The Wolf Patrol Part 37

The scouts did not see him, but he saw the scouts. For a few moments he watched the race, his mouth gaping wide in true rustic wonder; then he turned, and hastily retraced his steps to the farm. He burst into the kitchen, where the farmer and his wife were seated at a round table in front of the wide hearth, taking their tea.

'Maister! maister!' cried the shepherd, 'theer's two bwoys a-runnin'

about i' the copse wi' ne'er a st.i.tch on 'em.'

'What's that ye say, Diggory?' cried the farmer's wife.

'Ne'er a st.i.tch on 'em, missis, a-runnin' about there like two pixies, they be. A' niver seed such a sight afore in a Christian land. 'Tis like haythens, on'y they be white uns 'stead o' black uns.'

'What do ye make of it, Tom?' said the farmer's wife to her husband.

'Maybe 'tis nought but his simple-minded talk,' replied the farmer, taking a huge bite out of a slice of bread-and-b.u.t.ter.

'No, maister,' cried the shepherd. ''Tis Gospel true, ivery word.

Ne'er a st.i.tch on 'em.' And he waved his left hand like an orator.

Suddenly an angry flush sprang to the farmer's face, and he stood up.

'Then, 'tis gipsies!' he cried.

'I dunno,' said the shepherd. 'Brown they hain't, but white as milk.'

'I'll mark their white for 'em,' cried the farmer; and stepping quickly to the wall, he seized a long cart-whip which hung there, and strode from the house.

For years there had been a bitter feud between the sheep-farmer and a large family of gipsies of the name of King. The Kings went about the country in several small bands, and for generations the copse had been a favourite halting-place. But one spring the farmer lost some lambs, and was persuaded that the gipsies had been at the bottom of his loss.

So he forbade them the use of the copse, and drove them out whenever he found they had dared to pitch their camp there. He was a hasty-tempered man, utterly fearless and quite unforgiving, so that a regular war had sprung up between himself and the Kings. Now he was persuaded that his enemies had sought the shelter of his copse, and he was off at once to attack them.

He arrived on the scene to find the scouts turning their clothes.

Instead of heathens, they now looked like Red Indians; for they had remembered the dry blankets in the haversacks, had taken them out, and were wrapped in them like a pair of braves.

They saw nothing of the angry farmer till he burst upon them through a thicket of brambles within a dozen yards of the fire, so busy were they with turning their steaming clothes.

The farmer's wrath rose higher at sight of the steam and smoke. A fire was the very thing he had defied the gipsies again and again to make on his land. He cracked his whip with a vicious snap, and rushed upon the scouts.

'I'll larn ye to make a fire on my land arter the many times I've a-warned ye,' he bellowed.

The attack and the outcry were both so sudden that the scouts were taken by surprise. d.i.c.k was on the side of the rush. He saw that an onslaught was meant, though he knew not why, and grabbed at his staff.

He forgot to keep hold of the blanket, and it slid to the ground, and left him defenceless. Down came the hissing thong, and wrapped itself right round him, a regular rib-binder.

A yell of pain burst from the Wolf's lips; then he shut his teeth tight. The surprise had forced that first cry from him, and he did not intend to utter another. But the whip was already hissing through the air, and flight was the only thing possible; he made a spring clean across the heap of drying clothes, and fled.

'Tom, Tom,' panted a shrill voice behind, 'why will ye be so franzy?

These be no gipsy lads. Look at their clothes a-dryin'!'

The farmer's wife, well knowing her husband's impetuous temper, had followed up, and at sight of her d.i.c.k tucked himself away behind a wide-stemmed beech.

The farmer looked down at the heap of steaming clothes, and was struck with the force of his wife's remark.

'Why, 'tis a sort o' uniform,' he muttered.

'O' course it's a uniform,' cried Chippy, who had stood his ground wrapped in his blanket and flouris.h.i.+ng the tomahawk. 'It's the uniform o' Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts, an' what ye want to come 'ere for an'

fetch my mate one acrost the ribs I'm blest if I know.'

'Bring my blanket here, Chippy,' called out d.i.c.k from his refuge. 'I dropped it in my hurry.'

'Why, ye see, I thought 'twor gipsy tramps startin' a fire in this copse, an' I've forbid it,' said the farmer slowly, scratching his head, and gradually getting hold of the idea that he had made a full-sized mistake.

'Tramps!' snorted Chippy in scorn, taking d.i.c.k's blanket, and marching across to his friend. 'D'ye reckon we look like tramps?' He simply bellowed the question, for he was immensely proud of his new scout's uniform, and quite forgot that at present he was arrayed only in a blanket.

'They've been in the wet, and they're dryin' their clothes,' went on the farmer's wife. 'Come home, Tom, an' leave 'em be; they'll do no harm.'

The farmer was already regretting his hasty blow, but, being a man who could never be made to express the opinion that he was in the wrong, he said nothing, merely turned away, and beat a retreat.

'Here's your blanket, d.i.c.k,' said the Raven. 'I felt ready, I can tell ye, to chuck the chopper at that confounded old hayseed of a farmer.'

'He did fetch me one for luck,' said d.i.c.k, rubbing the weal which now began to show up on his body. 'It seems we're trespa.s.sing.'

'Not to do any harm,' growled the Raven. 'But he's off now; the wife's fetchin' him away. She seems a good sort.'

The two scouts went back to their fire, and again turned the clothes, which were drying fast. Before long they were able to dress again, and march on their way.

CHAPTER XL

THE SCOUTS' SECOND CAMP

They had gone half a mile from the copse, when their attention was drawn to a bramble-brake which seemed to be alive. It shook, it twisted, it rocked to and fro. They went up to the spot, and found a fat ewe on her back in the heart of it. She was struggling furiously but quite hopelessly; the brambles were wrapped about her fleecy body like cords of steel, and would hold her there till she died of exhaustion.

'I suppose she belongs to the chap who waled me,' said d.i.c.k. 'Well, I can take my knot out all right this time, Chippy. I'll chuck the cut of the whip and the sheep in as a good turn.'

'He don't deserve it,' cried Chippy; 'but we've got the poor beast to think of, an' that's a scout's job.'

The boys set to work at once, and it took them a good half-hour with knife and axe to free the terrified creature. At last they had it out of the brake, and placed it on an open patch of gra.s.sy land, and left it to recover.

Within a mile again they were surprised to enter a dry, dusty land once more. They had pa.s.sed the region of the thunder-burst. It had been a local shower, not general, and the point where it had ended was shown in quite a sharp line drawn across the way they were following.

'All the better for us,' said Chippy. 'We can camp to-night, instead o' havin' to look for a barn or hay-loft, or suthin'.'

In the distance a yellow van was jogging over the moor. It was moving along a road which crossed their track at right angles.

'That's a baker's van,' said d.i.c.k. 'Let's tun on and catch it. If we can get a loaf, we shall be set up, and can break our march where we like.'

'Righto,' said the Raven; 'the flour's all gone.' And the scouts ran forward. They caught the van at the crossroads, and bought a threepenny loaf. d.i.c.k entered the purchase in his notebook; they had now spent two s.h.i.+llings and a penny three-farthings, and had plenty of food in hand for their fourth day. From this point on they surveyed the country with a single idea--the finding of a good spot for a camp.

They had now reached the border of the moor, and the land was studded by woods, coppices, and coverts. Pheasants flew across their path, and rabbits ambled about in every direction; for evening was coming on, and the bunnies were swarming from their burrows.

'Sportin' country, this,' observed Chippy; and d.i.c.k agreed.