First in the Field Part 57

"I'll bring a whip round to some on yer directly. Hold yer row!"

One dog barked as if protesting.

"Quiet, will yer!" cried the man. "Think n.o.body wants to sleep?"

Then silence, an uneasy rattle of a chain, the banging of a door, and Nic wiped the perspiration from his brow.

The case seemed hopeless, but he would not give up. Twice over he tried to get round to the back of the house, but the dogs were on the alert; and the last time, just as he drew rein closer than he had been before, the window was opened, two flashes of light cut the darkness, and there came the double report of a gun, making Sorrel bound and nearly unseat his rider.

"See any one, sir?" cried the man, hurrying out.

"No; but I'm sure there's some one about. Get your gun. I'll be down directly, and we'll keep watch."

The window closed, and Nic heard the man growl at the dogs:

"You've done it now. Keep watch, eh? But I'll pay some on yer to-morrow."

The dogs burst out barking again, for Nic was guiding his horse away in despair, feeling that he could not accomplish his task; then he waited till he was a few hundred yards distant, and cantered on, feeling that in all probability some of the dogs would be loosened and come after him.

As he rode he listened, and there was the yelping as of a pack, making him urge Sorrel into a gallop; but the sounds died out, and at the end of a mile he drew rein, for there was no suggestion of pursuit.

Nic walked his horse beneath one of the great trees, and sat there like a statue, thinking, and trying hard to come to some determination. To get at the building where Leather was imprisoned was not the easy task he had thought. In fact, he felt now, that with all those dogs about, that he had not noticed the previous afternoon, when they were probably away with the shepherds, it was impossible.

"What shall I do?" he said to himself again; and he cudgelled his brain in the hope of some idea coming, but all in vain.

And so a good hour pa.s.sed, when, sick and in despair, he determined to make one more essay, for he argued, with a bitter smile, "The dogs may be asleep." At any rate he would try, and if he failed he would ride up in the morning, and they should not flog the poor fellow while he was there.

"Yes," he said, "the dogs may be asleep; but suppose Mr Dillon or his men are keeping watch."

He had put his horse in motion, and was riding out of the black shadow, but drew rein sharply, and Sorrel stopped short, for away in the distance came the loud yelping and baying of dogs in pursuit of something, just as he had heard them in the Kentish woods at home when laid on the scent of a fox, but not with the weird, strange sound heard now on the night air.

"What does it mean?" thought Nic, as his heart seemed to stand still and then began to beat with heavy throbs; for the idea came that Leather had broken out--was escaping--was coming in his direction; and at that moment there was a pause--a silence which jarred the boy's nerves.

Had they got him?

No; for the dogs were in full pursuit once more, probably on the fugitive's scent, and faintly heard there were shouts as of some one urging the pack on.

How long what followed took Nic never knew, for he was listening, intensely excited, and agitated as to whether he should go or stay, when the thought came that perhaps the dogs were on his scent; but he cast that idea away as foolish, for he had been mounted nearly all the time.

Then all at once, as the hounds were evidently coming nearer and the shouts plainer, Nic felt that he must sit out the affair and hear what had happened; when Sorrel drew a deep breath, there was a heavy breathing, and a man came on at a steady trot straight for the shadow in which Nic sat, so that the next moment he was upon him.

"Back, for your life!" came hoa.r.s.ely, as the man raised his arm.

"Leather!"

"You here!" panted the convict. "But quick--they're after us. Canter right away."

As he spoke he took a firm grip of the nag's mane, and as it sprang off ran easily by its side, the docile beast making straight for home.

For some minutes they went on like this, with the sounds growing fainter; and then the convict broke the silence.

"Master Nic," he whispered, "I am innocent, my lad. I did not use the axe. That ruffian struck me with the fork handle till my manhood revolted against it, and I knocked him down with my fist, boy--my fist."

"Yes, I know: Sam told me," said Nic hoa.r.s.ely. "I came to try and get you away."

"G.o.d bless you, my lad! I couldn't bear to stay there and be disgraced more than I have. It was too hard."

"How did you escape?"

"Broke the handcuffs apart, climbed to the rafters, pulled open the bark thatching and let myself down; but the dogs gave the alarm."

"Well, they shan't have you now," cried Nic, pulling up. "Jump on and ride home. I'll run beside you. They can't take you away again."

The convict laughed bitterly.

"You foolish boy," he said gently, "the law is on their side. No.

Good-bye, lad. Don't forget me. You know the truth, but you must not be mixed up with my escape. You have done nothing yet. Off with you-- home!"

"But you, Leather, what are you going to do?" said Nic huskily.

"Escape if I can, and I think I shall."

"But where--what to do? Wait till father comes home?"

"No. What can he do? Dillon will send me to the chain gang as a dangerous man; and I am now, boy--I am, for it shall only be my dead body they shall take."

"Leather!"

"No, Nic. Frank Mayne, an honest man. Home with you, boy!"

"But you?"

"I? There's room enough yonder. To begin a new life of freedom--a savage among the blacks."

There was a smart blow of the open hand delivered on the horse's neck, and the startled beast sprang forward into a wild gallop, which the boy could not for the moment check. When he did, and looked round, there was the darkness of the night, the cry of some wild bird; the baying of the dogs had ceased, and he was quite alone.

"He can't be far," thought the boy, and he whistled softly again and again, but there was no reply. He tried to pierce the darkness, but it was very black now, and he noticed that the stars had been blotted out, and directly after there came _pat_; _pat_, _pat_--the sound of great drops of rain, the advance-guard of a storm.

It would have been useless to try and follow the convict, and at last Nic let his impatient horse move on at a walk, then it cantered, and then galloped straight for the Bluff, as if trying to escape from the pelting rain, while it quivered at every flash and bounded on as the lightning was followed by a deafening roar.

"There'll be no trail to follow," cried Nic exultantly; "it will all be washed away, and he'll shelter himself under some tree. But hurrah! I shall see him again. Let old Dillon flog the whipping-post, or, if he's disappointed, let him have old Brookes."

For a peculiar feeling of exultation had come upon the boy, and the storm, instead of being startling, seemed grand, till he rode into the enclosure, seeing that lights were in three of the windows, and a trio of voices cried:

"Nic, is that you?"

"Yes, all right," he shouted. "So hungry. In as soon as I've seen to my horse."