Katerfelto Part 24

John Garnet, turning to remount his horse, was surprised to find the animal in the custody of Red Rube, who handed his rein, and held his stirrup with an officious alacrity foreign to his usual manner. The rider's first thought, no doubt, was for the well-being of his steed, after so exhausting a performance; yet did he not fail to remark a peculiar expression on the harbourer's countenance, and the nervous haste with which the old man helped him into the saddle, pocketing the gratuity forced on him unconsciously, and by instinct as it seemed, without a word of thanks.

It was not till he had satisfied himself of Katerfelto's soundness, and felt the horse break gaily into a trot, stepping free and true, that he gave a thought to Rube's flurried gestures and strange anxiety to start him on his homeward way, dismissing the subject from his mind without further comment, in the natural conclusion that the harbourer was drunk.

Then he abandoned himself to the exciting memories of the last few hours, exulting, as well he might, in the extraordinary speed and stamina of his favourite.

Meantime Parson Gale, seeking in vain for his hunting-knife, with a moody brow and many curses on his own carelessness in losing this favourite weapon, returned to his trusty Ca.s.sock, with the intention, no doubt, of following his rival, and calling on his brother-sportsmen to seize him in the name of the king. He was no mean judge of such matters, and in their late trial of strength found John Garnet fully his match.

Unarmed, therefore, he determined not to encounter his enemy hand to hand, regretting his own folly in yielding to pa.s.sion and endeavouring to slay him at disadvantage, thus warning him of danger, and setting him on his guard. How much better, thought the Parson, to track him as old Tancred tracked a deer, never slackening in effort, never off the scent, never turning aside for any consideration, till he had run him ruthlessly down, delivered him into the hands of justice, and seen the last of him on Tyburn Hill.

It seemed to Abner Gale that his brother's blood cried out from the very stones, not to be silenced nor appeased till his adversary stood in the hangman's cart, with the nightcap over his face, and the fatal nosegay in his hand.

The poor black horse, however, instigated by no such thirst for vengeance, and desiring only the warmth and rest of its distant stable, was felt to be in a sorry plight so soon as it was burdened once more with the weight it had carried so gallantly through the day. Sore, stiff, and weary, it was hopeless to expect from it anything more than the very slowest trot. It bore besides, on crest and shoulder, marks of the grey stallion's unprovoked a.s.sault; nor were these calculated to soothe the vindictive feelings of its master. Many a bitter curse he ground between his teeth, reflecting that, for the present, he must abandon all hope of following up his enemy, and, for his angry mood forbade him to join in the talk of his excited brother-sportsmen, plod his homeward way as best he might alone.

How different were his feelings from those of the half-dozen friends and neighbours, who had not half such good cause to be satisfied with their own performances in the chase. These laughed and jested merrily, in frank, hearty good-humour, praising the run, the country, each other's riding, and by implication their own, the huntsman, the harbourer, the stag, the horses, and the hounds. One or two trudged a-foot up and down the steep inclines beside their weary steeds, all did their best to ease and indulge the staunch animals that had carried them so well; and each, while claiming for the rider a large share of credit due to the horse, betrayed in his bearing the self-satisfaction of a man who has performed a good action, rather than the sullen preoccupied air of one, like Abner Gale, who meditates a crime!

Though in the West of England, as in Ireland, distances from point to point seem held of less account than in other parts of the kingdom, those are a dozen or so of very long miles, that stretch from Waters-meet to Porlock, after a good run with stag hounds, on a horse that has been galloping all day. We should indeed be surprised could we calculate the extent of country over which the powerful stride of a hunter sweeps in such a chase as I have endeavoured to describe; and should marvel yet more, were it possible to ascertain the exact distance traversed by a hound. The endurance of either animal seems truly wonderful when put to the test; but the real horseman is ever considerate to his "gallant and honourable friend," holding stoutly by the maxim--

"Up hill spare me, Down hill bear me, On the level never fear me;"

and believing this triplet of doggrel to contain the first principles of his art.

John Garnet, therefore, although he had long since discovered Katerfelto to be one of those rare horses that can begin again at the end of the day, did by no means suffer him to go his own pace home, restraining his generous impulses and riding him steadily along at very moderate speed.

I do not affirm, however, that his thoughts were entirely monopolised by this partner of his labours and his triumphs, or that he did not glance anxiously about him, from time to time, in search of the well-known figure on the white pony, that occupied the first place in his fancy, and indeed the inmost citadel of his heart.

He was beginning to find those hours very wearisome which were spent apart from Nelly; and after its excitement had subsided, even so gallant a chase as that which he had lately witnessed, was felt to be no equivalent for absence from her side.

There are moments when reflection seems to be forced on the most thoughtless of men; when the dream vanishes the illusion is dispelled, and they catch a glimpse of life as it is, not as they wish it to be.

John Garnet, riding softly through the heather, reviewed the events of the last few weeks by the light of common-sense, and wondered how this wild expedition of his, and wilder infatuation, was to end? That liberty and life were endangered by his offences against the law he had long been a.s.sured; but it was only to-day, and by the merest accident, he had discovered that here, in the vicinity of his hiding-place, lurked an enemy who thirsted for his blood. There was no mistaking the expression of the Parson's face; and had he not caught and held the uplifted wrist in a grasp more powerful than its own, he felt that his life-blood would have mingled in the eddies of Waters-meet with that of the dying deer.

Now, when the excitement of the strife was past, he shuddered to think of the hideous peril he had gone through, appreciating at the same time the vindictive hatred of such an enemy, whose brother he had slain in a midnight brawl, whose sweetheart he suspected he had won from him on the sands of Porlock Bay. In his place, thought John Garnet, he would have been as savage, no doubt; but, come what might--banishment, imprisonment, hanging, or a stand-up encounter man to man--nothing should ever force him to give up Nelly Carew!

His nerves must surely have been shaken by the severe exertions and strange experiences of the day; for a horse's head appearing suddenly at his knee, while its footfall was unheard amongst the heather, caused him to start violently, and lay his hand on the pistol in his holster.

Red Rube grinned in his face while he brought the broken-kneed pony alongside of Katerfelto. "Zeems as though a man couldn't forget the tricks of his trade, Captain," said the harbourer, with a cunning leer.

"Here have I been slotting o'_you_ better nor two mile on end, as though you'd been a right stag with three on the top--that's my calling. There are _you_, out with the barkers, finger on trigger, stand and deliver!--that's yours."

In vain John Garnet denied and expostulated, protesting, indeed, that he was wholly ignorant of the other's meaning, and did but make an involuntary gesture towards his weapon from an instinct of self-defence.

Rube was not so to be put off, and continued his remonstrances in a tone of confidential sympathy, with his hand on the grey horse's mane.

"There's a time for a deer to move, and a time for a deer to couch,"

said the harbourer, using the familiar metaphors of his calling. "A time for 'un to stand at bay, and a time for 'un to break the bay. When a deer vinds itself hard pressed, and never a stick of covert for miles, the sensible creetur 'takes soil,'--do 'ee hearken to me, Captain, it takes soil, I say, and vinds its safety many a time in the salt sea.

'Tis not so fur from Porlock to Ilfracombe, but that theer good grey horse could cover the distance in half a day."

He sidled farther off as he spoke, and seemed lost in contemplation of Katerfelto's points and symmetry, as he trotted by his side.

"What should I do at Ilfracombe when I got there?" asked John Garnet; adding, impatiently, "Man alive! speak no longer in parables. If you've anything to say, out with it, and tell me what you mean!"

Rube looked behind, before, and on each side; then he drew nearer and whispered--

"There be a price on thic' head o' yourn', Captain, a longish price, too. May-be more than it be worth."

"I know it," answered John Garnet; "I've seen the bills. It's an easy way to get a hundred guineas, Rube. Why don't you earn the money yourself?"

The old man looked hurt. "It's not honest wood-craft," said he. "Every beast of chase has a right to be hunted in season, and with a fair start. The hounds are on your track, Captain, I give you fair warning; but that's not all. There's one, a coa.r.s.e black dog (Rube chuckled while he enunciated this conceit), as will never be off the line so long as the game is a-foot, nor leave the slot till he has the deer by the throat. Do you think you deceived _me_ awhile ago, when you two stood in a dead-lock together on yonder slab of stone? Double on him, Captain, I do tell 'ee, double on him, that's what _you've_ got to do. I've friends at Ilfracombe, free-traders they call 'em down there, they'd take any young man aboard as was well known to Red Rube. This here wind will serve, and I do know 'twill stay in the North for days together now, as though 'twere nailed there. G.o.d speed ye, young man. You mind what I tell 'ee. Keep your own counsel, and take a good hold of your horse's head!"

Then he shook the pony's bridle, turned briskly down a coombe, and disappeared.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A HARD BARGAIN.

Plodding wearily on, in the shuffling, dogged, continuous jog-trot that takes a tired hunter home, Ca.s.sock presently p.r.i.c.ked his ears, and increased the pace of his own accord, while his rider's heart beat fast, for rising an acclivity not a bow-shot in front, fluttered the blue riding-habit that enclosed her pretty shape, nodded the feather in the saucy little hat, that could be worn so jauntily by none but Nelly Carew. Cowslip had failed to make up its lost ground in time for her to see the end of the run, and Nelly was riding soberly home, full of pleasant thoughts and fancies that grouped themselves round a figure on a grey horse, skimming the brown moorland, far ahead of all compet.i.tors, and when last seen, alone with the hounds!

"Good even, Mistress Nelly," said the Parson, ranging alongside, with an awkward bow. "Nothing amiss, I hope, with Cowslip, nor its rider. 'Tis not often the pair of you give in before the deer, but you must confess that for this once Abner Gale and the old black nag had the better of pretty Mistress Carew." His voice, hoa.r.s.e and thick with conflicting feelings, startled her from her day-dream. Nelly's colour rose, and the consciousness that he observed it caused her to blush deeper in mingled vexation and shame.

"I made a fatal mistake at starting," said she, with a nervous little laugh and a full stop.

"A great many women do that!" grunted the Parson.

"And all my calculations were wrong," continued Nelly, without noticing the interruption. "If the deer had pa.s.sed under Dunkerry Beacon, like the big black stag last year, and taken soil in the Barle, down by Landacre Bridge, for instance, or at Withy-pool, where would you all have been then? Your turn to-day, Master Gale, mine to-morrow. That's the rule of stag-hunting, and it seems the same for most things in life."

She spoke with a flurried manner and an affectation of gaiety he did not fail to detect. The Parson's restless eye and moody brow frightened her, and glancing round on the solitude of the moor, she wished herself back with grandfather, safe at home.

"I would it were the same thing in life," he answered sullenly. "A bold, straightforward man who meant fair, and feared nothing, might have a chance of holding his own, then, and wouldn't see his place taken by the first new-comer with thicker lace on his coat and more bra.s.s on his forehead. Your park-fed deer is well enough, Mistress Nelly, for them that don't know better, but who in their senses would compare it with a real wild Exmoor stag?"

"I don't understand you!" said the girl, looking in vain for a companion, and wondering what had become of all the defeated riders who must be plodding steadily home.

"Then I'll speak out!" replied the Parson, "and remember, what Abner Gale says that he sticks to, for good and for evil, mind. _For good and for evil!_ I'm a plain man, Mistress Carew."

"Not so very plain, for your age, you know!" Nelly could not resist saying, though dreadfully frightened. But he continued without noticing the interruption--

"A plain man, and may-be I han't learned any of the monkey tricks your town-bred gentlemen bring here into the West, thinking to carry all before them, with a hoist of the eyebrows, a fool's grin, and a dancing-master's bow. But at least I'm honest, if I'm nothing more, not afraid to show my face by light of day, nor to speak my mind in any company, from my Lord Bellinger down to d.i.c.k Boss the sheriff's officer, who has got a job in hand that will take him all his time, judging by what I saw to-day."

"d.i.c.k Boss! Sheriff's officer!" repeated Nelly, pale and aghast, for already she knew too well John Garnet's danger. "What have I to do with these matters? Why do you say such things to me?"

Though the Parson's voice softened while he answered, in Nelly's ear it sounded harsher than before.

"Why, Mistress Nelly?" he repeated. "I marvel that you can ask me so simple a question. Why do I watch every look of your blue eyes, every word from your sweet lips? Why do I feel a different man in your presence, and hover about you like that moor-buzzard up there hovers over the bare brow of the mountain, wheeling, poising, watching, waiting patiently till he may stoop and carry off his prize?"

"Waiting to tear it in pieces, you mean!" replied Nelly, angrily.

"You're talking nonsense, Master Gale. If buzzard you be, I at least am not going to become your prey."

The sun was sinking to the brown level of the moor at their backs. The long shadows thrown before them, as they rode softly side by side, might have belonged to a pair of plighted lovers, so woven together were they, and intermingled on the broad expanse of heather, deepening to a browner russet and a redder gold with every moment of departing day.

Yet in one bosom rankled wild, unsatisfied longings, jealousy, suspicion, rage of wounded pride; in the other, contempt, loathing, and a pa.s.sionate hatred, the more embittered that it was dashed with fear.