Dead Man's Land Part 19

The man shook his head again and took out his scissors as if about to begin clipping once more, but bethought himself and put them back.

Dan chuckled as if he thought it was very good fun, and Buck bent down and whispered something in the little fellow's ear.

"Here, what's that?" cried Mark sharply.

"He means he's going to stop to dinner, sir."

It was said quite in a whisper, but the man proved that he was keen enough of ear.

"That's so," he said mournfully, as if the dinner would be a punishment.

"What, you mean to stay to dinner?"

The man nodded, paused for a few moments, and then with a heavy sigh--

"Yes."

"Well, you are a cuc.u.mber," said Mark, "upon my word!"

"Not in season," said the man.

"Cheek!" said Dean laughing.

The man looked up sharply.

"Bacon," he said sadly; and there was an explosion of laughter.

"Bob isn't here; but you are a queer fellow," said Mark.

"Yes," said the man; and he looked from one to the other, and sighed again.

"Here, I say," continued Mark, "where does it hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" replied the man.

"Yes. Inside? Are you in pain?"

The man shook his head.

"My way," he said, and he sighed again.

"Well, don't talk like that."

"Eh? No," said the man; and he reached out his hand to pa.s.s it over the muzzle of one of the ponies that had raised its head from where it had been cropping the green shoots of a dwarf shrub.

"The ponies seem to be very good friends with you."

"Yes, sir," said Buck; "they follow him like dogs."

"Know me," said the man sadly.

"Well, you needn't cry about it," said Dean.

"Oh, that's it," cried Mark; "I see. Poor chap! He came to see them again, to say good-bye."

The man shook his head.

"No," he said; "going with them."

"Oh, are you?" cried Mark. "I am glad you told me. But somebody else will have a word or two about that."

"Who?" said the man.

"Why, my father."

"But he bought the ponies," said the man.

"Yes," cried Mark, "but he didn't buy you."

"No," said the man. "Same thing. I belong to them."

"I say, Dozey," cried Mark, "you are wide awake enough now: did you ever hear anything like this before."

"Never," was the prompt reply.

"Ponies no good without me," said the man.

"Why?" cried the boys, in a breath.

"Won't stop with you. Run back to the town to look for me," he said, speaking with some animation now.

"Nonsense!" cried Mark. "We will picket them."

The man laughed, and then as Mark tried to frown him down with a very severe look, he put his hand in his pocket, took out his scissors again, and put them back after a snip, and then looked round at his four companions in turn.

"See here," he said, thrusting two of his fingers into his mouth as he turned sharply away and started off, going swiftly over the ground and leaping almost like an antelope over every bush that came in his way, while he gave vent to a shrill whistle, which he modulated from time to time.

At the first note the ponies raised their heads from where they were cropping the sedge, and at the second, one of the st.u.r.dy little fellows uttered a shrill neigh, while at the third note, which turned into a trill, the little animals dashed off at a canter, scattering the sandy earth behind them as they tore after the utterer of the cheery sounds.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MAKING A FORELOPER.

Dean's jaw fell, and he stood staring after the strange visitor with so vacant an expression of countenance that in spite of his annoyance Mark burst into a hearty laugh.

"What are you grinning at?" cried Dean angrily.