Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 12

No, this man might rob, but he would not kill us. He was in trouble like ourselves. So we told him we were running away from school.

He looked at us again, and I saw he believed us. "Angleese, I not speak much. I am Espanol. I am a convict. Do not fear. I have never kill one. No--no--no."

He sat down beside the candle and took out a knife and a turnip.

Something told me the poor fellow was famis.h.i.+ng. I jumped up and went to my bag, and placed bread and bacon in his hand. He ate ravenously and thanked me. Perhaps it was only fancy, but I thought I saw tears in his eyes.

While he ate, much to our astonishment, a little black mouse ran down his sleeve, and sat on the back of his left hand, which he took care to keep still. The creature ate hungrily of the crumbs he gave it, and when finished, he held out his little finger, around which the mouse entwined both its little arms, while it licked it as lovingly as a dog would have done. Then, at a sign from the convict, it once more retreated.

I am sure, even now, that it was his love for the gentle wee mouse that made Jill and I take to this man, and believe what he told us. Briefly, his story was this:

"Many years ago, one, two, ten perhaps, I am cast away on this sh.o.r.e.

My mate and me alone live. We trabel much. We seek for friend. No find. Then we come to big town, Cardeef, you call it. Here we find goot friend. We go seek for s.h.i.+p then to take us to Cadeeth. It is night. All my money in my belt. Bad men come out, kill my mate. I hear voices, footsteps. I run up to my mate. I pull out the ugly knife. I am caught there. I am taken to preeson, tried before justice--justice, ha! ha! I not kill my poor mate. All same. No one speak my language well. I not can speak Angleese den. I get angry, wild, mad. They put me away to preeson. Twenty year they say. But now I am free. They never get me more. I die first."

"And the mouse?" said Jill.

"That is my preeson mate. I think 'tis the speerit of Roderigo, my friend, in dat little mouse. The warder want to kill him. Den I say, I escape or die. You may believe me. 'Tis all true. What for I tell little chaps like you lie. I have good friend at home. I will tell all dere. The Espanol Government will make de Angleese rest.i.tute. But dey cannot bring back Roderigo."

"Did you love Roderigo very much?"

"He was best of friend. All same as brother. Yes, I love him. And you? What you do?"

Then, boy-like, we told this man all our terrible tale. We expected him to be visibly affected; perhaps, convict though he was, to shrink from us.

He certainly was visibly affected, but in a way we little expected. He laughed outright.

"For ten long year," he said, "I never laugh before."

The little mouse came down his sleeve again and sat on his wrist to wash his face and blink at the candle. The convict pointed to it with a forefinger and laughed again.

"Even Roderigo," he cried, "is much amoose. Ha, ha, ha! Ah, boys," he added, almost immediately getting serious; "you have a home. Go back to dat home. Go back, I say, go back. I speak as an all unworthy friend."

"But they will hang us for piracy."

"Do not make me laugh more. It does not become rags and grief to laugh.

See, I am widout money, and naked, still I laugh. Poor boys, go back!"

I considered for a moment, then abruptly changed the subject.

"How do you expect to get away? We saw soldiers to-day on the moor.

They were talking about you, and said you could not escape."

His face grew darker and sadder.

Then, with all a boy's generous abandon, I pulled out my purse and showed him my money. Even little Roderigo--Jill afterwards declared-- paused in the act of was.h.i.+ng his ears and gazed at the glittering coins.

"This is all we have," I said.

"You unwise boy! I might take all. I will not refuse de offer of kindness. See, I take two. No more. This has save my life."

He dipped a finger and thumb into the coins in my palm and took two sovereigns, and I put away the rest. He sat a long time silent after this. Then he got up, and going out, soon returned with an armful of ferns, which he placed in a corner.

"I sleep now," he said. "To-morrow day we talk."

Strange that now we felt no fear of this strange being. We slept soundly and well, and daylight was streaming into the cave when we were aroused. The convict had lightly touched me on the shoulder.

He was smiling, and looked now neither so haggard nor so terrible as on the evening before.

"No warm breakfus," he said, smiling. "Soldiers have pa.s.s 'long de highway. Think you they seek for de convict to put in preeson, or de pirate boys to hang? Eh?"

We both trembled. But the keen air of the hill gave us an appet.i.te and we did not miss the tea.

"Now we talk," said the convict. "I have been think."

"And," I said, firmly, "I have also been thinking. It may not be so bad as we thought. They may not want to hang us. But they would disgrace and laugh at us, and I am a soldier's son. I will not go back. Would you, Jill?"

"a.s.suredly not."

"Den what else you do?"

"Go to sea before the mast." The convict laughed again before he replied--"Boys, I speak as your friend. Do not be fools. Go to sea?

What? Who take you? Though I have been long in preeson, I know all de law. At sea what can you do? No dings. No capitan will have runaways.

Suppose you do hide, what you calls stowaway. Den they make you for to work--"

"We don't mind that."

"Stop till I speak. Dey bring you back to de same port. Ha, ha!"

It had never struck us before in this light. Not that we intended to stow away, but little goslings that we were, we fancied we had only to make our way to a seaport and choose a s.h.i.+p, and that any captain would be delighted to have us without asking any questions.

This convict was speaking sense, but he had already cast down our idols and banished every morsel of sentiment from our situation.

I could have cried with vexation.

I almost hated the poor fellow now. Why could he not have left us to go on a little longer in the flowery lane of our romance? Presently he spoke again.

"You have to me been a friend. Now to you I will be a friend. I will go to your aunt."

"No, no, no."

"Stop, my friend. I will tell her what you do wish me to speak. No dings more. Shall I go?"

"Tell her," I said, "that we are well and happy. No, tell her we are wretched. No, no. Jill, what shall we tell her?"

"Well," said Jill, with his old smile, "you can't say we're jolly. Just say we won't come back. That we want to get a s.h.i.+p to go to mother."

"_No_, Jill, not like that, a s.h.i.+p to go to sea. They will not take us without aunt's leave--then, we must get it."

"Ah!" cried the convict, "dat is sensibeel now. You speak like one young man. I go to-night. You stay in de cave. Do not be seen. I will quickly return."