"I
have found out a gift for
my fair -
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed;
But let me the plunder forbear,
She would say 'twas a barbarous deed."
—ROWE.
"And
now, my lad, take them five
shilling,
And on my advice in future think;
So Billy pouched them all so willing,
And got that night disguised in drink."
MS. Ballad.
The next morning, at first
lesson, Tom was turned back
in his lines, and so had to
wait till the second round;
while Martin and Arthur said
theirs all right, and got out
of school at once. When Tom
got out and ran down to breakfast
at Harrowell's they were missing,
and Stumps informed him that
they had swallowed down their
breakfasts and gone off together
- where, he couldn't say. Tom
hurried over his own breakfast,
and went first to Martin's
study and then to his own;
but no signs of the missing
boys were to be found. He felt
half angry and jealous of Martin.
Where could they be gone?
He learnt second lesson with
East and the rest in no very
good temper, and then went
out into the quadrangle. About
ten minutes before school Martin
and Arthur arrived in the quadrangle
breathless; and catching sight
of him, Arthur rushed up, all
excitement, and with a bright
glow on his face.
"O Tom, look here!" cried
he, holding out three moor-hen's
eggs; "we've been down
the Barby road, to the pool
Martin told us of last night,
and just see what we've got."
Tom wouldn't be pleased, and
only looked out for something
to find fault with.
"Why, young un," said
he, "what have you been
after? You don't mean to say
you've been wading?"
The tone of reproach made
poor little Arthur shrink up
in a moment and look piteous;
and Tom with a shrug of his
shoulders turned his anger
on Martin.
"Well,
I didn't think, Madman, that
you'd have been
such a muff as to let him be
getting wet through at this
time of day. You might have
done the wading yourself."
"So I
did, of course; only he would
come in too,
to see the nest. We left six
eggs in. They'll be hatched
in a day or two."
"Hang the eggs!" said
Tom; "a fellow can't turn
his back for a moment but all
his work's undone. He'll be
laid up for a week for this
precious lark, I'll be bound."
"Indeed, Tom, now," pleaded
Arthur, "my feet ain't
wet, for Martin made me take
off my shoes and stockings
and trousers."
"But they are wet, and
dirty too; can't I see?" answered
Tom; "and you'll be called
up and floored when the master
sees what a state you're in.
You haven't looked at second
lesson, you know."
O Tom, you old humbug! you
to be upbraiding any one with
not learning their lessons!
If you hadn't been floored
yourself now at first lesson,
do you mean to say you wouldn't
have been with them? And you've
taken away all poor little
Arthur's joy and pride in his
first birds' eggs, and he goes
and puts them down in the study,
and takes down his books with
a sigh, thinking he has done
something horribly wrong, whereas
he has learnt on in advance
much more than will be done
at second lesson.
But the old
Madman hasn't, and gets called
up, and makes
some frightful shots, losing
about ten places, and all but
getting floored. This somewhat
appeases Tom's wrath, and by
the end of the lesson he has
regained his temper. And afterwards
in their study he begins to
get right again, as he watches
Arthur's intense joy at seeing
Martin blowing the eggs and
gluing them carefully on to
bits of cardboard, and notes
the anxious, loving looks which
the little fellow casts sidelong
at him. And then he thinks, "What
an ill-tempered beast I am!
Here's just what I was wishing
for last night come about,
and I'm spoiling it all," and
in another five minutes has
swallowed the last mouthful
of his bile, and is repaid
by seeing his little sensitive
plant expand again and sun
itself in his smiles.
After dinner the Madman is
busy with the preparations
for their expedition, fitting
new straps on to his climbing-irons,
filling large pill-boxes with
cotton-wool, and sharpening
East's small axe. They carry
all their munitions into calling-overs
and directly afterwards, having
dodged such prepostors as are
on the lookout for fags at
cricket, the four set off at
a smart trot down the Lawford
footpath, straight for Caldecott's
Spinney and the hawk's nest.
Martin leads the way in high
feather; it is quite a new
sensation to him, getting companions,
and he finds it very pleasant,
and means to show them all
manner of proofs of his science
and skill. Brown and East may
be better at cricket and football
and games, thinks he, but out
in the fields and woods see
if I can't teach them something.
He has taken the leadership
already, and strides away in
front with his climbing- irons
strapped under one arm, his
pecking-bag under the other,
and his pockets and hat full
of pill-boxes, cotton-wool,
and other etceteras. Each of
the others carries a pecking-bag,
and East his hatchet.
When they
had crossed three or four
fields without a check,
Arthur began to lag; and Tom
seeing this shouted to Martin
to pull up a bit. "We
ain't out hare-and-hounds.
What's the good of grinding
on at this rate?"
"There's the Spinney," said
Martin, pulling up on the brow
of a slope at the bottom of
which lay Lawford brook, and
pointing to the top of the
opposite slope; "the nest
is in one of those high fir-trees
at this end. And down by the
brook there I know of a sedge-bird's
nest. We'll go and look at
it coming back."
"Oh, come on, don't let
us stop," said Arthur,
who was getting excited at
the sight of the wood. So they
broke into a trot again, and
were soon across the brook,
up the slope, and into the
Spinney. Here they advanced
as noiselessly as possible,
lest keepers or other enemies
should be about, and stopped
at the foot of a tall fir,
at the top of which Martin
pointed out with pride the
kestrel's nest, the object
of their quest.
"Oh, where? which is
it?" asks Arthur, gaping
up in the air, and having the
most vague idea of what it
would be like.
"There, don't you see?" said
East, pointing to a lump of
mistletoe in the next tree,
which was a beech. He saw that
Martin and Tom were busy with
the climbing-irons, and couldn't
resist the temptation of hoaxing.
Arthur stared and wondered
more than ever.
"Well, how curious! It
doesn't look a bit like what
I expected," said he.
"Very odd birds, kestrels," said
East, looking waggishly at
his victim, who was still star-gazing.
"But I thought it was
in a fir-tree?" objected
Arthur.
"Ah,
don't you know? That's a
new sort of fir which
old Caldecott brought from
the Himalayas."
"Really!" said Arthur; "I'm
glad I know that. How unlike
our firs they are! They do
very well too here, don't they?
The Spinney's full of them."
"What's that humbug he's
telling you?" cried Tom,
looking up, having caught the
word Himalayas, and suspecting
what East was after.
"Only about this fir," said
Arthur, putting his hand on
the stem of the beech.
"Fir!" shouted Tom; "why,
you don't mean to say, young
un, you don't know a beech
when you see one?"
Poor little Arthur looked
terribly ashamed, and East
exploded in laughter which
made the wood ring.
"I've hardly ever seen
any trees," faltered Arthur.
"What a shame to hoax
him, Scud!" cried Martin.
- "Never mind, Arthur;
you shall know more about trees
than he does in a week or two."
"And isn't that the kestrel's
nest, then?" asked Arthur. "That!
Why, that's a piece of mistletoe.
There's the nest, that lump
of sticks up this fir."
"Don't believe him, Arthur," struck
in the incorrigible East; "I
just saw an old magpie go out
of it."
Martin did not deign to reply
to this sally, except by a
grunt, as he buckled the last
buckle of his climbing-irons,
and Arthur looked reproachfully
at East without speaking.
But now came
the tug of war. It was a
very difficult tree
to climb until the branches
were reached, the first of
which was some fourteen feet
up, for the trunk was too large
at the bottom to be swarmed;
in fact, neither of the boys
could reach more than half
round it with their arms. Martin
and Tom, both of whom had irons
on, tried it without success
at first; the fir bark broke
away where they stuck the irons
in as soon as they leant any
weight on their feet, and the
grip of their arms wasn't enough
to keep them up; so, after
getting up three or four feet,
down they came slithering to
the ground, barking their arms
and faces. They were furious,
and East sat by laughing and
shouting at each failure, "Two
to one on the old magpie!"
"We must try a pyramid," said
Tom at last. "Now, Scud,
you lazy rascal, stick yourself
against the tree!"
"I dare say! and have
you standing on my shoulders
with the irons on. What do
you think my skin's made of?" However,
up he got, and leant against
the tree, putting his head
down and clasping it with his
arms as far as he could.
"Now then, Madman," said
Tom, "you next."
"No, I'm lighter than
you; you go next." So
Tom got on East's shoulders,
and grasped the tree above,
and then Martin scrambled up
on to Tom's shoulders, amidst
the totterings and groanings
of the pyramid, and, with a
spring which sent his supporters
howling to the ground, clasped
the stem some ten feet up,
and remained clinging. For
a moment or two they thought
he couldn't get up; but then,
holding on with arms and teeth,
he worked first one iron then
the other firmly into the bark,
got another grip with his arms,
and in another minute had hold
of the lowest branch.
"All up with the old
magpie now," said East;
and after a minute's rest,
up went Martin, hand over hand,
watched by Arthur with fearful
eagerness.
"Isn't it very dangerous?" said
he.
"Not a bit," answered
Tom; "you can't hurt if
you only get good hand-hold.
Try every branch with a good
pull before you trust it, and
then up you go."
Martin was now amongst the
small branches close to the
nest, and away dashed the old
bird, and soared up above the
trees, watching the intruder.
"All right - four eggs!" shouted
he.
"Take 'em all!" shouted
East; "that'll be one
a-piece."
"No,
no; leave one, and then she
won t care, said Tom.
We boys had an idea that birds
couldn't count, and were quite
content as long as you left
one egg. I hope it is so.
Martin carefully put one egg
into each of his boxes and
the third into his mouth, the
only other place of safety,
and came down like a lamplighter.
All went well till he was within
ten feet of the ground, when,
as the trunk enlarged, his
hold got less and less firm,
and at last down he came with
a run, tumbling on to his back
on the turf, spluttering and
spitting out the remains of
the great egg, which had broken
by the jar of his fall.
"Ugh, ugh! something
to drink - ugh! it was addled," spluttered
he, while the wood rang again
with the merry laughter of
East and Tom.
Then they examined the prizes,
gathered up their things, and
went off to the brook, where
Martin swallowed huge draughts
of water to get rid of the
taste; and they visited the
sedge-bird's nest, and from
thence struck across the country
in high glee, beating the hedges
and brakes as they went along;
and Arthur at last, to his
intense delight, was allowed
to climb a small hedgerow oak
for a magpie's nest with Tom,
who kept all round him like
a mother, and showed him where
to hold and how to throw his
weight; and though he was in
a great fright, didn't show
it, and was applauded by all
for his lissomness.
They crossed a road soon afterwards,
and there, close to them, lay
a great heap of charming pebbles.
"Look here," shouted
East; "here's luck! I've
been longing for some good,
honest pecking this half-hour.
Let's fill the bags, and have
no more of this foozling bird-nesting."
No one objected, so each boy
filled the fustian bag he carried
full of stones. They crossed
into the next field, Tom and
East taking one side of the
hedges, and the other two the
other side. Noise enough they
made certainly, but it was
too early in the season for
the young birds, and the old
birds were too strong on the
wing for our young marksmen,
and flew out of shot after
the first discharge. But it
was great fun, rushing along
the hedgerows, and discharging
stone after stone at blackbirds
and chaffinches, though no
result in the shape of slaughtered
birds was obtained; and Arthur
soon entered into it, and rushed
to head back the birds, and
shouted, and threw, and tumbled
into ditches, and over and
through hedges, as wild as
the Madman himself.
Presently the party, in full
cry after an old blackbird
(who was evidently used to
the thing and enjoyed the fun,
for he would wait till they
came close to him, and then
fly on for forty yards or so,
and, with an impudent flicker
of his tail, dart into the
depths of the quickset), came
beating down a high double
hedge, two on each side.
"There he is again," "Head
him," "Let drive," "I
had him there," "Take
care where you're throwing,
Madman." The shouts might
have been heard a quarter of
a mile off. They were heard
some two hundred yards off
by a farmer and two of his
shepherds, who were doctoring
sheep in a fold in the next
field.
Now, the farmer in question
rented a house and yard situate
at the end of the field in
which the young bird-fanciers
had arrived, which house and
yard he didn't occupy or keep
any one else in. Nevertheless,
like a brainless and unreasoning
Briton, he persisted in maintaining
on the premises a large stock
of cocks, hens, and other poultry.
Of course, all sorts of depredators
visited the place from time
to time: foxes and gipsies
wrought havoc in the night;
while in the daytime, I regret
to have to confess that visits
from the Rugby boys, and consequent
disappearances of ancient and
respectable fowls were not
unfrequent. Tom and East had
during the period of their
outlawry visited the farm in
question for felonious purposes,
and on one occasion had conquered
and slain a duck there, and
borne away the carcass triumphantly,
hidden in their handkerchiefs.
However, they were sickened
of the practice by the trouble
and anxiety which the wretched
duck's body caused them. They
carried it to Sally Harrowell's,
in hopes of a good supper;
but she, after examining it,
made a long face, and refused
to dress or have anything to
do with it. Then they took
it into their study, and began
plucking it themselves; but
what to do with the feathers,
where to hide them?
"Good gracious, Tom,
what a lot of feathers a duck
has!" groaned East, holding
a bagful in his hand, and looking
disconsolately at the carcass,
not yet half plucked.
"And I do think he's
getting high, too, already," said
Tom, smelling at him cautiously, "so
we must finish him up soon."
"Yes,
all very well; but how are
we to cook him?
I'm sure I ain't going to try
it on in the hall or passages;
we can't afford to be roasting
ducks about - our character's
too bad."
"I wish we were rid of
the brute," said Tom,
throwing him on the table in
disgust. And after a day or
two more it became clear that
got rid of he must be; so they
packed him and sealed him up
in brown paper, and put him
in the cupboard of an unoccupied
study, where he was found in
the holidays by the matron,
a gruesome body.
They had never
been duck-hunting there since,
but others had,
and the bold yeoman was very
sore on the subject, and bent
on making an example of the
first boys he could catch.
So he and his shepherds crouched
behind the hurdles, and watched
the party, who were approaching
all unconscious. Why should
that old guinea-fowl be lying
out in the hedge just at this
particular moment of all the
year? Who can say? Guinea-fowls
always are; so are all other
things, animals, and persons,
requisite for getting one into
scrapes - always ready when
any mischief can come of them.
At any rate, just under East's
nose popped out the old guinea-hen,
scuttling along and shrieking, "Come
back, come back," at the
top of her voice. Either of
the other three might perhaps
have withstood the temptation,
but East first lets drive the
stone he has in his hand at
her, and then rushes to turn
her into the hedge again. He
succeeds, and then they are
all at it for dear life, up
and down the hedge in full
cry, the "Come back, come
back," getting shriller
and fainter every minute.
Meantime,
the farmer and his men steal
over the hurdles
and creep down the hedge towards
the scene of action. They are
almost within a stone's throw
of Martin, who is pressing
the unlucky chase hard, when
Tom catches sight of them,
and sings out, "Louts,
'ware louts, your side! Madman,
look ahead!" and then
catching hold of Arthur, hurries
him away across the field towards
Rugby as hard as they can tear.
Had he been by himself, he
would have stayed to see it
out with the others, but now
his heart sinks and all his
pluck goes. The idea of being
led up to the Doctor with Arthur
for bagging fowls quite unmans
and takes half the run out
of him.
However, no boys are more
able to take care of themselves
than East and Martin; they
dodge the pursuers, slip through
a gap, and come pelting after
Tom and Arthur, whom they catch
up in no time. The farmer and
his men are making good running
about a field behind. Tom wishes
to himself that they had made
off in any other direction,
but now they are all in for
it together, and must see it
out.
"You won't leave the
young un, will you?" says
he, as they haul poor little
Arthur, already losing wind
from the fright, through the
next hedge. "Not we," is
the answer from both. The next
hedge is a stiff one; the pursuers
gain horribly on them, and
they only just pull Arthur
through, with two great rents
in his trousers, as the foremost
shepherd comes up on the other
side. As they start into the
next field, they are aware
of two figures walking down
the footpath in the middle
of it, and recognize Holmes
and Diggs taking a constitutional.
Those good-natured fellows
immediately shout, "On." "Let's
go to them and surrender," pants
Tom. Agreed. And in another
minute the four boys, to the
great astonishment of those
worthies, rush breathless up
to Holmes and Diggs, who pull
up to see what is the matter;
and then the whole is explained
by the appearance of the farmer
and his men, who unite their
forces and bear down on the
knot of boys.
There is no
time to explain, and Tom's
heart beats frightfully
quick, as he ponders, "Will
they stand by us?"
The farmer makes a rush at
East and collars him; and that
young gentleman, with unusual
discretion, instead of kicking
his shins, looks appealingly
at Holmes, and stands still.
"Hullo there; not so
fast," says Holmes, who
is bound to stand up for them
till they are proved in the
wrong. "Now what's all
this about?"
"I've got the young varmint
at last, have I," pants
the farmer; "why, they've
been a-skulking about my yard
and stealing my fowls - that's
where 'tis; and if I doan't
have they flogged for it, every
one on 'em, my name ain't Thompson."
Holmes looks grave and Diggs's
face falls. They are quite
ready to fight - no boys in
the school more so; but they
are prepostors, and understand
their office, and can't uphold
unrighteous causes.
"I haven't been near
his old barn this half," cries
East. "Nor I," "Nor
I," chime in Tom and Martin.
"Now,
Willum, didn't you see 'em
there last week?"
"Ees, I seen 'em sure
enough," says Willum,
grasping a prong he carried,
and preparing for action.
The boys deny
stoutly, and Willum is driven
to admit that "if
it worn't they 'twas chaps
as like 'em as two peas'n;" and "leastways
he'll swear he see'd them two
in the yard last Martinmas," indicating
East and Tom.
Holmes has
had time to meditate. "Now,
sir," says he to Willum, "you
see you can't remember what
you have seen, and I believe
the boys."
"I doan't care," blusters
the farmer; "they was
arter my fowls to-day - that's
enough for I. - Willum, you
catch hold o' t'other chap.
They've been a-sneaking about
this two hours, I tells 'ee," shouted
he, as Holmes stands between
Martin and Willum, "and
have druv a matter of a dozen
young pullets pretty nigh to
death."
"Oh, there's a whacker!" cried
East; "we haven't been
within a hundred yards of his
barn; we haven't been up here
above ten minutes, and we've
seen nothing but a tough old
guinea-hen, who ran like a
greyhound."
"Indeed, that's all true,
Holmes, upon my honour," added
Tom; "we weren't after
his fowls; guinea-hen ran out
of the hedge under our feet,
and we've seen nothing else."
"Drat
their talk. Thee catch hold
o' t'other, Willum,
and come along wi' un."
"Farmer Thompson," said
Holmes, warning off Willum
and the prong with his stick,
while Diggs faced the other
shepherd, cracking his fingers
like pistol-shots, "now
listen to reason. The boys
haven't been after your fowls,
that's plain."
"Tells
'ee I see'd'em. Who be you,
I should like to
know?"
"Never you mind, farmer," answered
Holmes. "And now I'll
just tell you what it is: you
ought to be ashamed of yourself
for leaving all that poultry
about, with no one to watch
it, so near the School. You
deserve to have it all stolen.
So if you choose to come up
to the Doctor with them, I
shall go with you, and tell
him what I think of it."
The farmer began to take Holmes
for a master; besides, he wanted
to get back to his flock. Corporal
punishment was out of the question,
the odds were too great; so
he began to hint at paying
for the damage. Arthur jumped
at this, offering to pay anything,
and the farmer immediately
valued the guinea-hen at half
a sovereign.
"Half a sovereign!" cried
East, now released from the
farmer's grip; "well,
that is a good one! The old
hen ain't hurt a bit, and she's
seven years old, I know, and
as tough as whipcord; she couldn't
lay another egg to save her
life."
It was at
last settled that they should
pay the farmer
two shillings, and his man
one shilling; and so the matter
ended, to the unspeakable relief
of Tom, who hadn't been able
to say a word, being sick at
heart at the idea of what the
Doctor would think of him;
and now the whole party of
boys marched off down the footpath
towards Rugby. Holmes, who
was one of the best boys in
the School, began to improve
the occasion. "Now, you
youngsters," said he,
as he marched along in the
middle of them, "mind
this; you're very well out
of this scrape. Don't you go
near Thompson's barn again;
do you hear?"
Profuse promises from all,
especially East.
"Mind, I don't ask questions," went
on Mentor, "but I rather
think some of you have been
there before this after his
chickens. Now, knocking over
other people's chickens, and
running off with them, is stealing.
It's a nasty word, but that's
the plain English of it. If
the chickens were dead and
lying in a shop, you wouldn't
take them, I know that, any
more than you would apples
out of Griffith's basket; but
there's no real difference
between chickens running about
and apples on a tree, and the
same articles in a shop. I
wish our morals were sounder
in such matters. There's nothing
so mischievous as these school
distinctions, which jumble
up right and wrong, and justify
things in us for which poor
boys would be sent to prison." And
good old Holmes delivered his
soul on the walk home of many
wise sayings, and, as the song
says—
"Gee'd
'em a sight of good advice;"
which same sermon sank into
them all, more or less, and
very penitent they were for
several hours. But truth compels
me to admit that East, at any
rate, forgot it all in a week,
but remembered the insult which
had been put upon him by Farmer
Thompson, and with the Tadpole
and other hair-brained youngsters
committed a raid on the barn
soon afterwards, in which they
were caught by the shepherds
and severely handled, besides
having to pay eight shillings
- all the money they had in
the world - to escape being
taken up to the Doctor.
Martin became a constant inmate
in the joint study from this
time, and Arthur took to him
so kindly that Tom couldn't
resist slight fits of jealousy,
which, however, he managed
to keep to himself. The kestrel's
eggs had not been broken, strange
to say, and formed the nucleus
of Arthur's collection, at
which Martin worked heart and
soul, and introduced Arthur
to Howlett the bird-fancier,
and instructed him in the rudiments
of the art of stuffing. In
token of his gratitude, Arthur
allowed Martin to tattoo a
small anchor on one of his
wrists; which decoration, however,
he carefully concealed from
Tom. Before the end of the
half-year he had trained into
a bold climber and good runner,
and, as Martin had foretold,
knew twice as much about trees,
birds, flowers, and many other
things, as our good-hearted
and facetious young friend
Harry East.
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