Chapter 12. An Awkward Predicament

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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. AN AWKWARD PREDICAMENT

For the next fortnight we were all very busy picking and packing fruit, and Ike was off every night about eleven or twelve with his load, coming back after market in the morning, and only doing a little work in the garden of an afternoon, and seeing to the packing ready for a fresh start in the night.

The weather was glorious, and the pears came on so fast that Shock and I were always picking so that they might not be too ripe.

It was a delightful time, for the novelty having gone off I was able to do my work with ease. I did not try to move the ladder any more, so I had no accident of that kind; and though I slipped once or twice, I was able to save myself, and began to feel quite at home up in the trees.

Every now and then if Shock was anywhere near he played some monkey trick or another. His idea evidently was to frighten me by seeming to fall or by hanging by hand or leg. But he never succeeded now, for I knew him too well; and though I admired his daring at times, when he threw himself backwards on the ladder and slid down head foremost clinging with his legs, I did not run to his help.

In spite of the conversation I had had with him in the shed, we were no better friends next time we met, or rather when we nearly met, for whenever he saw me coming he turned his back and went off in another direction.

As I said, a fortnight had passed, and the fruit-picking was at its height as far as pears and apples went, when one night, after a very hot day, when the cart was waiting in the yard, loaded up high with bushel and half-bushel baskets, and the horse was enjoying his corn, and rattling his chain by the manger, I left Old Brownsmith smoking his pipe and reading a seed-list, and strolled out into the garden.

It was a starlight night, and very cool and pleasant, as I went down one of the paths and then back along another, trying to make out the blossoms of the nasturtiums that grew so thickly along the borders just where I was.

The air smelt so sweet and fresh that it seemed to do me good, but I was thinking that I must be getting back into the house and up to my bed, when the fancy took me that I should like to go down the path as far as Mrs Beeton's house, and look at the window where I used to sit when Shock pelted me with clay.

The path was made with ashes, so that my footsteps were very quiet, and as I walked in the shadow of a large row of pear-trees I was almost invisible. In fact I could hardly see my own hand.

All at once I stopped short, for I heard a peculiar scratching noise and a whispering, and, though I could hardly distinguish anything, I was perfectly sure that somebody had climbed to the top of the wall, and was sitting there with a leg over our side, for I heard it rustling amongst the plum boughs.

"It's all right," was whispered; and then there was more scuffling, and it seemed to me that some one else had climbed up.

Then another and another, and then they seemed to pull up another one, so that I believed there were five people on the wall.

Then came some whispering, and I felt sure that they were boys, for one said:

"Now, then, all together!" in a boyish voice, when there was a lot of rustling and scratching, and I could hear the plum-tree branches trained to the wall torn down, one breaking right off, as the intruders dropped over into our garden.

For the moment I was puzzled. Then I knew what it meant, and a flush of angry indignation came into my cheeks.

"Boys after our pears!" I said to myself as my fists clenched. For I had become so thoroughly at home at Old Brownsmith's that everything seemed to belong to me, and I felt it was my duty to defend it.

I listened to make sure, and heard a lot of whispering going on as the marauders crossed the path I was on, rustled by amongst the gooseberry bushes, and went farther into the garden.

"They're after the _Marie Louise_ pears," I thought; and I was about to run and shout at them, for I knew that would startle them away; but on second thoughts I felt as if I should like to catch some of them, and turning, I ran softly back up the path, meaning to tell Mr Brownsmith.

But before I had reached the end of the path another idea had occurred to me. Old Brownsmith would not be able to catch one of the boys, but Shock would if he was up in the loft, and in the hope that he was sleeping there I ran to the foot of the steps, scrambled up, and pushing back the door, which was only secured with a big wooden latch, I crept in as cautiously as I could.

"Shock!" I whispered. "Shock! Are you here?"

I listened, but there was not a sound.

"Shock!" I whispered again. "Shock!"

"If ver don't go I'll heave the hay-fork at yer," came in a low angry voice.

"No, no: don't," I said. "I want you. Come on, and bring a big stick: there's some boys stealing the pears."

There was a rustle and a scramble, and Shock was by my side, more full of life and excitement than I had ever noticed him before.

"Pears?" he whispered hoarsely; "arter the pears? Where? Where are they?"

He kept on the move, making for the door and coming back, and behaving altogether like a dog full of expectation of a rush after some wild creature in a hunt.

"Be quiet or we sha'n't catch them," I whispered. "Some boys have climbed over the wall, and are after the _Marie Louise_ pears."

He stopped short suddenly.

"Yah!" he cried, "they ain't. It's your larks."

"You stupid fellow! I tell you they are."

"Mary Louisas ain't ripe," he cried.

"Don't care; they've gone after them. Come, and bring a stick."

"Fain larks," he said dubiously.

"Just as if I would play tricks with you!" I cried impatiently.

"No, you wouldn't, would yer?" he said hoarsely. "Wouldn't be hard on a chap. Stop a minute."

He rustled off amongst the straw, and I heard a rattling noise and then a chuckle, and Shock was back to hand me a stick as thick as my finger.

"Hezzles," he whispered--"nut hezzle. Come along. You go first."

Though I had roused Shock out of bed he had no dressing to do, and following me down the ladder he walked quickly after me down one of the paths, then to the right along another till we came to a corner, when we both stopped and listened.

Shock began to hiss very softly, as if he were a steam-engine with the vapour escaping from the safety-valve, as we heard, about fifty yards from us, the rustling of the pear-trees, the heavy shake of a bough, and then through the pitchy darkness _whop! whop! whop! whop_! as the pears fell on to the soft ground.

"You go this way," I whispered to Shock, "and I'll go that way, and then we'll rush in and catch them."

"Yes," he said back. "Hit hard, and mind and get hold o' the bag."

We were separating when he caught hold of my arm.

"'Old 'ard," he whispered. "Let's rush 'em together."

In the darkness perhaps his was the better plan. At all events we adopted it, and taking hold of hands we advanced on tiptoe trembling with expectation, our sticks grasped, and every now and then the pendent branches of some tree rustling in and sweeping our faces. And all the time, just in front, we could hear the hurried shaking of boughs, the fall of the pears, and tittering and whispering as the party seemed to be picking up the spoil.

"We shall have too many," whispered a voice just before us.

"Never mind; let's fill the bag. Go it, boys."

"Hush! Some one'll hear."

"Not they. Go on. Here's a bough loaded. Oh, I say!" Shock gave my hand a nip to which I responded, and then all at once from under the tree where we stood we made a rush at the indistinct figures we could sometimes make out a few yards away.

_Whish, rush, whack_!

"I say what are you doing of?"

"Oh!"

"Run! run!"

"Oh!"

These ejaculations were mingled with the blows dealt by our sticks, several of which fell upon heads, backs, legs, and arms, anywhere, though more struck the trees; and in the excitement one I delivered did no end of mischief to a young pear-tree, and brought down a shower of fruit upon my head.

It was all the work of a few moments. At the first the marauding party thought it was some trick of a companion; directly after they scattered and ran, under the impression that Old Brownsmith and all his men were in pursuit.

As for me, I felt red-hot with excitement, and found myself after a dash through some gooseberry bushes, whose pricking only seemed to give me fresh energy, running along a path after one boy at whom I kept cutting with my hazel stick.

At every stroke there was a howl from the boy, who kept on shouting as he ran:

"Oh! please, sir--oh! sir--don't, sir--oh! pray, sir!"

In my hard-heartedness and excitement I showed no mercy, but every time I got near enough as we panted on I gave him a sharp cut, and he would have been punished far worse if all at once I had not run right into a hanging bough of one of the pears, and gone down backwards, while when I scrambled up again my stick was gone.

I felt that if I waited to search for it I should lose the boy I meant to make a prisoner, and ran on in the direction where I could hear his steps.

Knowing the garden as I did I was able to make a cut so as to recover the lost ground, for I realised that he was making for the wall, and I was just in time to catch him as he scrambled up one of the trained trees, and had his chest on the top.

He would have been over in another second or two had I not made a jump at his legs, one of which I caught, and, twisting my arms round it, I held on with all my might.

"Oh! oh!" he yelled pitifully. "Pray let me go, sir. I'll never come no more, sir. Help! oh my! help!"

"Come down," I panted as well as I could for want of breath, "come down!" and I gave the leg I held a tremendous shake.

"Oh!--oh! Pray let me go this time, sir."

"Come down," I cried again fiercely, and I nearly dragged him from the wall, as I held on with all my might.

"No, sir! oh, sir! It wasn't me, sir. It was--oh, please let me go!"

The voice sounded as if it were on the outside of the wall, as my captive hung by his elbows and chest, while I could feel the leg I held quiver and tremble as I tugged hard to get its owner down into the garden; but distant and muffled as that voice was, it seemed familiar when it yelled again:

"Oh I pray let me go this time, sir."

"No," I shouted, as I gave the leg a snatch and hung on, "Come down, you thieving rascal, come down."

"Why, it's you, is it?" came from the top of the wall, a little plainer now.

"What! George Day!" I exclaimed, but without relaxing my hold.

"Oh, you sneak!" he cried. "Let go, will you."

"No," I cried stoutly. "Come down."

"Sha'n't. It ain't your place. Let go, you sneak."

"I sha'n't," I cried angrily. "Come down, you thief."

"If you call me a thief I'll come down and half smash you. Let go!"

His courage returned as he found out who was his captor, and he kicked out savagely, but I held on.

"Do you hear?" he cried. "Here, let go, and I'll give you a fourpenny piece out of my next pocket-money."

"You come down to Mr Brownsmith," I cried.

"Get out! You know who I am: George Day."

"I know you're a thief, and I shall take you up to Mr Brownsmith," I said, "and here he comes."

"If you don't let go," he cried with a sudden access of fury, "I'll just come down and I'll--"

He did not finish his threat. I daresay it would have been something very dreadful, but I was not in the least frightened as I held on; but as he clung to the big quaint coping of the wall he suddenly gave two or three such tremendous kicks that one of them, aided by his getting his free foot on my shoulder, was given with such force that I was driven backwards, and after staggering a few steps, caught my heel and came down in a sitting position upon the path.

I leaped to my feet again, but only just in time to hear a scuffling noise on the top of the wall, the sound of some one dropping on the other side, and then _pat, pat, pat_, steps fast repeated, as my prisoner ran away.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, with a stamp of the foot in my disappointment.

"Chiv-ee! Why, ho! Where are yer?"

"Here, Shock!" I cried in answer to the shout on my right, and the boy came running up.

"Got him?"

"No," I replied. "He climbed up the wall and kicked me backwards. Didn't you catch one?"

"No. They skiddled off like rabbuts, and the one I tried to run down dodged me in the dark, and when I heerd him he was close up to the fence t'other side, and got away. Didn't I give it some of 'em though!"

"Oh! I do wish we had caught one," I exclaimed; and then I felt as if I did not wish so, especially as the boy I had chased was George Day.

"They didn't get the pears," said Shock suddenly; and now it struck me that we had suddenly grown to be wonderfully talkative, and the best of friends.

"No," I replied, "I don't think they got the pears. Let's go and see."

We trudged off, I for my part feeling very stiff, and as if all the excitement had gone out of the adventure; and in a minute we were feeling about under the pear-trees, and kicking against fallen fruit.

"Here she is," said Shock suddenly. "Big bag. Stodge full."

I ran to him, and was in the act of passing my hands over the bulging bag when I uttered a faint cry of horror, for something soft seemed to have dropped upon my back, and a voice from out of the darkness exclaimed:

"What are you boys doing here?"

At the same moment I knew that it was one of the cats that had leaped upon my back, and Old Brownsmith who was speaking.

"We have been after some boys who were stealing the pears, sir," I said.

"Were they?" cried the old man sternly; "and I've come and caught them. You, Shock, bring that bag up to the door."

Shock seized and shouldered the bag, and we followed the old gentleman to the house; but though I spoke two or three times he made no reply, and I felt too much hurt by his suspicions to say more.

There was a large house lantern alight in the kitchen, as if the old gentleman had been about to bring it down the garden with him and had altered his mind, and the first thing he did was to open the lantern, take out the candle in his fingers, and hold it up so as to look at each of us in turn, frowning and suspicious, while we shrank and half-closed our eyes, dazzled by the light.

Then he turned his attention to the big bag which Shock had placed upon the table, the top of which opened out, and a pear or two rolled upon the floor as soon as it was released.

"Humph! Pillow-case, eh?" said the old man, and his face brightened as if the suspicion was being cleared away. "Who heard 'em?"

"I did, sir," I cried; and I told him how I had wakened up Shock, and of our fight; but I did not mention George Day's name, and I did not mean to do so unless I was asked, for it seemed to be so shocking for a boy like that to be charged with stealing fruit.

"Humph! Ought to have caught some of the dogs! but I say, did you hit 'em hard?"

"As hard as I could, sir," I replied innocently.

"Hah! aha! That's right. Young scoundrels. Spoilt a basket of pears that were not ripe. Young dogs! I'll put glass bottles all along the walls, and see how they like that. There, be off to bed."

I hesitated.

"Well," he said, "what is it?"

"You don't think it was I who went to steal the pears, sir?" I said uneasily.

"My good boy, no!" he said. "Pooh! nonsense! Looked like it at first. Caught you dirty-handed. Good night!"

He turned away, and I ran into the yard, where Shock was slowly going back to his hole in the straw.

"Good night, Shock!" I said.

He stopped without turning round, and did not reply. It was as if the sulky morose fit had come over him again, but it did not last, for he half turned his head and said:

"I hit one on 'em such a crack on the nut."

Then he went to the ladder and climbed up into the loft, and I stood listening to him as he nestled down in amongst the straw. Then Old Brownsmith came to the back-door with the lantern and called me in to go up to my room. _

Read next: Chapter 13. Learning My Lessons

Read previous: Chapter 11. Making Things Right

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