Chapter 33

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

Dicksee only stayed till the following Christmas, and there was a general feeling of satisfaction in the school when it was known that he was not coming back after the holidays, Mr Hasnip forgetting himself so far as to say,--

"And a good job too."

It was a great relief to be rid of him, for, as I told Mercer, he was always ten times more sneaky and aggravating during the last half, and you couldn't stoop to hitting a fellow like that, especially when you knew how easily you could lick him.

"Oh, couldn't you?" said Mercer. "I could, and I would too, if he spoke to me as he does to you."

"Not you," I said.

"I would. I believe he never forgave you for saving his life."

It was during the autumn of the following year that Mercer and I, who had grown pretty big lads by that time, and had come to be looked up to by the others as captains of the cricket eleven and of the football, were standing at the window looking out over the woods talking, and watching the flickering of the lightning in the far east. We had all come up to our dormitories, but, instead of going at once to bed, we two were talking in a low voice about what a dark, soft night it was, when all at once there was a flash that was not lightning, apparently a short distance away, followed by the report of a gun.

"Oh, Tom!" I cried; "poachers!"

"Hush! Listen!" he said; and hardly had the words left his lips before there was another report, this time without the flash being seen.

"It is poachers," I said excitedly, "and they're in Long Spinney. Why, where's Bob Hopley? They're clearing off the pheasants."

We listened, and there was another report, and another, and I was certain that it was in Sir Hawkhurst's best preserve, where I had seen Bob Hopley feeding the beautiful birds only a week before, and Mercer had come away with me feeling miserable because he could not have one to stuff.

There was another report, and I grew more and more excited.

"Tom," I whispered, "let's go down and slip out of the schoolroom window."

"And go and see. But suppose we're caught?"

"We shan't be," I whispered; "let's go. I can't bear to stand still here and listen to those birds being shot. Sir Hawkhurst is so proud of them."

"I should like to go."

"Come on, then. Bob Hopley must be asleep."

"One moment," said Tom, hesitating. "Let's ask the Doctor to let us go."

"He wouldn't," I cried impatiently.

"No, he wouldn't," said Tom. "Come on."

We opened our door softly, stole down, and reached the schoolroom unseen, after listening at the masters' sitting-room door, and hearing them chatting together. One of the windows was open to ventilate the place after its crowded state all the evening, for, in that out-of-the-way part of the country, there was no fear felt of housebreakers, and, stepping up on the desk, I thrust out my legs, and dropped lightly into the playground, to be followed by Mercer, who was breathing hard with excitement. Then, making for the grounds in front, we saw a light shining out before us on to the closely-cut lawn.

The Doctor's window was open, and, as we crept by, sheltered by the shrubs, there was another report, and the Doctor came and looked out.

"I'm afraid it's poachers, my dears," he said. "Well, I'm not a gamekeeper."

We hurried along the lawn, leaving him looking out, ran lightly along the grassy marge of the carriage drive, and passed through the swing gate, but stopped short.

"Caught," I said to myself, as a tall, dark figure stepped out before us.

"Hallo! where are you young gents going?"

"Oh, Lom, don't tell," I panted. "There are poachers down in Long Spinney."

"I know," he said; "I heard 'em."

"And we're going down to tell Bob Hopley."

"On the sly?"

"Yes; the Doctor don't know. You won't get us into a scrape?"

"Well, you know, I ought to; but--"

"You won't, Lom?"

"Well, not this time. I was just going to bed when I heard them, and thought I'd run down and ask Bob Hopley if he wanted any help. Look here!"

He held up a big oaken stick, and, thoroughly in accord, we all started off at a trot, and in a very short time were in the lane where Bob Hopley's lodge stood.

"He's off somewhere at the other side of the estate," whispered Lomax, "and they've watched him go. I say, don't you boys come near if there's a row."

"Hist! Who's that?" said a familiar voice out of the darkness. "Father?"

"No, my dear, it isn't your father."

"Oh, Mr Lomax, what shall I do? Father's been over to Hastings to-day, and hasn't come back. There's a gang of poachers clearing the Long Spinney, and it will break his heart. I thought it was him come back. There--there they go again."

For there were several reports of guns not very far away.

"I don't know what to do," said Lomax; "I've got plenty of fight in me, and I'm ready to charge down on them, but they'll be too much for one."

"I'll come with you, and bring father's gun."

"But you mustn't use it, my girl. If we could frighten them somehow. Come on, and let's try. I know--we'll all go close up and shout."

"They won't mind that," said Polly; but we went on in the darkness so quickly and quietly, that we were soon alongside a black plantation of Scotch fir-trees, in time to hear two more shots, and the heavy thuds of falling bodies.

"Now, are you ready?" whispered Lomax.

"Yes," we said, but at that moment a figure darted by us, and entered the black wood.

"One of them," said Lomax. "Let's holloa, all the same."

But, before we had drawn breath for the shout, there was a yell, a dull sound as of a stick striking a gun-barrel, then a crashing of the lower branches, cries, blows, and a loud voice calling to the poachers to give in.

"Why, it's father got back," cried Polly Hopley. "Oh, Mr Lomax, go and help, or they'll kill him!"

The old sergeant's mettle was roused, and he dashed into the wood, while, with every pulse throbbing with excitement, we boys followed the direction taken, finding that the poachers were evidently retreating, from the sounds growing farther away.

Then all at once there was the sharp report of a gun, followed by a wild shriek.

"It's father! They've shot him!" cried Polly, who, unknown to us, was close behind. "Run, run!"

We pressed on. It was impossible to run in the darkness, and as we hurried along, a voice cried just in front,--

"You've shot my mate. Take that!"

At almost the same time came a sharp rap, a loud report, and then a heavy, dull blow.

"Father, father!" shrieked Polly, as we heard the rustling and breaking of branches, evidently caused by men in full retreat.

"All right, my lass. Quick: go back to the lodge for a lantern. Man shot."

She turned and ran back, while we kept on, and reached an opening in the wood, where we made out, dimly, two tall figures, and my blood turned cold at a piteous moaning from somewhere on the ground.

"Who's there?" cried Bob Hopley's voice.

"Only us, Bob," I said. "Are you hurt?"

"Nay, lad, not a bit. I should ha' been, though, if Mr Lomax hadn't knocked up the barrel with his stick and then downed the man."

"You've murdered my mate," came from close by our feet. "You've shot him."

"First time I ever did shoot anything without a gun," said the keeper. "One of you hit him, or he did it himself."

"You shot him--you murdered him," cried the man who had spoken, struggling to his knees, and then crouching among the pine needles, holding his head with his hands as if it were broken, and rocking himself to and fro.

"Oh, if that's it," said Bob Hopley, "I must have witnesses. Mr Lomax, I've just come from Hastings. I heard the shooting o' my fezzans, and I come on with this stick. You see I've no gun, and you, too, young gents?"

"Yah! you shot him," groaned the man, who was evidently in great pain; "and then you knocked me down with the bar'l o' the gun."

"Oh, come, that won't do, lad," cried Lomax; "that was a cut from the left. I gave you that, my lad, to keep you from shooting me."

"Pair o' big cowards, that's what you are."

"Cowards, eh?" cried Lomax. "Not much o' that, Hopley. Two men with sticks against a gang of you fellows with guns. How many were you?"

"Nine on us," groaned the man. "Oh, my yed, my yed!"

"Nine of you to two honest men. Serve you right. Should have stopped at home and earned an honest living, not come stealing game."

"What!" cried the man fiercely; "'taren't stealing; they're wild birds, and as much our'n as his'n."

"You're a donkey," said Lomax. "Why, there'd be no pheasants if they weren't reared like chickens."

"That's so," said Hopley.--"Why don't that gal bring a light?"

"Here she comes," cried Mercer, for he caught sight of the dim glow of the horn lantern among the trees, and as it came nearer, Bob Hopley said,--

"Hadn't you young gents better get back to bed? this here aren't no place for you."

"No, no, don't send us away, Bob," I said; "we want to see."

"Well, you will be witnesses," he growled, and the next minute he took the lantern from Polly, who was panting with excitement.

"Oh, father dear," she cried, "are you hurt?"

"Not a bit, my lass," he cried, stooping quickly and kissing her. "Will you stay or go? It's ugly."

"Stay, father."

"Right, my lass. Now, Mr Lomax, what about this chap you downed," he continued, holding the lantern so that the light fell upon the kneeling man, whose forehead was bleeding freely. "You give it him and no mistake," he chuckled. "Here, tie this hankychy round your head, and don't bellow there like a great calf. Master Burr junior, pick up and take charge of that gun, will you? Stop! let's see if she's loaded. No. All right. I forgot. She went off herself, I suppose," he added grimly, "when he tried to shoot Mr Lomax or me."

"I didn't," whimpered the man.

"There, don't make wuss on it by telling lies, you skulking hound," cried Bob, who was as fierce now as could be. "Mr Lomax, will you see as he don't get away?"

"He'd better try to," said the old sergeant, making his stick whizz through the air.

"Now, where's t'other?" said Hopley. "Mind, keep back, you lads. He's got a gun too, and he's hurt, and may be savage."

"Oh, take care, father!" cried Polly. "Let me go first--he wouldn't shoot a woman."

"Want to make me ashamed of myself and get hiding behind a gal's petticutt!" cried Bob. "G'long with you."

He strode forward with the lantern for a few yards, and then held it down over the spot from which a low groaning had come, but which had ceased for some minutes now.

It was very horrible, but the weird scene beneath those heavy boughs, with the keeper's burly form thrown up by the yellow glow of the lantern and the shadowy aspect of the trees around, with the light faintly gleaming on their trunks, fascinated us so that we followed Hopley with his daughter to where he stood.

"Now, squire," he said, "where are you hurt?"

The man, who seemed to be lying all of a heap, uttered a groan, and Hopley held the light nearer.

"I'm fear'd he's got it badly, Polly," growled the keeper. "Hah!"

"Oh, father!"

"None o' my doing, my lass. Here, all on you. This is a madgistrit's business, and I don't want to get credit for what I never did. So just look."

He held the lantern down for us to see.

"He's got one o' them poaching guns, you see, with a short barrel as unscrews in the middle, and he must ha' been taking it to pieces when it was loaded, and shot hisself when running among the bushes."

"Why, it's Magglin!" I shouted excitedly.

"What!" cried the keeper, holding the lantern lower, and Polly uttered a cry. "Magglin it is!" he said, as the man opened his eyes, and gazed wildly up at the lantern.

"Where are you hurt, my lad?" said the keeper quietly.

"My arm! my arm!" groaned the man piteously.

The keeper took out his knife, and, giving Mercer the lantern to hold, deliberately slit up the sleeves of the injured man's jacket and shirt.

"Hah!" he ejaculated. "He's put the whole charge o' shot through his arm, above the elbow;" and, hurriedly taking a piece of cord from his jacket pocket, Hopley made a rough tourniquet, and stopped the bleeding as much as he could.

"You, Polly," he said as he worked, "go down to the house and see Sir Orkus. Tell him all about it, and ask him to send help, and some one off for the surgeon. One of the young gents'll go with you, I dessay."

"I'll go with her," said Mercer, and they hurried away.

"There," said Hopley, as he finished his rough dressing of the wound, "I can't do no more, and we can't carry him to my place. We must wait."

"Oh, Master 'Opley, sir," groaned the unfortunate man, "is it very bad?"

"Wait and hear what the doctor says, when he comes. I didn't do it, did I?"

"No, sir; I was taking the gun to pieces, and she--Oh!"

"Bear up, man, bear up."

"I'll--I'll never go poaching any more," groaned Magglin, and his head fell back.

"Never with two arms, my lad," said the keeper. "Poor fellow! my fezzans do tempt 'em. He's fainted. Could you take the lantern, sir, and find your way to my cottage?"

"Yes," I said eagerly; "what shall I do?"

"Open the corner cupboard, sir, and you'll find a small flask on the top shelf--flask with a cup on it. Bring it, please. It's brandy: drop'll bring him round."

I went off directly, saying a word to Lomax as I went, and returning pretty quickly with the spirit, which had the effect of reviving the sufferer.

Then we waited, till at the end of half an hour we heard voices, then saw lights, and the General, with Polly, the butler, two gardeners, and the groom, came up, the coachman having driven off to fetch the doctor; and the wounded man was carefully raised, placed on a rug, and carried off by four men, Hopley and the General following with the other prisoner, who could walk, while Lomax and we two boys went slowly back toward the school, talking about the exciting scene.

"I say, young gents," said Lomax suddenly, "it'll all come out about your breaking barracks."

"Yes, Lom," I said; "we shall be found out."

"Of course. You'll have to go with me as witnesses."

"Yes. What had we better do?"

"Go and make a clean breast of it to the colonel in the morning."

"To my uncle?"

"No, no; the Doctor. Good-night."

We slipped in as we had come out, reaching our room unheard, but it was a long time before excitement would let us sleep. _

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