under which he once went to sleep. The Bailiff was older now, mucholder, and though he was so stout and big he did not do much work withhis hands. He stood there, leaning his back against the oak, with hishazel staff in his hand, watching the stone-pickers, who were gatheringup the bits of broken earthenware and rubbish from among the cowslipsout of the way of the scythe; watching, too, the plough yonder in thearable field beyond; and with his eyes now and then on John. Whilethose grey eyes were about, work, you may be sure, was not slack. SoBevis pouted, and picked up a stone, and threw it at the Bailiff, takinggood care, however, not to hit him. The stone fell in the hedge behindthe Bailiff, and made him start, as he could not think what creature itcould be, for rabbits and weasels and other animals and birds move assilently as possible, and this made a sharp tap.
Bevis returned slowly down the meadow, and as he came near the house,having now given up hope of getting the raft to the brook, he caughtsight of a cart-horse outside the stable. He ran and found the carter'slad, who had been sent home with the horse; the horse had been haulingsmall pieces of timber out of the mowing-grass with a chain, and the ladwas just going to take off the harness.
"Stop," said Bevis, "stop directly, and hitch the chain on my raft."
The boy hesitated; he dared not disobey the carter, and he had been introuble for pleasing Bevis before.
"This instant," said Bevis, stamping his foot; "I'm your master."
"No; that you beant," said the boy slowly, very particular as to facts;"your feyther be my master."
"You do it this minute," said Bevis, hot in the face, "or I'll _kill_you; but if you'll do it I'll give you--sixpence."
The boy still hesitated, but he grinned; then he looked round, then heturned the horse's head--unwilling, for the animal thought he was goingto the manger--and did as Bevis told him. Behind the strong cart-horsethe raft was nothing, it left a trail all across the grass right down tothe brook; Bevis led the way to the drinking-place, where the groundsloped to the water. The boy once embarked in the business, worked witha will--highly delighted himself with the idea--and he and Bevistogether pushed the raft into the stream.
"Now you hold the rope," said Bevis, "while I get in," and he put onefoot on the raft.
Just then there came a whistle, first a long low call, then a quaver,then two short calls repeated.
"That's Mark," said Bevis, and in he hastened. "Push me off," for oneedge of the raft touched the sandy shore.
"Holloa!" shouted Mark, racing down the meadow from the gateway; "stop aminute! let me!--"
"Push," said Bevis.
The boy shoved the raft off; it floated very well, but the moment it wasfree of the ground and Bevis's weight had to be entirely supported, thewater squirted in around the edges.
"You'll be drownded," said the carter's lad.
"Pooh!" said Bevis.
"I shall jump in," said Mark, making as if he were about to leap.
"If you do I'll hit you," said Bevis, doubling his fists; "I say!--"
For the water rushed in rapidly, and was already half an inch deep.When he caulked his vessel, he stopped all the seams of the bottom, buthe had overlooked the chinks round the edges, between the narrow planksthat formed the gunwales or sides, and the bottom to which they werefastened.
Bevis moved towards the driest side of the raft, but directly he steppedthere and depressed it with his weight the water rushed after him, andhe was deeper than over in it. It came even over his boots.
"Let I get in," said the boy; "mine be water-tights."
"Pull me back," said Bevis.
Mark seized the rope, and he and the boy gave such a tug that Bevis,thrown off his balance, must have fallen into the brook had he notjumped ashore and escaped with one foot wet through to the ankle.
"Yaa--you!" they heard a rough voice growling, like a dog muttering abark in his throat, and instantly the carter's lad felt a grip on theback of his neck. It was the Bailiff who marched him up the meadow,holding the boy by the neck with one hand and leading the cart-horsewith the other. Bevis and Mark were too full of the raft even to noticethat their assistant had been haled off.
First they pulled till they had got it ashore; then they tilted it up tolet the water run out; then they examined the chinks where it had comein.
"Here's my handkerchief," said Mark; "put that in."
The handkerchief, a very dirty one, was torn into shreds and forced intothe chinks. It was not enough, so Bevis tore up his; still there wereholes. Bevis roamed up and down the grass in his excitement, gazinground for something to stop these leaks.
"I know," said he suddenly, "moss will do. Come on."
He made for a part of the meadow much overshadowed by trees, where themoss threatened to overcome the grass altogether, so well did itflourish in the coolness and moisture, for the dew never dried thereeven at noonday. The Bailiff had it torn up by the harrow, but it wasno good, it would grow. Bevis always got moss from here to put in histin can for the worms when he went fishing. Mark was close behind him,and together they soon had a quantity of moss. After they had filledthe chinks as they thought, they tried the boat again, Bevis insistingon his right to get in first as it was his property. But it stillleaked, so they drew it out once more and again caulked the seams. Tomake it quite tight Bevis determined to put some clay as well, to linethe chinks with it like putty. So they had to go home to the garden,get the trowel out of the summer-house where Bevis kept such things, andthen dig a few lumps of clay out of the mound.
There was only one place where there was any clay accessible, they knewthe spot well--was there anything they did not know? Working up thelumps of clay with their hands and the water so as to soften and renderit plastic, they carefully lined the chinks, and found when theylaunched the raft that this time it floated well and did not admit asingle drop. For the third time, Bevis stepped on board, balancinghimself with a pole he had brought down from the garden, for he hadfound before that it was difficult to stand upright on a small raft.Mark pushed him off: Bevis kept one end of the pole touching the bottom,and so managed very well. He guided the raft out of the drinking-place,which was like a little pond beside the brook, and into the stream.
There the current took it, and all he had to do was to keep it fromgrounding on the shallows, where the flags were rising out of the mud,or striking against the steep banks where the cowslips overhung thewater. With his feet somewhat apart to stand the firmer, his browfrowning (with resolution), and the pole tight in his hands--all grimedwith clay--Bevis floated slowly down the stream. The sun shone hot andbright, and he had of course left his hat on the sward where it hadfallen off as he stooped to the caulking: the wind blew and lifted hishair: his feet were wet. But he never noticed the heat, nor the wind,nor his wet feet, nor his clayey hands. He had done it--he was quitelost in his raft.
Round the bend the brook floated him gently, past the willow where thewood-pigeon built (he was afraid to come near his nest while they wereabout), past the thick hawthorn bushes white with may-bloom, under whichthe blackbirds love to stay in the hottest days in the cool shadow bythe water. Where there were streaks of white sand sifted by the streamfrom the mud, he could see the bottom: under the high bank there was aswirl as if the water wrestled with something under the surface: awater-rat, which had watched him coming from a tiny terrace, dived witha sound like a stone dropped quietly in: the stalks of flags grazed thebottom of the raft, he could hear them as it drew on: a jack struck andrushed wildly up and down till he found a way to slip by; the raft gavea heave and shot swiftly forward where there had once been a bay and wasstill a fall of two inches or so: a bush projected so much that he couldwith difficulty hold the boughs aside and prevent the thorns fromscratching his face: a snag scraped the bottom of the boat and the jerknearly overthrew him--he did not mind that, he feared lest the old stumphad started a seam, but fortunately it had not done so.
Then there was a straight course, a broad and open reach, at which heshouted with deligh
t. The wind came behind and pushed his back like asail and the little silvery ripples ran before him, and dashed againstthe shore, destroying themselves and their shadows under them at thesame time. The raft floated without piloting here, steadily on. Bevislifted his pole and waved his hand in triumph.
From the gateway the carter's lad watched him; he had got away from theangry Bailiff. From the garden ha-ha, near the rhubarb patch, Polly thedairymaid watched him, gesticulating every now and then with her arms,for she had been sent to call him to dinner. Mark, wild with envy andadmiration and desire to share the voyage, walked on the bank, beggingto conic in, for Bevis to get out or let him join him, threatening toleap aboard from the high bank where the current drifted the raft rightunder him, pulling off his
Bevis: The Story of a Boy Page 3