helpless. Had theapparition taken a knife out and proceeded to kill us, I do not think Ishould have lifted a hand or uttered a cry, except a frightened moanlike a person in a nightmare.
He stood and looked down at us long and earnestly. A strangely haggard,but not an evil face, black beard of a week's growth perhaps, and shortdark hair hardly seen for the napkin that bound his head instead of ahat or cap.
We found voice at last, both at the same time. "Oh, sir," we said,beseechingly, "do not kill us!" He started as we spoke the last twowords, started as if stung, and gazed behind him with quick dramaticaction, his black eyes all ablaze for the moment. So have I often sinceseen a hunted wolf look when at bay.
The first words he spoke betrayed him to be a foreigner.
"Kill!" he said, "what for I kill you? You alone? All alone?"
"Yes," we replied, "yes, sir, quite alone."
"'Tis goot. Do not fear me. Where go you to-morrow day? What you dohere?"
I glanced at him for a moment before I spoke, and the truth flashedacross my mind. This was the terrible convict we heard the soldiers saywas abroad on the moor. He was not in convict dress, and though hiscoat was in rags, his boots were good. We learned from him, afterwards,that he had exchanged clothes, strange though it appeared, with ascarecrow. There was some humour here, though sadly blended withdeepest pathos.
No, this man might rob, but he would not kill us. He was in troublelike 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 speakmuch. I am Espanol. I am a convict. Do not fear. I have never killone. No--no--no."
He sat down beside the candle and took out a knife and a turnip.
Something told me the poor fellow was famishing. I jumped up and wentto my bag, and placed bread and bacon in his hand. He ate ravenouslyand thanked me. Perhaps it was only fancy, but I thought I saw tears inhis eyes.
While he ate, much to our astonishment, a little black mouse ran downhis sleeve, and sat on the back of his left hand, which he took care tokeep still. The creature ate hungrily of the crumbs he gave it, andwhen finished, he held out his little finger, around which the mouseentwined both its little arms, while it licked it as lovingly as a dogwould have done. Then, at a sign from the convict, it once moreretreated.
I am sure, even now, that it was his love for the gentle wee mouse thatmade 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 shore.My mate and me alone live. We trabel much. We seek for friend. Nofind. Then we come to big town, Cardeef, you call it. Here we findgoot friend. We go seek for ship then to take us to Cadeeth. It isnight. All my money in my belt. Bad men come out, kill my mate. Ihear voices, footsteps. I run up to my mate. I pull out the uglyknife. I am caught there. I am taken to preeson, tried beforejustice--justice, ha! ha! I not kill my poor mate. All same. No onespeak 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 nowI 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, myfriend, in dat little mouse. The warder want to kill him. Den I say, Iescape or die. You may believe me. 'Tis all true. What for I telllittle chaps like you lie. I have good friend at home. I will tell alldere. The Espanol Government will make de Angleese restitute. But deycannot bring back Roderigo."
"Did you love Roderigo very much?"
"He was best of friend. All same as brother. Yes, I love him. Andyou? What you do?"
Then, boy-like, we told this man all our terrible tale. We expected himto be visibly affected; perhaps, convict though he was, to shrink fromus.
He certainly was visibly affected, but in a way we little expected. Helaughed 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 washhis face and blink at the candle. The convict pointed to it with aforefinger and laughed again.
"Even Roderigo," he cried, "is much amoose. Ha, ha, ha! Ah, boys," headded, almost immediately getting serious; "you have a home. Go back todat 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 andshowed him my money. Even little Roderigo--Jill afterwards declared--paused in the act of washing 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 ofkindness. 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 twosovereigns, and I put away the rest. He sat a long time silent afterthis. Then he got up, and going out, soon returned with an armful offerns, 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 sleptsoundly and well, and daylight was streaming into the cave when we werearoused. The convict had lightly touched me on the shoulder.
He was smiling, and looked now neither so haggard nor so terrible as onthe evening before.
"No warm breakfus," he said, smiling. "Soldiers have pass 'long dehighway. Think you they seek for de convict to put in preeson, or depirate boys to hang? Eh?"
We both trembled. But the keen air of the hill gave us an appetite andwe 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 badas we thought. They may not want to hang us. But they would disgraceand laugh at us, and I am a soldier's son. I will not go back. Wouldyou, Jill?"
"Assuredly not."
"Den what else you do?"
"Go to sea before the mast." The convict laughed again before hereplied--"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 delaw. 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 towork--"
"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 tostow away, but little goslings that we were, we fancied we had only tomake our way to a seaport and choose a ship, and that any captain wouldbe delighted to have us without asking any questions.
This convict was speaking sense, but he had already cast down our idolsand 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 goon a little longer in the flowery lane of our romance? Presently hespoke again.
"You have to me been a friend. Now to you I will be a friend. I willgo to your aunt."
"No, no, no."
"Stop, my friend. I will tell her what you do wish me to speak. Nodings more. Shall I go?"
"Tell her," I said, "that we are well and happy. No, tell her we arewretched. No, no. Jill, what shall we tell her?"
"Well," said Jill, with his old smile, "you can't say we're jolly. Justsay we won't come back. That we want to get a ship to go to mother."
"_No_, Jill, not like that, a ship to go to sea. They will not take
uswithout aunt's leave--then, we must get it."
"Ah!" cried the convict, "dat is sensibeel now. You speak like oneyoung man. I go to-night. You stay in de cave. Do not be seen. Iwill quickly return."
"But you will not bring Aunt Serapheema!"
I felt angry at the time for speaking thus, but I could not help it. Tohave been dragged back now would have broken both our hearts, of this Iam convinced.
"No," said the convict. "As I am a good Catholic--no."
This was enough for me. I took out once more my little writing-case,and feeling more happy and hopeful now, I wrote a long letter to auntie.It might have been but a repetition of the last, but it breathed evenmore emphatically than before
Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers Page 10