The Outlaws were nonplussed. They had meant to go to the old barn where they generally played, but they felt they could not go with – this. It would spoil the old barn for them for ever. And they couldn’t escape it.
Mr Falkner’s harsh, squeaky voice had a sort of hypnotising effect. It seemed to fill the whole world. It paralysed all their faculties. Once, in the middle of the discourse on the busy little ant, they caught each other’s eyes; into their dejected faces came a gleam of hope, and they set off running. But their self-appointed ‘friend’ ran too. Despite his stoutness, he could run.
‘A little run?’ he gasped. ‘Yes, certainly. Nothing like exercise – nothing like exercise. That will do now, I think, though.’
And so utterly were their spirits broken that they let that do. They slowed down.
‘A rest here, I think. Now I’ll give you a little practice in mental arithmetic. Let us see who can get the right answer.’
It was a nightmare of a morning for the Outlaws. They could not shake him off; they could not shut out the terrible sound of his voice. And there was his glassy eye. The ancient mariner was nothing to him.
He gave them a little lecture on History and another on Geography and another on Astronomy. He spoke to them at great length on Patriotism and Manliness and Industry and the British Empire.
‘Well,’ he said brightly, when he led them back to the Browns’ house at lunch-time, ‘I’m afraid I can’t come out with you this afternoon, but tomorrow morning Willy and I will be with you early.’
The Outlaws stared at each other blankly for a minute, then Douglas, Ginger and Henry turned on William.
‘Well,’ they said sternly, ‘you’ve given us a nice mornin’.’
‘Nothin’ to do with me,’ said William. ‘I din’ make him. I din’ want him. You’d think you’d be sorry for me. You’ve only had him a mornin’. He’s stayin’ with us.’
‘How long’s he stayin’?’
‘We don’t know,’ said William gloomily.
‘Well, we’ll wait for you tomorrow mornin’, but if we see him comin’ with you, we’ll jus’ run off alone.’
‘You’re cowards,’ said William bitterly. ‘Jus’ cowards. That’s what you are. Cowards!’
They parted moodily. William walked slowly up the drive, oppressed by the thought of tomorrow morning spent in the sole company of Mr Falkner.
In the morning-room Mr Falkner was talking to Mr Brown.
‘No, I never grudge the time I spend with children. They always enjoy it so tremendously. You should have seen them hanging on to my words this morning. I expect they’ll remember it all their lives. I shouldn’t wonder if it proved to be the turning point of their lives in a way. I opened up fresh fields of interest for them on all sides. I showed them how fascinating the pursuit of knowledge can be. I stimulated them. There was a distinct difference in their expressions even at the end of the morning. More soulful somehow. I always have that effect on children.’
The Outlaws spent the afternoon together – but it was not a happy one. The shadow of Mr Falkner lay heavy over it. In William’s mind was a nightmare vision of morning after morning spent alone with Mr Falkner. In the minds of Ginger, Douglas and Henry was a nightmare vision of morning after morning spent without William’s inspiring leadership and company.
When William returned home, Mr Falkner was still talking to his father. He was talking about a mounted leopard skin which lay across the back of the sofa.
‘Where was it shot?’ he said.
‘In Africa. By my brother,’ said Mr Brown shortly.
‘Quite easy things to shoot, leopards,’ bleated Mr Falkner. ‘Ridiculously easy, in fact.’
‘You shot many?’ said Mr Brown.
‘Oh, yes – I’ve never actually counted how many. In Africa, you know – fact is, leopards know a good shot when they see him. Now, no leopard would dream of attacking me. I simply raise my gun, the thing turns to flee and I get him on the run. Never failed. I don’t know what fear is. Simply don’t know the meaning of the word. Never have. And they know it. Turn and run from me at once. Always. Invariably. Big game shooting is like knocking down skittles to me—’
It was late that evening when William came into the room, and said excitedly:
‘The leopard’s escaped from the circus at Offord. Ginger just heard down in the village. They’re out trying to find him and shoot him. He’s a wild leopard.’
Mr Brown turned to his guest.
‘An opportunity for you, Falkner,’ he said.
Mr Falkner turned rather pale.
‘Ha! Ha!’ he laughed nervously.
Mr Brown looked almost as if he were enjoying himself.
‘You simply look at him, you know,’ he said, ‘and shoot him as he turns to flee.’
‘Ha! Ha!’ laughed Mr Falkner again mirthlessly.
‘They know a good shot when they see one, you know,’ went on Mr Brown, warming to his subject. ‘No leopard would dream of attacking you, you know.’
‘B-but I haven’t got a gun,’ said Mr Falkner with a ghastly grin.
‘Oh, I’ve got one,’ said Mr Brown. ‘Loaded, too. I’ll get it for you.’
Mr Falkner’s jaw fell open loosely.
‘I wouldn’t dream of putting you to all that trouble,’ he spluttered. ‘Don’t trouble. Pray, don’t trouble.’
‘No trouble at all,’ said Mr Brown with beaming politeness as he went from the room.
Mr Falkner sat down and mopped his brow, smiling inanely. The hope that his host would not be able to find the gun shone like a beacon from his face. William sat in a corner of the room and watched him.
WILLIAM CAME INTO THE ROOM AND SAID EXCITEDLY: ‘THE LEOPARD’S ESCAPED FROM THE CIRCUS AT OFFORD. HE’S A WILD LEOPARD.’
Mr Brown returned with the gun.
‘Here it is,’ he said, ‘quite ship-shape. Now, don’t let me detain you, my dear fellow. I’m sure a sportsman like you must be longing to join the fray.’
Mr Falkner took the gun gingerly. A pallid green had replaced the usual roseate hue of his round face.
‘B-but, suppose he comes here,’ he said with a sudden gleam of hope. ‘H-hadn’t I better stay and p-protect you?’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ said Mr Brown heartily. ‘We wouldn’t spoil your sport for anything. We’d much prefer to think of you out there shooting it as it turns to flee from you. Why, you know, you’ve shot more than you can count.’
He pushed the reluctant sportsman to the front door.
‘Good-bye, old chap – good luck!’
Then he returned to the dining-room. The slow and cautious footsteps of the big game hunter could be heard treading gingerly on the gravel outside, stopping every now and then to listen.
William had mysteriously disappeared.
‘Well, I’m going to bed,’ said Mr Brown. ‘I’ve stood him every night for three months, and tonight I’m going to have a holiday. I don’t care whether the leopard eats him or he eats the leopard. I’m going to bed.’
‘And what shall I do – read?’ said Mrs Brown.
‘Come to bed, too, if you’ve any sense. You can leave the front door unlocked. He’ll come back soon enough, you bet!’
Meanwhile the courageous hunter was creeping cautiously down the garden path. His idea was to creep round the garden several times, then return to the house with an account of his long and fearless but unsuccessful search for the leopard. But there was a cold sweat of fear upon his brow. Suppose the creature happened to be in the garden. Could, oh, could he get back in time? He kept one determined eye upon the front door as he prowled. He held the gun very cautiously. He hoped the beastly thing wouldn’t go off. Nasty dangerous things, guns.
As he crept cautiously about he was composing his account of his adventure. ‘I should think I traversed the whole village trying to come upon the creature without warning – before it could have time to escape. It’s a most bitter disappointment to a sportsman like me to miss su
ch an opportunity. The brute must have felt my coming and slunk off.’
Suddenly he was startled by a sound in the bushes behind him. The sound was between him and the house.
With a scream of terror he dashed away – down to the end of the little path.
At the end of the path was a summer-house and on to this the intrepid game hunter, who knew not the meaning of the word ‘fear’, clambered, panting and moaning and displaying in his ascent singular determination and lack of grace. He clung on with his hands while his legs dangled in the air. He tried to hoist himself up.
His legs waved wildly in the air. The little sound in the bushes was repeated.
With a quivering little scream, the leopard hunter hurled himself on to the roof of the summer-house. He sat down and began to rub his bruises. He had barked his shins. He had aroused echoes in his funny bones. He thought he had sprained both ankles, but he wasn’t quite sure.
He had certainly got the skin off his knees. He examined them tenderly. He was rather surprised to find that he still had the gun. He had thrown it up to the roof before he began his climbing exploit. He gazed down through the darkness into the bushes.
‘Go away, you brute,’ he said sternly. ‘Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!’
It didn’t ‘Shoo!’ On the contrary, there came the sound of some stealthy creature creeping through the bushes. Twigs cracked. He could see the bushes move as the Thing approached.
‘I told you to go away,’ he squeaked hysterically from his roof. ‘Go away! GO AWAY!’ He flung out his arms in a gesture of dismissal, ‘Sh!’
The Thing came on.
Perhaps it might be a cat or a dog, thought the hunter, and at the thought hope sprang afresh in his heart.
‘Puss! Puss! Puss!’ he said through the darkness.
There was no response.
‘Good dog!’ he panted. ‘Rats! Cats! Fetch ’em out! Come for a walk! On trust! Where’s that bone? Good dog, then! Good dog!’
There was no response.
Something fairly large, not a cat or a dog, banged against the summer-house. Could it be a donkey or a sheep or a cow? Oh, couldn’t it be a donkey or a sheep or a cow? He peered anxiously over the edge of the roof.
‘Hee-haw!’ he greeted the unknown with eager propitiation in his voice. ‘Ba-a-a-a! Moo-oo-oo!’
For answer there came through the darkness a low growl. It certainly wasn’t a cat or a dog or a donkey or a cow. It was certainly a leopard. He’d never heard a leopard’s voice before (for the matter of that he had never seen a leopard before), but there was no doubt that this was a leopard’s voice. Through the darkness came the sound of teeth chattering. They weren’t the leopard’s. Then the man on the summer-house began to think out plans. He leant over the edge and gave a ferocious growl. The growl that answered his through the darkness made his blood curdle.
‘Oh-h-h-h-h!’ he moaned. ‘Oh-h-h! My holy aunt!’
The Thing was prowling round and round the summer-house. Mr Falkner saw himself suddenly as he might be in the morning light – a mass of whitened bones – or did the creatures eat you bones and all? The tears rolled down his fat cheeks at the thought.
Soon he realised that all was silent. Perhaps the creature had gone away again. He waited for what seemed hours. Still silence. Surely now he might creep back to the house. He lowered one foot cautiously from the roof. Then he gave a yell. Something had grabbed at it in the darkness. He wrenched it free and cowered on his roof rubbing it.
‘Oh-h-h-h-h!’ he moaned. ‘Oh-h-h-h! My holy aunt!’
The agony of that night will live for ever in the memory of the leopard hunter. Most terrible was the moment when the leopard tried to clamber up the summer-house.
Sometimes there was silence for so long that the weary watchman almost fell asleep (he had given up all thoughts of escape), but no sooner did he doze than the creature below would arouse him by growls and bumps or threatening sniffs.
Mr Falkner was cold and miserable. Every bone in his body ached. And the creature would not let him rest. It growled on one side of his roof and drove him to the other. Then it growled on the other side and drove him back again. Many times did his moaning ‘Oh-h-h-h-h-h!’ fall upon the midnight air.
Mr Falkner had had no idea before that a night was so long. It was an eternity. He dared not strike a match to look at his watch in case the creature should spring. But he was sure that it was longer than any other night had ever been. It was a phenomenon. It was like a month of nights. But at last the first faint rays of dawn appeared. They grew less faint. Mr Falkner’s pallid, anxious, dishevelled countenance peered over the edge of his roof. He could hear no sound.
Then he saw it – saw it unmistakably – a leopard’s head among the bushes. With a sudden spasm of desperate courage he took his gun, shut his eyes and fired. And he hit it. By a miracle he hit it. He saw it roll over among the bushes. Then all was still. He waited. After about half an hour he descended cautiously from his perch. He dared not approach his ‘bag’. He had heard terrible stories of the ferocity of wild animals in their death throes.
THEN MR FALKNER SAW, UNMISTAKABLY, A LEOPARD’S HEAD AMONG THE BUSHES. HE TOOK HIS GUN.
He tiptoed slowly and furtively to the front door.
They all met at breakfast. Both Mr Falkner and William looked as though they had spent sleepless nights. But Mr Falkner, though pale, was his usual debonair self.
‘Any luck?’ said Mr Brown.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Falkner carelessly, ‘I got the brute. Found him in your garden, too. Came upon him face to face in the path. He gathered to spring. I just stood and looked at him. Simply looked. He turned and began to slink away. Then I raised me rifle and fired – just as I told you. Perfectly simple with a sportsman of my calibre. Lucky it was I who met him. You’ll find the body somewhere in the garden.’
They all trooped out. It might have been noticed that the leopard hunter kept modestly in the rear.
‘Just over there by those bushes, I believe,’ he said airily.
Mr Brown strode into the bushes and pulled out – the leopard skin rug. There was certainly a new bullet hole in its head. The gallant sportsman began to splutter inarticulately.
‘What?’ began Mr Brown.
William, wearing his most sphinx-like expression, stepped forward.
‘I thought it smelt a bit kind of stuffy, an’ so I brought it out here las’ night to be in the fresh air a bit, like what it is in spring cleanin’s an’ that.’
The gallant sportsman was still gibbering.
‘B-but I heard it – I—’
William turned his inscrutable countenance to him.
‘I’ ’fraid p’raps it was me you heard,’ he said. ‘I can’t sleep, so I got up an’ jus’ played about the garden a bit – jus’ to make me sleep better – fresh air an’ exercise like what they say makes you sleep – I was playin’ mos’ly round the summer-house—’
Mr Falkner looked sharply at William, but William’s face was a blank.
‘Er – excuse me a minute,’ murmured Mr Falkner, and quietly went indoors.
The gardener came past.
‘Did you hear anything about a leopard escaping from the circus at Offord?’ said Mr Brown to him.
‘There ain’t no circus at Offord,’ replied the gardener gloomily as he passed on. ‘There ain’t no circus anywheres round here.’
Mr Brown turned to William.
‘Who told you about this leopard?’ he said sternly.
‘Ginger,’ said William unblinkingly.
‘Who told him?’
‘He’s not quite sure,’ said William, in the voice of one repeating a lesson. ‘He’s forgot. He thinks p’raps it was someone in the village.’
‘Well, you’d better go and tell Mr Falkner that you’re sorry you made a mistake.’
William went slowly indoors. But Mr Falkner had gone. He had found a train just going up to Town, and he had accompanied it. He had left a note to say that he had been called
suddenly to Town and would they kindly send his things after him.
‘Dear me! What a pity!’ said Mr Brown, looking as if he had suddenly discovered the elixir of perpetual youth. ‘You can’t apologise after all, William. Well, never mind.’ He slipped a half-crown into William’s hand and went off, his face wreathed in smiles.
It was two hours later. The Outlaws sat on the floor in their beloved old barn. In the midst of them were large paper bags of bullseyes, liquorice lumps, barley sugar and chocolate cigars. The half-crown had been well expended. The Outlaws were munching happily.
‘What sort’ve a noise did you make?’ Ginger was saying as he puffed out imaginary smoke from his chocolate cigar.
William emitted a blood-curdling growl.
‘An’ what did he say?’
‘Oh-h-h-h-h-h! Oh-h-h-h! My holy aunt!’
It was an excellent imitation of the leopard hunter’s quavering moan.
‘An’ what did he do?’
William rose.
‘You come round to our summer-house an’ I’ll show you. Ginger be me growlin’ an’ I’ll be him carryin’ on. Come along.’
They collected the bags and strode off happily with their leader.
CHAPTER 4
WILLIAM LEADS A BETTER LIFE
IF you go far enough back it was Mr Strong, William’s form master, who was responsible for the whole thing. Mr Strong set, for homework, more French than it was convenient for William to learn. It happened that someone had presented William with an electric motor, and the things one can do with an electric motor are endless.
William The Conqueror Page 4