Burr Junior

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

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

  "And a good job too."

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

  "Oh, couldn't you?" said Mercer. "I could, and I would too, if he spoketo 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, whohad grown pretty big lads by that time, and had come to be looked up toby the others as captains of the cricket eleven and of the football,were standing at the window looking out over the woods talking, andwatching the flickering of the lightning in the far east. We had allcome up to our dormitories, but, instead of going at once to bed, we twowere talking in a low voice about what a dark, soft night it was, whenall at once there was a flash that was not lightning, apparently a shortdistance 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 beforethere 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 wascertain that it was in Sir Hawkhurst's best preserve, where I had seenBob Hopley feeding the beautiful birds only a week before, and Mercerhad come away with me feeling miserable because he could not have one tostuff.

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

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

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

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

  "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 usgo."

  "He wouldn't," I cried impatiently.

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

  We opened our door softly, stole down, and reached the schoolroomunseen, after listening at the masters' sitting-room door, and hearingthem chatting together. One of the windows was open to ventilate theplace after its crowded state all the evening, for, in thatout-of-the-way part of the country, there was no fear felt ofhousebreakers, and, stepping up on the desk, I thrust out my legs, anddropped lightly into the playground, to be followed by Mercer, who wasbreathing 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 theshrubs, 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 agamekeeper."

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

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

  "Hallo! where are you young gents going?"

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

  "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, andthought I'd run down and ask Bob Hopley if he wanted any help. Lookhere!"

  He held up a big oaken stick, and, thoroughly in accord, we all startedoff at a trot, and in a very short time were in the lane where BobHopley'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'sa 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 LongSpinney, 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 soquickly and quietly, that we were soon alongside a black plantation ofScotch fir-trees, in time to hear two more shots, and the heavy thuds offalling bodies.

  "Now, are you ready?" whispered Lomax.

  "Yes," we said, but at that moment a figure darted by us, and enteredthe 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 dullsound as of a stick striking a gun-barrel, then a crashing of the lowerbranches, cries, blows, and a loud voice calling to the poachers to givein.

  "Why, it's father got back," cried Polly Hopley. "Oh, Mr Lomax, go andhelp, 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 thedirection 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 wildshriek.

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

  We pressed on. It was impossible to run in the darkness, and as wehurried 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 aheavy, dull blow.

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

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

  She turned and ran back, while we kept on, and reached an opening in thewood, where we made out, dimly, two tall figures, and my blood turnedcold 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'tknocked up the barrel with his stick and then downed the man."

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

  "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 rockinghimself 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 Icome on with this stick. You see I've no gun, and you, too, younggents?"

  "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 theleft. 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 withsticks 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 stoppedat 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 theyweren'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 ofthe horn lantern among the trees, and as it came nearer, Bob Hopleysaid,--

  "Hadn't you young gents better get back to bed? this here aren't noplace 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 tookthe 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. "Willyou stay or go? It's ugly."

  "Stay, father."

  "Right, my lass. Now, Mr Lomax, what about this chap you downed," hecontinued, holding the lantern so that the light fell upon the kneelingman, whose forehead was bleeding freely. "You give it him and nomistake," he chuckled. "Here, tie this hankychy round your head, anddon't bellow there like a great calf. Master Burr junior, pick up andtake 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 addedgrimly, "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 seeas he don't get away?"

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

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

  "Oh, take care, father!" cried Polly. "Let me go first--he wouldn'tshoot a woman."

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

  He strode forward with the lantern for a few yards, and then held itdown over the spot from which a low groaning had come, but which hadceased 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 lanternand the shadowy aspect of the trees around, with the light faintlygleaming on their trunks, fascinated us so that we followed Hopley withhis 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, andHopley 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'sbusiness, and I don't want to get credit for what I never did. So justlook."

  He held the lantern down for us to see.

  "He's got one o' them poaching guns, you see, with a short barrel asunscrews in the middle, and he must ha' been taking it to pieces when itwas 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 acry. "Magglin it is!" he said, as the man opened his eyes, and gazedwildly 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 hisarm, above the elbow;" and, hurriedly taking a piece of cord from hisjacket pocket, Hopley made a rough tourniquet, and stopped the bleedingas much as he could.

  "You, Polly," he said as he worked, "go down to the house and see SirOrkus. Tell him all about it, and ask him to send help, and some oneoff 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, "Ican'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, didI?"

  "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 headfell back.

  "Never with two arms, my lad," said the keeper. "Poor fellow! myfezzans 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 topshelf--flask with a cup on it. Bring it, please. It's brandy: drop'llbring him round."

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

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

  "I say, young gents," said Lomax suddenly, "it'll all come out aboutyour 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 wasa long time before excitement would let us sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

  It required some strength of mind to go straight to the Doctor's studynext morning, tell him the whole truth, and ask for his forgiveness.But we did it, and though he looked very serious, and pointed out ourwrong-doing strongly, he forgave us, and became deeply interested in theaffair, making us relate all we had seen.

  "I heard of the encounter as soon as I came down," he said. "Lomaxought to have sent you both back to your room. So it was that labourer.Poor fellow! I gave him a fresh chance twice over, but I'm afraid heis a ne'er-do-weel. However, he is severely punished now."

  The man Lomax knocked down went before the magistrates, and was packedoff to prison, but Magglin had to go up to London, to one of the greathospitals, and some months after, the chief magistrate in our district,that is to say, General Sir Hawkhurst Rye, had him up before him in hislibrary, and punished him.

  Bob Hopley told me all about it, just after he had announced, with agood many grins and winks, that Polly was--"Going to be married tomaster's favourite groom, and they're to live at Number 2 lodge."

  "And how did he punish him, Bob?" Mercer said eagerly.

  "Punished him, sir? why, he's took him on as a watcher under me. Sayspoachers make the best keepers; but, o' course, he can't never be akeeper, with only one arm."

  "Ah," I said t
houghtfully, "you said he would lose his arm."

  "Yes, sir, and they took it off pretty close. But there, I think he'llmend now."

  My story, (or rather my random notes), of my old school-days is prettywell ended now, though I could rake out a good deal more from the darkcorners of my memory. For, after that adventure in the wood, the timesoon seemed to come when Tom Mercer had to leave, to begin his course oftraining for a surgeon, while I was bound for Woolwich, to become acadet.

  It was a sad day for me when I first went to "Old Browne's," but it wasa sadder day when I left, for I felt very sore at heart, and it requiredall my strength of mind to keep up a brave show.

  For every one was very kind, and it was like parting from old friendswhom I might never see again. The boys were all out in the front drive,where the General's carriage stood waiting to take me and my mother tomeet the London mail coach, and the two gentlemen were with us. For mymother and my uncle had come down to fetch me, and say a few kind wordsto the Doctor and Mrs Doctor, as well as to visit Sir Hawkhurst. I sawLomax too, and Mr Rebble and Mr Hasnip, at the door, and it seemed asif there was always some one fresh to shake hands with, the old sergeantshaking mine with both his, and his voice sounded very husky as hesaid,--

  "You won't forget your drill, sir, nor your balance in the saddle; heelswell down, and ride your horse on the curb, mind--don't forget, and--and--"

  The old fellow could get no further. The tears started to his eyes, andto hide his emotion, and to save me from breaking down, he drew himselfup stiffly and saluted me.

  Lastly, I found that the servants were all outside too, waiting to saygood-bye, and I couldn't go without stepping aside to shake hands withCook, who uttered a loud sob, snatched me to her, and gave me a soundingkiss.

  Then I was back on the steps saying my farewells to the Doctor and hiswife, and I felt that I had bade every one now good-bye but Tom Mercer,who was to leave the following day, but, to my intense disappointment,he was missing; and, time pressing, I was at last obliged to climb intothe britzska, where my mother, my uncle, and the General were alreadyseated, the word was given, the coachman touched his horses as soon asthe groom had climbed to his side, and the boys nearly frightened theminto a headlong gallop, as they burst out into a volley of cheers,mingled with, "Good-bye, Burr junior! Good luck to you, soldier!" andamidst the waving of caps from the lads, and handkerchiefs from thedoor, I stood up in the carriage and roared excitedly,--

  "Where's old Senna?"

  I faintly heard the words, "Don't know," and I stood looking aboutwildly, full of bitter disappointment at leaving without seeing him.

  I was standing up at the back, where my mother had the other seat, thetwo old officers being before us, but there was no Tom Mercer, and I wasabout to sit down, feeling that the poor fellow could not face thefarewell, when, at the turn of the road, there on the bank stood PollyHopley, with a parcel in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other,and beside her, Bob Hopley in his brown velveteens, his gun under hisleft arm and his hat in his hand.

  As we trotted by, the parcel and bouquet fell into the carriage, and Iwaved my hand back to them till we were out of sight, when I found thatmy mother was holding the flowers, which had her name on a label likethat used with a doctor's bottle, while the parcel was directed to me.

  I couldn't help my face working as I looked from one to the other.

  "Cheer up, my lad," cried the General, as my mother pressed my hand, forI had sunk down beside her on the seat.

  "Of course he will," cried my uncle; "soldiers cheer up directly. Isay, Frank, the Doctor gave you a splendid character, but it wasn'twanted. Your popularity staggers me."

  "But I haven't seen poor old Senna," I cried.

  "Seen whom?" said my uncle, laughing.

  "Poor old Tom Mercer," I cried, when a hand from the back knocked my capover my eyes, and a familiar voice shouted,--

  "'Bye, Frankie. Hooray! 'ray! 'ray! 'ray!"

  There was Tom Mercer's face looking at us over the hood at the back, forhe had darted out from the hedge as the carriage passed the corner halfa mile from the school, climbed up behind, and was holding on with onehand as he clutched at me with the other.

  Then quickly--nay, more quickly than it has taken me to tell it--he letgo and dropped down into the road, where I could see him standing wavinghis cap till a curve hid him from sight; and I once more sank into myplace too low-spirited to think, for my happy school-days were at anend, and there before me in the dim distance, toward which I was beinghurried fast as two good mares could trot, was the great gateway of afresh life, through which lay the road to be followed in my progress tobecome a soldier and a man.

  THE END.