Part 1 (1/2)
Quicksilver.
by George Manville Fenn.
CHAPTER ONE.
A VERY STRANGE PAIR.
He was very grubby, and all about his dark grey eyes there were the marks made by his dirty fingers where he had rubbed away the tickling tears. The brownish red dust of the Devon lanes had darkened his delicate white skin, and matted his s.h.i.+ny yellow curls.
As to his hands, with their fat little fingers, with every joint showing a pretty dimple, they looked white and clean, but that was due to the fact that he was sitting in a bed of moss by the roadside, where the water came trickling down from the red rocks above, and dabbling and splas.h.i.+ng the tiny pool, till the pearly drops hung among his dusty curls, and dotted, as if with jewels, the ragged old blue jersey s.h.i.+rt which seemed to form his only garment.
This did not fit him, in spite of its elasticity, for it was what a dealer would have called ”man's size,” and the wearer was about two and a half, or at the most three; but the sleeves had been cut so that they only reached his elbows, and the hem torn off the bottom and turned into a belt or sash, which was tied tightly round the little fellow's waist, to keep the jersey from slipping off.
Consequently the plump neck was bare, as were his dirty little legs, with their dimpled, chubby knees.
While he splashed and dabbled the water, the sun flashed upon the drops, some of which jewelled the spreading ferns which drooped over the natural fount, and even reached as high as the delicate leaf.a.ge of stunted overhanging birch, some of whose twigs kept waving in the soft summer breeze, and sweeping against the boy's curly hair.
When the little fellow splashed the water, and felt it fly into his face, he laughed--burst after burst of silvery, merry laughter; and in the height of his enjoyment he threw back his head, his ruddy lips parted, and two rows of pearly teeth flashed in the bright suns.h.i.+ne.
As dirty a little grub as ever made mud-pies in a gutter; but the water, the ferns, moss, and flowers around were to his little soul the most delightful of toys, and he seemed supremely happy.
After a time he grew tired of splas.h.i.+ng the water, and, drawing one little foot into his lap, he pursed up his lips, an intent frown wrinkled his s.h.i.+ning forehead, and he began, in the most serio-comic manner, to pick the row of tiny toes, pa.s.sing a chubby finger between them to get rid of the dust and grit.
All this while the breeze blew, the birch-tree waved, and the flowers nodded, while from out of a clump of ling and rushes there came, at regular intervals, a low roar like the growl of a wild beast.
After a few minutes there was the _pad, pad_--_pad, pad_ of a horse's hoofs on the dusty road; the rattle of wheels; and a green gig, drawn by a sleepy-looking grey horse, and containing a fat man and a broad woman, came into sight, approached slowly, and would have pa.s.sed had not the broad woman suddenly laid her hand upon the reins, and checked the grey horse, when the two red-faced farming people opened their mouths, and stared at the child.
”Sakes alive, Izick, look at that!” said the woman in a whisper, while the little fellow went on picking his toes, and the grey horse turned his tail into a live chowry to keep away the flies.
”Well, I am!” said the fat man, wrinkling his face all over as he indulged in a silent laugh. ”Why, moother, he's a perf.e.c.k picter.”
”The pretty, pretty little fellow,” said the woman in a genuine motherly tone. ”O Izick, how I should like to give him a good was.h.!.+”
”Was.h.!.+ He's happy enough, bless him!” said the man. ”Wonder whose he be. Here, what are you going to do?”
”I'm going to give un a kiss, that's what I'm a-going to do,” said the woman getting very slowly out of the gig. ”He must be a lost child.”
”Well,” grumbled the man, ”we didn't come to market to find lost children.”
Then he sat forward, with his arms resting upon his knees, watching his wife as she slowly approached the unconscious child, till she was in the act of stooping over him to lay her fat red hand upon his golden curls, when there was a loud roar as if from some savage beast, and the woman jumped back scared; the horse leaped sidewise; the farmer raised his whip; and the pair of simple-hearted country folks stared at a fierce-looking face which rose out of the bed of ling, its owner having been sleeping face downward, and now glowering at them above his folded arms.
It was not a pleasant countenance, for it was foul without with dirt and more foul within from disease, being covered with ruddy fiery blotch and pimple, and the eyes were of that unnatural hue worn by one who has for years been debased by drink.
”Yah!” roared the man, half-closing his bleared eyes. ”Leave the bairn alone.”
”O Izick!” gasped the woman.
”Here, none o' that!” cried the farmer fiercely. ”Don't you frighten my wife.”