Part 20 (2/2)

Splas.h.i.+ng about, presently the plank forgotten for the moment slipped away, and, impelled by the waves they made, floated into deep water.

”I'm sure I could swim to it,” said Bevis, and he was inclined to try.

”We promised not,” said Mark.

”You stupe--I know that; but if there's a plank, that's not dangerous then.”

”Stupe” was their word for stupid. He waded out till the water was over his shoulders, and tried to lift him.

”Don't--don't,” said Mark. Bevis began to lean his chest on the water.

”If you're captain,” cried Mark, ”you ought not to.”

”No more I ought,” said Bevis, coming back. ”Get my bow.”

”What for?”

”Go and get my bow.”

”I shan't, if you say it like that.”

”You shall. Am I not captain?”

Mark was caught by his own argument, and went out on the sward for the bow.

”Tie the arrow on with the string,” shouted Bevis. Mark did it, and brought it in, keeping it above the surface. Bevis climbed on the railings, half out of water, so that he could steady himself with his knees against the rail.

”Now, give me the bow,” he said. He took good aim, and the nail, filed to a sharp point, was driven deep into the soft deal of the plank. With the string he hauled the catamaran gently back, but it would not come straight; it slipped sideways (like the boomerang in the air), and came ash.o.r.e under the aspen bough.

When they came out they bathed again in the air and the suns.h.i.+ne; they rolled on the sward, and ran. Bevis, as he ran and shouted, shot off an arrow with all his might to see how far it would go. It went up, up, and curving over, struck a bough at the top of one of the elms, and stopped there by the rooks' nests. Mark shouted and danced on the bird's-foot lotus, and darted his spear, heedless of the bone-head. It went up into the hazel boughs of the hedge among the young nuts, and he could not get it till dressed, for the thistles.

They ran again and chased each other in and out the sycamore trunks, and visited the hollow, shouting their loudest, till the distant herd looked up from their grazing. The sunlight poured upon them, and the light air came along; they bathed in air and sunbeam, and gathered years of health like flowers from the field.

After they had dressed they took the catamaran to the quarry to leave it there (somewhat out of sight lest any one should take it for firewood), so as to save the labour of carrying it to and fro. There was a savage of another tribe in the quarry, and they crept on all fours, taking great pains that he should not see them. It was the old man who was supposed to look after the boats, and generally to watch the water. Had they not been so occupied they would have heard the thump, thump of the sculls as he rowed, or rather moved the punt up to where the narrow mound separated the New, Sea from the quarry.

He was at work scooping out some sand, and filling sacks with the best, with which cargo he would presently voyage home, and retail it to the dairymaids and at the roadside inns to eke out that spirit of juniper-berries needful to those who have dwelt long by marshy places.

They need not have troubled to conceal themselves from this stranger savage; he would not have seen them if they had stood close by him. A narrow life narrows the sweep of the eye. Miserable being, he could see no farther than one of the mussels of the lake which travel in a groove.

His groove led to the sanded inn-kitchen, and his sh.e.l.l was shut to all else. But they crept like skirmishers, dragging the catamaran laboriously behind them, using every undulation of the ground to hide themselves, till they had got it into the hollow, where they left it beside a heap of stones. Then they had to crawl out again, and for thirty yards along the turf, till they could stand up unseen.

”Let's get the poison,” said Mark, as they were going home.

So they searched for the poison-plants. The woody nightshade they knew very well, having been warned long ago against the berries. It was now only in flower, and it would be some time before there were any berries; but after thinking it over they decided to gather a bundle of stalks, and soak them for the deadly juice. There were stems of arum in the ditches, tipped with green berries. These they thought would do, but shrank from touching. The green looked unpleasant and slimy.

Next they hunted for mandragora, of which John Young had given them an account. It grew in waste places, and by the tombs in the churchyard, and shrieked while you pulled it up. This they could not find. Mark said perhaps it wanted an enchanter to discover it, but he gathered a quant.i.ty of the dark green milfoil from the gra.s.s beside the hedge and paths, and crammed his pockets with it. Some of the lads had told him that it was a deadly poison. It is the reverse--thus reputation varies--for it was used to cure mediaeval sword-cuts. They pa.s.sed the water-parsnip, unaware of its pernicious qualities, looking for noisome hemlock.

”There's another kind of nightshade,” said Bevis; ”because I read about it in that old book indoors, and it's much stronger than this. We must have some of it.”

They looked a long time, but could not find it; and, full of their direful object, did not heed sounds of laughter on the other side of the hedge they were searching, till they got through a gap and jumped into the midst of a group of haymakers resting for lunch. The old men had got a little way apart by themselves, for they wanted to eat like Pan.

All the women were together in a ”gaggle,” a semicircle of them sitting round a young girl who lounged on a heap of mown gra.s.s, with a huge labourer lying full length at her feet. She had a piece of honey suckle in her hand, and he had a black wooden ”bottle” near him.

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