Part 97 (2/2)

”Go in,” shouted Bevis to the spaniel angrily. Pan crouched, but would not go. Mark kicked him, but he would not move.

”Hold it,” said Bevis, handing the matchlock to Mark. He seized the spaniel by his s.h.a.ggy neck, lifted and hurled him by main force a few yards crash among the sedges. Pan came out in an instant.

”Go in, I tell you!” shouted Bevis, beside himself with anger; the spaniel s.h.i.+vered at his feet. Again Bevis lifted him, swung him, and hurled him as far this time as the reed-gra.s.s. The next instant Pan was at his feet again. Encouragement, persuasion, threats, blows, all failed; it was like trying to make him climb a tree. The dog could not force his nature. Mark threw dead sticks into the reed-gra.s.s; Bevis flung some stones.

”You hateful wretch!” Bevis stamped his foot. ”Get away.” Pan ran back. ”Give me the gun--I'll go in.”

If the dog would not, he would hunt the creature from its lair himself.

”O! stop!” said Mark, catching hold of his arm, ”don't--don't go in--you don't know!”

”Let me go.”

”I won't.”

”I will go.”

They struggled with each other.

”Shoot first,” said Mark, finding he could not hold him. ”Shoot an arrow--two arrows. Here--here's the bow.”

Bevis seized the bow and fitted the arrow.

”Shoot where the path is,” said Mark. ”There--it's there,”--pointing.

Bevis raised the bow. ”Now shoot!”

”O!” cried a voice in the reeds, ”don't shoot!”

Bevis instantly lowered the bow.

”What?” he said.

”Who's there?” said Mark.

”It's me--don't shoot me!”

”Who are you?”

”Me.”

They rushed in and found Loo crouching behind the alder in the reed-gra.s.s; in her hand was a thick stick which she dropped.

”How dare you!” said Bevis.

”How did you get here?” said Mark. ”Don't you be angry!” said Loo.

”But how dare you!”

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