Part 21 (1/2)

”Oh-h-h-h! Pa-a-a-a,” said Philip.

And ”Oh-h-h! Uncle,” remonstrated Fred.

But Mr Inglis was inexorable, for the afternoon was pa.s.sing away, and the evening closing in; so the spoils were collected and placed in the basket, when it was found that Fred's eel had disappeared, having crawled out, and, no doubt, wriggled through the gra.s.s into the lake again. However, there was a very fair basket of fish to take home; and, when all the tackle had been packed up, and they returned to the yard and placed the things in the dog-cart, the horse was put to, and, freshened with his long rest, he made the wheels spin merrily round, and the dust fly back in a cloud from his heels, as he trotted homeward as fast as he could, well knowing that there was a snug, clean stable waiting for him, and plenty of fresh hay and sweet corn to enjoy after his long journey.

The sport of the day formed a never-tiring theme for conversation during the ride home; every finny captive being exalted into almost the importance of a whale. The only person at all dissatisfied with the day's proceedings was Harry, who rather felt that his want of success was owing to the lack of perseverance. However, he made vows of future attention to everything he attempted, and was drawing a very brightly-coloured plan for the future, when home was reached, and Mrs Inglis seen waiting in the porch to view the fruits of their day's angling.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

OLD SAM'S TROUBLES.--A SAD STORY.

”Now, I don't care whether you gets punished or not; but I means to tell master, for you all oughter know better, and it ain't right.”

”But I tell you we didn't do it, Sam,” said Harry.

”Ah! don't tell me; I knows you did. There's footmarks all along from the gap, right across the potato piece, and everybody else will begin to go the same way, and make a regular path of it.”

”But we didn't go that way,” chorussed the boys.

”Why, what an old stupid it is,” said Philip; ”he won't believe anything.”

Sam's trouble was a trampled track across a newly-enclosed piece of ground, which Mr Inglis had lately purchased near the village, and Sam had planted with potatoes for home consumption. It certainly was annoying, for a ditch had been cut round it, a bank made, and, on the top, a neat little hedge of hawthorn planted; but some idle people were in the habit of jumping across the ditch, trampling down the little hedge, and then making a track right across the corner of the field to the other side, where, in getting out, they trampled the hedge and bank down again, and all just to save themselves a walk of about fifty yards round, where there was a good path. But so it was: the property had lain in dispute for many years, during which time people had cut off the corner, and made themselves a track; and now that it was purchased, and had become private property, it seemed that there were some two or three obstinate, unpleasant people, who would not alter their plans, but took delight in the paltry piece of mischief of destroying what had been so carefully put in order. But Sam had always one complaint string upon which he fiddled or harped; and so sure as anything like mischief was done anywhere, he always declared it was ”them boys,” who were ”always up to suthin, drat 'em.” It was so when the walnuts were stolen, and the tree, broken about. Sam was sure it was ”them boys,” and he went and told his master of Harry and Philip's ”capers,” as he called them.

But Sam was wrong then, as upon many other occasions, and also upon this one, for a sad story hangs to that affair about the walnuts; and I do not think it will be out of place if I go back about a year and nine months, and leave the trampled path for the present, while I take up another.

Mr Inglis had standing in one of his fields, about fifty yards from the lane which led down to the mill, a very fine walnut-tree. The tree was not only fine in size, but n.o.ble in appearance, and the walnuts that it bore were of the largest and sweetest grown anywhere for miles round, and Mr Inglis rather prized these nuts, for they kept well, and might be seen upon his dessert-table long after Christmas time.

Now, it so happened that just as the nuts were getting ripe, and the first ones began to fall, breaking their green husk when they touched the ground, and setting the clean pale-brown sh.e.l.l at liberty,--it was just at this time that Sam found out that some one had been up the tree picking the walnuts, for not only were a great number missing, but the ground beneath was strewed with leaves, broken twigs, and walnut husks, with here and there a brown-sh.e.l.led nut which the plunderer had looked over in his hurry.

No sooner did Sam see the mischief than he hurried off to the house, and bursting breathlessly into the breakfast-room, announced that Masters Harry and Philip had been taking all the walnuts.

Mr Inglis frowned, and told Sam, rather sharply, to knock before entering another time, and then turned to his sons, and asked them if what Sam said was true.

”No, Papa,” they both exclaimed indignantly, ”we have not touched them.”

”Only,” said Harry, recollecting himself, ”I did throw a stone in the tree yesterday, as we went down the lane, but it didn't knock any down, and I should not have thrown only Phil said I couldn't throw so far.”

”Ah! but I'm sure it was them,” said Sam.

”Hus.h.!.+ Sam,” said Mr Inglis; ”and now leave the room. I'll investigate the affair after breakfast.”

Sam left the room anything but pleased, for he thought that he ought to have been praised for his energy, and so he told Cook in the kitchen when he went through, and then stopped and told her all about it; when Cook declared it was a shame, and gave Sam a cup of tea to mollify him, for Cook and Mary were just having breakfast. As soon as Sam had closed the door, Mr Inglis turned to his sons, and asked them if they knew anything about the tree, or who was likely to have taken the walnuts; for in this quiet district an act of theft was of such rare occurrence, that it caused great excitement; besides which, Mr Inglis was deservedly so well respected by the poor people round, that, sooner than touch anything belonging to him, they would have formed themselves into special constables to protect his property.

But neither Harry nor Philip could give the slightest information, so the breakfast was finished, and, in the course of the day, Mr Inglis had his suspicions directed towards the scapegrace son of an old woman in the village. This young man had been employed in the neighbouring town, but for a most flagrant act had been tried, and sentenced to five years' penal servitude. He was at this time at home upon what is called a ”ticket of leave;” that is, he had a portion of his sentence remitted for good conduct in prison, and he was now in the village. But Mr Inglis was averse to proceed upon suspicion; in fact, he was averse to punis.h.i.+ng the culprit at all, even if he brought the theft home to him; and therefore he took no steps in the matter.

Two nights after, a quant.i.ty of the walnuts were again stolen; and on Mr Inglis being informed of this new attack upon his crop, he told Sam that he would have them all thrashed on the following day, and place them under lock and key.

”Hum!” said Sam to himself; ”and then they'll have a go at the apples.

I knows it's them youngsters. Now, then,” he said, for Harry and Philip just came up in the midst of the old man's soliloquy, ”now, then, where's all them nuts?”