Part 18 (2/2)

Harold looked anxiously up and down the road for Paul, and asked Mr.

Cope's housekeeper whether he had been there to take leave. No; and indeed Harold would have been a little vexed if he had wished good-bye anywhere if not at home.

There was a fine white frost, and the rime hung thickly on every spray of the heavy branches of the dark firs and larches that overhung the long solitary lane between the Grange and Ragglesford, and fringed the park palings with crystals. Harold thought how cold poor Paul must be going on his way in his ragged clothes. The ice crackled under the pony's feet as she trotted down Ragglesford Lane, and the water of the ford looked so cold, that Peggy, a very wise animal, turned her head towards the foot- bridge, a narrow and not very sound affair, over which Harold had sometimes taken her when the stream was high, and threatened to be over his feet.

Harold made no objection; but no sooner were all the pony's four hoofs well upon the bridge, than at the other end appeared d.i.c.k Royston.

'Hollo, Har'ld!' was his greeting, 'I've got somewhat to say to ye.'

'D'ye know where Paul Blackthorn is?' asked Harold.

'Not I--I'm a traveller myself, you must know.'

'You, going to cut?' cried Harold.

'Ay,' said d.i.c.k, laying hold of the pony's rein. 'The police have been down at Rolt's--stupid fellow left old gander's feet about--Mrs. Barker swore to 'em 'cause he'd had so many kicks and bites on common--Jesse's took up and peached--I've been hiding about all night--precious cold it was, and just waiting, you see, to wish you good-bye.'

Harold, very much shocked, could have dispensed with his farewells, nor did he like the look of his eyes.

'Thank you, d.i.c.k; I'm sorry--I didn't think--but I'm after time--I wish you'd let go of Peggy.'

'So that's all you have to say to an old comrade!' said d.i.c.k; 'but, I say, Har'ld, I'm not going so. I must have some tin to take me to Portsmouth. I want to know what you've got in that there bag!'

'You won't have that; it's the post. Let go, d.i.c.k;' and he pushed the pony forward, but d.i.c.k had got her fast by the head. Harold looked round for help, but Ragglesford Lane was one of the loneliest places in the country. There was not a house for half a mile, and Lady Jane's plantations shut in the road on either side.

'I mean to have it,' said d.i.c.k, looking coolly up into his face; 'I mean to see if there's any of the letters with a half-sovereign in 'em, that you tell us about.'

'd.i.c.k, d.i.c.k, it would be robbing! For shame, d.i.c.k! What would become of Mother and me?'

'That's your look-out,' said d.i.c.k; and he stretched out his hand for the bag. He was four years older than Harold, and much stouter.

Harold, with a ready move, chucked the bag round to his back, and shouted l.u.s.tily in hopes that there might be a keeper in the woods, 'Help!

Thieves! He's robbing the post!'

d.i.c.k's hoa.r.s.e laugh was all the answer. 'That'll do, my dear,' he said; 'now you'd best be quiet; I'd be loath to hurt you.'

For all answer, Harold, shouting all the time, dealt him a stroke right over the eyes and nose with his riding-switch, and made a great effort to force the pony on in hopes the blow might have made him slacken his hold.

But though one moment d.i.c.k's arm was thrown over his watering eyes, the other hand held the bridle as firmly as ever, and the next instant his fist dealt Harold such a blow, as nearly knocked out all his breath.

Setting his teeth, and swearing an oath, d.i.c.k was pouncing on the boy's arm, when from the road before them came bursting a meagre thing darting like a wild cat, which fell upon him, hallooing as loud as Harold.

d.i.c.k turned in fury, and let go the bridle. The pony backed in alarm.

The new-comer was grappling with the thief, and trying to drag him aside.

'On, on; go on, Har'ld!' he shouted, but his strength was far from equal to d.i.c.k's, who threw him aside on the hand-rail. Old rotten rail that it was, it crashed under the weight, and fell with both the boys into the water. Peggy dashed forward to the other side, where Harold pulled her up with much difficulty, and turned round to look at the robber and the champion. The fall was not far, nor the water deep, and they had both risen, and were ready to seize one another again in their rage. And now Harold saw that he who had come to his help was no other than Paul Blackthorn, who shouted loudly, 'On, go on! I'll keep him.'

'He'll kill you!' screamed Harold, in despair, ready to push in between them with his horse; but at that moment cart-wheels were heard in the road, and d.i.c.k, shaking his fist, and swearing at them both, shook off Paul as if he had been a feather, and splas.h.i.+ng out of the ford on the other side, leapt over the hedge, and was off through the plantations.

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