Part 5 (1/2)

The farmer said nothing.

”He's young, isn't he?” said Tinker.

An acute and scornful expression of ”You don't get round me!” filled all of the farmer's face that was not covered with whiskers.

”Did you think to tie him up before you ran after me?” said Tinker earnestly.

Alloway sprang from the gate as though a very sharp nail had of a sudden sprouted up immediately beneath him, slapped his thigh, and stood shaking his whip at Tinker with expressive, but starting eyes.

”I dare say he's out of the county by now,” said Tinker thoughtfully.

”You young blackguard!” said Alloway, and stepped towards the kennel.

Blazer shot out to the length of his chain; and Alloway, in his fury, cut him savagely with his whip. Blazer roared rather than barked; the noise stimulated Tinker's wits; and he saw his way.

Alloway recovered himself sufficiently to say with choking emphasis, ”Horse, or no horse, you don't get me to leave here!” and went back to the gate.

Tinker let him climb on it, and then he said gently, ”Have you ever played at being a runaway slave hunted by bloodhounds, Mr. Alloway?”

Alloway scowled at him most malignantly.

”I should think it would be quite an exciting game. It doesn't really matter that Blazer's only a bull terrier; we can call him a bloodhound, you know,” Tinker went on, looking at the dog a little regretfully.

Alloway, coddling his fury, scarcely heard him.

”I'll be the slave-owner,” said Tinker, fumbling with the chain.

It came out of the staple; and Alloway roared, ”What are you doing, you young rascal?”

”Oh, it's all right,” said Tinker. ”Don't be frightened; I'll keep him on leash till you get a good lead.”

Alloway jumped down from the gate, on the other side of it, his anger changed to uncertainty spiced with discomfort.

Blazer felt the chain loosen, and darted forward, jerking Tinker after him.

”I can't hold him!” yelled Tinker.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I can't hold him!”]

Alloway turned, dropped his whip, and bolted up through the village.

Blazer dashed at the gate, clawing it; Tinker got a better grip on the chain, opened the gate, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the whip as Blazer jerked him through; and they set off down the road after Alloway. The farmer ran better than ever, faster than he had run after Tinker, faster, probably, than he had ever run before in his life.

Blazer, though Tinker dragged for all he was worth, made a very fair pace after him. But by the time they were a hundred yards beyond the village, the throttling drag began to tell; Blazer slowed down; and Alloway, still going hard, disappeared round the corner.

Blazer and Tinker fell into a walk, and then stopped.

Sir Tancred Beauleigh, on his quiet way to the village post-office, was surprised at being nearly knocked down by one of the most respectable young farmers of the neighbourhood, who was running with the speed and face of a man pursued by all the tigers of Bengal. A hundred yards further on he heard yells and screams, and shouts of laughter; and coming round a corner, he saw a small boy rolling in recurring paroxysms of joy on the gra.s.s by the roadside, watched by a puzzled bull-terrier. He had no difficulty in connecting them with the flying farmer.

He came up to the absorbed pair unnoticed, and standing over them, said quietly, ”What's the joke, Tinker?”