The Children of the New Forest

"Yes; that was what was current when Master Heatherstone, was in town. His man, Samson, gave me the news; and he further said, 'that his master's journey to London was to oppose the execution of the three lords; but it was all in vain.'"

"Well," replied Edward, after a pause, "if the king does come over, there will be some work cut out for some of us, I expect. Your news has put me in a fever," continued Edward, taking up the biggin and drinking a large draught of beer.

"I thought it would," replied Oswald; "but until the time comes, the more quiet you keep the better."

"Yes, Oswald; but I can't talk any more; I must be left alone to think. I will go to bed, as I shall be off early in the morning. Is that fellow, Corbould, getting well?"

"Yes, sir; he is out of bed, and walks a little with a stick; but he is still very lame, and will be for some time."

"Good-night, Oswald; if I have any thing to say, I will write and send the boy. I do not want to be seen here any more."

"It will be best, sir. Good-night; I will put Smoker in the kennel to the right, as he will not be friendly with the other dogs."

Edward retired to bed, but not to sleep. The Scots had proclaimed the king, and invited him over. "He will surely come," thought Edward, "and he will have an army round him as soon as he lands." Edward made up his resolution to join the army, as soon as he should hear that the king had landed; and what with considering how he should be able so to do, and afterward building castles as to what he would do, it was long before he fell asleep; and when he did he dreamed of battles and victory—he was charging at the head of his troops—he was surrounded by the dying and the dead. He was wounded, and he was somehow or other well again, as if by magic; and then the scene was changed, and he was rescuing Patience Heatherstone from his own lawless men, and preserving the life of her father, which was about to be sacrificed; and at last he awoke, and found that the daylight peeped through the windows, and that he had slept longer than he intended to do. He arose and dressed himself quickly, and, not waiting for breakfast, went to the kennel, released Smoker from his durance, and set off on his return.

Before nine o'clock, he had arrived at the spot where the heifer lay dead. He found the calf still by its side, bleating and walking round uneasily. As he approached with the dog, it went to a farther distance, and there remained. Edward took out his knife and commenced skinning the heifer, and then took out the inside. The animal was quite fresh and good, but not very fat, as may be supposed. While thus occupied, Smoker growled and then sprung forward, bounding away in the direction of the cottage, and Edward thought Humphrey was at hand. In a few minutes, the pony and cart appeared between the trees, with Humphrey and Pablo in it, and Smoker leaping up at his friend Billy.

"Good-morning, Humphrey," said Edward: "I am almost ready for you; but the question is, how are we to take the calf? It is as wild as a deer."

"It will be a puzzler, without Smoker can run it down," said Humphrey.

"I take him, with Smoker," said Pablo.

"How will you take it?"

Pablo went to the cart, and took out a long small cord, which Humphrey had brought with them, and made a noose at one end; he coiled the rope in his hand, and then threw it out to its full length, by way of trial. "This way I take him, suppose I get near enough. This way take bulls in Spain; call him Lasso. Now come with me." Pablo had his rope again coiled in his hand, and then went round to the other side of the calf, which still remained lowing at about two hundred yards' distance.

"Now tell Smoker," cried Pablo.

Humphrey set Smoker upon the calf, which retreated from the dog, presenting his head to run at it; and Pablo kept behind the animal, while Smoker attacked it, and drove it near to him.

As soon as the calf, which was so busy with the dog that it did not perceive Pablo, came sufficiently near to him, Pablo threw his rope, and caught the loop round the animal's neck. The calf set off galloping toward Humphrey, and dragging Pablo after him, for the latter was not strong enough to hold it.

Humphrey went to his assistance, and then Edward; and the calf was thrown down by Smoker, who seized it by the neck, and it was tied and put on the cart in a few minutes.

"Well done, Pablo! you are a clever fellow," said Edward, "and this calf shall be yours."

"It is a cow calf," said Humphrey, "which I am glad of. Pablo, you did that well, and, as Edward says, the calf belongs to you."

Pablo look pleased, but said nothing.

The meat and hide were put into the cart, with some of the offal which Alice had asked for the dogs, and they set off on their return home.

Humphrey was very anxious to go to Lymington, and was not sorry that he had some meat to take with him: he determined to get off the next morning, and Edward proposed that he should take Pablo with him, that he might know the way there in case of any emergency, for they both felt that Pablo could be trusted. Edward said he would remain at home with his sisters, and see if he could be of any use to Alice; if not, there would be work in the garden. Humphrey and Pablo went away after breakfast, with Billy, and the meat and skin of the heifer in the cart. Humphrey had also a large basket of eggs and three dozen of chickens from Alice to be disposed of, and a list as long as the tail of a kite, of articles which she and Edith required; fortunately there was nothing very expensive on the list, long as it was—but women in those days required needles, pins, buttons, tapes, thread, worsted, and a hundred other little necessaries, as they do now. As soon as they were gone, Edward, who was still castle-building, instead of offering his services to Alice, brought out his father's sword and commenced cleaning it. When he had polished it up to his satisfaction, he felt less inclined than ever to do any thing; so after dinner he took his gun and walked out into the forest that he might indulge in his reveries. He walked on, quite unconscious of the direction in which he was going, and more than once finding his hat knocked off by the branch of a tree which he had not perceived—for the best of all possible reasons, because his eyes were cast on the ground—when his ears were saluted with the neighing of a horse. He looked up and perceived that he was near to a herd of forest ponies, the first that he had seen since he had lived in the forest.

This roused him, and he looked about him. "Where can I have been wandering to?" thought Edward; "I never fell in with any of the forest ponies before; I must, therefore, have walked in a direction quite contrary to what I usually do. I do not know where I am—the scenery is new to me. What a fool I am! It's lucky that nobody except Humphrey digs pitfalls, or I should probably have been in one by this time; and I've brought out my gun and left the dog at home. Well, I suppose I can find my way back." Edward then surveyed the whole herd of ponies, which were at no great distance from him. There was a fine horse or two among them, which appeared to be the leaders of the herd. They allowed Edward to approach to within two hundred yards, and then, with manes and tails streaming in the air, they darted off with the rapidity of the wind.

"Now I'll puzzle Humphrey when I go back," thought Edward. "He says that Billy is getting old, and that he wishes he could get another pony. I will tell him what a plenty there are, and propose that he should invent some way of catching one. That will be a poser for him; yet I'm sure that he will try, for he is very ingenious. And now, which way am I to turn to find my way home? I think it ought to be to the north; but which is north? for there is no sun out, and now I perceive it looks very like rain. I wonder how long I have been walking! I am sure I don't know." Edward then hurried in a direction which he considered might lead him homeward, and walked fast; but he once more fell into his habit of castle-building, and was talking to himself: "The king proclaimed in Scotland! he will come over of course: I will join his army, and then—" Thus he went on, again absorbed in the news which he had gained from Oswald, till on a sudden he again recollected himself, and perceived that he had lost sight of the copse of trees on a high hill, to which he had been directing his steps. Where was it? He turned round and round, and at last found out that he had been walking away from it. "I must dream no more," thought he, "or if I do indulge in any more daydreams, I certainly shall neither sleep nor dream to-night. It is getting dark already, and here I am lost in the forest, and all through my own foolishness. If the stars do not shine, I shall not know how to direct my steps; indeed, if they do, I don't know whether I have walked south or north, and I am in a pretty pickle; not that I care for being out in the forest on a night like this, but my sisters and Humphrey will be alarmed at my absence. The best thing that I can do, is to decide upon taking some straight line, and continue in it: I must then get out the forest at last, even if I walk right across it. That will be better than going backward and forward, or round and round, as I shall otherwise do, just like a puppy running alter its own tail. So now shine out, stars!" Edward waited until he could make out Charles's Wain, which he well knew, and then the Polar Star. As soon as he was certain of that, he resolved to travel by it due north, and he did so, sometimes walking fast, and at others keeping up a steady trot for a half a mile without stopping. As he was proceeding on his travels, he observed, under some trees ahead of him, a spark of fire emitted; he thought it was a glow-worm at first, but it was more like the striking of a flint against steel; and as he saw it a second time, he stopped that he might ascertain what it might be, before he advanced farther.

CHAPTER XV

It was now very dark, as there was no moon, and the stars were often obscured by the clouds, which were heavy and borne along by the wind, which was very high. The light again appeared, and this time Edward heard the clash of the flint against the steel, and he was quite certain that it was somebody striking a light. He advanced very cautiously, and arrived at a large tree, behind which he remained to reconnoiter. The people, whoever they might be, were not more than thirty yards from him; a light spread its rays for a moment or two, and he could make out a figure kneeling and holding his hat to protect it from the wind; then it burned brighter, and he saw that a lantern had been lighted, and then again, of a sudden, all was dark: so Edward immediately satisfied himself that a dark lantern had been lighted and then closed. Who the parties might be, he of course had no idea; but he was resolved that he would ascertain, if he could, before he accosted them and asked his way.

"They have no dog," thought Edward, "or it would have growled before this; and it's lucky that I have none either." Edward then crept softly nearer to them: the wind, which was strong, blew from where they were to where Edward stood, so that there was less chance of their hearing his approach.

Edward went on his hands and knees, and crawled through the fern until he gained another tree, and within ten yards of them, and from where he could hear what they might say. He was thus cautious, as he had been told by Oswald that there were many disbanded soldiers who had taken up their quarters in the forest, and had committed several depredations upon the houses adjacent to it, always returning to the forest as a rendezvous. Edward listened, and heard one say—

"It is not time yet! No, no: too soon by half an hour or more. The people from Lymington, who buy him what he wants, always bring it to him at night, that his retreat may not be discovered. They sometimes do not leave the cottage till two hours after dark, for they do not leave Lymington to go there till it is dark."

"Do you know who it is who supplies him with food?"

"Yes, the people at the inn in Parliament-street—I forget the sign."

"Oh, I know. Yes, the landlord is a downright Malignant in his heart!

We might squeeze him well, if we dared show ourselves in Lymington."

"Yes, but they would squeeze our necks tighter than would be agreeable, I expect," replied the other.

"Are you sure that he has money?"

"Quite sure; for I peeped through the chinks of the window-shutters, and I saw him pay for the things brought to him; it was from a canvas bag, and it was gold that he took out."

"And where did he put the bag after he had paid them?"

"That I can't tell, for, as I knew that they would come out as soon as they were paid, I was obliged to beat a retreat, lest I should be seen."

"Well, then, how is it to be managed?"

"We must first tap at the door, and try if we can get in as benighted travelers; if that won't do—and I fear it will not—while you remain begging for admittance at the door, and keep him occupied, I will try the door behind, that leads into the garden; and if not the door, I will try the window. I have examined them both well, and have been outside when he has shut up his shutters, and I know the fastenings. With a pane out, I could open them immediately."

"Is there any body else besides him in the cottage?"

"Yes, a lad who attends him, and goes to Lymington for him."

"No women?"

"Not one."

"But do you think we two are sufficient? Had we not better get more help? There is Broom, and Black the gipsy, at the rendezvous. I can go for them, and be back in time; they are stout and true."

"Stout enough, but not true. No, no, I want no sharers in this business, and you know how ill they behaved in the last affair. I'll swear that they only produced half the swag. I like honor between gentlemen and soldiers; and that's why I have chosen you. I know I can trust you, Benjamin. It's time now—what do you say? We are two to one, for I count the boy as nothing. Shall we start?"

"I am with you. You say there's a bag of gold, and that's worth fighting for."

"Yes, Ben, and I'll tell you: with what I've got buried, and my share of that bag, I shall have enough, I think; and I'll start for the Low Countries, for England's getting rather too warm for me."

"Well, I shan't go yet," replied Benjamin. "I don't like your foreign parts; they have no good ale, and I can't understand their talk. I'd sooner remain in jolly old England with a halter twisted ready for me, than pass my life with such a set of chaps, who drink nothing but scheidam, and wear twenty pair of breeches. Come, let's be off; if we get the money, you shall go to the Low Countries, Will, and I'll start for the North, where they don't know me; for if you go, I won't stay here."