CHAPTER XV.

UNDER SENTENCE.

IT was more difficult for Hal to get as far as Farmer Bluffs cottage; nevertheless, on the very first half-holiday after the remove, he appeared there, just as Maggie ran out at the door.

Such a difference there was in her already! The fresh air seemed to have acted like magic on her languid frame. She would skip and bound and run; and everywhere her merry voice was heard, laughing, singing, calling to the dogs; mimicking the birds, or chattering through the open window to her uncle, who still sat in his arm-chair, bound hand and foot by gout.

Maggie had made great friends with both the dogs, but especially with Blazer. It was wonderful to see the fierce, rough creature jump up when he heard her voice, and stand there pulling at his chain, and whining for her to come and pat his great head.

And as for Maggie, she did not seem the least afraid of him. "He's ferocious, but he's honest," she would say. "I wouldn't come within a mile of him, if I were a thief; but he knows who are friends and who are not."

Hal was going in to talk to Farmer Bluff, but Maggie stopped him.

"Wait a bit," said she; "the doctor's there just now."

So Hal went round with her to have a word with his friend Blazer.

It was very pretty in the garden now. The wood was emerald green with the young foliage, and ferns were springing up through the carpet of dead leaves, uncrumpling their pale brown fronds in the sunlight that fell on them through the lacy branches of the beech and hornbeam trees.

Maggie had already learnt to leap the ditch. "Though mother says I mustn't stray into the wood," said she, "for fear of getting into mischief. So I just keep close at hand, and fancy that I'm far away. It's such a pity, too, my Uncle Bluff won't have the garden planted. He says the rabbits come across the ditch, and eat whatever grows. I mean to watch for them."

Indoors the doctor was talking in this sort of strain to Farmer Bluff. "Fact is, farmer, this gout is mounting to your stomach as fast as it can go; and if once it gets there, ten chances to one no power on earth will get it out. You'll die of it, that's all."

Farmer Bluff looked scared. "Is there nothing you can do to stop it, doctor?" asked he piteously.

"Do? When for the last five years and more you've undone every attempt I've made? Look at that!" And Dr. Winthrop pointed to the mug. "If you will drink beer, as I am sick of telling you, why, you must abide by the consequences. Dash my wigs!" exclaimed the doctor, warming up. "If I'd a mug of solid gold that made a fool of me, I'd throw it in the ditch and bury it."

In this strain, the doctor talked at him for ten minutes or more; then he went away. And Hal, seeing that the coast was clear, went in. But Farmer Bluff was unusually glum that morning. Do what Hal would, he could not cheer him up; for the poor old sinner had got it on his mind that he was doomed to die.

"If I were you," said Hal to Maggie, as he went out at the gate, "I think I'd sing to Farmer Bluff. I can't, you know, or else I would; but I can manage talking best. He's right down in the dumps to-day. I can't think why—unless it is because he had to leave the farm."

A few days later told them, though. Gout doesn't attack the more important parts of the body without letting a man know it. Farmer Bluff was in such fearful pain that Dr. Winthrop was sent for in a hurry.

The doctor shook his head.

"He's had no beer since you were here last, sir," said Mrs. Rust. "He called for it no end of times; but I refused to bring it in."

"You did quite right," the doctor said. "When grown-up patients won't be sensible, they must be treated like children."

He little knew the language Farmer Bluff had hurled at her for carrying out these orders for his good.

Farmer Bluff was watching Dr. Winthrop's expression very anxiously.

"Is there any change—for the better, doctor?" asked he eagerly. "What can be the cause of all this pain?"

The doctor shook his head again.

"You mustn't think," said he, "that three days can cure disease brought on by the habits of a lifetime. I will do my best for you; but you have killed yourself."

Hal met Dick that day.

"It's a pity," said he. "Dr. Winthrop says that Farmer Bluff can't possibly get well. The gout has reached his stomach. It's all through drinking too much beer."

Then he went on to the cottage to talk to Farmer Bluff in his own simple, sympathetic way. "I'm very sorry," he told him gently, "especially as it's your own fault. That makes so much worse of it."

"In this world and the next," put in Farmer Bluff gloomily. "But it's too late to talk about that now."

"Too late!—Why?" asked Hal.

But although Farmer Bluff knew pretty well his own reasons for saying so, he did not answer the boy's question.

So Hal went on: "I don't at all think it's too late. 'Never too late to mend' is a good saying; but 'Never too late to repent' seems to me a better. Because, you see, if what Dr. Winthrop says is right, your gout won't let you mend; but Jesus said that everybody who repented in their heart, would be accepted and forgiven."

"I've tried singing to him," Maggie told Hal, when he came downstairs again. "I know a lot of hymns; and he likes it too."

Hal looked about for Dick, when he got outside.

But at school, Dick had made a lot of new acquaintances who were not likely to know anything about the adventure with Bill; so he preferred their company, and had gone off birds'-nesting with some of them.

Arrived on the terrace, Hal went straight to the Squire's library. He found his grandfather sitting in his great arm-chair, with his gold-rimmed spectacles upon his nose, reading a big folio volume that lay open on his knee; for the Squire was rather fond of learned books. He drew his glasses off as Hal came in, and laid them on the page.

"Grandfather," said Hal, in a tone of great concern, "the doctor says that Farmer Bluff will have to die. The gout has got so far it can't be stopped."

"It's as bad as that, is it?" replied the Squire. "I thought as much," added he, half to himself.

Hal sat down upon the edge of a chair with a dejected air.

"It serves him right," added the Squire.

Hal looked up quickly, as if about to speak; then changed his mind and relapsed into silence again. He was disappointed. He had cherished the hope of being able to convince Farmer Bluff of his folly; and he had failed.

But his grandfather did not quite understand this.

"It's his own fault," said he; "he had fair warning."

Hal shifted again, and looked like speaking, but got no further. There was a big lump in his throat.

"All the arguing in the world wouldn't do it, if tweaking and twinging wouldn't," continued the Squire, mentally referring to his own and the doctor's discourses, together with the pains and premonitions of the disease itself. "It's astonishing what a man will bear, rather than give up his besetting sin."

"I did my best," added Hal, thinking of nobody's efforts but his own. "I spoke out plainly too."

"Ah!" said the Squire, suddenly remembering those words of Hal's when first he learnt that the bailiff was to be discharged. "You've been in and out a good deal, I suppose, Hal; as you say, you've done your best."

"But, you see, it hasn't saved him," rejoined Hal mournfully. "That's the worst of it."

"It's very sad," said the Squire, after a pause, during which he put his gold-rimmed glasses on, and took them off again. "It's always sad when a man reaps the fruits of his own folly."

"Especially when he has had fair warning," added Hal, "and might have done so differently."

"I must go and see him one of these mornings, I suppose," observed the Squire presently.

The next few days made a great difference in Farmer Bluff. When the Squire went, he found the downstairs room vacant.

"Where's Farmer Bluff?" asked Hal uneasily.

"Upstairs," answered Maggie, who had opened the door for them. "He can't get out of bed any more."

And she ran to ask if they could go up.

"Well, Bluff," said the Squire kindly, as he approached the bedside; "I'm sorry to see you like this."

"They tell me it's my own fault, sir," said the sufferer meekly.

Somehow, he had come to swear less and less since Maggie had been there. "My own fault!" he repeated, with a sigh.

"It's a hard thing to tell a man, when he's on his death-bed,"' said the Squire gently.

"But I suppose it's true," rejoined Farmer Bluff.

"And it's better that a man should know it's true," the Squire added solemnly; "for then he has a chance of taking comfort from the assurance that 'if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' Though our sins and folly may have destroyed our body, the moment that we cast them from us by our faith in Him whom God sent to be our Saviour, they lose power to harm our soul; and the only condition of forgiveness and acceptance is we cease to cherish our sins, and, trusting in Jesus, seek to be restored."

Farmer Bluff was silent. Perhaps his conscience told him it was less the sin that he was sorry for than the consequences it had brought.

"You weren't far wrong, you see, sir, when you turned me out," said he presently. "It was a hard blow, but I deserved it. I had no right to murmur; for I wasn't equal to my work."

"And I didn't leave you unprovided for," the Squire added kindly. "I chose this place, too, because I thought you would be happier near the wood than anywhere. I see you've brought the dogs here, too."

"Grip and Blazer, sir; yes. I can't make out what's got 'em both to-day."

The two dogs were barking "fit to fetch the house down," as the farmer put it. They had been barking so all night, and ever since sunset the evening before; so he told the Squire.

"I heard old Dobson throw his window up once or twice," said he; "and at last he took his gun and had a look about, to see if it was anybody prowling round."

"Perhaps it was only rabbits," suggested the Squire. "I've heard Dobson say that even hares will come into these gardens on moonlight nights."

"They will, sir, I can certify," said Farmer Bluff, amused for the minute; "though they won't find much to pay 'em here. I wasn't going to have the ground planted, for them to eat up every shoot that grew."

Hal was standing by the casement during this conversation, now watching his grandfather and the farmer, now looking out of the window at the kennel, where Blazer was jumping and plunging angrily, tearing the air with his furious cries. Just as Farmer Bluff finished speaking, he uttered a sudden exclamation.

"Grandfather!" cried he. "Blazer has burst his collar, and got free!"

At the same instant, the barking had ceased, and Blazer, without a scrap of chain about him, had gone racing down the clearing through the wood. The next minute Maggie's voice was heard on the staircase.

"Uncle Bluff! Uncle Bluff!" cried she, as she climbed. "Blazer has got loose and run away!"

In the excitement of the moment, Farmer Bluff made a desperate effort to get to a sitting posture; but that was beyond him, and he earned nothing but pain for his exertion.

"He's run right away," said Maggie, appearing in the doorway with an agitated face.

"Oh! He'll come back right enough," returned her uncle, lifting his head to look at her. "The mischief is—mercy on any one he should meet. And I don't know the man, except old Dobson, who dare go after him."

"I dare," said Maggie bravely; "I'll go to the ditch and call."

"No, child," cried Farmer Bluff; but quick as lightning Maggie was gone. "Stop her!" roared he, as she sped downstairs and out at the house door. "He'll knock her down! He'll kill the child!"

"Not he!" said Hal. "Not Blazer! He's far too fond of Mag. She's not afraid of him; no more am I. I'll go too."

But the Squire stopped him.

"I'd hardly dare go myself," said Farmer Bluff. "Hark! There she's calling him!"

And the little girl's voice was heard ringing out clear and loud—"Blazer, Blazer; where have you rushed off to? You bad old doggie, you!"

The Squire had his head out of the casement, calling her to come in; but Blazer had heard her voice and come back with a rush, leaping the ditch and bounding up to lick her hand, then crouching at her feet, whilst Maggie stood firm as a rock, and fearlessly patted his broad head. Then he leapt the ditch again, and barked, and looked towards the child; then came back, and jumped around her; then back to the ditch, as if he wanted her to go with him.

"Well, I'll leap the ditch then, Blazer," they heard her cry; "if that is what you want." And stepping back a pace or two, she took a run, and jumped it clean and clear.

"That was a good leap, my lass," the Squire called approvingly. "Surely she's not town-bred, Bluff," added he, drawing in his head to look back towards the bed.

"She is, sir," answered Farmer Bluff; "and such a white-faced thing, too, when her mother brought her here."

"Well, come!" rejoined the Squire cheerily. "There's something to set off against your leaving the farm. If you hadn't had to come up here, I suppose she'd be white-faced yet. But what about this dog? I don't see how he's going to be got upon the chain again. The collar is broken too."

"There used to be another collar about the place," Farmer Bluff answered.

For the brute had always seemed so fierce, they had not dared to depend upon a single one; but where it was, he could not say—though Mrs. Rust might know when she came in—nor who would undertake to put it on.

"I shouldn't be afraid if I could manage it," said Hal, who had reluctantly obeyed his grandfather's desire that he would not go down. "But you see my crutches are so in the way."

The Squire shook his head.

"Better wait till old Dobson's home," suggested Farmer Bluff. "The dog knows him."

"Only," put in Hal, "just think how frightened Mrs. Rust will be when she comes in."

Meanwhile Blazer was still rushing madly to and fro. Far from satisfied with having got Maggie across the ditch, he was evidently trying hard to prevail on her to go into the wood with him. If she ran a step or two he seemed so pleased, but as soon as she stopped, he barked and leapt, and tugged at her dress, making every sign dog ingenuity could suggest to coax her into going forward down the track.

"There's something at the bottom of all that, depend upon it," said the Squire, walking to the foot of the bed. "Blazer has found somebody or something; and he wants to show his find. I shell venture down and follow his lead. He knows me pretty well."

"He knows me better, grandfather," said Hal.

"We'll both go," said the Squire, setting off towards the stairs, Hal following.

A ditch was an obstacle both for the old gentleman and the cripple boy, neither of whom could leap like the little London maid. There was a way out of the difficulty, however, by going round to the gate of the wood; and in a very few minutes, the Squire and Hal had joined Maggie, and were following Blazer down the track, much to the jealousy of Grip, who stood watching from his kennel in the front garden, and uttering a series of short, snappish barks, by way of protest at this unfairness.

[Illustration]