CHAPTER XIX.

REVENGE.

ALL this while the Squire had been waiting for Dick in vain. At length, his usual luncheon-time being nearly half an hour past, he gave up, and set off down the hill, still thinking that he might meet him by the way; but desiring Mrs. Crozier, if such should not prove the case, to send Dick up to the Manor House that afternoon.

This, however, Mrs. Crozier had no chance of doing. Hurrying up the fields from the riverbank, it had occurred to Dick that it would be more prudent to dry his clothes before going home; so, taking a short cut across the grass to the back of the Manor Farm, he made his way to a haystack he knew of, which had been partly cut away on the sunny side. Here, stripping off his garments, and spreading them out in the sun, he covered himself up with the loose, warm hay, to wait and think over the story by which he would account for his absence from dinner, and his battered face.

Meanwhile Hal, hearing the church clock strike half-past one, had left Maggie to take Blazer home, and had struck across the fields and past the farm. Hot and flushed with hurrying, he arrived at the lodge gate just as the Squire came in sight.

Hal pulled up to wait for him, glad of breathing space.

The Squire was walking briskly. "We shall deserve a scolding for keeping lunch waiting," said he as he came up. "How come you to be late too?—And what have you done with the other boys? By the by, have you seen anything of Dick Crozier?"

"That's what made me late," answered Hal, guessing that his grandfather must have met Dick in his deplorable condition. "He had enough of his ducking, I should think."

The Squire stared. "Enough of what?"

"But you met him?" said Hal.

"Not a bit of it," returned the Squire. "I've been waiting this hour or more in Mrs. Crozier's parlour to lecture him."

Then Hal told his tale.

Bill also had heard half-past one go, and had suddenly recollected that he was on a promise of good behaviour. Now, he was sorely perplexed what to do. It was clear enough that his behaviour was not exactly good; but how to tell his story to his own credit, or, in fact, to get believed at all, Bill was entirely at a loss. So, hungry as he was, he did what cowards always do—kept out of it, and went wandering about the fields behind the farm.

"I don't see much in Bill's fine promises," remarked his mother, as her husband set foot on the threshold; "for all the Squire made himself surety for the boy. He ought to ha' been in this hour ago; and I ha'n't set eyes on him since nine o'clock, when he went down to school."

"'Spare the rod and spoil the child,'" quoted Mumby, sitting down heavily in his accustomed corner by the chimney-piece. "I wouldn't ha' let him off so easy for anybody else; but if the worst comes to the worst, why, I must reckon up wi' him, for all the Squires in the world. A father's got his dooty to his boy to think of first; and I ain't agoin' to shirk mine, not for all the firmament." After which paternal speech, he fell to work in silence on the steaming lump of steak pudding which his wife served out to him.

"Now, wife," said he, as he pushed his plate back and got up, "when Bill turns up, you don't give him a scrap o' this, d'ye mind? Dinner-time's when I come in, and, if he ain't ready for his'n then, why, he can go without, or else make shift to fill himself with bread." And having lighted his pipe, he went out again.

But Bill, having once given way to his cowardly fears, grew less and less brave about showing his face at home, and, as he was getting dreadfully famished, he began to wonder how he could get a meal. He thought of the gap in the hedge; but that was almost within sight of home, and the men would be just returning to work. Besides, Bill had had enough of stealing eggs. But it struck him that he might find some small birds' eggs to suck. At the bottom of the field in the hedge which bounded it from the orchard were some trees of which the blackbirds were particularly fond; and to these Bill now directed his steps, in hopes that he might find something to stay his hunger.

He was unusually lucky too. The first nest which he found contained four or five fledglings; but the second and the third had each five eggs in it, all of which he sucked.

"Better than nothing," said Bill to himself, as he threw the last shell down, and prepared to descend the trunk again. "It'd take a lot o' them to make up a goose's egg, though."

But in moving on to the next group of trees, Bill passed the haystack, and, casting a look round, to see that no one was about, whom should he discover but his old enemy, lying fast asleep in the hay, his clothes spread out around him on the grass to dry?

Once out of his wet garments, and snugly covered up, with the hot May sun shining down upon him, Dick had soon become so helplessly drowsy, that before the lapse of many minutes, he had become oblivious to everything, and was soundly sleeping off the effects of his cold plunge.

Bill stood still a moment in sheer amazement; then he tiptoed nearer, with his neck outstretched, laughing to himself, to think how completely luck had placed Dick in his power. A moment more, and he had darted forward, gathered up the clothes, and, as swiftly as caution would allow, had sped up the ladder with them.

"Now you're done, my fine fellow, or my name ain't Bill!" said he to himself, as he lodged his bundle, and took up his position at the top of the ladder, where the thatched slant was cut away. "Let's see how you'll look running home without your clothes!"

But an hour passed, and Dick did not rouse.

At first Bill had forgotten his hunger; now he began to cast longing looks at the branches of the trees beyond the stack. It was already seven or eight hours since he breakfasted; and he was beginning to find revenge rather painful.

Another half-hour went by.

Bill's patience was nearly exhausted, but Dick was still sound asleep, entirely unconscious of the trick that had been played him.

"I wonder," exclaimed Bill, "how long he's wound up for!"

But the idea of Dick's awakening only suggested other difficulties; for the longer Bill put off going home, the less pleasant he found the prospect of having to face it out in the end. It would certainly make ten times worse of it, if this should come out. Perhaps, on the whole, it would be better to descend at once, and leave Dick to make the discovery of his loss alone; but Bill somehow could not give up the fun.

"Let's rouse him up," said he at length; and pulling out some of the osier switches with which the thatch was pegged, he broke them into bits, and commenced pelting at Dick's upturned face. The first half-dozen missed, but presently one hit the mark. Dick stirred in his sleep, and turned over on his back, baring one arm and poking one foot up through the hay.

Bill chuckled, and sent another missile straight for his face. This time it missed; but the next hit hard, right in the centre of his forehead. Dick's eyes opened, then dropped to again, and he turned over on his other side. Bill aimed again, and hit him in the ear. This time, up went one of Dick's hands to rub the place, and he awoke outright.

First of all, he stared round in a bewildered sort of way, as if unable to make out his surroundings; then he examined his bare arm, and pushed the hay back from his chest, as if to remind himself that he was without garments. Finally he sat upright, the dry covering falling back from his arms and shoulders.

Now was Bill's time of triumph. Feasting on Dick's look of utter dismay, he no longer even felt his hunger. The very thought of Dick's having to get from the farm to the top of the hill beyond the Manor House without a rag to his back, was ample reward for all his waiting and fasting. Bill's revenge was so delicious to the taste, that it was all he could do to restrain his chuckles of delight. But Bill was not going to spoil the fun. By a strong effort of self-control, he mastered his merriment, and sat still to watch what course his unfortunate victim would adopt.

Whilst Dick had been snugly rolled up in the hay, the Manor House boys and their cousins, not satisfied with their morning's game at hare and hounds, had been for a long walk round in the opposite direction; and just as Dick sat up, hardly able to believe his eyes, yet guessing who had played him the trick, and wondering what in the world he was to do, up they came along the favourite pathway from the riverbank across the fields.

Bill from the top of the stack not only heard, but saw them trooping merrily along—Hal, on his crutches in the midst, keeping up bravely with the rest. Dick, also, from the shelter of the stack, heard the sound of their gay laughter, as they chattered by the way; and it just flashed across his mind that here was an opportunity to get helped out of his awkward predicament. Only the situation was so utterly ridiculous, that natural pride made him shrink from exposure. He was still hesitating, unable to make up his mind whether to call to them or to wait till dark should lend a friendly cloak to flight, when he heard Sigismund shout, "Who'll climb a haystack?"

Will took up the challenge, and off they raced across the grass, Hal following at his quickest.

Will and Sigismund were first at the stack. They had scarcely reached it, however, when there was a grand outcry, and a tremendous explosion of laughter; for there, bolt upright, and stark naked to the waist, sat Dick Crozier, with the most comical look of helplessness upon his face.

"Hullo!" exclaimed Will.

"Whatever are you up to?" cried Sigismund.

"A leaf out of Robinson Crusoe," yelled one of the cousins, holding his sides; "a naked savage!"

"A what?" shouted Hal, putting on all the speed he could command.

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Dick had turned red all over.

"He's taking a sun bath," jeered Will.

"They say it's very salutary," added one of the others, his eyes running over with merriment.

"Don't let the police catch you at it, that's all," said another, as Dick tried to scrape the hay together round him.

Sigismund had turned back towards Hal, who by this time was nearly at the spot. "It's Dick Crozier," called he.

"Dick Crozier!" echoed Hal. "What's the matter?"

The next instant, however, the question answered itself, and for a brief space Hal was at a loss whether to laugh or look serious.

"But where are your clothes?" asked he at length, in a tone of incredulity.

"Goodness knows," answered Dick snappishly, "Gone."

"But how did you get out of them?" asked Hal further.

"Took 'em off," said Dick in a surly voice.

"Queer place to choose," put in Will.

"But what have you done with them?" asked Hal, utterly at a loss.

"Nothing!" exclaimed Dick indignantly. "They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Can't you understand!" broke out Dick, with injured dignity most ludicrous to behold. "Some one's taken 'em."

The others roared with laughter anew; but the whole thing suddenly flashed upon Hal. Dick, afraid to go home, had conceived the idea of drying his clothes in the sun; and Bill, finding him there asleep, had played him this waggish but shameful trick.

Hal didn't laugh.

"Run for some clothes, one of you," ordered he; "to the cottages will be quickest. Bill shall answer for this—the mean scoundrel!" added he, in a tone of voice that changed the expression of that youth's face in a twinkling, and made the others look in awe at Hal.

Sigismund, always ready to do his elder brother's bidding, dashed off, followed by one of his cousins; but at that instant, Will, recollecting what they had come for, glanced upward, and caught sight of Bill.

"Hullo!" cried he. "There he is! Look! Look! Up there!"

All eyes were instantly directed to the top of the stack. But Bill, suddenly arriving at the determination that it would be more prudent to make off, had scrambled to the ridge, and over; and all of him except his hands had disappeared.

"Why! He's got the clothes up there!" exclaimed one of the cousins, catching sight of the bundle.

"I'm going up," said Will, setting foot on the ladder.

"Stop, stop!" cried Hal, afraid of a tussle at such a height from the ground, and half hoping that some one would come back from the cottages with Sigismund, and see fair play. "Let be till Sidge and Watt come back."

But Bill had caught Will's words like a shot, and, determined upon escape at all costs, had let go the ridge. Almost the same instant they heard a heavy thud upon the ground.

"What was that?" cried Will and the two cousins in a breath.

Hal turned white.

"He has never jumped it?" cried he.

Not a sound came from the other side of the stack; but there was scarcely a doubt as to what had happened. For a moment none of them dared stir; then Hal put one crutch forward, and nerved himself for the awful possibility, praying as he went,—"God grant he isn't dead!"

On the grass, a yard or so from the foot of the stack, lay Bill, white as a sheet. At first sight Hal uttered a cry of horror, thinking that his worst fears were realized. But at the sound of his voice Bill's eyes opened.

"My leg!" moaned he. "My leg!"

The right leg was doubled backwards underneath him, broken at the thigh.

"Here!" shouted Hal. "Help! Where are you all? Won't anybody lend a hand?"

The others had followed him, however, and were closer than he knew of. Half-a-dozen hands were instantly stretched out; Bill was quickly lifted, and the injured limb straightened.

"Bring him round on to the hay," directed Hal. "He'll lie easier there, whilst you go for help."

So Bill was carried round to where Dick sat—now shivering with terror and alarm.

"He'll want a stretcher," said Hal next. "You three can't carry him; and I should think it will be a case for the Infirmary."

The three boys declared themselves quite equal to the task of carrying Bill, and were anxious to start at once. But as they were in the midst of a warm debate with Hal, who stood out for the superior merits of a stretcher, the sound of footsteps announced the return of Sigismund and Watt.

"Grandfather is behind," shouted Sigismund triumphantly, as he advanced. "Now we shall see fair play."

The Squire had been up the hill to Mrs. Crozier's again, after hearing Hal's account of Dick's ducking; and perplexed at finding him still absent, had proceeded to Mrs. Mumby's cottage, to hear what Bill had to tell on the subject. Learning from Sigismund the fresh turn of affairs, he now at once followed to the scene of action, Mrs. Mumby hurrying after, vowing punishment on Bill for this fresh escapade, and carrying his Sunday suit for Dick.

Seeing Mrs. Mumby, Hal, with a quick thought for her mother's heart, at once started forward.

"Don't be frightened," called he, as he swung himself towards her; "it's only his leg. Bill went and tried to jump down from the top, and he has broken his thigh."

Of course, as neither Mrs. Mumby nor the Squire knew anything about the "king o' the haystack" position which Bill had for the last three hours enjoyed, further explanation was called for. But Hal soon put them in possession of the principal facts—how Will had caught sight of the young rascal, and started to go up after him; and how Bill, resolved not to be caught, had left his hold and slidden down with a rush.

In another minute, Will and Sigismund were racing to the farmyard, with the Squire's orders that a cart be brought round at once, to convey Bill to the Infirmary.

"Well, young man," said the Squire, as he stood over Bill awaiting their return, "I should think that you have had lessons enough by this time. For, remember, this all comes of getting through a hedge to steal goose eggs."

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