The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat (well read books .TXT) 📕

“Won’t God punish him, brother?” said Edith.

“Yes, my dear; sooner or later the vengeance of Heaven overtakes the wicked. But I am very tired after so long a walk to Prayers, and then to bed.”

The danger that Edward had incurred that day was felt strongly by the whole party; and, with the exception of Pablo there was earnest devotion and gratitude to Heaven when their orisons were offered up.

Humphrey was off before daybreak, and at nine o’clock had arrived at the cottage of Oswald, by whom he was warmly greeted before the cause of his unexpected arrival was made known. Oswald was greatly annoyed at Humphrey’s narration, and appeared to be very much of the opinion of Pablo, which was, to leave the scoundrel where he was; but, on the remonstrance of Humphrey, he set off, with two of the other verderers, and before nightfall Humphrey arrived at the pitfall, where they heard Corbould groaning below.

“Who’s there?” said Oswald, looking into the pit.

“It’s me, it’s Corbould,” replied the man.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes, badly,” replied Corbould; “when I fell, my gun went off, and the ball has gone through my thigh. I have almost bled to death.”

Humphrey went for the ladder, which was at hand, and, with much exertion on the part of the whole four of them, they contrived to drag out Corbould, who groaned heavily with pain. A handkerchief was tied tightly round his leg, to prevent any further bleeding, and they gave him some water, which revived him.

“Now, what’s to be done?” said Oswald; “we can never get him home.”

“I will tell you,” said Humphrey, walking with him aside. “It will not do for any of these men to know our cottage, and we can not take them there. Desire them to remain with the man, while you go for a cart to carry him home. We will go to the cottage, give Billy his supper, and then return with him in the cart, and bring your men something to eat. Then I will go with you, and bring the cart back again before daylight. It will be a night’s work, but it will be the safest plan.”

“I think so, too,” replied Oswald, who desired the men to wait till his return, as he was going to borrow a cart, and then set off with Humphrey.

As soon as they arrived at the cottage, Humphrey gave the pony to Pablo to put into the stable and feed, and then communicated to Edward the state of Corbould.

“It’s almost a pity that he had not killed himself outright.” observed Oswald; “it would have been justice to him, for attempting your life without any cause; he is a bloodthirsty scoundrel, and I wish he was any where but where he is. However, the intendant shall know of it, and I have no doubt that he will be discharged.

“Do nothing in a hurry, Oswald,” replied Edward; “at present let him give his own version of the affair, for he may prove mote dangerous when discharged than when under your control. Now sit down and take your supper. Billy must have an hour to get his, and therefore there is no hurry for you.”

“That is your gipsy lad, Edward, is he not?” said Oswald.

“Yes.”

“I like the boy’s looks; but they are a queer race. You must not trust him too much,” continued Oswald, in an undertone, “until you have tried him, and are satisfied of his fidelity. They are very excitable, and capable of strong attachment if well treated. That I know, for I did a gipsy a good turn once, and it proved to be the saving of my life afterward.”

“Oh, tell us how, Oswald,” said Alice.

“It is too long a story now, my dear little lady,” replied Oswald; “but I will another time. Whatever he may do, do not strike him; for they never forgive a blow, I am told by those who know them, and it never does them any good; as I said before, they are a queer race.”

“He will not be beaten by us,” replied Humphrey, “depend upon it, unless Edith slaps him, for she is the one who takes most pains with him, and I presume he would not care much about her little hand.”

“No, no,” replied Oswald, laughing; “Edith may do as she pleases. What does he do for you?”

“Oh, nothing as yet, for he is hardly recovered, poor fellow,” replied Humphrey. “He follows Edith, and helps her to look for the eggs; and last night he set some springes after his own fashion, and certainly beat me, for he took three rabbits and a hare, while I, with all my traps, only took one rabbit.”

“I think you had better leave that part of your livelihood entirely to him; he has been bred up to it, Humphrey, and it will be his amusement. You must not expect him to work very hard; they are not accustomed to it. They live a roving and never work if they can help it: still, if you can make him fond of you, he may be very useful, for they are very clever and handy.”

“I hope to make him useful,” replied Humphrey; “but still I will not force him to do what he does not like. He is very fond of the pony already, and likes to take care of him.”

“Bring him over to me one of these days, so that he may know where to find me. It may prove of consequence if you have a message to send, and can not come yourselves.”

“That is very true,” replied Edward; “I shall not forget it. Humphrey, shall you or I go with the cart?”

“Humphrey, by all means; it will not do for them to suppose I had the cart from you, Edward; they do not know Humphrey, and he will be off again in the morning before they are up.”

“Very true,” replied Edward.

“And it is time for us to set off,” replied Oswald. “Will Mistress Alice oblige me with something for my men to eat, for they have fasted the whole day.”

“Yes,” replied Alice; “I will have it ready before the pony is in the cart. Edith, dear, come with me.”

Humphrey then went out to harness the pony, and when all was ready, he and Oswald set off again.

When they arrived at the pitfall, they found Corbould lying between the two other verderers, who were sitting by his side. Corbould was much recovered since his wound had been bound up, and he was raised up and put on the fodder which Humphrey had put into the cart; and they proceeded on their journey to the other side of the forest, the verderers eating what Humphrey had brought for them as they walked along. It was a tedious and painful journey for the wounded man, who shrieked out when the cart was jolted by the wheel getting into a rut or hole; but there was no help for it, and he was very much exhausted when they arrived, which was not till past midnight. Corbould was then taken to his cottage and put on the bed, and another verderer sent for a surgeon; those who had been with Oswald were glad to go to bed, for it had been a fatiguing day. Humphrey remained with Oswald for three hours, and then again returned with Billy, who, although he had crossed the forest three times in the twenty-four hours, appeared quite fresh and ready to go back again.

“I will let you know how he gets on, Humphrey, and what account he gives of his falling into the pit; but you must not expect me for a fortnight at least.”

Humphrey wished Oswald good-by; and Billy was so anxious to get back to his stable, that Humphrey could not keep him at a quiet pace. “Horses, and all animals indeed, know that there is no place like home; it is a pity that men who consider themselves much wiser, have not the same consideration,” thought Humphrey, as the pony trotted along. Humphrey thought a good deal about the danger that Edward had been subjected to, and said to himself, “I really think that I should be more comfortable if Edward was away. I am always in a fidget about him. I wish the new king, who is now in France would raise an army and come over. It is better that Edward should be fighting in the field than remain here and risk being shot as a deer-stealer, or put in prison. The farm is sufficient for us all; and when I have taken in more ground it will be much more than sufficient, even if I do not kill the wild cattle. I am fit for the farm, but Edward is not. He is thrown away, living in this obscurity, and he feels it. He will always be in hot water some way or another, that is certain. What a narrow escape he has had with that scoundrel, and yet how little he cares for it! He was intended for a soldier, that is evident; and, if ever he is one, he will be in his element, and distinguish himself, if it pleases God to spare his life. I’ll persuade him to stay at home a little while to help me to inclose the other piece of ground; and, after that is done, I’ll dig a saw-pit, and see if I can coax Pablo to saw with me. I must go to Lymington and buy a saw. If I once could get the trees sawed up into planks, what a quantity of things I could make, and how I could improve the place!”

Thus thought Humphrey, as he went along; he was all for the farm and improvements, and was always calculating when he should have another calf, or a fresh litter of pigs. His first idea was that he would make Pablo work hard, but the advice he had received from Oswald was not forgotten; and he now was thinking how he should coax Pablo into standing below in the sawpit, which was not only hard work, but disagreeable from the sawdust falling into the eyes. Humphrey’s cogitations were interrupted by a halloo, and turning round in the direction of the voice, he perceived Edward, and turned the cart to join him.

“You’ve just come in time, Humphrey; I have some provision for Alice’s larder. I took my gun and came on the path which I knew you would return by, and I have killed a young buck. He is good meat, and we are scarce of provisions.”

Humphrey helped Edward to put the venison in the cart, and they returned to the cottage, which was not more than three miles off. Humphrey told Edward the result of his journey, and then proposed that Edward should stop at home for a few days and help him with the new inclosure. To this Edward cheerfully consented; and as soon as they arrived at the cottage, and Humphrey had his breakfast, they took their axes and went out to fell at a cluster of small spruce-fir about a mile off.

CHAPTER XIV.

“Now, Humphrey, what do you propose to do?”

“This,” replied Humphrey: “I have marked out three acres or thereabout of the land running in a straight line behind the garden. There is not a tree on it, and it is all good feeding-ground. What I intend to do is to inclose it with the spruce-fir posts and rails that we are about to cut down, and then set a hedge upon a low bank which I shall raise all round inside the rails. I know where there are thousands of