Brownsmiths Boy - A Romance in a Garden - Page 81/241

Whish, rush, whack!

"I say what are you doing of?"

"Oh!"

"Run! run!"

"Oh!"

These ejaculations were mingled with the blows dealt by our sticks,

several of which fell upon heads, backs, legs, and arms, anywhere,

though more struck the trees; and in the excitement one I delivered did

no end of mischief to a young pear-tree, and brought down a shower of

fruit upon my head.

It was all the work of a few moments. At the first the marauding party

thought it was some trick of a companion; directly after they scattered

and ran, under the impression that Old Brownsmith and all his men were

in pursuit.

As for me, I felt red-hot with excitement, and found myself after a dash

through some gooseberry bushes, whose pricking only seemed to give me

fresh energy, running along a path after one boy at whom I kept cutting

with my hazel stick.

At every stroke there was a howl from the boy, who kept on shouting as

he ran: "Oh! please, sir--oh! sir--don't, sir--oh! pray, sir!"

In my hard-heartedness and excitement I showed no mercy, but every time

I got near enough as we panted on I gave him a sharp cut, and he would

have been punished far worse if all at once I had not run right into a

hanging bough of one of the pears, and gone down backwards, while when I

scrambled up again my stick was gone.

I felt that if I waited to search for it I should lose the boy I meant

to make a prisoner, and ran on in the direction where I could hear his

steps.

Knowing the garden as I did I was able to make a cut so as to recover

the lost ground, for I realised that he was making for the wall, and I

was just in time to catch him as he scrambled up one of the trained

trees, and had his chest on the top.

He would have been over in another second or two had I not made a jump

at his legs, one of which I caught, and, twisting my arms round it, I

held on with all my might.

"Oh! oh!" he yelled pitifully. "Pray let me go, sir. I'll never come

no more, sir. Help! oh my! help!"

"Come down," I panted as well as I could for want of breath, "come

down!" and I gave the leg I held a tremendous shake.

"Oh!--oh! Pray let me go this time, sir."

"Come down," I cried again fiercely, and I nearly dragged him from the

wall, as I held on with all my might.

"No, sir! oh, sir! It wasn't me, sir. It was--oh, please let me go!"

The voice sounded as if it were on the outside of the wall, as my

captive hung by his elbows and chest, while I could feel the leg I held

quiver and tremble as I tugged hard to get its owner down into the

garden; but distant and muffled as that voice was, it seemed familiar

when it yelled again: "Oh I pray let me go this time, sir."