Bob Son of Battle [48]
quenches the thirst, and then he's for home, maybe a score mile away, and no one the wiser i' th' mornin'. And so on, till he cooms to a bloody death, the murderin' traitor."
"If he does!" said Jim.
"And he does, they say, nigh always. For he gets bolder and bolder wi' not bein' caught, until one fine night a bullet lets light into him. And some mon gets knocked nigh endways when they bring his best tyke home i' th' mornin', dead, wi' the sheep's wool yet stickin' in his mouth."
The postman whistled again.
"It's what owd Wrottesley'd tell on to a tick. And he'd say, if ye mind, Master, as hoo the dog'd niver kill his master's sheep--kind o' conscience-like."
"Ay, I've heard that," said the Master. "Queer too, and 'im bein' such a bad un!"
Jim Mason rose slowly from his knees.
"Ma word," he said, "I wish Th' Owd Un was here. He'd 'appen show us sum-mat!"
"I nob'but wish he was, pore owd lad!" said the Master.
As he spoke there was a crash in the wood above them; a sound as of some big body bursting furiously through brusliwood.
The two men rushed to the top of the rise. In the darkness they could see nothing; only, standing still and holding. their breaths, they could hear the faint sound, ever growing fainter, of some creature splashing in a hasty gallop over the wet moors.
"Yon's him! Yon's no fox, I'll tak' oath. And a main big un, too, hark to him!" cried Jim. Then to Gyp, who had rushed off in hot pursuit: Coom back, chunk-'ead. What's usc o' you agin a gallopin' potamus?"
Gradually the sounds died away and away, and were no more.
"Thot's 'im, the devil!" said the Master at length.
"Nay; the devil has a tail, they do say,"
replied Jim thoughtfully. For already the light of suspicion was focusing its red glare.
"Noo I reck'n we're in for bloody times amang the sheep for a while," said the Master, as Jim picked up his bags.
"Better a sheep nor a mon," answered the postman, still harping on the old theme.
Chapter XIX. LAD AND LASS
AN immense sensation this affair of the Scoop created in the Daleland. It spurred the Dalesmen into fresh endeavors. James Moore and M Adam were examined and re-examined. as to the minutest details of the matter. The whole country-side was placarded with huge bills, offering 100 pounds reward for the capture of the criminal dead or alive. While the vigilance of the watchers was such that in a single week they bagged a donkey, an old woman, and two amateur detectives.
In Wastrel-dale the near escape of the Killer, the collision between James Moore and Adam, and Owd Bob's unsuccess, who was not wont to fail, aroused intense excitement, with which was mingled a certain anxiety as to their favorite.
For when the Master had reached home that night, he had found the old dog already there; and he must have wrenched his foot in the pursuit or run a thorn into it, for he was very lame. Whereat, when it was reported at the Sylvester Arms, M'Adam winked at Red Wull and muttered, "Ah, forty foot is an ugly tumble."
A week later the little man called at Ken-muir. As he entered the yard, David was standing outside the kitchen window, looking very glum and miserable. On seeing his father, however, the boy started forward, all alert.
"What d'yo' want here?" he cried roughly. "Same as you, dear lad," the little man giggled, advancing. "I come on a visit."
"Your visits to Kenmuir are usually paid by night, so I've heard," David sneered.
The little man affected not to hear.
"So they dinna allow ye indoors wi' the Cup," he laughed. "They know yer little ways then, David,"
"Nay, I'm not wanted in there," David answered bitterly, but not so loud that his father could hear. Maggie within the kitchen heard, however, but paid no heed; for her heart was hard against the boy, who of late, though he never addressed her, had made himself as unpleasant in a thousand little ways as only David M'Adam could.
At that moment the Master came stalking into the yard, Owd Bob preceding him; and as the old dog recognized his visitor he bristled involuntarily.
"If he does!" said Jim.
"And he does, they say, nigh always. For he gets bolder and bolder wi' not bein' caught, until one fine night a bullet lets light into him. And some mon gets knocked nigh endways when they bring his best tyke home i' th' mornin', dead, wi' the sheep's wool yet stickin' in his mouth."
The postman whistled again.
"It's what owd Wrottesley'd tell on to a tick. And he'd say, if ye mind, Master, as hoo the dog'd niver kill his master's sheep--kind o' conscience-like."
"Ay, I've heard that," said the Master. "Queer too, and 'im bein' such a bad un!"
Jim Mason rose slowly from his knees.
"Ma word," he said, "I wish Th' Owd Un was here. He'd 'appen show us sum-mat!"
"I nob'but wish he was, pore owd lad!" said the Master.
As he spoke there was a crash in the wood above them; a sound as of some big body bursting furiously through brusliwood.
The two men rushed to the top of the rise. In the darkness they could see nothing; only, standing still and holding. their breaths, they could hear the faint sound, ever growing fainter, of some creature splashing in a hasty gallop over the wet moors.
"Yon's him! Yon's no fox, I'll tak' oath. And a main big un, too, hark to him!" cried Jim. Then to Gyp, who had rushed off in hot pursuit: Coom back, chunk-'ead. What's usc o' you agin a gallopin' potamus?"
Gradually the sounds died away and away, and were no more.
"Thot's 'im, the devil!" said the Master at length.
"Nay; the devil has a tail, they do say,"
replied Jim thoughtfully. For already the light of suspicion was focusing its red glare.
"Noo I reck'n we're in for bloody times amang the sheep for a while," said the Master, as Jim picked up his bags.
"Better a sheep nor a mon," answered the postman, still harping on the old theme.
Chapter XIX. LAD AND LASS
AN immense sensation this affair of the Scoop created in the Daleland. It spurred the Dalesmen into fresh endeavors. James Moore and M Adam were examined and re-examined. as to the minutest details of the matter. The whole country-side was placarded with huge bills, offering 100 pounds reward for the capture of the criminal dead or alive. While the vigilance of the watchers was such that in a single week they bagged a donkey, an old woman, and two amateur detectives.
In Wastrel-dale the near escape of the Killer, the collision between James Moore and Adam, and Owd Bob's unsuccess, who was not wont to fail, aroused intense excitement, with which was mingled a certain anxiety as to their favorite.
For when the Master had reached home that night, he had found the old dog already there; and he must have wrenched his foot in the pursuit or run a thorn into it, for he was very lame. Whereat, when it was reported at the Sylvester Arms, M'Adam winked at Red Wull and muttered, "Ah, forty foot is an ugly tumble."
A week later the little man called at Ken-muir. As he entered the yard, David was standing outside the kitchen window, looking very glum and miserable. On seeing his father, however, the boy started forward, all alert.
"What d'yo' want here?" he cried roughly. "Same as you, dear lad," the little man giggled, advancing. "I come on a visit."
"Your visits to Kenmuir are usually paid by night, so I've heard," David sneered.
The little man affected not to hear.
"So they dinna allow ye indoors wi' the Cup," he laughed. "They know yer little ways then, David,"
"Nay, I'm not wanted in there," David answered bitterly, but not so loud that his father could hear. Maggie within the kitchen heard, however, but paid no heed; for her heart was hard against the boy, who of late, though he never addressed her, had made himself as unpleasant in a thousand little ways as only David M'Adam could.
At that moment the Master came stalking into the yard, Owd Bob preceding him; and as the old dog recognized his visitor he bristled involuntarily.