The Collected Works of George Bernard Shaw: Plays, Novels, Articles, Letters and Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ visible as a black expanse, against the lightest tone of which a piece of ebony would have appeared pale. Not a human being was stirring within a mile of Moncrief House, the chimneys of which, ghostly white on the side next the moon, threw long shadows on the silver-gray slates. The stillness had just been broken by the stroke of a quarter past twelve from a distant church tower, when, from the obscurity of one of these chimney shadows, a head emerged. It belonged to a boy, whose body presently wriggled through an open skylight. When his shoulders were through he turned himself face upward, seized the miniature gable in which the skylight was set, drew himself completely out, and made his way stealthily down to the parapet. He was immediately followed by another boy.

      The door of Moncrief House was at the left-hand corner of the front, and was surmounted by a tall porch, the top of which was flat and could be used as a balcony. A wall, of the same height as the porch, connected the house front with the boundary wall, and formed part of the enclosure of a fruit garden which lay at the side of the house between the lawn and the playground. When the two boys had crept along the parapet to a point directly above the porch they stopped, and each lowered a pair of boots to the balcony by means of fishing-lines. When the boots were safely landed, their owners let the lines drop and reentered the house by another skylight. A minute elapsed. Then they reappeared on the top of the porch, having come out through the window to which it served as a balcony. Here they put on their boots, and stepped on to the wall of the fruit garden. As they crawled along it, the hindmost boy whispered.

      “I say, Cashy.”

      “Shut up, will you,” replied the other under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

      “I should like to have one more go at old mother Moncrief’s pear-tree; that’s all.”

      “There are no pears on it this season, you fool.”

      “I know. This is the last time we shall go this road, Cashy. Usen’t it to be a lark? Eh?”

      “If you don’t shut up, it won’t be the last time; for you’ll be caught. Now for it.”

      Cashel had reached the outer wall, and he finished his sentence by dropping from it to the common. Gully held his breath for some moments after the noise made by his companion’s striking the ground. Then he demanded in a whisper whether all was right.

      “Yes,” returned Cashel, impatiently. “Drop as soft as you can.”

      Gully obeyed; and was so careful lest his descent should shake the earth and awake the doctor, that his feet shrank from the concussion. He alighted in a sitting posture, and remained there, looking up at Cashel with a stunned expression.

      “Crikey!” he ejaculated, presently. “That was a buster.”

      “Get up, I tell you,” said Cashel. “I never saw such a jolly ass as you are. Here, up with you! Have you got your wind back?”

      “I should think so. Bet you twopence I’ll be first at the cross roads. I say, let’s pull the bell at the front gate and give an awful yell before we start. They’ll never catch us.”

      “Yes,” said Cashel, ironically; “I fancy I see myself doing it, or you either. Now then. One, two, three, and away.”

      They ran off together, and reached the cross roads about eight minutes later; Gully completely out of breath, and Cashel nearly so. Here, according to their plan, Gully was to take the north road and run to Scotland, where he felt sure that his uncle’s gamekeeper would hide him. Cashel was to go to sea; where, he argued, he could, if his affairs became desperate, turn pirate, and achieve eminence in that profession by adding a chivalrous humanity to the ruder virtues for which it is already famous.

      Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race. Then he said.

      “Now, old fellow, we’ve got to separate.”

      Gully, thus confronted with the lonely realities of his scheme, did not like the prospect. After a moment’s reflection he exclaimed:

      “Damme, old chap, but I’ll come with you. Scotland may go and be hanged.”

      But Cashel, being the stronger of the two, was as anxious to get rid of Gully as Gully was to cling to him. “No,” he said; “I’m going to rough it; and you wouldn’t be able for that. You’re not strong enough for a sea life. Why, man, those sailor fellows are as hard as nails; and even they can hardly stand it.”

      “Well, then, do you come with me,” urged Gully. “My uncle’s gamekeeper won’t mind. He’s a jolly good sort; and we shall have no end of shooting.”

      “That’s all very well for you, Gully; but I don’t know your uncle; and I’m not going to put myself under a compliment to his gamekeeper. Besides, we should run too much risk of being caught if we went through the country together. Of course I should be only too glad if we could stick to one another, but it wouldn’t do; I feel certain we should be nabbed. Goodbye.”

      “But wait a minute,” pleaded Gully. “Suppose they do try to catch us; we shall have a better chance against them if there are two of us.”

      “Stuff!” said Cashel. “That’s all boyish nonsense. There will be at least six policemen sent after us; and even if I did my very best, I could barely lick two if they came on together. And you would hardly be able for one. You just keep moving, and don’t go near any railway station, and you will get to Scotland all safe enough. Look here, we have wasted five minutes already. I have got my wind now, and I must be off. Goodbye.”

      Gully disdained to press his company on Cashel any further. “Goodbye,” he said, mournfully shaking his hand. “Success, old chap.”

      “Success,” echoed Cashel, grasping Gully’s hand with a pang of remorse for leaving him. “I’ll write to you as soon as I have anything to tell you. It may be some months, you know, before I get regularly settled.”

      He gave Gully a final squeeze, released him, and darted off along the road leading to Panley Village. Gully looked after him for a moment, and then ran away Scotlandwards.

      Panley Village consisted of a High Street, with an oldfashioned inn at one end, a modern railway station and bridge at the other, and a pump and pound midway between. Cashel stood for a while in the shadow under the bridge before venturing along the broad, moonlit street. Seeing no one, he stepped out at a brisk walking pace; for he had by this time reflected that it was not possible to run all the way to the Spanish main. There was, however, another person stirring in the village besides Cashel. This was Mr. Wilson, Dr. Moncrief’s professor of mathematics, who was returning from a visit to the theatre. Mr. Wilson had an impression that theatres were wicked places, to be visited by respectable men only on rare occasions and by stealth. The only plays he went openly to witness were those of Shakespeare; and his favorite was “As You Like It”; Rosalind in tights having an attraction for him which he missed in Lady Macbeth in petticoats. On this evening he had seen Rosalind impersonated by a famous actress, who had come to a neighboring town on a starring tour. After the performance he had returned to Panley, supped there with a friend, and was now making his way back to Moncrief House, of which he had been intrusted with the key. He was in a frame of mind favorable for the capture of a runaway boy. An habitual delight in being too clever for his pupils, fostered by frequently overreaching them in mathematics, was just now stimulated by the effect of a liberal supper and the roguish consciousness of having been to the play. He saw and recognized Cashel as he approached the village pound. Understanding the situation at once, he hid behind the pump, waited until the unsuspecting truant was СКАЧАТЬ