Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas. Rowland Walker

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      "Will you come down and go quietly to the lock-up?" Still no answer, and the next moment–

      "Chip!–chip!" went the axe, and at every stroke the tall tree shook. The trunk was more than half-way through now, and the whole stem trembled with the blows, when a voice called from aloft, through the smoke–

      "Stop! Mr. Click, if you please."

      Quite willing to take a brief rest and to enjoy the discomfort of the youngsters, the keeper stayed his axe for a moment.

      "We'll come down, Mr. Click, if you won't take us to the lock-up. We've only had six of your beastly trout, and they were not worth two-pence each, but we're willing to pay you for them, and to come down, if you won't take us before the magistrates. We've done nothing to deserve it," said Jack, as he prepared to descend.

      "Do you hear that, Beagle? That's what I call trying to bribe an honest man. What do you call it?"

      "That's it–bribery and corruption," replied the constable.

      "The terms of surrender are unconditional, you young jackanapes." And with that Click went to work with the axe again. The tree quivered, and gave signs that it was about to fall.

      "Stop! Stop! We're coming down." And then, realising that the game was up, the two chums quietly slid down the trunk into the arms of their captors, and were triumphantly marched off to the lock-up.

      It was getting dark when they reached this ugly little building, but they were unceremoniously thrust inside, and when the key grated in the lock and the two men had left them, with only the rats for their companions, they were just a little bit "skeered."

      "Jamie! Where are you?" asked Jack, when they had been left alone in the silence and the darkness for some minutes.

      "Here! Here!" cried his companion, and they crept along the wall until they were able to touch each other. Then they cowered down in a corner, against the wall.

      "We'll get out of this before morning, else my name's not Jack Elliot, and then we'll do that which we've often spoken about. We'll run away–we'll go to sea–we'll tramp to Liverpool, and we'll find a ship going abroad, and we'll get taken aboard somehow–and–and we'll stick together, and make our fortunes. What say you, Jamie?"

      "Jack, you're a brick. Give me your hand. I'll go with you, and we'll stick together. I've no father and no mother, and no friends–except you. All the world's against us. Old Click and Beagle have been trying to catch us for months, and now they've done it. They'll brag about it, and the whole village will laugh at us."

      "Yes, they've threatened to turn us out of school, and now they'll perhaps send us to prison, just for taking a few trout, as though God didn't make the trout, and the streams, and the woods for all of us. And to-morrow they'll bring us before the magistrates–"

      "Will they, though? They won't have the chance. Just hold this, while I get a light, and then we'll examine the place," and Jamie pulled a piece of tar-band out of his pocket, unravelled the end, and handed it to his companion. Next, he took out his tinder-box, and quickly threw a shower of sparks on to the tow, which produced a little flame, about the size of a rushlight. Then they began to look around them.

      It was a common type of village lock-up, built of rough, undressed stones from the neighbouring quarries. It had massive oaken doors, which had been securely locked, and there were no windows, for the only opening was a small aperture, eighteen inches square, and about seven feet from the ground, and it was caged by several rusty iron bars. The floor was flagged with stones and covered with rushes.

      The place was used merely as a temporary lock-up for poachers and other law-breakers before their transference to the county gaol, and was situated just outside the village. In a few minutes they had examined the doors, the walls and the floor, but they sought in vain for any spot that offered a chance of escape.

      "The grating, Jack! Let's try the grating. I reckon that's our only chance. Here, give me a leg! Let me climb on to your shoulders and try the bars." This was no sooner said than done.

      "Here's luck! The middle bar is filed through at one end, and here on the ledge is a rusty file, thick with cobwebs. How jolly! Some one's been at this game before, and it's never been discovered. Half the work's been done for us, but it must have been many years ago. I believe if we can file through the other end of this bar we can squirm through."

      "I wonder who did it?"

      "Blessings on his head, whoever or wherever he is. May he never want a friend!"

      It was indeed a long time ago since the file had been used. It had lain there for twelve years hidden by cobwebs and dust, and the poacher who had used it had been transported.

      For the next half-hour the two boys took turns filing away at that thick iron bar, standing or kneeling on each other's shoulders. Suddenly at the end of that time voices were heard, and then footsteps approaching.

      "Sh! Sh! Put out the light, Jamie, quick! Some one is coming." The light was extinguished, and the prisoners sat down quietly on the rush-strewn floor.

      Who could it be? Had the magistrates sent some one already to remove them to the county gaol? If so, their chances of escape were already cut off. They determined to wait quietly and see, for this was all they could do.

      Nearer and nearer came the sounds they had previously heard. The footsteps halted outside the heavy doors. The rays of light from a lanthorn flashed through the interstices and the openings. Some one was examining the lock. Who could it be? The boys' hearts quaked with fear lest their efforts at escape should be foiled. Then they heard the voices of their captors.

      "They ain't broke gaol yet, Beagle! The lock's safe and sound. We've got them safe–this time," said Old Click.

      "Have you, though?" whispered Jack, under his breath.

      "Hullo, there, ye young varmints! Who's master now? You won't do any more poaching in Hawk Woods, I'll warrant," said the keeper, who seemed to have come purposely to poke fun at them. Then Jamie pretended to sob piteously.

      "Oh, it's crying ye are, is it? Ah, well, it's too late for repentance now. Ye should ha' thought o' that before."

      "Come away now, Mr. Click. They're safe till the morning, anyhow. Then we can bring them before the magistrates and have them whipped, and sent to prison, and perhaps transported. Come away," said Beagle.

      "I'd like to see the man who would dare to whip me," cried out Jack, his voice ringing with anger and defiance.

      "Tut, tut! my little man! When a boy begins training so early for the gallows, what can he expect? Howsoever, 'tis no use argefying, so I'll just bid ye good-night." After which they both went off chuckling and saying–

      "'Twill be a lesson for them. T' squire and schoolmaster seemed mightily pleased over it."

      To do the janitors justice, however, I must here say that it was not intended to punish the lads further than by letting them spend the night in the lock-up, in the hope that this might teach them a severe lesson. To this course Jack's father and the schoolmaster, who had been already informed, quite agreed.

      The lads, however, took it more seriously, and felt convinced from precedents within their memory that the full severity of the law would be meted out to them, and they determined to prevent it by escaping and running away from Burnside and saving their families this terrible disgrace, for Jamie still looked upon his aunt as his guardian, and СКАЧАТЬ