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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.
RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
TWO bedraggled youths crouched shivering under the shelter of a dripping laurel hedge and listened to steps crunching crisply down the path on the far side. The steps grew fainter, they died away, and the bigger of the pair crawled out of his retreat. "Come on, Bert," he said, in a hoarse whisper. "The bloke's gone."
Bert hesitated. The other, who was twice his size, seized him roughly by the arm and dragged him out. "'Ere, keep them teeth o' yours quiet," he growled, for Bert's teeth were chattering like castanets.
Bert, better known as "Bunny", Gribble, rose stiffly to his feet, and the foggy light of a raw, autumn day showed him a narrow-chested, pale-faced lad of 17. It showed, too, that both he and his companion were dressed in red-and-blue striped slop jackets, coarse canvas breeches and gaiters, and wore Glengarry caps with certain letters and figures stamped on the fronts. It was prison uniform, and the pair were, in fact, members of the J.A. (Juvenile Adult) class who had "done a bunk" from Princetown prison on the previous evening, and were now engaged in a desperate search for food, and for raiment of a somewhat less startling pattern than that provided by a paternal Government.
"Stop that there noise," snarled the other again.
"I can't help it, Skardon," answered Bunny. "I'm that clemmed with cold."
"It ain't cold. It's funk," sneered Skardon. "Lumme, if I'd knowed the sort you was I'd never have took you along."
Secretly Bert Gribble wished that Skardon hadn't, but he was too hungry, too cold, too much afraid of the other to say so, and he meekly followed his leader as the latter made his way cautiously round to the back of the farmhouse. Skardon stopped behind a gnarled old yew, and listened, but there was no sound except the steady drip from the eaves. Very softly he approached the back door and tried the handle. The door was locked, and he moved to a window to the left, and began to tickle the catch with a bit of rusty hoop iron.
It yielded, he pushed it open, then beckoned to Bunny. "Go on in," he ordered.
Bunny shivered. "You sure there ain't no one inside?" he muttered.
"'Ow do I know?" returned Skardon, scowling. "It's up to you to see. Get on with it."
Bunny was terrified of entering the house, but still more terrified of Skardon, who had bullied him mercilessly ever since their escape. He clambered clumsily through, and stood, quaking, listening hard for any sound.
All was quiet, and he whispered to Skardon, who quickly joined him. They were in a scullery opening into the kitchen. The kitchen, like the scullery, was empty, but a banked fire burned in the small range. Skardon went through, and nosing about, saw another door leading into the larder. Bunny, following, found him ladling clotted cream on to a huge hunk of bread and wolfing it furiously. Neither of them had tasted food since dinner the previous day, so Bunny at once followed his companion's example but he had not half satisfied his aching hunger before his taskmaster interrupted him.
"Go on into the front," he ordered. "See if there's any one in the house, and come back 'ere and tell me." Bunny hesitated, casting longing eyes at the loaf, but Skardon had no mercy. "Get on, ye greedy tyke," he ordered, and, taking the other by the shoulders, pushed him roughly out of the larder.
Bunny's teeth began to chatter again as he crept across the kitchen. A narrow passage led to the front of the house, with a door to the right, while stairs went up on the left. Bunny had just reached the foot of the stairs when he heard a sound in the room to the right as if a chair had been moved. His heart began to thump so that he could hear it beating, and he bolted back to the larder. "It ain't no use, Skardon," he panted. "There's some one in front there. We gotter bunk."
Skardon, still munching greedily, swung round on him. "'Oo is it," he snapped, "a man or a woman?"
"'Ow do I know? I didn't go ter see."
"Ye pie-faced coward," sneered Skardon. "Where was they?"
"In the front room. I 'eard 'em move."
"Then you darn well go and find out who they are and what they're doing."
Bunny's knees bent under him. "I dasn't," he gasped.
A heavy blow sent him staggering against the wall. Before he recovered Skardon had gone.
Bunny's lips were cut and bleeding. "The dirty tyke!" he sobbed. "I hopes they catch 'im."
Then came the thought that, if they caught Skardon they would probably catch him too, and a hideous vision rose before his eyes of himself standing on the mat in the prison office, while the stern-faced Governor sentenced him to cells, a diet, and other horrors. "I won't stay 'ere to be knocked about by 'im," he muttered. "'E can shift for hisself, 'e can."
He crept softly towards the back door, and had almost reached it when suddenly the silence was broken by a sharp scream. Bunny pulled up short and stood trembling all over. "A gal!" he said aloud.
"A gal—and—and that there Skardon." He paused. "I can't 'elp it anyways," he went on with a sort of groan. And went towards the door.
"You brute! Let him alone. Can't you see he's a cripple!" came a girl's voice again, and the fear and misery in it pulled Bunny up once more.
Skardon's reply was a laugh that made Bunny's skin creep. "I won't be tied!" came the girl's voice again. "Oh, if my father was here you wouldn't dare."
Bunny's head began to throb oddly. Hardly knowing what he did, he turned towards the inner door.
"Yes, but be ain't 'ere," jeered Skardon. "I seed 'im afore I came in. And you and the old chap'll do as I say, or it'll be the worse for ye. Now then, old geezer, where do ye keep your cash?"
A thin, quavering voice answered, but Bunny could not catch the words. Then the girl screamed again piteously. "Let him alone. Don't hurt him. Oh, you can't be such a brute!"
Bunny could bear it no longer. "I gotter do something," he groaned, as he went shakily along the passage. At the door a fresh spasm of fright seized him, and he stopped. "It ain't no use. I can't face that there Skardon," he muttered.
"There's money in the house, and I gotter 'ave it," came Skardon's voice through the door. "I ain't perticular how I gets it," he went on menacingly. "Be ye going to tell me, or do I 'ave to make ye?"
"I tell you there is no money here," came the thin voice of the old man. "You can look for yourself if you don't believe me."
"I don't believe ye, and I ain't got time to look," retorted Skardon. Bunny heard the swish of a stick, a groan of pain, then the girl screamed again.
"Shut yer mouth!" snarled Skardon with an oath. "Shut it, or I'll shut it for ye."
Bunny could stand it no longer. With shaking fingers he opened the door and found himself inside the room.
It was the girl he saw first, a slim, dark-haired little person of perhaps seventeen. She was tied firmly in a chair with a curtain cord, and was struggling desperately but vainly to free herself. Her big grey eyes were full of terror, and she seemed almost frantic with fear and misery. No wonder, for by the fire Skardon stood over an old man who crouched in a deep arm-chair. A pair of crutches beside the chair showed him to be a cripple, but Skardon, far from showing any compassion for his state, was brutally threatening him with a stick.
"I'll give ye one more chance," he was saying as Bunny came in. "Where's that there money? Spit it out sharp, or what you've had ain't nothing to what you'll get." With his back to the door Skardon did not see Bunny. But the girl saw him, and was quick to realize that, in spite of his appearance, he was different from Skardon. "Oh, please stop him," she begged. "Don't let him hurt grandfather. He will kill him if he hits him."
Skardon heard and wheeled. At sight of Bunny his face went dark with rage. "What, ain't you had enough?" he snapped, and came leaping at him. Bunny flung up his arm, but was too late. The knobbed end of Skardon's stick thudded on his skull and down he went. "That'll learn ye," growled Skardon standing over him, then he turned back towards the old man.
BUNNY came to, with his mouth full of blood, and a feeling as if his head was splitting. The first sound of which he was conscious was the girl sobbing. He opened his eyes. The old man lay back in his chair, with his eyes closed and his thin face white as paper. Skardon was not in the room. Bunny stirred and tried to get up, only to collapse again, but at last he managed to sit up. "Where's Skardon?" he asked hoarsely.
The girl started and looked at him with terrified eyes. "He is upstairs," she whispered. "He is looking for money. But— oh, I think he has killed granddad."
"Don't cry, miss," said Bunny awkwardly. "Mebbe, now he's gone we can get away."
"How can we?" she asked despairingly "You're hurt and granddad is dead, and I'm tied so I can't move."
Her voice was so piteous it made Bunny wince. "I'll untie you," he said, and tried to get up, only to slump giddily back to the floor. "It ain't no use," he said, hoarsely.
The girl spoke again. "Try," she begged "If you could untie me I could lock the door and perhaps keep him out. Try please try."
"Bunny made another effort. He could not walk, but he could crawl. Somehow he got across the floor, and reaching the girl began to fumble with the knots.
"There is a knife on the table," she whispered. Bunny managed to reach it and cut the cord. The girl got up. She ran across to her grandfather. "He isn't dead," she said. "He has fainted." Then she came back to Bunny. "Your poor head," she exclaimed softly, "it is all cut. Keep still and I will try and stop the bleeding." She got a clean cloth from a cupboard and began to bandage the wound. The touch of her fingers made Bunny quiver, but he sat quite still until she had finished. A heavy thud on the floor above made them both start. "Do you reckon 'e's found anything?" asked Bunny hoarsely.
"There is nothing to find," she told him.
"Then 'e'll be down again," quavered Bunny. "We better bunk."
She looked at the old man. "We can't leave him," she said. There were fresh sounds above, and as she listened a light came into her eyes. "He is in father's bedroom. I expect he is changing his clothes. If I locked the bedroom door it might give us time."
She started, but Bunny struggled to his feet. "I'll do it," he said. The girl looked at him, and Bunny saw the glow on her face, and realized that she appreciated the effort his words had cost him. "I'll do it," he repeated more firmly, and made for the door.
How he got upstairs he hardly knew. He was still horribly dizzy, and still more horribly afraid. Reaching the top he stood, listening. His heart thumped so that it seemed as if Skardon must hear it. Exactly opposite the stair head was a door, and behind it he heard movements. He crept forward, and with shaking fingers turned the key. Then he turned, giddy again and had to lean against the wall. Each instant he expected to hear Skardon hurl himself upon the door, but this did not happen. The only sound within was a shuffling as of bare feet upon the floor.
Shaking all over, Bunny crept back down the stairs. "I done it," he said thickly as he entered the fitting room. "And 'e don't know yet," he added.
"I think you are splendid," said the girl softly, and the praise sent a thrill through Bunny such as he had never known. "How's the old geezer—gent, I mean?" he asked hastily.
"He has come round," she told him. "Help me and we will get him outside. Then we will put the pony in the cart and drive away, as quickly as we can."
Between them they got the old gentleman out of his chair. He seemed dazed and luckily did not speak. But his feet, shuffling along the floor, made such a noise that Bunny was scared stiff, for he felt certain Skardon would hear.
They got out the back way. It had stopped raining, but was bitterly cold. "You get the cart out," said the girl. "I will put the harness on Bob." Bunny cast a frightened glance back at the house. "But Skardon, 'e'll see," he muttered.
"No, the window looks out the other way," she told him quickly. "But hurry—hurry! I don't think that door will hold very long once he starts on it."
Bunny wheeled the cart out. It seemed an age before the girl led out the pony with the harness on. Bunny held up the shafts, and she backed the animal between them. Bunny had never harnessed a horse in his life. He was fumbling helplessly with the trace when from the house came an echoing crash. "He's out!" he gasped. "S'welp me, Skardon's out.
"Not yet," answered the girl. "It will take more than one blow to break the door down. Be brave, and we shall get away before he can catch us."
Another thundering crash. "What's he doing, Esther?" asked the old man. Though still half dazed, he was recovering his senses.
Esther did not answer. Her fingers flew as she buckled the backing straps. "It's all ready," she told Bunny. "Help me to get grandfather in." But the cart was high and the old man heavy, and quite helpless. Before they could hoist him into the seat the back door was flung open and Skardon burst upon them.
"You dirty dog!" he shouted at Bunny. "I'll teach you to double cross me."
Bunny cowered away. All his short-lived courage had left him, and he was trembling like a leaf. Esther stepped between. "He's not a dog," she cried, her eyes flashing. "He's worth a dozen of you."
Skardon stared at her evilly. He had got rid of his convict kit, and was dressed in Esther's father's Sunday suit. But the decent dark tweed left him as ugly a ruffian as ever. "So that's how the land lies," he sneered. A cruel grin twisted his thin lips. "I ain't much of a lady's man," he said, "but I'll be cursed if I lets Bert get a head o' me." He paused. "You get in there," he ordered, pointing to the cart. "You're agoing to drive me instead o' Bert, Get in," he added with sudden violence. Esther looked pleadingly towards Bunny, but he did not meet her eyes.
"Bah, you ain't expecting him to help ye?" jeered Skardon. "A rabbit 'ud be as much use to you as him. Get on in," he ordered, "unless you wants me to lift ye up." He took a threatening step forward. and to save herself from the touch of his hands Esther obeyed, and climbed to the driving seat of the cart. "That's right, my pretty," said Skardon with his brutal grin.
Bunny watched in dumb agony as Skardon prepared to follow, but the latter paused with one foot on the step. "Sorry there ain't room for you, Bert," he said, still grinning. "But don't you worry. I'll look after her. She won't be lonely along with me."
There is the old saying about the last straw breaking the camel's back, but whether it was the last taunt from Skardon or the look of utter despair on Esther's face which broke the seal that fear had set upon Bunny no one can say—least of all, Bunny himself. The fact remains that a sudden, blind, unreasoning fury rose in Bunny's soul, transforming him in an instant from a shrinking, shivering rabbit into a creature quite blind to pain and danger. He did not hit Skardon. Something warned him that such a course was useless. He waited an instant until Skardon, grasping the rail of the cart with one hand and the seat with the other, had turned his back, then sprang at him like a wild cat, and, wrapping his skinny arms around the other's neck, flung all his weight upon him.
Skardon, taken utterly by surprise, lost his hold and fell heavily. Bunny, of course, fell with him, but in falling he managed to twist his body sideways so that Skardon did not fall on top of him. Before Skardon could recover from the surprise and shock, Bunny was on top of him, and, clutching him by the throat, set earnestly to work to throttle him.
Skardon fought desperately. He arched his body in a frantic effort to fling Bunny off, he battered his adversary with his heavy fists. He might just as well have tried to beat off a bull dog which had got its grip, for by this time Bunny was utterly insensible to pain, and hardly anything short of death could have relaxed his grasp. Skardon's struggles grew fainter, his face turned blue, the breath whistled from his choked lungs.
Esther was out of the cart. "Let him go," she cried in Bunny's ear. "Oh, please let him go. You are killing him." Bunny might have been stone deaf for all the attention he paid, and Esther catching him by the collar used all her strength to pull him off. It was useless, and next minute would have seen the end of Skardon had not two men come racing up at that moment through the farm yard.
"Here they are, Jim," cried the first. "And fighting, by gum!" The speaker, a burly fellow in the dark blue uniform of a prison warder, stooped and catching Bunny round the body plucked him away by main force from the victim. "I'm jiggered!" he said. "Who'd ha' thought of a runt like this having the guts to tackle Bruiser Skardon? Pretty near finished him, ain't he, Jim?"
"He ain't dead," replied the other briefly. "And that's lucky for Gribble."
Bunny, blood dripping from his battered face, stood, dumb. It was Esther who found words. "And if he had killed him it would have been no more than he deserved," she cried so fiercely that the two warders stared at her in amazement. "That Skardon nearly killed grandad, trying to get money from him. It was he"—pointing to Bunny—"who locked Skardon in a room and helped me to get grandad to the cart. Then Skardon broke out and forced me into the cart, and was going to make me drive him away when Gribble caught him and pulled him back. Runt you call him! I say he's the bravest boy I know."
Jim whistled softly. "Who'd ha' thought it?" he said slowly. "Well, miss, we got to take 'em back to prison now, but if you'll be so kind as to come along in the morning I reckon the Governor will be glad to hear what you're told us. And telling it won't do Gribble here no harm.
A smile lit Esther's face. "Come," she said. "Of course I will come."
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.