initial commit of ebook 39340HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-14 20:12:30 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-14 20:12:30 -0700
commit: 81724020ddc899a4e44dbd5fa27f366a7d9d662e (patch)
tree: 224a927772249debf858627646378b080db24c9a /39340-h
132 files changed, 9716 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/39340-h/39340-h.htm b/39340-h/39340-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c72df0e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/39340-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9716 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+
+<head>
+
+  <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+  <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+
+  <title>
+    The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Surprising Adventures Of Sir Toady Lion With Those Of General Napoleon Smith, by S. R. Crockett.
+  </title>
+
+  <style type="text/css">
+
+  blockquote {
+   text-align:justify;
+  }
+
+  body {
+   margin-left:10%;
+   margin-right:10%;
+  }
+
+  div.center {
+   text-align:center;
+  }
+
+  div.center table {
+   margin-left:auto;
+   margin-right:auto;
+   text-align:left;
+   font-weight:bold;
+  }
+
+  div.figcenter {
+   padding:1em;
+   text-align:center;
+   font-size:0.8em;
+   border:none;
+   margin:auto;
+   text-indent:1em;
+  }
+
+  div.poem {
+   margin-left:10%;
+   margin-right:10%;
+   margin-bottom:1em;
+   text-align:left;
+  }
+
+  div.stanza {
+   margin:2em 0 0 2em;
+  }
+
+  div.stanza span.i0 {
+   display:block;
+   margin-left:0em;
+   padding-left:3em;
+   text-indent:-3em;
+  }
+
+  div.stanza span.i2 {
+   display:block;
+   margin-left:2em;
+   padding-left:3em;
+   text-indent:-3em;
+  }
+
+  div.topbox {
+   margin-left:15%;
+   margin-right:15%;
+   margin-top:5%;
+   margin-bottom:5%;
+   padding:1em;
+   color:black;
+   border:2px solid black;
+  }
+
+  div.trnote {
+   margin-left:15%;
+   margin-right:15%;
+   margin-top:5%;
+   margin-bottom:5%;
+   padding:1em;
+   background-color:#f6f2f2;
+   color:black;
+   border:1px dotted black;
+  }
+
+  h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {
+   text-align:center;
+  }
+
+  .booktitle {
+   letter-spacing:3px;
+  }
+
+  h5 {
+   margin-bottom:1%;
+   margin-top:1%;
+  }
+
+  hr.chap {
+   margin-top:6em;
+   margin-bottom:4em;
+   clear:both;
+  }
+
+  hr.tb {
+   margin:2em 25%;
+   width:50%;
+  }
+
+  img.dropimg  {
+   float:left;
+   margin-right:.5em;
+   margin-bottom:0;
+  }
+
+  p {
+   text-align:justify;
+   margin-top:.75em;
+   margin-bottom:.75em;
+   text-indent:0;
+  }
+
+  p.author {
+   text-align:right;
+   margin-right:5%;
+  }
+
+  p.caption {
+   text-indent:0;
+   text-align:center;
+   font-weight:bold;
+   margin-bottom:2em;
+  }
+
+  p.h1 {
+   font-size:2em;
+   margin:.67em 0;
+  }
+
+  p.h1, p.h2, p.h3, p.h4, p.h5 {
+   font-weight:bolder;
+   text-align:center;
+   text-indent:0;
+  }
+
+  p.h2 {
+   font-size:1.5em;
+   margin:.75em 0;
+  }
+
+  p.h3 {
+   font-size:1.17em;
+   margin:.83em 0;
+  }
+
+  p.h4 {
+   margin:1.12em 0 ;
+  }
+
+  p.h5 {
+   font-size:.83em;
+   margin:1.5em 0 ;
+  }
+
+  p.right {
+   text-align:right;
+  }
+
+  p.right1 {
+   text-align:right;
+   margin-right:5em;
+   margin-bottom:-.8em;
+  }
+
+  p.spacer {
+   margin-top:2em;
+   margin-bottom:3em;
+  }
+
+  span.pagenum {
+   visibility:hidden; /* comment out to reveal page numbers */
+   position:absolute;
+   right:2%;
+   font-size:75%;
+   color:gray;
+   background-color:inherit;
+   text-align:right;
+   text-indent:0;
+   font-style:normal;
+   font-weight:normal;
+   font-variant:normal;
+  }
+
+  span.hide {
+   display:none
+  }
+
+  span.in1 {
+   margin-left:1em;
+  }
+
+  span.in2 {
+   margin-left:2em;
+  }
+
+  td.tdlsc {
+   text-align:left;
+   font-variant:small-caps;
+  }
+
+  td.tdr {
+   text-align:right;
+   padding-right:1em;
+  }
+
+  td.tdrfirst {
+   text-align:right;
+   padding-right:1em;
+   font-size:80%;
+  }
+
+  *.smcap {
+   font-variant:small-caps;
+  }
+
+  *.larger {
+   font-size:larger;
+  }
+
+  *.orange {
+   color:#f47236;
+  }
+
+  </style>
+
+</head>
+
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Surprising Adventures of Sir Toady Lion
+With Those of General Napoleon Smith, by S. R. Crockett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Surprising Adventures of Sir Toady Lion With Those of General Napoleon Smith
+
+Author: S. R. Crockett
+
+Illustrator: Gordon Browne
+
+Release Date: April 1, 2012 [EBook #39340]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR TOADY LION ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="h1 booktitle orange">Sir Toady Lion</p>
+
+<p class="spacer">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" id="frontispiece">
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="400" height="591" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;AS THE HIGHLANDERS HAD CLUNG TO THE CAVALRY STIRRUPS AT BALACLAVA.&quot;
+<i>Page <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" id="titlepage">
+<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="400" height="571" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h1 class="booktitle">THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF SIR TOADY LION WITH THOSE OF GENERAL NAPOLEON SMITH</h1>
+
+<p class="h3">AN IMPROVING HISTORY<br />
+FOR<br />
+OLD BOYS, YOUNG BOYS, GOOD BOYS, BAD BOYS,<br />
+BIG BOYS, LITTLE BOYS, COW BOYS, AND<br />
+TOM-BOYS</p>
+
+<p class="h4">BY<br />
+<span class="larger">S. R. CROCKETT</span></p>
+
+<p class="h4"><span class="smcap">author</span> of "<span class="smcap">Sweetheart Travellers</span>", "<span class="smcap">The Raiders</span>", &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">ILLUSTRATED BY GORDON BROWNE<br />
+NEW YORK<br />
+FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/verso.jpg" width="200" height="278" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="h5">Copyright, 1897<br />
+by<br />
+Frederick A. Stokes<br />
+Company</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/goodboys.jpg" width="400" height="431" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="h4 smcap">Too Good Boys<br />
+Not Allowed<br />
+To Read This Book<br />
+By Order<br />
+Field Marshal Napoleon Smith</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/contents.jpg" width="400" height="192" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrfirst">CHAP.</td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdrfirst">PAGE.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Prissy, Hugh John, and Sir Toady Lion,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Gospel of Dasht-Mean,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">10</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">How Hugh John Became General Napoleon,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">18</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Castle Perilous,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">25</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Declaration of War,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">First Blood,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">35</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Poor Wounded Hussar,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">42</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Familiar Spirit,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">46</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Put to the Question,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">52</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">A Scouting Adventure,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">60</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Enemy's Country,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">67</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Mobilisation,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">73</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Army of Windy Standard,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">83</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Battle of the Black Sheds,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">89</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion Plays a First Lone Hand,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">95</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Smoutchy Boys,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">101</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Before the Inquisition,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">107<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Castle Dungeon,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">114</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Drop of Water,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">122</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Secret Passage,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">128</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Return from the Bastile,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">137</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Mutiny in the Camp,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">147</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Cissy Carter, Boys' Girl,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">154</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Charity Begins at Home&mdash;and Ends There,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">162</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Love's (Very) Young Dream,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">174</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">An Imperial Birthday,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">185</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Bantam Chickens,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">192</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Gipsy Camp,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">199</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion's Little Ways,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">206</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Saint Prissy, Peacemaker,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">211</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Prissy's Picnic,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">220</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Plan of Campaign,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">237</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion's Second Lone Hand,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">244</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Crowning Mercy,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">258</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Prissy's Compromise,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">269</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hugh John's Way-Going,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">280</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Good Conduct Prize,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">287</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hugh John's Blighted Heart,</td>
+  <td class="tdr">294</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX</a>.</td>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Girls are Funny Things,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr">308</td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illustration.jpg" width="400" height="196" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdrfirst">PAGE.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"As the Highlanders had Clung to the Cavalry Stirrups at Balaclava,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Sir Toady Lion,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#titlepage"><i>Titlepage</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hugh John had a Sister,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Highway lies Deserted,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Dick Turpin, Late of York and Tyburn,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He Stood on the Roadside,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">It Could not Have Been Better Done for a Field-Marshal,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Castle Perilous,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">At the End of the Stepping-Stones,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Janet Sheepshanks Awaited this Sorry Procession with a grim Tightening of the Lips,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"I Couldn't Help Getting Beaten,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Success Often Bred Envy,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Sambo,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">A Fearful Black Countenance Nodded at Him,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hugh John Took his way Down the Avenue,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Wait Till the Next Time,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He was Obliged to Climb a Tree,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hugh John Tugged Her Hair,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Deposited General-Field-Marshal Smith in the Horse-Pond,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Generals of Division, Equal in Rank,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Army was Finally Mustered,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Black Sheds,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Battle of the Black Sheds,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Cautiously he Returned Through the Hedge,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Oh, the Bonnie Laddie!"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Surrender!" cried Nipper Donnan,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Head Smoutchy,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Got You at Last!"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Will ye Say Now that the Castle is Your Father's?"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"But I Won't Cry&mdash;Even to Myself,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He Bent the Weight of his Body This way and That,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Pining Captive,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Secret Passage,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He Saw a Stretch of Rippled River,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He Floundered Through,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"I Create you General of the Comm'sariat,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Don't you Speak Against my Father,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Sammy Carter Mutinous,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"One, Two, Three&mdash;and a Tiger,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Look at Him, Madam," said Mrs. Baker,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion sat Plump Down,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Let me Look at Him," She Said,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Love's Young Dream,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Hit Hard, Brave Soldier,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Wasn't it Splendid?"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion Preferred to Sleep in the Most Curious Positions,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Bantam Chickens,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Gipsies' Wood,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">She Carried a Back Load of Tinware,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Oldest Implements Invented for the Purpose,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">She Went on Her Way,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Oh, Please Don't, Sir!"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Welcomed by the Enemy,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Return of the Two Swift Footmen,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Hydraulic Pressure,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Plan of Campaign,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Trotting Steadily Through the Town,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Bounding Brothers,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Living Chain,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Sixpence for Admission,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Then," said Prissy, "I think it can be Managed,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">Toady Lion Stood Looking on,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_280">280</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">A Slim Bundle of Limp Woe,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">The Good Conduct Prize,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"Smell That,"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">A Blighted Being,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">He Sprang Over the Stile,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">"It Looks Like Half of a Sixpence which Somebody has Stepped upon. How Quaint!"</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc">As if Her Heart were Light Within Her,</td>
+  <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap01.jpg" width="400" height="261" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="h2">Sir Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">PRISSY, HUGH JOHN, AND SIR TOADY LION.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap01d.jpg" width="91" height="100" alt="" />
+<b><span class="hide">I</span>T</b> is always difficult to be great, but it is specially difficult when
+greatness is thrust upon one, as it were, along with the additional
+burden of a distinguished historical name. This was the case with
+General Napoleon Smith. Yet when this story opens he was not a
+general. That came later, along with the cares of empire and the
+management of great campaigns.</p>
+
+<p>But already in secret he was Napoleon Smith, though his nurse
+sometimes still referred to him as Johnnie, and his father&mdash;but stay.
+I will reveal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> to you the secret of our soldier's life right at the
+start. Though a Napoleon, our hero was no Buonaparte. No, his name was
+Smith&mdash;plain Smith; his father was the owner of four large farms and a
+good many smaller ones, near that celebrated Border which separates
+the two hostile countries of England and Scotland. Neighbours referred
+to the General's father easily as "Picton Smith of Windy Standard,"
+from the soughing, mist-nursing mountain of heather and fir-trees
+which gave its name to the estate, and to the large farm he had
+cultivated himself ever since the death of his wife, chiefly as a
+means of distracting his mind, and keeping at a distance loneliness
+and sad thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John Smith had never mentioned the fact of his Imperial descent
+to his father, but in a moment of confidence he had told his old
+nurse, who smiled with a world-weary wisdom, which betrayed her
+knowledge of the secrets of courts&mdash;and said that doubtless it was so.
+He had also a brother and sister, but they were not, at that time, of
+the race of the Corporal of Ajaccio. On the contrary, Arthur George,
+the younger, aged five, was an engine-driver. There was yet another
+who rode in a mail-cart, and puckered up his face upon being addressed
+in a strange foreign language, as "Was-it-then? A
+darling&mdash;goo-goo&mdash;then it was!" This creature, however, was not owned
+as a brother by Hugh John and Arthur George, and indeed may at this
+point be dismissed from the story. The former went so far as stoutly
+to deny his brother's sex, in the face of such proofs as
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> were daily
+afforded by Baby's tendency to slap his sister's face wherever they
+met, and also to seize things and throw them on the floor for the
+pleasure of seeing them break. Arthur George, however, had secret
+hopes that Baby would even yet turn out a satisfactory boy whenever he
+saw him killing flies on the window, and on these occasions hounded
+him on to yet deadlier exertions. But he dared not mention his
+anticipations to his soldier brother, that haughty scion of an
+Imperial race. For reasons afterwards to be given, Arthur George was
+usually known as Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hugh John had a sister. Her name was Priscilla. Priscilla was
+distinguished also, though not in a military sense. She was literary,
+and wrote books "on the sly," as Hugh John said. He considered this
+secrecy the only respectable part of a very shady business. Specially
+he objected to being made to serve as the hero of Priscilla's tales,
+and went so far as to promise to "thump" his sister if he caught her
+introducing him as of any military rank under that of either general
+or colour-sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Pris," he said on one occasion, "if you put me into your
+beastly girl books all about dolls and love and trumpery, I'll bat you
+over the head with a wicket!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hum&mdash;I dare say, if you could catch me," said Priscilla, with her
+nose very much in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Catch you! I'll catch and bat you now if you say much."</p>
+
+<p>"Much, much! Can't, can't! There! 'Fraid cat! Um-m-um!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, then, I just will!"</p>
+
+<p>It is sad to be obliged to state here, in the very beginning of these
+veracious chronicles, that at this time Prissy and Napoleon Smith were
+by no means model children, though Prissy afterwards marvellously
+improved. Even their best friends admitted as much, and as for their
+enemies&mdash;well, their old gardener's remarks when they chased each
+other over his newly planted beds would be out of place even in a
+military periodical, and might be the means of preventing a book with
+Mr. Gordon Browne's nice pictures from being included in some
+well-conducted Sunday-school libraries.</p>
+
+<p>General Napoleon Smith could not catch Priscilla (as, indeed, he well
+knew before he started), especially when she picked up her skirts and
+went right at hedges and ditches like a young colt. Napoleon looked
+upon this trait in Prissy's character as degrading and unsportsmanlike
+in the extreme. He regarded long skirts, streaming hair, and flapping,
+aggravating pinafores as the natural handicap of girls in the race of
+life, and as particularly useful when they "cheeked" their brothers.
+It was therefore wicked to neutralise these equalising disadvantages
+by strings tied round above the knees, or by the still more scientific
+device of a sash suspended from the belt before, passed between
+Prissy's legs, and attached to the belt behind.</p>
+
+<p>But, then, as Napoleon admitted even at ten years of age, girls are
+capable of anything; and to his dying day he has never had any reason
+to
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> change his opinion&mdash;at least, so far as he has yet got.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"All right, then, I will listen to your old stuff if you will say you
+are sorry, and promise to be my horse, and let me lick you for an hour
+afterwards&mdash;besides giving me a penny."</p>
+
+<p>It was thus that Priscilla, to whom in after times great lights of
+criticism listened with approval, was compelled to stoop to artifice
+and bribery in order to secure and hold her first audience. Whereupon
+the authoress took paper from her pocket, and as she did so, held the
+manuscript with its back to Napoleon Smith, in order to conceal the
+suspicious shortness of the lines. But that great soldier instantly
+detected the subterfuge.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a penny more for listening to poetry!" he said, with sudden
+alacrity.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it is," replied Prissy sadly, "but you might be nice about it
+just this once. I'm dreadfully, dreadfully poor this week, Hugh John!"</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," retorted Napoleon Smith sternly; "if I wasn't, do you think
+I would listen at all to your beastly old poetry? Drive on!"</p>
+
+<p>Thus encouraged, Priscilla meekly began&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>My love he is a soldier bold,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>And my love is a knight;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>He girds him in a coat of mail,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>When he goes forth to fight.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"That's not quite so bad as usual," said Napoleon condescendingly,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+toying meanwhile with the
+lash of an old dog-whip he had just "boned"
+out of the harness-room. Priscilla beamed gratefully upon her critic,
+and proceeded&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>He rides him forth across the sand</i>&mdash;&mdash;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Who rides whom?" cried Napoleon. "Didn't the fool ride a horse?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means himself," said Priscilla meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why doesn't <i>it</i> say so?" cried the critic triumphantly, tapping
+his boot with the "boned" dog-whip just like any ordinary lord of
+creation in presence of his inferiors.</p>
+
+<p>"It's poetry," explained Priscilla timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's silly!" retorted Napoleon, judicially and finally.</p>
+
+<p>Priscilla resumed her reading in a lower and more hurried tone. She
+knew that she was skating over thin ice.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>He rides him forth across the sand,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Upon a stealthy steed.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"You mean 'stately,' you know," interrupted Napoleon&mdash;somewhat rudely,
+Priscilla thought. Yet he was quite within his rights, for Priscilla
+had not yet learned that a critic always knows what you mean to say
+much better than you do yourself.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't mean 'stately,'" said Priscilla, "I mean 'stealthy,' the
+way a horse goes on sand. You go and gallop on the sea-shore and
+you'll find out."</p>
+
+<p>I've listened quite a pennyworth now."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>He rides him forth across the sand,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Upon a stealthy steed,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And when he sails upon the sea,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>He plays upon a reed!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Great soft <i>he</i> was," cried Napoleon Smith; "and if ever I hear you
+say that I did such a thing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Priscilla hurried on more quickly than ever.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>In all the world there's none can do</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The deeds that he hath done:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>When he hath slain his enemies,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Then he comes back alone.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"That's better!" said Napoleon, nodding encouragement. "At any rate it
+isn't long. Now, give me my penny."</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't," said Priscilla, the pride of successful achievement swelling
+in her breast; "besides, it isn't Saturday yet, and you've only
+listened to three verses anyway. You will have to listen to ever so
+much more than that before you get a penny."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John! Priscilla!" came a voice from a distance.</p>
+
+<p>The great soldier Napoleon Smith instantly effected a retreat in
+masterly fashion behind a gooseberry bush.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Jane calling us," said Priscilla; "she wants us to go in and
+be washed for dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Course she does," sneered Napoleon; "think she's out screeching like
+that for fun? Well, let her. I am not going in to be towelled till I'm
+all over red and scurfy, and get no end of soap in my eyes."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But Jane wants you; she'll be <i>so</i> cross if you don't come."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't care for Jane," said Napoleon Smith with dignity, but all
+the same making himself as small as possible behind his gooseberry
+bush.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you don't come in, Jane will tell father&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't care for father&mdash;" the prone but gallant General was
+proceeding to declare in the face of Priscilla's horrified
+protestations that he mustn't speak so, when a slow heavy step was
+heard on the other side of the hedge, and a deep voice uttered the
+single syllable, "<i>John!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father," a meek young man standing up behind the gooseberry bush
+instantly replied: he was trying to brush himself as clean as
+circumstances would permit. "Yes, father; were you calling me,
+father?"</p>
+
+<p>Incredible as it seems, the meek and apologetic words were those of
+that bold enemy of tyrants, General Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<p>Priscilla smiled at the General as he emerged from the hands of Jane,
+"red and scurfy," just as he had said. She smiled meaningly and
+aggravatingly, so that Napoleon was reduced to shaking his clenched
+fist covertly at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till I get you out," he said, using the phrase time-honoured by
+such occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Priscilla Smith only smiled more meaningly still. "First catch your
+hare!" she said under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon Smith stalked in to lunch, the children's dinner at the house
+of Windy Standard,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+with an expression of fixed and Byronic gloom on
+his face, which was only lightened by the sight of his favourite
+pigeon-pie (with a lovely crust) standing on the side-board.</p>
+
+<p>"Say grace, Hugh John," commanded his father.</p>
+
+<p>And General Napoleon Smith said grace with all the sweet innocence of
+a budding angel singing in the cherub choir, aiming at the same time a
+kick at his sister underneath the table, which overturned a footstool
+and damaged the leg of a chair.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap02.jpg" width="400" height="215" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE GOSPEL OF DASHT-MEAN.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap02d.jpg" width="91" height="100" alt="" />
+<b><span class="hide">I</span>T</b> was on the day preceding a great review near the Border town of
+Edam, that Hugh John Picton Smith first became a soldier and a
+Napoleon. His father's house was connected by a short avenue with a
+great main road along which king and beggar had for a thousand years
+gone posting to town. Now the once celebrated highway lies deserted,
+for along the heights to the east run certain bars of metal, shining
+and parallel, over which rush all who can pay the cost of a
+third-class ticket&mdash;a roar like thunder preceding them, white steam
+and sulphurous reek wreathing after them. The great highway beneath is
+abandoned to the harmless impecunious bicyclist, and on the North Road
+the sweeping cloud dust has it all its own way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Hugh John loved the great thoroughfare, deserted though it was. To
+his mind there could be no loneliness upon its eye-taking stretches,
+for who knew but out of the dust there might come with a clatter Mr.
+Dick Turpin, late of York and Tyburn; Robert the Bruce, charging south
+into England with his Galloway garrons, to obtain some fresh English
+beef wherewithal to feed his scurvy Scots; or (best of all) his
+Majesty King George's mail-coach Highflyer, the picture of which,
+coloured and blazoned, hung in his father's workroom.</p>
+
+<p>People told him that all these great folks were long since dead. But
+Hugh John knew better than to believe any "rot" grown-ups might choose
+to palm off on him. What did grown-ups know anyway? They were rich, of
+course. Unlimited shillings were at their command; and as for
+pennies&mdash;well, all the pennies in the world lived in their breeches'
+pockets. But what use did they make of these god-like gifts? Did you
+ever meet them at the tuck-shop down in the town buying fourteen
+cheese-cakes for a shilling, as any sensible person would? Did they
+play with "real-real trains," drawn by locomotives of shining brass?
+No! they preferred either one lump of sugar or none at all in their
+tea. This showed how much they knew about what was good for them.</p>
+
+<p>So if such persons informed him that Robert the Bruce had been dead
+some time, or showed him the rope with which Turpin was hung, coiled
+on a pedestal in a horrid dull museum (free on Saturdays, 10 to 4),
+Hugh John Picton looked and
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+nodded, for he was an intelligent boy.
+If you didn't nod sometimes as if you were taking it all in, they
+would explain it all over again to you&mdash;with abominable dates and
+additional particulars, which they would even ask you afterwards if
+you remembered.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap02i1.jpg" width="400" height="594" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;MR. DICK TURPIN, LATE OF YORK AND TYBURN.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For many years Hugh John had gone every day down to the porter's lodge
+at the end of the avenue, and though old Betty the rheumaticky warder
+was not allowed to let him out, he stared happily enough through the
+bars. It was a white gate of strong wood, lovely to swing on if you
+happened to be there when it was opened for a carriageful of
+calling-folk in the afternoon, or for Hugh John's father when he went
+out a-riding.</p>
+
+<p>But you had to hide pretty quick behind the laurels, and rush out in
+that strictly limited period before old Betty found her key, and yet
+after the tail of Agincourt, his father's great grey horse, had
+switched round the corner. If you were the least late, Betty would get
+ahead of you, and the gates of Paradise would be shut. If you were a
+moment too soon, it was just as bad&mdash;or even worse. For then the voice
+of "He-whom-it-was-decidedly-most-healthy-to-obey" would sound up the
+road, commanding instant return to the Sandheap or the High Garden.</p>
+
+<p>So on these occasions Hugh John mostly brought Sir Toady Lion with
+him&mdash;otherwise Arthur George the Sturdy, and at yet other times
+variously denominated Prince Murat, the Old Guard, the mob that was
+scattered with the whiff of grapeshot, and (generally) the whole
+Grand
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> Army of the First Empire. Toady Lion (his own first effort at
+the name of his favourite hero Richard C&oelig;ur-de-Lion) had his
+orders, and with guile and blandishments held Betty in check till the
+last frisk of Agincourt's tail had disappeared round the corner. Then
+Hugh John developed his plans of assault, and was soon swinging on the
+gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Out of the way with you, Betty," he would cry, "or you will get
+hurt&mdash;sure."</p>
+
+<p>For the white gate shut of itself, and you had only to push it open,
+jump on, check it at the proper place on the return journey, and with
+your foot shove off again to have scores and scores of lovely swings.
+Then Betty would go up the avenue and shout for her husband, who was
+the aforesaid crusty old gardener. She would have laid down her life
+for Toady Lion, but by no means even a part of it for Hugh John, which
+was unfair. Old Betty had once been upset by the slam of the gate on a
+windy day, and so was easily intimidated by the shouts of the horseman
+and the appalling motion of his white five-barred charger.</p>
+
+<p>Such bliss, however, was transient, and might have to be expiated in
+various ways&mdash;at best with a slap from the hand of Betty (which was as
+good as nothing at all), at worst, by a visit to father's
+workroom&mdash;which could not be thought upon without a certain sense of
+solemnity, as if Sunday had turned up once too often in the middle of
+the week.</p>
+
+<p>But upon this great day of which I have to tell, Hugh John had been
+honourably digging all the morning in the sand-hole. He had on his
+red
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> coat, which was his most secret pride, and he was devising a
+still more elaborate system of fortification. Bastion and trench,
+scarp and counter-scarp, lunette and ravelenta (a good word), Hugh
+John had made them all, and he was now besieging his own creation with
+the latest thing in artillery, calling "Boom!" when he fired off his
+cannon, and "Bang-whack!" as often as the projectile hit the wall and
+brought down a foot of the noble fortification, lately so laboriously
+constructed and so tenderly patted into shape.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there came a sound which always made the heart of Hugh John
+beat in his side. It was the low thrilling reverberation of the drum.
+He had only time to dash for his cap, which he had filled with sand
+and old nails in order to "be a bomb-shell"; empty it, put it on his
+head, gird on his London sword-with-the-gold-hilt, and fly.</p>
+
+<p>As he ran down the avenue the shrill fifes kept stinging his ears and
+making him feel as if needles were running up and down his back. It
+was at this point that Hugh John had a great struggle with himself.
+Priscilla and Toady Lion were playing at "House" and "Tea-parties"
+under the weeping elm on the front lawn. It was a debasing taste,
+certainly, but after all blood was thicker than water. And&mdash;well, he
+could not bear that they should miss the soldiers. But then, on the
+other hand, if he went back the troops might be past before he reached
+the gate, and Betty, he knew well, would not let him out to run after
+them, and the park wall was high.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In this desperate strait Hugh John called all the resources of
+religion to his aid.</p>
+
+<p>"It would," he said, "be dasht-mean to go off without telling them."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John did not know exactly what "dasht-mean" meant. But he had
+heard his cousin Fred (who was grown up, had been a year at school,
+and wore a tall hat on Sundays) tell how all the fellows said that it
+was better to die-and-rot than to be "dasht-mean"; and also how those
+who in spite of warnings proved themselves "dasht-mean" were sent to a
+place called Coventry&mdash;which from all accounts seemed to be a
+"dasht-mean" locality.</p>
+
+<p>So Hugh John resolved that he would never get sent there, and whenever
+a little thing tugged down in his stomach and told him "not to," Hugh
+John said, "Hang it! I won't be dasht-mean."&mdash;And wasn't.</p>
+
+<p>Grown-ups call these things conscience and religion; but this is how
+it felt to Hugh John, and it answered just as well&mdash;or even better.</p>
+
+<p>So when the stinging surge of distant pipes sent the wild blood
+coursing through his veins, and he felt his face grow cold and prickly
+all over, Napoleon Smith started to run down the avenue. He could not
+help it. He must see the soldiers or die. But all the same <i>Tug-tug</i>
+went the little string remorselessly in his stomach.</p>
+
+<p>"I must see them. I must&mdash;I must!" he cried, arguing with himself and
+trying to drown the inner voice.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tug-tug-tug!</i>" went the string, worse than
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> that which he once put
+round his toe and hung out of the window, for Tom Cannon the
+under-keeper to wake him with at five in the morning to go
+rabbit-ferreting.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John turned towards the house and the weeping elm.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a blooming shame," he said, "and they won't care anyway. But I
+<i>can't</i> be dasht-mean!"</p>
+
+<p>And so he ran with all his might back to the weeping elm, and with a
+warning cry set Prissy and Sir Toady Lion on the alert. Then with
+anxious tumultuous heart, and legs almost as invisible as the
+twinkling spokes of a bicycle, so quickly did they pass one another,
+Hugh John fairly flung himself in the direction of the White Gate.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap02i2.jpg" width="200" height="419" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap03.jpg" width="400" height="237" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">HOW HUGH JOHN BECAME GENERAL NAPOLEON.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap03d.jpg" width="88" height="100" alt="" />
+<b><span class="hide">E</span>VEN</b> dull Betty had heard the music. The White Gate was open, and with
+a wild cry Hugh John sprang through. Betty had a son in the army, and
+her deaf old ears were quickened by the fife and drum.</p>
+
+<p>"Come back, Master Hugh!" she cried, as he passed through and stood on
+the roadside, just as the head of the column, marching easily, turned
+the corner of the White Road and came dancing and undulating towards
+him. Hugh John's heart danced also. It was still going fast with
+running so far; but at sight of the soldiers it took a new movement,
+just like little waves on a lake when they jabble in the wind, so nice
+and funny when you feel it&mdash;tickly too&mdash;down at the bottom of your
+throat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The first who came were soldiers in a dark uniform with very stern,
+bearded officers, who attended finely to discipline, for they were
+about to enter the little town of Edam, which lay just below the white
+gates of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>So intently they marched that no one cast a glance at Hugh John
+standing with his drawn sword, giving the salute which his friend
+Sergeant Steel had taught him as each company passed. Not that Hugh
+John cared, or even knew that they did not see him. They were the
+crack volunteer regiment of the Grey City beyond the hills, and their
+standard of efficiency was something tremendous.</p>
+
+<p>Then came red-coats crowned with helmets, red-coats tipped with
+Glengarry bonnets, and one or two brass bands of scattering volunteer
+regiments. Hugh John saluted them all. No one paid the least attention
+to him. He did not indeed expect any one to notice him&mdash;a small dusty
+boy with a sword too big for him standing at the end of the road under
+the shadow of the elms. Why should these glorious creations deign to
+notice him&mdash;shining blades, shouldered arms, flashing bayonets, white
+pipe-clayed belts? Were they not as gods, knowing good and evil?</p>
+
+<p>But all the same he saluted every one of them impartially as they
+came, and the regiments swung past unregarding, dust-choked, and
+thirsty.</p>
+
+<p>Then at last came the pipes and the waving tartans. Something cracked
+in Hugh John's throat, and he gave a little cry, so that his old
+nurse, Janet Sheepshanks, anxious for his welfare,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> came to take him
+away. But he struck at her&mdash;his own dear Janet&mdash;and fled from her
+grasp to the other side of the road, where he was both safer and
+nearer to the soldiers. Swinging step, waving plumes, all in review
+order on came the famous regiment, every man stepping out with a
+trained elasticity which went to the boy's heart. Thus and not
+otherwise the Black Watch followed their pipers. Hugh John gave a long
+sigh when they had passed, and the pipes dulled down the dusky glade.</p>
+
+<p>Then came more volunteers, and yet more and more. Would they never
+end? And ever the sword of Hugh John Picton flashed to the salute, and
+his small arm waxed weary as it rose and fell.</p>
+
+<p>Then happened the most astonishing thing in the world, the greatest
+event of Hugh John's life. For there came to his ear a new sound, the
+clatter of cavalry hoofs. A bugle rang out, and Hugh John's eyes
+watched with straining eagerness the white dust rise and swirl behind
+the columns. Perhaps&mdash;who knows?&mdash;this was his reward for not being
+dasht-mean! But now Hugh John had forgotten Prissy and Toady Lion,
+father and nurse alike, heaven, earth&mdash;and everything else. There was
+no past for him. He was the soldier of all time. His dusty red coat
+and his flashing sword were the salute of the universal spirit of man
+to the god of war&mdash;also other fine things of which I have no time to
+write.</p>
+
+<p>For the noble grey horses, whose predecessors Napoleon had watched so
+wistfully at Waterloo, came trampling along, tossing their heads with
+an
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> obvious sense of their own worth as a spectacle. Hugh John paled
+to the lips at sight of them, but drew himself more erect than ever.
+He had seen foot-soldiers and volunteers before, but never anything
+like this.</p>
+
+<p>On they came, a fine young fellow leading them, sitting carelessly on
+the noblest charger of all. Perhaps he was kindly by nature. Perhaps
+he had a letter from his sweetheart in his breastpocket. Perhaps&mdash;but
+it does not matter, at any rate he was young and happy, as he sat
+erect, leading the "finest troop in the finest regiment in the world."
+He saw the small dusty boy in the red coat under the elm-trees. He
+marked his pale twitching face, his flashing eye, his erect carriage,
+his soldierly port. The fate of Hugh John stood on tiptoe. He had
+never seen any being so glorious as this. He could scarce command
+himself to salute. But though he trembled in every limb, and his under
+lip "wickered" strangely, the hand which held the sword was steady,
+and went through the beautiful movements of the military salute which
+Sergeant Steel of the Welsh Fusiliers had taught him, with exactness
+and decorum.</p>
+
+<p>The young officer smiled. His own hand moved to the response almost
+involuntarily, as if Hugh John had been one of his own troopers.</p>
+
+<p>The boy's heart stood still. Could this thing be? A real soldier had
+saluted him!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap03i.jpg" width="400" height="541" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;IT COULD NOT HAVE BEEN BETTER DONE FOR A
+FIELD-MARSHAL.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But there was something more marvellous yet to come. A sweet spring of
+good deeds welled up in that young officer's breast. Heaven speed him
+(as doubtless it will) in his wooing, and make
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+him ere his time a
+general, with the Victoria Cross upon his breast. But though (as I
+hope) he rise to be Commander-in-Chief, he will never do a prettier
+action than that day, when the small grimy boy stood under the
+elm-trees at the end of the avenue of Windy Standard. This is what he
+did. He turned about in his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Attention, men, draw swords!</i>" he cried, and his voice rang like a
+trumpet, so grand it was&mdash;at least so Hugh John thought.</p>
+
+<p>There came a glitter of unanimous steel as the swords flashed into
+line. The horses tossed their heads at the stirring sound, and jingled
+their accoutrements as the men gathered their bridle reins up in their
+left hands.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eyes right! Carry swords!</i>" came again the sharp command.</p>
+
+<p>And every blade made an arc of glittering light as it came to the
+salute. It could not have been better done for a field-marshal.</p>
+
+<p>No fuller cup of joy was ever drunk by mortal. The tears welled up in
+Hugh John's eyes as he stood there in the pride of the honour done to
+him. To be knighted was nothing to this. He had been acknowledged as a
+soldier by the greatest soldier there. Hugh John did not doubt that
+this glorious being was he who had led the Greys in the charge at
+Waterloo. Who else could have done that thing?</p>
+
+<p>He was no longer a little dusty boy. He stood there glorified,
+ennobled. The world was almost too full.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eyes front! Slope swords!</i>" rang the words once more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The pageant passed by. Only the far drum-throb came back as he stood
+speechless and motionless, till his father rode up on his way home,
+and seeing the boy asked him what he was doing there. Then for all
+reply a little clicking hitch came suddenly in his throat. He wanted
+to laugh, but somehow instead the tears ran down his cheeks, and he
+gasped out a word or two which sounded like somebody else's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not hurt, father," he said, "I'm not crying. It was only that the
+Scots Greys saluted me. And I <i>can't</i> help it, father. It goes
+<i>tick-tick</i> in my throat, and I can't keep it back. But I'm not
+crying, father! I'm not indeed!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the stern man gathered the great soldier up and set him across
+his saddle&mdash;for Hugh John was alone, the others having long ago gone
+back with Janet Sheepshanks. And his father did not say anything, but
+let him sit in front with the famous sword in his hands which had
+brought about such strange things. And even thus rode our hero
+home&mdash;Hugh John Picton no more, but rather General Napoleon Smith; nor
+shall his rank be questioned on any army roster of strong unblenching
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p>But late that night Hugh John stole down the hushed avenue, his bare
+feet pattering through the dust which the dew was making cool. He
+climbed the gate and stood under the elm, with the wind flapping his
+white nightgown like a battle flag. Then clasping his hands, he took
+the solemn binding oath of his religion, "<i>The Scots Greys saluted me.
+May I die-and-rot if ever I am dasht-mean again!</i>"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap04.jpg" width="400" height="239" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">CASTLE PERILOUS.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap04d.jpg" width="92" height="100" alt="" />
+<b><span class="hide">I</span>N</b> one corner of the property of Hugh John's father stood an ancient
+castle&mdash;somewhat doubtfully of it, however, for it was claimed as
+public property by the adjoining abbey town, now much decayed and
+fallen from its high estate, but desirous of a new lease of life as a
+tourist and manufacturing centre. The castle and the abbey had for
+centuries been jealous neighbours, treacherous friends, embattled
+enemies according to the fluctuating power of those who possessed
+them. The lord of the castle harried the abbot and his brethren. The
+abbot promptly retaliated by launching, in the name of the Church, the
+dread ban of excommunication against the freebooter.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> The castle
+represented feudal rights, the abbey popular and ecclesiastical
+authority.</p>
+
+<p>And so it was still. Mr. Picton Smith had, indeed, only bought the
+property a few years before the birth of our hero; but, among other
+encumbrances, he had taken over a lawsuit with the town concerning the
+castle, which for years had been dragging its slow length along. Edam
+Abbey was a show-place of world-wide repute, and the shillings of the
+tourist constituted a very important item in the finances of the
+overburdened municipality. If the Council and magistrates of the good
+town of Edam could add the Castle of Windy Standard to their
+attractions, the resultant additional sixpence a head would go far
+towards making up the ancient rental of the town parks, which now let
+for exactly half of their former value.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Picton Smith was not minded thus tamely to hand over an
+ancient fortress, secured to him by deed and charter. He declared at
+once that he would resist the claims of the town by every means in his
+power. He would, however, refuse right-of-way to no respectable
+sightseer. The painter, all unchallenged, might set up his easel
+there, the poet meditate, even the casual wanderer in search of the
+picturesque and romantic, have free access to these gloomy and
+desolate halls. The townspeople would be at liberty to conduct their
+friends and visitors thither. But Mr. Smith was resolved that the
+ancient fortalice of the Windy Standard should not be made a vulgar
+show. Sandwich papers and ginger-beer bottles would not be permitted
+to profane the green
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> sward of the courtyard, across which had so
+often ridden all the chivalry of the dead Lorraines.</p>
+
+<p>"Those who want sixpenny shows will find plenty at Edam Fair," was Mr.
+Picton Smith's ultimatum. And when he had once committed himself, like
+most of his stalwart name, Mr. Smith had the reputation of being very
+set in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>But in spite of this the town asserted its right-of-way through the
+courtyard. A footpath was said to have passed that way by which
+persons might go to and fro to kirk and market.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt a footpath passed through my dining-room a few
+centuries ago," said Mr. Smith, "but that does not compel me to keep
+my front and back doors open for all the rabble of Edam to come and go
+at their pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>And forthwith he locked his lodge gates and bought the largest mastiff
+he could obtain. The castle stood on an island rather more than a mile
+long, a little below the mansion house. A wooden bridge led over the
+deeper, narrower, and more rapid branch of the Edam River from the
+direction of the abbey and town. Across the broader and shallower
+branch there could be traced, from the house of Windy Standard, the
+remains of an ancient causeway. This, in the place where the stream
+was to be crossed, had become a series of stepping-stones over which
+Hugh John and Priscilla could go at a run (without falling in and
+wetting themselves more than once in three or four times), but which
+still constituted an impregnable barrier to the short fat legs of
+Toady Lion&mdash;who usually stood on the shore and proclaimed his
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> woes to
+the world at large till somebody carried him over and deposited him on
+the castle island.</p>
+
+<p>Affairs were in this unsettled condition when, at twelve years of age,
+Hugh John ceased to be Hugh John, and became, without, however, losing
+his usual surname of Smith, one of the august and imperial race of the
+Buonapartes.</p>
+
+<p>It was a clear June evening, the kind of night when the whole
+landscape seems to have been newly swept, washed down, and generally
+spring-cleaned. All nature spoke peace to Janet Sheepshanks,
+housekeeper, nurse, and general responsible female head of the house
+of Windy Standard, when a procession came towards her across the
+stepping-stones over the broad Edam water from the direction of the
+castle island. Never had such a disreputable sight presented itself to
+the eyes of Janet Sheepshanks. At once douce and severe, sharp-tongued
+and covertly affectionate, she represented the authority of a father
+who was frequently absent from them, and the memory of a dead mother
+which remained to the three children in widely different degrees. To
+Priscilla her mother was a loving being, gracious alike by the tender
+sympathy of her voice and by the magic of a touch which healed all
+childish troubles with the kiss of peace upon the place "to make it
+well." To Hugh John she had been a confidant to whom he could rush,
+eager and dishevelled, with the tale of the glorious defeat of some
+tin enemy (for even in those prehistoric days Hugh John had been a
+soldier), and who, smoothing back his ruffled hair, was prepared to
+join as eagerly as
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> himself in all his tiny triumphs. But to Toady
+Lion, though he hushed the shrill persistence of his treble to a
+reverent murmur when he talked of "muvver," she was only an
+imagination, fostered mostly by Priscilla&mdash;his notion of motherhood
+being taken from his rough-handed loving Janet Sheepshanks; while the
+tomb in the village churchyard was a place to which he had no desire
+to accompany his mother, and from whose gloomy precincts he sought to
+escape as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap05.jpg" width="400" height="269" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE DECLARATION OF WAR.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap05d.jpg" width="94" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">B</span>UT,</b> meanwhile, Janet Sheepshanks stands at the end of the
+stepping-stones, and Janet is hardly a person to keep waiting anywhere
+near the house of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>Over the stepping-stones came as leader Priscilla Smith, her head
+thrown back, straining in every nerve with the excitement of carrying
+Sir Toady Lion, whose scratched legs and shoeless feet dangled over
+the stream. Immediately beneath her, and wading above the knee in the
+rush of the water, there staggered through the shallows Hugh John,
+supporting his sister with voice and hand&mdash;or, as he would have said,
+"boosting her up" whenever she swayed riverward with her burden,
+pushing her behind when she hesitated, and running before to
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> offer
+his back as an additional stepping-stone when the spaces were wide
+between the boulders.</p>
+
+<p>Janet Sheepshanks waited grimly for her charges on the bank, and her
+eyes seemed to deceive her, words to fail her, as the children came
+nearer. Never had such a sight been seen near the decent house of
+Windy Standard. Miss Priscilla and her pinafore were represented by a
+ragged tinkler's lass with a still more ragged frill about her neck.
+Her cheeks and hands were as variously scratched as if she had fallen
+into a whole thicket of brambles. Her face, too, was pale, and the
+tatooed places showed bright scarlet against the whiteness of her
+skin. She had lost a shoe, and her dress was ripped to the knee by a
+great ragged triangular tear, which flapped wet about her ankles as
+she walked.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Toady Lion was somewhat less damaged, but still showed manifold
+signs of rough usage. His lace collar, the pride of Janet Sheepshanks'
+heart, was torn nearly off his shoulders, and now hung jagged and
+unsightly down his back. Several buttons of his well-ordered tunic
+were gone, and as to his person he was mud as far above the knees as
+could be seen without turning him upside down.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap05i.jpg" width="400" height="465" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;NO WONDER THAT JANET SHEEPSHANKS AWAITED THIS SORRY PROCESSION WITH A GRIM TIGHTENING OF THE LIPS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But Hugh John&mdash;words are vain to describe the plight of Hugh John. One
+eye was closed, and began to be discoloured, taking on above the
+cheekbone the shot green and purple of a half-ripe plum. His lip was
+cut, and a thin thread of scarlet stealing down his brow told of a
+broken head. What remained of his garments presented a ruin
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+more complete, if less respectable, than the ancient castle of the Windy
+Standard. Neither shoe nor shoe-string, neither stocking nor collar,
+remained intact upon him. On his bare legs were the marks of cruel
+kicks, and for ease of transport he carried the <i>d&eacute;bris</i> of his jacket
+under his arm. He had not the remotest idea where his cap had gone to.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder that Janet Sheepshanks awaited this sorry procession with a
+grim tightening of the lips, or that her hand quivered with the desire
+of punishment, even while her kind and motherly heart yearned to be
+busy repairing damages and binding up the wounded. Of this feeling,
+however, it was imperative that for the present, in the interests of
+discipline, she should show nothing.</p>
+
+<p>It was upon Priscilla, as the eldest in years and senior responsible
+officer in charge, that Janet first turned the vials of her wrath.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, Priscilla Smith, but ye are a ba-a-ad, bad lassie. Ye should ha'e
+your bare back slashit wi' nettles! Where ha'e ye been, and what ha'e
+ye done to these twa bairns? Ye shall be marched straight to your
+father, and if he doesna gar ye loup when ye wad raither stand still,
+and claw where ye are no yeuky, he will no be doing his duty to the
+Almichty, and to your puir mither that's lang syne in her restin'
+grave in the kirk-yaird o' Edom."</p>
+
+<p>By which fervent address in her native tongue, Janet meant that Mr.
+Smith would be decidedly spoiling the child if on this occasion he
+spared the rod. Janet could speak good enough formal English when she
+chose, for instance to her master on Sabbath, or to the minister on
+visitation days;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> but whenever she was excited she returned to that
+vigorous ancient Early English which some miscall a dialect, and of
+which she had a noble and efficient command.</p>
+
+<p>To Janet's attack, Priscilla answered not a word either of explanation
+or apology. She recognised that the case had gone far beyond that. She
+only set Sir Toady Lion on his feet, and bent down to brush the mud
+from his tunic with her usual sisterly gesture. Janet Sheepshanks
+thrust her aside without ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"My wee man," she said, "what have they done to you?"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion began volubly, and in his usual shrill piping voice, to
+make an accusation against certain bad boys who had "hit him," and
+"hurted him," and "kicked him." And now when at last he was safely
+delivered and lodged in the well-proven arms of Janet Sheepshanks his
+tears flowed apace, and made clean furrows down the woebegone
+grubbiness of his face.</p>
+
+<p>Priscilla walked by Janet's side, white and silent, nerving herself
+for the coming interview. At ordinary times Janet Sheepshanks was
+terrible enough, and her word law in all the precincts of Windy
+Standard. But Priscilla knew that she must now face the anger of her
+father; and so, with this in prospect, the railing accusations of her
+old nurse scarcely so much as reached her ears.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John, stripped of all military pomp, limped behind&mdash;a short, dry,
+cheerless sob shaking him at intervals. But in reality this was more
+the protest of ineffectual anger than any concession to unmanly
+weakness.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap06.jpg" width="400" height="215" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">FIRST BLOOD.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap06d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>EN</b> minutes later, and without, as Jane Sheepshanks said, "so muckle
+as a sponge or a brush-and-comb being laid upon them," the three stood
+before their father. Silently Janet had introduced them, and now as
+silently she stood aside to listen to the evidence&mdash;and, as she
+put it, "keep the maister to his duty, and mind him o' his
+responsibilities to them that's gane."</p>
+
+<p>Janet Sheepshanks never forgot that she had been maid for twenty years
+to the dead mother of the children, nor that she had received "the
+bits o' weans" at her hand as a dying charge. She considered herself,
+with some reason, to be the direct representative of the missing
+parent, and referred to Priscilla, Toady Lion, and Hugh John as "my
+bairns," just as, in moments of affection, she would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> still speak to
+them of "my bonnie lassie your mither," as if the dead woman were
+still one of her flock.</p>
+
+<p>For a full minute Mr. Picton Smith gazed speechless at the spectacle
+before him. He had been writing something that crinkled his brow and
+compressed his lips, and at the patter of the children's feet in the
+passage outside his door, as they ceremoniously marshalled themselves
+to enter, he had turned about on his great office chair with a smile
+of expectation and anticipation. The door opened, and Janet
+Sheepshanks pushed in first Sir Toady Lion, still voluble and calling
+for vengeance on the "bad, bad boys at the castle that had striked him
+and hurted his dear Prissy." Priscilla herself stood white-lipped and
+dumb, and through the awful silence pulsed the dry, recurrent, sobbing
+catch in the throat of Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Picton Smith was a stern man, whose great loss had caused him to
+shut up the springs of his tenderness from the world. But they flowed
+the sweeter and the rarer underneath; and though his grave and
+dignified manner daunted his children on the occasion of any notable
+evil-doing, they had no reason to be afraid of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is the meaning of this?" he said, his face falling into a
+greyer and graver silence at the sound of Hugh John's sobs, and
+turning to Priscilla for explanation.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Sir Toady Lion was pursuing the subject with his usual
+shrill alacrity.</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet, sir," said his father. "I will hear you all one by one, but
+let Priscilla begin&mdash;she is the eldest."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We went to the castle after dinner, over by the stepping-stones,"
+began Priscilla, fingering nervously the frill of the torn pinafore
+about her throat, "and when we got to the castle we found out that our
+pet lamb Donald had come after us by the ford; and he was going
+everywhere about the castle, trying to rub his bell off his neck on
+the gate-posts and on the stones at the corners."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I stooded on a rock, and Donald he butted me over behind!"
+came the voice of Sir Toady Lion in shrill explanation of his personal
+share in the adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"And then we played on the grass in the inside of the castle. Toady
+Lion and I were plaiting daisy-chains and garlands for Donald, and
+Hugh John was playing at being the Prisoner of Chillyon: he had tied
+himself to the gate-post with a rope."</p>
+
+<p>"'Twasn't," muttered Hugh John, who was a stickler for accuracy; "it
+was a plough-chain!"</p>
+
+<p>"And it rattled," added Sir Toady Lion, not to be out of the running.</p>
+
+<p>"And just when we were playing nicely, a lot of horrid boys from the
+town came swarming and clambering in. They had run over the bridge and
+climbed the gate, and then they began calling us names and throwing
+mud. So Hugh John said he would tell on them."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't," interrupted Hugh John indignantly. "I said I'd knock the
+heads off them if they didn't stop and get out; and they only laughed
+and said things about father. So I hit one of them with a stone."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then," continued Priscilla, gaining confidence from a certain curious
+spark of light which began to burn steadily in her father's eyes,
+"after Hugh John threw the stone, the horrid boys all came and said
+that they would kill us, and that we had no business there anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"They frowed me down the well, and I went splass! Yes, indeedy!"
+interrupted Toady Lion, who had imagination.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Donald, our black pet lamb, that is, came into the court, and
+they all ran away after him and caught him. First he knocked down one
+or two of them, and then they put a rope round his neck and began to
+take rides on his back."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and he bleated and 'kye-kyed' just feeful!" whimpered Toady
+Lion, beginning to weep all over again at the remembrance.</p>
+
+<p>But the Smith of the imperial race only clenched his torn hands and
+looked at his bruised knuckles.</p>
+
+<p>"So Hugh John said he would kill them if they did not let Donald go,
+and that he was a soldier. But they only laughed louder, and one of
+them struck him across the lip with a stick&mdash;I know him, he's the
+butch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Pris!" shouted Hugh John, with sudden fierceness, "it's
+dasht-mean to tell names."</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet, sir," said his father severely; "let your sister finish her
+story in her own way."</p>
+
+<p>But for all that there was a look of some pride on his face. At that
+moment Mr. Picton Smith was not sorry to have Hugh John for a son.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Priscilla, who had no such scruples<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> as to telling on her
+enemies, "I won't tell if you say not. But that was the boy who hurt
+Donald the worst."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I smashed him for that!" muttered Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"And then when Hugh John saw them dragging Donald away and heard him
+bleating&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And 'kye-kying' big, big tears, big as cherries!" interjected Toady
+Lion, who considered every narrative incomplete to which he did not
+contribute.</p>
+
+<p>"He was overcome with rage and anger"&mdash;at this point Priscilla began
+to talk by the book, the dignity of the epic tale working on her&mdash;"and
+he rushed upon them fearlessly, though they were ten to one; and they
+all struck him and kicked him. But Hugh John fought like a lion."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, like Wichard Toady Lion," cried the namesake of that hero, "and
+I helpted him and bited a bad boy on the leg, and didn't let go though
+he kicked and hurted feeful! Yes, indeedy!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I went to their assistance and fought as Hugh John showed me.
+And&mdash;I forget the rest," said Priscilla, her epic style suddenly
+failing her. Also she felt she must begin to cry very soon, now the
+strain was over. So she made haste to finish. "But it was dreadful,
+and they swore, and said they would cut Donald's throat. And one boy
+took out a great knife and said he knew how to do it. He was the
+butch&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Pris! Now don't you dare!" shouted Hugh John, in his most
+warning tones.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And when Hugh John rushed in to stop him, he hit him over the head
+with a stick, and Hugh John fell down. And, oh! I thought he was dead,
+and I didn't know what to do" (Priscilla was crying in good earnest
+now); "and I ran to him and tried to lift him up. But I could not&mdash;he
+was so wobbly and soft."</p>
+
+<p>"I bited the boy's leg. It was dood. I bited hard!" interrupted Toady
+Lion, whose mission had been vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"And when I looked up again they had taken away p-p-poor Donald,"
+Priscilla went on spasmodically between her tears, "and I think they
+killed him because he belonged to you, and&mdash;they said he had no
+business there! Oh, they were such horrid cruel boys, and much bigger
+than us. And I can't bear that Don should have his throat cut. I was
+promised that he should never be sold for mutton, but only clipped for
+wool. And he had such a pretty throat to hang daisy-chains on, and was
+such a dear, dear thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they would dare to kill him," said Mr. Smith gravely;
+"besides, they could not lift him over the gate. I will send at once
+and see. In fact I will go myself!"</p>
+
+<p>There was only anger against the enemy now, and no thought of
+chastisement of his own in the heart of Mr. Picton Smith. He was
+rising to reach out his hand to his riding-whip, when General Napoleon
+Smith, who, like most great makers of history, had taken little part
+in the telling of it, created a diversion which put all thought of
+immediate action out of his father's head. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> been standing up,
+shoulders squared, arms dressed to his side, head erect, as he had
+seen Sergeant Steel do when he spoke to his Colonel. Once or twice he
+had swayed slightly, but the heart of the Buonapartes, which beat
+bravely in his bosom, brought him up again all standing. Nevertheless
+he grew even whiter and whiter, till, all in a moment, he gave a
+little lurch forward, checked himself, and again looked straight
+before him. Then he sobbed out once suddenly and helplessly, said "I
+couldn't help getting beaten, father&mdash;there were too many of them!"
+and fell over all of a piece on the hearthrug.</p>
+
+<p>At which his father's face grew very still and angry as he gathered
+the great General gently in his arms and carried him upstairs to his
+own little white cot.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap07.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE POOR WOUNDED HUSSAR.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap07d.jpg" width="94" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">I</span>T</b> is small wonder that Mr. Picton Smith was full of anger. His castle
+had been invaded and desecrated, his authority as proprietor defied,
+his children insulted and abused. As a magistrate he felt bound to
+take notice both of the outrage and of the theft of his property. As a
+father he could not easily forget the plight in which his three
+children had appeared before him.</p>
+
+<p>But in his schemes of vengeance he reckoned without that distinguished
+military officer, General-Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith. For this
+soldier had been promoted on his bed of sickness. He had read
+somewhere that in his profession (as in most others) success quite
+often bred envy and neglect, but that to the unsuccessful, promotion
+and honour<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> were sometimes awarded as a sort of consolation
+sweepstakes. So, having been entirely routed and plundered by the
+enemy, it came to Hugh John in the watches of the night&mdash;when, as he
+put it, "his head was hurting like fun" that it was time for him to
+take the final step in his own advancement.</p>
+
+<p>So on the next morning he announced the change in his name and style
+to his army as it filed in to visit him. The army was on the whole
+quite agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm afraid I shall never remember all that, Mr.
+General-Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith!" said Priscilla.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you'd better!" returned the wounded hero, as truculently as he
+could for the bandages and the sticking-plaster, in which he was
+swathed after the fashion of an Egyptian mummy partially unwrapped.</p>
+
+<p>"What a funny smell!" piped Toady Lion. "Do field-marshals <i>all</i> smell
+like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get out, silly!" retorted the wounded officer. "Don't you know that's
+the stuff they rub on the wounded when they have fought bravely?
+That's arnicay!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what do they yub on them when they don't fight bravely?"
+persisted Toady Lion, who had had enough of fighting, and who in his
+heart was resolved that the next time he would "yun away" as hard as
+he could, a state of mind not unusual after the <i>zip-zip</i> of bullets
+is heard for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all they catch them and kick them for being cowards. Then
+they shoot at them till they are dead; and may the Lord have mercy on
+their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> souls! Amen!" said General Smith, mixing things for the
+information and encouragement of Sir Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the children were called out to go and play, and the wounded
+hero was left alone. His head ached so that he could not read. Indeed,
+in any case he could not, for the room was darkened with the intention
+of shielding his damaged eyes from the light. General Napoleon could
+only watch the flies buzzing round and round, and wish in vain that he
+had a fly-flapper at the end of a pole in order to "plop" them, as he
+used to do all over the house in the happy days before Janet
+Sheepshanks discovered what made the walls and windows so horrid with
+dead and dying insects.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; the squashy ones <i>were</i> rather streaky!" had been the words in
+which Hugh John admitted his guilt, after the pole and leathern
+flapper were taken from him and burned in the washhouse fire.</p>
+
+<p>Thus in the semi-darkness Hugh John lay watching the flies with the
+stealthy intentness of a Red Indian scalper on the trail. It was sad
+to lie idly in bed, so bewrapped and swathed that (as he mournfully
+remarked), "if one of the brutes were to settle on your nose, you
+could only wait for him to crawl up, and then snatch at him with your
+left eyelid."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the disabled hero bethought himself of something. First,
+after listening intently so as to be quite sure that "the children"
+were outside the bounds of the house, the wounded general raised
+himself on his elbow. But the effort hurt him so much that
+involuntarily he said "Outch!" and sank back again on the pillow.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Crikey, but don't I smell just!" he muttered, when, after one breath
+of purer air, he sank back into the pool of arnica vapour. "I suppose
+I'll have to howl out for Janet. What a swot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Janet!&mdash;Ja-a-a-a-net!" he shouted, and sighed a sigh of relief to
+find that at least there was one part of him neither bandaged nor
+drowned in arnica.</p>
+
+<p>"Deil tak' the laddie!" cried Janet, who went about her work all day
+with one ear cocked toward the chamber of her brave sick soldier;
+"what service is there in taking the rigging aff the hoose wi' your
+noise? Did ye think I was doon at Edam Cross? What do ye want,
+callant, that ye deafen my auld lugs like that? I never heard sic a
+laddie!"</p>
+
+<p>But General Smith did not answer any of these questions. He well knew
+Janet's tone of simulated anger when she was "putting it on."</p>
+
+<p>"Go and fetch <i>it</i>!" he said darkly.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap07i.jpg" width="300" height="327" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap08.jpg" width="400" height="208" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE FAMILIAR SPIRIT.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap08d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">N</span>OW</b> there was a skeleton in the cupboard of General Napoleon Smith. No
+distinguished family can be respectable without at least one such. But
+that of the new field-marshal was particularly dark and disgraceful.</p>
+
+<p>Very obediently Janet Sheepshanks vanished from the sick-room, and
+presently returned with an oblong parcel, which she handed to the hero
+of battles.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said; "are you sure that the children are out?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are sailing paper boats on the mill-dam," said Janet, going to
+the window to look.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John sighed a sigh. He wished he could sail boats on the
+mill-dam.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope every boat will go down the mill lade, and get mashed in the
+wheel," he said pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Master Hugh!" replied Janet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> Sheepshanks, shaking her head
+at him, but conscious that he was exactly expressing her own mind, if
+she had been lying sick a-bed and had been compelled to listen to some
+other housekeeper jingling keys that once were hers, ransacking her
+sacredest repositories, and keeping in order the menials of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John proceeded cautiously to unwrap his family skeleton.
+Presently from the folds of tissue paper a very aged and battered
+"Sambo" emerged. Now a "Sambo" is a black woolly-haired negro doll of
+the fashion of many years ago. This specimen was dressed in simple and
+airy fashion in a single red shell jacket. As to the rest, he was bare
+and black from head to foot. Janet called him "that horrid object";
+but, nevertheless, he was precious in the eyes of Hugh John, and
+therefore in hers.</p>
+
+<p>Though twelve years of age, he still liked to carry on dark and covert
+intercourse with his ancient "Sambo." In public, indeed, he preached,
+in season and out of season, against the folly and wickedness of
+dolls. No one but a lassie or a "lassie-boy" would do such a thing. He
+laughed at Priscilla for cleaning up her doll's kitchen once a week,
+and for organising afternoon tea-parties for her quiet harem. But
+secretly he would have liked very well to see Sambo sit at that
+bounteous board.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he instructed Toady Lion every day with doctrine and
+reproof that it was "only for girls" to have dolls. And knowing well
+that none of his common repositories were so remote<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> and sacred as
+long to escape Priscilla's unsleeping eye, or the more stormy though
+fitful curiosity of Sir Toady Lion, Hugh John had been compelled to
+take his ancient nurse and ever faithful friend Janet into his
+confidence. So Sambo dwelt in the housekeeper's pantry and had two
+distinct odours. One side of him smelt of paraffin, and the other of
+soft soap, which, to a skilled detective, might have revealed the
+secret of his dark abode.</p>
+
+<p>But let us not do our hero an injustice.</p>
+
+<p>It was not exactly as a doll that General Smith considered Sambo. By
+no means so, indeed. Sometimes he was a distinguished general who came
+to take orders from his chief, sometimes an awkward private who needed
+to be drilled, and then knocked spinning across the floor for
+inattention to orders. For, be it remembered, it was the custom in the
+army of Field-Marshal-General Smith for the Commander-in-Chief to
+drill the recruits with his own voice, and in the by no means
+improbable event of their proving stupid, to knock them endwise with
+his own august hand.</p>
+
+<p>But it was as Familiar Spirit, and in the pursuit of occult
+divination, that General Napoleon most frequently resorted to Sambo.
+He had read all he could find in legend and history concerning that
+gruesomely attractive goblin, clothed all in red, which the wicked
+Lord Soulis kept in an oaken chest in a castle not so far from his own
+father's house of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>And Hugh John saw no reason why Sambo should not be the very one.
+Spirits do not die. It is a known fact that they are fond of their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+former haunts. What, then, could be clearer? Sambo was evidently Lord
+Soulis' Red Imp risen from the dead. Was Sambo not black? The devil
+was black. Did Sambo not wear a red coat? Was not the demon of the
+oaken chest attired in flaming scarlet, when all cautiously he lifted
+the lid at midnight and looked wickedly out upon his master?</p>
+
+<p>Yet the General was conscious that Sambo Soulis was a distinct
+disappointment in the part of familiar spirit. He would sit silent,
+with his head hanging idiotically on one side, when he was asked to
+reveal the deepest secrets of the future, instead of toeing the line
+and doing it. Nor was it recorded in the chronicles of Soulis that the
+original demon of the chest had had his nose "bashed flat" by his
+master, as Hugh John vigorously expressed the damaged appearance of
+his own familiar.</p>
+
+<p>Worse than all, Hugh John had tried to keep Sambo in his rabbit-box.
+But not only did he utterly fail to put his "fearful head, crowned
+with a red night-cap" over the edge of the hutch at the proper
+time&mdash;as, had he been of respectable parentage, he would not have
+failed to do, but, in addition, he developed in his close quarters an
+animal odour so pungent and unprofitable that Janet Sheepshanks
+refused to admit him into the store-cupboard till he had been
+thoroughly fumigated and disinfected. So for a whole week Sambo Soulis
+swung ignominiously by the neck from the clothes line, and Hugh John
+went about in fear of the questioning of the children or of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> the
+confiscation by his father of his well-beloved but somewhat
+unsatisfactory familiar spirit.</p>
+
+<p>It was in order to consult him on a critical point of doctrine and
+practice that Hugh John had now sent for Sambo Soulis.</p>
+
+<p>He propped him up before him against a pillow, on which he sat bent
+forward at an acute angle from the hips, as if ready to pounce upon
+his master and rend him to pieces so soon as the catechism should be
+over.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," said General-Field-Marshal Smith to the oracle,
+"supposing the governor tells me to split on Nipper Donnan, the
+butcher boy, will it be dasht-mean if I do?"</p>
+
+<p>Sambo Soulis, being disturbed by the delicacy of the question or
+perhaps by the wriggling of Hugh John upon his pillow, only lurched
+drivellingly forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit up and answer," cried his master, "or else I'll hike you out of
+that pretty quick, for a silly old owl!"</p>
+
+<p>And with his least bandaged hand he gave Sambo a sound cuff on the
+side of his venerable battered head, before propping him up at a new
+angle with his chin on his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Now speak up, Soulis," said General Smith; "I ask you would it be
+dasht-mean?"</p>
+
+<p>The oracle was understood to joggle his chin and goggle his eyes. He
+certainly did the latter.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," said Soulis' master, as is usual in such cases,
+interpreting the reply oracular according to his liking. "But look
+here, how are we to get back Donald unless we split? Would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> it not be
+all right to split just to get Donald back?"</p>
+
+<p>Sambo Soulis waggled his head again. This time his master looked a
+little more serious.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you are right," he said pensively, "but if it would be
+dasht-mean to split, we must just try to get him back ourselves&mdash;that
+is, if the beasts have not cut his throat, as they said they would."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap09.jpg" width="400" height="253" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">PUT TO THE QUESTION.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap09d.jpg" width="95" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">I</span>N</b> the chaste retirement of his sick room the Field-Marshal had just
+reached this conclusion, when he heard a noise in the hall. There was
+a sound of the gruff unmirthful voices of grown-ups, a scuffling of
+feet, a planting of whips and walking-sticks on the zinc-bottomed
+hall-stand, and then, after a pause which meant drinks, heavy
+footsteps in the passage which led to the hero's chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John snatched up Sambo Soulis and thrust him deep beneath the
+bedclothes, where he could readily push him over the end with his
+toes, if it should chance to be "the doctor-beast" come to uncover him
+and "fool with the bandages." I have said enough to show that the
+General was not only frankly savage in sentiment, but resembled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> his
+great imperial namesake in being grateful only when it suited him.</p>
+
+<p>Before General Napoleon had his toes fairly settled over the back of
+Sambo Soulis' neck, so as to be able to remove him out of harm's way
+on any sudden alarm, the door opened and his father came in, ushering
+two men, the first of whom came forward to the bedside in an easy,
+kindly manner, and held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know me?" he said, giving Hugh John's second sorest hand such
+a squeeze that the wounded hero was glad it was not the very sorest
+one.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied the hero promptly, "you are Sammy Carter's father. I
+can jolly well lick&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John," interrupted his father severely, "remember what you are
+saying to Mr. Davenant Carter."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anyway, I <i>can</i> lick Sammy Carter till he's dumb-sick!"
+muttered the General between his teeth, as he avoided the three pairs
+of eyes that were turned upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let him say just what he likes!" said Mr. Davenant Carter
+jovially. "Sammy is the better of being licked, if that is what the
+boy was going to say. I sometimes try my hand at it myself with some
+success."</p>
+
+<p>The other man who had come in with Mr. Smith was a thick-set fellow of
+middle height, with a curious air of being dressed up in somebody
+else's clothes. Yet they fitted him very well. He wore on his face (in
+addition to a slight moustache) an expression which somehow made Hugh
+John<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> think guiltily of all the orchards he had ever visited along
+with Toady Lion and Sammy Carter's sister Cissy, who was "no end of a
+nice girl" in Hugh John's estimation.</p>
+
+<p>"This, Hugh," said his father, with a little wave of his hand, "is Mr.
+Mant, the Chief Constable of the county. Mr. Carter and he have come
+to ask you a few questions, which you will answer at once."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be dasht-mean!" muttered Napoleon Smith to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" ejaculated Mr. Smith, catching the echo of his son's
+rumble of dissent.</p>
+
+<p>"Only my leg that hurted," said the hypocritical hero of battles.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think we should have the other children here?" said Mr.
+Chief Constable Mant, speaking for the first time in a gruff,
+move-on-there voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," assented Mr. Smith, going to the door. "Janet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>The answer came from immediately behind the door.</p>
+
+<p>The Field-Marshal's brow darkened, or rather it would have done so if
+there had been no white bandages over it. This is the correct
+expression anyhow&mdash;though ordinary brows but seldom behave in this
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Prissy's all right," he thought to himself, "but if that little fool
+Toady Lion&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And he clenched his second sorest hand under the clothes, and kicked
+Sambo Soulis to the foot of the bed in a way which augured but little
+mercy to Sir Toady Lion if, after all his training, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> should turn
+out "dasht-mean" in the hour of trial.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the other two children were pushed in at the door, Toady
+Lion trying a bolt at the last moment, which Janet Sheepshanks easily
+foiled by catching at the slack of his trousers behind, while Prissy
+stood holding her hands primly as if in Sunday-school class. Both
+afforded to the critical eye of Hugh John complete evidence that they
+had only just escaped from the Greater Pain of the comb and soaped
+flannel-cloth of Janet Sheepshanks. Prissy's curls were still wet and
+smoothed out, and Toady Lion was trying in vain to rub the yellow soap
+out of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>So at the headquarters of its general, the army of Windy Standard
+formed up. Sir Toady Lion wished to get within supporting distance of
+Prissy, and accordingly kept snuggling nearer all the time, so that he
+could get a furtive hold of her skirts at awkward places in the
+examination. This he could do the more easily that General
+Field-Marshal Smith was prevented by the bandages over his right eye,
+and also by the projecting edges of the pillow, from seeing Toady
+Lion's left hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Priscilla," began her father, "tell Mr. Davenant Carter and Mr.
+Mant what happened in the castle, and the names of any of the bad boys
+who stole your pet lamb."</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't no lamb&mdash;Donald was a sheep, and he could fight," began Toady
+Lion, without relevance, but with his usual eagerness to hear the
+sound of his own piping voice. In his zeal he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> took a step forward and
+so brought himself on the level of the eye of his general, who from
+the pillow darted upon him a look so freezing that Sir Toady Lion
+instantly fell back into the ranks, and clutched Prissy's skirt with
+such energy as almost to stagger her severe deportment.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said the Chief Constable of Bordershire, "tell me what were the
+names of the assailants."</p>
+
+<p>He was listening to the tale as told by Prissy with his note-book
+ready in his hand, occasionally biting at the butt of the pencil, and
+anon wetting the lead in his mouth, under the mistaken idea that by so
+doing he improved its writing qualities.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," began Prissy, "that they were&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>A-chew!</i>" came from the bed and from under the bandages with a
+sudden burst of sound. Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith had sneezed. That
+was all.</p>
+
+<p>But Prissy started. She knew what it meant. It was the well-known
+signal not to commit herself under examination.</p>
+
+<p>Her father looked round at the open windows.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you catching cold with the draught, Hugh John?" he asked kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have a little cold," said the wily General, who did not
+wish all the windows to be promptly shut.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know all their names, but the one that hurted me was&mdash;&mdash;" began
+Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<p>But who the villain was will never be known, for at that moment the
+bedclothes became violently disturbed immediately in front of Sir
+Toady<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> Lion's nose. A fearful black countenance nodded once at him and
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Black Sambo!" gasped Toady Lion, awed by the terrible appearance, and
+falling back from the place where the wizard had so suddenly appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"What did I understand you to say, little boy?" said Mr. Mant, with
+his pencil on his book.</p>
+
+<p>"Ow&mdash;it was Black Sambo!" Toady Lion almost screamed. Mr. Mant gravely
+noted the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world does he mean?" asked Mr. Mant, casting his eyes
+searchingly from Prissy to General Napoleon and back again.</p>
+
+<p>"He means 'Black Sambo'!" said Prissy, devoting herself strictly to
+facts, and leaving the Chief Constable to his proper business of
+interpreting them.</p>
+
+<p>"What is his other name?" said Mr. Mant.</p>
+
+<p>"Soulis!" said General Smith from the bed.</p>
+
+<p>The three gentlemen looked at each other, smiled, and shook their
+heads.</p>
+
+<p>"What did I tell you?" said Mr. Davenant Carter. "Try as I will, I
+cannot get the simplest thing out of my Sammy and Cissy if they don't
+choose to tell."</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless Mr. Smith, being a sanguine man and with little
+experience of children, tried again.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no black boy in the neighbourhood," said Mr. Smith severely;
+"now tell the truth, children&mdash;at once, when I bid you!"</p>
+
+<p>He uttered the last words in a loud and commanding tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Us is telling the troof, father dear," said Toady Lion, in the
+"coaxy-woaxy" voice which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> he used when he wanted marmalade from Janet
+or a ride on the saddle from Mr. Picton Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the boy had blackened his face to deceive the eye," suggested
+Mr. Mant, with the air of one familiar from infancy with the tricks
+and devices of the evil-minded of all ages.</p>
+
+<p>"Was the ringleader's face blackened?&mdash;Answer at once!" said Mr. Smith
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p>The General extracted his bruised and battered right hand from under
+the clothes and looked at it.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," he said, "leastways some has come off on my knuckles!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davenant Carter burst into a peal of jovial mirth.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I tell you?&mdash;It isn't a bit of use badgering children when
+they don't want to tell. Let's go over to the castle."</p>
+
+<p>And with that the three gentlemen went out, while Napoleon Smith,
+Prissy, and Sir Toady Lion were left alone.</p>
+
+<p>The General beckoned them to his bedside with his nose&mdash;quite an easy
+thing to do if you have the right kind of nose, which Hugh John had.</p>
+
+<p>"Now look here," he said, "if you'd told, I'd have jolly well
+flattened you when I got up. 'Tisn't our business to tell p'leecemen
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"That wasn't a p'leeceman," said Sir Toady Lion, "hadn't no shiny
+buttons."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the worst kind," said the General in a low, hissing whisper;
+"all the same you stood to it like bricks, and now I'm going to get
+well and begin on the campaign at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you be greedy-teeth and eat it all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> yourself!" interjected
+Toady Lion, who thought that the campaign was something to eat, and
+that it sounded good.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?" said Prissy, who had a great belief in the
+executive ability of her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"I know their secret hold," said General-Field-Marshal Smith grandly,
+"and in the hour of their fancied security we will fall upon them
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And what?" gasped Prissy and Toady Lion together, awaiting the
+revelation of the horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Destroy them!" said General Smith, in a tone which was felt by all
+parties to be final.</p>
+
+<p>He laid himself back on his pillow and motioned them haughtily away.
+Prissy and Sir Toady Lion retreated on tiptoe, lest Janet should catch
+them and send them to the parlour&mdash;Prissy to read her chapter, and her
+brother along with her to keep him out of mischief.</p>
+
+<p>And so the great soldier was left to his meditations in the darkened
+hospital chamber.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap10.jpg" width="400" height="254" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">A SCOUTING ADVENTURE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap10d.jpg" width="98" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">G</span>ENERAL SMITH</b>, having now partially recovered, was mustering his
+forces and arranging his plans of campaign. He had spoken no hasty
+word when he boasted that he knew the secret haunt of the robbers.
+For, some time before, during a brief but glorious career as a pirate,
+he had been brought into connection with Nipper Donnan, the strongest
+butcher's boy of the town, and the ringleader in all mischief,
+together with Joe Craig, Nosie Cuthbertson, and Billy M'Robert, his
+ready followers.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John had once been a member of the Comanche Cowboys, as Nipper
+Donnan's band was styled; but a disagreement about the objects of
+attack had hastened a rupture, and the affair<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> of the castle was but
+the last act in a hostility long latent. In fact the war was always
+simmering, and was ready to boil over on the slightest provocation.
+For when Hugh John found that his father's orchards, his father's
+covers and hencoops were to be the chief prey (being safer than the
+farmers' yards, where there were big dogs always loose, and the town
+streets, where "bobbies" mostly congregated), he struck. He reflected
+that one day all these things would belong to himself. He would share
+with Prissy and Sir Toady Lion, of course; but still mainly they would
+belong to him. Why then plunder them now? The argument was utilitarian
+but sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>Though he did not mention the fact to Prissy or Sir Toady Lion, Hugh
+John was perfectly well acquainted with the leaders in the fray at the
+castle. He knew also that there were motives for the enmity of the
+Comanche Cowboys other and deeper than the town rights to the
+possession of the Castle of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>It was night when Hugh John cautiously pushed up the sash of his
+window and looked out. A few stars were high up aloft wandering
+through the grey-blue fields of the summer night, as it were
+listlessly and with their hands in their pockets. A corn-crake cried
+in the meadow down below, steadily, remorselessly, like the aching of
+a tooth. A white owl passed the window with an almost noiseless whiff
+of fluffy feathers. Hugh John sniffed the cool pungent night smell of
+the dew on the near wet leaves and the distant mown grass. It always
+went to his head a little, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> was the only thing which made him
+regret that he was to be a soldier. Whenever he smelt it, he wanted to
+be an explorer of far-off lands, or an honest poacher&mdash;even a
+gamekeeper might do, in case the other vocations proved unattainable.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John got out of the window slowly, leaving Sir Toady Lion asleep
+and the door into Prissy's room wide open. He dropped easily and
+lightly upon the roof of the wash-house, and, steadying himself upon
+the tiles, he slid down till he heard C&aelig;sar, the black Newfoundland,
+stir in his kennel. Then he called him softly, so that he might not
+bark. He could not take him with him to-night, for though C&aelig;sar was
+little more than a puppy his step was like that of a cow, and when
+released he went blundering end on through the woods like a festive
+avalanche. Hugh John's father, for reasons of his own, persisted in
+calling him "The Potwalloping Elephant."</p>
+
+<p>So, having assured himself that C&aelig;sar would not bark, the boy dropped
+to the ground, taking the roof of the dog-kennel on the way. C&aelig;sar
+stirred, rolled himself round, and came out breathing hard, and
+thump-thumping Hugh John's legs with his thick tail, with distinctly
+audible blows.</p>
+
+<p>Then when he understood that he was not to be taken, he sat down at
+the extremity of his chain and regarded his master wistfully through
+the gloom with his head upon one side; and as Hugh John took his way
+down the avenue, C&aelig;sar moaned a little, intoning his sense of injury
+and disappointment as the parson does a litany.</p>
+
+<p>At the first turn of the road Hugh John had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> just time to dart aside
+into the green, acrid-scented, leathery-leaved shrubbery, where he lay
+crouched with his hands on his knees and his head thrust forward,
+while Tom the keeper went slowly by with his arm about Jane
+Housemaid's waist.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap10i.jpg" width="400" height="345" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;WAIT TILL THE NEXT TIME YOU WON&#39;T LEND ME THE FERRET, TOM CANNON! O-HO, JANE HOUSEMAID, WILL YOU TELL MY FATHER THE NEXT TIME I TAKE YOUR DUST SCOOP?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" chuckled Hugh John; "wait till the next time you won't lend me
+the ferret, Tom Cannon! O-ho, Jane Housemaid, will you tell my father
+the next time I take your dust scoop out to the sand-hole to help dig
+trenches? I think not!"</p>
+
+<p>And Hugh John hugged himself in his pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> at having a new weapon
+so admirably double-barrelled. He looked upon the follies of love, as
+manifested in the servants' hall and upon the outskirts of the
+village, as so much excellent material by which a wise man would not
+fail to profit. Janet Sheepshanks was very severe on such
+delinquencies, and his father&mdash;well, Hugh John felt that Tom Cannon
+would not wish to appear before his master in such a connection. He
+had a vague remembrance of a certain look he had once seen on his
+father's face when Allan Chestney, the head-keeper, came out from Mr.
+Picton Smith's workroom with these words ringing in his ear, "Now,
+sir, you will do as I tell you, or I will give you a character&mdash;<i>but</i>,
+such a character as you will carry through the world with you, and
+which will be buried with you when you die."</p>
+
+<p>Allan was now married to Jemima, who had once been cook at the house
+of Windy Standard. Hugh John went over to their cottage often to eat
+her delicious cakes; and when Allan came in from the woods, his wife
+ordered him to take off his dirty boots before he entered her clean
+kitchen. Then Allan Chestney would re-enter and play submissively and
+furtively with Patty Pans, their two-year-old child, shifting his
+chair obediently whenever Cook Jemima told him. But all the same, Hugh
+John felt dimly that these things would not have happened, save for
+the look on his father's face when Allan Chestney went in to see him
+that day in the grim pine-boarded workroom.</p>
+
+<p>So, much lightened in his mind by his discovery, Hugh John took his
+way down the avenue. At<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> the foot of it, and before he came to the
+locked white gate and the cottage of Betty, he turned aside through a
+copse, over a little green patch of sward on which his feet slid
+smooth as velvet. A hare sat on the edge of this, with her fore-feet
+in the air. She was for the moment so astonished at Hugh John's
+appearance that it was an appreciable period of time before she
+turned, and with a quick, sidelong rush disappeared into the wood. He
+could hear the soughing rush of the river below him, which took
+different keys according to the thickness of the tree copses which
+were folded about it; now singing gaily through the thin birches and
+rowans; anon humming more hoarsely through the alders; again rustling
+and whispering mysteriously through the grey shivery poplars; and,
+last of all, coming up, dull and sullen, through the heavy oak woods,
+whose broad leaves cover all noises underneath them as a blanket
+muffles speech.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John skirted the river till he came to the stepping-stones, which
+he crossed with easy confidence. He knew them&mdash;high, low, Jack, and
+game, like the roofs of his father's outhouses. He could just as
+easily have gone across blindfold.</p>
+
+<p>Then he made his way over the wide, yellowish-grey spaces of the
+castle island, avoiding the copses of willow and dwarf birch, and the
+sandy-bottomed "bunkers," which ever and anon gleamed up before him
+like big tawny eyes out of the dusky grey-green of the short grass.
+After a little the walls of the old castle rose grimly before him, and
+he could hear the starlings scolding one another<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> sleepily high up in
+the crevices. A black-cap piped wistfully among the sedges of the
+watermarsh. Hugh John had often heard that the ruin was haunted, and
+certainly he always held his breath as he passed it. But now he was on
+duty, and, if need had been, he would that night have descended to the
+deepest dungeon, and faced a full Banquo-board of blood-boltered
+ghosts.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap11.jpg" width="400" height="272" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">ENEMY'S COUNTRY.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap11d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">H</span>E</b> presently came to the wooden bridge and crossed it. He was now on
+the outskirts of the town, and in enemy's country. So, more from
+etiquette than precaution, he took the shelter of a wall, glided
+through a plantation, among the withy roots of which his foot
+presently caught in a brass "grin," or rabbit's snare. Hugh John
+grubbed it up gratefully and pocketed it. He had no objections
+whatever to spoiling the Egyptians.</p>
+
+<p>He was now in butcher Donnan's pastures, where many fore-doomed sheep,
+in all the bliss of ignorance, waited their turns to be made into
+mutton. Very anxiously Hugh John scrutinised each one. He wandered
+round and round till he had made certain that Donald was not there.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the pasture were certain black-pitched wooden sheds set
+in a square, with a little yard like a church pew in the midst.
+Somewhere here, he knew, slept Donnan's slaughterman, and it was
+possible that in this place Donald might be held in captivity.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was an accomplishment of our hero's that he could bleat like
+any kind of sheep&mdash;except perhaps an old tup, for which his voice was
+as yet too shrill. In happy, idle days he had elaborated a code of
+signals with Donald, and was well accustomed to communicating with him
+from his bedroom window. So now he crouched in the dusk of the hedge,
+and said "Maa-aaa!" in a tone of reproach.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly a little answering bleat came from the black sheds, a sound
+which made Hugh's heart beat faster. Still he could not be quite sure.
+He therefore bleated again more pleadingly, and again there came back
+the answer, choked and feeble indeed, but quite obviously the voice of
+his own dear Donald. Hugh John cast prudence to the winds. He raced
+round and climbed the bars into the enclosure, calling loudly,
+"Donald! Donald!"</p>
+
+<p>But hardly had his feet touched the ground when a couple of dogs flew
+at him from the corner of the yard, and he had scarcely time to get on
+the top of a stone wall before they were clamouring and yelping
+beneath him. Hugh John crouched on his "hunkers" (as he called the
+posture in which one sits on a wall when hostile dogs are leaping
+below), and seizing a large coping<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>-stone he dropped it as heavily as
+he could on the head of the nearer and more dangerous. A howl most
+lamentable immediately followed. Then a man's voice cried, "Down,
+Towser! What's the matter, Grip? Sic' them! Good dogs!"</p>
+
+<p>It was the voice of the slaughterman, roused from his slumbers, and in
+fear of tramps or other midnight marauders upon his master's premises.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh ran on all fours along the wall to the nearest point of the
+woods, dropped over, and with a leaping, anxious heart sped in the
+direction of home. He crossed the bridge in safety, but as he ran
+across the island he could hear the dogs upon the trail and the
+encouraging shouts of his pursuer. The black looming castle fell
+swiftly behind him. Now he was at the stepping-stones, over which he
+seemed to float rather than leap, so completely had fear added to his
+usual strength wings of swiftness.</p>
+
+<p>But at the farther side the dogs were close upon him. He was obliged
+to climb a certain low tree, where he had often sat dangling his legs
+and swinging in the branches while he allowed Prissy to read to him.</p>
+
+<p>The dogs were soon underneath, and he could see them leaping upward
+with snapping white teeth which gleamed unpleasantly through the
+darkness. But their furious barking was promptly answered. Hugh John
+could hear a heavy tread approaching among the dense foliage of the
+trees. A dark form suddenly appeared in the glade and poised something
+at its shoulder.&mdash;Flash! There came a deafening report, the thresh of
+leaden drops, a howl of pain from the dogs, and both of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> them took
+their way back towards the town with not a few bird shot in their
+flanks.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John's heart stood still as the dark figure advanced. He feared
+it might prove to be his father. Instead it was Tom Cannon, and the
+brave scout on the tree heaved a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's up there?" cried the under-keeper gruffly; "come down this
+moment and show yourself, you dirty poacher, or by Heaven I'll shoot
+you sitting!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Tom, I'm coming as fast as I can," said Hugh John,
+beginning to clamber down.</p>
+
+<p>"Heavens and earth, Master Hugh&mdash;what be you doing here? Whatever will
+master say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He won't say anything, for he won't know, Tom Cannon." said Hugh John
+confidently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, he will," said the keeper. "I won't have you bringing a pack
+of dogs into my covers at twelve of the clock&mdash;blow me if I will!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you won't tell my father, anyway!" said Hugh John calmly,
+dusting himself as well as he could.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" asked the keeper indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Cause if you do, I'll tell where I saw you kissing Jane Housemaid an
+hour ago!"</p>
+
+<p>Now this was at once a guess and an exaggeration. Hugh John had not
+seen all this, but he felt rather than knew that the permitted arm
+about Jane Housemaid's waist could have no other culmination. Also he
+had a vague sense that this was the most irritating thing he could say
+in the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate Tom Cannon fairly gasped with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> astonishment. A
+double-jointed word slipped between his teeth, which sounded like
+"Hang that boy!" At last his seething thoughts found utterance.</p>
+
+<p>"You young imp of Satan&mdash;it ain't true, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, you can tell my father that!" said Hugh John coolly,
+feeling the strength of his position.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Cannon was not much frightened for himself, but he did not wish to
+get Jane Housemaid into any trouble, for, as he well knew, that young
+woman had omitted to ask for leave of absence. So he only said, "All
+right, it's none of my business if you wander over every acre, and
+break your neck off every tree on the blame estate. But you'd better
+be getting home before master comes out and catches you himself! Then
+you'd eat strap, my lad!"</p>
+
+<p>So having remade the peace, Tom escorted Hugh John back to the dog
+kennel with great good nature, and even gave him a leg up to the roof
+above the palace of C&aelig;sar.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John paused as he put one foot into the bedroom, heavy and yet
+homelike with the night smell of a sleeping house. Toady Lion had
+fallen out of bed and lay, still with his blanket wrapped round him
+like a martial cloak, half under his cot and half on the floor. But
+this he did every other night. Prissy was breathing quietly in the
+next room. All was safe.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John called softly down, "Tom, Tom!"</p>
+
+<p>"What now?" returned the keeper, who had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> been spying along the top
+windows to distinguish a certain one dear to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Tom&mdash;I'll tell Jane Housemaid to-morrow that you're a proper
+brick."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, sir!" said Tom, saluting gravely and turning off across the
+lawn towards the "bothy," where among the pine woods he kept his
+owl-haunted bachelor quarters.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap11i.jpg" width="200" height="300" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap12.jpg" width="400" height="301" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">MOBILISATION.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap12d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">G</span>ENERALLY</b> speaking, Hugh John despised Sammy Carter&mdash;first, because he
+could lick him with one hand, and, secondly, because Sammy Carter was
+a clever boy and could discover ways of getting even without licking
+him. Clever boys are all cheeky and need hammering. Besides, Sammy
+Carter was in love with Prissy, and every one knew what that meant.
+But then Sammy Carter had a sister, Cissy by name, and she was quite a
+different row of beans.</p>
+
+<p>Furthermore, Sammy Carter read books&mdash;a degrading pursuit, unless they
+had to do with soldiering, and especially with the wars of Napoleon,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+Hugh John's great ancestor. In addition, Sammy knew every date that
+was, and would put you right in a minute if you said that Bannockburn
+happened after Waterloo, or any little thing like that. A disposition
+so perverse as this could only be cured with a wicket or with Hugh
+John's foot, and our hero frequently applied both corrections.</p>
+
+<p>But Cissy Carter&mdash;ah! now there was a girl if you like. She never
+troubled about such things. She could not run so fast as Prissy, but
+then she had a perfect colt's mane of hair, black and glossy, which
+flew out behind her when she did. Moreover, she habitually did what
+Hugh John told her, and burned much incense at his shrine, so that
+modest youth approved of her. It was of her he first thought when he
+set about organising his army for the assault upon the Black Sheds,
+where, like Hofer at Mantua, the gallant Donald lay in chains.</p>
+
+<p>But it was written in the chronicles of Oaklands that Cissy Carter
+could not be allowed over the river without Sammy, so Sammy would have
+to be permitted to join too. Hugh John resolved that he would keep his
+eye very sharply upon Prissy and Sammy Carter, for the abandoned pair
+had been known to compose poetry in the heat of an engagement, and
+even to read their compositions to one another on the sly. For this
+misdemeanour Prissy would certainly have been court-martialled, only
+that her superior officer could not catch her at the time. But the
+wicked did not wholly escape, for Hugh John tugged her hair afterwards
+till she cried; whereat Janet Sheepshanks, coming suddenly upon him
+and cornering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> him, spanked him till <i>he</i> cried. He cried solely as a
+measure of military necessity, because it was the readiest way of
+getting Janet to stop, and also because that day Janet wore a new pair
+of slippers, with heels upon which Hugh John had not been counting. So
+he cried till he got out of Janet's reach, when he put out his tongue
+at her and said, "Hum-m! Thought you hurt, didn't you? Well, it just
+didn't a bit!"</p>
+
+<p>And Sir Toady Lion, who was feeding his second-best wooden horses with
+wild sand-oats gathered green, remarked, "When I have childwens I sail
+beat them wif a big boot and tackets in the heel."</p>
+
+<p>Which voiced with great precision Janet Sheepshanks' mood at that
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>The army of Windy Standard, then, when fully mustered, consisted of
+General-Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith, Commander-in-Chief and
+regimental Sergeant-Major (also, on occasions of parade, Big
+Big-Drummer); Adjutant-General Cissy Carter, promoted to her present
+high position for always agreeing with her superior officer&mdash;a safe
+rule in military politics; Commissariat-Sergeant Sir Toady Lion, who
+declined any other post than the care of the provisions, and had to be
+conciliated; together with Privates Sammy Carter and Prissy Smith.
+Sammy Carter had formerly been Adjutant, because he had a pony, but
+gallantly resigned in order to be of the same rank as Prissy, who was
+the sole member of the force wholly without military ambition.</p>
+
+<p>At the imposing review which was held on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> plains of Windy
+Standard, the Commander-in-Chief insisted on carrying the blue banner
+himself, as well as the big-big drum, till Sammy Carter, who had not
+yet resigned, offered him his pony to ride upon. This he did with
+guile and malice aforethought, for on the drum being elevated in front
+of the mounted officer, Polo promptly ran away, and deposited
+General-Field-Marshal Smith in the horse pond.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap12i1.jpg" width="400" height="361" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;DEPOSITED GENERAL-FIELD-MARSHAL SMITH IN THE HORSE POND.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But this force, though officered with consummate ability, was
+manifestly insufficient for the attack upon the Black Sheds. This was
+well shown<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> by Sammy Carter, who also pointed out that the armies of
+all ages had never been exclusively composed of those of noble birth.
+There were, for example, at Bannockburn, the knights, the esquires,
+the sturdy yeomanry, the spearmen, the bowmen, and the camp-followers.
+He advised that the stable boys, Mike and Peter, should be approached.</p>
+
+<p>Now the head stable boy, Mike O'Donelly by name, was a scion of the
+noblest Bourbon race. His father was an exile, who spoke the language
+with a strong foreign accent, and drove a fish cart&mdash;which also had a
+pronounced accent, reputed deadly up to fifty yards with a favourable
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Foine frish hirrings&mdash;foive for sixpince!" was the way he said it.
+This proved to demonstration that he came from a far land, and was the
+descendant of kings. When taxed directly with being the heir to a
+crown, he did not deny it, but said, "Yus, Masther Smith, wanst I had
+a crown, but I lost it. 'Twas the Red Lion, bad scran to ut, that did
+the deed!"</p>
+
+<p>Now this was evidently only a picturesque and regal way of referring
+to the bloody revolution by which King Michael O'Donowitch had been
+dethroned and reduced to driving a fish-cart&mdash;the old, old story,
+doubtless, of royal license and popular ingratitude. But there was no
+such romantic mystery about Peter Greg. He was simply junior stable
+boy, and his father was general utility man&mdash;or, as it was more
+generally called, "odd man," about the estate of Windy Standard. Peter
+occupied most of his time in keeping one eye on his work and the other
+on his father, who, on general utility<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> principles, "welted" him every
+time that he caught him. This exercise, and his other occupation of
+perpetual fisticuffs with Prince Mike O'Donelly, had so developed his
+muscles and trained his mind, that he could lick any other two boys of
+his size in the parish. He said so himself, and he usually had at
+least one black eye to show for it. So no one contradicted him, and,
+indeed, who had a better right to know?</p>
+
+<p>Prince Michael O'Donowitch (the improvement in style was Sammy
+Carter's) put the matter differently. He said, "I can lick Peter Greg
+till he can't stand" ("shtand" was how the royal exile pronounced it),
+"but Peter an' me can knock the stuffin' out of any half-dozen
+spalpeens in this dirthy counthry."</p>
+
+<p>Both Mike and Peter received commissions in the army at the same
+moment. The ceremony took place at the foot of the great hay mow at
+the back of the stable yard. In view of his noble ancestry, Prince
+Michael O'Donowitch was made a major-general, and Peter a lieutenant
+of marines. The newly appointed officers instantly clinched, fell
+headlong, rolled over and over one another, pommelled each other's
+heads, bit, scratched, and kicked till the hay and straw flew in all
+directions.</p>
+
+<p>When the dust finally cleared away, Peter was found sitting astride of
+Prince Michael, and shouting, "Are you the general-major, or am I?"</p>
+
+<p>Then when they had risen to their feet and dusted themselves, it was
+found that the distinguished officers had exchanged commissions, and
+that Peter Greg had become major-general,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> while Prince Michael
+O'Donowitch was lieutenant of marines, with a new and promising black
+eye!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap12i2.jpg" width="300" height="375" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;GENERALS OF DIVISION, EQUAL IN RANK.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But at the first drill, upon General Peter issuing some complicated
+order, such as "Attention! eyes right!" Lieutenant O'Donowitch
+remarked, "Me eyes is as roight as yours, ye dirthy baste av a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+Scotchy!" Whereupon, as the result of another appeal to arms, the
+former judgment was reversed, and Prince Michael regained his
+commission at the price of another black eye. Indeed he would have had
+three, but for the fact that the number of his eyes was somewhat
+strictly limited to two.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was felt by all parties that in a well-disciplined army such
+transitions were altogether too sudden, and so a compromise was
+suggested&mdash;as usual by Sammy Carter. Prince Michael and Peter Greg
+were both made generals of division, equal in rank, under
+Field-Marshal Smith. The division commanded by General Peter was
+composed of Cissy and Sir Toady Lion. The command of this first
+division proved, however, to be purely nominal, for Cissy was much too
+intimate with the Commander-in-Chief to be ordered about, and as for
+Toady Lion he was so high minded and irresponsible that he quite
+declined to obey anybody whatsoever. Still, the title was the thing,
+and "the division of General Peter Greg" sounded very well.</p>
+
+<p>The other division was much more subordinate. Prissy and Sammy Carter
+were the only genuine privates, and they were quite ready to be
+commanded by General Mike, Prissy upon conscientious non-resistance
+principles, and Sammy with a somewhat humorous aside to his
+fellow-soldier that it wouldn't be very bad, because Mike's father
+(the royal fish-hawker) lived on Sammy's ancestral domain, and owed
+money to Mr. Davenant Carter.</p>
+
+<p>Thus even the iron discipline of a British army is tempered to the
+sacred property holder.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The immediate advance of the army of Windy Standard upon the Black
+Sheds was only hindered by a somewhat serious indisposition which
+suddenly attacked the Commander-in-Chief. The facts were these.</p>
+
+<p>Attached to the castle, but lying between it and the stepping-stones
+on the steep side of the hill, was an ancient enclosed orchard. It had
+doubtless been the original garden of the fortress, but the trees had
+gone back to their primitive "crabbiness" (as Hugh John put it), and
+in consequence the children were forbidden to eat any of the fruit&mdash;an
+order which might just as well not have been issued. But on a day it
+was reported to Janet Sheepshanks that Prissy and Hugh John were in
+the crab orchard. On tip-toe she stole down to catch them. She caught
+Hugh John. Prissy was up in one of the oldest and leafiest trees, and
+Hugh John, as in honour bound, persistently made signals in another
+direction to distract attention, as he was being hauled off to condign
+punishment.</p>
+
+<p>He had an hour to wait in the study for his father, who was away at
+the county town. During this time Hugh John suffered strange qualms,
+not of apprehension, which presently issued in yet keener and more
+definitely located agony. At last Mr. Picton Smith entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, and what is this I hear?" he said severely, throwing down
+his riding-whip on the couch as if he meant to pick it up again soon.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John was silent. He saw that his father knew all there was to
+know about his evil doings<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> from Janet Sheepshanks, and he was far too
+wise to plead guilty.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I not tell you not to go to the orchard?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John hung his head, and made a slight grimace at the pattern on
+the carpet, as a severer pang than any that had gone before assailed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here, sir," said his father, shaking his finger at him in a
+solemnising manner, "If ever I catch you again in that orchard,
+I'll&mdash;I'll give you as sound a thrashing, sir, as ever you got in your
+life."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John rubbed his hand across his body just above the second lowest
+button of his jacket.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father," he said plaintively, "I wish dreadfully that you had
+caught me before the last time I was in the orchard."</p>
+
+<p>The treatment with pills and rhubarb which followed considerably
+retarded the operations of the army of Windy Standard. It was not the
+first time that the stomach of a commander-in-chief has had an
+appreciable effect on the conduct of a campaign.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap12i3.jpg" width="300" height="275" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap13.jpg" width="400" height="317" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE ARMY OF WINDY STANDARD.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap13d.jpg" width="99" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">A</span>T</b> last, however, all was ready, in the historical phrase of Napoleon
+the Little, "to the last gaiter-button."</p>
+
+<p>It was the intention of the Commander-in-Chief to attack the citadel
+of the enemy with banners flying, and after due notice. He had been
+practising for days upon his three-key bugle in order to give the call
+of Childe Roland. But Private Sammy Carter, who was always sticking
+his oar in, put him upon wiser lines, and (what is more) did it so
+quietly and suggestively that General Napoleon was soon convinced that
+Sammy's plan was his own, and on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> the second day boasted of its merits
+to its original begetter, who did not even smile. The like has
+happened in greater armies with generals as distinguished.</p>
+
+<p>Sammy Carter advised that the assault should be delivered between
+eight and nine in the morning, for the very good reasons that at that
+hour both the butcher's apprentice, Tommy Pratt, and the slaughterman
+would be busy delivering the forenoon orders, while the butcher's son,
+Nipper Donnan, would be at school, and the Black Sheds consequently
+entirely deserted.</p>
+
+<p>At first Hugh John rebelled, and asserted that this was not a
+sportsmanlike mode of proceeding, but Sammy Carter, who always knew
+more about everything than was good for anybody, overwhelmed his chief
+with examples of strategies and surprises from the military history of
+thirty centuries.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said he, somewhat pertinently, "let's get Donald back
+first, and then we can be chivalrous all you want. Perhaps they are
+keeping him to fatten him up for the Odd Coons' Bank Holiday Feast."</p>
+
+<p>This, as the wily Sammy knew, was calculated to stir up the wrath of
+his general more than anything else he could say. For at the annual
+Bean Feast of the Honourable Company of Odd Coons, a benefit secret
+society of convivial habits, a sheep was annually roasted whole. It
+said an ox on the programme, but the actual result, curiously enough,
+was mutton and not beef.</p>
+
+<p>"We attack to-morrow at daybreak," said Field-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Marshal Smith grandly,
+as soon as Sammy Carter had finished speaking.</p>
+
+<p>This, however, had subsequently to be modified to nine o'clock, to
+suit the breakfast hour of the Carters. Moreover Saturday was
+substituted for Tuesday, both because Cissy and Sammy could most
+easily "shirk" their governess on that day, and because Mr. Picton
+Smith was known to be going up to London by the night train on Friday.</p>
+
+<p>On such trivial circumstances do great events depend.</p>
+
+<p>When the army was finally mustered for the assault, its armament was
+found to be somewhat varied, though generally efficient. But then even
+in larger armies the weapons of the different arms of the service are
+far from uniform. There are, for example, rifles and bayonets for the
+Line, lances for the Light Horse, carbines, sabres, and army biscuits,
+all deadly after their kind.</p>
+
+<p>So it was in the campaigning outfit of the forces of Windy Standard.
+The historian can only hint at this equipment, so strange were the
+various kits. The Commander-in-Chief wished to insist on a red sash
+and a long cut-and-thrust sword, with (if possible) a kettle-drum. But
+this was found impracticable as a general order. For not only did the
+two divisional commanders decline to submit to the sash, but there
+were not enough kettle-drums intact to go more than half round.</p>
+
+<p>So General Smith was the only soldier who carried a real sword. He had
+also a pistol, which, however, obstinately refused to go off, but
+formed a valuable weapon when held by the barrel.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> Cissy was furnished
+with a pike, constructed by Prince Michael's father, the dethroned
+monarch of O'Donowitch-dom, out of a leister or fish-spear&mdash;which,
+strangely enough, he had carried away with him from his palace at the
+time of his exile. This constituted a really formidable armament,
+being at least five feet long, and so sharp that if you ran very hard
+against a soft wooden door with it, it made a mark which you could see
+quite a yard off in a good light.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy had a carpet-broom with a long handle, which at a distance
+looked like a gun, and as Prissy meant to do all her fighting at a
+distance this was quite sufficient. In addition she had three pieces
+of twine to tie up her dress, so that she would be ready to run away
+untrammelled by flapping skirts. Sir Toady Lion was equipped for war
+with a thimble, three sticky bull's-eyes, the haft of a knife (but no
+blade), a dog-whistle, and a go-cart with one shaft, all of which
+proved exceedingly useful.</p>
+
+<p>The two Generals of Division were attired in neat stable clothes with
+buttoned leggings, and put their trust in a pair of "catties"
+(otherwise known as catapults), two stout shillelahs, the national
+batons of the exiled prince, manufactured by himself; and, most
+valuable of all, a set a-piece of horny knuckles, which they had kept
+in constant practice against each other all through the piping times
+of peace. Both Mike and Peter knowingly chewed straws in opposite
+corners of their mouths.</p>
+
+<p>The forces on the other side were quite unknown, both as to number and
+quality. Hugh<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> John maintained that there were at least twenty, and
+Toady Lion stoutly proclaimed that there were a million thousand, and
+that he had seen and counted them every one. But a stricter census,
+instituted upon evidence led by Private Sammy Carter, could not get
+beyond half-a-dozen. So that the disproportion was not so great as
+might have been supposed. Still the siege of the Sheds was felt to be
+of the nature of a forlorn hope.</p>
+
+<p>It was arranged that all who distinguished themselves for deeds of
+valour were to receive the Victoria Cross, a decoration which had been
+cut by Hugh John out of the tops of ginger-beer bottles with a cold
+chisel. As soon, however, as Sir Toady Lion heard this, he sat down in
+the dust of the roadside, and simply refused to budge till his
+grievances were redressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I wants Victowya Cyoss <i>now</i>!" he remarked, with his father's wrinkle
+of determination between the eyes showing very plain, as it always did
+when he wanted anything very much.</p>
+
+<p>For when Toady Lion asked for a thing, like the person in the
+advertisement, he saw that he got it.</p>
+
+<p>In vain it was pointed out to him that this ill-advised action
+constituted rank mutiny, and that he was liable to be arrested, tried
+by court-martial, and ignominiously shot. Toady Lion knew all about
+mutiny, and cared nothing about courts-martial. Besides, he had had
+some experience, and he knew the value of "making oneself a nuisance"
+in army matters.</p>
+
+<p>Equally in vain was Sammy Carter's humorously<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> false information that
+he had better run, for here was Janet coming up the road with an awful
+biggy stick.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't care for Janet," reiterated Toady Lion. "I wants Victowya
+Cyoss&mdash;I wants it <i>now!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>So there upon the roadside, at the very outset of the campaign, Sir
+Toady Lion was decorated with the much coveted "For Valour" cross.</p>
+
+<p>And he would be a bold man who would say that he did not deserve it.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap13i.jpg" width="150" height="424" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap14.jpg" width="400" height="228" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE BATTLE OF THE BLACK SHEDS.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap14d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>HIS</b> much being settled, the army of Windy Standard advanced upon the
+enemy's entrenchments.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy was the only soldier in the force with any religious
+convictions of a practical kind. On this occasion she actually wanted
+to send a mission to the foe with an offer of peace, on condition of
+their giving up Donald to his rightful owners. She instanced as an
+example of the kind of thing she meant, the verses about turning the
+other cheek. But General Napoleon had his answer ready.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "that's all right. That's in the Bible, so I s'pose
+you have got to believe it. But I was looking at it last Sunday in
+sermon time, and it doesn't say what you are to do <i>after</i> you turn
+the other cheek. So yesterday I tried it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> on Tommy Pratt to see how it
+worked, and he hit me on the other cheek like winking, and made my
+eyes water. So then I took off my coat, and, Jove!&mdash;didn't I just give
+him Billy-O! Texts aren't so bad. They are mostly all right, if you
+only read on a bit!"</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Prissy, "perhaps you forgot that a soft answer turneth
+away wrath?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, nother," contradicted Sir Toady Lion, whose pronunciation of
+"wrath" and "horse" was identical, and who persistently misunderstood
+the Scriptural statement which Janet Sheepshanks had once made him
+learn without explanation. "Tried soft answer on big horse in the
+farm-yard, yesterday, and he didn't turn away a little bit, but comed
+right on, and tried to eat me <i>all</i> up!"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion always had at least one word in italics in each sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy looked towards her ally and fellow-private for assistance.</p>
+
+<p>"Love your&mdash;&mdash;" suggested Sammy, giving her a new cue. Prissy thanked
+him with a look.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "at least you won't deny that it says in the New
+Testament that you are to love your enemies!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't yike the New Test'ment," commented Toady Lion in his shrill
+high pipe, which cuts through all other conversation as easily as a
+sharp knife cleaves a bar of soap; "ain't never nobody killed dead in
+the New Test'ment!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Arthur George," said Prissy in a shocked voice, "you must not
+speak like that about the New Testament. It says 'Love your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> enemies!'
+'Do good to them that hate you!' Now then!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John turned away with a disgusted look on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said, "of course, if you were to go on like that, there would
+never be any soldiers, nor bloody wars, nor nothing nice!"</p>
+
+<p>Which of course would be absurd.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>During this discussion the two Generals of Division had been wholly
+silent. To them the New Testament was considerably outside the sphere
+of practical politics. Peter Greg indeed had one which he had got from
+his mother on his birthday with his name on the first page; and Mike,
+who was of the contrary persuasion as to the advisability of
+circulating the Written Word in the vulgar tongue, could always
+provoke a fight by threatening to burn it, to which Peter Greg
+invariably replied by a hasty and ungenerous expression of hope as to
+the future welfare of the head of the Catholic religion.</p>
+
+<p>But all this was purely academical discussion. Neither of them knew
+nor cared one jot about the matter. Prissy alone was genuinely
+distressed, and so affected was she that two big tears of woe trickled
+down her cheeks. These she wiped off with her pinafore, turning away
+her eyes so that Hugh John might not see them. There was, however, no
+great danger of this, for that warrior preoccupied himself with
+shouting "Right-left, Right-left," as if he were materially assisting
+the success of the expedition by doing so.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the entrance to the pastures tenanted by butcher Donnan, the army
+divided into its two divisions under their several commanders. The
+Commander-in-Chief placed himself between the wings as a central
+division all by himself. It was Peter Greg who first reached the door,
+and with his stout cudgel knocked off the padlock. He had already
+entered in triumph, and was about to be followed by his soldiery, when
+a loud shout was heard from the edge of the park.</p>
+
+<p>"Here they are&mdash;go at them! Give them fits, boys! We'll learn them to
+come sneaking into our field."</p>
+
+<p>And over the stone dikes, from the direction of the town of Edam, came
+an overpowering force of the enemy led by Nipper Donnan. They seemed
+to arrive from all parts at once, and with sticks and stones they
+advanced upon the slender array of the forces of Windy Standard. Their
+rude language, their threatening gestures, and their loud shouts
+intimidated but did not daunt the assailants. Field-Marshal Napoleon
+Smith called on his men to do or die; and everyone resolved that that
+was just what they were there for&mdash;all except Prissy, who promptly
+pulled up her skirts and went down the meadow towards the
+stepping-stones like a jenny-spinner driven by the wind, and Sir Toady
+Lion, who, finding an opening in the hedge about his size in holes,
+crept quietly through and was immediately followed by C&aelig;sar, the
+"potwalloping" Newfoundland pup.</p>
+
+<p>The struggle which raged around those who remained staunch to the
+colours was grim and deadly. General-Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith
+threw himself into the thickest of the fray, and the cry, "A Smith for
+Merry England," alternated with the ringing "Scotland for ever!" which
+had so often carried terror into the hearts of the foe. Prince Michael
+O'Donowitch performed prodigies of valour, and personally "downed"
+three of the enemy with his national weapon. Peter Greg fought a
+pitched battle with Nipper Donnan, in which double-jointed words were
+as freely used as tightly clenched fists. Cissy Carter "progged" at
+least half-a-dozen of the enemy with her pike, before it was wrested
+from her by the united efforts of several town lads who were not going
+to stand being punched by a girl. Sammy Carter stood well out of the
+heady fray, and contented himself with stinging up the enemy with his
+vengeful catapult till they howled again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap14i.jpg" width="600" height="414" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE BATTLE OF THE BLACK SHEDS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the struggle of the many against the few, the strong against the
+weak, could only end in one way. In ten minutes the forces of law and
+disorder were scattered to the four quarters of heaven, and the
+standard that had streamed so rarely on the braes of Edam was in the
+hands of the exulting foe.</p>
+
+<p>Prince Michael was wounded on the nose to the effusion of blood,
+General Peter Greg was a fugitive with a price on his head, and, most
+terrible of all&mdash;Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith was taken prisoner.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>But Sir Toady Lion was neither among the slain, nor yet among the
+wounded or the captives. What then of Toady Lion?</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap15.jpg" width="400" height="230" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">TOADY LION PLAYS A FIRST LONE HAND.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap15d.jpg" width="99" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">S</span>IR</b> Toady Lion had played a lone hand.</p>
+
+<p>We left him sitting behind the hedge, secure as the gods above the
+turmoil of battle. But he could not be content to stay there. He
+thought of Richard C&oelig;ur-de-Lion, his great namesake and hero; and
+though he wanted to do nothing rash, he was resolved to justify the
+ginger-beer label Victoria Cross which he wore so proudly on his
+breast. So he waited till the forces of the town had swept those of
+Windy Standard from the field. He saw on the edge of the wood Hugh
+John, resisting manfully to the death, and striking out in all
+directions. But Toady Lion knew that he had no clear call to such very
+active exertions.</p>
+
+<p>Cautiously he returned through his hole in the hedge, and crawling
+round the opposite side of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> Black Sheds, he entered the door which
+Peter Greg had forced with his cudgel, before he had been interrupted
+by the arrival of the enemy. Toady Lion ran through a slippery byre in
+which calves had been standing, and came to an inner division with a
+low door and a causewayed floor like a pig-pen. He opened this gate by
+kicking up the hasp with the toe of his boot, and found himself at
+once in the inmost sanctuary.</p>
+
+<p>And there, right before him, with a calf's halter of rope about his
+neck, all healthy and alive, was Donald, his own dear, black, pet lamb
+Donald, who gave a little bleat of pure delight upon seeing him, and
+pulled vigorously at the rope to get loose.</p>
+
+<p>"Quiet now, Donald! Or they will come back. Stand still, 'oo horrid
+little beast 'oo, till I get the rope off!"</p>
+
+<p>And so, easing the noose gradually, Toady Lion slipped it over
+Donald's head and he was free.</p>
+
+<p>Then, very cautiously, his deliverer put his head round the door to
+see that the coast was clear. Not a soul was to be seen anywhere on
+the pastures; so Toady Lion slid out and made for the gap in the
+hedge, sure that Donald would follow him. Donald did follow, but, as
+luck would have it, no sooner was he through than C&aelig;sar, who had been
+scraping for imaginary rabbits at the other side of the field, came
+barking and rushing about over the grass like a runaway traction
+engine.</p>
+
+<p>Now Donald hated big dogs&mdash;they rugged and tugged his wool so; as soon
+therefore as he saw C&aelig;sar he took down the lea towards the island as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+hard as he could go. He thundered across the wooden bridge, breaking
+through the fleeing forces of Windy Standard, which were scattered
+athwart the castle island. He sprinted over the short turf by the
+orchard, C&aelig;sar lying off thirty yards on his flank. At the shallows by
+the stepping-stones Donald sheepfully took the water, and was not long
+in swimming to the other side, the Edam being hardly deep enough
+anywhere at this point to take him off his feet. In a minute more he
+was delightedly nuzzling his wet nose into the hand of Janet
+Sheepshanks, on the terrace of Windy Standard House.</p>
+
+<p>"Wi beast, whaur hae ye come frae?&mdash;I declare I am <i>that</i> glad to see
+ye!"</p>
+
+<p>But had she known the price which had been paid for Donald's liberty,
+her rejoicing would quickly have given place to sorrow. It was
+mid-afternoon on the day of battle and defeat when Toady Lion
+straggled home, so wet and dirty that he could only be slapped, bathed
+and sent to bed&mdash;which, in the absence of his father, was felt to be
+an utterly inadequate punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy had long ago fled home with a terrible tale of battle, murder,
+and sudden death. But she knew nothing of her brother Hugh John,
+though she had nerved herself to go back to the Black Sheds, suffering
+grinding agonies of fear and apprehension the while, as also of
+reproach for deserting him in his hour of need. Mike and Peter were
+quietly at work in the stable, in momentary dread of being called upon
+to give evidence.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Carters, Sammy and Cissy, had run straight home, and were at that
+moment undoubtedly smelling of arnica and slimy with vaseline.
+But there was no trace of the Commander-in-Chief anywhere.
+General-Field-Marshal Napoleon Smith had vanished from the face of the
+earth.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap15i1.jpg" width="400" height="468" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;OH, THE BONNY LADDIE!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Tea-time came and went. He had been known<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> to be absent from tea.
+Supper-time arrived and overpassed, and then the whole house grew
+anxious. Ten o'clock came, and in the clear northern twilight all the
+household were scattered over the countryside seeking for him.
+Midnight, and no Hugh John! Where could he be? Drowned in the Edam
+Water&mdash;killed by a chance blow in the great battle&mdash;or simply hiding
+from fear of punishment and afraid to venture home? It must have been
+some stranger entirely unacquainted with General Napoleon Smith who
+advocated the last explanation. The inmates of Windy Standard
+cherished no such foolish hopes.</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose soon after two on as glorious a summer morning as ever
+shone upon the hills of the Border. As his beams overshot Brown
+Gattonside to the east they fell on Janet Sheepshanks. Her decent
+white cap was green-moulded with the moss of the woods; the drip of
+waterside caves had grimed it, the cobwebs of murky outhouses
+festooned it. Her abundant grey hair hung down in untended witch
+locks. She had not shut an eye nor lain down all night.</p>
+
+<p>Now she leaned her head on her hands and sobbed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the bonny laddie! Whatever will I say to his faither when he
+comes hame? His auldest son and the aipple o' his e'e! My certie, if
+the ill-set loon were to come up the road the noo, I wad thresh the
+very skin aff his banes! To think that he should bide awa' like this.
+Oh, the dear, dear lamb that he is; and will thae auld e'en never mair
+rest on his bonnie face? Cauld, cauld noo<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> it looks up frae the bottom
+o' some pool in the Edam Water!"</p>
+
+<p>And Janet Sheepshanks, like one of the mothers in Ramah, lifted up her
+voice and wept with the weeping which will not be comforted; for
+oft-times bairns' play brings that which is not bairns' play to those
+who love them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap15i2.jpg" width="250" height="287" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap16.jpg" width="400" height="263" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE SMOUTCHY BOYS.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap16d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">G</span>ENERAL</b> Napoleon Smith had been taken captive by the Comanche Cowboys.
+Now it is fair to say in this place that they also had their side of
+the question. Their fathers were, in their own opinion, striving for
+the ancient rights of the town against an interloping Smith. Why
+should not they against the son of that Smith and his allies? The
+denunciations of the Edam Town Council were only transformed into the
+blows which rained down so freely upon Hugh John's bare and curly
+head, as he stood at bay that Saturday morning in the corner of the
+dike.</p>
+
+<p>"Surrender!" cried Nipper Donnan, whose father had moved that the town
+of Edam take the case up to the House of Lords.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'A Smith dies but does not surrender'!" replied the son of the man
+who had declared his intention of fighting the matter out though it
+took his last copper.</p>
+
+<p>In the calm atmosphere of the law-courts this was very well, and the
+combatants stood about an equal chance; but not so when translated
+into terms to suit the Black Sheds of Edam and the links of the castle
+island.</p>
+
+<p>So the many-headed swarmed over the wall from behind; they struck down
+the last brave defender of privilege, and Hugh John Picton Smith was
+borne away to captivity.</p>
+
+<p>Now there are many tongues and many peoples on the face of the earth,
+and doubtless the one Lord made them all. But there is one variety
+which appears among all nations, and commentators disagree as to what
+particular Power is responsible for his creation. He is the Smoutchy
+Boy.</p>
+
+<p>This universal product of the race is indeed the chief evidence that
+we are lineally connected with the brutes that perish; for there is no
+doubt that the Smoutchy Boy is a brute among brutes. He is at once
+cruel and cowardly, boastful and shy, ready to strike a weaker, and
+equally ready to cry out when a stronger strikes him. He is not
+peculiar to any one class of society. He frequents the best
+public-schools, and is responsible for the under-current of cruelty
+which ever and anon rises to the surface there and supplies a month's
+free copy to enterprising journals in want of a sensation for the dull
+season. He makes some regiments of the service a terror. He
+understands all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> about "hazing" in the navy. Happily, however, among
+such large collections of human beings there is generally some
+clear-eyed, upstanding, able-bodied, long-armed Other Product who, by
+way of counterpoise, has been specially created to be the defender of
+the oppressed, and the scourge of the Smoutchy Boy.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen one such scatter a dozen Smoutchies, who were employed
+after their kind in stoning to death a nestful of fluffy, gaping,
+yellow-billed young blackbirds. I have heard the sound of his fists
+striking most compactly and satisfactorily against Smoutchy flesh.
+Also I know the jar with which a foot stops suddenly in mid-air, as
+the Scourge pursues and kicks the fleeing Smoutchy&mdash;kicks him "for
+keeps" too.</p>
+
+<p>Yet for all this Smoutchy Boy is a man and a brother. His smoutchiness
+generally passes off with the callowness of hobble-de-hoyhood. The
+condition is indeed rather one for the doctor than for the Police
+Court. It is pathological rather than criminal; for when the Smoutchy
+is thrown for some time into the society of men of the world&mdash;drilled
+for instance in barrack yards, licked and clouted into shape by the
+regiment or the ship's crew, he sheds his smoutchiness from him like a
+garment. It is on record that Smoutchies ere now have led forlorn
+hopes, pierced Africa to its centre, navigated strange seas, and
+trodden trackless Polar snows. The worst Smoutchy of my time, the
+bully who, till the biceps and <i>tendo Achilles</i> muscles hardened to
+their office, made life at a certain school a terror and an agony,
+afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> sprang from a steamer in order to save the life of a man
+who had fallen overboard in a high-running sea.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap16i1.jpg" width="400" height="454" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE HEAD SMOUTCHY.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But of all Smoutchies the worst variety is that reared in the vicinity
+of the small manufacturing town. He thrives on wages too early and too
+easily earned. Foul language, a tobacco pipe<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> with the bowl turned
+down, and the rotten fagends of Association football, are the signs by
+which you may know him. In such a society there is always one Smoutchy
+who sets the fashion, and a crowd who imitate.</p>
+
+<p>In Edam the head Smoutchy of the time was Nipper Donnan. He was the
+son of a fighting butcher, who in his day, and before marrying the
+widow of the deceased publican of the "Black Bull," had been a yet
+more riotous drover, and had almost met the running expenses of the
+Sheriff Court by his promptly paid fines.</p>
+
+<p>The only things Nipper Donnan feared were the small, round, deep-set
+eyes of his father. The police were a sport to him. The
+well-brought-up children of the Grammar School trembled at his name.
+The rough lads at work in the mills on the Edam Water almost
+worshipped him; for it was known that his father gave him lessons in
+pugilism. He sported a meerschaum pipe; a spotted handkerchief was
+always knotted knowingly round his throat, and a white bull-dog, with
+red sidelong eyes and lips drawn up at the corners, followed close at
+his heel.</p>
+
+<p>Great in Edam and on all the banks of the Edam Water was Nipper
+Donnan, the King of the Smoutchies.</p>
+
+<p>And it was into his hard, rough, unclean hands that our brave General
+Napoleon had fallen. Now Nipper had been reared in special hatred of
+the Smiths of Windy Standard. Mr. Picton Smith it was who, long ago at
+Edam Fair, as a young man, had interfered with Drover Donnan,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> when he
+was just settling to "polish off" a soft, good-natured shepherd of the
+hills, whom he had failed to cheat out of the price of his
+"blackfaces." Mr. Picton Smith it was who on the same occasion had
+sentenced the riotous drover to "thirty days without the option of a
+fine." He it was in times more recent who had been the means of
+getting the Black Bull shut up, upon the oft-repeated complaint of the
+Chief Constable.</p>
+
+<p>And so all this heritage of hatred was now to be worked off on the son
+of the gentleman by the son of the bully. Of course it might just as
+well have been the other way about, for there is no absolute heredity
+in Smoutchydom. The butcher might easily have been the gentleman, and
+the landlord's son the Smoutchy bully; only to Hugh John's cost, on
+this occasion it happened to be the other way about.</p>
+
+<p>The lads who followed Nipper Donnan were mostly humble admirers&mdash;some
+more cruel, some less, but sworn Smoutchies to a man, and all afraid
+to interfere with the fierce pleasures of their chief. Indeed, so
+absolute was Captain Nipper Donnan, that there never was a time when
+some of his band did not bear the marks of his attentions.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap16i2.jpg" width="300" height="172" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap17.jpg" width="400" height="374" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">BEFORE THE INQUISITION.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap17d.jpg" width="113" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">W</span>ITH</b> this excursion into the natural history of the Smoutchy Boy,
+which perhaps ought to have come somewhat earlier in the history, we
+continue the tale of the adventures of General Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<p>Beaten down by numbers, the hero lay on the ground at the corner of
+the butcher's parks. Nipper Donnan stood over him and held him down
+with his foot. They were just the right ages for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> bully and bullied.
+Hugh John Smith was twelve, slim, and straight as an arrow; Nipper
+Donnan sixteen, short, hard, and thick set, with large solid hands and
+prominent knuckles.</p>
+
+<p>"Got you at last, young prig! Now I'll do you to rights!" remarked
+Nipper, genially kicking Hugh John in the ribs with his hobnailed
+boots.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John said not a word, for he had fought till there was no more
+breath left in him anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Sulky, hey?" said Nipper, with another kick in a more tender spot.
+Hugh John winced. "Ah, lads, I thought that would wake the young swell
+up. Oh, our father is the owner of this property, is he? So nice! He
+owns the town, does he? Nasty pauper he is! Too poor to keep a proper
+carriage, but thinks us all dirt under his feet. Yaw, yaw, we aw-w so
+fine, we aw-w, we a-aw!"</p>
+
+<p>And Nipper Donnan imitated, amid the mean obsequious laughter of his
+fighting tail, the erect carriage of his father's enemy, Mr. Picton
+Smith, as he was accustomed to stride somewhat haughtily down the High
+Street of Edam.</p>
+
+<p>Then he came back and kicked Hugh John again.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't dare to do this if my father were here!" said General
+Napoleon, now sitting up on his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Your</i> father, I'll show you!" shouted furiously Nipper the Tyrant.
+"Who asked you to come here anyway to meddle with us? Who invited you
+into our parks? What business have you in our castle? Fetch him along,
+boys; we'll show him something that neither he nor his father<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> know
+anything about. They and the likes of them used to shut up people in
+the castle dungeons, so they say. We are just the boys to give 'em a
+taste of what it is like theirselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Hooray," shouted the Smoutchy fighting tail; "fetch him along, lads!"</p>
+
+<p>So with no gentle hands Hugh John was seized and hurried away. He was
+touched up with ironbound clogs in the rear, his arms were pinched
+underneath where the skin is tender, as well as nearly dragged from
+their sockets. A useless red cravat was thrust into his mouth by way
+of a gag&mdash;useless, for the prisoner would sooner have died than have
+uttered one solitary cry.</p>
+
+<p>And all the time Hugh John was saying over and over to himself the
+confession of his faith:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I didn't tell&mdash;I'm glad I wasn't 'dasht-mean.' I'm a
+soldier. The Scots Greys saluted me; and these fellows <i>shan't</i> make
+me cry."</p>
+
+<p>And they didn't. For the spirit of many generations of stalwart Smiths
+and fighting Pictons was in him, and perhaps also a spark from the
+ancestral anvil of the first Smith had put iron into his boyish blood.
+So all through the scene which followed&mdash;the slow mock trial, the
+small ingenious tortures, pulling back middle fingers, hanging up by
+thumbs to a beam with his toes just touching the ground, tying a
+string about his head and tightening it with a twisted stick&mdash;Hugh
+John never cried a tear, which was the bitterest drop in the cup of
+Nipper Donnan.</p>
+
+<p>They removed the gag in order that they might question him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Say this is not your father's castle, and we'll let you down!" cried
+Nipper.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> my father's and nobody else's! And when it is mine, I shan't
+let one of you beasts come near it."</p>
+
+<p>The Smoutchies tried another tack.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise you won't tell on us if we let you go!"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't promise; I will tell every one of your names to the
+policeman, and get you put in jail&mdash;so there! My father has gone to
+London to see the Queen, and have you all put into prison&mdash;yes, and
+whipped with a cat-o'-nine-tails as soon as ever he comes back!"
+answered Hugh John, shamelessly belying both his father and his own
+intentions.</p>
+
+<p>But he comforted himself and excused the lie, by saying to himself,
+"It is none of their business whether I tell on them or not. They
+shan't think that I don't tell because I am afraid of them!"</p>
+
+<p>And the great heart of the hero (aged twelve) stood high and unshaken.</p>
+
+<p>At last even Nipper Donnan tired of the cruel sport. It was no great
+fun when the victim could not be made to cry or appeal for mercy. And
+even the fighting tail grew vaguely restive, perhaps becoming
+indistinctly conscious, in spite of their blind admiration for their
+chief, that by comparison with the steadfast defiance and upright mien
+of their solitary victim, the slouching, black-pipe-smoking
+smoutchiness of Nipper Donnan did not appear the truly heroic figure.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's put him in the dungeon, and leave him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> there! I can come and
+let him out after, and then kick the beggar home the way he came! That
+will learn him to let us alone for ever and ever!"</p>
+
+<p>The fighting tail shouted agreement, and Hugh John was promptly haled
+to the mouth of the prison-house; a rope was rove about his waist, his
+hands were tied behind his back, and he was lowered down into the
+ancient dungeon of the Castle of Windy Standard. This place of
+confinement had last been used a hundred and fifty years ago for the
+stragglers of the Bonny Prince's army after the retreat northward. The
+dungeon was bottle-necked above, and spread out beneath into a
+circular vault of thirty or forty feet in diameter. Its depth was
+about twelve feet; and as the boys had not rope enough to lower their
+prisoner all the way, they had perforce to let Hugh John drop, and he
+lighted on his feet, taking of course the rope with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, lads," cried Nipper Donnan, "let's go and have a smoke at
+the Black Sheds, and then go up to the Market Hill to see the shows.
+The proud swine will do well enough down there till his father comes
+back from London with the cat-o'-nine-tails!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked over the edge and spat into the dungeon.</p>
+
+<p>"That for you!" he cried. "Will ye say now that the castle is your
+father's, and that we have no right here!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John tried to give the required information as to ownership, but
+it was choked in the
+folds of the red cravat. Nipper went on
+tauntingly, all unchallenged.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap17i1.jpg" width="400" height="654" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;WILL YE SAY NOW THAT THE CASTLE IS YOUR FATHER&#39;S, AND THAT WE HAVE NO RIGHT HERE!&#39; SAID NIPPER DONNAN.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's ethers (adders) down there&mdash;and weasels and whopper rats that
+eat off your fingers and toes. Yes, and my father saw a black beast
+like an otter, but as big as a calf, run in there out of the Edam
+Water; and they'll bite ye and stang ye and suck your blood! And we
+are never coming back no more, so ye'll die of starvation besides."</p>
+
+<p>With this pleasing speech by way of farewell and benediction, Nipper
+Donnan drew off his forces, and Hugh John was left alone.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap17i2.jpg" width="300" height="349" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap18.jpg" width="400" height="330" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE CASTLE DUNGEON.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap18d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">F</span>OR</b> some time after Hugh John was thus imprisoned, he stood looking up
+with a face of set defiance through the narrow aperture above, where
+he had last seen the triumphant countenances of his foes.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's afraid? They shan't say Hugh John Picton Smith is afraid!" were
+the words in his proud and angry heart, which kept him from feeling
+insult and pain, kicks and buffetings. Gradually, however, as the
+sound of retreating footsteps died away, the rigid attitude of the
+hero relaxed. He began to be conscious that he was all one great ache,
+that the ropes were drawn exceedingly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> tight about his wrists, that
+the gag in his mouth hurt his cheeks, that he was very tired&mdash;and, oh!
+shame for a hero of battles and martyr in secret torture-chambers,
+that he wanted badly to sit down and cry.</p>
+
+<p>"But I won't cry&mdash;even to myself!" said Hugh John. Yet all the same he
+sat mournfully down to consider his position. He did not doubt that he
+had been left there for altogether, and he began at once (perhaps to
+keep himself from crying) to argue out the chances.</p>
+
+<p>"First," he said, "I must wriggle my hands loose, then I can get the
+gag out of my mouth easy enough. After that I've got to count my
+stores, and see if I can find a rusty nail to write my name on the
+wall and the date of my captivity."</p>
+
+<p>(Hugh John wanted to do everything decently and in order.)</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must find a pin or a needle (a needle if possible&mdash;a pin is
+poisonous, and besides it is so much more easy to prick blood from
+your thumb with a needle), and then I have got to write an account of
+my sufferings on linen like the abb&eacute;, or on tablets of bread like
+Latude. As I have no bread, except the lump that was left over at
+breakfast, I suppose it will need to be written on linen; but bread
+tablets are much the more interesting. Of course I could make one or
+two tablets, write secret messages on them, and eat them after."</p>
+
+<p>General Smith would have gone on to make still further arrangements
+for the future, but the present pain of the blood in his hands and
+the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> tightness of the rope at his wrists warned him that he had better
+begin the practical work of effecting his release.</p>
+
+<p>Now General Smith was not one of that somewhat numerous class of
+persons who take all day to do nothing, and as soon as he was
+convinced by indisputable logic of the wisdom of any course, he threw
+himself heart and soul into the accomplishment of it. On his hands and
+knees he went half round the circuit of the wall of his prison, but
+encountered nothing save the bare clammy stones&mdash;with the mortar loose
+and crumbly in the joints, and the moist exudations of the lime
+congealed into little stony blobs upon the surface which tasted
+brackish when he put his lips to them.</p>
+
+<p>So Hugh John stood up and began a new search on another level. This
+time he did find something to the purpose.</p>
+
+<p>About three feet from the ground was a strong nail driven firmly into
+a joint of the masonry. Probably it owed its position to one of the
+Highland prisoners of the Forty-five, who had used it to hang his
+spare clothes on, or for some other purpose. But in his heart Hugh
+John dated it from the days of the Black Douglas at least.</p>
+
+<p>Either way it proved most useful.</p>
+
+<p>Standing with his back to the wall, the boy could just reach it with
+his wrists. He had long thin hands with bones which, when squeezed,
+seemed to have a capacity for fitting still more closely into one
+another. So it was not difficult for him to open the palms
+sufficiently to let the head of the nail in. Then biting his teeth
+upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> his lip to keep the pain at a bearable point, he bent the weight
+of his body this way and that upon the iron pin, so that in five or
+six minutes he had worked Nipper Donnan's inartistic knots
+sufficiently loose to slip over his wrists. His hands were free.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap18i1.jpg" width="300" height="405" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;HE BENT THE WEIGHT OF HIS BODY THIS WAY AND THAT.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His first act was to take the red cravat out of his mouth, and the
+next after that to lie down with all his weight upon his hands,
+holding them between the floor of the dungeon and his breast, for the
+tingling pain of the blood returning into the fingers came nearer to
+making the hero cry than all that had happened that day. But he still
+refrained.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't, I am a Napoleon&mdash;Smith!" he added as an afterthought, as
+if in loyalty to the father, whose legal and territorial claims he had
+that day so manfully upheld.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly what was due to his dignified position as a state
+prisoner occurred to him. Casanova had struck at the wall till his
+fingers bled. Latude had gnashed his teeth, howled with anguish, and
+gnawed the earth.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not done any of these things," said Hugh John; "I don't like
+it. But I suppose I've got to try!"</p>
+
+<p>However, one solid rap of his knuckles upon the hard limestone of the
+dungeon wall persuaded him that there were things more amusing in the
+world than to imitate Casanova in that. And as at the first gnaw his
+mouth encountered a tiny nettle, he leaped to his feet and declared at
+the pitch of his voice that both Latude and Casanova were certainly
+"dasht fools!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound of his own words reminded him that after all he was within a
+mile of home. He wondered what time it might be. He began to feel
+hungry, and the cubic capacity of his internal emptiness persuaded him
+that it must be at least quite his usual dinner-time.</p>
+
+<p>So Hugh John decided that, all things being considered, it would be
+nothing against his manhood if he called for help, and took his chance
+of any coming. But he remembered that the mouth of the dungeon was in
+a very retired part of the castle, in the wing nearest to the river,
+and shut off from the road across the island by a flanking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> tower and
+a thirteen-foot wall. So he was not very sanguine of success. Still he
+felt that in his perilous position he could not afford to neglect any
+chance, however slight.</p>
+
+<p>So he shouted manfully, "Help! Help! Murder! Police! Fire!" as loud as
+he could bawl.</p>
+
+<p>Then he tried the "Coo-ee" which Sergeant Steel had taught him, under
+the impression that it would carry farther. But the keep of a
+fourteenth century castle and thirteen feet of shell lime and rubble
+masonry are proof against the most willing boyish voice in the world.
+So General Napoleon made no more impression upon his friends than his
+great original would have done had he summoned the Old Guard from the
+cliffs of St. Helena.</p>
+
+<p>But the younger warrior was not discouraged. He had tried one plan and
+it had failed. He sat down again to think what was the next thing to
+be done.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered the thick "hunk" of bread he had put in the pocket of
+his jacket in the morning. He could not eat it at breakfast, so
+greatly had he been excited by the impending conflict; so, to prevent
+waste, and to make all safe, he had put it in his pocket. Besides, in
+the absence of his father, it was not always possible to be in for
+meals. And&mdash;well, one never knew what might happen. It was best to be
+prepared for all emergencies.</p>
+
+<p>With trembling hand he felt for the "hunk." Alas! the jacket pocket
+was empty, and hung flat and limp against his side. The staff of life
+must have fallen out in the progress of the fray, or else<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> one of the
+enemy had despoiled him of his treasure.</p>
+
+<p>A quick thought struck his military mind, accustomed before all else
+to deal with questions of commissariat. It was just possible that the
+bread might have fallen out of his pocket when the Smoutchies were
+letting him down so roughly into the dungeon of the castle.</p>
+
+<p>He went directly underneath the aperture, from which a faint light was
+distributed over the uneven floor of hard trampled earth whereon a
+century's dry dust lay ankle deep.</p>
+
+<p>There&mdash;there, almost under his feet, was his piece of bread!</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John picked it up, blew the dust carefully off, and wiped the
+surface with his handkerchief. It was a good solid piece of bread, and
+would have served C&aelig;sar the Potwalloper for at least two mouthfuls.
+With care it might sustain life for an indefinite period&mdash;perhaps as
+much as twenty-four hours.</p>
+
+<p>So, in accordance with the best traditions, the prisoner divided his
+provision with his pocketknife, as accurately as possible under the
+circumstances. He cut it into cubes of about an inch square, exactly
+as if he had been going to lay down rat poison.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon Smith was decidedly beginning to recover his spirits. For one
+thing, he thought how very few boys had ever had his chances. A Latude
+of twelve was somewhat unusual in the United Kingdom of Great Britain
+and Ireland, and even in the adjacent islands. He began at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> once to
+write his memoirs in his head, but found that he could not get on very
+well, because he could not remember which one of his various
+great-grandmothers had danced with Bonny Prince Charlie at Edinburgh.
+This for a loyal prisoner was insuperable, so he gave the memoirs up.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap18i2.jpg" width="300" height="281" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap19.jpg" width="400" height="301" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE DROP OF WATER.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap19d.jpg" width="81" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">F</span>ROM</b> fruitless genealogy he turned to the further consideration of his
+supplies. He wanted water, and in a dungeon surrounded by lime-stone
+walls and founded upon a rock, it seemed likely he would continue to
+want it. But at the farthest corner, just where the roof approached
+most closely to the floor, Hugh John could hear a <i>pat</i>, <i>pat</i> at
+regularly recurring intervals. He put his hand forward into the
+darkness, and immediately a large drop of water fell on the back of
+it. He set his tongue to it, and it tasted cool and good after the
+fustiness of the woollen gag.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John thrust forward his hand again, palm upwards this time, and
+was rewarded by finding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> that every time he counted ten slowly a large
+drop, like those in the van of a thunder storm, splashed into the
+hollow. It was tedious work, but then a dungeon is a slow place, and
+he had plenty of time. He crawled forward to be nearer to the source
+of supplies, and while trying to insinuate his head sideways
+underneath like a dog at a spout, to catch the drop in his mouth
+without the intervention of a warm hand, he felt that his knee was
+wet. He had inadvertently placed it in a small natural basin into
+which the drop had been falling for ages. Hugh John set his lips to
+it, and never did even soda-water-and-milk, that nectar of the meagre
+and uncritical gods of boyhood, taste sweeter or more refreshing.
+After he had taken a good solid drink he cleaned the sand from the
+bottom carefully, and there, ready to his hand, was a stone cup
+hollowed out of a projecting piece of the rock on which the castle was
+built. This well-anchored drinking-cup was shaped like the
+pecten-shell of pilgrimage, and set with the broad fluted end towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Thus fortified with meat and drink, for he had devoured the first of
+his rat-poison squares, or rather bolted it like a pill, General
+Napoleon sat down to reckon up his resources. He found himself in
+possession of some ten feet of fairly good cord, which had evidently
+been used for bringing cattle to the fatal Black Sheds of butcher
+Donnan. The prisoner carefully worked out all the knots, in order to
+get as much length as possible. He did not, indeed, see how such a
+thing could help him to escape, but that was not his business, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> in
+the authorities a rope was always conveyed into the cell of the pining
+captive, generally in an enormous pie.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John felt that he was indeed a pining captive, but it was the pie
+and not the rope he pined for. His dungeon was downstairs, and he did
+not see how a rope could possibly help him to get out, unless there
+was somebody at the top of the bottle ready to haul him up.</p>
+
+<p>He tried his voice again, and made the castle ring in vain. Alas! only
+the echoes came back, the pert jackdaws cried out insolently far above
+him and mocked him in a clamorous crowd from the ruined gables.</p>
+
+<p>Then his mind went off all of itself to the pleasant dining-room of
+the house of Windy Standard, where Prissy and Sir Toady Lion would
+even now be sitting down to tea. He could smell the nice refreshing
+bouquet of the hot china pot as Janet Sheepshanks poured the tea into
+the cups in a golden brown jet, and then "doused" in the cream with a
+liberal hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare I could drink up the whole tea-pot full without ever
+stopping," said Hugh John aloud, and then started at the sound of his
+own voice.</p>
+
+<p>He waited as long as possible, and then ate the second of his squares
+of bread. Then he drank the mouthful of water which had gathered in
+the stone shell. While he was in there underneath the dungeon eaves,
+he put out his hand to feel how far off the wall was. He expected
+easily to reach it, but in this he failed entirely. His hand was
+merely stretched out into space, while the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> drop fell upon his head,
+and then upon his neck, as he leaned farther and farther over in his
+efforts to find a boundary wall.</p>
+
+<p>He had noticed from the first that the floor immediately beneath the
+cup was quite dry all round, but it had not occurred to him before
+that if the drop fell constantly and regularly the basin must overflow
+in some direction. Hugh John was not logical. It is true that he liked
+finding out things by his five senses, but then that is a very
+different affair. Sammy Carter tried to argue with him sometimes, and
+make matters clear to him by pure reason. The first time Hugh John
+usually told him to "shut it." The second he simply hammered the
+logician.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, to solve the mystery, Hugh John crawled completely over his
+drinking fountain and kneeled in the damp sand at the back of the
+basin. Still he could discover no wall. Next, he put his hand forward
+as far as it would reach out, and&mdash;he <i>could feel no floor</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Very gingerly he put his foot over the edge, and at once found himself
+on the top step of a steep, narrow, and exceedingly uneven stair. The
+explorer's heart beat fast within him. He knew what it was now that he
+had found&mdash;a secret passage, perhaps ending in an enchanted cave;
+perhaps (who knew) in a pirate's den. He thought of Nipper Donnan's
+last words about the beast as big as a calf which his father had seen
+going down into the dungeon. It was a lie, of course; it must be,
+because Nipper Donnan said it; but still it was certainly very dark
+and dismal down there.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hugh John listened with his ear pointed down the stair, and his mouth
+open. He certainly did hear a low, rushing, hissing sound, which might
+be the Edam water surrounding the old tower, or&mdash;the breathing of the
+Black Beast.</p>
+
+<p>If Hugh John had had even Toady Lion with him, he would have felt no
+fears; but to be alone in silence and darkness is fitted to shake
+stronger nerves than those of a twelve-year-old boy. It was getting
+late, as he knew by the craving ache in his stomach, and also by the
+gradual dusking of the hole twelve feet above his head, through whose
+narrow throat he had been let down in the forenoon.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Now at first the Smoutchy boys had not meant to leave Hugh John in the
+dungeon all night, but only to give him a thorough fright for his
+hardihood in daring to attack their citadel. But Nipper Donnan's
+natural resolution was ever towards cruelty of all sorts, and it was
+turned to adamant upon discovering that Donald, the captured hostage
+and original cause of conflict, had in some mysterious way escaped.</p>
+
+<p>This unexpected success of the attacking party he attributed, of
+course, to Hugh John, whom, in spite of his youth, he well knew to be
+the leading spirit. Sir Toady Lion was never so much as suspected&mdash;a
+fact which would have pleased that doughty warrior but little had he
+known it.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon Nipper had gone to Halkirk Tryst to bring home two
+bullocks, which Butcher Donnan had bought there the day before; but
+his father becoming involved in some critical cattle-dealing
+transaction, for which he was unable to obtain satisfaction in cash,
+resolved that Nipper should wait till the next day, when he hoped to
+be able to accompany him home in person. So engrossed was Nipper with
+the freaks of the fair, the Aunt-Sallies, the shooting-galleries, and
+miscellaneous side-shows and ghost illusions, that he quite forgot all
+about our hero immured in the dungeon of the Castle of Windy Standard.
+Even had he remembered, he would certainly have said to himself that
+some of the other boys would be sure to go and let him out (for which
+interference with his privileges he would assuredly punch their heads
+to-morrow!)&mdash;and that in any case it served the beggar right.</p>
+
+<p>Probably, however, his father (had Nipper thought fit to mention the
+matter to him), would have taken quite a different view of the
+situation; for the butcher, with all his detestation of the owner of
+the Windy Standard estate, held Mr. Picton Smith in a wholesome awe
+which almost amounted to reverence.</p>
+
+<p>So it came about that none approached the castle all that afternoon;
+for the boys of Nipper's band were afraid to venture upon the castle
+island in the absence of their redoubtable chief, while the servants
+of Windy Standard House sought for the vanished in quite other
+directions, being led astray by the innocent assertions of Toady Lion,
+who had last seen Hugh John defending himself gallantly against
+overwhelming numbers in the corner of the field nearest to the town,
+and at least half a mile as the crow flies from the castle on the
+island.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap20.jpg" width="400" height="164" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE SECRET PASSAGE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap20d.jpg" width="90" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">F</span>OR</b> a full hour Hugh John sat on the top step of the stairs, or went
+back and forward between these and the narrow circular opening so high
+above his head, which was now filled with a sort of ruddy haze, the
+sign that the sun was setting comfortably and sedately outside, behind
+the smooth green hills in which the Cheviots broke down into the
+Solway Marshes. It was not so much that the boy dared not descend into
+the secret passage. Rather he did not wish to confront the blankness
+of disappointment. The steps might lead nowhere at all. They might
+drop off suddenly into the depths of a well.</p>
+
+<p>To prove to himself that he was quite calm, and also that he was in no
+hurry, Hugh John ate the third of his bread-squares and drank the
+water which had meantime collected in the stone shell. Heroes always
+refreshed themselves thus before an adventure.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'None knoweth when our lips shall touch the blessed bread again!'
+This prog's too hanged dry for anything!"&mdash;that was what Hugh John
+said, quoting (partly) from the "Life and Death of Arthur the King."</p>
+
+<p>Then feeling that mere poetry was off and that the time for action had
+definitely come, he tied to his rope a large fallen stone which lay in
+a corner, and crawling over the shell to the head of the steps, he
+threw it down. It did not go far, appearing to catch in some
+projection. He tried again with a like result. He pulled it up. The
+stone was dry. The opening was not, then, a well with water at the
+bottom.</p>
+
+<p>So Hugh John cautiously put his foot upon the threshold of the secret
+passage, and commenced the perilous descent. He clutched the edge of
+the top step as he let himself down. It was cold, wet, and clammy, but
+the stones beneath seemed secure enough. So he continued to descend
+till he found himself in a narrow staircase which went down and down,
+gradually twisting to the left away from the light. His heart beat
+fast, and there was a curious heavy feeling about his nostrils, which
+doubtless came from the damp mists of a confined place so close to the
+river.</p>
+
+<p>The adventurous General had descended quite a long way when he came to
+a level stone-flagged passage. He advanced twenty yards along it, and
+then put out his hands. He found himself in a narrow cell, dripping
+with wet and ankle deep in mud. The cell was so small, that by making
+a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> couple of steps Hugh John could feel it from side to side. At the
+farther end of it there was evidently a door or passage of some sort,
+but it was blocked up with fallen stones and rubbish; yet through it
+came the strangest muffled noises. Something coughed like a man in
+pain. There was also a noise as of the feet of animals moving about
+stealthily and restlessly, and he seemed even to hear voices speaking.</p>
+
+<p>A wild unreasoning fear suddenly filled the boy's heart. He turned and
+fled, stumbling hastily up the stairs by which he had so cautiously
+descended. The thought of the black beast, great as a calf, of which
+Nipper Donnan had spoken, came upon him and almost mastered him. Yet
+all the time he knew that Nipper had only said it to frighten him. But
+it was now dark night, even in the upper dungeon. He was alone in a
+haunted castle, and, as the gloaming settled down, Hugh John cordially
+agreed with Sir David Brewster, who is reputed to have said, "I do not
+believe in ghosts, but I am afraid of them."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of all his gallantry of the day, and the resolutions he had
+made that his prison record should be strictly according to rule, Hugh
+John's sudden panic took complete hold of him. He sat down under the
+opening of the dungeon, and for the first time cried bitter tears,
+excusing himself on the ground that there was no one there to see him,
+and anyway he could easily leave that part out when he came to write
+his journal. About this time he also slipped in a surreptitious
+prayer. He thought that at least it could do no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> harm. Prissy had
+induced him to try this method sometimes, but mostly he was afraid to
+let her know about it afterwards, because it made Prissy so unbearably
+conceited. But after all this was in a dungeon, and many very
+respectable prisoners quite regularly said their prayers, as any one
+may see for themselves in the books.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Hugh John, explanatorily afterwards, "it's very easy
+for them. They have nothing else to do. They haven't to wash, and take
+baths, and comb their hair, and be ordered about! It's easy to be good
+when you're leading a natural life."</p>
+
+<p>This was Hugh John's prayer, and a model for any soldier's
+pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Father Witch-Charta-Nevin" (this he considered a Christian name
+and surname, curious but quite authoritative), "help me to get out of
+this beastly hole. Help me to lick Nipper Donnan till he can't stand,
+and bust Sammy Carter for running away. For we are all miserable
+sinners. God bless father and Prissy, Arthur George (I wonder where
+the little beast went to&mdash;guess he sneaked&mdash;just wait!), Janet
+Sheepshanks, Mary Jane Housemaid, and everybody about the house and
+down at the stables, except Bella Murdoch, that is a clash-bag and a
+tell-tale-tit. And make me a good boy. For Jesus' sake. Aymen."</p>
+
+<p>That the last petition was by no means a superfluous one every reader
+of this history will agree. Hugh John very carefully said "Ay-men"
+now, because he had said "A-men" in the morning. He noticed that his
+father always said "Ay-men"<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> very solemnly at the end of a prayer,
+while Prissy, who liked going to church even on week days (a low
+dodge!), insisted upon "A-men." So Hugh John used "Ay-men" and "A-men"
+time about, just to show that there was no ill-feeling. Thus early in
+life does the leaven of Gallio (who "cared for none of these things")
+begin to show itself. Hugh John was obviously going to be a very
+pronounced Broad Churchman.</p>
+
+<p>The prayer did the captive General much good. He was not now nearly so
+much afraid of the beasts. The hole did not seem to yawn so black
+beneath him; and though he kept his ear on the cock for anything that
+might come at him up the stairs, he could with some tolerable
+composure sit still and wait for the morning. He decided that so soon
+as it was even a little light, he would try again and find out if he
+could not remove the rubbish from the further door.</p>
+
+<p>The midsummer morn was not long in coming&mdash;shorter far indeed to Hugh
+John than to the anxious hearts that were scattered broadcast over the
+face of the country seeking for him. Scarcely had the boy sat down to
+wait for the daylight when his head sank on his breast. Presently he
+swayed gently to the side, and turning over with a contented little
+murmur, he curled himself up like a tired puppy and went fast asleep.
+When he awoke, a fresher pink radiance than that of eventide filled
+the aperture above his head&mdash;the glow of the wide, sweet, blushful
+dawn which flooded all the eastern sky outside the tall grey walls of
+the Castle of Windy Standard.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hugh John rose, stretched himself, yawned, and looked about him in
+surprise. There was no Toady Lion in a little white ship on four iron
+legs, moored safe alongside him; no open door through into Prissy's
+room; no birch-tree outside the window, glimmering purest white and
+delicatest pink in the morning light&mdash;nothing, in short, that had
+greeted his waking eyes every morning of his life hitherto.</p>
+
+<p>But there were compensations. He was a prisoner. He had endured a
+night in a dungeon. His hair would almost certainly have turned pure
+white, or at least streaky. What boy of his age had ever done these
+things since the little Dauphin, about whom he was so sorry, and over
+whose fate he had shed such bitter tears? Had Sammy Carter? Hugh John
+smiled a sarcastic and derisive smile. Sammy Carter indeed! He would
+just like to see Sammy Carter try it once! <i>He</i> would have been dead
+by this time, if he had had to go through the tenth of what he (Hugh
+John) had undergone. Had Mike or Peter? They were big and strong. They
+smoked pipes. But they had never been tortured, never shut up in a
+dungeon with wild beasts in the next compartment, and no hasp on the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>The staircase&mdash;the secret passage! Hugh John's heart fluttered wildly.
+He might even yet get back in time for breakfast. There would be
+porridge&mdash;and egg-and-bacon&mdash;oh! crikey, yes, and it was kidney
+morning. Hugh John's mouth watered. There was no need of the cool
+fluid in the shell of limestone now! Could there indeed
+be such
+dainties in the world? It did not seem possible. And yet that very
+morning&mdash;he meant the morning before&mdash;no, surely it must have been in
+some other life infinitely remote, he had grumbled because he had not
+had cream instead of milk to his porridge, and because the bacon was
+not previously crisp enough. He felt that if ever he were privileged
+to taste as good bacon again, he would become religious like
+Prissy&mdash;or take some such extreme measure as that.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> </p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap20i.jpg" width="400" height="558" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;OVER THE CLOSELY PACKED WOOLLY BACKS HE SAW A STRETCH OF RIPPLED RIVER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hugh John had no appetite for the "poison squares" now. He tried one,
+and it seemed to be composed in equal parts of sawdust and the
+medicament called "Rough-on-rats!" He tried the water in the shell,
+and that was somewhat better; but just to think of tea from the
+urn&mdash;soft ivory cream floating on the top, curded a little but light
+as blown sea-foam! Ah, he could wait no longer. The life of a prisoner
+was all very well, but he could not even get materials with which to
+write up his diary till he got home. For this purpose it was necessary
+that he should immediately make his escape. Also it was kidney
+morning, and if he did not hurry that little wretch Toady Lion would
+have eaten up every snatch. He resolved to lose no time.</p>
+
+<p>So with eager steps he descended the steep wet stairs into the little
+stone chamber, which smelt fearfully damp and clammy, just as if all
+the snails in the world had been crawling there.</p>
+
+<p>"I bet the poor chap down here had toothache," said Hugh John,
+shivering as he went forward to attack the pile of fallen stones in
+front of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> arched doorway. For an hour he worked most manfully,
+pulling out such as he could manage to loosen, and tossing others
+aside. Thus he gradually undercut the mass which blocked up the door,
+till, with a warning creak or two the whole pitched forward and
+inward, giving the daring pioneer just time to leap aside before it
+came toppling into the narrow cell, which it more than half filled. As
+soon as the avalanche had settled, Hugh John staggered over the top of
+the fallen stones and broken <i>d&eacute;bris</i> to the small door. As his head
+came on a level with the opening he saw a strange sight. He looked
+into a little ruined turret, the floor of which was of smoothest green
+sward&mdash;or, rather, which would have been of green sward had it not
+been thickly covered with sheep, all lying placidly shoulder to
+shoulder, and composedly drawing in the morning air through their
+nostrils as if no such word as "mutton" existed in the vocabularies of
+any language.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond and over the closely packed woolly backs he saw a stretch of
+rippled river, faceted with diamond and ruby points, where the rising
+sun just touched the tips of the little chill wavelets which were
+fretted by the wind of morning, that gust of cooler air which the dawn
+pushes before it round the world. Hugh John was free!</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap21.jpg" width="400" height="307" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE RETURN FROM THE BASTILE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap21d.jpg" width="91" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">H</span>E</b> stepped down easily and lightly among the sheep. They rose without
+surprise or disorder, still with strict attention to business
+continuing to munch at the grass they had plucked as they lay, for all
+the world as if a famous adventure-seeking general had been only the
+harmless but boresome shepherd who came to drive them out to pastures
+new. For all the surprise they showed they might have been accustomed
+from their fleeciest infancy to small, dirty, scratched, bruised,
+infinitely tattered imps of imperial descent arriving suddenly out of
+unexplored secret passages in ancient fortresses.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The great commander's first instinct was to rush for home and so make
+sure that Cook Mary the Second had done enough kidneys for breakfast.
+His second idea, and one more worthy of his military reputation, was
+carefully to conceal the entrance to the doorway, by which he had
+emerged from the passage he had so wonderfully discovered. No one knew
+how soon the knowledge might prove useful to him. As a matter of
+attack and defence the underground passage was certainly not to be
+neglected.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hugh John drove the sheep before him out of the fallen tower. As
+he did so one of them coughed, stretching its neck and holding its
+head near the ground. He now knew the origin of the sound which
+had&mdash;no, not frightened him (of course not!), but slightly surprised
+him the evening before.</p>
+
+<p>And, lo! there, immediately in front of him as he emerged, was the
+Edam Water, sliding and rippling on under its willows, the slim,
+silvery-grey leaves showing their white under-sides just as usual.
+There, across the river, were the cattle, standing already knee-deep
+in the shallows, their tails nervy and switchy on the alert for the
+morning's crop of flies. There was Mike going to drive them in to be
+milked. Yonder in the far distance was a black speck which must be
+Peter polishing straps and buckles hung on a pin by the stable door.</p>
+
+<p>"Horrid beasts every one of them!" said Hugh John indignantly to
+himself, "going on all as comfortable as you please, just as if I had
+not been pining in a dungeon cell for years and years."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then setting his cramped wet legs in motion, General Napoleon
+commenced a masterly retreat in the direction of home. He dashed for
+the stepping-stones, but he was in too much of a hurry to make sure of
+hitting them. He slipped from the first and went above the knee into
+the clear cool Edam Water. After that he simply floundered through,
+and presently emerged dripping on the other side. Along the woodland
+paths he scurried and scampered. He dashed across glades, scattering
+the rabbits and kicking up the dew in the joy of recovered freedom. He
+climbed a stone dyke into the home park, because he had no time to go
+round by the stile. He brought half of the fence down in his haste,
+scraping his knee as he did so. But so excited was he that he scarcely
+felt the additional bruise.</p>
+
+<p>He ran up the steps. The front door was standing wide open, with the
+disreputable and tell-tale air of a reveller who has been out all
+night in evening dress. All doors have this look which have not been
+decently shut and locked during the dark hours. There was no one in
+the hall&mdash;no one in the dining-room&mdash;no one in the schoolroom, where
+the children's tea of the night before had never been cleared away.
+Hugh John noticed that his own place had been set, and the clean cup
+and plate and the burnished unused knife struck him as infinitely
+pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>But he was hungry, and had no time to waste on mere feelings. His
+inner man was too insistent. He knew well where the pantry was (trust
+him for that!), and he went towards it at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> the rate of twenty miles an
+hour. He wished he had remembered to add a petition to his prayer that
+it might be unlocked. But it was now too late for this, so he must
+just trust in an unjogged Providence and take his chances.</p>
+
+<p>The gods were favourable. They had evidently agreed that for one small
+boy he had suffered enough for that day. The pantry was unlocked.
+There was a lovely beefsteak pie standing on a shelf. Hugh John lifted
+it off, set it on the candle box, ungratefully throwing Sambo Soulis
+on the floor in order to make elbow room, and then with a knife and
+fork he proceeded to demolish the pie. The knife and fork he first put
+his hands on had obviously been used. But did General Napoleon stop to
+go to the schoolroom for clean ones? No&mdash;several thousand times no!
+Those who can, for a single moment, entertain such thoughts, are very
+far from having yet made the acquaintance of General Smith. Why, he
+did not even wait to say grace&mdash;though he usually repeated
+half-a-dozen the first thing in the morning, so as to have the job
+well over for the day. It is all right to say grace, but it is such a
+fag to have to remember before every meal. So Hugh John went into the
+wholesale business.</p>
+
+<p>He was half through the pie before he looked about for something to
+drink. Lemonade, if it could be found, would meet the case. Hugh John
+felt this keenly, and, lo! the friendly Fates, with a smile, had
+planted a whole case of it at his feet. He knocked in the patent
+stopper with the handle of his knife (all things must yield to
+military<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> necessity), and, after the first draught, what more was
+there left to live for&mdash;except a second bottle and the rest of the
+pie?</p>
+
+<p>He was just doing his best to live up to the nice cool jelly, which
+melted in a kind of lingering chill of delight down his throat, when
+Janet Sheepshanks appeared in the doorway. Wearily and disheartenedly,
+she had come in to prepare for a breakfast which no one in all Windy
+Standard would eat. Something curious about the feeling of the house
+had struck her as she entered. She had gone from room to room, divided
+between hope and apprehension, and, lo! there before her, in her own
+ravished pantry, tuck-full of beefsteak pie and lemonade, sat the boy
+for whom they were even then dragging the deepest pools of the Edam.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank the Lord, laddie!" cried Janet, clasping her hands in
+devout thankfulness, "that He hath spared ye to your widowed
+faither&mdash;and to me, your auld unworthy nurse!"</p>
+
+<p>The tears were running down her cheeks. Somehow her face had quite
+suddenly grown grey and worn. She looked years older than she had done
+yesterday. Hugh John paused and looked at her marvelling. He had a
+heavily laden fork half-way to his mouth. He wondered what all the
+fuss was about.</p>
+
+<p>"Do get me some mustard, Janet," he said, swinging his wet legs; "and
+where on earth have you put the pickles?"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>In the cross-examination which naturally followed,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+Hugh John kept his
+own counsel, like the prudent warrior he was. He left Janet and the
+others to suppose that, in trying to escape from his foes, he had
+"fallen" into the castle dungeon, and none of the household servants
+knew enough of the topography of the ancient stronghold to know that,
+if he had done so, he would probably have broken his neck. He said
+nothing about Nipper Donnan or any of the band by name. Simply and
+truthfully he designated them as "some bad boys," which certainly was
+in no way overstating the case.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps if his father had been at home he could not have hoodwinked
+his questioners so easily and completely. Mr. Picton Smith would
+certainly have gone deeper into the business than Janet Sheepshanks,
+who alternately slapped and scolded, petted and spoilt our hero all
+day long.</p>
+
+<p>For some time Hugh John smelt of Araby the Blest and Spicy Ind; for he
+had ointments and liniments, rags and plasters innumerable scattered
+over his person in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>He borrowed a cigarette (it was a very old and dry one) from the
+mantelpiece of his father's workroom, and retired to the shelter of
+the elm-tree to hold his court and take private evidence upon the
+events of yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>As he went across the yard Black Donald ran bleating to him, and
+playfully butted at his leg.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John stopped in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Who found him?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Toady Lion proudly stepped forward. He had a garden rake in his
+hand, with which
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+the moment before he had been poking Donald in the
+ribs, and making his life a burden to him generally.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap21i.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;I CREATE YOU GENERAL OF THE COMM&#39;SARIAT.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He began to speak, but Hugh John stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>"Salute, you little beast!" he said sternly.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly Toady Lion's hand went up. He did not object to salute, but he
+had a vague sense that, as a matter of personal dignity, not even a
+general had a right to speak to a private thus&mdash;much less to a
+commissariat sergeant. However, what he had to say was so triumphant
+and overpowering that he waived the point and touched his forehead in
+due form.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> did&mdash;nobody but me. I d'livered him, all by mineself. I cutted
+the rope and d'livered Donald. Yes, I did&mdash;Prissy will tell 'oo. I
+wented into the Black Sheds all alone-y&mdash;and d'livered him!"</p>
+
+<p>His words came tumbling over each other in his haste. But he laid
+strong emphasis upon the word "delivered," which he had just learned
+from Prissy. He meant to use it very often all that day, because it
+was a good word, and nobody knew the meaning of it except
+Quite-Grown-Ups.</p>
+
+<p>General Napoleon Smith put on his most field-marshalish expression,
+and summoned Sir Toady Lion to approach.</p>
+
+<p>He tapped him on the shoulder and said in a grand voice, "I create you
+General of the Comm'sariat for distinguished conduct in the field.
+From this time forth you can keep the key of the biscuit box, but I
+know just how many are in. So mind out!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was good, and Toady Lion was duly grateful; but he wished his
+good fortune put into a more concrete form.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I have the biggest and nicerest saucer of the scrapings of the
+preserving-pan to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John considered a moment. An impulse of generosity swept over
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can," he said nobly. Then a cross wave of caution caused him
+to add&mdash;"that is, if it isn't rasps!"</p>
+
+<p>Now the children of the house of Windy Standard were permitted to
+clean out the boiling-pan in the fruit-preserving season with worn
+horn spoons, in order not to scratch the copper or crack the enamel.
+And rasp was Hugh John's favourite.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh," said Toady Lion, turning up a contemptuous nose. "Thank 'oo for
+nuffin! I like wasps just as much as 'oo, Hugh John Picton Smiff!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't answer me back, sir!"&mdash;Hugh John was using his father's words
+and manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Sall if I like," said Toady Lion, beginning to whimper. "Sall go and
+tell Janet Sheepshanks, and she'll give me yots of wasps! Not
+scrapin's neither, but weal-weal wasps&mdash;so there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Toady Lion, I shall degrade you to the ranks. You are a little pig
+and a disgrace to the army."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't care, I wants wasps&mdash;and I d'livered Donald," reiterated the
+Disgrace of the Army.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John once more felt the difficulty of arguing with Toady Lion. He
+was altogether too young to be logical. So he said, "Toady
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+Lion, you
+little ass, stop snivelling&mdash;and I'll give you a bone button and the
+half of a knife."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's see them," said Toady Lion, cautiously uncovering one eye by
+lifting up the edge of the covering palm. His commanding officer
+produced the articles of peace, and Toady Lion examined them
+carefully, still with one eye. They proved satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p>"All yight!" said he, "I won't cry no more&mdash;but I wants three saucers
+full of the wasps too!"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap22.jpg" width="400" height="285" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">MUTINY IN THE CAMP.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap22d.jpg" width="92" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">H</span>UGH</b> John was holding his court under the weeping-elm, and was being
+visited in detail by his army. The Carters had come over, and, after a
+vigorous engagement and pursuit, he had even forgiven Sammy for his
+lack of hardihood in not resisting to the death at the great battle of
+the Black Sheds.</p>
+
+<p>"But it hurts so confoundedly," argued Sammy; "if it didn't, I
+shouldn't mind getting killed a bit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Look at me," said Hugh John; "I'm all over peels and I don't
+complain."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I dare say&mdash;it's all very well for you," retorted Sammy, "you
+like to fight, and it was you that began the fuss, but I only fight
+because you'd jolly-well-hammer me if I didn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Course I would," agreed his officer, "don't you know that's what
+generals are for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," concluded Sammy Carter, summing the matter up philosophically,
+"'tain't my castle anyway."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The review was over. In the safe quiet of the elm-tree shelter General
+Napoleon might have been seen taking his well-earned repose. He was
+surrounded by his entire following&mdash;except, of course, the two
+Generals of Division, who were engaged in sweeping out the
+stable-yard. But these were considered socially supernumerary at any
+rate, except (a somewhat important exception) when there was fighting
+to be done.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that we've done so very much to make a brag about
+anyhow," began Sammy Carter.</p>
+
+<p>General Smith dexterously caught him on the ear with a young turnip,
+which in company with several friends had wandered in of its own
+accord from the nearest field on the home farm.</p>
+
+<p>"I should say <i>you</i> didn't do much!" he sneered pointedly; "you hooked
+it as hard as you could after the first skirmish. Why, you haven't got
+a single sore place about you to show for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have!" retorted Sammy in high indignation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap22i.jpg" width="400" height="324" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SAMMY CARTER MUTINOUS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's see it then!" commanded his general in a kindlier tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't&mdash;ladies present!" said Sammy succinctly, into the retreating
+rear-guard of whose division the triumphant enemy had charged with the
+pike snatched from his sister's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"All <i>my</i> wounds are in front. <i>I</i> fought and died with my face to the
+foe!" said Hugh John in his noblest manner.</p>
+
+<p>"And I d'livered Donald!" contributed Toady Lion complacently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>that</i> ain't anything," sneered Sammy Carter, who was not in a
+good humour. His tone roused General Napoleon, who had the strong
+family feelings of all the Buonapartes.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Sammy, or I'll come and kick you. None of us did anything
+except Toady Lion. You ran away, and I got taken prisoner. Toady Lion
+is the only man among us!"</p>
+
+<p>"I runned away too&mdash;at first," confessed the candid Toady Lion, who
+felt that he had so much real credit that he did not need to take a
+grain more than he deserved. "But I comed back quick&mdash;and I d'livered
+Donald out of prison, anyway&mdash;I did!"</p>
+
+<p>Sammy Carter evidently had a sharp retort ready on the tip of his
+tongue, but he knew well the price he would have to pay for uttering
+it. Hugh John's eye was upon him, his right hand was closing on a
+bigger turnip&mdash;so Sammy forbore. But he kicked his feet more
+discontentedly than ever into the turf.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, changing the venue of the argument,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+"I don't think
+much of your old castle anyway. My father could have twice as good a
+castle if he liked&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, 'course he could"&mdash;Hugh John's voice was distinctly ironical&mdash;"he
+might plant it on a peaty soil, and grow it from seed in two years; or
+perhaps he would like a cutting off ours!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davenant Carter was a distinguished agriculturist and florist.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you speak against my father!" cried Sammy Carter, glowering at
+General Napoleon in a way in which privates do not often look at their
+Commanders-in-Chief.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's touching your father?" the latter said, a little more
+soothingly. "See here, Sammy, you've got your coat on wrong side out
+to-day. Go home and sleep on it. 'Tisn't my fault if you did run away,
+and got home before your sister&mdash;with a blue place on your back."</p>
+
+<p>Sammy Carter flung out from under the shelter of the elm and went in
+search of Prissy, from whom in all his moods he was sure of comfort
+and understanding. He was a somewhat delicate boy, and generally
+speaking hated quarrelling as much as she did; but he had a clever
+tongue, which often brought him into trouble, and, like most other
+humorists, he did not at all relish a jest at his own expense.</p>
+
+<p>As he went, he was pursued and stung by the brutally unrefined taunts
+of Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, go on to Prissy; I think she has a spare doll. Go and play at
+'house'! It's all you're good for!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Thus encouraged by their general, the rest of the company&mdash;that is,
+Cissy and Sir Toady Lion, joined in singing a certain stirring and
+irritating refrain popular among the youth of Bordershire.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Lassie-boy, lassie-boy, fie for shame!</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Coward's your nature, and Jennie's your name!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Sammy Carter stood poised for flight with his eyes blazing with anger.</p>
+
+<p>"You think a lot of your old tumble-down castle; but the town boys
+have got it in spite of you; and what's more, they've a flag flying on
+it with 'Down with Smith!' on it. I saw it. Hooray for the town boys!"</p>
+
+<p>And with this Parthian arrow he disappeared at full speed down the
+avenue.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Hugh John was paralysed. He tried to pooh-pooh the
+matter, but he could not but admit that it might very well be true; so
+he instantly despatched Toady Lion for Prissy, who, as we know, was
+the fleetest runner of them all. Upon her reporting for duty, the
+General sent her to bring back word if the state of affairs was as
+reported.</p>
+
+<p>It was. A large red flag was flying, with the inscription in white
+upon it, "Down with Smith!" while above the inscription there was what
+looked like a rude attempt at a death's head and crossbones. Hugh John
+knew this ensign in a moment. Once upon a time, in his wild youth, he
+had served under it as a pirate on the high seas; but of this he now
+uttered no word.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was in such moments that the true qualities of the born leader came
+out in General Napoleon Smith. Instantly he dismissed his attendants,
+put his finger to his forehead, and sat down to draw a map of the
+campaign in the genuine Napoleonic manner.</p>
+
+<p>At last, after quite a while, he rapped upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I have it," he cried, "we must find an ally." The problem was
+solved.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap23.jpg" width="400" height="353" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">CISSY CARTER, BOYS' GIRL.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap23d.jpg" width="97" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">N</span>OW</b> Prissy Smith was a girls' girl, while Cissy Carter was a boys'
+girl. That was mainly the difference between them. Not that Prissy did
+not love boys' play upon occasion, for which indeed her fleetness of
+foot particularly fitted her. Also if Hugh John teased her she never
+cried nor told on him, but waited till he was looking the other way
+and then gave him something for himself on the ear. But on the whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+she was a girls' girl, and her idea of the way to fight was slapping
+her dolls when they were naughty.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Mr. Picton Smith said that most religion was summed up in two
+maxims, "Don't tell lies," and "Don't tell tales." To these Hugh John
+added a third, at least equal in canonicity, "Don't be dasht-mean." In
+these you have briefly comprehended all the Law and the Prophets of
+the house of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy Carter, however, was a tom-boy: you could not get over that.
+There was no other word for her. She never played with girls if she
+could better herself. She despised dolls; she hated botany and the
+piano. Her governess had a hard but lively time of it, and had it not
+been for her brother Sammy coaching her in short cuts to knowledge,
+she would have been left far behind in the exact sciences of spelling
+and the multiplication-table. As it was, between a tendency to
+scramble for scraps of information and the run of a pretty wide
+library, Cissy knew more than any one gave her credit for.</p>
+
+<p>On one memorable occasion it was Cissy's duty to take her grandmother
+for a walk. Now the Dowager Mrs. Davenant Carter was the dearest and
+most fairy-like old lady in the world, and Cissy was very proud to
+walk into Edam with her. For her grandmother had not forgotten how
+good confections tasted to girls of thirteen, and there was quite a
+nice shop in the High Street. Their rose-drops especially were almost
+as good as doing-what-you-were-told-not-to, and their peppermints<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> for
+use in church had quite the force of a religious observance.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Davenant Carter had a weak eye, and whenever she went out,
+she put a large green shade over it. So one day it happened that Cissy
+was walking abroad with her grandmother, with a vision of
+rose-drop-shop in the offing. As they were passing one of the villas
+nearest to their house, a certain rude boy, Wedgwood Baker the name of
+him, seeing the lame old lady tripping by on her stick like a fairy
+godmother, called out loudly "Go it, old blind patch!"</p>
+
+<p>He was sorry the minute after, for in one moment Cissy Carter had
+pulled off her white thread gloves, climbed the fence, and had landed
+what Hugh John would have called "One, two, three&mdash;and a tiger" upon
+the person of Master Wedgwood Baker.</p>
+
+<p>I do not say that all Cissy Carter's blows were strictly according to
+Queensberry rules. But at any rate the ungallant youth was promptly
+doubled up, and retreated yelling into the house, as it were falling
+back upon his reserves.</p>
+
+<p>That same evening the card of Mrs. Baker, Laurel Villa, Edam, was
+brought to the diningtable of Mrs. Davenant Carter.</p>
+
+<p>"The lady declines to come in, m'am. She says she must see you
+immediately at the door," said the scandalised housemaid.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy's mother went into the hall with the card in her hand, and a
+look of gentle surprised inquiry on her face. There, on the doorstep
+was Mrs. Baker, with a young and hopeful but sadly
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+damaged Wedgwood
+tagging behind her, like a weak-minded punt in tow of an ancient
+threedecker.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap23i.jpg" width="250" height="450" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;LOOK AT HIM, MADAM,&#39; SAID MRS. BAKER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The injured lady began at once a voluble complaint.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at him, madam. That is the handiwork of your daughter. The poor
+boy was quietly digging in the garden, cultivating a few unpretending
+flowers, when your daughter, madam, suddenly flew at him over the
+railings and struck him on the face so furiously that, if I had not
+come to the rescue, the dear boy might have lost the use of both his
+eyes. But most happily I heard the disturbance and went out and
+stopped her."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, this is <i>very</i> sad," faltered little Mrs. Carter; "I'm sure
+I don't know what can have come over Cissy. Are you sure there is no
+mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mistake! No, indeed, madam, there is no mistake, I saw her with my
+own eyes&mdash;a great girl twice Wedgwood's size."</p>
+
+<p>At this point Mr. Davenant Carter came to the door with his
+table-napkin in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this&mdash;what's this?" he demanded in his quick way&mdash;"Cissy and
+your son been fighting?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed, sir," said the complainant indignantly; "this dear boy
+never so much as lifted a hand to her. Ah, here she comes&mdash;the
+very&mdash;ahem, young lady herself."</p>
+
+<p>All ignorant of the trouble in store for her, Cissy came whistling
+through the laurels with half-a-dozen dogs at her heels. At sight of
+her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> Mrs. Baker bridled and perked her chin with indignation till all
+her black bugles clashed and twinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Cissy," said her father sternly. "Did you strike this boy
+to-day in front of his mother's gate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did," quoth the undaunted Cissy, "and what's more, I'll do it
+again, and give him twice as much, if he ever dares to call <i>my</i>
+grandmother 'Old Blind Patch' again&mdash;I don't care if he is two years
+and three months older than me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you call names at my mother?" demanded Cissy's father, towering
+up very big, and looking remarkably stern.</p>
+
+<p>Master Wedgwood had no denial ready; but he had his best boots on and
+he looked very hard at them.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Wedgwood dear, tell them that you did not call names. You know
+you could not!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never called nobody names. It was her that hit me!" snivelled
+Wedgwood.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you hear," said his mother, as if that settled the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you little liar! Wait till I catch you out!" said Cissy, going a
+step nearer as if she would like to begin again. "I'll teach you to
+tell lies on me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Baker of Laurel Villa held up her hands so that the lace mitts
+came together like the fingers of a figure of grief upon a tomb. "What
+a dreadful girl!" she said, looking up as if to ask Heaven to support
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davenant Carter remembered his position<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> as a county magistrate.
+Also he desired to stand well with all his neighbours.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," he said to Mrs. Baker, in the impressive tone in which he
+addressed public meetings, "I regret exceedingly that you should have
+been put to this trouble. I think that for the future you will have no
+reason to complain of my daughter. Will you allow me to conduct you
+across the policies by the shorter way? Cissy, go to bed <i>at once</i>,
+and stop there till I bid you get up! That will teach you to take the
+law into you own hands when your father is a Justice of the Peace!"</p>
+
+<p>This he said in such a stern voice that Mrs. Baker was much flattered
+and quite appeased. He walked with the lady to the small gate in the
+boundary wall, opened it with his private key, and last of all shook
+hands with his visitor with the most distinguished courtesy. Some day
+he meant to stand for the burgh and her brothers were well-to-do
+grocers in the town.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," she said in parting, "I hope you will not be too severe with
+the young lady. Perhaps after all she was only a trifle impulsive!"</p>
+
+<p>"Discipline must be maintained," said Mr. Davenant Carter sternly,
+closing, however, at the same time the eyelid most remote from Mrs.
+Baker of Laurel Villa.</p>
+
+<p>"It shows what a humbug pa is," muttered Cissy, as she went upstairs;
+"he knows very well it is bed-time anyway. I don't believe he is angry
+one bit!"</p>
+
+<p>When her father came in, he looked over at his wife. I am afraid he
+deliberately winked, though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> in the interests of morality I trust I
+may be mistaken. For how could a Justice of the Peace and a future
+Member of Parliament demean himself to wink?</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he said to Mrs. Carter, "what does Cissy like most of all for
+supper?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little bit of chicken and bread-sauce done with broiled bacon&mdash;at
+least I think so, dear&mdash;why do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>He called the tablemaid.</p>
+
+<p>"Walbridge," he said sternly, "take that disgraceful girl up the
+breast and both wings of a chicken, also three nice pieces of crisp
+bacon, four new potatoes with butter-sauce, some raspberrytart with
+thick cream and plenty of sugar&mdash;and a whole bottle of zoedone. But
+mind you, <i>nothing else</i>, as you value your place&mdash;not another bite
+for such a bold bad girl. This will teach her to go about the country
+thrashing boys two years older than herself!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked over across the table at his son.</p>
+
+<p>"Let this be a lesson to you, sir," he said, frowning sternly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Sammy meekly, winking in his turn very confidentially
+at a fly which was having a free wash and brush-up on the edge of the
+fingerbowl, after completing the round of the dishes on the dinner
+table.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap24.jpg" width="400" height="292" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME&mdash;AND ENDS THERE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap24d.jpg" width="95" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">N</span>OW</b> all this has nothing to do with the story, except to show what
+sort of a girl Cissy Carter was, and how she differed from Prissy
+Smith&mdash;who in these circumstances would certainly have gone home and
+prayed that God would in time make Wedgwood Baker a better boy,
+instead of tackling missionary work on the spot with her knuckles as
+Cissy Carter did.</p>
+
+<p>It was several days later, and the flag of the Smoutchy boys still
+flew defiantly over the battlements of the castle. The great General
+was growing discouraged, for in little more than a week his father
+might return from London, and would doubtless take up the matter
+himself. Then, with the coming of policemen and the putting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> up of
+fences and notice-boards, all romance would be gone forever. Besides
+which, most of the town boys would have to go back to school, and the
+Carters' governess and their own would be returning to annoy them with
+lessons, and still more uncalled for aggravations as to manners.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy Carter had given Sammy the slip, and started to come over by
+herself to Windy Standard. It was the afternoon, and she came past the
+gipsy encampment which Mr. Picton Smith had found on some unenclosed
+land on the other side of the Edam Water, and which, spite of the
+remonstrances of his brother-landlords, he had permitted to remain
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The permanent Ishmaelitish establishment consisted of about a dozen
+small huts, some entirely constructed of rough stone, others of turf
+with only a stone interposed here and there; but all had mud chimneys,
+rough doorways, and windows glazed with the most extraordinary
+collection of old glass, rags, wisps of straw, and oiled cloth. Dogs
+barked hoarsely and shrilly according to their kind, ragged clothes
+fluttered on extemporised lines, or made a parti-coloured patch-work
+on the grass and on the gorse bushes which grew all along the bank.
+There were also a score of tents and caravans dotted here and there
+about the rough ground. Half-a-dozen swarthy lads rose silently and
+stared after Cissy as she passed.</p>
+
+<p>A tall limber youth sitting on a heap of stones examining a dog's
+back, looked up and scowled as she came by. Cissy saw an unhealed
+wound and stopped.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let me look at him," she said, reaching out her hand for the white
+fox-terrier.</p>
+
+<p>"Watch out, miss," said the lad, "he's nasty with the sore. He'll bite
+quick as mustard!"</p>
+
+<p>"He won't bite me," said Cissy, taking up the dog calmly, which after
+a doubtful sniff submitted to be handled without a murmur.</p>
+
+<p>"This should be thoroughly washed, and have some boracic ointment put
+on it at once," said Cissy, with the quick emphasis of an expert.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't got none o' the stuff," said the youth sullenly, "nor can't
+afford to buy it. Besides, who's to wash him first off, and him in a
+temper like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come over with me to Oaklands and I'll get you some ointment. I'll
+wash him myself in a minute."</p>
+
+<p>The boy whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a good 'un," he said, "likely thing me to go to Oaklands!"</p>
+
+<p>"And why?" said Cissy; "it's my father's place. I've just come from
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"Then your father's a beak, and I ain't going a foot&mdash;not if I know
+it," said the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"A what&mdash;oh! you mean a magistrate&mdash;so he is. Well, then, if you feel
+like that about it I'll run over by myself, and sneak some ointment
+from the stables."</p>
+
+<p>And with a careless wave of the hand, a pat on the head and a "Poo'
+fellow then" to the white fox-terrier, she was off.</p>
+
+<p>The youth cast his voice over his shoulders to a dozen companions who
+were hiding in the broom
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+behind. His face and tone were both full of
+surprise and admiration.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap24i1.jpg" width="400" height="310" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;LET ME LOOK AT HIM,&#39; SHE SAID.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Say, chaps, did you hear her? She said she'd 'sneak' the ointment
+from the stables. I tell 'ee what, she'll be a rare good plucked one
+that. And her a beak's daughter! Her mother mun ha' been a piece!"</p>
+
+<p>It was half-an-hour before Cissy got back with the pot of boracic
+dressing and some lint.</p>
+
+<p>"I had to wait till the coachman had gone to his tea," she explained,
+"and then send the stable boy with a message to the village to get him
+out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>The youth on the stone heap secretly signalled his delight to the
+appreciative audience hiding in the broom bushes.</p>
+
+<p>Then Cissy ordered him to get her some warm water, which he brought
+from one of the kettles swinging on the birchen tripods scattered here
+and there about the encampment.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon, taking the fox-terrier firmly on her knee and turning up
+the skirt of her dress, she washed away all the dirt and matted hair,
+cleansing the wound thoroughly.</p>
+
+<p>The poor beast only made a faint whining sound at intervals. Then she
+applied the antiseptic dressing, and bound the lint tightly down with
+a cincture about the animal. She fitted his neck with a neat collar of
+her own invention, made out of the wicker covering of a Chianti wine
+flask which she brought with her from Oaklands.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said, "that will keep him from biting at it, and you must
+see that he doesn't<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> scratch off the bandage. I'll be passing
+to-morrow and will drop in. Here's the pot of ointment. Put some more
+on in the morning and some again at night, and he will be all right in
+a day or two."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank'ee, miss," said the lad, touching his cap with the natural
+courtesy which is inherent in the best blood of his race. "I don't
+mean to forget, you be sure."</p>
+
+<p>Cissy waved her hand to him gaily, as she went off towards Windy
+Standard. Then all at once she stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, what is your name? Whom shall I ask for if you are not
+about to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Billy Blythe," he said, after a moment's pause to consider whether
+the daughter of a magistrate was to be trusted; "but I'll be here
+to-morrow right enough!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you tell the beak's daughter your name, Bill, you blooming
+Johnny?" asked a companion. "You'll get thirty days for that sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Fish Lee," said the owner of the dog; "the girl is main
+right. D'ye think she'd ha' said 'sneaked' if she wasn't. G'way,
+Bacon-chump!"</p>
+
+<p>Cissy Carter took the road to Windy Standard with a good conscience.
+She was not troubled about the "sneaking," though she hoped that the
+coachman would not miss that pot of ointment.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the avenue, just where it joined the dusty road to the
+town of Edam, she met Sir Toady Lion. He had his arms full of valuable
+sparkling jewellery, or what in the distance looked like it as the sun
+shone upon some winking yellow metal.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion began talking twenty to the dozen as soon as ever he came
+within Cissy's range.</p>
+
+<p>"Oo!" he cried, "what 'oo fink? Father sented us each a great big
+half-crown from London&mdash;all to spend. And we have spended it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Cissy genially, "and what did you buy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Us all wented down to Edam and boughted&mdash;oh! yots of fings."</p>
+
+<p>"Show me what you've bought, Toady Lion! I want to see! How much money
+had you, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion sat plump down in the thickest dust of the road, as he
+always did just wherever he happened to be at the time. If there
+chanced to be a pool there or a flower-bed&mdash;why, so much the worse.
+But whenever Toady Lion wanted to sit down, he sat down. Here,
+however, there was only the dry dust of the road and a brown smatter
+of last year's leaves. The gallant knight was in a meditative mood and
+inclined to moralise.</p>
+
+<p>"Money," said Toady Lion thoughtfully, "well, dere's the money that
+you get gived you, and wot Janet sez you muss put in your money-box.
+That's no good! Money-box locked! Janet keeps money-box. 'Get money
+when you are big,' she sez&mdash;rubbage, I fink&mdash;shan't want it then&mdash;lots
+and lots in trowsies' pocket then, gold sixpences and fings."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion's eyes were dreamy and glorious, as if the angels were
+whispering to him, and he saw unspeakable things,</p>
+
+<p>"Then there's miss'nary money in a round box<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> wif a slit on the top.
+That's lots better! Sits on mantlepiece in dining-room. Can get it out
+wif slimmy-jimmy knife when nobody's looking. Hugh John showed me how.
+Prissy says boys who grab miss'nary's pennies won't not go to heaven,
+but Hugh John, he says&mdash;yes. 'Cause why miss'nary's money is for bad
+wicked people to make them good. Then if it is wicked to take
+miss'nary money, the money muss be meaned for us&mdash;to do good to me and
+Hugh John. Hugh John finks so. Me too!"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion spoke in short sentences with pauses between, Cissy
+meantime nodding appreciation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know," she said meditatively, "a thinbladed kitchen knife is
+best."</p>
+
+<p>But Sir Toady Lion had started out on the track of Right and Wrong,
+and was intent on running them down with his usual slow persistence.</p>
+
+<p>"And then the miss'nary money is weally-weally our money, 'cause Janet
+<i>makes</i> us put it in. Onst Hugh John tried metal buttons off of his
+old serge trowsies. But Janet she found out. And he got smacked. An'
+nen, us only takes a penny out when us is <i>tony-bloke</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is which? Oh, stone-broke," laughed Cissy Carter, sitting down beside
+Toady Lion; "who taught you to say that word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John," said the small boy wistfully; "him and me tony-bloke
+all-ee-time, all-ee-ways, all-ee-while!"</p>
+
+<p>"Does Prissy have any of&mdash;the missionary money?" said Cissy; "I
+should!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No," said Toady Lion sadly; "don't you know? Our Prissy's awful good,
+juss howwid! She likes goin' to church, an' washing, an' having to
+wear gloves. Girls is awful funny."</p>
+
+<p>"They are," said Cissy Carter promptly. The funniness of her sex had
+often troubled her. "But tell me, Toady Lion," she went on, "does Hugh
+John like going to church, and being washed, and things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? Hugh John&mdash;him?" said Toady Lion, with slow contempt. "'Course
+he don't. Why, he's a boy. And once he told Mr. Burnham so&mdash;he did."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burnham was the clergyman of both families. He had recently come
+to the place, was a well-set up bachelor, and represented a communion
+which was not by any means the dominant one in Bordershire.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeedy. It was under the elm. Us was having tea. An' Mist'r
+Burnham, he was having tea. And father and Prissy. And, oh! such a lot
+of peoples. And he sez, Mist'r Burnham sez to Hugh John, 'You are good
+little boy. I saw you in church on Sunday. Do you like to go to
+church?' He spoke like this-a-way, juss like I'm tellin' oo, down here
+under his silk waistcoat&mdash;kind of growly, but nice."</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John say that he liked to go to church&mdash;'cos father was there
+listenin', you see. Then Mist'r Burnham ask Hugh John <span class="smcap">why</span> he like to
+go to church, and of course, he say wight out that it was to look at
+Sergeant Steel's wed coat. An' nen everybody laugh&mdash;I don't know why.
+But Mist'r Burnham he laughed most."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Cissy also failed to understand why everybody should have laughed.
+Toady Lion took up the burden of his tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeedy, and one Sunday <i>I</i> didn't have to go to church&mdash;'cos
+I'd yet up such a yot of gween gooseb&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Toady Lion, I know!" interrupted Cissy quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of gween gooseberries," persisted Toady Lion calmly; "so I had got my
+tummy on in front. It hurted like&mdash;well, like when you get sand down
+'oo trowsies. Did 'oo ever get sand in 'oo trowsies, Cissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush&mdash;of course not!" said Cissy Carter; "girls don't have
+trowsers&mdash;they have&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But any injudicious revelations on Cissy's part were stopped by Toady
+Lion, who said, "No, should juss fink not. Girls is too great softs to
+have trowsies.</p>
+
+<p>"Onst though on the sands at a seaside, when I was '<i>kye-kying</i>' out
+loud an' kickin' fings, 'cos I was not naughty but only fractious,
+dere was a lady wat said 'Be dood, little boy, why can't you be dood?'</p>
+
+<p>"An' nen I says, 'How can I be dood? Could 'oo be dood wif all that
+sand in 'oo trowsies?'</p>
+
+<p>"An' nen&mdash;the lady she wented away quick, so quick&mdash;I can't tell why.
+P'raps <i>she</i> had sand in her trowsies! Does 'oo fink so, Cissy?"</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do&mdash;I quite understand," said Cissy Carter, somewhat hastily,
+in dread of Toady Lion's well-known license of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"An' nen 'nother day after we comed home I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> went into the park and
+clum up a nice tree. An' it was ever so gween and scratchy. 'An it was
+nice. Nen father he came walking his horse slow up the road, n' I hid.
+But father he seen me. And he say, 'What you doing there, little boy?
+You break you neck. Nen I whip you. Come down, you waskal!' He said it
+big&mdash;down here, (Toady Lion illustrated with his hand the place from
+which he supposed his father's voice to proceed). An' it made me feel
+all queer an' trimbly, like our guinea pig's nose when father speak
+like that. An' I says to him, 'Course, father, you never clumb up no
+trees on Sundays when <i>you</i> was little boy!' An' nen he didn't speak
+no more down here that trimbly way, but laughed, and pulled me down,
+and roded me home in front of him, and gived me big hunk of pie&mdash;yes,
+indeedy!"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion felt that now he had talked quite enough, and began to
+arrange his brass cannons on the dust, in a plan of attack which
+beleaguered Cissy Carter's foot and turned her flank to the left.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get all those nice new cannons? You haven't told me
+yet," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Boughted them!" answered Toady Lion promptly, "least I boughted some,
+and Hugh John boughted some, an' Prissy she boughted some."</p>
+
+<p>"And how do you come to have them all?" asked Cissy, watching the
+imposing array. As usual it was the Battle of Bannockburn and the
+English were getting it hot.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Toady Lion thoughtfully, "'twas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> this way. 'Oo sees
+Prissy had half-a-crown, an' she boughted a silly book all about a
+'Lamplighter' for herself&mdash;an' two brass cannons&mdash;one for Hugh John
+an' one for me. And Hugh John he had half-a-crown, an' he boughted
+three brass cannon, two for himself and one for me."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you buy with your half-crown?" said Cissy, bending her
+brows sweetly upon the small gunner.</p>
+
+<p>"Wif my half-a-crown? Oh, I just boughted three brass cannons&mdash;<i>dey
+was all for mine-self</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Toady Lion," cried Cissy indignantly, "you are a selfish little pig!
+I shan't stop with you any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Little pigs is nice," said Toady Lion, unmoved, arranging his cannon
+all over again on a new plan after the removal of Cissy's foot; "their
+noses&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't speak to me about their noses, you selfish little boy! Blow
+your own nose."</p>
+
+<p>"No use," said Toady Lion philosophically; "won't stay blowed. 'Tis
+too duicy!"</p>
+
+<p>Cissy set off in disgust towards the house of Windy Standard, leaving
+Toady Lion calmly playing with his six cannon all alone in the white
+dust of the king's highway.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap24i2.jpg" width="150" height="121" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap25.jpg" width="400" height="275" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">LOVE'S (VERY) YOUNG DREAM.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap25d.jpg" width="103" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">C</span>ISSY</b> found our hero in a sad state of depression. Prissy had gone off
+to evening service, and had promised to introduce a special petition
+that he might beat the Smoutchy boys; but Gen'l Smith shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"With Prissy you can't never tell. Like as not she may go and pray
+that Nipper Donnan may get converted, or die and go to heaven, or
+something like that. She'd do it like winking, without a thought for
+how I should feel! That's the sort of girl our Priss is!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, surely not so bad as that," said Cissy, very properly
+scandalised.</p>
+
+<p>"She would, indeed," said Hugh John, nodding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> his head vehemently;
+"she's good no end, our Prissy is. And never shirks prayers, nor
+forgets altogether, nor even says them in bed. I believe she'd get up
+on a frosty night and say them without a fire&mdash;she would, I'm telling
+you. And she doats on these nasty Smoutchies. She'd just love to have
+been tortured. She'd have regularly spread herself on forgiving them
+too, our Priss would."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't have forgived them," cried the piping voice of Toady Lion,
+suddenly appearing through the shrubbery (his own more excellent form
+was "scrubbery"), with his arms full of the new brass cannons; "I
+wouldn't have forgived them a bit. I'd have cutted off all their
+heads."</p>
+
+<p>"Go 'way, little pig!" cried Cissy indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Toady Lion isn't a little pig," said Hugh John, with dignity; "he is
+my brother."</p>
+
+<p>"But he kept all the cannons to himself," remonstrated Cissy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Course he did; why shouldn't he? He's only a little boy, and can't
+grow good all at once," said Hugh John, with more Christian charity
+than might have been expected of him.</p>
+
+<p>"You've been growing good yourself," said Cissy, thrusting out her
+upper lip with an expression of bitter reproach and disappointment;
+"I'd better go home."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll hit you if you say that, Cissy," cried Hugh John, "but anyway
+you shan't call Toady Lion a little pig."</p>
+
+<p>"I like being little pig," said Toady Lion impassively; "little piggie
+goes '<i>Grunt-grunt!</i>'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And he illustrated the peculiarities of piglings by pulling the air up
+through his nostrils in various keys. "Little pigs is nice," he
+repeated at the end of this performance.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy was very angry. Things appeared to be particularly horrid that
+afternoon. She had started out to help everybody, and had only managed
+to quarrel with them. Even her own familiar Hugh John had lifted up
+his heel against her. It was the last straw. But she was resolved to
+not give in now.</p>
+
+<p>"Good little boy"&mdash;she said tauntingly&mdash;"it is such a mother's pet! It
+will be good then, and go and ask Nipper's pardon, and send back
+Donald to make nice mutton pies; it shall then&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John made a rush at this point. There was a wild scurry of
+flight, and the gravel flew every way. Cissy was captured behind the
+stable, and Hugh John was about to administer punishment. His hand was
+doubled. It was drawn back.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," cried Cissy, "hit a girl! Any boy can beat you. But you can hit
+a girl! Hit hard, brave soldier!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John's hand dropped as if struck by lightning.</p>
+
+<p>"I never did!" he said; "I fought ten of them at once and never even
+cried when they&mdash;when they&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And the erstwhile dauntless warrior showed unmistakable signs of being
+perilously near a descent into the vale of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"When they what?" queried Cissy softly, suddenly beginning to be
+sorry.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when they tortured me," said Hugh John.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap25i1.jpg" width="400" height="290" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;HIT HARD, BRAVE SOLDIER.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Cissy went up suddenly and kissed him. It was only a peck which
+reached land at the top corner of his ear; but it made Hugh John
+crimson hotly, and fend Cissy off with his elbow as if she had been a
+big boy about to strike.</p>
+
+<p>"There, now," she said, "I've done it. I promised I would, and what's
+more, I'll say it out loud&mdash;'I love you!' There! And if you don't mind
+and behave, I'll tell people. I will, now then. But all the same, I'm
+sorry I was a beast to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't do it again," said Hugh John, somewhat mollified,
+slightly dropping the point of his defensive elbow. "Anybody might
+have seen you, and then what would they think?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Cissy soothingly, "I won't any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Say 'Hope-you-may-die!'"</p>
+
+<p>Cissy promptly hoped she might come to an early grave in the event of
+again betraying, even in private, the exuberance of her young
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Hugh John," said Cissy, when peace had been restored in this
+manner, and they were wandering amicably across the back meadow where
+they could not be seen from the house windows, taking alternate sucks
+at a stick of brown toffee with crumbs stuck firmly on it, the
+property of Cissy, "I've something to tell you. I've found the allies
+for you; and we can whop the Smoutchies and take the castle now&mdash;any
+time."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of General Napoleon Smith glistened.</p>
+
+<p>"If that's true," he said, "you can kiss me again&mdash;no, not now," he
+added hastily, moving off a little, "but after, when it's all over,
+you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> know. There's a good place behind the barn. You can do it there
+if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Will <i>you</i> say 'I love you, Cissy'?"</p>
+
+<p>But this was more than Hugh John had bargained for. He asked time for
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be till the Smoutchy boys are beaten and the castle ours for
+good," pleaded Cissy.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John felt that it was a great price to pay, but after all he did
+want dreadfully to beat the Smoutchy boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll try," he said, "but you must say, 'Hope-you'll-die and
+double-die,' if you ever tell!"</p>
+
+<p>Again Cissy took the required oath.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said he expectantly, his mind altogether on the campaign.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy told him all about the gipsy encampment and the history of the
+meeting with Billy Blythe. Hugh John nodded. Of course he knew all
+about that, but would they join? Were they not rather on the side of
+the Smoutchies? They looked as if they would be.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you can't never tell a bit beforehand," said Cissy eagerly. "They
+just hate the town boys; and Bill Blythe says that Nipper Donnan's
+father said, that when the town got the castle they would soon clear
+the gipsies off your common&mdash;for that goes with the castle."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John nodded again more thoughtfully. There was certainly
+something in that. He had heard his father say as much to his lawyer
+when he himself was curled up on the sofa, pretending to read
+Froissart's "Chronicles," but really listening as hard as ever he
+could.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are a brick," he cried, "you are indeed, Cissy. Come on, let's go
+at once and see Billy Blythe."</p>
+
+<p>And he took her hand. She held back a moment. They were safe behind
+the great ivy bush at the back of the stables.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you say it now?" she whispered, with a soft light in her
+eyes; "I wish you could. Try."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John's face darkened. He unshipped his elbow from his side to be
+ready for action.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I won't ask you till after," she said regretfully. "'Tain't
+fair, I know; but&mdash;" she looked at him again yet more wistfully, still
+holding him by the hand which had last passed over the mutual
+joint-stock candy-stick; "don't you think you could do the other&mdash;just
+once?"</p>
+
+<p>"What other?" grumbled Hugh John, sulking. He felt that Cissy was
+taking an unfair advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>you</i> know," said Cissy, "what I did to you a little while ago."</p>
+
+<p>"'Twasn't to be till after," urged our hero, half relenting. Like a
+woman, Cissy was quick to see her advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a little one to be going on with?" she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John sighed. Girls were incomprehensible. Prissy liked church and
+being washed. Cissy, of whom he had more hopes, liked kissing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "goodness knows why you like it. I'm sure I don't and
+never shall. But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He ran to the corner and looked round into the stable-yard. All was
+quiet along the Potomac. He walked more sternly to the other corner,
+and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> glanced into the orchard. Peace reigned among the apple-trees. He
+came slowly and dejectedly back. In the inmost corner of the angle of
+the stable, and behind the thickest of the ivy bush, he straightened
+himself up and compressed his lips, as he had done when the Smoutchies
+were tying him up by the thumbs. He felt however that to beat Nipper
+Donnan he was ready to undergo anything&mdash;even this. No sacrifice was
+too great.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said. "Come on, Cissy, and get it over&mdash;only don't be
+too long."</p>
+
+<p>Cissy was thirteen, and tall for her age, but though fully a year
+younger, Hugh John was tall also, so that when she came joyously
+forward and put her hands on his shoulders, their eyes were exactly on
+a level.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't go shutting your eyes and holding your breath, as if it
+were medicine. 'Tisn't so very horrid," said Cissy, with her hands
+still on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on!" said Hugh John in a muffled voice, nerving himself for the
+coming crisis.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy's lips just touched his, rested a moment, and were gone.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John let out his breath with a sigh of relief like an explosion;
+then he stepped back, and promptly wiped off love's gage with the
+sleeve of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on," cried Cissy; "that isn't fair. You know it ain't!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John knew it and submitted.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy swept the tumbled hair from about her eyes. She had a very red
+spot on either cheek;
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+but she had made up her mind, and was going
+through with it properly now.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap25i2.jpg" width="400" height="602" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;WASN&#39;T IT SPLENDID?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't mind," she said; "I can easily do it over again&mdash;for
+keeps this time, mind!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she kissed him once, twice, and three times. It was nicer than
+kissing Janet Sheepshanks, he thought; and as for Prissy&mdash;well, that
+was different too.</p>
+
+<p>A little hammer thumped in his heart, and made it go "jumpetty-jump,"
+as if it were lame, or out of breath, or had one leg shorter than the
+other. After all Ciss was the nicest girl there was, if she did behave
+stupidly and tiresomely about this. "Just once?" He would do it after
+all. It wasn't much to do&mdash;to give Cissy such a treat.</p>
+
+<p>So he put his arms about her neck underneath her curls, pulled her
+close up to him, and kissed her. It felt funny, but rather nice. He
+did not remember doing that to any one since he was a little boy, and
+his mother used to come and say "Good-night" to him. Then he opened
+his arms and pushed Cissy away. They walked out through the orchard
+yards apart, as if they had just been introduced. Cissy's eyes were
+full of the happiness of love's achievement. As for Hugh John, he was
+crimson to the neck and felt infinitely degraded in his own
+estimation.</p>
+
+<p>They came to the orchard wall, where there was a stile which led in
+the direction of Oaklands. Cissy ran up the rude steps, but paused on
+the top instead of going over. Hugh John was looking the other way.
+Somehow, do what he would, his eyes could not be brought to meet
+hers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Are you not coming?" she said coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, gruffly enough; "to-morrow will do for Billy."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," she said softly. Her voice was almost a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John grunted inarticulately.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here!" she said, bending down till her eyes were on a level with
+his chin. He could not help glancing up once. There was a mischievous
+smile in them. It had never struck him before that Cissy was very
+pretty. But somehow now he was glad that she was. Prissy was
+nice-looking too&mdash;but, oh! quiet different. He continued to look at
+Cissy Carter standing with the stile between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it splendid!" she said, still keeping her shining eyes on his.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, middling," said Hugh John, and turning on his heel he went into
+the stable without even saying "Good-bye." Cissy watched him with a
+happy smile on her face. Love was her fetish&mdash;her Sambo Soulis&mdash;and
+she had worshipped long in secret. Till now she had let the worm
+concealment prey upon her cheek. True, it had not as yet affected her
+appetite nor kept her a moment awake.</p>
+
+<p>But now all was different. Her heart sang, and the strangest thing was
+that all the landscape, the fields and woods, and everything seemed to
+be somehow painted in brighter colours. In fact, they looked just as
+they do when you bend down and look at them through between your legs.
+You know the way.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap26.jpg" width="400" height="217" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">AN IMPERIAL BIRTHDAY.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap26d.jpg" width="94" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>HE</b> next day was General Napoleon Smith's birthday. Outwardly it
+looked much like other days. There were not, as there ought to have
+been, great, golden imperial capital N's all over the sky. Nature
+indeed was more than usually calm; but, to strike a balance, there was
+excitement enough and to spare in and about the house of Windy
+Standard. Very early, when it was not yet properly light, but only
+sort of misty white along the wet grass and streaky combed-out grey up
+above in the sky, Prissy waked Sir Toady Lion, who promptly rolled
+over to the back of his cot, and stuck his funny head right down
+between the wall and the edge of the wire mattress, so that only his
+legs and square sturdy back could be seen.</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion always preferred to sleep in the most curious positions. In
+winter he usually<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> turned right round in bed till his head was far
+under the bed-clothes, and his fat, twinkly, pink toes reposed
+peacefully on the pillow. Nothing ever mattered to Toady Lion. He
+could breathe through his feet just as well as through his mouth, and
+(as we have seen) much better than through his nose. The attention of
+professors of physiology is called to this fact, which can be
+established upon the amplest evidence and the most unimpeachable
+testimony. In summer he generally rolled out of bed during the first
+half hour, and slept comfortably all the rest of the night on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up, Toady Lion," said his sister softly, so as not to waken Hugh
+John; "it is the birthday."</p>
+
+<p>"Ow don' care!" grumbled Toady Lion, turning over and over three or
+four times very fast till he had all the bed-clothes wrapped about him
+like a cocoon; "don' care wat it is. I'se goin' to sleep some more.
+Don't go 'prog' me like that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said Prissy gently, to tempt him; "we are going to give Hugh
+John a surprise, and sing a lovely hymn at his door. You can have my
+ivory Prayer-book&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For keeps?" asked Toady Lion, opening his eyes with his first gleam
+of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, you know that was mother's, and father gave it to me to take
+care of. But you shall have it to hold in your hand while we are
+singing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, can I have the picture of the anzel Michael castin' out
+the baddy-baddy anzels and hittin' the Bad Black Man O-such-a-whack on
+the head?"</p>
+
+<p>Prissy considered. The print was particularly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> dear to her heart, and
+she had spent a happy wet Saturday colouring it. But she did want to
+make the birthday hymn a success, and Toady Lion had undeniably a fine
+voice when he liked to use it&mdash;which was not often.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," she said, "you can have my 'Michael and the Bad Angels,'
+but you are not to spoil it."</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't play then," grumbled Toady Lion, who knew well the strength of
+his position, and was as troublesome as a <i>prima donna</i> when she knows
+her manager cannot do without her&mdash;"shan't sing, not unless 'Michael
+and the Bad Angels' is mine to spoil if I like."</p>
+
+<p>"But you won't&mdash;will you, dear Toady Lion?" pleaded Prissy. "You'll
+keep it so nice and careful, and then next Saturday, when I have my
+week's money and you are poor, I'll buy it off you again."</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't promise," said the Obstinate Brat&mdash;as Janet, happily inspired,
+had once called him after being worsted in an argument, "p'rhaps yes,
+and p'rhaps no."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on then, Toady Lion," whispered Prissy, giving him a hand and
+deciding to trust to luck for the preservation of her precious print.
+Toady Lion was often much better than his word, and she knew from
+experience that by Saturday his financial embarrassments would
+certainly be such that no reasonable offer was likely to be refused.</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion rose, and taking his sister's hand they went into her room,
+carefully shutting the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> door after them. Here Prissy proceeded to
+equip Toady Lion in one of her own "nighties," very much against that
+chorister's will.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, pink flannel pyjams are not proper to sing in church in,"
+she whispered: "now&mdash;you must hold your hymn-book so, and look up at
+the roof when you sing&mdash;like the 'Child Samuel' on the nursery wall."</p>
+
+<p>"Mine eyes don't goggle like his," said Toady Lion, who felt that
+Nature had not designed him for the part, and who was sleepy and cross
+anyway. Birthdays were no good&mdash;except his own.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that Janet Sheepshanks was going downstairs early to set
+the maids to their morning work, and this is what she saw. At the
+closed door of Hugh John's chamber stood two quaint little figures,
+clad in lawny white, one tall and slim, the other short and chubby as
+a painted cherub on a ceiling. They had each white hymn-books
+reverently placed between their hands. Their eyes were raised
+heavenwards and their lips were red and parted with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The stern Scotswoman felt something suddenly strike her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, sir," she said, telling the tale afterwards, "the lassie
+Priscilla was sae like her mither, my puir bairn that is noo singing
+psalms wi' the angels o' God, that I declare, my verra heart stood
+still, for I thocht that she had come back for yin o' the bairns. And,
+oh! I couldna pairt wi' ony o' them noo. It wad fairly break my heart.
+And there the twa young things stood at the door, but when they began
+to sing, I declare I juist slippit awa'<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> doon to the closet and grat
+on the tap o' a cask o' paraffeen!"</p>
+
+<p>And this is what Janet Sheepshanks heard them sing. It was not perhaps
+very appropriate, but it was one of the only two hymns of which Toady
+Lion knew the words; and I think even Mr. Charles Wesley, who wrote
+it, would not have objected if he had seen the angelic devotion on
+Prissy's face or the fraudulent cherub innocence shining from that of
+Sir Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, mind, your eyes on the crack of the door above," whispered
+Prissy; "and when I count three under my breath&mdash;sing out for your
+very life."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"One&mdash;two&mdash;three!" counted Prissy.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Hark! the herald angels sing,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Glory to the new-born King,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Peace on earth and mercy mild,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>God and sinners reconciled.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"What is 'weconciled'?" asked Toady Lion, who must always ask
+something on principle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind now," whispered Prissy hastily; "keep your eyes on the
+top crack of the door and open your mouth wide."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know no more!" said Toady Lion obstinately.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you do," said Prissy, almost in tears; "go on. Sing <i>La-La</i>,
+if you don't, and we'll soon be at the chorus, and you know that
+anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the voice of Prissy escaped, soaring aloft in the early gloom,
+and if any human music can, reaching the Seventh Sphere itself, where,
+amid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> the harmonies of the universe, the Eternal Ear hearkens for the
+note of sinful human praise.</p>
+
+<p>The sweet shrill pipe of Toady Lion accompanied her like a heavenly
+lute of infinite sweetness. It was at this point that Janet made off
+in the direction of the paraffin barrel.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Joyful all ye nations rise,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Join the triumph of the skies:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Universal nature, say,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>'Christ the Lord is risen to-day!'</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The door opened, and the head of Hugh John appeared, his hair all on
+end and his pyjama jacket open at the neck. He was hitching up the
+other division of the suit with one hand.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tain't Christmas, what's the horrid row? Shut it!" growled he
+sleepily. Prissy made him the impatient sign of silence so well
+understood of children, and which means that the proceedings are not
+to be interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"Your birthday, silly!" she said; "chorus now!" And Hugh John himself,
+who knew the value of discipline, lined up and opened his mouth in the
+loud rejoicing refrain:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>Hark! the herald angels sing,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Glory to the newborn King!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A slight noise behind made them turn round, and there the children
+beheld with indignation the whole body of the servants grouped
+together on the landing, most of them with their handkerchiefs to
+their eyes; while Jane Housemaid who had none, was sobbing
+undisguisedly with the tears rolling down her cheeks, and vainly
+endeavouring to express her opinion that "it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> just beautiful&mdash;they
+was for all the world like little angels a-praisin' God, and&mdash;<i>a-hoo!</i>
+I can't help it, no more I can't! And their mother never to see them
+growed up&mdash;her bein' in her grave, the blessed lamb!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> don't see nuffin to kye for," said Toady Lion unsympathetically,
+trying to find pockets in Prissy's night-gown; "it was a nice
+sing-song!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Janet Sheepshanks came on the scene. She had been
+crying more than anybody, but you would never have guessed it. And
+now, perhaps ashamed of her own emotion, she pretended great scandal
+and indignation at the unseemly and irregular spectacle, and drove the
+servants below to their morning tasks, being specially severe with
+Jane Housemaid, who, for some occult reason, found it as difficult to
+stop crying as it had been easy to begin&mdash;so that, as Hugh John said,
+"it was as good as a watering-can, and useful too, for it laid the
+dust on Jane's carpets ready for sweeping, ever so much better than
+tea-leaves."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap26i.jpg" width="200" height="389" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap27.jpg" width="400" height="253" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE BANTAM CHICKENS.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap27d.jpg" width="133" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">W</span>HEN</b> Hugh John met Cissy Carter the first time after the incident of
+the stile, it was in the presence of the young lady's father and
+mother. Cissy smiled and shook hands with the most serene and chilling
+dignity; but Hugh John blushed, and wore on his countenance an
+expression of such deep and ingrained guilt and confusion, that, upon
+catching sight of him, Mr. Davenant Carter called out, in his jolly
+stand-before-the-fire-with-his-hands-in-his-pockets' manner, "Hillo,
+boy! what have you been up to&mdash;stealing apples, eh? Come! What is it?
+Out with it!"</p>
+
+<p>Which, when you think of it, was not exactly fitted to make our hero
+any more self-possessed. Mr. Davenant Carter always considered
+children as a rather superior kind of puppy dogs, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> were
+specially created to be condescended to and teased, in order to see
+what they would say and do. They might also be taught tricks&mdash;like
+monkeys and parrots, only not so clever.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Davenant," said his wife, "do let the boy alone. Don't you see he
+is bashful before so many people?"</p>
+
+<p>Now this was the last thing which ordinarily could be laid with
+justice to the charge of our hero; yet now he only mumbled and avoided
+everybody's eye, particularly Cissy's. But apparently that young lady
+had forgotten all about the ivy bush at the back of the stable, for
+she said quite loud out, so that all the room could hear her, "What a
+long time it is since we saw you at Oaklands, Hugh John&mdash;isn't it?"
+This sally added still more to Hugh John's confusion, and he could
+only fall back upon his favourite axiom (which he was to prove the
+truth of every day of his life as he grew older), that "girls are
+funny things."</p>
+
+<p>Presently Cissy said, "Have you seen Sammy, mother; I wonder if he has
+fallen into the mill-dam. He went over there more than an hour ago to
+sail his new boat." Mild Mrs. Carter started up so violently that she
+upset all her sewing cotton and spools on the floor, to the delight of
+her wicked little pug, which instantly began pulling them about,
+shaking them, growling at them, and pretending they were rats that had
+been given him to worry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do you think so?&mdash;Run Cissy, run Hugh, and find him!" Whereat
+Cissy and Hugh John removed themselves. As soon as they were outside
+our hero found his tongue.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How could you tell such a whopper? Of course he would not fall into
+the water like a baby!"</p>
+
+<p>"Goos-ee gander," said Cissy briskly; "of course not! I knew that very
+well. But if I had not said something we should have had to stay there
+moping among all those Grown-Ups, and doing nothing but talking proper
+for hours and hours."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought you liked it, Cissy," said Hugh John, who did not know
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Like it!" echoed Cissy; "I've got to <i>do</i> it. And if they dreamed I
+didn't like it, they'd think I hadn't proper manners, and make me stop
+just twice as long. Mother wants me to acquire a good society
+something-or-other, so that's why I've to stop and make tea, and
+pretend to like to talk to Mr. Burnham."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;him," said Hugh John; "he isn't half bad. And he's a ripping good
+wicket-keep!"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say," retorted Cissy, "that's all very well for you. He talks
+to you about cricket and W. G.'s scores&mdash;I've heard him. But he speaks
+to me in that peeky far-away voice from the back of his throat, like
+he does in the service when he comes to the bit about 'young
+children'&mdash;and what do you think the <i>Creature</i> says?"</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno," said Hugh John, with a world-weary air, as if the
+eccentricities of clergymen in silk waistcoats were among the things
+that no fellow could possibly find out.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he said that he hoped the time would soon come when a young
+lady of so much decision<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> of character (that's me!) would be able to
+assist him in his district visiting."</p>
+
+<p>"What's 'decision of character' when he's at home?" asked Hugh John
+flippantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing&mdash;only one of the things parsons say. It doesn't mean
+anything&mdash;not in particular!" replied the widely informed Cissy. "But
+did you ever hear such rot?"</p>
+
+<p>And for the first time her eyes met his with a quaintly questioning
+look, which somehow carried in it a reminiscence of the stile and the
+ivy bush. Cissy's eyes were never quite (Hugh John has admitted as
+much to me in a moment of confidence)&mdash;never quite the same after the
+incident of the orchard. On this occasion Hugh John instantly averted
+his own, and looked stolidly at the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Mr. Burnham has heard that you went with medicine and stuff
+to the gipsy camp," he said after a pause, trying to find an
+explanation of the apparently indefensible folly of his cricketing
+hero. Cissy had not thought of this before.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps he had," she said, "but that was quite different."</p>
+
+<p>"How different?" queried Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that was only dogs and Billy Blythe," said Cissy, somewhat
+shamefacedly; "that doesn't count, and besides I like it. Doing good
+has got to be something you don't like&mdash;teaching little brats their
+duty to their godfathers and godmothers, or distributing tracts which
+only make people stamp and swear and carry on."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't there something somewhere about helping the fatherless and the
+widow?" faltered Hugh<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> John. He hated "talking good," but somehow he
+felt that Cissy was doing herself less than justice.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't suppose that the fox-terrier's pa does much for him,"
+she said gaily; "but come along and I'll 'interjuce' you to your ally
+Billy Blythe."</p>
+
+<p>So they walked along towards the camp in silence. It was a still,
+Sunday-like evening, and the bell of Edam town steeple was tolling for
+the six o'clock stay of work, as it had done every night at the same
+hour for over five hundred years. The reek of the burgesses'
+supper-fires was going up in a hundred pillar-like "pews" of tall blue
+smoke. Homeward bound humble bees bumbled and blundered along, drunk
+and drowsy with the heady nectar they had taken on board&mdash;strayed
+revellers from the summer-day's Feast of Flowers. Delicate little blue
+butterflies rose flurriedly from the short grass, flirted with each
+other a while, and then mounted into a yet bluer sky in airy wheels
+and irresponsible balancings.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my birthday!" suddenly burst out Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy stopped short and caught her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no&mdash;it can't be;" she said, "I thought it was next week, and they
+aren't nearly ready."</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Cissy Cartar began most incontinently and unexpectedly to cry.
+Hugh John had never seen her do this before, though he was familiar
+enough with Prissy's more easy tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't you, Ciss," he said; "I don't want anything&mdash;presents and
+things, I mean. Just let's be jolly."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hu-uh-uh!" sobbed Cissy; "and Janet Sheepshanks told me it was next
+week. I'm sure she did; and I set them so nicely to be ready in
+time&mdash;more than two months ago, and now they aren't ready after all."</p>
+
+<p>"What aren't ready?" said Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>"The bantam chickens," sobbed Cissy; "and they are lovely as lovely.
+And peck&mdash;you should just see them peck."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd just as soon have them next week, or the next after that&mdash;rather
+indeed. Shut up now, Ciss. Stop crying, I tell you. Do you hear?" He
+was instinctively adopting that gruff masculine sternness which men
+consider to be on the whole the most generally effective method of
+dealing with the incomprehensible tears of their women-kind. "<i>I</i>
+don't care if you cry pints, but I'll hit you if you won't stop! So
+there!"</p>
+
+<p>Cissy stopped like magic, and assumed a distant and haughty expression
+with her nose in the air, the surprising dignity of which was marred
+only by the recurring spasmodic sniff necessary to keep back the
+moisture which was still inclined to leak from the corners of her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I would indeed," said Hugh John, like all good men quickly remorseful
+after severity had achieved its end. "I'd ever so much rather have the
+nicest presents a week after; for on a regular birthday you get so
+many things. But by next week, when you've got tired of them all, and
+don't have anything new&mdash;that's the proper time to get a present."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you <i>are</i> nice," said Cissy impulsively,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> coming over to Hugh
+John and clasping his arm with both her hands. He did not encourage
+this, for he did not know where it might end, and the open moor was
+not by any means the ivy-grown corner of the stable. Cissy went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are the nicest thing. Only don't tell any body&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't!" said Hugh John, with deepest conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll give you the mother too," continued Cissy; "she is a perfect
+darling, and won a prize at the last Edam show. It was only a second,
+but everybody said that she ought by rights to have had the first.
+Yes, and she would have got it too&mdash;only that the other old hen was a
+cousin of the judge's. That wasn't fair, was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not!" said Hugh John, with instant emphasis.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap27i.jpg" width="200" height="385" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap28.jpg" width="400" height="267" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE GIPSY CAMP.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap28d.jpg" width="98" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">A</span>T</b> this point a peculiar fragrance was borne to them upon the light
+wind, the far-blowing smell of a wood-fire, together with the odour of
+boiling and fragrant stew&mdash;a compound and delicious wild-wood scent,
+which almost created the taste by which it was to be enjoyed, as they
+say all good literature must. There was also another smell, less
+idyllic but equally characteristic&mdash;the odour of drying paint. All
+these came from the camp of the gipsies set up on the corner of the
+common lands of Windy Standard.</p>
+
+<p>The gipsies' wood was a barren acre of tall, ill-nurtured Scotch firs,
+with nothing to break their sturdy monotony of trunk right up to the
+spreading crown of twisted red branches and dark green spines.
+Beneath, the earth was covered with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> carpet of dry and brown
+pine-needles, several inches thick, soft and silent under the feet as
+velvet pile. Ditches wet and dry closed in the place of sanctuary for
+the wandering tribes of Egypt on all sides, save only towards the high
+road, where a joggly, much-rutted cart track led deviously in between
+high banks, through which the protruding roots of the Scotch firs,
+knotted and scarred, were seen twisting and grappling each other like
+a nest of snakes. Suddenly, between the ridges of pine-trees, the pair
+came in sight of the camp.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare," cried Hugh John, "they are painting the waggons. I wish
+they would let me help. I can slick it on like a daisy. Now I'm
+telling you. Andrew Penman at the coach-works in Church Street showed
+me how. He says I can 'line' as well as any workman in the place. I'm
+going to be a coach-painter. They get bully wages, I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were going to be a soldier," commented Cissy, with the
+cool and inviting criticism of the model domestic lady, who is always
+on hand with a bucket of cold water for the enthusiasms of her
+men-folk.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John remembered, saw his mistake, and shifted his ground all in
+the twinkling of an eye; for of course a man of spirit ought never to
+own himself in the wrong&mdash;at least to a girl. It is a bad precedent,
+occasionally even fatal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, of course I am going to be a soldier," he said with the
+hesitation of one who stops to think what he is going to say; "but I'm
+to be a coach-painter in my odd time and on holidays.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> Besides,
+officers get so little pay now-a-days, it's shameful&mdash;I heard my
+father say. So one must do something."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, here's the terrier&mdash;pretty thing, I declare he quite knows
+me&mdash;see, Hugh John," cried Cissy, kneeling with delight in her eye,
+and taking hold of the little dog, which came bounding forward to meet
+her&mdash;stopping midway, however, to paw at its neck, to which the
+Chianti wicker-work still clung tightly round the edge of the bandage.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Blythe came towards them, touching his cap as he did so in a
+half-military manner; for had he not a brother in the county militia,
+who was the best fighter (with his fists) in the regiment, the pest of
+his colonel, but in private the particular pet of all the other
+officers, who were always ready to put their money on Gipsy Blythe to
+any amount.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, miss," he said; "I done it. He's better a'ready, and as lively
+as a green grass-chirper. Never seed the like o' that ointment. 'Tis
+worth its weight in gold when ye have dogs."</p>
+
+<p>A tall girl came up at this moment, dusky and lithe, her face and neck
+tanned to a fine healthy brown almost as dark as saddle-leather, but
+with a rolling black eye so full and piercing that even her complexion
+seemed light by comparison. She carried a back load of tinware of all
+sorts, and by her wearied air appeared to be returning to the
+encampment after a day's tramp.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, young lady and gentleman, sure I can see by your eyes that you
+are going to buy something from a poor girl&mdash;ribbons for the hair, or
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+for the house some nice collanders, saucepans, fish-pans, stew-pans,
+patty-pans, jelly-pans&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap28i1.jpg" width="400" height="602" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SHE CARRIED A BACK LOAD OF TINWARE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Go 'way, Lepronia Lovell," growled Billy; "don't you see that this is
+the young lady that cured my dog?"</p>
+
+<p>"And who may the young gentleman be?" said the girl. "Certain I am
+I've seen him before somewhere at the back o' beyant."</p>
+
+<p>"Belike aye, Lepronia, tha art a clever wench, and hast got eyes in
+the back o' thee yead," said Billy, in a tone of irony. "Do you not
+know the son of Master Smith o' t' Windy Standard&mdash;him as lets us bide
+on his land, when all the neighbours were on for nothing else but
+turning us off with never a rest for the soles of our feet?"</p>
+
+<p>"And what is his name?" said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the same as his father of course, lass&mdash;what else?" cried Billy;
+"young Master Smith as ever was. Did you think it was Blythe?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Faith then, God forbid!" said Lepronia, "ye have lashin's of that
+name in them parts already. Sure it is lonesome for a poor orphan like
+me among so many Blythes; and good-looking young chaps some o' them
+too, and never a wan o' ye man enough to ask me to change my name, and
+go to church and be thransmogrified into a Blythe like the rest of
+yez!"</p>
+
+<p>Some of the gipsies standing round laughed at the boldness of the
+girl, and Billy reddened. "I'm not by way of takin' up with no Paddy,"
+he said, and turned on his heel.</p>
+
+<p>"Paddy is ut," cried the girl indignantly after him, "'faith now, and
+it wad be tellin' ye if ye<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> could get a daycent single woman only half
+as good lookin' as me, to take as much notice av the likes o' ye as to
+kick ye out of her road!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned away, calling over her shoulder to Cissy, "Can I tell your
+fortune, pretty lady?"</p>
+
+<p>Quick as a flash, Cissy's answer came back.</p>
+
+<p>"No, but I can tell yours!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl stopped, surprised that a maid of the Gentiles should tell
+fortunes without glass balls, cards, or even looking at the lines of
+the hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it then," she said defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will live to marry Billy!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Then Lepronia Lovell laughed a short laugh, and said, "Never while
+there's a daycent scarecrow in the world will I set up a tent-stick
+along with the likes of Billy Blythe!"</p>
+
+<p>But all the same she walked away very thoughtful, her basketful of
+tinware clattering at her back.</p>
+
+<p>After the fox-terrier had been examined, commented upon, and duly
+dressed, Billy Blythe walked with them part of the way homeward, and
+Hugh John opened out to him his troubles. He told him of the feud
+against the town boys, and related all the manifold misdeeds of the
+Smoutchies. All the while Billy said nothing, but the twitching of his
+hands and a peculiarly covert look about his dusky face told that he
+was listening intently. Scarcely had Hugh John come to the end of his
+tale when, with the blood mounting darkly to his cheeks, Billy turned
+about to see if he were observed. There was no one near.</p>
+
+<p>"We are the lads to help ye to turn out Nipper Donnan and all his
+crew," he said. "Him and his would soon make short work of us gipsies
+if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> they had the rights of castle and common. Why, Nipper's father is
+what they call a bailie of their burgh court, and he fined my father
+for leaving his horses out on the roadside, while he went for a doctor
+when my mother was took ill a year past last November."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John had found his ally.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a round dozen and more of us lads," continued Billy, "that
+'ud make small potatoes and mince meat of every one of them, if they
+was all Nipper Donnans&mdash;which they ain't, not by a long sight. I know
+them. A fig for them and their flag! We'll take their castle, and
+we'll take it too in a way they won't forget till their dying day."</p>
+
+<p>The gipsy lad was so earnest that Hugh John, though as much as ever
+bent upon conquering the enemy, began to be a little alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it's part pretending," he said, "for my father could put
+them out if we were to tell on them. But then we won't tell, and we
+want just to drive them out ourselves, and thrash them for stealing
+our pet lamb as well!"</p>
+
+<p>"Right!" said Billy, "don't be afraid; we won't do more than just give
+them a blazing good hiding. Tell 'ee what, they'll be main sore from
+top to toe before we get through with 'em!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap28i2.jpg" width="125" height="279" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap29.jpg" width="400" height="287" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">TOADY LION'S LITTLE WAYS.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap29d.jpg" width="92" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>HUS</b> it was finally arranged. The castle was to be attacked by the
+combined forces of Windy Standard and the gipsy camp the following
+Saturday afternoon, which would give them the enemy in their fullest
+numbers. Notice would be sent, so that they could not say afterwards
+that they had been taken by surprise. General Napoleon Smith was to
+write the letter himself, but to say nothing in it about his new
+allies. That, as Cissy put it, "would be as good as a sixpenny
+surprise-packet to them."</p>
+
+<p>So full was Hugh John of his new plan and the hope, now almost the
+certainty, of success, that when he went home he could not help
+confiding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> in Prissy&mdash;who, like a model housewife, was seated mending
+her doll's stockings, while Janet Sheepshanks attended to those of the
+elder members of the household.</p>
+
+<p>She listened with quick-coming breath and rising colour, till Hugh
+John thought that his own military enthusiasm had kindled hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it prime?&mdash;we'll beat them till they can't speak," said Hugh
+John triumphantly. "They'll never come back to our castle again after
+we finish with them."</p>
+
+<p>But Priscilla was silent, and deep dejection gnawed dully at her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor things," she said thoughtfully; "perhaps they never had fathers
+to teach them, nor godfathers and godmothers to see that they learned
+their Catechism."</p>
+
+<p>"Precious lot mine ever did for me&mdash;only one old silver mug!" snorted
+Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>Just then Toady Lion came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hugh John," he panted, in tremulous haste to tell some fell
+tidings, "I so sorry&mdash;I'se broked one of the cannons, and it's your
+cannon what I'se broked."</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing with my cannon?" inquired his brother severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I was juss playin' wif it so as to save my cannons, and a great bid
+stone fell from the wall and broked it all to bits. I beg'oo pardon,
+Hugh John!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said Hugh John cheerfully; "you can give me one of yours
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion stood a while silent, with a puzzled expression on his
+face.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's not right, Hugh John," he said seriously; "I saided that I was
+sorry, and I begged 'oo pardon. Father says then 'oo must fordiv me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll forgive you right enough," said Hugh John, "after I get the
+cannon. It's all the same to me which cannon I have."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>your</i> cannon is broked&mdash;all to little bits!" said Toady Lion,
+trying to impress the fact on his brother's memory.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, another cannon," said Hugh John&mdash;"I ain't particular."</p>
+
+<p>"But the other cannons is all mine," explained Toady Lion, who has
+strong ideas as to the rights of property.</p>
+
+<p>"No matter&mdash;one of them is mine now!" said his brother, snatching one
+out of his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion began to cry with a whining whimper that carried far, and
+with which in his time he had achieved great things.</p>
+
+<p>It reached the ear of Janet Sheepshanks, busy at her stocking-mending,
+as Toady Lion intended it should.</p>
+
+<p>"I declare," she cried, "can you not give the poor little boy what he
+wants? A great fellow like you pestering and teasing a child like
+that. Think shame of yourself! What is the matter, Arthur George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John tooked my cannon!" whimpered that young Machiavel.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't got your cannon, little sneak!" said Hugh John under his
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't give me back my cannon!" wailed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> Toady Lion still louder,
+hearing Janet beginning to move, and knowing well that if he only kept
+it up she would come out, and, on principle, instantly take his part.
+Janet never inquired. She had a theory that the elder children were
+always teasing and oppressing the younger, and she acted upon
+it&mdash;acted promptly too.</p>
+
+<p>"I wants&mdash;" began Toady Lion in his highest key.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, take the cannon, sneak!" said Hugh John fiercely, "chucking" his
+last remaining piece of artillery at Toady Lion, for Janet was almost
+in the doorway now.</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion burst into a howl.</p>
+
+<p>"Oo-oo-ooooh!" he cried; "Hugh John hitted me on the head wif my
+cannon&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you bad boy, wait till I catch you, Hugh Picton Smith," cried
+Janet Sheepshanks, as the boy retreated precipitately through the open
+French window,&mdash;"you don't get any supper to-night, rascal that you
+are, never letting that poor innocent lamb alone for one minute."</p>
+
+<p>In the safety of the garden walk Hugh John shook his fist at the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, golly," he said aloud; "just wait till Toady Lion grows up a bit.
+By hokey, won't I take this out of him with a wicket? Oh no&mdash;not at
+all!"</p>
+
+<p>Now Toady Lion was not usually a selfish little boy; but this day it
+happened that he was cross and hot, also he had a tooth which was
+bothering him. And most of all he wanted his own way, and had a very
+good idea how to get it too.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That same night, when Hugh John was wandering disconsolately without
+at the hour of supper, wondering whether Janet Sheepshanks meant to
+keep her word, a small stout figure came waddling towards him. It was
+Toady Lion with the cover of a silver-plated fish-server in his hand.
+It was nearly full of a miscellaneous mess, such as children (and all
+hungry persons) love&mdash;half a fried sole was there, three large mealy
+potatoes, green peas, and a whole boiled turnip.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Hugh John," said Toady Lion, "I'se welly solly I broked your
+cannon. I bringed you mine supper. Will 'oo forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, old chap," said the generous hero of battles instantly,
+"that's all right! Let's have a jolly feed!"</p>
+
+<p>So on the garden seat they sat down with the fish-cover propped
+between them, and ate their suppers fraternally and happily out of one
+dish, using the oldest implements invented for the purpose by the
+human race.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap29i.jpg" width="125" height="288" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap30.jpg" width="400" height="333" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">SAINT PRISSY, PEACEMAKER.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap30d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>HIS</b> is the letter which, according to his promise, General Napoleon
+Smith despatched to the accredited leader of the Smoutchy boys&mdash;or, as
+they delighted to call themselves, the Comanche Cowboys.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Windy Standard House, Bordershire.</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="in2"><i>Mistr. Nippr. Donnan, Esqr.,</i></span></p>
+
+<p><i><span class="smcap">Dear Sir,</span>&mdash;This is to warn you that on Saturday the 18th,
+between the hours of ten in the morning and six in the evening,
+we, the rightful owners of the Castle of Windy Standard, will
+take possession of our proppaty. Prevent us at your peril. You
+had better get out, for we're coming, and our motty is 'Smith
+for ever, and No Quarter!'</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="in2"><i>Given under our hand and seal.</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="right1">(<i>Signed</i>)&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i><span class="smcap">Napoleon Smith</span></i>,</p>
+
+<p class="author"><i>General-Feeld-Marshall-Commanding.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>P.S.&mdash;I'll teach you to kick my legs with tacketty butes and
+put me in nasty dunguns. Wait till I catch you, Nipper
+Donnan.</i></p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The reply came back on a piece of wrapping paper from the butcher's
+shop, rendered warlike by undeniable stains of gore. It had, to all
+appearance, been written with a skewer, and contrasted ill with the
+blue official paper purloined out of Mr. Picton Smith's office, on
+which the challenge had been sent. It ran thus:&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><i>Matthew Donnan &amp; Co.,<br />
+<span class="in1">Butchers and Cattle Salesmen,</span><br />
+<span class="in2">21 High Street, Edam, Bordershire.</span></i></p>
+
+<p><i><span class="smcap">Dear Sir.</span>&mdash;Yours of the 13th received, and contents noted.
+Come on, you stuck-up retches. We can fight you any day with
+our one hand tied behind us. Better leave girls and childer at
+home, for we meen fightin' this time&mdash;and no error.&mdash;We'll nock
+you into eternal smash.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Hoping to be favoured with a continuance of your esteemed
+orders,&mdash;I have the honour to remain, Sir, your obedient
+servant to command,</i></p>
+
+<p class="author"><i><span class="smcap">N. Donnan.</span></i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The high contracting parties having thus agreed upon terms of mutual
+animosity, to all appearance there remained only the arbitrament of
+battle.</p>
+
+<p>But other thoughts were working in the tender heart of Prissy Smith.
+She had no sympathy with bloodshed, and had she been in her father's
+place she would at once have given the town all their desires at any
+price, in order that the peace might be kept. Deeply and sincerely she
+bewailed the spirit of quarrelling and bloodshed which was abroad. She
+had her own intentions as to the enemy, Hugh John had his&mdash;which he
+had so succinctly summed up in the "favour of the 13th," acknowledged
+with such businesslike precision by Mr. Nipper Donnan in his reply to
+General Napoleon's blue official cartel.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Without taking any one into her confidence (not even Sammy Carter, who
+might have laughed at her), Priscilla Smith resolved to set out on a
+mission of reconciliation to the Comanche Cowboys. Long and deeply she
+prepared herself by self-imposed penances for the work that was before
+her. She was, she knew, no Joan of Arc to lead an army in battle array
+against a cruel and taunting enemy. She was to be a St. Catherine of
+Siena rather, setting out alone and unfriended on a pilgrimage of
+mercy. She had read all she could lay her hands on about the tanner's
+daughter, and a picture of the great barn-like brick church of San
+Dominico where she had her visions, hung over the wash-stand in
+Prissy's little room, and to her pious eyes made the plain deal table
+seem the next thing to an altar.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy wanted to go and have visions too; and so, three times a day
+she went in pilgrimage to the tool-house where the potatoes were
+stored, as being the next best thing to the unattainable San Dominico.
+This was a roomy place more than half underground, and had a vaulted
+roof which was supported by pillars&mdash;the remains, doubtless, of some
+much more ancient structure.</p>
+
+<p>Here Prissy waited, like the Scholar Gipsy, for the light from heaven
+to fall; but, alas, the light refused to come to time. Well, then, she
+must just go on without it as many another eager soul had done before
+her. There only remained to make the final preparations.</p>
+
+<p>On the morrow therefore she waited carefully after early dinner till
+General Smith and Toady<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> Lion had gone off in the direction of the
+mill-dam. Then she took out the little basket which she had concealed
+in the crypt of San Dominico&mdash;that is to say in the potato house. It
+stood ready packed and covered with a white linen cloth.</p>
+
+<p>It was a basket which had been prepared upon the strictest missionary
+models. She had no printed authorities which went the length of
+telling her what provision for the way, what bribes and presents Saint
+Catherine carried forth to appease withal the enemies of her city and
+country. But there was on record the exact provision of the
+mission-chest of a woman, who in her time went forth to turn to
+gentleness the angry hearts of brigands and robbers&mdash;one Abigail, the
+wife of a certain churl of Maon, a village near to the roots of Mount
+Carmel.</p>
+
+<p>True, Prissy could not quite make up the tale of her presents on the
+same generous and wholesale scale. She had to preach according to her
+stipend, like the Glasgow wife of the legend, who, upon the doctor
+ordering her husband champagne and oysters, informed a friend that
+"poor folk like us couldna juist gie Tammas champeen-an'-ighsters, but
+we did the next best thing&mdash;we gied him whelks-an'-ginger-beer."</p>
+
+<p>So since it might have attracted some attention, even on pastures so
+well stocked as those of Mr. Picton Smith of Windy Standard, if Prissy
+had taken with her "five sheep ready dressed," she had to be content
+with half of a sheep's-head-pie, which she had begged "to give away"
+from Janet Sheepshanks. To this she added a four pound<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> loaf she had
+bought in Edam with her own money (Abigail's two hundred being
+distinctly out of her reach)&mdash;together with the regulation cluster of
+raisins and cake of figs which were both well within her means. In
+addition, since Prissy was a strict teetotaler, she took with her a
+little apparatus for making tea, some sugar and cream from the pantry,
+and her largest and best set of dolls' cups and saucers.</p>
+
+<p>All this occupied a good deal of room and was exceedingly heavy, so
+that Prissy had very often to rest on the way towards the castle. She
+might have failed altogether, but that she saw Mike raking the gravel
+of the path near the edge of the water, and asked him to carry the
+basket for her over the stepping-stones.</p>
+
+<p>Prince Michael, who as he often remarked was "spoiling for another
+taste of Donnybrook," conveyed the basket over Edam Water for his
+young mistress, without the least idea of the strange quest upon which
+the girl was going.</p>
+
+<p>He laid it down and looked at the linen cover.</p>
+
+<p>"Faix," he said, "sure 'tis a long road to sind a young lady wid a
+heavy load like that!"</p>
+
+<p>Now, this was his mode of inviting an explanation, but Prissy was far
+too wise to offer one. She merely thanked him and went on her way
+towards the castle.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go near thim ruins till after Saturday, when we will clean
+every dirty spalpeen out of the place like thunder on the mountains,"
+cried Mike, who, like some other people, loved to round off his
+sentences with sounding expressions without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> troubling himself much as
+to whether they fitted the place or not.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" cried Prissy over her shoulder, with a sweet and
+grateful, but quite uninforming smile.</p>
+
+<p>She continued on her way till Mike was out of sight, without altering
+her course from the straight road to the wooden bridge which led into
+the town of Edam. Then at the edge of the hazel copse she came upon a
+small footpath which meandered through lush grass meadows and patches
+of the greater willow herb to the Castle of Windy Standard. The willow
+herb flourished in glorious red-purple masses on the ancient masonry
+of the outer defences, for it is a plant which loves above all things
+the disintegrating lime of old buildings from which its crown of
+blossom shoots up three or four, or it may be even six feet.</p>
+
+<p>She skirted the moat, green with the leaves of pond-weed floating like
+small veined eggs on the surface. From the sluggish water at the side,
+iris and bog-bean stood nobly up, and white-lilies floated on the
+still surface in lordly pride among the humbler wrack and scum of
+duckweed and water buttercup. The light chrome heads of
+"Go-to-bed-John" flaunted on the dryer bank beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy eyed all these treasures with anxious glances.</p>
+
+<p>"I want just dreadfully to gather you," she said. "I hope all this
+warring and battling will be over before you have done blooming, you
+nice waterside things."</p>
+
+<p>And indeed I agree with her, for there is nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> much nicer in the
+world than wayside and riverside flowers&mdash;except the little children
+who play among them; and nothing sweeter than a bairns' daisy-chain,
+save the fingers which weave it, and the neck about which it hangs.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy had arrived within sight of the castle now. She saw the
+flaunting of the red republican flag which in staggery capitals
+condemned her parent to instant dissolution. She stood a moment with
+the basket on her arm in front of the great ruined gate. A sentry was
+pacing to and fro there. Bob Hetherington was his name, and there were
+other lads and boys lounging and pretending to smoke in the deep
+embrasures and recesses of the walls. Clearly the castle was occupied
+in force by the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy stopped somewhat embarrassed, and set down her basket that she
+might have a good look, and think what she was to do next. As she did
+so she caught the eye of Nosie Cuthbertson, a youth whom Nipper Donnan
+permitted in his corps because his father had a terrier which was
+undoubtedly the best ratter in Edam. But the privilege of association
+with such a distinguished dog was dear at the price, for no meaner nor
+more "ill-set" youth than Nosie Cuthbertson cumbered honest
+Bordershire soil. Nosie was seated trying to smoke dry dock-leaf
+wrapped in newspaper without being sick, when his eye caught the trim
+little figure on the opposite side of the moat.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, boys!" he cried, "here's the Smith lass. Let's go and hit her!"</p>
+
+<p>Now Master Nosie had not been prominent on
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+the great day of the
+battle of the Black Sheds, but he felt instinctively that against a
+solitary girl he had at last some chance to assert himself. So he
+threw away his paper cigar, and ran round the broken causeway to the
+place where Prissy was standing.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap30i1.jpg" width="400" height="648" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;OH, PLEASE DON&#39;T, SIR!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you please, sir," began Prissy sweetly, "I've come to ask you not
+to fight any more. It isn't right, you know, and God will be angry."</p>
+
+<p>Nosie Cuthbertson did not at all attend to the appeal so gently and
+courteously made to him. He only caught Prissy by the hand, and began
+twisting her wrist and squeezing her slender fingers till the joints
+ground against each other, and Prissy bit her lips and was ready to
+cry with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> don't, sir!" she pleaded softly, trying to smile as at a
+famous jest. "I came because I wanted to speak to your captain, and
+I've brought a lot of nice things for you all. I think you will be
+sure to like them."</p>
+
+<p>"Humbug," cried Nosie Cuthbertson, performing another yet more painful
+twist, "the basket's ours anyway. I captured it. Hey, Bob, catch hold
+of this chuck, while I give the girl <i>toko</i>&mdash;I'll teach her to come
+spying here about our castle!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap30i2.jpg" width="150" height="256" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap31.jpg" width="400" height="282" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">PRISSY'S PICNIC.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap31d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">B</span>UT</b> just at this moment an important personage stalked through the
+great broken-down doorway by which kings and princes most magnificent
+had once entered the ancient Castle of the Lorraines. He stood a
+moment or two on the threshold behind Nosie Cuthbertson, silently
+contemplating his courageous doings.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a little stifled cry escaped from Prissy, caused by one of
+Nosie's refinements in torture, which consisted in separating her
+fingers and pulling two in one direction and two in the other. Nosie
+was a youth of parts and promise, who had already proceeded some
+distance on his way to the gallows.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the Important Personage, who was no other than Nipper Donnan
+himself, did not long remain quiescent. He advanced suddenly, seized
+Nosie Cuthbertson by the scruff of the neck, kicked him several times
+severely, tweaked his ear till it looked as if it had been constructed
+of the best india-rubber, and then ended by tumbling him into the
+moat, where he disappeared as noiselessly as if he had fallen into
+green syrup.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what's all this?" cried the lordly Nipper, whose doings among
+his own no man dared to question, for reasons connected with health.
+At the first sight of him Bob Hetherington had quietly shouldered his
+musket, and begun pacing up and down with his nose in the air, as if
+he had never so much as dreamed of going near Prissy's basket.</p>
+
+<p>"What's all this, I say&mdash;you?" demanded his captain.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know any bloomin' thing about it&mdash;&mdash;" began Bob, with whom
+ignorance, if not honesty, was certainly the best policy.</p>
+
+<p>"Salute!" roared his officer; "don't you know enough to salute when
+you speak to me? Want to get knocked endways?"</p>
+
+<p>Sulkily Bob Hetherington obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Nipper Donnan, somewhat appeased by the appearance of
+Nosie Cuthbertson as he scrambled up the bank, with the green scum of
+duckweed clinging all over him. He was shaking his head and muttering
+anathemas, declaring what his father would do to Nipper Donnan, when
+within his heart he knew that first of all something<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> very painful
+would be done to himself by that able-bodied relative as soon as ever
+he showed face at home.</p>
+
+<p>"This girl she come to the drawbridge and hollered&mdash;that's all I
+know!" said the sentry, disassociating himself from any trouble as
+completely as possible. Bob felt that under the circumstances it was
+very distinctly folly to be wise. "I don't know what she hollered, but
+Nosie he runs an' begins twisting her arm, and then the girl she
+begins to holler again!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean to," said Prissy tremulously, "but he <i>was</i> hurting so
+dreadfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, you!" shouted Nipper to the retiring Nosie. Whereupon that
+young gentleman, hearing the dreadful voice of his chief officer, and
+being at the time on the right side of the moat, did not pause to
+respond, but promptly took to his heels in the direction of the town.</p>
+
+<p>"Run after him and bring him back, two of you fellows! Don't dare come
+back without him!" cried Nipper, and at his word two big boys detached
+themselves from the doorposts in which the guard was kept, and dashed
+after the deserter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't hurt him&mdash;perhaps he didn't mean it!" cried the universally
+sympathetic Prissy. "He didn't hurt me much after all, and it is quite
+better now anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Nipper Donnan could, as we know, be as cruel as anybody, but he liked
+to keep both the theory and practice of terror in his own hands.
+Besides, some possible far-off fragrance from another life stirred in
+him when he saw the slim girlish figure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> of Prissy Smith, clad all in
+white with a large sun-bonnet edged with pale green, standing on the
+bank and appealing to him with eyes different from any he had ever
+seen. He wanted, he knew not why, to kick Nosie Cuthbertson&mdash;kick him
+much harder than he had done before he saw whom he was tormenting. He
+had never particularly noticed any one's eyes before. He had thought
+vaguely that every one had the same kind of eyes.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap31i1.jpg" width="400" height="384" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE RETURN OF THE TWO SWIFT FOOTMEN.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you want?" he said gruffly. For with Nipper and his
+class emotion or shamefacedness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> of any kind always in the first
+instance produces additional dourness.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy smiled upon him&mdash;a glad, confident smile. She was the daughter
+of one war chief, the sister of another, and she knew that it is
+always best and simplest to treat only with principals.</p>
+
+<p>"You know that I didn't come to spy or find out anything, don't you?"
+she said; "only I was so sorry to think you were fighting with each
+other, when the Bible tells us to love one another. Why can't we all
+be nice together? I'm sure Hugh John would if you would&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Gammon&mdash;this is our castle," said Nipper Donnan sullenly, "my father
+he says so. Everybody says so. Your father has no right to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but&mdash;" replied Prissy, with woman's gentle wit avoiding all
+discussion of the bone of contention, "I'm sure you would let us come
+here and have picnics and things. And you could come too, and play at
+soldiers and marching and drills&mdash;all without fighting to hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"Fighting is the best fun!" snarled Nipper; "besides, 'twasn't us that
+begun it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," answered Prissy, "wouldn't it be all the nicer of you if you
+were to stop first?"</p>
+
+<p>But this Nipper Donnan could not be expected to understand. A
+diversion was caused at this moment by the return of the two swift
+footmen, with the culprit Nosie between them, doing the frog's march,
+and having his own experiences as to what arm-twisting meant.</p>
+
+<p>"Cast him into the deepest dungeon beneath the castle moat!" thundered
+the brigand chief.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Can't," said the elder of the two captors, one Joe Craig, the son of
+the Carlisle carrier; "can't&mdash;we couldn't get him out again if we
+did!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well then,"&mdash;returned the great chief, swiftly deciding upon an
+alternative plan, as if he had thought about it from the first, "chuck
+him down anywhere on the stones, and get Fat Sandy to sit on him."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap31i2.jpg" width="400" height="377" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;HYDRAULIC PRESSURE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Joe Craig obediently saluted, and presently sundry moans and sounds of
+exhausted breath indicated that Nosie Cuthbertson was being subjected
+to hydraulic pressure by the unseen tormentor whom Nipper Donnan had
+called Fat Sandy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> Prissy felt that nothing she could say would for
+the present lessen Master Nosie's griefs, so she went on to accomplish
+her purpose by other means.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Mr. Captain," she said politely, "I thought you would
+like to taste our nice sheep's-head-pie. Janet makes it all out of her
+own head. Besides, there are some dee-licious fruits which I have
+brought you; and if you will let me come in, I will make you some
+lovely tea?"</p>
+
+<p>Nipper Donnan considered, and at last shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," he said, "'tisn't regular. How do we know that you
+aren't a spy?"</p>
+
+<p>"You could bind my eyes with a napkin, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the thing!" cried several of Nipper's followers, who scented
+something to eat, and who knew that the commissariat was the weak
+point in the defences of the Castle of Windy Standard under the
+Consulship of Donnan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the chief, "that's according to rule. Here, Timothy
+Tracy, tell us if that is all right."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon uprose Timothy Tracy, a long lank boy with yellowish hair
+and dull lack-lustre eyes, out of a niche in the wall and unfolded a
+number of "The Wild Boys of New York." He rustled the flaccid,
+ill-conditioned leaves and found the place.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then Bendigo Bill went to the gateway of the stockade to interview
+the emissary of the besiegers. With keen unerring eyes he examined<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+his credentials, and finding them correct, he took from the breast of
+his fringed buckskin hunting-dress a handkerchief of fine Indian silk,
+and with it he swathed the eyes of the ambassador. Then taking the
+envoy by the hand he led him past the impregnable defences of the
+Comanche Cowboys into the presence of their haughty chief, who was
+seated with the fair Luluja beside him, holding her delicate hand, and
+inhaling the fragrance of a choice Havanna cigar through his noble
+aquiline nose.'</p>
+
+<p>"That's all it says," said Timothy Tracy, succinctly, and straightway
+curled himself up again to resume his own story at the place where he
+had left it off.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's all pretty straight and easy. Nobody can say fairer nor
+that," meditated Bob Hetherington.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said his chief; "who asked for your oar? I'll knock the
+bloomin' nut off you if you don't watch out. Blindfold the emissary of
+the enemy, and bring her before me into the inner court."</p>
+
+<p>And with this peremptory command, Nipper Donnan disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>But the order was more easily given than obeyed. For not only could
+the entire array of the Comanche Cowboys produce nothing even
+distantly resembling Indian silk (which at any rate was a counsel of
+perfection), but what was worse, their pockets were equally destitute
+of common domestic linen. Indeed the proceedings would have fallen
+through at this point had not the ambassadress<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> offered her own. This
+was knotted round her brows by Joe Craig, with the best intentions in
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after completing the arrangement, he stepped in front of
+Prissy and said, thrusting his fist below her nose, "Tell me if you
+see anything&mdash;mind, true as 'Hope-you-may-Die!'"</p>
+
+<p>"I do see something, something very dirty," said Prissy, "but I can't
+quite tell what it is."</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>can</i> see, boys," cried Joe indignantly, "it's my hand."</p>
+
+<p>Every boy recognised the description, and the handkerchief was once
+more adjusted with greater care and precision than before, so that it
+was only by the sense of smell that Prissy could judge of the
+proximity of Joe Craig's fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Please let me carry my basket myself&mdash;I've got my best china
+tea-service in it&mdash;and then I will be sure that it won't get broken."</p>
+
+<p>A licentious soldiery was about to object, but a stern command issued
+unexpectedly from one of the arrow-slits through which their chief had
+been on the watch.</p>
+
+<p>"Give the girl the basket! Do you hear&mdash;you?"</p>
+
+<p>And in this manner Prissy entered the castle, guarded on either side
+by soldiers with fixed (wooden) bayonets. And at the inner and outer
+ports, the convoy was halted and asked for the pass-word.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Death!</i>" cried Joe Craig, at the pitch of his voice.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Vengeance!</i>" replied the sentry. "Pass, '<i>Death</i>'!"</p>
+
+<p>At last Prissy felt the grass beneath her feet, and the handkerchief
+being slipped from her eyes, she found herself within the courtyard of
+the castle. The captain of the band sat before her with a red sash
+tied tightly about his waist. By his side swung a butcher's steel,
+almost as long and twice as dangerous as a sword.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy began her mission at once, to allow Captain Donnan no time to
+order her out again, or to put her into a dungeon, as he had done with
+Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we had better have tea first," she said. "Have you got a
+match-box?"</p>
+
+<p>She could not have taken a better line. Nipper Donnan stepped down
+from his high horse at once. He put his hand into his pocket. "I have
+only fusees," he said grandly, "but perhaps they will do. You see
+regular smokers never use anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, they will do perfectly," returned Prissy sweetly, "it is just
+to light the spirit-lamp. See how nicely it fits in. Isn't it a
+beauty? I got that from father on my birthday. Wasn't it nice of him?"</p>
+
+<p>Nipper Donnan grunted. He never found any marked difference between
+his birthday and any other day. Nevertheless he stood by and assisted
+at the making of the tea, a process which interested him greatly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall need some more fresh spring water for so many cups," said
+Prissy, "I only brought the full of the kettle with me."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The chief slightly waved a haughty hand, which instantly impelled Joe
+Craig forward as if moved by a spring. "Bring some fresh water from
+the well!" he commanded.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Craig took the tin dipper, and was marching off. Prissy looked
+distressed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said the robber chief. Now Prissy did not want to be
+rude, but she had her feelings.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please, Mr. Captain," she said, "his hands&mdash;I think he has
+perhaps been working&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Nipper Donnan had no fine scruples, but he respected them in such an
+unknown quantity as this dainty little lady with the green trimmed
+sun-bonnet and the widely-opened eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Tracy, fetch the water, you lazy jaundiced toad!" he commanded. The
+sallow student rose unwillingly, and moved off with his face still
+bent upon the thrilling pages of "The Wild Boys of New York," which he
+held folded small in his hand for convenience of perusal.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the tea being made, the white cloth was laid on the grass,
+and the entire company of the Smoutchy Boys crowded about, always
+excepting the sentinels at the east and west doors, who being on duty
+could not immediately participate. The sheep's-head-pie, the bread,
+the butter, the fruits were all set out in order, and the whole
+presented such an appearance as the inside of the Castle of Windy
+Standard had never seen through all its generations.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy conducted herself precisely as if she had been dispensing
+afternoon tea to callers in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> drawing-room, as, since her last
+birthday, her father had occasionally permitted her to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you take sugar?" she asked, delicately poising a piece in the
+dolls' sugar-tongs, and smiling her most politefully conventional
+smile at Nipper Donnan.</p>
+
+<p>The brigand chief had never been asked such a question before, and had
+no answer of the usual kind at hand. But he replied for all that.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Rather!</i>" he cried in a burst, "if the grocer's not lookin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean in your tea! Do you take sugar in your tea?"</p>
+
+<p>Prissy was still smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Nipper appeared to acquiesce. Two knobs of sugar were dropped in. The
+whipped cream out of the wide-mouthed bottle was spooned delicately on
+the top, and with a yet more charming smile the cup was passed to him.
+He held it between his finger and thumb, as an inquiring naturalist
+holds a rare beetle. Then he put it down on a low fragment of wall and
+looked at it.</p>
+
+<p>"One lump or two?" queried Prissy again, graciously transferring her
+attentions to Joe Craig.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, what?" ejaculated that warrior. Prissy repeated her question.</p>
+
+<p>"As many as I can get!" cried the boy.</p>
+
+<p>So one by one the brigands were served, and the subdued look which
+rests upon a Sunday-school picnic at the hour of refreshment settled
+down upon them. The Smoutchy boy is bad and bold, but he does not like
+you to see him in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> act of eating. His instinct is to get behind a
+wall, or into the thick of a copse and do it there. A similar feeling
+sends the sparrow with a larger crumb than the others into the
+seclusion of his nest among the ivy.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless the bread and jam, the raisins, and the sheep's-head-pie
+disappeared 'like snow off a dyke.' The wonder of the thimbleful cups,
+continually replenished, grew more and more surprising; and, winking
+slyly at each other the Smoutchies passed them in with a touch of
+their caps to be filled and refilled again and again. Prissy kept the
+kettle beside her, out of which she poured the water brought by
+Timothy Tracy as she wanted it. The golden colour of the tea
+degenerated, but so long as a few drops of milk remained to mask the
+fraud from their eyes, the Smoutchies drank the warm water with equal
+relish.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides it's so much better for your nerves, you know!" said Prissy,
+putting her action upon a hygienic basis.</p>
+
+<p>At first the boys had been inclined to snatch the viands from the
+table-cloth, and there was one footprint on the further edge. But the
+iron hand of Nipper Donnan knocked two or three intruders sprawling,
+and after that the eatables were distributed as patiently and exactly
+as at a Lord Mayor's banquet.</p>
+
+<p>"Please will you let that boy get up?&mdash;I think he must have been sat
+upon quite long enough now," said Prissy, who could not bear to listen
+to the uneasy groaning of the oppressed prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The chief granted the boon. The sitter and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> his victim came in and
+were regaled amicably from one plate. "Pieces" and full cups of tea
+were despatched to the distant sentinels, and finally the whole
+company was in the midst of washing up, when Prissy, who had been
+kneeling on the grass wiping saucers one by one, suddenly rose to her
+feet with a little cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is so dreadful&mdash;I <i>quite</i> forgot!"</p>
+
+<p>The Smoutchies stood open-mouthed, some holding dishes, some with
+belated pieces of pie, some only with their hands in their pockets,
+but all waiting eagerly for the revelation of the dreadful thing which
+their hostess had forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, we forgot to say grace!" she cried&mdash;"well, anyway I am glad I
+remembered in time. We can say it now. Who is the youngest?"</p>
+
+<p>The boys all looked guiltily at each other. Prissy picked out a small
+boy of stunted aspect, but whose face was old and wizened. He had just
+put a piece of tobacco into his mouth to take away the taste of the
+tea.</p>
+
+<p>"You say it, little boy," she said pointedly, and shut her eyes for
+him to begin.</p>
+
+<p>The boy gasped, glanced once at his chief, and made a bolt for the
+door, through which he had fled before the sentinels had time to stop
+him. At the clatter Prissy opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with that boy? Couldn't he say grace? Didn't he
+remember the beginning? Well, you say it then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Nipper Donnan shook his head. He had a fine natural contempt for all
+religious services in the abstract, but when one was brought before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+him as a ceremony, his sense of discipline told him that it must
+somehow be valuable.</p>
+
+<p>"Better say it yourself," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Whereat Prissy devoutly clasped her hands and shut her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>There was a smart smack and something fell over. Prissy opened her
+eyes, and saw a boy sprawling on the grass.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," said Nipper Donnan cheerfully, "go ahead&mdash;Joe Craig laughed.
+I'll teach him to laugh except when I tell him to."</p>
+
+<p>So Prissy again proceeded with a grace of her own composition:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>God bless our table,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Bless our food;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And make us stable,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Brave and good.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>After all was over Prissy left the Castle of Windy Standard, without
+indeed obtaining any pledge from the chief of the army of occupation,
+but not without having done some good. And she went forth with dignity
+too. For not only did the robber chieftain provide her with an escort,
+but he ordered the ramparts to be manned, and a general salute to be
+fired in her honour.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy waved her hand vigorously, and had already proceeded a little
+way towards the stepping-stones, when she stopped, laid down her
+basket, and ran back to the postern gate. She took her little
+tortoise-shell card-case out of her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was nearly forgetting&mdash;how dreadfully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> rude of me!" she said,
+and forthwith pulled out a card on which she had previously written
+very neatly:</p>
+
+<div class="topbox">
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="h3"><i>Miss Priscilla Smith</i></p>
+<br />
+<p><i>At Home Every Day</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>She laid it on the stones, and tripped away. "I'm sorry I have not my
+brother's card to leave also," she said, looking up at the brigand
+chief, who had been watching her curiously from a window.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Nipper Donnan, "we shall be pleased to see him if he drops
+in on Saturday&mdash;or any other time."</p>
+
+<p>Then he waited till the trim white figure was some distance from the
+gateway before he took his cap from his head and waved it in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Three proper cheers for the little lady!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>And the grim old walls of the Castle of Windy Standard never echoed to
+a heartier shout than that with which the Smoutchy boys sped Miss
+Priscilla Smith, the daughter of their arch enemy, upon her homeward
+way.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy poised herself on tiptoe at the entrance of the copse, and blew
+them a dainty collective kiss from her fingers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thank you so much," she cried, "you are very kind. Come and see me
+soon&mdash;and be sure you stop to tea."</p>
+
+<p>And with that she tripped swiftly away homeward with an empty basket
+and a happy heart.</p>
+
+<p>That night in her little room before she went to sleep she read over
+her favourite text, "Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be
+called the children of God."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear," she said, "I should so like to be one some day."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap31i3.jpg" width="200" height="302" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap32.jpg" width="400" height="291" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap32d.jpg" width="98" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">S</span>ATURDAY</b> morning dawned calm and clear after heavy rain on the hills,
+with a Sabbath-like peace in the air. The smoke of Edam rose straight
+up into the firmament from a hundred chimneys, and the Lias Coal Mine
+contributed a yet taller pillar to the skies, which bushed out at the
+top till it resembled an umbrella with a thick handle. Hugh John had
+been very early astir, and one of his first visits had been to the
+gipsy camp, where he found Billy Blythe with several others all clad
+in their tumbling tights, practising their great Bounding Brothers'
+act.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello," cried Hugh John jovially, "at it already?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The mornin's the best time for suppling the jints!" answered Billy
+sententiously; "ask Lepronia Lovell, there. She should know with all
+them tin pans going clitter-clatter on her back."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be thankin' ye, Billy Blythe, to kape a tight holt on the slack
+o' that whopper jaw of yours. It will be better for you at supper-time
+than jeerin' at a stranger girl, that is arnin' her bite o' bread
+daycent. And that's a deal more than ye can do, aye, or anny wan like
+ye!"</p>
+
+<p>And with these brave words, Lepronia Lovell went jingling away.</p>
+
+<p>The Bounding Brothers threw themselves into knots, spun themselves
+into parti-coloured tops, turned double and treble somersaults, built
+human pyramids, and generally behaved as if they had no bones in any
+permanent positions throughout their entire bodies. Hugh John stood by
+in wonder and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you afraid?" cried Billy from where he stood, arching his
+shoulders and swaying a little, as one of the supporters of the
+pyramid. "No?&mdash;then take off your boots." Hugh John instantly stood in
+his stocking soles.</p>
+
+<p>"Up with him!" And before he knew it, he was far aloft, with his feet
+on the shoulders of the highest pair, who supported him with their
+right and left hands respectively. From his elevated perch he could
+see the enemy's flag flaunting defiance from the topmost battlements
+of the castle.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he reached the ground he mentioned what he had seen to
+Billy Blythe.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have it low and mean enough this night<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> as ever was, before the
+edge o' dark!" said Billy, with a grim nod of his head.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The rains of the night had swelled the ford so that the
+stepping-stones were almost impracticable&mdash;indeed, entirely so for the
+short brown legs of Sir Toady Lion. This circumstance added greatly to
+the strength of the enemy's position, and gave the Smoutchies a
+decided advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"They can't be at the castle all the time," said Billy; "why not let
+my mates and me go in before they get there? Then we could easily keep
+every one of them out."</p>
+
+<p>This suggestion much distressed General Smith, who endeavoured to
+explain the terms of his contract to the gipsy lad. He showed him that
+it would not be fair to attack the Smoutchies except on Saturday,
+because at any other time they could not have all their forces in the
+field.</p>
+
+<p>Billy thought with some reason that this was simple folly. But in time
+he was convinced of the wisdom of not "making two blazes of the same
+wasps' byke," as he expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Do for them once out and out, and be done with it!" was his final
+advice.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John could not keep from thinking how stale and unprofitable it
+would be when all the Smoutchies had been finally "done for," and when
+he did not waken to new problems of warfare every morning.</p>
+
+<p>According to the final arrangements the main attack was to be
+developed from the broadest part
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
+of the castle island below the
+stepping-stones. There were two boats belonging to the house of Windy
+Standard, lying in a boat-house by the little pier on the way to
+Oaklands. For security these were attached by a couple of padlocks to
+a strong double staple, which had been driven right through the solid
+floor of the landing-stage.</p>
+
+<p>The padlocks were new, and the whole appeared impregnable to the
+simple minds of the children, and even to Mike and Peter Greg. But
+Billy smiled as he looked at them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, opening them's as easy as falling off a stool when you're
+asleep. Gimme a hairpin."</p>
+
+<p>But neither Prissy nor Cissy Carter had yet attained to the dignity of
+having their hair done up, so neither carried such a thing about with
+them. Business was thus at a standstill, when Hugh John called to
+Prissy, "Go and ask Jane Housemaid to give us one."</p>
+
+<p>"A good thick 'un!" called Billy Blythe after her.</p>
+
+<p>The swift-footed Dian of Windy Standard had only been away a minute or
+two before she came flying back like the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"She-won't-give-us-any-unless-we-tell-her-what-it-is-for!" she panted,
+all in one long word.</p>
+
+<p>"Rats!" said Hugh John contemptuously, "ask her where she was last
+Friday week at eleven o'clock at night!"</p>
+
+<p>The Divine Huntress flitted away again on winged feet, and in a trice
+was back with three hairpins, still glossy from their recent task of
+supporting the well-oiled hair of Jane Housemaid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>With quick supple hand Billy twisted the wire this way and that, tried
+the padlock once, and then deftly bent the ductile metal again with a
+pair of small pincers. The wards clicked promptly back, and lo! the
+padlock was hanging by its curved tongue. The other was stiffer with
+rust, but was opened in the same way. The besiegers were thus in
+possession of two fine transports in which to convey their army to the
+scene of conflict.</p>
+
+<p>It was the plan of the General that the men under Billy Blythe should
+fill the larger of the two boats, and drop secretly down the left
+channel till they were close under the walls of the castle. The enemy,
+being previously alarmed by the beating of drums and the musketry fire
+on the land side, would never expect to be taken in the rear, and
+probably would not have a single soldier stationed there.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, towards the Edam Water, the walls of the keep rose thirty or
+forty feet into the air without an aperture wide enough to thrust an
+arm through. So that the need of defence on that side was not very
+apparent to the most careful captain. But at the south-west corner,
+one of the flanking turrets had been overthrown, though there still
+remained several steps of a descent into the water. But so high was
+the river on this occasion, that it lapped against the masonry of the
+outer defences. To this point then, apparently impregnable, the
+formidable division under Billy Blythe was to make its way.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing very martial about the appearance of these sons of
+the tent and caravan.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+The Bounding Brothers wore their trick dresses, and as for the rest,
+they were simply and comprehensively arrayed in shirt and trousers.
+Not a weapon, not a sash, not a stick, sword, nor gun broke the
+harmonious simplicity of the gipsy army.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was evident that they knew something which gave them secret
+confidence, for all the time they were in a state of high glee, only
+partially suppressed by the authority of their leader, and by the
+necessity for care in manning the boat with so large a crew. There
+were fourteen who were to adventure forth under Billy's pennon.</p>
+
+<p>To the former assailants of the Black Sheds there had been added a
+stout and willing soldier from the gardens of Windy Standard,&mdash;a boy
+named Gregory (or more popularly Gregory's Mixture), together with a
+forester lad, who was called Craw-bogle Tam from his former occupation
+of scaring the crows out of the corn. Sammy Carter had been cashiered
+some time ago by the Commander-in-chief, but nevertheless he appeared
+with three cousins all armed with dog-whips, which Sammy assured Hugh
+John were the deadliest of weapons at close quarters. Altogether it
+was a formidable array.</p>
+
+<p>The boat for the attack on the land side was so full that there
+remained no room for Toady Lion. That young gentleman promptly sat
+down on the landing-stage, and sent up a howl which in a few moments
+would certainly have brought down Janet Sheepshanks and all the
+curbing powers from the house, had he not been committed to the care
+of Prissy, with public instructions to get him
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+some toffy and a
+private order to take him into the town, and keep him there till the
+struggle was over.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy went off with Sir Toady Lion, both in high glee.</p>
+
+<p>"I'se going round by the white bwidge&mdash;so long, everybody! I'll be at
+the castle as soon as you!" he cried as he departed.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John sighed a sigh of relief when he saw them safely off the
+muster-ground. Cissy, however, was coming on board as soon as ever the
+boat was ready to start. She had been posted to watch the movements of
+the household of Windy Standard, and would report at the last moment.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," she cried from her watch-tower among the whins, "Prissy
+and Toady Lion are round the corner, and Janet Sheepshanks has just
+gone into the high garden to get parsley."</p>
+
+<p>"Up anchors," cried Hugh John solemnly, "the hour has come!"</p>
+
+<p>Mike and Billy tossed the padlock chains into the bottom of the boats
+and pushed off. There were no anchors, but the mistake was permissible
+to a simple soldier like General Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap33.jpg" width="400" height="310" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">TOADY LION'S SECOND LONE HAND.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap33d.jpg" width="94" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">E</span>DAM</b> Water ran swiftly, surging and pushing southward on its way to
+the sea. It was brown and drumly with a wrack of twigs and leaves,
+snatched from the low branches of the hazels and alders which fringed
+its banks. It fretted and elbowed, frothing like yeast about the
+landing-place from which the two boat-loads were to set out for the
+attack.</p>
+
+<p>General Napoleon Smith, equipped with sword and sash, sat in the stern
+of the first, in order to steer, while Prince Michael O'Donowitch
+stood on the jetty and held the boat's head. The others sat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> still in
+their places till the General gave the word. The eager soldiery vented
+their feelings in a great shout. Cissy Carter took her place with a
+flying leap just as the rope was cast off, and the fateful voyage
+began.</p>
+
+<p>At first there was little to be done save in the way of keeping the
+vessel's head straight, for the Edam Water, swirling and brown with
+the mountain rains, hurried her towards the island with almost too
+great speed. With a rush they passed the wide gap between the
+unsubmerged stones of the causeway, at which point the boldest held
+his breath. The beach of pebbles was immediately beyond. But they were
+not to be allowed to land without a struggle; for there, directly on
+their front, appeared the massed forces of the enemy, occupying the
+high bluff behind, and prepared to prevent the disembarkation by a
+desperate fusillade of stones and turf.</p>
+
+<p>It was in this hour of peril that the soldierly qualities of the
+leader again came out most strongly.</p>
+
+<p>He kept the boat's head straight for the shore, as if he had been
+going to beach her, till she was within a dozen yards; then with a
+quick stroke of his steering oar he turned her right for the willow
+copses which fringed the island on the eastern side. The water had
+risen, so that these were sunk to half their height in the
+quick-running flood, and their leaves sucked under with the force of
+the current. But behind there was a quiet backwater into which Hugh
+John ran his vessel head on till she slanted with a gentle heave up on
+the green turf.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Overboard every man!" he cried, and showed the example himself by
+dashing into the water up to the knees, carrying the blue ensign of
+his cause. The enemy had not expected this rapid flank movement, and
+waited only till the invaders had formed in battle array to retreat
+upon the castle, fearful perhaps of being cut off from their
+stronghold.</p>
+
+<p>General-Field-Marshal Smith addressed his army.</p>
+
+<p>"Soldiers," he said, "we've got to fight, and it's dead earnest this
+time, mind you. We're going to lick the Smoutchies, so that they will
+stay licked a long time. Now, come on!"</p>
+
+<p>This brief address was considered on all hands to be a model effort,
+and worthy of the imitation of all generals in the face of the enemy.
+The most vulnerable part of the castle from the landward side was
+undoubtedly the great doorway&mdash;an open arch of some six feet wide,
+which, however, had to be approached under a galling cross fire from
+the ports at either side and from the lintel above.</p>
+
+<p>"It's no use wasting time," cried the General; "follow me to the
+door."</p>
+
+<p>And with his sword in his hand he darted valiantly up the steep
+incline which led to the castle. Cissy Carter charged at his left
+shoulder also sword in hand, while Mike and Peter, with Gregory's
+Mixture and the Craw Bogle, were scarcely a step behind.</p>
+
+<p>Stones and mortar hailed down upon the devoted band; sticks and clods
+of turf struck them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> on their shoulders and arms. But with their teeth
+clenched and their heads bent low, the storming party rushed
+undauntedly upon their foes.</p>
+
+<p>The Smoutchies had built a breast-work of driftwood in front of the
+great entrance, but it was so flimsy that Mike and his companions
+kicked it away in a moment&mdash;yet not before General Smith, light as a
+young goat, had overleaped it and launched himself solitary on the
+foe. Then, with the way clear, it was cut and thrust from start to
+finish.</p>
+
+<p>First among the assailants General Smith crossed swords with the great
+Nipper Donnan himself. But his reserves had not yet come up, and so he
+was beaten down by three cracks on the head received from different
+quarters at the same time. But like Witherington in the ballad, he
+still fought upon his knees; and while Prince Michael and Gregory's
+Mixture held the enemy at bay with their stout sticks, the stricken
+Hugh John kept well down among their legs, and used his sword from
+underneath with damaging effect.</p>
+
+<p>"Give them the point&mdash;cold steel!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Cowld steel it is!" shouted Prince Michael, as he brought down his
+blackthorn upon the right ear of Nipper Donnan.</p>
+
+<p>"Cauld steel&mdash;tak' you that!" cried Peter Greg the Scot as he let out
+with his left, and knocked Nosey Cuthbert over backwarks into the hall
+of the castle.</p>
+
+<p>Thus raged in front the heady fight; and thus with their faces to the
+foe and their weapons in their hands, we leave the vanguard of the
+army of
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+Windy Standard, in order that for a little we may follow the
+fortunes of the other divisions.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Yes, divisions is the word, that is to say Billy Blythe's gipsy
+division and&mdash;Sir Toady Lion.</p>
+
+<p>For once more Toady Lion was playing a lone hand.</p>
+
+<p>So soon as Prissy and he had been left behind, we regret to be obliged
+to report that the behaviour of the distinguished knight left much to
+be desired.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be bad, Toady Lion," said his sister, gently taking him by the
+hand; "come and look at nice picture-books."</p>
+
+<p>"Will be bad," growled Toady Lion, stamping his little foot in
+impotent wrath; "doan want t' look at pitchur-books&mdash;want to go and
+fight! And I will go too, so there!"</p>
+
+<p>And in his fiery indignation he even kicked at his sister Prissy, and
+threw stones after the boat in which the expedition had sailed. The
+gipsy division, which was to wait till they heard the noise of battle
+roll up from the castle island before cutting loose, took pity on Sir
+Toady Lion, and but for the special nature of the service required of
+them, they would, I think, have taken him with them.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a rare well-plucked little 'un!" cried Joe Baillie. "See how
+he shuts his fists, and cuts up rough!"</p>
+
+<p>"A little man!" said the leader encouragingly; "walks into his
+sister's shins, don't he, the little codger!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let me go wif you, please," pleaded Toady Lion; "I'll kill you
+unless!&mdash;Kill you every one!" And his voice was full of bloodshed.</p>
+
+<p>"Last time 'twas me that d'livered Donald, when they all runned away
+or got took prisoner; and now they won't even take me wif them!"</p>
+
+<p>Billy regretfully shook his head. It would not do to be cumbered with
+small boys in the desperate mission on which they were going. The hope
+was forlorn enough as it was.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till we come back, little 'un," he said kindly; "run away and
+play with your sister."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion stamped on the ground more fiercely than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't stop and play wif a girl. If you don't let me come, I shall
+kill you."</p>
+
+<p>And with sentiments even more discreditable, he pursued their boat as
+long as he could reach it with volleys of stones, to the great delight
+of the gipsy boys, who stimulated him to yet more desperate exertions
+with cries of "Well fielded!" "Chuck her in hard!" "Hit him with a big
+one!" While some of those in the stern pretended to stand shaking in
+deadly fear, and implored Toady Lion to spare them because they were
+orphans.</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't spare none&mdash;shall kill 'oo every one!" cried the angry Toady
+Lion, lugging at a bigger stone than all, which he could not lift
+above three inches from the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Will smass 'oo with this, Billy Blythe&mdash;bad Billy!" he exclaimed, as
+he wrestled with the boulder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, spare me&mdash;think of my family, Toady Lion, my pore wife and
+childer," pleaded Billy hypocritically.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oo should have finked of 'oo fambly sooner!" cried Toady Lion,
+staggering to the water's edge with the great stone.</p>
+
+<p>But at this moment the noise of the crying of those warring for the
+mastery came faintly up from the castle island. The rope that had been
+passed through the ring on the landing-stage and held ready in the
+hand of Billy Blythe, was loosened, and the second part of the
+besieging expedition went down with the rushing spate which reddened
+Edam Water. And as they fell away Billy stood up and called for three
+cheers for "little Toady Lion, the best man of the lot."</p>
+
+<p>But Toady Lion stood on the shore and fairly bellowed with impotent
+rage, and the sound of his crying, "I'll kill 'oo! I'll kill 'oo
+dead!" roused Janet Sheepshanks, who was taking advantage of her
+master's absence to carry out a complete house-cleaning. She left the
+blanket-washing to see what was the matter. But Toady Lion, angry as
+he was, had sense enough to know that if Janet got him, he would be
+superintended all the morning. So with real alacrity he slipped aside
+into the "scrubbery," and there lay hidden till Janet, anxious that
+her maids should not scamp their house-work, was compelled to hurry
+back to the laundry to see that the blankets were properly washed.</p>
+
+<p>After this there was but one thing to do, and so the second division,
+under Sir Toady Lion,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+did it. He resolved to turn the enemy's flank,
+and attack him with reinforcements from an entirely unexpected
+quarter. So, leaving Prissy to her own devices, he took to his heels,
+and his fat legs carried him rapidly in the direction of the town of
+Edam. Difficulties there were of course, such as the barrier of the
+white lodge gate, where old Betty lay in wait for him.</p>
+
+<p>But Toady Lion circumnavigated Betty by going to the lodge-door and
+shouting with all his might, "Betty, come quick, p'raps they's some
+soldiers comin' down the road&mdash;maybe Tom's comin', 'oo come and look."</p>
+
+<p>"Sodjers&mdash;where?&mdash;what?" cried old Betty, waking up hastily from her
+doze, and fumbling in her pocket for the gate-key.</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion was at her elbow when she undid the latch. Toady Lion
+charged past her with a yell. Toady Lion it was who from the safe
+middle of the highway made the preposterous explanation, "Oh no, they
+isn't no soldiers. 'Tis only a silly old fish-man wif a tin trumpet."</p>
+
+<p>"Come back, sir, or I'll tell your father! Come back at once!" cried
+old Betty.</p>
+
+<p>But she might shake her head and nod with her nut-cracker chin till
+the black beads on her lace "kep" tinkled. All was in vain. Toady Lion
+was out of reach far down the dusty main road along which the Scots
+Greys had come the day that Hugh John became a soldier. Toady Lion was
+a born pioneer, and usually got what he wanted, first of all by dint
+of knowing exactly what he did want, and then "fighting it out on
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+that line if it took all summer"&mdash;or even winter too.</p>
+
+<p>The road to the town of Edam wound underneath trees great and tall,
+which hummed with bees and gnats that day as Toady Lion sped along,
+his bare feet "plapping" pleasantly in the white hot dust. He was
+furtively crying all the time&mdash;not from sorrow but with sheer
+indignation. He hated all his kind. He was going to desert to the
+Smoutchies. He would be a Comanche Cowboy if they would have him,
+since his brother and Cissy Carter had turned against him. Nobody
+loved him, and he was glad of it. Prissy&mdash;oh! yes, but Prissy did not
+count. She loved everybody and everything, even stitching and dollies,
+and putting on white thread gloves when you went into town. So he ran
+on, evading the hay waggons and red farm-carts without looking at
+them, till in a trice he had crossed Edam Bridge and entered the
+town&mdash;in the glaring streets and upon the hot pavement of which the
+sunshine was sleeping, and which on Saturday forenoon had more than
+its usual aspect of enjoying a perpetual siesta.</p>
+
+<p>The leading chemist was standing at his door, wondering if the rustic
+who passed in such a hurry could actually be on the point of entering
+the shop of his hated rival. The linen-draper at the corner under the
+town clock was divided between keeping an eye on his apprentices to
+see that they did not spar with yard sticks, and mentally criticising
+the ludicrous and meretricious window-dressing of his next-door
+neighbour.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+None of them cared at all for the small dusty boy with the
+tear-furrowed countenance who kept on trotting so steadily through the
+town, turned confidently up the High Street, and finally dodged into
+the path which led past the Black Sheds to the wooden bridge which
+joined the castle island to the butcher's parks. As he crossed the
+grass Toady Lion heard a wrathful voice from somewhere calling loudly,
+"Nipper! Nipper-r-r-r! Oh, wait till I catch you!"</p>
+
+<p>For it chanced that this day the leading butcher in Edam was without
+the services of both his younger assistants&mdash;his son Nipper and his
+message boy, Tommy Pratt. Mr. Donnan had a new cane in his hand, and
+he was making it whistle through the air in a most unpleasant and
+suggestive manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Get away out of my field, little boy&mdash;where are you going? What are
+you doing there?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was put at short range now, for all unwittingly Sir Toady
+Lion had almost run into butcher Donnan's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Please I finks I'se going to Mist'r Burnham's house," explained Toady
+Lion readily but somewhat unaccurately; "I'se keepin' off the
+grass&mdash;and I didn't know it was your grass anyway, please, sir."</p>
+
+<p>At the same time Toady Lion saluted because he also was a soldier, and
+Mr. Donnan, who in his untempered youth had passed several years in
+the ranks of Her Majesty's line, mechanically returned the courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, little shaver," he said not unkindly,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+"this isn't the way to
+Mr. Burnham's house. There it is over among the trees. But, hello,
+talk of the&mdash;ahem&mdash;why, here comes Mr. Burnham himself."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion clapped his hands and ran as fast as he could in the
+direction of the clergyman. Mr. Burnham was very tall, very soldierly,
+very stiff, and his well-fitting black coat and corded silk waistcoat
+were the admiration of the ladies of the neighbourhood. He was never
+seen out of doors without the glossiest of tall hats, and it was
+whispered that he had his trousers made tight about the calves on
+purpose to look like a dean. It was also understood in well-informed
+circles that he was writing a book on the eastward position&mdash;after
+which there would be no such thing as the Low Church. Nevertheless an
+upright, good, and, above all, kindly heart beat under the immaculate
+silk M. B. waistcoat; also strong capable arms were attached to the
+armholes of the coat which fitted its owner without a wrinkle. Indeed,
+Mr. Burnham had a blue jacket of a dark shade in which he had once
+upon a time rowed a famous race. It hung now in a glass cabinet, and
+was to the clergyman what Sambo Soulis was to General-Field-Marshal
+Smith.</p>
+
+<p>But as we know, the fear of man dwelt not in Sir Toady Lion, and
+certainly not fear of his clergyman. He trotted up to him and said, "I
+wants to go to the castle. You come."</p>
+
+<p>Now hitherto Mr. Burnham had always seen Sir Toady Lion as he came,
+with shining face and liberally plastered hair, from under the tender
+mercies of Janet Sheepshanks&mdash;with her parting
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+monition to behave
+(and perhaps something else) still ringing in his ear.</p>
+
+<p>So that it is no wonder that he did not for the moment recognise in
+the tear-stained, dust-caked face of the barefooted imp who addressed
+him so unceremoniously, the features of the son of his most prominent
+parishioner. He gazed down in mildly bewildered surprise, whereupon
+Toady Lion took him familiarly by the hand and reiterated his request,
+with an aplomb which had all the finality of a royal invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Take me to the castle on the island. I 'ants to go there!"</p>
+
+<p>"And who may you be, little boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't 'oo know? 'Oo knows me when 'oo comes to tea at our house!"
+cried Toady Lion reproachfully. "I'se Mist'r Smiff's little boy; and I
+'ants to go to the castle."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you want to go to the castle island?" asked Mr. Burnham.</p>
+
+<p>"To find my bruvver Hugh John," said Toady Lion instantly.</p>
+
+<p>The butcher had come up and stood listening silently, after having,
+with a certain hereditary respect for the cloth, respectfully saluted
+Mr. Burnham.</p>
+
+<p>"This little boy wants to go on the island to find his brother," said
+the clergyman; "I suppose I may pass through your field with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly! The path is over at the other side of the field. But I
+don't know but what I'll come along with you. I've lost my son and my
+message-boy too. It is possible they may be at the castle.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+"There is some dust being kicked up among the boys. I can't get my
+rascals to attend to business at all this last week or two."</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Donnan again caused his cane to whistle through the air in a
+way that turned Toady Lion cold, and made him glad that he was "Mr.
+Smift's little boy," and neither the son nor yet the errand-boy of the
+butcher of Edam.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the three came to the wooden bridge, and from it they could
+see the flag flying over the battlements of the castle, and a swarming
+press of black figures swaying this way and that across the bright
+green turf in front.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah&mdash;yonder they'se fightin'. Come on, Mist'r Burnham, we'll be in
+time yet!" shouted Toady Lion. "They saided that I couldn't come; and
+I've comed!"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a far-off burst of cheering came to them down the wind. Black
+dots swarmed on the perilous battlements of the castle. Other black
+dots were unceremoniously pitched off the lower ramparts into the
+ditch below. The red and white flag of jacobin rebellion was pulled
+under, and a clamorous crowd of disturbed jackdaws rose from the
+turrets and hung squalling and circling over the ancient and lofty
+walls.</p>
+
+<p>The conflict had indeed joined in earnest. The embattled foes were in
+the death grips; and, fearful lest he should arrive too late, Toady
+Lion hurried forward his reinforcements, crying, "Come on both of you!
+Come on, quick!" Butcher Donnan broke into a run, while Mr. Burnham,
+forgetting all about his silk waistcoat, clapped his
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+tall hat on the
+back of his head and started forward at his best speed, Toady Lion
+hanging manfully on to the long skirts of his coat, as the Highlanders
+had clung to the cavalry stirrups at Balaclava till they were borne
+into the very floodtide of battle.</p>
+
+<p>There were now two trump-cards in the lone hand.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap33i.jpg" width="150" height="169" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap34.jpg" width="400" height="263" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE CROWNING MERCY.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap34d.jpg" width="110" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">W</span>E</b> must now take up the story of the third division of the great
+expedition, the plan and execution of which so fully reflects the
+military genius of our distinguished hero; for though this part was
+carried out by Billy Blythe, the credit of the design, as well as the
+discovery of the means of carrying it out, were wholly due to General
+Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<p>When the second boat swept loose and the futile anger of Sir Toady
+Lion had ceased to excite the laughter of the crew, the gipsy lads
+settled down to watching the rush of the Edam Water as it swept them
+along. They had, to begin with, an easier task than the first boat
+expedition. No enemy opposed their landing. No dangerous concealed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+stepping-stones had to be negotiated on the route they were to follow.
+Leaving all to the action of the current, they swept through the
+entrance to the wider branch, and presently ranged up alongside the
+deserted water-front of the ancient defences. They let the castle drop
+a little behind, and then rowed up into the eddy made by the corner of
+the fallen tower, where, on the morning of his deliverance, Hugh John
+had disturbed the slumbering sheep by so unexpectedly emerging from
+the secret passage.</p>
+
+<p>Billy stepped on shore to choose a great stone for an anchor, and
+presently pulled the whole expedition alongside the fallen masonry, so
+that they were able to disembark as upon a pier.</p>
+
+<p>The Bounding Brothers immediately threw several somersaults just to
+let off steam, till Billy cuffed them into something like seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark to 'em," whispered Charlie Lee; "ain't they pitching it into
+them slick, over there on the other side. It's surely about our time
+to go at it."</p>
+
+<p>"Just you shut up and wait," hissed Billy Blythe under his breath.
+"That's all your job just now."</p>
+
+<p>And here, in the safe shelter of the ruined tower, the fourteen
+listened to the roar of battle surging, now high, now low, in heady
+fluctuations, turbulent bursts, and yet more eloquent silences from
+the other side of the keep.</p>
+
+<p>They could distinguish, clear above all, the voice of General Smith,
+encouraging on his men in the purest and most vigorous Saxon.</p>
+
+<p>"Go at them, boys! They're giving in. Sammy Carter, you sneak, I'll
+smash you, if you don't<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> charge! Go it, Mike! Wire in, boys! Hike them
+out like Billy-O!"</p>
+
+<p>And the Bounding Brothers, in their itching desire to take part,
+rubbed themselves down as if they had been horses, and softly squared
+up to each other, selecting the tenderest spots and hitting lightly,
+but with most wondrous accuracy, upon breast or chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't we punch them! Oh no!" whispered Charlie Lee.</p>
+
+<p>But from the way that he said it, he hardly seemed to mean what he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Just then came a tremendous and long continued gust of cheering from
+the defenders of the castle, which meant that they had cleared their
+front of the assailants. The sound of General Smith's voice waxed
+gradually fainter, as if he were being carried away against his will
+by the tide of retreat. Still at intervals he could be heard,
+encouraging, reproving, exhorting, but without the same glad confident
+ring in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>Flags of red and white were waved from the ramparts; pistols (charged
+with powder only) were fired from embrasures, and the Smoutchies rent
+their throats in arrogant jubilation. They thought that the great
+assault had failed.</p>
+
+<p>But behind them in the turret, all unbeknown, the Bounding Brothers
+silently patted one another with their knuckles as if desirous of
+practising affectionate greetings for the Smoutchies.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps they were; and then, again, perhaps they weren't.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now's our time," cried Billy Blythe; "come on, boys. Now for it!"</p>
+
+<p>And with both hands and feet he began to remove certain flag-stones
+and recently heaped up <i>d&eacute;bris</i> from the mouth of a narrow passage,
+the same by which Hugh John had made his escape. His men stood around
+in astonishment and slowly dawning admiration, as they realised that
+their attack was to be a surprise, the most complete and famous in
+history, and also one strictly devised and carried out on the best
+models. Though the rank and file did not know quite so much about that
+as their Commander-in-Chief, who was sure in his heart that Froissart
+would have been glad to write about his crowning mercy.</p>
+
+<p>It is one of the proofs of the genuine nobility of Hugh John's nature,
+and also of his consummate generalship, that he put the carrying out
+of the final <i>coup</i> of his great scheme into other hands, consenting
+himself to take the hard knocks, to be mauled and defeated, in order
+that the rout of the enemy might be the more complete.</p>
+
+<p>The rubbish being at last sufficiently cleared, Billy bent his head
+and dipped down the steps. Charlie Lee followed, and the fourteen were
+on their way. Silently and cautiously, as if he had been relieving a
+hen-roost of its superfluous inhabitants, Billy crept along, testing
+the foothold at every step. He came to the stairway up to the dungeon,
+pausing a moment, to listen. There was a great pow-wow overhead. The
+Smoutchies were in the seventh heaven of jubilation over the repulse
+of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Suddenly somebody in the passage sneezed.</p>
+
+<p>Billy turned to Charlie Lee. "If that man does that again, burke him!"
+he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a firm step he mounted the final ascent of the secret stair.
+His head hit hard against the roof at the top. He had not remembered
+how Hugh John had told him that the exit was under the lowest part of
+the bottle dungeon.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless that roof!" he muttered piously&mdash;more piously, perhaps, than
+could have been expected of him, considering his upbringing.</p>
+
+<p>"If Billy Blythe says that again, burke him!" said a carefully
+disguised gruff voice from the back&mdash;evidently that of the late
+sneezer.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence&mdash;or by the Lord I'll slay you!" returned Billy, in a hissing
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>There was the silence of the grave behind. Billy Blythe made himself
+much respected for the moral rectitude and true worth of his
+character.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the fourteen stepped clear of the damp stairs, and stood in
+the wide circuit of the dungeon.</p>
+
+<p>But the narrow circular exit of the cell was still twelve feet above
+them. How were they to reach it? The walls were smooth as the inside
+of the bottle from which the prison-house took its name, curving in at
+the top, without foothold or niches in their smooth surface, so that
+no climber could ascend more than a few feet.</p>
+
+<p>The Bounding Brothers stepped to the front, and with a hitch of their
+shoulders, stood waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"Ready!" said Billy.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Charlie Lee was balancing himself
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+on the third storey of
+the fraternal pyramid. He could just look over the edge of the
+platform on which the mouth of the dungeon was placed. He ducked down
+sharply.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap34i1.jpg" width="300" height="523" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE LIVING CHAIN.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They are all at their windows, yelling like fun," he whispered, with
+the white, eager look of battle on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Up, and at 'em!" said Billy, as if he had been the Great Duke.</p>
+
+<p>And at his word the Bounding Brothers arched their shoulders to
+receive the weight of the coming climbers. One after another the
+remaining eleven scrambled up, swift and silent as cats; and with
+Charlie Lee at their head, lay prone on the dungeon platform, waiting
+the word of command. Close as herrings in a barrel they crouched,
+their arms outstretched before them, and their chins sunk low on the
+masonry.</p>
+
+<p>Billy crept along till his head lay over the edge of the bottle
+dungeon. He extended his arms down. The highest Bounding Brother
+grasped them. His mate at the foot cast loose from the floor and
+swarmed up as on a ladder. The living chain swayed and dangled; but
+though his wrists ached as if they would part from their sockets,
+Billy never flinched; and finally, with Charlie Lee stretched across
+the hollow of his knees to keep all taut behind, by mere leverage of
+muscle he drew up the last brother upon the dungeon platform.</p>
+
+<p>The fourteen lay looking over upon the unconscious enemy. The level of
+the floor of the keep was six feet below. The Smoutchies to a man were
+at their posts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>With a nudge of his elbow Billy intimated that it was not yet time for
+the final assault. He listened with one ear turned towards the great
+open gateway, till he heard again the rallying shout of General
+Napoleon Smith.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Now then! Ready all! Double-quick! Char-r-r-ge!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>With a shout the first land division, once repulsed, came the second
+time at the foe. The Smoutchies crowded to the gateway, deserting
+their windows in order to repel the determined assault delivered by
+Hugh John and his merry men.</p>
+
+<p>"Now!" said Billy Blythe softly, standing up on the dungeon platform.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced about him. Every Bounding Brother and baresark man of the
+gipsy camp had the same smile on his face, the boxer's smile when he
+gives or takes punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Down leaped Billy Blythe, and straight over the floor of the keep for
+the great gateway he dashed. One, two&mdash;one, two! went his fists. The
+thirteen followed him, and such was the energy of their charge that
+the Smoutchies, taken completely by surprise, tumbled off their
+platforms by companies, fell over the broken steps by platoons, and
+even threw themselves in their panic into the arms of Hugh John and
+his corps, who were coming on at the double in front.</p>
+
+<p>Never was there such a rout known in history. The isolated Smoutchies
+who had been left in the castle dropped from window and tower at the
+peril of their necks in order that they might have a chance of
+reaching the ground in safety. Then
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
+they gathered themselves up and
+fled helter-skelter for the bridge which led towards the town of Edam.</p>
+
+<p>But what completed their demoralisation was that at this psychological
+moment the third division under Sir Toady Lion came into action. Mr.
+Burnham, with his coat-tails flying, caught first one and then
+another, and whelmed them on the turf, while the valiant butcher of
+Edam, having secured his own offspring firmly by the collar, caused
+his cane to descend upon that hero's back and limbs till the air was
+filled with the resultant music. And the more loudly Nipper howled,
+the faster and faster the Smoutchies fled, while the shillelahs of the
+two generals, and the fists of the Bounding Brothers, wrought havoc in
+their rear. The flight became a rout. The bridge was covered with the
+fugitives.</p>
+
+<p>The forces of Windy Standard took all the prisoners they wanted, and
+butcher Donnan took his son, who for many days had reason to remember
+the circumstance. He was a changed Smoutchy from that day.</p>
+
+<p>The camp of the enemy, with all his artillery, arms, and military
+stores, fell into the hands of the triumphant besiegers.</p>
+
+<p>At the intercession of Mr. Burnham the prisoners were conditionally
+released, under parole never to fight again in the same war&mdash;nor for
+the future to meddle with the Castle of Windy Standard, the property,
+as Hugh John insisted on putting it, of Mr. Picton Smith, Esq., J. P.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Burnham did what was perhaps more
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+efficacious than any oaths.
+He went round to all the parents, guardians, teachers, and employers
+of the Smoutchy army. He represented the state of the case to them,
+and the danger of getting into trouble with a man so determined and
+powerful as Mr. Picton Smith.</p>
+
+<p>The fists of the Bounding Brothers, the sword of General Napoleon, the
+teeth and nails of Sir Toady Lion (who systematically harassed the
+rear of the fleeing enemy) were as nothing to the several interviews
+which awaited the unfortunate Smoutchies at their homes and places of
+business or learning that evening, and on the succeeding Monday
+morning. Their torture of General Smith was amply avenged.</p>
+
+<p>The victorious army remained in possession of the field, damaged but
+happy. Their triumph had not been achieved without wounds and bruises
+manifold. So Mr. Burnham sent for half-a-crown's worth of
+sticking-plaster, and another half-crown's worth of ripe gooseberries.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon the three divisions with one voice cheered Mr. Burnham, and
+Toady Lion put his hand on the sacred silk waistcoat, and said in his
+most peculiar Toady-leonine grammar, "'Oo is a bwick. Us likes 'oo!"</p>
+
+<p>Which Mr. Burnham felt was, at the very least, equivalent to the
+thanks of Parliament for distinguished service.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very happy, a very hungry, a very sticky, and a very patchy
+army which approached the house of Windy Standard at six o'clock that
+night, and was promptly sent supperless to bed.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
+Hugh John parted with Cissy at the stepping-stones. Her eyes dwelt
+proudly and happily upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"You fought splendidly," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"We all fought splendidly," replied Hugh John, with a nod of approval
+which went straight to Cissy's heart, so that the tears sprang into
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you <i>are</i> a nice thing, Hugh John!" she cried impulsively,
+reaching out her hands to clasp his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not!" said Hugh John, startled and apprehensive. Then without
+waiting for more he turned hastily away.</p>
+
+<p>But all the same Cissy Carter was very happy that night as she went
+homeward, and did not speak or even listen when Sammy addressed her
+several times by the way upon the dangers of war and the folly of
+love.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap34i2.jpg" width="250" height="419" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap35.jpg" width="400" height="249" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">PRISSY'S COMPROMISE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap35d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">A</span>FTER</b> the turmoil and excitement of the notably adventurous days which
+ended with the capture of the castle, the succeeding weeks dragged
+strangely. The holidays were dwindling as quickly as the last grains
+of sand in an hourglass, and there was an uneasy feeling in the air
+that the end of old and the beginning of new things were alike at
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Picton Smith returned from London the day after the great battle.
+That afternoon he was closeted for a long time with Mr. Burnham, but
+not even the venturesome Sir Toady Lion on his hands and knees, could
+overhear what the two gentlemen had to say to each other. At all
+events<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> Mr. Smith did not this time attempt to force any confession
+from the active combatants. His failure on a former occasion had been
+complete enough, and he had no desire once more to confess himself
+worsted by Hugh John's determination to abjure all that savoured even
+remotely of the "dasht-mean."</p>
+
+<p>But it is certain that the Smoutchy ringleaders were not further
+punished, and Mr. Smith took no steps to enforce the interdict which
+he had obtained against trespassers on the castle island.</p>
+
+<p>For it was about this time that Prissy, having taken a great deal of
+trouble to understand all the bearings of the case, at last, with a
+brave heart, went and knocked at her father's study door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," said the deep grave voice instantly, sending a thrill
+through the closed door, which made her tremble and rather wish that
+she had not come.</p>
+
+<p>"Saint Catherine of Siena would not have been afraid," she murmured to
+herself, and forthwith opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, little girl, what is it? What can I do for you?" said her
+father, smiling upon her; for he had heard of her ambassadorial picnic
+to the Smoutchies, and perhaps his daughter's trustful gentleness had
+made him a little ashamed of his own severity.</p>
+
+<p>Prissy stood nerving herself to speak the words which were in her
+heart. She had seen Peace and kindly Concord bless her mission from
+afar; and now, like Paul before King Agrippa, she would not be
+unfaithful to the heavenly vision.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Father," she said at last, "you don't really want to keep people out
+of the castle altogether, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, if they behave themselves," said her father, "but the
+mischief is that they don't."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose, father, that there was some one always there to see that
+they did behave, would you mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," replied her father, "but you know, Prissy, I can't
+afford to keep a man down on the island to see that sixpenny trippers
+don't pull down my castle stone by stone, or break their own necks by
+falling into the dungeon."</p>
+
+<p>Prissy thought a little while, and then tried a new tack.</p>
+
+<p>"Father"&mdash;she went a little nearer to him and stroked the cuff of his
+coat-sleeve&mdash;"does the land beyond the bridge belong to you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Picton Smith moved away his hand. Her mother used to do just that,
+and somehow the memory hurt. Nevertheless, all unconsciously, the
+touch of the child's hand softened him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Prissy," he said wonderingly, "but what do you know about such
+things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing at all," she answered, "but I am trying to learn. I want
+everybody to love you, and think you as nice as I know you to be.
+Don't you think you could let some one you knew very well live in the
+little lodge by the white bridge, and keep out the horrid people, or
+see that they behaved themselves?"</p>
+
+<p>"The town would never agree to that," said her father, not seeing
+where he was being led.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think the town's people would if you gave them the
+sixpences all for themselves?"</p>
+
+<p>Her father pushed back his chair in great astonishment and looked at
+Prissy.</p>
+
+<p>"Little girl," he said very gravely, "who has been putting all this
+into your head? Has anybody told you to come to me about this?"</p>
+
+<p>Prissy shook her head quickly, then she looked down as if embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it? Go on!" said her father, but the words were more
+softly spoken than you would think only to see them printed.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody told me about anything&mdash;I just thought about it all myself,
+father," she answered, taking courage from a certain look in Mr.
+Smith's eyes; "once I heard you say that the money was what the
+town's-people cared about. And&mdash;and&mdash;well, I knew that Jane Housemaid
+wanted to get married to Tom Cannon, and you see they can't, because
+Tom has not enough wages to take a house."</p>
+
+<p>Prissy was speaking very fast now, rattling out the words so as to be
+finished before her father could interpose with any grown-up questions
+or objections.</p>
+
+<p>"And you know I remembered last night when I was lying awake that
+Catherine would have done this&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What Catherine?" said her father, who did not always follow his
+daughter's reasoning.</p>
+
+<p>"Saint Catherine of Siena, of course," said Prissy, for whom there was
+no other of the name; "so I came to you, and I want you to let Tom
+and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+Jane have the cottage, and Jane can take up the sixpences in a
+little brass plate like the one Mr. Burnham gets from the
+churchwardens on Sunday. And, oh! but I would just love to help her.
+May I sometimes, father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said her father, laughing, "there is perhaps something in what
+you say; but I don't think the Provost and Magistrates would ever
+agree. Now run away and play, and I will see what can be done."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>But all the same Prissy did not go and play, and it was not Mr. Picton
+Smith who saw what could be done. On the afternoon of the same day the
+Provost of the good town of Edam entered the Council Chamber wiping
+his face and panting vigorously. He was a stout man of much good
+humour when not crossed in temper, the leading chemist and druggist in
+the town, and as the proprietor of more houses and less education than
+any man in Edam, of very great influence among the councillors.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, billies," he cried jovially, "what do you think? There's a lass
+has keep'd me from the meetin' of this council for a full half-hour."</p>
+
+<p>"A lass!" answered the senior bailie, still more hilariously, "that's
+surely less than proper. I will be compelled to inform Mrs. Lamont of
+the fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was a lassie of twelve or thirteen," answered the Provost. "So
+none of your insinuations, Bailie Tawse, and I'll thank you. She had a
+most astonishing tale to tell. It appears she
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
+is Picton Smith's
+lassie from Windy Standard; and she says to me, says she, 'Provost, do
+you want to have the tourist folk that come to Edam admitted to the
+castle?' says she. 'Of course,' says I, 'that is what the law-plea is
+about. That dust is no settled yet.' 'Then,' says she, brisk as if she
+was hiring me at Yedam fair, 'suppose my father was willing to let ye
+charge a sixpence for admission, would you pay a capable man his wages
+summer and winter to look after it&mdash;a man that my father would approve
+of?' 'Aye,' says I, 'the council would be blythe and proud to do
+that'&mdash;me thinking of my sister's son Peter that was injured by a
+lamp-post falling against him last New Year's night as he was coming
+hame frae the Blue Bell. 'Then,' says she, 'I think it can be managed.
+My father will put Tom Cannon in the lodge at the white bridge. You
+will pay him ten shillings in the week for his wife looking after the
+gate and taking the parties over the castle.' 'His wife,' says I; 'Tom
+is no married that ever I heard.' 'No,' says she, 'but he will be very
+quick if he gets the lodge.' Then I thocht that somebody had put her
+up to all this, and I questioned her tightly. But no&mdash;certes, she is a
+clever lass. I verily believe if I had said the word she would hae
+comed along here to the council meeting and faced the pack o' ye. But
+I said to her that she might gang her ways hame, and that I would put
+the matter before the council mysel'!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap35i.jpg" width="400" height="632" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THEN,&#39; SAID PRISSY, &#39;I THINK IT CAN BE MANAGED.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Provost, who had been walking up and down all the time and wiping
+his brow, finally plumped solidly into his chair. There was a mighty
+discussion&mdash;in which, as usual, many epithets were bandied about; but
+finally it was unanimously agreed that, if the offer were put on a
+firm and legal basis and the interdict withdrawn, the "Smith's Lassie"
+compromise, as it was called for brevity, might be none such a bad
+solution of the difficulty for all parties.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Thus by the wise thought and brave heart of a girl was the great
+controversy ended. And now the tourist and holiday-maker, each after
+his kind, passes his sixpence into the slot of a clicking gate,
+instead of depositing it in the brazen offertory salver, which had
+been the desire of Prissy's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"For," said one of the councillors generously, when the plate was
+proposed, "how do we know that Mrs. Cannon might not keep every second
+sixpence for herself&mdash;or maybe send it up to Mr. Smith? We all know
+that she was long a servant in his house. No, no, honesty is
+honesty&mdash;but it's better when well looked after. Let us have a patent
+'clicker.' I have used one attached to my till for years, and found it
+of great utility in the bacon-and-ham trade."</p>
+
+<p>But the change made no difference to Hugh John and no difference to
+Toady Lion; for they came and went to the castle by the
+stepping-stones, and Cissy Carter took that way too, leaping as nimbly
+as any of them from stone to stone.</p>
+
+<p>On the Sunday after this was finally arranged, Mr. Burnham gave out
+his text:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of
+God."</p>
+
+<p>And this is the way he ended his sermon:
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
+"There is one here to-day
+whom I might without offence or flattery call a true child of God. I
+will not say who that is; but this I will say, that I, for one, would
+rather be such a peacemaker, and have a right to be called by that
+other name, than be general of the greatest army in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he must mean the Provost&mdash;or else my father," said Prissy to
+herself, looking reverently up to where, in the front row of the upper
+seats, the local chief magistrate sat, mopping his head with a red
+spotted handkerchief, and sunning himself in the somewhat sultry beams
+of his own greatness.</p>
+
+<p>As for Hugh John, he declared that for a man who could row in a
+college boat, and who worshipped an old blue coat hung up in a glass
+case, Mr. Burnham said more drivelling things than any man alive or
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>And Toady Lion said nothing. He was only wondering all through the
+service whether he could catch a fly without his father seeing
+him.&mdash;He found that he could not. After this failure he remembered
+that he had a brandy ball only half sucked in his left trousers'
+pocket. He got it out with some difficulty. It had stuck fast to the
+seams, and finally came away somewhat mixed up with twine, sealing
+wax, and a little bit of pitch wrapped in leather. But as soon as he
+got down to it the brandy ball proved itself thoroughly satisfactory,
+and the various flavours developed in the process of sucking kept
+Toady Lion awake till the blessed "Amen" released the black-coated
+throng.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion's gratitude was almost an entire thanksgiving service of
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>As he came out through the crowded porch, he put his hand into his
+father's, and with a portentous yawn piped out in his shrillest voice,
+"Oh, I is so tired."</p>
+
+<p>The smile which ran round the late worshippers showed that Toady Lion
+had voiced the sentiments of many of Mr. Burnham's congregation.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Mr. Burnham himself came out of the vestry just in time
+to hear the boy's frank expression of opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Toady Lion," he said genially, "the truth is, I was a
+little tired myself to-day. I promise not to keep you quite so long
+next Sunday morning. You must remind me if I transgress. Nobody will,
+if you don't, Toady Lion."</p>
+
+<p>"Doan know what 'twansguess' is&mdash;but shall call out loud if you goes
+on too long&mdash;telling out sermons and textises and fings."</p>
+
+<p>As they walked along the High Street of Edam, Prissy glanced
+reverently at the Provost.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I could have been a peacemaker too, like him," she sighed,
+"and then Mr. Burnham might have preached about me. Perhaps I will
+when I grow up."</p>
+
+<p>For next to Saint Catherine of Siena, the Provost was her ideal of a
+peacemaker.</p>
+
+<p>As they walked homeward, Mr. Burnham came and touched Prissy on the
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Money cannot buy love," he said, somewhat sententiously, "but you, my
+dear, win it by loving actions."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He turned to Toady Lion, who was trotting along somewhat sulkily,
+holding his sister's hand, and grumbling because he was not allowed to
+chase butterflies on Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>"Arthur George," said Mr. Burnham, "if anybody was to give you a piece
+of money and say, 'Will you love me for half-a-crown,' you couldn't do
+it, could you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Could just, though!" contradicted Toady Lion flatly, kicking at the
+stones on the highway.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," his instructor suavely explained, "if it were a bad person
+who asked you to love him, you wouldn't love him for half-a-crown,
+surely!"</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion turned the matter over.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, speaking slowly as if he were thinking hard between
+the words, "it might have to be five sillin's if he was <i>very</i> bad!"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap36.jpg" width="400" height="327" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">HUGH JOHN'S WAY-GOING.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap36d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">T</span>HE</b> secret which had oppressed society after the return of Mr. Picton
+Smith from London, being revealed, was that Hugh John and Sammy Carter
+were both to go to school. For a while it appeared as if the
+foundations of the world had been undercut&mdash;the famous fellowship of
+noble knights disbanded, Prissy and Cissy, ministering angel and wild
+tomboy, alike abandoned to the tender mercies of mere governesses.</p>
+
+<p>Strangest of all to Prissy was the indubitable fact that Hugh John
+wanted to go. At the very first mention of school he promptly forgot
+all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> about his noblest military ambitions, and began oiling his
+cricket bat and kicking his football all over the green. Mr. Burnham
+was anxious about his pupil's Latin and more than doubtful about his
+Vulgar Fractions; but the General himself was chiefly bent on
+improving his round arm bowling, and getting that break from the left
+down to a fine point.</p>
+
+<p>Every member of the household was more or less disturbed by the coming
+exodus&mdash;except Sir Toady Lion. On the last fateful morning that
+self-contained youth maundered about as usual among his pets, carrying
+to and fro saucers of milk, dandelion leaves cut small, and other
+dainties&mdash;though Hugh John's boxes were standing corded and labelled
+in the hall, though Prissy was crying herself sick on her bed, and
+though there was even a dry hard lump high up in the great hero's own
+manly throat.</p>
+
+<p>His father was giving his parting instructions to his eldest son.</p>
+
+<p>"Work hard, my boy," he said. "Tell the truth, never tell tales, nor
+yet listen to them. Mind your own business. Don't fight, if you can
+help it; but if you have to, be sure you get home with your left
+before the other fellow. Practise your bowling, the batting will
+practise itself. And when you play golf, keep your eye on the ball."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to play up, father," said Hugh John, "and anyway I won't be
+'dasht-mean'!"</p>
+
+<p>His father was satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was Prissy who came to say good-bye.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> She had made all sorts
+of good resolutions, but in less than half a minute she was bawling
+undisguisedly on the hero's neck. And as for the hero&mdash;well, we will
+not say what he was doing, something most particularly unheroic at any
+rate.</p>
+
+<p>Janet Sheepshanks hovered in the background, saying all the time, "For
+shame, Miss Priscilla, think shame o' yoursel'&mdash;garring the laddie
+greet like that when he's gaun awa'!"</p>
+
+<p>But even Janet herself was observed to blow her own nose very often,
+and to offer Hugh John the small garden hoe instead of the neatly
+wrapped new silk umbrella she had bought for him out of her own money.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while Sir Toady Lion kept on carrying milk and fresh
+lettuce leaves to his stupid lop-eared rabbits. Yet it was by no means
+insensibility which kept him thus busied. He was only playing his
+usual lone hand.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even Toady Lion was not without his own proper sense of the
+importance of the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a funny fing 'at you wants to see at the stile behind the
+stable," he remarked casually to Hugh John, as he went past the front
+door with an armful of hay for bedding, "but I promised not to tell
+w'at it is."</p>
+
+<p>Immediately Hugh John slunk out, ran off in an entirely different
+direction, circled about the "office houses," reached the stile behind
+the stable&mdash;and there, with her eyes very big, and her underlip
+quivering strangely, he discovered Cissy Carter.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short and looked at her. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> pressure of having to say
+farewell, or of making a stated speech of any kind, weighed heavily
+upon him. The two looked at each other like young wild animals&mdash;or as
+if they were children who had never been introduced, which is the same
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Hugh John Picton, you don't care!" sobbed Cissy at last. "And I don't
+care either!" she added haughtily, commanding herself after a pathetic
+little pause.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, I do," answered Hugh John vehemently, "only every fellow has
+to. Sammy is going too, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't care a button for Sammy!" was Cissy's most unsisterly
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John tried to think of something to say. Cissy was now sobbing
+quietly and persistently, and that did not seem to help him.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, don't now, Ciss! Stop it, or you'll make me cry too!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't care! You don't love me a bit! You know you don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do&mdash;I do," protested the hero, in despair, "there&mdash;there&mdash;<i>now</i> you
+can't say I don't care."</p>
+
+<p>"But you'll be so different when you come back, and you'll have lost
+your half of the crooked sixpence."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't, for true, Cissy&mdash;and I shan't ever look at another girl nor
+play horses with them even if they ask me ever so."</p>
+
+<p>"You will, I know you will!"</p>
+
+<p>A rumble of wheels, a shout from the front door&mdash;"Hugh John&mdash;wherever
+can that boy have got to?"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Ciss, I must go. Oh hang it, don't go making a fellow cry.
+Well, I <i>will</i> say it then, 'I love you, Ciss!' There&mdash;will that
+satisfy you?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap36i.jpg" width="400" height="381" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;A SLIM BUNDLE OF LIMP WOE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something lit on the end of Cissy's nose, which was very red and wet
+with the tears that had run down it. There was a clatter of feet, and
+the Lord of Creation had departed. Cissy sank down behind the stone
+wall, a slim bundle of limp woe, done up in blue serge trimmed with
+scarlet.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The servants were gathered in the hall. Several of the maids were
+already wet-eyed, for Hugh John had "the way with him" that made all
+women want to "mother" him. Besides, he had no mother of his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Master Hugh!" they said, and sniffed as they said it.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, everybody," cried the hero, "soon be back again, you know."
+He said this very loudly to show that he did not care. He was going
+down the steps with Prissy's fingers clutched in his, and every one
+was smiling. All went merry as a marriage bell&mdash;never had been seen so
+jovial a way-going.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ugh&mdash;ugh&mdash;ugh!</i>" somebody in the hall suddenly sobbed out from among
+the white caps of the maids.</p>
+
+<p>"Go upstairs instantly, Jane. Don't disgrace yourself!" cried Janet
+Sheepshanks sharply, stamping her foot. For the sound of Jane's sudden
+and shameful collapse sent the other maids' aprons furtively up to
+their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>And Janet Sheepshanks had no apron. Not that she needed one&mdash;of course
+not.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, Hugh John&mdash;the time is up!" said his father from the side of
+the dog-cart, where (somewhat ostentatiously) he had been refastening
+straps which Mike had already done to a nicety.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Toady Lion passed with half a dozen lettuce leaves. He
+was no more excited "than nothing at all," as Prissy indignantly said
+afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Toady Lion," said Hugh John,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> "you can have my other bat
+and the white rat with the pink eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Toady Lion stood with the lettuce leaves in his arms, looking on in a
+bored sort of way. Prissy could have slapped him if her hands had not
+been otherwise employed.</p>
+
+<p>He did not say a word till his brother was perched up aloft on the
+dog-cart with his cricket bat nursed between his knees and a new
+hard-hat pulled painfully over his eyes. Then at last Toady Lion
+spoke. "Did 'oo find the funny fing behind the stable, Hugh John?"</p>
+
+<p>Before Hugh John had time to reply, the dog-cart drove away amid sharp
+explosions of grief from the white-capped throng. Jane Housemaid
+dripped sympathy from a first-floor window till the gravel was wet as
+from a smart shower. Toady Lion alone stood on the steps with his
+usual expression of bored calmness. Then he turned to Prissy.</p>
+
+<p>"Why is 'oo so moppy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you go away&mdash;you've got no heart!" said Prissy, and resumed her
+luxury of woe.</p>
+
+<p>If Toady Lion had been a Gallic boy, we should have said that he
+shrugged his shoulders. At all events, he smiled covertly to the
+lettuces as he moved off in the direction of the rabbit-hutches.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a <i>very</i> funny fing w'at was behind the stable," he said. For
+Sir Toady Lion was a humorist. And you can't be a humorist without
+being a little hard-hearted. Only the heart of a professional writer
+of pathos can be one degree harder.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap37.jpg" width="400" height="277" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">THE GOOD CONDUCT PRIZE.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap37d.jpg" width="93" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">I</span>T</b> was three years after. Sometimes three years makes a considerable
+change in grown-ups. More often it leaves them pretty much where they
+were. But with boys and girls the world begins all over again every
+two years at most. So the terms went and came, and at each vacation,
+instead of returning home, Hugh John went to London. For it so
+happened that the year he had left for school the house of Windy
+Standard was burned down almost to the ground, and Mr. Picton Smith
+took advantage of the fact to build an entirely new mansion on a
+somewhat higher site.</p>
+
+<p>The first house might have been saved had the Bounding Brothers been
+in the neighbourhood, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> indeed any active and efficient helpers. But
+the nearest engine was under the care of the Edam fire brigade, who
+upon hearing of the conflagration, with great enthusiasm ran their
+engine a quarter of a mile out of the town by hand. Then their ardour
+suddenly giving out, they sat down and had an amicable smoke on the
+roadside till the horse was brought to drag the apparatus the rest of
+the distance.</p>
+
+<p>But alas! the animal was too fat to be got between the shafts, so it
+had to be sent back and a leaner horse forwarded. Meantime the house
+of Windy Standard was blazing merrily, and when the Edam fire company
+finally arrived, the ashes were still quite hot.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>So in this way it came about that it was three long years before Hugh
+John again saw the hoary battlements of the ancient strength on the
+castle island which he and his army had attacked so boldly. There were
+great changes in the town itself. The railway had come to Edam, and
+now steamed and snorted under the very walls of the Abbey. Chimneys
+had multiplied, and the smoke columns were taller and denser. The
+rubicund Provost had gone the way of all the earth, even of all
+provosts! And the leading bailie, one Donnan, a butcher and army
+contractor, sat with something less of dignity but equal efficiency in
+his magisterial chair.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John from the station platform saw something of this with a sick
+heart, but he was sure that out in the pure air and infinite quiet of
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
+Windy Standard he would find all things the same. But a new and finer
+house shone white upon the hill. Gardens flourished on unexpected
+places with that appearance of having been recently planted,
+frequently pulled up by the roots, looked at and put back, which
+distinguishes all new gardens. Here and there white-painted vineries
+and conservatories winked ostentatiously in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>What a time Hugh John had been planning they would have! For months he
+had thought of nothing but this. Toady Lion and he would do all over
+again those famous deeds of daring he had done at the castle. Again
+they would attack the island. Other secret passages would be
+discovered. All would be as it had been&mdash;only nicer. And Cissy
+Carter&mdash;more than everything else he had looked forward to meeting
+Cissy. Prissy had seen her often, and even during the last week she
+had written to Hugh John (Prissy always did like to write letters)
+that Cissy Carter was just splendid&mdash;so much older and <i>so</i> improved.
+Cissy was now nearly seventeen, being (as before) a year and three
+months older than Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>Now the distinguished military hero had not been much troubled with
+sentiment during his school terms. Soldiers at the front never are. He
+was fully occupied in doing his lessons fairly. He got on well with
+"the fellows." He was anxious to keep up his end in the games. But,
+for all that, during these years he had sacredly kept the half of the
+crooked sixpence in his box, hidden in the end of a tie which he never
+wore. Now, however, he had looked it out, and by dint
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
+of hammering
+his imagination, he had managed to squeeze out an amount of feeling
+which quite astonished himself.</p>
+
+<p>He would be noble, generous, forbearing. He remembered how faithfully
+Cissy had loved him, and how unresponsive he had been in the past. He
+resolved that all would be very different now.</p>
+
+<p>It was.</p>
+
+<p>Then again he had brought back a record of some distinction from St.
+Salvator's. He had won the school golf championship. He possessed also
+a fine bat with an inscription on silver, telling how in the match
+with St. Aiden's, a rival college of much pretension, he had made 100
+not out, and taken eight wickets for sixty-nine.</p>
+
+<p>Besides this presentation cricket bat Hugh John had brought home only
+one other prize. This was a fitted dressing-bag of beautiful design,
+with a whole armoury of wonderful silver-plated things inside. It was
+known as the Good Conduct Prize, and was awarded every year, not by
+the masters, but by the free votes of all the boys. Prissy was
+enormously proud of this tribute paid to her brother by his
+companions. The donor was an old gentleman whose favourite hobby was
+the promotion of the finer manners of the ancient days, and the terms
+of the remit on which the award must be made were, that it should be
+given to the boy who, in the opinion of his fellow-students, was most
+distinguished for consistent good manners and polite breeding, shown
+both by his conduct to his superiors in school, and in association
+with his equals in the playing fields.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At first Hugh John had taken no interest whatever in this award,
+perhaps from a feeling that his own claims were somewhat slender&mdash;or
+thinking that the prize would merely be some "old book or other." But
+it happened that, in order to stimulate the school during the last lax
+and sluggish days of the summer term, the head-master took out the
+fittings of the dressing-bag, and set the stand containing them on his
+desk in view of all.</p>
+
+<p>There was a set of razors among them.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Hugh John's heart yearned with a mighty desire to obtain
+that prize. How splendid it would be if he could appear at home before
+Toady Lion and Cissy Carter with a moustache!</p>
+
+<p>That night he considered the matter from all points of view&mdash;and felt
+his muscles. In the morning he was down bright and early. He prowled
+about the purlieus of the playground. At the back of the gymnasium he
+met Ashwell Major.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Ashwell Major," he said, "about that Good Conduct Prize&mdash;who
+are you going to vote for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Ashwell Major, "I haven't thought much&mdash;I suppose
+Sammy Carter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, humbug!" cried our hero; "see here, Sammy will get tons of prizes
+anyway. What does he want with that one too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the other, "let's give it to little Brown. Butter
+wouldn't melt in his mouth. He's such a cake."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John felt that the time for moral suasion had come.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Smell that!" he said, suddenly extending the clenched fist with which
+a week before he had made "bran mash" of the bully of the school.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap37i.jpg" width="350" height="444" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SMELL THAT!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly Ashwell Major's nostrils inhaled the bouquet of Hugh
+John's knuckles. Ashwell Major seemed to have a dainty and
+discriminating taste in perfumes, for he did not appear to relish this
+one.</p>
+
+<p>Then Ashwell Major said that now he was going
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>
+to vote solidly for
+Hugh John Smith. He had come to the conclusion that his manners were
+quite exceptional.</p>
+
+<p>And so as the day went on, did the candidate for the fitted
+dressing-bag argue with the other boarders, waylaying them one by one
+as they came out into the playground. The day-boys followed, and each
+enjoyed the privilege of a smell at the fist of power.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>"I rejoice to announce that the Good Conduct Prize has been awarded by
+the unanimous vote of all the scholars of Saint Salvator's to Hugh
+John Picton Smith of the fifth form. I am the more pleased with this
+result, that I have never before known such complete and remarkable
+unanimity of choice in the long and distinguished history of this
+institution."</p>
+
+<p>These were the memorable words of the headmaster on the great day of
+the prize-giving. Whereupon our hero, going up to receive his
+well-earned distinction, blushed modestly and becomingly; and was
+gazed upon with wrapt wonder by the matrons and maids assembled, as
+beyond controversy the model boy of the school. And such a burst of
+cheering followed him to his seat as had never been heard within the
+walls of St. Salvator's. For quite casually Hugh John had mentioned
+that he would be on the look-out for any fellow that was a sneak and
+didn't cheer like blazes.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Moral.</span>&mdash;<i>There is no moral to this chapter.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap38.jpg" width="400" height="263" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">HUGH JOHN'S BLIGHTED HEART.</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap38d.jpg" width="96" height="100" alt="" /><b><span class="hide">O</span>N</b> the first evening at home Hugh John put on his new straw hat with
+its becoming school ribbon of brown, white and blue, for he did not
+forget that Prissy had described Cissy Carter as "such a pretty girl."
+Now pretty girls are quite nice when they are jolly. What a romp he
+would have, and even the stile would not be half bad.</p>
+
+<p>He ran down to the landing-stage, having given his old bat and third
+best fishing-rod to his brother to occupy his attention. Toady Lion
+was in an unusually adoring frame of mind, chiefly owing to the new
+bat with the silver inscription which Hugh John had brought home with
+him. If that were Toady Lion's attitude, how would it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> be with the
+enthusiastic Cissy Carter? She must be more than sixteen now. He liked
+grown-up girls, he thought, so long as they were pretty. And Cissy was
+pretty, Prissy had distinctly said so.</p>
+
+<p>The white punt bumped against the landing-stage, but the brown was
+gone. However, he could see it at the other side, swaying against the
+new pier which Mr. Davenant Carter had built opposite to that of Windy
+Standard. This was another improvement; you used to have to tie the
+boat to a bush of bog-myrtle and jump into wet squashy ground. The
+returned exile sculled over and tied up the punt to an iron ring.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a high and joyous heart he started over the moor, taking the
+well-beaten path towards Oaklands.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, through the wood as it grew thinner and more birchy, he saw
+the gleam of a white dress. Two girls were walking&mdash;no, not two girls,
+Prissy and a young lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh hang!" said Hugh John to himself, "somebody that's stopping with
+the Carters. She'll go taking up all Cissy's time, and I wanted to see
+such a lot of her."</p>
+
+<p>The white dresses and summer hats walked composedly on.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what," said Hugh John to himself, "I'll scoot through the
+woods and give them a surprise."</p>
+
+<p>And in five minutes he leaped from a bank into the road immediately
+before the girls. Prissy gave a little scream, threw up her hands, and
+then ran eagerly to him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, Hugh John," she cried, "have you really come? How could you
+frighten us like that, you bad boy!"</p>
+
+<p>And she kissed him&mdash;well, just as Prissy always did.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the young lady had turned partly away, and was pulling
+carelessly at a leaf&mdash;as if such proceedings, if not exactly
+offensive, were nevertheless highly uninteresting.</p>
+
+<p>"Cissy," called Priscilla at last, "won't you come and shake hands
+with Hugh John."</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned slowly. She was robed in white linen belted with slim
+scarlet. The dress came quite down to the tops of her dainty boots.
+She held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do&mdash;ah, Mr. Smith?" she said, with her fingers very much
+extended indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John gasped, and for a long moment found no word to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Cissy, how you've grown!" he cried at length. But observing no
+gleam of fellow-feeling in his quondam comrade's eyes, he added
+somewhat lamely, "I mean how do you do, Miss&mdash;Miss Carter?"</p>
+
+<p>There was silence after this, as the three walked on together, Prissy
+talking valiantly in order to cover the long and distressful silences.
+Hugh John's usual bubbling river of speech was frozen upon his lips.
+He had a thousand things to tell, a thousand thousand to ask. But now
+it did not seem worth while to speak of one. Why should a young lady
+like this, with tan gloves half-way to her elbows and the shiniest
+shoes, with stockings<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> of black silk striped with red, care to hear
+about his wonderful bat for the three-figure score at cricket, or the
+fact that he had won the golf medal by doing the round in ninety-five?
+He had even thought of taking some credit (girls will suck in anything
+you tell them, you know) for his place in his class, which was
+seventh. But he had intended to suppress the fact that the fifth form
+was not a very large one at St. Salvator's.</p>
+
+<p>But now he suddenly became conscious that these trivialities could not
+possibly interest a young lady who talked about the Hunt Ball in some
+such fashion as this: "He is <i>such</i> a nice partner, don't you know! He
+dances&mdash;oh, like an angel, and the floor was&mdash;well, just perfection!"</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John did not catch the name of this paragon; but he hated the
+beast anyhow. He did not know that Cissy was only bragging about her
+bat, and cracking up her score at golf.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen 'The White Lady of Avenel' at the Sobriety Theatre, Mr.
+Smith?" she said, suddenly turning to him.</p>
+
+<p>"No," grunted Hugh John, "but I've seen the Drury Lane pantomime. It
+was prime!"</p>
+
+<p>The next moment he was sorry he had said it. But the truth slipped out
+before he knew. For so little was Hugh John used to the society of
+grown-up big girls, that he did not know any better than to tell them
+the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes!" commented Cissy Carter condescendingly, "I used quite to
+like going to pantomimes when I was a child!"</p>
+
+<p>A slight and elegant young man, with a curling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> moustache turned up at
+the ends, came towards them down the bank. He had grey-and-white
+striped trousers on, a dark cutaway coat, and a smart straw hat set on
+the back of his head. He wore gloves and walked with a pretty cane.
+Hugh John loathed him on sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-evening, Courtenay," said Cissy familiarly, "this is my friend,
+Prissy Smith, of whom you have heard me speak; and this is her brother
+just home from school!"</p>
+
+<p>("What a beast! I hate him! Calls that a moustache, I daresay. Ha, ha!
+he should just see Ashwell Major's. And I can lick Ashwell Major with
+one hand!")</p>
+
+<p>"Aw," said the young man with the cane, superciliously stroking his
+maligned upper lip, "the preparatory school, I daresay&mdash;Lord, was at
+one once myself&mdash;beastly hole!"</p>
+
+<p>("I don't doubt it, you look it," was Hugh John's mental note.) Aloud
+he said, "Saint Salvator's is a ripping place. We beat Glen Fetto by
+an innings and ninety-one!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Courtenay Carling took no notice. He was talking earnestly and
+confidentially to his cousin. Hugh John had had enough of this.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, Priss," he said roughly, "let's go home."</p>
+
+<p>Prissy was nothing loath. She was just aching to get him by himself,
+so that she might begin to burn incense at his manly shrine. She had
+had stacks of it ready, and the match laid for weeks and weeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," said Cissy frigidly. Hugh John<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> took hold of her dainty
+gloved fingers as gingerly as if each had been a stinging nettle, and
+dropped them as quickly. Mr. Courtenay Carling paused in his
+conversation just long enough to say over his shoulder,
+"Ah&mdash;ta-ta&mdash;got lots of pets to run round and see, I s'pose&mdash;rabbits
+and guinea-pigs; used to keep 'em myself, you know, beastly things,
+ta-ta!"</p>
+
+<p>And with Cissy by his side he moved off, alternately twirling his
+moustache and glancing approvingly down at her. Cissy on her part
+never once looked round, but kept poking her parasol into the plants
+at the side of the road, as determinedly as if it had been the old
+pike manufactured by the exiled king O'Donowitch. Such treatment could
+not have been at all good for such a miracle of silk and lace and
+cane; but somehow its owner did not seem to mind.</p>
+
+<p>"What an awful brute!" burst out Hugh John, as soon as Prissy and he
+were clear.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how <i>can</i> you say so!" said Prissy, much surprised; "why, every
+one thinks him so nice. He has such lots of money, and is going to
+stand for Parliament&mdash;that is, if his uncle would only die, or have
+something happen to him!"</p>
+
+<p>Her brother snorted, as if to convey his contempt for "everybody's"
+opinion on such a matter; but Prissy was too happy to care for aught
+save the fact that once more her dear Hugh John was safe at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," she said lovingly, "I could not sleep last night for
+thinking of your coming! It is so splendid. There's the loveliest lot
+of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> roses being planted in the new potting house, and I've got a pearl
+necklace to show you&mdash;such a beauty&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Thus she rattled on, joyously ticking off all the things she had to
+show him. She ran a little ahead to look at him, then ran as quickly
+back to hug him. "Oh, you dear!" she exclaimed. And all the while the
+heart of the former valiant soldier sank deep and ever deeper into the
+split-new cricketing shoes he had been so proud of when he sallied
+forth to meet Cissy Carter by the stile.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," she cried presently, picking up her skirts. "I'm so excited
+I don't know what to do. I can't keep quiet. I believe I can race you
+yet, for all you're so big and have won a silver cricket bat. How I
+shall love to see it! Come on, Hugh John, I'll race you to the gipsy
+camp for a pound of candy!"</p>
+
+<p>But Hugh John did not want to race. He did not want <i>not</i> to race. He
+did not want ever to do anything any more&mdash;only to fade away and die.
+His heart was cold and dead within him. He felt that he would never
+know happiness again. But he could not bear to disappoint Prissy the
+first night. Besides, he could easily enough beat her&mdash;he was sure of
+that. So he smiled indulgently and nodded acquiescence. He had not
+told her that he had won the school mile handicap from scratch.</p>
+
+<p>They started, and Hugh John began to run scientifically, as he had
+been taught to do at school, keeping a little behind Prissy, ready to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
+spurt at the last and win by a neck. Doubtless this would have
+answered splendidly, only that Prissy ran so fast. She did not know
+anything about scientific sprinting, but she could run like the wind.
+So by the time they reached the Partan Burn she had completely
+outclassed Hugh John. With her skirts held high in her hand over she
+flew like a bird; but her brother, jumping the least bit too soon,
+went splash into the shallows, sending the water ten feet into the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Like a shot Prissy was back, and reached a hand down to the vanquished
+scientific athlete.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hugh John," she said; "I ought to have told you it
+had been widened. Don't let's race any more. I think I must have
+started too soon, and you'd have beaten me anyway. Here's the gipsy
+camp."</p>
+
+<p>The world-weary exile looked about him. He had thought that at least
+it might be some manly pleasure to see Billy Blythe once more, and try
+a round with the Bounding Brothers. After all, what did it matter
+about girls? He had a twelve-bladed knife in his pocket which he
+intended for Billy, and he knew a trick of boxing&mdash;a feint with the
+right, and then an upward blow with the left, which he knew would
+interest his friend.</p>
+
+<p>But the tents were gone. The place where they had stood was green and
+unencumbered. Only an aged crone or two moved slowly about among the
+small thatched cottages. To one of these Hugh John addressed himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, master&mdash;Billy Blythe&mdash;why, he be 'listed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> for a sodger&mdash;a
+corp'ral they say he be, and may be sergeant by this time, shouldn't
+wonder. Eh, dearie, and the Boundin' Brothers&mdash;oh! ye mean the
+joompin' lads. They're off wi' a circus in Ireland. Nowt left but me
+and my owd mon! Thank ye, sir, you be a gentleman born, as anybody can
+see without the crossin' o' the hand."</p>
+
+<p>Sadly Hugh John moved away, a still more blighted being. He left
+Prissy at the white lodge-gate in order that she might go home to meet
+Mr. Picton Smith on his return from the county town, where he had been
+judging the horses at an agricultural show. He would take a walk
+through the town, he said to himself, and perhaps he might meet some
+of his old enemies. He felt that above everything he would enjoy a
+sharp tussle. After all what save valour was worth living for? Wait
+till he was a soldier, and came back in uniform with a sword by his
+side and the scar of a wound on his forehead&mdash;would Cissy Carter
+despise him then? He would show her! In the meantime he had learned
+certain tricks of fence which he would rather like to prove on the
+countenances of his former foes.</p>
+
+<p>So with renewed hope in his heart he took his way through the town of
+Edam. The lamps were just being lighted, and Hugh John lounged along
+through the early dusk with his hands in his pockets, looking out for
+a cause of offence. Presently he came upon a brilliantly lighted
+building, into which young men and women were entering singly and in
+pairs.</p>
+
+<p>A hanging lamp shone down upon a noticeboard.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> He had nothing better
+to do. He stopped and read&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="topbox">
+<p class="h4"><big>Edam Mutual Improvement Society.</big><br />
+<i>SEASON</i> 18&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+<i>Hon. President.</i>&mdash;Rev. Mr. <span class="smcap">Burnham</span>.<br />
+<i>Hon. Vice-President.</i>&mdash;Mr. N. <span class="smcap">Donnan</span>.<br />
+<i>Hon. Sec. and Treasurer.</i>&mdash;Mr. <span class="smcap">Nathaniel Cuthbertson</span>.<br />
+<br />
+DEBATE TO-NIGHT.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Subject.</i>&mdash;"Is the Pen mightier than the Sword?"<br />
+<i>Affirmative.</i>&mdash;Mr. N. <span class="smcap">Donnan</span>.<br />
+<i>Negative.</i>&mdash;Mr. <span class="smcap">Burnham</span>.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">All are Cordially Invited</span>.<br />
+<i>Bring your Hymn-books.</i>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Hugh John did not accept the invitation, perhaps because he had no
+hymn-book. He only waited outside to hear Mr. N. Donnan's opening
+sentence. It ran thus: "All ages of the world's history have borne
+testimony to the fact that peace is preferable to war, right to might,
+and the sweet still voice of Reason to the savage compulsions of
+brutal Force."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hang!" ejaculated Hugh John, doubling his fist; "did you ever
+hear such rot? I wish I could jolly well fetch Nipper Donnan one on
+the nob!"</p>
+
+<p>And he sauntered on till he came to the burying-ground of Edam's
+ancient abbey. He wandered aimlessly up the short avenue, stood at the
+gate a while, then kicked it open and went in. He clambered about
+among the graves, stumbling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> over the grassy mounds till he came to
+the tombs of his ancestors. At least they were not quite his
+ancestors, but the principle was the same. "There's nothing exclusive
+about me. I'll adopt them," said Hugh John to himself, as many another
+distinguished person had done before him. They were in fact the tombs
+of the Lorraines, the ancient possessors and original architects of
+the Castle of Windy Standard, which he had spilt his best blood to
+defend. Well, it was to attack. But no matter.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down and looked at the defaced and battered tombs in silence.
+Mighty thoughts coursed through his brain. His heart was filled full
+to the brim with the sadness of mortality. Tears of hopeless
+resignation stood in his eyes. It was the end, the solemn end of all.
+Soon he, too, like them, would be lying low and quiet. He began to be
+conscious of a general fatal weakness of the system, a hollowness of
+the chest (or stomach), which showed that the end was near.</p>
+
+<p>Ah, they would be sorry then&mdash;<i>she</i> would be sorry! And after morning
+service in church, they would come and stand by his grave and
+say&mdash;<i>she</i> would say, "He was young, but he lived nobly, though, alas!
+there was none to appreciate him. Ah, would that he were again alive!"
+Then they (she) would weep, yes, weep bitterly, and fling themselves
+(herself) upon the cold, cold ground. But all in vain. He (Hugh John
+Picton Smith, late hero) would lie still in death under that green sod
+and never say a word. No, not even if he could. Like Brer Fox, he
+would lie low. At<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> this point Hugh John was so moved that he put his
+face down into his hands and sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>A heavy clod of earth whizzed through the air and impacted itself with
+a thud upon the mourner's cheek, filling his ear with mud and sand,
+and informing him at the same instant that it carried a stone
+concealed somewhere about its person.</p>
+
+<p>For though Nipper Donnan was now Vice-President of a Mutual
+Improvement Association, and at that moment spreading himself in a
+peroration upon the advantages of universal goody-goodiness, he had,
+happily for society and Hugh John, left exceedingly capable
+successors. The eternal Smoutchy was still very much alive, and still
+an amateur of clods in the town of Edam.</p>
+
+<p>That sod worked a complete and sudden cure in Hugh John.</p>
+
+<p>He rose like a shot. Few and short were the prayers he said, but what
+these petitions lacked in length they made up for in fervency. He
+pursued his assailant down the Mill Brae, clamoured after him round
+the Town-yards, finally cornered him at the Spital Port, punched his
+head soundly&mdash;and felt better.</p>
+
+<p>So that night the unfortunate young martyr to the flouts and scorns of
+love, instead of occupying a clay-cold bier with his (adopted)
+ancestors in Edam Abbey graveyard, ate an excellent supper in the new
+house of Windy Standard, with three helpings of round-of-beef and
+vegetables to match. Then with an empty heart, but a full stomach, he
+betook himself upstairs to his room, where presently Toady Lion came
+to worship, and Prissy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> dropped in to see that all was well. She had
+spread prettily worked covers of pink silk over his brushes and combs,
+an arrangement which the hero contemplated with disgust.</p>
+
+<p>He seized them, gathered them into a knot, and flung them into a
+corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hugh John!" cried Prissy, "how could you? And they took such a
+long time to do!"</p>
+
+<p>And there were the premonitions of April showers in the sensitive
+barometer of Priscilla's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The brother was touched&mdash;as much, that is, as it is in the nature of a
+brother to be. But in the interests of discipline he could not give
+way too completely.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Prissy," he said, "it was no end good of you. But really,
+you know, a fellow couldn't be expected to put up with these things.
+Why, they'd stick in your nails and tangle up all your traps so that
+you'd wish you were dead ten times a day, or else they'd make you say
+'Hang!' and things."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Prissy, with sweetest resignation, "then I will take
+them for myself, but I did think you would have liked them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you, Priss&mdash;you are a good sort!" said Hugh John, patting his
+sister on the cheek.</p>
+
+<p>His sister felt that after such a demonstration of affection from him
+there was little left to live for.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, you dear," she said; "I'll wake you in the morning, and
+have your bath ready for you at eight."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good old girl!" said Hugh John tolerantly, and went to bed, glad that
+he had been so nice to Prissy about the brush-covers. Such a little
+makes a girl happy, you know.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps, all things being considered, it was for the good of our
+hero's soul at this time that Cissy Carter was on hand to take some of
+the conceit out of him.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap38i.jpg" width="150" height="157" alt="" />
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap39.jpg" width="400" height="312" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
+
+<p class="h3">"GIRLS ARE FUNNY THINGS."</p>
+
+<p><img class="dropimg" src="images/chap39d.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
+<b><span class="hide">G</span>IRLS</b> are funny things" was Hugh John's favourite maxim; and he
+forthwith proceeded to prove that boys are too, by making a point of
+seeing Cissy Carter several times a week during his entire vacation.
+Yet he was unhappy as often as he went to Oaklands, and only more
+unhappy when he stayed away. On the whole, Cissy was much less frigid
+than on that first memorable evening. But she never thawed entirely,
+nor could Hugh John discover the least trace of the hair-brained
+madcap of ancient days for whom his whole soul longed, in the
+charmingly attired young lady whose talk and appearance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> were so much
+beyond her years. But he shaved three or four times a day with his new
+razors, sneaking hot water on the sly in order to catch up.</p>
+
+<p>The last time he could hope to see her before going back to school for
+his final term, was on the evening of a day when Hugh John had
+successfully captained a team of schoolboys and visitors from the
+surrounding country-houses against the best eleven which Edam could
+produce. Cissy Carter had looked on with Mr. Courtenay Carling by her
+side, while Captain (once General Napoleon) Smith made seventy-seven,
+and carried out his still virgin bat amid the cheers of the
+spectators, after having beaten the Edamites by four wickets, and with
+only six minutes to spare in order to save the draw.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well played!" cried Mr. Carling patronisingly, as Hugh John came
+up, modestly swinging his bat as if he did as much every day of his
+life; "I remember when I was at the 'Varsity&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Hugh John turned away without waiting to hear what happened to Mr.
+Carling at the 'Varsity which he had honoured with his presence. It
+chanced, however, that at that moment the young gentleman with the
+moustache saw on the other side of the enclosure a lady of more mature
+charms than those of his present companion, whose father also had a
+great deal of influence&mdash;don't you know?&mdash;in the county. So in a
+little while he excused himself and went over to talk with his new
+friend in her carriage, afterwards driving home with her to "a quiet
+family dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Thus Cissy was left to return alone with Sammy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> and she gathered up
+her sunshade and gloves with an air of calm and surprising dignity.
+Hugh John had meant to bid her an equally cool good night and stroll
+off with the worshipful Toady Lion&mdash;who that day had kept wickets
+"like a jolly little brick" (as his brother was good enough to say),
+besides making a useful six before being run out. But somehow, when
+the hero of the day went to say good-bye, he could not quite carry out
+his programme, and found himself, against his will, offering in due
+form to "see Miss Carter home."</p>
+
+<p>Which shows that Hugh John, like his moustache, was growing up very
+rapidly indeed, and learning how to adapt himself to circumstances. He
+wondered what Ashwell Major would say if he knew. It would make him
+sick, Hugh John thought; but after all, what was a fellow to do?</p>
+
+<p>For the first mile they talked freely about the match, and Cissy
+complimented him on his scoring. Then there fell a silence and
+constraint upon them. They were approaching the historic stile. Hugh
+John nerved himself for a daring venture.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember what you once made me say here, Cissy?" he said. Miss
+Carter turned upon him a perfectly well-bred stare of blankest
+ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "I don't remember ever being here with you before."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, no humbug, Cissy&mdash;you could remember very well if you
+wanted to," said Hugh John roughly. As he would have described it
+himself, "his monkey was getting up. Cissy had better look out."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He took from his ticket-pocket the piece of the crooked sixpence,
+which he had kept for more than three years in his schoolbox. "You
+don't remember that either, I suppose?" he said with grave irony.</p>
+
+<p>Cissy looked at the broken coin calmly&mdash;she would have given a great
+deal if she had had a pincenez or a quizzing-glass to put up at that
+point. But she did her best without either. Strangely, however, Hugh
+John was not even irritated.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said at last, "it looks like half of a sixpence which
+somebody has stepped upon. How quaint! Did you find it, or did some
+one give it to you?"</p>
+
+<p>They were at the stile now, and Hugh John helped Cissy over. The
+grown-up swing of her skirt as she tripped down was masterly. It
+looked so natural. On the other side they both stopped, faced about,
+and set their elbows on the top almost as they had done three or four
+years ago when&mdash;but so much had happened since then.</p>
+
+<p>With even more serenity Hugh John took a small purse out of his
+pocket. It was exceedingly dusty, as well it might be, for he had
+picked it out from underneath the specially constructed grandstand at
+the cricket ground. He opened it quietly, in spite of the unladylike
+snatch which Cissy made as soon as she recognised it, dropping her
+youngladyish hauteur in an instant. Hugh John held the dainty purse
+high up out of her reach, and extracted from an inner compartment a
+small piece of silver.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap39i1.jpg" width="400" height="560" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;IT LOOKS LIKE HALF OF A SIXPENCE WHICH SOMEBODY HAS STEPPED UPON. HOW QUAINT!&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Give it back to me this moment," cried Cissy, who had lost all her
+reserve, and suddenly grown whole years younger. "I didn't think any
+one in the world could be so mean. But I might have known. Do you
+hear&mdash;give it back to me, Hugh John."</p>
+
+<p>With the utmost deliberation he snapped the catch and handed her the
+purse. The bit of silver he fitted carefully to the first piece he had
+taken from his ticket-pocket and held them up. They were the reunited
+halves of the same crooked sixpence.</p>
+
+<p>Then he looked at Cissy with some of her own former calmness.</p>
+
+<p>He even offered her the second fragment of silver, whereupon with a
+sudden petulant gesture she struck his hand up, and her own half of
+the crooked sixpence flew into the air, flashed once in the rays of
+the setting sun, and fell in the middle of the path.</p>
+
+<p>Hugh John stood in front of her a moment silent. Then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Cissy, you are a regular little fraud!"</p>
+
+<p>And with that he suddenly caught the girl in his arms, kissed her
+once, twice, thrice&mdash;and then sprang over the stile, and down towards
+the river almost as swiftly as Prissy herself. The girl stood a moment
+speechless with surprise and indignation. Then the tears leaped to her
+eyes, and she stamped her foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I hate you, I despise you!" she cried, putting all her injured
+pride and anger into the indignant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> ring of her voice. "I'll never
+speak to you again&mdash;not as long as I live, Hugh John Smith!"</p>
+
+<p>And she turned away homeward, holding her head very high in the air.
+She seemed to be biting her lips to keep back the tears which
+threatened to overflow her cheeks. But just as she was leaving the
+stile, curiously enough she cast sharply over her shoulder and all
+round her the quick shy look of a startled fawn&mdash;and stooped to the
+path. The next moment the bit of silver which had sparkled there was
+gone, and Cissy Carter, with eyes still moist, but with the sweetest
+and most wistful smile playing upon her face, was tripping homeward to
+Oaklands to the tune of "The Girl I left behind me," which she liked
+to whistle softly when she was sure no one was listening.</p>
+
+<p>And at the end of every verse she gave a little skip, as if her heart
+were light within her.</p>
+
+<p>Girls are funny things.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/chap39i2.jpg" width="400" height="336" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="trnote">
+<p class="h4">Transcriber's note:</p>
+
+<p>Inconsistent and archaic spelling, syntax, and punctuation retained.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Surprising Adventures of Sir Toady
+Lion With Those of General Napoleon Smith, by S. R. Crockett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR TOADY LION ***
+
+***** This file should be named 39340-h.htm or 39340-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/3/4/39340/
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap01.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap01.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b08c989
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap01.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap01d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap01d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d95f0c9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap01d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap02.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap02.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e65a3a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap02.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap02d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap02d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4756295
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap02d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap02i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap02i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28450a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap02i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap02i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap02i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd0a2e9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap02i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap03.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap03.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56066dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap03.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap03d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap03d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6209f0a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap03d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap03i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap03i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29ec145
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap03i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap04.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap04.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..64c2c5b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap04.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap04d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap04d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe68798
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap04d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap05.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap05.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2415dde
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap05.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap05d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap05d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4d8baf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap05d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap05i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap05i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..647450b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap05i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap06.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap06.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8f89146
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap06.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap06d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap06d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e15e5f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap06d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap07.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap07.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1df8720
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap07.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap07d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap07d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a6d0240
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap07d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap07i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap07i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8607e1c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap07i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap08.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap08.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9d46f84
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap08.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap08d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap08d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..794104d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap08d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap09.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap09.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c19948b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap09.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap09d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap09d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9088980
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap09d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap10.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap10.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6cf20c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap10.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap10d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap10d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8d593ba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap10d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap10i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap10i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18a0562
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap10i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap11.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap11.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c055fe2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap11.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap11d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap11d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..37ed10d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap11d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap11i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap11i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6245c46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap11i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap12.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap12.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6106fbc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap12.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap12d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap12d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cf85cb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap12d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap12i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap12i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..91ec991
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap12i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap12i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap12i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8055ff8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap12i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap12i3.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap12i3.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e8ae8d2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap12i3.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap13.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap13.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a3dfedf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap13.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap13d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap13d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a49c4f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap13d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap13i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap13i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2efca0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap13i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap14.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap14.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aca507e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap14.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap14d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap14d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00165f3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap14d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap14i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap14i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..996d1cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap14i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap15.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap15.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f773f66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap15.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap15d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap15d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dba31fe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap15d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap15i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap15i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0754716
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap15i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap15i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap15i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bebd242
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap15i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap16.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap16.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5cd7e07
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap16.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap16d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap16d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4b96e4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap16d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap16i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap16i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15daaee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap16i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap16i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap16i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ce0b142
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap16i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap17.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap17.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f2a43d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap17.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap17d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap17d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13031e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap17d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap17i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap17i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa4f9cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap17i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap17i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap17i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..99f9f36
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap17i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap18.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap18.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c977c35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap18.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap18d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap18d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1b9cf7a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap18d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap18i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap18i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18a1e05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap18i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap18i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap18i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8b22a9d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap18i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap19.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap19.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13d6f5b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap19.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap19d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap19d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..12b697e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap19d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap20.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap20.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1079cf8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap20.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap20d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap20d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..521f235
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap20d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap20i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap20i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7b37df9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap20i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap21.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap21.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..901334e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap21.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap21d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap21d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff10723
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap21d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap21i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap21i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b89ef4c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap21i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap22.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap22.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3811477
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap22.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap22d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap22d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb5240b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap22d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap22i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap22i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..02c180f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap22i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap23.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap23.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..293ae8a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap23.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap23d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap23d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..71a311c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap23d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap23i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap23i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..745d89f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap23i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap24.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap24.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b59865e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap24.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap24d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap24d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..793b9cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap24d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap24i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap24i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c826349
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap24i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap24i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap24i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bdf26a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap24i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap25.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap25.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..894d1eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap25.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap25d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap25d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..61d3089
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap25d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap25i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap25i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24bbad3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap25i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap25i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap25i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f061236
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap25i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap26.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap26.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd7570d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap26.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap26d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap26d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ea17d8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap26d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap26i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap26i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13c4cc6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap26i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap27.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap27.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6bce76e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap27.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap27d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap27d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cc849b7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap27d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap27i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap27i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d2e15a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap27i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap28.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap28.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..069e3fd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap28.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap28d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap28d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2c90626
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap28d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap28i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap28i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5aad34
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap28i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap28i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap28i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..97ed522
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap28i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap29.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap29.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65cdd7f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap29.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap29d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap29d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c086b40
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap29d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap29i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap29i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..196214b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap29i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap30.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap30.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..144d162
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap30.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap30d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap30d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3316ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap30d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap30i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap30i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f098c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap30i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap30i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap30i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6cb8dc0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap30i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap31.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap31.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0751079
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap31.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap31d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap31d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..712b4c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap31d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap31i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap31i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..207d030
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap31i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap31i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap31i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e7c9c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap31i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap31i3.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap31i3.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..94dae48
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap31i3.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap32.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap32.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd9d933
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap32.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap32d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap32d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d691b0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap32d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap33.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap33.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..573581a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap33.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap33d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap33d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2656b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap33d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap33i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap33i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f93a860
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap33i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap34.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap34.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3419369
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap34.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap34d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap34d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d376687
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap34d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap34i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap34i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae13bab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap34i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap34i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap34i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..282b488
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap34i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap35.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap35.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..237e776
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap35.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap35d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap35d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e1c96fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap35d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap35i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap35i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4b373e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap35i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap36.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap36.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..243bb35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap36.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap36d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap36d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a999255
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap36d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap36i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap36i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..733635e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap36i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap37.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap37.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd39855
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap37.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap37d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap37d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d74d675
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap37d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap37i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap37i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a722937
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap37i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap38.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap38.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ef8bd4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap38.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap38d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap38d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4274c5f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap38d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap38i.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap38i.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f086105
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap38i.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap39.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap39.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..67dcae5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap39.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap39d.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap39d.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33fe8c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap39d.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap39i1.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap39i1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9b75c29
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap39i1.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/chap39i2.jpg b/39340-h/images/chap39i2.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7c693f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/chap39i2.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/contents.jpg b/39340-h/images/contents.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bee2f22
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/contents.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/frontis.jpg b/39340-h/images/frontis.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..526349a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/frontis.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/goodboys.jpg b/39340-h/images/goodboys.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03cee80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/goodboys.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/illustration.jpg b/39340-h/images/illustration.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88a01e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/illustration.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/39340-h/images/titlepage.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bc370fb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/titlepage.jpg
diff --git a/39340-h/images/verso.jpg b/39340-h/images/verso.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7ea424
--- /dev/null
+++ b/39340-h/images/verso.jpg
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 20:12:30 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 20:12:30 -0700
commit	81724020ddc899a4e44dbd5fa27f366a7d9d662e (patch)
tree	224a927772249debf858627646378b080db24c9a /39340-h