Syd Belton

"But they won't," said Pan, sagely enough. "'Tarn't likely at this time o' night; I wish we could find a haystack."

Pan's wish did not obtain fulfilment, and the two lads tramped on along the lonely road for quite a couple of hours longer, when hunger began to combine with weariness; and these two at last made themselves so plainly heard, that Sydney came to a full stop.

"Yes?" said Pan.

"I did not speak, I was only thinking," said Sydney, drearily.

"What were you thinking, Master Syd?"

"That all this is very stupid, and that we should be ever so much more comfortable in bed."

Pan sighed.

"Oh, I dunno," he said. "I shouldn't, on'y my legs ache ever so."

"We ought to have brought a lot of cold meat and bread with us, Pan."

"Ah! wouldn't it be good now!"

"How long do you think it will be before morning, so that we can get to a town, and buy some bread and milk?"

"I dunno, Master Syd. It can't be late yet, and it's ever so far to a town this way, 'cause it's all forest for miles and miles."

They were tramping on again now, but in a more irregular way. There was none of the vigorous pace for pace that had marked the beginning of their flight, and as the road grew more rough their steps began to err, and sometimes one, sometimes the other was a little in advance.

"Don't you wish you were back in your bed, Pan?" said Sydney at last.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because father would be standing there with the rope's-end."

This was so much to the point that Sydney did not try to pursue that vein of conversation, and

"Wish you were back in your bed, Master Syd?"

"No," said the latter sharply.

"Course you don't; 'cause your uncle would be one side o' the bed and the captain the other, and that would be worse than being here, wouldn't it?"

No answer.

"You'd ketch it, wouldn't you, Master Syd?"

Still no answer; and Pan plodded on in silence, wondering whether his young master would always be so quiet and strange.

"What's that?" said Sydney suddenly.

"Rabbud."

The two lads stood listening to the rapid run of feet through the rustling fern, and then tramped on again through the darkness.

Sydney was having a hard fight the greater part of the time with his thoughts, and try how he would, they seemed to be too much for him. In fact, so great a hold did they get at last, that somewhere about three o'clock he stopped short; but Pan went on with his head down till his name was sharply p.r.o.nounced, when he stopped short with a start.

"Why, I believe you were asleep."

"Was I, Master Syd?" said the boy, blankly looking about him. "I s'pose 'twas because I thought father was making me walk round and round the garden all night for not cleaning the boots."

"Turn round--this way."

"Yes, Master Syd. Where are we going now?"

"Back again."

"Back--again?"

"Yes, to the Heronry."

"What for, sir?"

"Because I've been an idiot."

"But if we go back we shall be punished, Master Syd."

"Of course we shall. But if we go on we shall be punis.h.i.+ng ourselves.

Oh," cried Sydney, in a voice full of rage against himself, "how could I have been such a donkey!"

"It warn't my fault," said Pan, dolefully. "Father was after me with the rope's-end. I was obliged to go. Let's try another way, Master Syd."

"There is no other way," cried the boy pa.s.sionately. "There's only one way for us to go, and that's straight back home."

"Oh, there's lots of other ways, Master Syd."

"No, there are not. There's only one that we can tread."

"Which way's that, sir?"

"I told you--home."

"But I dursen't go back, Master Syd; I dursen't, indeed."

"Yes, you dare; and you shall too."

"Well, not till it's light, Master Syd. It do hurt so in the dark, and you have no chance."

But Syd did not answer, only gave an involuntary s.h.i.+ver, and walked slowly back over the ground they had covered during the night.