Chapter 92
[Ill.u.s.tration: JOB DISCHARGED BY SIR SCIPIO.]
"I say, I ha' got a dead mun in the wagon."
"A dead man?" cried Job.
"Ay; picked him up i' the muddle o' the road. The bay cob wor standin'
loike a lamb beside um. I shall take um to the 'Barley Mow' yonder." (An inn.)
[Ill.u.s.tration: "BLEED HIM."]
"But stop, for G.o.d's sake," exclaimed Job, jumping upon the wagon.
Instantly he recognized the features of Sir Scipio. Struck by apoplexy, he had fallen from his horse. Instantly Job tore off Sir Scipio's coat, rolled up his sleeves, bound the arm, and produced a razor.
"Ha! what wilt ye do, mun?" cried the wagoner, seeing the razor.
"Bleed him," replied Job, with exquisite composure; "I fear his heart is stopped."
"Loikely. I do think it be Grinders, the lawyer. Cut um deep, deep;" and the fellow opened wide his eyes to see if the lawyer had red blood or j.a.pan ink in his veins. "Cut um deep; though if it be old Grinders, by what I hear, it be a shame to disturb him, ony way," said the wagoner.
"Grinders! Pshaw! It's Sir Scipio Manikin."
"Wounds!" roared the scared wagoner. "No, man, no! Don't meddle wi' such gentry folks in my wagon." So saying, he sought to stay the hand of the bleeder at the moment he was applying the sharp blade of the razor to the bared arm, but only succeeded in driving the instrument deep into the limb. Job turned pale. The wagoner groaned and trembled.
"We shall be hanged for this job--hanged, hanged!"
"Providentially," as the knight afterwards affirmed, the landlord of the "Barley Mow," in chastising his wife, had broken his leg, and had called in Dr. Saffron, who, now returning, came upon the wagon containing the bulky body of Sir Scipio, mangled and bleeding.
The apoplectic squire began to return to dim consciousness, and beholding Job, with a razor between his teeth, standing over him, timing his pulse, he gave an involuntary shudder, particularly as he now recalled the late scene, which had terminated in his kicking Job penniless into the highway.
Dr. Saffron took the wounded arm, looked at Job, and said,--
"Is this your doings?"
Job
"Bleeding!" repeated the doctor, fiercely; "I call it capital carving."
Then turning to the wagoner, he said, "And you found Sir Scipio lying in the road?"
"Ay, sir; rolled up like a hedge pig," replied the wagoner.
Job wiped his razor, and slipped silently away.
_Scene 2._--Job, half starved and half dead from the fatigues of his long walk, finds his way into an old woman's hut, which unfortunately is the rendezvous of three highwaymen.
"Moll, the stool," said one of the men.
The stool ordered was thrown towards Job, who sank resignedly upon it.
"What's o'clock?" asked Bats, one of the robbers.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A BORROWED WATCH.]
Job leaped from the stool in amazement, clapped his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and drew forth a splendid gold watch, the late property of Sir Scipio. Job had merely borrowed it to time the pulse of the apoplectic knight, and forgot to return it. The eyes of the highwayman were fixed leeringly upon the chronometer. They gave no heed to the embarra.s.sment of the possessor.
"I say, friend, time must be worth something to you to score it by such a watch."
"It isn't mine," cried Job, the perspiration starting from every pore of his body.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the three at this unnecessary information.
"A mistake; I got it in the oddest way."
"Ha, ha, ha!" again roared his hearers in chorus.
"O Lord! I shall be hanged for this," cried Job.
"In course you will," said Mortlake, comfortingly.
Job now hastily felt in his other pockets to see if he unwittingly possessed any other property not his own, when he pulled out a large handkerchief well saturated with Sir Scipio's blood.
Mortlake gave an expressive cluck. Bats uttered a low, accusing whistle.
"What! he was game--was he? Well, it is all over now; tell us how it happened, and what you did with the body," said the third.
In vain Job persisted in the truth. He was only laughed at....
"Moll, the gin." Such a gamy highwayman as Job presented evidence of being deserves to be treated! Let us see in the next scene _how_ he was treated.
_Scene 3._--Job was drank dead drunk. Stripped of not only Sir Manikin's watch and chain, but of everything save one brief garment, and under cover of night deposited in an adjoining meadow.
"Job Pippins slept."
"Job Pippins awoke."
An insect ticked its little note in Job's ear.
"The watch!" cried the bewildered Job, springing to his feet and gaspingly applying his hands to his flesh.
Who can depict his utter amazement when he had become convinced of his own ident.i.ty, and found himself standing out in the broad world, reduced to the brief wardrobe, which is summed up in the one single word--"s.h.i.+RT"?
Hatless, shoeless, hoseless, he stood upon the gra.s.s, the bold zephyrs playing with his garment--a b.l.o.o.d.y, tattered flag of terrible distress.
Job looked timidly about. He resolved, and he re-resolved. Should he turn back to the house from whence he had been so ruthlessly ejected? Should he hide behind the hedge and solicit the help of some male pa.s.ser? Who would put faith in a man with no recommendation, and possessing such a small wardrobe? O, indecision! how many better men have gone to ruin because of thee!
[Ill.u.s.tration: JOB'S DECISION.]