"Well, you have done it now, master," he said. "I shouldn't have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that."

"Oh!" groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. "Help me, please! I think there's something broke!"

"Not there," said the sergeant cheerily. "You wouldn't break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn't my men's fault."

"No, of course not," said Waller. "They couldn't help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking."

Meanwhile Gusset was "set upon his pins," again, as the sergeant expressed it--in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.

"Well, this is all waste of time, my lads," said the sergeant, pulling himself together. "I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose."

"You'll get no more of my ladders to break," said the gardener, wagging his head, "in the King's name or out of the King's name."

"What!" cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.

"Well, how can you," said the gardener, "when there aren't none?

There's two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn't catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try."

"The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant," came from the kitchen door at that moment.

"Thank you, ma'am," said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.

"Well, master," he said, "my lads aren't much of angels, and they can't fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven't had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.--Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!" and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE SEARCH RELINQUISHED.

The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of Brackendene.

The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party, he had a right to partake of the refreshments.

But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump, pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his way.

"Well?" she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce--which was a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset's was one of those countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little comic when temper had the sway.

"No, not well, Martha," said the constable plaintively; "but I don't think I am very much hurt."

"Serve you right if you were," said the cook, "coming here like this when master's out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make people believe what a great person you are! They don't know you like I do. Well, what do you want?"

"The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged myself here to have mine."

"Dragged? Rolled, you mean!" cried his sister. "You grow more and more like a tub every day."

"But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear," said the constable, with an attempt at a smile.

"Not in my kitchen if they do," said Martha, with a snort; "and Master Waller never meant _you_ to come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I am put out I speak my mind, and I'm put out now so there!"

Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.

That lunch was rather prolonged, and, as he listened, Waller, with his hands in his pockets, marched up and down the hall, frowning and thinking till he recalled the breaking of the ladder and the aspect of the village constable, when his frown faded away as if by magic, and, throwing himself into one of the big old oak hall chairs, he rolled about in it, laughing silently till he cried.

At last a sharp order rang out in the kitchen, and though he could not see, Waller heard the men spring to their feet and march out into the yard, where he followed quickly, in time to see them take their piled muskets, while Joe Hanson, the gardener, who had been playing his part at the lunch with greater zeal than he bestowed upon his mowing or digging, busied himself with picking up the broken ladder, grinning across at Tony Gusset the while.

Directly after there were a few parting words pa.s.sing between Waller and the sergeant, the men joining in giving their young host a cheer, which struck very emptily upon Gusset's ear, and made him mutter vows about being even some day, as he scuffled across to get close up to the soldiers and march with them back to the village.

And now that all danger seemed to be over, Waller's spirits rose, and, in company with the gardener, he walked with the search-party along the drive, out at the gate, and along the road to the edge of the Squire's estate, keeping up a running fire the while to hara.s.s the rear of the column, which was formed by Tony Gusset, the actual rearguard being composed of the sergeant, who fell back with the pair from the Manor to march along silently and solemnly, though thoroughly enjoying the impromptu fun.

The gardener commenced it by calling out in an excited tone, as if he had suddenly recalled something:

"Here, hi! Gusset!"

"Yes," said the man, stopping, to turn round his great full-moon face.

"Why, you didn't take the soldiers to look at the cuc.u.mber-frames.

Bound to say there's one of them there spies lying snug under the leaves."

"Ugh!" grunted the constable angrily; and he turned again and went on.

"I say, don't be in such a hurry; there's the sea-kale pots, too."

"Ah, to be sure!" cried Waller, loud enough for the constable to hear.

"Gusset must be right. Better come back and have another look. He may be in one of the sties disguised as a pig."

Just then the road was leading them along by the bank of a fine old hammer pond, a great black-looking pool surrounded by a dense growth of alders and water-loving shrubs, while sedge, reed, and rush flourished wonderfully, and formed a mazy home for the abundant moorhens and coots.

As the party moved onward to the village there was a sudden rush and a splash, and Waller called upon the sergeant to stop.

"Here's a likely place, sergeant," he said.

"Nonsense!" said the man, "I know what that splash was. It was a big pike."

"It might have been," said the gardener, grinning, "but it's more like the sort of splash a French spy would make when he saw soldiers' scarlet jackets. Why don't you make old Waxy dive in and have a hunt all round under the bushes?"

"No, don't, sergeant," put in Waller. "It's ten feet deep in some places."

"Pooh! What does that matter?" cried the gardener, who, like the boy, spoke loud enough for the constable to hear. "He wouldn't mind. He'd sink to the bottom and walk about safely all over the mud."

"That he wouldn't," cried Waller. "He'd shoot up to the top again like a cork."

And then the banter ceased, for the sergeant's men pa.s.sed through the swing gate, and to Waller's great relief he was able to make his way back to the hall, very silent now as he went over the day's proceedings, and thought of the chances of the men coming back to make a fresh search, while the gardener kept on harping metaphorically upon the broken ladder, and what "master would say" when he came back.

At last the boy got rid of him, and made his way into the house, where he had a hard fight to curb his inclinations to rush up at once to his room.

This desire he kept down till he had made sure that the servants were at their dinner, and then, after a cautious saunter about the grounds to convince himself that the gardener had gone to his cottage, Waller hurried up, and paused breathlessly at the door of his den, which he opened and closed, and then locked himself in.

The next minute he had crept out of the window, to hold on by the sill and feel with his feet amongst the ivy for the stone gutter which ran all along the front of the house. Upon this, half hidden by the ivy, he proceeded cautiously to his right, where a deep gully between two gables went right across the house, with the ivy positively rioting and pretty well filling it up with long strands and great berry-bearing clumps.