"I? No," said Waller. "Oh, surely not shot! But in this quiet country place at the Manor we hear so little of what is going on. I can't help being so ignorant about all these things."

"You are all the happier, perhaps," said the lad sadly.

"Oh, I don't know," said Waller. "I am afraid I don't know much about what's going on. I am fond of being out here in the woods. It is holiday-time now my father's out. But I say," he continued, with a frank laugh, "isn't it rather funny that you and I should be talking together like this, after--you know--such a little while ago?"

"Yes, I suppose so; but I thought you were one of the enemy coming to take me."

"Yes," said Waller; "and I don't know what I thought about you when I was looking down the barrel of that pistol."

"I--I beg your pardon," faltered the lad. "I was half-mad."

"Quite mad, I think," said Waller to himself. Then aloud, "But, I say, why were you here?"

"I was hiding; trying to get down to the coast and make my way back to France. The soldiers have been hunting me for days, but I have escaped so far."

"To get back to France?" said Waller. "But are you not English?"

"Yes, of course. Don't I speak like an Englishman?"

"Well, there is a little something queer about it," said Waller--"a sort of accent."

"I said English," continued the other, "but my family, the Boynes, are of Irish descent, and staunch followers of the Stuarts."

"Yes; but that's all over now, you know," said Waller. "Don't you think you had better give all that up and go back?"

"I was trying to go back," said the lad despairingly.

"Or stop here."

"You talk like a follower of the Pretender," said the lad bitterly.

"That I don't!" cried Waller indignantly. "My father is a magistrate, and a staunch supporter of King George. But there, I didn't mean to talk like that," he cried, as he noted the change that came over his companion's face. "Here, I say, never mind about politics. You look-- well, very ill. Hadn't you better go home?"

"Go home! How? Separated from my friends, who perhaps by now are dead!" The words came with a sob, "Go! How? Hunted from place to place like a wolf!" He tried to rise, but sank back. "Ill? Yes," he groaned; "deadly faint. You don't know what I have suffered. I am starving."

"How long have you been here?" said Waller, whose sympathies were growing more and more strong in favour of his prisoner.

"I don't know. Days."

"But why were you starving?" said Waller half-indignantly.

"Why should I not be?" said the boy bitterly. "Alone in these wilds."

"Well," cried Waller. "I shouldn't have starved if I had been like you.

I should have liked it, and had rather a jolly time," and he gazed hard at the delicate-looking lad, whose very aspect, in spite of his disorder, suggested that he had led a gentle life, possibly mingling with the followers of the Court.

The gaze was returned--a gaze full of wonderment.

"What would you have done?" said the stranger. "Eaten the bitter acorns and the leaves?"

"No," cried Waller, laughing, "I should just think not! Why, I should have done as Bunny Wrigg would--sc.r.a.ped myself out a good hole in the side of one of the sandpits, half-filled it with dry bracken for my bed, made a corner for my fire somewhere outside, and then had a good go in at the rabbits and the fish; and there are plenty of pig-nuts and truffles, if you know how to hunt for them. There are several places where you can get mushrooms out in the open part among the furze where the gra.s.s grows short; and then there's that kind that grows on the oak-trees. You can trap birds, too, or knock over ducks that come down the stream if you are lucky. I have several times got one with a bow and arrow. Oh, there are lots of ways to keep from starving out in the woods."

"Ah," said the lad feebly, "you are a country boy. I come from French cities, and know nothing of these things."

"Oh!" said Waller thoughtfully. "What have you had to eat this morning?"

The boy laughed sadly. "I have picked some leaves," he said.

"Picked some leaves!" cried Waller contemptuously. "Why didn't you hunt for some of the hens' eggs? There are lots about here, half-wild, that have strayed away from the farms and taken to the woods. Of course a raw egg is not so good as one nicely cooked, but it would keep a fellow from looking as bad as you do. Here, I say, I am sorry that I knocked you about so. I didn't know that you were so bad as this."

"It doesn't matter now," was the reply. "You had better give me up to the soldiers at once. I suppose they will give me something to eat. My pride's all gone now, and I only want to get it over and bring it to an end. It's very contemptible, I know, but it is very horrible, all the same."

"What is?" said Waller quickly.

"To feel that you are starving to death."

"There, now you are talking nonsense," said Waller warmly. "Why, of course it is. Who's going to starve to death? Here, I suppose I oughtn't to help you?"

"No; I am an enemy. Give me up to the soldiers as quickly as you can."

"Bother the soldiers!" cried Waller hotly. "Let them do their work themselves. I don't know anything about enemies. You are half-starved and ill, and if you stop till I come back I'll run off and get you something to eat. I could take you home with me at once, but if I did the servants would see you, and begin to talk, and then it might get to the ears of the soldiers, if there are any about. Don't run away till I come back with them," continued Waller, with a mocking laugh. "You don't want any more water, do you?"

The lad shook his head.

"Then creep in there under those ferns. n.o.body could see you even if he came by, and Bunny Wrigg is the only one likely to be about here.

Clever as he is, I don't suppose he would spy you out. Why, I shouldn't have seen you if you hadn't started up as you did. That's right. I shan't be long."

Waller s.n.a.t.c.hed up the two joints of his rod, and the creel which he had thrown down, and started off at a smart trot in and out amongst the great beeches, not traversing the way by which he had come, but striking a bee-line for home.

CHAPTER FOUR.

A RAID ON THE LARDER.

Brackendene was the very model of an Elizabethan country house, with cl.u.s.ters of twisted chimneys, and ivy clinging to the red bricks everywhere that it could find a hold.

There was an attractive porch opening out upon the well-kept pleasaunce, but, instead of going straight to it, Waller looked sharply to right and left, saw n.o.body and heard nothing but a dull, distant _thump, thump_, and the barking of a dog from somewhere at the back.

The next minute he was through one of the dining-room cas.e.m.e.nts, and crossed into the hall, where he stood listening for a moment or two to the _thump, thump_, which now sounded nearer.

"That's Martha at her churn," he muttered. "How stupid it seems!

Anyone would think I was a thief."

He felt like one as he crossed the hall, opened a big oak door cautiously, and made his way into the great red-brick-floored kitchen, where from an opening to his left the thumping of the churn came louder still, accompanied by a dull humming sound, something like the buzz of a musical bee, but which was intended by the utterer to represent a tune.

Waller nodded his head with satisfaction, and went off to his right out of the kitchen into a cool stone pa.s.sage, and then through a door into a stone-floored larder, whose wire-covered, ivy-shaded windows gave upon the north.

But Waller Froy had no thought for the situation of the larder. His attention was taken up by about three-quarters of a raised pork-pie, which he took off the dish, and, after a moment's hesitation, drew his big trout out of the creel and dabbed it in where the pie had stood, making the latter take the fish's place in the creel.