"Really," he said, "some sort of ill luck is attached to that swing to-day."

And then Franoise appeared, to tell them that tea was ready.

"What curious French she talks," commented the smiling Elsie.

"Yes," cried Angle tartly. "Bad French, eh? And I know heaps and heaps of it."

She caught Mr. Herbert's eye, and added an excuse:

"I'm going to change all that. People think I'm naughty when I speak like a domestic. And I really don't mean anything wrong."

"We all use too much slang," said the tolerant-minded vicar. "It is sheer indolence. We refuse to bother our brains for the right word."

CHAPTER XVII

TWO MOORLAND EPISODES

Though all hands were needed on the farm in strenuous endeavor to repair the storm's havoc, Dr. MacGregor forbade Martin to work when he examined the reopened cut. Thus, the boy was free to guide Fritz, the chauffeur, on the morning the man came to look at Bolland's herd.

Fritz Bauer--that was the name he gave--had improved his English p.r.o.nunciation marvelously within a fortnight. He no longer confused "d's" and "t's." He had conquered the sibilant sound of the "s." He was even wrestling with the elusive "th," subst.i.tuting "d" for "z."

"I learnt from a book," he explained, when Martin complimented him on his mastery of English. "Dat is goot--no, good--but one trains de ear only in de country where de people spik--speak--de language all de time."

The sharp-witted boy soon came to the conclusion that his German friend was more interested in the money value of the cattle as pedigreed stock than in the "points"--such as weight, color, bone, level back, and milking qualities--which commended them to the experienced eye. Bauer asked where he could obtain a show catalogue, and jotted down the printer's address. When they happened on a team of Cleveland bays, however, Fritz was thoroughly at home, and gratified his hearer by displaying a horseman's knowledge of a truly superb animal.

"Dey are light, yet strong," he said, his eyes roving from high-set withers to shapely hocks and clean-cut fetlocks. "Each could pull a ton on a bad road--yes?"

Martin laughed. He was blind to the cynical smile called forth by his amus.e.m.e.nt.

"A ton? Two tons. Why, one day last winter, when a pair of Belgians couldn't move a loaded lorry in the deep snow, my father had the man take out both of 'em, and Prince walked away with the lot."

"So?" cried the German admiringly.

"But you understand horses," went on Martin. "Yet I've read that men who drive motors don't care for anything else, as a rule."

"Ah, dat reminds me," said the other. "It is a fine day. Come wid me in de machine."

"That'll be grand," said Martin elatedly. "Can you take it out?"

"Oh, yes. Any time I--dat is, I'll ask Mrs. Saumarez, and she will permit--yes."

Quarter of an hour later the chauffeur was explaining, in German, that he was going into the country for a long spin, and Mrs. Saumarez was listening, not consenting.

"Going alone?" she inquired languidly.

"No, madam," he answered. "Martin Bolland will come with me."

"Why not take Miss Angle?"

The man smiled.

"I want the boy to talk," he explained.

Mrs. Saumarez nodded. She treated the matter with indifference. Not so Angle, who heard the car purring down the drive, and inquired Fritz's errand. She was furious when her mother blurted out the news that Martin would accompany Bauer.

"Ce cochon d'Allemand!" she stormed, her long lashes wet with vexed tears. "He has done that purposely. He knew I wanted to go. But I'll get even with him! See if I don't."

"Angle!" and Mrs. Saumarez reddened with annoyance; "if ever you say a word about such matters to Fritz I'll pack you off to school within the hour. I mean it, so believe me."

Angle stamped a rebellious foot, but curbed her tongue and vanished.

She ran all the way to the village and was just in time to see the Mercedes bowling smoothly out of sight, with Martin seated beside the chauffeur. She was so angry that she stamped again in rage, and Evelyn Atkinson came from the inn to inquire the cause. But Angle snubbed her, bought some chocolates from Mr. Webster, and never offered the other girl a taste.

It happened that Martin, for his part, had suggested a call at the vicarage. Fritz vetoed the motion promptly.

"Impossible!" he grinned. "I had to dodge de odder one, yes."

Evidently Fritz had kept both eyes and ears open.

They headed for the moors. Wise Martin had counseled a slow speed in the village to allay Mrs. Bolland's dread of a new-fangled device which she "couldn't abide"; but once on the open road the car breasted a steep hill at a rate which the boy thought neck-breaking.

"Dat is nodding," said Fritz nonchalantly. "Twenty--twenty-five. Wait till we are on de level. Den I show you fifty."

Within six minutes Martin flew past Mrs. Summersgill's moor-edge farm.

Never before had he reached that point in less than half an hour. The stout party was in the porch, peeling potatoes for the midday meal. She lifted her hands in astonishment as her young friend sped by. Martin waved a greeting. He could almost hear her say:

"That lad o' Bolland's must ha' gone clean daft. I'm surprised at Martha te let him ride i' such a conthraption."

On the hedgeless road of the undulating moor, even after the ravages of the gale, fifty miles an hour was practicable for long stretches. Fritz was a skilled driver. He seemed to have a sixth sense which warned him of rain-gullies, and slowed up to avoid straining the car. He began explaining the mechanism, and halted on the highest point of a far-flung tableland to lift the bonnet and show the delighted boy the operations of the Otto cycle. In those days the self-starter was unknown, but Martin found he could start the heated engine without any difficulty.

Fritz permitted him to drive slowly, and taught him the use of the brakes. Finally, this most agreeable Teuton produced a packet of sandwiches. He was in no hurry to return.

"Dese farms," he said, pointing to a low-built house with tiled roof, and a cl.u.s.ter of stables and haymows, "dey do not raise stock, eh? Only little sheep?"

"They all keep milk-cows, and bring b.u.t.ter to the market, so they often have calves and yearlings," was the ready answer.

"And horses?"

"Always a couple, and a nag for counting the sheep."

"How many sheep?"

"Never less than a hundred. Some flocks run to three or four hundred."

"Ah. Where are dey?"

Martin, proud of his knowledge, indicated the position and approximate distance of the hollows, invisible for the most part, in which lay the larger holdings.