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There was no dog there. Peter was about to speak; but Tom silenced him by a look, and shouted, "Here we are! Gone to holt in this alder root!" "Now then, little Carlingford! Out of the way, puppies!" cries Trebooze, righted again for the moment by the excitement, and thrusting the hounds right and left, he stoops down to put in the little terrier.
"I'll go home with Campbell, and send the bottle up by a man and horse," cries Scoutbush; and away the two trot at a gallant pace, for a cross-country run home. "Mr. Tardrew, come with me, there's a good man! I shall want help." Tardrew made no reply, but dashed through the river at his heels. Trebooze had already climbed the plashed fence, and was running wildly across the meadow.
A broad bed of shingle, looking just now more like an ill-made turnpike road than the bed of Alva stream; above it, a long shallow pool, which showed every stone through the transparent water; on the right, a craggy bank, bedded with deep wood sedge and orange-tipped king ferns, clustering beneath sallow and maple bushes already tinged with gold; on the left, a long bar of gravel, covered with giant "butter-bur" leaves; in and out of which the hounds are brushing beautiful black-and-tan dogs, of which poor Trebooze may be pardonably proud; while round the burleaf-bed dances a rough white Irish terrier, seeming, by his frantic self-importance, to consider himself the master of the hounds.
"Hillo! Mr. Trebooze!" says the old fellow, looking up. "Here it is!" "Spraint? Spraint? Spraint? Where? Eh what?" cries Trebooze. "No; but what's as good: here on this alder stump, not an hour old. I thought they beauties starns weren't flemishing for nowt." "Here! Here! Here! Here! Musical, Musical! Sweetlips! Get out of the way!" and Trebooze runs down.
"Over! over! over!" shouts Peter, tumbling over the fence into the stream, and staggering across. Trebooze comes up to it, tries to scramble over, mutters something, and sits down astride of a bough. "You are not well, Squire?" "Well as ever I was in my life! only a little sick have been several times lately; couldn't sleep either haven't slept an hour this week. Don't know what it is."
Peter with utter astonishment; Tom because he saw what was the matter. "Don't stoop, Squire. You'll make the blood fly to your head. Let me " But Trebooze thrust him back with curses. "I'll have the brute out, and send the spear through him!" and flinging himself on his knees again, Trebooze began tearing madly at the roots and stones, shouting to the half-buried terrier to tear the intruder.
When the lesson comes, if it does come, I suppose it will come in some learnable shape; and till then, I must shift for myself and if self-dependence he a punishable sin, I shall, at all events, have plenty of company whithersoever I go. There is Lord Scoutbush and Trebooze!" Why did not Campbell speak his mind more clearly to Thurnall?
And Trebooze, "for his part, couldn't make out that lord uncommonly agreeable, and easy, and all that: but shoves a fellow off, and sets him down somehow, and in such a civil way, that you don't know where to have him."
Nasty black cur, how did he get here?" "Where? There's never no cur here!" "You lie, you oaf no why Doctor How many hounds are there here?" "I can't see," says Tom, "among those bushes." "Can't see, eh? Why don't those brutes hit it off?" says Trebooze, drawling, as if he had forgotten the matter, and lounging over the fence, drops into the stream, followed by Tom, and wades across.
She's up by this time; that don't sound like a drag now!" cries Tom, bursting desperately, with elbow-guarded visage, through the tangled scrub. "What's the matter, Trebooze? No, thanks! 'Modest quenchers' won't improve the wind just now." For Trebooze has halted, panting and bathed in perspiration; has been at the brandy flask again; and now offers Tom a "quencher," as he calls it.
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