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Pete Warboys has been for long enough mixed up with the Sanding gang, and was out with them last night over at Brackenbury Park, when the keepers come upon them, and there was a fight. One of the keepers was shot in the legs, and two of the poachers was a good deal knocked about. They were mastered, and four of 'em are in the lock-up." "But you said Pete was taken."
Then as I run to see, I hears Pete Warboys yelling out `They shot me with a big gun they shot me with a big gun." "Hadn't some one better fetch the doctor?" said a fresh voice. "He's gone out," cried another. "Shot me with a big gun," yelled Pete again. "Thank you, yes, thank you," came now in a voice which made Tom Blount's heart leap. "I don't think I am much hurt. Where is my boy Tom?"
"I say, Master Tom," cried David, who never could see that his young master had grown a man, "did you see Pete Warboys? There: if anybody had took a hoath and swore it, I wouldn't ha' believed there could ha' been such a change. Here, look at him. Six foot high, and as straight as a harrer. 'Member giving him the stick over the wall?" "Ah, Mr David!" cried Pete, marching up. "How are the apples?
I heard you had bought it. Sails gone, mended, painted. Why, surely yes no yes, I have it observatory." "Right." "Splendid idea. Capital. You ought to have a big telescope for that." "Making it," said Uncle Richard laconically. "Glad of it. Wish I could join you. There, good-bye, so much to do; can't tell me, I suppose, what to do with that lad Pete Warboys?"
The Vicar rose from his seat and came forward, giving the boy a startled look. "Your face is horribly bruised, and did you fall from some tree? My dear lad, it's terrible just as if you had been fighting." "I have," said Tom bluntly, as he stood with his head erect, but his nearly-closed eyes fixed upon the ground. "But there's no one to fight with here?" "Yes Pete Warboys."
"Oh, well, go on boy, go on. You must have beaten the clay quite soft. When are you going to put it in the new mould?" "I don't know, uncle," said Tom. "I expect the next thing will be that Pete will half kill me." Tom saw very little more of Pete Warboys.
Pete Warboys looked perfectly astounded at Tom's act, and stood staring for a few moments. Then, attributing it to horror and desperate fear, he ran at his enemy again, and got a firm grip of his collar, to begin see-sawing him to and fro. "That's it, is it?" he cried; "yer'd kick my dorg, would yer?
"Somebody's throwing stones," cried Tom excitedly, turning to look round, but there was nothing visible, though the boy felt sure that the thrower must be Pete Warboys hidden somewhere among the trees. Then he felt sure of it, for, glancing toward the clumps of furze in the more open part, another well-aimed stone came and struck the road between the wheels of the bath-chair.
The straw itself decorated hedges, hung in trees, and was spread over fields as far as he could see. All at once he heard a yelp, and turning, there was Pete Warboys' dog racing toward him as hard as it could come. As it drew nearer, tearing along the sandy road, it began to bark furiously, and looked so vicious that Tom stooped and picked up a big stone.
"You old impostor!" said Uncle Richard softly. "You can see who we are plainly enough." "D'yer hear? Don't want any to-day." "Now, Mrs Warboys, I want to see your grandson." "Hey?" "I say I want to see your grandson." "What?" "I want to see your grandson." "Who are you? Haven't you got anything to sell?" "You know I have not. You can see well enough when you come for help." "Hey? Who are you?"
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