Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
no harm to come of it, neither visible form approaching, I wiped my
forehead, and hoped for the best, and resolved to run every step of the
way, till I drew our own latch behind me.
Yet here again I was disappointed, for no sooner was I come to the
cross-ways by the black pool in the hole, but I heard through the patter
of my own feet a rough low sound very close in the fog, as of a hobbled
sheep a-coughing. I listened, and feared, and yet listened again, though
I wanted not to hear it. For being in haste of the homeward road, and
all my heart having heels to it, loath I was to stop in the dusk for the
sake of an aged wether. Yet partly my love of all animals, and partly
my fear of the farmer's disgrace, compelled me to go to the succour, and
the noise was coming nearer. A dry short wheezing sound it was, barred
with coughs and want of breath; but thus I made the meaning of it.
“Lord have mercy upon me! O Lord, upon my soul have mercy! An if I
cheated Sam Hicks last week, Lord knowest how well he deserved it, and
lied in every stocking's mouth--oh Lord, where be I a-going?”
These words, with many jogs between them, came to me through the
darkness, and then a long groan and a choking. I made towards the sound,
as nigh as ever I could guess, and presently was met, point-blank, by
the head of a mountain-pony. Upon its back lay a man bound down, with
his feet on the neck and his head to the tail, and his arms falling
down like stirrups. The wild little nag was scared of its life by the
unaccustomed burden, and had been tossing and rolling hard, in desire to
get ease of it.
Before the little horse could turn, I caught him, jaded as he was, by
his wet and grizzled forelock, and he saw that it was vain to struggle,
but strove to bite me none the less, until I smote him upon the nose.
“Good and worthy sir,” I said to the man who was riding so roughly;
“fear nothing; no harm shall come to thee.”
“Help, good friend, whoever thou art,” he gasped, but could not look at
me, because his neck was jerked so; “God hath sent thee, and not to rob
me, because it is done already.”
“What, Uncle Ben!” I cried, letting go the horse in amazement, that
the richest man in Dulverton--“Uncle Ben here in this plight! What, Mr.
Reuben Huckaback!”
“An honest hosier and draper, serge and longcloth warehouseman”--he
groaned from rib to rib--“at the sign of the Gartered Kitten in the
loyal town of Dulverton. For God's sake, let me down, good fellow, from
this accursed marrow-bone; and a groat of good money will I pay thee,
safe in my house to Dulverton; but take notice that the horse is mine,
no less than the nag they robbed from me.”
“What, Uncle Ben, dost thou not know me, thy dutiful nephew John Ridd?”
Not to make a long story of it, I cut the thongs that bound him, and
set him astride on the little horse; but he was too weak to stay so.
Therefore I mounted him on my back, turning the horse into horse-steps,
and leading the pony by the cords which I fastened around his nose, set
out for Plover's Barrows.
Uncle Ben went fast asleep on my back, being jaded and shaken beyond his
strength, for a man of three-score and five; and as soon he felt assured
of safety he would talk no more. And to tell the truth he snored so
loudly, that I could almost believe that fearful noise in the fog every
night came all the way from Dulverton.
Now as soon as ever I brought him in, we set him up in the
chimney-corner, comfortable and handsome; and it was no little delight
to me to get him off my back; for, like his own fortune, Uncle Ben was
of a good round figure. He gave his long coat a shake or two, and he
stamped about in the kitchen, until he was sure of his whereabouts, and
then he fell asleep again until supper should be ready.
“He shall marry Ruth,” he said by-and-by to himself, and not to me; “he
shall marry Ruth for this, and have my little savings, soon as they be
worth the having. Very little as yet, very little indeed; and ever so
much gone to-day along of them rascal robbers.”
My mother made a dreadful stir, of course, about Uncle Ben being in such
a plight as this; so I left him to her care and Annie's, and soon they
fed him rarely, while I went out to see to the comfort of the captured
pony. And in truth he was worth the catching, and served us very well
afterwards, though Uncle Ben was inclined to claim him for his business
at Dulverton, where they have carts and that like. “But,” I said, “you
shall have him, sir, and welcome, if you will only ride him home as
first I found you riding him.” And with that he dropped it.
A very strange old man he was, short in his manner, though long of body,
glad to do the contrary things to what any one expected of him, and
always looking sharp at people, as if he feared to be cheated. This
surprised me much at first, because it showed his ignorance of what we
farmers are--an upright race, as you may find, scarcely ever cheating
indeed, except upon market-day, and even then no more than may be helped
by reason of buyers expecting it. Now our simple ways were a puzzle to
him, as I told him very often; but he only laughed, and rubbed his mouth
with the back of his dry shining hand, and I think he shortly began to
languish for want of some one to higgle with. I had a great mind to give
him the pony, because he thought himself cheated in that case; only he
would conclude that I did it with some view to a legacy.
Of course, the Doones, and nobody else, had robbed good Uncle Reuben;
and then they grew sportive, and took his horse, an especially sober
nag, and bound the master upon the wild one, for a little change as they
told him. For two or three hours they had fine enjoyment chasing him
through the fog, and making much sport of his groanings; and then
waxing hungry, they went their way, and left him to opportunity. Now
Mr. Huckaback growing able to walk in a few days' time, became thereupon
impatient, and could not be brought to understand why he should have
been robbed at all.
“I have never deserved it,” he said to himself, not knowing much of
Providence, except with a small p to it; “I have never deserved it, and
will not stand it in the name of our lord the King, not I!” At other
times he would burst forth thus: “Three-score years and five have I
lived an honest and laborious life, yet never was I robbed before. And
now to be robbed in my old age, to be robbed for the first time now!”
Thereupon of course we would tell him how truly thankful he ought to be
for never having been robbed before, in spite of living so long in this
world, and that he was taking a very ungrateful, not to say ungracious,
view, in thus repining, and feeling aggrieved; when anyone else would
have knelt and thanked God for enjoying so long an immunity. But say
what we would, it was all as one. Uncle Ben stuck fast to it, that he
had nothing to thank God for.
CHAPTER XIV
A MOTION WHICH ENDS IN A MULL
Instead of minding his New-Year pudding, Master Huckaback carried on so
about his mighty grievance, that at last we began to think there must be
something in it, after all; especially as he assured us that choice and
costly presents for the young people of our household were among the
goods divested. But mother told him her children had plenty, and wanted
no gold and silver, and little Eliza spoke up and said, “You can give us
the pretty things, Uncle Ben, when we come in the summer to see you.”
Our mother reproved Eliza for this, although it was the heel of her
own foot; and then to satisfy our uncle, she promised to call Farmer
Nicholas Snowe, to be of our council that evening, “And if the young
maidens would kindly come, without taking thought to smoothe themselves,
why it would be all the merrier, and who knew but what Uncle Huckaback
might bless the day of his robbery, etc., etc.--and thorough good honest
girls they were, fit helpmates either for shop or farm.” All of which
was meant for me; but I stuck to my platter and answered not.
In the evening Farmer Snowe came up, leading his daughters after him,
like fillies trimmed for a fair; and Uncle Ben, who had not seen them on
the night of his mishap (because word had been sent to stop them), was
mightily pleased and very pleasant, according to his town bred ways.
The damsels had seen good company, and soon got over their fear of his
wealth, and played him a number of merry pranks, which made our mother
quite jealous for Annie, who was always shy and diffident. However, when
the hot cup was done, and before the mulled wine was ready, we packed
all the maidens in the parlour and turned the key upon them; and then we
drew near to the kitchen fire to hear Uncle Ben's proposal. Farmer Snowe
sat up in the corner, caring little to hear about anything, but smoking
slowly, and nodding backward like a sheep-dog dreaming. Mother was in
the settle, of course, knitting hard, as usual; and Uncle Ben took to
a three-legged stool, as if all but that had been thieved from him.
Howsoever, he kept his breath from speech, giving privilege, as was due,
to mother.
“Master Snowe, you are well assured,” said mother, colouring like the
furze as it took the flame and fell over, “that our kinsman here hath
received rough harm on his peaceful journey from Dulverton. The times
are bad, as we all know well, and there is no sign of bettering them,
and if I could see our Lord the King I might say things to move him!
nevertheless, I have had so much of my own account to vex for--”
“You are flying out of the subject, Sarah,” said Uncle Ben, seeing tears
in her eyes, and tired of that matter.
“Zettle the pralimbinaries,” spoke Farmer Snowe, on appeal from us,
“virst zettle the pralimbinaries; and then us knows what be drivin' at.”
“Preliminaries be damned, sir,” cried Uncle Ben, losing his temper.
“What preliminaries were there when I was robbed; I should like to know?
Robbed in this parish as I can prove, to the eternal disgrace of Oare
and the scandal of all England. And I hold this parish to answer for it,
sir; this parish shall make it good, being a nest of foul thieves as it
is; ay, farmers, and yeomen, and all of you. I will beggar every man
in this parish, if they be not beggars already, ay, and sell your old
church up before your eyes, but what I will have back my tarlatan,
time-piece, saddle, and dove-tailed nag.”
Mother looked at me, and I looked at Farmer Snowe, and we all were sorry
for Master Huckaback, putting our hands up one to another, that nobody
should browbeat him; because we all knew what our parish was, and none
the worse for strong language, however rich the man might be. But Uncle
Ben took it in a different way. He thought that we all were afraid of
him, and that Oare parish was but as Moab or Edom, for him to cast his
shoe over.
“Nephew Jack,” he cried, looking at me when I was thinking what to say,
and finding only emptiness, “you are a heavy lout, sir; a bumpkin, a
clodhopper; and I shall leave you nothing, unless it be my boots to
grease.”
“Well, uncle,” I made answer, “I will grease your boots all the same for
that, so long as you be our guest, sir.”
Now, that answer, made without a thought, stood me for two thousand
pounds, as you shall see, by-and-by, perhaps.
“As for the parish,” my mother cried, being too hard set to contain
herself, “the parish can defend itself, and we may leave it to do so.
But our Jack is not like that, sir; and I will not have him spoken of.
Leave him indeed! Who wants you to do more than to leave him alone, sir;
as he might have done you the other night; and as no one else would
have dared to do. And after that, to think so meanly of me, and of my
children!”