Chapter IX

At the spot where he had left his great bundle, Archie unrolled it, and doubling his blanket into a square, put it on my back, for he had brought away only the bridle which was rightfully mine. This reduced what he had to carry to a quite moderate package.

Once fairly started, I still was not allowed to rush or put forth all my strength.

“Steady, steady there!” warned Archie; “prudence is the word for you and me, pony boy; the way will be as long as you can stand until to-night, and will be still longer to-morrow. I hope to-morrow night will see us at home, but you must not tire too soon. Besides, there is no knowing what Lord Rondo may do. He isn’t the man to let a fine pony escape him if he can help it, even if it was stolen in the first place.”

“Keep on going, but don’t get winded before we reach a place of possible concealment. So, ho, pony, it looks as if we were on the high road to good times, you and I! Let me tell you something not mentioned before.”

“Mr. Van Vim has offered a handsome reward to anyone discovering or bringing you back. I don’t care for money just because it is money. I’d have returned you, or told your whereabouts merely to have seen right done, but if I should get a little help to start me on my way, don’t you see what a thing it would be for me?”

“I could begin by helping an experienced horse doctor, with perhaps a chance at some schooling. But you see a chap must have clothes. I’ve got three precious dollars earned by doing odd jobs, and I’ve managed to find food and shelter for nearly two months.”

“That is all the money I own, and Rondo ought to be ashamed of himself to go back on his word, but, was I at all wise to trust a gipsy?”

Away we went at a steady, sensible gait, and thankful I was that breathing seemed easy, and my legs after their rest of a few days had gained more strength than I had supposed.

Archie kept me to by-paths and back streets all he could, yet taking care to follow the telegraph poles, which he knew to be a guide. People did not appear to take much notice of us as we tripped along. Fortunately the weather had held mild, and before the early dusk had fallen, not a few miles had been gone over.

As it grew darker the boy drove me to the back of a barn at the rear of a house that had no tenants. Here he tied me, saying, I thought a little anxiously:

“Now don’t whinny, or make any sound. I’ll soon be back.”

He went away, and I was glad on looking around to see a neglected orchard back of me, a place where it was not likely anyone would be strolling at that hour. But I was relieved when my boy-rider returned, a long, stout paper bag in his arms.

He managed to mount, and with the paper bag before him drove me on. There was a young moon and by its light he guided me still further until we came to what I felt sure he was looking for, a piece of woods.

The place was at the end of a long, straight road, and in the stillness of night any sound could be heard a long distance away. Into the shade of partially leafless trees I was led, and from the big paper bag was given a small measure of oats and hay.

“Must keep some for to-morrow,” Archie said.

From the pocket of his loose cardigan jacket he took some crackers, which furnished all his meal. Shortly before entering the rather too open dell, I had stopped at more than one water trough, so I did not suffer for a drink.

Animals of nearly all kinds require a great deal of water, but there was a joyous instinct keenly alive that night making me feel sure of having as much water as would be good for me, all in good time.

The boy who was now my kindly keeper did some strange things in preparation for the night. He appeared to examine every foot of ground within a large space. He also forgot to talk aloud as he peered hither and yon. At length he gathered together a great pile of leaves; oh, a very great pile. Spreading his blanket on the ground, he bade me lie down. As I did so, he spread a portion of the blanket over me, so that it was both under me and forming a coverlet.

“Now, hossy,” he said, “it may be tough, but you must do just as I say. After I get you fixed, lie still, don’t attempt to roll over or lift your head, but lie perfectly quiet.”

Then he began heaping leaves over the blanket, which fortunately were not damp, as they might have been. I had sense enough to know he was hiding me. My head was on a little mound which made it easier for breathing, and tired as I was, sleep would not be long delayed.

Archie crouched at the foot of a still leafy tree. I feared he would take cold, although under the cardigan jacket was a decent sweater; but we were just a boy and a pony trying to work our way to home and proper shelter, not over strong either of us, and just now rather unprotected.

But the idea kept floating through my head: “Only for to-night, only for to-night, and then our tribulation will be over.” In broad daylight, the brawny gipsy would not dare to follow and claim me, for then, Archie could declare boldly that I had been stolen, and investigation would follow.

But in the dark and stilly night it would not be pleasant to have him discover and overpower us.

It grew very quiet and very dark as the young moon set and the night grew late. Even the few crickets that had chirped for a while drowsed off into silence. It must have been past the middle of the night when pounding hoofs sounded from afar on that long stretch of road.

Then a rustling nearer at hand caused me to partly raise my head and peep around. Archie was climbing the leafy tree. He had caught the thud of those heavy hoofs and was ascending to a place of safety where he could see and not be seen.

I curled under my nest of leaves, but kept ears alert. The hearing of animals is acute. I knew by the way that rider approached that his was an eager quest. Two men were on the back of the powerful horse that doubtless had been borrowed to aid in the night search.

At the strip of woods they halted, and the light of a lantern flashed amidst the darkness. I heard Rondo’s harsh voice say:

“They can’t be here. We can see right through the trees and there’s nothing tethered. I think the spry young rogue would push on to that thicker bunch of trees and tangle two miles farther on.”

“Do you think the pony could go that far?” asked the other. “I doubt me but we’re on the wrong track altogether.”

“Don’t croak,” snapped Rondo, “we’ll push ahead to the other thicket; the pony might be glad to get away, and do better with his legs than we’d think for.”

Ah, Mister Rondo, you were right that time if never before!

He swung the lantern to his arm, made a circuit, coming to within a few yards of where I lay quiet as the leaves that covered me. I could imagine how big the boy’s eyes must have grown as he watched the search-party that now wheeled and rode away.

As the hoof beats grew distant, Archie came to the ground, cowering close to me as if to get warmth and comfort from my warm sides. I moved a little to change my cramped position, while feeling glad to have the boy near me. And very glad I was to hear the tones of his voice.

“That’s right, hossy, turn a little; it will relieve you. But we must be wary. I think our pursuers will come back when they miss us two miles ahead. Now I must heap up these leaves again; it won’t do to have an ear or a leg give a suspicion.”

He scattered handfuls of leaves all about me, then lay down close to my curious bed. Could he only have been sure of the course Rondo had taken, we might have stolen off in an opposite direction, but no doubt the boy was wise in thinking it the best plan to stay where we were.

I felt as though another night had passed when distant hoof beats again sent Archie climbing the tree after hastily scattering more evenly my covering of leaves.

The great horse came thumping along, stopping short while the men took a second sharp look by lantern light along the sombre network of bushes and scattered trees. But neither figure of boy nor form of pony were visible in the dampness and unbroken stillness of the place.

“They haven’t been here,” growled Rondo, pulling a sharp rein, and clattering along the road, went horse and men, but not on an unbroken trot. Every little while they stopped, and it was evident, listened if possibly the sound of a pony’s foot might reach their ears.

As all grew still again, back to my side came Archie, his teeth chattering with cold and anxiety. I sat up partly, enabling him to rest his head on my shoulder, but I do not believe either of us slept for a long time. Then I was glad when the sound of heavy breathing told me the boy was sleeping, his sunny head on my shoulder, his light form resting against my side.

I dozed too, for I was very tired. The trot of the long afternoon, although deliberate, had taken a good deal of pluck and strength, and the few hours of complete rest now taken were worth a great deal. And if I felt cramped from lying unusually long in one position, not for anything would I have disturbed the dear laddie, resting so quietly beside me.

The pale light of an October morning was glimmering through the trees when at length the boy awoke.

“Hullo, hossy,” he cried, a note of triumph in his glad young voice: “here we are, all right! Now for a make-believe rub, a bite of breakfast, then a long pull and a hard pull, and if I’m not mistaken, we’ll sleep in snug, warm quarters to-night—somewheres.”