Bevis: The Story of a Boy

been well dusted. This immunity aggravatedthem; they could not hurt him.

  "Put him in the stable all night," said Bevis, "and don't give himanything to eat."

  "And no water," said Mark, as he rode off. "So I will."

  And so he did. But the donkey had cropped all day, and was full, andjust before John Young caught him had had a draught, rather unusual forhim and equal to an omen, at the drinking-place by the raft. The donkeyslept, and beat them.

  After Mark had gone Bevis returned to the bench-room, and fastened abrass curtain-ring to the mast, which they had carried up there. Whenhe had finished, noticing the three phials of poison he thought he wouldgo and see if he could find out any more fatal plants. There was anancient encyclopaedia in the bookcase, in which he had read many curiousthings, such as would not be considered practical enough for modernpublication, which must be dry or nothing. Among the rest was a page ofchemical signs and those used by the alchemists, some of which he hadcopied off for magic. Pulling out the volumes, which were piledhaphazard, like bricks shot out of a cart, there was one that had allthe alphabets employed in the different languages, Coptic, Gothic,Ethiopic, Syriac, and so on.

  The Arabic took his fancy as the most mysterious--the sweeping curves,the quivering lines, the blots where the reed pen thickened, there wasno knowing what such writing might not mean. How mystic the letteringwhich forms the running ornament of the Alhambra! It is the writing ofthe Orient, of the alchemist and enchanter, the astrologer and theprophet.

  Bevis copied the alphabet, and then he made a roll of a broad sheet ofyellowish paper torn from the end of one of the large volumes, afly-leaf, and wrote the letters upon it in such a manner as their shapeand flowing contour arranged themselves. With these he mingled thealchemic signs for fire and air and water, and so by the time the duskcrept into the parlour and filled it with shadow he had completed amanuscript. This he rolled up and tied with string, intending to buryit in the sand of the quarry, so that when they sailed round in the shipthey might land and discover it.

  Mark returned to breakfast, and said that Frances had promised to hemthe sails, and thought it would not take long. Bevis showed him theroll.

  "It looks magic," said Mark. "What does it mean?"

  "I don't know," said Bevis. "That is what we shall have to find outwhen we discover it. Besides the magic is never in the writing; it iswhat you see when you read it--it's like looking in a looking-glass, andseeing people moving about a thousand miles away."

  "I know," said Mark. "We can put it in a sand-martin's hole, then itwon't get wet if it rains."

  They started for the bathing-place, and carefully deposited the roll ina sand-martin's hole some way up the face of the quarry, covering itwith sand. To know the spot again, they counted and found it was thethird burrow to the right, if you stood by the stone heap and lookedstraight towards the first sycamore-tree. Having taken the bearings,they dragged the catamaran down to the water, and had a swim. When theycame out, and were running about on the high ground by the sycamores,they caught sight of a dog-cart slowly crossing the field a long wayoff, and immediately hid behind a tree to reconnoitre the new savage,themselves unseen.

  "It's Jack," said Bevis; "I'm sure it is." It was Jack, and he wasgoing at a walking pace, because the track across the field was rough,and he did not care to get to the gateway before the man sent to open ithad arrived there. His object was to look at some grass to rent for hissheep.

  "Yes, it's Jack," said Mark, very slowly and doubtfully. Bevis lookedat him.

  "Well, suppose it is; he won't hurt us. We can easily shoot him if hecomes here."

  "But the letter," said Mark.

  "What letter?"

  Mark had started for his clothes, which were in a heap on the sward, heseized his coat, and drew a note much frayed from one of the pockets.He looked at it, heaved a deep sigh, and ran with all his might tointercept Jack. Bevis watched him tearing across the field and laughed;then he sat down on the grass to wait for him.

  Mark, out of breath and with thistles in his feet, would never haveovertaken the dog-cart had not Jack seen him coming and stopped. Hecould not speak, but handed up the note in silence, more like Cupid thanmessengers generally. He panted so that he could not run away directly,as he had intended.

  "You rascal," said Jack, flicking at him with his whip. "How long haveyou had this in your pocket?"

  Mark tried to run away, he could only trot; Jack turned his mare's head,as if half-inclined to drive after him.

  "If you come," said Mark, shaking his fist, "we'll shoot you and stick aspear into you. Aha! you're afraid! aha!"

  Jack was too eager to read his note to take vengeance. Mark walked awayjeering at him. The reins hung down, and the mare cropped as the masterread. Mark laughed to think he had got off so easily, for the letterhad been in his pocket a week, though he had faithfully promised todeliver it the same day--for a shilling. Had he not been sent home withthe sails it might have remained another week till the envelope wasfretted through.

  Frances asked if he had given it to Jack.

  Mark started. "Ah," said she, "you have forgotten it."

  "Of course I have," said Mark. "It's so long ago."

  "Then you did really?"

  "How stupid you are," said Mark; and Frances could not press himfurther, lest she should seem too anxious about Jack. So the young dogescaped, but he did not dare delay longer, and had not Jack happened tocross the field meant to have ridden up to his house on the donkey.When Jack had read the note he looked at the retreating figure of Cupidand opened his lips, but caught his breath as it were and did not sayit. He put his whip aside as he drove on, lest he should unjustlypunish the mare.

  Mark strolled leisurely back to the bathing-place, but when he got thereBevis was not to be seen. He looked round at the water, the quarry, thesycamore-trees. He ran down to the water's edge with his heart beatingand a wild terror causing a whirling sensation in his eyes, for thethought in the instant came to him that Bevis had gone out of his depth.He tried to shout "Bevis!" but he was choked; he raised his hands; ashe looked across the water he suddenly saw something white moving amongthe fir-trees at the head of the gulf.

  He knew it was Bevis, but he was so overcome he sat down on the sward towatch, he could not stand up. The something white was stealthilypassing from tree to tree like an Indian. Mark looked round, and sawhis own harpoon on the grass, but at once missed the bow and arrows.His terror had suspended his observation, else he would have noticedthis before.

  Bevis, when Mark ran with the letter to Jack, had sat down on the swardto wait for him, and by-and-by, while still, and looking out over thewater, his quiet eye became conscious of a slight movement opposite atthe mouth of the Nile. There was a ripple, and from the high groundwhere he sat he could see the reflection of the trees in the water thereundulate, though their own boughs shut off the light air from thesurface. He got up, took his bow and arrows, and went into the firs.The dead dry needles or leaves on the ground felt rough to his nakedfeet, and he had to take care not to step on the hard cones. A fewsmall bramble bushes forced him to go aside, so that it took him somelittle time to get near the Nile.

  Then he had to always keep a tree trunk in front of him, and to stepslowly that his head might not be seen before he could see what it washimself. He stooped as the ripples on the other side of the brookbecame visible; then gradually lifting his head, sheltered by a largealder, he traced the ripples back to the shore under the bank, and saw amoorcock feeding by the roots of a willow. Bevis waited till the cockturned his back, then he stole another step forward to the alder.

  It was about ten yards to the willow which hung over the water, but hecould not get any nearer, for there was no more cover beyond the alder--the true savage is never content unless he is close to his game. Bevisgrasped his bow firm in his left hand, drew the arrow quick butsteadily--not with a jerk--and as the sharp point covered the bird,loosed it. There was a splash and a fl
uttering, he knew instantly thathe had hit. "Mark! Mark!" he shouted, and ran down the bank, heedlessof the jagged stones. Mark heard, and came racing through the firs.

  The arrow had struck the moorcock's wing, but even then the bird wouldhave got away, for the point had no barb, and in diving and strugglingit would have come out, had not he been so near the willow. The spikewent through his wing and nailed it to a thick root; the arrow quiveredas it was stopped by the wood. Bevis seized him by the neck and drewthe arrow out.

  "Kill him! Kill him!" shouted Mark. The other savage pulled the neck,and Mark, leaping down the jagged stones, took the dead bird in hiseager hands.

  "Here's where the arrow went in."

  "There's three feathers