Part 20 (1/2)

In this unhappy plight she pa.s.sed the rest of the night, dreading every moment lest the fox should come along (as she could not run away), and not less afraid of the daybreak, when some one would certainly find her.

After many weary hours, the bailiff coming to his work in the morning with a sack over his shoulders to keep out the rain, saw something on the gra.s.s, and pounced upon the wretched hare. Already his great thumb was against the back of her neck--already she was thrown across his knee--already she felt her sinews stretch, as he proceeded to break her neck, regardless of her shrieks--when suddenly it occurred to him how delighted Bevis would be with a living hare. For the bailiff was very fond of Bevis, and would have done anything to please him. So he took the hare in his arms, and carried her down to the farm.

When Bevis got up and came to breakfast, the bailiff came in and brought him the hare, expecting that he would be highly pleased. But Bevis in an instant recognised his friend who had shown him his way in the cowslips, and flew into a rage, and beat the bailiff with his fist for his cruelty. Nothing would satisfy him but he must let the hare go free before he touched his breakfast. He would not sit down, he stamped and made such a to-do that at last they let him have his own way.

He would not even allow the bailiff to carry the hare for him; he took her in his arms and went with her up the footpath into the field. He would not even permit them to follow him. Now, the hare knew him very well but could not speak when any one else was near, for it is very well known to be a law among hares and birds, and such creatures, that they can only talk to one human being, and are dumb when more than one are present. But when Bevis had taken her out into the footpath, and set her down, and stroked her back, and her long ears, black at the tip, and had told her to go straight up the footpath, and not through the long gra.s.s, because it was wet with the rain, the hare told him how she came in the wire through the wicked weasel telling her that he was lost in the copse.

”I was not lost,” said Bevis; ”I went to bed, and saw the owl go by. The weasel told another of his stories--now, I remember, he told me to set the trap for the rat.”

”Did he?” said the hare; ”then you may depend it is some more of his dreadful wickedness; there will be no peace in the world while he is allowed to go roaming about.”

”No,” said Bevis, ”that there will not: but as sure as my papa's gun, which is the best gun in the country, as sure as my papa's gun I will kill him the next time I see him. I will not listen to the squirrel, I will cut the weasel's tree down, and chop off his head.”

”I hope you will, dear,” said the hare. ”But now I must be gone, for I can hear Pan barking, and no doubt he can smell me; besides which, it is broad daylight, and I must go and hide; good-bye, my dear Sir Bevis.”

And away went the hare up the footpath till Bevis lost sight of her through the gateway.

Then he went to his breakfast, and directly afterwards, putting on his greatcoat, for it still rained a little, he went up to the wall by the pig-sty expecting to find the rat in the trap. But the trap was gone.

”There now,” said he, falling into another rage, twice already that morning; ”I do believe that stupid bailiff has moved it,” and so the bailiff trying to please him fell twice into disgrace in an hour.

Looking about to see where the bailiff had put the trap, he remembered what the weasel had told him, and going to the cart-house wall by the drain, found the trap and the weasel in it: ”Oh! you false and treacherous creature!” said Bevis, picking up a stone, ”now I will smash you into seventy thousand little pieces,” and he flung the stone with all his might, but being in too much of a hurry (as the snail had warned him) it missed the mark, and only knocked a bit of mortar out of the wall. He looked round for a bigger one, so that he might crush the wretch this time, when the weasel feebly lifted his head, and said: ”Bevis! Bevis! It is not generous of you to bear such malice towards me now I am dying; you should rather----”

”Hold your tongue, horrid thing,” said Bevis; ”I will not listen to anything you have to say. Here is a brick, this will do, first-rate, to pound you with, and now I think of it, I will come a little nearer so as to make quite sure.”

”Oh, Bevis!” said the weasel with a gasp, ”I shall be dead in a minute,”

and Bevis saw his head fall back.

”Tell the hare I repented,” said the weasel. ”I have been very wicked, Bevis--oh!--but I shall never, never do it any more--oh!----”

”Are you dead?” said Bevis. ”Are you quite dead?” putting down the brick, for he could not bear to see anything in such distress, and his rage was over in a minute.

”I am,” said the weasel, ”at least I shall be in half-a-minute, for I must be particular to tell the exact truth in this extremity. Oh! there is one thing I should like to say----”

”What is it?” said Bevis.

”But if you smash me I can't,” said the weasel; ”and what is the use of smas.h.i.+ng me, for all my bones are broken?”

”I will not smash you,” said Bevis, ”I will only have you nailed up to the stable door so that everybody may see what a wretch you were.”

”Thank you,” said the weasel, very gratefully, ”will you please tell the hare and all of them that if I could only live I would do everything I could to make up to them, for all the wickedness I have committed--oh!--I have not got time to say all I would. Oh! Bevis, Bevis!”

”Yes, poor thing,” said Bevis, now quite melted and sorry for the wretched criminal, whose life was ebbing so fast, ”what is it you want?

I will be sure to do it.”

”Then, dear Sir Bevis--how kind it is of you to forgive me, dear Sir Bevis; when I am dead do not nail me to the door--only think how terrible that would be--bury me, dear.”

”So I will,” said Bevis; ”but perhaps you needn't die. Stay a little while, and let us see if you cannot live.”