Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 201: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

203 mn a LLL LL ee ee eee there'll be some harm come to I, I’m afraid, V’ll| [Bebe op CDOOKS.G go and tell farmer all about it, and let he come and see for hisself. Dang it! if I shan’t expect to hear it talk another time, as well as see it move.” Anxious as Jack had been to avoid the man, he could not resist any opportunity for a bit of fun, and he called out— ‘Don’t go yet, chawbaeon ! ” The man no sooner heard this, than he gave : bound backwards of at least half-a-dozen eet. ‘“Lawks! alive !”’ he gasped. “ There’s an evil spirit in it.” ‘“‘ What's the price of hay ?” asked Jack in a hollow voice, still keeping his head bent behind the figure. “Ha—a—y?” gasped the man, in utter terror, aud seemingly now powerless to move from his new position. “Yes, hay, stupid. What is it a load? Mind what you are doing there, trampling down the corn. Don’t you know I’m placed here to guard it ? ”’ : “Go—o—d gra—ora—cious!”’’- cried the man. ‘‘ J—it beats me, The—the devil’s init.” “That’s true, chawbacon. How do you find yourself this morning?” said Jack, bobbing up his head over that of the scarecrow, and nodding at the countryman. “O—o—h! oh! oh!” trembled on the man’s lips, and he shook his hands before him, and his knees knocked together in horror. “Glad to see you, my friend,” said Jack. ‘““I—I bean’t glad to see you,” gasped the man. ‘‘Go—go away.” — “'That’s unkind,” said Jack. j SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROR oF LONDON. “T thought you -would be happy to make my acquaintance.”’ “ No—no—no! ” “| thought you would. I heard you singing so merrily that I quite took a fancy to you,” said Jack. And as he spoke, he drew up the stake out of the ground to which the fastened, and moved towards the countryman, still holding the effigy before him. “Yes, ve taken a violent fancy to you,” continued Jack. This was too much for the man—and under ordinary circumstances he was no coward—for seeing the object approach him, he uttered a loud cry of terror, and turning, fled over the field, trampling down the young blades of corn in his course, at atertific pace, yelling and shout- ing as he went with all the strength of his lungs. ‘“Measter! measter ! here’s the devil in the scarecrow! Here’s the devil in the scarecrow, and all the crops will be ruined !” Jack could not repress his laughter as he gazed after the man, who ran us perhaps he had never ran before, taking the shortest course over the field towards a farmhouse whose gables glistenedin the morning sun. Jack did not attempt to move away from the scarecrow till the man had got fairly out of the cornfield; then, forcing the stake into the ground, and taking a parting look at the effigy, he made his way to the path, taking care to do as little injury to the corn as possible. scarecrow Was’ Haying reached this, he continued along it in the direction of a large ‘and verdant meadow, where a number of cows were located, without any further interruption, smiling, as he went, at the game he had played upon the countryman, and wondering what would be thought of his story at the farmhouse. CHAPTER LXxX. JACK ALARMS THE MILKMAID—A HARD RUN AND HARDER FIGHT—TRAPPED IN HIS OWN TRAP— THE ESCAPE. JACK soon reached the meadow, which, like a huge carpet of emerald green, stretched away for some distance. From this he had a good view of the farm- house, and its various outbuildings, but his attention was now more particularly attracted by a group of half-a-dozen cows, which had been called together to be milked. : At the side of one, seated on a three-legged stool, with a wooden pail between her knees, was afresh-looking, ruddy-faced damsel, engaged in the operation of milking, lightening her labours with the burden of an old and favourite ditty, which rang out clear on the morning air. We have said Jack was an admirer of nature, and human nature also came in for its share. here was something pleasing to him in the sight of the young woman sitting at her morning task, and carolling away in a not unmusical tone. He could not but contrast her fresh, rosy cheeks and robust appearance with that of some of the high-born dames of his acquaintance. Certainly many of those had cheeks with the bloom of the rose, but then he knew it was arti- ficial—not the natural glow of health. True, many were beautiful—when not in deésha- bille ; but few could boast of the beauty of her on whom he now gazed. With a form suffered to expand to its proper dimensions, and a carriage easy and graceful— not made so by the art of the corset maker—and with smooth, glossy hair parted over a broad, intelligent forehead, Jack thought her the beau zdeal of that beauty intended by its Maker, and not to be enhanced by all those artificial appli- ances so commonly used by those of a higher station. ) “Beauty unadorned is adorned the most,” thought Jack, as, unobserved, he watched the movements of her tingers; “and V’d wager her manners are as prepossessing as her person. [ll beg a drink of milk from her, and if she gives it not with a smile and a blush, I am no judge of womanhood; andif she does, as [ am sure she will, she shall not lack the coins to purchase a holiday dress.” | And thus muttering to himself, he made towards her. So accustomed as he had become to wearing his mask, he quite forgot that he had not re- moved it from his face—a circumstance unfortu- nate for both himself and the blooming milk- maid. With a light step he neared her, but occupied with her labours she neither heard nor saw his approach. | A>»