第9章 Andy Page's Rival(2)

But now, to his helpless surprise, Andy went on scraping the earth from the surface with his long-handled shovel, and heaping it conscientiously round the butt of the post, his face like a block of wood, and his lips set grimly. Dave broke out first (with bush oaths):

"What's the matter with you? Spit it out! What have I been doin' to you?

What's yer got yer rag out about, anyway?"

Andy faced him suddenly, with hatred for "funny business" flashing in his eyes.

"What did you say to my sister Mary about Lizzie Porter?"

Dave started; then he whistled long and low. "Spit it all out, Andy!" he advised.

"You said she was travellin' with a feller!"

"Well, what's the harm in that? Everybody knows that --"

"If any crawler says a word about Lizzie Porter -- look here, me and you's got to fight, Dave Bentley!" Then, with still greater vehemence, as though he had a share in the garment: "Take off that coat!"

"Not if I know it!" said Dave, with the sudden quietness that comes to brave but headstrong and impulsive men at a critical moment:

"Me and you ain't goin' to fight, Andy; and" (with sudden energy)

"if you try it on I'll knock you into jim-rags!"

Then, stepping close to Andy and taking him by the arm:

"Andy, this thing will have to be fixed up. Come here;

I want to talk to you." And he led him some paces aside, inside the boundary line, which seemed a ludicrously unnecessary precaution, seeing that there was no one within sight or hearing save Dave's horse.

"Now, look here, Andy; let's have it over. What's the matter with you and Lizzie Porter?"

"I'M travellin' with her, that's all; and we're going to get married in two years!"

Dave gave vent to another long, low whistle. He seemed to think and make up his mind.

"Now, look here, Andy: we're old mates, ain't we?"

"Yes; I know that."

"And do you think I'd tell you a blanky lie, or crawl behind your back?

Do you? Spit it out!"

"N--no, I don't!"

"I've always stuck up for you, Andy, and -- why, I've fought for you behind your back!"

"I know that, Dave."

"There's my hand on it!"

Andy took his friend's hand mechanically, but gripped it hard.

"Now, Andy, I'll tell you straight: It's Gorstruth about Lizzie Porter!"

They stood as they were for a full minute, hands clasped;

Andy with his jaw dropped and staring in a dazed sort of way at Dave.

He raised his disengaged hand helplessly to his thatch, gulped suspiciously, and asked in a broken voice:

"How -- how do you know it, Dave?"

"Know it? Andy, I SEEN 'EM MESELF!"

"You did, Dave?" in a tone that suggested sorrow more than anger at Dave's part in the seeing of them.

"Gorstruth, Andy!"

. . . . .

"Tell me, Dave, who was the feller? That's all I want to know."

"I can't tell you that. I only seen them when I was canterin' past in the dusk."

"Then how'd you know it was a man at all?"

"It wore trousers, anyway, and was as big as you; so it couldn't have been a girl. I'm pretty safe to swear it was Mick Kelly.

I saw his horse hangin' up at Porter's once or twice.

But I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll find out for you, Andy.

And, what's more, I'll job him for you if I catch him!"

Andy said nothing; his hands clenched and his chest heaved.

Dave laid a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"It's red hot, Andy, I know. Anybody else but you and I wouldn't have cared.

But don't be a fool; there's any Gorsquantity of girls knockin' round.

You just give it to her straight and chuck her, and have done with it.

You must be bad off to bother about her. Gorstruth! she ain't much to look at anyway! I've got to ride like blazes to catch the coach.

Don't knock off till I come back; I won't be above an hour.

I'm goin' to give you some points in case you've got to fight Mick; and I'll have to be there to back you!" And, thus taking the right moment instinctively, he jumped on his horse and galloped on towards the town.

His dust-cloud had scarcely disappeared round a corner of the paddocks when Andy was aware of another one coming towards him. He had a dazed idea that it was Dave coming back, but went on digging another post-hole, mechanically, until a spring-cart rattled up, and stopped opposite him.

Then he lifted his head. It was Lizzie herself, driving home from town.