But in that predicament I heard Joe Punchard whistling, through the
open door of the shop where he did 'prentice work for old Matthew
Mark, the cooper. I knew Joe well; he had often brought barrels to
our farm, and once or twice on my way home from school I had gone
into the shop and watched him at his work.
Now, as a fox when the hounds are in full cry behind him will run
for shelter into any likely place that offers, so I, hard pressed
as I was, rushed panting into the shop, too breathless at first to
explain my need.
"Hallo! What's this!" cried Joe, who was just rolling down his
sleeves before closing work for the day. "What be the matter,
Master Bold? You be all of a sweat and puffing like to burst."
"They're after me! Keep 'em off, Joe!" I gasped.
"After you, be they! Some of your schoolmates worriting of you, eh?
Don't be afeared, lad. I be just going home, and I'll see you safe
to Bridge.
"Ah! there they be," he added, as my pursuers appeared in the
doorway.
"Good afternoon to you, and what might you be pleased to want?"
"Out of the road, Joe Punchard!" cries Cludde, walking into the
shop. "I'll teach that little beast to run away."
And he came forward to where I stood, sheltering myself behind
Joe's thick-set body.
"Bide a minute," says Joe, lurching so as to shield me. "What ha'
Master Bold bin doin' to you?"
"What's that to you?" says Cyrus Vetch, edging round him on the
other side. "He's a young sneak, that's what he is, and wants a
good basting, and he'll get it, too.
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