Me and Nobbles | Page 6

the bushes were thick and high. Keeping well under cover, he reached the kitchen garden, and heard his baffled uncle take a wrong turn into the rose walk that stretched across the front lawn. Breathless and excited, the child reached Tom.
'He's run after me. He was the hunter and I was a tiger in the jungle! I seed him when he couldn't see me, and I likes him!'
'Which of course you is bound to do,' was Tom's ready response. 'Master Mortimer allays twisted most folk round his little finger.'
'I'll make him hunt me again,' said Bobby, a flush on his cheek and fire in his eye. 'He couldn't catch me, Tom. I won't be catched by him.'
'Master Mortimer allays used to do what he'd a mind to,' said old Tom again.
Bobby looked at him thoughtfully. He was beginning to be afraid of this uncle.
Chapter II.
'HE MAY COME TO-MORROW!'
That very same day in the afternoon Bobby was up in his apple-tree, when, to his consternation, he saw his uncle saunter into the orchard, shake hands with Tom, who was cutting the grass there, and begin an animated conversation with him. Bobby curled himself up well out of sight, and presumed upon his position, for when Mr. Mortimer came down to his corner and stopped for a moment under the tree, the little scamp again said, in as gruff a voice as he could assume:
'Have you seen mine father?'
In one second Mr. Mortimer's great long arm had shot up through the branches, and seized hold of one of Bobby's fat legs.
'Now, my little man, we'll meet each other face to face!'
Terror succeeded Bobby's audacity. He found himself on the ground, but, alas! in his rough descent Nobbles had been dashed from his grasp over the wall upon the high-road, and his anxiety over his darling's fate overcame his terror.
'Oh, save him! Oh, save mine Nobbles! Oh, he'll be hurt, he'll be run away with! Oh, please get Nobbles, and I'll never run away from you nevermore!'
Tears were crowding into his eyes as he spoke.
'Who's Nobbles?' asked the bewildered uncle.
'He's always lived with me for years--everlasting years!' repeated the troubled child. 'I couldn't live without him! Why, a big dog may eat him up, or a motor run over him! Oh, save him quick!'
It was Tom who understood and dashed through the gate at the far end of the orchard. In five minutes Nobbles was given into his hand, and a seraphic smile lit up his face as he hugged his treasure. His uncle did not smile. He sat down on one of the lowest limbs of the apple-tree and lit up his pipe.
'Is Nobbles fond of going off upon expeditions on his own account?' he asked gravely.
'Well, I hope he doesn't,' rejoined Bobby mysteriously. 'But I have my suspecs of him, acause I always make him sleep with his head on my pillow close to me, and two mornings I've found him on the floor, and once under the bed.'
'Ah,' said his uncle, shaking his head at Nobbles, 'I would quite believe it of him. You'll promise not to give him too hard a thrashing if I tell you where he was last night. He came into my room and had a fight with my old cricket bat. He got the worst of it, and went back to your nursery to get some help. He brought along a ninepin, and they fought two against one; the poor ninepin was nearly done for, and he rolled away under the bed and fainted. Then Nobbles slunk off and left him in the lurch. And this morning the young villain thinks he will play me a trick, so he put two marbles in my boots. He must have done that in the early hours before you were awake!'
Bobby's face was a study. Delight, horror, and confusion was depicted on it. He looked at Nobbles thoughtfully, then he announced:
'I didn't reely fight the cricket bat, I only felt him!'
'But I am talking of Nobbles.'
'He is wicked sometimes,' said Bobby, eyeing him wistfully, 'but I didded it all mine self to you.'
Then his uncle gave a hearty laugh.
'You and I are going to chum up,' he said, lifting him on the bough by his side. 'Now tell me more. I want to know you and Nobbles.'
Bobby's tongue was unloosed. For the first time in his short life he had found a grown-up person who did not consider him a nuisance. He poured out a strange medley into his astonished and amused uncle's ears. Imagination was much mixed up with fact, but the one theme that was the centre of the child's life was his absent father.
'I know he will come for me one day and take me away with himself! I finks every night when I'm in