CHAPTER XXVII

THE RACE, AND HOW IT ENDED.

THE crowd came streaming out of the back streets of the village, not less than twenty or thirty men and boys, some intent on joining in the chase, while the rest were actuated only by an eager desire to witness the sport. It was not often that the lees of life in the quiet Basin were stirred by so exciting an incident as the locking up of a court-room full of town officials and idle spectators, and the escape of a prisoner; and it was natural that a lively interest should be felt in the end of the little romance.

About half the crowd, thinking Duffer had received a terrible wound in the head (mistaking the yolk of the egg for blood), ran down to the pond-side, where they found a large flock of geese already gathered about him, hissing and cackling at him, with outstretched necks, in a noisy and vivacious fashion, while he scraped and washed himself, and with occasional angry dashes tried to drive them away. The rest of the crowd followed Jack; and soon those who had drawn near the disabled combatant, perceiving the comical character of his injuries, turned laughing away, with the geese, and hurried to enjoy the more exciting scene at the waste-gate.

Among Jack’s pursuers was one who, although a little later at the start than many, soon by diligent use of his legs and arms worked his way into the foremost rank, and at last took the lead. This was Sellick. If not absolutely the best runner of the crowd, he had certainly the best reasons for running. He had not only lost a prisoner, but lost him under peculiar and ludicrous circumstances. And although the jolly constable was a great joker himself, he did not surpassingly relish a joke of which he was the victim. He was well aware that the fact of his having been outgeneralled by a boy would be cherished as a standing jest against him as long as he lived; but if he could retort, that he secured the runaway, and after all took him to jail, that would be some comfort. So he put forth his strength, and tried the speed of his limbs; doing then and there such extraordinary running, in the sight of the huzzaing and laughing villagers, that it passed into a proverb, and I remember hearing many years after an old farmer say of a cow that once got away from him as he was leading her home, “She run like Sellick arter Jack Hazard!”

Much of the huzzaing, I am happy to record, was for Jack. Men naturally sympathize with the weaker party in a struggle, provided they have no personal interest in it. Peternot was by no means popular; few cared for Sellick, except as a wag, whom it was fun to see circumvented; while, on the other hand, there was a general feeling that Jack, by his shrewdness and spirit, well deserved his freedom. So those who were first in the chase finally gave it up, and fell back as spectators, leaving to the constable alone the glory of recapturing his prisoner.

“Go it, little one! Put in, limber legs!” came to Jack’s ears across the corner of the pond, with many an encouraging shout and loud laugh. “Streak it! leg it! You’ll win!”

But there were many remarks of a less cheering nature, which he did not hear.

“It’s no use! Sellick ’ll have him ’fore he gets to the waste-wear!” said a shoemaker who had just left his bench and run out with his leather apron on.

“If he could only cross the waste-wear and pull up the plank behind him!” observed the tavern-keeper.

“He can’t do that; plank is spiked down,” replied a young journeyman carpenter. “But he might pitch Sellick off as he goes to cross after him,—if he only had a long pole!”

“He’s about beat out; see how Sellick gains on him!” cried Byron Dinks, clapping his hands. “He’ll have him! he’ll have him!”

“I declare, it seems too bad!” said Deacon Chatford, coming down to the shore. “Poor Jack! he has said so much about having a chance for himself, and now!”

“He has no chance with Sellick!” exclaimed Byron Dinks, gleefully. “He’s got him! He’s headed him off! He’s—Oh!”

The deacon echoed, “Oh!” and the throng of spectators broke forth in a chorus of excited oh’s and ah’s, and other exclamations of astonishment.

What had happened was this.

Jack, finding himself no match for the constable, believed that his only hope lay in reaching the canal and crossing to the tow-path. Being a good swimmer, he might gain some slight advantage by that manœuvre; while it seemed quite impossible for him to escape over the waste-wear. He reached the embankment, and went panting and staggering up the steep side; while Sellick mounted easily a rod or two nearer the village, and was at the top before him. This movement drove Jack on towards the waste-wear; but Sellick, it was plain to see, would be there first also.

“You run well, sonny!” laughed the constable; “but you’re beat!”

“Not yet!” Jack cried. And, attempting to run back down the embankment, he found himself on a steep and dangerous place over the culvert.

“Give up, give up, sonny!” said Sellick, working carefully down towards him from the top of the embankment. “Come! then we’ll go to the grocery and have another drink of milk, ’fore we take that little ride together. I guess we can find some better milk this time! Look out! you’ll fall!”

“I don’t care if I do!” exclaimed Jack, groping farther and farther down, as the constable ventured nearer. “Before I’ll let you take me—”

At that moment his foot appeared to slip; he seemed to make a feeble attempt to regain his hold, then, to avoid a dangerous fall, he threw himself clear of the masonry, and tumbled headlong into the water. It was the fall and the splash that drew forth the aforesaid exclamations from the spectators.

Sellick ran back to a safe place, and descended quickly to the edge of the pond, just in time to see Jack come up once, gasp, turn heavily in the water, and sink again. The jolly man was serious for once.

“Help!” he called. “I vum, the boy is drownding!”

There was a great rush to the spot; but, as is usually the case at such times, nobody seemed to know what to do. Some cried, “Bring a rope!” others, “Get a pole!” but neither pole nor rope was brought; nor would either have been of the least use, as the event proved.

Jack had fallen in deep water at a distance of several yards from any standing-place near the culvert. It was the intention to reach out something for him to lay hold of when he should rise in sight again. But, strange to say, good swimmer as he was, he did not reappear.

What had become of him we shall perhaps learn in the course of a chapter or two.