The Lady of the Barge - W. W. Jacobs (speld decodable readers .txt) 📗

one or two rabbits. John Biggs and George Kettle wanted for to stay there till it was dark, but the others wouldn’t ’ear of it for fear of frightening their wives, and just as it was getting dark they all come tramp, tramp, back to the Cauliflower agin.

“Smith stood ’em ’arf a pint apiece, and they was all outside ’ere fancying theirselves a bit for wot they’d done when we see old man Parsley coming along on two sticks as fast as ’e could come.

“ ‘Are you brave lads a-looking for the tiger?’ he asks.

“ ‘Yes,’ ses John Biggs.

“ ‘Then ’urry up, for the sake of mercy,’ ses old Mr. Parsley, putting ’is ’and on the table and going off into a fit of coughing; ‘it’s just gone into Bob Pretty’s cottage. I was passing and saw it.’

“George Kettle snatches up ’is gun and shouts out to ’is men to come along. Some of ’em was for ’anging back at first, some because they didn’t like the tiger and some because they didn’t like Bob Pretty, but John Biggs drove ’em in front of ’im like a flock o’ sheep and then they gave a cheer and ran after George Kettle, full pelt up the road.

“A few wimmen and children was at their doors as they passed, but they took fright and went indoors screaming. There was a lamp in Bob Pretty’s front room, but the door was closed and the ’ouse was silent as the grave.

“George Kettle and the men with the guns went first, then came the pitchforks, and last of all the scythes. Just as George Kettle put ’is ’and on the door he ’eard something moving inside, and the next moment the door opened and there stood Bob Pretty.

“ ‘What the dickens!’ ’e ses, starting back as ’e see the guns and pitchforks pointing at ’im.

“ ’Ave you killed it, Bob?’ ses George Kettle.

“ ‘Killed wot?’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘Be careful o’ them guns. Take your fingers off the triggers.’

“ ‘The tiger’s in your ’ouse, Bob,’ ses George Kettle, in a whisper. ‘ ’Ave you on’y just come in?’

“ ‘Look ’ere,’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘I don’t want any o’ your games. You go and play ’em somewhere else.’

“ ‘It ain’t a game,’ ses John Biggs; ‘the tiger’s in your ’ouse and we’re going to kill it. Now, then, lads.’

“They all went in in a ’eap, pushing Bob Pretty in front of ’em, till the room was full. Only one man with a scythe got in, and they wouldn’t ’ave let ’im in if they’d known. It a’most made ’em forget the tiger for the time.

“George Kettle opened the door wot led into the kitchen, and then ’e sprang back with such a shout that the man with the scythe tried to escape, taking Henery Walker along with ’im. George Kettle tried to speak, but couldn’t. All ’e could do was to point with ’is finger at Bob Pretty’s kitchen⁠—and Bob Pretty’s kitchen was for all the world like a pork-butcher’s shop. There was joints o’ pork ’anging from the ceiling, two brine tubs as full as they could be, and quite a string of fowls and ducks all ready for market.

“ ‘Wot d’ye mean by coming into my ’ouse?’ ses Bob Pretty, blustering. ‘If you don’t clear out pretty quick, I’ll make you.’

“Nobody answered ’im; they was all examining ’ands o’ pork and fowls and suchlike.

“ ‘There’s the tiger,’ ses Henery Walker, pointing at Bob Pretty; ‘that’s wot old man Parsley meant.’

“ ‘Somebody go and fetch Policeman White,’ ses a voice.

“ ‘I wish they would,’ ses Bob Pretty. ‘I’ll ’ave the law on you all for breaking into my ’ouse like this, see if I don’t.’

“ ‘Where’d you get all this pork from?’ ses the blacksmith.

“ ‘And them ducks and hins?’ ses George Kettle.

“ ‘That’s my bisness,’ ses Bob Pretty, staring ’em full in the face. ‘I just ’ad a excellent oppertunity offered me of going into the pork and poultry line and I took it. Now, all them as doesn’t want to buy any pork or fowls go out o’ my house.’

“ ‘You’re a thief, Bob Pretty!’ says Henery Walker. ‘You stole it all.’

“ ‘Take care wot you’re saying, Henery,’ ses Bob Pretty, ‘else I’ll make you prove your words.’

“ ‘You stole my pig,’ ses Herbert Smith.

“ ‘Oh, ’ave I?’ ses Bob, reaching down a ’and o’ pork. ‘Is that your pig?’ he ses.

“ ‘It’s just about the size o’ my pore pig,’ ses Herbert Smith.

“ ‘Very usual size, I call it,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘and them ducks and hins very usual-looking hins and ducks, I call ’em, except that they don’t grow ’em so fat in these parts. It’s a fine thing when a man’s doing a honest bisness to ’ave these charges brought agin ’im. Dis’eartening, I call it. I don’t mind telling you that the tiger got in at my back winder the other night and took arf a pound o’ sausage, but you don’t ’ear me complaining and going about calling other people thieves.’

“ ‘Tiger be hanged,’ ses Henery Walker, who was almost certain that a loin o’ pork on the table was off ’is pig; ‘you’re the only tiger in these parts.’

“Why, Henery,’ ses Bob Pretty, ‘wot are you a-thinkin’ of? Where’s your memory? Why, it’s on’y two or three days ago you see it and ’ad to get up a tree out of its way.’

“He smiled and shook ’is ’ead at ’im, but Henery Walker on’y kept opening and shutting ’is mouth, and at last ’e went outside without saying a word.

“ ‘And Sam Jones see it, too,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘didn’t you, Sam?’

“Sam didn’t answer ’im.

“ ‘And Charlie Hall and Jack Minns and a lot more,’ ses Bob; ‘besides, I see it myself. I can believe my own eyes, I s’pose?’

“ ‘We’ll have the law on you,’ ses Sam Jones.

“ ‘As you like,’ ses Bob Pretty; ‘but I tell you plain, I’ve got all the bills for this properly made out, upstairs. And there’s pretty near a dozen of you as’ll ’ave to go in the box and swear as you saw the tiger. Now, can I