Tricks of the Trade

"Come 'ere." Pye motioned the boy to move closer. He didn't want there to be anyone who could hear, though he knew men who did it as well. Some with more and some with less success. "There's different places yer can hide it. Places that do not appear to be meant ter hold yer coin or yer buttons or summat. Your sister sews, n' if you don't know that already.. it is very wise yer learn it." He smiled.

"T' lasses have it easy sometimes. Couse there's even more decency that they can claim fer." He murmured, dropping his voice now. "N' more fabric ter conceal it all, really. See, t' inner skirts, t' pockets that're hidden. You wouldn't let a man look under a skirt jus' under a suspicion. Ain't right that." He looked about and shrugged. "'depends wot' shape of goods yer have. flatt'uh can go 'ere." He nudged his own coat very subtly as if adjusting the way it stood in. A quieter chirping was heard from his bag, the little creature at last awaking.

Davy advanced close to Pye, putting his head together with the older lad's to listen carefully and watch what he was doing. Secret pockets? Davy supposed he could try to sew those in; he'd ask Lucy to do it but if she found out what it was for - and it wouldn't be real hard to guess - she would have a cat and kittens. He'd never really bothered learning to sew, but it didn't look like it could be that difficult. "Canna be te hard, leik," he said, optimistically. He could borrow needle and thread from Lucy's workbasket.

"Ah'm nivvor wearin' skirts," Davy said suspiciously, not sure if that was what Pye was driving at. He assumed, however, that the lad wasn't suggesting that Davy did dress up as a girl - because he'd better not be! And went on. "So, coin an' sichleik, here an' here where they isn' leik to be seen bulgin'?"

The slight chirping sound, and rustling from Pye's bag, awakened Davy's curiosity, pulling his attention away from the potential hiding places in a coat. "What's tha'?" he inquired, trying to look into the bag.

"No, you don' need to. You jus' use wot' yer have, but yer got t' jist of it. Right enough. Where it ain't bulgin' or is proper hidden , aye. Always think that way. Or rather think t' way a provos' would. Meanin'. .if you was one, where would yo go n' look. N' then jus' don't leave yer things there. If yer not under suspicion, yer usually safe. N' never ye tell yer friends where ye have it..less anyone who yer jus' know. " The boy knew that probably, he was smart enough. "Jus' so they can't go lookin' for it.. or rattin' you out."

He glanced at his breadbag at the boy's inquiry and smiled. "That's m' chick." He murmured and reached into the bag carefully, bringing the little thing out. "Got it jus' recently. Here, see it better now?" He opened his palm, the little creature studying Davy curiously and chirping then pecking at Pye's fingers as if to remind him, she had to eat soon!

"Aye," Davy nodded. He knew that already. Well - he'd be fine telling his friends, like Pye, where it was, but not others, and not even Lucy, either.

He watched the breadbag, curiously, as Pye rooted about in it; it sounded like there was something alive in there. Then Pye's hands came out carefully cupped around something, and Davy leaned in to peer at them; he caught a glimpse of something yellow and fluffy - the fingers curled open to reveal a small chicken. It chirped at him, and ruffled its feathers.

"Is't dinner?" Davy asked, eagerly. It wasn't very big; there was not much meat on its bones of course, but...

"Dinner? No!" Pye said sharply and pulled his chick closer to himself. He relaxed a little and shook his head. "No. This is Peggie. She ain't for eating. She's fer growin' up n' givin' us eggs. But you ain't going to have her fer dinner. Or anyone." He gently pet the little creature on the head. "She's a brave thing." The chick chirped in reply , fluffing herself up so that she looked or rather thought she looked big and intimidating.

Some disappointment showed on Davy's face when Pye said firmly that the chick was not, in fact, for dinner. But the promise of eggs later on was enough to help make up for it. "Ye'll let us hev a one every noo an' agyen?" Davy said, the disappointment lifting away.

"An' then when she canna lay ne mair, then is't chicken dinner," he said, satisfied.

"No, when she canna lay ne mair.." He imitated the boy's manner of talk. "then she's gonna live ter be our pet till she canna beat ne mair provosts n' passes.. " He ruffled the lad's hair. "If'n you think her all as food, I don't know if she will want ter share any of 'er eggs with you." The chick looked disinterested in the boy and got up rather to walk about on her owner's hand.

She stopped at the edge of it, chirped turned about, lifted her bottom and relieved herself on the floor. Satisfied with this she hopped of the hand onto Pye's thigh and walked up to his knee. There she looked down wondering how to get off.

Davy knew that when Pye deliberately imitated his dialect - even though Davy couldn't pull off a better accent, he could still hear the difference - the older lad was making fun of him, and he scowled slightly. However, his face lightened as Pye introduced the chick as his pet, and he looked curiously at the little fluffy creature. It - she? - didn't seem to want to come near him, particularly, preferring her owner's company to his. Maybe she had understood what he said.

"She's a pet? Is she wor pet an aa' too?" Davy said, peering at the little thing. He'd only had a pet once before, and he didn't get to keep her for long. It seemed a little odd to him to have a chicken as a pet, but he supposed the little bird was...sort of appealing. If it wasn't meant to be food. "Ah had us a kitten once, but tha' gowk Miggsy Kemble drooned her."

"She's a pet, right enough. That's why she won't be eaten, nor harmed by any'one any'ow." The chick still observed Davy with a look of distrust. She had just decided that she did not want to fall to the floor from that high, even if she would've bounced of like all little chicks could, and instead went up the rifleman's thigh chirping insistingly to be helped down by her owner.

"If'n she's your pet too?" He hadn't considered that, but the little chick would be well with another quick mind and hand to protect it. "Sure." He smiled. If Davy could take care of her when Pye was out there fighting sometimes too. " Can be, but it's a real duty with 'er then. When she be with you. No eatin' her, as firs' rule.. feedin' 'er.. makin' sure she got water. You think you could do it?" Davy wouldn't be burdened with taking care of the chick, but if he could supply an earth worm or two, an insect or bug, it would only benefit them. She was a riflechick though, through and through.

Davy nodded solemnly. "Ah knaas what is't leik, takin' care o' a pet. Ah looked after wor kitten, reet good." He had, too; he'd made sure she had milk, and fish, like she was supposed to; it had taken some doing to find what he believed were all the right things for a kitten. It wasn't his fault Miggsy was a bigger lad, and had a mean streak the size of the Tyne.

"Ah'll not eat her. Honour bright," Davy swore, looking at the little chick, and holding out his fingers to the creature, palm-upwards and hoping that she'd step up onto it. "Mevvies she'll let me hold her now?"

"Wot' yer need ter learn good fightin' fer then. Couse if'n you got him beat up, he won't be hurtin' none that belongs to ye." He observed the small animal make those tentative steps towards Davy. She didn't exactly trust him yet, but encouraged by lack of protest from Pye, she moved closer and then pecked at Davy's finger. Did it again, a bit harder and then hopped onto the palm.

She puffed herself up to appear much bigger and looked at the boy as if to dare him to try anything. "Wot 'd ye do to Miggsy later?"

Davy winced when the bird pecked his finger, but he kept his hand out there, bravely; he winced again when she did harder, and almost drew it away, but then felt small feet land in his palm. He drew his hands a little closer, to look at the chick, and the tiny beady bright eyes that regarded him out of an even larger and fluffier ball of feathers than before. "Ye're sort o' bonny," he said to the chick, then looked up at Pye.

"Nowt," he answered. "Nowt Ah could de. Ye didn't mess wi' Miggsy. He were leik yer Sergeant in 33rd, ye knaas, only he were smaller."

Pye nodded curtly. If Hakeswill wasn't so smart and so lucky, if he hadn't the power that he did, and wasn't as observant, he might've gone and pounded the living daylights out of him. But instead he was somewhat afraid of the man. Hateful more, but certainly convinced to hold his distance if he could. Now even more as he was in the rifles and it seemed that it was just one more thing that that man hated more.

The chick chirped and opened her tiny beak, demanding to be fed. She did that more often than she needed to, thinking though that most strangers that Pye was comfortable around, would be laden with food for herself. Like a little queen chick that was given to meet her servants.

"Stay away from that sergeant, Davy. And keep Lucy from him too." The man was notorious in harming the lasses, and blackmailing those that were married. Nobody spoke of it much, the officers thought him a great speciment of soldiery, but only because he knew best how to play their tune. "Tole you 'afore, that. But swear It ain't never too many times. ..." And after a moment. "...well this Miggsy.. ain't here is he? "

"What's she wantin'?" Davy asked as the chick opened her beak and chirped loudly at him. Her tone was insistent, almost demanding, but he wasn't sure if she was just angry at him and insulting him in chick language, or hungry, or what. "Ye div telt me afore. Ah divvent gan near him, an' - an' Ah'd not let Lucy near him nither. Not if Ah cud help it." He frowned at Pye. "Ah looks after her the best Ah can."

Davy paused for a moment. "Ne. Miggsy's back i' the Toon, him. An' Ah'm reet glad o' it."

"Think she's hungry. She's always loud when she odes it.. n' she don't need ter complain when she needs ter relieve hesself. She jus' does it." He smiled at the chick which searched Davy's palm for any food that might have materialized there and upon not finding it returned to her insistent chirping.

"S' good to know he ain't here. N' if t' army did get him, he might not be here either.. won't ." He added with a stretch. "Look 'ere. When she be with you n' if I perchance ain't. " If things did get for the worse as he suspected they might. "Yer can always come ter t' rifles n' say you's know me n' all n' if you needs summat .. you just ask them , ok? Same if Lucy gets in any mess, n' is over yer head. T' lads there are real fine.. jus' as Wilton, they'll know ter help." He hoped. The 33rd could possibly take care of their own, but their officers were much to aspire to, whereas he knew for certain that Vickery deserved his title and praise.

Davy looked sideways at the bird, while it nibbled at his hand. Was it trying to eat him? It had better not be, though it wasn't pecking very hard. "What de she munch on?" he asked, poking the chick's feathers cautiously with a finger before stroking it. It was soft, a lot warmer than he thought a bird would be.

"Ah'll bear tha' i' mind," he said to the other. He wasn't sure he'd take Pye up on the offer, if Davy ended up in trouble; he'd not drag anyone else into a mess with him! But if Lucy did...that would be a different matter. Not that Lucy got in trouble much. "Whee's Ah supposed to ask fer there, yer marras?"

"She'll eat anythin' from insects, bugs,ter earth worms, then t' grub .. uh .." He shrugged and continued with the list, naming everything that he could remember and was told was ok. "And hands of lads like you." He concluded innocently. The little chick looked rather happy at being petted and settled down in the boy's palm again, though she still made an infrequent demand for a feed.

"Yer do the askin' to Cotton like, n' Newbury. Not maybe the Germans. "There were some he did not trust, but that was all because of the past experiences and talk where Hakeswill eagerly contributed.

"Anythin' yer want particularly t' learn t'day?" He asked and leaned comfortably back.

Davy made a face at Pye when the older lad said the chick ate hands. That wasn't possible; the chick had no teeth nor anything to really tear him up! He thought she could probably peck pretty hard if she wanted to, but probably she couldn't break the skin, and anyway everyone knew chickens didn't eat people. He handed the chick to Pye, to return it, though; he wasn't sure he wanted to try digging up bugs for it right now.

"Show us..." Davy considered carefully for a moment. "That thin' ye does wi' a coin an' yer fingers, where i' walks on the top. An' hoo te mek i' disappear an' come back an' aa'." Not, perhaps, obviously related to the work that Pye taught him sometimes, but sleight-of-hand was all part of getting your fingers real nimble and quick. And besides, it could impress people, sometimes.

"You mean this?" Pye asked and as he brought the coin from his pocket, showed the lad how it looked when it was done properly. "Why'd ye want ter learn that? A girl you want impressin'?" He grinned at the boy, as it was only a tease. "Couse I need ter warn you. It ain't an easy and quick thing to learn."

Davy scowled at Pye. "It's nowt leik tha'!" he said, sharply, denying it strenously even though he realised after a moment that his friend was only teasing. "There's nary a lass i' the whole encampment is warth lookin' a' nohow." He folded his arms. "Ah just want te knaa how. Te mek wor fingers quicker, an' ye knaas...if Ah ever did want te impress someone!"

"Yer standards are sure high then lad. Ain't likin' a single lass in t' camp... not even a little? A tiny bit?" He teased. "Well, 'ere you go. so you want ter see how ter make things not be seen, or how ter make 'em travel 'round yer knuckles like they was swimming?" He arched a brow. "Couse that ain't one and t' same thing, n' there's more n' them anyway. " He seemed to have an empty hand, till he shifted his fingers and a coin appeared in them. It took him another swipe of his hand and the coin was gone again.

"Now.. 'fore I forget ter tell yer again. Yer only take money from those who's...feelin' like they'll not notice, like they's pray. Never go n' take things from someone just couse. There's plenty enough reckless men. Plenty enough." He paused. "There's several sort o' ways ter do this.. one, yer distract a man ter look t' other way then where t' real action is goin' on.., two, is ther make yer hand appear flat n' empty, when it's not..." He mentioned a few more, before turning quiet and just showing the boy by example.

Davy's scowl darkened, and he didn't drop the barrier he'd created with his arms. "Not us!" he said, loftily. "Ah've got standards, aye, an' they divnae measure up, nane o' them!" He kept his arms folded, intending to ward off any further questioning down these lines, even while he watched Pye's hands intently as he demonstrated the tricks he could do with a coin. He'd seen these before, which was how he knew Pye could do them, but Pye was too fast. Davy had never been able to figure out how.

"Ah can palm them," Davy answered, "well an' good, bu' Ah divvent ken hoo te make them just appear leik tha'. Leik magic an' all. An' Ah want te ken hoo te make it walk on wor knuckles te boot." He finally lowered his arms and leaned in closer to look from different angles at what Pye was doing. "Ah'll gan canny," he added impatiently to Pye's warnings not to be reckless, waving his hand dismissively. "Ah elwis gan canny."

He took out one of his own coins and tried to mimic what Pye was doing.

Pye grinned and paused. "Well , a'right. Let's start with summat easy.. as t' knuckle walk." He took the coin in palm then shifted it to his thumb. He paused waited for the boy to do the same. He placed his other hand's forefinger to point to where the coin was supposed to appear, and explained simply: "It'll only pick up in speed with practice.. but t' jist o' it is this... yer have yer knuckles at an.. um.. angle to the thumb, like this." And he showed it.

"An yer fingers are a.....this angle like, to the palm." He had them at 90 degrees to it. "N' now yer bend them at t' knuckle here, so yer kind of holdin' them in a fist." Sure he could've just said that at first. "Now.. yer start of with yer thumb. But only as it's holding t' coin between yer first and second finger, like this." Easy slow showing really. "Lift yer third.. um middle finger now, so it'll snag t' coin. That will make it shift and flip. Yer lower t' middle finger.. raise t' second one.. it moves onwards.. an' you do t' same with the rest. But wait when yer get t' the last one, ok?"

Davy stared at Pye; the other lad was far smarter than him, that was for sure. "Whee's an angle go' te de wi' i'?" he said blankly. "Ane of them fowk wi' wings an' a halo an' aa'? Isnae tha' caa'ed an anjel?" He had no idea what business an angel had knuckle-walking a coin, though the rest of what Pye had said had made sense.

In the meantime, he tried imitating the movement that Pye had done, regardless of the angels.

Pye looked at Davy having trouble understanding where the lad had found an angel in his explanation, but instead of trying to pinpoint the creature, he made sure to show how the hand should be, beginning, middle, and end of the movement of his hand. "They can be with wings aye, but I ain't talkin' about that. I's talkin' about.. this.. how you hold your hand at all times. Jus' look here. If you give it a bit of a ... well not 'olding it in a straight line, but 'aving one side tipped up and one up.. you'll 'elp the coin go down easier, see?" He showed what he meant and smiled.

"But it does take lots o' practice, lad, so don' be discouraged if t' coin looks like it don't want to cooperate at all with you. ..n'.. it should be that size of it too. too small, n' it ain't easy ter do anymore either!"