Chapter Five.A Night of Anxiety.I looked in the direction from which the sounds came, but there was nothing visible, save the thick white fog, and in my excitement and horror, thinking I was looking in the wrong direction, I turned sharply round.White fog.I looked in another direction.White fog.Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hurried here and there with my hands extended, completely astray.It only took moments, swift moments, for all this to take place, and then I heard voices that I knew, but sounding muffled and as if a long way off.“Cob! Where are you, Cob?”“Here,” I shouted. “I’ll try and come.”“No, no!”—it was Uncle Jack who spoke—“don’t stir for your life.”“But,” I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was covered with a blanket, “I want to come to you.”“Stop where you are,” he cried. “I command you.”I stayed where I was, and the next moment a fresh voice cried to me, as if pitying my condition:“Cob, lad.”“Yes,” I cried.“There is a horrible precipice. Don’t stir.”It was Uncle Bob who said this to comfort me, and make me safe from running risks, but he made me turn all of a cold perspiration, and I stood there shivering, listening to the murmur of voices that came to me in a stifled way.At last I could bear it no longer. It seemed so strange. Only a minute or two ago we were all together on the top of a great hill admiring the prospect. Now we were separated. Then all seemed open and clear, and we were looking away for miles: now I seemed shut-in by this pale white gloom that stopped my sight, and almost my hearing, while it numbed and confused my faculties in a way that I could not have felt possible.“Uncle Jack!” I cried, as a sudden recollection came back of a cry I had heard.“He is not here,” cried Uncle Bob. “He is trying to find a way down.”“Where is Uncle Dick?”“Hush, boy! Don’t ask.”“But, uncle, I may come to you, may I not?” I cried, trembling with the dread of what had happened, for in spite of my confused state I realised now that Uncle Dick must have fallen.“My boy,” he shouted back, “I daren’t say yes. The place ends here in a terrible way. We two nearly went over, and I dare not stir, for I cannot see a yard from my feet. I am on a very steep slope too.”“But where has Uncle Jack gone then?”“Ahoy!” came from somewhere behind me, and apparently below.“Ahoy! Uncle Jack,” I yelled.“Ahoy, boy! I want to come to you. Keep shoutinghere—here—here.”I did as he bade me, and he kept answering me, and for a minute or two he seemed to be coming nearer. Then his voice sounded more distant, and more distant still; then ceased.“Cob, I can’t hear him,” came from near me out of the dense gloom. “Can you?”“No!” I said with a shiver.“Ahoy, Jack!” roared Uncle Bob.“Ahoy-oy!” came from a distance in a curiously stifled way.“Give it up till the fog clears off. Stand still.”There was no reply, and once more the terrible silence seemed to cling round me. The gloom increased, and I sank on my knees, not daring to stand now, but listening, if I may say so, with all my might.What had happened? What was going to happen? Were we to stay there all night in the darkness, shivering with cold and damp? Only a little while ago I had been tired and hot; now I did not feel the fatigue, but was shivering with cold, and my hands and face were wet.I wanted to call out to Uncle Bob again, but the sensation came over me—the strange, wild fancy that something had happened to him, and I dared not speak for fear of finding that it was true.All at once as I knelt there, listening intently for the slightest sound, I fancied I heard some one breathing. Then the sound stopped. Then it came nearer, and the dense mist parted, and a figure was upon me, crawling close by me without seeing me; and crying “Uncle Bob!” I started forward and caught at him as I thought. My hands seized moist wool for a moment, and then it was jerked out of my hands, as, with a frightenedBaa! Its wearer bounded away.“What’s that?” came from my left and below me, in the same old suffocated tone.“A sheep,” I cried, trembling with the start the creature had given me.“Did you see which way it went?”“Yes—beyond me.”“Then it must be safe your way, Cob. I’ll try and crawl to you, lad, but I’m so unnerved I can hardly make up my mind to stir.”“Let me come to you,” I cried.“No, no! I’ll try and get to you. Where are you?”“Here,” I cried.“All right!” came back in answer; but matters did not seem all right, for Uncle Bob’s voice suddenly seemed to grow more distant, and when I shouted to him my cry came back as if I had put my face against a wall and spoken within an inch or two thereof.“I think we’d better give it up, Cob,” he shouted now from somewhere quite different. “It is not safe to stir.”I did not think so, and determined to make an attempt to get to him.For, now that I had grown a little used to the fog, it did not seem so appalling, though it had grown thicker and darker till I seemed quite shut-in.“I’ll stop where I am, Cob,” came now as if from above me; “and I daresay in a short time the wind will rise.”I answered, but I felt as if I could not keep still. I had been scared by the sudden separation from my companions, but the startled feeling having passed away I did not realise the extent of our danger. In fact it seemed absurd for three strong men and a lad like me to be upset in this way by a mist.Uncle Dick had had a fall, but I would not believe it had been serious. Perhaps he had only slipped down some long slope.I crouched there in the darkness, straining my eyes to try and pierce the mist, and at last, unable to restrain my impatience, I began to crawl slowly on hands and knees in the direction whence my uncle’s voice seemed to come.I crept a yard at a time very carefully, feeling round with my hands before I ventured to move, and satisfying myself that the ground was solid all around.It seemed so easy, and it was so impossible that I could come to any harm this way, that I grew more confident, and passing my hand over the rough shale chips that were spread around amongst the short grass, I began to wonder how my uncles could have been so timid, and not have made a brave effort to escape from our difficulty.I kept on, growing more and more confident each moment in spite of the thick darkness that surrounded me, for it seemed so much easier than crouching there doing nothing for myself. But I went very cautiously, for I found I was on a steep slope, and that very little would have been required to send me sliding down.Creep, creep, creep, a yard in two or three minutes, but still I was progressing somewhere, and even at this rate I thought that I could join either of my companions when I chose.I had made up my mind to go a few yards further and then speak, feeling sure that I should be close to Uncle Bob, and that then we could go on together and find Uncle Jack.I had just come to this conclusion, and was thrusting out my right hand again, when, as I tried to set it down, there was nothing there.I drew it in sharply and set it down close to the other as I knelt, and then passed it slowly from me over the loose scraps of slaty stone to find it touch the edge of a bank that seemed to have been cut off perpendicularly, and on passing my hand over, it touched first soft turf and earth and then scrappy loose fragments of shale.This did not startle me, for it appeared to be only a little depression in the ground, but thrusting out one foot I found that go over too, so that I knew I must be parallel with the edge of the trench or crack in the earth.I picked up a piece of shale and threw it from me, listening for its fall, but no sound came, so I sat down with one leg over the depression and kicked with my heel to loosen a bit of the soil.I was a couple of feet back, and as I kicked I felt the ground I sat upon quiver; then there was a loud rushing sound, and I threw myself down clinging with my hands, for a great piece of the edge right up to where I sat had given way and gone down, leaving me with my legs hanging over the edge, and but for my sudden effort I should have fallen.“What was that?” cried a voice some distance above me.“It is I, Uncle Bob,” I panted. “Come and help me.”I heard a fierce drawing in of the breath, and then a low crawling sound, and little bits of stone seemed to be moved close by me.“Where are you, boy?” came again.“Here.”“Can you crawl to me? I’m close by your head.”“No,” I gasped. “If I move I’m afraid I shall fall.”There was the same fierce drawing in of the breath, the crawling sound again, and a hand touched my face, passed round it, and took a tight hold of my collar.“Lie quite still, Cob,” was whispered; “I’m going to draw you up. Now!”I felt myself dragged up suddenly, and at the same moment the earth and stones upon which I had been lying dropped from under me with a loud hissing rushing sound, and then I was lying quite still, clinging to Uncle Bob’s hand, which was very wet and cold.“How did you come there?” he said at length.“Crawled there, trying to get to you,” I said.“And nearly went down that fearful precipice, you foolish fellow. But there: you are safe.”“I did not know it was so dangerous,” I faltered.“Dangerous!” he cried. “It is awful in this horrible darkness. The mountain seems to have been cut in half somewhere about here, and this fog confuses so that it is impossible to stir. We must wait till it blows off I think we are safe now, but I dare not try to find a better place. Dare you?”“Not after what I have just escaped from,” I said dolefully.“Are you cold?”“Ye–es,” I said with a shiver. “It is so damp.”“Creep close to me, then,” he said. “We shall keep each other warm.”We sat like that for hours, and still the fog kept as dense as ever, only that overhead there was a faint light, which grew stronger and then died out over and over again. The stillness was awful, but I had a companion, and that made my position less painful. He would not talk, though as a rule he was very bright and chatty; now he would only say, “Wait and see;” and we waited.The change came, after those long terrible hours of anxiety, like magic. One moment it was thick darkness; the next I felt, as it were, a feather brush across my cheek.“Did you feel that?” I said quickly.“Feel what, Cob?”“Something breathing against us?”“No—yes!” he cried joyfully. “It was the wind.”The same touch came again, but stronger. There was light above our heads. I could dimly see my companion, and then a cloud that looked white and strange in the moonlight was gliding slowly away from us over what seemed to be a vast black chasm whose edge was only a few yards away.It was wonderful how quickly that mist departed and went skimming away into the distance, as if a great curtain were being drawn, leaving the sky sparkling with stars and the moon shining bright and clear.“You see now the danger from which you escaped?” said Uncle Bob with a shudder.“Yes,” I said; “but did—do you think—”He looked at me without answering, and just then there came from behind us a loud “Ahoy!”“Ahoy!” shouted back Uncle Bob; and as we turned in the direction of the cry we could see Uncle Jack waving his white handkerchief to us, and we were soon after by his side.They gripped hands without a word as they met, and then after a short silence Uncle Jack said:“We had better get on and descend on the other, side.”“But Uncle Dick!” I cried impetuously; “are you not going to search for Uncle Dick?”The brothers turned upon me quite fiercely, but neither of them spoke; and for the next hour we went stumbling on down the steep slope of the great hill, trying to keep to the sheep-tracks, which showed pretty plainly in the moonlight, but every now and then we went astray.My uncles were wonderfully quiet, but they kept steadily on; and I did not like to break their communings, and so trudged behind them, noting that they kept as near as seemed practicable to the place where the mountain ended in a precipice; and now after some walking I could look back and see that the moon was shining full upon the face of the hill, which looked grey and as if one end had been dug right away.On we went silently and with a settled determined aim, about which no one spoke, but perhaps thought all the more.I know that I thought so much about the end of our quest that I kept shuddering as I trudged on, with sore feet, feeling that in a short time we should be turning sharp round to our left so as to get to the foot of the great precipice, where the hill had been gnawed away by time, and where the loose earth still kept shivering down.It was as I expected; we turned sharp off to the left and were soon walking with our faces towards the grey-looking face, that at first looked high, but, as we went on, towered up more and more till the height seemed terrific.It was a weary heart-rending walk before we reached the hill-like slope where the loose shaley rock and earth was ever falling to add to thedébrisup which we climbed.“There’s no telling exactly where he must have come over,” said Uncle Jack, after we had searched about some time, expecting moment by moment to come upon the insensible form of our companion. “We must spread out more.”For we neither of us would own to the possibility of Uncle Dick being killed. For my part I imagined that he would have a broken leg, perhaps, or a sprained ankle. If he had fallen head-first he might have put out his shoulder or broken his collar-bone. I would not imagine anything worse.The moon was not so clear now, for fleecy clouds began to sail across it and made the search more difficult, as we clambered on over the shale, which in the steepest parts gave way under our feet. But I determinedly climbed on, sure that if I got very high up I should be able to look down and see where Uncle Dick was lying.To this end I toiled higher and higher, till I could fairly consider that I was touching the face of the mountain where the slope ofdébrisbegan; and I now found that the precipice sloped too, being anything but perpendicular.“Can you see him, Cob?” cried Uncle Jack from below.“No,” I said despondently.“Stay where you are,” he cried again, “quite still.”That was impossible, for where I stood the shale was so small and loose that I was sliding down slowly; but I made very little noise, and just then Uncle Jack uttered a tremendous—“Dick, ahoy!”There was a pause and he shouted again:“Dick, ahoy!”“Ahoy!” came back faintly from somewhere a long way off.“There he is!” I cried.“No—an echo,” said Uncle Jack. “Ahoy!”“Ahoy!” came back.“There, you see—an echo.”“Ahoy!” came again.“That’s no echo,” cried Uncle Bob joyfully. “Dick!”He shouted as loudly as he could.“Ahoy!”“There! It was no echo. He’s all right; and after falling down here he has worked his way out and round the other side, where we went up first, while we came down the other way and missed him.”“Dick, ahoy!” he shouted again; “where away?”“Ahoy!” came back, and we had to consult.“If we go up one way to meet him he will come down the other,” said Uncle Bob. “There’s nothing for it but to wait till morning or divide, and one of us go up one side while the other two go up the other.”Uncle Jack snapped his watch-case down after examining the face by the pale light of the moon.“Two o’clock,” he said, throwing himself on the loose shale. “Ten minutes ago, when we were in doubt, I felt as if I could go on for hours with the search. Now I know that poor old Dick is alive I can’t walk another yard.”I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and Uncle Bob turned to me.“How are you, Cob?” he said.“The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister on my big toe.”“And I’m dead beat,” said Uncle Bob, sinking down. “You’re right, Jack, we must have a rest. Let’s wait till it’s light. It will be broad day by four o’clock, and we can signal to him which way to come.”I nestled down close to him, relieved in mind and body, and I was just thinking that though scraps of slaty stone and brashy earth were not good things for stuffing a feather-bed, they were, all the same, very comfortable for a weary person to lie upon, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and opening my eyes found the sun shining brightly and Uncle Dick looking down in my face.“Have I been asleep?” I said confusedly.“Four hours, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. “You lay down at two. It is now six.”“But I dreamed something about you, Uncle Dick,” I said confusedly. “I thought you were lost.”“Well, not exactly lost, Cob,” he said; “but I slipped over that tremendous slope up yonder, and came down with a rush, stunning myself and making a lot of bruises that are very sore. I must have come down a terrible distance, and I lay, I suppose, for a couple of hours before I could get up and try to make my way back.”“But you are not—not broken,” I cried, now thoroughly awake and holding his hand.“No, Cob,” he said smiling; “not broken, but starving and very faint.”A three miles’ walk took us to where we obtained a very hearty breakfast, and here the farmer willingly drove us to the nearest station, from whence by a roundabout way we journeyed back to Arrowfield, and found the landlady in conference with Mr Tomplin, who had come to our place on receiving a message from Mrs Stephenson that we had gone down to the works and not returned, her impression being that the men had drowned us all in the dam.
I looked in the direction from which the sounds came, but there was nothing visible, save the thick white fog, and in my excitement and horror, thinking I was looking in the wrong direction, I turned sharply round.
White fog.
I looked in another direction.
White fog.
Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hurried here and there with my hands extended, completely astray.
It only took moments, swift moments, for all this to take place, and then I heard voices that I knew, but sounding muffled and as if a long way off.
“Cob! Where are you, Cob?”
“Here,” I shouted. “I’ll try and come.”
“No, no!”—it was Uncle Jack who spoke—“don’t stir for your life.”
“But,” I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was covered with a blanket, “I want to come to you.”
“Stop where you are,” he cried. “I command you.”
I stayed where I was, and the next moment a fresh voice cried to me, as if pitying my condition:
“Cob, lad.”
“Yes,” I cried.
“There is a horrible precipice. Don’t stir.”
It was Uncle Bob who said this to comfort me, and make me safe from running risks, but he made me turn all of a cold perspiration, and I stood there shivering, listening to the murmur of voices that came to me in a stifled way.
At last I could bear it no longer. It seemed so strange. Only a minute or two ago we were all together on the top of a great hill admiring the prospect. Now we were separated. Then all seemed open and clear, and we were looking away for miles: now I seemed shut-in by this pale white gloom that stopped my sight, and almost my hearing, while it numbed and confused my faculties in a way that I could not have felt possible.
“Uncle Jack!” I cried, as a sudden recollection came back of a cry I had heard.
“He is not here,” cried Uncle Bob. “He is trying to find a way down.”
“Where is Uncle Dick?”
“Hush, boy! Don’t ask.”
“But, uncle, I may come to you, may I not?” I cried, trembling with the dread of what had happened, for in spite of my confused state I realised now that Uncle Dick must have fallen.
“My boy,” he shouted back, “I daren’t say yes. The place ends here in a terrible way. We two nearly went over, and I dare not stir, for I cannot see a yard from my feet. I am on a very steep slope too.”
“But where has Uncle Jack gone then?”
“Ahoy!” came from somewhere behind me, and apparently below.
“Ahoy! Uncle Jack,” I yelled.
“Ahoy, boy! I want to come to you. Keep shoutinghere—here—here.”
I did as he bade me, and he kept answering me, and for a minute or two he seemed to be coming nearer. Then his voice sounded more distant, and more distant still; then ceased.
“Cob, I can’t hear him,” came from near me out of the dense gloom. “Can you?”
“No!” I said with a shiver.
“Ahoy, Jack!” roared Uncle Bob.
“Ahoy-oy!” came from a distance in a curiously stifled way.
“Give it up till the fog clears off. Stand still.”
There was no reply, and once more the terrible silence seemed to cling round me. The gloom increased, and I sank on my knees, not daring to stand now, but listening, if I may say so, with all my might.
What had happened? What was going to happen? Were we to stay there all night in the darkness, shivering with cold and damp? Only a little while ago I had been tired and hot; now I did not feel the fatigue, but was shivering with cold, and my hands and face were wet.
I wanted to call out to Uncle Bob again, but the sensation came over me—the strange, wild fancy that something had happened to him, and I dared not speak for fear of finding that it was true.
All at once as I knelt there, listening intently for the slightest sound, I fancied I heard some one breathing. Then the sound stopped. Then it came nearer, and the dense mist parted, and a figure was upon me, crawling close by me without seeing me; and crying “Uncle Bob!” I started forward and caught at him as I thought. My hands seized moist wool for a moment, and then it was jerked out of my hands, as, with a frightenedBaa! Its wearer bounded away.
“What’s that?” came from my left and below me, in the same old suffocated tone.
“A sheep,” I cried, trembling with the start the creature had given me.
“Did you see which way it went?”
“Yes—beyond me.”
“Then it must be safe your way, Cob. I’ll try and crawl to you, lad, but I’m so unnerved I can hardly make up my mind to stir.”
“Let me come to you,” I cried.
“No, no! I’ll try and get to you. Where are you?”
“Here,” I cried.
“All right!” came back in answer; but matters did not seem all right, for Uncle Bob’s voice suddenly seemed to grow more distant, and when I shouted to him my cry came back as if I had put my face against a wall and spoken within an inch or two thereof.
“I think we’d better give it up, Cob,” he shouted now from somewhere quite different. “It is not safe to stir.”
I did not think so, and determined to make an attempt to get to him.
For, now that I had grown a little used to the fog, it did not seem so appalling, though it had grown thicker and darker till I seemed quite shut-in.
“I’ll stop where I am, Cob,” came now as if from above me; “and I daresay in a short time the wind will rise.”
I answered, but I felt as if I could not keep still. I had been scared by the sudden separation from my companions, but the startled feeling having passed away I did not realise the extent of our danger. In fact it seemed absurd for three strong men and a lad like me to be upset in this way by a mist.
Uncle Dick had had a fall, but I would not believe it had been serious. Perhaps he had only slipped down some long slope.
I crouched there in the darkness, straining my eyes to try and pierce the mist, and at last, unable to restrain my impatience, I began to crawl slowly on hands and knees in the direction whence my uncle’s voice seemed to come.
I crept a yard at a time very carefully, feeling round with my hands before I ventured to move, and satisfying myself that the ground was solid all around.
It seemed so easy, and it was so impossible that I could come to any harm this way, that I grew more confident, and passing my hand over the rough shale chips that were spread around amongst the short grass, I began to wonder how my uncles could have been so timid, and not have made a brave effort to escape from our difficulty.
I kept on, growing more and more confident each moment in spite of the thick darkness that surrounded me, for it seemed so much easier than crouching there doing nothing for myself. But I went very cautiously, for I found I was on a steep slope, and that very little would have been required to send me sliding down.
Creep, creep, creep, a yard in two or three minutes, but still I was progressing somewhere, and even at this rate I thought that I could join either of my companions when I chose.
I had made up my mind to go a few yards further and then speak, feeling sure that I should be close to Uncle Bob, and that then we could go on together and find Uncle Jack.
I had just come to this conclusion, and was thrusting out my right hand again, when, as I tried to set it down, there was nothing there.
I drew it in sharply and set it down close to the other as I knelt, and then passed it slowly from me over the loose scraps of slaty stone to find it touch the edge of a bank that seemed to have been cut off perpendicularly, and on passing my hand over, it touched first soft turf and earth and then scrappy loose fragments of shale.
This did not startle me, for it appeared to be only a little depression in the ground, but thrusting out one foot I found that go over too, so that I knew I must be parallel with the edge of the trench or crack in the earth.
I picked up a piece of shale and threw it from me, listening for its fall, but no sound came, so I sat down with one leg over the depression and kicked with my heel to loosen a bit of the soil.
I was a couple of feet back, and as I kicked I felt the ground I sat upon quiver; then there was a loud rushing sound, and I threw myself down clinging with my hands, for a great piece of the edge right up to where I sat had given way and gone down, leaving me with my legs hanging over the edge, and but for my sudden effort I should have fallen.
“What was that?” cried a voice some distance above me.
“It is I, Uncle Bob,” I panted. “Come and help me.”
I heard a fierce drawing in of the breath, and then a low crawling sound, and little bits of stone seemed to be moved close by me.
“Where are you, boy?” came again.
“Here.”
“Can you crawl to me? I’m close by your head.”
“No,” I gasped. “If I move I’m afraid I shall fall.”
There was the same fierce drawing in of the breath, the crawling sound again, and a hand touched my face, passed round it, and took a tight hold of my collar.
“Lie quite still, Cob,” was whispered; “I’m going to draw you up. Now!”
I felt myself dragged up suddenly, and at the same moment the earth and stones upon which I had been lying dropped from under me with a loud hissing rushing sound, and then I was lying quite still, clinging to Uncle Bob’s hand, which was very wet and cold.
“How did you come there?” he said at length.
“Crawled there, trying to get to you,” I said.
“And nearly went down that fearful precipice, you foolish fellow. But there: you are safe.”
“I did not know it was so dangerous,” I faltered.
“Dangerous!” he cried. “It is awful in this horrible darkness. The mountain seems to have been cut in half somewhere about here, and this fog confuses so that it is impossible to stir. We must wait till it blows off I think we are safe now, but I dare not try to find a better place. Dare you?”
“Not after what I have just escaped from,” I said dolefully.
“Are you cold?”
“Ye–es,” I said with a shiver. “It is so damp.”
“Creep close to me, then,” he said. “We shall keep each other warm.”
We sat like that for hours, and still the fog kept as dense as ever, only that overhead there was a faint light, which grew stronger and then died out over and over again. The stillness was awful, but I had a companion, and that made my position less painful. He would not talk, though as a rule he was very bright and chatty; now he would only say, “Wait and see;” and we waited.
The change came, after those long terrible hours of anxiety, like magic. One moment it was thick darkness; the next I felt, as it were, a feather brush across my cheek.
“Did you feel that?” I said quickly.
“Feel what, Cob?”
“Something breathing against us?”
“No—yes!” he cried joyfully. “It was the wind.”
The same touch came again, but stronger. There was light above our heads. I could dimly see my companion, and then a cloud that looked white and strange in the moonlight was gliding slowly away from us over what seemed to be a vast black chasm whose edge was only a few yards away.
It was wonderful how quickly that mist departed and went skimming away into the distance, as if a great curtain were being drawn, leaving the sky sparkling with stars and the moon shining bright and clear.
“You see now the danger from which you escaped?” said Uncle Bob with a shudder.
“Yes,” I said; “but did—do you think—”
He looked at me without answering, and just then there came from behind us a loud “Ahoy!”
“Ahoy!” shouted back Uncle Bob; and as we turned in the direction of the cry we could see Uncle Jack waving his white handkerchief to us, and we were soon after by his side.
They gripped hands without a word as they met, and then after a short silence Uncle Jack said:
“We had better get on and descend on the other, side.”
“But Uncle Dick!” I cried impetuously; “are you not going to search for Uncle Dick?”
The brothers turned upon me quite fiercely, but neither of them spoke; and for the next hour we went stumbling on down the steep slope of the great hill, trying to keep to the sheep-tracks, which showed pretty plainly in the moonlight, but every now and then we went astray.
My uncles were wonderfully quiet, but they kept steadily on; and I did not like to break their communings, and so trudged behind them, noting that they kept as near as seemed practicable to the place where the mountain ended in a precipice; and now after some walking I could look back and see that the moon was shining full upon the face of the hill, which looked grey and as if one end had been dug right away.
On we went silently and with a settled determined aim, about which no one spoke, but perhaps thought all the more.
I know that I thought so much about the end of our quest that I kept shuddering as I trudged on, with sore feet, feeling that in a short time we should be turning sharp round to our left so as to get to the foot of the great precipice, where the hill had been gnawed away by time, and where the loose earth still kept shivering down.
It was as I expected; we turned sharp off to the left and were soon walking with our faces towards the grey-looking face, that at first looked high, but, as we went on, towered up more and more till the height seemed terrific.
It was a weary heart-rending walk before we reached the hill-like slope where the loose shaley rock and earth was ever falling to add to thedébrisup which we climbed.
“There’s no telling exactly where he must have come over,” said Uncle Jack, after we had searched about some time, expecting moment by moment to come upon the insensible form of our companion. “We must spread out more.”
For we neither of us would own to the possibility of Uncle Dick being killed. For my part I imagined that he would have a broken leg, perhaps, or a sprained ankle. If he had fallen head-first he might have put out his shoulder or broken his collar-bone. I would not imagine anything worse.
The moon was not so clear now, for fleecy clouds began to sail across it and made the search more difficult, as we clambered on over the shale, which in the steepest parts gave way under our feet. But I determinedly climbed on, sure that if I got very high up I should be able to look down and see where Uncle Dick was lying.
To this end I toiled higher and higher, till I could fairly consider that I was touching the face of the mountain where the slope ofdébrisbegan; and I now found that the precipice sloped too, being anything but perpendicular.
“Can you see him, Cob?” cried Uncle Jack from below.
“No,” I said despondently.
“Stay where you are,” he cried again, “quite still.”
That was impossible, for where I stood the shale was so small and loose that I was sliding down slowly; but I made very little noise, and just then Uncle Jack uttered a tremendous—
“Dick, ahoy!”
There was a pause and he shouted again:
“Dick, ahoy!”
“Ahoy!” came back faintly from somewhere a long way off.
“There he is!” I cried.
“No—an echo,” said Uncle Jack. “Ahoy!”
“Ahoy!” came back.
“There, you see—an echo.”
“Ahoy!” came again.
“That’s no echo,” cried Uncle Bob joyfully. “Dick!”
He shouted as loudly as he could.
“Ahoy!”
“There! It was no echo. He’s all right; and after falling down here he has worked his way out and round the other side, where we went up first, while we came down the other way and missed him.”
“Dick, ahoy!” he shouted again; “where away?”
“Ahoy!” came back, and we had to consult.
“If we go up one way to meet him he will come down the other,” said Uncle Bob. “There’s nothing for it but to wait till morning or divide, and one of us go up one side while the other two go up the other.”
Uncle Jack snapped his watch-case down after examining the face by the pale light of the moon.
“Two o’clock,” he said, throwing himself on the loose shale. “Ten minutes ago, when we were in doubt, I felt as if I could go on for hours with the search. Now I know that poor old Dick is alive I can’t walk another yard.”
I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and Uncle Bob turned to me.
“How are you, Cob?” he said.
“The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister on my big toe.”
“And I’m dead beat,” said Uncle Bob, sinking down. “You’re right, Jack, we must have a rest. Let’s wait till it’s light. It will be broad day by four o’clock, and we can signal to him which way to come.”
I nestled down close to him, relieved in mind and body, and I was just thinking that though scraps of slaty stone and brashy earth were not good things for stuffing a feather-bed, they were, all the same, very comfortable for a weary person to lie upon, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and opening my eyes found the sun shining brightly and Uncle Dick looking down in my face.
“Have I been asleep?” I said confusedly.
“Four hours, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. “You lay down at two. It is now six.”
“But I dreamed something about you, Uncle Dick,” I said confusedly. “I thought you were lost.”
“Well, not exactly lost, Cob,” he said; “but I slipped over that tremendous slope up yonder, and came down with a rush, stunning myself and making a lot of bruises that are very sore. I must have come down a terrible distance, and I lay, I suppose, for a couple of hours before I could get up and try to make my way back.”
“But you are not—not broken,” I cried, now thoroughly awake and holding his hand.
“No, Cob,” he said smiling; “not broken, but starving and very faint.”
A three miles’ walk took us to where we obtained a very hearty breakfast, and here the farmer willingly drove us to the nearest station, from whence by a roundabout way we journeyed back to Arrowfield, and found the landlady in conference with Mr Tomplin, who had come to our place on receiving a message from Mrs Stephenson that we had gone down to the works and not returned, her impression being that the men had drowned us all in the dam.
Chapter Six.“Do let me come.”The rest of the week soon slipped by, and my uncles took possession of the works, but not peaceably.The agent who had had the letting went down to meet my uncles and give them formal possession.When he got there he was attacked by the work-people, with words first, and then with stones and pails of water.The consequence was that he went home with a cut head and his clothes soaked.“But what’s to be done?” said Uncle Dick to him. “We want the place according to the agreement.”The agent looked up, holding one hand to his head, and looking white and scared.“Call themselves men!” he said, “I call them wild beasts.”“Call them what you like,” said Uncle Dick; “wild beasts if you will, but get them out.”“But I can’t,” groaned the man dismally. “See what a state I’m in! They’ve spoiled my second best suit.”“Very tiresome,” said Uncle Dick, who was growing impatient; “but are you going to get these people out? We’ve two truck-loads of machinery waiting to be delivered.”“Don’t I tell you I can’t,” said the agent angrily. “Take possession yourself. There, I give you leave.”“Very well,” said Uncle Dick. “You assure me that these men have no legal right to be there.”“Not the slightest. They were only allowed to be there till the place was let.”“That’s right; then we take possession at once, sir.”“And good luck to you!” said the agent as we went out.“What are you going to do?” asked Uncle Bob.“Take possession.”“When?”“To-night. Will you come?”“Will I come?” said Uncle Bob with a half laugh. “You might as well ask Jack.”“It may mean trouble to-morrow.”“There’s nothing done without trouble,” said Uncle Bob coolly. “I like ease better, but I’ll take my share.”I was wildly excited, and began thinking that we should all be armed with swords and guns, so that I was terribly disappointed when that evening I found Uncle Dick enter the room with a brown-paper parcel in his hand that looked like a book, and followed by Uncle Jack looking as peaceable as could be.“Where’s Uncle Bob?” I said.“Waiting for us outside.”“Why doesn’t he come in?”“He’s busy.”I wondered what Uncle Bob was busy about; but I noticed that my uncles were preparing for the expedition, putting some tools and a small lantern in a travelling-bag. After this Uncle Jack took it open downstairs ready for starting.“Look here, Cob,” said Uncle Dick; “we are going down to the works.”“What! To-night?”“Yes, my lad, to-night.”“But you can’t get in. The men have the key.”“I have the agent’s keys. There are two sets, and I am going down now. Look here; take a book and amuse yourself, and go to bed in good time. Perhaps we shall be late.”“Why, you are going to stop all night,” I cried, “so as to be there before the men?”“I confess,” he said, laughing in my excited face.“And I sha’n’t see any of the fun,” I cried.“There will not be any fun, Cob.”“Oh, yes, there will, uncle,” I said. “I say, do let me come.”He shook his head, and as I could make no impression on him I gave up, and slipped down to Uncle Jack, who was watching Mrs Stephenson cut some huge sandwiches for provender during the night.“I say, uncle,” I whispered, “I know what you are going to do. Take me.”“No, no,” he said. “It will be no work for boys.”He was so quiet and stern that I felt it was of no use to press him, so I left the kitchen and went to the front door to try Uncle Bob for my last resource.I opened the door gently, and started back, for there was a savage growl, and I just made out the dark form of a big-headed dog tugging at a string.“Down, Piter!” said Uncle Bob. “Who is it? You, Cob? Here, Piter, make friends with him. Come out.”I went out rather slowly, for the dog was growling ominously; but at a word from Uncle Bob he ceased, and began to smell me all round the legs, stopping longest about my calves, as if he thought that would be the best place for a bite.“Pat him, Cob, and pull his ears.”I stooped down rather unwillingly, and began patting the ugliest head I ever saw in my life. For Piter—otherwise Jupiter—was a brindled bull-dog with an enormous head, protruding lower jaw, pinched-in nose, and grinning teeth. The sides of his head seemed swollen, and his chest broad, his body lank and lean, ending in a shabby little thin tail.“Why, he has no ears,” I said.“They are cut pretty short, poor fellow. But isn’t he a beauty, Cob?”“Beauty!” I said, laughing. “But where did you get him?”“Mr Tomplin has lent him to us.”“But what for?”“Garrison for the fort,” my boy. “I think we can trust him.”I commenced my attack then.“I should so like to go!” I said. “It isn’t as if I was a nuisance. I wasn’t so bad when we were out all night by Dome Tor.”“Well, there, I’ll talk them over,” he said. “Here, you stop and hold the dog, while I go in.”“What, hold him?”“Yes, to be sure. I won’t be long.”“But, uncle,” I said, “he looks such a brute, as if he’d eat a fellow.”“My dear Cob, I sha’n’t be above a quarter of an hour. He couldn’t get through more than one leg by that time.”“Now you’re laughing at me,” I said.“Hold the dog, then, you young coward!”“I’m not,” I said in an injured tone; and I caught at the leather thong, for if it had been a lion I should have held on then.I wanted to say, “Don’t be long,” but I was ashamed, and I looked rather wistfully over my shoulder as he went in, leaving me with the dog.Piter uttered a low whine as the door closed, and then growled angrily and gave a short deep-toned bark.This done, he growled at me, smelled me all round, making my legs seem to curdle as his blunt nose touched them, and then after winding the thong round me twice he stood up on his hind-legs, placing his paws against my chest and his ugly muzzle between them.My heart was beating fast, but the act was so friendly that I patted the great head; and the end of it was, that I sat down on the door-step, and when Uncle Bob came out again Piter and I had fraternised, and he had been showing me as hard as he could that he was my born slave, that he was ready for a bit of fun at any time, and also to defend me against any enemy who should attack.Piter’s ways were simple. To show the first he licked my hand. For the second, he turned over on his back, patted at me with his paws, and mumbled my legs, took a hold of my trousers and dragged at them, and butted at me with his bullet head. For the last, he suddenly sprang to his feet as a step was heard, crouched by me ready for a spring, and made some thunder inside him somewhere.This done, he tried to show me what fun it was to tie himself up in a knot with the leathern thong, and strangle himself till his eyes stood out of his head.“Why, you have made friends,” said Uncle Bob, coming out. “Good dog, then.”“May I go?” I said eagerly.“Yes. They’ve given in. I had a hard fight, sir, so you must do me credit.”Half an hour after, we four were on our way to our own works, just as if we were stealing through the dark to commit a burglary, and I noticed that though there were no swords and guns, each of my uncles carried a very stout heavy stick, that seemed to me like a yard of bad headache, cut very thick.The streets looked very miserable as we advanced, leaving behind us the noise and roar and glow of the panting machinery which every now and then whistled and screamed as if rejoicing over the metal it was cutting and forming and working into endless shapes. There behind us was the red cloud against which the light from a thousand furnaces was glowing, while every now and then came a deafening roar as if some explosion had taken place.I glanced down at Piter expecting to see him startled, but he was Arrowfield born, and paid not the slightest heed to noise, passing through a bright flash of light that shot from an open door as if it were the usual thing, and he did not even twitch his tail as we walked on by a wall that seemed to quiver and shake as some great piece of machinery worked away, throbbing and thudding inside.“Here we are at last,” said Uncle Dick, as we reached the corner of our place, where a lamp shed a ghastly kind of glow upon the dark triangular shaped dam.The big stone building looked silent and ghostly in the gloom, while the great chimney stood up like a giant sentry watching over it, and placed there by the men whom it was our misfortune to have to dislodge.We had a perfect right to be there, but one and all spoke in whispers as we looked round at the buildings about, to see in one of a row of houses that there were lights, and in a big stone building similar to ours the faint glow of a fire left to smoulder till the morning. But look which way we would, there was not a soul about, and all was still.As we drew closer I could hear the dripping of the water as it ran in by the wheel where it was not securely stopped; and every now and then there was an echoing plash from the great shut-in cave, but no light in any of the windows.“Come and hold the bag, Jack,” whispered Uncle Dick; and then laughingly as we grouped about the gate with the dog sniffing at the bottom: “If you see a policeman coming, give me fair warning. I hope that dog will not bark. I feel just like a burglar.”Piter uttered a low growl, but remained silent, while Uncle Dick opened the gate and we entered.As soon as we were inside the yard the bag was put under requisition again, a great screw-driver taken out, the lantern lit, and with all the skill and expedition of one accustomed to the use of tools, Uncle Dick unscrewed and took off the lock, laid it aside, and fitted on, very ingeniously, so that the old key-hole should do again, one of the new patent locks he had brought with him in the brown-paper parcel I had seen.This took some little time, but it was effected at last, and Uncle Dick said:“That is something towards making the place our own. Their key will not be worth much now.”Securing the gate by turning the key of the new lock, we went next to the door leading into the works, which was also locked, but the key the agent had supplied opened it directly, and this time Uncle Dick held box and lantern while Uncle Jack took off the old and fitted on the second new lock that we had brought.It was a curious scene in the darkness of that great stone-floored echoing place, where an observer who watched would have seen a round glass eye shedding a bright light on a particular part of the big dirty door, and in the golden ring the bull’s-eye made, a pair of large white hands busy at work fixing, turning a gimlet, putting in and fastening screws, while only now and then could a face be seen in the ring of light.“There,” said Uncle Jack at last, as he turned the well-oiled key and made the bolt of the lock play in and out of its socket, “now I think we can call the place our own.”“I say, Uncle Bob,” I whispered—I don’t know why, unless it was the darkness that made me speak low—“I should like to see those fellows’ faces when they come to the gate to-morrow morning.”“Especially Old Squintum’s,” said Uncle Bob laughing. “Pleasant countenance that man has, Cob. If ever he is modelled I should like to have a copy. Now, boys, what next?”“Next!” said Uncle Dick; “we’ll just have a look round this place and see what there is belonging to the men, and we’ll put all together so as to be able to give it up when they come.”“The small grindstones are theirs, are they not?” said Uncle Bob.“No; the agent says that everything belongs to the works and will be found in the inventory. All we have to turn out will be the blades they are grinding.”Uncle Dick went forward from grindstone to grindstone, but only in one place was anything waiting to be ground, and that was a bundle of black-looking, newly-forged scythe blades, neatly tied up with bands of wire.He went on from end to end, making the light play on grindstone, trough, and the rusty sand that lay about; but nothing else was to be seen, and after reaching the door leading into the great chamber where the water-wheel revolved, he turned back the light, looking like some dancing will-o’-the-wisp as he directed it here and there, greatly to the puzzlement of Piter, to whom it was something new.He tugged at the stout leathern thong once or twice, but I held on and he ceased, contenting himself with a low uneasy whine now and then, and looking up to me with his great protruding eyes, as if for an explanation.“Now let’s have a look round upwards,” said Uncle Dick. “I’m glad the men have left so few of their traps here. Cob, my lad, you need not hold that dog. Take the swivel off his collar and let him go. He can’t get away.”“Besides,” said Uncle Bob, “this is to be his home.”I stooped down and unhooked the spring swivel, to Piter’s great delight, which he displayed by scuffling about our feet, trying to get himself trodden upon by all in turn, and ending by making a rush at the bull’s-eye lantern, and knocking his head against the round glass.“Pretty little creature!” said Uncle Bob. “Well, I should have given him credit for more sense than a moth.”Piter growled as if he were dissatisfied with the result, and then his hideous little crinkled black nose was seen as he smelt the lantern all round, and, apparently gratified by the odour of the oil, he licked his black lips.“Now then, upstairs,” said Uncle Dick, leading the way with the lantern. But as soon as the light fell upon the flight of stone stairs Piter went to the front with a rush, his claws pattered on the stones, and he was up at the top waiting for us, after giving a scratch at a rough door, his ugly countenance looking down curiously out of the darkness.“Good dog!” said Uncle Dick as he reached the landing and unlatched the door.Piter squeezed himself through almost before the door was six inches open, and the next moment he burst into a furious deep-mouthed bay.“Someone there!” cried Uncle Dick, and he rushed in, lantern in hand, to make the light play round, while my uncles changed the hold of their stout sticks, holding them cudgel fashion ready for action.The light rested directly on the face and chest of a man sitting up between a couple of rusty lathes, where a quantity of straw had been thrown down, and at the first glimpse it was evident that the dog had just aroused him from a heavy sleep.His eyes were half-closed, bits of oat straw were sticking in his short dark hair, and glistened like fragments of pale gold in the light cast by the bull’s-eye, while two blackened and roughened hands were applied to his eyes as if he were trying to rub them bright.Piter’s was an ugly face; but the countenance of an ugly animal is pleasanter to look upon than that of an ugly degraded human being, and as I saw the rough stubbly jaws open, displaying some yellow and blackened teeth that glistened in the light as their owner yawned widely, I began to think our dog handsome by comparison.The man growled as if not yet awake, and rubbed away at his eyes with his big fists, as if they, too, required a great deal of polishing to make them bright enough to see.At last he dropped his fists and stared straight before him—no, that’s a mistake, he stared with the range of his eyes crossing, and then seemed to have some confused idea that there was a light before him, and a dog making a noise, for he growled out:“Lie down!”Then, bending forward, he swept an arm round, as if in search of something, which he caught hold of at last, and we understood why he was so confused. For it was a large stone bottle he had taken up. From this he removed the cork with a dullFop! Raised the bottle with both hands, took a long draught, and corked the bottle again with a sigh, set it down beside him, and after yawning loudly shouted once more at the dog, “Get out! Lie down!”Then he settled himself as if about to do what he had bidden the dog, but a gleam of intelligence appeared to have come now into his brain.There was no mistaking the man: it was the squinting ruffian who had attacked us when we came first, and there was no doubt that he had been staying there to keep watch and hold the place against us, for a candle was stuck in a ginger-beer bottle on the frame of the lathe beyond him, and this candle had guttered down and gone out.We none of us spoke, but stood in the black shadow invisible to the man, who could only see the bright light of the bull’s-eye staring him full in the face.“Lie down, will yer!” he growled savagely. “Makin’ shut a row! Lie down or—”He shouted this last in such a fierce tone of menace that it would have scared some dogs.It had a different effect on Piter, who growled angrily.“Don’t, then,” shouted the man; “howl and bark—make a row, but if yer touch me I’ll take yer down and drownd yer in the wheel-pit. D’yer hear? In the wheel-pit!”This was said in a low drowsy tone and as if the fellow were nearly asleep, and as the light played upon his half-closed dreamy eyes he muttered and stared at it as if completely overcome by sleep.It was perfectly ridiculous, and yet horrible, to see that rough head and hideous face nodding and blinking at the light as the fellow supported himself on both his hands in an ape-like attitude that was more animal than human.All this was a matter of a minute or so, and then the ugly cross eyes closed, opened sharply, and were brought to bear upon the light one after the other by movements of the head, just as a magpie looks at a young bird before he kills it with a stroke of his bill.Then a glimpse of intelligence seemed to shoot from them, and the man sat up sharply.“What’s that light?” he said roughly. “Police! What do you want?”“What are you doing here?” said Uncle Jack in his deep voice.“Doing, p’liceman! Keeping wetch. Set o’ Lonnoners trying to get howd o’ wucks, and me and my mates wean’t hev ’em. Just keeping wetch. Good-night!”He sat up, staring harder at the light, and then tried to see behind it.“Well,” he cried, “why don’t you go, mate? Shut door efter you.”“Hold the dog, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. “Bob, you take the lantern and open the door and the gate. Lay hold of one side, Dick, I’ll take the other, and we’ll put him out.”But the man was wide-awake now; and as I darted at Piter and got my hands in his collar and held him back, the fellow made a dash at something lying on the lathe, and as the lantern was changed from hand to hand I caught sight of the barrel of an old horse-pistol.“Take care!” I shouted, as I dragged Piter back. “Pistol.”“Yes, pistol, do yer hear?” roared the fellow starting up. “Pistol! And I’ll shute the first as comes anigh me.”There was a click here, and all was in darkness, for Uncle Bob turned the shade of the lantern and hid it within his coat.“Put that pistol down, my man, and no harm shall come to you; but you must get out of this place directly.”“What! Get out! Yes, out you go, whoever you are,” roared the fellow. “I can see you, and I’ll bring down the first as stirs. This here’s a good owd pistol, and she hits hard. Now then open that light and let’s see you go down. This here’s my place and my mates’, and we don’t want none else here. Now then.”I was struggling in the dark with Piter, and only held him back, there was such strength in his small body, by lifting him by his collar and holding him against me standing on his hind-legs.But, engaged as I was, I had an excited ear for what was going on, and I trembled, as I expected to see the flash of the pistol and feel its bullet strike me or the dog.As the man uttered his threats I heard a sharp whispering and a quick movement or two in the dark, and then all at once I saw the light open, and after a flash here and there shine full upon the fellow, who immediately turned the pistol on the holder of the lantern.“Now then,” he cried, “yer give in, don’t yer? Yes or no ’fore I fires. Yah!”He turned sharply round in my direction as I struggled with Piter, whom the sight of the black-looking ruffian had made furious.But the man had not turned upon me.He had caught sight of Uncle Jack springing at him, the light showing him as he advanced.There was a flash, a loud report, and almost preceding it, if not quite, the sound of a sharp rap given with a stick upon flesh and bone.The next instant there was a hoarse yell and the noise made by the pistol falling upon the floor.“Hurt, Jack?” cried Uncle Dick, as my heart seemed to stand still.“Scratched, that’s all,” was the reply. “Here, come and tie this wild beast’s hands. I think I can hold him now.”It almost sounded like a rash assertion, as the light played upon the desperate struggle that was going on. I could see Uncle Jack and the man, now down, now up, and at last, after wrestling here and there, the man, in spite of Uncle Jack’s great strength, seeming to have the mastery. There was a loud panting and a crushing fall, both going down, and Uncle Jack rising up to kneel upon his adversary’s chest.“Like fighting a bull,” panted Uncle Jack. “What arms the fellow has! Got the rope?”“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, rattling the things in the bag. “Can you turn him over?”No sooner said than done. The man heard the order, and prepared to resist being turned on one side. Uncle Jack noted this and attacked the other side so quickly that the man was over upon his face before he could change his tactics.“Keep that dog back, Cob, or he’ll eat him,” said Uncle Bob, making the lantern play on the prostrate man, whose arms were dexterously dragged behind him and tightly tied.“There,” said Uncle Jack. “Now you can get up and go. Ah, would you, coward!”This was in answer to a furious kick the fellow tried to deliver as soon as he had regained his feet.“If he attempts to kick again, loose the dog at him, Cob,” cried Uncle Dick sharply.Then in an undertone to me:“No: don’t! But let him think you will.”“You’ll hev it for this,” cried the man furiously.“Right,” said Uncle Jack. “Now, then, have you anything here belonging to you? No! Down you come then.”He collared his prisoner, who turned to kick at him; but a savage snarl from Piter, as I half let him go, checked the fellow, and he suffered himself to be marched to the door, where he stopped.“Ma beer,” he growled, looking back at the stone bottle.“Beer! No, you’ve had enough of that,” said Uncle Dick. “Go on down.”The man walked quietly down the stairs; but when he found that he was to be thrust out into the lane he began to struggle again, and shout, but a fierce hand at his throat stopped that and he was led down to the gate in the wall, where it became my task now to hold the lantern while Uncles Dick and Bob grasped our prisoner’s arms and left Uncle Jack free to untie the cord.“Be ready to unlock the gate, Cob,” whispered Uncle Jack, as he held his prisoner by one twist of the rope round his arms like a leash. “Now, then, ready! Back, dog, back!”Piter shrank away, and then at a concerted moment the gate was thrown open, the three brothers loosed their hold of the prisoner at the same moment, and just as he was turning to try and re-enter, a sharp thrust of the foot sent him flying forward, the gate was banged to, and locked, and we were congratulating ourselves upon having ridded ourselves of an ugly customer, when the gate shook from the effect of a tremendous blow that sounded as if it had been dealt with a paving-stone.
The rest of the week soon slipped by, and my uncles took possession of the works, but not peaceably.
The agent who had had the letting went down to meet my uncles and give them formal possession.
When he got there he was attacked by the work-people, with words first, and then with stones and pails of water.
The consequence was that he went home with a cut head and his clothes soaked.
“But what’s to be done?” said Uncle Dick to him. “We want the place according to the agreement.”
The agent looked up, holding one hand to his head, and looking white and scared.
“Call themselves men!” he said, “I call them wild beasts.”
“Call them what you like,” said Uncle Dick; “wild beasts if you will, but get them out.”
“But I can’t,” groaned the man dismally. “See what a state I’m in! They’ve spoiled my second best suit.”
“Very tiresome,” said Uncle Dick, who was growing impatient; “but are you going to get these people out? We’ve two truck-loads of machinery waiting to be delivered.”
“Don’t I tell you I can’t,” said the agent angrily. “Take possession yourself. There, I give you leave.”
“Very well,” said Uncle Dick. “You assure me that these men have no legal right to be there.”
“Not the slightest. They were only allowed to be there till the place was let.”
“That’s right; then we take possession at once, sir.”
“And good luck to you!” said the agent as we went out.
“What are you going to do?” asked Uncle Bob.
“Take possession.”
“When?”
“To-night. Will you come?”
“Will I come?” said Uncle Bob with a half laugh. “You might as well ask Jack.”
“It may mean trouble to-morrow.”
“There’s nothing done without trouble,” said Uncle Bob coolly. “I like ease better, but I’ll take my share.”
I was wildly excited, and began thinking that we should all be armed with swords and guns, so that I was terribly disappointed when that evening I found Uncle Dick enter the room with a brown-paper parcel in his hand that looked like a book, and followed by Uncle Jack looking as peaceable as could be.
“Where’s Uncle Bob?” I said.
“Waiting for us outside.”
“Why doesn’t he come in?”
“He’s busy.”
I wondered what Uncle Bob was busy about; but I noticed that my uncles were preparing for the expedition, putting some tools and a small lantern in a travelling-bag. After this Uncle Jack took it open downstairs ready for starting.
“Look here, Cob,” said Uncle Dick; “we are going down to the works.”
“What! To-night?”
“Yes, my lad, to-night.”
“But you can’t get in. The men have the key.”
“I have the agent’s keys. There are two sets, and I am going down now. Look here; take a book and amuse yourself, and go to bed in good time. Perhaps we shall be late.”
“Why, you are going to stop all night,” I cried, “so as to be there before the men?”
“I confess,” he said, laughing in my excited face.
“And I sha’n’t see any of the fun,” I cried.
“There will not be any fun, Cob.”
“Oh, yes, there will, uncle,” I said. “I say, do let me come.”
He shook his head, and as I could make no impression on him I gave up, and slipped down to Uncle Jack, who was watching Mrs Stephenson cut some huge sandwiches for provender during the night.
“I say, uncle,” I whispered, “I know what you are going to do. Take me.”
“No, no,” he said. “It will be no work for boys.”
He was so quiet and stern that I felt it was of no use to press him, so I left the kitchen and went to the front door to try Uncle Bob for my last resource.
I opened the door gently, and started back, for there was a savage growl, and I just made out the dark form of a big-headed dog tugging at a string.
“Down, Piter!” said Uncle Bob. “Who is it? You, Cob? Here, Piter, make friends with him. Come out.”
I went out rather slowly, for the dog was growling ominously; but at a word from Uncle Bob he ceased, and began to smell me all round the legs, stopping longest about my calves, as if he thought that would be the best place for a bite.
“Pat him, Cob, and pull his ears.”
I stooped down rather unwillingly, and began patting the ugliest head I ever saw in my life. For Piter—otherwise Jupiter—was a brindled bull-dog with an enormous head, protruding lower jaw, pinched-in nose, and grinning teeth. The sides of his head seemed swollen, and his chest broad, his body lank and lean, ending in a shabby little thin tail.
“Why, he has no ears,” I said.
“They are cut pretty short, poor fellow. But isn’t he a beauty, Cob?”
“Beauty!” I said, laughing. “But where did you get him?”
“Mr Tomplin has lent him to us.”
“But what for?”
“Garrison for the fort,” my boy. “I think we can trust him.”
I commenced my attack then.
“I should so like to go!” I said. “It isn’t as if I was a nuisance. I wasn’t so bad when we were out all night by Dome Tor.”
“Well, there, I’ll talk them over,” he said. “Here, you stop and hold the dog, while I go in.”
“What, hold him?”
“Yes, to be sure. I won’t be long.”
“But, uncle,” I said, “he looks such a brute, as if he’d eat a fellow.”
“My dear Cob, I sha’n’t be above a quarter of an hour. He couldn’t get through more than one leg by that time.”
“Now you’re laughing at me,” I said.
“Hold the dog, then, you young coward!”
“I’m not,” I said in an injured tone; and I caught at the leather thong, for if it had been a lion I should have held on then.
I wanted to say, “Don’t be long,” but I was ashamed, and I looked rather wistfully over my shoulder as he went in, leaving me with the dog.
Piter uttered a low whine as the door closed, and then growled angrily and gave a short deep-toned bark.
This done, he growled at me, smelled me all round, making my legs seem to curdle as his blunt nose touched them, and then after winding the thong round me twice he stood up on his hind-legs, placing his paws against my chest and his ugly muzzle between them.
My heart was beating fast, but the act was so friendly that I patted the great head; and the end of it was, that I sat down on the door-step, and when Uncle Bob came out again Piter and I had fraternised, and he had been showing me as hard as he could that he was my born slave, that he was ready for a bit of fun at any time, and also to defend me against any enemy who should attack.
Piter’s ways were simple. To show the first he licked my hand. For the second, he turned over on his back, patted at me with his paws, and mumbled my legs, took a hold of my trousers and dragged at them, and butted at me with his bullet head. For the last, he suddenly sprang to his feet as a step was heard, crouched by me ready for a spring, and made some thunder inside him somewhere.
This done, he tried to show me what fun it was to tie himself up in a knot with the leathern thong, and strangle himself till his eyes stood out of his head.
“Why, you have made friends,” said Uncle Bob, coming out. “Good dog, then.”
“May I go?” I said eagerly.
“Yes. They’ve given in. I had a hard fight, sir, so you must do me credit.”
Half an hour after, we four were on our way to our own works, just as if we were stealing through the dark to commit a burglary, and I noticed that though there were no swords and guns, each of my uncles carried a very stout heavy stick, that seemed to me like a yard of bad headache, cut very thick.
The streets looked very miserable as we advanced, leaving behind us the noise and roar and glow of the panting machinery which every now and then whistled and screamed as if rejoicing over the metal it was cutting and forming and working into endless shapes. There behind us was the red cloud against which the light from a thousand furnaces was glowing, while every now and then came a deafening roar as if some explosion had taken place.
I glanced down at Piter expecting to see him startled, but he was Arrowfield born, and paid not the slightest heed to noise, passing through a bright flash of light that shot from an open door as if it were the usual thing, and he did not even twitch his tail as we walked on by a wall that seemed to quiver and shake as some great piece of machinery worked away, throbbing and thudding inside.
“Here we are at last,” said Uncle Dick, as we reached the corner of our place, where a lamp shed a ghastly kind of glow upon the dark triangular shaped dam.
The big stone building looked silent and ghostly in the gloom, while the great chimney stood up like a giant sentry watching over it, and placed there by the men whom it was our misfortune to have to dislodge.
We had a perfect right to be there, but one and all spoke in whispers as we looked round at the buildings about, to see in one of a row of houses that there were lights, and in a big stone building similar to ours the faint glow of a fire left to smoulder till the morning. But look which way we would, there was not a soul about, and all was still.
As we drew closer I could hear the dripping of the water as it ran in by the wheel where it was not securely stopped; and every now and then there was an echoing plash from the great shut-in cave, but no light in any of the windows.
“Come and hold the bag, Jack,” whispered Uncle Dick; and then laughingly as we grouped about the gate with the dog sniffing at the bottom: “If you see a policeman coming, give me fair warning. I hope that dog will not bark. I feel just like a burglar.”
Piter uttered a low growl, but remained silent, while Uncle Dick opened the gate and we entered.
As soon as we were inside the yard the bag was put under requisition again, a great screw-driver taken out, the lantern lit, and with all the skill and expedition of one accustomed to the use of tools, Uncle Dick unscrewed and took off the lock, laid it aside, and fitted on, very ingeniously, so that the old key-hole should do again, one of the new patent locks he had brought with him in the brown-paper parcel I had seen.
This took some little time, but it was effected at last, and Uncle Dick said:
“That is something towards making the place our own. Their key will not be worth much now.”
Securing the gate by turning the key of the new lock, we went next to the door leading into the works, which was also locked, but the key the agent had supplied opened it directly, and this time Uncle Dick held box and lantern while Uncle Jack took off the old and fitted on the second new lock that we had brought.
It was a curious scene in the darkness of that great stone-floored echoing place, where an observer who watched would have seen a round glass eye shedding a bright light on a particular part of the big dirty door, and in the golden ring the bull’s-eye made, a pair of large white hands busy at work fixing, turning a gimlet, putting in and fastening screws, while only now and then could a face be seen in the ring of light.
“There,” said Uncle Jack at last, as he turned the well-oiled key and made the bolt of the lock play in and out of its socket, “now I think we can call the place our own.”
“I say, Uncle Bob,” I whispered—I don’t know why, unless it was the darkness that made me speak low—“I should like to see those fellows’ faces when they come to the gate to-morrow morning.”
“Especially Old Squintum’s,” said Uncle Bob laughing. “Pleasant countenance that man has, Cob. If ever he is modelled I should like to have a copy. Now, boys, what next?”
“Next!” said Uncle Dick; “we’ll just have a look round this place and see what there is belonging to the men, and we’ll put all together so as to be able to give it up when they come.”
“The small grindstones are theirs, are they not?” said Uncle Bob.
“No; the agent says that everything belongs to the works and will be found in the inventory. All we have to turn out will be the blades they are grinding.”
Uncle Dick went forward from grindstone to grindstone, but only in one place was anything waiting to be ground, and that was a bundle of black-looking, newly-forged scythe blades, neatly tied up with bands of wire.
He went on from end to end, making the light play on grindstone, trough, and the rusty sand that lay about; but nothing else was to be seen, and after reaching the door leading into the great chamber where the water-wheel revolved, he turned back the light, looking like some dancing will-o’-the-wisp as he directed it here and there, greatly to the puzzlement of Piter, to whom it was something new.
He tugged at the stout leathern thong once or twice, but I held on and he ceased, contenting himself with a low uneasy whine now and then, and looking up to me with his great protruding eyes, as if for an explanation.
“Now let’s have a look round upwards,” said Uncle Dick. “I’m glad the men have left so few of their traps here. Cob, my lad, you need not hold that dog. Take the swivel off his collar and let him go. He can’t get away.”
“Besides,” said Uncle Bob, “this is to be his home.”
I stooped down and unhooked the spring swivel, to Piter’s great delight, which he displayed by scuffling about our feet, trying to get himself trodden upon by all in turn, and ending by making a rush at the bull’s-eye lantern, and knocking his head against the round glass.
“Pretty little creature!” said Uncle Bob. “Well, I should have given him credit for more sense than a moth.”
Piter growled as if he were dissatisfied with the result, and then his hideous little crinkled black nose was seen as he smelt the lantern all round, and, apparently gratified by the odour of the oil, he licked his black lips.
“Now then, upstairs,” said Uncle Dick, leading the way with the lantern. But as soon as the light fell upon the flight of stone stairs Piter went to the front with a rush, his claws pattered on the stones, and he was up at the top waiting for us, after giving a scratch at a rough door, his ugly countenance looking down curiously out of the darkness.
“Good dog!” said Uncle Dick as he reached the landing and unlatched the door.
Piter squeezed himself through almost before the door was six inches open, and the next moment he burst into a furious deep-mouthed bay.
“Someone there!” cried Uncle Dick, and he rushed in, lantern in hand, to make the light play round, while my uncles changed the hold of their stout sticks, holding them cudgel fashion ready for action.
The light rested directly on the face and chest of a man sitting up between a couple of rusty lathes, where a quantity of straw had been thrown down, and at the first glimpse it was evident that the dog had just aroused him from a heavy sleep.
His eyes were half-closed, bits of oat straw were sticking in his short dark hair, and glistened like fragments of pale gold in the light cast by the bull’s-eye, while two blackened and roughened hands were applied to his eyes as if he were trying to rub them bright.
Piter’s was an ugly face; but the countenance of an ugly animal is pleasanter to look upon than that of an ugly degraded human being, and as I saw the rough stubbly jaws open, displaying some yellow and blackened teeth that glistened in the light as their owner yawned widely, I began to think our dog handsome by comparison.
The man growled as if not yet awake, and rubbed away at his eyes with his big fists, as if they, too, required a great deal of polishing to make them bright enough to see.
At last he dropped his fists and stared straight before him—no, that’s a mistake, he stared with the range of his eyes crossing, and then seemed to have some confused idea that there was a light before him, and a dog making a noise, for he growled out:
“Lie down!”
Then, bending forward, he swept an arm round, as if in search of something, which he caught hold of at last, and we understood why he was so confused. For it was a large stone bottle he had taken up. From this he removed the cork with a dullFop! Raised the bottle with both hands, took a long draught, and corked the bottle again with a sigh, set it down beside him, and after yawning loudly shouted once more at the dog, “Get out! Lie down!”
Then he settled himself as if about to do what he had bidden the dog, but a gleam of intelligence appeared to have come now into his brain.
There was no mistaking the man: it was the squinting ruffian who had attacked us when we came first, and there was no doubt that he had been staying there to keep watch and hold the place against us, for a candle was stuck in a ginger-beer bottle on the frame of the lathe beyond him, and this candle had guttered down and gone out.
We none of us spoke, but stood in the black shadow invisible to the man, who could only see the bright light of the bull’s-eye staring him full in the face.
“Lie down, will yer!” he growled savagely. “Makin’ shut a row! Lie down or—”
He shouted this last in such a fierce tone of menace that it would have scared some dogs.
It had a different effect on Piter, who growled angrily.
“Don’t, then,” shouted the man; “howl and bark—make a row, but if yer touch me I’ll take yer down and drownd yer in the wheel-pit. D’yer hear? In the wheel-pit!”
This was said in a low drowsy tone and as if the fellow were nearly asleep, and as the light played upon his half-closed dreamy eyes he muttered and stared at it as if completely overcome by sleep.
It was perfectly ridiculous, and yet horrible, to see that rough head and hideous face nodding and blinking at the light as the fellow supported himself on both his hands in an ape-like attitude that was more animal than human.
All this was a matter of a minute or so, and then the ugly cross eyes closed, opened sharply, and were brought to bear upon the light one after the other by movements of the head, just as a magpie looks at a young bird before he kills it with a stroke of his bill.
Then a glimpse of intelligence seemed to shoot from them, and the man sat up sharply.
“What’s that light?” he said roughly. “Police! What do you want?”
“What are you doing here?” said Uncle Jack in his deep voice.
“Doing, p’liceman! Keeping wetch. Set o’ Lonnoners trying to get howd o’ wucks, and me and my mates wean’t hev ’em. Just keeping wetch. Good-night!”
He sat up, staring harder at the light, and then tried to see behind it.
“Well,” he cried, “why don’t you go, mate? Shut door efter you.”
“Hold the dog, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. “Bob, you take the lantern and open the door and the gate. Lay hold of one side, Dick, I’ll take the other, and we’ll put him out.”
But the man was wide-awake now; and as I darted at Piter and got my hands in his collar and held him back, the fellow made a dash at something lying on the lathe, and as the lantern was changed from hand to hand I caught sight of the barrel of an old horse-pistol.
“Take care!” I shouted, as I dragged Piter back. “Pistol.”
“Yes, pistol, do yer hear?” roared the fellow starting up. “Pistol! And I’ll shute the first as comes anigh me.”
There was a click here, and all was in darkness, for Uncle Bob turned the shade of the lantern and hid it within his coat.
“Put that pistol down, my man, and no harm shall come to you; but you must get out of this place directly.”
“What! Get out! Yes, out you go, whoever you are,” roared the fellow. “I can see you, and I’ll bring down the first as stirs. This here’s a good owd pistol, and she hits hard. Now then open that light and let’s see you go down. This here’s my place and my mates’, and we don’t want none else here. Now then.”
I was struggling in the dark with Piter, and only held him back, there was such strength in his small body, by lifting him by his collar and holding him against me standing on his hind-legs.
But, engaged as I was, I had an excited ear for what was going on, and I trembled, as I expected to see the flash of the pistol and feel its bullet strike me or the dog.
As the man uttered his threats I heard a sharp whispering and a quick movement or two in the dark, and then all at once I saw the light open, and after a flash here and there shine full upon the fellow, who immediately turned the pistol on the holder of the lantern.
“Now then,” he cried, “yer give in, don’t yer? Yes or no ’fore I fires. Yah!”
He turned sharply round in my direction as I struggled with Piter, whom the sight of the black-looking ruffian had made furious.
But the man had not turned upon me.
He had caught sight of Uncle Jack springing at him, the light showing him as he advanced.
There was a flash, a loud report, and almost preceding it, if not quite, the sound of a sharp rap given with a stick upon flesh and bone.
The next instant there was a hoarse yell and the noise made by the pistol falling upon the floor.
“Hurt, Jack?” cried Uncle Dick, as my heart seemed to stand still.
“Scratched, that’s all,” was the reply. “Here, come and tie this wild beast’s hands. I think I can hold him now.”
It almost sounded like a rash assertion, as the light played upon the desperate struggle that was going on. I could see Uncle Jack and the man, now down, now up, and at last, after wrestling here and there, the man, in spite of Uncle Jack’s great strength, seeming to have the mastery. There was a loud panting and a crushing fall, both going down, and Uncle Jack rising up to kneel upon his adversary’s chest.
“Like fighting a bull,” panted Uncle Jack. “What arms the fellow has! Got the rope?”
“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, rattling the things in the bag. “Can you turn him over?”
No sooner said than done. The man heard the order, and prepared to resist being turned on one side. Uncle Jack noted this and attacked the other side so quickly that the man was over upon his face before he could change his tactics.
“Keep that dog back, Cob, or he’ll eat him,” said Uncle Bob, making the lantern play on the prostrate man, whose arms were dexterously dragged behind him and tightly tied.
“There,” said Uncle Jack. “Now you can get up and go. Ah, would you, coward!”
This was in answer to a furious kick the fellow tried to deliver as soon as he had regained his feet.
“If he attempts to kick again, loose the dog at him, Cob,” cried Uncle Dick sharply.
Then in an undertone to me:
“No: don’t! But let him think you will.”
“You’ll hev it for this,” cried the man furiously.
“Right,” said Uncle Jack. “Now, then, have you anything here belonging to you? No! Down you come then.”
He collared his prisoner, who turned to kick at him; but a savage snarl from Piter, as I half let him go, checked the fellow, and he suffered himself to be marched to the door, where he stopped.
“Ma beer,” he growled, looking back at the stone bottle.
“Beer! No, you’ve had enough of that,” said Uncle Dick. “Go on down.”
The man walked quietly down the stairs; but when he found that he was to be thrust out into the lane he began to struggle again, and shout, but a fierce hand at his throat stopped that and he was led down to the gate in the wall, where it became my task now to hold the lantern while Uncles Dick and Bob grasped our prisoner’s arms and left Uncle Jack free to untie the cord.
“Be ready to unlock the gate, Cob,” whispered Uncle Jack, as he held his prisoner by one twist of the rope round his arms like a leash. “Now, then, ready! Back, dog, back!”
Piter shrank away, and then at a concerted moment the gate was thrown open, the three brothers loosed their hold of the prisoner at the same moment, and just as he was turning to try and re-enter, a sharp thrust of the foot sent him flying forward, the gate was banged to, and locked, and we were congratulating ourselves upon having ridded ourselves of an ugly customer, when the gate shook from the effect of a tremendous blow that sounded as if it had been dealt with a paving-stone.
Chapter Seven.A useful Ally.“Take no notice,” said Uncle Dick.We listened, and I laughed as I heard the rattling noise made by a key as if our friend was trying to get in, after which he seemed to realise what had been done, and went away grumbling fiercely.“Now for a quiet look round upstairs,” said Uncle Dick; and all being quiet and we in possession we turned in at the dark door to inspect our fort.There was something creepy and yet thoroughly attractive in the business. The place looked dark and romantic in the gloom; there was a spice of danger in the work, and the excitement made my blood seem to dance in my veins.“Hallo!” I cried, as we were entering the door; “there’s something wrong,” for I heard a rustling noise and a dull thud as if someone had jumped down from a little height.At the same moment we found out how useful Piter was going to be, for he started off with a furious rush, barking tremendously, and as we followed him to the end of the yard we were in time for a scuffle, a savage burst of expressions, and then my heart, which had been throbbing furiously, seemed to stand still, for there was a howl, a tremendous splash, then silence.“Quick, boys!” cried Uncle Jack. “Here, join hands. I’ll go in and fetch him out. Take the light, Cob.”I gladly seized the lantern and made the light play on the surface of the water where it was disturbed, and as I did so Piter came up from the edge whining softly and twitching his little stump of a tail.Then a head and shoulders appeared, and the surface of the dam was beaten tremendously, but so close to the edge that by standing on the stonework and holding by Uncle Bob’s hand Uncle Jack was able to stretch out his stick to the struggling man, to have it clutched directly, and the fellow was drawn ashore.He gave himself a shake like a dog as soon as he was on dry land, and stood for a moment or two growling and using ugly language that seemed to agree with his mouth.Then he turned upon us.“Aw right!” he said, “I’ll pay thee for this. Set the dawg on me, you did, and then pitched me into the watter. Aw reight! I’ll pay thee for this.”“Open the gate, Bob,” said Uncle Jack, who now took the fellow by the collar and thrust him forward while I held the light as the man went on threatening and telling us what he meant to do.But the cold water had pretty well quenched his fierce anger, and though he threatened a great deal he did not attempt to do anything till he was by the gate, where a buzz of voices outside seemed to inspirit him.“Hey, lads!” he cried, “in wi’ you when gate’s opened.”“Take care,” whispered Uncle Dick. “Be ready to bang the gate. We must have him out. Here, Piter.”The dog answered with a bark, and then our invader being held ready the gate was opened by me, and the three brothers thrust the prisoner they were going to set at liberty half-way out.Only half-way, for he was driven back by a rush of his companions, who had been aroused by his shouting.The stronger outside party would have prevailed no doubt had not our four-footed companion made a savage charge among the rough legs, with such effect that there was a series of yells from the front men, who became at once on our side to the extent of driving their friends back; and before they could recover from the surprise consequent upon the dog’s assault, the gate was banged to and locked.“Show the light, and see where that fellow came over the wall, Cob,” whispered Uncle Dick; and I made the light play along the top, expecting to see a head every moment. But instead of a head a pair of hands appeared over the coping-stones—a pair of great black hands, whose nails showed thick and stubby in the lantern light.“There, take that,” said Uncle Dick, giving the hands a quick tap with his stick. “I don’t want to hurt you, though I could.”By that he meant do serious injury, for he certainly hurt the owner of the hands to the extent of giving pain, for there was a savage yell and the hands disappeared.Then there was a loud scuffling noise and a fresh pair of hands appeared, but they shared the fate of the others and went out of sight.“Nice place this,” said Uncle Bob suddenly. “Didn’t take return tickets, did you?”“Return tickets! No,” said Uncle Jack in a low angry voice. “What! Are you tired of it already?”“Tired! Well, I don’t know, but certainly this is more lively than Canonbury. There’s something cheerful about the place. Put up your umbrellas, it hails.”I was nervous and excited, but I could not help laughing at this, for Uncle Bob’s ideas of hailstones were peculiar. The first that fell was a paving-stone as big as a half-quartern loaf, and it was followed by quite a shower of the round cobbles or pebbles nearly the size of a fist that are used so much in some country places for paths.Fortunately no one was hit, while this bombardment was succeeded by another assault or attempt to carry the place by what soldiers call acoup de main.But this failed, for the hands that were to deal thecoupreceived such ugly taps from sticks as they appeared on the top of the wall that their owners dropped back and began throwing over stones and angry words again.Only one of our assailants seemed to have the courage to persevere, and this proved to be our old friend. For as I directed the light along the top of the wall a pair of hands appeared accompanied by the usual scuffing.Uncle Dick only tapped them, but possibly not hard enough, for the arms followed the hands, then appeared the head and fierce eyes of the man we had found asleep.“Coom on, lads; we’ve got un now,” he shouted, and in another minute he would have been over; but Uncle Dick felt it was time for stronger measures than tapping hands, and he let his stick come down with such a sharp rap on the great coarse head that it disappeared directly, and a yelling chorus was succeeded by another shower of stones.We went into shelter in the doorway, with Piter playing the part of sentry in front, the dog walking up and down looking at the top of the wall growling as he went, and now and then opening and shutting his teeth with a loud snap like a trap.On the other side of the wall we could hear the talking of the men, quite a little crowd having apparently assembled, and being harangued by one of their party.“So it makes you think of Canonbury, does it, Bob?” said Uncle Jack.“Well, yes,” said my uncle.“It makes me feel angry,” said Uncle Jack, “and as if the more these scoundrels are obstinate and interfere with me, the more determined I shall grow.”“We must call in the help of the police,” said Uncle Dick.“And they will be watched away,” said Uncle Jack. “No, we must depend upon ourselves, and I dare say we can win. What’s that?”I listened, and said that I did not hear anything.“I did,” said Uncle Jack. “It was the tap made by a ladder that has been reared against a house.”I made the light play against the top of the wall and along it from end to end.Then Uncle Jack took it and examined the top, but nothing was visible and saying it was fancy he handed the lantern to me, when all at once there was a double thud as of two people leaping down from the wall; and as I turned the light in the direction from which the sounds came there was our squinting enemy, and directly behind him a great rough fellow, both armed with sticks and charging down upon us where we stood.I heard my uncles draw a long breath as if preparing for the fight. Then they let their sticks fall to their sides, and a simultaneous roar of laughter burst forth.It did not take a minute, and the various little changes followed each other so quickly that I was confused and puzzled.One moment I felt a curious shrinking as I saw the faces of two savage men rushing at us to drive us out of the place; the next I was looking at their backs as they ran along the yard.For no sooner did Piter see them than he made a dash at their legs, growling like some fierce wild beast, and showing his teeth to such good effect that the men ran from him blindly yelling one to the other; and the next thing I heard was a couple of splashes in the dam.“Why, they’re trying to swim across,” cried Uncle Dick; and we at once ran to the end of the yard to where it was bounded by the stone-bordered dam.“Show the light, Cob,” cried Uncle Jack; and as I made it play upon the water there was one man swimming steadily for the other side, with Piter standing at the edge baying him furiously, but the other man was not visible.Then the surface of the water was disturbed and a hand appeared, then another, to begin beating and splashing.“Why, the fellow can’t swim,” cried Uncle Jack; and catching his brother’s hand he reached out, holding his stick ready for the man to grasp.It was an exciting scene in the darkness, with the ring of light cast by the lantern playing upon the dark surface of the water, which seemed to be black rippled with gold; and there in the midst was the distorted face of the workman, as he yelled for help and seemed in imminent danger of drowning.He made two or three snatches at the stick, but missed it, and his struggles took him farther from the edge into the deep water close by, where the wall that supported the great wheel was at right angles to where we stood.It was a terribly dangerous and slippery place, but Uncle Jack did not hesitate. Walking along a slippery ledge that was lapped by the water, he managed to reach the drowning man, holding to him his stick; and then as the fellow clutched it tightly he managed to guide him towards the edge, where Uncle Dick knelt down, and at last caught him by the collar and drew him out, dripping and half insensible.“Down, dog!” cried Uncle Dick as Piter made a dash at his enemy, who now lay perfectly motionless.Piter growled a remonstrance and drew back slowly, but as he reached the man’s feet he made a sudden dart down and gave one of his ankles a pinch with his trap-like jaws.The effect was instantaneous. The man jumped up and shook his fist in our faces.“Yow’ll get it for this here,” he roared. “Yow threw me in dam and then set your dawg at me. Yow’ll hev it for this. Yow’ll see. Yow’ll—”“Look here,” said Uncle Bob, mimicking the fellow’s broad rough speech, “hadn’t yow better go home and take off your wet things?”“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me,” cried the fellow again.“Go home and get off your wet things and go to bed,” said Uncle Jack, “and don’t come worrying us again—do you hear?”“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me,” cried the man again; and from the other side of the pool the man who had swum across and been joined by some companions yelled out:“Gi’e it to un, Chawny—gi’e it to un.”“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg—”“Look here,” roared Uncle Bob, “if you’re not out of this place in half a minute I will pitch you in the dam, and set the dog at you as well. Here, Piter.”“Give’s leg over the wall,” growled the man.“No. Go out of the gate,” said Uncle Jack; and standing ready to avoid a rush we opened the gate in the wall and let the fellow go free.We got him out and escaped a rush, for the little crowd were all up by the side of the dam, whence they could see into the yard; but as we sent Chawny, as he was called, out through the gate, and he turned to stand there, dripping, and ready to shake his fist in our faces, they came charging down.Uncle Bob banged the door to, though, as our enemy repeated his angry charge:“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me.”Then the door was closed and we prepared for the next attack from the murmuring crowd outside.But none came, and the voices gradually grew fainter and died away, while, taking it in turns, we watched till morning began to break without any farther demonstration on the part of the enemy.“We’re safe for this time, boys,” said Uncle Dick.“Now go and have a few hours’ rest. I’ll call you when the men come.”We were only too glad, and ten minutes later we were all asleep on some shavings and straw in the upper workshop, while Uncle Dick and Piter kept guard.
“Take no notice,” said Uncle Dick.
We listened, and I laughed as I heard the rattling noise made by a key as if our friend was trying to get in, after which he seemed to realise what had been done, and went away grumbling fiercely.
“Now for a quiet look round upstairs,” said Uncle Dick; and all being quiet and we in possession we turned in at the dark door to inspect our fort.
There was something creepy and yet thoroughly attractive in the business. The place looked dark and romantic in the gloom; there was a spice of danger in the work, and the excitement made my blood seem to dance in my veins.
“Hallo!” I cried, as we were entering the door; “there’s something wrong,” for I heard a rustling noise and a dull thud as if someone had jumped down from a little height.
At the same moment we found out how useful Piter was going to be, for he started off with a furious rush, barking tremendously, and as we followed him to the end of the yard we were in time for a scuffle, a savage burst of expressions, and then my heart, which had been throbbing furiously, seemed to stand still, for there was a howl, a tremendous splash, then silence.
“Quick, boys!” cried Uncle Jack. “Here, join hands. I’ll go in and fetch him out. Take the light, Cob.”
I gladly seized the lantern and made the light play on the surface of the water where it was disturbed, and as I did so Piter came up from the edge whining softly and twitching his little stump of a tail.
Then a head and shoulders appeared, and the surface of the dam was beaten tremendously, but so close to the edge that by standing on the stonework and holding by Uncle Bob’s hand Uncle Jack was able to stretch out his stick to the struggling man, to have it clutched directly, and the fellow was drawn ashore.
He gave himself a shake like a dog as soon as he was on dry land, and stood for a moment or two growling and using ugly language that seemed to agree with his mouth.
Then he turned upon us.
“Aw right!” he said, “I’ll pay thee for this. Set the dawg on me, you did, and then pitched me into the watter. Aw reight! I’ll pay thee for this.”
“Open the gate, Bob,” said Uncle Jack, who now took the fellow by the collar and thrust him forward while I held the light as the man went on threatening and telling us what he meant to do.
But the cold water had pretty well quenched his fierce anger, and though he threatened a great deal he did not attempt to do anything till he was by the gate, where a buzz of voices outside seemed to inspirit him.
“Hey, lads!” he cried, “in wi’ you when gate’s opened.”
“Take care,” whispered Uncle Dick. “Be ready to bang the gate. We must have him out. Here, Piter.”
The dog answered with a bark, and then our invader being held ready the gate was opened by me, and the three brothers thrust the prisoner they were going to set at liberty half-way out.
Only half-way, for he was driven back by a rush of his companions, who had been aroused by his shouting.
The stronger outside party would have prevailed no doubt had not our four-footed companion made a savage charge among the rough legs, with such effect that there was a series of yells from the front men, who became at once on our side to the extent of driving their friends back; and before they could recover from the surprise consequent upon the dog’s assault, the gate was banged to and locked.
“Show the light, and see where that fellow came over the wall, Cob,” whispered Uncle Dick; and I made the light play along the top, expecting to see a head every moment. But instead of a head a pair of hands appeared over the coping-stones—a pair of great black hands, whose nails showed thick and stubby in the lantern light.
“There, take that,” said Uncle Dick, giving the hands a quick tap with his stick. “I don’t want to hurt you, though I could.”
By that he meant do serious injury, for he certainly hurt the owner of the hands to the extent of giving pain, for there was a savage yell and the hands disappeared.
Then there was a loud scuffling noise and a fresh pair of hands appeared, but they shared the fate of the others and went out of sight.
“Nice place this,” said Uncle Bob suddenly. “Didn’t take return tickets, did you?”
“Return tickets! No,” said Uncle Jack in a low angry voice. “What! Are you tired of it already?”
“Tired! Well, I don’t know, but certainly this is more lively than Canonbury. There’s something cheerful about the place. Put up your umbrellas, it hails.”
I was nervous and excited, but I could not help laughing at this, for Uncle Bob’s ideas of hailstones were peculiar. The first that fell was a paving-stone as big as a half-quartern loaf, and it was followed by quite a shower of the round cobbles or pebbles nearly the size of a fist that are used so much in some country places for paths.
Fortunately no one was hit, while this bombardment was succeeded by another assault or attempt to carry the place by what soldiers call acoup de main.
But this failed, for the hands that were to deal thecoupreceived such ugly taps from sticks as they appeared on the top of the wall that their owners dropped back and began throwing over stones and angry words again.
Only one of our assailants seemed to have the courage to persevere, and this proved to be our old friend. For as I directed the light along the top of the wall a pair of hands appeared accompanied by the usual scuffing.
Uncle Dick only tapped them, but possibly not hard enough, for the arms followed the hands, then appeared the head and fierce eyes of the man we had found asleep.
“Coom on, lads; we’ve got un now,” he shouted, and in another minute he would have been over; but Uncle Dick felt it was time for stronger measures than tapping hands, and he let his stick come down with such a sharp rap on the great coarse head that it disappeared directly, and a yelling chorus was succeeded by another shower of stones.
We went into shelter in the doorway, with Piter playing the part of sentry in front, the dog walking up and down looking at the top of the wall growling as he went, and now and then opening and shutting his teeth with a loud snap like a trap.
On the other side of the wall we could hear the talking of the men, quite a little crowd having apparently assembled, and being harangued by one of their party.
“So it makes you think of Canonbury, does it, Bob?” said Uncle Jack.
“Well, yes,” said my uncle.
“It makes me feel angry,” said Uncle Jack, “and as if the more these scoundrels are obstinate and interfere with me, the more determined I shall grow.”
“We must call in the help of the police,” said Uncle Dick.
“And they will be watched away,” said Uncle Jack. “No, we must depend upon ourselves, and I dare say we can win. What’s that?”
I listened, and said that I did not hear anything.
“I did,” said Uncle Jack. “It was the tap made by a ladder that has been reared against a house.”
I made the light play against the top of the wall and along it from end to end.
Then Uncle Jack took it and examined the top, but nothing was visible and saying it was fancy he handed the lantern to me, when all at once there was a double thud as of two people leaping down from the wall; and as I turned the light in the direction from which the sounds came there was our squinting enemy, and directly behind him a great rough fellow, both armed with sticks and charging down upon us where we stood.
I heard my uncles draw a long breath as if preparing for the fight. Then they let their sticks fall to their sides, and a simultaneous roar of laughter burst forth.
It did not take a minute, and the various little changes followed each other so quickly that I was confused and puzzled.
One moment I felt a curious shrinking as I saw the faces of two savage men rushing at us to drive us out of the place; the next I was looking at their backs as they ran along the yard.
For no sooner did Piter see them than he made a dash at their legs, growling like some fierce wild beast, and showing his teeth to such good effect that the men ran from him blindly yelling one to the other; and the next thing I heard was a couple of splashes in the dam.
“Why, they’re trying to swim across,” cried Uncle Dick; and we at once ran to the end of the yard to where it was bounded by the stone-bordered dam.
“Show the light, Cob,” cried Uncle Jack; and as I made it play upon the water there was one man swimming steadily for the other side, with Piter standing at the edge baying him furiously, but the other man was not visible.
Then the surface of the water was disturbed and a hand appeared, then another, to begin beating and splashing.
“Why, the fellow can’t swim,” cried Uncle Jack; and catching his brother’s hand he reached out, holding his stick ready for the man to grasp.
It was an exciting scene in the darkness, with the ring of light cast by the lantern playing upon the dark surface of the water, which seemed to be black rippled with gold; and there in the midst was the distorted face of the workman, as he yelled for help and seemed in imminent danger of drowning.
He made two or three snatches at the stick, but missed it, and his struggles took him farther from the edge into the deep water close by, where the wall that supported the great wheel was at right angles to where we stood.
It was a terribly dangerous and slippery place, but Uncle Jack did not hesitate. Walking along a slippery ledge that was lapped by the water, he managed to reach the drowning man, holding to him his stick; and then as the fellow clutched it tightly he managed to guide him towards the edge, where Uncle Dick knelt down, and at last caught him by the collar and drew him out, dripping and half insensible.
“Down, dog!” cried Uncle Dick as Piter made a dash at his enemy, who now lay perfectly motionless.
Piter growled a remonstrance and drew back slowly, but as he reached the man’s feet he made a sudden dart down and gave one of his ankles a pinch with his trap-like jaws.
The effect was instantaneous. The man jumped up and shook his fist in our faces.
“Yow’ll get it for this here,” he roared. “Yow threw me in dam and then set your dawg at me. Yow’ll hev it for this. Yow’ll see. Yow’ll—”
“Look here,” said Uncle Bob, mimicking the fellow’s broad rough speech, “hadn’t yow better go home and take off your wet things?”
“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me,” cried the fellow again.
“Go home and get off your wet things and go to bed,” said Uncle Jack, “and don’t come worrying us again—do you hear?”
“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me,” cried the man again; and from the other side of the pool the man who had swum across and been joined by some companions yelled out:
“Gi’e it to un, Chawny—gi’e it to un.”
“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg—”
“Look here,” roared Uncle Bob, “if you’re not out of this place in half a minute I will pitch you in the dam, and set the dog at you as well. Here, Piter.”
“Give’s leg over the wall,” growled the man.
“No. Go out of the gate,” said Uncle Jack; and standing ready to avoid a rush we opened the gate in the wall and let the fellow go free.
We got him out and escaped a rush, for the little crowd were all up by the side of the dam, whence they could see into the yard; but as we sent Chawny, as he was called, out through the gate, and he turned to stand there, dripping, and ready to shake his fist in our faces, they came charging down.
Uncle Bob banged the door to, though, as our enemy repeated his angry charge:
“Yow pitched me in dam and set dawg at me.”
Then the door was closed and we prepared for the next attack from the murmuring crowd outside.
But none came, and the voices gradually grew fainter and died away, while, taking it in turns, we watched till morning began to break without any farther demonstration on the part of the enemy.
“We’re safe for this time, boys,” said Uncle Dick.
“Now go and have a few hours’ rest. I’ll call you when the men come.”
We were only too glad, and ten minutes later we were all asleep on some shavings and straw in the upper workshop, while Uncle Dick and Piter kept guard.