'Dick!' cried Towzer, 'if we go over that I'll drop into it; it can't hurt much, and I'm not going up again.'
'Wal, no more am I, if I can help it, and I reckon Frank there doesn't want another ascent all by himself; so, if so be as we go anywheres near that water, let's all drop off at once, sonny.'
This having been agreed upon, Frank and Towzer were hurriedly freed from their cords.
The balloon was so low now that every moment the boys expected to be dashed against the earth, but, as luck would have it, she skimmed along like a great white owl in the moonlight, and hung for a moment over the pool. It was enough. There were three sharp plunges in the cool water, and when Dick and his companions came panting to the surface they had parted for ever from the ship of the skies. Looking up when they had gained the shore, they saw her sailing higher and higher, the moonlight seeming to gather about and rest upon her until she was the centre of a great halo.
'I ain't sure as them Injuns weren't right after all,' muttered Dick; 'dang me if I don't think as it is a sperrit.'
'Dick! let us go back to Snap,' was Frank's first remark after realising that once more they were masters, more or less, of their own actions.
'You're a good lad, Frank,' replied the old man heartily, 'but it won't do. We could do no good; they'd just scalp us, and we could not help Snap now anyway. Besides, do you think that lad could walk twenty miles?'
'Yes, Dick, yes, I could easily,' cried Towzer, struggling to his feet, but even as he did so he staggered.
The long fast, the peril and physical exertion of the last few days, had utterly worn the boy out, and in spite of his plucky efforts he could hardly stand.
'I know as your heart is strong enough, little 'un,' said Dick, 'but your legs have struck work. Just you lie right here with your brother while I look around for some'at to eat. There's some matches, Frank; see if you can make up a little fire;' and, so saying, Wharton left them.
After an absence of nearly an hour, during which Frank had contrived to kindle a fire with grass and twigs and game droppings, and his brother had fallen into a heavy, dreamless sleep, old Wharton returned. Putting his hand into his shirt front he drew out about a dozen roots, like small turnips. These he laid down by the fireside, and after trimming them a little with his knife made a place for them in the hot ashes, and set them therein to cook.
'Them'spommes blanches, Frank,' said Dick, 'leastways that's what the Crows call 'em. I reckon they learnt it from the French Canadians. Turnips I call 'em, and mighty good they are. Try one.'
Frank wanted no second invitation—cooked and uncooked was much the same to him; anything would not come amiss which would fill up the terrible vacuum which he felt inside him.
'Shall I wake the young 'un, Dick?' he asked.
'No, let him sleep a bit. When these things are cooked a bit we'll wake him. He would make himself ill, bolting thesepommes blanchesraw, if you woke him now.'
'Yes,' assented Frank, 'poor old Towzer! I expect, if he dined with an ostrich to-day, he would eat his share even of mashed soda-water bottles!'
'His share!' exclaimed Wharton, 'he'd starve that ostrich.'
By-and-by, thepommes blanchesbeing cooked, they woke the younger Winthrop, and, if they did not manage to satisfy his appetite, at any rate they finished the roots.
'Aren't there any more, Dick?' he asked.
'Not for supper,' replied the old man firmly.
'Well, then, let's begin breakfast, it is nearly morning,' urged the boy.
'No, no, sonny, we'll all go to sleep now if you please, and to-morrow we'll begin to work our way back to Rosebud,' said Wharton, and, suiting the action to the word, he lay down where he was, and slept or pretended to sleep.
When the boys opened their eyes it was broad daylight. Birds and insects hung over the pool, beasts had been down to it to drink in the night and had turned away frightened and disgusted at the human taint in the air. The hum and stir of life was all around them. It was quiet, perhaps, for earth, but how different from that dead, appalling silence through which they had sailed but yesterday! Frank almost wondered that the very sun's rays were not chilled and blighted in passing through so drear a region.
But where was Wharton? He certainly was not in sight. Had the old man gone for more food? if not, what had become of him? At the head of Towzer's bed, if a lair on the rough prairie may be so called, was a turnip cut in two, and on the smooth white surface was scratched with a burnt stick, 'Wait here, I'll be back soon'—that was all. Dick had guessed that the turnip would catch the hungry eye of Towzer as soon as he awoke, so he had made it his messenger. But it did not tell the boys much.
'It's not much good keeping this letter, is it, Frank?' asked Towzer.
'No,' replied his brother, 'why?'
'Well, you see there isn't much else for breakfast,' was Towzer's answer, 'let's halve it; do you prefer the page with the writing on, or the other?'
Frank laughed a very half-hearted and hollow laugh, and took the food offered him. He was older, and could not forget, even for the moment, as Towzer did.
'I wonder where Dick has gone to, young 'un,' he said after a minute or two of silence; 'I don't believe, now I come to think of it, that he did go to sleep when he pretended to last night. He didn't snore.'
'Well, then, he wasn't asleep,' asserted Towzer; 'but I can't tell you anything about Dick, for if he was shamming I wasn't.'
At that moment the quiet charm of the morning was roughly broken; a dozen rifle-shots echoed through the woods. Again and again came the sharp crack of the fire-arms and the rattling echoes and reverberations among the timber. Faint and far off, too, but still distinct, they heard the Indians' war-whoop, a sound weird as the wolf's call, and fierce as the Highlanders' slogan when the Camerons and Lochiels drove Leslie's pikes and Leven's troopers into the Garry's deepest pool. Man's hate or wild beasts' rage has found no note in which to express itself, more full of terror to those who hear it than the Blackfoots' war-whoop.
The boys sprang to their feet.
'Dick! Dick!' cried Frank in an agony of apprehension, 'have they got you too, old friend?'
'No, no, Frank, they would not take so many shots to kill Dick. Listen, it's a regular fight,' said Towzer practically. 'You bet it's Warwolf and his Blackfeet giving "gip" to those Crows. I wish I was there,' he added.
For half an hour the firing continued and then gradually ceased, one or two scattered shots telling the story of the retreat and the pertinacious and vengeful pursuit.
Towards midday a little band of horsemen emerged from the timber, and came galloping towards the pool, their long hair and the scalp trimmings of their deerskin shirts and trousers streaming behind them as they rode.
'It's all up, I suppose,' muttered Frank, and in his heart he was abusing his ill-luck, which had left him to fight his last fight with no weapons and a lame arm.
Still it was pretty certain that, unless they shot him from a distance, there would be one or two sturdy English blows struck before the two Winthrop boys were bound and helpless.
At that moment, however, there was no need of lighting. A loud shout drew their attention to one of the riders, his head bandaged in a piece of coloured cloth, which streamed behind him like the Indians' head-dresses, and in his hand a tomahawk, which had done enough work that day to make the reputation of a dozen Blackfoot chiefs. It was Dick Wharton riding the Cradle, and next moment he was alongside the Winthrops, together with Warwolf and half a dozen other long-haired braves.
After exchanging a few hurried sentences Wharton procured a lump of pemmican (dried meat) from Warwolf, and proceeded to feed himself and his young friends, the Blackfeet sitting silent and looking on solemnly the while.
'After I'd got you two to go to sleep,' began Wharton between the mouthfuls of pemmican, 'I got up and crept off to the timber.'
'Oh, then, you did play 'possum,' cried Frank; 'if you don't want to be found out, you shouldn't forget to snore another time, Dick!'
'Wal, you were too sleepy to try to stop me anyway,' continued Dick, 'and I couldn't rest in camp; I wanted to take a look at the Crows' camp and see if I could find poor Snap's body.'
Here a lump of pemmican seemed to go the wrong way and nearly choked him. When he had swallowed the obstruction he continued:
'About five miles from here I came on the Blackfeet—ran right into them; painters couldn't go quieter nor they were going, and they were all round me before I knowed rightly where I was.'
Here Warwolf, who understood English, smiled gravely, and, turning, repeated Dick's last sentence to his comrades, one of whom made a reply which seemed to express the sentiments of the rest.
'What are they grinning at, Dick?' asked Frank.
'Oh,' replied Dick, 'old Bear's-tooth said as it was only pale-faces who break twigs on the war-path. Wal, perhaps he's right. For sartin, they broke none to-day, but they broke a good many heads an hour or two later,' and the boys' eyes followed Wharton's to the gory trophies which hung by their long black locks from the girdles of the Blackfoot chiefs.
'Had our brother, the white hunter, been as ready with his scalping-knife as with his tomahawk,' interrupted Warwolf, 'there would have been more scalps at his girdle than at ours.'
It was a handsome speech from an Indian to a white warrior, and old Wharton acknowledged it.
'I don't spekilate much in that kind of fur,' he allowed; 'if I do take a fancy to trimming my shirt or pants, I rayther prefer grizzly to Crow.'
'Then you were at the fight, Dick?' asked Towzer.
'Oh, so you've time to make a remark, have you, young 'un?' said Frank; 'I've been watching you some time, and didn't know which would open widest, your eyes or your mouth.'
'Yes, I was at the fight, you bet,' replied Dick, 'and did what I could with this here handy little instrument; but I'd like to have had my six-shooter. Howsomdever, there ain't many Crows to kill now; we surprised them beautifully;' and the old man almost smacked his lips over the grim memory.
'If my brothers are ready,' said Warwolf when even Towzer had finished eating, 'we will start. As it is, we shall hardly reach the Crows' camp by the Lone Mountain before nightfall.'
'Right you are, Warwolf,' said Dick; 'come on. Here, young 'un, you get up on "the Cradle."'
It now appeared that the Indians had two more led horses with them, on which Dick and Frank mounted.
In spite of their previous exertions all were eager to reach the Crows' encampment, a hope of plunder urging on the Blackfeet, whilst the voice of hope, which never dies out in the human breast, kept whispering to the other three that it might just be possible—just possible—that Snap still lived.
It was in the grey of the morning, at that mysterious time when the earth is just beginning to think about awaking—before there is any sunlight in the sky—although the shamefaced whiteness of the stars suggests that a greater light than theirs is coming. All was still misty and undefined, a land of shadowy dreams, and the camp of the Crows was silent as a cemetery at midnight. The tall teepees, or tents of deerskin, looked white and ghastly, and the long fringes of scalp-locks which ran down their seams and fluttered from their poles whispered vaguely horrible things to that little chill wind which always precedes the dawn. By-and-by, if anyone had been listening (and surely the Crows should have had some sentinels about), a bird began to move restlessly among the dry leaves, which he rattled as noisily as if his wee body was as big as an elephant's. With a quick querulous chirp he fluttered away, and from time to time another bird woke, chattered, and followed him. Then it seemed to the pale morning star which was watching the camp, and which no doubt has seen many such sights before, that some of the trees were double, for one stem stood still whilst another parted from it, flitted for a moment across an open glade, and then disappeared. Presently these moving trees grew plainer, flitting hither and thither, swift and silent-footed Indians, or the ghosts of Indians, their long hair adorned with eagle-plumes and their lithe red bodies nearly naked. Then a heavier and better-dressed figure appeared, and three or four Redskins gathered round it. Bending down and listening, the star heard Wharton (for it was he) whisper to Warwolf:
'No! no! my brother, creep in like catamounts. These Crows are cunning as Satan, and like enough them deserted-looking tents is full of braves waiting to shoot you down as you charge. Scatter and come in on all sides separately, so as not to give 'em a solid lump to fire into.'
'Our brother is a great warrior, wiser than the serpent,' said Warwolf; 'let us take his advice;' and, so saying, he and his comrades disappeared again amongst the pines.
The Crows' camp looked for all the world as if animation had been suddenly suspended in it, as if in the full swing and vigour of life it had been frozen or paralysed. The teepees of beautifully tanned white deerskin, painted with all manner of quaint devices in red ochre and other bright pigments, stood with their flaps thrown back as if the occupants had just entered them. They were fine teepees, as well made and as big as any you will see on the North American continent, standing as much as twenty feet high, and some of them (one, at any rate) big enough to hold thirty men. On little rails of rough-cut boughs still hung some long strips of deer-meat, drying for winter use, while the hides of the beasts whose flesh this was, were pegged out upon the ground near the tents. On one skin lay a sharp-edged white instrument, the shoulder-blade of a wapiti, as if just dropped by the squaw who had been cleaning the skin with it. Over two fires in the open, hung big cauldrons. The fires were out, and looked grey and cheerless enough, but the coyote, who had been smelling round the camp all night, did not think that they were empty. By-and-by, when he grew bolder, he would drag them down, and, when he had upset them, feast on the meat inside. He had been telling his troubles to the moon all night, and his note was not a cheerful one; but even his coat stood bolt upright with terror, and his tail dropped between his legs, at the hideous yell which suddenly roused him from his lair amongst the rocks.
It was the war-whoop of the Blackfeet, and with it came the ring of a dozen rifles which had been fired at random into the silent tents. But they only roused the echoes. There came no answer, either in little jets of flame, or loud report, or dying groan. All was still. The tents were deserted, or the enemy was strangely patient in reserving his fire.
And now from tent to tent flitted the quick figures, and as tent after tent was entered and found empty the strange silence dissolved and the harsh voices of the warriors shouting to each other gave life and animation to the scene. Here a brave was dragging out a pile of rugs from a deserted tent, there another cut down the scalps from his enemy's tent-pole, or in rare cases laid hands on a rifle or tomahawk which its owner had not had time to take with him in his flight. In the midst of the camp stood one tent larger than all the rest, whiter than all, and richer in that costly trimming which can only be shorn from dead men's heads. Its sides were painted with demons and good spirits, its flap was closed, and a kind of ensign marked it as the tent of the tribal chief.
With a revolver in his hand which one of the Blackfeet had lent him, Dick Wharton approached this tent. Here, if anywhere, he would meet with resistance.
Kheelounha (the grizzly), greatest of all the Crow chieftains, was as brave a man as ever stepped. Whatever had scared away his comrades, he might well have returned, and be lying there behind the closed entrance of his own lodge, prepared to die as he had lived, steel in hand, and the warm blood of his enemies flowing round him in streams.
Dick Wharton listened with straining ear and caught breath, but no rustle of blankets, no breath, however faint, betrayed the presence of a living being. Well! a sudden dash is safer than a deliberate entry, thought Dick, and with a jerk he flung aside the skin-curtain and darted into the gloomy interior.
Quick as light a sinewy figure was upon him, its iron fingers fixed like claws of steel into his throat, and before his finger could touch the trigger of his beloved six-shooter a dexterous back-heel sent him crashing upon his back. As he fell the revolver flew from his grip, he saw the ugly steel flash above his head, while one hand pinned his throat, gagging and choking the life out of him. For a moment his eyes swam, and then a voice somewhere above, seemed to say, 'Dick.'
The old trapper was partially stunned by his fall, and as the word reached his ear the thought that he was already dead flashed through his mind, and this was Snap's first greeting on that further shore. But the hand on his throat had relaxed, and was shaking him now to rouse him, and, looking up half dazed, Dick Wharton saw, not Snap in the spirit, but the strong, wiry figure of the lad he loved.
'So you ain't Kheelounha, Snap! and I ain't a gone coon yet?' remarked Wharton; 'and my har is on still. But, sonny, how in thunder did you git here alive?'
'I'll tell you that by-and-by, old man,' laughed Snap, shaking him warmly by the hand, 'but why the deuce didn't you say who you were just now?'
'Wal!' replied Wharton, 'I dessay as I had oughter have sent in my paste-board first to know if you was at home, but you see me and them Blackfeet thought as the hull family had left for the season.'
'Oh, you've got the Blackfeet with you, have you?' said Snap, 'and all this time I've been skulking like a rat in a corner, shaking when I heard their infernal war-whoop, and only wondering if I could kill one or two before they whipped off my own scalp.'
'Wal, my boy,' retorted Dick, 'I guess you'd have made it awkward for some of 'em. It ain't a help to conversation to have them claws of yourn round a fellow's windpipe.'
'And now, where are the others, Dick?' said Snap.
'All outside somewhere,' replied Wharton; 'you'll like enough find Towzer seeing what he can find to eat. He hasn't got over his appetite since we came back to earth.'
I must ask my readers to let me skip the meeting between the three boys. The truth is, it isn't an easy thing to describe. To people who know nothing of Englishmen it would appear a very cold and heartless proceeding. The Redskin, perhaps, understands it better than other Europeans do. When he himself comes back from his very longest travels and meets the wife whom he has not seen for a year he never dreams of rushing into her arms, he doesn't even raise his hat or shake hands, but he just sits down at some distance from the family party and pretends not to know who they are. His relations imitate his manner, and when an hour or so has passed and they have got fairly used to each other's appearance he quietly mixes amongst the tribe without greeting or comment, and life goes on as usual.
A Russian would, of course, have wrapped his arms round Snap's neck, kissed him on both cheeks time after time, would very likely have done a little cry down the back of his neck, and then consoled himself with neat vodka and let off steam in cigarette-smoke. The boys simply said, 'Hulloh, Snap, old fellow!' and gripped his hand as if they wanted to hurt it; were very anxious to get him something to eat or drink or sit down upon, and very much ashamed of the colour which came into their cheeks, and couldn't for the life of them understand why the tops of the bull-pines had such a blurred and misty appearance at this time of day.
When the tents had all been ransacked and sentries and outposts stationed by the careful Blackfeet, determined not to be surprised in their turn, Dick Wharton re-lit one of the fires and warmed up the savoury mess of deer's-meat which it contained. That unfortunate coyote had missed his opportunity.
When they had somewhat appeased their appetites Frank turned to Snap.
'Now, old chap, if you don't mind, explain all this mystery to us. The last thing we know is that you dropped out of the skies and gave your life for ours. We aren't likely to forget that,' said Frank.
'You bet!' remarked Wharton with an emphasis which made Towzer drop the bone he was picking into the ashes.
'Oh, that's all skittles,' replied Snap disingenuously.
'I expect I must just have slipped off that ring somehow. You know I never was much good on a trapeze or anything of that sort at school.'
No one contradicted him. It wasn't necessary. Even the eloquence of an Irish Queen's Counsel could not induce boys to disbelieve their eyes.
'You remember,' he continued, 'what a fog there was when I tumbled out. I had just said, I remember, that I could make out the tops of the teepees through it. Well, so I ought to have done. We were quite close over the top of them, and when I fell, as luck would have it, I came bang down on to the side of one of them, bounced off again like a new ball from the wall of a racquet-court, and lay, I suppose, stunned, for some time on the grass. When I came to I was a little muddled, and what puzzled me more than anything when I began to understand things at all was that I was free, no thongs on my limbs, and not an Indian in sight. I tried my limbs one after another, in a deadly fright lest I should be unable to lift one of them, but they seemed all right, or at least I could use them. When I got up I felt, of course, an ache in every muscle, but nothing was broken, and, although even now I would rather sit on an air-cushion than on a pine-log, I really hurt myself very little by my fall; of course, if it had not been for the side of that friendly teepee, I should have been jam by this time.'
'Well, but, Snap, what about the Indians?' exclaimed Frank.
'As for them,' said his friend, 'I could not understand at first, and, although it seemed very unreasonable, kept suspecting a trap for some time. Of course, what really happened was this. When we heard the shouting of the warriors as the balloon bore down upon their camp, it was not a gathering cry which we heard, but the sound of a panic. They saw, not the balloon with their four enemies in it just going to drop into their hands, but they saw, or thought that they saw, the great white spirit of the Lone Mountain, incensed by their insolence in approaching too near to his throne, swooping down through the mists of evening like an eagle-owl upon his prey, and—well, they bolted!'
'That's it, Snap! that's it, sonny! You've read 'em like a book,' ejaculated Wharton. 'Do you remember as I said I couldn't understand them Injuns making such a tarnation row when they saw us a-coming?'
'I do,' replied Snap, 'and you were right.'
'I was, sonny, and I am going to be right this time, too, when I tell you that Bull Pine Park is as good property now for the firm as if it were fenced and railed in, with a regiment of Nor'-West police picketed in every corner of it. Them Injuns—them confounded Crows—will never put their hoofs inside our reserve again, you bet!' and the old cowboy lay back and laughed long and low as he thought of his enemies and the scare they had had.
'Frank,' he said after a while, 'you couldn't draw a balloon, could you? Just a rough outline, you know—a sort of a bubble with a boat at the bottom?'
'Yes, Dick, how will that do?' replied Frank, scratching out the required figure in the ashes at his feet.
'That's the ticket; leastways, if no one has any objection, that's the brand of the firm. What do you say, Snap? It ain't easy to get a new brand nowadays, and that will remind us of how we got our range,' said Dick.
'So be it, Dick,' replied he; 'but we must not forget about these papers,' and, so saying, he drew from the inside of his shirt the papers which had been taken by him from the German aeronaut's box A.
'So you stuck to them all the time, did you, Snap?' asked Towzer; 'do you think there is anything in it?'
'Anything in what,' asked Snap; 'in the papers?'
'No, I mean is it worth while bothering about what the old man asks? Don't you think he was mad?'
'Mad or sane,' was Snap's answer, 'I am going to do what he asks us. It may not be a paying speculation to go over to Europe to carry out his bequest on the chance of what we shall get out of his "few little houses at Potsdam" and our share of the patents, but it is a plain duty to the man whose death was, under Providence, the means of saving all our lives.'
'Snap is right,' assented Wharton, 'it don't do to go back on a pard as is dead.'
And so, on consideration, thought they all, and by the time the Indian camp had been thoroughly ransacked, and the victorious and heavily laden Blackfeet were ready to move, our friends had unanimously resolved to make their way back to Rosebud before the snows caught them and detained them for the winter.
It was a very near race, that race between the snow-king and Wharton's little party; but Wharton won, and until his return was explained met with unlimited chaff for what his companions called his want of 'sand.' However, his story put a new aspect on the matter, and all agreed heartily with the old foreman that if he had married a Blackfoot squaw and paid for the range in 'greenbacks' he would not have been more secure of enjoying quiet possession of Bull Pine Park than he was now.
Nares had left, so that they could get no help from him; but the cowboy is a generous and trustful fellow (it's not very safe to take him in, by the way, unless you are an unusually quick revolver-shot), and amongst the 'boys' at the ranche a purse was soon made up to take one of the lads to Berlin to execute the old professor's wishes.
Then arose a difficulty: who was to go? Clearly Snap ought to have gone, but he would not. Towzer was ready enough to go—he did not see much fun in getting up at dawn to feed frozen-out cattle—but unluckily a want of confidence in Master Towzer's capacity was felt, and, as old Dick said:
'No, my lad, you had a lot better stay here. If anyone's hide wants hardening it's yourn. Another six months here will do you no harm.'
'Another six months, Dick!' grumbled the lad, 'why, as far as we can see I am likely to grow up with the country as you call it.'
'No, you aren't, sonny,' replied Dick sadly; 'I'm afeard as that old German's inventions may steer a balloon after all, but they'll spoil three likely cowboys.'
'Notthreeanyway, Dick,' said Snap's voice at his side; 'there is one would rather be a cowboy here than a duke over there.'
Finally it was arranged that Frank should go.
'He is as level-headed as a Yankee lawyer,' said Dick, 'and, besides, his arm isn't all right yet. I'm thinking the frost got into it a bit.'
So Frank went, and the boys saw him off, papers and all, and stood for nearly a quarter of an hour looking along those bright metals which led so straight towards the east, the iron link which binds the old world to the new.
Just one more scene, readers, and then you must say good-bye to Snap and Frank, Dick, Towzer, and the author. I don't call you 'gentle' reader, as some fellows might do, because, though I like boys to grow up 'gentlemen,' I am not very fond myself of gentle boys—youngsters who sit in the drawing-room and do knitting and play the piano. I dare say they are good enough in their way, but they will never enjoy a merry bout with the boxing-gloves, or, when they grow older, a breathless scurry after stampeded cattle or a pack like the old Berkshire. And that last sentence brings me home again, of course.
It was a November morning at Fairbury, and the way the thrushes were whistling would have persuaded any but a hunting man that it was balmy April instead of bleak November. Bleak it certainly was not. The air was a little fresh and crisp, to be sure, and a good many of the leaves had fluttered down already, but the covers were still too thick to shoot, and the old cock-pheasants who were crowing lustily in the shrubbery last night knew that as well as old Admiral Chris, whose fingers had been itching ever since the first of October for a 'cut at a rocketer.'
'Uncle Chris always does kill a few "magpies" about the end of September,' had been Frank's verdict long ago, and I fear that the allegation was true in fact, for that keen old sportsman, used to shooting in an Indian jungle at everything he saw, from peacocks to a native gun-bearer, could not always resist the attractions of a precocious 'longtail.'
It was just nine o'clock; morning prayers were over, and the sun glanced off the old red brick and through the tree-boughs into the windows of the breakfast-room of the Hall. There it lit on a snowy cloth, glanced at a tempting pink ham and some cold game on the sideboard, peeped over the top of the plate-warmer before the fire, and discovered kidneys lying lovingly alongside little rolls of bacon (for all the world like the ringlets of the last generation) and many other good things. There was a pleasant aroma of coffee about the room; a glow of firelight within, and a more glorious glow of sunlight without.
Altogether it was a room the very memory of which makes me feel hungry and happy.
In the room, at the moment at which I ask you to peep into it, are four people: a little grey-haired lady in a dark dress, and a quantity of pretty feathery white things about her, as becoming as hoarfrost on an evergreen; and three men. You could not disguise the Admiral if you tried, so I won't try; but it is hard to believe that it is he indeed, for, instead of looking older, he looks positively juvenile, in spite of the old-fashioned blue stock which he wears.
Every friend will be there,And all trouble and careWill be left far behind——'
he hummed.
'And so will you, Chris, if you don't stop singing and rescue the kidneys from Willie,' interrupts Mrs. Winthrop, with a smile in her bright eyes.
'Oh, don't, mother, that's too bad of you, and you know it's my last chance before that North-west appetite arrives on the scene,' expostulates that young gentleman, arrayed in all the glory of white leathers, although an old shooting-coat still clothes the form which in another hour will blossom into pink.
'It's not like Snap to be so late,' said the Admiral, 'and the morning of the opening meet too!'
'You forget, Chris, that he didn't get here, could not have got here, until three this morning. How would five hours' sleep suit you, my brother?'
'Well, mother, the Admiral started early,' put in Frank. 'I heard the first gun ten minutes after you left the dining-room last night.'
'Pooh, pooh! boy,' puffed the indignant veteran, and would probably at that moment have conclusively proved to his disrespectful nephew that no Admiral ever snores; but just then there came a tap at the French window, and everyone rushed to open it. Another moment both Mrs. Winthrop's hands lay in Snap's, and his tall young figure bent as he kissed the little woman reverently on the forehead.
'God bless you, Snap!' was all she could say, and his answer came quite quietly:
'He has, dear—aren't we all at home again?'
And then, somehow, all settled quietly into their old places, only that there was a tendency on the part of everyone to follow Snap's every action with friendly eyes, anxious to discover something which they could do for their hero.
As for Snap, he was not such a prig as to think for a moment that this great change, or any of it, was his doing. 'Deuced lucky' was what he called it—in his own heart he had a more reverent way of speaking of it.
This November morning was just two years from the day when he and Towzer had stood watching the Eastern train disappear along the line, carrying Frank and the old German's papers with it. In Berlin Frank had found that the professor's name was as well known as the Kaiser's; more, that his name was known as well in London or Paris as in Berlin. Von Bulberg, the professor's friend, had received Frank with open arms, had gathered the scientists of the great city together to fête him and listen to his story, had helped him to find an honest and expert lawyer, and, between them, they had taken out the patents and executed every wish expressed in that last will and testament.
As for the 'few little houses at Potsdam,' the worthy aeronaut evidently set small store by the ordinary things of this earth. When a young man he had come into a very considerable property, of which he had spent very little, and ever since his inventions had been adding one small fortune to another, all of which had been invested in house property at Potsdam. The result was that when Frank's lawyer laid the accounts before him he found that an income of nearly 10,000l.a year would fall to the share of himself and his friends, as representing 'the few little houses at Potsdam.'
As the professor had no kith or kin, the boys had no scruple in taking the good things Providence had sent them, but I fancy that a very considerable portion of their share of the royalties on the professor's two patents finds its way to such institutions as Dr. Barnardo's Home for Boys and the like.
With their portion of the money Frank and Towzer had bought back the old home, investing all they had to spare in Snap's ranche, for neither persuasion nor anything else could tear him away from Dick and the Bull Pine Range, upon which these two partners had now got together as fine a herd as you will see in the North-west. After much correspondence and two years of waiting his old friends had at last induced him to come home for a winter's hunting.
Out West, Dick was in command, and under him was as smart a lot of riders as even he could desire. The cattle did well on the Bull Pine Range, being well sheltered among the bluffs round the Lone Mountain, so that during the winter there was no reason why 'the boss' should not come over to the old country for a spin with the hounds if he could afford it. And Snap could afford that, and a good deal more. Ten per cent. for your money would be marvellously good interest in any business in England; with luck, Dick and Snap did not think much of twice that at Bull Pine.
'So, Snap, I see your professor's patent is to be adopted by the Army,' remarked the Admiral.
'Yes, Lord W. has approved it, and what he approves is bound to "go" nowadays,' replied Snap. 'I should think they would be very useful for reconnoitring an enemy's position, for surveying the country generally, and taking messages from point to point.'
'That's all very well, but what are the other fellows going to do all the time? wouldn't they put a bullet into your great gas-bag and bring it down with a run?' demanded the Admiral.
'I think not, sir,' said Frank; 'we had a hole or two in ours, and she didn't come down as fast as we wanted her to always.'
'Besides, you forget, uncle,' added Towzer, 'that she would be a little "taller" even than the tallest rocketer, and you know they are too tall even for you sometimes.'
'Well, you may be right, Snap,' the Admiral allowed, taking no notice of Towzer's insinuations, 'but I'm glad that I shall never be Admiral of a fleet of those crafts.'
'You agree with Dick, sir,' said Snap; '"give me a cayuse," he says, "as'll buck itself out of its girths, as'll buck itself out of its skin, if you like, but no more of them bally balloons for me!"'
'Ah, well! here are our cayuses, Snap, and it is about time that we got into the saddle. It is a good four miles to the Lawn,' remarked Frank; while Towzer, always intent on creature comforts, was anxious to know what Snap would have in his flask.
'No spirits, thank you, old chap,' was the answer. 'I've brought a large supply of good ones of my own. Neither, whisky nor "tip" could compare to the spirits I am in this morning.'
Five minutes later they were in their saddles, the Winthrops in pink, dressed with all that scrupulous neatness which is essential for a soldier or a fox-hunter, and which comes amiss to no one. Snap was more quietly attired, but his was an easy figure for the tailor to fit, and when he rode up with his friends, the connoisseurs of men and of horses, who were chatting and smoking at the meet, decided with one consent that, though there might be a bow where there ought to have been a strap, a button too many or too few, yet, allowing for the fact that he was 'only a colonist,' that young Hales looked a good sort, and 'a workman, sir, all over.'
A 'workman all over.' It's hunting slang, I know, but it is the keynote of the English character still, thank goodness. If youcanwork andwillwork, and that work is honest and true, men will respect you, women admire you, and even the most exacting of relations forgive you what one may call vice, another mischief, an indulgent old sailor 'go,' or a Nor'-West cowboy, like Dick, 'sand.'
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