nies
‘sie
nse
(urmeattian
Re
al
ALL SAINTS’, UPLANDS,
SUNDAY SCHOOL.
————————_
Presented to
lake 7
PATIENCE WINS.
ae
CONCERNING MR. G. MANVILLE FENN
THE PRESS SAYS:
© Our boys know Mr. Fenn well, his stories having won for him a fore-
most place in their estimation.â€â€”Pall Mall Gazette.
“My, Manville Fenn may be regarded as the successor in boyhood’s
affections of Captain Mayne Reid.†—Academy.
“Who can write a better boy’s book, or who can point a finer moral, than
George Manville Fenn?â€â€”Schoolmaster.
“Myr. George Manville Fenn is wmongst the few authors who can write
such books as strike the fancy of intelligent lads. He has a bright, cheery,
manly style, which takes with the youngsters; his stories are never dull,
and he never ‘preaches,’ or if he does it is in such a fashion that the lads
do not detect it.â€â€”Nottingham Journal.
“Mr. Fenn has much of the inventiveness of the well-known French
writer Jules Verne; indeed, he is in the front rank of writers of stories for
boys. Parents specially ought to be very thankful to him for providing
their sons with so much wholesome and fascinating amusement in the way
of literature.â€â€” Liverpool Mercury.
Y YOW WEERN’T THEER,†SAID STEVENS,
K
“Tuc
PATIENCE WINS
OR WAR IN THE WORKS.
BY
G. MANVILLE FENN
Author of ‘* Bunyip Land;" ‘‘ The Golden Magnet ;†‘‘ Menhardoc;" “Brownsmith’s Boy ;"
“Tn the King’s Name;†“ Nat the Naturalist;†&c, &e.
WITH SIX PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
BLACKIE & SON, Liurrep, 49 OLD BAILEY, EC.
GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.
CHAP.
I.
III.
IV.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XATIT.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXXVI.
XXVII.
CONTENTS.
. A Faminy Councin, .
A Frery Prace,
A Bap BEGINNING,
Our ENGINE,
. A Nicur or ANXIETY,
“Do LET ME COME,†.
A USEFUL ALLY,
On GUARD, :
Drowning AN ENEmy,
“Nieut, Mare,†.
PANNELL’s PEt,
PANNELL’S SECRET,
Onty A GLASS oF WATER,
Uncie Bop’s Patient, .
I HAvE AN IDEA, .
SoMETHING FoR Mr .
My TRAVELLING COMPANION, .
AGAINST THE Law,
PANNELL says NoTHING,
A CoMPANION IN TROUBLE,
Wuat I Caucut AnD HEARD,
STEVENS HAS A Worp witH Mg,
I start ror A WALK,
Unctr Jack anp I HAVE A Roy, .
A TERRIBLE Risk,
FIRE AND Warten,
HicHT YEARS LATER,
Page
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
“LucKY YOW WEERN’T THEER,†SAID STEVENS, . . Frontis. 275
“PITER MADE A DASH AT THEIR Leas,†.... .. . 87
A TALK with PANNELL THE SMITH,. . . .... ~~. . 140
Cop’s ADVENTURE ON THE Rarttway,. . . - = + # « + 202
A PLUNGE INTO THE WHEEL-PIT, . . . . . «ee es 288
CoB HUNTED BY THE ARROWFIELD Mop, ..... : . 287
PATIENCE WINS:
OR WAR IN THE WORKS,
CHAPTER I.
A FAMILY COUNCIL.
SAY, Uncle Dick, do tell me what sort of a
place it is.â€
“Qh, yowll see when you get there
“Uncle Jack, you tell me then; what’s
1?
it like?â€
“Like! What, Arrowfield? Ask Uncle Bob.â€
“There, Uncle Bob, I’m to ask you. Do tell me
what sort of a place it is?â€
“Get out, you young nuisance!â€
“Whatashame!†I said. “Here are you three great
clever men, who know all about it; you've been down
half a dozen times, and yet you won’t answer a civil
question when you are asked.â€
I looked in an ill-used way at my three uncles, as
they sat at the table covered with papers; and except
that one would be a little darker than the other, I
could not help thinking how very much they were
alike, and at the same time like my father, only that
10 MY UNCLES.
he had some gray coming at the sides of his head.
They were all big fine-looking men between thirty
and forty, stern enough when they were busy, but
wonderfully good-tempered and full of fun when
business was over; and I’m afraid they spoiled me.
When, as I say, business was over, they were ready
for anything with me, and though I hada creat feeling
of reverence, almost dread, for my father, my three big
uncles always seemed to me like companions, and they
treated me as if I were their equal.
Cricket! Ah! many’s the game we've had together.
They'd take me fishing, and give me the best pitch,
and see that I caught fish if they did not.
Tops, marbles, kite-flying, football; insect and egg
collecting; geology, botany, chemistry; they were at
home with all, and I shared in the game or pursuit as
eagerly as they.
I’ve known the time when they’d charge into the
room at Canonbury, where I was busy with the private
tutor—for I did not go to school—with “ Mr. Headley,
Mr. Russell would like to speak to you;†and as soon
as he had left the room, seize hold of me, and drag me
out of my chair with, “Come along, Cob: work’s closed
for the day. Country!â€
Then away we'd go for a delicious day’s collecting,
or something of the kind.
They used to call it slackening their bands, and
mine.
Time had glided on very happily till I was sixteen,
and there was some talk of my being sent to a great
engineer's establishment for five or six years to learn
all I could before being taken on at our own place in
Bermondsey, where Russell & Company carried on
business, and knocked copper and brass and tin about,
ABOUT ARROWFIELD. ll
and made bronze, and gun-metal, and did a great deal
for other firms with furnaces, and forges, and steam-
engines, wheels, and lathes.
My father was “ Russellâ€â€”Alexander—and Uncle
Dick, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Bob were “Company.â€
The business, as I say, was in Bermondsey, but we lived
together and didn’t live together at Canonbury.
That sounds curious, but Pll explain:—We had two
houses next door to each other. Captain’s quarters,
and the barracks.
My father’s house was the Captain’s quarters, where
I lived with my mother and sister. The next door,
where my uncles were, they called the barracks, where
they had their bed-rooms and sitting-room; but they
took all their meals at our table.
As I said before things had gone on very happily till
I was sixteen—a big sturdy ugly boy.
Uncle Dick said I was the ugliest boy he knew.
Uncle Jack said I was the most stupid.
Uncle Bob said I was the most ignorant.
But we were the best of friends all the same.
And now after a great deal of discussion with my
father, and several visits, my three uncles were seated
at the table, and I had asked them about Arrowfield,
and you have read their answers.
I attacked them again.
“Oh, I say,’ I evied, “don’t talk to a fellow as if he
were a little boy! Come, Uncle Dick, what sort of a
place is Arrowfield?†‘
“ Land of fire.â€
“Oh!†Leried. “Is it, Uncle Jack?â€
“Land of smoke.â€
“Land of fire and smoke!†I cried excitedly. “Uncle
Bob, are they making fun of me?â€
12 NOT BOYS’ BUSINESS.
“Tand of noise, and gloom, and fog,†said Uncle Bob.
“A horrible place in a hole.â€
« And are we going there?â€
“Don’t know,†said Uncle Bob. “Wait and see.â€
They went on with their drawings and calculations,
and I sat by the fire in the barrack room, that is, in
their sitting-room, trying to read, but with my head
in a whirl of excitement about Arrowfield, when my
father came in, laid his hand on my head, and turned
to my uncles.
“Well, boys,†he said, “how do you bring it in?
What's to be done?â€
“Sit down, and let’s settle it, Alick,’ said Uncle
Dick, leaning back and spreading his big beard all
over his chest.
« Ah, do!†cried Uncle Jack, rubbing his curly head.
“Once and for all,†said Uncle Bob, drawing his
chair forward, stooping down, taking up his left leg
and holding it across his right knee.
My father drew forward an easy-chair, looking very
serious, and resting his hand on the back before sitting
down, he said without looking at me:
“Go to your mother and sister, Jacob.â€
I rose quickly, but with my forehead wrinkling all
over, and I turned a pitiful look on my three uncles.
“What are you going to send him away for?†said
Unele Dick.
“ Because this is not boys’ business.â€
“Oh, nonsense!†said Uncle Jack. “He'll be as
interested in it as we are.â€
“Yes, let him stop and hear,†said Uncle Bob.
“Very good. I’m agreeable,†said my father. “Sit
down, Jacob.â€
I darted a grateful look at my uncles, spreading it
DEBATING THE CAMPAIGN. 13
round so that they all had a glance, and dropped back
into my seat.
“Well,†said my father, “am I to speak?â€
“Yes.â€
This was in chorus; and my father sat thinking for
a few minutes, during which I exchanged looks and
nods with my uncles, all of which was very satisfactory.
“Well,†said my father at last, “to pub it in short,
plain English, we four have each our little capital
embarked in our works.â€
_ Here there were three nods.
“We've all tried everything we knew to make the
place a success, but year after year goes by and we
find ourselves worse off. In three more bad years we
shall be ruined.â€
“And Jacob will have to set to work and keep us
all,†said Unele Dick.
My father looked round at me and nodded, smiling
sadly, and I could see that he was in great trouble.
“Here is our position, then, boys: Grandison & Co.
are waiting for our answer in Bermondsey. They'll
buy everything as it stands at a fair valuation; that’s
one half. The other is: the agents at Arrowtield are
waiting also for our answer about the works to let
there.â€
Here he paused for a few moments and then went
on:
“We must look the matter full in the face. If we
stay as we are the trade is so depreciating that we
shall be ruined. If we go to Arrowfield we shall have
to begin entirely afresh; to fight against a great many
difficulties; the workmen there are ready to strike, to
turn upon you and destroy.â€
Uncle Dick made believe to spit in his hands.
14 THE RISKS TO RUN.
“To commit outrages.â€
Uncle Jack tucked up his sleeves.
“And ratten and blow up.â€
Uncle Bob half took off his coat.
“Jn short, boys, we shall have a terribly hard fight;
but there is ten times the opening there, and we may
make a great success. That is our position, in short,â€
said my “father. “What do you say?â€
My three uncles looked hard at him and then at one
another, seemed to read each other’s eyes, and turned
back to him.
“You're oldest, Alick, and head of the firm,†said
‘Uncle Dick; “settle it.â€
“No,†said my father, “it shall be settled by you
three.â€
“T know what I think,†said Uncle Jack; “but I'd
rather you'd say.â€
“My mind’s made up,†said Unele Bob, “but I don’t
want to be speaker. You settle it, Alick.â€
“No,†said my father; “I have laid the case before
you three, who have equal stakes in the risk, and you
shall settle the matter.â€
There was a dead silence in the room, which was so
still that the sputtering noise made by the big lamp
and the tinkle of a few cinders that fell from the fire
sounded painfully loud. They looked at each other,
but no one spoke, till Uncle Dick had fidgeted about
in his chair for some time, and then, giving his big
beard a twitch, he bent forward.
I heard my other uncles sigh as if they were relieved,
and they sat back farther in their seats listening for
what Uncle Dick, who was the eldest, might wish to
say.
“Took here,†he eried at last.
“LET'S ALL GO.†15
Everybody did look there, but saw nothing but
Uncle Dick, who kept tugging at one lock of his beard,
as if that was the string that would let loose a whole
shower-bath of words.
“Well!†he said, and there was another pause.
“Here,†he cried, as if seized by a sudden fit of
inspiration, “let’s hear what Cob has to say.â€
“Bravo! Hear, hear, hear!†cried my two uncles in
chorus, and Uncle Dick smiled and nodded and looked
as if he felt highly satisfied with himself; while I, with
a face that seemed to be all on fire, jumped up ex-
citedly and cried:
“Let's all go and begin again.â€
“That’s it—that settles it,’ cried Uncle Bob.
“Yes, yes,†said Uncle Dick and Uncle Jack. “ He's
quite right. We'll go.â€
Then all three beat upon the table with book and
pencil and compasses, and cried, “Hear, hear, hear!â€
while I shrank back into my chair, and felt half
ashamed of myself as I glanced at my father and
wondered whether he was angry on account of what I
had proposed.
“That is settled then,†he said quietly. “Jacob has
been your spokesman; and now let me add my opinion
that you have taken the right course. What I propose
is this, that one of us stays and carries on the business
here till the others have got the Arrowfield affair in
full swing. Who will stay?â€
There was no answer.
“Shall 1?†said my father.
“Yes, if you will,†they chorused.
“Very good,†said my father. “I am glad to do so,
for that will give me plenty of time to make arrange-
ments for Jacob here.â€
16 JACOB IS TO GO.
“But he must go with us,†said Uncle Dick.
“Ves, of course,†said Uncle Jack.
“Couldn't go without him.â€
“But his education as an engineer?â€
“Now, look here, Alick,’ said Uncle Dick, “don’t
you think he'll learn as much with us down at the new
works as in any London place?â€
My father sat silent and thoughtful, while I watched
the play of his countenance and trembled as I saw how
he was on the balance. For it would have been terrible
to me to have gone away now just as a new life of
excitement and adventure was opening out.
“Do you really feel that you would like Jacob to go
with you?†said my father at last.
There was a unanimous “Yes!†at this, and my
heart gave a jump.
“Well, then,†said my father, “he shall go.â€
That settled the business, except a general shaking
of hands, for we were all delighted, little thinking, in
our innocence, of the troubles, the perils, and the
dangers through which we should have to go
(322)
CHAPTER IL
A FIERY PLACE,
10 time was lost. The agreements were signed,
and Unele Dick packed up his traps, as he
called them, that is to say, his books, clothes,
and models and contrivances, so as to go
down at once, take possession of the works, and get
apartments for us.
I should have liked to go with him, but I had to
stay for another week, and then, after a hearty fare-
well, we others started, my father, mother, and sister
seeing us off by rail; and until I saw the trees, hedges,
and houses seeming to fly by me I could hardly believe
that we were really on our way.
Of course I felt a little low-spirited at leaving home,
and I was a little angry with myself for seeming to be
so glad to get away from those who had been so patient
and kind, but I soon found myself arguing that it
would have been just the same if I had left home only
to go to some business place in London. Still I was
looking very gloomy when Uncle Jack clapped me on
the shoulder, and asked me if I didn’t feel like begin-
ning to be a man.
“No,†I said sadly, as I looked out of the window
at the flying landscape, so that he should not see my
(322) B
18 MY FIRST COAL-PIT.
face. “1 feel more as if I was beginning to be a great
“Nonsense!†said Uncle Bob; “you're going to be a
man now, and help us.â€
“Am I?†said I sadly.
“To be sure you are. There, put that gloomy face
in your pocket and learn geography.â€
They both chatted to me, and I felt a little better,
but anything but cheerful, for it was my first time of
leaving home. I looked at the landscape, and the
towns and churches we passed, but nothing seemed to
interest me till, well on in my journey, I saw a sort of
_ wooden tower close to the line, with a wheel standing
half out of the top. There was an engine-house close
by—there was no doubt about it, for I could see the
puffs of white steam at the top, and achimney. There
was a great mound of black slate and rubbish by the
end; but even though the railway had a siding close
up to it, and a number of trucks were standing waiting,
I did not realize what the place was till Uncle Jack
said:
“First time you've seen a coal-pit, eh?â€
“Ts that a coal-pit?†I said, looking at the place more
eagerly.
“Those are the works. Of course you can’t see the
shaft, because that’s only like a big square well.â€
“But I thought it would be a much more interesting
place,†I said.
“ Interesting enough down below; but of course there
is nothing to see at the top but the engine, cage, and
mouth of the shaft.â€
That brightened me up at once. There was some-
thing to think about in connection with a coal-mine—
the great deep shaft, the cage going up and down, the
THE LAND OF FIRE. 19
miners with their safety-lamps and picks. I saw it all
in imagination as we dashed by another and another
mine. Then I began to think about the accidents of
which I had read; when men unfastened their wire-
gauze lamps, so that they might do that which was
forbidden in a mine, smoke their pipes. The match
struck or the opened lamp set fire to the gas, when
there was an awful explosion, and after that the terrible
dangers of the after-damp, that fearful foul air which
no man could breathe for long and live.
There were hundreds of thoughts like this to take
my attention as we raced on by the fast train till, to
my surprise, I found that it was getting dark, and the
day had passed.
“Here we are close to it,’ said Uncle Jack; “look,
my lad.â€
I gazed out of the window on our right as the train
glided on, to see the glare as of a city on fire: the glow
of a dull red flickered and danced upon the dense clouds
that overhung the place. Tall chimneys stood up like
black stakes or posts set up in the reflection of open
furnace doors. Here a keen bright light went straight
up through the smoke with the edges exactly defined
—here it was a sharp glare, there a dull red glow, and
everywhere there seemed to be fire and reflection, and
red or golden smoke mingled with a dull throbbing
booming sound, which, faintly heard at first, erew
louder and louder as the train slackened speed, and the
pant and pulsation of the engine ceased.
“Tsn’t something dreadful the matter?†I said, as I
gazed excitedly from the window.
“Matter!†said Uncle Jack laughing.
“Yes, isn’t the place on fire? Look! look! There!
there!â€
20 “LOOKS HORRIBLE!â€
I pointed to a fierce glare that seemed to reach up
into the sky, cutting the dense cloud like millions of
golden arrows shot from some mighty engine all at
once.
“Yes, I see, old fellow,†said Uncle Jack. “They
have just tapped a furnace, and the molten metal is
running into the moulds, that’s all.â€
“ But the whole town looks as if it were in a blaze,’
I said nervously.
“So did our works sometimes, didn’t they? Well,
here we are in a town where there are hundreds upon
hundreds of works ten times as big as ours. Nearly
everybody is either forging, or casting, or grinding.
The place is full of steam-engines, while the quantity
of coal that is burnt here every day must be prodigious.
Aha! here’s Uncle Dick.â€
He had caught sight of us before we saw him, and
threw open the carriage door ready to half haul us out,
as he shook hands as if we had not met for months.â€
“That's right,†he cried. “I am glad you’ve come.
I've a cab waiting. Here, porter, lay hold of this bag-
gage. Well, Cob, what do you think of Arrowfield?â€
“Looks horrible,†I said in the disappointed tones of
one who is tired and hunery.
“ Yes, outside,†said Uncle Dick; “but wait till you
see the inside.â€
Uncle Dick was soon standing in what he called the
inside of Arrowfield—that is to say the inside of the
comfortable furnished lodgings he had taken right up
a hill, where, over a cosy tea-table with hot country
cakes and the juiciest of hot mutton chops, I soon for-
got the wearisome nature of our journey, and the dis-
mal look of the town.
“Hat away, my boys,†eried Uncle Dick. “ Yeat, as
“ AVAST JOKING!†21
they call it here. The place is all right; everything
ready for work, and we'll set to with stout hearts, and
make up for lost time.â€
“When do we begin, uncle—to-morrow?â€
“No, no: not till next Monday morning. To-morrow
we'll have a look over the works, and then we'll idle
a bit—have a few runs into the country round, and see
what it’s like.â€
“Black dismal place,†I said dolefully.
“Says he’s tired out and wants to go to bed,†said
Unele Jack, giving his eye a peculiar cock at his
brothers.
“J didn’t,†I cried.
“Not in words, my fine fellow, but you looked it.â€
“Then I won't look so again,’ I cried. “TI say, don’t
talk to me as if I were a little boy to be sent to bed.â€
“Well, you're not a man yet, Cob. Is he, boys?â€
Unele Dick was in high spirits, and he took up a
candle and held it close to my cheek.
“What's the matter?†I said. “Is it black? I
shouldn’t wonder.â€
“Not a bit, Cob,†he said seriously. “You can’t even
see a bit of the finest down growing.â€
“Oh, I say,†I cried, “it’s too bad! I don’t pretend
to be a man at sixteen; but now I’ve come down here
to help you in the new works, you oughtn’t to treat
me as if I were a little boy.â€
“Avast joking!†said Uncle Dick quietly, for the
comely landlady came in to clear away the tea-things,
and she had just finished when there was a double
knock at the front door.
We heard it opened, and a deep voice speaking, and
directly after the landlady came in with a card.
“Mr. Tomplin, gentlemen,†she said. “He’s at the
22 “WELCOME TO YORKSHIRE!â€
door, and I was to say that if it was inconvenient for
you to see him to-night, perhaps you would call at his
office when you were down the town.â€
“Oh, ask him in, Mrs. Stephenson,†cried Uncle Dick ;
and as she left the room—“it’s the solicitor to whom I
brought the letter of introduction from the bank.â€
It was a short dark man in black coat and waistcoat
and pepper-and-salt trousers who was shown in. He
had little sharp eyes that seemed to glitter. So did
his hair, which was of light-gray, and stood up all over
his head as if it was on white fire. He had not a par-
ticle of hair on his face, which looked as if he was a
. very good customer to the barber.
He shook hands very heartily with all of us, nodding
pleasantly the while; and when he sat down he took
out a brown-and-yellow silk handkerchief and blew
his nose like a horn.
“Welcome to Yorkshire, gentlemen!†he said. “My
old friends at the bank send me a very warm letter of
recommendation about you, and I’m at your service.
Professional consultations at the usual fee, six and
eight or thirteen and four, according to length. Friendly
consultations—Thank you, ’m much obliged. This is
a friendly consultation. Now what can I do for you?â€
He looked round at us all, and I felt favourably im-
pressed. So did my uncles, as Uncle Dick answered
for all.
“Nothing at present, sir. By and by we shall be
glad to come to you for legal and friendly advice too.â€
“That's right,†said Mr. Tomplin. “You've taken
the Rivulet Works, I hear.â€
“Yes, down there by the stream.â€
“What are you going to do?—carry on the old forg-
ing and grinding?â€
SUGGESTIONS OF DANGER. 23
“Qh, dear, no!†said Uncle Dick. “We are going in
for odds and ends, sir. To introduce, I hope, a good
many improvements in several branches of the trades
carried on here, principally in forging.â€
Mr. Tomplin drew in his lips and filled his face
with wrinkles.
“Going to introduce new inventions, eh?†he said.
“Yes, sir, but only one at a time,†said Uncle Jack.
“ And have you brought a regiment of soldiers with
you, gentlemen?â€
“Brought a what?†said Uncle Bob, laughing.
“Regiment of soldiers, sir, and a company of artil-
lerymen with a couple of guns.â€
“Ha! ha! ha!†laughed Uncle Dick, showing his
white teeth. “Mr. Tomplin means to besiege Arrow-
field.â€
“No, I don’t, my dear sir. J mean to turn your
works into a fort to defend yourselves against your
enemies.
“My dear sir,†said Uncle Jack, “we haven’t an
enemy in the world.â€
“Not at the present moment, sir, Pl be bound,†said
Mr. Tomplin, taking snuff, and then blowing his nose
so violently that I wondered he did not have an acci-
dent with it and split the sides. “Not at the present
moment, gentlemen; but as soon as it is known that
you are going to introduce new kinds of machinery,
our enlightened townsmen will declare you are going
to take the bread out of their mouths and destroy
everything you make.â€
“Take the bread out of their mouths, my dear Mr.
Tomplin!†said Uncle Jack. “Why, what we do will
put bread in their mouths by making more work.â€
“Of course it will, my dear sirs.â€
24 A CHEERFUL PLACE.
“Then why should they interfere?â€
“Because of their ignorance, gentlemen. They
won't see it. Take my advice: there’s plenty to be
done by clever business men. Start some steady manu-
facture to employ hands as the work suggests. Only
use present-day machinery if you wish to be at peace.â€
“We do wish to be at peace, Mr. Tomplin,†said
Uncle Bob; “but we do not mean to let a set of igno-
rant workmen frighten us out of our projects.â€
“Hear, hear!†said Uncle Dick and Uncle Jack; and
I put in a small “hear†at the end.
“Well, gentlemen, I felt it to be my duty to tell
you,†said Mr. Tomplin, taking more snuff and making
more noise. “You will have attacks made upon you
to such an extent that you had better be in the bush
in Queensland among the blacks.â€
“But not serious attacks?†said Unele Jack. “ At-
tempts to frighten us?â€
“Attempts to frighten you! Well, you may call
them that,†said Mr. Tomplin; “but there have been
two men nearly beaten to death with sticks, one factory
set on fire, and two gunpowder explosions during the
past year. Take my advice, gentlemen, and don’t put
yourself in opposition to the workmen if you are going
to settle down here.â€
He rose, shook hands, and went away, leaving us
looking at each other across the table.
“ Cheerful place Arrowfield seems to be,†said Uncle
Dick.
“Promises to be lively,†said Uncle Jack.
“What do you say, Cob?†cried Uncle Bob. “Shall
we give up, be frightened, and run away like dogs
with our tails between our legs?â€
“No!†I cried, thumping the table with my fist.
AN ALARM OF FIRE. 25
“T wouldn’t be frightened out of anything I felt to be
right.â€
“Bravo! bravo! bravo!†cried my uneles.
“ At least I don’t think I would,†I said. “Perhaps
I really am a coward after all.â€
“Well,†said Uncle Dick, “I don’t feel like giving up
for such a thing as this. Id sooner buy pistols and
guns and fight. It can’t be so bad as the old gentle-
man says. He’s only scaring us. There, it’s ten
o'clock; you fellows are tired, and we want to break-
fast early and go and see the works, so let’s get to
bed.â€
We were far enough out of the smoke for our bed-
rooms to be beautifully white and sweet, and I was
delighted with mine, as I saw what a snug little place
it was. I said “Good-night!†and had shut my door,
when, going to my window, I drew aside the blind, and
found that I was looking right down upon the town.
“Oh!†I ejaculated, and I ran out to the next room,
which was Uncle Dick’s. “Look!†I eried. “Now
you'll believe me. The town is on fire.â€
. He drew up the blind, and threw up his window,
when we both looked down at what seemed to be the
dying out of a tremendous conflagration—dying out,
save in one place, where there was a furious rush of
light right up into the air, with sparks flying and
flickering tongues of flame darting up and sinking
down again, while the red and tawny-yellow smoke
rolled away.
“On fire, Cob!†he said quietly. “Yes, the town’s
on fire, but in the proper way. Arrowfield is a fiery
place—all furnaces. There’s nothing the matter, lad.â€
“But there! there!†I cried, “where the sparks are
roaring and rushing out with all that flame.â€
26 THE BESSEMER STEEL.
“There! Oh! that’s nothing, my boy. The town is
always like this.â€
“But you don’t see where I mean,†I cried, still
doubting, and pointing down to our right.
“Oh, yes! I do, my dear boy. That is where they
are making the Bessemer steel.â€
[EQ G
e
/| ‘i
CHAPTER III.
A BAD BEGINNING.
1} THOUGHT when I lay down, after putting
out my candle, that I should never get a
wink of sleep. There was a dull glow upon
my window-blind, and I could hear a dis-
tant clangour and a curious faint roar; but all at once,
so it seemed to me, I opened my eyes, and the dull glow
had given place to bright sunshine on my window-
blind, and jumping out of bed I found that I had slept
heartily till nearly breakfast time, for the chinking of
cups in saucers fell upon my ear.
I looked out of the window, and there lay the town
with the smoke hanging over it in a dense cloud, but
the banging of a wash-jug against a basin warned me
that Unele Dick was on the move, and the next mo-
ment tap, tap, twp, came three blows on my wall, which
I knew as well as could be were given with the edge
of a hair-brush, and I replied in the same way.
“Ha, ha!†eried Uncle Bob, “if they are going to
give us fried ham like that for breakfast—â€
“ And such eggs!†eried Uncle Jack.
“And such bread!†said Uncle Dick, hewing off a
great slice.
“And such coffee and milk!†I said, taking up the
28 A LOOK AT THE NATIVES,
idea that I was sure was coming, “we won't go back
to London.â€
“Right!†said Uncle Dick. “Bah! just as if we were
going to be frightened away by a set of old women’s
tales. They've got police here, and laws.â€
The matter was discussed until breakfast was over,
and by that time my three giants of uncles had de-
cided that they would not stir for an army of discon-
tented workmen, but would do their duty to them-
selves and their partner in London.
“But look here, boys,†said Uncle Dick; “if we are
going to war, we don’t want women in the way.â€
“No,†said Uncle Jack.
“So you had better write and tell Alick to keep on
the old place till the company must have it, and by that
time we shall know what we are about.â€
This was done directly after breakfast, and as soon
as the letter had been despatched we went off to see
the works.
“J shall never like this place,†I said, as we went
down towards the town. “London was smoky enough,
but this is terrible.â€
“Oh, wait a bit!†said Uncle Dick, and as we strode
on with me trying to take long steps to keep up with
my companions, I could not help seeing how the people
kept staring at them. And though there were plenty
of big fine men in the town, I soon saw that my uncles
stood out amongst them as being remarkable for their
size and frank handsome looks. This was the more
plainly to be seen, since the majority of the workpeople
we passed were pale, thin, and degenerate looking little
men, with big muscular arms, and a general appearance
of everything else having been sacriticed to make those
limbs strong.
THE SOUNDS OF LABOUR. 29
The farther we went the more unsatisfactory the
town looked. We were leaving the great works to
the right, and our way lay through streets and streets
of dingy-looking houses all alike, and with the open
channels in front foul with soapy water and the refuse
which the people threw out.
I looked up with disoust painted on my face so
strongly that Uncle Bob laughed.
“Here, let’s get this fellow a bower somewhere by a
beautiful stream,†he cried, laughing. Then more
seriously, “Never mind the dirt, Cob,†he cried. “Dirty
work brings clean money.â€
“Oh, I don’t mind,†I said. “Which way now?â€
“Down here,’ said Uncle Dick; and he led us downa
nasty dirty street, worse than any we had yet passed,
and so on and on, for about half an hour, till we were
onee more where wheels whirred, and we could hear
the harsh churring noise of blades being held upon
rapidly revolving stones. Now and then, too, I caught
sight of water on our right, down through lanes where
houses and works were crowded together.
“Do you notice one thing, Cob?†said Uncle Dick.
“One thing!†I said; “there’s so much to notice that
I don’t know what to look at first.â€
“Tl tell you what I mean,†he said. ‘You can hear
the rush and rumble of machinery, can’t you?â€
“Yes,†I said, “like wheels whizzing and stones rolling,
as if giant tinkers were grinding enormous scissors.â€
“Exactly,†he said; “but you very seldom hear the
hiss of steam out here.â€
“No. Have they a different kind of engines?â€
“Yes, a very different kind. Your steam-engine goes
because the water is made hot: these machines go with
the water kept cold.â€
30 OUR WORKS.
“Oh, I see! by hydraulic presses.â€
“No, not by hydraulic presses, Cob; by hydraulic
power. Look here.â€
We were getting quite in the outskirts now, and on
rising ground, and, drawing me on one side, he showed
me that the works we were by were dependent on
water-power alone.
“Why, it’s like one of those old flour-mills up the
country rivers,’ I exclaimed, “with their mill-dam, and
water-wheel.â€
“And without the willows and lilies and silver but-
tercups, Cob,†said Uncle Jack.
“And the great jack and chub and tench we used to
fish out,†said Uncle Bob.
“Yes,†I said; “I suppose one would catch old sauce-
pans, dead cats, and old shoes in a dirty pool like
this.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Dick, “and our wheel-bands when
the trades’-union people attack us.â€
“Why should they throw them in here?†I said, as
I looked at the great deep-looking piece of water held
up by a strong stone-built dam, and fed by a stream
at the farther end.
“ Because it would be the handiest place. These are
our works.â€
I looked at the stone-built prison-like place in dis-
gust. It was wonderfully strongly built, and with
small windows protected by iron bars, but such a deso-
late unornamental spot. It stood low down by the
broad shallow stream that ran on toward the town in
what must once have been the bed of the river; but
the steep banks had been utilized by the builders on
each side, and everywhere one saw similar-looking
places so arranged that their foundation walls caught
THEIR GEOGRAPHY. 31
and held up the water that came down, and was
directed into the dam, and trickled out at the lower
end after it had turned a great slimy water-wheel.
“This is our place, boys; come and have a look at it.â€
He led us down a narrow passage half-way to the
stream, and then rang at a gate in a stone wall; and
while we waited low down there I looked
at the high rough stone wall and the two- guty ot
storied factory with its rows of strong iron- ¢ stteam,
barred windows, and thought of what Mr.
Tomplin had said the night before, coming
to the conclusion that it was a pretty strong
fortress in its way. For here was a stout
high wall; down along by the stream
there was a high blank wall right
from the stones over which the water
trickled to the double row of little
windows; while from the top cor-
ner by the water-wheel, which was
fixed at the far end of the
works, there was the dam of
deep water, which acted the
part of a moat, running off
almost to a point where
the stream came in, so
that the place was about
the shape of the annexed triangle: the works occupy-
ing the whole of the base, the rest being the deep
stone-walled dam.
“J think we could keep out the enemy if he came,â€
I said to Uncle Bob; and just then a short-haired, pale-
faced man, with bent shoulders, bare arms, and an ugly
squint, opened the gate and scowled at us.
“Ts your master in?†said Uncle Dick,
Qa 2
The river.
QD
s
3
=
‘The works.
32 A ROUGH CUSTOMER.
“No-ah,†said the man sourly; “and he wean’t be here
to-day.â€
“That’s a bad job,†said Uncle Dick. “ Well, never
mind; we want to go round the works.â€
“Nay, yow wean’t come in here.â€
He was in the act of banging the gate, but Uncle
Dick placed one of his great brown hands against it
and thrust it open, driving the man back, but only
for a moment, for he flew at my uncle, caught him by
the arm and waist, thrust forward a lee, and tried to
throw him out by a clever wrestling trick.
But Uncle Dick was too quick for him. Wrenching
himself on one side he threw his left arm over the
fellow’s neck, as he bent down, the right arm under
his leg, and whirled him up perfectly helpless, but
kiekine with all his might.
“Come inside and shut that gate,†said Uncle Dick,
panting with his exertion. “Now look here, my fine
fellow, it would serve you right if I dropped you into
that dam to cool you down. But there, get on your
legs,†he eried contemptuously, “and learn to be civil
to strangers when they come.â€
The scuffle and noise brought about a dozen work-
men out of the place, each in wooden clogs, with a
rough wet apron about him, and his sleeves rolled up
nearly to the shoulder.
They came forward, looking very fierce and as if they
were going to attack us, headed by the fellow with the
squint, who was no sooner at liberty than he snatched
up a rough piece of iron bar and rolled up his right
sleeve ready for a fresh attack,
“Give me that stick, Cob,†said Uncle Dick quickly;
and I handed him the light Malacca cane I carried.
He had just seized it when the man raised the iron
A QUEER RECEPTION. 33
bar, and I felt sick as I saw the blow that was aimed
at my uncle’s head.
I need not have felt troubled though, for, big as he
was, he jumped aside, avoided the bar with the greatest
ease, and almost at the same moment there was a
whizz and a cut like lightning delivered by Uncle
Dick with my light cane.
It struck the assailant on the tendons of the leg be-
neath the knee, and he uttered a yell and went down
as if killed.
“Coom on, lads!†cried one of the others; and they
rushed towards us, headed by a heavy thick-set fellow;
but no one flinched, and they hesitated as they came
close up.
“Take that fellow away,†said Uncle Jack sternly;
“and look here, while you stay, if any gentleman
comes to the gate don’t send a surly dog like that.â€
“Who are yow?) What d’ye want? Happen yow'll
get some’at if yo’ stay.â€
“T want to go round the place. I am one of the
proprietors who have taken it.â€
“Kh, you be—be you? Here, lads, this is one 0’
chaps as is turning us out. We've got the wheels ti’
Saturday, and we wean’t hey no one here.â€
“No, no,’ rose in chorus. “Open gate, lads, and
hev ’em out.â€
“Keep back!†said Uncle Dick, stepping forward;
“keep back, unless you want to be hurt. No one is
going to interfere with your rights, which end on
Saturday night.â€
“Kh! but if it hedn’t been for yow we could ha’
kep’ on.â€
“Well, youll have to get some other place,†said
Uncle Dick; “we want this.â€
(322) c
(22
34 A SHOWER—NOT RAIN.
He turned his back on them and spoke to his bro-
thers, who both, knowing their great strength, which
they cultivated by muscular exercise, had stood quite
calm and patient, but watchful, and ready to go to
their brother’s aid in an instant should he need assis-
tance.
“Come on and look round,†said Uncle Dick coolly;
and he did not even glance at the squinting man, who
had tried to get up, but sank down again and sat
grinning with pain and holding his injured leg.
The calm indifference with which my three uncles
towered above the undersized, pallid-looking fellows,
and walked by them to the entrance to the stone
building had more effect than a score of blows, and
the men stopped clustered round their companion, and
talked to him in a low voice. But I was not six feet
two like Uncle Bob, nor six feet one like Uncle Jack,
nor six feet three like Uncle Dick. I was only an
ordinary lad of sixteen, and much easier prey for their
hate, and this they saw and showed.
For as I followed last, and was about to enter the
door, a shower of stones and pieces of iron came whiz-
zing about me, and falling with a rattle and clangour
upon the cobble stones with which the place was
paved.
Unfortunately, one piece, stone or iron, struck me
on the shoulder, a heavy blow that made me feel sick,
and I needed all the fortitude I could call up to hide
my pain, for I was afraid to say or do anything that
would cause fresh trouble.
So I followed my uncles into the spacious ground-
floor of the works, all wet and dripping with the water
from the grindstones which had just been left by the
men, and were still whizzing round waiting to be used.
THE WATER-WHEEL. 35
“ Plenty of room here,†said Uncle Dick, “and plenty
of power, you see,†he continued, pointing to the shaft
and wheels above our heads. “Ugly-looking place
this,’ he went on, pointing to a trap-door at the end,
which he lifted; and I looked down with a shudder to
see a great shaft turning slowly round; and there was
a slimy set of rotten wooden steps going right down
into the blackness, where the water was falling with a
curiously hollow echoing sound.
As I turned from looking down I saw that the men
had followed us, and the fellow with the squint seemed
to have one of his unpleasant eyes fixed upon me, and
he gave me a peculiar look and grin that I had good
reason to remember.
“This is the way to the big wheel,†said Uncle Dick,
throwing open a door at the end. “They go out here
to oil and repair it when it’s out of gear. Nasty spot
too, but there’s a wonderful supply of cheap power.â€
With the men growling and muttering behind us,
we looked through into a great half-lit stone cham-
ber that inclosed the great wheel on one side, leaving
a portion visible as we had seen it from the outside;
and here again I shuddered and felt uncomfortable, it
seemed such a horrible place to fall into and from which
there would be no escape, unless one could swim in
the surging water below, and then clamber into the
wheel, and climb through it like a squirrel.
The walls were dripping and green, and they echoed
and seemed to whisper back to the great wheel as it
turned and splashed and swung down its long arms,
each doubling itself on the wall by making a moving
shadow.
The place had such a fascination for me that I stood
with one hand upon the door and a foot inside looking
36 THE GRINDING SHOP.
down at the faintly seen black water, listening to the
echoes, and then watching the wheel as it turned, one
pale spot on the rim catching my eye especially. As
‘I watched it I saw it go down into the darkness with
a tremendous sweep, with a great deal of splashing and
falling of water; then after being out of sight for a
few moments it came into view again, was whirled
round, and dashed down.
I don’t know how it was, but I felt myself thinking
that suppose anyone fell into the horrible pit below
me, he would swim round by the slimy walls trying
to find a place to cling to, and finding none he would
. be swept round to the wheel, to which in his despair
he would cling. Then he would be dragged out of
the water, swung round, and—
“Do you hear, Cob?†cried Uncle Jack. “ What is
there to attract you, my lad? Come along.â€
I seemed to be roused out of a dream, and starting
back, the door was closed, and I followed the others as
they went to the far end of the great ground-floor to
a door opening upon a stone staircase.
We had to pass the men, who were standing about
close to their grindstones, beside which were little
piles of the articles they were grinding—common
knives, sickles, and scythe blades, ugly weapons if the
men rose against us as they seemed disposed to do.
They muttered and talked to themselves, but they
did not seem inclined to make any farther attack;
while as we reached the stairs I heard the harsh
shrieking of blades that were being held upon the
stones, and I knew that some men must have begun
work.
The upper floor was of the same size as the lower,
but divided into four rooms by partitions, and here
WE COMPLETE THE INSPECTION. 37
too were shafts and wheels turning from their connec-
tion with the great water-wheel. Over that a small
room had been built supported by an arch stretching
from the works to a stone wall, and as we looked out
of the narrow iron-barred window down upon the deep
dam, Uncle Bob said laughingly:
“What a place for you, Cob! You could drop a line
out of the window, and catch fish like fun.â€
I laughed, and we all had a good look round before
examining the side buildings, where there were forges
and furnaces, and a tall chimney-shaft ran up quite a
hundred feet.
“Plenty of room to do any amount of work,†cried
Uncle Jack. “I think the place a bargain.â€
“Ves,†said Uncle Bob, “where we can carry out
our inventions; and if anybody i is disagreeable, we can
shut ourselves up like knights in a castle and laugh at
all attacks.â€
“Ves,†said Uncle Dick thoughtfully; “but I wish
we had not begun by quarrelling with those men.â€
“Let's try a and make friends as we go out,†said
Uncle Jack.
It was a good proposal; and, under the impression
that a gallon or two of beer would heal the sore place,
we went into the big workshop or mill, where all the
men had now resumed their tasks, and were grinding
away as if to make up for lost time.
One man was seated alone on a stone bench, and as
we entered he half turned, and I saw that it was
Uncle Dick’s opponent.
He looked at us for a moment and then turned
scowling away.
My uncles whispered together, and then Uncle Dick
stepped forward and said:
38 A WASTED APOLOGY.
“T’m sorry we had this little upset, my lads. It all
arose out of a mistake. We have taken these works,
and of course wanted to look round them, but we do
not wish to put you to any inconvenience. Will you—’
He stopped short, for as soon as he began to speak
the men seemed to press down their blades that they
were grinding harder and harder, making them send
forth such a deafening churring screech that he paused
quite in despair of making himself heard.
“ My lads!†he said, trying again.
Not a man turned his head, and it was plain enough
that they would not hear.
“Let me speak to him,†said Uncle Bob, catching
his brother by the arm, for Uncle Dick was going to
address the man on the stone.
Uncle Dick nodded, for he felt that it would be
better for someone else to speak; but the man got up,
scowled at Uncle Bob, and when he held out a couple
of half-crowns to him to buy beer to drink our healths
the fellow made a derisive gesture, walked to his stone,
and sat down.
“Just as they like,†said Uncle Dick. “We apologized
and behaved like gentlemen. If they choose to behave
like blackguards, let them. Come along.â€
We turned to the door, my fate, as usual, being to
come last; and as we passed through not a head was
turned, every man pressing down some steel implement
upon his whirling stone, and making it shriek, and, in
spite of the water in which the wheel revolved, send
forth a shower of sparks.
The noise was deafening, but as we passed into the
yard on the way to the lane the grinding suddenly
ceased, and when we had the gate well open the men
had gathered at the door of the works, and gave vent
MY FIRST WOUND. 39
to a savage hooting and yelling which continued after
we had passed through, and as we went along by the
side of the dam we were saluted by a shower of stones
and pieces of iron thrown from the yard.
“Well,†said Uncle Bob, “this is learning something
with a vengeance. I didn’t think we had such savages
in Christian England.â€
By this time we were out of the reach of the men,
and going on towards the top of the dam, when Uncle
Dick, who had been looking very serious and thought-
ful, said:
“Tm sorry, very sorry this has happened. It has
set these men against us.â€
“No,†said Uncle Jack quietly; “the mischief was
done before we came. This place has been to let for a
long time.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Bob, “that’s why we got it so
cheaply.â€
“And,†continued Uncle Jack, “these fellows have
had the run of the works to do their grinding for
almost nothing. They were wild with us for taking
the place and turning them out.â€
“Ves,†said Uncle Dick, “that’s the case, no doubt;
but I’m very sorry I began by hurting that fellow all
the same.â€
“Tm not, Uncle Dick,†I said, as I compressed my
lips with pain. They are great cowards or they would
not have thrown a piece of iron at me;†and I laid my
hand upon my shoulder, to draw it back wet with
blood.
CHAPTER IV.
OUR ENGINE.
ARAVO, Spartan!†cried Uncle Bob, as he
| stood looking on, when, after walking
some distance, Uncle Dick insisted upon
my taking off my jacket in a lane and
having the place bathed.â€
“Oh, it’s nothing,†I said, “only it was tiresome for
it to bleed.â€
“Nothing like being prepared for emergencies,†said
Unele Jack, taking out his pocket-book, and from one
of the pockets a piece of sticking-plaster and a pair of
scissors. “I’m always cutting or pinching my fingers.
Wonder whether we could have stuck Cob’s head on
again if it had been cut off?â€
I opined not as I submitted to the rough surgery
that went on, and then refusing absolutely to be treated
as a sick person, and go back, I tramped on by them,
mile after mile, to see something of the fine open coun-
try out to the west of the town before we settled down
to work.
We were astonished, for as we got away from the
smoky pit in which Arrowfield lay, we found, in follow-
ing the bank of the rivulet that supplied our works,
that the country was lovely and romantic too. Hill,
dale, and ravine were all about us, rippling stream,
THE FIRST GROUSE. 4]
hanging wood, grove and garden, with a thousand
pretty views in every direction, as we climbed on to
the higher ground, till at last cultivation seemed to
have been left behind, and we were where the hills
towered up with ragged stony tops, and their slopes all
purple heather, heath, and moss.
“Look, look!†I eried, as I saw a covey of birds
skim by; “partridges!â€
“No,†said Uncle Bob, watching where they dropped;
“not partridges, my lad—grouse.â€
“ What, here!†I said; “and so near the town.â€
“Near! Why we are seven or eight miles away.â€
“But I thought grouse were Scotch birds.â€
“They are birds of the moors,†said Uncle Bob; “and
here you have them stretching for miles all over the
hills. This is about as wild a bit of country as you
could see. Why, the country people here call those
hills mountains.â€
“But are they mountains?†I said; “they don’t look
very high.â€
“Higher than you think, my lad, with precipice and
ravine. Why, look—you can see the top of that one
is among the clouds.â€
“J should have thought it was a mist resting upon
1b.â€
“Well, what is the difference?†said Uncle Bob,
smiling.
Just then we reached a spot where a stream crossed
the road, and the sight of the rippling water, clear as
erystal, took our. attention from the hills and vales
that spread around. My first idea was to run down to
the edge of the stream, which was so dotted with great
stones that I was soon quite in the middle, looking
after the shadowy shapes that I had seen dart away.
42 OUT ON THE MOORS.
My uncles followed me, and we forgot all about the
work and troubles with the rough grinders, as we
searched for the trout and crept up to where we could
see some good-sized, broad-tailed fellow sunning him-
self till he caught sight of the intruders, and darted
away like a flash of light.
But Unele Dick put a stop to our idling there, lead-
ing us back to the road and insisting upon our con-
tinuing along it for another mile.
“I want to show you our engine,†he said.
“Our engine out here!†I cried. “It’s some trick.â€
“You wait and see,†he replied.
_We went on through the beautiful breezy country
for some distance farther, till on one side we were
looking down into a valley and on the other side into
a lake, and I soon found that the lake had been formed
Just as we schoolboys used to make a dam across a ditch
or stream when we were going to bale it out and get
the fish.
“Why,†I cried, as we walked out on to the great
embankment, “this has all been made.â€
“To be sure,†said Uncle Dick. “Just the same as
our little dam is at the works. That was formed by
building a strong stone wall across a hollow streamlet;
this was made by raising this great embankment right
across the valley here and stopping the stream that ran
through it. That's the way some of the lakes have
been made in Switzerland.â€
“What, by men?â€
“No, by nature. A great landslip takes place from
the mountains, rushes down, and fills up a valley, and
the water is stopped from running away.â€
We walked right out along what seemed like a vast
railway embankment, on one side sloping right away
THE GREAT DAM, 43
down into the valley, where the remains of the stream
that had been cut off trickled on towards Arrewfield.
On the other side the slope went down into the lake of
water, which stretched away toward the moorlands for
quite a mile.
“This needs to be tremendously strong,†said Uncle
Jack thoughtfully, as we walked on till we were right
in the middle and first stood looking down the valley,
winding in and out, with its scattered houses, farms,
and mills, and then turned to look upward towards the
moorland and along the dammed-up lake.
“Why, this embankment must be a quarter of a mile
long,†said Uncle Jack thoughtfully.
“What a pond for fishing!†I cried, as I imagined it
to be peopled by large jack and shoals of smaller fish.
“How deep is it, I wonder?â€
Did you ever know a boy yet who did not want to
know how deep a piece of water was, when he saw it?
“Deep!†said Uncle Dick; “that’s easily seen. Deep
as it is from here to the bottom of the valley on the
other side: eighty or ninety feet. I should say this
embankment is over a hundred in perpendicular height.â€
“Look here,†said Uncle Jack suddenly; “if I know
anything about engineering, this great dam is not
safe.â€
“Not safe!†I said nervously. “Let’s get off it at
once.â€
“T daresay it will hold to-day,†said Uncle Dick
dryly, but you can run off if you like, Cob.â€
“Are you coming?â€
“Not just at present,†he said, smiling grimly.
I put my hands in my pockets and stood looking at
the creat embankment, which formed a level road or
path of about twelve feet wide where we stood, and
44 UNCLE DICK’S ENGINE.
then sloped down, as I have said, like a railway em-
bankment far down into the valley on our left, and to
the water on our right.
“T don’t care,†said Uncle Jack, knitting his brows
as he scanned the place well, “I say it is not safe. Here
is about a quarter of a mile of earthen wall that has
no natural strength for holding together like a wall of
bonded stone or brick.â€
“But look at its weight,†said Uncle Bob.
“Yes, that is its only strength—its weight; but look
at the weight of the water, about a mile of water
seventy or eighty feet deep just here. Perhaps only
sixty. The pressure of this water against it must be
tremendous.â€
“Of course,†said Uncle Dick thoughtfully; “but you
forget the shape of the wall, Jack. It is like an elon-
gated pyramid: broad at the base and coming up nearly
to a point.â€
“No,†said Unele Jack, “I’ve not forgotten all that.
Of course it is all the stronger for it, the wider the
base is made. But I’m not satisfied, and if I had made
this dam I should have made this wall twice as thick
or three times as thick; and I don’t know that I should
have felt satisfied with its stability then.â€
“Well done, -old conscientious!†cried Uncle Bob,
laughing. “Let’s get on.â€
“Stop a moment,†I cried. “Uncle Dick said he would
show us our engine.â€
“Well, there it is,†said Uncle Dick, pointing to the
dammed-up lake. “Isn’t it powerful enough for you.
This reservoir was made by a water company to supply
all our little dams, and keep all our mills going. It
gathers the water off the moorlands, saves it up, and
lets us have it ina regular supply. What would be
“PM ONLY A COWARD.†45
the consequences of a burst, Jack?†he said, turning to
his brother.
“Don’t talk about it man,†said Unele Jack frowning.
“Why, this body of water broken loose would sweep
down that valley and scour everything away with 1t—
houses, mills, rocks, all would go like corks.â€
“Why, it would carry away our works, then,†I eried.
«The place is right down by the water side.â€
“T hope not,†said Uncle Jack. “Nol should say the
force would be exhausted before it got so far as, that,
eight or nine miles away.â€
“Well, it does look dangerous,’ said Uncle Bob.
“The weight must be tremendous. How would it go
if it did burst?â€
“T say, uncle, ’m only a coward, please. Hadn’t we
better go off here?â€
They all laughed, and we went on across the dam.
“How would it go!†said Uncle Jack thoughtfully.
“It is impossible to say. Probably the water would eat
a little hole through the top somewhere and that would
rapidly grow bigger, the water pouring through in a
stream, and cutting its way down till the solidity of
the wall being destroyed by the continuity being
broken great masses would crumble away all at once,
and the pent-up waters would rush through.â€
“And if they came down and washed away our
works just as we were making our fortunes, you would
say I was to blame for taking such a dangerous place.â€
“There, come along,†cried Uncle Bob, “don’t let’s
meet troubles half-way. I want a ramble over those
hills. There, Cob, now we're safe,†he said, as we left
the great dam behind. Now, then, who’s for some
lunch, ch?â€
This last question was suggested by the sight of a
46 IN’ MOUNTAIN LAND.
snug little village inn, where we had a hearty meal
and a rest, and then tramped off to meet with an un-
expected adventure among the hills.
As soon as one gets into a hilly country the feeling
that comes over one is that he ought to get up higher,
and I had that sensation strongly.
But what a glorious walk it was! We left the road
as soon as we could and struck right away as the crow
flies for one of several tremendous hills that we saw in
the distance.. Under our feet was the purple heath
with great patches of whortleberry, that tiny shrub
that bears the little purply gray fruit. Then there was
short elastic wiry grass and orange-yellow bird’s-foot
trefoil, Anon we came to great patches of furze of a
dwarf kind with small prickles, and of an elegant
growth, the purple and yellow making the place look
like some vast wild garden.
“We always seem to be climbing up,†said Uncle
Dick.
“When we are not sliding down,†said Uncle Jack,
laughing.
“Pve been looking for a bit of level ground for a
race,†said Uncle Bob. “My word! what a wild place
it is!â€
“But how beautiful!†I cried, as we sat down on
some rough blocks of stone, with the pure thyme-
scented air blowing on our cheeks, larks singing above
our heads, and all around the hum of insects or bees
hurrying from blossom to blossom; while we saw the
grasshoppers slowly climbing up to the top of some
strand of grass, take a look round, and then set their
spring legs in motion and take a good leap.
“What a difference in the hills!†said Uncle Jack,
looking thoughtfully from some that were smooth of
A WILD WALK. 47
outline to others that were all rugged and looked as if
great jagged masses of stone had ‘been piled upon their
tops.
a Yes,†said Uncle Dick. “Twoformations. Moun-
tain limestone yonder; this we are on, with all these
' rough pieces on the surface and sticking out every-
where, is millstone grit.â€
« Which is millstone grit?†I cried.
“This,†he said, taking out a little hammer and
chipping one of the stones by us to show me that it
was a sandstone full of hard fragments of silica.
“You might open a quarry anywhere here and cut
millstones, but of course some of the stone is better for
the purpose than others.â€
“Yes,†said Unele Jack thoughtfully. “ Arrowfield
is famously situated for its purpose—plenty of coal for
forging, plenty of water to work mills, plenty of quar-
ries to get millstones for grinding.â€
a Cone along,†cried Uncle Bob, starting up; and
before we had gone far the grouse flew, skimming
away before us, and soon after we came to a lovely
mountain stream that sparkled and danced as it
dashed down in hundreds of little cataracts and falls.
Leaving this, though the sight of the little trout
darting about was temptation enough to make me
stay, we tramped on over the rugged ground, in and
out among stones or piled-up rocks, now skirting or
leaping boggy places dotted with cotton-rush, where
the bog-roots were here green and soft, there of a deli-
cate pinky white, where the water had been dried
away.
To a London boy, accustomed to country runs among
inclosed fields and hedges, or at times into a park or
upon a common, this vast stretch of hilly, wild unculti-
48 A FOX.
vated land was glorious, and I was ready to see any
wonder without surprise.
It seemed to me, as we tramped on examining the
bits of stone, the herbs and flowers, that at any moment
we might come upon the lair of some wild beast; and
so we did over and over again, but it was not the den
of wolf or bear, but of a rabbit burrowed into the sandy
side of some great bank. Farther on we started a hare,
which went off in its curious hopping fashion to be out
of sight in a few moments.
Almost directly after, as we were clambering over a
steep slope, Uncle Bob stopped short, and stood there
sniffing.
“What is 1t?†I cried.
“Fox,†he said, looking round.
“Nonsense!†cried Uncle Dick.
“You wouldn't find, eh? What a nasty, dank, sour
odour!†cried Uncle Jack, in his quiet, thoughtful
way.
“A fox has gone by here during the last few
minutes, ’m sure,’ cried Uncle Bob, looking round
searchinely. “Tl be bound to say he is up among
those tufts of ling and has just taken refuge there.
Spread out and hunt.â€
The tufts he pointed to were right on a ridge of the
hill we were climbing, and separating we hurried up
there just in time to see a little reddish animal, with
long, drooping, bushy tail, run in amonest the heath
fifty yards down the slope away to our left.
“That's the consequence of having a good nose,†said
Uncle Bob triumphantly; and now, as we were on a
high eminence, we took’a good look round so as to
make our plans.
“Hadn't we better turn back now?†said Uncle
THE DOME TOR 49
Jack. “We shall have several hours’ walk before we
get to Arrowfield, and shall have done as much as Cob
can manage.â€
“Oh, I’m not a bit tired!†I eried.
“Well,†said Uncle Dick, “I think we had better go
forward. I’m not very learned over the topography of
the district, but if I’m not much mistaken that round
hill or mountain before us is Dome Tor.â€
“Well?†said Uncle Jack.
“Well, I propose that we make straight for it, go
over it, and then ask our way to the nearest town or
village where there is a railway-station, and ride
back.â€
“ Capital!†I cried.
“Whom will you ask to direct us?†said Uncle Jack
dryly.
“Ah! to be sure,’ said Uncle Bob. “I’ve seen
nothing but a sheep or two for hours, and they look
so horribly stupid I don’t think it is of any use to ask
them.â€
“Oh! we must meet some one if we keep on,†said
Uncle Dick. “What do you say? Seems a pity not
to climb that hill now we are so neav.â€
“Yes, as we are out for a holiday,†said Uncle Bob.
“ After to-day we must put our necks in the collar and
work. I vote for Dick.â€
“So do I,†said Uncle Jack.
“Come along then, boys,†cried Uncle Dick; and
now we set ourselves steadily to get over the ground,
taking as straight a line as we could, but having to
deviate a good deal on account of streams and bogs
and rough patches of stone. But it was a glorious
walk, during which there was always something to
examine; and at last we felt that we were steadily
(322) D
50 AN ASCENT.
going up the great rounded mass known as Dome
Tor.
We had not been plodding far before I found that it
was entirely different to the hills we had climbed that
day, for, in place of great masses of rugged, weather-
worn rock, the stone we found here and there was
slaty and splintery, the narrow tracks up which we
walked being full of slippery fragments, making it tire-
some travelling.
These tracks were evidently made by the sheep, of
which we saw a few here and there, but no shepherd,
no houses, nothing to break the utter solitude of the
scene, and as we paused for a rest about half-way up
Uncle Dick looked round at the glorious prospect,
bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.
“Ah!†he said, “this is beautiful nature. Over
yonder, at Arrowfield, we shall have nature to deal
with that is not beautiful. But come, boys, I want a
big meat tea, and we've miles to go yet before we can
eet it.â€
We all jumped up and tramped on, with a curious
sensation coming into my legs, as if the joints wanted
oiling. But I said nothing, only trudged away, on and
on, till at last we reached the rounded top, hot, out of
breath, and glad to inhale the fresh breeze that was
blowing.
The view was splendid, but the sun had. set, and
there were clouds beginning to gather, while, on looking
round, though we could see a house here and a house
there in the distance, it did not seem very clear to
either of us which way we were to go.
“ We are clever ones,†said Uncle Dick, “starting out
on a trip like this without a pocket guide and a
map: never mind, our way must be west, and sooner
A SUDDEN MIST. 51
or later we shall come to a road, and then to a
village.â€
“But we shall never be able to reach a railway-sta-
tion to-night,†said Uncle Bob.
“Not unless we try,’ said Uncle Jack in his dry
way.
“Then let’s try,†said Uncle Dick, “and—well, that
is strange.â€
As we reached the top the wind had been blowing
sharply in our faces, but this had ceased while we had
been lying about admiring the prospect, and in place
a few soft moist puffs had come from quite another
quarter; and as we looked there seemed to be a cloud
of white smoke starting up out of a valley below us.
As we watched it we suddenly became aware of
another rolling along the short rough turf and over
the shaly paths. Then a patch seemed to form here,
another there, and these patches appeared to be stretch-
ing out their hands to each other all round the moun-
tain till they formed a gray bank of mist, over the top
of which we could see the distant country.
“We must be moving,†said Uncle Dick, “or we shall
be lost in the fog. North-west must be our way, but
let’s push down here where the slope’s easy, and get
beyond the mist, and then we can see what we had
better do.â€
He led the way, and before we could realize it the
dense white steamy fog was all around us, and we
could hardly see each other.
“All right!†said Unele Dick; “keep together.â€
“Can you see where you are going, Dick?†said
Uncle Jack.
“No, I’m as if I was blindfolded with a white crape
handkerchief.â€
52 A SHOCK.
“No precipices here, are there?†I cried nervously,
for it seemed so strange to be walking through this
dense mist.
“No, I hope not,†eried Uncle Dick out of the mist
ahead. “You keep talking, and follow me, I'll answer
you, or else we shall be separated, and that won't do
now. All right!â€
“All vight!†we chorused back.
“All right!†cried Uncle Dick; ‘nice easy slope here,
but slippery.â€
“All right!†we chorused.
“All ri—Take—’
“We stopped short in horror wondering what had
happened, for Uncle Dick’s words seemed cut in two,
there was a rustling scrambling sound, and then all
was white fog and silence, broken only by our panting
breath.
“Dick! where are you?†cried Uncle Jack taking a
step forward.
“Mind!†cried Uncle Bob, catching him by the arm.
It was well he did, for that was the rustling scram-
bling noise again falling on my ears, with a panting
struggle, and two voices in the dense fog seeming to
utter ejaculations of horror and dread.
CHAPTER V.
A NIGHT OF ANXIETY.
LOOKED in the direction from which the
sounds came, but there was nothing visible,
save the thick white fog, and in my excite-
ment and horror, thinking I was looking in
the wrong direction, I turned sharply round.
White foo.
I looked in another direction.
White fog.
Then I seemed to lose my head altogether, and hur-
ried 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 mufiled and as if a long way off.
“Cob! where are you, Cob?â€
“Here,†I shouted. “I'll try and come.â€
“No, no!â€â€”it was Unele Jack who spoke—‘don’t
stir for your life.â€
“But,†I shouted, with my voice sounding as if I was
covered with a blanket, “I want to come to you.â€
“Stop where you are,†he cried. “I command you.â€
I stayed where I was, and the next moment a fresh
voice cried to me, as if pitying my condition:
“Cob, lad.â€
54 THE HORRIBLE PRECIPICE.
“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 pos-
sible.
“Unele Jack!†I cried, as a sudden recollection came
back of a ery I had heard.
“He is not here,†cried Uncle Bob. “He is trying to
find a way down.â€
“Where is Uncle Dick?â€
“Hush, boy! don’t ask.â€
“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 realized 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 ona very steep slope too.â€
“But where has Uncle Jack gone then?â€
“Ahoy!†came from somewhere behind me, and
apparently below.
“Ahoy! Uncle Jack,†I yelled.
THE PERIL INCREASES. 55
“Ahoy, boy! I want to come to you. Keep shouting
here—heve—here.â€
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?â€
“No!†I said with a shiver.
“Ahoy, Jack!†roared Uncle Bob.
“Ahoy—y!†came from a distance in a curiously
stifled way.
“Give it up till the fog clears off. Stand still.â€
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.
T 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
56 STANDING FAST.
moment, and then it was jerked out of my hands, as,
with a frightened Baa! 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?â€
“ Yes—beyond me.â€
“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.â€
“Let me come to you,†I cried.
“No, no! Pl try and get to you. Where are you?â€
“ Here,†I eried.
“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 ery 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.â€
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.
“Tl stop where I am, Cob,†came now as if from
above me; “and I daresay in a short time the wind
will rise.â€
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 realize the extent of our danger. In
I GROW BOLDER. 57
fact it seemed absurd for three strong men and a lad
like me to be upset in this way by a mist.
Unele 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 re-
strain 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 ata time very carefully, feeling round
with my hands before I ventured to move, and satis-
fying 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 ona 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 com-
panions 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 Unele Jack.
58 A NARROW ESCAPE.
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 per-
pendicularly, and on passing my hand over, it touched
first soft turf and earth and then scrappy loose frag-
ments 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, fora 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 ettort I should have fallen.
“What was that?†cried a voice some distance above
me.
“Tt 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,
COLD AND DAMP. 59
“ Here.â€
“Can you crawl to me? I’m close by your head.â€
“No,†I gasped. “If I move Pm afraid I shall fall.â€
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!â€
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, cling-
ing to Uncle Bob’s hand, which was very wet and
cold.
“How did you come there?†he said at length.
“Orawled there, trying to get to you,†I said.
“And nearly went down that fearful precipice, you
foolish fellow. But there: you are safe.â€
“J 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?â€
“Not after what I have just escaped from,†I said
dolefully.
“Are you cold ?â€
“Ye-es,†I said with a shiver. “It is so damp.â€
“Oreep close to me, then,†he said. “We shall keep
each other warm.â€
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
-60 THE BREEZE AT LAST.
over again. The stillness was awful, but I had a com-
panion, 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;â€
and we waited.
The change came, after those long terrible hours of
anxiety, like magic. One moment it was thick dark-
ness; the next I felt, as it were, a feather brush across
my cheek.
“Did you feel that?†I said quickly.
“Feel what, Cob2â€
“Something breathing against us?â€
“ No—yes!†he cried joyfully. “It was the wind.â€
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 spark-
ling with stars and the moon shining bright and clear.
“You see now the danger from which you escaped?â€
said Uncle Bob with a shudder.
“Ves,†I said; “but did—do you think 4
He looked at me without answering, and just then
there came from behind us a loud “Ahoy!â€
“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:
A HUNT FOR THE LOST. 61
“We had better get on and descend on the other
side.â€
“But Unele Dick!†I cried impetuously; “are you
not going to search for Uncle Dick?â€
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 com-
munings, 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 gray 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 “ereat 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
eray-looking face, that at “first looked high, but, as we
went on, towered up more and more till the height
seemed terrific.
62 THE WEARY SEARCH,
Tt was a weary heart-rending walk before we reached
the hill-like slope where the loose shaly rock and earth
was ever falling to add to the débris up 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.â€
For we neither of us would own to the possibility of
Unele 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 dif_i-
cult, as we clambered on over the shale, which in the
steepest parts gave way under our feet. But I deter-
minedly 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 of débris began; 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.â€
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—
NO ECHO. 63
“ Dick, ahoy!â€
There was a pause and he shouted again:
“Dick, ahoy!â€
“Ahoy!†came back faintly from somewhere a lone
way off.
“There he is!†I eried.
“ No—an echo,†said Uncle Jack. “Ahoy!â€
“Ahoy!†came back.
“There, you see—an echo.â€
“Ahoy!†came again.
“ That’s no echo,†cried Uncle Bob joyfully. “ Dick!â€
He shouted as loudly as he could.
“Ahoy!â€
“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?â€
“Ahoy!†come back, and we had to consult.
“Tf 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.â€
Unele Jack snapped his watch-case down after ex-
amining the face by the pale light of the moon.
“Two o’clock,†he said, throwing himself on the loose
shale. “Ten minutes aco, 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.â€
I had slipped and scrambled down to him now, and
Uncle Bob turned to me.
“ How are you, Cob?†he said.
64 NOT BROKEN.
“The skin is off one of my heels, and I have a blister
on my big toe.â€
« 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.â€
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 com-
fortable 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 look-
ing 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.â€
“But I dreamed something about you, Uncle Dick,â€
I said confusedly. “I thought you were lost.â€
“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.â€
“But you are not—not broken,†I cried, now thor-
oughly awake and holding his hand.
“No, Cob,†he said smiling; “not broken, but starv-
ing and very faint.â€
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
MRS. STEPHENSON’S IMPRESSION. 65
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.
(322) E
CHAPTER VI
“DO LET ME COME.â€
AE 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 posses-
sion.
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.â€
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.â€
“Call them what you like,†said Uncle Dick; “wild
beasts if you will, but get them out.â€
“But 1 can’t,†groaned the man dismally. “See
what a state I’m in! They’ve spoiled my second best
suit.â€
“Very tiresome,†said Uncle Dick, who was growing
PREPARING FOR THE EXPEDITION. 67
impatient; “but are you going to get these people out?
We've two truck-loads of machinery waiting to be
delivered.â€
“Don’t I tell you I can't,†said the agent angrily.
“Take possession yourself. There, I give you leave.â€
“Very well,†said Uncle Dick. “You assure me that
these men have no legal right to be there.â€
“Not the slightest. They were only allowed to be
there till the place was let.â€
“That's right; then we take possession at once, sir.â€
“ And good luck to you!†said the agent as we went
out.
“What are you going to do?†asked Uncle Bob.
“Take possession.â€
“When?â€
“To-night. Will you come?â€
“Will I come?†said Uncle Bob with a half laugh.
_ “You might as well ask Jack.â€
“Tt may mean trouble to-morrow.â€
“There’s nothing done without trouble,†said Uncle
Bob coolly. “TI like ease better, but [ll take my share.â€
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.â€
“Why doesn’t he come in?â€
“ He’s busy.â€
I wondered what Uncle Bob was busy about; but I
noticed that my uncles were preparing for the ex-
pedition, putting some tools and a small lantern in a
68 PITER.
travelling-bag. After this Uncle Jack took it open
down-stairs ready for starting.
“Look here, Cob,†said Uncle Dick; “we are going
down to the works.â€
«What! To-night?â€
“Yes, my lad, to-night.â€
“But you can’t get in. The men have the key.â€
“T 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.â€
“Why, you are going to stop all night,†I cried, “so
as to be there before the men?â€
“T 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.â€
“Oh, yes, there will, uncle,’ I said. “I say, do let
me come.†:
He shook his head, and as I could make no impres-
sion 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.
“T say, uncle,†I whispered, “I know what you are
going todo. Take me.â€
“No, no,†he said. “It will be no work for boys.â€
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.â€
I went out rather slowly, for the dog was growling
A GARRISON FOR THE FORT, 69
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.â€
I stooped down rather unwillingly, and began pat-
ting 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?â€
“Beauty!†I said, laughing. “But where did you get
him?â€
“Mr. Tomplin has lent him to us.â€
“But what for?â€
“Garrison for the fort,’ my boy. “I think we can
trust him.â€
I commenced my attack then.
“T 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.â€
“Well, there, I'll talk them over,†he said. “Here, you
stop and hold the dog, while I go in.â€
“What, hold him?â€
“Yes, to be sure. I won’t be long.â€
“But, uncle,†I said, “he looks such a brute, as if he’d
eat a fellow.â€
“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.â€
70 WE FRATERNIZE,
“Now you're laughing at me,†I said.
“Hold the dog, then, you young coward |â€
“Tm 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 fraternized,
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
A TOWN DOG. 71
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.â€
“May I go?†I said eagerly.
“Yes. They’ve given in. I had a hard fight, sir, so
you must do me credit.â€
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 cut-
ting 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
72 PROCEEDINGS IN BURGLARY.
the gloom, while the great chimney stood up like a
giant sentry watching over it, and placed there by the
inen 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.â€
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 un-
screwed 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.â€
TAKING POSSESSION BY NIGHT. 73
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
tow 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.â€
“T say, Uncle Bob,†I whispered—I don't know why,
unless it was the darkness that made me speak low
—“T should like to see those fellows’ faces when they
come to the gate to-morrow morning.â€
“Especially Old Squintum’s,†said Uncle Bob laugh-
ing. “Pleasant countenance that man has, Cob. If
ever he is modelled I should like to have a copy.
Now, boys, what next?â€
“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.â€
“The small grindstones are theirs, are they not?â€
said Unele Bob.
74 BY BULL’S-EYE LIGHT.
“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.â€
Uncle Dick went forward from grindstone to grind-
stone, 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 ex-
planation.
“ 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.â€
«“ Besides,†said Uncle Bob, “this is to be his home.â€
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
“SOMEONE THERE!†75
should have given him credit for more sense than a
moth.â€
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, ap-
parently 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 eudgel 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 frag-
ments of pale gold in the light cast by the bull’s-eye,
while two blackened and roughened hands were ap-
plied to his eyes as if he were trying to rub them
bright.
76 IN CHARGE.
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 black-
ened 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, re-
quired 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!â€
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 dull Fop! 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!â€
Then he settled himself as if about to do what he
had bidden the dog, but a gleam of intelligence ap-
peared to have come now into his brain.
There was no mistaking the man: it was the squint-
ing 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
“ POLICE!†i
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 â€
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
anorily.
“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!â€
This was said in a low drowsy tone and as if the
tellow 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 blink-
ing 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?â€
78 ARMED WITH A PISTOL.
“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!â€
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.â€
“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.â€
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.â€
“Yes, pistol, do yer hear?†roared the fellow starting
up. “Pistol! and Pll 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.â€
“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
A DANGEROUS AFFAIR. 79
gee you godown. This here’s my place and my mates’,
and we don’t want none else here. Now then.â€
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!â€
He turned sharply round in my direction as I strug-
gled 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 pre-
ceeding 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.
“Seratched, that’s all,†was the reply. Here, come
and tie this wild beast’s hands. I think I can hold
him now.â€
80 LIKE FIGHTING A BULL.
It almost sounded like a rash assertion, as the light
played upon the desperate struggle that was going on.
IT could see Uncle Jack and the man, now down, now
up, and at last, after wrestling here and there, the man,
in spite of Unele 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?â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Dick, rattling the things in the
bag. “Can you turn him over?â€
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!â€
This was in answer to a furious kick the fellow
tried to deliver as soon as he had regained his feet.
“Tf 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.â€
“You'll hev it for this,†cried the man furiously.
“Richt,†said Uncle Jack. “Now, then, have you
anything here belonging to you? No! Down you
come then.â€
He collared his prisoner, who turned to kick at him;
TURNED OUT. 81
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.â€
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 ee “Now, then, ready! Back,
dog, back!â€
Piter shrank away, oul 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.
(322) F
CHAPTER VIL
A USEFUL ALLY.
4 AISE no notice,†said Uncle Dick.
4 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 meemed to realize what had oan 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
IN THE DAM. 83
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.â€
I gladly seized the lantern and made the light play
on the surface of the water where it was disturved,
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 growl-
ing and using ugly language that seemed to agree with
his mouth.
Then he turned upon us.
“Aw right!†he said, “Ill 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.â€
“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.â€
84 A TAP ON THE KNUCKLES.
“Take care,’ whispered Uncle Dick. “Be ready to
bang the gate. We must have him out. Here, Piter.â€
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 shout-
ing.
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 driv-
ing 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.â€
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 dis-
appeared.
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.
THE ATTACK CONTINUED. 85
“Nice place this,†said Uncle Bob suddenly. “Didn't
take return tickets, did you?â€
“Return tickets! no,’ said Uncle Jack in a low
angry voice. “What! are you tired of it already?â€
“Tired! Well, I don’t know, but certainly this is
more lively than Canonbury. There’s something cheer-
ful about the place. Put up your umbrellas, it hails.â€
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 coun-
try 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 a coup de main.
But this failed, for the hands that were to deal the
cowp received such ugly taps from sticks as they ap-
peared 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 cour-
age 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.
Unele Dick only tapped them, but possibly not hard
enough, for the arms followed the hands, then ap-
peared 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 tap-
86 AN ASSAULT.
ping 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 appa-
rently 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.
“Tt makes me feel anery,†said Uncle Jack, “and as
if the more these scoundrels are obstinate and interfere
with me, the more determined I shall grow.â€
“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?â€
I listened, and said that I did not hear anything.
“T did,†said Uncle Jack. “It was the tap made by
a ladder that has been reared against a house.â€
I made the light play against the top of the wall
and along it from end to end.
Then Unele 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
TE
ZEEE
SS
a
Ze
a
EGS.â€
L
MADE A DASIL AT THEIR
“PITER
PITER CHARGES. 87
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 pre-
paring for the ficht. 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
van 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 Unele Jack; and as I
made it play upon the water there was one man swim-
ming 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.
88 SAVING AN ENEMY.
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 nae or three patehce 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
Unele 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 motion-
less.
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?â€
REPETITIONS. 89
“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?â€
“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:
“Gre it to un, Chawny—gi’e it to un.â€
“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.â€
“ 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.â€
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 de-
monstration on the part of the enemy.
“We're sate for this time, boys,’ said Uncle Dick.
2
90 AT REST.
“Now go and have a few hours’ rest. I'll call you
when the men come.â€
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.
CHAPTER VIII
ON GUARD.
seemed as if it had all been a dream when
I awoke and found Uncle Bob was shaking
me.
“Come, young fellow,†he cried; “break-
fast’s ready.â€
I did not feel ready for my breakfast if it was,
especially a breakfast of bread and meat with no chair,
no table, no cloth, no tea, coffee, or bread and butter.
Such a good example was shown me, though, that I
took the thick sandwich offered to me, and I was soon
forgetting my drowsiness and eating heartily.
We were not interrupted, and when we had ended
our meal, went round the place to see what was to be
done.
The first thing was placing the property that could
be claimed by the men close by the gate ready for them,
and when this was done Piter and I walked up and
down the yard listening to the steps outside, and wait-
ing to give a signal if any of the men should come.
No men came, however, and there was not a single
call till afternoon, when a sharp rapping at the gate
was answered by two of my uncles, and the dog, who
seemed puzzled as to the best pair of legs to peer
between, deciding at last in favour of Uncle Bob’s.
92 AN OMINOUS SILENCE.
To our surprise, when the gate was opened, there
were no men waiting, but half a dozen women, one of
whom announced that they had came for their masters’
“traps,†and the said “traps†being handed to them,
they went off without a word, not even condescending
to say “Thank you.â€
“Come,†said Uncle Bob, after the various things had
been carried off, and Piter had stood looking on twitch-
ing his ears and blinking at them, as if he did not war
with women, “Come, we’ve won the game.â€
“Don’t be too sure, my boy,†said Uncle Dick.
“But they have given up.â€
“Given up expecting to use the works. But what
are they going to do in revenge?â€
“ Revenge!â€
“Yes. You may depend upon it we are marked men,
and that we shall have to fight hard to hold our own.â€
As the day went on—a day busily spent in making
plans for the future of our factory, we had one or two
applications from men who were seeking work, and if
we had any doubt before of how our coming was to be
received, we realized it in the yells and hootings that
greeted the men who came in a friendly spirit.
Uncle Dick went off directly after breakfast to see
about the machinery waiting at the railway being
delivered, and it was late in the afternoon before he
returned.
“One of us will have to stay always on the premises
for the present,’ he said, “so I have ordered some
furniture and a carpenter to come and board up and
make that corner office comfortable. We must make
shift.â€
The matter was discussed, and finally it was settled
that two of our party were to be always on the pre-
MAKING A BEGINNING. 93
mises, and until we were satisfied that there was no
more fear of interference, one was to keep watch half the
night with the dog, and then be relieved by the other.
“We shall have to make a man of you, Cob,’ said
Unele Jack. “You must take your turn with us.â€
“I'm ready,†I replied; and very proud I felt of being
trusted.
Of course I felt nervous, but at the same time rather
disappointed, for everything went on in the most busi-
ness like way. Carpenters and fitters were set to work,
and, helped by the indomitable perseverance and energy
of my uncles, a great deal of fresh machinery was soon
in position. New shafts and bands, a new furnace for
preparing our own steel after a fashion invented by
Uncle Dick. New grindstones and polishing wheels,
new forges with tilt hammers, and anvils.
By degrees I found what was going to be our chief
business, and that was the production of cutlery of a
peculiar temper especially for surgical instruments and
swords, Uncle Dick having an idea that he could
produce blades equal to Damascus or the finest Spanish
steel.
The days glided by with the works growing more
complete, and each night half our party on guard at
Fort Industry, as Uncle Bob christened the place. And
though the couple who had slept at the lodgines went
down to the place every morning feeling nervous, and
wondering whether anything had happened in the
night, ib was always to find that all was going on per-
fectly smoothly, and that there was nothing to mind.
Piter had a kennel just inside the entry, and as each
new hand was engaged he was introduced to the dog,
who inspected him, and never afterwards so much as
growled.
94 AFTER A MONTH.
Uncle Dick took the lead, and under his orders the
change rapidly took place.
There was one hindrance, though, and that occurred
in connection with the furnaces, for the chimney-shaft
needed some repair at the top. This, however, proved
to be an easy task, scaffolding not being necessary,
projecting bars answering the purpose of the rounds
of a ladder having been built in when the shaft was
erected, with this end in view.
At last everything was, as Uncle Dick called it, com-
plete for the present. There was a good supply of water,
and one morning the furnace was lit, so were the forges,
and step by step we progressed till there was quite a
busy scene, the floors and rafters in the forge and fur-
nace building glowing and seeming turned to gold;
while from out of the chimney there rose every
morning a great volume of smoke that rolled out
and bent over, and formed itself into vast feathery
plumes.
I could hardly believe it true when it was announced
that we had been down in Arrowfield a month: but so
it was.
But little had beendone beyond getting themachinery
at the works ready for work to come; now, however,
some of the projects were to be put in action.
“For,†said Uncle Dick, “if we should go on forging
and grinding as other manufacturers do, we only enter
into competition with them, and I dare say we should
be beaten. We must do something different and better,
and that’s why we have come. ‘To-morrow I begin to
make my new tempered steel.â€
Uncle Dick kept his word, and the next morning
men were at work arranging fire-bricks for a little
furnace which was duly made, and then so much
WEARY OF WATCHING. 95
blistered steel was laid in a peculiar way with so much
iron, and a certain heat was got up and increased and
lowered several times till Uncle Dick was satisfied.
He told me that the colour assumed by the metal was
the test by which he judged whether it was progressing
satisfactorily, and this knowledge could only come by
experience.
Everything was progressing most favourably. The
men who had been engaged worked well; we had seen
no more of those who had had to vacate the works,
and all was as it should be. In fact our affairs were
so prosperous that to me it seemed great folly for watch
to be kept in the works night after night.
I thought it the greatest nonsense possible one night
when I had been very busy all day, and it had come
to my turn, and I told Uncle Jack so.
“Those fellows were a bit cross at having to turn
out,†I said. “Of course they were, and they made a
fuss. You don’t suppose they will come again?â€
“J don’t know, Cob,†said Uncle Jack quietly.
“ But is it likely?†I said pettishly.
“T can’t say, my boy—who can? Strange things
have been done down in Arrowfield by foolish work-
men before now.â€
“Oh, yes!†I said; “but that’s in the past. It isn’t
likely that they will come and annoy us. Besides,
there’s Piter. He’d soon startle any one away.â€
“You think then that there is no occasion for us to
watch, Cob?â€
“Yes,†I cried eagerly, “that’s just what I think.
We can go to bed and leave Piter to keep guard. He
would soon give the alarm.â€
«Then you had better go to bed, Cob,†said Uncle
Jack quietly.
96 I RETRACT.
“And of course you won't get up when it comes to
your turn.â€
“No,†he said; “certainly not.â€
“That’s right,†I cried triumphantly. “TI am glad
we have got over this scare.â€
“ Are you?†he said dryly.
“Am I, Uncle Jack! Why, of course lam. All is
locked up. YI go and unchain Piter, and then we'll
go and get a good night’s rest.â€
“Yes,†he said; “you may as well unchain Piter.â€
Ivan and set the doe at liberty, and he started off
to make the circuit of the place, while I went back to
Uncle Jack, who was lighting the bull’s-eye lantern
that we always used when on euard.
“Why, uncle,†I said wonderingly; “ we sha’n’t want
that to-night.â€
“JT shall,†he said. “Good night!â€
“No, no,’ Teried. “We arranged to go to bed.â€
“You arranged to go to bed, Cob, but I did not.
You don’t suppose I could behave so unfairly to my
brothers as to neglect the task they placed in my
hands.â€
He did not say any more. It was quite sufficient.
I felt the rebuff, and was thoroughly awake now and
ashamed of what I had proposed.
Without a word I took the lantern and held out my
hand.
“Good night, Uncle Jack!†I said.
He had seemed cold and stern just before. Now he
was his quiet old self again, and he took my hand,
nodded, and said:
“Two o'clock, Cob. Good night!â€
Isaw him go along the great workshop, enter the office
and close the door, and then I started on my rounds.
PLAYING POLICEMAN. 97
It was anything but a cheerful task, that keeping
watch over the works during the night, and I liked the
first watch from ten to two less than the second watch
from two to six, for in the latter you had the day break-
ing about four o’clock, and then it was light until
six,
For, however much one might tell oneself that there
was no danger—no likelihood of anything happening,
the darkness in places, the faint glow from partly ex-
tinct fires, and the curious shadows cast on the white-
washed walls were all disposed to be startling; and,
well as I knew the place, I often found myself shrink-
ing as I came suddenly upon some piece of machinery
that assumed in the darkness the aspect of some hor-
rible monster about to seize me as J went my rounds.
Upon the other hand, there was a pleasant feeling of
importance in going about that great dark place of a
night, with a lantern at my belt, a stout stick in my
hand, and a bull-dog at my heels, and this sensation
helped to make the work more bearable.
On this particular night I had paced silently all
about the place several times, thinking a good deal
about my little encounter with Uncle Jack, and about
the last letters I had had from my father. Then, as
all seemed perfectly right, 1 had seated myself by the
big furnace, which emitted a dull red glow, not suffi-
cient to light the place, but enough to make it pleasantly
warm, and to show that if a blast were directed in the
coals, a fierce fire would soon be kindled.
I did not feel at all sleepy now; in fact, in spite of
the warmth this furnace-house would not have been a
pleasant place to sleep in, for the windows on either
side were open, having no glass, only iron bars, and
those on one side looked over the dam, while the others
(322) @
98 I GROW DROWSY.
were in the wall that abutted on the lane leading down
to the little river.
Piter had been with me all through my walk round,
but, seeing me settle down, he had leaped on to the hot
ashes and proceeded to curl himself up in a nice warm
place, where the probabilities were that he would soon
begin to cook.
Piter had been corrected for this half a dozen times
over, but he had to be bullied again, and leaping off the
hot ashes he had lowered his tail and trotted back to
his kennel, where he curled himself up.
All was very still as I sat there, except that the
boom and throb of the busy town where the furnaces
and steam-engines were at work kept going and com-
ing in waves of sound; and as I sat, I found myself
thinking about the beauty of the steel that my uncles
had set themselves to produce; and how, when a piece
was snapped across, breaking like a bit of glass, the
fracture looked all of a silvery bluish-gray.
Then I began thinking about our tall chimney, and
what an unpleasant place mine would be to sit in if
there were a furious storm, and the shaft were blown
down; and then, with all the intention to be watchful,
I began to grow drowsy, and jumping up, walked up
and down the furnace-house and round the smoulder-
ing fire, whose chimney was a creat inverted funnel
depending from the open roof.
I grew tired of walking about and sat down again,
to begin thinking once more.
How far is it from thinking-to sleeping and dream-
ing? Who can answer that question?
To me it seemed that I was sitting thinking, and
that as I thought there in the darkness, where I could
see the fire throwing up its feeble glow on to the dim-
PITER WAGS HIS TAIL 99
looking open windows on either side, some great animal
came softly in through the window on my left, and
then disappeared for a few moments, to appear again
on my right where the wall overlooked the lane.
That window seemed to be darkened for a minute
or two, and then became light again, while once more
that on my left grew dark, and I saw the figure glide out.
I seemed, as I say, to have been thinking, and as I
thought it all appeared to be a dream, for it would have
been impossible for any one to have crept in at one
window, passing the furnace and back again without
disturbing me.
Yes; I told myself it was all fancy, and as I thought
I told myself that I started awake, and looked sharply
at first one window, and then at the other, half expect-
ing to see someone there.
“JT was asleep and dreaming,†I said to myself; and,
starting up impatiently, I walked right out of the
furnace-house across the strip of yard, and in at the
door, making Piter give his stumpy tail a sharp rap-
ping noise upon the floor of his kennel.
I went on all through the grinding workshop, and
listened at the end of the place to the water trickling
and dripping down in the great water-floored cellar.
That place had an attraction for me, and I stood
listening for some minutes before walking back,
thoroughly awake now.
I was so used to the place that I had no need to open
the lantern, but threaded my way here and there
without touching a thing, and I was able to pass right
through to the upper floor in the same way.
Everything was correct, and Uncle Jack sleeping
soundly, as I hoped to be after another hour or so’s
watching.
100 A BAD WATCHMAN.
T would not disturb him, but stole out again, and
along the workshop to the head of the stairs, where I
descended and stooped to pat Piter again before look-
ing about the yard, and then walking slowly into the
warm furnace-house.
Then, after a glance at the windows where I had
fancied I had seen someone creep in, I sat down in my
old place enjoying the warmth, and once more the
drowsy sensation crept over me.
How long it was before I dropped asleep I can’t tell,
but, bad watchman that I was, I did drop asleep, and
began dreaming about the great dam miles away up
the valley; and there it seemed to me I was fishing
with a long line for some of the great pike that lurked
far down in the depths.
As I fished my line seemed to pass over a window-
sill and scraped against it, and made a noise which set
me wondering how large the fish must be that was
running away with it.
And then I was awake, with the perspiration upon
my forehead and my hands damp, listening.
It was no fishing-line. I was not by the great dam
up the river, but there in our own furnace-house, and
something was making a strange rustling noise.
For some few moments I could not tell where the
noise was. There was the rustling, and it seemed
straight before me. Then I knew it was there, for
immediately in front on the open fire something was
moving and causing a series of little flickers and
sparkles in the glowing ashes.
What could it be? What did it mean?
I was so startled that I was ready to leap up and
run out of the place, and it was some time before I
could summon up courage enough to stretch out a hand,
FRESH DANGER. 101
and try to touch whatever it was that moved the
glowing ashes.
Wire!
Yes; there was no doubt of it—wire. A long thin
wire stretched pretty tightly reached right across me,
and evidently passed from the window overlooking the
lane across the furnace and out of the window by the
side of the dam.
What did it mean—what was going to happen?
I asked myself these questions as I bent towards
the furnace, touching the wire which glided on through
my hand towards the window by the dam.
It was all a matter of moments, and I could feel
that someone must be drawing the wire out there by
the dam, though how I could not tell, for it seemed to
me that there was nothing but deep water there.
“Some one must have floated down the dam in a
boat,†I thought in a flash; but no explanation came to
the next part of my question, what was it for?
As I bent forward there wondering what it could
mean, I began to understand that there must be some
one out in the lane at the other end of the wire, and
in proof of this surmise I heard a low scraping noise.
at the window on my right, and thena hiss as if some-
one had drawn his breath in between his lips.
What could it mean?
I was one moment for shouting, “Who’s there?â€
the next for turning on my bull’s-eye; and again the
next for running and rousing up Uncle Jack.
Then I thought that I would shout and call to Piter;
but I felt that if I did either of these things I should
lose the clue that was gliding through my hands.
What could it mean?
The wire, invisible to me, kept softly stirring the
102 THAT SOFT CORD.
glowing ashes, and seemed to be visible there. Else-
where it was lost in the black darkness about me, but
I felt it plainly enough, and in my intense excitement,
hundreds of yards seemed to have passed through my
hand before I felt a check and in a flash knew what
was intended.
For, all at once, as the wire glided on, something
struck against my hand gently, and raising the other
it came in contact with a large canister wrapped round
and round with stout soft cord.
What for?
I knew in an instant; I had read of such outrages,
and it was to guard against them that we watched,
and kept that doe.
Thad hold of a large canister of gunpowder, and the
soft cord wrapped around it was prepared fuse.
I comprehended too the horrible ingenuity of the
scheme, which was to draw, by means of the wire, the
canister of gunpowder on to the furnace, so that the
fuse might catch fire, and that would give the mis-
creants who were engaged time to escape before the
powder was fired and brought the chimney-shaft top-
pling down.
For a moment I trembled and felt ready to drop the
canister, and run for my life.
Then I felt strong, for I knew that if I kept the
canister in my hands the fuse could not touch the
smouldering ashes and the plan would fail.
But how to do this without being heard -by the men
who must be on either side of the furnace-house.
It was easy enough; I had but to hold the canister
high up above the fire, and pass it over till it was be-
yond the burning ashes and then let it continue its
course to the other window.
SOUNDING THE ALARM. 103
It was a great risk, not of explosion, but of being
heard; but with a curious feeling of reckless excite-
ment upon me I held up the canister, stepping softly
over the ash floor, and guiding the terrible machine on
till the danger was passed.
Then stealing after it I climbed gently on to the
broad bench beneath the clean window, and with my
head just beneath it touched the wire, and waited till
the canister touched my hand again.
I had made no plans, but, urged on by the spirit of
the moment, I seized the canister with both hands,
gave it a tremendous jerk, and with my face at the
window roared out:
“Now, fire! fire! shoot ’em down
I stood on the work-bench then, astounded at the
effect of my cry.
Behind me there was a jerk at the wire, which snap-
ped, and I heard the rush of feet in the lane, while
before me out from the window there came a yell, a
tremendous splash, and then the sound of water being
beaten, and cries for help.
At the same moment Piter came rushing into the
furnace house, barking furiously, and directly after
there was the noise of feet on the stairs, and Uncle
Jack came in.
“What is it, Cob? Where’s your light?†he cried.
I had forgotten the lantern, but I turned it on now
as I tucked the canister beneath my arm.
“There’s a man or two men drowning out here in the
dam,†I panted hoarsely; and Unele Jack leaped on to
the bench by my side.
“Give me the lantern,†he cried; and, taking it from
my wet hands, he turned it on, held it to the open
window, and made it play upon the surface of the dam.
fiez
104 FUSE AND CANISTER.
“There are two men there, swimming to the side,â€
he cried. “Stop, you scoundrels!†he roared; but the
beating noise in the water increased. One seemed to
get his footing and held out his hand to his companion
in distress. The next minute I saw that they had gained
the stone wall at the side, over which they clambered,
and from there we heard them drop down on to the
gravel stones.
“They’re gone, Cob,†said my uncle.
“Shall we run after them?†I said.
“Tt would be madness,’ he replied. “Down, Piter!
quiet, good dog!â€
“Now what’s the meaning of it all?†he said after
turning the light round the place. “What did you
hear? Were they getting in?â€
“No,†I said; “they were trying to draw this canister
on to the fire with the wire; but I heard them and
got hold of it.â€
Uncle Jack turned the light of the bull’s-eye on to
the canister I held, and then turned it off again, as if
there were danger of its doing some harm with the
light alone, even after it had passed through glass.
“Why, Cob,†he said huskily, “did you get hold of
that?â€
“Yes, I stopped it,†I said, trembling now that the
excitement had passed.
“But was the fuse alight?â€
“No,†I said; “they were going to draw it over the
fire there, only I found it out in time.â€
“Why, Cob,†he whispered, “there’s a dozen pounds
of powder here wrapped round with all this fuse. Come
with me to put it in a place of safety: why, it would
have half-wrecked our works.â€
“Would it?†I said.
BLIND SAVAGES, 105
“Would it, boy! It would have been destruction,
perhaps death. Cob,†he whispered huskily, “ought we
to go on watching?â€
“Oh, Uncle Jack,†I said, “I suppose I am foolish
because I am so young!â€
“Cob, my boy,†he said softly; “if you had been ten
times as old you could not have done better than you
have done to-night. Here, let’s place this dreadful
canister in the water chamber: it will be safer there.â€
“But the men; will they come again?â€
“Not to-night, my lad. I think we are safe for a few
hours tocome. But what of the future, if these blind
savages will do such things as this?â€
CHAPTER IX.
DROWNING AN ENEMY.
DID not sleep that morning, but kept watch
with Uncle Jack,and as soonas themencame
to work I hurried off to Mrs. Stephenson’s
to tell the others of the night’s adventures.
Half an hour later they were with me at the works,
where a quiet examination was made, everything being
done so as not to take the attention of the work-people,
who were now busy.
We had first of all a good look round outside, and
found that beneath the window of the furnace-house
there were some half dozen great nails or spikes care-
fully driven into the wall, between the stones, so as to
make quite a flight of steps for an active man, and
across the window lay a tangled-together length of
thin wire.
We did not stop to draw out the nails for fear of
exciting attention, but strolled back at once into the
works,
And now once for all, when I say we, please to under-
stand that it is not out of conceit, for my share in our
adventures was always very small, but to avoid uncling
you all too much, and making so many repetitions of
the names of Uncle Dick, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Bob.
I saw several of the men look up from their work
as we went through the grinding shop, but they went
WHAT THE MESSENGER SAID. 107
on again with their task, making the blades they
ground shriek as they pressed them against the swiftly
revolving stones.
“They must know all about it, Uncle Bob,†I whis-
pered, and he gave me a meaning look.
“Yes,†he said softly; “that’s the worst of it, my lad.
Master and man ought to shake hands and determine
to fight one for the other; but, as you see, they take
opposite sides, and it is war.â€
We went next into the wheel-pit and had a look
round, after which Uncle Jack spoke aloud to the man
who acted as general engineer, and said he thought
that the great axle wanted seeing to and fresh clean-
ing.
"The man nodded, and said eruffly that he would see
to it, and then, as he turned away, I saw him wink at
one of the men grinding at a stone and thrust his
tongue into his cheek.
Just then he caught my eye, his countenance changed,
and he looked as foolish as a boy found out in some
peceadillo, but the next instant he scowled at me, and
his fierce dark eyes said as plainly as if they spoke:
“Say a word about that and I'll half kill you.
I read the threat aright, as will be seen; and, turning
to follow my uncles, I saw that the man was coming
on close behind me, with a look in his countenance
wonderfully like that with which he was being fol-
lowed by Piter, who, unobserved, was close at his heels,
sniffing quietly at his lees and looking as if he would
like to fix his teeth in one or the other.
Seeing this I stopped back, half expecting that Piter,
if left behind, might be kicked by the man’s heavy
clogs. The others did not notice my absence, but went
on out of the grinding shop, and the engineer came
close up to me, stooping down as I waited, and putting
his face close to mine.
“Look here, mester,’ he began in a low threatening
108 LATENT EVENTS.
tone, “do you know what’s meant by keeping thy
tongue atween thy teeth?â€
“Yes,†I cried; and in the same breath, “Mind the
dog! Down, Piter! Down!â€
The man made a convulsive leap as he caught sight
of the dog, and his intention was to alight upon the
frame-work of one of the large grindstones close by
his side—one that had just been set in motion, but
though he jumped high enough he did now allow for
the lowness of the ceiling, against which he struck his
head, came down in a sitting position on the grind-
stone, and was instantly hurled off to the floor.
This was Piter’s opportunity, and with a low growl
and a bound he was upon the man’s chest. Another
moment and he would have had him by the throat,
but I caught him by the collar and dragged him off,
amidst the murmur of some, and the laughter of others
of the men.
I did not want to look as if I was afraid, but this
seemed to be a good excuse for leaving the grinding
shop, and, holding on by Piter’s collar, 1 led him out.
Just before I reached the door, though, I heard one
of the men say to his neighbour—heard it plainly over
the whirr and churring of the stones:
“ve know’d dawes poisoned for less than that.â€
“What shall I do?†I asked myself as soon as I was
outside; but the answer did not come. I could only
think that my uncles had trouble enough on their
hands, and that though it was very evident that the
men at work for them were not very well affected, it
was not likely that we had any one who would wil-
fully do us an injury.
After all, too, nobody had threatened to poison the
dog; it was only a remark about what had been known
to happen.
All this had taken but a very short time, and by
the time I had joined my uncles they were just entering
THE RAFT. 109
He office on the upper floor that looked over the
am,
There were several men at work here at lathes and
benches, and their tools made so much noise that they
did not notice my entrance, closely followed by the
dog; and so it was that I found out that they, too,
must have known all about the cowardly attempt of
the night, for one said to another:
“Didn't expect to be at work here this morning;
did you, mate?â€
“No,†growled the man addressed; “but why can’t
they leave un aloan. They pay reg’lar, and they’re
_ elvil.â€
“What do you mean?†said the first speaker sharply.
“You going to side wi un! What do we want wi’ a
set o’ inventing corckneys here!â€
Just then he caught sight of me, and swung round
and continued his work, while I walked straight to
the office door and went in, where Uncle Jack was
just opening a window that looked out upon the dam.
“Yes,†he said, “here we are.â€
He pointed to a sort of raft formed of a couple of
planks placed about five feet apart and across which a
dozen short pieces of wood had been nailed, forming a
buoyant platform, on which no doubt our enemies had
floated themselves down from the head of the dam,
where there was a timber yard.
“All plain enough now,†said Uncle Jack, grinding
his teeth. “Oh, if I could have had hold of those two
fellows by the collar when they fell in!â€
“Well,†said Uncle Bob, “what would you have
done—drowned them?â€
“ Not quite,†said Uncle Jack; “but they would have
swallowed a great deal more water than would have
been good for them.â€
“Never mind about impossible threats,†said Uncle
Dick. “ Let’s examine the powder canister now.â€
110 DANGEROUS IMPLEMENTS.
This was taken from its resting-place during the
time the men were at breakfast and carried into the
office, where the dangerous weapon of our enemies was
laid upon the desk and examined.
It was a strong tin canister about ten inches high
and six across, and bound round and round, first with
strong string and afterwards loosely with some soft
black-looking cord, which Unele Dick said was fuse;
and he pointed out where one end was passed through
a little hole punched through the bottom of the canister,
while the loosely-twisted fuse was held on by thin
wire, which allowed the soft connection with the
powder to hang out in loops.
“Yes,†said Unele Dick; “if that is good fuse, the
very fact of any part touching a spark or smouldering
patch of ash would be enough to set it alight, and
there is enough, I should say, to burn for a quarter of
an hour before it reaches the powder. Yes, a good
ten pounds of it,†he added, balancing the canister in
his hands. ‘
“But it may be a scare,’ said Uncle Bob: “done to
frighten us. We don’t know yet that it is powder.â€
“Qh, we'll soon prove that,†cried Uncle Jack,
taking out his knife.
“Unele! Take care!†I eried in agony, for I seemed
to see sparks flying from his knife, and the powder
exploding and blowing us to atoms.
“Tf you are afraid, Cob, you had better go back
home,†he said rather erufily, as he cut the fuse
through and tore it off, to lie in a little heap as soon
as he had freed it from the wire.
Then the string followed, and the canister stood up-
right before us on the desk.
“Looks as harmless as if it were full of arrow-root
or mustard,†said Uncle Bob coolly. “Perhaps, after all,
it is a scare.â€
I stood there with my teeth closed tightly, deter-
1?
THE WAY OUT. 111
mined not to show fear, even if the horrible stuff did
blow up. For though there was no light in the room,
and the matches were in a cupboard, I could not get.
out of my head the idea that the stuff might explode,
and it seemed terrible to me for such a dangerous
machine to be handled in what appeared to be so reck-
less a way.
“Lid fits pretty tight,†said Uncle Jack, trying to
screw it off.
“Don’t do that, old fellow,†said Uncle Dick. “It
would be grinding some of the dust round, and the
friction might fire it.â€
“Well, yes, it might,†replied Uncle Jack. “ Not
likely though, and I want to examine the powder.â€
“That's easily done,.my boy. Pull that bit of fuse
out of the hole, and let some of the powder trickle
out.â€
“Bravo! man of genius,†said Uncle Jack; and he
drew out the plug of fuse that went through the
bottom of the canister.
As he did this over a sheet of paper a quantity of
black grains like very coarse dry sand began to trickle
out and run on to the paper, forming quite a heap, and
as the powder ran Uncle Jack looked round at his
brother and smiled sadly.
“Not done to frighten us, eh, Bob!†he said. “Tf
that stuff had been fired the furnace-house and chim-
ney would have been levelled.â€
“Why, Cob,†said Uncle Dick, laying his hand affec-
tionately upon my shoulder. “You must be a brave
fellow to have hauled that away from the furnace.â€
“T did not feel very brave just now,†I said bitterly.
“When Uncle Jack began to handle that tin I felt as
if I musé run away.â€
“But you didn’t,†said Uncle Bob, smiling at me.
“Ts that gunpowder?†I said hastily, so as to change
the conversation.
112 BLASTING POWDER.
“No doubt of it, my lad,†said Uncle Jack, scooping
it up in his hand, so that it might trickle through his
fincers. “Strong blasting powder. Shall I fire some
and try?â€
“If you like,†I said sulkily, for it was, I knew, said
to tease me.
“ Well, what’s to be done, boys?†said Uncle Jack.
“ Are we going to lay this before the police? It isa
desperate business!â€
“ Desperate enough, but we shall do no good, and
only give ourselves a great deal of trouble if we go to
the law. The police might trace out one of the offen-
ders; but if they did, what then? It would not stop
the attempts to harm us. No: I’m of opinion that our
safety lies in our own watchfulness. A more terrible
attempt than this could not be made.â€
“ What shall we do with the powder, then?†asked
Uncle Bob; “save it to hoist some of the scoundrels
with their own petard?â€
“ Oh, of course if you like,†said Unele Jack. “ Fancy
Bob trying to blow anybody up with gunpowder!â€
“When he can’t even do it with his breath made
into words.â€
“ Ah! joke away,†said Uncle Bob; “but I want to
see you get rid of that horrible stuffâ€
“ We don’t want to save it then?†said Uncle Jack.
“No, no; get rid of it.â€
“That's soon done then,†said Uncle Jack, tyine a
piece of the cord round the canister; and, going to the
open window, he lowered it down over the deep water
in the dam, where it sank like a stone, and drew the
cord after it out of sight.
“ There,†he cried, “that will soon be so soaked with
water that it will be spoiled.â€
“ Who's that,†1 said, “on the other side of the dam?
He’s watching us,’
g Squintum the grinder. What's his name—Griggs.
AN EXPERIMENT. 113
Yes, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if that scoundrel
had a hand—â€
“ Both hands,†put in Uncle Bob.
“Well, both hands in this ugly business.â€
“But couldn’t you prove it against him?†I said.
“ No, my lad,†said Uncle Jack; “and I don’t know
that we want to. Wretched misouided lumps of igno-
rance. I don’t want to help to transport the villains.â€
We had drawn back from the window to where there
was still a little heap of powder on the desk as well as
the fuse.
“Come, Bob,†said Uncle Jack; “ you may not be
quite convinced yet, so I'll show you an experiment.â€
He took about a teaspoonful of the powder, and
placed it in a short piece of iron pipe which he laid on
the window-sill, and then taking the rest of the explo-
sive, he gave it a jerk and scattered it over the water.
Then taking about a yard of the black soft cord
that he said was fuse, he tucked one end in the pipe
so that it should rest upon the powder, laid the rest
along the window-sill, and asked me to get the
matches.
“ Now,†he said, “if that’s what I think—cleverly
made fuse, and good strong powder—we shall soon see
on a small scale what it would have done on a large.
Strike a match, Cob.â€
I did as I was told, feeling as if I was going to let
off a very interesting firework, and as soon as the
splint was well alight I was about to hold the little
flame to the end of the fuse, but Uncle Jack stopped me.
“No,†he said, “I want to see if a spark would have
lit it. I mean I want to see if just drawing the canister
over the remains of the furnace-fire would have started
the fuse. That’s it, now just touch the end quickly
with the match.â€
There was only a little spark on the wood, and no
flame, as I touched the side of the fuse.
(322) H
114 THE PROOF.
The effect was instantaneous. The soft black-look-
ing cord burst into scintillations, tiny sparks flew off
on all sides, anda dull fire began to burn slowly along
the fuse.
“ Capitally made,†said Uncle Jack. “That would
have given the scoundrels plenty of warning that the
work was well done, and they would have “been able
to get to a distance before the explosion took place.â€
* And now we shall see whether the powder is good,â€
said Uncle Dick.
“ But how slowly it burns!†said Uncle Bob.
“But how surely,†I had it on my lips to say.
I did not speak though, for I was intently watching
the progress of the sparks as they ran along the fuse
slowly and steadily; and as I eazed I seemed to see
what would have gone on in the ereat dark building
if I had not been awakened by the scraping sound of
the canister being hauled over bench and floor.
I shuddered as I watched intently, for the fuse
seemed as if it would never burn through, and even
when, after what in my excitement seemed a long space
of time, it did reach the iron pipe, though a few sparks
came from inside, the powder did not explode.
“Uncle Bob’s right!†I cried with an intense feeling
of relief; “that was not powder, and they only tried
to frighten us.â€
Puff!
There was a sharp flash from each end of the iron
tube, and one little ball of white smoke came into the
office, while another darted out into the sunny morning
air.
“Wrong, Cob,†said Unele Jack. “Splendidly-made
fuse and tremendously-strong powder. We have had a
very narrow escape. Now, lads, what’s to be done?â€
“What do you say, Jack?†said Uncle Dick.
“Do our duty—be always on -the watch—fight it
out.â€
FLUID STEEL. 115
“That's settled,†said Uncle Dick. “Now let’s get
to work again. Cob, you can come and see us cast
some steel ingots if you like.â€
“ Cast!†I said.
“Ves, cast. You know what that is?â€
“Ves, of course.â€
“But you never saw it liquid so that it could be
poured out like water.â€
“No,†I said, as I followed him, wondering whether
I had not better tell him that I had overheard a strange
remark about poisoning a dog, and ask if he thought
there was any risk about Piter, who seemed to grow
much uglier every day, and yet T liked him better.
The end of it was that I ‘saw the steel lifted out of
the furnace in crucibles and poured forth like golden-
silver water into charcoal moulds, but I did not speak
about the dog.
SENS =
BS
CHAPTER X.
‘ONIGHT, MATE,â€
=0/S it happened, Mr. Tomplin came in that
evening, and when he asked how matters
were progressing at the works, Uncle Dick
looked round and seemed to be asking his
brothers whether he should speak.
“Ah! I see,†said Mr. Tomplin; “they have been up
to some tricks with you.â€
“Tricks is a mild term,†said Uncle Jack bitterly.
“They have not tried to blow you up?â€
“Indeed but they did!†said Uncle Jack fiercely;
“and if it had not been for the coolness and bravery
of my nephew there the place would have been de-
stroyed.â€
“Tut! tut! tut!†ejaculated Mr. Tomplin; and putting
on his spectacles he stared at me in the most provoking
way, making me feel as if I should like to knock his
glasses off.
“Ts it customary for your people here to fire canisters
of gunpowder in the workshops of those who are new-
comers?â€
“Sometimes,†said Mr. Tomplin coolly.
“But such things would destroy life.â€
“Well, not always life, my dear sir,†said Mr,
Tomplin, “but very often great bodily injury is done.â€
“Very often?â€
MR. TOMPLIN’S OPINIONS. 117
“Well, no, not very often now, but we have had a
great many trade outrages in our time.â€
“But what have we done beyond taking possession
of a building for which we have paid a large sum of
money?â€
“Tt is not what you have done, my dear sirs; it is
what you are about todo. The workpeople have got
it into their heads that you are going to invent some
kind of machinery that will throw them out of work.â€
“Nothing of the kind, my dear sir. We are trying
to perfect an invention that will bring a vast deal of
trade to Arrowfield.â€
“But you will not be able to make them believe that
till the business comes.â€
“ And before then, I suppose, we are to be killed?â€
Mr. Tomplin looked very serious, and stared hard at
me, as if it was all my fault.
“My dear sirs,†he said at last, “I hardly know how
to advise you. It isa most unthankful task to try and
invent anything, especially down here. People are so
blindly obstinate and wilful that they will not listen to
reason. Why not go steadily on with manufacturing
in the regular way? What do you say, my young
friend?†he added, turning to me.
“Why not ask the world to stand still, sir?†I ex-
claimed impetuously. “TI say it’s a shame!â€
He looked very hard at me, and then pursed up his
lips, while I felt that I had been speaking very rudely
to him, and could only apologize to myself by thinking
that irritation was allowable, for only last night we
had been nearly blown up.
“Would you put the matter in the hands of the
police?†said Unele Dick.
“Well, you might,†said Mr. Tomplin.
“But you would not,†said Uncle Bob.
“No, I don’t think I should, if it were my case. I
should commence an action for damages if I could find
118 A QUESTION OF ARMS.
an enemy who had any money, but it is of no use fight-
ing men of straw.â€
Mr. Tomplin soon after went away, and I looked at
my uncles, wondering what they would say. But as
they did not speak I broke out with:
“Why, he seemed to think nothing of it.â€
“Custom of the country,†said Uncle Bob, laughing.
“Come, Dick, it’s our turn now.â€
“Right!†said Uncle Dick; but Uncle Jack laid hold
of his shoulder. :
“Look here,†he said. “I don’t like the idea of you
two going down there.â€
“No worse for us than for you,†said Uncle Bob.
“Perhaps not, but the risk seems too great.â€
“ Never mind,†said Uncle Dick. “I’m not going to
be beaten. It’s war to the knife, and I’m not going to
give up.â€
“They are not likely to try anything to-night,†said
Uncle Bob. “There, you two can walk down with us
and look round to see if everything is all right and
then come back.â€
“Don’t you think you ought to have pistols?†said
Unele Jack.
“No,†replied Uncle Dick firmly. “We have our
sticks, and the dog, and we'll do our best with them.
If a pistol is used it may mean the destruction of a
life, and I would rather give up our adventure than
have blood upon our hands.â€
“Yes, you are right,†said Uncle Jack. “If bodily
injury or destruction is done let them have the dis-
grace on their side.â€
We started off directly, and I could not help noticing
how people kept staring at my uncles.
It was not the respectably-dressed people so much
as the rough workmen, who were hanging about with
their pipes, or standing outside the public-house doors.
These scowled and talked to one another in a way
UNCLE JACK IS UNEASY. 119
that I did not like, and more than once I drew Uncle
Dick’s attention to it, but he only smiled.
“We're strangers,†he said. “They'll get used to us
by and by.â€
There was not a soul near the works as we walked
up to the gate and were saluted with a furious fit of
barking from Piter, who did not know our steps till
the key was rattled in the gate. Then he stopped at
once and gave himself a shake and whined.
It was growing dusk as we walked round the yard,
to find everything quite as it should be. A look up-
stairs and down showed nothing suspicious; and after
a few words regarding keeping a sharp look-out and
the like we left the watchers of the night and walked
back.
“Cob,†said Uncle Jack as we sat over our supper,
“J don’t like those two poor fellows being left there
by themselves.â€
“Neither do I, uncle,’ I said. “Why not give up
watching the place and let it take its chance?â€
“Because we had such an example of the safety of
the place and the needlessness of the task?â€
“Don’t be hard on me, uncle,†I said quickly. “I
meant that it would be better to sufter serious loss
than to have someone badly injured in defending the
place.â€
“Youre right, Cob—quite right,†cried Uncle Jack,
slapping the table. “Here, you make me feel like a
boy. I believe you were born when you were an old
Man.
“Nonsense!†I said, laughing.
“But you don’t talk nonsense, sir. What are you—
a fairy changeling? Here, let’s go down to the works.â€
“Go down?†I said.
“To be sure. I couldn’t go to bed to-night and
sleep. I should be thinking that those two poor fel-
lows were being blown up, or knobsticked, or turned
120 A NIGHT VISIT.
out. We'll have them back and leave Piter to take
care of the works, and give him a rise in his wages.â€
“Of an extra piece of meat every day, uncle?â€
“Tf you had waited a few minutes longer, sir, 1
should have said that,†he replied, laughing; and tak-
ing his hat and stick we went down the town, talking
about the curious vibrations and thr obbings we could
hear; of the heavy rumbling and the flash and glow
that came from the different works. Some were so
lit up that it seemed as if the windows were fiery eyes
staring out of the darkness, and more than once we
stopped to gaze in at some cranny where furnaces
were kept going night and day and the work never
seemed to stop.
As we left the steam-engine part behind, the solitary
stillness of our district seemed to be more evident; and
though we passed one policeman, I could not help
thinking how very little help we should be able to
find in a case of great emergency.
Uncle Jack had chatted away freely enough as we
went on; but as we drew nearer to the works he be-
came more and more silent, and when we had reached
the lane he had not spoken for fully ten minutes.
Eleven o'clock was striking and all- seemed very
still, Not a light was visible on that side, and the
neighbouring works were apparently quite empty as
we stood and listened.
“Let's walk along by the side of the dam, Cob,†said
Unele Jack. “I don’t suppose we shall see anything,
but let’s have a look how the place seems by night.â€
I followed close behind him, and we passed under
the one gas lamp that showed the danger of the path
to anyone going along; for in the darkness there was
nothing to prevent a person from walking right into
the black dam, which looked quite beautiful and coun-
trified now, spangled all over, as ib was, with the reflec-
tions of the stars.
A FURIOUS CHALLENGE. 121
I was going to speak, but Uncle Jack raised his
hand for me to be silent, and I crept closer to him,
wondering what reason he had for stopping me; and
then he turned and caught my arm, for we had reached
the. end of the dam where it communicated with the
river.
Just then two men approached, and one said to the
other:
“Tell ‘ee, they changes every night. Sometimes it's
one and the boy, sometimes two on ’em together. The
boy was there last night, and Hullo! ‘night, mate!â€
“Night!†growled Uncle Jack in an assumed voice
as he slouched down and gave mea shake. “Coom on,
wilt ta!†he said hoarsely; and I followed him without
a word.
“T tried it, Cob,†he whispered as we listened to the
retreating steps of the men. “I don’t think they knew
us in the dark.â€
“They were talking about us,†I said.
“Yes; that made me attempt to disguise my voice.
Here, let’s get back. Hark! there’s the dog. Quick!
something may be wrong.â€
We set off at a trot in the direction that the men
had taken, but we did not pass them, for they had
gone down to their right; but there was no doubt
existing that the affairs at the works were well known
and that we were surrounded by enemies; and perhaps ~
some of them were busy now, for Jupiter kept on his
furious challenge, mingling it with an angry growl,
that told of something being wrong.
CHAPTER XI,
PANNELL’S PET
HO’S there?â€
“All right—open the door! Cob and I
have come down to see how you are get-
ting on,†said Uncle Jack.
The gate was unlocked and a stout iron
bar that had been added to the defences taken down.
“Why, what brings you two here?†cried Uncle
Dick. “ What’s the matter?â€
“That's what we want to know. How long has the
dog been uneasy?â€
“For the past hour. I had gone to le down; Bob
was watchman. All at once Piter began barking furi-
ously, and I got up directly.â€
“ Let’s have another look round,†said Uncle Jack.
“Here, Piter!†I cried; “what’s the matter, old
fellow?â€
The dog whined and laid his great jowl in my hand,
blinking up at me and trying to make his savage grin
seem to be a pleasant smile; but all at once he started
away, threw up his head, and barked again angrily.
“What is it, old fellow?†I said. “Here, show us
them. What is it?â€
Piter looked at me, whined, and then barked again
angrily as if there was something very wrong indeed;
but he could only smell it in the air. What it was or
where it was he did not seem to know.
TAKING OUR CHANCES. 123
We had a good look round, searching everywhere,
and not without a great deal of trepidation; for after
the past night’s experience with the powder it was
impossible to help feeling nervous.
That’s what Uncle Jack called it. I felt in a regular
fright.
“Everything seems quite satisfactory,’ Uncle Jack
was fain to say at last. And then, “ Look here, boys,â€
he cried, “Cob and I have been talking this matter
over, and we say that the works must take care of
themselves. You two have to come back with us.â€
“What! and leave the place to its fate?†said Uncle
Dick.
“Yes. Better do that than any mishap should come
to you.†;
“What do you say, Bob?â€
“Tve a very great objection to being blown up,
knocked on the head, or burned,†said Uncle Bob
quietly. “It’s just so with a soldier; he does not want
to be shot, bayoneted, or sabred, but he has to take
his chance. I’m going to take mine.â€
“So am J,†said Uncle Dick.
“But, my dear boys—â€
«There, it’s of no use; is it, Bob?†cried Uncle Dick.
“Tf we give way hell always be bouncing over us
about how he kept watch and we daren’t.â€
“Nonsense!†cried Uncle Jack.
“Well, if you didn’t,†said Uncle Bob, “that cocky
consequential small man of a boy, Cob, will be always
going about with his nose in the air and sneering. I
shall stay.
“Then we will stay with you.â€
My uncles opposed this plan, but Unele Jack declared
that he could not sleep if he went back; so the others
gave in and we stayed, taking two hours turns, and
the night passed slowly by.
Every now and then Piter had an uneasy fit, burst-
124 OUR SWARTHY GIANT.
ing out into a tremendous series of barks and howls,
but there seemed to be no reason for the outery.
He was worst during the watch kept by Uncle Jack
and me after we had had a good sleep, and there was
something very pathetic in the way the poor dog looked
at us, as “much as to say, “T wish I could speak and
put you on your guard.â€
But the night passed without any trouble; the men
came in to their work, and with the darkness the fear
seemed to have passed away. For there in the warm
sunshine the water of the dam was dancing and
sparkling, the great wheel went round, and inside the
works the grindstones were whizzing and the steel
being oround was screeching, Bellows puffed, and
fires roared, and there was the clink clank of hammers
sounding musically wpon the anvils, as the men forged
blades out of the improved steel my uncles were trying
to perfect.
Business was increasing, and matters went so
smoothly during the next fortnight that our troubles
seemed to be at an end. In one week six fresh men
were engaged, and after the sluggish times in London,
where for a couple of years past business had been
gradually dying off, everything seemed to be most
encouraging.
Some of the men engaged were queer characters.
One was a creat swarthy giant with hardly any face
visible for black hair, and to look at he seemed fit for
a bandit, but to talk to he was one of the most gentle
and amiable of men. He was a smith, and when he
was at the anvil he used almost to startle me, he
handled a heavy hammer so violently.
I often stood at the door watching him seize a piece
of steel with the tongs, whisk it out of the forge with
a flourish that sent the white-hot scintillations flying
through the place, bang it down on the anvil, and then
beat it savagely into the required shape.
I MAKE FRIENDS. 125
Then he would thrust it into the fire again, begin
blowing the bellows with one hand and stroke a kitten
that he kept at the works with his unoccupied hand,
talking to 1 all the time in a little squeaking voice
like a boy’s.
He was very fond of swinging the sparkling and
sputterine steel about my head whenever I went in,
but he was always civil, and the less I heeded his
queer ways the more civil he became.
There was a grinder, too, taken on at the same time,
a short round-looking man, with plump cheeks, and
small eyes which were often mere slits in his face. He
had a little soft nose, too, that looked like a plump
thumb, and moved up and down and to right and left
when he was intent upon his work. He was the best-
tempered man in the works, and seemed to me as if he
was always laughing and showing his two rows of
firm white teeth.
I somehow quite struck up an acquaintance with
these two men, for while the others looked askant at
me and treated me as if I were my uncle’s spy, sent
into the works to see how the men kept on, Pannell
the smith and Gentles the grinder were always ready
to be civil.
My friendliness with Pannell began one morning
when I had caught a mouse up in the office overlook-
ing the dam, where I spent most of my time making
drawings and models with Uncle Bob.
This mouse I took down as a bonne bouche for
Pannell’s kitten, and as soon as he saw the little crea-
ture seize it and begin to spit and swear, he rested
upon his hammer handle and stopped to watch it.
Next time I went into the smithy he did not flourish
the white-hot steel round my head, but gave it a
flourish in another direction, banged it down upon the
anvil, and in a very short time had turned it into the
blade of a small hand-bill.
126 AT THE ANVIL
“You couldn’t do that,†he said smiling, as he cooled
the piece of steel and threw it down on the floor before
taking out another.
“Not like that,†I said. “I could do it roughly.â€
“Yah! Not you,†he said. “Try.â€
I was only too eager, and seizing the pincers I took
out one of the glowing pieces of steel lying ready, laid
it upon the anvil and beat it into shape, forming a
rough imitation of the work I had been watching, but
with twice as many strokes, taking twice as long, and
producing work not half so good.
When I had done he picked up the implement,
turned it over and over, looked at ine, threw it down,
and then went and stroked his kitten, staring straight
before him.
“Why, I couldn’t ha’ done a bit o’ forging like that
when I’d been at it fower year,†he said in his high-
pitched voice.
“But my uncles have often shown me how,†I said.
“What! can they forge?†he said, staring very hard
at me.
“Oh, yes, as well as you can!â€
He blew hard at the kitten and then shook his head
in a dissatisfied way, after which it seemed as if I had
offended him, for he seized his hammer and pincers
and began working away very hard, finishing a couple
of the steel bill-hooks before he spoke again.
“Which on ’em ’vented this here contrapshion?†he
said, pointing to an iron bar, by touching which he
could direct a blast of air into his fire without having
the need of a man or boy to blow.
“Unele John,†I said.
“What! him wi’ the biggest head?â€
I nodded.
“Yes; he said that with the water-wheel going it
was easy to contrive a way to blow the fires.â€
“Humph! Can he forge a bill-hook or a scythe blade?â€
UNCLE JACK SHOWS THE WAY. 12
“Oh, yes!â€
“ Who’s venting the noo steel?â€
“Oh, they are all helping! It was Uncle Richard
who first started it.â€
“Qh, Uncle Richard, was it?†he said thoughtfully.
“Well, it won’t niver do.â€
“Why ue ,
‘ a a two, and never bear no edge.â€
“Who says so?â€
“Traiide,†he cried. “Steel was good enough as it
weer.â€
Just then, as luck had it, Uncle Jack came into the
smithy, and stood and watched the man as he scowled
heavily and flourished out the hot steel as if he re-
sented being watched.
“You are not forging those hand-bills according to
pattern, my man,†said Uncle Jack, as he saw one
finished, Pannell beatine the steel with savage vehe-
mence, and seeming as if he wished it were Uncle Jack’s
head.
“That's way to forge a hand-bill,†said the man
sourly.
“Your way,†said Uncle Jack quietly. “Not mine.
I gave you a pattern. These are being made of anew
steel.â€
“Good for nought,†said the man; but Uncle Jack
paid no heed, assuming not to have heard the remark.
“And I want them to look different to other
people’s.â€
“Do it yoursen then,†said the great fellow savagely;
and he threw down the hammer and pincers.
“Yes, perhaps I had better,†said Uncle Jack, rolling
up his white shirt-sleeves, after taking off his coat and
throwing it to me.
I saw Pannell glower at the pure white skin that
covered creat muscles as big and hard as his own, while,
after unhooking a leather ' apron from where it hung,
~T
128 PANNELL IS WON.
the lever was touched, the fire roared, and at last Uncle
Jack brought out a piece of white-hot steel, banged it
on the anvil, and rapidly beat it into shape.
Every stroke had its object, and not one unnecessary
blow fell, while in a short time he held in the water,
which hissed angrily, a hand-bill that was beautifully
made, and possessed a graceful curve and hook that
the others wanted.
“There,†said Uncle Jack. “That’s how I want them
made.â€
The man’s face was set in a savage vindictive look,
full of jealous annoyance, at seeing a well-dressed
gentleman strip and use the smith’s hammer and pin-
cers better than he could have used them himself.
“Make me one now after that pattern,’ said Unele
Jack.
It seemed to me that the giant was going to tear off
his leather apron furiously and stride out of the place;
but just then Uncle Jack stretched out his great strong
hand and lifted up Pannell’s kitten, which had sprung
upon. the forge and was about to set its little paws on
the hot cinders.
“Poor pussy!†he said, standing it in one hand and
stroking it with the other. “You mustn’t burn those
little paws and singe that coat. Is this the one that
had the mouse, Cob?â€
Just as I answered, “ Yes,’ I saw the great smith
change his aspect, pick up the still hot hand-bill that
Unele Jack had forged, stare hard at it on both sides,
and then, throwing it down, he seized the pincers in one
hand, the forge shovel in the other, turned on the blast
and made the fire glow, and at last whisked out a piece
of white-hot steel.
This he in turn banged down on the anvil—stithy
he called it—and beat into shape.
It was not done so skilfully as Uncle Jack had forged
his, but the work was good and quick, and when he
UNPLEASANT DAYS. 129
had done, the man cooled it and held it out with all
the rough independence of the north-countryman.
“ Suppose that may do, mester,†he said, and he stared
at where Uncle Jack still stroked the kitten, which
made a platform of his broad palm, and purred and
rubbed itself against his chest.
“Capitally!†said Uncle Jack, setting down the
kitten gently. “Yes; I wouldn't wish to see better
work.â€
“Aw raight!†said Pannell; and he went on with his
work, while Uncle Jack and I walked across the yard
to the office.
“We shall get all right with the men by degrees,
Cob,†he said. “That fellow was going to be nasty,
but he smoothed himself down. You see now the use
of a master being able to show his men how to handle
their tools.â€
“Yes,†I said, laughing; “but that was not all. Pan-
nell would have gone if it had not been for one thing.â€
“What was that?†he said.
“You began petting his kitten, and that made him
friends.â€
I often used to go into the smithy when Pannell
was at work after that, and now and then handled his
tools, and he showed me how to use them more skilfully,
so that we were pretty good friends, and he never
treated me as if I were a spy.
The greater part of the other men did, and no matter
how civil I was they showed their dislike by having
accidents as they called them, and these accidents
always happened when I was standing by and at no
other time.
For instance a lot of water would be splashed, so that
some fell upon me; a jet of sparks from a grindstone
would flash out in my face as I went past; the band of
a stone would be loosened, so that it flapped against
me and knocked off my cap. Then pieces of iron fell,
(822) i
130 I GET SPLASHED.
or were thrown, no one knew which, though they
knew where, for the place was generally on or close
by my unfortunate body.
I was in the habit of frequently going to look down
in the wheel chamber or pit, and one day, as I stepped
on to the threshold, my feet glided from under me, and
but for my activity in catching at and hanging by the
iron bar that crossed the way I should have plunged
headlong in.
There seemed to be no reason for such a slip, but the
men laughed brutally, and when I looked I found that
the sill had been well smeared with fat.
There was the one man in the grinders’ shop, though,
whom I have mentioned, and who never seemed to side
with his fellow workers, but looked half pityingly at
me whenever I seemed to be in trouble.
I went into the grinding shop one morning, where
all was noise and din, the wheels spinning and the
steel shrieking as it was being ground, when all at once
a quantity of water such as might have been thrown
from a pint pot came all over me.
I turned round sharply, but every one was at work
except the stout grinder, who, with a look of disgust
on his face, stood wiping his neck with a blue cotton
handkerchief, and then one cheek.
“ Any on it come on you, mester?†he said.
“ Any come on me!†I cried indignantly—* look.â€
“It be a shaim—a reo’lar shaiim,†he said slowly;
“and I’d like to know who throwed that watter. Here,
let me.â€
He came from his bench, or horse as the grinders
call their seat, and kindly enough brushed the water
away from my jacket with his handkerchief.
“Don’t tak’ no notice of it,’ he said. ‘“They’re nob-
but a set o fullish boys as plays they tric] ks, and if you
tell on ’em they'll give it to you worse.’
T took his advice, and said nothing then, but naturally
EELS IN THE DAM. 131
enough, spoke to my uncles about it when we were
alone at night.
“Never mind,†said Uncle Dick. “I daresay we
shall get the fellows to understand in time that we are
their friends and not their enemies.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack; “they are better. I dare
say it will all come right in time.â€
It was soon after this that I went into the grinding
shop one day while the men were at dinner, and going
to the door that opened into the wheel chamber, which
always had a fascination for me, I stood gazing down
into its depths and listening to the splashing water.
“Tver try to ketch any o’ them long eels, Mester
Jacob?†said a familiar voice; and, starting and looking
back, I saw that Gentles, the fat little grinder, was
sitting down close to his wet grindstone eating his
dinner, and cutting it with a newly ground knife blade
forged out of our new steel.
“Hels; Gentles!†I said. “I didn’t know there were
any there.â€
“ Oh, but there are,†he said; “straange big’uns. You
set a line with a big bait on, and you'll soon hev one.â€
“What, down there by the wheel?â€
“Ay, or oop? the dam. Plenty o’ eels, lad, theer.â€
“Tl have a try,†I said eagerly, for the idea of catch-
ing one or two of the creatures was attractive.
From that I got talking to the man about his work,
and he promised to let me have a few turns at grinding.
“On’y, what am I to say if thee coots theesen?†he
cried with a chuckle.
“Oh, but you'll show me how to do it without!†I
said laughing.
“Nay, but what’s good o’ thee wanting to grind?
Want to tak’ work out 0’ poor men’s hands?â€
“Nonsense!†I cried angrily. “Why, Gentles, you
know better than that. All I want is to understand
thoroughly how it is done, so that I can talk to the
132 A TRAMPLED DOWN WORKMAN.
men about their work, and show them if it isn’t
right.â€
“Oh!†he said in a curious tone of voice. “ Well,
you coom any time when watter-wheel’s going, and
T’ll show thee all that I know. “Tain’t much. Keeps
men fro’ starving.â€
“Why, Gentles,†I cried; “you drew three pounds
five last week, and I saw you paid.â€
“Three pun’ five! Did 1?†he said. “Ah, but that
was a particlar good week. Ive got a missus and a
lot o’ bairns to keep, and times is very bad, mester.â€
“Tm sorry for it,†I said; and I went away and had
a look in the books as soon as I reached the office, to
find that Master Gentles never drew less than three
pounds a week; but I did not remind him of it, and
during the next few days he very civilly showed me
how his work was done—that is, the knack of holding
and turning the blades, so that I rapidly acquired the
way, and was too busy to notice the peculiar looks I
received from the other men.
Of course I know how that I was a mere buneler,
and clumsy, and slow in the extreme; but at the time
I felt as if I must be very clever, and there was some-
thing very satisfactory in seeing a blackened hammered
blade fresh from the forge turn bright and clean in my
hands, while the edge grew sharp and even.
It was playing with edged tools with a vengeance,
but I did not understand it then.
CHAPTER XII
PANNELL’S SECRET,
VERY day the works grew more busy, and
prosperity seemed to be coming upon us
like sunshine. The men worked steadily
and well, and the old opposition had appa-
rently died out; but all the same the watching was kept
up as regularly as if it was during war time, though,
saving an occasional burst of barking from Piter, who
used to have these fits apparently without cause, there
was nothing to alarm the watchers.
It was my turn at home, and I was up early the
next morning, wondering how Uncle Jack and Uncle
Bob had got on during the night, when I came down
and found Mrs. Stephenson and Martha the maid en-
joying themselves.
Their way of enjoying themselves was peculiar, but
that it afforded them pleasure there could be no doubt.
It might have been considered a religious ceremony,
but though there was a kind of worship or adoration
about it, there was nothing religious in the matter at
all.
What they did was this:—To mix up a certain
quantity of black-lead in a little pie-dish, and then
kneel down before a stove, and work and slave at it
till there was a tremendous gloss all over the iron.
In effecting this Mrs. Stephenson used to get a little
134 UNCLE JACK IS EXCITED.
smudgy, but Martha seemed to have an itching nose
which always itched most on these occasions, and as you
watched her you saw her give six scrubs at the grate
with the front of the brush, and then one rub with
the back on her face or nose.
This act must have been pleasant, for as she bent
down and scrubbed she frowned, as she sat up and
rubbed her nose with the back of the brush she
smiled.
Now if Martha had confined her rubs to her nose it
would not have much mattered, but in rubbing her
nose she also rubbed her cheeks, her chin, her forehead,
and the consequence was a great waste of black-lead,
and her personal appearance was not improved.
I was standing watching the black-leading business,
an affection from which most north-country people
suffer very badly, when Uncle Jack came hurrying in,
looking hot and excited.
“ Where’s Dick?†he cried.
“Jn his room drawing plans,†I cried. “ What's the
matter? Is Uncle Bob hurt?â€
“No, not a bit!â€
«Then Piter is?â€
“No, no, no. Here, Dick!†he shouted up the stairs.
There was a sound on the upper floor as if some one
had just woke an elephant, and Uncle Dick came lum-
bering down.
“ What's wrong?†he cried.
Uncle Jack glanced round and saw that Mrs. Ste-
phenson was looking up from where she knelt in the
front room, with her eyes and mouth wide open as the
door, and Martha was slowly rubbing her nose with the
black-lead brush and waiting for him to speak.
“Put on your hat and come down to the works,†he
said.
We moved by one impulse into the pa.sage, and as
we reached the door Mrs. Stephenson cried:
GETTING WORSE. 135
“Brackfass won’t be long;†and then the sound of
black-leading went on.
“Now, then,†said Uncle Dick as we reached the
street, “what is it? Anything very wrong?â€
“Terribly,†said Uncle Jack.
“Well, what is it? Why don’t you speak?â€
“Come and see for yourself,†said Uncle Jack bitterly.
“I thought matters were smoothing down, but they
are getting worse, and I feel sometimes that we might
as well give up as carry on this unequal war.â€
“No: don’t give up, Uncle Jack,’ I cried. “Lets
ficht the cowards.â€
“Bring them into the yard then so that we can fight
them,†he cried angrily. “The cowardly back-stabbers;
sneaks in the dark. I couldn’t have believed that such
things could go on in England.â€
«Well, but we had heard something about what the
Arrowfield men could do, and we knew about how in
the Lancashire district the work-people used to smash
new machinery.â€
“There, wait till you’ve seen what has happened,â€
evied Uncle Jack angrily. “You've just risen after a
night’s rest. I’ve come to you after a night's watch-
ing, and you and I feel differently about the same
thing.â€
Very little more was said before we reached the
works, where the first thing I saw was a group of men
round the gate, talking together with their hands in
their pockets.
Gentles was among them, smoking a short black
pipe, and he shut his eyes at me as we passed, which
was his way of bestowing upon me a smile.
When we passed through the gate the men followed
as if we were a set of doctors about to put something
right for them, and as if they had been waiting for us
to come.
Uncle Bob was standing by the door as we came
136 OUR BANDS.
across the yard, and as soon as we reached him he
turned in and we followed.
There was no occasion for him to speak; he just
walked along the great workshop, pointing to right
and left, and we saw at once why the men were idling
about.
Few people who read this will have any difficulty in
understanding what wheel-bands are. ‘They used to
be very common in the streets, joming the wheels of
the knife-grinders’ barrows, and now in almost every
house they are seen in the domestic treadle sewing-
machine. Similar to these, but varying in size, are
the bands in a factory. They may be broad flat
leather straps of great weight and size, formed by
sewing many lengths together, or they may be string-
like cords of twisted catgut. They all come under the
same name, and there were scores in our works con-
necting the shaft wheels of the main shaft turned by
the water- -power with the erindstones of the lower
floor and the lathes and polishers of the upper. By
these connections wheel, stone, and chuck were set
spinning round. Without them everything was at a
stand-still.
As we walked down between the grindstones it was
plain enough to see—every wheel-band had been cut.
It was the same upstairs—broad bands and cords all
had been divided with a sharp knife, and Uncle Bob
held a piece of whetstone in his hand which had been
thrown down by the door, evidently after being used
by the miscreant who had done this cowardly trick.
As we went upstairs and saw the mischief there the
men followed us like a flock of sheep, waiting to see
what we should do, for they were perforce idle. Only
the smiths could work, for by accident or oversight
the band which connected the shaft with the blowing
apparatus had escaped, and as we stood there by the
oftice door we could hear the clink clink of the ham-
WE RECEIVE A MESSAGE. 137
mers upon the anvils and the pleasant roar of each
forge.
“Hallo! What's this?†cried Uncle Jack as he caught
sight of something white on the office door, which
proved to be a letter stuck on there by a common
wooden-handled shoemakers’ knife having been driven
right through it.
“T did not see that before,†said Uncle Bob excitedly.
“No, because it was not there,†said Uncle Jack.
“T should have seen it if it had been there when I
came out of the office first.â€
“And J am sure that I should have seen it,’ said
Uncle Bob.
The letter was opened and read by Uncle Jack, who
passed it on to his brothers.
They read it in turn, and it was handed to me, when
I read as follows:
“This hear’s the nif as coot them weel-bans. Stope
makkin noo kine steel, or be strang and bad for wurks.â€
“Come in the office and let’s talk it over,†said Uncle
Bob. “This must have been placed here by someone
in the works.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack bitterly. “It is plain enough:
the wheel-bands have been cut by one of the men who
get their living by us, and who take our pay.â€
“And you see the scoundrel who wrote that letter
threatens worse treatment if we do not give up making
the new silver steel.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack sternly as he turned to
Uncle Dick; “what do you mean to do?â€
“ Begin a fresh batch to-day, and let the men know
it is being done. Here, let’s show them that we can
be as obstinate as they.†Then aloud as we approached
the men where they had grouped together, talking
about the “cooten bands,†as they termed it. “You
138 A CRUEL SHAME.
go at once to the machinist’s and get a couple of men
sent on to repair such of these bands as they can, and
put new ones where they are shortened too much by
the mending.â€
Uncle Bob smiled at once.
“Look here,†said Uncle Dick sharply, “some of you
men can make shift by tying or binding your bands
till they are properly done.â€
“Ay, mester,’ came in a growl, and shortly after the
sound of steel being ground upon the sharply-spinning
stones was heard. An hour later a couple of men were
fitting bands to some of the wheels, and mending others
by lacing them together.
‘I was standing watching them as they fitted a new
band to Gentles’ wheel, while he stood with his bared
arms folded, very eager to begin work again.
“ Ain’t it a cruel shaiime?†he whispered. “Here’s me,
a poor chap paid by the piece, and this morning half
gone as you may say. This job’s a couple o’ loaves out
o my house.â€
He wiped a tear out of the corner of each half-closed
eye as he stared at me in a miserable helpless kind of
way, and somehow he made me feel so annoyed with
him that I felt as if I should like to slap his fat face
and then kick him.
I went away very much exasperated and glad to get
out of the reach of temptation, leaving my uncles busily
superintending the fitting of the bands, and helping
where they could do anything to start a man on again
with his work. And all the time they seemed to make
very light of the trouble, caring for nothing but get-
ting the men started again.
I went down into the smithy, where Pannell was at
work, and as I entered the place he looked for a moment
from the glowing steel he was hammering into a shape,
to which it yielded as if it had been so much tough
wax, and then went on again as if I had not been there.
A FEW WORDS WITH PANNELL. 139
His kitten was a little more friendly, though, for it
ran from the brickwork of the forge, leaped on to a
bench behind me, and bounded from that on to my
back, and crept to my shoulder, where it could rub its
head against my ear.
“Well, Pannell,†I said, “you've heard about the
cowardly trick done in the shops?â€
“Ay, I heered on’t,’ he eried, as he battered away
at the steel on his anvil.
“Who did it?â€
“Did it!†he cried, nipping the cherry-red steel in a
fresh place and thrusting it back in the fire. “Don’t
they know? Didn’t they hear in the night?â€
“No,†I said; ey ace d nothing, not a sound,
The dog did not even bark , they say.â€
“Would he bite a man hard?â€
“He'd almost eat a man if he attacked him.â€
“ Ay, he looks it,’ said Pannell, patting the black
coal-dust down over a glowing spot.
“Well, who do you think did it?†I said.
“Someone as come over the wall, I s’pose; but you'd
better not talk about it.â€
“But I like to talk about it,†I said. “Oh, I
should like to find out who it was! It was someone
here.â€
“Here!†he cried, whisking out the steel.
«Yes, the sneaking, blackguardly, cowardly hound!â€
I cried.
‘ Hush!†he whispered sharply; “some one may hear
again,â€
I stared at the great swaithy fellow, for he looked
sallow and scared, and it seemed so str ange to me that,
while I only felt annoyance, he should be alarmed.
“Why, Pannell,†I cried, “ what's the matter?â€
‘Best keep a still tongue,†he said in a whisper.
“You never know who may hear you.â€
“T don’t care who hears me. It was a coward and
140 ABOUT STABS IN THE DARK.
a scoundrel who cut our bands, and I should like to
tell him so to his face.â€
“Howd thee tongue, I say,†he cried, hammering
away at his anvil, to drown my words in noise. “What
did I tell thee?â€
“That some one might hear me. Well, let him. Why,
Pannell, you look as if you had done it yourself. It
wasn't you, was it?â€
He turned upon me quite fiercely, hammer in hand,
making me think about Wat Tyler and the tax-
gatherer; but he did not strike me: he brought his
hammer down upon the anvil with a loud clang.
“Nay,†he said; “I nivver touched no bands. It
warn’t my wuck.â€
“Well, I never thought it was,†I said. “You don’t
look the sort of man who would be a coward.â€
“ Oh, that’s what you think, is it, lad?â€
“Yes,†I said,seating myself on the bench and stroking
the kitten. “A blacksmith always seems to me to be
a bold manly straightforward man, who would fight
his enemy fairly face to face, and not go in the dark
and stab him.â€
“Ah!†he said; “but I arn’t a blacksmith, ’m a
whitesmith, and work in steel.â€
“Tt’s much the same,†I said thoughtfully; and then,
looking him full in the face: “No, Pannell, I don’t
think you cut the bands, but I feel pretty sure you
know who did.â€
The man’s jaw dropped, and he looked quite paralysed
for a moment or two. Then half recovering himself
he plunged his tongs into the fire, pulled out a sput-
tering white piece of glowing steel, gave it his regular
whirl through the air like a firework, and, instead of
banging it on to the anvil, plunged it with a fierce
toss into the iron water-trough, and quenched it.
“Why, Pannell!†I cried, “what made you do that?â€
He scratched his head with the hand that held the
MITH,
NELL THE §
A TALK WITH PAN
DIVIDED OPINIONS. 141
hammer, and stared at me for a few moments, and
then down at the black steel that he had taken drip-
ping from the trough.
“ Dunno,†he said hoarsely, “dunno, lad.â€
“T do,†I said to myself as I set down the kitten and
went back to join my uncles, who were in consultation
in the office.
They stopped short as I entered, and Uncle Bob
turned tome. “ Well, Philosopher Cob,†he said, “ what
do yousay? Who did this cowardly act—was it some-
one in the neighbourhood, or one of our own men?â€
“Yes, who was it?†said Uncle Dick.
“We are all divided in our opinions,†said Uncle
Jack.
“One of our own men,†I said; “and Pannell the
smith knows who it was.â€
“ And will he tell?â€
“No. I think the men are like schoolboys in that.
No one would speak for fear of being thought a
sneak.â€
“ Yes,†said Unele Dick, “and not only that; in these
trades-unions the men are all bound together, as it
were, and the one who betrayed the others’ secrets
would be in peril of his life.â€
“ How are we to find out who is the scoundrel?†I
said.
Uncle Dick shook his head, and did what he always
found to be the most satisfactory thing in these cases,
set to work as hard as he could, and Uneles Jack and
Bob followed his example.
CHAPTER XIIL
ONLY A GLASS OF WATER.
HE keeping watch of a night had now grown
into a regular business habit, and though we
discovered nothing, the fecline was always
upon us that if we relaxed our watchful-
ness for a few hours something would happen.
The paper stuck on the door was not forgotten by
my uncles, but the men went on just as usual, and the
workshops were as busy as ever, and after a good deal
of drawing and experimenting Uncle Dick or Uncle
Jack kept producing designs for knives or tools to be
worked up out of the new steel.
“ But,†said I one day, “I don’t see that this reap-
ing-hook will be any better than the old-fashioned
one.
“The steel is better and will keep sharp longer, my
lad, but people would not believe that it was in the
slightest degree different, unless they had something
to see,†said Uncle Dick.
So the men were set to forge and grind the different
shaped tools and implements that were designed, and
I often heard them laughing and jeering at what they
called the “contrapshions.â€
My turn came round to keep the morning watch
about a week after the new bands had been fitted.
Uncle Bob had been on guard during the night, and
DROWSY WORK. 143
just as I was comfortably dreaming of a pleasant
country excursion I was awakened by a cheery,
“Tumble up, Tumble up!â€
I sat up confused and drowsy, but that soon passed
off as Uncle Bob laughingly told me, in sham nautical
parlance, that all was well on deck; weather hazy,
and no rocks ahead as far as he knew.
“Oh,†I said yawning, “I do wish all this watching
was over!â€
“So do I, Cob,†he cried; “but never mind, we shall
tire the rascals out yet.â€
I thought to myself that they would tire us out
first, as I went down grumpily and disposed to shiver;
and then, to thoroughly waken and warm myself, I
had a good trot round the big furnace, where the men
had tried to fire the powder.
It was circus-horse sort of work that running round
on the black ashes and iron scales, but it warmed me,
and as the miserable shivery feeling went off I felt
brighter and more ready for my task.
Piter was with me trotting close behind, as I ran
round and round; and when at last I was pretty well
out of breath I sat down on a bench, and took the
(log’s fore-paws on my knees, as I thought about how
different my life here seemed from what I had ex-
pected. There had been some unpleasant adventures,
and a good deal of work, but otherwise my daily career
seemed to be very monotonous, and I wondered when
our old country trips were to be renewed.
Then I had a good look round the place upstairs
and down; and, so sure ag I passed an open window, I
felt about with my hands for wires, the memory of
that powder-tin being too vivid to be forgotten.
I went and listened by the office door, and could
hear my uncle breathing heavily.
I went and looked out at the dam, which was always
worth looking at for its reflections of the heavens, but
144 NIGHT IN THE WORKS.
it was perfectly still. There was no raft gliding down
towards the building.
Down in the grinders’ shop all was still, and in the
darkness the different shafts and wheels looked very
curious and threatening, so much so that it only wanted
a little imagination for one to think that this was some
terrible torture chamber, the door at the end leading
into the place where the water torment was adminis-
tered, for the curious musical dripping and plashine
sounded very thrilling and strange in the solemnity of
the night.
That place always attracted me, and though there in
the darkness I did not care to open the door and look
down at the black water, I went and listened, and as
I did so it seemed that there was something going on
there. Every now and then came a splash, and then
a hurrying as of something being drawn over wet
bars of wood. Then there were a series of soft thuds
at irregular intervals, and as I listened all this was
magnified by imagination, and I was ready to go and
call for Uncle Bob to descend when a faint squeaking
noise brought me to my senses and I laughed.
“Why, Piter,’ I said, “what a dog you are! Don’t
you hear the rats?â€
Piter rubbed his great head against me and whined
softly.
“Don’t care for rats?†I said. “All right, old fellow.
I forgot that you were a bull-dog and did not care for
anything smaller than a bull, unless it were a man.â€
I stood listening for a few minutes longer, wondering
whether some of the sounds I could hear down by the
stonework were made by eels, and, recalling what
Gentles had said, I determined that some evening I
would have a try for the slimy fellows either down
below the great water-wheel or out of the office-window,
where I could drop a line into the deepest part of the
dam.
A CURIOUS FIT. 145
Then I went into the smiths’ shops and thought about
how sulky Pannell had been ever since I had talked to
him about the wheel-bands.
“This won’t do, Piter,’ I said, trying to rouse myself,
for I was dreadfully sleepy; and I had another trot
with the dog after me in his solid, silent way—for he
rarely barked unless it was in anger—but trotted close
behind me wherever I might go.
I cannot tell you what a fight I had that night—for
it was more like night than morning. I walked fast;
I tried all sorts of gymnastic attitudes; I leaped up,
caught hold of an iron bar and swung by my arms, and
whenever I did these things I grew as lively as a
cricket; but as soon as, from utter weariness, I ceased,
the horrible drowsiness came on again, and as I walked
I actually dreamed that there was a man creeping
along the ground towards the buildine.
This seemed to wake me, and it was so real that I
went out to see—nothing.
Then I had another tour of the place; stood leaning
against door-posts, and up in corners, ready to drop
down with sleep, but fighting it off again.
I went out across the yard and had a look at the
dam, lay down on the stone edge, and bathed my face
with the fresh cold water, turned my handkerchief
into a towel, and walked back in the dim, gray light,
seeing that morning was breaking, and beginning to
rejoice that I had got rid of my drowsy fit, which
seemed unaccountable.
Piter seemed as drowsy as I, holding his head down
2 a heavy way as if it were more than he could
ear.
“Poor old boy! Why, you seem as sleepy as I am,
Piter!†T said, as I seated myself on the stairs leading
up to the office; and he whined softly and laid his
head in my lap.
I thought T heard a noise just then, and looked up,
(322) K
146 DREAMY FANCIES.
but there was no repetition of the sound, and I sat
there at a turn of the stairs, leaning against the wall,
and wondering why the dog had not started up instead
of letting his heavy head drop lower in my lap.
“Why, you are as drowsy as I am, Piter,’ I cried
again, playing with his ears; “anyone would think
you had been taking a sleeping draught or something
of that kind.â€
He answered with a heavy snore, just like a human
being, and I sat gazing down and out through the
open doorway into the yard, thinking that it would
not be long now before it was broad daylight instead
of that half darkness that seemed so strange and misty
that I could only just see through the doorway and
distineuish the stones.
Then I could hardly see them at all, and then they
seemed to disappear, and I could see all over the yard,
and the dam and the works all at once. It was a
wonderful power of sight that I seemed to possess, for
I was looking through the walls of the upper shop, and
all through the lower shop, and down into the water-
pit. Then I was looking round the furnace, and in at
the smiths’ forges, and at the great chimney-shaft, and
at the precipice by Dome Tor.
What a place that seemed! Since my uncle slipped
over it the slaty, shaly face appeared to have grown
twice as big and high, and over it and down the steep
slope a man was crawling right in from the Dome Tor
slip to our works. I saw him come along the stone
edge of the dam and over the wheel with the water, to
bob up and down in the black pit like a cork float
when an eel is biting at a bait. There he went—bob—
bob—bob—and down out of sight.
It seemed such a splendid bite, that, being fond of
fishing, I was about to strike, the absurdity of the idea
of fishing with a man for a float never striking me for
a moment; but, jast as I was going to pull up, the
THE AWAKING. 147
man was crawling over the floor of the grinders’ shop,
and the water was not there, though the wheel seemed
to be going round and uttering a heavy groan at every
turn for want of grease.
There he was again, creeping and writhing up the
stairs, and higher and higher along the floor among
the lathes; then he was in the office, and over the bed
where Uncle Bob lay making a snoring noise like the
great water-wheel as it turned. What a curiously-long,
thin, writhing man he seemed to be as he crawled and
wriggled all over the floor and lathes and polishine-
wheels. Down, too, into the smiths’ shops, and over
the half-extinct fires without burning himself, and all
the time the wheel went round with its snoring noise,
and the man—who was really a big eel—was ringing
a loud bell, and—
I jumped up wide awake, upsetting Piter, and
throwing his head out of my lap, when, instead of
springing up, he rolled heavily half-way down the
stairs as 1f he were dead.
“Why, I’ve been to sleep,†I said angrily to myself,
“and dreaming all sorts of absurd nonsense! That
comes of thinking about fishing for eels.â€
I was cold and stiff, and there was a bell ringing in
the distance at some works, where the men began an
hour sooner than ours. But I took no notice of that,
for I was thinking about Piter, and wondering how
he could lie so still.
“Ts he dead?†I thought; and I went down and felt
him.
He-did not move; but it was evident that he was
not dead, for he snored heavily, and felt warm enough;
but he was too fast asleep to be roused, even when I
took hold of his collar and shook him.
I was puzzled, and wondered whether he could have
had anything to make him so sleepy.
But if he had had anything to make him sleepy I
148 THAT WATER-BOTILE!
had not, and yet I must have been soundly asleep for
two or three hours.
I remembered, though, that when I last went round
the yard Piter had been sniffing about at something,
and perhaps he might have eaten what had not agreed
with him then.
“Poor old boy! he'll wake up presently,†I said to
myself as I lifted him up; and heavy enough he seemed
as I carried him down to his kennel, just inside the
door, where he lay motionless, snoring heavily still.
“Lucky thing that no one has been,†I said to my-
self, as, feeling thoroughly ashamed of my breach of
trust, | went down to the dam, taking a towel with
ame this time from out of my oflice-drawer, and there,
kneeling on the stones, I had a good bathe at my face
and forehead, and went back feeling ever so much
fresher.
The sounds of toil were rising in the distance, and
over the great town the throb and hum and whirr of
the busy hive was rising in the sunny morning air, as,
with the events of the night fading away, 1 went in to
my office to put away the towel and use the comb and
brush I kept there.
That done, I was going to call Uncle Bob and walk
back with him to our home, for the men would soon be
there.
Just then the water-bottle and glass upon my desk
caught my eye, and, like a flash, I remembered that I
had filled the glass and drunk a little water, leaving
the glass nearly full so as to take some more if I wanted
it, for a class of water was, I found, a capital thing to
keep off drowsiness when one was watching.
Twas sure I had left that glass nearly full, and stand-
ing on the desk; but I had not been and drunk any
more, of that I was sure. I don’t know why I had not
gone back to have some, considering how sleepy I was,
but I certainly had not. I was sure of it.
A PATCH ON THE CARPET. 149
Then the water-bottle! It was a common plain
bottle such as is used on a wash-stand, and we had
three of them always filled with fresh cold water on
the desks. Mine was full when I poured some out in
the night, and now it was quite empty; and as I stared
at it and then about the room I saw a great patch of
wet on the carpet.
I looked farther and there was another patch—a
smaller patch or big splash, as if the contents of the
glass had been thrown down.
It was very strange, and I could not understand it,
I had not thrown the water down. If I had wanted to
get rid of it, I should have gone to the sink outside or
have opened the window, and thrown it out into the
dam.
The matter was of small consequence, and I paid no
more attention to it, but went to Uncle Bob, where he
was lying, fighting with myself as to whether I should
tell him that I had been to sleep.
I did not like to speak, for I felt—well I felt as most
boys would under the circumstances; but I mastered
my moral cowardice, as I thought, and determined to
tell him—after breakfast.
“Ah Cob, old chap,†he cried, Jumping up as I laid
my hand on his shoulder, “what a delicious sleep }
What a morning too—Hah! That's better.â€
He was dressed, for though whoever lay down, so to
speak, went to bed, he never undressed ; 80 that after a
plunge of the face and hands in the cool fresh water,
and a scrub and brush, Uncle Bob was ready,
“T want my breakfast horribly, Cob,†he said; “and
we've an hour to wait. Let’s have a walk round by the
hill as we go home. Have you unlocked the gate?â€
“Yes,†I said; “before I came up to call you.â€
“That’s right. Ah, here the men come!†for there was
the trampling of feet, and the noise of voices crossing
the yard. “Fed Piter?â€
150 TAKEN TO TASK.
“No; not yet,†I said. “He’s asleep.â€
“Asleep!â€
“Yes; he has been asleep these three hours past—
asleep and snoring. He’s in his kennel now. I couldn't
wake him.â€
“Nice sort of a watch-dog, Cob!â€
“Yes,†I said, feeling very guilty and shrinking from
my confession.
“Do you say you tried to wake him?â€
“Ves,†I said, “I took him up in my arms, and carried
him down to his kennel, and he was snoring all the
time.â€
“Carried him down! Where from?â€
“The stairs. He went to sleep there.â€
“Cob!†he cried, making the blood flush to my face,
and then run back to my heart—“why, what's the
matter, boy, aren’t you well?â€
“My head aches a little, and my mouth feels rather
hot and dry.â€
“And you've got dark marks under your eyes, boy.
You've not been asleep too, have you?â€
I stared at him wildly, and felt far more unwell now.
“Why don’t you speak?†he cried angrily. “You
haven't been to sleep, have you?â€
“J was going to confess it, uncle, if you had given me
time,†I said. “I never did such a thine before; but 1
couldn't keep awake, and fell asleep for over two
hours.â€
“Oh, Cob! Cob!â€
“JT couldn't help it, uncle,†I eried passionately. “T
did try so hard. I walked and ran about. I stood up,
and danced and jumped, and went in the yard, but it
was all of no use, and at last I dropped down on the
stairs with Piter, and before I knew it I was fast.â€
“Was the dog asleep too?â€
“He went to sleep before I did,†I said bitterly.
“Humph!â€
GENTLES MAKES AN ANNOUNCEMENT. 151
“Don’t be angry with me, Uncle Bob,†I cried. «I
did try so hard.â€
“Did you take anything last night after I left you?â€
“No, uncle. You know I was very sleepy when you
called me.â€
“Nothing at all?â€
“Only a drop of water out of the bottle.â€
“Go and fetch what is left,†he said. “Or no, I'll
come. But Piter; what did he have?â€
“I don’t know, only that he seemed to pick up some-
thing just as we were walking along the yard. That's
all.â€
“There’s some fresh mischief afoot, Cob,†cried Uncle
Bob, “and—ah, here it is! Well, my man, what is it?â€
This was to Gentles, whose smooth fat face was full
of wrinkles, and his eyes half closed.
He took off his cap—a soft fur cap, and wrung it
gently as if it were full of water. Then he began
shaking it out, and brushing it with his euff, and
looked from one to the other, giving me a salute by
jerking up one elbow.
“Well, why don’t you speak, man; what is it?†cried
Uncle Bob. “Is anything wrong?â€
“No, mester, there aren’t nought wrong, as you may
say, though happen you may think it is. Wheel-bands
hev been touched again.â€
CHAPTER XIV.
UNCLE BOB’S PATIENT,
# NCLE BOB gave me a sharp look that
, seemed to go through me, and then strode
into the workshop, while I followed him
trembling with anger and misery, to think
that I should have gone to sleep at sucha time and let
the miscreants annoy us again like this.
“Not cut this time,’ said Uncle Bob to me, as we
went from lathe to lathe, and from to stone. Upstairs
and downstairs it was all the same; every band of
leather, gutta-percha, catgut, had been taken away, and,
of course, the whole of this portion of the works would
be brought to a stand.
I felt as if stunned, and as euilty as if I had shared
in the plot by which the bands had been taken away.
The men were standing about stolidly watching us.
They did not complain about their work being at a
stand-still, nor seem to mind that, as they were paid
by the amount they did, they would come short at the
end of the week: all they scemed interested in was the
way in which we were going to bear the loss, or act.
“Does not look like a walk for us, Cob,†said Uncle
Bob. “What a cruel shame it is!â€
“Unele,†I cried passionately, for we were alone now,
“I can’t tell you how ashamed I am. It’s disgraceful.
I'm not fit to be trusted. I can never forgive myself,
but I did try so very very hard.â€
DRUGGED. 153
“Try, my boy!†he said taking my hand; “why, of
course, you did. I haven’t blamed you.â€
“No, but I blame myself,†I cried.
“Nonsense, my boy! let that rest.â€
“But if I had kept awake I should have detected
the scoundrel.â€
“No, you would not, Cob, because if you had been
awake he would not have come; your being asleep was
his opportunity.â€
“But I ought not, being on sentry, to have gone to
sleep.â€
“But, my dear Cob, people who are drugged cannot
help going to sleep.â€
“ Drugeed!â€
“To be sure. Didn’t you say that you drank a little
water and afterwards crew sleepy?â€
“But I did not know it was the water.â€
“Here, let me look at your bottle and glass.â€
I took him into the office and showed him the empty
receptacles and the two patches on the floor.
“Clumsily done, Cob,†he said after looking at and
smelling them. “This was done to keep anyone sus-
picious from examining the water. Yes, Cob, you were
drugged.â€
“Oh, Uncle Bob,’ I eried excitedly, “I hope I
was!â€
“TI don’t see why you need be so hopeful, but it is
very evident that you were. There, don’t worry your-
self about it, my boy. You always do your duty and
we've plenty to think of without that. We shall spoil
two breakfasts at home.â€
“But, uncle,’ I cried, clinging to his arm, “do you
really think I may believe that my sleepiness came
from being drugged?â€
“Yes, yes, yes,†he cried half angrily. “Now are
you satisfied? Come and let’s have a look at the dog.â€
I felt quite guilty at having forgotten poor Piter so
ROIN DIFFICULTLES,
Aue my uncle we were soon
red since I put him in, but lay snoring
i und no Se ane of shaking peeiicd to have the
x “Oh, cal i 4 aha for his words sent a pang
through me. I did not know how much I had grown
ie faithful piece of ugliness till my uncle had
as he did.
“Yes, the wretches have almost done for him, and
Tm glad of it.â€
“Glad!†I eried as I lifted poor Piter’s head in my
hand and stroked it.
“Glad it was that which made the poor brute silent.
I thought he had turned useless through his not givine
the alarm.â€
“Can’t we do something, uncle?†I cried.
“I'm thinking, Cob,†he replied, “it's not an easy
thing to give dogs antidotes, and besides we don’t know
what he has taken. Must be some narcotic though.
I know what we'll do. Here, carry him down to the
dam.â€
A number of the workmen were looking on stolidly
arid whispering to one another as if interested in what
we were going to do about the dog. Some were in the
ard smoking, some on the stairs, and every man’s
$ were deep in his pockets.
y, shouted a voice as I carried the dog out into
ard, following Uncle Bob while the men made room
they’re re a goin’ to drown bull poop.’
[ hurried on after my uncle and heard a trampling
& behind me, but I took no notice, only as I
‘hed the dam there was quite a little crowd closing
olf
UNCLE BOB SPEAKS. 155
“Wayert a minute, mester,†said one of the grinders.
“Tl get ’ee bit o’ iron and a bit o’ band to tie round
poop’s neck.â€
For answer, Uncle Bob took the dog by his collar
and hind legs, and kneeling down on the stone edge of
the dam plunged him head first into the water, drew
him out, and plunged him in again twice.
“Yow can’t drownd him liak that,†cried one.
“He’s dowsing on him to bring him round,†said
another; and then, as Uncle Bob laid the dog down
and stood up to watch him, there was a burst of
laughter in the little crowd, for all our men were
collected now.
“Yes, laugh away, you cowardly hounds,†said Uncle
Bob indignantly, and I looked at him wonderingly, for
he had always before seemed to be so quiet and good-
tempered a fellow. “It’s a pity, I suppose, that you
did not kill the dog right out the same as, but for a
lucky accident, you might have poisoned this boy here.â€
“Who poisoned lad?†said a grinder whom I had
seen insolent more than once.
“T don’t know,†cried Uncle Bob; “but I know it
was done by the man or men who stole those bands
last night; and I know that it was done by someone
in these works, and that you nearly all of you know
who it was.â€
There was a low growl here.
“And a nice cowardly contemptible trick it was!â€
eried Uncle Bob, standing up taller than any man
there, and with his eyes flashing. “J always thought
Englishmen were plucky, straightforward fellows,
above such blackguards’ tricks as these. Workmen!
Why, the scoundrels who did this are unworthy of the
name.â€
There was another menacing growl here.
“Too cowardly to fight men openly, they come in
the night and strike at boys, and dogs, and steal.â€
156 THREATENINGS.
“Yow lookye here,†said the big grinder, taking off
his jacket and baring his strong arms; “ yow called me
a coward, did you?â€
“Yes, and any of you who know who did this
coward’s trick,†cried Uncle Bob angrily.
“Then tek that!†cried the man, striking at him full
in the face. ;
I saw Unele Bob catch the blow on his right arm,
dart out his left and strike the big grinder in the
mouth; and then, before he could recover himself, my
uncle’s right fist flashed through the air like lightning,
and the man staggered and then fell with a dull thud,
the back of his head striking the stones.
There was a loud yell at this, and a chorus rose:
“Tn wi ’em. Throost’em i’ th’ dam,†shouted a voice,
and half a dozen men advanced menacingly; but Uncle
Bob stood firm, and just then Pannell the smith strode
before them.
“Howd hard theer,†he cried in his shrill voice. “Six
to one, and him one o’ the mesters.â€
Just then Uncles Jack and Dick strode in through
the gates, saw the situation at a glance, and ran to
strengthen our side.
“What's this?†roared Uncle Dick furiously, as
Uncle Jack clenched his fists and looked round, as it
seemed to me, for some one to knock down. “In to
your work, every man of you.â€
“Bands is gone,†said a sneering voice.
“Then get off our premises, you dogs!†he roared.
“Out of that gate, I say, every man who is against us.â€
“Oh, we're not agen you, mester,†said Gentles
smoothly. “Tm ready for wuck, on’y the bands is
gone. Yow mean wuck, eh, mates?â€
“Then go and wait till we have seen what is to be
done. Do you hear?—go.â€
He advanced on the men so fiercely that they backed
from him, leaving Pannell only, and he stooped to help
ANOTHER PLUNGE FOR PITER. 157
up the big grinder, who rose to his feet shaking his
head like a dog does to get the water out of his ears,
for there must have been a loud singing noise there.
“Off with you!†said Uncle Dick turning upon these
two.
“Aw veight, mester,†said Pannell. “I were on’y
helping the mate. Mester Robert there did gie him a
blob.â€
Pannell was laughing good-humouredly, and just
then Uncle Bob turned upon hin.
“Thank you, Pannell,†he said quickly. “Tm glad
we have one true man in the place.â€
“Oh, it’s aw reight, mester,†said the smith. “Here,
coom along, thou’st had anew to last thee these two
months.â€
As he spoke he half dragged the big grinder away
to the workshop, and Uncle Bob rapidly explained the
state of affairs.
“It’s enough to make us give up,†eried Uncle Dick
angrily. “We pay well; we're kind to our men; we
never overwork them; and yet they serve us these
blackguard tricks. Well, if they want to be out of
work they shall be, for Ill agree to no more bands
being bought till the scoundrels come to their senses.â€
“But we will not be beaten,†cried Uncle Jack, who
looked disappointed at there being no more fighting.
“No,†said Uncle Bob, wiping his bleeding knuckles
“I feel as if I had tasted blood, as they say, and ’m
ready to fight now to the end.â€
“And all the time we are talking and letting that
poor dog perish! The cowards!†cried Uncle Dick
fiercely. “Is he dead ?â€
“No,†I said; “I saw one of his ears quiver a little,
but he is not breathing so loudly.â€
“ Give him another plunge,†said Unele Jack.
Unele Bob took the dog as before and plunged him
once more in the cold clean water; and this time, as
158 A FRESH LETTER.
soon as he was out, he struggled slightly and choked
and panted to get his breath.
“We must get him on his legs if we can,†said Uncle
Bob; and for the next half hour he kept trying to
make the dog stand, but without avail, till he had
almost given up in despair. Then all at once poor Piter
began to whine, struggled to his feet, fell down, strug- '
gled up again, and then began rapidly to recover, and
at last followed us into the office—where, forgetful
of breakfast, we began to discuss:the present state of
the wavr.
The first thing that caught my eye as we went in
was a letter stuck in the crack of the desk, so that it
was impossible for anyone to pass without seeing it.
Uncle Jack took the letter, read it, and passed it
round, Uncle Bob reading last.
I asked what it was as I stooped over poor Piter,
who seemed stupid and confused and shivered with
the wet and cold.
“Shall I tell him?†said Uncle Bob, looking at his
brothers.
They looked at one another thoughtfully, nodded,
and Uncle Bob handed me the note; and a precious
composition it was.
“You London Cockneys,†it began, “you've had
plenty warnings ’bout your gumeracks and contrup-
shions, and wouldn't take ’em. Now look here, we
wont hev ’em wn Arrowfield, robbing hard-workiw
men of toil of their hard earns and takiw bread out 0
wife and childers mouths and starviw famlies, so look
out. If you three av that sorcy boy don't pack wp
your traps and be off, we'll come and pack ’em up for
you. So now you know.â€
“What does this mean?†I said, looking from one to
the other.
“TT MEANS WAR!†159
“It means war, my lad,†said Uncle Dick fiercely.
“You will not take any notice of this insolent
letter?†I said.
“Oh yes, but we will!†said Uncle Jack.
“Not give up and go like cowards?â€
“JT don't think we shall, Cob,†said Uncle Jack laugh-
ing. “No; were in the right and they are in the
wrong. We've got a strong tower to fight in and de-
fend ourselves; they've got to attack us here, and I
think they'll be rather badly off if they do try any-
thing more serious.â€
“This has been bad enough,†said Uncle Bob. “You
did not fully understand how narrow an escape Cob had.â€
And he related all.
“The scoundrels!†said Unele Jack, grinding his
teeth. “And now this means threatenings of future
attacks.â€
“Well,†said Unele Dick, “if they do come I’m afraid
someone will be very much hurt—more so than that
man Stevens you knocked down.â€
“And made a fresh enemy for us,†said Uncle Jack,
laughing.
“And showed who was a friend,†I said, remember-
ing Pannell’s action.
“To be sure,†said Uncle Jack. “Well, if anyone is
hurt it will be the attacking party, for I am beginning
to feel vicious.â€
“Well, what about the wheels?†said Uncle Bob.
“Every band has gone, and it will be a heavy expense
to restore them.â€
“Let’s go and have breakfast and think it over,â€
said Uncle Dick. “It’s bad to decide in haste. “Listen!
what are the men doing?â€
“Going out in the yard, evidently,†said Uncle Bob.
“Ves, and down to the gate.â€
So it proved, for five minutes later the place was
completely empty.
160 WHAT IS MACHINERY ?
“Why, they’ve forsaken us,†said Uncle Dick bitterly.
“Never mind,†said Uncle Bob. “Let’s have our
breakfast. We can lock up the place.â€
And this we did, taking poor old Piter with us, who
looked so helpless and miserable that several dogs
attacked him on our way home, anticipating an easy
victory.
But they did Piter good, rousing him up to give a
bite here and another there—one bite being all his
enemies cared to receive before rushing off, yelping
apologies for the mistake they had made in attacking
the sickly-looking heavy-eyed gentleman of their kind.
Piter had jaws like a steel trap, as others beside
- dogs found before long. ;
When we went back to the works the gatekeeper
left in charge said that several of the men had been
back, but had gone again, it having been settled that
no more work was to be done till the wheel-bands were
restored; so the fires were going out, and the smiths,
who could have gone on, had to leave their forges.
“Well,†said Uncle Dick, laughing bitterly, as he
gave his beard a sharp tug, “I thought that we were
masters here.â€
“Quite a mistake,’ said Uncle Jack; “the men are
the masters; and if we do anything that they in their
blind ignorance consider opposed to their interests they
punish us.â€
“Well, you see, sir,†said the gatekeeper, “it’s like
this here, sir—work’s quite scarce enough, and the men
are afraid that new steel or new machinery will make
it worse.â€
“Tell them to take the scales off their eyes, then,â€
said Uncle Dick. ‘Oppose machinery, do they?â€
“Yes, sir.â€
“Then if someone invented a new kind of grind-
stone to grind tools and blades in a quarter of the
time, what would they do?â€
WE PERSEVERE, 161
“Smash it, sir, or burn the place it was in,†said the
man with a erin.
“Then why don’t they smash up the grindstones
they use now? They are machinery.â€
“What! grindstones, sir? Oh, no!â€
“But they are, man, I tell you,†cried Uncle Dick
angrily. “The first men who ground knives or shears
rubbed them on a rough piece of stone; then I dare
say a cleverer man found it was handier to rub the
blade with the stone instead of the stone with the
blade; and then someone invented the round grind-
stone which turned and ground whatever was held
against it.â€
“Come along,†said Uncle Jack sharply. “You are
wasting breath. They will not believe till they find
all this out for themselves.â€
We went in and had a good look round the place,
but there was not a band to be found. There had
been no cutting—every one had been carried away,
leaving no trace behind; and I wanted a good deal of
comforting to make me satisfied that it was not my
fault.
But my uncles were very kind to me, and told me
at once that I was to say no more, only to be thankful
that I had not drunk more heartily of the water, and
been made ill as the dog, who, in spite of seeming better,
kept having what I may call relapses, and lying down
anywhere to have a fresh sleep.
The look round produced no result, and the day was
spent in the silent works writing letters, book-keeping,
and talking rather despondently about the future.
It seemed so strange to me as I went about. No
roaring fires and puffing bellows; no clink of hammer
or anvil, and no churr and screech of steel being held
against the revolving stones. There was no buzz of
voices or shouting from end to end of the workshop,
and instead of great volumes of smoke rolling out of
(822) L
162 WAITING.
the top of the tall chimney-shaft, a little faint gray
cloud slowly curled away into the air.
Then there was the great wheel. The dam was full
and overflowing, but the wheel was still; and when I
looked in, the water trickled and plashed down into
the gloomy chamber with its mossy, slimy stone sides,
while the light shone in at the opening, and seemed to
make bright bands across the darkness before it played
upon the slightly agitated waters.
Then a long discussion took place, in which it was
asked whether it would be wise to buy new bands, and
to ask the men to come back and work; but opinion
was against this.
- “No,†said Unele Jack. “Dm for being as obstinate
as they are. We've had our bands injured once; now
let’s show them that if they can afford to wait so can
we. We can't, neither can they, but there must be a
little obstinacy practised, and perhaps it will bring
them to their senses.â€
“ And make them bring back our bands?†I ventured
to say.
“Ah, Pm not so hopeful about that!†cried Uncle
Bob. “I’m afraid that we shall have to buy new
ones.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Dick; “but I would not mind that
if by so doing we could get the men to behave well to
us in the future.â€
“And we never shall,†said Uncle Jack, “till Cob
here ceases to be such a tyrant. The men are afraid
of him.â€
“Why, uncle!†I exclaimed; and they all laughed at
my look of injury.
That night Uncle Jack and Uncle Dick kept watch;
next night we took our turn again, and so matters
went on for a week. Now and then we saw some of
our men idling about, but they looked at us in a heavy
stolid way, and then slouched off.
1?
GENTLES’ OPINIONS. 163
The works seemed to be very melancholy and strange,
but we went there regularly enough, and when we had
a fire going and stayed in there was no doubt about
the matter; we were watched.
Piter grew quite well again, and in his thick head
there seemed to be an idea that he had been very badly
used, for, as he walked close at my heels, I used to see
him give the workmen very ugly looks in a sidewise
fashion that I used to call measuring legs.
One morning my uncles said that they should not
go to the works that day, and as they did not seem to
want me I thought I would go back and put a project
I had in my mind in force.
Thad passed the night at the works in company with
Uncle Jack, and all had been perfectly quiet, so, putting
some bones in the basket for Piter, I also thrust in some
necessaries for the task I had in hand, and started.
About half-way there I met Gentles, the fat-faced
grinder, and he shut his eyes at me and slouched up
in his affectionate way.
“Ah! Mester Jacob,†he said, “when’s this here un-
happy strike going to end?â€
“When the rascals who stole our bands bring them
back,†I said, “and return to their work.â€
“Ah!†he sighed, “I’m afraid they wean’t do that,
my lad. Hedn’t the mesters better give in, and not
make no more nootangle stoof?â€
“Oh, that’s what you think, is it, Gentles?†I said.
“Who? Me,mester? Oh,no: I’m only a pore hard-
working chap who wants to get back to his horse. It’s
what the other men say. For my part I wishes as there
was no unions, stopping a man’s work and upsetting
him; that I do. Think the mesters’ll give in, Mester
Jacob, sir?â€
“Tm sure they will not, Gentles,†I said, “and you
had better tell the men so.â€
“Nay, I durstn’t tell ’em. Oh, dear, no, Mester
164 PANNELL IS CLOSE.
Jacob, sir. I'm a quiet peaceable man, I am. I on’y
wants to be let alone.â€
I went on, thinking, and had nearly reached the lane
by the works, when I met Pannell, who was smoking a
short black pipe.
“Hello!†he eried.
“Hello! Pannell,†I said.
“ Goin’ to open wucks, and let’s get on again, lad?â€
«Whenever you men like to bring back the bands
and apologize, Pannell.â€
“Nay, lve got nowt to ’pologize for. I did my wuck,
and on’y wanted to be let alone.â€
“But you know who took the bands,†I cried. ‘“*You
know who tried to poison our poor dog and tried to
blow up the furnace, now don’t you?â€
He showed his great teeth as he looked full at me.
“Why, my lad,†he said, “ yow don’t think I'm going
to tell, do ’ee?â€
“You ought to tell,†I cried. “I’m sure you know;
and it’s a cowardly shame.â€
« Ay, Ls’pose that’s what you think,†he said quietly.
«But, say, lad, isn’t it time wuck began again?â€
“Time! Yes,†I said. “Why don’t you take our side,
Pannell; my uncles are your masters?â€
« Ay, I know that, lad,†said the big smith quietly ;
“but man can’t do as he likes here 7? Arrowfield. Eh,
look at that!â€
“Well, mate,†said a rough voice behind me; and I
saw the smith start as Stevens, the fierce grinder, came
up, and without taking any notice of me address the
smith in a peculiar way, fixing him with his eye and
clapping him on the shoulder.
“Here, I want to speak wi’ thee,†he said sharply.
“Coom and drink.â€
Tt seemed to me that he regularly took the big smith
into custody, and marched him off.
This set me thinking about how they must be all
I GO A FISHING. 165
leagued together; but I forgot all about the matter as
I opened the gate, and Piter came charging down at
me, delighted to have company once more in the great
lonely works.
The next minute he was showing his intelligence by
smelling the basket as we walked up to the door to-
gether.
I gave him some of the contents to amuse him,
and then entering the deserted grinding shop, walked
straight to the door at the end opening into the great
wheel-pit, and throwing it back stood upon the little
platform built out, and looked down at the black water,
which received enough from the full dam to keep it in
motion and make the surface seem to be covered with
a kind of thready film that was always opening and
closing, and spreading all over the place to the very
walls.
lé looked rather black and unpleasant, and seemed
to be a place that might contain monsters of eels or
other fish, and it was to try and catch some of these
that I had taken advantage of the holiday-time and
come.
For I had several times called to mind what Gentles
had said about the fish in the dam and pit, and meant
to have a turn; but now I was here everything was so
silent and mysterious and strange, that I rather shrank
from my task, and began to wonder what I should do
if T hooked some monster too large to draw out.
“What a coward I am!†I said aloud; and taking the
stout eel-line I had brought, and baiting the two hooks
upon it with big worms, I gathered up the cord quite
ready and then made a throw, so that my bait went
down right beneath the wheel, making a strange echo-
ing splash that whispered about the slimy walls.
“Looks more horrible than ever,’ I said to myself,
as I shook off my dislike, and sat down on the little
platform with my legs dangling over the water.
166 REL THE FIRST.
But I could not quite shake off my dread, for the
feeling caine over me: suppose some horrible serpent-
like water creature were to raise its head out of the
black depths, seize me by the foot, and drag me down.
Tt was an absurd idea, but I could not fight against
it, and I found myself drawing my legs up and sitting
down tailor fashion with my feet beneath me.
And there I sat with not a sound but the dripping
water to be heard, and a curious rustling that I soon
after made out to be Piter busy with his bone.
A quarter of an hour, half an hour, passed away, and
I did not get a touch, so drawing up ny line I restored
the baits and threw in again, choosing the far-off corner
of the pit close by where the water escaped to the
stream below.
The bait had not been down a minute, and I was just
wondering whether Gentles was correct about there
being any fish there, when I felt the line softly drawn
through my fingers, then there was a slight quivering
vibration, and a series of tiny jerks, and the line began
to run faster, while my heart began to beat with antici-
pation,
“He was right,†I exclaimed, as I tightened the line
with a jerk, and then a sharp little struggle began, as
the fish I had hooked rushed hither and thither, and
fought back, and finally was dragged out of the water,
tying itself up in a knot which bobbed and slipped
about upon the floor as I dragged it into the erinding-
room, and cut the line to set it free, for it was impos-
sible to get the hook out of the writhing creature’s
jaws.
Tt was an eel of about a pound weight, and, excited
now by the struggle, I fastened on a fresh hook, baited
it, and threw in the same place again.
Quite half an hour elapsed before I had another bite,
and knowing how nocturnal these creatures are in their
habits, I was just thinking that if I liked next time I
EEL THE SECOND. 167
was on the watch I might throw a line in here, and
keep catching an eel every now and then, when—
Check! A regular sharp jerk at the line, and I
knew that I had hooked a good one, but instead of the
line tightening it suddenly grew quite slack.
For a moment I was afraid that the fish had broken
away, but I realized directly that it had rushed over
to my side of the wheel-pit, and it had come so swiftly
that I began to think that it could not be an eel.
I had not much line to gather in, though, before I
felt the check again, and a furious tug given so hard
that I let the line run, and several yards were drawn
through my fingers before I began to wonder where
the eel or other fish I had hooked had gone.
“Perhaps there is a passage or drain under the
works,†I thought as I dragged at the line, now to
feel some answering throbs; but the fish did not run
any farther, only remained stationary.
« What a monster!†I cried, as I felt what a tremen-
dous weight there was against me. I drew the line
and gained a little, but gave way for fear it should
break.
This went on for ten minutes or so. I was in a state
of the greatest excitement, for I felt that I had got hold
of a monster, and began to despair of dragging it up to
where I was. Such a thing seemed impossible, for the
line would give way or the hook break from its hold
I was sure.
In place of jerking about now, the fish was very still,
exercising a kind of inert force against its captor; but
I was in momentary expectation of a renewal of the
battle, and so powerful did the creature seem, so enor-
mously heavy was it, that I began to regret my success,
and to wonder what the consequences would be if I
were to get the large eel up there on the floor.
One moment I saw myself flying for my life from
a huge writhing open-mouthed creature, and saved by
168 HURRAH!
a gallant attack made by Piter, who, hearing the noise,
had dashed in open-jawed to seize the fierce monster
by the neck; the next I was calling myself a donkey.
“Why, of course!†I cried. “When I hooked it the
creature ran in towards me, and has darted in and out
of some grating and wound the line tightly there.â€
That could not be the case, I felt as 1 pulled, for
though it was evident that the fish had entangled the
line, if was in something loose which I got nearly to
the surface several times, as I gazed down there in
the darkness till all at once, just as I was straining my
eyes to make out what it was that was entangled with
my hook, the cord snapped, there was a dull plash below
me, the water rippled and babbled against the side, and
all was still once more.
I stood gazing down for a few minutes, and then
a flash of intelligence shot through me, and I darted
back, rapidly coiling up my wet line and taking it and
my basket up into the office, from whence I came hurry-
ing out, and ready to dash down two steps at a time.
“Why, of course,†I kept on saying to myself; “what
stupids!â€
I ran across the yard, unlocked and relocked the
gate, leaving Piter disappointed and barking, and hur-
ried back to the house, where my uncles were busy
over some correspondence.
“Hurrah!†I cried. “T’ve found it all out. Come
alone! Down to the works!â€
«You've found out!†cried Uncle Dick starting.
“Found it all out!†I cried excitedly. “Now, then,
all of you! Come on and see.â€
I slipped down to Mrs. Stephenson after tellng my
uncles to go slowly on and that I would overtake them,
and that lady smiled in my face as soon as she saw me.
“Don’t say a word!†she cried. “I know what you
want. Tattsey, get out the pork-pie.â€
“No, no,†I cried; “you mistake.. I’m not hungry.â€
I GO BORROWING. 169
“ Nonsense, my dear! and if you’re not hungry now,
you will be before long. Tve a beautiful raised pie
of my own making. Have a bit, my dear. Bring it,
Tattsey.â€
It was, I found, one of the peculiarities of these
people to imagine everybody was hungry, and their
hospitality to their friends was without stint.
Tattsey had not so much black-lead on her face as
usual. In fact it was alinost clean, while her hands
were beautifully white, consequent upon its being
peggy day; that is to say, the day in which clothes
were washed in the peggy tub, and kept in motion by
a four-legged peggy, a curious kind of machine with a
cross handle.
So before I could say another word the pork-pie
was brought out on the white kitchen-table, and Mrs.
Stephenson began to cut out a wedge.
“May I take it with me,†I said, “and eat it as I go
along?â€
“Bless the boy; yes, of course,†said our homely
landlady. “Boys who are growing want plenty to
eat. I hate to see people starve.â€
“But I want you to do me a favour,†I said.
“Of course, my dear. What is it?â€
“T want you to lend me your clothes-line.â€
“What, that we are just going to put out in the
yard for the clean clothes? I should just think not
indeed.â€
“How tiresome!†I cried. “Well, never mind; I
must buy a bit. But will you lend me a couple of
meat-hooks?â€
“Now, what in the world are you going to do with
a clothes-line and two meat-hooks?â€
“Tm going fishing,†I said impatiently.
“Now don’t you talk nonsense, my dear,†said our
plump landlady, looking rather red. “Do you think
I don’t know better than that?â€
170 MEAT-HOOKS AND CLOTHES-LINE.
“But I am going fishing,†I cried.
“Where?â€
“Tn our wheel-pit.â€
“Then there’s someone drownded, and you are going
to fish him out.â€
“No, no,†I eried. “Will you lend me the hooks?â€
“Yes, I'll lend you the hooks,†she said, getting them
out of a drawer.â€
“We sha’n’t want the old clothes-line,†said Tattsey
slowly.
“No, we sha’n’t want the old clothes-line,†said Mrs.
Stephenson, looking at me curiously. “ There, you can
have that.â€
“T’ll tell you all about it when I come back,†I cried
as the knot of clean cord was handed to me; and put-
ting an arm through it and the hooks in my pocket
I started off at a run, to find myself face to face with
Gentles before I overtook my uncles.
“Going a wallucking, Mester Jacob?†he said.
“No; Pm going a-fishing.â€
“What, wi that line, Mester?â€
“Ves.â€
“Arn’t it a bit too thick, Mester?â€
“Not in the least, Gentles,†I said; and leaving him
rubbing his face as if to smooth it after being shaved,
I ran on and overtook my uncles just before we reached
the works.
“Thought you weren't coming, Cob,†said Uncle
Dick. “What are you going to do with the rope?â€
“Have patience,†I said laughing.
Just then we passed Stevens, who scowled at us as
he saw me with the rope, while Pannell, who was with
him, stared, and his face slowly lit up with a broad grin.
They turned round to stare after us as we went to
the gate, and then walked off quickly.
«What does that mean, oh, boy of mystery?†said
Uncle Jack:
THE BIG CATCH. 171
“They suspect that I have discovered their plans,†I
cried joyfully.
“And have you—are you sure?â€
“Only wait five minutes, uncle, and you shall see,’ I
cried,
We entered the works, fastened the gate after us,
and then, taking the end of my fishing-line as soon as
we reached the grinding-shop, I began to bind the two
meat-hooks one across the other.
“What, are you going to try for eels that way?â€
said Uncle Bob laughing, as my uncles seemed to be
gradually making out what was to come.
“Well,†I said, “they broke my other line.â€
By this time I had fastened the hooks pretty firmly,
and to the cross I now secured the end of the clothes-
line.
“Fjne eel that, Cob,†said Uncle Dick, hunting the
one I had caught into a corner, for it had been travel-
ling all over the place.
“Ves,†I said; “and now the tackle’s ready, throw
in and see if you can’t get another.’
Uncle Dick went straight to the doorway, stepped
on to the platform, and threw in the hook, which
seemed to catch in something and gave way again.
“Come, I had a bite,†he said laughing. “What has
been thrown in here—some bundles of wire or steel
rods?â€
“Try again,†I said laughing, and he had another
throw, this time getting tight hold of something which
hung fast to the hooks, and came up dripping and
splashing to the little platform, where it was seized,
and Uncle Bob gave a shout of delight.
“Why, I never expected to catch that,†cried Uncle
Dick.
“T thought it was some stolen rings of wire,†said
Uncle Jack, as he seized hold, and together they
dragged a great tangle of leather and catgut bands
172 DRIVING AN EEL.
over the platform into the grinding-shop, fully half
falling back with a tremendous splash.
“Cob, you're a hero,†cried Uncle Dick.
“The malicious scoundrels!†cried Uncle Jack.
“Throw in again,†said Uncle Bob.
And then Uncle Dick fished and dragged and hauled
up tangle after tangle till there was quite a heap of
the dripping bands, with rivulets of water streaming
away over the stone floor, and right in the middle a
monster of an eel, the gentleman I had hooked, and
which had wound itself in and out of the catgut bands
till it was held tight by the mouth.
“ He deserves to have his freedom,†said Uncle Dick,
as he gave the bands a shake so that the hook came out
of the eel’s mouth, and it began to writhe and twine
about the floor.
« And he shall have it,†I cried, taking a walkine-
stick, and for the next five minutes I was employed
trying to guide my prisoner to the doorway leading
into the pit.
I suppose you never tried to drive an eel? No?
Well, let me assure you that pig-driving is a pleasant
pastime in comparison. We have it on good authority
that if you want to drive a pig in a particular direc-
tion all you have to do is to point his nose straight
and then try to pull him back by the tail. Away he
goes directly.
Try and drive a big thick eel, two feet six inches
long, with a walking-stick, and you'll find it a task
that needs an education first. Put his head straight,
and he curves to right or left. Pull his tail, and he'll
turn round and bite you, and hold fast too. Mine
turned round and bit, but it was the walking-stick he
seized with his strong jaws, and it wanted a good shake
to get it frec.
Every way but the right would that eel squirm and
wriggle, I chased him round grindstones, in and out
THE BEST DAY’S FISHING. 173
of water-troughs, from behind posts and planks, from
under benches, but I could not get him to the door;
and I firmly believe that night would have fallen with
me still hunting the slimy wrigeling creature if Uncle
Bob had not seized it with his hands after throwing
his pocket-handkerchief over its back.
The next instant it was curled up in the silk, writhing
itself into a knot, no doubt in an agony of fear, if eels
can feel fear. Then it was held over the pit, the hand-
kerchief taken by one corner, and I expected to hear
it drop with a splash into the water; but no, it held on,
and though the handkerchief was shaken it was some
time before it would quit its hold of the silk, a good
piece of which was tight in its jaws.
At last: an echoing splash, and we turned back to
where my Uncles Jack and Dick were busy with the
bands.
“ The best day’s fishing I ever saw, Cob,†cried Uncle
Jack. “It was stupid of us not to drag the pit or the
dam before.â€
“T don’t know about stupid,†said Uncle Bob. “You
see we thought the bands were stolen or destroyed.
We are learning fast, but we don’t understand yet all
the pleasant ways of the Arrowfield men.â€
The rest of the day was spent over the tiresome job
of sorting out the different bands and hanging them
on their own special wheels to drain or dry ready for
use, and when this was done there was a feeling of
satisfaction in every breast, for it meant beginning
work again, and Uncle Bob said so.
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack; “but also means a fresh
attempt to stop our work as soon as the scoundrels
know.â€
“Never mind,†replied Uncle Dick. “It’s a race to
see who will tire first: the right side or the wrong, and
I think I know.â€
“What's to be done next?†said Uncle Bob.
174 ANOTHER START.
“Tet the men know that we are ready for them to
come back to work if they like to do so,†said Uncle
Jack.
“Why not get fresh hands altogether?â€
“Because they would be just as great children as
those we have now. No; let us be manly and straight-
forward with them in everything. We shall fight for
our place, but we will not be petty.â€
“But they will serve us some other scurvy trick,â€
said Uncle Bob.
“Let them,†said Uncle Dick; “never mind. There,â€
he eried, “those bands will be fit to use to-morrow with
this clear dry air blowing through. Let’s go home
now and have a quiet hour or two before we come to
watch.â€
“T wish,†said Uncle Jack, “that the works joined
our house.â€
“Go on wishing,†said Uncle Bob, “and they won't
join. Now, how about telling the men?â€
“Let's call and see Dunning and tell him to start
the fires,†said Uncle Dick; and as we went back the
gate-keeper was spoken to, and the old man’s face lit
up at the idea of the place being busy again.
“ And I hope, gentlemen,†he whispered from behind
his hand, “that you will be let alone now.â€
“To which,’ said Uncle Bob as we walked on, “I
most devoutly say, Amen.â€
aL]
7 joteg:
ae
CHAPTER XY.
I HAVE AN IDEA.
HE work was started the next morning, and
| fora fortnight or so everything went on in
the smoothest manner possible. The men
were quite cheerful and good-tempered,
doing their tasks and taking their wages, and though
we kept our regular watch nothing disturbed us in the
slightest degree.
“An’ so you fun ’em in the wheel-pit, did you, Mester
Jacob?†said Gentles to me one dinner-hour as he sat
by his grindstone eating his bread and meat off a clean
napkin spread over his knees.
“Yes,†I said, looking at him keenly.
“But how came you to find ’em, mester?â€
I told him.
“Did you, now?†he cried, shutting his eyes and
grinning. “Think o’ that! Why, I put you up to the
eels, and so I might say it was me as found the bands,
only you see it was not you nor yet me—it was the eel.â€
He nearly choked himself with laughing, but my
next words sobered him, and he sat up looking pain-
fully solemn and troubled of face.
“Tl be bound you know who threw those bands
into the water, Gentles,†I said.
One of his eyes quivered, and he looked at me as if
he were going to speak. He even opened his mouth,
176 “DON’T ASK ME, MESTER.â€
and I could see his tongue quivering as if ready to
begin, but he shut it with a.snap and shook his head.
“Don’t tell any stories about it,†I said; “but you do
know.â€
“Don’t ask me, mester,†he cried with a groan. “Don’t
ask me.â€
“Then you do know,†I cried.
“T don’t know nowt,†he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Why, man alive, it wouldn’t be sate for a chap like
ine to know owt. They'd put a brick round my neck
and throw me in the watter.â€
“But you do know, Gentles,†I persisted.
“T don’t know nowt, I tell ’ee,†he cried angrily.
“Such friends as we've been, Mester Jacob, and you to
want to get me into a scrarp.â€
“Why, Gentles!†I cried. “If you know, why don’t
you speak out like a man?â€
“’Cause I’m a man 0’ peace, Mester Jacob, and don’t
want to harm nobody, and I don’t want nobody to
harm me. Nay, I know nowt at all.â€
“Well, I think you are a contemptible coward,
Gentles,†I said warmly. “Youre taking my uncles’
money and working on their premises, and though
you know who has been base enough to injure them
you are not man enough to speak.â€
“Now don’t—don’t—don’t, my lad,†he cried in a
hoarse whisper. “Such friends as we’ve been too, and
you go on like that. I tell’ee I’m a man of peace, and
I don’t know nowt at all. On’y give me my grinstone
and something to grind—that’s all I want.â€
“ And to see our place blown up and the bands des-
troyed. There, I’m ashamed of you, Gentles,’ I cried.
“But youll be friends?†he said; and there were
tears in his eyes.
“Friends! How can I be friends,’ I cried, “with a
man like you?â€
“ Oh dear, oh dear!†I heard him groan as I left the
I VISIT PANNELL. 177
workshop; and going to Piter’s kennel I took off his
collar and led him down to the dam to give him a
swim.
He was a capital dog for the water, and thoroughly
enjoyed a splash, so that before the men came back he
had had a swim, shaken himself, and was stretched out
in the sunshine under the wall drying himself, when,
as I stooped to pat him, I noticed something about the
wall that made me look higher in a hurried way, and
then at the top, and turn off directly.
I had seen enough, and I did not want to be noticed,
for some of the men were beginning to come back, so
stooping down I patted Piter and went off to the office.
As soon as the men were well at work I went into
one of the sheds, where there were two or three holes
under the benches where the rats came up from the
dam, and where it was the custom to set a trap or two,
which very rarely snared one of the busy little
animals, though now and then we did have that luck,
and Piter had the pleasure of killing the mischievous
creature if the trap had not thoroughly done its work.
I soon found what I wanted—an old rusty spring
trap with its sharp teeth, and, shaking off the dust, I
tucked it under my jacket and strolled off to the
smith’s shops, where I found Pannell hammering away
as hard as ever he could.
He was making reaping-hooks of my uncles’ patent
steel, and as I stood at the door and watched him I
counted the blows he gave, and it was astonishing how
regular he was, every implement taking nearly the
same number of blows before he threw it down.
“Well, Pannell,†I said, “arn't you sorry to have to
work: so hard again?â€
He whisked a piece of hot steel from his forge and
just glanced at me as he went on with his work, laying
the glowing sparkling steel upon the anvil.
“ Sorry !â€â€”bang—“noâ€â€”bang— ‘not aâ€â€”bing, bang,
(322) : M
178 “rs A FREIGHT!â€
bang—“not aâ€â€”bang, bang, bing, bang, bang—*bit of
it.â€
That was how it sounded to me as he worked away.
“Wife â€â€”bang—* bairnsâ€â€”bing, bang, bang, bing,
chinger, chinger, bing, bang—* eight â€â€”bang— of
‘em. I hateâ€â€™â€”bang—‘“to doâ€â€”bang—“nowtâ€â€”bang
—* but â€â€”bang—* smoke all†—bang—* day.â€
“T say, Pannell,†I said, after glancing round and
seeing that we were quite alone, “how came you to
throw our bands in the wheel-pit?â€
“What!†he cried, pincers in one hand, hammer in
the other; and he looked as if he were going to seize
me with one tool and beat me with the other. “ Yah!
. Get out, you young joker! You know it warn’t me.â€
“But you know who did it.â€
Pannell looked about him, through the window, out
of the door, up the forge chimney, and then he gave
me a solemn wink.
“Then why don’t you speak?â€
The big smith took a blade of steel from the fire as
if it were a flaming sword, and beat it into the reap-
ing-hook of peace before he said in a hoarse whisper:
“ Men’s o’ one side, lad—unions. Mesters is t’other
side. It’s a feight.â€
“But it’s so cowardly, Pannell,†I said.
“Ay, lad, it is,†he cried, banging away. “ But I
can’t help it. Union says strike, and you hev to strike
whether you like it or whether you don’t like it, and
clem till it’s over.â€
“But it’s such a cowardly way of making war, to do
what you men do.†:
“What they men do, lad,†he whispered.
“What you men do,†I repeated.
“Nay, they men,†he whispered.
“Vou are one of them, and on their side, so what
they do you do.â€
“Ts that so?†he said, giving a piece of steel such a
THE TRADE. 179
hard bang that he had to repeat it to get it into
shape.
“Of course it is.â€
“Well, I s’pose you're right, lad,†he said, thought-
fully.
“Why don’t you tell me, then, who threw the bands
in the wheel-pit, so that he could be discharged?â€
“Me! Me tell! Nay. Look at that now.â€
That was a piece of steel spoiled by the vehemence
of his blows, and it was thrust back into the fire.
“T will not say who gave me the information,†I
said,
He shook his head.
“ Nobody shall ever know that you told me.â€
He took a little hook he was forging and made a
motion with it as if I were a stalk of wheat and he
wanted to draw me to him.
“Lad,†he said, “man who tells on his mate aren’t a
man no longer. I wm a man.â€
We stood looking at each other for some time, and
then he said in his rough way:
“Tt aren't no doing o’ mine, lad, and I don’t like it.
It aven’t manly. One o’ the mesters did owt to me as
I didn’t like I’d go up to him and ask him to tek off
his coat like a man and feight it out, or else I'd go
away; but man can’t do as he likes 7. Arrowfield. He
has to do what trade likes.â€
“And it was the trade who threw our bands away,
and tried to blow us up, and half-poisoned me and
Piter.â€
“Hah!†he said with a sigh. “'That’s it, lad.â€
“ Ah, well, I didn’t expect youd tell me, Pannell,†I
said, smiling.
“You see I can’t, my lad. Now can 1?â€
“No; it wouldn’t be honourable. But I say, Pannell,
I mean to do all I can to find out who plays us these
dirty tricks.â€
180 A DECENT CHAP.
The big smith looked about him before speaking
again.
“Don’t, my lad,†he whispered. “Yow might get
hurt, and I shouldn't like that ideed.â€
“Oh, I won’t get hurt!†I said. “Look here, Pannell,
do you see this?â€
“Ay, lad. Trap for the rats. I’ve sin scores on
vem.â€
“We set them to catch the rats,†I said, hesitating
a moment or two before making my venture. “I say,
Pannell,†I said, “we're very good friends you and ILâ€
“Course we are, lad; for a Londoner you're quite a
decent chap.â€
“Thank you,†I said, smiling. “ Well, on the quiet,
I want you to do me a favour.â€
“Long as it aren't to tell on my mates, lad, Pll do
owt for you. There!â€
That there was as emphatic as a blow from his
hammer on the anvil.
“T thought. you would, Pannell,’ I said. “ Well,
look here. My uncles are as good and kind-hearted
men as ever lived.â€
«And as nyste to work for as ever was,†said Pan-
nell, giving an emphatic bang on his work as he
hammered away.
“Well, I’m very fond of them,†I said.
“Natrally, lad, nat’rally.â€
“And as I know they're trying to do their best for
everybody who works for them, as well as for them-
selves, so as to find bread for all %
I stopped just then, for the big smith’s face was very
red, and he was making a tremendous clangour with
his hammer.
“Well,†I said, “it worries me very much to see that
every now and then a big rat gets to their sack of
wheat and gnaws a hole in it and lets the grain run
out.â€
THE QUESTION OF A TRAP. 181
“Where do they keep their wheat?†said Pannell,
leaving off for awhile.
“ Here,†I said.
“Ah! there’s part rats about these here rezzy-
wors,†he said, thoughtfully. “Why don’t you set that
trap?â€
“Because it isn’t half big enough—not a quar-
ter big enough,†I said; “but I wish to catch that
rat, and I want you to make me a big trap like this,
only four times as large, and with a very strong
spring.â€
“Eh?â€
“T want to set that trap, and I want to catch that
great cowardly rat, and I want you to make me a trap
that will hold him.â€
“Eh?â€
“Don’t you understand?†I said, looking at him
meaninely as he stood wiping the perspiration from
his brow with the back of his hand.
“Yow want to set a trap to catch the big rat as
comes and makes a hole in the mester’s sack.â€
“Yes,†I said. “I want to catch him.â€
“What! here about the works?â€
“Yes,†I said. “Now do you see?â€
Poof!
Pannell gave vent to a most curious sound that was
like nothing so much as one that might have been
emitted if his forge bellows had suddenly burst. To
give vent to that sound he opened his mouth wide,
clapped his hands on his leather apron, and bent nearly
double.
. “Why, Pannell!†I exclaimed.
Poof! He stamped first one lee on the black iron
dust and ashes, and then the other, going round his
anvil and grumbling and rumbling internally in the
most extraordinary manner.
Then he looked me in the face and exploded once
182 PANNELL LAUGHS.
more, till his mirth and the absurdity of his antics
grew infectious, and I laughed too.
“And you're going to set a big trap to catch that
there â€â€™â€”poof—* that theer very big rat, eh?â€
“Ves,†I said, “if I ean.â€
“And you want me,†he whispered, with his eyes
starting with suppressed mirth, “to make you that
theer big trap.â€
“Yes.â€
“Then Vl do it,†he whispered, becoming preter-
naturally solemn. “Stop! “Tween man an’ man you
know.â€
He held out his great black hard hand, which I
grasped.
“Qn my honour, Pannell, Pll never tell a soul that
you made the trap, not for ten years, or twenty, if you
like.â€
“That's enough,†he said, giving his leg a slap.
“ Haw, haw, haw, haw, haw! Here, give us the model.
When dyer want it, lad?â€
“ As soon as ever you can get it made, Pannell.â€
He looked at me with his face working, and scraping
a hole in the ashes he buried the trap, seized hammer
and pincers, and worked away again, but stopped every
now and then to laugh.
“T say,†he said suddenly, “it'll sarve ’em right; but
if they knowed as I did it they’d wait for me coming
home and give me the knobsticks. Ay, that they
would.â€
“But they will not know, Pannell,’ I said. “It’s
our secret, mind.â€
“Hey, but I’d like to see the rat i’ the trap!†he
whispered, after exploding with another fit of mirth.
“Let's have the trap first,†I said. “I don’t know
that I shall catch him then.â€
“What are you going to bait with?†he said between
two fierce attacks upon a piece of steel.
HOW TO BAIT IT. 183
“Oh, I have not settled that yet!â€
“Tl tell ’ee,†he whispered with his face working.
“ Bait it with a wheel-band.â€
He roared with laughter again, and if I had had any
doubts before of his understanding that I wanted a
very strong man-trap, I had none now.
CHAPTER XVI.
SOMETHING FOR ME,
a ASH —cruel—unwise. Well, I’m afraid it
1 was all those, but I was only a boy, and I
was stung by the injustice and cowardly
cruelty of the outrages perpetrated on us by
the men who earned their bread in our works; and
hence it was, that, instead of feeling any compunction
in doing what I proposed, I was delighted with the
idea, and longed for an opportunity to put it in force.
I was, then, very eager to begin, for the present calm,
I felt sure, was only going before the storm, and after
what I had found out I was anxious to be ready.
Pannell did not keep me waiting long.
Two days after 1 had made my plans with him I
went into his smithy, and in answer to my inquiring
look he said, in a heavy, unmoved way:
“Theer’s summut for you hung up i the forge
chimney. She goes hard, but theer’s a steel bar ‘long
wi her as you can prise down the spring till she’s set.
On’y mind thysen, lad—mind thysen.â€
« And will it hold a man, Pannell?†I cried.
“Ay; this here’s noo pattern. I haven’t got into it
yet. I’ve got a rare lot of ’em to do.â€
“ But tell me,†I whispered, “ will it?â€
“Think this here noo steel’s better than owd fashion
stoof?†he said.
“GooD LUCK TO THEE!†185
“Bother the steel!†I said, speaking lower still. “I
want you to tell me whether—â€
“Bull-poop’s gettin’ too fat, Mester Jacob,’ said
Pannell. “Don’t give ‘im so much meat. Spoils a
dorg. Give un bones as he can break oop and yeat.
That’s the stoof for dorgs. Gives un such a coat as
never was.â€
“ Will you tell me?†I began, angrily.
“Nay, I wean’t tell thee nowt,†he growled. “I’ve
telled thee enew as it is. Tek it when I’m not here,
and good luck to thee!â€
I could get no more from him, for he would not say
another word about the trap, so I waited impatiently
for the night so that I might smuggle it from the forge
chimney into my desk.
When the time came it was quite absurd how many
hindrances there were to my little task. I did not
want to set it that night. I only wanted to get it in
safety tomy desk; but first there were men hanging
about the smithies as if they were watching me; then
there were my uncles; and lastly, there was Gentles,
who made signs that he wished to speak to me, and I
didn’t care to say anything to the sleek, oily fellow,
who only wanted to what he called make it up.
At last, though, everyone had gone but Uncle Jack,
who was busy writing a letter or two, and I was to
wait for him, and we were going back together.
I slipped off to the smithy, and just as I was half-
way there I turned quickly round, feeling quite cold,
and as if I was found out, for I heard a curious yawn-
ing noise behind me.
It was only Piter, who looked up in my face and
gave his tail a wag, and then butted his great head
against my leg, holding it tightly there as if it was so
heavy that he was glad to give it a rest.
I went on at once impatiently, and Piter’s head sank
down, the dog uttering a low, discontented whine on
186 PANNELL’S PRODUCTION.
being left. I glanced up at the wall, half expecting to
see some one looking over and watching me; then up at
the windows, fearing that one of the men might still be
left.
But all was perfectly quiet, and though I half antici-
pated such an accident there was no one seated on the
top of either of the great chimney-shafts in the neigh-
bourhood watching me with a telescope.
I had _a few more absurdly impossible ideas of this
kind as I went along the yard, feeling horribly guilty
and ready to give up my undertaking. The very
silence and solitariness of the place startled me, but I
went on and turned in at the open door of the smithy
where Pannell worked, and breathed more freely as I
looked round and saw that I was alone.
But to make sure I stepped up on to the work-bench
and looked out of the window, but there was nothing
but the dam to be seen there, and I leaped down and
climbed on to the forge, with the coal-dust crushing
under my feet, gave a last elance round, and was about
to peer up the funnel-like, sheet-iron chimney, when
there was a loud clang, and I bounded down, with my
heart beating furiously.
‘I stamped my foot directly after and bit my lips
angrily because I had been such a coward, for I had
moved a pair of smiths’ tongs when I stepped up, and
they had slid off on to the ground.
“Pm doing what I ought not to do,†I said to my-
self as I jumped on to the forge again, “ but now I’ve
gone so far I must go on.â€
I peered up in the dark funnel and could see nothing,
but I had come prepared, and striking a match I saw
just before me, resting on a sooty ledge, the object of
my quest.
I lifted it down, astounded at its size and weight,
and found that it was an exact imitation of the rat-
trap, but with blunt teeth, and a short steel lever with
I SHUT IT UP. 187
a point like a crowbar was attached to it by means of
a bit of wire.
It was enormous, and I quite trembled at the idea of
carrying it to the office; but after a sharp glance out of
the doorway I took hold of the trap by the iron chain
bound round it, and walked quickly to my own place,
hoping that even if I had been seen, the watcher would
not have been able to make out what I was carrying.
There was not much room to spare when I had laid
the great trap in my desk, the lid of which would only
just shut down over it; but once safely there, and with
the key in the lock ready for me to turn if I heard
steps, I had a good look at my treasure.
I was nervous now, and half repentant, for the instru-
ment looked so formidable that I felt that I should not
dare to use it.
I had a good look though, and found that it was
very complete with chain and ring, and that the lever
had a head to it like a pin, evidently so that after it
had been used, it could be placed through the ring at
the end of the chain, and driven down to act as a peg
in the ground.
I had hardly arrived at all this when I heard Uncle
Jack’s cough, and hastily closing the desk and locking
it, I went to meet him.
“Sorry to keep you waiting so long, my boy,†he
said; “but I wanted to send word to your father how
Wwe are going on.â€
It was on the second night that I put my plan into
practice.
I had thought it all well out, and inspected my
ground, which was just below the wall, pretty close to
the edge of the dam, where I had seen some marks
which had made me suspicious.
So as soon as Uncle Bob had gone to lie down, and
I had begun my half of the watch, I fastened up Piter,
took ont my heavy trap, carried it down to the edge
188 I SET THE TRAP.
of the dam, and carefully felt the wall for the place I
had marked by driving in a little nail.
I soon found it, placed my trap exactly beneath it,
and wrenching down the spring by means of the lever,
I tried to set it.
I had practised doing this in my own place, and
could manage it pretty well, but in the darkness and
excitement that troubled me now, it proved to be an
exceedingly difficult job. Twice I managed to get it
set, and was moving away when it went off with a
startling clang that made me jump, and expect to see
Uncle Bob come running out, especially as the dog set
up a furious bark.
I quieted Piter though each time, and went and tried
again till I managed my task, having to take great
care that I did not hoist myself with my own petard,
for it was a terribly dangerous engine that I was setting,
though I did not think so then.
It was now set to my satisfaction, and being quite
prepared with a big hammer, my next task was to
drive in the lever like a peg right through the ring
and up to the head, so that if I did catch my bird,
there would be no chance of his getting away.
I felt about in the dark for a suitable place, and the
most likely seemed to be just at the extent of the five
feet of chain, which reached to the edge of the dam,
where, between two of the big stones of the embank-
ment, I fancied I could drive in the lever so that it
could not be drawn out.
So taking the steel bar with the sharp edge I ran it
through the ring, directed the point between two blocks
of stone, and then began to drive.
As I said I was well prepared, having carefully
thought out the whole affair, and I had bound several
thicknesses of cloth over the head of the hammer like
a pad so as to muffle the blows, and thus it was that
I was able to drive it home without much noise.
THE NEXT MORNING. 189
At first it went in so easily that I was about to select
a fresh place, but it soon became harder and firmer,
and when I had done and felt the head it was quite
immovable, and held the ring close down to the stones.
My idea had been to cover the trap with a handful
or two of hay, but it was so dark that I thought I
would leave it, as it was impossible to see it even from
where I looked. I left it, meaning to come the next
morning and set it free with a file, for I did not want to
take up the peg, and I could get another for lever and
join the chain with a strong padlock the next time.
It was about eleven o’clock when I had finished my
task, and I did not know whether to be pleased or
alarmed. I felt something like a boy might who had
set a bait at the end of a line to catch a crocodile, and
was then very much alarmed for fear he should have
any luck.
I crept away and waited, thinking a great deal
about Piter, and what would be the consequences if he
walked over the trap, but I argued that the chances
were a hundred thousand to one against his going to
that particular spot. Besides, if I left him chained up
Uncle Bob was not likely to unloose him, so I deter-
mined to run the risk, and leave the trap set when I
went off ouard.
The time went slowly by without any alarm, and
though I went now and then cautiously in the direction
of my trap it had not been disturbed, and I came away
more and more confident that it was in so out of the
way a part of the yard that it might be there for weeks
unseen.
I felt better after this, and at the appointed time
called Uncle Bob, who took his watch, and when he
called me in the morning the wheel was turning, and
the men were coming up to their work.
“T thought you were tired, Cob, so I let you lie till
the last moment.â€
190 I FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.
I was so stupid and confused with sleep that I got
up yawning; and we were half-way back home be-
fore, like a flash, there came to me the recollection of
my trap.
_ I could not make an excuse and go back, though I
tried hard to invent one; but went on by my uncle’s
side so quiet and thoughtful that he made a remark.
“Bit done up, Cob! You ought to have another nap
after dinner.â€
“Oh, I’m all right, uncle,†I said, and I went on home
with him to have steel-traps for breakfast and think
of nothing else save what they had caught.
For I felt perfectly sure that someone had come
over the wall in the night—Stevens I expected it
would prove to be—and had put his foot right in the
trap, which had sprung, caught him by the leg, and
cut it right off, and I felt sure that when I got back I
should find him lying there where he had bled to
death.
The next thing that struck me was that I was a
murderer, and that I should be tried and condemned
to death, but respited and sentenced to transportation
for life on account of my youth.
With such thoughts as these rushing through my
brain it was not likely that I should enjoy the break-
fast with the brown and pink ham so nicely fried, and
the eges that were so creamy white, and with such
yolks of gold.
I did not enjoy that breakfast, and I was feverishly
anxious to get back to the works, and though first
one and then another advised me to go and lie down,
I insisted upon going.
I was all in a tremble as I reached the gate, and saw
old Dunning’s serious face. I read in it reproach, and
he seemed to be saying to me, “Oh, how could you do
it?†Seemed, for what he did say was, “ Nice pleasant
morning, Mester Jacob!â€
WHAT LUCK? 191
I told a story, for I said, “ Yes, it is,†when it was to
me the most painful and miserable morning I had ever
experienced; but I dared not say a word, and for some
time I could not find an opportunity for going down
the yard.
Nobody ever did go down there, unless it was to
wheel a worn-out grindstone to a resting-place or to
carry some broken woodwork of the machinery to
throw ina heap. There was the heap of coal and the
heap of slack or coal-dust, both in the yard; but those
who fetched the coal and slack fetched them from this
side, and they never went on the other.
The last time I could recall the men going down
there to the dam, was when we threw in Piter to give
him a bath.
Piter! Had he been let loose? The thought that had
come of him was startling, but easily set right, for there
was the bull-dog fast asleep in his kennel.
Then there was Stevens!
The thought was horrible. He ought to be in the
grinding shop, and if he were not—I knew!
It would have been easy to go and look, but I felt
that I could not, and I walked back to the gate and
spoke to old Dunning.
“ All the men come yet?†I said.
“No, Mester Jacob, they hevn’t all come yet,†he said.
I dare not ask any more. All had not come, and one
ot those who had not come was, of course, Stevens, and
he was lying there dead.
I walked back with Dunning’s last words ringing in
my ears.
“Ain't you well, Mester Jacob?â€
No, I was not well. I felt sick and miserable, and I
would have given anything to have gone straight down
the yard and seen the extent of the misery I had caused.
Ob! if I could have recalled the past, and undone
everything; but that was impossible, and in a state of
192 IS IT STEVENS?
feverish anxiety I went upstairs to where the men
were busy at lathe and dry erindstones, to try and get
a glimpse of my trap, as I hoped I could from one of
the windows.
To my horror there were two men looking out, and
I stopped dumbfoundered as I listened for their words,
which I knew must be about the trapped man lying
there,
“Nay, lad,†said one, “yow could buy better than they
at pit’s mouth for eight shillings a chaldron.â€
Oh, what arelief! It was like life to me, and going to
one window I found that they could only see the heap
of coals.
From the other windows there was no better view.
Kiven from the room over the water-wheel there was
no chance of a glimpse of the trap.
I could not stop up there, for I was all of a fret, and
at last, screwing up my nerves to the sticking point, I
went down determined to go boldly into the grinder’s
shop, and see if Stevens was there.
What an effort it was! I have often wondered since
whether other boys would have suffered what I did
under the circumstances, or whether I was a very ereat
coward.
Well, coward or no, I at last went straight into the
erinder’s shop, and there was the plashing rumble of
the great water-wheel beyond the door, the rattle of
the bands and the whirr and whirl and screech of the
erindstones as they spun round, and steel in some form
or other was held to their edge.
There were half a dozen faces I knew, and there was
Gentles ready to smile at me with his great mouth and
closed eyes.
But I could only just glance at him and nod, for to
my horror Stevens’ wheel was not going, and there
was no one there.
I felt the cold sweat gather all over my face, and a
No! 193
horrible sensation of dread assailed me; and then I
turned and hurried out of the building, so that my
ghastly face and its changes should not be seen.
For just then I saw Stevens rise up from behind his
grindstone with an oil-can in his hand—he had been
busy oiling some part or other of the bearings.
(322) N
CHAPTER XVII.
MY TRAVELLING COMPANION.
|] OMEHOW or another I could not get to that
trap all that day, and night came, and still
I could not get to it.
IT tried, but unless I had wanted to draw
people’s attention to the fact that I had something
there of creat interest, I could not go.
Even at leaving time it was as bad, and I found
myself in the position that I must either tell one of my
uncles what I had done, or leave the trap to take its
chance.
I chose the latter plan, and calling myself weak
coward, went home, arguing to myself that no one
would go in the spot where I had placed the trap, but
some miscreant, and that it would serve him right.
To my utter astonishment, directly after tea Uncle
Dick turned to me.
“Cob,†he said; “we have a special letter to send to
Canonbury to your father, and a more particular one
to bring back in answer, so we have decided that you
shall take it up. You can have three or four days’
holiday, and it will be a pleasant change. Your mother
and father will be delighted to see you, and, of course,
you will be glad to see them.â€
“But when should I have to go?†I said.
“To-night by the last train. Quarter to eleven
LONDON, HO! 195
—You'll get to London about three in the morning.
They expect one of us, so you will find them up.â€
“But—’
“Don’t you want to go?†said Uncle Jack severely.
“Yes,†I said; “but—’
“But me no buts, as the man said in the old play.
There, get ready, boy, and come back to us as soon as
you can, Don’t make the worst of our troubles here,
Cob.â€
“No, no,†said Uncle Dick, because we are getting on
famously as soon as we can manage the men.â€
“And that we are going to do,†said Uncle Bob.
“T say I wish I were coming with you.â€
“Do, then,†I cried.
“Get out, you young tempter! No,†said Uncle
Bob. “Go and take your pleasure, and have pity upon
the three poor fellows who are toiling here.â€
I was obliged to go, of course, but I must tell them
about the trap first.
Tell them! No, I could not tell Uncle Dick or Uncle
Jack. I was afraid that they would be angry with me,
so I resolved to speak to Uncle Bob before I went—to
take him fully into my confidence, and ask him to move
the trap and put it safely away.
It is so easy to make plans—so hard to carry them
out.
All through that evening I could not once get a
chance to speak to Uncle Bob alone; and time went so
fast that we were on our way to the station, and still
I had not spoken, There was only the chance left—
on the platform.
“Don’t look so solid about it, Cob,†said Uncle Jack.
“They'll be delighted to see you, boy, and it will be a
pleasant trip. But we want you back.â€
“T should think we do,†said Uncle Dick, laying his
great hand on my shoulder and giving me an atfec-
tionate grip.
196 MY LAST WORDS.
“Yes, we couldn’t get on without our first lieutenant,
Philosopher Cob,†said Uncle Bob.
I tried to look bright and cheerful; but that trap
had not got me by the leg—it seemed to be round my
neck and to choke me from speaking.
What was I to do? I could not get a chance. I
dare not go away and leave that trap there without
speaking, and already there was the distant rumble of
the coming train. In‘a few minutes I should be on
my way to London; and at last in despair I got close
to Uncle Bob to speak, but in vain—I was put off.
In came the train, drawing up to the side of the
platform, and Uncle Bob ran off to find a comfortable
‘compartment for me, looking after me as kindly as if
T had been a woman.
“Oh,†I thought, “if he would but have stayed
“Good-bye, my lad!†said Unele Dick.
“Take care of yourself, Cob, and of the packet,â€
whispered Uncle Jack.
I was about to slap my breast and say, “All right
here!†but he caught my hand and held it down.
“Don’t,†he said in a low half-angry voice. “Dis-
cretion, boy. If you have something valuable about
you, don’t show people where it is.â€
I saw the wisdom of the rebuke and shook hands.
“Tl try and be wiser,†I whispered; “trust me.â€
He nodded, and this made me forget the trap for
the moment. But Uncle Bob grasped my hand and
brought it back.
«Stand away, please,†shouted the guard; but Uncle
Bob held on by my hand as the train moved.
«Take care of yourself, lad. Call a cab the moment
you reach the platform if your father is not there.â€
“Ves,†I said, reaching over a fellow-passenger to
speak. “Uncle Bob,†I added quickly, “ big trap in
the corner of the yard; take it up at once—to-
night.â€
1?
THE KEEN-LOOKING MAN. 197
“Yes, yes,†he said as he ran along the platform.
“Tl see to it. Good-bye!â€
We were off and he was waving his hand to me, and
I saw him for a few moments, and then all was indis-
tinct beneath the station lamps, and we were gliding
on, with the glare and smoke and glow of the busy
town lighting up the sky.
It had all come to me so suddenly that I could hardly
believe I was speeding away back to London; but once
more comfortable in my mind with the promise that
Uncle Bob had made to take up the trap, I sat back
in the comfortable corner seat thinking of secing my
father and mother again, and of what a series of ad-
ventures I should have to relate.
Then I had a look round at my fellow-passengers, of
whom there were three—a stout old gentleman and a
young lady who seemed to be his daughter, and a dark-
eyed keen-looking man who was seated opposite to
me, and who held a newspaper in his hand and had a
couple of books with him.
“Vd offer to lend you one,†he said, touching his
books and smiling; “but you couldn’t read—lI can’t.
Horrible lights.â€
Just then a heavy snore from the old gentleman
made the young lady lean over to him and touch him,
waking him wp with a start.
The keen-looking man opposite to me raised his
eyebrows and smiled slightly, shading his face from
the other occupants with his newspaper.
Three or four times over the old gentleman dropped
asleep and had to be roused up, and my fellow-passen-
ger smiled good-humouredly and said:
“ Might as well have let him sleep.â€
This was in a whisper, and he made two or three
remarks to me.
He seemed very much disposed to be friendly and
pointed out the lights of a distant town or two.
198 MY FELLOW-PASSENGER IS FRIENDLY.
“Got in at Arrowfield, didn’t you?†he said at last.
I replied that I did; and it was on the tip of my
tongue to say, “So did you,†but I did not.
“Tm going on to London,†he said. “Nasty time to
eet in—three in the morning. I hate it. No one
about. Night cabs and milk carts, police and market
wagons. People at the hotel always sleepy. Ah! here
we are at Westernbow.â€
For the train was stopping, and when it did draw
up at the platform the old gentleman was roused up
by the young lady, and they got out and left us alone.
“Ha! ha!†said my companion, “that’s better. Give
us room to stretch our legs. Do you bet?â€
“No,†I said, “never.â€
“Good, lad! Don’t; very bad habit. I do; Pve lots
of bad habits. But I was going to say, Pl bet you an
even half-crown that we don't have another passenger
from here to London.â€
“J hope we shall not,†I said as I thought of a nap
on the seat.
“So do I, sir—so do I,†he said, nodding his head
quickly. “I vote we lie down and make the best of it
—by and by. Have a cigar first?â€
«Thank you; I don’t smoke,†I said.
“T do. Will you excuse me if I have a cigar? Not
a smoking carriage—more comfortable.â€
I assured him that I should not mind; and he took
out a cigar, lit it, and began to smoke.
“Better have one,†he said. “Mild as mild. They
won't hurt you.â€
I thanked him again and declined, sitting back and
watching him as he smoked on seeming to enjoy his
cigar, and made a remark or two about the beautiful
night and the stars as the train dashed on.
After a time he took outa flask, slipped off the plated
cup at the bottom, and unscrewed the top, pouring out
afterward some clear-looking liquid.
i REFUSE TO DRINK. 199
“Have a drink?†he said, offering me the flask-cup;
but I shook my head.
“No, thank you,†I said; and somehow I began
thinking of the water I had drunk at the works, and
which had made me so terribly sleepy.
I don’t know how it was, but I did think about that,
and it was in my mind as he said laughingly:
“What! not drink a little drop of mild stuff like
that? Well, you are a fellow! Why it’s like milk.â€
He seemed to toss it off
“ Better have a drop,†he said.
I deelined.
“Nonsense! Do,†he cried. “Do you good. Come,
have a drink.â€
He grew more persistent, but the more persistent he
was the more I shrank from the cup he held in his
hand; and at last I felt sorry, for he seemed so kind
that it was ungracious of me to refuse him so simple
a request.
“Qh, very well!†he said, “just as you like. There
will be the more for me.â€
He laughed, nodded, and drank the contents of the
cup before putting the screw-top on the flask, thrust-
ing it in his breast-pocket, and then making a cushion
of his railway wrapper he lay at full length upon the
cushion, and seemed to compose himself to sleep.
It was such a good example that, after a few minutes’
silence, I did the same, and lay with my eyes half closed,
listening to the dull rattle of the train, and thinking
of the works at Arrowfield, and what a good job it was
that I spoke to Uncle Bob about the trap.
Then I hoped he would not be incautious and hurt
himself in letting off the spring.
I looked across at my fellow-traveller, who seemed
to be sleeping soundly, and the sight of his closed eyes
made mine heavy, and no wonder, for every other
night I had been on guard at the works. and that
200 A HORRIBLE AWAKENING,
seemed to shorten my allowance of sleep to a terrible
degree.
I knew there could be no mistake, for I was going
as far as the train went, and the guard would be sure
to wake me up if I was fast asleep.
And how satisfactory it seemed to be lying there on
the soft cushions instead of walking about the works
and the yard the previous night. Iwas growing more
and more sleepy, the motion of the train serving to
lull me; and then, all at once, I was wide-awake staring
at the bubble of glass that formed the lamp in the ceil-
ing, and wondering where I was.
I recollected directly and glanced at my fellow-
.traveller, to see that he was a little uneasy, one of his
legs being off the seat; but he was breathing heavily,
and evidently fast asleep.
I lay watching him for a few minutes, and then the
sweet restful feeling mastered me again, and I went
off fast asleep. One moment there was the compart-
ment with its cushions and lamp with the rush and
sway of the carriage that made me think it must be
something like this on board ship; the next I was back
at the works keeping watch and wondering whether
either of the men would come and make any attempt
upon the place.
I don’t know how long I had been asleep, but all
at once, without moving, I was wide-awake with my
eyes closed, fully realizing that I had a valuable packet
of some kind in my breast-pocket, and that my fellow-
traveller was softly unbuttoning my overcoat so as to
get it out.
I lay perfectly still for a moment or two, and then
leaped up and bounded to the other side of the carriage.
“There, it is of no use,†said my fellow-traveller;
“pull that letter out of your pocket and give it to me
quietly or†—
He said no more, but took a pistol out of his breast,
I AM ATTACKED. 201
while I shrank up against the farther door, the window
of which was open, and stared at him aghast.
“Do you hear?†he said fiercely. “Come; no non-
sense! I want that letter. There, I don’t want to
frighten you, boy. Come and sit down; I sha’n’t hurt
you.â€
The train was flying along at forty miles an hour at
least, and this man knew that the packet I had was
valuable. How he knew it I could not tell, but he
must have found out at Arrowfield. He was going to
take it from me, and if he got it what was he going
to do?
I thought it all over as if in a flash.
He was going to steal the packet, and he would know
that I should complain at the first station we reached;
and he would prevent this, I felt sure. But how?
There was only one way. He had threatened me
with a pistol, but I did not think he would use that.
No; there was only one way, and it was this—he would
rob me and throw me out of the train.
My legs shook under me as I thought this, and the
light in the carriage seemed to be dancing up and down,
as I put my right arm out of the window and hung to
the side to keep myself up.
All this was a matter of moments, and it seemed
to be directly after my fellow-passenger had spoken
first that he roared out, “Do you hear, sir? Come
here!â€
I did not move, and he made a dash at me, but, as
he did, my right hand rested on the fastening of the
door outside, turned the handle, and clinging to it, I
swung out into the rushing wind, turning half round
as the door banged heavily back, when, by an instinc-
tive motion, my left hand caught at anything to save
me from falling, grasped the bar that ran along between
door and door, and the next moment, how I know not,
I was clinging to this bar with my feet on the foot-
202 A FEARFUL RISK.
board, and my eyes strained back at the open door, out
of which my fellow-passenger leaned.
“You young idiot, come back!†he roared; but the
effect of his words was to make me shrink farther
away, catching at the handle of the next door, and then
reaching on to the next bar, so that I was now several
feet away.
The wind seemed as if it would tear me from the
footboard, and I was obliged to keep my face away to
breathe, but I clung to the bar tightly, and watched
the fierce face that was thrust out of the door I had
left.
“Am I to come after you?†he roared. “Come
‘-back!â€
My answer was to creep past another door, to find
to my horror that this was the last, and that there
was a great gap between me and the next carriage.
What was I todo? Jump, with the train dashing
along at such a rate that it seemed as if I must be
shaken down or torn off by the wind.
I stared back horror-stricken and then uttered a ery
of fear, as the window I had just passed was thrown
open and a man leaned out.
“T’ll swear I heard someone shout,†he said to a
travelling companion, and he looked back along the
train. “ Yes,†he continued, “there’s someone three
compartments back looking out. Oh, he’s gone in now.
Wonder what it was!â€
Just then he turned his head in my direction, and
saw my white face.
I saw him start as I clung there just a little way
below him to his right, and within easy reach, and, for
I should think a minute, we stared hard at each other.
Then he spoke in a quiet matter-of-fact way.
“Don’t be scared, my lad,†he said; “it’s all right.
I can take hold of you tightly. Hold fast till I get
you by thearms. That’s it; now loose your right hand
COB’S ADVENTURE ON THE RAILWAY.
SAVED. 203
and take hold of the door; here pass it in. That's the
way; edge along. I’ve got you tight. Come along;
now the other hand in. That's the way.â€
I obeyed him, for he seemed to force me to by his
firm way, but the thought came over me, “Suppose he
is that man’s companion.†But even if he had been, I
was too much unnerved ‘to do anything but what he
bade me, so I passed one hand on to the window-frame
of the door, then edged along and stood holding on
with the other hand, for he had me as if his grasp
was a vice, and then his hands glided down to my
waist. He gripped me by my clothes and flesh, and
before I could realize it he had dragged me right in
through the window and placed me on the seat.
Then dragging up the window he sank back oppo-
site to me and cried to a gentleman standing in the
compartment:
“Give me a drop of brandy, Jem, or T shall faint!â€
I crouched back there, quivering and unable to speak.
I was so unnerved; but I saw the other gentleman
hand a flask to the bluff-looking man who had saved
me, and I saw him take a hearty draught and draw a
long breath, after which he turned to me.
“You young scoundrel!†he cried; “how dare you
give me such a fright!â€
I tried to speak, but the words would not come. I
was choking, and I believe for a minute I literally
sobbed.
“There, there, my lad,†said the other kindly,
“You're all right. Don’t speak to him like that now,
Jordan. The boy’s had a horrible scare.â€
“Scare!†said the big bluff man; “and so have I.
Why, my heart was in my mouth, I wouldn't go
through it again for a hundred pounds. How did you
come there, sir?â€
“Tet him be for a few minutes,†said the other
gently. “He'll come round directly, and tell us.â€
204 I COME ROUND.
I gave him a grateful look and held out my wet
hand, which he took and held in his.
“The boy has had a terrible shock,†he said. “He'll
tell us soon. Don’t hurry, my lad. There, be calm.â€
I clung to his hand, for he seemed to steady me,
my hand jerking and twitching, and a curious sensation
of horror that I had never felt before seeming to be
upon me; but by degrees this passed off, the more
quickly that the two gentlemen went on talking as if
I were not there.
“Tm so much obliged,†I said at last, and the big
bluff man laughed.
“ Don’t name it,†he said, nodding good-humouredly.
“ Five guineas is my fee.â€
I shivered.
“And my friend here, Doctor Brown, will have a
bigger one for his advice.â€
“ He’s joking you, my lad,†said the other gentleman
smiling. “I see you are not hurt.â€
“No, sir,†I said; “ [—â€
The trembling came over me again, and I could not
speak for a minute or two, but sat gazing helplessly
from one to the other. a
“Give him a drop of brandy,†said the big bluff
man,
“No, let him be for a few minutes; he’s mastering
it,†was the reply.
This did me good, and making an effort I said
quickly:
“A man in the carriage tried to rob me, and I got
on to the footboard and came along here.â€
“Then you did what I dare not have done,†said the
one who drageed me in. “But a pretty state of affairs
this On the railway, and no means of communi-
cating.â€
“ But there are means.â€
“Tchah! how was the poor lad to make use of them?
HE ESCAPES. 205
Well, we shall have the scoundrel, unless he gets out of
the train and jumps for it. We must look out when
we stop for taking the tickets. We shall not halt
before.â€
By degrees I grew quite composed, and told them all.
“Yes,†said my bie friend, “it was very brave of
you; but I think I should have parted with all I had
sooner than have run such a risk.â€
“Tf it had been your own,†said the other gentleman.
“Tn this case it seems to me the boy would have been
robbed, and probably thrown out afterwards upon the
line. I think you did quite right, my lad, but I should
not recommend the practice to anyone else.â€
-They chatted to me pleasantly enough till the train
began at last to slacken speed preparatory to stopping
for the tickets to be taken, and at the first symptom
of this my two new friends jumped up and let down
the windows, each leaning out so as to command a
view of the back of the train.
I should have liked to look back as well, but that
was impossible, so I had to be content to sit and listen;
but I was not kept long in suspense, for all at once
the quieter and more gentlemanly of my companions
exclaimed:
“T thought as much. He has just jumped off, and
run down the embankment. There he goes!â€
I ran to the side, and caught a glimpse of a figure
melting away into the darkness. Then it was gone.
“There goes all chance of punishing the scoundrel,â€
said the big bluff man, turning to me and smiling
good-temperedly. “I should have liked to catch him,
but I couldn’t afford to risk my neck in your service,
young man.â€
I thanked him as well as I could, and made up my
mind that if my father was waiting on the platform
he should make a more satisfactory recognition of the
services that had been performed.
206 THE JOURNEY’S END.
This did not, however, prove so easy as I had hoped,
for in the confusion of trying to bring them together
when I found my father waiting, I reached the spot
where I had left my travelling-companions just in time
to see them drive off in a cab.
CHAPTER XVIII
AGAINST THE LAW.
HE next day, after recounting plenty of my
adventures to my mother, but, I am afraid,
i dressing some of them up so that they
oe # should not alarm her, a letter reached me
from Unele Bob.
It was very short. He hoped I had reached town
safely, and found all well. The night had passed
quite quietly at the works, and he ended by saying:
“T took up the trap. All right!â€
That was a great relief to me, and made my stay in
town quite pleasant.
I went down to the old works with my father,
and it made me smile to see how quiet and orderly
everything was, and how different to the new line of
business we had taken up. The men here never
thought of committing outrages or interfering with
those who employed them, and I could not help think-
ing what a contrast there was between them and the
Arrowfield rough independence of mien.
My father questioned me a great deal about mat-
ters upon which my uncles had dwelt lightly, but I
found that he thoroughly appreciated our position
there and its risks.
“Not for another six months, Cob,†he said in
answer to an inquiry as to when he was coming down.
208 BACK AGAIN.
“You four must pacify the country first,†he added
laughing, “and have the business in good going order.â€
My visit was very pleasant, and I could not help
feeling proud of the treatment I received at home; but
all the same I was glad to start again for Arrowfield
and join my uncles in their battle for success.
For there was something very exciting in these
struggles with the men, and now I was away all this
seemed to be plainer, and the attraction grew so that
there was a disposition on my part to make those at
home quite at their ease as to the life I was leading
down at Arrowfield.
At last the day came for me to start on my return
journey, when once more I had a packet to bear.
“T need not tell you that it is of great value, Cob,â€
said my father. “Button it up in your pocket, and
then forget-all about it. That is the safest way. It
takes off all the consciousness.â€
“JT don’t suppose I shall meet my friend this time,â€
I said.
My father shuddered slightly.
“Tt is not likely,†he said; “but I should strongly
advise you to change carriages if you find yourself
being left alone with a stranger.â€
Word had been sent down as to the train I should
travel by, and in due time I found myself on the
Arrowfield platform and back at our new home, where
Mrs. Stephenson and Tattsey were ready with the most
friendly of smiles.
“Everything has been going on splendidly,†was the
report given to me. Piter had been carefully attended
to, and the works watched as well as if I had been at
Arrowfield.
I felt annoyed, and, I suppose, showed it, for it
seemed as if my uncles were bantering me, but the
annoyance passed off directly under the influence of the
warmth displayed by all three.
TONING DOWN. 209
“Tm beginning to be hopeful now that work will
go on steadily, that this watching can be given up,
and that we can take to a few country excursions,
some fishing, and the like.â€
That was Uncle Dick’s expressed opinion; and I was
glad enough to hear it, for though I did not mind the
work I liked some play.
Uncle Jack was just as hopeful; but Uncle Bob
evidently was not, for he gaid very little.
This time I had travelled by a day train, and I was
quite ready to take my turn at the watching that
night. Uncle Jack, whose turn it was, opposed my
going, as I had been travelling so far; but I insisted,
saying that I had had my regular night’s rest ever
since I had left them, and was consequently quite fresh.
I wanted to ask Uncle Bob where he had hidden
the trap, but I had no opportunity, and as neither
Uncle Dick nor Uncle Jack made any allusion to it I
did not start the subject.
Perhaps Uncle Bob had not told them, meaning to
have a few words with me first.
It almost seemed like coming home to enter the
works again, where Piter was most demonstrative in
his affection, and carried it to such an extent that I
could hardly get away.
I had a look round the gloomy old place at once,
and felt quite a thrill of pride in the faintly glowing
furnaces and machinery as I thought of the endless
things the place was destined to produce.
“Look here, Cob,†said Uncle Jack, “I shall lie down
for three hours, mind; and at the end of that time
you are to wake me. It is only nine o’clock now, and
you can get over that time with a book. There will
be no need to walk round the place.â€
“Would Piter warn us, do you think?†I said.
“Oh, yes! It is getting quite a form our being here.
The men are toning down.â€
(322) 0
210 PITER AND I.
He threw himself on the bed, and I took up a book
and read for an hour, after which I had a walk through
the gloomy workshops, and in and out of the fur-
nace-houses and smithies, where all was quiet as
could be.
After this I felt disposed to go and open the big
door and look down into the wheel-pit. JI don’t know
why, only that the place attracted me. I did not,
however, but walked back to the doorway to look at
the glow which overhung the town, with the heavy
canopy of ruddy smoke, while away behind me the
stars were shining brightly, and all was clear.
I patted Piter, who came to the full length of his
chain, and then I had a look about with the lantern to
see if I could find where Uncle Bob had put the
trap.
I felt that it must be under lock and key some-
where, but the cupboards had nothing to show, and,
try how I would, I could think of no likely place for
it to be hidden in. So I gave up the task of trying to
find it, and walked back to the door, where I found
Piter lying down hard at work trying to push his
collar over his head.
The patient, persevering way in which he tried, get-
ting both his forepaws against it, was most amusing,
the more so that there was not the slightest possibility
of success attending his efforts, for his neck, which the
collar fitted pretty closely, was small, and his bullet
head enormous by comparison.
“Come,’ I said, as I bent over him; “shall I undo it
for you?â€
He looked up at me as I put the dark lantern down,
and whined softly. Then he began working at the
collar again.
“Look here,†I said, as I sat on the bottom step.
“Shall I undo it?â€
Dogs must have a good deal of reason, for Piter
A NOISE IN THE NIGHT. 211
leaped up and laid his head in my lap directly, holding
it perfectly still while I unbuckled the strap collar,
when he gave a sniff or two at my hands, licked them,
and bounded off to have a regular good run all over
the place before he came back and settled down
close to me in the little office where I was trying to
read.
Twelve o'clock at last, and I awoke Uncle Jack, who
rose at once, fresh and clear as if he were amply rested,
and soon after I was fast asleep, dreaming away and
faneying I could hear the rattle and the throb of the
train. ‘Then I was talking to that man again, and then
swinging out on the carriage-door with the wind rush-
ing by, and the bluff man leaning out over me, and
Piter on the carriage with him, barking at my ageres-
sor, who was shrieking for mercy.
Then I was awake, to see that it was Uncle Jack
who was leaning over me, and the window was open,
admitting a stream of cold air and a curious yelling
noise, mingled with the barking of a dog.
“What is the matter?†I cried.
“That's what I want to know,’ said Unele Jack.
“T went with a candle, but the wind puffed it out.
Where did you put the lantern?â€
“ Lantern—lantern!†I said in a confused way, “did
I have it?â€
“Yes; you must have had it. Can’t you think?
_Gracious, what a noise! Piter must have got someone
by the throat.â€
“Oh, I know!†I cried as I grew more fully awake.
“On the shelf in the entry.â€
We ran down together, and a faint glow showed its
whereabouts, still alight, but with the dark shade
turned over the bull’s-eye.
“Where does the noise come from?†I said, feeling
startled at the alarming nature of the cries, freshly
awakened as I was from sleep.
212 CAUGHT FAST.
“T can hardly tell,†he said, seizing the lantern and
taking a sharp hold of his stick. “Bring a stick
with you, my boy, for there may be enemies in the
way.â€
Why, uncle,†I cried, “some poor creature has fallen
from the side path into the dam.â€
“Some wretched drunken workman then,†he said,
as we hurried in the direction, and there seemed to be
no doubt about it now, for there was the splashing of
water, and the ery of “Help!†while Piter barked more
furiously than ever.
We ran down to the edge of the dam, the light of the
bull’s-eye flashing and dancing over the ground, so that
we were able to avoid the different objects lying about;
and directly after the light played on the water, and
then threw into full view the figure of the bull-dog as
he stood on the stone edge of the dam barking furiously
at a man’s head that was just above the surface of the
water.
“Help! help!†he cried as we drew near, and then I
uttered a prolonged “Oh!†and stood still.
“Quiet, Piter! down, dog! can’t you see it is a
friend!â€
But the dog seemed to deny it, and barked more
furiously than ever.
“Quiet, sir! Here, Cob, lay hold of the lantern. Will
you be quiet, dog! Lay hold of him, Cob, and hold
him.â€
I obeyed in a half stupid way, holding the lantern
with one hand, as I went on my knees, putting my
arm round Piter’s neck to hold him back; and in that
way I struggled back from the edge, watching my
uncle as I made the light fall upon the head staring
wildly at us, a horrible white object just above the
black water of the dam.
“Help! help!†it cried. “Save me, Oh!â€
“Catch hold of the stick. That's right; now your
UNCLE JACK’S WONDER. 213
hand. Well done! What's holding you down? Have
you got your foot entangled? That's better: how did
you fall in?â€
As my uncle rapidly asked these questions he got
hold of the man, and dragged him on to the stone edge
of the dam, when there was a horrible clanking noise,
the rattle of a chain, the man uttered a hideous yell,
and as Piter set up a tremendous barking again I
turned off the light.
“Here, don’t do that,†cried my uncle.
T hardly know what induced me to turn off the light,
unless it was a shamefaced feeling on being, as 1
thought, found out. And yet it did not seem that I was
the guilty party. Uncle Bob had said he had taken up
the trap, and it was all right. He must have altered
his mind and set it again.
“That's better,†said my uncle as I turned on the
light once more; and then Piter made such a struggle
that I could not hold him. There was a bit of a scufile,
and he was free to rush at the man, upon whom he
fixed himself as he lay there howling and dripping
with water.
The man yelled again horribly, sprang up with Piter
holding on to him; there was the same horrible clank-
ing noise on the stones, and down he fell once more
groaning.
“Help! murder! take away the dorg, Oh, help!†he
cried.
“Good gracious! what is the matter?†cried Uncle
Jack, telling me what I knew. “The man’s leo’s ina
trap.â€
re sprang up again, for by main force Uncle Jack
had dragged Piter away with his mouth full of trouser
leg; but there were only two clanks and a sprawl, for
the poor wretch fell headlong again on the stones,
praying for mercy.
“Why, his leg’s ina great trap, and it’s held by a
214 “TRK IT OFF.â€
chain,†cried Uncle Jack. “Here, how came you in this
condition?â€
“Eh mester, aw doan know. Deed aw doan know,â€
the fellow groaned. “Hey, but it’s biting my leg off,
and I'll be a lame man to the end o’ my days.â€
“Why, it’s Gentles!†cried Uncle Jack, taking the
lantern from me, for I had enough to do to hold the
dog.
“Tek off the thing; tek off the thing,†groaned the
man. “It’s a cootin my leg i’ two, I tell’ee.â€
“Hold your noise, and don’t howl like that,†cried
Uncle Jack angrily, for he seemed to understand now
that the man must have climbed over into the yard
and been caught, though he was all the more surprised,
for quiet smooth-faced Gentles was the last man any-
one would have suspected.
“But I tell’ee its tekkin off my leg,†groaned the
man, and he mace another trial to escape, but was
checked by the peg driven tightly into the ground
between the stones, and he fell again, hurting himself
horribly.
“T shall be a dead man—murdered in a minute,†he
groaned. “Help! Oh, my poor missus and the bairns!
Tek off that thing, and keep away yon dorg.â€
“Look here,†said Uncle Jack, making the light play
on the poor wretch’s miserable face. “How came you
here?â€
“Your dorg flew at me, mester, and drove me int’
watter.â€
“Yes, exactly; but how came you in the yard?â€
“T Vknow, mester, I d’ know.â€
“T suppose not,†said Uncle Jack.
“Tek off that thing, mester; tek off that thing. It’s
most cootin off my leg.â€
I was ready to add my supplications, for I knew the
poor wretch must be in terrible agony; but I felt as if
I could not speak.
GENTLES IN DIFFICULTIES. 215
“Tl take it off by and by, when I know how you
came here.â€
“T tell’ee it’s ’gen the law to set they montraps,â€
cried the fellow in a sudden burst of anger, “and I'll
have the law o’ thee.â€
“IT would,†said Unele Jack, still making the light
play over the dripping ficure, and then examining the
trap, and tracing the chain to the peg. “Hullo!†he
cried, “what's this?â€
He was holdine the lantern close to a dark object
upon the ground quite close, and Gentles uttered a
fresh yell, bounded up, made a clanking noise, and fell
again groaning.
“Doan’t! doan’t! Thouw'lt blow us all to bits.â€
“Oh, it’s powder, then, is it?†eried Uncle Jack
“Hey, I d’know, mester, I d’know.â€
“Didn’t bring it with you, I suppose?†said Uncle
Jack.
“Nay, mester, I didn’t bring it wi’ me.â€
“Then how do you know it’s powder?â€
“Hey, I d’know it’s powder,†groaned the miserable
wretch. “It only looks like it. Tek off this trap thing.
Tek away the light. Hey, bud I'm being killed.â€
“Let me see,†said Uncle Jack with cool deliberation.
“You climbed over the wall with that can of powder and
the fuse.â€
“Nay, nay, mester, not me.â€
“And fell into a trap.â€
“Ves, mester. Tek it offâ€
“Where did you mean to put that can of powder?â€
“Nay, mester, [—â€
“Tell me directly,’ cried Uncle Jack, giving the
chain a drag and making Gentles yell out; “tell me
directly, or Pll pitch you into the dam.â€
Unele Jack’s manner was so fierce that the man
moaned out feebly:
“Tf I tell’ee wilt tek off the trap?â€
216 LET OUT.
“Perhaps I will. Speak out. Where did you mean
to put the powder can?â€
“Under big watter-wheel, mesteyr.â€
“ And fire the fuse?â€
«Yes, mester.â€
“ How long would it have burned?â€
“Twenty minutes, mester.â€
“Same length as the one that was run in the furnace-
house?â€
“Yes, mester.â€
“You cowardly scoundrel! You were in that too,
then,†eried Uncle Jack, going down on one knee and
seizing the man by the throat and shaking him till he
realized how horribly he was punishing him, when he
~ loosed his hold.
“Don’t kill me, mester. Oh, my wife and bairns!â€
“A man with a wife and children, and ready to do
such a dastardly act as that! Here, you shall tell me
this, who set you on?â€
The man set his teeth fast.
“Who set you on, I say?â€
“ Nay, mester, I canna tell,†groaned Gentles.
“But you shall tell,†roared Uncle Jack. “You shall
stay lire till you do.â€
“T can’t tell; I weant tell,†groaned the man.
“Well see about that,’ eried Uncle Jack. “Pah!
what a brute Tam! Hold the light, Cob. Piter! you
touch him if you dare. Let’s see if we can’t get this
trap open.â€
He took hold of it gently, and tried to place it flat
upon the stones, but the poor trapped wretch groaned
dismally till he was placed in a sitting posture with
his knee bent, when Piter, having been coerced into a
neutral state, Uncle Jack pressed with all his might
upon the spring while I worked the rine upon it half
an inch at a time till the jaws yawned right open and
Gentles’ leg was at liberty.
OUR HONEST WORKMAN. 217
He groaned and was evidently in great pain; but as
soon as it was off, his face was convulsed with passion,
and he shook his fists at Uncle Jack.
“Tl hev the law of ye for this here. I'll hev the
law of ye.â€
“Do,†said Uncle Jack, picking up the van of powder;
“and I shall bring this in against you. Let me see.
You confessed in the presence of this witness that
you came over the wall with this can of powder to
blow up our water-wheel so as to stop our works,
Mr. Gentles, I think we shall get the better of you
this time.â€
The man raised himself to his feet, and stood with
ereat difficulty, moaning with pain.
“Now,†said Uncle Jack, “ will you go back over the
wall or out by the gate.â€
“Tl pay thee for this. Ill pay thee for this,†hissed
the man.
Unele Jack took him again by the throat.
“Look here,†he said fiercely. “Have a care what
you are doing, my fine fellow. You have had a narrow
escape to-night. If we had not been carefully watch-
ing you would by now have been hanging by that
chain—drowned. Mind you and your cowardly sneak-
ing scoundrels of companions do not meet with some
such fate next time they come to molest us. Now go.
You can’t walk? There’s a stick for you. I ought to
break your thick skull with it, but Pm going to be
weak enough to give it to you to walk home. Go home
and tell your wife and children that you are one of the
most treacherous, canting, hypocritical scoundrels in
Arrowfield, and that you have only got your deserts if
you are lamed for life.â€
He gave Gentles his stick and walked with him to
the gate, which he unlocked and held open for him to
pass out groaning and suffering horribly.
“Good night, honest faithful workman!†he said;
218 LONG ODDS.
“friendly man who only wanted to be left alone. Do
you want your can of powder? No: Vl keep it asa
memento of your visit, and for fear you might have an
accident at home.â€
The man groaned again as he passed out and stag-
gered.
“Poor wretch!†said Uncle Jack, so that I alone
heard him. “Ignorance and brutality. Here,†he said
aloud, “take my arm. Il help you on to your house.
One good turn deserves another.â€
Uncle Jack went to him and took his stick in his
hand, when, fancying I heard something, I turned on
the light just in time to show Uncle Jack his danger,
for half a dozen men armed with sticks came out of
the shacow of the wall and rushed at him.
It was fortunate for him that he had taken back the
stout oak walking-stick that he made his companion
on watching nights, or he would have been beaten
down.
As it was he reccived several heavy blows, but he
parried others, and laid about him so earnestly that
two men went down, and another fell over Gentles.
By that time my uncle had retreated to the gate,
darted through, and banged and locked it in his
enemies’ face.
“Rather cowardly to retreat, Cob,’ he panted; “but
six to one are lone odds. Where's the powder can?â€
“JT have it, unele,†I said.
“ Ah, well, suppose you give it to me, or else the light!
The two don’t go well together. They always quarrel,
and it ends in what Mr. O’Gallagher in Perceval Keene
called a blow up.â€
I gave him the can, and then listened to the mutter-
ing of voices outside, half expecting that an attempt
might be made to scale the wall.
“No,†said Uncle Jack; “they will not do that. They
don’t make open attacks.â€
A MISTAKE IN TRAPS. 219
“Did you see who the others were?â€
“No, it was too dark. There, let’s get inside. But
about that trap. I won't leave it there.â€
I walked with him in silence, and lighted him while
he dragged the iron peg out of the ground, and carried
all back to the office, where he examined the trap, turn-
ing it over and over, and then throwing it heavily on
the floor.
He looked hard at me then, and I suppose my face
told tales.
“I thought so,†he said; “that was your game, Master
Cob.â€
“Yes,†I said; “but I thought it was taken up. I
told Uncle Bob to take it up when I went to Lon-
don.â€
“He thought you meant the trap of the drain,†cried
Unele Jack, roaring with laughter. “He had the brick-
layer to it, and said there was a bad smell, and it was
well cleaned out.â€
“Oh!†I exclaimed; “and J made sure that it was all
right again.â€
“How came you to set the trap there?â€
“T had seen marks on the wall,’ I said, “where
someone came over, but I never thought it could be
Gentles.â€
“No, my lad, one don’t know whom to trust here;
but how came you to think of that?â€
“Tt was the rat-trap set me thinking of it, and when
I made up my mind to do it I never thought it would
be so serious as it was. Are you very anery with me?â€
Uncle Jack looked at me with his forehead all in
wrinkles, and sat down on a high stool and tapped the
desk.
I felt a curious flinching as he looked so hard at me,
for Uncle Jack was always the most stern and uncom-
promising of my uncles. Faults that Uncle Dick
would shake his head at, and Uncle Bob say “I say,
220 SPRINGING A TRAP.
come, this won’t do, you know,†Uncle Jack would
think over, and talk about perhaps for two or three
days.
“T ought to be very angry with you, Cob,†he said.
“This was @ very rash thing to do. These men are
leading usa horrible life, and. they deserve any punish-
ment; “put there is the law of the land to punish evil-
deere and we are not allowed to take that law in our
own hands. You might have broken that fellow’s leg
with the trap.â€
“Yes, I see now,†I said.
“ As it is I expect you have done his leg serious in-
jury, and made him a worse enemy than he was before.
But that is not the worst part of it. What we want
here is co-operation—that’s a long word, Cob, but you
know what it means.â€
“ Working together,†I said.
“Of course. You are only a boy, but you are joined
with us three to mutually protect each other, and our
strencth lies in mutual dependence, each knowing
exactly what the other has done.â€
“Ves, I see that, Uncle,’ I said humbly.
“How are we to get on then if one of the legs on
which we stand—ye ou, sir, gives way? It lets the
whole machine down; it’s ruin to us, Cob.â€
“Vm very sorry, uncle.â€
“We are four. Well, suppose one of us gets spring-
ing a mine unknown to the others, what a position the
other three are in!â€
“Yes,†I said again. “J see it all now.â€
“You didn’t spring a mine upon us, Cob, but you
sprang a trap.â€
I nodded.
“Tt was a mistake, lad, though it has turned out all
right as it happened, and we have been saved from a
terrible danger; but look here, don’t do anything of the
kind again’
bo
bo
ee
ROUGH TIMES COMING.
“Shall you go to the police about this?†I said.
“No, and Im sure the others will agree with me.
We must be our own police, Cob, and take care of
ourselves; but Vm atraid we have rough times
coming.â€
CHAPTER XIX.
PANNELL SAYS NOTHING.
SSIETTER and better!†cried Uncle Dick,
waving a letter over his head one mor-
ning after the post had come in, “ All we
have to do is to work away. Our steel is
winning its way more and more in London, and there
is already a greater demand than we can supply.â€
“Tt seems funny too,†I said. “I went through
Norton’s works yesterday with Mr. Tomplin, and saw
them making steel, and it seemed almost exactly your
way.â€
“Ves, Cob,†said Uncle Dick, “almost. It’s that
trifling little difference that does it. It is so small
that it is almost imperceptible; but still it is enough
to make our steel worth half as much again as theirs.â€
“You didn’t show them the difference, did you, Cob?â€
said Uncle Jack, laughing.
“Why, how could [?â€
“Ah! I forgot; you don’t know. But never mind,
youll arrive at years of discretion some day, Cob, and
then you will be trusted with the secret.â€
“J consider that he could be trusted now,†eried
Unele Dick. “I am quite willing to show him when-
ever he likes) We make a fresh batch to-morrow.â€
“No,†I said; “I don’t want to be shown yet. I can
wait.â€
â€
GENTLES WALKS LAME. 223
“Is that meant sulkily, or is it manly frankness?â€
said Uncle Jack sharply.
“Oh, PH answer that,†replied Uncle Dick—* cer-
tainly not sulkily.â€
“I endorse that,†said Uncle Bob; and I gave them
both a grateful look.
“He shall learn everything we know,†said Dick.
“Tt is his right as his father’s son. If we have not
shown him sooner it is on account of his father’s
interests, and because we felt that a secret that means
property or nothing is rather a weighty one for a lad
of his years to bear. Well, once more, Cob, you will
not mind being left?â€
“No,†I said, “you will not be away many hours.
The men will hardly know that you have gone, and if
they were to turn disagreeable I'm sure Pannell would
help me.â€
“Oh, there’s no fear of any open annoyance,†said
Unele Jack; “the men have been remarkably quiet
since we caught Master Gentles. By the way, anyone
know how he is?â€
“I know,†I said. “I’ve seen Mrs. Gentles every
day, and he leaves the infirmary to-morrow.â€
“ Cured?â€
“Yes; only he will walk a little lame, that’s all, and
only for a month or two.â€
“Well, take care of the place, Cob,†said Uncle Jack.
“I don’t suppose the men will interfere with you, but
if they do you can retreat.â€
“If you thought they would interfere with me,†I
said, “you would not go.â€
They all laughed, and, as we had arranged, they left
the works one by one, and I went on just as usual,
looking in at one place, and then another, to see how
the men were going on, before returning to the office
and copying some letters left for me to do.
It was a month since the adventure with the trap,
224 “WANT ANOTHER TRAP?â€
and to see the men no one could have imagined that
there was the slightest discontent among them.
Pannell had said very little, though I had expected
he would; in fact he seemed to have turned rather
surly and distant to me. As for the other men, they
did ‘their work in their regular independent style, and
T had come to the conclusion that my best way was to
treat all alike, and not make special friends, especially
after the melancholy mistake I had made in putting
most faith in one who was the greatest scoundrel in
the place.
My uncles had gone to the next town to meet a firm
of manufacturers who had been making overtures that
seemed likely to be profitable, and this day had been
appointed for the meeting.
After a time I went into Pannell’s smithy, to find
him hammering away as earnestly as ever, with his
forehead covered with dew, his throat open, and his
shirt-sleeves rolled up, so as to give his great muscles
full play.
« Well,†he said all at once, “want another trap?â€
“No,†I said, smiling. “I say, Pannell, what did the
men think about it?â€
He opened his lips to speak, but closed them directly.
“No,†he said shortly; “won’t do. I’m on tother
side, you see.â€
“But you might tell me that,’ I cried. “I say, I
should as soon have thought of catching you as old
Gentles.â€
“Hush! say rat,†he whispered. “Don’t name names.
And say, lad, don’t talk about it. You don’t want to
get me knocked on the head?â€
“No, Pannell,†I said; “indeed I don’t. You're too
good a fellow.â€
“Nay, I’m not,†he said, shaking his head. “Ima
downright bad un.â€
“Not you.â€
PANNELL CAN’T SPEAK, 925
“Ay, but I am—reg’lar down bad un.â€
“What have you been doing?â€
“ Nowt,†he said; and he brought down his hammer
with a tremendous ‘bane as if he meant to make a full
stop at the end of his sentence.
“Then why are you a bad one?â€
He looked at me, then out of the window, then from
the door, and then back at me.
“Tm going to Lunnon to get work,†he said.
“No, don’t; we like you—you're such a good steady
workman. Why are you going?â€
“Don’t like it,†he said. “Man can’t do as he pleases.â€
“Uncle John says he can’t anywhere, and the mas-
ters are the men’s servants here.â€
“Nay, lad,†he whispered as he hammered away.
“Men’s worse off than the masters. Wuckman here
hev to do what the trade tells him, or hed soon find
out what was what. Man daren’t speak.â€
“For fear of getting into trouble with his mates?â€
“Nay, his mates wouldn’t speak. It’s the trade;
hish!â€
He hammered away for some time, and his skill with
his hammer fascinated me so that I stopped on watch-
ing him. A hammer to me had always seemed to be
a tool to strike straightforward blows; but Pannell’s
hammer moulded and shaped, and always seemed to
fall exactly right, so that a piece of steel grew into
form. And I believe he could have turned out of the
glowing metal anything of which a model had been
put before his eyes.
“Well,†I said, “I must go to my writing.â€
“Nay, stop a bit. We two ain’t said much lately.
They all gone to Redham?â€
“Yes; how did you know?â€
“Oh, we knows a deal. There aren’t much goes on as
we don’t know. Look ye here; I want to say summat,
lad, and I can’t—yes, I can.â€
322) P
226 LEFT ALONE,
“Well, say it, then,†I said, smiling at his eagerness.
“Going to—look here, there was a rat once as got
his leg caught in a trap.â€
“Yes, I know there was,†I replied with a laugh.
“Nay, it’s nowt to laugh at, lad. Rats has sharp
teeth; and that there rat—a fat smooth rat he were—
he said he’d bite him as set that trap.â€
“Pannell!†I cried, as a curious feeling of dread came
over me for a moment and then passed away.
“Ay, lad.â€
“You don’t mean to say that?â€
“Me!—I mean to say! Nay, lad, not me. I never
said nothing. "Tain’t likely!â€
I looked at him searchingly, but his face seemed to
turn as hard as the steel he hammered; and finding
that he would not say any more, I left him, to go
thoughtfully back to my desk and try to write.
But who could write situated as 1 was—left alone
with about thirty workmen in the place, any one of
whom might be set to do the biting in revenge for the
trap-setting? For there was no misunderstanding Pan-
nell’s words; they were meant as a sort of warning
for me. And now what was I to do?
I wished my uncles had not gone or that they had
taken me, and I nearly made up my mind to go fora
walk or run back home.
But it seemed so cowardly. It was not likely that
anyone would touch me there, though the knowledge
the men evidently had of their masters’ movements
was rather startling; and I grew minute by minute
more nervous.
“What a coward I am!†I said to myself as I began
writing, but stopped to listen directly, for I heard an
unusual humming down in the grinders’ shop; but it
ceased directly, and I heard the wheel-pit door close.
“Something loose in the gear of the great wheel,
perhaps,†I thought; and I went on writing.
I GROW NERVOUS. 227
All at once the idea came upon me, Suppose they
were to try and blow me up!
I slipped off my stool and examined all the papers
beneath my desk and in the waste-paper basket, and
then I felt so utterly ashamed that I forced myself
back into my seat and tried to go on writing.
But it was impossible. The day was bright and
sunny and the water in the dam was dancing and glit-
tering, for the wind was off the hills and blew the
smoke in the other direction—over the town. There
was a great patch of dancing light on the ceiling re-
- flected from the dam, and some flowers in the window
looked bright and sent out a sweet perfume; but I
could see nothing but men crawling in the dark with
powder-cans and. fuses; and to make myself worse, I
must go to Uncle Jack’s cupboard and look at the can
that we had found by Gentles that night, just as it
had been picked up, with a long fuse hanging out of
the neck and twisted round and round.
I went back after locking it up and taking out the
key, and after opening the window I stood looking out
to calm myself, wishing the while that I was right
away among the hills far from the noise of whirring
stones and “shrieking metal. I knew the sun was
shining there, and the grass was green, and the view
was spread out for miles; while from where I stood
there were the great black buildings, the tall shafts,
and close beneath me the dam which, in spite of the
sunshine, sugeested nothing but men coming down
from the head on rafts of wood to work some mis-
chief.
The situation became intolerable; I could not write;
I could not get calm by walking up and down; and
every time there was a louder noise than usual from
the upper or lower workshop I started, and the perspi-
ration came out upon my face,
What a coward! you will say.
228 I GET WORSE.
Perhaps so; but a boy cannot go through such ad-
ventures as fell to my lot and not have some trace
left behind.
I stood at last in the middle of the little office, and
thought of what would be the best thing to do.
Should I run away?
No; that would be too cowardly.
I came to the right conclusion, I am sure, for I
decided to go and face the danger, if there was any;
for I said to myselt, “ Better to see it coming than to
be taken unawares.â€
Now, please, don’t think me conceited. In place of
being conceited, I want to set down modestly and
truthfully the adventures that befell me while my lot
was cast among a number of misguided men who, bound
together in what they considered a war against their
masters, were forced by their leaders into the perfor-
mance of deeds quite opposed to their ordinary na-
ture. It was a mad and foolish combination as
then conducted, and injured instead of benefiting their
class.
Urged by my nervous dread of coming danger, J, as
T have said, determined to see it if I could, and so be
prepared; and in this spirit I put as bold a face on the
matter as possible, and went down the long workshop
where the men were erinding and working over the
polishing wheels, which flew round and put such a
wonderful gloss upon a piece of metal.
Then I went down and into the furnace-house, where
the fires were glowing, and through the chinks the
blinding glare of the blast-fed flame seemed to flash
and cut the gloom.
The men there gave me a civil nod, and so did the
two smiths who were forging knives, while, when
I went next into Pannell’s smithy, feeling all the more
confident for having made up my mind to action, the
big fellow stared at me.
MORE CONFIDENT. 229
“ Yow here agen?†he said.
“Men
“Well, don’t stay, lad; and if I was you I should
keep out of wet grinders’ shop.â€
“Why?†I said.
He banged a piece of steel upon his anvil, and the
only answers I could get from him were raps of the
hammer upon the metal; so I soon left him, feeling
highly indignant with his treatment, and walked
straight to his window, stepped up on the bench, and
looked down, wondering whether it would be any good
to fish from there.
The water after some hours’ working was much
lower, so that a ledge about nine inches wide was laid
bare and offered itself as a convenient resting-place;
but I thought I would not fish while my uncles were
away, especially since they had left me in charge.
So I walked right to the very place I had been
warned to avoid, and found the men as busy as usual,
and ready enough to say a few civil words.
And so the afternoon wore away, and telling myself
that I had been scared at shadows, I felt a great
deal more confident by tea-time when the men were
leaving.
I sat in the office then as important as if I were the
master, and listened to their leaving and crossing the
yard. I could hear them talking to the gate-keeper,
and then I fancied I heard a rustling noise outside the
building, but it was not repeated, and I began listening
to the last men going, and soon after, according to his
ee old Dunning the gatekeeper came to bring his
ey.
I heard the old fellow’s halting step on the stairs,
and trying to look very firm I answered his tap with
a loud and important “Come in!â€
“ All gone, Mester Jacob, sir,’ he said. “I s’pose
you'll tek a look round?’
230 I HEAR OF A THREAT.
“Yes; I'll do that, Dunning,†I replied.
f Then, good-nicht, sir!â€
“One moment, “Dunning,†I cried, as he turned to
go. “I know you don’t mix with the quarrels between
masters and men.â€
“Not I, Mester Jacob. I just do my bit o work
here, which just suits me, being a worn-out sort o’ man,
and then goes back home to my tea and my garden.
You've nivver seen my bit o’ garden, Mester Jacob, sir.
You must come.â€
“To be sure I will, Dunning; but tell me, how do
the men seem now?â€
“ Bit tired, sir. End o’ the day’s wuck.â€
“No, no; I mean as to temper. Do you think they
are settling down?â€
“O ay; yes, sir. They'd be quiet enew if the trade
would let ’em alone.â€
“No threats or anything of that sort?â€
“Well, you see, sir, ’ve no right to say a word,†he
replied, sinking his voice. “If they thought I was a
talker, mebbe they’d be falling upon me wi’ sticks; but
you've always been a kind and civil young gentleman
to me, so I will tell you as Gentles says he means to
pay you when he gets a chance.â€
“Then I must keep out of Mr. Gentles’s way,†I
said, laughing outside, for I felt very serious in.
“Ay, but that arn’t it, Mester Jacob, sir,†said
old Dunning, to make me more comfortable. “You
see, sir, you nivver know where to hev a man like that.
He might hit at you wi’ his own fisty, but it’ gs moren
likely as he'll do 1t wi’ some one else's, or wi’ a clog or
a knobstick. You can nivver tell. Good- -night, Mester
Jacob, sir. Keep a sharp look-out, sir, and so will JI,
for I shouldn’t like to see a nice well-spoken youne
gentleman like you spoiled.â€
I followed Dunning down to the gate, and turned
the key after him, feeling horribly alarmed.
ALL SEEMS SAFE. 231
Spoiled—not like to see a boy like me spoiled.
What did spoiling mean? I shuddered at the thought,
and though for a moment I thought of rushing out
and getting home as quickly as I could, there was a
sort of fear upon me that a party of men might be
waiting at one of the corners ready to shoot me.
“T must wait a bit, and get cool,†I said; and then
looking about me, I shivered, for the great works
looked strange and deserted, there was a horrible still-
ness in the place, and I had never felt so lonely and
unpleasantly impressed even when watching in the
middle of the night.
Just then there was a whine and a bark, and Piter
gave his chain a jerk.
There was society for me at all events, and, going
to the kennel, I unhooked the spring swivel and set
the dog free, when, as usual, he showed his pleasure by
butting his great head at me and trying to force it
between my legs.
I was used to it and knew how to act, but with a
stranger it would have been awkward and meant
sittine down heavily upon the dog unless he leaped
out of the way.
Of course I did not sit down on Piter, but lifted a
leg over him, and as soon as he had become steady
made a sort of inspection of the place to see that no-
thing was wrong, feeling that it was a sort of duty to
do, as I was left alone.
Piter kept close to me, rubbing my leg with one car
as we went all over the place, and as I found no powder
cans and fuses, no bottles full of fulminating silver, or
any other deadly implement, my spirits rose and I
began to laugh at myself for my folly.
There was only the lower workshop with its grind-
stones to look through, and lit up as it was by the
evening sun there did not seem to be anything very
terrible there. The floor was wet, and the stones and
232 THE WHEEL-PIT.
their frames and bands cast broad shadows across the
place and on the opposite wall, but nothing seemed to
be wrong, only I could hear the hollow echoing plash
of the water falling from the wheel sluice down into
the stone-walled pit.
There was nothing new in this, only that it seemed
a little plainer than usual, and as I looked I saw that
the door had been left open.
That was nothing particular, but I went on to close
it, not being able to see the bottom, the view being cut
off by a great solid bench in the middle of the floor.
On passing round this, though, I saw that there was
something wrong; two or three bands had gone from
as many grindstones, and had evidently been hastily
thrown into the wheel-pit, whoever had done this
having left one on the floor, half in and half out, and
keeping the door from shutting close.
«That couldn’t be Gentles,†I said aloud as I threw
back the door, and my words echoed in the great black
place, where the sunlight was cutting the shadow in a
series of nearly horizontal rays as it came in past the
wheel.
T could see at a glance the amount of the mischief
done: one band was evidently down in the water, and
hung hitched in some way on to the band upon the floor.
It had been intended to be dragged in as well, but it
had caught against the iron of the rail that surrounded
the bracket-like platform the width of the door and
projecting over the water, which was ten feet below.
I recalled standing upon it to catch eels, when I
contrived to catch the lost bands as well, and thinking
that perhaps after all there were several of the straps
sunken below me, I stooped down, took hold of the
band, and pulled.
It would not come, being caught somehow at the
edge of the platform; so gathering it closely in my
hands rather unwillingly, for it was a wet oily aflair,
\ \
ey ‘i fis} S boa
ay eae
PET NFS
Lita
A PLUNGE INTO THE WHEEL-PIT.
A ROWLAND FOR AN OLIVER. 233
I stepped on to the platform, uttered a shriek, and fell
with a tremendous splash into the water below. I
felt the platform give way, dropping at once from
beneath my feet, and though I snatched at it my
hands glided over the boards in an instant and I was
down amidst a tangle of bands in the deep black water.
wa
CHAPTER XX.
A COMPANION IN TROUBLE.
CAN’T tell you the horrors of those mo-
ments as they appeared to me. No descrip-
tion could paint it all exactly; but one
moment I was down in darkness with the
current thundering in my ears, the next I was up at the
surface beating and splashing, listening to the echoing
of the water, which sounded hollow and strange, look-
ing up at the sunshine that streamed in past the wheel,
and then I went under.
Té is a strange admission to make, but in those first
few moments of surprise and horror I forgot that I
knew how to swim, and all my movements were in-
stinctive and only wearied and sent me down again
after I had risen.
Then reason came to my help, and I began to strike
out slowly and swam to the side of the great stone
chamber, passing one hand along the slimy wall trying
to get some hold, but finding none; and then swimming
straight across to the other side and trying there, for
I dared not approach the wheel, which looked horrible
and dangerous, and I felt that if I touched it the great
circle would begin to revolve, and perhaps take me
down under the water, carry me up on the other side,
and throw me over again.
Tt looked too horrible, all wet, slimy, and dripping
THE HORRORS. 235
as it was, or possibly I might have climbed up it and
reached the edge of the dam, so I swam right beyond
it and felt along the other side, but without avail.
There was nothing but the slimy stonework, try
where I would, and the chill of horror began to have a
numbing effect on my arms.
I swam on toand fro beneath the doorway, with the
little platform hanging by one end far above my head,
and once as I swam my foot seemed to touch some-
thing, which might have been a piece of the sunken
wood or iron work, but which made me shrink as if
some horrible monster had made a snatch at me.
I shouted, but there was only the hollow echoing of
the stone chamber and the lapping and whispering of
the water; and, knowing that I was alone locked in
the works, the terrible idea began to dance before me
that I was going to die, for unless I could save myself
I need not expect help.
The thought unnerved me more and more and made
me swim more rapidly in the useless fashion I was
pursuing, and once more I stared in a shrinking way
at the great wheel, which, innocent enough in itself,
seemed a more terrible engine than ever. I knew it
would move if I swam across and elung to it, and I
really dared not go near.
There was always something repellent and strange
even in a big water cistern in a house, and as a mere
boy 1 have often started back in terror at the noise
made by the pipes when the water was coming driving
the air before it with a snorting gurele, and then
pouring in, while to climb up a ladder or set of steps
and look down into the black watery place always
gave me a shudder and made me glad to get away.
It is easy to imagine, then, what my feelings were,
suddenly cast into that great stone-walled place, with
I did not know what depth of water beneath me, and
inhabited as I knew by large twining eels.
236 IN PERIL OF DEATH.
I daresay the eels were as much afraid of me as I
was of them; but that made no difference to my feel-
ings as I swam here and there trying in vain for some-
thing to which to cling; but in the darkest parts as
well as the lightest it was always the same, my hand
glided over the stones and splashed down again into
the water.
I was too much confused to think much, and moment
by moment I was growing more helpless. I can re-
member making a sort of bound to try and get a hold
of the broken platform above my head, but the effect
of that effort was only to send me below the surface.
I can recall, too, thinking that if I let my feet down
I might. find bottom, but this I dared not do for fear of
what might be below; and so, each moment growing
more feeble, I stared at the opened doorway through
which I had come, at the iron-barred grating through
which the water escaped, and which was the entrance
toa tunnel or drain that ran beneath the works. Then
I turned my eyes up at the sunlit opening through
which seemed to come hope surrounding the black
tooth-like engine that was hung there ready to turn
and grind me down.
My energy was nearly exhausted, the water was
above my lips, and after a wild glare round at the
slimy walls the whispering lapping echoes were
changed for the thunderous roar and confusion felt by
one plunged beneath the surface; and im my blind
horror I began beating the water frantically in my
last strugele for life.
Natural instinct seems to have no hesitation in seiz-
ing upon the first help that comes. It was so here. I
might have swum to the wheel at first and clung to it,
but I was afraid; but now, after going under once or
twice—I’m sure I don’t know which—I came up in
close proximity to the great mass of slimy wood-
work, one of my hands touched it, the other joined it
CLINGING TO THE WHEEL, 237
directly, and I clung panting there, blind, confused,
helpless, but able to breathe.
Almost at the same moment, and before I knew
what I was holding on by, there came a sound which.
sent hope and joy into my heart. It was the whim-
pering whine of Piter, who directly after set up a short
yappine kind of bark, and I had a kind of idea that
he must be somewhere on the woodwork inside the
wheel.
I did not know that he had fallen in at the same
time as I; and though once or twice I had heard him
whining, I did not realize that he was also in danger;
in fact the horrible overwhelming selfishness of the
desire for self-preservation had swept away everything
but the thought of how I was to get out of my trouble.
Every moment now gave me a little confidence,
though it was nearly driven away when, able to see
clearly again, I found myself holding on by one of the
wooden pocket-like places formed with boards on the
outer circumference of the engine—the places in fact
into which, when the sluice was opened, the water
rushed, and by its weight bore the wheel round.
After a few minutes’ clinging there, beginning to
feel numbed and chilled by the cold, I realized that
the sun was setting, that the patches of light were
higher, and that in a very few minutes the horrors of
this place would be increased tenfold by my being
plunged in profound darkness.
I dreaded moving, but I knew that the water could
not come down upon me unless the sluice was opened,
and that was turned off when the men left work, so
that the water was saved for the next day, and the
wheel ceased to turn. I determined then to try and
climb up from pocket to pocket of the wheel and so
reach the stone-race at the opening, along which the
water poured.
My courage revived at this, and drawing my legs
238 MY POSITION AND GENTLES’,
under me I got them upon one of the edges of the
pocket beneath the water, raised myself up and caught
hold of one higher than I had hold of before, and was
about to take a step higher when, to my horror, the
huge wheel began to feel the effect of my weight, and
gradually the part I held descended.
At the same moment there was a loud splash, a
beating of the water, a whining barking noise, and I
knew I had shaken Piter off the bar or spoke to which
he had been clinging inside.
“Here, Piter; here dog,†I shouted; and he swam
round to me, whining piteously and seeming to ask me
for help.
This I was able to give him, for, holding tightly
with one hand, I got my right arm round him and
helped him to scramble up into one of the pockets,
though the effort had weighed down the wheel and I
sank deeper in the water.
I made another trial to climb up, but though the
resistance of the great wheel was sufficient to support
me partly it soon began to revolve, and I knew that it
would go faster if I tried to struggle up.
I heaved a despairing sigh, and for the first time
began to think of Gentles.
“This must be his doing,’ I said to myself. He had
set some one to take out the support of the little plat-
form, and I was obliged to own that after all he had
only set a trap for me just as I had set one for him.
Still there was a great difference: he was on his way
to do harm when he was caught—I was engaged in my
lawful pursuits and trying to do good,
T had another trial, and another, but found it would,
in my exhausted state, be impossible to climb up, and
as I clung there, up to my chest in the water, and with
the dog close to me, he whined piteously and licked
my face.
The next minute he began to bark, stood up with
LOSING HOPE. 239
his hind feet on the edge of one bar, his fore paws on
the one above, and made a bound.
To my surprise he reached his aim, and his weight
having no effect on the wheel, he scrambled up and up
till I knew he must have reached the top.
There was no doubt about it.
The next minute I heard the rattling shaking noise
made by a dog when getting rid of the water in its
coat. Then a loud and joyous barking. Then only the
dripping, plashing sound of the water that escaped
through the sluice and came running in and falling
about the wheel.
What time was it? About half-past six, and the
men would not come to work till the next morning.
Could I hang there till then?
I knew it was impossible—that in perhaps less than
half an hour I should be compelled to loose my hold
and fall back into the black water without strength
to stir a paralysed arm.
T shouted again and again, but the walls echoed back
my cry, and I knew it was of no use, for it was im-
possible for any one to hear me outside the place. Jt
was only wasting strength, and that was wanted to
sustain me as long as possible.
There was one hope for me, though: my uncles
would be returning from Redham at ten or eleven
o'clock, and, not finding me at home, they would come
in search of me.
When it is too late!
I must have said that aloud, for the word late came
echoing back from the wall, and for a time I hung
there, feeling numbed, as it were, in my head, and as
slow at thinking or trying to imagine some way of
escape as I was at movement.
But I made one more eftort.
It seemed to be so pitiful that a wretched, brainless
dog, when placed in a position like this, should be able
240 NEARLY DONE.
to scramble out, while I, with the power of thinking
given to me, with reason and some invention, was
perfectly helpless.
This thought seemed to send a current like electricity
through me, nerving me to make another effort, and
loosening one hand I caught at the bar above me as
before, changed the position of my feet, and began to
climb.
I gave up with a groan, for I was only taking the
place of the water and turning the wheel just as a
turnspit dog would work, or a squirrel in its cage,
only that I was outside the wheel and they would have
been in.
I came down with a splash; and as I clung there I
could hear the water go softly lapping against the wall
and whispering in the corners as if it were talking to
itself about how soon I should have to loose my hold,
sink down, and be drowned.
I was weakened by this last effort as well as by the
strain upon my nerves, and as the water ceased to lap
and whisper a horrible silence crept down into the place
in company with the darkness. Only a few minutes
before all was bright where the sun rays flashed in;
now there was only a soft glow to be seen, and all
about me black gloom.
T grew more and more numbed and helpless, and but
for the fact that I hung there by my hands being
crooked over the edge of the board across the wheel, I
believe I must have fallen back, but my fingers stiffened
into position and helped me to retain my hold, till at
last they began to give way. :
I had been thinking of home and of my uncles, and
wondering how soon they would find me, and all ina
dull nerveless way, for 1 suppose I was too much ex-
hausted to feel much mental or bodily pain, when all
at once I began to recall stories I had read about the
St. Bernard dogs and the travellers in the snow; and
HELP WHERE NOT EXPECTED. 241
‘then about the shepherds’ collies in the north and the
intelligence they displayed.
Several such tales came to my memory, and I was
just thinking to myself that they were all nonsense,
for if dogs ‘had go much intelligence, why had not
Piter, who had a head big enough for a double share
of dogs’ brains, gone and fetched ‘somebody to help me,
instead of making his own escape, and then going and
curling himself up by one of the furnaces to get dry—
a favourite place of his if he had the chance.
Just then, as I seemed to be half asleep, I heard a
sharp bark at a distance, then another nearer, and
directly after Piter was on the top of the wheel, where
he had stepped from the sluice trough, barking with
all his might.
“ Wheer is he then, boy? wheer is he then?†said a
gruff hoarse voice.
Piter barked more furiously than ever, and the glow
seemed to give way to darkness overhead, as the voice
muttered:
“Dear, dear! Hey! think o’ that now. Mester Jacob,
are you theer?â€
“Help!†I said, so faintly that I was afraid I should
not be heard.
“Wheerabouts? In the watter?â€
“T’m—on—the wheel,†I cried weakly, and then, as
I heard the sound of someone drawing in his breath,
I strove to speak once more and called out:
“Turn the wheel.â€
It began to move directly, but taking me down into
the water, and I uttered a ery, when the wheel turned
in the other direction, drawime me out and up. My
arms straightened out; I was drawn closer to the
wood-work. I felt that I should slip off, when my toes
rested upon one of the bars, while, as I rose higher, the
tension on my arms grew less, and then less, and at last,
instead of hanging, “Twas lying upon my chest. Then
(322. Q
242, IN THE STOKE-HOLE.
a pair of great hands laid hold of me, and Piter was
licking my face.
Pannell told me afterwards that he had to carry me
all along the narrow stone ledge to the window of his
smithy, and thrust me through there before climbing
in after me, for it was impossible to get into the yard
the other way without a boat.
I must have fainted, I suppose, for when I opened
my eyes again, though it was in darkness, the icy
water was not round me, but I was lying on the warm
ashes down in one of the stoke-holes; and the faint
glow of the half-extinct fire was shining upon the shiny
brown forehead of the big smith.
“Pannell!†I exclaimed, “where am I?â€
“Get out!†he growled. “Just as if yow didn’ know.â€
“Did you save me?â€
“’Sh, will yo!†he whispered. “How do we know
who’ a watching an’ listening? Yow want to get me
knobsticked, that’s what yow want.â€
“No, no,’ I said, shivering.
“Vow know where we are, 0’ course. Down in the
big stokul; but be quiet. Don’t shout.â€
“How did you know I was in there?â€
«What, in yonder?â€
«Yes, of course; oh how my arms ache and throb!â€
“Let me give ‘em a roob, my lad,†he said; and
strongly, but not unkindly, he rubbed and seemed to
knead my arms, especially the muscles above my elbows,
talking softly in a gruff murmur all the while.
“JT did give you a wink, lad,†he said, “for I know’d
that some’at was on the way. I didn’ know what, nor
that it was so bad as that theer. Lor’ how can chaps
do it! Yow might hev been drowned.â€
“Ves,†I said with a shiver. “The cowards!â€
“Eh! don’t speak aloud, lad. How did you get in?
Some un push thee?â€
“Push me! no; the platform was broken loose, and
WHAT PITER DID. 243
a trap set for me, baited with a wheel-band,†I added
angrily.
Pannell burst into a laugh, and then checked himself.
“T weer not laughing at yow, lad,†he whispered,
“but at owd Gentles. So yow got in trap too?â€
“Trapped! yes; the cowardly wretches!â€
“Ay, twere cowardly. LuckyI came. Couldn’t feel
bottom, eh?â€
“No.â€
“Nay, yow wouldn’t; there’s seven foot o’ watter
there, wi’out mood.â€
“How did you know I was there?â€
“What! didn’ I tell ye?â€
“No.â€
“JT were hanging about like, as nigh as I could for
chaps, a waitin’ to see yow go home; but yow didn’t
coom, and yow didn’t coom; and I got crooked like wi
waiting, and wondering whether yow’d gone another
way, when all at once oop comes the bull poop fierce
like, and lays holt o’ me by the leg, and shakes it hard.
I was going to kick un, but he’d on’y got holt of my
trowsis, and he kep on’ shacking. Then he lets go and
barks and looks at me, and takes holt o’ my trowsis
agin, and hangs away, pulling like, till I seemed to
see as he wanted me to coom, and I followed him.â€
“Good old Piter!†I said; and there was a whine.
I did not know it, but Piter was curled up on the warm
ashes close by me, and as soon as he heard his name
he put up his head, whined, and rapped the ashes with
his stumpy tail.
“He went to the wucks fast as he could, and slipped
in under the gate; but I couldn’t do that, you see, Mes-
ter, and the gate was locked, so I was just thinking
what Td best do, and wondering where you might be,
when I see Stivens come along, looking as if he’d like
to howd my nose down again his grindstone, and that
made me feel as if I'd like to get one of his ears in my
244 WATCHED.
tongs, and his head on my stithy. He looked at me,
and I looked at him, and then I come away and waited
till he’d gone.â€
“Tt seemed as if help would never come,†I said.
“ Ay, it weer long time,†said Pannell; “but I found
no one about at last, and I slipped over the wall.â€
“Ves, and | know where,†| said.
“And there was Piter waiting and wanting me to
follow him. But there was no getting in—the doors
were locked. I seemed to know, though, that the dog
wanted to get me to the wheel-pit, and when I tried
to think how to get to you I found there was no way
‘cept through my forge. So I got out o my window,
and put the dorg down, and—well, came. Arn’t much
of a fire here, but if I blow it up Stivens or some on
’em will hear it, or see it, or something; and I s’pose I
shall have it for to-night’s work.â€
I did feel warmer and better able to move, and at
last I rose to make the best of my way back.
“Nobody will notice my wet things,†I said, “now
it’s dark. I don’t know what to say to thank you,
Pannell.â€
“Say Iwas a big boompkin for meddling ower what
didn’t consarn me. If I don’t come to wuck to-morrow
youll know why.â€
“No; 1 shall not,†I cried wonderingly.
“Ah, then, youll have time to find out,’ he mut-
tered. “Good-night, lad!â€
“Stop a moment and I’ll open the gate,†I eried.
“ Nay, I shall go out as 1 come in. Mayn’t be seen
then. Mebbe the lads'll be watching by the gate.â€
He stalked out, and as I followed him I saw his tall
gaunt figure going to the corner of the yard where the
trap was set, and then there was a scufiling noise, and
he had gone.
I left the place soon after, and as I fastened the
gate I fancied I saw Stevens and a man who limped
NOT BEATEN BY FEAR. 245
in his walk; but I could not be sure, for the gas lamp
cast but a very feeble licht, and I was too eager to get
home and change my things to stop and watch.
The run did me good, and by the time I had ona
dry suit I was very little the worse for my immersion,
beimg able to smile as I told my uncles at their re-
turn.
They looked serious enough, though, and Uncle Jack
said it was all owing to the trap.
The question of putting the matter in the hands
of the police was again well debated, but not carried
out—my uncles concluding that it would do no good
even if the right man were caught, for in punishing
him we should only have the rest who were banded
together more bitter against us.
“ Better carry on the war alone,†said Uncle Dick;
“we must win in the end.â€
“Tf we are not first worn out,†said the others.
“Which we shall not be,†cried Unele Dick, laughing.
“There are three of us to wear out, and as one gets
tired it will enrage the others; while when all three
of us are worn out we can depute Cob to carry on the
war, and he is as obstinate as all three of us put
together.â€
They looked at me and laughed, but I felt too much
stirred to follow their example.
“Tt is too serious,’ I said, “to treat like that; for I
am obstinate now much more than I was, and I should
like to show these cowards that we are not going to be
frightened out of the town.â€
“Cob don’t know what fear is,’ said Uncle Jack
with a bit of a sneer.
“Indeed but I do,†I replied. “I was horribly fright-
ened when I fell into that place; but the more they
frighten me, the more I want for us to make them
feel that we are not to be beaten by fear.â€
“Bravo!†cried Uncle Bob, clapping his hands.
246 WE SEE SOMEONE.
“There! let’s go on with our work,†said Uncle Dick;
“we must win in the end.â€
To have seen the works during the next few days,
anyone would have supposed that there had never
been the slightest trouble there. After due consider-
ation the little platform had been replaced and the
bands taken from the grindstone gear duly put in
position, the men taking not the slightest notice, but
working away most industriously.
Pannell, however, did not come back, and his forge
was cold, very much to my uncles’ annoyance. On
inquiry being made we were told that his mother was
dying, and that he had been summoned to see her.
I felt a little suspicious, but could hardly believe
that anything was wrong, till one evening Uncle Jack
proposed that we two should have a walk out in the
country for a change.
Iwas only too glad, for the thought of getting away
from the smoke and dirt and noise was delightful.
So as to get out sooner we took a short cut and were
going down one of the long desolate-looking streets of
rows of houses all alike, and built so as to be as ugly
as possible, when we saw on the opposite side a man
seated upon a door-step in his shirt-sleeves, and with
his head a good deal strapped and bandaged.
“That's one of the evils of a manufacturing trade
where machinery is employed,†said Uncle Jack. “I’m
afraid that, generally spca‘sing, the aczidents are occa-
sioned by the men’s carelessness or bravado; but even
then it is a painful thing to know that it is your
machinery that has mutilated a poor fellow. That
poor fellow has been terribly knocked about, seem-
ingly.â€
“Yes,†I said, looking curiously across the road.
“So far we have been wonderfully fortunate, but—
here, this way! where are you going?â€
“Over here,’ I said, already half across the road;
PANNELL’S PAYMENT. 247
for the brawny arms and long doubled-up legs of the
man seemed familiar.
“Why?†cried Uncle Jack; but he followed me
directly.
“Pannell!†I exclaimed.
“What, Mester Jacob!†he cried, lifting up his head
with his face in my direction, but a broad bandage
was over his eyes.â€
“Why, what’s all this?†I cried; “have you had
some accident?â€
“Yes, met wi’ acciden’ done o’ purpose.â€
“But they said your mother was dying,†I cried as I
held the great hard hand, which was now quite clean.
“Ay, so I heard say,†replied the great fellow.
“Ts she better?â€
“Better! well, she ain’t been badly.â€
“Not dying?†said Uncle Jack.
“What's that yow, Mester?†said Pannell. “Sarvice
to you, sir. My mother!—dying! Well, I suppose she
be, slowly, like the rest of us.â€
“But what have you been doing?†I cried. “What
a state you are in!â€
“State I’m in! Yow should have seen me a fortnit
ago, my lad. I’m splendid now—coming round fast.â€
“But how was it?†cried Uncle Jack, while I turned
white as I seemed to see it all.
“How was it, Mester!†said Pannell laughing. “Well,
you see, I weer heving bit of a walluck, wi my pipe
in my mooth, and it being bit dusk like that night I
didn’t see which way I were going, and run my head
again some bits o’ wood.â€
“Sticks!†I said excitedly.
He turned his head towards me smiling.
“Couldn’t see rightly as to that, Mester Jacob,†he
said; “I dessay they weer.â€
“And a set of cowards had hold of them!†I cried.
“Nay, I can’t say,†replied the great fellow. “Yow
248 PATIENCE.
see, Mester, when owt hits you on the head it wuzzles
you like, and you feel maazed.â€
Uncle Jack stood frowning.
“You know very well, Pannell,†I cried angrily,
“that you have been set upon by some of these trea-
cherous cowards for helping me that evening. Oh,
Unele Jack!†I cried, passionately turning to him,
“why don’t you go to the police?â€
“Howd thee tongue, lad!†cried Pannell fiercely.
“Yow don’t know nowt about it. Don’t yow do nowt
o t’ sort, Mester. Let well alone, I say.â€
“But I cannot stand still and see these outrages
committed,†said Uncle Jack in a low angry voice.
“Hey, but thou'lt hev to, ’less you give up maakin’
ventions. Trade don’t like ’em, and trade will hev
its say.â€
“But that you should have been so brutally used for
doing a manly action for this boy,†began Uncle
Jack.
“Theer, theer, theer,†said Pannell; “I don’t kick agen
it. I s’pected they’d do some’at. I know’d it must
coom. Chap as breaks the laws has to tek his bit o’
punishment. Chaps don’t bear no malice. I’m comin’
back to work next week.â€
“Look here,†said Uncle Jack, who was a good deal
moved by the man’s calm patience, “what are we to
do to come to terms with the workmen, and have an
end to these outrages?â€
“Oh, that’s soon done,†replied Pannell, rubbing one
great muscular arm with his hand, “yow’ve just got to
give up all contrapshions, and use reg’lar old-fashioned
steel, and it'll be all right.â€
“And would you do this, my man?†said Uncle Jack,
looking down at the great muscular fellow before him.
“Ay, I'd do it for sake o’ peace and quiet. I should
nivver go agen trade.â€
“And you would advise me to give up at the com-
KNOBSTICKED, 249
mand of a set of ignorant roughs, and make myself
their slave instead of master.â€
“Mester Jacob,†said Pannell, “I can’t see a bit wi’
this towel round my head; look uppards and downards;
any o’ the chaps coming?â€
“No,†I said.
“Then look here, Mester, I will speak if I nivver do
again. No, I wouldn’t give up if I was you, not if
they did a hundred worse things than they've done
yet. Theer!â€
Uncle Jack looked down on the man, and then said
quickly:
“And you, what will you do?â€
“Get to wuck again, Mester, as soon as I can.â€
“And the men who beat you like that?â€
“Eh, what about ’em?â€
“Shall you try and punish them?â€
“Punish ’em, Mester! Why, how can I? They
punished me.â€
“But you will turn upon them for this, Pannell, will
you not?â€
“Nay, Mester; I went again ’em, and they knob-
sticked me for it, and it’s all done and over. I shall
goon be back at my stithy, if you'll hev me again.’
“Have you! yes, my man, of course, * said Uncle
Jack. “I'wish we could have more like you.â€
“Cob,†said Uncle Jack as we strode on and got
well out into the country, “we've got a very strong
confederation to fight, and I do not feel at all hopeful
of succeeding; but, there: we've put our hands to the
plough, and we can’t look back. Now never mind
business, let’s listen to the birds and enjoy the fresh
country air for a time.â€
We were going up the valley, passing every now and
then “a wheel†as it was called, that is a water-wheel,
turning a number of erindstones, the places being
remarkably like ours, only that as wW23 got farther out
250 DISCUSSING THE SITUATION.
the people who ground and forged did their work
under the shade of trees, while the birds piped their
songs, and air and water were wonderfully different
from what they were about our place on the edge of
the great town.
“Let's get back, Cob,†said Uncle Jack despondently.
“It makes me miserable to hear the birds, and see the
beauty of the hills and vales, and the sparkling water,
and know that men toiling together in towns can be
such ruffians and so full of cruelty to their fellow
creatures.â€
“And so strong and true and brave and ready to
help one another.â€
“As who are, Cob?†said my uncle.
“Well, for want of thinking of anyone else just
now,’ I said, “there’s poor Pannell; he saved me, and
he has just shown us that he is too faithful to his
fellow workmen to betray them.â€
Unele Jack laid his hand upon my shoulder and
gave it a hearty grip.
“You're right, my lad,†he said. “You're the better
philosopher after all. There’s good and bad, and like
so many more I think of the bad and overlook the
good. But all the same, Cob, ’m very uneasy. These
men have a spiteful feeling against you, and we shall
not be doing right if we trust you out of our sight
again.â€
CHAPTER XXI,
WHAT I CAUGHT AND HEARD.
SHOULD say you will very likely have
some sport,†said Uncle Dick. “Try by all
means.â€
“T hardly like to, unele,†I said.
“Nonsense, my lad! All work and no play makes
Jack—I mean Jacob—a dull boy.â€
“But it will seem as if I am neglecting my work.â€
“By no means. Besides, we shall not be busy for a
day or two. Have a few hours’ fishing, and I daresay
one of us will come and see how you are getting on.â€
The opportunity was too tempting to be lost, so 1
got a cheap rod and a dear line—a thoroughly good
one, asked a gardener just outside to dig up some small
red worms for me, and, furnishing myself with some
paste and boiled rice, I one morning took my place up
at the head of the dam where the stream came in, chose
a place where the current whirled round in a deep hole
and began fitting my tackle together prior to throw-
ing in,
I had been longing for this trial, for I felt sure that
there must be some big fish in the dam. It was quite
amongst the houses and factories, but all the same it
was deep, there was a constant run of fresh water
through it, and I had more than once seen pieces of
bread sucked down in a curiously quiet way, as if taken
252 A TRY IN THE DAM.
by a great slow moving fish, a carp or tench, an old in-
habitant of the place.
Certainly it was not the sort of spot I should have
selected for a day’s fishing had I been offered my choice,
but it was the best I could obtain then, and I was going
to make the most of it.
I laughed to myself as I thought of the eels, and the
ereat haul I had made down in the wheel-pit, and then
I shuddered as I thought of the horrors I had suffered
down there, and wondered whether our troubles with
the men were pretty well over.
I hoped so, for from what I heard the business was
succeeding beyond the hopes of the most sanguine of
my uncles, and if we were left alone success on the
whole was assured.
Of course it was this brilliant prospect that induced
them to stay on and dare the perils that lurked around,
though, during the past few weeks, everything had
been so quiet that once more we were indulging in the
hope that the war was at an end.
In spite of Dr. Johnson’s harsh saying about a
fisherman, I know of no more satisfactory amusement
than is to be found in company with a rod and line.
The sport may be bad, but there is the country, the
bright sky, the waving trees, the dancing waters, and
that delicious feeling of expectation of the finest bite
and the biggest fish that never comes but always may.
I was in this state of expectancy that day. The
sport was not good certainly, for the fish I caught
were small, but I argued that where there were small
fish there must be large, and sooner or later some of
the monsters of the dai would see and take my bait.
I fished till dinner-time, varying my position, and
when the bell rang some of the men came and sat on
the edge and watched me, chatting civilly enough as
they smoked their pipes.
As luck had it I caught a couple of good-sized silvery
ON THE LEDGE. 253
roach, and Stevens gave his leg a regular slap as he
exclaimed:
“Well if they’d towd me there was fish like that 7
th’ dam wouldn’t hev believed it.â€
The bell rang for work to be resumed, and the men
slowly moved along the dam edge, Stevens being left,
and he stopped to fill and light his pipe—so it seemed
to me; but as he stooped over it, putting away large
clouds of smoke, I heard him say:
“Don’t look. Soon as men’s gone in, yow go and
stand on ledge close under grinding-shop windows, and
see what you catch.â€
“Tt’s such an awkward place to get to,†Isaid. “I
suppose it’s deep, but—â€
“You do what I tell’ee, and don’t talk,†growled
Stevens, and he strolled off with his hands in his
pockets after his mates.
“T sha’n’t go,’ I said. “It’s a very awkward place
to get to; the ledge is not above nine inches wide,
and if I got hold of a big fish, how am I to land
him!â€
The very idea of getting hold of a fish that would
be too hard to land was too much for me, and I should
have gone to the ledge if it had only been four and a
half inches wide. So, waiting to have a few more
throws, which were without result, I picked up my
basket, walked right round the end of the dam, and
then along the top of a narrow wall till [ reached the
end of the works at the far side, and from there lowered
myself gently down on the ledge, along which Pannell
had brought me when he rescued me from the wheel-
pit, right at the other end, and towards which I was
slowly making my way.
It was slow travelling, and my feet were not above
a couple of inches above the water, while the windows
te the grinding-shop were about four feet above my
head,
254 SLOW WORK.
I made no special selection, but stopped right in the
middle, just where I imagined that the dam head would
be deepest, and softly dropped in my line after setting
down my basket and leaning my back against the
stone building.
As I did so I wished that there had been a place to
sit down, but there was of course only just room to
stand, and there I was with the water gliding on and
over the great wheel a few yards to my left; to my
right the windows, out of which poured the black smoke
of the forges, and from which came the clink chink of
hammer upon anvil, while above me came throbbing
and vibrating, screeching and churring, the many varied
sounds made by the grinders as they pressed some piece
of steel against the swiftly revolving stone, while, in
spite of dripping drenching water, the least contact
drew from the stone a shower of sparks.
I fished on, after making a few alterations in the
depth of my bait, finding the water far deeper than I
expected. I renewed that bait, too, but no monstrous
fish came to take it, to hook itself, and to make a rush
and drag me off my ledge. The sounds buzzed and
rattled overhead; there was the echoing plash of the
water over the wheel, and the whispering echoes which
did not sound at all terrible now, and above all from
the windows overhead, in intervals of the grinding, I
could hear the men talking very earnestly at times.
I paid very little heed, for I was interested in my
fishing and the water across which the spiders were
skating. Iwanted a big bite—that big bite—but still
it did not come, and I began to wonder whether there
were any fish of size in the place.
«“There’s every reason why there should be,†I
thought. Deep clear water fed by the great dam up
in the hills, and of course that dam was fed by the
mountain streams. This place was all amongst build-
ings, and plenty of smuts fell on the surface; in fact
POOR SUCCESS. 255
the wind used to send a recular black scum floating
along to the sides.
Plop!
My heart gave a throb of excitement, for there was
a rise evidently made by a big fish over to my right
close inshore.
“Now if I had been there,†I thought, “I should have
most likely been able to catch that fish and then—â€
Bah! Who wanted to catch a great water-rat that
had plumped off the bank into the water? I could see
the sleek-coated fellow paddling about close inshore.
Then he dived down, and there were a lot of tiny bub-
bles to show his course before he went right in under
the bank, which was full of holes.
I could almost fancy I was in the country, for there
were a few rushes and some sedgy growth close to
where the rat had been busy. Farther off, too, there
was the sound that I had heard down in a marshy part
of Essex with my uncles, during one of our excursions.
“Quack, quack, quack! Wauek, wuck, wuck!?—a duck
and a drake just coming down to the water to drink
and bathe and feed on the water-weed and snails.
Yes; it quite put me in mind of the country to have
wild ducks coming down to the pool, and—there were
the two wild ducks! One, as the cry had told me, was
a drake, and he had once been white, but old age and
Arvowfield soot and the dirty little black yard where
he generally lived had changed his tint most terribly,
and though he plunged in, and bobbed and jerked the
water all over his back, and rubbed the sides of his
head and his beak all among his feathers, they were
past cleaning.
As to his wife, who expressed herself with a loud
quack, instead of saying wuck, wuck in more smothered
tones, she was possibly quite as dirty as her lord, but
being brown the dirt did not show. Her rags did, for
a more disreputable bird I never saw, though she, too,
256 I HEAR SOMETHING.
washed and flapped her wings, and dived and drenched
herself before getting out on the bank to preen and
beak over her feathers.
Alas! as people say in books, it was not the country,
but dingy, smoke-bewithered Arrowfield, and I won-
dered to myself why a couple of birds with wings
should consent to stay amongst factories and works.
I knew the top of my float by heart; so must that
skating spider which had skimmed up to it, running
over the top of the water as easily as if ib were so
much ice. J was growing drowsy and tired. Certainly
I leaned my back up against the wall, but it was quite
upright, and there was no recompense. Whatever is
the use of watching a float that will not bob? It may
be one of the best to be got in a tackle-shop, with a
lovely subdivision of the paint—blue at the bottom
and white at the top, or green and white, or blue and
red, but if it obstinately persists in sitting jauntily
cocked up on the top of the water immovable, fishing
no longer becomes a sport.
But I did not fish all that time for nothing.
As I said, I was becoming drowsy with looking go
long at the black cap at the top of my float. Perhaps
it was the whirr and hum of the machinery, and the
faint sound of plashing water; even the buzz and
churr and shriek of the steel upon the fast spinning
stones may have had something to do with it. At any
rate I was feeling sleepy and stupid, when all at once
I was wide awake and listening excitedly, for the
shrieking of blade held upon grindstone ceased, and I
heard a voice that was perfectly familiar to me say:
“Tell ’ee what. Do it at once if you like; but if I
had my wayer I’d tie lump o’ iron fast on to that
theer dorg’s collar and drop ‘im in dam.â€
“What good ud that do?†said another voice.
“Good! why we'd be shut on him.â€
“Ay, but they'd get another,â€
THE MEN SPEAK OUT, 257
“Well, they wouldn’t get another boy if we got shut
o’ this one,†said the first voice.
“ But yow wouldn’t go so far as toâ€â€”
The man stopped short, and seemed to give his stone
a slap with the blade that he was grinding.
“Tdknow. He's a bad un, and allus at the bottom
of it if owt is found out.â€
“Ay, but yow mustn’t.â€
“Well, pr’aps I wouldn’t then, but I’d do some-
thing as would mak him think it were time to go
home to his mother.â€
My face grew red, then white, I’m sure, for one
moment it seemed to burn, the next it felt wet and
cold. I did not feel sleepy any longer, but in an in-
tense state of excitement, for those words came from
the window just above my head, so that I could hear
them plainly.
“Tt’s all nonsense,†I said to myself directly after.
“They know I’m here, and it’s done to scare me.â€
Just then the churring and screeching of the grind-
ing steel burst out louder than ever, and I determined
to go away and treat all I had heard with silent con-
tempt. Pulling up my line just as a fisher will, I
threw in again for one final try, and hardly had the
bait reached the bottom before the float bobbed.
I could not believe it at first. It seemed that I
must have jerked the line—but no, there it was again,
another bob, and another, and then a series of little
bobs, and the float moved slowly off over the surface,
carrying with it a dozen or so of blacks.
Iwas about to strike, but I thought I would give
the fish a little more time and make sure of him, and,
forgetting all about the voices overhead, I was watch-
ing the float slowly gliding away, bobbing no longer,
but with the steady motion that follows if a good fish
has taken the bait.
And what a delight that was! What a reward to
(322) R
258 WHAT ORDERS?
my patience! That it was a big one I had no doubt.
If it had been a little fish it would have jigged and
bobbed the float about in the most absurd way, just as
if the little fish were thoughtless, and in a hurry to be
off to play on the surface, whereas a big fish made it a
recular business, and was calin and deliberate in every
way.
Ne for it,†I thought, and raising the point of the
rod slowly I was just going to strike when the grind-
ing above my head ceased, and one of the voices I had
before heard said:
“Well, we two have got to go up to the Pointed
Star to-night to get our orders, and then we shall know
what’s what.†‘
I forgot all about the fish and listened intently.
“Nay, they can’t hear,†said the voice again, as if in
answer to a warning; “wheels makes too much noise.
I don’t care if they did. They've had warnings enew.
What did they want to coom here for?â€
“Ay,†said another, “trade’s beginning to feel it
aready. If we let ’em go on our wives and bairns ’ll
be starving next winter.â€
“That's a true word, lad; that’s a true word. When
dyow think it'll be?â€
“ Ah, that’s kept quiet. We shall know soon enew.â€
“Ay, when it’s done.â€
“Think this “Il sattle °em?â€
“Sattle! Ay, that it will, and pretty well time.
They'll go back to Lonnon wi’ their tails twix’ their
legs like the curs they are. Say, think they've got
pistols?â€
“Dunno. Sure to hev, ah sud say.â€
“Oh!â€
“Well, spose they hev? You aren’t the man to be
scarred of a pop-gun, are yo’?â€
“T dknow. Mebbe I should be if I hev the wuck
to do. Tm scarred 0’ no man.â€
STRANGE WORDS. 259
“But you're scarred of a pistol, eh lad? Well, I
wunner at yo.â€
“Well, see what a pistol is.â€
“Ay, I know what a pistol is, lad. Man’s got a pis-
tol, and yo’ hit im a tap on the knuckles, and he
lets it fall. Then he stoops to pick it up, and knob-
stick comes down on his head. Nowt like a knobstick,
lad, whether it be a man or a bit 0 wood. Wants no
loading, and is allus safe.â€
“Well, all I've got to say is, if I have the wuck to
do I shallâ€â€”
Churr, churry, screech, and grind. The noise
drowned the words I was eager to hear, and I stood
bathed with perspiration, and hot and cold in turn,
That some abominable plot was in hatching I was
sure, and in another minute I micht have heard some-
thing that would have enabled us to be upon our
euard; but the opportunity had passed, for the men
were working harder than ever.
I was evidently in very bad odour with them, and
I thought bitterly of the old proverb about listeners
never hearing any good of themselves.
What should I do—stop and try to hear more?
Jig, jig, tug, tug at the top of my rod, and I looked
down to see that the float was out of sight and the rod
nearly touching the water.
My fisherman’s instinct made me strike at once, and
in spite of the agitation produced by the words I had
heard I was ready for the exciting struggle I expected
to follow. I had certainly hooked a fish which strug-
gled and tugged to get away; but it was not the great
carp or tench I expected to capture, only a miserable
little eel which I drew through the water as I walked
slowly along the ledge towards the end of the works
farthest from the wheel, where I climbed on the wall,
and, still dragging my prize, I went right on to the far
end, where the water came in from the stream, There
260 GETTING TOO DANGEROUS.
T crossed the wooden plank that did duty for a bridge,
and glanced furtively back at the windows of the works
looking out upon the dam.
As far as I could make out I had not been seen, and
I had obtained some very valuable information that
might be useful for our protection.
When I had reached the spot where I had begun
fishing I drew in my capture; but it was not a long
eel, but a mass of twined-up, snake-like fish which had
wreathed itself into a knot with my line.
To get it free seemed to be impossible, so I cut off
the piece of line just above the knot and let it fall into
the water to extricate itself, while I went back to the
office to have a few words with my uncles about what
I had heard.
“T think we are in duty bound to send you home,
Cob,†said Uncle Jack, and the others murmured
their acquiescence.
“Send me home!†I evied. “What! just when all
the fun is going to begin!â€
“Fun!†said Uncle Dick. “Fun that the frogs
suffered when the boys stoned them, eh?â€
“Oh, but you know what I mean, uncle. I don’t
want to go.â€
“But we have run you into terrible risks already,â€
cried Uncle Bob, “and if you were hurt I should feel
as if I could never face your father and mother
again.â€
“Oh, but I sha’n’t be hurt,†I eried. “There, ’m
ready for anything, and shall always try to get on the
safe side.â€
“As you always do,†said Uncle Jack grimly. “No,
my boy, you must not stay. It is evident from what
you overheard that the men have some design against
us on hand. Above all, they have taken a great dis-
like to you, and in their blind belief that you are one
of the causes of their trouble they evidently feel
I FIGHT FOR POSITION. 261
spiteful and will not shrink from doing you harm.
And that’s rather a long-winded speech,†he added,
smiling,
“Can’t we make them see that we are working for
them instead of against them?†said Uncle Dick.
“No,†said Uncle Bob. “No one can teach preju-
diced workmen. The light comes to them some day,
but it takes a long time to get through their dense
brains. I think Cob must go.â€
“Oh! Uncle Bob,†I exclaimed.
“T can’t help it,’ my lad. “There seems to be no
help for it. I shall regret it horribly, for your uncles
are very poor company.â€
“Thankye,†said Uncle Dick.
“ Nice remark from the most stupid of three brothers,â€
grumbled Uncle Jack.
“But you ought not to be exposed to these risks,â€
continued Uncle Bob, “and now that by your own
showing there is something worse on the way.â€
“Oh, it can’t be worse than it has been; and besides,
the men said I was always the first to find anything
out. You see I have this time—again.â€
“Yes, with a vengeance,†said Uncle Jack.
“And I’m sure you can’t spare me.â€
“No, we can ill spare you, Cob,†said Uncle Dick,
“but we should not be doing our duty if we kept you
here.â€
“ Now, uncle,†I cried, “I believe if I went home—
though, of course, they would be very glad to see me
—imy father would say I ought to be ashamed of my-
self for leaving you three in the lurch.â€
“Look here! look here! look here!†cried Uncle
Bob. “We can’t sit here and be dictated to by this
boy. He has run risks enough, and he had better go
back to them at once,â€
“Oh, you see if I would have said a word if I had
known that you would have served me like this!†I
262 I AM BANTERED.
cried angrily. “Anyone would think I was a school-
girl.â€
“Tnstead of a man of sixteen,†said Uncle Bob.
“Never mind,†I eried, “you were sixteen once,
Uncle Bob.â€
“Quite right, my boy, so I was, and a conceited
young rascal I was, almost as cocky as you are.â€
“Thank you, uncle.â€
“Only I had not been so spoiled by three easy-going,
good-natured uncles, who have made you think that
you are quite a man.â€
“Thank you, uncle,†I said again, meaning to be
very sarcastic.
“Tnstead of a soft stripling full of sap.â€
“And not fit to stand against the blows of oak
cudgels and the injured Arrowfield workmen,†said
Uncle Dick.
“Oh, all right! Banter away,†I said. “I don’t
mind. I shall grow older and stronger and more
manly, I hope.â€
“Exactly,†said Unele Jack; “and that’s what we
are aiming at for you, my lad. We don't want to see
you scorched by an explosion, or hurt by blows, or made
nervous by some horrible shock.â€
“T don't want to be hurt, of course,†I said, “and
I’m not at all brave. I was terribly frightened when
I found the powder canister, and when I fell in the
wheel-pit. I believe I was alarmed when I heard the
men talking about what they were going to do; but I
should be ashamed of myself, after going through so
much, if I ran away, as they said you three would
do.â€
“ How was that?†cried Uncle Bob.
“With your tails between your legs, regularly fright-
ened away like curs.â€
“They may carry us to the hospital without a leg
to stand upon, or take us somewhere else without
THE QUESTION OF RISK. 263
heads to think, but they will not see us running away
in such a fashion as that,’ quoth Uncle Dick.
“Boy,†said Uncle Jack, in his sternest way, “I
would give anything to keep you with us, but I feel
as if it has been a lapse of duty towards you to let
you run these risks.â€
“But suppose I had been made a midshipman, uncle,â€
T argued, “1 should have always been running the risks
of the sea, and the foreion climate where I was sent,
and of being killed or wounded by the enemy.
“Tf there was war,†suggested Uncle Bob.
“Yes, uncle, if there was war.â€
“Cob, my lad,†said Uncle Dick, “that’s a strong
argument, but it does not convince us. Your Uncle
Jack speaks my feelings exactly. I would give any-
thing to keep you with us, for your young elastic
nature seems to send off or radiate something bright-
ening on to ours; and, now that you are going away,
I tell you frankly that your courage has often encour-
aged us.â€
« Has it, uncle?†I cried.
“ Often, my lad.â€
« Ay that it has,†said Uncle Jack. “T’ve often felt
down-hearted and ready to throw up our adventure;
but I’ve seen you so fresh and eager, and so ready to
fight it out, that I’ve said to myself—If a boy like that
is ready to go on it would be ashame for a man to
shrink.â€
“Ves,†gaid Uncle Bob, “I confess to the same
feeling.â€
“Well, that is shabby,†I cried.
“What is, boy?†said Uncle Jack.
“To send me off like this. Why, you'll all break
down without me.â€
“No, no; that does not follow,†said Uncle Bob.
“ Ah, won't it! you'll see,†I said.
“Look here, Cob, be reasonable,†exclaimed Uncle
264 UNCLE JACK WASHES HIS HANDS.
Jack, walking up and down the room in a very excited
way. “ You see, ever since you were born we've made
a sort of playmate of you, and since you grew older,
and have been down here with us, you know we have
not treated you as if you were a boy.â€
“Well, no, uncle, I suppose you have not.â€
“We have talked with you, consulted with you, and
generally behaved towards you as if you were a young
2?
man.
“And now all at once you turn round and punish
me by treating me as if I were a little boy.â€
“No, no, my lad; be reasonable. We have been
consulting together.â€
“Without me.â€
“Yes, without you; because we felt that we were
not doing you justice—that we were not behaving as
good brothers to your mother, in letting you go on
sharing these risks.â€
“ But there may be no more, uncle.â€
“ But there will be a great many more, my boy,’ said
Uncle Jack solemnly; “and what would our feelings
be if some serious accident were to happen to you?â€
“ Just the same, Uncle Jack,†I cried, “as mine would
be, and my father’s and mother’s, if some accident were
to happen to you.
Unele Jack wrinkled up his broad forehead, stared
hard at me, and then, in a half angry, half amused
way, he went to the table, took up an imaginary piece
of soap and began to rub it in his palms.
“T wash my hands of this fellow, boys,†he said.
“Dick, you are the oldest; take him in hand, dress
him down, give him sixpence to buy hardbake and
lollipops, and send him about his business.â€
“Make it half-a-crown, uncle, †I cried, with my
cheeks burning with anger; “and then you might buy
me a toy- -horse too—one with red wafers all over it,
and a rabbit-skin tail.â€
I FIGHT UNCLE DICK. 265
“My dear Cob,†said Uncle Jack, “why will you be
so wilfully blind to what is good for you?â€
My cheeks grew hotter, and if I had been alone I
should have burst into a passion of tears, but I could
not do such a thing then, when I wanted to prove to
these three that I was fit to be trusted and too old to
be sent home.
“We do not come to this conclusion without having
carefully thought it out, boy,†cried Uncle Bob.
“Very well, then!†I cried, almost beside myself with
passion.
“Confess now,†said Uncle Bob; “haven’t you often
felt very much alarmed at having to keep watch of a
night in that lonely factory?â€
“ Of course I have.â€
“ And wished yourself at home?†said Uncle Dick.
“ Seores of times, uncle.â€
“Well, then, now we wish you to go, feeling that it
is best for you, and you turn restive as that jackass
we hired for you to ride down in Essex.â€
“Haven't you three fellows been teaching me ever
since I was a little tot, to try and be a man?â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Dick.
«When I’ve tumbled down and knocked the skin
off my knees haven't you said ‘Don’t cry: be a
man!â€
“Oh yes! Guilty!†said Uncle Dick.
“Tf I fell out of the swing didn’t you hold your cool
hand to the great lump on my head and tell me that I
must try to bear it without howling: like a man?â€
“Yes, boy, yes.â€
“And when I broke my arm, after getting up the
rock after the gulls’ eggs, didn’t you tell me about the
Spartan boys?â€
“T did, Cob, I did.â€
“Yes, of course you did,†I cried indignantly. “You
were all three alike: always teaching me to bear pain
266 UNCLE DICK ASKS FOR THE SOAP.
and be courageous, and master my natural cowardice
and be aman. Now didn’t you?â€
“Ay, ay, ay! Captain Cob,†they chorused.
“And here,†I cried passionately, “after fighting all
these years and making myself miserable so as to do
exactly what you all taught me, now that there is a
chance of showing that I know my lesson and have
done well, you all treat me like a mollycoddle, and
say tome by your looks: ‘Youre a poor cowardly little
cub; go home to your mother and be nursed.’â€
“Have you done with the soap?†said Uncle Dick,
turning to Uncle Jack, as I stood there, feeling angry,
passionate, excited, and carried out of myself.
“Eh?†said Uncle Jack staring.
“TI say, have you done with the metaphorical soap?
I want to wash my hands of him too.’
“Tt’s too bad, uncle,†I eried.
“ Here, Bob,†said Uncle Dick in his evim way, “you
take him in hand.â€
“No, thank you,†said Uncle Bob. “I'll trouble you
for the soap when you’ve done.â€
“ And now,†I cried, speaking to them as I had never
done before, “you make worse of it by laughing at me.â€
“No, no,†cried Uncle Dick; “we were not laughing
at you, but we do now;†and starting with a tremen-
dous “Ha-ha-ha!†the others joined in, and I stalked
out of the parlour and went up to my room, where I
set to work, and in about ten minutes had all my
belongings carefully packed in my little carpet-bag—
the new one that had been bought for me—and the
little brass padlock on and locked.
Just then the parlour door opened as I was looking
out of my bed-room window at the smoke and glow
over the town, and thinking that after all I liked the
noise and dirt and busy toil always going on, knowing,
as I did, how much it had to do with the greatness of
our land.
“TmA’S READY.†267
“Cob!†came up Uncle Dick’s big voice.
“Yes, uncle,†I said quietly.
“Tea’s ready.â€
“T don’t want any tea,’ I said.
“Yes, you do, lad. Fried ham and eggs.â€
“Come,†I said to myself, “I'll let them see that I
can behave like a man. Perhaps I shall have to gu
home by the last train to-night or the first in the
morning. Poor old Piter,†I thought, “I should like to
have taken you!â€
So I went down quite coolly and walked into the
parlour, where my uncles were waiting for me before
seating themselves at the table.
That touched me; it was so full of consideration and
respect for the boy they were going to send away.
Plump, comfortable Mrs. Stephenson was just ready
to take off the bright tin dish-cover, and as she did so
there was a perfect pile of fried ham and eggs, looking
brown and white and pink and orange, and emitting
a most appetizing odour.
“Ts Mr. Jacob a bit sadly, gentlemen?†said Mrs.
Stephenson, looking at me with interest.
“Oh no,†I said quickly; and a bit touched too by
Mrs. Stephenson’s respectful way and the J/y. “Only
tired. I shall be all right when I’ve had my tea.â€
“That’s bonnie,’ she cried nodding. “Td better
butter a couple more cakes, hadn’t I, gentlemen?â€
“That you had,†said Uncle Bob. “Let’s eat well,
or we shall never be able to fight it out with your
fellow-townsmen.†.
“Ah, deary me, gentlemen,†she cried; “it’s sore work,
that it is! I’m sure if they only knew what I do they’d
behave better to you. Them trades is doing more harm
than good.â€
She bustled out of the room, and as soon as the door
was closed Uncle Dick turned to me.
“Shake hands, Cob, my boy,’ he said.
268 “Wr WANT YOU TO STAY.â€
I held mine out frankly, for I had had my say, and
I was determined to show them that I could act like a
man.
“Now with me,†said Uncle Jack in his hard stern
way.
and with me,†said Uncle Bob.
I shook hands all round; but in spite of every effort
my lip would quiver, and I had to bite it hard to keep
down the emotion I felt.
“Shall I speak?†said Uncle Jack.
Unele Dick nodded.
“Why not wait till after tea?†said Uncle Bob.
“No, I shall tell him now,†said Uncle Jack grimly.
“Tm hungry, and we may as well spoil his tea and get
his share, for he will not be able to eat after what I’ve
said. Cob, my lad, we’ve been talking this over again
very seriously.
“All right, uncle!†I said quietly. “I’m quite ready
to go. T’ve packed up, but Pd rather go to-morrow
morning. I want to go and shake hands with Pannell
and bid Piter ‘good-bye.’ â€
“You have packed up?†he said rather sternly.
“Yes, uncle.â€
“Did you do that in a fit of passion or sulks?â€
“No,†I said sharply; “but because I wanted to show
you to the very last that I had not forgotten what you
taught me about self-denial and all that.â€
“God bless you, my lad!†he cried, hurting me
horribly as he shook hands exceedingly hard. “I’m
glad to hear you say that, for we've been saying that
if we want to win in this fight we can’t afford to part
with one quarter of the Co. Cob, my lad, we want
you to stay.â€
“Unele!†I cried.
“Yes, my lad, you are older in some things than
your years, and though Vd do anything rather than
run risks for you, 1 do feel that with right on our
“HUSH!†269
side, please God, we shall win yet, and that it would
be cowardly for us even to let you turn tail.â€
I don’t know what I should have said and done
then, as Uncle Jack exclaimed:
“ Have I said right, Dick, Bob?â€
“Yes, quite,†said Uncle Dick warmly; “and for my
art â€
eG Hush! sit down,†cried Uncle Bob, hastily setting
the example so as to end the scene. “Yes, two eggs,
please. Quick, here's Mrs. Stephenson coming with the
cakes.â€
LR:
CHAPTER XXII
STEVENS HAS A WORD WITH ME,
EXT morning I went down to the works,
feeling as if I had grown in one night a
year older, and after givine Piter the bones
I always took him down, and receiving the
rann-like butt he always favoured me with to show his
eratitude, I was going round the place, when I heard
a familiar clinking and saw a glow out of the little
smithy that had for some time been cold.
I ran in, and there, looking rather pale and with a
bit or two of sticking-plaster about his temples, was
Pannell hammering away as if he were trying to make
up for lost time.
“Why, Pannell, old man,†I cried, running in with
outstretched hand, “back again at work! Iam glad to
see you.â€
He looked up at me with a scowl, and wiped his
brow with the arm that was terminated by a fist and
hammer—a way, I have observed, much affected by
smiths,
His was not a pleasant face, and it was made more
repulsive by the scars and sticking-plaster. As our
eyes met it almost seemed as if he were going to strike
me with his hammer; but he threw it down, gave his
great hand a rub back and front upon his apron, pro-
bably to make it a little blacker, and then gripped
THE ADVICE OF UNCLE DICK. 271
mine as badly as Uncle Jack had on the previous
night. In fact, you see, I suffered for people liking
me.
“Are you glad, mun?†he said at last hoarsely; “are
you glad? Well that’s cheering anyhow, and thank ye.â€
He nodded and went on with his work again while
I went to mine about the books, but with a suspicious
feeling of impending trouble on my mind, as I passed
two of the men who saw me come out of the smithy,
and who must have seen me shaking hands with
Pannell.
I don’t know why they should have minded, for I
should have done the same with either of them had we
been on as friendly terms.â€
As I entered my little office my eyes it on the com-
mon fishing-rod I had used, and that set me thinking
about the conversation I had heard as I stood on the
ledge.
I recalled what had been said overnight in a long
discussion with my uncles, and the advice they had
given.
“Don’t show suspicion,†Uncle Dick had said, “but
meet every man with a frank fearless look in the eye,
as if you asked no favour of him, were not afraid of
him, and as if you wanted to meet him in a straightfor-
ward way.â€
I thought a good deal about it all, and how my
uncles said they meant to be just and kind and stern
at the same time; and it certainly did seem as if this
was the most likely way to win the men’s respect.
“For now that we have concluded to keep you with
us, Cob, I must warn that we mean business, and that
we have made up our minds that we shall win.â€
That morning went off quietly enough, and though
we all kept a quiet searching look-out, there was
nothing to excite suspicion. Then evening came, and
the watching, in which again that night I had no share,
272 PITER AGAIN DRUGGED.
but it was an understood thing that I was to be at the
works at the same time as the men next day.
It was a lovely autumn morning with the wind
from the country side, and as I hurried up and off to
the works there was a feeling in the air that seemed
to tempt me away to the hills and vales, and made me
long for a change.
“Tll see if one of them won’t go for a day,†I said
to myself; and hopeful of getting the holiday, and per-
haps a run up to the great dam, I reached the works
before the men.
“Well done, industrious!†cried Uncle Bob, who
opened the gate to me. “You are first.â€
“That's right,’ I said. “No, it isn’t. Where’s Uncle
Dick? Why, you look pale.â€
“Uncle Dick isn’t awake,†he said quickly. “Fact
is, Cob, I’ve had a seare. As you say, I found that
they'd been at Piter again. The poor dog has been
drugged, and that must mean something wrong.â€
Sure enough, poor Piter lay fast asleep and breathing
heavily; but after our last experience we did not feel
so despondent about bringing him to again, so, leaving
him in his kennel where he had crept, we roused Uncle
Dick and told him.
“We can’t look round now,†he said. “The men are
coming in to their work, but we shall soon hear if
there is anything wrong. The bands again, I expect.â€
Just then we heard the noise made by the drawing
of the sluice, the wheel went plashing round, the shaft
rumbled, connections were being made, and in a very
few minutes the first grindstone was sending forth its
loud churring noise.
Then there was more and more, and at last the
works were in full swing.
“There’s nothing wrong, then, with the bands,†said
Unele Dick; and then we waited, wondering what
trick had been played, till about an hour had passed,
I TALK TO PANNELL. 273
during which the same remedies as were tried before
were put into force with poor old Piter, and he re-
covered sufficiently to wag his tail.
Just about that time Uncle Jack arrived, and was
put in possession of our fresh trouble.
“And you can find nothing wrong?†he said.
“Nothing.â€
“Have you looked under the desks, and in the cup-
boards?â€
“We've quietly searched everywhere,†replied Uncle
Bob earnestly.
“Then we must go on as usual,†said Uncle Jack.
“There, you two go home: Cob and I will chance the
risks.â€
“It may have been an attempt to get rid of the
dog,’ I said, “and nothing more.â€
“That's what I’ve been thinking,†said Uncle Jack;
and soon after we were left alone.
Towards mid-day I went down to have a chat with
Pannell, and to ask him how he had got on during his
long illness.
“Tidy,†he said sourly. “There was the club helped
me, but the mesters did most.â€
“What! my uncles?â€
“Ay, didn't you know?†he cried, busying himself
about lighting a smaller forge at the back of the first.
I shook my head.
“Paid me pound a-week all the time I was badly,
my lad.â€
“And very kind of them too,†I said warmly.
“Ay, twas. Felt at times, lad, asif I warn’t worth
the money, that I did.â€
Just then Stevens made his appearance, crossing
from the grinders’ shop to one of the smithies at the
end; and as he went along at some distance I saw him
look curiously over at where I was standing talking to
Pannell.
(322) s
274 STEVENS WANTS A WORD WITH ME.
“Theer it is again,†said the latter. “You mean well,
lad, and it’s very kind on you; but I shall hev it fore
long on account o’ talking to thee.â€
“Oh, surely not!†I eried anerily. “The men will
never be such cowards as to attack you for that.â€
“Men weant, but trade will,†said Pannell. “Mates
can’t do as they like about it. Look ye yonder; what
did I say?â€
He nodded in the direction of Stevens, who had re-
turned directly, stopped opposite the smithy, but at
some distance, and as soon as I looked up he began
to signal to me to go to him.
I never liked the man, for he always seemed to dis-
like me, and I gave him the credit of being one of the
active parties in the outrages that had been committed
upon us. But I remembered what our plans were to
be—frank, straightforward, and fearless—and I walked
right up to Stevens, whose brow was lowering and full
of menace.
“ Here, I want a word with you,†he said fiercely.
“All right, Stevens!†I said. “What is it?â€
“Come over here,†he replied, “and I'll tell ye.â€
He led the way along the yard to the other side of
the great coal heap, which lay there massive and square,
through its sides being carefully built up with big
blocks of coal.
We were quite out of sight there, and, as I thought,
how easy it would be for him to knock me down with
one of the lumps.
I was perfectly cool though, till he suddenly seized
me by the jacket.
I struck up at his hand, but he held on tightly, and
there was a curious smile on his face as he said:
“Nay, you don’t, lad; ’'m stronger than thou.â€
“What do you want?†I eried, making a virtue of
necessity and standing firm.
“What do I want, eh?†he said slowly. “Oh, just
STEVENS IS STRANGE. 275
a word or two wi’ thee, my lad. There, you needn't
call thee uncle.â€
“T was not going to call him,’ I retorted. “Why
should I?â€
“Because you're scarred about what I’m going to
do to thee.â€
“No, I’m not,’ I replied boldly; “ because you daren’t
do anything unless it’s in the dark, when you can
attack a man behind his back.â€
He winced at this and scowled, but turned it off
with a laugh.
“Tack a what?†he said.
“A boy, then,†I eried. “I know P’m a boy; but I
meant people generally.â€
“Nivver you mind that,†he said. “You don’t un-
derstand trade. But joost you look there. Yow’ve
been saying I did some’at to the dog.â€
“That I have not,†I cried.
“Ay, but you did say it,†he repeated fiercely.
“T did not say so,†I cried almost as angrily; “but
if I had said it, I don’t suppose I should have been far
wrong.â€
“Nay, lad, I did nowt to the dog. I did nowt—I—â€
He let his hand fall, and a feeling of relief from some
expectation came over his face. He had been talking
to me, but it was in a curious way, and all the time
he talked he seemed to be looking over my shoulder
more than in my face.
But now he drew a long breath and seemed satisfied
with the explanation; and just then I uttered a ery of
horror, for there was a loud report, and the yard seemed
to be filled with flying cinders and smoke.
Stevens gave me a grim look and laid his hand on
my shoulder.
“Lucky yow weern’t theer,†he said. “Might have
been hurt. Come and see.â€
We joined the men who were hurrying in the
276 AN EXPLOSION.
direction of the smoke that obscured one end of the
yard.
“What is it, Uncle Jack?†I cried, as I ran to his side,
“T don’t know yet,†he said.
“It was somewhere by the smithies.
“Yes; that’s plain enough,†said my uncle, and we
pressed on in front of the men, to come upon Pannell,
bending down and rubbing his eyes.
“Pannell!†I eried; “you are not hurt?â€
“Nay, not much,†he said sourly. “Got the cinder
and stuff in my eyes, but they missed me this time.â€
“What! was it not an accident?â€
“Qh, ay!†he replied; “reo’lar accident. Powder got
into my little forge, and when I started her wi’ some
hot coal from t’other one she blew up.â€
“But you are not hurt?â€
“Nay, lad, I weer stooping down, and were half
behind the forge, so I didn’t ketch it that tine.â€
The smoke was by this time pretty well cleared
away, and we walked into the smithy to see what
mischief had befallen us.
Fortunately no harm had been done to the structure
of the building, and there being no glass in the win-
dows there was of course none to blow out. The coal
ashes and cinders had been scattered far and wide, and
the iron funnel-shaped chimney knocked out of place,
while some of the smiths’ tools, and the rods of steel
upon which Pannell had been working, were thrown
upon the floor.
The walls, forge, and pieces of iron about told tales
for themselves without the odour of the explosive, for
everything had been covered with a film of a erayish-
white, such as gunpowder gives to iron or brickwork
when it is fired.
“Where was the powder?†cried Unele Jack, after
satisfying himself that Pannell had not the slightest
burn even upon his beard.
FELLOW-WORKMEN OR THE TRADE. 277
“Tn little forge all ready for me when I fired up,â€
srowled Pannell sourly, as he scowled round at the
little crowd of men; “but they missed me that time.â€
Uncle Jack had a good look round the place, and
the workmen stared at us as if in full expectation of
being taken to task as the cause of the explosion.
I watched their faces cautiously in search of a look
of regret, but the only peculiar expression I could see
was on the countenance of Stevens, who stood softly
rolling up his shirt-sleeves closer and closer to his
shoulders, and there was such a curious smile in his
eyes that he inspired me with a thought.
“Oh, if I have been deceived in him!â€
That was my thought. For I seemed to see at a
glance that he had known the explosion would take
place, and that the talk about the dog was an ex-
cuse to get me away and save me from the conse-
quiences.
Just then Uncle Jack turned round to me and laid
his hand on my shoulder.
“Look here,†he said quietly, as if he were showing
me a curiosity, but loud enough for all the men to hear
—“down in the south of England, my boy, when a
workman is disliked it generally comes to a settlement
with fists, and there is a fair, honest, stand-up fight.
Down here in Arrowfield, Jacob, when another work-
man does something to offend his fellows—â€
“«Traiide,†shouted a voice.
“To offend his fellow- workmen,†repeated Uncle
Jack.
“Traiide,†shouted the voice again, and there was a
murmur of assent.
“Well, have it your own way,†said Unele Jack.
“To offend the trade, they try to blind him for life
by filling his forge with powder, so that it may ex-
plode in his face. Jacob, my lad, next time I go any-
where, and hear people talk about what brave strong
278 PANNELL IS A MAN.
manly fellows the Englishmen are, I shall recommend
them to come down and stay in Arrowfield for a month
and see what is done.â€
There was a low murmur among the men; but we
did not stop to listen, and they all returned to their
work except Pannell, who went down to the dam and
bathed his eyes, after which he went as coolly as could
be back to his smithy, took a shovel and borrowed
some glowing fire from the next forge, lit up his own,
and was soon after hammering his funnel chimney
back in its place, and working up rods of steel as if
nothing whatever had been amiss.
About the middle of the afternoon, though, he came
up through the workshop straight to the office, with
his hammer in his hand, and gave a loud thump at the
door.
I opened it and admitted him; for I was in the big
office with my uncles, who were talking about this last
trouble.
“Well, my man, what is it?†said Uncle Jack.
Pannell began to lift up his hammer-head slowly
and let it fall back again into his left hand, staring
straight before him with his dark eyes, which were
surrounded with the black marks of the gunpowder
which clung still to the skin.
“What do you want, Pannell?†I said, giving him a
touch on the arm; but the hammer rose and fell still
by the contraction of his right hand, and went on tap
—tap—falling into his left.
“Why don't you speak?†I said again, quite im-
patiently.
“I know,†he growled. “I want to speak.â€
“We are listening,†said Uncle Dick. “What have
you to say?â€
“Look here,†cried Pannell, giving his hammer a
flourish round his head as if he were about to attack
us. “I’m aman—I am.â€
PANNELL SPEAKS OUT. 279
“And a good big one, Pannell,†said Uncle Bob
smiling.
“Wish I were twyste as big, mester! Theer!†cried
Pannell.
“T wish you were if it would be any comfort to
you,†said Uncle Bob to himself.
“Tve been athinking o’ this out while I've been
hammering yonder, and I want to speak.â€
“Ves,†said Uncle Jack. “Go on.â€
“Look ye here, then,†cried Pannell, flourishing his
hammer round as if he were a modern edition of an
anery Thor; “does anyone say I telled on ’em? Did I
tell on ’em, mesters? Answer me that.â€
“What! about the outrages?†said Uncle Dick firmly.
“Outrages, mester!â€
“Well, the attempts to blow us up.â€
“Ay'—the trade business. Did I ivver come and
say word to anny of you?â€
“ Never.â€
“Or to yow, youngster?â€
“Never, Pannell. You always went against us,†I
said, “when a word from you would—â€
“«Theer, that'll do. Tell me this—Did I ivver tell
on anny on ’em?â€
“No; you have always been true to your party,
Pannell—if that is what you mean.â€
“And that is what I mean,†said the great fellow,
throwing his head about and jerking out his words,
each with a menacing flourish of the hammer or a
mock blow, as if they were steel words that he wanted
to strike into shape.
“Nobody accused you of talebearing to us,†said
Uncle Dick.
“Didn’t they, mester?†he roared. “What's this,
then, and this, and this?â€
He touched the scars upon his head and brow, and
the sticking-plaster left on.
280 DONE WITH THEM.
“Don’t you call that saying I telled on ’em, wi’out
the poother in my forge this morning?â€
“A cowardly brutal thing to have done, my man.â€
“Ay, so ‘twas. Td done nowt but be civil to young
mester here. Say,†he cried fiercely, “yow telled ’em
I forged that trap!†and he turned on me.
“Oh, Pannell!†I eried, flushing indignantly.
That was all I said, but it was enough.
“Beg pardon, young gentleman!—yow didn’t, I can
see that. Nay, it was the altogetherishness o’ the whole
thing. They set me down—me, a mate in the union—
as hevvin’ telled on em and gone agen ’em, and being
friends wi’ the mesters; and yow sce what they’ve
done.â€
“Indeed we do, Pannell—â€
“Howd hard, mester,†said the big smith, flourishing
about his hammer. “I hevn’t had my spell yet. I
want to speak.â€
Uncle Dick nodded, as much as to say, “Go on.â€
“ Look here, then, mesters—I’ve thowt this out. It’s
cowards’ business, ivvery bit on it, ‘cept Matt Stivvins
this morning coming and fetching young mester out of
the way.â€
“Yes,†I said, “he did.â€
“And they'll knobstick ‘im for it if they know—see
if they don’t!â€
“Then they mustn’t know,†I cried eagerly. «I
don’t like Stevens, but he did save me this ‘morn-
ing.â€
“Ay, he did, ’cause he said once yow weer a trump,
my lad; but he didn’t give me a word. I sha’n’t tell
on him, but I sha’n’t hev nought more to do wi’ anny
on ‘em. I’ve been union man all these years and paid,
and here’s what I’ve got for it. I says to mysen, I
says: If this here's what comes o’ sticking to union
through all their games I’ve done wi’ ’em, and I’m a
master’s man—that’s all.â€
A FRIENDLY SQUEEZE. 281
He turned short round to go, but Uncle Dick stopped
him.
“T don’t quite understand what you mean, Pannell.â€
“What I mean! Why, what I said—that’s what I
mean.â€
“That you have done with the trades-union, Pan-
nell,†I cried, “and mean to be on our side?â€
“That's so, mester. Now I mun go or my fire’ll be
out.â€
He strode out of the place and banged the door after
him; and as he went along the shop I could see him
in imagination staring defiantly from side to side, in
answer to the savage murmur that grected him from
the men whom he had made up his mind to defy.
“What do you think of that?†said Uncle Dick, as
soon as we heard the farther door close with a erash.
“Tts the beginning of the end,’ said Uncle Jack
with an eager look~in his eyes. Keep firm, boys, and
we shall have them all honestly on our side, and we
can laugh at all trades-unions in Arrowfield that fight
with cowardly weapons. The men do not do what
their own feelings prompt, but obey the law of a secret
society which forces them to do these cruel wrongs.â€
It must have been intentional on his part, for as I
went down into the furnace house about half an hour
after, at my usual time, to take down an account of
work done, I met Stevens coming towards me.
We were in the big empty building, the furnace
being cold, and no work going on that day, and he
slouched towards me as if he were going by, but I
stopped him and held out my hand.
“Thank you, Stevens,†1 said. “I didn’t under-
stand it then, but you saved me from something ter-
rible to-day.â€
He gave a quick glance or two about, and then
regularly snatched my hand, gave it a squeeze, and
threw it away.
282 “ALL RIGHT!â€
“All right, my lad!†he said in a hoarse whisper.
“You're on’y one o’ the mesters, but I couldn’t: abear
to see thee in for it too.â€
He went on his away and I went mine, feeling that
Unele Jack was right, and that though it might be a
long journey first, it was the beginning of the end.
CHAPTER XXIII
I START FOR A WALK,
HO’S for a walk?†said Uncle Dick one
morning. “I’m going up the hills to the
millstone-grit quarry.â€
I started, and my heart gave a throb, but
I did not look up.
“T can’t go,†said Uncle Jack.
“And I’m busy,†said Uncle Bob.
“Then I shall have to put up with Cob,†said Uncle
Dick gloomily. “Will you come, my lad?â€
«Will I come!†I cried, jumping and feeling as if I
should like to shout for joy, so delightful seemed the
idea of getting away into the hills, and having one of
our old walks.
“Well, it must be at midday, and you will have to
meet me out at Ranflitt.â€
“Two miles on the road?†I said.
“Yes; you be there, and if ’m not waiting I sha’n’t
be long, and we'll go on together.â€
i What time shall T staré?†I asked.
“When the men go to their dinner will do. I have
some business at the far end of the town, and it will
not be worth while for me to come back. Tll take
the other road.â€
So it was settled, and I took my big stick down to
the office, and a net satchel that was handy for any-
284 I AM PELTED.
thing when slung from the right shoulder and under
my left arm. Before now it had carried fish, part-
ridges, fruits, herbs, roots of plants, and oftener than
anything else, lunch.
That seemed to be a long morning, although I wrote
hard all the time so as to get a good day’s work
over first; but at last the dinner-bell rang, and, saying
good-bye to the others, I slipped the satchel into my
pocket, took my stick, and started.
We had not thought of those who would be loiter-
ing about during their dinner-hour, but I soon found
that they were thinking of me, for not only were our
own men about the streets, but the men of the many
other works around; and to my dismay I soon found
that they all knew me by sight, and that they were
ready to take notice of me in a very unpleasant
way.
I was walking steadily on when a stone hit me in
the leg, and instead of making haste and getting out
of range, I stopped short and looked round angrily for
my assailant.
I could see a dozen grinning faces, but it was of
course impossible to tell who threw, and before I
turned back an oyster-shell struck me in the back.
I turned round angrily and found myself the object
of a tremendous shout of laughter.
Almost at the same moment I was struck by an old
cabbage-stump and by a potato, while stones in plenty
flew by my head.
“The cowards!†I said to myself as I strode on, look-
ing to right and left, and seeing that on both sides of
the way a number of rough boys were collecting, en-
couraged by the laughter and cheers of their elders.
We had nota single boy at our works, but I could
see several of our men were joining in the sport, to
them, of having me hunted.
To have a good hunt, though, it is necessary to have
I CHARGE, 285
a good quarry, that is to say, the object hunted must
be something that will run.
Now, in imagination I saw myself rushing away
pursued by a mob of lads, hooting, yelling, and pelting
me; but I felt not the slightest inclination to be
hunted in this fashion, and hence it was that I walked
steadily and watchfully on, stick in hand, and pre-
pared to use it too, if the necessity arose.
Unfortunately I was in a road where missiles were
plentiful, and these came flying about me, one every
now and then giving me such a stinging blow that
I winced with pain. The boys danced round me, too,
coming nearer as they grew bolder from my non-resis-
tance, and before long they began to make rushes,
hooting and yelling to startle me, no doubt, into
running away.
But so far they did not succeed; and as I continued
my walking they changed their tactics, keeping out of
reach of my stout stick, and taking to stones and any-
thing that came to hand.
I could do nothing. To have turned round would
only have been to receive the objects thrown in my
face; and when at last, stung into action by a harder
blow than usual, I did turn and make a rush at the
boy I believed to have thrown, he gave way and the
others opened out to let me pass, and then closed up
and followed.
It was a foolish movement on my part, and I found
I had lost ground, for to get on my way again I had
to pass through a body of about a dozen lads, and the
only way to do this as they gathered themselves ready
to receive me, was by making a bold rush through
them.
They were already whispering together, and one of
them cried “Now!†when I made a rush at them, stick
in hand, running as fast as I could.
They made a show of stopping me, but opened out
286 HUNTED.
directly, and as soon as I had passed yelled to their
companions to come on, with the result that I found I
could not stop unless I stood at bay, and that I was
doing the very thing I had determined not to do—
racing away from my pursuers, who, in a pack of
about forty, were yelling, crying, and in full chase.
To stop now was impossible: all that was open to
me was to run hard and get into the more open suburb,
leaving them behind, while I had the satisfaction of
knowing that before long the bells at the different
works would be ringing, and the young vagabonds
obliged to hurry back to their places, leaving me free
to maintain my course.
So that, now I was involuntarily started, I deter-
mined to leave my pursuers behind, and I ran.
I don’t think I ever ran so fast before, but fast as I
van I soon found that several of the lightly clothed old
looking lads were more than my equals, and they kept
so close that some half a dozen were ready to rush in
on me at any moment and seize me and drag me
back.
I was determined, though, that they should not do
that, and, grasping my stick, I ran on, more blindly,
though, each moment. “Tis true, I thought of making
for the outskirts and tiring the boys out; but to my
dismay I found that fresh lads kept joining in the
chase, all eager and delighted to have something to run
down and buffet, while my breath was coming thickly,
my heart beat faster and faster, and there was a terrible
burning sensation in my chest.
I looked to right for some means of escape, but
there was none; to left was the same; behind me the
yelling pack; while before me stretched the lanes, and
mill after mill with great dams beyond them similar
to ours.
I should have stopped at bay, hoping by facing the
lads to keep them off; but I was streaming with per-
COB HUNTED BY THE ARROWFIELD MOB,
A RISKY PLACE. 287
spiration, and so weak that I knew, in spite of my
excitement, that I should hardly be able to lift my
arm.
On and on, more and more blindly, feeling moment
by moment as if my aching legs would give way beneath
me. I gazed wildly at my pursuers to ask for a little
merey, but unfortunately for me they, excited and hot
with their chase, were as cruel as boys can be, and men
too at such a time.
There was nothing for it but to rush on at a pace
that was fast degenerating into a staggering trot, and
in imagination, as the boys pushed me and buffeted me
with their caps, I saw myself tripped up, thrown down,
kicked, and rolled in the dust, and so much exhausted
that I could not help myself.
One chance gave me a little more energy. It must
be nearly time for the bells to ring, and then they
would be bound to give up the pursuit; but as I
struggled I caught sight of a clock, and saw that it
wanted a quarter of an hour yet.
There were some men lounging against a wall, and I
cried out to them, but they hardly turned their heads,
and as I was hurried and driven by I saw that they
only laughed as if this were excellent sport.
Next we passed a couple of well-dressed ladies, but
they fled into a gateway to avoid my pursuers, and
the next minute I was hustled round a corner, the
centre of the whooping, laughing crowd, and, to my
horror, I found that we were in a narrow path with a
row of stone cottages on one side, the wall of a dam
like our own, and only a few inches above the water
on the other.
I had felt dazed and confused before. Now I saw
my danger clearly enough and the object of the lads.
I was streaming with perspiration, and so weak that
I could hardly stand, but, to avoid being thrust in, and
perhaps held under water and ducked and butteted
288 AT BAY.
over and over again, I felt that I must make a plunge
and try and swim to the other side.
But I dared not attempt it, even if I could have got
clear; and blindly struggling on I had about reached
the middle of the dam path when a foot was thrust
out, and I fell.
Sobbing for my breath, beaten with fists, buffeted
and blinded with the blows of the young savages’ caps,
I struggled to my feet once more, but only to be tripped
and to fall again on the rough stony path.
T could do no more. I had no strength to move, but
I could think acutely, and feel, as I longed for the
streneth of Uncle Jack, and to hold in my hand a good
stout but limber cane.
Yes, I could feel plainly enough the young ruffians
drageing at me, and in their eagerness and number
fighting one against the other.
“Tn wi’ him!â€
“Dook him, lads!â€
“Now, then, all together!â€
I heard all these cries mingled together, and mixed
up with the busy hands and faces, I seemed to see the
row of houses, the clear sky, the waters of the dam,
and Gentles the grinder leaning against a door and
looking on.
I was being lifted amidst shouts and laughter, and
I knew that the next moment I should be in the dam,
when there was a tremendous splash, and some drops
of water sprinkled my face.
Then there was the rattle of the handle of a bucket,
and another splash heard above all the yelling and
shouting of the boys. There was the hollow sound of
a pail banged against something hard, and mingled
with cries, shouts, laughter, and ejaculations of pain
I felt myself fall upon the path, to be kicked and
trampled on by someone contending, for there were
slaps, and thuds, and blows, the panting and hissing of
JANE GENTLES. 289
breath; and then the clanging of bells near and bells
far, buzzing in ears, the rush and scufiling of feet, with
shouts of derision, defiance, and laughter, and then, last
of all, a curious cloud of mist seemed to close me in
like the fog on the Dome Tor, and out of this a shrill
angry voice cried:
“Ah, ye may shout, but some on ye got it Go
and dry yourselves at the furnace, you cowardly
young shacks. Hey, bud I wish ’'d hed holt o' yon
stick |â€
“Yon stick!†I felt must be mine; but my head was
aching, and I seemed to go to sleep.
“I wish you'd be quiet,†I remember saying. “ Let
me be.â€
“Fetch some more watter, mester,’ said a pleasant
voice, and a rough hand was laid upon my forehead,
but only to be taken away again, and that which had
vexed and irritated me went on again, and in a dreamy
way I knew it was a sponge that was being passed over
my face.
“T fetched Mester Tom one wi’ bottom o’ the boocket,
and I got one kick at Tom, and when the two boys
come home to-night they'll get such a leathering as
they never hed before.â€
“Nay, let ’em be,†said a familiar voice.
“Let ’em be! D’ye think I’m going to hev my bairns
erow up such shacks? Nay, that I wean't, so yo may
like it or no. I’d be shamed o’ my sen to stand by
and let that pack o’ boys half kill the young gentleman
like that.â€
“T warn’t going to stop ’em.â€
“Not you, mester. Yow’d sooner set ‘em on, like
you do your mates, and nice things come on it wi your
strikes and powder, and your wife and bairns wi empty
cupboard. Yow on’y let me know o’ next meeting, and
if I don’t come and give the men a bit o’ my mind, my
name arn’t Jane Gentiles.â€
(822) T
290 MY RESCUER.
“Yow'd best keep thy tongue still.â€
“Mebbe you think so, my man, but I don’t.â€
My senses had come back, and I was staring about
at the clean kitchen I was in, with carefully black-
leaded grate and red-brick floor. Against the open
door, looking out upon the dam, and smoking his pipe,
stood—there was no mistaking him—our late man,
Gentles; while over me with a sponge in her hand, and
a basin of water by her on a chair, was a big broad-
shouldered woman with great bare arms and a pleasant
homely face, whose dark hair was neatly kept and
streaked with gray.
She saw that I was coming to, and smiled down at
me, showing a set of very white teeth, and her plump
face looked motherly and pleasant as she bent down
and laid her hand upon my forehead.
“That’s bonny,†she said, nodding her head at me.
“You lie still a bit and Pll mak you a cup o’ tea, and
yoll be aw reight again. I’m glad I caught ’em at it.
Some on ’em’s going to hev sore bones for that job, and
so I tell ’em.â€
I took her hand and held it in mine, feeling very
weak and dreamy still, and I saw Gentles shift round
and give me a hasty glance, and then twist himself
more round with his back to me.
“Howd up a minute,†she said, passing one strong
arm under me and lifting me as if I had been a baby;
and almost before I had realized it she slipped off my
jacket and placed a cushion beneath my head.
“There, now, lie still,†she said, dabbing my wet
hair with a towel. “Go to sleep if you can.â€
By this time she was at the other end of the common
print-covered couch on which I lay and unlacing my
boots, which she drew off.
“There, now thowlt be easy, my lad. What would
thy poor moother say if she saw thee this how?â€
J wanted to thank her, but I was too dreamy and
A FEW WORDS. 291
exhausted to speak; but I had a strange feeling of
dread, and that was, that if I were left alone with
Gentles he would, out of revenge, lay hold of me and
throw me into the dam, and to strengthen my fancy I
saw him keep turning his head in a furtive way to
glance at me.
“Here,†exclaimed the woman sharply, “take these
here boots out to the back, mester, and clean ’em while
I brush his coat.â€
“Kh?†said Gentles.
“Tak them boots out and brush ’em. Are yo’
deaf?†:
“Nay, I’m not going to clean his boots,†growled
Gentles.
“Not going to clean the bairn’s boots!†said the
woman sharply; “but I think thou art.â€
She left me, went to the door, took Gentles’ pipe
from his mouth, and then thrust the boots under his
arm, laying a great hand upon his shoulder directly
after, and seeming to lead him to a door behind me,
through which she pushed him, with an order to make
haste.
“Yes,†she said, tightening her lips, and smiling, as
she nodded to me, “I’m mester here, and they hev to
mind. Was it thou as set the big trap ketched my
mester by the leg?â€
_ I never felt more taken aback in my life; but I
spoke out boldly, and said that it was I.
“ And sarve him right. Be a lesson to him. Mixing
himself up wi’ such business. I towd him if he crep
into people’s places o’ neets, when he owt to hev been
fast asleep i’ bed wi’ his wife and bairns, he must
reckon on being ketched like a rat. I'd like to knock
some o’ their heads together, I would. They’re allus
feitin’ agen the mesters, and generally for nowt, and
it’s ooz as has to suffer.â€
Mrs, Gentles had told me to try and sleep, and
292 MY BOOTS ARE CLEANED.
she meant well; but there were two things which,
had I been so disposed, would thoroughly have pre-
vented it, and they were the dread of Gentles doing
something to be revenged upon me, and his wife’s
tongue.
For she went on chattering away to me in the most
confidential manner, busying herself all the time in
brushing my dusty jacket on a very white three-legged
table, atter giving the cloth a preliminary beating
outside.
“There,†she said, hanging it on a chair; “by and
by you shall get up and brush your hair, and I'll give
you a brush down, and then with clean boots you will
not be so very much the worse.â€
She then sat down to some needlework, stitching
away busily, and giving me all sorts of information
about her family—how she had two boys out at work
at Bandy’s, taking it for granted that I knew who
Bandy’s were; that she had her eldest girl in service,
and the next helping her aunt Betsey, and the other
four were at school.
All of which was, no doubt, very interesting to her;
but the only part that took my attention was about
her two boys, who had, I knew, from what I over-
heard, been in the pack that had so cruelly hunted me
down.
And all this while I could hear the slow brush, brush
at my boots, evidently outside the back-door, and I
half expected to have them brought back ripped, or
with something sharp inside to injure me when I put
them on.
At last, after Mrs. Gentles had made several allusions
to how long “the mester†was “ wi’ they boots,†he came
in, limping slightly, and after closing the door dropped
them on the brick floor.
“Why, Sam!†exclaimed Mrs. Gentles, “I'd be
ashamed o’ mysen—that I would!â€
A GOOD WIFE. 293
But Gentiles did not seem to be in the slightest degree
ashamed of himself, but took his pipe from the shelf,
where his wife had laid it, struck a match, relit it, and
went off with his hands in his pockets.
Mrs. Gentles rose and followed him to the door, and
then returned, with her lips tightened and an angry
look in her face.
“Now he’s gone off to booblic,†she said angrily, “to
hatch up and mess about and contrive all sorts 0’ mis-
chief wi’ them as leads him on. Oh the times I’ve
telled him as they might make up all the differ by
spending the time in work that they do in striking
again’ a sixpence took off or to get one putt on! Ay,
but we missuses have but a sorry time!â€
The absence of Gentles’ furtive look sent back at
me from the door seemed to change the effect of his
wife’s voice, which by degrees grew soothing and soft,
and soon after I dropped off asleep, and dreamed of a
curious clinking going on, from which dream I awoke,
with my head cooler, and Mrs. Gentles bending over
me and fanning my face with what looked like an old
copy-book.
I looked at her wonderingly.
“That’s better,†she said. “Now set up and I'll help
thee dress; and here’s a nice cup of tea ready.â€
“Oh, thank you!†I said. “What time is it?â€
“Close upon five, and I thowt you'd be better now
after some tea.â€
She helped me on with my jacket, and I winced
with pain, I was so stiff and sore. After this she in-
sisted upon putting on my boots.
“Just as if I heven’t done such things hundreds of
times,†she said cheerfully. “Why, I used to put on
the mester’s and tak ’em off all the time his leg was
bad.â€
“T’m sorry I set that trap,†I said, looking up at
her rough, pleasant face, and wondering how such a
294 A DISCUSSION AT HOME.
sneaking, malignant fellow could have won so good a
wife.
“Tm not,†she said laughing. “It sarved him right,
so say no more about it.â€
That tea was like nectar, and seemed to clear my
head, so that I felt neaxly recovered save when I tried
to rise, and then I was in a good deal of pain. But I
deemed myself equal to going, and was about to start
when I missed my cap.
“Hey, but that'll be gone,†she said. “Oh, they
boys! Well, yow must hev Dick’s.â€
Before I could protest she went upstairs, and re-
turned with a decent-looking cap, which I promised to
return, and then, bidding my Samaritan-like hostess
good-bye, I walked firmly out of her sight, and then
literally began to hobble, and was glad as soon as I
could get into the main road to hail one of the town
cabs and be driven home, not feeling strong enough to
go to the works and tell of my mishap.
My. Tomplin came in that evening after Uncle Dick
had heard all my narrative and Uncle Bob had walked
up and down the room, driving his fist into his hand
every now and then with a loud pat.
We had had a long conversation, in which I had
taken part with a terribly aching head, and I should
have gone to bed only I would “not show the white-
feather,
For they all three made this a reason why I should
give up to them, and after all go back.
“You see the men are dead against wus, Cob, and the
boys follow suit, and are avainst you.†So said Uncle
Dick.
“All the men are not against you,†I said. “Look
at Pannell! He has come round, and,†I added, with
a laugh that hurt me horribly, al shall have some of
the boys come round and help me.’
“The young scoundrels!†cried Unele Bob. Pat—
“LIKE A HUNGRY LION.†295
that was his fist coming down into his hand. “The
young scoundrels!â€
“Well, you've said that twenty times at least, Bob,â€
said Uncle Jack.
“Enough to make me!†said Unele Bob sharply.
“The young scoundrels!†Pat.
“T only wish I’d been there with a good handy
riding-whip,†said Uncle Jack. “There would have
been some wailing among them.â€
“Yes; and summonses for assault, and all that
bother,†said Uncle Dick. “We don’t want to come to
blows, Jack, if we can help it.â€
“They are beyond bearing,†cried Uncle Bob, keep-
ing up his walk; “the young scoundrels!†Pat.
“My dear Bob,†eried Uncle Dick, who was very
much out of temper; “if you would be kind enough to
leave off that trot up and down.’—
“Like a hungry lion,†said Uncle Jack.
“In the Zoo,†cried Uncle Dick, “you would very
much oblige me.â€
“T can’t sit down,†said Uncle Bob, thumping his
hand. “TI feel too much excited.â€
“Then bottle it up for future use,†said Uncle Dick.
“You really must.â€
“To attack and hurt the boy in that way! It’s
scandalous. The young ruffians—the young savages!â€
Just then Mr. Tomplin came in, looked sharply
round, and saw there was something wrong.
“T bee your pardon,†he said quickly; “Tl look in
another time.â€
“No, no,’ said Uncle Bob. “Pray sit down. We
want your advice. A cruel assault upon our nephew
hereâ€â€”and he related the whole affair.
“Humph!†ejaculated Mr. Tomplin, looking hard at
me.
“What should you advise—warrants against the
ringleaders?â€
296 MR. TOMPLIN’S OPINION.
“Summonses, Mr. Robert, I presume,†said Mr. Tomp-
lin. “But you don’t know who they were?â€
“Yes; oh, yes!†cried Uncle Bob eagerly. “Two
young Gentiles.â€
“But you said the mother saved our young friend
here from the lads, dowsed them and trounced them
with a pail, and made her husband clean his boots,
while she nursed him and made him tea.â€
“YVe-es,†said Uncle Bob.
“Well, my dear sir, when you get summonses out
against boys—a practice to which I have a very great
objection—it is the parents who suffer more than their
offspring.â€
“And serve them right, sir, for bringing their boys
up so badly.â€
“Yes, I suppose so; but boys will be boys,†said Mz.
Tomplin.
“T don’t mind their being boys,†said Uncle Bob
angrily; “what I do object to is their bemg young
savages. Why, sir, they half killed my nephew.â€
“But he has escaped, my dear sir, and, as I under-
stand it, the mother has threatened to—er—er—leather
the boys well, that was, I think, her term’—
“Yes,†I said, rather gleefully, “leather them.â€
“And judeing from the description I have heard of
this Amazon-like lady, who makes her husband obey
her like a sheep, the young gentlemen’s skins will
undergo rather a severe tanning process. Now, don’t
you think you had better let the matter stand as it
is? And, speaking on the lex taliowis principle, our
young friend Jacob here ought to be able to handle his
fists, and on the first occasion when he met one of his
enemies he might perhaps give him a thrashing. I
don’t advise it, for it is illegal, but he might perhaps
by accident. It would have a good effect.â€
“But you are always for letting things drop, Mr.
Tomplin,†said Uncle Bob peevishly.
I HAVE A WISH. 297
“Yes; I don’t like my friends to go to law—or
appeal to the law, as one may say. I am a lawyer,
and I lose by giving such advice, I know.â€
“Mr. Tomplin’s right, Bob,†said Uncle Jack. “You
think of that boy as if he were sugar. I’m sure he
does not want to take any steps; do you, Cob?â€
“No,†I said; “it J mayâ€â€”
I stopped short.
“May what?â€
“Have a few lessons in boxing. I hate fighting; but
I should like to thrash that big boy who kept hitting
me most.â€
CHAPTER XXIV.
UNCLE JACK AND I HAVE A RUN.
DID not have any lessons in boxing, in spite
of my earnest desire.
“We do not want to be aggressors, Cob,â€
said my Uncle Dick.
“But we want to defend ourselves, uncle.â€
“To be sure we do, my lad,†he said; “and we'll be
ready as we can when we are attacked; but I don’t see
the necessity for training ourselves to fight.â€
So I did not meet and thrash my enemy, but went
steadily on with my duties at the works.
In fact I was very little the worse for my adventure,
thanks to Mrs. Gentles, to whom I returned the cap
she had lent me and thanked her warmly for her
goodness.
She seemed very pleased to see me, and told me that
her “mester†was quite well, only his leg was a little
stiff, and that he was at work now with her boys.
_ The matters seemed now to have taken a sudden
turn, as Mr. Tomplin said they would: the men were
evidently getting over their dislike to us and the new
steel, making it up and grinding it in an ill-used, half
contemptuous sort of way, and at last the necessity for
watching by night seemed so slight that we gave it up.
But it was felt that it would not be wise to give up
the air of keeping the place looked after by night, so
OUR NEW WATCHMAN. 299
old Dunning the gate-keeper was consulted, and he
knew of the very man—one who had been a night
watchman all his life and was now out of work through
the failure of the firm by whom he had been employed.
In due time the man came—a tall, very stout fellow,
of about sixty, with a fierce look and a presence that
was enough to keep away mischief by the fact of its
being known that he was there.
He came twice, and was engaged to be on duty every
night at nine; and in the conversation that ensued
in the office he took rather a eruff, independent tone,
which was mingled with contempt as he was told of
the attempts that had been made.
“Yes,†he said coolly; “it’s a way the hands have
wherever new folk come and don’t hev a reg’lar watch-
man. There wouldn’t hev been none of that sort o
thing if I had been here.â€
“Then you don’t expect any more troubles of this
kind?â€
“More! Not likely, mester. We've ways of our own
down here; and as soon as the lads know that Tom
Searby’s on as watchman there'll be no more trouble.â€
“J hope there will not,†said Uncle Dick as soon as
the man had gone. “It will be worth all his wages to
be able to sleep in peace.â€
About this time there had been some talk of my
father and mother coming down to Arrowfield, but
once more difficulties arose in town which necessitated
my father’s stay, and as my mother was rather delicate,
it was decided that she should not be brought up into
the cold north till the springtime came again.
“All work and no play makes—you know the rest,â€
said Uncle Jack one morning at breakfast. “I won't
say it, because it sounds egotistic. Cob, what do you
say? Let’s ask for a holiday.â€
“Why not all four go?†I said eagerly; for though
the works were very interesting and I enjoyed seeing
300 ANOTHER HOLIDAY,
the work go on, I was ready enough to get away, and
so sure as the sun shone brightly I felt a great longing
to be off from the soot and noise to where the great
hills were abloom with heather and gorse, and tramp
where I pleased.
Uncle Dick shook his head.
“No,†he said; “two of us stay—two go. You fellows
have a run to-day, and we'll take our turn another’
time.â€
We were too busy to waste time, and in high glee
away we went, with no special aim in view, only to
get out of the town as soon as possible, and off to the
hills.
Uncle Jack was a stern, hard man in the works, but
as soon ashe went out for a holiday he used to take
off twenty years, as he said, and leave them at home,
so that I seemed to have a big lad of my own age for
companion.
It was a glorious morning, and our way lay by the
works and then on past a series of “wheels†up the
valley, in fact the same route I had taken that day
when I was hunted by the boys.
But I had Unele Jack by my side, and in addition
it was past breakfast time, and the boys were at
work.
We had nearly reached the dam into which I had
so narrowly escaped a ducking, and I was wondering
whether Uncle Jack would mind my just running to
speak to the big honest woman in the row of houses
we were about to pass, when he stood still.
“What is it?†I said.
“Cob, my lad,†he eried, “I want a new head or a
new set of brains, or something. I’ve totally forgotten
to ask your Uncle Dick to write to the engineer about
the boiler.â€
“Let me run back,†I said.
“Won't do, my boy; must see him myself. There,
SPINNING TEAPOTS. 301
you keep steadily on along the road as if we were
bound for Leadshire, and I'll overtake you in less than
half an hour.
“But,†I said, “I was going this way to meet Uncle
Dick that day when he went to buy the stones, and
what a holiday that turned out!â€
“T don’t think history will repeat itself this time,
Cob,†he replied.
“But will you be able to find me again?â€
“T can’t help it if you keep to the road. If you
jump over the first hedge you come to, and go rambling
over the hills, of course I shall not find you.â€
“Then there is no fear,†I said; and he walked
sharply back, while I strode on slowly and stopped by
the open window of one factory, where a couple of men
were spinning teapots.
“Spinning teapots!†I fancy I hear some one say;
“how’s that done?â€
Well, it has always struck me as being so ingenious
and such an example of what can be done by working
on metal whirled round at a great speed, that I may
interest some one in telling all I saw.
The works opposite which I stopped found their
motive power in a great wheel just as ours did, but
instead of steel being the metal used, the firm worked
in what is called Britannia metal, which is an alloy of
tin, antimony, zine, and copper, which being mixed in
certain proportions form a metal having the whiteness
of tin, but a solidity and firmness given by the three
latter metals, that make it very durable, which tin is
not.
“Oh, but,†says somebody, “tin is hard enough! Look
at the tin saucepans and kettles in every kitchen.â€
I beg pardon; those are all made of plates of iron
rolled out very thin and then dipped in a bath of tin,
to come out white and silvery and clean and ready to
keep off rust from attacking the iron. What people
302 BRITANNIA METAL.
call tin plates are really tinned plates. Tin itself is a
soft metal that melts and runs like lead.
As I looked through into these works, one man was
busy with sheets of rolled-out Britannia metal, thrus-
ting them beneath a stamping press, and at every clang
with which this came down a piece of metal like a
perfectly flat spoon was cut out and fell aside, while at a
corresponding press another man was holding a sheet,
and as close as possible out of this he was stamping out
flat forks, which, like the spoons, were borne to other
presses with dies, and as the flat spoon or fork was
thrust in it received a tremendous blow, which shaped
the bowl and curved the handle, while men at vices
and benches finished them off with files.
I had seen all this before, and how out of a flat sheet
of metal what seemed like beautiful silver spoons were
made; but I had never yet seen a man spin a teapot,
so being holiday time, and having to wait for Uncle
Jack, I stood looking on.
I presume that most boys know a lathe when they
see it, and how, out of a block of wood, ivory, or
metal, a beautifully round handle, chess-man, or even
a perfect ball can be turned.
“Well, it is just such a lathe as this that the tea-
pot spinner stands before at his work, which is to
make a handsome tea or cotfee-pot service.
But he uses no sharp tools, and he does not turn hig
tea-pot out of a solid block of metal. His tool is a
hard piece of wood, something like a child’s hoop-
stick, and fixed to the spinning-round part of the
lathe, the “chuck,†as a workman would call it, is a
solid block of smooth wood shaped like a deep slop-
basin.
Up against the bottom of this wooden sugar-basin
the workman places a flat round discor plateof Britannia
metal—plate is a good term, for it is about the size or
a little larger than an ordinary dinner plate. A part
THE DUCTILE ALLOY. 303
of the lathe is screwed up against this so as to hold
the plate flat up against the bottom of the wooden
sugar-basin; the lathe is set in motion and the glisten-
ing white disc of metal spins round at an inconceivable
rate, and becomes nearly invisible.
Then the man begins to press his wooden stick up
against the centre of the plate as near as he can go,
and gradually draws the wooden tool from the centre
towards the edge, pressing it over the wooden block of
basin shape.
This he does again and again, and in spite of the
metal being cold, the heat of the friction, the speed at
which it goes, and the ductility of the metal make it
behave as if it were so much clay or putty, and ina
very short time the wooden tool has moulded it from
a flat disc into a metal bowl which covers the wooden
block.
Then the lathe is stopped, the mechanism unscrewed,
and the metal bow! taken off the moulding block, which
is dispensed with now, for if the spinner were to
attempt to contract the edges of his bowl, as a potter
does when making a jug, the wooden mould could not
be taken out.
So without the wooden block the metal bowl is
again fixed in the lathe, sent spinning round, the stick
applied, and in a very short time the bowl, instead of
being large-mouthed, is made to contract in a beautiful
curve, growing smaller and smaller, till it is about one-
third of its original diameter, and the metal has seemed
to be plastic, and yielded to the moulding tool till a
gracefully formed tall vessel is the result, with quite a
narrow mouth where the lid is to be.
Here the spinner’s task is at anend. He has turned
a flat plate of metal into a large-bodied narrow-
mouthed metal pot as easily as if the hard cold metal
had been clay, and all with the lathe and a piece of
wood, There are no chips, no scrapings. All the
304 A STATE OF EXCITEMENT.
metal is in the pot, and that is now passed on to have
four legs soldered on, a hole cut for the spout to be
fitted; a handle placed where the handle should be,
and finally hinges and a lid and polish to make it per-
fect and ready for someone’s tray.
I stopped and ‘saw the workman spin a couple of
pots, and then thinking I should like to have a try at
one of our lathes, I went on past this dam and on to
the next, where I meant to have a friendly word with
Mrs, Gentles if her lord and master were not smoking
by the door.
I did not expect to see him after hearing that
he was away at work; but as it happened he was
there.
For as I reached the path along by the side of the
dam I found myself in the midst of a crowd of women
and crying children, all in a state of great excitement
concerning something in the dam.
I hurried on to see what was the matter, and to my
astonishment there was Gentles on the edge of the
dam, armed with an ordinary lone broom, with which
he was trying to hook something out of the water—
what, I could not see, for there was nothing visible.
« Farther in—farther i in,†a shrill voice cried, making
itself heard over the gabble of fifty others. “ My Jenny
says he went in theer.â€
I was still some distance off, but I could see Gentles
the unmistakable splash the broom in again, and then
over and over again, while women were wringing their
hands, and giving bits of advice which seemed to have
no effect upon Gentles, who kept splashing away with
the broom.
Just then a tall figure in bonnet and shawl came
hurrying from the other end of the path, and joined
the group about the same time as I did.
There was no mistaking Mrs. Gentles without her
voice, which she soon made heard.
« DANGEROUS ACCIDENT. 305
“ Whose bairn is it?†she cried loudly, and throwing
off her bonnet and shawl as she spoke.
“Thine—it’s thy little Hsau—playing on the edge
—got shoved in,†was babbled out by a dozen women;
while Gentles did not speak, but went on pushing in
the broom, giving it a mow round like a scythe, and
pulling it out.
“Wheer? Oh, my gracious!†panted Mrs. Gentles,
“wheer did he go in?â€
Poor woman! A dozen hands pointed to different
parts of the bank many yards apart, and I saw her
turn quite white as she rushed at her husband and
tore the broom from his hands.
“What's the good o’ that, thou Maulkin,â€! she cried,
giving him a push that sent him staggering away; and
without a moment’s hesitation she stooped, tightened
her garments round her, and jumped right into the
dam, which was deeper than she thought, for she went
under in the great splash she made, losing her footing,
and a dread fell upon all till they saw the great stal-
wart woman rise and shake the water from her face,
and stand chest deep,and then shoulder deep, as, sobbing
hysterically, she reached out in all directions with the
broom, trying to find the child.
“Was it anywheers about here—anywheers about
here?†she cried, as she waded to and fro in a state of
frantic excitement, and a storm of affirmations re-
sponded, while her husband, who seemed quite out of
place among so many women, stood rubbing his head
in a stolid way.
“Quiet, bairns!†shrieked one of the women, stamp-
ing her foot fiercely at the group of children who had
been playing about after childhood’s fashion in the
most dangerous place they could find.
Her voice was magical, for it quelled a perfect babel
of sobs and cries. And all the while poor Mrs. Gentles
1 Scarecrow.
(322) U
306 I TRY.
was reaching out, so reckless of herself that she was
where the water reached her chin, and could hardly
keep her footing,
“Call thysen a man!†shouted the woman who had
silenced the children. “Go in or thow'llt lose thy wife
and bairn too.â€
But Gentles paid no heed to the admonition. He
stood rubbing his ear softly, though he gave a satisfied
grunt as he saw the fierce virago of a woman who had
spoken, leap in after Mrs. Gentles, and wade out so as
to hold her left hand.
Where had the child tumbled in? No one knew, for
the frightened little ones who had spread the news,
running away home as soon as their playmate had
toppled in with a splash, were too scared to remember
the exact spot.
I had not been idle all this time, but as the above
scene was in progress I had taken off jacket, vest, and
cap, handing them to a woman to hold, and had just
finished kicking off my boots and socks, carefully
watching the surface of the water the while, under the
impression that the poor child would rise to the surface.
All at once I caught sight of something far to the
right of us, and evidently beg taken by the current
towards the sluice where the big wheel was in motion.
It might be the child, or it might only be a piece of
paper floating there, but I had no time to investigate
that, and, running along the path till I was opposite
the place, I plunged head first in, rose, shook the water
from my eyes, and swam as rapidly as my clothes
would allow towards the spot.
The women set up a ery and the children shrieked,
and as I swam steadily on I could hear away to my
left the two women come splashing and wading
through the water till they were opposite to where I
was swimming.
“Oh, quick! quick, my lad!†cried Mrs, Gentles; and
DIVING. 307
her agonized voice sent a thrill through me far more
than did the shrieking chorus of the women as they
shouted words of encouragement to me to proceed.
I did not need the encouragement, for 1 was swim-
ming my best, not making rapid strokes, but, as Uncle
Jack had often shown me in river and sea, taking a
long, slow, vigorous stroke, well to the end, one that is
more effective, and which can be long sustained.
But though I tried my best, I was still some feet
from the spot where I had seen the floating object,
when it seemed to fade away, and there was nothing
visible when I reached the place.
“There! there!†shrieked Mrs. Gentles; “can’t you
gee him—there?â€
She could not see any more than I could, as I raised
myself as high as possible, treading water, and then
paddling round like a dog in search of something
thrown in which has sunk.
The little fellow had gone, and there was nothing
for it but to dive, and as I had often done before, I
turned over and went down into the black water to
try and find the drowning child.
I stayed down as long as I could, came up, and
looked round amidst a tremendous chorus of cries, and
then dived again like a duck.
Pray, don’t think I was doing anything brave or
heroic, for it seemed to me nothing of the kind. I had
been so drilled by my uncles in leaping off banks, and
out of a boat, and in diving after eggs thrown down
in the clear water, that, save the being dressed, it was
a very ordinary task to me; in fact, I believe I could
have swum steadily on for an hour if there had been
any need, and gone on diving as often as I liked.
So I went under again and again, with the current
always taking me on toward the sluice, and giving way
to it; for, of course, the child would, I felt, be carried
that way too.
308 NEARLY LOST.
Every time I rose there was the shrieking and cry-
ing of the women and the prayerful words of the mother
bidding me try; and had not her woman friend clung
to her arm, I believe she would have struggled into
deep water and been drowned.
I caught glimpses of her, and of Gentles standing on
the bank rubbing his ear as I dived down again in
quite a hopeless way now, and, stopping down a much
shorter time, I had given a kick or two, and was rising,
when my hands touched something which glided away.
This encouraged me, and I just took my breath above
water, heard the cries, and dived again, to have the
water thundering in my ears.
For a few moments I could feel nothing; then my
left hand ‘touched a bundle of clothes, and in another
moment I was at the surface with the child’s head
above water, and swimming with all my might for the
side.
There was a wild shriek of excitement to greet me,
and then there was very nearly a terrible catastrophe
for finale to the scene, for, as soon as she saw that I
had hold of her child, the frantic mother shook off her
companion, and with a mingling of the tragic and
ludicrous reached out with the broom to drag us both in.
Her excitement was too much for her; she took a
step forward to reach us, slipped into deep water, went
under, and the next minute she had risen, snatched at
me, and we were struggling together.
I was quite paralysed, while the poor woman had
lost her head completely, and was blind by trying to
save herself—holding on to me with all her might.
Under the circumstances it is no wonder that I be-
came helpless and confused, and that we sank together
in the deep water close now to the dam head, and then
all was black confusion, for my sensations were very
different to what they were when I made my volun-
tary dives.
RESCUE. 309
It was matter of moments, though, and then a strong
hand gripped me by the arm, we were dragged to the
side, and a dozen hands were ready to help us out on
to the bank,
“Give me the child,†said a strange voice. “ Which
is the house? Here Zhe mother and one woman,
come. Keep the crowd away.â€
In a confused way I saw a tall man in black take
the child in his arms, and I thought how wet he would
make himself; w hile Mrs. Gentles, panting and gasp-
ing for breath, seized me by the hand; and then they
passed on in the middle of the crowd, augmented by a
number of workmen, and disappeared into the cottage
I knew so well.
“What! was it you, Uncle Jack?†I said, looking up
in his grave big eyes.
“Yes, my boy; and I only just came in time. How
are you?â€
“Horribly wet,’ I said grimly and with a shiver.
Then forcing a laugh as he held my hands tightly in
his. “ Why, : you're Fast as bad.â€
“Yes, but you—are you all right?â€
cs Oh, yes, uncle! there’s nothing the matter with
me.’
“Then come along and let’s run home. Never mind
appearances; let’s get into some dry clothes. But I
should like to hear about the child.â€
It was an easy thing to say, but not to do. We
wanted to go to Gentles’ house, but we were sur-
rounded by a dense crowd; and the next minute a lot
of rough men were shaking both Uncle Jack’s hands
and fighting one with the other to get hold of them,
while J—
Just fancy being in the middle of a crowd of women,
and all of them wanting to throw their arms round me
and kiss me at once. ;
That was my fate then; and regardless of my resis-
310 WE MAKE FRIENDS.
tance one motherly body after another seized me, kiss-
ing my cheeks roundly, straining me to her bosom, and
calline me her “brave lad!†or her “bonny bairn!†or
“my mahn!â€
I had to be kissed and hand-shaken till I would
gladly have escaped for very shame; and at last Uncle
Jack rescued me, coming to my side smiling and look-
ing round.
“If he’s thy bairn, mester,â€â€™ cried the virago-like
woman who had helped Mrs. Gentles, “thou ought to
be proud of him.â€
“And so I am,†eried Uncle Jack, laying his hand
upon my shoulder.
Here there was a loud “hurrah!†set up by the men,
and the women joined in shrilly, while a couple of men
with big mugs elbowed their-way towards us.
“Here, lay holt, mester,†said one to Uncle Jack;
“drink that-—it'll keep out the cold.â€
At the same moment a mug was forced into my
hand, and in response to a nod trom Uncle Jack I took
a hearty draught of some strong mixture which I
believe was gin and beer.
“ How is the child?†said Uncle Jack.
“Doctor says he can’t tell yet, but hopes he'll pull
bairn through.â€
“Now, my lads,†said Uncle Jack, “you don’t want
us to catch cold?â€
“ No.—Hurray!â€
“Nor you neither, my good women?â€
“Nay, God bless thee, no!†was chorused.
“Then good-bye! and if one of you will run down
to our place and tell us how the little child is by and
by, Pll be glad.â€
“Nay, thou'llt shake han’s wi’ me first,†said the big
virago-like woman, whose drenched clothes clung to
her from top to toe.
“That I will,†cried Uncle Jack, suiting the action
TREATED AS HEROES, 311
to the word by holding out his; but to his surprise the
woman laid her hands upon his shoulders, the tears
streaming down her cheeks, and kissed him in simple
north-country fashion.
“God bless thee, my mahn!†she said with a sob.
“Thou may’st be a Lunnoner, but thow’rt a true un,
and thou’st saved to-day as good a wife and mother as
ever stepped.â€
Here there was another tremendous cheer; and to
avoid fresh demonstrations I snatched my clothes from
the woman who held them, and we hurried off to get
back to Mrs. Stephenson's as quickly and quietly as we
could.
Quickly! quietly! We were mad to expect it; for
we had to go home in the midst of a rapidly-increasing
crowd, who kept up volley after volley of cheers, and
pressed to our sides to shake hands.
That latter display of friendliness we escaped during
the finish of our journey; for in spite of all Uncle Jack
could do to prevent it, big as he was, they hoisted
him on the shoulders of a couple of great furnace-
men, a couple more carrying me, and so we were taken
home.
I never felt. so much ashamed in iy life, but there
was nothing for it but to be patient; and, like most of
such scenes, it came to an end by our reaching Mrs.
Stephenson’s and nearly frightening her to death.
“Bless my heart!†she cried, “I thought there’d been
some accident, and you was both brought home halt
killed. Just hark at ’em! The street’s full, and the
carts can hardly get by.â€
«And so it was; for whenever, as I towelled myself
into a glow, I peeped round the blind, there was the
ereat crowd shouting and hurrahing with all their
might.
For the greater part they were workmen and boys,
all in their shirt-sleeves and without caps; but there
1?
312 THE BRASS BAND.
was a large sprinkling of big motherly women there;
and the more I looked the more abashed I felt, for
first one and then another seemed to be telling the
story to a listening knot, as I could see by the motion
of her hands imitating swimming.
Two hours after we were cheered by the news that
my efforts had not been in vain, for after a long fight
the doctor had brought the child to; and that night,
when we thought all the fuss was over, there came six
great booms from a big drum, and a powerful brass
band struck up, “See, the Conquering Hero comes!â€
Then the mob that had gathered cheered and shouted
till we went to the window and thanked them; and
then they cheered again, growing quite mad with ex-
citement as a bic strapping woman, in a black silk
bonnet and a scarlet shawl, came up to the door and
was admitted and brought into the parlour.
I was horrified, for it was big Mrs. Gentles, and I
had a dread of another scene.
I need not have been alarmed, for there was a sweet
natural quietness in the woman that surprised us all,
as she said with the tears running down her cheeks:
“Tm only a poor common sort of woman, gentlemen,
but I think a deal o’ my bairns, and I’ve come to say
Pll never forget a prayer for the bonny boy who saved
my little laddie, nor for the true brave gentleman who
saved me to keep them still.â€
Uncle Jack shook hands with her, insisting upon her
having a glass of wine, but she would not sit down,
and after she had drunk her wine she turned to me.
I put out my hand, but she threw her arms round
my neck, kissed me quickly on each cheek, and ran
sobbing out of the room, and nearly oversetting Mr.
Tomplin, who was coming up.
“ Hallo, my hero!†he cried, shaking hands with me.
“ Please, please don’t, Mr. Tomplin,†I cried. “TI feel
as if I'd never do such a thing again as long as I live.â€
A GENTLE VISITOR. 313
“Don’t say that, my boy,†he cried. “Say it if you
like, though. You don’t mean it. I say, though, you
folks have done it now.â€
We had done more than we thought, for the next
morning when we walked down to the office and Uncle
Jack was saying that we must not be done out of
our holiday, who should be waiting at the gate but
Gentles.
“Ugh!†said Uncle Jack; “there’s that scoundrel.
I hate that man. I wish it had been someone else’s
child you had saved, Cob. Well, my man,†he cried
roughly, “what is it?â€
Gentles had taken off his cap, a piece of politeness
very rare among his set, and he looked down on the
ground for a minute or two, and then ended a painful
silence by saying:
“Tve been a reg’lar bad un to you and yours, mester;
but it was the traiide as made me do it.â€
“ Well, that’s all over now, Gentles, and you’ve come
to apologize?â€
“Yes, mester, that’s it. I’m down sorry, I am, and
if you'll tek me on again I'll sarve you like a man—
ay, and Ill feight for thee like a man agen the traide.â€
“ Are you out of work?â€
“Nay, mester, I can always get plenty if I like to
wuck.â€
“Do you mean what you say, Gentles?â€
“Why, mester, wouldn't I hev been going to club
to-day for money to bury a bairn and best wife a man
ivver hed if it hadn’t been for you two. Mester, I’d
do owt for you now.â€
“IT believe you, Gentles,†said Uncle Jack in his firm
way. “Go back to your stone.â€
Gentles smiled all over his face, and ran in before
us whistling loudly with his fingers, and the men all
turned out and cheered us over and over again, look-
ing as delighted as so many boys.
314 MRS. GENTLES’ BOYS.
“Mr. Tomplin’s right,†said Uncle Dick; “we've
done it at last.â€
“No, not yet,†said Uncle Jack; “we've won the
men to our side and all who know us will take our
part, but there is that ugly demon to exorcise yet that
they call the traiide.â€
That night I was going back alone when my heart
gave a sort of leap, for just before me, and apparently
waylaying me, were two of the boys who had been
foremost in hunting me that day. My temper rose
and my cheeks flushed; but they had come upon no
inimical errand, for they both laughed in a tone that
bespoke them the sons of Gentles, and the bigger one
spoke in a bashful sort of way.
“ Moother said we was to come and ax your pardon,
mester. It were on’y meant for a game, and she
leathered us both for it.â€
“And will you hev this?†said the other, holding
out something in a piece of brown paper.
“T sha’n’t take any more notice of it,’ I said quietly,
“but I don’t want any present.â€
“There, moother said he’d be over proud to tak it,â€
said the younger lad resentfully to his brother.
“No, I am not too proud,’ I said; “give it to me.
What is it?â€
“Best knife they maks at our wucks,†said the boy
eagerly. “It’s rare stoof. I say, we’re going to learn
to swim like thou.â€
They both nodded and went away, leaving me think-
ing that I was after this to be friends with the Arrow-
field boys as well as the men.
They need not have put it in the newspaper, but
there it was, a long account headed “ Gallant rescue by
a boy.†It was dressed up ina way that made my
cheeks tingle, and a few days later the tears came into
my eyes as I read a letter from my mother telling me
she had read in the newspaper what I had done, and—
THE CHAPS FRO’ LUNNON. 315
There, I will not. set that down. It was what my
mother said, and every British boy knows what his
mother would say of an accident like that.
It was wonderful how the works progressed after
this, and how differently the men met us. It was not
only our own, but the men at all the works about us.
Instead of a scowl or a stare there was a nod, and a
eruff “good morning.†In fact, we seemed to have
lived down the prejudice against the “chaps fro’ Lun-
non, and their contrapshions;†but my uncles knew
only too well that they had not mastered the invisible
enemy called the trade.
CHAPTER XXV.
A TERRIBLE RISK.
AAT are you staring at, Cob?â€
It was Uncle Jack who spoke, and
Uncle Dick had just come up with him,
to find me in the yard, looking up at the
building.
It was dinner hour, and all the men had gone but
Pannell, who was sitting on a piece of iron out in the
yard calmly cutting his bread and meat into squares
and then masticating them as if it were so much tilt-
hammer work that he had to do by the piece.
“T was thinking, Uncle, suppose they were to set
fire to us some night, what should we do?â€
“Hah! yes: not a bad thought,†said Uncle Dick
sharply. “Pannell!â€
“Hillo!†said that gentleman, rising slowly.
“Finish eating your bread and meat as you go, will
you, and buy us twenty-four buckets.â€
“ Fower-and-twenty boockets,†said Pannell, speak-
ine with his mouth full. “What do yow want wi’
fower-and-twenty boockets?â€
“Tl show you this evening,†replied my uncle; and,
handing the man a couple of sovereigns, Pannell went
off, and both Uncle Jack and I laughed at the quick
way in which Uncle Dick had determined to be pro-
vided for an emergency.
FIRE DRILL. 317
The buckets came, and were run by their handles
upon a pole which was supported upon two great hooks
in one of the outhouses against the wall of the yard,
and some of the men noticed them, but the greater
part seemed to pay not the slightest heed to this addi-
tion to our defences.
But at leaving time, after a few words from Uncle
Dick to Uncle Jack, the latter stood in the yard as the
men came out, and said sharply:
“ Four-and-twenty men for a window wash. Who'll
help?â€
A few months before, such a demand would have
been met with a scowl; but quite a little crowd of the
men now stopped, and Pannell said with a grin:
“Wonder whether there’ll be a boocket o’ beer
efter?â€
“Why, of course there will, my lad,†cried Uncle
Jack, who ranged the men in order.
Why, ’tis like being drilled for milishy, mester,â€
said one man, and there was a roar of laughter
as the buckets were passed out of the shed, and
the men were placed in two rows, with Uncle Jack
at one end, Uncle Dick at the other; the two ends
resting, as a soldier would say, on the dam, and on
the works.
It was wonderful how a little management and
discipline made easy such a business as this, and I
could not help smiling as I saw how my idea had
been acted upon.
There were a few sharp words of command given,
and then Uncle Jack dipped his bucket into the dam
from the stone edee where we had bathed poor Piter,
filled it, passed it on to No. 1 of the first row, and
took a bucket from the last man of the second row, to
fill. Meanwhile the first bucket was being passed
on from hand to hand through a dozen pairs when it
reached Uncle Dick, who seized it, hurled it up against
318 Is IT PEACE?
the grimy windows of the works, and then passed it to
the first man of the second row.
In a minute or two the men were working like a
great machine, the pails being dipped and running,
or rather being swung, from hand to hand till they
reached Unele Dick, who dashed the water over the
windows, and here and there, while the empty buckets
ran back to Uncle Jack.
The men thoroughly enjoyed it, and Pannell shouted
that this would be the way to put out a fire. But my
uncles did not take up the idea, working steadily on,
and shifting the line till the whole of the glazed win-
dows had been sluiced, and a lot of the grit and rubbish
washed away from the sills and places, after which the
buckets were again slung in a row and the men had
their beer, said “Good-night!†quite cheerily, and went
away.
“There,†said Uncle Dick, “I call that business.
How well the lads worked!â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack with a sigh of content as he
wiped his streaming brow; “we could not have got on
with them like that three months ago.â€
“No,†said Uncle Bob, who had been looking on
with me, and keeping dry; “the medicine is working
faster and faster; they are beginning to find us out.â€
“Yes,†said Uncle Dick. “I think we may say it is
peace now.â€
“Don’t be in too great a hurry, my boys,†said Uncle
Jack. “There is a good deal more to do yet.â€
It is one of the terrible misfortunes of a town like
Arrowfield that accidents among the work-people are
so common. There was an excellent hospital there, and
it was too often called into use by some horror or
another.
It would be a terrible tale to tell of the mishaps that
we heard of from week to week: men burned by
A HORROR. 319
hot twining rods; by the falling o‘ masses of iron or
steel that were being forged; by blows of hammers;
and above all in the casting-shops, when glowing fluid
metal was poured into some mould which had not
been examined to see whether it was free from water.
Do you know what happens then? Some perhaps
do not. The fluid metal runs into the mould, and
in an instant the water is turned into steam, by whose
mighty power the metal is sent flying like a shower,
the mould rent to pieces, and all who are within range
are horribly burned.
That steam is a wonderful slave, but what a master!
It is kept bound in strong fetters by those who force
its obedience; but woe to those who give it the oppor-
tunity to escape by some neglect of the proper pre-
cautions. .
One accident occurred at Arrowfield during the win-
ter which seemed to give the final touch to my uncles’
increasing popularity with the work-people, and we
should have had peace, if it had not been for the act
of a few malicious wretches that took place a month
or too later.
It was one evening when we had left the works
early with the intention of having a good long fireside
evening, and perhaps a walk out in the frosty winter
night after supper, that as we were going down one of
the busy lanes with its works on either side, we were
suddenly arrested by a deafening report followed by
the noise of falling beams and brickwork.
As far as we could judge it was not many hundred
yards away, and it seemed to be succeeded by a ter-
rible silence.
Then there was the rushing of feet, the shouting of
men, and a peculiar odour smote upon our nostrils.
“Gunpowder!†I exclaimed as I thought of our
escapes.
“No,†said Uncle Dick, “Steam.â€
320 THE RIVEN BOILER.
“Yes,†said Uncle Jack. “Some great boiler has
burst. Heaven help the poor men!â€
Following the stream of people we were not long in
reaching the gateway of one of the greatest works in
Arrowfield. Everything was in such a state of con-
fusion that our entrance was not opposed; and in a
few minutes we saw by the light of flaring gas-jets,
and of a fire that had begun to blaze, one of the most
terrible scenes of disaster I had ever witnessed.
The explosion had taken place in the huge boiler-
house of the great iron-works, a wall had been hurled
down, part of the iron-beamed roof was hanging, one
great barrel-shaped boiler had been blown yards away
as if it had been a straw, and its fellow, about twenty
feet long, was ripped open and torn at the rivets, just
as if the huge plates of iron of which it was composed
were so many postage-stamps torn off and roughly
crumpled in the hand.
There was a great crowd collecting, and voices shouted
warning to beware of the falling roof and walls that
were in a crumbling condition. But these shouts were
very little heeded in the presence of the cries and
moans that could be heard amongst the piled-up brick-
work. Injured men were there, and my uncles were
among the first to rush in and begin bearing them out
—poor creatures horribly scalded and crushed.
Then there was a cry for picks and shovels—some
one was buried; and on these being brought the men
plied them bravely till there was a warning shout, and
the rescue party had only just time to save themselves
from a falling wall which toppled over with a tremen-
dous crash, and sent up a cloud of dust.
The men rushed in again, though, and in an in-
credibly short space of time they had dug and torn
away a heap of broken rubbish, beneath which moans
could be heard.
I stood close beside my uncles, as, blackened and
MORE VOLUNTEERS. 821
covered with dust and sweat, they toiled away, Uncle
Jack being the first to chase away the horrible feeling
of fear that was upon me lest they should be too late.
“ Here he is,†he cried; and in a few minutes more,
standing right down in a hole, he lifted the poor
maimed creature who had been crying for our help.
There was a tremendous cheer raised here, and the
poor fellow was carried out, while Uncle Dick, who,
somehow, seemed to be taking the lead, held up his
hand.
“ Hark!†he said.
But there was no sound.
“Tf there is no living creature here,†he said, “we
must get out. It is not safe to work till the roof has
been blown down or fallen. If there is anyone alive,
my lads, we must have him out at all risks.â€
There was a cheer at this, and then, as soon as he
could get silence, Uncle Jack shouted:
“Ts anyone here?â€
There was a low wailing cry for help far back beyond
the ripped-up boiler, and in what, with tottering wall
and hanging roof, was a place too dangerous to ap-
proach.
“Come, lads, we must have him out,†cried Uncle
Dick; but a gentleman, who was evidently one of the
managers, exclaimed:
“No, it is too dangerous.â€
“ Volunteers!†cried Uncle Dick.
Unele Jack, Uncle Bob, Pannell, Stevens, and four
more men went to his side, and in the midst of a
deathly silence we saw them go softly in and disappear
in the gloom of the great wrecked boiler-house.
Then there was utter silence, out of which Uncle
Dick’s voice came loud and clear, but ominously fol-
lowed by the rattling down of some fragments of
brick.
“Where are you? Try and speak.â€
(322) x
322 A FEARFUL RISK.
A low piteous moan was the reply.
“All right, my lads, down here!†we heard Uncle
Jack ery. “No picks—hands, hands.â€
“ And work gently,†cried Uncle Dick.
Then, in the midst of the gloom we could hear the
rattling of bricks and stones, and though we could see
nothing we could realize that these brave men were
digging down with their hands to try and get out the
buried stoker.
The flames burned up brightly, casting curious
shadows, and though we could see nothing, lighting
the men over their gallant task, while I, as I gazed in,
trying to penetrate the gloom, felt as if I ought to be
there by my uncles’ side.
This feeling grew so strong that at last I took afew
steps forward, but only to be seized by a pair of strong
arms and brought back.
“ Nay, nay, lad,†said a voice that I started to hear,
for it was Gentles’; “there’s plenty risking their lives
theer. Yow stay.â€
Just then there was a hoarse shriek of terror, a wild
yell from the crowd, for a curious rushing rumble was
heard, a dull thud, and another cloud of dust came
rolling out, looking like smoke as it mingled with the
fire,
In the midst of this the men who had been digging
in the ruins came rushing out.
“Part of the roof,’ cried Uncle Dick, panting, “and
the rest’s falling.. Are you all here, lads?â€
“Ay, all,†was answered as they looked from one to
the other in the flickering light.
“ Nay, not all,†shouted Stevens. “Owd lad Pannell’s
buried alive. I see ’un fall.â€
There was a murmur of horror and a burst of wail-
ing, for now a number of women had joined the
throng.
“Are you hurt?†I cried anxiously.
FOR THE SAKE OF THE INJURED. 323
“Only a few cuts and bruises, Cob,†said Uncle
Dick. “Now, my lads, quick, We must have them
out.â€
The men stopped short, and there was a low anery
murmur like the muttering of a coming storm.
“Quick, my lads, quick!â€
There was a hoarse ery for help from out of the
ruins, and I knew it must be our poor smith.
“No, sir, stop,†cried the gentleman who had before
spoken. “Td dare anything, but we have sacrificed
one life in trying to save others. I have just been
round, and I say that at the least movement of the
ruins the left wall must come down.â€
There was a loud cry of assent to this, and amongst
shouts and a confused murmur of voices there came
out of the gloom that fearful cry again:
“Help!â€
“The wall must fall, men,†cried Uncle Dick loudly.
“T can’t stand and hear that cry and not go. Once
more volunteers.â€
Half a dozen men started out of the crowd; but the
peril was too great. They shrank back, and I saw
my three uncles standing together in the bright light
of the burning building, blackened, bleeding, and in
rags.
Then Uncle Dick put out his two hands, and
Uncle Jack and Uncle Bob took them. They stood
together for a short minute, and then went towards
the tottering wall.
“Stop!†cried the gentleman. “You must not risk
your lives.â€
For answer Uncle Jack turned his great manly face
towards us and waved his hand.
Then they disappeared in the gloom, and a curious
murmur ran along the great crowd. It was neither
sigh, groan, nor cry, but a low hushed murmur of all
these; and once more, as a dead silence fell, we heard
3824 PANNELL IS SAVED.
that piteous cry, followed by a hoarse cheer, as if the
sufferer had seen help come.
Then, as we listened in dead silence, the rattling of
brickwork came again, mingled with the fluttering of
the flames and the crackle and roar of burning as the
fire leaped up higher and higher from what had been
one of the furnace-holes, and across which a number of
rafters and beams had fallen, and were blazing brightly,
to light up the horrible scene of ruin.
Rattle and crash of bricks and beams, and we all
knew that my uncles must be working like giants.
“J daren’t go, Mester Jacob,’ whispered Gentles.
“Td do owt for the brave lads, but. it’s death to go.
It’s death, and I daren’t.â€
All at once, as everyone was listening for the fall of
the tottering wall, some one caught sight of the moving
figures, and a deafening cheer rose up as Uncle Dick
appeared carrying the legs and Uncles Jack and Bob
the arms of a man.
They came towards where I was standing, so that I
was by when poor Pannell was laid down, and I went
on one knee by his side.
“Much hurt?†I panted.
“Nay, more scared than hurt, lad,†he said. “I was
buried up to my neck, and feeling’s gone out of my
legs.â€
“Stop now, gentlemen, for heaven’s sake!†cried the
manager.
“What! and leave a poor fellow we have promised
to come back and help!†cried Uncle Dick with a laugh.
“But it is certain death to go in, gentlemen,†cried
the manager passionately. “At the least vibration the
roof will fall. I should feel answerable for your lives.
I tell you it is death to go.â€
“Jt is moral death to stay away,†cried Uncle Dick.
“What would you do, Cob?â€
“Go!†I cried proudly, and then I started up panting,
A NOISE LIKE THUNDER. 325
almost sobbing, to try and stop them. “No, no,†I
cried; “the danger is too great.â€
I saw them wave their hands in answer to the cheer
that rose, and I saw Pannell wave his with a hoarse
“ Hooroar!†and then the gloom had swallowed them
up again.
“TI lay close to the poor lad,†whispered Pannell.
“Reo’lar buried alive. Asked me to kill him out of
his misery, he did, as I lay there; but I said, ‘Howd
on, my lad. Them three mesters ll fetch us out;’ and
so they will.â€
“If the roof don’t fall,†said a low voice close by
me, and the same voice said, “ Lift this poor fellow up
and take him to the infirmary.â€
“Nay, I weant go,†cried Pannell, “aw want to stay
here and see them mesters come out.â€
“Tet him rest,†said the manager, and upon his ask-
ing me I raised Pannell’s head, and let him rest against
my chest.
Then amidst the painful silence, and the fluttering
and crackling of the fire, we heard again the rattling
of bricks and stones; but it was mingled with the fall-
ing of pieces from the roof. Then there was a crash
and a shriek from the women as a cloud of dust rose,
and my heart seemed to stand still, for I felt that my
uncles must have been buried; but no, the sound of the
bricks and stones being dragged out still went on, and
the men gave another cheer.
The manager went round again to the back of the
place, and came tearing back with three or four men
shouting loudly:
“Come out! Come out! She’s going!â€
Then there was a horrible ery, for with a noise like
thunder the left side and part of the roof of the build-
ing fell.
The dust was tremendous, and it was some minutes
before the crowd could rush in armed with shovels
326 ANOTHER THREAT.
and picks to dig out the bodies of the brave men
buried.
The murmur was like that of the sea, for every man
seemed to be talking excitedly, and as I knelt there
by Pannell I held the poor fellow’s hand, clinging to
him now, and too much shocked and unnerved to
speak.
“They're killed—they’re killed,†I groaned.
But as I spoke the words the people seemed to have
gone mad; they burst into such a tremendous cheer,
backing away from the ruins, and dividing as they
reached us to make way for my uncles to bear to the
side of Pannell the insensible tigure of the man they
had saved.
That brave act performed for an utter stranger made
the Arrowfield men talk of my uncles afterwards as
being of what they called real grit; and all through
the winter and during the cold spring months every-
thing prospered wonderfully at the works. We could
have had any number of men, and for some time it
was dangerous for my uncles—and let me modestly
say I seemed to share their glory—to go anywhere
near a gathering of the workmen, they were so cheered
and hero-worshipped.
But in spite of this good feeling there was no con-
cealing the fact that a kind of ill-will was fostered
against our works on account of the new inventions
and contrivances we had. From whence this ill-will
originated it was impossible to say, but there it was
like a smouldering fire, ready to break forth when the
time should come.
“ Another threatening letter,†Uncle Jack would say,
for he generally attended to post matters.
“Give it to me,†said Uncle Bob. “Those letters
make the best pipe-lights, they are so incendiary.â€
“Shall we take any notice—appeal to the men—
advertise a reward for the sender?â€
COWARDS WORK. 327
“No,†said Uncle Dick. “With patience we have
got the majority of the workmen with us. Well
show them we trust to them for our defence. Give
me that letter.â€
Uncle Jack passed the insulting threat, and Uncle
Dick gummed it and stuck it on a sheet of foolscap,
and taking four waters, moistened them and stuck the
foolseap on the office door with, written above it to
order by me in a bold text hand:
“Cowards’ Work.â€
and beneath it:
“To be Treated with the Contempt
it Deserves.â€
But as time went on the threats received about what
would be done if such and such processes were not
given up grew so serious that when Mr. Tomplin was
told he said that we ought to put ourselves under the
care of the police.
“No,†said Uncle Dick firmly; “we began on the
principle of being just to our workmen, and of showing
them that we studied their interests as well as our own,
that we are their friends as well as masters, and that
we want them to be our friends.â€
“But they will not be,†said Mr. Tomplin, shaking
his head.
“But they are,†said Uncle Dick. “What took place
when I stuck that last threat on the door?â€
“The men hooted and yelled and spat upon it.â€
“But was that an honest demonstration?â€
“T believe it was.â€
“Well,†said Mr. Tomplin, “we shall see. You
gentlemen quite upset my calculations, bub I must
congratulate you upon the manner in which you have
made your way with the men.â€
328 TO SEE THE SENTRY,
“T wish we could get hold of the scoundrels who
send these letters.â€
“Yes,†said Mr. Tomplin; “the wire-pullers who make
use of the men for their own ends, and will not let the
poor fellows be frank and honest when they would.
They’re a fine race of fellows if they are led right, but
too often they are led wrong.â€
The days glided on, and as there were no results
from these threats we began to laugh at them when
they came, especially as Tom Searby the watchman also
said they were good for pipe-lights, and that was all.
But one night Uncle Dick took it into his head to
go down to the works and see that all was right.
Nothing of the kind had been done before since the
watchman came, for everything went on all right; the
place was as it should be, no bands were touched, and
there seemed to be no reason for showing any doubt
of the man; and so Uncle Jack said when Uncle Dick
talked of going.
“No, there is no reason,†said Uncle Dick; “but I
cannot help feeling that we have been lulling ourselves
too much into a feeling of security about the place. I
shall wait till about one o’clock, and then walk
down.â€
“No, no,†said Uncle Jack; “I’m tired. Had a very
heavy day, and of course you cannot go alone.â€
“Why not?â€
“ Because we should not let you. Even Cob would
insist upon going.â€
“Of course!†I said. “I had made up my mind to
20.â€
“It's quite right,†said Uncle Bob. “We've been
remiss. When sentries are set the superior officers
always make a point of going their rounds to see if
they are all right. Go, Dick, and we'll come with
you.
I HEAR WHISPERING. 329
Unele Dick protested, but we had our own way, and
about a quarter to one on a bitter March night we let
ourselves out and walked down to the works.
For my part I would far rather have gone to bed,
but after a few minutes the excitement of the pro-
ceeding began to assert itself, and I was bright and
wakeful enough.
We walked quickly and briskly on till we came to
the lane by the factory wall; but instead of turning
down we all walked on along the edge of the dam,
which gleamed coldly beneath the frosty stars. It
was very full, for there had been a good deal of rain;
and though the air was frosty there was a suggestion
of change and more rain before long.
When we reached the top of the dam we turned and
looked back.
Everything was as quiet as could be, and here and
there the glow from the lowered furnace fires made
a faint halo about the dark building, so quiet and still
after the hurry and buzz of the day.
As we went back along the dam the wavelets lapped
the stone edge, and down below on the other side, as
well as by the waste sluice, we could hear the water
rushing along towards the lower part of the town,
and onward to the big river that would finally carry
it to the sea.
We were very silent, for every one was watching
the works, till, as Uncle Dick and I reached the lane,
we stopped short, for I caught his arm.
I had certainly heard whispering.
There were half a dozen persons down near the gate,
but whoever they were they came towards us, said
“cood-night!†roughly, turned the corner, and went
away.
It looked suspicious for half a dozen men to be down
there in the middle of the night, but their manner was
inoffensive and civil, and we could see nothing wrong.
330 A SLEEPING WATCHMAN.
Uncle Dick slipped his key into the lock, and as he
opened. the little door in the gate there was a low
growl and the rush of feet.
“ Piter’s on the watch,†I said quietly, and the growl
turned to a whine of welcome.
“Be on the look-out,†said Uncle Dick; “we must
speak or Searby may attack us.â€
“Right!†said Uncle Jack; “but he had better not.â€
The dog did not bark, but trotted on before us, and
we could just see him as we took a look round the
yard before going into the buildings.
Everything was quite right as far as we could tell.
Nothing unusual to be seen anywhere, and we went at
last to the main entrance.
“Nothing could be better,†said Uncle Dick. “Only
there is no watchman. I say, was I right in coming?â€
“Right enough,†replied Uncle Jack; “but look out
now for squalls. Men in the dark have a suspicious
look.â€
We entered, peered in at the great orinding-shop, and
then began to ascend the stairs to the upper works.
“All right!†said Uncle Dick. “I wish we had a
light. Can you hear him?â€
He had stopped short on the landing, and we could
hear a low, muttering noise, like a bass saw cutting
hard leather.
Score! score! score! slowly and regularly; the heavy
breathing of a deep sleeper.
“Tm glad we’ve got a good watcher,†said Uncle
Jack drily. “Here, Piter, dog, fetch him out. Wake
him then.â€
The dog understood him, for he burst into a furious
fit of barking and charged up into the big workshop,
and then there was a worrying noise as if he were
dragging at the watchman’s jacket.
“Get out! Be off! Do you hear!â€
“ Hi, Searby!†roared Uncle Jack.
A GENUINE LETTER. 331
There was a plunge, and a rush to the door, and
Searby’s big voice cried:
“Stand back, lads, or Pll blow out thee brains.â€
“What with?†said Uncle Bob; “the forge blast?
There, come down.â€
Searby came down quickly.
“Lucky for yow that one of yo’ spoke,†he said. “1
heard you coming, and was lying wait for you. Don't
do it agen, mesters. I might hev half-killed yo’.â€
“Next time you lie in wait,†said Uncle Dick, “don’t
breathe so loudly, my man, or you will never trap the
visitors. They may think you are asleep.â€
“Give him another chance,†said Uncle Jack as we
went home.
“Yes,†said Uncle Bob; “it is partly our fault. If
we had visited him once or twice he would have been
always on the watch.â€
“Well,†said Uncle Dick, “I don’t want to be un-
merciful, and it will be a lesson. He'll work hard to
regain our confidence.â€
Next morning there were two letters in strange
hands, which Uncle Jack read and then handed round.
One was a threat such as had often been received
before; but the other was of a very different class. It
was as follows:
“ Mesters, — Theres somwhat up. We dowt kno
wat, but game o’ some kind’s going to be played. Owd
Tommy Searby gos sleep ivuery night, and he’s no good.
Some on us gives a look now an’ then o nights but
yowd beter wetch in place yoursens.—Some frends.â€
“That’s genuine,†said Uncle Dick emphatically.
“What's to be done?â€
“Go and do as they advise,†said Uncle Jack. “You
see we have won the fellows over, and they actually
act as a sort of police for us.â€
832 UNCLE JACK’S RIGHT.
The consequence of this letter was that sometimes
all four, sometimes only two of us went and kept
watch there of a night, very much to old Searby’s dis-
cust, but we could not afford to heed him, and night
after night we lost our rest for nothing.
“Are we being laughed at?†said Uncle Bob wearily
one night; “I’m getting very tired of this.â€
“So we all are, my dear fellow,†said Uncle Jack:
“but I can’t help thinking that it is serious.â€
Uncle Jack was right, for serious it proved.
CHAPTER XXVL
FIRE AND WATER.
NE dark night at the end of March we went
down to the works all four, meaning to watch
two and two through the dark hours. The
wind blew hard and the rain fell, and as
we reached the lane we could hear the water lapping
and beating against the sluice and the stones that
formed the head of the dam, while the waste rushed
away with a hollow roar.
“Pity to lose so much good power,†said Uncle
Jack.
“Sun and wind will bring it back to the hills,†said
Uncle Dick gravely. “There is no waste in nature.â€
I half expected to see a group of men, friends or
enemies, waiting about; but not a soul was in sight,
and as we reached the gates I shivered involuntarily
and thought that people must have very serious spite
against us if they left their snug firesides to attack us
on a night like that.
Uncle Dick opened the little door in the gate and
we stepped in, but to our surprise there was no low
growl and then whine of recognition from Piter.
“That’s strange,†said Unele Jack suspiciously, and
he walked on quickly to the door of the building and
listened.
There was no dog there, and his chain and collar did
334 TWO GUARDIANS MISSING.
not hang over the kennel as if they had been taken
from the dog’s neck. They were gone.
This seemed very strange, and what was more
strange still, though we went from grinding shop to
smithy after smithy, furnace house and shed, there
was no sien of the dog, and everything seemed to point
to the fact that he had been led away by his chain,
and was a prisoner somewhere.
“Looks like mischief,†whispered Uncle Bob.
“Where's that scoundrel lying asleep?â€
We went upstairs to see, and expected to find our
careful watchman carefully curled up somewhere, but
there was no snoring this time, and Uncle Bob’s threat
of a bucket of water to wake him did not assume
substance and action.
For though we searched everywhere it soon became
evident that Searby was not present, and that we had
come to find the works deserted.
“Then there is going to be some attack made,†said
Uncle Dick. “I’m glad we came.â€
“Shall you warn the police?†I whispered.
“No,†said Uncle Jack sharply. “If we warn the
police the scoundrels will get to know, and no attack
will be made.â€
“So much the better,’ I said. “Isn’t it?â€
“No, my lad. If they did not come to-night they
would be here some other time when we had not been
warned. We are prepared now, so let them come and
we may give them such a lesson as shall induce them
to leave us in peace for the future.â€
“Do you mean to fight, then?†I asked.
“Most decidedly, boy. For our rights, for our place
where we win our livelihood. We should be cowards
if we did not. You must play the dog’s part for us
with your sharp eyes and ears. Recollect we have
right on our side and they have wrong.’
“Let’s put the fort in a state of defence,†said Uncle
IN A STATE OF DEFENCE, 335
Dick merrily “Perhaps it will turn out to be all
nonsense, but we must be prepared. What do you
say—divide in two watches as we proposed, and take
turn and turn?â€
“No: we'll all watch together to-night in case any-
thing serious should be meant.â€
It did seem so vexatious that a small party of men
should be able to keep up this system of warfare in
the great manufacturing town. Here had my uncles
brought a certain amount of prosperity to the place by
establishing these works; the men had found out
their worth and respected them, and everything was
going on in the most prosperous way, and yet we
were being assailed with threats, and it was quite
possible that at any moment some cruel blow might be
struck.
I felt very nervous that night, but I drew courage
from my uncles, who seemed to take everything in the
coolest and most matter-of-fact way. They went
round to the buildings where the fires were banked
up and glowing or smouldering, ready to be brought
under the influence of the blast next day and fanned
to white heat. Here every precaution was taken to
guard against danger by fire, one of the most probable
ways of attack, either by ordinary combustion or the
swift explosion of gunpowder.
“There,†said Uncle Jack after a careful inspection,
“we can dono more. If the ruffans come and blow
us up it will be pretty well ruin.â€
“While if they burn us we are handsomely insured,â€
said Uncle Dick.
“ By all means then let us be burned,†said Uncle
Bob laughing. “There, don’t let’s make mountains of
molehills. We shall not be hurt.â€
“Well,†said Uncle Dick, “I feel as if we ought to
take every possible precaution; but, that done, I do
not feel much fear of anything taking place. If the
336 A STRANGE ODOUR.
scoundrels had really meant mischicf they would have
done something before now.â€
“Don’t halloa till you are out of the wood,†said
Uncle Jack. “I smell danger.â€
“Where, uncle?†I cried.
“Tn the air, boy. How the wind blows! Quite a
gale. Brings the smell of naphtha from those works
half a mile away. Shows how a scent like that will
travel.â€
“T gay, boys,†said Uncle Bob, “what a trade that
would be to carry on—that or powder-mills| The
scoundrels would regularly hold one at their mercy.â€
“Wind’s rising, and the water seems pretty lively,â€
said Uncle Dick as we sat together in the office, listen-
ing to the noises of the night.
We were quite in the dark, and from time to time
we had a look round about the yard and wall and that
side of the building, the broad dam on the other side
being our protection.
“What a curious gureline the water makes!†said
Uncle Bob as we sat listening; “anyone might think
that half a dozen bottles were being poured out at
once.
“The water plays in and out of the crevices amongst
the stones, driving the air forth. Pve often listened to
it and thought it was someone whispering out there
beneath the windows,’ said Uncle Dick.
Then came a loud gust of wind that shook the win-
dows, and directly after there was the strong sour scent
of naphtha.
“They must have had an accident—upset a tank or
something of the kind,†said Uncle Jack. “How strong
it is!â€
“Yes; quite stinging. It comes each time with the
puffs of wind. I suppose,’ continued Uncle Dick,
“vou would consider that which we smell to be a gas.â€
“ Certainly,†said Uncle Bob, who was, we considered,
A SURPRISE. 337
a pretty good chemist. “It is the evaporation of the
spirit; ib is so volatile that it turns of itself into vapour
or gas and it makes itself evident to our nostrils as it
is borne upon the air.â€
“There must be great loss in the manufacture of
such a spirit as that.â€
“Oh, they charge accordingly!†said Uncle Bob; “but
a great deal does undoubtedly pass off into —â€
He stopped short, for Uncle Jack laid his hand upon
his knee and we all listened.
“Nothing,†said the latter; but I felt sure I heard a
noise below.
“I heard the gurgling sound very plainly,†said
Uncle Dick. “There it is again. One might almost
think there was water trickling into the building.â€
“Or naphtha, judging by the smell,†said Uncle Bob.
“It’s very curious. I have it!†he cried.
“What do you mean?†said Uncle Jack sharply.
“There has been an accident, as we supposed, at the
naphtha works, and a quantity of it has Hoated down
the stream and into our dam.â€
“It has been very clever then,†said Uncle Jack
crufily, “for it has floated up stream a hundred yards
to get into our dam, and Good heavens!â€
He sprang to the window and threw it open, for at
that moment a heavy dull explosion shook the room
where we were, and in place of the darkness we could
see each other distinctly, for the place seemed to have
been filled with reflected light, which went out and
then blazed up again.
“Ah!†ejaculated Uncle Jack, “the cowards! If I
had a gun!â€
I ran to his side, and in the middle of the dam,
paddling towards the outer side, there was a sort of
raft with three men upon it, and now they were dis-
tinctly seen, for the black water of the dam seemed to
have suddenly become tawny gold, lit by a building
(322) ¥
338 IN GREAT PERIL.
burning panic, on our right. That building was our
furnace-house and the set of smithies and sheds that
connected it with the erinding-shops and offices.
Uncle Jack bang ed to the window and took the
command.
“Cob,†he cried, “run to the big bell and keep it
going. Our lads will come. Dick, throw open the
gate; Bob, follow me. Fire drill. We may nip the
blaze in the bud.â€
The fire-bell was not rung, the gate was not thrown
open; for as we ran out of the office and down the
stairs it was to step into a pool of naphtha, and in a
few instants we found that a quantity had been poured
in at the lower windows—to what extent we could not
tell—but it was evident that this had been done all
along the basement by the scoundrels on the raft, and
that they had contrived that some should reach one of
the furnaces, with the result that in an instant the
furnace-house had leaped into a mass of roaring flame,
which the brisk gale was fanning and making the fire
run along the naphtha-soaked buildings like a wave.
“Stop, stop!†roared Uncle Jack; “we can do nothing
to stay this. Back to the offices and secure all books
and papers.â€
So swiftly was the fire borne along by the gale that
we had hardly time to reach the staircase before it
came running along, licking up the naphtha, of which
a large quantity had been spilled, and as it caught
there were dozens of little explosions.
I do not think either of us gave a thought to how
we were to get away again, for the valuable books
and plans had to be sav ed at all hazar ds; so following
Uncle Jack we rushed into the big office, the safe was
opened, and as rapidly as possible a couple of tin boxes
were filled with account-books, and a number of papers
were bound round with string.
“You must look sharp,†said Uncle Bob.
SURROUNDED BY FIRE. 339
“But we must take my books, and odds and ends,
and fishing-tackle,†I cried.
“Better try and save our lives,†said Uncle Bob.
“Are you ready?â€
“No; there are some plans we must take,†said
Uncle Dick.
“Vou must leave them,†shouted Uncle Bob. “There,
you are too late!†he cried, banging to the door at the
end of the workshop; “the flame’s coming up the
stairs.â€
“We can get out of the windows,†said Uncle Jack
coolly.
“The place beneath is all on fire,†cried Uncle Bob,
flinging himself on his knees. “The floor’s quite hot.â€
We should have been suffocated only that there was
a perfect rush of cold air through the place, but mo-
ment by moment this was becoming hot and poisonous
with the gases of combustion. The flames were rush-
ing out of the grindine-shop windows beneath us, and
the yard on one side, the dam on the other, were light
as day.
In one glance over the fire and smoke I saw our
wall covered with workmen and boys, some watching,
some dropping over into the yard. While in a similar
rapid glance on the other side I saw through the flame
and smoke that on one side the dam bank was covered
with spectators, on the other there were three men
just climbing off a rough raft and descending towards
the stream just below.
“Now,†said Uncle Jack, seizing one box, “I can do
no more. Each of you take your lot and let’s go.â€
“But where ?—how?†I panted.
“Phew!â€
Uncle Jack gave vent to a long whistle that was
heard above the crackling wood, the roar of flames
carried along by the wind, and the shouts and cries of
the excited crowd in the yard.
340 “KEEP COOL!â€
“Tt’s worse than I thought,†said Uncle Jack. “We
can't get down. Keep cool, boys. We must save our
papers. Here, there is less fire at that window than at
either of the others—let’s throw the boxes out there.
They'll take care of them.â€
We ran to the far corner window, but as we reached
it a puff of flame and smoke curved in and drove us back.
It was so with every window towards the yard, and
escape was entirely cut off
The men were trying to do something to save us,
for there was a tremendous noise and excitement be-
low; but they could do absolutely nothing, so rapidly
had the grinding-shop beneath us been turned into a
fiery furnace.
And now the flames had mastered the end door,
which fell inward, and flame and black and gold clouds
of smoke rolled in.
“Quick, Cob!—into the office!†roared Uncle Dick;
and I darted in with some of the papers, followed by
the rest, Uncle Jack banging to the door.
“Keep cool, all of you,†he cried. “I must save
these books and papers.â€
“But we must save our lives, Jack,†said Uncle
Dick. “The floor’s smoking. Our only chance is to
jump into the dam.â€
“Through that blaze of flame!†said Uncle Bob
gloomily.
“Tt is our only chance,†said Uncle Jack; “but let’s
try to save our boxes as well. They will float if we
take care.â€
“Now, then, who’s first?â€
The window was open, the tin boxes and the packets
on the table, the dam beneath but invisible; for the
flame and smoke that rose from the window below
came like a fiery curtain between us and the water;
and it was through this curtain that we should have
to plunge.
“ARE YOU READY?†341
Certainly it would be a momentary affair, and then
we should be in the clear cold water; but the idea of
taking such a leap made even my stout uncles shrink
and vainly look round for some other means of escape.
But there were none that we could see. Above the
roar and crackling of the flames we could hear the
shouting of the mob and voices shrieking out more
than crying, “Jump! jump!†Everything, though, was
one whirl of confusion; and I felt half-stifled with the
terrible heat and the choking fumes that came up
between the boards and beneath the door.
It was rapidly blinding as well as confusing us; and
in those exciting moments leadership seemed to have
gone, and if even I had made a bold start the others
would have followed.
At last after what seemed to have been a long space
of time, though it was doubtless only moments, Uncle
Jack cried fiercely :
“Look: the floor’s beginning to burn. You, Dick,
out first, Cob shall follow; and we'll drop the two tin
boxes to you. You must save them. Now! are you
ready?â€
“Yes,†eried Uncle Dick, climbing on a chair, and
thrusting his arm out of the window.
As he did so, there was a puff like some gigantic
firework, and a large cloud of fiery smoke rose up full
of tiny sparks; and he shrank back with an ejaculation
of pain.
“Hot, Dick?†cried Uncle Jack almost savagely.
“Go on, lad; it will be hotter here. In five minutes
the floor will be burned through.â€
“Follow quickly, Cob,†cried Uncle Dick; and then
he paused, for there was a curious rushing noise, the
people yelled, and there were shrieks and cries, and
above all, a great trampling of feet.
We could see nothing for the flame and smoke that
rose before the window; and just then the roar of the
342 AT THE LAST MOMENT.
flames seemed to increase, and our position became un-
endurable.
But still that was a curious rushing noise in the air,
a roar as of thunder and pouring, hissing rain, and a
railway train rushing by and coming nearer and nearer
every moment; and then, as Uncle Dick was about to
step forth into the blaze and leap into the dam, Uncle
Jack caught him and held him back.
Almost at the same moment the rush and roar in-
creased a hundred-fold, confusing and startling us, and
then, as if by magic, there was a tremendous thud
against the walls that shook the foundations; a fierce
hissing noise, and one moment we were standing in the
midst of glowing light, the next moment we were to
our waists in water dashed against the opposite wall,
and all was black darkness.
As we struggled to our feet the water was sinking,
but the horrible crashing, rushing noise was still going
on—water, a huge river of water was rushing right
through our factory threatening to sweep it away, and
then the flood seemed to sink as quickly as it had
come, and we stood holding hands, listening to the
eurgling rush that was rapidly dying away.
“ What is it?†panted Uncle Bob.
“Life. Thank heaven, we are saved!†said Uncle
Dick fervently.
“Amen!†exclaimed Uncle Jack. “Why, Dick,†he
cried, “that great dam up in the hills must have burst
and come sweeping down the vale!â€
Uncle Jack was right, for almost as he spoke we
could hear voices shouting “rezzyvoyer;†and for the
moment we forgot our own troubles in the thought of
the horrors that must have taken place up the vale.
But we could not stay where we were, half suffocated
by the steam that rose, and, opening the door, which
broke away half burned through, we stood once more
in the long workshop, which seemed little changed,
“A SIGHT 0’ MISCHIEF.†343
save that here and there a black chasm yawned in the
floor, among which we had to thread our way to where
the stout door had been.
That and the staircase were gone, so that our only
chance was to descend by lowering ourselves and drop-
ping to the ground.
Just then we heard the splashing of feet in the yard,
and a voice we recognized as Pannell cried:
“Mebbe they’ve ‘got away. Ahoy there, mesters!
Mester Jacob!â€
“ Ahoy!†I shouted; and a ringing cheer went up from
twenty throats.
“We're all right,†I cried, only nearly smothered.
“Can you get a short ladder?â€
“ Ay, lad,†eried another familiar voice; and another
shouted, “Owd Jones has got one;†and I was sure it
was Gentles who spoke.
“ How’s the place, Pannell?†cried Uncle Dick, lean-
ing out of one of the windows.
“So dark, mester, I can hardly see, but fire’s put
right out, and these here buildings be aw reight, but
wheer the smithies and furnace was is nobbut ground.â€
“Swept away?â€
“Pretty well burned through first, mester, and then
the watter came and washed it all clear. Hey but theer’s
a sight of mischief done, I fear.â€
A short ladder was soon brought, and the boxes and
papers were placed in safety in a neighbouring house,
after which in the darkness we tramped through the
yard, to find that it was inches deep in mud, and that
the flood had found our mill stout enough to resist its
force; but the half-burned furnace-house, the simithies,
and about sixty feet of tall stone wall had been taken
so cleanly away that even the stones were gone, while
the mill next to ours was cut right in two.
There was not a vestige of fire left, so, leaving our
further inspection to be continued in daylight, we left
344 THE MEN ON THE RAFT.
a couple of men as watchers, and were going to join
the hurrying crowd, when I caught Uncle Dick’s arm.
“Well?†he exclaimed.
“Did you see where those men went as they got off
the raft?â€
“They seemed to be climbing down into the hollow
beside the river,†he said:
“Yes,†I whispered with a curious catching of the
breath, “and then the flood came.â€
He gripped my hand, and stood thinking for a few
moments.
“Tt is impossible to say,†he cried at last. “But
come along, we may be of some service to those in
trouble.â€
In that spirit we went on down to the lower part
of the town, following the course of the flood, and
finding fresh horrors at every turn.
CHAPTER XXVIL
EIGHT YEARS LATER.
a) ANCY the horrors of that night! The great
dam about which one of my uncles had ex-
pressed his doubts when we visited it the
previous year, and of which he had spoken
as our engine, had given way in the centre of the vast
earthen wall like a railway embankment. A little crack
had grown and grown—the trickling water that came
through had run into a stream, then into a river, and
then a vast breach in the embankment was made, and
a wall of water had rushed down the valley swiftly as
a fast train, carrying destruction before it.
The ruin of that night is historical, and when after
a few hours we made our way up the valley, it was to
see at every turn the devastation that had been caused.
Mills and houses had been swept away as if they had
been corks, stronely-built works with massive stone
walls had crumbled away like cardboard, and their
machinery had been carried down by the great wave
of water, stones, gravel, and mud.
Trees had been lifted up by their roots; rows of
cottages cut in half; banks of the valley carved out,
and for miles and miles, down in the bottom by the
course of the little river, the face of the country was
changed. Here where a beautiful garden had stretched
down to the stream was a bed of gravel and sand;
346 THE WORK OF THE FLOOD.
there where verdant meadows had lain were sheets of
mud; and in hundreds of places trees, plants, and the
very earth had been swept clear away down to where
there was only solid rock.
When we reached the great embankment the main
part of the water was gone, and in the middle there
was the huge gap through which it had escaped.
“Too much water for so frail a dam,’ said Uncle
Jack sententiously. “Boys, we must not bemoan our
loss in the face of such a catastrophe as this.â€
We had no right, for to us the flood, exhausted and
spread by its eicht-mile race, had been our saving, the
ereater part of our destruction being by fire, for which
we should have recompense; while for the poor crea-
tures who had been in an instant robbed of home and
in many cases of relatives, what recompense could
there be!
The loss of life was frightful, and the scenes wit-
nessed as first one poor creature and then another was
discovered buried in sand and mud after being borne
miles by the flood, are too painful to record.
Suffice it that the flood had swept down those eight
miles of valley, doing incalculable damage, and leaving
traces that remained for years. The whole of the loss
was never known, and till then people were to a great
extent in ignorance of the power that water could
exercise. In many cases we stood appalled at the
changes made high up the valley, and the manner in
' which masses of stonework had been swept along.
Stone was plentiful in the neighbourhood and much
used in building, and wherever the flood had come in
contact with a building it was taken away bodily, to
crumble up as it was borne along, and augment the
power of the water, which became a wave charged with
stones, masses of rock, and beams of wood, ready to
batter into nothingness every obstacle that stood in its
way.
REPAIRING DAMAGES. 347
“Tt seems impossible that all this could be done in a
few minutes,†said Uncle Dick.
“No, not when you think of the power of water,â€
said Uncle Jack quietly. “Think of how helpless one
is when bathing, against an ordinary wave. Then
think of that wave a million times the size, and tear-
ing along a valley charged with debris, and racing at
you as fast as a horse could gallop.â€
We came back from the scene of desolation ready to
make light of our own trouble, and the way in which
my uncles worked to help the sufferers down in the
lower part of the town gave the finishing touches to
the work of many months.
There was so much trouble in the town and away
up the valley, so much suffering to allay, that the
firing of our works by the despicable scoundrels who
worked in secret over these misdeeds became a very
secondary matter, and seemed to cause no excitement
at all.
“But you must make a stir about this,’ said Mr.
Tomplin. “The villains who did that deed must be
brought to justice. The whole affair will have to be
investigated, and I’m afraid we shall have to begin by
arresting that man of yours—the watcher Searby.â€
But all this was not done. Searby came and gave
a good account of himself—how he had been deluded
away, and then so beaten with sticks that he was glad
to crawl home; and he needed no words to prove that
he had suffered severely in our service.
“Let's set the prosecution aside for the present,â€
said Uncle Jack, “and repair damages. We can talk
about that when the work is going again.â€
This advice was followed out, and the insurance
company proving very liberal, as soon as they were
satisfied of the place having been destroyed by fire,
better and more available buildings soon occupied the
position of the old, the machinery was repaired, and
348 PANNELL ADVISES.
in two months the works were in full swing once
more.
Tt might almost have been thought that the flood
swept away the foul element that originated the out-
rages which had disgraced the place. Be that as it
may, the burning of our works was almost the last of
these mad attempts to stop progress and intimidate
those who wished to improve upon the old style of
doing things.
I talked to Pannell and Stevens about the fire after-
wards and about having caught sight of three men
landing from a raft and going down towards the river
just before the flood came.
But they both tightened their lips and shook their
heads. They would say nothing to the point.
Pannell was the more communicative of the two,
but his remarks were rather enigmatical.
“Men jynes in things sometimes as they don’t like,
my lad. Look here,†he said, holding a glowing piece
of steel upon his anvil and giving it a tremendous
thump. “See that? I give that bit o’ steel a crack,
and it was a bad un, but I can’t take that back,
can I?â€
“No, of course not, but you can hammer the steel
into shape again.â€
“That's what some on us is trying to do, my lad,
and best thing towards doing it is holding one’s
tongue.â€
That spring my father and mother came down, and
that autumn I left Arrowfield and went to an engineer-
ing school for four years, after which I went out with
a celebrated engineer who was going to build some
iron railway bridges over one of the great Indian
rivers.
I was out there four years more, and it was with no
POOR OLD PITER. 349
little pleasure that I returned to the old country, and
went down home, to find things very little changed.
Of course my uncles were eight years older, but it
was singular how slightly they were altered. The
alteration was somewhere else.
“By the way, Cob,†said Uncle Dick, “I thought we
wouldn’t write about it at the time, and then it was
forgotten; but just now, seeing you again, all the old
struggles came back. You remember the night of the
fire?â€
“Ts it likely I could forget it?†I said.
“No, not very. But you remember going down to
the works and finding no watchman—no dog.â€
“What! Did you find out what became of poor old
Jupiter?â€
“Yes, poor fellow! The scoundrels drowned him.â€
“Oh!â€
“Yes. We had to drain the dam and have the mud
cleaned out three—four years ago, and we found his
chain twisted round a great piece of iron and the
collar still round some bones.â€
“The cowardly ruffians!†I exclaimed.
“Yes,†‘said Uncle Jack; “but that breed of work-
man seems to be dying out now.â€
“And all those troubles,†said Uncle Bob, “are
over.
That afternoon I went down to the works, which
seemed to have grown smaller in my absence; but they
were in full activity; and turning off to the new range
of smithies I entered one where a great bald-headed
man with a grisly beard was hammering away at a
piece of steel.
He did not look up as I entered, but growled out:
“I shall want noo model for them blades, Mester
John, and sooner the better.â€
“Why, Pannell, old fellow!†I said.
He raised his head and stared at me.
350 OLD FRIENDS.
“Why, what hev yow been doing to theeself, Mester
John?†he said. “Thou looks—thou looks—â€
He stopped short, and the thought suddenly came
to me that last time he saw me I was a big boy, and
that in eight years I had grown intoa broad-shouldered
man, six feet one high, and had a face bronzed by the
Indian sun, and a great thick beard.
“Why, Pannell, don’t you know me?â€
He threw down the piece of steel he had been ham-
mering, struck the anvil a clanging blow with all his
might, shouted “I’m blest!†and ran out of the smithy
shouting:
“Hey! Hi, lads! Stivins—Gentles! The hull lot
on yo! Turn out here! Hey! Hi! Here’s Mester
Jacob come back.â€
The men who had known me came running out, and
those who had not known me came to see what it all
meant, and it meant really that the rough honest
fellows were heartily glad to see me.
But first they grouped about me and stared; then
their lips spread, and they laughed at me, staring the
while as if I had been some great wild beast or a
curiosity.
“On’y to think o’ this being him!†cried Pannell;
and he stamped about, slapping first one knee and then
the other, making his leather apron sound again.
“ Vow'll let a mon shek hans wi’ thee, lad?†eried
Pannell. “Hey, that’s hearty! On’y black steel,†he
cried in apology for the state of his hand.
Then I had to shake hands all round, and listen to
the remarks made, while Gentles evidently looked on,
but with his eyes screwed tight.
“Say a—look at his arms, lads,†cried Stevens,
who was as excited as everybody. “He hev growed
a big un. Why, he bets the three mesters ’cross the
showthers.â€
Then Pannell started a cheer, and so much fuss was
PATIENCE WON. 351
made over me that I was glad to take refuge in the
office, feeling quite ashamed.
ce
Bob
“ Yes, just because I have grown as big as my big
uncles,†I said in a half-vexed way.
“No,†said Uncle Dick, “not for that, my lad. The
men remember you as being a stout-hearted plucky
boy who was always ready to crush down his weak-
ness, and fight in the cause of right.â€
“And who always treated them in a straightforward
manly way,†said Uncle Jack.
“What! do you mean to say those men remember
what I used to do?â€
“Remember!†cried Uncle Bob; “why it is one of
their staple talks about how you stood against the
night birds who used to play us such cowards’ tricks.
Why, Gentles remains 7’rappy Gentles to this day.â€
“ And bears no malice?†I said.
“Malice! Not a bit. He’s one of our most trusty
men.
“Don’t say that, Bob,†said Uncle Jack. “We haven’t
a man who wouldn’t fight for us to the end.â€
“ Not one,†said Uncle Dick. “You worked wonders
with them, Cob, when you were here.â€
“Let's see, uncles,†I said; “I’ve been away eight
years.â€
“Yes,†they said.
“Well, I haven’t learned yet what it is not to be
modest, and I hope I never shall.â€
“What do you mean?†said Unele Dick.
“What do I mean!†I said. “Why, what did I do
but what you three dear old fellows taught me? Eh?â€
There was a silence in the office for a few minutes.
No; only a pause as to words, for wheels were turning,
blades shrieking, water splashing, huge hammers thud-
Thy, Cob, you had quite an ovation,†said Uncle
352 I AM MODEST.
ding, and there was the hiss and whirr of steam- -sped
machines, added since I went away, for “ Russell’s,†as
the men called our works, was fast becoming one of
the most prosperous of the small businesses in our
town.
Then Uncle Dick spoke gravely, and said:
“ Cob, there are boys who will be taught, and boys
whom people try to teach and never seem to move.
Now you—
No, I cannot set down what he said, for I profess
to be modest still. J must leave off sometime, so it
shall be here.
THE END.
BLACKIE & SON’S
BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
“Messrs. Blackie are essentially a firm of publishers after a boy’s own heart.
Their list of stories of enterprise and adventure is perhaps unrivalled.â€â€”The
Daily News.
“The stories published by Messrs. Blackie are of the best, and the paper, print,
binding, and illustrations provided are worthy of the stories.†—Guardian.
«The lad who owns a complete collection of Mr. Henty’s writings will have a
remarkably good knowledge of the wars of the world, for all periods of history
and all parts of the globe seem equally familiar to this able author.’—Graphic.
BY G. A. HENTY.
St. Bartholomew’s Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by H. J. DRAPER,
anda Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satisfying as
the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr, G. A. Henty.â€â€”Black and
“hite,
“What would boys do without Mr. Henty? Ever fresh and vigorous, his books
have at once the solidity of history and the charm of romance. St. Bartholomew's
Eve is in his best style, and the interest never flags. The book is all that could
possibly be wished from a boy’s point of view.â€â€”Journal of Education,
“A peally good story. . . . He isa most attractive hero, always plucky and
fine-spirited. Numerous hair-breadth escapes and a happy ending—what more
could young people want? Boys, and girls too, are strongly advised to read the
book, the best Mr. Henty has provided for them lately. The illustrator, Mr.
Draper, should have his share of their gratitude.â€â€”The Bookman.
Through the Sikh War: A Tale of the Conquest of the
Punjaub. By G. A. Henry, With 12 page Illustrations by Hat
Hurst, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Percy is always well to the front in skirmishes and pitched battles. .. . His
luck is as good as his pluck, and he is covered with credit and glory.†—Témes.
“The picture of the Punjab during its last few years of independence, the
description of the battles on the Sutlej, and the portraiture generally of native
character, seem admirably true. . . . On the whole, we have never read a more
vivid and faithful narrative of military adventure in India.â€â€”The Academy.
“Tt is well to make hoys proud of the manner in which Englishmen built up
our Indian Empire, and no one knows better how to accomplish this than this
author.â€â€”Daily Graphic. A
2 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
“Mr. Henty is one of the best of story-tellers for young people.â€â€”Spectator.
Beric the Briton: A Story of the Roman Invasion. By
G. A. Henry. With 12 page Mlustrations by W. PARKINson.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
«© Beric the Briton is the boy’s book of the year.†—Observer.
“We are not aware that any one has given us quite so vigorous a picture of
Britain in the days of the Roman conquest. Mr. Henty has done his utmost to
make an impressive picture of the haughty Roman character, with its indomitable
courage, sternness, and discipline. eric is good all through.â€â€”Spectator.
In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Inde-
pendence (1821-1827). By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Mlus-
trations by W. S. Stacey, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, .
olivine edges, 6s.
“There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck
and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to
the occasion. It is an excellent story, and if the proportion of history is smaller
than usual, the whole result leaves nothing to be desired.’—Journal of Education.
Redskin and Cow-boy: A Tale of the Western Plains. By
G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Atrrep Prarse,
Crown 8vo, vloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Tt has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited and
realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure from first to
last. ‘The pictures of life on a cattle ranche are most graphically painted, as are
the manners of the reckless but jovial cow-boys.â€â€”Z'tmes.
The Dash for Khartoum: A Tale of the Nile Expedition.
By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by J. ScuénBere and
J. Nasu, and 4 Plans. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“The Dash for Khartoum is your ideal boys’ hook.â€â€” Tablet.
“Tt is literally true that the narrative never flags a moment; for the incidents
which fall to be recorded after the dash for Khartoum has been made and failed
are quite as interesting as those which precede it.â€â€”-A cademy.
By England’s Aid: The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-
1604). By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by ALFRED
Prarsr, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
‘Boys know and love Mr. Henty’s books of adventure, and will welcome his
tale of the Freeing of the Netherlands.†—A thenewm.
“The story is told with great animation, and the historical material is most
effectively combined with a most excellent plot..â€â€”Saturday Review.
By Right of Conquest: Or, With Cortez in Mexico. By
G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by W. 8. Sracey, and
2 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Mr, Henty’s skill has never een more convincingly displayed than in this
admirable and ingenious story.â€â€”Saturday Review.
“« By Right of Conquest is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful histori-
cal tale that Mr. Henty has yet published.â€â€”Acadeimy.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3
BY G. A. HENTY.
“Surely Mr. Henty should understand boys’ tustes better than any man living.â€
—The Times.
With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil
War. By G. A. Hunry. With 10 page Illustrations by Gorpon
Browne, and 6 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
““The story is a capital one and full of variety, and presents us with many
picturesque scenes of Southern life. Young Wingfield, who is conscientious,
spirited, and ‘hard as nails,’ would have been a man after the very heart of
Stonewall Jackson.â€"—T'imes.
By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Re-
public. By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by Maynarp
Brown, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
«The mission of Ned to deliver letters from William the Silent to his adherents
at Brussels, the fight of the Good Ventuae with the Spanish man-of-war, the battle
on the ice at Amsterdam, the siege of Haarlem, are all told with a vividness and
skill, which are worthy of Mr. Henty at his best.â€â€”Academy.
With Clive in India: Or, The Beginnings of an Empire.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpoy Browne.
Yrown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
«Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very
first rank. Those who know something about India will be the most ready to
thank Mr. Henty for giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands
of their children.†— Academy.
The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth
Century. By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by GorpoN
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Every boy should read The Lion of St. Mark. Mr, Henty has never produced
any story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. From first to
last it will be read with keen enjoyment.â€â€”Vhe Saturday Review.
Under Drake’s Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By
G. A. Henry. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gornon BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the
author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his
heroes are never incongruous or absurd.â€â€”Observer.
Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of Quentin Durward. The lJad’s
journey across France with his faithful attendant Malcolm, and his hairbreadth
escapes from the machinations of his father’s enemies, make up as good a
narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and
variety of incident, Mr. Henty has here surpassed himself.â€"—Spectator.
4 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
“ Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very
first rank.â€â€”Academy.
For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By
G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by 8. J. SoLomon, and
a Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Mr. Henty’s graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman
sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. The book
is one of Mr. Henty’s cleverest efforts.â€-—Graphic.
True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of
Independence. By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by
Gorpon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers. The son
of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-
skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits
of Hawkeye and Chingachgook.â€â€”The Times.
The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and
the Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Pictures
by J. Scuénserc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the
Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackay, Hepburn, and Munro
live again in Mr. Henty’s pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands
formed really the germ of the modern British army.’ —
The Young Carthaginian:
Hannibal. By G. A. Heyty. With 12 page Illustrations by C. J.
STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“The effect of an interesting story, well constructed and vividly told, is en-
hanced by the picturesque quality of the scenic background. From first to last
nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us alung as on a stream,
whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force.†—Saturday Review.
With Wolfe in Canada: Or, The Winning of a Continent.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne,
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“A model of what a boys’ story-book should be. My. Henty has a great power
of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by
him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study
as well as amusement.’’--School Guardian.
In Freedom’s Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By
G. A. Heyty. With 12 page Mlustrations by Gornon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Mr. Henty has broken new ground as an historical novelist. His tale of the
days of Wallace and Bruce is full of stirring action, and will commend itself to
boys,†—A thenewm.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 5
BY G. A. HENTY.
“Mr. Henty is one of our most successful writers of historical tales.â€â€”Sevtsiman.
Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By
G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by H. M. Pacrr. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Mr. Henty inspires a love and adiniration for straightforwardness, truth, and
courage. ‘I'his is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty has produced,
and deserves to be classed with his facing Death.â€â€”Standard,
Captain Bayley’s Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of Cali
fornia. By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Mlustrations by H. M.
Pacer. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
““A Westminster boy who makes his way in the world by hard work, good
temper, and unfailing courage. The descriptions given of life are just what a
healthy intelligent lad should delight in.â€â€”St. James's Gazette.
A Jacobite Exile: Being the Adventures of a Young Euglish-
man in the Service of Charles XII. of Sweden. By G. A. HeEnty.
With 8 page Illustrations by Paun Harpy, and a Map. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Mr. Henty has never produced a more truly historical romance, and scarcely
ever a more piquantly-written narrative. One, at least, of his battle-pieces is full
of the old ‘special correspondent’ fire.’—The Academy.
“Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at tlic
end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment
in a romantic story that must have taught him much at its close.â€"—Army and
Navy Gazette,
“Shows Mr. Henty at his best. a Jacobite (vile is full of life, adventure,
and movement, and admirably illustrated; it is in Mr, Henty’s best manner, and
while never losing sight of the imaginative and romantic interest, has a substantial
value as a bit of historical painting. ’—Scotsman.
Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia.
By G. A. Heyry. With 8 page Ilustrations by Wanrer Pacur.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“The best of this year’s Henty. His narrative is more interesting than many
of the tales with which the public is familiar, of escape from Siberia. Despite
their superior claim to authenticity these tales are without doubt no less tic-
titious than Mr. Henty’s, and he beats them hollow in the matter of sensations.
The escape of the hero and his faithful Tartar from the Samoyedes is quite the
high-water mark of this author's achievement.â€â€”National Observer.
Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Tilustrations by Gorbon
Browns. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“An extremely spirited story, based on the struggle in Treland, rendered
memorable by the defence of ‘Derry and the siege of Limerick.â€â€”Sat, Review.
“The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and vipples with life as
vivacious as if what is being described were really passing before the eye. ee
Should be in the hands of every young student of Irish history.â€--Belfast News.
6 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
“Mr. Henty is the king of story-tellers for boys.â€â€”Sword and Trowel.
One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. Hunry.
With 8 page Illustrations by W. H. Ovrrrnn, and 2 Maps. Crown
8yo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, pictur-
esque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr. Henty at his best and
brightest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter's night enthralled as he
rushes through them with breathless interest ‘from cover to cover.’â€â€”Observer.
The Cat of Bubastes: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By
G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by J. R. WEGUELIN.
Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, is.
«The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the
perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and
full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated.†—Saturday Review.
Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By
G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by Atyrep Prarssz, and
a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Tt is a book which all young people, but especially boys, will read with
avidity.â€â€”dA thenewm.
“A first-rate book for boys, brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting
conversation, and of vivid pictures of colonial life.†—Schoolmaster.
St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers.
By G A. Henry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gorpon
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Mr. Henty’s historical novels for boys bid fair to supplement, on their behalf,
the historical labours of Sir Walter Scott in the land of fiction.†—Standard.
‘CA story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the author
has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish mar-
vellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and
gentleness.â€â€”Pall Mall Gazette.
The Bravest of the Brave: With Peterborough in Spain.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. Pacer.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
«““Ma. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work—to enforce the
doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, as indispensable to the
making of an English gentleman. British lads will read The Bravest of the
Brave with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure.†—Daily Telegraph.
For Name and Fame: Or, Through Afghan Passes. By
G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“The best feature of the book, apart from its scenes of adventure, is its honest
effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan people.â€â€”Daily News.
“Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a
campaign, but, what Is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabi-
tants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for Inglishmen, as
being the key to our Indian Empire.â€â€”Glasgow Herald.
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 7
BY G. A. HENTY.
“Ma. Henty is one of the best boys’ authors now writing.â€â€”Scotsman.
Held Fast for England: A Tale of the Siege of Gibraltar.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 page [lustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Among them we would place first in interest and wholesome educational
value the story of the siege of Gibraltar. . . . There is no cessation of exciting
incident throughout the story.’—Athenewum.
In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Wesiminster
Boy. By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J.
ScHONBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s,
“Warry Sandwith, the Westininster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty’s
record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict.
The story is one of Mr. Henty’s best.â€â€”Saturday Review.
By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A.
Hesty. With 8 full-page Pictures by Gorpon Brownz. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“By Sheer Pluck will be eagerly read.†—Athenwum.
““Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting before the boys
a bright and bracing ideal of the English gentleman.â€â€”Christian Leader.
The Dragon and the Raven: Or, The Days of King
Alfred. By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J.
STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edves, 5s.
“A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, will be
surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of bloodshed and times
of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom of the Danes. We hope the
book will soon be widely known in all our schools.†—Schoolmaster.
A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by W. B. WoLLEn.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“ All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes
are in Mr. Henty’s very best vein—graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr.
Henty’s books, the tendency is to the formation of an honourable, manly, and
even heroic character.â€â€” Birmingham Post.
Facing Death: Or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of
the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Pictures by
Gorpon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Tf any father, godfather, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the look-out for a
good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we
would recommend.†—Standard.
A Chapter of Adventures: Or, Through the Bombard-
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. Henry. With 6 page Illustrations
by W. H. Overenp. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Jack Robson and his two companions have their fill of excitement, and their
chapter of adventures is so brisk and entertaining we could have wished it longer
than it is. ’—Saturday Review.
8 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY GEORGE MAC DONALD.
A Rough Shaking. By Geores Mac Doyatv. With
12 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 6s.
One of Mr. Mac Donald’s wonderful and charming stories.†—Athenceewm.
“One of the very best books for boys that has been written. It is full of mate-
rial peculiarly well adapted for the young, containing in a marked degree, the
elements of all that is necessary to make up a perfect boys’ book.â€â€”Zeachers’ Aid.
At the Back of the North Wind. By Gzorez Mac
Donatp. With 75 Illustrations by ArrHurR Hucues. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“In At the Back of the North Wind we stand with one foot in fairyland and
one on common earth. The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos,
and underlaid with earnest but not too obtrusive teaching.’â€â€”The Times.
Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood. By Grorer MacDoyatp.
With 36 Illustrations by ARTHUR Hucues. Crown 8vo, cloth ele-
gant, olivine edges, 5s.
“The sympathy with boy-nature in Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood is perfect.
It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions
all noble things.’ —British Quarterly Review.
The Princess and the Goblin. By Groraz Mac Donaxp.
With 3° Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and play of
fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Douald’s fairy tales. Mr. Arthur
Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should be.†—Janchester Guardian.
The Princess and Curdie. By Grores Mac Donaxp.
With 8 page Illustrations Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people
would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their newspapers and magazines to
spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess.†—Shegield Independent.
BY J. K. H. DENNY.
The Clever Miss Follett. By J. K. H. Denny. With
12 page Illustrations by Gerrrupe D. Hammonp. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edyes, 6s.
“The story is well written; the dialogue is easy and unconstrained, and the
intention and tone are all that could be desired.â€â€”The Spectator.
“The story is well constructed, and the character-drawing of the Follett family
is good. Girls will like the story, for it is interesting.â€"—7he Queen.
© One of the most entertaining stories of the season, full of vigorous action and
strong in character-painting. Elder girls will be charmed with it, and adults may
read its pages with profit.â€--The Teachers’ Aid.
“The story is well written ; it is not goody-goody, although its moral is ¢xcellent;
and it is just the book to give to girls. who will delight both in the Iciterpress
and the twelve illustrations by Miss Hammond, who has never done betier work,â€
—Review of Reviews.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 9
NEW EDITION OF THE UNIVERSE.
The Universe: 0:The Infinitely Great and the Infinitely Little.
A Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and
explained by Natural Science. By F. A. Poucunt, up. With
272 Engravings on wood, of which 55 are full-page size, and a
Coloured Frontispiece. Eleventh Edition, medium 8vo, cloth ele-
gant, gilt edges, 7s. 6d.; also morocco antique, 16s.
“We can honestly commend Professor Pouchet’s book, which is admirably, as
it is copiously illustrated.’â€â€”The Times.
“Searcely any book in French or in English is so likely to stimulate in the
young an interest in the physical phenomena.â€â€”Fortnightly Review.
BY ROBERT LEIGHTON.
The Wreck of ‘‘The Golden Fleece:†The Story of a
North Sea Fisher-boy. By Rosurr Leicuron. With 8 page
Illustrations by Frank Branewxy. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 5s.
“This story should add considerably to Mr. Leighton’s high reputation. Ex-
cellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The plot is very
cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors are capital."—The Times.
“Tf Mr. Leighton writes many more boys’ books of equal merit with The Wreek
of the Golden Fleece, more than one hitherto popular story-teller will have to look
to his laurels.†—. University Correspondent.
“The whole story is told simply and movingly, and will both interest and
instruct all young readers, Of the illustrations, it is enough to say that they are
by Mr. Frank Brangwyn, the best modern painter of sailors.†— The Academy.
“Tt recalls the freshness and brightness of his Pilots of Pomona. . . . Itis
a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and it is full of incident
and adventure.â€â€”Standard.
The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney Islands.
By Robert Laienron, With 8 page Illustrations by JoHn Leicu-
TON, anda Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“A story which is quite as good in its way as Treasure Tsland, and is full of
adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is primarily a boys’
book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader who likes somethin fresh—sonie-
i So y re t g ire S
thing touched with the romance and magic of youth.’ —Glasgow Evening Times.
‘His pictures of Orcadian life and nature are charming.†—Saturday Review.
“Few of this season’s books have given us so much pleasure, It is a charming
story of home-life, and takes a place among the best books for young people.â€â€”
Practical Teacher.
The Thirsty Sword: A Story of the Norse Invasion of
Scotland (1262-63). By Rosert Leicuron. With 8 page Illus-
trations by ALFRED PrarsE, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth ele-
gant, olivine edges, 5s.
“This is one of the most fascinating stories for boys that it has ever been our
pleasure to read. From first to last the interest never flags. Boys will worship
Kenric, who is a hero in every sense of the word.â€â€”Schoolimaster.
“It gives a lively idea of the wild life of the Western Islands in those rough
slays, reminding one not seldom of Sir Walter Scott’s Lord of the Isles. It is full
of incident and sensational adventure.â€"—The Guardian.
10 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
ne Mr. Fenn stands in the foremost rank of writers in this department.â€â€”Daily
News.
Quicksilver: Or, A Boy with no Skid to his Wheel. By
GEoRGE MANVILLE Fenn. With 10 page Illustrations by Frank
Dapp. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“ Quicksilver is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of story-writers
for boys—George Manville Fenn—has surpassed himself. It is an ideal book for
a boy’s library.â€â€”-Practical Teacher.
“The story is capitally told, it abounds in graphic and well-described scenes,
and it has an excellent and manly tone throughout.†—The Guardian.
Dick o’ the Fens: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. By
G. Manvitte Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Frank Dapp.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“We conscientiously believe that hoys will find it capital reading. It is full
of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the last moment. It is
vich in effective local colouring; and it has a historical interest.’—Z'imes.
“Deserves to be heartily and unreservedly praised as regards plot, incidents,
and spirit. It is its author’s masterpiece as yet.†—Spectator.
Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore. By G. Manvinis
Ferny. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browyr. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes
as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is
one of the best books we have seen this season.†—Atheneum.
The Golden Magnet: A Tale of the Land of the Incas. By
G. Manvitte Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gorpon
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“There could be no more welcome present fora boy. There is not a dull page
in the book, and many will be read with breathless interest. ‘The Golden Mag-
net’ is, of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and the heroes of West-
ward Ho!’—Journat of Education.
In the King’s Name: Or, The Cruise of the Kestrel. By
G. Manvitte Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gorpon
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“A capital boys’ story, full of incident and adventure, and told in the lively
style in which Mr. Fenn is such an adept.â€â€”Globe.
‘The best of all Mr. !enn’s productions in this field. It has the great quality
of always ‘moving on,’ adventure following adventure in constant succession.†—
Daily News.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy’s Adventures in the Eastern
Seas. By G. Manvinus Fenn. With 8 page Pictures. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“This sort of book encourages independence of character, develops resource,
and teaches a boy to keep his eyes open.†—Saturday Review.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 11
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
“No one can find his way to the hearts of lads more readily than Mr. Fenn.â€â€”
Nottingham Guardian.
Bunyip Land: The Story of 2 Wild J ourney in New Guinea.
By G. Manvints Fern. With 6 page Illustrations by Gorpon
Brownz. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s.
“Mr. i'enn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and we may ven-
ture to promise that a quiet week may be reckoned on whilst the youngsters have
such fascinating literature provided for their evenings’ amusement.†—Spectator,
Brownsmith’s Boy: A Romance in a Garden. By G. May-
VILLE Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations, New Edition. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 8s. 6d.
“Mr. Fenn’s books are among the best, if not altogether the best, of the stories
for boys. Mr, Fenn is at his best in Brownsmith’s Boy.†—Pictorial World.
See also under heading of Blackie’s 3/ Series for other Books
by G. ManviLLe Frnn,
Grettir the Outlaw: a Story of Iceland. By S. Barine-
GovLp. With 10 page Illustrations by M. Zeno Diemer, and a
Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Is the boys’ book of its year. hat is, of course, as much as to say that it
will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in simple, straightforward
Hnglish, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness, a freedom, a sense of sun
and wind and the open air, which make it irresistible.†— National Observer.
Two Thousand Years Ago: Or, The Adventures of a Roman
Boy. By Professor A.J. CHurcH. With 12 page Illustrations by
ADRIEN Maxis, Crown 8yo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
“Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely entertaining as
well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman scenes and
characters."—The Times.
The Seven Wise Scholars. By Ascorr R. Hops. With
nearly 100 Illustrations by Gorpon Brownz. Cloth elegant, 5s.
“As full of fun as a volume of Punch; with illustrations, more laughter-
provoking than most we have seen since Leech died .â€â€”Shefield Independent.
Stories of Old Renown: Tales of Knights and Heroes.
By Ascort R. Hors. With 100 Ilustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we venture to
say, not a dull page in the book, nota story which will not bear a second read-
ing.â€â€”Guardian.
12 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. NORWAY.
A True Cornish Maid. By G. Norway. With 6 page
Illustrations by J. Fixxemore. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“There is some excellent reading. . . . Mrs. Norway brings before the eyes
of her readers the good Cornish folk, their speech, their manners, and their ways.
A True Cornish Maid deserves to be popular.â€â€”ad thenwwn.
“Phe incident is plentiful and exciting; the characters are drawn with no
comnion skill, ‘The contrast between the two girls—the rough, free-spoken
Pheebe, and the refined, retiring Honor—is excellent.’â€â€”The Spectator.
« Among girls’ books the success of the year has fallen, we think, to Mrs. Norway,
whose True Cornish Maid is really an admirable picce of work. . . . The book
is full of vivid and accurate local colour; it contains, too, some very clever
character studies.†—Leview of Reviews.
Hussein the Hostage: Or, A Boy’s Adventures in Persia.
By G. Norway. With 8 page Illustrations by Jonny SCHONBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“ Hussein the Hostage is full of originality and vigour. The characters are life-
like, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, and
every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero.â€â€”Journal of Education.
The Loss of John Humble: What Led to It, and what
Came of It. By G. Norway. With 8 page Illustrations hy Jonn
Scuéxberc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It is full of life
and adventure. He is equally at home in his descriptions of life in Sweden and
in the more stirring passages of wreck and disaster. and the interest of the story
is sustained without a break from first to last.â€â€™â€”Standard.
BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD.
The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific. By
Harry CoLttinewoop. With 8 page Pictures by C. J. SraANILAND
and J. R. Weis. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“A capital story of the sea; indeed in our opinion the author is superior in some
respects as a marine novelist to the better known Mr. Clark Russell.â€â€”The Times.
The Congo Rovers: A Story of the Slave Squadron. By
Harry Cottinewoop. With 8 page Illustrations by J. ScHoONBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“No better sea story has lately been written than the Congo Rovers. It is as
original as any boy could desire.â€â€”Morning Post.
The Log of the ‘‘ Flying Fish:†A Story of Aerial and
Submarine Peril and Adventure. By Harry Cottinewoop, With
6 page Illustrations by Gorpoy Browne. New and cheaper Edi-
tion. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3. 6d.
“The Flying Fish actually surpasses all Jules Verne’s creations; with incred-
ible speed she flies through the air, skims over the surface of the water, aud darts
along the ocean bed. We strongly recommend our school-boy friends tu possess
themselves of her log.†—Atheneewm.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 13
BY DR. GORDON STABLES.
Westward with Columbus. By Gorpon Srasuas, wp.,
cM. With 8 page Illustrations by AtvreD Pearse. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“This is quite one of the best books for hoys that we have seen this autumn.
It is the duty of every British and American lad to know the story of Christopher
Columbus.’—School Guardian.
“Our author treats his subject in a dignified, historical fashion which well
becomes it, and we must place Westward with Columbus among those books that
all boys ought to read.â€â€”T'he Spectutor.
“ Will be greatly in request asa school prize. The tone is healthy, the characters
are lifelike, and the narrative of the great discoverer’s adventures through his
chequered career is replete with incidents and sensational episodes.†—Churech
Review.
‘Twixt School and College: A Tale of Self-reliance. By
GORDON STABLES, G.M., M.D., RN. With 8 page Illustrations by
V. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“One of the best of a prolific writer’s books for boys, being full of practical
instrnetions as to keeping pets, from white mice upwards, and inculcates in a way
which a little recalls Miss Edgeworth's ‘Krank’ the virtue of self-reliance,
though the local colouring of the home of the Aberdeenshire boy is a good deal
more picturesque. â€â€”A thenewm.
BY FRANCES ARMSTRONG.
A Fair Claimant: Being a Story for Girls. By Frances
Armsrronc. With 8 page Illustrations by Gertrupr D. Hammonp.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“The story is a great success—one of the best tales for girls that we have seen
for some time.â€â€”London Quarterly.
“There is a fascination about this story. . . . The splendid character of the
heroine, together with the happy manner in which the interest is sustained to the
end, vombine to make this one of the most acceptable gift-books of the season.â€
— Church Review,
“A story at once strong and sympathetic, a quality rightly esteemed at a high
value by girl readers.â€â€”The Quiver.
“As a gift-hook for big girls A Fair Claimant is among the best new books of
the kind. The story is interesting and natural, from first to last.â€â€”Westminster
Gazette.
BY ANNE BEALE.
The Heiress of Courtleroy. By Anne Beate. With 8
page Illustrations by T. C. H. Castie. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 5s.
“We can speak highly of the grace with which Miss Beale relates how the
young ‘Heiress of Courtleroy’ had such good influence over her uncle as to win
him from his intensely selfish ways.â€â€”Guardian.
“Tn Le Roy we have perhaps the most striking and original creation that Miss
Beale has made. He interests us to the last.â€â€”Spectator.
14 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY KIRK MUNROE.
The White Conquerors of Mexico: A Tale of Toltec and
Aztec. By Kirk Munror. With 8 page Illustrations by W. 8.
Stacey. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Mr. Munroe gives most vivid pictures of the religious and civil polity of the
Aztecs, and of everyday life, as he imagines it, in the streets and market-places
of the magnificent capital of Montezuma.â€â€”The Times.
“There are, in truth, fine scenes in this narrative and stirring deeds; heroism
and self-sacrifice as well as cunning cruelty. The story runs along the true lincs
of the ideal story for the young.†—Hducational Review.
“The reader becomes carried away by conflicting emotions of wonder and
sympathy, and feels compelled to pursue the story, which he cannot lay down.
No present can be more acceptable than such a volume as this, where courage,
intrepidity, resource and devotion are so pleasantly mingled. It is very fully
illustrated with pictures worthy of the book.â€â€”The Schoolinaster.
With the Sea King’s: A Story of the Days of Lord Nelson.
By F. H. Winper. With 6 page Illustrations by W. 8. Sraczy.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s.
“A really good story, and boys will like it."—The Spectator.
“Just the book to put into a boy’s hands. Every chapter contains boardings,
cuttings out, fighting pirates, esc apes of thrilling audacity, and captures by corsairs,
sufficient to turn the quietest boy’s head. ‘he story culminates in a vigorous
account of the battle of Trafalgar, as seen from the Victory. Happy boys! os
The Academy.
‘Is brimming over with realistic adventure. There is ‘derring-do’ enough here
for half a dozen volumes, and there is just that spice of history in the book which
adds interest to a narrative.â€â€”Daily Chronicle.
BY F. FRANKFORT MOORE.
Highways and High Seas: Cyril Harley’s Adventures on
both. By F. Frayxrort Moors. With 8 page Illustrations by
ALFRED PEaRSE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps the very best.
The exciting adventures among highwaymen and privateers are sure to attract
hoys. "—Speetator.
Under Hatches: Or, Ned Woodthorpe’s Adventures. By F.
Franxrort Moors. With 8 page Illustrations by A. Forestier.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all the world over. The
characters are well drawn and consistent; Patsy, the Irish steward, will be found
especially amusing.â€â€”Schoolmaster.
Giannetta: A Girl’s Story of Herself. By Rosa Munmonuanp.
With 8 page Illustrations by LockHarr Bogie. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Giannetta is a true heroine—warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good
women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of humanity. One
of the most attractive gift-books of the season.â€â€”T'he Academy.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 15
BY J. M. CALLWELL.
A Champion of the Faith: A Tale of Prince Hal and the
Lollards. By J. M. Catnwenn. With 6 page Illustrations by
Hersert J. Drarer. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s.
“A capital specimen of a historical tale, and a well-told chapter in English life
and manners in the days of Henry of Bolingbroke and his soldier-son.â€-—The
Spectator.
“Will not be less enjoyed than Mr. Henty’s books. Sir John Oldcastle’s pathetic
story, and the history of his brave young squire will make every boy enjoy this
lively story,â€â€”London Quarterly.
“The book is intensely interesting, exceedingly well written, and very well
illustrated. . . . The character of Lord Cobham, who suffered martyrdom for the
faith at the hands of his greatest friend, is beautifully drawn.â€â€”Winter’s Weekly.
BY ALICE CORKRAN.
Meg’s Friend. By Axice Corxray. With 6 page Ilustra-
tions by Roserr Fowirr. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“One of Miss Corkran’s charming books for girls, narrated in that simple
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first amongst
writers for young people.†—The Spectator.
Margery Merton’s Girlhood. By Aticr Corkray. With
6 page Pictures by Gorpon Browne, Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Another book for girls we can warmly commend. ‘There is a delightful
piquancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who studies
painting in Paris.â€â€”Saturday Review.
Down the Snow Stairs: Or, From Good-night to Good-
morning. By Axicy Corkray. With 60 Illustrations by Gorpow
Brownz, Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 3s. 6d.
‘A fascinating wonder-book for children.†—4 thenceeum. ‘ ,
“A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. It is
indeed a Little Pilgrim’s Progress.â€â€”Christian Leader.
Gold, Gold, in Cariboo: A Story of Adventure in British
Columbia. By Crive Purniiers-Wo..ey. With 6 page Illustra-
tions by G. C. HInpLEy. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.
“Tt would be difficult to say too much in favour of Gold, Gold in Cariboo. We
have seldom read a more exciting tale of wild mining adventure in a singularly
inaccessible country. There isa capital plot, and the interest is sustained to the
last page.â€â€”The Times.
“Adventure? there’s enough of it here, in all conscience, and the greed for
gold is taken at its true worth from hegiuning to end. Boys who learn from it
that there are lots of things in this world worth having besides gold, and even
without gold, will have imbibed a lesson ‘ very necessary for these times,’ and will
have had plenty of hlood-thrilling moments.’—Daily Chronicle.
16 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY SARAH DOUDNEY.
Under False Colours: A Story from Two Girls’ Lives.
By Saran Doupnry. With 6 page Illustrations by G. G. K1L-
BuRNE. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s.
“Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories—pure in
style, original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots; but we have
seen nothing from her pen equal in dramatic energy to this book.â€â€”Christian
Leader.
BY ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG.
Three Bright Girls: A Story of Chance and Mischance.
By Aynin E. ARustrone. With 6 page Illustrations by W. Par-
KINSON. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
«Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best.
‘The three girls whose portraits are so admirably painted are girls of earnest,
practical, and business-like mood. Ever bright and cheerful, they influence other
lives, and at last they come out of their trials and difficulties with honour to
themselves and benefits to all abuut them.â€â€”Zeachers’ Aid.
A Very Odd Girl: or, Life at the Gabled Farm. By Ayyie
E. Armstrone. With 6 page Illustrations by 8. T. Dapp. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright and
interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching.â€â€”The Lady.
“The doings of the heroine at the Gabled Farm are amusing in the extreme,
and her escapades are always bringing her into trouble. Vera is a fine character,
however, and our girls will all be the better for making her acquaintance.†—
Teachers’ Aid.
BY EDGAR PICKERING.
An Old-Time Yarn: Wherein is set forth divers desperate
mischances which befell Anthony Ingram and his shipmates in the
West Indies and Mexico with Hawkins and Drake. By Epcar
PIcKERING. Illustrated with 6 page Pictures drawn by ALFRED
Pearse. Crown 8yo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“And avery good yarn it is, with not a dull page from first to last. There is
a flavour of Westward Ho! in this attractive book.â€â€”Hducational Review.
“ An excellent story of adventure. Especially good is the description of Mexico
and of the dungeons of the Inquisition, while Don Diego Polo is a delightful
mixture of bravery and humour, and his rescue of the unfortunate prisoners is
told with great spirit. The book is thoroughly to be recommended,†—Guardian.
Silas Verney: A Tale of the Time of Charles II. By Epear
Proxertne. With 6 page Illustrations by ALFRED PrarsE. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Wonderful as the adventures of Silas are, if must be admitted that they are
very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Altogether this is an
excellent story for boys.â€â€”Saturday Review.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. V7
BY C. J. HYNE.
The Captured Cruiser: or, Two Years from Land. By
CG. J. Hynes. With 6 page Illustrations by Frank Branewyn.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Tt is altogether a capital story, well illustrated.†—Saturday Review.
“The two lads and the two skippers are admirably drawn. Mr. Hyne has
now secured a position in the first rank of writers of fiction for boys.†—Spectator.
Afloat at Last: A Sailor Boy’s Log of his Life at Sea. By
Joun CG. Hurcuzsoy. With 6 page Illustrations by W. H.
OvrErREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“As healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands of
a hoy.†—A cademy.
“4 tale of seafaring life told with fire and enthusiasm, full of spirited incident
and well-drawn character.†—Observer.
Picked up at Sea: Or, The Gola Miners of Minturne Creek.
By J. C. Hurcurson. With 6 page Pictures. Cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Te authors success with this book is so marked that it may weli encourage him
to further efforts. The description of mining life in the Far West is true and aceu-
rate.â€â€™â€”Stendard.
Sir Walter’s Ward: A Tale of the Crusades. By Witi1am
Everarp. With 6 page Illustrations by Wanrer Pacer. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“This book will prove a very acceptable present either to boys or girls. Both
alike will take an interest in the career of Dodo, in spite of his unheroic name,
and follow him through his numerous and exciting adventures.â€â€”Academy.
Brother and Sister: Or, The Trials of the Moore Family.
By Evazeru J. Lysacut. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown
8yo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
‘A pretty story, and well told. The plot is cleverly constructed, and the moral
is excellent.â€â€”dthenwum.
The Search for the Talisman: A Story of Labrador.
By Heyry Fritu. With 6 page Illustrations by J. ScHONBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Mr. Frith’s volume will be among those most read and highest valued. The
adventures among seals, whales, and icebergs in Labrador will delight many a
young reader."—Pall Mall Gazette.
Reefer and Rifleman: A Tale of the Two Services. By
J. Percy-Groves, late 27th Inniskillings. With 6 page Ilustra-
tions by Jonny ScuénBerc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“A good, old-fashioned, amphibious story of our fighting with the Frenchmen in
the beginning of our century, with a fair sprinkling of fun and frolic.†—Z'imes,
B
18 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY CAROLINE AUSTIN.
Cousin Geoffrey and I. By Carozine Austin. With 6
page Illustrations by W. Parxinson. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
«‘ Miss Austin’s story is bright, clever, and well developed.â€â€”Saturday Review.
«4 powerfully written and realistic story of girllife. . . . The tone of the
book is pure and good.â€â€”Practical Teacher.
Hugh Herbert’s Inheritance. By Canons Austin.
With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. Gartanp. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, 33. 6d.
“Will please by its simplicity, its tenderness, and its healthy interesting
motive. It is admirably written.â€â€”Scotsman.
Storied Holidays: A Cycle of Red-letter Days. By E. 8.
Brooks. With 12 page Illustrations by Howarp Pyrite. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Tt is a downright good book for a senior boy, and is eminently readable from
first to last.â€â€”Schoolinaster.
Chivalric Days: Stories of Courtesy and Courage in the
Olden Times. By E. & Brooxs. With 20 Illustrations by
Gorpon Browne and other Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“We have seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These charming
stories of boys and girls of olden days are no mere fictitious or imaginary sketches,
but are real and actual records of their sayings and doings.â€â€”Literury World.
Historie Boys: Their Endeavours, their Achievements, and
their Times. By E. 8. Brooxs. With 12 page Dlustrations by
R. B. Brrcu and Joun Scudyberc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“ 4 wholesome book, manly in tone, its character sketches enlivened by brisk
dialogue and high-class illustrations; altogether one that should incite boys to
further acquaintance with those rulers of men whose careers are narrated. We
advise teachers to put it on their list of prizes.’—Kuowledge.
Dr. Jolliffe’s Boys: A Tale of Weston School. By Lewis
HoucH. With 6 page Pictures. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Young people who appreciate Tom Brown's Schvol-days will find this story a
worthy companion to that fascinating book. There is the same manliness of tone,
truthfulness of outline, avoidance of exaggeration and ca ture, and healthy
morality as characterized the masterpiece of Mr. Hughes.†Newcastle Journal.
The Bubbling Teapot. A Wonder Story. By Mrs. L. W.
CHaMpNEY. With 12 page Pictures by Watrer SATTERLEE.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Very literally a ‘wonder story,’ and a wild and fanciful one. Nevertheless
it is made realistic enough. and there is a good deal of information to be gained
from it. The steam from the magic teapot bubbles up into a girl, and the little
girl, when the fancy takes her, can cry herself back into a teapot. Transformed
and enchanted she makes the tour of the globe.†—Zhke Times.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19
BY JENNETT HUMPHREYS.
Laugh and Learn: The Easiest Book of Nursery Lessons
and Nursery Games. By Jenverr Huurureys. Profusely Ilus-
trated. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Laugh and Learn instructs and amuses; it is the very book for a wet day
in the nursery, for besides solid instruction, admirably given, it contains number-
ss gunes aud contrivances, with useful and amusing illustrations. ‘"he musical
remarkably good.â€-—Atheneum.
“One of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical teaching in
word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly along a right royal road
to learning.†—Graphie.
“Every mother of children should have Laugh and Learn, and go through
with them the excellent course it contains.â€â€”Journal of Education.
BY MARY GC. ROWSELL.
Thorndyke Manor: A Tale of Jacobite Times. By Mary
C. Rowsrnr, With 6 page Illustrations by L. Lestm Brooke.
Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“Tt is a good story, with plenty of ‘go’ in it.’—Times.
“Mi Lowsell I never written a more attractive book than Thorndyke
Manor.†—Belfust News-Letter.
Traitor or Patriot? A Tale of the Rye-House Plot. By
Many C. RowseLn. With 6 page Pictures by C. O. Murray and
C.J. Staymanp, R.1. Crown 8yo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
“ Here the Rye-House Plot serves as the groundwork for a romantic love epi-
sode, whose true characters are lifelike beings, not dry sticks as in many histori-
cal tales.†—Graphie.
Dora: Or, A Girl without a Home. By Mrs. R. H. Reap. With
6 page Illustrations. CrownmS8vo, cloth elegant, 8s. 6d.
“It is no slight thing, in an age of rubbish, to get a story so pure and healthy
as this."—The dAcadeny.
Life’s Daily Ministry: A Story of Everyday Service for
Others. By Mrs. E.R. Prraan. With 4 page Illustrations. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
“Shows exquisite touches of a master hand. She depicts in graphic outline
the characteristics of the beautiful and the good in life."—Christian Union.
My Governess Life: Or, Harning my Living. By Mrs. E.
R. Pirwan. With 4 page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra,
3s. 6d.
“Full of sound teaching and bright examples of character.â€â€”S.S. Chronicle.
20 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE,
BLACKIE’S NEW THREE-SHILLING SERIES,
Beautifully Hlustrated and Handsomely Bound.
NEW VOLUMES. ;
Menhardoe: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines. By G.
Manvitte Fern. With 6 page Illustrations by C. J. Srantmann,
r.1. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.
“They are real living boys, with their virtues and faults. The Cornish fisher-
men are drawn from life, they are racy of the soil, salt with the sea-water. and
they stand out from the pages in their jerseys and sea-boots all sprinkled with
silvery pilchard scales.†—Spectator.
Yussuf the Guide: Or, The Mountain Bandits. A Story of
Strange Adventure in Asia Minor. By G. Manvitte Fenn. With
6 page Illustrations by J. Scuinperc. New Ldition. Crown Svo,
cloth extra, 3s.
“This story is told with such real freshness and vigour that the reader feels
he is actually one-of the party, sharing in the fun and facing the dangers with
them.â€â€”Pall Mall Gazette.
Robinson Crusoe. With 100 Illustrations by Gorpoy
Browne. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33.
‘*One of the best issues, if not absolutely the best, of Defoe’s work which has
ever appeared.†—Zhe Standard.
Gulliver’s Travels. With 100 Illustrations by Gorpoy
Browns. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.
“Mr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, incomparahly the most artistic,
spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of books for boys, and one of the most
humorous also, as his illustrations of ‘Gulliver’ amply testify.â€â€”Truth.
Patience Wins: or, War in the Works. By Grorcr May-
VILLE Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.
“Mr, Fenn has never hit upon a happier plan than in writing this s
Yorkshire factory life. The whole hook is all aglow with life, the scenes vary
continually with kaleidoscopic rapidity.â€â€”Pall Mall Gazette.
Mother Carey’s Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown
Isle. By G. Manvitte Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by A.
Forestier. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.
“Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. ‘he incidents are of
thrilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and completeness
rarely found in a boys’ book. The illustrations are exceptionally good.’—Liter-
ary World.
The Missing Merchantman. By Harry Conninawoop.
With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. Overenp. Crown 8vo, cloth
extra, 3s.
**One of the author’s best sea stories. ‘he hero is as heroic as any boy could
desire, and the ending is extremely happy.â€â€”British Weekly.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 21
THREE SHILLING SERIES—Continued.
The Rover’s Seeret: A Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons
of Cuba. By Harry Contincwoop. With 6 page Illustrations by
W.C. Symons. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s.
“The Rover's Secret is by far the best sea story we have read for years, and is
certain to give unalloyed pleasure to boys. The illustrations are fresh and
Vigorous.†—Saturday Review.
The Wigwam and the War-path: Stories of the Red
Indians. By Ascorr R, Horr. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s.
‘Ts notably good. It gives a very vivid picture of life among the Indians,
which will delight the heart of many a schoolboy.’—Spectator.
Perseverance Island: or, The Robinson Crusoe of the 19th
Century. By Doucias Frazar. With 6 page Illustrations.
Crown 8yvo, cloth extra, 3s.
“This is an interesting story, written with studied simplicity of style, much in
Defoe’s vein of apparent sincerity and scrupulous veracity; while for practical
instruction it is even better than Robinson Crusoe.†—Illustrated London News.
Girl Neighbours: or, The Old Fashion and the New. By
Saran Tyrver. With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. GARLAND.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 8s.
“One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Sarah Tytler’s stories.
Girl Neighbours is very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written.â€â€”The
Spectator.
BLACKIE’S HALF-CROWN SERIES.
Mlustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.
Nicola: The Caresv of a Girl Musician. By M. Corser-Szy-
mMouR. Illustrated by GrrrrupE D. Hammonp.
“There isa great deal of quiet force and strength about the story, anda kindly
and good-hearted spirit pervading the whole which makes it exceedingly pleasant
reading. I can thoroughly and heartily recommend Nicola as a present for girls.â€
— Winter's Weekly.
“The moral tone of the story is exceptionally high, and the book would bea
hoon toa girl who has, or fancies she has, a career before her.†—Practical Teacher,
A Little Handful. By Harri J. Scripps. Illustrated by
LL. Lesuik Brooke.
“CA very charming picture of a bright, lovable, mischievous boy, who hails from
the New World. Every page will afford extreme pleasure and amusement to all
children, and those who love them.’—Sehvol Guardian.
“He is a real type of a boy, a few of whom we have known, and do know, who,
under proper guidance, help to make a nation great.†—The Schoolmaster.
22 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS VOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.
A Golden Age: A Story of Four Merry Children. By Ismay
Torn. Illustrated by Gorpon Browne. New Ldition.
“Ismay Thorn has a genuine love for children. . ... A Golden Age ought to
have a place of honour on the nursery shelf.’"—Jhe Atheneum,
“This ‘story of four merry children’ is distinguished hy its charming realization
of the quaintness and oddity and merriness of children, by its romantic, almost
sentimental, pathos, and by its crisp, fluent style."—Z'he Academy.
A Rough Road: or, How the Boy Made a Man of Himself.
By Mrs. G. Lixnaus Banks. Ilustrated by Anrrep Prarsy.
“Mrs. Linneus Banks has not written a better book thau A Rough Moad.â€â€”
Spectator.
“Told with much simple force and that charm which belongs to one who has
known herself what a rough road is, and how to traverse it.â€â€”- Winter's Weekly.
The Two Dorothys: A Tale for Girls. By Mrs. Hurzerr
Manrtiy. Illustrated by Gorpon Browne.
“ A book that will not only interest and please all irls, but will also, from its
pure but unostentatious teaching, stimulate and encourage to better and higher
things, youthful hopes, dreams, and ambitions.â€â€”Vhe Lady.
Penelope and the Others: A Story of Five Country
Children. By Axry Watton. Illustrated by L. Lusiizr Brooke.
“This is a charming book for children. Miss Walton proves herself a perfect
adept in understanding of school-room joys and sorrows, and her name ought to
become a household word amongst our boys and girls.’—Christian Leader.
A Cruise in Cloudland. By Henry Friru.
“A thoroughly interesting story, especially the part dealing with the siege of
Plevna. There is an excellent sketch of General Skobeloff.â€â€”St. James's Gazette.
Marian and Dorothy. By Ayyim E. Arusrrone.
“This is distinctively a book for girls. It contains a bright wholesome story,
with the useful morals of industry and forgiveness of injuries. The book is
decidedly to be commended.â€â€”Academy.
Stimson’s Reef: A Tale of Adventure. By C. J. Hyyz.
“Few stories come within hailing distance of Stimson’s Reef in the matter of
startling incidents aud hairbreadth ’scapes. In these respects it may almost vie
with Mr. R. L. Stevenson’s matchless Treasure Island.â€â€”Guardian.
Gladys Anstruther. By Lovisa Tuomrson.
“Tt is a clever book, and some of the passages in the narrative are novel and
striking in the highest degree.â€â€™â€”Schoolmistress.
s & $
The Seeret of the Gid House. By Everyy Evernrr-
GREEN.
“Tim, the little Jacobite who asks his grandmother if she can remember
Charles L., is a charming creation. So original a child as ‘lim must win the
hearts of all who read the pleasant tale.â€. — Academy LY.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 23
HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.
Hal Hungerford. By J. R. Hurcninsos, a.
“There is no question whatever as to the spirited manner in which the story is
told; the death of the mate of the smuggler by the teeth of the dog is especially
elfective, Altogether, Hal Hungerford is a distinct literary success.†—Sypeetator,
The Golden Weathercock. By Jvz1a Gopparp.
“A cleverly conceived quaint story, in which the golden cock on the church
spire is the recipient of enchanting stories of enchanted people and places. Full of
pretty and ingenious ideas, prettily and ingeniously written.â€â€”Saiurday Review.
White Lilac: Or, The Queen of the May. By Asry Wattoy.
fs Every here and there we are reminded of Mrs. Tulliver and Sister Pullet in
the quaint dialogue of the story... . Every rural parish ought to add White
Lilac to its library,â€â€”-d eddemy.
Miriam’s Ambition. By Evenyy Evererr-Greey.
“Miss Green’s children are real British boys and girls, not small men and
women. Babs is a charming little one.â€â€”Liverpool Mercury.
The Brig ‘‘ Audacious.†By Anan Cozz,
3 y
ht and vivacious in style, and fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea air
"—Courl Journal.
The Saucy May. By Heyry Farrn.
“Mr, Vrith gives a new picture of life on the ocean wave which will be acceptable
to all young people.â€â€”Shejield Independent.
Jasper’s Conquest. By Exizaseru J. Lysacnr.
“One of the best boys’ hooks of the season. It is full of stirring adventure and
startling episodes, and yet conveys a splendid moral throughout.â€â€”Schoolmaster.
$ eL 2 3 3 S$
Little Lady Clare. By Evenyy Evererr-Gruny.
“Certainly one of the prettiest, reminding us in its quaintness and tender
pathos of Mrs. Ewing's delightful tales. This is quite one of the best stories Miss
Green's clever peu has yet given us."—Literary World.
The Eversley Seerets. By Everyy Everzrr-CGreen.
“A clever and well-told story. Roy Eversley is a very touching picture of high
principle and wnshrinking selfdevotion in a good purpose.â€â€™--Guardian.
The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By G. Srazuns, rv.
~ Pirates and pumas, mutiny and merriment, a castaway and a cat, furnish
the materials for a tale that will gladden the heart of many a bright boy.’â€â€”
Methodist Recorder.
Sturdy and Strong. By G. A. Heyry..
“The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of
modesty, and innate pluck carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. He
stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life.â€â€”The Empire.
Gutta Percha Willie, The Working Genius. By Gzoren
g
Mac Donarp.
“Tad we space we would fain quote page after page. All we have room to say
is, get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves.â€â€”Practical Teacher.
24 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.
The War of the Axe: Or, Adventures in South Africa. By
J. PERcY-GROVES.
“The story of their final escape from the Caffres is a marvellous bit of writing.
The story is well and brilliantly told.â€â€”Literary World.
The Lads of Little Clayton. By R. Srzap.
‘* 4 capital book for boys. ‘They will learn from its pages what true boy cour-
age is. ‘They will learn further to avoid all that is petty and mean if they read
the tales aright. ‘They may be read to a class with great profit.†—Schoolmaster.
Ten Boys who lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now.
By Jane Anprews. With 20 Illustrations.
“The idea of this book is a very happy one, and is admirably carried out. We
have followed the whole course of the work with exquisite pleasure. Teachers
should find it particularly interesting and suggestive.†— Practical Teacher.
A Waif of the Sea: Or, The Lost Found. By Kare Woop.
“Written with tenderness and grace, the story will appeal to mothers who
have felt the pain of being parted from their children, as powerfully as to the
hearts and sympathies of younger readers.†—Morning Advertiser.
Winnie’s Secret: A Story of Faith and Patience. By Katz
Woop.
“One of the best story-books we have read. Girls will be charmed with the
tale, and delighted that everything turns out so well.â€â€”Schoolinaster.
Miss Willowburn’s Offer. By Saran Doupyry.
«Patience Willowburn is one of Miss Doudney’s best creations, and is the one
personality in the story which can be said to give it the character of a book not
for young ladies but for girls.†—Spectator.
A Garland for Girls. By Lovisa M. Atcorv.
“The Garland will delight our girls, and show them how to make their lives
fragrant with good deeds.â€â€”British Weekly.
«These little tales are the beau ideal of girls’ stories.â€â€”Christian World.
Hetty Gray: Or, Nobody’s Bairn. By Rosa Munnonnann.
“A charming story for young folks. Hetty is a delightful creature—piquant,
tender, and true—and her varying fortunes are perfectly realistic.â€â€” World.
Brothers in Arms: A Story of the Crusades. By F. Bay-
vORD Harrison.
“ Full of striking incident, is very fairly illustrated, and may safely be chosen as
sture to prove interesting to young peuple of both sexes.†—Guardian.
The Ball of Fortune: Or, Ned Somerset’s Inheritance. By
CHARLES PEARCE.
“A capital story for boys. Tt is simply and brightly written. ‘There is plenty
of incident, and the interest is sustained throughout.â€â€”Journul of Hducution.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 25
HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.
Miss Fenwick’s Failures: Or, “ Peggy Pepper-Pot.†By
Eismis Sruarr.
“Esmé Stuart may be commended for producing a girl true to real life, who
will put no nonsense into young heads.â€â€”Graphie.
Gytha’s Message: A Tale of Saxon England. By Emaa
LESLIE.
“This is a charmingly told story. It is the sort of book that all girls and some
boys like, and can only get good from.â€â€”Journal of Education.
Jack o’ Lanthorn: A Tale of Adventure. By Hunxry Farr.
“The narrative is crushed full of stirring incident, and is sure to be a prime
favourite with our boys, who will be assisted by it in mastering a sufficiently
exciting chapter in the history of England.â€â€” Christian Leader.
The Family Failing. By Darury Date.
“At once an amusing and an interesting story, and a capital lesson on the
value of conteutedness to young and old alike.†—A berdeen Journal.
My Mistress the Queen: A Tale of the 17th Century. By
M. A. PauL.
«The style is pure and graceful, the presentation of manners and character
has been well studied, and the story is full of interest.â€â€”Scotsman.
The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff: The Deliverer of
Sweden, and the Favourite of Czar Peter.
“Both are stories worth telling more than once, and it is a a happy thought to
have put them side by side,â€â€”Speetator.
Stories of the Sea in Former Days. .-
“Next to an original sea-tale of sustained interest come well-sketched collec-
tions of maritime peril and suffering which awaken the sympathies by the realism
of fact. Stories of the Sea are a very good specimen of the kind.â€â€”Vhe Limes.
Tales of Captivity and Exile.
“It would be difficult to place in the hands of young people a book which
combines interest and instruction in a higher degree.â€â€” Manchester Courier.
Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land.
“Such a volume may providentially stir up some youths by the divine fire
kindled by these ‘great of old’ to lay open other lands.â€â€”Perth Advertiser.
Stirring Events of History.
“The volume will fairly hold its place among those which make the smaller
ways of history pleasant and attractive.’—Guardian.
Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.
“The editor has beyond all question succeeded admirably. The present book
yannot fail to be read with interest and advantage.’’—Academy.
26 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BLACKIE’S TWO-SHILLING SERIES.
Iustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.
NEW VOLUMES.
Queen of the Daffodils: A Story of High School Life. By
Lesirz Laine. Illustrated by W. Parkinson.
Raift’s Ranche: A Story of Adventure among Cowboys and
Indians. Dy PF. M. Houmes. Illustrated by Paut Harpy.
An Unexpected Hero. By Enz. J. Lysacuv.
“Among the very best of the series is, dn Unexpected Hero. There is abun-
dance of pleasant incident and skilful character delineation.â€â€”Frecman’s Jour.
The Bushranger’s Secret. By Mrs. Huyny Charxs, ia.
“One of the best stories we have had of the Australian bush, with a good plot,
an action always good, and rising into dramatic intensity at times,†—Spectator.
The White Squall. By Jonny C. Hvurcuesoy.
“This is a capital story. The descriptions of scenery and places, and especially
of the changes of calm and tempest, are lifelike and vivid.â€â€”Standard.
The Wreck of the ‘“‘Nancy Bell.†By J. C. Hurcurson.
“Phe narrative is full of excitement and interest: it cannot fail to develop
resource, and encourage independenve and manliness of character.â€â€”
The Lonely Pyramid. By J. H. Yoxatt.
“Tt is full of wild surprises and marvels. The Pyramid alone isa fascinating
invention, and the ‘lost oasis of the vision on the sand’ is even more delighttul â€
—Saturday Review.
Bab: or, The Triumph of Unselfishness. By Isuay Tuorn,
“‘ Bab is a capital story for children, who will be much amused by the picture
on the cover of the worthy doll Jocasta.â€â€”A theneumn.
Climbing the Hill, and other Stories. By Anniz S. Sway.
‘Miss Annie Swan’s children ave children, and not old people masquerading in
children’s attire. This volume of tales is made up of just the kind of incidents
of which children love to read.â€â€”Christian Leader.
Brave and True, and other Stories. By Greeson Gow.
This is one of those very few volumes which are adapted for reading aloud to
children in the nursery.†—Syectator.
The Light Princess. By Grorew Mac Donan.
“Graceful, fantastic, delicately didactic in its playfulness, this volume is likely
to give as much pleasure to the elder folk as to the younger.â€â€”Daily News.
Nutbrown Roger and I. By J. H. Yoxatu.
“The pictures of manners is perfect, the excitement, of the healthiest kind,
goes on increasing to the last. It is one of the very best and most delightful
story-books of the season.†—7'ablet.
Warner’s Chase: Or, The Gentle Heart. By AnnieS. Sway.
“In Milly Warren, the heroine, who softens the hard heart of her rich uncle,
and thus unwittingly restores the family fortunes, we have a fine ideal of real
womanly goodness.†—Schoolmaster.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 27
TWO-SHILLING SERIES—Continued.
Sam Silvan’s Saerifice. By Ju:su Conuman,
«There is a spirit of gentleness, kindliness. and tenderness manifest in every
page of this volume, which will make it an influence for good.â€â€”Christian Onion.
Insect Ways on Summer Days in.Garden, Forest, Field,
and Stream. By Jennerr Humrureys. With 70 Illustrations.
‘This book will prove not only instructive but delightful to every child whose
mind is beginning to inquire and reflect upon the wonders of nature. It is
capitally illustrated and very tastefully bound.â€â€”Academy.
Susan. By Amy Wanton.
“A clever little story, written with some humour. The author
great deal of insight into children’s feelings and motives.â€â€”Pall Jia
A Pair of Clogs. By Amy Watton.
“Decidedly interesting, and unusually true to nature. For children between
nine aud fourteen this book can be thoroughly commended.’—
The Hawthorns. By Asr Watrtoy.
«A remarkably vivid and clever study of child-life. At this species of work
Amy Walton has no superior.â€â€”Christian Leader.
Dorothy’s Dilemma. By Csrontne Austin.
“An exceptionally well-told story, and will be warmly welcomed by children.
The little heroine, Dorothy, is a charming creation.â€â€” Court Journal.
Marie’s Home. By Carontnz Austin.
“An exquisitely told story. The heroine is as fine a type of girlhood as one
could wish to set before our little British damsels of to-day.â€â€”Christian Leader.
A Warrior King. By J. Everyy.
“he friendship formed between the African Prince and Adrian Englefield will
remind the reader of the old story of the ‘wonderful love’ which existed long ago
when Jonathan and David made a covenant.’â€â€”Dundee Advertiser.
Aboard the ‘‘ Atalanta.†By Heyer Friru.
“The story is very interesting and the descriptions most graphic. We doubt
if any boy after reading it would be tempted to the great mistake of running
away from school under almost any pretext whatever.â€â€”Practical Teacher,
The Penang Pirate. By Jonny C. Hurcnszsoy.
«4 book which boys will thoroughly enjoy: rattling, adventurous, and romantic,
and the stories are thoroughly healthy in tone.â€â€”
Teddy: The Story of a“‘Little Pickle.†By Jouy C. Hurcnrson,
“He is av amusing little fellow with a rich fund of animal spirits, and when at
Jength he goes to sea with Uncle Jack he speedily sobers down under the discip-
line of life.†Saturday Review.
A Rash Promise. By Crcit1a Sensy Lownozs.
“A carefully told story; and Meg Clifford is a delightful and natural little girl.â€
—Spectator.
23 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
TWO-SHILLING SERIES—Continued.
Linda and the Boys. By Cxcitra Setzy Lownpus.
“The book is essentially a child’s book, and will be heartily appreciated by the
young folk.†—Zhe Academy.
Swiss Stories for Children. From the German of Mapam
Jouanna Spyri. By Lucy WHEELOocK.
“Charming stories. They are rich in local colouring, and, what is better, in
genuine pathos.â€--The Limes.
The Squire’s Grandson: A Devonshire Story. By J. M.
CALLWELL,
“The lessons of courage, filial affection, and devotion to duty on the part of the
young hero cannot fail to favourably impress all young readers.†—Schoolinaster,
Magna Charta Stories. Edited by Arrnur Gruman, a.m.
“A book of special excellence, which ought to be in the hands of all boys.â€â€”
Educational News.
The Wings of Courage; axp Tue Cuoup - Spinyer.
Translated from the French of Grorce Sanp, by Mrs. CorKRAN.
“Mars. Corkran has earned our gratitude by translating into readable English these
two charming little stories.†—Athenwum.
Chirp and Chatter: Or, Lessons rrom Fretp anp TREE.
By Arice Baxxs. With 54 Illustrations by Gorpon Browne.
“We sce the humbling influence of love on the haughty harvest-mouse, we are
touched by the sensibility of the tender-hearted ant, and may profit by the moral
of ‘ the disobedient maggot.’ The drawings are spirited and funny.â€â€”The Times.
Four Little Mischiefs. By Rosa Mutuonzanp.
“Graphically written, and abounds in touches of genuine humour and innocent
fun.â€â€”Freeman, ‘A charming bright story about real children.â€â€” Watchman.
New Ligh: through Old Windows. By Grucson Gow.
“The most delightfully-written little stories one can easily find in the literature
of the season. Well constructed and brightly told.â€â€”Glasgow Herald.
Little Tottie, and Two Other Stories. By THomas Arcuur.
“We can warinly commend all three stories; the book is a most alluring prize
for the younger ones.†—Sechoolinaster.
Naughty Miss Bunny. By Cuara Munuotianp.
“This naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit Naughty
Miss Bunny from their list of juvenile presents.â€â€”Land und Water.
Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be. By Avice Corxran,
“Simply a charming book for little girls.â€â€”Saturday Review.
“Just in the style and spirit to win the hearts of children.â€â€”Daily News.
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 29
The Joyous Story of Toto. By Lavra E. Rictarps.
«A very delightful book for children, which deserves to find a place in every
nursery.’—Lady’s Pictorial.
Our Dolly: Her Words and Ways. By Mrs. R.H. Reap. 2s.
Fairy Fancy: What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. Rmap. 22.
BLACKIE’S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES.
With Illustrations.
NEW
In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.
VOLUMES.
A Soldier’s Son: The Story of a Boy who Succeeded. By ANNETTE
LYsteR.
Misehief and Merry-making. By Isaseria Pearson,
Town Mice in the Country:
By M. E. Francis.
Phil and his Father.
THORN,
Prim’s Story. By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
Littlebourne Lock, By F. BAYFORD |
HARRISON.
Wild Meg and Wee Dickie. By
Mary E. Ropgs.
Grannie. By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT.
The Seed She Sowed. By EMMA
LESLIE.
Unlueky: A Fragment of a Girl’s Life.
By CAROLINE AUSTIN.
Everybody’s Business: or a Friend
in Need. By IsMAy THORN.
Tales of Daring and Danger. By
G. A. HENTY.
The Seven Golden Keys.
HE, ARNOLD.
The Story of a Queen. By Mary
C, ROWSELL.
Edwy: Or, Was he a Coward? By
ANNEVTE LYSTER.
The Battlefield Treasure.
BAYFORD HARRISON.
Joan’s Adventures at the North
Pole. By ALICE CORKRAN.
Filled with Gold. By J. PERRETT.
Our General: A Story for Girls. By
ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT,
By JAMES
By F.
By IsMAy |
| A Terrible Coward.
A Story of Holiday Adventur. .
Aunt Hesba’s Charge. By Eiza-
BETH J. LYSAGHT.
By Order of Queen Maude: A Story
of Home Life. By Louisa Crow.
The Late Miss Hollingford. ly
Rosa MULHOLLAND.
Our Frank. By AMY WALTON.
By G. MAn-
VILLE FENN.
i Yarns on the Beach. By @G. A.
| HENty.
| Tom Fineh’s Monkey. By J. ¢.
HUTCHESON.
Miss Grantley’s Girls, and the Stor:es
she told them. By THos. ARCHEK:
The Pedlar and his Dog, By Maky
C. ROWSELL.
Down and Up Again. By Grreson
Gow.
Madge’s Mistake.
ARMSTRONG.
The Troubles and Triumphs of
Little Tim. By Gruason Gow.
The Kappy Lad. A Story of Peasant
Life iu Norway. By B. BIGRNSON.
Into the Haven. By ANNIE S. SWAN.
A Box of Stories, Packed for Young
Volk by Horace HappyMAN,
By ANNIE FE.
' The Patriot Martyr: Narratives of
Jtemale Heroism.
30 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
THE SHILLING SERIES OF JUVENILES.
Square 16mo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra.
NEW VOLUMES.
Brave Dorette. By JULIA GODDARD.
Pieerust Promises. By W. L.
ROOPER.
Summer Fun and Frolic. By Isa-
BELLA PEARSON.
Little Aunt Dorothy. By JENNIE
CHAPPELL.
The Lost Dog, and other Stories.
By Ascort R. Horr.
The Rambles of Three Children.
By GERALDINE MOCKLER.
A Council of Courtiers. By Cora
LANGTON. P
A Parliament of Pickles. By Cora
LANG?ON,.
Sharp Tommy. By E. J. Lysacur.
Adventures of Nell, Eddie, and
Toby. By GERALDINE MOCKLER.
Freda’s Folly. By M. 8. Haycrarr.
Philip Danford: A Story of School
Life. By JULIA GODDARD.
Tne Youngest Princess. By JENNIE
CULAPPELL.
Arthur’s Temptation.
LESLIE,
A Change for the Worse.
Harrier M. CAPEs.
Our Two Starlings. By C. REDFoRD.
ilp. Lipscombe’s Apples, By JuLIA
GODDARD,
By EMMA
By M.
Gladys. By EH. O'BYRNE.
A Gypsy against Her Will. By
EMMA LESLIE.
The Castle on the Shore. By Isa-
BEL HORNIBROOK.
An Emigrant Boy’s Story. By
Ascory R. Horn.
Jock and his Friend. By Cora
LANGTON.
John a’ Dale. By Mary C. ROWSELL.
In the Summer Holidays. By JEN-
NEVT HUMPHREYS.
How the Strike Began.
LESLIE.
Tales from the Russian of Madame
Kubalensky. By G. JENNER.
By EMMA
Cinderella’s Cousin. By PENELOPE.
Their New Home. By A. 8. Frnn.
Janie’s Holiday. By C. REDFoRD.
A Boy Musician; or, The Young Days
of Mozart.
Hatto’s Tower. By M. C. RowsELt.
Fairy Lovebairn’s Favourites.
Alf Jetsam. By Mrs. GEO. CUPPLES.
The Redfords. By Mrs. G. CUPPLES.
Missy. by l. Bavrorbd HARRISON.
Hidden Seed. By EmMaA LESLIE.
Ursula’s Aunt. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Jack’s Two Sovereigns, By ANNIE
S. FENN,
A Little Adventurer. by G. Gow.
Olive Mount. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Three Little Ones. By C. LanctTon.
Tom Watkin’s Mistake, By EMMA
LESLIE.
Two Little Brothers.
RIET M. CAPEs.
The New Boy at Merriton. By
JULIA GobDDARD.
The Children of Haycombe. By
ANNIE S. FENN.
The Cruise of the ‘‘Petrel.†By
IF. M. HoLMEs.
The Wise Princess. By M. Harriet
M. CAPES,
The Blind Boy of Dresden and his
Sister.
Jon of Iceland.
Stories from Shakespeare.
Every Man in his Place.
and Flower
By M. Har-
Fireside Fairies
Fancies.
To the Sea in Ships.
Jack’s Victory: Stories about Dogs.
The Story of a King.
Prince Alexis: or, Old Russia.
Little Daniel: A Story of the Rhine.
Sasha the Serf: Stories of Russia.
True Stories of Foreign History,
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
3l
THE NINEPENNY SERIES OF BOOKS FOR
CHILDREN.
I’cap 8vo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra.
NEW
A Little English Gentleman.
The Doctor’s Lass.
Spark and L
What Hilda Saw.
Little Miss Masterful. By L. &. |
‘TIDDEMAN.
A Sprig of Honeysuckle: A Story
of Epping Forest. By GRORGINA
M. SQUIRE.
An Australian Childhood, By ELLEN
CAMPBELL.
Kitty Carroll.
A Joke for a Picnic.
IOOPER.
Cross Purposes, and The Shadows,
by GEORGE Mac DONALD.
Paity’s Ideas, and What Came of
Them. By L. E. TIppEMAN.
Daphne: A Story of Self-conquest.
By E. O'BYRNE.
Lily and Rose in One, By CEcrLrTa
S. LOWNDES.
Crowded Out: or, The Story of Lil’s
Patience. By M. B. MANWELL.
Tom in a Tangle. By Tl. Sparrow.
Things will Take a Turn. By
DEATRICE HARRADEN.
Max or Baby. By IsMAyY THORN.
The Lost Thimble. By Mrs. Mus-
GRAVE,
Jack-a-Dandy. By E. J. LYSacur.
A Day of Adventures, By CHar-
LOTTE WYATT.
The Golden Plums.
CLARE.
SOMETHING FOR THE
Fully Dlustrated. 64 pp., cloth.
pence exch.
Tales Easy and Small for the Young-
est of All, By J. HUMPHREYS.
Old Dick Grey and Aunt Kate’s Way.
By J. HUMPHREYS.
Maud’s Doll and Her Walk.
JELUMPHREYS.
In Holiday Time. By J. Humpnreys.
Whisk and Buzz. By Mis. A. H.
GARLICK.
By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
Ly W. L.
By FRANCIS
Six-
By J.
VOLUMES.
By Jane Duaxin.
By L. E. Tippemayn.
A Story told by a Cat.
By Preye.ore LEstiz.
By ANNIE ARMSTRONG.
The Queen of Squats.
JIORNIBROOK.
Shucks. By EuMa LESLIE.
Sylvia Brooke. By M. Harriet M.
CAPES.
The Little Cousin. By A. §. Fenn.
In Cloudland. By Mrs. MusGravn.
By ISABEL
Jack and the Gypsies. By KatTE
Woop.
Hans the Painter. By Mary C.
ROWSELL,
Little Troublesome.
HORNIBROOK.
My Lady May: and One Other Story,
By WARRIEL BOULTWOOD.
A Little Hero. By Mrs. MUs@Rave.
Prince Jon’s Pilgrimage. By
JESSIE FLEMING.
Harold’s Ambition: or, A Dream of
Fame. By JENNIE PERRET?
Sepperl the Drummer Boy. By
MARY C. ROWSELL.
Aboard the Mersey.
GEORGE CUPPLES.
A Blind Pupil. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Lost and Found. By Mrs. CARL
ROTHER.
Fisherman Grim.
ROWSELL.
VERY LITTLE ONES.
Little Tales for Little Folk.
By Miss W. L. Rooprr. Well Ius-
trated ; cloth cover; price 2d. each.
FRED'S RUN.
NORA’S DARK LOOK.
ELLA’S PALL
PATTY'S WALK.
HONEST DOLLY.
By ISABEL
By Mrs.
By Mary C.
32 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
THE SIXPENNY SERIES FOR CHILDREN.
Neatly bound in cloth extra.
NEW VOLUMES.
Mrs. Holland’s Peaches,
ELOPE LESLIE.
Marjory’s White Rat. By PENELOPE
LESLIE.
Grandmother’s Forget-me- -nots.
By AIMBE DAWson.
By PEN-
From over the Sea, By L. LK. ‘T1rppE-
MAN,
The Kitchen Cat. By AMY WALTON.
The Royal Eagle, By Louisa THoMP-
SON.
Two Little Mice. By Mrs. GARLICK.
A Little Man of War. By L. E.
‘TIDDEMAN.
Lady Daisy. By CAROLINE STEWART.
Dew. By H. Mary WILSON.
Chris’s Old Violin. By J. LockHARt.
Mischievous Jack. By A. ConKRAN.
The Twins, By L. E. TIppEMAN.
Pet’s Project. By Cora LANGTON.
The Chosen Treat. By C. Wyarr.
Little Neighbours, By A. 58. FENN.
Jim: A Story of Child Life. By CHRIS-
VIAN BURKE.
Little Curiosity. By J. M. CALLWELL.
Sara the Wool-gatherer. By W.
L. ROOPER.
Each contains 64 pages aidan Illustration.
Fairy Stories: told hy PENELOPE.
A New Year's Tale. By M. A. CURRIE.
Little Mop. By Mrs. CHARLES Bray.
The Tree Cake, and other Stories.
By W. L. Rooper.
| Nurse Peggy, and Little Dog Trip,
Fanny’s King. By DARLEY DALE.
Wild Marsh Marigolds, By D. Dain
Kitty’s Cousin. By Hannay L.
MACKENZIE.
Cleared at Last. By JULIA VCop-
DARD.
Little Dolly Forbes. By ANNIE S.
FENN. -
A Year with Nellie, By A. 8. Fenn.
The Little Brown Bird.
The Maid of Domremy, and other
Tales.
Little Eric: a Story of Honesty.
Unele Ben the Whaler.
The Palace of Luxury,
The Charcoal Burner.
Willy Black: A Story of Doing Right.
The Horse and his Ways,
The Shoemaker’s Present.
Lights to Walk by.
The Little Merchant.
Nicholina: A Story about an Iceberg.
A SERIES OF FOURPENNY REWARD BOOKS.
Each 64 pages, 18mo, Illustrated, in Picture Boards.
A Start in Life. By J. LockHanrt.
Happy Childhood. By AIMEE DE
VENOIX DAWSON.
Dorothy’s Clock. By Do.
Toddy. By L. BE. TrnpEMan.
Stories about my Dolls. By Frnicta
MELANCTHON,
Stories about my Cat Timothy.
Delia’s Boots. By W. L. Rooprr.
Lost on the Rocks, By R. Scorrer.
A Kitten’s Adventures. By Caro-
LINE STEWART.
Climbing the Hill. By ANNIE S.
SWAN,
A Year at Coverley. By ANNIR S.
SWAN.
BLACKIE
& SON,
Phil Foster. By J. Locknart.
Papa’s Birthday. By W. L. Rooper.
The Charm Fairy. By PENELopE.
Little Tales for Little Children.
By M. A. Currin.
Worthy of Trust.
KENZIE.
Brave and True, By Grr@son Gow.
Johnnie Tupper’s Temptation. Do.
Maudie and Bertie.
The Children and the Water-Lily.
By JULIA GODDARD.
Poor Tom Olliver. By Do.
Fritz’s Experiment. By Lrriria
M‘LINTOCK.
Luey’s Christmas-Box.
By H. B. Mac-
LIMITED,
LONDON, GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.