George Manville Fenn (continued 6)

All that followed in the midst of that horrible din of shrieking wind, beating spray, and thundering seemed to be a confused dream, out of which he kept thinking he should wake, as he sheltered his eyes with his hands and tried to see the boat.

But no. Once it had plunged down that hill of foamy wave it had disappeared into a mist of spray and froth; and though two or three times he fancied that he caught sight of the boat climbing some wave between where they stood and the wreck, he could not be sure.

There was confidence, though, on the part of the men who were holding the line.

“He’s paying it out right enough, the lad,” shouted one of them to Uncle Abram; and as time went on signals were exchanged that told of the safety of those in the boat.

The distance was not great, and the reef of rocks not only formed a shelter, but produced a kind of eddy, which made the passage of the boat somewhat less perilous; but all the same it was a forlorn hope, and many of the fishermen said to themselves that the next time that they saw Will Marion and Josh it would be beaten and bruised by wave and rock, and cast up upon the shore.

But the signals, jerks of the rope, kept coming, and men perched themselves high up among the rocks to watch the progress of the boat with their glasses, but in vain. All they could see was an occasional glimpse of the mizen of the ship, with a dark patch of clustering humanity.

The life-saving gear had meanwhile been carried to the spot whence the boat was started; and there was hope yet that a connection might be made between the vessel and the rocks.

But time went on—time, confused by the roar of wind and wave, and there was no sign. It had seemed utter madness for that boat to be sent forth into such a chaos of waters; but there are things which some men call mad often adventured by the brave fishers of our coast.

All at once Dick started from his father’s side to run to Uncle Abram, who had seated himself slowly upon a block of stone about which the foam floated to and fro on a few inches of water. The old man sank down in a way whose action Dick read at once, for the old fellow let his head go down upon his hands, and these rested upon his knees; and as he saw the air of utter dejection, Dick felt that poor Will must have been lost.

It seemed so horrible, so strange, that as Dick reached Abram Marion’s side he sank down on his knees beside the old man, caught at his hands, and literally sobbed out:

“Oh! don’t say he’s drowned; don’t say he’s drowned.”

There was quite a lull as he spoke; and as the old man felt the touch of the boy’s clinging hands he laid his own upon his head with a strange far-off look in his eyes.

“I don’t say so; I won’t say so!” he cried in a hoarse, passionate way. “My brave, true lad! but I oughtn’t to have let him go.”

“Hurrah!”

A loud cheer from near the water’s edge, and a quick, bustling movement among the men; and then down came the storm again, as if it had been taking breath, and the roar was deafening.

But the boat had reached the ship, of course getting under her lee, and her daring little crew had climbed on board. For there was the proof—the life-gear had been attached to the end of the line, and it was being rapidly dragged from the shore out towards the wreck.

A long, anxious time ensued, during which, while the sea end was being secured to the wreck, the shore end of the life-cable, was carried high up to the top of a cluster of rocks that formed the end of the reef, a flat place thirty feet above the level of the sea.

There were drags at that line, which the men at once knew were given by the waves, but they were mostly sharp twitches, which meant that the daring boatmen, headed by Josh, were making it fast high up somewhere in the vessel’s mizen; and at last there was an unmistakable signal which meant, “Make fast,” and the shore end was hauled tight round a mass of rock.

Then as Dick and his brother stood in the crowd, which had climbed up to the top of the rock, they saw the block that ran upon the cable set in motion by a thin line that was alongside the thick rope, and there was a burst of cheers as the cradle—that basket-like contrivance of the rocket apparatus—started off, dragged by those upon the rock, to cross the seething waves, which kept leaping up at it as if to snatch it down.

Then came a signal—a twitch of the line, and with a cheer the men on the rock hauled the cradle back—cradle indeed, for it seem to contain a new-born life, saved from inevitable death.

It was the pale, wild face of a woman, speechless with dread and exposure, that greeted the men on the rocks as they hauled in the cradle; and in a minute she was lifted out, and almost before the willing hands had lifted the poor woman down from the rock, the cradle was speeding back.

It returned quickly with a man half dead, and he, amidst rousing cheers, was lifted out, and borne to a place where he would find warmth, welcome, and shelter.

Then four more were dragged ashore over the thundering, roaring waves, as the cradle was merrily hauled to and fro.

Then came another man, but not a storm-beaten exhausted seaman. It was the well-known countenance of one of the crew that went out in the boat, and he was full of activity.

“Back with the cradle!” he shouted, “haul away. The ship won’t hold together long.”

The cradle began to run back over the swinging rope, while the man who had returned said in reply to questions:

“Those were all. The rest of the poor souls had been beaten off, and these couldn’t have lasted many minutes longer. You must look alive.”

The men waited anxiously for the signal, and then another mate was hauled over the waves, and the cradle sent back, while Dick stood trembling and wanting to ask why Will, who was a boy, had not been sent first.

Then came another, and still it was not Will.

“This time it must be he,” thought Dick; but when the cradle arrived once more, it was the face of Josh that saluted them.

“Haul back quick,” the latter said. “She was shivering under my feet when I come away.”

“And you left that boy to drown!” roared Uncle Abram, catching Josh by the throat.

Josh did not resent it, but said quietly, in a lull of the storm:

“He wouldn’t come first. It was like drowning both him and me to stand gashly arguing at a time like that.”

And now every eye was staring wildly, and with an intensity that showed how eagerly all watched for the next freight of the cradle.

“It’s hard work for the lad,” said Josh hoarsely; “and I’d give anything to be at his side. But he’ll do it if the ship hangs together long enough. Oh, pull, pull! Haul away, lads, haul!”

“He made me come—he made me come,” he cried frantically. “It was keeping the lad back to say I wouldn’t go first. I didn’t want to, lads, I didn’t want to.”

“No, no,” came in a sympathetic growl, as once more the wind lulled a little and there were symptoms of the gale being nearly over.

Then there was a groan, for Will made no signal.

“Hooray!” came from the men, as there was a sudden snatch, and the rope they were giving out was drawn rapidly. “He’s got it, he’s—got—”

The man who was joyfully shouting that stopped short as the rope ceased moving, and one, who was trying to use a telescope, shouted:

“The mizen’s over!”

“Then she’s gone to pieces, lads,” cried another.

“No,” cried the man with the glass; “part’s standing yet.”

“Hooray!” came again, as Dick stood clinging to Uncle Abram’s arm, the old man having left the stone, and standing close beside the men who hauled the cradle gear.

Short as the distance was, not a glimpse of the ship could be seen, for every wave that broke upon the rock rose in a fountain of spray, to mingle with the blinding drift and mist of foam. But all the time their eyes were strained towards the rock upon which the ship had struck, and along the reef that the venturesome boat’s crew had made the shelter which resulted in the saving of some of the poor creatures upon the wreck.

All at once, when a horrible feeling of despair had settled upon all present, there was a sharp twitch given to the line, the signal for it to be hauled, just at a time too when Josh had turned away, giving Dick a piteous look, and then gone to lean his head upon his arm against the rock.

That cheer which came as the rope was twitched seemed to send life and activity back to Josh, who dashed in among the knot of men at the rope.

“Here, let me come,” he shouted; “let me have a hand in bringing him ashore. Hurray! Master Dick, hurray! he’s saved, he’s saved!”

Was he?

The men hauled as rapidly as was consistent with safety, till the cradle with its occupant was dragged right up on to the rock, where a dozen hands were ready to lift the drooping, insensible figure out, and pour brandy between its lips.

Will opened his eyes at this and stared wildly for a few moments; then a knowledge of his position seemed to come to him, and he smiled and raised one hand.

At that moment there was a shout and the cable of the cradle gear seemed to hang loose, and the sea end to be moving shoreward, while the man with the glass shouted:

“She’s gone to pieces, lads; that last wave lifted her, and then she melted right away.”

There was no doubt about it, for the cradle gear was floating free, and the men were able to haul it in. The rest of the crew of that unfortunate ship, with twelve passengers beside, were washed ashore with the battered boat that took the line, and fragments of wreck here and there all round the coast for the next ten days or so, long after Will had well recovered from the shock of his adventure. For he had been for long enough beaten about and half drowned by the waves while striving to get the cradle rope clear of a tangle of rigging that had fallen upon it, and threatened to put an end to its further working, till he had run a most perilous risk, climbed over it, hauled the rope from the other side, and had just strength enough left to get into the cradle and give the signal, as a wave came over the doomed ship, and buried him deep beneath tons of water.

He could recollect no more than that he had tried to give the signal to be hauled ashore, and some one had held him up to pour brandy between his teeth.

Yes: there was something else he remembered very well, and that was the way in which Dick held on to him, and how Arthur had shaken hands. He recalled that, and with it especially Mr Temple’s manner, for there was a kind, fatherly way in his words and looks as he said to him gently:

“Will Marion, I should have felt very proud if one of my boys had done all this.”

Chapter Twenty Nine.

Mr Temple learns more of Will Marion’s Character written in Stones.

“Don’t say anything about it, my lad, to Will; he don’t like it known,” said Uncle Abram one day; “and I wouldn’t let out about it to his aunt.”

“I won’t tell anybody but Taff and my father,” said Dick.

Uncle Abram took his pipe out of his mouth and scratched the side of his nose with it very softly, as he looked out through the window, and its climbing-roses, to sea.

Mrs Marion had gone into Corntown marketing; Arthur was up the cliff reading in a snug corner he affected; Mr Temple had gone out alone along the cliff “on an exploring trip,” he had said with a smile; and Will was down with Josh at the lugger “overhauling,” as Josh called it, which meant running over the nets previous to a visit to the pilchard ground.

Dick was just going to join them when Uncle Abram, who was fumigating his rose-trees and enjoying his pipe at the same time, made him a signal, as he called it, and asked him if he would like to see Will’s room.

“Well,” said the old man, after a good deal of scratching with the red waxed end of his tobacco pipe.

“I s’pose you’re right, Master Richard, sir. I say don’t tell Will, because he’s so modest like, and don’t want people to know; and, I say, don’t tell his aunt, because she’s so particular like with him, and if she know’d all, she’d think he was neglecting his regular work, and that if he could find time, you see, for doing this sort of thing, he could be doing more to the boats. But I don’t see why your brother should not know, and I don’t hold with a lad keeping anything from his father.”

“And who wants to keep anything from his father?” said Mr Temple, who was just passing the window on his return. “What is it?” he continued, entering the room.

“Oh, nothing, sir; only I was going to show Master Richard here our Will’s room, and I was asking him to be a bit secret like for the lad’s sake. Mrs Marion, you see, is a—”

“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mr Temple. “May I come too?”

“If you please, sir,” said the old man smiling. “It’s in your way rather, you see, both of you being a bit fond of chip-chopping stones; not that there’s many up there now, for you see his aunt makes the lad clear ’em away now and then. Won’t have the litter, she says. But I’ve got ’em all in a box down in my toolshed, where the boy can have ’em when he likes.”

“Let’s go and see his room, then,” said Mr Temple, smiling.

“’Tarn’t much of a place, sir, being a garret,” said Uncle Abram apologetically; “but lads as goes to sea has snugger quarters sometimes than our Will’s.”

He put his pipe back in his mouth—it was out now—and held it steady as he led the way to a door in a corner at the end of the passage, and up a very steep flight of stairs to a little room with sloping ceiling, over the kitchen.

“I had this knocked up for the lad o’ purpose,” said Uncle Abram proudly. “Made it as like a cabin as I could, meaning him to be sea-going, you understand, sir, only he’s drifting away from it like. Why, bless your heart, though, Mr Temple, sir, I never find no fault with him, for there’s stuff enough in him, I think, to make a real lord-mayor. There: there’s our Will’s room.”

He stood smiling as the visitors had a good look round the scrupulously clean little cabin-like bed-room with lockers and a swinging shelf of books, and everything arranged with a neatness that was most notable.

“Those are his books, sir. Spends a deal of time over ’em.”

“Novels and romances, eh?” said Mr Temple, going to the shelf. “Why, hullo! Fowne’s Chemistry, Smyth’s Mineralogy, Murchison’s Geology. Rather serious reading for him, isn’t it?”

“Not it, sir,” cried Uncle Abram. “He loves it, sir; and look here,” he continued, opening one of the lockers; “as full of specimens as can be. All sorts of stones and bits of ore that he gets from the mines. Ah! that’s a new net he’s making; small meshed seine to catch sand-eels, sir, for bait. That’s a new shrimp-net he made for me. Mixes it up like—reads and makes nets together. Once you’ve got your fingers to know how to make a net, they’ll go on while you read.”

“What are these?” said Mr Temple, pointing at a series of rough glass bottles and oil flasks.

“Oh, that’s his apparatus he made, sir. Does chemistry with them, and there’s a little crucible in my tool-house, where he melts down tin and things sometimes, to see what they’re made of. I always encourage him, I do, just. Can’t do the boy any harm.”

“Harm! no,” said Mr Temple quietly, as he glanced through Will’s treasures with a good deal of curiosity, spending most of the time over a small glass case which was full of glittering pieces of ore.

“He seems to like the pretty bits best,” said Mr Temple; but Uncle Abram shook his head.

“Oh no, sir. Those are what his aunt likes best. She won’t have the bits of tin and rough copper ore; says they’re rubbish, bless her. She don’t know what one bit’s worth more than another, only goes by the eye, you see. I’ve got the rough bits hid away for him when he wants ’em.”

Mr Temple seemed unusually thoughtful, so it seemed to Dick, who was delighted with the quaintness of the little attic, and declaring to himself that it was just the place he should like for himself; but he wondered a little bit at his father looking so stern.

“Here, quick!” cried Uncle Abram excitedly; “that’s my boy’s step coming in back way. I don’t want him to see us. Looks like spying on him, poor lad, and I want him to enjoy himself when he isn’t at work.”

“And quite right too,” said Mr Temple quietly, as he followed the old man down the steep stairs, and they had just reached the parlour when there was a knock at the door.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said Will, who was flushed with hurrying; “but you said you would like the young gentlemen to have a sail in the trawler.”

“Sail in the trawler!” cried Dick, bounding across the room excitedly.

“Yes! Well?” said Mr Temple, smiling.

“She’s lying off the harbour, sir. I’ve seen the master, and he says the young gentlemen are welcome, and there’s a fine breeze, sir, and it’s a lovely day.”

Dick turned a look upon his father, such as a prisoner might turn upon a judge as he waited for him to speak.

“I suppose you would not like to go, Dick?” said Mr Temple dryly. “You would miss your dinner.”

“Why, father,” cried Dick in a tone of reproach, “I can have a dinner every day.”

“And a sail in a trawler only once perhaps in your life. Then be off.”

Dick bounded to the door and then stopped.

“May Taff come, father?” he cried.

“If he likes; but perhaps he wouldn’t care to go. Make him sea-sick perhaps.”

“But he may go, father?”

“Yes. But stop. Take something to eat with you in a basket.”

“The master of the smack said if the young gentlemen would come in they could have a bit of dinner on board. We could cook some fish, sir.”

“Oh!” cried Dick excitedly.

“Come, this is tempting,” said Mr Temple. “I’m half disposed to come too.”

“Do, father,” cried Dick, catching his hand. “Oh, do come.”

“No, my boy, I have some important business on hand. There, go and enjoy yourselves. You’re going, Will?” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir, if uncle can spare me, and Josh too.”

“That’s right; take care of my boys—that is, if your uncle can spare you.”

“Oh yes, oh yes! They can go. They don’t sail for the pilchard ground till sundown.”

Arthur was hunted out of his nest, and as soon as he knew of the object in view he displayed plenty of eagerness. The sight of the cutter-rigged smack lying with her bowsprit pointing to the wind, and her white mainsail flapping and quivering in the breeze, which seemed to send mimic waves chasing each other along it from mast to edge, while the jib lay all of a heap waiting to be hoisted, being one that would have roused the most phlegmatic to a desire to have a cruise, and see some of the wonders of the deep dredged up.

The master of the trawler gave the boys a hearty reception, his bronzed face expanding into a smile as he held Dick’s hand in his great hard brown heavy paw.

“So you’ve come a-trawling, have you, my lad? Well, I’m glad to see you, and you too, sir,” he added, shaking hands with Arthur in turn. “Going to stop aboard, lads?” he said in a kind of chant to Will and Josh.

“Ay, we’re going to stop,” said the latter; so the master of the trawler sent one of his own crew ashore with Uncle Abram’s boat, telling the man he could stay.

The next minute the master gave the word, and went to the tiller, a couple of men began to haul up the jib, and then Arthur was clinging frantically to Will.

“Quick! The boat!” he cried. “The ship’s going over.”

Then he turned from deadly pale to scarlet as he saw Will’s smile and look of amusement.

“It’s all right, Master Arthur,” said the latter; “it’s the wind taking hold of the mains’l. She only careens a bit.”

“But won’t it go over?”

“Over! Oh, no!” said Will; “there’s too much ballast. There, you see, now we’re beginning to move.”

“But ought the boat to go side wise like this?” whispered Arthur. “The deck’s all of a slope.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right enough. When we’re on the other tack she’ll careen over the other side. The stiffer the breeze and the more sail there is, the more she careens. I’ve been in a smack when we’ve been nearly lying down in the water, and it’s washed right over the deck.”

“There, young gents, she’s moving now,” said the master, as the gaff was hoisted, and the beautifully-shaped cutter began to rush through the water at a rapid rate, leaving two long lines of foam in an ever-widening wake, while, like some gigantic sword-fish, she ploughed her way through the glittering sea. The sails bellied out tense and stiff, and the wind whistled as it seemed to sweep off the three sails.

There was no doubt about it; either the cutter was moving or the pier and shore. To Arthur it seemed as if the latter had suddenly begun to run away from them, and was dancing up and down with joy because it had found the chance.

“Dick,” whispered Arthur, after beckoning his brother to his side, where he was holding on by the weather shrouds.

“Hullo!” cried Dick, laughing. “Oh, I say, Taff, isn’t it fun? I can’t walk.”

“I’m sure it isn’t safe,” whispered Arthur.

“Eh? What? Not safe?”

“No, I’m sure it isn’t. We shall be blown over.”

“Oh, never mind,” said Dick. “They’ll turn her round and blow her up again. I say, Taff; don’t be afraid. We sha’n’t hurt.”

“But if we were to be drowned, Dick, what would papa say?”

“Don’t know. He wouldn’t like it, though. But we sha’n’t be drowned. Look at Will. He’d know if there was any danger, and he’s as cool as can be. Come, pluck up. Let go of that rope. You’ll soon get used to it.”

Arthur turned a ghastly face to him.

“I’m trying to master being frightened, Dick,” he said humbly; “but I must go home again; I’m going to be sick.”

“Nonsense!” cried Dick, laughing. “There, think about something else. There, look, they’re going to use the net.”

To Arthur’s great delight the speed of the smack was checked, and the busy preparations took up his attention, so that the qualm passed off, and he crept to his brother’s side and listened as Josh was explaining the use of the trawl-net, which the men were about to lower over the side.

“There you are, you see,” said Josh; “here’s your net, just like a night-cap with a wide end and a little end, as we calls the bunt. There’s pockets to it as well, only you can’t very well see ’em now. When she’s hauled up with fish in you’ll see ’em better then.”

“And what’s this big piece of wood?”

“Trawl-beam,” said Josh; “thirty-footer, to keep the meshes of the net stretched wide open at the top. Bottom’s free so as to drag over the bottom. And them’s the trawl-irons, to fit on the end of the beam and skate along the sand and keep all down.”

“And the rope’s tied to them?” said Dick.

“Rope?” said Josh. “You mean the bridle. That’s right, my lad, and down she goes.”

Over went the huge, cumbersome apparatus of beam, irons, and net, the weighty irons being so arranged as to take the trawl to the bottom in the right position so that the net with its stout edge rope should scrape over the sand as the cutter sailed.

“There you are,” said the master, coming up; “now, then, away we go. There’s a fine wind this morning, and we shall get some fish.”

“Does the wind make you get the fish?” said Dick.

“To be sure, my lad. If we weren’t sailing fast, as soon as the flat-fish felt the net being dragged over ’em they’d give a flip and a flap and be out of the way in no time; but the trawl’s drawn over ’em so quickly in a brisk breeze like this that they haven’t time to escape. They’re in the net before they know where they are, and then they get into the pockets, and it’s a case of market for them.”

“It’s all sand under here, isn’t it?” asked Dick.

“You may be sure of that, my lad,” said the master laughing. “When you see a smack trawling, it’s all sand there, says you. ’Cause why? If it was rocks the trawl would catch and be broken before you knowed where you were. Yes; it’s all smooth bottom here.”

It was wonderfully interesting to see the great strong beam and the thick net, so different in the make to the filmy cobwebs that were used for seine and drift. This was of stout cord, and its edge of a strong over-bound rope. Of course all was out of sight now, the only thing visible being the bridle-rope, by means of which the trawl was being swiftly dragged astern.

“I hope we shall get a good haul or two,” said Will, joining the boys as they stood holding on by the bulwarks, with the great mainsail boom over their heads, everything that looked so small and toy-like from the shore being here big and strong.

“What shall we catch?” said Arthur, making an effort to hide the remains of his discomposure.

“Get, sir?” cried Will smiling. “Oh! all sorts of things. If we’re lucky, a turbot or two; soles we are sure to have, and some plaice; perhaps a brill; then there’ll be a few dabs and whiting, and maybe a red mullet, and along with them the trawl will bring up a lot of all sorts.”

“All sorts?” said Dick.

“Yes, sir. Weevers and blennies, and crabs, with oysters and scallops, and sea-weeds of all kinds—a regular mixture if we go over a part that hasn’t been much swept lately.”

“Here, I say, when are they going to pull up the net?” said Dick eagerly. “I want to see.”

“Oh! not yet awhile,” said Will smiling.

“But the fish will get out again.”

“Oh no! We’re going too fast for that,” said Will; “and if there are any fish they’ll be in the pockets.”

“But has a trawl-net got pockets?” said Arthur curiously.

“Oh yes!” said Dick grinning; “two in its trousers, two in its waistcoat, and one in its jacket.”

“Don’t you mind what he says, Master Arthur,” said Will smiling. “The pockets are on each side of the net, where it is sewed up a little, so that if the fish, when once in, try to swim towards the mouth they go instead into some of those sewed-up corners and get no farther. There, you see now, we’re going on the other tack so as to sweep back over nearly the same ground again. There are rocks if we go any farther this way.”

As he spoke the course of the smack was altered, and the side that had been so low down that at times it was almost possible to touch the water was high up and the other lower down, and the smack rushed through the water, as it seemed, faster than ever.

“She can sail, can’t she, young gentlemen?” said the master. “We call her the Foam, and she can make foam too. Well, are you ready for the haul?”

“Yes. Are you going to begin?” cried Dick excitedly.

“Soon, my lad, soon,” said the master. “Have you got a basket?”

Dick shook his head.

“Oh! you’ll want a basket, and you must have a bucket of water. There’ll be lots of things you’ll like to look at that we should pitch overboard again.”

“You lend me a basket and a bucket then,” said Dick; “you shall have them back.”

“Right, my lad. You tell young Will there to get you what you want. We shall have the trawl aboard soon.”

It seemed to Dick almost an age, but at last the master turned his brown, good-humoured face to him and gave him a nod. At the same moment he shouted a few short orders, and Dick rushed to take a pull at the rope as he saw Josh and Will stand by.

“No, no, my lad; you and your brother look on,” cried the master good-temperedly.

Dick drew back and glanced at Arthur, whose face was as eager as his own. In fact, a great deal of his London indifference had disappeared of late, and the boy had been growing as natural as his brother.

It was a time of intense excitement though for them, and as they watched they saw a windlass turn, and up came the great trawl-irons and the beam, then, dripping and sparkling in the sun, the foot-rope of the trawl-net, and foot after foot emerged with nothing but dripping water.

“Why, they haven’t caught a fish,” cried Dick in a disappointed tone of voice.

“You wait till the bunt’s aboard,” growled Josh just then; and the bunt, as the tassel end of the great net night-cap was called, was hauled on board dripping, and containing something splashing, flapping, and full of life.

“There’s something for you to look at, my lads,” cried the bluff master smiling. “Let out that draw string, Josh.”

The whole of the net was now on the deck, the water streaming from it out at the side; and after Josh had unfastened the string which laced up the small end or bunt, the little crew took hold of the net above the pockets, and by giving it a series of shakes sent the whole of its contents out upon the deck. The net was then drawn away, the bunt fastened up, the end thrown over, and the trawl-beam took all down to scrape once more over the sands and scoop-out the soles and other flat-fish that are so fond of scuffling themselves down in the soft oozy sand, flapping their side-fins about till they are half covered, and very often letting the trawl-rope pass right over their backs.

A good many had, however, failed to be successful this time, for there was a great patch of the deck covered with the contents of the net.

“I never saw such a sight in my life,” cried Dick; and then he burst into a roar of laughter as his brother tried to pick up a large sole, which seemed to give a spring and a flap, and darted out of his hands.

It was a sight, certainly; and the master good-humouredly let the men stand aside for a while so that the boys might have a good inspection of the haul before clearance was made.

“Overboard with the rubbish, my lads,” he said, “then you can see better.”

But the rubbish, a great deal of it, was what Dick and his brother would have liked to keep, as much of it consisted of pieces of heavy black wood pierced by teredo and covered with barnacles. There were curious stones, too, and pieces of weed, all of which had to go overboard though, and then, as Dick called it, the fun began.

It was a good haul. And first and foremost there was a magnificent turbot—a huge round fellow, with his white waistcoat, and mouth awry, apparently, though it was normally placed, and the creature’s eyes, like those of the rest of the flat-fish, were screwed round to one side of its head.

Then there was a brill, like the turbot’s small first cousin, and a young turbot that might have been its son. There were a dozen or so of plaice, large and small, and, flipping and flapping and gasping, some five-and-twenty soles, from fine fat fellows fifteen inches long to little tiny slips that were thrown overboard.

“Some sends that sort to market,” said the master smiling. “I throw ’em in again to get fat.”

Arthur’s adventures with the conger came back to him as he saw one long lithe fish of some four feet eagerly seized and thrust into one of the many stout boxes on the deck; and he said something to his brother.

“No,” said Will, who overheard him. “That’s a hake.”

There were several whitings, many being of very large size, four times that of the familiar tail-biting gentlemen who are curled up among the parsley upon our tables. No less than a dozen ruddy mullet were there too; and the above-named being the good fish of the haul, the residue was left on deck for the boys to examine and save what they pleased.

Will picked out a small brill and a whiting or two, with a good-sized sole that had been left. These were placed in the basket, and then the basket was dipped full of clean water, and the treasures, as Dick called them, were fished out and dropped in.

Among these were a lovely jelly-fish and a couple of beroes, looking like little oblong balls of the purest crystal; some pieces of stone, with curious barnacles adhering; and a quaint-looking, large-headed fish with prickly weapons about its head and back.

Then Arthur added a baby sole, and Dick an infant turbot, which were entangled amongst the sea-weed that had been dredged up; while everywhere the patch of dredgings upon the deck seemed to be alive with creeping and crawling things, examples of the teeming life of the great ocean.

Then came the master to intimate that the deck must be cleared, for they were going to haul the dredge on board again.

“What—so soon?” cried Dick.

“So soon—eh?” said the master. “Why, you’ve been stirring that up ’bout half an hour.”

“Ah! well, we shall have something more to see,” said Dick in a reconciled manner; and he carried his basket astern, while the men swept the remains of the haul—such remains as would have given a naturalist a week’s amusement—overboard.

Then once more the ponderous trawl was hauled on board, with its flapping and splashing prisoners, which were nearly as abundant as before; but there was no turbot this time.

“Don’t matter,” said Dick; “here’s the sauce.”

As he spoke he pointed laughingly to a great lobster which had been out on its travels away from its home amongst the rocks, and had been swept up, to be turned out upon the smack’s deck, to crawl about flapping its tail and opening and closing its pincers, held aloft in the most aggressive way.

“Ah!” said the master thoughtfully, “that won’t do. We must have gone a little too near the tail of the rocks when we tacked.”

“I thought you was going pretty close,” said Josh, “but I said as you know’d best.”

The boxes were dragged forward again, and soles and plaice were thrust in, flapping and springing in their captors’ hands. Then the whiting were sorted into their home, the sundry fish that were worth saving placed in another box, and once more the visitors were allowed to have their turn in the heap, till, amidst such an embarrassment of riches, as the French call it, Dick stopped short with a laughing, puzzled face, to rub his ear.

“There’s such a lot,” he cried. “There’s so much to see, I don’t know what to take first, and what to leave.”

It resulted in nearly everything going overboard,—tiny fish entangled in sea-weed, curious stones, dog-fish, and skates’ eggs, barnacles, pieces of hard English sponge, bones of cuttle-fish, and scallop and oyster-shells; but one basket was set aside for Mr Temple by Will, who stored in it a fair number of delicious oysters and scallops, whose beautiful shells were bearded with lovely weeds like ferns or plumes of asparagus, while one that gaped open showed his flesh to be of the most brilliant orange scarlet hue.

And so it went on hour after hour, the fresh breeze making the trawling most successful, and at every haul there were so many treasures that at last Dick gave up collecting in despair, confiding his opinion to his brother that the happiest life anybody could lead must be that of the master of a trawler.

Towards four o’clock they were sent ashore with Josh and Will, loaded with bucket and basket of the treasures they had found, including a handsome lot of fish for Mr Temple, with the master’s compliments.

“Why, Taff,” said Dick suddenly, “you were going to be sea-sick, weren’t you, when we started off?”

“Yes,” said Arthur uneasily, and then smiling, he added, “I forgot all about it.”

“Forgot all about it!” said Dick. “I should think so. Why, it wouldn’t matter how bad a fellow were: a day’s trawling would make him well.”

Chapter Thirty.

Taff objects to Early Rising and being treated as a Seal.

It wanted a perfectly calm day for the visit to the seal-cave, and this was long in coming. There were plenty of fine days when the sun shone brightly and the sea was as clear as crystal; but there was generally a pleasant breeze, and the pleasant breeze that only seemed to ripple the water was sufficient twice over to raise good-sized waves amongst the rocks, and to send a rush of broken water enough to upset a boat, foaming and dashing in at the mouth of the cave.

Failing the success of this enterprise, Mr Temple, who was with them, made Will and Josh row on to the rift in the cliff where the vein of white spar had been found by Will; and leaving all in the boat, Dick’s father went up by himself and stayed for long enough, while his sons were rowed to and fro fishing with more or less success.

One morning, though, as Dick was dreaming of being in the green-house at home when the hail was pattering down, there seemed to come three or four such sharp cracks that he awoke and jumped out of bed. The next moment he was at the window pulling up the blind and looking out, to see Will on the rugged pathway waiting for him to open the window.

“Seal-cave to-day,” he said. “Look out to sea.”

Dick looked out to sea, where there was a dense mist that seemed to wrap everything in its folds. The luggers appeared dim—those that were near shore—while others were completely hidden. Overhead the sky was clear, and the sun was shining brightly, while where its light fell upon the mist it became rosily transparent, and the masts of some of the luggers looked double their usual size.

“Seals, Taff, seals!” cried Dick, shaking his brother’s shoulder, with the effect of making him hurriedly scramble out of bed, yawning terribly, and gazing in an ill-used way at his brother, as he sat down and began to rub his feet one over the other.

“Don’t sit down, Taff; dress yourself. I’m going to call father.”

“Shut that window first,” cried Arthur; “it’s so horribly cold.”

“Cold! Ha! ha! Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Dick. “What a chap you are, Taff! Here, Will, he says it’s cold. Go to the pump for a pail of cold water to warm him.”

“He had better not,” cried Arthur, hurriedly scuffling into his trousers. “If he did I would never forgive him.”

“I’m not going to get any water, Master Arthur,” cried Will; “but make haste down, it’s such a glorious morning!”

“’Tisn’t,” said Arthur, whose eyes were swelled up with sleepiness. “It’s all misty and thick, and the window-sill’s wet, and the roses outside look drenched. Heigh, ho, ha, hum!” he yawned. “I shall go to bed for half an hour longer—till the sun comes out.”

“No, you sha’n’t,” cried Dick, seizing the pillow for a weapon of offence. “If you do, I’ll bang you out of bed again.”

“If you dare to touch me,” cried Arthur furiously, “I shall complain to papa.”

“And he’ll laugh at you,” said Dick; “and serve you right.”

Arthur snatched off his lower garment with the obstinacy of a half-asleep individual, and scrambled into bed again, dragging the clothes up over his chest, and scowling defiantly at his brother, as if saying, “Touch me if you dare.”

“There’s a stupid, obstinate, lazy old pig,” cried Dick, throwing the pillow at him and standing rubbing one ear. “Here—hi, Will!” he said, going to the window, “come round and upstairs. Here’s a seal in his cave asleep. Come and let’s tug him out.”

“He had better not dare to come into my bed-room,” cried Arthur, punching the pillow thrown at him viciously, and settling down in his place; not that he wanted more rest, but out of dislike to being disturbed, and from a fit of morning ill-temperedness getting the upper hand.

Just then Dick was leaning out of the window half-dressed, and with his braces hanging down as if they were straps to haul him back in case he leaned too far.

Arthur glanced at his brother for a moment and then shouted:

“Here, Dick, shut that window!”

Dick evidently did not hear him, and a low giggling laugh reached his ears.

“They had better not try to play any tricks with me,” said Arthur to himself, as he lay frowning and feeling very much dissatisfied, as he thought, with Dick, but really with himself.

Then he heard more laughing, the sound of steps in the garden, and something thump against the wall of the house.

There was no mistake now about Arthur’s wakefulness, as he lay with the clothes drawn right above his nose; one eye glanced at the window, and he breathed quickly with indignation as Dick drew a little on one side to make room for Will, who had obtained the short ladder used by his uncle to nail up his creepers, and placed it against the wall, and he was now on the top with his jersey-covered arms resting on the window-sill, and his sun-browned face above them looking in.

“Good-morning, sir!” he said merrily. “Want anybody to help you dress?”

“How dare you!” cried Arthur indignantly. “Go away, and shut that window directly. It’s disgraceful. We had no business to come to such a place as this,” he continued, forgetting all his good resolves, and giving rein to his anger.

“Why, hullo! what’s all this?” said Mr Temple, entering the room, dressed for going out.

“I’m glad you’ve come, papa,” cried Arthur, whose face was scarlet with anger. “These boys have—”

“Oh, I say, Taff, don’t be disagreeable,” cried Dick. “It was all my doing, father. Taff wouldn’t get up, and Will here had come to call us, and I told him to get up the ladder and look in, pretending that there was a seal in a cave, and Taff turned cross about it.”

“Get up directly, Arthur,” said Mr Temple quietly, “and make haste down. How would to-day do to visit the seal-cave?” continued Mr Temple, turning to Will.

“I came to tell the young gentlemen it was just the morning, sir,” said Will, who was feeling very uncomfortable. “It is as still as can be, and the tide will suit. I should go, sir, directly after breakfast.”

“And so we will,” said Mr Temple. “There, finish dressing, Dick,” he said, as Will slid down the ladder and took it away. “I thought there was to be no more of this petty anger, Arthur. You are old enough to know better, and yet you behave like a fractious child. Don’t tease him, Dick; he can’t bear it, I suppose.”

Mr Temple left the room, and Dick went on hurriedly dressing, while Arthur, flushed and uncomfortable, sat in his trousers on the edge of the bed, his hair touzled and the pillow creases marked like a map on his right cheek.

“Here, I say, get dressed, Taff,” cried Dick, “and let’s go down and collect some sea-anemones before breakfast.”

“I don’t want to dress,” said Arthur. “I’m always wrong. I’m a miserable wretch, and nobody understands me. I sha’n’t go to the seal-cave to-day.”

“Yes, you will,” cried Dick, who was very sympathetic but very busy, for he had suddenly awakened to the fact that he had put too much pomatum on his hair. The result was that it looked shiny and greasy, and there was nothing for it but to give it a good rub over with the sponge and then towel it, which he was doing by holding the cloth over his head, and sawing it vigorously to and fro.

“No, I shall not go,” said Arthur despondently. “I shall stop at home.”

“So shall I then,” said Dick panting, and out of breath from his exertions. “It’s all right, Taff, I tell you. Get dressed. You’ll feel as different as can be when you’ve had your breakfast. That’s what’s the matter with you. It makes you feel cross sometimes when you are so precious hungry.”

Arthur sat unmoved, making no effort to dress, and Dick, who was nearly complete, wanting only his jacket, turned to him once more.

“Come on, Taff,” he cried. “Get dressed, and let’s find some anemones, and put in a tub of salt-water. We can feed ’em on shrimps.”

“I wish we were back in london,” said Arthur bitterly.

“What! to have the fellows shouting ‘sweep!’ and the girls beating the mats and knocking their brooms against the area railings as you’re dressing. No, thank you. I like being here. Oh, I say, how lovely old Mr Marion’s flowers smell! Here’s a lugger! Hi, Will, what boat’s that?”

“The Grey Gull, Thomson’s boat,” came up from the garden. “Been out all night for pilchards. I’ll go down and get some for bait.”

“I never saw a pilchard,” said Arthur, suddenly beginning to dress.

“Look sharp, then, and we’ll go down and have a look. Here, I shall go now. You can come on.”

“That’s always the way,” said Arthur bitterly. “You never will wait for me.”

“I will now, then,” cried Dick. “Look sharp;” and he went and leaned his elbows on the window, to gaze out at the lovely opalescent mist through which, looking huge in proportion, a brown-sailed lugger came creeping over the steely sea, which shone and glanced wherever the sun passed through the heavy mist. The men on the lugger looked huge, and it was evident from the shouts from the pier and the responses that there was some little excitement going on about the new arrival, but what it was Dick was too distant to hear.

“Oh, do make haste, Taff!” he cried, glancing back to see with satisfaction that his brother was now making good speed; “there’s no end of fun going on. I’ve never seen a pilchard yet. There’s Will Marion down there, and—oh, I say, what a shame to go down without us! There goes father!”

Arthur’s toilet proceeded by big strides now, and it was not long before, looking a good deal more amiable, he declared himself ready, and was in fact so ready that he raced with his brother down to the cliff—rather a breakneck proceeding, considering the steepness of the way; but they got down to the harbour in safety, and to Dick’s delight he found that the lugger was not yet in, the progress by means of her sweeps having been very slow, and now for the first time he noticed that she was extremely deep in the water.

“A be glad you’ve come, Master Diehard,” said a voice behind them; and there stood Josh. “Grey Gull’s coming in with ’bout the gashliest take o’ pilchards as never was. Say they could have filled the lugger twice over.”

The little pier was pretty well crowded, and the men were in an unwonted state of excitement, but place was made for the boys, and they were soon after standing gazing down into the hold of the lugger, which seemed to be filled with silver whose dust had been scattered all over deck, bulwarks, combings, buoys, ropes, nets, for everything was specked and spangled with silvery scales.

“Here, boys,” said Mr Temple, “this is a fresh sight for you. What do you think of these?”

Mr Temple was standing beside Will, who had been on board the lugger and returned with a little basket containing a dozen or two of the little oily fish, which looked like small large-scaled herrings, but richer and fatter and of tenderer skin.

“Wonderful bait,” said Will. “We can catch no end to-night with these.”

They waited to see the business begin—the said business being the rapid unloading of the pilchards, which were borne along the pier to one of the long low pilchard-houses to be regularly stacked somewhat after the fashion of drying bricks, and salted ready for packing in barrels and sending to the Mediterranean ports.

But after the first inspection the sight of baskets full of silvery pilchard began to grow monotonous, and Dick exclaimed:

“I say, father, it must be breakfast time now.”

Breakfast time it was, and after arranging to be back at the pier in an hour, they sought the old purser’s cottage, from whose open window the extremely fragrant odour of broiled ham was floating out, ready to act like a magnet upon the sensations of a couple of hungry lads.

Chapter Thirty One.

A Trip to the Seal’s Zorn, and a Chip at Metals.

The boat was ready when they returned to the little pier, and the unloading in full swing. Every now and then scraps of damaged fish were thrown overboard to wash about the harbour, but which Josh intimated would have some effect by and by.

“Just you wait till the tide comes and washes them bits o’ pilchar’ all away about the place. You’ll have the fish coming up from sea after ’em, and the whole place ’most alive—eh, Will?”

“Yes,” said the latter, who was rowing steadily away. “Some good fishing might be had to-night if the young gentlemen liked to try.”

It was decided that if they were not too tired they would try for a few fish after tea.

“Wouldn’t the young gents like to go drifting—means all night?” said Josh; “but while the nets is out there’s some haking to be done.”

“I don’t know about that, boys,” said Mr Temple; “but I think a good daylight sail with the trawler would be enjoyable. I should like it myself.”

“Then jus’ you go an’ speak to Tom Purnowen, Will, lad,” said Josh; “he’ll be glad enough to take the gentlemen and pick you out a good day.”

They were bound for the seal-cave, but all the same, in spite of the coming excitement, Dick had not forgotten a fishing-line, while Will had ready for him, in a finely-woven basket, a couple of score of silvery sand-eels, which were kept alive by the basket being dragged astern in the sea.

These bright little fellows proved to be a most attractive bait, mackerel, pollack, and bass being taken, only one of the latter, however, which fell to Arthur’s share, it being his turn to hold the line; but he did not care to let Will unhook it, and with the usual luck that followed his obstinacy he managed to get a sharp prick from one of the spikes.

Eight or nine fair-sized fish had been placed in the basket before Josh suggested that it would be better to leave off fishing, as the boat was now about to be taken close inshore, and the hooks would be fouled in the floating and anchored weed.

Mr Temple had indicated that he would like to examine the rocks here and there, and hence it was that the boat was taken so far in, where the rowing was more arduous, and the risks greater of being overturned upon some rock that was one minute submerged, the next level with the water.

Josh was too clever a boatman, though, for any such accident to occur, and he ran the little craft here and there most cleverly among the rocks; and, clearing the broken water, backing in for Mr Temple and Dick to land, and rowing out again till they were ready to leap on board once more.

For though, to use Josh’s expression, the sea was “like ile” fifty yards out, it was fretting and working incessantly amongst the rocks, and running up rifts and chasms to come back in foam.

One landing of this kind seemed to excite a desire for more, and, hammer in hand, Mr Temple was as busy as could be breaking “the gashly rocks,” as Josh expressed it in rather a pitying tone of voice to Will. So search after search was made, Dick scrambling up the most difficult places he could see, and seeming to find the most intense enjoyment in perching upon some narrow ledge, with his feet dangling over the side, though what the pleasure was he would have found it hard to say.

“There,” said Mr Temple at last, as he and Dick leaped on board once more, “go on, or we shall see no seals to-day. It is not fair to you boys.”

“Oh! I like scrambling about the rocks, father,” cried Dick; “it’s poor Taff who misses the fun.”

“I can enjoy seeing you climb,” said Arthur sedately.

“Yes,” said his father shortly, “I have no doubt it is pleasant to look on; but is it not rather too ladylike a pursuit for a boy like you?”

Arthur coloured highly, and glanced forward to see if the rowers had heard; but he was relieved, for it was evident that they were too much occupied in circumventing the submerged rocks to pay any heed to the conversation, and the lad heaved a sigh full of content.

A couple of hours’ hard rowing brought them to the mouth of the seal-cave, which, as they approached, looked far larger than it had seemed before when the sea was higher, for it generally nearly covered it, and at certain times completely closed it in.

“So now we are to see some seals?” said Dick excitedly.

“I don’t know,” said Will quietly. “This is the cave they are in sometimes; but one don’t know whether there are any here.”

“I think I see a little one drop off the rock as we come in sight,” said Josh quietly. “Might have been a shag; but there was something on yonder rock; we shall see.”

“It looks a rum place,” said Dick. “Why, the water goes right in. We shall have to wait till it’s dry.”

“Then we shall never go in, sir,” said Will smiling. “It is never dry, and the water is deep.”

“What are we going to do, then?” said Dick.

“Row in—I mean push the boat in. The entrance is wide enough for that.”

“What! Are we going to pass right in there?” said Arthur rather excitedly.

“I suppose so,” said his father quietly. “Are you afraid?”

“No, I’m not afraid,” said Arthur quickly, but colouring a little the while; “only—only it seems so queer—such an awkward place to go in.”

“Yes, it will be awkward,” said Mr Temple dryly.

“There’s lots of room, sir,” said Josh. “No fear o’ knocking your head. You see, there wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of round our coast if there were no rocks.”

“I say, Josh, where shall we find the seals?” said Dick as they slowly approached the low arch in the face of the cliff, the boat being backed in so that its rowers could pull strongly away should a dangerous wave come in and threaten to dash them against the rocks—a mishap that occurred sometimes on the calmest days.

“Oh! if there be any, Master Dick, sir, they’ll keep going farther and farther away, right into the end of the cave, where it be so small you can’t follow unless you wade.”

“Will seals bite, Josh?” cried Dick.

“Well, sir, they say they will, and fine and sharp, and fight too; but I never see ’em do it. Only thing I ever see a seal do was try to get away as fast as she could; that’s all I ever see.”

“But have you ever seen seals in here?” said Arthur, who, in spite of himself, looked rather white.

“Six or seven times, sir,” replied Josh. “I’ve been with gentlemen as come shooting seals, and with a couple of gentlemen who went right in with clubs to kill ’em.”

“And did they shoot and kill any?” said Dick eagerly.

“No, sir; not as I see,” replied Josh. “One of ’em shot at a seal out on a rock, but I don’t think he hit her, for she only looked up at us like a human being and then dived into the water and—but, look!”

Josh, who was about thirty yards from the entrance, ceased rowing; and as Dick and his father followed the direction of his eyes, and Will’s pointing hand, they saw a curious, grey-looking creature rise up out of the water and begin to scramble up on to one of the rocks by the cave entrance, but on seeing the boat it gave a wallow, something like a fish, and turning, dived off the rock with a dull plash into the deep water.

“She’s gone in,” said Josh, propelling the boat towards the rugged arch. “We’ve seen one. P’r’aps we shall see more seals to-day.”

“But won’t it be dark?”

“Will’s brought the big lantern, sir,” said Josh.

“And I,” said Mr Temple, “have brought some magnesium wire.”

A good-sized wave came in just then, carrying the boat forward upon its swell right up to the archway; and then, as the wave retired, Josh managed to give a touch here and a touch there with his oars, and the next minute the sunshine seemed to have gone, and they glided in beneath a fringe of ferns and into a dark grotto, where the trickling drip of falling water came musically upon the ears.

It was a wonderful change—from the brilliant light outside, to the soft, greenish obscurity of the cave, whose floor was of pellucid water, that looked black beneath the boat, and softly green where some rock came near the surface.

It was of no great size as to width, resembling more a rugged passage or subterranean canal made by nature, regardless of direction or size, than a cavern; but to the boys it was a weird, strange place, full of awe and mystery. Every time oar or boat-hook touched the rocky side, there was a strange, echoing noise. Now and then the keel of the boat grated on some unseen rock, or was lifted by the water and dropped softly, as it were, upon some portion of the stony bottom as the water rose and fell.

The opening was left behind, and it seemed horrible to Arthur that calm coolness with which his father sat still and allowed Josh to thrust the boat along farther and farther till it became too dark for them to see, and Josh laid his boat-hook down. As he did so there was a silence for a few moments, in the midst of which, heard beneath the dripping musical tones of the falling water, came a curious hissing, whispering sound from beyond them farther in the cave.

“What’s that?” said Arthur in a low voice as he spasmodically caught at his brother’s arm.

Truth to tell, the mystery of the place had impressed Dick, who suffered from a half self-confessed desire to get out into the daylight once more; but now came this evident display of dread on his brother’s part, and its effect was to string him up at once.

Laughing at Arthur meant laughing at himself, and he snatched at the opportunity as Arthur whispered once more, “Dick—Dick—what’s that?”

“That?” said Dick in the same low tone. “That’s the bogle-booby breathing. He’s asleep now, but when he wakes he’ll roll about so that he’ll fill the place with foam.”

“Don’t you take any notice of him, Master Arthur,” said Will gently. “He’s making fun of you. That whispering noise is made by the water as it runs gurgling up the cracks of the rock and comes back again.”

“Cr–r–r–ack!”

Arthur uttered a shrill cry, and Dick burst out laughing.

“Why, it was only a noisy match, Taff,” he exclaimed, as, after a loud cracking scratch, there was a flash of light, and then a clear glow was shed around by the lantern, whose lamp Josh had just lit, its rays showing dimly the rugged walls of granite, all wet with trickling water, while the shadows of the boat and its occupants were cast here and there.

“Now, Master Dick, if you’ll take the lantern and hold it up I’ll send the boat farther in, so as if there be any seals you’ll have a chance of seeing ’em.”

“You think there are some then?” said Mr Temple.

“Ay, I do, sir. They won’t have got out either. The only way, you see, would be under the boat, and they won’t try that way yet so long as there’s plenty of room forward.”

Dick took the lantern, and as the light spread about the boat and glimmered on the surface of wet rock and water Arthur made a brave effort to master his dread; but all the same he gazed doubtfully forward as the boat was thrust more and more along the waterway among the rocks.

“I don’t hear any seals yet,” said Mr Temple.

“Oh, you won’t hear ’em p’r’aps, sir,” said Josh, “till we are close on to them, and then there’ll be a splash and a rush. If there be any of ’em they’re huddled up together, wondering what this here lantern means.”

“Then there is no other way out?”

“Not for them, sir. There’s a bit of a hole up towards the end, where a bird might fly out, but there’s no way for the fish.”

All this time Josh and Will were propelling the boat along with an oar or a boat-hook, and when the way was very narrow and the rocks within reach thrusting it forward with their hands.

“There, there, there’s one,” cried Dick, as there was a heavy rushing noise which came whispering and echoing past where they were.

“Ay, that be one, Master Richard,” cried Josh, mastering the boy’s name for once. “She’ll go right to the end and come up again.”

“How far is it to the end?” said Mr Temple.

“Six or eight fathom,” said Josh; “not more, sir. If the light was stronger you could see it.”

“Then we’ll have a stronger light,” said Mr Temple. “Open that lantern, Dick.”

The boy obeyed, and his father ignited the end of a piece of magnesium wire, which burst out into a brilliant white light, showing them the roof and sides of the narrow cave, flashing off the water, and, what was of greater interest still, displaying the heads of a couple of seals raised above the surface at the end of the channel, and the dark-grey shiny body of another that had crawled right into a rift but could get no farther, and was now staring timidly at them.

The light sputtered and glowed, and dense white fumes floated in a cloud above their heads, while the boat was urged softly closer and closer towards the seals, the effect being that as the animals saw the light and the curious objects beneath advancing towards them the two in the water swam to the end and began to crawl out upon the rock, forcing themselves towards their companion in the rift.

“Go right on, sir?” said Will in a low voice.

“Yes. Close on, my lad,” said Mr Temple. “Have a good look at them, boys, before they go.”

“You’re not going to catch one, are you, father?”

“Oh no! We’ll have a good look at them. Wild creatures are getting far too scarce about the coast as it is.”

He kept manipulating the wire as he spoke, sparks and incandescent pieces falling the while with a loud hiss in the water, making Arthur start till he was prepared for what was to come. And as Mr Temple managed the light and stood up in the boat its pale dazzling rays made the cave as light as day; and at last they were within three or four yards of the seals, which suddenly, after gliding and shuffling one over the other in utter astonishment, made Arthur and Dick start back, falling over into the bottom of the boat.

For, evidently frantic with dread, and helpless as far as relief was concerned, the three seals, as if moved by one idea, gave a wallowing movement, and dashed from the rocks together, seeming for the moment as if they were bent on leaping into the boat, but of course falling short and plunging into the water with a tremendous splash, which sent the spray all over those who were nearest; and at the same moment there was a hiss, and they were in total darkness.

“I won’t be afraid,” said Arthur to himself; and he clenched his teeth as his father said loudly:

“Rather startling. I did not expect that. Dropped my magnesium ribbon. Why, where’s the lantern?”

“It’s underneath me, father,” said Dick in a half-ashamed grumbling tone. “I tumbled back over it and knocked it out.”

“Never mind, Master Dick, I’ve got some matches,” said Will; and after a good deal of scratching, which only resulted in long lines of pale light, for every part of the boat seemed to be wet, there was a glow of light once more, and the lantern was lit; but its rays seemed pitiful in the extreme after the brilliant glare of the magnesium.

“And now where are the seals?” said Mr Temple, holding the lantern above his head.

“Out to sea long enough ago, sir,” said Josh. “They went under the boat, and I felt one of ’em touch the oar as they went off. You won’t see no more seals, sir, to-day.”

“Ah well!” said Mr Temple, “we’ve seen some, boys, at all events. Now let’s have a look round here.”

He held up the lantern, and as the boat was thrust onward he examined the rock here and there, taking out his little steel-headed hammer and chipping about.

“Granite—quartz—gneiss—quartz,” he said in a low voice, as he carefully examined each fresh fracture in the stone. “Why, boys, here’s tin here,” he said sharply. “This place can never have been worked.”

As he was speaking these latter words he held out a fragment of the stone he had broken off to Josh.

“That’s good tin, my man,” he said.

Josh growled. He had more faith in a net or a bit of rope.

“What do you say to it, Will?” said Mr Temple.

Will took the piece of quartz that was sparkling with tiny black crystals and turned it over several times close to the light. “Good tin ore, and well worth working,” he exclaimed readily.

“Yes,” said Mr Temple, “you are right, my lad. It is well worth working. Let’s look a little farther. Here, you come and stand up and hold the lantern. We can land here.”

Will obeyed, and as the boys watched, and Josh solaced himself with cutting a bit of cake tobacco to shreds, Mr Temple and Will climbed from place to place, the boys seeing the dark wet pieces of rock come out clear and sparkling as the blows fell from the hammer.

Now they were here, now there, and the more Mr Temple hammered and chipped the more interested he seemed to grow.

Click, click, click, click rang the hammer, and splish, splash went the fragments of rock that fell in the water or were thrown into it; and thus for quite two hours Mr Temple hammered away, and after giving up a fragmentary conversation Dick and Josh grew silent or only spoke at intervals.

Chapter Thirty Two.

How Seals sometimes make those who wax eager stick.

“I say, Dick,” said Arthur after a long silence, “I wish we could go out now.”

“Not frightened, are you?”

“Not now,” said Arthur with simple truthfulness. “I was at first, but I don’t mind now.”

“It was unked, as the people here call it,” said Dick, “and gashly. I wondered at first whether there were any sea-serpents or ugly things living in a place like this.”

“Sea-monsters,” said Arthur. “So did I, but I seem to have got used to it at last.”

“Oh, I say,” said Dick, “I’m getting so hungry! What a long time father is!”

“He’s finding good ore,” said Arthur, “he seems to be so interested. Dick—Dick—oh! what’s that?”

Snork!

It was not the snarl of a wild beast, but a sound that seemed to be represented by that word.

“Old Josh’s fast asleep,” said Dick merrily. “It’s he snoring. Let’s splash him. No; I’ll rock the boat.”

Suiting the action to the word, Dick gave the boat a rock whose result was to bump it hardly against a rock, and then there was a loud start out of the darkness a few feet away, and then the boat bumped again.

“Why, halloa! what cheer—eh? What?”

“Why, you’ve been to sleep, Josh.”

“No; on’y just closed my eyes,” cried Josh; “on’y just shut ’em a moment;” though the fact was Josh had been asleep a long way over an hour. “Master ’most done?”

“I don’t know,” said Dick; “I know I’m precious tired of waiting.”

“Tell ’ee what,” said Josh suddenly, as he began to feel about with an oar as the boat swayed more up and down, and was carried a little towards where Mr Temple was standing, and then drawn back; “tide’s coming in fast.”

“Why, Will,” said Mr Temple just at the same moment, “how’s this? That ledge was bare—”

“Now it’s six inches under water, sir,” replied Will. “I think we ought to get out at once.”

“Stop a few minutes longer,” said Mr Temple; “there is evidently the outcrop of a vein here. Hold the light.”

Will obeyed at once, and Mr Temple began chipping at a fresh block of quartz rock which projected from the cave wall at an angle.

“Yes; copper this time,” said Mr Temple.

“Father,” cried Dick, “Josh thinks we had better get out again now. The tide’s rising.”

“I’ll be done directly,” said Mr Temple. “The tide will not run so high that we cannot pull against it.”

“Tide’s coming in gashly fast,” said Josh to himself; “but if he don’t mind, I don’t.”

Twice more Dick spoke to his father about coming, for Josh was muttering very sourly, and seemed disposed to resent this hanging back when he suggested that it would be better to go; but Mr Temple was so deeply interested in his discovery of what seemed to be a promising and, as far as he could for the moment tell, absolutely a new vein, that he forgot everything else in his intense desire to break off as good a specimen of the rock as he could.

“There,” he said at last in a tone of triumph, “I think that will do. Steady, Dick, take these pieces. Now, you, my lad, go forward to your place. We’ll hold the lanthorn, and—why, how’s this? the ceiling seems to be lower.”

“But it aren’t,” growled Josh sourly; “it’s the gashly tide come in. There,” he said, as he thrust the boat round an angle which had hidden the entrance of the cavern, “the boat won’t go through there.”

“Through there?” cried Mr Temple, as Dick felt his heart sink at the sight of the little archway in the rock not a foot above the surface of the water and sometimes with that surface going closer still towards the rugged crown of the natural arch.

“Well, there aren’t no other way,” said Josh, whose long sleep had been the cause of the mishap, for had he been awake he would have known that they were staying longer than was safe.

“But,” cried Mr Temple, who felt alarmed now on account of his boys and their companions, “what are we to do? We must leave the boat and wade out.”

“Wade!” growled Josh. “Why, there’s three fathom o’ water under where we sit.”

“Then we must swim through,” cried Mr Temple excitedly. “There is no time to spare. Man, man, why did you not warn us of the danger?”

“Why—why?” growled Josh. “I didn’t know. I never see the tide come up that gashly way afore.”

“It was while you were asleep, Josh,” said Dick in a whisper; and Josh turned upon him as if he had been stung.

“Now,” cried Mr Temple, as he pointed to the low opening through which was the sunshiny sea and safety, while on their side was apparently darkness and death; “now, Dick, you can swim through there; but first try whether by lying down we can force the boat under.”

“Oh, I’ll try!” said Josh; “but it’s of no use, not a bit of use. Be it, Will?”

“No,” said the latter decidedly, as he and Josh urged the boat right up to the entrance, and Mr Temple saw at once that it would be an impossibility.

“Then we must swim,” said Mr Temple. “You can swim that, Dick?”

“Yes, father,” said Dick. “Clothes and all.”

“Yes, of course, the distance is so short.”

“And you, Arthur, you can swim through there?”

The boy could not speak, for he was battling down the horrible feeling of dread that came over him.

“I say, you can swim that, Arthur?” said Mr Temple sternly.

“Yes, father. I’ll try,” said the boy quickly.

“That’s well. Of course you two can swim?”

“Tidy, sir, tidy,” said Josh; “and Will here, he could ’most beat a seal. But there ain’t no call to get wetting of ourselves. I’ll shove the boat back to where it’s highest and where the water never reaches. We can wait there till she goes down again.”

“Do you know what you are talking about, man?” cried Mr Temple sternly. “We should be suffocated.”

“Josh means put the boat, sir, under the opening in the rock that he spoke about,” said Will. “There’ll be plenty of air. You can stand up on the rocks, sir, and hear it rush out with a regular roar when the water drives in, and when it goes out again the air sucks in so fast that it will take a piece of paper with it, and sometimes blows it out again.”

“There is no time to be lost then if you are sure of this,” said Mr Temple anxiously; “but are you sure?”

“Yes, sir, quite sure,” cried Will.

“Oh! you may trust Will, sir, that’s right enough all as he says. Tide never comes up anything like so high as we shall be.”

Mr Temple hesitated, and as he paused, wondering which would be the wisest plan to pursue, there was a wave ready to rise up and completely blot out the faint daylight which streamed through the narrow opening.

This was only for a few moments, and then the daylight streamed in again, but only to be eclipsed by what seemed to be a soft green mass of crystal, that gradually darkened more and more.

Then came sunshine and blue sky again, but a smaller arch than ever, and had the little party not been filled with alarm, nothing could have been more beautiful than the succession of effects.

But in a state of intense excitement Mr Temple was urging Josh and Will to force the boat back to where they would be in safety, if safety it could be called.

Dick was quite as excited as his father, and eagerly seized an oar to help force the boat back, while Arthur, perhaps the most alarmed of the three, sat perfectly still, for, poor boy, he had been fighting for weeks now to master his cowardice, and, as he called it, to make himself more like his brother.

As the boat floated back more and more along the irregular channel they could see the archway entrance open and close—open and close. Now it seemed as if it would not close again, for the water went suddenly lower, and Mr Temple exclaimed:

“Look! the tide is at its height.”

“Not it,” said Josh. “She’s got another two hours to run, I know. But don’t you mind, sir, we shall be all right.”

Perhaps Josh felt quite confident, but no one else did, as the water rose and fell, giving lovely little views of sea and sky, and then turned into veils of crystal, green and blue, sparkling sometimes like emerald, then changing to amethystine or sapphire hue.

It was surprising what an amount of light seemed to come in when the water sank, and then by contrast the darkness was horrible, and the lanthorn seemed to emit a dismal yellow glow.

They might have stayed for another quarter of an hour watching the light come and go, but there was the danger of their being inclosed in some portion of the cavern where the roof was low, and the boat would be made a prisoner within a prison. So Josh urged the boat forward towards where Mr Temple had been so busy with his researches, and after a little examination he bade Will cover the lanthorn with his jacket.

“It’s a long time since I were in here,” he said; “but I think as the air-hole ought to be somewhere about here. One moment, Will, lad; hold the light up and lets see the roof.”

The rocky summit was in the highest part, some twelve feet above their heads, and satisfied as to this, Josh had the light darkened, and then began to look upward.

“No,” he said. “Must be the next. Show the light.”

He thrust the boat along once more, grinding and bumping over fragments of rock, till they had passed under another low part of the roof, when this rose once more, and the lanthorn being hidden Josh pointed upward to a narrow crack, through which came a faint light.

“There y’are,” he said. “Don’t matter how high the water gets, we can get plenty of fresh air. Tide won’t get up there.”

The position seemed more hopeful now, for the tide would have to rise fourteen or fifteen feet to carry them to the roof; and though in certain places from low water to high water might be perhaps forty feet, they were now so near the height of the tide that it was not likely to rise much farther.

“Don’t be frightened, Taff, old chap,” said Dick in a whisper; “father’s with us, and he’ll mind that we don’t get hurt.”

“I’m not going to be frightened,” said Arthur coolly; and then Mr Temple began to talk cheerily as he stood up in the boat and held the lanthorn here and there; but first of all Will noticed that he took his geological hammer and chipped the rock on a level with the water, and soon after he made a clear bright sparkling chip about a foot higher, the granite rock glittering in the feeble rays of the lanthorn.

“I should not be a bit surprised if a good lode of metal were discovered here,” said Mr Temple; and he went on chatting lightly about mines and minerals and Cornwall generally, but somehow he could not draw the attention of his companions from that bright mark on the rock, towards which the water was constantly creeping, and then seemed to glide away, as if exhausted with the effort.

And certainly it was a horrible position to sit there with no light but that shed by the yellow lanthorn, the boat heaving up and sinking beneath them, and the sounds of the water dripping and splashing, and now and then making curious sucking and gasping noises, as it ran in and out of cracks and crevices in the rocks.

All at once there was a loud, ringing, echoing blow upon the rock, as the boat approached close to the side, and Mr Temple struck it sharply with his hammer, for one mark had gone and the water was lipping and lapping fast towards the other.

The scraps of granite flew pattering into the water, as blow succeeded blow, Mr Temple making a deep mark on the rock to relieve his pent-up feelings, and to take the attention of his boys, who kept looking at him nervously, as if asking for help in this time of peril.

This done, he made Josh move the boat from side to side of their narrow prison, inviting Dick and Will to help as he chipped here and chipped there, and talked about the different kinds of granite and quartz that he cleared from the dark mossy growth and the film of ages.

But there was the water lapping and lapping and rising, and it was plain now that there would hardly be room to turn beneath the arch-like opening that separated them from the portion where Josh had expected to see the daylight.

It seemed to have grown intensely hot too, for the faint current of cool air that they had felt since entering the place had stopped for some time past, and still the water kept rising, and at last seemed to come through the narrowing opening with so horrible a gurgling rush that it affected even stolid Josh, who took his cap off and said that it was “a gashly ugly noise.”

No one spoke, for the attention of all was taken by the increasing sounds made by the water, which seemed forced in now in a way that affected the boat, making it rock and adding so to the horror of the situation that Will leaned towards Josh and whispered for a few moments.

“It’s only because there isn’t so much room, Master Dick, that’s all,” he said.

“Yes, that be all,” growled Josh; “it don’t rise no faster than it did afore. P’r’aps you wouldn’t mind making another water-mark, sir. T’other’s ’most covered.”

But Mr Temple’s hammer was already raised as he spoke, and the cave echoed with his blows.

“It sounds different, doesn’t it, Will?” said Arthur softly. “It don’t echo so much, and seem to run along.”

“No,” said Will, in the same tone of voice, “there is not so much room. We seem more shut-up like. But it will soon begin to go down now.”

“Will it?” whispered Arthur; “or shall we all be shut-up here and drowned?”

“Oh, no, no!” whispered back Will; “don’t you get thinking that. The water must begin to go down again soon.”

“What time is it high water?” said Mr Temple suddenly.

“Two o’clock, sir,” said Josh.

“Why, it must be near that time now,” said Mr Temple, laying down his hammer to take out his watch. “Hold the light here, Dick.”

Dick caught up the lanthorn, but in doing so caught his foot against one of the bottom boards, stumbled, and there was a splash, and then utter darkness.

The lanthorn had gone overboard, and as the water, disturbed by the fall of the lanthorn and the rocking motion given to the boat, washed and lapped and whispered against the sides, with gasps and suckings and strange sounds, that seemed to be ten times louder in the darkness, Josh growled out:

“Well, you have gone and done it now!”

Then there was utter silence. The water came in with a rush and gurgle that was fearful. The boat heaved and bumped against the side, and it seemed to the prisoners as if the next moment they must be swamped.

But as with breathlessness they listened, the sounds and disturbance died away to whispers, and there was nothing but a feeble lapping.

“It’s only noise,” said Will, suddenly breaking the silence. “The boat can’t hurt.”

“Will’s right,” growled Josh; “but it’s a gashly place to be in without a light.”

“Crick, crack!”

There was a flash, and a little flame for a few moments as Josh, who had taken out his match-box, struck a light, and held it till it was ready to burn his fingers, when he let it fall in the smooth surface of the water, where it was extinguished with a hiss.

“Don’t burn any more, my man,” said Mr Temple; “we may want them—”

He was about to say, “in a greater emergency,” but he checked himself.

“Right, sir,” replied Josh.

“Do you think it is high water now?”

“No, sir. ’Nother two hours to flow,” replied Josh. “I remember a case once where some chaps was shut-up in a zorn like this, and—”

“Hush!—hold your tongue!” whispered Will excitedly; “don’t tell about that.”

“Why not?” growled Josh. “We aren’t going to be drowned and washed out to sea.”

“Are you mad, Josh?” whispered Will. “You’ll frighten them.”

“Oh! all right, then,” growled Josh; “I didn’t know.”

Mr Temple was silent, and, bending forward, he took hold of Arthur’s hand and pressed it.

“Don’t be alarmed, my boy,” he said. “There is no more danger now than when it was light.”

“I’m trying to be brave, papa,” said Arthur softly.

“That’s as good as being brave,” whispered back Mr Temple. “What?” he said, as the boy clung to his hand and leaned forward till his lips nearly touched his father’s ear.

“I want to tell you something,” whispered Arthur. “I was too great a coward to tell you before. That cigar-case was not Dick’s, but mine.”

Mr Temple was silent for a few minutes, and then he said:

“Better late than never, my boy. If you had come frankly to me, and not let your brother take that bit of blame, I should have felt that you could not be a coward. Arthur, my boy, you have a good deal to master yet. Well, Dick,” he said aloud in a cheery tone, “how are you?”

“Capital, father,” said Dick, “but so dreadfully hungry.”

“Well, we can’t be prisoners much longer.”

“Hours yet,” growled Josh—“eh, Will?”

“I don’t think so, Josh. You must have been asleep a long time, and don’t count that.”

“G’long,” cried Josh. “Don’t talk gashly nonsense.”

“Strike another light,” said Mr Temple after they had listened once more to the horrible gurgling and washing of the incoming water, and the hardly less startling sounds it made as it escaped. “Hand the light to me directly.”

Josh struck a match and passed it to Mr Temple, who had just time to see that his last mark was covered, and the boat far higher up the sides of the cave before he had to drop it in the water.

“Still rising,” he said quietly. “This will be a curious adventure to talk of, boys, in the future.”

Neither Dick nor Arthur spoke, for Dick was wondering whether they would ever get out alive, and Arthur dared not trust himself to utter a word, for he was finding it terribly hard work to be brave at a time like this.

All at once Josh began to whistle an air—a doleful minor melody, that sounded so strange and weird there in the darkness that Will stopped him.

“Don’t do that, Josh,” he said softly.

“Why not? One must do something.”

“It annoys them,” whispered Will.

“Ho!” said Josh. Then he was silent, and for quite half an hour all sat listening to the gurgling, hissing, and rushing noises made by the water.

Then, when it seemed to Dick, who had tight hold of his brother’s hand, that he could bear it no longer, his father asked for another match.

Josh struck it, and it snapped in two and fell in the bottom of the boat, but burned long enough for him to light another, which was successfully handed to Mr Temple, while Will took the hitcher and forced the boat back to where the marks had been made on the wall by Mr Temple’s hammer.

“Strike another, my man, and hand it to me quick,” cried Mr Temple excitedly; and as it was done, and the tiny flame burned brightly in the black darkness, he stood holding it close to the wall of rock; and then as he let the little flame fall and extinguish itself, he exclaimed joyfully:

“At last, boys! There’s no danger. The tide is falling fast.”

“Falling fast a’ready?” cried Josh.

“Yes; it is down a foot.”

“Then—well, of all the gashly things! I must ha’ been asleep.”

It was but a question of waiting now; and though the time seemed long there was plenty to interest the little party, as Mr Temple had the boat kept close up to the rock, and felt his marks, announcing from time to time how much the water had gone down. Then Dick got Will to thrust down the boat-hook to try how deep it was, but to try in vain, though they were more successful with the lead on a fishing-line, Josh measuring the line after the lead had touched bottom, and announcing it as “’bout five fathom.”

All at once they noticed that the horrible rushing and gurgling of the water had ceased; and soon after it became plain that it was harder work to keep the boat close to the rock, for, in spite of the returns of the water as the waves beat outside, there was a steady, constant set of the current towards the mouth. So at last the measurement by the rocks had to be given up, for Josh gave it as his opinion that they might as well let the boat drift towards the cave mouth.

This was done; and though they were unable to calculate their progress, as time went on they felt that they must be nearer the entrance.

Josh poked about with a boat-hook, now at the sides, now at the roof; and then, as they were sitting down waiting patiently, there was a peculiar shuffling and splashing noise heard.

“What’s that?” exclaimed Dick.

“Seal!” cried Will; and as he spoke there was a splash as if the creature had dived off a rock into the water.

But they had something more interesting than the seal to take their attention, for all at once there was a faint greeny transparency right before them. Then it darkened, lightened again, darkened and lightened more or less till, all at once, there was a flash, so short, quick, and brilliant that it dazzled their darkness-becurtained eyes like lightning.

“Hoo-ray!” shouted Dick, stamping his feet on the bottom of the boat. “Now, all together—hip-hip-hip hooray!”

Arthur, Will, and Josh joined in making the cave echo as there was another and another flash of light, and soon after the arch at the mouth of the cave began to open more and more; and at last the boat floated out into the dazzling afternoon sunshine, and was rowed steadily back.

“Been shut-up in a zorn!” cried Mrs Marion, who declared that the dinner was spoiled; “then it was all the fault of that great idle Josh and that stupid, good-for-nothing boy.”

“No, Mrs Marion,” said Mr Temple gently, “the fault was entirely mine.”

Chapter Thirty Three.

Mr Temple takes Will into his Confidence and astonishes Uncle Abram.

“Dick,” said Mr Temple one morning, as he looked up from the table covered with specimens of ore and papers.

“Yes, father.”

“Is Will Marion at home?”

“Yes, father. Hark!” He held up his hand to command silence, and from the back garden came the sound of a shrill voice scolding, and the deep rumble of Uncle Abram, apparently responding.

“You idle, good-for-nothing, useless creature. I wish we were well rid of you, I do.”

“Softly. Steady, old lady, steady,” growled Uncle Abram.

“Oh! it’s no use for you to take his part. I say he’s a lazy, idle, stupid, worthless fellow, and he sha’n’t stop here any longer. There: get out of my sight, sir—get out of my sight, and don’t come back here till you’re asked.”

“Easy, old lady, easy,” growled Uncle Abram. “What’s the lad been doing now?”

“Nothing,” cried Aunt Ruth, who was suffering from the effect of what people call getting out of bed the wrong way—“nothing, and that’s what he’s always doing—nothing. I’m sick of the sight of him—eat, eat, eat, and sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, and grow, grow, grow, all the year round. I’m sure I don’t know what we do having him here. I hate the sight of him.”

“Will,” said Uncle Abram, “go down and see that the boat’s cleaned out; perhaps Mr Temple will want her to-day.”

“Eat, eat, eat, and grow, grow, grow,” cried Aunt Ruth.

“Which it is the boy’s natur’ to,” said the old man good-humouredly. “There, be off, Will.”

“Run out now and you’ll catch him before he goes,” said Mr Temple.

Dick hurried out by the front to waylay Will, but encountered Uncle Abram.

“Where’s Will, my lad? Oh! he’s coming. Old lady’s been blowing off steam a bit. Busy day with her, you see. Cleaning. Didn’t hear, did you?”

“Oh, yes! we could hear every word,” said Dick with a comical look.

The old gentleman glanced over his shoulder and then patted Dick on the chest with the back of his hand. “It’s all right,” he said in a deep bass. “She don’t mean nothing by it. Fond o’ Will as ever she can be. Feels often, you know, as she must scold something, and sometimes she scolds Will, sometimes it’s Amanda the lass, sometimes me. Why,” he said cheerfully, “I have known her set to and let the tables and chairs have it for not shining when they were being rubbed. It’s all right, my lad, all right. She’s awfully fond of our Will, and if you hear her say she aren’t don’t you believe her. Here he comes.”