Crown and Sceptre Part 10

"That's right. They're both cross to-day; they'll make it up to-morrow."

"Fred!" said Colonel Forrester over his shoulder as he rode off.

"Coming, father. Good-bye, Scar; and, I say, don't tell anybody about the secret place just yet."

"Very well."

"It will be all right again directly. Father soon gets good-tempered again after he has been cross; but it always makes him angry if anybody praises up the king."

"Fred!"

"Coming, father."

The boy darted off after the departing horseman, and Scarlett sat watching them till they disappeared among the trees, when he went slowly into the house, catching sight of his father striding up and down in the dining-room, and with a more serious look in his face than he remembered to have seen before.

"I hope there is not going to be trouble and fighting, the same as there has been elsewhere," thought the boy; and he involuntarily glanced through the open hall-door at the beautiful landscape, across which seemed to float visions of soldiers and burning homesteads, and destruction such as had been brought to them in the shape of news from far distant parts.

The coming of his father roused him from his reverie.

"Why, Scar, lad, don't look so serious," cried Sir G.o.dfrey, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "I spoke angrily, didn't I, my boy? Well, I was obliged in these rebellious times. Remember this, Scar, no matter what comes, 'G.o.d save the king!'"

"Yes, father," cried the boy, flushing as he took off his cap and tossed it in the air, "'G.o.d save the king!'"

CHAPTER FIVE.

ANOTHER DISCOVERY.

Fred was right; the two elders did soon make it up, and the political ebullition seemed to be forgotten. The boys were soon together again, enjoying their simple country ways as of yore, while the clouds gathering around only looked golden in their sunshiny life.

The search for the outlet to the secret pa.s.sage was renewed without success, and then given up for a time. There was so much to see and do that glorious autumn time when the apples were ripening fast, and hanging in great ropes from the heavily laden trees, beneath whose tangled boughs all was grey and green leaves and gloom, every orchard being an improvised wilderness, which was allowed to bear or be barren according to its will.

There was always so much to do. Trout to hunt up the little moorland streams; loaches to impale among the stones of the swift torrents; rides over the long undulating stretches of the moor, from far inland to where it ended abruptly in steep cliffs by the sea.

And so life glided on at Manor and Hall. The king and country were not mentioned; Colonel and Mistress Forrester supped at the Hall, and little Lil listened to the sweet old-fashioned ballads the visitor sang. Then the Scarletts spent pleasant evenings at the Manor, and the two fathers discussed the future of their sons, while Dame Markham and Mistress Forrester seemed to be like sisters.

But all the while the storm-clouds were gathering, and a distant muttering of thunder told that the tempest threatened to break over the pleasant west-country land.

"There's going to be a big change o' some kind, Master Scarlett," said Nat, the gardener; "and if there is, it won't be any too soon, for it will put my brother Samson in his proper place, and keep him there."

"Yes, Master Fred, I went and had a mug o' cider down in the village last night, poor winegar wee sort o' stuff--three apples to a bucket o'

water--such as my brother Nat makes up at the Hall; and there they all were talking about it. People all taking sides all over England.

Some's Cavaliers and some's Roundheads, so they say, and one party's for the king, and the other isn't. Precious awful, aren't it?"

"Perhaps it's only talk, Samson?"

"No, Master Fred, sir, I don't think it's all talk; but there is a deal o' talk."

"Ah, well, it's nothing to do with us, Samson. Let them quarrel. We're too busy out here to bother about their quarrels."

"Well, I dunno, sir. I'm not a quarrelsome chap, but I heard things as my brother Nat has said quite bad enough to make me want to go again him, for we two never did agree; and when it comes to your own brother telling downright out-and-out lies about the Manor vegetables and fruit, I think it's time to speak, don't you?"

"Oh, I wish you and Nat would meet some day, and shake hands, or else fight it out and have done with it; brothers oughtn't to quarrel."

"I dunno, Master Fred, I dunno."

"Ah, well, I think all quarrels are a bother, whether they're big ones or whether they're little ones. They say the king and Parliament have fallen out; well, if I had my way, I'd make the king and Parliament shake hands, just as Scar Markham and I will make you and Nat shake yours."

"Nay, Master Fred, never!"

"I'm going to meet him this afternoon, and we'll talk it over."

Samson shook his head.

Home studies were over for the day, and by a natural attraction, Fred started by a short cut to the high point of the moor, just at the same time as Scar Markham left the Hall for the same spot.

"He'll be in some mischief or another before he gets back," said Samson Dee, as he ceased digging, and rested one foot upon the top of his spade, watching his young master contemplatively as he went along the road for a short distance before leaping up the bank, and beginning to tramp among heath, brake, and furze, over the springy turf.

Samson shook his head sadly, and sighed as he watched Fred's progress, the figure growing smaller and smaller, sometimes disappearing altogether in a hollow, and then bounding into sight again like one of the moorland sheep.

"Yes; some mischief!" sighed Samson again, and he watched the lad with the sorrowful expression on the increase, till the object of his consideration was out of sight, when he once more sighed, and recommenced digging. "You don't catch me, though, making it up."

Oddly enough--perhaps it would be more correct to say naturally enough-- Nat Dee ceased digging up in the Hall garden to watch Scarlett Markham, who, after sending his sister Lil back into the house in tears, because he refused to take her with him, started off at a rapid pace.

"Wonder what mischief he's going to be at," said Nat, half aloud; and he, too, rested a foot on the top of his spade, and contemplated the retiring form.

Perhaps, after all, digging is exceedingly hard work, and a break is very welcome; but whether it be so or no, the fact is always evident that a gardener is ready to cease lifting the fat mellow earth of a garden, and stand and think upon the slightest excuse.

Nat Dee waited till Scar had disappeared, and then he slowly and sorrowfully resumed his task, and sighed with a feeling of regret for the time when he too was a boy, and indulged in unlimited idleness and endless quarrels with his brother Samson.

Fred Forrester whistled as he slowly climbed the hill, which was shaped like a level surfaced mound, and stood right up above the ordinary undulations of the moor, and Scarlett Markham whistled as he slowly climbed the other side, while high overhead, to turn the duet into a trio, there was another whistler in the shape of a speckled lark, soaring round and round as if he were describing the figure of a gigantic corkscrew, whose point was intended to pierce the clouds.

There had been a shower earlier in the day, and the earth sent forth a sweet fragrance, which mingled with the soft salt breeze, and sent a thrill of pleasure through the frames of the two lads hastening to their trysting-place. They did not know that their feet crushed the wild thyme, or caused fresh odours to float upon the air, or whether the breeze came from north, south, or west; all that they knew was that they felt very happy, and that they were out on the moor, ready to enjoy themselves by doing something, they knew not what. They did not even know that they were each performing a part in a trio, the little lark being so common an object as to be unnoticed, while the top of the hill divided the two terrestrial whistlers from each other.

Fred was at the highest point first, and throwing himself down on the turf, he lay watching the coming figure toiling up, while the gra.s.shoppers _chizzed_ and leaped from strand of gra.s.s to harebell, and thence to heather, and even on to the figure lying there.

The view was grand. Away to right were the undulations of the moor; to the left the high hills which seemed as if cut off short, and descended almost perpendicularly to the sea, and in front of them the sea itself, glistening in the sunshine beyond the cliff, which from the point where Fred lay looked like a lion _couchant_, end on to him, and pa.s.sing out to sea. Here and there some boat's sail seemed like a speck upon the sea, while going in different directions--seaward and toward Bristol were a couple of what Fred mentally dubbed "king's ships." Away as far as eye could reach to right and left lay the softly blue Welsh coast; but Fred's attention was divided between the lion's head-like outline of the Rill, and the slowly advancing figure of Scarlett Markham, who finished his ascent by breaking into a trot, and zigzagging up the last steep piece to throw himself down beside his friend.

They lay for some few minutes enjoying themselves, their ideas of enjoyment consisting in lying face downward resting upon their crossed arms, which formed a pillow for their chins, and kicking the turf with their toes. Then, as if moved by the same spirit, they leaped to their feet with all a boy's energy and vital force.

"Let's do something," exclaimed Scar. "Shall we go to the lake?"

"That's just what I was going to say," cried Fred; but they did not go far in an aimless way--they began to descend the hill slowly at first, then at a trot, then at headlong speed, till they stopped a part of the way up the next slope, after crossing the bottom of the little coombe between the hills.

This second hill looked wearisome after their rapid descent, so they contented themselves with walking along its side parallel with the bottom of the little valley, talking of indifferent matters till they came upon a little flock of grey and white gulls feeding amongst the short herbage, where the rain had brought out various soft-bodied creatures good in a gull's eyes for food.

The beautiful white-breasted creatures rose on their long narrow wings, and flapped and floated away.

From force of habit, Fred took up a stone and threw it after the birds, not with any prospect of hitting them, for they were a couple of hundred yards away.