Crown and Sceptre Part 17

"Oh, I'll go," said Samson; "but mind you, I warn you it won't bear."

"You do as I tell you," cried Fred, again; "and don't tell my mother where we are."

"I may tell the colonel, I suppose?" said Samson, with a laugh to himself.

"No, no, no!" cried Fred; but the words were not heard, for Samson had set off down the hill at a trot.

"I say, what a pair of stupids we are," said Fred, after trying two or three times over to find out whether Samson was still there.

"Don't talk," replied Scarlett. "Let's listen for his coming back."

"But he must be half an hour, at least; and we know we are all right now. I say, Scar, I've a good mind to go down lower, and see if there's a way to the sea."

"No, you will not," said Scarlett, rather gruffly. "Let's sit down and think."

"It's too dark to think," cried Fred, petulantly. "I wonder how this place came. Think it was made by the hill cracking, or by the sea washing it out?"

"I don't know. But shall we come again, and bring a lanthorn?"

"Yes, and regularly examine the place. We will some day. I wonder whether we're the first people who ever came down into it? I mean,"

said Fred, "the first people who were not sheep. Here, hi! Scar! what are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking what a hiding-place it would make for anybody who did not want to be found."

"Do for smugglers. Wonder whether any smugglers ever knew of it?"

"No; if they had there would have been some way down to the mouth."

"And perhaps there is, only it's too dark for us to see where it is."

Then the conversation languished, and they sat on the rough shaley earth, trying to pierce the gloom, and listening with quite a start from time to time to the sharp whirr of the pigeons' wings as they darted in and out.

At last, just when they were beginning to think it a terribly long time, Samson's voice was heard.

"Here you are! I've brought my line."

"And a big stone?"

"Yes, Master Fred; eight or nine pounder. But I warn you once more that line won't bear you boys."

"You do as I tell you. Now tie the stone to the line."

There was a few moments' pause, during which they seemed to see the red-faced gardener as he busied himself over his task, and then down came the words--

"All right."

"Lower it down."

"What?--the stone?"

"Yes. Quick."

Directly after, there was a rattling and falling of tiny bits of shale, which went on as Samson shouted--

"She won't come no farther."

"Draw the line and start it again."

Samson started the stone after hauling it up a bit, and this time it glided out of the angle in which it had rested, increased its speed, bringing down quite a shower of shale, and then there was a dull thud.

"That's it, Samson. I've got it."

"Good job, for there ain't much more."

"There's quite enough," cried Fred, as he rapidly set the stone loose, and tied the line to the rope's end. "Now, then, haul away."

"No, no, my lad; I tell you it won't bear you. You'd only have a nasty tumble."

"Haul!"

"And I shall be blamed."

"Will you haul? Oh, only wait till I come up!"

Samson gave quite a s.n.a.t.c.h at the line, and drew it up rapidly, while the boys waited to hear what he would say when he found their meaning.

"Why couldn't you have said as you meanted that!" he grumbled. "I see now. Want me to make this here fast to the pole."

"Yes, of course; then we can climb up."

"To be sure you can. I see now."

"Make it quite fast, Samson."

"I will, sir. And try it, too," he added under his breath, as he knotted the rope fast, seized and drew it tight, and then lowering himself into the crevice, he began to glide down rapidly, sending a tremendous shower of shale on to Fred's head, and making him start away just as he had drawn the rope tight ready to ascend.

"Why, what are you doing?" he shouted.

"Coming down, sir," panted Samson; and the next minute he was on the broad shelf in company with nearly enough disintegrated rock to bury the skeleton of the sheep.

"Well, 'pon my word, young gentlemen," cried the gardener, "you've got rum sort of ideas. Wouldn't no other place please you for a game but this?"

"We wanted to explore it," exclaimed Fred; "to see if there's a way down to the sh.o.r.e."

"Well, you can hear there is, lads. But why didn't you bring a lanthorn?"

"I wish we had."