Devon Boys Part 2

"You did. Now, just you wait till old Big comes and see if he don't say so too."

"Yah! He'd say anything. What does he know about it?"

"Well, here he comes," I said.

"Let him come; I don't care."

"And he has got a coil of rope over his shoulder."

"Well, what do I care? Any fool might get a ring of rope over his shoulder."

"Yes, but what for?"

"Oh, I dunno; don't bother!" said Bob surlily.

Meanwhile Bigley Uggleston was coming along at a lumbering trot, and as soon as he was within hearing I shouted to him:

"What are you going to do with that rope?" And now for the first time I noticed that he was carrying a long iron bar balanced in his right hand.

Big did not answer, but came panting on.

"There, I told you so!" cried Bob; "didn't I say so?"

"I don't care if you did," I retorted; and just then our companion panted up to us and threw himself down, breathless with his exertions.

"What did you fetch the rope for?" I cried eagerly.

"To"--puff--"throw it over"--puff--"the big stone"--puff--"up atop, same"--puff--"as Bob Chowne said"--puff--"last year."

"There!" I cried triumphantly, turning on Bob.

I was sorry I had spoken directly after, for Bob tightened his lips and half shut his eyes as he rose slowly to his feet, thrust his hands in his pockets, and began to move off.

"Here, what are you going to do?" I cried.

"Going home."

"What for?"

"What for? Where's the use o' stopping? You keep on trying to pick a quarrel with a fellow."

"Why, I don't, Bob. I say, don't go. We're just going to have no end of fun."

"Yes," cried Big; "and I've brought one of my father's net bars to drive in the rock and fasten the rope to, and then no one need hold it."

"No, I sha'n't stop," grumbled Bob sourly. "Where's the use o' stopping with chaps as always want to quarrel?"

"I don't want to quarrel," I said.

"And I'm sure I don't," said Big. "I hate it."

"More don't I," growled Bob. "It's Sep Duncan; he's always trying to have a row with somebody."

"Here, come on," cried Big. "I've got the rope and the bar."

"No," said Bob, sticking his hands farther into his pockets and sidling off; "I'm going home."

"Oh, I say, don't spoil our fun, Bob," I cried.

"'Taint me; it's you," he said. "I sha'n't stay."

"Oh, if it's me I'm very sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to be disagreeable."

"Oh, well, if you're sorry and didn't mean to be disagreeable I'll stay," he said. "Only don't you do it again."

"Say you won't," whispered Big.

"Well, I won't do it again," I cried, though I felt all the time as if I wanted to laugh outright.

"Then I sha'n't say any more about it," said Bob, relenting all at once.

"I say, Big, is that rope strong?"

"Strong enough to hold all of us," he replied. "Here, come along.

It'll soon be dinner-time. I'm getting hungry now."

"Why, you're always hungry, Big," cried Bob as we began to climb the steep slope diagonally.

"Yes, I am," he a.s.sented. "I do eat such a lot, and then I always feel as if I wanted to eat a lot more."

It was a stiff climb over the loose slates and in and out among the rough ma.s.ses of stone that projected every here and there; but the air grew fresher and cooler as we made our way from sheep-track to sheep-track, where the little brown b.u.t.terflies kept darting up in our path; and as we stopped again and again, it was to get a wider view of the sail-dotted sea all rippling and sparkling like silver in the sun, while as we climbed higher still we began to get glimpses of the high hills along the coast to the west, and the great moor into which the Gap seemed to run like a rugged trough.

At last after many halts we reached the piled-up ma.s.s of rocks known as the Beacon--a huge heap of moss-grown grey fragments that stood on the very crest of the ridge.

It was a favourite place with us, and many an expedition had been made here to sit under the shelter of the great lump of rock that crowned the heap, a ma.s.s about fifteen feet high, and as many long and broad, the whole forming just such a cube as you find in the sugar basin, and whose sides were so perpendicular that we had never reached the top.

But this time, provided with rope, and, by Bigley Uggleston's forethought, with the iron bar, the ascent seemed easy, and we set about it at once.

Big soon found a place on the shoulder of our little mountain where blocks of a ton-weight and less lay around, some of them so weakened and overhanging that they looked as if a touch would send them thundering down into the gorge.

Between two of these Big drove in the long iron bar, the rope was thrown right over the rock, one end tied securely to the bar, the other held by Bigley on the other side, the great heavy fellow hanging on to it, and the question arose as to whether Bob or I was to make the first attempt.

I wanted to go, but I felt that if I did, Bob would be affronted, so I gave way and let him lead, giving him a hoist or two as he seized the rope, and climbed, and scratched, and kicked, and got up half-way and then slid down again.

"Here, Big," he shouted, "what's the good of bringing such a stupid little thin rope? It's no good."

"Can't you get up?" cried Big.

"No, nor anyone else. It's no use. Let's get back."