Devon Boys Part 44

"Sorry?"

"Yes, father," I replied, "because I like Bigley Uggleston."

"So do I, my boy. I like his quiet modesty under ordinary circ.u.mstances, and the sterling manner in which you have told me that he has come to the front in emergencies. But stop: I don't ask you to break with him, for he may be useful to us after all. There, let me finish these figures I am setting down, and I'll talk to you again."

I sat down and watched him, and then looked round the bare office, with its high up window close to the ceiling, and ladder leading to the two rooms above. Spread over the floor was a large foreign rug that my father had brought from the Mediterranean many years before, and this rug was stretched over the middle of the large office as if it had been brought from the cottage to make the place more homelike and comfortable. But it struck me all at once that the rug had been placed there to hide a trap-door. Then, as I sat looking about, I noticed that the door was very thick and strong, and that there were bars at the window in which the gla.s.s was set.

I might have noticed all this before, but it did not seem of any consequence till my father talked of the bars of silver and their value, and as I sat thinking, the place began to look quite romantic, and I thought what a strange affair it would be, and how exciting if robbers or smugglers were to come and attack it, and my father, and Sam, and the men from the mine to have to defend it, and there were to be a regular fight.

Once started thinking in that vein my mind grew busy, and I felt that if I were at the head of affairs I should arrange to have plenty of swords and pistols, and that made me think of old Sam and the cannon down the cliff garden.

I laughed at that, though, as being absurd, and began to think directly after that my father's sword and pistols that always used to hang over the chimney-piece in the little parlour were not there now.

"Why, I daresay he has brought them down here," I said to myself; and I looked round, half expecting to see them, but they were not visible, and I came to the conclusion that they must be in the cupboard in the corner.

My heart began to beat, and a curious feeling of excitement took possession of me, as my imagination had a big flight. I began to see myself armed with a sword helping my father, who, being a captain, would be a splendid leader.

"But we ought to have plenty of swords and guns," I thought, and I determined when my father began to speak to me again, to propose that he should have a little armoury in the cupboard.

Then I began to think about old Jonas, and the possibility of his getting a lot of men and coming and making an attack. There had been a rumour that he and his people had once, many years ago, had a fight with the king's men; but when Bob Chowne and I talked to him about it, Bigley fired up and said it was all nonsense. But it occurred before he was born.

It had never occurred to me before that this was a strange declaration.

For how could it be all nonsense and yet have occurred before he was born?

It seemed now as if it was not all nonsense.

One thought brought up another, and I found myself thinking that, if I was helping my father defend the treasure of silver here in the store, and fighting bravely, as I felt sure I should, Bigley would be helping his father to make the attack, and I saw myself having a terrific cutla.s.s combat with him somewhere out on the slope. Then I should have had a great deal of training from my father, who was an accomplished swordsman, and I should disarm old Big and take him prisoner, and then when night came, for the sake of old school-days, I should unfasten his hands and let him escape.

My thoughts ran very freely, and I was fully determined to grind the sword that I had not seen, and which perhaps had not yet been made, as sharp as a razor. It would be very easy, I thought, when I got it, to make old Sam turn the grindstone at home, while I put on a tremendous edge and tried it on the thin branches of some of the trees.

"What an exciting time it would be!" I thought, and I could not help wishing that I should have to wear some kind of uniform, for a bit of gold lace would go so well with a sword. Then I stopped short, for in all my planning there was no place for Bob Chowne, who was regularly left out of the business.

"Oh, how stupid!" I thought directly after. "He would be the surgeon's--his father's--a.s.sistant, and bind up everybody's wounds."

I'm afraid I was, like a great many more boys, ready to have my imagination take fire at the idea of a fight, and never for a moment realising what the horrors of bloodshed really were.

"Poor Bob!" I thought to myself. "He wouldn't like that, having to do nothing but tie and sew up wounds." He was so fond of a fight that he would want to be in it; and I concluded that we would let him fight while the fight was going on, and have a sword and pistols, and afterwards I could help him bandage the wounds.

Then I came back to Bigley, and began to think that, after all, it would be very queer for him to be fighting on one side and me on the other, and it did not seem natural, for we two had never had a serious quarrel, though I had had many a set-to with other lads, and had twice over given Bob Chowne black eyes, the last time when he gave me that terrible punch on the nose, when it bled so long that we all grew frightened, and determined to go to the doctor's, and it suddenly stopped.

I don't know how much more nonsense I should have thought if my father had not made a movement as if to get up, and that changed the current of my thoughts.

But he went on writing again, and this time I began watching a large chest that stood in one corner of the room, bound with clamps of iron, and it looked so heavy and strong that I concluded that it must be full of ingots of silver ready to send away.

I grew tired of looking at that box, and as my fancy did not seem disposed to run again upon fighting and defence, I sat listening to the scratching of my father's pen and the ticking of the clock, and then to the dull roar of the furnace, while mingled with it came the clattering of hammers, the creaking of the great windla.s.s, and the rushing and plashing of falling water.

Just then there was a tap as of some one's knuckles at the door, and in obedience to a look from my father I got up and opened it, to turn quite red in the face, for there stood my old school-fellow about whom so much had been said--Bigley Uggleston.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

FOREARMED AS WELL AS FOREWARNED.

"Who is it?" said my father.

"Bigley Uggleston," I replied, feeling very awkward.

"Oh, come in, my lad," said my father quietly; and as I held the door back for him to enter, it suddenly struck me what a frank, handsome-looking fellow he had grown.

I felt more awkward still, for it seemed to me that I was going to listen to some very unpleasant remarks about our companionship being broken off; but to my surprise my father said quietly:

"Come after Sep?"

"Yes, sir. I thought if he was not busy--"

"Well, but he is," said my father smiling. "He was about to unpack that box for me--I was just going to set him the task."

Bigley drew back, but my father said good-humouredly:

"Why don't you stop and help him?"

"May I, sir? I should like to."

"Go on, then, my lads. Take the lid off carefully, Sep. There is a screw-driver in that cupboard."

I went eagerly to the cupboard and opened it, to give quite a start, for there, hanging upon nails at the back, were the pistols and sword I had remembered were absent from home.

I found the screw-driver in a sort of tool-chest, and as Bigley and I took it in turns to draw the screws, my father cleared the table.

"Be careful," he said. "You can lay the things out here. I shall soon be back."

He left us together, and, all eagerness now, I worked away at the screws, which were very tight, and there were four on each side of the lid, and others in the clamps, which had to be removed before the lid could be raised.

"I am glad I came, Sep," said Bigley. "I was wondering why you hadn't been down to me."

"Were you?" I said, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Yes. What's in the box?"

"I don't know," I said. "I thought it was blocks of metal, packed to send away."

I hesitated before I said metal. I was going to say silver; but I felt, after my father's words, as if I ought to be cautious.

"I believe I know what's inside," said my companion.

"Well, what?" I cried, as I tugged at another screw which refused to go round.

"New tools for the mine."