First in the Field Part 30

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

LIFE AT THE STATION.

The late supper in the plain, homely room--where the table was on trestles, the chairs were stools, and the arm-chairs ingeniously cut out of casks, the carpet sacking, and the hearthrug skins--and the performance in the way of sleep on his arrival, interfered sadly with Nic's night's rest.

It was an hour after his father's return before they all retired; and as soon as Nic was in his room he felt not the slightest inclination for bed. Everything was so new and fresh; the brilliant moonlight lit up the tract outside with such grand effects that the first thing he did was to take the home-made tallow candle out of its socket and hold it upside down till it was extinct, and then put it back.

The room was now all bright in one part, black shadow in the others; and he was going to the open window to look out, but just then an idea struck him, and he took up his gun, closed the pan, drew the flint hammer to half-c.o.c.k, and proceeded to load. He carefully measured his charge of powder in the top of the copper flask, and poured it into the barrel, in happy unconsciousness that in the future ingenious people would contrive not only guns that would open at the breech for a cartridge containing in itself powder, shot, and explosive cap, to be thrust in with one movement, but magazine rifles that could be loaded for many shots at once.

Then on the top of the powder he rammed down a neatly cut-out disk of felt, the ramrod, drawn from its loops and reversed, compressing the air in the barrel, driving the powder out through the touch-hole into the pan, and making a peculiar sound running in a kind of gamut: pash-- pesh--pish--posh--poosh--push--pud--pod--por--with the wind all out and the powder compressed hard down by the wad. Next a little cylindrical shovel full of shot was extracted from the belt, whose spring closed as the measure was drawn out, and the shot trickled gently into the barrel, glistening in the moonlight like globules of quicksilver. Another wad was rammed down; the pan opened and found full of the black grains, and the ramrod replaced in its loops behind the barrel, the gun being stood in the corner beside the bed ready for emergencies in that rough land.

Nic's next proceeding was to listen and find that the murmur of voices heard beyond the part.i.tion had ceased, and he slipped off his shoes and stepped softly to the open window.

The flowers smelt deliciously in the cool, soft night air, and he looked out, leaning his arms on the sill to realise more thoroughly that he was in the place he had so often longed to see when he did a similar thing at the Friary in far-off Kent.

It seemed impossible, but it was true enough. His old schoolfellows might be looking out of the window now over the Kentish hills, but he was divided from them by the whole thickness of the great globe. They were in the northern portion of the temperate zone; he, as he leaned out, was in the southern. They would be looking at the hills; he was gazing at the rugged mountains. Then, too, it was just the opposite season to theirs--summer to their winter, winter to their summer.

"It's like a big puzzle," thought Nic. "I shan't understand it all till I've made a globe. I wish I'd studied the big one at the Friary more.

How strange it all seems!"

As he looked out, the place appeared very different. He had seen it in the full sunshine; now, in the silence of the night, the trees glistened in the moonlight as if frosted, and the shadows cast stood out black, sharp, and as if solid.

And how still and awful it all seemed! Not a sound,--yes, there was: an impatient stamp from somewhere on the other side of the house. He knew what that was, though: the horses were troubled by some night insect.

There was another sound, too, as he listened--and another--and another.

He was wrong: there was no awful silence; the night, as his ears grew accustomed to the sounds, was full of noises, which impressed him strangely or the reverse as he was able to make them out or they remained mysteries.

As he tried to pierce the distance, and his eyes wandered through the network of light among the trees on the slopes which ran up toward the mountains, his first thoughts were of blacks coming stealing along from shelter to shelter, till close enough to rush forward to the attack upon the station; and over and over again his excited imagination suggested dark figures creeping slowly from bush to bush or from tree to tree.

Once or twice he felt certain that he saw a tall figure standing out in the moonlight watching the house, but common sense soon suggested that a savage would not stand in so exposed a position, but would be in hiding.

Then, too, as minutes pa.s.sed on and he was able to see that the objects did not move, he became convinced that they were stumps of trees.

That sound, though, was peculiar, and it was repeated. It was a cough, and that was startling, just in the neighbourhood of the house. But again he was able to explain it, for he had heard that cough in the fields of Kent, and the feeling of awe and dread pa.s.sed off; for he knew it was the very human cough of a sheep.

But that was no sheep--that peculiar croaking cry that was heard now here, now there, as if the utterer were dashing in all directions. That was followed by a hollow trumpeting, and a short, harsh whistle, and a strange clanging sound from far away, while close at hand there was a soft, plaintive whistling and a subdued croak.

By degrees, though, as he listened, he was able to approximate to the origin of these calls. Night-hawks, cranes, curlews, and frogs might, any of them, or all, be guilty; and some kind of cricket undoubtedly produced that regular stridulation, as of a piece of ivory drawn along the teeth of a metal comb.

Then there was a heavy booming buzz, as some great beetle swung by; and beneath all, like a monotonous ba.s.s, came a deep roar, which could only be produced by falling water plunging down from on high into some rocky basin.

"What a place! what a wonderful place!" thought Nic, as he gazed out-- perfectly sleepless now; and as he thought, the idea of wild beasts came into his head, for there was a deep-toned, bellowing roar, very suggestive of tiger or lion, till it was answered by a distant lowing, and he knew that the first was the bellow of some huge bull, the latter the distant cry of a bullock far up in the hills.

The time glided on. The white bed was no longer inviting, and he could not tear himself away from the window. At last, though, thinking that he had better lie down for fear of being very tired next day, he reached out his hand to draw in the cas.e.m.e.nt, but kept it there, for a very familiar sound now struck upon his ear: _Clap, clap, clap, clap_ of wings, and then a thoroughly hearty old English c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo! and the boy burst into a merry laugh.

"Go to sleep, you muddle-headed thing," he muttered. "Don't make that noise in the middle of the night.--They always do that at home when the moon shines."

But the c.o.c.k-crow was answered from a distance, and there was the lowing of cows; chirping came from the trees, there was the piping of the magpie, and soon after the deep chuckle of a great kingfisher, followed by burst of; shrieks and jarring calls from a great tree; and it suddenly struck the watcher that there was a pallid light shed from somewhere behind him.

"Why," he said half aloud, in a regular Hibernian spirit, "it's to-morrow morning!"

Morning it was, coming on fast; and all thought of bed being now given over, Nic began to put on his shoes.

"Lady O'Hara said things were all upside down here," he muttered; "but I didn't know I was going to sleep in the daylight and sit up all night."

A few minutes' thought, however, took away his surprise at the apparently sudden advent of the dawn, for it was well on toward morning when the family had left the dining-room--that name being maintained; and now, feeling bright, cheery, and full of antic.i.p.ations of what he had to see in his new home, Nic had a wash and brush and hurried out, to find that the business of the day had begun.

The first he encountered was Leather, who responded to his cheery good morning with a keen look and a surly nod, as he pa.s.sed on, and went off from the shed he had left for the open field.

The next minute, as Nic went round the house, there was a tremendous burst of barking, and the two dogs charged at him so excitedly that one went right over the other in collision; but they were up again directly, leaping at him, careering round, snapping playfully at each other, and madly showing their delight at meeting a familiar face in the strange home.

"Hullo, old fellows!--good dogs, then!" cried Nic, lavishing his caresses on the excited beasts. "Down there! steady there! I'm not for breakfast: don't eat me." The dogs sobered down and trotted beside him, each trying to walk with its sharp-pointed muzzle thrust into one of his hands.

"Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle," came from a great tree which sheltered one side of the house, and the dogs looked up and barked.

"'Morning, young master," came in a harsh, cracked voice: "smart morning. Here, you two: I'm just going to feed old Nibbler, and I'll give you a share."

There was the rattle of a chain hard by, and a heavy bark, as a great dog like a greyhound that had grown stout, came out of a kennel formed of a barrel laid on its side. The great beast looked at the two collies and growled, while the latter set up the dense frills of hair about their necks and showed their teeth.

"None o' that, now!" cried old Samson. "You three have got to be friends. You don't know Nibbler, Master Nicklas."

"Dominic," cried the boy.

"Ah, I allus forget. Missus has told me your name times enough, too. I can allus recklect that there's a Nic in it. Hi, you, Nib, this here's the young master--young master! d'yer hear?"

The dog growled, but wagged its tail.

"We calls him Nibbler, sir; but he's a biter, and no mistake, ain't yer, old man? You ought to ha' had him with yer when them blacks come yesterday. He don't mind spears and boomerangs, do you, Nib?"

The dog growled and showed its teeth.

"Pst, lad!--blackfellow."

The dog made a bound to the full extent of its chain, and uttered a deep bay.

"All right, Nib. Gone!" cried Samson, showing his yellow teeth.

"Breakfast."

The dog's manner changed directly.

"Come and pat him, Master Nico-de--d.i.c.k-o-me--I say, sir, hadn't I better keep to Nic?"

"Yes, if you like," replied the boy, approaching the great dog, but only to be received with a low growl.

"Ah!" shouted Samson, "didn't I tell you this was young master come home? Down!"

The dog threw itself on its side, blinked at him with one eye and raised one paw deprecatingly, as it slowly rapped the ground with its long thin tail.

"Now come and put your foot on his neck, sir, and pat his head. Don't you be afraid."