Stan Lynn Part 13

Stan could hardly believe it when closing-time came and the men ceased work.

"Didn't think it was so late?" said Blunt, laughing.

"No; the time has gone like lightning."

"But don't you want your dinner?"

"No," said Stan promptly; "I don't feel--Yes, I do," he cried. "I didn't till you mentioned it."

"Shows that you have been interested, my lad. There! come along; let's have a wash and brush up, and then we'll see what the cook has for us.

I'm afraid you'll have to put up with a makeshift meal again, as Wing is on the wing, as one may say, and I don't expect him back till to-morrow night, for he has a good way to go, and the boat will sail slowly against stream. When he comes back with his report, I expect it will be necessary for me to go up and see some of the little native growers. We might take our guns and get a bit of sport among the snipes in the paddy-fields; what do you say?"

"I shall be delighted," cried Stan eagerly.

"Like big-game shooting?" said the manager carelessly, but with a twinkle in his observant eye.

"I never had the chance to try," replied Stan; "and I'm no hand at all with a gun. I had two days' rabbit-shooting in England just before I came away; that's all."

"Hit any of the rabbits?"

"Five."

"Out of how many shots?"

"About twenty," said the lad, colouring; "but, you see, I've had no practice."

"You'll get plenty here, and I'll teach you the knack of bringing down snipe."

"But you said something about big game," said Stan hesitatingly. "What did you mean--pheasants--turkeys?"

"Pheasants--turkeys!" cried the manager scornfully. "There are plenty of pheasants in the woods, but I mean tigers."

"Tigers?"

"Yes, my lad, tigers; hungry savages who carry off a poor Chinese labourer working in the fields now and then. There! wait a bit, and we'll mix up a bit of sport with our work."

That night Stan went to his bedroom and stood looking at the moon silvering the river, thinking that perhaps after all he might end by being good friends with the manager.

"He's just like a chestnut," thought the boy--"all sharp, p.r.i.c.kly husk outside; good, rich brown skin under the husk; and inside all hard, firm, sweet nut. I say, it doesn't do to judge any one at first sight.

I wonder what he thinks of me. I hope he likes me, but I'm afraid not, for he seems disposed to sneer at me now and then."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"YOU'LL SOON LEARN YOUR LESSON."

It seemed to be directly after he had lain down that the thumping at the wooden part.i.tion-wall came again, and Stan leapt out of bed to hurry to his bath.

Then came a friendly meeting and breakfast, with quite a procession of boats, _nagas_ and _sampans_, with an occasional junk, going up and down the river heavily laden with produce, or returning to the plantations bordering the river-bight.

Breakfast ended, Blunt proposed another walk through the warehouses to begin marking off the stock that was to form part of the return cargo in the loading up of the vessel by which Stan had come.

"I want you to get to be at home with all these things," said the manager quietly, "so that I can leave you in charge while I run up the river now and then on such a journey as I have sent Wing upon this time.

By the way, I wonder whether he'll be back to-day?"

Stan shook his head.

"What makes you think not?"

"I did not mean that," said Stan quickly. "I was thinking that it will be some time before I am fit to trust with such an important charge as you say."

"Oh, I don't know, Mr Modesty. It all depends upon whether you take an interest in the work," replied Blunt. "There! come along; you'll soon learn your lesson, I dare say."

"I shall try hard," said Stan gravely. "Everything here is so interesting!"

"Glad you find it so, youngster. For my part, it took a precious lot of resolution to make me stick to the work as I have done. My word! it has been dull and lonely sometimes. It has quite spoiled my temper. I might tell you that I was a nice, pleasant, mild-speaking young fellow like you when I was your age, but you wouldn't believe it," said the manager, with a laugh.

"No, I don't think I should," said Stan as they crossed an open enclosure and entered the warehouse, where the men were busy arranging the packages brought up the river by the _tindal's_ boat.

The manager began giving his orders for a fresh arrangement of certain of the packages, while Stan stood looking on, an opening just in front giving him a good view of all that was being done.

That day went like magic, and the following one too; everything was so fresh and animated, so full of interest; while when Blunt was not falling foul of some of the men, or, as one of his princ.i.p.al overlookers--a bluff, straightforward, manly fellow, who informed the new-comer that his name was Lawrence and his duties that of a Jack-of-all-trades--expressed it to Stan, in a state of eruption, the lad found him most agreeable, and always willing to explain anything.

Stan thanked Blunt in the evening for the trouble he was taking to make him fully acquainted with the routine of the business.

"Humph!" he grunted, with a curiously grim smile; "that's just like me.

I always was an idiot."

Stan stared.

"I don't understand you," he said.

"I thought I talked plainly enough," was the reply. "I say that's just like me, to be such an idiot as to tell you everything."

"Why?" said Stan quietly.

"Because I'm showing you all about the management of the men that it has taken me much study and patience to acquire."

"I'm sure it must have," said Stan eagerly.

"Well, then, am I not a donkey to teach you till you know as much as I do?"

"Certainly not," said Stan warmly.

"Then I think I am, my fine fellow; but we will not quarrel about it."

"No; for one can't," said Stan, laughing, "and I shall not."