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The Vast Abyss, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. Tom Blount did not make a very good tea that evening, for he was excited by thoughts of the coming watch. He was not in the least afraid, but his face felt flushed, and there was a curious tingling in the nerves which made him picture a scene in the garden, in which he was chasing Pete Warboys round and round, getting a cut at him with the stick from time to time, and at last making him turn at bay, when a desperate fight ensued. It seemed a long time too till half-past eight, and though he took up a book of natural history full of interest, it seemed to be as hard reading as _Tidd's Practice_, in Gray's Inn. "Seat uncomfortable, Tom?" said his uncle at last. "No, uncle," said the boy, colouring. "Why?" "Because you can't sit still. Oh, I understand. You are thinking of going out to watch." "Yes, uncle." "Humph! More than the pears are worth, Tom." "Do you think so, uncle?" "Decidedly. But there, the thief deserves to be caught--and thrashed; but don't be too hard upon him." Tom brightened up at this, and looked at the clock on the mantel-piece. "Why, it's stopped," he said. "Stopped? Nonsense," said Uncle Richard, looking at his watch. "But it must have stopped. I don't think it has moved lately." "The clock is going all right, Tom, but not so fast as your desires. There, try a little patience; and don't stop after ten. If the plunderer is not here by that time he will not come to-night--if he comes at all." "Very well, uncle," said Tom, and after another glance at the clock, which still did not seem to move, he settled down with his head resting upon his fists, to study the giraffe, of which there was a large engraving, with its hide looking like a piece of the map of the moon, the spots being remarkably similar to the craters and ring-plains upon the moon's surface, while the giraffe itself, with its long sprawling legs, would put him in mind of Pete Warboys. Then he read how it had been designed by nature for its peculiar life in the desert, and so that it could easily reach up and crop the leaves of trees from fifteen to twenty feet above the ground; but it did not, as he pictured it in his mind, seem to be picking leaves, but Marie Louise pears, while David was creeping up behind with his elastic hazel stick, and-- _Ting_. Half-past eight by the dining-room clock, and Tom sprang up. "Going, my boy?" "Yes, uncle, David will be waiting." Uncle Richard nodded, and taking his cap and the hazel stick he had brought in, the boy went out silently, to find that it was a very soft dark night--so dark, in fact, that as soon as he had stepped on to the lawn he walked into one of the great bushes of laurustinus, and backed out hurriedly to reconsider which was the way. Then he stepped gently forward over the soft damp grass of the lawn, with his eyes now growing more accustomed to the darkness. Directly after there was a low whistle heard. "Where are you, David?" "Here, sir. Come down between the raspberries." "Where are they, David? All right, I see now," whispered Tom, and he stepped as far as he could across the flower-bed, which ran down beside the kitchen-garden, and the next minute felt the gardener's hand stretched out to take his. "Got your stick, sir?" "Yes; all right. He hasn't come then yet." "Not yet, sir. Here you are; now you can kneel down alongside o' me. Mustn't be no more talking." Tom knelt on the soft horse-cloth, feeling his knees indent the soil beneath; and then with his head below the tops of the black-currant bushes, whose leaves gave out their peculiar medicinal smell, he found that though perfectly hidden he could dimly make out the top of the garden wall, where the pears hung thickly not many feet away, and the watchers were so situated that a spring would take them into the path, close to any marauder who might come. "One moment, David," whispered Tom, "and then I won't speak again. Which way do you think he'll come?" "Over the wall from the field, and then up along the bed, so as his feet arn't heard. If I hear anything I nips you in the leg. If you hear anything, you nips me." "Not too hard," said Tom, and the watch began. At first there was the rattle of a cart heard coming along the road, a long way off, and Tom knelt there sniffing the odour of the blackcurrants, and trying to calculate where the cart would be. But after a time that reached the village and passed on, and the tramp of the horse and the rattle of the wheels died out. Then he listened to the various sounds in the village--voices, the closing of doors, the rattle of shutters; and all at once the church clock began to strike, the nine thumps on the bell coming very slowly, and the last leaving a quivering, booming sound in the air which lasted for some time. After this all was very still, and it was quite a relief to hear the barking of a dog from some distance away, followed by the faintly-heard rattle of a chain drawn over the entrance of the kennel, when the barking ceased, and repeated directly after as the barking began again. Everything then was wonderfully still and dark, till a peculiar cry arose--a weird, strange cry, as of something in pain, which thrilled Tom's nerves. "Rabbit?" he whispered. "Hedgehog," grumbled David hoarsely; "don't talk." Silence again for a minute or two, and the peculiar sensation caused by the cry of the bristly animal still hung in Tom's nerves, when there was another noise which produced a thoroughly different effect, for a donkey from somewhere out on the common suddenly gave vent to its doleful extraordinary bray, ending in a most dismal squeaking yell, suggestive of all the wind being out of its organ. Tom smiled as he knelt there, wondering how Nature could have given an animal so strange a cry, as all was again still, till voices arose once more in the village; some one said "Good-night!" then a door banged, and, _pat pat_, he could hear faintly retiring steps, "Good-night" repeated, and then close to his elbow-- _Snor-rr-re_. "David!" he whispered, as he touched the gardener on the shoulder--"David!" "Arn't better taters grow'd, I say, and--Eh? Is he comed?" "No! Listen," said Tom, thinking it as well not to allude to his companion's lapse. "Oh ay, I'm a-listenin', sir, with all my might," whispered the gardener; "but I don't think it's him yet. Wait a bit, and we'll nab him if he don't mind." Silence again for quite ten minutes, and then David exclaimed-- "_Wuph_!" and lurched over sidewise up against his companion, but jerked himself up again, and said in a gruff whisper full of reproach, "Don't go to sleep, Master Tom." "No. All right, I'm awake," replied the boy, laughing to himself, and the watching went on again, the time passing very slowly, and the earth which had felt so soft beneath the knees gradually turning hard. There was not a sound to be heard now, till the heavy breathing on his left suggested that David was dozing off again, and set him thinking that one was enough to keep vigil, and that he could easily rouse his companion if the thief came. He felt a little vexed at first that David, who had been so eager to watch, should make such a lapse; but just in his most indignant moments, when he felt disposed to give a sudden lurch sidewise to knock the gardener over like a skittle, and paused, hesitating, he had an admonition, which showed him how weak human nature is at such times, in the shape of a sudden seizure. One moment he was wakeful and thinking, the next he was fast asleep, dreaming of being back at Gray's Inn-- soundly asleep, in fact. This did not last while a person could have counted ten. Then he was wide-awake again, ready to continue the watch, and let David rest. "It's rum though," he said to himself, as he crouched there, and now softly picked a leaf to nibble, and feel suggestions of taking a powder in a spoonful of black-currant jelly, so strong was the flavour in the leaf. "Very rum," he thought. "One's wide-awake, and the next moment fast asleep." He started then, for he fancied that he heard a sound, but though he listened attentively he could distinguish nothing; and the time went on, with David's breathing growing more deep and heavy; and upon feeling gently to his left, it was to find that the gardener was now right down with his elbows on the ground and his face upon his hands. "Any one might come and clear all the pears away if I were not here." But Tom felt very good-humoured over the business, as he thought of certain remarks he would be able to make to the gardener next day; and he was running over this, and wishing that some one would come to break the monotonous vigil, when there was the sound of a door opening up at the cottage, and then steps on the gravel path. Directly after Uncle Richard's voice was heard. "Now, Tom, my lad, just ten o'clock; give it up for to-night. Where are you?" Before Tom could make answer there was a quick movement on his left, an elbow was jerked into his ribs, and David exclaimed in a husky whisper-- "Now, my lad, wake up. Here's your uncle." "Yes, uncle, here!" cried Tom, as he clapped his hand to his side. "Well, have you got him?" "Nay, sir," said David; "nobody been here to-night, but I shall ketch him yet." "No, no, be off home to bed," said Uncle Richard. "Bime by, sir. I'll make it twelve first," said David. "No," cried Uncle Richard decisively. "It is not likely that any one will come now." "Then he'll be here before it's light," said David. "Perhaps, but we can't spare time for this night work. Home with you," cried Uncle Richard. "Tell you what then, sir, I'll go and lie down for an hour or two, and get here again before it's light." "Very well," said Uncle Richard. "I'll fasten the gate after you. Good-night. No: you run to the gate with him, Tom." "All right, uncle," cried the boy; and then, "Oh my! how stiff my knees are. How are yours, David?" he continued, as they walked to the gate. "Bit of a touch o' rheumatiz in 'em, sir. Ground's rayther damp. Good-night, sir. We'll have him yet." "Good-night," said Tom. "But I say, David, did you have a good nap?" "Good what, sir? Nap? Me have a nap? Why, you don't think as I went to sleep?" "No, I don't think so," cried Tom, laughing. "Don't you say that now, sir; don't you go and say such a word. Come, I do like that: me go to sleep? Why, sir, it was you, and you got dreaming as I slep'. I do like that." "All right, David. Good-night." Tom closed the gate, and ten minutes later he was in bed asleep. _ |
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