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diff --git a/21376.txt b/21376.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7422772 --- /dev/null +++ b/21376.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4860 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Will of the Mill, by George Manville Fenn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Will of the Mill + +Author: George Manville Fenn + +Release Date: May 8, 2007 [EBook #21376] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILL OF THE MILL *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +Will of the Mill, by George Manville Fenn. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +A Huguenot settlement in the Derbyshire dales, in the middle of England, +in the mid-nineteenth century. + +The Vicar's son, and the mill-owner's son are great friends. They +become friends with a visiting artist, who is lodging in the house of +one of the key-workers at the Mill, where they manufacture silk. The +artist falls down an old mine-shaft up in the hills, and the boys find +him. At home they are missed and a rescue party is sent out, and finds +them all. + +One day the mill mysteriously goes on fire, and, equally mysteriously, +the fire pump has been disabled. Just in time it is repaired by the man +the artist is staying with. The man's name was originally Boileau, but +like so many Huguenots, he has anglicised it to Drinkwater. + +Drinkwater goes mad, and has an obsessional hatred for the mill-owner. +It is thought possible that he actually set the fire having previously +disabled the fire-pump. + +But far worse is to befall. One night, in the autumn rains, the dam +that feeds the mill bursts its banks, and the village is flooded, with +much being washed away. Did Drinkwater do this too? There is a +dramatic finish to the book. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +WILL OF THE MILL, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +DOWN IN THE COUNTRY. + +"Here, I say, Josh, such a game!" + +"What is it?" + +The first speaker pointed down the gorge, tried to utter words, but +began to choke with laughter, pointed again, and then stood stamping his +feet, and wiping his eyes. + +"Well," cried the other, addressed as Josh, "what is it? Don't stand +pointing there like an old finger-post! I can't see anything." + +"It's--it's--it's--he--he--he!--Oh my!--Oh dear!" + +"Gahn! What an old silly you are! What's the game? Let's have a bit +of the fun." + +"The sun--sun--sun--" + +"Don't stand stuttering there in that stupid way." + +"I couldn't help it--there, I'm better now. I was coming along the top +walk, and there he was right down below, sitting under his old white +mushroom." + +"Well, I can't see anything to laugh at in that. He always is sitting +under his old white umbrella, painting, when he isn't throwing flies." + +"But he isn't painting. He's fast asleep; and I could almost hear him +snore." + +"Well, if you could hear him snore, you needn't make a hyena of +yourself. I don't see anything to laugh at in that." + +"No; you never see any fun in anything. Don't you see the sun's gone +right round, and he's quite in the shade?" + +"Well, suppose he is; where's the fun?" + +Will Willows wiped his eyes, and then, with a mirthful look, continued-- + +"Oh, the idea struck me as being comic--keeping a great umbrella up when +it wasn't wanted." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Josh, solemnly; "a shower might come down." + +"But, I say, Josh, that won't do. I've got such a rum idea." + +"Let's have it." + +"Come along, then." + +A few words were whispered, though there was not the slightest need, for +no one was in sight, and the rattle and whirr of machinery set in motion +by a huge water-wheel, whose splashings echoed from the vast, wall-like +sides of the lovely fern-hung glen in which it was placed, would have +drowned anything lower than a shout. + +Willows' silk-mill had ages ago ceased to be a blot in one of the +fairest valleys in beautiful Derbyshire, for it was time-stained with a +rich store of colours from Nature's palette; great cushions of green +velvet moss clung to the ancient stone-work, rich orange rosettes of +lichen dotted the ruddy tiles, huge ferns shot their glistening green +spears from every crack and chasm of the mighty walls of the deep glen; +and here and there, high overhead, silver birches hung their pensile +tassels, and scrub oaks thrust out their gnarled boughs from either +side, as if in friendly vegetable feeling to grasp hands over the +rushing, babbling stream; for Beldale--Belle Dale, before the dwellers +there cut it short--formed one long series of pictures such as painters +loved, so that they came regularly from the metropolis to settle down at +one of the picturesque cottages handy to their work, and at times dotted +the dale with their white umbrellas and so-called "traps." + +Nature was always the grandest of landscape gardeners, and here she may +be said to have excelled. Her work had been very simply done: some time +or other when the world was young the Great Gray Tor must have split in +two, forming one vast jagged gash hundreds of feet deep, whose walls so +nearly matched, that, if by some earthquake pressure force had been +applied, they would have fitted together, crushing in the verdant +growth, and the vast Tor would have been itself again. + +But, needless to say, this had never happened, and the lovely place, so +well named, became Belle Dale. + +High up in the Pennine Range the waters gathered in the great reservoirs +of bog and moss to form a stream, an infant river, which ran clear as +crystal, of a golden hue, right down the bottom of the gorge; here +trickling and singing musically, there spreading into a rocky pool, +plunging down into fall after fall, to gather again into black, dark +hollows as if to gain force for its next spring; and nowhere in England +did moss, fern, and water-plant grow to greater perfection than here, +watered as they were by the soft, fall-made mists. + +All through the summer the place was full of soft, dark nooks, and +golden hollows shaded by birch, through whose pensile twigs the sunshine +seemed to fall in showers of golden rain--cascades of light that plunged +into the transparent waters, and flashed from the scales of the +ruddy-spotted trout. + +No two boys ever had brighter homes, for their dwellings were here--Josh +Carlile's at the Vicarage, planted on a shelf where the arrow-spired +church looked down from near the head of the dale, where the first fall +plunged wildly full thirty feet beside the little, mossy, stone-walled +burial-ground. It was the home of mosses of every tint, from the +high-up, metallic green in the cracks among the stones, down to the soft +pink and cream patches of sphagnum, sometimes of their own vivid green +when charged with water ready to spurt out at the touch of a traveller's +foot. + +Will's home--nest, he called it--was far below, at the mill, that +pleasant home built first by one of his exiled ancestors, an old +Huguenot who fled from France full of fervour, for his religion's sake, +seeking refuge in old England, where, like many others, he found a safe +asylum to live in peace, and think. + +Old Guillaume Villars had "Monsieur" written before his name; but he was +one of France's fine old working gentlemen, a great silk-weaver, and his +first thought was to find a place where he and his following, a little +clan, could earn their bread as sturdy workers living by the work of +their hands; no beggars nor parasites they, but earnest toilers, the men +who introduced their industry every here and there. + +Some two hundred years ago, old Guillaume found Belle Dale ready with +its motive power to his hand. He wanted water for his silk-mill: there +it was, and, in a small way, he and his began their toil. + +Their nearest neighbours, few indeed, soon found them quiet, earnest, +religious men, and the welcome they had was warm. In their gratitude +they said, "France to us is dead; this in future is our home;" and, +though clinging to their language, they cast aside their fine patrician +names, making them English and homely like those of the dwellers near. +There was something almost grotesque at times in the changes that they +made, but they were not noticed here. The D'aubignes became Daubeneys, +or homely Dobbs; Chapuis, Shoppee; Jean Boileau, the great silk-weaver's +right hand, laughingly translated his name to Drinkwater; and, as the +time went on and generations passed, a descendant, "disagreeable +old Boil O!" as the two boys called him, was the odd man, +Jack-of-all-trades, and general mechanician at Beldale Mill, the servant +of old Guillaume Villars' son, many generations down--John Willows now, +father of Will of the Mill. + +A long piece of pedigree this, but we must say who's who, and what's +what, and, by the same rule, where's where; so here we have Beldale Mill +and the boys--just the place they loved and looked forward to reaching +again from the great school at Worksop, when the holidays came round. + +There was no such place for beauty, they felt sure; no such fishing +anywhere, they believed; in fact, everything the country boy could wish +for was to their hand. Collect?--I should think they did: eggs, from +those of the birds of prey to the tiny dot of the golden-crested wren; +butterflies and moths, from the Purple Emperors that were netted as they +hovered over the tops of the scrub oaks, and hawk-moths that darted +through the garden, the only level place about the bottom of the glen. +Fishing too--the artist who came down was only too glad to make them +friends, seeing how they knew the homes of the wily trout in the rocky +nooks below the great fall down by the sluice, where the waters rushed +from beneath the splashing wheel; and in the deep, deep depths of the +great dam where the waters were gathered as they came down from the +hills above, forming a vast reserve that never failed, but kept up the +rattle and clatter of looms from year to year, and formed a place where +the boys early learned to dive and swim, making their plunges from one +of the ferny shelves above. They were pretty high, some of these +shelves, and required a cool head and steady nerve to mount to them in +safety; but they had been improved in time. By a little coaxing, James +Drinkwater had been induced by the boys to climb with them on the one +side or the other of the gorge, armed with hammer and cold chisel, to +cut a step here, and knock out a stone there, so that most of the +shelves formed by the strata of limestone had been made accessible, and +glorious places to ascend to for those who loved to scramble. + +One of these shelves--the best of all, so Will said--was quite three +hundred feet above the dam. It was filled with bristling, gnarled oak, +and the walls beneath were draped with Nature's curtains, formed of the +long strands of small-leaved ivy; and there, if you liked, you could +look down, to the left, upon a lovely garden, the mossy roofs of mill +and house, all to the left; while to the right you looked up the zig-zag +gorge with its closed-in, often perpendicular walls, to see the glancing +waters of the stream, and far up, the great plunging fall, flashing with +light when the sun was overhead, deep in shadow as it passed onward +towards the west. + +Best of all, Will said, was lying on your breast looking right into the +dam, pitching down collected pebbles, which fell with a splashless +"chuck!" making "ducks' eggs," as they called it, and sending the white +Aylesburys scuttling out of the way. + +So much for the home of Will of the Mill. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +FISHING FOR FUN. + +It was up one of the shelves at the side of the great ravine that Will +silently hurried his comrade, the Vicar's son, to where they could look +down at the shelf below, a fairly open, verdant space, which offered +before it on the other side of the stream just such a rocky landscape +full of colour, light and shade, as artists love. + +Will held up his hand to ensure silence, and then, taking hold of a +projecting oak bough, peered down and signed to Josh to come and look. +There was not much to see; there was an easel and a small canvas +thereon, an open black japanned paint-box, a large wooden palette +blotched with many colours lying on a bed of fern, and whose thumb-hole +seemed to comically leer up at the boys like some great eye. Then there +was a pair of big, sturdy legs, upon which rested a great felt hat, +everything else being covered in by a great opened-out white umbrella, +perfectly useless then, for, as Will had said, all was now in the shade. + +Both boys had a good look down, drew back and gazed at each other with +questioning eyes, before Josh, whose white teeth were all on view, +stooped down and made a slight suggestion, a kind of pantomime, that he +should drag up a great buckler fern by the roots, and drop it plump on +the umbrella spike. + +Will's eyes flashed, and he puckered up his mouth and pouted his lips as +if in the act of emitting a great round No. + +Josh's eyes began to question, Will's teeth to glisten, as he thrust one +hand into his pocket and drew out a ring of tough water-cord. This he +pitched to his companion, with a sign that he should open it out, while +from another pocket he took out a small tin box, opened the lid, and +drew forth a little cork, into whose soft substance the barbs of a +large, bright blue, double eel-hook had been thrust. + +Busy-fingered Josh watched every movement, and it was his turn now to +shake his sides and indulge in a hearty, silent laugh, as he handed one +end of the unwound cord. + +This was deftly fitted on, and then, with every movement carefully +watched and enjoyed, Will silently crept into the gnarled oak, till he +was seated astride one of the horizontal projecting boughs, which began +to play elastically up and down, but made no sign of loosening the +parent stem, firmly anchored in the crevices of the limestone rock. + +It was only a few feet out, and then the boy was exactly over the +umbrella, some forty feet below. Then he began to fish, glancing from +time to time through the leaves, as he sat watching and rubbing his +hands. + +The first gentle cast was a failure; so was the second; but the third +time never fails. Will twisted the cord on his fingers, with the result +that the double hook turned right over, and the barbed points, in answer +to a gentle twitch, took hold of the white fabric, after passing right +through. + +Had there been earth below, in which the umbrella staff could have been +stuck, the manoeuvre must have failed; but the shelf was nearly all +rock, against some fragments of which the stick was propped. There was +no failure then. There came up a faint rasping sound as of wood over +stone, as the cord tightened, and then very slowly the umbrella began, +parachute-like, to rise in the air, higher and higher, as it was hauled +up hand over hand till the spike touched the lower twigs of the +horizontal oak bough. + +The next moment it was being retained in its novel place by Will making +fast the line, winding it in and out between two dead branches; and then +the boy quietly urged himself back to where Josh was chuckling softly as +he peered down. For he was having a good view of that which had been +hidden from Will, but which it was his turn now to share; and, judging +from his features, he did enjoy it much. + +But it was only the face and upper portion of a big, muscular, +tweed-clothed man, lying back with his hands under his head, eyes closed +fast, and mouth wide open, fast asleep. + +He was a sturdy-looking fellow, with a big brown beard and moustache; +but the boys did not stop to look, only began to retrace their steps so +as to get down upon a level with the shelf upon which the sleeper lay. + +"Capital!" whispered Josh. "What will he say?" + +"Don't know; don't care!" was the reply. + +"We'd better get away, hadn't we?" + +"No-o-oo! We must stop. I wouldn't be away on any account." + +"But then he'll know we did it, and get in a rage." + +"Pst! Be quiet." + +Will hurriedly led the way till they reached a clump of bushes where +they could squat down with a good view of the sleeper, who remained +perfectly still. + +Josh looked up at the umbrella, which looked as if the oak tree had +bloomed out into one huge white flower. Pointing up with one hand, he +covered his face with the other to stifle a laugh, and Will uttered a +warning. + +"Hist!" + +Just at that moment, heard above the murmur of the machinery in the +mill, and the wash and splash of the water, there arose the peculiar +strident buzz of a large bluebottle, busily on the lookout for a +suitable spot on which to lay eggs. + +Evidently it scented the artist, and began darting to and fro over his +open mouth. + +In an instant there was an angry ejaculation, one hand was set at +liberty, and several blows were struck at the obnoxious fly, which, +finding the place dangerous, darted off, and the artist went loudly to +sleep again. The boys exchanged glances, and Josh stole out one hand, +pulled a hart's-tongue fern up by the roots, and, with admirable aim, +pitched it so that it fell right on the sleeper's chest. + +The artist sat up suddenly, staring about him, while the boys crouched +perfectly motionless in their hiding-place. + +"What's that?" reached their ears, and they saw the sleeper feeling +about till his hand came in contact with the dry fern root. + +"Why, it must have been that," he muttered aloud, and he turned it over +and over. + +Josh uttered a faint sound as if he were about to burst out laughing. + +"It must have come from above, somewhere. If it was those boys--" The +artist looked up suspiciously as he spoke, and then, with a start, he +turned himself over on his hands and knees, to begin gazing wonderingly +up at the cotton blossom hanging from the tree. + +"Well," he said, "I never felt it; it must have been one of those gusts +which come down from the mountain." + +Will pressed his hands tightly over Josh's mouth, for he could feel him +heaving and swaying about as if he were about to explode. + +"Blows up this valley sometimes," continued the artist, "just like a +hurricane." + +"Pouf!" went Josh, for Will's efforts were all in vain. + +"Ah-h-ah! I knew it!" cried the artist, springing to his feet in a +rage. "You dogs! I see you!" + +It was the truth the next moment, for Josh rushed off to get into +safety, closely followed by Will, whilst their victim gave chase. + +Hunted creatures somehow in their hurry to escape pursuit, have a +natural inclination for taking the wrong route, the one which leads them +into danger when they are seeking to be safe. + +It was so here. Josh led, and Will naturally followed; but his comrade +might have gone round by the mill, run for the stepping-stones, where he +could have crossed and made for the rough hiding-places known to him on +the other side of the stream; or he might have dodged for the +garden-gate, darted through, and made for the zig-zag path leading to +the open moorland; but instead of this, he dashed down to the waterside, +ran along by it, and then took the ascending path right up the glen, +getting more and more out of breath, and with Will panting heavily close +behind. + +"Oh, you chucklehead!" cried the latter, huskily. "Why did you come +along here? You knew we couldn't go far." + +"It's all right. He won't follow. He'll be tired directly; he's so +fat." + +"I don't care," cried Will, stealing a look over his shoulder; "fat or +thin, he's coming along as hard as he can pelt." + +"Yes, but he's about done." + +"He isn't, I tell you; he's coming faster than you can go. Go along: +look sharp!" + +The boys ran on, Josh getting more and more breathless every moment, +while he began to lose heart as he heard the artist shouting to him to +stop. + +"Here, Will," he cried, "which way had I better go? Up the long crack, +or make for the fox's path?" + +"One's as bad as the other," cried Will. "Fox's path. Here, go on +faster. Let me lead; I know the way best. I never saw such an old +chucklehead. Why did you come this way?" + +He brushed by his companion as he spoke, his legs making a whishing +sound as he tore through clumps of fern and brake, running on and on +over the rapidly-rising ground till the path was at an end, and they +drew closer to a spot where the rocks closed in, forming a _cul de sac_, +unless they were willing to take a leap of some twenty feet into a deep +pool, or climb up the rocky wall just in front. + +"We can't jump," panted Will. + +"No," half whispered Josh. "Oh, what a mess we are in! You will have +to beg his pardon, Will." + +"You'll have to hold your tongue, or else we shall be caught. It's all +right; come on. I can get up here." + +The boy proved it by springing at the rocky face, catching a projecting +block and the tufts of heath and heather, kicking down earth and stone +as he rose, and scrambling up some fifteen feet before gaining a +resting-place, to pause for a moment to look down and see how his +companion was getting on. + +To his horror, Josh was almost at the bottom of the wall, and, scarlet +with fury and exertion, the artist panting heavily about two score yards +behind. + +"I've got you, you dogs! It's no use, I've got you!" + +"Oh!" groaned Will, ready to give up, wondering the while whether the +artist would thrash him with his elastic maul-stick. + +"No, he hasn't," cried Josh. "Run, run! Never mind me." + +"Shan't run," snarled Will, between his teeth. "Here, catch hold of my +hands." + +He lay down on his chest, hooking his feet in amongst the tough roots of +the heather. + +"Come on, I tell you! Catch hold." + +Obeying the stronger will, Josh made a desperate scramble, putting into +it all the strength he had left, and, regardless of the angry shouts of +the artist, he scrambled up sufficiently high for Will to grasp him by +the wrists. He could do no more, for his feet slipped from beneath him, +and he hung helpless, and at full length, completely crippling his +companion, who had the full weight dependent on his own failing +strength. + +Encouraged by this, the breathless artist made his final rush, and +succeeded in getting Josh by the ankles, holding on tightly in spite of +the boy's spasmodic movement, for as he felt the strong hands grasp his +legs, he uttered a yell, and began to perform motions like those of a +swimming frog. + +"Be quiet! Don't!" roared Will. "You'll have me down." + +"Let go, you dog!" shouted the artist. "I've got him now." + +"Let go yourself," cried Will, angrily. "Can't you see you are pulling +me down?" + +"Oh, yes, I can see. Let go yourself." + +"Shan't!" growled Will, through his set teeth. "Kick out, Josh, and +send him over." + +"I can't!" cried Josh. + +"He'd better! I'd break his neck." + +"Never mind what he says, Josh. Kick! Kick hard!" + +"Kick! I've got you tight. I could hold you for a wee--wee--" + +He was going to say "week," but Fate proved to him that this was a +slight exaggeration on his part, and instead of finishing the word week +he gave vent to a good loud "oh!" Tor the heather roots had suddenly +given way, and the three contending parties descended the sharp slope +with a sudden rush, to be brought up short amongst the stones that +accompanied them in a contending heap, forming a struggling mass for a +few moments, before the strongest gained the day, the artist rising +first, and seating himself in triumph upon the beaten lads, to begin +dragging out his handkerchief to mop his face, as he panted +breathlessly-- + +"There, I've got you now!" + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +THE ARTIST'S REVENGE. + +It was not manly on Josh's part, but he was weak, beaten, quite in +despair; the artist was a heavy man; and he had his companion Will upon +him as well. + +Consequently his tone was very pathetic, as he whimpered out-- + +"Here, you'd better let me alone!" + +"Likely!" said the artist. "I wanted a model, and now you have got to +sit for me." + +Will didn't whimper in the least. Pain and anger had put him in what +would have been a towering rage if he had not been prostrate on the +ground. + +"Here, you get up," he said, in a bull-dog tone. + +"By and by," cried the artist, coolly, as he began to recover his +breath. "I haven't made up my mind what I am going to do yet." + +"If you don't get up, I'll bite," cried Will. + +"You'd better! It's my turn now; I've got a long score to settle +against you two fellows, and I'm going to pay you out." + +As he spoke, the artist took out his pipe and tobacco pouch, and began +to fill up. + +"Get up!" shouted Will. "You hurt." + +"So do you," said the artist, "you nasty, bony, little wretch! You feel +as if you must be half-starved." + +As he uttered the words there was a loud scratching, and he struck a +match, lit his pipe, and began to smoke, while the boys, now feeling +themselves perfectly helpless, lay waiting to see what he would do next. + +"Ha!" said the artist. "I think that'll about do. You chaps are never +happy unless you are playing me some trick. I've put up with it for a +long time; but you know, young fellows, they say a worm will turn at +last. Well, I'm a worm, and I'm going to turn, and have my turn." + +"What are you going to do?" cried Will. + +"Want to know?" + +"Of course I do." + +"You'd better leave us alone," whimpered Josh. + +"Think so? Well, I will, after I've done. I'm going to wash some of +the mischief out of you. I shall just tie your hands together--yes, I +can easily do it now--and then drop you both into the pool." + +"What?" yelled Josh. "Why, you'd drown us!" + +"Hold your noise, Josh. He daren't." + +"Daren't! Why not? You are only boys, and all boys are a nuisance. +You've spoilt five of my canvases, and wasted a lot of my paint, making +scarecrows--at least, one of you did. But there, I won't be hard; I'll +only drop in the one who did it. Who was it? Was it you, Josh +Carlile?" + +Josh was silent. + +"Ah! I expect it was. It was he, wasn't it, Will?" + +Will was silent too. + +"Now I'm sure it was. Now then, Will; out with it. Tell me. It was +Josh Carlile, wasn't it?" + +"Shan't tell," cried Will; "and if you don't let us get up directly, +I'll poke holes through all your canvases, and pitch your paints into +the dam." + +The artist filled his mouth as full of tobacco smoke as he could, bent +down, and puffed it in a long stream full in the boy's face, making him +struggle afresh violently, but all in vain. + +"Well, you are a nice boy--very," said the artist. "Your father must be +very proud of you. It is quite time you were washed; you've a deal of +mischief in you that would be much better out. Now then, it was Josh +Carlile, wasn't it?" + +"I won't tell you. Pitch us in if you dare. Don't you mind, Josh. +He's only saying it to frighten us." + +"Yes; a very nice boy," said the artist, gravely; "but as I promised, I +won't be hard, for anyhow you've got some pluck. Look here, how did you +manage to get my gamp up yonder?" + +"Went up above and fished for it," said Will, coolly. + +"Fished for it? What with?" + +"Water-cord and an eel-hook," growled Will. "I say, Mr Manners, this +is bad manners, you know; you do hurt awfully." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the artist, boisterously. "Fished it up with an +eel-hook? Well, I suppose I am heavy. Look here, if I let you get up, +will you fish it down?" + +"Won't promise," growled Will. + +"All right; I believe you will," and he rolled off, leaving the boys at +liberty to spring up, Josh to begin rubbing himself all over, Will to +dash to the first big stone, catch it up, and make an offer as if to +throw it at the artist's head. + +The latter blew a cloud of smoke at the passionate-looking lad, and sat +looking him full in the face. + +"All right," he said, coolly; "chuck!" + +Will raised the stone as high as he could, and hurled it with all his +might high in the air so that it should fall with a heavy splash into +the pool below. + +"Ha!" cried the artist. "Feel better now?" + +"Yes," said Will, brushing himself down. "But I say, Mr Manners, you +are a jolly weight." + +"Yes, I suppose I am. I say, I'm going to have a try after the trout +to-night. Where had I better go?" + +"Likely I'm going to tell you after serving me like this!" + +"Of course it is. I was going to ask you to come." + +"Will you ask me, if I do?" + +"Likely I'm going to ask you after serving my gamp like that!" + +"Oh, I'll soon get that down," replied Will, cheerily. "Here! you go, +Josh. I put it up. I'm tired now; I had all his weight on me." + +"Well, but I had all his weight and yours too, and I'm sore all over." + +"You can't be," said Will. "You must be sore all under, for you were at +the bottom." + +"Oh, but I can't, Will. I feel as if I was tired out." + +"All right," cried Will, "I'll go;" and, springing up, he scampered down +to the level where the easel and canvas still stood, and climbed up as +the others followed more slowly; and a few minutes later the umbrella +came parachute-like down, to be folded up by its owner. Will shouldered +the easel, Josh tucked the canvas under his arm, and they all walked +up-stream together as if nothing had happened, towards Drinkwater's +attractive little cottage, which formed the temporary home of the lover +of rustic art, and discoursing the while about the red-spotted beauties +whose haunts Will was to point out that evening after tea. + +The cottage with its pretty garden was reached, and the boys handed +their loads to the owner. + +"What time will you be here?" he said. + +"We ought to start at five," replied Will, "but we can't get here till +nearly six, because Josh is going to have tea with me." + +"Look here, both of you come up and have tea with me. Mrs Drinkwater +shall put two extra cups." + +"Mean it?" cried Will. + +"Mean it?" said the bluff artist. "Why, of course!" + +The next minute the boys were walking down together towards the mill. + +"Say, Josh," said Will, thoughtfully, "he isn't such a bad fellow, after +all." + +"No," said josh, dubiously, "but he's an awful weight." + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +LOST ON THE TOR. + +"Well, go and ask Mr Manners to come up, then," said Mr Willows, one +morning a few days later, as Will and Josh stood waiting; "that is," he +went on, "if you really think that he would like to come. I should be +very pleased to see him. But don't worry the man." + +"Oh, I'm sure he would, father," said Will; "wouldn't he, Josh?" + +"Yes," said Josh, quickly. "I know he's been wanting to see the place." + +"He's thrown out hints," said Will. + +"Oh, has he?" said the mill-owner, with a smile. "Thrown out hints, eh? +Well, I shall be delighted to see him. But I thought you two chaps +were not on very good terms with him." + +"Oh yes, father; it's all right now. Of course we thought that he was +only a painter, but he is really a splendid chap. Come on, Josh; we'll +get him to come up now." + +"Only a painter," said Mr Willows, with a laugh, as he looked after +them. + +The two lads started for the cottage where the artist, who was making +picture after picture of the neighbourhood, took his meals--when, that +is, he did not picnic in the open, which was fairly frequently--and +where he slept--and one could sleep in that crisp mountain air. + +"No, my dears," said Mrs Drinkwater, who had come down to the little +white gate to speak to them, "Mr Manners is out, I am very sorry." + +"Oh!" said Will. + +"Where's he gone?" asked Josh. + +"He went off very early this morning, sir," said the woman. "He told me +to cut him some sandwiches. He said that I would be away all day, as he +was going as far as the Tor." + +"And never asked us!" cried Josh. "What a jolly shame!" + +"Humph! It is a pity," said Will, and he turned away. "I say, why +shouldn't we go after him?" + +"Perhaps he doesn't want us." + +"Nonsense!" said Will. + +"Then let's go. I'm willing, only I thought you would say that it was +too far." + +"It's you that would say that." + +"Bosh!" said Josh. + +"Go on. Be funny. Bosh, Josh! That's a joke, I suppose." + +"Oh, all right; I'm ready," said Josh. "But it is no end of a long +way." + +"Why, we've been there lots of times before now." + +"Yes, but we started early in the morning." + +"It doesn't matter," said Will. "I have been wanting to go there again +for a long time." + +The Great Gray Tor was surrounded by mists which were wreathed round it +half-way up, while the dark summit peering out above the vapour looked +like some vast head emerging from a miniature sea. + +"It's glorious," said Will, as the two boys got away into the wild +rugged country, clothed here and there with marshes where numbers of +flowers were growing luxuriantly, their blooms making bright splashes of +colour. "Fancy his wanting to paint all this, though!" + +"Oh, I believe he would paint anything." + +"Well, he will soon have finished everything here. He's done the mill, +and the sunsets, and old Drinkwater's cottage. There will be nothing +left soon for him to daub." + +"Oh, yes; there will," said Josh, knowingly, as they trudged on. "I +heard my father talking about it. He said these artist chaps had a new +way of looking at everything each day of their lives. So that means +that he will want to paint everything all over again. Glad I am not an +artist. I don't like doing things over again." + +"Ho!" said Will. "I don't care." + +"No more do I," said Josh, "for I'm not an artist and I am not going to +be one. But what are you staring at?" + +"I've lost the way," said Will, at last. + +"Ditto," said Josh. "Have you really? Shout. Mr Manners might hear." + +"You shout." + +Josh did so. + +"Bah! Nobody could hear that." + +Josh shouted once more. + +"Shout again," said Will. + +"No, you have a try. I shall be hoarse." + +"All right then.--Mr Manners--ahoy!" + +"He won't hear the Mister," said Josh, scornfully. + +"No, of course not," said Will. "Manners--ahoy!" + +"Ahoy!" came in a faint whisper. + +"It's an echo," said Josh. + +"Well, I know that, stupid." + +"He may have come round another way," hazarded Josh. + +"May anything," said Will. "But I don't believe there is another way.-- +Mr Manners!--Ahoy!" he shouted. + +"Ahoy-oy?" came back faintly again. + +"There!" + +"It is only the echo. Seems too foolish to lose your way in a place +like this." + +"Good as anywhere else," said Josh, cheerily. "But there's the Tor, and +there's Mr Manners." + +"Where is he?" said Will, sharply. + +"Why, at the Tor." + +"Ugh! There, come on. None of your jokes." + +"Well, we can't be far wrong," said Josh. + +"We might be miles out," said Will; "and it will be dark soon. We were +precious stupids to come all this way on the bare chance of meeting him. +He may have gone off home." + +"Then we should have been sure to meet him." + +"Why?" said Will. + +"Because he would have come this way. It's the only safe one, on +account of the bogs. Somewhere near here a man and a horse were +swallowed up once." + +"Don't believe it," said Will. + +"You ask father." + +It was steady uphill work now; then real climbing; here and there their +way was checked by a miniature heather-crowned crater, down which they +peered, to see stony ledges and then a sheer fall. + +"He is only an ignorant Londoner after all," said Will, thoughtfully, as +they scrambled on. "He might have let himself fall down one of those +places." + +"Any one might do that," said Josh. "Hark! What's that?" + +"Didn't hear anything," said Will. + +"That's because you don't listen. Now!" said Josh, sharply. + +Will uttered a cry. + +"Yes," he said, excitedly. + +"You heard it?" + +"Yes, yes!" + +There was a groan. + +"There!" cried Will. "It's Mr Manners, and something's happened to +him.--Manners!--Ahoy!" + +No answer came. + +"Wouldn't be having a game with us, would he?" + +"No," said Josh. "I don't think he'd do that." + +"Then let's go on a bit farther." + +The late afternoon sun lit up the valley away to the left, which the Tor +had hitherto concealed from their view. They scrambled on in the heat +over the rough stone escarpments and amidst the gorse. + +"Now, let's listen again," said Will. + +They halted, and Josh wiped his streaming face. + +"Shout again," he said huskily. + +"Shall I?" + +"Yes." + +"Manners!--Ahoy!" shouted Will. + +There was no response. + +"Perhaps it wasn't he," said Josh. + +"Perhaps he's so busy painting something or another that he hasn't been +able to hear." + +"Oh, perhaps anything," said Will. "Come on, I am certain now. It's +that big cleft where we found the stonechats. He will have fallen down +there, paint and all." + +"Help!" came faintly now. "Help--help!" + +"Hear that?" panted Josh, looking scared, and then radiant. + +"Yes," said Will; "I hear. He's in danger." And the two lads tore on +as fast as they could up the steep slippery incline. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +THE SEARCH PARTY. + +"Master Will has not been back, sir," said the servant, when Mr Willows +inquired towards evening as to the whereabouts of his son. + +"But," he said to himself, "he was going to fetch that artist. Oh, he +will be all right." + +Yet as evening wore on the mill-owner began to feel anxious, and his +anxiety caused him to take his hat and stick and walk up to the +Vicarage. + +"Will?" said the Vicar, "No. Isn't he at the mill?" + +"No--nor Josh." + +"Ah!" said the Vicar. "I have not seen either of them all day." + +"Humph! They ought to be able to take care of themselves by this time. +But I shall go on to Drinkwater's cottage and inquire." + +"I'll come with you," said the Vicar, eagerly, and he took his hat off +its peg in the square-shaped wainscotted hall. "Our two lads," he said, +as they walked quickly along the road to the cottage, "are so much +together that I always feel that when Josh is out he is sure to be at +the mill. That is why I never feel particularly surprised when he does +not come back to meals." + +"Just so; but they are so ready to be up to mischief that I am beginning +to be afraid. Ah! at last," continued Mr Willows, with a sigh, as they +reached the cottage, where lights shone already through the +white-curtained windows. + +He passed through the nicely kept garden and knocked at the door, which +was opened by Mrs Drinkwater, who curtseyed when she saw who her +visitors were. + +"Have you seen my son, Mrs Drinkwater?" asked Mr Willows. "Did he +come here to-day to see Mr Manners?" + +"Yes, sir; this morning," said the woman, making way for the two +visitors to enter the neatly furnished sitting-room, where supper was on +the way. + +"Oh! this morning? But I am disturbing you at supper. Evening, James," +he said, as he and his companion entered the room, to see Drinkwater, +who was just finishing his meal. + +"Good-evening, sir. Disturbing me? No matter, master," said the man, +rising and standing facing the newcomers, with one hand on the table. +"So Master Will was here this morning, wife?" + +"Yes, yes," cried the woman; "as I say. He and Mr Josh came down +together. They were looking for Mr Manners then, and seemed +disappointed-like that he was out." + +"Of course," said the mill-owner; "of course. They would be. They +wanted the artist to come to the mill. Well, well! And afterwards what +happened?" + +"Well, sir, Mr Manners had gone, and that's all I know, sir. The two +young gentlemen went away together." + +"They went to look for him, naturally. But where had he gone?" + +"He was going to the Tor, sir. He went away early, with his canvas and +things, to paint a picture." + +"You hear, Carlile? Something must have happened, or they would have +been back by now. We must go. Look here, Drinkwater, you will come +with us?" + +"Yes, master," said the man, with surly readiness. + +"It may be some accident," continued Mr Willows. + +"Oh, I pray not, sir," said the woman. "Those two dear lads, and Mr +Manners, who is always so cheerful!" + +"Come then," cried Mr Willows. "What are you looking for?" + +"Rope, sir," said the man, gruffly. "It may be useful--and a lantern. +We shall want it at least;" and as he spoke the words he pulled out of +the chest over which he had been stooping a coil of hempen rope. He +then took a little lantern from a ledge and lit it. "Now I am ready, +master." + +"You are an excellent fellow, Drinkwater," said the mill-owner, clapping +his hand on the other's shoulder, as they stepped out. + +"Nay, nay, master," said the man. "I have the bad fits on me sometimes, +and bad they are." + +"Bad fits?" said Mr Willows, in a puzzled way. "What do you mean?" + +The man nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "yes. That's what they are. I can't help them, +master." + +"Oh," said the mill-owner; "you must try." + +The bright light from the cottage door, at which the woman stood +watching them, streamed out and lit up their path for a few steps. Then +they were in the pitch darkness, and in danger of completely losing +their way, for it was rough broken country that lay between the little +settlement and the Tor. In that district villages were few and far +between, and beyond Beldale there was uncultivated land for many miles. + +"They would be sure to come back this way, wouldn't they?" asked Mr +Willows. "Don't you think so, James?" + +"Pretty nigh certain, master," was the response, and the man held the +lantern aloft and glanced round. "It's a rough enough way and no +mistake, if you can call it a way; but it's the only one I knows of. +But don't you fret, sir. Master Will can take care of himself, and as +for Mr Manners, he's big enough, while Master Josh is a handy one too, +They are sure to be all right, sir, take my word for it." + +"Yes," said Mr Willows; "but there are many dangerous places there out +in the wilds, and boys are over-venturesome." + +"Humph! The swamp? Ay," said the man, thoughtfully. "Yes, to be sure. +But we shall find them, never fear." + +The Great Tor looked quite near at times, in the daylight, but that was +merely base deception on the part of the atmosphere, for it was quite a +long way, while now, at night, it was not to be seen at all. It was on +the tip of John Willows' tongue several times to ask Drinkwater if he +were sure, but he reflected what would be the use? For the man was +plodding steadily on, and the tiny rays of his lantern fell on the rough +grass and stones. Evidently he knew quite well what he was about, for +there was a certainty in his movements--never any hesitation. + +"Suppose," said the Vicar, "that they have gone back home another way." + +"Aren't no use supposing, sir. I don't think as they have," said the +man, quietly. "This 'ere's the only safe way through the bog." + +"Very well," said Mr Willows, shortly. "We must just press on. I wish +Mr Manners wouldn't lead our lads so far afield." + +"Yet, if they followed him--" said the Vicar. + +"Ah, yes, to be sure. He strikes one as being a good reliable man. +Ah!" And he gave a snatch at the Vicar's arm. "I was nearly down that +time. Terribly rough." + +"Terribly," was the reply. "Drinkwater!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Let us keep one each side of you. It is so dark, and the lantern will +help us better that way." + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +THE ARTIST'S PLIGHT. + +The two boys were at the edge of the fissure at length, and leaned over +to peer down through the bracken and heather which grew on the sides of +the rough descent. + +"Help!" came up faintly. + +"Mr Manners! where are you? It's all right. We're here." + +"Thank Heaven! That you, boys? Ah! I am on a shelf down here--been +here for hours--a long way down; and I have sprained something. Can you +get help?" + +"Well, we are here," said Will, "and I am coming down." + +"So am I," said Josh. + +"No, no. It is too dangerous," came up. + +"Is it?" said Will. "You lie quiet, Mr Manners. We are coming. +There," he continued to Josh, "take hold of the bracken, and keep your +big boots out of my face, can't you?" For he was already on his way +down. + +"Same size as yours," said Josh. "I say, it's precious deep! Coming, +Mr Manners--coming!" + +"Be careful," came faintly. + +"Oh, yes; we will be careful," said Will. "Ah! I say, Josh, look out +there. I slipped. It's sheer down. Oh, now I see. Hallo, Mr +Manners! Come on, Josh. 'Tisn't as dark as I thought. Here we are;" +and the boy slipped the rest of the way down, to a fairly wide ledge, on +which the artist lay in rather an awkward position. + +"Mr Manners, are you much hurt?" asked Will, as he dropped down softly +by the artist's side. + +"Yes, my boy? I am rather badly. But take care. Take care, Josh!" + +"Oh, we are all right, sir. What's the matter?" + +"I fell while trying to get to that peak there for a better view." + +"But where does it hurt?" said Will. + +"I've twisted my arm," said the artist, "and injured my ankle to boot. +That's a joke. Look here, Will; you could help me to get my arm free. +It's--it's painful; that's what it is." + +"Wait a minute," said Will; and he altered his position on the ledge, +shifting himself along so as to be nearer to where the artist lay. +"Now," he said. "Ah!" + +"Yes, I am heavy, am I not?" said the artist, with a sort of chuckle. +"Oh!" he continued, with a groan. "I don't think it's possible for you +to do it." + +"I think it is," said Will. "You, Josh--Steady!--Yes, that's right; get +down on his other side. Now, Mr Manners, I will help to pull you over, +and Josh shall push. Now--are you ready?" + +"Ready! Ay, ready!" said the artist, with a ghastly attempt at a smile. + +"Now then, Josh!" + +By an united effort the position of the artist was altered, and the +victim to a nasty fall gave a sigh as he folded his injured left arm +across his chest. + +"I--I--Brave boys! Good lads! I--" + +"Oh, that's all right, sir," said Will. "I say, Josh!" + +"Well?" + +"He's fainted!" + +"Phew!" whistled Josh. "Then he must be very bad." + +"I'm afraid he is." + +"Couldn't we ease him up a bit?" + +"No. What I want to know is what we have got to do." + +"We have just got to hold on," said Josh, doggedly. "That's what we've +got to do." + +"No. You run back, I tell you," gasped Will. "Fetch help." + +"Run back!" said Josh, scornfully. "Six miles! I don't believe I could +find the way; and anyhow I am not going to leave you two here." + +"But I can hold him fast; and how are we to get help if you don't? I +shall be here to see him." + +"So shall I," said Josh. + +"No, I tell you. Climb up and get back home. How are they to know?" + +"I don't know," said Josh. "Did they know where we were coming?" + +"No. How could they?" + +"Then it's just wait till morning. Heigh-ho!" + +"But Mrs Drinkwater--" + +"Of course!" cried Josh. "What a stupid I was! Mrs Drinkwater knew." + +"She mightn't remember," said Will. + +"Of course she would. Didn't she tell us where he had gone?" + +"Yes," answered Will; "but--there, Josh, you had better be off." + +"No. Why don't you go?" + +"What, and leave you here?" + +"There!" said Josh. "It's just the same. But what's that?" + +"I didn't hear anything." + +"I did--a call. There, can't you hear it now?" + +"It's a bird," said Will, as they both listened. "That's all. But +there, if you won't go, I tell you what you might do--clamber up and +hoist a signal." + +"What signal?" + +"Your handkerchief," said Will. + +"Would it do any good?" asked Josh. "It's a precious long way up. How +is he?" + +Will leaned over the unconscious man. + +"Asleep, I think," he said quietly. "How dark it's getting. Look up +there! Why, the sky's nearly black." + +"I think I will climb up and shout," said Josh. "They are sure to come +and look for us, and that will help them." + +"Right," said Will. "But mind how you go!" + +"Oh, yes; I'll be careful," said Josh, and he began slowly to climb. +"It's much easier here," he said breathlessly. + +Will listened to his scrambling. + +"How are you getting on?" he asked. + +"Capitally. I'm near the top." + +A few more minutes elapsed, and then a voice came down-- + +"I'm up." + +"Right." + +"Will!" + +"Yes." + +"I've fastened my handkerchief to the stump of a bush." + +"That's right." + +"I say!" + +"Well?" + +"How shall we get Mr Manners up when they do come?" + +"Push and pull," said Will. + +"But he's awfully heavy." + +"Oh, I know; but we shall manage. I say, I wonder where his paint-box +and things are. Perhaps they all went down with him." + +"Not they," said Josh, as his foot kicked against something. "They are +all up here. I've got them. Isn't he awake yet?" + +"No--yes--I say, Mr Manners, are you better?" + +"I--Where am I?--Oh, yes, I remember. Better? I think so. What are +you doing here?" + +"Came to find you, and--" + +From above there came a shout. + +"Hallo!" said Will. "That's Josh found then." + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +THE RESCUE. + +"That you, boys?" came from somewhere far above, out of the darkness, +and it was Josh who answered, while Will said in a low tone: + +"I say, Mr Manners, I am glad. Now don't you think you could get up? +It's father and Mr Carlile." + +The artist made a brave attempt. + +"I could stand on one leg," he said, "but that's about all I'm good for. +My ankle gives way at once." + +"Then we must just wait," said Will. "That's the only thing to do. It +was my father who called. Say, Josh!" + +"Hallo!" + +"That you, my boy?" came from above. + +"Yes, father." + +"I must sit down again," said the artist, in a low tone, for he had been +standing supporting himself against the wall of the ledge. + +"No, sir," said Drinkwater, as he flashed his lantern round. "If Mr +Manners has hurt himself and can't walk, as Mr Josh says he has, we +shan't be able to haul him up. The rope I brought wouldn't do it; and +besides, we should have no purchase here." + +"Then what are we to do?" said Mr Willows, impatiently. "Tell me what +you advise." + +"There's another way down," said the man, sturdily. "We couldn't pull +him up there. I know the place he's on. We can get to it if we go +along here; there's a zig-zag path." + +"Capital!" said the mill-owner. "Come along." + +The path the man referred to was a roundabout one, but it led them to +the place where the artist lay. + +"It's a good job we came, sir," said Mr Willows. "Not a nice place to +spend the night in. You fell down here?" + +"Yes," said the artist; "unfortunately." + +"Humph!" said the mill-owner. "Now we have got to get you up." + +"What a pity he's such a heavy-weight," said Will to Josh, in a whisper. + +"Drinkwater has found a special way down here. You will have to lean on +two of us and manage it somehow. Mr Carlile, take the lantern, will +you, please? Now, Drinkwater, get hold of Mr Manners' other arm." + +"Right, master." + +"Do you think you can do it?" said Mr Willows. + +"Don't know," said the artist; "but I will try." + +"That's the style," said the mill-owner. "There, lean heavily on me. +You, Drinkwater, get firm hold of his other arm. Slowly does it!" And +the little procession started. + +"It took me a long while to get here," said the artist, "but as for +getting back--" + +"Don't you worry about that," said the Vicar. "We shall manage all +right, never fear." + +It was after about an hour that the Vicar went up to Mr Willows. + +"Now let me have a turn, Drinkwater," he said. + +"We are getting along so well that I think we had better not change," +said the mill-owner. + +Mr Carlile nodded. + +"Remember," he said, "that I am ready to act as relief directly I am +needed." + +"I'll remember that," said Mr Willows. "Here, Will, what are you +doing?" + +"Carrying Mr Manners' tackle," said the lad. + +"Oh! then you, Josh. Take the lantern for a bit." + +"Not at all," said the Vicar, stoutly. "That little bit of duty I do +cling to, and I am not going to surrender the light to any one. How are +you feeling, Mr Manners?" + +"Fairly, thank you," was the response; "but I am thankful that the +journey is not twice as far." + +"Well, yes," said Mr Willows, dryly. "We can do with it as short as it +is. Have a rest now, sir?" + +"No, no," said the artist; "not for a bit." + +It was a slow march home indeed, and later frequent rests had to be +indulged in. + +"I say," said Will to Josh, "it's a pretty holiday, isn't it! Here, you +take these things. Catch hold." + +"All right." + +The march was resumed. + +"Drinkwater is a trump," said Will at last. + +"Rather a surly one," said Josh. "Why can't he be amiable?" + +"I don't know." + +"Whatever he says has got a sort of a sting in it." + +"Hush! He'll hear." + +"I wish he had." + +"Look here, my man," said Mr Carlile at last, "have a rest now for a +bit. I will go on the other side of Mr Manners." + +"No, no, sir; I can manage, thank ye," said Drinkwater. "I am a strong +one, you know, and it comes easy to such as me." + +"So I see. But even the strong need rest, you know." + +The man shook his head. + +"I don't need no rest," he said. "I have worked hard all my life, and +it won't hurt me to do a bit more." + +"Hark at that," said Josh. "Old grumpus!" + +"Better leave him alone," said Willows. "He will have his own way. +Don't interfere." + +"Oh, very well," said the Vicar. "Want a rest, Mr Manners?" + +"No, no. We had better get on. What time is it?" + +"Midnight--just after," said the mill-owner. + +"Your wife will be anxious about you, Drinkwater," said the artist. + +"Not she," was the response. "My wife knows me." + +"Old stupid!" said Will. "As if we didn't know that! How could she +help knowing him when she's his wife?" + +"I wonder your father puts up with him as he does," said Josh. + +"Yes; I often wonder that," said Will. "But then old Boil O does know +such a lot. Look at to-night, for instance. Where should we have been +without him?" + +"That's why he thinks he can be disagreeable, I suppose," said Josh. + +The cottage was reached at last, and evidently Mrs Drinkwater had been +waiting anxiously all the time. She came hurriedly down the garden path +to meet the travellers. + +"Oh, Mr Manners," she said, "you have hurt, yourself!" + +"A trifle," he answered. "But you will know how to treat an injured +ankle, Mrs Drinkwater." + +"I think I do, sir," said the woman, brightly, as she preceded the +little party into the cottage, and hastily put a cushion in the dark +brown Windsor chair which stood sentry-like by the fire. + +Into this the artist was helped. + +"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, with a smile, as he gazed at his +rescuers. "Thank you, boys, and you, Drinkwater--very sincerely, one +and all. I am grateful. Astonishing how helpless an accident like this +makes a man. Now with a cold compress and a rest I ought soon to be all +right again." + +"I trust so," Mr Willows, with a smile, looking down at him; "only +don't be in too much of a hurry to think you are well. It is a case for +one remedy, and that is r-e-s-t. How are you going to get to bed? +Shall I remain and assist?" + +"It's only up two stairs, sir," said Mrs Drinkwater, "and my man will +help." + +"Of course he will," said the artist. "I shall be quite all right. +Good-night, friends, and a thousand thanks. One day may I be able to do +as much for you." + +"I'll take good care you don't," said Willows, with a laugh; and then as +they started for home he clapped Will on the shoulder. "Your artist's a +splendid fellow," he said. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +DRINKWATER'S MANNERS. + +"Soon be able to walk all right; eh. Mr Manners?" asked Will, who with +Josh had come up to the cottage. + +"Soon, my lad? Yes, I think so," said the artist, cheerily. "I was +talking to Drinkwater here about painting his portrait; but he won't +hear a word of it. But I have got him in my mind's eye all the same, +and I shall paint him whether he likes it or not," continued Mr +Manners, as he looked laughingly at the boys, and then went on dipping +his brush in the colours on the palette, rubbing it round and twiddling +it in the pigment, while his landlord, pipe in mouth, gazed at him +rather surlily. "Wouldn't he make a fine picture? Eh?" And the artist +leaned back in his chair and smiled good-humouredly first at Drinkwater +and then at the boys, ending by shaking his head at his injured ankle, +which was resting on another chair placed nearly in front of him. + +"I don't want my portrait painted, I tell ye," said the man, gruffly. + +"Hark at him!" said Manners. "I should have thought he would be +pleased." + +"What's the matter, Boil O?" asked Will. "Did you get out of bed the +wrong way this morning?" + +"No, sir," said the man, shortly. + +"Oh," said Will. + +"Leave the sulky bear alone," put in Josh. + +"Be quiet," said Will to his companion. "I say, Boil O, old chap, when +are you going to make me that fishing-rod you promised?" + +"Oh, I have no time to make fishing-rods for boys," said the man. "I +have to work." + +"Look at him. How busy he is!" cried Will, with mock seriousness, while +the artist made a vermilion smudge on his canvas as the ground plan of a +sunset. + +"No, sir, no time. Your father keeps me too busy." + +"Shame," said Will. "Why, my father was saying only the other day that +you had done so much good work for him all your life, that he would be +very pleased to see you take things a bit easier now; so there." + +"'Tain't true," said the man. + +"What!" cried Will, his face growing very red. "Don't you believe what +I say?" + +"Not that exactly; but you don't know all I've done--no more than Mr +Willows does, nor Mr Manners." + +"Oh, doesn't he?" said Will. + +"I know you to be a very faithful and good friend, Drinkwater," said the +artist, making a dab, and then leaning back in his chair with his head +on one side to judge the effect. + +"Look at him," said Will, in a whisper, to Josh. "He always wags his +head like that when he's at work painting. What does he do it for?" + +"Oh, I heard what you said," continued the artist. "I do it because I +can judge distance better that way. But as I was saying, Drinkwater +here is a very good friend indeed, and if it had not been for his +kindness, my little accident would have been twice as annoying as it is. +Thanks to his help, I am able to go out painting and fishing all the +same, and I am very grateful to him." + +"I don't want that, master," said the man. "I don't want thanks;" and +he slouched off, leaving the boys and the artist to continue the +conversation. + +"Surly old toad!" said Will. "What's wrong with him?" + +"Something must have put him out," said the artist. + +"But he's always getting into his nasty tempers." + +"Ah, well, he'll soon come round. He has been most thoughtful for me." + +"But I say, Mr Manners," said Josh, "you will be able to come fishing +to-night, won't you?" + +"Don't know," said the artist. + +"Oh, yes," cried Will. "We will look after you; won't we, Josh?" + +"Of course." + +"All right, I'll come; but in a few days, you know, I shall be quite all +right again." + +"Hooray!" cried Will. "But I was forgetting: father sent me up here +with his compliments, and he hopes you are going on A1." + +"So did mine," said Josh. + +"I am very grateful to Mr Willows and Mr Carlile," said the artist. +"Very kind of them to have thought of me." + +Mr Manners' prophecy was quite right. In a few days practically all +trace of his unfortunate mishap on the Tor had vanished, and there +followed not merely one fishing trip, but several, for the artist's +chief recreation was throwing a fly, and one evening as he whipped the +stream he turned quickly to the boys, who were a few yards away. + +"See that?" he said. + +"No," said Will. "Was it a bite?" + +"No, no,--amidst those trees,--Drinkwater." + +"Oh," said Josh. "What about him?" + +"I thought he wanted to speak to me," said the artist. "It looked as +though he crept away because he saw you." + +"Glad he's gone," said Will. "I don't want him. He's too plaguey +disagreeable, isn't he, Josh?" + +"Yes," said the lad addressed. + +"No, no," said the artist. "I am afraid something's wrong. He was too +good over my accident for me to run him down." + +"Don't run him down then," said Will; "but he is getting to be an old +curmudgeon all the same." + +"He has been with your father a long time." + +"What, old Boil O?" said Will, who had begun to draw in. "Oh, yes, +years and years. He used to be a very good sort of a chap, but of late +something's made him as cross as a bear." + +"Perhaps he doesn't like you calling him Boil O," said the artist, +taking out his book and carefully selecting a fresh fly, fastening the +other in his hat. + +"Oh, he doesn't mind that," said Will. "Besides, it's his name, or was +his name before it was changed to Drinkwater." + +"I wish I could find out what has upset him," said the artist. + +"It's nonsense, Mr Manners," said Will. "Old Boil O was always like +that at times, and he's as close as--as anything. He gets some pepper +in him somehow. But he will come round. He always does. It's just his +way. He's a strange chap. Fancy his creeping about after you like +that." + +"I take it as a compliment," said the artist, smiling. "Drinkwater and +I are very good friends." + +"Well, my father likes him," said Will, "and thinks he's a very good +workman, but his rough manners--" + +"You are not speaking of me, I hope?" said the artist. + +"Speaking of you! No. But my father says that he often feels irritated +by him." + +"Ah!" said the artist, reflectively. "He never shows them to me when we +have a pipe together at night. He is a very interesting character, +Will. Of course, as somebody said, `manners makyth man--'" + +"Oh," said Will, "I thought Manners made pictures." + +"No wonder you lost that fish," said the artist, dryly, "if you waste +your time making bad jokes." + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +A QUEER CHARACTER. + +"Old Boil O's in a regular rage," said Josh, laughing. + +"Well, but he hasn't been talking to you about it, has he?" replied +Will. + +"Yes; said your father must be getting off his head to go and buy up +such a miserable ramshackle piece of rubbish. It was only fit to knock +to pieces and sell for old copper." + +"Old Drinkwater had better keep his tongue quiet," said Will, shortly, +"or he'll make my father so much off his head that he will give him what +he calls the sack." + +"Nonsense! Your father would not turn away such an old servant as +that." + +"He wouldn't like to, of course," said Will, loftily; "but Boil O has +grown so precious bumptious, and he doesn't care to do this, and he +doesn't care to do that. I believe he thinks he's master of the whole +place." + +"Well, he always was so ever since I can remember; but--tchah!--your +father would not turn him away. My father says he is the most useful +man he ever knew. Why, he's just like what we say when we count the +rye-grass: soldier, sailor, tinker, tailor--you know." + +"Oh, yes, I know," said Will, "and he isn't soldier nor thief; but he +can do pretty well everything, from making a box, plastering and +painting, to mending a lock or shoeing a horse. But such impudence! My +father mad, indeed! I think it was a very wise thing for him to do, to +buy that engine so cheaply. The old mill's nearly all wood. Suppose it +were to catch fire?" + +"Bother!" said Josh. "Why hasn't it caught fire all these two hundred +years since it was built?" + +"Because everybody's been so careful," said Will. "But it might catch +fire any day." + +"Pigs might fly," said Josh. "Well, suppose it did. Haven't you got +plenty of water to put it out?" + +"Yes, but how are you going to throw it up to the top? Why, with that +engine hose and branch, now old Boil O's put the pump suckers right, you +could throw the water all over the place a hundred feet, I daresay, in a +regular shower. Ha, ha, ha! I say, Josh, what a game!" + +"What's a game?" + +"Shouldn't I like to have the old thing out, backed up to the dam, with +some of the men ready to pump--a shower, you know." + +"Well, I suppose you mean something, but I don't understand." + +"A shower--umbrella." + +"Well, everybody puts up an umbrella in a shower." + +"Yah! What an old thick-head you are!--old Manners sitting under his +umbrella, and we made it rain." + +Josh's face expanded very gradually into the broadest of grins, +wrinkling up so much that it was at the expense of his eyes, which +gradually closed until they were quite tightly shut. + +"Oh, no," he said at last. "It would be a game, but,"--he began to rub +himself gently with both hands--"the very thought of it makes me feel as +if my ribs were sore. He was such a weight." + +"Yes, we mustn't play any more tricks; he's such a good chap. But about +old Boil O--I don't like his turning so queer. He went on at me like a +madman--I felt half frightened--said all sorts of things." + +"What sort of things?" + +"Oh, that father imposed upon him because he was a poor man, and set him +to do all kinds of dirty jobs about the place because he was willing. +Said he'd repent it some day. When you know father picks out those jobs +for him because he's such a clever old chap and does the things better +than the clumsy workmen from the town. But as for imposing upon him," +said the boy, proudly, "father would not impose upon anybody." + +"No, that he wouldn't. My father says he's the most noble-hearted, +generous man he ever knew; he's always ready to put his hand in his +pocket for the poor." + +"So he is," cried Will. "Impose! Why, do you know what he pays old +Boil O every week?" + +"No." + +"Then I shan't tell you, because that's all private; but just twice as +much as he pays any of the other men." + +"And he has that cottage rent-free, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, and Mrs Drinkwater makes a lot every year by letting her rooms to +the artists who come down. She charges just what she likes, and the +people are glad to pay it, because it's such a nice place, and Mrs +Waters makes them so comfortable. Why, look at old Bad Manners--this is +the third year he's been down to stay a couple of months. Now what has +old Boil O got to grumble about." + +"Nothing," said Josh; "only against himself. My father says that he was +born in a bad temper. Why, he won't even say `Good-morning' sometimes, +only gives you a surly scowl or a snap as if he were going to bite." + +"`Let dogs delight to bark and bite, for 'tis their nature to'--that's +poetry. Hollo! What's the matter now?" + +The two lads looked sharply round in the direction of the mill-yard, +from whence a loud, strident voice was heard, saying something in angry +tones, which rose at last to a passionate outburst, drowning the deep +voice of someone responding, and echoing strangely from the high, +cliff-like walls above the picturesque old mill. + +"It's old Drink in one of his fits," said Josh. "Come on; let's see +what's the matter." + +Will had already started off at a dog trot, and the boys ran side by +side towards the mill-yard, where quite a little group of the +silk-weavers and their wives and daughters were hurrying out to +ascertain the cause of the trouble. + +"Why, there's father there," said Josh. + +"What is the matter now?" cried Will. + +The next minute they knew, for, as they readied the spot where +grave-looking John Willows stood looking like a patriarch amongst his +people, beside his friend the gray-headed Vicar, a short, almost +dwarfed, thick-set, large-headed man, with a shiny bald head fringed by +grisly, harsh-looking hair,--and whose dark, wrinkled face was made +almost repellent by the shaggy brows that overhung his fierce, piercing, +black eyes--took a step forward menacingly, and holding out his left +hand, palm upwards, began beating it with his right fist, fiercely +shouting in threatening tones-- + +"It's been so from the first, John Willows, ever since I came to this +mill as a boy. You've been a tyrant and a curse to all the poor, +struggling people who spent their days under you, not as your servants, +but as your slaves." + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! No! No! No!" rose from the hearers, in a murmured +chorus of protest. + +"Silence there!" yelled the man, furiously. + +"You cowardly fools! You worms who daren't speak for yourselves! +Silence, I say, and let one who dares speak for you." + +The Vicar stepped forward and laid his hand on the speaker's shoulder. + +"Drinkwater, my good fellow! My good friend! Pray be calm. You don't +know what you are saying!--you don't know what you are saying!" + +"Oh, yes, I do, Parson. Don't you interfere," added the man, fiercely. + +"But, my dear sir--" + +"Oh, yes, I know! I know you, too, better than you know yourself. You +belong to his set. You side with the money. Make friends with the +mammon of unrighteousness, as you'd say, with that with which he grinds +down all these poor, shivering wretches--money, money, money! Piling up +his money-bags, and making us slaves!" + +"Drinkwater, I cannot stand and listen to this without raising my voice +in protest." + +"Because it gives you a chance to preach," said the man, with a bitter +sneer. + +Will's father stepped forward, but the Vicar raised his hand. + +"One moment, Mr Willows," he said, quietly. "No, James Drinkwater," he +went on, gravely, "I raise my voice in protest, because everyone who +hears you knows that what you say is utterly false. They are the angry +words of an over-excited man. You are not yourself. You have let your +temper get the better of you through brooding over some imaginary +grievance, and to-morrow when you are calm I know from old experience +that you will bitterly regret the insults you have heaped upon the head +of as good and true-hearted a man as ever stepped this earth." + +Drinkwater was about to reply, but he was checked by a fresh speaker, +for Will suddenly threw up his cap high in the air with as loud a hurrah +as he could utter, acting as fugleman to the group around, who joined in +heartily, helped by Josh, in a cheer, strangely mingled, the gruff with +the shrill of the women's voices. + +"Well done!" whispered Will, half-bashfully shrinking back, and gripping +his comrade's arm. "Oh, Josh, I never knew your father could preach +like that!" + +"Cowards! Pitiful, contemptible worms! That's right; put your necks +lower under his heel. I'll have no more of it. From this day, after +the words he's said to me this morning, never another stroke of work I +will do here." + +"Stop, James Drinkwater," cried Will's father, firmly; "as the Vicar +says, you are not yourself. Don't say more of the words of which you +will bitterly repent, when you grow calm--when this fit has passed--and +can see that the fault I found this morning was perfectly justified by +your neglect, in a fit of temper, of a special duty--a neglect that +might have resulted in a serious accident to the machinery, perhaps loss +of life or limb to some of the people here." + +"It's a falsehood," shouted the man. "If I left out those screws it was +because I was dazed--suffering from overwork--work forced upon me that I +was not fit to do, but heaped upon me to save your pocket and the +blacksmith's bill." + +"No," said John Willows, gravely; "I asked you to repair that engine +because I knew it was a mechanical task in which you delighted to +display your skill--because you would do it better than the rough smith +of the town." + +"Nay, it was to save your own pocket." + +"That is untrue," said Mr Willows, "and, if any of your fellow-workers +like to go into the office, the clerk will show them that a liberal +payment, to show my satisfaction over the way the work was done, has +been added as a bonus to your weekly wage." + +Another cheer arose at this, which seemed to add fresh fuel to the angry +fire blazing in the half-demented man's breast. + +"Bah!" yelled Drinkwater, more furious than ever. "Oil! To smooth me +down. But it's too late now. It has meant years of oppression, and the +end has come. But don't think I mean to suffer like these cowardly +worms. I too have been your worm for years, and the worm has turned at +last--a worm that means to sting the foot that has trampled upon it so +long. Here, what do you want, boy?" For Will had stepped forward, and +thrust his hand through the man's arm. + +"You, James, old chap. You come away. Mr Carlile was right; you don't +know what you are saying, or you wouldn't talk to father like that." + +"Let go!" cried the man, fiercely trying to shake the boy off; but Will +clung tightly. + +"No--come and take his other arm, Josh--here, come on up to the cottage, +Jem. What's the good of going on--" + +Will did not finish his sentence, for a heavy thrust, almost a blow, +sent him staggering back towards Josh, who had hurried up, and was just +in time to save his companion from a heavy fall. + +This was too much for Will's father, whose calm firmness gave way. + +"Yes," he said, angrily, "it does now come to that! You talk of putting +an end to the oppression under which you seem to writhe. It shall be +so. I, as your employer, tell you most regretfully, James Drinkwater, +that from this day your connection with the mill must cease--I will not +say entirely, for it would cause me bitter regret to lose so old and +valued a servant; but matters cannot longer go on like this. In justice +to others, as well as myself, this must come to an end. You have always +been a difficult man with whom to deal, but, during the past six months, +a great change has come over you, and I am willing to think that much of +it is due to some failing in your health. There: I will say no more. +This shall not be final, James. I speak for your wife's sake as well as +your own. Go back to the cottage, and, if you will take advice, you +will go right away for a month, or two, or three. You are not a poor +man, as you have proved to me by your acts, by coming to your bitter +tyrant to invest your little savings again and again. Now, sir, speak +out as you did just now, so that all your fellow-workers may hear. Are +not these words true?" + +James Drinkwater stood alone out there in the bright sunshine, which +glistened on his polished bare crown as he glared at his employer, +whilst his hands kept on opening and shutting in company with his lips. + +"Yes," he uttered, at last, in a low, fierce growl, "that's true enough. +Why shouldn't I? Do you think I want to end my days in the Union when +you kick me off like a worn-out dog? Yes, yes, I'll go; but look out. +Long years of work have not crushed all the spirit out of your slave. +Look out! Look out! The worm has turned, and the days are coming when +you will feel its sting." + +He snatched himself fiercely round, and made for the stony slope-- +half-rugged steps--which led upwards towards the dam, and the Vicar +hurried after him; but hearing his steps, the man turned and waved him +back, before striding along till he stopped suddenly in the middle of +the great stone dam, raised his clenched hands towards the sunlit +heavens, and then shook them at the group below. + +The next minute he made a rush towards the path leading upward towards +his cottage, passing Mr Manners, who was hurrying down, and disappeared +amongst the trees. + +"Why, hollo!" shouted the artist. "What's the matter with my landlord? +I was going to strip for a swim. Has he turned mad? I thought he was +going to jump in." + +"I'm afraid that he ought to see a doctor," said the Vicar, gravely. +"He is evidently suffering from a terrible fit of excitement," and as +they joined Mr Willows and the murmuring group of work-people below, he +continued; "You see a great deal of him, Mr Manners. Have you noticed +anything strange in his ways?" + +"Strange?" said the artist, bluffly. "Well, yes, he's always strange--a +silent, morose sort of fellow. But I don't dislike him; he's a very +straightforward, good man, who rather looks down on me. We hardly ever +speak, but I have noticed that his wife has seemed a little more +troubled than usual lately. I left her crying only just now, and asked +what was the matter; but all I could get was that her husband was not +well. What's been going on here? I heard him shouting as soon as I +came outside." + +"Ah! That sounds bad," continued the artist, as soon as the Vicar had +related the incident that had passed. "Poor fellow! He doesn't drink, +I know: sober as a judge. Temper--that's what it is." + +"I don't like to hear those threats," said the Vicar. + +"Pooh! Wind! Fluff! People say all sorts of things when they are in a +passion, and threaten high jinks. I do sometimes, don't I, boys? Take +no notice, Mr Willows. We are not going to have the peace of our happy +valley spoiled because somebody gets in a fantigue. Well, boys, how +does the fire-engine go?" + +"Haven't tried it yet," said Will. + +"H'm! Can't we have a bit of a blaze? I should like to come and help +to put it out." + +"I think we ought to have got it out to play on poor old Boil O, for +he's been quite red-hot." + +"Look here, young fellow, you're rather fond of those little games, as I +well know." + +The boys both looked very guilty, and turned scarlet. + +"You take a little bit of advice. Don't you try such a trick as that on +him. It wouldn't do." + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +AMONG THE TROUT. + +The next week passed, and the next, and more than one of the employes +said a word or two to Will about how strange it seemed without James +Drinkwater. + +They were not alone, for Mr Willows made the same remark to his son. + +"The place doesn't seem the same, Will, without James in his old place. +By the way, have you seen anything of him since?" + +"Yes, father; Josh and I went up to take Mr Manners some flies, and +James was in the garden digging; but, as soon as he saw me, he slipped +away round by the back, and went off into the woods. Josh said that he +shied at me." + +"But you, my boy? You didn't show any resentment for his behaviour to +you?" + +"I? Oh, no: not I, father; I didn't mind. I knew he was in a temper. +I should have gone and shaken hands with him if he had stopped." + +"Quite right, my boy. He'll be better soon, and come back, like the +true, honest fellow he is, and ask to be taken on." + +"But what about his threats, father?" + +"Pooh!" ejaculated Mr Willows. "Mr Manners was right." + +One afternoon Josh came down as usual from the Vicarage, rod in hand. + +"What about fishing, Will?" he said. "There's a lot of fly out on the +upper waters. Get your rod, and let's rout out old RA, and see if we +can't show him some better sport than we had the other evening." + +"Ah, yes," said Will. "I believe he thought we took him where there +wasn't a fish, just to play him a trick." + +"Yes, that comes of getting a bad character," said Josh. "He'll be +treating us like the shepherds did the boy in the fable who cried +`wolf!'" + +"Oh, bother! There were plenty of fish up there, only they had been +having a good feed, and wouldn't rise." + +The boy hurried off to where his long, limber, trout rod was resting on +three hooks, all ready with winch, taper line, and cast, under the eaves +of the mill-shed nearest to the water. + +"What flies are you going to try?" said Josh. + +"Oh, black gnats." + +"No, I wouldn't," said Josh. "Red spinner is the one for to-night." + +"Ah, to be sure! Have you got any?" + +"Have you?" + +"Not one; but you have, or else you would not have proposed them." + +"Come on; but I say, doesn't it look black!" said Josh. + +"Yes, we shall have some rain to-night, I think," said Will; "and if it +does come down and Bad Manners gets wet, he'll think it another trick!" + +The boys shouldered their rods, and went up upon the dam, whose waters +looked deep and dark, and smooth as glass, save where here and there a +big trout quietly sucked down some unfortunate fly, forming +ever-expanding rings on the mirror-like surface. + +"My! There's a whopper!" cried Josh, as the fish broke the surface with +a loud smack. + +"What are you going to do?" cried Will. + +"Do? Why, have a few throws; they are rising splendidly." + +"More reason why we should fetch old Manners." + +"All right," said Josh, securing his fly again to one of the lower rings +of his rod, shouldering it, and following his companion along the +ascending path leading to the cottage. + +They had passed along the second of the zig-zags when, at the third +turn, they came suddenly upon Drinkwater standing in the shade of a +drooping birch, gazing intently down upon the mill. + +The boys were close upon him before he heard their steps, and then, +starting violently, he wrenched himself round, leaped actively upon a +heap of stones at his side, seized one of the hanging boughs, dragged +himself up, and dived at once into the dense undergrowth, disappearing +with a loud rustling amongst the bracken. + +"All right, old chap!" said Will, cavalierly, "just as you like! But +you are fifty, and I wouldn't behave like a sulky boy." + +"Oh, take no notice," said Josh. "Father says that he is sure to come +round." + +"Not going to," said Will. "Come along." + +Ten minutes later they reached the cottage gate, to find Drinkwater's +sad-looking, patient-faced wife looking anxiously over the hedge. + +"How are you, Mrs Waters?" cried Will, cheerily. "We haven't come for +tea this time. We are going to catch some trout--a good creelful--for +you to cook." + +"I hope you will, my dears," said the woman, gently. "Mr Manners was +sadly disappointed the other night. He said he thought that you had +played him another trick." + +"There, what did I say?" cried Will. "Is he in his room?" + +"No, my dears; he's painting down by the birches, below the cave." + +"All right," cried Will. "Look here; I'll take his rod and basket." + +The creel was hanging from a nail beneath the cottage porch, and the rod +stood up like a tall reed with its spear stuck in one of the garden +beds; and, quite at home, Will took them from their resting-places, +swung the creel strap across his back, laid the rod alongside his own +over his shoulder, and then walked sharply on along familiar paths, with +a booming noise growing louder and louder as they progressed, till at +one of the turns of the stream they came full in sight of the great fall +where the water was thundering down into the rocky hollow it had carved, +and a faint mist of spray rose to moisten the overhanging ferns. + +"Big mushroom, Josh!" cried Will, pointing to the great, open umbrella. +"What shall we do? Say we are coming with a stone?" + +"No, no," said Josh; "no larks now." + +"Well, I could hit it like a shot," said Will, picking up a rounded +pebble. + +"Why, so could I, if you come to that," said Josh. + +"Not you! Come, let's try." + +"No, no; I don't want to tease him. Let's get him on to fish." + +"You couldn't hit it," said Will. + +"All right; think so if you like," said Josh, and Will sent his stone +flying with a tremendous jerk right away into the trees beyond the +stream. + +"Coo-ee!" he shouted. "Mr RA! Ahoy!" + +"Don't!" cried Josh. + +"Why?" + +"He won't like it. Father says that he told him once that he was sadly +disappointed that he had not had more success with the pictures he sent +to town." + +"Poor old chap!" said Will. "Well, I suppose they were not very good." + +"That's what father thinks," said Josh. + +"How does he know?" said Will. + +"Oh, he says that if they were good they wouldn't all come back." + +"Well, RA goes on painting them all the same," said Will. "Coo-ee! Mr +Manners, ahoy!" + +This time the artist looked up, rose from his seat, stretched himself, +and waved his palette in the air. + +"Hollo, young 'uns," he said, as they came up; "off fishing again?" + +"Yes," said Will, "and I've brought your rod." + +"Very much obliged to you," said the artist, sarcastically. "But not +this time, thank you; I would rather paint." + +"Oh--oh!" cried Will. "Do come! I've brought your basket too." + +"To put nothing in, eh? No, not this time, thanks." + +"But it's a good evening, Mr Manners, and the fish are rising +splendidly." + +"Honour?" cried the artist, with a searching look. + +"Bright!" cried Josh, earnestly. + +"All right, then. Here, I want to put in that little bit of sunlight, +and then I'll come. How do you think it looks?" he said, resuming his +seat and beginning to paint once more. + +The boys were silent for a few moments, as they examined the picture +critically. + +"Lovely," said Will, at last. + +"Yes," said Josh; "I like it better than that last you did." + +"Mean it, boys?" + +"Why, of course!" said the lads together. + +"Hum! Hum! Yes, it isn't so bad as usual," said the artist, sadly. "I +may say it is pretty. But that's all. I have tried very hard, but +there is nothing great in my stuff. I suppose I haven't got the right +touch in me. But never mind; painting has given me many a happy day +amongst the most beautiful scenes in creation, and I suppose that I +oughtn't to grumble if it gives me honest pleasure instead of coin. +Why, it has made me friends, too, with a pair of as reckless young +ruffians as ever gloried in playing a trick. My word, Josh, I must be a +good man! If I hadn't a better temper than your friend Drinkwater, +Master Will, I should have loosened both your skins with a good licking +more than once." + +"Well, don't do it now," said Will, grinning. "Mine feels quite loose +enough, and I want you to come and fish." + +"Brought my rod, then, have you? But what am I to do with my traps?" + +"Fold up the umbrum," said Will, "and I'll climb up here and stuff them +into the cave. Then they'll be out of the wet when the rain comes." + +"Ah, to be sure," said the artist. "Capital! But it isn't going to +rain." + +"It is," said Will, decisively. "Look yonder: the old Tor's got his +nightcap on." + +"So he has," cried the artist, eagerly, as he looked up at the +mountainous top, miles away, nearly hidden by a faint white mist. +"Here, hold hard a minute; I must dash that in my picture." + +"No, no," cried the boys, in a breath. "You can do that any time. Come +on." + +"Well, it seems a pity," said the artist, "but somehow you two always +make me feel quite a boy again and ready to take holiday and play. +There, put away my traps." + +A few minutes later, umbrella, easel, and colour-box were safely stowed +away in a narrow opening in the face of the limestone rock, and the +three were trudging on upwards to a mighty bend. There a great rift +opened out into a wide amphitheatre, where, shallow and bright with +flashing stickle, the stream danced among the stones, to calm down +directly after in deep pool after pool, which looked like so many +silvery mirrors netted by the rings formed by the rising fish. + +"Now, Mr Manners," cried Josh, "what do you say to that? Are there any +trout in Willows' waters?" + +"Yes, splendid! We ought to get some fish to-night. Here, where are +your creels?" + +"Haven't brought them," said Will. "We are going to help fill yours." + +And they did, for the fish rose to nearly every cast, quarters and +half-pounders, the artist to his great delight landing two both well +over a pound, for it was one of those evenings when, as if warned by +their natural instinct of a fast to come, the trout rose at every fly, +taking in their heedless haste the artificial as well as the true, and +only finding their mistake when gasping out their brief life upon the +bracken laid at the bottom of the artist's creel. + +The trio fished on till the creel was nearly full, so intent upon their +sport that they paid no heed to the gathering clouds, Nature's +harbingers of the storm about to break among the hills, till a bright +flash of light darted down the vale, followed almost instantaneously by +a mighty crash, which went roaring and rumbling on in echoes, to die +distantly away. + +"Hold on!" shouted Will. "Look sharp; we shall have to run. It'll be +wet jackets as it is. I say, Mr M, lucky I put away your traps! +Wasn't I right?" + +"Right you were, young 'un," cried the artist, making a whizzing noise +as he wound up his multiplying winch. "But I'm not going to bark my +shins running amongst these stones. Now then, boys. 'Tention! +Shoulder rods! Right face! March!" And he led off at a rapid rate +down by the side of the stream. "Here, lads, that's heavy," he cried at +the end of a few minutes, just as the rain began to make chess pawns +upon the surface of the pools. "I'll carry it now." + +"No, no," cried Will. "But let's shelter here for a few minutes. It's +only going to be a shower now." + +He ran into where a great mass of slatey-looking rock stood out from the +perpendicular side of the gorge, heedless of the fact that it +necessitated splashing in through the shallow water, which nearly +covered his boots. + +"Nice dry spot this," said the artist, laughing, as they stood in the +ample shelter. + +"Oh, it is only wetting one's feet," said Will. "We are quite dry +upstairs." + +"Oh, I don't mind," said the artist. "My word! It is coming down. How +it hisses! But you are right: it won't last long." + +In less than half an hour the sky was nearly clear again, but water +enough had fallen to make the stream which rushed by their feet rise +full five inches, bringing forth the remark from Josh that they were +getting it warmly higher up in the hills. + +Possibly he alluded to the lightning, for flash after flash divided the +heavens in zig-zag lines, though none seemed to come near them, and they +were soon after tramping on, wet-footed only, back towards Vicarage, +cottage, and mill. + +"I say, hark at the fall!" cried Will, as they neared the spot where +they had picked up their friend. + +"Yes, it is coming down," said Josh. "Well, your father wanted it." + +"Yes," said Will; "the dam was getting low. I say, Mr Manners, I told +old Mother Waters to get her frying-pan ready, for there'd be some +fish." + +"Yes, and you were right this time," said the artist; "but I'm not going +to take in all these. Here, Will, pick out four brace of the best." + +"Shan't!" said Will, shortly. "We get quite as many as we want. Take +them all in yourself. One moment--send Mr Carlile up some instead. +Here, come on; it's going to rain again. My! Isn't the fall thundering +down!" + +Will was right. Another heavy shower was coming over from the hills; +but it did not overtake the party before they had all reached home, and +then Nature made up for a long dry time by opening all her reservoirs, +to fill pool, gully, and lynn, the waters roaring for hours down the +echoing vale, till the next morning the placid stream was one foaming +torrent that seemed to threaten to bear away every projecting rock that +stood in its way, while every sluice was opened at the mill to relieve +the pressure of the overburdened dam. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +A NIGHT GOSSIP. + +As has been pointed out, the artist was a quiet man, and the tranquil +life of the little village was exactly to his taste. Mrs Drinkwater +looked well after his few wants, and until the disturbance at the mill, +when Drinkwater had been turned off, there had been nothing to trouble +him. Since that occurrence, however, he had frequently come across his +landlady with traces of tears in her eyes, and that evening when after +parting with the two lads he reached the pretty cottage, she came out to +meet him at the gate. + +"Oh, Mr Manners, sir," she said, "I'm afraid I'm afraid--" + +"Afraid what of, Mrs Drinkwater?" + +"I'm afraid that something's happened to my man. He has not been home +to-day." + +The artist led the poor woman into the kitchen. + +"Sit down, Mrs Drinkwater," he said, kindly. "Now just listen to me. +I, too, am deeply concerned about Drinkwater. Can't you reason with +him--make him see how wrong all this behaviour is, and convince him that +he has only one sensible thing to do, namely, go and ask pardon of Mr +Willows?" + +"Oh, I do wish I could, sir; but Jem won't listen to me. He might +listen to you, sir." + +"Ah, but you see this is not my business, Mrs Drinkwater." + +"No, sir, but he respects you, and he might perhaps pay attention to +what you said." + +"Maybe," said the artist, thoughtfully. "Well, I will see what I can +do." + +"Thank you, sir--thank you!" + +"When did you see him last?" + +"It's two days ago now, sir." + +"Well, Mrs Drinkwater, we must hope for the best. I have always found +your husband willing and obliging up to quite recently. It seems to me +that if matters are put to him in a quiet common-sense way he will +listen. Hang it all, he will have to listen! We can't have you crying +your eyes out because he chooses to behave like a brute to you." + +"Oh, my Jem really means well, sir," said the woman; "I know he does. +He has always been a good husband to me." + +Late that evening the artist thought over affairs. It was a pleasant +soft summer night, and when he was alone he quietly opened the cottage +door, and lighting his pipe, sat down on the little rustic seat which +was just outside. There was hardly a sound--nothing but the night wind +sweeping through the valley, the far-off plash of water, the purring +noise of a big moth as it flew past and then hovered a second, attracted +by the gleam of the artist's pipe. + +There was a step, loud and heavy, and Manners started to his feet as a +burly figure suddenly appeared just in front of him. + +"Hallo, Drinkwater!" he cried. "You, my man?" + +"Me it is, Mr Manners." + +"Oh, that's all right. I was wanting to see you." + +"Wanting to see me? What for?" said the man, gruffly. + +"Oh, for several reasons. I don't like my landlord to go off for days +together, nobody knows where." + +"Not wanted now," said the man, sourly--"Nobody wants me now." + +"That's not a fact, Drinkwater," said the artist, firmly. "Not a bit +true. To begin with, I want you." + +"Pictures to see too?" + +"No, not pictures. I just want to talk to you; that's all. Have you +got your pipe? Oh, I see you have. Here's my pouch. Come, fill and +light up, and sit down here. It's a lovely night, isn't it?" + +"Humph!" grunted the man, as he obeyed and began to smoke. + +"Now," said the artist, cheerily, after a few minutes' silence, "what's +wrong with you? At least, I need not ask that. You have quarrelled +with your old friend and employer, for no reason, and it's no end of a +pity, I can assure you. You will not mind my speaking out plainly like +this, as man to man, for I have known you a long time now; and besides, +I'm under a debt to you for helping me that night." + +"Humph!" said the man again. + +"Now," said the artist, "has all this sulking done you any good?" + +"Good!" growled the man. "Good! No. There has been no good in my +life. I have slaved it all away for a thankless taskmaster." + +"Bah!" said the artist, with a laugh. "Mr Willows a taskmaster! Why, +it's too absurd! He's one of the very best men that ever lived; and in +your heart of hearts you know it, Drinkwater. You know it quite well." + +"I want revenge," said the man. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the artist. "Revenge! Why, Drinkwater, it's +really funny. Revenge! What are you going to do? Blow up the mill?" + +"Eh?" said the man, shifting uneasily in his seat and turning to stare +at his companion. "Blow up the mill? What, me?" + +"There, there," said Manners, "I didn't mean it. It was only a joke. +Think it over, Drinkwater. Think it over," he continued, as the man +rose; and the artist held out his hand, but whether it was the darkness +which prevented his seeing the gesture, or for some other reason, the +hand was not taken, and a moment later the man had entered the cottage, +while the artist got up to follow him, for it was very late and he was +tired. + +"What has he got in his head?" he mused. "I don't like his manner at +all." + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +ON THE WATCH. + +Josh and the Vicar were down at the mill in good time the next morning, +to find Will and his father in the bright sunshine under a cloudless +sky, on the bank overlooking the wide pool, and, just as they reached +them, with a hearty "Good-morning!" Manners came up. + +Overhead, all was bright and clear, and, from Nature's newly washed +face, a fresh, sweet scent rose into the air; but the lower part of the +valley seemed quite transformed. Sluices and waterfalls were gushing +down everywhere, making for the main stream, which added to the general +roar of water as it rushed along, racing for the overcharged river far +away. + +Every moment some fresh sign of the mischief which had been done by the +flood glided by. The stream was no longer crystal-like and clear, but +turgid with the soil swept from high up the banks; leaves, twigs, broken +branches, and even trees, mostly root upwards, went bobbing by, every +now and then to become anchored for a few moments amongst the stones, +and forming some little dam which kept the water back till there was +weight enough to overcome the obstacle and send it onwards with a rush. + +"Well," cried Manners, in his bluff way, "how is it, Mr Willows? I +woke up this morning, looked out of the window, and then dressed in a +flurry, to hurry down, half expecting that the mill had been swept +away." + +"I, too," said the Vicar, "felt a bit nervous; the storm was awful, and +I wondered whether such a weight of waters might not have made an +opening somewhere in your dam." + +"Well, to be candid," said Mr Willows, "I woke long before daybreak and +came out with Will here to see how we stood. But we are all right. My +ancestors were simple men, but what they did they did with all their +hearts. It must have been very slow work year by year, the quarrying +and bringing down all these stones; but they planted them well, the lime +they burned was of the best, and it is harder now than the stone itself. +The dam has stood two hundred years, and it is so solid that it looks +as if it would stand two hundred more." + +"Then we are all right," cried Manners, heartily. + +"Yes, we are all right," said Mr Willows, smiling and holding out his +hand; "and this is nice and neighbourly of you, a stranger, Mr Manners, +to speak like this." + +"Neighbourly?" said Manners, colouring through his well-tanned skin. +"Oh, I don't know about that. Only, you see, coming down year after +year, and seeing so much of the boys, one seems to know you all so +well." + +"Exactly," said the Vicar, smiling; "Willows is quite right; it is +neighbourly, or we will say brotherly, if you like." + +"No, no, no!" cried the artist. "Here, I'll tell you what to say-- +nothing. But I am heartily glad there is no serious mischief done." + +"None at all," said Willows. "Rather good. The big pool was getting +very low. Now we shall be all right for months. The water's falling +fast, and in half an hour I shall have the waste water-sluices closed, +and by mid-day the stream will be running much as usual." + +"That's right," cried Manners. "I say, boys; lucky we had our fishing +last night. Why, every trout will have been washed down-stream and out +to sea." + +"Not one," cried Will. "Will they, father?" + +"No, my boy; I don't suppose they will; they'll have got into the eddies +and backwaters, driven down a good deal here and there; but their +natural habit is to make their way higher and higher up to the shallows +in search of food. There, Mr Manners, I don't think that you'll miss +any of your sport. My experience is that places which swarm with trout +one day are empty the next, and vacant spots where you have thrown a fly +in vain will another time give you a fish at nearly every cast." + +"Well," said Manners, "as I have had my fright for nothing, my nature's +beginning to assert itself, and the main question now with me is +breakfast. Now, boys, will you come and join me? I can't smell them, +but I can almost venture to say for certain that Mrs Drinkwater is +frying trout. What do you say?" + +"No, thank you, Mr Manners," replied Will; "my father will want me, +perhaps, to give orders to the men; but Josh has got to pass the +cottage." + +"Of course," cried Manners; "and you might honour me too, Mr Carlile." + +"Thanks, no," said the Vicar. "Josh can stay, and he will be glad. +I'll go on, for they would be waiting breakfast at home." + +The artist gave a tug at a thick chain, and dragged out a heavy, +old-fashioned, gold watch. + +"Five o'clock," he cried. "We should be done by six. Why, you'd be +quite ready for a second breakfast, sir, by eight or nine." + +"Do come, father." + +"Very well," said the Vicar, smiling; and the artist carried them off, +leaving Willows with his son to walk slowly on to the broad dam where +the foam-covered water brimmed the stones, as if only wanting the +impulse of a puff of wind to sweep over the top. + +They stopped about the middle, to stand looking up the vale. + +"I say, father, do you feel that?" cried Will. + +"What?--the quivering sensation, my boy?" + +"Yes; it is just as if the water was shaking the stones all loose." + +"Yes, but it is only the vibration caused by the water rushing through +the open sluices on either side; they are open as wide as they will go, +and have just been large enough to do their work well and keep the flood +down. I fully expected to find it foaming over the top. What are you +looking at?" + +"Don't take any notice, father. I'm going to look away. Just turn your +eyes quietly up to the old stone bench on the top there by the lookout." + +There was a pause of a moment or two, during which the mill-owner +stooped to pick up a piece of sodden, dead wood, to throw it outward +into the current tearing through one of the open sluices. Then turning +right away, he said, quietly-- + +"Yes, there's someone's face looking over from the back. Who can it +be?" + +"Can't you see, father?" + +"No; unless it's James." + +"It is, father; I saw his face just now quite clear. What does he want +there? Does he want to speak to you about coming back?" + +"Hardly so soon as this, my boy," said Will's father, rather sadly. +"Brought here by curiosity, I suppose, like our other friends--a good +sign, Will. He takes an interest in the old mill, after all." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +THE ALARM. + +A fortnight had glided by. The dam was kept more than full by hours of +stormy weather high up in the hills many miles away; but the stream had +resumed its gentle course, the trout were back in their old haunts, +Manners had finished one of his landscapes and begun another, and one +soft, sweet, very early autumn evening three busy pairs of hands where +at work at the round table plainly visible in the light cast by Mrs +Drinkwater's shaded lamp. + +"No," said Will, who was holding something in a pair of pliers in his +left hand, and winding a thread of silk brought up from the mill round +it with his right, "he hasn't been near us yet. Josh and I keep running +against him in the woods, or up one of the river paths; but, as soon as +he sees us, he turns his back and goes in among the trees." + +"Shies at us," interpolated Josh. + +"Yes," said Will, softly, as he wound away, his face screwed up and +looking intent to a degree. "Shies! I say, Mr Manners, you, living +here, see him every day, of course?" + +"No, I don't," said the artist. "He has his breakfast before I'm down, +and goes off and doesn't come back till after dark. The missus, poor +soul, told me yesterday--crying away like your old mill-wheel--that he +takes a bit of bread and cheese with him and goes off to sit and mope +somewhere in the woods. He never hardly speaks to her. She said, poor +thing, that she'd give anything to see him back at his regular work." + +"Ha!" cried Will, holding up the something proudly upon which he had +been at work. "Now, I call that something like a coachman." + +"Not a bit," said Josh. "How can a little hook, a thread of gut, a few +small feathers, and some dubbing, be like a coachman?" + +"Get out, Clevershakes! What an old chop-logic you are! I didn't +christen that kind of artificial fly a coachman; but it's a well-made +one, isn't it, Mr Manners?" + +"Well, yes, very nicely made; but it's not a London maker's idea of a +jarvey." + +"No," said Will, "but it's the sort that will catch the fish. You'd +never guess whose make that is." + +"Why, it's yours, my lad." + +"Yes; but you don't know who taught me." + +"Not I; but I should like you to make me half a dozen more." + +"All right; I will; a dozen, if you like. They suit our waters fine. +That's old Boil O's pattern. He taught me; he used to say that the +proper way to make a fly was to watch the real one first, and make it as +near as you could like that--not take a copy from somebody's book." + +"Quite right," said the artist; "old Boil O's a philosopher." + +"I wish he was a sensible man instead," said Will. "I've been thinking, +Mr Manners, that as you live here and know him so well--" + +"That I don't," cried the artist. "I never knew less of any man in my +life." + +"Well, never mind that; you live here, and I think it would be very nice +if you'd get hold of him and talk sensibly, like you can." + +"Thank you for the compliment, my young judge." + +"I say, don't poke fun, Mr Manners; I want to talk seriously." + +"That's right; I like to hear you sometimes, my young joker. I wouldn't +give a sou for a fellow who was all fun." + +"Well, look here, Mr Manners; I want you to let him see what a jolly +old stupid he is making of himself. Of course father can't come and ask +him to return to work, but I know that dad would shake hands with him at +once, and be as pleased as Punch." + +"Well," said the artist, dryly, "I can't quite see in my own mind your +grave and reverend parent looking as pleased as Punch; it doesn't seem +quite in his way." + +"Of course not; but you know what I mean." + +"Well, I guess at it, boy; and you mean what is quite right. I should +be very glad to do anything for either of you, and to put an end to a +melancholy state of affairs; but look here, my dear boy, I don't think +that I should be doing right as an outsider, such a bird of passage as I +am, to say more to Drinkwater than I have already done. He knows what I +think; but I want to be friends with everybody here, and I feel sure +that by interfering further I should be turning ray landlord into an +enemy. I am obliged to say `no.' And now, if you please, we'll go on +with our fly-making, and get our tackle ready for another turn at the +trout." + +"Well, I am very sorry," said Will, sadly, "and--" + +"Whatever's that?" cried Josh, springing to his feet and staring wildly +through the open window. + +"Eh? Whatever's what?" said the artist, slowly, looking in the same +direction. "Why, as Pat would say, it isn't to-morrow morning, and the +sun never rises in the west, or he'd be getting up now. Why, by all +that's wonderful, it's--" + +"Fire! Fire!" shouted Will, wildly. + +"Yes," cried Josh, in a husky voice, "and it's at the mill." + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +GOOD SERVANT--BAD MASTER. + +There was no stopping to put away artificial fly material. Hat and caps +were snatched up, and the next minute all three were running as fast as +the rugged stones and the dangerous nature of the path would allow, +downward towards the mill, their faces suffused by the warm glow which +rose from out of the valley beyond the trees. + +For a few moments the pat, pat of the runners' feet, and the rattle and +rush of the stones they dislodged were the only sounds to be heard. +Then came a loud shout from below, a confused murmur of voices, the wild +shriek of a woman, followed by the hoarse voice of a man, shouting +"Fire! Fire!" the last time to be drowned by the loud clang of the +mill's big bell, whose tongue seemed to be giving its utterances in a +wild, hysterical way, as rope and wheel were set in motion by a pair of +lusty arms. + +There were a couple more zigzags to descend, which never had seemed so +long to Will before, and meanwhile the buzz of voices, mingled with +shouted orders, grew louder and more confused. + +"Shall we never get there?" panted Will. + +"Take it coolly, my boy," cried the artist. + +"Steady! Cool! Steady!" snapped out Will. "Who can be cool at a time +like this?" + +"You," said Manners, "and you must. We don't want to get there pumped +out and useless in an emergency. We want to help." + +"Ha!" panted Josh, as if satisfied with their friend's utterance, and +feeling that it exactly expressed his feelings. + +"Oh, the poor old mill!" cried Will, as the next minute they came full +in sight of the long wooden range of buildings, up one end of which, as +if striving to reach the bell turret, great tongues of fire were gliding +steadily in a ruddy series, licking at board and beam as they pursued +their way. + +Just then a thought struck Will, and he breathlessly shouted-- + +"The engine! The engine! Who says my father was foolish now?" + +"I say he was a Solomon," cried Manners. "Hurrah, boys! Let's have the +engine out! Plenty of water! Take it coolly; we'll soon have her going +now." + +He had hardly finished speaking when John Willows' voice rose loudly +above the babble of the little crowd, giving orders; and, as the boys +rushed up with their friend, an iron bar was heard to rattle, two doors +were flung back, and the grinding and crushing sound of wheels over +gravel followed, as the little engine was run out with a hearty cheer; +the excited men who took the place of horses and pushed wherever they +could find a place for their hands, running the machine along the mill +front right up towards where the fire was blazing fast, and bringing to +it a current of air as it rose, which made the flames burn moment by +moment more fiercely, as they obtained a greater hold. + +"No, no, no!" yelled Will. "You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong! +Back with her at once!" + +"Nay, it's all right, boys," cried one of the men; "it's all right; go +on!" + +"It isn't," shouted Will. "Back with her close to the dam!" + +"Nay," cried the same voice; "the fire's here." + +"I know that!" shouted Will, rushing at him and thrusting him aside. +"Ah, here's father! Give orders, father; it must be close to the water. +The suction-pipe is short." + +"Yes, of course," cried Willows. "You're wrong, men. Back with her to +the pool there below the wheel! Mr Manners, take the lead, please, +over getting out and connecting the hose. Will, see to the +suction-pipe, and that its rose is well clear of the gravel. Get to +work as soon as you can. Josh, my boy, follow and help me. I'm afraid +the place is doomed, Mr Manners; I must go to the office and get out +the safe and books." + +"Right, sir; we will do our best," cried the artist. "How did it +occur?" + +"Goodness only knows," was the reply, and each hurried to his appointed +task. + +They worked well, but, as a matter of course, there was little +discipline; every worker thought he knew best, gave his opinions, and +hindered the progress of the rest; but at last the engine was in the +most favourable place for operating, the suction-pipe attached and +hanging down in a deep, dark hole, scooped lower year after year by tons +of the water falling from the wheel; while forward, under the artist's +guidance, length after length of the hose had been unrolled and the +gun-metal screws fitted together till it stretched out far in the +glowing light towards the burning timbers. Here, as near as it was safe +for man to go, the artist stood in shirt and trousers, sleeves rolled up +over his massive arms, bending down, a picturesque object, like some +gladiator fitting his weapon before doing battle with the fiery monster +wreathing upwards above his head, as he screwed on the glistening copper +branch. + +"Ready!" he roared, as Will's father and Josh came out of the open +office door laden with heavy ledgers. + +"All right!" shouted Will. "Now, boys, all together--pump!" + +Cling, clang! Cling, clang! Cling clang! Three times over, the +handles rose and fell with a strange, weird sound, and then, as if moved +by one impulse, the workers stopped, and, sounding strangely +incongruous, a man whose voice was blurred by the north-west country +burr shouted-- + +"Why, t'owd poomp wean't soock!" + +"Nay," cried another; "I never had no faith in t'owd mawkin of a thing. +She's only fit to boon the roads." + +"What's the matter?" shouted Manners. + +"I don't know," cried Will, despondently; "it won't go." + +"Are the pipes screwed on right?" said Manners. + +"Yes." + +"Is your end down in the water?" + +"Yes; three or four feet." + +"We must have got something screwed on upside down." + +"No," said Will, firmly; "it's all right, just as old Boil O put it +together when it was done." + +"But it isn't all right," cried Manners; "the suckers or something must +have been left out." + +"Oh, why didn't we try it? Why didn't we try it when it was done?" +groaned Will. "I did want to, but Boil O said there was no time for me +to be playing my games." + +At that moment Mr Willows ran up. + +"Well," he cried, "why don't you pump?" + +"We did, father, but it won't go." + +"Then don't waste time. Here, Manners!" + +"Catch hold," shouted the artist, thrusting the copper branch into the +nearest man hands and running up. + +"Yes!" he said. + +"Ladders and buckets," continued Mr Willows. + +"Right, and form a double line. I say," he whispered; "here's +treachery." + +"I fear so; I fear so," said Willows, in the same tone. "It's revenge, +and the engine has been purposely left out of gear. No," he cried, as +if in agony, his words having given him intense pain; "I won't believe a +man could be so base." + +There was the scuffling rush of feet just then, and the object of his +thoughts, wild and weird-looking from his dwarfish aspect, glistening +head, and staring eyes, dashed up. + +"Here, fools! Idiots! Are you going to let the poor old mill burn +down?" + +"Hurrah!" shouted Will; "here's Boil O! Here, old fellow, what is there +wrong? I can't get the thing to go." + +"Stand aside!" cried the man, fiercely; and the next moment he was down +on his knees, rapidly examining the connections, valve, piston, and rod. +"Yah!" he roared, savagely. "The pins are left out here." + +Clang went a box, as he threw up a lid in the front, snatched out a +screw hammer and a copper pin, and then, tap, tap, tap, some half-dozen +sharply given blows were heard, the hammer was thrown with a crash back +into the box, and the man's hoarse, harsh voice rose in an angry roar. + +"Now, then, put your backs into it! Pump!" + +_Clink, clank_! _Clink, clank_! _Clink, clonk_! _Clink, clunk_! + +There was a whistling sound as the water forced the wind out of the +leather tubes, rushed along spurting in fine threads out of a score of +tiny holes, and from the joints where they were not tightly screwed up, +and then, just as, seeing what was about to happen, Manners rushed +forward and grasped the copper branch, a fountain as of golden rain +darted out of the glistening branch, rose higher and higher, making the +flames hiss and steam, and a roar of triumph rose above the thudding, +steady clank of the engine, now doing well its work, while the +north-country man who had spoken jeeringly before shouted lustily-- + +"Three cheers, boys, for good old Boil O!" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +IT'S A MYSTERY. + +There was a desperate fight now for about a quarter of an hour between +man's two best slaves--fire and water; and John Willows looked anxiously +on, asking himself the question, which was to win. At the end of the +above-mentioned time, in spite of the inflammable nature of the old +building, the matter was no longer in doubt. The men worked away nobly +at the clanging pumps, and every now and then in her eager excitement, +some sturdy, strong-armed woman made a run forward to thrust husband or +brother aside and take his place, working with a will, and sending quite +a hissing deluge to flood the untouched parts of the roof, and gradually +fight back the flames foot by foot, till their farther progress was +stopped, and the rest was easy. + +All through the fight, Manners held his post right in the forefront, his +face shining in the golden glow as he distributed the water. Will and +Josh kept close up after the books had been saved, always ready to help, +and bringing refreshment, while Drinkwater raged about like some +lunatic, thrusting the men here and there, urging them on to pump +faster, and nearly getting himself crushed over and over again, as he +dodged about with a small oil-can, seeking to lubricate the old and +stiffened parts of the machinery. + +It was all to save the mill from destruction, and the master from injury +from whom he had cut himself adrift, and there was the result at last. +The ruddy light which had illumined the fern-hung sides and curtains of +ivy of the great gorge began to fail. + +The great, black cloud of smoke which hung over from side to side began +to turn from ruddy orange to a dull lead colour, and at last the word +was given to cease pumping. + +"There's nothing to do now, my lads, but to carry a few buckets inside +and look out for sparks," cried Willows. "I thank you all! You've +worked grandly, and you have saved our old mill." + +"There'll be a big sore place upon it to-morrow, master," said one of +the men. + +"Nothing but what James Drinkwater and three or four workmen," said +Willows, speaking meaningly, "can put right within a month. The +machinery at this end seems to be uninjured." + +"I hope so," said Manners, "but the lads here and I have given it a +tremendous washing where we sent the stream in through yon hole and +those broken windows. What about the silk? Will it be spoiled?" + +"There was little there to signify, and the loss will be comparatively +small. Now then, everyone round to the big office, and let's see what +we can do in the way of finding you all something to eat and drink." + +There was another burst of cheers, and soon after, while the men and +women were partaking of the mill-owner's cheer, he and his friends had +been making such examination as the smoke, the darkness, and the water +which had flooded the drenched part of the building would allow. + +"Terrible damage, Carlile," he said. "Still nothing compared to what +might have been. But what has become of Drinkwater? Who saw him last?" + +"I think I did, father," cried Will. "He was busy with a lantern down +there by the engine, wiping and oiling the different parts. I asked him +to come in, but he only grunted and shook his head." + +"That's where I found him," chimed in Josh, "when you sent me with a +message, father." + +"Yes, and I saw him there," said Manners. "My word, how he kept the +pumpers up to the mark! The water never failed once. Why, you got +quite a bargain in the old engine, Mr Willows, and that fellow did it +up splendidly." + +"And worked gloriously," cried Will. "I think, father, he felt ashamed +of all he had said, and wanted to put matters right." + +"I hope so," said Mr Willows; "at any rate I do for my miserable +suspicions when the fire broke out." + +"Don't worry about that," said the Vicar. "It looked horribly black +after his threatenings about revenge. But there, that's all past, and +thank Heaven you can congratulate yourself upon the good that has arisen +out of to-night's dark work." + +"Dark!" said Manners, wiping his black face. "I think we had too much +light." + +"Not enough to show how that fire broke out," said Mr Willows, gravely. +"I cannot understand how it was caused." + +"Couldn't be a spark left by one of the flashes of lightning in the +storms we have had lately, could it?" said Josh, innocently. + +"No," said Will, mockingly; "but it might have been a star tumbled +down." + +"No, it couldn't!" cried Josh, angrily. "Such stuff! It must have been +started somehow." + +"Yes, my boy," said the Vicar, smiling; "but it is a mystery for the +present." + +"Let it rest," said Mr Willows. "I don't concern myself about that +now. I have something else on my mind. I shall not rest, Carlile, till +I have thanked that man for all he has done, and shaken him by the +hand." + +"Oh, he'll turn up soon, I daresay," said Manners. "Here, I know! he +must have got himself drenched with water." + +"Of course!" cried Will. "I saw him lower himself down into the hole to +move the suction-pipe." + +"That's it," said Manners, "and he's gone up to the cottage to have a +change." + +"At any rate," said the Vicar, "I feel thankful that the trouble has +passed, and I shall be seeing him back at his work to-morrow; eh, Mr +Willows?" + +"I hope so," was the reply. "Now then, we must have three or four +watchers for the rest of the night, and those of you who are wet had +better see about a change." + +"Well, I'm one," said Manners, "for I feel like a sponge. I'm off to my +diggings, but I shall be back in half an hour to join the watch." + +"No, no," cried Mr Willows, "you've done enough. I'll see to that." + +"Yes, yes," cried the artist; "I want to come back and think out my plan +for a new picture of the mill on fire. It'll be a bit of history, don't +you see, and I want to get the scene well soaked into my mind." + +"It ought to be burned in already," said Will, laughing. + +"Perhaps it is," said the artist, merrily; and he hurried away. + +So much time had been spent that, to the surprise of all, the early dawn +was beginning to show, and as it broadened it displayed the sorry sight +of one end of the mill blackened--a very mass of smoking and steaming +timbers. + +"I say, Josh," said Will, "only look here! If the fire had got a little +more hold and the wind had come more strongly down, the flames would +have swept everything before them: the mill would have been like a +burnt-out bonfire." + +"Yes," said Josh; "and the house must have gone too." + +"How horrid! But I say, why hasn't old Boil O been back?" + +The man had his own reasons. Not only did he not show himself again +after his work was done, but when in the course of the morning, +impatient at his non-appearance, his employer left the busy scene where +a clearance of the ruined part was going on, and walked up to the +cottage with the Vicar, it was only to catch a momentary glimpse of the +man they sought, as he glided across his garden and made for the woods, +utterly avoiding all advances made by those who wished him well; and +instead of the breach being closed by his conduct, the wound purified by +the fire, his rage against his master and all friendly to the mill +seemed to burn more fiercely than ever. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +DOINGS IN THE DALE. + +"It's no use to bother," said Josh, when the state of affairs was being +canvassed. "Father says there's only one cure for it." + +"What's that?" said Will. + +"Time." + +"I think," said Will, speaking seriously, "that your father, as he's a +clergyman, ought to give old Boil O a good talking to." + +"What!" cried Josh. "Why, he's been to the cottage nearly every day, +trying to get the old man to listen; but it only makes him more wild. +Father says that he shall give it up now, and let him come to his +senses." + +"Yes, I suppose that's best," said Will. "Everybody's been at him. Old +Manners says he got him one evening at the bottom of the garden, but, as +soon as he began to speak, old Boil O turned upon him so fiercely that +he had to cut away." + +"Oh, yes, of course, I'm going to believe that!" said Josh. "Manners +wouldn't run away from a dozen of him." + +"Well," cried Will, "he pretty well startled me when I had a try. I'm +not going to do it any more, I can tell you." + +"My father's right," said Josh. "It only wants time." + +But time went on, and the work-people from the nearest town were hard at +work day by day rebuilding and restoring, so that by degrees the traces +of the late fire began to disappear, while new woodwork, beams, boards +and rafters, bearing ruddy, bright new tiles, gave promise that within +another three months the night's mishap would be a memory of the past. + +It was autumn--a splendid time for fishing; a better time for the +painter, the artist declaring that the tints of the trees and bracken, +the glow of the skies, and the lovely mists that floated down from the +hills and up from the well-charged falls were more glorious than any he +had ever seen before. + +His white mushroom, as Will called it, was always visible, and the boys +spent much time with him when they were not reading with the Vicar up by +the church, for Josh had declared that the message that had come from +Worksop was about the jolliest piece of news he had ever heard. +Doubtless, the headmaster and his subordinates did not think the same, +the news being the breaking out of an exceedingly virulent epidemic of +fever, necessitating the closing of the great school about the time when +the bulk of the pupils were to return. + +Then rumours came that sanitary inspectors had condemned the whole of +the arrangements there as being too old-fashioned to be tolerated, and +instead of becoming once more a busy hive of study during the autumn +term, the whole place had been put in the builders' hands, and rumour +said that the school would not reassemble until the spring, even if the +builders were got rid of then. + +"Well, I don't care," said Will. "I didn't want longer holidays, but it +is much nicer reading and doing exercises up at the Vicarage than with +old Buzfuz's lexicon over there. I'm learning twice as much, and quite +beginning to like Latin now." + +"Of course," said Josh, complacently. "My father used to be a famous +college don before the Bishop gave him the living here." + +"Yes, but he's never been don enough to bring old Boil O back to his +senses. He's worse than ever now." + +"Bring him back to his senses! I don't believe he's got any senses to +bring back," said Josh. "It wants a very clever college don to put +something straight that isn't there." + +The boys were right about Drinkwater, for the man was more fiercely +morose than ever. His efforts to avoid all who knew him, and spend the +greater part of his time moping in the woodlands and high up the valley +towards the headwaters of the stream, were so much waste of time, for +all men and women too, and the children, for the matter of that, avoided +him now as one who was ogreish and evil. Master, Vicar, the artist, and +the two lads might cast away all idea of his guilt respecting the fire +if they liked, but the work-people declared that his was the hand that +fired the mill. Nothing would alter that in their stubborn minds, and +no one knew better than James Drinkwater that this was so. + +Consequently, he nursed up his blind grudge against the little world in +which he dwelt, and became what Will called him--a regular wild man of +the woods. + +But a change was coming. The autumn rains were setting in, the woods +were often dripping, the mosses holding the rain like so much sponge, +and the shelter of a roof becoming an absolute necessity for the one who +had sought it merely of a night. + +"Yes," said Manners, one morning, "the cuckoo's gone long ago, the +swallows are taking flight, and it is getting time for me to pack up my +traps and toddle south." + +"Oh, what a pity!" cried Will. + +"Humph! Yes, for you. What will you chaps do? No one to play tricks +with then." + +"Oh, I say, Mr Manners, play fair!" cried Josh. "Why, I'm sure that +we've behaved beautifully lately." + +"Very," cried the artist. "Why, you young dogs, I've watched you! +You've both been sitting on mischief eggs for weeks. It isn't your +fault that they didn't hatch." + +"Doing what?" cried Josh. + +"Well, trying to scheme some new prank. Only you've used up all your +stuff, and couldn't think one out." + +The boys exchanged glances, and there was a peculiar twinkle in their +eyes, a look that the artist interpreted, and knew that he had judged +aright. + +"But you'll be down again in the spring, Mr Manners?" cried Will. + +"I hope so, my lad. I've grown to look upon Beldale as my second home. +I say, you'll come and help me pack my canvases?" + +"Of course! Are you going to stick up your toadstool to-day?" + +"No; it's going to rain again. It has been raining in the night up in +the hills." + +"Yes," said Josh; "the big fall is coming down with a regular roar." + +"But what about the dam?" said the artist. + +"Full, as it ought to be; they're going to open the upper sluice." + +"When?" said Manners. + +"This afternoon," cried Will. + +"Ah, I'll come and see it done. And about my canvases: I must have some +pieces of wood to nail round and hold them together." + +"As you did last time?" said Will. "Well, old Boil O did that. Won't +you let him do it again?" + +"I've been after him twice, and whenever I spoke he turned away. +Suppose I come down to the mill workshop. We can cut some strong laths +there." + +"Of course," said Will; "this afternoon, when we've seen them open the +sluice." + +"Good," said the artist. "I will be there; but look here, let's carry +the canvases down; there are only twelve. Nothing like the present. +I'll bring them now." + +"You mean, we'll take them now," said Will, correctively. + +The matter was arranged by their taking four each. + +"Going to take them below to the mill to pack, Mrs Drinkwater," said +Manners, as they went down the path. + +"Dear, dear, sir," said the woman, sadly; "it seems so early, and it'll +be very dull when you're gone." + +"Next spring will soon come, Mrs Drinkwater," said Manners, cheerily; +and the trio strolled on together, to come, at the angle of the second +zig-zag, plump upon Drinkwater, with one arm round a birch trunk, his +right hand to his shaggy brow, leaning away from the path as far as he +could, as if gazing down at the dam. + +"Morning, Drinkwater," cried Manners, cheerily. + +The man started violently, stared at the canvases, then at their bearer, +and hurried away in amongst the trees. + +"Nice cheerful party that to live with, lads," said the artist, +laughingly. "Only fancy being his wife!" + +"Yes," said Josh; "and now you see if he don't turn worse than ever. I +know." + +"Know what?" said Will. + +"He'll be as disagreeable as possible, because he's not going to nail up +the canvases, and lay it all on his poor wife." + +"He'd better not let me hear him," said Manners. "Surly brute! +Wouldn't do it himself, and now turns nasty. I saw his savage looks! I +should just like to shake some of his temper out of him. Takes a lot of +your father's physic, Josh, to set him right." + +"Time?" cried the boy. "Ah, he'll have to have a stronger dose." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS. + +There was not much to see. The great pool was very full--a great, +V-shaped sheet of water, or elongated triangle, whose shortest side was +formed by the massive stone dam built across the narrow valley, standing +some forty feet high from its base, to keep back the waters, and being +naturally, when full, forty feet deep at its lower end. + +Mr Willows and two men were at one end of the wall when Manners and the +boys climbed on to it that afternoon, to stand in the middle looking up +the valley over the long sheet of water to where it dwindled from some +fifty yards wide to less than as many feet. + +One of the upper sluices was opened, and though the great mill-wheel in +its shed far below was going round at its most rapid rate, urged by the +stream of water which passed along the chute, a good-sized fall was +spurting out by the upper sluice. + +These two exits were, however, not enough to keep the water down, so +rapid was the flow from the hills to swell the stream, and the water in +the great pool still rose. Hence it was that the second sluice was to +be opened, and in a few minutes a third rush added its roar to that of +the other two. Mr Willows stood watching for a few minutes, till he +had satisfied himself by observing the painted marks upon a post that +the water had ceased to rise, and then he walked away, leaving the +others to chat with the men, who hung back for a few minutes after +securing the sluice door, before going down to resume their regular work +in the mill. + +"Not much of a time for trout fishing, Mr Manners, sir," said one of +the men. + +"No," was the reply; "it is all over for the season for me." + +"Suppose so, sir. Have you young gents been below there to have a look +at the eel-box?" + +"Eels?" said Manners. "Ah, I like eels." + +"There'll be plenty to-night, sir; they'll be well on the move after +sundown. I shouldn't be surprised if there was a good take." + +"We ought to be there to see," said Will. "The rains will have brought +them down. It's rare fun catching the slippery beggars. You'll help, +won't you, Mr Manners?" + +"Rather a slimy job," was the reply; "but I'll put on an old coat and +pair of trousers, and come. What time?" + +"About eight o'clock. That'll do," said Will. "Then you can come in to +supper afterwards with us." + +"Right!" was the reply; and that night, prompt to their time, Josh, who +had called at the cottage on his way down, presented himself at the Mill +House garden-gate with Manners, both properly equipped for their +slippery task, and finding Will awaiting their arrival. + +"Come on," he cried; "I thought you didn't mean to come. I hate waiting +in the dark." + +He led the way through the garden to the lower gate by the mill-yard, +and then right along under the buildings to the huge shed built up over +the wheel, which was turning rapidly to the hollow roar of the water +descending the chute to pass into the many receptacles at the end of the +great spokes, before falling with echoing splashes into the square, +stone-built basin below. + +It was close to the exit here that a portion of the great shed had been +devoted to the purpose of an eel-trap, which was most effective in warm, +rainy times when the flooded waters were full of washed-out worms such +as the fat eels loved, but for which they often had to pay very dear, +for it came to pass that they were often carried by the swift waters +into the great stone chute. Then, in all probability, their fate was +sealed, for they would be borne along to the end, writhing and +struggling in vain, only to be carried right over the turning wheel +before falling into the great, square, stone opening below, where +another rushing chute carried them onward into a stout, iron-barred cage +whose bottom and sides were so closely set that only the very small +could wriggle through. The larger collected in a writhing cluster just +where an iron, cage-like door could be opened, and a basket held to +receive the spoil. + +But this particular night, in spite of its promise, showed no +performance. The little party, lantern bearing, descended a flight of +steps, hardly able to make each other hear, so great was the echoing +splash going on around, and stopped at the bottom in a dank, dripping, +stone chamber, close to the floor of the iron cage. + +"How are you going to cook 'em, Mr Manners?" said Will, with his lips +close to his companion's ear. + +"Some stewed, some spitchcocked, and the rest in a pie." + +"Then we're not coming to dine," cried Will, laughing, as he threw the +light of the lantern upon the cage, where there was a wet gleam as +something slowly glided round. + +"Oh, what a shame!" cried Josh. "Why, there's only one!" + +"Yes, only one," said Will, "and it isn't worth while to open this +nasty, wet, slimy door for him." + +"Oh, but there'll be some more," cried Josh; "there's plenty of time. +In about an hour there'll be as many as we can carry." + +"But we are not going to wait in this dreary hole," said Manners. "I +don't enjoy eels when I've got a cold." + +"Oh, no," cried Will; "we will go and have a bit of a walk, and come +down again." + +They drew back from the eel-trap, Will leading the way, and made for a +door in the huge shed, where the lantern was carefully extinguished and +put on a ledge, before they stepped out into the dark night, the closing +of the door behind them shutting in a good deal of the hollow roar, with +its whispering echoes. That which they listened to now was more splash, +rush and hurry, as the wheel turned at greater than its usual speed, and +the overladen dam relieved itself of its contents. + +Still there was too much noise for easy converse, and they tramped on, +Will with the intention of climbing to one of the narrow paths that led +in the direction of the upper stream. + +They were just on a level with the top of the stone dam, when Will +stopped short. The spot he had chosen for his halt was dark as pitch, +for a clump of bushes overhung the way. + +"What's the matter?" said Josh, who came next. + +"Be quiet," replied Will. + +"Anything wrong?" asked the artist, for they blocked his way. + +"N-no," replied Will, dubiously; "only thought I heard something." + +"Thought you heard something!" said Manners. "There's not much think +about it. My ears seem stuffed so full of sounds that I can hardly hear +myself speak. The rushing water and its echoes from up above seem to +fill the air. What did you think you heard?" + +"That's what I don't know," said Will, thoughtfully, with his lips close +to the speaker's ear; "and I can't hear it at all now. It was a dull, +thumping sort of noise." + +"Echo," said Josh. "The wheel's going so much faster round than usual." + +"N-n-no," said Will; "it wasn't like that. I wish I could hear it +again." + +"What for?" said Josh. "What was the matter? Here, I say, which way +shall we go? I know: let's go and see if any of the old owls are out +beating the ivy for birds." + +"There," cried Will, "that's it! You can hear it now! Listen!" + +All stood perfectly still for a few moments. + +"Water, water everywhere, and far too much to drink," said Manners, +spoiling a quotation. "I can't hear anything else." + +"Oh, Mr Manners! Why, there it is, quite plain. You can hear it, +can't you, Josh?" + +"Thumpety, thumpety, thump, thump, thump!" said Josh. "Sounds like +somebody beating a bit of carpet indoors. Why, it's only echoes." + +"Pooh! What could make echoes like that?" + +"The great axle of the wheel worked a little loose in its bearings +through the weight of the water." + +"Nonsense! Can't be that." + +"All right! What is it, then?" + +"Don't know, don't care. It's a nocturnal noise, isn't it, Mr +Manners?" + +"Well, it's a noise," said the artist, "as if someone was hammering with +a wooden mallet. I heard it quite plainly just now, and it seemed to +come from below there, out of the darkness down at the bottom of the +dam." + +"Oh, no," cried Josh, "it was from right up yonder, ever so high." + +"No, no," said Will; "it seemed to me to come from just opposite where +we are standing now." + +"Echo," said the artist, laconically. + +"Yes," said Will; "carried here and there by the wind." + +"Well," said the artist, "the water makes roaring noise enough, without +our listening for echoes. Let's go a bit higher where we can see the +sky. It's horribly dark down here, but the stars are very bright if we +get out of the shadows. What's the matter?" he said sharply, for Will +caught his arm. + +"There it is again," cried the boy. "Somebody must be hammering and +thumping. What can it be?" + +"It's what I said," said Josh; "the bearings of the big wheel are a bit +loose. Who could be hammering and thumping in the darkness? Wouldn't +he have a light?" + +"I don't know," said Will; "but if something's got loose, it ought to be +seen to." + +"But you couldn't do anything in the dark," said Josh. "My word, what a +game it would be if the old wheel broke away! What would happen then?" + +"Once started, I should say it would go spinning down the valley for +miles," said Manners, laughingly. "Just like a Brobdingnagian boy's +hoop gone mad." + +"Ah, I should like to see that by daylight," cried Josh. + +"I shouldn't," said Will, bitterly. "It wouldn't be much fun. There! +now, can you hear it? That thumping?" + +"Yes, I heard it then," said Manners, "and I don't think that there's +any doubt of its being the echo of something giving a thump as the wheel +turns. Is it worth while to go and tell old Jack-of-all-trades +Drinkwater to come and see if anything's wrong?" + +"No," said Josh. "I don't believe he'd come." + +"Perhaps it's nothing to mind," said Will, thoughtfully; "only, working +machinery is such a ticklish thing. There, I can't hear it now." + +They stood listening for quite ten minutes, but the unusual sound was +not renewed. + +"Perhaps it's somebody in the mill," said Will. "Let's go down and +look." + +"All right; anything to fill up time," said Manners, "before we get my +eels. There's no occasion to go up here." + +They descended cautiously through the darkness to the mill-yard, +following Will, who made straight for the door leading into the +machine-room, the fastening yielding to his hand, for few precautions +were used in the shape of bar or bolt in that quiet, retired place; and, +as the door swung back, the three stood gazing into the darkness before +them, listening and feeling. The whole building seemed to thrill with +the vibration caused by the turning wheel, the weight of the water +making the entire building quiver as if it were alive. + +"Rather weird," said Manners. "I never was here before at such a time. +Does the place always throb in this way?" + +"When the wheel is going fast," replied Will, "it gently shakes the +biggest beams." + +"Sounds as if it might shake the place down in time." + +"Oh, no," said Will; "it's too solid for that." + +"Well," said Josh, "there's nobody doing anything here. If there was, +there'd be a light. It was only echoes. Come along." + +"But if it was echoes," said Will, "why did they leave off?" + +"Not so much water coming down perhaps," suggested Manners. "There, +isn't it nearly time to go and see if there are any more eels?" + +"Hardly," replied Will, "but some might have come down. It's just as it +happens." + +"Oh, yes," said Josh. "Sometimes there won't be one in a whole night, +and another time there'll be pounds and pounds in half an hour. It all +depends upon whether they are on the move." + +They made for the lower door again at the bottom of the cage shed, and +entered the hollow, dismal place. Will felt for the lantern after +closing the door, struck a match, and, to the artist's satisfaction, the +rays fell upon several slimy, gleaming objects beyond the bars; and +after a good deal of splashing, writhing, and twining themselves in +knots, the prisoners were secured in a dripping basket that had been +held beneath the opening formed by drawing back the little grating. + +"Capital!" cried Manners, eagerly. "Why, there must be half a dozen +pounds." + +"Nearer a dozen," said Will. "Look out, Josh! Hit that chap over the +head, or he'll be out." + +Josh struck at the basket-lid, but a big, serpent-like creature had half +forced its way through, to be down on the wet stone floor the next +moment, making at once for the water a couple of yards away. + +"Stop him, Mr Manners! It's the biggest one. I can't leave the +basket." + +"And I can't leave the light," said Josh; but, as they spoke, the artist +was in full pursuit, seeing as he did that a delicious morsel was going +to save itself from being turned into human food. + +There was a quick trampling faintly heard on the wet stone floor, +followed by a rush, a glide, a heavy bump, and a roar of smothered +laughter. + +"Yes, it's all very fine, young fellows," growled the artist, as he +gathered himself up; "a nasty, slimy beast! I tried to stop him with my +foot, and it was like the first step made in a skate. Has it gone?" + +"Gone? Yes," cried Josh. "Never mind; there are plenty left. They're +awful things to hold. He would have got away all the same." + +"Not if I'd had a good grip," said Manners. + +"I don't know," said Will. "He might have got a good grip of you. +Those big ones can bite like fun. Are you very wet?" + +"Bah! Abominable mess. This floor's covered with slime." + +"Shall we stop any longer?" + +"No," said the artist; "I've had enough for once. Let's get out in the +open air again, and try and find out what made your noise." + +In a few minutes they were back on the top of the great stone wall that +held the waters back, listening in the darkness amidst the rush and roar +of sluices and chute, supplemented by the distant thunder of the heavy +falls high up the stream, for the peculiar thumping whose repetitions +had caught Will's ears. + +But they listened in vain, and continued their way to Drinkwater's +cottage, where the basket with its living freight was placed, spite of +the artist's protests, in his landlady's hands. + +"Well, I suppose I must keep them," said Manners, "and I will, for this +is about the finish up of our games, lads, for this year." + +He spoke unconsciously. It was; for as soon as the trio had passed from +the dam on their way to the first zig-zag, from out of the darkness at +one end of the dam the strange, weird noise began again. It was as if +heavy blows were being given upon some great iron tool. Now and then +they would cease, but only to go on again for quite two hours, till all +at once a fresh sound arose--a peculiar, whispering gurgle, which +gradually gathered force, to go on increasing through the night; but not +another blow was heard to fall. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +DANGER. + +Will returned to the Mill House that night rather later than he should +have been, after a long chat with the artist, and the first thing he +learned was that his father had gone to bed with a bad headache. + +It was his own time, too, and he hurried up to his bedroom, when, like a +flash, came the recollection of the strange sounds he had heard. It was +too late to go out again, so he opened the window and leaned there, +listening; but from that position he could hear the roar of many +waters--nothing more. + +As a rule, Will's habit was to bang his head down on the pillow and draw +one very deep, long, restful breath, as he stretched himself at full +length, and the next moment he was asleep. + +Somehow, on this particular night, when he went through his customary +movements, the result was that he was more wide-awake than ever. Then +for quite two hours he twisted, turned, stretched himself, yawned, got +out of bed and drank cold water, bathed his face, walked up and down, +tried to count a hundred forwards, then backwards, counting sheep going +through a gap, did everything he could think of, and even thought of +standing upon his head to see if that would do any good; but sleep would +not come. + +"Am I going to be ill?" he asked himself, and while he was waiting for +the answer he dropped off soundly. + +But for no pleasant rest, for it was into nightmare-like dreams of some +great trouble. While he was trying to sleep, all recollection of the +mysterious sounds was in abeyance; but they attacked him again in his +dreams, with this peculiarity, that he seemed to know now exactly where +they were. He was able to locate them precisely. There they were-- +hammer, hammer, hammer, throb, throb, throb, till it was almost +maddening. + +He tried to escape from them; he longed to get away; but there they were +in the deep darkness, hemmed in by the deep booming chorus of the +falling waters--the only part of his dreams that was real. + +For during the whole night, through the sluices, along the chute, and +over the wheel, the waters continued their course, keeping down the +overburdened pool to the same level, for once more heavy rains in the +hills rushed along the stream to augment the supply. + +It was with a feeling of intense relief that the boy woke at last in the +faint dawn of morning, sprang from the bed, and rushed to the open +window again, to thrust his burning brow out into the cool, fresh air. +The beating in his brain was gone, his mind was clear, and he strained +out to try whether he could hear through the roar of falling waters the +hammering that had tormented him all through the night. + +"No," he said, "it's impossible to hear it from this window;" and he +hurriedly dressed, to make his way out and up to the spot where he had +stood with his friends. + +"Nothing now," he said. "Could it have been fancy?" + +He listened for a few minutes longer, and then mounted the rough steps, +to stand on the top of the great stone wall to listen from there once +more, before gazing up the valley and noticing that there were two +little clusters of wild-ducks busily feeding just at the mouth of the +stream where it entered the pool. There was a faint glow in the east, +and flecks of gold high towards the zenith, promises of a glorious day, +and he turned slowly, hesitating as to whether he should go back to bed. + +"No! Rubbish!" he said. "I'll go and rouse up old Josh. Yes, and wake +up Mr Manners, too. He'd like to see this glorious sky--ah! what's +that?" + +That was something unusual which had just caught his eye, for as he +spoke he turned to look right along the top of the dam, where he seemed +to see a strange disturbance on the surface of the water just at the end +where the wall joined the rugged cliff. + +"It must be a great trout," he said, "one that's being beaten against +the stones, and is half-dead. No; I believe it's an otter." + +He ran along the top of the wall and looked down in wonder, to see that +a strange whirlpool seemed to have been formed, where twigs of dead +wood, bits of grass, and autumn leaves were sailing round and round, +before being sucked down a central hole. + +"What does that mean?" he thought; but he acted as well as thought, +going quite to the edge of the wall, and then descending the steep +built-up slope of stones and cemented earth, to where at the base of the +dam-wall he found himself face to face with a sight so suggestive of +peril that he turned at once and ran for the mill. + +For there below, gushing as it were from the bottom of the wall, was a +little stream--a little fount equalling in bulk the tube-like shape +formed by the swirling water he had noticed far above. + +The quantity was small, and quite a tiny stream ran down the valley, +cutting itself a channelled course; but Will knew enough--knew the power +of water, and what such a tiny stream could do. In short, in those +brief moments he had grasped the fact that a dangerous flaw had been +formed in the dam, which, if unchecked, might mean destruction to them +all. + +"Father! Father!" cried Will, rushing into his father's bedroom. + +"I'm afraid it's worse, my boy," was the reply. "I'll lie still for a +few hours and see if my headache passes off." + +"Father, wake up; you don't understand--the water's breaking through the +dam!" + +There was a heavy bump on the floor, which made the wash-hand jug rattle +in the basin, as Mr Willows sprang out of bed, with his headache quite +cured by the nervous shock. + +"Do you mean it? Are you sure?" + +"Yes, father, it's twice as big now as it was when I saw it first." + +"Ah!" ejaculated Mr Willows, and he stood for a moment with brow knit +and fists clenched, like a man gazing inwards. + +"Run to the big bell, boy, and pull with all your might!" + +"Yes, father. Is it very dan--" + +"Run! Act!" was the reply, and in a few seconds the great bell was +sending its notes in what seemed to the boy a harsh jangle, such as he +had never heard before. + +Rung at such a time and in such a manner, it carried but one message to +those who heard--Danger!--and in a very short time the work-people came +hurrying from the cottages which formed a scattered village down the +vale, to where their master was standing on a block of stone where he +could be well seen, waiting to give his orders. + +"You, Dacey," he shouted to the first man, "take one of the horses-- +don't stop to saddle--and gallop right down the vale, giving the +warning. Stop nowhere--shout as you go by each cottage, `The dam +bursts!'" + +The man was off, and, while Willows was giving fresh orders, the clatter +of the horse's hoofs was heard, and the man passed out of sight. +Meanwhile, from the directions Willows was giving, the alarm was +spreading fast, men's voices giving it everywhere. + +There were a few women's shrieks heard, children began to cry, and there +was wild excitement about the Mill House. Women's voices, too, were +heard remonstrating, and words were uttered about saving this or that; +but Willows rushed up to the first group, and shouted-- + +"Silence, there! Save your lives! Up the sides as fast as you can, and +as high as you can climb. At any moment the dam may be washed away like +so much salt. Think of nothing but your lives!" + +A wild yearning cry full of despair arose at this, but the master's +words went home, and the next minute the hurried scrambling of feet was +heard, as women, carrying their children, began to climb up the sides of +the vale, dragged and pushed up by the menfolk, in whose faces were seen +reflected the looks of their chief; but to a man they were grim and +stern; and all the while, harsh, wild and strange, bringing down as it +were a shower of echoes of its tones, the great bell rang on, swung to +and fro, and over and over under the feverish impulse given by Will's +untiring arms. + +So effective were the commands, so deeply imbedded in every breast was +the knowledge of what might happen, that the time seemed short before +Mr Willows could draw breath and feel satisfied that the weaker portion +of the community were in safety. + +"Now," he cried, "you who are old, and all you boys, follow the women. +No words--Go! Now, my lads, you who are ready to work, let's see what +we can save. But, mind, it must be one eye for what you are doing and +one for yon tottering wall." + +"Why, master," shouted the north-country man, "I don't see nowt. She'll +stand for long after we are passed away. Aren't this all a skear?" + +"No!" cried Willows, fiercely. "The strong dam is wounded, and the +place is bleeding fast. Here, Will," he shouted, "leave that bell!" + +"Oh, father," cried the boy, as he ran up, "don't send me away at a time +like this." + +"I am not going to, my boy; I want you to be my strong right hand. Now +then, I shall not be with you, so watch for your safety and that of +those who are with you. Take four men, and save the books first, then +the chest, and all you can that is easiest to move. Scatter the things +anywhere that they will lodge, as soon as they are higher than the dam. +Off with you! Work for your lives! One more word of warning! When the +wall goes, if go it does, it will be with one mighty rush, sweeping +everything away. Now, six men with me!" + +All the rest rushed to him, and he told off the number he required. + +"You others," he cried, "you have heard what I've said. Off with you, +and try to save your most treasured possessions--by _your_, I mean those +of your neighbours and yourselves. At a time like this all must be in +common, as it shall be when, if, please God, we escape, I will try to +make up to you for what you have lost. Off! Now, my lads, every man +lift and bear as big a stone as you can. Follow me!" + +The next minute, headed by their chief, a line of men, like ants from a +disturbed hill, were seen staggering beneath their burdens up the rugged +steps to the top of the dam. + +"Phew! This here's a heavy one!" panted the north-country man as they +reached the top. "Say, maister, it'll be dangerous to be safe for us if +the wall goes now." + +The words were uttered in such a cheery tone, that, in spite of their +peril, a hearty laugh rose from the party, and, as Mr Willows paused +for a moment to gaze downward and see how on both the steep sides of the +valley his commands were being carried out, a grim smile for a moment +relaxed his tightened lips. + +"Now," he cried, "do as I do," as he bent himself to his task, and +stepping to the end of the wall where the whirlpool seen first by Will +had begun to look more worthy of its name--for it was three times as +swift and mighty as at its birth--he leaned forward and softly dropped +in the great stone he carried, and stood back to let the others follow +suit. + +"It seems a mere nothing," he said, as the last stone was cast, "but it +is all that we can do, and we must keep on." + +"Ahoy, there!" came from the opposite end just then. "What's the +matter, Mr Willows?" and the burly figure of the artist came hurrying +across the dam. "Not safe?" + +There was another hail, and the Vicar came hurrying down the path, +preceded by his son. + +"Why, Willows," he cried, breathlessly, "surely the dam is not giving +way?" + +"Oh, father!" faltered Josh. "It must be that--that--" + +"What do you mean, boy? Speak!" + +"It is something to do with the noise we all heard last night." + +At that moment, with the rising sun shining full upon his fierce, +contracted face and glistening bald head, Drinkwater stood leaning out +from the farther bank, holding tightly with one hand to an overhanging +birch, and if ever countenance wore a fiendish smile, it was his. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +THE GREAT PERIL. + +The Vicar had no chance to ask Josh what he had heard, for the boy had +rushed on to the dam, regardless of any danger that might be near, to +reach Mr Willows, to whom he clung breathless and exhausted from his +efforts to answer the summons of the bell. + +"Where's Will?" he cried, earnestly. "Where's Will?" + +"Safe, boy, safe," replied Willows, huskily. "Back to the side. It's +dangerous here." + +"I only wanted to know where Will was. I don't mind now. I'm going to +stop and help." + +"Ahoy, there! Drinkwater!" shouted the north-country man. "Come on! +Here's lots to do. This is bigger job than putting t'fire oot." + +The man addressed heard the appeal, shaded his eyes for a moment with +his hand, and as if influenced by the strong man's words, came slowly +down from his place of vantage to join the group, which now set to work +loosening the stones near the top of the dam, to carry them to the wall +end and pitch or roll them down into the weakened part. + +For a full half-hour all worked as men had never worked before, +conscious the while that those they loved were gathered at each end of +the threatened wall high up in safely, and watching their efforts to +save the mill. But at the end of that half-hour Willows suddenly +stepped to where the Vicar and Manners were toiling like the rest, the +latter, with dripping face, displaying his giant strength. + +"Stop!" he cried. "The dam is bound to go! Labour in vain! We are +sure to have some warning. All follow to the mill. Let's save there +all we can." + +There was a hearty cheer at this, and the jocose weaver shouted-- + +"Now, them's the words I like. We'd have stopped till the old dam +burst, but speaking for self and family, ah'd say I'd reather not." + +There was another good-humoured roar at this, but it was mingled with a +sigh of relief, and a swift walk was soon hastened into a run, till all +were gathered in a fairly safe position above the mill, where they +paused to breathe. + +Willows and his friends came last, the former standing smiling to see +the stack of household treasures Will and his helpmates had piled up. + +"Well done, my lads!" he cried. "We've come to help you now." + +"Have you saved the dam, father?" cried Will, excitedly. + +There was a look of resignation on the father's face, as he gazed in his +son's eyes and slowly shook his head. + +"Ahoy, there! Drinkwater! Ahoy! What are you hinging back there for?" +shouted the north-country man. "More wuck to do. Come on and help." + +All eyes were directed now to a solitary figure standing on the top of +the great stone wall as if inspecting the damaged spot. + +"What's he stopping there for?" cried the Vicar, excitedly. + +"Why, Drinkwater, my lad," shouted Willows, between his hands, "you +can't stay there. Come over to us here. Quick, man! Quick!" + +The old fellow turned and shaded his eyes again, gazing fiercely at the +speaker, and, as he lowered his hand and came slowly towards them, Will +noticed that across his white brow there was a broad mark of blood. + +"Father, look," he whispered, hoarsely; "what does that mean?" + +"A mark from his hands, my boy. He must have worn them raw. Poor +fellow! He has been like a hero in this strife." + +The man came down, still slowly, and then ascended to where the group +were awaiting further orders; but when these orders came, and with a +rush the workers formed a line from the mill up to a shelf-like path +where by no possibility could the pent-up water rise if the dam gave +way, and began handing up rapidly bale after bale of finished silk, and +mighty skeins of twisted thread, he did not stir a hand, but stood with +the stain upon his brow, leaning against a corner of the mill, +apparently exhausted, and never once taking his eyes from his master. + +For a full hour the men worked on, cheering loudly as the announcement +was made that the wareroom was empty; and then a rush was made for the +Mill House, where in turn all that was portable and good was borne away. +Then came the end. + +For a long while past Willows and his friends had ceased to give any +thought to the worldly goods, standing together intently watching for +the danger they felt must come, and watching as it were in vain; for, +save its ragged edge, from whence stones had been torn, the green and +mossy old wall stood intact. The sluices still roared; along the great +chute a solid-looking mass of crystal water rushed and gleamed and +flashed before it bent over in a glorious curve to plunge on to the +wheel and break in spray, while the men laughed and joked merrily, as +they made a play of their heavy toil and shouted gaily to the two groups +of watchers--their wives and children and work-mates--who shouted +encouragingly back. + +And all at once, as if hoping to lighten their labours--lovers of music +as these people are--a shrill, musical, woman's voice arose, starting a +familiar chorus, which was taken up directly by the young, to rise and +fall and swell along the valley, the sweet soprano tones supported by +the roaring waters' heavy bass. + +"Bravo! Bravo!" shouted the Vicar, huskily, and as he spoke Will +noticed that his voice sounded strange, and in the glance he obtained he +noted that his eyes were filled with tears. + +The next minute he was hurrying up towards his people, walking-stick in +hand, to leap upon a stone where he could be well seen by the choral +singers on either side of the vale, and there for about a minute he +stood, waving his baton-like stick, conducting his strange double choir, +who sang more loudly their cheery mill-song, and at their best, till in +an instant, like a thunderclap, there was a sharp report, the song +became a wail of agony, and the voice of the master was heard above all, +crying-- + +"For your lives, men, run!" + +It could only have been for a few seconds, during which nothing seemed +to happen save that there was the patter and scramble of many feet as +with one accord all seemed to have made for safety, while, as that haven +was reached, all turned their eyes towards the dam, to look in wonder, +seeking as they did in vain for the cause of that sharp report. + +Another or two of those strangely drawn-out seconds passed, and then the +watchers had their reward. The great, green, mossy wall, with all its +luxuriance of orange-tinted bracken and golden fern, seemed to shiver as +if touched by a passing wind. Then the quivering motion ceased, the +whole centre crumbled softly down, and it was as if some huge, hoary +monster, a living earthquake, had leaped from the prison in which it was +bound, to spring upon its prey--the great mill buildings below. + +One moment all were there intact; the next they were gone, and in their +place a mighty river of water was tearing down the vale with a hiss and +roar that struck the gazers dumb; and then a great gap was visible where +the vast dam-wall had been, the pool was empty, there was little more +than a stream, and the roaring monster that had swept all before it +could be heard gnashing, raging and destroying, far away below. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +FIGHTING THE DESTROYER. + +An awful hush of silence. It seemed as if it was too much for human +brain to bear. The breath was held pent-up in every breast, so that it +might have been the dwelling-place of the dumb. + +Then the Vicar's voice was heard, and the sound thereof was like the key +that opened a closed-up door. + +"Where's Mr Willows?" he shouted. + +"Here!" came from close at hand, followed by, "And who has seen Will?" + +"Here--close by me," cried Manners. + +"Josh! Josh!" shouted Will. + +"Here! Here! All right!" + +"Then everyone is safe," cried the boy. "No, no, no!" he shouted, in +anguished tones. "Where's poor old Boil O? He was there just now, +standing by that corner. No, no! there is no corner--everything has +gone. Oh, surely he can't be drowned!" + +There was no reply, but, headed by Willows, a strong party of the men +followed him and the boys down the track of the mighty torrent--a +clean-swept path of stone, for mill, house, sheds, cottages, the whole +of the tiny village was not! + +There was nothing to impede their way for fully half a mile, and there, +in a deep curve down in the valley, in a turgid stream still running +fast, lay in wild confusion, baulk and beam, rafter and mass of +swept-down stone, the relics of the water's prey. + +In his excitement Willows was the first to reach this pool; but Will was +close behind, near enough to stretch out a hand to try an check him as +he tore off his coat, rushed to the edge, stepped on to one stone, and +leaped to another and another projecting above the surface, before +plunging in and swimming towards where a pile of timbers were crushed +together with the water foaming by. + +"What's he going to do?" cried Manners, panting as he came up. + +"I don't know," cried the boy, wildly. "Oh, Mr Manners, help me--he'll +be drowned!" + +As the boy spoke he followed his father's example, to leap from stone to +stone and finally plunge in, trying almost vainly to swim, for the +foaming water gave but the poorest support. There were stones, too, +everywhere, hewn blocks and others that had been torn from their native +beds; but somehow, helped by the stream, Will reached the spot at length +where he could see his father, apparently helpless, clinging to the +naked roots of a swept-down tree as if for his very life. + +"Father!" cried the boy, as he anchored himself in turn, and gazing in +horror in the staring eyes that met his own. "What shall I do?" he +cried. + +But help was near, and the despairing feeling that was overcoming poor +Will died out as the gruff, familiar voice of Manners just behind +cried-- + +"Hold on, Will, lad! That's right! I've got him tight! Why, Willows, +man, what's gone wrong?" + +He whom he addressed turned his eyes slowly to give the speaker an +appealing look, and then they closed, the head dropped back, the surging +waters swept over the face, and, but for the artist's sturdy arm, it +would have gone ill indeed; but the next moment the fainting man's head +was raised and rested on the artist's shoulder. + +"He must be badly hurt, Will. But all right; I've got him safe, and +I'll soon take him to the shore." + +"Here, let me take one side," cried Will. + +"Nonsense, dear lad! Stay as you are." + +"I can't," cried Will; "I must help. He is my father, and I must and +will!" + +"That's right, my boy, but on my word you can't. I am a strong man, I +believe, but it is all I can do to hold my own. If you leave go you'll +be swept away, and your father will be drowned; for I tell you now, I +couldn't stop by him and see you go." + +Will gazed at him blankly, and for a few moments that group in the midst +of the tangle of broken timber and jagged root hung together, boy and +man staring into each other's eyes. + +"Will, dear lad," said the artist, at last, "we are good old friends. +Trust and believe in me. I'll save your father if I can. If I don't, +it is because I can't, and I've gone too. Promise me you'll hold on +there till I come back, or some of your friends come down. They must +know how we are fixed. Will you do what I say? I am speaking as your +father would. Hold on where you are." + +"Would he say that?" gasped Will, faintly. + +"He would, I vow." + +Will bowed his head, and the next moment he was clinging there, to the +clean-washed roots of the uptorn tree, watching the heads of father and +friend being rapidly swept-down the stream, while the waters were +surging higher and higher about his breast, for the depression was being +filled rapidly by the undammed stream. + +"To be alone like this!" groaned Will. "Why didn't I swim with them and +try to help?" + +He spoke aloud, his words sounding like a long-drawn moan; and then he +started, for an echo seemed to come from close at hand, heard plainly +above the rushing of the stream. His next thought was that it was +fancy, but, as the idea flitted through his brain in silence, there was +the moan again from somewhere at the back. + +It was the faint cry of someone in grievous peril, and it drove out self +from the generous boy's breast. Someone wanted help, and he was strong +and hearty still. It took but little time to find out whence the +deep-toned moaning came. It was from out of a jagged mass of broken +timbers, whose ends were anchored among the stones, and through them the +rising waters were rushing fast. + +It was like turning from a great peril into dangers greater far, but the +boy never thought of that. He measured the distance with his eyes, and +came to the conclusion that he could pass hand by hand through the +waters, among the roots, till he was straight above the swaying timbers. +To swim would be impossible, he knew; but he felt that he could let +himself go, be carried those few yards, catch at one or other of the +timbers, and hold on there. + +As he finished thinking, he drew a deep breath, felt stronger than ever, +and began to act. + +Reaching out with his right hand, he got a grip of the nearest root, let +go with his left, and in an instant, he felt as if the water had seized +him, and was trying to tear his right arm out of the socket. The jerk +was numbing, but he got a grip with his left hand, and tried again and +again, till he lay on his back, his arms outstretched above his head, +his feet pointing straight at the chaos of timbers, took another deep +breath, and then let go. + +There was a quick, gliding motion, and his feet struck against one big +beam, slipped right over it, and the next minute he was in the very +centre of the tangle, while his progress was checked for a sufficiently +long time for him to get a good hold, and feel that for the time being +he was safe. His breath was coming and going fast, though, from the +excitement as well as exertion. And then it was almost in horror that +his heart seemed to stand still. It was a momentary sensation, and it +gave way to a feeling of joy, for there, close at his side, so near that +he could touch, was the grim, upturned face of Drinkwater, with eyes +staring wildly into his. He, too, was clinging with all his might to +one of the broken timber baulks, and, as his eyes met Will's, he uttered +a piteous, gasping cry, and murmured the one word-- + +"Help!" + +That appeal went straight to the boy's heart, and seemed to nerve him +for his task. + +"Help? Yes!" he cried. "I've come to bring you help;" and then a pang +shot through his breast as he spoke his next words. "Mr Manners was +here just now, and he'll soon be back." + +Would, he asked himself, as he thought of his father, those words prove +true? + +"Cheer up, old fellow!" he cried, and he felt stronger still. + +Here was something he could do. + +"Can you raise yourself a little higher?" he said, for the rising water +lapped in a wave nearly to the sufferer's mouth. + +"No, no," said the man, faintly; "I'm gripped between two timbers fast +by the legs. There, I feel better now. Ah, Will, lad, I am glad you +have come! I can think and see all now. That burning pain has gone +from my head, and it's all quite clear. And how just and right all is, +if we could always only see." + +"Yes, yes, of course," cried Will, cheerily; "but keep a good heart. +They'll come and help us soon. But I want to see you higher up; the +water's getting deeper, and you must raise your head." + +The man smiled softly in his face; his old grim and savage look had +gone, and, after making a vain effort, his head sank back so low that +the water swept right over his nostrils, and, fast held as he was, he +must have drowned; but in an instant Will shifted his position, took +another grip, and forced his legs beneath him till his knees were below +the prisoner's shoulders, wedging him up so that he could breathe freely +once more. + +"There, that's better," cried Will, hoarsely. "You'll be all right +now." + +"Yes, for a few minutes, lad, but the end is near, and it's all quite +right. Will, lad, I used to make toys for you, when you were a little +child, and, when you grew bigger, I used to let you spoil my tools, for +I never had bairn of my own, and, after my way, I somehow got to love +you, lad. And then, I must have gone kinder sorter mad. That burning +pain came in my head. I can see it all clearly now, just at the last. +I got cursing the best of masters that ever stepped, and one night in a +mad fit, I tried to burn him out of house and home; but when I saw the +dear old mill a-fire, I couldn't bear it, and fought, like the madman I +was, to put it out--and did. Then it all came back again worse and +stronger than before. I felt that I must do it--and did. `The fire +fails,' I said, `but the water wins. It made him a rich man'--your good +father, boy--`and now it shall make him poor. My revenge!' I said. +Yes, my revenge! Last night, Will--tell him this when I am gone--I got +down by the bottom of the dam and worked with mallet and long crowbar, +as I had worked night after night before, till the water began to run +just in one little tiny trickle. And then I stopped. Water--my slave +then--I knew would do the rest. And it has, lad, just as I thought, +given me my revenge, as I called it, but turned and slain me too. Well, +it was right it should be so. I know it now. Tell him--my good old +master--all that I have said, and ask him to forgive me, if he can, for +I know it now--I must have been mad." + +He ceased speaking, and lay quite still with his eyes gazing sadly in +the son's face, while a feeling of horror and repulsion was gathering +strongly in the lad's breast, till the wretched being spoke again, with +the water once more gathering closely about his lips. + +"Now then," he said, "you know the truth. It's all over Will, lad. But +for you, I should have been drowned before. You are young and strong; I +know you can swim. This water's nowt to you. Go, dear lad, and save +your life. Don't look back once to see me die. It would come harder if +I thought you did. There," he gasped, as a wave lapped close to his +lips once more, "think of your own self now. I have had my day, and +ended badly. Your time has all to come. Will, lad, bad as I have been, +can you grip my hand once more?" + +"Only in my heart! If I let go, we both shall drown. There! Cheer up! +Help must come soon." + +"Not for me. Quick, swim for your life. Good-bye!" + +"What, and leave you here to drown? Not if I know it!" + +"What, after all that I have done?" + +"Yes; I couldn't leave you even now. I tell you, help must come, and-- +there, what did I say?" + +At that moment, the artist's cheery voice sounded from close at hand, +and, directly after, he and two more of the mill hands were helping to +free the wretched prisoner from his wooden bonds. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +THE STORY TOLD. + +The alarm had so spread, carried as the disaster was by the galloping +messenger from the mill, as well as by the flood itself, that help was +pouring in from all quarters, and as soon as the sufferers were borne +dripping and senseless from the water, scores of hands were ready to +bear them into shelter, where doctors soon declared that there was no +further danger to fear. + +John Willows, as he lay on a couch grasping his son's hand, hurriedly +explained his action when he had dashed into the flood, for he had +caught sight of Drinkwater for a moment, and seen that he was in peril +of his life, but it was only to nearly lose his own, for he had been +caught between two heavy beams sailing with the rapid current, and been +so crushed that insensibility came on. + +As for Drinkwater, he lay calm and sensible, like a man just recovering +from some long illness, and there was a look of pathetic wonder in his +eyes that he was still alive which was pitiful to see. + +"No wonder," said one of the doctors; "he's been within an inch of +losing his life; but in a few days he will be all right again;" and his +words proved true. + +That same afternoon the man was carried by friendly hands up to his own +cottage, which, of course, lay high above the broken dam, while others +formed a kind of litter upon which Mr Willows was borne up to the +Vicarage, which he was bidden to consider his home. So that, after the +horrors of the morning, as the various employes found shelter or +returned to their uninjured homes, a strange feeling of peace began to +reign. + +It was quite evening when Josh and Will descended to Drinkwater's +cottage, Will having declared himself none the worse for all that he had +gone through, and, as his father was sleeping calmly, and the boy was +looking strained and white, Mr Carlile agreed that the fresh air would +do him good. + +"Tell Mr Manners," he said, "that we have plenty of room here, and that +I should be glad if he will join us, and so leave the cottage to its +owner, and his wife's hands tree. You understand, Josh. Be insistent, +and tell him that if he does not come I shall feel quite hurt." + +"Yes, father, I understand," cried Josh, and the boys set off. "I +wonder," said Josh, "that old Toadstool has not been up." + +"Oh, he meant kindly," said Will. "He was afraid of disturbing us, for +I heard the doctor tell him that father must be kept very quiet for a +day or two." + +They reached the cottage, which looked as attractive as ever in its nest +of flowers; but, as they approached, they saw no sign of the artist, and +they were about to go up to the door when they heard a voice from one of +the open bedroom windows, and both stopped short as the words struck +their ears. + +It was Mrs Drinkwater speaking, and her voice was half-choked with +sobs, so that her words were indistinct. But Will caught this-- + +"Don't, don't say more. I have nothing to forgive you. It is enough +for me that you are your own dear self again." + +The boys stole away on tiptoe, Will saying, huskily: "We can't disturb +them now. Let's go and look at the broken dam." + +Josh stopped short to peer into his companion's face. + +"Can you stand it, Will?" he said. + +The boy was silent for a few moments, and then, after making an effort +to clear his voice-- + +"Yes," he said, but very huskily. "Everybody has been saved, and I am +going to try and bear it like--well, like a man." + +"Hooray!" cried Josh, softly. "But I say, what can have become of old +Manners?" And then, with a hearty laugh, "I say! Oh, just look there!" + +He pointed in the direction of a verdant shelf overlooking the +clean-swept vale; and there, beneath his white umbrella, sat the object +of their search, calmly smoking his big black briar pipe, contemplating +the ruins of the dam and a small pile of stones, the only vestige of the +vanished mill. + +"Why, here you are," cried Josh. + +"Ah, boys," he said, sadly. "But you, Will, ought not you to be in +bed?" + +"Bed?" cried the boy, scornfully. "What for? Josh lent me a suit of +his clothes, and I'm quite dry now." + +"Oh, yes," said Manners; "so am I, but I feel as if I could make a +handkerchief precious wet by blubbering like a great, weak girl." + +"Oh, don't worry about it," cried Will. "Think how we've all been +saved. Father's in the best of heart, and he says as soon as he's well +that he'll set to and build the whole place up bigger and better than it +was before." + +"Yes," said Josh, "I heard him; and he said, too, that he could do it +with a better heart in his thankfulness that not a life was lost." + +"Ah, yes," said Manners, sadly, "that's quite right, boys; but when you +came I wasn't thinking about that, but about my own loss." + +"Oh," said Will. "You mean about the place being so spoiled?" + +"No, I don't," said the artist, gruffly. "I was thinking about my +pictures--twelve canvases, a whole year's work, washed right away, dead, +as it were, and buried under some heap of stones. Ah, boys, they were +only so much painted cloth, and I'm afraid they were very bad, but it +was all so much work that was somehow very dear to me, and--bah! Never +say die! I'll begin again like your father, and build up something +fresh." + +For some days Will paced about the devastated scene, looking white and +strange--like one who had a burden on his mind. + +The Vicar noticed it, and spoke to the doctor when he came to see his +patient. + +"Oh, yes," said the doctor; "I saw it at once. Shock, my dear sir-- +shock! The poor boy has a deal to bear, but a young, elastic, healthy +chap like that will soon come round." + +Josh mentioned it, too, in confidence to his father, saying-- + +"I don't like poor Will's looks. He's so white and strange." + +But, on hearing the doctor's words, he said-- + +"Well, he ought to know. We must wait." + +He had not long to wait. A few days later, Will was himself again, for +the burden was off his mind. He had rested till he thought that his +father was well enough to hear what he had to say, and then, alone by +his bedside, he repeated almost word for word the confession Drinkwater +had made. + +Mr Willows listened silently right to the end, and then, after a long +silence, he lay holding his son's hand clasped between his own. + +"Horrible, indeed, my boy," he said, gently. + +"Yes, horrible, indeed, father. What shall you do?" + +There was another spell of silence before Mr Willows spoke again. + +"Forgive, my boy," he said, "as I hope to be forgiven. What did he say +when he believed he was a dying man--that he was mad? Those must have +been the words of truth." + +They were, for the time passed on, and as the new mill rose, James +Drinkwater was one of the busiest hands, restoring the place to its old +working state, a man completely changed, the most faithful worker about +the establishment. + +"It is our joint secret, Will, my boy," said his father. "Let it rest." + +And it has rested until now, when, long years after the Drinkwaters have +been laid to their rest, and Manners, the artist, has ceased to visit +the beautiful vale, the story of Will of the Mill is told. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Will of the Mill, by George Manville Fenn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILL OF THE MILL *** + +***** This file should be named 21376.txt or 21376.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/3/7/21376/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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