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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. "How You Have Growed, Lads; How You Have Growed!" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. "HOW YOU HAVE GROWED, LADS; HOW YOU HAVE GROWED!"
I am going to jump over three years now, and come to an exciting time when we lads were leaving school at midsummer for good. Those were exciting times, and we all were as much infected as the rest of English folk, for we were at war with France, and there was drumming, and fifing, and enlisting, and men marching off to join their regiments, and we boys were fully determined to arrange with our respected fathers as soon as we got home to get us all commissions in cavalry regiments, and failing commissions, we meant to petition for leave to enlist to fight for our country. Bob Chowne and I of course knew better, but in spite of this knowledge we were constantly feeling that there was something wrong with our companion Bigley. He was just the same easy-going fellow as of old; ready to submit to any amount of bullying and impertinence from us, except in times of emergency, when he would quietly step to the front in the place Bob and I shirked, and do what there was to be done, and as soon as it was over go back patiently into the second rank, leaving us in the front. But as I say, though we knew better, it always seemed to us as if something particular had taken place in Bigley, he who used to tower above us, a big fellow with whiskers, a deep voice, and broad shoulders, had now shrunk, so that he was no longer like a man and we both like small boys, for he seemed to have come down so that he was only a trifle taller than we were, and very little broader across the chest. It was the whiskers and the thick down upon his chin which made nearly all the difference. We used to laugh about it together, and Bigley would say that it was rum, and only because he had started two years sooner than we did--that was all. Of course the fact was that Bigley had not shrunk in the least. He had not come down, but Bob Chowne and I had levelled matters by growing up, so that at seventeen we were as big as Devon lads of that age know how to be. While we had changed, old Teggley Grey had not. He always seemed to have been the same ever since we could remember, and his horse too, but he shook his head at us. "Mortal hard work for a horse to carry such big chaps as you. How you have growed, lads; how you have growed!" I looked at him as he spoke, and it seemed to me that it was he who had changed. But it did not matter; we were full of plans for the future. Big as we were, we could take plenty of interest in fishing and such other sport as came in our way, and we were talking eagerly about what was to be done first, and how we were to contrive it without having some mishap, when old Teggley summoned us to get down and walk. "Wouldn't be acting like a Christian to ask a horse to drag you three big lads up a hill like this. I did think," he grumbled, "that with all this talk about making good roads, something would have been done to level ourn. Mortal bad they be for a horse sewer_ly_." "Why, what could you do to the roads?" I said, as I stood on the step looking at the quaint old fellow. "Do, lad? Why, there's plenty of stuff ar'n't there? Cutoff all the tops of the hills, and lay in the bottoms, and there you are, level road all the way." We seemed to have only been away a few days, as, after parting from Bigley, Bob and I reached the cottage, where, just as of old, were my father and the doctor. I remember thinking that they both looked a little older and greyer, but that was all. But that was soon forgotten in the interest and excitement of what was going on around me, for I had, I found, gradually been growing older, and ready to take an interest in matters more important than hunting prawns and groping for crabs down on the rocky shore. _ |
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