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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 41. A Man's Pursuits |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY ONE. A MAN'S PURSUITS The boys watched beside the dog till past ten o'clock, when the Colonel came in and examined the bandages. "Set quite hard," he said, "and he's sleeping fast enough. Nature always seems kind to injured animals. They curl up and go to sleep till they're better." "Then you think he'll get better, sir?" said Joe. "Can't say, my boy; but you had better be off home to bed." "Yes, sir," said Joe. "Coming part of the way with me, Gwyn?" Gwyn glanced at his father before saying yes, for he expected to hear an objection. But the Colonel's attention was fixed upon the dog. "Let him sleep," he said; "he'll be all right here till morning." "But if he stirs, he may fall off the cistern and hurt himself again, father." "No fear, my boy. I don't suppose he will attempt to move all night. There, off with you, Gwyn, if you are going part of the way." The boys followed the Colonel out of the vinery, the door was shut, and the ascending lane leading to the Major's house was soon reached, and then the rugged down. "Precious dark," said Gwyn; but there was no answer. "Sleep, Jolly?" said Gwyn, after a few moments. "Eh? No; I was thinking. I say, though, how precious dark it is;" for they could not see a dozen yards. "Yes, but what were you thinking about?" "The dog." "Oh, yes, of course, so was I; but what about him?" said Gwyn, sharply. "How he got hurt?" "Chopped in the man-engine. You heard." "Yes, but I don't believe it." "Here's a miserable unbeliever," said Gwyn, mockingly. "How did he get hurt, then?" "Someone did it." "Oh, nonsense! It isn't likely. The machine did it, same as it would you or me if we weren't careful." "But that wasn't how poor old Grip was hurt." "How then?" "I feel sure he was hurt with an iron bar." "Why, who would hurt him in that brutal way?" "Someone who hated him." "Gammon!" "Very well--gammon, then. But when did we see him last?" "Last? Last? Oh, I know; when we went to the smelting-house to find Tom Dinass." "Well, we left him behind there. The door must have swung-to and shut him in." "Then you think Tom Dinass did it." "Yes, I do." "Then I say it's all prejudice. Tom's turning out a thoroughly good fellow. See how willing he was over the fishing, and how he helped us this evening. You're always picking holes in Tom Dinass's coat. What's that?" A peculiar loud sneeze rang out suddenly from across the rough moorland to their right, where the blocks of granite lay thick. "Tom Dinass," said Joe, in a whisper; and he stepped quickly behind a block of stone, Gwyn involuntarily following him. "That's his way of sneezing," whispered Joe. "What's he doing over here to-night?" The boys stood there perfectly silent; and directly after there was a faint rustling, and the figure of a man was seen upon the higher ground against the skyline for a minute or so, as he passed them, crossing their track, and apparently making for the cliffs. Their view was indistinct, but the man seemed to be carrying something over his shoulder. Then he was gone. "Going congering," said Gwyn. "He's making for the way down the rocks, so as to get to the point." "He wouldn't go congering to-night," said Joe. "We gave him as much fish as he'd want." "Going for the sport of the thing." "Down that dangerous way in the dark?" "I daresay he knows it all right, and it saves him from going round by the fishermen's cottages--half-a-mile or more." "'Tisn't that," said Joe. "What an obstinate old mule you are, Jolly," cried Gwyn, impatiently; "you don't like Tom Dinass, and everything he does makes you suspicious." "Well, do you like him?" "No; but I don't always go pecking at him and accusing him of smashing dogs' legs with iron stoking-bars. It wouldn't be a man who would do that; he'd be a regular monster." "Let's go and see what he's after," said Joe. "What, late like this in the dark?" "Yes; you're not afraid are you? I want to know what he's about. I'm sure he's doing something queer." "I'm not afraid to go anywhere where you go," said Gwyn, stoutly; "but of all the suspicious old women that ever were, you're getting about the worst." "Come along, then." "All right," said Gwyn; "but if he finds us watching him throwing out a conger-line, he'll break our legs with an iron bar and pitch us off the cliff." "Yes, you may laugh," said Joe, thoughtfully, "but I'm sure Tom Dinass is playing some game." "Let's go and play with him, then. Only make haste, because I must get back." Joe led the way cautiously off to their left, in and out among the stones and patches of furze and bramble, till they neared the edge of the cliff, when they went more and more cautiously, till a jagged piece of crag stood up, showing where the precipice began; and to the left of this was the rather perilous way by which an active man could get down to the mass of tumbled rocks at the cliff foot, and from there walk right out on the western point which sheltered the cove from the fierce wind and waves. "All nonsense, Jolly," whispered Gwyn after they had stood for a few moments gazing down at where the waves broke softly with a phosphorescent light. "I won't go." But as the boy spoke there was a loud clink from far below, as if an iron bar had struck against a stone, and the lad's heart began to beat hard with excitement. Then all was silent again for nearly five minutes, and the darkness, the faint, pale, lambent light shed by the waves, and the silence, produced a strange shrinking sensation that was almost painful. "Shall we go down?" said Joe, in a whisper. "And break our necks? No, thank you. There, come back, he has only gone to set a line for conger." "Hist!" whispered Joe, for at that moment, plainly heard, there came up to where they stood a peculiar thumping sound, as of a mason working with a tamping-iron upon stone. "Now," whispered Joe. "What does he mean by that?" _ |
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