"It'd take a month," said the gardener, as Glyn was coming up. "Don't
tell me! Should think I know more about wells than you do. Fast as you
take a bucketful out another one runs in. You go and tell him that if
he means to have the old well emptied we shall want half-a-dozen men,
for we could never do it by oursens."
"Yah!" cried Wrench; "such fellows as you gardeners are. It's always
the same old tune: more help, more help.--Hear him, Mr Severn, sir? I
expect the water isn't so clear as it has been, and the Doctor says he
will have the well emptied and cleaned out.--Look here, Taters, you can
go and tell the Doctor that if you like; I am going to work."
"Oh, I shan't tell him," growled the gardener. "I aren't afraid of a
bit of wuck; only, mark my words, as I says again, it'd take a month."
The unusual task did not take a month; but after a hard day's toil so
little progress had been made, and Wrench's indoor work had come to such
a standstill, that the Doctor gave orders for the gardener to get the
assistance of a couple of labouring men, when the water was so much
lowered at the end of the next day that unless a great deal filtered in
during the coming night there was a fair prospect of the bottom being
reached before long.
By a tacit understanding with the Doctor, Glyn was excused from lessons
during the clearing out of the well, and spent his time watching the
emptying of every bucketful as it was wound slowly up; and it was put
about by Slegge that Glyn had been planted there by the Doctor to keep
the juniors off for fear any of them should tumble down.
It was an anxious task for the boy, who had to resist appeal after
appeal made by Singh to come and join him in some sport or go for a
walk. But Glyn kept fast to his post, watching in vain, and without
much hope, for if the case was there it would probably be sunk in the
mud. One hour he found himself full of faith in the belief that there
was something in his dream, and the next he thought that it was all
nonsense.
And so the days passed on, with Glyn paying constant visits to the
well-house, where Wrench went on toiling away; while, in spite of the
sloppiness of the place, his big tom-cat came regularly to perch himself
upon a shelf, and with his big eyes looking fierce and glowing in the
semi-darkness of the building, he seemed to look upon it as his duty to
see that all went on steadily and well.
The sixth day had come round, and the gardener reiterated with a grin,
as he stared grimly at Glyn, "Ah, we shan't be done yet. It's my
opinion that it will take a month; and that's what the ganger thinks
too."
"The ganger?" said Glyn. "Who's he?"
"Him," said Wrench, with a sidewise nod in the direction of his feline
favourite, who was crouched together in the spot he had selected for
looking on.
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Glyn.
"Ah, you may call it nonsense; but you know, Mr Severn, I shouldn't be
at all surprised if that cat thinks. It's my opinion that he knows
there's holes somewhere down below, just above where the water used to
be, and that sooner or later if he waits patiently he will see some of
them as lives there come up in the empty bucket for him to hunt."
"And what are they that live down there?" said Glyn.
"Rats, sir--rats."
There was some colour given to Slegge's assertion that Glyn was there to
keep the juniors from tumbling down; for the slow, steady lowering and
drawing up of the big buckets had a peculiar fascination for some of the
youngest boys, notably the little set whose playtime was nearly all
monopolised by hard work--to wit, the bowling and fielding for Slegge.
Their anxiety was wonderful. If Glyn was not constantly on the watch,
one or other would be getting in the men's way, to peer down into the
darkness or rush to where the full buckets were emptied into a drain.
On commencing work upon the sixth morning the water was found to be so
lowered that the big buckets had to be removed from rope and chains, for
they would not descend far enough to fill. So they were replaced by
small ordinary pails; and, the work becoming much lighter, they were
wound up and down at a much more rapid rate.
"We shan't be long now, Mr Severn, sir," said Wrench, for each pail as
it came up had for its contents half-water and half-mud, the sediment of
many, many years. And at last Glyn's heart began to throb, for hanging
out over the side of the last-raised bucket was a long length of muddy
string.
"Then I am right," he said to himself. "How strange!" And as he
followed to the mouth of the drain into which the contents of the pail
were to be poured he caught hold of the string.
"Here, don't do that, sir," cried Wrench. "You'll cover yourself with
mud. Let me," and before the boy could stop him the man had snatched
the string from his hand and drawn it out.
"Broken away," said Glyn to himself, as the end was drawn from the
bucket, and he now peered anxiously into the pail, expecting to see one
end of the long morocco case standing up out of the thick contents.
But as the half-fluid mud was poured away the empty bucket went down and
its fellow rose similarly filled.
Glyn expected to see the rest of the string, for nothing like half of
that which he believed he had lost had come up.
Again he was disappointed, for there was neither string nor case, and
for some time bucket after bucket rose, at first full of mud, but by
slow degrees containing half, a quarter, and then only a small portion
of mud and water at a time, while each time the empty ones reached the
bottom a hollow scraping sound arose, as by clever manipulation of the
rope by Wrench they were dragged along the bottom.
"I say, Mr Severn, sir," he cried, "who'd ever have thought that there
was all that mud under the beautiful clear water? Ah, it must be a mort
of years since it was cleared out, and now we are at it we will do it
well--let the water come in a little and give it a good wash out two or
three times over. I won't let it fill up at all till we have scraped
this all clear. That's the way to do it," he continued, giving the rope
a swing so as to turn the bucket on its side and scrape it along the
bottom. "Hear that, sir? All hard stone at the bottom down there, and
mud and mud. Now, I half-expected to find a lot of things that had
fallen down, and the hoops of some old bucket that had been lost."
Glyn started at the man's words, and saw in his mind's eye the long red
morocco case, blackened now and saturated with water, while he wondered
what effect the moisture would have had on the beautiful
gold-embroidered leather of the belt.
"Yes," continued Wrench, giving Glyn as he stood close beside the mouth
of the well what seemed to the boy a malicious grin, "I did expect to
find something curious down there; but the buckets run easily over the
bottom, and there don't seem to be--yes, there is," he shouted
excitedly. "Nothing like patience in fishing. I have got a bite."
Glyn's heart seemed to stand still as the man gave a snatch at the rope.
"That's the way to strike," he cried excitedly. "I've caught him, and a
heavy one too."
Glyn's heart sank with disappointment, for there was no heaviness about
the belt, and he stood waiting now as the winch was steadily turned and
the bucket began to rise.
They had not been observed before, but a little party of about a dozen
of the younger boys had been hovering for some time about the
well-house-door, and first one and then another made a dash in from time
to time when Wrench was too busy with the buckets to take any notice of
them.
Burton had come inside now, to range up close to Glyn, and in an
affectionate way passed his arm round that of the lad who had been his
defender more than once.
Glyn responded by withdrawing his arm, placing both hands on the little
fellow's shoulders, and thrusting him in front so that the boy could
have a good view of all that there was to see.
"I say, Severn," he cried, turning his head to look up, "no larks--no
shoving me down the well!"
"Why not?" said Severn merrily, as he gripped the little fellow tighter.
"Because old Slegge will want me to bowl for him, and he likes kicking
me."
"Likes kicking you? Why?" said Glyn, speaking almost mechanically, for
he was anxiously watching the dark hole for the ascent of the next
bucket.
"Because I'm so soft and don't hurt his feet."
"Don't let it drop out, mates," cried the gardener, who was on the other
side of the well, turning one winch. "Hold tight now you have got him.
Do you know what it is?"
"No," replied Wrench; "but I think by the feel of it when I got it
slithered into the bucket that it must be an old brick out of the side
somewhere."
"Yah! Not it!" said the gardener. "I'll tell you what it is: it's that
big old tom-cat of the Doctor's that used to be about the garden and was
always scratching up my young plants. He was missing four or five years
ago, and I dare say he got into the top bucket to curl up for a nap one
night, and went down in it and was drowned."
"If it is," said Wrench, "he's got to be pretty heavy with soaking up so
much water down below. Maybe you know better than that how it was he
did get drowned and left off scratching up your plants."
As the man said these words little Burton gave quite a jump, and made a
peculiar sound.
"Here," said Glyn quietly, "what are you starting at? Did you think I
was going to pretend to push you in?"
"N-n-no," said the little fellow in a peculiar tone.
"What are you laughing at?" said Glyn, tightening his hold on the boy's
shoulders.
The little fellow squirmed.
"It--it--it--it--it,"--he stuttered--"it does tickle me so!"
"There, there! Steady, steady!" said Glyn. "No nonsense, or I shall
send you out of the well-house."
"No, no; please don't, Severn," whispered the boy excitedly. "Let me
stay, please. I do so want to see."
"Very well, then, only no games now," and in rather a hopeless way,
feeling as he did that there would be no morocco case and belt brought
up this time, Glyn patiently waited till from out of the darkness the
bucket came into sight, was wound up till it was well within reach, a
thump and a scraping noise coming echoing up from the bottom to announce
that its fellow had reached the end of its journey, and Wrench cried out
"Wo--ho!" for the gardener to hold on tightly by the handle and prevent
the heavy bucket running down again.
"Why, Crumpets!" cried Wrench, "what in the world have we got here?"
while Burton reached both hands back behind him so as to get a good grip
at the lapels of Severn's jacket, and began to dance with delight.
"Why, it's a cricket-bat!" cried Wrench. "Hanging over the side of the
bucket by a string tied round the handle!"
At this Burton began to make uncouth sounds as if he were being choked
in his efforts to suppress a hearty burst of laughter.
"Well, this 'ere's a pretty game," continued Wrench, as he took hold of
the bat by the handle and ran his hand along the muddy string till at
the bottom of the bucket his hand came in contact with a heavy brick.
"Why, any one would think it was a tom-cat with a string round its neck
and a brick at the other end of the string so as to keep him down. Four
or five years ago! Why, that would be time enough for all the flesh and
skin to have gone; but I never knowed that cats' skillingtons was shaped
like a cricket-bat.--Here, steady, youngster!" he continued to the
little fellow, "if you laugh like that you will have a fit."
"Oh, I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" panted the little chap, and
wrenching himself free from Glyn's grasp he rushed out at the well-house
door, ten or a dozen of his comrades bounding up to him as he shouted,
"Oh, come and look! come and look! Here it is! They've pulled it up,
drowned and quite dead."
There was a yell of delight from the little crowd, and all rushed up to
the well-house-door, to begin performing something like a triumphant
war-dance about the blackened and muddy bat.
"Here, I say, some one," cried Burton, "run and tell old Slegge that
they have found his cricket-bat drowned in the well like a dead dog in a
pond."
"Hush! Hush! Oh no. Hold your tongue!" whispered another of the boys
excitedly. "Let him find it out for himself. Don't let the cat out of
the bag."
"Bat out of the bag, you mean," said Glyn, who knew of the disappearance
of the bat and began to see through what had been done. "Which of you
did this?"
There was no reply.
"Do you hear?" cried Glyn, catching Burton by the collar of his jacket.
"I shan't tell," replied the little fellow. "Serve him right for
loading the old bat with lead.--Chuck it down again, somebody."
"Nay," cried Wrench; "I am not going to have any more things drowned in
my well. Now then, stand aside, some of you! Clear out, and take that
bat away."
"Here," cried Burton. "Come on, boys! Bring it along."
"Stop a moment," said Glyn. "Here's a painted wooden label here.
What's this on it?"
"B--e--a--s--t," said Wrench, "only it's turned nearly black with being
in the water, and very badly done; but that's it, sure enough,
sir--_beast_."
"Yes, that's it--_beast_," said another of the boys, snatching the bat
from Glyn's hand, while another boy got hold of the brick.
"Come on, boys," cried Burton. "Let's get a spade from the potting-shed
and bury the beast before old Slegge knows." And away they galloped,
followed by a shout from the gardener:
"Here, I say, you mind you put that there spade away again!--They're
nice uns, Mr Severn, sir, and knew about it all the time."
"Yes," said Wrench; "that young Burton was chuckling and laughing so
that he could hardly bear himself while he was waiting to see it come
up.--Now, then, twist t'other bucket over, mate, and give it a drag
round the bottom. What are we going to catch next?"
Glyn started once more, his heart beginning to beat fast with
expectation; but it gradually calmed down as the time went on, bucket
after bucket after a careful scraping along the bottom bringing up
nothing but a very little mud, and he began to feel convinced that if
there had been a morocco case down at the bottom of the well it must
have been felt in the careful dredging the live rock received, even if
it had not been brought up.
"There," said Wrench, "that'll do for to-day. It's only scraping for
nothing to get a little mud like that. I dare say there'll be six
inches of water in the bottom by to-morrow morning, and we will give the
whole place a good scraping round in getting that out; then another the
next day, and it ought to do."
"But do you feel sure there's nothing down there now?" said Glyn.
"Certain, sir. What do you say to going down yourself to see? You
could stand in the bucket, and we'd let you down. You wouldn't mind
turning round as you went down?"
"No," cried Glyn eagerly; "and there's no water there now."
"Not much more than enough to fill a teacup, sir. What do you say?"
"I'll go," cried Glyn excitedly. "I could take a lantern with me so as
to make sure there was nothing left."
"Well, yes, sir, it would be wise to take a candle," said
Wrench.--"Wouldn't it, gardener?"
"Nay, my lad; you ought to send the light down first. Then, if it
didn't go out, him as went down wouldn't go out."
"What do you mean?" said Glyn.
"Foul air, sir. Like enough there's some down at the bottom of that
well."
"Oh, there couldn't be any to hurt," cried Glyn eagerly. "I'll go,
Wrench. Get a candle."
"Not I, sir," said the man sturdily. "If any one was to go down that
well it would be me; but there ain't no need for it. I could swear
there's nothing down there, and I shan't go."
"Nobody wants you to go," cried Glyn. "I'll go myself."
"That you don't, sir, if I know it," said Wrench sturdily. "Pst!
Here's the Doctor."
For at that moment the entrance was darkened and the Doctor came in,
picking his way very carefully lest he should step into one of the
puddles of the muddy floor.
"Well, my men," he said in his slow, pompous way, "have you nearly
emptied the well?"
"Quite, sir," said Wrench.
"Was there any mud?"
"Yes, sir; we got out about two cart-loads, and scraped out all we
could. To-morrow, when there's a little more water come back, we're
going to try again."
"Yes," said the Doctor; "clean it out thoroughly while you are about it;
and mind and carefully secure the door when you come away. You had
better lock it, so that nobody can get in.--Well, Mr Severn, you must
be tired of watching here. Come and walk down the garden with me."
Glyn followed the Doctor, who made room for him to walk abreast till
they were half-way down the main path, when the latter said quietly,
"Well, Severn, what have you found?"
"Nothing, sir," replied Severn, who did not consider it necessary to
allude to the bat.
"No," said the Doctor; "I did not expect you would. Of course, you see,
my boy, that it was only a dream."