REQUIRED.

1. Soot.

2. Combustibles.

3. Receptacle.

4. Vehicle.

"Four-wheelers are cheap, but bang goes your tenner, Bobby," said Eves,

looking over his shoulder. "Can't you do without the vehicle?"

"You don't understand. We must have something to carry the receptacle

along at a good speed, like a ship at sea. A motor-boat would be the

very thing, but that's out of the question. We must find something

cheap to experiment with on land, and if it works I'll send the scheme

to the Admiralty, and they'll provide funds for marine tests."

"Jolly good idea! I suggest we take the things in order. Soot first.

What about that? There won't be much in the chimneys. Mother

Trenchard's sure to have had a spring cleaning."

"We'll see. Combustibles are easily got."

"Fire-lighters! You can get 'em at old Noakes's; they make a fine smoke

themselves and a jolly good stink. Splendid!"

"They might do. I don't see my way to numbers three and four at

present, but I'll ask Trenchard if he has anything he could let us have

cheap; he takes a great interest in my inventions."

"Good, old bird. I say, it's about supper-time; we'd better get back.

You didn't say anything to Mrs. Trenchard about barley water and fried

onions and margarine?"

"Not yet."

"Good man! She'll be quite satisfied with Aunt Caroline's love. Come

on."

At supper, in the farmer's raftered living-room, while Templeton was

considering how to open up the matter of soot with Mrs. Trenchard, Eves

suddenly began to sniff.

"Is that a smell of soot?" he said. "Does the chimney need sweeping,

Mrs. Trenchard?"

"There now!" exclaimed the farmer's wife, a comfortable-looking matron

some years younger than her husband. "If I didn't say to Trenchard I

was sure the noses of you London gentlemen would find it out! Us country

bodies don't notice it, bless you."

Eves grinned.

"'Tis true," the good woman went on; "it do need the brush. But there,

what can you do when the milingtary takes the only sweep in the village

and makes a soldier of him? I declare I didn't know him, he was so

clean. 'Tis a strange thought: the war makes men clean and chimneys

dirty."

"And takes away my appetite," said Eves, with his mouth half full of

bacon. "Look here, Mrs. Trenchard, you're going to market to-morrow

morning; why shouldn't we sweep the chimney for you while you're away?

I'm sure Templeton and I could do it, and we'd like to, awfully."

"'Tis very kind of you, that I will say; but I couldn't abear to think

of you dirtying yourselves."

"Oh, that's nothing. We get dirty enough on the farm."

"But that be clean dirt, not like the bothersome sut. Besides, there's

no chimney brush and no rods."

"Quite unnecessary," declared Eves. "Templeton has invented a new way of

sweeping chimneys, haven't you, Bob?" He gave him a kick under the

table. "You've no idea what a lot of useful notions he's got in his

head."

"Well now, did you ever?" said Mrs. Trenchard. "Do 'ee tell me all about

it, Mr. Templeton."

"To-morrow, Mrs. Trenchard," said Eves, hastily. "You see, it's quite

new, and hasn't been properly tried yet. An inventor never likes to

talk about his inventions until he's proved they're a success."

"Ay sure; he's in the right there," said Mr. Trenchard.

"I knew you'd agree," said Eves. "Well, then, we've settled that we

sweep the chimney while you're out, Mrs. Trenchard, and we'll tell you

all about it when you get back. You'll be delighted, I assure you."

When they went up to the room they shared, Templeton turned upon his

chum a face of trouble, and began:

"Look here, old man, it isn't right, you know. You know very well I

have not invented a way of----"

"Hold hard! You don't mean to tell me you haven't got it all cut and

dried?"

"Well, when you began gassing, of course I had to think of something to

save my face."

"I knew it! The idea was there; it only wanted switching on, like

electricity. What's the scheme?"

"Still, I don't think you ought----"

"The scheme! Out with it."

"Well, I thought we might get on the roof with a long cord, with weights

and a bundle of straw tied to one end, and jerk it up and down inside

the chimney."

"And the soot falls, and great is the fall of it! Splendid! Couldn't

be better. We'll have a ripping day to-morrow."

Next morning, soon after breakfast, Mrs. Trenchard set off for the

market town, driving one of the light carts herself. The farmer went

off to his mangold fields; the maids were busy in the dairy across the

yard; and the inventors had the house to themselves. The simple

materials they needed were easily obtained, and within an hour the novel

sweeping apparatus was ready. It had been decided that Templeton should

climb to the roof, while Eves remained in the room to see how the

invention succeeded.

Only when he was left to himself did it occur to Eves that something

should be hung in front of the fireplace to prevent the soot from flying

into the room, as he had seen done by professional sweeps, and he ran to

the potato shed to find an old sack or two that would answer the

purpose. While he was still in the shed, a man entered the yard and

looked cautiously around. He was a strange figure. A straw slouch hat,

yellow with age, covered long, greasy black hair. His long, straight

upper lip was clean shaven, but his cheeks and chin were clothed with

thick, wiry whiskers and beard. He wore a rusty-black frock-coat, grey

trousers very baggy at the knees, and white rubber-soled shoes. It was

none other than Philemon Noakes, the owner of the village store, grocer,

oilman, draper, seedsman--a rustic William Whiteley.

Seeing no one about, he approached the farmhouse, walking without once

straightening his legs, glanced in at the open door, then round the

yard, and, after hesitating a moment, entered the room. Mr. Trenchard's

desk, open and strewn with papers, stood against the wall to the left.

Noakes walked to it, and had just bent down, apparently with the object

of looking over the farmer's correspondence, when a muffled sound from

the neighbourhood of the fireplace caused him to start guiltily and turn

half round.

At that moment Eves, carrying a couple of sacks, arrived at the door.

Seeing the man start away from the desk, he stepped back out of sight to

watch what was going on.

Noakes, as if to resolve a doubt or satisfy his curiosity, crept across

the room, doubled himself, and looked up the chimney. There was a

rattling sound, and Noakes was half obliterated in a mass of soot,

clouds of which floated past him into the room. Hatless, choking,

rubbing his eyes, he staggered back.

[Illustration: "THERE WAS A RATTLING SOUND, AND NOAKES WAS HALF

OBLITERATED."]

"I say, Mr. Noakes, what _are_ you up to?" said Eves, entering with the

sacks. "What a frightful mess you're in!"

"'Tis your doing," spluttered Noakes, shaking the soot from his clothes.

"'Tis you, I know 'tis, and I'll--I'll----"

"Gently, Mr. Noakes, don't be rash. Why you should accuse me when I'm

perfectly innocent--you've hurt my feelings, Mr. Noakes."

"What about my feelings?" shouted the angry man. "'Tis a plot betwixt

you and t'other young villain, and----"

"Really, Mr. Noakes, with every consideration for your wounded feelings,

I must say I think you most insulting. Who on earth was to know that

you'd be paying one of your visits just at the moment when the chimney

was being swept, and would choose that very moment to look up the

chimney? You surely didn't expect to find Mr. Trenchard there?"

Noakes glared; at the same time his eyes expressed a certain uneasiness.

How much had this smooth-spoken young ruffian seen? Picking up his hat

he shook the soot from it, rammed it on his head, and strode to the

door. There he turned, shouted, "You've not heard the last of this," and

hurried away.

When Templeton came in a minute later he found Eves sitting back in a

chair, shaking with laughter.

"My word, what a frightful mess!" exclaimed Templeton. "I forgot all

about a covering. It's nothing to laugh at."

"Oh, isn't it! If you'd only seen him, soot all over his greasy head,

and the more he rubbed his face the worse it got."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Old Noakes. It's a priceless invention, Bob. Great minds don't think

of little things, but _I_ remembered the covering and fetched these two

sacks. When I got back Noakes was here, prying into Trenchard's papers.

But I fancy he heard a sound, for he went over to the chimney, and

then--by George! you've missed the funniest sight ever seen. He's only

just gone, in a most frightful paddy."

"I don't wonder. Don't see anything funny in it myself. I called down

'Are you ready?' and if you'd been here as we arranged it wouldn't have

happened."

"Of course it wouldn't, and old Noakes wouldn't have been jolly well

paid out for sneaking. What's he want nosing about at a time when he

thought every one was out? Trenchard must be told."

"I don't know about that, but I do know we'd better clear up this mess

before Mrs. Trenchard gets back."

"Or she'll think precious little of your invention. It's a great

success, anyway; you've got more soot than you expected. And old Noakes

carried away a lot."

*III*

In Mrs. Trenchard's absence there was to be no midday dinner. After

clearing up the mess with the assistance of one of the dairy-maids (who

called it "a rare messopotamia as anybody ever did see"), the two lads

went to join the farmer at lunch in the fields.

"That there invention, now," said Mr. Trenchard. "Hev it worked?"

"Splendid!" said Eves, emphatically. "We've got two good sacks of soot

and scared a slug."

"It don't take a mighty deal to do that, sir," said the farmer with a

smile. "I'll find that soot useful, and I'm much obleeged to 'ee, to be

sure."

"Oh, but, Mr. Trenchard, could you spare me some?" said Templeton.

"For another invention," Eves added. "He's got a jolly good idea for

protecting our ships from the U-boats, and soot's in it."

"As much as you do want, surely. I'd gie more'n a little to scrimp them

there engines of iniquity."

"And perhaps you could help me with something else," said Templeton. "I

want a sort of metal box; any old thing would do, something that's no

good for anything else."

"I can find 'ee summat, I b'lieve. There be an old tank in the shed

behind the dairy, where I keep th' old tricycle."

"A tricycle!" exclaimed Eves. "What about that for number four, Bob?"

"The very thing! Will you lend it or sell it, Mr. Trenchard?"

"I'll take no money from a young gent as is inventing for his country,

danged if I will. 'Tis a old ancient thing that I bought five-and-twenty

year ago for me and the missus."

"A sociable!" cried Eves. "We are in luck's way."

"'Tis called such, I b'lieve," said the farmer. "Ay, 'tis many a year

since the missus and me went gallivanting about the country. She were a

nesh young maid then, so to speak it; you wouldn't think it to see the

size she've growed to. I've kep' th' old thing for the sake o' them gay

young days."

"If you can spare us this afternoon, I'd like to experiment with it,"

said Templeton.

"Surely, and welcome, and I hope 'twill serve 'ee."

Hurrying back to the farmhouse they drew the tricycle from the shed and

tried its paces over the yard. It was rusty and stiff, but a little oil

eased the parts, and Templeton was delighted with his number four. The

tank of which Mr. Trenchard had spoken was made of galvanised iron, and

had several holes pierced in each side.

"The very thing!" cried Templeton. "We'll make some more holes at

different heights, Tom."

"What for?"

"My idea is to rig up some trays inside the tank, one above another;

there are several old sheets of iron lying about. They'll hold the soot

and combustibles."

"By George! we forgot to ask Mother Trenchard to bring some

firelighters."

"Never mind about them for the moment. We'll bore holes just above the

trays, and put in some straw soaked in paraffin, and light it. Then

when we start there'll be a fine draught through the holes."

"Splendid! But shan't we be fairly choked?"

"Of course we'll rig up the tank behind us; the smoke will all blow

back."

Eves eyed the tricycle dubiously.

"It'll be the dickens of a job to fix this heavy tank," he said.

"Oh, we'll manage it. There's plenty of wire about, and we can hunt up

something that will do for stays."

They worked energetically all the afternoon. Templeton's patience and

ingenuity triumphed over all difficulties. The tank slipped off several

times, but at last it was firmly fixed with an elaborate arrangement of

stays and wire, and when Mrs. Trenchard returned, between five and six

o'clock, she beheld her guests careering round the farmyard, making a

trial trip.

"Well, I never did see!" she exclaimed, pulling up the horse at the

gate. "Whatever hev happened to the old tricycle?"

Eves waved his hand gleefully.

"Splendid!" he cried, as Templeton halted the machine beside the cart.

"A new invention, Mrs. Trenchard."

"'Tis like the butcher's contraption I saw in the town, only the box is

behind instead of afore. What be the hidden meaning of that, I'd like

to know?"

"It won't be hidden long, Mrs. Trenchard. But the sun will be hidden;

there'll be an eclipse to-night."

"Go along with your rubbish, Mr. Eves. The sun will go down at his

proper time, whatever the clocks do say; they Parlyment men up along at

Lunnon can't make no eclipses, don't think it."

"Templeton means to; don't you, Bob?"

"He _does_ talk rubbish, Mrs. Trenchard," said Templeton, earnestly.

"All that he means is that we're going to try making a thick smoke, to

see if we can hide our ships from the German submarines."

"Well, never did I hear the like o' that! You'll need a powerful deal o'

smoke, Mr. Templeton."

"Of course, this is only experimental, on a very small scale. If it

succeeds----"

"He'll be rolling in wealth, and you shall have a new bonnet, Mrs.

Trenchard," said Eves.

"Ah, me! That do remind me of my boy Joe, to be sure; allers a-going to

be rich and gie me a new bonnet. And now, poor boy, he's in them there

horrible trenches, and the rats----"

"Cheer up, Mrs. Trenchard," said Eves, hastily, spying a tear. "I'm

sorry for the rats, from what you've told us of Joe. I'm sure you want

your tea after your long day. We want ours, I can tell you; and after

tea, Templeton will give you a demonstration of this splendid invention.

I say, Bob," he added, when Mrs. Trenchard had gone into the house,

"while they're making tea there'll be just time for you to cut down to

the village and buy some firelighters at old Noakes's. I don't suppose

he'd serve me. Hurry up."

Mr. Trenchard returning from the fields a few minutes later, Eves

unburdened himself.

"I say, Mr. Trenchard," he said, "when I told you we scared a slug, I

didn't mean one of those small slimy things, you know. I meant Mr.

Noakes. I caught him poking his nose into your papers this morning. I

think you ought to know."

"Do 'ee tell me that, now?" said the farmer, looking distressed.

"Honest Injun. He was over at your desk when we were sweeping the

chimney, and the fact is, he got a mouthful of soot and went away

fuming."

"I'd never have believed it, and him a chapel member," said Mr.

Trenchard. "Don't 'ee go for to anger Mr. Noakes, sir, med I beseech

'ee."

"All right. I dare say he'll keep out of our way. Of course, if he's a

friend of yours----"

"I wouldn't say that, sir, but as the Book do say, 'as much as lieth in

you, be at peace wi' all men.'"

"Jolly good idea! If the other chap won't be at peace with you, then

you must go for him. Splendid!"

After tea they made their first trial at smoke production. Placing a

layer of soot on each of the trays, with a couple of fire-lighters in

the midst, they lit some straw soaked in paraffin, poked it through the

holes, and began to treadle the machine round the yard, the farmer and

his wife looking on at the door. A considerable volume of smoke poured

out of the tank, but when they pulled up, Mr. Trenchard said:

"'Tis a noble beginning, to be sure; but I own, so to speak, I could

allers see that there tank through the smother, and if I understand your

true meaning, that hadn't oughter be."

"Quite right," said Templeton. "We want more of a draught, Tom. Larger

holes and greater speed."

"Righto!" said Eves. "Will you chisel the holes larger? Then we might

start on a real cruise--down the hill to the village, say. You can't

work up much speed in the yard. What do you think of it, Mrs.

Trenchard?"

"I know why my chimney wanted sweeping so bad, Mr. Eves. Ay sure, ye're

just as full of mischief as my Joe."

Half an hour's work with a chisel and hammer sufficed to enlarge the

holes. They then filled up the trays with more soot and firelighters,

kindled a fire, and when the smoke began to surge, ran the machine out

at the gate on to the high-road. A winding hill, nearly half a mile

long, led down to the village. The slope was not very steep; the

tricycle with its tank was heavy, and the bearings rusty; but by dint of

hard pedalling they soon worked up a good speed, and the increased

draught caused the smoke to pour forth in a dense cloud, ever increasing

in volume and pungency.

Meanwhile in the village young Noakes had noticed the first issues of

smoke, and ran into his father's shop shouting:

"Feyther, feyther, Farmer Trenchard's ricks be afire!"

Noakes, in a state of great agitation, rushed to the door in his apron,

glanced up the hill, and cried, excitedly:

"Fire, fire! Run and rouse up the neighbours, Josiah. 'Tis a matter o'

hundreds o' pounds. Fire!"

The boy set off through the village at a frantic run, shrieking "Fire!"

at the top of his voice. Out rushed the baker in his singlet straight

from the oven; the butcher in blue with his chopper; the smith from his

forge, rolling up his leather apron; the agricultural labourers, smoking

their after-tea pipes; the village constable in his shirt-sleeves. The

little street filled with women and children, the latter flocking to the

shed where the village fire manual was kept, and towards which the

tradesmen, members of the volunteer fire brigade, were hastening.

Waiting only to don their helmets, the men dragged the clumsy machine

forth, Noakes being the most energetic, and began to drag it up the

hill, the children following in a swarm.

"It do seem out a'ready, sonnies," said the smith, before they had gone

many yards.

"That's true as gospel," said the baker. "Do 'ee think I med go back to

my dough, neighbours?"

They came to a halt. It was the interval during which Eves and

Templeton were overhauling and restocking the machine.

"'Tis a mercy for Trenchard," added the smith.

"A merciful Providence," murmured Noakes, the lines of anxiety

disappearing from his face. "Run up along and tell neighbour Trenchard

how we all do heartily rejoice, Josiah."

The boy started, but the moment after he had turned the first corner he

came rushing back with his eyes like saucers.

"Feyther," he yelled, "fire bain't out. 'Tis blazing worse, and ricks

be ramping down along like giant Goliath!"

"'Tis a true word, save us all!" cried the baker. "What in the

name----"

"Now, sonnies, haul away," cried the smith. "Ricks hev staddles but no

legs, as fur as I do know. 'Tis the wind blowing the smoke down along.

Now, all together."

The windings of the road, and the hedges on each side, prevented them

from getting a clear view of this singular phenomenon. All that they

were aware of was a dense cloud of black smoke approaching them very

rapidly. They had just restarted the manual engine when, round the bend

just ahead, the tricycle shot into view with a huge trail of smoke

behind it.

"Sakes alive!" gasped the smith.

The children yelled, and fled down the road. The men, after an instant's

dismayed irresolution, scattered up the banks into the hedges, leaving

the engine standing half across the road. Noakes, on whose face a dark

flush had gathered as he recognised Eves, backed into a hazel and

flourished his fists.

Templeton, who was steering, tried to turn the machine into the hedge

before it reached the manual. But he was a shade too late; the off

wheel fouled the engine; the tricycle spun round; its riders were flung

into the hedge, and the trays, parting company with the tank as it

overturned, were distributed in several directions, bestowing a good

portion of their noisome contents impartially among the members of the

fire brigade.

[Illustration: "ITS RIDERS WERE FLUNG INTO THE HEDGE."]

The inventors picked themselves up, rubbed their elbows, and approached

the discomfited villagers, who, coughing and spluttering, were now

descending into the road. Templeton looked serious; Eves wore a broad

grin.

"Really, I'm extremely sorry," began the former.

"Sorry be jowned!" shouted the baker. "Sorry won't clean my hands, and

my dough a-spoiling."

"'Tis rank pison!" cried the butcher.

"Assault and battery and attempted murder," shrieked Noakes, furiously.

"Wi' my own firelighters!"

"Let us discuss it calmly," said Templeton. "No one can regret more than

I the--the inconvenience to which you have been put, quite without

intention, I assure you----"

"But the fact is," Eves interposed, pointing to the manual, "you were on

the wrong side of the road. Constable, I appeal to you."

The constable, who had left his fire helmet in the hedge, scratched his

head, the villagers looking at him expectantly.

"Well, neighbours all," he said, slowly, "the law's what it is, and I'm

not the man, being sworn in my office of constable--'t ud be high

treason or worse to gainsay it. And I don't care who the man is, that

there manual be on the right when the law says it oughter be on the

left, and no true man can deny it."

"That's for horses and carts, for horses and carts," fumed Noakes.

"As a man I respect you, neighbour Noakes," said the constable,

solemnly, "but as a officer of the law I say you don't know nothing

about it. The manual's a vehicle; well, then, the law's no respecter of

persons, and what be law for a horse and cart be law for a manual; ay

sure, for a baby's pram, if so be a pram was in custody."

"That's all very well," said the baker, "but what's the law say about

foul smoke? Tell us that, constable."

"Foul smoke be from factory chimneys; t'other smoke bain't foul."

"Of course not," said Eves. "You've got the law at your finger-ends,

constable. The penalty for being on the wrong side is a heavy fine,

isn't it?"

"That depends on whether 'tis Squire Banks or Sir Timothy on the bench,

sir."

"Well, my friend won't prosecute, I'm sure. And when I tell you he was

trying a new invention for beating the Germans, you'll be sorry you've

ruined it through being on the wrong side of the road."

"Wish we'd knowed that afore, sir," said the smith. "The truth on't is,

we thought 'twas Farmer Trenchard's ricks afire."

"And like true Britons you rushed to help your neighbour. Splendid!

I'll tell Mr. Trenchard how promptly the brigade turned out; he's very

lucky in having such good friends."

"Speaking for us all, sir----" began the smith.

"Not for me," Noakes interrupted, savagely.

"Hear what the man hev got to say, neighbour Noakes," said the baker.

"Mebbe I won't agree with him myself, but I'm not the man to say so

afore he's hawked it out."

"Speaking for us all," the smith went on, "I'm certain sure there's not

a man of us but hopes the gen'lman's invention bain't ruined out and

out. Anything as will beat the Germans hev our hearty good wishes, eh,

souls?"

"Hear, hear!" cried the butcher.

"There, neighbour Noakes, you was too primitive," said the baker,

reprovingly. "'Tis a good cause we suffer in, and I'm not the man to

complain. And speaking for us all, I say three cheers for the young

gen'lman."

The cheers were given, Noakes dissenting. Eves shook hands with them all

round, Noakes excepted. Then he helped them to right the manual, and

gave them a genial good-bye as they trundled it off.

"We've had a ripping day, Bob," he said, mopping his brow. "The smoke

was splendid--a first-rate stink. Old Noakes's face was a picture."

He laughed heartily.

"I'm afraid the tricycle is crocked for ever," said Templeton with a

gloomy look, "and I don't approve----"

"Oh, pax! You can pay Trenchard for the old thing out of your tenner;

and you're jolly ungrateful. If I hadn't chipped in they wouldn't have

cheered you. Let's pick up the ruins and get 'em back somehow. Buck

up!"

Mr. Trenchard received Templeton's apologies for the break-up of the

tricycle very good-naturedly. He refused his offer to buy it or have it

repaired.

"'Tis come to a good end, if so be your invention is a success," he

said.

Templeton drew out a specification of his smoke machine and sent it to

the Ministry of Munitions. In about a fortnight he received a formal

letter of acknowledgment. But by that time he had almost forgotten the

smoke machine, other ideas having absorbed his attention and activities.

*TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED*

*I*

Mrs. Trenchard that evening, after a brief absence from the living-room,

reappeared in her best flowered bonnet and a muslin shawl and announced

her intention of going "just there and back." Her husband, who was

reading the newspaper, looked up and nodded. Templeton was sketching

out a specification, and did not hear what she said. Eves gave her a

cheerful _au revoir_ from the depths of the chair where he lay at ease,

and smiled at her retreating form.

"'Tis like that, sir," said the farmer, catching his look. "'There and

back' in our family do mean a gossip with Martha Runt."

"The wife of Runt the smith?"

"Ay, that be the woman. I've not a word to say against Martha--not a

word; but she be a rare workman with her tongue. We shan't see no more

of Mother till supper-time."

He relapsed into his paper, and Eves stretched his legs and watched

Templeton steadily pursuing his task.

Mrs. Trenchard returned a good hour before she was expected. Her rosy

cheeks were flushed a deeper shade than usual; her bonnet was awry.

"I never did!" she exclaimed, pulling the strings into a knot. "No,

never in all my born days, without a word of a lie in it--never hev I

seed or heard no such goings on."

"What hev ruffled yer spirits, Mother?" asked the farmer, mildly.

"You may talk till yer throat be dry as a kex, Trenchard," cried the

angry woman, "but you'll never make me believe as black's white--never!"

"What silly ass has been trying to, Mrs. Trenchard?" said Eves, sitting

up. He had passed a dull evening.

"There's my boy Joe," she went on. "What did he do, though only a

Territorial and not supposed to move a leg out of his parish? 'Mum,'

says he--you heard un wi' yer own ears, Trenchard--''tis said here and

there they want men in France. Seems to me I must go.' 'That heathen

land!' says I. 'Ay, that's the place,' says he; 'we're all going.' And

go he did, and what wi' the rats and the mud----"

"Now, now, don't 'ee carry on, Mother," said the farmer, seeing that his

wife's eyes were filling. "Who've been vexing yer soul? And I don't

care who the man is----"

"Man! He baint no man. He's a conscientious objection. You'd never

believe it, Trenchard. When I traipsed down along to village, there was

a crowd of a dozen or more by church gate, and, thinks I, 'They be

talking o' young gentleman's invention'; but, coming up to them, no such

thing; 'twas that lad of Noakes's holding forth, preaching peace as bold

as brass."

"You don't say so, Mrs. Trenchard," cried Eves. "That little chap with

the long hair?"

"No, no, Mr. Eves; little Josiah baint so gifted. 'Twas Noakes's elder

lad, Nahum by name, as went away to work in Weymouth a year or two back,

and now home he comes boasting of how he 'scaped the Army, and telling

folks the war is wrong, and we be as much to blame as they Germans, and

no one didn't oughter fight for their country, and a pack of rubbish.

All fighting be against his conscience, says he--a pretty conscience,

indeed, as growed sudden when the Lords and Parlyment said every man was

a born soldier. Conscience! Why, Trenchard, you mind how he used to

leather his feyther's horse; and many's the time I've seed un cuff and

pinch his little brother till the poor soul hollered wi' pain. The

likes of him! What them there tribunals be about in letting him off

when good boys like my Joe, as wouldn't hurt a fly and haven't got no

conscience--there, 'tis a scandal, and makes my blood boil, it do."

"Well, well, Mother," said Mr. Trenchard, "I'll go as fur's to say I

agree with 'ee; but I wouldn't say a word against Mr. Noakes. He's a man

of renown in the parish."

"The dickens he is!" ejaculated Eves, who had followed Mrs. Trenchard's

story with the liveliest interest. Templeton, also, having finished his

draft, had listened with his usual air of thoughtfulness.

"Judging by the price he charged for those firelighters," he said, "Mr.

Noakes is a profiteer."

"Prophet neither here nor there, for all his Bible name, and his sons'

likewise," said Mrs. Trenchard. "That there Nahum, coming here and

stuffing his unnat'ral thoughts into the heads of our young fellers

whose time be nigh come! There was Billy Runt, and young Pantany, and

Tim Coggins, and such--oh! it did rile me, and I hadn't the heart to go

there, so I comed home along. And bless 'ee, he be going to wag his

tongue again to-morrow, and axed the boys to bring all their friends to

hear un."

"Splendid!" cried Eves. "I say, Bob, we'll go. You can nobble the

audience for Aunt Caroline."

This suggestion was not immediately accepted by Templeton, but in the

privacy of their bedroom it bore fruit.

"This is rather serious, you know, Tom," he said.

"Broken a collar-stud, old man?" Eves rejoined.

"No; I mean this speechifying. It's not right for the fellow to turn

the village boys against military service."

"Gas like that won't do much harm."

"But it may. It ought to be stopped. It's our duty to stop it."

"Jolly good idea! Start an opposition meeting and talk him down.

Ripping rag!"

"I'm afraid I'm not up to that. You see----"

"Leave it to me, then. I bet I can rattle my tongue faster than Nahum

Noakes. By George! Bobby, what an awful name!"

"You don't understand, Tom. It isn't talk that's wanted. The question

is, is he sincere? If he is--well, what about free speech?"

"A free kick is more to the purpose. But what are you driving at?"

"Well, oughtn't we to find out if he really has a conscientious

objection?--test him, you know? Mrs. Trenchard seemed to doubt it, and

if he's a humbug he ought to be exposed."

"Just so, Socrates. I'll kick him, and see how he takes it. You can't

take him to pieces like a clock, and examine his innards."

"That's the difficulty. Your idea won't do at all. You can't justify

an unprovoked assault."

"I jolly well can. But I'm dead beat; pedalling that heavy old machine

nearly biffed me. Sleep on it, Bob; perhaps you'll dream one of your

bright ideas."

But in the morning Templeton confessed that he had slept as sound as a

top, and hadn't given the matter another thought. Meditation during the

day was not more fruitful, and in the evening, when they went down to

the meeting-place opposite the church porch, Templeton had come to the

conclusion that they had better hear what Noakes had to say, and act as

circumstances seemed to require.

On the way they met Haylock, the constable, nodded to him, and passed

on. After a few seconds, however, Eves ran back, saying:

"I'll catch you in half a tick, Bob."

Templeton strolled on, too busy with his thoughts even to wonder what

his friend had to say to the policeman, or to notice the broad smile on

Eves's face when he overtook him.

They found that the meeting had already started. A group of the male

villagers, old and young, was gathered in a half-circle in front of a

sturdy-looking fellow of some twenty years, who was perched on the

churchyard wall. Nahum Noakes's appearance was that of an unusually

robust clerk. His black hair was cut short; his straw hat was tilted

back, showing a neat middle parting and well-oiled side-shows. He wore

a pointed collar and a lilac tie; his grey flannel trousers were hitched

up, revealing lilac socks neatly stretched above brown shoes.

"You want to know what I said to the tribunal?" he was saying as the two

new-comers sauntered up. His accent was that of a countryman overlaid

with a thin veneer of town polish. "I'll tell 'ee. 'Your name?' says

the chairman. 'Noakes,' says I. 'Christian name?' says he. 'Nahum,'

says I. 'Yes, your name,' says he. 'Nahum,' says I. 'Don't waste our

time,' says he; 'what is your _other_ name besides Noakes?' 'Nahum,'

says I. You see, neighbours, I was taking a rise out of him. 'Is the

man an idiot?' says he. 'No, he's not, and he knows his Bible,' says I.

That was a good one, wasn't it? Well, there was a young officer there,

only a lieutenant, but as stuck up as if he was commander-in-chief.

Military representative, he's called, I believe. He had a paper in his

hand, and he cocked his eye at it, and said: 'The man's Christian name

is Nahum, I find.' 'Oh! ah!' says the chairman, fixing his eyeglass.

'One of the minor prophets. Well, Nahum Noakes, what are the grounds of

your appeal?' 'I don't hold with fighting,' says I; ''tis against my

principles.' One of the tribunal, a little worm of a feller, pipes up:

'What would you do, my man, if the Germans landed?' 'I'd meet 'em as

men and brothers,' says I."

"Was they yer principles when you cracked young Beddoe's skull for

saying as you sanded yer feyther's sugar?" cried a voice from the

outskirts of the crowd.

There was a titter; Mr. Noakes, who had been listening to his son's

eloquence with a fond smile of paternal pride, scowled at the

interrupter, Runt the smith.

"Abuse is no argument, Mr. Runt," said Nahum, obviously nettled. "What

happened years ago when I lived in the village is not to the point.

Since I've been a resident in the town I've done a deal of deep

thinking, I can tell you, and studied a lot of subjects you've never

heard of----"

"Ever study phrenology?" asked Templeton, moving forward with Eves into

the circle.

"Got it?" whispered Eves, eagerly.

"Perhaps," returned Templeton.

Nahum stared at his questioner. The villagers drew together, Runt

winked at Coggins the butcher. Mr. Noakes looked annoyed, and stiffened

his long, straight upper lip.

"You said?" began Nahum.

"I asked you if you had ever studied phrenology, the science of reading

the mind through the skull."

"Well, I won't exactly say that I've been very deep into it, but----"

"Allow me," interrupted Eves, who had taken his cue. "Having only just

returned to the village, you don't know my friend, Mr. Templeton, who

has gone very deeply into loads of things, I assure you. Mr.--I think

you said Nahum Noakes--you are really a splendid specimen for the

phrenologist, and a little examination of your bumps----"

Nahum started back as Eves approached.

"It is quite painless, I assure you," said Eves, soothingly. "Mr.

Templeton will only pass his hand gently over your head, and from the

configuration of the cranium he will read your character like an open

book."

"I don't think I need even touch your head," said Templeton. "If you

will kindly just raise your hat--

"Give it a trial, Nahum," said Runt. At first puzzled, like the rest of

the villagers, he had now risen to the situation, and was ready to lend

his aid in its development.

"See if the young gen'l'man be right," added Coggins. "We all know 'ee,

from a baby up'ard."

Half suspicious, angry at the interruption of his discourse, and still

more at the sniggers of some of the younger members of the group, Nahum

seemed to think that to acquiesce was the shortest cut out of his

quandary. He took off his hat. Templeton stood in front of him,

inspecting his head with the gravity of a judge at a cattle show. Nahum

looked simply foolish.

Templeton moved slowly round, and leant on the wall to get a back view

of Nahum's head.

"Yes, it seems genuine," he said at last. "I don't find the bump of

pugnacity."

"Which means that he doesn't mind what you do to him?" said Eves.

"Just so. He's not a fighter."

Nahum's face cleared; his father shed a gratified smile around the

group.

"Supposing some one pulled his nose?" Eves went on.

"He couldn't possibly resent it," replied Templeton. "It would be quite

safe."

A loud guffaw from Runt brought a flush to Nahum's cheeks, and a scowl

to his brow.

"I'd like to see any one try it," he muttered.

Instantly Eves shot out his hand, seized the somewhat prominent member

in question, and pulled. Nahum sprang from the wall and hit out. Eves

nimbly evaded the blow, and for half a minute dodged up and down like

the matador at a bull-fight, pursued by the infuriate youth, who became

only the more enraged as his clenched fists beat upon empty air. Shouts

of laughter broke from the crowd. "Mind yer principles," cried the

smith. "Gie un a larruping!" bellowed Mr. Noakes. Templeton looked

worried.

At this moment the constable elbowed his way into the arena.

"Good now, gen'l'men," he said; "this be what the law do call a breach

of the peace, and I'm not so sure but 'tis time to take 'ee both into

custody for obstructing the police in the execution of his duty." He

took Nahum's arm. "Come, come, sonny. I be surprised, and you such a

man of peace as never was."

"Ay, and he axed the gen'l'man to pull his nose, he did so," said the

smith.

"True, he said he'd like to see any one try it," said Coggins. "The

gen'l'man only took him at his word--hee, hee!"

Aware now of the pitfall into which he had fallen, Nahum broke away from

the constable, plunged through the crowd, and hurried away, followed

closely by his father.

"A rare good randy, sir," said the smith to Eves, "but I hope Philemon

won't make 'ee pay for it. Howsomever, Nahum's tongue won't wag no

more, maybe, and that'll be for the good o' the nation."

"Another ripping day, Bob," said Eves, as he walked home with Templeton.

"That idea of yours was splendid."

"I was quite serious," said Templeton.

"You always are, old man. But you don't mean to say you really meant to

feel the fellow's bumps?"

"I did, till I funked the bear's grease."

"And there really is a bump of pugnacity?"

"Of course there is--combativeness, they call it. It's at the back, low

down. The fellow hadn't got a trace of it. I really think----"

"You'll be the death of me, Bob. A fellow who lashed out like that not

combative? Why, you can see it in his face--bully's written there as

plain as a pikestaff. It's jolly lucky you've got me to work out your

ideas! Anyway, it was a good rag, well worth half-a-crown."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I tipped old Haylock half-a-crown to barge in if he heard a row.

That leaves me four and elevenpence halfpenny."

A few days later Lieutenant Cradock, military representative at the

county tribunal, rode over on his motor-bicycle and had a short

interview with Constable Haylock. With the constable perched on the

carrier he went on to Trenchard's farm, and found Eves and Templeton

digging energetically along the border of a field. A conversation

ensued, freely punctuated with laughter, and the officer rode away.

Next day a summons reached Nahum Noakes to attend an adjourned meeting

of the tribunal. The chairman announced that an incident reported by

the military representative hardly squared with the appellant's

professions, and Nahum Noakes, passed A1, was handed over to the

military authorities.

*II*

Spring and summer had been very dry, and Farmer Trenchard's fields,

lying on a rocky upland, gave promise of but an indifferent harvest.

The growth was thin, the stalks were short and yellow, the husks lean.

The farmer had almost given up hope of his cereals, and his root crops

could only be saved if the drought was soon broken.

On the morning following the affair of Nahum Noakes's bumps Mr.

Trenchard was walking along the edge of one of his fields, looking

disconsolately at the drooping upper-growth of the carrots. Eves and

Templeton were hoeing some little distance away.

"Here's old Noakes," said Eves, suddenly. "Wonder if he's come to grouse

about yesterday?"

Mr. Noakes, dressed as usual in his rusty frock-coat, but wearing a new

straw slouch hat--his old one had not survived its bath of soot--was

shambling up the field to meet the farmer.

"Marnen, neighbour Trenchard," he said.

"Marnen, Mr. Noakes," returned the farmer, with the air of timidity that

marked all his intercourse with his neighbour. The two men stood

together, Noakes smug and self-satisfied, Trenchard downcast and almost

humble.

"It do seem you'd be the better for a drop of rain," Noakes went on.

"The ground be dust dry. Them there carrots baint no good."

"True; I'm afeared 'twill be a bad year wi' me."

"Well, we're in the hands of Them above," said Noakes, smiling and

rubbing his hands slowly together. "The old ancient men of Egypt had

their lean years and their years of plenty; we can't look for no

different in these here end o' the world times."

"Ah, Mr. Noakes, I don't gainsay 'ee, but 'tud hev made all the

difference to me, a good moist season. I be afeard I shall have to axe

'ee----"

"Not a word, neighbour. Sufficient unto the day, you know. Not but

what 'tis a misfortune to 'ee, but things may take a turn."

He thrust his hands into his pockets and stood for a few moments

scanning the fields; then after a word or two of a general nature moved

away, without having appeared to notice the two boys.

"Cut dead!" said Eves with a grin. "A good thing too; I loathe the

fellow. Poor old Trenchard will be wretched all the rest of the day. I

wonder why he always looks so hang-dog when Noakes is about? He

couldn't look worse if Noakes was his landlord and he couldn't pay the

rent. And upon my word, Noakes has cheek enough for two. I saw him

prodding the cattle the other day as if he owned 'em, or would like to.

What do you think about it?"

"Eh? about Noakes? I wasn't thinking of him," said Templeton. "I was

wondering whether we couldn't do something to help save the old man's

crops."

"Well, old chap, if you can invent rain----"

"Don't be an ass. Of course I can't. But I don't see why we shouldn't

irrigate, as they do in India."

"We haven't got an Indus, and the river down there is too far away, and

below this level. You can't make water run up-hill."

"But there's the brook just at the edge of the field, behind that ridge.

All we've to do is to divert it."

"My good man, it's miles below the top of the ridge. Besides, there's

not much water at the best."

"There's enough. We should have to build a dam, of course. Then the

water would collect till it rose to the height of the ridge and flowed

over, and we could carry it over the fields through small drains. You

see, the stream runs straight to the sea; there are no fishing rights to

consider, and it's not used for mills or anything of that sort."

"A jolly back-aching job, digging drains and what not. No chance of a

rag. Still, the idea's good enough, and I'd like to see old Trenchard

more cheerful. You had better see what he says about it."

The farmer was so much preoccupied with his gloomy thoughts that he

scarcely appreciated at first the nature of the service which Templeton

offered to render. This, as Eves pointed out afterwards, was partly due

to Templeton's manner of broaching the subject.

"Your jaw about irrigation and the Punjab was enough to put him off it,"

said Eves, who was nothing if not frank. "Of course, the old countryman

didn't understand; he understood right enough when I chipped in. There's

nothing like what old Dicky Bird, when you do a rotten construe, calls

_sancta simplicitas_."

Between them they managed to explain the idea to Mr. Trenchard, and to

win his assent. Indeed, the chance of saving his crops had a magical

effect on his spirits.

"It do mean a mighty deal to me," he said; "more'n you've any right

notion of. I wish 'ee success, that I do."

They started work on the following morning. From the rocky banks of the

stream they rolled down a number of stones and boulders and piled them

in the channel to the height of the ridge, forming two adjacent sides of

a square. Then up stream they cut a quantity of brushwood, which, being

set afloat, was carried by the water against the piled-up stones. This

occupied them the whole day, and they left for the next the final

operation--the digging of earth to stop up the interstices through which

the water still flowed away, and the carrying of it in wheelbarrows to

its dumping places.

It was while they were digging that Lieutenant Cradock arrived to

interrogate them about the conscientious objections of Nahum Noakes.

About half an hour after his departure Nahum's father appeared on the

scene, breathless from hurrying up the hill from the village. He had

pumped Constable Haylock, who was a simple soul, and had learnt enough

about the recent interview to feel a gnawing anxiety as to the fate of

his beloved Nahum. He was hatless, and wore his apron, with which he

wiped the shining dew from his face as he stood watching the diggers.

"Marnen, gen'l'men," he said, presently, in the tone of one who would be

a friend. "'Tis warm work 'ee be at, surely."

"A warm day, Mr. Noakes," said Templeton, resting on his spade. Eves

went on digging.

"Ay, sure, 'tis warm for the time o' year, so 'tis. Vallyble work; if

there be one thing I do admire, 'tis to see young gen'l'men go forth

unto their labour until the evening, as the Book says--earning their

bread with the sweat of their brow. Ah, 'tis a true word."

Templeton was too modest to acknowledge this compliment. Eves went on

digging. Mr. Noakes hemmed a little, and stroked his beard.

"Purticler such young gen'l'men as you be," he went on, "as hev gone

deep into book learning and gives yer nights and days to high matters.

That there finology, now; that be a very deep subjeck--very deep indeed;

wonderful, I call it, to read into the heart through the head. Nobody

'ud never hev thought 'twere possible. And so correck, too; my boy

Nahum, as peaceful as a lamb--you was right about that there bump, sir."

"He certainly hasn't got the bump of combativeness," said Templeton;

"but----"

"Ah, yes, to be sure; he was a trifle overtaken with yer friend's joke,

as any young feller might be; but I told un 'twas just a bit o' juvenile

high spirits, and so he oughter hev took it. 'Let not the sun go down

upon yer wrath,' says I, and bless 'ee, he smiled like a cherub next

day, he did. That there bump be a good size on soldiers' heads, now? I

warrant that young officer man as I seed down in village has a big un."

"I really didn't think to look, Mr. Noakes," said Templeton, patiently.

"Only think o' that, now, and I felt in my innards he'd come up along

a-purpose. You didn't say nought o' finology, then?"

"Well, it was mentioned--just mentioned."

"And Mr. Templeton assured Lieutenant Cradock that your son hadn't the

slightest prominence in that part of the skull," Eves broke in. "In

fact, it's the other way about."

"Wonderful ways o' Providence!" said Mr. Noakes, rubbing his hands

together and smiling happily.

"But I'm bound to say----" Templeton began.

"Come on, Bob; shovel in, or we'll never get done," Eves interrupted.

"There's enough stuff dug; let's cart it down. We're trying an

experiment in irrigation, Mr. Noakes."

"Ah! irrigation. It needs a dry soil, to be sure; it'll grow well

here--very well indeed."

Eves smothered a laugh, and let Templeton explain. The explanation,

strangely enough, brought a shadow upon Mr. Noakes's face. It darkened

as he watched the dumping of the earth upon the dam. He was silent; his

mouth hardened; and after a few more minutes he shambled away.

"I'm afraid we've given him a wrong impression," said Templeton,

anxiously.

"Well, he shouldn't be sly. Besides, if he's ass enough to think

'finology' will go down with the tribunal, that's his look-out."

They worked hard through the rest of the day, and by tea-time the water

had begun to trickle over the ridge in many little rills. It seemed,

indeed, that there would be no necessity to dig the channels of which

Templeton had spoken, the slope of the ground and the natural fan-like

spreading of the streams promising that in due time the whole field

would be thoroughly watered. Tired, but well pleased with the success

of their experiment, they returned to the farmhouse.

Mr. Trenchard had been absent all the afternoon. At tea they told him

what they had done, and he cheerfully assented to their suggestion that

he should go with them to the ridge and see for himself their irrigation

works.

It was dusk when they started. The ridge was at an outlying part of the

farm, and as they strolled across the intervening fields Eves suddenly

exclaimed:

"What's that?"

Some hundreds of yards ahead, a whitish object, not distinguishable in

the dusk, was moving apparently along the top of the ridge. In a few

seconds it disappeared.

"That was one of they rabbits after my turmuts, I reckon," said the

farmer. "Terrible mischeevious little mortals they be."

"I say, Bob," cried Eves, "we might have a rabbit hunt one of these

days."

"We've a lot of other things on hand," said Templeton, dubiously. "You

see, there's the tar entanglement, and----"

"There it is again," said Eves, pointing towards a hedge some distance

to the left beyond the ridge. "Rabbits don't live in hedges, do they,

Mr. Trenchard?"

"Not as a general rule," replied the farmer, cautiously; "but there's no

saying what they'll be doing. He's gone again; we've frighted him

away."

"Well, here you see what we've done," said Templeton. "The dam there

holds back the stream, the water is forced to rise, and it's now finding

its way over the ridge in many little rivulets which I daresay by

to-morrow morning will have flowed right over the field."

"Well to be sure!" said Mr. Trenchard. "Now that's what I call a

downright clever bit of inventing. And to think that there stream hev

been a-running along there all the days of my life, and I never seed no

use for un! 'Twill be the saving of my roots, young gen'l'men, and I'm

much beholden to 'ee."

It was as though a load had been lifted from the old man's mind. He was

more cheerful that night than his guests had yet seen him, and was

easily persuaded to join them and his wife in a rubber of whist.

Early hours were the rule at the farm. By nine everybody was in bed but

the two strangers. They were always the last to retire. About ten they

had just undressed. It was a hot, sultry night; the bedroom, low-pitched

and heavily raftered, was stuffy; and Eves, after blowing out the

candle, pulled up the blind and leant out of the window to get a breath

of what air there was. The sky was slightly misty, and the moon, in its

last quarter, threw a subdued radiance upon the country-side.

"By George!" exclaimed Eves, suddenly; "there's that white thing again."

"What does it matter?" said Templeton, who was getting into bed. "We've

got to be up early; come on."

"Come and look here, you owl. That's no rabbit. It's bobbing up and

down, just where the dam is. I'll be shot if I don't believe some one's

interfering with it."

This suggestion brought Templeton to the window at once. Side by side

they gazed out towards the ridge.

"This is serious," said Templeton. "If it really is any one interfering

with our work----"

"We'll nip him in the bud. Come on; don't wait to dress; it's quite

warm. Get into your slippers. We'll go out of the back door without

waking the Trenchards and investigate."

Two minutes later they were stealing along under cover of the hedge that

skirted the field to be irrigated. Arriving at the ridge some distance

above the dam they turned to the left, and bending double crept towards

the scene of their toil. There, rising erect, they saw Mr. Noakes up to

his thighs in the stream, hard at work pulling away stones and earth

from the dam.

The water was already gurgling through.

"Hi there! What the dickens are you up to?" Templeton cried.

The man turned with a start, and faced them. He appeared to be

undecided what to do.

"What are you about?" repeated Templeton, indignantly. "What right have

you to destroy our dam?"

"What right!" said the man, indignant in his turn. He was still in the

water, and, leaning back against the dam, he faced the lads in the misty

moonlight. "What right hev you two young fellers, strangers in the

parish, to play yer mischeevious pranks here? 'Tis against the law to

interfere wi' the waterways o' the nation, and the Polstead folk hev

their rights, and they'll stick to 'em. Ay, and I hev my rights, too,

and I'm a known man in the parish. This here stream purvides me wi'

washing water, and to-morrow's washing day. You dam up my water; I

can't wash; that's where the right do come in."

"My dear sir," said Eves, gravely, "however much you want washing, and

however much it is to the interest of your neighbours that you should

wash, the interests of our food supply, you must admit as a patriotic

man, are more important. Wash by all means--to-morrow, when the dam,

having done its work, will no doubt be removed. For my part, I have a

distinct bias in favour of cleanliness. If a man can't be decent in

other things, let him at least be clean. There was young Barker, now, a

wretched little scug who wore his hair long, and always had a high-water

mark round his neck. My friend Templeton, of whose ingenuity you have

seen proofs, had an excellent invention for an automatic hair-cutter.

But I am wandering from the point, which was, in a word, how to be happy

though clean----"

Eves was becoming breathless. He wondered whether he could hold out.

Templeton gazed at him with astonishment; as for Mr. Noakes, he looked

angry, puzzled, utterly at sea. Once or twice during Eves's oratorical

performance he opened his mouth to speak, but Eves fixed him with his

eyes, and held up a warning hand, and overwhelmed him with his

volubility.

"Yes, how to be happy though clean," Eves went on; "there's a text for

you. Cleanliness is an acquired taste, like smoking. The mewling infant,

with soapsuds in his eyes, rages like the heathen. The schoolboy,

panting from his first immersion--my hat!"

The expected had happened. During Eves's harangue, the water had been

eating away the pile of soil and rubbish which had been loosened by Mr.

Noakes's exertions. Without warning, the dam against which the man was

leaning gave way. He fell backward; there was a swirl and a flurry, and

Mr. Noakes, carried off his feet by the rush of water, was rolled down

stream. His new soft straw hat, which had betrayed him, floated on

ahead.

Templeton sprang over the ridge and hastened to Mr. Noakes's assistance.

For the moment Eves was incapacitated by laughter. Fortunately the

stream was not deep, and after the first spate it flowed on with less

turbulence. Templeton gripped the unhappy man by the collar, and hauled

him up after he had been tumbled a few yards. Breathless, he stood a

pitiable object in his frock-coat and baggy trousers, his lank hair

shedding cascades.

[Illustration: "TEMPLETON GRIPPED THE UNHAPPY MAN BY THE COLLAR, AND

HAULED HIM UP."]

"A most unfortunate accident," said Templeton. "You see, by removing

some of the stones----"

"Mr. Noakes, your hat, I believe," interposed Eves, handing him the

sodden, shapeless object which he had retrieved from the stream. Mr.

Noakes snatched it from him, turned away, and started downhill. Never a

word had he said; but there was a world of malevolence in his eye.

"We had better get back and dress," said Templeton.

"What on earth for?"

"Well, we can hardly repair the dam in our pyjamas."

Eves laughed.

"You're a priceless old fathead," he said. "Repairs must wait till the

morning. I can never do any work after a rag."

"A rag! But it was a pure accident, due to the idiot's own

meddlesomeness."

"Most true; but it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't kept his attention

fixed by the longest spell of spouting I ever did in my life. It was a

ripping rag, old man, and now we'll toddle back to bed. The one thing

that beats me is, what's his motive? He'd hardly take the trouble to

smash our dam just to get even with us, would he? That's a kid's trick.

There's something very fishy about old Noakes."

*III*

Templeton had not settled which among his many ideas to work at, when

accident launched his imagination upon a new flight.

One day the village was stirred to unusual excitement. Two items of

local news, following quickly one upon the other, gave the folk so much

matter for gossip that the amount of work they did was reduced fifty per

cent. The first was that Nahum Noakes's final appeal had failed; the

second, that young Wilfred Banks, the son of Squire Banks, one of the

local magnates, had been seriously injured by the fall of an aeroplane.

Mrs. Trenchard, having been "there and back," was full of the story.

"Ay me, to think of a nice pleasant young gentleman like Mr. Wilfred

lying at death's door through one o' they dratted airyplanes! That

venturesome he always was, as a little small chiel. 'Tis against Nature

to try to fly like the birds, that's what I say, and what can you

expect? The world do be turning topsy-turvy, and all through they

Germans."

That night, just as Eves had turned over to sleep, he was roused by a

call from Templeton in his companion bed.

"What is it?" he murmured, drowsily.

"I've got an idea," was the reply.

"Well, sleep on it, old man."

"You know very well that I can't get a wink till I see daylight."

"Then you've got about five hours. Good night!"

"Of course I meant a light on the problem; you're so literal. You see,

the evolution of a perfectly stable machine----"

Eves interrupted with a groan.

"I suppose I must be a martyr," he said, "but I wish you'd arrange for

your ideas to come in the morning. Fire away! I'll keep awake if I

can, but cut it short."

"You're a good sort, Tom. Really I'd like to know what you think of it.

You see, an aeroplane ought to balance itself automatically, and I've

got an idea for automatically adjusting the surfaces of the planes so

that the machine will instantly adapt itself to gusts of wind,

side-slips, and so on."

"Jolly good idea! Good night."

"Hold hard. You haven't heard the idea yet. My arrangement would be

electric. Beyond the extremities of the frames I'd have a light

framework on which an extension of the plane could be pushed out by a

steel rod actuated by a small electric motor."

"I can go to sleep at once, then, because that won't work. It means

more weight."

"No, no; we'll argue it out. Weight's becoming less and less important

every day. Look at the weight of bombs an aeroplane can now lift.

Anyhow, the point is that the motor would be controlled by the movement

of the plane. A sphere moving in a horizontal channel would be affected

by the slightest inclination of the plane. I'd arrange by a series of

electrical contacts----"

"How?"

"I haven't worked out all the details yet; how could I? But the effect

would be that the farther the sphere moved the farther the rod would

push out the extension of the plane on the side required. And when the

aeroplane had righted itself, the sphere would return to neutral."

"My sleepy brain is fairly dazed with your rods and spheres and the

rest. Hang all that! The question is, would the extension idea work?

Would the lengthening of the planes meet the case?"

"Of course it would. It's easily proved. All you want is a glider."

"Well, old man, the idea's ripping, and being a reasonable chap, you'll

agree that you've got to go one step at a time. I don't say you're

wrong, but treat me as a bit of a sceptic, who wants everything proved."

"Very well; I'm not unreasonable. We'll set to work and make a glider;

then you'll see."

"Righto! Feel more easy now? Hope you won't wake in the night."

Templeton was just dozing off when from Eves there came:

"I say, Bob."

"What?"

"You'll have to cut into your tenner at last. Bye-bye!"

During the next week they did very little "work on the land." Farmer

Trenchard, impressed as usual by Templeton's earnestness, allowed them

as much leave as they wanted, and they devoted themselves during the

hours of daylight to the manufacture of a glider. A journey to the

nearest town and the cashing of the L10 note furnished them with the

wood and the textile fabric they needed, and Templeton had sufficient

skill in carpentry to fashion two wings, light enough for his purpose,

yet strong enough to sustain him. His funds would not run to an

electric motor, but he thought that, for his first experiments, the

lengthening rod might be actuated by stout cords running over pulleys.

The contrivance was finished after a week's hard work. Tested in the

farmyard, the lengthening apparatus worked smoothly; it only remained to

try it in the air. Templeton had already marked a suitable spot for the

trial--a sloping field some little distance from the farm, too steep for

cultivation, and occupied usually by cattle fattening for Coggins, the

butcher. It was enclosed by a thick hedge except at the gate, and that

was kept locked, and blocked with brushwood.

"I think perhaps we had better ask Coggins's leave to use his field,"

suggested Templeton.

"Don't do anything of the sort," replied Eves. "We don't want a crowd

of yokels looking on. If the thing goes all right, you can invite the

village to an exhibition."

The morning chosen for the trial was warm and still. No danger from

gusts of wind was to be anticipated. Mounting the glider on two wheels

from the old tricycle, patched up for the occasion, they wheeled it up

to the field and managed with some difficulty to hoist it over the gate,

after having cleared a way through the obstructing brushwood. At the far

end a few cattle were peacefully grazing. The well-cropped hill was a

smooth inclined plane of springy turf.

They carried the machine to the top.

"I bag first go," said Eves.

"No, I can't agree to that," said Templeton. "You see, though I'm pretty

sure it will work all right, there's bound to be a certain risk, and as

it's my idea I ought to test it."

"That's no reason at all. Cooks never eat their own cake. Besides, if

there is an accident, much better it should happen to me than you.

_I'm_ not an inventor."

"I still maintain----"

"Oh, don't let's waste time. Let's toss for it. Heads me, tails you.

A use for my half-penny at last. Here goes."

He spun the coin.

"Heads! There you are. Now fasten the straps on my shoulders, and give

me a gentle shove off."

The glider was not fastened to the wheels, Templeton's theory being

that, having been started on them at the top of the hill, it would

almost at once gain "lift" from the air. So it proved. After a few

yards it rose slightly; a little farther on it was quite clear of the

ground, and Eves, with legs bent and arms stretched out on the wings,

enjoyed for a few brief seconds the exhilaration of aerial flight. Then,

however, it began to tilt. Mindful of Templeton's careful instructions

and the preliminary test in the farmyard, Eves tugged at the appointed

rope, which should have thrown out an extension of the wing, and,

according to Templeton's theory, have restored the balance. Unhappily

the mechanism that had worked so smoothly before now proved treacherous.

The machine swerved to the left, and crashed into a bramble-bush in the

hedge at the foot of the hill.

Templeton rushed down in great agitation, sprang into the hedge

regardless of scratches, unloosed the straps, and hauled Eves out.

"I say, you're not hurt, old man?" he asked, anxiously.

"I'm pretty well pricked, confound the thing!" said Eves. "The wretched

cord jammed."

"But the theory's all right."

"Hang the theory! Look here, old man-- Hullo, here's old Noakes."

Noakes, accompanied by a thick-set countryman in corduroys and leggings,

had come over the crest of the hill just as the accident occurred, and

run down almost on Templeton's heels.

"I've cotched 'ee," he cried, panting. "You're my witness, Ted Smail.

Cotched in the act, the mischeevious young vipers. I'll have the law of

un."

[Illustration: "'I'VE COTCHED 'EE,' HE CRIED."]

"My dear sir, I don't think it has anything to do with you," said

Templeton. "My friend, as you see----"

"Your friend, and you too, be a-trespassing on my field and a-ruining my

property, and the law'll have something to say about that."

"Ruined a bramble-bush!" said Templeton.

"And the bush has ruined my clothes," Eves added.

"That there's my hedge, and you've been and knocked a hole in it,

and----"

At this moment his tirade was suddenly interrupted by a bellow behind

him. A bull, excited by the vagaries of the glider, had trotted up from

the far end of the field to investigate, and further roused, probably,

by Noakes's loud tones and waving arms, threw down its head and charged.

The men scattered. Eves and Templeton made for the gate and vaulted

over. Noakes ran one way, his friend another. The bull plunged

straight at the glider, sticking in the hedge, and smashed it to

splinters. Then it dashed after Noakes, who, seeing no other outlet,

flung himself into the ditch below the hedge and scrambled through the

tangled lower branches only just in time to escape the animal's horns.

"We must offer to pay Noakes for the damage," said Templeton.

"Rot! We haven't done tuppence-ha'-penny worth; and how do we know it's

his field?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't say so if it wasn't, and there's certainly a hole

in the hedge. I'll just see what he says."

Noakes, hatless, dishevelled, and scratched, was coming towards them.

"I'm willing to pay any reasonable sum for damages, Mr. Noakes," said

Templeton.

"Are ye?" replied the man with a grin. "I be main glad to hear it. You

shall have the bill, don't 'ee make no mistake about that. But I won't

take no money 'cept by judge and jury."

He passed on, and stood at the gate until his friend should find it

convenient to join him.

Two days later Constable Haylock came to the farm, and, with an

apologetic air, handed to Eves and Templeton each a blue document,

summoning them to appear at the justice court to answer a plaint of

trespass and damage on the part of Philemon Noakes.

"This is serious," said Templeton. "You see, we've no defence. We did

break his hedge and disturb his tenant's cattle, as he says. I wonder

what the penalty is?"

"A fine of L5, old man, I expect," said Eves, cheerfully. "Don't you

worry; I did the damage, and I can't pay."

"I'm sure _I_ can't. That glider cost L7 16*s.* 4*d*. I haven't half

L5."

"Well, they'll give us seven days C.B., or whatever they call it, and

you'll have to write to Aunt Caroline to bail us out. Jolly good idea!

We'll be able to give her tips in food economy after a week of prison

fare."

"It's no joking matter. She'll be upset; no Templeton of our family has

ever been in prison."

"You don't say so! You'll make a record, then. Splendid!"

On the appointed day they appeared before the justice.

"'Tis Squire Banks's day," whispered Haylock as they passed him at the

door. "He baint such a hanging judge, so to speak it, as Sir Timothy."

Noakes gave his evidence, Smail corroborated it, and Squire Banks asked

the culprits what they had to say in their defence.

"It was like this, sir," began Eves, before Templeton could start; "my

friend Templeton devotes a lot of time to trying experiments--working

out ideas for useful inventions. When he heard of that accident to a

flying man the other day"--the old gentleman looked interested--"he kept

me awake at night talking over an idea for making an aeroplane

automatically safe. I confess I was sceptical, and it's my fault all

this happened, because it was to prove his theory to me that he made a

glider; it cost him over L7, sir; and we couldn't find a better place to

try it on than that hilly field. I'm afraid I was clumsy; at any rate,

the thing came to grief----"

"But the principle of it is quite sound," Templeton put in.

"But, of course, you're not concerned with principles here, sir, but

only with law," Eves went on. "We didn't know the field belonged to Mr.

Noakes, or I assure you we wouldn't have touched it with a pole, and as

to damage, my friend offered to pay any reasonable sum."

"But didn't I understand that you caused the damage?" the squire

interposed, his eyes twinkling. "That being the case, ought not the

offer to pay have come from you?"

"I'm afraid it ought, sir; but--well, I've only got four and elevenpence

halfpenny."

There were smiles in the court at this ingenuous confession.

"Well, Mr. Templeton offered to pay," the squire went on. "What then?"

"Mr. Noakes wouldn't hear of it, sir," Eves answered.

"Is that so, Noakes?"

Noakes had to confess that it was.

"Come, now, Noakes, brambles grow very fast, and any hedger will close

the gap for eightpence. It's a trumpery matter. You young fellows can

pay half-a-crown between you for the damage, and Noakes must pay his own

costs; it's an unreasonable action. Call the next case."

"Jolly old trump!" said Eves as they went out. "And I'm jolly glad the

old boy's son is getting better."

On reaching the farm, Templeton found awaiting him a letter from his

aunt, written in reply to one he had sent her more than a week before.

She explained the long delay by the fact that the letter had pursued her

through three counties. "I am delighted to hear," she wrote, "that you

have not yet spent _any_ of the money I sent you. It shows great

_strength of character_. You will be pleased to hear that my lectures

are a _great success_. I expect to reach Polstead in about ten days,

and I shall be so glad if you will do a little thing to prepare my way.

My lectures are _thoroughly practical_; it is useless to talk about

economical foods if the dear people cannot procure them. I want you to

see Mr. Philemon Noakes for me; he is the _principal tradesman_ in the

village; and ask him if he will _very kindly_ lay in a stock of certain

_cheap_ articles of which I will send you a list. A personal interview

is so much more satisfactory than a formal letter, and you will find Mr.

Noakes a _very civil and obliging person_."

"My hat!" cried Eves, laughing. "What a rag! I'll come with you, old

man."

Templeton looked worried.

*A GAS ATTACK*

*I*

Mr. Noakes made no further attempt to interfere with the irrigation of

Farmer Trenchard's fields. The two lads repaired the dam, gave the

parched ground a thorough soaking for two days and nights, then

demolished the simple structure and allowed the stream to pursue its

usual course.

Templeton, meanwhile, had been anxiously weighing the claims of the

other ideas that jostled in his brain. He wanted to perfect his

automatic hair-cutter; to experiment with what he called, in advance, a

"levitator"--a contrivance for enabling an aeroplane to rise more

rapidly; to test his notion of a tar entanglement, and various other

sound schemes. Unfortunately the incomplete hair-cutter had been

confiscated by his head master, and it would take weeks to construct a

new one. The levitator was out of the question at present, for it would

cost a good deal more than the two pounds odd which remained out of his

aunt's gift. Several ideas were unworkable for the same reason, and he

had almost resolved on the tar entanglement when, with that suddenness

to which inventors are accustomed, a quite new idea shot into his mind.

He had been reading, in a war correspondent's dispatch, about the star

shells and Verey lights which were used at night to throw a fitful

illumination upon the hostile lines. Eves noticed that as he cleaned

his teeth before going to bed he made frequent pauses, holding the

tooth-brush motionless for some moments at a time.

"What's up, old man?" asked Eves, who was already in bed. "Got

toothache?"

"No; I was thinking," replied Templeton, rubbing again. "You see----"

"But I can't hear through the bristles. Hurry up, or I shall be asleep."

Templeton finished his toilet, blew out the light, and got into bed,

sitting up and clasping his knees.

"Those flash-lights, you know--they don't last long enough. What our

fellows want is some continuous illumination."

"What about the moon?"

"You know perfectly well the moon doesn't shine for half the month."

"I thought perhaps you'd invented an artificial moon. But expound, old

bird."

"Well, you know the prevailing wind in winter is from the west. Why

shouldn't our men start relays of light balloons----"

"Balloons always are light."

"I mean light-giving balloons. They'd float over the German lines and

illuminate their whole positions with a steady continuous light."

"The Huns would shoot 'em down."

"Not easily, for they'd be dark."

"Light and dark at the same time! Go on, Bobby; I'm sure you can prove

black's white."

"If you wouldn't interrupt, you'd see. The illuminant would be attached

to the balloon by a long cord, and there'd be a shade like a lampshade

over it, so that the balloon itself would be in darkness. It's easy

enough to try."

"How?"

"All you want is a dozen toy balloons, a few cubic feet of hydrogen, a

slow match, and a little magnesium wire. There you have it on a small

scale. Fill the balloons with hydrogen, tie 'em together, fasten a slow

match and a bit of wire to each, light the match, and send the whole

caboodle up."

"But magnesium wire only burns for a second or two."

"You really are an ass, Tom. We'd only use magnesium wire for our

experiment; there are heaps of things that could be used with big

balloons at the front."

"You mean to try it, then?"

"Of course. Old Noakes has some toy balloons."

"But what about the hydrogen? It doesn't smell, does it?"

"No. Why?"

"Only that I forget all my chemistry except the stinks. How do you make

it?"

"By the action of an acid on a metal. Don't you remember Zn + H2SO4 =

ZnSO4 + H2? Iron will do as well."

"That's easy enough, then. But you'll want retorts, wash bottles,

pneumatic troughs, and goodness knows what else. Bang goes the rest of

your cash, Bob."

"Nonsense! Mother Trenchard has some old pickle bottles, and we're not

out to make a specially pure gas. All we'll have to buy will be a

little acid, a few feet of glass tubing, and a rubber cork or two. Four

or five shillings will buy the lot. We shall have to go to Weymouth for

them."

"Righto! That's a day off to-morrow."

The morning post brought a letter from Aunt Caroline enclosing a list of

foods which she wished Mr. Noakes to stock. Templeton read it solemnly,

and handed it to Eves.

"I say, Mrs. Trenchard, what do you think of this?" cried Eves. "Things

Bob's aunt is going to lecture about, you know. Haricot beans----"

"They want a deal of cooking, Mr. Eves," said Mrs. Trenchard. "You must

soak 'em overnight, and boil 'em hours and hours. I have my doubts

whether the village folk can spare the time."

"Well, here's dried peas."

"Do 'ee think the women 'll use 'em dried when the shucks are full of

green? What can Miss Caroline be thinking of?"

"Tinned eggs, then."

"Lawk-a-mussy, I was silly enough to buy one o' they tins once, and when

I opened it--there now, never in my life did I come so near fainting

afore, and me not a fainting sort, the smell was so terrible. If that

be the kind of thing Miss Caroline's cook do give her, 'tis time I was

back in my old place, that it be."

Eves laughed as he handed the list back to Templeton.

"There are a dozen more things," he said; "if they're all as good, old

man, Aunt Caroline will get a shock when she's heckled."

"Bless 'ee, sir, and who'll be so bold?" said Mrs. Trenchard. "Folks

'll listen, ay sure, as meek as lambs; but buy them things--never in the

world."

"Well, Bob, you must take the list to Noakes. You must do something for

your tenner. Tell you what: I'll go to Weymouth for the chemicals and

things. By the time I'm back you'll have seen Noakes and got the

bottles and other things ready. Noakes wouldn't serve me, I'm sure."

So it was arranged. Eves hurried through his breakfast and just caught

the carrier's cart that conveyed passengers to the junction. Templeton

finished leisurely, and then, not much liking his job, walked down to

the village to interview Noakes. As he came to the shop door he heard

Noakes addressing a customer.

"No, I tell 'ee, you can't have no sugar without you buy tea and bacon."

"But 'twas only the day afore yesterday I bought my quarter of tea,

sir," said a woman's voice, plaintively; "and I must have sugar to stew

my plums for the children's dinner."

"Bain't no good you standing there whining about yer children. No sugar

without t'other things; that's my last word to 'ee."

"Excuse me," said Templeton, entering the shop. "Is there a new order

from the Food Controller? If I'm not mistaken, there have been several

prosecutions lately of----"

"Now look 'ee here," cried Noakes, angrily, "I bain't a-going to stand

no more nonsense from you. Who be you, I'd like to know, coming and

ordering me about in my own shop?"

"Far from it, Mr. Noakes. I only wished to give you a hint that your

customer is entitled to buy sugar without any conditions, and it's silly

to put yourself in the wrong."

Noakes glowered and blustered, but previous experience of Templeton's

determination had taught him a lesson, and ultimately he served the

woman with a half-pound of sugar.

"I want half a dozen of those toy balloons," said Templeton.

"They bain't for sale," growled Noakes.

"Indeed! You hang them up as ornaments, I suppose. Perhaps you'll sell

me some if I buy some sugar, say."

"Get out of my shop," cried Noakes, furiously. "I tell 'ee I won't

serve 'ee, and I won't have you imperent young fellers in my shop at

all, so now you know it."

Templeton shrugged his shoulders. Taking his aunt's letter from his

pocket, he opened it, and said:

"There must be a mistake. My aunt says that the principal tradesman is

a very civil and obliging person. You know her--Miss Caroline

Templeton. She is coming down in a few days to lecture on food economy,

and wants you to lay in a stock of various things of which I have a

list. But perhaps she is referring to somebody else, and it's no good

bothering you."

At the mention of Miss Templeton's name an uneasy look settled upon

Noakes's face. He watched Templeton replace the letter in his pocket,

then said hesitatingly, in a milder tone:

"When be the lady coming, sir?"

"In ten days or so, and as the letter was written some days ago, it may

be under a week from now."

The look of uneasiness gave way to a smile. Noakes turned his back, and

Templeton, resolving to have nothing more to do with the man, left the

shop.

*II*

Thinking it probable that he might get some balloons at the nearest

village about five miles away, Templeton set off to walk there. Eves

would not be back till the afternoon; there was plenty of time. As he

left the shop he met the man Smail, who had been in Noakes's company on

the day of the experiment with the glider. The man leered at him and

passed on.

When Templeton, unsuccessful in his quest, returned to the farm at

midday, he found Mrs. Trenchard in a state of great agitation.

"Oh, Mr. Templeton," she cried, bursting into tears, "to think I've

lived to see this day!"

"Why, what's the matter, Mrs. Trenchard?" he asked.

"He's there, sir," she nodded towards her husband's little den, "and

'tis ruin to us, and we'll have to go to work'us, and my poor Joe----"

"Come, Mrs. Trenchard, don't be upset. Just tell me all about it.

Nothing has happened to Mr. Trenchard, I hope?"

"Only a broken heart, sir. Ah! if he'd only telled me afore! We've had

bad times, as you know, sir; 'twas worse than I knew, and my poor man

kep' it all to himself, so's not to worrit me. He went and borrowed

money of Mr. Noakes, sir, to tide him over harvest. I don't know the

rights of it; 'tis too much for my poor head; but by what I can make of

it Trenchard signed a paper to say as if he didn't pay back the money by

a certain time the farm 'ud belong to Mr. Noakes, and a week afore the

time Mr. Noakes could put a man in to see as we didn't rob him. And

he's in now, sir, in there--'tis Ted Smail, a rascal of a man as knocks

his poor wife about. And what I'll do, Them above only knows."

"Can't Mr. Trenchard turn him out?" asked Templeton.

"'Tis the law, sir; Trenchard owned it all, poor man, and axed my

pardon, he did, for bringing it on me. Ah! if he'd only telled me

afore! A week's such a little time to get all that money. When he

telled me, wi' tears in his eyes, I said, 'Now just you run up along to

Lunnon and see your brother, as keeps a public-house and is rolling in

money. He'll help 'ee, and I'll work myself to skin and bone to pay him

back.' And he'd just time to catch the train at the junction, and if

his brother be hard, as some be, there's nothing but the work'us for

us."

"Cheer up, Mrs. Trenchard. Let's hope for the best. I'll talk it over

with Eves when he gets back, and we'll see what can be done."

"Thank 'ee kindly, sir, but don't 'ee go against the law. The law be a

terrible creature."

In the afternoon Eves returned with his purchases.

"There you are, old man," he cried, "acid, stoppers, and tubing. You've

got the balloons?"

"No. I say, Tom, this experiment's off for the time; things here are in

a deuce of a mess."

He gave an outline of the domestic troubles.

"Whew!" Eves whistled. "So that's old Noakes's game. That throws a

flood of light on the old villain's doings. But we'll dish him yet.

The first thing is to get this fellow Smail out of the place. That will

make the old woman feel a little easier."

"I don't see how we can do that. Trenchard signed the deed or whatever

it's called, and you may be sure that Noakes kept on the right side of

the law."

"Well, let's go and see."

They opened the door of the farmer's little room, and beheld Smail lying

on his back on the sofa placidly smoking a very rank tobacco. On a chair

was a basket of provisions and several bottles of beer.

"I say, my man," said Eves, "your boots are rather dirty, you know."

Smail closed one eye and said nothing.

"Mrs. Trenchard doesn't like it, you know," Eves went on. "Don't you

think you'd better go?"

The man was still silent. Eves mutely consulted Templeton. Smail was a

big, thick-set fellow; a physical struggle with him might end in

disaster.

"Look here, how much do you want to go?" asked Eves. ("I've got some

change," he whispered to Templeton.)

Then the man spoke. Winking and waving his pipe, he declared, hoarsely:

"Here I be, and here I bide."

"We'll give you ten shillings," said Eves.

"Here I be, and here I bide."

"Oh, all right, bide away," said Eves, taking Templeton by the arm.

"Rotten tobacco, ain't it, Bob?"

They returned to the other room and sat down.

"We can't starve him out," said Eves. "The beggar's got grub enough for

a week."

"If we could only entice him out it would be all right," said Templeton,

"because I believe I've read somewhere that a bailiff or whatever you

call him can't legally force his way into a house."

"Well, only beer would entice that sort of bounder, and he's got plenty

of that. He's a big hulk, but we _might_ manage to chuck him out."

"Dangerous that. Even if we succeeded, we might find ourselves in court

again."

Eves stuck out his legs and pondered. Suddenly he sat up straight.

"By Jove, I've got it!" he cried. "We'll stink him out."

"How do you mean? It would have to be a powerful stink to upset a

fellow who can smoke that tobacco."

"Of course; and I haven't wasted my time in the lab, old man. I never

took any interest in chemistry till I learnt how to make stinks. What

about H2S? The very thing. Splendid! We've got the acid; all we want

is--by Jove! where can we get some iron pyrites? That means another

trip to Weymouth."

"And you probably won't get it there."

"Hang it all; can't we make it some other way?"

"Wait a bit. Don't you remember old Peters making it once by boiling

sulphur with tallow? And he told us you get a more steady flow of gas

that way. We've probably got all we want on the premises. But how are

you going to get it into the room?"

"We'll have to find a way. Let's go and investigate."

Inquiry of Mrs. Trenchard elicited the information that her store

cupboard ran along the whole length of the room in which Smail had made

himself at home. The wall between them was rather thick, but it would

certainly not be impossible to pierce a hole in it.

"Splendid!" said Eves. "We can make the gas in the store cupboard, and

pass it into the room through one of our tubes. Of course, we'll have

to lock the man in."

"The gas won't drive him out of the window," said Templeton. "In fact,

if he keeps that open the smell will never be strong enough."

"You may be sure the window won't be open. A fellow of that sort revels

in fug. No doubt he'll take an afternoon nap to-morrow. That'll be our

time. He'll wake up choking, and if I know my man he'll make a dash for

the window and tumble out into the open--by the way, I suppose the gas

won't actually poison him?"

"No; the worst effect, I believe, is sickness and dizziness. We had

better start boring our hole to-night, when he's asleep. If we're

careful he won't hear us."

"We must get Mother Trenchard to take out her stores. Shall we tell her

why?"

"Better not. I'll just say we want to try an experiment."

Mrs. Trenchard somewhat reluctantly agreed to remove her stores for a

short time. From her they obtained a quantity of tallow and a few sticks

of brimstone, and in the privacy of their bedroom they broke up and

pulverised one of the sticks, and boiled a little of the sulphur powder

with tallow in a tin.

"Ripping stink," said Eves, putting his head out of the window. "It's

going to work A1. We'll pound up the rest of the brimstone, and then

wait for night. This is the stuff to give friend Smail. It will bring

him to his senses right enough."

"More likely it'll take his senses away from him to begin with,"

answered his fellow-conspirator. "But it won't do him any real harm.

Phew, what an aroma!"

After dark, when loud snores from the room proclaimed that its occupant

was asleep, they bored a couple of holes in the partition wall with a

brace and bit obtained from Constable Haylock, who was something of a

carpenter.

"I'll lend 'em to 'ee with pleasure, sir," he said when Eves requested

the loan, "purvided 'tis for a legal objeck. As a servant of the

nation, 'tud be my ruin if so be you was committing a felony."

"That's all right, constable," replied Eves. "We're only going to bore a

couple of holes for Mrs. Trenchard."

After an hour's careful work there were two small holes in the wall,

about six niches apart and a few inches above the floor, just under the

sofa. Satisfied that all was now ready for the morrow's experiment, the

lads went to bed.

Next afternoon Templeton assured himself, by a peep from the outside

through the closed window, that Smail had settled himself on the sofa to

sleep over his heavy midday meal. Eves then quietly opened the door,

abstracted the key, and locked the door from the outside. Their simple

apparatus was already fitted up in the store cupboard--an old saucepan

over a spirit lamp, with two holes in the lid through which they had

passed two lengths of glass tubing, the other ends of which projected

slightly into the room. Their next move was to lock all the house

doors, except one leading to the garden at the back. By this time they

had found it necessary to tell Mrs. Trenchard what they were about, and

she was rather timorously awaiting results.

"Whatever you do, Mrs. Trenchard, don't open the door to the fellow

after we get him out," said Eves, impressively. "Templeton says he

can't legally force his way in, so keep the doors shut and leave the

rest to us."

Templeton lit the spirit lamp and closed the store-room door. In a few

minutes the nauseating fumes of sulphuretted hydrogen stole through the

cracks into the passage.

"Gracious goodness, we'll all be poisoned!" cried Mrs. Trenchard.

"No, it's quite harmless, I assure you, though rather horrid," said

Eves. "Look here, Bob, you paste some strips of paper over the cracks

while I go outside and see how things are getting on."

He went out of the back door, hastened round to the front, and peeped in

at the window. Smail was sleeping on his back with his mouth open, one

hand dangling over the side of the sofa. The gas being colourless, Eves

had no evidence that the experiment was working until he put his nose to

the lower sill and got a faint whiff of the fetid odour. Minute after

minute passed, and there was no sign that the gas was having any effect

on the sleeper. At last, however, he stirred, sniffed, and looked round

the room. Then he got up, looked under the table, under the sofa,

examined his basket of provisions, turned up on end two empty beer

bottles. Seized with a fit of coughing, he made for the door, tugged at

the handle, shouted, then dashed to the window, pulled back the catch,

tumbled out, and ran towards the front entrance.

Eves had slipped out of sight, but the moment the man's back was turned

he ran to the window, sprang on to the sill, and braving the fumes,

prepared to dispute any attempt to re-enter by the same way.

Meanwhile Smail was thundering at the front door, mingling curses with

cries to be let in. At this signal that the experiment had succeeded,

Templeton threw open the door of the store cupboard, extinguished the

lamp, and asked Mrs. Trenchard to open all the inner doors and the upper

windows, so as to clear the air.

Finding the front door closed to him, Smail returned to the window.

Eves had now entered the room and stood at the window, holding a poker.

Smail approached him, scowling and squaring his fists.

"Just you come out o' that, you young viper," he cried. "You've a-tried

to pison me, and I'll have the law of 'ee. That there room's my room

for now; 'tis the law; so get out."

"Here I be, and here I bide," said Eves, brandishing the poker. "Don't

come too near, Mr. Smail. You know so much about the law that you'll be

aware you're committing a felony if you try to force your way in. You

don't want to go to quod again, Mr. Smail, I'm sure. Besides, I don't

think your head's hard enough to stand a whack from this poker."

[Illustration: "'HERE I BE, AND HERE I BIDE,' SAID EVES, BRANDISHING THE

POKER."]

"I say, Tom, don't be violent," said Templeton, coming up behind him.

"I'm just explaining," replied Eves. "Cut down to the village, Bob, and

fetch old Haylock. He'll expound the law to Mr. Smail."

Smail spluttered and cursed, but he was evidently doubtful on the point

of law, and after standing irresolutely in front of the window for a

minute or so he turned on his heel and shambled out through the gate.

"Splendid, old man!" cried Eves. "There's no law that I know against

making a stink, and he went out of his own accord."

"That's all very well, but the important thing is, will old Trenchard be

able to raise enough money to pay off Noakes? I wish Aunt Caroline were

here. She'd be able to advise; she's had a good deal to do with

lawyers, one way and another. If I knew where she was I'd wire her."

"Well, all we've to do at present is to keep Smail and Noakes out till

the farmer gets back. From what I make of it, Trenchard still has a few

days' grace before his debt to Noakes becomes due, and anything may

happen in that time."

*III*

They kept a close watch on the house all the rest of the day. At night

all the doors and windows were bolted, and Eves took turns with

Templeton to mount guard. The latter was by no means sure of the legal

position; it might be that he was mistaken, and that a forcible entry

would not be a breach of the law. The night was undisturbed, and next

morning Eves, leaving Templeton to keep watch, went down to the village

to consult Constable Haylock.

"Can a bailiff, or whatever you call him, force his way into a house?"

he asked, meeting the constable near the bridge.

"Well now, that's queer, danged if it bain't," said the constable.

"I've been axed that very same question a'ready this morning. It do

seem there's debts and executions in the wind, and folks come to me, as

stands for law and justice, to know their true rights."

"They couldn't come to a better man, I'm sure," said Eves. "Was it old

Noakes who asked you?"

"Now, sir, if you axe me to tell state secrets, I couldn't do it--no,

not for a judge or royal highness. I name no names; but I'll tell 'ee

what I said to them as axed me, that being law for rich and poor.

'Force yer way in,' says I, 'and you would be imprisoned without the

auction o' fine, 'cos the judge med bring it in housebreaking, or

burglary if by night. But there be other roads to market,' says I. 'If

so be you comes up quiet and finds some out-o'-the-way door as bain't

the high road, so to speak it, into the house, and gets yer foot

inside--well, there 'tis; if those inside tries to get yer foot out 'tis

assault and battery, and the fine forty shilling.' That's what I said,

and I make no boast, but I defy any man to give 'ee better law nor that,

I don't care who the man is."

"By Jove! you're Solomon and Daniel rolled up together," said Eves.

"You're a treasure, constable. By the way, don't say I asked about it.

I'm rather hard up myself, but Mr. Templeton----"

"Not a word, sir, not a word. Maybe I'll meet yer friend up along one

o' these days; he's a gentleman and will behave as such."

Eves's face wore a grin when he returned to the farm.

"Haylock's a priceless old ass, Bob," he said. "Noakes has been at him,

and he's given him a tip."

"Who's given who? Your pronouns are mixed up," said Templeton.

"Well, you don't suppose Noakes would tip Haylock; that's for you to do.

What I meant was that Haylock has given Noakes a tip how to get into the

house without breaking the law, and you may bet your boots we shall have

Smail up again to-night. You know that narrow lane leading up to

Trenchard's coal-shed? It's hardly ever used. Any one might come up

there at night, and get in by the window of the shed. There's a door

between the shed and the scullery, never locked, and Smail can easily

get into the house that way."

"You don't mean to say that Haylock put 'em up to that?"

"Of course not; but he told Noakes that if he can manage to get into the

house secretly when the inmates are off their guard they can't legally

turn him out. Whether he's right or wrong I don't know, but you may be

sure it was enough for Noakes."

"Haylock ought to have warned Mrs. Trenchard."

"But Noakes wasn't such a fool as to say what house he wanted to get

into. He asked a general question, just as I did. Well, on the way up

I had a ripping idea. Your tar entanglement--just the very thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, if it's good enough to stump the Huns in Flanders it's good enough

to spoil old Noakes's game. Noakes is sure to think of the lane. We'll

cover the ground with a layer of good runny tar some inches deep and a

few feet square, and stretch a few wires across, and Messrs. Noakes and

Smail will find themselves properly held up. I know the very

place--just where the lane runs under the wall of the barn on one side

and a prickly hedge on the other. They couldn't go round. Imagine old

Noakes stuck fast in the tar, like a fly in treacle."

"Where's the tar to come from?"

"There's a barrel in the outhouse; Trenchard uses it, no doubt, for

tarring his fences. We could melt that down, and it would keep sticky a

long time this hot weather."

"But I don't see why we need take all that trouble. All we've got to do

is to lock the door between the scullery and the coal-shed."

"Hang it all, where's your enterprise? Don't you see, you owl, we'd kill

two birds with one stone? We'd teach old Noakes a lesson and test your

idea at the same time. Imagine Noakes is a prowling Hun, coming at dead

of night to surprise our unsuspecting Tommies, stealing along, all

quiet--and slap he goes into the tar. Come, man, it's splendid."

Templeton came round to his friend's view, and they lost no time in

making their preparations. The lane was apparently used only as a short

cut from the high-road when coal was brought to the farm. It was just

wide enough to allow the passage of a cart, and even on a bright night

was dark, owing to the tall hedge on one side and the high blank wall on

the other. At its darkest spot, ten or a dozen yards from the house,

Eves set to work to prepare the ground. He measured off a space about

four yards long, and at the end farthest from the house dug the soft

earth to the depth of four inches. Working back from this point, in the

course of a couple of hours' diligent spade work he had made a shallow

excavation in the lane, varying in depth from four inches to eight.

Meanwhile Templeton had broken up the tar and melted it down in the

small portable copper which the farmer used for conveying tar from place

to place. They ladled the molten stuff into the excavation, filling up

to the level of the lane.

"Hope they won't smell a rat--which is tar backwards," said Eves.

"Perhaps the smell will have gone off a bit by the time it's dark. Tell

you what, we'll cover it lightly with farm litter, and strew some more

between here and the road; perhaps one smell will kill the other."

Last of all they carried two strands of stout wire across the lane,

about half-way along the tarry patch, and three inches above its

surface.

"Good!" cried Eves, surveying the completed work. "In the darkness they

won't see a thing."

"Suppose they don't come this way at all?" said Templeton.

"You're a horrible pessimist. Is there a better way? Aren't all my

deductions good? Well, then, cheer up, and see if you can manage to

laugh when the flies are trapped."

About half-past nine (summer time) Eves and Templeton left the farmhouse

by the front door. Mrs. Trenchard locked the door behind them, and they

had previously assured themselves that all the other doors and windows

were securely fastened. Each carried a shot-gun. Two guns were always

suspended on the wall of Mr. Trenchard's den, and it had occurred to

Eves that they might prove useful.

It was a dark summer night. There was no moon, and the starlight was

too feeble to throw any illumination upon the tree-bordered high-road.

The lads' intention was to walk down the road until they came to the

lane, to hang about the entrance there until they discovered the

approach of Smail, and then to take cover in the angle between the hedge

and the road, behind the visitor.

They had hardly left the farm gate when Eves's quick eyes detected a

small figure lurking in the shadow on the farther side of the road.

"Noakes has posted a scout," he whispered. "They're going to make the

attempt. But this is awkward, Bob. We shall have to dispose of the

scout; I fancy it's long-haired Josiah."

"I bar that," said Templeton, decisively. "I'm not going to hold up the

youngster, or anything of that sort."

"All right; there's no need. Leave it to me."

They walked on, giving no sign of having seen the boy, who slipped

behind a tree-trunk as they neared him.

"Yes, it's just the night," said Eves in a loud voice, as though

continuing a discussion. "Just the night rabbits like. Slip round

quietly to the wood; there'll be hundreds skipping about in the

darkness. It's nearly a mile away; allow half an hour to get there and

back, and an hour's sport; it'll only be eleven then--not so very late."

By this time they had passed the lurking scout, who must have heard all

Eves said. A few yards farther along there was a turning on the right,

leading to a small wood. Eves struck into this.

"Come on," he said to Templeton. "See if my strategy doesn't answer."

They concealed themselves in the hedge, and a few seconds later saw

Josiah Noakes run down the road towards the village.

"There you are," said Eves. "Josiah's run to tell his father we're off

shooting rabbits, and the coast is clear. To bring the guns was a

bright idea, Bobby."