ANOTHER STEP DOWN
IT was late that night before Tad reached the village of Pine Hill and
approached the little, homely, old-fashioned inn which went by the name
of "The Traveller's Rest," this being the sign of the first inn ever
built in the place, hundreds of years before.
The house was kept by a very respectable man, called Anthony Robson,
and Tad had often heard his father speak of Tony Rob (as he called him)
in high terms as a thoroughly good fellow.
"Please can I have a bit of supper and a corner to lie down in?" asked
Tad, timidly addressing the landlord, whose burly form was resting in a
big armchair in the chimney corner.
Apparently he was having a little rest and a last pipe before locking
up his house for the night and going to bed.
Tony Robson stared at the lad for what seemed to Tad an age before he
replied. Then as he saw him cringe a little before the questioning gaze
fixed upon him, he said:
"Ain't you rather a whipper-snapper to be goin' journeyin' by yourself
at this time of night, and Sunday too? What's your name?"
Tad hesitated, with downcast eyes. If he gave his real name, the
landlord might prevent his going any further; for he knew James Poole,
and would guess that the boy was going away from his home without leave.
"No," thought Tad, "I must give another name."
Then as Tony, with his face growing a little stern and suspicious,
again asked the question, the boy replied with the first name he
could think of—Hal Barnes—this being the name of one of his former
school-fellows who was now a farmer's boy living some miles from
Ponderton.
"And where may you be goin', Hal Barnes?" asked Tony.
The second lie is always easier than the first, and to this question
Tad replied glibly enough:
"I'm a-goin' to Crest Mount, sir; goin' after a page's place up at
the squire's. I'm to see him at ten sharp to-morrow mornin', and I
couldn't do this unless I slept here to-night, for I comes from beyond
Ponderton. Else I don't care for takin the road Sunday, and wouldn't
have done it, if I could anyways manage different."
"Dear me!" said Tad to himself. "How nat'ral and easy all that pretty
little tale sounded!"
The landlord seemed to think so too, for his face lost its stern
expression, and he said:
"Oh, that's it, is it? But Crest Mount is a goodish way, even from
here; a matter of five mile or so."
"Oh, I don't mind a walk, sir," said Tad, "and I shall be rested by
to-morrow."
"Well now," said Tony Robson, "I take it you don't want nothin' very
expensive in the way of supper and bed, do you?"
"No, sir, I haven't got much money, and I can't afford anything but the
cheapest."
"It's too late to cook you anything, and the wife's gone to bed, but
you can have a slice of ham and a cut of the home-made loaf, and a pint
mug of milk. Will that do for supper?"
"Oh dear yes, sir, thank you," replied Tad.
"And as for a bed, what do you say to a good shakedown of clean hay in
the loft? It's sweet and wholesome, and you won't have to pay nothin'
for it, so that'll leave you able to afford a bit of breakfast in the
mornin'. My dame shall give you a good bowl of oatmeal and milk afore
you start off for Crest Mount."
"Thank you kindly, sir; I'm much obliged," said Tad.
And glad to get out of answering any more questions, and of being
forced to draw upon his imagination for his facts, he ate his supper
and then thankfully went to bed in the loft among the scented hay,
where, being very weary, he fell asleep at once, only coming back to
consciousness when the landlord's stable-boy came in for hay for the
horses of some early travellers.
Tad ate his porridge, paid his reckoning, and walked briskly on,
avoiding the busy high roads as much as possible, and taking short cuts
across fields and through copses, lest he should chance to meet some
one he knew.
Once, about three miles from Crest Mount, he got a lift in a baker's
cart, so it was only noon when he reached the place. There he bought at
the post-office, which was also a stationer's shop, a sheet of paper, a
pencil, an envelope, and a penny stamp, and carrying them to the Green
where there were some benches, he sat down and wrote to his father,
giving him an account of how the baby had been stolen, and adding that
as he did not dare to face his stepmother after what had happened, he
should not come home any more. He sent his best love to Bert and Nell,
expressed a hope that the baby might soon be found, and remained James
Poole's dutiful son, Tad.
When the letter was posted, the boy felt as though he had shaken off a
weight. Now he need stay no longer in Crest Mount; he would only just
buy himself a little loaf and a couple of apples for his dinner, and
then push on towards a small seaport called Upland Bay.
Though Ponderton—the place where he had lived all his life—was not very
far from the coast, Tad had never yet seen the sea. But he had read
wonderful things about it in the absurd penny dreadfuls that he had
got hold of now and again. His head was full of pirates, of marvellous
adventures on strange islands, of grand discoveries of countless
treasures in all sorts of unlikely places. Also he had a vague idea
that, somehow or other, the sea brought luck sure and certain, and that
if he could only manage to get to the shore, his fortune was as good as
made.
He walked on all day, only stopping now and again to ask his way, or to
beg a drink of water or buttermilk at the farms he passed. But it was
dark by the time he reached the little town of Upland Bay—a picturesque
place, perched high upon a bold cliff, while, on the inland side, a
wide reach of breezy downs and cornfields stretched away for miles, as
it seemed to Tad when he peered through the darkness.
As he trudged up the High Street, looking curiously about him, and
eagerly inhaling the cool, strong, salt air, he was suddenly brought to
a stand in front of the police-station. For there, in full glare of a
lamp, he saw a large written notice posted up. With blanched cheeks and
starting eyes he read these words:
"Missing since yesterday morning, Sunday, September 2nd, Edward Poole
of Ponderton, aged fourteen, having with him a baby boy about eight
months old. When last seen was carrying the child and a basket through
the streets of Ponderton. The lad has a big head and thin body, and was
dressed in a dark grey suit with a cap of the same, and the baby in
a red flannel dress and coat. A reward will be paid to anyone giving
information that may lead to the finding of the lad and infant."
Here, at least, in this out-of-the-way place, Tad had thought to feel
himself safe; but even here the hue and cry was after him, and a reward
offered for his capture. Assuredly Mrs. Poole had lost no time. The
telegraph had been set to work, and probably at every little town and
village within twenty miles of Ponderton, a written notice had been
posted.