great consumption of fuel. And one morning, on coming in to his tutor's
from early school, Saurin heard the small thunder of coals being poured
into the cellar, and saw the yard door open, a wagon outside, and a man
staggering from it under a sack. He ran up to his room, threw down his
books, took the wax, and went back to the yard door, where he took a
great interest in the unlading of the sacks. A fine sleet was falling,
with a bitter north-east wind, to make it cut the face, so that there
were none of the servants outside, and no one to see him but the two men
who were busied in their work. Never was such an opportunity. He had
the least possible difficulty in taking the key out of the lock,
pressing it on the wax in the palm of his hand, in the way Marriner had
shown him, and replacing it without attracting observation. Then he
returned to his room, whistling carelessly, and putting the wax, which
had the wards of the key sharply defined upon it, in a seidlitz-powder
box, to prevent the impression being injured, he locked it up in his
bureau and went to breakfast.
Now that this had been accomplished so favourably, it seemed a pity not
to have the key made. He might probably never want to use it; but
still, there was a pleasant sense of superiority in the knowledge that
he was independent of the "All In," and could get out at any hour of the
night that he chose. So the next time he went to Marriner's cottage he
took the box containing the wax with him, and Marriner paid him the high
compliment that a professional burglar could not have done the job
better. A week after, he gave him the key, and one night, after
everyone had gone to bed, Saurin stole down-stairs, out into the yard,
and tried it. It turned in the lock easily, the door opened without
noise, and he was free to go where he liked. Only there was no place so
good as bed to go to, so he closed and locked the door again, and went
back to his room, feeling very clever and a sort of hero. I am sure I
do not know why. No one was taken into his confidence but Edwards, and
he only because it was necessary to talk to somebody about his poaching
schemes, and to excite wonder and admiration at his inventive skill and
daring courage, and this Edwards was ready at all times to express. He
was never taken to Marriner's, but he still occasionally accompanied his
friend to the yard--on Sundays, usually, because of the card-playing, to
which he had taken a great fancy. He still thought in his heart that it
was very wrong, but Saurin laughed at such scruples as being so very
childish and silly that he was thoroughly ashamed of them. Saurin, who
was so clever and manly that he must know better than he did, saw no
harm. Besides, he was very fond of playing at cards, and though he did
not much like the very low company he met at Slam's yard now, he told
himself that what was fit for Saurin was fit for him, and it was
desirable, beneficial, and the correct thing to see life in all its
phases. His hero's defeat by Crawley had not diminished his devotion
one iota, for he attributed it entirely to Saurin having crippled his
left hand when he knocked his adversary down. Even then he believed
that Saurin would have won, only Crawley was in training, and the other
was not. Crawley was all very well, but he lacked that bold and heroic
defiance of authority which fascinated Edwards (himself the most
subordinate soul by nature, by the way). The idea of Crawley's daring
even to dream of going poaching, or breaking out at night, or having a
false key made! No, he was a good commonplace fellow enough, but Saurin
was something unusual,--which it is fervently to be hoped he was. Poor
Edwards, with his weak character, which made it necessary for him to
believe in someone and yield him homage; what a pity it was he had not
fixed on a different sort of hero to worship!
CHAPTER EIGHT.
ANOTHER PROJECT OF EVASION.
Frost, hard, sharp, crisp, and unmistakable; do you like it? It is very
unpleasant when you get up of a morning; the water is so cold. And then
going to school shivering, and being put on to construe when you have
the hot ache in your fingers, is trying to the patience, especially if
one is inclined to self-indulgence, and is aided and abetted when at
home by one's mother.
But everything has its compensations. Without work play would become a
bore; if there were no hunger and thirst there would be no pleasure in
eating and drinking; even illness is followed by convalescence, with
story-books to read instead of lessons, and licence to lie in bed as
long as you like, and so there is the delight, in very cold weather, of
getting warm again; and there is also skating. Whether we like it or
not we have to put up with it when it comes, and it came that year at an
unusual time, before the end of November. We often indeed have just a
touch at that period, three days about, and then sleet and rain; but
this was a regular good one, thermometer at nineteen Fahrenheit, no
wind, no snow, and the gravel-pits bearing. The gravel-pits were so
called because there was no gravel there. There had been, but it was
dug out, and carted away before the memory of the oldest inhabitant, and
the cavities were filled with water. There were quite three acres of
available surface altogether, and not farther than a mile from Weston;
but "_Ars longa, vita brevis est_;" the art of cutting figures is long,
and the period of practice short indeed. Considering the price spent on
skates in England, and the few opportunities of putting them on, it
seems barbarous of masters not to give whole holidays when the ice
_does_ bear. But then what would parents and guardians say? A boy
cannot skate himself into the smallest public appointment, and the rule
of three is of much more importance to his future prospects than the
cutting of that figure. The Westonians made the most they could of
their opportunity, however, and whenever they had an hour to spare the
gravel-pits swarmed with them. Their natural tendency was to rapid
running, racing, and hockey; but Leblanc, who was born in Canada, where
his father held an appointment, and who had worn skates almost as soon
as he had shoes, did such wonderful things as set a large number of them
practising figure skating. Buller was bitten by the mania; he had never
tried anything before but simple straightforward running on the flat of
the skate with bent knees, so he had a great deal to learn; but with his
usual persistency, when he once took anything in hand he did not regard
the difficulties, and only dreaded lest he should not have sufficient
opportunity of practising. He began, of course, by endeavouring to
master the outside edge, which is the grammar of figure skating, and
watched Leblanc, but could make nothing out of that, for Leblanc seemed
to move by volition, as some birds appear to skim along without any
motion of the wings. He could not give hints, or show how anything was
done, because he could not understand where any difficulty lay. It was
like simple walking to him; you get up and walk, you could not show any
one exactly _how_ to walk.
But there were two or three other fair skaters from whom more could be
learned; Penryhn, for example, was a very decent performer of simple
figures. He came from a northern county, where there was yearly
opportunity of practice, and had been taught by his father, who was an
excellent skater.
"The first great thing you must always bear in mind," said he, "is that
the leg upon which you stand, while on the outside edge, must be kept
straight and stiff, with the knee rigidly braced. You see some fellows
there practising by crossing the legs; while they are on one leg they
bring the other in front, and across it, before they put it down on the
ice. This certainly forces you to get on to the outside edge, but it
twists the body into a wrong position--one in which the all-important
thing in skating, balance, cannot be acquired. Besides, it gets you
into a way of bringing the foot off the ground to the front, whereas it
ought always to be a little behind the one you are skating on, and it
takes as long to get out of that habit as to learn the outside edge
altogether pretty well. Why, here is Old Algebra positively with a pair
of skates on!"
"Old Algebra," as a mathematical genius, whose real name was Smith, was
called, skated very well too.
"Look here, Algebra," cried Penryhn, "I am trying to show Buller how to
do the outside edge; can't you give him a scientific wrinkle?"
"The reason why you find an initial difficulty in the matter," said
Algebra gravely, adjusting his spectacles, "is that you naturally
suppose that if you bend so far out of the perpendicular, the laws of
gravity must cause you to fall. But that is because you omit the
centrifugal force from your consideration; remember what centrifugal
force is, Buller, and it will give you confidence."
"Oh, I have confidence enough!" said Buller; "it's the power of getting
on to the edge without overbalancing myself that I want, and all that
rot about the laws of gravity won't help me."
"I fancied they wouldn't, but Penryhn asked for a scientific wrinkle.
If you want a practical one, keep the head and body erect, never looking
down at the ice; when you strike out with the right foot, look over the
right shoulder; body and foot are sure to follow the eye, and clasp your
hands behind you, or keep them at your sides; do anything but sway them
about. That's it, you got on to the outside edge then; now boldly with
the left foot, and look over the left shoulder. Never mind (Buller had
come a cropper); you fell then because you did not let yourself go, but
when your skate took the outside edge you tried to recover. You lacked
confidence, in short, in the centrifugal force, and bothered yourself,
instinctively, without knowing it, with the laws of gravity. Try again;
you stick to that. Rigidity. Right foot--look over right shoulder, not
too far, just a turn of the head. Left foot--look over left shoulder.
There, you did not fall then. Trust to the centrifugal force, that's
the thing," and he swept away with a long easy roll.
"A capital coach he would make," said Penryhn, admiringly. "He always
tells you just what you want to know without bothering."
"Yes," said Buller, "I have asked him things in lessons once or twice,
and he made it all as clear as possible, but I didn't know he was good
for anything else. This is a grand idea for learning to skate, though;
look here, this is all right, is it not?"
"Yes, you have got it now; lean outwards a little more, and don't bend
forward. The weight should be on the centre of the foot."
There are few sensations more delightful than the first confident sweep
on the outside edge, with the blade biting well into the clear smooth
ice, and Buller felt as if he could never have enough of it, and he kept
on, trying to make larger and larger segments of a circle, not heeding
the falls he got for the next half-hour, when it was time to be getting
back, and he had reluctantly to take his skates off, and jog home at a
trot. The next chance he had he was back to the ice and at it again.
Others who had got as far as he had began practising threes, or trying
to skate backwards, but not so Buller. He must have that outside edge
perfectly, and make complete circles on it, without hesitation or
wobbling, much less falling, before he attempted anything else.
Progress did not seem slow to him, he was used to that in everything,
and he was surprised at improving as quickly as he did. All he dreaded
was a heavy snow-fall, or a breaking up of the frost, and either
calamity was to be expected from hour to hour. Before going to bed on
the night of the third day of the ice bearing, he drew the curtain and
looked out of window. The moon was nearly full, there was not a breath
of wind stirring to shake the hoar-frost off the trees; all was hard,
and bright, and clear. How splendid the pits would be now! How
glorious to have the whole sheet of ice to one's self! why, with such a
chance of solitary practice he might well expect to cut an eight, for he
could already complete entire circles on each foot. If it were not for
the bars to his window he would certainly go. The lane below had no
building to overlook it; none of the windows of that part of the house
where Dr Jolliffe and his family, and the servants slept, commanded the
lane. He would have no other house to pass on the way to the gravel-
pits; really there would be no risk to speak of at all. The window was
barely more than six feet, certainly not seven from the ground, and the
brick wall old and full of inequalities where the mortar had fallen out,
and the toe might rest; with a yard of rope dangling from the sill, to
get in again would be the easiest thing possible. The more he thought
about it the more simple the whole scheme seemed; if it were not for the
bars. He examined them. The removal of one would be sufficient.
"You beast!" said Buller, seizing and shaking it. It seemed to give a
little, and he shook it again: it certainly was not very tight, and he
examined it further. It fitted into the woodwork of the window-frame at
the top, and terminated at the bottom in a flat plate, perforated with
three holes, by which it was secured by nails to the sill. Nails? no,
by Jove, screws! Only the paint had filled in the little creases at the
top of them, and it was simple enough to pick that off. His pocket-
knife had a screw-driver at the top of it, he applied this and turned
it; the screw came up like a lamb. So did the second; so did the third.
The bar was free at the bottom, and when he pulled it towards him it
came out in his hand! He replaced it, just to see if it would be all
right. It was the simplest thing in the world, you could not tell that
it had been touched. So he took it out again, laid it aside carefully,
and considered.
He had no rope, but there was a leather belt, which he buckled round one
of the other bars, dropping the end outside. Perhaps that would give
rather a slight grip, so he also got out a woollen scarf, such as is
sometimes called a "comforter," which he possessed, and fastened that to
the bar also. With that there could be no difficulty in getting in
again. Should he give Penryhn or any other fellow a chance of
accompanying him? Well, on the whole, no. It was impossible that it
should be discovered, but still, apparent impossibilities do happen
sometimes. Suppose one of the masters had a fancy for a moonlight
skate! He did not mind risking his own skin, when the risk was so
slight, but to get another fellow into a row was an awful idea.
Besides, two would make more noise getting out and in than one, and the
other might laugh, or call out, or play the fool in some way or another.
And as for being alone in the expedition, Buller rather liked that than
otherwise. He was rather given to going his own way, and carrying out
his own ideas unhampered by other people's suggestions.
So he quickly determined to keep his counsel and disturb no one. He had
blown his candle out before first trying the bar, and had been working
by the bright moonlight. Then he fastened his skates round his neck, so
that they should neither impede his movements, nor clatter, and put one
leg out of window, then the other, turned round, let himself down by the
hands, and dropped into the lane. He looked up to see that the scarf
was hanging all right; it was within easy reach of both hands; he gave
it a pull to try it, and being satisfied, got over into the field, and
started at a jog-trot for the gravel-pits. It was glorious; utter
stillness--the clear sheet of ice flooded with the moonbeams, a romantic
sense of solitude, and a touch of triumphant feeling in having got the
best of the world, and utilising such a magnificent time, while others
were wasting it in bed. He put his skates on and began. Whether the
exhilaration of stealing a march upon everybody, or the impossibility of
running up against anyone, or the confidence inspired by solitude, and
the absolute freedom from being laughed at if he fell, were the cause,
he had never gone like this before. Striking out firmly from the start,
he went round the sheet of ice in splendid curves, the outside edge
coming naturally to him now. A long sweep on the right foot, a long
sweep on the left, round and round, with arms folded or clasped behind
him. Not a trip, not a stumble, not a momentary struggle to retain the
balance. It was splendid! Then at last he began with the circles which
he was so anxious to perfect himself in. Round he went on his right, in
smaller compass than he had ever accomplished one yet, with plenty of
impetus to bring him round at the end. Then round on the left, quite
easily, without an effort. Again with the right, and so on, a capital
eight. It was like magic, as if he had acquired the art in an instant.
Or was he in bed and dreaming that he was skating? It really seemed
like it. If it were so, he did not care how long it was before he was
roused. But no, he was wide awake, and the phenomenon was simply the
result of confidence, following on good and persevering practice in the
right direction. Breaking away from his eight, he swung round and round
the pond again as fast as he could go. Then he tried a three; the first
half on the outside edge, forwards was easy enough, and he found no
difficulty in turning on the toe, but he could not complete the tail on
the inside edge backwards without staggering and wobbling. He had a
good two hours of it, and then the moon disappeared behind a bank of
clouds and he prepared to go home. Skating in the dark would be poor
fun, and besides it was very late, so he made for the bank, took his
skates off, and jogged back.
Mr Rabbits, one of the masters, who was great at chemistry, and could
tell you to a grain how much poison you swallowed in that water for
which the Gradus sarcastically gives _pura_ as a standing epithet, had
been asked by the vicar of Penredding, a village five miles off, to give
a lecture in his school-room to the parishioners, one of a series of
simple entertainments which were got up to cheer the long evenings in
the winter months. The vicar was an old college friend of Mr Rabbits,
who gladly consented, and like a wise man chose the subject which he was
best up in, writing a very amusing and instructive but very elementary
paper on Light, with plenty of illustrations and simple experiments,
which kept his audience in a state of wonder and delight the whole
evening, and sent them home with plenty to think and talk about
afterwards. It was necessary to have a very early and hurried dinner,
the lecture beginning at seven, so Mr Rabbits went back to the vicarage
after it was over, to supper, after which there was a chat about the old
college boat and so forth, and it was rather late when he started for
home. He had refused the offer of a conveyance, considering that the
five miles walk on a bright still frosty night would be a luxury, and so
he found it, though for the latter part of his journey the moon was
obscured. It was not so dark, however, as to prevent his distinguishing
objects, and as he passed along the lane by which he entered Weston he
was sure he saw someone lurking under the wall at the back of Dr
Jolliffe's house. Suspecting there was something wrong, he got into the
shade under the hedge and crept noiselessly along, taking out of his
pocket a piece of magnesium wire which he had made use of in his
lecture, and a match-box. Presently he saw the figure raise itself from
the ground towards a window, and immediately struck a match and ignited
the wire, which he held over his head. The whole side of the house was
at once as bright as day, and a boy was distinctly seen getting in at
the window.
"Buller!" exclaimed Mr Rabbits, "what are you doing there?"
"Please, sir, I am getting in," said poor Buller.
"So I perceive," said Mr Rabbits; "but what right have you there?"
"It's my own room, please, sir."
"Well, but what right then had you out of it at this time of night?"
"None at all, sir, I am afraid."
"Then why did you do it?"
"I hoped not to be seen, sir."
"Hum! What have you been doing?"
"Skating, sir."
"I shall report you in the morning."
Poor Tom Buller! How crest-fallen he felt as he conscientiously
replaced the bar, and screwed it down again. How heavy his heart was as
he took his clothes off and got into bed? What a fool he had been, he
thought, and yet at the same time how awfully unlucky. Wrecked at the
moment of entering the port! However, it was done now, and could not be
helped; he must stand the racket. He supposed he should get off with a
flogging. Surely they would not expel him for such a thing as that. Of
course they would make an awful row about his breaking out at night, but
he had not done any harm when he _was_ out. And the doctor was a good-
natured chap, he certainly would let him off with a rowing and a
flogging. He had never been flogged; did it hurt very much, he
wondered? at all events it would soon be over. He had thought for a
moment while skating that perhaps it was a dream; how jolly it would be
if it could only prove a dream, and he could wake up in the morning and
find that the whole business was fancy. What a good job that he had not
told Penryhn, and got him into a row as well. What a nuisance that old
Rabbits was to come by just at the wrong moment; five minutes earlier or
five minutes later it would have been all right. What thing was that he
lighted? What a tremendous flare it made, to be sure. Well, it was no
use bothering; happen what might he had a jolly good skate, and was firm
on the outside edge for ever. Now the thaw might come if it liked, and
Tom, who was a bit of a philosopher, went to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE.
THE POACHERS.
Buller was not the only Weston boy who broke out unlawfully that night.
From Mr Cookson's house as from Dr Jolliffe's an adventurer stole
forth. But Saurin's object was not so innocent as Buller's, neither was
it so unpremeditated. For he nursed felonious designs against Lord
Woodruff's pheasants, and the project had been deliberately planned,
and, as we know, the key which was to open the yard door cunningly
manufactured, a long time beforehand.
Edwards, as a result of talking about the expedition, and his friend's
glowing anticipation of the fun of it, became quite anxious to join in.
But Marriner did not think this advisable when Saurin put the matter to
him. They only had one air-gun, and two were quite enough for a
stealthy excursion of this kind. A third could take no part in the
proceedings, and would only be an extra chance of attracting
observation. As a matter of fact, Marriner would rather have been quite
alone, as his custom was on these predatory occasions, and it was only
his desire to make Saurin an accomplice, and so seal his mouth, which
induced him to depart from his ordinary custom now. And to tell the
truth, when the time actually came, and Edwards saw his friend steal
along the yard, unlock and open the door at the further end, and close
it behind him, he was glad in his heart that he was not going too. Not
because it was wrong: he had got his ideas so twisted that he thought it
an heroic piece of business altogether, and admired Saurin for his
lawless daring. But he felt conscious of not being cast in the heroic
mould himself, and actually shuddered at the thought of gliding about
the woods at dead of night, thinking that someone was watching him
behind every tree, and might spring out upon him at any moment.
Especially when he curled himself up in bed, and pulled the blankets
snugly round him, did he feel convinced that he was far more comfortable
where he was than he would have been in Lord Woodruff's preserves.
Saurin had no compunctions of this sort; _he_ did not flinch when the
time came; on the contrary, when he found himself out in the fields he
felt a keen thrill of enjoyment. There was just enough sense of danger
for excitement, not enough for unpleasant nervousness. To be engaged in
what was forbidden was always a source of delight to him, and here he
was braving the rules of his school and breaking the laws of his country
all at once: it was like champagne to him. Yet it was the very height
of absurdity to risk expulsion, imprisonment, perhaps penal servitude
for _nothing_, literally for _nothing_.