"Oh, uncle! you don't think I want to go back?"
"You were asking eagerly enough about it just now."
"Yes--because--I--that is--oh, uncle, don't be cross with me; I can't
help it."
"No, I suppose not, Tom."
"But you don't understand me. I don't want to leave here; I wouldn't go
back to London on any consideration. I--there, I must say it, I--I--
there, I hate Uncle James."
"What!" said Uncle Richard, looking at the boy curiously. "You are
never happy without you are along with him."
"But that's because he is ill, and I thought you wanted me to be
attentive to him."
"Oh!"
"Yes, that's it, uncle. He never liked me, and always used to be cross
with me, and now when he's very bad he's always so fond of me, and keeps
me with him, so that I can't get away, and--and I don't like it at all."
"That's curious, isn't it, Tom?"
"Yes, uncle, I suppose it is, and I can't make it out. I don't
understand it a bit. It's because he is ill, I suppose, and is sorry he
used to be so rough with me. I wish he would get quite well and go back
to London."
"Humph! And you would rather not go up to attend to him?"
"I'd go if you ordered me to, but I should be very miserable if I had
to--worse than I am now. But, uncle, I am doing my best."
"Of course, Tom. There, I did not mean it, my boy. You are doing your
duty admirably to your invalid relative. I hope we both are; and sick
people's fancies are to be studied. I don't think though you need be
quite so blunt, Master Blount, though," added Uncle Richard, smiling.
"I'll try not to be, uncle."
"And talk about hating people. Rather rough kind of Christianity that,
Tom."
"I beg your pardon, it slipped out. I hope I don't hate him."
"So do I, my lad. There, go and do everything you can for him while he
stays. He is certainly much better, and fancies now that he is worse
than he is."
"I'll do everything I can, uncle," said Tom eagerly.
"I know you will, my boy; and as soon as we have set him on his legs
again, you and I will grind the new speculum. The case with the two
discs came down this afternoon while you were out with the chair."
"Oh!" cried Tom eagerly. "You haven't unpacked them without me, uncle?"
"No, and I do not mean to. We'll leave them where they are till our
visitor has gone, and then we shall have to work like black-fellows to
make up for lost time."
"Yes, uncle," cried Tom, rubbing his hands.
"No; like white-fellows," said Uncle Richard, smiling, "and I think we
shall get on faster."
The next morning there was a surprise. It was Saturday, and about
eleven, just when Tom had dragged round the invalid chair ready for the
invalid, he saw a sprucely-dressed figure, with a "button-hole" in his
coat, get down from the station fly, pay the man, and push open the gate
with a cane, whose ivory crutch handle was held by a carefully-gloved
hand.
For a few moments Tom was astounded; then he came to the conclusion that
it was not very wonderful for a son to come down to see his sick father,
and he left the chair, and went to meet his cousin.
"Hallo, bumpkin," said Sam contemptuously, "how are you?"
"Quite well," said Tom hesitatingly, and then frankly holding out his
hand.
"All right; quite well, thanks," said Sam, tapping the extended hand
with the cane. "Don't want to dirt my glove. What have you been
doing--digging potatoes?"
"Only tidying up the chair for Uncle James."
"Hands look grubby. You should wash 'em. I say, what a beastly
out-of-the-way place this is. Where's Uncle Dick? I only had a coffee
and roll before I left London. Can I have some breakfast?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"How's dad?"
"Uncle James is better," said Tom quietly; and just then there was a
loud groaning sound from within the porch.
"Oh--oh--oh!" at regular intervals.
"Hullo!" said Sam; "what's the matter? been killing somebody?"
"No. That's Uncle James being brought down from his room."
"Why, he wrote up and said he was better."
"It's because his breath is so short first thing in the morning."
"Oh, that's it," said Sam coolly, and he gave a sharp look round. "Is
that the old windmill Uncle Dick bought?"
"Yes," said Tom, who felt rather disgusted with his cousin's
indifference and cavalier airs.
At that moment they had nearly reached the porch from which the low
groaning sounds issued, and the brothers appeared, with James
leaning-heavily upon Richard's arm.
Uncle James started on seeing his son, and left off groaning.
"Morning, gov'nor," said Sam. "Better? Morning, Uncle Richard."
"Is--is anything wrong at the office?" cried Uncle James excitedly.
"Wrong? No. We get on all right."
"Then why have you come?"
"Oh, it was Saturday. Mother was going down to Brighton, and I thought
I'd run down here from Saturday to Monday, and see how you were."
"Oh," said Uncle James in a tone of relief; and then he began to moan
softly again, and moved toward the chair.
"Won't you stop for a bit, and chat with Sam?" said Uncle Richard.
"Eh? Yes, if you like," said his brother, hanging upon him feebly.
"But it doesn't much matter now."
"Oh yes, it does, Jem, a good deal. Here, Sam, my lad, try and cheer
your father up with what news you have of his business."
"All right, uncle; but I say, you've got a pretty place here."
"Glad you like it, my lad."
"But I say, uncle, I haven't had my breakfast. Started off so early."
"I dare say something is being got ready for you," replied his uncle,
smiling. "My housekeeper is very thoughtful."
_Click_! came from through the dining-room window.
"That sounds very much like the coffee-pot lid," continued Uncle
Richard. "Take your cousin in, Tom. I'll lead your uncle round the
garden while Sam has his breakfast, and then they can have their chat."
"I couldn't do it, Dick--I couldn't do it," groaned his brother
piteously. "I'm as feeble as a babe."
"Then the fresh air will strengthen you," said Uncle Richard; and
moaning softly as he drew his breath, James Brandon went slowly down the
gravel walk.
"Only does that moaning noise when he thinks about it," said Sam, as he
entered the house.
"No, I've noticed that," replied Tom; but all the same he felt annoyed
by his cousin's brutal indifference. "Let me take your hat."
"No, thanks. Hang it up myself. Don't want it spoiled."
Tom drew back while the hat and cane were deposited in their places; and
then the pair entered the little dining-room, where a luncheon tray was
already placed at one end of the table, but with coffee-pot and
bread-and-butter just being arranged by Mrs Fidler.
"Ah, that's your sort," said Sam; "but I say, old lady, I'm peckish;
haven't you got anything beside this?"
"Some ham is being fried, sir, and some eggs boiled," said Mrs Fidler
rather stiffly.
"Hah! that's better," said Sam; and Mrs Fidler left the room. "Well,
young fellow, how are you getting on?" he continued, as he seated
himself and began upon the breakfast. "What do you do here--clean the
knives and boots?"
"No," said Tom.
"I thought you did. Hands look grubby enough."
Tom glanced at his hands, and saw that they were as rough and red as his
cousin's were white and delicate.
"I help uncle do all sorts of things," he said quietly, "and sometimes I
garden."
"And wish yourself back at Mornington Crescent, I'll bet tuppence."
"I haven't yet," said Tom bluntly.
"No; you always were an ungrateful beggar," said Sam in a contemptuous
tone. "But that's about all you were fit for--sort of gardener's boy."
Tom felt a curious sensation tingling in his veins, and his head was
hot, for times had altered now, and he was not quite the same lad as the
one who had submitted to be tyrannised over in town. He was about to
utter some angry retort, but he checked himself.
"I won't quarrel with him," he said to himself; and just then Mrs
Fidler appeared with a covered dish, which she placed before the
visitor.
"Thankye," he said shortly. "Take the cover away with you."
There was always a line or two--anxious-looking lines--upon Mrs
Fidler's forehead; now five or six appeared, and her eyebrows suddenly
grew closer together, and her lips tightened into a thin line, as she
took off the cover, and then went in a very dignified way from the room.
Sam attacked the ham and eggs directly, and made a very hearty meal,
throwing a word or two now and then at his cousin, and asking a few
questions, but in an offhand, assumed, man-about-town style, and without
so much as glancing at Tom, who sat watching him till he had finished
his breakfast, when he rose, cleared his voice, rang the bell, brushed a
few crumbs from his clothes, and took out a cigarette case.
"There!" he said; "I'll join them down the garden now. Which is the
way?"
"I'll take you," said Tom; and just as Mrs Fidler entered, followed by
the maid to clear away, Sam struck a wax-match, lit his cigarette, and
walked out into the little hall and out into the porch, followed by Tom.
"Not a bad part of the country," said Sam condescendingly; "but who does
uncle find to talk to? Precious few decent houses."
"There are plenty," said Tom; "but they are a good way off. There's
uncle at the bottom of the field."
"So I see," said Sam. "I have eyes in my head. Humph! flowers.
Halloo! raspberries!"
He stepped off the green path they were on to where several rows of
neatly-tied-up raspberry canes crossed the garden, and began to pull the
ruddy thimbles off the tiny white cones upon which they grew; while
David, who was on the other side busy removing young pear-tree shoots
from the wall, stared at him aghast.
"Who's that fellow?" said Sam, as he took a whiff, then a raspberry,
alternately.
"Our gardener."
"_Our_, eh? Well, tell him to go on with his work. What's he staring
at?"
"You," said Tom bluntly.
Sam gave him a sharp look and returned to the path, bore off to his
right, and began to examine the trained fruit trees on the wall.
"Pears, peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums," said Sam coolly. "Why,
they're all green and unripe. No, they're not; here's an apricot looks
ready."
David uttered a gasp, for the young visitor stepped on to the neat
border and took hold of the yellow apricot, whose progress the gardener
had been watching for days, gave it a tug, and broke off the twig which
bore it.
"Bah!" he ejaculated, as he dragged away the twig and a wall-nail and
shred. "Why, the wretched thing isn't ripe."
He spat out the mouthful he had taken between his lips, and jerked the
bitten fruit out over the hedge into the lane.
"Well," muttered David, as the two lads went on, "I do call that
imperdence. Wonder what master would ha' said if he'd seen."
"Master" had seen his nephew's act as he came from the other side of the
field with his brother leaning upon his arm, but he made no remark
respecting it.
"You would like to have a chat now with your boy about business, eh,
James?"
"Oh, there's nothing to talk about," said Sam carelessly. "Everything
is all right. I have seen to that. I kept Pringle pretty well up to
his work."
"Poor old Pringle!" thought Tom. "I ought to write to him."
"Sam is right," said the lad's father; "and--and--oh, dear me, how weak
I feel! I don't want to be troubled about business. Take me in now,
Dick."
"Come along, then," said his brother good-humouredly. "Tom, my lad,
you'd better show your cousin about the place, and try and interest
him."
"All right, uncle," was the reply; and the two boys stood watching the
brothers going towards the house.
"I don't know that I want to be shown about," said Sam haughtily. "I'm
not a child. You country people seem to think that we want to see your
cabbages and things. Here, let's go and look at the windmill. I say,
did they have a row about it?"
"What--Uncle James and Uncle Richard?"
"Of course, stupid; who did you think I meant?"
"How could they have a row about the observatory?"
"I said windmill, stupid."
"It's an observatory now," said Tom coldly.
"Observatory! Yes; it looks it. The gov'nor was awfully wild about it.
Nice brother, he said, to go and take the legal business to some one
else instead of to our office. There, come along."
"I must get the keys first."
"Keys? Why, I thought you were all so beautifully innocent, that you
never locked up anything in the country."
"But we do," said Tom. "Wait a minute. I'll soon be back."
"Don't hurry yourself, bumpkin. I'll have some more raspberries."
"I should like to bumpkin him," thought Tom, as he ran in, got the keys,
and hurried back to where Sam was "worrying the rarsps," as David
afterwards indignantly said; and then the boys walked together out into
the lane, and from thence through the gate into the mill-yard.
"Do you ever come here with him moon-shooting?" said Sam contemptuously.
"Uncle has not been doing any astronomy lately," replied Tom; and
feeling that he could not chat about their private life, he refrained
from saying anything about the work upon which they had been engaged,
but contented himself with showing the workshop, and then leading the
way into the laboratory.
"What do you do here?" said Sam, looking contemptuously round.
"This is the laboratory."
"Dear me, how fine we are! What's in these bottles on the shelves?"
"Chemicals."
"That your desk where you do your lessons?"
"No; that's uncle's bureau where he keeps his papers. We're going to
have another table, and some chemistry and astronomical books up soon.
Uncle says that he shall make this an extra study."
"Keeps his papers, eh? His will too, I suppose?"
"I don't know," said Tom.
"Yes, you do. None of your sham with me, I know you, Master Tom. That
the way up-stairs?"
"Yes," said Tom quietly; and they went on up the steps.
"Just as if you wouldn't be artful enough to know all about that. Bound
to say you've read it half-a-dozen times over."
"I haven't looked in uncle's drawers, and if I had I shouldn't have read
any of his papers."
"Not you, of course. Too jolly good; you are such a nice innocent sort
of boy. Halloo! that the telescope? what a tuppenny-ha'penny thing."
"Uncle is going to have a big one soon."
"Oh, is he! What's that door for?"
"To open and look out at the stars."
"And that wheel?"
"To turn the whole of the roof round."
"Turn it then."
Tom obeyed good-humouredly enough, though at heart he resented the
hectoring, bullying way adopted by his cousin, and thought how glad he
would be when Monday came.
Then the shutter was opened, and the lads got out into the little
gallery, where Tom began to point out the beauty of the landscape, and
the distant houses and villages to be seen from the commanding height.
"Isn't there a splendid view?" he said.
"Bosh! I've been at the top of Saint Paul's. Not a bad place to smoke
a cigarette."
He lit one with a great deal of nourish, leaned over the rail, and began
puffing little clouds of smoke into the air; but all the same he did not
seem to enjoy it, and at the end of a few minutes allowed the little
roll of tobacco to go out.
"What time do you dine here?" he said; "seven?"
Tom laughed.
"Two o'clock," he said.
"I said dinner, not lunch, stupid."
"I know what you said," replied Tom, rather sharply, but he changed his
tone directly afterward. "We don't have lunch, but early dinner, and
tea at six."
"How horrible!" said Sam. "Here, let's go down."
He stepped back into the observatory, looking sharply at everything
while Tom secured the shutter, and then they went down into the
laboratory, which evidently took the visitor's attention.
"Wouldn't be a bad place with a good Turkey carpet and some easy-chairs.
I should make it my smoking-room if I lived down here. I mean if I was
transported down here."
"You don't think much of the place," said Tom good-humouredly; "but
you'd like it if you lived here. There's capital fishing in the river,
and the fir-woods swarm with rabbits. Walnut-wood," he added, as his
cousin examined the bureau. "Uncle says the brass-work is very old and
curious, nearly two hundred years, he thinks."
"Got a gun?" said Sam, turning sharply away.
"No."
"Can't you get one? We might go and shoot a few rabbits."
"I don't know whether we could even if there was a gun. They are
preserved about here like the hares and pheasants."
"There are no hares about here?"
"Oh, yes. I've seen several and made them run."
"But no pheasants?"
"Plenty, and as tame as can be. I saw one the other day in our field."
"Here, let's go for a walk," said Sam, the real boyish nature coming out
at last. "I rather like sport, and shall buy a double gun shortly."
They went down; the place was duly locked up, Tom having refrained from
making any allusions to the speculum, and the work on hand, feeling as
he did that his cousin would look upon it with a contemptuous sneer.
Then the keys were returned to the house, and as the two lads stood in
the hall they could hear the invalid talking very loudly to Uncle
Richard, evidently upon some subject in which he took interest, and Sam
laughed.
"What is it?" said Tom, staring.
"The gov'nor. Hear him? He has forgotten how bad he is. No groans
now. Come on."
Tom felt disgusted. He had often noticed the same thing, and formed his
own conclusion; but it annoyed him to hear his cousin holding his
father's weakness up to ridicule; and he followed Sam out into the
garden, and from thence along the sandy lane, thinking what a long time
it would be till Monday, when the visitor would return to town.
They had not gone far along the edge of the pine-wood, when all at once
a dog leaped out, to begin hunting amongst the furze and brambles, and
dart in again.
"What's he after?" cried Sam.
"Rabbits."
As Tom spoke, his cousin struck a match to light a fresh cigarette; and
as he lit up, he became aware of the fact that the long slouching figure
of Pete Warboys was there by a tree, watching his act with profound
interest.
Sam uttered a low laugh full of contempt, as he noticed the lad's eager
gaze, and after sending a curl of smoke floating upon the air, he jerked
the wax-match from him for a few yards, to fall beneath some old dead
furze.
"Have one, joskin?" he said.
Pete Warboys seemed to forget the presence of Tom, and slouched forward,
holding out his hand as he uttered a low hoarse "Ah!"
Sam re-opened his cigarette case and held it out.
"Take two," he said; and Pete did so without hesitation, while Tom stood
frowning. "Know how to smoke them?" said Sam.
"Ah!" growled Pete; and with a sly grin he took a little dirty black
clay pipe from his pocket, and held it up before pulling one of the
cigarettes to pieces and thrusting it in paper and all, without noticing
that he had drawn something out with the pipe, to fall to the ground.
"Want a light?" said Sam; but Pete made no answer, merely pulling a box
of matches out of his pocket and putting it back.
"Come along now," said Tom, hesitating though as he spoke.
"Wait a minute. Like sixpence, joskin?"
"Ah!" replied Pete, showing a set of dirty teeth in a grin.
"Catch then," said Sam, contemptuously tossing the coin through the air;
but Pete was not active enough to seize it, and it fell amongst the
herbage, and had to be searched for. "Got it?"
"Ah!" said Pete, with a grin. "Chuck us another."
"Not this time," replied Sam, with a forced laugh, as he looked at the
fellow. "Like pears?"
"Ah!"
"Here then."
Sam took a well-grown hard Marie Louise pear from his pocket, and Tom
stared. "Catch."
The pear was thrown, caught deftly, and transferred to a pocket in
Pete's ragged trousers where a forgotten hole existed, and the fruit was
seen to run down the leg and re-appear by the lad's boot. Pete grinned,
picked it up, and put the fruit in a safer place.
"Catch again!" cried Sam, bringing out another pear, and throwing it
this time with all his might, evidently with the intention of hitting
the lad a sharp blow.
But the pear was caught as it struck in Pete's palms with a smart
_spang_, and was duly transferred to the lad's pocket.
"What a shame!" thought Tom. "Uncle's choice pears, and they were not
fit to pick."
"Got any more?" cried Pete.
"Yes, one. Have it?" said Sam, drawing out the finest yet, but
disfigured by the marks of teeth, a piece having been bitten out, and
proving too hard and green to be palatable. "Now then, catch."
This one was thrown viciously as a cricket-ball by long-field-off. But
Pete's eyes were keen; he had seen the white patch on the side of the
fruit, and instead of trying to catch it, he ducked his head, and let it
go far away among the fir-trees, the branch of one of which it struck,
and split in pieces.
"No, yer didn't," said Pete, grinning. "I say, chuck us another
sixpence."
"Not this time," said Sam, puffing again at his cigarette and then
staring at Tom, who suddenly threw off the feeling of hesitation which
had kept him back, and made a rush forward in the direction taken by the
pear.
"Where are you going?" cried Sam. "You've got plenty at home."
But Tom paid no heed; his eyes were fixed on the spot where Pete had
stood when he took out his pipe, and made for it.
Pete's eyes had grown sharp from the life he led in the woods, and
amongst the furze of the great heath-like commons, and he saw now the
object which had fallen from his pocket. His sluggish manner was cast
aside, and, as if suddenly galvanised into action, he sprang forward to
secure the little object lying half hidden upon a tuft of ling.
The consequence was a smart collision, the two lads' heads coming
violently in contact, and, according to the conclusions of
mathematicians, flying off at a tangent. The next instant Tom and Pete,
half-stunned, were seated amongst the furze gazing stupidly at each
other.
Tom was the first to recover, and, bending forward, caught up a bit of
twisted brass wire, secured to a short length of string, before rising
to his feet.
Then Pete was up, while Sam smoked and laughed heartily.
"Here, that's mine," cried Pete; "give it to me."
"No," cried Tom, thrusting the wire into his pocket; "you've no business
with a thing like that."
"Give it to me," growled Pete, "or I'll half smash yer."
"_You_ touch me if you dare!" cried Tom fiercely.
"Bravo! ciss! Have it out!" cried Sam, clapping his hands and hissing,
with the effect of bringing the dog trotting up, after doing a little
hunting on its own account.
"You give me that bit of string back, or I'll set the dog at yer," cried
Pete.
"I shall give it to Captain Ranson's keeper," cried Tom; and Pete took a
step forward.
"Fetch him then, boy!" cried Pete, clapping his hands, and a fray seemed
imminent, when Tom unclasped the hands he had clenched, rushed away a
few yards, and Sam stood staring, ready to cheer Pete on to give his
cousin a good hiding as he mentally termed it, for his cousin seemed to
him to have shown the white feather and run.
Then he grasped the reason. Tom had not gone many yards, and was
dancing and stamping about in the middle of some smoke rising from among
the dead furze, and where for a few moments a dull flame rose amidst a
faint crackling, as the fire began to get hold.
"Here, Sam! Pete!" he shouted, "come and help."
But Sam glanced at his bright Oxford shoes and well-cut trousers, and
stood fast, while a malignant grin began to spread over Pete Warboys'
face, as the dog cowered shivering behind him, with its thin tail tucked
between its legs.
Pete thrust both hands down into his pockets, but did not stir to help,
and Tom, after stamping out the fire in one place, had to dash to
another; this being repeated again and again in the exciting moments.
Then he mastered it, and a faint smoke and some blackened furze was all
that was left of what, if left to itself, would have been a great common
fire.
"All out?" said Sam, as his cousin came up hot and panting. "Why, what
a fuss about nothing."
"Fuss!" cried Tom excitedly; "why, if it had been left five minutes the
fir-wood must have caught."
"Bah! green wood won't burn."
"Oh, won't it?" cried Pete. "It just will. Here, you give me my bit o'
string, or I shall go and say I see yer set the furze alight o'
purpose."
"Go and say so then," cried Tom. "No one will believe you. Come along,
Sam."
Tom gave one more look at the blackened furze, and then turned to his
cousin.
"Look here," he said; "you bear witness that this fire is quite out."
"Oh, yes; it's out," said Sam.
"And that Pete Warboys showed us a box of matches."
"Yes, but what of that?"
"Why this," said Tom; "if the fire breaks out again, it will be because
this fellow has set it alight."
Pete's features contracted, and without another word he slouched away
into the wood and disappeared, followed by his dog.
"I say, you hit him there, Tom," said Sam, with a laugh. "Think he
would have done it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Well, a bit of a bonfire wouldn't have done much harm."
"What!" cried Tom, looking at his cousin aghast. "Why, hundreds of
acres of fir-trees might have been burnt. Uncle said there was a small
patch burned one year, and there is so much turpentine in the trees,
that they roared away like a furnace, and if they had not stood alone,
the mischief would have been terrible."
"Then you think that chap had set the furze alight before we came."
"No, I don't," cried Tom sharply, "for I saw you throw a burning
wax-match amongst them, only I was so stupid I never thought of going to
tread upon it."
"Yes, you always were precious chuckle-headed," cried Sam, with a laugh.
"But I don't believe it was my match. If it had gone on burning, and
there had been a row, I should have laid the blame on him."
Tom gave him a quick look and said nothing, but thought a good deal.
Sam noticed the look, and naturally divined his cousin's thoughts.
"Oh," he said, "if you want to get on in the world, it's of no use to
give yourself away. I say, who is that joskin?"
"Pete Warboys, half gipsy sort of fellow. I've seen him poaching. Look
here, this is a wire to catch hares or rabbits with."
Tom took out the wire noose, and held it out to his cousin.
"How do you know? that wouldn't catch a hare."
"It would. The gardener showed me once with a bit of string. Look
here; they drive a peg into the ground if there isn't a furze stump
handy, tie the string to it, and open the wire, so as to make a ring,
and set it in a hare's run."
"What do you mean--its hole in the ground?"
"Hares don't make holes in ground, but run through the same openings in
hedges or amongst the furze and heath. You can see where they have
beaten the grass and stuff down. Then the poachers put the wire ring
upright, the hares run through, and drag the noose tight, and the more
they struggle, the faster they are."
"Oh, that's it, is it? I never lived in the country. Here, catch hold.
No, Stop; let's set it, and try and catch one."
Tom stared.
"I say," he cried; "why I read all about that in _The Justice of the
Peace_,--don't you know that it's punishable?"
"Of course for the joskins, but they wouldn't say anything to a
gentleman who did it for experiment."
Tom laughed.
"I shouldn't like a keeper to catch me doing it."
"I said a gentleman," said Sam coolly. "So that's a young poacher, is
it?"
"Yes, and I thought it was a pity for you to give him money."
"Oh, I always like to behave well to the lower orders and servants when
I'm out on a visit," said Sam. "Here, let's get back."
"Back! why, I thought we were going for a long walk," cried Tom.
"Well, we've had one. Suppose we went further, you cannot get a cab
home, I suppose?"
"No," said Tom quietly, and with a faint smile. "You couldn't get any
cabs here."
Sam turned back, and Tom followed his example, thinking the while about
their adventure, and of what a terrible fire there might have been.
"What are you going to do with that wire?"
"Show it to uncle," said Tom quietly, "and then burn it."
"Bah! brass wire won't burn."
"Oh yes, it will," said Tom confidently. "Burn all away."
"How do you know?"
"Chemistry," said Tom. "I've read so. You can burn iron and steel all
away."
"No wonder you couldn't get on with the law," said Sam, with a sneer.
"Here, come on; I'm tired."