Sam Brandon timed himself so accurately that he was crossing the little
river-ford just as it was so dark that he could hardly make out the
stepping-stones. But he got over quite dry, and after a short walk on
the level, began to mount the sandy hill which formed part of the way
entering Furzebrough at the top end, and led him by the fork in the road
down one side of which his father had steered the bath-chair, and
plunged into the soft sand of the great pit.
It was a soft, silent time, and the place seemed to be terribly lonely
to one accustomed to the gas-lamps of London streets. The shadows under
the hedges were so deep that they appeared likely to hide lurkers who
might suddenly leap out to rob, perhaps murder, for with all his outward
show in bravado, Sam Brandon felt extremely uneasy consequent about the
mission which had brought him down there, and he at once decided that it
would be better to walk in the middle of the road.
Five minutes later he had to take the path again, for he met a horse and
cart, the driver shouting a friendly good-night, to which Sam responded
with a stifled cry of alarm, for he had nearly run against a man who
suddenly appeared in the darkness, but proved to be quite an inoffensive
personage bound for home.
Then as the crown of the hill was reached, there was the great gloomy
fir-wood, whose columns stood up quite close to the road, and under
whose shade Sam had to make his way toward the village, thinking deeply
the while, that after all his task was not so easy as it seemed before
he came down into the country.
"No fear of being seen though," he thought, as he went on, continually
on the look-out for danger to himself, but seeing none, hearing none,
till he was in the deepest part of the sandy lane, with the side of the
fir-wood on his right, a hedge-topped bank on the left.
It was darker now than ever; and as it was early yet for the work he had
in hand, he had slackened speed, and finally stopped short, hesitating
about going on.
"What a horrible, cut-throat-looking place!" he muttered, as he tried to
pierce the gloom which hid the beautifully--draped sand-banks dotted
with ferns, and made lovely by flowers at all times of the year. "Any
one might be in hiding there, ready to spring out."
He had hardly thought this when he uttered a cry of horror, swung round,
and ran as hard as he could back toward the crown of the hill, for all
at once there was a peculiar sound, like the magnified hiss of some
large serpent, and, looking up, he could dimly see against the starlit
sky a gigantic head with curling horns, whose owner was evidently gazing
down upon him where he stood in the middle of the lane twenty feet
below.
Sam Brandon must have run five hundred yards back before want of breath
compelled a slackening of speed, and his panic fear gave place to
common-sense.
"What a fool I am!" he said to himself, with wonderful accuracy; "it
must have been some precious old cow."
This thought brought him quite to a stand, and after a little
consideration, he felt so certain of the cause of his alarm that he
turned and continued his route again toward the village, reaching the
dark part, hesitating for a few moments before going on, and now hearing
up to the left and over the dimly-seen hedgerow the regular _crop, crop,
crop_ of some animal grazing upon the crisp dew-wet grass.
"If anybody had told me," he muttered, "that I could have been scared by
a jolly old cow, I should have kicked him. How absurd!"
He walked on now firmly enough, till, in spite of the darkness, the road
became more familiar, and in due time he could see the lights at
Heatherleigh, and looking up to his right against the starry sky, the
top of the great mill.
It was too soon, he felt, and turning back, pretty well strung up now to
what was rapidly assuming the aspect of a desperate venture, he walked
on till the golden sand looked light upon his left, and showed a way
into the wood. Here he turned off, walked cautiously in amongst the
tall columns for a few yards, and then sat down on the fir-needles,
listened to find that all was still, and taking out cigarette-case and
match-box he struck a light and began to smoke, sheltering the bright
burning end of the little roll of tobacco, and trying as he rested to
improve his plans.
For he was hot and tired. He had found the station beyond Furzebrough
quite seven miles from the village, and being a perfectly fresh route to
him, it had seemed twice as far; while the fact that he wished to keep
his visit a profound secret forced him to refrain from asking questions
as to the way, after being instructed by the station-master at the
first.
It was restful and pleasant there on the soft natural couch of sand and
fir-needles, and after a time Sam's head began to bow and nod, and then,
just as he was dropping off fast asleep, the cigarette, which he had
been puffing at mechanically, dropped from his lips and fell in his lap.
In a few minutes the fume which had been rising changed its odour from
burning vegetable to smouldering animal, and Sam leaped up with a yell
of pain, to hastily clap his hands to a bright little round hole upon
the leg of his trousers, where the woollen material had caught fire and
burned through to his skin.
"Hang the stupid thing!" he grumbled, as he squeezed the cloth and put
out the tiny glowing spark. "Must have dropped off. Looked nice if I'd
slept all night in this idiotic place. Too soon yet, but I mustn't go
to sleep again."
To avoid this he began to walk up and down among the trees, but
carefully kept close to the road, for he grasped the fact that it would
be very easy to go astray in a fir-wood at night.
Now as the dark hours are those when certain animals which live in the
shade of trees choose for their rambles abroad, it so happened that one
of these creatures was awake, had left its hole, and was prowling about
on mischief bent, when the yell Sam Brandon uttered rose on the night
air.
The first effect was to cause the prowler to start off and run; the
second caused curiosity, and made the said prowler begin to crawl
cautiously toward the spot from whence the cry arose, and in and out
among the tree-trunks, till the shadowy figure of Sam could be seen
going to and fro to avoid more sleep.
Then, as the prowler lay near at hand upon his chest watching, there
came a time when Sam went down upon his knees in the densest spot near,
to shelter himself from observation while he lit a fresh cigarette.
Now it so happened that the darkest spot was close to where the prowler
lay without being able to escape, as it would have caused a noise, and
consequent betrayal.
Then after selecting a cigarette by touch, and opening his match-box,
Sam struck a little wax taper, began to light his cigarette, and
naturally held the flame so near his face that, as he knelt there, it
was well illumined for the benefit of the prowler, who crouched close
and stared hard, expecting moment by moment to be seen.
But Sam saw nothing for the glare, while the prowler recognised his
features, and lay still and waited close by the smoker till nearly
another hour had elapsed, when Sam drew a long deep breath and said
softly--
"Now for it."
For _it_ meant money, freedom from all domination, and, as the lad
thought very unwisely, a general sense of independence of father and the
whole world; though in carrying out this act he was riveting, so to
speak, moral fetters round his wrists.
He had had hard work to string himself up to his task, but now he showed
plenty of determination, and going back into the lane, he walked rapidly
toward Heatherleigh, passing nobody on his way.
Upon reaching the bottom of the garden he hesitated for a few moments,
peering over the hedge at the house; then seeking the palings, and
looking over them at a spot where the trees were rather open, and,
lastly, making his way to the gate, where he satisfied himself that
there were only two lights visible there--in the servants' part of the
house, and in the little dining-room.
Apparently contented, he walked back to where the yard wall turned off
at right angles, and following this for a few yards, he climbed over and
made his way like a dark shadow close up to the mill, where he stood
listening and looking sharply round.
All was still, and in spite of the glittering stars, it was very dark
close up to the tall brick building--so black, in fact, that unless
close up, there was not the slightest probability of his being seen even
by any one upon the watch.
Satisfied of this, he went softly to the door, took hold of the handle,
and tried it, pressing hard at the same time, in expectation that it
might yield, as people were so careless about locking up in the country.
But he was soon convinced that the door was securely fastened, and he
moved now to one of the workshop windows and tried it, with no result.
Then he gave it a sharp shake, but there was no suggestion of its
yielding, and he at once went right round to the other side and tried
the window there.
The result was the same, and he uttered a low ejaculation indicative of
his vexation on finding everything so secure.
"More ways than one of killing a cat," he said softly, and taking a
large screw-driver from his pocket, he was in the act of thrusting its
wedgelike flat point in beneath the framework of the casement when there
was a step behind him, and as he turned sharply, it was to face a tall,
thin, rough-looking figure, very indistinctly seen as it stood close to
him, and the word "Halloo!" was whispered hoarsely almost in his ear.
For a few moments Sam was paralysed. Then he recovered himself, and
stepping back he raised the screw-driver, as if it had been a short
Roman sword.
"You hit me," said the shadowy figure, "and I'll let you have this
hedgestake right on the head."
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" said Sam, in a subdued voice.
"And who are you, and what are you a-doin' of here?" was the retort.
"You give me any of your mouth, and I'll go and ring the old man's
bell."
Sam had met his match, and stood thinking what course he should pursue
when his interrupter continued--
"I know: you're come because the old man arn't at home. Think I don't
know yer?"
"Hush! hold your tongue!" said Sam, and for the moment he felt disposed
to run for it; but there was the fact that, dark as it was, he had been
recognised, and if he had any doubt it was dispelled by his companion
saying with a faint laugh--
"Got any more o' them pears?"
"No," said Sam shortly; and recovering himself a little, "What do you
want?"
"To see what you're a-going to do," was the reply.
"But you've no business here, sir," said Sam haughtily.
"More have you. I arn't a fool. I see you trying to break open the
winders with that thing."
"It's a lie; you didn't."
"Oh yes, I did. I know; I can see in the dark. What are you after?"
Sam was silent, and the disposition was on him strongly now to strike
the fellow down.
He dismissed the thought again, feeling how useless it would be to make
him an enemy, and the other course now offered itself to him.
"You don't want to know what I'm after," he said, with a faint laugh.
"It's only for a bit of fun."
"Not it. People don't break in at windows for fun. You give me
something, or I'll go and tell."
Sam's heart leaped with satisfaction at this. Money, then, would buy
the young scoundrel off, and he hastily took out a coin, and held it out
so as to silence his enemy; but at the same time he felt that there was
nothing to be done now but get back to town with his mission
unfulfilled.
To his great delight the coin was snatched and pocketed, but he did not
feel so well satisfied the next moment.
"That's on'y a shillin'. Give's another."
A second was held out and taken.
"Now I wants another," said Pete, and upon this being given, he demanded
a fourth, and then a fifth.