"I say, Oliver, the cow is alive. I heard her low, I'm certain."
"I am afraid it was only George," said Mildred. "He was lowing like the
cow, a minute ago."
"That might be because he heard the real cow," cried Oliver, with new
hope. "I had rather save the cow than anything. I will see if I cannot
get into one of the upper rooms that looks towards the yard. We might
have a bridge-rope from more windows than one. Where is Roger? What is
he fit for? Is he awake?"
"Awake! Yes, indeed," whispered Ailwin, coming close up to the
children. "There is more mischief about that boy than you think for.
He is now on the stairs, with more mice, and rats, and spiders, and
creeping things about him than I ever saw before in all my days. We are
like to be devoured as we stand on our feet; to say nothing of what is
to become of us if we lie down."
Mildred looked at her brother in great terror.
"We must get rid of them, if they really do us hurt," said Oliver,
decidedly, though with an anxious look. "We must drown them, if they
are mischievous. We can do that, you know--at least with the larger
things. They cannot get away from us."
"Drown away!" said Ailwin, mysteriously. "Drown away! The more you
drown the more will come up. Why, did you never hear of the plagues of
Egypt?"
"Yes, to be sure. What then?"
"I take this to be a plague of Egypt that that boy has brought upon us.
It is his doing; and you will see that, if you will just look down from
where I stand, and watch him making friends with them all."
Mildred's eyes were on her brother's face as he stood where Ailwin
desired him, watching Roger. After looking very thoughtful for some
moments, he turned and exclaimed,--
"There is not one word of sense in it all, Mildred. There is a
wonderful number of live things there, to be sure; and here, too, all
over the roof--if you look. But Roger is not making friends with them.
He is teasing them--hurting all he can get hold of. I think the
creatures have come up here because the water has driven them out of
their holes; and that there would have been quite as many if Roger had
been drowned in the carr. They have nothing to do with Roger, or the
plagues of Egypt, Mildred. Don't believe a word of it."
"Then I wish Ailwin would not say such things," replied Mildred.
Ailwin persisted that time would show what Roger was--to which they all
agreed. Oliver observed that meanwhile Ailwin, who was the oldest
person among them, should not try to frighten a little girl, who was the
youngest of all, except George. Ailwin said she should keep her own
thoughts; though, to be sure, she need not always say what they were to
everybody.
"About this cow," thought Oliver, aloud. "We must plan some way to feed
her."
"Take care!" exclaimed Mildred, as he began to descend the stairs. But
the words were scarcely out of her mouth when her brother called to her
that the water had sunk. She ran to see, and saw, with her own eyes,
that the water did not quite come up to the wet mark it had left on the
wall of the stairs. Ailwin thought but little of it--it was such a
trifle; and Oliver allowed that it might be a mere accident, arising
from the flood having found some new vent about the house; but still,
the water had sunk; and that was a sight full of hope.
"Have you heard the cow low, Roger?" asked Oliver.
"Yes, to be sure. She may well low; for she must be hungry enough."
"And wet and cold enough, too, poor thing! I am going to see whether, I
can find out exactly where she is, and whether we cannot do something
for her."
Ailwin called down-stairs to Oliver, to say that there was a washtub
floating about in the room they had slept in. If he could find it, he
might row himself about in that, in the chambers, instead of always
wading in the water, catching his death of cold.
Oliver took the hint, and presently appeared in the tub, rowing himself
with a slip of the wood he had brought over from the Red-hill. Roger
stared at him as he rowed himself out of one chamber, and opened the
door of another, entering it in fine style. Roger presently followed to
see what was doing, and perhaps to try how he liked a voyage in a tub in
a large chamber.
"I see her," cried Oliver, from the window. "I see poor cow's head, and
the ridge of her back above water."
Roger came splashing to the window to look, and jumped into the tub,
making it sink a good deal; but it held both the boys very well. Roger
thought the cow very stupid that she did not get upon the great dunghill
behind her, which would keep her whole body out of the water. Oliver
thought that, as the dunghill was behind her, she could not see it. He
wished he could go, and put her in mind of it. He thought he would try
to cross in the tub, if he could so connect it with the window as that
it might be drawn back, in case of his being unable to pass the little
current that there was between the house and the ruins of the
yard-buildings--of which little remained.
"I'll go, too," said Roger.
"Either you will go, or I," said Oliver. "One must stay to manage the
rope, in case of the tub upsetting. You had better let me go, Roger,
because poor cow knows me."
Roger, however, chose to go. Oliver asked him whether he could milk a
cow; because some milk must be got for George, if possible. He said,
very gravely, that his poor little brother would die, he thought, if
they could not get milk for him.
Roger laughed at the doubt whether he could milk cows. He did it every
day of his life, when fishing and fowling, with his uncle, in the carr.
Oliver now guessed how it was that the milk of their good cow had
sometimes unaccountably run short. Ailwin had observed that this never
happened but when the Redfurns were in the neighbourhood; and she had
always insisted upon it that they had bewitched the cow. Oliver knew
that she would say so now. He said so much, and said it so seriously,
about the necessity of milk for little George, that he thought not even
a Redfurn could have the heart to drink up all the milk. He gave Roger
a brown pitcher for the milk, and helped, very cleverly, to fasten the
cord to the tub. They passed the cord through the back of a heavy
old-fashioned chair that stood in the room, lest any sudden pull should
throw Oliver out of the window; he then established himself on the
window-sill, above the water, to manage his line, and watch what Roger
would do.
Roger pulled very skilfully;--much more so, from his strength and from
practice, than Oliver could have done. He avoided logs of wood, trees,
and other heavy things that floated past; and this was nearly all he did
till the line had quite run out, so that he could not be carried any
further down. Then he began diligently working his way up towards the
cow. He had got half-way to his object, when he paused a moment, and
then changed his course--to Oliver's surprise; for the thing which
appeared to have attracted his attention was a small copper boiler.
Plenty of such things swept past before, and nobody had thought of
wanting them. It was plain, however, that Roger had a fancy for this
particular copper boiler; for he carefully waylaid it, and arrested it
with his paddle. Oliver then saw that some live animal leaped from the
boiler into the tub. He saw Roger seize the boiler, and take it into
the tub; catch up the animal, whatever it might be, and nurse it in his
arms; and then take something out of his pocket, and stoop down. Oliver
was pretty sure he was killing something with his knife.
Whatever Roger was doing he had soon done. By this time he had again
been carried down as far as the line would allow; and the additional
weight he had now on board his tub made it harder work for him to paddle
up again. He did it, however, and brought his odd little boat into
still water, between the dunghill and the cow. After looking about him
for a while, he threw out the boiler and the pitcher upon the dunghill,
seized a pitchfork which was stuck upright in it, and, his craft being
thus lightened, made for the ruins of the cart shed and stable.
Of these buildings there remained only wrecks of the walls, and a few
beams and rafters standing up in the air, or lying across each other,
without any thatch to cover them. Something must be left inside,
however; for Roger was busy with his pitchfork. This something must be
valuable, too; for Roger, after carefully feeling the depth, jumped out
of the tub, and went on filling it, while he stood in the water. Oliver
thought this very daring, till, glancing at the cow, he was sure he saw
more of her neck and back; and examining the wall of the house, he
perceived that the flood had sunk some inches since Roger began to
cross.
When the tub was heaped up with what looked like wet straw, Roger pushed
it before him towards the cow, carefully feeling his way, but never
sinking so much as to have the water above his shoulders.
"Capital! Now that is clever!" said Oliver, aloud, as he sat at the
window, and saw what Roger was about. "He is going to lift her up out
of the water. How she struggles to help herself! She knows there is
somebody caring for her; and she will do what she can for herself."
This was true. Roger thrust the straw he had brought under the cow,
with his pitchfork. He had to bring three loads before she could raise
her whole body; but then she stood, poor thing! With only her trembling
legs in the water. Roger turned her head so that she saw the dunghill
just behind her, and with some encouragement, made one more vigorous
scramble to reach it. She succeeded; and Roger whipped up the pitcher,
and was certainly trying to milk her. She could not, however, be
prevented from lying down. Oliver was more angry than he had almost
ever been in his life, when he saw Roger kick her repeatedly, in
different parts of her body, pull her by the tail, and haul up her head
with a rope he had found in the stable. The poor cow never attempted to
rise; and it was clear that she wanted comfort, and not ill-usage.
Oliver determined that, when Roger came back, he would not speak a word
to him.
Roger set about returning presently, when he found that nothing could be
got from the cow. He took his boiler on board, and pulled himself in by
the line, without troubling himself to paddle.
When he came in at the window, he threw down the pitcher, swearing at
himself for the trouble he had taken about a good-for-nothing beast that
had been standing starving in the water till she had not a drop of milk
to give. He looked at Oliver, as if rather surprised that he did not
speak; but Oliver took no notice of him.
It was a hare that Roger had in his boiler,--a hare that had, no doubt,
leaped into the boiler when pressed by a still more urgent danger than
sailing down the stream in such a boat. Roger had cut her throat with
his pocket-knife; and there she lay in her own blood.
"Don't you touch that," said Roger, as he landed his booty upon the
window-sill. "If you lay a finger on that, it will be the worse for
you. They are mine--both puss and the boiler."
Still Oliver did not speak. He wondered what Roger meant to do with
these things, if nobody else was to touch them.
Roger soon made it clear what his intentions were. He whistled to his
dog, which scampered down-stairs to him from the top of the house; put
dog, puss, and boiler into the clothes' basket, and pulled himself over
with them to the Red-hill, taking care to carry the tinder-box with him.
There he made a fire, skinned and cooked his hare, and, with his dog,
made a feast of it, under a tree.
Nobody grudged him his feast; though the children were sorry to find
that any one could be so selfish. Ailwin was glad to be rid of him, on
any terms; and, as soon as Oliver was sure that he was occupied for some
time to come, so that he would not be returning to make mischief, he
resolved to go over to the cow, and give her something better than
kicks;--food, if, as he thought, he could procure some. Saying nothing
to any one, he tied the tub-line to a bed-post, as being more
trustworthy still than the heavy chair, and carried with him the great
knife that the meat had been cut with the evening before. He made for
the stable first, and joined the rope he knew to be there to his line,
so as to make it twice the length it was before. He could now reach the
field behind the stable, where the corn, just turning from green to
yellow, had been standing high at this hour yesterday. He had to paddle
very carefully here, lest his tub should be knocked to pieces against
the stone wall. But the wall, though not altogether thrown down, had so
many breaches made in it, that he found himself in the field, without
exactly knowing whether he had come through the gate-posts or through
the wall. He lost no time in digging with his paddle; and, as he had
hoped, he turned up ears of corn from under the water, which he could
catch hold of, a handful at a time, and cut off with his knife. It was
very tiresome, slow work; and sometimes he was near losing his paddle,
and sometimes his knife. He persevered, however: now resting for a
minute or two, and then eating a few of the ears, and thinking that only
very hungry people could swallow them, soaked as they were with bad
water. He ate more than he would have done, remembering that the more
he took now, the less he should want of the portion he meant to carry to
the house, when he should have fed the cow. He hoped they should obtain
some better food; but, if no flour was to be had, and no other vegetable
than this, it would be better than none.
When he reached the cow, she devoured the heads of corn ravenously. She
could not have appeared better satisfied with the sweetest spring grass.
It was a pleasure to see her eyes as she lay, receiving her food from
Oliver's hand. He emptied out all he had brought beside her, and patted
her, saying he hoped she would give George some milk in the afternoon,
in return for what had been done for her now.
Oliver felt so tired and weak when he got home with his tub half full of
soaked corn ears, that he felt as if he could not do anything more. He
was very near crying when he found that there was not a morsel to eat;
that the very water was too bad to drink; and that there was no fire,
from Roger having carried off the tinder-box. But George was crying
with hunger; and that made Oliver ashamed to do the same, and put him
upon thinking what was to be done next.
Ailwin was the only person who, being as strong as Roger could have got
anything from him by force; and there was no use in asking Ailwin to
cross the bridge-rope, or to do anything which would bring her nearer to
the boy she feared so much. Besides that, Roger had carried over the
clothes' basket without leaving any line to pull it back by. Oliver
felt that he (if he were only a little less hungry and tired) could make
the trip in a sack, or a tub, or even a kettle; but a tall woman like
Ailwin could cross in nothing smaller than the missing clothes' basket.
It was clear that Oliver alone could go; and that he must go for the
tinder-box before any comfort was to be had.
He made up his mind to this, therefore; and having, with Ailwin's help,
slung the useful tub upon the bridge-rope, so that he might start the
first moment that Roger should be out of sight or asleep, he rested
himself in the window, watching what passed on the Red-hill. He
observed that Roger seemed quite secure that no one could follow him, as
he had carried off the basket. There he lay, near the fire, eating the
meat he had broiled, and playing with his dog. It seemed to the hungry
watchers as if he meant to lie there all day. After awhile, however, he
rose, and sauntered towards the trees, among which he disappeared, as if
going to the other side of the hill, to play, or to set his dog upon
game.
Oliver was off, sliding along the bridge-rope in his tub. He did not
forget to carry the line with which to bring back the basket. It seemed
to him that Roger intended to live by himself on the Red-hill; and to
this none of the party had any objection. He had swum over to the house
once, when the stream was higher and more rapid than now; and he could
come again, if he found himself really in want of anything; so that
nobody need be anxious for him. Meantime, no one at the house desired
his company. Oliver therefore took with him a blanket and a rug, and a
knife and fork for his accommodation.
He alighted under the beech without difficulty, and laid down the
articles he brought under the tree, where Roger would be sure to see
them. He took the flint and the tinder from the tinder-box, and
pocketed them, leaving the steel and the box for Roger's use, as there
were knives at home, and Roger might perhaps find a flint on the hill.
There were plenty in the quarry. Oliver knew he must be quick; but he
could not help looking round for something to eat,--some one of the many
animals and birds that he knew to be on the hill, and heard moving about
him on every side. But he had no means of catching any. The bones of
the hare were lying about, picked quite clean by the dog; but not a
morsel of meat was left in sight.
Something very precious, however, caught Oliver's eye;--a great heap of
pebbly gravel thrown up by the flood. The water in the Levels was
usually so bad that the settlers had to filter it; and Oliver knew that
no water was purer than that which had been filtered through gravel. He
believed now that poor George could have a good drink of water, at
least; and he scooped up with his hands enough gravel to half fill the
tub. It took a long time to heap up as much as he could carry upon the
rug; and then it was hard work to empty it into the tub; and he fancied
every moment that he heard Roger coming. It was a pity he did not know
that Roger had fallen fast asleep in the sun, on the other side of the
hill; and that his dog lay winking beside him, not thinking of stirring.
One thing more must be had;--chips for fuel. When Oliver had got enough
of these, and of sticks too, he found courage and strength to stay a few
minutes more, to make up such a fire for Roger as would probably last
till after he should have discovered the loss of the flint, and so
prevent his being without fire till he could find another flint. In
order to give him a broad hint, Oliver spread out the blanket on the
ground, and set the tinder-box in the middle of it, where it would be
sure to invite attention. He then climbed into the tub, and was glad to
be off, drawing the basket with the fire-wood after him.
"Here, Ailwin," said he, faintly, as he reached the window, "take the
flint and the tinder, and the wood in the basket, and make a fire. I
have brought you nothing to eat."
"No need!" said Ailwin, with an uncommonly merry countenance.
"You must broil the green corn, unless we can manage to get a fowl from
across the yard. But I really cannot go any more errands till I am
rested," said Oliver, dismally.
"No need, Oliver dear!" said Ailwin again.
"What do you think we have found to eat?" cried Mildred, from the
stairs.--"What is the matter with him, Ailwin? Why does not he speak?"
"He is so tired, he does not know what to do," said Ailwin. "No, don't
get down into the water again, dear. I'll carry you. Put your arm
round my neck, and I'll carry you."
And the good-natured woman carried him up to the roof, and laid him down
on a bundle of bedding there, promising to bring him breakfast
presently. She threw an apron over his head, to cover it from the hot
sun, and bade him lie still, and not think of anything till she came.
"Only one thing," said Oliver. "Take particular care of the gravel in
the tub."
"Gravel!" exclaimed Ailwin. "The fowls eat gravel; but I don't see that
we can. However, you shall have your way, Oliver."
The tired boy was asleep in a moment. He knew nothing more till he felt
vexed at somebody's trying to wake him. It was Mildred. He heard her
say,--
"How very sound asleep he is! I can't make him stir. Here, Oliver,--
just eat this, and then you can go to sleep again directly."
He tried to rouse himself, and sat up; but his eyes were so dim, and the
light so dazzling, that he could not see, at first, what Mildred had in
her hands. It was one of her mother's best china plates,--one of the
set that was kept in a closet up-stairs; and upon it was a nice brown
toasted fish, steaming hot.
"Is that for me?" asked Oliver, rubbing his eyes.
"Yes, indeed, for who but you?" said Ailwin, whose smiling face popped
up from the stairs. "Who deserves it, if you do not, I should like to
know? It is not so good as I could have wished, though, Oliver. I
could not broil it, for want of butter and everything; and we have no
salt, you know. But, come! Eat it, such as it is. Come, begin!"
"But have you all got some too?" asked the hungry boy, as he eyed the
fish.
"Oh, yes,--George and all," said Mildred. "We ate ours first, because
you were so sound asleep, we did not like to wake you."
"How long have I been asleep?" asked Oliver, beginning heartily upon his
fish. "How could you get this nice fish? How busy you must have been
all this time that I have been asleep!"
"All this time!" exclaimed Mildred. "Why, you have been asleep only
half an hour; hardly so much. We have only just lighted the fire, and
cooked the fish, and fed Geordie, and put him to sleep, and got our own
breakfast;--and we were not long about that,--we were so very hungry!
That is all we have done since you went to sleep."
"It seems a great deal for half an hour," said Oliver. "How good this
fish is! Where did you get it?"
"I found it on the stairs. Ah! I thought you would not believe it; but
we shall find more, I dare say, as the water sinks; and then you will
believe what you see."
"On the stairs! How did it get there?"
"The same way that the water got there, I suppose, and the poor little
drowned pig that lay close by the same place. There was a whole heap of
fish washed up at the turn of the stairs; enough for us all to-day.
Ailwin said we must eat them first, because the pig will keep. Such a
nice little clean sucking-pig!"
"That puts me in mind of the poor sow," said Oliver. "I forgot her when
we were busy about the cow. I am afraid she is drowned or starved
before this; but we must see about it."
"Not now," said Mildred. "Do you go to sleep again now. There is not
such a hurry as there was, the waters are going down so fast."
"Are they, indeed?--Oh, I do not want to sleep any more. I am quite
wide awake now. Are you sure the flood is going down?"
"Only look! Look at that steep red bank on the Red-hill, where it was
all a green slope yesterday, and covered with water this morning. Look
at the little speck of a hillock, where neighbour Gool's house was. We
could not see that this morning, I am sure. And if you will come down,
you will find that there is scarcely any water in the upper rooms now.
Geordie might play at paddling there, as he is so fond of doing in his
tub. Ailwin thinks we might sleep there to-night, if we could only get
everything dried."
"We might get many things dried before night, in such a sun as this.
How very hot it is!"
Oliver ran down, and convinced himself that the flood was abating fast.
It must have swelled up higher within the house than outside; for it had
sunk three feet in the upper rooms, and two on the outer walls of the
house. Now that the worst of the danger seemed to be past, the children
worked with fresh spirit, making all possible use of the sunshine for
drying their bedding and clothes, in hopes of sleeping in a chamber this
night, instead of on the house-top, which they had feared would be
necessary. Nothing could have made them believe, if they had been told
at sunrise, how cheerfully they would sit down, in the afternoon, to
rest and talk, and hope that they might, after all, meet their father
and mother again soon, alive and well.