"Bravo, Spartan!" cried Uncle Bob, as he stood looking on, when, after
walking some distance, Uncle Dick insisted upon my taking off my jacket
in a lane and having the place bathed.
"Oh, it's nothing," I said, "only it was tiresome for it to bleed."
"Nothing like being prepared for emergencies," said Uncle Jack, taking
out his pocket-book, and from one of the pockets a piece of
sticking-plaster and a pair of scissors. "I'm always cutting or
pinching my fingers. Wonder whether we could have stuck Cob's head on
again if it had been cut off?"
I opined not as I submitted to the rough surgery that went on, and then
refusing absolutely to be treated as a sick person, and go back, I
tramped on by them, mile after mile, to see something of the fine open
country out to the west of the town before we settled down to work.
We were astonished, for as we got away from the smoky pit in which
Arrowfield lay, we found, in following the bank of the rivulet that
supplied our works, that the country was lovely and romantic too. Hill,
dale, and ravine were all about us, rippling stream, hanging wood, grove
and garden, with a thousand pretty views in every direction, as we
climbed on to the higher ground, till at last cultivation seemed to have
been left behind, and we were where the hills towered up with ragged
stony tops, and their slopes all purple heather, heath, and moss.
"Look, look!" I cried, as I saw a covey of birds skim by; "partridges!"
"No," said Uncle Bob, watching where they dropped; "not partridges, my
lad--grouse."
"What, here!" I said; "and so near the town."
"Near! Why we are seven or eight miles away."
"But I thought grouse were Scotch birds."
"They are birds of the moors," said Uncle Bob; "and here you have them
stretching for miles all over the hills. This is about as wild a bit of
country as you could see. Why, the country people here call those hills
mountains."
"But are they mountains?" I said; "they don't look very high."
"Higher than you think, my lad, with precipice and ravine. Why, look--
you can see the top of that one is among the clouds."
"I should have thought it was a mist resting upon it."
"Well, what is the difference?" said Uncle Bob, smiling.
Just then we reached a spot where a stream crossed the road, and the
sight of the rippling water, clear as crystal, took our attention from
the hills and vales that spread around. My first idea was to run down
to the edge of the stream, which was so dotted with great stones that I
was soon quite in the middle, looking after the shadowy shapes that I
had seen dart away.
My uncles followed me, and we forgot all about the work and troubles
with the rough grinders, as we searched for the trout and crept up to
where we could see some good-sized, broad-tailed fellow sunning himself
till he caught sight of the intruders, and darted away like a flash of
light.
But Uncle Dick put a stop to our idling there, leading us back to the
road and insisting upon our continuing along it for another mile.
"I want to show you our engine," he said.
"Our engine out here!" I cried. "It's some trick."
"You wait and see," he replied.
We went on through the beautiful breezy country for some distance
farther, till on one side we were looking down into a valley and on the
other side into a lake, and I soon found that the lake had been formed
just as we schoolboys used to make a dam across a ditch or stream when
we were going to bale it out and get the fish.
"Why," I cried, as we walked out on to the great embankment, "this has
all been made."
"To be sure," said Uncle Dick. "Just the same as our little dam is at
the works. That was formed by building a strong stone wall across a
hollow streamlet; this was made by raising this great embankment right
across the valley here and stopping the stream that ran through it.
That's the way some of the lakes have been made in Switzerland."
"What, by men?"
"No, by nature. A great landslip takes place from the mountains, rushes
down, and fills up a valley, and the water is stopped from running
away."
We walked right out along what seemed like a vast railway embankment, on
one side sloping right away down into the valley, where the remains of
the stream that had been cut off trickled on towards Arrowfield. On the
other side the slope went down into the lake of water, which stretched
away toward the moorlands for quite a mile.
"This needs to be tremendously strong," said Uncle Jack thoughtfully, as
we walked on till we were right in the middle and first stood looking
down the valley, winding in and out, with its scattered houses, farms,
and mills, and then turned to look upward towards the moorland and along
the dammed-up lake.
"Why, this embankment must be a quarter of a mile long," said Uncle Jack
thoughtfully.
"What a pond for fishing!" I cried, as I imagined it to be peopled by
large jack and shoals of smaller fish. "How deep is it, I wonder?"
Did you ever know a boy yet who did not want to know how deep a piece of
water was, when he saw it?
"Deep!" said Uncle Dick; "that's easily seen. Deep as it is from here
to the bottom of the valley on the other side: eighty or ninety feet. I
should say this embankment is over a hundred in perpendicular height."
"Look here," said Uncle Jack suddenly; "if I know anything about
engineering, this great dam is not safe."
"Not safe!" I said nervously. "Let's get off it at once."
"I daresay it will hold to-day," said Uncle Dick dryly, "but you can run
off if you like, Cob."
"Are you coming?"
"Not just at present," he said, smiling grimly.
I put my hands in my pockets and stood looking at the great embankment,
which formed a level road or path of about twelve feet wide where we
stood, and then sloped down, as I have said, like a railway embankment
far down into the valley on our left, and to the water on our right.
"I don't care," said Uncle Jack, knitting his brows as he scanned the
place well, "I say it is not safe. Here is about a quarter of a mile of
earthen wall that has no natural strength for holding together like a
wall of bonded stone or brick."
"But look at its weight," said Uncle Bob.
"Yes, that is its only strength--its weight; but look at the weight of
the water, about a mile of water seventy or eighty feet deep just here.
Perhaps only sixty. The pressure of this water against it must be
tremendous."
"Of course," said Uncle Dick thoughtfully; "but you forget the shape of
the wall, Jack. It is like an elongated pyramid: broad at the base and
coming up nearly to a point."
"No," said Uncle Jack, "I've not forgotten all that. Of course it is
all the stronger for it, the wider the base is made. But I'm not
satisfied, and if I had made this dam I should have made this wall twice
as thick or three times as thick; and I don't know that I should have
felt satisfied with its stability then."
"Well done, old conscientious!" cried Uncle Bob, laughing. "Let's get
on."
"Stop a moment," I cried. "Uncle Dick said he would show us our
engine."
"Well, there it is," said Uncle Dick, pointing to the dammed-up lake.
"Isn't it powerful enough for you. This reservoir was made by a water
company to supply all our little dams, and keep all our mills going. It
gathers the water off the moorlands, saves it up, and lets us have it in
a regular supply. What would be the consequences of a burst, Jack?" he
said, turning to his brother.
"Don't talk about it man," said Uncle Jack frowning. "Why, this body of
water broken loose would sweep down that valley and scour everything
away with it--houses, mills, rocks, all would go like corks."
"Why, it would carry away our works, then," I cried. "The place is
right down by the water side."
"I hope not," said Uncle Jack. "No I should say the force would be
exhausted before it got so far as that, eight or nine miles away."
"Well, it does look dangerous," said Uncle Bob. "The weight must be
tremendous. How would it go if it did burst?"
"I say, uncle, I'm only a coward, please. Hadn't we better go off
here?"
They all laughed, and we went on across the dam.
"How would it go!" said Uncle Jack thoughtfully. "It is impossible to
say. Probably the water would eat a little hole through the top
somewhere and that would rapidly grow bigger, the water pouring through
in a stream, and cutting its way down till the solidity of the wall
being destroyed by the continuity being broken great masses would
crumble away all at once, and the pent-up waters would rush through."
"And if they came down and washed away our works just as we were making
our fortunes, you would say I was to blame for taking such a dangerous
place."
"There, come along," cried Uncle Bob, "don't let's meet troubles
half-way. I want a ramble over those hills. There, Cob, now we're
safe," he said, as we left the great dam behind. "Now, then, who's for
some lunch, eh?"
This last question was suggested by the sight of a snug little village
inn, where we had a hearty meal and a rest, and then tramped off to meet
with an unexpected adventure among the hills.
As soon as one gets into a hilly country the feeling that comes over one
is that he ought to get up higher, and I had that sensation strongly.
But what a glorious walk it was! We left the road as soon as we could
and struck right away as the crow flies for one of several tremendous
hills that we saw in the distance. Under our feet was the purple heath
with great patches of whortleberry, that tiny shrub that bears the
little purply grey fruit. Then there was short elastic wiry grass and
orange-yellow bird's-foot trefoil. Anon we came to great patches of
furze of a dwarf kind with small prickles, and of an elegant growth, the
purple and yellow making the place look like some vast wild garden.
"We always seem to be climbing up," said Uncle Dick.
"When we are not sliding down," said Uncle Jack, laughing.
"I've been looking for a bit of level ground for a race," said Uncle
Bob. "My word! What a wild place it is!"
"But how beautiful!" I cried, as we sat down on some rough blocks of
stone, with the pure thyme-scented air blowing on our cheeks, larks
singing above our heads, and all around the hum of insects or bees
hurrying from blossom to blossom; while we saw the grasshoppers slowly
climbing up to the top of some strand of grass, take a look round, and
then set their spring legs in motion and take a good leap.
"What a difference in the hills!" said Uncle Jack, looking thoughtfully
from some that were smooth of outline to others that were all rugged and
looked as if great jagged masses of stone had been piled upon their
tops.
"Yes," said Uncle Dick. "Two formations. Mountain limestone yonder;
this we are on, with all these rough pieces on the surface and sticking
out everywhere, is millstone-grit."
"Which is millstone-grit?" I cried.
"This," he said, taking out a little hammer and chipping one of the
stones by us to show me that it was a sandstone full of hard fragments
of silica. "You might open a quarry anywhere here and cut millstones,
but of course some of the stone is better for the purpose than others."
"Yes," said Uncle Jack thoughtfully. "Arrowfield is famously situated
for its purpose--plenty of coal for forging, plenty of water to work
mills, plenty of quarries to get millstones for grinding."
"Come along," cried Uncle Bob, starting up; and before we had gone far
the grouse flew, skimming away before us, and soon after we came to a
lovely mountain stream that sparkled and danced as it dashed down in
hundreds of little cataracts and falls.
Leaving this, though the sight of the little trout darting about was
temptation enough to make me stay, we tramped on over the rugged ground,
in and out among stones or piled-up rocks, now skirting or leaping boggy
places dotted with cotton-rush, where the bog-roots were here green and
soft, there of a delicate pinky white, where the water had been dried
away.
To a London boy, accustomed to country runs among inclosed fields and
hedges, or at times into a park or upon a common, this vast stretch of
hilly, wild uncultivated land was glorious, and I was ready to see any
wonder without surprise.
It seemed to me, as we tramped on examining the bits of stone, the herbs
and flowers, that at any moment we might come upon the lair of some wild
beast; and so we did over and over again, but it was not the den of wolf
or bear, but of a rabbit burrowed into the sandy side of some great
bank. Farther on we started a hare, which went off in its curious
hopping fashion to be out of sight in a few moments.
Almost directly after, as we were clambering over a steep slope, Uncle
Bob stopped short, and stood there sniffing.
"What is it?" I cried.
"Fox," he said, looking round.
"Nonsense!" cried Uncle Dick.
"You wouldn't find, eh? What a nasty, dank, sour odour!" cried Uncle
Jack, in his quiet, thoughtful way.
"A fox has gone by here during the last few minutes, I'm sure," cried
Uncle Bob, looking round searchingly. "I'll be bound to say he is up
among those tufts of ling and has just taken refuge there. Spread out
and hunt."
The tufts he pointed to were right on a ridge of the hill we were
climbing, and separating we hurried up there just in time to see a
little reddish animal, with long, drooping, bushy tail, run in amongst
the heath fifty yards down the slope away to our left.
"That's the consequence of having a good nose," said Uncle Bob
triumphantly; and now, as we were on a high eminence, we took a good
look round so as to make our plans.
"Hadn't we better turn back now?" said Uncle Jack. "We shall have
several hours' walk before we get to Arrowfield, and shall have done as
much as Cob can manage."
"Oh, I'm not a bit tired!" I cried.
"Well," said Uncle Dick, "I think we had better go forward. I'm not
very learned over the topography of the district, but if I'm not much
mistaken that round hill or mountain before us is Dome Tor."
"Well?" said Uncle Jack.
"Well, I propose that we make straight for it, go over it, and then ask
our way to the nearest town or village where there is a railway-station,
and ride back."
"Capital!" I cried.
"Whom will you ask to direct us?" said Uncle Jack dryly.
"Ah! To be sure," said Uncle Bob. "I've seen nothing but a sheep or
two for hours, and they look so horribly stupid I don't think it is of
any use to ask them."
"Oh! We must meet some one if we keep on," said Uncle Dick. "What do
you say? Seems a pity not to climb that hill now we are so near."
"Yes, as we are out for a holiday," said Uncle Bob. "After to-day we
must put our necks in the collar and work. I vote for Dick."
"So do I," said Uncle Jack.
"Come along then, boys," cried Uncle Dick; and now we set ourselves
steadily to get over the ground, taking as straight a line as we could,
but having to deviate a good deal on account of streams and bogs and
rough patches of stone. But it was a glorious walk, during which there
was always something to examine; and at last we felt that we were
steadily going up the great rounded mass known as Dome Tor.
We had not been plodding far before I found that it was entirely
different to the hills we had climbed that day, for, in place of great
masses of rugged, weatherworn rock, the stone we found here and there
was slaty and splintery, the narrow tracks up which we walked being full
of slippery fragments, making it tiresome travelling.
These tracks were evidently made by the sheep, of which we saw a few
here and there, but no shepherd, no houses, nothing to break the utter
solitude of the scene, and as we paused for a rest about half-way up
Uncle Dick looked round at the glorious prospect, bathed in the warm
glow of the setting sun.
"Ah!" he said, "this is beautiful nature. Over yonder, at Arrowfield,
we shall have nature to deal with that is not beautiful. But come,
boys, I want a big meat tea, and we've miles to go yet before we can get
it."
We all jumped up and tramped on, with a curious sensation coming into my
legs, as if the joints wanted oiling. But I said nothing, only trudged
away, on and on, till at last we reached the rounded top, hot, out of
breath, and glad to inhale the fresh breeze that was blowing.
The view was splendid, but the sun had set, and there were clouds
beginning to gather, while, on looking round, though we could see a
house here and a house there in the distance, it did not seem very clear
to either of us which way we were to go.
"We are clever ones," said Uncle Dick, "starting out on a trip like this
without a pocket guide and a map: never mind, our way must be west, and
sooner or later we shall come to a road, and then to a village."
"But we shall never be able to reach a railway-station to-night," said
Uncle Bob.
"Not unless we try," said Uncle Jack in his dry way.
"Then let's try," said Uncle Dick, "and--well, that is strange."
As we reached the top the wind had been blowing sharply in our faces,
but this had ceased while we had been lying about admiring the prospect,
and in place a few soft moist puffs had come from quite another quarter;
and as we looked there seemed to be a cloud of white smoke starting up
out of a valley below us. As we watched it we suddenly became aware of
another rolling along the short rough turf and over the shaley paths.
Then a patch seemed to form here, another there, and these patches
appeared to be stretching out their hands to each other all round the
mountain till they formed a grey bank of mist, over the top of which we
could see the distant country.
"We must be moving," said Uncle Dick, "or we shall be lost in the fog.
North-west must be our way, but let's push down here where the slope's
easy, and get beyond the mist, and then we can see what we had better
do."
He led the way, and before we could realise it the dense white steamy
fog was all around us, and we could hardly see each other.
"All right!" said Uncle Dick; "keep together."
"Can you see where you are going, Dick?" said Uncle Jack.
"No, I'm as if I was blindfolded with a white crape handkerchief."
"No precipices here, are there?" I cried nervously, for it seemed so
strange to be walking through this dense mist.
"No, I hope not," cried Uncle Dick out of the mist ahead. "You keep
talking, and follow me, I'll answer you, or else we shall be separated,
and that won't do now. All right!"
"All right!" we chorused back.
"All right!" cried Uncle Dick; "nice easy slope here, but slippery."
"All right!" we chorused.
"All ri--Take--"
We stopped short in horror wondering what had happened, for Uncle Dick's
words seemed cut in two, there was a rustling scrambling sound, and then
all was white fog and silence, broken only by our panting breath.
"Dick! Where are you?" cried Uncle Jack taking a step forward.
"Mind!" cried Uncle Bob, catching him by the arm.
It was well he did, for that was the rustling scrambling noise again
falling on my ears, with a panting struggle, and two voices in the dense
fog seeming to utter ejaculations of horror and dread.