Somehow or another I could not get to that trap all that day, and night
came, and still I could not get to it.
I tried, but unless I had wanted to draw people's attention to the fact
that I had something there of great interest, I could not go.
Even at leaving time it was as bad, and I found myself in the position
that I must either tell one of my uncles what I had done, or leave the
trap to take its chance.
I chose the latter plan, and calling myself weak coward, went home,
arguing to myself that no one would go in the spot where I had placed
the trap, but some miscreant, and that it would serve him right.
To my utter astonishment, directly after tea Uncle Dick turned to me.
"Cob," he said; "we have a special letter to send to Canonbury to your
father, and a more particular one to bring back in answer, so we have
decided that you shall take it up. You can have three or four days'
holiday, and it will be a pleasant change. Your mother and father will
be delighted to see you, and, of course, you will be glad to see them."
"But when should I have to go?" I said.
"To-night by the last train. Quarter to eleven--You'll get to London
about three in the morning. They expect one of us, so you will find
them up."
"But--"
"Don't you want to go?" said Uncle Jack severely.
"Yes," I said; "but--"
"But me no buts, as the man said in the old play. There, get ready,
boy, and come back to us as soon as you can. Don't make the worst of
our troubles here, Cob."
"No, no," said Uncle Dick, "because we are getting on famously as soon
as we can manage the men."
"And that we are going to do," said Uncle Bob. "I say I wish I were
coming with you."
"Do, then," I cried.
"Get out, you young tempter! No," said Uncle Bob. "Go and take your
pleasure, and have pity upon the three poor fellows who are toiling
here."
I was obliged to go, of course, but I must tell them about the trap
first.
Tell _them_! No, I could not tell Uncle Dick or Uncle Jack. I was
afraid that they would be angry with me, so I resolved to speak to Uncle
Bob before I went--to take him fully into my confidence, and ask him to
move the trap and put it safely away.
It is so easy to make plans--so hard to carry them out.
All through that evening I could not once get a chance to speak to Uncle
Bob alone; and time went so fast that we were on our way to the station,
and still I had not spoken. There was only the chance left--on the
platform.
"Don't look so solid about it, Cob," said Uncle Jack. "They'll be
delighted to see you, boy, and it will be a pleasant trip. But we want
you back."
"I should think we do," said Uncle Dick, laying his great hand on my
shoulder and giving me an affectionate grip.
"Yes, we couldn't get on without our first lieutenant, Philosopher Cob,"
said Uncle Bob.
I tried to look bright and cheerful; but that trap had not got me by the
leg--it seemed to be round my neck and to choke me from speaking.
What was I to do? I could not get a chance. I dare not go away and
leave that trap there without speaking, and already there was the
distant rumble of the coming train. In a few minutes I should be on my
way to London; and at last in despair I got close to Uncle Bob to speak,
but in vain--I was put off.
In came the train, drawing up to the side of the platform, and Uncle Bob
ran off to find a comfortable compartment for me, looking after me as
kindly as if I had been a woman.
"Oh," I thought, "if he would but have stayed!"
"Good-bye, my lad!" said Uncle Dick. "Take care of yourself, Cob, and
of the packet," whispered Uncle Jack.
I was about to slap my breast and say, "All right here!" but he caught
my hand and held it down.
"Don't," he said in a low half-angry voice. "Discretion, boy. If you
have something valuable about you, don't show people where it is."
I saw the wisdom of the rebuke and shook hands. "I'll try and be
wiser," I whispered; "trust me." He nodded, and this made me forget the
trap for the moment. But Uncle Bob grasped my hand and brought it back.
"Stand away, please," shouted the guard; but Uncle Bob held on by my
hand as the train moved.
"Take care of yourself, lad. Call a cab the moment you reach the
platform if your father is not there."
"Yes," I said, reaching over a fellow-passenger to speak. "Uncle Bob,"
I added quickly, "big trap in the corner of the yard; take it up at
once--to-night."
"Yes, yes," he said as he ran along the platform. "I'll see to it.
Good-bye!"
We were off and he was waving his hand to me, and I saw him for a few
moments, and then all was indistinct beneath the station lamps, and we
were gliding on, with the glare and smoke and glow of the busy town
lighting up the sky.
It had all come to me so suddenly that I could hardly believe I was
speeding away back to London; but once more comfortable in my mind with
the promise that Uncle Bob had made to take up the trap, I sat back in
the comfortable corner seat thinking of seeing my father and mother
again, and of what a series of adventures I should have to relate.
Then I had a look round at my fellow-passengers, of whom there were
three--a stout old gentleman and a young lady who seemed to be his
daughter, and a dark-eyed keen-looking man who was seated opposite to
me, and who held a newspaper in his hand and had a couple of books with
him.
"I'd offer to lend you one," he said, touching his books and smiling;
"but you couldn't read--I can't. Horrible lights."
Just then a heavy snore from the old gentleman made the young lady lean
over to him and touch him, waking him up with a start.
The keen-looking man opposite to me raised his eyebrows and smiled
slightly, shading his face from the other occupants with his newspaper.
Three or four times over the old gentleman dropped asleep and had to be
roused up, and my fellow-passenger smiled good-humouredly and said:
"Might as well have let him sleep."
This was in a whisper, and he made two or three remarks to me.
He seemed very much disposed to be friendly and pointed out the lights
of a distant town or two.
"Got in at Arrowfield, didn't you?" he said at last.
I replied that I did; and it was on the tip of my tongue to say, "So did
you," but I did not.
"I'm going on to London," he said. "Nasty time to get in--three in the
morning. I hate it. No one about. Night cabs and milk carts, police
and market wagons. People at the hotel always sleepy. Ah! Here we are
at Westernbow."
For the train was stopping, and when it did draw up at the platform the
old gentleman was roused up by the young lady, and they got out and left
us alone.
"Ha! Ha!" said my companion, "that's better. Give us room to stretch
our legs. Do you bet?"
"No," I said, "never."
"Good, lad! Don't; very bad habit. I do; I've lots of bad habits. But
I was going to say, I'll bet you an even half-crown that we don't have
another passenger from here to London."
"I hope we shall not," I said as I thought of a nap on the seat.
"So do I, sir--so do I," he said, nodding his head quickly. "I vote we
lie down and make the best of it--by and by. Have a cigar first?"
"Thank you; I don't smoke," I said.
"I do. Will you excuse me if I have a cigar? Not a smoking carriage--
more comfortable."
I assured him that I should not mind; and he took out a cigar, lit it,
and began to smoke.
"Better have one," he said. "Mild as mild. They won't hurt you."
I thanked him again and declined, sitting back and watching him as he
smoked on seeming to enjoy his cigar, and made a remark or two about the
beautiful night and the stars as the train dashed on.
After a time he took out a flask, slipped off the plated cup at the
bottom, and unscrewed the top, pouring out afterward some clear-looking
liquid.
"Have a drink?" he said, offering me the flask-cup; but I shook my head.
"No, thank you," I said; and somehow I began thinking of the water I had
drunk at the works, and which had made me so terribly sleepy.
I don't know how it was, but I did think about that, and it was in my
mind as he said laughingly:
"What! Not drink a little drop of mild stuff like that? Well, you are
a fellow! Why it's like milk."
He seemed to toss it off.
"Better have a drop," he said.