My father's armoury was a good deal talked about, but when regular
drilling was commenced at the Gap it excited no surprise. The
grey-beards of Ripplemouth talked it over, and said they were glad that
Captain Duncan had woke up and was ready to defend the Gap when the
French came to our part of the coast, and they said they expected great
things of him.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bob Chowne one day, as he came over; "heard the
news?"
"No," I said; "have the French come?"
"No, not yet; but the Ripplemouth people are going to ask your father to
help them make a fort on the cliff over the harbour, and they're going
to get some guns from Bristol."
"What nonsense!" I said. "Here, I'm going over to the Gap; will you
come?"
"No, I don't want to come to the old lead pump and see your father's
people make the water muddy. What are you going to do?"
"Sword drill."
"Oh! I don't care for sword drill."
"Bigley's coming too," I said; "and we're going through it all."
"It's stupid work standing all in a row swinging your arms about like
windmills, chopping nothing, and poking at the air, and pretending that
someone's trying to stab you. I wouldn't mind if it was real fighting,
but yours is all sham."
"Then we're going to do some pistol-shooting at a mark with
ball-cartridge."
"Pooh! It's all fudge!" said Bob yawning. "I wouldn't mind coming if
you were going to do something with real guns."
"Why, they're real pistols."
"Pistols! Yes--pop-guns. I mean big cannons."
"Ah, well," I said, "I'm sorry you will not come, but I must go."
"That's always the way when a fellow comes away from our old physic-shop
and takes the trouble to walk all these miles. You're always either out
or going out."
"I can't help it, Bob," I replied, feeling rather ill-used. "My father
expects me. I have to help him now. You know I like a game as well as
ever I did."
"Ah, well, it don't matter. Be off."
"I'm very sorry," I said, glancing at the old eight-day clock; "but I
must go now."
"Well, didn't I say, Be off?" cried Bob.
"Good-bye, then!"