My bedroom was a small one, with little furniture in it. A small iron
stove in the fire-place acted instead of a grate, and as I was
accustomed to read late my father allowed me to light it in cold
weather. It was blazing cheerfully when Jack left me, and the bright
gleams of ruddy light that darted through the chinks of the door and
fell on the opposite wall, threw the light of my solitary candle quite
into the shade.
I have already remarked that the night was dark and dismal. In addition
to that, it was stormy. The wind moaned drearily among the venerable
elms that surrounded our quiet country residence, and ever and anon came
in sharp, fitful gusts that caused the window-frames to rattle, and even
shook the house, at times, to its foundation. Heavy drops of rain fell
occasionally on the window-panes, and in a few minutes the storm broke
forth in full violence.
As the old house had stood many such, in years gone by, I did not give
myself much concern about the gale; but pulled down the blind, placed my
little table and books near the stove, and, drawing in my chair, sat
down to think. How long I remained in this condition I cannot tell; but
my reveries were broken by the large clock on the stairs striking
twelve.
I started up, and clinching my hands exclaimed aloud, "No! I've made up
my mind, I _won't_ run away!" Under the impulse of the feeling I threw
open the door of the stove and heaped on fresh coals, muttering to
myself; as I did so, "No, I won't run away, I won't run away; no, no,
no, I won't run a--"
I was checked suddenly by my eye falling a second time on that terrific
African savage sending from his revolver a charge down the throat of
that magnificent Bengal tiger, that would have blown the inside entirely
out of any living creature smaller than an elephant. I sat down. I
gazed at the picture. I read the account. I followed up the
adventurous savage. My head reeled with excitement. A strange terrible
heat seemed to dart like lightning through my veins, and the book began
to flicker before my eyes. I became alarmed.
"Surely some terrible fever is seizing on me!" I exclaimed, and in the
terror of the thought I started up and paced my room rapidly. But the
fire increased, and my head swam. I meditated ringing the bell and
alarming the household; but the thought of this quieted me, and
gradually I became calmer.
It was at this moment that my former resolution returned upon me with
tenfold violence. "I'll submit to this no longer," I growled between my
teeth; "I _will_ run away!"
The instant I said that, I felt as if I were imbued with a determination
that nothing could shake. Jack's reasoning never once came into my
mind. I took down the knapsack that hung on a nail ready packed for the
intended fishing expedition of the morrow. I buckled it on; put on my
thickest shoes, and, seizing a stout cudgel, issued softly from my
apartment, and tapped gently at Jack's door.
"Come in!"
I entered, and was overwhelmed with surprise at finding my friend
standing in the middle of the room accoutred for the road just like
myself. He put his finger to his lips.
"Hush! Bob. I was on the point of going to your room to say that I've
made up my mind to run away with you."
I was staggered. I did not relish this unaccountable change. If I had
persuaded him to go, it would have been all right; but to find him thus
ready and eager was unnatural. I felt as if I were accountable for this
change in his opinions and actions, and immediately, strange to say,
experienced a tendency to dissuade him.
"But, Jack, you forget what you said to me some hours ago."
"No, I don't," he answered, gloomily.
"Perhaps we'd better think over it again."
"No, we won't. Come, Bob, don't show the white feather now. Don't
waste time. It's about dawn. It's too late to reason. You have
tempted me, and I have given in."
Saying this, he seized me by the collar and pushed me before him.
And now the mysterious events which I am about to relate began. The
conduct of my friend Jack on this occasion was in itself a mystery. He
was by nature the gentlest and most inoffensive of human beings, except
when circumstances required him to act vigorously: then he was a lion--
irresistible. Since the commencement of our acquaintance, which was of
many years' standing, he had never by word or look given me the
slightest cause for anger; and yet here he was grasping me violently by
the collar and pushing me forcibly before him.
I did not get angry. My conscience smote me. I said to myself; "Ah!
this is the result of evil conduct. I have tempted Jack to act against
his judgment; he is no longer what he was."
Instead of melting under this feeling, I became hardened. I stepped
out, and so dragged my friend after me down the back stairs which led to
the lower part of the house, where the servants slept. Jack whispered,
"All right," and let go his hold.
"Now we must be cautious," I said, in a low tone, as we proceeded to
traverse the passage, on each side of which were the rooms occupied by
the servants. We took off our shoes and advanced on tip-toe. At the
far end of the passage we heard a sound like a trombone. That was the
butler; we knew of his snoring propensities, and so were not alarmed.
His door was open; so was his mouth--I could see that plainly, as I
passed, by the dim light of a candle which he always burned at night.
The butler was excessively fat. I merely mention this because it
accounts for the fact of his not awaking when we unlocked the street
door. Fat people are not easily wakened.
The lock of the door was an old-fashioned large one. It grated slightly
as Jack turned the key; then at a certain point the key lost control
over it, and it shot back with a report like a pistol-shot! My heart
flew to my mouth, and almost choked me. The butler gave a double snort
and turned in his bed as Jack and I darted round an angle of the wall
and hid in a dark corner. The butler soon gave unquestionable evidence
that he had not been thoroughly aroused, and we were about to issue from
our place of concealment, when the door of our man-servant's room
opened, and he peeped out. Edwards--that was his name--was a stout
young fellow, and we felt certain that he would not rest satisfied until
he had found out the cause of the noise.
We were right. He stepped cautiously into the passage with a poker in
his hand. My heart sank within me. Just at that moment a cat darted
across the passage with its back and tail up, and its eyes glaring.
Edwards flung the poker at it, missed the cat, and knocked over an old
tin umbrella-stand, with which the poker made a hideous clatter on the
stone floor of the passage.
"Ha! you brute! Wot? it's you as is makin' all that row, is it?"
"Oh, dear, Edwards, what's happened?" cried a shrill voice from the
other end of the passage--it was cook.
"Oh, nothin', only the cat," replied the man as he sauntered into the
butler's room. The butler seemed at that moment to have been smitten
with a fit of apoplexy--we could see him from our dark corner;--he grew
purple in the face, gasped once or twice, choked awfully, and then sat
up in bed staring like a maniac.
"Oh! Jack," I whispered in horror.
"Don't be alarmed; it's only his usual way of waking up. I've seen him
do it often."
"What noise is that? What's going on down there?" cried a deep bass
voice in the distance. It was my father. No one replied. Presently my
father's bedroom bell rang with extreme violence. Edwards rushed out of
the butler's room. The butler fell back, opened his mouth, and
pretended to be asleep--snoring moderately. This of itself would have
undeceived any one, for when the old hypocrite was really asleep he
never snored _moderately_. The cook and housemaid uttered two little
shrieks and slammed their respective doors, while the bell rang
violently a second time.
"Now for it," whispered Jack. He opened the back door softly, and we
darted out. A streak of pale light on the horizon indicated the
approach of day. We tried to close the door behind us, but we heard the
butler choke, gasp, and shout at the top of his voice, "Hi! hallo!" At
the same instant the old dinner-gong sent a peal of horrible sound
through the house, and we took to flight filled with unutterable terror.
Oh, how we did run! We had scarcely cleared the offices and got fairly
into the avenue when we heard Edwards shout as he started in pursuit.
We were both good runners, but Jack soon took the lead, and kept it by
about five yards. Our feet scarcely touched the ground. I felt as if I
had wings, so great was my terror. We reached the end of the avenue.
The gate was full five feet high. To my inexpressible amazement, Jack
went clear over it with one bound!
I have never been able to analyse my feelings and impulses on that
occasion. I am, and always was, rather a poor jumper; yet, without
hesitation, without even a doubt as to my ability to clear it, I went at
that gate like an Irish hunter at a stone wall, and leaped fairly over
it! The leap did not even check my pace for an instant. I remember, in
the whirl and confusion of the moment, that I attributed my almost
superhuman powers to terror; but the feeling that we were pursued again
absorbed all my faculties.
We dashed on at a killing pace, and, strange to say, without feeling the
slightest fatigue. Having cleared the avenue, we mounted the high
ground in the neighbourhood, passed the church, entered the village, and
went through it like a railway train; came out upon the road beyond, and
reached a wooded part of the country where several roads and by-paths
diverged from the highway. All this time Edwards kept close on our
heels. He did not gain on us, but we felt that we did not distance him.
"Down here!" cried Jack, doubling suddenly into a lane.
We passed a small bridge that crossed a mill-lake. Beyond, there was a
farm-yard. The path-way was high, and we could look down on the tops of
the stacks. One of these, a haystack, stood about ten feet from the low
wall that skirted the road. It had been half pulled down, and the hay
was loose. Without a word or warning Jack sprang completely across this
space, turned right over, and plunged head first into the hay. I
followed instantly, and disappeared. We lay for a few seconds perfectly
still, and heard Edwards pass at full speed. Then we struggled out and
watched him out of sight.
Sliding down, we regained the lane, returned to the high-road, and
continued our flight.
We saw no more of Edwards.
About eight miles from my father's house there was a small seaport town.
We made for this, and reached it just as the sun rose in all his golden
glory on the distant edge of the sleeping sea.