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Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 42. Baiting A Trap |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY TWO. BAITING A TRAP "Yes, my boy; sad, sad indeed," said Colonel Forrester. "I would have given anything to have prevented it." Father and son were walking round the ruins of the Hall, which were still too heated to allow of approach, while from the heap of _debris_ within a thin filmy smoke arose. "Do you think there is any hope, father?" said Fred, after a long pause. Colonel Forrester looked at him quickly. "I mean of Sir Godfrey and poor Scar being alive?" Colonel Forrester did not reply, but turned away with his brow full of deep furrows; and feeling as if everything like happiness was at an end, Fred turned away from the scene of desolation, and walked up toward the little camp on the hill, wondering how it would be possible to convey the terrible tidings to the two who must be suffering a very martyrdom of anxiety at the Manor. "I could not do it. I dare not," muttered Fred. "And besides, it is too soon. There may be hope." But as he said those last words to himself, he pictured the wounded father defended by his son, and then the rushing flames, and he groaned in spirit as he felt how hopeless it all seemed. "Heard all the news, Master Fred, I s'pose?" Fred started, for he had not heard the approach of Samson. "No; I have heard nothing. I have been with my father at the ruins." "I was there at 'bout six o'clock, sir. Couldn't have thought the old place would have burnt so fast." "But you said news, Samson?" cried Fred, eagerly. "Not news of them?" "No, sir; not news of them," replied Samson, sadly. "News of our stopping here for the present." "No." "Well, sir, I hear that's to be it, unless a stronger party comes and drives us away. Seems to me as we're like the little ones playing king o' the castle; and no sooner is one up a-top than another comes and pushes him down. But, Master Fred; had your breakfast, haven't you?" "Yes," said Fred, whose thoughts were at the ruins. "So have I, sir. Well, look here, sir; I want to see whether the slugs and snails have been at that there food in the wood. What do you say to going to see?" "We cannot go till night, Samson," said Fred, sadly. "Yes, we can, sir. Look here; I'll cut a couple o' long willows, and get some worms in the Hall garden, and I dare say I can find a basket. Then let's you and me go careless like to the far end of the lake, just as if we were going to try for a fish or two, and nobody will notice us then. Once we are there, we can creep up through the bushes to the wilderness, and get that bit o' food." "And see if your brother is better?" "Nay, nay; I'm not going to take all that trouble 'bout such a fellow as him, sir. 'Tis 'bout that food I'm thinking. Shall we go, sir?" "Yes, Samson, yes; and look here: don't try to deceive me like this, because it will not do." "Oh well, it never was no use to argue with you, sir, when you was a schoolboy. Now you're a young officer, you're harder still. There, I'm not going to say any more; but is it likely I should do all this 'bout an enemy, unless it was to make him a prisoner? There, I'm off to get them rods and worms." Samson went across to the Hall garden, and shortly afterwards reappeared with a pot and basket. "We can get the two rods somewhere down by the lake," he said; and one of the sentinels as he stood, firelock in hand, smiled grimly, and thought of how he would like to leave his monotonous task, and go down to the lake side to fish, after the fashion he had so loved when a boy. This man watched them right to the edge of the water, where he saw Samson select and cut two long willow rods, and strip them clean of leaf and twig before shouldering them, and marching on beside his master. "It's well to be them," grumbled the man, "for who knows whether in these days of bloodshed a lad may ever have a chance to fish again?" He shouldered his firelock, and continued his slow tramp to and fro, looking out for the enemy, but more often turning his gaze toward his fishing friends. "Bring the hooks and lines, Master Fred?" said Samson, as they went on toward the west end of the lake. "Hooks and lines? No." "Well, sir, we can't fish without lines. Didn't I tell you to get 'em while I got the worms?" "No." "Well, now, that's strange. But I did mean to, sir. What are we to do? Go back?" "No, no! Don't let's waste time." "But we can't catch no fish without a hook." "We don't want to catch any fish." "But we want people to think we do." "Yes; and if they see us with rods down by the water, they will think so." "More stoopids they, sir. I needn't carry this here ugly pot o' worms and the basket, then, no longer, sir?" "Yes, you must. Don't throw them away. We had better keep up the look of being fishermen." "Very well, sir; just as you like. But I say, Master Fred, what's the good of all this? Don't let's go." "Not go?" "I don't see why we should take the trouble to go and look after a fellow like Nat. He never was any credit to me, and he never will be. Like as not, if he gets better, he'll give me a topper." "Come along, and hold your tongue, Samson. Do you suppose I can't see through you?" "Yes, I do, sir," said Samson, with a chuckle. "Chap did try to make a hole through me just after we turned soldiers, but it's all grown up again. I say, Master Fred, though, ser'us--think Nat is alive?" "Yes, of course, poor fellow! No, don't hurry now. Some one may be watching us. Let's pretend to be picking out a good place." "Poor fellow!" grumbled Samson, as he obeyed, and began holding overhanging boughs aside and leaning over the water. "Don't suppose you'd say, 'Poor fellow!' if I was to be lying wounded there, Master Fred." "No, of course not," said Fred, angrily; "I should say I was very glad to get rid of you, and I wouldn't stir a step to bring you bread or water or anything." Samson stopped short, and burst into a roar of laughter. "What's the matter, now?" cried Fred, wonderingly. "Oh, you can tell 'em when you like, sir," cried Samson. "Haw, haw, haw! No, no, no; you won't get me to believe that. But let's get on, sir; we're 'bout out o' sight of the sentries. No; there's one looking at us over the hill. Let's sit down just yonder, and seem to begin." A glance casually taken showed the wisdom of this proceeding, and one chose a spot by a tree, the other went twenty yards further toward the wood, and they began to go through the motions of people fishing, changing their places from time to time, Samson passing right on beyond Fred, and the latter after a few minutes going on past Samson, till they were well in among the trees, and not far from the steep rocky bank where the passage came down to the lake. For the first time since the discovery, Fred went on without recalling that day when they drained the place, for he was too eager to go in search of Nat, who must be, he felt sure, lying somewhere in the wood, weak and suffering, and praying for their help. "Now," said Samson, at last, "let's carry our rods a little way in and hide 'em with the basket, ready for us when we've done. I may pitch the pot o' worms away now, sir, mayn't I?" "No, no; put them with the basket. There, in that bush--that's the place." The rods were thrust in amongst the thick undergrowth, and then Fred took a final look round, seeing nothing, and then leading the way, easily enough now by day, for the displaced twigs showed to their practised eyes where they had passed before. But even now it was no easy task to achieve before they came to the fallen oak, with its two mighty trunks, the one living, the other dead. Then they stopped--startled; for there was a loud rustling, the leaves and twigs were forced apart, and for the moment they felt that they were discovered. "Only a rabbit," said Samson, coolly, as the sound died away. "What a noise them little chaps can make, Master Fred! Go along." "No, no; stop," cried Fred. "It was only a rabbit, sir." "Yes, I know; but don't you see?" "See what, sir?" "If there have been rabbits here, it's a sure sign that Nat is not in his hiding-place." "Yes; I didn't think of that," said Samson, taking off his steel cap to give his head a scratch. "Never mind, sir; go on. He may have been back and gone out for a walk. It's just like him; being as awk'ard and contrary as can be." Fred hesitated a moment or two, and then, feeling depressed and disappointed, thinking that the poor faithful follower of the Markhams was sharing their misfortunes, and perhaps lying dead hidden among the bushes, he took a step or two further on, pressed the twigs aside, and peered into the verdant tunnel Nat had made his temporary home. "He is not here," he said sadly, as he crept in. "Nor yet been there, sir?" "No! Yes," cried Fred, changing his tone from one full of despondency to the very reverse. "He has been here, Samson. The food is all gone." "Don't shout, sir. We may be heard. But that don't prove nothing. Rabbits and rats and field mice and all sorts of things may have been and eaten it. Cake and chicken! What waste! I might as well have eaten it myself," he muttered. Then, once more aloud, "We may as well drink what's in the bottle, sir." "But it's gone, Samson," cried Fred, from the end of the tunnel. "Gone, sir? The rabbits couldn't have--" "And your jerkin is gone, too." "Hooray! Then the poor old--" Samson checked his jubilant speech before it was half ended, and continued, in a grumbling tone-- "That's just like Nat I told you how awk'ard he could be." Fred came struggling back out of the verdant tunnel, and rose to his feet. Then, looking round, he said-- "We must try and follow his track, Samson. Which way is he likely to move--" He, too, stopped short, staring wildly before him; and then he caught Samson's arm, unable to speak, so sudden was the hope which had flashed in upon his brain. "See him, sir?" whispered Samson, as he stood gazing in a startled fashion in the same direction. "Oh, Master Fred, sir," he burst out, "don't, don't say the poor lad's dead. Nat, Nat, old chap, not without one good-bye grip of the hand." "No, no, no," gasped Fred, half dragging his companion back. "Not dead, sir?" panted Samson. "No, no, no!" "And you couldn't see him, sir?" "No." "Then what do you mean by serving a fellow like that?" muttered Samson to himself. "I didn't think I could make such a fool of myself--about an enemy, too." "Samson," whispered Fred, excitedly, "can I trust you?" "No, sir. 'Tarn't likely," growled the man, morosely. "I'm sartain to go and tell tales everywhere, and blab it all out, whatever it is." "No, no; I don't believe you, lad. You always were true as steel, Samson." "Master Fred, lad, I'd die for you!" half sobbed Samson, with his face working; and he clung now to the hand extended to him. "But do, do speak, sir. Poor Nat aren't dead?" "No, no! How could I have been such an idiot!" "Such a what, sir? Here, who says so?" cried Samson, truculently. "I can't think how it was I never thought of it before." "Here, sir, 'pon my head, I don't know which hole you're coming out of. What do you mean?" "They're alive, Samson; they're alive!" "_He's_ alive, sir--_he's_ alive, you mean." "No; I mean they must be alive." "But there never was but one Nat, sir; and that was quite enough." "You don't understand me, man." "No, sir, and nobody else could, talking like that." "No, of course not. That's why I said could I trust you. Scar and Sir Godfrey and Nat must be all safe." "Do you know what you are talking about, sir, or are you a bit off your head?" "I'm as clear-headed as you are, man. Look there!" "Yes, sir, I'm a-looking, and there's a heap o' sere 'ood with a bit of a hole in it." "Yes; some one has been through there." "What, do you think he has made himself another hole?" "Yes, Samson." Fred gave a quick, excited look round, but they were alone in the patch of forest. "Yes, sir, I'm a-listening." "There's a secret passage leads from there right up to the Hall." "Secret grandmother, sir!" "There is, I tell you," cried Fred, with his voice trembling from excitement. "Scar and I found it one day, and traced it right to the edge of the lake." "Not gammoning me, are you, sir?" "No, no, Samson." "You didn't dream all this?" "No, I tell you. We found it by accident, and when we were looking for the end we found that hole where that fallen tree had broken a way into the passage. We piled up all those branches to hide the place." "Well, you stun me, Master Fred. And you think our Nat heard 'em there, and has gone to jine 'em?" "He found them, or they found him. Hist!" Fred crept close to the heap of dead wood, a portion of which, sufficient for a man to creep through, had been removed, and pressing as far in as he could, he made a trumpet of his hands and cried softly-- "Any one there?" Samson had followed close to him, and he listened to his master's voice as it seemed to go in a hollow whisper echoing along under the earth. "Well, it do stun me," he said, taking off his morion for a fresh scratch. "Is any one there?" cried Fred again, as loudly as he dared; and there was no response. "Scar! Nat! Sir Godfrey!" he cried again; and after pausing to listen each time for a reply which did not come, he turned at last to encounter Samson's dubious face. "Hope you're right, sir!" he said. "Yes, man, certain. You see? You can hear?" "Yes, sir, I can hear; and I suppose there's a sort of drain there." "Drain, man? I tell you it's a secret passage." "Maybe, sir; but that don't prove they are hiding in it." "But they must be," cried Fred, excitedly. "Scar knew of it. They were cut off by the fire. They took refuge there, and I am sure they are hiding now; and, thank Heaven, safe." "Well, sir, they're all mortal enemies, but I'm so glad to hear it that I say _Amen_ with all my heart; but is it true?" "Oh, yes, I am sure; it's true enough!" cried Fred, with his eyes full of the joy he felt. "Samson, I don't know how to contain myself--how to be thankful enough! Poor old Scar! I should never have felt happy again." Samson's iron pot-like cap was tilted off again, and he scratched his head on the other side as he looked at Fred with a quaint smile upon his countenance. "Well, sir, all this here puzzles me. It do--it do really. These here are our enemies, and we've been taught to smite 'em hip and thigh; and because we find they're living, instead of dead, here's you ready to jump out of your skin, and me feeling as if I could shake hands with old Nat. Of course I wouldn't; you see, I couldn't do it. Indeed, if he was here I should hit him, but I feel as if I should shake hands all the same." "What will be best to do, Samson?" "Do, sir? If you're right, get off as soon as we can." "And them wanting our help." "Tchah! They don't want our help. They want us to be out of their way. If they come and catch us here, sir, how do we know but what they may turn savage, and try to serve us out?" "Samson, you are talking nonsense," said Fred, angrily; and he ran to the hole again and called aloud the names of those he believed to be in hiding, his words echoing and whispering along the dark passage, till Samson made him jump by touching him on the shoulder just as he was listening vainly for a reply. "Don't do that, sir." "Why not?" "If that there passage goes right up to the Hall, the men yonder by the ruins on dooty will hear you hollering and find out all about it." Fred started away as if he had been stung. "You are right, Samson," he said; "I did not think of that." "You didn't, sir?" "No." "Then that shows you that I am not so stoopid as you tell me I am sometimes." "Oh, but I don't always mean it." "Then you shouldn't say it, sir. Well, hadn't we better get back now?" "But I want to make perfectly sure that they are hiding there, Samson, my good fellow; and how can we find out without waiting and watching?" "Oh, I can soon do that for you, sir." "How?" "Set a trap." "What?" "Set a trap, and bait it same as you would for a fox, or a polecat, or one of them big hawks we see on the moor." "I don't understand you. Pray do speak out. What trap could we set?" "Oh, I'll soon show you that, sir. Here's the bait for it." Samson opened his wallet, and drew therefrom a round flat cake, which had been cut open; and as he held it on his hand he raised the top, treating it as if it were the lid of a box, and grinned at Fred as he showed him within four slices of boiled salt pork. "There, sir," he said, as he shut the top down again, "there's a bait for a trap as would catch any hungry man." "Yes; but what are you going to do?" "I'll show you, sir. I'm just going to hang that inside yonder hole; and if my brother Nat's there he'll smell it half a mile away, and come and take it. I know him like a lesson. We'll leave it there, go away, and come back again; and if the cake's gone we know they are there." "We shall know some one is there," Fred said thoughtfully. "Yes, we shall know that Scar is there," he added with more show of animation, "for no one but us two know of the existence of that hole. He must have come out and found your brother." "Shall I bait the trap, then, sir?" said Samson. "Yes, of course." "Ah," said Samson, placing the cake in a fork of one of the dead branches right in the hole, "you often laugh at me, sir, for bringing a bit o' food with me, but now you see the good of it. There!" He drew back to look admiringly at his work. "That'll catch him, sir," he said. "Yes, they'll see that," cried Fred, eagerly. "Now let's get back to the lake, and fish for an hour." "But we aren't got no lines, sir." "Never mind; we must pretend, in case we are watched. Come along quickly." Fred spoke in a low excited whisper, just as if he had helped in the setting of a gin for some wild creature; and as he hurried Samson back toward the lake he turned once, full of exultation, and shook his follower warmly by the hand. "What's that there for?" said Samson, feigning ignorance, but with his eyes sparkling and his face bright with satisfaction. "Because I feel so happy," cried Fred. "It's a long time since I have felt so satisfied as I do now." "Ah, I gets puzzleder and puzzleder," said Samson, grimly, "more than ever I was. I never knowd why we all began fighting, and you don't make it a bit clearer, Master Fred. I believe you're a reg'lar sham, sir, pretendin' that Master Scar's your enemy, and all the time you seem as if you'd go through fire and water to help him. Why, we shall be having your father and Sir Godfrey shaking hands and dining together just as they did in the old times." "And you and Nat quarrelling good-temperedly again as to which is the best cider, that at the Manor or theirs at the Hall." "No, Master Fred; that's going a little too far, sir. Eh? What say?" "Look here; I'll show you where the proper entrance to the passage is. That hole, as I told you, was only broken through." Fred turned off a little, and made his way down to the edge of the lake by the rocky bank where the birches drooped down till their delicate leaves nearly dipped in the water; and as they hung over, after a careful look round, Fred pointed out the opening. "What! that little bit of a hole, sir?" "That's where Scarlett kicked out a stone or two. The whole of the rest of the arch is built up." "Well, sir, I s'pose it's true, as you tell me it is," said Samson, thoughtfully; "but if anybody had told me all this without showing me the place, I should have said, 'Thank ye; now see if you can tell a bigger story.'" "You know now it's true," said Fred, thoughtfully. "And look here," he continued, after he had related in full how he and Scarlett discovered the place, "let's go up to the Hall, and see if there is any sign of the opening there. Think the ruins will be cool?" "No, sir, nor yet for another week. Why, some of the men was roasting meat in the hot embers, and cooking bread there this morning." "Never mind. I had not the heart to go there when I woke. I am eager to see everything now, and I tremble for fear that the way may have been laid open. Come along." Samson followed, nothing loth, the rods and basket being forgotten, and they made their way round by the edge of the lake on the side nearest to the Hall, Fred having hard work to keep from gazing back at the patch of the old forest which concealed the passage where he felt certain now his friends--he mentally corrected himself--his enemies, must lie. A sad feeling came over the lad, though, once more, as he led the way through the hazel wood, where Sir Godfrey had had endless paths cut, every one of which was carpeted with moss; for there were the marks of hoofs, hazel stubs had been wantonly cut down, and the nearer they drew to the ruined Hall, the more frequent were the traces of destruction, while, when at last they came from the shrubbery and stood in full view of the place, the picture of desolation was so painful that Fred stood still, and his eyes felt dim. "Poor Lady Markham! poor little Lil!" he said in a low voice. "What will they say?" "Yes, and your mother, Master Fred, sir; she'll be terribly cut up too." "Well, Fred, my lad," said a grave voice, "have you, too, come to see?" Fred started round, to find that his father was leaning against one of the fine old beeches with his arms folded, gazing at the still smoking ruins. He did not wait to be answered, but sighed deeply, and walked slowly away. "Don't he know?" whispered Samson. Fred shook his head, and stood gazing after his father till his follower touched his sleeve. "Aren't you going to tell him, Master Fred?" "I was wondering whether I ought." "So was I, sir; and you oughtn't." "You think that?" "Yes, sir. If you tell him, he'll feel it's his duty to send in search of them, and make 'em prisoners." "Yes," said Fred, thoughtfully. "And that's just what we want done, of course, Master Fred; only they ought to be our prisoners, and we want to do just what we like about 'em, not be enterfered with--eh?" "Don't talk to me, please," said Fred, as he watched his father go where his horse was being held, and saw him mount and ride thoughtfully away. "Now, Samson, quick! and don't point or seem to be taking any particular notice." "I understand, sir." "Let us look as if we were walking round just out of curiosity, and do nothing to excite the attention of any sentinel who may have us under his eye." Fred led the way, and Samson followed, as he walked completely round the ruins of the old building, apparently indifferent, but taking in everything with the most intense eagerness. But, look as he would, he could see no trace of any opening in the skeleton of the fine old Hall. Every vestige of roof had gone, and in its fall parti-walls had been toppled over, and where they still stood it was in such a chaos of ruins that the eye soon grew confused. As to finding the entrance to the passage, that was impossible. It was easy enough to trace the entrance hall, but the carven beams of the roof had entirely gone, and there was not the slightest trace visible of the grand staircase or the corridor which ran to right and left. Smouldering ashes, calcined stone, and here and there the projecting charred stump of some beam; but no sign of a passage running between walls, and at last Samson, who had edged up closely, whispered-- "Are you sure you are right, sir? I can't see aught." "I am certain," was the reply. "But let us go now. No one is likely to find the entrance here." "And no one is likely to get out of it here," said Samson to himself, as they walked slowly away, to be hailed directly after by one of the officers. "I thought you two had gone fishing?" "Yes, sir," said Samson; "and we've left our rods by the lake. We're going down again by-and-by to see if there is a bite." The officer nodded, laughed at them, and went on. "You let your tongue run too freely," said Fred, angrily. "Well, sir, you wouldn't speak; and it's quite true. When shall we go down and see if we've got a bite?" "This evening," said Fred, shortly; and they went back to the camp to stay a few hours, and then get leave to go down again, making their way round the east end of the lake, up through the scattered woodland to the old patch of forest, and then in and out till they gained the broken-in entrance hidden by the dead blanches of the oak. "It's all right, sir," said Samson, drily, as he caught sight of the opening at the same time as his master. Yes: it was all right; for the bait Samson had placed there to test the presence of his brother was gone. "Samson," whispered Fred, "this is our secret. I want to be loyal to my party; but I feel as if I must help these poor fellows." "That's very sad, sir," replied Samson; "and I feel as if I ought to go and fetch a dozen of our men to search this place; but whatever you tell me to do, I shall do--that is to say, so long as you don't ask me and Nat to make it up." "I will not ask you, Samson," said Fred; "I'll leave you to ask me if you may." _ |
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