Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story > This page
Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 46. Samson Disobeys Orders |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FORTY SIX. SAMSON DISOBEYS ORDERS "Ho! Scar!" No answer. "Hoi! Scar Markham!" The second call was louder, and this time Fred Forrester had thrust his head down the hole, so that his voice went echoing along the passage, and died away in a whisper; but the only effect it had was to produce a low chuckling sound from Samson. "What are you laughing at, sir?" cried Fred, angrily. "Only at you, Master Fred, sir." "How dare--" "No, no; don't be cross with me, sir. I only felt as you'd have felt if you'd been me, and I'd been you." "What do you mean?" "Why, it seemed so rum for us to have slipped down here again, pretending to fish, so as to be laughed at because we hadn't caught any, and for you to turn yourself upside down, with your head in the hole, and your legs up in the air, shouting like that!" "Don't be a donkey, Samson." "No, Master Fred; I'll promise you that, faithful like; but it do seem rum. 'Tarn't likely, you know, sir, 'tarn't likely." "What isn't likely?" "Why, that aren't, sir. Even if Master Scar is hiding there." "If? He must be. Nobody else knows of the existence of the place." "Wouldn't our Nat, sir?" "No. How could he?" "Well, sir, I can't say how he could; but he always was a nasty hunting-up-things sort of boy. So sure as I hid anything in my box at home, or anywhere else, he'd never rest till he found it; and as he was hiding away here, he may have hunted out this hole, and took possession like a badger." "It might be so," said Fred, thoughtfully; and he approached the hole once more. "'Tarn't no good, Master Fred," said Samson, chuckling. "You might just as well go to a rabbit's hole, and shout down that, 'Hoi! bunny, bunny, come out and have your neck broken.'" "Don't talk so," said Fred, angrily. "No, sir, not a word; but you forget that we're enemies now, and that it's of no use to call to Master Scarlett or our Nat to come, because they won't do it. There's two ways, sir, and that's all I can make out, after no end of thinking." As Samson spoke, he held up his hand, and went back a few yards to reconnoitre. "Don't see nor hear nothing, Master Fred," he said, as he returned; "but we're making a regular path through the wilderness, so plain that soon every one will see." "Then we must go for the future to the opening by the lake, and try what we can do there." "And get wet!" "What did you mean by your two ways of finding out whether they are there?" "Well, sir, one's by putting bread and meat bait afore the hole, and coming to see whether it's been taken." "But we've tried that again and again, and it is taken," said Fred, impatiently. "What's the other way?" Samson chuckled, and thrust his hand into his wallet, where he made a rattling noise. "Don't be stupid, Samson," cried Fred, angrily. "What do you mean?" "These here, sir," cried Fred's follower, drawing something out of the wallet. "Well, what's that--flint and steel?" "Tinder box and bit o' candle, Master Fred. That's the best way, after all." "Samson!" cried Fred, joyously. "I did not think of that. Come along." "Stop a moment, my lad; don't let's do nothing rash. Just think a bit." "I've no time to think." "Ay, but you must, sir. That there's a long hole, and you're thinking of going down it." "Yes, of course." "Suppose there's somebody at home?" "That's just what I hope to find." "But we shall be like a couple of rabbits running into a fox's hole, and he may bite." "Not if he knows that we come as friends." "No, Master Fred, p'raps not; but we're enemies." "No, we're not, Samson, and you are wasting time." "Which I don't want to contradict you, Master Fred; but enemies we are by Act o' Parliament, and that you know as well as me." "Then you are afraid of the adventure?" "Who says so?" growled Samson. "I do, sir. So you had better go back, and I'll make the venture alone." "I wish you was somebody else, Master Fred." "Why?" "Oh, I'd know, sir." "Give me the flint and steel and the candle." "What for, sir?" "To light," cried Fred, impatiently. "Nay, I'm going to light that candle, and I'm going along with you, Master Fred. Why, what would the colonel say if he found out that I'd left you in the lurch?" "Better leave me than give me a coward for a companion." "Well, I do call that cruel to a man as only wanted to tell you what a risk it was. Never know'd me to be a coward yet, Master Fred, never! I only wanted you to understand the worst. Come along, sir." Before Fred could interfere, Samson had taken two or three strides, and then made a leap right on to the dead branches which masked the entrance to the hole. The result was as might be expected; he crashed through feet first, and disappeared. "Samson!" exclaimed Fred, as he dashed to the opening. "I'm all right, sir, so far," said the rough fellow, looking up with a grim smile on his face. "That's the worst of being a coward and afraid. It makes you rush at things, instead of taking 'em coolly. Here, let me help you down." "I can manage," replied Fred, quietly, as he felt annoyed with himself. "Better draw your sword." "No, sir," said Samson, coolly; "if I do they'll think I'm afraid; and besides, there's no room to give it a good swing for a cut, and the point's blunt since I used it for digging up potatoes." "No, no; I can get down," said Fred, quickly, as Samson once more offered his help, and the next moment he was also standing in the old passage, peering before him, and listening. All was as silent as the grave, and a chilly feeling of dread came over the lad, as he wondered whether poor Nat had, after all, only crawled in there to die, just as some unfortunate wounded creature seeks a hole to be at rest. "What nonsense! when he took the food we put there," he muttered the next moment. "What say, sir? Shall I strike a light?" Samson did not wait for an answer to his first question before propounding the second. "Yes. Go a few steps forward out of the light," whispered Fred, "and then we are not likely to be heard." "Not from outside," grumbled Samson; "but how about them inside? They'll come down and spit us like black cock on a big skewer." "What are you muttering about?" whispered Fred, as his companion went forward and knelt down. "I was only saying, don't blame me if they come down on us with swords that hasn't been used to dig potatoes, Master Fred." "Let me come by you, and I'll stand on guard while you strike a light." "No, sir; I shan't," said Samson, gruffly. "What's that?" "You heared, sir." "Yes, I did hear," whispered Fred, angrily; "and please remember, sir, that I am your officer." "Can't remember that now, Master Fred, only that you're to be took care of. I had strict orders to be always ready to shove my big body in front of you when anybody was going to" (_nick_, _nick_) "cut at you" (_nick_, _nick_, _nick_)--"Look at that!--with a sword." "Who gave you those orders?" said Fred, sharply. "Your mother, sir, 'fore we" (_nick_, _nick_) "started for the wars at first." (_Nick_, _nick_) "I shall never get a light." Samson was down upon his knees, striking a piece of flint sharply upon a thin bar of steel turned over at each end, so as to form a double hook, which the operator grasped in his left hand, while Fred stood gazing straight before him, sword drawn, and the point held over his man's head, ready to receive any attack. At every stroke with the flint, a number of sparks shone out for a moment, lighting up the striker's face, but though he kept on nicking away, there was no result. "Why, Samson," whispered Fred, as he mastered a curious sensation of emotion at the man's words, which brought up the memory of a pair of tender, loving eyes gazing into his at the moment of farewell, "you have forgotten the tinder!" The nicking sound ceased on the instant, and Samson began indignantly-- "Well, I do like that, Master Fred. I mayn't be a scholar, and I never larnt Latin, and that sort of stuff, but I'll grow vegetables and make cider with any man in Coombeland." "What has making cider to do with tinder, you great oaf!" cried Fred, angrily, so as to hide his emotion. "Nothing at all, sir; only you seem to think I'm such a bog-walker that I haven't sense to know how to strike a light." "Well, where is the light? and how can you expect to get one without tinder?" "I don't. Here's the tinder in a box, but all the sparks are blown over it by the draught." "Then strike lower man." "There, then," cried Samson, viciously, as he nicked harder, with the result that one of the tiny sparks, instead of fading out, seemed to remain motionless on the floor. This spark Samson blew till it increased and glowed more brightly, showing his face close to the light, and the point of something yellow being applied to the red glow. That something yellow, being a pointed match dipped in brimstone, began to melt, and then boil and burst into a blue fluttering flame, which ignited the match; and the next minute Samson held up the lighted candle close to the arched roof of the passage, exclaiming, "There!" in a triumphant tone; and then, "Why, this is only a big drain, Master Fred!" "Hist! Give me the light," said Fred, as he listened intently. "Going along here, sir?" "Yes, of course." "All right, sir; I'm candlestick," said Samson, making a rattling noise as he replaced the light-engendering apparatus in his pouch. "No, no; I'll go first," said Fred, impatiently. "Yes, sir; you shall go first after the light." "Samson!" "Yes, sir. What would your mother say, if I let you go straight into danger like this, with me here?" "Will you recollect that you are a soldier, sir?" "Of course I will, Master Fred. How is a man to help it, with an iron pot on his head rubbing him bald? Ready, sir?" "Ready? Yes." "Then here goes!" said Samson. "Can't expect a man to obey orders when he's underground." Samson strode on with the candle in his left hand and his sword now in his right, leading the way, with his young master close behind, and their shadows following and seeming to dance on the floor and walls, which glistened here and there with moisture. They proceeded slowly, Samson twice over hazarding a remark on the dampness, but only to be sternly told to proceed, till at last the little flight of steps appeared leading into the vault, where they came to a sudden halt, for something suddenly flashed in the light of the candle, and a harsh voice cried-- "Stand!" _ |
||