Chapter 16. Up The Camp Hill

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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. UP THE CAMP HILL

"Oh! isn't this a pretty walk?" said Fred, later on in the day, as they were ascending the winding road that led up the Camp Hill, a road that at every turn disclosed fresh views over the surrounding country. The whole party were there--Mrs Inglis and all, and busy enough they were collecting sprays, flowers, and leaves, as they went along; for rich indeed was the hill in floral beauties, fresh and bright, as they had just burst forth into bloom. Fred was busy as a bee collecting everything, and getting confused, and placing in his tin box the same kinds of plants two or three times over: but Fred was no botanist, only eager to learn; and very hard and tiresome to remember he found the names his uncle told him. However, he soon learnt which were the pistils, stamens, petals, and calyx of a flower, while of the other terms, the less we say the better; for although Fred had read a little upon the subject, his notions of classes and orders were rather wild. But for all that, he much enjoyed his trip, for no one could have ascended that path without feeling admiration of the many beauties it disclosed. The path had been cut entirely through the wood which surrounded the hill, while the feet pressed at every step upon the soft green elastic turf, that here grew of the finest texture, and in the shortest strands. Nowhere else could be found such large heaths, with their beautiful pinky lilac bells looking as though moulded in wax; while harebells, orchids, anemones, arums, formed only a tithe of the rich banquet of flowers which awaited the collector--and a most staunch collector was Mr Inglis. He used to say that he was one of the most ignorant of men, and the more he collected the more he found that out. No doubt, if he had kept entirely to one science, he would have been more skilled therein; but he said he liked that idea of a famous essayist, who compared a man who devoted himself entirely to one thing, to a tree that sent forth a tremendously great bough in one direction, while the rest of the tree was composed of wretched little twigs. He considered it better to have a little knowledge upon a good many subjects, than to excel so greatly in one only.

The view from the Camp Hill was one that could not be seen everywhere, for it overlooked a wide tract of the richest farm land in England. It was called the Camp Hill from the entrenchment at the summit, for here had the Romans in days long gone by established one of those mighty works that, after fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen centuries, still exist by the score in our country, to show how powerful and highly-disciplined were the armies that the Roman Emperors sent into Britain. Fred was, however, rather disappointed at the Camp: he expected to have seen turrets and embrasures, and, if not cannon, at all events a few catapults and battering-rams. But no; there was nothing to be seen but a broad ditch encircling the summit of the hill, and now completely covered with trees and bushes, so that the bottom of the great trench formed a walk, where, even at mid-day, the sun's rays were completely shut out, and where the nightingale would sing, all day as well as all night long.

I am ashamed to say that all three boys very soon tired of botanising, and were searching about the shady paths for anything or nothing, as the case might be. Now it was after butterflies; now the discordant cry of the jay told of its nest being, at hand; while every now and then the scampering rustle of a rabbit amidst the underwood would start the boys off in full chase, and in almost every instance the fruit of their hunt was, seeing the little white tail of the rabbit as its owner scuffled down its hole under some hazel stub. Once, while they were deep in the thickest shade, Philip gave a regular jump, for a great brown owl started from its roosting-place in an oak-tree, and softly and slowly flapped its way down the dell, but soon to have its flight quickened by a host of sandmartins, which began to mob the stolid-looking old fellow, till they all passed out of sight in a curve of the pathway.

Mr and Mrs Inglis were resting in a rustic seat placed opposite one of the openings in the trees, where there was a splendid view right out to sea; and while Mr Inglis was scanning the horizon with his telescope, the lads felt themselves quite at liberty to have a good ramble. Their first excursion was right round the hill, down in the trench, and here there was plenty to have taken their attention for a day: there was an ant-hill, swarming with those great black ants found in the woods, whose hill looks one lightly shovelled-up collection of earth: then, close at hand, they heard the regular "tip-tap" of the great green woodpecker; the harsh "pee-pee-peen" of the wryneck; while, from far off, floating upon the soft breeze, came the sweet bell-tones of the cuckoo. Directly after, came again the harsh cry of the jay, to be succeeded by the soft cooing of the cushat doves; and every interval was filled up by the bursts of song from the small finches, thrushes, and other denizens of the wooded hill. In one fir tree there was a pair of tiny gold-crested wrens, beautiful little birds, which seemed to consider that their insignificance was quite enough to keep them from harm. So tame were they that they could have been struck down by a stick, which would have been their fate but for the interposition of Philip, who seized his brother's arm as he was raising his hand to deal the blow. In a box-tree they found the pretty covered-in nest of a bottle-tit, beautifully compact, with its tiny opening or doorway--feather-eaved--at the side. It was a great temptation, and hard to resist was the sight of that nest; it was only about five feet from the ground, and they could have cut off the branch and brought it away with the nest uninjured; but they contented themselves with marking the spot by cutting an arrow in the bark of one of the beech-trees, and promising themselves that they would have the nest when the birds had done with it. All at once a bird fluttered from a bush close by--a bird with a large head and marked in the wings with a good deal of white, and off went the boys in chase; but almost at the first start, Philip stumbled by catching his foot in a long bramble runner, and went down sprawling amongst the heather, with Harry upon his back, for he could not pull up time enough to prevent stumbling over his brother. Away went Fred, all alone, and very soon he captured the strange bird, for its wing had been broken; but the muscles of the great beak it had were in a good state of preservation, as Fred soon knew to his cost, by the nip the prisoned bird gave him.

Fred shouted out with the pain, but he had grown more stoical since his sojourn in the country, and he held on tightly to his prize, which Harry declared, when he saw it, was a chaffinch with a swelled head; but afterwards, when they brought it to Mr Inglis, he told the boys it was a fine male specimen of the hawfinch, or grosbeak, rather a rare bird in the British Isles. A temporary cage was made for the prisoner by tying him up in a pocket-handkerchief, and then the party continued their ramble, finding fresh objects to take their attention at every step. Once a weasel ran out into the path, sat up a moment to look at the strangers, and then disappeared on the other side.

Fred was for giving chase, but his cousins gave him to understand how fruitless such a task would be; so he gave up his intention, and onward they still went, with fresh beauties springing up before them every minute. If they had been botanically disposed, they might have filled their boxes with mosses and lichens, from the tiniest green to the bright orange golden that clung round the branches and sprays of the bushes. Some of the beeches were almost covered with grey or creamy patches, of the most beautiful patterns and tints; while wherever a rotten bough, or fallen tree, lay upon the ground, the moss seemed to have taken full possession, and completely covered it with a velvety pile.

"I'm so thirsty, Phil," said Harry, all at once; "where's the old spring?"

"Oh! ever so far down the hill; and I don't know which side we are on now. Let's get back to Papa: I know there's something in the basket. Come along."

"It's no use to go back," said Harry, "let's go straight forward; they can't be far-off; I'll shout."

And shout he did, when a reply came from no very distant spot; so they struck off in the direction from which the sound proceeded, and soon found themselves again by the trench, where a portion of the gravelly soil had crumbled away, leaving the side so steep that Philip had to jump down about five feet before he could descend further. Harry thought this a capital chance for a practical joke, and gave a heavy stamp with his heel, so as to send a small avalanche of gravel and stones down upon his brother. But Harry had not calculated rightly this time, for Philip, as he heard the stones coming, made a buck leap, and came several feet lower down the side of the trench amongst the bushes; whilst Harry, by his stamp, loosened about a cartload of gravel, and, in company with Fred, went down with it, and they were buried up to the knees in the loose soil.

The first sensation felt was fear; but, upon finding that there was no further mischief to apprehend, Harry burst out laughing; Fred extricated himself, for he was in the loosest part of the heap of _debris_; while Philip, who was to have been the victim, seeing that his brother was stuck fast, indulged in a kind of triumphant dance round him, softly punching his head, and, of course, making the soil tighter at every jump.

"Oh! don't, Phil," said Harry; "pull a fellow out--there's a good chap."

But Philip would not, and threatened to leave him to his fate; so Harry appealed to Fred, and at last, by his assistance, got one leg out, when freeing the other proved an easy task. After which his lordship had to sit down and pull off his boots, to empty out the gravel and sand.

Meanwhile Fred was looking at the place where the earth had crumbled down, for his curiosity had been excited by what at first sight appeared to be a bit of old iron, of a very peculiar shape, and then, just beyond it, what bore the appearance of a bone, but so earthy that it crumbled under his foot.

"I say; look here," said he, pointing to something half enclosed in earth; "what's that?"

"Why, it's a skull," said Philip, coming up.

"You're a skull!" said Harry, leisurely buttoning up his boots again.

"Well, come and look," said Philip.

"Not I," said Harry; "you're up to some tricks."

"I'm not, I tell you," said Philip; "it's a skull, and there's another bit of one, and some bones; and here's an old farthing, such a thick one, and so badly made; and, ugh! why, that's a bit of jawbone, with all the teeth fallen out."

Just then Harry came up to them and saw that, indeed, they had hit upon something more curious--if less attractive--than anything they had before been that day.

"Why, this isn't a farthing," said Fred, who had been examining the coin; "I know what it is, it's a Roman coin. My Papa has got one, something like it."

Just then they heard Mr Inglis calling close at hand, and Philip bounded off to fetch him and tell of their discovery. This hastened the Squire's steps, and very soon he was carefully inspecting what the boys had laid bare. He immediately confirmed Fred's opinion that the coin was Roman, and also said that it was of silver, and appeared to bear the name of Constantine. Fred's piece of old iron was unmistakably the blade of a sword, but almost completely eaten away, and the bones and two skulls were directly pronounced to be human; but they crumbled away to dust almost immediately.

"Bravo, boys," said Mr Inglis at last; "you have indeed made a discovery. I have long been under the impression that this old trench must contain some curious antiquities, but never thought to see them laid bare in so singular a manner. We must have spades and pickaxes up here to-morrow, if we can get permission: but let's turn over the gravel with our sticks; we may, perhaps, find something more to-day."

"But won't the skulls and bones be nasty, and poisonous, uncle?" said Fred.

Mr Inglis smiled, and then said, "No, my boy. You have read how that God made Adam of the dust of the earth, and how that it is said, 'To dust thou shalt return,' and here you see how that it is so. Touch that bone ever so lightly, and you sea it has crumbled away to 'dust of the earth!' God has so arranged, by His great wisdom, that the earth shall deprive everything of its ill odour and poisonous nature when buried therein, so that even in some great pit upon a battle-field where, perhaps, scores--of the slain had been covered-in, in the course of time nothing would be found there but rich soil, for our bodies are chemically composed of nothing but salts and water. I do not mean what we commonly call salt, which is chloride of sodium, but of earthy salts."

"Well, but how can that be, Papa?" said Harry. "Has it ever been proved?"

"Oh! yes, my boy; and in no way more simply than by the very people who dug this trench. What did they often do with their dead, Harry?"

"Why, buried them, didn't they?" said Harry. "Oh! no, I know; they used to make a great wicker idol, and put them in and burn them."

"Why, those were the Ancient Britons, who used to do that with their prisoners," said Fred.

"Oh, ah; so it was," said Harry; "I forgot."

"Why, they used to burn them; didn't they, Papa?" said Philip.

"To be sure they did," said his father. "And what were their urns for?"

"Oh! I don't know," said Harry, "if it wasn't to make tea with."

"For shame, Hal," said Mr Inglis, good-humouredly. "Why, the ashes of the dead were collected and preserved in these cinereal urns; and what are ashes but earthy salts? Of course, in the process of burning, the water would be entirely driven off. But, look, Fred has turned up another coin."

For want of more effective tools than walking-sticks, the search for relics was not very successful. Fred found another coin, and Mr Inglis turned out two more; but nothing else was discovered, though it was evident that a protracted search would lead to the discovery of perhaps many curious antiquities; for Mr Inglis said that this had been a very important station in the time of the Roman occupation of Britain; and he regretted that the owner of that property was not a person who took an interest in such matters.

Mr Inglis tried very hard to raise one of the skulls; but although the one that had been in the most perfect state at first seemed hard enough to roll down the slope, yet, upon being touched, it seemed to be nothing else but earth.

At last the signal for starting was given, and, laden with treasures, the little party slowly moved homeward. The walk was lovely, for the sun was sinking behind them, so that the whole landscape and the far-off sea were flooded with the golden light. The heat of the day, too, was passed, and for the most part they walked home in the pleasant shade of the trees, while, one by one, as the golden sunset paled, the moths and bats came out; the night-jar took his hawking flight round the trees; the beetles boomed and whirred; and just as they left the wood, as if to say farewell, an owl cried out, "Tu--whoo--oo!" and then was perfectly silent again. The evening now seemed so cool and fresh that the boys forgot their fatigue, and kept on chatting and planning for future excursions till they reached the gates of the Grange, just as the sun ceased to gild the weathercock at the top of the church spire.

"Now, boys, be quick," said Mr Inglis, "for I'm sure we all want tea after such a walk as we have had; so hurry, hurry, and come down again quickly; and after tea we will see whether we can find out to what period the coins belong."

If ever Mr Inglis was quickly obeyed it was upon this occasion, and, as to making a meal, I think no boys ever could--but, there--it is not fair to talk about it, for anybody would have felt hungry after such a ramble through the woods and over the hills. But at last the meal was ended, and Mr Inglis brought out his coins, and one or two books of reference. His first movement was to try and clean off the rust of about fifteen centuries--which time must have elapsed since they were last employed as "current money of the merchant:" but the efforts were not very successful, neither were the attempts at deciphering the inscriptions, which were very faint and illegible; so he gave up the task for that evening; for, if the truth must be told, Mr Inglis was, like the boys, very tired, and not much disposed for study. As to Harry, he expressed an opinion to his cousin in a very low tone, that the Romans were all bother, and so was their language. But, by way of excuse, it must be said that Harry was very tired; and when people are very tired, they often say very cross and very stupid things; and this must have been the case at this particular moment, or Harry would never have made such a remark to his cousin Fred.

Mr Inglis afterwards had a long correspondence with the owner of the property, relative to the advisability of making excavations in the old intrenchment; but nothing satisfactory came of it, for there did not seem to be any disposition to grant Mr Inglis's request; and, therefore, the place remained unexamined. _

Read next: Chapter 17. High Flying

Read previous: Chapter 15. Stalking On Stilts

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