Devon Boys Part 74

"But I'm not sure it is the silver," I cried in a despairing tone.

"But I am," he said. "The boxes are lying all about. They look like stones if you stare down, because they are all amongst the weed; but when I got down to feel for the grapnel I was right upon them. It's in amongst them somehow. That was why I came up again and tried to fasten the line round one."

"But are you quite sure, Big?" I said, trembling with eagerness.

"Quite sure," he said. "There can't be any mistake about it. The Frenchman's boat ran on the rock and capsized, and all the chests must have gone to the bottom like a shot."

"And my poor father suffering all that worry, when here lay all his silver at the bottom, close to the sh.o.r.e. Here, what shall we do, Bigley? We must stop and watch it, for fear anybody else should come and find it."

"No fear of that," he said, drawing the rope once more through the ring-bolt, and then securing the boat-hook to the end, and throwing it overboard to act as a buoy. "Here, let's dress and go and tell him."

"Yes, yes," I cried, trembling with eagerness, and hurrying on my clothes, as he did his, we rowed ash.o.r.e, and after hauling the boat back to its safe place, climbed up the slope, and prepared to walk to the Bay.

"Big," I said; "I'm afraid to leave it. Suppose while we are gone someone goes and takes it all away."

"Ah! Suppose they do," he said. "But it isn't such an easy task.

n.o.body knows of it but us, Sep, and we can keep the secret."

"You are right," I said. "Come along, and let's make haste and tell him."

We strode along the cliff path that morning faster, I think, than we had ever gone before, and when we came in sight of our place I was going to rush in and tell my father, but something struck me that it would be only fair to let Bigley go, as he had made the discovery, so I told him to go first.

He would not, though, and we went up to the cottage together, to find Kicksey kicking up a dust in the parlour with a broom.

"Is father up yet?" I cried.

"Yes, my dear, hours ago, and half-way to Barnstaple before now."

"What!" I cried.

"He's going to London, my dear, and here's a letter that Sam was to bring over to you if you didn't come back to breakfast."

I tore open the letter and read it in a few moments.

It was very brief, and merely told me that he had had a letter the past night making so stern a demand upon him for money that he had decided to go up to London at once and sell the mine.

"Big," I said dolefully; "we've come too late. What shall we do?"

I gave him the letter to read, and he wrinkled up his brow.

"Go after him and catch him," he cried.

"Yes; but how?"

"I don't know," he panted; "let's try."

"But the silver?"

"Is locked up safely where we found it, lad," he cried. "It is a secret. Come on."

"But how, Big? He is riding."

"Then we must walk. A man can walk down a horse. Now, let's see if it can't be done by boys."

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

TRYING AN IMPOSSIBILITY.

We two set out to perform an impossibility: for though, starting together on a long journey, a good steady walker might tire out a horse carrying a man, and in a fortnight's work, before we had got half-way to Barnstaple, I knew that my father would have arranged to catch the coach, and I remembered that the coach would change horses every ten or twelve miles; and as all this forced itself into my mind, I sat down on a stone by the road-side.

"Tired?" said Bigley, wiping the perspiration from his face.

"No, not yet; but I've been thinking, and my thoughts get heavier every moment," I replied.

"What do you mean?" cried Bigley.

"That we cannot do this," I said; "and we should be doing something far more sensible if we go back home, and write a letter to my father. Why, it would get to him days before we could."

Bigley took off his cap and rubbed his ear.

"I'm afraid you are right," he said; "but I don't like to go back."

"Then let's go on to Barnstaple, and write to him from there."

"To be sure!" cried Bigley, jumping at the compromise. "Come along."

"No, I said; it will not do. I've left his letter behind, and I don't know where to write."

"Oh, Sep!" cried Bigley reproachfully. "Then, we must go back."

We stood looking at each other just as we had made a fresh start, and the weariness we were beginning to feel brought with it a strange low-spirited sensation that was depressing in the extreme.

"Come along," I said. "Let's get back, or we shall lose another day before we can get off a letter."

"Wait a minute," said Bigley; "there's the half-way house not a quarter of a mile away. We'll go on there and have some bread and cheese and cider, then we shall be able to walk back more quickly."

It did not take us long to reach the pretty little road-side ale-house, where the first thing I saw was the doctor's pony tied up to the gate by the rough stable or shed.

"Some one ill?" I said. "Shall we tell Doctor Chowne what we were going to do?"

I had hardly spoken these words when my father appeared at the door.

"Why, Sep, Uggleston!" he exclaimed; "you here?"

"Why, father!" I cried, catching him by the arm. "I thought you had gone."

"The pony broke down, my boy," said my father, "and I have had to bring him back here--walking all the way; and I was undecided as to whether I should pay someone to take him home, or lead him myself, and make a fresh start to-morrow."