Glyn Severn's Schooldays Part 47

"Then I am right," he said to himself. "How strange!" And as he followed to the mouth of the drain into which the contents of the pail were to be poured he caught hold of the string.

"Here, don't do that, sir," cried Wrench. "You'll cover yourself with mud. Let me," and before the boy could stop him the man had s.n.a.t.c.hed the string from his hand and drawn it out.

"Broken away," said Glyn to himself, as the end was drawn from the bucket, and he now peered anxiously into the pail, expecting to see one end of the long morocco case standing up out of the thick contents.

But as the half-fluid mud was poured away the empty bucket went down and its fellow rose similarly filled.

Glyn expected to see the rest of the string, for nothing like half of that which he believed he had lost had come up.

Again he was disappointed, for there was neither string nor case, and for some time bucket after bucket rose, at first full of mud, but by slow degrees containing half, a quarter, and then only a small portion of mud and water at a time, while each time the empty ones reached the bottom a hollow sc.r.a.ping sound arose, as by clever manipulation of the rope by Wrench they were dragged along the bottom.

"I say, Mr Severn, sir," he cried, "who'd ever have thought that there was all that mud under the beautiful clear water? Ah, it must be a mort of years since it was cleared out, and now we are at it we will do it well--let the water come in a little and give it a good wash out two or three times over. I won't let it fill up at all till we have sc.r.a.ped this all clear. That's the way to do it," he continued, giving the rope a swing so as to turn the bucket on its side and sc.r.a.pe it along the bottom. "Hear that, sir? All hard stone at the bottom down there, and mud and mud. Now, I half-expected to find a lot of things that had fallen down, and the hoops of some old bucket that had been lost."

Glyn started at the man's words, and saw in his mind's eye the long red morocco case, blackened now and saturated with water, while he wondered what effect the moisture would have had on the beautiful gold-embroidered leather of the belt.

"Yes," continued Wrench, giving Glyn as he stood close beside the mouth of the well what seemed to the boy a malicious grin, "I did expect to find something curious down there; but the buckets run easily over the bottom, and there don't seem to be--yes, there is," he shouted excitedly. "Nothing like patience in fis.h.i.+ng. I have got a bite."

Glyn's heart seemed to stand still as the man gave a s.n.a.t.c.h at the rope.

"That's the way to strike," he cried excitedly. "I've caught him, and a heavy one too."

Glyn's heart sank with disappointment, for there was no heaviness about the belt, and he stood waiting now as the winch was steadily turned and the bucket began to rise.

They had not been observed before, but a little party of about a dozen of the younger boys had been hovering for some time about the well-house-door, and first one and then another made a dash in from time to time when Wrench was too busy with the buckets to take any notice of them.

Burton had come inside now, to range up close to Glyn, and in an affectionate way pa.s.sed his arm round that of the lad who had been his defender more than once.

Glyn responded by withdrawing his arm, placing both hands on the little fellow's shoulders, and thrusting him in front so that the boy could have a good view of all that there was to see.

"I say, Severn," he cried, turning his head to look up, "no larks--no shoving me down the well!"

"Why not?" said Severn merrily, as he gripped the little fellow tighter.

"Because old Slegge will want me to bowl for him, and he likes kicking me."

"Likes kicking you? Why?" said Glyn, speaking almost mechanically, for he was anxiously watching the dark hole for the ascent of the next bucket.

"Because I'm so soft and don't hurt his feet."

"Don't let it drop out, mates," cried the gardener, who was on the other side of the well, turning one winch. "Hold tight now you have got him.

Do you know what it is?"

"No," replied Wrench; "but I think by the feel of it when I got it slithered into the bucket that it must be an old brick out of the side somewhere."

"Yah! Not it!" said the gardener. "I'll tell you what it is: it's that big old tom-cat of the Doctor's that used to be about the garden and was always scratching up my young plants. He was missing four or five years ago, and I dare say he got into the top bucket to curl up for a nap one night, and went down in it and was drowned."

"If it is," said Wrench, "he's got to be pretty heavy with soaking up so much water down below. Maybe you know better than that how it was he did get drowned and left off scratching up your plants."

As the man said these words little Burton gave quite a jump, and made a peculiar sound.

"Here," said Glyn quietly, "what are you starting at? Did you think I was going to pretend to push you in?"

"N-n-no," said the little fellow in a peculiar tone.

"What are you laughing at?" said Glyn, tightening his hold on the boy's shoulders.

The little fellow squirmed.

"It--it--it--it--it,"--he stuttered--"it does tickle me so!"

"There, there! Steady, steady!" said Glyn. "No nonsense, or I shall send you out of the well-house."

"No, no; please don't, Severn," whispered the boy excitedly. "Let me stay, please. I do so want to see."

"Very well, then, only no games now," and in rather a hopeless way, feeling as he did that there would be no morocco case and belt brought up this time, Glyn patiently waited till from out of the darkness the bucket came into sight, was wound up till it was well within reach, a thump and a sc.r.a.ping noise coming echoing up from the bottom to announce that its fellow had reached the end of its journey, and Wrench cried out "Wo--ho!" for the gardener to hold on tightly by the handle and prevent the heavy bucket running down again.

"Why, Crumpets!" cried Wrench, "what in the world have we got here?"

while Burton reached both hands back behind him so as to get a good grip at the lapels of Severn's jacket, and began to dance with delight.

"Why, it's a cricket-bat!" cried Wrench. "Hanging over the side of the bucket by a string tied round the handle!"

At this Burton began to make uncouth sounds as if he were being choked in his efforts to suppress a hearty burst of laughter.

"Well, this 'ere's a pretty game," continued Wrench, as he took hold of the bat by the handle and ran his hand along the muddy string till at the bottom of the bucket his hand came in contact with a heavy brick.

"Why, any one would think it was a tom-cat with a string round its neck and a brick at the other end of the string so as to keep him down. Four or five years ago! Why, that would be time enough for all the flesh and skin to have gone; but I never knowed that cats' skillingtons was shaped like a cricket-bat.--Here, steady, youngster!" he continued to the little fellow, "if you laugh like that you will have a fit."

"Oh, I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" panted the little chap, and wrenching himself free from Glyn's grasp he rushed out at the well-house door, ten or a dozen of his comrades bounding up to him as he shouted, "Oh, come and look! come and look! Here it is! They've pulled it up, drowned and quite dead."

There was a yell of delight from the little crowd, and all rushed up to the well-house-door, to begin performing something like a triumphant war-dance about the blackened and muddy bat.

"Here, I say, some one," cried Burton, "run and tell old Slegge that they have found his cricket-bat drowned in the well like a dead dog in a pond."

"Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+ Oh no. Hold your tongue!" whispered another of the boys excitedly. "Let him find it out for himself. Don't let the cat out of the bag."

"Bat out of the bag, you mean," said Glyn, who knew of the disappearance of the bat and began to see through what had been done. "Which of you did this?"

There was no reply.

"Do you hear?" cried Glyn, catching Burton by the collar of his jacket.

"I shan't tell," replied the little fellow. "Serve him right for loading the old bat with lead.--Chuck it down again, somebody."

"Nay," cried Wrench; "I am not going to have any more things drowned in my well. Now then, stand aside, some of you! Clear out, and take that bat away."

"Here," cried Burton. "Come on, boys! Bring it along."

"Stop a moment," said Glyn. "Here's a painted wooden label here.

What's this on it?"