Nobody's Boy Part 40

But how was it the others were not shouting. If they were I could not hear them. I was distracted, for I did not know which way to turn in this cold, black water.

Then, suddenly, I heard the sounds of voices again and I knew which way to turn. After having taken a dozen strokes back, I turned to the right, then to the left, but only found the walls. Where were the rails? I was sure now that I was in the right level, then I suddenly realized that the railroad had been carried away by the rush of waters, and that I had no guide. Under these circ.u.mstances it was impossible for me to carry out my plan, and I was forced to turn back.

I swam back quickly to our place of refuge, the voices guiding me. As I approached, it seemed to me that my companions' voices were more a.s.sured as though they felt stronger. I was soon at the entrance of the shaft! I hallooed to them.

"Come back; come back," shouted the professor.

"I could not find the way," I called out.

"Never mind, the tunnel is nearly finished: they hear our cries and we can hear theirs. We shall soon speak."

I climbed quickly up to our landing and listened. We could hear the blows from the picks and the cries of those who worked for our freedom came to us feebly, but yet very distinct. After the first rush of joy, I realized that I was frozen. As there were no warm clothes to give me, they buried me up to the neck in coal dust and Uncle Gaspard and the professor huddled up against me to keep me warm.

We knew now that our rescuers would soon reach us through the tunnel and by the water, but these last hours of our imprisonment were the hardest to bear. The blows from the picks continued, and the pumping had not stopped for one moment. Strange, the nearer we reached the hour of our deliverance, the weaker we grew. I was lying in the coal dust trembling, but I was not cold. We were unable to speak.

Suddenly, there was a noise in the waters of the gallery and, turning my head, I saw a great light coming towards us. The engineer was at the head of several men. He was the first to climb up to us. He had me in his arms before I could say a word.

It was time, for my heart was failing me, yet I was conscious that I was being carried away, and I was wrapped up in a blanket after our rescuers had waded through the water in the gallery. I closed my eyes; when I opened them again it was daylight! We were in the open air! At the same time something jumped on me. It was Capi. With a bound he had sprung upon me as I laid in the engineer's arms. He licked my face again and again. Then my hand was taken; I felt a kiss and heard a weak voice murmuring: "Remi! oh, Remi!"

It was Mattia. I smiled at him, then I glanced round.

A ma.s.s of people were crowded together in two straight rows, leaving a pa.s.sage down the center. It was a silent crowd, for they had been requested not to excite us by their cries, but their looks spoke for their lips. In the first row I seemed to see some white surplices and gilt ornaments which shone in the sun. They were the priests, who had come to the entrance of the mine to offer prayers for our deliverance.

When we were brought out, they went down on their knees in the dust.

Twenty arms were stretched out to take me, but the engineer would not give me up. He carried me to the offices, where beds had been prepared to receive us.

Two days later I was walking down the village street followed by Mattia, Alexix, and Capi. There were some who came and shook me by the hands with tears in their eyes, and there were others who turned away their heads. These were in mourning, and they asked themselves bitterly why this orphan child had been saved when their fathers and sons were still in the mine, ghastly corpses, drifting hither and thither in the dark waters.

CHAPTER XXIII

ONCE MORE UPON THE WAY

I had made some friends in the mine. Such terrible experiences, born in common, unites one. Uncle Gaspard and the professor, in particular, had grown very fond of me and, although the engineer had not shared our captivity, he had become attached to me like one is to a child that one has s.n.a.t.c.hed from death. He invited me to his house. I had to tell his daughter all that had happened to us in the mine.

Every one wanted to keep me at Va.r.s.es. The engineer told me that if I wished he would find me a position in the offices; Uncle Gaspard said he would get me a permanent job in the mine; he seemed to think it quite natural that I should return to the colliery; he himself was soon going down again with that indifference that men show who are accustomed to brave danger each day. I had no wish to go back. A mine was very interesting, and I was very pleased that I had seen one, but I had not the slightest desire to return. I preferred to have the sky over my head, even a sky full of snow. The open-air life suited me better, and so I told them. Every one was surprised, especially the professor.

Carrory, when he met me, called me a "chicken."

During the time that they were all trying to persuade me to stay at Va.r.s.es, Mattia became very preoccupied and thoughtful. I questioned him, but he always answered that nothing was the matter. It was not until I told him that we were starting off on our tramps in three days' time, that he admitted the cause of his sadness.

"Oh, I thought that you would stay and that you would leave me," he said.

I gave him a good slap, so as to teach him not to doubt me.

Mattia was quite able to look after himself now. While I was down in the mine he had earned eighteen francs. He was very proud when he handed me this large sum, for with the hundred and twenty-eight that we already had, this made a total of one hundred and forty-six francs. We only wanted four francs more to be able to buy the Prince's cow.

"Forward! March! Children!" With baggage strapped on our back we set forth on the road, with Capi barking and rolling in the dust for joy.

Mattia suggested that we get a little more money before buying the cow; the more money we had, the better the cow, and the better the cow, the more pleased Mother Barberin would be.

While tramping from Paris to Va.r.s.es I had begun to give Mattia reading lessons and elementary music lessons. I continued, these lessons now.

Either I was not a good teacher, which was quite possible, or Mattia was not a good pupil, which also was quite possible; the lessons were not a success. Often I got angry and, shutting the book with a bang, told him that he was a thickhead.

"That's true," he said, smiling; "my head is only soft when it's banged.

Garofoli found out that!"

How could one keep angry at this reply. I laughed and we went on with the lessons. But with music, from the beginning, he made astonis.h.i.+ng progress. In the end, he so confused me with his questions, that I was obliged to confess that I could not teach him any more. This confession mortified me exceedingly. I had been a very proud professor, and it was humiliating for me not to be able to answer my pupil's questions. And he did not spare me, oh, no!

"I'd like to go and take one lesson from a real master," he said, "only just one, and I'll ask him all the questions that I want answered."

"Why didn't you take this lesson from a real master while I was in the mine?"

"Because I didn't want to take what he would charge out of your money."

I was hurt when Mattia had spoken thus of a _real_ master, but my absurd vanity could not hold out against his last words.

"You're a good boy," I said; "my money is your money; you earn it also, and more than I, very often. You can take as many lessons as you like, and I'll take them with you."

The master, the _real_ master that we required, was not a villager, but an _artiste_, a great _artiste_, such as might be found only in important towns. Consulting our map we found that the next big town was Mendes.

It was already night when we reached Mendes and, as we were tired out, we decided that we could not take a lesson that evening. We asked the landlady of the inn where we could find a good music master. She said that she was very surprised that we asked such a question; surely, we knew Monsieur Espina.s.sous!

"We've come from a distance," I said.

"You must have come from a very great distance, then?"

"From Italy," replied Mattia.

Then she was no longer astonished, and she admitted that, coming from so far then, we might not have heard of M. Espina.s.sous.

"Is this professor very busy?" I asked, fearing that such a celebrated musician might not care to give just one lesson to two little urchins like ourselves.

"Oh, yes, I should say he is busy; how couldn't he be?"

"Do you think that he would receive us to-morrow morning?"

"Sure! He receives every one, when they have money in their pockets ...

naturally."

We understood that, of course.

Before going to sleep, we discussed all the questions that we intended asking the celebrated professor the next day. Mattia was quite elated at our luck in finding just the kind of musician we wanted.

Next morning we took our instruments, Mattia his violin and I my harp, and set out to find M. Espina.s.sous. We did not take Capi, because we thought that it would not do to call on such a celebrated person with a dog. We tied him up in the inn stables. When we reached the house which our landlady indicated was the professor's, we thought that we must have made a mistake, for before the house two little bra.s.s plaques were swinging, which was certainly not the sign of a music professor. The place bore every appearance of a barber's shop. Turning to a man, who was pa.s.sing, we asked him if he could direct us to M. Espina.s.sous'

house.