Patience Wins Part 72

That spring my father and mother came down, and that autumn I left Arrowfield and went to an engineering school for four years, after which I went out with a celebrated engineer who was going to build some iron railway bridges over one of the great Indian rivers.

I was out there four years more, and it was with no little pleasure that I returned to the old country, and went down home, to find things very little changed.

Of course my uncles were eight years older, but it was singular how slightly they were altered. The alteration was somewhere else.

"By the way, Cob," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "I thought we wouldn't write about it at the time, and then it was forgotten; but just now, seeing you again, all the old struggles came back. You remember the night of the fire?"

"Is it likely I could forget it?" I said.

"No, not very. But you remember going down to the works and finding no watchman--no dog."

"What! Did you find out what became of poor old Jupiter?"

"Yes, poor fellow! The scoundrels drowned him."

"Oh!"

"Yes. We had to drain the dam and have the mud cleaned out three--four years ago, and we found his chain twisted round a great piece of iron and the collar still round some bones."

"The cowardly ruffians!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," said Uncle Jack; "but that breed of workman seems to be dying out now."

"And all those troubles," said Uncle Bob, "are over."

That afternoon I went down to the works, which seemed to have grown smaller in my absence; but they were in full activity; and turning off to the new range of smithies I entered one where a great bald-headed man with a grisly beard was hammering away at a piece of steel.

He did not look up as I entered, but growled out:

"I shall want noo model for them blades, Mester John, and sooner the better."

"Why, Pannell, old fellow!" I said.

He raised his head and stared at me.

"Why, what hev yow been doing to theeself, Mester John?" he said. "Thou looks--thou looks--"

He stopped short, and the thought suddenly came to me that last time he saw me I was a big boy, and that in eight years I had grown into a broad-shouldered man, six feet one high, and had a face bronzed by the Indian sun, and a great thick beard.

"Why, Pannell, don't you know me?"

He threw down the piece of steel he had been hammering, struck the anvil a clanging blow with all his might, shouted "I'm blest!" and ran out of the smithy shouting:

"Hey! Hi, lads! Stivins--Gentles! The hull lot on yo'! Turn out here! Hey! Hi! Here's Mester Jacob come back."

The men who had known me came running out, and those who had not known me came to see what it all meant, and it meant really that the rough honest fellows were heartily glad to see me.

But first they grouped about me and stared; then their lips spread, and they laughed at me, staring the while as if I had been some great wild beast or a curiosity.

"On'y to think o' this being him!" cried Pannell; and he stamped about, slapping first one knee and then the other, making his leather ap.r.o.n sound again.

"Yow'll let a mon shek hans wi' thee, lad?" cried Pannell. "Hey, that's hearty! On'y black steel," he cried in apology for the state of his hand.

Then I had to shake hands all round, and listen to the remarks made, while Gentles evidently looked on, but with his eyes screwed tight.

"Say a--look at his arms, lads," cried Stevens, who was as excited as everybody. "He hev growed a big un. Why, he bets the three mesters 'cross the showthers."

Then Pannell started a cheer, and so much fuss was made over me that I was glad to take refuge in the office, feeling quite ashamed.

"Why, Cob, you had quite an ovation," said Uncle Bob.

"Yes, just because I have grown as big as my big uncles," I said in a half-vexed way.

"No," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "not for that, my lad. The men remember you as being a stout-hearted plucky boy who was always ready to crush down his weakness, and fight in the cause of right."

"And who always treated them in a straightforward manly way," said Uncle Jack.

"What! Do you mean to say those men remember what I used to do?"

"Remember!" cried Uncle Bob; "why it is one of their staple talks about how you stood against the night birds who used to play us such cowards'

tricks. Why, Gentles remains _Trappy_ Gentles to this day."

"And bears no malice?" I said.

"Malice! Not a bit. He's one of our most trusty men."

"Don't say that, Bob," said Uncle Jack. "We haven't a man who wouldn't fight for us to the end."

"Not one," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "You worked wonders with them, Cob, when you were here."

"Let's see, uncles," I said; "I've been away eight years."

"Yes," they said.

"Well, I haven't learned yet what it is not to be modest, and I hope I never shall."

"What do you mean?" said Uncle d.i.c.k.

"What do I mean!" I said. "Why, what did I do but what you three dear old fellows taught me? Eh?"

There was a silence in the office for a few minutes. No; only a pause as to words, for wheels were turning, blades shrieking, water splas.h.i.+ng, huge hammers thudding, and there was the hiss and whirr of steam-sped machines, added since I went away, for "Russell's," as the men called our works, was fast becoming one of the most prosperous of the small businesses in our town.

Then Uncle d.i.c.k spoke gravely, and said: "Cob, there are boys who will be taught, and boys whom people try to teach and never seem to move.

Now you--"

No, I cannot set down what he said, for I profess to be modest still. I must leave off sometime, so it shall be here.