Deep Moat Grange

  CHAPTER XII

  THE BRICKED PASSAGE

  Now I don't know whether you have ever been up a drain pipe which justtakes you, and no more. I suppose you have--in nightmares, aftersupping on cold boiled pork and greens, or some nice little digestiblemorsel like that. But really awake, and with the birds singing on thetrees, the winds lightly scented with bog myrtle and pine and brackenbreathing all about you--to be told to shove yourself up a built rabbithole, not knowing what you may come on the next time you put out yourhand!--Well, Hayfork Minister or no Hayfork--I had the hardest row tohoe that time! I don't think any fellow, even if he has climbed allthe mountains that are, has any right to let a boy in for a thing likethat without telling him beforehand. And smiling about it all thetime, as if he were merely sending you into Miss Payne's to buybutter-scotch!

  I felt as if I could have killed him the first half-dozen "creeps" Itook. And what was the worst of his cheek, he shoved me behind withthe oak branch, which he had sharpened, and said, "Go on!"

  If I could have got him then--up a drain--me with that same oak goad, Iwould have given it to him--cheerful, I would. Cheerful is no name forit!

  Inside the tunnel the bricks were not all of the same size. Some haddropped a little and pinched my shoulders. Some were wantingaltogether. And that fiend of a Hayfork, at the mouth, all safeoutside with the rope's-end in his hand kept singing up to me, "A-a-allright--a-a-right--it will get wider as you get farther in!"

  Much he knew! Had he been up, I'd like to know?

  However, he was right as it happened--right without knowing anythingabout it. The passage did widen a bit. I found offshoots--smallerpassages leading I don't know where. And I didn't put in my hand tofeel, having a dislike to be bitten by water rats--or any other kind ofrats. And it was an awful "ratty" place that, by the smell of it.

  Also, for all that Mr. Ablethorpe said, I was in mortal fear of comingacross poor Harry's leg, or of Mad Jeremy arriving and "settling" Mr.Ablethorpe, without my knowing anything about it. And when I cameout--I should find myself face to face with the oily curls, thesneering lip, and--specially, with the knife I had seen gleaming in histeeth when he swam the Moat to make an end of Elsie and me.

  I wasn't frightened, of course. Only I just thought what a fool I wasto be there. I am not the first, nor will I be the last to think thesame thing--when, like me, they are doing something dreadful noble andheroic.

  There were curious side passages, as I say, on each side of the tunnelalong which I was crawling--oh, so slowly. Some of these were narrowand smooth, where a brick had fallen out, and smelled "rat" yards off.I did not meddle with these. But there were bigger offshoots, too,properly bricked round and as tight as ninepence--no rats there.

  Well, it was in one of these that I came on my first treasure-trove. Ifelt a lot of things all tied together in a rough bag or cloth--heavy,too, and of course all clammy with moisture or mould or something likethat. No wonder--I felt all green-mouldy myself, after only a minuteor two.

  I tugged at the rope, and, almost before I knew it, I was out again inthe dancing speckle of the sunshine sifted through the leaves. Blindedby the sudden glare which sent blobs of colour dancing across myeyeballs, as if I had looked at the sun, I did not realize for a momentthat I had brought anything with me.

  "Let go!" I heard Mr. Ablethorpe say, and I was quite unconscious whatI was holding on to. Yet what I had found was little enough to theeye--a piece of rough sacking, roughly sewn about a quantity ofmetallic objects which jingled as Mr. Ablethorpe cut the outer coveringopen with his big "gully" knife.

  "Money!" the thought came natural to a boy; "have I disinterred atreasure?"

  And for the moment I was all ready to go back again to look for more.

  But the blade went on cutting, and presently the contents tinkled outupon the bank--about a dozen and a half of copper rings, rather thick,and each made with a hook at the bottom. I could not imagine what theywere for.

  But Mr. Ablethorpe bounded upon them, examining each one before puttingit in his pocket. Lastly he looked at the piece of canvas in whichthey had been wrapped, long and carefully.

  "Ah!" he said, "that, I think, will do!"

  And he closed the iron sliding door carefully, as it had been before,and thrusting his fingers into the shallow pool, he lifted up doublehandfuls of oozy mud and plastered it all over the entrance.

  "When that is dry," he said, "it will take a clever man to tell whereyou have poked your nose this afternoon, Joseph!"

  This seemed likely enough and satisfactory, from his point of view.But, as for me, I wanted very much to be told what it was all about.

  So I asked him what it was I had found, and why he wanted me to crawlup there, at any rate.

  "You found some copper rings and a piece of dirty canvas," he said,"neither more nor less. And I asked you to go up there because I wastoo fat to go myself. Were you nearly at the end, think you?"

  I told him no--that the passage seemed to widen as it went farther on.I think that at these words he was nearly replacing the rope, which hehad begun to coil, round my waist again.

  But he looked at his watch, and shook his head.

  "We have not the time to do it safely," he said; "but--let us see--ifit widens as you say, Joseph, it is very likely that it has anotheropening."

  He took a small plan out of his pocket, a tiny little measuring scale,nodded once or twice, and then began slowly to pace through the wood atright angles to the course of the Backwater.

  All at once he dropped to the ground as if shot. I judged it best toefface myself, too, and that promptly. So I crawled behind a big pinetree, about whose roots the male ferns were growing tall, and, puttingtheir thick scaly stems aside with my hand, I lay watching the heels ofthe boots which Mr. Ablethorpe wore.

  He kept quite still, apparently intent upon something I could not see.Now, of course (you will not have noticed it), but I am very curiousabout things that don't concern me in the least--not to talk about, youunderstand, but just to _know_. So, as the ferns grew prettycontinuously, and the pines held close together, shooting theirindigo-blue umbrellas into the sky, I wriggled along till I could laymy hand on one of the minister's boot heels.

  It was a foolish thing to do, for it nearly made him cry out. I sawhim set his teeth to shut in the sound. He had a nerve, the HayforkMinister, but I could see from his look that he would give it to meafter for coming on him like that. However, it was some fun to see himin a funk.

  And, indeed, with reason! For not more than a dozen yards down theslope, between us and the wall of the old orchard, I saw Mad Jeremy, onhis knees, digging with his fingers, eager as a terrier at a rat hole.

  Then I called to mind the mysterious crime of which Miss Aphra hadfound him guilty, and her stern accusation, "You've been diggingagain!" the day Elsie and I were at the Grange. Last of all, hisrepeated denial, his attempts to rub off the earth pellets, hissentence, tears, and punishment. Yes, I saw him digging with hisfingers just as his sister had said.

  Jiminy, how I wished I was at home!

  I might wish, indeed, but there we were stuck and had to wait--Mr.Ablethorpe and I--till Mad Jeremy, having finished his task, stampeddown the sods he had edged up at either side, and set with care a greatsquare flagstone in its place.

  Then he stood rubbing his hands together and grinning for some minutes,evidently well pleased with himself. A voice far away called:

  "Jeremy! Jeremy!"

  At the sound the smile was stricken from his face. The madman lookedguiltily at his hands, and seeing the condition in which they were, hemade straight for the Backwater, passing us within (I declare) fouryards. But the bracken was thick and tall, and we lay close, so thatJeremy failed to see us. Besides, his mind was evidently ill at ease.

  The voice from the direction of Deep Moat Grange continued to call:"Jeremy! Jeremy!" He did not reply, and we could hear him mutter,"What shall I say? What shall I say if she finds out?" r />
  Then, having pulled round the long tails of his coat, one after theother, he dried his hands carefully, held them up to see that they wereclean, and took his way up the side of the Backwater toward thedrawbridge, whistling as he went.

  For me, I was scared out of a year's growth. But the Hayfork Minister,lifting himself out of the ferns, and dusting lightly the knees of hisblack cord trousers, pointed to the great flagstone on which the turfshowed ragged edges, and said gravely: "The secret is there. That isthe other end of the tunnel!"

  He meant, I felt sure, to send me in again, in spite of all that we hadseen.

  As for me, however, I resolved to keep very clear of the HayforkMinister. He was a nice man, Mr. Ablethorpe, and a pleasure to know.But to be in a drain pipe for his sake, with the fear of Mad Jeremymeeting one face to face half-way up, put too high a price on hisfriendship. I resolved, therefore, in future to cut Mr. Ablethorpe'sacquaintance.