Part 12 (1/2)

”Waiting for us outside.”

”Why doesn't he come in?”

”He's busy.”

I wondered what Uncle Bob was busy about; but I noticed that my uncles were preparing for the expedition, putting some tools and a small lantern in a travelling-bag. After this Uncle Jack took it open downstairs ready for starting.

”Look here, Cob,” said Uncle d.i.c.k; ”we are going down to the works.”

”What! To-night?”

”Yes, my lad, to-night.”

”But you can't get in. The men have the key.”

”I have the agent's keys. There are two sets, and I am going down now.

Look here; take a book and amuse yourself, and go to bed in good time.

Perhaps we shall be late.”

”Why, you are going to stop all night,” I cried, ”so as to be there before the men?”

”I confess,” he said, laughing in my excited face.

”And I sha'n't see any of the fun,” I cried.

”There will not be any fun, Cob.”

”Oh, yes, there will, uncle,” I said. ”I say, do let me come.”

He shook his head, and as I could make no impression on him I gave up, and slipped down to Uncle Jack, who was watching Mrs Stephenson cut some huge sandwiches for provender during the night.

”I say, uncle,” I whispered, ”I know what you are going to do. Take me.”

”No, no,” he said. ”It will be no work for boys.”

He was so quiet and stern that I felt it was of no use to press him, so I left the kitchen and went to the front door to try Uncle Bob for my last resource.

I opened the door gently, and started back, for there was a savage growl, and I just made out the dark form of a big-headed dog tugging at a string.

”Down, Piter!” said Uncle Bob. ”Who is it? You, Cob? Here, Piter, make friends with him. Come out.”

I went out rather slowly, for the dog was growling ominously; but at a word from Uncle Bob he ceased, and began to smell me all round the legs, stopping longest about my calves, as if he thought that would be the best place for a bite.

”Pat him, Cob, and pull his ears.”

I stooped down rather unwillingly, and began patting the ugliest head I ever saw in my life. For Piter--otherwise Jupiter--was a brindled bull-dog with an enormous head, protruding lower jaw, pinched-in nose, and grinning teeth. The sides of his head seemed swollen, and his chest broad, his body lank and lean, ending in a shabby little thin tail.

”Why, he has no ears,” I said.