Part 13 (1/2)

The streets looked very miserable as we advanced, leaving behind us the noise and roar and glow of the panting machinery which every now and then whistled and screamed as if rejoicing over the metal it was cutting and forming and working into endless shapes. There behind us was the red cloud against which the light from a thousand furnaces was glowing, while every now and then came a deafening roar as if some explosion had taken place.

I glanced down at Piter expecting to see him startled, but he was Arrowfield born, and paid not the slightest heed to noise, pa.s.sing through a bright flash of light that shot from an open door as if it were the usual thing, and he did not even twitch his tail as we walked on by a wall that seemed to quiver and shake as some great piece of machinery worked away, throbbing and thudding inside.

”Here we are at last,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, as we reached the corner of our place, where a lamp shed a ghastly kind of glow upon the dark triangular shaped dam.

The big stone building looked silent and ghostly in the gloom, while the great chimney stood up like a giant sentry watching over it, and placed there by the men whom it was our misfortune to have to dislodge.

We had a perfect right to be there, but one and all spoke in whispers as we looked round at the buildings about, to see in one of a row of houses that there were lights, and in a big stone building similar to ours the faint glow of a fire left to smoulder till the morning. But look which way we would, there was not a soul about, and all was still.

As we drew closer I could hear the dripping of the water as it ran in by the wheel where it was not securely stopped; and every now and then there was an echoing plash from the great shut-in cave, but no light in any of the windows.

”Come and hold the bag, Jack,” whispered Uncle d.i.c.k; and then laughingly as we grouped about the gate with the dog sniffing at the bottom: ”If you see a policeman coming, give me fair warning. I hope that dog will not bark. I feel just like a burglar.”

Piter uttered a low growl, but remained silent, while Uncle d.i.c.k opened the gate and we entered.

As soon as we were inside the yard the bag was put under requisition again, a great screw-driver taken out, the lantern lit, and with all the skill and expedition of one accustomed to the use of tools, Uncle d.i.c.k unscrewed and took off the lock, laid it aside, and fitted on, very ingeniously, so that the old key-hole should do again, one of the new patent locks he had brought with him in the brown-paper parcel I had seen.

This took some little time, but it was effected at last, and Uncle d.i.c.k said:

”That is something towards making the place our own. Their key will not be worth much now.”

Securing the gate by turning the key of the new lock, we went next to the door leading into the works, which was also locked, but the key the agent had supplied opened it directly, and this time Uncle d.i.c.k held box and lantern while Uncle Jack took off the old and fitted on the second new lock that we had brought.

It was a curious scene in the darkness of that great stone-floored echoing place, where an observer who watched would have seen a round gla.s.s eye shedding a bright light on a particular part of the big dirty door, and in the golden ring the bull's-eye made, a pair of large white hands busy at work fixing, turning a gimlet, putting in and fastening screws, while only now and then could a face be seen in the ring of light.

”There,” said Uncle Jack at last, as he turned the well-oiled key and made the bolt of the lock play in and out of its socket, ”now I think we can call the place our own.”

”I say, Uncle Bob,” I whispered--I don't know why, unless it was the darkness that made me speak low--”I should like to see those fellows'

faces when they come to the gate to-morrow morning.”

”Especially Old Squintum's,” said Uncle Bob laughing. ”Pleasant countenance that man has, Cob. If ever he is modelled I should like to have a copy. Now, boys, what next?”

”Next!” said Uncle d.i.c.k; ”we'll just have a look round this place and see what there is belonging to the men, and we'll put all together so as to be able to give it up when they come.”

”The small grindstones are theirs, are they not?” said Uncle Bob.

”No; the agent says that everything belongs to the works and will be found in the inventory. All we have to turn out will be the blades they are grinding.”

Uncle d.i.c.k went forward from grindstone to grindstone, but only in one place was anything waiting to be ground, and that was a bundle of black-looking, newly-forged scythe blades, neatly tied up with bands of wire.

He went on from end to end, making the light play on grindstone, trough, and the rusty sand that lay about; but nothing else was to be seen, and after reaching the door leading into the great chamber where the water-wheel revolved, he turned back the light, looking like some dancing will-o'-the-wisp as he directed it here and there, greatly to the puzzlement of Piter, to whom it was something new.

He tugged at the stout leathern thong once or twice, but I held on and he ceased, contenting himself with a low uneasy whine now and then, and looking up to me with his great protruding eyes, as if for an explanation.

”Now let's have a look round upwards,” said Uncle d.i.c.k. ”I'm glad the men have left so few of their traps here. Cob, my lad, you need not hold that dog. Take the swivel off his collar and let him go. He can't get away.”

”Besides,” said Uncle Bob, ”this is to be his home.”

I stooped down and unhooked the spring swivel, to Piter's great delight, which he displayed by scuffling about our feet, trying to get himself trodden upon by all in turn, and ending by making a rush at the bull's-eye lantern, and knocking his head against the round gla.s.s.