Part 15 (1/2)

There was something creepy and yet thoroughly attractive in the business. The place looked dark and romantic in the gloom; there was a spice of danger in the work, and the excitement made my blood seem to dance in my veins.

”Hallo!” I cried, as we were entering the door; ”there's something wrong,” for I heard a rustling noise and a dull thud as if someone had jumped down from a little height.

At the same moment we found out how useful Piter was going to be, for he started off with a furious rush, barking tremendously, and as we followed him to the end of the yard we were in time for a scuffle, a savage burst of expressions, and then my heart, which had been throbbing furiously, seemed to stand still, for there was a howl, a tremendous splash, then silence.

”Quick, boys!” cried Uncle Jack. ”Here, join hands. I'll go in and fetch him out. Take the light, Cob.”

I gladly seized the lantern and made the light play on the surface of the water where it was disturbed, and as I did so Piter came up from the edge whining softly and twitching his little stump of a tail.

Then a head and shoulders appeared, and the surface of the dam was beaten tremendously, but so close to the edge that by standing on the stonework and holding by Uncle Bob's hand Uncle Jack was able to stretch out his stick to the struggling man, to have it clutched directly, and the fellow was drawn ash.o.r.e.

He gave himself a shake like a dog as soon as he was on dry land, and stood for a moment or two growling and using ugly language that seemed to agree with his mouth.

Then he turned upon us.

”Aw right!” he said, ”I'll pay thee for this. Set the dawg on me, you did, and then pitched me into the watter. Aw reight! I'll pay thee for this.”

”Open the gate, Bob,” said Uncle Jack, who now took the fellow by the collar and thrust him forward while I held the light as the man went on threatening and telling us what he meant to do.

But the cold water had pretty well quenched his fierce anger, and though he threatened a great deal he did not attempt to do anything till he was by the gate, where a buzz of voices outside seemed to inspirit him.

”Hey, lads!” he cried, ”in wi' you when gate's opened.”

”Take care,” whispered Uncle d.i.c.k. ”Be ready to bang the gate. We must have him out. Here, Piter.”

The dog answered with a bark, and then our invader being held ready the gate was opened by me, and the three brothers thrust the prisoner they were going to set at liberty half-way out.

Only half-way, for he was driven back by a rush of his companions, who had been aroused by his shouting.

The stronger outside party would have prevailed no doubt had not our four-footed companion made a savage charge among the rough legs, with such effect that there was a series of yells from the front men, who became at once on our side to the extent of driving their friends back; and before they could recover from the surprise consequent upon the dog's a.s.sault, the gate was banged to and locked.

”Show the light, and see where that fellow came over the wall, Cob,”

whispered Uncle d.i.c.k; and I made the light play along the top, expecting to see a head every moment. But instead of a head a pair of hands appeared over the coping-stones--a pair of great black hands, whose nails showed thick and stubby in the lantern light.

”There, take that,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, giving the hands a quick tap with his stick. ”I don't want to hurt you, though I could.”

By that he meant do serious injury, for he certainly hurt the owner of the hands to the extent of giving pain, for there was a savage yell and the hands disappeared.

Then there was a loud scuffling noise and a fresh pair of hands appeared, but they shared the fate of the others and went out of sight.

”Nice place this,” said Uncle Bob suddenly. ”Didn't take return tickets, did you?”

”Return tickets! No,” said Uncle Jack in a low angry voice. ”What!

Are you tired of it already?”

”Tired! Well, I don't know, but certainly this is more lively than Canonbury. There's something cheerful about the place. Put up your umbrellas, it hails.”

I was nervous and excited, but I could not help laughing at this, for Uncle Bob's ideas of hailstones were peculiar. The first that fell was a paving-stone as big as a half-quartern loaf, and it was followed by quite a shower of the round cobbles or pebbles nearly the size of a fist that are used so much in some country places for paths.

Fortunately no one was. .h.i.t, while this bombardment was succeeded by another a.s.sault or attempt to carry the place by what soldiers call a _coup de main_.