Part 37 (1/2)
He looked at me with his face working, and sc.r.a.ping a hole in the ashes he buried the trap, seized hammer and pincers, and worked away again, but stopped every now and then to laugh.
”I say,” he said suddenly, ”it'll sarve 'em right; but if they knowed as I did it they'd wait for me coming home and give me the k.n.o.bsticks. Ay, that they would.”
”But they will not know, Pannell,” I said. ”It's our secret, mind.”
”Hey, but I'd like to see the rat i' the trap!” he whispered, after exploding with another fit of mirth.
”Let's have the trap first,” I said. ”I don't know that I shall catch him then.”
”What are you going to bait with?” he said between two fierce attacks upon a piece of steel.
”Oh, I have not settled that yet!”
”I'll tell 'ee,” he whispered with his face working. ”Bait it with a wheel-band.”
He roared with laughter again, and if I had had any doubts before of his understanding that I wanted a very strong man-trap, I had none now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
SOMETHING FOR ME.
Rash--cruel--unwise. Well, I'm afraid it was all those, but I was only a boy, and I was stung by the injustice and cowardly cruelty of the outrages perpetrated on us by the men who earned their bread in our works; and hence it was, that, instead of feeling any compunction in doing what I proposed, I was delighted with the idea, and longed for an opportunity to put it in force.
I was, then, very eager to begin, for the present calm, I felt sure, was only going before the storm, and after what I had found out I was anxious to be ready.
Pannell did not keep me waiting long.
Two days after I had made my plans with him I went into his smithy, and in answer to my inquiring look he said, in a heavy, unmoved way:
”Theer's summut for you hung up i' the forge chimney. She goes hard, but theer's a steel bar 'long wi' her as you can prise down the spring till she's set. On'y mind thysen, lad--mind thysen.”
”And will it hold a man, Pannell?” I cried.
”Ay; this here's noo pattern. I haven't got into it yet I've got a rare lot of 'em to do.”
”But tell me,” I whispered, ”will it?”
”Think this here noo steel's better than owd fas.h.i.+on stoof?” he said.
”Bother the steel!” I said, speaking lower still. ”I want you to tell me whether--”
”Bull-p.o.o.p's gettin' too fat, Mester Jacob,” said Pannell. ”Don't give 'im so much meat. Spoils a dorg. Give un bones as he can break oop and yeat. That's the stoof for dorgs. Gives un such a coat as never was.”
”Will you tell me?” I began, angrily.
”Nay, I wean't tell thee nowt,” he growled. ”I've telled thee enew as it is. Tek it when I'm not here, and good luck to thee!”
I could get no more from him, for he would not say another word about the trap, so I waited impatiently for the night so that I might smuggle it from the forge chimney into my desk.