Part 39 (1/2)

I tried, but unless I had wanted to draw people's attention to the fact that I had something there of great interest, I could not go.

Even at leaving time it was as bad, and I found myself in the position that I must either tell one of my uncles what I had done, or leave the trap to take its chance.

I chose the latter plan, and calling myself weak coward, went home, arguing to myself that no one would go in the spot where I had placed the trap, but some miscreant, and that it would serve him right.

To my utter astonishment, directly after tea Uncle d.i.c.k turned to me.

”Cob,” he said; ”we have a special letter to send to Canonbury to your father, and a more particular one to bring back in answer, so we have decided that you shall take it up. You can have three or four days'

holiday, and it will be a pleasant change. Your mother and father will be delighted to see you, and, of course, you will be glad to see them.”

”But when should I have to go?” I said.

”To-night by the last train. Quarter to eleven--You'll get to London about three in the morning. They expect one of us, so you will find them up.”

”But--”

”Don't you want to go?” said Uncle Jack severely.

”Yes,” I said; ”but--”

”But me no buts, as the man said in the old play. There, get ready, boy, and come back to us as soon as you can. Don't make the worst of our troubles here, Cob.”

”No, no,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, ”because we are getting on famously as soon as we can manage the men.”

”And that we are going to do,” said Uncle Bob. ”I say I wish I were coming with you.”

”Do, then,” I cried.

”Get out, you young tempter! No,” said Uncle Bob. ”Go and take your pleasure, and have pity upon the three poor fellows who are toiling here.”

I was obliged to go, of course, but I must tell them about the trap first.

Tell _them_! No, I could not tell Uncle d.i.c.k or Uncle Jack. I was afraid that they would be angry with me, so I resolved to speak to Uncle Bob before I went--to take him fully into my confidence, and ask him to move the trap and put it safely away.

It is so easy to make plans--so hard to carry them out.

All through that evening I could not once get a chance to speak to Uncle Bob alone; and time went so fast that we were on our way to the station, and still I had not spoken. There was only the chance left--on the platform.

”Don't look so solid about it, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. ”They'll be delighted to see you, boy, and it will be a pleasant trip. But we want you back.”

”I should think we do,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, laying his great hand on my shoulder and giving me an affectionate grip.

”Yes, we couldn't get on without our first lieutenant, Philosopher Cob,”

said Uncle Bob.

I tried to look bright and cheerful; but that trap had not got me by the leg--it seemed to be round my neck and to choke me from speaking.

What was I to do? I could not get a chance. I dare not go away and leave that trap there without speaking, and already there was the distant rumble of the coming train. In a few minutes I should be on my way to London; and at last in despair I got close to Uncle Bob to speak, but in vain--I was put off.

In came the train, drawing up to the side of the platform, and Uncle Bob ran off to find a comfortable compartment for me, looking after me as kindly as if I had been a woman.