Part 51 (1/2)
”Then look here, Mester, I will speak if I nivver do again. No, I wouldn't give up if I was you, not if they did a hundred worse things than they've done yet. Theer!”
Uncle Jack looked down on the man, and then said quickly:
”And you, what will you do?”
”Get to wuck again, Mester, as soon as I can.”
”And the men who beat you like that?”
”Eh, what about 'em?”
”Shall you try and punish them?”
”Punish 'em, Mester! Why, how can I? They punished me.”
”But you will turn upon them for this, Pannell, will you not?”
”Nay, Mester; I went again 'em, and they k.n.o.b-sticked me for it, and it's all done and over. I shall soon be back at my st.i.thy, if you'll hev me again.”
”Have you! Yes, my man, of course,” said Uncle Jack. ”I wish we could have more like you.”
”Cob,” said Uncle Jack as we strode on and got well out into the country, ”we've got a very strong confederation to fight, and I do not feel at all hopeful of succeeding; but, there: we've put our hands to the plough, and we can't look back. Now never mind business, let's listen to the birds and enjoy the fresh country air for a time.”
We were going up the valley, pa.s.sing every now and then ”a wheel” as it was called, that is a water-wheel, turning a number of grindstones, the places being remarkably like ours, only that as we got farther out the people who ground and forged did their work under the shade of trees, while the birds piped their songs, and air and water were wonderfully different from what they were about our place on the edge of the great town.
”Let's get back, Cob,” said Uncle Jack despondently. ”It makes me miserable to hear the birds, and see the beauty of the hills and vales, and the sparkling water, and know that men toiling together in towns can be such ruffians and so full of cruelty to their fellow creatures.”
”And so strong and true and brave and ready to help one another.”
”As who are, Cob?” said my uncle.
”Well, for want of thinking of anyone else just now,” I said, ”there's poor Pannell; he saved me, and he has just shown us that he is too faithful to his fellow-workmen to betray them.”
Uncle Jack laid his hand upon my shoulder and gave it a hearty grip.
”You're right, my lad,” he said. ”You're the better philosopher after all. There's good and bad, and like so many more I think of the bad and overlook the good. But all the same, Cob, I'm very uneasy. These men have a spiteful feeling against you, and we shall not be doing right if we trust you out of our sight again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
WHAT I CAUGHT AND HEARD.
”I should say you will very likely have some sport,” said Uncle d.i.c.k.
”Try by all means.”
”I hardly like to, uncle,” I said.
”Nonsense, my lad! All work and no play makes Jack--I mean Jacob--a dull boy.”
”But it will seem as if I am neglecting my work.”