Part 90 (1/2)
”There is, I tell you,” cried Fred, with his voice trembling from excitement. ”Scar and I found it one day, and traced it right to the edge of the lake.”
”Not gammoning me, are you, sir?”
”No, no, Samson.”
”You didn't dream all this?”
”No, I tell you. We found it by accident, and when we were looking for the end we found that hole where that fallen tree had broken a way into the pa.s.sage. We piled up all those branches to hide the place.”
”Well, you stun me, Master Fred. And you think our Nat heard 'em there, and has gone to jine 'em?”
”He found them, or they found him. Hist!”
Fred crept close to the heap of dead wood, a portion of which, sufficient for a man to creep through, had been removed, and pressing as far in as he could, he made a trumpet of his hands and cried softly--
”Any one there?”
Samson had followed close to him, and he listened to his master's voice as it seemed to go in a hollow whisper echoing along under the earth.
”Well, it do stun me,” he said, taking off his morion for a fresh scratch.
”Is any one there?” cried Fred again, as loudly as he dared; and there was no response. ”Scar! Nat! Sir G.o.dfrey!” he cried again; and after pausing to listen each time for a reply which did not come, he turned at last to encounter Samson's dubious face.
”Hope you're right, sir!” he said.
”Yes, man, certain. You see? You can hear?”
”Yes, sir, I can hear; and I suppose there's a sort of drain there.”
”Drain, man? I tell you it's a secret pa.s.sage.”
”Maybe, sir; but that don't prove they are hiding in it.”
”But they must be,” cried Fred, excitedly. ”Scar knew of it. They were cut off by the fire. They took refuge there, and I am sure they are hiding now; and, thank Heaven, safe.”
”Well, sir, they're all mortal enemies, but I'm so glad to hear it that I say _Amen_ with all my heart; but is it true?”
”Oh, yes, I am sure; it's true enough!” cried Fred, with his eyes full of the joy he felt. ”Samson, I don't know how to contain myself--how to be thankful enough! Poor old Scar! I should never have felt happy again.”
Samson's iron pot-like cap was tilted off again, and he scratched his head on the other side as he looked at Fred with a quaint smile upon his countenance.
”Well, sir, all this here puzzles me. It do--it do really. These here are our enemies, and we've been taught to smite 'em hip and thigh; and because we find they're living, instead of dead, here's you ready to jump out of your skin, and me feeling as if I could shake hands with old Nat. Of course I wouldn't; you see, I couldn't do it. Indeed, if he was here I should hit him, but I feel as if I should shake hands all the same.”
”What will be best to do, Samson?”
”Do, sir? If you're right, get off as soon as we can.”
”And them wanting our help.”
”Tchah! They don't want our help. They want us to be out of their way.