Part 91 (1/2)

”Shall I bait the trap, then, sir?” said Samson.

”Yes, of course.”

”Ah,” said Samson, placing the cake in a fork of one of the dead branches right in the hole, ”you often laugh at me, sir, for bringing a bit o' food with me, but now you see the good of it. There!”

He drew back to look admiringly at his work.

”That'll catch him, sir,” he said.

”Yes, they'll see that,” cried Fred, eagerly. ”Now let's get back to the lake, and fish for an hour.”

”But we aren't got no lines, sir.”

”Never mind; we must pretend, in case we are watched. Come along quickly.”

Fred spoke in a low excited whisper, just as if he had helped in the setting of a gin for some wild creature; and as he hurried Samson back toward the lake he turned once, full of exultation, and shook his follower warmly by the hand.

”What's that there for?” said Samson, feigning ignorance, but with his eyes sparkling and his face bright with satisfaction.

”Because I feel so happy,” cried Fred. ”It's a long time since I have felt so satisfied as I do now.”

”Ah, I gets puzzleder and puzzleder,” said Samson, grimly, ”more than ever I was. I never knowd why we all began fighting, and you don't make it a bit clearer, Master Fred. I believe you're a reg'lar sham, sir, pretendin' that Master Scar's your enemy, and all the time you seem as if you'd go through fire and water to help him. Why, we shall be having your father and Sir G.o.dfrey shaking hands and dining together just as they did in the old times.”

”And you and Nat quarrelling good-temperedly again as to which is the best cider, that at the Manor or theirs at the Hall.”

”No, Master Fred; that's going a little too far, sir. Eh? What say?”

”Look here; I'll show you where the proper entrance to the pa.s.sage is.

That hole, as I told you, was only broken through.”

Fred turned off a little, and made his way down to the edge of the lake by the rocky bank where the birches drooped down till their delicate leaves nearly dipped in the water; and as they hung over, after a careful look round, Fred pointed out the opening.

”What! that little bit of a hole, sir?”

”That's where Scarlett kicked out a stone or two. The whole of the rest of the arch is built up.”

”Well, sir, I s'pose it's true, as you tell me it is,” said Samson, thoughtfully; ”but if anybody had told me all this without showing me the place, I should have said, 'Thank ye; now see if you can tell a bigger story.'”

”You know now it's true,” said Fred, thoughtfully. ”And look here,” he continued, after he had related in full how he and Scarlett discovered the place, ”let's go up to the Hall, and see if there is any sign of the opening there. Think the ruins will be cool?”

”No, sir, nor yet for another week. Why, some of the men was roasting meat in the hot embers, and cooking bread there this morning.”

”Never mind. I had not the heart to go there when I woke. I am eager to see everything now, and I tremble for fear that the way may have been laid open. Come along.”

Samson followed, nothing loth, the rods and basket being forgotten, and they made their way round by the edge of the lake on the side nearest to the Hall, Fred having hard work to keep from gazing back at the patch of the old forest which concealed the pa.s.sage where he felt certain now his friends--he mentally corrected himself--his enemies, must lie.

A sad feeling came over the lad, though, once more, as he led the way through the hazel wood, where Sir G.o.dfrey had had endless paths cut, every one of which was carpeted with moss; for there were the marks of hoofs, hazel stubs had been wantonly cut down, and the nearer they drew to the ruined Hall, the more frequent were the traces of destruction, while, when at last they came from the shrubbery and stood in full view of the place, the picture of desolation was so painful that Fred stood still, and his eyes felt dim.

”Poor Lady Markham! poor little Lil!” he said in a low voice. ”What will they say?”