Part 23 (1/2)
Before they got to Crediton they could distinguish, above the sound of the wheels, the thunder groaning and muttering perpetually, and as they rattled quickly past the grand old minster a few drops of rain began to fall.
The boys were coming out of the Grammar School in shoals, laughing, running, whooping, as the manner of boys is. Hawker drove slowly as he pa.s.sed through the crowd, and the lawyer took that opportunity to put on his great-coat.
”We've been lucky so far,” he said, ”and now we are going to pay for our good luck. Before it is too late, Hawker, pull up and stay here. If we have to stop all night, I'll pay expenses; I will indeed. It will be dark before we are home. Do stop.”
”Not for a thousand pound,” said Hawker. ”I wouldn't baulk myself now for a thousand pound. Hey! fancy turning her out such a night as this without sixpence in her pocket. Why, a man like you, that all the county knows, a man who has got two gold medals for bravery, ain't surely afraid of a thunderstorm?”
”I ain't afraid of the thunderstorm, but I am of the rheumatism,” said the other. ”As for a thunderstorm, you're as safe out of doors as in; some say safer. But you're mistaken if you suppose I don't fear death, Hawker. I fear it as much as any man.”
”It didn't look like it that time you soused in over the weir after the groom lad,” said Hawker.
”Bah! man,” said the lawyer; ”I'm the best swimmer in Devon. That was proved by my living at that weir in flood time. So I have less to fear than any one else. Why, if that boy hadn't been as quiet and plucky as he was, I knew I could kick him off any minute, and get ash.o.r.e. Hallo!
that's nearer.”
The storm burst on them in full fury, and soon after it grew dark. The good horse, however, stepped out gallantly, though they made but little way; for, having left the high road and taken to the narrow lanes, their course was always either up hill or down, and every bottom they pa.s.sed grew more angry with the flooding waters as they proceeded.
Still, through darkness, rain, and storm, they held their way till they saw the lights of Drumston below them.
”How far is it to your house, Hawker?” said the lawyer. ”This storm seems to hang about still. It is as bad as ever. You must be very wet.”
”It's three miles to my place, but a level road, at least all up-hill, gently rising. Cheer up! We won't be long.”
They pa.s.sed through the village rapidly, lighted by the lightning. The last three miles were done as quickly as any part of the journey, and the lawyer rejoiced to find himself before the white gate that led up to Hawker's house.
It was not long before they drew up to the door. The storm seemed worse than ever. There was a light in the kitchen, and when Hawker had halloed once or twice, a young man ran out to take the horse.
”Is that you, my boy?” said Hawker. ”Rub the horse down, and come in to get something. This ain't a night fit for a dog to be out in; is it?”
”No, indeed, sir,” said the man. ”I hope none's out in it but what likes to be.”
They went in. Madge looked up from arranging the table for supper, and stared at Hawker keenly. He laughed aloud, and said,--
”So you didn't expect me to-night, deary, eh?”
”You've chose a bad night to come home in, old man,” she answered.
”A terrible night, ain't it? Wouldn't she have been anxious if she'd a'
known I'd been out?”
”Don't know as I should,” she said. ”That gentleman had better get dried, and have his supper.”
”I've got a bit of business first, deary. Where's the girl?”
”In the other kitchen.”
”Call her.--Lord! listen to that.”
A crash of thunder shook the house, heard loud above the rain, which beat furiously against the windows. Madge immediately returned with the servant girl, a modest, quiet-looking creature, evidently in terror at the storm.