Part 22 (1/2)

”No,” said Josh. ”I don't believe he'd come.”

”Perhaps it's nothing to mind,” said Will, thoughtfully; ”only, working machinery is such a ticklish thing. There, I can't hear it now.”

They stood listening for quite ten minutes, but the unusual sound was not renewed.

”Perhaps it's somebody in the mill,” said Will. ”Let's go down and look.”

”All right; anything to fill up time,” said Manners, ”before we get my eels. There's no occasion to go up here.”

They descended cautiously through the darkness to the mill-yard, following Will, who made straight for the door leading into the machine-room, the fastening yielding to his hand, for few precautions were used in the shape of bar or bolt in that quiet, retired place; and, as the door swung back, the three stood gazing into the darkness before them, listening and feeling. The whole building seemed to thrill with the vibration caused by the turning wheel, the weight of the water making the entire building quiver as if it were alive.

”Rather weird,” said Manners. ”I never was here before at such a time.

Does the place always throb in this way?”

”When the wheel is going fast,” replied Will, ”it gently shakes the biggest beams.”

”Sounds as if it might shake the place down in time.”

”Oh, no,” said Will; ”it's too solid for that.”

”Well,” said Josh, ”there's n.o.body doing anything here. If there was, there'd be a light. It was only echoes. Come along.”

”But if it was echoes,” said Will, ”why did they leave off?”

”Not so much water coming down perhaps,” suggested Manners. ”There, isn't it nearly time to go and see if there are any more eels?”

”Hardly,” replied Will, ”but some might have come down. It's just as it happens.”

”Oh, yes,” said Josh. ”Sometimes there won't be one in a whole night, and another time there'll be pounds and pounds in half an hour. It all depends upon whether they are on the move.”

They made for the lower door again at the bottom of the cage shed, and entered the hollow, dismal place. Will felt for the lantern after closing the door, struck a match, and, to the artist's satisfaction, the rays fell upon several slimy, gleaming objects beyond the bars; and after a good deal of splas.h.i.+ng, writhing, and twining themselves in knots, the prisoners were secured in a dripping basket that had been held beneath the opening formed by drawing back the little grating.

”Capital!” cried Manners, eagerly. ”Why, there must be half a dozen pounds.”

”Nearer a dozen,” said Will. ”Look out, Jos.h.!.+ Hit that chap over the head, or he'll be out.”

Josh struck at the basket-lid, but a big, serpent-like creature had half forced its way through, to be down on the wet stone floor the next moment, making at once for the water a couple of yards away.

”Stop him, Mr Manners! It's the biggest one. I can't leave the basket.”

”And I can't leave the light,” said Josh; but, as they spoke, the artist was in full pursuit, seeing as he did that a delicious morsel was going to save itself from being turned into human food.

There was a quick trampling faintly heard on the wet stone floor, followed by a rush, a glide, a heavy b.u.mp, and a roar of smothered laughter.

”Yes, it's all very fine, young fellows,” growled the artist, as he gathered himself up; ”a nasty, slimy beast! I tried to stop him with my foot, and it was like the first step made in a skate. Has it gone?”

”Gone? Yes,” cried Josh. ”Never mind; there are plenty left. They're awful things to hold. He would have got away all the same.”

”Not if I'd had a good grip,” said Manners.