Will of the Mill Part 21

"Right!" was the reply; and that night, prompt to their time, Josh, who had called at the cottage on his way down, presented himself at the Mill House garden-gate with Manners, both properly equipped for their slippery task, and finding Will awaiting their arrival.

"Come on," he cried; "I thought you didn't mean to come. I hate waiting in the dark."

He led the way through the garden to the lower gate by the mill-yard, and then right along under the buildings to the huge shed built up over the wheel, which was turning rapidly to the hollow roar of the water descending the chute to pa.s.s into the many receptacles at the end of the great spokes, before falling with echoing splashes into the square, stone-built basin below.

It was close to the exit here that a portion of the great shed had been devoted to the purpose of an eel-trap, which was most effective in warm, rainy times when the flooded waters were full of washed-out worms such as the fat eels loved, but for which they often had to pay very dear, for it came to pa.s.s that they were often carried by the swift waters into the great stone chute. Then, in all probability, their fate was sealed, for they would be borne along to the end, writhing and struggling in vain, only to be carried right over the turning wheel before falling into the great, square, stone opening below, where another rus.h.i.+ng chute carried them onward into a stout, iron-barred cage whose bottom and sides were so closely set that only the very small could wriggle through. The larger collected in a writhing cl.u.s.ter just where an iron, cage-like door could be opened, and a basket held to receive the spoil.

But this particular night, in spite of its promise, showed no performance. The little party, lantern bearing, descended a flight of steps, hardly able to make each other hear, so great was the echoing splash going on around, and stopped at the bottom in a dank, dripping, stone chamber, close to the floor of the iron cage.

"How are you going to cook 'em, Mr Manners?" said Will, with his lips close to his companion's ear.

"Some stewed, some spitchc.o.c.ked, and the rest in a pie."

"Then we're not coming to dine," cried Will, laughing, as he threw the light of the lantern upon the cage, where there was a wet gleam as something slowly glided round.

"Oh, what a shame!" cried Josh. "Why, there's only one!"

"Yes, only one," said Will, "and it isn't worth while to open this nasty, wet, slimy door for him."

"Oh, but there'll be some more," cried Josh; "there's plenty of time.

In about an hour there'll be as many as we can carry."

"But we are not going to wait in this dreary hole," said Manners. "I don't enjoy eels when I've got a cold."

"Oh, no," cried Will; "we will go and have a bit of a walk, and come down again."

They drew back from the eel-trap, Will leading the way, and made for a door in the huge shed, where the lantern was carefully extinguished and put on a ledge, before they stepped out into the dark night, the closing of the door behind them shutting in a good deal of the hollow roar, with its whispering echoes. That which they listened to now was more splash, rush and hurry, as the wheel turned at greater than its usual speed, and the overladen dam relieved itself of its contents.

Still there was too much noise for easy converse, and they tramped on, Will with the intention of climbing to one of the narrow paths that led in the direction of the upper stream.

They were just on a level with the top of the stone dam, when Will stopped short. The spot he had chosen for his halt was dark as pitch, for a clump of bushes overhung the way.

"What's the matter?" said Josh, who came next.

"Be quiet," replied Will.

"Anything wrong?" asked the artist, for they blocked his way.

"N-no," replied Will, dubiously; "only thought I heard something."

"Thought you heard something!" said Manners. "There's not much think about it. My ears seem stuffed so full of sounds that I can hardly hear myself speak. The rus.h.i.+ng water and its echoes from up above seem to fill the air. What did you think you heard?"

"That's what I don't know," said Will, thoughtfully, with his lips close to the speaker's ear; "and I can't hear it at all now. It was a dull, thumping sort of noise."

"Echo," said Josh. "The wheel's going so much faster round than usual."

"N-n-no," said Will; "it wasn't like that. I wish I could hear it again."

"What for?" said Josh. "What was the matter? Here, I say, which way shall we go? I know: let's go and see if any of the old owls are out beating the ivy for birds."

"There," cried Will, "that's it! You can hear it now! Listen!"

All stood perfectly still for a few moments.

"Water, water everywhere, and far too much to drink," said Manners, spoiling a quotation. "I can't hear anything else."

"Oh, Mr Manners! Why, there it is, quite plain. You can hear it, can't you, Josh?"

"Thumpety, thumpety, thump, thump, thump!" said Josh. "Sounds like somebody beating a bit of carpet indoors. Why, it's only echoes."

"Pooh! What could make echoes like that?"

"The great axle of the wheel worked a little loose in its bearings through the weight of the water."

"Nonsense! Can't be that."

"All right! What is it, then?"

"Don't know, don't care. It's a nocturnal noise, isn't it, Mr Manners?"

"Well, it's a noise," said the artist, "as if someone was hammering with a wooden mallet. I heard it quite plainly just now, and it seemed to come from below there, out of the darkness down at the bottom of the dam."

"Oh, no," cried Josh, "it was from right up yonder, ever so high."

"No, no," said Will; "it seemed to me to come from just opposite where we are standing now."

"Echo," said the artist, laconically.

"Yes," said Will; "carried here and there by the wind."

"Well," said the artist, "the water makes roaring noise enough, without our listening for echoes. Let's go a bit higher where we can see the sky. It's horribly dark down here, but the stars are very bright if we get out of the shadows. What's the matter?" he said sharply, for Will caught his arm.

"There it is again," cried the boy. "Somebody must be hammering and thumping. What can it be?"

"It's what I said," said Josh; "the bearings of the big wheel are a bit loose. Who could be hammering and thumping in the darkness? Wouldn't he have a light?"

"I don't know," said Will; "but if something's got loose, it ought to be seen to."

"But you couldn't do anything in the dark," said Josh. "My word, what a game it would be if the old wheel broke away! What would happen then?"

"Once started, I should say it would go spinning down the valley for miles," said Manners, laughingly. "Just like a Brobdingnagian boy's hoop gone mad."

"Ah, I should like to see that by daylight," cried Josh.

"I shouldn't," said Will, bitterly. "It wouldn't be much fun. There!

now, can you hear it? That thumping?"

"Yes, I heard it then," said Manners, "and I don't think that there's any doubt of its being the echo of something giving a thump as the wheel turns. Is it worth while to go and tell old Jack-of-all-trades Drinkwater to come and see if anything's wrong?"