Will of the Mill Part 22

"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.

"I don't know," said Will. "He might have got a good grip of you.

Those big ones can bite like fun. Are you very wet?"

"Bah! Abominable mess. This floor's covered with slime."

"Shall we stop any longer?"

"No," said the artist; "I've had enough for once. Let's get out in the open air again, and try and find out what made your noise."

In a few minutes they were back on the top of the great stone wall that held the waters back, listening in the darkness amidst the rush and roar of sluices and chute, supplemented by the distant thunder of the heavy falls high up the stream, for the peculiar thumping whose repet.i.tions had caught Will's ears.

But they listened in vain, and continued their way to Drinkwater's cottage, where the basket with its living freight was placed, spite of the artist's protests, in his landlady's hands.

"Well, I suppose I must keep them," said Manners, "and I will, for this is about the finish up of our games, lads, for this year."

He spoke unconsciously. It was; for as soon as the trio had pa.s.sed from the dam on their way to the first zig-zag, from out of the darkness at one end of the dam the strange, weird noise began again. It was as if heavy blows were being given upon some great iron tool. Now and then they would cease, but only to go on again for quite two hours, till all at once a fresh sound arose--a peculiar, whispering gurgle, which gradually gathered force, to go on increasing through the night; but not another blow was heard to fall.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

DANGER.

Will returned to the Mill House that night rather later than he should have been, after a long chat with the artist, and the first thing he learned was that his father had gone to bed with a bad headache.

It was his own time, too, and he hurried up to his bedroom, when, like a flash, came the recollection of the strange sounds he had heard. It was too late to go out again, so he opened the window and leaned there, listening; but from that position he could hear the roar of many waters--nothing more.

As a rule, Will's habit was to bang his head down on the pillow and draw one very deep, long, restful breath, as he stretched himself at full length, and the next moment he was asleep.

Somehow, on this particular night, when he went through his customary movements, the result was that he was more wide-awake than ever. Then for quite two hours he twisted, turned, stretched himself, yawned, got out of bed and drank cold water, bathed his face, walked up and down, tried to count a hundred forwards, then backwards, counting sheep going through a gap, did everything he could think of, and even thought of standing upon his head to see if that would do any good; but sleep would not come.

"Am I going to be ill?" he asked himself, and while he was waiting for the answer he dropped off soundly.

But for no pleasant rest, for it was into nightmare-like dreams of some great trouble. While he was trying to sleep, all recollection of the mysterious sounds was in abeyance; but they attacked him again in his dreams, with this peculiarity, that he seemed to know now exactly where they were. He was able to locate them precisely. There they were-- hammer, hammer, hammer, throb, throb, throb, till it was almost maddening.

He tried to escape from them; he longed to get away; but there they were in the deep darkness, hemmed in by the deep booming chorus of the falling waters--the only part of his dreams that was real.

For during the whole night, through the sluices, along the chute, and over the wheel, the waters continued their course, keeping down the overburdened pool to the same level, for once more heavy rains in the hills rushed along the stream to augment the supply.

It was with a feeling of intense relief that the boy woke at last in the faint dawn of morning, sprang from the bed, and rushed to the open window again, to thrust his burning brow out into the cool, fresh air.

The beating in his brain was gone, his mind was clear, and he strained out to try whether he could hear through the roar of falling waters the hammering that had tormented him all through the night.

"No," he said, "it's impossible to hear it from this window;" and he hurriedly dressed, to make his way out and up to the spot where he had stood with his friends.

"Nothing now," he said. "Could it have been fancy?"

He listened for a few minutes longer, and then mounted the rough steps, to stand on the top of the great stone wall to listen from there once more, before gazing up the valley and noticing that there were two little cl.u.s.ters of wild-ducks busily feeding just at the mouth of the stream where it entered the pool. There was a faint glow in the east, and flecks of gold high towards the zenith, promises of a glorious day, and he turned slowly, hesitating as to whether he should go back to bed.

"No! Rubbis.h.!.+" he said. "I'll go and rouse up old Josh. Yes, and wake up Mr Manners, too. He'd like to see this glorious sky--ah! what's that?"