Will of the Mill Part 6

"Yes, master," said the man, with surly readiness.

"It may be some accident," continued Mr Willows.

"Oh, I pray not, sir," said the woman. "Those two dear lads, and Mr Manners, who is always so cheerful!"

"Come then," cried Mr Willows. "What are you looking for?"

"Rope, sir," said the man, gruffly. "It may be useful--and a lantern.

We shall want it at least;" and as he spoke the words he pulled out of the chest over which he had been stooping a coil of hempen rope. He then took a little lantern from a ledge and lit it. "Now I am ready, master."

"You are an excellent fellow, Drinkwater," said the mill-owner, clapping his hand on the other's shoulder, as they stepped out.

"Nay, nay, master," said the man. "I have the bad fits on me sometimes, and bad they are."

"Bad fits?" said Mr Willows, in a puzzled way. "What do you mean?"

The man nodded.

"Yes," he said, "yes. That's what they are. I can't help them, master."

"Oh," said the mill-owner; "you must try."

The bright light from the cottage door, at which the woman stood watching them, streamed out and lit up their path for a few steps. Then they were in the pitch darkness, and in danger of completely losing their way, for it was rough broken country that lay between the little settlement and the Tor. In that district villages were few and far between, and beyond Beldale there was uncultivated land for many miles.

"They would be sure to come back this way, wouldn't they?" asked Mr Willows. "Don't you think so, James?"

"Pretty nigh certain, master," was the response, and the man held the lantern aloft and glanced round. "It's a rough enough way and no mistake, if you can call it a way; but it's the only one I knows of.

But don't you fret, sir. Master Will can take care of himself, and as for Mr Manners, he's big enough, while Master Josh is a handy one too, They are sure to be all right, sir, take my word for it."

"Yes," said Mr Willows; "but there are many dangerous places there out in the wilds, and boys are over-venturesome."

"Humph! The swamp? Ay," said the man, thoughtfully. "Yes, to be sure.

But we shall find them, never fear."

The Great Tor looked quite near at times, in the daylight, but that was merely base deception on the part of the atmosphere, for it was quite a long way, while now, at night, it was not to be seen at all. It was on the tip of John Willows' tongue several times to ask Drinkwater if he were sure, but he reflected what would be the use? For the man was plodding steadily on, and the tiny rays of his lantern fell on the rough gra.s.s and stones. Evidently he knew quite well what he was about, for there was a certainty in his movements--never any hesitation.

"Suppose," said the Vicar, "that they have gone back home another way."

"Aren't no use supposing, sir. I don't think as they have," said the man, quietly. "This 'ere's the only safe way through the bog."

"Very well," said Mr Willows, shortly. "We must just press on. I wish Mr Manners wouldn't lead our lads so far afield."

"Yet, if they followed him--" said the Vicar.

"Ah, yes, to be sure. He strikes one as being a good reliable man.

Ah!" And he gave a s.n.a.t.c.h at the Vicar's arm. "I was nearly down that time. Terribly rough."

"Terribly," was the reply. "Drinkwater!"

"Yes, sir."

"Let us keep one each side of you. It is so dark, and the lantern will help us better that way."

CHAPTER SIX.

THE ARTIST'S PLIGHT.

The two boys were at the edge of the fissure at length, and leaned over to peer down through the bracken and heather which grew on the sides of the rough descent.

"Help!" came up faintly.

"Mr Manners! where are you? It's all right. We're here."

"Thank Heaven! That you, boys? Ah! I am on a shelf down here--been here for hours--a long way down; and I have sprained something. Can you get help?"

"Well, we are here," said Will, "and I am coming down."

"So am I," said Josh.

"No, no. It is too dangerous," came up.

"Is it?" said Will. "You lie quiet, Mr Manners. We are coming.

There," he continued to Josh, "take hold of the bracken, and keep your big boots out of my face, can't you?" For he was already on his way down.

"Same size as yours," said Josh. "I say, it's precious deep! Coming, Mr Manners--coming!"

"Be careful," came faintly.

"Oh, yes; we will be careful," said Will. "Ah! I say, Josh, look out there. I slipped. It's sheer down. Oh, now I see. Hallo, Mr Manners! Come on, Josh. 'Tisn't as dark as I thought. Here we are;"

and the boy slipped the rest of the way down, to a fairly wide ledge, on which the artist lay in rather an awkward position.

"Mr Manners, are you much hurt?" asked Will, as he dropped down softly by the artist's side.

"Yes, my boy? I am rather badly. But take care. Take care, Jos.h.!.+"

"Oh, we are all right, sir. What's the matter?"

"I fell while trying to get to that peak there for a better view."

"But where does it hurt?" said Will.

"I've twisted my arm," said the artist, "and injured my ankle to boot.

That's a joke. Look here, Will; you could help me to get my arm free.

It's--it's painful; that's what it is."

"Wait a minute," said Will; and he altered his position on the ledge, s.h.i.+fting himself along so as to be nearer to where the artist lay.

"Now," he said. "Ah!"