Patience Wins Part 39

I tried, but unless I had wanted to draw people's attention to the fact that I had something there of great interest, I could not go.

Even at leaving time it was as bad, and I found myself in the position that I must either tell one of my uncles what I had done, or leave the trap to take its chance.

I chose the latter plan, and calling myself weak coward, went home, arguing to myself that no one would go in the spot where I had placed the trap, but some miscreant, and that it would serve him right.

To my utter astonishment, directly after tea Uncle d.i.c.k turned to me.

"Cob," he said; "we have a special letter to send to Canonbury to your father, and a more particular one to bring back in answer, so we have decided that you shall take it up. You can have three or four days'

holiday, and it will be a pleasant change. Your mother and father will be delighted to see you, and, of course, you will be glad to see them."

"But when should I have to go?" I said.

"To-night by the last train. Quarter to eleven--You'll get to London about three in the morning. They expect one of us, so you will find them up."

"But--"

"Don't you want to go?" said Uncle Jack severely.

"Yes," I said; "but--"

"But me no buts, as the man said in the old play. There, get ready, boy, and come back to us as soon as you can. Don't make the worst of our troubles here, Cob."

"No, no," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "because we are getting on famously as soon as we can manage the men."

"And that we are going to do," said Uncle Bob. "I say I wish I were coming with you."

"Do, then," I cried.

"Get out, you young tempter! No," said Uncle Bob. "Go and take your pleasure, and have pity upon the three poor fellows who are toiling here."

I was obliged to go, of course, but I must tell them about the trap first.

Tell _them_! No, I could not tell Uncle d.i.c.k or Uncle Jack. I was afraid that they would be angry with me, so I resolved to speak to Uncle Bob before I went--to take him fully into my confidence, and ask him to move the trap and put it safely away.

It is so easy to make plans--so hard to carry them out.

All through that evening I could not once get a chance to speak to Uncle Bob alone; and time went so fast that we were on our way to the station, and still I had not spoken. There was only the chance left--on the platform.

"Don't look so solid about it, Cob," said Uncle Jack. "They'll be delighted to see you, boy, and it will be a pleasant trip. But we want you back."

"I should think we do," said Uncle d.i.c.k, laying his great hand on my shoulder and giving me an affectionate grip.

"Yes, we couldn't get on without our first lieutenant, Philosopher Cob,"

said Uncle Bob.

I tried to look bright and cheerful; but that trap had not got me by the leg--it seemed to be round my neck and to choke me from speaking.

What was I to do? I could not get a chance. I dare not go away and leave that trap there without speaking, and already there was the distant rumble of the coming train. In a few minutes I should be on my way to London; and at last in despair I got close to Uncle Bob to speak, but in vain--I was put off.

In came the train, drawing up to the side of the platform, and Uncle Bob ran off to find a comfortable compartment for me, looking after me as kindly as if I had been a woman.

"Oh," I thought, "if he would but have stayed!"

"Good-bye, my lad!" said Uncle d.i.c.k. "Take care of yourself, Cob, and of the packet," whispered Uncle Jack.

I was about to slap my breast and say, "All right here!" but he caught my hand and held it down.

"Don't," he said in a low half-angry voice. "Discretion, boy. If you have something valuable about you, don't show people where it is."

I saw the wisdom of the rebuke and shook hands. "I'll try and be wiser," I whispered; "trust me." He nodded, and this made me forget the trap for the moment. But Uncle Bob grasped my hand and brought it back.

"Stand away, please," shouted the guard; but Uncle Bob held on by my hand as the train moved.

"Take care of yourself, lad. Call a cab the moment you reach the platform if your father is not there."

"Yes," I said, reaching over a fellow-pa.s.senger to speak. "Uncle Bob,"

I added quickly, "big trap in the corner of the yard; take it up at once--to-night."

"Yes, yes," he said as he ran along the platform. "I'll see to it.

Good-bye!"

We were off and he was waving his hand to me, and I saw him for a few moments, and then all was indistinct beneath the station lamps, and we were gliding on, with the glare and smoke and glow of the busy town lighting up the sky.

It had all come to me so suddenly that I could hardly believe I was speeding away back to London; but once more comfortable in my mind with the promise that Uncle Bob had made to take up the trap, I sat back in the comfortable corner seat thinking of seeing my father and mother again, and of what a series of adventures I should have to relate.

Then I had a look round at my fellow-pa.s.sengers, of whom there were three--a stout old gentleman and a young lady who seemed to be his daughter, and a dark-eyed keen-looking man who was seated opposite to me, and who held a newspaper in his hand and had a couple of books with him.

"I'd offer to lend you one," he said, touching his books and smiling; "but you couldn't read--I can't. Horrible lights."

Just then a heavy snore from the old gentleman made the young lady lean over to him and touch him, waking him up with a start.

The keen-looking man opposite to me raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly, shading his face from the other occupants with his newspaper.

Three or four times over the old gentleman dropped asleep and had to be roused up, and my fellow-pa.s.senger smiled good-humouredly and said:

"Might as well have let him sleep."

This was in a whisper, and he made two or three remarks to me.

He seemed very much disposed to be friendly and pointed out the lights of a distant town or two.

"Got in at Arrowfield, didn't you?" he said at last.

I replied that I did; and it was on the tip of my tongue to say, "So did you," but I did not.

"I'm going on to London," he said. "Nasty time to get in--three in the morning. I hate it. No one about. Night cabs and milk carts, police and market wagons. People at the hotel always sleepy. Ah! Here we are at Westernbow."

For the train was stopping, and when it did draw up at the platform the old gentleman was roused up by the young lady, and they got out and left us alone.