Read Ebook: Tarnished Silver by Outram Mary Frances Wood Stanley L Illustrator

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Ebook has 938 lines and 50868 words, and 19 pages

"We'll have to make a little house for it, Robin," answered his mother. "I'm afraid it will feel rather strange at first, poor creature, in its unaccustomed quarters."

"I wonder what he's got," soliloquized Julius. "I expect it's a puppy or a kitten, or some idiotic thing like that. What's the use of making such a fuss about it, when they're as common as blackberries."

But to Robin the little, warm, furry bundle he held so closely to his breast meant a treasure precious beyond words, the possession of which had suddenly turned his prospects rose-colour. All the way down the lane his busy tongue never ceased. Plan after plan for the accommodation of his new favourite was poured into his mother's attentive ear.

Julius listened enviously until the clear ringing voice had died away in the distance. When he could hear it no longer, he rose from his hiding-place and sauntered slowly and discontentedly home.

It was early next morning when he met Robin once again.

Yielding to John's persuasions he had condescended to mount Red Rover, and after a good gallop on the heath was returning by the road that led to the sea. He was about to pass in at the lodge gates which guarded Farncourt, when he caught sight of Robin coming towards him on an ancient grey pony, whose sedate bearing and somewhat stiff movements proclaimed a long life of uneventful toil.

"That's a fine old cow you've got," he said rudely, when the pair reached the entrance of the park.

Robin flushed. Pride had filled his heart when he said good-bye to his mother at the garden door, and he and the blacksmith's pony had gone out alone into the great unknown. No boy was he, enjoying a rare and unwonted ride--rather was he a knight in armour on his trusty warhorse, pacing forth undauntedly to do battle with tyrants and dragons in the cause of Right. And now--to hear his charger called a cow! It was galling, to say the least of it, and his spirit rose to the occasion.

"Insult me not, caitiff!" he exclaimed, "or thou shalt rue the day. Stand and deliver!"

With a whoop, more like that of an Indian at Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show than of an errant knight of King Arthur's Table, the boy suddenly applied his whip to the old pony's flanks, making him lurch heavily forward to the charge.

Surprised by the unexpected attack, it required all Julius' horsemanship to calm Red Rover, and stay the plunging of the fiery little cob. Quieted at length, he managed to bring him to a standstill within the gates, and from that safe vantage ground he turned to face the enemy.

"You'd better not come in here with your clumsy beast," he called out. "If you do, you'll be prosecuted. Look, it's written up on that board."

"I desire not to set foot within thy territory," replied Robin grandly. "I go forth to the great battle where the king awaits me, relying upon my trusty sword."

Taken aback by this strange form of address, Julius watched silently as the youthful combatant laboriously turned his steed and passed with sober tread along the road. One more shot came Parthian-wise as they went their way, revealing the boy beneath the knight.

"It's all very well to call my pony a cow, but it can shake hands and open a gate, and I expect that's more than yours can do."

As Julius rode up the avenue one purpose only filled his mind. How could he get to know this lad, and find out more about the delightful game which he seemed to be enjoying all by himself.

"If only we could play at being knights together, what glorious tournaments we could have in the meadow," he thought. "He looked so jolly and brave when he came banging into Red Rover like that, just as if he was a real warrior. I wonder how he taught his pony to shake hands. I wish Prince could learn to do it too. Why does father hate to have anybody here? I don't think it's fair. Anyhow, I'm going to try and see the boy again, whatever any one may say."

The late afternoon sun was shining down on Sea View Cottage as Julius crept up to a small hole in the hedge which separated the garden from the lane. A pretty picture met his eye as he peered through. Not a stone's throw from him stood the little house, nestling in a bower of green, its long slope of rich brown thatch cut into fantastic patterns, across which wandering creepers seemed to cast protecting arms. A profusion of sweet-smelling flowers filled the narrow border on each side of the path, making a bright foreground to the scene.

The stranger lady sat sewing in a low chair beneath a tree, while beside her was the quondam knight, hard at work with hammer and saw fashioning something out of old boxes and wire.

"Where's Peter?" suddenly exclaimed Robin, springing to his feet.

"Who's Peter?" whispered Julius to himself, as he tried to get a better view of the group.

The words had no sooner fallen from his lips than a tiny brown rabbit darted out of the hedge at his feet and hopped rapidly down the road. Quick as thought, Pat the terrier had the little creature in his mouth, from which Julius rescued it a moment later, trembling and terrified, but apparently none the worse for its unceremonious capture.

"What a good thing it was that you and your dog were just passing when Peter slipped out," said Robin to him as he walked into the garden and delivered up the runaway.

It was with certain qualms of conscience that Julius had lifted the latch of the gate and entered the forbidden ground, but he strove to stifle them as best he could. Even if his father did see him, surely he would not blame him for doing such a kind and simple act? It was very unlikely, however, that he would know anything at all about it, for he hardly ever came to that end of the village, and Sea View Cottage lay quite off the beaten track. There would surely be no harm just finding out if the boy was a nice fellow after all, for if he wasn't, he would not trouble his head about him again.

Apparently his investigations proved satisfactory, for it was only when it got too dark to see any more that he reluctantly tore himself away. Never could he remember to have spent an afternoon that passed so quickly. No grand patent rabbit-hutch, perfect in every detail, had ever given him half so much joy as this rough makeshift at which the two boys laboured eagerly as long as it was light.

When at length the crowning moment arrived, and Peter was formally introduced to his new home, Julius was almost as excited over it as was Robin himself. Long did he linger, so fascinating was it to watch the little inmate as it explored the corners of the old packing-case, and stood up on its hind legs to sniff the wire netting which had been so carefully fastened on, with a vast amount of vigorous hammering and super-abundance of nails. He almost danced with delight when Peter went through the narrow doorway, sawn with infinite labour in the hard wood, which led to the sleeping apartment within. How comfortable he would find it, filled as it was with nice dry bracken, which the two lads had gathered from the adjoining wood.

"I'll come back to-morrow early," he remarked to Robin, when at length he could bring himself to say good-bye. "I think everything's right, but there might be a nail or two we could stick in somewhere to make it all quite secure, and we'll be able to see better in the morning."

"I think Robin's the jolliest boy I ever knew," he said to himself as he went home. "I'll often go to see him, if only I can manage without father finding out. We'll have some fine times together, and no one will be any the wiser."

"I couldn't have believed he was such a decent sort of chap," was Robin's comment after Julius had taken his departure. "He seemed such an utter cad when he spoke to me at the gates."

"Poor little fellow," replied Mrs. Power, "you see he's got no mother to help him to behave, and I expect he's not used to meeting people, as Mr. Field leads such an isolated life. We must try and be kind to him if we can."

"A gentleman to see you, sir," said the footman as he approached Mr. Field with a salver on which lay a solitary visiting card.

"Eh, what? A visitor, did you say?" said his master. "What's his name, Jenkins?"

"It's written there, sir," replied the footman. "He said you wouldn't know him, but he would be glad if you could see him for a few moments on business."

"Judge Simmons," read out Mr. Field, as he took up the card. "Sounds as if he came from America."

"So he does, sir, if you can go by his accent," answered Jenkins.

"Don't like Yankees, though I've spent so much of my life among them," murmured Mr. Field under his breath. "What can this fellow want, coming bothering me here?" he added in a slightly louder tone.

"I don't know, sir, I didn't happen to enquire," replied the footman.

"Don't be impertinent, Jenkins," said Mr. Field looking up sharply. He lived in continual dread that his servants were making fun of him behind his back, and Jenkins' tone was suspiciously polite. "Of course it's not your place to question my visitors, and you'd pretty soon find yourself in hot water if you did."

"Judge Simmons is a better specimen of a gentleman than old Field," was the footman's conclusion as he piloted the visitor into the library, "and I fancy he knows a thing or two by the look of him. I shouldn't like to be faced by him if there was anything shady I wanted to hide. His eyes seem to go right through you, as if he could count your very bones."

Certainly the tall spare figure that crossed the room to shake hands with Mr. Field was a good example of the typical well-bred American. Clean-shaven, with a firm jaw, and quick, piercing eyes, he gave one the impression at once of a strong man, alert and observant, with a sense of humour tempering the sternness of the mouth.

"I must apologize," he said, "for intruding upon you in this manner, but I shall be grateful if you will allow me to speak to you on a matter of rather urgent business."

Mr. Field motioned him to a chair, and replied that he would be pleased to assist him if it was in his power to do so.

"Well," continued the stranger, "the fact is this. I have a young friend over in Mexico, who is rather too fond of embarking on commercial enterprises of a decidedly risky and precarious nature, and as I am in a way his adviser, I feel a certain amount of responsibility when he asks my opinion about things. He has just written, saying he has the option of purchasing some land in which rumour says that silver maybe found, and he wants to know what I think about it. It is quite out of your beat, Mr. Field, as I know your mines are in California, so I felt it would not be trespassing on your preserves if I asked you to be kind enough to answer a few questions in a friendly way as to the risks of such a speculation, knowing what an authority you are upon the subject. I am staying with Lord Monfort, and, hearing that you resided so near, I ventured to make myself known to you, hoping that my nationality would perhaps appeal to you, seeing you have lived so long in my country."

Mr. Field's features, which at first had been decidedly forbidding, relaxed at the mention of the earl. Aloof though he held himself from the ordinary run of mankind, it was his secret ambition to mix with that society into which, except for his great wealth, he could never hope to obtain entrance. To know that he had been the subject of conversation at Lanthorne Abbey was as nectar to his aspiring soul.

"I shall be glad to do what I can for you," he said urbanely, "if you will kindly give me some particulars as to locality and the like."

After about half an hour's conference Judge Simmons rose to go.

"You will stay to lunch, won't you?" urged Mr. Field. "It's getting on towards one o'clock, and I shall be pleased to welcome you, if you will be content with merely the company of myself and my little boy."

"I've only once been down your way," remarked Judge Simmons as they were seated at table, "and that was some years ago, before you had made that corner of the world a household word. Everyone knows the Good Hope silver mine and its apparently exhaustless resources, but I wish I could locate it better in my own mind. I don't seem able to fit it in with what I remember of the place. I went with a nice young fellow named Barker who was prospecting then in those parts, and he staked out a claim somewhere thereabouts. I recollect he called it Wild Goat Gully. I've quite lost sight of him since, and have never been up there again, but I fancy he didn't strike it rich, or we should have heard of it before now."

"I was told that he went completely to the dogs, and was at last drowned when crossing one of the big rivers," replied Mr. Field. "He certainly made nothing out of his Gully, so far as I heard, and the very name he gave it has died out."

"One peculiarity about it struck me much at the time," remarked the judge. "There was a high precipice bounding it on one side, with a great orange streak right across it as if it had been daubed on with a brush. Some geological freak, I suppose."

"Why, how funny!" exclaimed Julius, who had been sitting silently listening to the conversation. "That's just like the Good Hope cliff. It looks exactly as if some enormous giant had thrown his pot of yellow paint at the rock."

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