Devon Boys

"Not a bit, sir. The pony's as sure-footed as a mule. He won't slip."

No more was said, and in this fas.h.i.+on we walked home, with Bob in front on the pony and me by his side, for I ran on to join him, my father and Doctor Chowne coming behind.

Old Sam was outside as we came in sight of the cottage, and the old fellow threw his hat in the air as he caught sight of us, and then came to meet us at a trot, after disappearing for a moment in the house.

"I said you'd come back all right. I know'd it when they telled me about the boat," he cried to me as he came up.

"Boat! What about the boat?" I said.

"One o' the fishermen picked her up, and as soon as I heered as her oars and hitcher were all right, I said there was no accident. The rope had loosed and she'd drifted away."

"But how did you know we had gone off in the boat, Sam?" I said eagerly.

"How did I know?" he said. "Think when you didn't come back a man was going to bed and forget you all?"

"Well, I hardly thought that, Sam," I said.

"Because I didn't, and I went right over to the mine and asked, and you weren't there, and then I went to Uggleston's and heerd you'd gone out in the boat, and that's how I know'd, Mast' Sep, sir."

"Here, Sam, run back and tell Kicksey to hurry on the breakfast," said my father.

"Hurry on the braxfa.s.s, captain," said Sam grinning, "why, I told Kicksey to put the ham in the pan as soon as I see you a-coming."

The result was that we were soon all seated at a capital breakfast and ready to forget the troubles of the night, only that every now and then the recollection of the smuggling scene came in like a cloud, and I could not help seeing that my father was a good deal troubled in his mind.

Nothing, however, was said, and soon after breakfast the doctor went off with Bob Chowne.

As soon as we were alone my father began to walk up and down the room in a very anxious manner, and once or twice he turned towards me as if about to speak, but he checked himself and went on with his walk.

At last the silence became so irksome that I took upon myself to speak first.

"Are you going over to

"Yes, my boy," he replied. "But you had better go and lie down for an hour or two."

"Oh, no, father," I said. "I'm not tired. Let me go with you."

He nodded, and then stood thoughtful, and tapping the ground with his foot.

All at once he seemed to have made up his mind.

"Look here, Sep," he said; "you are growing a great fellow now. I've been helping you all these years; now you must help me."

"Tell me how, father, and I will," I said eagerly.

"I know you will, my boy," he replied, "and I'm going to treat you now as I would a counsellor. This is a very unfortunate business, my boy."

"What, our seeing the smugglers last night?"

He nodded.

"Did you think, then, like I did, that it was Jonas Uggleston's boat?"

"I did, my boy."

"But it was not, father."

"No, my boy; but--"

"You think Jonas Uggleston knew the boat was coming, and he knows all about that hiding-place, father?"

"Is that what you have been thinking, Sep?"

"Yes, father."

"And so have I, my lad. Now, though I am, as I may say, still in the king's service, and I feel it my duty to go and inform the officers of what I have seen, on the other hand there is a horrible feeling of self-interest keeps tugging at me, and saying, 'mind your own business.

You are bad friends enough with Jonas Uggleston as it is, so let matters rest for your own sake and for your son's.'"

"Oh, father!" I exclaimed.

"Then this feeling hints to me that I am not sure of anything, and that I have no business to interfere, and so on. Among other things it seems to whisper to me that old Jonas will not know, when all the time he must. Now come, Sep, as a thoughtful boy, what should you recommend me to do?"

"It's very queer, father," I said rather dolefully; "but how often one is obliged to do and say things one way, when it would be so easy and comfortable to do and say things the other way."

"Yes, Sep," he replied, turning away his face; "it is so all through life, and one is always finding that there is an easy way out of a difficulty. What should you do here?"

"What's right, father," I said boldly. "What's right."

He turned upon me in an instant, and grasped my hand with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng, and he gripped me so hard that he hurt me.

As we stood looking in each other's eyes, a strange feeling of misery came over me.

"What shall you do, father?" I said.

"I don't quite know, Sep," he replied thoughtfully. "I think I shall wait till Jonas Uggleston gets home, and then tell him all I have seen."

"But it seems so hard on poor Bigley," I said dolefully.

"Ah!" shouted my father. "Stamp on it, Sep; stamp it down, boy. Crush out that feeling, for it is like a temptation. Duty, honesty, first; friends later on. It is hard, my boy, but recollect you are an officer's son, and _officer_ and _gentleman_ are two words that must always be bracketed together in the king's service. There's that one word, boy, for you to always keep in your heart, where it must s.h.i.+ne like a jewel--duty--duty. It is the compa.s.s, my lad, that points always--not to the north, but to the end of a just man's life--duty, Sep, duty."

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

OLD UGGLESTON IS TOO SHARP FOR THE REVENUE.

We did not go over that afternoon till it was growing late, for my father had a number of letters to write, and when we did go along the cliff, and reached the descent to the Gap, to our surprise there lay Jonas Uggleston's lugger, and we knew he had come home.

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed my father after drawing a long breath. "I shall have to speak at once. He does not seem to have landed yet."