The Gold-Stealers A Story Of Waddy, Edward Dyson [best sci fi novels of all time .TXT] 📗

You Under Arrest,

Sooner Than Let You Post Off To Elvas On So Bloodthirsty An Errand."

 

Sir Rowland Uttered This Speech With An Air Worthy Of His Puritan

Uncle,  Of Calvinistic Memory; But,  In Spite Of The Respect Due To The

Speaker,  It Was Too Much For The Gravity Of His Hearers. Lord

Strathern And His Companions Burst Into A Roar Of Laughter,  And Even

L'Isle,  Amidst All His Anger,  Felt Tempted To Join Them.

 

"Gentlemen," Said Sir Rowland,  In Grave Astonishment,  "I Like A Joke

As Well As Any Of You. Pray Explain This,  That I May Share Your

Enjoyment."

Chapter 3 Pg 14

Bradshawe,  With An Effort,  Cut Short His Laughter,  To Say: "As A

Neutral Party,  Sir Rowland,  I Will Be Colonel L'Isle'S Surety,  That In

Whatever Mood He May Set Out For Elvas,  As Soon As He Finds Himself In

The Presence Of His Enemy There,  He Will Be Gentle As A Lamb."

 

"You Deal In Mysteries; Who In elvas Is So Safe From L'Isle'S

Resentment?"

 

"Nobody But Lady Mabel Stewart."

 

"Lady Mabel Stewart!" Exclaimed Sir Rowland,  Looking At Lord

Strathern. "If A Lady Contrived This Plot,  I Shall Never Unravel It;

So You Must Do It For Me."

 

"Perhaps The Explanation," Said Bradshawe,  "Would Come More Gracefully

From My Lord."

 

"If I Knew The Details Of It," Said Lord Strathern,  Interrupting His

Hearty Laughter,  For He Seemed Resolved,  At All Hazard,  To Recover His

Fifty Guineas,  In Sport,  Out Of L'Isle. "I Can Tell But The Beginning;

And Then,  Sir Rowland,  You Can Squeeze The Rest Out Of L'Isle

Himself."

 

"By All Means," Said Sir Rowland. "L'Isle,  Take A Seat,  And Learn To

Stand Fire. You Must Not Dodge From A Volley Of Laughter,  That Happens

To Be Aimed At Yourself."

 

L'Isle Reluctantly Sat Down,  While Lord Strathern Said: "Have You Ever

Discovered,  Sir Rowland,  That L'Isle Is A Monomaniac?"

 

"No! On What Point?"

 

"Discipline! He Is A Little Touched Here," Said My Lord,  Laying His

Finger On His Temple,  "On The Subject Of Discipline. He Never Eats

Heartily,  Nor Sleeps Quietly,  But After Detecting The Breach Of A

Dozen Of The Rules And Regulations Made For The Government Of His

Majesty'S Troops. He Fancies That They Were Made Expressly To Afford

Him The Pleasure Of Detecting The Breach Of Them."

 

"Is This Disease Prevalent In Your Brigade,  My Lord?" Sir Rowland

Inquired In a Sarcastic Tone.

 

"By No Means; I Have Kept It Down; For My Method,  Looking To The

Spirit,  Not The Letter Of The Law,  Discourages It Greatly."

 

"I Have Seen Something Of Your Method,  My Lord," Said Sir Rowland,

Smiling; "But Cannot Say That I Have Mastered Its Peculiar Merits."

 

"That Is Very Likely," Said Lord Strathern,  Complacently. "As Every

Art Has Its Mysteries--So Each Man May Have Some Peculiar Gift In The

Application Of His Art; Even Though Taught By The Same Master,  No Two

Men'S Handwriting Are Exactly Alike; So Each Of Us May Have Some

Inimitable Peculiarity In His Soldiership. It Is Certain That L'Isle,

Not Understanding My More Enlarged And Liberal System,  Wished To Force

Me Into His Own Narrow Notions,  And When I Would Not Yield To Him,  He

Intimated To Me That I Was Training Up Banditti. I Had To Recommend To

Him The Study Of One Of The Articles Of War,  Which He Had

Chapter 3 Pg 15

Overlooked. It Treats Of Subordination,  And Of Each Man'S Minding His

Own Business. Neither Of Us Was Very Successful In Keeping His Temper;

And,  Indeed,  Being A Good Deal Rufff Us Was Very Sual; And Shine,  As The Superintendent,  Must

Withhold His Countenance From So Grievous A Sinner. Besides,  There Was A

Belief That At Some Time Or Another The Faceman Had Thrashed Shine,  Who

Was Searcher At The Stream In His Week-Day Capacity,  And For That Reason

Was Despised By The Miners,  And Regarded As A Creature Apart. Ephraim,  It

Was Remarked,  Was Always Particularly Careful In Searching Rogers When He

Came Off Shift,  In The Hope,  As The Men Believed,  Of One Day Finding A

Secreted Nugget,  And Getting Even With His Enemy By Gaoling Him For A Few

Years.

 

As Ephraim Passed Out From The Bar He Again Allowed His Eyes To Roll Up

And Meet Those Of His Enemy From The Dark Shadow Of His Thick Brows.

 

'Don'T Forget The Little Widow Was Sweet On Frank Hardy Before You Jugged

Him,  Tinribs,' Said The Miner.

 

Tinribs Was A Name Bestowed Upon The Superintendent By The Youth Of

Waddy,  And Called After Him By Irreverent Small Boys From Convenient

Cover Or Under The Shelter Of Darkness. He Found The Widow Haddon At

Home. She It Was Who Answered His Knock.

 

'I Have Come From The School Committee,  Ma'Am,' He Said,  Still Intent

Upon His Boots.

 

'About Dickie,  Is It? Come In.'

 

Mrs. Haddon Was Dressmaker-In-Ordinary To The Township,  And Her Otherwise

Carefully Tended Kitchen Was Littered With Clippings And Bits Of

Material. She Resumed Her Task By The Lamp A Soon As The Delegate Of The

School Committee Was Comfortably Seated.

 

'Has Richard Come Home,  Ma'Am?' Ephraim Was An Orator,  And Prided Himself

On His Command Of Language.

 

The Widow Shook Her Head. 'No,' She Said Composedly. 'I Don'T Think He

Will Come Home To-Night.'

 

'We Have Had A Committee Meeting,  Missus,' Said Ephraim,  Examining The

Toe Of His Left Boot Reproach Fully,  'An' It'S Understood We'Ve Got To

Catch These Boys.'

 

'What!' Cried Mrs. Haddon,  Dropping Her Work Into Her Lap. 'You Silly Men

Are Going To Make A Hunt Of It? Then,  Let Me Tell You,  You Will Not Get

That Boy Of Mine To-Morrow,  Nor This Week,  Nor Next. Was Ever Such A Pack

Of Fools! Let Dickie Think He Is Being Hunted,  And He'Ll Be A Bushranger,

Or A Brigand Chief,  Or A Pirate,  Or Something Desperately Wicked In That

Chapter 3 Pg 16

Amazin' Head Of His,  And You Won'T Get A-Nigh Him For Weeks,  Not A Man

Jack Of You! Dear,  Dear,  Dear,  You Men--A Set Of Interferin',

Mutton-Headed Creatures!

 

'He'S An Unregenerate Youth--That Boy Of Yours,  Ma'Am.'

 

'Is He,  Indeed?' Mrs. Haddon'S Handsome Face Flushed,  And She Squared Her

Trim Little Figure. 'Was He That When He Went Down The Broken Winze To

Poor Ben Holden? Was He That When He Brought Little Kitty Green And Her

Pony Out Of The Burnin' Scrub? Was He All A Little Villain When He Found

You Trapped In The Cleft Of A Log Under The Mount There,  When The Stream

Men Wouldn'T Stir A Foot To Seek You?

 

During This Outburst Shine Had Twisted His Boots In all Directions,  And

Examined Them Minutely From Every Point Of View.

 

'No,  No,  Ma'Am,' He Said,  'Not All Bad,  Not At All; But--Ah,  The--Ah,

Influence Of A Father Is Missing,  Mrs. Haddon.'

 

'That'S My Boy'S Misfortune,  Mr. Superintendent.'

 

'It--It Might Be Removed.'

 

'Eh? What'S That You Say?'

 

The Widow Eyed Her Visitor Sharply,  But He Was Squirming Over His

Unfortunate Feet,  And Apparently Suffering Untold Agonies On Their

Account.

 

'The Schoolmaster Must Be Supported,  Missus,' He Said Hastily.

'Discipline,  You Know. Boys Have To Be Mastered.'

 

'To Be Sure; But You Men,  You Don'T Know How. My Dick Is The Best Boy In

The School,  Sometimes.'

 

'Sometimes,  Ma'Am,  Yes.'

 

'Yes,  Sometimes,  And Would Be Always If You Men Had A Pen'Orth Of Ideas.

Boys Should Be Driven Sometimes And Sometimes Coaxed.'

 

'And How'D You Coax Him What Played Wag Under The Very School,  Fought

There,  An' Then Broke Out Of The Place Like A Burgerler?

 

'I Know,  I Know--_That'S Bad; But It'S Been A Fearful Tryin' Day,  An'

Allowances Should Be Made.'

 

'Then,  If He Comes Home You'Ll Give Him Over To Be--Ah,  Dealt With?'

 

'Certainly,  Superintendent; I Am Not A Fool,  An' I Want My Boy Taught.

But Don'T You Men Go Chasm' Those Lads; They'Ll Just Enjoy It,  An' You'Ll

Do No Good. You Leave Dickie To Me,  An' I'Ll Have Him Home Here In Two

Shakes. Dickie'S A High-Spirited Boy,  An' Full O' The Wild Fancies Of

Boys. He'S Done This Sort O' Thing Before. Run Away From Home Once To Be

A Sailor,  An' Slep' For Two Nights In a Windy Old Tree Not A Hundred

Chapter 3 Pg 17

Yards From His Own Comfortable Bed,  Imaginin' He Was What He Called On

The Foretop Somethin'. But I Know Well Enough How To Work On His

Feelings.'

 

'A Father,  Ma'Am,  Would Be The Savin' O' That Lad.'

 

Mrs. Haddon Dropped Her Work Again And Her Dark Eyes Snapped; But Ephraim

Shine Had Lifted One Boot On To His Knee,  And Was Examining A Hole In The

Sole With Bird-Like Curiosity.

 

'When I Think My Boy Needs Special Savin' I'Ll Send For You,  Mr. Shine--

 

'It'D Be A Grave Responsibility,  A Trial An' A Constant Triberlation,  But

I Offer Myself. I'Ll Be A Father To Your Boy,  Ma'Am,  Barrin' Objections.'

 

'An' What Is Meant By That,  Mr. Shine?'

 

The Widow,  Flushed Of Face,  With Her Work Thrust Forward In Her Lap And A

Steely Light In Her Fine Eyes,  Regarded The Searcher Steadily.

 

'An Offer Of Marriage To Yourself Is Meant,  Mrs. Haddon,  Ma'Am.'

 

Shine'S Eyes Came Sliding Up Under His Brows Till They Encountered Those

Of Mrs. Haddon; Then They Fell Again Suddenly. The Little Widow Tapped

The Table Impressively With Her Thimbled Finger,  And Her Breast Heaved.

 

'Do You Remember Frank Hardy,  Ephraim Shine?'

 

'To Be Certain I Do.'

 

'Well,  Man,  You May Have Heard What Frank Hardy Was To Me Before He Went

To--To--'

 

'To Gaol,  Mrs. Haddon? Yes.'

 

'Listen To This,  Then. What Frank Hardy Was To Me Before He Is Still,

Only More Dear,  An' I'D As Lief Everybody In Waddy Knew It.'

 

'A Gaol-Bird An' A Thief He Is.'

 

'He Is In Gaol,  An' That May Make A Gaol-Bird Of Him,  But He Is No Thief.

'Twas You Got Him Into Gaol,  An'