Our Den
Date: 2019-07-07T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Brothers -- Juvenile fiction; Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Juvenile fiction; Wills -- Juvenile fiction; Ghosts -- Juvenile fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Our Den

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Title: Our Den

Author: E. M. Waterworth

Release date: July 7, 2019 [eBook #59872]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Al Haines

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR DEN ***

"THERE APPEARED THREE FIGURES, DRIPPING FROM HEAD TO FOOT." (p. 18.)

OUR DEN

BY

E. M. WATERWORTH,

Author of "Master Lionel, That Tiresome Child," etc.

LONDON:
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO.
9, Paternoster Row.

CHAPTER I.
The Savages are Expected

CHAPTER II.
They Arrive—Unexpectedly

CHAPTER III.
Our Den is Fortified

CHAPTER IV.
Fish or Fowl for Supper

CHAPTER V.
Tied to the Bell Buoy

CHAPTER VI.
Punishment and Escape

CHAPTER VII.
The Mysterious Visitor

CHAPTER VIII.
The Oak Chest

CHAPTER IX.
The Mystery Deepens

CHAPTER X.
How the Stranger Helped

CHAPTER XI.
A Day of Surprises

CHAPTER XII.
The Lost Will

OUR DEN.

CHAPTER I.
The Savages are Expected.

"I think it is our duty, John."

"Stuff and nonsense. How can it be our duty to turn our house into a bear-garden for the sake of a lot of young savages? Let them spend their holidays at school."

I was reading, as I generally was in those days, but the word "savages" made me look up. It was fun reading about such people, but I was not at all sure that I should care to see even one alive, and here was father talking about a lot of them.

Mother laughed merrily. Somehow, she generally did laugh when other people would have cried; and I know now that it was mother's merry laugh that made the sunshine of our home.

"Why, John, how can you make savages into bears? They would not even hug you if you looked as fierce as you do now."

Then glancing towards my little sofa, mother's face became sweetly grave as she added in a low voice, "Besides, dear, we should like people to be good to Edric if we were not here; and, after all, they may do him good. You know the London doctor said he would have more chance of getting strong if he had plenty of play with brothers and sisters, instead of always having a book in his hand."

The colour came to my face, and I turned hot and cold all over, while I listened for father's answer. It was about six months since they had taken me to London to see a famous physician, and I had never heard them mention what he had said about me. I was the only child, and, owing to a fall downstairs when I was quite a tiny trot, there was a slight curvature in my spine. I did not know what was the matter then, but I knew that I was not like other children.

I dreaded the noise which my few friends made in the room when they came to see me. I had lived in an iron frame for about two years; and when I was taken out of it, and was supposed to be allowed to walk a little, the desire to move had gone. My parents did not like to urge me, and so six months passed away and I was still carried from room to room, still lay reading most of the day, and was quietly content. It was only now and then that mother's anxious look at me told that she was not satisfied; father and I seemed to have made up our minds that I was to be an invalid for the rest of my life, so I listened anxiously for his answer to mother's remark about the doctor.

"Do you really think it would do the boy good to be tormented by a lot of rough, strong children? Then let them come, but keep them out of my sight. I hate noise almost as much as Edric does."

"I had settled all that, dear, before I ever spoke to you about it. There's the tower room—it is big and airy, and right at the top of the house—I thought they should have that for their playroom."

"You'd better call it their den at once," said father, leaning over my shoulder to read the title of my book. "There are about twenty panes of glass in it now. I wonder how many whole ones there will be when the holidays are over. How do you like the idea of the invasion of the savages, my boy?" he added, in the tender tone in which he always addressed me.

"Who are they, father?" I asked, laying my thin white hand in his brown, strong one.

"Your Uncle George's children, dear. He sent them to school at Bath, and intended to be in England for their summer holidays, but he was prevented from leaving Sydney just at the last minute; and your Aunt Mary has written to ask if we will let them all spend the time here. There are four of them, three boys and a girl who is as big a boy as any of them, I believe. What do you think of it, Edric?"

"I think I shall like seeing Cousin Kathleen," I said, rather shyly; even with my parents it was rather difficult for me to speak my thoughts. "She has often sent nice messages to me, and this is the book-marker she made for me. Perhaps she will read to me, and show me how to play chess."

"We will burn all those books, lad," said father, sweeping a little heap off my sofa to the floor. "Let me carry you out to see the high tide."

"Not just now, father, please," I said, cuddling the last remaining book in my arms. "I want to see what becomes of Rupert in the Redskins' camp."

"That's good," said father, laughing heartily. "Your eldest cousin's name is Rupert, and we shall soon be wanting to know what becomes of Edric in Rupert's den."

"When are they coming?" I asked, with a faint trembling at my heart. Mother had taught me to be kind in my thoughts of every one, but I began to be a little afraid of these stranger cousins.

"They may be here next week; but I am not sure what day the school breaks up."

"Well, I will go and see about getting the tower room ready," said mother, when father had gone out to look at a new horse which he had bought for the farm. "Do you want anything before I go, darling?"

"No, thank you, mother."

As she bent down to kiss me before she left me, mother looked longingly into my face.

"I believe you look better already, dear. Don't you think that—— Why, darling, what's the matter; there are tears in your eyes."

Of course it was silly for a boy of twelve to begin to cry because his cousins were coming to stay with him, but I feel bound to let you know the whole truth about myself. I couldn't possibly say what I was crying for, but I suppose that I was in a weak and morbid state.

"You'll love me still, mother, won't you," I whispered, clinging to her neck; "and you won't let them make me do anything I don't want to?"

Poor mother! If I had only known, that was just the very reason she wanted my cousins to come; but she comforted me, and promised faithfully I should be left to myself as much as I liked.

"They will have their den, as your father calls it, and you needn't go in it unless you like. Now I will go and see about getting it ready. It will want brightening up a bit. Nobody has ever used it since I have lived here, and that is nearly fourteen years. Good-bye, dear; don't read too much."

She had her hand on the door before I could summon courage to speak what was in my mind.

"I've never been in the tower room, mother. Do you think I might go with you, just to see it before they come?"

CHAPTER II.
They Arrive—Unexpectedly.

There was a joyous ring in my dear mother's voice as she called out of the window for father to carry me upstairs; and I noticed that they both looked at each other with a satisfied nod as I was deposited on a long Rattan chair, which, with the exception of a great oak chest, was the only piece of furniture in the den.

It was a glorious day in July. The tower room was almost walled with glass on three sides, and looking out I saw such a view as I had never imagined could be seen from our own house. In front of me I could gaze across the field to the back-water of the river which made our farm into an island at high tide; beyond that, again, lay a narrow neck of land, then the main stream, which, running to the left, widened and widened till it entered into the sea. Across the river were some few houses of a small seaside town, and beyond those houses I knew was the sea; the open sea on which I had never been but once. I knew that summer after summer yachts sailed from the pier at Craigstown round the Eagle Point, and up the river to the old watermill, or from the mill to the pier. Sometimes I would watch the tops of the sails from my bedroom window; but I could see little more, and never wished to be in the vessels. Here in the tower room I could see the whole course of the river when mother dragged my chair to the different windows, and I exclaimed, "Oh! I am glad I came, mother: doesn't the water look lovely?"

"Yes, darling, it is a very high tide to-day. If you look down there to the right of that large tree you will see that our road to Craigstown is quite covered up. They may well call this Island Farm; you would have to swim across the little stream whichever way you wanted to go now. Now, Edric, you can help me; tell me what I shall put in this room to make it nice for your cousins. Remember, their parents are thousands of miles away, and we must try to make them happy. Fancy how you would feel if you were in Australia without me."

I didn't fancy it at all; but I know what mother meant, and suggested that first one thing and then another should be brought upstairs. There was my tool chest—of course I should never use it; it was such a funny thing for father to give me. I did not realize that he had bought it hoping to rouse me to try to use some of the tools. There was a box of lovely stone bricks. I could play with them, and used to enjoy making designs out of my own head, which pleased my parents and made them prophesy that I should be an architect some day. There were paint boxes and puzzles. There was even a fishing rod and a landing net; I almost laughed when mother brought them up from a cupboard in my room.

"It seems a pity that father should buy me such things, doesn't it, mother?" I said, and then I felt sorry. Mother came across the room to me, and said softly, "You see, dear, the London doctor said he quite hoped that you would be able to get about like other children some day, though you would always have a little twist in your back, which would prevent you being as straight and strong as they are. Your father loves you so, that he cannot bear to think you ore different from others; and so he keeps giving you things just as if you were well and strong, hoping that some day you will be able to use them. Now where shall I put this flag?"

You would not believe what a change mother made in the room. By dinner time it looked quite pretty; and I was actually so hungry that I was glad when the dinner bell sounded, and father came up the creaky stairs two at a time to carry me down.

"I think the change of rooms has done you good, laddie," he said, as he took me in his arms. "You had better have that Rattan chair moved, Mary," he added to my mother; "there won't be much of it left by September if you don't."

"Oh, don't move it, please, father," I said. "It will do so nicely for me to lie in when I go there."

"So it's going to be your den as well as theirs, is it, young man? And, pray, what do you think we shall feel like when we come into this room and see your empty sofa?"

Glancing at father, to see how much he meant, I fancied that there was a merry twinkle in his eye. At all events, I am certain that we had a brighter dinner than we generally had, and I remember particularly that I asked for a second helping of meat.

"What shall I bring you from Colchester?" said father, after dinner. "I am going to try the new mare, and I'll bring you back anything you like to name up to five shillings."

"There's a new book of Kingston's, father—I forget the title—if you wouldn't mind getting that. I have nearly finished Rupert and the Redskins."

"Oh, no more books," said father, impatiently. "I'd like to burn the lot of them. I'd rather buy you a cricket bat. There, don't look miserable, laddie. You shall have the book, but I'd give a five-pound note to hear you say, 'Take me with you in the dog-cart.' Now, good-bye. I shan't be starting for another hour, till the tide is down, but I don't suppose you will see me again before I go. Shall I send a telegram to Bath to say the youngsters can come? Perhaps they will like to look forward to it. And is there anything else you want, to rig up their den?"

We both laughed, and mother said something about believing father would be delighted to see the savages after all.

"Oh! I don't care, as long as you keep them out of my way. I'll bring them a couple of boxes of soldiers; that's sure to keep them quiet for a time."

"Girls don't like soldiers," I remarked.

"Don't they, though, if they have half a dozen brothers and no sister. I suppose you'd like me to buy Miss Kathleen a workbox, and she wouldn't know which finger to put the thimble on, I'll be bound. What on earth is that?"

Well might he ask. A succession of shouts and yells, interspersed with loud "C-o-o-e-e, c-o-o-e-e," disturbed the usual placid silence which reigned on a summer afternoon in our island farm, especially when the tide was up, and we were cut off from the mainland.

Angry expostulations from some of the labourers followed; and then, to our utter amazement, there appeared on the lawn at our open window three figures, dripping from head to foot.

CHAPTER III.
Our Den is Fortified

"Stand back! Stand back!" shouted father, as the boys made straight for our new carpet. "Who in the world are you?"

"Don't you know us, uncle?" said the eldest, shaking the water from him like a Newfoundland dog. "The old fellow drove us from Colchester station, and actually wanted us to wait the other side of that stream till the tide went down. It wasn't likely we should do that, was it? So we just walked through. Kathleen got her shoe stuck in the mud, but she's coming along presently. Now, aren't you glad to see us, uncle?"

There was something irresistible in the impudent, freckled face turned up to father's; and although my first thought was that Rupert was decidedly ugly, I soon came to see that there was the beauty of goodness in eyes and mouth and general expression.

Mother was the first to regain her self-possession.

"You naughty children," she said, stepping out on the lawn, "you will catch your death of cold, and I suppose you haven't even got any other clothes to put on. Edric's won't fit any of you but Harold."

"Don't you fret, auntie," said Jack, who had been capering about, and leaving little rivulets of water wherever he went. "We don't think anything of wet clothes, we just run about till they are dry."

"But where's your box?" said father.

"It's the other side of the water," said Rupert, laughing; "I know now what King John felt like when he lost all his luggage in the Wash. We lost half our things in the wash at school, and now we've lost the other half in your Wash. My word, hasn't the tide gone down quick! The old fellow was right after all. Why, it's only up to Kathleen's ankles now. Here she comes, shoes and all. Ugh! go away, you horrid, wet girl."

A well-aimed shoeful of water went over Jack's head, and then with a queer, uneven step, due to having one shoe off and one on, my Cousin Kathleen advanced to greet my father and mother.

"What do you think of that, Uncle John?" she said, putting her dry arm round his neck. "Those naughty boys left me to get on as well as I could with one foot stuck in the mud; but I'll pay them out. Ah, there's Cousin Edric," and there was such a change in the merry face, that a glow of pleasure spread over mine.

"We know each other already, don't we, dear? Isn't it lovely to think that we are going to be here six whole weeks? Can't you really walk, Edric?"

There was something so very funny in the whole scene, the dripping boys outside, the girl with hat thrown back and tumbled, curly hair, with skirts wet to the waist, and one shoe in her hand, that I burst out laughing. Of course, everyone joined, and it was thus that we received the savages into our home circle. But mother now interposed, and marched them all off to their bedrooms, while father sent a man in one of the carts to fetch the boxes, which the Colchester fly-driver had so unceremoniously deposited on the other side of the stream.

We found out in the course of time, that the boys' school had been suddenly closed, owing to the death of the master's wife. My cousins had heard from their father that they would probably spend the summer holidays with us, and the master had thought it best to send them straight to us, taking their sister with them. The telegram which should have prepared us for their arrival, came about half an hour after we were all sitting down to tea.

What a tea that was! Father was, of course, away, having merely looked in to say good-bye to me and whisper, "Don't let the young rogues tire you, laddie; they can go upstairs to their own room. I shall be back in time to carry you to bed if you stop up a little later than usual."

Kathleen took me under her wing at once. Her chair must be next to my sofa, and she must hand me everything I wanted. We were all ready; I had taken one or two bites of bread and butter, and saw to my surprise that none of my cousins had begun eating.

"Why are you waiting?" asked mother.

"For grace," said Jack, the second boy.

We had always been accustomed to say grace before and after dinner, but it never seemed to have entered our heads to say it at any other meals. I glanced at mother.

"Say it then, dear," she said, kindly, and Rupert said it; then they fell to and made a hearty tea. From that day forward we never forgot to give thanks for every meal which was put before us.

I don't think I ate much, for I was laughing so heartily. It was quite a new phase of life to me, and my cousins seemed so possessed with the spirit of fun that it was quite infectious.

"Now, auntie, where's our den?" said Rupert, when tea was over. "Father had a den in Sydney. He called it his den, but it was the jolliest place in the house, except——"

"Except when Rupert went into a rage and hit Harold, then father told him to meet him in his study, and you should have seen Rupert's face," interposed Jack.

"Rupert ran away and hid under the tank," continued Kathleen, with a broad smile on her face. "The clergyman was staying with us, and he went to fish him out. Rupert saw him coming, and cried out, 'I say, Mr. Wilson, is father after you, too?' You should have heard them laugh. Of course Rupert didn't get his caning, so father's den is still the jolliest place in the house."

"And so will ours be," was the general shout as they filed upstairs behind mother.

The sunshine seemed gone out of the room when they left it. I tried to go on with my reading, but I found myself listening for any sound from the tower room. It was too far away, however, for me to hear anything but the loud bang of the door at the bottom of the little staircase, so I was obliged to go back to my book with a sigh. It was not likely strong, healthy, rackety children would want poor sickly little me.

"Bo! Twopence for your thoughts, Edric. Oh, did I hurt you? I didn't know you would be really frightened. What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," I said, hastily, trying to breathe quietly again, and smiling at Rupert. "You see I am so used to being alone that a sudden noise makes me jump."

"I'm sorry," said Rupert, sitting on the edge of my sofa, and swinging his legs so violently that he almost made my teeth chatter.

"What pretty hair you've got, Edric. It is all wavy like mother's, and just the same colour. You'd have made a splendid girl. There, now, I've hurt you again, and I didn't mean to either. You'll be a big man and a clever one some day, I expect; anyway, no one can call you carrots as they do me. Halloa, Kathleen, what do you want?"

"Let's carry Edric upstairs," said Kathleen; "he can tell us where to find things;" and, before I could say yes or no, they had taken me in their arms, so carefully, so tenderly, that after the first moment I was quite happy.

"There, captain," said Jack, as they pulled the long chair into the middle of the room. "Now we want your orders. This is our castle, but what is a castle without fortifications? You might as well have a plum pudding without any plums! We've got to barricade this place, so that the enemy can't get in unless we wish it."

"But if they can't get in, we can't get out," I said, hastily.

"Of course we can, you owl! What's the good of lovely windows like those, with old ivy climbing outside? I've been down to the garden already that way," said Harold.

"But Edric can't go in and out of the window," said Kathleen; "and I don't think I should care to very often; it is rather awkward with petticoats. Let us fortify the castle, but we must do it so that we can go in and out if we wish. Now, captain, tell us where to find wood."

There was plenty to be had in the outhouses, and they worked so hard that they had made several rough defences for door and window before it was dark, and mother came up anxiously to look for me.

"How ever did you get up here, darling?" she asked.

"By the same way that he's going back, auntie," and as Rupert spoke my two cousins raised me in their arms and carried me as carefully as if I were made of egg-shell china.

CHAPTER IV.
Fish or Fowl for Supper.

It would take too long to tell you of all the things which happened in our den. Little bits of fun which would sound nothing to you, were great events in my life. I had lived so long on my invalid couch that both griefs and joys were intensified to me.

I was too young to think such things; but if I had been older I should have asked myself very often, "Is this the same me that used to lie reading for hours, and never left his sofa if he could help it?" Why, I actually had forgotten to see what became of Rupert among the Redskins. My four cousins were all so busy making the most of their holidays that I didn't seem to have time to breathe. Whatever they did, Edric must at least look on—if he would help, so much the better; so it ended in my seeing very little of my parents. Father still persisted in refusing to let the young savages have meals with him, though I felt sure, from the look he gave them when he happened to peep in our room, that he was getting to like them; and I overheard him once say to mother: "Our laddie looks fatter and brighter; I suppose it's those young scamps' doings. I wish they had come before."

"I'm sure they have done him good," said mother, heartily; "and they have done no harm to anyone, in spite of all the mischief you prophesied."

"Wait and see," said father, grimly. "That young Jack reminds me of a volcano; it looks quiet enough one minute, but it may swallow you up the next. If they get through the holidays without an eruption, I'll give them a sovereign between them when I drive them to Colchester."

Sudden news from London took father away that very evening, and hastened the explosion which he had prophesied.

"Now, what shall we do this afternoon?" said Rupert the next day, when dinner was over and I had been carried by my two faithful bearers into the den.

"I vote we go fishing," said Jack, proceeding to inspect my fishing rod and line. "We have been here a fortnight and haven't been fishing once. What do you say, captain? Shall we be like the monks who hid in the old water mill, and fish for our dinner? What's the matter? you look quite glum."

"Of course he does," said Kathleen; "he doesn't wish to be left alone. I'll stay with you, Edric."

"Why shouldn't he go, too?" suggested Harold. "It's a regular tub of a boat, rather different from the one we had at Sydney."

"Perhaps your river was rather different from ours," I said, colouring at the slight cast upon my father's boat. "You forget that this is a tidal river; there's only a small part of it fit for a boat at all at low water, and if there's much wind it runs like a racehorse just past our back-water to the bay."

"All right, captain, we beg your boat's pardon, and as it is so big we will make good use of it. You shall come out fishing with us," said Rupert, marching out of the room as if he considered that his word was law, instead of mine.

I know I was very naughty, but I had perfect confidence in my two bearers; and when Kathleen had tried to find mother all over the house and failed, I let my wishes silence my conscience and said, "All right, I'll come if you will put me in carefully; but mind, I don't know anything about boating."

"Oh, Rupert knows enough for all of us. Father says he can manage a boat as well as he can. Let's get some food out of our cupboard and start at once."

Our den was always well provided with eatables, so there was no difficulty on that score, and the dread of being stopped at the last moment made me hurry them all as much as possible. I was quite relieved when Rupert appeared with my hat and a plaid.

"We'll take this in case it gets cool. Now, then, Kathleen. Heave ahoy!"

I was carried down those stairs more rapidly than I had ever been before. I shut my eyes and bit my lips to avoid showing how frightened I was. When I looked up I was in the bottom of the boat. Harold, with loving thoughtfulness, had put in some cushions, and I felt as comfortable as on my sofa.

"Push her off, Jack." Jack did it skilfully, and sprang in just as my heart came into my mouth for fear he should fall into the water.

"Hurrah!" they all cried, at the top of their voices, but my cheer was a feeble one; I had caught sight of something in the bows, and if there is one thing I have hated all my life it is a gun.

"What have you got that for?" I said to Rupert.

"Always best to have two strings to your bow, captain. If Jack can't catch any fish, then I'll shoot something; we must have either fish or fowl for supper to-night."

"Did mother say you might have it?"

Jack made a grimace, and said something about Rupert not being half as stupid as he looked; but I soon forgot all about the gun in my enjoyment of the water. Rupert and Harold rowed well together, and Kathleen steered till we came to the main stream, when Jack put out his line.

If fish can hear and understand, they certainly must have thought that there never was a noisier crew come out to look for them. We laughed till we couldn't laugh any more, and our rowers had to rest on their oars to recover strength to pull them.

"Just look!" said Jack, suddenly. "There's a tiny footmark. I should think that fellow wears nineteens."

"Hold hard a minute, and let us trace them," said Rupert, leaning over the side. "Talk of footprints in the snow, they are not half as beautiful as footprints in the mud under the river."

He guided the boat skilfully, so that we followed the steps, till they went up the bank on the side nearest Craigstown.

"The old fellow comes from there, then; I wonder where he goes, and where he comes from. It's a queer sort of place to choose for an afternoon walk. Halloa, what's that? Push off quick, Jack, or we shall stick, and on the wrong side, too."

"HE WAS THROWN TO THE BOTTOM OF THE BOAT."

Jack sprang up, and put the oar down with a force which sent the boat out into the current again, but the next instant he fell. He had overreached himself, the oar stuck, and he was thrown to the bottom of the boat. There was consternation in every face for a moment. Rupert was the first to recover himself. "Take that stretcher, Jack, and see what you can do to help me. You will pull stronger than Harold. I'll just turn her round and go home."

It was very easy to say, but impossible to do; pull as they would they could only get the boat half round, so that she was more than ever in the power of the stream.

I looked at Kathleen anxiously. She was as white as her frock.

"The tide has turned," she cried, "and we are going out to sea."

CHAPTER V.
Tied to the Bell Buoy.

I expect I fainted, for when I looked at Kathleen again she was bathing my face and hands with sea water, and the shores were ever so much farther off than they had been.

"Oh, Edric, what shall we do? What will uncle and aunt say? Are you better now? What is the time, Rupert?"

"Half-past four," said Rupert. "The tide runs out six hours, so we can't be back any way before midnight."

"Then I vote we have something to eat," said Jack, as usual the first to recover himself. "I say, Rupert, is it any good fagging away with that oar to keep her in the middle of the stream? Don't you think we might as well let her run aground?"

Rupert was standing in the bows, guiding the boat as they do the gondolas in Venice, and looked tired and anxious.

"I think we ought to go on," he said, quietly. "Edric has never been on the water but once, and I want to get him home. If we get stranded we are bound to stay till the tide comes up and floats us, and then there's a doubt whether we can get this heavy tub home with one oar. I think our best chance is to go down with the stream, till we get into the bay. Perhaps a boat will pass, and take us round to Craigstown."

"We could easily drive home from there at low water," said I, trying to speak cheerily, though I felt fearful. What a different party we were then, as the boat went swiftly down the river, widening and widening every moment.

"Now, captain, your eyes are good, whatever your legs and arms may be. Just keep a sharp look out, and shout 'Ship, ahoy!' the instant you see anything."

"What's that?" cried Harold, suddenly. "I heard a bell. I say, isn't it getting rough; don't pitch me overboard, please. You'd better sit down, Rupert, or you'll take a header. There's no one here to fish you out, and there isn't a towel on board. Stewardess, you'll please to take a month's notice for forgetting them."

With such little jokes we tried to hide the fear which sat heavily on every heart.

"There it is again," said Kathleen, looking eagerly around. "It sounds like a bell."

I raised myself on my elbow. "It must be the bell buoy," I exclaimed. "I have heard father talk about it. It is a great big buoy, painted red and white. There's a bell on the top, and four hammers which swing up against it with the waves."

"Is there danger there?" said Rupert, standing up again, and grasping his oar.

"Not for us, I think. I almost forget; but I think father said it was put to show the steamers their course when they are up the Chiswell to Barford."

"What! is there another river up there? No wonder we have such a tossing. There's the bell again—we must be getting nearer to it. There it is. Ship, ahoy! Why didn't you shout, captain?"

We were making straight for the bell buoy, but I saw that we were also making straight for the open sea. In an instant a prayer came to my lips, and I said aloud: "Oh, God, show us what we ought to do."

Like a direct answer from Heaven, which we all believed it was, Kathleen said, "Tie the boat to the buoy, Rupert."

In the excitement, eager to help, eager to see, I raised myself to my knees, and then dropped back; I had never done so much in my life before.

It was a terrible moment of suspense, and then Rupert almost fell into Kathleen's arms.

"Bravo!" she cried; "you've done it, darling."

He had tied the painter skilfully round the iron frame which supported the bell.

"Yes, it's done, dear; the question is, how long will the rope last. It isn't like being moored to a tree at the side of a river. Oh! I'm tired, I must rest a moment; you two look out, and signal if you see any vessel."

As he spoke he kicked something.

"What a set of idiots we are," said Jack, crawling carefully along the bottom of the boat, which was pitching in a manner fearful to describe.

"Here's the gun; let's fire it till someone sees us."

A bang, a flash, a sharp pain in my hand, and a cry of misery. Shall I ever forget those few minutes? I didn't know where I was hurt at first; but the marvel was we were not all turned into the sea as my cousins rushed to me. If our boat had not been, as Jack said, a regular old tub, you would never have read this tale, for I should never have written it.

The bullet had just grazed my left hand and carried away my little finger. Of course, I have missed it very often since, and groaned over the pain then; but if I had to go through that afternoon's experience again, I would certainly still let that bullet work its mischief. Care for me, staunching the blood, and tearing handkerchiefs into strips to stop the circulation at the wrist, which idea I had gathered from various books of war and bloodshed, all took time and distracted our thoughts for a while from the danger which threatened us all.

"I see a boat!" said Harold, with a gasp of joy.

"Give me the gun, quick," cried Rupert. "Don't be frightened, Edric; I won't hurt you. It is our only hope." Bang, bang, bang—three shots in the air as quickly as possible.

"DON'T BE FRIGHTENED, EDRIC. IT IS OUR ONLY HOPE."

"She sees us, she's turning this way," we cried, with voices in which tears and joy struggled for the mastery.

But we were not yet out of danger. Even as we uttered that cry, we gave another.

"Look! the rope is broken. We are adrift!"

CHAPTER VI.
Punishment and Escape.

It was ten o'clock when we were driven through the gates of our home. Father had only just returned from London, so he had been spared the long hours of agony which mother had passed after missing us at the usual tea hour.

What a miserable party we must have looked as one by one we got out of the cart. Of course, I was last; and as father lifted me in his arms, he caught sight of my hand, which had been bandaged by the doctor at Craigstown, and was now in a sling.

"It's only my little finger, father," I said; "I shan't miss it." Then I remembered that, of course, he knew nothing that had happened, and said no more. No prisoners in the dock ever felt more wretched than we did, as we stood in the dining-room wondering what would be our fate. My gentle mother came to the rescue.

"I'm sure you must all be starved; eat your supper first, and then tell us what you have been doing."

I tried to eat; but every mouthful seemed to choke me, and mother's sorrowful look at my maimed hand, and tenderly whispered words of love were almost too much for me to bear. I felt how wicked I had been to give her such pain as she must have borne since she went upstairs and found our den empty, then heard from one of the farm labourers that he had seen us in the boat.

My cousins were stronger in mind and body than I was; and although they looked conscience-stricken enough, they managed to eat a hearty supper. When the things were cleared away, father put down his newspaper, and called us to account.

"Now, what have you to say for yourselves?" he asked, in a stern voice.

I looked up and began to speak, but Rupert stepped forward and silenced me.

"I'm the eldest," he said, "and all the blame is mine. I'll tell you about it, sir."

Something in the honest face, now pale with fatigue and excitement, yet made noble by its fearless expression, seemed to touch us all.

"You'd better sit down," said father, less sternly; but Rupert took no notice. With eager words, which seemed to come rushing out, he described our adventures as far as you know them.

"When the rope broke," he continued, "I thought it was all up with us. Edric fainted for the second time, and I thought he was dead. I knelt down then and prayed God to forgive me for what I had done, and let me die, too, and to take the others safe home; but the fishing smack came along almost directly, and one of the sailors caught hold of our boat. They lifted us all into their boat; and we lay down amongst the fishes and nets and lines, and went to sleep, I believe, till they landed us at Craigstown pier. One man, Philip they called him, took Edric to the doctor to have his hand done. It had begun bleeding again almost directly we got in the boat; but Philip bound it up splendidly. Then we got into that cart, and here we are. I don't know what you mean to do to us, uncle; but I'd like to tell you we are all bitterly sorry, and will go back to school tomorrow if you wish it."

"That won't put Edric's finger on again, or cure his back if you have hurt it by those hours of exposure. Do you know he hardly ever goes out except in the long perambulator, which is pushed as gently as possible?"

"Please, uncle," said Jack, who had been fretting at the long silence to which Rupert had condemned him, "I don't think we did him any harm, except about his finger. He knelt up in the boat once."

"Perhaps you'll try to make me believe that he can do better with nine fingers than ten. Well, you can go to bed now. I cannot send you back to school because Mr. Barton has gone abroad and there is no one there, so you will have to remain here for the rest of the holidays. You have prepared means of barricading your tower-room; I shall use them on the outside instead of your using them on the inside. You will be locked in there for two days. Your meals will be brought to you, and you will be let out to go to bed; but until Thursday night you are my prisoners; and I expect you to be honourable ones." Father glanced at Rupert as he spoke; but Rupert made no sign.

"Will Edric come, too?" asked Kathleen.

"Not exactly. I think he has been punished enough. You will not see Edric till you are released from prison. You can all go now; good-night."

With bent heads and dejected steps my cousins left the room, but mother went after them; and I heard afterwards that she did not say good-night to them till she had joined them in asking God's forgiveness, and in thanking Him for the great mercy shown to us all.

What a wretched day the next one was for me. I could not read, and I hardly felt inclined to talk even to mother. I thought of the prisoners in the tower-room, and wondered what they were doing. The day was so long, and my hand was rather painful, so that at last when tea-time came I felt quite cross and miserable.

"Don't you think I might go upstairs for a few minutes," I said to mother when she came in with her bonnet on; "it's so dull."

"I am sorry, darling, I must go out, but I shall not be gone more than half-an-hour. Here's a book you have not read. The time will soon pass, and you will be able to go upstairs again; but you must not disobey father."

I did try to read, but I could not. I was not quite happy, because I felt that there was something unfair in my cousins being punished and my being let off with only a finger less. At last I turned round on my sofa and had what Jack called "a little weep."

A light touch on my shoulder startled me—Jack stood by my side.

"Oh Jack! how could you?" I whispered; "you have broken your word of honour."

"That's what Rupert says, so he is sticking up in that room, fretting himself to fiddle strings. I never promised anything, and so I'm not bound to stay there. I nearly broke my neck corning down, my foot caught in the ivy. But what do you think I found out? There's a regular ladder up to one of the windows on the side that looks towards the water-mill."

"A ladder! Nonsense; how could a ladder be there without our seeing it?"

"Oh! you matter-of-fact creature. I don't mean a ladder of wood or a ladder of rope thirty yards long. I found that there were little places cut in the bricks just to put your toes in. I counted six of them; but there was a noise, and I didn't dare to count any more. How are you, old man? They all want to know badly; they seem to think we had almost killed you, but I know better—I believe we did you good. I must go now; if uncle found me here he'd eat me."

"Wait a minute. What did you say about those steps? I wonder whether—— Do you know both our servants left last year because they said the place was haunted? Of course it was all rubbish, because there are no such things as ghosts, but nothing that mother could say would make them happy; they said if it wasn't ghosts it was burglars or smugglers, and off they went."

"What a joke!" said Jack, standing close to the window; "that's the way the ghost went up and down, then. Hush! who in the world is that? There's somebody in white creeping among the rhododendron bushes. I'm off. Cooee, cooee!"

The Australian cry sounded weird enough, and I gasped for breath as I saw Jack's figure disappear at full speed among the rhododendrons. An instant afterwards there was a scream, and then dead silence.

CHAPTER VII.
The Mysterious Visitor.

If any one had told me I was a coward, I should have been very indignant, and I think rightly so; but I must confess that I lay and trembled, as I looked through the open window, and wondered who had screamed and what was the matter. The steps in the wall, the white figure skulking among the bushes, and finally the scream; was that not enough material wherewith to make a very nice little chapter of horrors? Never had I so much regretted my helplessness. If I had only been able to walk, nothing would have prevented my going upstairs and telling Rupert that I thought Jack had got into trouble; as it was, I could only exercise my brains for some other way to let him know.

Mother came in just then, and exclaimed at my white face. That was the best thing that could have happened. I made her promise not to get Jack into further trouble, and then I told her all about it. She went into the garden at once, and found him lying on the ground writhing with pain, with his foot caught in a man-trap, which he had himself found in the loft the day before, and put in the path out of mischief, and then forgotten to remove it.

Cautioning him not to struggle, for he would only make the pain greater and get more firmly fixed, she ran to find father, who came with some men to release the prisoner.

"FATHER CAME WITH SOME MEN TO RELEASE THE PRISONER."

Father then carried him into the room where I was lying, and put him on a sofa near me. "It has broken your ankle, I'm afraid," he said, examining Jack's foot carefully. "Send George for the doctor at once, Mary." Then poor father walked up and down the room as if he were worried almost out of his mind.

"I was after the ghost," said Jack, presently, in a timid voice; "I was creeping behind him, and was just close up when my foot was gripped by that thing. I believe I screamed once; if so, he heard me, and won't come again."

"Don't talk such nonsense," said mother, who had returned by this time. "There are no such things as ghosts."

"Of course, I know that," said Jack, recovering a little of his usual spirit. "The ghost I was after wore a white mackintosh coat and a pair of big sailor's boots. I wonder—oh, Edric, do you remember the footmarks in the mud?"

"What of them?" said father, sternly. "Do you remember, young gentleman, that you are a prisoner, and have no business at all out of that room; and here you are with a broken ankle talking nonsense about ghosts and footmarks in the mud. Why did you leave the tower when I told you not to do so?"

"For two reasons, uncle. First, I wanted to see Edric. You see we all like Edric, and we felt——" a little pause, and Jack seemed to choke; "we felt sorry about yesterday. I dreamt of fingers all night, uncle, indeed I did—covered with blood, too."

"Go on," said father, gravely.

"Well, we wanted to know how Edric was. The servant who brought our meals was as dumb as any old monk who had promised never to speak, so we couldn't get anything out of her. I was standing by the window at about eight o'clock, wondering whether I dared climb down the ivy and run round to the dining-room to see Edric, when all of a sudden I saw something moving in the bushes. I put my head out without saying a word to the others, who were all busy writing to tell father and mother how naughty we have been; and what do you think I saw? A man, in a white coat and sailor's slouch hat, beginning to climb up the ivy. I waited till he had got half-way up, and then I sneezed; like this." Jack sneezed so naturally that we all laughed. "That's the way I get the windows shut at school if it's cold. Mother told Mr. Barton to be particularly careful that we didn't catch cold; so when we want the windows shut I just keep on sneezing till he does it."

"What happened next?" asked father, speaking in his natural manner for the first time since our escapade.

Jack's sensitive nature felt the change at once. "You should have seen him," he said, brightly. "He dropped down like a cat, and bolted."

"Did he look up?"

"I don't know. I took my head in quick, for fear he might owe me one if he should ever see me again. I waited a minute, and then climbed down after him. I couldn't see him anywhere, so I went to look at Edric."

Now, although I have told you all that my cousin said without any breaks, you must remember he had a broken ankle, and many times he stopped in great pain in the middle of a sentence. Father noticed this; and as soon as he had heard all that he required, he put his hand on Jack's head and told him to lie quietly till the doctor came.

"You can't think of all the dreadful things I was going to do to you," he said. "You will learn some day that everything we do wrong brings its own punishment. It does not come perhaps directly, as Edric's lost finger and your broken ankle did; but it does come, my boy."

"But he wanted to help you, father," I said, hastily, sorry that my hero should be looked upon as a culprit.

"That was right enough, laddie; but he set to work the wrong way. It is no use doing evil that good may come; good never does come in the end from such work. He should have obeyed me first, and helped me afterwards."

It was a bit of a puzzle to me then; but now that I am older, I know that father was right. As it was, I am afraid that I was not as grieved about Jack's broken ankle as I should have been. For the next few days, at all events, I knew he would be my constant companion, for he would lie on the sofa near me.

Nothing more was said by my parents about our mysterious visitor, though, of course, Jack and I were never tired of talking about him. We made him out to be everything in turns, from a Russian nobleman to a London burglar in disguise.

Thursday evening came, and brought welcome release to the other prisoners in the tower-room; and on Friday morning my two bearers came and carried me off to the den, where we talked till it was a wonder our tongues did not ache.

They had heard nothing about the cause of Jack's accident, and great was their amazement when they were told of the stranger who knew so well the way to the tower-room.

"How long is it since this room was used?" asked Rupert.

"It has never been used that I can remember," I replied. "Mother thought it would make a good playroom for you because it is so far away. When I first came into it with her, it was thick with dust, and had nothing in it but that oak chest and this chair."

"Then I'll be bound that man knows more about it than you do," said Rupert. "You'll find out some day; I only hope it will be whilst we are here."

Chapter VIII headpiece

CHAPTER VIII.
The Oak Chest.

The mysterious visitor was forgotten, my hand had healed, and Jack's ankle was in a fair way to recovery, when a letter arrived from Mr. Barton to say that, owing to his wife's death, he felt he could not return to Bath. He had taken a house at Brighton, but the necessary business of moving would make it impossible for him to receive his pupils at the time fixed. He hoped, therefore, that my father would not object to keeping the boys a fortnight longer.

With what a shout the letter was welcomed! I glanced anxiously at father; he did not look half as displeased as I thought he would. "Can you make yourselves happy till the beginning of September?" he asked.

"Just give us the chance, uncle. We will let you see what we can do. But what about Kathleen? We can't let her go before us?" Rupert looked at me with a mysterious sign.

"No, please father, don't send her away yet. I want her particularly."

"Mischief again?" said father, just catching my knowing look across at Kathleen. "I should have thought you had enough of getting into trouble by this time."

"It isn't mischief, father," I cried. "It's good, it's a beautiful secret, it's——" then I broke down and burst into tears.

It was only then, I think, that my parents realized that I had not done such a thing lately.

"Why, laddie," said father, soothing me gently, "I haven't seen any tears since the invasion of the Goths and Vandals. Here, young Alaric, carry him off, and bring back the smiles. Of course, Kathleen shall stay as long as you do, but I warn you"—and here father's face became very grave—"you have risked my son's life once, you had better not do it twice."

Harold was going to make some reply; but Rupert put his hand hastily over his mouth, and swung him out of the room before he and Kathleen came to lift me.

Whether it was that his foot was much better, or that Jack was delighted at the thought of spending a fortnight more than he expected at the Island Farm, I do not know; but he seemed that day to be possessed of twice his usual spirits. Of course, he was not allowed to put his foot to the ground; but it was cased in plaster of Paris, and he managed to hop with the help of a stick if he really wished to move.

"Now, commodore," said I, at last—for we had pretended he had been wounded in battle—"I wish you would keep still, you give me the fidgets; I know you'll damage that foot again; and you do look so queer hopping about like a wounded stork. I might as well try to get about—I believe I should do it as well."

"So you will, old fellow, only not just yet. Rub, rub, rub, scrub, scrub, scrub, Kathleen, and then he will go like a bird."

"Do keep still," said Rupert, presently. "I've tried three times to make a straight line on this piece of wood, and each time you've shaken the table. What do you want? Tell me, and I'll get it; but don't keep bobbing about like a lame duck."

"That oak chest is bothering me," said Jack, coming to an anchor at last, with his bad foot on the chest itself. "What's inside of it."

"How should I know? You heard Edric say it was here when he first came up. I expect it has old clothes in it. Curiosity killed a cat; and when you know that a cat has nine lives, you can see what a deadly poison curiosity must be. It's a glorious bench to carpenter on; and it makes a good place to lie on, if you are fearfully tired and don't mind pretending you are on a stone bench."

"And it would be a splendid place to——"

"To what?" we all asked, looking up at Jack.

"Never you mind; I know what I know, and I'm not going to tell anybody."

But, unfortunately, he did tell somebody, and that was Harold, who was the very last person who should have been told.

A few days afterwards Jack was not well—it was merely a passing indisposition, headache and cold; but as there was so much difficulty in keeping him quiet when he was up, mother thought it best to make him stay in bed. My parents were both going to spend the afternoon and evening at a friend's house, and so my cousins were told that they need not keep only to their den; they might have the run of the house, if they would promise to do nothing which they knew was wrong, and not to go outside at all, in case they might be tempted to mischief.

"We promise," said Rupert, gravely, and father knew he could trust him.

They carried me into Jack's room directly we were left alone, and there a certain mysterious operation went on, which had occupied us for half an hour twice a day during the last few weeks. A little reading, a good deal of talking, and then Jack said his head was worse; so we all retreated into the dining-room, and wondered what we should play at.

"I know," said Kathleen. "We have permission to go anywhere; let's have a game of hide-and-seek. I believe you'd take half an hour to find me, there are so many ins and outs, and ups and downs."

Of course, I could not join in that game, so I begged them to carry me back into Jack's room, where I lay reading, sometimes aloud, sometimes to myself, till, to my great delight, I saw him fall asleep.

From time to time I could hear a merry peal of laughter in the distance, or the quiet footsteps of someone running past the door in search of a hiding-place. The sounds pleased me, and then I began to wonder whether I should ever be able to join in such a game. Four weeks ago I should have laughed at the bare idea of such a thing; but now, things had changed. My cousins had brought fresh vigour to my mind; and if all were true that they told me, there seemed a hope that they might be the means of bringing new strength to my body.

I lay building castles in the air after a fashion quite new to me. I had got as far as walking to church with mother on my arm when I was a young man, when suddenly the door was pushed gently open, and Rupert whispered, "Have you seen Harold?"

"No; he has not been here."

"I told you he must have gone outside," said Kathleen, peeping over his shoulder.

"Not he," replied Rupert. "Don't you remember we all three promised we would not go out of the house? He must be somewhere inside? let's hunt again."

Half an hour passed, and then my cousins came back. I signalled to them that Jack was still asleep, and they could take me out of the room.

"We can't find him anywhere," said Rupert, as they carried me downstairs.

"Don't be anxious," I replied. "He must have gone outside; he will come back when he finds you do not go after him. Or shall you go into the garden to look for him?"

Rupert looked at me in amazement.

"Didn't I tell you we all promised not to go out?" he said. "I don't believe Harold is outside; if he is, I'll never speak to him again."

Of course, we laughed at the hasty speech which had ended in a promise that the speaker would certainly never keep. But by-and-by, as the light began to fade, and Harold made no appearance, we grew anxious about him.

"Supper will bring him; he will be tired and hungry by that time," we said; but we had finished our supper when the door was pushed open, and Jack entered in dressing-gown and slippers.

"Jane says you have been playing hide-and-seek, and have lost Harold. Have you looked in the oak chest for him?"

"The oak chest?" we all repeated, with a terrified gasp. "If he has been shut in there for a couple of hours he will be dead!"

CHAPTER IX.
The Mystery Deepens.

Never had I longed so eagerly to walk, as I did that evening when all three cousins ran out of the room in pursuit of their missing brother. I had not really been anxious before, for Harold, although only nine years old, was well able to take care of himself, and I had only regretted that he would probably get into trouble again with father for disobedience. It never entered my head that he could possibly be hidden in the house, far less that he should be in the oak chest, which for all I knew was locked up.

The housemaid coming in just then, I begged her to carry me up to the tower-room, putting aside for the moment the fear I had always had, before my cousins came, of trusting myself to any one but father.

When we reached our den the children were standing by the chest, which was open, and was empty.

"He has been here," said Rupert; "see how the things are pressed down."

"I don't believe he could get in," said I; "it isn't long enough."

But my doubts were silenced by Kathleen stooping and lifting from one corner a handkerchief stained with blood, which was still wet.

"This is Harold's!" she cried. "Whatever has happened to him!"

"His nose has been bleeding," said Jack, promptly; "you know it often does. It would be enough to make a mummy's nose bleed to be shut up in that old chest. I wish I had never told him what a splendid place it would be to hide in. It seems I'm always to be at the bottom of the mischief. We shouldn't have gone in that boat if I had not suggested fishing, and Edric would still have had five fingers on each hand if I hadn't fired the gun. Now poor old Harold will get into a scrape for hiding so long, just because I went and showed him how the spring of the chest worked, after I had ferreted it out myself. Halloa, what are you about, Rupert? Don't kill me; I didn't mean any harm."

Rupert had suddenly sprung at Jack, and seizing him by the arm almost screamed out—

"Spring, did you say? Then it can't be opened from the inside."

In another moment Rupert had flung out the few odds and ends of old clothing which were in the bottom of the chest, and sprang into it; as he did so, his heels made a strange, hollow sound, which caught my attention. He was rather tall for his age, and had to double himself up in a way that would have delighted the heart of his gymnasium master before he could say—

"Now shut it down, quick, and I'll see if I can open it; but mind you undo the spring directly I give three knocks."

Of course, he could do nothing; the box could only be opened from the outside by pressing the springs. We were glad enough to reply, to his signal, and release the prisoner. Then we all stood with puzzled faces looking at the open chest.

"What have you been up to?" said a cheery voice, and never were we more relieved to see my mother. She listened gravely and quietly to our account.

"If he has really been in that box, and the handkerchief certainly seems to prove it, then some one must have got him out. Perhaps one of the servants did. Let us go and inquire. You had better all come downstairs; you look as white as the miller. There's nothing much to be frightened at, after all. If Harold were able to get out of the chest, he certainly was not smothered. As to his nose bleeding, you know that won't hurt him. Perhaps he is asleep in bed; have you looked?"

"We've ransacked every room in the house, and the servants have not seen him since six o'clock."

Ten o'clock came, and with his usual punctuality father sounded the gong for prayers. He insisted on doing it with the outer doors wide open, so that if Harold were within earshot, he would be reminded that it was bedtime. I had never been up to evening prayers before; and as I lay with my hands clasped, I looked out for a moment to the calm summer sky. There was a glorious moon, which made a path of silver among the rhododendron bushes. It all looked very beautiful, and my heart joined with delight in the words of thanksgiving which father was speaking. Then he went on to pray that we might all be guarded through the night; I thought of Harold, and said, Amen. I had said my prayers night and morning ever since I was old enough to know Who it was to whom I owed everything, but I am sure I had never really prayed before. A change came over me that evening; God seemed nearer to me, I seemed nearer to Him, and I realised fully for the first time that He was my loving Father and King.

My eyes were closed for a moment in earnest, silent prayer; when I opened them again—could it possibly be fancy?—I thought I saw a figure going swiftly down the rhododendron path.

"The ghost!" I cried, not waiting till the family were off their knees; "there's Jack's ghost again!"

Father ran out of the window; but, of course, as he had not seen the mysterious visitor when he came before, he did not know which way he went, and turned to the left. That gave the man a start; and although I called out to father which way to go, he did not succeed in finding any one.

We all waited in intense excitement till father came back; and then the finishing touch to our evening was given by our young coachman coming in with a broad grin on his face, without even waiting to knock at the door.

"If you please, mum, Master Harold's sitting on my bed. I think he's summat light-headed, for he keeps on asking how he got there, and declares that he was in the oak chest and couldn't get out. Do you mind coming to see him, mum?"

Robert had been out all the evening with my parents, and had only had time to attend to the horse and put the carriage away when the gong sounded for prayers, so he had not been in his room, which was above the coach-house, since he dressed at four o'clock. Rupert and Kathleen did a dance of delight round the table; while Jack, who was still attired in his dressing-gown, had to content himself with playing the castanets with his fingers and whistling.

"What a funny go," he cried, when his brother and sister had dropped breathless into the one big armchair. "Listen! What do you say to my ghost being the one who rescued him? If so, he must have left Robert's room when you saw him, Edric. Oh dear, what a thing it is to feel like a bottle of ginger beer, and yet have to behave as if you were as flat as ditch water, owing to your stupid foot." Then, with his usual sensitiveness, Jack felt that he had said something which might hurt me, and hastened to mend it.

"That's my own fault, isn't it, Edric? And that's just why it's harder to bear. Virtue is its own reward, they say, and so is wickedness. Here he comes! 'I've waited long for you, my man; Oh, welcome safe to land,'" he sang, gently, as Harold came in, holding mother's hand and looking rather bewildered.

"Now, young man," said father, "give an account of yourself. What do you mean by disobeying me and going out of the house when you promised not, and harrowing the hearts of your brothers and sister and all your relations?"

"Please, uncle, I didn't go out of the house," said Harold, earnestly.

CHAPTER X.
How the Stranger Helped.

"Curiouser and curiouser," quoted Jack, from Alice in Wonderland; but we were all too astonished to laugh at his droll face. "I specs he walked in his sleep."

Harold looked angrily at his elder brother. "I promised I would not go out of the house, and I didn't."

"Coach-house doesn't count, I suppose," remarked Rupert, who was, I fancy, a little annoyed by the uneasiness we had all felt.

"Don't tease him, my boy," said father, kindly; "let him tell his story in his own fashion."

Thus encouraged, Harold sat down, and told us that he had got into the oak chest to hide.

"I thought, of course, that you would hear me when I called, but you didn't seem to come into that room at all."

"We did go there," said Kathleen; "but you know there is no place to hide there but the cupboard, and that had been left wide open by Rupert when he hid there at the beginning of the game. So we just ran up the stairs, put our heads in and saw that the room and cupboard were empty, and then ran off to what we thought were more likely places."

"Then that's why I did not hear your footsteps. The wood must be fearfully thick. I lay still till I began to feel suffocated, and then I tried to get out. I tried and tried, I pushed with my hands, then I lay on my back and pressed with my knees and kicked with my feet. It wasn't a bit of good, I only hurt myself and got more choky. Then my nose began to bleed, and I gave up trying, and lay with my face to the side of the chest. Oh, it was horrible, auntie! I thought that I should die; and I wondered how long you would be before you found me, and what poor father and mother would say when they heard about it."

"There, there, don't pile it on," said Jack, rubbing his hand across his eyes; "tell us how you got out, that's what we want to know. Anyone could get in and be choked; but it's a regular Maskelyne and Cooke's dodge to get out again instead."

"I can't tell you, I don't remember anything till I woke up in bed in a strange room. I know now it was Robert's. Your new man gave me a sandwich and something out of a little bottle, and I——"

"My new man?" repeated father, with his eyes wide open. "Why, I haven't one in the place that has been here less than five years."

"Oh! perhaps I made a mistake," said Harold, rather wearily; "I didn't know his face, so I thought he must be a stranger. He had a white coat on like a coachman, and——"

"Hurrah!" cried Jack, "my mysterious stranger went to the rescue. Could he talk English, Harold? Was he very furious?"

"He was very kind; but he didn't speak once, I remember. He bathed my face with water out of Robert's basin, and I noticed that he kept looking out of the window. Then I heard a noise like a bell; and he went to the window, stood there a minute, then he waved his hand to me, and unlocked the door and went."

"Why had he locked the door?"

"How can I tell?"

"How did you see all this in the dark?"

"The moon shone right in at the window. I don't know who the man was, if uncle says he was not one of the servants; but I'm very tired, and don't want to talk any more."

So we all were; but I am afraid if there had been any one sleeping in my little room I should have talked all night about our mysterious stranger.

The next morning things went on much as usual, till Kathleen and Rupert came to carry me upstairs. Then you would have laughed if you could have heard all the wild guesses we made as to the identity of our strange visitor.

"Let's have a good look at that chest," said Rupert, when Kathleen had declared she had done with it for the present.

"Your heels made a very queer sound in it last night, Rupert," I said. "Only for pity's sake let somebody sit on the edge of it whilst it is open. I don't want you to be guillotined or smothered."

Harold perched himself in such a manner that the lid could not possibly fall, and dangled his legs against the side. It was a wonderful old chest, and we have it still in our house. It is made of black oak, is just five feet long, and about two feet wide.

"I know," said Rupert, presently, springing out of the box. "Where's the foot rule?"

"What's the joke now?" said Harold. "Are you going to measure it to see if there's room for the mysterious stranger to hide in?"

"That's it," exclaimed Rupert, disdaining to answer his brother's remark. "That's it. There's a false bottom to it. Look! it measures twenty inches inside and twenty-five outside. Let's break it open; we shall find a treasure, perhaps. No wonder my heels rattled when I got in last night."

"If it rattles," said Jack, sagaciously, "there isn't much inside. But let's see if we can open it."

They pushed and knocked in turns, but it was useless; they only grew tired and cross.

For once my studious life gave me an advantage over them. I remembered that in all the wonderful tales I had read of hidden chambers and secret drawers, there was no force required to open them. I reminded my cousins of this. "There's some little trick about it; some panel or hidden spring. You will be more likely to find it just when you least expect."

"Get along, you stupid old thing," said Harold, losing patience; "I'm sick of you." As he spoke he sprang from his perch and administered a kick to the obstinate box. Kathleen was holding the lid on the opposite side, and saw the bottom of the box move.

"Look, look," she cried, "it is opening!"

It did not spring up, it merely stood just enough away from the box for Rupert to put his fingers under it and lift it out bodily. A low groan of disappointment escaped us all. They had pulled my chair close to the chest, and I was able to look into it as well, and certainly shared in the groan. I can't say what we had expected. It may have been gold, it may have been treasures of another kind. Most certainly we none of us had expected to see a few packets of papers, yellow with age, and covered with dust.

So engrossed had we been that we had not noticed a step in the room; and when Rupert raised himself from the chest with a bundle of papers in his hand, declaring he would take them to uncle, my blood seemed to stand still and my heart almost to jump into my mouth when a voice, with a strong French accent, said—

"Not too fast, young gentleman; those papers belong to me."

"NOT TOO FAST, YOUNG GENTLEMAN; THOSE PAPERS BELONG TO ME."

By the side of my couch, almost touching me, stood the man whom we had named Jack's Ghost!

CHAPTER XI.
A Day of Surprises.

"Are you better, now?" said the stranger, laying his hand on Harold's shoulder.

"Yes, thank you," replied Harold, jerking himself away, while Rupert gave expression to what we all felt and thought.

"I wish you'd go about like other people, instead of sneaking up the sides of walls." As he spoke he went to the window. "Uncle George!" he shouted at the top of his voice. An answer came from a distance. "Make haste up here, there's a man who wants to see you."

"I pity him if he is in your den," father called out merrily, after about two minutes during which time we had all been perfectly silent, Kathleen and Harold keeping a strict guard over the chest by sitting on it.

It seemed to me a fearful time before father's footstep sounded on the stairs. I almost expected to see the stranger bolt out of the window, but he did not. He stood as still as if he had been cut in marble, until the door opened, and father entered with some joke on his lips which was never uttered.

The mysterious stranger took his hat from his head, and father gazed at him for one brief second, then held out both his hands.

"FATHER GAZED AT HIM FOR ONE SECOND, THEN HELD OUT
BOTH HIS HANDS."

"What! you, Joe?"

"Yes, I, George."

The words meant little enough, but the tone spoke volumes, and, to our terrible distress, the stranger dropped on the oak chest and was convulsed with sobs.

"Right about face, quick march," whispered Jack, hopping off as well as he could. "Look after the baggage."

The baggage meaning me, Rupert and Kathleen seized me with a rapidity which would have terrified me a month back; and in less time than it takes to write, we had made our retreat in disorder, and the enemy were left in possession.

"Never no more," said Jack, whom we found resting on one of the landings, "will I pass my days in that den. I shan't have nerve enough to face a cricket-ball when I get back to school. To think that the ghost, the mysterious stranger, the rescuer of my beloved brother, should be called Joe, and be on speaking terms with my uncle! After that, no more mysteries for me. I mean to live in the dining-room, and devote myself to bread and butter."

"That's all providing that father will let you," I said.

"No, it isn't. He will have to let me. I feel like the poultry in the farmer's yard, who declared 'twas hard that their nerves should be shaken, and their rest be marred by the visit of Mr. Ghost. Oh, I'll go to Brighton, if uncle likes; but pass the rest of my days in the tower-room, I won't."

A burst of laughter restored Jack's good temper, and then we all went into the dining-room and told mother about everything. I'm a good deal older now than I was then, but I have not yet got out of the way of wanting to rush off to tell mother everything. Happy are the youngsters who have such a mother as I have, and who try all their lives never to do or say anything that they would be afraid or ashamed to tell her. Let me see, I said "rush off," did I not? and I meant it; though at the time I am speaking about, I was dependent on other people's rushing instead of my own.

Mother was nearly as excited as we were about the stranger, only she seemed to know a little more about him.

"Your father had a half-brother named Joseph," she said; "his mother was a Frenchwoman, and when she died her little boy was sent by your grandfather to stay with her relations in France."

"But why has father never mentioned him?" I asked.

"There was some unhappiness about him, dear, and you know your father never speaks about anything like that. He bears it all, and says nothing. Take care, Edric! what are you going to do?"

"Take hold of me, mother."

Slowly and carefully I drew my legs round, and then, leaning on her arm, with Rupert on the other side of me I put them to the ground. Of course, it was but a poor attempt at walking, but still, it was an attempt, and mother seemed utterly amazed. Nothing ever happens just as one has expected and planned it; I had so often gone through that little scene in my mind, and yet I had not the least intention of acting it that day.

"Well done, my darling, well done! How came you to think of trying that? Why, you will walk as well as I do some day."

"It is all Kathleen's doing," I said, still standing propped up by their arms, and wondering at the peculiar feeling in my feet. "She had seen a child cured in Australia by doing a few exercises daily. She had watched very carefully, and was sure she could do me good if I would only persevere. So she has made me do them twice every day, for half an hour, for five weeks."

"But that was what the doctor ordered for you, darling; and you cried and said the woman hurt you, so we had to leave it off."

"I know, mother," I said, colouring, for I was ashamed of myself now; "but in those days I did not really feel as if I cared to move about. I would rather not walk at all than be hurt as that woman hurt me. Now, Kathleen is different; she has not hurt me once, and yet she would not let me off a minute before the half-hour."

"Mary! Mary!" said father's voice, "I want you for a moment." He pushed the door open and stood transfixed.

"What! Edric trying to walk? This is a day of surprises. Whose doing is that?"

"Kathleen's," I said, making a sign to mother that I wanted to go back to my couch again. Father came into the room and looked gravely at me.

"Do you know, laddie," he said, seriously. "I have found out that there is one thing in this world which always brings a reward, and that is unselfishness. It's your mother that's unselfish, not I. If it had not been for her, I should never have consented to have your cousins here. I hated the thought of it, and only consented to please her. Wow see the reward we have got, far beyond what I, at least, deserve; my little helpless laddie is going to try to be like other children, and my half-brother is restored to his inheritance. Come and see him, Mary; I'll tell you all about it presently, children."

CHAPTER XII.
The Lost Will

We spent the rest of that day in a state of effervescence. No one seemed to be able to settle down to anything; and we were so excited that even dinner had little attraction, especially as we were told that father and mother and the strange gentleman had driven off to Colchester.

"So we shall dine here, then," said Rupert, with a look at Jack, who had fixed himself in an armchair in a most determined attitude; "unless you prefer going up to the tower-room."

"Never again," said Jack, gravely; "uncle says we've done him good, and when he comes back I mean to ask for our reward. 'Tis a very good den that we live in, to laugh, or to talk, or to play in; but to hide or to think, or to be quite alone, 'tis the very worst den that ever was known."

"Bravo, Jack! poor old Hudibras wouldn't know his own lines if he were here. Give us some more of that sort of thing to make the time pass till uncle comes home. I'm just burning with curiosity."

A glass of cold water down his back, under pretence of extinguishing him, ended in the aggressor being put out himself.

It seemed a long day in spite of all the fun we managed to get in one way or another; but "be the day weary, be the day long, at length it ringeth to evensong," and about seven o'clock we heard the horse's feet in the yard, and my parents came in alone. Even then we had, of course, to wait a short time before they were ready to tell us what we were longing to hear.

"Now I'll tell you all about the mysterious stranger," said father, at last. "But I am tired, and you must not interrupt me. You will have plenty of time to ask questions another day. It is just fifteen years since my half-brother Joe was in this room. His mother died when he was about three years old, and at her request your grandfather sent the little fellow over to Normandy to be brought up by his mother's brother. This brother was a very rich man, and when my father married again he offered to adopt Joe, bring him up as his own son, and leave him all he possessed, if my father would consent. He would not, however, do this, and insisted on Joe returning home at once, so one of my first recollections is being carried about by my big brother Joe. As I got older I used to spend most of my days in the tower-room, where Joe was always busy with some carpentering, or work of one kind or another. Your grandfather was a severe man, very harsh in his management of children, and Joe often resented what he considered his unkindness. That oak chest, which was nearly the cause of your death the other night, Harold, was the cause of our separation. One day the French count came to stay with our father, and Joe, who was really very fond of him, owing to having spent his early years with him, wanted to go back with him; but our father would not consent. Joe tells me now that he distinctly heard the Frenchman say, 'Well, I've made my will in his favour, and I shall leave it with you. I've made you executor, and when I am dead you will let the boy come over to Normandy. It's a pity you won't let him go back with me, for there are people who would like to oust him out of his property if they could.'

"Years passed away, and one day, when Joe had been imprisoned in the tower-room for some naughtiness, he ran away, climbing down by those very steps that he climbed up yesterday, and which he had made when quite a youngster, to be able to get in or out of his play-room as he liked. I said your grandfather was a harsh man; and when he heard of Joe's flight, he knew of course he had gone to Normandy, and he made a solemn vow that Joe should never enter the house again. I was about twelve then, and old enough to see that, however harsh my father might be, he really loved his elder son. He was never the same again, and one morning we found him struck by paralysis. He recovered consciousness before he died, and seemed anxious to tell us something, but he could neither write nor speak distinctly, though I fancy he wanted to say something about Joe. My mother and I lived alone here, writing occasionally to Normandy, but never expecting to see Joe again. One day, fifteen years ago, I was sitting writing, when a servant came to say that a stranger had called, and had pushed past her, saying he wanted to go to the tower-room. Running upstairs quickly, I found your Uncle Joe kneeling at the oak chest, which stood open. I was angry at his impertinence, and seizing him by the collar as he knelt, I shook him violently and reproached him with killing our father, and then coming into the house in that fashion. He was pale with anger; but he is a noble character, in spite of all his faults. He remembered that we were brothers, and would not strike me. 'I came to see if I could find the Count D'Arcy's will,' he said; 'a cousin of his claims the estate, and I have nothing to prove that he made me his heir. I know the Count gave it to our father.' 'And I know that our father forbade you to enter the house while he was alive. I shall not allow it now he is dead. Go!' I replied, pointing to the door. He went, and I have never seen him till to-day."

"What has he been doing all these years?" I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer.

"He has been working hard and making a name for himself at Rouen, while the Count's cousin has been squandering the estate. From time to time, he tells me, he has come over to England, stayed at the Watermill, with the old woman who nursed him as a baby, and made occasional visits to the tower-room in search of the will which was to restore him to his rights, going and coming always by means of those steps."

"Whatever made him think of that place?" said Jack, finding that my interruption was unreproved.

"He says that he remembered your grandfather telling some one that there was a false bottom in the oak chest which made a splendid hiding-place. He had tried several times to get it open, but he had never succeeded. The last time he tried was on that evening when he heard from old Jane that we had gone to Colchester. When he opened the lid of the chest he found Harold inside quite unconscious and almost suffocated. Of course, he knew the ways of the house; so he carried him to the coachman's room, where he stayed with him till the gong sounded for prayers."

"Then they were his footmarks we saw in the mud," cried Rupert. "What a joke. Don't you tell him I said they were nineteens. What is he like? Is he very cross?"

"Here he comes, so you can judge for yourselves," said mother, opening the door to admit our new-found uncle, who turned out to be just as jolly as any boys could wish.

* * * * *

Years passed by. Uncle Joe, by means of the will, which was hidden in the oak chest, came into possession of a beautiful little estate in Normandy, where we all spent many happy days with our French cousins, for he had married a Frenchwoman. I say we, because, thanks to my cousins' good influence on mind and body, I became as strong as any one could expect, and was able to enjoy school life in a quiet way, though never fit for rough games, and always rather sensitive about the slight hump on my back.

Never shall I forget my grief when those first holidays were over, and father and mother and I stood at the door to wave our farewells.

"God bless you, children," said father; "you've done us all good."

"Then you don't wish the savages had never come, uncle," shouted Jack, with a merry smile.

"No, no, no!" replied father; and then the carriage went out of sight, though the sounds of the Australian "cooee" reached us for some minutes afterwards.

THE END.

LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, ALDERSGATE, E.C.

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Table of Contents

- OUR DEN

- CHAPTER I. The Savages are Expected.

- CHAPTER II. They Arrive—Unexpectedly.

- CHAPTER III. Our Den is Fortified

- CHAPTER IV. Fish or Fowl for Supper.

- CHAPTER V. Tied to the Bell Buoy.

- CHAPTER VI. Punishment and Escape.

- CHAPTER VII. The Mysterious Visitor.

- CHAPTER VIII. The Oak Chest.

- CHAPTER IX. The Mystery Deepens.

- CHAPTER X. How the Stranger Helped.

- CHAPTER XI. A Day of Surprises.

- CHAPTER XII. The Lost Will

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE