II
THE MIXED MINE
The ship was first sighted off Dungeness. She was labouring heavily. Herpaint was peculiar and her rig outlandish. She looked like a golden shipout of a painted picture.
'Blessed if I ever see such a rig--nor such lines neither,' oldHawkhurst said.
It was a late afternoon, wild and grey. Slate-coloured clouds droveacross the sky like flocks of hurried camels. The waves were purple andblue, and in the west a streak of unnatural-looking green light was allthat stood for the splendours of sunset.
'She do be a rum 'un,' said young Benenden, who had strolled along thebeach with the glasses the gentleman gave him for saving the little boyfrom drowning. 'Don't know as I ever see another just like her.'
'I'd give half a dollar to any chap as can tell me where she hailsfrom--and what port it is where they has ships o' that cut,' saidmiddle-aged Haversham to the group that had now gathered.
'George!' exclaimed young Benenden from under his field-glasses, 'she'sgoing.' And she went. Her bow went down suddenly and she stood stern upin the water--like a duck after rain. Then quite slowly, with nounseemly hurry, but with no moment's change of what seemed to be herfixed purpose, the ship sank and the grey rolling waves wiped out theplace where she had been.
Now I hope you will not expect me to tell you anything more about thisship--because there is nothing more to tell. What country she came from,what port she was bound for, what cargo she carried, and what kind oftongue her crew spoke--all these things are dead secrets. And a deadsecret is a secret that nobody knows. No other secrets are dead secrets.Even I do not know this one, or I would tell you at once. For I, atleast, have no secrets from you.
Her bow went down suddenly.]
When ships go down off Dungeness, things from them have a way of beingwashed up on the sands of that bay which curves from Dungeness toFolkestone, where the sea has bitten a piece out of the land--just sucha half-moon-shaped piece as you bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter.Bits of wood tangled with ropes--broken furniture--ships' biscuits inbarrels and kegs that have held brandy--seamen's chests--and sometimessadder things that we will not talk about just now.
Now, if you live by the sea and are grown-up you know that if you findanything on the seashore (I don't mean starfish or razor-shells orjellyfish and sea-mice, but anything out of a ship that you would reallylike to keep) your duty is to take it up to the coast-guard and say,'Please, I've found this.' Then the coast-guard will send it to theproper authority, and one of these days you'll get a reward of one-thirdof the value of whatever it was that you picked up. But two-thirds ofthe value of anything, or even three-thirds of its value, is not at allthe same thing as the thing itself--if it happened to be the kind ofthing you want. But if you are not grown-up and do not live by the sea,but in a nice little villa in a nice little suburb, where all thefurniture is new and the servants wear white aprons and white caps withlong strings in the afternoon, then you won't know anything about yourduty, and if you find anything by the sea you'll think that findings arekeepings.
Edward was not grown-up--and he kept everything he found, includingsea-mice, till the landlady of the lodgings where his aunt was threw hiscollection into the pig-pail.
Being a quiet and persevering little boy he did not cry or complain,but having meekly followed his treasures to their long home--the pigwas six feet from nose to tail, and ate the dead sea-mouse as easilyand happily as your father eats an oyster--he started out to make a newcollection.
And the first thing he found was an oyster-shell that was pink and greenand blue inside, and the second was an old boot--very old indeed--andthe third was _it_.
It was a square case of old leather embossed with odd little figures ofmen and animals and words that Edward could not read. It was oblong andhad no key, but a sort of leather hasp, and was curiously knotted withstring--rather like a boot-lace. And Edward opened it. There wereseveral things inside: queer-looking instruments, some rather like thosein the little box of mathematical instruments that he had had as a prizeat school, and some like nothing he had ever seen before. And in a deepgroove of the russet soaked velvet lining lay a neat little brasstelescope.
T-squares and set-squares and so forth are of little use on a sandyshore. But you can always look through a telescope.
Edward picked it out and put it to his eye, and tried to see through ita little tug that was sturdily puffing up Channel. He failed to find thetug, and found himself gazing at a little cloud on the horizon. As helooked it grew larger and darker, and presently a spot of rain fell onhis nose. He rubbed it off--on his jersey sleeve, I am sorry to say, andnot on his handkerchief. Then he looked through the glass again; but hefound he needed both hands to keep it steady, so he set down the boxwith the other instruments on the sand at his feet and put the glass tohis eye again.
He never saw the box again. For in his unpractised efforts to cover thetug with his glass he found himself looking at the shore instead of atthe sea, and the shore looked so odd that he could not make up his mindto stop looking at it.
He had thought it was a sandy shore, but almost at once he saw that itwas not sand but fine shingle, and the discovery of this mistakesurprised him so much that he kept on looking at the shingle through thelittle telescope, which showed it quite plainly. And as he looked theshingle grew coarser; it was stones now--quite decent-sized stones,large stones, enormous stones.
Something hard pressed against his foot, and he lowered the glass.
He was surrounded by big stones, and they all seemed to be moving; somewere tumbling off others that lay in heaps below them, and others wererolling away from the beach in every direction. And the place where hehad put down the box was covered with great stones which he could notmove.
Edward was very much upset. He had never been accustomed to great stonesthat moved about when no one was touching them, and he looked round forsome one to ask how it had happened.
The only person in sight was another boy in a blue jersey with redletters on its chest.
'Hi!' said Edward, and the boy also said 'Hi!'
'Come along here,' said Edward, 'and I'll show you something.'
'Right-o!' the boy remarked, and came.
The boy was staying at the camp where the white tents were below theGrand Redoubt. His home was quite unlike Edward's, though he also livedwith his aunt. The boy's home was very dirty and very small, and nothingin it was ever in its right place. There was no furniture to speak of.The servants did not wear white caps with long streamers, because therewere no servants. His uncle was a dock-labourer and his aunt went outwashing. But he had felt just the same pleasure in being shown thingsthat Edward or you or I might have felt, and he went climbing over thebig stones to where Edward stood waiting for him in a sort of pit amongthe stones with the little telescope in his hand.
'I say,' said Edward, 'did you see any one move these stones?'
'I ain't only just come up on to the sea-wall,' said the boy, who wascalled Gustus.
'They all came round me,' said Edward, rather pale. 'I didn't see anyone shoving them.'
'Who're you a-kiddin' of?' the boy inquired.
'But I _did_,' said Edward, 'honour bright I did. I was just taking asquint through this little telescope I've found--and they came rollingup to me.'
'Let's see what you found,' said Gustus, and Edward gave him the glass.He directed it with inexpert fingers to the sea-wall, so little troddenthat on it the grass grows, and the sea-pinks, and even convolvulus andmock-strawberry.
'Oh, look!' cried Edward, very loud. 'Look at the grass!'
Gustus let the glass fall to long arm's length and said 'Krikey!'
The grass and flowers on the sea-wall had grown a foot and ahalf--quite tropical they looked.
'Well?' said Edward.
'What's the matter wiv everyfink?' said Gustus. 'We must both be a bitbalmy, seems ter me.'
'What's balmy?' asked Edward.
'Off your chump--looney--like what you and m
e is,' said Gustus. 'First Isees things, then I sees you.'
'It was only fancy, I expect,' said Edward. 'I expect the grass on thesea-wall was always like that, really.'
'Let's have a look through your spy-glass at that little barge,' saidGustus, still holding the glass. 'Come on outer these 'erepaving-stones.'
'There was a box,' said Edward, 'a box I found with lots of jolly thingsin it. I laid it down somewhere--and----'
'Ain't that it over there?' Gustus asked, and levelled the glass at adark object a hundred yards away. 'No; it's only an old boot. I say,this is a fine spy-glass. It does make things come big.'
'That's not it. I'm certain I put it down somewhere just here. Oh,_don't_!'
'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed.]
He snatched the glass from Gustus.
'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed.
A hundred yards away stood a boot about as big as the bath you see Maratin at Madame Tussaud's.
'S'welp me,' said Gustus, 'we're asleep, both of us, and a-dreaming asthings grow while we look at them.'
'But we're not dreaming,' Edward objected. 'You let me pinch you andyou'll see.'
'No fun in that,' said Gustus. 'Tell you what--it's thespy-glass--that's what it is. Ever see any conjuring? I see a chap atthe Mile End Empire what made things turn into things like winking. It'sthe spy-glass, that's what it is.'
'It can't be,' said the little boy who lived in a villa.
'But it _is_,' said the little boy who lived in a slum. 'Teacher saysthere ain't no bounds to the wonders of science. Blest if this ain't oneof 'em.'
'Let me look,' said Edward.
'All right; only you mark me. Whatever you sets eyes on'll grow andgrow--like the flower-tree the conjurer had under the wipe. Don't youlook at _me_, that's all. Hold on; I'll put something up for you to lookat--a mark like--something as doesn't matter.'
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a boot-lace.
'I hold this up,' he said, 'and you look.'
Next moment he had dropped the boot-lace, which, swollen as it was withthe magic of the glass, lay like a snake on the stone at his feet.
So the glass _was_ a magic glass, as, of course, you know already.
'My!' said Gustus, 'wouldn't I like to look at my victuals through thatthere!'
* * * * *
Thus we find Edward, of the villa--and through him Gustus, of theslum--in possession of a unique instrument of magic. What could they dowith it?
This was the question which they talked over every time they met, andthey met continually. Edward's aunt, who at home watched him as catswatch mice, rashly believed that at the seaside there was no mischieffor a boy to get into. And the gentleman who commanded the tented campbelieved in the ennobling effects of liberty.
After the boot, neither had dared to look at anything through thetelescope--and so they looked _at_ it, and polished it on their sleevestill it shone again.
Both were agreed that it would be a fine thing to get some money andlook at it, so that it would grow big. But Gustus never had anypocket-money, and Edward had had his confiscated to pay for a window hehad not intended to break.
Gustus felt certain that some one would find out about the spy-glass andtake it away from them. His experience was that anything you happened tolike was always taken away. Edward knew that his aunt would want to takethe telescope away to 'take care of' for him. This had already happenedwith the carved chessmen that his father had sent him from India.
'I been thinking,' said Gustus, on the third day. 'When I'm a man I'ma-going to be a burglar. You has to use your headpiece in that trade, Itell you. So I don't think thinking's swipes, like some blokes do. And Ithink p'r'aps it don't turn everything big. An' if we could find outwhat it don't turn big we could see what we wanted to turn big or whatit didn't turn big, and then it wouldn't turn anything big except whatwe wanted it to. See?'
Edward did not see; and I don't suppose you do, either.
So Gustus went on to explain that teacher had told him there were somesubstances impervious to light, and some to cold, and so on and soforth, and that what they wanted was a substance that should beimpervious to the magic effects of the spy-glass.
'So if we get a tanner and set it on a plate and squint at it it'll getbigger--but so'll the plate. And we don't want to litter the place upwith plates the bigness of cartwheels. But if the plate didn't get bigwe could look at the tanner till it covered the plate, and then go onlooking and looking and looking and see nothing but the tanner till itwas as big as a circus. See?'
This time Edward did see. But they got no further, because it was timeto go to the circus. There was a circus at Dymchurch just then, and thatwas what made Gustus think of the sixpence growing to that size.
It was a very nice circus, and all the boys from the camp went toit--also Edward, who managed to scramble over and wriggle under benchestill he was sitting near his friend.
Far above him and every one else towered the elephant.]
It was the size of the elephant that did it. Edward had not seen anelephant before, and when he saw it, instead of saying, 'What a size heis!' as everybody else did, he said to himself, 'What a size I couldmake him!' and pulled out the spy-glass, and by a miracle of good luckor bad got it levelled at the elephant as it went by. He turned theglass slowly--as it went out--and the elephant only just got out intime. Another moment and it would have been too big to get through thedoor. The audience cheered madly. They thought it was a clever trick;and so it would have been, very clever.
'You silly cuckoo,' said Gustus, bitterly, 'now you've turned thatgreat thing loose on the country, and how's his keeper to manage him?'
'I could make the keeper big, too.'
'Then if I was you I should just bunk out and do it.'
Edward obeyed, slipped under the canvas of the circus tent, and foundhimself on the yellow, trampled grass of the field among guy-ropes,orange-peel, banana-skins, and dirty paper. Far above him and every oneelse towered the elephant--it was now as big as the church.
Edward pointed the glass at the man who was patting the elephant'sfoot--that was as far up as he could reach--and telling it to 'Come downwith you!' He was very much frightened. He did not know whether youcould be put in prison for making an elephant's keeper about forty timeshis proper size. But he felt that something must be done to control thegigantic mountain of black-lead-coloured living flesh. So he looked atthe keeper through the spy-glass, and the keeper remained his normalsize!
In the shock of this failure he dropped the spy-glass, picked it up, andtried once more to fix the keeper. Instead he only got a circle ofblack-lead-coloured elephant; and while he was trying to find thekeeper, and finding nothing but more and more of the elephant, a shoutstartled him and he dropped the glass once more. He was a very clumsylittle boy, was Edward.
'Well,' said one of the men, 'what a turn it give me! I thought Jumbo'dgrown as big as a railway station, s'welp me if I didn't.'
'Now that's rum,' said another, 'so did I.'
'And he _ain't_,' said a third; 'seems to me he's a bit below his usualfigure. Got a bit thin or somethink, ain't he?'
Edward slipped back into the tent unobserved.
'It's all right,' he whispered to his friend, 'he's gone back to hisproper size, and the man didn't change at all.'
'Ho!' Gustus said slowly--'Ho! All right. Conjuring's a rum thing. Youdon't never know where you are!'
'Don't you think you might as well be a conjurer as a burglar?'suggested Edward, who had had his friend's criminal future ratherpainfully on his mind for the last hour.
'_You_ might,' said Gustus, 'not me. My people ain't dooks to set me upon any such a swell lay as conjuring. Now I'm going to think, I am. Youhold your jaw and look at the 'andsome Dona a-doin' of 'er gricefulbarebacked hact.'
That evening after tea Edward went, as he had been told to do, to theplace on the shore where the big stones had taught him the magic of thespy-glass.
Gustus was already at the tryst.
'See here,' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to do something brave and fearless, Iam, like Lord Nelson and the boy on the fire-ship. You out with thatspy-glass, an' I'll let you look at _me_. Then we'll know where we are.'
'But s'pose you turn into a giant?'
'Don't care. 'Sides, I shan't. T'other bloke didn't.'
'P'r'aps,' said Edward, cautiously, 'it only works by the seashore.'
'Ah,' said Gustus, reproachfully, 'you've been a-trying to think, that'swhat you've been a-doing. What about the elephant, my emernentscientister? Now, then!'
Very much afraid, Edward pulled out the glass and looked.
And nothing happened.
'That's number one,' said Gustus, 'now, number two.'
He snatched the telescope from Edward's hand, and turned it round andlooked through the other end at the great stones. Edward, standing by,saw them get smaller and smaller--turn to pebbles, to beach, to sand.When Gustus turned the glass to the giant grass and flowers on thesea-wall, they also drew back into themselves, got smaller and smaller,and presently were as they had been before ever Edward picked up themagic spy-glass.
'Now we know all about it--I _don't_ think,' said Gustus. 'To-morrowwe'll have a look at that there model engine of yours that you sayworks.'
It became a quite efficient motor.]
They did. They had a look at it through the spy-glass, and it became aquite efficient motor; of rather an odd pattern it is true, and verybumpy, but capable of quite a decent speed. They went up to the hills init, and so odd was its design that no one who saw it ever forgot it.People talk about that rummy motor at Bonnington and Aldington to thisday. They stopped often, to use the spy-glass on various objects. Trees,for instance, could be made to grow surprisingly, and there were patchesof giant wheat found that year near Ashford that were neversatisfactorily accounted for. Blackberries, too, could be enlarged to amost wonderful and delicious fruit. And the sudden growth of a fugitivetoffee-drop found in Edward's pocket and placed on the hand was a happysurprise. When you scraped the pocket dirt off the outside you had apound of delicious toffee. Not so happy was the incident of the earwig,which crawled into view when Edward was enlarging a wild strawberry, andhad grown the size of a rat before the slow but horrified Edward gainedcourage to shake it off.
It was a beautiful drive. As they came home they met a woman driving aweak-looking little cow. It went by on one side of the engine and thewoman went by on the other. When they were restored to each other thecow was nearly the size of a cart-horse, and the woman did not recogniseit. She ran back along the road after her cow, which must, she said,have taken fright at the beastly motor. She scolded violently as shewent. So the boys had to make the cow small again, when she wasn'tlooking.
'This is all very well,' said Gustus, 'but we've got our fortune tomake, I don't think. We've got to get hold of a tanner--or a bob wouldbe better.'
But this was not possible, because that broken window wasn't paid for,and Gustus never had any money.
'We ought to be the benefactors of the human race,' said Edward; 'makeall the good things more and all the bad things less.'
And _that_ was all very well--but the cow hadn't been a great success,as Gustus reminded him.
'I see I shall have to do some of my thinking,' he added.
They stopped in a quiet road close by Dymchurch; the engine was madesmall again, and Edward went home with it under his arm.
It was the next day that they found the shilling on the road. They couldhardly believe their good luck. They went out on to the shore with it,put it on Edward's hand while Gustus looked at it with the glass, andthe shilling began to grow.
'It's as big as a saucer,' said Edward, 'and it's heavy. I'll rest it onthese stones. It's as big as a plate; it's as big as a tea-tray; it's asbig as a cart-wheel.'
And it was.
'Now,' said Gustus, 'we'll go and borrow a cart to take it away. Comeon.'
But Edward could not come on. His hand was in the hollow between the twostones, and above lay tons of silver. He could not move, and the stonescouldn't move. There was nothing for it but to look at the great roundlump of silver through the wrong end of the spy-glass till it got smallenough for Edward to lift it. And then, unfortunately, Gustus looked alittle too long, and the shilling, having gone back to its own size,went a little further--and it went to sixpenny size, and then went outaltogether.
So nobody got anything by that.
And now came the time when, as was to be expected, Edward dropped thetelescope in his aunt's presence. She said, 'What's that?' picked it upwith quite unfair quickness, and looked through it, and through the openwindow at a fishing-boat, which instantly swelled to the size of aman-of-war.
'My goodness! what a strong glass!' said the aunt.
'Isn't it?' said Edward, gently taking it from her. He looked at theship through the glass's other end till she got to her proper size againand then smaller. He just stopped in time to prevent its disappearingaltogether.
'I'll take care of it for you,' said the aunt. And for the first time intheir lives Edward said 'No' to his aunt.
It was a terrible moment.
Edward, quite frenzied by his own courage, turned the glass on oneobject after another--the furniture grew as he looked, and when helowered the glass the aunt was pinned fast between a monster table-legand a great chiffonier.
'There!' said Edward. 'And I shan't let you out till you say you won'ttake it to take care of either.'
'Oh, have it your own way,' said the aunt, faintly, and closed her eyes.When she opened them the furniture was its right size and Edward wasgone. He had twinges of conscience, but the aunt never mentioned thesubject again. I have reason to suppose that _she_ supposed that she hadhad a fit of an unusual and alarming nature.
Next day the boys in the camp were to go back to their slums. Edward andGustus parted on the seashore and Edward cried. He had never met a boywhom he liked as he liked Gustus. And Gustus himself was almost melted.
'I will say for you you're more like a man and less like a snivellingwhite rabbit now than what you was when I met you. Well, we ain't donenothing to speak of with that there conjuring trick of yours, but we've'ad a right good time. So long. See you 'gain some day.'
Edward hesitated, spluttered, and still weeping flung his arms roundGustus.
''Ere, none o' that,' said Gustus, sternly. 'If you ain't man enough toknow better, I am. Shake 'ands like a Briton; right about face--and partgame.'
He suited the action to the word.
Edward went back to his aunt snivelling, defenceless but happy. He hadnever had a friend except Gustus, and now he had given Gustus thegreatest treasure that he possessed.
For Edward was not such a white rabbit as he seemed. And in that lastembrace he had managed to slip the little telescope into the pocket ofthe reefer coat which Gustus wore, ready for his journey.
It was the greatest treasure that Edward had, but it was also thegreatest responsibility, so that while he felt the joy of self-sacrificehe also felt the rapture of relief. Life is full of such mixed moments.
And the holidays ended and Edward went back to his villa. Be sure he hadgiven Gustus his home address, and begged him to write, but Gustus neverdid.
Presently Edward's father came home from India, and they left his auntto her villa and went to live at a jolly little house on a sloping hillat Chiselhurst, which was Edward's father's very own. They were notrich, and Edward could not go to a very good school, and though therewas enough to eat and wear, what there was was very plain. And Edward'sfather had been wounded, and somehow had not got a pension.
Now one night in the next summer Edward woke up in his bed with thefeeling that there was some one in the room. And there was. A darkfigure was squeezing itself through the window. Edward was far toofrightened to scream. He simply lay and listened to his heart. It waslike listening to a cheap American clock. The next moment a lanternflashed in his eyes and a mask
ed face bent over him.
'Where does your father keep his money?' said a muffled voice.
'In the b-b-b-b-bank,' replied the wretched Edward, truthfully.
'I mean what he's got in the house.'
'In his trousers pocket,' said Edward, 'only he puts it in thedressing-table drawer at night.'
'You must go and get it,' said the burglar, for such he plainly was.
'Must I?' said Edward, wondering how he could get out of betraying hisfather's confidence and being branded as a criminal.
'Yes,' said the burglar in an awful voice, 'get up and go.'
'_No_,' said Edward, and he was as much surprised at his courage as youare.
'Bravo!' said the burglar, flinging off his mask. 'I see you _aren't_such a white rabbit as what I thought you.'
'It's Gustus,' said Edward. 'Oh, Gustus, I'm so glad! Oh, Gustus, I'm sosorry! I always hoped you wouldn't be a burglar. And now you are.'
'I am so,' said Gustus, with pride, 'but,' he added sadly, 'this is myfirst burglary.'
'Couldn't it be the last?' suggested Edward.
'That,' replied Gustus, 'depends on you.'
'I'll do anything,' said Edward, 'anything.'
'You see,' said Gustus, sitting down on the edge of the bed in aconfidential attitude, with the dark lantern in one hand and the mask inthe other, 'when you're as hard up as we are, there's not much of aliving to be made honest. I'm sure I wonder we don't all of us turnburglars, so I do. And that glass of yours--you little beggar--you didme proper--sticking of that thing in my pocket like what you did. Well,it kept us alive last winter, that's a cert. I used to look at thevictuals with it, like what I said I would. A farden's worth o'pease-pudden was a dinner for three when that glass was about, and apenn'orth o' scraps turned into a big beef-steak almost. They used towonder how I got so much for the money. But I'm always afraid o' beingfound out--or of losing the blessed spy-glass--or of some one pinchingit. So we got to do what I always said--make some use of it. And if I goalong and nick your father's dibs we'll make our fortunes right away.'
'No,' said Edward, 'but I'll ask father.'
'Rot.' Gustus was crisp and contemptuous. 'He'd think you was off yourchump, and he'd get me lagged.'
'It would be stealing,' said Edward.
'Not when you'll pay it back.'
'Yes, it would,' said Edward. 'Oh, don't ask me--I can't.'
'Then I shall,' said Gustus. 'Where's his room.'
'Oh, don't!' said Edward. 'I've got a half-sovereign of my own. I'llgive you that.'
'Lawk!' said Gustus. 'Why the blue monkeys couldn't you say so? Comeon.'
He pulled Edward out of bed by the leg, hurried his clothes on anyhow,and half-dragged, half-coaxed him through the window and down by the ivyand the chicken-house roof.
They stood face to face in the sloping garden and Edward's teethchattered. Gustus caught him by his hand, and led him away.
At the other end of the shrubbery, where the rockery was, Gustus stoopedand dragged out a big clinker--then another, and another. There was ahole like a big rabbit-hole. If Edward had really been a white rabbit itwould just have fitted him.
'I'll go first,' said Gustus, and went, head-foremost. 'Come on,' hesaid, hollowly, from inside. And Edward, too, went. It was dreadfulcrawling into that damp hole in the dark. As his head got through thehole he saw that it led to a cave, and below him stood a dark figure.The lantern was on the ground.
'Come on,' said Gustus, 'I'll catch you if you fall.'
With a rush and a scramble Edward got in.
'It's caves,' said Gustus. 'A chap I know that goes about the countrybottoming cane-chairs, 'e told me about it. And I nosed about and foundhe lived here. So then I thought what a go. So now we'll put yourhalf-shiner down and look at it, and we'll have a gold-mine, and you canpretend to find it.'
'Halves!' said Edward, briefly and firmly.
'You're a man,' said Gustus. 'Now, then!' He led the way through a mazeof chalk caves till they came to a convenient spot, which he had marked.And now Edward emptied his pockets on the sand--he had brought all thecontents of his money-box, and there was more silver than gold, and morecopper than either, and more odd rubbish than there was anything else.You know what a boy's pockets are like. Stones and putty, andslate-pencils and marbles--I urge in excuse that Edward was a verylittle boy--a bit of plasticine, one or two bits of wood.
'No time to sort 'em,' said Gustus, and, putting the lantern in asuitable position, he got out the glass and began to look through it atthe tumbled heap.
And the heap began to grow. It grew out sideways till it touched thewalls of the recess, and outwards till it touched the top of the recess,and then it slowly worked out into the big cave and came nearer andnearer to the boys. Everything grew--stones, putty, money, wood,plasticine.
Edward patted the growing mass as though it were alive and he loved it,and Gustus said:
'Here's clothes, and beef, and bread, and tea, and coffee--andbaccy--and a good school, and me a engineer. I see it all a-growing anda-growing.'
'Hi--stop!' said Edward suddenly.
Gustus dropped the telescope. It rolled away into the darkness.
'Now you've done it,' said Edward.
'What?' said Gustus.
'My hand,' said Edward, 'it's fast between the rock and the gold andthings. Find the glass and make it go smaller so that I can get my handout.'
But Gustus could not find the glass. And, what is more, no one ever hasfound it to this day.
'It's no good,' said Gustus, at last. 'I'll go and find your father.They must come and dig you out of this precious Tom Tiddler's ground.'
'And they'll lag you if they see you. You said they would,' said Edward,not at all sure what lagging was, but sure that it was somethingdreadful. 'Write a letter and put it in his letter-box. They'll find itin the morning.'
'And leave you pinned by the hand all night? Likely--I _don't_ think,'said Gustus.
'I'd rather,' said Edward, bravely, but his voice was weak. 'I couldn'tbear you to be lagged, Gustus. I do love you so.'
'None of that,' said Gustus, sternly. 'I'll leave you the lamp; I canfind my way with matches. Keep up your pecker, and never say die.'
'I won't,' said Edward, bravely. 'Oh, Gustus!'
* * * * *
That was how it happened that Edward's father was roused from slumbersby violent shakings from an unknown hand, while an unknown voiceuttered these surprising words:--
'Edward is in the gold and silver and copper mine that we've found underyour garden. Come and get him out.'
When Edward's father was at last persuaded that Gustus was not a sillydream--and this took some time--he got up.
He did not believe a word that Gustus said, even when Gustus added'S'welp me!' which he did several times.
But Edward's bed was empty--his clothes gone.
Edward's father got the gardener from next door--with, at the suggestionof Gustus, a pick--the hole in the rockery was enlarged, and they allgot in.
And when they got to the place where Edward was, there, sure enough, wasEdward, pinned by the hand between a piece of wood and a piece of rock.Neither the father nor the gardener noticed any metal. Edward hadfainted.
They got him out; a couple of strokes with the pick released his hand,but it was bruised and bleeding.
They all turned to go, but they had not gone twenty yards before therewas a crash and a loud report like thunder, and a slow rumbling,rattling noise very dreadful to hear.
'Get out of this quick, sir,' said the gardener; 'the roof's fell in;this part of the caves ain't safe.'
Edward was very feverish and ill for several days, during which he toldhis father the whole story--of which his father did not believe a word.But he was kind to Gustus, because Gustus was evidently fond of Edward.
When Edward was well enough to walk in the garden his father and hefound that a good deal of the shrubbery had sunk, so that the treeslooked as though t
hey were growing in a pit.
It spoiled the look of the garden, and Edward's father decided to movethe trees to the other side.
When this was done the first tree uprooted showed a dark hollow belowit. The man is not born who will not examine and explore a dark hollowin his own grounds. So Edward's father explored.
This is the true story of the discovery of that extraordinary vein ofsilver, copper, and gold which has excited so much interest inscientific and mining circles. Learned papers have been written aboutit, learned professors have been rude to each other about it, but no oneknows how it came there except Gustus and Edward and you and me.Edward's father is quite as ignorant as any one else, but he is muchricher than most of them; and, at any rate, he knows that it was Gustuswho first told him of the gold-mine, and who risked beinglagged--arrested by the police, that is--rather than let Edward waittill morning with his hand fast between wood and rock.
So Edward and Gustus have been to a good school, and now they are atWinchester, and presently they will be at Oxford. And when Gustus istwenty-one he will have half the money that came from the gold-mine. Andthen he and Edward mean to start a school of their own. And the boys whoare to go to it are to be the sort of boys who go to the summer camp ofthe Grand Redoubt near the sea--the kind of boy that Gustus was.
So the spy-glass will do some good after all, though it _was_ sounmanageable to begin with.
Perhaps it may even be found again. But I rather hope it won't. Itmight, really, have done much more mischief than it did--and if any onefound it, it might do more yet.
There is no moral to this story, except.... But no--there is no moral.