Chapter XIII: The Old Blunderbuss

"SO Miss Warren declines to return your call?" Sir Richard Gidley said, turning his frowning gaze upon his daughter, who, engaged upon some fancy-work, was seated opposite to him by the open dining-room window at the Manor House.

It was the afternoon subsequent to the one when Mrs. Compton had paid her visit at No. 8 Fore Street, and Dick was upstairs with his cousins, having arrived just before luncheon.

"Yes, she declined most decidedly," Mrs. Compton responded somewhat nervously.

"Why?" demanded Sir Richard. "You are keeping something back! What reason did she give for refusing to return your call?"

"She said she would not visit at a house, the doors of which were shut against her niece—Dick's mother. Really, I do not see how she could, when one comes to think of it! I am vexed I asked her! She seems such a very nice woman, and I am sure it is most fortunate she and Dr. Warren were willing to make a home for Dick! He was writing to his mother when I arrived yesterday—Miss Warren says he is devoted to her! It is to be hoped, father, he will never learn the cause of the trouble between you and Richard!"

Mrs. Compton had spoken with unusual boldness. Now she paused apprehensively, expecting a burst of passion from her companion, but she was agreeably disappointed. Venturing to glance at him, she saw he was looking decidedly disturbed; he was, in fact, remembering that he had told Dick his son had offended him, and he had never forgiven him. How foolish and thoughtless he must have been to have said it!

A sudden burst of merriment from upstairs was heard at that moment; and Mrs. Compton became uneasy.

"The children are very noisy," she said, rising hastily; "I will go and tell them to be quieter."

"Nonsense!" Sir Richard exclaimed. "Let them be! Pray don't fuss, Arabella!"

Poor Mrs. Compton, who had been only anxious that her father should not be disturbed or irritated, sat down again, and proceeded with her work in silence. The sounds of laughter upstairs continued, Ruth's shrill treble mingling with the boys' deeper voices.

"I wonder what they are doing," said Sir Richard, a slight smile curving his stern lips; "shall we go and see?"

She agreed, though a trifle uneasily; and they accordingly went upstairs together.

The children were at the top of the house, where they had been ransacking the disused rooms. Lionel had shown Dick the "something" he and his sister had found, which proved to be a short old-fashioned gun with a large bore—like a cannon, as Dick said; and now they were in the midst of a most entrancing game of their own invention. Ruth, who had donned a faded yellow satin gown, which she had found amongst a lot of other garments in a big chest, was being hauled, shrieking and laughing, around the room by her brother, whilst Dick, armed with the short gun, was pretending to fire upon the little girl's assailant.

A sudden hush fell upon the young people as soon as they realised there was an audience to their game. Lionel dropped his hold of Ruth, allowing her to fall in a panting heap upon the floor, whilst Dick, still clasping his weapon, ran towards his aunt and grandfather.

"Oh!" he cried excitedly, "we're having such fun! Ruth's a grand lady going to a party, and I'm her coachman! Lionel's a highwayman—he's stopped our carriage, and demanded all Ruth's money and jewels! He's going to lock her up in a dungeon, and I'm trying to shoot him with this gun! Oh, Aunt Arabella! Oh, grandfather! You can't think what a jolly game it is, and we've made it up ourselves!"

"I'm afraid our coming has put a stop to it," Sir Richard remarked, his eyes resting kindly on Dick's countenance, which was flushed rosy red. He glanced from him to his other grandson, who was keeping in the background, and wondered why the elder boy always appeared struck dumb in his presence. "Why don't you go on with your game?" he continued; "it seems vastly exciting! Ruth could not have shrieked louder if she had actually been in the grasp of a highwayman!"

The little girl tried to rise, but her flowing skirts impeded her. It was Sir Richard who lifted her from the ground and set her on her feet. She thanked him in a low tone, looking shyly up into his face, but reading nothing except amusement there, she ventured a timid smile.

"I'm afraid I was making a dreadful noise, grandfather," she said apologetically. "Did you hear me screaming downstairs? I hope I did not disturb you!"

"No, no!" he replied with unusual good-humour. "Your mother and I thought we should like to see what you children were doing! What have you there, Dick? Why it's my grandfather's old blunderbuss!"

Dick passed the weapon to Sir Richard, who examined it carefully, saying that he had not seen it for years.

"We found it under a heap of rubbish," Ruth explained. "Lionel polished the barrel and made it look nice and bright!"

"What a clumsy gun it is," Mrs. Compton remarked. "I suppose the children can do no harm with it, father?" she asked anxiously, with a woman's nervousness of fire-arms.

"Oh, no!" he replied reassuringly. "There can be no mistake as to whether it's loaded or not. It is a muzzle-loader—there were no such things as breech-loaders when this gun was made." And he proceeded to point out to the boys—Lionel having drawn near too, full of interest—how the weapon worked, explaining how it ought to be loaded, and the powder and shot rammed down with the ramrod, and fired by means of a flint-lock—the spark of fire being produced by the flint striking on the steel pan.

"What a time it must take to load it!" Dick exclaimed. "In father's guns you have only to put in the cartridges!"

"Ah, this old blunderbuss is very different to modern guns," Sir Richard said, "but it served the purpose for which it was required; it was used by my grandfather as a protection against highwaymen when he went a journey by coach, and even if he paid a friendly visit to a neighbour in his own carriage, the blunderbuss went too! Those good old days, as people call them, had their disadvantages! It's all very well to play being captured by a highwayman, Ruth, but how would you like it in reality?"

"Not at all," she responded frankly. "Lionel is rough enough, but I expect a highwayman would be rougher. I believe my arms are quite bruised; still, I don't mind. It was a splendid game!"

"How hot you are, my dear!" Mrs. Compton exclaimed; "your cheeks are perfectly crimson! No wonder you are so warm, with that heavy satin gown over all your other clothing. Where did you get it?"

Ruth indicated the old chest in a corner of the room. The children had turned out all its contents, which now lay in a big heap on the floor. Some of the garments were moth-eaten—all were faded and time-worn. Mrs. Compton began to replace them in the chest, whilst Ruth helped her.

Sir Richard continued to converse with the boys. He told them several anecdotes of the days when the blunderbuss had been in use, and made himself quite entertaining.

Seated on a rickety chair with the old gun across his knees, he waxed eloquent over a story of how his grandfather had been waylaid by highwaymen when journeying from Exeter, and how he, with the assistance of his coachman and postillion, had put the robbers to flight, and had reached home in safety.

"Oh, please go on!" Dick cried, when the old man paused. "We want to hear more! Were the highwaymen ever caught?"

"One was, I believe, and gibbetted. He was the last man in this neighbourhood who suffered death in that way. I remember seeing the gibbet myself, when I was a boy; it stood at the cross-roads at the top of the village, but was blown down during a December storm, and converted into fire-wood."

"What was it like?" Dick inquired.

"It was a sort of gallows with a wooden arm projecting from the top. Notorious evil-doers used to be suspended from that arm by chains, in sight of passers-by, and allowed to hang there until only their bones remained. It was a horrible mode of punishing crime."

Dick shuddered. He thought he would never pass the cross-roads again without picturing the gibbet with its awful burden.

"I am glad there are no gibbets now-a-days," he said. "I think the people living about here must have been very wicked, grandfather, so many of them seem to have been smugglers and highwaymen!"

"I do not think they were worse here than in other places," Sir Richard replied seriously. "People ought to live better lives at the present day than they did in those times, for they have not the excuse of ignorance for their misdeeds; they are taught to know right from wrong, and even the very poorest are made to learn to read and write. I suppose no one would be misguided enough to argue now that smuggling and highway robbery are not crimes."

"I am very, very glad I did not live years ago," Dick said reflectively, at which remark Lionel laughed, and Sir Richard looked amused.

When their elders left them, as they did a short while later, the children did not continue their interrupted game, but began to remark on their grandfather's change of mood.

"Whatever makes grandfather in such a good temper to-day!" Ruth exclaimed. She had divested herself of her borrowed finery, and sat on a table swinging her legs as she talked to the boys. "Why can't he always be like that, I wonder! Fancy his coming up here with mother!"

"Yes," chimed in Lionel; "and the idea of his telling us that story about the highwaymen! I never knew him so agreeable before. I say, Dick, I should like to have a shot with this old blunderbuss— shouldn't you? I believe I could load it all right."

"Yes; so could I."

"We might have a pot at the rabbits with it," Lionel continued. "Only mother would be scared if she heard us. She's so silly about guns. We should have to take it a good way from the house."

"But we haven't any powder or shot," Ruth reminded him.

"I can get some," her brother told her. "I'll go into Holton and find out where I can buy some; or perhaps I can get around Groves—he's so good-natured—and induce him to give me a little. I don't suppose grandfather keeps any, now he's given up shooting; anyway, I shouldn't ask him. I've heard mother say he used to be a very good shot," he informed Dick.

"So's father," Dick declared. "Once he shot a tiger—a man-eater, too! He's supposed to be one of the best shots in the regiment—every one says so!"

"It's a pity he isn't here to kill some of the rabbits," Lionel said seriously. "Groves says they're a regular nuisance. The farmers grumble terribly about them. Grandfather's an awfully queer sort, I think. His property is simply over-run with game. He won't let the shooting; he won't shoot himself; and he won't let any one else kill anything. Pheasants are as plentiful as blackbirds in the woods. I am sure they must get poached, and I don't wonder. Groves says there are heaps of game everywhere."

"I know there are heaps of rabbits," Ruth said. "I counted more than a dozen from my bedroom window, yesterday."

"Rabbits are not game—they are vermin," her brother informed her. He never lost an opportunity of correcting her if he possibly could. "You don't believe it? You thought only rats and mice were vermin? Oh, you little ignoramus! If you won't take my word for it, go and ask mother or grandfather!"

"I will," Ruth cried, utterly unbelieving, and she rushed from the room.

"Now she's gone, we can talk in peace," Lionel said to his cousin confidentially. "I mean to fire off that old blunderbuss as soon as ever I get an opportunity."

"Wouldn't it be rather dangerous?" asked Dick, who knew enough about guns to make him cautious with them. "We ought to know how much powder and shot to use—grandfather didn't say. I wonder if the blunderbuss kicks?"

"I never heard of a gun kicking!" Lionel exclaimed, for he really knew much less about fire-arms than the younger boy.

Dick explained what he meant. Lionel had not known before that some guns recoiled after being fired. He regretted having admitted his ignorance, but he said confidently,—

"Oh, we'll be careful! If it kicks we can tie it to a tree and fire it off like a cannon; we could make a fuse of powder reaching to the lock, set fire to it, and we should have time to go a good distance away before the gun went off."

"So we should," Dick agreed. "But don't you think we'd better ask grandfather to lend us the blunderbuss?"

"No, no; certainly not," Lionel replied hastily. "If we do that, Ruth is sure to hear what we're up to, and she'll come bothering and wanting to interfere!'

"But she heard us talking about it!"

"She'll think no more of that. I know what she is. No, we won't tell any one about it. You leave the matter to me. I'll get the shot and gunpowder somehow, and we'll have a fine lark together."

Dick was delighted with the idea, and readily fell in with his cousin's plans, agreeing willingly to keep silence upon the subject. It was arranged that the elder boy was to let the younger know when he had obtained the ammunition, after which they would slip away to the woods together without Ruth's being the wiser. Dick did not realise that it was in reality Mrs. Compton and Sir Richard Lionel was most anxious to keep in the dark; and though he thought it a little hard on Ruth that she should be denied the pleasure of hearing the gun go off, he came to the conclusion that of course her brother must know best. As Lionel said, what did girls know about guns. She would be far better out of the way.

When Ruth returned, she looked crestfallen, having discovered that her brother had not been trying to sell her a packet, but had told her the truth. She eyed the boys suspiciously, and demanded to be informed what they had been talking about during her absence.

"I believe you're up to some mischief," she declared; "do tell me what it is. You may as well. Is it anything to do with the secret passage?"

"Oh, no!" Dick replied quickly.

"Then what is it? Some nonsense or other! I see you don't mean to tell me! You're nasty, disagreeable boys, both of you!" And she flounced out of the room again, slamming the door after her.

"She's huffy now," Lionel remarked tranquilly. "She's awfully quick-tempered, but she never stops in a passion long."

Dick made no reply; he had an uneasy sense that they were not treating Ruth quite fairly. It certainly appeared unjust that she should not be in their confidence simply because she was a girl. He had seen the hurt tears in Ruth's blue eyes; but Lionel's influence over him was daily becoming stronger, and he allowed him to have his way.