“Well, go and ask Mr Manners
to come up, then,” said Mr Willows, one morning
a few days later, as Will and Josh stood waiting; “that
is,” he went on, “if you really think
that he would like to come. I should be very
pleased to see him. But don’t worry the
man.”
“Oh, I’m sure he would, father,”
said Will; “wouldn’t he, Josh?”
“Yes,” said Josh, quickly. “I
know he’s been wanting to see the place.”
“He’s thrown out hints,” said Will.
“Oh, has he?” said the
mill-owner, with a smile. “Thrown out hints,
eh? Well, I shall be delighted to see him.
But I thought you two chaps were not on very good
terms with him.”
“Oh yes, father; it’s
all right now. Of course we thought that he was
only a painter, but he is really a splendid chap.
Come on, Josh; we’ll get him to come up now.”
“Only a painter,” said
Mr Willows, with a laugh, as he looked after them.
The two lads started for the cottage
where the artist, who was making picture after picture
of the neighbourhood, took his meals when,
that is, he did not picnic in the open, which was
fairly frequently and where he slept and
one could sleep in that crisp mountain air.
“No, my dears,” said Mrs
Drinkwater, who had come down to the little white
gate to speak to them, “Mr Manners is out, I
am very sorry.”
“Oh!” said Will.
“Where’s he gone?” asked Josh.
“He went off very early this
morning, sir,” said the woman. “He
told me to cut him some sandwiches. He said
that I would be away all day, as he was going as far
as the Tor.”
“And never asked us!” cried Josh.
“What a jolly shame!”
“Humph! It is a pity,”
said Will, and he turned away. “I say,
why shouldn’t we go after him?”
“Perhaps he doesn’t want us.”
“Nonsense!” said Will.
“Then let’s go.
I’m willing, only I thought you would say that
it was too far.”
“It’s you that would say that.”
“Bosh!” said Josh.
“Go on. Be funny. Bosh, Josh!
That’s a joke, I suppose.”
“Oh, all right; I’m ready,”
said Josh. “But it is no end of a long
way.”
“Why, we’ve been there lots of times before
now.”
“Yes, but we started early in the morning.”
“It doesn’t matter,”
said Will. “I have been wanting to go there
again for a long time.”
The Great Gray Tor was surrounded
by mists which were wreathed round it half-way up,
while the dark summit peering out above the vapour
looked like some vast head emerging from a miniature
sea.
“It’s glorious,”
said Will, as the two boys got away into the wild
rugged country, clothed here and there with marshes
where numbers of flowers were growing luxuriantly,
their blooms making bright splashes of colour.
“Fancy his wanting to paint all this, though!”
“Oh, I believe he would paint anything.”
“Well, he will soon have finished
everything here. He’s done the mill, and
the sunsets, and old Drinkwater’s cottage.
There will be nothing left soon for him to daub.”
“Oh, yes; there will,”
said Josh, knowingly, as they trudged on. “I
heard my father talking about it. He said these
artist chaps had a new way of looking at everything
each day of their lives. So that means that
he will want to paint everything all over again.
Glad I am not an artist. I don’t like
doing things over again.”
“Ho!” said Will. “I don’t
care.”
“No more do I,” said Josh,
“for I’m not an artist and I am not going
to be one. But what are you staring at?”
“I’ve lost the way,” said Will,
at last.
“Ditto,” said Josh. “Have
you really? Shout. Mr Manners might hear.”
“You shout.”
Josh did so.
“Bah! Nobody could hear that.”
Josh shouted once more.
“Shout again,” said Will.
“No, you have a try. I shall be hoarse.”
“All right then. Mr Manners ahoy!”
“He won’t hear the Mister,” said
Josh, scornfully.
“No, of course not,” said Will.
“Manners ahoy!”
“Ahoy!” came in a faint whisper.
“It’s an echo,” said Josh.
“Well, I know that, stupid.”
“He may have come round another way,”
hazarded Josh.
“May anything,” said Will.
“But I don’t believe there is another
way. Mr Manners! Ahoy!”
he shouted.
“Ahoy-oy?” came back faintly again.
“There!”
“It is only the echo.
Seems too foolish to lose your way in a place like
this.”
“Good as anywhere else,”
said Josh, cheerily. “But there’s
the Tor, and there’s Mr Manners.”
“Where is he?” said Will, sharply.
“Why, at the Tor.”
“Ugh! There, come on. None of your
jokes.”
“Well, we can’t be far wrong,” said
Josh.
“We might be miles out,”
said Will; “and it will be dark soon. We
were precious stupids to come all this way on the
bare chance of meeting him. He may have gone
off home.”
“Then we should have been sure to meet him.”
“Why?” said Will.
“Because he would have come
this way. It’s the only safe one, on account
of the bogs. Somewhere near here a man and a
horse were swallowed up once.”
“Don’t believe it,” said Will.
“You ask father.”
It was steady uphill work now; then
real climbing; here and there their way was checked
by a miniature heather-crowned crater, down which they
peered, to see stony ledges and then a sheer fall.
“He is only an ignorant Londoner
after all,” said Will, thoughtfully, as they
scrambled on. “He might have let himself
fall down one of those places.”
“Any one might do that,” said Josh.
“Hark! What’s that?”
“Didn’t hear anything,” said Will.
“That’s because you don’t listen.
Now!” said Josh, sharply.
Will uttered a cry.
“Yes,” he said, excitedly.
“You heard it?”
“Yes, yes!”
There was a groan.
“There!” cried Will.
“It’s Mr Manners, and something’s
happened to him. Manners! Ahoy!”
No answer came.
“Wouldn’t be having a game with us, would
he?”
“No,” said Josh. “I don’t
think he’d do that.”
“Then let’s go on a bit farther.”
The late afternoon sun lit up the
valley away to the left, which the Tor had hitherto
concealed from their view. They scrambled on
in the heat over the rough stone escarpments and amidst
the gorse.
“Now, let’s listen again,” said
Will.
They halted, and Josh wiped his streaming face.
“Shout again,” he said huskily.
“Shall I?”
“Yes.”
“Manners! Ahoy!” shouted Will.
There was no response.
“Perhaps it wasn’t he,” said Josh.
“Perhaps he’s so busy
painting something or another that he hasn’t
been able to hear.”
“Oh, perhaps anything,”
said Will. “Come on, I am certain now.
It’s that big cleft where we found the stonechats.
He will have fallen down there, paint and all.”
“Help!” came faintly now. “Help help!”
“Hear that?” panted Josh, looking scared,
and then radiant.
“Yes,” said Will; “I
hear. He’s in danger.” And
the two lads tore on as fast as they could up the
steep slippery incline.