At length, as
daylight was coming in, and affording a pretext for the fair occupants
of the front room, whose windows hailed the beams of the rising sun, to
leave their seclusion and mingle with the wakeful ones below, the sound
of wheels was heard coming along the road to the left. Hurriedly, the
detective became Mr. Chisholm, and joined the dominie at the gate. There
were three men in the waggon, and one of them was the Grinstun man, as
cheerful as ever. What was in the waggon could not be seen, as it was
covered over with buffalo robes and tarpaulin, but the detective could
have sworn he saw it move, and give forth a sound not unlike a groan.
Mr. Rawdon jumped down, telling a certain Jones of truculent countenance
to drive on, as he guessed he'd walk the rest of the way this fine
morning. The waggon drove off accordingly and at a rapid rate, while the
working geologist accosted the sentinels.
"Wy, wot's hup 'ere, gents? 'Ere you hare on guard yet, and Jones there
terls me 'ee 'eard shots fired has 'ee was comin' along slowly. I 'ope
there hain't no gang o' city burglars bin tryin' hany o' their larks on
the Squire.
Pages:
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337