Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished: A Tale of City Arab Life and Adventure

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  OCCUPATIONS AT BRANKLY FARM.

  The farmer led our two boys through a deliciously scented pine-wood atthe rear of his house, to a valley which seemed to extend and widen outinto a multitude of lesser valleys and clumps of woodland, wherelakelets and rivulets and waterfalls glittered in the afternoon sun likeshields and bands of burnished silver.

  Taking a ball of twine from one of his capacious pockets, he gave it toBobby along with a small pocket-book.

  "Have you got clasp-knives?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir," said both boys, at once producing instruments which werevery much the worse for wear.

  "Very well, now, here is the work I want you to do for me thisafternoon. D'you see the creek down in the hollow yonder--about half amile off?"

  "Yes, yes, sir."

  "Well, go down there and cut two sticks about ten feet long each; tiestrings to the small ends of them; fix hooks that you'll find in thatpocket-book to the lines. The creek below the fall is swarming withfish; you'll find grasshoppers and worms enough for bait if you chooseto look for 'em. Go, and see what you can do."

  A reminiscence of ancient times induced Bobby Frog to say "Walke-e-r!"to himself, but he had too much wisdom to say it aloud. He did,however, venture modestly to remark--

  "I knows nothink about fishin', sir. Never cotched so much as a eelin--"

  "When I give you orders, _obey_ them!" interrupted the farmer, in a toneand with a look that sent Bobby and Tim to the right-about double-quick.They did not even venture to look back until they reached the poolpointed out, and when they did look back Mr Merryboy had disappeared.

  "Vell, I say," began Bobby, but Tim interrupted him with, "Now, Bob, you_must_ git off that 'abit you've got o' puttin' v's for double-u's.Wasn't we told by the genl'm'n that gave us a partin' had-dress thatwe'd never git on in the noo world if we didn't mind our p's and q's?An' here you are as regardless of your v's as if they'd no connectionwi' the alphabet."

  "Pretty cove _you_ are, to find fault wi' _me_," retorted Bob, "w'enyou're far wuss wi' your haitches--a-droppin' of 'em w'en you shouldn'tought to, an' stickin' of 'em in where you oughtn't should to. Go alongan' cut your stick, as master told you."

  The sticks were cut, pieces of string were measured off, and hooksattached thereto. Then grasshoppers were caught, impaled, and droppedinto a pool. The immediate result was almost electrifying to lads whohad never caught even a minnow before. Bobby's hook had barely sunkwhen it was seized and run away with so forcibly as to draw a tremendous"Hi! hallo!! ho!!! I've got 'im!!!" from the fisher.

  "Hoy! hurroo!!" responded Tim, "so've I!!!"

  Both boys, blazing with excitement, held on.

  The fish, bursting, apparently, with even greater excitement, rushedoff.

  "He'll smash my stick!" cried Bob.

  "The twine's sure to go!" cried Tim. "Hold o-o-on!"

  This command was addressed to his fish, which leaped high out of thepool and went wriggling back with a heavy splash. It did not obey theorder, but the hook did, which came to the same thing.

  "A ten-pounder if he's a' ounce," said Tim.

  "You tell that to the horse--hi ho! stop that, will you?"

  But Bobby's fish was what himself used to be--troublesome to deal with.It would not "stop that."

  It kept darting from side to side and leaping out of the water until, inone of its bursts, it got entangled with Tim's fish, and the boys wereobliged to haul them both ashore together.

  "Splendid!" exclaimed Bobby, as they unhooked two fine trout and laidthem on a place of safety; "At 'em again!"

  At them they went, and soon had two more fish, but the disturbancecreated by these had the effect of frightening the others. At allevents, at their third effort their patience was severely tried, fornothing came to their hooks to reward the intense gaze and the nervousreadiness to act which marked each boy during the next half-hour or so.

  At the end of that time there came a change in their favour, for littleMartha Mild appeared on the scene. She had been sent, she said, to workwith them.

  "To play with us, you mean," suggested Tim.

  "No, father said work," the child returned simply.

  "It's jolly work, then! But I say, old 'ooman, d'you call Mr Merryboyfather?" asked Bob in surprise.

  "Yes, I've called him father ever since I came."

  "An' who's your real father?"

  "I have none. Never had one."

  "An' your mother?"

  "Never had a mother either."

  "Well, you air a curiosity."

  "Hallo! Bob, don't forget your purliteness," said Tim. "Come, Mumpy;father calls you Mumpy, doesn't he?"

  "Yes."

  "Then so will I. Well, Mumpy, as I was goin' to say, you may come an'_work_ with my rod if you like, an' we'll make a game of it. We'll playat work. Let me see where shall we be?"

  "In the garden of Eden," suggested Bob.

  "The very thing," said Tim; "I'll be Adam an' you'll be Eve, Mumpy."

  "Very well," said Martha with ready assent.

  She would have assented quite as readily to have personated Jezebel orthe Witch of Endor.

  "And I'll be Cain," said Bobby, moving his line in a manner that wasmeant to be persuasive.

  "Oh!" said Martha, with much diffidence, "Cain was wicked, wasn't he?"

  "Well, my dear Eve," said Tim, "Bobby Frog is wicked enough forhalf-a-dozen Cains. In fact, you can't cane him enough to pay him offfor all his wickedness."

  "Bah! go to bed," said Cain, still intent on his line, which seemed toquiver as if with a nibble.

  As for Eve, being as innocent of pun-appreciation as her great originalprobably was, she looked at the two boys in pleased gravity.

  "Hi! Cain's got another bite," cried Adam, while Eve went into a stateof gentle excitement, and fluttered near with an evidently strong desireto help in some way.

  "Hallo! got 'im again!" shouted Tim, as his rod bent to the water withjerky violence; "out o' the way, Eve, else you'll get shoved intoGihon."

  "Euphrates, you stoopid!" said Cain, turning his Beehive training toaccount. Having lost his fish, you see, he could afford to be criticalwhile he fixed on another bait.

  But Tim cared not for rivers or names just then, having hooked a "realwopper," which gave him some trouble to land. When landed, it proved tobe the finest fish of the lot, much to Eve's satisfaction, who sat downto watch the process when Adam renewed the bait.

  Now, Bobby Frog, not having as yet been quite reformed, and, perhaps,having imbibed some of the spirit of his celebrated prototype with hisname, felt a strong impulse to give Tim a gentle push behind. For Timsat in an irresistibly tempting position on the bank, with his littleboots overhanging the dark pool from which the fish had been dragged.

  "Tim," said Bob.

  "Adam, if you please--or call me father, if you prefer it!"

  "Well, then, father, since I haven't got an Abel to kill, I'm only too'appy to have a Adam to souse."

  Saying which, he gave him a sufficient impulse to send him off!

  Eve gave vent to a treble shriek, on beholding her husband struggling inthe water, and Cain himself felt somewhat alarmed at what he had done.He quickly extended the butt of his rod to his father, and dragged himsafe to land, to poor Eve's inexpressible relief.

  "What d'ee mean by that, Bob?" demanded Tim fiercely, as he sprangtowards his companion.

  "Cain, if you please--or call me son, if you prefers it," cried Bob, ashe ran out of his friend's way; "but don't be waxy, father Adam, withyour own darlin' boy. I couldn't 'elp it. You'd ha' done just the sameto me if you'd had the chance. Come, shake 'ands on it."

  Tim Lumpy was not the boy to cherish bad feeling. He grinned in aghastly manner, and shook the extended hand.

  "I forgive you, Cain, but please go an' look for Abel an' pitch into_him_ w'en next you git into that state o' mind, for it's agincommon-sense, as well as history, to pitch into your old father s
o."Saying which, Tim went off to wring out his dripping garments, afterwhich the fishing was resumed.

  "Wot a remarkable difference," said Bobby, breaking a rather longsilence of expectancy, as he glanced round on the splendid landscapewhich was all aglow with the descending sun, "'tween these 'ere diggin'san' Commercial Road, or George Yard, or Ratcliff 'Ighway. Ain't it,Tim?"

  Before Tim could reply, Mr Merryboy came forward.

  "Capital!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of the fish; "well done,lads, well done. We shall have a glorious supper to-night. Now, Mumpy,you run home and tell mother to have the big frying-pan ready. She'llwant your help. Ha!" he added, turning to the boys, as Martha ran offwith her wonted alacrity, "I thought you'd soon teach yourselves how tocatch fish. It's not difficult here. And what do you think of Martha,my boys?"

  "She's a trump!" said Bobby, with decision.

  "Fust rate!" said Tim, bestowing his highest conception of praise.

  "Quite true, lads; though why you should say `fust' instead offirst-rate, Tim, is more than I can understand. However, you'll getcured of such-like queer pronunciations in course of time. Now, I wantyou to look on little Mumpy as your sister, and she's a good deal ofyour sister too in reality, for she came out of that same great nest ofgood and bad, rich and poor--London. Has she told you anything aboutherself yet?"

  "Nothin', sir," answered Bob, "'cept that when we axed--asked, I mean--Iax--ask your parding--she said she'd neither father nor mother."

  "Ah! poor thing; that's too true. Come, pick up your fish, and I'lltell you about her as we go along."

  The boys strung their fish on a couple of branches, and followed theirnew master home.

  "Martha came to us only last year," said the farmer. "She's a littleolder than she looks, having been somewhat stunted in her growth, by badtreatment, I suppose, and starvation and cold in her infancy. No oneknows who was her father or mother. She was `found' in the streets oneday, when about three years of age, by a man who took her home, and madeuse of her by sending her to sell matches in public-houses. Beingsmall, very intelligent for her years, and attractively modest, shesucceeded, I suppose, in her sales, and I doubt not the man would havecontinued to keep her, if he had not been taken ill and carried tohospital, where he died. Of course the man's lodging was given up theday he left it. As the man had been a misanthrope--that's a hater ofeverybody, lads--nobody cared anything about him, or made inquiry afterhim. The consequence was, that poor Martha was forgotten, strayed awayinto the streets, and got lost a second time. She was picked up thistime by a widow lady in very reduced circumstances, who questioned herclosely; but all that the poor little creature knew was that she didn'tknow where her home was, that she had no father or mother, and that hername was Martha.

  "The widow took her home, made inquiries about her parentage in vain,and then adopted and began to train her, which accounts for her havingso little of that slang and knowledge of London low life that you haveso much of, you rascals! The lady gave the child the pet surname ofMild, for it was so descriptive of her character. But poor Martha wasnot destined to have this mother very long. After a few years she died,leaving not a sixpence or a rag behind her worth having. Thus littleMumpy was thrown a third time on the world, but God found a protectorfor her in a friend of the widow, who sent her to the Refuge--theBeehive as you call it--which has been such a blessing to you, my lads,and to so many like you, and along with her the 10 pounds required topay her passage and outfit to Canada. They kept her for some time andtrained her, and then, knowing that I wanted a little lass here, theysent her to me, for which I thank God, for she's a dear little child."

  The tone in which the last sentence was uttered told more than any wordscould have conveyed the feelings of the bluff farmer towards the littlegem that had been dug out of the London mines and thus given to him.

  Reader, they are prolific mines, those East-end mines of London! If youdoubt it, go, hear and see for yourself. Perhaps it were better adviceto say, go and dig, or help the miners!

  Need it be said that our waifs and strays grew and flourished in thatrich Canadian soil? It need not! One of the most curious consequencesof the new connection was the powerful affection that sprang up betweenBobby Frog and Mrs Merryboy, senior. It seemed as if that jovial oldlady and our London waif had fallen in love with each other at firstsight. Perhaps the fact that the lady was intensely appreciative offun, and the young gentleman wonderfully full of the same, had somethingto do with it. Whatever the cause, these two were constantly flirtingwith each other, and Bob often took the old lady out for little ramblesin the wood behind the farm.

  There was a particular spot in the woods, near a waterfall, of whichthis curious couple were particularly fond, and to which they frequentlyresorted, and there, under the pleasant shade, with the roar of the fallfor a symphony, Bob poured out his hopes and fears, reminiscences andprospects into the willing ears of the little old lady, who was so verysmall that Bob seemed quite a big man by contrast. He had to roaralmost as loud as the cataract to make her hear, but he was wellrewarded. The old lady, it is true, did not speak much, perhaps becauseshe understood little, but she expressed enough of sympathy, by means ofnods, and winks with her brilliant black eyes, and smiles with hertoothless mouth, to satisfy any boy of moderate expectations.

  And Bobby _was_ satisfied. So, also, were the other waifs and strays,not only with old granny, but with everything in and around their homein the New World.