CHAPTER IX.

THE ROBBER'S CAVE.

ONE morning in August, about six weeks after Salome's birthdays I went for the carriage, at eleven o'clock, and brought it round to the front door. I was looking forward to taking Master Reggie, as usual, to give his children their breakfast. But my mistress came to the door, which was standing open, with a letter in her hand.

"Peter," she said, "Master Reggie is not at all well; he seems to have taken cold; he will not be able to go out to-day. I want you, instead, to take this letter for me. You are a good walker, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, "very good."

"It is to the doctor, Peter," she said; "he lives, as you know, at Calvington. Have you ever seen his house?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said; "isn't it a large red house, standing among a number of trees, not far from the station?"

"That's it, Peter," she said. "I am sorry Bessie is laid up with her bad foot. Bagot says she must not go out for some days yet; but if you walk steadily on, you will have plenty of time to get to Calvington before one o'clock, when the doctor is always at home, to receive any messages that have been left for him. Ask to see him yourself, Peter, and give him the letter; I am very anxious that he should come before night."

I set off at once for my long walk. It was a very sultry day, and it was a long time since we had had any rain, so the road was covered with thick white dust.

It was anything but a pleasant day for a walk, and I soon got very hot and tired. Twelve miles of this would be very wearying, I thought. And I wished very much that Bessie had been all right, for I could have driven to Calvington in a very short time.

When I was about two miles on my way, I came to a part of the road which ran very near the sea, and here I overtook a lad who came sometimes to Grassbourne, when we wanted an extra hand to dig up potatoes, or to weed, or to do any odd job we might have on hand in the garden. His name was Jack Anderson, and Bagot did not like him much, and was always very short with him; but his mother was a widow who lived in one of the cottages near, and my mistress pitied her, and for her sake was willing to give Jack a little work now and again.

"Hullo! Peter," he said, "where are you off to?"

When I told him, he gave a great groan of horror.

"Wouldn't be you," he said, "for a good deal."

"It is hot," I said, stopping under a tree to take off my hat, and to wipe the perspiration from my forehead; "there is not a breath of air!"

"I'll tell you what," said Jack, suddenly, "Mike will be up directly. He'll take your letter for you; he's going to Calvington."

"Who is Mike?" I said.

"Don't you know Mike?" he said. "He's McTaggart's youngest lad; his father has Canrobin Farm, away up on the hills. He's driving into Calvington with some parcels for his father, which have to go off by the one o'clock train. I saw him a few minutes since, calling for something at Kilgreggan House, a bit down this road by the sea. Oh, here he is!"

At this moment a light cart drove up, and in it was young McTaggart, in the midst of sacks and bundles and parcels. Jack told him my errand, and he said at once he would take the letter.

"Oh! But, Jack," I said, "maybe I ought not to give it to him. My mistress told me to go myself, and to give it to the doctor."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Jack, laughing heartily. "As if it mattered who took the letter, so long as the doctor gets it? and Mike will be there long before you would; so it's a good job, whichever way you look at it."

"Perhaps I had better go with Mike," I said, "if he'll be so good as to give me a lift."

"But Mike isn't coming back again," said Jack; "he's going to stay in Calvington all day at his aunt's; aren't you, Mike? And so you'd just have to toil these weary miles back again in the heat and dust. Don't be a fool now, Peter!"

I did not like being called a fool, and so, although my conscience told me I was doing wrong, I handed my letter to Mike, and he drove away.

"Now come along with me, Peter," said Jack, when Mike had disappeared round a turning in the road.

"Come where?" I asked.

"Down to the sea," said Jack; "we can be there in three minutes across this field."

"Oh, no," I said. "I must go home now."

"Nonsense about going home!" he said. "That's the very thing you mustn't do! Your mistress will soon smell a rat if you go home now. She'll want to know why you've been so quick, and then it will all come out. Let us see, if you walked to Calvington, you could not be back here before two o'clock at the earliest; so we've two hours and a half, at least, to enjoy ourselves. I'll take you to the Robber's Cave. You've never seen it, have you?"

"No, never," I said. "I should like to see it very much; but I think I ought to go back."

"Don't be such a stupid!" said Jack, as he sprang over the stile which led into the field.

I knew I was doing wrong, and yet I followed him, for—I am ashamed to say—I was afraid of him. I could not bear to be laughed at, or to be called a fool or a stupid, so I did what my conscience told me, again and again, that I ought not to do.

Yet for a time all seemed very pleasant. I told conscience to be quiet, and made up my mind to enjoy myself till two o'clock.

It was cool and pleasant by the sea, and we had a bathe, and then we climbed along the cliff to the Robber's Cave. It was a very curious place, and we examined every nook and corner of it, and we sat inside it for some time, for it was so pleasant and refreshing to get out of the glare and heat of the sun.

But while we were sitting down in the cave talking and laughing we suddenly heard a rumble of distant thunder.

"It seems to be a storm coming up," said Jack; "let's climb up and see."

The sky was wonderfully changed since we went into the cave about half an hour before; it was quite black now, and the birds flew about wildly in all directions.

We climbed down from the cave, and picked our way along the shore over the rough rocks and shingles, until we came to the pathway leading up to the top of the cliffs. As we went along, the storm increased; and by the time we reached this path it had begun to rain.

"We shall have a pelter in a minute," said Jack; "let's run for it."

We went at a tremendous pace up the cliff, and then tore across the field, for the rain was coming down very fast now. We did not stop to breathe till we had rushed through the open door of a public-house which stood on the road, about a hundred yards from the path leading down to the sea.

"Now," said Jack, "we're all right; that was well done! But we're only just in time," he said, as there came a vivid flash of lightning, a loud clap of thunder, and a tremendous downpour of rain.

"What will you drink, Peter?" he said. "Whiskey or beer?"

"Nothing, thank you," I said; "I never take anything of the kind."

"Oh, rubbish," he said; "you must drink something. Now you've come to take shelter here, for the good of the house you couldn't be so mean as to come in and to take nothing."

A third time conscience raised her warning voice, and a third time I would not listen to her, and for the very same reason—because I was a coward, afraid to do that which I knew was right.

"Two for whiskey," said Jack to the landlord, as he opened the door of the little inn parlor.

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