"But I don't recollect seeing this gra.s.s in the morning," he thought; and then he stopped short, for it suddenly occurred to him that he had not come upon the cl.u.s.ter of houses where the people smiled and nodded at one another as they pa.s.sed.

"I can't have trailed off into another road, can I?" he said to himself, as he felt quite startled and turned hot.

He looked round, but it was too dark to make out anything, and he was about to start on again, comforting himself with the idea that he must be right, when he heard at a distance the _pat-pat_ of feet on hard ground, and drew back close up to the side to stoop down among some brambles, which told him at once after their fashion what they were.

"If I only dared ask whoever this is," thought Archy, "I should do."

His thoughts took another direction directly, for, apparently about twenty yards away, he heard some one sneeze, and then mutter impatiently, followed by another sneeze.

And all the while the regular _pat-pat_ of footsteps came from his right, but not as he had come, for the sound was as if some one was approaching by a road which came at right angles to the one he was in.

Archy crouched there, breathless and listening, wondering who the man could be who was perfectly silent now, but he had not moved away unless the turf had silenced his footprints.

"How lucky it was I stopped!" thought the midshipman. "I should have walked right on to him and been caught."

The steps came nearer, and at last it seemed as if they were going to pa.s.s on, when a gruff voice from close by said,--

"Well, lad?"

There was a sudden stoppage, and an exclamation, and--

"Made me jump, master."

"Don't talk foolery," said the first voice in impatient tones, and to Archy it was unmistakable. He had heard both voices before. "What have you made out?"

"Nothing."

"No boat landed?"

"Nor no sign o' one, master. Both lads swear as no one has pa.s.sed along the lane."

"Wouldn't take the upper lane, would they?"

"Not likely."

"Upper lane!" thought Archy. Had he taken the upper lane in the darkness, and so missed the men on the watch?

"Didn't hear the sailors say nothing on the cutter, did you?"

"Not a word."

The middy's heart seemed to give a throb. He did know that voice then.

It was that of the man who had been detained with the boy, and this other, he was sure, was the voice of the farmer.

"Going to keep on watching?"

"Of course. They'll be up to some game to trap us safe. Ought to get that stuff away."

"No, I wouldn't, master; it's safe enough now."

"You're a fool," came back in a savage growl. "Anybody but you and that mole-eyed boy would have seen the kegs before them sailors."

"Did see 'em--when it was too late," grumbled the other.

"Well, go back; and take off them boots, and hang 'em round your neck.

I could hear you a mile away."

"Right."

"Go and tell 'em to keep a sharp look-out in the cove, and then to run the moment a boat comes in sight."

"No boat won't come in sight to-night. Dark."

"Then the moment you hear one."

"They won't come to-night, master."

"Go and do as I tell you," said the other savagely.

"It's the farmer and his man," thought the listener; "and there is something wrong."

He wondered what he had better do. Should he give notice to them on the cutter?

The answer came at once. How could he? He had made no plans for that.

"Off you go," was said roughly, and the rustling sound seemed to indicate that the man had gone back toward the cove.

Archy listened patiently for the next movement of the farmer, but he could detect nothing, and he was feeling sure that the man was still watching and listening, when he heard a sneeze at a distance followed by a muttering sound, and knew that he must have moved off.

Without a moment's hesitation the lad followed, keeping along the gra.s.sy marge of the road, and listening intently to make out at last the dull sound of steps, which told that the man who made them was walking barefoot.

As far as he could judge now, Archy was in the proper road, and as he walked along he tried to understand what was going on, coming at last to the conclusion at which he had at first jumped, that something would be done that night if the farmer and his people were certain that they would not be disturbed.

As he thought he walked cautiously on, wondering what he had better do, and seeing at last a bright light in front high up a slope, and another away to his right much higher.

A little consideration told him that the first was at the farm; the other high up, facing toward the sea, must be up at the Hoze.

Trusting more to chance than plan, the midshipman went on and on, following Farmer Shackle; the task becoming easy now, for as he neared the lights the man grew more careless, so that it was easy to trace his movements, which were evidently homeward, till a few minutes later Archy saw him pa.s.s the glowing window, swing open a door from which came a burst of light, pa.s.s in, and the door was closed.

Archy stood outside with a vague belief that before long the man would come out, and perhaps go to the spot where the cargo was hidden.

As he waited he could not help turning his eyes in the direction of the long, solitary house in the patch of woodland, and found himself wondering whether he should ever go up there again.

After waiting about a quarter of an hour outside the farm, with his back against one of the roughly piled-up stone walls of the district, Archy began to think it was very dull, and his expectations of a discovery or an adventure grew less and less. All was very quiet at the farm, so quiet that he determined at last to go and peer in at the window to see if the farmer was likely to come out again, because if this were not so he was wasting his time.

"But they are not likely to do anything without him," he thought.

Advancing cautiously, he entered the garden, and was just going up to the window, when the door was thrown open, and he dropped down behind a bush as the farmer strode out.