CHAPTER THREE.

A GUNPOWDER PLOT.

We three boys sat down at the edge of the steepest side of the crags after this to rest, and think what we should do next, and to help our plans we amused ourselves by pitching pieces of loose stone down as far as we could.

Then the rope was dragged over the Beacon rock and coiled up, while I tugged and wriggled the iron bar to and fro till I could get it free.

"Let's go down to the sh.o.r.e now, and see if we can find some crabs," I said. "The tide's getting very low."

"What's the good?" said Bob picking up the iron bar, and chipping this stone and loosening that. "I say, why don't some of those stones rock?

They ought to."

He began to wander aimlessly about for a few minutes, and then, finding a piece that must have been about a hundredweight, he began to prise it about using the iron bar as a lever, and to such good effect that he soon had it close to the edge.

"Look here, lads," he cried, "here's a game! I'm going to send this rolling down."

We joined him directly, for there seemed to be a prospect of some amus.e.m.e.nt in seeing the heavy rugged ma.s.s go rolling down here, making a leap down the perpendicular parts there, and coming to an anchor somewhere many hundred feet below where we were perched.

For there was not even a sheep in sight, the side of the valley below us being a rugged ma.s.s of desolation, only redeemed by patches of whortleberry and purple heath with the taller growing heather.

"Over with it, Bob," cried Bigley; "shall I help?"

"No, no, you needn't help neither," said Bob. "I'm going to do it all myself scientifically, as Doctor Stacey calls it. This bar's a fulcrum."

"No, no," I said; "that isn't right."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bigley.

"Then what is it, please, Mr Clever? Doctor Stacey said bars were fulcrums, and you put the end under a big stone, and then put a little one down for a lever--just so, and then you pressed down the end of the bar--so, and then--"

"Oh! Look at it," cried Bigley.

For Bob had been suiting the action to the word, and before he realised what he was doing the effect of the lever was to lift the side of the big stone, so that it remained poised for a few moments and then fell over, gliding slowly for a few feet, and then gathering velocity it made a leap right into a heap of _debris_ which it scattered, and then another leap and another, followed by roll, rush, and rumble, till, always gathering velocity, amidst the rush and rattle of stones, it made one final bound of a couple of hundred feet at least, and fell far below us on a projecting ma.s.s of rock, to be shivered to atoms, while the sound came echoing up, and then seemed to run away down the valley and out to sea.

No one spoke for a few moments, for the feeling upon us was one of awe.

"I say, that was fine!" cried Bob at last. "Let's do another. You don't mind, do you, Sep?"

"N-no," I said, "I don't think it does any harm."

I spoke hesitatingly, as I could not help wondering what my father would have said had he been there.

"Come along," cried Bob, who was intensely excited now, "let's send a big one down."

His eagerness was contagious, and we followed him up a little along the edge of the steep cliff to find a bigger piece; but, though we could find plenty of small ones, which we sent bounding down by the help of the iron lever with more or less satisfactory results, the heavy ma.s.ses all seemed to have portions so wedged or buried in the live rock that our puny efforts were without avail.

"I tell you what," said Bigley at last, "I know!"

"What do you know?" cried Bob with a sneer, for somehow, though he could easily have taken us one under each arm, Bigley used to be terribly pecked by both.

For answer Bigley pointed up at the ragged comb-like ridge above us.

"Well, what are you doing that for?" cried Bob.

"Let's send down the big boulder."

We looked up at the great stone which we had long ago dubbed the Boulder, because it was so much like one of the well-rolled pieces on the sh.o.r.e, and there it lay a hundred feet beyond us, looking as if a touch would send it thundering down.

"Hooray!" cried Bob. "Why, I say, Sep, he isn't half such a stupid as you said he was."

"I didn't say he was stupid," I cried indignantly.

"Oh, yes, you did!" said Bob with a grin; "but never mind now. Come on, lads. I say, it's steeper there, and as soon as it comes down it will make such a rush."

"Can't hurt anything, can it?" I said dubiously.

"Yes; it'll hurt you if you stand underneath," said Bob grinning. "Come along. What can it hurt? Why, it wouldn't even hurt a sheep if there was one there. My! Wouldn't he scuttle away if he heard it coming."

Bob was right, there was nothing to harm, and the displacement of a big stone in what was quite a wilderness of rough fragments would not even be noticed. So up we climbed, and in a few minutes were well on the ridge grouped on one side of the big boulder.

"Now, then," Bob cried; "you are strongest, old Big, and you shall help her. Look here; I'll get the bar under, and Sep and I will hoist. Then you put your shoulder under this corner and heave, and over she goes."

"Bravo, skipper!" I said, for he gave his orders so cleverly and concisely that the task seemed quite easy.

"Wait a moment," he cried. "I haven't got the bar quite right. That's it. My! Won't it go!"

"_Pah_! _Tah_! _Tah_! _Tah_!" rang out over our heads just like a mocking laugh, as a couple of jackdaws flew past, their dark shadows seeming to brush us softly as they swept by.

"Now, then, Big. Don't stand gaping after those old powder-pates. Now: are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready," cried Bigley.

"And you, Sep? Come and catch hold of the bar. Now, then, altogether.

Heave up, Big. Down with it, Sep. Altogether. Hooray! And over she goes."

But over she did not go, for the great ma.s.s of stone did not budge an inch.

"Here, let's shift the bar, lads," cried Bob. "I haven't got it quite right."

He altered the position of the lever, thrusting in a piece of stone close under the rock so as to form a fulcrum, and then once more being quite ready he moistened his hands.

"Get your shoulder well under it, Big; shove down well, Sep, and we shall have such a roarer."

"Wait a moment," I said.

"What for?"