Roger set about returning presently, when he found that nothing could be got from the cow. He took his boiler on board, and pulled himself in by the line, without troubling himself to paddle.

When he came in at the window, he threw down the pitcher, swearing at himself for the trouble he had taken about a good-for-nothing beast that had been standing starving in the water till she had not a drop of milk to give. He looked at Oliver, as if rather surprised that he did not speak; but Oliver took no notice of him.

It was a hare that Roger had in his boiler,--a hare that had, no doubt, leaped into the boiler when pressed by a still more urgent danger than sailing down the stream in such a boat. Roger had cut her throat with his pocket-knife; and there she lay in her own blood.

"Don't you touch that," said Roger, as he landed his booty upon the window-sill. "If you lay a finger on that, it will be the worse for you. They are mine--both puss and the boiler."

Still Oliver did not speak. He wondered what Roger meant to do with these things, if n.o.body else was to touch them.

Roger soon made it clear what his intentions were. He whistled to his dog, which scampered down-stairs to him from the top of the house; put dog, puss, and boiler into the clothes' basket, and pulled himself over with them to the Red-hill, taking care to carry the tinder-box with him.

There he made a fire, skinned and cooked his hare, and, with his dog, made a feast of it, under a tree.

n.o.body grudged him his feast; though the children were sorry to find that any one could be so selfish. Ailwin was glad to be rid of him, on any terms; and, as soon as Oliver was sure that he was occupied for some time to come, so that he would not be returning to make mischief, he resolved to go over to the cow, and give her something better than kicks;--food, if, as he thought, he could procure some. Saying nothing to any one, he tied the tub-line to a bed-post, as being more trustworthy still than the heavy chair, and carried with him the great knife that the meat had been cut with the evening before. He made for the stable first, and joined the rope he knew to be there to his line, so as to make it twice the length it was before. He could now reach the field behind the stable, where the corn, just turning from green to yellow, had been standing high at this hour yesterday. He had to paddle very carefully here, lest his tub should be knocked to pieces against the stone wall. But the wall, though not altogether thrown down, had so many breaches made in it, that he found himself in the field, without exactly knowing whether he had come through the gate-posts or through the wall. He lost no time in digging with his paddle; and, as he had hoped, he turned up ears of corn from under the water, which he could catch hold of, a handful at a time, and cut off with his knife. It was very tiresome, slow work; and sometimes he was near losing his paddle, and sometimes his knife. He persevered, however: now resting for a minute or two, and then eating a few of the ears, and thinking that only very hungry people could swallow them, soaked as they were with bad water. He ate more than he would have done, remembering that the more he took now, the less he should want of the portion he meant to carry to the house, when he should have fed the cow. He hoped they should obtain some better food; but, if no flour was to be had, and no other vegetable than this, it would be better than none.

When he reached the cow, she devoured the heads of corn ravenously. She could not have appeared better satisfied with the sweetest spring gra.s.s.

It was a pleasure to see her eyes as she lay, receiving her food from Oliver's hand. He emptied out all he had brought beside her, and patted her, saying he hoped she would give George some milk in the afternoon, in return for what had been done for her now.

Oliver felt so tired and weak when he got home with his tub half full of soaked corn ears, that he felt as if he could not do anything more. He was very near crying when he found that there was not a morsel to eat; that the very water was too bad to drink; and that there was no fire, from Roger having carried off the tinder-box. But George was crying with hunger; and that made Oliver ashamed to do the same, and put him upon thinking what was to be done next.

Ailwin was the only person who, being as strong as Roger could have got anything from him by force; and there was no use in asking Ailwin to cross the bridge-rope, or to do anything which would bring her nearer to the boy she feared so much. Besides that, Roger had carried over the clothes' basket without leaving any line to pull it back by. Oliver felt that he (if he were only a little less hungry and tired) could make the trip in a sack, or a tub, or even a kettle; but a tall woman like Ailwin could cross in nothing smaller than the missing clothes' basket.

It was clear that Oliver alone could go; and that he must go for the tinder-box before any comfort was to be had.

He made up his mind to this, therefore; and having, with Ailwin's help, slung the useful tub upon the bridge-rope, so that he might start the first moment that Roger should be out of sight or asleep, he rested himself in the window, watching what pa.s.sed on the Red-hill. He observed that Roger seemed quite secure that no one could follow him, as he had carried off the basket. There he lay, near the fire, eating the meat he had broiled, and playing with his dog. It seemed to the hungry watchers as if he meant to lie there all day. After awhile, however, he rose, and sauntered towards the trees, among which he disappeared, as if going to the other side of the hill, to play, or to set his dog upon game.

Oliver was off, sliding along the bridge-rope in his tub. He did not forget to carry the line with which to bring back the basket. It seemed to him that Roger intended to live by himself on the Red-hill; and to this none of the party had any objection. He had swum over to the house once, when the stream was higher and more rapid than now; and he could come again, if he found himself really in want of anything; so that n.o.body need be anxious for him. Meantime, no one at the house desired his company. Oliver therefore took with him a blanket and a rug, and a knife and fork for his accommodation.

He alighted under the beech without difficulty, and laid down the articles he brought under the tree, where Roger would be sure to see them. He took the flint and the tinder from the tinder-box, and pocketed them, leaving the steel and the box for Roger's use, as there were knives at home, and Roger might perhaps find a flint on the hill.

There were plenty in the quarry. Oliver knew he must be quick; but he could not help looking round for something to eat,--some one of the many animals and birds that he knew to be on the hill, and heard moving about him on every side. But he had no means of catching any. The bones of the hare were lying about, picked quite clean by the dog; but not a morsel of meat was left in sight.

Something very precious, however, caught Oliver's eye;--a great heap of pebbly gravel thrown up by the flood. The water in the Levels was usually so bad that the settlers had to filter it; and Oliver knew that no water was purer than that which had been filtered through gravel. He believed now that poor George could have a good drink of water, at least; and he scooped up with his hands enough gravel to half fill the tub. It took a long time to heap up as much as he could carry upon the rug; and then it was hard work to empty it into the tub; and he fancied every moment that he heard Roger coming. It was a pity he did not know that Roger had fallen fast asleep in the sun, on the other side of the hill; and that his dog lay winking beside him, not thinking of stirring.

One thing more must be had;--chips for fuel. When Oliver had got enough of these, and of sticks too, he found courage and strength to stay a few minutes more, to make up such a fire for Roger as would probably last till after he should have discovered the loss of the flint, and so prevent his being without fire till he could find another flint. In order to give him a broad hint, Oliver spread out the blanket on the ground, and set the tinder-box in the middle of it, where it would be sure to invite attention. He then climbed into the tub, and was glad to be off, drawing the basket with the fire-wood after him.

"Here, Ailwin," said he, faintly, as he reached the window, "take the flint and the tinder, and the wood in the basket, and make a fire. I have brought you nothing to eat."

"No need!" said Ailwin, with an uncommonly merry countenance.

"You must broil the green corn, unless we can manage to get a fowl from across the yard. But I really cannot go any more errands till I am rested," said Oliver, dismally.

"No need, Oliver dear!" said Ailwin again.

"What do you think we have found to eat?" cried Mildred, from the stairs.--"What is the matter with him, Ailwin? Why does not he speak?"

"He is so tired, he does not know what to do," said Ailwin. "No, don't get down into the water again, dear. I'll carry you. Put your arm round my neck, and I'll carry you."

And the good-natured woman carried him up to the roof, and laid him down on a bundle of bedding there, promising to bring him breakfast presently. She threw an ap.r.o.n over his head, to cover it from the hot sun, and bade him lie still, and not think of anything till she came.

"Only one thing," said Oliver. "Take particular care of the gravel in the tub."

"Gravel!" exclaimed Ailwin. "The fowls eat gravel; but I don't see that we can. However, you shall have your way, Oliver."

The tired boy was asleep in a moment. He knew nothing more till he felt vexed at somebody's trying to wake him. It was Mildred. He heard her say,--

"How very sound asleep he is! I can't make him stir. Here, Oliver,-- just eat this, and then you can go to sleep again directly."

He tried to rouse himself, and sat up; but his eyes were so dim, and the light so dazzling, that he could not see, at first, what Mildred had in her hands. It was one of her mother's best china plates,--one of the set that was kept in a closet up-stairs; and upon it was a nice brown toasted fish, steaming hot.

"Is that for me?" asked Oliver, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, indeed, for who but you?" said Ailwin, whose smiling face popped up from the stairs. "Who deserves it, if you do not, I should like to know? It is not so good as I could have wished, though, Oliver. I could not broil it, for want of b.u.t.ter and everything; and we have no salt, you know. But, come! Eat it, such as it is. Come, begin!"

"But have you all got some too?" asked the hungry boy, as he eyed the fish.

"Oh, yes,--George and all," said Mildred. "We ate ours first, because you were so sound asleep, we did not like to wake you."

"How long have I been asleep?" asked Oliver, beginning heartily upon his fish. "How could you get this nice fish? How busy you must have been all this time that I have been asleep!"

"All this time!" exclaimed Mildred. "Why, you have been asleep only half an hour; hardly so much. We have only just lighted the fire, and cooked the fish, and fed Geordie, and put him to sleep, and got our own breakfast;--and we were not long about that,--we were so very hungry!

That is all we have done since you went to sleep."

"It seems a great deal for half an hour," said Oliver. "How good this fish is! Where did you get it?"

"I found it on the stairs. Ah! I thought you would not believe it; but we shall find more, I dare say, as the water sinks; and then you will believe what you see."

"On the stairs! How did it get there?"

"The same way that the water got there, I suppose, and the poor little drowned pig that lay close by the same place. There was a whole heap of fish washed up at the turn of the stairs; enough for us all to-day.

Ailwin said we must eat them first, because the pig will keep. Such a nice little clean sucking-pig!"

"That puts me in mind of the poor sow," said Oliver. "I forgot her when we were busy about the cow. I am afraid she is drowned or starved before this; but we must see about it."

"Not now," said Mildred. "Do you go to sleep again now. There is not such a hurry as there was, the waters are going down so fast."

"Are they, indeed?--Oh, I do not want to sleep any more. I am quite wide awake now. Are you sure the flood is going down?"

"Only look! Look at that steep red bank on the Red-hill, where it was all a green slope yesterday, and covered with water this morning. Look at the little speck of a hillock, where neighbour Gool's house was. We could not see that this morning, I am sure. And if you will come down, you will find that there is scarcely any water in the upper rooms now.

Geordie might play at paddling there, as he is so fond of doing in his tub. Ailwin thinks we might sleep there to-night, if we could only get everything dried."

"We might get many things dried before night, in such a sun as this.

How very hot it is!"

Oliver ran down, and convinced himself that the flood was abating fast.

It must have swelled up higher within the house than outside; for it had sunk three feet in the upper rooms, and two on the outer walls of the house. Now that the worst of the danger seemed to be past, the children worked with fresh spirit, making all possible use of the sunshine for drying their bedding and clothes, in hopes of sleeping in a chamber this night, instead of on the house-top, which they had feared would be necessary. Nothing could have made them believe, if they had been told at sunrise, how cheerfully they would sit down, in the afternoon, to rest and talk, and hope that they might, after all, meet their father and mother again soon, alive and well.

CHAPTER SIX.