Fred spoke in a low excited whisper, just as if he had helped in the setting of a gin for some wild creature; and as he hurried Samson back toward the lake he turned once, full of exultation, and shook his follower warmly by the hand.
“What’s that there for?” said Samson, feigning ignorance, but with his eyes sparkling and his face bright with satisfaction.
“Because I feel so happy,” cried Fred. “It’s a long time since I have felt so satisfied as I do now.”
“Ah, I gets puzzleder and puzzleder,” said Samson, grimly, “more than ever I was. I never knowd why we all began fighting, and you don’t make it a bit clearer, Master Fred. I believe you’re a reg’lar sham, sir, pretendin’ that Master Scar’s your enemy, and all the time you seem as if you’d go through fire and water to help him. Why, we shall be having your father and Sir Godfrey shaking hands and dining together just as they did in the old times.”
“And you and Nat quarrelling good-temperedly again as to which is the best cider, that at the Manor or theirs at the Hall.”
“No, Master Fred; that’s going a little too far, sir. Eh? What say?”
“Look here; I’ll show you where the proper entrance to the passage is. That hole, as I told you, was only broken through.”
Fred turned off a little, and made his way down to the edge of the lake by the rocky bank where the birches drooped down till their delicate leaves nearly dipped in the water; and as they hung over, after a careful look round, Fred pointed out the opening.
“What! that little bit of a hole, sir?”
“That’s where Scarlett kicked out a stone or two. The whole of the rest of the arch is built up.”