Glyn Severn's Schooldays

by George Manville Fenn

“We shan’t be long now, Mr Severn, sir,” said Wrench, for each pail as it came up had for its contents half-water and half-mud, the sediment of many, many years. And at last Glyn’s heart began to throb, for hanging out over the side of the last-raised bucket was a long length of muddy string.

“Then I am right,” he said to himself. “How strange!” And as he followed to the mouth of the drain into which the contents of the pail were to be poured he caught hold of the string.

“Here, don’t do that, sir,” cried Wrench. “You’ll cover yourself with mud. Let me,” and before the boy could stop him the man had snatched the string from his hand and drawn it out.

“Broken away,” said Glyn to himself, as the end was drawn from the bucket, and he now peered anxiously into the pail, expecting to see one end of the long morocco case standing up out of the thick contents.

But as the half-fluid mud was poured away the empty bucket went down and its fellow rose similarly filled.

Glyn expected to see the rest of the string, for nothing like half of that which he believed he had lost had come up.

Again he was disappointed, for there was neither string nor case, and for some time bucket after bucket rose, at first full of mud, but by slow degrees containing half, a quarter, and then only a small portion of mud and water at a time, while each time the empty ones reached the bottom a hollow scraping sound arose, as by clever manipulation of the rope by Wrench they were dragged along the bottom.

“I say, Mr Severn, sir,” he cried, “who’d ever have thought that there was all that mud under the beautiful clear water? Ah, it must be a mort of years since it was cleared out, and now we are at it we will do it well—let the water come in a little and give it a good wash out two or three times over. I won’t let it fill up at all till we have scraped this all clear. That’s the way to do it,” he continued, giving the rope a swing so as to turn the bucket on its side and scrape it along the bottom. “Hear that, sir? All hard stone at the bottom down there, and mud and mud. Now, I half-expected to find a lot of things that had fallen down, and the hoops of some old bucket that had been lost.”

Glyn started at the man’s words, and saw in his mind’s eye the long red morocco case, blackened now and saturated with water, while he wondered what effect the moisture would have had on the beautiful gold-embroidered leather of the belt.

“Yes,” continued Wrench, giving Glyn as he stood close beside the mouth of the well what seemed to the boy a malicious grin, “I did expect to find something curious down there; but the buckets run easily over the bottom, and there don’t seem to be—yes, there is,” he shouted excitedly. “Nothing like patience in fishing. I have got a bite.”