It was more open here, and in consequence a patch of bracken had run up to a goodly height, spreading its fronds toward the light, but there was nothing visible as Tom turned slowly upon his heels, till he was looking nearly straight back along the way he had come, and then, quick as thought, he dropped down amongst the bracken, and crept on hands and knees till, still sheltered by it, he could watch the object he had seen.
That object was Pete Warboys, who had suddenly risen up out of the earth, and stood yawning and stretching himself, ending by giving one of his shoulders a good rasp against a fir-tree.
“Why, he must have been sleeping there,” thought Tom, “and I must have passed close to his hole. What an old fox he is. Hullo! there’s the dog.”
For the big mongrel suddenly appeared, and sprang up so as to place its paws upon its master’s breast, apparently as a morning greeting. But this was not received in a friendly way.
“Get out!” growled Pete, kicking the dog in the leg. There was a loud yelp, and Pete shook himself and began to slouch away.
Tom watched him till he had disappeared among the trees, and then went back over his track till he stood close to the spot whence the lad had appeared. Here Tom looked round, but nothing was visible till he had gone a few yards to his right, when, to his surprise, he came to the side of the opening down in which was the side hole running beneath the roots of the great fir.
Tom had another look back, and, seeing nothing, he leaped down on to the soft sand, felt in his pocket, and brought out a tin box of wax-matches. Then, dropping upon his knees, he lit one, and holding it before him, crept under the roots and into a little cave like a low rugged tunnel scooped out of the sandy rock, and in one corner of which was a heap of little pine boughs, and an exceedingly dirty old ragged blanket.
By this time Tom’s match went out, and he lit another, after carefully placing the burnt end of the first in his pocket.
This light gave him another view of the little hole, for it was quite small, but there was not much to see. There were the leaves and blanket, both still warm; there was a stick, and a peg driven into the side, on which hung a couple of wires; and some pine-tree roots bristled from the top and sides. That was all.
“No pears, not even a plum-stone,” said Tom, in a disappointed tone, for he had pictured this hole from which he had seen Pete issue as a kind of robber’s cave, in which he would find stored up quantities of stolen fruit, and perhaps other things that would prove to be of intense interest.