Chapter Thirty Two.
A Night on Scafell Pike.
Off at last! Hard work to get off, though; as if a fellow of fifteen wasn’t old enough to take care of himself. Mother cut up as much as if I’d asked leave to go to my own funeral—said I was too young, and knew nothing of the world, and all that sort of thing. But I don’t see what knowing the world has to do with a week’s tramp in the Lakes; not much of the world there—anyhow, where I mean to go.
I’ve got it all up in the guide-book, and written out my programme, and given them my address for every day, and promised to keep a diary, and always sleep between blankets, for fear the sheets shouldn’t be aired—and what more can a fellow do?
Well, then mother said I must promise to keep in the valleys, and not attempt to climb any of the mountains. Oh, ah! lively work that would be. I might just as well stay at home and walk round Russell Square fifty times a day; and I said so, and repeated off from memory what the guide-book says about the way up Helvellyn. This last fetched them rather, and convinced them I wasn’t undertaking what I didn’t know all about. So at last father said, “Let the boy go, it may do him good and teach him self-reliance.”
“But what’ll be the good of that,” sobs mother, “if my Bartholomew falls over a precipice and never comes home?”
“Oh, I’ll promise not to fall over a precipice,” said I.
And at last it was settled, and here I am in the train, half-way to Windermere.
Just been looking through my knapsack. Frightful nuisance! Had it weighed at Euston, and it weighs 4 pounds 8 ounces. I wanted to keep it under 4 pounds! Must be the spare shirt the girls insisted on my bringing, as if I couldn’t wash the one I’ve got on in half a dozen waterfalls a day, and just run myself dry afterwards! Don’t see what I can throw out. Must take the guide-book, and boot-laces, and needle and worsted for my blisters, and a collar for Sunday, and a match-box, and this diary book and a night-shirt. Bother that extra eight ounces.
I’m certain it will drag me down. By the way there are the sandwiches and apples! Suppose I eat them now, that’ll make it all right. Good thought that. Here goes!