WAS IT A DREAM?

THE voyage was safely over, but it was late in the afternoon by the time the boys were able to land, as the tide was out, and the schooner had to wait for some hours before there was water enough for her to enter the harbour. Nothing more was said about the police, and the skipper parted from them kindly, though not without a warning word to Tom.

"See that you don't get into any more mischief, Charles Harris," said he, "dragging your young brother along with you, or else—"

"Please, sir, he's not my—" began Davey, but Tom pulled him roughly away.

"You needn't go and put your foot in everything," he growled. "Now come along; brothers or no brothers, we've got to stick together. We're in the same boat, and if we separate, one has to go 'overboard;' just you remember that!"

Tenby sixty years ago was not what Tenby is now. The town was much smaller, and consisted of a very different class of houses. Upon St. Catherine's Mount (the little rocky islet off the south-east shore), there was no fort at that time, but only a coast-guard's hut or two, whence a look-out was kept for smugglers. The sand hills were not so extensive as they are at present, and the marsh—some of which is now redeemed, and used as grazing ground—was a big expanse of dreary swamp, haunted by the heron and other long-legged waders.

Coming up from the harbour, the lads found their way into the town, where there were some shops and a market. Here, with the shilling that each of them had earned in helping to load the schooner, they bought some bread and cheese. And Davey, in addition, purchased a piece of soap and two cheap cotton handkerchiefs, also a yard of coarse unbleached stuff to serve for a towel; and on these his last penny was spent. As for Tom, he had a deep-rooted dislike to soap and water, and only jeered at what he considered Davey's luxurious habits.

As the two lads were walking up the main street, their attention was attracted to a goldsmith's shop, in which some tempting wares were displayed. Just then a gentleman passed them and entered the shop, and as the lads peered through the glass, they saw a number of things taken out of the window to be shown to him. Suddenly the young man who was serving him, gave a tilt to a tray of trinkets which he was lifting out of the window on to the counter, and two of them—a little golden ball locket and a ring with a red stone—rolled away towards the door.

In one moment, Tom had sprung to the doorway and picked up the trinkets. With a rapid movement, he slipped the ring into his mouth, holding it in his cheek. Then, with the golden ball between his finger and thumb, he entered the shop, and touching his cap, handed the locket to the young man.

"This was just by the doorway, sir," said Tom, "and happening to see it, I picked it up; having been brought up honest, me and my young brother, of course I could do no other than bring it in to you, poor as we are."

"Thank you, my lad," said the shopman, "and here's a shilling for you!"

Tom touched his cap again with a "Thank you kindly, sir," and joining Davey outside, surprised him very much by hurrying him away through the town till they reached the corner where a road ran down a steep hill, and out into the country.

"What's wrong, Tom?" enquired Davey, pausing breathless at this corner. "Why are you hurrying so?"

"Let's get right away out of this, and I'll tell you, or rather I'll show you something," replied Tom.

Very soon they got into a quiet country road, with the marsh below them on the left, and rising ground with fields and woods to their right.

Then, with a furtive look round, Tom took the ring out of his mouth, and holding it up in the waning light said, "Now then, Davey! What do you think of that?"

Davey was struck dumb with amazement and horror, and Tom began to boast of his cleverness in getting possession of the ring, while receiving also a shilling for his honesty. But when Davey still kept silence, the elder lad turned to him impatiently.

"What now, Baby-face? Can't you speak? My eye! What a look you've got on you!"

"Tom Hughes," said Davey at last, "I can't stand this sort of thing no longer. Me and you have got to part. Tell me which way you want to go, and I'll go the other. I've been wrong enough anyway, but I won't be mixed up with any more wickedness, so I tell you! Now look here! Here's two roads, which will you take? And then we part for good."

Tom burst out laughing, and put the ring away in his pocket.

"You little ass!" he said. "You don't think you're going to shake me off so easy? Why, you dear innocent boy, that pretty face of yours will be worth ten shillings a week to me some day. Part? No, indeed. Come along, it's getting near nightfall, and we must find some place to sleep in. We've got our suppers with us, and had a drink at the spring up yonder, so now all we want is a good sleeping-place. Look over there; do you see that wood on the hill? We can find some quiet sheltered place there, I'm sure. Come, Davey!" And hooking his arm in that of his reluctant companion, they followed the road till they came to a narrow lane, leading away to the right.

"This will take us straight there," said Tom.

And the two lads walked along the lane, in the deepening twilight, and then up a short, but steep ascent. This brought them into a wood, where, to their left, rose a huge rock, and in its face gaped a great mouth, black as night itself, while round it grew ivy, and moss, and lichens, like coarse hair upon some giant's cheeks and chin.

"Why, look, here's a cave!" cried Tom. "It must be nice and dry up here on the hill. Come and let's see if we can't find a good place for a bed."

So saying, Tom cautiously entered the cavern, followed by Davey. They felt their way about, now and then stumbling—in the darkness—over a stone, but at last they reached an angle in the rocky wall where the floor of the cave was level, and where they would be sheltered from the wind.

"Come now, I call this fine!" said Tom, with a deep breath of satisfaction, as he rested his crooked shoulders against the rock, and pulled out of his pocket the parcel containing his supper.

Davey ate his own portion almost in silence. His companion's presence was becoming intolerable to him. Now, as never before, he realised what he had brought upon himself by that wrong step which he had taken; for had he not become, by his own act in the first instance, a fugitive and a vagabond upon the face of the earth? Heavy hearted, almost in despair, he at last fell asleep, though not until Tom had been snoring for an hour or so in his own place a few yards away.

And while Davey slept, a very strange dream came to him. He thought that as he was lying there, he saw standing over him a tall, dark-draped form, holding a torch, which shed a red light all about the cave, and illuminated with a lurid glare a long, white face, and two great dark eyes, with a shadow as of death about them. And then he thought that the pale lips moved, and that a doleful voice half moaned, half chanted these words,—

"Woe to the evil-doers! Woe to them that lead the young astray! Woe to the secret dwellers in dark places, when destruction shall come upon them! Behold, I am seeking, and ever seeking, but I find him not; that son—that son, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow."

Then it seemed to Davey as if he started up out of his sleep and looked about him. Was that the flare of a torch just disappearing through the cave entrance? Did he catch a feeble echo of the chanting cry, "Woe to them! Woe!" or was it indeed only a dream?

Tom was breathing heavily, and did not appear to have stirred. All around was still as the grave.

Davey's heart was thumping at a dreadful rate, but by and by, he persuaded himself that he had only been dreaming, and lay down again to sleep fitfully until morning.