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The Parson ran down into the cellar. Blob's lantern glimmered on the floor, but there was no Blob. He felt the door, cold to his hands as a corpse. It was shut fast as death. The catch had snapped; but the bolts were not home. His first impulse was to open; his second to refrain. A man with a musket anywhere in the drain could not miss him.
This is a job for officers." He began to paddle out, the ripples playing about his ankles. Blob's presence braced him to his task. It called to his spirit of a gentleman. He would just show this lout what blood meant. Blob followed him with awed eyes. "She's aloive," he warned his brother-boy. "She'll swallow ee." "No, she won't," Kit replied. "She's an old friend of mine."
"Oh, yes, we know all about that," observed Barbara. "It was quite dusk, mamma, and Johnnie had stuck up the kitchenmaid's great mop, leaning against the roof of Blob's kennel, where he often sits when he is sulky. We all went to see the fun, and Cray thrust his face into it. It looked just like Blob's head."
The Medusa had gone about and was rocking lazily home, the land misty on her larboard. Forward a knot of tars were gathered, Blob's cherub-face for centre-piece. The lad was telling his tale in his slow, musical way. A hoary old sea-dog with unlaughing eyes was putting leading questions. The men crowded round with grins and thrusting heads. They spat; they chewed; they nudged each other.
"He's been with us ever since. Piper's been tryin to make a Christian of him." "What's his story?" "I don't know, and he can't tell us. He knows nothing not even fear. I call him Blob, because blob's his nature. Piper found the name Hoad on his shirt. I daresay his people sold him to the Gap Gang; and they kept him." "To be cruel to?" shuddered Kit. "Not they," laughed the Parson.
"'This can wait, I said. 'I'll use you first, and shoot you afterwards!" The blood stole back to the Parson's face. His eyes lifted, twinkling now. "It's resource that makes the soldier, you know, Kit. I slipped into my old regimentals, gave Knapp his bugle, clapped a shako on Blob's head, and put the two of them behind the shingle-bank to act as a skeleton-force.... And you know the rest."
As he shuffled rapidly along he saw the patch of light on the floor beneath the man-hole. But was he mistaken? or was not that patch, dim and dappled before, bright now as the moon? He stopped. His heart was thumping so that he almost expected the covering drain to crack, and reveal him to the world. Suddenly the patch vanished. All was darkness save the red eye of Blob's lantern far away.
Whoever else might find the situation unsatisfactory it was not Parson Joy. "That is the first part of the story, and the least," said the Parson. "And while I'm telling you the rest you'd better have some grub." He reached up to a rafter. "I keep the tackle up here out of Blob's way. The boy's all belly ain't you, you young shark?" Blob stroked his waist feelingly.
Ah! ye may laugh, but it's truth I'm tellin'. See, there's a blob on the ind of it as big as a chirry!" "That blob's always there, Paddy," cried one of the men; "it's a grog-blossom." "There now, Peter, don't become personal. But tell me ye've got him, av coorse?" "No, we haven't got him," growled Crossby. "Well, now, you're a purty lot o' hunters. Sure if "
"Take the consequences yourself!" roared the Parson "you and your river dirties. I'll see your friends hung high as Haman yet." The other shook his head. "You won't live to see that, dear man," he said quietly, and turned away. Kit was in the cellar stripping his belt and cartridge-pouch from Blob's Grenadier. As he rose from his knees Piper hailed him. "Mr. Joy callin you, sir."
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