Snap: A legend of the Lone MountainPhillipps-Wolley, Clive
General
Snap: A legend of the Lone Mountain
Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
Canadian Rockies (B.C. and Alta.) -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Mountaineering -- Fiction
'No, not the Castle Connel, the Ogden; I shan't want it, and you will
take care of it, I know,' was the unexpected reply.
'Your Ogden, sir!' said Frank; 'why, I thought no one might look at
it from less than ten paces.'
'You're an impertinent young monkey, Frank,' laughed the Admiral,
'but still you may have it.'
And so it was settled that the Magpie match should be given up, and
Frank and Billy be packed off on a fishing tour in Wales, whilst
their mother and the Admiral went up to town and transacted the
troublesome business which had had the bad taste to demand their
attention during the Midsummer holidays.
A little later in the day a man came up from the village with a note
from Mr. Hales for the Admiral. The boys did not see it, but it was
understood to contain his consent in writing 'to the proposal that
Snap should join the expedition.' For the rest of that day all was
excitement and bustling preparations for a start. It seemed almost
as if they were preparing for something much more important than a
fortnight's trip into Wales. Snap was up at the house all day. That
with him was common enough. His own packing had not taken him long.
The boy was keener-eyed than his young companions, and, in spite of
an apparent roughness, was more sensitive to external influences than
either of them. Hence it was perhaps that he noticed what they
overlooked; noticed that Mrs. Winthrop's eyes followed her sons about
from room to room, that she seemed to dread to lose them from her
sight, that the dinner that night was what the boys called a birthday
dinner, that is, consisted of all the little dishes of which Mrs.
Winthrop knew each boy was specially fond, and what struck him more
than anything was that two or three times he was sure her eyes filled
with tears at some chance remark of Frank's or Willy's which to him
had no sad meaning in it. He was puzzled, and, worse than that,
'depressed.'
The start next morning was even less auspicious than 'packing-day'
had been. The midsummer weather seemed to have gone, and the gables
of the old house showed through a grey and rainy sky; rain knocked
the leaves off the roses, and battered angrily at the window-panes.
The pretty Tane was swollen and mud-coloured, and, altogether,
leaving home on a fishing trip to Wales felt worse than leaving home
the first time for school.
The Admiral had determined on seeing them on their way as far as the
county town, and drove to the station with them in the morning. If
it had not been so absolutely absurd, Snap would have fancied once or
twice that the old gentleman did not like any of the boys to be alone
with his neighbours, or even with the servants. It would have been
very unlike him if it had been the case, so of course Snap was
mistaken.
'Towzer,' asked Frank in a whisper as they drove away, 'what was the
Mater crying about?'
The Admiral overheard him, and replied:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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