"That is so. Still I hope there may be indications we cannot mistake, and then I shall know what to do. It is, as you can understand, a matter that has caused me no little concern." "Naturally. By God's help we will make men of both of them. The rest we must trust to Providence." Sir Denzil's pinch of snuff cast libellous doubts on Providence. "You design them for the army, I presume?" asked Eager. "Unless one should show an inclination for the Church," said the old cynic suavely. "Which I should be inclined to look upon as a clear indication of his origin." "I'm not so sure of that," said Eager, with a smile. "The Church has its heroes no less than the army." "You will find them difficult to handle." "We shall soon be good friends. I'm going to begin by teaching them to swim." Sir Denzil looked at him thoughtfully and said: "That might undoubtedly relieve the situation. It is a dangerous coast. If you could drown one of them for me----" "I am going to make men of them. I can't make a man out of a drowned boy. I will take every care of them, and some time you will be proud of them." "Of one of them possibly. The question is, which?" CHAPTER X GROWING FREEMEN The Rev. Charles was greatly uplifted as he tramped through the sand to keep his appointment with the boys. He had succeeded beyond his hopes, and a most congenial field of work and study lay open to his hand. "Catch them young," had been hammered into his heart and brain by his five years' work in East London. With heart and brain he had fought against the stolid indifference and active evil-mindedness of the grown-ups, till heart and brain grew sick at times. His greatest hopes had settled on the children, and here were two, of a different caste indeed, but as ignorant of the essentials as any he had met with--and they were given into his hand for the moulding. By God's help he would make men of them, high-born or baseborn. The side-issue was nothing to him, but it would add zest to the work. When he got, as he believed, into the neighbourhood of his previous day's adventure, he examined the ridge of sand-hills with care. But they were all so much alike that he could not be sure. He had hoped to find the boys on the look-out for him, but he saw no signs of them. He struggled up the yielding side of the nearest hill and looked round. If he could find their hole he would probably find them inside it or not far away. It was close on midday, baking hot, and the sand-hills seemed as deserted as Sahara. The sea lay fast asleep behind its banks, which reached to the horizon. When he looked back across the flats to Carne, he rubbed his eyes at sight of its stout walls bending and bowing and jigging spasmodically in an uncouth dance. The very wire-grass drooped listlessly. The only sound was the cheerful creak of a cricket.