most of andrew’s deep thinking was done in the wooden arm-chair by his own fireside. there he is seated, the evening after his interview with sir bevil by the cover, considering the plan of campaign against the badger. the only sound in the room is the click of his grandchild’s knitting-needles. vennie lies curled up on the floor at his feet. the light of the lamp falls on the earthstopper’s face, and betrays its absent expression. he is wandering in thought over the moors and hills around kenidzhek, and wondering which of the many earths he knows of, is the white badger’s. by careful examination, he will find sooner or later a few white bristles on the walls of one of them, which will give him the necessary clue. should this plan fail, he will propose watching the earths, and will request the squire to let him do so alone, lest the secret should leak out. harrowing will his vigils be in that weird district; but his fear of ridicule is greater than his fear of ghosts, and he would rather have his grey hairs blanched with fright than become the laughing-stock of the countryside.
“i hope thee’st nawthin’ troublin’ ee, granfer?” said the girl, who had been casting anxious glances from time to time at the old man.
“no, no, my dear, only i dropped across a badger laast night, and i’ve bin thinkin’ how i might come by hes eearth: i’m to see the squire about et furst thing in the mornin’.”
“but badgers are plenty enuf, granfer, i daresay vennie could find wan in a few minits ef you were to turn her out on the moor.”
“iss, iss, my dear, grey badgers es plenty enuf as you say, too plenty for me, the varmints; but ’twas a white wan i seed.”
“a white wan, granfer?”
“iss, a white wan; surely thee dosn’t misdoubt me, ravena?”
“no, no, granfer dear, i make no doubt thee didst see wan, and i do wish thee luck in catchen of un. you’ll dig it out, i s’pose?”
“iss, iss, the squire says theere’s only wan way of taakin’ a badger by fair play, and thet’s by diggin’ un out.”
“then you must find where et’s earth es, and that may take a bra’ passel of time.”
“ezackly so, the squire may fret and fume, but theere, nawthin’ can be done till we knaw wheere et es. now, my dear, let us be off upstairs for i’m tired.”
after kissing the child, he went to bed and slept soundly. he was early astir, lit the fire, as he always did when at home, and, whilst the kettle was boiling, fetched a pitcher of water from the spring, and some sods from the little turf-rick, for the day’s use. after breakfast he set out to lay his plans before the squire. he had no doubt that they would be accepted, for he could see no alternative, and in matters of this kind the squire had generally fallen in with his views. his surprise then at the sight that met his eyes as he entered the yard of the castle may be imagined. the head keeper was seated in a wagonette in charge of three terriers; opposite him was a farmhand with a collection of picks and spades; whilst the coachman, holding the reins in one hand, was putting a sack in the boot with the other. “well, well,” he muttered as he stood near the big gates like one frozen to the cobbles, “what in the world es the maanin’ of thes?” impulsive he knew the squire to be; but was there ever, thought he, such folly as all this preparation for digging out a badger without first knowing where it was? granting he had seen a white badger, its holt might be almost anywhere within four miles of the giant’s quoit where he had found the footprints, and inside that radius he knew of at least two score of earths: and was it possible that the squire could have said anything about the badger? these thoughts passed through the earthstopper’s mind as he stood there resting on his blackthorn like one “mazed,” whilst the men in the trap exchanged winks, and wondered what ailed him. there was one thing he could do, and would do, no matter what the consequences: that was to see the squire, and point out the absurdity of going on such an expedition.
“anythin’ amiss wi’ ee, an’rew? arn’t ee going to jump up? et’s a quarter to nine and we’ve bin ready since half-past eight.”
without replying to the keeper, he inquired rather sharply, “wheere’s the squire?”
“ee’s gone along these two hours and eh left word as you was to follow on.”
this made the blood mount to his cheek; and for a moment he thought of going back home and having nothing to do with the business. but mastering this impulse he walked up to the trap without a word—his lips were too tightly compressed to say anything—and took his seat by the side of the coachman. in a short time the wagonette was rattling along a country lane leading to the st just turnpike road.
“wheere are ee drivin’ to, coachman?” said andrew, by way of a feeler when he had found his tongue.
“my horders is to drive to william trevaskis’ farm as lies under the ’ooting cairn.”
“what’s up to taake the squire out so eearly?”
“hi don’t know that i can tell ee, but be careful ’ow you speaks to ’im; ee’s that hexcited, you’d think he’d lost the blackbird with a white topknot.”
andrew, who from the moment he had entered the stable-yard had been under the impression that everyone at the castle must have heard about the white badger, would have been hopeful now that such was not the case, were it not for an otherwise unaccountable grin that puckered the coachman’s cheek and the singularly jaunty way in which he handled the whip. however, he kept his misgivings to himself, and whilst seemingly engaged in following the fresh tracks of a horse that had galloped along the side of the road that morning, was ransacking his brain to remember whether he had ever seen a badger’s earth on cairn kenidzhek. the fact is, he knew much less of the hooting cairn than of any hill to the westward of crobben, nor could he call to mind a fox run to ground there. had it been mulfra, the galver, sancreed beacon, bartinney, or chapel cairn brea, he could have walked straight to every holt on their rocky slopes. after nearly an hour’s drive the pile of weird-looking rocks shows plainly against the sky; a few minutes later the face of the hill comes in view and at its base trevaskis’ house on the edge of a cultivated patch reclaimed many years ago from the moorland that stretches away to the northern cliffs. the sun catches shellal’s tiny attic window, the leats where his springes are set, the pool beyond the broad belt of yellow reeds, and lights the white-crested waves of the sea.
when near enough, andrew makes out the farmer in his shirt sleeves and then—can he believe his own eyes?—three, four, five miners against the turf-rick; trevaskis is holding a tubbal in one hand and—yes, a furze-chopper in the other; picks and shovels are piled in front of the miners; shellal is holding two buckets, no doubt containing water for the terriers; and, by all that’s good, it is a pair of badger-tongs that the squire has just brought out of the house, his fingers fidgeting with the guard. in short, a more completely equipped party for an assault on a badger’s fortress and, judging by the laughter, a more merry one, it would be difficult to imagine. but the high spirits of squire, farmer, and miner are not shared by the earthstopper. the elaborate preparations, no less than the hilarity, seemed to mock him. he foresaw that the day’s proceedings would bring life-long ridicule on himself. the whole countryside would get to hear of andrew leading the squire a fool’s chase after a white badger, forsooth! and wherever he went people would jeer at his powers of observation or treat him with silent pity, according to their dispositions. now after doing his duty to the best of his ability for seven-and-thirty years, and being “plagued to death” well-nigh every other week during the hunting season by badgers scratching out his stoppings and letting the foxes in—an annoyance that perhaps no other earthstopper in the whole of england has to put up with—for the faithful henchman on whom success depended to be dragged willy-nilly into this business was enough not only to rouse his ire but to shake his fealty to his master. if andrew was ever vexed in his life, he was vexed now, “vexed as fire.” near the squire he would not go, unless sent for, not he; to a peremptory summons he would turn a deaf ear. still, enraged though he was, he would not shirk his duty, hopeless as his task might be. he would search till nightfall, though a dozen giggling louts dogged his heels. he knew that the badger’s holt might possibly be on cairn kenidzhek, but it was about one chance in a hundred. he jumped down from the trap before it reached the gate where the squire was awaiting it, and seizing the opportunity whilst sir bevil was talking to the keeper, jumped the wall and going up to trevaskis, asked him if he knew of a badger’s earth on the hill.
“niver had no bisiness,” he replied in a very loud voice, “to climb un not even high by day. i laaves the furze-cuttin’ to shellaal. the nighest eearth beknown to me es in the croft under the goomp.” muttering maledictions on the “git chucklehead,” andrew shied off long before the harangue was finished and, without consulting shellal, who stood there open-mouthed and still gripping the two buckets, crossed the lane and began with his long strides the ascent of the crag-topped hill. it was the best thing he could have done. only by tremendous exertions could he hope to work off his rage, and how he did exert himself!
seldom had he put his hard sinews and strong muscles to such a strain as he did that morning, when searching the rugged slope in quest of the badger’s earth.
now, he was lost to sight in some tangled gulley where he tore through stunted blackthorn and brambles to reach its inmost recess; now, on hands and knees, he explored furze-screened places between small groups of boulders that dotted the higher slopes like outworks to the rocky citadel on their crest; now he scanned for beaten track the starved herbage that margined the cairn; now the crevices between the rocks for trodden lichen that might betray the badger’s way to his fastness. all to no purpose! there remained the other side of the hill to explore; and thither he went. some half-way down the slope there is a belt of ground so barren as to suggest a mineral lode just below the surface. along it the earthstopper proceeded at a rapid pace, his eyes scrutinising the edge of the sparse cover that skirted it. all at once he stopped in his stride as he lit on the run of some animal leading towards the cairn. some distance up it was joined, beneath a thorn bush, by a more clearly defined track, and a little way beyond the junction, where the single track passed between two boulders and was arched over with dead bracken and withered bents, so unmistakable was the “creep” that the earthstopper knew that he was on the trail of a badger. his craft was scarcely needed now, but he followed the trodden path jealously as if once lost it could with difficulty be recovered. farther up the slope it passed under a clump of furze that there ran up to the foot of the cairn. the bushes were thick and luxuriant, with here and there a yellow bloom, being protected from the westerly wind by the cairn, and spared by trevaskis since shellal had struck against working on that side of the rocks without further rise of wages. on all fours the earthstopper crept under them, wormed his way quickly forward over the dry spines, parting the furze above his head now and again to let the light in, and convince himself that he was following the track.
some distance in he came upon a heap of soil at the mouth of a badger’s earth. he restrains the delight he feels, for fear it may be abandoned. at once he examines the mouth of the set. the floor is well beaten and too hard to record footprints, no moss grows there, no spider’s web curtains the entrance.
lying flat on the ground with his head well inside the hole, he sniffs the air of the tunnel, but can detect no taint of any inmate. “hanrew, hanrew, wheere are ee?” it is the voice of shellal, whose weather-beaten and scared face shows round a big boulder, whence he can see the eastern face of the hill. the earthstopper hears him, but is too engrossed in his work to reply, and too far in the earth to make anyone hear him, except possibly the badger, if he is at home. “hanrew, hanrew,” shellal calls at the top of his voice; and getting no answer but the echo of the rocks, he hurries back, fully convinced that nothing more will ever be seen of the earthstopper. andrew then gets some matches out of his pocket and, striking one, holds it against the left wall of the earth. his face, which is all aglow, brightens as he inspects it. lighting another match he removes something from the smooth surface and backs out along the track he came by, no longer angry and desperate, but excited and exultant. sir bevil and the rest of the party now arrived at that side of the cairn are looking round and wondering what has become of andrew, when they hear a rustling in the furze and at length see his hobnailed boots project from the thick bushes.
the badger.
the stems of the furze have swept off his cap; so bareheaded, but triumphant, he goes straight to sir bevil, holding up between the forefinger and the thumb of his right hand the precious evidence. the men crowd round squire and earthstopper with amazement written on their faces as they behold the white bristle—for such it is—and ready for whatever exertion may be needed to secure the trophy. the squire, suppressing the excitement he feels, orders the bushes that screen the earth to be cleared away. when trevaskis and shellal have done this, andrew gets permission to send in one of the terriers to make sure that the badger is at home. on being released by the keeper from the chain that holds her, vixen runs to where andrew is lying at the mouth of the set, and, after being patted and encouraged, enters the hole and disappears from view. with his head in the tunnel and with one hand raised to silence the chatter of the farmer and coachman, who are standing a few yards away, the old man listens to the bitch as she makes her way along the galleries of the subterranean fastness. after some seconds, neither he nor sir bevil, who is lying at full length with his left ear to the ground—he was slightly deaf in the right—can detect any sound of her movements.
