Bob Strongs Holidays | Page 8

it had a
bad attack of asthma, giving a fierce pull every now and then to the
dragging carriages behind it; while, when the stalwart iron horse
occasionally loitered in his paces or slackened speed in going round a
sharp curve on the line, the coupling-chains would rattle as they lost
their tension and the buffers of the carriages behind, going faster for the
moment than the engine, would come together with a bang that vibrated
through the marrow-bones of all!
The scenery altered, too, every instant along the route; the wooded
heights around Guildford and Godalming and Haslemere, which the
poet Tennyson loved and where he lived and died, being succeeded by
a stretch of level landscape, and this again by the steep bare hills
encircling sleepy Petersfield.
Presently, a range of downs came in sight, curving away in horse-shoe
fashion from right to left, on which were a series of red-brick, detached
structures, placed along the topmost ridge at equal intervals apparently,
until they were lost in the distance.
As they approached these nearer, Miss Nellie's sharp eyes noticed that
on the landward side these brick piles were covered with a slant of
smoothly-shaven green turf that contrasted conspicuously with the

chalky surface of the sloping ridge.
"What funny things those are!" said she, pointing these out to Bob.
"Are they houses, or tombs, or what?"
"Where, what do you mean?" asked the Captain, turning round from his
contemplation of Dick, who, having finished the packet of sandwiches,
was now carefully searching the piece of newspaper in which they had
been wrapped up on the chance of there being a few stray crumbs left.
"Why, hullo, here we are close to our destination! Those `funny things,'
as you style them, missy, are the Portsdown forts--you are not far out
though, in your estimate of their appearance, for they're called
`Palmerston's Follies' by the political wags here."
"Are we near Portsmouth then?" said Nellie, peering out anxiously. "I
don't see anything!"
"Oh yes, missy, quite near," replied the Captain, also looking out of the
window. "There's Havant just in front. Don't you smell the sea?"
"Yes, Captain, yes, I do! Yes, I do!" cried Bob and Nellie together,
clapping their hands. "Isn't it nice! Isn't it jolly!"--Bob, it may be taken
for granted, using the latter term of approbation; Nellie adding on her
own private account another, "Ah, how nice!"
"Well, that's a matter of opinion," said Captain Dresser dryly, his
experiences of the fickle element not having, perhaps, always been
pleasant ones; but, before he could explain this, the train, with a
piercing shriek of warning from the steam-whistle of the engine, glided
into the station.
"Hav-'nt! Hav-'nt!" shouted the porters with lungs of brass and voices
of leather or gutta-percha. "Hav-'nt! Hav-'nt!"
"That's just what this boy will say when the guard asks him presently
for his ticket, or the money for his fare," said the Captain, with his
comical chuckle and merry twinkle of his bird-like eyes, pointing to
Dick as the ticket-collector banged open the door of the carriage as if

trying to wrench it off its hinges and held out his hand. "He haven't got
his ticket. Hav-n't, you see, my dears! Ha--ha--ha!"
CHAPTER THREE.
ROVER DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
The ticket-collector appeared puzzled for the moment, especially on
noticing a poor, ragged fellow like Dick travelling in a first-class
compartment "in company with gentlefolks," as he thought to himself;
but, at the instant this reflection passed through his mind, he recognised
the Captain as an old and regular passenger on the line, besides being
one from whom he had received many a `tip,' so he at once touched his
cap, responding with a grin of sympathy to the Captain's cheery laugh,
as if he thoroughly entered into the joke.
"Oh, haven't he, sir?" said he, the ungrammatical phrase dropping more
naturally from his rustic tongue; "then he'll have to get 'un sharp, or pay
the fare, sir."
"Never mind about that, my man, I'll pay for his ticket, for he's
travelling with me," replied the old sailor as he fumbled in his pockets,
shoving his hand first in one and then in the other; producing, at last, a
number of gold and silver coins, mixed up with coppers, a bunch of
keys, a clasp-knife, and his snuff-box, which somehow or other he had
put back in the wrong place. "How much is it?"
"Where from, sir?" inquired the man, reaching out his hand for Bob and
Nellie's tickets. "Far up the line, sir?"
"No, only from Guildford," replied the Captain. "That's only half-way
from London; but there's half-a-sovereign, and you may keep the
change for yourself."
"Thank you, sir," said the collector, touching his cap again and taking
the coin. He still lingered, however, as if wanting