The Famous Five Collection 6
Author: Enid Blyton
Date: 2021-03-04 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: kindle; fiction; children's fiction; mystery
Publisher: Hachette Children's Group
Rights: Copyright 1957 Hodder &#x0026; Stoughton Limited

1. FIVE ON A TREASURE ISLAND

2. FIVE GO ADVENTURING AGAIN

3. FIVE RUN AWAY TOGETHER

4. FIVE GO TO SMUGGLER’S TOP

5. FIVE GO OFF IN A CARAVAN

6. FIVE ON KIRRIN ISLAND AGAIN

7. FIVE GO OFF TO CAMP

8. FIVE GET INTO TROUBLE

9. FIVE FALL INTO ADVENTURE

10. FIVE ON A HIKE TOGETHER

11. FIVE HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME

12. FIVE GO DOWN TO THE SEA

13. FIVE GO TO MYSTERY MOOR

14. FIVE HAVE PLENTY OF FUN

15. FIVE ON A SECRET TRAIL

16. FIVE GO TO BILLYCOCK HILL

17. FIVE GET INTO A FIX

18. FIVE ON FINNISTON FARM

19. FIVE GO TO DEMON’S ROCKS

20. FIVE HAVE A MYSTERY TO SOLVE

21. FIVE ARE TOGETHER AGAIN

FAMOUS FIVE ADVENTURES (COLOUR SHORT STORIES)

1. FIVE AND A HALF-TERM ADVENTURE

2. GEORGE’S HAIR IS TOO LONG

3. GOOD OLD TIMMY

4. A LAZY AFTERNOON

5. WELL DONE, FAMOUS FIVE

6. FIVE HAVE A PUZZLING TIME

7. HAPPY CHRISTMAS, FIVE

8. WHEN TIMMY CHASED THE CAT

9. THE BIRTHDAY ADVENTURE

10. FIVE TO THE RESCUE!

hachettechildrens.co.uk

Five Go to Billycock Hill

CONTENTS

1 A WEEK’S HOLIDAY

2 OFF TO BILLYCOCK HILL

3 BILLYCOCK FARM

4 A FINE CAMPING PLACE

5 THE FIRST NIGHT – AND A MORNING VISITOR

6 THE BUTTERFLY FARM

7 MRS JANES – A SPIDER – AND A POOL

8 A SPOT OF TROUBLE

9 COUSIN JEFF

10 BUTTERFLY FARM AGAIN

11 A STORMY NIGHT

12 WHAT HAPPENED IN BILLYCOCK CAVES

13 A DREADFUL SHOCK

14 MR GRINGLE IS ANNOYED

15 MORE NEWS – AND A NIGHT TRIP

16 LOOKING THROUGH WINDOWS

17 QUITE A LOT HAPPENS

18 NOBODY KNOWS WHERE TO LOOK

19 A MORNING OF WORK

20 A PECULIAR MESSAGE

21 AN EXCITING FINISH

CHAPTER ONE

A week’s holiday

‘WHERE’S THE map?’ said Julian. ‘Is that it, George? Good! Now – where shall we spread it?’

‘On the floor,’ said Anne. ‘A map is always easiest to read on the floor. I’ll push the table out of the way.’

‘Well, be careful, for goodness’ sake,’ said George. ‘Father’s in his study, and you know what happened before when someone pushed the table right over!’

Everyone laughed. George’s father so often came pouncing out of his study if any sudden noise was made when he was working.

The table was pushed out of the way and the big map unfolded and spread out over the floor. Timmy was surprised to see the four children kneeling down around it, and barked, imagining this was some kind of new game.

‘Be quiet, Timmy!’ said Dick. ‘You’ve got into trouble once this morning already for making a row. And stop brushing my face with your tail.’

‘Wuff,’ said Timmy and lay down heavily on the map.

‘Get up, idiot,’ said Dick. ‘Don’t you know we’re in a hurry? We want to trace our route to Billycock Hill . . .’

‘Billycock Hill – what a lovely name!’ said Anne. ‘Is that where we’re going?’

‘Yes,’ said Julian, poring over the map. ‘It’s near some caves we want to see – and there’s a butterfly farm not far off, and . . .’

‘A butterfly farm!’ said George, surprised. ‘Whatever’s that?’

‘Just what it sounds like!’ said Dick. ‘A farm for butterflies! Toby, a friend of ours at school, told me about it. He lives quite near it and he says it’s a most interesting place – they breed butterflies – and moths, too – from eggs, and sell them to collectors.’

‘Do they really?’ said Anne. ‘Well, I must say I used to enjoy keeping caterpillars and seeing what they turned into – it was like magic to see a lovely butterfly or moth creep out of the chrysalis. But a farm for them – can we really go and see it?’

‘Oh yes – Toby says the men who run it are very happy to show anyone round,’ said Julian. ‘Apparently Billycock Hill is a good place for rare butterflies too – that’s why they’ve got their farm there. They rush about with nets half the time – and at night they go moth-hunting.’

‘It sounds exciting,’ said Dick. ‘Well, what with caves to see, and a butterfly farm, and Toby to visit, and . . .’

‘And just Five together again on a sunny week’s holiday!’ said George, giving Timmy a sudden thump of joy. ‘Hurrah for Whitsun – and thank goodness our two schools had a week’s holiday at the same time!’

The four cousins sprawled on the floor, looking with great interest at the map, following out a route with their fingers. As they traced out the way, there came an angry noise from the study, where George’s father was at work.

‘Who’s been tidying my desk? Where are those papers I left here? Fanny, Fanny – come here!’

‘He wants Mother – I’ll get her,’ said George. ‘No, I can’t – she’s gone shopping.’

‘Why can’t people leave my papers alone?’ came her father’s voice again. ‘Fanny! FANNY!’

Then the study door was flung open and Mr Kirrin came striding out, muttering to himself. He didn’t see the four children on the floor and fell right over them. Timmy barked in delight and leapt at him, thinking that for once George’s father was actually having a game with them!

‘Oooh!’ said George, as her father’s hand came over her face. ‘Don’t! What are you doing, Father?’

‘Uncle Quentin – sorry you fell over us!’ said Julian. ‘Shut up, Timmy – this isn’t a game!’

He helped his uncle up and waited for the explosion. His uncle brushed himself down and glared at Julian. ‘Have you got to lie on the floor? Get down, will you, Timmy! Where’s your mother, George? Get up, for goodness’ sake! Where’s Joanna? If she’s been tidying my desk again I’ll give her her notice!’

Joanna the cook appeared at the doorway, wiping her floury hands on her apron. ‘Whatever’s all this noise about?’ she began. ‘Oh sorry – I didn’t know it was you. I . . .’

‘Joanna – have you been tidying my desk again?’ barked George’s father.

‘No. Have you lost something? Never you mind, I’ll come along and find it,’ said Joanna, who was used to Mr Kirrin’s ways. ‘Pick up that map, you four – and put the table back. Stop barking, Timmy. George, take him out for goodness’ sake, or your father will go mad.’

‘He’s only excited because we’re all together again,’ said George, and took Timmy into the garden. The others followed, Julian folding up the map, grinning.

‘We ought to put Uncle Quentin into a play,’ said Dick. ‘He’d bring the house down! Well – do we know the way, Julian? And when do we start?’

‘Here’s Mother,’ said George as someone came to the front gate with a basket.

Julian ran to open it. He was very fond of his kindly, pleasant-faced aunt. She smiled round at them all.

‘Well – have you decided where to go – and what to take with you? You’ll be able to camp out this beautiful weather – what a lovely Whitsun it’s going to be!’

‘Yes,’ said Julian, taking his aunt’s basket from her and carrying it indoors. ‘We’re going to Billycock Hill, and as our friend Toby lives at the bottom of it, at Billycock Farm, he’s going to lend us all the camping gear we need.’

‘So we shan’t need to load our bikes with tents and mattresses and things,’ said Dick.

‘Oh – good!’ said his aunt. ‘What about food? You can get it at Toby’s farm, I suppose?’

‘You bet! We shan’t eat there, of course,’ said Julian. ‘But we shall buy any eggs or milk or bread we need – and Toby says the strawberries are already ripening!’

Aunt Fanny smiled. ‘Well, I needn’t worry about your meals, then. And you’ll have Timmy with you, too. He’ll look after you all, won’t you, Timmy? You won’t let them get into any trouble, will you?’

‘Woof,’ said Timmy, in his deepest voice, and wagged his tail. ‘Woof.’

‘Good old Tim,’ said George, patting him. ‘If it wasn’t for you we’d never be allowed to go off so much on our own, I bet!’

‘Uncle Quentin’s a bit on the warpath, Aunt Fanny,’ said Dick. ‘He wants to know who’s been tidying his desk. He came rushing out of the study, didn’t see us lying on the floor round our map – and fell right over us.’

‘Oh dear – I’d better go and find out what papers he’s lost now,’ said his aunt. ‘I expect he forgot that he had a tidying fit last night, and tidied his desk himself. He’s probably put a lot of his most precious papers into the waste-paper basket!’

Everyone laughed as Mrs Kirrin hurried into the study.

‘Well, let’s get ready,’ said Julian. ‘We won’t need to take much, as old Toby’s going to help us. Anoraks, of course – and don’t forget yours, Timmy! And sweaters. And one or two maps.’

‘And torches,’ said Anne, ‘because we want to explore those caves. Oh, and let’s take our swimsuits in case we find somewhere to bathe. It’s warm enough!’

‘And candles and matches,’ said George, slapping the pocket of her jeans. ‘I’ve got those. I got Joanna to give me three boxes. And let’s take some sweets.’

‘Yes. That tin of humbugs,’ said Julian. ‘And I vote we take our little portable radio!’

‘Oh yes – that’s a good idea,’ said Anne, pleased. ‘We can hear our favourite programmes then – and the news. I don’t suppose we shall be able to buy newspapers.’

‘I’ll get out the bikes from the shed,’ said Julian.

‘Dick, get the sandwiches from Joanna – she said she’d make us some because we shan’t get to Toby’s farm till after our dinner-time – and I bet we’ll be hungry!’

‘Wuff,’ said Timmy, who knew that word very well.

‘He says remember biscuits for him,’ said Anne with a laugh. ‘I’ll go and get some now, Tim – though I expect you can share meals with the dogs at Billycock Farm.’

Joanna had two large packets of sandwiches and cake ready for them, and two bottles of orangeade. ‘There you are,’ she said, handing them over. ‘And if you get through all those you’ll no longer feel hungry. And here are Timmy’s biscuits – and a bone.’

‘You’re a star, Joanna,’ said Dick, and put his arm round her to give her one of the sudden hugs she liked. ‘Well, you’ll soon be rid of us – a whole week at Whitsun – isn’t that luck – and with such glorious weather, too.’

‘Buck up!’ called Julian. ‘I’ve got the bikes – and no one’s had a puncture, for a change. Bring my anorak, Dick.’

In three minutes everything was packed into the bicycle carriers. Timmy made sure that his biscuits and bone were packed by sniffing at each pack until he came to the smell he was hoping for. Then he wagged his tail and bounded round excitedly. The Five were together again – and who knew what might happen? Timmy was ready for anything!

‘Goodbye, dears,’ said Mrs Kirrin, standing at the gate to see them go. ‘Julian, take care of the girls – and Tim, take care of everyone!’

Uncle Quentin suddenly appeared at the window. ‘What’s all the noise about?’ he began impatiently. ‘Oh – they’re off at last, are they? Now we’ll have a little peace and quiet! Goodbye – and behave yourselves!’

‘Grown-ups always say that,’ said Anne as the Five set off happily, ringing their bells in farewell. ‘Hurrah – we’re off on our own again – yes, you too, Timmy. What fun!’

CHAPTER TWO

Off to Billycock Hill

THE SUN shone down hotly as the Five sped down the sandy road that ran alongside Kirrin Bay. Timmy loped easily beside them, his tongue hanging out quite a long way. Anne always said that he had the longest tongue of any dog she had ever known!

The sea was as blue as forget-me-nots as they cycled along beside it. Across the bay they could see little Kirrin Island, with Kirrin Castle towering up.

‘Doesn’t it look fine?’ said Dick. ‘I half wish we were going to spend Whitsun at Kirrin Cottage, and were going bathing, and rowing across to George’s little island over there.’

‘We can do that in the summer hols,’ said Julian. ‘It’s fun to explore other parts of the country when we can. Toby says the caves in Billycock Hill are marvellous.’

‘What’s Toby like?’ asked George. ‘We’ve never seen him, Anne and I.’

‘He’s a bit of a joker,’ said Dick. ‘Likes to put caterpillars down people’s necks and so on – and beware if he has a magnificent rose in his buttonhole and asks you to smell it.’

‘Why?’ asked Anne, surprised.

‘Because when you bend down to smell it you’ll get a squirt of water in your face,’ said Dick. ‘It’s a trick rose.’

‘I don’t think I’m going to like him much,’ said George, who didn’t take kindly to tricks of this sort. ‘I’ll probably bash him on the head if he does things like that to me.’

‘That won’t be any good,’ said Dick cheerfully. ‘He won’t bash you back – he’ll just think up some worse trick. Don’t scowl, George – we’re on holiday! Toby’s all right – a bit of an ass, that’s all.’

They had now left Kirrin Bay behind and were cycling down a country lane, set with hawthorn hedges each side. The may was over now, and the first wild roses were showing pink here and there. A little breeze got up, and was very welcome indeed.

‘We’ll have an ice when we come to a village,’ said Julian after they had cycled about six miles.

‘Two ices,’ said Anne. ‘Oh dear – this hill – what a steep one we’ve come to. I don’t know whether it’s worse to ride up slowly and painfully, or to get off and push my bike to the top.’

Timmy tore up to the top in front of them and then sat down to wait in the cool breeze there, his tongue hanging out longer than ever. Julian came to the top first and looked down the other side.

‘There’s a village there,’ he said. ‘Right at the bottom. Let’s see – yes, it’s Tennick village – we’ll stop and ask if it sells ices.’

It did, of course, strawberry and vanilla. The four children sat on a seat under a tree outside the small village shop, and dug little wooden spoons into ice-tubs. Timmy sat nearby, watching hopefully. He knew that at least he would be able to lick out the empty tubs.

‘Oh, Tim – I didn’t mean to buy you one, because you really are a bit fat,’ said George, looking at the beseeching brown eyes fixed on her ice-cream. ‘But as you’ll probably get very thin running so far while we’re cycling, I’ll buy you a whole one for yourself.’

‘Wuff,’ said Timmy, bounding into the little shop at once and putting his great paws up on the counter, much to the surprise of the woman behind it.

‘It’s a waste, really, giving Timmy an ice,’ said Anne when George and the dog came out. ‘He just loosens it with his tongue and gulps it down. I sometimes wonder he doesn’t chew up the cardboard tub, too!’

After ten minutes’ rest they all set off again, feeling nice and cool inside. It really was lovely cycling through the June countryside – the trees were so fresh and green still, and the fields they passed were golden with buttercups – thousands and thousands of them, nodding their polished heads in the wind.

There was very little traffic on these deserted country roads – an occasional farm-cart, and sometimes a car, but little else. The Five kept to the lanes as much as they could, for they all preferred their quaint winding curves set with hedges of all kinds to the wide, dusty main roads, straight and uninteresting.

‘We ought to get to Billycock Farm about four o’clock,’ said Dick. ‘Or maybe sooner. What time do we have our lunch, Julian? And where?’

‘We’ll find a good place about one o’clock,’ said Julian. ‘And not a minute before. So it’s no good anyone saying they are hungry yet. It’s only twelve.’

‘I’m more thirsty than hungry,’ said Anne. ‘And I’m sure old Timmy must be dying of thirst! Let’s stop at the next stream so that he can have a drink.’

‘There’s one,’ said Dick, pointing to where a stream wound across a nearby field. ‘Hey, Tim – go and have a drink, old fellow!’

Timmy shot through the hedge to the stream and began to lap. The others dismounted and stood waiting. Anne picked a spray of honeysuckle and put it through a buttonhole of her blouse. ‘Now I can sniff it all the time,’ she said. ‘Delicious!’

‘Hey, Tim – leave some water for the fishes!’ shouted Dick. ‘George, stop him drinking any more. He’s swelling up like a balloon.’

‘He’s not,’ said George. ‘Timmy! That’s enough! Here, boy, here!’

Timmy took one last lap and then raced over to George. He pranced round her, barking joyfully.

‘There – he feels much better now,’ said George, and away they all went again, groaning as they cycled slowly up the many hills in that part of the country, and shouting with delight as they sped furiously down the other side.

Julian had decided where to have their midday meal – on the top of a high hill! Then they could see all the country for miles around, and there would also be a nice cooling breeze.

‘Cheer up,’ he said as they came to the steepest hill they had so far encountered. ‘We’ll have our lunch at the top of this hill – and a good long rest!’

‘Thank goodness,’ panted Anne. ‘We’ll be as stiff as anything tomorrow!’

It really was lovely at the top of the hill! It was so high that they could see the countryside spreading for miles and miles around them.

‘You can see five counties from here,’ said Julian. ‘But don’t ask me which – I’ve forgotten! Let’s lie in this heather and have a bit of a rest before we have our lunch.’

It was soft and comfortable lying in the springy heather, but Timmy did not approve of a rest before lunch. He wanted his bone! He went to where George had put her bicycle down, and sniffed in her carrier. Yes – his bone was most certainly there! He glanced round to make sure that everyone was resting, and nobody watching him. Then he began to nuzzle a paper parcel.

Anne was lying nearest to him, and she heard the crackling of the paper and sat up. ‘Timmy!’ she said, shocked. ‘Oh, Timmy – fancy helping yourself to our sandwiches!’

George sat up at once, and Timmy put his tail down, still wagging it a little as if to say, ‘Sorry – but after all, it is my bone!’

‘Oh – he just wants his bone,’ said George. ‘He’s not after our sandwiches. As if he would take them, Anne! You might have known he wouldn’t!’

‘I feel rather like having mine now,’ said Anne. ‘Julian, can’t we have some? – and I do really want a drink.’

The idea of a drink made everyone long to begin lunch and soon they were unwrapping ham and tomato sandwiches, and enormous slices of Joanna’s fruit cake. Julian found the little cardboard drinking cups, and poured out the orangeade carefully.

‘This is fine,’ said Dick, munching his sandwiches and gazing out over the rolling countryside, with its moorlands, its stretches of farmland with the fields of green corn, and its sloping hills. ‘Look – see that hill far away in the distance, Julian – over there – would that be Billycock Hill, do you think? It’s rather a funny shape.’

‘I’ll look through my field-glasses,’ said Julian, and took them from their leather case. He put them to his eyes and stared hard at the faraway hill that lay to the north of them.

‘Yes – I think it probably is Billycock Hill,’ he said. ‘It’s got such an odd-shaped top; it looks a bit like an old Billycock hat.’

He handed the glasses round, and everyone looked at the far-off hill. George put the glasses to Timmy’s eyes. ‘There you are!’ she said. ‘Have a squint, Timmy! Julian, it doesn’t look so very far away.’

‘It’s not, as the crow flies,’ said Julian, taking back his glasses and surveying the countryside around them again. ‘But it’s a long, long way through those hundreds of little winding lanes. Any more sandwiches, anyone?’

‘There aren’t any more left,’ said Dick. ‘Or fruit cake either. Have a humbug if you’re still hungry.’

The humbugs were passed round and Timmy waited hopefully for his turn. George gave him one. ‘Not that it’s much use to you,’ she said. ‘You just swallow it without even one suck!’

‘We’ll rest for half an hour more,’ said Julian. ‘Gosh, I do feel sleepy!’

They all snuggled down into the soft clumps of heather, and soon they were asleep in the warm sun. Even Timmy snoozed, with one ear half up just in case someone came by. But nobody did. In fact it was so very quiet on the top of the hill that three-quarters of an hour went by before anyone awoke. Anne felt something crawling up her arm and woke with a jump.

‘Ugh – a big beetle!’ she said, and shook it off. She glanced at her watch. ‘Dick! Ju! Wake up! We must get on, or we’ll never be there by tea-time!’

Soon they were once more on their way, tearing down the hill at top speed, shouting as they went, with Timmy barking madly beside them. Really, the start of a holiday was the happiest thing in the world!

CHAPTER THREE

Billycock Farm

THE FIVE certainly cycled fast that afternoon, and would have arrived at Billycock Hill even sooner than they did if it hadn’t been for Timmy. He panted so much in the heat that they stopped for brief rests every fifteen minutes.

‘It’s a pity he’s so big and heavy,’ said Anne. ‘If he had been a small dog we could have taken turns at carrying him on our bikes.’

Billycock Hill was soon very near. It certainly was a strange shape, very like an old-fashioned hat. It was partly heather-clad and partly sloping meadow land. Cows grazed in the meadows, and farther up the hill, where there was shorter, wiry grass, the farmer had put a good many sheep.

Nestling down at the foot of the hill was a rambling old farm-building, with out-houses and stables and a big greenhouse. ‘That must be Billycock Farm,’ said Julian. ‘Well, we’ve made very good time, you know – it’s only half past three. Let’s wash our faces in that stream over there – we all look rather hot and dirty. Timmy, you can have a bathe if you want to!’

The water was cool and silky to the touch, and the children splashed it over their faces and necks, wishing they could do as Timmy was doing – lying down in the stream and letting the water flow over him!

‘That’s better,’ said Dick, mopping his face with an enormous handkerchief. ‘Now let’s go and present ourselves at Billycock Farm. I hope Toby’s remembered that we’re coming – he promised to lend us all we wanted for camping out.’

They combed their hair, brushed down their clothes with their hands, and then, feeling more respectable, made their way across a field path to a farm gate. The field was bumpy, so they rode slowly.

Soon they were in a big farmyard, with hens pecking around them, and ducks swimming on a round duck-pond. Farm dogs began barking from somewhere – and then something ran round the corner of the old house – something very small and pink.

‘Whatever is it?’ said Anne. ‘Oh – it’s a pigling! What a pet! Oh, it’s come right up to us – little pigling, have you escaped from your sty? How clean you are!’

The tiny pig gave funny little squeals, and ran up to Timmy, who sat back on his haunches in surprise, staring at this unexpected little creature. He thought it must be some sort of dog without any hair.

The pigling butted Timmy gently and Timmy retreated backwards. Julian laughed. ‘Tim can’t make it out!’ he said. ‘No don’t growl, Timmy – it’s quite harmless!’

‘Hallo – who’s this?’ said Dick as a small figure came round the house. It stopped when it saw the Five.

‘What a dear little boy!’ said Anne. ‘Is he Toby’s brother?’

The child didn’t look more than five years old. He had a head of bright yellow curls, big brown eyes, and a grin just like his big brother’s.

‘That’s my pig,’ he said, coming slowly towards them. ‘He runned away from me.’

Anne laughed. ‘What’s your pig’s name?’ she said.

‘Curly,’ said the small boy, and pointed at the pigling’s tail. ‘He’s got a curly tail. It won’t go straight.’

‘It’s a nice tail,’ said Anne. The pigling ran to the small boy, and he grabbed it by its tail. ‘You runned away again,’ he said. Then he picked up the pig and walked off.

‘Hey! Is this Billycock Farm?’ called Julian. ‘Have you got a brother called Toby?’

‘Toby? Yes, Toby’s over there,’ said the boy, and he pointed to a big barn. ‘Toby’s ratting with Binky.’

‘Right,’ said Julian. The little boy disappeared with his funny pet, and Julian laughed. ‘He’s rather a pet himself,’ he said. ‘Come on – let’s go and find Toby and Binky. Perhaps Binky is another brother.’

‘Or a dog,’ said George, and put her hand on Timmy’s collar. ‘Better be careful. He might go for Tim.’

‘Yes – Binky might be a dog, of course – probably a good ratter,’ said Julian. ‘Dick and I will go to the barn and you two girls stay here with Timmy.’

They went off to the barn. A great noise came from inside as the two boys approached. Shouts and barks and the rap of a stick came to their ears.

‘Get him, Binky – look, he went under that sack! Oh, you fathead, you’ve lost him again!’

Wuff-wuff-wuff ! Rap-rap! More yells! In great curiosity Julian and Dick peered into the rather dark old barn. They saw Toby there, prodding under sacks, with a most excited collie beside him, barking incessantly.

‘Hey, Toby!’ yelled Julian, and Toby stood up and turned a red and perspiring face towards the two boys.

‘Oh – you’ve arrived!’ he said, going quickly to the door. ‘I thought you were never coming. Glad to see you! But are there only two of you? I got out tents and things for four.’

‘There are four of us – five counting Timmy,’ said Julian. ‘We’ve left the two girls over there with him – he’s our dog. Will yours be friendly or not?’

‘Oh, yes, so long as I introduce them,’ said Toby and they all went out of the barn. As soon as Binky, Toby’s dog, saw Timmy, he stood still, made himself stiff, and growled, while the hackles on his neck slowly rose up.

‘It’s all right,’ shouted Toby to the girls. ‘Bring your dog here. He’ll be all right with Binky in half a minute.’

Rather doubtfully George brought Timmy across. Timmy was a bit doubtful himself of this big collie! Toby bent down and spoke into Binky’s ear.

‘Binky, shake paws with this nice girl – she’s a friend.’

He nodded at George. ‘Hold out your hand,’ he said.

George bent down to the collie and held out her hand. At once the dog put up his paw and allowed her to shake it solemnly.

‘Now you,’ said Toby to Anne, and she did the same. She liked this dog Binky, with his bright brown eyes and long, sleek nose.

‘Does your dog shake hands, too?’ asked Toby. George nodded. ‘He does? Right – tell him to shake paws with Binky. Binky, shake!’

‘Timmy, shake,’ commanded George, and very politely and solemnly the two dogs shook paws, eyeing each other cautiously. Timmy gave a sudden little whine – and then the two were tearing round the yard together, barking furiously, chasing one another, rolling over, and having a wonderful game.

‘That’s all right, then,’ said Toby, pleased. ‘Binky’s quite all right with anyone, human or animal, so long as he can shake hands with them. I’ve taught him that. But he’s a dud ratter! He just can’t seem to nip a rat. Well – let’s go and see my mother. She’s expecting you. She’s got a whopping great tea.’

This was all very satisfactory! Just the kind of welcome the Five liked. Anne looked sideways at Toby. She thought he was rather nice. George wasn’t so sure. He had a rose in his buttonhole – was it a trick one, and was he going to ask her to smell it?

‘We saw a little yellow-haired boy just now,’ said Anne. ‘With a tiny pigling.’

‘Oh, that’s Benny with his pet pig,’ said Toby, laughing. ‘He calls it Curly – and he adores it! We’ve offered him a kitten or a puppy – but no, he wants that pigling. They go everywhere together – like Mary and her lamb! Benny’s a pet – he really is. Kid brothers are usually a nuisance, you know, but Benny isn’t.’

‘Kid sisters are a bit of a nuisance sometimes too,’ said Dick, glancing slyly at Anne, who at once gave him a determined punch. ‘Still – Anne’s not too bad, is she, Ju?’

Toby’s mother, Mrs Thomas, was a plump and jolly woman, with a smile as wide as Toby’s and Benny’s. She made them all very welcome.

‘Come along in,’ she said. ‘Toby’s pleased you’re going to camp hereabouts – he’s got all the tents and rugs you’ll need – and you can come every day and get eggs and milk and bread and butter and anything else you need from here. Don’t be afraid to ask!’

There was suddenly the scamper of little hooves and Curly the pigling came running indoors.

‘There, now!’ said Toby’s mother. ‘There’s that pigling again. Benny, Benny – you are NOT to let Curly come indoors. Cats I don’t mind, nor dogs – but pigs I won’t have. Benny!’

Benny appeared, looking most apologetic. ‘Sorry, Mum – but he’s lively today. Oooh, I say – what a tea! Can we have some yet?’

‘I’ll just make the tea – unless you’d rather have some of our creamy milk?’ said Toby’s mother.

‘Oh, milk, please, Mrs Thomas,’ said Anne, and they all said the same. Nothing could be nicer than icy-cold, creamy farm milk from the dairy on a hot day like this.

They all sat down to tea, and the four visitors wished they had not had such a big lunch! A large ham sat on the table, and there were crusty loaves of new bread. Crisp lettuces, dewy and cool, and red radishes were side by side in a big glass dish. On the sideboard was an enormous cake, and beside it a dish of scones. Great slabs of butter and jugs of creamy milk were there, too, with honey and home-made jam.

‘I wish I was hungry, really hungry,’ said Dick. ‘This is just the kind of meal for a hungry day.’

‘I didn’t think you’d have had much lunch,’ said Mrs Thomas. ‘Now then, Toby – you’re the host. See to your guests, please – and, Benny, take the pigling off your knee. I will not have him at the table.’

‘Curly will be very upset if he sees that ham,’ said Toby slyly. ‘That’s his grandfather!’

Benny put Curly down hurriedly, afraid that his feelings might be hurt. The pigling went to sit beside Timmy, who, very much surprised, but rather pleased, at once made room for him.

It was a very happy meal, and Toby was a good host. Anne sat beside little Benny, and found herself liking him more than ever. ‘He’s like a little boy out of a story,’ she said to George. ‘He and Curly ought to be put into a book!’

‘Well now,’ said Mrs Thomas after everyone had eaten their fill, ‘what are your plans? Toby, show them where you have put their tents and everything. Then they can decide where they are going to camp.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Toby, and Benny and Curly and Binky all came along, too. ‘You can help to carry everything – and we’ll go up on Billycock Hill and find a fine camping place. How I wish I could camp out with you too!’

Away they all went, feeling rather full but very happy. Where should they camp? How lovely to sleep out at nights, and see the stars through the opening in the tent!

CHAPTER FOUR

A fine camping place

TOBY HAD put all the camping-out gear in a nearby barn. He took the Five there, with Benny and the pigling trailing after. Binky came, too, so friendly now with Timmy that they trotted along side by side, occasionally pushing against each other like schoolboys!

Julian and Dick looked at the pile of canvas, the pegs and the ropes. Yes, these two tents would do very well, though if the weather stayed like this they would hardly need tents! They could lay their rugs out on the springy heather.

‘This is fine, Toby,’ said Julian gratefully. ‘You’ve even provided a kettle and a frying-pan.’

‘Well, you might want to cook a meal,’ said Toby. ‘Or boil soup. There’s a saucepan for that – ah, here it is!’

He picked it up and promptly put it on Benny’s head, where it stuck tightly on his yellow curls. Benny yelled and ran at Toby, hitting at him with his fists. The little pig rushed away in fright and disappeared round a corner.

Anne took the saucepan off poor Benny’s head. ‘You’re all right!’ she said. ‘It was a funny hat to wear, wasn’t it?’

‘Curly runned away again!’ wept Benny, and he pummelled the laughing Toby. ‘I hate you, I hate you!’

‘You go and find him,’ said Toby, fending off the angry small boy, and Benny ran off on his fat little legs.

‘Well, we’ve got rid of him for a few minutes,’ said Toby. ‘Now – is there anything I’ve forgotten? You’ve got torches, I suppose? What about candles – and matches?’

‘We’ve got those, too,’ said Dick. ‘And we’ve brought sweaters and swimsuits – but that’s about all. I see you’ve put a couple of rugs here as well in case we’re cold!’

‘Well, it might turn wet and chilly,’ said Toby. ‘Of course, if it snows, or anything like that, you’ll have to come and borrow some more rugs! Now, shall I help you to fix them on your bikes?’

It was too difficult to fix anything on to the four bikes, and in the end Toby found a hand-cart and the children piled everything into that.

‘We’ll fetch our bikes some other time,’ said Julian.

‘Leave them here!’ said Toby. ‘They’ll be all right. Are you going now? Well, I’ll get a package Mother’s got ready for you – you know, ham and new-laid eggs and bread and butter and the rest.’

‘It’s most awfully good of her,’ said Julian gratefully. ‘Well, let’s start – we’ve got everything in the hand-cart now. We’ll just wait for the food. Dick, you and I can push this hand-cart together. It will need two of us up the hill – and I vote we camp on the side of the slope somewhere, so that we can get a good view.’

Toby came back with an enormous package of food. Benny came with him, Curly trotting behind. Benny carried a basket of ripe strawberries.

‘I picked them for you,’ he said, and handed them to Anne.

‘What beauties!’ she said, and gave the smiling child a hug. ‘We shall enjoy them, Benny.’

‘Can I come and see your camp when you’ve built it?’ he asked. ‘Can I bring Curly? He’s never seen a camp.’

‘Yes, of course you can,’ said Anne. ‘Are we ready now, Julian? What about milk? Mrs Thomas said we could take some.’

‘Oh yes – I forgot that,’ said Toby. ‘It’s in the dairy.’ He sped off with Binky, and the others arranged everything neatly in the useful little hand-cart. Toby came back with the milk – two big bottles. They were stacked carefully in a corner of the cart.

‘Well, we’re ready now, I think,’ said Julian, and he and Dick began to push the cart down the path to the gate. Timmy and Binky trotted on ahead, and everyone else followed. Benny came as far as the gate with Curly, then Toby sent him back.

‘You know what Mother said, Benny,’ he said. ‘You’re not to come with us now – it’ll be too late when Binky and I come back.’

Benny’s mouth went down, but he didn’t attempt to follow them. He picked Curly up in his arms in case the pigling should run away after the others.

‘Benny’s a pet,’ said Anne. ‘I wish I had a little brother like that.’

‘He’s all right,’ said Toby. ‘A bit of a cry-baby, though. I’m trying to bring him up properly – teasing him out of his babyishness, and making him stand on his own feet.’

‘He seems to be able to do that all right,’ said Dick. ‘My word – the way he went for you when you put that saucepan on his head! He pummelled you right and left!’

‘Benny’s a funny little kid,’ said Toby, giving a hand with the cart as they reached the slope of the hill. ‘He’s always having funny pets. Two years ago he had a lamb that followed him everywhere. Last year he had two goslings that followed him about – and when they grew into geese they still followed him! They waddled all the way upstairs one day!’

‘And this year he’s got a pig!’ said George, who, like Anne, was very much amused with Benny. ‘Don’t you think Timmy was very funny with Curly? I’m sure he still thinks it’s a puppy without any hair!’

They made their way up the hill, following a narrow sheep-path. The hand-cart bumped and wobbled, and soon it needed four or five pairs of hands to push it.

‘How much farther?’ panted Toby at last. ‘Surely you’re not going right to the top?’

‘No,’ said Julian. ‘About halfway up. We do want to have a good view, Toby. Not very much farther up, I should think. But let’s have a bit of rest, shall we?’

They sat down, glad to get their breath. Certainly the view was magnificent. Far away on the horizon were purplish hills, and in front of them stretched miles and miles of green and golden countryside. Green for growing corn and grass – gold for the buttercups, which were at their best in this sunny week of June.

‘I like those silvery threads here and there winding about the green fields,’ said Anne. ‘Little streams – or rivers – curving like snakes all about! And I like the dark green patches that are woods.’

‘What’s that just down there?’ asked George, pointing to what looked like an enormous field with great sheds in the centre.

‘That’s an airfield,’ said Toby promptly. ‘A bit hush-hush. Secret planes tried out, and all that. I know all about it because a cousin of mine is there – he’s a flight-lieutenant. He comes to see us sometimes and tells me things. It’s an experimental place.’

‘What’s that, exactly?’ asked Anne.

‘Well – where new ideas are tried out,’ said Toby. ‘They deal mostly with very small planes down there – one-man fighter planes, I think. Don’t be scared if you hear noises from the airfield sometimes – bangs and bursts. I don’t know what they are, of course – it’s all to do with their experiments.’

‘I wish I could visit the airfield,’ said Dick. ‘I’m keen on planes. I’m going to fly one when I’m older.’

‘You’d better meet my cousin, then,’ said Toby. ‘He might take you up in one.’

‘I should like to meet him,’ said Dick, delighted. ‘So would Julian.’

‘We’d better get on now,’ said Julian, standing up. ‘We won’t go much higher – the view can’t be much better anywhere else!’

George and Anne went on ahead to find a good camping place, while the three boys pushed the cart slowly over the heather. But it was Timmy who found the right place! He ran on ahead, feeling thirsty, so when he heard the sound of running water he ran to it at once.

From under a jutting rock gushed a little spring. It rippled down a rocky shelf and lost itself in a mass of lush greenery below. Rushes grew to mark the way it went, and George’s sharp eyes could follow its path for quite a long way down the hill, outlined by the dark line of rushes.

‘Julian! Look what Timmy’s found!’ she called as she watched him lap from the clear spring water. ‘A little spring gushing out of the hillside! Hadn’t we better camp near it?’

‘Good idea!’ shouted back Julian, and left the hand-cart to come and see. ‘Yes, this is just the place! A fine view – plenty of springy heather to camp on – and water laid on quite near!’

Everyone agreed that it was a fine place, and soon all the gear was taken from the hand-cart. The tents were not erected, for everyone meant to sleep under the stars that night, the evening was so warm. Nobody wanted to lie in a stuffy tent!

Anne unpacked the food parcel, wondering where would be the coolest place for a ‘larder’. She went over to the rock from which gushed the crystal-clear spring water. She pushed away the rushes around and discovered a kind of small cave hollowed out of the rock below the spring.

‘It would be as cool as anything in there,’ thought Anne, and put her hand through the falling water into the cavelike hole. ‘Yes, it was icy cold! Was it big enough to hold the milk bottles and everything? Just about,’ she thought.

Anne loved arranging anything, and she was soon at work putting away the food and the milk into her odd larder. George laughed when she saw it.

‘Just like you, Anne!’ she said. ‘Well, we’d better put a towel by the spring, for certainly we shall get soaked every time we get out any food!’

‘Tell Timmy he’s not to try and poke his head into my larder,’ said Anne, pushing Timmy away. ‘Oh, now he’s all wet. Go and shake yourself somewhere else, Timmy – you’re showering me with drops of water!’

Toby had to leave them, for it was already past his supper-time. ‘See you tomorrow!’ he said. ‘How I wish I was staying up here with you! So long!’

Away he went down the hill with Binky at his heels. The Five looked at one another and grinned.

‘He’s nice – but it’s good to be alone again – just us Five,’ said George. ‘Come on – let’s settle in. This is the best camp we’ve ever had!’

CHAPTER FIVE

The first night – and a morning visitor

‘WHAT’S THE time?’ said Julian, looking at his watch. ‘Good gracious – it’s almost eight o’clock. Anyone feel tired?’

‘Yes,’ said Dick, Anne and George, and even Timmy joined in with his deepest ‘Woof ’.

‘With all that bicycling and then pushing that heavy cart up the hill, I can hardly move!’ said Dick. ‘I vote we have a simple supper – something out of Anne’s little larder – and then spread our rugs over some thick heather and sleep under the sky. Even up here, with a breeze, it’s warm. I should be stifled in a tent.’

‘Well, we’re all agreed on that,’ said Julian. ‘Anne, what do you suggest for a light supper?’

‘Bread, butter and some of Mrs Thomas’s farm cheese,’ said Anne promptly. ‘With a tomato or two if you like and icy-cold milk and Benny’s strawberries to finish with. That is – if the milk has had time to get cold in the little hole under the spring.’

‘Sounds jolly good,’ said Julian. ‘What do you think, Timmy? Anne, if you and George get the supper ready, Dick and I will prepare our heathery beds. Then we can all turn in as soon as possible. I honestly feel that once I sit down or lie down I’ll not be able to get up again!’

‘Same here,’ said Dick, and went off with Julian to find the best place for sleeping. They soon found one. They came across a giant of a gorse bush, thick, prickly and still full of golden blooms. In front of it was a stretch of very close-set heather, as springy as the best mattress in the world. Dick sat down on it and grinned at Julian.

‘Just made for us!’ he said. ‘We shall sleep like logs here. We hardly need a rug to lie on, it’s so close-grown. Help me up – legs won’t do anything now I’ve sat down!’

Julian pulled him up and they called to the girls: ‘Anne! George! Bring the supper here. We’ve found a good place. It’s by this giant gorse bush.’

The girls came along with the meal, and the boys fetched a couple of rugs from the pile of things that they had brought in the hand-cart. They spread them on the heather.

‘I say! This certainly is a good place,’ said George, coming up with Anne and Timmy carrying a loaf of bread, a pat of butter and tomatoes. Anne had the milk and the cheese. Timmy was carrying a little bag of his own biscuits.

‘The gorse bush will shelter us from too much wind,’ said Dick, taking the milk from Anne. ‘It’s an ideal spot – and the view is superb.’

It was a very happy supper they had, sitting in the heather, while the sun sank lower and lower in the west. The evenings were very light now, and certainly they would not need candles! They finished up everything, and then went to wash at the little spring that bubbled out so cheerfully.

They lay down on their rugs in the heather while it was still daylight. ‘Goodnight!’ said Dick, and promptly fell fast asleep. ‘Goodnight!’ called Julian and lay for a few seconds looking at the view which was now becoming dim and blue.

Timmy kept the two girls awake for a minute or two, trying to squeeze in between them. ‘Do keep still, Timmy,’ said George. ‘And just remember you’re on guard, even though I don’t expect there is anyone nearer than a mile – and that will be at Billycock Farm! Lie still now, or I’ll push you off the rug! Goodnight, Anne.’

George was soon asleep, and so was Timmy, tired out with so many miles of running. Anne lay awake for a few minutes, looking at the evening star which shone large and golden in the sky. She felt very happy. ‘I don’t want to grow up,’ she thought. ‘There can’t be anything nicer in the world than this – being with the others, having fun with them. No – I don’t want to grow up!’

Then she, too, fell asleep, and night came quietly down, with stars brilliant in the sky, and very little noise to be heard anywhere – just the gurgling of the spring some way away, and the far-off bark of some dog – perhaps Binky at the farm. The breeze died down, so that even that could not be heard.

No one except Timmy awoke at all that night. Timmy put up one ear when he heard a squeak just above his head. It came again and he opened one eye. It was a small black bat circling and swooping, hunting for insects. Its squeak was so high that only Timmy’s quick ear caught it. He put down his listening ear and went to sleep again.

Nobody stirred until a very loud noise awakened them. R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! They all woke up with a jump and the boys sat up straight, startled. What could it be?

‘It’s a plane,’ said Julian, staring up at a small aeroplane flying over the hill. ‘It must be one from that airfield down there! I say – it’s five past nine! Five past nine – we’ve slept for nearly twelve hours!’

‘Well, I’m going to sleep for some more,’ said Dick, snuggling down into his heathery bed again and shutting his eyes.

‘No, you’re not,’ said Julian, giving him a shove. ‘It’s too good a day to waste in any more sleep. Hey, you girls – are you awake?’

‘Yes,’ called George, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. ‘That aeroplane woke me. Anne’s awake, too – and you can see that Timmy is; he’s gone after a rabbit or something.’

‘We’ll go and wash at the spring,’ said Anne, scrambling off the rug. ‘And George and I will get breakfast. Anyone like a boiled egg?’

The sun shone down out of a blue sky, and the little breeze awoke and began to blow again. They washed in the cold water, and Timmy drank it, lapping it thirstily as it splashed down over his nose. Then they had their breakfast.

It was easy to make a little fire in the shelter of the giant gorse bush, and boil the eggs in the saucepan. Bread and butter and tomatoes completed the simple meal, with cold creamy milk to wash it down.

In the middle of this Timmy began to bark frantically, but as his tail was wagging all the time, the others guessed that it must be Toby coming. They heard Binky’s answering bark, and then the dog himself appeared, panting and excited. He greeted Timmy first of all, and then ran round to give everyone a lick.

‘Hallo, hallo, hallo!’ came Toby’s voice, and he appeared round the gorse bush. ‘Had a good night? I say, aren’t you late – still having your breakfast? My word, you’re sleepy-heads! I’ve been up since six. I’ve milked cows and cleaned out a shed, and fed the hens and collected the eggs.’

The Five immediately felt ashamed of themselves! They gazed at Toby in admiration – why, he was quite a farmer!

‘I’ve brought you some more milk, bread and eggs and cake,’ he said, and put down a basket.

‘Jolly good of you,’ said Julian. ‘We must pay for any food we get from your farm, you know that. Any idea of how much we owe for yesterday’s food and for what you’ve brought today?’

‘Well, my mother says you don’t need to pay her,’ said Toby. ‘But I know you mean to – so I suggest that you pay me each time and I’ll put the money into a box and buy my mother a smashing present at the end – from you all. Will that do?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Julian. ‘We couldn’t possibly accept food if we didn’t pay for it – but I know what mothers are – they don’t like being paid in money for their kindness! So we’ll do what you say. Now, reckon up what we owe so far, and I’ll pay you.’

‘Right,’ said Toby in a business-like way. ‘I’ll charge you market prices, not top prices. I’ll just tot up the bill while you’re clearing up and putting away what I’ve brought.’

The girls washed up in the spring, and the boys carried everything there for Anne to put in her ‘larder’. Toby presented Julian with a neatly written bill, which he at once paid. Toby receipted the bill and gave it back.

‘There you are – all business-like,’ he said. ‘Thanks very much. What are you going to do today? There are super caves to be explored if you like – or there’s the butterfly farm – or you can just come down to our farm for the day.’

‘No, not today,’ said Julian, afraid that they might make themselves a nuisance to Mrs Thomas. ‘I don’t feel like seeing caves this morning either – so dark and eerie on such a sunny day. What shall we do, girls?’

But before they could decide Binky and Timmy began to bark, each dog standing quite still, facing the same way – towards the giant gorse bush.

‘Who is it, Tim?’ asked George. ‘Go and see! Go on then!’

Timmy ran behind the bush, followed by Binky, and then the children heard a surprised voice.

‘Hallo, Binky! What are you doing all the way up here? And who’s your friend?’

‘It’s Mr Gringle,’ said Toby. ‘One of the men who own the butterfly farm. He’s often up here with his net, because it’s a wonderful place for butterflies.’

A man came round the gorse bush – rather a peculiar figure, untidy, with glasses slipping down his nose, and his hair much too long. He carried a big butterfly net and stopped when he saw the five children.

‘Hallo!’ he said. ‘Who are all these, Toby? Quite a crowd!’

‘Friends of mine, Mr Gringle,’ said Toby solemnly. ‘Allow me to introduce them. Julian Kirrin, Dick Kirrin, Anne Kirrin, George Kirrin, their cousin – and their dog Timothy.’

‘Ha – pleased to meet you!’ said Mr Gringle, and came shambling forward, his big butterfly net over his shoulder. Behind his glasses shone curiously bright eyes. He nodded his head to each of the four cousins. ‘Three boys – and a girl. Very nice lot, too. You don’t look as if you’ll leave litter about or start fires in this lovely countryside.’

‘We shouldn’t dream of it,’ said George, delighted that he had thought she was a boy. Nothing pleased George as much as that! ‘Mr Gringle – could we see your butterfly farm, please? We would so like to!’

‘Of course, my dear boy, of course,’ said Mr Gringle, and his eyes shone as if he were pleased. ‘We don’t often have visitors, so it’s quite an event when somebody comes along. This way, this way!’

CHAPTER SIX

The butterfly farm

MR GRINGLE led the way down the hill by a little path so overgrown that it was hardly possible to see it. Halfway down the little company heard a squealing noise – and then an excited little voice.

‘Toby, Toby! I’m here! Can I come with you?’

‘It’s Benny – and the pigling!’ said Anne, amused at the little couple making their way excitedly towards them. Timmy ran to Curly and sniffed him all over, still not quite sure that he wasn’t some kind of strange puppy.

‘What are you doing up here?’ said Toby sternly. ‘You know you’re not supposed to wander too far from the farm. You’ll get lost one of these days, Benny.’

‘Curly runned away,’ said Benny, looking up at his big brother with wide brown eyes.

‘You mean you wanted to find out where I’d gone so you came after me with Curly,’ said Toby.

‘Curly runned away, he runned fast!’ said Benny, looking as if he was going to cry.

‘You’re a scoundrel, Benny,’ said Toby. ‘You make that pigling of yours an excuse for getting about all over the place. You wait till Dad hears it – you’ll get such a scolding. Well – tail on to us now – we’re going to the butterfly farm. And if Curly runs away, let him! I’m tired of that pig.’

‘I’ll carry him,’ said Benny, and picked up the little creature in his arms. But he soon had to put him down, for Curly squealed so loudly that Timmy and Binky both leapt round him in great concern.

‘Hm – well – shall we proceed?’ asked Mr Gringle, walking on in front. ‘Quite a party we have today.’

‘Are your butterflies afraid of pigs or dogs?’ asked Benny, trotting beside him. ‘Shall we leave them outside?’

‘Don’t ask idiotic questions, Benny,’ said Toby. Then he gave a cry and caught Mr Gringle’s arm. ‘I say – look at that butterfly. Don’t you want to catch it? Is it rare?’

‘No,’ said Mr Gringle rather coldly. ‘It’s a meadow brown – very common indeed. Don’t they teach you anything at school? Fancy not knowing that!’

‘Julian, do we have any butterfly lessons?’ asked Toby with a grin. ‘I say, Mr Gringle, what about you coming and teaching us about cabbage butterflies and cauliflower moths, and red admirals and blue captains and peacock butterflies and ostrich moths and . . .’

‘Don’t be an ass, Toby,’ said Julian, seeing that Mr Gringle had no sense of humour at all, and did not think this in the least funny. ‘Mr Gringle, are there many rare butterflies about here?’

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ said the butterfly man. ‘But not only that – there are so many of all kinds here, and it is easy to catch as many as I want for breeding purposes. One butterfly means hundreds of eggs, you know – and we hatch them out and sell them.’

He suddenly made a dart to one side, almost knocking George over. ‘Sorry, boy!’ he said, making the others smile. ‘Sorry! There’s a brown argus there – a lovely specimen, first I’ve seen this year! Stand clear, will you.’

The children – and the dogs too – stood still as he tiptoed towards a small dark brown butterfly spreading its tiny wings as it sat on a flowering plant. With a swift downwards swoop the net closed over the plant, and in a trice the butterfly man had caught the fluttering insect. He pinched the net inwards, and showed the children the tiny creature.

‘There you are – a female brown argus, one of the family of the Blue butterflies you see so often in full summer. She’ll lay me plenty of eggs and they’ll all hatch into fat little slug-like caterpillars, and . . .’

‘But this isn’t a blue butterfly,’ said Anne, looking through the fine net. ‘It’s dark brown, with a row of pretty orange spots along the margins of its wings.’

‘All the same, it belongs to the Blue butterfly family,’ said Mr Gringle, taking it out with the gentlest of fingers and putting it into a tin case slung round his shoulders. ‘It’s probably come up from one of those hay meadows down in the valley there. In you go, my little beauty!’

‘Mr Gringle, quick – here’s a most lovely butterfly!’ called George. ‘It’s got greeny-black front wings with red spots, and lovely red back wings with dark green borders. Oh, quick – I’m sure you want this one!’

‘That’s not a butterfly,’ said Dick, who knew a good deal about them.

‘I should think not!’ said Mr Gringle, getting his net poised ready to swoop. ‘It’s a moth – a lovely little thing!’ Down went his net and the pretty little red and green insect fluttered in surprise inside it.

‘But moths don’t fly in the daytime,’ argued George. ‘Only at night.’

‘Rubbish!’ said Mr Gringle, looking at the moth through the thick lenses of his glasses. ‘What are boys coming to nowadays? In my boyhood nearly every boy knew that there are night-time and daytime ones as well!’

‘But,’ began George again, and stopped as Mr Gringle gave her quite a glare.

‘This is a six-spot burnet day-flying moth,’ he said speaking slowly as if he were addressing a very small child. ‘It loves to fly in the hot sunshine. Please do not argue with me. I don’t like ignorance of this sort.’

George looked rather mutinous and Dick nudged her. ‘He’s right, fathead,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You don’t know much about moths, so say nothing, George, or he won’t let us go with him.’

‘I’d like two or three more of these six-spots – highly coloured and unusually large. Perhaps you would see if you can find any more, all of you.’

Everybody began to look here and there, and to shake any little bush or clump of grass they passed. Timmy and Binky were most interested in this and began a hunt on their own, sniffing and snuffling everywhere, not quite sure what they were looking for, but enjoying it all the same.

Mr Gringle took a long time to get to his butterfly farm, and the children began to wish they hadn’t asked to go. There was so much side-stepping to see this and that, so much examining when a specimen was caught, so much ‘talky-talk’, as Dick whispered to Anne.

‘Do you keep your butterflies and moths in those glasshouses?’ asked Julian.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Gringle. ‘Come along – I’ll show you what I and my friend Mr Brent do. He’s away today, so you can’t meet him.’

It was certainly a strange place. The cottage looked as if it were about to fall down at any moment. Two of the windows were broken and some tiles had fallen off the roof. But the glasshouses were in good repair, and the glass panes were perfectly clean. Evidently the butterfly men thought more of their butterflies and moths than they did of themselves.

‘Do you live here all alone with Mr Brent, your friend?’ asked Dick curiously, thinking that it must be a strange and lonely life.

‘Oh, no. Old Mrs Janes lives here too,’ said Mr Gringle. ‘And sometimes her son comes to do my small repairs, and to clean all the glass of the butterfly houses. There’s the old lady, look. She can’t bear insects of any sort, so she never comes into the glasshouses.’

An old woman, looking exactly like a witch, peered out at them through a window in the cottage. Anne was quite scared to see her. Toby grinned. ‘She’s quite harmless,’ he said to Anne. ‘Our cook knows her because she often comes to us for eggs and milk. She’s got no teeth at all, so she mutters and mumbles and that makes her seem more like a witch than ever.’

‘I don’t much like the look of her,’ said Anne, going thankfully into the first of the butterfly houses. ‘Oh – what a lot of butterflies!’

There certainly were! Hundreds were flying about loose, and many others were in little compartments either by themselves or with another butterfly to match.

The children saw that many bushes and plants were growing in the glasshouse, and on some of them were placed long sleeves made of muslin, tied in at each end.

‘What’s in these long sleeves of fine muslin?’ asked Dick. ‘Oh – I see. They are full of caterpillars! My word, how they are eating, too!’

‘Yes. I told you we breed butterflies and moths,’ said Mr Gringle, and he opened the end of one of the muslin bags, so that the visitors could see the caterpillars better. ‘These are the caterpillars of one kind of butterfly; they feed on this particular plant.’

The children gazed at scores of green caterpillars, marked with red and yellow spots, all eating greedily on the leaves of the twig enclosed there. Mr Gringle undid another of the muslin bags and showed them some huge caterpillars, each of them green, with purple stripes on the side and a curious black horn on the tail end.

‘Privet hawk-moth caterpillars,’ said Mr Gringle, and Julian and Dick nodded. They knew these big green caterpillars quite well.

‘Why is the moth called privet hawk?’ asked Anne. ‘There are so many different hawk-moths, I know. I’ve often wondered why they are all called hawk.’

Mr Gringle beamed at Anne, evidently thinking that this was a quite intelligent question. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a hawk-moth flying?’ he said. ‘No? Well, it flies very strongly indeed. Oh, a most striking flight – like the flight of the bird called a hawk, you know.’

‘You’re not feeding the caterpillars on privet, though,’ said George. ‘But you said they were privet hawks.’

‘There isn’t any privet growing near here,’ said Mr Gringle. ‘So I give them elder – this is an elder bush which I planted in the glasshouse. They like it just as much.’

The butterfly farm was certainly interesting, and the children wandered about the glasshouse watching caterpillars of all kinds, admiring the lovely specimens of butterflies, and marvelling at the collection of curious-shaped chrysalides and cocoons that Mr Gringle kept carefully in boxes, waiting for the perfect insect, moth or butterfly, to emerge.

‘Like magic,’ he said in an awed voice, his eyes shining behind his glasses. ‘Sometimes, you know, I feel like a magician myself – and my butterfly net is a wand!’

The children felt rather uncomfortable as he said this, waving his butterfly net to and fro like a wand. He really was rather an odd person.

‘It’s terribly hot in here,’ said Julian suddenly. ‘Let’s get into the fresh air. I’ve had enough. Goodbye, Mr Gringle, and thank you!’

Out they all went and drew in deep breaths of fresh air. And then they heard a croaking voice behind them.

‘Get out of here!’ said the voice. ‘Get out!’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mrs Janes – a spider – and a pool

TIMMY GROWLED, and so did Binky. The children swung round and saw the old witch-like woman standing there, her wispy grey hair hanging over her face.

‘What’s the matter, Mrs – er – Mrs Janes?’ said Julian, fortunately remembering the name Mr Gringle had told them. ‘We’re not doing any harm.’

‘My son doesn’t like strangers here,’ said Mrs Janes, mumbling so much that the children could hardly understand what she was saying.

‘But this place belongs to Mr Gringle surely, and his friend,’ said Dick, puzzled.

‘I tell you my son doesn’t like strangers here,’ mumbled the old woman again and shook her fist at them.

Timmy didn’t like this, and growled. She at once pointed her finger at him and muttered a long string of strange-sounding words so that Anne shrank back, afraid. Really, Mrs Janes did look exactly like a witch – and sounded like one, too.

Timmy acted strangely. He put his tail down, stopped growling and crept close to George. She was most astonished.

‘It looks as if she’s trying to put a spell on old Tim,’ said Dick, half laughing, but that was too much for Anne and George.

Taking Timmy by the collar, George rushed off quickly with Anne following. The boys laughed. Binky ran after Timmy, and Toby spoke boldly to the funny old woman.

‘Your son isn’t even here – so what business is it of his to tell you to give orders to visitors?’

Tears suddenly began to pour down the old woman’s face and she wrung her bony hands together. ‘He’ll hit me,’ she wept. ‘He’ll twist my arm! Go away! Do go away! If he comes, he’ll chase you off. He’s a bad man, my son!’

‘She’s mad, poor old thing,’ said Toby, feeling sorry for old Mrs Janes. ‘Our cook often says so, though she’s harmless enough. Her son’s not too bad – he’s quite handy at repairs, and we used to have him come to the farm to mend roofs and things like that. But he’s not so good as he used to be. Come on – let’s go. Mr Gringle’s a bit peculiar, too, isn’t he?’

They went off after the two girls, Toby still feeling uncomfortable and distressed.

‘What’s Mr Gringle’s friend like – the one who helps him?’ Julian asked.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen him,’ said Toby. ‘He’s away mostly, doing the business side, I think – selling specimens of eggs, caterpillars and so on – and the perfect moths and butterflies too, of course.’

‘I’d like to see that butterfly house again, but Mr Gringle gets on my nerves,’ said Dick. ‘Those brilliant eyes behind those thick glasses. You’d think that if they were as bright and piercing as that he wouldn’t need to wear any glasses at all!’

‘Hey, George – Anne!’ shouted Julian. ‘Wait for us – we’re just coming.’ They caught up with the girls and Julian grinned at George.

‘You thought old Timmy was going to be changed into a black beetle or something, didn’t you?’ he said.

‘No, of course not,’ said George, going red. ‘I just didn’t like her very much – pointing her finger like that at Timmy. No wonder he growled.’

‘You didn’t hear what she said about her son,’ said Dick. ‘She began to cry like anything after you’d gone, and say that her son would beat her and twist her arm if we didn’t go – and he’s not even there!’

‘She’s mad,’ said George. ‘I don’t want to go there again. What are we going to do now?’

‘Go up to our camping place and have our lunch,’ said Julian promptly. ‘Come with us, Toby – or have you got jobs to do at the farm?’

‘No. I’ve done them all,’ said Toby. ‘I’d love to have a meal with you up on the hill.’

It wasn’t very long before they were back at their camping place. Everything was as they had left it – anoraks neatly under the gorse bush with the rugs and other little things – and the food in Anne’s ‘larder’ waiting for them.

The meal was very hilarious, as Toby was in one of his silly moods, and produced some idiotic jokes. The most successful one was a large imitation spider with shaky legs, which, while Anne and George had gone to get the food, he hung by a thin nylon thread to a spray on the nearby gorse bush. Dick grinned broadly.

‘Wait till Anne sees that!’ he said. ‘George always says she doesn’t mind spiders, but a big one like that is distinctly creepy.’

It certainly was. Anne didn’t spot it until she was eating her strawberries, covered with some of the cream that Toby’s mother had generously sent. Then she suddenly spied it, shaking slightly in the breeze, hanging by its thread just over George’s head.

‘Ooooooooh!’ she squealed. ‘Ooooh, George – be careful! There’s a MONSTER spider just over your head!’

‘What – is George scared of spiders?’ cried Toby at once. ‘Just like a girl!’

George glared at him. ‘I don’t mind them at all,’ she said coldly.

‘George – do move!’ cried Anne, upsetting her strawberries in her anxiety. ‘It’s almost on your head, I tell you – its legs are wobbling as if they are going to settle on your hair. George, it’s an ENORMOUS one! It might even be one of those tarantulas or something!’

The wind blew a little just then and the spider moved about on the thread most realistically. Even Dick was glad it wasn’t alive!

George couldn’t resist looking up, pretending to be quite unmoved – but when she saw the enormous creature just above her she shot straight out of her place and landed on Toby’s legs, making him spill his strawberries and cream.

‘Now, now, Georgina,’ said the annoying Toby, picking up his strawberries. ‘You said you didn’t mind spiders. I’ll remove it for you, and you can go back to your place.’

‘No, no – don’t touch it – ugh!’ cried Anne. But Toby, putting on a very brave face, leant over and neatly took the spider off the gorse bush, still swinging by its thread. He swung it near to Anne, who scrambled up at once.

Then he made it ‘walk’ over Dick’s knee, and Timmy came to investigate at once. Binky came too, and snapped at it, breaking the nylon thread that held it.

‘Ass!’ said Toby, giving him a tap. ‘My beautiful spider – my spinner of webs – my tame catcher of flies!’

‘What – is it a tame one?’ said Anne in horror.

‘More or less,’ said Toby, and put it carefully into his pocket, grinning all over his round face.

‘That’s enough, Toby,’ said Julian. ‘Joke’s finished.’

George stared at Toby, her face growing crimson. ‘A joke? A JOKE! You wait till I pay you back, Toby! I don’t call that a joke . . . I call it a mean trick. You knew Anne hated spiders.’

‘Let’s change the subject,’ said Dick hastily. ‘What are we going to do this afternoon?’

‘I know what I’d like to do,’ said Julian longingly. ‘I’d like a bathe. It’s so jolly hot. If we were at Kirrin I’d be in the sea all the afternoon.’

‘I wish we were at Kirrin,’ said George sulkily.

‘Well – if you really do want a bathe, I can take you to a pool,’ said Toby, anxious to get into everyone’s good books again.

‘A pool? Where?’ said Dick eagerly.

‘Well – see that airfield down there?’ said Toby pointing. ‘And see this spring here, where you get your water? It goes on and on running down the hill, joins two or three more little rivulets, and ends in a smashing pool not far from the airfield. Cold as ice it is, too. I’ve often bathed there.’

‘It sounds jolly good,’ said Julian, pleased. ‘Well, we can’t bathe immediately after a meal. We’ll do the washing-up, and put the rest of the food away. Then we’ll sit here and have a bit of a rest, and then go and find this pool.’

Everyone agreed to this and they all set to work. The girls hurried off to the little spring.

‘If Toby has any more idiotic tricks like that I’ll play a few on him!’ said George. ‘In fact I’ve a good mind to pull him under in the pool.’

‘He’s all right, George,’ said Anne. ‘He’s just like that at school, Dick says. He must drive the masters mad!’

They soon joined the boys and had a short rest, while Timmy and Binky went off amiably together to do a little hunting – sniffing down holes and under bushes, looking very serious indeed. They came back immediately George whistled.

‘We’re going, Timmy,’ said George. ‘Here’s your swimsuit, Dick, and yours, Julian. Good thing we brought them with us!’

‘What about you, Toby? You haven’t a swimsuit with you,’ said Julian.

‘We have to pass fairly near the farm,’ said Toby. ‘I’ll leave you when we’re near there and get mine – it won’t take more than five minutes if I run all the way back.’

They set off down the hill towards the airfield. Except for the plane they had heard that morning, they had heard and seen none. It seemed a very quiet airfield.

‘Wait till they start experimenting with the new fighter planes my cousin told me about!’ said Toby. ‘You’ll hear a noise then – they’re so fast they break the sound barrier every time they go up!’

‘Would your cousin let us look over the airfield one day?’ asked Julian. ‘I’d like to do that. Look – isn’t that your farm, Toby? We’ve got here jolly quickly – but it’s all downhill, of course.’

‘Yes,’ said Toby. ‘Come on, Binky – race you home and back. Shan’t be long, Julian! Keep straight ahead and walk towards that big pine tree you can see in the distance. I’ll be with you by the time you’re there.’

He raced off at top speed, while the others went on slowly towards the pine trees in the distance. It would be heavenly to bathe in a cool pool!

Toby was certainly a fast runner! Just before they reached the pine tree he came up behind them, his swimsuit over his shoulder, so out of breath that he could hardly speak!

‘It’s over there,’ he panted. ‘Look – the pool!’

And sure enough, there was the pool – deep blue, cool and as smooth as glass. Trees surrounded it on one side, and heather grew right down to the edge.

The five children went towards it gladly – but suddenly they came to a big notice, nailed to a tree:

KEEP OUT
DANGER
CROWN PROPERTY

‘I say – what does that mean?’ said Dick in dismay. ‘We can’t bathe after all!’

‘Oh, take no notice of that,’ said Toby. ‘It doesn’t mean a thing!’

But it did as they were very soon to find out!

CHAPTER EIGHT

A spot of trouble

‘WHAT DO you mean by saying that the notice doesn’t mean a thing?’ said Julian. ‘Why put it up, then?’

‘Oh, there are notices like that all round the airfield,’ said Toby airily. ‘Telling you to KEEP OUT, there’s DANGER. But there isn’t. Only aeroplanes are here, no guns, no bombs, nothing. It’s a jolly lonely place, too, tucked away at the foot of this hill.’

‘Why don’t you ask your cousin why they put up the notices?’ asked Dick. ‘There must be some reason!’

‘I tell you those notices have been up for ages,’ said Toby, sounding cross. ‘Ages! They might have been some use at some time or other, but not now. We can bathe here and do what we like.’

‘All right – but I hope you know what you’re talking about,’ said Julian. ‘I must say I can’t see any sense myself in putting notices here – there’s no wire or fencing to keep anyone out.’

‘Let’s get into our bathing things, then,’ said Dick. ‘You girls can have that bush over there and we’ll have this one. Buck up!’

They were soon changed into their swimsuits, and dived into the pool, which was surprisingly deep. It was also deliciously cool, and silky to the touch, just as the spring water had been. The two dogs leapt in gladly and swam vigorously round and round. The children splashed them, and Timmy began to bark excitedly.

‘Shut up, Timmy!’ said Toby at once.

‘Why should he?’ demanded George, swimming up.

‘Well – someone at the airfield might hear him,’ said Toby.

‘You said it didn’t matter us being here!’ said George. ‘Look out for yourself!’ She dived underwater and got hold of Toby’s legs, pulling him down. He yelled and kicked and spluttered, but George was strong and she gave him a very, very good ducking! He came up purple in the face.

‘I said I’d pay you back for the spider!’ yelled George, and swam strongly away. Toby swam after her, and she led him a fine dance round the pool, for she was a splendid swimmer. The others laughed at the contest.

‘I back old George,’ said Dick. ‘She’d outswim most boys. Well, she’s put Toby in his place all right. He won’t be so free with spiders and silly jokes for a while!’

Timmy began to bark again when he saw Toby chasing George, and Binky joined in.

‘Shut up, Binky!’ shouted Toby, ‘I tell you stop barking!’

Before Binky had obeyed, something happened. A very loud voice came across the pool.

‘What’s all this! You’re trespassing on Crown property. Didn’t you see the notice?’

The dogs stopped barking and the five children looked round to see who was shouting. Their heads bobbed on the surface of the water as they gazed about to find the shouter.

It was a man in Air Force uniform, a big man, burly and red-faced.

‘What’s the matter?’ called Julian, swimming towards him. ‘We’re only bathing. We’re not doing any harm.’

‘Didn’t you see the notice?’ shouted the man, pointing over to it.

‘Yes. But we couldn’t see much danger here,’ called back Julian, wishing now that he hadn’t believed Toby.

‘You come on out!’ roared the man. ‘All of you. Come on.’

They all waded out of the cool pond, Anne feeling scared. The dogs splashed out, too, and stood eyeing the man grimly. He calmed down a little when he saw them.

‘Those your dogs I heard barking? Well, now, I see you’re all kids – though one of you’s big enough to know better!’ and he pointed to Julian. ‘I thought maybe you were day-trippers – thinking you could come wandering on the airfield and not get into trouble!’

‘Day-trippers don’t come here,’ said Toby, squeezing the water out of his hair.

‘Nor do sensible children,’ retorted the man. ‘I’ve had trouble from you before, haven’t I? Yes. Didn’t you come walking round the hangars bold as brass one day? And that dog with you, too?’

‘I only went to see my cousin, Flight-Lieutenant Thomas,’ said Toby. ‘I wasn’t doing any harm – I wasn’t spying. I tell you I only went to see my cousin!’

‘Well, I shall report you to him,’ said the man, ‘and tell him to give you a proper ticking off. We’ve strict instructions to warn off anyone – there’s notices everywhere.’

‘Is something hush-hush going on then?’ said Toby with a sudden grin.

‘As if I’d tell you if there was!’ said the man in disgust. ‘Far as I can see, there’s nothing much doing here – dull as ditch-water this place – and as far as I’m concerned I’d welcome a horde of day-trippers – it would liven up the place no end. But orders are orders, as you very well know.’

Julian thought it was about time that he should join in. The man was only doing his duty, and Toby was an ass to have said that the notices meant nothing.

‘Well, we apologise for trespassing,’ he said in his clear, pleasant voice. ‘We shan’t bathe here again, I promise you. Sorry to have made you come all this way to warn us off.’

The RAF guard looked at Julian with respect.

There was something about the boy that reassured people, and the man now felt quite sure that it was all Toby’s fault. He smiled.

‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘Sorry to cut your bathe short this hot day. And – er – if that rogue of a boy here’ – he pointed to Toby – ‘if he cares to ask Flight-Lieutenant Thomas for permission to bathe in this pool at certain hours, it’s OK by me. I shan’t come running then when I hear dogs barking and a lot of shouting if I know you’re allowed here at certain hours.’

‘Thanks,’ said Julian. ‘But anyway we’re only here for a few days.’

‘So long,’ said the man and walked off smartly.

‘Well,’ said Toby, quite unashamed, ‘what did he want to come messing about here for, spoiling our bathe? He said there wasn’t anything secret going on, so why . . .’

‘Oh shut up!’ said Dick. ‘You heard what he said about orders being orders? He’s not a silly schoolboy trying to be clever and getting out of doing his work – yes, like you do at school, Toby, and a good many of the others! He’s a man in uniform. You’d better grow up a bit, young Toby.’

‘I agree,’ said Julian. ‘So don’t let’s hear any more about it. You slipped up, Toby, and that’s all there is to it. Now let’s dry ourselves and go to the farm and ask your nice kind mother if she’ll let us have some more food to take back to our camp with us. I’m as hungry as a hunter after our bathe.’

Toby was rather subdued after all this. He glanced at George to see if she was gloating over his ticking off, but George was never one to exult over anyone’s downfall, and Toby felt relieved.

‘Shall I ask my cousin if he’ll get permission for us to bathe in the pool?’ he said as they went away from the water, dry and dressed again.

‘I think not,’ said Julian. ‘But I’d like to meet your cousin some time all the same.’

‘He might take us up in a plane,’ said Toby hopefully, his spirits rising at the thought. ‘Oh, look there – here’s that little wretch Benny again – and the pigling!’

Benny panted up, carrying the little pig. ‘You look like Tom, Tom the Piper’s Son,’ said Julian, ruffling the yellow curls. ‘He stole a pig and ran away, carrying it under his arm.’

‘But this is my own pig,’ said Benny, surprised. ‘I didn’t steal him. I came to find you, because my mother says come to tea.’

‘You have got a nice mother!’ said Anne, taking the small boy’s hand. ‘Why don’t you put the pig down? He must be so heavy.’

‘He runned away again,’ said Benny severely. ‘So I carried him.’

‘Put a collar on his neck, with a lead,’ suggested Dick.

‘He hasn’t got a neck,’ said Benny, and indeed the pigling was so plump that his head joined his body without any neck at all.

The little procession made its way to the farm, and the pigling at once ran in front, squealing. It seemed surprised and delighted to find it was home again. Timmy pricked up his ears when it squealed. He thought that it must be in pain, and he was worried! He ran beside the little creature, trying to nuzzle it.

Mrs Thomas saw them through the window. ‘Come along in!’ she said. ‘I thought you might like to have tea here again today, because I’ve a visitor you’d like to meet!’

‘Who is it?’ cried Toby, running indoors. ‘Oh! it’s you, Cousin Jeff. Hey, Julian, Dick – look, it’s my Cousin Jeff from the airfield – Flight-Lieutenant Thomas! The one I told you about! Cousin Jeff, meet my friends – Julian, Dick, Anne, Georgina – er, I mean George – and Timmy!’

A tall, good-looking young man stood up, smiling. The Five gazed at him, liking him very much indeed. They all envied Toby at that moment. No wonder he had boasted about him so much!

‘Hallo to you!’ said Cousin Jeff. ‘Glad to see you all. ‘Hey – look at this dog!’

And well might everyone look, for Timmy had marched straight up to him and then held up a paw. ‘Wuff !’ he said, which, of course, meant ‘Shake’!

‘How do you do?’ said Cousin Jeff solemnly, and shook paws with Timmy at once.

‘Timmy’s never done that before!’ said George, astonished. ‘Well – what a surprising thing! He must like you very much!’

CHAPTER NINE

Cousin Jeff

‘I LIKE dogs,’ said Jeff, and patted Timmy on the head. ‘This is a fine one – as smart as can be, too, isn’t he?’

George nodded, pleased. She loved anyone to praise Timmy. ‘Yes, he’s very clever. He’s been in heaps of adventures with us. He can be very fierce if he thinks anyone is going to attack us. Oh, look – he wants to shake hands again! Isn’t he funny!’

Jeff shook paws once more and then Timmy settled down beside him, almost as if he considered himself to be his dog. George didn’t mind. She liked Cousin Jeff as much as Timmy did!

‘Tell us about your job,’ begged Dick. ‘It’s such a strange airfield, the one you’re at – no fencing round it, hardly any planes, nobody about the field! Do you do much flying?’

‘Not much at the moment,’ said Cousin Jeff. ‘But don’t be misled by the fact that there’s no fencing round the airfield! Believe me, the commanding officer knows immediately if any stranger comes into the district, and – er – well, let us say that extra precautions are taken.’

‘Really?’ said George. ‘Do you mean to say, for instance, that your commanding officer knows we’ve arrived?’

‘You bet he does,’ said Jeff, laughing. ‘You’ve probably been given the once-over already, though you didn’t know it. I expect someone has been detailed to find out who you are and why you’re here, and you may even have been watched for a few hours – though you had no idea of it.’

This was rather a creepy thought. Watched? How? By whom? And where did they hide to watch? Dick asked Jeff these questions, but the young airman shook his head.

‘Sorry. Can’t answer,’ he said. ‘But you needn’t worry, you’re all right. Maybe my aunt here has said a few words about you – you never know!’

Mrs Thomas smiled, but said nothing. She beckoned to Anne and George to help her to bring in the tea – just as good a one as they had had before. The girls bustled about, setting out cups and saucers, while the boys talked to Cousin Jeff and asked him eager questions about planes and flying and how this was done and that.

‘I suppose you wouldn’t take us up some time, Cousin Jeff, would you?’ asked Toby at last.

‘I don’t think I’d be allowed to,’ said Jeff. ‘In fact I don’t think I can even ask. You see, the planes there are pretty special – you can’t go joy-riding in them and . . .’

‘Of course we see,’ said Julian hurriedly, afraid of embarrassing the friendly young airman. ‘We wouldn’t dream of bothering you. When are you going up next? Can we watch you from our camping place?’

‘Yes, I should think you could see me with field-glasses,’ said Jeff, considering. ‘I’ll tell you the number of my plane – it’s painted underneath it, of course, so you’ll know it’s me if you see it circling over the hill. But I shan’t do any stunts, I’m afraid – like coming down low to you, or anything like that. Only silly beginners do that.’

‘We’ll look out for you,’ said Dick, quite envious of Toby for having such a fine young cousin. ‘I don’t expect you’ll see us – but we’ll wave anyway!’

Tea was now ready and they all drew up their chairs. Benny wandered in with his pigling under his arm, and set it down in the cat’s basket, where it stayed quite peacefully, falling asleep and making tiny, grunting snores.

‘Does the cat mind?’ asked George, astonished, looking at the basket.

‘Not a bit,’ said Mrs Thomas. ‘It had to put up with two goslings last year in its basket – and something the year before . . .’

‘A lamb,’ said Toby.

‘Oh yes – and old Tabby – that’s the cat – didn’t seem to worry at all,’ said Mrs Thomas, pouring out creamy milk for everyone, even Cousin Jeff. ‘I once found her curled up round the goslings one morning, purring loudly.’

‘Good old Tabby!’ said Toby. ‘Where is she? I’d like to see what she thinks of Curly. She couldn’t cuddle him – he takes up nearly all the basket, he’s so plump.’

Tea was a merry meal, with Toby playing the fool, putting a spoonful of sifted sugar on the side of Anne’s plate to eat with her crisp radishes instead of salt, and offering the salt to George to eat with her strawberries.

Both girls were listening so intently to Cousin Jeff that they didn’t even notice what Toby had done, and he almost fell off his chair with laughing when he saw their faces. Salt with strawberries – ugh! Sugar and radishes – ugh!

‘Funny boy, aren’t you?’ said George, annoyed at being tricked. ‘You wait!’ But Toby was too wily to be tricked and George had to give it up. Anyway, she couldn’t bother with Toby when Cousin Jeff was talking about planes, his eyes shining with pleasure. Flying was his great love, and in listening to him all three boys there made up their minds to take it up as soon as ever they could!

Benny didn’t listen much. He was more interested in animals than in planes. He ate his tea solemnly and watched his pigling in the cat’s basket, occasionally leaning over to tap his mother’s hand when he wanted to speak to her.

‘Curly runned away again,’ he told her solemnly. ‘Right up to the horse-pond.’

‘I thought I had told you not to go there,’ said his mother. ‘You fell in last time.’

‘But Curly runned there,’ said Benny, his big eyes looking very wide and innocent. ‘I had to go after him, didn’t I? He’s my pigling.’

‘Well, I shall scold Curly if he takes you to places you’ve been told not to go to,’ said his mother. ‘I can’t let him grow up disobedient, can I?’

This needed thinking over, and Benny ate his tea with a serious face, ignoring the others. Anne looked at him several times, delighted with the solemn little boy and his funny ways. How nice it would be to have a small brother like that!

‘Well, I must be off,’ said Jeff when the meal was finished. ‘Thanks most awfully for a super tea, Aunt Sarah – but then your teas always are super! I was jolly lucky to be stationed here so near to Billycock Farm! Well, so long, everyone! So long, Timmy!’

Everyone went with him to the gate, Timmy and Binky as well, and Benny awoke his little pig and carried him to the gate too, squealing and kicking. They all watched the tall, sturdy young airman striding away round the hill.

‘Do you like him?’ asked Toby proudly. ‘Isn’t he super? I’m awfully proud of him. He’s supposed to be one of the cleverest flying men in the kingdom – did you know?’

‘No, we didn’t,’ said Dick. ‘But I’m not surprised. He’s got eyes as keen as a hawk’s, and he’s heart and soul in his work! How lucky for you that he is stationed so near!’

‘We’d better get back to our camp when we’ve helped your mother to clear away and wash-up,’ said Julian, anxious not to outstay his welcome at the farm. ‘Toby, can you pack us up a bit more food in case we don’t see you tomorrow?’

‘Right,’ said Toby, and went off, whistling.

Benny appeared again with Curly running round his feet.

‘Hallo!’ said Dick with a grin. ‘Is that pigling of yours running away again?’

Benny grinned back. ‘If he runned away to your camp, would you be cross?’ he asked, looking most innocently up at Dick.

‘He mustn’t do that,’ said Dick seriously, guessing what was in the little boy’s mind; he meant to go to find the camp himself, and then say that it was Curly who had ‘runned away’ there! ‘You see, you might lose your way if you went so far.’

Benny said no more, but wandered off with his comical pet running in front of him. The boys went to find Toby to see if they could help him to pack food into a basket. ‘We must pay his bill, too,’ said Julian, feeling for his purse. ‘It was a good idea of his to save up the money to buy his mother a present. She really is a darling.’

Soon the Five were on their way back to their camp again. Toby was left behind to do his usual jobs of collecting the eggs, washing them and grading them into sizes for the market. ‘I’ll be up tomorrow!’ he called after them. ‘We’ll plan something good to do – maybe visit the caves if you like!’

The four children went up the steep slope of Billycock Hill, talking, while Timmy ranged in front, sniffing everywhere as usual. And then suddenly a large butterfly sailed through the air, and came to rest on a flower of a blossoming elder bush, just in front of George – a butterfly that none of them had ever seen before.

‘Look at that! What is it?’ cried Anne in delight. ‘Oh, what a beauty! Julian, what is it?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea!’ said Julian, astonished. ‘It may be an unusual fritillary, though it’s early in the year for those. That butterfly man – what’s his name now? – Mr Gringle – said that this hill was famous for rare butterflies, and I imagine this is pretty uncommon. It is a beauty, isn’t it?’

They watched the butterfly opening and shutting its magnificent wings on the white blossom. ‘We ought to try and catch it,’ said Dick. ‘I’m sure that Mr Gringle would be thrilled. It might lay eggs for him and start a whole breed of uncommon butterflies in this country.’

‘I’ve got a very thin hanky,’ said Anne. ‘I think I can catch it without harming its wings – and we’ll put it into the little box that Toby filled with sugar lumps for us. Get it and empty it, Dick.’

In half a minute the butterfly was inside the box, quite unharmed, for Anne had been very deft in catching it.

‘What a magnificent creature!’ said Dick, shutting the box. ‘Now come on – we’ll give Mr Gringle a surprise!’

‘What about that witch woman – you know, Mrs Janes, who looks exactly like a witch?’ said Anne. ‘I don’t want to meet her again.’

‘I’ll tell her to jump on her broomstick and fly away!’ said Julian with a laugh. ‘Don’t be silly, Anne – she can’t hurt you.’

They went off round the hill, taking the little path down which Mr Gringle had guided them. Soon they saw the reflection of the sun glittering on the glasshouses. Anne and George hesitated as they came near, and Timmy stopped, too, his tail down.

‘Well, stay there, then,’ said Dick impatiently. ‘Ju and I won’t be long!’ And off went the two boys together, while George and Anne waited in the distance.

‘I hope they won’t be long!’ said Anne, worried. ‘I don’t know why I feel creepy here, but I do!’

CHAPTER TEN

Butterfly farm again

DICK AND Julian went to the glasshouses where the butterflies and caterpillars lived. They peered through the panes, but could see nobody there.

‘Mr Gringle must be in the cottage,’ said Julian. ‘Let’s stand outside and call – he’ll come out then. I don’t much like Mrs Janes.’

So they stood outside the tumbledown cottage and shouted: ‘Mr Gringle! Mr Gringle!’

Nobody answered. No Mr Gringle came out, but somebody pulled aside the corner of a window curtain upstairs and peeped out. The boys shouted again, waving at the window.

‘Mr Gringle! We’ve got a rare butterfly for you!’

The window opened and old Mrs Janes looked out, seeming more witch-like than ever.

‘Mr Gringle’s away!’ she mumbled.

‘What about his friend Mr Brent – the one we didn’t see?’ shouted Dick. ‘Is he in?’

The old woman stared at them, mumbled something else, and then disappeared very suddenly indeed from the window.

Dick looked at Julian in surprise.

‘Why did she go so suddenly? Almost as if somebody pulled her roughly away? Julian, I don’t like it.’

‘Why? Do you think that son of hers is here – the one she said was cruel to her?’ asked Julian, who was puzzled, too.

‘I don’t know,’ said Dick. ‘Let’s snoop round a bit. Perhaps Mr Gringle is somewhere about, whatever old Mrs Janes says!’

They went round the corner of the house and peered into a shed. Nobody there. Then they heard footsteps and turned round hurriedly. A man was coming towards them, small and thin, with a pinched-looking face, and dark glasses. He carried a butterfly net, and nodded at the two boys.

‘My friend Gringle is away,’ he said. ‘Can I do anything for you?’

‘Oh – you’re Mr Brent then?’ said Dick. ‘Look – we’ve found a rare butterfly. That’s why we came!’

He undid the box in which the butterfly was peacefully resting, having found a tiny grain of sugar to feed on. Mr Brent looked at it through his dark glasses.

‘Hm! Hm!’ he said, peering closely at it. ‘Yes, very fine indeed. I’ll buy it off you for fifty pence.’

‘Oh, you can have it for nothing,’ said Dick. ‘What is it?’

‘Can’t say without examining it closely,’ said Mr Brent, and took the box and put the lid on again.

‘But isn’t it some kind of fritillary?’ asked Julian. ‘We thought it was.’

‘Quite likely,’ said Mr Brent, and suddenly produced a fifty pence piece and shoved it at Dick. ‘Here you are. Much obliged. I’ll tell Mr Gringle you came.’

He turned abruptly and went off, his butterfly net still over his shoulder.

Dick stared at the fifty pence piece in his hand, then at the receding back of Mr Brent.

‘What a peculiar fellow!’ he said. ‘Well, I must say that he and Mr Gringle are a pair! What are we to do with this money, Julian? I don’t want it!’

‘Let’s see if we can give it to that poor Mrs Janes,’ said Julian, always generous. ‘She looks as if they paid her only about ten pence a week, poor soul.’

They went round to the front of the house, hoping to find the old woman, and after a little hesitation knocked at the door. It opened and she stood there, mumbling as before.

‘You go away! My son’s coming back. He’ll hit me. He doesn’t like strangers. You go away, I say!’

‘All right,’ said Dick. ‘Look – here’s something for you,’ and he pressed the fifty pence into her clawlike hand. She looked at it as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, and then, amazingly quickly she slipped the money into one of her broken-down shoes. When she stood up her eyes were full of tears.

‘You’re kind,’ she whispered, and gave them a little push. ‘Yes, you’re kind. Keep away from here. My son’s a bad man. Keep away!’

The boys went off silently, not knowing what to make of it. After all, Toby knew the son – they had employed him at the farm. Why did the old woman keep saying he was bad and cruel? She must be at least a little mad to talk like that!

‘It must be a strange household,’ said Julian as they went to join the waiting girls. ‘Two butterfly men, both rather peculiar. One old witch-like woman, very peculiar. And a son who seems to terrify her out of her wits! I vote we don’t go there again.’

‘So do I,’ said Dick. ‘Hallo, you two – did we keep you waiting for long?’

‘You did rather,’ said Anne. ‘We were just about to send Timmy to look for you! We thought you might have been turned into mice, or something!’

The boys told the two girls about Mr Brent and the fifty pence and old Mrs Janes. ‘A funny household altogether,’ said Dick. ‘We think we’ll give it a miss now, however many rare butterflies we spot! I’m pretty certain that the one we found was a kind of fritillary, aren’t you, Julian?’

‘Yes, I was surprised Mr Brent didn’t say so,’ said Julian. ‘I have a feeling that Mr Gringle is the expert of the two. Mr Brent probably does the donkey-work – sees to the caterpillars and so on.’

They came to their camp at last, and Timmy at once went to the ‘larder’. But Anne shook her head. ‘No, Tim – it’s not nearly supper-time. Bad luck!’

‘What shall we do?’ asked Dick, flinging himself down on the heather. ‘It’s another heavenly evening!’

‘Yes – but I don’t much like the look of the sky over to the west tonight,’ said Julian. ‘See those clouds there coming up slowly against the wind? It looks like rain tomorrow to me!’

‘Blow!’ said George. ‘The weather might have lasted for just one week! Whatever shall we do if it pours? Sit in our tents all day, I suppose!’

‘Cheer up – we could go and see the caves,’ said Dick. ‘I know what we’ll do now! We’ll get out our portable radio and turn it on. If there’s some decent music, it will sound glorious up here!’

‘All right. But for goodness’ sake have it on softly,’ said Anne. ‘I loathe people who take radios out into the country with them, and switch them on loudly, so that it spoils the peace and quiet for everyone else. I could go and kick their radios to pieces!’

‘Gracious, Anne – you do sound fierce!’ said George, looking at her cousin in surprise.

‘You don’t know our quiet sister Anne quite as well as we do, George,’ said Julian, with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘She can be really fierce if she thinks anyone is spoiling things for others. I had to stop her once from going up to scold people at a picnic – they actually had a gramophone going full-pelt, in spite of the angry looks from people all round. I do believe she meant to take off the gramophone record and break it over somebody’s head!’

‘Oh, Julian! How can you say such a thing!’ said Anne. ‘I did feel like it – but I didn’t do it.’

‘All right, young Anne!’ said Julian affectionately and patted her head. Both he and Dick thought the world of their quiet, kind little sister and looked after her well. She smiled at them.

‘Well – let’s have some music, then,’ she said. ‘There’s the Pastoral Symphony on sometime this evening, I know, because I made a note of it. It would sound beautiful out here in this lovely countryside with that view spreading for miles in front of us. But softly, please.’

Julian fetched the little radio set and took it out of its waterproof case. He switched on, and a voice came loudly from the set. Julian lowered the volume to make it softer. ‘It’s the seven o’clock news,’ he said. ‘We’ll hear it, shall we?’

But it was almost the end of the news, and the voice soon stopped to give way to an announcer. Yes – it was going to be the Pastoral Symphony now. Soon the first notes came softly from the little radio, and it seemed to set the countryside around to music. The four settled down in the heather to listen, lying half-propped up to watch the changing colours of the view in front of them as the sun sank lower.

The bank of cloud on the horizon was higher now, and the sun would soon slip behind it, for it was coming up fast. What a pity!

And then, cutting across the music, came another sound – the sound of an aeroplane.

R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r-r!

It sounded so very loud that Dick and Julian leapt to their feet, and Timmy began to bark loudly.

‘Where is it?’ said Dick, puzzled. ‘It sounds so jolly near. I wonder if it’s Cousin Jeff’s!’

‘There it is – coming up over the back of the hill!’ said Julian, and as he spoke a small aeroplane appeared over the brow of the hill, and circled once before it flew down to the airfield.

The four children could plainly see the number painted underneath. ‘5–6–9,’ began Julian, and Dick gave a shout.

‘It’s Jeff’s plane! It is – that’s his number! Wave, everybody, wave!’

So they all waved madly, though they felt sure that Jeff wouldn’t see them, tucked away in their camp on the hillside. They watched the plane fly down to the airfield, circle round, and land neatly on the runway. It came to a stop.

Julian looked through his glasses and saw a small figure leap from the plane. ‘I bet it’s Jeff,’ he said. ‘Gosh – I do wish I had a plane to fly over the hills and far away!’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A stormy night

THE FIVE soon began to prepare for their evening meal and Timmy trotted about pretending to help, always hopeful of being allowed to carry a loaf of bread or piece of cold ham in his mouth. But he was never lucky!

As they sat eating their meal, Julian glanced uneasily at the western sky again. ‘The rain’s certainly coming,’ he said. ‘That cloud has covered half the sky now, and swallowed up the evening sun. I think we ought to put up the tents.’

‘Blow! I suppose we ought,’ said George.

‘And we’d better do it quickly,’ said Dick. ‘I distinctly felt a nasty cold wind just then – the first really cold air since we came here. We shall certainly want to roll up in our rugs tonight!’

‘Well, let’s get the things out from under the old gorse bush,’ said Julian. ‘It won’t take long to put up the tents if we all get to work.’

In three-quarters of an hour the tents were up, set nicely in the shelter of the giant gorse bush. ‘A good, business-like job,’ said Dick, pleased. ‘It would take a hurricane to blow the tents away – we’ll be quite all right here. Let’s pull up some more heather and pile it in the tents. We shall want our rugs to wrap ourselves in, not to lie on tonight, so we might as well make our beds as soft as possible.’

They piled heather into the tents, spread their anoraks there, too, and then looked at the sky. Yes, there was no doubt about it – there was rain coming and probably a storm! Still, it might clear tomorrow, and be as fine as ever. If it wasn’t they would go and explore the caves that Toby had told them about.

It was now almost dark and the children decided that they would all get into one tent and have the radio on again. They called Timmy, but he preferred to be outside.

They set the radio going – but almost immediately Timmy began to bark. George switched off at once.

‘That’s the bark he gives when somebody is coming,’ she said. ‘I wonder who it is?’

‘Toby, to say we’d better go to the farm for the night,’ guessed Dick.

‘Mr Gringle hunting for moths!’ said Anne with a giggle.

‘Old Mrs Janes looking for things to make spells with!’ said George.

Everyone laughed. ‘Idiot!’ said Dick. ‘Though I must say this looks a night for witches!’

Timmy went on barking, and Julian put his head out of the tent. ‘What’s up, Tim?’ he said. ‘Who’s coming?’

‘Wuff, wuff,’ said Timmy, not turning his head to Julian, but seeming to watch something or someone in the half-light.

‘It may be a hedgehog he’s seen,’ said George from inside the tent. ‘He always barks at them because he knows he can’t pick them up.’

‘Well – maybe you’re right,’ said Julian. ‘But I think I’ll just go out and get Timmy to take me to whatever it is he’s barking at. I feel I’d like to know. He obviously hears or sees something!’

He slid out of the tent opening and went to Timmy. ‘Come on, Tim,’ he said. ‘Who is it? What’s upsetting you?’

Timmy wagged his tail and ran in front of Julian. He obviously had no doubts about where he was going. Julian followed him, stumbling over the heather and wishing he had brought his torch, for it was now half-dark.

Timmy ran some way down the hill towards the airfield, then rounded a clump of birch trees and stopped. He barked loudly again. Julian saw a dark shadow moving there and called out.

‘Who’s there? Who is it?’

‘It’s only me – Mr Brent,’ said an annoyed voice, and Julian caught sight of a long stick with a shadowy net on the end. ‘I’ve come out to examine our honey-traps before the rain comes and washes away the moths feeding there.’

‘Oh,’ said Julian. ‘I might have thought of that when Timmy barked. Is Mr Gringle about, too?’

‘Yes – so if your dog barks again you’ll know it’s only us,’ said Mr Brent. ‘We’re often prowling around at night – this is just as good a hill for moths at night as it is for butterflies by day. Can’t you stop that dog barking at me? Really, he’s very badly trained.’

‘Shut up, Tim,’ ordered Julian, and Timmy obediently closed his mouth, but still stood stiffly, staring at the man in the darkness.

‘I’m going on to our next honey-trap,’ said the man. ‘So you can take that noisy dog back to wherever you are camping.’ Mr Brent began to move away, flashing a torch in front of him.

‘We’re just up the hill,’ said Julian. ‘About a hundred yards. Oh – you’ve got a torch, I see. I wish I’d brought mine.’

The man said nothing more, but went slowly on his way, the beam of his torch growing fainter. Julian began to climb back up the hill to the tents, but in the growing darkness it was not easy! He missed his way and went much too far to the right. Timmy was puzzled and went to him, tugging gently at his sleeve.

‘Am I going wrong?’ said Julian. ‘Blow! I’d soon get lost on this lonely hillside. Dick! George! Anne! Give a shout, will you? I don’t know where I am.’

But he had wandered so far off the path that the three didn’t hear him – and Timmy had to guide him for a good way before he saw the torches of the others flashing up above. He felt most relieved. He had no wish to be caught in a heavy rainstorm on the exposed side of Billycock Hill!

‘Is that you, Julian?’ called Anne’s anxious voice. ‘What a long time you’ve been! Did you get lost?’

‘Almost!’ said Julian. ‘Like an idiot I went without my torch – but Timmy here knew the way all right. I’m glad I’m back – it’s just beginning to rain!’

‘Who was Tim barking at?’ asked George.

‘One of the butterfly men – Mr Brent, the one Dick and I saw today,’ said Julian. ‘I just caught the glint of his dark glasses in the half-light, and saw the butterfly net he carried. He said Mr Gringle was out, too.’

‘But whatever for, with a storm coming?’ marvelled Anne. ‘All the moths would be well in hiding.’

‘They’ve come out to examine their moth-traps, as they call them,’ said Julian. ‘They spread sticky stuff like honey or something round the trunks of trees – and the moths fly down to it by the score. Then they come along and collect any they want to take back.’

‘I see – and I suppose Mr Brent was afraid the rain might wash away the clinging moths,’ said Dick. ‘Well, they’ll both be caught in the storm, that’s certain. Listen to the rain pelting down on the tent now!’

Timmy squeezed into the tent, not liking the sting of the heavy raindrops. He sat down by George and Anne.

‘You do take up a lot of room in a small tent, Tim,’ said George. ‘Can’t you make yourself a bit smaller?’

Timmy couldn’t. He was a big dog, and rather a sprawly one. He put his wet head on George’s knee and heaved a heavy sigh. George patted him.

‘Humbug!’ she said. ‘What are you sighing about? Because you’ve finished your bone? Because it’s raining and you can’t go and sit and bark at anything moving on the hill?’

‘What shall we do now?’ said Julian, setting his torch on the radio set, so that it more or less lit up the tent. ‘There’s nothing on the radio we want to hear.’

‘I’ve got a pack of cards somewhere,’ said George, much to everybody’s joy, and she found them and got them out. ‘Let’s have a game of some sort.’

It was rather difficult in the small tent, with Timmy sometimes getting up just when all the cards were neatly dealt, and upsetting the piles. The storm grew fiercer and the rain tried its best to lash its way through the canvas of the little tent.

Then Timmy began to bark again, startling everyone very much. He climbed over legs and knees and poked his head out of the tent opening, barking loudly.

‘Good gracious – you almost gave me a heart attack!’ said Dick, pulling him back. ‘You’ll get soaked out there, Tim. Come back – it’s only those mad mothmen out there picking moths off rain-soaked honey-traps. Don’t worry about them. They’re probably enjoying themselves enormously.’

But Timmy simply would NOT stop barking, and even growled when Julian tried to drag him into the tent.

‘Whatever’s up with him?’ said Julian, bewildered. ‘Oh, stop it, Timmy! You’re deafening us!’

‘Something’s upsetting him – something unusual,’ said George. ‘Listen – was that a yell?’

Everyone listened, but the rain was pelting down so hard that it was impossible to hear anything but the slashing rain and the wind.

‘Well, we can’t do much about it, whatever it is that’s upsetting Timmy,’ said Dick. ‘We can’t possibly go wandering about in this storm – we’d get soaked through and probably lost!’

Timmy was still barking, and George grew cross. ‘Timmy! Stop! Do you hear me? I won’t have it.’

It was so seldom that George was angry with him that Timmy turned in surprise. George pounced at his collar and dragged him forcibly into the tent. ‘Now – be QUIET!’ she commanded. ‘Whatever it is, we can’t do anything about it!’

Just then another noise rose above the howling of the wind and the torrents of rain, and the Five pricked up their ears at once, sitting absolutely still.

‘R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R! R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R!’

They all looked round at one another. ‘Aeroplanes!’ said Dick. ‘ Aeroplanes! In this weather, too. Whatever is going on?’

CHAPTER TWELVE

What happened in Billycock Caves

THE LITTLE company in the tent were amazed. Why should aeroplanes take off from the airfield in the middle of a stormy night?

‘For experiments in storms, perhaps?’ said Dick. ‘No – that would be rather unnecessary.’

‘Perhaps they were aeroplanes landing there, not leaving,’ suggested Anne.

‘Possibly – perhaps seeking the shelter of the airfield when they were caught in this storm,’ said Dick. But Julian shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This airfield is too far off the ordinary air-routes – nobody would bother about it; it’s so small for one thing – more a little experimental station than anything else. Any aeroplane in difficulties could easily go to a first-class airfield for shelter or help.’

‘I wonder if Jeff went up in one of the two we heard,’ said George.

Anne yawned. ‘What about bedding down?’ she said. ‘This tent is so hot and stuffy that I feel half-asleep.’

‘Yes – it’s getting late,’ said Julian, looking at his watch. ‘You two girls and Timmy can have this tent – it will save you going out into the rain. Fasten the flap after we’ve gone – and yell if you want anything.’

‘Right. Goodnight, Ju, goodnight, Dick,’ said the girls, and the boys scrambled out into the rain. Anne fastened the flap of the tent, and wrapped her rug round her. She burrowed into her heathery bed and made herself comfortable. George did the same.

‘Goodnight,’ said Anne, sleepily. ‘Keep Tim on your side. I can’t bear him on my legs, he’s so heavy.’

The Five slept soundly and awoke the next morning to a dismal scene of rain and dark clouds.

‘How disappointing!’ said Dick, peering out of his tent. ‘We ought to have listened to the weather forecast to see if it would clear today. What’s the time, Julian?’

‘Just gone eight,’ said Julian. ‘My word, we are sleepy these days! Well, it’s not raining so very hard now – let’s see if the girls are awake, and put on our anoraks and go and wash at the spring.’

They all had breakfast – not quite so merry as usual, because it was a bit of a crowd in the tent and not nearly so much fun as having it in the sunshine. Still, the day might clear, and then they could go down to see Toby at the farm.

‘I suppose we’d better go and explore those caves this morning,’ said Dick, after breakfast. ‘There’s nothing else to do, and I refuse to play cards all morning.’

‘We all refuse!’ said George. ‘Let’s put on our anoraks and see if we can find the caves.’

‘We can look at the map,’ said Julian. ‘It’s a large-scale one. There must be a road or lane to them – they are quite well-known. They’re probably round the hill – a bit lower down.’

‘Well, never mind – we’ll see if we can find them, and if we can’t it won’t matter. We shall have been for a walk!’ said Dick.

They set off in a fine drizzle, walking through the damp heather, Timmy leaping in front.

‘Everyone got torches?’ said Dick suddenly. ‘I’ve got mine. We’ll need them in the caves!’

Yes, everyone had a torch – except Timmy of course, and he, as Anne pointed out, had eyes that were far better for seeing in the dark than any torch could ever be!

They made their way down the hill and then veered off to the north side – and came suddenly upon a wide rather chalky path, where the heather had been cut well back.

‘This rather looks as if it led somewhere,’ said Julian, stopping.

‘It might lead to an old chalk quarry,’ said Dick, kicking some loose white lumps of chalk. ‘Like the one near Kirrin.’

‘Well, let’s follow it up and see,’ said George, and they went along it, kicking the lumps of chalk as they went. They rounded a corner and saw a notice.

TO BILLYCOCK CAVES
Warning
Keep only to the roped ways.
Beware of losing your way in the
unroped tunnels.

‘This sounds good,’ said Julian. ‘Let’s see – what did Toby tell us about the caves?’

‘They’re thousands of years old – they’ve got stalagmites and stalactites,’ said George.

‘Oh – I know what those are,’ said Anne. ‘They look like icicles hanging from the roof – while below, on the floor of the cave, other icicles seem to grow upwards to meet them!’

‘Yes – the roof ones are stalactites and the ground ones are stalagmites,’ said Dick.

‘I simply never can remember which is which,’ said Anne.

‘It’s easy!’ said Julian. ‘The stalactite icicles have to hold tight to the roof – and the stalagmite ones might some day join with the ones above them!’

The others laughed.

‘I shall never forget which are which now,’ said Anne.

The path they were following altered as they came near to the caves, and lost its chalky look. Just in front of the entrance the way was properly paved, and was no longer rough. The entrance was only about six feet high, and had over it a white board with two words painted very large in black.

BILLYCOCK CAVES

The warning they had read on the first notice they had come to was repeated on another one just inside the entrance. ‘Read it, Tim,’ said George, seeing him looking at it. ‘And keep close to us!’

They went right in, and had to switch on their torches at once. Timmy was amazed to see the walls around him glittering suddenly in the light of the four torches. He began to bark, and the noise echoed all around in a very weird manner.

Timmy didn’t like it, and he pressed close to George. She laughed. ‘Come on, silly. These are only caves. You’ve been in plenty in your life, Timmy! Goodness, don’t they feel cold! I’m glad of my anorak!’

They passed through one or two small and ordinary caves and then came to a magnificent one, full of what looked like gleaming icicles. Some hung down from the roof, others rose up from the ground. In some places the one below had reached to the one hanging down, so that they had joined, making it look as if the cave was held up by great shining pillars.

‘Oh!’ said Anne, catching her breath. ‘What a wonderful sight! How they gleam and shine!’

‘It reminds me of cathedrals I have seen,’ said Julian, looking up at the roof of the cave. ‘I don’t know why. All these finely wrought pillars . . . come along, let’s go into the next cave.’

The next one was smaller, but contained some splendid coloured ‘icicles’ that shone and gleamed in the light of the torches. ‘It’s like a cave in Fairyland,’ said Anne. ‘Full of rainbow colours!’

The following cave had no colour, but was of a dazzling white, walls, roof, floor and pillars. So many stalactites and stalagmites had joined that they almost formed a snow-white screen through which the children peered – only to see even more of the strange ‘icicles’.

They came to a threefold forking of the ways. The centre one was roped, but the other two tunnels were not. The children looked down the unroped tunnels, stretching away so dark and quiet, and shivered. How awful to go down one and lose the way, never to be found again, perhaps!

‘Let’s go down the roped way,’ said George. ‘Just to see where it leads to – more caves, probably.’

Timmy ran sniffing down one of the other ways, and George called him, ‘Tim! You’ll get lost! Come back.’

But Timmy didn’t come back. He ran off into the darkness and the others felt cross. ‘Blow him,’ said Dick. ‘What’s he after? TIM! TIM!’ The echoes took up the last word and sent it repeatedly up and down the passage.

Timmy barked in answer, and at once the place was full of weird barking, echoing everywhere and making Anne put her fingers to her ears.

‘Woof-oof-oof-oof !’ said the echoes, sounding as if a gang of dogs were barking madly in the caves. Then Timmy appeared in the light of their torches, looking extremely surprised at the enormous noise he had created with his barking.

‘I shall put you on the lead, Timmy,’ scolded George. ‘Keep to heel now. Surely you understand what that word means after all these years?’

Timmy did. He kept faithfully to heel as the little company went along a narrow, roped tunnel and came out into a succession of dazzling caves, all linked together by little passages or tunnels. They kept only to those that were roped. Many of them were not, and the Five longed to see where they led to, but were sensible enough not to try.

And then, as they were examining what looked like a frozen pool, which reflected the snowy roof above like a mirror, a curious noise came to their ears. They straightened themselves and listened.

It was a whistling sound, high-pitched and shrill, that filled the cave, and filled their eardrums, too, until they felt like bursting. It rose high, then died down – then rose again till the children were forced to put their hands to their heads – and died away.

Timmy couldn’t bear it. He barked frantically and ran round and round like a mad thing. And then the second noise began – a howling! A howling that seemed to be tossed to and fro, and grew louder as the echoes threw it about from cave to cave! Anne clutched Dick, terrified.

‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Quick, let’s go!’ And, led by an extremely scared Timmy, the Five raced pell-mell out of Billycock Caves as if a hundred dogs were after them!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A dreadful shock

THE FIVE stood panting outside the entrance of the caves, feeling decidedly sheepish at having run away from a noise.

‘Whew!’ said Julian, mopping his forehead. ‘That was decidedly weird. That whistling – it got inside my head. It was like a – like a police whistle gone mad or something. As for the howling . . . well.’

‘It was horrible,’ said Anne, looking quite pale. ‘Like wild animals. I’m not going into those caves again for anything. Let’s get back to the camp.’

They walked soberly down the chalk-strewn path that led away from the caves and made their way back to their camp. The rain had stopped now, and the clouds were beginning to break.

The Five sat down inside a tent, and discussed the matter. ‘We’ll ask Toby if it’s usual for noises like that to be heard,’ said Dick. ‘I wonder anyone ever visits the cave if it is infested with horrible whistles and screeches like that.’

‘All the same, we were a bit cowardly,’ said Julian, now feeling rather ashamed of himself.

‘Well, go back and do a bit of howling yourself,’ suggested George. ‘It may frighten the howler as much as his howling scared you.’

‘Nothing doing,’ said Julian promptly. ‘I’m not going in for any howling matches.’ He burrowed down under the rug for his field-glasses and slung them round his neck.

‘I’m going to have a squint at the airfield,’ he said. ‘Just to see if I can spot Cousin Jeff.’ He put the glasses to his eyes and focused them on the airfield below them. He gave a sudden exclamation.

‘There’s quite a lot going on at the airfield this morning!’ he said in surprise. ‘Dozens of people there! I wonder what’s up. There are quite a lot of planes, too – they must all have arrived this morning!’

Each of the others took a turn at looking through the glasses. Yes – Julian was right. There was certainly something going on at the airfield today. Men hurried about, and then came the noise of yet another aeroplane, which zoomed neatly down to the runway.

‘Gosh – another plane!’ said Dick. ‘Where did all the others come from? We never heard them.’

‘They must have arrived while we were in the caves,’ said Dick. ‘I wish we could ask Toby’s Cousin Jeff what all the excitement is about.’

‘We could go down to the farm after our lunch and see if he has heard anything,’ suggested Anne, and the others agreed.

‘Thank goodness the sun’s coming out again,’ said George, as a shaft of warm sunlight burst out from behind a cloud, and the sun sailed into a patch of blue sky. ‘The heather will soon dry now. Let’s have the news on – we may just catch the weather forecast. I don’t want to carry my anorak about if it’s going to clear up.’

They switched on the little radio set – but they had missed the weather news. ‘Blow!’ said Dick and raised his hand to switch off – and then he heard two words that stopped him. They were ‘Billycock Hill’! He left his hand suspended in the air and listened, full of surprise. The announcer’s voice came clearly to the four.

‘The aeroplanes stolen from Billycock Hill airfield were two valuable ones, into which had been incorporated new devices,’ said the voice from the radio. ‘It is possible that they were stolen because of these. We regret that it appears that two of our best pilots flew them away – Flight-Lieutenant Jeffrey Thomas and Flight-Lieutenant Ray Wells. No news has been received of either plane. Both disappeared during a storm over Billycock Hill during the night.’

There was a pause, and then the announcer went on to another item of news. Dick switched off the radio and looked blankly at the others. No one had a word to say at first.

‘To think that Jeff could do a thing like that – Jeff a traitor – flying off with a plane of ours to sell to an enemy!’ said Julian at last, voicing the thought of all the others.

‘We heard the planes go!’ said Dick. ‘Two of them. Gosh – we ought to go to the police and tell what we know. Not that it’s much. But, I say – fancy JEFF doing that! I liked him so much.’

‘So did I,’ said Anne, turning her head away.

‘So did Timmy,’ said George. ‘And he hardly ever makes a mistake in anyone.’

‘What will poor Toby do?’ said Dick. ‘He thought the world of Jeff.’

Timmy suddenly ran off a few yards and began barking – a welcoming bark this time. Julian looked to see who was coming. It was Toby!

He came up to them and sat down beside them. He looked pale and shocked, though he tried to smile at them.

‘I’ve got awful news,’ he said in a funny, croaking voice.

‘We know,’ said Dick. ‘We’ve just heard it on the radio. Oh, Toby – fancy – Jeff!’

To everyone’s horror Toby’s face crumpled up and tears poured down his cheeks. He made no attempt to wipe them away; indeed, he hardly seemed to know that they were there. Nobody knew what to do – except Timmy. Dear old Tim scrambled over Julian and most sympathetically licked Toby’s wet face, whining as he did so. Toby put his arm round the dog’s neck and began to speak.

‘It wasn’t Jeff! Jeff couldn’t have done such a thing. He couldn’t! You know he couldn’t, don’t you?’ He turned quite fiercely on the others as he spoke.

‘I can’t believe that he did,’ said Julian. ‘He seemed to me to be absolutely straight and trustworthy, even though I only met him that once.’

‘He was – well – a sort of hero to me,’ said Toby, beginning to mop his cheeks with his hanky, and staring in surprise to see it so damp. ‘Gosh, I’m a sissy to go on like this! But when the military police came to our farm this morning to ask questions about Jeff – he’s my dad’s nephew, you know – I couldn’t believe my ears. I was so furious with one idiot that I punched him – and Mother sent me out of the room.’

‘I suppose both Jeff and the other fellow have definitely gone?’ asked Julian. ‘No other pilots are missing, are they?’

‘No, I asked that,’ said Toby dismally. ‘Everyone answered roll-call at the camp this morning except Jeff and Ray. Ray is Jeff’s best friend, you know.’

‘It looks bad,’ said Dick, after a long pause.

‘But it’s not true that Jeff’s a traitor!’ cried Toby, up in arms again. ‘Are you suggesting that he is?’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Dick. ‘Don’t be an ass. I don’t . . .’ Then he stopped as Timmy ran off and barked fiercely. Now who was coming?

A deep voice called to Timmy. ‘Down, boy, down! Where are your friends?’

Julian scrambled up and saw two military policemen standing facing the excited Timmy. ‘Here, Tim,’ called Julian. ‘It’s all right. Friends!’

Timmy ran to him and the two burly men came up. ‘You the children camping on this hill?’ asked the first one. ‘Well, we want to ask you a few questions about last night. You were here then, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. We know what you’ve come about, too,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll tell you all we know – but we’re pretty certain that Flight-Lieutenant Thomas hadn’t anything to do with it.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said the man. ‘Well, sit down, all of you, and we’ll have a little talk.’

Soon they were sitting down in the heather, while Julian told all they knew, which wasn’t much – just the sound of the two aeroplanes flying off together.

‘And you heard nothing suspicious last night – nothing at all?’ asked the first man.

‘Nothing,’ said Julian.

‘Nobody about at all, I suppose?’ asked the second man, looking up from his notebook in which he had been writing.

‘Oh – well, yes – there were people about,’ said Julian, suddenly remembering the butterfly man, Mr Brent, who had said that he and Mr Gringle were out looking at their moth-traps.

The first policeman asked some rapid questions and Julian and the others told them what little they knew – though Julian knew the most, of course.

‘You’re sure it was Mr Brent you saw?’ asked the policeman.

‘Well – he said he was,’ said Julian. ‘And he carried a butterfly net on his shoulder – and he wore the same dark glasses I saw him wearing earlier. Of course, it was pretty dark – but I honestly think it was Mr Brent. I didn’t see or hear Mr Gringle. Mr Brent said he was some way off. They’re both mad on moth and butterfly hunting.’

‘I see,’ said the policeman, and the second one shut his notebook. ‘Thanks very much. I think we’ll just go and pay a call on these – er – what do you call them – butterfly men? Where do they hang out?’

The children offered to guide them on their way, and the whole company went with the two burly men almost to the butterfly farm.

‘Well, thanks a lot,’ said the first policeman as they came near the tumbledown cottage. ‘We’ll go on alone, now. You get back to your camp.’

‘Will you send us word as soon as you know it wasn’t my Cousin Jeff ?’ asked Toby, forlornly. ‘He’ll be getting in touch with you, I know, as soon as he hears what he’s suspected of.’

‘It’s bad luck on you, son – he’s your cousin, isn’t he?’ said the big policeman kindly. ‘But you’ll have to make up your mind to it – it was Jeff Thomas all right that flew off in one of those aeroplanes last night. There isn’t a doubt of it!’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mr Gringle is annoyed

THE MILITARY police went off down the hill to the butterfly farm, and the five children stood disconsolately watching them, with Timmy staring, too, tail well down. He didn’t quite know what had happened but he was sure it was something dreadful . . .

‘Well – it’s no good waiting about here, I suppose,’ said Julian. ‘I bet the police won’t get anything useful out of the butterfly men – they wouldn’t have noticed anything when they were out last night, except their precious moths!’

They were just turning away when they heard someone screaming in a high voice, and they stopped to listen in surprise. ‘It must be old Mrs Janes,’ said Dick. ‘What’s up with her?’

‘We’d better see,’ said Julian, and he and the others, with Timmy at their heels, went quickly down to the cottage. They heard the voices of the two policemen as they came near.

‘Now, now, old lady – don’t take on so!’ one was saying in a kindly voice. ‘We’ve only come to ask a few questions.’

‘Go away, go away!’ screamed the old woman, and actually battered at the men with her little bony hands. ‘Why are you here? Go away, I tell you!’

‘Now listen, Ma – don’t take on so,’ said the other man patiently. ‘We want to talk to Mr Gringle and Mr Brent – are they here?’

‘Who? Who did you say? Oh, them! They’re out with their nets,’ mumbled the old woman. ‘I’m all alone here, and I’m scared of strangers. You go away.’

‘Listen,’ said one policeman. ‘Were Mr Gringle and Mr Brent out on the hills last night?’

‘I’m in my bed at night,’ she answered. ‘How would I know? You go away and leave me in peace.’

The policemen looked at one another, and shook their heads. It was clearly quite useless to find out anything from this frightened old woman.

‘Well, we’ll go, Ma,’ said one, patting her shoulder gently. ‘Sorry we’ve scared you – there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

They turned away and came back up the slope of the hill, seeing the children standing silently there. ‘We heard old Mrs Janes screaming,’ said Julian. ‘So we came to see what was happening.’

‘The butterfly men, as you call them, are out with their nets,’ said one policeman. ‘A funny life, I must say – catching insects and looking after their eggs and caterpillars. Well – I don’t suppose they know anything about last night’s job. Not that there’s anything to know! Two pilots flew off with the planes, we know who they were – and that’s that!’

‘Well, one was NOT my Cousin Jeff,’ said Toby, fiercely. The men shrugged their shoulders and went off together.

The five children went off up the hill again, very silent. ‘I think we’d better have something to eat,’ said Julian at last. ‘We’ve had no lunch – and it’s long past our usual time. Toby, stay and have some with us.’

‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ said Toby. ‘Not a thing!’

‘Let’s get out what we’ve got,’ said Julian, and the girls and Timmy went to the little ‘larder’. Nobody really felt like eating – but when the food was there, in front of them, they found that they were quite hungry – except poor Toby, who sat forlorn and pale-faced, trying to chew through a sandwich made for him by Anne, but not making a very good job of it!

Timmy began to bark in the middle of the meal, and everyone looked to see who was coming now. Julian thought he saw a movement some way down the hill, and took his field-glasses and put them to his eyes.

‘I think it’s Mr Gringle,’ he said. ‘I can see his net too. He’s out butterflying, I suppose.’

‘Let’s shout to him,’ said Dick. ‘We can tell him why the police went to call at his cottage this morning, when he wasn’t there. He’ll never get any sense out of old Mrs Janes.’

Julian cooeed, and there came an answering call. ‘He’s coming up,’ said Dick. Timmy ran to meet him, and soon the man was just below them, panting as he made his way up the steep slope.

‘I hoped I’d see you,’ he said. ‘I want you to look out for some special moths for me – another day-flying one like the six-spot burnet you saw the other day. It’s the cinnabar moth – it’s got rich crimson underwings, and – and—’

‘Yes – I know that one,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll look out for it. We just wanted to tell you that two military policemen went to your cottage a little while ago to ask you some questions about last night – and as we’re sure old Mrs Janes won’t be able to explain anything to you, we thought we’d better tell you ourselves.’

Mr Gringle looked absolutely blank and bewildered. ‘But – but why on earth should military policemen come to our cottage?’ he said at last.

‘For nothing much,’ said Julian. ‘Only to ask you if you saw anything suspicious when you were out looking at your moth-traps last night – you see, two aeroplanes were—’

Mr Gringle interrupted in a most surprised voice. ‘But – but, dear boy, I wasn’t out at all last night! It wouldn’t have been a bit of good looking for moths anywhere, on our moth-traps or anywhere else, on a night like that.’

‘Well,’ said Julian, also surprised, ‘I saw your friend Mr Brent, and he said you were both out looking at your moth-traps.’

Mr Gringle stared at Julian as if he were mad, and his mouth fell open in amazement. ‘Mr Brent!’ he said at last. ‘But Peter – that’s Mr Brent – was at home with me! We were busy writing up our notes together.’

There was a silence after this surprising statement. Julian frowned. What was all this? Was Mr Gringle trying to hide the fact that he and his friend had been out on the hills the night before?

‘Well – I certainly saw Mr Brent,’ said Julian at last. ‘It was very dark, I admit – but I’m sure I saw his butterfly net – and his dark glasses.’

‘He doesn’t wear dark glasses,’ said Mr Gringle, still more astonished. ‘What is this tale? Is it a joke of some sort? If you can’t talk better sense than this, I’m going.’

‘Wait!’ said Dick, something else occurring to him. ‘You say that Mr Brent doesn’t wear dark glasses – then who was the man that took the butterfly from us yesterday evening about six o’clock and gave us fifty pence? He said he was Mr Brent, your friend!’

‘This is all nonsense!’ said Mr Gringle, getting up angrily. ‘Wasting my time on a poor joke of this kind! Brent doesn’t wear dark glasses, I tell you – and he wasn’t at home at six o’clock yesterday – we’d been to buy some tackle in the next town. He was with me, not at the cottage. You couldn’t possibly have seen him! What do you mean by all this nonsense – dark glasses, fifty pence for a butterfly – and seeing Brent on the hillside last night when he didn’t stir out of the house!’

He was now standing up, looking very fierce, his brilliant eyes flashing behind his thick glasses. ‘Well,’ said Julian, ‘all this is extremely puzzling, and . . .’

‘Puzzling! You’re nothing but a pack of nitwitted, ill-mannered children!’ suddenly roared Mr Gringle, quite losing his temper. Timmy gave a warning growl, and stood up – he didn’t allow anyone to rave at his friends!

Mr Gringle went off angrily, trampling down the heather as if he were trampling down the children. They heard him muttering to himself as he went off. They looked at one another in really great surprise.

‘Well – I simply don’t know what to make of all this!’ said Julian helplessly. ‘Was I dreaming last night? No – I did see that fellow – half-see him, anyway – and he did say he was Mr Brent, and that Gringle was somewhere near. But – if he wasn’t Brent, who was he? And what was he doing on a stormy night, hunting moths?’

Nobody could make even a guess. Toby spoke first.

‘Perhaps the man you saw was mixed up in the stealing of those aeroplanes – you never know?’

‘Impossible, Toby!’ said Julian. ‘That’s too far-fetched. I can’t say that I understand it at all – but honestly, he didn’t seem like a man who could steal an aeroplane!’

‘Who was the man that gave us the fifty pence then, if he wasn’t Brent?’ said Dick, puzzled.

‘Could it have been Mrs Janes’s son, pretending he was Brent – just for a silly joke?’ said George.

‘What was he like?’ asked Toby at once. ‘I know Will Janes – I told you he’s often been to our farm. We don’t have him now because he drinks so much and he isn’t reliable any more. What was this man Brent like – I’d soon know if he was Will Janes pretending to be someone else!’

‘He was small and thin, with dark glasses,’ began Dick – and Toby interrupted him at once.

‘Then it wasn’t Will Janes! He’s tall and burly – with a thick neck and, anyway, he doesn’t wear dark glasses – or any glasses at all!’

‘Then who in the world was it? And why did he pretend to be Brent, Gringle’s friend?’ wondered Dick. Everyone frowned and puzzled over the whole thing – but nobody could think of a sensible reason for anyone wanting to pretend to be Mr Brent!

‘Well – for goodness’ sake, let’s get on with our meal,’ said George at last. ‘We stopped in the middle of it – and the rest is still waiting for us. Have another ham sandwich, Julian?’

They all munched in silence, thinking hard. Toby sighed. ‘I don’t really feel that this mix-up with the butterfly men and somebody else, whoever he is, has anything to do with the stealing of the aeroplanes. I wish it had!’

‘All the same – it wants looking into,’ said Dick seriously. ‘And what’s more – I vote we keep our eyes and ears open. Something’s going on at the butterfly farm!’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

More news – and a night trip

THE FIVE spent most of the afternoon talking about the mystery of the man who had pretended to be Mr Brent. It really was difficult to understand why anyone should do such a foolish thing, especially as it could be so easily found out.

‘I can only think there’s a madman about who has got it into his head that he is Mr Brent!’ said Dick at last. ‘No wonder he didn’t seem to recognise that butterfly we took him!’

‘Do you know what I think would be a good idea?’ suddenly said George. ‘Why don’t we slip down to the butterfly farm tonight, when it’s getting dark, and see if the false Mr Brent is there, and the real one – whom we’ve never seen, by the way – and Mr Gringle?’

‘Hm – yes – quite an idea,’ said Julian, seriously. ‘But only Dick and I will go – not you or Anne.’

‘I’ll come, too,’ said Toby.

‘Right,’ said Julian. ‘But we’ll have to be jolly careful – because if there is something funny going on down there, we don’t want to be caught. It wouldn’t be at all pleasant, I fear!’

‘Take Timmy with you,’ said George at once.

‘No. He might bark or something,’ said Dick. ‘We’ll be all right, George. Gracious – we’ve had enough adventures by now to teach us how to go about things like this! Ha – I shall look forward to tonight!’

Everyone suddenly felt much more cheerful, even Toby. He managed a very small smile, and stood up to brush the crumbs off his jersey.

‘I’m going now,’ he said. ‘I’ve a lot of farm jobs to do this afternoon – I’ll meet you at the big oak tree behind the butterfly farm – did you notice it?’

‘Yes – an enormous one,’ said Julian. ‘Right. Be there at – say – ten o’clock. No, eleven – it will be dark by then, or almost.’

‘So long!’ said Toby and plunged down the hill, accompanied for a little way by Timmy.

‘Well – I feel much better now we’ve made a definite plan,’ said Dick. ‘My goodness, it’s half past five already! Don’t suggest tea, George – we had our lunch so late!’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ said George. ‘We’ll miss it out and have a really good supper later on. And don’t let’s forget to listen to the news at six o’clock – there might be something about Jeff and his friend Ray – and the aeroplanes.’

So, just before six o’clock, they switched on the little radio set, and listened intently for the news. It came at last – and almost the first piece was about the stolen aeroplanes. The children listened, holding their breath, bending close to the set.

‘The two aeroplanes stolen from Billycock airfield last night, flown away by Flight-Lieutenant Jeffrey Thomas and Flight-Lieutenant Ray Wells, have been found. Both planes apparently crashed into the sea, but were seen, and there is a chance of their being salvaged. The pilots were not found, and are presumed to have been drowned. At Edinburgh this afternoon there was a grand rally of . . .’

Julian switched off the news and looked at the others soberly. ‘Well – that’s that! Crashed, both of them! That was because of the storm, I suppose. Well, at least no enemy will be able to get hold of the new devices that were incorporated in the planes.’

‘But – that means Toby’s cousin is drowned – or killed,’ said Anne, her face very white.

‘Yes. But remember, if he flew away in that plane, he was a traitor,’ said Dick gravely.

‘But Toby’s cousin didn’t seem like a traitor,’ said George. ‘He seemed so – well, so very honest, and I can’t say anything finer than that. I feel as if I shall never trust my judgment of anyone again. I liked him so very much.’

‘So did I,’ said Dick, frowning. ‘Well, these things happen – but I just wish it hadn’t been Toby’s cousin. He was such a hero to him. I don’t feel as if Toby will ever be quite the same after this – it’s something so absolutely beastly!’

Nobody said anything for a little while. They were all profoundly shocked – not only by the idea of Cousin Jeff being a traitor, but also by the news that he had been drowned. It seemed such a horrible end to come to that bright-eyed smiling young airman they had joked with only the other day.

‘Do you think we ought to pack up and go home?’ said Anne. ‘I mean – won’t it be awkward for the Thomases to have us hanging round when they must feel shocked and unhappy?’

‘No, we don’t need to bother them much at the farm,’ said Julian. ‘And I don’t think we can desert old Toby at the moment. It will help him to have friends around, you know.’

‘Yes. You’re right,’ said Dick. ‘This is the sort of time to have good friends – poor old Toby. He’ll be knocked out by this last piece of news.’

‘Will he be waiting for you at the old oak tree tonight, do you think?’ asked George.

‘Don’t know,’ said Julian. ‘It doesn’t matter if he’s not there, anyway – Dick and I can do all the snooping round that is necessary. And it will take our minds off this shock a bit – to try and solve the mystery down at the butterfly farm!’

They went for a walk round the hill, with Timmy leaping over the heather in delight. He couldn’t understand the lack of laughter and the unusual solemnity shown by his four friends, and he was pleased to be able to forget any troubles and sniff for rabbits.

They had their suppers at eight o’clock and then turned on the radio to listen to a programme. ‘We’ll hear the news at nine,’ said Dick. ‘Just in case there might be any more.’

But the nine o’clock news only repeated what had been said about the two planes in the six o’clock broadcast, and not a word more. Dick switched off and gazed down at the airfield below.

There were still quite a lot of planes there, though some of them had taken off and flown away during the day. Julian trained his field-glasses on the field.

‘Not so many men scurrying about now,’ he said. ‘Things are quietening down. My word – what a shock it must have been for everyone there last night, to hear the planes revved up, and then flown away! They must have been amazed!’

‘Maybe they didn’t hear them go, in the storm,’ said George.

‘They must have,’ said Julian. ‘ We heard them up here. Well, what about you girls turning in? Dick and I don’t want to, in case we fall off to sleep – we’ve got to slip away about half past ten or we shan’t be down at the oak tree at eleven.’

‘I wish you’d take Timmy with you,’ said George uneasily. ‘I don’t like the butterfly farm – or the witch-like old woman there – or the man you met with dark glasses who wasn’t Mr Brent, or the son you haven’t seen.’

‘Don’t be an ass, George,’ said Julian. ‘We shall be back by twelve, I expect – and Timmy is sure to bark in welcome, so you’ll know we’re safe.’

The girls wouldn’t go to their tent to sleep, so they all sat and talked, and watched the sun slip behind the clear horizon. The weather was now perfect again, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was difficult to imagine the sweeping rain and howling wind of last night’s storm.

‘Well,’ said Julian at last, looking at his watch. ‘Time we went. Timmy, look after the girls as usual.’

‘Woof,’ said Timmy, understanding perfectly.

‘And you look after yourselves,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll come down a little way with you – it’s such a lovely evening.’

They all set off together, and the girls went halfway to the butterfly farm and then turned back with Timmy. ‘Well, Tim – mind you bark at twelve, when they come back,’ said Anne. ‘Though somehow I think that both George and I will still be awake!’

The two boys went on down the hill and round to the right across towards the butterfly farm. It was almost dark now, though the June night was very clear and bright. ‘Better be careful we’re not seen,’ muttered Julian. ‘It’s such a clear night.’

They made their way to the big old oak tree that stood at the back of the butterfly farm. Toby was not there – but in about two minutes they heard a slight rustling noise, and saw Toby, panting a little, as if he had been hurrying. Then he was close beside them.

‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ he whispered. ‘I say – did you hear the six o’clock news?’

‘Yes – we were awfully sorry about it,’ said Julian.

‘Well – as I still don’t believe that Cousin Jeff stole the aeroplanes with Ray Wells, but that somebody else did, I wasn’t any more upset than before,’ said Toby. ‘If Jeff didn’t steal the plane, he wasn’t in it when it crashed, so he’s not drowned. See?’

‘Yes. I see,’ said Julian, glad that Toby had taken the news in that way, but convinced himself that there wasn’t really much hope.

‘What are your plans?’ whispered Toby. ‘There are lights in the cottage windows – and I don’t think any curtains are pulled. We could go and peep into each one and see exactly who is there!’

‘Good idea,’ said Julian. ‘Come on – and, for goodness’ sake, don’t make a noise. Single file, of course. I’ll lead the way.’

And silently and slowly they went round the oak tree and down to the tumbledown cottage. What would they see there, when they looked through those lit windows?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Looking through windows

THE THREE tiptoed quietly up to the cottage. ‘Don’t go too near when you look in,’ whispered Julian. ‘Keep a little distance away. We shall be able to see who is in the rooms, but they mustn’t be able to see us outside. I sincerely hope they won’t!’

‘Look in the downstairs rooms,’ said Dick. ‘See, that’s the kitchen window over there. Old Mrs Janes may be there, if she’s still up.’

They crept to the uncurtained window. The room was lit by only a candle, and was full of shadows. The boys gazed in.

Old Mrs Janes was there, sitting up in a brown rocking-chair, clad in a dirty dressing-gown. She rocked herself to and fro, and although the boys could not see her face, they sensed that the old woman was frightened and unhappy. Her head was sunk on her chest, and when she put her wispy hair back from her face, her hand shook.

‘She’s no witch, poor old thing!’ whispered Dick, feeling quite sad to see her rocking to and fro all by herself so late at night. ‘She’s just a poor frightened old woman.’

‘Why is she up so late?’ wondered Julian. ‘She must be waiting for someone.’

‘Yes. She might be. We’d better look out then,’ said Toby at once, looking behind him as if he expected to see someone creeping up.

‘Now let’s go round to the front,’ said Dick. So they tiptoed there, and saw another lit window – much more brightly lit than the kitchen window had been. They kept a little way from the pane, afraid of being seen. They looked in and saw two men there, sitting at a table, poring over some papers.

‘Mr Gringle!’ said Julian, in a low voice. ‘No doubt about that – and the other one must be his friend, Mr Brent, I suppose. Certainly he isn’t wearing dark glasses, as that man was we gave the butterfly to and who gave us fifty pence. He isn’t a bit like him!’

They all looked intently at the friend. He was a perfectly ordinary man, with a small moustache, dark hair and a rather big nose. Not in the least like the ‘Mr Brent’ they had seen the day before.

‘What are they doing?’ whispered Toby.

‘It looks as if they’re making lists of something – probably making out bills for their customers,’ said Julian. ‘Anyway – I must say they look perfectly ordinary sitting there, doing a perfectly ordinary job. I think Mr Gringle was speaking the truth when he said that it wasn’t Mr Brent who gave us the fifty pence and it certainly wasn’t him either that I saw on the hillside last night with a butterfly net.’

‘Then who was it?’ asked Dick, pulling the others right away from the window, in order to talk more easily. ‘And why did he carry the butterfly net and tell that lie about moth-traps? Why was he on the hill, the night the planes were stolen?’

‘Yes – why was he? I’d like to ask him that!’ said Toby in too loud a voice. The others nudged him at once, and he spoke more softly. ‘Something funny was going on last night – something people don’t know anything about. I’d like to find that phony Mr Brent you met on the hillside, Julian!’

‘Well, maybe we shall,’ said Julian. ‘Now – any other window lit? Yes – one up there, under the roof. Who’s there, I wonder?’

‘Perhaps it’s Mrs Janes’s son,’ said Dick. ‘It would be just like him to take one of the three bedrooms and make her sleep downstairs in the old rocking-chair! I expect the other two little rooms up there are used by the butterfly men.’

‘How can we see into the lit room?’ wondered Toby. ‘Look – if we got up in that tree there, we’d see in.’

‘There’s an easier way!’ said Julian, switching his torch on and off very quickly, giving the others just half a second to see a ladder leaning against a nearby wood-shed.

‘Good – yes, that would be much easier,’ said Dick. ‘But we’ll have to be jolly quiet. Whoever is in there would come to the window at once if he so much as heard the top of the ladder grating against the window-ledge!’

‘Well, we’ll manage it all right,’ said Julian. ‘The window isn’t very high, and the ladder isn’t very heavy. Between us we can place it very gently against the wall without disturbing anyone!’

The ladder was certainly quite light. The boys found no difficulty in carrying it slowly and carefully across to the cottage. They placed it against the wall without a sound.

‘I’ll go up,’ whispered Julian. ‘Hold the ladder steady – and for goodness’ sake keep a lookout! Give me a signal if you hear anything at all, because I don’t want to be trapped at the top of the ladder!’

The others held the sides as he climbed the rather rickety rungs. He came to the lit window and very cautiously and slowly lifted his head until he could see right into the room.

It was lit by a candle, a very small and untidy room, poorly furnished. A man sat on the bed there, a big hulking man, with broad shoulders and a neck like a bull. Julian gazed at him – yes, that must be Mrs Janes’s son, who, she said, was so unkind to her. Julian remembered the old mumbling voice saying that her son was cruel. ‘He hits me. He twists my arm!’ Yes, the man on the bed could be a nasty bully, no doubt about that.

He was reading a newspaper close to the candle.

As Julian looked at him, he pulled out a big watch from his pocket and stared at it, muttering something that Julian couldn’t hear. He stood up, and the boy was so afraid that he might come to the window, that he slithered down the ladder as quickly as possible.

‘The son’s in there,’ he whispered to the others. ‘I was afraid he was coming to the window to look out; that’s why I slid down so quickly. Blow! I’ve got a splinter in the palm of my hand doing that! Toby – could you creep up to the top in a minute or two and look in – just to make sure I’m right, and that it is Will Janes, the old woman’s son?’

Toby went up the ladder as soon as they were certain that Will Janes was not going to look out. He came down almost at once.

‘Yes – that’s Will – but, my word, he has changed!’ whispered Toby. ‘He looks a brute now – and yet he was a kind decent fellow not so long ago. Mother said he’d fallen in with some bad men, and had taken to drinking – so I suppose he’s quite different now.’

‘He looked at his watch as if he was expecting someone,’ said Julian. ‘I wonder – now, I wonder – if the man who paraded about the hillside last night with a net is coming here tonight? I must say I’d like to get a good look at him. He can’t be up to any good.’

‘Well – let’s hide somewhere and wait,’ suggested Toby. ‘Nobody knows I’ve slipped out to be with you, so I shan’t be missed. Anyway, Mother wouldn’t mind if she knew I was on a night trip with you two!’

‘We’ll hide in that barn over there,’ said Julian, and, on tiptoe again, they crossed to an old ruined barn, whose roof was partly off, and whose walls were falling in. It smelt dirty and there seemed no clean place to sit in, but at last Julian pulled out some dusty sacks and laid them in a corner and they sat there waiting in the dark.

‘Pooh!’ said Dick. ‘What a horrible smell in here – old rotting potatoes, or something. I wish we’d chosen somewhere else.’

‘Sh!’ said Julian suddenly, giving him a nudge that made him jump. ‘I can hear something.’

They all sat silent and listened. They could certainly hear something – yes – quiet footsteps, very quiet – made by rubber-soled shoes. The soft sounds passed by the barn, and they could no longer hear them. Then came a soft, low whistle.

Julian stood up and looked through the broken barn window. ‘I think there are two men standing below Will Janes’s bedroom,’ he whispered. ‘They must be the men he was waiting for. He’ll be coming down. I hope to goodness they don’t come into this barn to talk!’

This was a horrible thought, but there was no chance of going anywhere else, because at that moment the front door opened and Will Janes came out. Julian, still looking through the broken pane, could see him dimly outlined in the light that came from Mr Gringle’s front window.

The three men went off very quietly round the cottage. ‘Come on,’ said Julian. ‘Let’s shadow them. We might hear something to explain what’s up.’

‘What’s the time?’ asked Dick. ‘I hope the girls won’t start worrying about us. It must be gone twelve by now.’

‘Yes. It is,’ said Julian, looking at the luminous hands of his watch. ‘It can’t be helped. They’ll guess we’re on to something!’

They crept after the three men, who went to a clump of trees on the other side of the glasshouses. There they began to talk, but in such low tones that the three boys could hear nothing but the murmur of the voices.

Then one man raised his voice. It was Will Janes – Toby recognised it at once and told the others. ‘It’s Will. He’s furious about something. He always loses his temper when he thinks people have treated him badly in any way – and it sounds as if he thinks those two men have.’

The two men tried to quiet him, but he would not be pacified. ‘I want my money!’ the boys heard him say. ‘I helped you, didn’t I, I hid you here, didn’t I, till the job was done. Then give me my money!’

His voice rose almost to a shout, and the two men with him grew frightened. Exactly what happened next the boys never knew, but quite suddenly there was the sound of a blow and a fall – then another blow and a fall – Will Janes laughed. It was not a nice laugh.

In a few seconds there came an anxious voice from the window of the room where Mr Gringle and his friend were at work. ‘Who’s there? What’s happening?’

CRASH! That was the sound of breaking glass! Will Janes had picked up a big stone and flung it at the nearby glasshouse. It made the three boys almost jump out of their skins.

‘It’s all right! I came out to see who was prowling about!’ shouted Will Janes. ‘And whoever it was has broken some of the glass in your butterfly house. I’ve been out here shouting, trying to catch him.’

He came blundering towards the house – and then, as luck would have it, his torch picked out the three crouching boys. He gave a yell!

‘Who’s this? Here they are, kids who’ve been trying to smash the glass! Catch them – that’s right – I’ve got two of them – you catch the third!’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Quite a lot happens

THINGS THEN happened so quickly that, to their utter amazement, the three boys found themselves captives quite unable to escape.

Big Will Janes had hold of both Dick and Toby – and he was so strong, and held them in such a vice-like grip, one in each hand, that it was hopeless to try to get away.

Julian had run straight into Mr Gringle and Mr Brent, and the men had captured him between them. They were very angry.

‘What do you mean by coming here and snooping around, smashing our glasshouses!’ yelled Mr Gringle, shaking Julian in his rage. ‘We shall lose all our butterflies through that broken pane!’

‘Let me go. We didn’t break your glass,’ shouted Julian.

‘He did! I saw him!’ shouted Will Janes.

‘You didn’t!’ cried Toby. ‘Let me go, Will. I’m Toby Thomas, from Billycock Farm. You let me go or my father will have something to say!’

‘Oho – so it’s Toby Thomas, is it?’ said Will in a sneering voice. ‘Toby Thomas, whose father won’t employ Will Janes now because he turns his nose up at him. You wait till I tell the police tomorrow what I’ve caught you doing – I’ll say you’re the kids that have been taking our hens!’

Will dragged the angry boys over to a shed, calling out to the other two men. ‘Bring them here. Chuck them in and we’ll lock the door and let them cool off till tomorrow morning!’

Julian struggled valiantly against the two men, but short of kicking them viciously there was nothing he could do to escape – and he didn’t really want to harm them. It was all a mistake!

And then – oh, joy – there came a sound that made Julian’s heart leap – the bark of a dog!

‘Timmy! It’s Timmy!’ yelled Julian to the others. ‘Call him! He’ll soon make Janes drop you!’

‘Tim, Tim!’ shouted Dick, and Timmy ran to him at once, and began to growl so ferociously that Will Janes stopped dragging the boys to the shed.

‘Set us free or he’ll spring at you,’ warned Dick. Timmy growled again, and nipped Will’s ankle just to let him know he had teeth. Will let both boys go, and they staggered away from him in relief. Then Timmy ran to Julian – but Mr Gringle and Mr Brent had already heard his fierce growls and did not wait for any more! They gave Julian a shove away from them, and retreated into the cottage.

Will Janes also went into the cottage and lumbered up the stairs. The boys saw his figure outlined against the candlelight.

‘Well, thank goodness he didn’t go and scare his poor old mother,’ said Julian, shaking his clothes straight. They had been twisted and pulled in the struggle. ‘We’d better go and see if Will knocked those two men out – gracious, what a night! Good old Timmy – you just came in time!’

‘I bet the girls sent him after us when twelve o’clock came,’ said Dick. ‘He’d smell our tracks easily. Dear old Tim. Now, go carefully – it’s about here that Will floored those two men, whoever they were.’

But there was no sign of them at all. They must have got up from the ground very quickly and made themselves scarce. ‘They went while the going was good!’ said Toby grimly. ‘What do we do next?’

‘Get back to the camp,’ said Julian. ‘We’re really not much wiser now than when we came – except that we know that Gringle and Brent are butterfly men, and that Janes is a bad lot and in with those two fellows he knocked out . . .’

‘And that he helped them in some way, and hid them here – and hasn’t been paid,’ finished Dick. ‘But how did he help them and why?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Julian. ‘I can’t think any more tonight – my mind just won’t work. Go back home, Toby. We’ll talk it all out tomorrow.’

Toby went off to the farm, puzzled and excited. What an evening! What would Cousin Jeff say when he told him – but no, he couldn’t tell him. People said he had gone off in that plane, and that he was now at the bottom of the sea.

‘But I won’t believe it,’ thought the tired boy, stoutly. ‘I will – not – believe it!’

The girls were most relieved to hear the boys and Timmy coming back. ‘What’s happened? Why are you so late?’ said George. ‘Timmy found you all right, of course?’

‘Couldn’t have come at a better moment,’ said Julian, grinning in the light of George’s torch. ‘I suppose you sent him after us?’

‘We did,’ said George. ‘He wanted to go, anyway. He kept whining and whining as if you needed help – so we sent him off.’

‘And we did need help!’ said Dick, flinging himself down in the heather. ‘Listen to our tale!’

He and Julian told it, and the girls listened, astonished. ‘What has been going on down there?’ said George, puzzled. ‘What has Will Janes been up to with those fellows? How can we find out?’

‘He won’t talk,’ said Julian. ‘Nobody can make him, either. But I think maybe if we went down tomorrow morning and found that he’d gone out, we might persuade old Mrs Janes to tell us a few secrets.’

‘Yes – that’s a good idea,’ said George. ‘She must know what her son has been up to – especially if he has been hiding people there. She would have to feed them of course. Yes – old Mrs Janes would tell you – if she could!’

‘But now,’ said Julian, snuggling down in the heather on his rug, ‘now, you two gabblers, I want to go to sleep. Goodnight!’

‘Well! Who’s been doing the gabbling!’ said George. ‘We have hardly been able to get a word in! Come on, Anne – we can go to sleep all right now. I wonder if Toby’s home safely, and fast asleep in bed!’

Yes, Toby was home, but he wasn’t asleep! He was still brooding over his Cousin Jeff. If only he could do something – but he couldn’t. Cousin Jeff had disappeared, and he, and he only, could clear himself of the hateful charge of traitor . . . but people said he was drowned.

Next morning the Five awoke late, even Timmy. There wasn’t a great deal left in the larder, and Julian hoped that Toby would bring up some more food. If not, they must certainly go down to Billycock Farm and get some. They breakfasted on bread and butter and cheese, with water to wash it down and a humbug from the tin to follow!

‘We’ll go straight down to the butterfly farm, I think,’ said Julian, taking the leadership as he always did when there was any quick decision to be made. ‘Dick, you’d better take on the asking of questions – the old lady was so touched when you gave her that money! She’s probably got a soft spot for you now.’

‘Right,’ said Dick. ‘Well, are we ready?’

They set off to the butterfly farm, Timmy at their heels. When they came near, they slowed their steps, not wanting to run into Will Janes. But there did not seem to be anybody about at all, not even the butterfly men themselves.

‘They’ve probably gone off butterfly-hunting, I should think,’ said Dick. ‘Look – there’s poor old Mrs Janes trying to peg up her washing – dropping half of it on the ground.’

Anne ran over to the little woman. ‘I’ll peg up the things for you,’ she said. ‘Here, let me have them.’ Mrs Janes turned to her and Anne was shocked to see that her right eye was black and bruised.

‘However did you get that black eye?’ she began. ‘Here give me the whole basket. Gracious, what a lot of washing!’

Mrs Janes seemed a little dazed. She let Anne peg up the things without a word – she just stood and watched her. ‘Where are Mr Gringle and Mr Brent?’ asked Anne as she pegged.

Mrs Janes mumbled something. Anne made out with some difficulty that they had gone butterfly-hunting. ‘And where is your son, Will?’ she asked, having been prompted to ask this by signs from Julian.

To her dismay Mrs Janes began to sob. The old woman lifted her dirty apron and covered her head with it, and then, half-blinded by it, she stumbled towards the kitchen door, her arms stretched out in front of her.

‘Gracious – whatever’s the matter with her this morning?’ said Anne to the others. Dick ran to the kitchen door and guided the old lady in, sitting her down in her rocking-chair. Her apron slid down from her head and she looked at him.

‘You’re the one that give me fifty pence,’ she mumbled, and patted his hand. ‘Kind, you are. Nobody’s kind to me now. My son’s cruel. He hits me.’

‘Did he give you that black eye?’ asked Dick, gently. ‘When? Today?’

‘Yes. He wanted money – he always wants money,’ wept Mrs Janes. ‘And I wasn’t going to give him that fifty pence. And he hit me. And then the police came and took him away.’

‘What! The police took him – this morning do you mean?’ asked Dick astonished. The others came a little closer, astonished, too. Why – it was only last night that Will Janes had captured two of them!

‘They said he’d been thieving,’ sobbed Mrs Janes. ‘Robbed old Farmer Darvil of his ducks. But it’s those bad men that changed my son. He was a good son once.’

‘What men?’ asked Dick, patting the skinny old hand. ‘You tell us everything. We understand. We’ll help you.’

‘You’re the one that give me fifty pence, aren’t you?’ she said once more. ‘You’ll help a poor old woman, won’t you? It was those men, I tell you, that changed my son.’

‘Where are they now? Did he hide them here?’ asked Dick. Mrs Janes clung to his hand and pulled him closer.

‘There were four men,’ she mumbled, in such a low voice that Dick could hardly hear. ‘And my son, he was promised money if he hid them here, on Billycock Hill. They all had a secret, see? And they only talked about it when they were hiding up in my bedroom there – but I listened and I heard.’

‘What was the secret?’ asked Dick, his heart beating fast. Now perhaps he would hear what all this mystery was about.

‘They were watching something,’ whispered Mrs Janes. ‘Watching something out on the hills. Sometimes daytime, sometimes night-time, always watching. And they hid up there in my little old room, and cook for them I did and got nothing for it. Bad men they were.’

She sobbed again, and the four children felt sad and embarrassed. ‘Don’t worry her any more,’ said Anne.

Then there came the sound of feet outside and Mr Gringle walked by the window. He looked in and was astounded to see such a crowd in the little kitchen.

‘What! You again!’ he cried, when he saw Julian and Dick. ‘You just look out! I told the police about you when they fetched Will Janes this morning. They’ll be after you next, and you’ll be punished for prowling round here at night and smashing my glasshouse! How dare you come here again!’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nobody knows where to look

‘LET’S GO,’ said George. ‘We can’t find out any more from the poor old woman. I’m glad that son of hers has been arrested for thieving. At least he won’t be here to knock her about any more!’

Mr Gringle began to talk angrily again, but the Five had had enough. Timmy growled and made him retreat.

‘We’re going, Mr Gringle,’ said Julian coldly. ‘We shall be very glad to see the police, if you have really sent them after us. Quite a lot has been going on here that you don’t know anything about. You’ve noticed nothing but your butterflies and moths.’

‘Anything wrong in that, you uncivil boy?’ shouted Mr Gringle.

‘Well, it would have been a good thing if you had noticed how that fellow Janes knocked his poor mother about,’ said Julian. ‘I suppose you haven’t even seen the bruised black eye she has this morning? No? I thought not. Well, maybe the police will be asking you a few questions soon – about the four strangers that have been hiding in that little bedroom up there!’

‘What? What’s that you say? What do you mean?’ stammered Mr Gringle, astonished. ‘Men? Where from? Who?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Julian. ‘I wish I had.’ And then the Five walked off together, leaving a very puzzled and worried Mr Gringle behind them.

‘It serves him right,’ said Julian. ‘To think that he could make that miserable little woman slave for him, and never even notice how frightened and unhappy she was – or even see that she had a black eye from that scoundrel of a son. Let him get back to his butterflies!’

‘What did Mrs Janes mean – mumbling about men hidden in that room – four of them she said,’ wondered Anne. ‘And why did they go and watch on the hillside? What for? That must have been one of them you saw that night of the storm, Julian – the one you spotted with the butterfly net, who said he was Mr Brent. I suppose he pretended to be him, so that nobody would ask him why he was prowling out there!’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Julian. ‘Of course, they may have been watching the airfield, you know – yes, of course that’s what they were doing! Why didn’t I think of that before? They were watching it night and day – two by day, I suppose, and two by night – and paid Janes to keep them hidden in that room. What were they up to?’

‘Julian – could it – could it possibly be anything to do with the stolen aeroplanes?’ asked George, with sudden excitement in her voice.

‘It might. It certainly might,’ said Julian. ‘But I don’t know how it ties up with Jeff Thomas and Ray Wells flying them away. That doesn’t seem to fit somehow. You know – I do really believe we are on to something here! Let’s go down to Billycock Farm and see if Mr Thomas, Toby’s father, is about. I think we ought to tell him all we know.’

‘Yes, that’s a fine idea,’ said Anne, pleased. ‘We do want a bit of help over this now.’

‘Well, come on then,’ said Julian, and off they went at top speed down the hill, taking the path to Billycock Farm. They soon came to the farmyard and called Toby.

‘Toby! Where are you? We’ve got a bit of news.’

Toby appeared at the barn door, looking rather pale for he had had a bad night. ‘Oh, hallo – what news? The only news I want to hear is about Jeff. I can’t get it out of my mind.’

‘Where’s your father?’ asked Julian. ‘We think he ought to hear what we’ve got to say. He’ll know what to do. I’m afraid we don’t – it’s a puzzle we can’t seem to fit together!’

‘I’ll call Dad,’ said Toby at once, and sent a shout over the field where red-and-white cows were grazing. ‘Da-ad! Da-ad! You’re WANTED!’

His father came hurrying over the field. ‘What is it? I’m busy.’

‘Dad – Julian and Dick have got something to tell you,’ said Toby. ‘It won’t take very long – but they’re a bit worried.’

‘Oh – well, what is it, lads?’ said Mr Thomas, turning his kindly face to the boys. ‘Got into any trouble?’

‘Oh no, not exactly,’ said Julian. ‘I’ll tell you as shortly as I can.’ And he began to tell him the tale of the butterfly farm – and of the man he had seen at night on the hill – of the old woman at the butterfly farm, and of Will Janes, who treated her so badly. The farmer nodded at that.

‘Ay!’ he said. ‘Will’s changed this last year. Got into bad company, of course.’

‘We’ve met some of the “bad company”,’ said Julian and told of their adventure the night before – and then ended by telling Mr Thomas what the old woman had said to them that morning.

‘Now what has Will Janes been up to?’ said the farmer. ‘Bad enough to get into ill company – but worse to ill-treat his poor old mother! He’ll have to say who these men are that he’s been harbouring up there at the butterfly farm – and why they go out at night – watching the airfield, as you say, I don’t doubt. Why, maybe they’ve even had a hand in the stealing of those planes!’

Toby became very excited at this and his face grew crimson. ‘Dad! Maybe it was those men who took the planes! There were four, weren’t there? They would be strong enough to capture Jeff and Ray and take them off somewhere – and then two of them could fly off the planes, and the other two watch poor Jeff and Ray, wherever they are!’

‘You know – you may be right, young Toby,’ said his father. ‘This is a matter for the police – and at once, too. They must get on to Will, and get everything out of him – make him confess. If Jeff and Ray are held prisoner anywhere, they must be freed.’

Toby was dancing round in excitement. ‘I knew it wasn’t Jeff ! I knew he couldn’t do a thing like that! I’m sure it was two of those men. Dad, get on to the police at once.’

Mr Thomas hurried indoors to the telephone, and was soon telling the police all he knew. They listened in astonishment, and at once saw the tremendous importance of the information the children had given.

‘We’ll question Will Janes at once,’ they said. ‘He’s held on a matter of thieving, so we’ve got him under our thumb. We’ll call you back in about half an hour.’

That half-hour was the very longest the children had ever known. Julian looked at his watch a score of times and nobody could sit still, least of all Toby. Anne was fidgety, and thought she would play with Benny. But neither Benny nor the pigling was there, so she had to wait in patience.

When the telephone bell at last shrilled out everyone jumped violently. Mr Thomas ran to it. ‘Yes – yes – that’s the police speaking, is it? Yes, I’m listening. What’s the news? Oh . . . yes . . . yes . . .’

The farmer held the telephone close to his ear, nodding as he listened intently. The children watched him just as intently, trying to glean something from his few words, and from his face.

‘I see. Well – that’s very disappointing,’ they heard Mr Thomas say, and their hearts sank. ‘Thank you. Yes, very worrying indeed. Goodbye!’

He put down the receiver and faced the children. Toby called out to him. ‘Was it Jeff who stole the plane, Dad? Was it?’

‘No!’ said his father, and Toby gave a wild yell of joy, and leapt into the air.

‘Then nothing else matters!’ he cried. ‘Oh I knew it wasn’t Jeff !’

‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘There’s something very worrying.’

‘What?’ said Toby, startled.

‘Will Janes has confessed that those four men were sent to steal those two planes,’ he said. ‘Two of them were first-class pilots. The other two were thugs – bullies – sent to capture Jeff and Ray that night in the storm. They knocked them out and dragged them away from the airfield, and hid them somewhere. Then the pilots got out the two planes, and flew away. When the alarm was raised, it was too late.’

‘So – when the planes crashed into the sea, it was the first-class pilots who were drowned, not Jeff and Ray?’ said Julian.

‘Yes. But here’s the worrying part. The other two men, the ones who captured Jeff and Ray, have hidden them away, but didn’t tell Janes where!’ said Mr Thomas. ‘They refused to pay him any money for his help, because the planes had crashed and their plans had failed – and they also refused to tell him where Jeff and Ray were hidden . . .’

‘And now I suppose the two thugs have left the district – made their escape – and left Jeff and Ray to starve in some place where they may never be found!’ said Toby, sitting down heavily and looking suddenly subdued.

‘Exactly,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘And unless we find out where they are pretty quickly, things will go hard with them – they’re probably bound hand and foot – and are dependent on the two bullies for food and water. Once the men are gone, there is no one to bring them anything!’

‘Oh, I say!’ said Toby, horrified. ‘Dad, we must find them, we must!’

‘That’s what the police think,’ said his father. ‘And what I think, too. But nobody knows where to look!’

‘Nobody knows where to look!’ The words repeated themselves in everyone’s mind. Nobody knows where to look!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A morning of work

THERE WAS a dead silence after Mr Thomas had said those despairing words – ‘Nobody knows where to look!’ Where were Jeff and Ray lying, worried and anxious, knowing their planes to be stolen, picturing them in the hands of an alien country, being dismantled to discover the new and secret devices built into them!

‘They must be absolutely furious to think how easily it was all done!’ said Dick. ‘Taken by surprise like that! Surely there must be someone on the airfield who was in the secret?’

‘Bound to be,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘These things are carefully planned to the very last detail – and, of course, it was a bit of luck for the men to have a storm going on just at the time when they needed something to make their getaway unseen and unheard – unheard, that is, until the planes were actually up in the air, and then it didn’t matter!’

‘Yes – the rain poured down that night,’ said George, remembering. ‘Nobody would be out in it – even the guards on the airfield would be under shelter somewhere. It was a bit of luck for those fellows!’

‘I expect they were delighted to look out of the tiny little window at the cottage and see a storm blowing up on the very night they wanted one!’ said Dick.

‘It beats me how Mr Gringle and Mr Brent never heard or suspected anything – with four strange men hanging about the butterfly farm,’ said Julian.

‘There can’t be anything in their heads but butterflies or moths,’ said Toby. ‘I bet the police will have something to say to them!’

‘The thing is – what’s to be done now?’ said Julian, frowning. He turned to Mr Thomas, who was deep in thought. ‘What do you think? Is there anything we can do?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘The police have had reports of two men driving a closed van at a fast speed – the number was taken by two or three people who complained – and they think that it might have been the one used to transport Jeff and Ray to some distant hiding-place – somewhere in a disused quarry – or in some deserted cellar. Likely places of that sort.’

Everyone groaned. There certainly was absolutely nothing they could do, then – it would be impossible to hunt for miles for old quarries or other hiding-places!

‘Well – I must get on with my work,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘Where’s your mother, Toby? You’d better tell her about all this.’

‘She’s gone shopping,’ said Toby, looking at the clock. ‘She’ll be back just before dinner-time.’

‘I suppose Benny has gone with her,’ said Mr Thomas, going to the door. ‘Where’s Curly, his pigling? Surely he hasn’t taken him, too!’

‘I expect he has,’ said Toby. He looked at the other four children, suddenly remembering something. ‘I say – aren’t you a bit short of food up at the camp? Shall I get you some to take back with you?’

‘Well – if it isn’t a bore,’ said Julian, apologetically. It seemed rather dreadful to think about food when probably Jeff and Ray were lying tied up somewhere, hungry and thirsty, with no chance of food of any sort.

‘I’ll get some. You come with me, Anne, and say what you want,’ said Toby, and he and Anne went off together to the kitchen, and opened the door of the immense larder. Soon Anne was choosing what she wanted, trying to cheer up poor, downcast Toby at the same time.

‘Can we stay and help you this morning, Toby?’ asked Julian, when he and Anne came back. He knew that Toby had many jobs to do on the farm, although it was a holiday week – and he thought, too, that it would be good for the boy to have company that worrying morning.

‘Yes. I’d like you to!’ said Toby, brightening at once. ‘I told Dad I’d limewash the hen-houses today – it’s just the kind of day for that, nice and dry with a little breeze. You and Dick could help and we’d get them all done by dinner-time.’

‘Right. We’ll help you all morning, then we’ll go back to our camp and have a picnic lunch,’ said Julian. ‘If you’ve finished all the jobs you have to do, you could come back with us – and we could go on a hike or something this afternoon.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Toby, cheering up considerably. ‘Come on, then – we’ll get the lime and find the brushes. Hey Binky, come and help us – and you, too, Timmy.’

‘Wait a minute – can’t we help?’ said George. ‘I can limewash hen-houses as well as anyone!’

‘Oh, no, George – it’s a messy job – a job for boys not girls,’ said Toby, and went off with Dick and Julian, leaving George looking furious.

‘Now you’ve offended George,’ said Dick, grinning. Toby was genuinely surprised.

‘Have I really?’ he said. ‘Oh, of course – I forgot she doesn’t like to be girlish! Half a minute!’ He ran back to the window of the sitting-room and called through it.

‘Hi, George! What about doing a job for my mother? She never has time to weed her flower-garden and she is always upset because it’s so untidy. I suppose you and Anne couldn’t do something about that?’

‘Yes, of course!’ called Anne, going out of the door. ‘Let’s find a trowel each, and something to put weeds in. George! Don’t look so gloomy! Let’s weed the whole bed and make it marvellous for Mrs Thomas. She’s so kind and generous, I’d like to do something for her.’

‘All right. So would I,’ said George, more graciously, and went with her cousin into the garden.

‘I wish little Benny was at home,’ said Anne, as she and George began their task a few minutes later, complete with trowels and two old tin pails for the weeds. ‘I’d like him running round us, asking questions in that dear little high voice of his. And Curly, his pigling, running about like a funny little pig-puppy!’

‘Yes. I like Benny, too,’ said George, pulling up a handful of weeds. ‘My word – there are more weeds than flowers in this bed.’

‘Let’s take Benny up to the camp with us this afternoon, if Toby comes,’ said Anne. ‘Then Toby can take him back with him when he goes. I love little Benny – I could look after him while you and the boys go hiking this afternoon.’

‘All right,’ said George, torn between wanting to stay with Anne and little Benny and his pig and going with the boys. ‘Help – I’ve been stung by a most vicious nettle!’

All the children worked hard that morning. The hen-houses had been scrubbed down and well and truly lime-washed. Now they were drying quickly, the doors flung open to sun and wind. The girls had practically cleared the big flower-bed of weeds and were feeling rather pleased with it – and with themselves too!

There came the sound of a car at about a quarter to one. ‘That must be Mrs Thomas coming back from her shopping,’ said George. ‘Quick, let’s finish this bed before she sees us – we’ve only about ten minutes’ more work.’

‘Benny will soon come running to see what we are doing,’ said Anne. ‘And little Curly, too. My word – I’ve just filled my ninth pail of weeds!’

The three boys came by just then, swinging their empty pails and carrying their big brushes. Timmy came, too, with quite a few white patches on his coat!

‘Hallo, girls!’ said Dick. ‘My word, you’ve done a fine job on that bed – you can actually see the flowers now!’

The girls sat back pleased. ‘Yes, it looks a bit better,’ said Anne, pushing back her hair. ‘Your mother’s home, I think, Toby. We’d better go now, because you’ll soon be having your dinner, and we’ll be as hungry as hunters by the time we get back to our camp.’

‘Right,’ said Toby. ‘Here, I’ll take those pails of weeds for you – and the trowels!’

‘Oh – thanks,’ said George. ‘Dick, Anne and I will go off to the camp now, with Timmy, and take the salad and stuff that wants washing under the spring – you bring the rest of the food, will you?’

‘Of course,’ said Dick. ‘You take one basket, and we’ll take the other.’

They went off with Toby. Anne and George went to look for Mrs Thomas, but she had gone into the dairy and was not to be seen.

‘Never mind – she’ll be busy,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll go off straight away and get our lunch ready.’

They went off to the farm gate and up the path on to the steep slopes of Billycock Hill, the basket between them. Soon they were out of sight.

The boys washed their hands under a pump in the yard. Toby had gone to see his mother and to tell her what the police had said – but his father had already told her. She was very worried indeed.

‘Poor Jeff! Poor Ray!’ she said. Then she looked round as she heard the footsteps of Dick and Julian. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I thought it was Benny. Where is he?’

‘Benny – well, he was with you, wasn’t he?’ said Toby. ‘You didn’t leave him in the car, did you?’

‘What do you mean, Toby?’ said Mrs Thomas, looking startled. ‘I left Benny here at the farm. I didn’t take him with me – I never do when I have a lot of shopping, he gets so bored!’

‘But, Mother – I haven’t seen him all morning!’ said Toby. ‘He’s not at the farm. I’ve not seen him for hours!’

‘Oh, Toby!’ said his mother, looking frightened. ‘Toby, what’s happened to him then? I thought you’d look after him, as you usually do!’

‘And I thought he’d gone with you,’ groaned Toby. ‘Dick – Julian, have you seen Benny, or Curly?’

‘No – we haven’t set eyes on him this morning!’ said Dick. ‘Gosh – where’s he got to? He may have gone up Billycock Hill to try and find our camp – I know he wanted to.’

‘Toby – the horse-pond!’ said Mrs Thomas, looking pale. ‘Go there – he may have fallen in. Look in the loft of the barn, too – and go into the machinery shed. Oh, Benny, Benny, where are you?’

She turned to Dick and Julian, standing anxiously beside her. ‘Go up to your camp,’ she said. ‘Hunt and call all the way. He may be lost on the hillside. My little Benny! Perhaps his pigling “runned away” again as he so often tells us – and he followed and got lost! Oh, dear, whatever shall I do?’

CHAPTER TWENTY

A peculiar message

TOBY RACED off to the horse-pond, very frightened. The pond was deep in the middle and Benny couldn’t swim. Dick and Julian went off hurriedly through the farm gate and up to Billycock Hill, calling as they went.

‘Benny! Benny, where are you? Benny!’

They toiled up the steep, heathery slopes, looking for any sign of the small boy, but there was none. They were both anxious. Benny was such a little wanderer and his pig made such a good excuse for going long distances!

‘Benny! BENNY!’ they called, and sometimes the echo came back to them, calling the name too.

‘Perhaps he will be at the camp,’ said Dick. ‘I know he wanted to visit it. He may be there, the little monkey – with Curly, too.’

‘I hope so,’ said Julian, soberly. ‘But it’s a long way for his small legs to go. I don’t see how he could possibly find the way without someone to guide him – he has never been there yet!’

‘Well, maybe the girls spotted him on their way up,’ said Dick. ‘My word – this is a day, isn’t it? – nobody knows where Jeff and Ray are – and nobody knows where little Benny is either – I don’t call this a very good holiday!’

‘Exciting – but decidedly worrying,’ said Julian. ‘Why do we always run into something like this? We never seem to have a really peaceful time!’

Dick glanced sideways at Julian and gave a fleeting smile. ‘Would you like a really peaceful time, Ju?’ he said. ‘I don’t think you would! Come on – let’s shout again!’

They came to the camp at last, not having seen a sign of Benny or the pigling. He was not at the camp either, that was quite clear. The girls and Timmy were alone.

They were horrified when they were told about Benny. Anne went pale. ‘Let’s go and look for him at once,’ she said. ‘We must!’

‘Well, can you make some sandwiches very quickly?’ asked Dick. ‘We’re all hungry, and it won’t take a minute. We can munch them as we go. Let’s make a plan of campaign while you’re cutting them.’

George and Anne set to work with the sandwiches. Anne’s fingers were all thumbs, she was so shocked to hear that little Benny was missing. ‘Oh, I hope nothing’s happened to him!’ she said. ‘Missing all the morning – for hours! Poor Mrs Thomas!’

‘The sandwiches are ready,’ said George. ‘Now, what’s the plan, Julian? We all separate, I suppose, and search the hill, shouting all the time?’

‘That’s it,’ said Julian, beginning on his sandwiches hungrily, and slipping some tomatoes and radishes into his pocket. ‘You go round that side, Anne and George, one of you high up on the hill, and one lower down, so that your shouts cover as much distance as possible. And Dick and I will do the same on this side. We’ll go down to the butterfly farm too, in case he has wandered there.’

They all set off, and soon the hill echoed to loud shouts. ‘BENNY! BE-ENNY! BENNY! Coo-ee Benny! Coo-ee!’

Over the heather scrambled the four, with Timmy excitedly leaping about, too. He knew that Benny was lost, and he was sniffing for some smell of the small boy – but his sharp nose could find nothing.

Julian went to the butterfly farm and searched all about, but there was no sign of the boy there. In fact there was no sign of anyone, not even old Mrs Janes. She had gone off somewhere, and the two men were out butterflying as usual. In fact, George and Anne saw them as they searched their side of the hill and called to them.

‘Have you seen anything of a small boy and a little pig?’

The two men were curt and unhelpful. ‘No. No sign at all.’

‘I suppose they’re annoyed because they still think the boys broke the glass of their butterfly house!’ said George. ‘Well, I wish they would hunt for Benny instead of butterflies.’

It was two hours before Benny was found, and the Five had almost given up looking for him. They had met together as they came round the hill, and were standing in despair, wondering what to do next, when Timmy suddenly pricked up his ears. Then he barked – an excited little bark that said as plainly as possible, ‘I’ve heard something interesting.’

‘What is it then, Tim, what is it?’ cried George at once. ‘Go find, go find!’

Timmy trotted off, his ears well pricked. He stopped every now and again and listened, then went on again. The children listened, too, but they could hear nothing – no call, no groan, no whimper.

‘Why – he’s going downhill towards the caves,’ said Julian at last. ‘ The caves! Why didn’t we think of those? But how could that tiny little fellow have found the way there – it’s a long and complicated way from Billycock Farm?’

‘He might have followed Curly, the pig,’ said Anne. ‘We always thought that he only pretended that the pig ran away, so that he could wander where he liked and blame it on the pig. But this time the pig might really have “runned away”!’

‘Let’s hope it’s Benny that Timmy can hear,’ said Julian. ‘I must say I can’t hear a single sound and I’ve got pretty sharp ears!’

And then the next minute they all heard something – a small, tired voice calling high and clear – ‘Curly! Curly! I want you!’

‘BENNY!’ yelled everyone and leapt ahead so fast that the heathery ground shook beneath their trampling feet.

Timmy was there first, of course, and when the four children came up, they saw him gently licking the golden-haired little boy, who had put his arms round the dog’s neck in delight. Benny was sitting just outside the entrance of the caves, all by himself – his pigling was not there.

‘Benny! Oh, Benny darling, we’ve found you,’ cried Anne, and knelt down beside him. He looked up at the others, not seeming at all surprised to see them.

‘Curly runned away,’ he said. ‘He runned right away. Curly went in there,’ and he pointed into the caves.

‘Thank goodness you didn’t follow him!’ said George. ‘You might never have been found! Come along – we must take you home!’

But as soon as she lifted up the child he began to kick and scream. ‘No! No! I want Curly! I want Curly!’

‘Darling, he’ll come along when he’s tired of the caves,’ said Anne. ‘But your mummy wants you now – and your dinner is waiting for you.’

‘I’m hungry,’ announced Benny. ‘I want my dinner – but I want Curly, too. Curly! Curly! Come here!’

‘We must take Benny back,’ said Dick. ‘His mother will be so terribly worried. Curly will eventually come out if he’s got sense enough to remember the way – if not well – it’s just too bad! We daren’t go wandering down the unroped paths in case we get lost. Come on, bring Benny, George.’

‘Curly will come when he’s ready,’ George said, as she carried the little boy away from the entrance to the caves. ‘But now your mummy wants you, and your dinner’s waiting.’

With Timmy jumping up delightedly beside her, she carried the small boy down the chalky path, talking to him. They were all so thankful to have found him that they felt quite cheerful, forgetting Jeff and Ray for a time. They teased little Benny, trying to make him forget his lost pet.

Mrs Thomas was overjoyed to see the small boy again. She cried over him as she took him into her arms. ‘Oh, Benny, Benny – what a bad pair you are, you and your pigling.’

‘He runned away,’ said Benny, of course. He was set down at the table to have his dinner and began to eat very fast indeed because he was so hungry. Everyone sat and watched him, so glad to have him safe again that they hardly took their eyes off him while he gobbled his meal.

He finished at last. ‘I’m going to look for Curly,’ he announced as he got down from his chair.

‘Oh, no, you’re not,’ said his mother. ‘You’re going to stay with me. I want you to help me to make some cakes. Curly will come home when he’s ready.’

And in an hour’s time, when Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Toby were busy at the messy job of cleaning out the duck-pond, Curly did come back. He trotted into the farmyard, making his usual funny little squeals, and everyone looked round at once.

‘CURLY! You have come back! Oh, you bad little pig!’ cried George, and Timmy ran up to the pigling and sniffed him and licked him. The pig turned himself round to look for Benny – and Julian laughed.

‘Someone’s written something on him – in black! Come here, Curly, and let’s see.’

Curly trotted over to him, and Julian examined the rather smudged black lettering. ‘Can’t make it out,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s printed something on his pink little body – silly thing to do – but it will wash off.’

‘Wait!’ said Dick sharply, as Julian bent to get one of the rags they were using, to wash the pigling’s body. ‘WAIT, I say! Look – isn’t that a J and a T and below those are letters that look like R and V – no, W, because half that letter has been rubbed off by the heather or something.’

Now everyone was staring in excitement. ‘J . . . T, and R . . . W!’ said Toby in a breathless voice. Then it rose to a shout. ‘They stand for JEFF THOMAS AND RAY WELLS. What does it mean – who put those letters there?’

‘There are some more letters, smaller and rather smudged,’ said Julian. ‘Hold the pigling still, Dick. We must, we must make out what they are! It’s some kind of message from Jeff and Ray. The pigling must have been where they are hidden!’

They all looked earnestly at the smudgy letters, which appeared to be five in number. They were almost unreadable – but Dick’s sharp brain got hold of them at last.

‘The word is CAVES!’ he said. ‘See – the first letter might be G or O or C – but the third one is certainly V and last is S. I’m sure it’s CAVES – and that’s where Curly went, we know.’

‘Whew! That’s where Jeff and Ray are hidden then,’ said Julian. ‘Quite near, after all – and we thought they had been taken away by car and hidden miles away! Quick – where’s your father, Toby?’

Mr Thomas was found and was shown Curly, with the smudgy black letters on his back. He was astounded. ‘So Curly went wandering in the caves, did he – what a pig he is! Can’t keep his nose out of anything! And somehow he went to where Jeff and Ray were. What a strange way to send a message – they could surely have tied one on to his tail, or round his neck – these letters are almost unreadable!’

‘I nearly washed them off, thinking that somebody had played a silly joke on Curly,’ said Julian. ‘My word – if I had, we’d not have known where Jeff and Ray were. What shall we do now? Go to the caves at once? Telephone the police?’

‘Both!’ said Mr Thomas. ‘The police must know because they are searching everywhere, of course. Now – you start off to the caves – but take a ball of string with you, because Jeff and Ray won’t have been hidden in any of the roped tunnels, where sightseers so often go, and without string you might not be able to find your way back down the unroped ones. You may find that you need to unwind the string in order to get back safely. And take Timmy. He’ll be useful.’

‘He certainly will!’ said Julian. ‘And we’ll take the little pig, too, so that Timmy can smell him, and then smell the tracks Curly made as he wandered through the caves, and follow them! We shan’t have to wander all about wondering where Jeff and Ray are then.’

The Five set off at once, with Toby, too, all as excited as they could possibly be.

‘Good old Jeff ! Good old Ray!’ Toby kept saying. ‘We’re coming! Hang on, we’re coming!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

An exciting finish

UP THE heathery hill panted the five children and Timmy. Julian carried the frightened little pig, who was not at all sure what was happening to him. He kicked and squealed but nobody took any notice of him – he would be of importance when they reached the caves, but not till then!

At last they reached the chalky roadway to the caves and pounded along it, the loose bits of chalk flying between their feet. They came to the entrance where the warning notice stood.

‘Timmy!’ called George as Julian put down the trembling little pig and held him tightly. ‘Timmy – come here! Smell Curly – that’s right – smell him all over – now follow, follow, follow! Smell where he went in the caves – and follow, Tim, follow!’

Timmy knew perfectly well what tracking meant and obediently smelt Curly thoroughly, and then put his nose to the ground to follow the scent of the pigling’s footsteps. He soon picked it up, and began to run into the first cave.

He stopped and looked back enquiringly. ‘Go on, Tim, go on – I know this seems peculiar to you when we’ve got Curly here – but we want to know where he went!’ called George, afraid that Timmy might think it was just a silly game and give up. Timmy put his nose to the ground again.

He came to the magnificent cave, full of gleaming ‘icicles’, the stalactites and stalagmites, some of them looking like shining pillars. Then into the next cave, which, with its glowing rainbow colours, had reminded Anne of a Fairyland cave. Then through the next cave they went – and came to the forking of the ways.

‘Here we are – at the three tunnels,’ said George. ‘I bet Timmy won’t go down the usual roped one that all visitors would take . . .’

As she spoke the words Timmy, nose to ground, still following the scent of the pigling’s footsteps, took the left-hand, unroped way – and everyone followed, torches shining brightly.

‘I thought so!’ said George, and her voice began to echo round. ‘Thought so, thought so, so, so . . .’

‘Do you remember those awful noises we heard the other day – that piercing whistling, and those howls?’ said Dick. ‘Well, I bet they were made by the bullies who dragged Jeff and Ray here! I expect they heard Timmy barking – he must have heard the men, probably, though we didn’t – and they were scared in case we were coming. So they made those frightful noises to scare us off, and the echoes magnified them horribly.’

‘Well, they certainly scared us away all right,’ said Anne, remembering. ‘Yes – it must have been those men – there aren’t any awful noises today! My word, what a long, winding tunnel this is – and look, it’s forking into two!’

‘Timmy will know which way to take,’ said George – and, of course he did. With his nose to the ground, he chose the left-hand one without any hesitation.

‘You didn’t really need to bring a ball of string, Julian,’ said Toby. ‘Timmy will easily be able to take us the right way back, won’t he?’

‘Yes,’ said Julian. ‘He’s better than any unwinding ball of string! But without Tim we’d never find the way back – there are so many caves, and so many tunnels. We must be well into the heart of the hill now.’

Timmy suddenly stopped in his tracking, raised his head, and listened. Could he hear Jeff and Ray? He barked loudly – and from somewhere in the near distance came a shout. ‘Hoy! Hoy! This way! This way!’

‘It’s Jeff !’ shouted Toby, dancing in the dark tunnel with excitement. ‘JEFF! CAN YOU HEAR ME? JEFF!’

And a voice came back at once. ‘Hi, Toby! This way, this way!’

Timmy ran down the passage and stopped. At first the children could not see why – and then they saw that the passage came to an end there – a blank wall faced them just beyond Timmy – and yet Jeff’s voice came quite clearly to them!

‘Here we are, here!’

‘Why – there’s a hole in the floor of the tunnel just by Timmy!’ cried Julian, shining his torch on it. ‘That’s where Jeff and Ray are – down that hole. Hey, Cousin Jeff – are you down there?’

Julian shone his torch right through the hole – and there, lying on the floor of a cave below was Ray – and standing beside him, looking up eagerly, was Jeff !

‘Thank God you’ve found us!’ he said. ‘Those fellows told us they were leaving us here and not coming back. Ray’s got a twisted ankle – he can’t stand on it. They pushed us down this hole without any warning, and he fell awkwardly. But with your help we can get him up.’

‘Jeff, oh, Jeff – I’m so glad we’ve found you!’ yelled Toby, trying to look down into the hole with Julian. ‘What’s the best way to get you up? This entrance hole isn’t very big.’

‘If you can manage to pull me up, that’s the first thing to do,’ said Jeff, considering the matter. ‘Then two of you boys can go down to Ray, and help him to stand, and I think I could haul him up. This is an awful place – no outlet except through that small hole up there, which was too high for me to jump up to – and Ray couldn’t stand, of course, to help me!’

There was soon a great deal of acrobatic work on the part of Jeff, Julian and Dick! The two boys managed to haul up Jeff by lying down on the floor above, and putting their arms and shoulders through the hole to drag him up! Toby and George had to hold on to their legs to prevent them from being pulled into the hole! And Anne had to hold the little pig, which did its best to try and get down the hole, too!

At last Jeff was up through the hole, and then the two boys, Julian and Dick, leapt down to Ray. He seemed rather dazed and Jeff said that he thought he had hurt his head as well as his leg when the men pushed them down the hole. Julian pulled him gently to his feet and then he and Dick lifted him until he could reach Jeff’s swinging hands as he leant down through the hole.

Poor Ray was pulled up at last, and then up went Julian and Dick in the same way. Timmy thought the whole procedure was most extraordinary, and produced volleys of excited barks, scaring the little pig almost out of its skin!

‘Phew!’ said Jeff, when at last Ray was up, and being helped by the others. ‘I never thought we’d get out of there. Let’s get away from this nightmare place as quickly as possible. What we want is a little fresh air and food – and water! Those brutes haven’t been near us for what seems like weeks!’

They made their way back to the cave entrance, Timmy leading the way confidently, not even troubling to smell it. He never forgot a path once he had been along it.

They came out into the bright June sunshine, and it was so very dazzling to the two men who had been so long in pitch-black darkness that they had to shade their eyes.

‘Sit down a bit till you get used to it,’ said Julian. ‘And tell us how you wrote your message on the pig! Did he suddenly appear down the hole?’

Jeff laughed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there we were down in that awful hole, Ray and I – with no watch to tell us the time, no means of knowing if it was night or day, or even if it was last Thursday or next Monday! And suddenly we heard a pitter-pattering noise – and the next thing we knew was that something had fallen down through the hole and landed on top of us! It began to squeal like billy-o, so we guessed it was a little pig – though why a pig should suddenly descend on us out of the dark tunnel above us we simply couldn’t imagine!’

Everyone laughed, even Ray. ‘Go on,’ said Dick. ‘What did you do?’

‘Well, we felt the pig all over and knew it was a baby,’ said Jeff, ‘but it didn’t occur to us for some time that we might use it as a messenger! That was Ray’s bright idea!’

‘We could hardly read your message,’ said Dick. ‘It was just touch and go that we made it out.’

‘I dare say – but when you consider that we had been robbed of everything – even my pencil and pen – to say nothing of my money, my watch and my torch – and Ray’s, too – and that it was pitch-dark in the hole, I’m sure you will agree that we didn’t make a bad job of printing that message!’ said Jeff.

‘But what did you print it with if your pockets had been emptied?’ asked George, in wonder.

‘Well, Ray found a tiny bit of black chalk at the bottom of his trouser pocket,’ said Jeff. ‘It’s chalk we use to mark out our air-routes, on big maps – and that was all we had to use! Ray held the pigling and I printed our initials and the word CAVES on his back. I couldn’t see what I was doing in the dark, but I just hoped for the best. Then I stood up and tossed the poor little pig through the hole! It was a jolly good shot, I must say – I heard him scrambling on the edge, and then away he trotted, the finest little pig in the world!’

‘What a tale!’ said Julian. ‘My word, you’re lucky, Jeff, that the pigling came home all right! It’s a wanderer, that pig, always running away. And to think that I nearly washed your message off his back before we read it.’

‘Whew! It gives me the creeps to hear that,’ said Jeff. ‘Now tell me what happened when it was discovered that we’d disappeared from the airfield – wasn’t there an uproar?’

‘Rather! You knew your planes were stolen, didn’t you?’ said Dick.

‘I guessed that, when I heard two planes take off, just as some great thugs were hauling us up the hill,’ said Jeff. ‘I heard a dog barking as we were being kicked and dragged up – was it Timmy? I did hope he would come to our rescue.’

‘Oh, yes – that must have been the time when he began to bark that night of the storm!’ said George, remembering. ‘So it was you and those thugs we heard – oh, what a pity we didn’t know it!’

‘Those two stolen planes crashed into the sea during the storm, Jeff,’ said Toby. ‘The pilots weren’t found.’

‘Oh,’ said Jeff and was silent for a moment. ‘I shall miss my dear old bus – well, let’s hope I get another plane – and Ray, too. Ray! How do you feel now? Can you hobble along again or not?’

‘Yes – if the boys can help me as they did just now,’ said Ray, who was already looking much better since he had been in the open air. ‘Let’s get along.’

It was very slow going – but fortunately the police met them halfway, on their way to the caves! Mr Thomas had telephoned them and they had come along immediately. They took Ray in hand, and the little party made better progress.

‘Put that pig down, Anne, you must be tired of carrying it,’ said Dick. ‘You look like Alice in Wonderland. She carried a pig, too!’

Anne laughed. ‘I think it’s gone to sleep, just like Alice’s pig!’ she said. And so it had!

They were all very thankful when at last they arrived at Billycock Farm. What a welcome they had from Mrs Thomas, her husband and Benny. The little boy dragged his pigling from Anne’s arms and hugged it. ‘You runned away, you’re bad, you runned fast!’ he scolded, and set it down. It immediately scampered over to the barn, with Benny in pursuit and Anne went to fetch them back.

‘Now we’ll all have tea – I’ve got it ready, hoping that everyone would be back in time from their extraordinary adventures!’ said Mrs Thomas. ‘I know Jeff and Ray must be starved – you look quite thin in the face, Jeff.’

They all sat round the big table, Toby next to his hero, Cousin Jeff. They gazed with pleasure at the food there – surely never, never had there been such a spread before!

‘Mother!’ said Toby, his eyes gleaming. ‘Mother, this isn’t a meal – it’s a BANQUET! Jeff – what will you have?’

‘Everything!’ said Jeff. ‘Some of every single thing. I’ll start with two boiled eggs, three slices of ham, two thick pieces of bread and butter, and some of that wonderful salad. My word, it’s almost worth being down that hole for ages to end up with a feast like this!’

It was a most hilarious tea, and for once Benny sat at the table throughout the whole meal, and didn’t slip from his chair to go and find Curly. Why didn’t they have parties like this every day? Why, even his father was there, roaring with laughter! What a pity the two policemen hadn’t been able to stop to tea, too – Benny had a lot of questions to ask policemen! Where was Timmy? Yes, he was under the table – Benny could feel him with his foot. And, yes, Binky was there, too, just by Toby.

He slid his hand down with a large piece of cake in it, and immediately it was taken gently from his hand by a hairy mouth – Timmy was having a wonderful time, too!

Everyone was sorry when the grand meal was over. Jeff and Ray now had to report to the airfield, and Mr Thomas offered to take them in his car. The children went to see them off.

‘It will seem awfully dull now, up in our camp on the hillside,’ said Dick. ‘So many things have happened in the last few days – and now nothing will happen at all!’

‘Rubbish!’ said Jeff. ‘I promise you something will happen – something grand!’

‘What?’ asked everyone eagerly.

‘I shall see that you’re all given a free flight in a plane as soon as possible – perhaps tomorrow,’ said Jeff. ‘And – I shall pilot it! Now then – anyone want to loop the loop with me?’

What shouts and squeals from everyone! Jeff made a face and put his hands to his ears.

‘Me too, me too – and Curly!’ came Benny’s little high voice.

‘Where is Curly?’ said Jeff, looking out of the car. ‘I really must shake hooves with him – he’s been a wonderful friend to me and Ray! Wherever is he?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Benny, looking all round. ‘He must have . . .’

‘Runned away!’ chorused everyone, and Timmy barked at the sudden shout. He put his paws up on the car and licked Jeff’s hand.

‘Thanks, old boy,’ said Jeff. ‘We couldn’t have done without you either! So long, everybody – see you tomorrow – and then whoooops! – up in the clouds we’ll go!’

Five Get Into a Fix

CONTENTS

1 A MISERABLE CHRISTMAS

2 OFF TO MAGGA GLEN

3 THE END OF THE JOURNEY

4 IN THE OLD FARMHOUSE

5 THINGS MIGHT BE WORSE!

6 A FUNNY LITTLE CREATURE

7 BACK AT THE FARM AGAIN

8 OFF TO THE LITTLE HUT

9 A STRANGE TALE

10 IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

11 STRANGE HAPPENINGS

12 OUT ON THE HILLS

13 AILY IS SURPRISING

14 MORGAN IS SURPRISING TOO

15 ‘WHAT’S UP, TIM?’

16 AILY CHANGES HER MIND

17 THE ‘BIG, BIG HOLE’

18 INSIDE OLD TOWERS

19 A LOT OF EXCITEMENT

20 IN THE HEART OF THE HILL

21 AN ASTOUNDING THING

22 ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

CHAPTER ONE

A miserable Christmas

‘I DO think these Christmas holidays have been the worst we’ve ever had,’ said Dick.

‘Bad luck on George, coming to stay with us for Christmas – and then us all going down with those awful colds and coughs,’ said Julian.

‘Yes – and being in bed on Christmas Day was horrible,’ said George. ‘The worst of it was I couldn’t eat anything. Fancy not being hungry on Christmas Day! I never thought that would happen to me!’

‘Timmy was the only one of us who didn’t get ill,’ said Anne, patting him. ‘You were a pet, Tim, when we were in bed. You divided your time between us nicely.’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, rather solemnly. He hadn’t been at all happy this Christmas. To have four of the Five in bed, coughing and sneezing, was quite unheard of!

‘Well, anyhow, we’re all up again,’ said Dick. ‘Though my legs don’t really feel as if they belong to me yet!’

‘Oh – do yours feel like that too?’ asked George. ‘I was quite worried about mine!’

‘We all feel the same,’ said Julian, ‘but we shall be quite different in a day or two – now we’re up. Anyway – we get back to school next week – so we’d better feel all right!’

Everyone groaned – and then coughed. ‘That’s the worst of this germ we’ve had, whatever it is,’ said George. ‘If we laugh – or speak loudly – or groan – we start coughing. I shall go completely mad if I don’t get rid of my cough. It keeps me awake for hours at night!’

Anne went to the window. ‘It’s been snowing again,’ she said. ‘Not much – but it looks lovely. To think we might have been out in it all last week. I do think it’s too bad to have holidays like this.’

George joined her at the window. A car drew up outside and a burly, merry-looking man got out and hurried up the steps to the front door.

‘Here’s the doctor,’ said Anne. ‘I bet he’ll say we’re all quite all right to go back to school next week!’

In a minute or two the door opened and the doctor came into the room, with the mother of Julian, Dick and Anne. She looked tired – and no wonder! Looking after four ill children and a most miserable dog over Christmas had not been an easy job!

‘Well, here they are – all up and about now!’ said the children’s mother. ‘They look pretty down in the mouth, don’t they?’

‘Oh – they’ll soon perk up,’ said Dr Drew, sitting down and looking at each of the four in turn. ‘George looks the worst – not so strong as the others, I suppose.’

George went red with annoyance, and Dick chuckled. ‘Poor George is the weakling of the family,’ he said. ‘She had the highest temperature, the worst cough, and the loudest groans, and she . . .’

But whatever else he was going to say was lost beneath the biggest cushion in the room, which an angry George had flung at him with all her might. Dick flung it back, and everyone began to laugh, George too. That set all the four coughing, of course, and the doctor put his hands to his ears.

‘Will they be well enough to go to school, Doctor?’ asked Mrs Barnard anxiously.

‘Well, yes – they would – but they ought to get rid of those coughs first,’ said the doctor. He looked out of the window at the snow. ‘I wonder now – no – I don’t suppose it’s possible – but . . .’

‘But what?’ said Dick, pricking up his ears at once. ‘Going to send us to Switzerland for a skiing holiday, Doc? Fine! Absolutely smashing!’

The doctor laughed. ‘You’re going too fast!’ he said. ‘No – I wasn’t actually thinking of Switzerland – but perhaps somewhere hilly, not far from the sea. Somewhere really bracing, but not too cold – where the snow will lie, so that you can toboggan and ski, but without travelling as far as Switzerland. Switzerland is expensive, you know!’

‘Yes. I suppose it is,’ said Julian. ‘No – we can’t expect a holiday in Switzerland just because we’ve had beastly colds! But I must say a week somewhere would be jolly nice!’

‘Oh yes!’ said George, her eyes shining. ‘It would really make up for these miserable holidays! Do you mean all by ourselves, Doctor? We’d love that.’

‘Well, no – someone ought to be there, surely,’ said Dr Drew. ‘But that’s up to your parents.’

‘I think it’s a jolly good idea,’ said Julian. ‘Mother – don’t you think so? I’m sure you’re longing to be rid of us for a while. You look worn out!’

His mother smiled. ‘Well – if it’s what you need – a short holiday somewhere to get rid of your coughs – you must have it. And I won’t say that I shan’t enjoy a little rest while you’re enjoying yourselves having a good time! I’ll talk it over with your father.’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, looking inquiringly at the doctor, both ears pricked high.

‘He says – he needs a rest somewhere too,’ explained George. ‘He wants to know if he can come with us.’

‘Let’s have a look at your tongue, Timmy, and give me your paw to feel if it’s too hot or not,’ said Dr Drew, gravely. He held out his hand, and Timmy obediently put his paw into it.

The four children laughed – and immediately began to cough again. How they coughed! The doctor shook his head at them. ‘What a din! I shouldn’t have made you laugh. Now I shan’t be coming to see you again until just before you go back to school. I expect your mother will let me know when that day comes. Goodbye till then – and have a good time, wherever you go!’

‘We will!’ said Julian. ‘And thanks for bothering about us so much. We’ll send you a card when our coughs are gone!’

As soon as Dr Drew had driven off in his car, there was a conference. ‘We can go off somewhere, can’t we, Mother?’ said Dick, eagerly. ‘The sooner the better! You must be tired to death of our coughs, night and day!’

‘Yes. I think you must go somewhere for a few days,’ said his mother. ‘But the question is – where? You could go off to George’s home, I suppose – Kirrin Cottage . . . but it’s not high up . . . and besides, George’s father would certainly not welcome four coughs like yours!’

‘No. He’d go mad at once,’ said George. ‘He’d fling open his study door – and stride into our room – and shout “Who’s mak—” ’

But as George began to shout, she coughed – and that was the end of her little piece of acting! ‘That’s enough, George,’ said her aunt. ‘For goodness’ sake, go and get a drink of water.’

There was much debating about where they could go for a little while, and all the time they were talking the snow fell steadily. Dick went to the window, pleased. ‘If only we could find a place high up on a hill, just as the doctor said, a place where we could use our toboggans, and our skis,’ he said. ‘Gosh, it makes me feel better already to think of it. I do hope this snow goes on and on.’

‘I think I’d better ring up a travel agency and see if they can offer us something sensible,’ said his mother. ‘Maybe a summer camp set up on a hill would do – it would be empty now, and you could have a choice of a hut or a chalet or something.’

But all her telephoning came to nothing! ‘No,’ said the agencies. ‘Sorry – we haven’t anything to suggest. Our camps are all closed down now. No – we know of no winter ones in this country at all!’

And then, as so often happens, the problem was suddenly solved by somebody no one had thought of asking . . . Jenkins, the old man who helped in the garden! There was nothing for him to do that day except sweep a path through the snow. He saw the children watching him from the window, grinned and came up to them.

‘How are you?’ he shouted. ‘Would you like some apples? They’ve ripened nicely now, those late ones. Your mother said you weren’t feeling like apples – or pears either. But maybe you’re ready for some now.’

‘Yes! We are!’ shouted Julian, not daring to open the window in case his mother came in and was angry to see him standing with his head out in the cold. ‘Bring them in, Jenkins. Come and talk to us!’

So old Jenkins came in, carrying a basket of ripe, yellow apples, and some plump, brown-yellow pears.

‘And how are you now?’ he said, in his soft Welsh voice, for he came from the Welsh mountains. ‘You’re pale, and thin too. Ah, it’s the mountain air of Wales you want!’

He smiled all over his wrinkled face, handing round his basket. The children helped themselves to the fruit.

‘Mountain air – that’s what the doctor ordered!’ said Julian, biting into a juicy pear. ‘I suppose you don’t know somewhere like that we could go to, do you, Jenkins?’

‘Well, my aunt lets rooms in the summertime!’ said Jenkins. ‘And she’s a good cook, my Aunt Glenys. But I don’t know if she’d do it in the wintertime, what with the snow and all. Her farm’s on the hillside, and the slope runs right down to the sea. A fine place it is in the summer – but there’ll be nothing but snow there now.’

‘But – it sounds exactly right,’ said Anne, delighted. ‘Doesn’t it, Ju? Let’s call Mother! Mother! Mother, where are you?’

Her mother came running in, afraid that one of the children was feeling ill again. She was most astonished to see old Jenkins there – and even more astonished to hear the four children pouring out what he had just told them. Timmy added a few excited barks, and Jenkins stood twirling his old hat, quite overcome.

The excitement made Julian and Dick cough distressingly. ‘Now listen to me,’ said their mother, firmly. ‘Go straight upstairs and take another dose of your cough medicine. I’ll talk to Jenkins and find out what all this is about. No – don’t interrupt, Dick. GO!’

They went at once, and left their mother talking to the bewildered man. ‘Blow this cough!’ said Dick, pouring out his usual dose. ‘Gosh. I hope Mother fixes up something with Jenkins’s aunt. If I don’t go off somewhere and lose this cough, I shall go mad – stark, staring mad!’

‘I bet we’ll go to his old aunt,’ said Julian. ‘That’s if she’ll take us. It’s the kind of sudden idea that clicks – don’t you think so?’

Julian was right. The idea did ‘click’. His mother had actually met Jenkins’s old aunt that spring, when she had come to visit her relations, and Jenkins had brought her proudly up to the house to introduce her. So when Dick and Julian went downstairs again, they were met with good news.

‘I’m telephoning Jenkins’s aunt, old Mrs Jones,’ said their mother. ‘And if she’ll take you – well, off you can go in a day or two – coughs and all!’

CHAPTER TWO

Off to Magga Glen

EVERYTHING WAS soon settled. Old Mrs Jones, whose voice came remarkably clearly over the long-distance line, seemed delighted to take the four children.

‘Yes, I understand. Oh, their coughs won’t last a day here, don’t you worry. And how’s my nephew, Ivor Jenkins?’

‘Mother! Tell her we’re bringing a dog, too,’ said Julian, in his mother’s ear. George had been making wild gestures to him, pointing first to Timmy, then to the telephone, where her aunt stood patiently listening to old Mrs Jones’s gossipy talk.

‘Oh – er – Mrs Jones – there’ll be a dog, too!’ said her aunt. ‘What – you’ve seven dogs already? Good gracious! Oh, for the sheep, of course . . .’

‘Seven dogs, Timmy!’ said George, in a low voice to Tim, who wagged his tail at once. ‘What do you think of that? Seven! You’ll have the time of your life!’

‘Sh!’ said Julian, seeing his mother glance crossly at George. He felt thankful that this unexpected holiday had been so quickly fixed up. Like the others, he was beginning to feel very down and dull. It would be wonderful to go away. He wondered where their skis were . . .

Everyone looked brighter when things had been settled. No school for some time! No lounging about the house wishing something would happen! Timmy would be able to go for long walks at last. They would be on their own again, too, a thing the Five loved.

Jenkins was very helpful in looking out toboggans and skis. He brought them all into the house to be examined and cleaned. Something exciting to do at last! Their exertions made them all cough badly, but they didn’t mind so much now.

‘Only two days to wait – then we’re off!’ said Dick. ‘Ought we to take our skates, do you think?’

‘No. Jenkins says there’s no skating round about the farm,’ said George. ‘I asked him. I say – look at that mound of woollen clothes your mother’s just brought in, Ju! We might be going to the North Pole!’

‘Whew, Mother! If we wear all those, we’ll never be able to ski!’ said Julian. ‘Gosh, look – six scarves! Even if Timmy wears one, that’s one too many.’

‘One or two may get wet,’ said his mother. ‘It won’t matter how many clothes you take – you’re going by car, and we can easily get everything in.’

‘I’ll take my field-glasses, too,’ said Dick. ‘You never know when they might be useful. George, old thing, I do hope Timmy will be friends with the farm dogs. It would be awful if he quarrelled with them – and he does sometimes get fierce with other dogs, you know – especially if we make a fuss of them!’

‘He’ll behave perfectly,’ said George. ‘And there’s no need to make a fuss of other dogs if we’ve got Timmy.’

‘All right, teacher!’ said Dick, and George stopped her polishing and threw her duster at him. Yes – certainly things were getting normal again!

When the time came for the children to set out on their journey they were feeling a good deal better – though their coughs were still almost as bad! ‘I do hope you’ll lose those awful coughs, Julian, before you come back,’ said his mother. ‘It worries me to hear you all cough, cough, cough, day and night!’

‘Poor old Mother – you have had a time!’ said Julian, giving her a hug. ‘You’ve been great. What a sigh of relief you’ll give when we’re all safely away in the car!’

At last the car came, driving up the snowy path to the house. It was a hired car, a very big one, and that was fortunate, as the children’s luggage was truly colossal! The driver was a cheerful man, and he and Jenkins soon had the suitcases, toboggans, skis and all the rest either in the boot of the car, or strapped on top.

‘There we are!’ said the driver at last. ‘Everything made fast. We’re making a nice early start, and we should be safe in Magga Glen before it’s dark.’

‘We’re all ready to start!’ said Julian and the man nodded and smiled, climbing into the driving seat. Dick sat beside him, and the other three sat at the back, with Timmy on their feet. Not that he would stay there long! He liked to look out of the window just as much as the children did!

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief as the car slid down the drive. They were off at last! Jenkins was at the gate, and waved as they went past.

‘Remember me to my old aunt now!’ he shouted, as he shut the gate.

The driver was very chatty. He soon heard all about their miserable holidays, and how much they were looking forward to their unexpected break before going back to school. In return he told them all about himself and his family – and as he had eleven brothers and sisters, his tale lasted for a good part of the journey!

They stopped for a meal in the car after some time, and found that they were hungry for the first time since they had been ill.

‘Good gracious – I can really taste these sandwiches!’ said George, in a surprised voice. ‘Can you, Anne?’

‘Yes – they don’t taste of cardboard – like all our meals have lately,’ said Anne. ‘Timmy – you’re not going to fare so well, now that we’re getting our appetites back!’

‘He was a very good dustbin while we were ill, wasn’t he?’ said Dick. ‘He simply gobbled up all the bits and pieces we couldn’t eat. Ugh – that boiled fish! It tasted like stewed knitting!’

They laughed – and that set them off coughing again. The driver listened and shook his head. ‘Nasty coughs you’ve got!’ he said. ‘Reminds me of the time when me and my family got whooping cough – twelve of us together. My, when we all whooped, it sounded like a lot of fire-sirens going off!’

That made the children laugh again, and cough. But somehow nobody minded the irritating coughs now – they would surely soon be gone, once they could get out into the country and try their legs at running and racing and skiing once again.

It was a long drive. All the children fell asleep in the car after their meal, and the driver smiled to see them lolling back against one another, looking very peaceful. Only Timmy was awake, and he climbed cautiously up between George and the window, wishing the window was open, so that he could put his big nose out into the wind, as he loved to do.

They stopped for a very early tea at a teashop in a village. ‘Better stretch your legs a bit,’ said the driver, getting out. ‘I know I want to stretch mine. Look – I’m going into that place over there for my tea. There’s plenty of my pals there, and I’d enjoy a chat. You go and tuck in at this teashop here, and ask for their buttered crumpets. They’re the best in the world! Be back for you in a quarter of an hour – not longer, or we shan’t be at the farmhouse before dark. It’s still about an hour’s run, but there’ll be a moon later on.’

They were all glad to stretch their legs. Timmy bounded out as if he were on springs, barking madly. He was disappointed to find that they were only making a short stop – he had hoped they were at the end of their journey. But he was pleased to be given a buttery crumpet all to himself in the teashop. He licked every scrap of butter off first, much to the children’s amusement.

‘I’d rather like to do that myself, Timmy,’ said Anne. ‘But it’s not really good manners, you know! Oh, don’t make my shoe buttery – take your crumpet a bit farther away.’

They had time for two crumpets each, and a cup of hot tea. Julian bought some chocolate biscuits, as he felt unexpectedly hungry, even after two crumpets.

‘Marvellous to feel even a bit hungry, after not being able to look even bread and butter in the face!’ he said. ‘I knew we must be jolly ill that day we couldn’t eat even ice-cream though Mother tried to tempt us with some!’

‘My legs are still a bit funny,’ said Anne, walking back to the car. ‘But they’re beginning to feel as if they belong to me, thank goodness!’

They set off again. They were in Wales now, and mountains were beginning to loom up in the distance. It was a very clear evening, and although the mountains were white with snow, the countryside they passed was not nearly as snowy as their own home had been when they left.

‘I hope to goodness the snow doesn’t begin to melt, just as we’ve arrived,’ said Dick. ‘It seems all right up on the mountains at present – but down here in the valleys there’s hardly any.’

They passed a signpost, and Julian looked to see what it said. He made out a word that looked like ‘Cymryhlli’, and called to the driver.

‘Did you see that signpost? Should we look out for Magga Glen now?’

‘Yes. We must be getting on that way,’ said the driver. ‘I’ve been looking out for it myself. I wonder I haven’t seen it yet.’

‘Goodness! I hope we haven’t lost our way,’ said Anne. ‘It will soon be dark.’

The car went on and on. ‘Better look out for a village,’ said Julian. But they didn’t come to one – nor did they see any other signposts. The night was now coming on, but there was already a small moon, which gave a little light.

‘Are you sure we’re right?’ Dick asked the driver. ‘The road seems to be getting a bit rough – and we haven’t passed even a farmhouse for ages.’

‘Well – maybe we are on the wrong road,’ admitted the driver, slowing down. ‘Though where we took the wrong turning I simply don’t know! I reckon we’re near the sea now.’

‘Look – there’s a turning up to the right!’ shouted George, as they went slowly on. ‘It’s got a signpost, too!’

They stopped by the signpost, which was only a small one. ‘It doesn’t say Magga Glen,’ said Dick, disappointed. ‘It says Old Towers – just that. Would it be the name of a place, do you think – or a building? Where’s a map?’

The driver hadn’t one. ‘I don’t usually need a map,’ he said. ‘But this countryside isn’t signposted as it should be, and I wish I’d brought my map with me. I guess we’d better turn right and go up to see this Old Towers. Maybe they can put us on our road!’

So they swung up to the right, and the car went slowly, crawling up a long, steep, winding road.

‘It’s quite a mountain,’ said Anne, peering out of the window. ‘Oh – I can see something – a building on the side of the hill, look – with towers. This must be it.’

They came to stout wooden gates. On them was a large notice, with just two words on it in large black letters:

KEEP OUT

‘Well – that’s nice and polite!’ said the driver, angrily.

‘Keep out! Why should we? Wait a bit – there’s a little lodge here. I’ll go and ask our way.’

But the lodge was no more helpful than the big gate. It was in complete darkness, and when the driver banged on the door, there was no answer at all. Now what could they do?

CHAPTER THREE

The end of the journey

‘WELL – WE’D better turn round and go back down the hill,’ said Dick, as the driver came back to the car.

‘No, wait, I’ll just hop out and see if there are any lights anywhere,’ said Julian, and jumped out of the car. ‘I could go up the drive a little way and see if I can spot the house itself. It can’t be very far. After all, we spotted it just now as we came up the winding road.’

He went to the gates, and looked at them in the light from the car’s headlamps. ‘They’re padlocked,’ he called. ‘But I think I can climb over. There’s certainly a light somewhere beyond – though how far, I don’t know.’

But before he could climb over the gate there came the sound of running footsteps behind it – and then a loud and savage howl came on the night air, and some animal hurled against the other side of the gate.

The driver got back hurriedly into the car and slammed the door. Julian also ran to the car, finding his legs could go quickly if he wanted them to, for all their feebleness!

Timmy began to bark fiercely, and tried to leap through the closed car window. The howling and barking behind the gates went on and on, and the dog there, which must have been a very big one, continually hurled itself against the gates, shaking them from top to bottom.

‘Better turn round and go,’ said the driver, scared. ‘Whew! I’m glad I’m this side of those gates. What a din! That dog of yours is almost as bad, too!’

Timmy was certainly furious. Why wasn’t he allowed to get out and tell the other dog what he thought of him? George tried to pacify him, but he wouldn’t stop barking. The driver began to turn the car round, cautiously backing a little and then going forward, and backing again. The road was fairly wide, but there was a very steep slope to the right of the car. Old Towers was certainly built on a mountainside!

‘The people there must be jolly scared of burglars to have a dog like that,’ said Dick. ‘Yet it’s such a lonely place you wouldn’t think many people would come near it. What’s up, driver?’

‘There’s something wrong,’ said the driver, who now had the car facing back down the road again. ‘The car seems very heavy to drive, all of a sudden. As if I’d got my brakes on.’

‘Perhaps you have,’ said Julian.

‘Well, I haven’t,’ said the driver, shortly. ‘That is, only just a little, to make sure the car doesn’t shoot off down the hill – you can see it’s pretty steep here, and there’s almost a cliff, your side. Don’t want to drive down there in the dark! What can be the matter with the car? It will only crawl.’

‘I thought it came up the hill terribly slowly, too,’ said Dick. ‘I know the road was steep and winding – but didn’t it seem to you as if the car was making heavy work of it?’

‘Well, yes, it did,’ admitted the driver. ‘But I just thought the hill must be steeper than I imagined. What is the matter with the car? I’ve got no brake on at all, and I’m pushing the accelerator down hard – and still she crawls! As if she’d got a ton weight to pull!’

It really was a puzzle. Julian felt worried. He didn’t want them to have to spend the night in the car, lost in a cold countryside – especially as now it was beginning to snow lightly! The moon had disappeared behind heavy clouds, and everything looked very dark indeed.

They reached the bottom of the hill at last, and came on to the level road again. The driver heaved a sigh of relief – and then gave a sudden exclamation.

‘What’s happened? The car’s all right again! She’s going like a bird! Whew – that’s a load off my mind! I thought she was going to pack up, and leave us to spend the night here.’

The car sped along well now, and everyone was most relieved. ‘Must have been something wrong with her works somewhere,’ said the driver. ‘But I’m blessed if I know what it was! Now – look out for a house or a signpost.’

They actually came to a signpost not long after that, and George yelled out at once. ‘Stop! Here’s a signpost. STOP!’

The car slid to a stop beside it, and everyone looked at it and gave a shout of delight. ‘Magga Glen! Hurrah!’

‘Up to the left,’ said the driver, and swung his car into the lane. It was rather rough, and obviously only a farm road – but there, right up the hill they were now climbing, was a house, with lights shining in the windows. That must be old Mrs Jones’s farmhouse.

‘Thank goodness!’ said Julian. ‘This must be it. I’m glad we got here before the snow set in properly. It’s quite difficult to see through the windscreen now.’

Yes – it was the farmhouse. Dogs set up a terrific barking as the car drew near, and Timmy at once answered, almost deafening everyone in the car!

The driver drew up at the farmhouse door, and looked out cautiously to make sure that none of the barking dogs was leaping about round the car. The front door opened, and framed in the light stood a little old woman, as upright as any of the children!

‘Come in, come in!’ she called. ‘Out of this cold and snow! Morgan will help with the luggage. Come in, now!’

The four children, suddenly feeling very tired, got out of the car. Anne almost stumbled, because once again her legs felt as if they didn’t belong to her, and Julian caught her arm. They went in wearily, only Timmy seeming to have any energy! A tall man hurried out to help the driver with the luggage, saluting them as he passed.

The old lady took them into a big, warm living room and made them sit down. ‘What a journey for you!’ she said. ‘You look worn out and poorly. It’s late too, and I had a good tea laid for you. But now it’s supper you’ll be wanting, poor children!’

Julian caught sight of a loaded table not far from the fire, set to one side. Although he was tired, the sight of the good food there made him suddenly feel hungry. He smiled at the kind old woman. Her hair gleamed like silver, and her fine old face was wrinkled all over – but her eyes were as sharp and bright as a blackbird’s.

‘I’m sorry we’re so late,’ he said. ‘We lost our way. This is my sister Anne – this is our cousin George – and this is my brother Dick.’

‘And this is Timmy,’ said George, and Timmy at once offered his paw to the old woman.

‘Well, now, it’s a wonder to see a dog with such good manners,’ she said. ‘We’ve seven – but not one of them would shake hands – no, not if the Queen herself came here, God bless her!’

The barking of the dogs had now died down. Not one of them was to be seen in the house, and the children thought they must be outside in kennels somewhere. Timmy trotted about round the room, sniffing into every corner with much interest. Finally he went to the table, put his paws up and had a good look at the food there. Then he went to George and whined.

‘He says he likes the look of the food there,’ George said to the old woman. ‘I must say I agree with him! It looks good!’

‘Go and wash and get yourselves a bit tidy, while I make some hot tea,’ said Mrs Jones. ‘You look cold and hungry. Go through that door, look – and up the little flight of stairs. The rooms up there are all yours – no one will disturb you.’

The Five went out of the door and found themselves in a little stone passage, lit by a candle. A narrow flight of stone steps led upwards to a small landing on which another candle burned. The steps were very steep, and the children stumbled up them, their legs stiff after their long drive.

Two bedrooms opened off the little landing, opposite to one another. They seemed exactly alike, and were furnished in the same way too. There were washstands with basins, and in each basin was a jug of hot water, wrapped around with a towel. Wood fires burned in the little stone fireplaces, their flames lighting the rooms almost more than the single candles there.

‘You’ll have this room, girls, and Dick and I will have the other,’ said Julian. ‘Gosh – wood fires in our bedrooms! What a treat!’

‘I shall go to bed early, and lie and watch the flames,’ said Anne. ‘I’m glad the rooms aren’t cold. I know I should cough if they were.’

‘We haven’t coughed quite so much today,’ said Dick, and immediately, of course, had a very bad fit of coughing! The old woman downstairs heard him, and called up at once.

‘You hurry up, now, and come down into the warm!’

They were soon downstairs, sitting in the warm living room. Nobody was there except old Mrs Jones, pouring out tea.

‘Isn’t anyone else coming in to tea?’ asked George, looking all round. ‘Surely all this food isn’t just for us?’

‘Oh yes it is,’ said the old woman, cutting some ham in long thin slices. ‘This is your own room – the room I let out to families for themselves. We’ve got our big kitchen over there for ourselves. You can do what you like here – make as much noise as you like – no one will hear you – our stone walls are so thick!’

After she had served them, she went out of the room, nodding and smiling. The children looked at one another.

‘I like her very much,’ said Anne. ‘How old she must be, if she is Jenkins’s aunt! But her eyes are so bright and young!’

‘I feel better already,’ said Dick, tucking into the ham. ‘George, give Timmy something. He keeps poking me with his paw, and I really can’t spare him any of my ham.’

‘He can have some of mine,’ said George. ‘I thought I was hungry – but I’m not, after all. I suddenly feel tired.’

Julian looked at her. She did look tired, and her eyes were ringed with black shadows. ‘Finish your meal, old thing,’ said Julian, ‘and go up to bed. You can unpack tomorrow. You’re tired out with the long drive! Anne doesn’t look nearly so tired as you do!’

Old Mrs Jones came in again, and approved highly of Julian’s idea that they should all go up to bed when they had finished. ‘Get up tomorrow when you like,’ she said. ‘And just come into my kitchen and tell me when you’re down. You can do just what you like here!’

But all they wanted to do at that moment was to get into bed and go to sleep by the light of the crackling wood fires! What a relief it was to slip in between the rather rough sheets and shut their eyes! All except Timmy. He kept guard by the door for a long time before he crept on to George’s bed. Good old Timmy!

CHAPTER FOUR

In the old farmhouse

THE FOUR children slept like logs all night long. If they coughed they didn’t know it! They lay in their beds, hardly moving – and only Timmy opened an eye occasionally, as he always did on the first night in a strange place.

He jumped when a burning log fell to one side in the fireplace. He stared sternly at a big bright flame licking up the chimney, as the log burned fiercely. He cocked up an ear when an owl hooted outside the window.

But at last he too fell asleep, lying as usual on George’s feet – though old Mrs Jones would not have approved of that at all!

Julian awoke first in the morning. He heard the sounds of the farm coming through the closed window. Shouts of one man to another – the lowing of cows – the barking of one dog after another, and then all together – and the peaceful sound of hens clucking and ducks quacking. It was nice to lie and hear it all, feeling warm and lazy.

He looked at his watch. Good gracious, it was almost nine o’clock! Whatever would Mrs Jones think of them? He leapt out of bed, and awoke Dick with the quick movement.

‘It’s almost nine!’ said Julian, and went to the washstand. This time there was only cold water in the big china jug, but he didn’t mind. The bedroom was still warm with the burnt-out wood fires. The sun shone outside, but in the night the snow must have fallen heavily, for everywhere was white.

‘Good,’ said Julian, looking out. ‘We shall be able to use our toboggans soon. Wake the girls, Dick.’

But the girls were already awake, for Timmy had heard the boys stirring, and had gone whining to the door. George stretched herself, feeling quite different from the night before.

‘Anne – how do you feel? I feel really fine!’ said George, pleased. ‘Do you know it’s nine o’clock? We’ve slept for more than twelve hours. No wonder we feel better!’

‘Yes. I certainly do too,’ said Anne, with an enormous yawn. ‘Oh look, I’ve made Timmy yawn too! Timmy, did you sleep well?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, and pawed impatiently at the door. ‘He wants his breakfast,’ said George. ‘I wonder what there is. I feel rather like bacon and egg – goodness, I thought I’d never feel like eating that again. Brrrr – this water’s cold to wash in.’

They all went downstairs together and found their living room warm with a great wood fire. Breakfast was laid, but only a big crusty loaf, butter and home-made marmalade were there, with an enormous jug of cold, creamy milk.

Mrs Jones came in almost at once, beaming at them. ‘Well, good morning to you now,’ she said, ‘and a nice morning it is too, for all the snow we had in the night. What would you like for breakfast now? Ham and eggs – or home-made pork sausages – or meat patties – or . . .’

‘I’d like ham and eggs,’ said Julian, at once, and the others said the same. Mrs Jones went out of the room, and the children rubbed their hands.

‘I feared we were only going to have bread and butter and marmalade,’ said Dick. ‘I say, look at the cream on the top of this milk! Me for a farm life when I grow up!’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, approvingly. He kept hearing the other dogs barking, and going to the windows to look out. George laughed at him. ‘You’ll have to remember you’re just a visitor, when you meet those dogs,’ she said. ‘No throwing your weight about, and barking your head off!’

‘They look pretty big dogs,’ said Dick, joining Timmy at the window. ‘Welsh collies, I should think – they’re so good with the sheep. I say, I wonder what that dog was that barked at us so fiercely last night, behind that gate at Old Towers? Do you remember?’

‘Yes. I didn’t much like it,’ said Anne. ‘It was rather like a nasty dream – losing our way – going up that steep hill – only to find that horrid notice on the gates – and nobody to ask the way – and then that hidden dog barking ferociously just the other side of the gates! And then the car crawling down the hill in that strange way.’

‘Yes. It was a bit strange,’ said Dick. ‘Ah – here comes our breakfast. Mrs Jones, you’ve brought in enough for eight people, not four!’

She was followed by an enormous man, with a mass of black hair, bright blue eyes, and a stern mouth.

‘This is my son, Morgan,’ she said. The four children looked at the giantlike man in awe.

‘Good morning,’ said Julian and Dick together, and Morgan nodded his head, after giving them one quick look. The girls gave him polite smiles, and he nodded at them too, but didn’t speak a word. He went out at once.

‘He’s not much of a one for talking,’ said the old woman. ‘Not my Morgan. But the voice he’s got when he’s angry! I’m telling the truth when I say you could hear him a mile away! Sends the sheep skittering off for miles when he shouts!’

Julian felt that he could quite believe it. ‘Those are his dogs you can hear barking,’ said the old woman. ‘Three of them. They go about with my Morgan everywhere. He’s all for dogs, he is. Doesn’t care much about people! He’s got four more dogs on the hills with the sheep – and, believe you me, if Morgan went out in the yard there, and shouted, those four dogs with the sheep on the hills far away would hear him and come tearing down here like a flash of lightning!’

The children felt as if they could well believe this of the giantlike Morgan. They rather wished he would call his dogs. His voice would certainly be worth hearing!

They set to work on their breakfast, and although they couldn’t eat quite all that Mrs Jones had brought, they managed to do very well indeed! So did Timmy. They especially liked the bread, which was home-made and very good.

‘I could really make a meal just of this home-made bread and fresh butter,’ said Anne. ‘Our bread at home doesn’t taste a bit the same. I say – wouldn’t Mother be amazed to see the breakfast we’ve eaten today?’

‘She certainly would – considering that we haven’t felt like eating even a boiled egg for days,’ said Dick ‘I say – oughtn’t we to telephone home, Julian, and say we’re safely here?’

‘Gosh, yes,’ said Julian. ‘I meant to last night. I’ll do that now, if Mrs Jones will let me. Hallo, look – isn’t that our last night’s driver going off ? He must have spent the night here.’

The driver was about to get into his car when he heard Julian knocking at the window. He came over to the farmhouse, and walked in at the front door, and soon found the children’s living room.

‘I’m just off,’ he announced. ‘The old lady gave me a bed in the barn last night – never been so cosy in my life! And I say – I’ve found out why the car crawled so slowly up and down that hill to Old Towers last night!’

‘Oh, have you? Why was it then?’ asked Julian, with interest.

‘Well, it wasn’t anything to do with the car,’ said the driver, ‘and wasn’t I thankful to know that! It was to do with the hill itself.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ said Dick, puzzled.

‘Well, the shepherd’s wife told me they think there must be something magnetic down under that hill,’ said the driver. ‘Because when the postman goes up on his bicycle, the same thing happens. His bicycle feels like lead, so heavy that he can’t even cycle up – and if he pushes his bike, it feels just as heavy too. So now he leaves his bike at the bottom and just walks up!’

‘I see – so the magnetic whatever-it-is got hold of the car last night, and pulled so much that it made it go slow too,’ said Julian. ‘Peculiar! There must be some deposit of powerful metal in that hill. Does it affect all cars like that?’

‘Oh yes – no one goes up there in a car if they can help it,’ said the driver. ‘Funny thing, isn’t it? Odd hill altogether, if you ask me – that notice on the gate and all!’

‘I wonder who lives there?’ said Dick.

‘Only an old lady,’ said the driver. ‘She’s off her head, so they say – won’t let anyone in! Well – we know that all right. Sorry I lost my way last night – but you’re all right now. You’re in clover here!’

He moved to the door, raised his hand in salute, and went out. They saw him through the window getting into his car and driving away, waving a leather-gloved hand out of the window.

‘Is the snow thick enough to toboggan on?’ wondered George. ‘It doesn’t look like it. Let’s go out and see. Better wrap up well though – I bet the wind’s cold out on this hill, and I don’t want to start sniffling again. I’ve had enough of that.’

Soon they were all clad in heavy coats, scarves and woollen hats. Mrs Jones nodded her head when she saw them, and smiled. ‘Sensible children you are,’ she said. ‘It’s cold today, with a biting wind, but healthy weather! Be careful of that dog of yours, my boy – don’t you let him loose till you’re well away from the farm, in case he goes for one of my Morgan’s dogs.’

George smiled, pleased to be addressed as a boy. They began to wander round the farm, Timmy cross because he was on the lead. He pulled at it, wanting to run round and explore on his own. But George wouldn’t let him. ‘Not till you’ve made friends with all the other dogs,’ she said. ‘I wonder where they are?’

‘Must have gone out with Morgan,’ said Dick. ‘Come on – let’s go and look at the cows in the sheds. I do love the smell of cows.’

They wandered round the farm, enjoying the pale sun, the keen wind, and the feeling that their legs belonged to them at last, and were not likely to give way at any moment. They hardly coughed at all, and felt quite annoyed when one or other suddenly began.

‘I shall let old Timmy off the lead a bit now,’ said George. ‘I can’t see a dog about anywhere.’ So she slipped the lead off his collar and he ran off joyfully at once, sniffing here, there and everywhere. He disappeared round a corner, his tongue hanging out happily.

And then the most appalling barking began! The children stopped as if they had been shot. It wasn’t one dog, or even two – it sounded like a dozen! The four rushed round the corner of a barn at once – and there was poor Timmy, standing with his back to the barn, growling and barking and snarling at three fierce dogs!

‘No, George, no, don’t go to Timmy,’ shouted Julian, seeing that George was going to rescue Tim, whatever happened. ‘Those dogs are savage!’

But what did George care for that? She raced to Timmy, stood in front of him, and yelled at the three surprised dogs snarling there. ‘HOW DARE YOU! GET AWAY! GO HOME! I SAID GO HOME!’

CHAPTER FIVE

Things might be worse!

THE THREE snarling dogs took no notice of George. It was Timmy they wanted. Who was this strange dog who dared to come wandering round their home? They tried to get at him, but George stood there, swinging the leather lead, and giving first one dog and then another a sharp flick. Julian rushed to help her – and then Timmy gave a sharp yelp. He had been bitten!

Someone came rushing round the corner. It was Mrs Jones, running as if she were a twelve-year-old!

‘Tang! Bob! Dai!’ she called, but the three dogs took no notice of her. And then, from somewhere, came a voice. What a voice! It echoed all round the farmyard as if it had come through a megaphone.

‘DAI! BOB! TANG!’

And at the sound of that booming voice the three dogs stopped as if shot. Then they turned about and tore off at top speed.

‘Thank God! That was Morgan,’ panted the old woman, clutching her shawl round her. ‘He must have heard the barking. Oh, my little dear – are you hurt?’ She took hold of George’s arm, and looked at her anxiously.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ said George, looking rather white. ‘It’s Timmy that’s hurt. Oh, Tim, darling Tim, where did they bite you?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, who, though extremely startled, didn’t seem at all frightened. It had all happened so suddenly. George dropped down on her knees in the snow, and gave a little scream. ‘He’s been bitten on the neck – oh look! Poor, poor Timmy. Why did I let you off the lead?’

‘It’s not much, George,’ said Julian, looking at the bleeding place. ‘The other dog bit just where his collar is, look – and his teeth went through the collar, not really into Tim’s neck. It’s really not much more than a graze.’

Anne was leaning against the wall, looking sick, and Dick suddenly felt as if his legs were wobbly again. He couldn’t help thinking what would have happened if the three savage dogs had bitten George instead of Timmy. Good old George! She was as brave as a lion!

‘What a thing to happen!’ said old Mrs Jones, upset. ‘Why for did you let him loose, my boy? You should have waited for my Morgan to come along with his dogs, and tell them your Timmy was a friend.’

‘I know,’ said George, still on her knees beside Timmy. ‘It was all my fault. Oh, Timmy, I’m so thankful you’ve only got that one small bite. Mrs Jones, have you any TCP? I must put some on at once.’

But before Mrs Jones could answer, the giantlike figure of Morgan came round the corner of the barn, his three dogs, extremely subdued now, at his heels.

‘Hey?’ he said, inquiringly, looking at the four children and his mother.

‘The dogs attacked this one,’ explained his mother. ‘You shouted just in time, Morgan. But he’s not much hurt. You should have seen this boy here – the one the dog belongs to – he stood in front of his dog and fought off Tang, Bob and Dai!’

Julian couldn’t help smiling to hear George continually called a boy – but, standing there in snow-trousers and coat, a woollen cap on her short hair, she looked very like a sturdy boy.

‘Please come and get the TCP,’ said George, anxiously, seeing a drop of blood drip from Timmy’s neck on to the white snow. Morgan took a step forward and bent down to look at Timmy.

He made a small scornful sound and stood up again. ‘ He’s all right,’ he said, and walked off.

George stared after him angrily. It was his dogs that had attacked and hurt Timmy – and he hadn’t even been sorry about it! She felt so angry that tears came suddenly into her eyes. She blinked them away, ashamed.

‘I don’t think I want to stay here,’ she said loudly, and clearly. ‘Those dogs will be sure to attack Timmy again. They might kill him. I shall go home.’

‘Now, now, you’re just upset,’ said kind old Mrs Jones, taking George’s arm. George shook off her hand, scowling. ‘I’m not upset. I’m just angry to think my dog should have been attacked for nothing – and I’m sure he’ll be attacked again. And I want to see to his neck. I’m going indoors.’

She stalked off with Timmy at her heels, her head well up, bitterly ashamed of two more tears that suddenly ran down her cheeks. It wasn’t like old George to cry! But she was still not quite herself after being ill. The other three looked at one another.

‘Go with her, Anne,’ said Julian, and Anne obediently ran after George. Julian turned to the worried old woman.

‘You shouldn’t stand out here in the cold,’ he said, seeing that she was shivering, and pulling her shawl more closely round her. ‘George will soon be all right. Don’t take any notice of what she says.’

‘She! What, isn’t she a boy, then?’ said Mrs Jones, in surprise. ‘But now, surely she won’t go home, will she?’

‘No,’ said Julian, hoping he was right. You never could tell with George! ‘She’ll soon get over it. If we could get some TCP it would help, though! She’s always terrified of wounds going bad, where Timmy is concerned.’

‘Come away in, then,’ said Mrs Jones, and hurried back to the farmhouse, refusing Julian’s hand over the snow.

George was in the living room with Timmy. She had got some water and was bathing the wound with her handkerchief, having first taken off Tim’s collar.

‘I’ll fetch you the TCP, boy,’ said Mrs Jones, forgetting again that George was a girl. She ran to her kitchen, and came back with a big bottle of antiseptic. George took it gratefully, and dabbed some on Timmy, who stood still, quite enjoying all the fuss. He jumped a little when it stung him, and George patted him and praised him.

‘He wouldn’t mind having stuff dabbed on him all day long, George, if you would only make a fuss of him,’ said Dick, with a laugh.

George looked up. ‘He might have been killed,’ she said. ‘And if those dogs get him again, he certainly will be! I’m going to go back home – not to your home, Ju – but to my own, at Kirrin Cottage.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly, George,’ said Dick, exasperated. ‘Anyone would think Timmy had been injured for life or something. He’s only got a skin wound! Why spoil what may be a jolly good holiday just for that?’

‘I don’t trust those three dogs,’ said George, stubbornly. ‘They’ll be out to get Tim now – I know they will. I tell you I’m going home. I’m not spoiling your holiday – only my own.’

‘Well, listen – stay one more day,’ said Julian, hoping that if she did, George would see how stupidly she was behaving. ‘Just one more day. That’s not much to ask. It will upset old Mrs Jones dreadfully if you rush off like this – and it will be difficult to make arrangements for you to go back today, now that everywhere is under snow again.’

‘All right,’ said George, ungraciously. ‘I’ll stay till tomorrow. It will give Timmy a bit of time to get over his fright. But ONLY till tomorrow.’

‘Tim’s not frightened,’ said Anne. ‘George, he would have taken on all three dogs by himself if you hadn’t gone to his help. Wouldn’t you, Timmy?’

‘Woof, woof!’ said Timmy, agreeing at once. He wagged his tail vigorously. Dick laughed. ‘Good old Tim!’ he said. ‘ You don’t want to go home, do you?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, obligingly, and wagged his tail again. George put on one of her scowls, and Julian nudged the others to warn them to stop teasing her. He didn’t want George suddenly to change her mind and rush off home straight away!

‘I vote we go for a walk,’ said Dick. ‘It’s a shame to stick indoors like this on this sunny, snowy day. Anne, are you coming?’

‘I will if George does,’ said Anne. But George shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay in with Tim this morning. You go off together.’

Anne wouldn’t come, so the boys left the two girls and went out into the keen, invigorating mountain air once more. Already they felt better, and were not coughing at all. What a pity this had happened! It spoilt things for everyone – even for old Mrs Jones, who now appeared at her front door, looking anxious.

‘Don’t you worry now, Mrs Jones,’ said Julian. ‘I expect our cousin will be all right soon. She’s given up the idea of rushing home today at any rate! My brother and I are going for a walk up the mountain. Which way is best?’

‘Well now, take that path,’ said the old woman, pointing. ‘And go on till you come to our summer chalet. You can rest there before coming back – and if you don’t want to come back for dinner, well, you’ll find food in the cupboard there. Here is the key to get into the little place!’

‘Oh thanks,’ said Julian, surprised. ‘That sounds good. We’d love to have our lunch up there, Mrs Jones – we’ll be back before dark. Tell the girls for us, will you?’

And away they went, whistling. It was fun to have a day all to themselves, just the two of them, together!

They took the snowy path and began to climb up the slope of the mountain. The sun was now melting the snow a little, so they could make out the path fairly easily. Then they discovered that big black stones marked the way here and there – a guide to the farmer and his men, when the snow covered the path and everything!

The view was magnificent. As they climbed higher, they could see the tops of more and more hills, all of which sparkled snowy-white in the pale January sun. ‘I say – if only we had a bit more snow, what tobogganing we could have down these slopes,’ said Dick, longingly. ‘I wish I’d brought my skis this morning – the snow is deep enough for them down that hill – we’d whizz along like lightning!’

They were glad when they at last came to the little hut or chalet that old Mrs Jones had spoken about. After two hours’ climbing it was nice to think of having something to eat, and a good rest!

‘It’s quite a place,’ said Julian, slipping the key into the lock. ‘A little wooden house, with windows and all!’

He opened the door and went inside. Yes – it was a very fine little place indeed, with bunk beds let into the wooden walls, a stove for heating – and cupboards full of crockery – and tins of food! The two boys had the same idea at once, and swung round to one another.

‘Couldn’t we stay here – on our own? George would love it too,’ said Julian, putting into words what Dick was already thinking. Oh – if only they could!

CHAPTER SIX

A funny little creature

THE BOYS were tired, but not too tired to examine the little hut thoroughly – though it really was more like a one-roomed house. It faced across the deep valley, and the sun shone straight into it. Julian opened cupboard after cupboard, exclaiming in delight.

‘Bedding! Towels! Crockery – and cutlery! And look at these tins of food – and bottles of orangeade and the rest! My word, people who come to stay at Magga Glen in the summer must have a fantastic time!’

‘We could light the stove to heat the room,’ suggested Dick, pulling the oil-stove into the middle of the room.

‘No. We don’t need to,’ said Julian. ‘The sun is pouring in, and it really isn’t cold in here. We could wrap ourselves round in rugs from that cupboard if we want to.’

‘Do you think we’d be allowed to come up here, instead of living down at the farm?’ said Dick, opening a tin of ham with a tin-opener that hung on a nail by the cupboard. ‘It’s so much nicer to be quite on our own and independent! George would simply love it!’

‘Well, we can ask,’ said Julian, taking the cap off a bottle of orangeade. ‘Can we find some biscuits to eat with this ham? Oh yes – here are some cream-cracker biscuits. I say – I’m really ravenous!’

‘So am I,’ said Dick, his mouth full. ‘Pity George was so silly – she and Anne could have enjoyed this too.’

‘Well – perhaps on the whole it’s as well they didn’t come,’ said Julian. ‘I think Anne would have been too tired to come all this way on her first day – and George certainly had a worse cold and cough than anyone. A day at the farm will probably do her good. Gosh – she’s absolutely fearless, isn’t she? I’ll never forget her standing up to those three savage dogs! I was jolly scared myself.’

‘I’m going to get a rug and wrap it round me and sit out on the doorstep in the sun,’ said Dick. ‘That view is too marvellous for words!’

He and Julian took a rug each, and then sat out on the wooden doorstep, munching their ham and biscuits. They stared across at the great hill opposite.

‘Is that a house on the slope over there – near the top, look?’ said Dick, suddenly.

Julian stared across at the opposite hill, but could make out nothing.

‘It can’t be,’ he said. ‘The roof would be covered with snow, and we’d never see it. Besides, who would build a house so high up?’

‘Plenty of people,’ said Dick. ‘It’s not everyone who likes towns and shops and cinemas and traffic and the rest. I can imagine an artist building a house on one of these mountains, just for the view! He’d be quite happy looking at it and painting it all day long.’

‘Well – I like a bit of company, I must say,’ said Julian. ‘This is all right for a week or two – but you’d need to be an artist or a poet – or a shepherd or something, to stand it all the time!’

He yawned. Both boys had finished their meal, and felt comfortably full and at peace. Dick yawned too, and lay back on his rug. But Julian pulled him upright.

‘Oh no! We’re not going to take naps up here! We’d sleep like logs again, and wake up in the dark. The sun’s going down already, and we’ve got all that long walk back to the farm – and no torch to light our way if we go wrong!’

‘There are those black stones,’ said Dick, with another yawn. ‘All right, all right – I agree with you! I certainly don’t want to stumble down this mountain in the pitch dark!’

Julian suddenly clutched Dick’s arm, and pointed upwards, where the path still wound on and on. Dick turned – and stared. Someone was up there, skipping down the path towards them, with a lamb gambolling around, and a small dog scampering after.

‘Is it a boy or a girl?’ said Julian, in wonder. ‘My word – it must be cold, whichever it is!’

It was a small girl coming along, a wild-looking little creature with a mass of untidy black curls, a face as brown as an oak-apple – and very few clothes! She wore a dirty pair of boys’ shorts, and a blue shirt. Her legs were bare, and she had old shoes on her feet. She was singing as she came, in a high sweet voice like a bird’s.

The dog with her began to bark, and she stopped her song at once. She spoke to the dog, and he barked again, facing towards the hut. The lamb gambolled round without stopping.

The little girl looked towards the hut, and saw Julian and Dick. She turned at once and ran back the way she had come. Julian got up and shouted to her.

‘It’s all right! We shan’t hurt you! Look – here’s a bit of meat for your dog!’

The girl stopped and looked round, poised ready to run again at once. Julian waved the bit of ham left over from their meal. The little dog smelt it on the wind, and came running up eagerly. He snapped at it, got it into his mouth and ran back to the girl. He didn’t attempt to eat it, but just stood there by her, looking up.

She bent down eagerly, and took it. She tore it in half and gave one piece to the eager dog, who swallowed it at once – and the other piece she ate herself, keeping a sharp eye on the two boys as she did so. The lamb came nosing round her, and she put one thin arm round its neck.

‘What a funny little thing,’ said Julian to Dick. ‘Where can she have come from? She must be absolutely frozen!’

Dick called to the child.

‘Hallo! Come and talk to us!’

She shot off at once as soon as he shouted. But she didn’t go very far. She half hid behind a bush, peeping out now and again.

‘Get some of those biscuits,’ said Julian to Dick. ‘We’ll hold some out to her. She’s like a wild thing.’

So Dick held out a handful of biscuits, and called:

‘Bicuits! For you! And your dog!’

But only the lamb came gambolling up, a toy-like creature, with a tail that frisked and whisked all the time. It tried to get on to Dick’s knee, and bumped its little black nose against his face.

‘Fany, Fany!’ called the small girl, in a high, clear voice. The lamb tried to get away but Dick held on to it. It seemed to be all legs!

‘Come and get it!’ shouted Dick. ‘We shan’t hurt you!’

The little girl couldn’t bear to leave her lamb. She came out from the bush, and took a few hesitating steps towards the boys. The dog ran right up to them, snuffing at their hands for more ham. Julian gave him a biscuit and he crunched it up at once, giving sidelong glances at his watching mistress as if to apologise for eating it all himself. Julian patted the little thing and it licked him joyfully.

The little girl came nearer. Her legs looked blue with cold, but although she had so little on, she didn’t seem to be shivering. Julian held out another biscuit. The dog jumped up and took it neatly in his mouth, running up to the little girl with it. The boys burst into laughter, and the small girl smiled suddenly, her whole face lighting up.

‘Come here!’ called Julian. ‘Come and get your pretty lamb. We’ve got some more biscuits for you and your dog.’

At last the child came near to them, as watchful as a hare, ready to turn at a moment’s notice. The boys sat still and patient, and soon the girl was near enough to snatch a biscuit and retreat again. She sat down on one of the black stones marking the path, and munched her biscuit, staring at them all the time out of her big dark eyes.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Dick, not moving from his place, afraid that the child would leap off like a frightened goat.

The girl didn’t seem to understand. Dick repeated his question, speaking slowly.

‘What – is – your – name? What – are – you – called?’

The child nodded her head and then pointed to herself.

‘Me – Aily,’ she said.

She pointed at the dog.

‘Dai,’ she said, and he leapt up at his name and covered her with licks. Then she pointed to the lamb, which was now gambolling round the boys like a mad thing. ‘Fany,’ she said.

‘Ah – Aily – Dai – Fany,’ said Julian, solemnly, and he too pointed at first one then the other. Then he pointed to himself. ‘Julian!’ he said, and then pointed to Dick. ‘Dick!’

The little girl gave a high, clear laugh, and suddenly poured out quite a long speech. The boys couldn’t understand a word of it.

‘She’s speaking in Welsh, I suppose,’ said Dick, disappointed. ‘What a pity – it sounds lovely, but I can’t make head or tail of it.’

The child saw that they had not understood. She frowned, as if thinking hard.

‘My da – he up high – sheep!’ she said.

‘Oh – your father’s a shepherd up there!’ said Dick. ‘But you don’t live with him, do you?’

Aily considered this, then shook her head.

‘Down!’ she said, pointing. ‘Aily down!’ Then she turned to the dog and the lamb, and cuddled them both. ‘Dai mine,’ she said, proudly. ‘Fany mine!’

‘Nice dog. Nice lamb,’ said Julian, solemnly, and the little girl nodded in delight. Then, for no reason that the boys could see, she stood up, leapt down the hill, followed by the lamb and the dog, and disappeared.

‘What a funny little creature!’ said Dick. ‘Like a pixie of the hills, or an elf of the woods. I quite expected her to disappear in smoke, or something. I should think she runs completely wild, wouldn’t you? We’ll ask Mrs Jones about her when we get back!’

‘My goodness – come on, the sun’s getting quite low,’ said Julian, getting up in a hurry. ‘We’ve got to put the things away, and fold up the rugs, and lock up. Buck up – once the sun goes it will be dark almost at once, and we’ve quite a long way to go.’

It didn’t take them long to tidy up and lock the little house carefully. Then down the path they went at top speed. The sun had melted most of the snow farther down, and the going was easy. The boys felt exhilarated by their day on the mountainside and sang as they went, until they were quite out of breath.

‘There’s the farmhouse,’ said Dick, and both boys were glad to see it. Their legs were tired now, and they longed for a good meal and a rest in a warm room.

‘I hope George has recovered a bit by now – and is still at the farm!’ said Julian, with a laugh. ‘You never know with old George! I hope she’ll like the sound of that hut. We’ll ask Mrs Jones about it tonight, when we’ve talked it over with Anne and George.’

‘Here we are,’ said Dick, thankfully, as they went up to the house. ‘Anne! George! We’re back – where are you?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back at the farm again

ANNE CAME running to meet Dick and Julian.

‘Oh, I’m glad you’re back!’ she said. ‘It’s beginning to get dark, and I was afraid you’d lose your way!’

‘Hallo, George!’ said Julian, seeing her behind Anne, in the darkness of the passage. ‘How’s Timmy?’

‘All right, thank you,’ said George, sounding quite cheerful. ‘Here he is!’

Timmy barked loudly and jumped at the boys in welcome. He was very glad to see them, for he had been afraid that they had gone back home. They all went into the living room, where there was an enormous wood fire, looking very cheerful indeed. Julian and Dick fell into the two most comfortable chairs and spread their legs out to the fire.

‘Ha! This is good!’ said Dick. ‘I couldn’t have walked another step. I don’t believe I can even go up the stairs to wash. We’ve walked MILES!’

They told the girls about their day, and when they described the little summer chalet, the two girls listened eagerly.

‘Oh – I wish we’d gone with you,’ said Anne, longingly. ‘Timmy would have been quite all right, wouldn’t he, George? We’ve decided it’s only a skin wound. Actually, you can hardly see it now.’

‘But all the same, I’m going back home tomorrow,’ said George, determinedly. ‘I’m sorry I made such a fuss this morning – but honestly I thought Timmy had been badly bitten. Thank goodness he wasn’t. Still, I’m not risking such a thing again. If I stay on here with him, he’s sure to have those three dogs attacking him sometime or other, and he might be killed. I don’t want to upset your holiday – but I can NOT stay on here with Tim.’

‘All right, old thing,’ said Julian, soothingly. ‘Don’t get so up-in-the-air about it. There – you’ve gone and started your cough again! Do you know, Dick and I haven’t coughed once today!’

‘Nor have I,’ said Anne. ‘The air is marvellous here. I think I ought to go back with George, though, Ju. She’d be miserable all by herself at home.’

‘Listen,’ said Julian. ‘We’ve got an idea, Dick and I – one that means old George won’t have to go home, and . . .’

‘Nothing will make me stop here,’ interrupted George at once. ‘NOTHING!’

‘Give me a chance to tell you what I’ve got up my sleeve,’ protested Julian. ‘It’s about that mountain hut we’ve been to – Dick and I thought it would be a marvellous idea if we could all five of us go and spend our time there – instead of here. We’d be ABSOLUTELY on our own then – the way we like to be!’

‘Oh yes!’ said Anne at once, delighted. They all three looked at George. She smiled suddenly.

‘Yes – that would be fun. I’d like that. I don’t suppose those dogs would come near there. And how heavenly to be on our own!’

‘Mrs Jones said that her son Morgan told her we’re going to have heavy falls of snow!’ said Anne. ‘We could spend all day long on those slopes with our toboggans and skis. Oh, George – what a pity Timmy can’t ski! We’ll have to leave him at the hut when we go off skiing!’

‘Do you suppose Mrs Jones will mind us going off there?’ said Dick.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Anne. ‘She was telling us today that parties of children go there alone in the summer, while their parents stay and have a peaceful time down here. I don’t see why she shouldn’t let us go. We’ll ask her when she comes in with our high tea. I said we wouldn’t have tea and supper – we’d just have one big meal. We didn’t know what time you’d be back – and George and I had such an enormous dinner in the middle of the day that we knew we wouldn’t want tea.’

‘Yes. I’d rather have a big meal now, too,’ said Julian, yawning widely. ‘I’m afraid all I shall want to do afterwards is to go up to bed and fall asleep. I’m marvellously tired. In fact, I could go to sleep this very minute! I suppose you girls have been indoors all day long because of Timmy?’

‘No. We took it in turns to go for a walk without him,’ said Anne. ‘George hasn’t let him put his nose outside the door. Poor Timmy – he just couldn’t understand it, and he whined and whined!’

‘Never mind – he’ll enjoy himself if we can go up to that hut,’ said George, who was very cheerful indeed now. ‘I do hope we can. It would be glorious fun.’

‘Ju – come and wash,’ said Dick, seeing that Julian had his eyes closed already. ‘ Julian! Come and wash, I tell you – you don’t want to miss your meal, do you?’ Julian groaned and dragged himself up the stone stairway. But once he had sluiced himself in cold water he felt much better, and very hungry indeed. So did Dick.

‘We didn’t tell the girls about the funny little creature – what was her name now – Aily! And Dai her dog and Fany the lamb. We mustn’t forget to ask Mrs Jones about them,’ said Julian.

They went downstairs, feeling much fresher and were delighted to see that Mrs Jones had been in and laid the table. They went to see what there was for their high tea.

‘Pork pie – home-made, of course,’ said Dick. ‘And what’s this – golly, it’s a cheese! How enormous! Smell it, Julian – it’s enough to make you start eating straight away! And more of that home-made bread! Can’t we start?’

‘No – there are new-laid boiled eggs to begin with,’ said Anne, with a laugh. ‘And an apple pie and cream to end with. So I hope you really are hungry, you two!’

Mrs Jones came in with a pot of hot tea. She smiled at the boys as she set the big brown teapot down on the table. ‘Have you had a nice day away up on the mountain?’ she said. ‘You look fine, both of you. Did you find the hut all right?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ said Julian. ‘Mrs Jones, it’s a marvellous hut. We . . .’

‘Yes, yes – it’s a good hut,’ said Mrs Jones, ‘and I was sorry that the two girls didn’t go with you, such a fine day as it was, and the dog not really hurt! And to think that the girls want to go back home! I’ve been feeling sad about it all day.’

She really did seem hurt and grieved, and George looked very guilty. Julian patted Mrs Jones on the arm, and spoke comfortingly.

‘Don’t you worry about us, Mrs Jones. I’ve got a fine idea to tell you. What we’d really like is to go and live up at that hut, the five of us – then we’d be out of your way and Timmy would be out of the way of the farm dogs too! Do you think we might do that? Then George wouldn’t have to go home, as she had planned to do.’

‘Well now! To go to that hut in this weather! What an idea!’ said Mrs Jones. ‘You’d be most uncomfortable, with no one to look after you, and see to your wants, and cook for you this cold weather. No, no . . .’

‘We’re used to looking after ourselves,’ said Dick. ‘We’re awfully good at it, Mrs Jones. And, my word, the food you’ve got up there is enough to feed an army! And there are cups and plates and dishes – and knives and forks – and all kinds of bedding . . .’

‘We’d have a smashing time,’ said George, joining in eagerly. ‘I don’t really want to go home, Mrs Jones. It’s so lovely in these mountains – and if the snow comes down, as your Morgan says, we’d be able to have winter sports all on our own!’

‘Oh, do say it’s all right,’ begged Anne. ‘We shall be quite safe and happy there – and we do promise to come down here again if we can’t manage, or if anything goes wrong.’

‘I’ll see that things go all right,’ said Julian, speaking in his most grown-up voice.

‘Well – well, it’s a funny idea,’ said Mrs Jones, still taken aback. ‘I’ll have to talk to my Morgan about it first. Now sit you down and eat your meal. I’ll get my Morgan to decide.’

She went out of the room, shaking her head, her mouth pursed up in disapproval. No fire! No hot meals! No one to ‘manage’ for them. What a dreadful time those children would have up in that hut in this weather!

The five set to work to demolish the good food on the table. George allowed Timmy to sit up on a chair too, and fed him with titbits for a treat. He was perfectly good and very well-mannered indeed.

‘I almost expect him to hand me a plate of something!’ said Anne, with a giggle. ‘Tim, dear – do pass me the salt!’

Timmy put a paw on the table exactly as if he meant to obey Anne, and George hastily made him put it down again! What a meal that was! The pork pie was so good that everyone had two slices, as well as their boiled eggs. Then they started on the cheese, which even Timmy liked. There was very little room indeed for the apple pie that Mrs Jones brought in at the end!

‘My goodness – I forgot that an apple pie was coming,’ said Anne, in dismay, as the old woman walked in with a tray on which was a big apple pie and a jug of cream.

‘Mrs Jones – when we were up at the hut, we saw such a funny little creature,’ said Dick. ‘She said her name was Aily and she had a lamb and . . .’

‘Oh, Aily! That mad little thing!’ said Mrs Jones, picking up the dirty plates. ‘She’s the shepherd’s daughter – a little truant she is, runs off from school, and hides away in the hills with her dog and her lamb. She always has a lamb each year – it follows her about everywhere. They say there isn’t a rabbit hole or a blackberry bush or a bird’s nest that child doesn’t know!’

‘She was singing when we first saw her,’ said Julian. ‘Singing like a bird.’

‘Ah, yes – she has a lovely voice,’ said Mrs Jones. ‘She’s wild as a bird – there’s nothing to be done with her. If she’s scolded she goes off for weeks, no one knows where. Don’t you let her come round that hut now, when you’re there – she might steal from you!’

‘Oh, yes – the hut! Have you spoken to Morgan about it?’ said Dick, eagerly.

‘Yes, I have indeed,’ said Mrs Jones. ‘And he says yes, to let you go. He doesn’t want trouble with the dogs either. He says snow is coming for sure, but you’ll be safe up there and you can all take your toboggans for there’ll be a chance to use them! He’ll help you up with your things.’

‘Oh good! Thanks!’ said Julian, and the others smiled and looked at one another joyfully. ‘Thanks most awfully, Mrs Jones. We’ll go tomorrow after breakfast!’

Tomorrow! After breakfast! Up to that lonely hut on the mountainside, just the Five of them together. What could be better than that?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Off to the little hut

JULIAN AND Dick were so sleepy after their long day in the cold air, and their enormous meal, that they could not keep their eyes open for long.

‘Go to bed, both of you!’ said Anne, seeing them lying tired out in their chairs, when Mrs Jones had cleared away everything.

‘Yes. I think we’d better,’ said Julian, staggering up. ‘Oh, my legs! They’re stiff as sticks! Good night, you two girls, and Timmy. See you tomorrow – if we wake up!’

The two boys stumbled up the stone stairs to bed. George and Anne stayed downstairs, talking and reading. Timmy lay on the hearth rug, listening, his ears twitching towards Anne when she spoke, and then towards George as she answered. This little habit of his always made them laugh.

‘It’s exactly as if he was listening, but too lazy to join in our conversation!’ said Anne. ‘Oh, George – I really am glad you’re not going home tomorrow. It would be the first time you’d ever done a thing like that! I’d just have had to come with you!’

‘Don’t let’s talk about it,’ said George. ‘I feel rather ashamed of making such a fuss now. All the same I shall be terrified if I see any of those dogs again when I’m with Timmy. What a bit of luck the boys went up to that hut today, Anne – we’d never have known about it if they hadn’t.’

‘Yes. It sounds fun,’ said Anne. ‘Don’t let’s be too late to bed, George. It will be quite a pull up the mountainside tomorrow, with all our things!’

George went to the window.

‘It’s snowing hard,’ she said. ‘Just as Morgan said it would. I don’t like him, do you?’

‘Oh – I think he’s all right,’ said Anne. ‘And what a voice he’s got! He nearly made me jump out of my skin when he called his three dogs. He must have the loudest voice in the world!’

‘Timmy – you’re yawning!’ said George, as Timmy opened his mouth widely and made a yawning noise. ‘How’s your neck?’

Timmy was getting rather tired of having his neck examined. He lay still while George had another look at it.

‘Healing beautifully!’ she said. ‘You’ll be quite all right tomorrow. Will you like going off to that hut all by ourselves, Tim?’

Timmy gave her a loving lick and yawned again. Then he got up and trotted over to the door that led to the stone stairs, looking back inquiringly at George.

‘Right. We’re coming,’ said George, laughing, and she and Anne blew out the lamp on the table, and followed Timmy up the stairs. They peeped in at the boys’ room – and saw Julian and Dick absolutely sound asleep, dead to the world!

‘A thunderstorm wouldn’t wake them tonight!’ said Anne. ‘Come on – let’s buck up and get into bed ourselves. We’ve a nice wood fire again, and I shall undress in front of it. Move over, Timmy. I want to stand on the rug.’

In the morning the world was very white indeed! As Morgan had prophesied, the snow had fallen thickly in the night, and everywhere was covered in a thick white blanket, that gleamed and sparkled in the weak January sun.

‘This is something like it!’ said Dick, as he looked out of his bedroom. ‘Get up, Ju – it’s a marvellous morning! Remember, we’ve got to take all our things up to that hut today! Do stir yourself!’

Mrs Jones gave them a fine breakfast – eggs, bacon and sausages.

‘It’s the last hot meal you’ll have, if you’re going up to that hut,’ she said. ‘Though you’ll be able to cook eggs in the little saucepan up there, if you set it on top of the oilstove. And mind you don’t get playing about round that stove when it’s alight, or the whole place might go up in flames!’

‘We’ll be very careful,’ promised Julian. ‘I’ll send anyone back if they upset the stove – yes, I will, so just look out, Timmy!’

‘Woof!’ said Tim, amiably. He was pleasantly excited with all the preparations for going, and ran sniffing from one parcel to another.

The children were not taking all their things, of course, but Mrs Jones had made them pack a complete change of clothes each, besides their warmest night-clothes and dressing-gowns. They had torches too, and plenty of rope for hauling things up and down the hills. And also they had six loaves of new-baked bread, a large cheese, about three dozen eggs and a ham. So they were truly well provided for.

‘And there’s plenty of butter packed in with the loaves,’ said Mrs Jones, ‘and a large pot of cream. I’ll try and send up some milk if the shepherd comes down. He’ll pass the hut when he goes up again. There’s only a quart in the bottle there – but you’ll find plenty of orangeade and lemonade in the hut – and you can boil snow if you want to make cocoa or tea!’

It was quite clear that Mrs Jones had no idea how many times the Five had gone off on their own! They smiled and winked at one another, and took all her advice in good part. She really was so kind, so very concerned about them all. She even packed some bones and dog biscuits for Timmy!

‘Here’s my Morgan now,’ said Mrs Jones, when every single thing had been put in a pile outside the front door, toboggans and skis as well. ‘He’s brought his snow-slide with him, to take all your goods.’

The snow-slide was like a long flat cart with runners instead of wheels – an elongated sleigh. The children piled on to it all the parcels and two suitcases. They were all going to walk up as the snow was not yet too thick. Timmy danced round in great excitement – though both he and George kept a wary eye out for the other dogs, and Timmy did not venture very far from George.

The giantlike Morgan arrived, his breath puffing before him like a smoke-cloud! He nodded at the children.

‘Morning,’ he said, and that was all. He took hold of the ropes at the front of the snow-slide and ran them over his shoulders.

‘I’ll take one,’ said Julian. ‘It’s much too heavy for one person to pull!’

‘Ha!’ said Morgan, scornfully, and walked off with the two ropes over his shoulder. The snow-slide followed easily.

‘Strong as a horse, is my Morgan,’ said old Mrs Jones, proudly.

‘Strong as ten horses!’ said Julian, wishing he was as big and as strong as the broad-shouldered farmer.

George said nothing. She hadn’t yet forgiven the farmer for being scornful about Timmy’s bite the day before. She followed the others, carrying her skis, and waved to kind old Mrs Jones as she stood anxiously watching them leave.

It seemed a long trek up the mountainside, when things had to be pulled or carried! Morgan went first, pulling the big snow-slide easily. Julian went next, pulling a toboggan and carrying his skis. Dick was next with another toboggan and skis, and the girls came last with their skis only. Timmy ran at the front or the back as he liked, enjoying everything.

Morgan said nothing at all. Julian addressed a few polite remarks to him, and received a grunt in reply, but that was all. He looked curiously at the great, strong fellow, wondering about him and his silence. He looked intelligent and even kindly – but he seemed so dour and rough in his manners and behaviour! Oh well – they would soon say goodbye to him and be on their own!

They came at last to the little hut. The girls ran ahead to it, exclaiming in delight. George looked through the windows.

‘Oh – it’s a proper little house inside! Oh, look at those bunks on the walls! And there’s even a carpet on the floor! Quick, Julian, where’s the key?’

‘Morgan’s got it,’ said Julian, and they all stood by and waited while Morgan unlocked the door for them.

‘Thanks so much for helping to bring up our things,’ said Julian, politely. ‘It was very kind of you.’

Morgan grunted, but looked pleased.

‘Shepherd comes by at times,’ he said, in his great deep voice, and the Five felt quite surprised to hear him saying even a short sentence to them! ‘He’ll take messages for you if you want.’

And with that he set off down the hill back to the farm, with enormous swinging steps, like a giant from an old-time tale.

‘He’s peculiar,’ said Anne, looking after him. ‘I don’t know if I like him or not.’

‘What does it matter?’ said Dick. ‘Come on, Anne, old girl, give a hand. There’s plenty to do. What about you and George seeing what blankets and things are in those cupboards, so we can make up some beds for tonight.’

Anne loved that kind of thing, though George didn’t. She would much rather have carried in the things. But she went to the cupboards with Anne, and examined all their contents with much interest.

‘Plenty of rugs and blankets and pillows,’ said Anne. ‘And enough china and cutlery for half a dozen families too! I suppose old Mrs Jones has dozens of people here in the summer! George, I’ll put the food away, if you’ll see to the beds.’

‘Right,’ said George, and went to make up four of the bunk beds. There were six of these altogether, in rows of three – three on one wall, three on another, one above the other. George was soon struggling with blankets and pillows, while Anne set out the food they had brought with them, arranging it neatly on the cupboard shelves. Then she went to look at the stove to see if it had oil in it, for it would be very cold that night.

‘Yes, it’s full,’ she said. ‘I’ll light it tonight, because I expect we’ll be out as long as it’s daylight, won’t we, Dick?’

‘You bet!’ said Dick, unpacking some of the things out of his suitcase. ‘By the way, there’s a little wooden bunker outside, with a can of extra oil and an enamel jug. I suppose the jug’s for fetching water from some spring or other in the summertime – but we can easily melt snow for water. Will you two girls be long, Anne?’

‘No. We’re almost finished,’ said Anne. ‘Do you want something to eat before we go? Or shall we take some bread and ham with us, and have a good meal when we come back?’

‘Oh, take some sandwiches,’ said Julian. ‘I don’t want to stop for a meal. Besides, we can’t be hungry yet. Let’s make sandwiches – and we’ll take some of those apples with us too!’

The sandwiches were quickly made, and the boys filled their pockets with apples. Timmy danced round in delight.

‘You won’t be quite so pleased, Tim, when you find yourself in deep snow!’ said Dick. ‘I wonder if he’ll like travelling down the hill on a toboggan, George!’

‘Oh, he’ll love it!’ said George. ‘Won’t you, Tim? Are we ready? Well, lock the door, Ju, and off we go!’

CHAPTER NINE

A strange tale

THE CHILDREN did not bother about their skis that first day. For one thing the snow was not quite thick or smooth enough for skiing, and for another thing they longed for the swift excitement of tobogganing. Dick took George on his toboggan and Julian took Anne on his. Timmy wouldn’t come on either of them.

‘Race you to the bottom!’ Julian shouted. ‘One, two, three, go!’ And away they went, swishing over the clean white snow at top speed, shouting with laughter.

Julian won easily, because Dick’s toboggan caught on a root or small bush under the snow, which upset it very suddenly. Dick and George were flung headlong into the snow, and sat up, blinking, and spitting out the cold snow from their mouths.

Timmy was terribly excited. He came plunging down the hillside after the toboggans, annoyed at the way his legs went into the snow, barking madly. He was most astonished to see Dick and George fly into the air when their toboggan upset, and pranced round them, licking them and leaping on them in a most aggravating way.

‘Oh, get away, Timmy!’ said Dick, trying to get up, and being knocked down again by the excited dog. ‘Go and knock George over, not me! Call him, George!’

Pulling the toboggans back up the hill was a tiring job – but the swift flight down over the snow was worth all the pullings-up! The four children soon had glowing faces and tingling limbs, and wished they could throw off their coats and scarves!

‘I can’t pull up our toboggan one more time!’ said Anne, at last. ‘I really can’t. You’ll have to pull it up yourself, Julian, if you want to toboggan any more.’

‘Well, I do want to – but my legs will hardly walk up the hill now,’ said Julian, panting. ‘Hey, Dick – Anne and I have had enough. We’ll go up and eat our sandwiches at the top of the slope, where we can watch you.’

The other two soon joined them, and Timmy was glad to sit down too. His long pink tongue hung out of his mouth, and he puffed his white breath out like rolling mist! At first he had been puzzled by what he thought was ‘smoke’ coming out of his mouth so continually, but now, seeing that everyone was apparently puffing it out too, he didn’t worry!

The Five sat at the top of the slope, eating their sandwiches hungrily, very glad of the rest. Julian grinned round at them all.

‘Pity Mother can’t see us now!’ he said. ‘We look marvellous! And nobody’s coughed once. I bet we’ll be stiff tomorrow though!’

Dick was looking across the slope to the opposite hill, rising steeply up a mile or so away.

‘There’s that building I thought I saw yesterday,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that a chimney sticking up?’

‘You’ve got sharp eyes!’ said George. ‘Nobody could surely see a building as far away as that, when the snow is on it!’

‘Did we bring the field-glasses?’ asked Julian. ‘Where are they? We could soon find out if there’s a house there or not, if we look through those.’

‘I put them into a cupboard,’ said Anne, getting up. ‘Ooooh, I’m stiff! I’ll just go and get them.’

She soon came back with the glasses and handed them to Dick. He put them to his eyes and adjusted them, till they were properly focused on the faraway hill opposite.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I was right. It is a building – and I’m pretty sure it must be Old Towers, too. You know – the place we went to by mistake two nights ago when we lost our way.’

‘Let’s have a look,’ said Anne. ‘I think I might recognise it. I caught a glimpse of the towers when we swung round a corner on the way up Old Towers Hill.’ She put the glasses to her eyes and gazed through them.

‘Yes. I’m sure that’s the place,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t it odd – that big rude notice on the gate – and that fiercely barking dog – and nobody about! How lonely the old lady must be living there all by herself!’

As they sat there, nibbling their apples, Timmy suddenly began to bark. He stood up, turning his head towards the path that ran higher up the hill.

‘Perhaps it’s Aily, that funny child, coming,’ said Julian, hopefully. But it wasn’t. It was a small, wiry-looking woman, a shawl over her head, neatly dressed, walking swiftly.

She didn’t seem very surprised to see the children. She stopped and said ‘Good day’.

‘You’ll be the boys my Aily was telling me of last night,’ she said. ‘Are you staying in the Jones’s hut?’

‘Yes,’ said Julian. ‘We were staying at the farm first – but our dog didn’t get on with the others, so we’ve come up here. It’s fine. Marvellous view, too!’

‘If you see that Aily of mine, tell her not to stay out tonight,’ said the woman, wrapping her shawl more tightly round her. ‘Her and her lamb! She’s as mad as the old lady in the house over there!’ and she pointed in the direction of Old Towers.

‘Oh – do you know anything about that old place?’ asked Julian, at once. ‘We went to it by mistake, and . . .’

‘Well, you didn’t get into it, I’ll be bound,’ said Aily’s mother. ‘Notices on the gate and all! And to think I used to go up there three times a week, and never anything but kindness shown me! And now old Mrs Thomas, she won’t see a soul except those friends of her son’s. Poor old lady – she’s out of her mind, so they say. Must be – or she’d see me, who worked for her for years!’

This was all very interesting.

‘Why do they say “Keep out” on the gates?’ asked Julian. ‘They’ve a fierce dog there, too.’

‘Ah well, young man, you see some of the old lady’s friends would like to know what’s going on,’ said Aily’s mother. ‘But nobody can do a thing. It’s a strange place now – with noises at night – and mists – and shimmerings – and . . .’

Julian began to think that was an old wives’ tale, made up because the villagers were angry that they were now kept out of the big old house. He smiled.

‘Oh, you may smile, young man,’ said the woman, sounding cross. ‘But ever since last October, there have been strange goings-on there. And what’s more, vans have been there in the dead of night. What for, I’d like to know? Well, if you ask me, I reckon they’ve been taking away the poor old thing’s belongings – furniture and pictures and such. Poor Mrs Thomas – she was sweet and kind, and now I don’t know what’s happened to her!’

There were tears in the woman’s eyes, and she hastily brushed them away.

‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this – you’ll be scared sleeping here alone at night now.’

‘No – no, we shan’t,’ Julian assured her, amused that she should think that a village tale might frighten them. ‘Tell us about Aily. Isn’t she frozen, going about with so few clothes on?’

‘That child! She’s a one, I tell you,’ said Aily’s mother. ‘Runs about the hills like a wild thing – plays truant from school – goes to see her father – he’s a shepherd, up there where the sheep are – and doesn’t come home at nights. You tell her there’s a good scolding waiting for her at home if she doesn’t come back tonight. She’s like her father, she is – likes to be alone all the time – talks to the lambs and the dogs as if they were human – but never a word to me!’

The children began to feel uncomfortable, and wished they hadn’t spoken to the grumbling gossipy woman. Julian got up.

‘Well – if we see Aily, we’ll certainly tell her to go home – but not about the scolding, because I expect she wouldn’t go home then,’ he said. ‘If you pass by the farmhouse will you be kind enough to step in and tell Mrs Jones we are quite all right, and enjoying ourselves very much? Thank you!’

The woman nodded her head, muttered something, and went off down the hill, walking as swiftly as before.

‘She said some funny things,’ said Dick, staring after her. ‘Was that a silly village tale she told us – or do you suppose there’s something in it, Ju?’

‘Oh – a village tale of course!’ said Julian, sensing that Anne hadn’t liked it much. ‘What a strange family – a shepherd who spends all his time on the hills – a child who wanders about the countryside with a lamb and a dog – and a mother who stops and tells such angry tales to strangers!’

‘It’s getting dark,’ said Dick. ‘I vote we go in and light the oil-stove and get the hut warm – and light the table lamp too. It’ll be cosy in there. I’m feeling a bit chilled now, sitting out here so long.’

‘Well, don’t begin to cough,’ said Julian, ‘or you’ll set us all off! Indoors, Tim! Come on!’

Soon they were all in the hut, the oil-stove giving out a lovely warmth and glow, and the table lamp shining brightly.

‘We’ll play a game, shall we?’ said Dick. ‘And have a sort of high tea later. Let’s have a silly game – snap, or something!’

So they sat down to play – and soon Dick’s cards had all been ‘snapped’ by the others. He yawned and went to the window, looking out into the darkness that hid all the snowy hills. Then he stood tense for a moment, staring in surprise. He spoke to the others without turning.

‘Quick! Come here, all of you! Tell me what you make of this! Did you ever see such an extraordinary thing! QUICK!’

CHAPTER TEN

In the middle of the night

‘WHAT IS it, Dick? What can you see?’ cried George, putting down her cards as soon as she heard Dick’s call. Julian rushed to stand beside him at once, imagining all sorts of things. Anne went too, with Timmy leaping excitedly. They all stared out of the window, Anne half afraid.

‘It’s gone!’ cried Dick, in disappointment.

‘But what was it?’ asked George.

‘I don’t know. It was over there – on the opposite slope, where Old Towers is,’ said Dick. ‘I don’t know how to describe it – it was like a – like a rainbow – no, not quite like that – how can I describe it?’

‘Try,’ said Julian, excited.

‘Well – let me think – you know how, on a very hot day, all the air shimmers, don’t you?’ said Dick. ‘Well, that’s what I saw on the hill over there – rising high into the sky and then disappearing. A shimmering!’

‘What colour?’ asked Anne, amazed.

‘I don’t know – all colours it seemed,’ said Dick. ‘I don’t quite know how to explain – it’s something I’ve never seen before. It just came suddenly – and the shimmering rose all the way up into the sky, and then disappeared. That’s all.’

‘Well – that’s what Aily’s mother said – mists – and shimmerings,’ said Julian, remembering. ‘Gosh – so that wasn’t just a tale she told us. There was some truth in it. But what in the wide world can this shimmering be?’

‘Had we better go back to the farm and tell them there?’ asked Anne, hopefully, not at all wanting to spend the night in the hut now.

‘No! They’ve probably heard the tale already,’ said Julian. ‘Besides – this is exciting. We might be able to find out something more about it. We can easily watch Old Towers from here – it’s one of the very few places where anyone can look straight across at it. As the crow flies, it’s less than a mile away – though it’s many miles by road.’

They all gazed towards the opposite hill again, though they couldn’t see it, of course, hoping something would happen. But nothing did happen. The sky was pitch black, for heavy clouds had come up – and the distant hill couldn’t be seen.

‘Well – I’m tired of looking out in the darkness,’ said Anne, turning away. ‘Let’s get on with our game.’

‘Right,’ said Julian, and they all sat down again, Dick watching the others play, but occasionally glancing out of the window into the black darkness there.

Anne was out of the game next, and she got up and went to the food cupboard.

‘I think I’ll start preparing a meal,’ she said. ‘We’ll have boiled eggs, shall we, to begin with – and I’ll boil a kettle too and make some cocoa – or would you rather have tea?’

‘Cocoa,’ said everyone, and Anne got out the tin.

‘I’ll want some snow, for the kettle,’ she said.

‘Well, there’s some nice clean snow just behind the hut,’ said Dick. ‘Oh wait, Anne – you won’t like going out in the dark now, will you? I’ll get it! If you hear me yell, you’ll know there’s something going on!’

Timmy went out with him, much to Anne’s relief. She held the kettle, waiting for the snow – and then suddenly there came a loud yell!

‘Hey! Who’s that?’

Anne let go the kettle in fright, and it dropped on the floor with a crash, making the other two jump violently. Julian rushed to the door.

‘Dick! What’s up?’

Dick appeared at the doorway, grinning, with Timmy beside him.

‘Nothing much. Sorry if I frightened you. But I was just scraping up some snow in the basin here, when something rushed at me, and butted me!’

‘Whatever was it?’ said George, startled. ‘And why didn’t Timmy bark?’

‘Because he knew it was harmless, I suppose,’ said Dick, grinning aggravatingly. ‘Here, Anne – here’s the snow for the kettle.’

‘Dick! Don’t be so annoying!’ said George. ‘Who was out there?’

‘Well – I couldn’t really see much, because I’d put my torch down to scrape up the snow,’ said Dick. ‘But I rather think it was Fany the lamb! It was gone before I had time to call out. I got quite a shock!’

‘Fany the lamb!’ said Julian. ‘Well – that must mean that little Aily is about. What can she be doing out in the darkness at this time of night?’

He went to the door and called:

‘Aily! Aily, if you’re there, come in here and we’ll give you something to eat.’

But there was no answering call. Nobody appeared out of the darkness, no lamb came frisking up.

Timmy stood by Julian, looking out into the darkness, his ears pricked. He had been surprised when the tiny lamb trotted up out of the darkness, and had had half a mind to bark. But who would bark at a lamb? Not Timmy!

Julian shut the door.

‘If that kid is out there on this frosty night, with only the few clothes she had on yesterday, I should think she’ll catch her death of cold,’ he said. ‘Cheer up, Anne – and for goodness’ sake, don’t be scared if you hear a noise outside or see a little face looking in at the window. It will only be that mad little Aily!’

‘I don’t want to see any faces looking in at the window, whether it’s Aily or not,’ said Anne, putting snow into the kettle. ‘Honestly I think she must be mad, wandering about these snowy hills alone at night. I don’t wonder her mother was cross.’

It wasn’t long before they were all sitting round the small table eating a very nice meal. Boiled eggs, laid that morning, cheese and new bread and butter, and a jar of home-made jam they found in the cupboard.

They drank steaming hot cups of cocoa, into each of which Anne had ladled a spoonful of cream.

‘No King or Queen in all the world could possibly have enjoyed their meal more than I have,’ said Dick. ‘Anne, shall I take the milk and cream out into the snow – they’ll keep for ages out there.’

‘All right. But for goodness’ sake don’t put them where the lamb can get them – if it was a lamb that butted you,’ said Anne, giving them to Dick. ‘And don’t yell again if you can help it!’

However, Dick didn’t see anything this time, nor did anything come up and butt him. He was quite disappointed!

‘I’ll wash the plates and cups out in the snow tomorrow,’ said Anne. ‘How long are you all going to stay up? It’s awfully early, I know – but I’m half asleep already! The air up here is so very strong!’

‘All right. We’ll all pack up,’ said Julian. ‘You take those two bunks over there, girls, and we’ll have these. Shall we have the little oil-stove on, or not?’

‘Yes,’ said Dick. ‘This place will be an ice-box if we don’t!’

‘I’d like it on too,’ said Anne. ‘What with shimmerings and buttings and yellings I feel I’d like a little light in the room, even if it only comes from an oil-stove!’

‘Well – I know you don’t believe my “shimmerings”,’ said Dick. ‘But I swear they’re true! And what’s more, I bet we’ll all see them before we leave this hut! Well – good night, girls – I’m for bed!’

In a few minutes’ time the bunks were creaking as the four children settled into them. They were not as comfortable as beds, but quite good. George’s bunk creaked more than anyone’s.

‘I suppose you’ve got Timmy in your bunk, making it creak like that!’ said Anne sleepily. ‘Well, I’m glad I’m in the bunk above yours, George. I bet Tim falls out in the night!’

One by one they fell asleep. The oil-stove burned steadily. It was turned rather low, and shadows quivered on the ceiling and walls. And then something made Timmy’s ears prick up as he lay asleep on George’s feet. First one ear pricked up – and then the other – and suddenly Timmy sat up straight and growled in his throat. Nobody awoke – they were all too sound asleep.

Timmy growled again and again – and then he barked sharply. ‘WOOF!’

Everyone awoke at once. Timmy barked again, and George put out a hand to him.

‘Sh! What’s the matter? Is there someone about, Tim?’

‘What’s up, do you think?’ said Julian, from his bunk on the other side of the room. Nobody could hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Why was Timmy barking, then?

The oil-stove was still burning, its light throwing a small round pattern of yellow on the ceiling. It made a small cosy noise as it burnt, a kind of bubbling. There was nothing else to be heard at all.

‘It must be someone prowling outside,’ said Dick at last. ‘Shall we let Timmy go and see?’

‘Well – let’s lie down and see if he barks again,’ said Julian. ‘For all we know a mouse may have run across the floor. Tim would bark at that just as soon as he would bark at an elephant!’

‘Yes. You’re right,’ said George. ‘All right – we’ll lie down again. Timmy’s lying down too. Now, for goodness’ sake, Tim, if it is a mouse somewhere, do use your common sense, and let it play if it wants to – and don’t wake us up.’

Timmy licked her face. He kept his ears well up for a while. The others all went to sleep except Anne. She lay with her eyes open, wondering what had startled Timmy. She didn’t believe it was a mouse!

So it was the wakeful Anne who heard the noise when it came again. She thought at first that it was just a noise in her ears, the kind she often heard when she lay down to sleep, and the room was quiet. But then she felt certain that it wasn’t in her ears – it was a real noise. But what a peculiar one!

‘It’s a kind of deep, deep, grumbling noise,’ thought Anne, sitting up. Timmy gave a little whine as if to say he was hearing something again too. ‘A sort of thunder-rumble, but far below me, not above!’

It grew a little louder, and Timmy growled.

‘It’s all right, Tim,’ whispered Anne. ‘It must be far-off thunder, I think!’

But then the shuddering began! This was so astonishing that Anne didn’t know what to make of it. At first she thought it was herself, beginning to shiver with the cold. But no – even her bunk vibrated to her fingers when she touched the wooden side!

Then she really was frightened. She called out loudly.

‘Julian! Dick! Wake up – something odd is happening. Do wake up!’

And Timmy began to bark again. Woof, woof, woof! WOOF, WOOF!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Strange happenings

EVERYONE AWOKE at Anne’s call. Julian thought he was in bed, and leapt out, forgetting that he was in the top bunk. He landed with a crash on the floor, shaken and alarmed.

‘Oh, Ju! You forgot you were in the top bunk!’ said George, half scared and half amused. ‘Are you hurt? Anne, whatever is the matter? Why did you call out? Did you see something?’

‘No. I heard something – and felt something!’ said Anne, glad that the others were awake. ‘So did Timmy. But it’s all gone now.’

‘Yes, but what was it?’ asked Julian, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bunk, and rubbing his knee, which had struck the floor when he fell.

‘It was a . . . a . . . well . . . a kind of very, very deep rumbling,’ said Anne. ‘A deep-down rumbling – very far away. Not like thunder up in the sky. More like a thunderstorm underground! And then there was a . . . shuddering! I felt the edge of my bunk and it seemed to be sort of – well – quivering. I can’t quite explain it. I was awfully scared.’

‘Sounds like a small earthquake,’ said Dick, wondering if Anne had dreamt all this. ‘Anyway – you can’t hear or feel it now, can you? You’re sure you didn’t dream all this, Anne?’

‘Quite sure!’ said Anne. ‘I . . .’ And just at that very moment it all began again! First the curious grumbling, muffled, and ‘deep-down’, as Anne had described it – then the equally strange ‘shuddering’. It crept through their bodies till they were all shuddering a little too, and could not stop.

‘It’s as if we were shivering in every part of us,’ said Dick, in wonder. ‘Sort of vibrating as if we had tiny dynamo engines working inside us.’

‘Yes! You’ve described it exactly!’ said George. ‘Goodness – when I put my hand on Timmy I can feel him doing the “shudders” – and it’s just like putting my hand on something working by electricity! You know the sort of small vibrations you feel then.’

‘It’s gone!’ said Dick, just as George finished speaking. ‘I’m not “shuddering” any more. It suddenly stopped. And I can’t hear that grumbling, far-off noise now. Can you?’

Everyone agreed that both the noise and the shuddering had stopped. What in the wide world could it be?

‘It must be something to do with that curious “shimmering” I saw in the sky over Old Towers Hill tonight,’ said Dick, remembering. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and look out of the window that faces the hill opposite, and see if it’s there again.’

He leapt out of his bunk and ran to the window. At once he gave a loud cry. ‘Come and look! Whew! Just come and look!’

All the others, Timmy as well, rushed to the window at once, Timmy standing on his hind legs to see. Certainly there was something weird to look at!

Over the hill opposite hung a mist – a curious glowing mist, that stood out in the pitch black darkness of the night! It swirled heavily, not lightly as a mist usually does.

‘Look at that!’ said Anne, in wonder. ‘What a strange colour – not red – not yellow – not orange. What colour is it?’

‘It’s not a shade I’ve ever seen before,’ said Julian, rather solemnly. ‘I call this jolly strange. What’s happening here? No wonder Aily’s mother told us those stories – there’s really something in them! We’d better make a few inquiries tomorrow.’

‘It’s funny that both the shimmering I saw and that cloud too are over Old Towers Hill,’ said Dick. ‘You don’t think it’s something that’s happening in Old Towers House, do you?’

‘No. Of course not,’ said Julian. ‘What could happen there that would make us feel the effects here, in this hut – that strange shuddering, for instance? And how in the world could we hear a rumbling from a mile or so away, if it were not thunder? And that certainly wasn’t.’

‘The mist is going,’ said Anne. ‘Look – it’s changing colour – no, it’s just going darker. It’s gone!’

They stood looking out for a while longer, and then Julian felt Anne shivering violently beside him.

‘You’re frozen!’ he said. ‘Come on, back to bed. You don’t want to get another awful cold and cough. My word – this is all very peculiar. But I expect there’s a sensible explanation – probably there are mines around here, and work is being done at night as well as day.’

‘We’ll find out,’ said Dick, and they all climbed thankfully back into their bunks, feeling very cold. Julian turned up the stove a little more to heat the room better.

George cuddled Timmy and was soon as warm as toast, but the others lay awake, trying to get their cold hands and feet warm again. Julian felt very puzzled. So there was a lot of truth in that woman’s peculiar tale, after all!

They awoke late the next morning, for they had been tired out with their exertions the day before, and with the excitements in the night. Julian leapt out of his bunk when he found that it was actually ten to nine, and dressed quickly, calling to the others. He went out to get some snow to put into the kettle.

Soon breakfast was ready, for Anne was next to get up, and she began quickly to prepare some food. Boiled eggs and ham, bread, butter and jam – and good hot cocoa again. Soon they were all eating and chattering, talking over the happenings of the night, which somehow didn’t seem nearly so remarkable now that daylight was everywhere, brilliant with snow, and the sun trying to come from behind the clouds.

As they sat round the table, eating and talking, Timmy ran to the door and began to bark. ‘Now what’s up?’ said Dick. Then a face looked in at the window!

It was a remarkable face, old, lined and wrinkled yet curiously young-looking too. The eyes were as blue as a summer day. It was a man’s face, with a long, raggedy beard and a moustache.

‘Gracious – he looks like one of the old prophets out of the Bible,’ said Anne, really startled. ‘Who is he?’

‘The shepherd, I expect,’ said Julian, going to the door. ‘We’ll ask him in for a cup of cocoa. Maybe he can answer a few questions for us!’

He opened the door. ‘Are you the shepherd?’ he said. ‘Come in. We’re having breakfast and we can give you some too, if you like.’

The shepherd came in, and smiled, making many more wrinkles appear on his weather-beaten face. Julian wondered if he spoke English, or only Welsh. He was a fine-looking fellow, tall and straight, and obviously much younger than he looked.

‘You are kind,’ he said, standing there with his crook, and Anne suddenly felt that there must have been men just like this all through the history of the world, ever since there had been sheep on the hills, and men to watch them.

The shepherd spoke slowly, as English words were not easy for him. ‘You want to send – to send – words – to the farm?’ he said, in the lilting Welsh voice so pleasant to hear.

‘Oh yes – please take a message to the farm,’ said Julian, handing him some bread and butter, and a dish of cheese. ‘Just say we’re fine, and all is well.’

‘All is well, all is well,’ repeated the shepherd, and refused the bread and cheese. ‘No. I won’t eat now. But I would like a drink, please, for the morning is cold.’

‘Shepherd,’ said Julian, ‘did you hear curious noises last night – rumblings and grumblings – and did you feel shudderings and see a coloured mist over the hill there?’

The shepherd listened intently, trying to follow the strange English words. He understood that Julian was asking him something about the opposite hill. He took a sip of his cocoa, and looked over to the hill. ‘It has always been a strange hill,’ he said slowly, pronouncing some of his words oddly, so that they were hard to understand. ‘My grandad told me a big dog lay below, growling for food, and my nan said witches lived there and made their spells, and – and the smock rose up . . .’

‘Smock? What does he mean by that?’ said George.

‘He means “smoke” I should think,’ said Julian. ‘Don’t interrupt. Let him talk. This is very interesting.’

‘The smock rose up, and we saw it in the sky,’ went on the shepherd, his forehead wrinkled with the effort of using words he was not familiar with. ‘And it comes still, young ones, it comes still! The big dog growls, the witches cook in their pots, and the smock rises.’

‘We heard the big dog growling last night, and saw the witches’ smoke,’ said Anne, quite under the spell of the lilting voice of the old shepherd.

The man looked at her and smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. But the dog is worse now and the witches are more evil – more wicked, much more wicked . . .’

‘More wicked?’ said Julian. ‘How?’

The shepherd shook his head. ‘I am not clever,’ he said. ‘I know few things – my sheep, and the wind and the sky – and I know too that the hill is wicked – yes, more wicked. You must not go near it, young ones! For there the plough will not plough the fields, the spade will not dig, and neither will the fork.’

This somehow sounded so much like a piece out of the Old Testament that the children felt quite solemn. What a strange and impressive old man!

‘He thinks long, long thoughts all the hours he sits watching his sheep,’ thought Julian, gazing at him. ‘No wonder he says extraordinary things. But what does he mean about the plough not ploughing the fields, I wonder?’

The shepherd put his cup down on the table. ‘I go now,’ he said, ‘and I take your words to Mrs Jones. And thank you for your kindness. Good day!’

He went out with great dignity, and the children saw him striding past the window, his beard being blown backwards by the wind.

‘Well!’ said Dick. ‘What a character! I almost felt that I was in church, listening to a preacher. I liked him, didn’t you? But what did he mean about ploughs not ploughing and spades not digging? That’s nonsense!’

‘Well – it may not be,’ said Julian. ‘After all, we know that our car wouldn’t go down that hill fast – and you remember that Aily’s mother – the shepherd’s wife – said that the postman had to leave his bicycle at the bottom of the hill – even that wouldn’t work! So it’s quite likely that in the old days ploughs went too heavily and too slowly to plough properly, and that spades were the same.’

‘But why?’ said Anne, puzzled. ‘Surely you don’t really believe these things? I know our own car went crawling down – but that might have been because something went wrong in its works for a little while!’

‘Anne doesn’t want to believe in ploughs and spades and forks that won’t do their jobs!’ said Dick, teasingly. ‘Come on – let’s forget the weird happenings last night and put on our skis. I feel pretty stiff after yesterday – but a bit of skiing down those slopes will do me good. What about it?’

‘Yes! Come on!’ said Julian. ‘Buck up with the clearing away, and we can get out the skis. Hurry!’

CHAPTER TWELVE

Out on the hills

TIMMY DIDN’T find skiing any fun at all, because, not being fitted with skis, he couldn’t keep up with the others, when they tore down the hill at top speed!

At first he plunged after them, but when he jumped into a great soft heap of snow, and buried himself completely, he decided that this kind of winter sport was not for him! He clambered out of the snow-heap, shook the snow off his coat, and stared forlornly after the shouting children.

They had skied before, and were quite good at it. The hill down which they went was very long, and had a fine slope. It ran smoothly into the upward slope of the next hill, on which Old Towers House had been built.

Julian did a marvellous run down, and went swinging on up the opposite hill. He called to the others.

‘I say – what about going up to the top of this hill, because we’re already part of the way up – and skiing down, and partly up our own slope again. It would save time, and give us a jolly good second ski-run.’

All but Anne thought this was a very good idea. She said nothing, and Dick looked at her.

‘She’s scared of going up Old Towers Hill!’ he said. ‘Are you afraid of the big, big dog, Anne, who lies under it and growls at night, or of the lank-haired witches that sit on the hill and make their smoky spells?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Anne, cross with Dick for reading her thoughts. She didn’t believe in either dogs or witches, but somehow she did not like that hill! ‘I’m coming too, of course!’

So she toiled up the opposite hill with the others, quite ready to enjoy the lovely run down, and to end halfway up their own hill.

‘Look – you can see Old Towers quite clearly now,’ said George to Julian. She was right. There, not far off, was the great old house, set with towers, built cosily into the side of the steep hill.

They stood still and looked at it. ‘We can even see down into a few of the rooms,’ said Julian. ‘I wonder if the old lady is still there – Mrs Thomas – the one that Aily’s mother used to go and work for?’

‘Poor old thing – I’m sorry for her if she is,’ said George. ‘Seeing nobody – keeping out all her friends! I wish we could go and inquire at the house for something – pretend we’ve lost our way, and snoop round a bit. But there’s that fierce dog.’

‘Yes – we don’t want any more fights,’ said Julian. ‘Now – we’re almost at the top. We’ll wait for the others and then have a race. What a wonderful slope!’

‘Julian, look – is that someone at one of the tower windows – the one to the right?’ said George suddenly, as they stood waiting, looking down at the big old house some way off below them. Julian looked at the tower at once, just in time to see someone disappear.

‘Yes. It was someone!’ he said. ‘Someone staring at us, I think. I expect no one ever comes near this hill, and it must have been a surprise to look out and see us! Did you make out if it was a man or a woman?’

‘A woman, I think,’ said George. ‘Could it have been old Mrs Thomas, do you think? Oh, Ju – you don’t suppose she’s being kept prisoner in that tower, do you – while her horrid son and his friends gradually steal everything? You know we heard that vans went up to the house in the middle of the night.’

‘Hallo, you two!’ said Dick, labouring up with Anne. ‘What a climb! Still, the run down will be worth it. I simply must have a rest first, though!’

‘Dick, George and I thought we saw someone at the tower window there – the one on the right,’ said Julian. ‘When we get back we’ll get our field-glasses and train them on to that window. We might possibly see some sign of someone there!’

Dick and Anne stared hard at the tower window – and as they looked, someone drew the curtains swiftly across!

‘There – we’ve been seen – and we’re not going to be encouraged to look at the old place!’ said Julian. ‘No wonder there are strange stories about it! Come on, now – let’s start our run down!’

They set off together, each taking a different line. Whooooooosh! The wind blew in their faces as they flew down the white slope, gasping in delight at their speed. Julian and Anne slid swiftly all the way down the first slope and halfway up the next – but Dick and George were not so fortunate. They both caught their skis in something, and shot into the air and then down into the soft snow. They lay there breathless, almost dazed with the sudden stoppage.

‘Whew!’ said Dick, at last. ‘What a shock! Is that you, George? Are you all right?’

‘I think so,’ said George. ‘One ankle feels a bit funny – no, I think it’s all right! Hallo, here’s Tim! He must have seen us fall, and come rushing down to help. It’s all right, Tim. We’re not hurt. It’s all part of the fun!’

As they lay there, getting their breath, halfway down the first slope, a loud voice shouted in the distance.

‘Hey there! You keep off this slope!’

Dick sat up straight at once. He saw a tall fellow wading through the snow towards them, coming from the direction of Old Towers, looking angry.

‘We’re only skiing!’ shouted back Dick. ‘And we’re not doing any harm! Who are you?’

‘I’m the caretaker,’ shouted the man, nodding his head towards Old Towers. ‘This field belongs to the house. So keep off it!’

‘We’ll come and ask permission of the owners,’ yelled Dick, standing up, thinking this might be a good way of having a look at the house.

‘You can’t. There’s no one else here but me!’ shouted back the man. ‘I’m the caretaker, I tell you. I’ll set my dog on you all, if you don’t do what I say!’

‘That’s funny,’ said Dick to George, as the man waded back through the snow. ‘He says he’s the only one in the house – and yet we saw someone in the right-hand tower only a few minutes ago! The caretaker wouldn’t have had time to have got here from the tower – so he isn’t the only one in the house. There is someone in the tower as well. Odd, isn’t it?’

George had held Timmy by the collar all the time the man was speaking. Timmy had growled at the man’s angry voice, and George was afraid he might fly at him. Then, if the other dog appeared, there might be a fight! That would be dreadful! Timmy might get bitten again.

She and Dick tried their skis to see if they were still properly fixed after their fall – and then went gliding smoothly off again. The others were waiting for them at the top of the hill.

‘Who was that man? What was he shouting about?’ demanded Julian. ‘Did he actually come from Old Towers?’

‘Yes – and a surly fellow he was, too,’ said Dick. ‘He ordered us to keep off that slope – said it belonged to Old Towers and he was the caretaker – and when we said we’d go and ask permission from the owners, he said he was the only one in the house! But we know different.’

‘Yes. We do,’ said Julian, puzzled. ‘Why should it matter to anyone if we ski down that particular slope? Are they afraid we might see something in the house – as we did! And why tell a lie and say there was no one else there? Did he sound like a caretaker?’

‘Well – he didn’t sound Welsh!’ said George. ‘And I should have thought that any owners would have chosen someone trustworthy from the village, someone Welsh, wouldn’t you? This is all rather mysterious!’

‘And if you add to it all the strange noises and things, it’s extremely curious,’ said Dick. ‘In fact, I feel it might be worth inquiring into!’

‘No,’ said Anne. ‘Don’t let’s spoil our holiday. It’s such a short one.’

‘Well – I don’t see how we can inquire into the matter,’ said George. ‘I’m certainly not going to that house while the dog is there – and there’s no other way of making inquiries – even if they would get us anywhere, which I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t!’

‘I say – do you know that it’s almost one o’clock?’ said Anne, pleased to change the subject. ‘Isn’t anybody hungry?’

‘Yes – I’m ravenous!’ said Julian. ‘But as I thought it was only about half past eleven, I didn’t like to mention it! Let’s go in and have dinner. I vote we finish up that ham!’

They went to the hut, and there, standing in the snow outside it, were two quart bottles of milk, and a large parcel which Timmy at once went to, wagging his tail eagerly. He gave a little bark.

‘He says it’s meat, so it must be for him,’ said George with a laugh.

Julian tore off the paper and laughed too. ‘Well, Timmy’s right,’ he said. ‘It’s a big piece of cold roast pork. No ham for me then. I’ll have some of this!’

‘Pity we haven’t any apple sauce,’ said Dick. ‘I love it with pork.’

‘Well, if you like to wait while I make some on the stove, with a few of the apples we brought . . .’ began Anne. But the others refused at once. No one was going to wait one minute longer for their meal than they could help, apple sauce or not!

It was a merry meal, and certainly the pork was good. Timmy had a piece and thought that George was very mean not to give him the rest of the joint when they had finished with it.

‘Oh no, Tim!’ said George, as he put an inquiring paw on her knee. ‘Certainly not. We’re going to finish it up tomorrow! You shall have the bone then.’

‘There’s more snow coming,’ said Julian, looking out of the window. ‘I say – who brought the meat and the milk here, do you think?’

‘The shepherd, I should imagine, on his way back,’ said Dick. ‘Jolly nice of him. I wonder where that kid Aily is? I’d be scared of her getting caught in the snow, and having to sleep on the hills in it.’

‘I expect she’ll look after herself all right and her lamb and dog!’ said Julian. ‘I’d like to see her again – but unless she’s hungry, I don’t expect we shall!’

‘Talk of an angel and hear the rustle of her wings!’ said Anne. ‘Here she is!’ And sure enough, there was Aily, looking in at the window, holding up her lamb for him to take a peep too!

‘Let’s get her in and feed her – and ask her if she knows who lives in Old Towers,’ said George. ‘She might have seen someone in that right-hand tower too, as we did!’

‘Right. I’ll call her in,’ said Julian, going to the door. ‘She might know something – always scouring round about the countryside!’

He was right! Aily did know something – something that interested everyone very much!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Aily is surprising

AILY WAS not shy this time. She did not run away when Julian opened the door. She was still dressed in the same few clothes, but her face glowed, and she certainly didn’t look cold!

‘Hallo, Aily!’ said Julian. ‘Come along in. We’re having dinner – and there is plenty for you!’

Her dog ran right up to the door and into the room, when he smelt the dinner there. Timmy looked most surprised, and gave a very small growl.

‘No, Tim, no – he’s your guest,’ said George. ‘Remember your manners, please!’

The small dog wagged his tail vigorously. ‘There, Timmy! He’s telling you not to be afraid of him; he won’t hurt you!’ said Anne, which made everyone laugh. Timmy wagged his tail vigorously, too, and the pair were friends at once.

Aily came in then, the lamb in her arms, in case Timmy might object to him. But Timmy didn’t. He was very interested in the little creature, and when Aily set him down and let him run about the room, Timmy ran sniffing after him, his tail still wagging fast.

Anne offered the untidy little girl some of the meat but she shook her head and pointed at the cheese. ‘Aily like,’ she said, and looked on in delight as Anne cut her a generous piece. She sat down on the floor to eat it, and the lamb came along and nibbled at it too. It really was a dear little thing.

‘Fany bach!’ said the child, and kissed his little nose.

‘“Bach” is Welsh for “little”, isn’t it?’ said Anne. She touched Aily on the arm. ‘Aily bach!’ she said, and the child smiled a sudden sweet smile at her.

‘Where did you sleep last night, Aily?’ asked George. ‘Your mother was looking for you.’

But she had spoken too quickly, and Aily didn’t understand. George repeated her words slowly.

Aily nodded. ‘In the hay,’ she said. ‘Down at Magga Farm.’

‘Aily, listen – who lives at Old Towers?’ said Julian, speaking as slowly and clearly as he could.

‘Many people,’ said Aily, pointing to the cheese, to show that she wanted another piece. ‘Big men, little men. Big dog, too. More big than him!’ and she pointed at Timmy.

The others looked at one another in surprise. Many men! Whatever were they doing at Old Towers?

‘And yet the caretaker fellow said he was the only one there!’ said George.

‘Aily, listen – is there – an – old – lady – there?’ asked Julian, slowly. ‘An – old – lady?’

Aily nodded her head. ‘Yes – one old lady – I see her high up in tower – sometimes she does not see Aily. Aily hide.’

‘Where do you hide?’ asked Dick, curiously.

‘Aily won’t tell, will never tell,’ said the child, looking through half-closed eyes at Dick, as if she kept her secrets behind them.

‘Did you see the old lady when you were in the fields?’ asked Julian. Aily considered this, and shook her head.

‘Well, where then?’ asked Julian. ‘Look – you shall have some of this chocolate if you can tell me.’ He held the bar of chocolate just out of her reach. She looked at it with bright eyes. Obviously chocolate was a rare treat for her. She reached out suddenly for it, but Julian was too quick for her.

‘No. You tell me what I ask you,’ he said. ‘ Then you shall have the chocolate.’

Aily suddenly hit out with her hands and gave him a good punch in the chest. He laughed and took both her small hands in his big one.

‘No, Aily, no. I am your friend. You do not hit a friend.’

‘I know where you were, when you saw the old lady!’ said Dick, slyly. ‘Aily – you were in the grounds – in the garden!’

‘How do you know?’ cried Aily. She dragged her hands out of Julian’s hand, and leapt to her feet, facing Dick, looking furious and frightened.

‘Here – don’t get so upset,’ said Dick, astonished.

‘How do you know?’ demanded Aily again. ‘You haven’t told anyone?’

‘Of course I’ve told no one,’ said Dick, who had only just thought of the idea that very moment. ‘Aha! So you get into the grounds of Old Towers, do you? How do you get in?’

‘Aily won’t tell,’ said the little girl, and suddenly burst into tears. Anne put her arm round her to comfort her, but the child pushed it roughly away. ‘He – Dai went there, not me, not Aily. Poor Dai – big dog bark, wuff-wuff, like that – and . . . and . . .’

‘And so you went in to get Dai, didn’t you?’ said Dick. ‘Good little Aily, brave Aily.’

The little girl rubbed her tears away with a grubby hand, and left black streaks down her cheeks. She smiled at Dick, and nodded. ‘Good Aily!’ she repeated, and took the little dog on her knee and hugged him. ‘Poor Dai bach!’

‘So she got into the grounds, did she?’ said Julian, in a low voice to Dick. ‘I wonder how? Through the hedge perhaps. Aily – we want to see this old lady. Can we get through the hedge round the garden?’

‘No,’ said Aily, shaking her head vigorously. ‘There’s a fence – a big, high fence that bites.’

Everyone laughed at the idea of a biting fence. But George guessed what she meant. ‘An electric fence!’ she said. ‘So that’s what they’ve put round. My word – the place is like a fort! Locked gates, a fierce dog, an electric fence!’

‘How on earth did Aily get in, then?’ said Dick. ‘Aily – have you seen this old woman many times? Has she seen you?’

Aily didn’t understand and he had to ask his question again, more simply. The child nodded her head.

‘Aily see her many times – up high – and one time she see Aily. She throw out papers – little bits – out of the window.’

‘Aily – did you pick them up?’ said Julian, sitting up straight at once. ‘Was there writing on them?’ Everyone waited for Aily’s answers. She nodded her head.

‘Yes. Writings like they do at school – pen writings.’

‘Did you read any of them?’ asked Dick.

Aily suddenly wore a hunted expression. She shook her head – then she nodded it. ‘Yes, Aily read them,’ she said. ‘They say “Good morning, Aily. How are you, Aily?”’

‘Does the old woman know you then?’ asked Dick, surprised.

‘No, she doesn’t know Aily – only Aily’s mam,’ said the child. ‘She wrote on her papers “Aily, you good girl. Aily, you very good!”’

‘She’s not telling the truth now,’ said Dick, noticing that the child would not look at them when she spoke. ‘I wonder why?’

‘I think I know,’ said Anne. She took a piece of paper and wrote on it clearly. ‘Good morning, Aily.’ Then she showed it to the child. ‘Read that, Aily,’ she said.

But Aily couldn’t! She had no idea what was written on the paper.

‘She can’t even read,’ said Anne. ‘And she was ashamed, so she pretended she could. Never mind, Aily! Listen – have you any of those bits of paper that the old woman dropped?’

Aily felt about in her few clothes, and at last produced a piece of paper that looked as if it had been torn from the top of a page in a book. She gave it to Dick.

All the four bent over it, reading what was written there, in small, rather illegible writing.

‘I want help. I am a prisoner here, in my own house, while terrible things go on. They have killed my son. Help me, help me! Bronwen Thomas.’

‘Good gracious!’ said Julian, very startled. ‘I say – this is extraordinary, isn’t it! Do you think we ought to show it to the police?’

‘Well – there is probably only one policeman shared between three or four of these little places,’ said Dick. ‘And there’s another thing – the old lady might be off her head, you know. What she says may not be true.’

‘How can we possibly find out if it is or not?’ said George.

Dick turned to Aily. ‘Aily – we want to see the old lady – we want to take her something nice to eat – she is all by herself, she is sad. Will you show us the way into the grounds?’

‘No,’ said Aily, shaking her head vigorously. ‘Big dog there – dog with teeth like this!’ And she bared her own small white teeth and snarled, much to Timmy’s astonishment. The children laughed.

‘Well – we can’t make her tell us,’ said Julian. ‘And anyway, even if we got into the grounds, that dog would be there – and I don’t fancy him, somehow.’

‘Aily show you way into house,’ suddenly said the small girl, much to everyone’s astonishment. They all stared at her.

‘Into the house!’ said Dick. ‘But – you’d have to show us the way into the grounds first if we are to get into the house, Aily!’

‘No,’ said Aily, shaking her head. ‘Aily show you way to house. Aily do that. No big dog there!’

Just then Timmy began to bark, and someone came by the door, looking in as she passed. It was Aily’s mother, who had again been to take some things to her shepherd husband. She saw Aily sitting on the floor and gave an angry shout. Then standing at the door she poured out a long string of Welsh words which the children didn’t understand. In a great fright Aily ran straight to a cupboard, her dog and lamb with her.

But it was no good. Her mother stormed into the hut and dragged Aily out, shaking her well. Timmy growled, but Aily’s little dog was as frightened as she was, and the lamb bleated pitifully in the child’s arms.

‘I’m taking Aily home!’ said her angry mother, glaring at the four children as if she thought they were responsible for the child’s keeping away from home. ‘I’ll scold her well!’

And out she went, holding the protesting child firmly by one arm. The children could do nothing. After all, she was Aily’s mother, and the child really was a little monkey, the way she wandered round the countryside.

‘You know – I think we’d better go down to the farm and tell Morgan what we know,’ said Julian, making up his mind. ‘I really do. If this thing is serious – and if the old lady is really a prisoner – I don’t see how we can do a thing – but Morgan might be able to. He’d know the police for one thing. Come on – let’s go down now. We can stay at the farm for the night if it gets dark. Buck up – let’s go straight away!’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Morgan is surprising too

GEORGE DID not particularly want to go down to the farm, as she was afraid of Timmy meeting the farm dogs again, and being attacked. Julian saw her doubtful face and understood.

‘Would you like to stay here by yourself with Timmy, George, till we come back?’ he said. ‘You should be all right with Tim – he’ll look after you. The only thing is, will you be scared if any more tremblings and shudderings and shimmerings come again tonight?’

‘I’ll stay with George,’ said Anne. ‘It would really be best if you two boys went alone. I’m a bit tired and I don’t think I could go as fast as you’d want to.’

‘Right. Then Dick and I will go together, and leave you two girls here with Timmy,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Dick. If we hurry, we might get back before dark.’

They set off together, and went swiftly down the winding mountain path, still white with snow. They were glad when at last they saw the farmhouse. A light was already in the kitchen, and looked very welcoming!

They went in at the front door, and made their way to the big kitchen, where Mrs Jones was washing up at the sink. She turned in astonishment when they came in, stamping the snow from their shoes.

‘Well now – this is a surprise!’ she said, drying her hands on a towel. ‘Is there something wrong? Where are the girls?’

‘They’re up at the hut – they’re fine,’ said Julian.

‘You have come for something more to eat?’ said Mrs Jones, feeling certain this was the reason for their sudden visit.

‘No, thank you – we’ve got plenty!’ said Julian. ‘We just wondered if we could talk to your son – Morgan. ‘We – well, we’ve got something to tell him. Something rather urgent.’

‘Well now – what could that be?’ said Mrs Jones, all curiosity at once. ‘Let me see – yes, Morgan will be up at the big barn.’ She pointed out of the window, where a big and picturesque old barn stood, outlined against the evening sky. ‘It is there you will find my Morgan. Will you be staying the night, now? You’ll like supper – a good supper?’

‘Well – yes, we should,’ said Julian, suddenly realising that they had missed out tea altogether. ‘Thanks awfully. We’ll just go and find Morgan.’

They made their way out to the big old barn. Morgan’s three dogs at once ran out when they heard strange footsteps, and growled. But they recognised the boys immediately and leapt round them, barking.

The giantlike Morgan came out to see what the dogs were barking about. He was surprised to find the two boys there, fondling the dogs.

‘Hey?’ he said, questioningly. ‘Anything wrong?’

‘We think there is,’ said Julian. ‘May we tell you about it?’

Morgan took them into the almost dark barn. He had been raking it over and he went on with his raking as Julian began his tale.

‘It’s about Old Towers,’ said Julian, and Morgan stopped his raking at once. But he went on again almost immediately, listening without a word.

Julian told him his story. He told him about the rumbling noises, the shimmering in the sky that Dick had seen, the ‘shuddering’ they had all felt – then about the old woman they had seen in the tower – and how Aily had told of the pieces of paper, and shown them one, which proved that old Mrs Thomas was a prisoner in her own house.

For the first time Morgan spoke. ‘And where is this paper?’ he asked in his deep bass voice.

Julian produced it and handed it over. Morgan lit a lamp to look at it, for it was now practically dark.

He read it and put it into his pocket. ‘I’d rather like it back,’ said Julian, surprised. ‘Unless you want it to show the police. What do you think about it all? And is there anything we can do? I don’t like to think of . . .’

‘I will tell you what you are to do,’ said Morgan. ‘You are to leave it to me, Morgan Jones. You are children, you know nothing. This matter is not for children. I can tell you that. You must go back to the hut, and you must forget all you have heard and all you have seen. And if Aily comes again you must bring her down here to me, and I will talk to her.’

His voice was so hard and determined that the two boys were startled and shocked.

‘But, Morgan!’ said Julian. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything about this . . . go to the police, or . . .’

‘I have told you this is not a matter for children,’ said Morgan. ‘I will say no more. You will go back to the hut, and you will say nothing to anyone. If you are not willing to do this, you will go home tomorrow.’

With that the giant of a man put his rake over his shoulder, and left the two boys alone in the barn. ‘What do you make of that?’ said Julian, very angry. ‘Come on – we’ll go back to the hut. I’m not going to the farm for supper. I don’t feel as though I want to meet that rude, dour Morgan again this evening!’

Feeling angry and disappointed the boys made their way out of the barn, towards the path that led up to the hill. It was almost dark now, and Julian felt in his pocket for his torch.

‘Blow! I didn’t bring it with me!’ he said. ‘Have you one, Dick?’

Dick hadn’t one either, and as neither of them felt like making their way up the mountainside in the darkness Julian decided to go back to the farm, slip up to his bedroom there, and find the extra torch he had put in one of the drawers.

‘Come along,’ he said to Dick. ‘We’ll try and get in and out without seeing Morgan or old Mrs Jones.’

They went quietly back to the farmhouse, keeping a lookout for Morgan. Julian slipped up the stone stairway to the bedroom he had been given a few nights before, and rummaged in the drawer for his torch. Good – there it was!

He went downstairs again – and bumped into old Mrs Jones at the bottom. She gave a little scream.

‘Oh, it’s you, Julian bach! Now what have you been telling my Morgan to put him into such a temper! Enough to turn the milk sour his face is! Wait now, while I get you some supper. Would you like some pork and . . .’

‘Well – we’ve decided to go back to the hut, after all,’ said Julian, hoping that the kind old woman wouldn’t be upset. ‘The girls are alone, you know – and it’s dark now.’

‘Oh yes, yes – then you shall go back!’ said Mrs Jones. ‘Wait for one minute – you shall have some of my new bread, and some more pie. Wait now.’

The boys stood in the doorway, waiting, hoping that Morgan would not come by. They suddenly heard him in the distance, yelling at a dog, in his loud, really fierce voice.

‘Taking it out on the dogs, I suppose,’ said Julian to Dick. ‘Gosh – I wouldn’t like to come up against him, if I was one of his men! Strong giant that he is, he could take on a dozen men if he wanted to – or a score of dogs!’

Mrs Jones came up with a net bag full of food. ‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘Take care of those girls – and don’t go near Morgan now. He’s in a fine temper, is my Morgan, and he is not nice to hear!’

The two boys thoroughly agreed. Morgan was not nice to hear. They were glad when they were away up the path, out of reach of his enormous voice!

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Julian. ‘No help to be got from this quarter! And we’re forbidden to do anything at all about the matter. As if we were kids!’

‘He kept telling us we were only children,’ said Dick, sounding disgusted. ‘I can’t make it out. Ju, WHY was he so annoyed about it all? Didn’t he believe us?’

‘Oh yes – he believed us all right,’ said Julian. ‘If you ask me, I think he knows much more than we were able to tell him. There’s some kind of racket going on at Old Towers – something peculiar and underhand – and Morgan is in it! That’s why he shut us up and told us not to interfere, and to forget all about it! He’s in whatever’s going on, I’m sure of it.’

Dick whistled. ‘My word! So that’s why he was so angry. He thought we might be putting a spoke in his wheel. And of course the last thing he would want us to do would be to go to the police! Well – whatever do we do next, Ju?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll have to talk it over with the girls,’ said Julian, worried. ‘This would crop up just when we’re all set for a jolly holiday!’

‘Julian, what do you think is going on at Old Towers?’ asked Dick, puzzled. ‘I mean – it isn’t only a question of locking up an old lady in a tower – and selling off her goods and taking the money. It’s all the other things too – the rumblings and shudderings and that strange mist.’

‘Well – apparently those things have been going on for some time,’ said Julian. ‘They may have nothing whatever to do with what Morgan is mixed up in which is, I’m sure, to do with robbing the old lady. In fact, those old tales may be a very good way of keeping people away from the place. In these country places people are much more afraid of strange happenings than townspeople are.’

‘It all sounds very convincing when you put it like that,’ said Dick. ‘But somehow I don’t feel convinced. I just can’t help feeling there’s something strange about it all – something we don’t know!’

They fell silent after that, walking one behind the other on the mountain path, seeing the big black stones looming up one after the other in the light of Julian’s torch. It seemed a long, long way in the dark, much longer than in the daylight.

But at last they saw the light in the window of the hut. Thank goodness! They were both very hungry now, and were glad that Mrs Jones had presented them with more food. They could really tuck in.

Timmy barked as soon as they came near, and George let him out of the door. She knew by his bark that it was the boys coming back.

‘Oh, we are glad you came back, instead of staying down at the farm!’ cried Anne. ‘What happened? Is Morgan going to the police?’

‘No,’ said Julian. ‘He was angry. He told us not to interfere. He took that bit of paper with the message on, and never gave it back to us. We think he’s mixed up with whatever is going on!’

‘Very well then,’ said George at once. ‘ We’ll take up the matter ourselves! We’ll find out what’s going on and MOST CERTAINLY we’ll get poor old Mrs Thomas out of that tower. I don’t know how – but we’ll do it! Won’t we, Timmy?’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘What’s up, Tim?’

THE FOUR children sat and talked for a long time, sitting round the little oil-stove, eating a good supper. What would be the best thing to do? It was all very well for George to flare up and say they would see to things, they would rescue the old lady from the tower – but how could they even begin to do anything? For one thing they didn’t know how to get into the house! No one was going to risk a battle with that fierce dog!

‘If only that kid Aily would help us!’ said Julian, at last. ‘She’s really our only hope. It’s no good going to the police – it would take us ages to go down to the village at the bottom of the mountain, and find out where the nearest police station is – and we’d never get a village policeman to believe our tale!’

‘I wonder the villagers don’t do something about Old Towers,’ said Dick, puzzled. ‘I mean – all those peculiar vibrations we felt last night – and the noises we heard – and the light in the sky when that mist hung over the place . . .’

‘Yes – but I suppose all those things are seen and heard up here in the mountains much more clearly than down in the valley below,’ said Anne, sensibly. ‘I don’t expect that weird shuddering would be felt in the valley nor would the rumblings be heard, and even the strange mist over Old Towers might not be seen.’

‘That’s true,’ said Julian. ‘I never thought of that. Yes – we up here would see a lot . . . and possibly the shepherd higher up on the hills would, as well. I dare say the farm down below us would see something, too . . . Well, we know they did, because of Morgan’s behaviour to us tonight! He obviously knew what we were talking about!’

‘He’s also obviously hand in glove with the men in that place – the big men and little men that Aily spoke of. Gosh – I wish she’d show us how to get into that house. How does she get in? I’m blowed if I can think of any way. With that electric fence all round, it sounds impossible.’

‘The fence that bites!’ said George, with a laugh. ‘Fancy that child touching the fence and getting a shock. She’s an extraordinary creature, isn’t she – quite wild!’

‘I hope she didn’t get told off,’ said Anne. ‘She is a naughty little truant, of course – but you can’t help liking her. Does anybody want more cheese? And there are still some apples left – or I could open a tin of pears.’

‘I vote for the pears,’ said Dick. ‘I feel like something really sweet. I say – this stay up here is turning out rather exciting, isn’t it?’

‘We always seem to run into trouble,’ said Anne, going to the cupboard to fetch the tin of pears.

‘Give it a better name, Anne, old thing,’ said Dick. ‘Adventure! That’s what we’re always running into. Some people do, you know – they just can’t help it. And we’re those sort of people. Jolly good thing too – it makes life exciting!’

Timmy suddenly began to bark, and everyone started up at once. Now what was up?

‘Let Timmy out,’ said Dick. ‘With all these funny goings-on I feel as if it would be just as well to let Tim examine anyone coming by here at night!’

‘Right,’ said George, and went to the door – but as she was about to open it, she heard a dog barking outside, just beyond the hut. She swung round.

‘I’m not letting Timmy out! That might be Morgan with his dogs! I seem to recognise that deep bark!’

‘Someone’s coming by,’ said Anne, half scared. ‘My word – it is Morgan!’

So it was. He passed by the window, and they saw his great shoulders and head bent against the wind as he went on up the hill. He didn’t even glance in at them – but the three dogs, who were with him, began to bark furiously as they sensed another dog in the hut. Timmy barked back furiously too.

Then all was quiet. Morgan had gone by and the dogs with him. ‘Whew – I’m glad you didn’t let Tim out as I suggested,’ said Dick. ‘He’d have been torn to pieces!’

‘Where do you suppose Morgan’s going?’ she asked Anne. ‘It’s funny he should be going up the hill – not even in the direction of Old Towers!’

‘Probably going to talk to the shepherd,’ said Julian. ‘He’s farther up the hill with his sheep. I say – I wonder if he’s in this too!’

‘Oh no,’ said Anne. ‘He’s good – I could feel it in my bones. I can’t imagine him mixed up with a gang of any sort.’

Nobody could, of course. They had all liked the shepherd. But why else would Morgan be going up to him at this time of night?

‘He might be going to tell him that we know too much,’ suggested Julian. ‘He might ask him to keep an eye on us.’

‘Or he might be going to complain of Aily, and her doings inside the grounds of Old Towers,’ said Dick. ‘Goodness – do you suppose that kid will get into trouble because we told Morgan about her – and gave him the bit of paper she found?’

They all stared at one another in dismay. Anne nodded soberly. ‘Yes – that’s it, of course. Aily will certainly get into trouble over this – oh, why did we think of telling Morgan what we knew? Poor little Aily!’

They all felt uncomfortable about Aily. They liked the wild, otherworldly little creature with her pet lamb and little dog. Now what would happen to her thanks to them?

None of them felt like playing cards just then. They sat and talked, wondering if they would hear Morgan coming back. They knew Timmy would bark if he did.

Sure enough he began to bark about half past eight, and made them all jump. ‘That will be Morgan coming back,’ said Julian, and they watched the window to see if his head and shoulders would pass by again. But they didn’t. Neither did any dog bark outside.

Then George saw that Timmy was sitting with his ears pricked up, and his head on one side. Why? And if he could really hear something, why didn’t he bark again? She was puzzled.

‘Look at Tim,’ she said. ‘He’s heard something – and yet he’s not barking. And he doesn’t look very worried either. What’s up, Tim?’

Timmy took no notice. He sat there listening intently, still with his head on one side. What could he hear? It was most tantalising to the others, because not one of them could hear anything at all. The countryside seemed to be absolutely quiet at that moment.

Then suddenly Tim jumped up and barked joyfully! He ran to the door and whined, scraping at the bottom of it with his paw. He looked back at George and barked again, as if to say ‘Buck up! Open the door!’

‘Well!’ said Dick, in surprise. ‘What’s up, Timmy? Has your best friend come to call? Shall we open the door, Julian?’

‘I’ll go,’ said Julian, and went to open the door cautiously. Timmy leapt out at once, barking and whining.

‘There’s nobody here,’ said Julian, astonished. ‘Nobody at all! Hey, Tim, what’s all the fuss about? Give me that torch, Dick, will you? I’ll go out after him and see what the excitement is.’

Out he went, and flashed the torch around to find Timmy. Ah – there he was, scraping at the little wooden bunker that held the oil-cans and the big enamel jug. Julian was astonished.

‘Whatever’s come over you, Tim?’ he said. ‘There’s nothing here in this bunker – look, I’ll lift the lid so that you can peep inside and see, silly dog!’

He lifted up the lid, and shone his torch inside, to show Timmy that it was empty.

But it wasn’t! Julian almost let the lid drop down in his surprise! Someone was there – someone small and half-frozen! It was Aily!

‘Aily!’ said Julian, hardly believing his eyes. ‘What on earth – Aily – what are you doing here?’

Aily blinked up at him, looking scared to death. She clutched the lamb and the dog, and didn’t say a word. Julian saw that she was shivering, and crying bitterly.

‘Poor little Aily bach!’ he said, using the only Welsh word he knew. ‘Come into the hut – we’ll get you warm and make you better.’

The child shook her head and clutched her animals closer. But Julian was not going to leave her there in the little oil-bunker on that cold night! He lifted her up, animals and all, and cuddled her. Aily strove to get free but his arms were strong and held her close.

George’s voice came impatiently from the hut. ‘Ju! Tim! Where are you? Have you found anything?’

‘Yes,’ called back Julian. ‘We have. We’re bringing it along – it’s quite a surprise!’

He carried the shivering child into the hut, and the others stared in the utmost astonishment. Aily! A cold, forlorn and miserable little Aily, pale and shivering! And the lamb and dog too!

‘Bring her near the stove,’ said Anne, and stroked the child’s thin arm. ‘Poor Aily!’

Julian tried to set her down, and the animals as well, but she clung to him. She sensed that he was good and kind and strong, and his arms were very comforting. Julian sat down on a chair, still holding the little creature closely. The dog and lamb slid off his knee and ran sniffing round the room.

‘She was in the oil-bunker out there – she and the lamb and dog,’ he said. ‘All cuddled up together. Partly hiding, I should think, and partly for shelter. Maybe she’s slept there before, with these two. Isn’t she a poor little mite? She seems very unhappy. Let’s give her something to eat.’

‘I’ll make some hot cocoa,’ said Anne. ‘George, get some bread and butter and cheese for her – and hadn’t we better get the lamb and dog something too? What do you give lambs?’

‘Milk out of a bottle,’ said Dick. ‘But we haven’t got a feeding-bottle! I dare say it will lap milk. Good gracious – the things that happen here!’

Aily felt warm and comforted in Julian’s arms. She lay there like a little animal, too cold and tired to be scared. Julian was glad to hold her and comfort her. Poor little thing – what had made her come this long way so late at night?

‘She must have gone home with her mother,’ he said, watching the little dog hobnobbing with a delighted Timmy. ‘And probably got a good telling-off, and was shut up somewhere. And then my guess is that Morgan went down to see if she was there, and to scold her, and tell her mother to be sure and not let her out, and . . .’

‘Morgan!’ repeated Aily, sitting up in fear, looking all round as if he might be there. ‘Morgan! No! No!’

‘It’s all right, little thing,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll look after you. Morgan shan’t get you!’

‘See?’ he said to the others. ‘I bet I’m right! It was he who went and scared her – as soon as he was gone, I expect she escaped from her mother’s house and came up here to hide. That horrible fellow! If he shouted at her as he shouted at us, she’d be scared stiff. I bet he was afraid she’d go and give more of the game away unless she was shut up – might even show us the way into the old house over on the opposite hill!’

Timmy suddenly gave a bark – but not a joyful one this time! Anne cried out at once, ‘That may be Morgan coming back! Hide Aily, for goodness’ sake – or he’ll drag her out of here and take her back with him! Quick – where shall we hide her?’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Aily changes her mind

AILY LEAPT out of Julian’s arms as quickly and surely as a cat, when she heard that it might be Morgan coming. She looked round the room like a hunted thing, and then darted to the bunk beds. With an amazing leap, she was up on one of the top ones in a trice, and pulled a rug over her. She lay absolutely still. The lamb looked up in surprise and bleated.

Then it too leapt up the bunks, as sure-footed as a goat, and cuddled down with its little mistress. Only Dai the dog was left below, whining miserably. ‘Gosh!’ said Dick amazed at these incredibly sudden happenings. ‘Look at that! Did you ever see such leaping! Shut up barking, Tim. We want to hear if Morgan is coming. Ju – where shall we hide Aily’s dog? He mustn’t be seen – or heard either!’

Julian lifted the dog up to the top bunk and put him with the other two there. ‘That’s about the only place where he’ll keep quiet!’ he said. ‘Aily – lie quite still till we tell you everything is safe.’

There was no reply from the bunk – not a word or a bark or a bleat. Then Timmy began to bark loudly again, and ran to the door.

‘I’m going to lock the door,’ said Julian. ‘I’m not having Morgan and his dogs in here, hunting for Aily! My guess is that he knows she’s escaped from her mother’s – or maybe she ran off when he scolded her – and thinks she went to her father, the old shepherd! He’s got to get hold of her, to stop her from spreading what she knows!’

‘Well – for goodness’ sake don’t let those dogs in here!’ said George, desperately. ‘I can hear them barking away in the distance.’

‘Quick – let’s sit round the table with the cards, and pretend to be playing a game!’ said Dick, snatching the cards from a shelf. ‘Then if Morgan looks in, he’ll think everything is normal – and won’t guess we’ve got Aily here. I bet he’ll be sly enough to try and peep in without us seeing him – hoping to spot Aily if we’ve got her!’

They sat round the table, and Dick dealt out the cards. Anne’s hands were trembling, and George felt a bit weak at the knees. Anne kept dropping her cards, and Dick laughed at her.

‘Butterfingers! Cheer up – Morgan won’t eat you! Now – if I suddenly say “What ho!” you’ll know I can see Morgan peeping in at the window, and you must laugh and play like anything. See?’

Dick was the one facing the window, and he kept a sharp eye on it as they played snap. There was no sound of dogs barking now, though Tim sat by the door, his ears cocked, as if he could hear something.

‘Snap!’ said Julian, and gathered up the cards. They went on playing.

‘Snap! I say, don’t grab like that – you’ve almost broken my nail!’

‘Snap! I said it first!’

‘What ho!’ said Dick, and that put everyone on their guard at once. They went on playing, but without giving much attention to the game now. What could Dick see?

Dick could see quite a lot. He could see a shadowy face some way from the window, looking in – yes, it was Morgan all right.’

‘What ho!’ said Dick again, to warn the others that there was still danger. ‘WHAT HO!’

Morgan’s face had now come quite near to the window. He evidently thought that no one saw him, and that they were all too engrossed in their game to notice anything else. His eyes swept the room from corner to corner. Then his face disappeared.

‘He’s gone from the window,’ said Dick, in a low voice. ‘But go on playing. He may come to the door.’

KNOCK! KNOCK!

‘Yes – there he is,’ said Dick. ‘Ju – you take charge now.’

‘Who’s there?’ yelled Julian.

‘Morgan. Let me in,’ said Morgan’s deep, growling voice.

‘No – we’ve got our dog here, and we don’t want him set on again,’ said Julian, determined not to let Morgan in at any cost.

Morgan turned the handle – but the door was locked. He growled again.

‘Sorry! But we can’t unlock it!’ shouted Julian. ‘Our dog might rush out and bite you. He’s growling like anything already!’

‘Bark, Tim,’ said George, in a low voice, and Timmy obligingly barked the place down!

Morgan gave up. ‘If you see Aily, send her home,’ he said. ‘She’s gone again, and her mam’s worried. I’ve been looking for her this cold night.’

‘Right!’ called Julian. ‘If she comes we’ll give her a bed here.’

‘No. You send her home,’ shouted Morgan. ‘And pay heed to what I told you down at the barn, or it will be the worse for all of us!’

‘For all of us! I like that!’ said Dick, in disgust. ‘It will certainly be the worse for him and his friends when the secret’s out! Awful fellow! Has he gone, Tim?’

Timmy came away from the door and lay down peacefully. He gave a little bark as if to say ‘All clear!’

When the dogs began to bark right away in the distance Tim took no notice. ‘That means they’re going down the hill with Morgan, back to the farm,’ said George, thankfully. ‘We can get Aily down now, and give her something to eat.’

She went to the bunk. ‘Aily!’ she called, ‘Morgan is gone. Gone right away! Come down and have a meal. We will give the lamb some milk and your dog some meat and biscuits!’

Aily’s head peered cautiously over the side of the little bunk bed. With a leap she was down on the floor, as lightly as the lamb itself, which followed at once, landing squarely on its four tiny hooves. The little dog had to be lifted out – he was much too scared to jump!

To everyone’s amusement, Aily ran straight to Julian, and held up her arms to be taken into his. She felt safe with this big, kind boy. He sat down with her on his knees and she cuddled up to him like a kitten.

George put some bread and butter and cheese on the table in front of her, and Anne put down a dish of milk for the lamb, which lapped it greedily but most untidily. The dog tried to get the milk too, but soon went to the dish of cut-up meat and biscuits put down by Anne.

‘There – the Aily-family is fed,’ she said. ‘My word – what an excitement all this is! Julian, don’t let Aily gobble like that – she’ll be sick. I never did see anyone eat so quickly. She can’t have had anything since the bit of cheese we gave her this afternoon!’

Aily snuggled back into Julian’s arms contentedly, when she had eaten every scrap of her meal. She looked up at him, wanting to please him.

‘Aily tell how to get into big, big house,’ she said suddenly, taking everyone completely by surprise. Julian looked down at her. He had the dog on his knee now too, though he would not allow the lamb to climb on as well.

‘Aily tell me?’ he said gravely. ‘Good little Aily bach!’

Aily began to try and tell him. ‘Big, big hole,’ she began. ‘Down, down, down . . .’

‘Where’s this big hole?’ asked Julian.

‘High up,’ said Aily. ‘Down it goes down . . .’

‘But where is it?’ asked Julian again.

Aily went off into a long stream of Welsh and the children listened helplessly. How maddening to have Aily willing to tell them her secret – and then not be able to follow what she said.

‘Good little Aily,’ said Julian, when she came to a stop – at last. ‘Where is this big, big hole?’

Aily gazed at him in reproach. ‘Aily tell you, tell you, tell you!’ she said.

‘Yes, I know – but I don’t understand Welsh,’ said Julian, gently, despairing of trying to make the child understand. ‘Where is this big hole – that’s all I want to know.’

Aily stared at him. Then she smiled. ‘Aily show,’ she said, and slipped of his knee. ‘Aily show! Come!’

‘Good gracious! Not now,’ said Julian. ‘Not in all this snow and darkness. No, Aily – tomorrow – in the morning – not now!’

Aily took a look out of the window into the darkness. She nodded. ‘Not now. In the morning, yes? Aily show in the morning.’

‘Well, thank goodness that’s settled!’ said Julian. ‘I’d dearly love to see this big, big hole, whatever it is, now, straight away – but we’d only get lost on these hills in the dark. We’ll look forward to it tomorrow!’

‘Good!’ said Dick, yawning. ‘I must say that I think that’s best too. What a bit of luck that Aily’s so grateful to you, Ju! I believe she’d do anything in the world for you now.’

‘I believe she would too, funny little creature,’ said Julian, looking at Aily as she curled up on the rug near the stove, with her lamb and dog beside her. ‘How could Morgan scare such a harmless little thing? He’s a brute!’

‘Jolly good thing he didn’t see her when he looked in,’ said George. ‘He’d probably have broken the door down! One blow of his fist and it would have cracked from top to bottom!’

Everyone laughed. ‘Well – good thing it didn’t come to that!’ said Julian. ‘Now then, let’s get to bed. We may have quite an exciting day tomorrow!’

‘I hope we manage to get to that poor old woman in her tower,’ said Anne. ‘That’s the most important thing to do. Aily, you can sleep in that topmost bunk, where you hid. I’ll give you some rugs, and a blanket and a pillow.’

It wasn’t long before the hut was quiet and peaceful, with all five children in their bunks, and Timmy with George. The lamb and the little dog were with Aily. Julian looked out from his bunk and smiled. What a collection of people and animals in the hut tonight! Well – he was quite glad there were two dogs!

No one woke in the night except George. She felt Timmy stir and sat up, resting on her elbow. But he didn’t bark. He gave her a small lick, and sat with her, listening.

The strange rumbling noise was coming again – and then the ‘shuddering’, though not so strongly as before. George felt the wooden edge of her bunk – it vibrated as if machinery was in the room below, shaking everything a little.

She leant out of her bunk and looked out of the window. Her eyes widened as she saw what Dick had seen the other night – the ‘shimmering’ in the sky. She could think of no other name for that strange quivering that rose and rose and finally ended very high up indeed, seeming to lose itself in the stars that were now shining brightly.

George didn’t wake the others. As soon as the weird happenings stopped, she lay down again. Perhaps tomorrow they would know what caused such strange things – yes, tomorrow would be very exciting!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The ‘big, big hole’

NEXT MORNING everyone was awake early. They had slept well, and were full of beans – and excited to think that an adventure lay ahead. To get into that old house, with its many secrets, would be marvellous!

Aily followed Julian about the room like a little dog. She wanted to have her breakfast on his knee, just as she had her supper the night before, and he let her. He was ready to do anything she wanted – if only she would show them the way into Old Towers!

‘We’d better set off pretty soon,’ said Anne, looking out of the window. ‘It’s snowing pretty fast again – we don’t want to get lost!’

‘No. That’s true. If Aily is going to take us across country, we shan’t have the faintest idea where we’re going in this heavy snow!’ said Julian, rather anxiously.

‘I’ll just clear up a bit, then we’ll go, shall we?’ said Anne. ‘Do we take any food with us, Ju?’

‘We certainly do – all of us,’ said Julian, at once. ‘Goodness knows what time we’ll get back to this hut. George, you make sandwiches with Anne, will you? And put in some bars of chocolate too, and some apples if there are any left.’

‘And for pity’s sake, let’s remember our torches,’ said Dick.

Aily watched while the sandwiches were made, and scraped up the bits that fell on the table to give to Dai, her small dog. The lamb frisked about, quite at home, getting into everyone’s way. But nobody minded it – it was such a charming little long-leggitty creature!

At last all the sandwiches were made and put into two bags. The hut was cleared up and tidied, and the children got into their outdoor clothes.

‘I think it would be easiest to toboggan down the slope, and halfway up Old Towers’ slope,’ said Julian, looking out into the snow. ‘It would take us ages to walk – and it’s no good skiing, because Aily hasn’t any skis – and couldn’t use them if she had!’

‘Oh yes – let’s take the toboggans!’ said George, pleased. ‘What do we do with the lamb? Leave it here? And must we take Dai the dog, too?’

However, that was not for them to settle! Aily absolutely refused to go without her lamb and dog. She gathered them up into her arms, looking mutinous, when Julian suggested they should be left in the warm hut. Neither would she allow herself to be wrapped up warmly – and only consented to wear a scarf and a woollen hat because they happened to be exactly the same as Julian was wearing!

They set off at last. The snow was still falling, and Julian felt seriously doubtful whether they would be able to find their way down the hill and up the other slope without losing their sense of direction.

The toboggans were rather crowded! Julian and Dick were on the first one, with Aily and the lamb between them, and Anne and George were on the second one, with Timmy and Dai between them. George was at the front, and Anne had the awkward job of hanging on to both the dogs and keeping her balance too!

‘I know we shall all roll off,’ she said to George. ‘Good gracious – I half wish we had waited a bit! The snow is falling very fast now!’

‘Good thing!’ called Julian. ‘No one will spot us when we are near Old Towers – they won’t be able to see a thing through this snow!’

Julian’s toboggan shot off down the snowy slope. It gathered speed, and the boys gasped in delight at the pace. Aily clung to Julian’s back, half frightened, and the lamb stared with astonished eyes, not daring to move from its place, squashed in between Aily and Julian!

Whoooooooosh! Down the slope to the bottom, and up the opposite slope, gradually slowing down! Julian’s toboggan came to a stop, and then, not far behind, came George’s, slowing down too. George got out and dragged her toboggan over to Julian.

‘Well,’ she said, her face glowing, ‘what do we do now? Wasn’t that a wonderful run?’

‘Wonderful!’ said Julian. ‘I only wish we could have a few more! Did you like that, Aily?’

‘No,’ said Aily, pulling her woollen cap to exactly the same angle that Julian wore his. ‘No. It makes my nose cold, so cold.’

She cupped her hand over her nose to make it warm. George laughed.

‘Fancy complaining about a cold nose when she’s hardly wearing anything on her skinny little body – you’d think the whole of her would feel cold – not just her nose!’

‘Aily – do you know where the big hole is?’ asked Julian, looking about in the snow. The snowflakes were quite big now, and nothing that was more than a few yards away could be seen. Aily stood there, her feet sinking into the snow. She looked all round, and Julian felt certain that she was going to say that she didn’t know which way to go, in this thick snow. Even he was rather doubtful which was the way back up the hill!

But Aily was like a dog. She had a sure sense of direction, and could go from one place to another on a dark night or in the snow without any difficulty at all!

She nodded.

‘Aily know – Dai know, too.’

She walked a few steps, but her feet sank into the snow about her ankles, and her thin shoes were soon soaked through.

‘She’ll get her feet frost-bitten,’ said Dick. ‘Better put her on one of the toboggans and pull her, Ju. Pity we didn’t have any snow-boots small enough to lend her. I say – this is a bit of a crazy expedition, isn’t it! I hope to goodness Aily knows where’s she’s taking us. I haven’t the foggiest idea at the moment which is east or west, north or south!’

‘Wait – I’ve got a compass in one of my pockets,’ said Julian, and did a lot of digging in his clothes. At last he pulled out a small compass. He looked at it.

‘That’s south,’ he said, pointing, ‘so that’s where Old Towers Hill is – south is directly opposite our hut; we know that because the sun shone straight in at our front windows. I reckon we walk this way, then – due south.’

‘Let’s see which way Aily points,’ said Dick. He set her on his toboggan, and wrapped her scarf more closely round her. ‘Now – which way, Aily?’

Aily at once pointed due south. Everyone was most impressed.

‘That’s right,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Dick – I’ll pull Aily’s toboggan, you can pull the girls’ for them.’

They all set off up the rest of the slope of Old Towers Hill, Aily on the toboggan with Dai and Fany the lamb, and Timmy sitting in state on George’s toboggan, the girls walking behind. Timmy was enjoying himself. He didn’t like the way his legs went down into the snow when he tried to run – it was much easier to sit on the toboggan and be pulled along!

‘Lazy thing!’ said George, and Timmy wagged his tail, not caring a bit what anyone said!

Julian looked at his compass as he went, and walked due south for some time. Then Aily gave a call, and pointed to the right.

‘That way, that way,’ she said.

‘She wants us to go westwards now,’ said Julian, stopping. ‘I wonder if she’s right. By my reckoning we’re going dead straight for Old Towers now – but we shall be going up the hill to the right of it, if we go her way.’

‘That way, that way,’ repeated Aily, imperiously, and Dai barked as if to say she was right!

‘Better follow her way,’ said Dick. ‘She seems so jolly certain of it.’

So Julian swerved to the right a little, and the others followed. They went a good way up the steep hill, and Julian began to pant.

‘Is it far now?’ he asked Aily, who was petting her lamb, and apparently taking no notice of the way they were going. Not that there was anything much to take notice of except snow on the ground and snowflakes in the air!

Aily looked up. Then she pointed again, a little more to the right, and said something in Welsh, nodding her head.

‘Well – it looks as if we’re getting near this place of hers – this “big, big hole”, whatever it is,’ said Julian, and on he went.

In about a minute Aily suddenly leapt off the toboggan and stood there, looking round with a frown.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘Big hole here.’

‘Well – it may be – but I’d like to see it a bit more clearly, Aily,’ said Julian. Aily began to scrape down through the snow, and Timmy and Dai obligingly went to help her, imagining that she was after rabbits or a hidden hare.

‘I’m afraid the poor kid’s led us on a wild-goose chase,’ said Dick. ‘Why should there be a big hole here?’

Timmy and Aily had now got down through the snow to the buried clumps of heather that grew all over the slopes of the mountains in that district. Julian could see the clumps sticking up, stiff and wiry, in the clearing that Aily and the dogs had made.

‘Timmy – you take Timmy!’ said Aily, suddenly to George. ‘He’ll fall down, down – he’ll fall like Dai one day – down, down!’

‘I say! I believe she’s looking for an old pot-hole!’ said Dick, suddenly. ‘You know – those strange holes that are sometimes found on moors – sudden holes that drop right down underground. They’re called dean-holes I think, in some places. We found one once on Kirrin Island – don’t you remember?’

‘Oh yes – that was in the heather too!’ said George, remembering. ‘And it led to a cave below, by the seashore! That’s what Aily meant by a big, big hole! A pot-hole on the moors! Timmy – for goodness’ sake come away – you may drop right down it!’

Timmy very nearly did go down the hole! George just caught his collar in time! But Dai was wary – he had fallen down once before!

‘Hole!’ said Aily, pleased. ‘Big, big hole! Aily find for you!’

‘Well – certainly you’ve found your hole – but how does it get us into Old Towers?’ said Dick. Aily didn’t understand. She knelt there, looking down at the hole she had uncovered under the heather and the snow.

‘I must say that was a marvellous feat,’ said Julian. ‘Coming straight to this place and finding the hole when she couldn’t see a thing through the falling snow. She really is as good as a dog. Good little Aily bach!’

Aily gave one of her sudden smiles, and slipped her hand in Julian’s.

‘Go down, yes?’ she said. ‘Aily show way?’

‘Well – we’d better go down if it’s possible,’ said Julian, not much liking the idea, for he could see nothing but darkness inside the hole, and had no idea of what lay below.

Fany the lamb was tired of waiting about. She gave a little leap to the edge of the big, round hole, and then put her small head in. She kicked up her heels – and was gone!

‘She’s jumped into the hole!’ said George, amazed. ‘Here, wait, Aily – you can’t jump too – you’ll hurt yourself!’

But Aily slithered into the hole, then let herself go.

‘Aily here,’ came a small voice from below. ‘You come quick!’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Inside Old Towers

‘WELL! DID you see that – she just let go and dropped!’ said George, amazed. ‘I wonder she didn’t break her legs. Julian, shine your torch down.’

Julian shone it down.

‘It’s a pretty good drop,’ he said. ‘I think we’ll take the ropes off our toboggans and let ourselves down on those. I don’t particularly want to break a leg or sprain an ankle just at present.’

‘If we pull our toboggans over the hole, and let their ropes hang down into it, they will hold us safely,’ said Dick, and pulled his toboggan right across the hole.

Then Julian pulled the other toboggan across as well, and soon the ropes were dangling down, ready to take each of the four children.

‘What about Timmy?’ asked George, anxiously. ‘Dai has jumped down – though I wonder he didn’t break a leg!’

‘I’ll wrap my coat over him and tie one of the ropes round him,’ said Julian. ‘Then we can let him down easily. Come here, Tim.’

Tim was soon tied up in the coat with the rope. Then Dick slithered down on another rope, and stood on the floor of the hole, ready to take Timmy when Julian let him down. It really wasn’t very difficult. Aily looked rather scornful as the four children used the ropes.

Julian laughed, and patted her shoulder.

‘We’re not all goat-like, you know,’ he said. ‘We don’t gambol about the mountains all day long, like you, Aily. Well – that was your big, big hole. What next?’

He shone his torch round.

‘Yes – it’s a pot-hole. There’s a small underground cave here. Look – is that a tunnel leading out of it?’

‘Yes,’ said George, as Aily and the lamb skipped off together down into the darkness of the tunnel. ‘Look at that – no torch, no lamp – and yet she goes off into the darkness without any fear! I’d be scared stiff!’

‘She’s got eyes like a cat,’ said Anne. ‘Well, do we follow her? We’d better or we shall lose her!’

‘Come on, Timmy,’ said George, and all Five went down the dark, winding little tunnel after Aily. Anne glanced up at the rocky roof and thought with wonder of the thick masses of heather growing on its upper surface, all covered with thick snow.

Aily was nowhere to be seen! Julian grew worried.

‘Aily! Come back!’

But there was no answer.

‘Never mind,’ said Dick. ‘There’s probably only one way to go, and she knows we must take it! If we come to a fork, we’ll shout again.’

But they didn’t come to a fork. The tunnel wound on and on, going steadily downhill. Its roof was of rock, and so were the walls, but underfoot was sandy soil alternating with rock ridges that made the going rather rough.

Julian looked at his compass.

‘We’ve been going in a north-easterly direction more or less,’ he said. ‘And that should be in the direction of Old Towers. I think I know how Aily gets into the house!’

‘Yes – this tunnel must pass right under the fence-that-bites, and under the grounds, and end somewhere near the cellars of the house,’ said Dick. ‘Or possibly in them. Where is that child?’

They caught sight of her just then, in the light of Julian’s torch. She was waiting for them in a corner of the passage with Dai and Fany.

She pointed upwards.

‘Way to garden!’ she said. ‘Little hole there – big for Aily! Not for you!’

Julian shone his torch upwards. Sure enough there was a small hole there, which appeared to be overgrown with weeds or heather – he couldn’t tell what. He looked at the rocky sides of the upward passage to the hole, and saw how easily Aily could have climbed up to squeeze out of it, and roam the gardens! So that was how it was she had been able to pick up the notes that the poor old woman had thrown out so hopefully! Aily must surely have been the only person who managed to get into the grounds without permission!

‘This way,’ said Aily, and led them past the garden-hole and downwards again.

‘We must be under the house now,’ said Julian. ‘I wonder if . . .’

But before he could finish his sentence he saw that the passage had led them into some old, half-ruined cellars. It went through a half-fallen cellar wall, and Aily proudly led them into a dark, cluttered-up cellar which, with its many barrels and old bottles, must once have been the wine-cellar.

‘What cellars!’ exclaimed Dick, in amazement, as they went through one after another. ‘Dozens of them. Hey – what’s this, Aily?’

He had come to where one high wall had been broken down completely – but the breakage seemed to have been done by human hands, for the breaks looked new, and were not covered with grime and mould as were the other fallen-down walls. A vast opening had been made into what seemed at first glance to be a low-walled cave.

Then a curious sound came to their ears. The sound of water – water gurgling and splashing! Julian took a step forward to peer into the cave beyond the broken walls.

But Aily tugged at his hand in terror.

‘No, no! Not go there! Bad men, very bad men. Bad place there!’

‘I say, look!’ said Julian, amazed, taking no notice of Aily’s tugging hand. ‘An underground river – not just a stream – a river! Flowing down through the mountain, probably fed by springs on the way – and I bet it goes right down to the sea somewhere! We know the sea isn’t far away!’

‘Bad men down there,’ said Aily, in panic, pulling back Dick and George too. ‘Bang-bang – big fires – big noise. Come into the house, quick!’

‘Gosh – isn’t this extraordinary!’ said Julian, quite astounded. ‘What is going on here? We really shall have to find out. What in the world does Aily mean?’

Anne and George were astonished too, but had no desire to go along the river and find out!

‘Better leave this for now, and go up into the house,’ said George. ‘After all, the old lady is the important thing at the moment. No wonder they imprisoned her in one of the towers, so that she wouldn’t know what is going on!’

‘Well, I’m blowed if I know what’s going on,’ said Dick. ‘I’m not quite sure if I’m in some peculiar kind of nightmare or not!’

‘Come into the house,’ said Aily again, and this time, to her great relief, they followed her, Timmy trotting at the back with George, not quite knowing what to make of it all.

Aily led them unerringly back through the smashed walls, through the musty cellars, and into some that looked as if they had recently been used for store-places. Tins of food stood about, old furniture, old tins and baths and cans, barrels of all sizes and shapes.

‘We go soft!’ said Aily, meaning that they were now to walk quietly. They followed her up a long flight of stone cellar steps to a great door that stood half open. Aily stood at the top listening – probably for the tall caretaker, Julian thought. He wondered if the fierce dog was anywhere about the house. He whispered to Aily.

‘Big dog in house, Aily?’

‘No, big dog in garden, big dog there all day and night,’ whispered back the little girl, and Julian felt most relieved.

‘Aily find man,’ said Aily, and shot off by herself, motioning to the others to wait.

‘She’s gone to find out where the caretaker is,’ said Julian. ‘My word – did you ever know anyone like her? Gosh, she’s back again already!’

So she was, smiling mischievously all over her face.

‘Man asleep,’ she said. ‘Man safe.’ She took them through the door from the cellar into a perfectly enormous kitchen, with a colossal range at one end, black and empty now. A larger door nearby was open and Aily darted into it. She brought out a meat pie and offered it to Julian. He shook his head at once.

‘No. You mustn’t steal!’ he said. But Aily either didn’t understand, or didn’t want to, for she bit into the pie herself, gobbling great pieces down, and then put it on the floor for the animals to finish, which they were very pleased to do!

‘Aily – take us to the old woman,’ said Dick, not wanting to waste time on things like this. ‘Aily – you are sure there is no one else in the house?’

‘Aily know!’ said the little girl. ‘One man to watch – he in there!’ and she pointed towards the door of a nearby room. ‘He watch old woman, and dog watch garden. Other men don’t come in here.’

‘Oh – well, where do they live then, these strange “other men”?’ asked Julian, but Aily didn’t understand. She led them to a great hall, from which two wide stairways swept up, meeting above at an even wider landing.

The lamb gambolled up, and the little dog Dai barked joyfully.

‘Sh!’ said all the four children at once, but Aily laughed. She seemed quite at home in the house and Dick wondered how many times she had let herself down into the pot-hole and come wandering in here. No wonder she spent so many nights away from home – she could always come and hide away in some corner of this big house! They followed her up the wide stairs.

But Aily would come no farther than the second floor. She had brought them up two flights of stairs – and now before them stretched a great picture gallery, that led to another stairway at the far end. The child hung back and refused to take Julian’s hand.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘Aily not come here before,’ said the child, shrinking back. ‘Not come here, not ever. Those people see Aily!’ And she pointed at the rows of great pictures, each a portrait of some long-dead owner of the house.

‘She’s afraid of the portraits!’ said Anne. ‘Afraid of all their eyes following her as she runs down the long gallery! Funny little thing. All right – you stay here, Aily. We’ll go on up to the towers.’

They left Aily curled up behind a curtain, with Dai and Fany. Anne glanced at the rows of grave portraits as the four of them, with Timmy, walked softly down the long gallery. She shivered a little, for their eyes seemed to follow her as she passed, looking grave and disapproving.

Up another flight of stairs, and yet another. And now they were in a long passage that ran from tower-room to tower-room. Which was the tower they wanted?

It was very easy to find out! All of them had their doors wide open but one!

‘This must be it!’ said Julian, and knocked at the door.

‘Who knocks?’ said a weak, sorrowful voice. ‘Surely not you, Matthew – you have no manners! Unlock the door and do not mock me with your knocking!’

‘The key’s in the door,’ said Dick. ‘Unlock it, Julian – quick!’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A lot of excitement

JULIAN TURNED the key in the lock and opened the door. A stately old woman sat in a chair beside the window, reading a book. She did not turn round.

‘And why have you come at this time of the morning, Matthew?’ she said, without turning round. ‘And how did you find the manners to knock? Are you remembering the time when you knew how to behave to your elders and betters?’

‘It isn’t Matthew,’ said Julian. ‘It’s us – we’ve come to set you free.’

The old woman turned at once, gaping in amazement. She got up and went over to the door, and the Five saw that she was trembling.

‘Who are you? Let me out of that door before Matthew comes! Let me out, I tell you!’

She pushed by the four children and the dog, and then stood uncertainly in the passage.

‘What shall I do? Where shall I go? Are those men here still?’

She went back into her room and sank down in her chair again, covering her face with her hands.

‘I feel faint. Get me some water.’

Anne sprang to pour out a glass of water from a jug on a table. The old woman took it and drank it. She looked at Anne.

‘Who are you? What is the meaning of this? Where is Matthew? Oh, I must be going mad!’

‘Mrs Thomas – you are Mrs Thomas, aren’t you?’ said Julian. ‘Little Aily, the shepherd’s daughter, brought us here. She knew you were locked up. You remember her mother, don’t you? She told us she used to work for you.’

‘Aily’s mother – Maggy – yes, yes. But what has Aily to do with this? I don’t believe it. It’s another trick. Where are the men who killed my son?’

Julian looked at Dick. It was clear that the poor old lady was not herself – or else this sudden appearance of the children had upset her.

‘Those men that my Llewellyn brought here – they wanted to buy my house,’ she said. ‘But I wouldn’t sell it, no, I wouldn’t. Do you know what they said to me? They said that in this hill, far, far below my house, was a rare metal – a powerful metal – worth a fortune. What did they call it now?’

She looked at the children, as if expecting them to know. She shook her head as they didn’t answer.

‘Why should you know about it – you are only children. But I wouldn’t sell it – no, I wouldn’t sell my house – nor the metal below. Do you know what they wanted it for? For bombs to kill people with! And I said NO, never will I sell this place so that men can dig the metal and make bombs. It is against the law of God, I said, and I, Bronwen Thomas, will not do such a thing!’

The children listened in awe. The old lady seemed beside herself, and rocked to and fro as she spoke.

‘So they asked my son, and he said no, as I had. But they took him away and killed him – and now they are at work below. Yes, yes, I hear them – I hear the noises creeping up, I feel my house shake, I see strange things. But who are you? And where is Matthew? He keeps me here, locked in my room. He told me about Llewellyn, my poor dead son; he is a wicked man, Matthew, he works with those men, those evil men!’

She seemed to forget the four children for a little while. They wondered what to do. Julian saw that the poor woman was not fit to take down the stairs with them, and through the tunnel – and certainly she could not get out of the pot-hole. He began to wish that he hadn’t been so hasty in his ideas of rescue. It would really be best to lock the door again and leave her here in safety until he could get the police – for certainly now the police must come.

‘We will leave you now,’ he said, ‘and send someone soon to bring you out of here. We are sorry we disturbed you.’

And, to the astonishment of the others, he pushed them out of the room, turned the key in the lock again, and put it into his pocket!

‘Aren’t we going to take her with us?’ said George, surprised. ‘Poor, poor old thing!’

‘No. How can we?’ said Julian, troubled. ‘We must go to the police, no matter what Morgan says. I see it all now, don’t you? The mother forbidding the son to sell the old place, in spite of the enormous amount of money offered – the son refusing too – and the men making a plot to get in somehow and down to this metal, whatever it is – and work it . . .’

‘And killing the son?’ said Dick. ‘Well, it may be so – but I should have thought that was a pretty drastic thing to do! Surely the son would have been reported missing very quickly, and the police would have made inquiries. Nobody said the son was missing or dead, did they, except the old lady?’

‘Well, let’s not talk about it now,’ said Julian. ‘We’ve got to do something. I’m sorry to leave old Mrs Thomas still locked up in that room, but I honestly think she would be safer there than anywhere else.’

They went down the two flights of stairs to the picture gallery. Aily was there, still cuddling her two pets. She was pleased to see them, and ran up smiling. She didn’t seem to notice that they hadn’t the old woman with them.

‘Man down there very cross!’ she said, and laughed. ‘He awake now – he shout and bang!’

‘Goodness – I hope he won’t see us,’ said Julian. ‘We’ve got to get out of here, quick, and go to the police. Let’s hope he won’t come rushing at us, or call in that fierce dog.’

They went downstairs at top speed, looking out for Matthew. But there was no sign of him in person – though there was a most tremendous row going on somewhere, of shouting and banging.

‘Aily lock door,’ said Aily, suddenly, pointing in the direction of the sounds. ‘Man lock old woman – Aily lock man!’

‘Did you? Did you really lock him in?’ said Julian, delighted. ‘You really are a monkey – but what a good idea! I wish I’d thought of it!’

He went to the door of the room in which the angry Matthew was.

‘Matthew!’ he called sternly. There was a dead silence, and then Matthew’s astonished voice came through the shut door.

‘Who’s that? Who locked me in? If it’s one of you men, you’ll be sorry for it! Silly joke to play on me, when you know I’ve got to go up and see to old Mrs Thomas!’

‘Matthew – this isn’t one of the men,’ said Julian, and how the others admired his cool, determined voice! ‘We have come to rescue Mrs Thomas from that tower – and now we are going to the police to report all this, and to report too that her son has been killed by the men who are working far below this house.’

There was an astonished silence. Then Matthew’s voice came again.

‘What’s all this? I don’t understand! The police can’t do anything. Llewellyn, the son, isn’t dead – my word, no, he’s all alive and kicking – and won’t be very pleased with you, whoever you are. Clear off at once – but let me out before you go. I’m surprised that Alsatian outside didn’t get you, that I am!’

It was the children’s turn to be amazed now. So the son wasn’t dead! Then where was he? And why had Matthew told old Mrs Thomas such a cruel untruth? Julian asked him at once.

‘Why did you tell Mrs Thomas her son was dead then?’

‘What’s it to do with you? Llewellyn told me to tell his mother that. The old lady wouldn’t let him sell that stuff deep down under the house – the stuff that gets hold of cars and bicycles, and ploughs, and makes them heavy as lead. Magnetises them, so they say. Well, if he wants to sell it, why shouldn’t he? But what I say is this – he shouldn’t sell it to strangers, no, that he shouldn’t! If I’d have known that – well – I wouldn’t have taken money from him to act like I did!’

The voice rose and fell as Matthew told his extraordinary tale. Then the man banged frantically on the door again.

‘Who are you? You let me out! I’ve been kind to the old lady – you ask her – though she’s difficult, and strange in her ways. I’ve been loyal to Llewellyn, though he’s not easy, no, that he’s not. Who are you, I say? Let me out, let me out! If Llewellyn catches me locked in here, he’ll kill me! He’ll say I’ve let his secret out. He’ll say . . . LET ME OUT, I say!’

‘He sounds angry,’ said Julian, thankful that the man was locked up. ‘He must be a bit daft too, to believe all that the son told him, and do everything he was told to do. Well – we’d better go to the police. Come on – we’ll go back the way we came.’

‘Let’s just have a look down that river to see what the men are up to,’ said Dick. ‘Just you and I, Julian. It’s such a chance – we needn’t be seen, and it would only take a few minutes. The girls could wait somewhere with Tim.’

‘I don’t think we ought to stop now,’ said Julian. ‘I really don’t.’

‘No, don’t let’s,’ said Anne. ‘I don’t like this house. It’s got a horrid feel about it. And I can’t imagine what the “shuddering” would be like, when the men start their work again, deep down below – whatever it is!’

‘Well, come along then,’ said Julian, and, completely ignoring Matthew’s yells and bangs, the children made their way through the kitchen and down the cellar steps, flashing on their torches to light their way.

‘I bet Matthew is wild that we’ve left him locked up,’ said Dick, as they went through the vast cellars. ‘Serves him right! Taking bribes from the son – and telling lies to that poor old woman. Hallo, we’ve come to where the men smashed the walls here to get along the river tunnel. I suppose they found that was the easiest way to go down to where the precious metal was – whatever it is!’

They stood looking through the smashed walls at the gurgling river.

‘Come, come,’ said Aily, dragging at Julian’s hand. ‘Bad men there!’

She was holding Dai, her little dog, in case he fell into the rushing river, but Fany the lamb was gambolling loose as usual. And, quite suddenly, she skipped off down the river tunnel, her tail whisking behind her madly.

‘Fany, Fany!’ cried Aily. ‘Fany come back!’

But the lamb, thinking that she was going the right way, gambolled on, deafened by the rushing of the water. Aily ran after her, as sure-footed as the lamb, hopping and skipping over the rough, rocky bank of the river.

‘Come back!’ yelled Julian. But Aily either did not or would not hear, and she disappeared into the blackness of the tunnel almost at once.

‘She hasn’t got a torch, Ju – she’ll fall in and drown!’ yelled George in a panic. ‘Timmy, go after her. Fetch her back!’

And away went Timmy obediently, running as fast as he could beside the black, churning water, hurrying on its way downwards to the sea.

Julian and the others waited anxiously. Aily didn’t come back, nor did any of the animals – and George began to be very panicky about Timmy.

‘Oh, Julian – what’s happened to Tim – and Aily?’ she said. ‘With no torch – oh, why did I let Timmy go? We all ought to have gone!’

‘They’ll come back all right,’ said Julian, much more confidently than he felt. ‘That child Aily can see in the dark, I really do believe – and she knows her way about like a dog.’

But when, after five minutes, not one of the four had come back, George started forward, flashing her torch on the rocky path beside the river.

‘I’m going to find Timmy,’ she said. ‘And nobody’s going to stop me!’

And she was gone before the boys could get hold of her! Julian gave a shout of aggravation.

‘George! Don’t be stupid! Timmy will find his own way back. Don’t go down there – you don’t know what you may find!’

‘Come on,’ said Dick, starting off down the river too. ‘George won’t come back, we know that – not unless she finds Tim and the others. We’d better go quickly before anything awful happens!’

Anne had to follow the boys, her heart beating fast. What a thing to happen! Just the very worst possible!

CHAPTER TWENTY

In the heart of the hill

IT SEEMED like a bad dream to the four children, making their way over the rocky edge of the underground river. Their torches had good batteries, fortunately, and gave a bright light, so that they could see their way alongside the river. But at times this rocky ‘path’ they had to walk on grew very narrow indeed!

‘Oh dear!’ thought Anne, trying to keep up with the boys. ‘I know I shall slip! I wish I hadn’t these heavy snowboots on. What a noise the river makes, booming along, and how fast it goes!’

Some way in front of the two boys and Anne was George, still calling for Timmy. She was very worried because he didn’t come back to her, as he always did when she called him. She didn’t realise that Timmy couldn’t hear her! The river made such a noise in the enclosed rocky tunnel that Timmy heard nothing at all but the sound of the churning waters!

Quite suddenly the tunnel widened tremendously – the river making a big, broad pool before it tore on down the tunnel again. The walls opened out into an enormous cave, half of which was water and the other half a stretch of rough, rocky floor. George was most astonished. But she was even more astonished at other things she saw!

Two rafts, sturdy and immensely strong, were moored at the side of the deep pool! And on the floor of the cave were what looked like tin barrels, standing in rough rows – presumably waiting to be packed on to the rafts.

At one side of the cave were stacked great heaps of tins and bottles and cans, none of them opened – and on the other side an equally vast heap of discarded ones – all opened and thrown to one side. Big wooden crates stood about too – though George could not imagine what they were for.

The cave was dimly lit by electricity of some kind – probably from a battery fixed up somewhere. Nobody seemed to be about at all! George gave a call, hoping that Timmy was somewhere there.

‘Timmy! Where are you?’

And at once Timmy came from behind one of the big crates, his tail wagging hard! George was so glad that she fell on one knee and hugged him tight.

‘You naughty dog,’ she said, fondling him. ‘Why didn’t you come when you were called? Did you find the others? Where is Aily?’

A small face peeped from behind the crate nearby, the one from which Timmy had appeared. It was Aily. She looked terrified, and tears were on her cheeks. She clasped her lamb to her, and Dai was at her heels. She ran straight across to George, crying out something in Welsh, pointing back up the tunnel. George nodded.

‘Yes. We’ll go back straight away! Look – here come the others!’

Aily had already seen them. She ran to Julian with a cry of delight, and he swung her up in his arms, lamb and all. He was very glad to see George and Timmy too.

They all had a good look round the strange cave.

‘I see what the idea is,’ said Julian. ‘Jolly clever too! They are mining that precious metal down here somewhere – and putting it on those rafts there, so that the underground river can take it right down to the sea. I bet they’ve got barges or something waiting down at some secret creek, to take the stuff away at night!’

‘Whew!’ said Dick. ‘Very ingenious! And they count on the strange noises and shudderings and things to frighten people and keep them away from this hill – nobody dares to come prying round to see what’s up!’

‘The nearest farm is Magga Glen Farm, where the Joneses live,’ said Julian. ‘They would really be the only people who could find out anything definite.’

‘Which they obviously did!’ said Dick. ‘I bet Morgan knows all about this, and is in with the son who sold the precious metal to the men who came after it – though it was his mother’s.’

‘There’s no strange noise or anything down here – no noise at all except the sound of the river,’ said Julian. ‘Do you suppose the works aren’t going just now?’

‘Well,’ began Dick, and then suddenly stopped as Dai and Timmy began to growl, Timmy in a deep voice and Dai in a smaller one. Julian at once pulled Aily and George behind a big crate, and Dick pushed Anne there. They listened intently. What had the dogs heard? Was there time to rush back to the tunnel and make their way out before they were seen?

Timmy went on growling in a low voice. The children’s hearts began to beat fast – and then they heard voices. Where did they come from? Dick peeped cautiously round the crate. It was in a dark corner and he hoped he could not be seen.

The voices seemed to come from the direction of the great pool, and Dick looked over to it. He gave a sudden exclamation.

‘Ju! Look over there! Do you see what I see?’

Julian looked – and was filled with astonishment. Two men had come up the tunnel, from the sea – evidently walking on the rocky edge of the river, just as they themselves had done – and were now wading in the shallows of the pool.

‘One is MORGAN!’ whispered Julian. ‘And who’s the other man! Gosh! – it’s the shepherd – Aily’s father! Would you believe it? Well – we always thought Morgan was mixed up in this – but I didn’t think the shepherd was.’

Aily had seen both Morgan and her father. She made no move to go to the shepherd – she was far too scared of Morgan!

Morgan and the shepherd stood and gazed round a little, as if looking for someone. Then, keeping to the shadows, they made their way across the great cave right to the back of it, where another tunnel, very wide, led downwards into the hill.

As they went, a strange noise began.

‘The rumbling!’ whispered George, and Timmy growled again. ‘But oh – doesn’t it sound near. What a terrific noise – it’s got right inside my head!’

It was no use whispering now! They had to shout if they wanted to say anything and then the shuddering began! Everything shuddered and vibrated, and when the children touched one another, they could feel the vibration in the other’s hands and arms.

‘It’s as if we’re being run by electricity ourselves!’ said Dick, astonished. ‘I wonder if it’s anything to do with that strange metal that is under this hill – that makes steel things heavy, so that ploughs won’t plough, and spades won’t dig!’

‘Let’s follow Morgan and the shepherd,’ said Julian, so excited now that he felt he must see everything possible. ‘We can keep well in the shadows. Nobody would ever guess we were here!’

‘Aily – you stay here,’ said Julian. ‘Big noise, big, big noise frighten Fany and Dai.’

Aily nodded. She settled down behind the crate with her pets.

‘Aily wait,’ she said. She had no desire at all to go any nearer that strange noise! In her mind she imagined that possibly the thunder itself came from this hill and was made here. Yes, perhaps the lightning too!

Morgan and the shepherd had now disappeared into the tunnel right at the back of the cave, on the opposite side to the great pool. The Five went quickly over to it and looked down. It was very wide and very steep but rough steps had been cut in it, so that it was not difficult to go down.

They trod warily down the steep tunnel, astonished because it was dimly lit – and yet there were no lamps of any sort to be seen.

‘I think it’s the reflection of some great glare far below,’ shouted Julian, above the rumbling. The noise was so loud that it was almost like walking in the middle of thunder.

Down and down they went, and the tunnel curved and wound about, always steep, rocky and dimly lit. Suddenly the noise grew louder, and the tunnel grew lighter. The children saw the end of it, the exit outlined in brilliant light – a light that shimmered and shook in a most curious way.

‘We’re coming to the works – the mine – where that strange metal is!’ shouted Dick, so excited that he felt his hands trembling. ‘Be careful we aren’t seen. JU! BE CAREFUL WE AREN’T SEEN!’

They went cautiously to the end of the tunnel and peered out. They were looking into a vast pit of light, round which men stood, working some curious-looking machines. The children could not make out what they were – and, indeed, the light was so blinding that it was only possible to look with their eyelids almost closed. All the men were wearing face-guards.

Suddenly the loud rumbling stopped and the light disappeared as if someone had turned off an electric switch! Then, in the darkness, a glow formed, a strange glow that came upwards and outwards, and seemed to go right through the roof itself! Dick clutched at Julian.

‘That’s the kind of glow we saw the other night!’ he said. ‘My word – it begins down here, goes right up through the hill in some strange way, and hangs above it! That shimmering must come from here too – some kind of rays that can go through anything – like X-rays or something!’

‘It’s like a dream,’ said Anne, feeling George to make sure it wasn’t! ‘Just like a dream!’

‘Where are Morgan and the shepherd?’ said Dick. ‘Look – there they are – in that corner, not far off. Look out – they’re coming back!’

The four children moved back quickly into the tunnel, afraid of being seen. They suddenly heard shouts, and stumbled up the rocky steps even faster. Had they been seen? It sounded like it!

‘I can hear someone coming up the tunnel behind us!’ panted Dick. ‘Quick, quick! I wish that noise would begin again. I know we can be heard!’

Someone was climbing swiftly up behind them. There were shouts and yells from below too. It sounded as if all the men were disturbed and angry. Why, oh why had they followed Morgan and the shepherd? They could so easily have gone back to the cellars!

They came to the top of the steep, rocky tunnel at last, and ran to hide behind the crates, hoping to slip into the river-tunnel without being seen. They had to get Aily before they fled! Where was she?

‘Aily, Aily!’ shouted Julian. ‘Where’s she gone? We daren’t leave her here. AILY!’

It was difficult to remember exactly where they had left her, in this great cave.

‘There’s the lamb!’ cried Julian, thankfully, as he saw it on the other side of a crate. ‘AILY!’

‘Look out! There’s Morgan!’ shouted George, as the big farmer came out of the tunnel and ran across the cave. He saw the children and stopped in the utmost amazement.

‘What are you doing here?’ he roared. ‘Come with us, quickly! You’re in danger!’

The shepherd now appeared too, and Aily ran from behind her crate to him. He stared as if he could not believe his eyes, and then picked her up, calling something to Morgan in Welsh.

Morgan swung round on Julian again.

‘I told you not to interfere!’ he roared. ‘I was handling this! Now we shall all be caught! Fool of a boy! Quick – we must hide and hope that the men will think we’ve gone down the tunnel. If we try to escape now, they will overtake us, and bring us back!’

He swept the astonished children into a dark corner and pulled crates round them.

‘Stay there!’ he said. ‘We will do what we can!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

An astounding thing

THE FIVE children crouched behind the pile of crates. Morgan pushed another crate up, so that they were completely hidden. Dick clutched Julian.

‘Julian! We’ve made fools of ourselves! Morgan was trying to find out the secret of Old Towers himself – with the help of the shepherd! They were about the only people in the neighbourhood who could guess what was going on. The shepherd could see all the strange things we saw, while watching his sheep on the mountainside – and he told Morgan . . .’

Julian groaned.

‘Yes. No wonder he was angry when he thought we were meddling in such a serious matter. No wonder he forbade us to do anything more! Gosh – we’ve been idiots! Where is Morgan now? Can you see him?’

‘No. He’s hiding somewhere. Listen – here come the men!’ said Dick. ‘There’s a crack between two crates here – I can see the first man. He’s got an iron bar or something. He looks pretty grim!’

The men came out cautiously, evidently not sure how many people they were after. They advanced across the cave, seven of them, all with weapons of some kind. Two went to the upper river tunnel, two went to the one that led down to the sea, and the others began to hunt among the crates.

They found the children first! It was Aily’s fault, poor child. She gave a sudden scream of fright – and in a trice the man had pulled away the crates. Crash – one by one they fell to the ground – and the amazed men found themselves looking at five children! But not for long! With a terrifying bark Timmy flung himself on the first man!

He yelled and began to fight him off, but Timmy held on like grim death. Morgan appeared from the shadows and surprised another of the men, jumping on him and getting him on the ground, at the same time catching hold of a second man and tossing him away. He had the strength of a giant!

‘Run!’ he yelled to the children, but they couldn’t. Two of the men had penned them into a corner, and although Julian leapt at one of them, he was simply thrown back again. These men were strong miners, and though not a match for the giantlike Morgan, they could certainly take everyone else prisoner – including the gentle shepherd! He too was penned into a corner – only Morgan and Timmy were fighting now.

‘Timmy will be hurt,’ said George, in a trembling voice, and she tried to push one of the men away to get to him. ‘Oh look, Ju – that man is trying to hit him with that bar!’

Timmy dodged the bar and sprang at the man, who turned and ran for his life. Timmy shot after him and got him on the ground. But there were too many men – and more were now coming up from the tunnel at the back of the cave, pouring in, with weapons of all kinds. All of them were amazed to see the five children!

The men seemed mostly to be from another place, and spoke a language the children couldn’t understand. But one man was not a foreigner – he was obviously the boss, and gave his orders as if he expected them to be obeyed. He hadn’t joined in the fight at all.

The shepherd was soon overpowered, and his hands bound behind his back. Morgan fought for some time – but then had to surrender. He was like an angry bull, stamping here, pulling there, roaring with rage as three men tried to tie his hands.

The boss came up and faced him.

‘You will be sorry for this, Morgan,’ he said. ‘All our lives we have been enemies – you down at the farm – and I here at Old Towers.’

Morgan suddenly spat at him.

‘Where is your old mother?’ he shouted. ‘A prisoner in her own house! Who has robbed her? You, Llewellyn Thomas!’ Then he went off into a spate of Welsh, his voice rising high as he denounced the man in front of him.

Julian admired the fearless Morgan enormously, as he stood with his hands bound, defying the man who had been a lifelong enemy. How many quarrels had these two had, living in the same countryside, trying their strength against one another? Julian wished intensely that he had obeyed Morgan’s command and left everything to him. But he had thought Morgan was on the side of the enemy! How stupid he had been!

‘It’s all because of us that he’s caught,’ thought the boy, remorsefully. ‘I’ve been a fool – and I thought I was doing something clever – and right! And now we’re all landed in this mess – the girls too! What will they do with us? I suppose the only safe thing for them to do is to keep us prisoner till they’ve finished this mining job, collected a fortune from the metal, whatever it is, and gone.’

Llewellyn Thomas was now giving some sharp orders, and the men were listening. Timmy was growling, held by the collar in a stranglehold by one of the men. If he tried to squirm away, the man twisted his hand in the collar a little more and poor Timmy was half-choked.

George was wild with despair. Julian had to keep stopping her from trying to make a dash to Timmy. He was afraid that these rough men would strike her. Aily sat in a corner, hugging her lamb and Dai, who had been far too scared even to take a little nip at any of the men!

Morgan was held by two hefty miners – but, quite suddenly, he hurled himself sideways at one of them and sent him flying – and then at the other, who staggered away and fell over a tin.

With a great roar Morgan stumbled to the pool, and waded to the entrance of the tunnel that led to the sea, his hands still tightly tied behind his back.

‘The fool!’ said Llewellyn Thomas. ‘If he thinks he can get along that tunnel with his hands tied, he is mad! He will fall into that rushing river – and without his hands to help him, he will drown! No – don’t go after him. Let him go – let him drown! We shall be well rid of him!’

The shepherd struggled to his feet to go after his master, knowing quite well that Llewellyn was right – no man could get along that rough edge to the river without his hands to steady him, feeling along the wall at the side – and one slip would put him into the churning, hurrying river, that ran at full-pelt down to the sea far below, at the bottom of the hill.

But Morgan did not mean to escape. He was not going to struggle along beside that treacherous torrent! He had come all the way up beside it, with the shepherd, and knew how easy it was to slip on the wet rocky edge. No – Morgan had another plan!

Julian watched him disappear into the tunnel, and his heart sank. He too knew that no one could walk along there without free hands to help him. But what could anyone do?

The boss turned to the other men, who were still staring after Morgan. He was just about to say something to them, when a roar came to their ears.

Not the roar of the torrent in the underground tunnel. Nor the roar of the strange rumbling mine. No – the roar of a giant voice, that crashed out of the tunnel, and echoed round the cave.

It was Morgan’s enormous voice. Morgan, calling the names of his seven great dogs! The children listened in amazement to this unbelievable voice.

‘DAI! BOB! TANG! COME TO ME! DOON! JOLL! RAFE! HAL!’

The names echoed round and round the cave, and it seemed as if the place was full of giant voices. Aily, who was used to hearing the dogs called, didn’t turn a hair – but the others crouched back in amazement at the sound of such a voice. Surely no one in all the world had ever shouted so loudly before!

‘DAI! DAI! RAFE! RAFE!’

The great voice boomed again and again, seeming to be louder each time. At first Llewellyn Thomas, the boss, was taken aback – but then he laughed sneeringly.

‘Does he think he can get his dogs up from the beach?’ he said. ‘All that way down the tunnel. He’s mad! Let him be!’

Then again the great voice roared out the names of the seven dogs belonging to Morgan and the shepherd.

‘DAI! BOB! TANG! DOON! JOLL! RAFE! HAL!’

At the last name, Morgan’s voice seemed to crack. The shepherd raised his head in dismay. Morgan had overstrained that great voice of his, and no wonder. No megaphone could possibly have been louder!

There was silence after that, Morgan called no more. Neither did he appear again. The children felt scared and depressed, and Aily began to whimper.

The curious shuddering vibration began to creep into everything again, and the boss turned sharply, giving some more orders. Two of the men ran to the tunnel at the back of the cave and disappeared. Then things took on a curious shimmer, as if a heat-haze had spread everywhere, and it began to feel very warm in the cave.

Suddenly something happened. At first it sounded far off in the distance, a confused noise that made Timmy tug at his collar again and prick his ears. He barked, and the man who was holding him hit at him.

‘What’s that noise?’ said Llewellyn Thomas, sharply, looking all round. There was no telling where it came from. But it grew louder – and louder – and then suddenly Julian knew what it was!

It was the loud barking of seven angry dogs! The shepherd knew it too, and a glad smile came over his face. He glanced at Llewellyn to see if he recognised it as well.

Yes – the boss had certainly recognised that dreadful sound now. He could hardly believe it! Surely it was not possible that Morgan’s voice, enormous as it was, had echoed all the way down the tunnel, and been heard by the sharp, pricked-up ears of the dogs who loved him?

But so it was! Dai, the oldest dog, who loved his master more than any of them, had stood tense and listening ever since Morgan and the shepherd had left them. And, from somewhere far distant, echoing down to the end of the tunnel they were guarding, Dai had heard the faint echoes of his master’s beloved voice!

His bark had told the other dogs the news – and, led by Dai, they had all rushed up the rocky tunnel, sure-footed on the slippery, rocky path beside the racing river.

They came to Morgan, sitting beside the river, not far from the big cave, a little way down the tunnel. It was a moment of joy for Morgan and his dogs!

Dai soon snuffed at his hands and bit the ropes in half. Morgan was free!

‘Down now – and hush!’ commanded Morgan. He began to walk steadily back to the cave, then motioned the dogs before him.

‘Attack!’ he cried in Welsh.

And then, to the men’s horror, the seven dogs raced out of the tunnel at a great speed, barking, growling, snarling – with a triumphant Morgan behind them, so tall that he had to bend double to leave the tunnel.

The men fled, every one of them. Llewellyn had turned to run even before the dogs appeared, and was gone. Dai leapt at one man and got him down, and Tang leapt at another. The cave was filled with snarls and growls and excited barking.

Timmy delightedly joined in, for his captor had rushed away too. Even little Dai ran to join this wonderful fight, while the children stood amazed and thankful to see their enemy defeated!

‘Who would have thought of this?’ said Dick, sending the crates crashing down. ‘What an astounding thing! Hurrah for Morgan and his seven dogs!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

All’s well that ends well!

MORGAN WOULD not let the children stay underground any longer.

‘We have things to do,’ he said, in his deep voice, which sounded rather hoarse now. ‘You will go back to the farm and telephone to the police for me. You will say “Morgan has won” and tell them to send a boat to the little creek I have already told them of. There I will bring these men all the way down the tunnel to the sea. Go now, at once. Obey me this time, boy.’

‘Yes,’ said Julian. This man was a hero! And he had thought him a villain! He was ready to obey his smallest command now. Then a thought struck him, and he turned back.

‘The old woman,’ he said. ‘Mrs Thomas – that man’s mother. What about her? And we’ve locked the caretaker up in his room!’

‘You will not do anything but go to the farm and telephone,’ said Morgan, sternly. ‘I will do everything there is to be done. Take Aily with you to the farm. She must not be here. Now go.’

And Julian went! He and the others took one last look round at the men, all pinioned by the dogs, lying still and panic-stricken. Then, with Aily and her lamb and dog, he led the others up the tunnel again, and at last back into the cellars.

‘I don’t like leaving that old lady up there, in the tower,’ said Dick.

‘No. But obviously Morgan has his plans,’ said Julian, who was not going to disobey orders in any way this time. ‘I expect he has arranged something with the police. We can’t interfere now. We messed things up a bit, I’m afraid.’

They climbed soberly up to the place where they had left their toboggans. It took them some time, and they were beginning to feel very hungry. But Julian wouldn’t let them stop even to eat some sandwiches.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve to telephone to the police as soon as ever I can. No stopping now! We’ll munch our sandwiches on the way down to the farm.’

It wasn’t very difficult to get out of the pot-hole, for they had left the ropes dangling down. Julian and Dick helped the two girls up by pushing them, and they in turn helped to pull up the boys from the top of the hole.

Aily scrambled up easily, swinging delightedly on a rope, and then flinging herself out of the hole. The lamb leapt up in a miraculous manner, and Julian handed Dai to the small girl.

Timmy was hauled up in the same way as he had been let down. He had badly wanted to stay with the other dogs – but nothing would make him leave George!

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Julian, scrambling out last of all. ‘Now let’s see. We could toboggan down this slope, and halfway up our own slope. That would save a lot of time. Aily, you’re to come with us to the farm.’

‘No,’ said Aily.

‘Yes, Aily bach,’ said Julian. ‘I want you to.’ He took her small hand in his and she smiled her sudden little smile, quite content to go along with this big, kind boy, even though she was afraid of going down to the farm for fear she should meet her mother.

‘Aily good girl,’ said Julian, setting the little thing on his toboggan.

They tobogganed down the slope at a great speed without any mishap, and halfway up the opposite slope. It seemed odd to be out in the dazzling daylight after the dark tunnels underground. Their adventure below began to seem slightly unreal!

‘We’ll leave the toboggans at the hut,’ said Julian, as they dragged them up the rest of the slope. ‘Anyone thirsty? I am. I think it must be something to do with that mine – my mouth got as dry as anything as soon as we were down there.’

Everyone said the same.

‘I’ll run into the hut and pour out some orangeade,’ said Anne. ‘You stack the toboggans in their place, Ju, and just see if there’s enough oil in the can out in the bunker – we’ll need to fill the stove tonight. And if there isn’t enough we must bring some up with us.’

Julian gave her the key of the hut and she unlocked it and went in with George. They poured orangeade into five cups, and drank thirstily. Their mouths were drier than they had ever been before! Anne felt thankful that she didn’t have to wait any longer for a drink.

‘I think the roof of my mouth would have stuck to my tongue!’ she said, putting down her cup. ‘That was lovely!’

‘There’s plenty of oil,’ reported Julian, coming to drink his orangeade. ‘My word – I needed this. I’d not like to work down in that mine.’

They locked the hut and set off down to the farm, munching their sandwiches hungrily. They tasted very good indeed, and even Aily asked for one after another. Timmy had his share, and once they missed him, and had to stop and call him.

‘Has he lost his bit of meat in the snow?’ wondered Anne. But no – he, like the rest of them, was suffering from a very dry mouth and was busy licking the snow, letting it melt in his mouth and trickle down his dry throat!

Mrs Jones was most surprised to see them. When she heard Julian’s request to telephone to the police, she looked worried.

‘It’s all right, Mrs Jones,’ said Julian, comfortingly. ‘It’s a message to them from Morgan. Everything is fine. We’ll tell you what’s happened as soon as he comes home. He might not like us to say anything till then!’

The police did not seem at all surprised to hear Julian’s message – they appeared to be expecting it!

‘We will see to the matter,’ said the sergeant, in his deep, stolid voice. ‘Thank you.’ And he rang off at once. Julian wondered what would happen next – what had Morgan arranged?

They were pleased to see Mrs Jones bringing in bowls of hot chicken soup, as they sat talking round the wood fire she had hurriedly lit in the living room.

‘Oh! Just what we feel like!’ said Anne, gratefully. ‘I’m still awfully thirsty – aren’t you, George? And look, Timmy – there’s a nice meaty bone for you! You are kind, Mrs Jones!’

‘You know – I feel pretty awful about all this now,’ said Julian. ‘We shouldn’t have interfered after Morgan said we weren’t to. I wish we hadn’t. He can’t think much of us!’

‘I vote we all apologise humbly,’ said Dick. ‘How could we have thought he was the villain of the piece? I know he’s dour and silent – but he didn’t look mean or cruel.’

‘We’d better stay down here at the farm till Morgan comes back,’ said George. ‘Quite apart from wanting to say I’m sorry, I’d like to know what happened!’

‘So would I,’ said Anne. ‘And Aily ought to wait for her father. He’ll want to know that she’s safe.’

So they asked Mrs Jones if they could stay till Morgan came home. She was delighted.

‘Of course, now,’ she said. ‘We’ve a roasting turkey today – and you shall come and have supper with us in our room for a change!’

This all sounded rather good. The children gathered round their fire to talk, and Timmy rested his head on George’s knee. She looked at his neck.

‘That man almost choked him,’ she said. ‘Oh look, Julian – he’s bruised all round his poor neck!’

‘Now don’t start moaning over Timmy’s neck again, for goodness’ sake!’ said Dick. ‘Honestly, George, I’m sure Tim thinks the adventure was worth a bruised neck! He’s not grumbling. He was jolly brave, I think – and didn’t he enjoy himself when the other dogs rushed into the cave, and he joined in the fight!’

‘I wonder what they’ll do about that poor old woman,’ said Anne. ‘She will be glad her son is alive, I suppose – but what a shock for her to know he’d lied to her, and sold what is really hers – that strange metal under the hill!’

‘Well – I imagine it won’t be allowed to be sold now,’ said Julian. ‘What a plan that was! To get men up that tunnel to mine the stuff – and to send it down by rafts to waiting ships, hidden in that creek. We ought to go down and examine the creek – it would be interesting to see what sort of a place it is down there. It must be well hidden in a fold of the cliff, I should think.’

‘Yes – let’s do that tomorrow,’ said George, thrilled. ‘I vote we stay here tonight. I feel tired after such an adventure! Don’t you?’

‘I do a bit,’ said Julian. ‘Well – I suppose there won’t be quite so much shuddering and shimmering and rumbling now! Funny that that hill should always have been so peculiar, isn’t it – “ploughs that will not plough, spades that will not dig!” Must be some kind of iron, I suppose, that magnetises things. Oh well – it’s all beyond me!’

Morgan came back with the shepherd when it was dark. Julian went straight up to the burly farmer.

‘We want to apologise for being such idiots,’ he said. ‘We shouldn’t have interfered after what you said.’

Morgan gave a broad smile. He seemed to be in a very good humour indeed.

‘Forget it, boy,’ he said. ‘All’s well now. The police came up the river tunnel, and all the men are safe in jail. Llewellyn Thomas is a sad man tonight. His mother is free and is staying with friends – poor lady, she doesn’t understand what has happened, and that is as well. And maybe now the right people will get that strange metal – it’s worth a hundred times its weight in gold!’

‘Come in for your supper, Morgan bach, and shepherd too!’ said Mrs Jones, in her lilting voice. ‘The children are coming too. We’ve a roasting turkey – it’s your birthday, Morgan boy!’

‘Well there now, I didn’t know it!’ said Morgan and gave his mother such a hug that she squealed. ‘Let’s go in to the turkey. I’ve had nothing all day.’

Soon they were all sitting down before the most enormous turkey that the children had ever seen in their lives! Morgan carved it swiftly. Then he said something to his mother in Welsh and she smiled and nodded.

‘Yes, you do that,’ she said.

Morgan collected some slices of turkey on a big enamel dish, and then went to the door that led from the living room into the farmyard. He roared loudly and the children jumped. What a voice!

‘DAI! TANG! BOB! DOON! RAFE! JOLL! HAL!’

‘He’s calling the dogs,’ said Anne. ‘Just as he called them up the tunnel. Well – they certainly deserve a good dinner!’

Then down to the door came the seven dogs, jostling each other, barking excitedly. Morgan threw them the slices of turkey, and they gobbled the tasty bits up greedily.

‘Woof!’ said Timmy politely from behind him, and Morgan turned. He solemnly cut a big slice and a little slice.

‘Here!’ he said to Timmy and little Dai. ‘You did well too! Catch!’

‘There’ll not be much left of your birthday turkey!’ said his mother, half-cross, half-amused. ‘Now fill your glasses again, children, and we will drink to my Morgan – a better son there never was!’

Anne poured home-made lemonade into the empty glasses, while Morgan sat and smiled, listening to his seven dogs still barking together outside.

‘Happy birthday, happy birthday!’ shouted everyone, raising their glasses, and Julian added his own few words.

‘Happy birthday – and may your voice NEVER grow less!’

Five on Finniston Farm

CONTENTS

1 THE FIVE ARE ALL TOGETHER AGAIN

2 FINNISTON FARM

3 OUT IN THE BARN

4 JUNIOR!

5 EVENING AT THE FARM

6 A LITTLE EXCITEMENT FOR BREAKFAST

7 THE TWINS CHANGE THEIR MINDS

8 ALL ROUND THE FARM

9 A VERY INTERESTING TALE

10 QUITE A BIT OF SHOUTING

11 A MOST EXCITING TALE

12 REALLY VERY THRILLING

13 JUNIOR SPRINGS A SURPRISE

14 SNIPPET AND NOSEY ARE VERY HELPFUL

15 DIGGING FOR THE SECRET TUNNEL

16 UP THE TUNNEL AND INTO THE CELLARS

17 TRAPPED!

18 A GREAT STORY TO TELL!

19 ‘THE MOST EXCITING ADVENTURE WE’VE EVER HAD!’

CHAPTER ONE

The Five are all together again

‘PHEW!’ SAID Julian, mopping his wet forehead. ‘What a day! Let’s go and live at the equator – it would be cool compared to this!’

He stood leaning on his bicycle, out of breath with a long steep ride up a hill. Dick grinned at him. ‘You’re out of training, Ju!’ he said. ‘Let’s sit down for a bit and look at the view. We’re pretty high up!’

They leant their bicycles against a nearby gate and sat down, their backs against the lower bars. Below them spread the Dorset countryside, shimmering in the heat of the day, the distance almost lost in a blue haze. A small breeze came wandering round, and Julian sighed in relief.

‘I’d never have come on this biking trip if I’d guessed it was going to be as hot as this!’ he said. ‘Good thing Anne didn’t come – she’d have given up the first day.’

‘George wouldn’t have minded,’ said Dick. ‘She’s game enough for anything.’

‘Good old Georgina,’ said Julian, shutting his eyes. ‘I’ll be glad to see the girls again. Fun to be on our own of course – but things always seem to happen when the four of us are together.’

‘Five, you mean,’ said Dick, tipping his cap over his eyes. ‘Don’t forget old Timmy. What a dog! Never knew one that had such a wet lick as Tim. I say – won’t it be fun to meet them all! Don’t let’s forget the time, Julian. Hey, wake up, stupid! If we go to sleep now we won’t be in time to meet the girls’ bus.’

Julian was almost asleep. Dick looked at him and laughed. Then he looked at his watch, and did a little calculating. It was half past two.

‘Let’s see now – Anne and George will be on the bus that stops at Finniston Church at five past three,’ he thought. ‘Finniston is about a mile away, down this hill. I’ll give old Julian fifteen minutes to have a nap – and hope to goodness I don’t fall asleep myself !’

He felt his own eyes closing after a minute, and got up at once to walk about. The two girls and Tim must be met, because they would have suitcases with them, which the boys planned to wheel along on their bicycles.

The Five were going to stay at a place called Finniston Farm, set on a hill above the little village of Finniston. None of them had been there before, nor even heard of it. It had all come about because George’s mother had heard from an old school friend, who had told her that she was taking paying guests at her farmhouse – and had asked her to recommend visitors to her. George had promptly said she would like to go there with her cousins in the summer holidays.

‘Hope it’s a good place!’ thought Dick, gazing down into the valley, where cornfields waved in the little breeze. ‘Anyway, we shall only be there for two weeks – and it will be fun to be together again.’

He looked at his watch. ‘Time to go!’ He gave Julian a push. ‘Hey – wake up!’

‘’Nother ten minutes,’ muttered Julian, trying to turn over, as if he were in bed. He rolled against the gate-bars and fell on to the hard dry earth below. He sat up in surprise. ‘Gosh – I thought I was in bed!’ he said. ‘I could have gone on sleeping for hours.’

‘Well, it’s time to go and meet that bus,’ said Dick. ‘I’ve had to walk about all the time you were asleep, I was so afraid I’d go off myself. Come on, Julian – we really must go!’

They rode down the hill, going cautiously round the sharp corners, remembering how many times they had met herds of cows, wide farm carts, tractors and the like, on their way through this great farming county. Ah – there was the village, at the bottom of the hill. It looked old and peaceful and half-asleep.

‘Thank goodness it sells ginger-beer and ice-creams!’ said Dick, seeing a small shop with a big sign in the window. ‘I feel as if I want to hang out my tongue, like Timmy does, I’m so thirsty!’

‘Let’s find the church and the bus stop,’ said Julian. ‘I saw a spire as we rode down the hill, but it disappeared when we got near the bottom.’

‘There’s the bus!’ said Dick, as he heard the noise of wheels rumbling along in the distance. ‘Look, here it comes. We’ll follow it.’

‘There’s Anne in it – and George, look!’ shouted Julian. ‘We’re here exactly on time! Hey, George!’

The bus came to a stop by the old church, and out jumped Anne and George, each with a suitcase – and out leapt old Timmy too, his tongue hanging down, very glad to be out of the hot, jerky, smelly bus.

‘There are the boys!’ shouted George, and waved wildly as the bus went off again. ‘Julian! Dick! I’m so glad you’re here to meet us!’

The two boys rode up, and jumped off their bikes, while Timmy leapt round them, barking madly. They thumped the girls on their backs, and grinned at them. ‘Just the same old couple!’ said Dick. ‘You’ve got a spot on your chin, George, and why on earth have you tied your hair into a ponytail, Anne?’

‘You’re not very polite, Dick,’ said George, bumping him with her suitcase. ‘I can’t think why Anne and I looked forward so much to seeing you again. Here, take my suitcase – haven’t you any manners?’

‘Plenty,’ said Dick, and grabbed the case. ‘I just can’t get over Anne’s new hair-do. I don’t like it, Anne – do you, Ju? Ponytail! A donkey tail would suit you better Anne!’

‘It’s all right – it’s just because the back of my neck was so hot,’ said Anne, shaking her hair free in a hurry. She hated her brothers to find fault with her. Julian gave her arm a squeeze.

‘Nice to see you both,’ he said. ‘What about some ginger-beer and ice-cream? There’s a shop over there that sells them. And I’ve a sudden longing for nice juicy plums!’

‘You haven’t said a word to Timmy yet,’ said George, half offended. ‘He’s been trotting round you and licking your hands – and he’s so dreadfully hot and thirsty!’

‘Shake paws, Tim,’ said Dick, and Timmy politely put up his right paw. He shook hands with Julian too and then promptly went mad, careering about and almost knocking over a small boy on a bicycle.

‘Come on, Tim – want an ice-cream?’ said Dick, laying his hand on the big dog’s head. ‘Hark at him panting, George – I bet he wishes he could unzip his hairy coat and take it off ! Don’t you Tim?’

‘Woof !’ said Tim, and slapped his tail against Dick’s legs.

They all trooped into the ice-cream shop. It was half dairy, half baker’s. A small girl of about ten came to serve them.

‘Mum’s lying down,’ she said. ‘What can I get you? Ice-creams, I suppose? That’s what everyone wants today.’

‘You supposed right,’ said Julian. ‘A large one each, please – five in all – and four bottles of ginger pop as well.’

‘Five ice-creams – do you want one for that dog, then?’ said the girl in surprise, looking at Timmy.

‘Woof,’ he said at once.

‘There you are,’ said Dick, ‘he said yes!’

Soon the Five were eating their cold ice-creams, Timmy licking his from a saucer. Before he had had many licks, the ice-cream slid from the saucer, and Timmy chased it all the way round the shop, as it slid away from his vigorous licks. The little girl watched him, fascinated.

‘I must apologise for his manners,’ said Julian, solemnly. ‘He hasn’t been very well brought up.’ He at once had a glare from George, and grinned. He opened his bottle of ginger-beer. ‘Nice and cold,’ he said. ‘Here’s a happy fortnight to us all!’ He drank half the glass at top speed, and set it down with a great sigh.

‘Well, blessings on the person who invented ice-cream, ginger pop and the rest!’ he said. ‘I’d rather invent things like that any day than rockets and bombs. Ha – I feel better now. What about you others? Do you feel like going to find the farm?’

‘Whose farm?’ asked the little girl, coming out from behind the counter to pick up Timmy’s saucer. Timmy gave her a large, wet and loving lick as she bent down.

‘Ooooh!’ she said, pushing him away. ‘He licked all down my face!’

‘Probably thought you were an ice-cream,’ said Dick, giving her his hanky to wipe her cheek. ‘The farm we want is called Finniston Farm. Do you know it?’

‘Oh yes,’ said the little girl. ‘You go down the village street, right to the end, and turn up the lane there – up to the right. The farmhouse is at the top of the lane. Are you staying with the Philpots?’

‘Yes. Do you know them?’ asked Julian, getting out some money to pay the bill.

‘I know the twins there,’ said the girl. ‘The two Harries. At least, I don’t know them well – nobody does. They’re just wrapped up in each other, they never make any friends. You look out for their old great-grandad – he’s a one he is! He once fought a mad bull and knocked it out! And his voice – you can hear it for miles! I was real scared of going near the farm when I was little. But Mrs Philpot, she’s nice. You’ll like her. The twins are very good to her – and to their dad, too – work like farm hands all the holidays. You won’t know t’other from which, they’re so alike!’

‘Why did you call them the two Harries?’ asked Anne, curiously.

‘Oh, because they’ve both . . .’ began the child, and then broke off as a plump woman came bustling into the shop.

‘Janie – you go and see to the baby for me – I’ll see to the shop now. Run along!’

Away went the small girl, scuttling through the door.

‘Little gasbag she is!’ said her mother. ‘Anything more you want?’

‘No thanks,’ said Julian, getting up. ‘We must go. We’re to stay at Finniston Farm, so we may be seeing you again soon. We liked the ice-creams!’

‘Oh – so you’re going there, are you?’ said the plump woman. ‘I wonder how you’ll get on with the Harries! And keep out of Grandad’s way – he’s over eighty, but he can still give a mighty good thumping to anyone who crosses him!’

The Five went out into the hot sun again. Julian grinned round at the others. ‘Well – shall we go and find the nice Mrs Philpot – the unfriendly Harries, whoever they might be – and the fearsome great-grandad? Sounds interesting, doesn’t it?’

CHAPTER TWO

Finniston Farm

THE FOUR children, with Timmy trotting beside them, walked down the hot, dusty village street until they came to the end, and then saw the lane turning off to the right, just as the little girl had told them.

‘Wait a minute,’ said Anne, stopping at a curious little shop at the end of the village street. ‘Look – here’s an interesting shop. It sells antiques. Look at those old horse-brasses – I’d like to get one or two of those. And just see those lovely old prints!’

‘Oh no – not now, Anne,’ said Julian, with a groan. ‘This awful craze of yours for second-hand shops has been going on too long! Horse-brasses! You’ve got stacks of them already! If you think we’re going to go into that dark, smelly little shop and . . .’

‘Oh, I’m not going in now,’ said Anne, hurriedly. ‘But it does look rather exciting. I’ll come by myself sometime and browse round.’ She glanced at the name on the shop front. ‘William Finniston – how funny to have the same name as the village! I wonder if . . .’

‘Oh come on,’ said George impatiently, and Timmy tugged at her skirt. Anne gave one backward glance at the fascinating little shop window, and hurried after the others, making up her mind to slip down to the shop one day when she was alone.

They all went up the little winding lane, where red poppy-heads jigged about in the breeze, and after a while they came in sight of the farmhouse. It was a big one, three storeys high, with whitewashed walls, and the rather small windows belonging to the age in which it was built. Old-fashioned red and white roses rambled over the porch, and the old wooden door stood wide open.

The Five stood on the scrubbed stone entrance, looking into the dim hall. An old wooden chest stood there, and a carved chair. A rather threadbare rug lay on the stone floor, and a grandfather clock ticked slowly and loudly.

Somewhere a dog barked, and Timmy at once barked back. ‘WOOF, WOOF!’

‘Be quiet, Timmy,’ said George sharply, afraid that a horde of farm dogs might come rushing out. She looked for a bell or a knocker, but couldn’t see either. Then Dick spotted a beautiful wrought-iron handle hanging down from the roof of the porch. Could it be a bell?

He pulled it, and at once a bell jangled very loudly somewhere in the depths of the farmhouse, making them all jump. They stood in silence, waiting for someone to come. Then they heard footsteps and two children came up the hallway.

They were exactly alike! The most twinny twins I’ve ever seen, thought Anne, in amazement. Julian smiled his friendliest smile. ‘Good afternoon – I – er – I hope you’re expecting us.’

The twins stared at him without a smile. They nodded together. ‘Come this way,’ they both said, and marched back down the hall. The four stared at one another in surprise.

‘Why so stiff and haughty?’ whispered Dick, putting on a face exactly like the twins’. Anne giggled. They all followed the twins, who were dressed exactly alike in navy shorts and navy shirts. They went right down the long hall, passed a stairway, round a dark corner, and into an enormous kitchen, which was obviously used as a sitting-room as well.

‘The Kirrins, Mother!’ said the twins, together, and at once disappeared through another door, shoulder to shoulder. The children found themselves facing a pleasant-looking woman standing by a table, her hands white with flour. She smiled, and then gave a little laugh.

‘Oh, my dears! I didn’t expect you quite so soon! Do forgive my not being able to shake hands with you – but I was just making scones for your tea. I’m so pleased to see you. Did you have a good journey here?’

It was nice to hear her welcoming voice and see her wide smile. The Five warmed to her at once. Julian put down the suitcase he was carrying and looked round the room.

‘What a lovely old place!’ he said. ‘You carry on with your scone-making, Mrs Philpot – we’ll look after ourselves. Just tell us where to go. It’s nice of you to have us.’

‘I’m glad to,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I expect your aunt told you the farm’s not doing too well, and she kindly said she’d send you here for two weeks. I’ve some other boarders too – an American and his son – so I’m pretty busy.’

‘Well, you don’t need to bother too much about us,’ said Dick. ‘In fact, we’ll camp out under a haystack if you like – or in a barn. We’re used to roughing it!’

‘Well – that might be a help,’ said Mrs Philpot, going on with her mixing. ‘I’ve a bedroom that would do for the girls all right – but I’m afraid you boys would have to share one with the American boy – and – er – well, you mightn’t like him.’

‘Oh, I expect we’ll get on all right,’ said Julian. ‘But my brother and I would certainly prefer to be by ourselves, Mrs Philpot. What about putting up camp-beds or something in a barn? We’d love that!’

Anne looked at Mrs Philpot’s kind, tired face, and felt suddenly sorry for her. How awful to have to have your home invaded by strangers, whether you liked them or not! She went over to her.

‘You tell Georgina and me anything you’d like us to do to help,’ she said. ‘You know – making the beds and dusting and things like that. We’re used to doing things at home, and . . .’

‘I’m going to enjoy having you!’ said Mrs Philpot, looking round at them all. ‘And you won’t need to help very much. The twins do a great deal – too much, I think, bless them – because they help on the farm too. Now, you go up the stairs to the very top of the house, and you’ll see two bedrooms, one on each side of the landing – the left-hand one is yours, girls – the other is where the American boy is sleeping. And as for you two boys, you can slip out to the barn, and see if you’d like a couple of camp-beds there. I’ll get the twins to take you.’

The twins came back at this minute, and stood silently shoulder to shoulder, as alike as peas in a pod. George looked at them.

‘What’s your name?’ she said to one twin.

‘Harry!’ was the answer. She turned to the other. ‘And what’s yours?’

‘Harry!’

‘But surely you don’t have the same name?’ exclaimed George.

‘Well, you see,’ explained their mother, ‘we called the boy Henry, and he became Harry, of course – and we called the girl Harriet, and she calls herself Harry for short – so they’re known as the Harries.’

‘I thought they were both boys!’ said Dick in amazement. ‘I wouldn’t know which is which!’

‘Well, they felt they have to be alike,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘and as Harry can’t have long hair like a girl Harriet has to have shorter hair to be like Harry! I very often don’t know one from the other myself.’

Dick grinned. ‘Funny how some girls want to be boys!’ he said, with a sly glance at George, who gave him a furious look.

‘Twins, show the Kirrins up to the top bedroom,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘and then take the boys out to the big barn. They can have the old camp-beds, if they like the look of the barn.’

‘We sleep out there,’ said the Harries, both together, and scowled just like George.

‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ said their mother. ‘I told you to take your mattresses to the little room off the dairy.’

‘It’s too stuffy,’ said the twins.

‘Hang on – we don’t want to cause trouble,’ said Julian, feeling that the twins were too unfriendly for words. ‘Can’t we sleep in the room off the dairy?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Mrs Philpot, and sent the Harries a warning glance. ‘There’s room for you all in the big barn. Go on now, twins, do as I tell you, take the four up to the top bedroom, with the cases, and then out to the barn.’

The twins went to pick up the suitcases, still looking mutinous. Dick interposed himself between them and the cases. ‘ We’ll carry them,’ he said stiffly. ‘We don’t want to be any more trouble to you than we can help.’

And he and Julian picked up a suitcase each, and set off after the Harries, who looked suddenly surprised. George followed with Timmy, more amused than cross. Anne went to pick up a spoon that Mrs Philpot had dropped.

‘Thank you, dear,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Look – don’t get upset by the twins. They’re a funny pair – but good at heart. They just don’t like strangers in their home, that’s all. Promise you won’t mind them? I do want you to be happy here.’

Anne looked at the kindly, tired face of the woman beside her, and smiled. ‘We’ll promise not to worry about the twins – if you’ll promise not to worry about us!’ she said. ‘We can look after ourselves, you know – honestly, we’re used to it. And please do tell us when you want anything done!’

She went out of the room and up the stairs. The others were already in one of the two bedrooms at the top of the house. It was a fairly big room, white-washed, with rather a small window and boarded floors. Julian looked at the boards he was standing on. ‘I say! Look at the wood this floor’s made of – solid old oak, worn white with the years! This farmhouse must be very old. And look at the beams running across the walls and into the roof. Hey, twins, this is a wonderful old house!’

The twins unbent enough to nod in time together. ‘Seems as if you two go by clockwork – you speak the same words at the same time, you walk in time, you nod your heads in time!’ said Dick. ‘But, I say – do you ever smile?’

The twins looked at him with dislike. Anne nudged Dick. ‘Stop it, Dick! Don’t tease them. Perhaps they’d show you the barn now. We’ll unpack some clean things we’ve brought for you in our case, and come down with them when we’re ready.’

‘Right,’ said Dick, and he and Julian went out of the room. Opposite, with its door open, was the other room, where the American boy slept. It was so very untidy that Dick couldn’t help exclaiming. ‘Gosh – how does he get his room into all that mess?’ He and Julian went down the stairs, and Dick turned back to see if the Harries were following. He saw them standing at the top, each shaking a furious fist at the door of the American boy’s room. And what a furious look on their faces, too!

‘Whew!’ thought Dick. ‘The Harries have got some sort of grudge against him – let’s hope they don’t get one for us, too.’

‘Well – now for the barn,’ he said aloud. ‘Don’t go so fast, Ju. Wait for the twins – they’re just falling over themselves to look after us!’

CHAPTER THREE

Out in the barn

THE TWINS stalked out of the farmhouse and took the two boys round the dairy shed, and up to an enormous barn. One of them pushed open the great door.

‘I say!’ said Julian, gazing into the dark barn. ‘I never saw such a great barn in all my life! It’s as old as the hills – look at those beams soaring up into the roof – it reminds me of a cathedral, somehow. I wonder why they built the roof so high. What do you store in here, twins?’

‘Sacks of meal,’ said the Harries together, opening and shutting their mouths as one. The two boys saw a couple of camp-beds in a corner of the barn.

‘Look,’ said Julian, ‘if you really would rather sleep here alone, we’ll sleep in the little room off the dairy that your mother spoke of.’

Before the twins could answer, a shrill barking came from the direction of the camp-beds, and the boys saw a tiny black poodle there, standing up, quivering in every hair.

‘What a tiny thing!’ said Julian. ‘Is he yours? What’s his name?’

‘Snippet,’ came the answer from both at once. ‘Come here, Snippet!’

At once the tiny black poodle hurled himself off the camp-bed and raced over to them. He fawned on them all, barking in delight, licking everyone in turn. Dick picked him up, but the twins at once clutched Snippet themselves.

‘He’s OUR dog!’ they said so fiercely that Dick backed away.

‘All right, all right – you can have him. But be careful Tim doesn’t eat him!’ he said. A look of fear came over the faces of the Harries, and they turned to one another, anxiously.

‘It’s all right,’ said Julian, hastily. ‘Tim’s gentle with small things. You needn’t be afraid. I say – why do you have to be so silly? It really wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit friendly. And do let us sleep in your old room – we really don’t mind.’

The twins looked at each other again, as if reading one another’s thoughts, and then they turned gravely to the boys, not looking quite so unfriendly.

‘We will all sleep here,’ they said. ‘We will fetch the other camp-beds.’ And off they marched, Snippet running excitedly at their heels.

Julian scratched his head. ‘Those twins make me feel peculiar,’ he said. ‘I don’t feel they are quite real. The way they act and speak together makes me feel as if they’re puppets or something.’

‘They’re just jolly rude and unfriendly,’ said Dick, bluntly. ‘Oh well – they won’t get in our way much. I vote we explore the farm tomorrow. It looks quite a big one – spreading out over the hill slopes everywhere. I wonder if we could get a ride on a tractor?’

At that moment a bell rang loudly from the direction of the house. ‘What’s that for?’ said Dick. ‘Tea, I hope!’

The twins came back at that moment with two more camp-beds, which they proceeded to set up as far from their own as possible. Dick went to give a hand, but they waved him off, and put up the beds most efficiently and quickly by themselves.

‘Tea is ready,’ they said, standing up when the beds were finished, and blankets and pillows set out on them. ‘We will show you where to wash.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dick and Julian together, and then grinned at one another. ‘Better be careful,’ said Julian, ‘or we’ll catch their habit of speaking exactly at the same moment. I say – isn’t that poodle funny – look at him stalking that jackdaw!’

A black jackdaw, the nape of his neck showing grey as he ran in front of Snippet, had flown down from somewhere in the roof of the barn. As Snippet danced after him he ran behind sacks, scurried into corners and led the little dog such a dance that the two boys roared. Even the twins smiled.

‘Chack!’ said the jackdaw, and rose into the air. He settled himself on the middle of the poodle’s back, and Snippet promptly went mad, and tore about the barn at top speed.

‘Roll over, Snippet!’ shouted the Harries, and Snippet at once flung himself on his back – but the jackdaw, with a triumphant ‘chack’ rose at once into the air, and alighted on one twin’s head.

‘I say, is he tame?’ said Dick. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Nosey. He’s ours. He fell down a chimney and broke his wing,’ said the twins. ‘So we kept him till it was well and now he won’t leave us.’

‘Gosh!’ said Dick, staring at them. ‘Did you really say all that – or was it the jackdaw? You can talk properly, after all.’

Nosey pecked at the twin’s ear nearest to him, and the twin gave a yell. ‘Stop it, Nosey!’ The jackdaw rose into the air, with a ‘chack-chack-chack’ that sounded very like a laugh, and disappeared somewhere in the roof.

Just then the two girls came to find the boys in the barn, sent by Mrs Philpot, who was sure they hadn’t heard the bell. Timmy was with them, of course, sniffing into every corner, enjoying the farm smells everywhere. They came to the barn and looked in.

‘Oh, there you are!’ called Anne. ‘Mrs Philpot said we . . .’

Timmy began to bark, and she stopped. He had caught sight of Snippet sniffing behind the sacks, still hunting for the cheeky jackdaw. He stood still and stared. What in the wide world was that funny little black creature? He gave another loud bark and shot over towards the poodle, who gave a terrified yelp and leapt into the arms of one of the twins.

‘Take your dog away,’ said both twins, fiercely, glaring at the four.

‘It’s all right – he won’t hurt Snippet,’ said George, advancing on Timmy and taking hold of his collar. ‘He really won’t.’

‘TAKE YOUR DOG AWAY!’ shouted the twins, and up in the roof somewhere the jackdaw said, ‘CHACK, CHACK, CHACK!’ just as fiercely.

‘All right, all right,’ said George, glaring as angrily as the twins. ‘Come on, Tim. That poodle wouldn’t be more than a mouthful for you, anyway!’

They all went back to the farmhouse in silence, Snippet having been left behind on the camp-bed belonging to one of the twins. They cheered up when they came into the big, cool kitchen. Tea was now laid on the farmhouse table, a big solid affair of old, old oak. Chairs were set round and it all looked very home-like.

‘Hot scones,’ said George, lifting the lid of a dish. ‘I never thought I’d like hot scones on a summer’s day, but these look heavenly. Running with butter! Just how I like them!’

The four looked at the home-made buns and biscuits and the great fruit cake. They stared at the dishes of home-made jam, and the big plate of ripe plums. Then they looked at Mrs Philpot, sitting behind a very big teapot, pouring out cups of tea.

‘You mustn’t spoil us, Mrs Philpot,’ said Julian, thinking that really his hostess was doing too much. ‘Please don’t let us make too much work for you!’

A loud, commanding voice suddenly made them all jump. Sitting in a big wooden armchair near the window was someone they hadn’t seen – a burly old man with a shock of snowy white hair and a luxuriant white beard almost down to his waist. His eyes were startlingly bright as he looked across at them.

‘TOO MUCH WORK! What’s that you say? TOO MUCH WORK? Ha, people nowadays don’t know what work is, they don’t! Grumble, grumble, GRUMBLE, asking for this and expecting that! Pah! PAH, I say!’

‘Now now, Grandad,’ said Mrs Philpot, gently. ‘You just sup your tea and rest. You’ve been out on the farm all day, and it’s too much work for you.’

That set the old man off again. ‘TOO MUCH WORK! Now let me tell you something. When I was a young lad, I . . . hallo, who’s this?’

It was Timmy! He had been startled by the sudden shouting of the old man, and had stood up, his hackles rising, and a low growl down in his throat. And then a very curious thing happened.

Timmy walked slowly over to the fierce old man, stood by him – and laid his head gently on his knee! Everyone stared in astonishment, and George could hardly believe her eyes!

At first the old man took no notice. He just let Timmy stay there, and went on with his shouting. ‘No one knows anything these days. They don’t know a good sheep or a good bull or a good dog. They . . .’

Timmy moved his head a little, and the old man stopped again. He looked down at Timmy, and patted him on the head. ‘Now here’s a dog – a REAL dog. A dog that could be the best friend any man ever had. Ah, he reminds me of my old True, he does.’

George was staring in amazement at Timmy. ‘He’s never done a thing like that before,’ she said.

‘All dogs are like that with old Grandad,’ said Mrs Philpot softly. ‘Don’t mind his shouting. He’s like that. See – your Timmy is lying down by Grandad – now they’ll both be happy. Grandad will have his tea and be nice and quiet. Don’t take any notice of him now.’

Still astonished, the children ate a marvellous tea, and were soon talking eagerly to Mrs Philpot, asking her questions about the farm.

‘Yes, of course you can go on the tractor. And we’ve an old Land Rover too – you can motor round the farm in that, if you like. Wait till my husband comes in – he’ll tell you what you can do.’

Nobody saw a little black shadow come in at the door, and sidle softly over to Grandad – Snippet the poodle! He had left the barn and come to the kitchen he loved. It was only when Mrs Philpot turned round to ask the old man to have another cup of tea that she saw a very strange sight indeed. She nudged the twins, and they hurried to look.

They saw Timmy lying peacefully down on Grandad’s big feet – and Snippet the poodle lying between Timmy’s great front paws! Well – what an astonishing sight to be sure!

‘Grandad’s happy now,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Two dogs at his feet. And now, look – here’s my husband! Come along in, Trevor – we’re all here, the dogs as well!’

CHAPTER FOUR

Junior!

A BIG MAN came into the kitchen, very like the twins to look at. He stooped, and seemed tired. He didn’t smile, but just nodded.

‘Trevor, here are the visitors I told you about,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Look, this is Julian and . . .’

‘More visitors?’ said Trevor with a groan. ‘Good heavens – what a crowd of children! Where’s that American boy? I’ve got a bone to pick with him. He tried to set the tractor going by himself this morning, and . . .’

‘Oh, Trevor – never mind about that now. Just wash and come and have your tea,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I’ve kept some of your favourite scones for you.’

‘Don’t want any tea,’ said her husband. ‘Can’t stop – except for just one cup, and that I’ll take in the dairy. I’ve got to go and see to the milking. Bob’s off today.’

‘We’ll help, Dad!’ said the twins speaking together, as usual, and they got up from the table at once.

‘No – you sit down,’ said their mother. ‘You’ve been on the go from seven o’clock this morning. Sit down and finish your tea in peace.’

‘I could do with your help, twins,’ said their father, as he went through the door towards the dairy, ‘but now your mother’s got so many on her hands, she’ll need you more than I do!’

‘Mrs Philpot – let the twins go if they want to,’ said Julian at once. ‘We can help, you know – we’re used to helping at home.’

‘And what’s more, we like it,’ said Anne. ‘Do let us, Mrs Philpot – we’ll feel much more at home then. Can’t we clear away and wash up and all that, while the twins go and help with the milking?’

‘YOU LET ’EM HELP!’ shouted old Great-Grandad suddenly from his corner, making Timmy and Snippet leap to their feet, startled. ‘WHAT ARE CHILDREN COMING TO NOWADAYS – WAITED ON HAND AND FOOT? PAH!’

‘Now, now, Grandad,’ said poor Mrs Philpot. ‘Don’t you start worrying. We can manage fine.’

The old man made a loud, explosive noise, and banged his hand down on the arm of his chair. ‘WHAT I SAY IS THIS . . .’

But he got no further, for the sound of footsteps could be heard in the hall, coming towards the kitchen, and loud, American voices came nearer and nearer.

‘See here, Pop – I wanna come with you! This place is dead. You take me up to London with you, aw, Pop, go on, do!’

‘That the Americans?’ asked Dick, turning to the twins. Their faces had gone as dark as thunder. They nodded. In came a burly man, looking rather odd in smart town clothes, and a plump pasty-faced boy of about eleven. The father stood at the door and looked round rubbing his hands.

‘Hiya, folks! We’ve been over to that swell old town and picked up some fine souvenirs – my, my, they were cheap as dirt! We late for tea? Hallo, who’re all these folks?’

He grinned round at Julian and the others. Julian stood up politely. ‘We’re four cousins,’ he said. ‘We’ve come to stay here.’

‘Stay here? Where you gonna sleep, then?’ demanded the boy, pulling up a chair to the table. ‘This is a one-eyed place, ain’t it, Pop.’

‘Shut up,’ said the twins together, and gave the boy such a glare that Anne stared in astonishment.

‘Aw, go on, I can say what I like, can’t I?’ said the boy. ‘Free country, isn’t it? Gee, you should just see America! That’s something! Mrs Philpot, I’ll have a bit of that cake – looks good to me.’

‘CAN’T YOU SAY PLEASE?’ roared a voice from the corner. That was Great-Grandad of course! But the boy took no notice, and merely held out his plate, while Mrs Philpot cut him an enormous slice of cake.

‘I’ll have the same as Junior, Mrs Philpot ma’am,’ said the American, and sat down at the table. He held out his plate too. ‘Say, you should see the things we’ve bought. We’ve had a day, haven’t we, Junior?’

‘Sure, Pop,’ said Junior. ‘Say, can’t I have an iced drink? Look here – who’s going to drink hot tea on a day like this!’

‘I’ll get you some iced lemonade,’ said Mrs Philpot, rising.

‘LET HIM GET IT HIMSELF! LITTLE BRAT!’ That was Great-Grandad again, of course. But the twins were already up and on their way to fetch the lemonade themselves. George caught sight of their faces as they passed her, and had a shock of surprise. Goodness – how those twins hated that boy!

‘That old grand-daddy of yours must be a bit of a nuisance to you,’ said the American in a low voice to Mrs Philpot. ‘Always butting in, isn’t he? Rude old fellow, too.’

‘NOW DON’T YOU SIT THERE WHISPERING!’ shouted Grandad. ‘I CAN HEAR EVERY WORD!’

‘Now, now, Grandad, don’t upset yourself,’ said poor Mrs Philpot. ‘You just sit there and have a nap.’

‘No. I’m going out again,’ said Great-Grandad heaving himself up. ‘There’s some people here that fair make me ill!’

And out he went leaning on his stick, a magnificent figure with his head of snow-white hair and his long beard.

‘Like someone out of the Old Testament,’ said Anne to Dick. Timmy got up and followed the old man to the door, with Snippet close behind him. Junior saw Timmy at once.

‘Hey! Look at that big dog!’ he said. ‘Who’s he? I’ve not seen him before. Hey, you, come and have a bun.’

Timmy took not the slightest notice. George addressed Junior in an icy voice. ‘That’s my dog Timmy. I don’t allow anyone to feed him except me.’

‘Shucks!’ said Junior and threw the cake down on the floor, so that it slid to Tim’s feet. ‘That’s for you, dog!’

Timmy looked down at the cake, and stood perfectly still. Then he looked at George. ‘Come here, Timmy,’ said George, and he walked straight to her. The cake lay on the floor half-broken into crumbs.

‘My dog is not going to eat that,’ said George. ‘Better pick it up, hadn’t you? It’s made a bit of a mess on the floor.’

‘Pick it up yourself,’ said Junior, helping himself to another bun. ‘Gee – what a glare you’ve got! Makes me want my sunglasses, brother!’ He gave George a sudden sharp dig in the ribs, and she gasped. Timmy was beside her in a moment, growling so deeply that Junior slid out of his seat in alarm.

‘Say, Pop – this dog’s fierce!’ he said. ‘He tried to bite me!’

‘He did not,’ said George. ‘But he might bite if you don’t do what I said, and pick up that bun!’

‘Now, now,’ said Mrs Philpot, really distressed. ‘Leave it – it can be swept up afterwards. Will you have another piece of cake, Mr Henning?’

It really was an embarrassing meal, and Anne longed for it to be over. Junior quietened down considerably when he saw Timmy lying down between his chair and George’s, but his father made up for that by talking non-stop about the ‘wunnerful’ things he had bought that day. Everyone was extremely bored. The twins came back with a jug of orangeade, which they placed on the table, with two glasses, in case Mr Henning wanted some. They then disappeared.

‘Where have they gone?’ demanded Junior, having poured a glass of orangeade straight down his throat in a most remarkable manner. ‘Gee, that was good.’

‘The twins have gone to help with the milking, I expect,’ said Mrs Philpot, looking suddenly very weary. Julian looked at her. She must find these meals very tiring, he thought, coping with so many people. Junior piped up at once.

‘I’ll go and help with the milking,’ he said, and slid off his chair.

‘I’d rather you didn’t, Junior,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘You upset the cows a bit last time, you know.’

‘Aw gee – that was because I was new to it,’ said Junior. Julian looked at Mr Henning, expecting him to forbid Junior to go, but he said nothing. He lit a cigarette and threw the match down on the floor.

George scowled when she saw Junior heading for the door. How dare he go out to the milking against the wishes of his hostess? She murmured a few words to Timmy, and he got up at once and ran to the door, barring it against Junior.

‘Get out of my way, you,’ said Junior, stopping. Timmy growled. ‘Say, call him back, will you?’ said Junior, turning round. No one said anything. Mrs Philpot rose and began to gather things together. It seemed to George as if she had tears in her eyes. No wonder, if this kind of thing happened every day!

As Timmy stood like a statue in the doorway, giving small threatening growls every now and again, Junior decided to give up. He dearly longed to give the dog a kick, but didn’t dare to. He walked back to his father.

‘Say, Pop – coming for a walk?’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Without a word father and son walked out of the other door. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

‘You go and sit down and have a rest, Mrs Philpot,’ said Anne. ‘We’ll do the washing-up. We’d love to!’

‘Well – it’s really kind of you,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I’ve been on the go all day, and twenty minutes’ rest will do me good. I’m afraid Junior gets on my nerves. I do hope Timmy won’t bite him!’

‘He’ll give him a nip before long,’ said George cheerfully, collecting cups and saucers with Anne. ‘What are you boys going to do? Go to the milking shed?’

‘Yes. We’ve milked cows plenty of times,’ said Dick. ‘Nice job! I like the smell of cows. See you later, girls – and if that little pest tries any tricks, just give us a call! I’d love to rub his face into that crumby mess on the floor!’

‘I’m just going to sweep it up,’ said Anne. ‘See you at supper-time!’

The boys went out, whistling. Mrs Philpot had disappeared. Only George, Anne and Timmy were left, for Snippet had gone out with the Harries.

‘I rather wish we hadn’t come,’ said George, carrying out a tray to the scullery. ‘It’s an awful lot for Mrs Philpot to do. Still – if she needs the money . . .’

‘Oh well – we can help – and we’ll be out most of the day,’ said Anne. ‘We shan’t see much of Junior – little beast!’

You’re wrong, Anne. You’ll see far too much of him! It’s a good thing Timmy’s there – he’s the only one that can manage people like Junior!

CHAPTER FIVE

Evening at the farm

GEORGE AND Anne went out to find the others in the milking shed. There were plenty of cows there, swishing their tails. The milking was almost finished, and the twins were driving some of the cows back to the field.

‘Hallo – how did you get on?’ asked Anne.

‘Fine – it was fun,’ said Dick. ‘My cows did better than Julian’s, though – I sang to them all the time, and they loved it!’

‘Silly!’ said George. ‘Did you have a talk with the farmer?’

‘Yes – he says he’s got an old Land Rover and he’ll take us all over the farm tomorrow,’ said Dick, pleased. ‘ And we can ride on that tractor, if Bill – that’s one of his farm hands – will let us. He says Bill won’t have Junior on the tractor at any price – so maybe there’ll be a row if he sees us on it!’

‘Well, I’m all ready for a row, and so is Timmy,’ said George grimly. ‘Sooner or later I’m going to tell Junior a few home-truths.’

‘We’d all like to do that,’ said Julian. ‘But let’s hold our horses till a good moment comes – I don’t want that nice Mrs Philpot upset – and you know, if we caused her to lose the two Americans she might suffer badly – in her pocket! I bet they pay well.’

‘Well – I understand all that too, Ju,’ said George. ‘But Timmy doesn’t. He’s longing to have a go at Junior!’

‘And how I share that feeling!’ said Dick, rubbing Timmy’s big head. ‘What’s the time? Shall we go for a walk?’

‘No,’ said Julian. ‘My legs feel stiff with cycling up so many Dorset hills today. I vote we just stroll around a bit, not go for miles.’

The Five set off together, wandering round the farm buildings. They were all very old, some of them falling to pieces. The roofs had great Dorset tiles, made of stone, uneven and roughly shaped. They were a lovely grey, and were brilliant with lichen and moss.

‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ said George, stopping to look at the tiles on a small outhouse. ‘Look at that lichen. Did you ever see such a brilliant orange? But what a pity – half of them have gone from this roof, and someone has replaced them with horrid new tiles!’

‘Maybe the Philpots sold them,’ said Julian. ‘Old tiles like that, brilliant with lichen, can fetch quite a bit of money – especially from Americans. There’s many a barn out in America covered with old tiles from this country, moss and all. A bit of old England!’

‘If I had a lovely old place like this I wouldn’t sell one single tile, or one single bit of moss!’ said George, quite fiercely.

‘Maybe you wouldn’t,’ said Dick. ‘But some would – if they loved their farm enough and didn’t want to see it go to pieces for lack of money. Their fields would be worth more than old tiles to them!’

‘I bet old Grandad wouldn’t sell them if he could help it!’ said Anne. ‘I wonder if the American has tried to buy any of these tiles? I guess he has.’

They had an interesting time wandering round. They found one old barn-like shed stacked with ancient castaway junk, and Julian rummaged in it with great interest.

‘Look at this giant cart-wheel!’ he said, peering into a dark corner. ‘It’s almost as tall as I am! My word – they must have made all their own wheels here in the old days – in this very shed, perhaps. And maybe their own tools too. Look at this old tool – what in the world is it?’

They gazed at the curious curved tool, still as strong and as good as it had been two or three centuries before. It was heavy and Julian thought that he wouldn’t have liked to use it for more than ten minutes at a time!

‘But I bet old Grandad could use it for a whole day and never get tired,’ he said. ‘When he was a young man, I mean. He must have been as strong as an ox, then.’

‘Well, you remember what the girl at the dairy said,’ put in Anne. ‘She said he had once fought a bull and knocked it out. We must ask him about that. I bet he’d love to tell us.’

‘He’s a real old character!’ said Julian. ‘I like him, shouts and temper and all. Come on – it’s getting lateish. We didn’t ask about the evening meal. I wonder what time we ought to get back for it?’

‘Half past seven,’ said George. ‘I asked. We’d better go back now, because we’ll have to get ourselves clean – and Anne and I want to help lay the table.’

‘Right. Back we go,’ said Julian. ‘Come on, Tim. Stop sniffing about that old rubbish. Surely you can’t smell anything exciting there!’

They went back to the farmhouse, and the girls went to wash at the kitchen sink, seeing Mrs Philpot already preparing for supper. ‘Won’t be a minute!’ called Anne. ‘We’ll do those potatoes for you, Mrs Philpot. I say, what a lovely farm this is. We’ve been exploring those old sheds.’

‘Yes – they need clearing out,’ said Mrs Philpot, who looked better for the rest she had had. ‘But old Great-Grandad, he won’t have them touched. Says he promised his grandad not to let them go to anyone! But we did sell some of those lovely old grey tiles once – to an American, of course, a friend of Mr Henning’s, and Grandad almost went out of his mind. Shouted day and night, poor old chap, and went about with a pitchfork in his hand all the time, daring any stranger even so much as to walk over the fields! We had such a time with him.’

‘Good gracious!’ said Anne, having a sudden vision of the grand old man stalking about his fields, shouting, and waving a great pitchfork.

Supper was really a very pleasant meal, for Mr Henning and Junior didn’t come in. There was much talk and laughter at the table, though the twins, as usual, said hardly anything. They puzzled Anne. Why should they be so unfriendly? She smiled at them once or twice, but each time they turned their eyes away. Snippet lay at their feet, and Timmy lay under the table. Great-Grandad was not there, nor was Mr Philpot.

‘They’re both making the best of the daylight,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘There’s a lot to do on the farm just now.’

The children enjoyed the meat-pie that Mrs Philpot had baked, and the stewed plums and rich cream that followed. Anne suddenly yawned a very large yawn.

‘Sorry!’ she said. ‘It just came all of a sudden. I don’t know why I feel so sleepy.’

‘You’ve set me off now,’ said Dick, and put his hand in front of an even larger yawn. ‘Well, I don’t wonder we feel sleepy. Ju and I set off at dawn this morning – and I know you girls had a jolly long bus ride!’

‘Well, you go to bed, all of you, as early as you like,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘I expect you’ll want to be up bright and early in the morning. The Harries are always up about six o’clock – they just will not stay in bed!’

‘And what time does Junior get up?’ asked George with a grin. ‘Six o’clock too?’

‘Oh, not before nine o’clock, usually,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Mr Henning comes down about eleven – he likes his breakfast in bed. So does Junior.’

‘WHAT? You don’t mean to say you take breakfast up to that lazy little pest?’ said Dick, astounded. ‘Why don’t you go and drag him out by the ankles?’

‘Well – they are guests and pay well for being here,’ said Mrs Philpot.

‘I’ll take Junior his breakfast,’ said George, much to everyone’s astonishment. ‘Timmy and I together. We’d like to. Wouldn’t we, Timmy?’

Timmy made a most peculiar noise from under the table. ‘That sounded like a laugh to me,’ said Dick. ‘And I’m not surprised! I’d just like to see Junior’s face if you and Tim walked in on him with his breakfast!’

‘Do you bet me I won’t do it?’ demanded George, really on the defensive now.

‘Yes. I do bet you,’ said Dick at once. ‘I bet you my new pocket-knife you won’t!’

‘Taken!’ said George. Mrs Philpot looked puzzled. ‘No, no, my dears,’ she said. ‘I can’t have one guest waiting on another. Though I must say those stairs are a trial to my legs, when I’m carrying up trays!’

‘I’ll take up Junior’s tray and Mr Henning’s too, if you like,’ said George, in a half-kind, half-fierce voice.

‘Not Mr Henning’s,’ said Julian, giving George a warning look. ‘Don’t go too far, old thing. Just Junior’s tray will be enough.’

‘All right, all right,’ said George, rather sulkily. ‘Aren’t Junior and Mr Henning coming in to supper?’

‘Not tonight,’ said Mrs Philpot, in a thankful voice. ‘They’re dining at some hotel in Dorchester, I think. I expect they get a bit tired of our simple farmhouse meals. I only hope they won’t be too late back. Great-Grandad likes to lock up early.’

The children were really glad when the evening meal was cleared away and washed up, for they all felt heavy with sleep. The good strong air, the exciting day and the many jobs they had done had really tired them.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Philpot,’ they said, when everything was done. ‘We’re off to bed. Are the twins coming too?’

The twins actually condescended to nod. They looked tired out. Julian wondered where Mr Philpot and old Great-Grandad were – still out working, he supposed. He yawned. Well, he was for bed – and even if he had had to sleep on the bare ground that night, he knew he would sleep well! He thought longingly of his camp-bed.

They went their various ways – the twins and Julian and Dick to the big barn – the girls upstairs to the room opposite Junior’s. George peeped into it. It was even untidier than before, and obviously Junior must have been eating nuts up there, for the floor was strewn with shells.

They were soon in bed – the girls together in the big, rather hard, old bed, the boys in their separate camp-beds. Timmy was on George’s feet, and Snippet slept first on one twin’s feet, and then on the other’s. He was always perfectly fair in his favours!

A crashing noise awoke the girls about two hours later, and they sat upright in bed, alarmed. Timmy began to bark. George crept to the top of the stairs, hearing Grandad’s loud voice below, and then crept back to Anne.

‘It’s Mr Henning and Junior come back,’ she said. ‘Apparently old Grandad had locked up, and they crashed and banged on the knocker. My, what a to-do! Here comes Junior!’ And indeed, here Junior did come, stamping up the stairs and singing loudly.

‘Little pest!’ said George. ‘Wait till I take him his breakfast tomorrow!’

CHAPTER SIX

A little excitement for breakfast

IT WAS fun to sleep in the barn. Dick tried to keep awake for a while, and enjoy the barn smell, and the sight of the stars in the sky seen through the open door, where a cool little night breeze came wandering in.

Julian fell asleep at once, and did not even hear the crashing of the knocker at the front door of the farmhouse when the Hennings came in, or the loud voices. He awoke with a start at about one o’clock in the morning, and sat straight up in bed, his heart beating fast. What on earth was that noise he had heard?

He heard it again and laughed. ‘What an ass I am! It’s only an owl. Or maybe more than one. And gosh, what was that high little scream? A mouse – or a rat? Perhaps the owls are hunting in here?’

He lay still and listened. He suddenly felt a rush of cool air over his face, and stiffened. That must have been an owl’s soft-feathered wings! Owls’ wings made no noise, he knew. The feathers were so soft that not even a quick-eared mouse could hear an owl swooping silently down!

There came another little high-pitched squeak. The owl’s doing his job well, thought Julian. What a fine hunting place for him – a barn where food stuffs are stored – overrun with mice and rats, of course. I bet this owl is worth his weight in gold to the farmer. Well, owl, do your job – but for goodness’ sake don’t mistake my nose for a mouse! Ah – there you go again – just over my head. I saw you then – a shadow passing by!

He fell asleep once more and didn’t wake until the sun streamed into the barn, lighting up hundreds of tiny motes floating in the air. Julian looked at his watch.

‘Half past seven! And I meant to be up at seven. Dick! Wake up!’

Dick was so sound asleep that he didn’t wake even when Julian shook him. He merely rolled over and settled down again. Julian glanced across the barn, and saw that the twins’ camp-beds were empty. They had stacked their pillows and bedclothes in neat piles, and disappeared silently out of the door. Without waking us! thought Julian, pulling on his socks. I wonder if I can wash at the big kitchen sink. ‘Dick – will you wake up?’ he said loudly. ‘It might be TEN O’CLOCK for all you care!’

Dick heard the two shouted words and sat up at once, looking aghast. ‘Ten o’clock? Oh no! Gosh, I must have slept all round the clock. Oh, I say – I didn’t mean to be late for breakfast. I . . .’

‘Calm down,’ grinned Julian, brushing his hair. ‘I only said, “It might be ten o’clock for all you care!” Actually, it’s just gone half past seven.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Dick, lying back in bed. ‘Oh for ten minutes more!’

‘The twins have gone already,’ said Julian. ‘I wonder if the girls are up. Oh, my goodness, what’s that?’

Something had jabbed him sharply in the back, making him jump violently. Julian swung round, expecting it to be Junior or one of the twins playing a silly joke.

‘Oh – it’s you – Nosey the jackdaw!’ he said, looking at the cheeky bird, now perched on his pillow. ‘You’ve got a jolly sharp beak!’

‘Chack!’ said the jackdaw, and flew to his shoulder. Julian felt flattered – until the jackdaw pecked his ear! ‘Here – you take the bird,’ he said to the unwary Dick, and handed Nosey to him. Nosey promptly pounced on the watch lying beside Dick’s pillow and flew off with it. Dick gave an angry yell.

‘Bring that back, you crazy bird! Don’t you know a watch when you see one? He’s taken my watch, Ju – goodness knows where he’ll hide it!’

‘He’s gone into the roof,’ said Julian. ‘We’d better tell the twins. Perhaps they can deal with him. Now WHY doesn’t he take Junior’s watch – that would be a trick I should really applaud!’

‘CHACK, CHACK CHACK,’ said Nosey, exactly as if he agreed. He had to open his beak to say ‘chack’ and the watch promptly fell out. It bounced on to a sack far below, and the bird swooped down to get it. Dick also swooped, and as the watch had now slipped between two sacks, he managed to get it before the jackdaw.

Nosey flew up into the roof, and ‘chacked’ angrily. ‘Don’t use such bad language,’ said Dick severely, strapping on his watch. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself !’

They went out of the barn and round to the farmhouse. There were sounds of people about, and the two boys felt quite ashamed of being so late! Breakfast was on the table, but already quite a number of people seemed to have had it!

‘The girls haven’t had theirs,’ said Dick, looking at the places set in front of the chairs where George and Anne had sat the night before. ‘But the twins have. It looks as if everyone has, except us four, apparently! Ah – here’s Mrs Philpot. Sorry we’re late. We overslept, I’m afraid.’

‘That’s all right!’ said Mrs Philpot, smiling. ‘I don’t expect my visitors to be up early. Anyone can sleep late on a holiday!’

She held a tray in her hands, and set it down on the table. ‘That’s for Mr Henning – he’ll ring when he wants his breakfast. That’s Junior’s tray over there. I make the coffee when they ring,’ she said, and went out again.

There was cold ham for breakfast, boiled eggs and fruit. The two boys tucked in, and looked round reprovingly when the two girls came, with Timmy behind them, still sleepy-eyed. ‘Overslept, I suppose?’ said Dick, pretending to be shocked. ‘Sit down, I’ll pour you some coffee.’

‘Where’s Junior – not down yet, I hope?’ said George anxiously. ‘I haven’t forgotten my bet about taking up his breakfast!’

‘I say – do you think it’s all right to let George take up Junior’s breakfast?’ said Julian, after a pause. ‘George, don’t throw the tray at him or anything, will you?’

‘I might,’ said George, eating a boiled egg. ‘Anything to get your new pocket-knife from you!’

‘Well, don’t go too far teasing Junior,’ said Julian warningly. ‘You don’t want to make the Henning family walk out and leave Mrs Philpot high and dry!’

‘All right, all right,’ said George. ‘Don’t nag. I think I’ll have another egg, Dick. Pass one over, please. I don’t know why I’m so hungry.’

‘Leave a bit of room for this ham,’ said Dick, who had cut himself two good slices. ‘It’s out of this world! Simply too good to be true! I could eat it all day.’

The two girls tucked into their breakfast, and just as they were finishing, a bell rang very loudly in the kitchen, jangling just above their heads. They jumped violently. Mrs Philpot came into the room at once. ‘That’s Mr Henning’s bell,’ she said. ‘I must make his coffee.’

‘I’ll take up his tray,’ said Anne. ‘George is going to take up Junior’s.’

‘Oh no – I really don’t like you to do that,’ said Mrs Philpot, distressed. Just then another bell rang. It jangled to and fro for a very long time.

‘That’s Junior’s bell,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘He always seems to think I’m quite hard of hearing!’

‘Bad-mannered little beast!’ said Dick, and was pleased to find that Mrs Philpot didn’t disagree!

Anne waited till Mr Henning’s tray was ready, and then firmly put her hands to the sides. ‘ I’m going to take it to Mr Henning,’ she said in a most determined voice, and Mrs Philpot smiled gratefully and let her lift it. ‘Bedroom on the left of the stairs, first floor!’ she said. ‘And he likes his curtains pulled, too, when his breakfast is brought.’

‘And does Junior like his pulled as well?’ inquired George, in such a sugary voice that the two boys looked round at her suspiciously. What was she up to now?

‘Well – I do pull them for him,’ said Mrs Philpot, ‘but don’t you pull them if you don’t feel like it! Thank you very much, dear!’

Anne had already gone upstairs with Mr Henning’s tray, and now George set off with Junior’s. She winked at Dick. ‘Get that pocket-knife ready for me!’ she said, and disappeared through the door, grinning wickedly. She went carefully upstairs with Timmy close at her heels, wondering whatever George was doing with a tray!

George came to Junior’s door. It was shut. She gave it a violent kick and it flew open. She entered, clattering with her feet, and set the tray down on a table with a jolt that upset the coffee. She went whistling to the windows, and pulled the curtains back across the poles so that they made a loud clattering noise.

Junior had apparently fallen asleep again, his head under the clothes. George upset a chair with a crash. That made Junior sit up, half scared. ‘What’s going on here?’ he began. ‘Can’t you bring my breakfast without . . .’ Then he saw that it was George in the room, not the kindly Mrs Philpot.

‘Get out!’ he said angrily. ‘Crashing about like that! Pull the curtains across again. The sun’s too strong. And look how you’ve spilt the coffee! Why didn’t Mrs Philpot bring my breakfast? She usually does. Here – put the tray on my knees, like she does!’

George whipped the bed clothes off him, took up the tray and set it down violently on his pyjamaed knees. The hot coffee got a violent jerk and some drops fell on to his bare arm. They were hot, and he yelled loudly. He lashed out at George, and hit her on the shoulder.

That was a very great mistake. Timmy, who was at the door watching, leapt on to the bed at once, growling. He pulled the terrified boy on to the floor, and kept him lying there, standing over him, deep growls coming from the depths of his great body.

George took absolutely no notice. She went round the room, humming a little tune, putting this and that straight, tidying the dressing-table, not seeming to notice what Timmy was doing. She shut the door so that no one would hear Junior’s howls.

‘George – take this dog off me!’ begged Junior. ‘He’ll kill me! GEORGE! I’ll tell my Pop on you. I’m sorry I hit you. Oh, do take this dog off me, PLEASE do!’

He began to weep, and George looked scornfully down at him. ‘You nasty spoilt little pest,’ she said. ‘I’ve a good mind to leave you here all morning, with Timmy on guard! But this time I’ll be generous to you. Come here, Tim. Leave that funny little worm there on the floor!’

Junior was still weeping. He crept into bed and wrapped the blankets round him. ‘I don’t want any breakfast,’ he wept. ‘I’ll tell Pop about you. He’ll get you all right.’

‘Yes, you tell him,’ said George, tucking him in so tightly that he couldn’t move. ‘You tell him – and I’ll whisper into Timmy’s ear that you’ve told tales on me – and honestly, I simply don’t know what he’ll do!’

‘You are the most horrible boy I’ve ever met,’ said Junior, knowing when he was beaten. George grinned. So he thought she was a boy, did he? Good!

‘Mrs Philpot isn’t going to bring up your breakfast any more,’ she said. ‘ I’m going to – with Timmy. See? And if you dare to ring that bell more than once each morning, you’ll be sorry!’

‘I don’t want my breakfast brought up,’ said Junior, in a small voice. ‘I’d rather get up and go downstairs for it. I don’t want you to bring it.’

‘Right. I’ll tell Mrs Philpot,’ said George. ‘But if you change your mind, just tell me. I’ll bring it up any morning – with Timmy!’

She went out and banged the door, Timmy trotting down the stairs in front of her, puzzled but pleased. He didn’t like Junior any more than George did.

George went into the kitchen. Dick and Julian were still there. ‘You’ve lost your bet, Dick,’ said George. ‘Pocket-knife, please. I not only took up his breakfast, and accidentally spilt hot coffee on him, but Timmy here pulled him out of bed and stood over him, growling. What a sight that was! Poor Junior doesn’t want his breakfast in bed any more! He’s coming down for it each morning.’

‘Good for you, George!’ said Dick, and slid his pocket-knife across the table. ‘You deserve to win. Now – sit down and finish your breakfast and mind – I’m not betting anything else for a long, long time!’

CHAPTER SEVEN

The twins change their minds

THE TWINS, Harry and Harriet, had had their breakfast some while ago. They now came into the big kitchen, Snippet at their heels, and scowled to see the Five still having breakfast there. Anne was in fits of laughter over George’s account of the way she dealt with Junior.

‘You should have seen his face when I plonked the breakfast tray on his knees, and the hot coffee splashed him!’ said George. ‘He let out a yell that startled even old Timmy. And when he hit me, and Timmy leapt on the bed and dragged him out on to the floor, his eyes nearly fell out of his head!’

‘No wonder he’s decided to come down to breakfast each morning, then,’ said Julian. ‘He’ll be scared stiff of you appearing with a breakfast tray again!’

The twins listened to this in amazement. They looked at one another, and nodded. Then they walked up to the breakfast table, and for once, only one twin spoke. Whether it was Harry or Harriet, nobody knew, for they both looked so much alike.

‘What’s happened?’ said the twin to George. ‘Why did you take up Junior’s breakfast tray?’

‘Because we were all so fed up with the way Junior – and his Pop – impose on your mother,’ said George. ‘Fancy a boy having breakfast in bed!’

‘So old George took it into her head to take up his breakfast herself, and said she’d teach him such a lesson he’d be a bit more considerate of your mother in future,’ said Dick. ‘What’s more, I was idiotic enough to bet George she wouldn’t do it – and now she’s won my best pocket-knife off me – look!’

George proudly displayed the knife. The twins each gave a sudden loud laugh, which surprised the others very much. ‘Well!’ said Dick. ‘Fancy you being able to laugh! You always look so fierce and unfriendly. Well, now that you’ve condescended to talk to us, let me tell you this – we think your mother is absolutely tops, and far from giving her more trouble, we’re all going to help as much as we can. Got that?’

Both twins were smiling broadly now. They took it in turns to speak, which was really much more friendly than their usual stiff way of talking in unison.

‘We hate Junior!’ said one twin. ‘He thinks our mother is a kind of servant, to come when he rings for her, or shouts for her.’

‘His father’s the same,’ said the other twin. ‘Wanting this and that, and sending our mother all over the place to fetch and carry for him. Why doesn’t he go and stay at a hotel?’

‘He doesn’t because he’s so set on snooping out our old things and buying them,’ said the other twin. ‘I know for a fact that Mother has sold him some of her own things – but she just had to have some money; things are so expensive, and we grow out of our clothes so quickly.’

‘It is nice to hear you talking properly,’ said Julian, clapping the twin on the back. ‘And now would you mind letting us know how to tell which of you is which? I know one’s a boy and one’s a girl, but you both look exactly alike to me – you might be two boys!’

The twins gave sudden, mischievous grins. ‘Well – don’t you tell Junior, then,’ said one. ‘You can always tell me by this scar on my hand, see? Harriet hasn’t any scar. I’m Harry.’

The four looked at the long thin scar on the boy’s hand. ‘I got that by tearing the back of my hand on barbed wire,’ said Harry. ‘Now you’ll know us from each other! But tell us all about George and the breakfast tray, from beginning to end. Good old George. She looks just as much a boy as Harriet does.’

It was very pleasant to find the twins so friendly, after their stiff, sullen dislike. The four warmed to them – and when Mrs Philpot suddenly appeared in the kitchen to clear away breakfast, she was astounded to see her twins talking and laughing happily with the others. She stood and stared, a delighted smile on her face.

‘Mother! Junior’s not going to have breakfast in bed any more!’ said Harry. ‘Listen why!’ And the story had to be told all over again. George went red. She was afraid that Mrs Philpot would be displeased. But no, she threw back her head and laughed.

‘Oh, that really does me good,’ she said. ‘But I hope Junior doesn’t tell his father, and they don’t both go off in a hurry! We do need their money, you know, much as I hate having them here. Now I must clear away breakfast!’

‘No, you mustn’t. That’s our job,’ said Anne. ‘Isn’t it, twins?’

‘YES!’ said both twins together. ‘We’re all friends now, Mother – let them belong to the family.’

‘Well, I’ll go and see to the chickens, then, if you’re going to clear away,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘You can wash up, too, bless you!’

‘Look – how would you like to go round the farm in our old Land Rover today?’ said Harry to the others. ‘It’s the best way to see over the farm. I think Bill’s got to go round this morning, and check on the fields and the stock. He’ll take you, if I ask him.’

‘Fine!’ said Julian. ‘What time?’

‘In about half an hour,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll find Bill – and when you hear a horn hooting, come on out. By the way, Bill isn’t much of a talker, but if he takes to you, he’ll be quite pally.’

‘Right,’ said Julian. ‘Can Dick and I do something while the others are clearing away?’

‘Gosh yes, there’s always something to do on a farm,’ said Harry. ‘Come on up to the chicken-houses – Harriet and I are patching them up to stop the rain leaking in.’

Julian and Dick, with Timmy behind them, immediately went off with the twins, now as merry and friendly as before they had been dour and sullen! What a change!

‘Well, thank goodness I took Junior’s breakfast up to him, and put him in his place,’ said George, folding up the tablecloth. ‘It was apparently just the one thing that would make the twins friendly! Listen, Anne, I believe that’s Junior coming.’

She slipped behind the dresser, while Anne set the chairs straight round the table. Junior came creeping in very quietly indeed, and looked round fearfully. He seemed very relieved to find only Anne there. He considered that she was quite harmless!

‘Where’s that dog?’ he asked.

‘What dog?’ said Anne innocently. ‘Snippet?’

‘No – that great ugly mongrel – and that awful boy he belongs to,’ said Junior, still fearful.

‘Oh, you mean George, I suppose,’ said Anne, amused that Junior thought George was a boy. ‘Well, look over there!’

Junior saw George advancing on him from behind the dresser, gave one agonised yell and fled, fearing that she had Timmy behind her. George laughed.

‘We shan’t have much trouble with him in future,’ she said. ‘I just hope he doesn’t say too much to his Pop!’

After a while they heard the sound of a hooter outside. ‘That’s the Land Rover,’ said George, excited. ‘Well, we’ve just finished the washing-up. Hang up the teacloths to dry, Anne. I’ll pop these dishes into the cupboard . . .’

Soon they were out of the great kitchen door and down the passage that led to the yard. Not far off was a van-like car, the Land Rover. It was an old one, very dirty, and a bit lopsided. Dick and Julian yelled to the girls.

‘Buck up! Didn’t you hear us hooting?’

The girls ran to the Land Rover. Bill, the farm hand, was at the wheel. He grinned at them and nodded. Timmy greeted George as if he hadn’t seen her for a year and almost knocked her down in his playfulness.

‘Tim! Don’t be so silly!’ said George. ‘Planting your great muddy paws all over me! Where are the twins? Aren’t they coming?’

‘Naw,’ said Bill. ‘They be busy.’

They all got in, and were just about to set off when someone else appeared. ‘Wait! I’m coming! Wait, I say!’

And up ran Junior, full of himself as usual. ‘Jump down, Tim – go to him,’ said George, in a low voice. And very willingly indeed Timmy leapt down and ran straight towards the unsuspecting Junior. He gave one loud yell, turned, and fled for his life.

‘Well, that’s got rid of him!’ said Dick, with much satisfaction. ‘Look at Timmy – he’s laughing all over his hairy old face! You love a joke, don’t you, Tim?’

It did indeed look as if Tim was laughing, for he had his mouth wide open, showing all his teeth, and his tongue was hanging out happily. He leapt back into the car.

‘Sensible dog, that,’ said Bill, and then relapsed into his usual silence as he started up the Land Rover with a really shattering noise. It moved off towards the fields.

How it jolted! The four clung to the sides of the van, almost bumped off their seats as the Land Rover jerked its way over field paths, up hill and down hill, jolting in and out of deep ruts, appearing to be on the point of overturning at any minute. Anne wasn’t sure that she liked it much, but the others enjoyed every minute.

‘Now you’ll see the farmland,’ said Bill, as they came to the top of the hill. ‘Look yonder! Could be the finest farm in the country, if Mr Philpot had the money!’

CHAPTER EIGHT

All round the farm

THE FIVE thoroughly enjoyed their ride over the big farm. It spread out in all directions over undulating hills, and the van swung up and down and continually lurched round corners. It stopped every now and again so that the children might see the magnificent views.

Bill told them the names of the great fields as they passed them. ‘That’s Oak Tree Field – that’s Hangman’s Copse over there – that’s Tinkers’ Wood Field – and that’s Faraway Field – the farthest from the farmhouse.’

Name after name came from his lips, and it seemed as if the sight of the fields he knew and loved suddenly set his tongue going. He told them about the stock too. ‘They’re the new cows over there – give good milk they do – helps a farmer no end to get money every week for milk, you know. And they’re the bulls, down in that field. Fine creatures, too – cost a mint of money. But Mr Philpot, he believes in good animals. He’d rather go without a new car than buy poor stock. They’re the sheep right away over there – see, dotted about on those slopes. Can’t take you to see ’em today, though. You’d like Shepherd. He’s been here so long, and is so old, he knows every inch of the farm!’

He relapsed into silence after his unusual spate of talk, and turned down a path that took the children back towards the farmhouse, using a different route, to show them even more fields.

There were glorious fields of corn, golden in the sun, waving in the breeze with a wonderful rustling noise. ‘I could sit here for hours and look at that, and listen,’ said Anne.

‘Then don’t you marry a farmer, if you want to do that, for a farmer’s wife has no time to sit!’ said Bill dryly, and was silent again.

They jolted along, shaken to the bones, but loving every minute. ‘Cows, calves, sheep, lambs, bulls, dogs, ducks, chickens,’ chanted Anne. ‘Corn, kale, beet, cauliflower – ooh, Bill, look out!’

The van had gone at such speed into a deep rut that Anne was nearly flung out. Timmy shot through the back entrance of the van, and landed on the ground, rolling over and over. He got slowly to his feet, looking most amazed.

‘Timmy! It’s all right! It was only a bigger hole than usual!’ shouted George. ‘Buck up – jump in!’

As the Land Rover didn’t stop, Timmy had to gallop after it, and enter with a flying leap from the back. Bill gave a snort of laughter, which made the wheel wobble dangerously. ‘This old car’s almost human,’ he said. ‘Just jigs about for joy on a day like this!’

And he drove headlong over a slanting path and straight down into a hollow, making poor Anne groan again. ‘All very well for Bill!’ she said, in Julian’s ear. ‘ He’s got the wheel to hang on to!’

In spite of the jolting and bumping the Five enjoyed their ride round the farm immensely. ‘Now we really know what it’s like!’ said Julian, as the Land Rover came to a very sudden stop near the farmhouse, throwing them all on top of one another. ‘My word – no wonder old Great-Grandad and Mr and Mrs Philpot love the place. It’s grand! Thanks awfully, Bill. We’ve enjoyed it tremendously! Wish my family had a farm like this!’

‘Farm like this? Ay. It’s taken centuries to grow,’ said Bill. ‘All the names I told you – they’re centuries old too. Nobody knows now who was hanged down in Hangman’s Copse – or who came to Tinkers’ Wood. But they’re not forgot as long as the fields are there!’

Anne stared at Bill in wonder. Why, that was almost poetry, she thought. He turned and saw her gazing at him. He nodded at her.

‘You understand all right, don’t you?’ he said. ‘There’re some that don’t, though. That Mr Henning, he raves about it all – but he don’t understand a thing. As for that boy of his!’ And to Anne’s surprise he turned and spat into the ditch. ‘That’s what I think of him!’

‘Oh – it’s just the way he’s been brought up, I expect,’ said Anne. ‘I’ve met heaps of fine American children, and . . .’

‘Well, that one needs punishing!’ said Bill, grimly. ‘And if it wasn’t that Mrs Philpot begged me not to, he’d be well punished, that boy! I tell you! Trying to ride on the nervy calves and chasing the hens till they’re scared off egg-laying – and stoning the ducks, poor critters – and slitting sacks of seed just for the fun of seeing it dribble out and waste! Hoo, wouldn’t I like to shake him till his bones rattled!’

The four listened in silence, horrified. Junior was much worse than they had thought, then. George felt very very pleased that she had taught him a lesson that morning.

‘Don’t you worry any more about Junior,’ said Julian grimly. ‘ We’ll keep him in order while we’re here!’

They said goodbye and walked back to the farm-house, stiff and sore from the bumpy, bone-shaking ride, but with their minds full of the lovely sloping hills, the blue distance, the waving corn, and the feel of a farmland in good heart.

‘That was good,’ said Julian, voicing the feelings of the others. ‘Very good. I somehow feel more English for having seen those Dorset fields, surrounded by hedges, basking in the sun.’

‘I like Bill,’ said Anne. ‘He’s so – so solid and real. He belongs to the land, just as the land belongs to him. They’re one!’

‘Ah – Anne has discovered what farming really means!’ said Dick. ‘I say, I’m starving, but I really don’t like to go and ask for anything at the farmhouse. Let’s go down to the village and get buns and milk at the dairy.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Anne and George, and Timmy gave a few sharp, short barks as if he thoroughly agreed. They set off down the lane that led to the village, and soon came to the little ice-cream shop, half baker’s half dairy. Janie, the small talkative girl, was there again. She smiled at them in delight.

‘You’re here again!’ she said, in pleasure. ‘Mum’s made some macaroons this morning. See – all gooey and fresh!’

‘Now how did you guess that we are all very partial to macaroons?’ said Dick, sitting down at one of the two little tables there. ‘We’ll have a plateful, please.’

‘What, a whole plateful?’ exclaimed Janie. ‘But there’s about twenty on a plate!’

‘Just about right,’ said Dick. ‘And an ice-cream each, please. Large. And don’t forget our dog, will you?’

‘Oh no, I won’t,’ said Janie. ‘He’s a very nice dog, isn’t he? Have you noticed what lovely smiley eyes he has?’

‘Well, yes, we have. We know him quite well, you see,’ said Dick, amused. George looked pleased. She did so like Timmy to be praised. Timmy liked it too. He actually went up to Janie and licked her hand!

Soon they had a plateful of delicious macaroons in front of them – and they were indeed nice, and very ‘gooey’ inside, as Janie had so rightly said. George gave Timmy one, but it was really wasted on him, because he gave one crunch, and then swallowed it! He also chased his ice-cream all over the floor again, much to Janie’s delight.

‘How do you like it at Mrs Philpot’s?’ she asked. ‘Kind, isn’t she?’

‘Very!’ said everyone together.

‘We love being at the farm,’ said Anne. ‘We’ve been all over it this morning, in the Land Rover.’

‘Did Bill take you?’ asked Janie. ‘He’s my uncle. But he don’t usually say much to strangers.’

‘Well, he said plenty to us,’ said Julian. ‘He was most interesting. Does he like macaroons?’

‘Oooh yes,’ said Janie, rather astonished. ‘Everyone likes Mum’s macaroons.’

‘Could he eat six, do you think?’ asked Julian.

‘Ooooh yes,’ said Janie, still astonished, her blue eyes opened wide.

‘Right. Put six in a bag for me,’ said Julian. ‘I’ll give them to him in return for a great ride.’

‘That’s right down nice of you,’ said Janie, pleased. ‘My uncle’s been on Finniston Farm all his life. You ought to get him to tell you about Finniston Castle before it was burnt down, and . . .’

‘Finniston Castle!’ exclaimed George, in surprise. ‘We went all over the farm this morning, and saw every field – but we didn’t see any ruined castle.’

‘Oh no, you wouldn’t see anything!’ said Janie. ‘I told you – it was burnt down. Right to the ground, ages ago. Finniston Farm belonged to it, you know. There’re some pictures of it in a shop down the road. I saw them, and . . .’

‘Now, Janie, Janie, how many times have I told you not to chatter to customers?’ said Janie’s mother, bustling in, frowning. ‘That tongue of yours! Can’t you learn that people don’t want to hear your chatter, chatter, chatter?’

‘We like talking to Janie,’ said Julian, politely. ‘She’s most interesting. Please don’t send her away.’

But Janie had fled, red-cheeked and scared. Her mother began to arrange the goods on the counter. ‘Let’s see now – what did you have?’ she said. ‘Good gracious, where have all those macaroons gone? There were at least two dozen there!’

‘Er – well – we had almost twenty – and the dog helped, of course – and Janie put six in a bag for us – let’s see now . . .’

‘There were twenty-four on that plate,’ said Janie’s mother, still amazed. ‘Twenty-four! I counted them!’

‘And five ice-creams,’ said Julian. ‘How much is that altogether? Most delicious macaroons they were!’

Janie’s mother couldn’t help smiling. She totted up the bill, and Julian paid. ‘Come again,’ she said, ‘and don’t you let that little gas-bag of mine bore you!’

They set off down the street, feeling very pleased with life. Timmy kept licking his lips as if he could still taste macaroon and ice-cream! They walked to the end of the street, and came to the little lane that led up to the farm. Anne stopped.

‘I’d like to go and look at the horse-brasses in this little antique shop,’ she said. ‘You go on. I’ll come later.’

‘I’ll come in with you,’ said George, and she turned to the little shop window. The boys walked on by themselves. ‘We’ll probably be helping on the farm somewhere!’ shouted back Dick. ‘So long!’

Just as Anne and George were going into the shop, two people came out and almost bumped into them. One was Mr Henning, the American, the other was a man they hadn’t seen before. ‘Good morning,’ Mr Henning said to them, and went into the street with his friend. Anne and George walked into the dark little shop.

There was an old man there, drumming on the counter, looking quite angry. He gave the two girls such a glare that they felt quite frightened!

‘That man!’ said the old man, and frowned so fiercely that his glasses fell off. Anne helped him to find them among the clutter of quaint old trinkets on his counter. He fixed them on his nose again and looked sternly at the two girls and Timmy.

‘If you’ve come to waste my time, please go,’ he said. ‘I’m a busy man, children are no good to me. Just want to nose round and touch this and that and never buy anything! That American boy now – he’s . . . ah, but you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? I’m upset. I’m always upset when people want to buy our beautiful old things and take them away to a country they don’t belong to. Now . . .’

‘It’s all right, Mr Finniston,’ said Anne, in her gentle voice. ‘You are Mr Finniston, aren’t you? I just wanted to look at those lovely old horse-brasses please. I won’t bother you for long. We’re staying at Finniston Farm, and . . .’

‘Ah – at Finniston Farm, did you say?’ said the old man, his face brightening. ‘Then you’ve met my great friend, dear old Jonathan Philpot. My very great friend!’

‘Is that Mr Philpot, the twins’ father?’ said George.

‘No, no, no – it’s old Great-Grandad! We were at school together,’ said the old man, excited. ‘Ah – I could tell you some tales of the Finnistons and the castle they once owned. Yes, yes – I’m a descendant of the owners of that castle, you know – the one that was burnt down. Oh, the tales I could tell you!’

And it was just at that moment that the adventure began – the Finniston Farm adventure that the Five were never to forget!

CHAPTER NINE

A very interesting tale

ANNE AND GEORGE looked at the old man, fascinated, as he talked to them. He stood there behind the counter of his little, dark antique shop, surrounded by things even older than himself, a little, bent old man with only a few hairs on his head. He had a kindly, wrinkled face with eyes so hooded with drooping lids that they seemed to look out through slits.

The two girls were thrilled to hear that old Mr Finniston was actually descended from the long-ago Finnistons, who lived in Finniston Castle.

‘Is that why your name’s Finniston?’ asked Anne. ‘Tell us about the castle. We only heard about it for the first time today. But we don’t even know exactly whereabouts it stood. I didn’t see a single stone when we went round the farm this morning!’

‘No, no, you wouldn’t,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘It was burnt right down to the ground, you see – and through the centuries people have taken the old stones for building walls. Ah well – it was a long time ago!’

‘How long?’ asked George.

‘Let’s see now – it was burnt down in 1192 – the twelfth century,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘Norman times, you know. Ever heard of the Normans? Schooling isn’t what it was, I know, so maybe . . .’

‘Of course we’ve heard of the Normans!’ said George, indignantly. ‘Every child knows them! They conquered England, and the first Norman king was William the First, 1066!’

‘Hmmm – that’s right. You’ve had some schooling then,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘Well, it was a Norman castle – look, like that one in this picture, see?’ And he showed them a copy of an old print. They gazed at the stone castle pictured there.

‘Yes. It’s a Norman castle,’ said George. ‘Was Finniston Castle just like that?’

‘I’ve got a copy of an old drawing of it somewhere,’ said the old fellow. ‘I’ll find it and show it to you sometime. A small castle, of course – but a very fine specimen. Well, well, you won’t be interested in such details, I know. How it was burnt down, I don’t know. Can’t find out for certain. The story goes that it was attacked at night by the enemy, and there were traitors in the castle itself who set fire to it – and while the castle folk were fighting the fire, the enemy walked in and slew nearly all of them.’

‘So the castle was no use for living in after that, I suppose,’ said Anne. ‘But it’s strange there isn’t even a stone to be seen anywhere.’

‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong!’ said Mr Finniston, triumphantly. ‘There are stones from the castle – all over the farm. But only I and old Great-Grandad know where they are now! There’s an old wall with some of the castle stones at the bottom – and there’s a well – but no, I mustn’t tell you those secrets. You might tell them to the Americans who come here and buy up all our old treasures!’

‘We won’t! We promise!’ said both girls at once, and Timmy thumped his tail on the floor, as if he too agreed.

‘Well, maybe Great-Grandad will show you one or two of the old castle stones,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘But I doubt it – I doubt it! I’ll tell you one thing you can see at the farmhouse, though – everybody knows about it, so it’s no secret. Have you seen the old kitchen door that leads out into the yard?’

‘Yes. That oak door, studded with iron knobs, do you mean?’ said Anne at once. ‘They’re quite fashionable now as front doors in ordinary houses, you know. Surely that farmhouse door isn’t a real old one?’

Mr Finniston put his head into his hands and groaned as if he were in pain.

‘Fashionable! FASHIONABLE! What will they do next? Surely you can’t mix up that fine old door with the trashy copies you’ve seen in modern houses? What’s the world coming to? Couldn’t you feel that that door was real – was as old as the centuries – and once hung on great hinges in a castle? Don’t you know when things are grand with the weight of years?’

‘Well,’ said Anne, rather out of her depth, ‘I did notice the door – but you see, it’s very dark just there, and we really can’t see it very clearly.’

‘Ah – well – most people go about with their eyes shut half the time!’ said Mr Finniston. ‘You have a look at that door – feel it – look at the great knocker on it. Think of the old Norman folk who hammered on the door with it, all those ages ago!’

George sighed. This kind of thing didn’t interest her as much as it interested Anne. A thought suddenly struck her.

‘But, Mr Finniston – if the castle was built of stone – how was it burnt to the ground?’ she said. ‘What happened?’

‘I can’t find out,’ said Mr Finniston sadly. ‘I’ve been into every old library in the county, and looked up every old book of that period – and I’ve delved into the old records in Finniston church. As far as I can make out, the castle was stormed by enemies – and, as I said, traitors inside set fire to it at the same time. The floors fell in, and the castle was left blazing from top to bottom. The great walls fell inwards and covered the base – and the Finniston family fled. Lord Finniston was killed – but his Lady took the children and hid them – it’s said she hid them in the old chapel, near the barns of the farm. Maybe she took them down a secret underground passage, leading from the dungeons to the old chapel itself.’

‘An old chapel – is it still there?’ asked Anne. ‘Or was it burnt too?’

‘No – it wasn’t burnt. It’s still standing,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘Old Great-Grandad will show you.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘It’s a storehouse for grain now. Sad, sad. But, mind you – it’s still full of prayer!’

The girls stared at him, wondering what he meant. They began to think he must be a little mad. He stood with his head bent, saying nothing for a while. Then he looked up.

‘Well, that’s the story, my dears – and it’s not only a story, it’s history! It happened eight hundred years ago. And I’ll tell you something else . . .’

‘What?’ asked the two girls.

‘That castle had cellars – and dungeons!’ said the old man. ‘The fire only burnt down to the ground floor, which was made of earth flattened down, not wood, so it wouldn’t burn. The cellars and dungeons can’t have been destroyed. Are they still there, undamaged? That’s what’s been in my mind all these long years. What was down in those cellars – and is it still there?’

He spoke in such a hollow voice that that the girls felt quite scared. George recovered herself first. ‘But why were the dungeons never uncovered?’ she asked. ‘I mean, surely someone must have thought of them and wondered about them?’

‘Well, when the castle fell and the walls collapsed, any underground entrances must have been completely covered with enormously heavy stones,’ said Mr Finniston, peering at them earnestly. ‘The peasants and farm hands living around couldn’t possibly move them, and maybe they were too scared to, anyhow. They probably lay there for years, till the wind and weather broke them up. Then they were taken to build walls and line wells. But by that time everyone had forgotten about dungeons. Might have been centuries later, you see.’

He stood and brooded for a while, and the girls waited politely for him to go on. ‘Yes – everyone forgot . . . and everyone still forgets,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I wake up in the night and wonder what’s underground there. Bones of prisoners? Chests of money? Things stored away by the Lady of the castle? I wake up and wonder!’

Anne felt uncomfortable. Poor old man! He lived absolutely in the past! His mind had woven for him a living fantasy, a story that had no certain foundation, no real truth. She was sorry for him. She wished she could go and see the place where the old castle had once stood! It would be overgrown with grass and weeds, nettles would wave there, and poppies dance in the summer. There would probably be nothing at all to show where once a proud castle had stood, its towers high against the sky, flags flying along the battlements. She could almost hear the cries of the enemy, galloping up on horseback, and the fearful clash of swords! She shook herself and stood up straight.

‘I’m as bad as this old man!’ she thought. ‘Imagining things! But what a tale! The others will love to hear it. I wonder if the American knows it.’

‘Does that American, Mr Henning, know the old story?’ she asked, and the old man straightened up at once.

‘Not the whole of it – only what he has heard in the village!’ he said. ‘He comes here and pesters me. He’d like to bring in men and dig up the whole thing! I know him! He’d buy up all the farm, just for the sake of getting that castle site – if he really knew there was something worth having, deep under the ground where it once stood. You won’t tell him what I’ve told you, will you? I’ve talked too much. I always do when someone’s upset me. Ah, to think my ancestors once lived in Finniston Castle – and here I am now, a poor old man in a little antique shop that nobody comes to!’

‘Well, we’ve come to it,’ said Anne. ‘I did want to buy some horse-brasses, but I’ll come another time. You’re upset now. You go and have a rest!’

They went out of the little shop, almost on tiptoe! ‘My word!’ said George, thrilled. ‘I just can’t wait to tell the boys! What a story – and it really sounded true, Anne, didn’t it? I vote we find out where that old castle really stood, and then go and have a look round. Who knows what we might find! Come along – let’s get back to the farm as quickly as we can!’

CHAPTER TEN

Quite a bit of shouting

ANNE AND GEORGE, with Timmy running in front, went back to the farm to find the boys, but they couldn’t see them anywhere and gave up. Then they went indoors and found Mrs Philpot shelling peas. They took over the job at once.

‘The boys are still helping to mend the hen-house,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘The Harries are pleased to have two more pairs of hands to help them! Something always seems to need repairing! If only we could get a few things we need so badly – a new tractor, for instance. But they cost so much! The barns want mending too and the hen-houses are almost falling down!’

‘I hope the harvest will be good for you,’ said Anne. ‘That will help, won’t it?’

‘Oh yes – we’ll keep our fingers crossed for fine weather from now on!’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘Thank goodness the cows are such good milkers! What we should do without our milk money, I really don’t know! But there – why should I bother you with my troubles when you’re here for a nice holiday!’

‘You don’t bother us – and we think it’s awfully nice of you to let us help,’ said Anne. ‘We shouldn’t like it if you didn’t!’

The girls had no chance of telling the boys what old Mr Finniston had told them, until the afternoon came. They were up at the hen-houses with the two Harries and Snippet, happily hammering and sawing. Snippet was delighted to have so many people whistling cheerily round him, and busily took bits of wood from one boy to another, under the mistaken impression that he was a great help!

Nosey the jackdaw was there too, but he wasn’t nearly so popular as Snippet! He pounced on any bright nail or screw he saw, and flew off with it, heedless of the exasperated shouts that followed him.

‘Blow that jackdaw!’ said Julian, looking up crossly. ‘He’s just taken the very nail I wanted! Nosey by name and nosey by nature!’

The twins laughed. They seemed entirely different children now that they were friendly – amusing, helpful and most responsible. Julian and Dick admired them – no work was too hard, no hours were too long, if they could help their mother or father.

‘We hated you coming here because we knew it would give Mother so much more work,’ said Harry. ‘We thought if we were beastly to you, you’d go. But you don’t make more work! You help an awful lot. It’s fun to have you here.’

‘I hope the girls are back,’ said Dick. ‘I know your mother wants help with the peas – such a lot of people to shell for – let me see – counting in your great-grandad, there will be about a dozen people in to dinner. Whew! I certainly do hope the girls are in. Ah – here comes that nosey jackdaw again. Look out, Julian, he’s after those screws. Snippet, chase him!’

Away went the tiny poodle after the cheeky jackdaw, barking in his high little voice, thoroughly enjoying having so many children round him. Nosey flew up on to the top of the hen-house, and flapped his wings, chacking rude things in a very loud voice indeed.

Dinner was rather a crowded meal, for everyone was there. Great-Grandad frowned when he saw Mr Henning come in with Junior. Junior strutted to his place at table, giving George his best scowl. However, she was just as good at scowling as Junior, and Mr Henning, who happened to catch sight of her giant-size scowl, had quite a shock.

‘Now, now, my boy,’ he said to her. ‘Why pull such an ugly face?’

Nobody told him that George was a girl. Mrs Philpot was really very much amused. She liked George, and couldn’t help thinking she would have made a very good boy indeed!

‘Er – Mrs Philpot – would it be all right if I bring a friend to lunch here tomorrow?’ asked Mr Henning. ‘He’s called Durleston – Mr Durleston – and he’s a great authority on antiques. He’s going to give me some advice. You’ll remember that you told me you had a quaint old hole in the wall in one of the bedrooms – where in the old days people used to heat embers for warming-pans, and bricks to put in between the bedsheets. I thought I . . .’

‘You thought you could buy ’em, I suppose!’ old Great-Grandad suddenly shouted from his place at the head of the table. He thumped on the cloth with the handle of his knife. ‘Well, you ask my permission first, see? This place is still mine. I’m an old man, I’m nearly ninety, but I’ve still got all my wits about me. I don’t like this selling of things that have been in our family for donkey’s years! That I don’t! And . . .’

‘Now, now, Grandad, don’t excite yourself,’ said Mrs Philpot, in her gentle voice. ‘Surely it’s better to sell old things that we shall never use, in order to buy new tools, or wood to mend the barns?’

‘Why can’t we sell ’em to our own folks, then?’ shouted Great-Grandad, banging with his fork as well. ‘Taking them out of the country! Part of our history, they are! Selling our birthright, that’s what we’re doing – for a mess of potage! That’s out of the Bible, let me tell you, Mr Henning, in case you don’t know.’

‘SURE I KNOW,’ said Mr Henning, getting up and shouting back at Great-Grandad. ‘I’m not as ignorant as you seem to think. You ought to be glad that a poor, run-down, back-dated country like Britain has got anything to sell to a fine upstanding one like America! You . . .’

‘That’s enough, Mr Henning,’ said Mrs Philpot, with such dignity that Mr Henning blushed red and sat down in a great hurry. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he said. ‘But that old man, he gets under my skin; he sure does! What’s gotten into him? All I want is to buy things you want to sell. You want new tractors – I want old junk and I’m willing to pay for it. That’s all there is to it – buying and selling!’

‘OLD JUNK!’ shouted Great-Grandad again, banging with his glass now. ‘Do you call that great old cart-wheel you bought OLD JUNK? Why, that’s more than two hundred years old! My great-grandad made it – he told me so, when I was a mite of a boy. You won’t find another wheel like it in England. HOO – that wheel was made before the first American was born! I tell you . . .’

‘Now, now, Grandad, you know you’ll feel ill if you go on like this,’ said Mrs Philpot, and she got up and went to the old man, who was shaking with fury. ‘You belong to old times, and you don’t like the new times, and I don’t blame you. But things change, you know. Calm yourself, and come with me and have a lie-down.’

Surprisingly, the old fellow allowed Mrs Philpot to lead him out of the room. The seven children had all sat silent while the shouting had been going on. Mr Philpot, looking worried, broke his habitual silence and addressed a few words to the equally worried-looking Mr Henning.

‘Storm in a teacup,’ he said. ‘Soon blow over.’

‘Hmmmm,’ said Mr Henning. ‘Spoilt my dinner! Selfish, ignorant, rude old man.’

‘He’s not,’ said one of the twins, in a voice trembling with anger. ‘He’s . . .’

‘Enough, Harry!’ said his father, in such a stern voice that Harry subsided at once, but began to grind his teeth to show that he was still angry, making a most remarkable noise at the now silent table. Junior had sat as still as a mouse all the time, scared of the angry old man. Timmy had given a few small growls, and Snippet had shot straight out of the kitchen as soon as Great-Grandad had begun to shout!

Mrs Philpot came back, and sat down, looking sad and tired. Julian began to talk to her about Janie and the macaroons, and soon succeeded in making her smile. She even laughed out loud when George told her that they had six macaroons to give Bill for taking them out in the Land Rover.

‘I know those macaroons,’ announced Junior. ‘I buy about thirty of them a week. They’re just wunnerful!’

‘Thirty! No wonder you’re so pasty-faced, then,’ said George, before she could stop herself.

‘Aw shucks! Pasty-face yourself!’ retorted Junior, feeling safe with his father near him.

He heard a sudden ominous growl under the table, felt hot breath on his leg, and decided to say no more. He had forgotten all about the watchful Timmy!

Julian thought it was about time to have some bright conversation, and began to tell Mrs Philpot about the hen-houses and what a good job they were making of patching them to make them rain-proof. Mr Philpot listened too, nodded, and actually joined in.

‘Yes – you’re good with your hands, you boys. I had a look when I came by. Fine work!’

‘Harriet’s good, too,’ said Harry at once. ‘She did that corner where the rats get in. Didn’t you, Harry?’

‘I wanted to help, Pop, but they shooed me off, like I was a hen!’ said Junior in an aggrieved tone. ‘Seems as if they don’t want me around. That makes it pretty lonely, Pop. Can’t I come out with you this afternoon?’

‘No,’ said Pop, shortly.

‘Aw, c’mon, Pop,’ said Junior, in a whiny voice. ‘Aw shucks, Pop, lemme come!’

‘NO!’ said Pop, exasperated. Timmy gave a growl again. He didn’t like cross voices. He couldn’t imagine why there was so much quarrelling here, and sat up, tense and still, until George gave him a gentle push with her toe. Then he lay down again, his head across her feet.

Everyone was glad when the meal was over, delicious though the food had been. The girls and Harriet insisted that Mrs Philpot should go and have a rest while they did all the clearing away and washing-up. ‘Now, try not to be unkind to Junior this afternoon,’ she said, as she went. ‘He’ll be all alone when his father’s gone. Do let him be with you.’

Nobody answered. They hadn’t the least intention of allowing Junior to be with them. ‘Spoilt, bad-mannered little idiot!’ thought George, clearing away with such vigour that she almost knocked Anne over.

‘Julian,’ she said in a low voice, catching him at the door as he went out, ‘Anne and I have something interesting to tell you. Where will you be this afternoon?’

‘Up in the hen-houses, I expect,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll watch out for you and Anne. See you in about half an hour.’

Junior had sharp ears. He heard exactly what George had said, and he was full of curiosity at once. What was this interesting thing George wanted to tell the boys? Was it a secret? All right – he’d be on hand somewhere to hear it!

And so, when the girls had finished their work, and set off to the hen-houses, Junior followed discreetly behind! He kept well out of sight until he saw George and Anne disappear into a hen-house, where the others were working – and then he crept to a corner outside and put his ear to a knot-hole in the wood. ‘I’ll get my own back now!’ he thought. ‘ I’ll make them smart for leaving me out of things! Just see if I don’t!’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A most exciting tale

THE BOYS were busy hammering and sawing and the girls sat and waited till the noise died down. Snippet was there, leaping about ridiculously with little bits of wood in his mouth, and Nosey the jackdaw had suddenly taken a fancy to the shavings that now covered the floor, and ran about chacking and picking them up.

Outside the hens clucked and squawked, and not far off the ducks quacked loudly. ‘Those are the kind of noises I like to hear,’ said Anne, settling herself on a sack in a corner. She raised her voice and shouted above the hammering to Dick. ‘WANT ANY HELP, DICK?’

‘No thanks,’ said Dick. ‘We’ll just finish this job, then sit down and have a rest, and listen to what you have to say. You sit and watch our wonderful carpentering! Honestly, I’d make pounds a week if I took it up!’

‘Look out – Nosey has got your nails again!’ shouted George. Timmy leapt up as if he was going to chase Nosey, and the jackdaw promptly flew up to a crossbeam, and sat there chacking with laughter. Timmy thought him a very exasperating bird indeed. He lay down again with a thump.

At last the boys had finished the job they were on, and sat down, rubbing their hands over their wet foreheads. ‘Well, now you can tell us your news,’ said Dick. ‘Good thing we got rid of that little pest of a Junior – I might have hammered a few nails into him by mistake if he’d come worrying us this afternoon.’ He imitated Junior’s whining drawl. ‘Aw shucks, Pop, lemme come with you!’

Outside, his ear to the hole, Junior clenched his fists. He would willingly have stuck a few nails into Dick at that moment!

George and Anne began to tell the four listening children what old Mr Finniston had told them that morning. ‘It’s about Finniston Castle,’ said Anne. ‘The old castle that gave the village its name – and the farm as well. The old fellow who told us about it is called Finniston, too – and will you believe it, he’s a descendant of the Finnistons who lived in the castle centuries ago!’

‘He seems to have spent most of his life trying to discover everything possible about the old castle,’ said George. ‘He said he’d delved into old libraries – and into the church records here – anywhere that might help him to piece together the castle’s history!’

Outside the hen-house, Junior held his breath so as not to miss a single word. Why – his Pop had told him that he couldn’t get anything out of that old Mr Finniston at the antique shop – not a word about the castle, and its history, or even where the site was. Then why had he told Anne, and the horrible boy George? Junior felt angry, and listened even more keenly.

‘The story goes that the twelfth-century enemies came to attack the castle one night – and there were traitors already inside it who set it on fire, so that the castle folk would be busy trying to put out the fire, and wouldn’t be prepared for a fight,’ said George. ‘The inside of it was burnt down to the ground – and then the great stone walls outside collapsed inwards, and lay in enormous heaps there, covering the place where the castle had stood.’

‘Whew!’ said Dick, visualising it all. ‘What a night that must have been! Everybody killed or burnt, I suppose?’

‘No, the Lady of the castle wasn’t killed and it is said that she took her children to the little chapel near the farmhouse – we really must go and see that, twins – and they stayed there in safety. Anyway, some of the family must have escaped, because it is one of their descendants who keeps that little antique shop – old Mr Finniston!’

‘This is tremendously interesting,’ said Julian. ‘Where’s the site of the castle? It should easily be known, because of the great mass of stones that fell there when the walls collapsed.’

‘No, they’re not there now,’ said George. ‘Mr Finniston said he thought that when the wind and weather had broken them up small enough to be lugged away by the farmers and peasants living nearby, they were taken to build field-walls, or to line wells. He said there were some on this farm. He didn’t know himself where the castle once stood because the site would be all grown over, and with no stones left to mark it, it wouldn’t be easy to find.’

‘But oh, Julian, I wish we could find it!’ cried Anne, her voice rising in excitement. ‘Because, so Mr Finniston says, the cellars and dungeons are probably still there, quite untouched. You see, no one could uncover them for years, because of the heavy stones there – and when the stones were taken away, people had forgotten about the castle and the dungeons!’

‘Gosh! So they may still be there – with whatever was stored in them hundreds of years ago,’ said Dick, thrilled. ‘My word – there might be priceless things there, as old as the hills! I mean, even an old broken sword would be worth its weight in gold, because it would be so very, very old. I say – don’t say a word of all this in front of that American, or he’d dig up the whole farm!’

‘We shouldn’t dream of it,’ said George. ‘He shan’t get to hear a word of this.’

Alas! George little knew that every single word had been overheard by Junior, whose left ear was still pinned to the knot-hole in the wood! His face was red with surprise and delight. WHAT A SECRET! Whatever would his pop say? Dungeons! Perhaps full of gold and jewels and all kinds of things! He rubbed his hands together in delight, thinking that he would soon get even with those annoying children now – as soon as Pop came home, he’d spill everything to him. GEE!

Timmy heard the small sound of Junior rubbing his hands together and sat up, growling, his ears pricked. Snippet growled too, a miniature little sound that nobody took seriously. Timmy then heard Junior creeping away, afraid because he had heard the big dog growling. Timmy growled again and then barked sharply, running to the shut door of the hen-house, scraping at it with his foot.

‘Somebody’s outside – quick! If it’s Junior, I’ll throw him on to the muck-heap!’ yelled Dick, and flung open the door. They all trooped out and looked round – but there was nobody there! Junior had shot off at top speed, and was now safely behind the nearest hedge.

‘What was it, Tim?’ said George. She turned to the others. ‘He may have heard those hens scratching near the door,’ she said. ‘There’s no one about. Gosh, I was so afraid that it was that little sneak of a Junior! He’d tell his pop every single thing!’

‘Twins, listen – Mr Finniston told us that one of the things that was saved from the castle – or found afterwards, perhaps – was a great old oak door, iron-studded,’ said Anne, suddenly remembering. ‘Is that one of your kitchen doors?’

‘Yes – that must be the door leading into the dark little passage,’ said Harry. ‘You wouldn’t have noticed it particularly because it’s usually kept open, and it’s very dark just there. Gosh, I suppose it could have come from the castle. It’s enormously thick and strong. I wonder if Dad knows.’

‘We’ll tell him,’ said Harriet. ‘I say – shall we go and look for the site of the castle sometime? If only we could find it! Do you suppose that if we found the cellars and dungeons, full of chests and things, they’d belong to us? The farm belongs to our family, of course, and all the land around.’

‘Does it? Well then, perhaps anything found on this land would be yours!’ said Julian.

‘We might be able to buy a new tractor!’ said the twins, both together, in the same excited voice.

‘Let’s go and look for the castle site now,’ said George, her voice sounding so excited that Timmy sat up and barked.

‘No. We must finish this job,’ said Julian. ‘We promised we would. There’s plenty of time to hunt around, because nobody knows about this except us.’

Julian was wrong, of course. Junior knew – and Junior meant to tell the whole secret to his father as soon as ever he could! He could hardly wait for him to come home.

‘Well, we’d better be getting back to the house,’ said George. ‘We told Mrs Philpot we’d pick some raspberries for supper tonight, so we’d better fetch baskets, and begin. Oh, I do HOPE we find that castle site. I shall dream about it tonight, I know I shall.’

‘Well, try and dream where it is,’ said Julian, with a laugh. ‘Then you can lead us straight to it tomorrow morning. I suppose you haven’t any idea where it might be, have you, twins?’

‘No,’ they said together, frowning. ‘No idea at all!’ And Harriet added, ‘You see, the farm’s so big – and I suppose it might have been built anywhere on our land.’

‘Yes – but probably near the top of a hill,’ said Julian. ‘Castles used to overlook surrounding land, you know, so that approaching enemies could easily be seen. And then again, George said Mr Finniston told them that the Lady of the castle escaped with her children and took them in safety to the chapel, which wouldn’t be very far away. I should guess that the castle site must be not further than a quarter of a mile from the chapel, so that narrows the search down a bit. By the way, we really must look at the chapel – it sounds interesting, even though it has been used as a storehouse for years!’

The girls picked raspberries for the rest of the afternoon, and the boys finished their jobs. They went back to the farmhouse for tea, feeling pleasantly tired. The girls were already there, laying the table. They pounced on the twins, and George spoke excitedly.

‘Twins! We’ve been looking at the old studded door. It’s MAGNIFICENT! Come and see it, Julian and Dick. If it isn’t from the old castle, I’ll eat my hat – and my shoes as well!’

She took them to the great door that opened from the kitchen into the passage that led to the yard. With much difficulty she swung it shut. They all gazed at it. It had been almost too heavy for George to move! Great iron studs had been driven into it, so deeply and firmly that only by destroying the door itself could they ever be removed. There was a curious iron handle in the middle of the outer side, and George raised it and brought it down smartly. A loud bang resounded through the kitchen, and made the others jump.

‘The knocker that visitors used when they came to the castle, I suppose!’ said George, laughing at their surprised faces. ‘Noise enough to rouse everyone, and alert any guard at once. Do you suppose it was the front door of the castle – it’s big enough! It must be worth hundreds of pounds!’

‘Look out – there’s Junior!’ said Anne, in a low voice. ‘He’s grinning all over his face. What do you suppose he’s been up to? I wish I knew!’

CHAPTER TWELVE

Really very thrilling

AT TEATIME Julian spoke to Mrs Philpot about the old kitchen door. ‘That’s a fine old door,’ he said. ‘Did it come from the castle, do you suppose?’

‘Yes – so it’s said,’ answered Mrs Philpot. ‘Great-Grandad here knows more about it than I do, though.’

Great-Grandad was not at the table. He was sitting in his enormous old chair in the window, with Snippet at his feet. He was pulling contentedly at his pipe, a cup of tea on the windowsill beside him.

‘What’s that?’ called the old man. ‘Speak up!’ Julian repeated what Mrs Philpot had said, and the old fellow nodded.

‘Oh ay! That door’s from the castle all right. Made of the same oak as the beams in the barns, and the floors of the bedrooms above! Ay, and that American fellow’s been at me about it, too! Hoo! Offered me fifty pounds for it. FIFTY POUNDS. I wouldn’t take a thousand. What – have that old door hanging in some newfangled house out in that American country, wherever it is? NO. I say NO, and I’ll say it till I’m blue in the face!’

‘All right, Grandad – don’t upset yourself,’ said Mrs Philpot. She spoke to Julian in a low voice. ‘Change the subject, quickly, or Grandad will go on and on, poor old fellow!’

Julian racked his brain for a change of subject, and fortunately remembered the hen-houses. He at once began to tell Great-Grandad all they had done that afternoon, and the old fellow calmed down at once, and listened with pleasure. Snippet, who had run in fright to the twins as soon as Great-Grandad had begun to shout, ran back to him, and settled on his feet. Timmy also decided to join them, and soon Great-Grandad was completely happy again, drawing on his old pipe, with one dog at his feet, the other resting a great head on his knee. Timmy certainly did love Great-Grandad!

Mr Henning did not come back that night, much to everyone’s relief, but arrived next day just before lunch, bringing with him a dried-up fellow wearing thick glasses, whom he introduced as Mr Richard Durleston.

‘The great Mr Durleston!’ he said proudly. ‘Knows more about old houses in England than anyone else in the country. I’d like him to see that old door after lunch, Mrs Philpot – and the strange opening in the wall of the bedroom upstairs, which was used to heat embers and bricks for warming beds years ago.’

Fortunately Great-Grandad was not there to object, and after they had had dinner, Mrs Philpot took Mr Durleston to the old studded door. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘Quite genuine. Very fine specimen. I should offer two hundred pounds, Mr Henning.’

How Mrs Philpot longed to accept such an offer! What a difference it would make to her housekeeping! She shook her head. ‘You’d have to talk to old Great-Grandad,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid he’ll say no. Now I’ll take you to see the strange old opening up in one of the bedrooms.’

She took Mr Henning and Mr Durleston upstairs, and the four followed, with Timmy. It was indeed a strange opening in the wall! It had a wrought-iron door rather like an old oven door. Mrs Philpot opened it. Inside was a big cavity, which had obviously been used as a kind of oven to heat bricks for placing into cold beds; some of the old bricks were actually still there, blackened with long-ago heating! Mrs Philpot took out what looked like a heavy iron tray with an ornamental raised edge. On it were old, old embers!

‘This tray was used for heating and holding the embers before they were put into warming-pans,’ she said. ‘We still have one old warming-pan left – there on the wall, look.’

The four, just as interested as the two men, looked at the copper warming-pan, glowing red-gold on the wall. ‘The red-hot embers were emptied into that,’ Mrs Philpot told the children, ‘and then the pan was carried by its long handle into all the bedrooms, and thrust into each bed for a few minutes to warm it. And that funny little opening in the wall is, as I said, where people years and years ago heated the embers – and the bricks too, which were wrapped in flannel and left in each bed.’

‘Hmmmmm. Very interesting. Quite rare to see one in such a well-preserved state,’ said Mr Durleston, peering into the opening through thick glasses. ‘You could make an offer for this too, Mr Henning. Interesting old place. We’ll have a look at the barns too, I think, and the outbuildings. Might be a few things there you could pick up with advantage.’

George thought it was a good thing the twins were not with them to hear all this. They seemed to share with their great-grandad a hatred of parting with any of the treasures belonging to the old farmhouse!

Mrs Philpot took the two men downstairs again, and the four followed.

‘I’ll just take Mr Durleston to the old chapel, ma’am,’ said Mr Henning, and Mrs Philpot nodded. She left them and hurried back into the kitchen, where she had a cake baking. The four looked at one another, and Julian nodded his head towards the two men, now making their way out of doors. ‘Shall we go too?’ he said. ‘We haven’t seen this chapel yet, either!’

So they followed the two men, and soon came to a tall, quaint old building with small and beautifully arched windows set high up in the wall. They went in at the door, a few paces behind the two men, and stared in wonder.

‘Yes – you can see it was once a chapel!’ said Julian, instinctively speaking in a low voice. ‘Those lovely old windows – that arch there . . .’

‘And the feel of it!’ said Anne. ‘I know now what old Mr Finniston down at that little shop meant, when he said that though it was now a storehouse, it was still full of prayer! You can feel that people have been here to pray, can’t you? What a lovely little chapel. Oh, I do wish it wasn’t used as a storehouse!’

‘I was told by an old fellow down in the village antique shop that a Lady Phillippa, who was once the Lady of the castle, brought each of her fifteen children here to learn their prayers,’ said Mr Durleston, surprisingly. ‘Hmm, hmm – nice old story. Probably true. Chapels were often built near to castles. Wonder which path they took from the castle to the chapel. All gone now, no castle, nothing! Hmm, hmm.’

‘I’d like to buy this chapel, knock it down, and take it stone by stone to my place in the States,’ said the American enthusiastically. ‘Fine specimen, isn’t it? It would look wonderful in my place.’

‘Can’t advise that,’ said Mr Durleston, shaking his head. ‘Not in good taste. Let’s go to those outbuildings over there. Might see something in the old junk there.’

They went off, and the children stayed behind, entranced with the little chapel. Sacks upon sacks of grain and what looked like fertiliser were arranged in rows all over the floor. A cat had three kittens cuddled together on one sack, and a dove cooed somewhere high up in the arched roof. It was a very peaceful sound, somehow just right for the silent little place. The children trooped out quietly, not feeling inclined to follow the brash Mr Henning round any more.

‘At least the other man stopped him from his mad idea of removing the chapel stone by stone,’ said Anne. ‘I couldn’t bear that beautiful old place to be torn up by its roots and replanted somewhere else.’

‘You sound quite angry, Anne – almost as fierce as old Great-Grandad!’ said Julian, slipping his arm through his sister’s. ‘I don’t somehow think the old chapel will be sold to Mr Henning – even if he offered a million dollars for it!’

‘Well, I like most Americans very much,’ said Anne. ‘But not Mr Henning. He – he wants to buy history just as if it were chocolate or toffee!’

That made the others laugh. ‘I say!’ said Julian. ‘What about having a snoop round, now we’re out, and just see if we can decide where to hunt for the site of the castle? I presume we all agree that it can’t be very far away from the chapel?’

‘Yes – that’s agreed,’ said Dick. ‘And it’s also agreed that the site is probably on a hill. The snag is that there are rather a lot of hills on this undulating farmland!’

‘Let’s make our way over there – up the nearest slope,’ said George. ‘Hallo, here are the twins. We’ll call them. They might like to come.’

The twins soon joined them, and said yes, they would certainly like to hunt for the castle site. ‘But it might take years!’ said Harry. ‘It might be anywhere on the farm!’

‘Well, we plan to examine this slope first,’ said Julian. ‘Heel, Tim, heel, Snippet. Oh gosh, here’s Nosey the jackdaw too. NOT on my shoulder, if you don’t mind, Nosey. I rather value my ears!’

‘Chack!’ said the jackdaw, and flew to the twins.

They made their way up the slope. There was, however, absolutely nothing to be seen except grass, grass, grass! They came to a big mound and stood looking at it.

‘A very large mole must have made that!’ said Dick, which made them all laugh, for the mound was as high as their shoulders. Rabbit holes could be seen at the bottom, though it was probable that very few burrowed there now – the great rabbit disease, myxomatosis, had wiped them practically out of existence on Finniston Farm.

Timmy couldn’t see a rabbit hole without scraping at it, and soon he and Snippet were scattering earth over everyone. Snippet was small enough to disappear into one hole, and came out carrying – of all things – an oyster shell! Julian took it out of his mouth in amazement.

‘Look here – an oyster shell – and we’re miles from the sea. How did it get there? Go in again, Snippet. Scrape hard, Timmy. Buck up! An idea is glimmering in my brain!’

Before long, what with Timmy’s excited scraping and Snippet’s explorations deep into the burrow, quite a collection of oyster shells, and small and large bones lay on the grass!

‘Bones!’ said Anne. ‘Not bones of people surely. Don’t tell me this is a mound covering an old grave or something. Ju.’

‘No. But it is something rather exciting!’ said Julian. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s an old kitchen-midden.’

‘A kitchen-midden? What on earth’s that?’ said George. ‘Oh look – Timmy’s got another mouthful of oyster shells!’

‘A kitchen-midden is what you might call the rubbish-heap of the old days,’ explained Julian, picking up some oyster shells. ‘It was often very big, when it comprised the rubbish thrown out from large houses – or castles! Things like bones and shells wouldn’t rot away like other rubbish – and I do believe we’ve found the kitchen-midden of the old castle. My word – what a find! Now we know something very important!’

‘What?’ asked everyone, in excitement.

‘Well – we know now that the site of the castle must be somewhere on this slope!’ said Julian. ‘The kitchen-midden was probably not far from its walls. We’re on the scent, scouts, we’re on the scent! Come on – let’s go further on. Spread out, examine every inch of the ground!’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Junior springs a surprise

THE SIX children felt a sudden surge of excitement, and Timmy felt it too and barked loudly. Snippet joined in, and the jackdaw danced up and down on Harry’s shoulder, chacking hoarsely. Junior, who had seen them start out and was tracking them, stared in surprise from behind a bush in a nearby hedge. NOW what was all the excitement about? What had Timmy and Snippet found?

He saw the six children spread out and begin to go slowly up the great slope of the hill. Timmy followed them, rather puzzled. He wished he knew what they were looking for – then he could hunt too! Junior kept safely behind the bush. He knew that if he followed too closely after the children, Timmy would hear him, and bark.

Suddenly the Harries gave a shout. ‘Hey!’ The others looked up from their search, and saw them beckoning in excitement. ‘What about THIS? Come and look!’

Everyone hurried over to the twins, who were standing on a little ridge about two hundred metres below the top of the gently sloping hill. ‘Look!’ said Harry, sweeping his arm in a circle. ‘Would this be a likely place for the castle site?’

The four looked at the great shallow depression that the twins pointed to. In shape it was like a very shallow soup plate, certainly big enough for a castle to have been built there! It was covered with thick, closely growing grass, which was a little darker in colour than the grass around.

Julian clapped Harry on the shoulder. ‘Yes! I bet this is where the castle once stood! Why should the ground here suddenly have this great depression in it, as if it had sunk down for some reason? The only reason could be that some enormously heavy building once stood here – and it must have been the castle!’

‘It’s not too far from the kitchen-midden, where they threw their rubbish, is it?’ asked Anne, anxiously, looking back to see how far away that was.

‘No – just about right,’ said Julian. ‘They would be sure to have it some distance away because it would smell, especially in the hot weather. Yes, twins – I think you really have hit on the castle site – and I bet if we had the machinery to excavate here, we’d come across dungeons, cellars, underground passages – and all they contain!’

The twins went red with excitement, and stared solemnly at the great basin-like circle, green with grass. ‘What will our mother say?’ they said, both together.

‘Plenty!’ said Dick. ‘This might be the saving of your farm! But look – let’s not say a word about it yet, in case it gets round to Mr Henning. Let’s get Bill and ask him if he’ll lend us spades and things. We’ll tell him we’ve found some interesting old shells and bones on the hill and want to do a little digging. We’ll soon know if this really is the site of the castle.’

‘Good idea,’ said Julian, excited at the thought of being one of the first to dig down into the old dungeons! ‘Let’s pace round this old site and see how big it is.’

They walked round and round it and decided it was more than big enough for even a large castle. They thought it was strange that the grass should be a different colour there.

‘But it does sometimes happen that grass marks out where old buildings once stood,’ said Julian. ‘I say – this is just about the most exciting thing that ever happened to us – and I’m so glad it was the twins who first recognised the site! After all, it’s on their farm!’

‘Isn’t that Junior running over there?’ said George suddenly, as she saw Timmy prick up his ears, and turn his nose to the wind. ‘Yes, it is. He’s been spying on us, the little beast! There he goes, look!’

‘Well, he can’t know much,’ said Julian, gazing after the running figure. ‘I don’t expect he even knows that a castle was once built here, at the top of this hill – and he certainly wouldn’t know we were looking for the site. He’s just snooping, that’s all.’

But Junior did know all about the old castle, for he had overheard the children talking in the hen-house! And he did know what they had been looking for. He had followed them as closely as he dared, listening to their shouts – and now he felt that he must get back to his father and tell him what he knew!

He found his father still with Mr Durleston, examining an old fireplace. ‘Now that’s worth buying,’ Mr Durleston was saying. ‘You could rip that out, and use it in your own house – a beautiful thing. Very old! And . . .’

‘Pop! I say, Pop! Listen!’ cried Junior, bursting in. Mr Durleston looked annoyed. That boy again! But Junior took no notice of the old man’s annoyance, and pulled urgently at his father’s arm. ‘Dad! I know where the place is that the castle once stood on! And there’s dungeons and cellars underneath, full of treasure, I know there are. Pop, those kids found the place, but they don’t know I saw them!’

‘What is all this, Junior?’ said his father, half-annoyed too. ‘Silly talk! You don’t know anything about castle sites and dungeons and the rest!’

‘I do, I do! I heard them all talking in the hen-house – I told you I did!’ cried Junior, tugging at his father’s sleeve again. ‘Pop, they’ve found an old rubbish-heap too, that belonged to the castle – they called it – a – let me see now – a . . .’

‘A midden?’ asked Mr Durleston, suddenly taking an interest.

‘Yes! That’s it. A kitchen-midden!’ said Junior triumphantly. ‘With bones and shells. And then they looked for where the old castle might have been built – they said it couldn’t have been far away, and . . .’

‘Well, they were right,’ said Mr Durleston. ‘A kitchen-midden would certainly pinpoint the castle area! Mr Henning, this is extremely interesting. If you could get permission to excavate, it would be a . . .’

‘Oh boy!’ said Mr Henning, interrupting, his eyes almost staring out of his head. ‘Can’t you see the papers – “American discovers old castle site – unknown for centuries! Excavates dungeons – finds bones of long-ago prisoners – chests of gold coins . . .”’

‘Not so fast, not so fast,’ said Mr Durleston, disapprovingly. ‘There may be nothing at all there. Let us not count our chickens before they’re hatched. And mind – not a word to the newspapers, Henning. We don’t want a crowd of people rushing to pry over the farm, sending up its price!’

‘I didn’t think of that,’ said Mr Henning, a little cast down. ‘All right – we’ll go carefully. What do you advise?’

‘I should advise you to approach Mr Philpot – not the old great-grandad, but the farmer himself – and offer to put down, say, £250 for the right to excavate up on the hill there,’ said Mr Durleston. ‘Then if you strike anything interesting, you can offer a further sum for whatever’s down there – say another £250. If there is anything there, it will be extremely valuable – so very, very old. Hmmm. Hmmm. Yes, that is my advice to you.’

‘And it sounds pretty good to me,’ said Mr Henning, excitement flooding him again. ‘You’ll stay here and advise me, won’t you, Durleston?’

‘Certainly, certainly, if you are prepared to pay my fee,’ said Durleston. ‘I think it would perhaps be advisable if I approached Mr Philpot, Mr Henning, not you. You might – er – well – give something away in your excitement. You will come with me, of course – but let me do the talking.’

‘Right, old man, you do everything!’ said Mr Henning, feeling friendly with the whole world. He clapped the listening Junior on the back. ‘Well done, son! You may have let us into something good. Now don’t you breathe a word to anyone, see?’

‘Aw shucks!’ said Junior. ‘What do you think I am? My mouth’s sewn up from now on! Think I’d split, Pop, when there’s a chance of getting even with those snooty kids? You go on up that hill when they’ve gone, and have a look yourself. Mr Durleston will know if it’s the real thing or not!’

So, when the six children and dogs were safely out of sight, gone to help with various jobs of work on the farm, Mr Henning and Mr Durleston went with Junior to see the kitchen-midden and the supposed site of the old castle. Mr Henning became very excited indeed, and even the weary-looking Mr Durleston brightened up and nodded his head several times.

‘Looks the real thing!’ he said. ‘Yes, we’ll get going this evening – after that fierce old fellow – the old great-grandad – has gone to bed. He might put a spoke in our wheels. He’s as old as the hills, but as quick as a jackdaw!’

And so, that evening, when Great-Grandad was safely in bed, Mr Henning and Mr Durleston had a private, very private talk with Mr and Mrs Philpot together. The farmer and his wife listened, amazed. When they heard that Mr Henning proposed to hand them a cheque for £250 merely for the right to do a little digging, Mrs Philpot almost cried!

‘And I have advised Mr Henning that he should offer you further sums, if he finds anything he would like to take back to the States with him, as – er – as mementos of a very pleasant stay here,’ finished Mr Durleston.

‘It sounds too good to be true,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘We could certainly do with the money, couldn’t we, Trevor?’

Mr Henning took out his cheque book and produced his pen before Mr Philpot could say anything else. He wrote out the sum of £250, and signed the cheque with a flourish. He then presented it to Mr Philpot.

‘And I hope there’ll be more cheques to come,’ he said. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll get men along tomorrow to start digging.’

‘I’ll have a formal agreement drawn up,’ put in Mr Durleston, thinking that he saw a rather doubtful look coming over Mr Philpot’s face as he took the cheque. ‘But you can cash the cheque straight away. Well, we’ll leave you to talk it over!’

When the twins and the four heard of this the next morning, they were astounded. Mrs Philpot told the twins first, and Harry and Harriet ran at once to find the others. They listened, amazed and angry.

‘How did they know all that? How did they guess where to find the castle site?’ said Dick, fiercely. ‘I bet it’s that snoopy little Junior who put them on to this! I bet he spied on us! I thought I saw two people up on that hill after tea yesterday. It must have been Mr Henning and that friend of his – with Junior. Gosh, I could pull that kid’s hair out!’

‘Well, I suppose there’s absolutely nothing we can do now!’ said George, angrily. ‘The next thing we’ll see is lorries rolling up with men inside, and spades and drills and goodness knows what!’

She was quite right! That very morning the hill became quite a busy place! Four men had already been hired by Mr Henning, and they all went up the hill in their lorry, bumping slowly along, past the kitchen-midden mound, and on up to the shallow basin-like depression near the summit of the hill. Spades, forks and drills rattled in the lorry. Junior was mad with joy, and danced about at a safe distance, yelling defiance at the six children.

‘You thought I didn’t know anything, didn’t you! I heard everything! Serves you right! Yah!’

‘Timmy – chase him!’ ordered George, in a furious voice. ‘But don’t hurt him, mind. Go on!’

And off went Timmy at a gallop, and if Junior hadn’t leapt into the lorry and picked up a spade, Timmy would certainly have rolled him over and over on the ground!

Now what was to be done? The children almost gave up – but not quite! There might be something they could do – there might! Why was Julian suddenly looking so excited?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Snippet and Nosey are very helpful

‘LISTEN!’ SAID Julian, lowering his voice, and looking all about to make sure that no one was near. ‘Do you remember what you told us, George, about a secret passage from the castle to the old chapel?’

‘Yes! Yes! I do!’ said George, and Anne nodded, her eyes bright. ‘You mean the story that old Mr Finniston told us, down at the little antique shop, about the Lady of the castle taking her children in safety from the burning castle, by way of an underground passage to the old chapel? Gosh, I’d forgotten that!’

‘Oh, Julian! Yes, George is right!’ said Anne. ‘Are you thinking that the passage might still be there, hidden underground?’

‘What I think is this,’ said Julian. ‘If the Lady and her children escaped underground, they must first have fled down into the cellars of the castle – and so the passage or tunnel must have started from there. They couldn’t have escaped in any other way because the castle was itself surrounded by enemies. So she must have gone with her children to hide in the cellars – and then, when the castle fell, she took them safely down the secret passage that led to the old chapel. So that means . . .’

‘That means that if we can find the secret passage, we can get into the cellars ourselves – perhaps before the workmen do!’ cried George, almost shouting with excitement.

‘Exactly,’ said Julian, his eyes shining. ‘Now don’t let’s lose our heads and get too excited. Let’s talk about it quietly – and for GOODNESS’ sake keep a watch for Junior.’

‘Timmy – on guard!’ said George, and Timmy at once went some paces away, and stood up straight, looking now in this direction, and now in that. Nobody could come within sight now, without Timmy giving a warning bark!

The children settled down beside a hedge. ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Dick.

‘I vote we go to the old chapel, take a line from there to the castle site, and walk slowly up that line,’ said Julian. ‘We might possibly see something that would guide us as to where the secret passage is. I don’t know what – maybe the grass might be slightly different in colour – a bit darker than the surrounding grass, just as it was on the castle site. Anyway, it’s worth trying. If we do see a line of darker grass, or something like that, we’ll dig down underground ourselves, hoping the secret passage is underneath!’

‘Oh, Ju! What a wonderful idea!’ said Anne. ‘Come on, let’s go down to the chapel straight away!’

So off they all went, Timmy, Snippet and Nosey the jackdaw too. He loved being with Snippet, though he teased him unmercifully. They arrived quickly at the chapel door and went in. ‘I always feel as if there ought to be an organ playing when I’m inside,’ said Anne, looking round the stacked sacks of grain.

‘Never mind about organs,’ said Julian, standing at the open door, and pointing up the hill. ‘Now, see, there’s the place where the old castle stood – where the men are already at work – and if we take a fairly straight line to it, we should be more or less walking over the old passage. I should think the men who made it would drive as straight a tunnel as they could, to save themselves work. A winding one would take a long time.’

‘I can’t see that the grass is any different in colour, along the line I’m looking,’ said Dick, squinting, and everyone agreed, very disappointed.

‘So there’s nothing to help us!’ said George, mournfully. ‘All we can do is to work in a straight line up the hill, and hope to find something that will tell us if we’re over a tunnel. Hollow-sounding footsteps, perhaps!’

‘That’s very doubtful, I’m afraid,’ said Julian. ‘Still, I can’t see that we can do anything else. Come on, then. All right, Tim, you can come back to us. Look at Nosey, on Snippet’s back again! That’s right, Snippet, roll over and get him off.’

‘Chack!’ said Nosey, crossly, as he flew up in the air. ‘Chack!’

The six children walked up the slope in as straight a line as they could. They came right up to where the men were digging, without having seen or heard anything of any help at all. It was most disappointing. Junior saw them, and yelled loudly.

‘Children not allowed here! Keep off! My dad’s bought this place!’

‘Liar!’ shouted back the two Harries at once. ‘You’ve got the right to dig and that’s all!’

‘Yah!’ yelled Junior. ‘You wait! Now don’t you set that great dog on me again! I’ll tell my pop, see?’

Timmy barked loudly, and Junior disappeared in a hurry. George laughed. ‘Silly little idiot! Why doesn’t somebody box his ears? I bet one of the men will before he’s many hours older. Look at him trying to use that drill!’

Junior was certainly not at all popular. He made himself a great nuisance, and in the end his father put him roughly into a lorry and told him to stay there. He howled dismally, but as no one paid any attention, he soon stopped!

The six children went slowly back down the gentle slope of the hill, taking a slightly different line, still hopeful. The jackdaw flew down to Harry’s shoulder, chacking loudly, bored with all this walking! He suddenly saw Snippet sitting down to scratch his neck, and at once launched himself at him. He knew that the poodle always shut his eyes when he scratched himself, and that that was a very good time to give him a well-placed peck!

But, unfortunately for Nosey, the poodle opened his eyes too soon, and saw the jackdaw just about to perch on him! He snapped at him – and got him by the wing! ‘Chack-chack-CHACK!’ cried the jackdaw, urgently calling for help. ‘CHACK!’

Harry ran to Snippet, shouting, ‘Drop him, Snippet, drop him! You’ll break his wing!’ Before he could reach the pair, the jackdaw managed to free himself by giving Snippet a sudden peck on his nose, which made him bark in pain. As soon as he opened his mouth to bark, the jackdaw dropped on the ground, and scuttled away, his wing drooping, unable to fly.

The poodle was after him in a second! The twins yelled in vain. He meant to catch that exasperating jackdaw if it was the last thing he did! The squawking bird looked anxiously for a hiding-place – and saw one! A rabbit hole – just the thing to hop down in a trice! In he went with another loud squawk, and disappeared from sight.

‘He’s gone down that rabbit hole!’ said Dick, with a shout of laughter. ‘Clever old bird. You’re outwitted, Snippet!’

But no – Snippet wasn’t! He disappeared down the hole too! He was as small as a rabbit, and could easily run down a burrow. He had never done more than sniff at one before, being rather scared of dark tunnels – but if Nosey had gone down, well, he would too!

The children stared in surprise. First the jackdaw – now Snippet! The twins bent down by the hole and yelled. ‘Come back, Snippet, you idiot! The hill’s honey combed with old warrens – you’ll get lost for ever. Come back! Snippet. Snip-Snip-Snippet, can you hear us! COME HERE!’

There was silence down the rabbit hole. No chack, no bark. ‘They must have gone deep down,’ said Harry, anxiously. ‘There’s a perfect maze of burrows in this hill. Dad said there used to be thousands of rabbits here at one time. Hey, Snippet – COME HERE!’

‘Well, we’d better sit down till they come back,’ said Anne, feeling suddenly tired with excitement and with climbing up hill and down.

‘Right,’ said Julian. ‘Anyone got any sweets?’

‘I have,’ said George, as usual, and took out a rather grimy packet of peppermints. ‘Here you are; have one, twins?’

‘Thanks,’ they said. ‘We really ought to be getting back – we’ve plenty of work to do!’

They sat sucking their peppermints, wondering what in the world the jackdaw and Snippet were up to. At last Timmy pricked up his ears and gave a small bark, looking at the entrance of the burrow as he did so. ‘They’re coming,’ said George. ‘Timmy knows!’

Sure enough, Timmy was right. Out came first Snippet, and then Nosey, apparently quite good friends again. Snippet rushed to the twins and flung himself on them as if he hadn’t seen them for days. He put something down at their feet. ‘What’s this you’ve found?’ said Harry, picking it up. ‘Some dirty old bone?’

Julian suddenly took it from him, almost snatching it. ‘Bone? No – that’s not a bone. It’s a small carved dagger with a broken handle – old as the hills! SNIPPET! Where did you find it?’

‘The jackdaw’s got something too!’ cried Anne, pointing to him. ‘Look – in his beak!’

Harriet caught the jackdaw easily, for he still could not fly. ‘It’s a ring!’ she said. ‘With a red stone in it – look!’

All six children gazed at the two strange articles. An old carved knife, black with age – and an old ring, with a stone still set in it! They could have come from only one place! George said what everyone was thinking.

‘Snippet and the jackdaw have been to the cellars of the castle! They must have! That burrow must have led straight into the tunnel that goes to the dungeons and the cellars – and they’ve been there! Oh, Snippet – you clever, clever dog – you’ve told us just what we want to know!’

‘George is right!’ said Dick, jubilantly. ‘We know quite a lot of things now, because of Snippet and Nosey. We know there must be plenty of things still in those castle cellars – and we know that some where near the end of this burrow is the secret passage – because that’s the only way they could have got into the cellars – by using the passage! The burrow led into the passage! Don’t you agree, Julian?’

‘You bet!’ said Julian, flushed with excitement. ‘My word, this is a bit of good luck! Hurray for Snippet and Nosey. Look, the jackdaw’s trying to fly, his wing isn’t badly hurt – just bruised, I expect. Good old Nosey – little did he know what his bit of mischief would lead to!’

‘What happens now?’ said George, her eyes shining. ‘Do we dig, too – now that we know where the passage is? It can’t be very far; and once we’ve got down to it, we can easily get into the cellars – before that American does!’

What an excitement! Timmy really thought everyone had gone completely mad!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Digging for the secret tunnel

‘HOW CAN we get permission to dig?’ asked Anne. ‘I mean – will we be allowed to?’

‘I don’t see why not – Mr Henning has only been given permission to dig in one place,’ said Julian. ‘I bet we’d get permission to dig just here – it’s a pretty good way from the castle site, anyway.’

‘Why shouldn’t we just dig and see if anyone stops us?’ said George. ‘If Mr Philpot stops us, we could tell him what we’re really doing. He’d probably let us, then. But whatever happens, we don’t want Mr Henning to know what we’ve discovered – or think we’ve discovered!’

‘Well, what shall we say then, if he asks why we’re digging?’ said Anne.

‘Say silly things – joke about it!’ said Dick. ‘Twins, have you work to do this morning? Can you find us spades, do you think?’

‘Yes – you can have our spades, and Dad’s old ones, too!’ said Harry. ‘We wish we could help – but we’ve tons to do, and we’re very late already.’

‘Oh dear – and I promised that George and I would help in the kitchen!’ said Anne. ‘And pick peas for dinner and pod them – and get more raspberries! Can you and Dick dig all on your own, Ju?’

‘Good heavens, yes!’ said Julian. ‘It’ll be slower with just two of us digging, but we’ll soon get deep down, you’ll see! Anyway, we could all take turns this afternoon, perhaps, if the twins finish their work.’

‘We will! We’ll do it at top speed!’ said Harry and Harriet together. ‘Now we’ll get some spades for you.’

They raced off, with Snippet beside them, and the two girls went down the hill more slowly, feeling very thrilled. If only, only they could dig down and find the secret passage from the chapel to the cellars of the old castle! Timmy felt the excitement and wagged his tail happily. He was always happy when George was thrilled about anything.

Harriet soon brought two big spades and two smaller ones to the boys. They were heavy, and she panted as she carried them up the hill.

‘Good girl – or is it good boy?’ asked Dick, as he took the spades. ‘Wait – it’s Harriet, isn’t it? You’ve no scar on your hand!’

Harriet grinned and ran off swiftly to join her brother in the farm work that was their task. Julian gazed after her. ‘They’re good kids,’ he said, as he turned to drive his spade into the earth. ‘Worth a hundred Juniors! Funny how some children are made of such good stuff, and others aren’t worth a penny. Well, Dick – go to it! This earth is pretty hard. I wish we could borrow one of those machines the men are using up there!’

They dug hard, and were soon very hot indeed. They stripped themselves to their shorts, but were still far too hot. They greeted Anne with joy when she laboured up the slope, carrying a jug of cool lemonade and some buns.

‘I say! You’ve made quite a hole already!’ she said. ‘How far down do you think the tunnel will be?’

‘Well, not too far down, really,’ said Dick, taking a long drink of the lemonade. ‘This is super, Anne. Thanks a lot. We’ve dug into the burrow, and we’re following it at the moment – hoping it will enter the secret tunnel before we’re too tired to dig any more!’

‘I say – here comes Junior!’ said Anne suddenly, looking up the slope. Sure enough, it was the American boy, feeling quite brave now that neither Timmy nor Snippet was about.

He stopped a little way away and shouted: ‘What do you think you’re doing, digging in our hill?’

‘Go away and lose yourself !’ shouted back Dick. ‘This isn’t your hill! If you can dig, so can we!’

‘Copy-cats!’ shouted Junior. ‘My pop’s laughing his head off about you!’

‘Well, tell him to pick it up before it rolls down the hill!’ yelled Dick. ‘Clear off!’

Junior watched them for a little while, puzzled, and then went off up the hill, presumably to report to his father. Anne laughed and went back to the farmhouse.

‘As his pop doesn’t know a thing about the secret passage, he must think we’re off our heads, digging here,’ said Julian, with a chuckle. ‘Well, let him think so. He’ll be off his head with rage when he finds out what we’re really doing – and he won’t know that till we’re in the cellars!’

Dick laughed, and wiped his forehead again. ‘I wish this burrow would come to an end. And I hope to goodness it does lead into the side of the tunnel. I don’t want to have to dig up half the hillside. The ground’s so hard and dry.’

‘Well, thank goodness it’s getting sandy here,’ said Julian, driving his spade deeper down. He suddenly gave a cry. ‘I say! My spade went right down by itself, then! I believe I’ve come to the secret passage! The burrow must go right through one side of it!’

He was right! The rabbit hole ran sideways and down – and into a passage! The boys dug feverishly now, panting, their hair falling over their foreheads, perspiration dripping off their faces.

Soon they had a deep hole, fairly wide – and at the bottom of it a way into the tunnel beneath! They lay down and peered into it. ‘It’s just over a metre below the surface,’ said Dick. ‘We might have had to do much more digging than this! Whew, I’m hot!’

‘It must be dinner-time,’ said Julian. ‘I don’t really like to leave our hole, now that we’ve got down to the tunnel. And yet we simply must have something to eat. I’m ravenous!’

‘So am I. But if we leave the hole unguarded, that pest of a Junior might come along and climb down and find the passage!’ said Dick. ‘Look – here comes George – with old Tim. I wonder if she’d leave him here to guard the hole.’

George was delighted to hear their news. She gazed down the hole in great excitement. ‘How deeply you’ve dug!’ she said. ‘No wonder you’re hot. My word – if Mr Henning knew what you’ve found, he’d be down here in two shakes of a duck’s tail!’

‘He certainly would,’ said Julian, soberly. ‘That’s what we’re afraid of. Or that snoopy Junior might climb down into the hole, if he came along. He’s been here already to see what we’re doing.’

‘We’re scared of going in to dinner, in case one of them comes along and investigates the hole while it’s unguarded,’ said Dick. ‘And we wondered if—’

But George interrupted him, almost as if she knew what he was going to say. ‘I’ll leave Timmy here on guard, while you come down to dinner,’ she said. ‘He won’t let anyone come within metres of it!’

‘Thanks, old thing,’ said the boys gratefully, and went off down the hill with George, leaving Timmy behind. ‘On guard, Timmy,’ said George. ‘On guard. Don’t let anyone come near that hole.’

‘Woof,’ said Timmy, understanding at once, and looking fiercely all round and about him. He lay down with a small growl. Let anyone come near the boys’ hole, if they dare!

They did dare – but when they saw Timmy leaping to his feet, the hackles on his neck thick and upright, and heard his deep, continuous growl, Junior and his father thought better of it, and went on down the hill to have dinner at the farmhouse. Poor Mr Durleston trailed behind them, almost knocked out by the heat of the sun.

‘Silly kids,’ said Mr Henning to Junior. ‘Thinking it’s clever to dig just because we’re digging? What do they suppose they’ll find down there? Another kitchen-midden?’

Junior sent a stone scudding along towards Timmy – and then fled for his life as the dog came bounding angrily down the slope. Even Mr Henning hurried. He didn’t like Timmy either!

That afternoon the twins, Julian, Dick, George, Anne and Snippet all climbed the hill to the hole, where Tim still lay watching for intruders. They brought him two fine bones, and a jug of water. He was very pleased indeed. Snippet danced round, hoping for a bite at a bone, and the jackdaw, his wing apparently quite recovered now, dared to go and peck at the bigger bone, even though Timmy growled warningly!

The twins were thrilled to see the deep hole. ‘Can’t we go down now?’ they said eagerly, both together.

‘Yes – it would be a jolly good time to let ourselves slide into the tunnel,’ said Julian. ‘All the men working on the castle site have gone off to have dinner at the little village pub, and haven’t yet come back – and the Hennings and Mr Durleston are safely at the farmhouse.’

‘I’ll go first,’ said Dick, and lowered himself into the hole. He held on to the grassy edges and poked hard with his feet, to widen the opening into the tunnel. Then he let himself slide down until his legs were out of the rabbit hole, and dangled through the wall of the tunnel.

‘Here we go!’ he said, and let himself drop. Whooooosh! He slid right into a dark, musty tunnel, and landed on soft earth. ‘Chuck me down a torch,’ he shouted. ‘It’s pitch-dark in here. Did you remember to bring our torches, George?’

Yes, George had four! ‘Look out!’ she said. ‘Here comes one!’ And she dropped it down the hole. She had already switched it on, so Dick saw it coming and caught it neatly. He shone it into the dark place around him.

‘Yes! It is a tunnel!’ he shouted. ‘The secret passage, no doubt about it! I say – isn’t this great? Come on down, all of you, let’s share in the find together. Let’s walk right up to the castle cellars. Come on, everybody! Come on!’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Up the tunnel and into the cellars

DICK HELD up his torch to the hole, so that the others might see their way. One by one they slid into the dark tunnel, too excited for words. Timmy came too, and so did Snippet, but the jackdaw thought better of it, and remained at the enlarged opening of the burrow, chacking loudly.

The children swung their torches to and fro. ‘That must be the way down to the old chapel,’ said Julian, his torch shining down the dark tunnel. No one could stand upright just there except Timmy, for the roof was low. He sniffed suspiciously here and there, and kept close to George.

‘Well – come on!’ said Julian, his voice shaking a little with excitement. ‘We’ll go straight up, and see where the passage ends. My word – I can hardly wait to see what’s at the top!’

They made their way slowly up the passage. There had been roof-falls here and there, but not enough to matter. Tree roots, withered and twining, sometimes caught their feet. ‘Funny!’ said Harry, in astonishment. ‘There aren’t any trees growing on the hillside here – why the roots, then?’

‘They may be the remains of the roots of long-ago trees that did once grow on the hill,’ said Julian, shining his torch up the passage, hoping against hope that there would be no serious obstacle to their journey. ‘Hallo – what’s this at my feet? Two feathers! Now how in the world did they get here!’

It was a puzzle! The children examined them earnestly by the light of their torches. Feathers – looking quite new too – how did they get there? Was there any other way into the passage – and had the birds found it?

Dick gave a shout of laughter that made everyone jump. ‘We’re idiots! They’re two of the jackdaw’s feathers – they must have dropped out of his bitten wing when he went down the burrow and up this passage with Snippet after him!’

‘Of course! Why on earth didn’t I think of that?’ said Julian. They went on upwards once more, and then Julian suddenly stopped again. A curious humming noise had come down the dark, low tunnel, a throbbing that seemed to get right inside their heads.

‘What’s that?’ said Anne, in great alarm. ‘I don’t like it.’

They all stood there, and felt, like Anne, that the noise was indeed inside their heads. They shook them, put their fingers into their ears – but it was no good. The strange throbbing went on and on.

‘This is a bit too mysterious for me,’ said Anne, scared. ‘I don’t think I want to go on.’

The noise stopped, and they all felt better at once – but almost immediately it started again. To everyone’s surprise, George began to laugh.

‘It’s all right! It’s only those men at work on the castle site. It’s their drills we can hear – throbbing through the hillside, and down this passage right into our ears. They must be back from lunch. Cheer up, everybody!’

They all smiled in relief, though Anne’s hands were still shaking a little as she held up her torch to shine through the black darkness. ‘There’s not an awful lot of air here,’ she said. ‘I hope we soon get into the cellars!’

‘They can’t be far,’ said Julian. ‘This tunnel goes in a pretty straight line, just as we thought it would. Where it curves, it’s probable that the men of long ago who made it were forced to burrow round tree roots that blocked their way. Anyway, as we can hear the drills so loudly now, we can’t be far from the castle site.’

They were nearer than they thought! Julian’s torch suddenly shone on the remains of a great door, lying on the ground before him – the door that once shut off the cellars from the passage! The tunnel ceased just there, and the torches shone on a vast underground place, silent, full of shadows.

‘We’re there!’ said Julian, in a whisper that went scurrying round in the darkness and came back as a strange echo that said: ‘There-there-there-there-there.’

‘That fallen door must have been one made all those years gone by!’ said Anne, in awe. She touched a corner of it with her foot, and the wood crumbled into dust with a strange little sigh.

Snippet pushed in front of them and ran into the cellars. He gave a short bark as if to say, ‘Come on – don’t be afraid. I’ve been here before.’

‘Oh, Snippet, be careful!’ said Anne, half-afraid that everything would crumble away at the sound of Snippet’s pattering feet!

‘Let’s go on – but carefully,’ said Julian. ‘Everything will be ready to crumble into dust – unless it’s made of metal! It’s a marvel that door was preserved like that – it looks good enough – but I’m sure if any of us sneezed it would be gone.’

‘Don’t make me laugh, please, Ju,’ said Dick, stepping carefully round the fallen door. ‘Even a laugh might do damage down here!’

Soon they were all in the blackness of the underground cellars. They flashed their torches around. ‘What a vast place!’ said Julian. ‘Can’t see any dungeons, though!’

‘Thank goodness!’ said Harriet and Anne together. They had both dreaded coming across old bones of long-forgotten prisoners!

‘Look – there’s an archway,’ said George, shining her torch to the right. ‘A fine, semicircular arch it is, too, made of stone – and there’s another, look. They must lead into a main underground chamber, I should think. There’s nothing much to see just here, except heaps of dirt. It all smells so musty, too!’

‘Well, follow me carefully,’ said Julian, and led the way towards the stone archways, his torch shining brightly. They came to one of the beautiful rounded arches and stood there, all four torches shining brightly into a large underground room.

‘No cellars here – but just one great underground storeroom,’ said Julian. ‘The roof was shored up with great beams – see, some of them have fallen. And those stone arches must have borne much of the weight, too. Not one of those has fallen! They must have stood there for centuries – what wonderful workmanship!’

Dick and the twins were more interested in the great mass of jumble scattered about round the walls. It was covered with dust that rose lightly into the air when Timmy brushed against anything. Snippet ran round happily, sniffing everywhere, and sneezing every now and again as the fine dust went up his nose.

‘Any treasures, do you think?’ whispered Anne, and the echo came back weirdly, whispering too.

‘Whispers seem to echo back more than our ordinary voices!’ said Julian. ‘Hallo – what’s this?’

They shone their torches on to the floor where lay what looked like a heap of blackened metal. Julian bent down and then gave a loud exclamation. ‘Do you see what this is? A suit of armour! Almost perfect still. Look, though, it must be ages old – and here’s another – and another! Were they old ones, thrown out – or spare ones? Look at this helmet – grand!’

He kicked it gently with his foot, and it gave out a metallic sound and rolled away a little. ‘Would that be valuable now?’ asked Harry, anxiously.

‘Valuable! Worth its weight in gold, I should think!’ said Julian, such excitement in his voice that everyone felt even more thrilled. Harriet called to him urgently.

‘Julian – here’s a chest of some sort. Quick!’

They went slowly over to where she stood, for they had already learnt that any quick movement raised clouds of fine, choking dust. She pointed to a great dark chest, its corners bound with iron, and with iron strapping all round it.

It was made of wood, as black with age as the iron itself. ‘What’s inside, do you think?’ whispered Harriet, and at once her whisper echoed from every corner: ‘You think, you think, you think . . .’

Timmy went to sniff at the chest – and to his amazement it disintegrated at once! Slowly, softly, the sides and the great lid fell into dust that settled gently on the ground around. Only the iron corners and strapping were left. It was strange to watch something crumble away before their eyes. Like magic! thought Anne.

As the wooden sides of the chest crumbled, something shone out brightly in the light of the torches – something that moved and slid out of the chest, as the sides fell away – fell with a jingling, clinking, sound, curious to hear in that silent darkness.

The children stared in astonishment, hardly believing their eyes. Anne clutched Julian and made him jump. ‘Ju! What is it? Is it gold?’

Julian bent to pick up one of the rolling pieces. ‘Yes! It’s gold. No doubt about it. Gold never tarnishes, it keeps bright for ever. These are gold coins of some sort, treasured and hidden away. There couldn’t have been time to take them, when the Lady fled with her children – and no one else would be able to get them, for the castle was burnt down and buried by the falling walls! This hoard of gold must have lain here untouched all these long years.’

‘Waiting for us to come!’ said George. ‘Twins – your mother and father needn’t worry about their farm any more! With the proceeds from the treasures down here they will be able to buy all the tractors and equipment they could possibly need! Julian, there’s another chest, look – like this one, but smaller, and beginning to fall to pieces. Let’s see what’s inside that! More gold, I hope.’

But the second chest did not hold gold pieces – it held a different kind of treasure! One side had burst open, and its contents had dribbled out.

‘Rings!’ said Anne, picking up two from the dust in which they lay.

‘A golden belt!’ said George. ‘And look – these tarnished chains must be necklaces, because they’re set with blue stones. This must be where the jackdaw found that ring!’

‘We’ve found something else, too!’ called Harry, his excited voice making everyone jump. ‘Look – racks of swords and daggers! Some are beautifully carved, too!’

Clamped to the wall were iron racks, held in place by great iron rods driven deep into the hard earth of the wall. Some had loosened and the racks hung crooked, their knives and swords askew, or lay on the floor. Snippet ran to pick one up – just as he had done before when he and Nosey first went into the cellars by themselves!

‘What wonderful swords!’ said Julian, picking one up. ‘My word, this one’s heavy! I can hardly hold it! Good gracious – what’s that?’

Something had fallen from the roof of the cellar in which they were standing – a great piece of old wood, that had originally been placed there as part of the roofing. At the same time the continual hum of the drilling above rose to a roar that made the children jump.

Julian gave a shout. ‘Out of here, quickly!’ he yelled. ‘Those men will soon be through the roof, and it may suddenly fall and bury us! We’ll have to go at once!’

He snatched a dagger from the rack, and still with the sword in his hand, ran back to the entrance of the secret passage, pulling Anne with him. The twins were last of all, for they had run to get a handful of the gold, and two of the necklaces and rings. They must show their mother a few of the treasures, they must!

Just as they reached the entrance, more of the roof fell. ‘We’ll have to stop this excavating,’ panted Julian, looking back. ‘If the roof falls in, it may destroy many of the old treasures there!’

They hurried into the dark, low tunnel, feeling more excited than they had ever felt in their lives! Timmy led the way, glad to think they were going out into the open air once more!

‘What will Mother say?’ the twins kept saying to one another. ‘Whatever will she say!’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Trapped!

THE SIX children stumbled down the tunnel, still hearing the far-off sound of the drills, and fearing that at any moment the cellars would be discovered by Mr Henning, who, no doubt, would be anxiously watching from above!

They came to where they thought the burrow must be, that Dick had dug through – but instead, there was nothing but a great mass of earth, some of it seeping into the tunnel! Julian gazed at it by the light of his torch, dismayed.

‘The burrow’s fallen in!’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘What are we to do? We’ve no spades to dig ourselves out!’

‘We can use our hands,’ said Dick, and began to scrabble at the fallen earth, sweeping it into the tunnel. But as he scrabbled, more and more earth fell into the widened burrow, and Julian stopped Dick at once. ‘No more of that, Dick – you might start an earthfall, and we’d all be buried alive. Oh gosh – this is awful! We’ll have to go back up the passage and try to make the men hear us shouting. BLOW! That means Mr Henning will know what we’re up to.’

‘I don’t believe the men will be there much longer,’ said Dick, looking at his watch. ‘They pack up at five, and it’s almost that now. My word, we’ve been ages – Mrs Philpot will wonder where we all are.’

‘The drilling has just stopped,’ said Anne. ‘I haven’t got that awful noise inside my ears any longer.’

‘In that case, it’s certainly no good going back up the tunnel,’ said Julian. ‘They’d be gone before we got there. I say, you know – this is serious. I ought to have thought of this – any idiot knows that ground entrances to passages should be strengthened, if they’re newly dug!’

‘Well, we can always go back to the cellars and wait for the men to come tomorrow,’ said George, sounding more cheerful than she felt.

‘How do we know they’ll be there tomorrow?’ said Dick. ‘Henning may have paid them off today, if he’s disappointed in his hopes!’

‘Don’t be such a dismal Jimmy!’ said George, sensing that the twins were getting panicky. They certainly were worried – but more because they were certain that their mother would be scared to death if they didn’t come home, than for their own safety.

Timmy had been standing patiently beside George, waiting to get out of the hole. At last, tired of waiting, he trotted away – but down the tunnel – not up!

‘Timmy! Where are you going?’ cried George, and shone her torch on him. He turned his head and looked at her, showing quite clearly by his manner that he was tired of standing about, and intended to find out where the tunnel led!

‘Ju, look at Timmy! He wants us to go down the tunnel!’ cried George. ‘Why didn’t we think of that?’

‘I don’t know! I’m afraid I thought it would be a sort of blind alley!’ said Julian. ‘I fear it will, too. Nobody knows where the chapel entrance to the tunnel is, do they, twins?’

‘No,’ they said, both together. ‘It’s never been discovered, as far as we know.’

‘Anyway, it’s worth trying,’ said George, her voice sounding muffled as she went down the passage after the impatient Timmy. ‘I’m getting suffocated in here!’

The others followed, Snippet dancing along behind, thinking the whole thing was a huge joke. The tunnel, as the children had imagined, went downwards in more or less a straight line. It had fallen in slightly here and there, but by bending their heads and crouching low, they managed to get through. Finally they came to a bad fall of earth from the roof, and had to crawl through on hands and knees. Anne didn’t like that part at all!

They came at last into a strange little place, where the tunnel ended abruptly. It was like a stone vault – a little chamber about one and a half metres high and two metres square. Julian looked up fearfully at its low roof. Was it of stone? If so, they were trapped. They would never be able to lift a heavy stone slab!

No – not all the roof was made of stone. A piece in the middle about a metre square was made of strong stout wood, which rested on ledges cut in the stone.

‘It looks like a trap-door,’ said Julian, examining it by the light of his torch. ‘I wonder if we are just below the floor of the old chapel? Dick, if you and I and Harry all heave at the same time, we might be able to move this trap-door.’

So they all heaved, George, too – but although the door did lift a little at one corner, it simply could not be moved upwards.

‘I know why we can’t move it,’ said Harry, red in the face with heaving. ‘There are sacks of grain and fertiliser and all kinds of stuff spread over the floor of the old chapel! They’re heavy as lead! We’d never be able to move that trap-door if two or three sacks are on it!’

‘Gosh – I didn’t think of that,’ said Julian, his heart sinking. ‘Didn’t you know of this entrance into the tunnel, twins?’

‘Of course not!’ said Harry. ‘Nobody did. I can’t think why it wasn’t known, though. Except, of course, that a storehouse like this has its floor always covered with sacks of something, and with the spillings out of those sacks! It may not have been cleaned out or swept for hundreds of years!’

‘Well, what are we to do now?’ demanded Dick. ‘We can’t stay here in this stuffy little place!’

‘Listen – I can hear something!’ said George suddenly. ‘Noises overhead.’

They listened intently, and, through the tightly fitting oak trap-door above them, they heard a loud voice shouting. ‘GIVE US A HAND, BILL, WILL YOU?’

‘It’s Jamie – the men are working overtime this week!’ said Harry. ‘He’s come to get something out of the chapel. Quick, let’s all yell and hammer on the trap-door with whatever we’ve got that’ll make a noise!’

At once there was a riot of sound from the little vault – yells, shouts, barks, and the hammering of sword handles and fists on the wooden slab overhead. Then the children ceased their hammering, and fell silent, listening. They heard Jamie’s voice, lifted in wonder.

‘Bill! What in the name of goodness was that? A rat-fight, do you suppose?’

‘They heard us,’ said Julian, excited. ‘Come on – once again. And bark the place down, Timmy!’

Timmy was only too ready to oblige, for he was very tired of tunnels and dark, echoing places by now! He barked long and fiercely, frightening Snippet so much that the little poodle actually ran back up the tunnel! What with Tim’s barking, and everyone’s yelling, and the constant hammering, the noise was even louder than before, and Bill and Jamie listened in amazement.

‘Comes from over there,’ said Bill. ‘Something’s going on there. Beats me what it is though. If it were night-time, I’d think it were ghosties having a game! Come on – we’ll have a look.’

The place was so full of sacks that the two men had to clamber over the rows, disturbing the cat and her kittens. She had curled herself round them, scared of the unexpected noise.

‘This corner, Bill,’ said Jamie, standing on top of two layers of sacks. He put his hands to his mouth and bellowed like a bull.

‘ANYONE ABOUT?’

The six below answered frantically at the tops of their voices, Timmy barking too.

‘There’s a dog barking down there,’ said Bill, scratching his head, puzzled, looking down at the sacks as if he thought there might be a dog in one of them.

‘A dog! There’re folks as well,’ said Jamie, astounded. ‘Where are they? Can’t be under these sacks!’

‘Maybe they’re in that little old store place we found one day, in the floor,’ suggested Bill. ‘Remember? Under an old trap-door, it were, that were covered by a great slab of stone. You remember, man!’

‘Oh ay,’ said Jamie, and then the clamour began again, for the children were now getting near despair. ‘Come on, Bill,’ said Jamie, hearing the note of urgency, though he couldn’t make out a word from below. ‘Heave over these here sacks. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this!’

They heaved a dozen sacks away, and then at last the trap-door was uncovered. The stone slab that had once hidden it had been taken up some years ago by the two men and now stood against the wall. They had not bothered to replace it, not guessing that the ‘little old store place’ as they had thought it, was really an entrance to a secret, long-forgotten passage. It was fortunate indeed for the children that only the old wooden trap-door was between them and the men, for if the stone slab had been there too, no sound of their shouting would have been heard in the old chapel above!

‘Now for this here trap-door,’ said Bill. He tapped on it with his great boot. ‘Who’s down here?’ he demanded, wondering what the answer would be.

‘US!’ shrieked the twins, and the others joined in, with Timmy barking frantically again.

‘Bless us all – that’s the twins’ voices I heard!’ said Jamie. ‘How did they climb into the storeroom without moving these here sacks?’

With a great heave the two men pulled up the heavy wooden slab, and looked down in the greatest astonishment at the little crowd below! They couldn’t believe their eyes! Timmy was the first out. He leapt upwards and landed beside the men, wagging his great tail and licking them lavishly.

‘Oh, thanks, Bill, thanks, Jamie,’ cried the twins as the two men pulled them up. ‘Gosh, I’m thankful you were working overtime – and happened to come in here!’

‘Your ma’s been hollering for you,’ said Bill, disapprovingly. ‘And didn’t you say you were going to help me with those poles?’

‘How did you get down there?’ demanded Jamie, pulling up the others one by one. Julian was the last, and he handed up poor scared little Snippet, who really felt he had had quite enough adventures for one day!

‘Oh – it’s too long a story to tell you just now,’ said Harry. ‘But thanks again most awfully, Bill and Jamie. Can you put that slab back? Don’t tell anyone we were down there till we tell you how it happened, see? Now we’ll have to rush and tell Mother we’re all right!’

And away they all went, longing for tea, tired out, full of thankfulness at their escape from the little stone room under the chapel floor. What would everyone say when they displayed the treasures they had brought back with them?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A great story to tell!

THE TWINS tore down to the farmhouse, and saw their mother still looking for them. They flung themselves on her, and she gave them a loving shake.

‘Where have you been? You’re an hour late for tea, all of you. I’ve been so worried. Mr Henning told me some story about you digging up on the hillside!’

‘Mother! We’re ravenous, so let’s have tea and we’ll tell you some great news,’ said the twins, both together. ‘Mother, you will be astonished. Where’s Dad – and Great-Grandad too?’

‘They’re still at the tea-table – they were late too,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘They’ve been out looking for you all! Great-Grandad isn’t very pleased. What in the world have you brought with you? Surely those are not swords?’

‘Mother, let’s have tea first and we’ll tell you everything!’ said the twins. ‘ Must we wash? Oh blow – all right, come on, everyone, let’s wash. And we’ll put our treasures down in the darkest corner, so that Dad and Great-Grandad won’t see them till we’re ready to show them!’

Soon they were all sitting down at the tea-table, glad to see a wonderful spread! Great slices of thickly buttered bread, home-made jam, home-made cheese, a fat ginger cake, a fruit cake, a dish of ripe plums, and even a home-cooked ham if anyone wanted something more substantial!

Mr Philpot and old Great-Grandad were still at the table, drinking a last cup of tea. Mrs Philpot had told them that the children had to wash, but would tell all that had happened when they came to their tea.

‘Hoo!’ said Great-Grandad, frowning till his great bushy eyebrows almost covered his nose. ‘When I was a boy I daren’t come in one minute late for my meals! You twins have worried your mother – that’s bad!’

‘We’re awfully sorry, Great-Grandad,’ said the twins, in unison. ‘But just wait till you hear our story. Julian – you tell it!’

And so, between great munches of bread and butter, ham sandwiches, and slices of cake, the story was told, all the children joining in now and again.

Great-Grandad already knew that Mr Henning had been given permission to excavate, and that a cheque for £250 had been given to Mr Philpot. He had flown into a terrible temper, and only when Mrs Philpot had sobbed and said that she would give it back, though she could hardly bear to part with it, had Great-Grandad given in. Now ready to fly into another rage, he listened to the children’s story. He forgot to drink his cooling tea. He forgot to fill his pipe. He even forgot to ask a single question! Never had he heard such a wonderful, glorious tale in his life!

Julian told the story well, and the others filled in any bits he left out. Mrs Philpot’s eyes almost fell out of her head when she heard how Snippet and Nosey had gone into the rabbit burrow and come out with a broken dagger and a ring!

‘But – but where did . . .’ she began, and listened again, to hear how Dick and Julian had enlarged the burrow, crawled right through it, and slid down into the long-lost secret tunnel!

‘HA!’ said Great-Grandad, getting out his great red handkerchief, and dabbing his forehead with it. ‘HA! Wish I’d been there. Go on, go on!’

Julian had stopped to drink his tea. He laughed and went on, describing how they had all gone up the tunnel with their torches, the dogs with them.

‘It was dark and smelly, and suddenly we heard a terrific noise!’ he said.

‘It got right inside our heads!’ put in Anne.

‘What was it, what was it?’ said Great-Grandad, his eyes almost as big as the saucer in front of him.

‘The noise of the men drilling up on the old castle site,’ said Julian, and Great-Grandad exploded in wrath. He pointed his pipe at his grandson, the farmer. ‘Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t have those men on my farm?’ he began, and then calmed down as Mrs Philpot patted his arm, shushing him. ‘Go on, Julian,’ she said.

And then came the really exciting part, the story of how they came into the actual cellars of the castle – the stone archways – the age-old dust . . .

‘And the echoes!’ said Anne. ‘When we whispered, a hundred other whispers came back!’

When Julian described their finds – the old armour, still good, but black with age – the rack of swords and knives and daggers – the chest of gold . . .

‘GOLD! I don’t believe you!’ shouted Great-Grandad. ‘You’re making that up, young man. Don’t you pile up your tale too much, now. Stick to the truth.’

The twins promptly took some of the gold coins out of their pockets, still brilliant and shining. They laid them on the table in front of the three amazed grown-ups.

‘There you are! They will tell you if we are making up all this or not – these gold coins! They will speak more loudly than words!’

In awe Mr Philpot picked them up, and passed them one by one to the old man, and to his wife. Great-Grandad was astounded and speechless. He simply could not say a single word. He could only grunt and puff as he turned the coins over in his great horny hand.

‘Are they really gold?’ said Mrs Philpot, quite overcome at the sudden appearance of the shining coins. ‘Trevor – will they belong to us? Does it mean – does it mean that we’ll be well enough off to buy a new tractor for you – and . . .’

‘Depends how much of this stuff there is, up in those old cellars,’ said Mr Philpot, trying to keep calm. ‘And depends on how much we’re allowed to keep, of course. Might belong to the Crown by now.’

‘THE CROWN!’ roared Great-Grandad, standing up suddenly. ‘The CROWN! No, SIR! It’s mine! Ours! Found on my land, put there by our ancestors. Yes – and I’ll give old Mr Finniston down in the village a share, so I will. He’s been a good friend of mine for years!’

The children thought that was quite a good idea! They then showed the jewellery they had brought, and Mrs Philpot marvelled at it, tarnished though it was.

But the swords and dagger brought the greatest excitement to old Great-Grandad and his grandson, Mr Philpot! As soon as they heard that the children had actually brought back some of the old weapons, the two men got up and went to get them. Great-Grandad picked up the biggest and heaviest of the swords, and swung it dangerously round his head, looking like a reincarnation of some fearsome old warrior, with his great beard and blazing eyes.

‘No, no, Grandad!’ said Mrs Philpot in fright. ‘Oh, you’ll knock down the things on the dresser – there, I knew you would! Bang goes my meat dish!’

And down it went, CRASH! Timmy and Snippet almost jumped out of their skins, and began to bark frantically.

‘Sit DOWN, all of you!’ cried Mrs Philpot to the excited dogs and the men. ‘Let Julian finish his story! Great-Grandad, SIT DOWN!’

‘Ha,’ said Great-Grandad, a broad smile on his face, sitting down in his chair. ‘HA! Did me good to swing that sword. Where’s that American? I might try it out on him!’

The children roared with delight. It was great to see the old man so delighted. ‘Go on with that tale of yours,’ he said to Julian. ‘You tell it well, boy. Go on! Now, Ma, don’t you take my sword away. I’m keeping it here, between my legs, in case I want to use it. HA!’

Julian quickly finished his tale, and told how they had walked back down the passage and found their burrow entrance fallen in – and then gone right down the rest of the tunnel and come at last into the little stone-walled room.

‘And we couldn’t get out,’ said Julian. ‘There was a great wooden trap-door over our heads, and on it lay a dozen or so sacks – heavy as lead! We couldn’t lift it. So we yelled!’

‘So that’s where the secret passage led to!’ said Mr Philpot. ‘How did you get out?’

‘We yelled and hammered, and Bill and Jamie heard us, and pulled off the sacks, and lifted up the old trapdoor,’ said Julian. ‘Gosh, we were glad to see them! We thought we might be lost for ever! Jamie knew about the little stone vault down under the chapel floor – but he thought it was just an old storeroom!’

‘I’ve never heard of it before,’ said Mrs Philpot, and old Great-Grandad nodded his head in agreement.

‘No more have I,’ he said. ‘For as long as I can remember the floor of that old chapel has been piled with sacks, and what bits I could see of the floor were covered with thick dust. Yes, even when I was a boy, playing hide and seek in the old place, it was full of sacks – and that’s every bit of eighty-five years ago now! Well, well – seems like yesterday I was playing in there with a cat and her kittens!’

‘There’s a cat and her kittens there now,’ said Anne.

‘Ay, little lass – and there’ll be a cat and her kittens there when you’re an old, old woman!’ said Great-Grandad. ‘There’s some things never change, thanks be to the Lord. Well, well – I can sleep easy of a night now – I reckon you and the farm will be all right, Trevor, with the money you’ll make out of those old finds – and I’ll live to see the twins growing up and handling the finest farm in Dorset, so I shall – with everything newfangled they want, bless their bonny faces! And now I’ll just have one more swing with that sword!’

The children fled! Great-Grandad looked years younger already – and goodness knows what damage he would do with that great sword! What an afternoon it had been – one they would never forget!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘The most exciting adventure we’ve ever had!’

AFTER ALL the excitement of the afternoon the children felt lazy. The twins went off to feed the chickens. ‘Better late than never!’ they said, together.

‘Where are Mr Henning and Mr Durleston and that awful Junior, Mrs Philpot?’ asked George, getting up to help with the washing of the tea-things.

‘Oh, Mr Henning came in to say he and Mr Durleston were going to a meal at a hotel, and taking Junior too,’ said Mrs Philpot. ‘He seemed very pleased with himself indeed. He said that they had broken through to the cellars of the old castle, and expected great things – and that maybe a second cheque of £250 would be coming soon!’

‘You won’t take it, though, will you, Mrs Philpot?’ said Julian quickly, overhearing what was being said. ‘The things down in that cellar will be worth much more than any money Mr Henning is likely to offer you. He’d only take them to America and sell them for vast sums and make a huge profit. Why should you let him do that?’

‘That nice old man, Mr Finniston, down in the little antique shop, would know what everything was worth,’ said George. ‘And he’s a descendant of the long-ago Finnistons of Finniston Castle, isn’t he – he’ll be thrilled to bits when he hears what’s been happening!’

‘We’ll send word for him to come up tomorrow,’ decided Mrs Philpot. ‘After all, Mr Henning has his adviser – that surly Mr Durleston. We’ll have Mr Finniston for ours. Great-Grandad would be pleased about that – they’re great friends, those two.’

There was, however, no need to send for Mr Finniston, for Great-Grandad had himself gone down straight away to tell the great news to his old crony. What a talk they had together!

‘Gold coins – jewellery – suits of armour – swords – and goodness knows what else!’ said Great-Grandad for the twentieth time, and old Mr Finniston listened gravely, nodding his head. ‘That splendid big sword!’ went on Grandad, remembering. ‘Just right for me, William! Look, if ever I’ve lived before, that old sword once belonged to me! I feel it! That’s one thing I won’t sell, mind! I’ll keep it just for the sake of swinging it round my head, when I lose my temper!’

‘Yes, yes – but I hope you’ll be sure to stand in the middle of an empty room if you do that,’ said Mr Finniston, a little alarmed at the fierce look in the old man’s eye. ‘You won’t be allowed to keep all the gold, I’m afraid – there’s such a thing as treasure trove, you know – some finds go to the Crown, and I fear that will be one of them. And the jewellery too perhaps. But you’ll get the value back; and the suits of armour and the swords – you’ll be able to make a mint of money on those!’

‘Enough for two new tractors?’ said Great-Grandad. ‘Enough for a new Land Rover? That one my grandson has, it jolts every bone in my body! Look now, William – we’ve got to get men digging on that site – uncovering all those cellars. What say we keep on the men that fellow Henning’s got? We shan’t let him excavicate, or whatever it’s called, any more. HA! That fellow gets under my skin, and sets me itching all over. Now I can scratch him out! And see here, William, you’ll shut up this shop of yours and be my adviser, won’t you? I won’t have that American talking me down – or that fellow Durleston!’

‘You’d better stop talking for a bit, Grandad, you’re getting too red in the face,’ said Mr Finniston. ‘You’ll go pop if you excite yourself much more! Go home now, and I’ll be up tomorrow morning. I’ll arrange about the workmen too. And don’t you play about with that old sword too much – you might cut off somebody’s head by mistake!’

‘So I might, so I might,’ said Great-Grandad, with a sly look in his eye. ‘Now, if that Junior got in the way when I was swinging my sword . . . it’s all right, William, it’s all right! Just my joke, you know, just my joke!’

And chuckling deep down in his long beard, Great-Grandad strode off, turned up the little lane, and walked back to the farmhouse, feeling very pleased indeed with life!

Mr Henning, Mr Durleston and Junior did not come back that night. Apparently they were all so excited over the excavations they had made in the drilling down through the cellar roof, that they stayed too long at the hotel and decided to spend the night there, much to Mrs Philpot’s relief.

‘Most farm people like to go to bed about nine o’clock,’ said Mr Henning, ‘and it’s already gone that now. We’ll go over tomorrow morning and we’ll get them to sign that agreement you’ve drawn up, Durleston. They’re so short of money they’d sign anything. And mind you cry down what we think we’ve found, so that they won’t expect any more than £250. We’re going to make our fortunes over this!’

So, next morning, the two men, with an excited Junior whom Mr Durleston found most annoying, arrived at the farmhouse at about ten o’clock. They had telephoned to say they would be there then, and would bring the agreement with them, ‘. . . and the cheque, Mrs Philpot, the cheque!’ purred Mr Henning down the phone.

When they arrived there was quite a company there to greet them! There was old Great-Grandad, his grandson Mr Philpot and his wife, the twins, of course, and old Mr Finniston, sniffing a fight, his dull eyes bright this morning for the first time in years! He sat at the back, wondering what was going to happen.

All the Five were there too, Timmy wondering what the excitement was. He kept as close to George as he could, and growled at Snippet every time the excited little poodle came near. Snippet didn’t mind! He could always growl back!

A car purred up the drive, and in came Mr Henning, Mr Durleston and Junior, whose face was one big grin.

‘Hallo, folks!’ said Junior, in his usual jaunty manner. ‘How’s tricks?’

Nobody answered except Timmy, and he gave a small growl, which made Junior skip out of the way quickly. ‘You shut up,’ he said to Timmy.

‘Did you have your breakfast in bed at the hotel, little boy?’ said George suddenly. ‘Do you remember the last time you had it in bed here, and Timmy pulled . . .’

‘Aw shucks!’ said Junior, sulkily. ‘Skip it, sister!’ He subsided after that, and sat down by his father. Then began a short, sharp and satisfactory meeting – from Mr Philpot’s point of view!

‘Er – Mr Philpot – it’s my very great pleasure to say that I have been advised by Mr Durleston to offer you a further cheque for £250,’ said Mr Henning smoothly. ‘While we are rather disappointed in what appears to be in the cellars of the castle, we feel it would only be fair to offer you the sum we suggested before. Is that right, Mr Durleston?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Mr Durleston in a business-like voice, and glared round through his horn-rimmed glasses. ‘I’ve the agreement here. Mr Henning is being very generous. Very. The cellars are most disappointing.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Mr Philpot. ‘I hold a different opinion – and my adviser, Mr Finniston, upholds me in this. We are going to excavate the site ourselves, Mr Henning – and then, if any disappointment lies in wait, we shall be the ones to suffer, not you.’

‘What’s all this?’ said Mr Henning, glaring round. ‘Durleston, what do you say to that? Bit of double-crossing, isn’t it?’

‘Offer him £500,’ said Mr Durleston, looking startled at this unexpected set-back.

‘You can offer me five thousand if you like, but I tell you, I prefer to do the excavation myself on my own land,’ said Mr Philpot. ‘What is more, I will return the cheque you gave me yesterday – and as I intend to keep on the men you engaged, I will pay them myself for their work. So do not trouble to dismiss them. They will now be working for me.’

‘But this is MONSTROUS!’ shouted Mr Henning, losing his temper, and jumping to his feet. He banged on the table, and glared at Mr and Mrs Philpot. ‘What do you expect to find in those derelict old cellars? We drilled right through yesterday, and there’s practically nothing there! I made you a very generous offer. I’ll raise it to £10,000!’

‘No,’ said Mr Philpot, quietly. But Great-Grandad had had enough of Mr Henning’s shouting and raging. He stood up too, and bellowed so loudly that everyone jumped, and Timmy began to bark. Snippet at once fled to the kitchen cupboard and hid there.

‘HA! NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME!’ bellowed Great-Grandad. ‘This farm belongs to ME, and my GRANDSON, and it’ll go to my GREAT-GRANDSON, sitting yonder. A finer farm there never was, and my family’s had it for hundreds of years – and sad it’s been for me to see it go downhill for lack of money! But now I see money, much money – down in those cellars! HA! All the money we want for tractors and bailers and combines and the Lord knows what! We don’t want your money. No, SIR! You keep your dollars, you keep them. Offer me a five thousand if you like, and see what I’ll say!’

Mr Henning turned swiftly and looked at Mr Durleston, who at once nodded. ‘Right!’ said the American to Great-Grandad. ‘Five thousand! Done?’

‘NO!’ bawled Great-Grandad, enjoying himself more than he had done for years. ‘There’s gold down in those cellars – jewels – suits of armour – swords, daggers, knives – all of them centuries old . . . and . . .’

‘Don’t hand me stories like that,’ said Mr Henning, sneeringly. ‘You old liar!’

Great-Grandad banged his clenched fist down on the table and made everyone almost fall off their chairs. ‘TWINS!’ he roared. ‘Fetch those things you got yesterday – go on, fetch them here. I’ll show this American I’m no liar!’

And then, before the astounded eyes of Mr Henning and Mr Durleston, and of Junior, too, the twins laid the gold coins, the jewellery, and the swords and knives on the table. Mr Durleston stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

‘Well – what do you say to that?’ demanded Great-Grandad, banging on the table again.

Mr Durleston sat back and said one word. ‘Junk!’

Then it was old Mr Finniston’s turn to stand up and say a few words! Mr Durleston, who hadn’t noticed the quiet old man sitting at the back, was horrified to see him there. He knew he was learned and knowledgeable, for he himself had tried to pick his brains about the old castle site.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Mr Finniston, just as if he were addressing a well-conducted meeting, ‘I regret to say that, speaking as well-known antiquarian, I do not consider that Mr Durleston knows what he is talking about if he calls these articles junk! The things on the table are worth a small fortune to any genuine collector. I could myself sell them in London tomorrow, for far more than any sum Mr Durleston has advised Mr Henning to offer. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!’

And he sat down, bowing courteously to the assembled company. Anne felt as if she wanted to clap him!

‘Well, I don’t think there’s any more to say,’ said Mr Philpot, getting up. ‘If you’ll tell me what hotel you’ll be staying at, Mr Henning, I’ll have your things sent there. You will certainly not wish to stay here any longer!’

‘Pop, I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay here!’ howled Junior, most surprisingly. ‘I wanna see the cellars exca-exculpated! I wanna dig down! I wanna STAY!’

‘Well, we don’t want you!’ said Harry, fiercely. ‘You and your peeping and prying and listening and boasting and tale-bearing. Cissy-boy! Breakfast in bed! Can’t clean his shoes! Howls when he can’t get his own way! Screams when . . .’

‘That’s enough, Harry,’ said his mother sternly, looking quite shocked. ‘I don’t mind Junior staying on if he’ll behave himself. It’s not his fault that all this has happened.’

‘I wanna stay!’ wept Junior, and kicked out peevishly under the table. He unfortunately caught Timmy on the nose, and the dog rose in anger, growling and showing his teeth. Junior fled for his life.

‘Do you wanna stay now?’ shouted George, as he went, and the answer came back at once.

‘NO!’

‘Well, thanks, Timmy, for helping him to make up his mind,’ said George, and patted the big dog.

Mr Henning looked as if he were about to burst. ‘If that dog bites my boy, I’ll have him put to sleep,’ he said. ‘I’ll sue you, I’ll . . .’

‘Please go,’ said Mrs Philpot, suddenly looking tired out. ‘I have a lot of baking to do.’

‘I shall take my time,’ said Mr Henning, pompously. ‘I will not be turned out suddenly, as if I hadn’t paid my bills.’

‘Seen this sword, Henning?’ said old Great-Grandad, suddenly, and snatched from the table the big sword that he so much liked. ‘Beauty, isn’t it? The men of old knew how to deal with their enemies, didn’t they? They swung at them like this – and like THAT – and . . .’

‘Here, stop! You’re dangerous! That sword nearly cut me!’ cried Mr Henning, in a sudden panic. ‘WILL you put it down?’

‘No. It’s mine. I’m not selling this,’ said Great-Grandad, swinging the sword again. It hit the light-bulb above his head, and the glass fell with a clatter. Mr Durleston deserted Mr Henning and fled out of the kitchen at top speed, colliding violently with Bill, who was just coming in.

‘Look out – he’s mad – that old man’s mad!’ shouted Mr Durleston. ‘Henning, come along before he cuts off your head!’

Mr Henning fled too. Great-Grandad pursued him to the door, breathing blood and thunder, and the two dogs barked in delight. Everyone began to laugh helplessly.

‘Grandad – what’s got into you?’ said Mr Philpot, as the old fellow swung the sword again, his eyes bright, a broad grin on his wrinkled old face.

‘Nothing! I just thought that only this sword would get rid of those fellows. Do you know what I call them? JUNK! Ha – wish I’d thought of that when they were here! JUNK! William Finniston, did you hear that?’

‘Now you put that sword down before you damage it,’ said Mr Finniston, who knew how to manage Great-Grandad, ‘and you and I will go down to the old inn and talk over what we’re going to do about all this treasure trove. You just put that sword down first – NO, Grandad, I am NOT going to take you into the inn carrying that sword!’

Mrs Philpot heaved a sigh of relief when the two old fellows went off down the lane, leaving the sword safely behind. She sat down, and, to the children’s horror, began to cry!

‘Now, now – don’t take any notice of me!’ she said, when the twins ran to her in dismay. ‘I’m crying for joy – to have got rid of them – and to know I’ve not got to pinch and scrape any more – or to take in visitors. To think that your dad can buy the farm machinery he wants – and . . . oh dear, what a baby I am, acting like this!’

‘I say, Mrs Philpot – would you like us to leave too?’ asked Anne, suddenly realising that she and the others were ranked as ‘visitors’, and must have been an added burden for poor Mrs Philpot.

‘Oh no, my dear, no – you’re not really visitors, you’re friends!’ said Mrs Philpot, smiling through her tears. ‘And what’s more I shan’t charge your mothers a single penny for having you here – see what good fortune you’ve brought us!’

‘All right – we’ll stay. We’d love to,’ said Anne. ‘We wouldn’t miss seeing what else is down in those castle cellars for anything. Would we, George?’

‘Gosh, no!’ said George. ‘We want to be in on everything. This is just about the most exciting adventure we’ve ever had!’

‘We always say that!’ said Anne. ‘But the nice part about this one is – it isn’t finished yet! We’ll be able to go and watch the workmen and their drills. We’ll be able to help in moving all the exciting old things out of their hiding-places – we’ll hear what prices you get for them – and see the new tractor! Honestly, I really do believe the second part of this adventure will be better than the first! Don’t you think so, Timmy?’

‘WOOF!’ said Timmy, and wagged his tail so hard that he knocked Snippet right over.

Well, goodbye, Five! Enjoy the rest of your adventures, and have a good time – and do make sure that Grandad is careful with that great old sword!

is one of the most popular children’s authors of all time. Her books have sold over 500 million copies and have been translated into other languages more often than any other children’s author.

Enid Blyton adored writing for children. She wrote over 700 books and about 2,000 short stories. The Famous Five books, now 75 years old, are her most popular. She is also the author of other favourites including The Secret Seven, The Magic Faraway Tree, Malory Towers and Noddy.

Born in London in 1897, Enid lived much of her life in Buckinghamshire and loved dogs, gardening and the countryside. She was very knowledgeable about trees, flowers, birds and animals. Dorset – where some of the Famous Five’s adventures are set – was a favourite place of hers too.

Enid Blyton’s stories are read and loved by millions of children (and grown-ups) all over the world. Visit enidblyton.co.uk to discover more.

HODDER CHILDREN’S BOOKS

Five Go to Billycock Hill first published in Great Britain in 1957 by Hodder & Stoughton
Five Get Into a Fix first published in Great Britain in 1958 by Hodder & Stoughton
Five on Finniston Farm first published in Great Britain in 1960 by Hodder & Stoughton This edition published in 2021

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