Five Go To Mystery Moor
Chapter
One
AT
THE STABLES
‘We’ve
been here a week and I’ve been bored every single minute!’ said George.
‘You
haven’t,’ said Anne.  ‘I
ought to know, oughtn’t I? That awful girl Henrietta too. Why do we have to put
up with her?’
‘Oh
- Henry!’ said Anne, with a laugh. ‘I should have thought you’d find a lot in
common with another girl like yourself, who would rather be a boy, and tries to
act like one!’
The
two girls were lying by a haystack eating sandwiches. Round them in a field
were many horses, most of which the girls either rode or looked after.  It had been Anne’s idea. She was fond
of horses, and had heard so much from her friends at school what fun it was to
spend day after day at the stables, that she had made up her mind to go
herself.
George
hadn’t wanted to come.  Gone to camp! George would have
liked that, but girls were not allowed to go camping with the boys from
Julian’s school, of course. It was a camp just for the boys alone.
‘You’re
silly to keep feeling cross because you couldn’t go camping too,’ said Anne.
‘The boys don’t want us girls round them all the time. We couldn’t do the
things they do.’
George
thought differently. ‘I can do anything that Dick and Julian do,’ she said. ‘I
can climb, and bike for miles, can walk as far as they can, I can swim, I can
beat a whole lot of boys at most things.’
‘That’s
what Henry says!’ said Anne, with a laugh. ‘Look, there she is, striding about
as usual, hands in her
George
scowled. Anne had been very much amused to see how Henrietta and George hated
one another at sight - and yet both had so very much the same ideas. George’s
real name was
She
was about as old as George, and her hair was short too, but it wasn’t curly.
‘It’s a pity yours is curly,’ she said to George, pityingly. ‘It looks so
girlish, doesn’t it?’
‘Don’t
be an ass,’ George said, curtly. ‘Plenty of boys have curly hair.’
The
maddening part was that Henrietta was a wonderful rider, and had won all kinds
of cups. George hadn’t enjoyed herself a bit during that week at the stables,
because for once in a way another girl had outshone her. She couldn’t bear to
see Henrietta striding about, whistling, doing everything so competently and
quickly.
Anne
had had many a quiet laugh to herself, especially when the two girls had each
made up their minds not to call one another Henry and George, but to use their
full names, Henrietta and
‘What
are you behaving like this for?’ he demanded one morning, seeing their sulky
looks at one another at breakfast-time.
That
made Anne laugh!  My goodness, how annoyed both
girls were with Captain Johnson. Anne was a bit scared of him. He was
hot-tempered, out-spoken, and stood no nonsense at all, but he was a wonder
with the horses, and loved a good, hearty laugh. He and his wife took either
boys or girls for the holidays, and worked them hard, but the children always
enjoyed their stay immensely.
‘If
it hadn’t been for Henry, you’d have been perfectly happy this week,’ said
Anne, leaning back against the haystack. ‘We’ve had heavenly April weather, the
horses are lovely, and I like Captain and Mrs Johnson very much.’
‘I
wish the boys were here,’ said George. ‘They would soon put that silly
Henrietta in her place. I wish I’d stayed at home now.’
‘Well,
you had the choice,’ said Anne, rather cross. ‘You could have stayed at Kirrin
Cottage with your father and mother, but you chose to come here with me, till
the boys came back from camp. You shouldn’t make such a fuss if things aren’t
exactly to your liking. It spoils things for me.’
‘Sorry,’
said George. ‘I’m being a pig, I know, but I do miss the boys. We can only be
with them in the hols and it seems funny without them. There’s just one thing
that pleases me here you’ll be glad to know...’
‘You
needn’t tell me, I know what it is!’ said Anne, with a laugh. ‘You’re glad that
Timmy won’t have anything to do with Henry!’
‘With
Henrietta,’ corrected George. She grinned suddenly. ‘Yes, old Timmy’s got some
sense. He just can’t stick her. Here, Timmy boy, leave those rabbit-holes alone
and come and lie down for a bit. You’ve run for miles this morning when we took
the horses out, and you’ve snuffled down about a hundred rabbit-holes. Come and
be peaceful.’
Timmy
left his latest rabbit-hole reluctantly and came to flop down beside Anne and
George. He gave George a hearty lick and she patted him.
‘We’re
just saying, Timmy, how sensible you are not to make friends with that awful
Henrietta,’ said George. She stopped suddenly at a sharp nudge from Anne. A
shadow fell across them as someone came round the haystack.
It
was Henrietta. By the annoyed look on her face it was clear that she had heard
George’s remark. She held out an orange envelope to George.
‘A
telegram for you,
‘Oh,
thanks, Henrietta,’ said George, and took the telegram. She tore it open, read
it and groaned.
‘Look
at that!’ she said to Anne and passed it to her. ‘It’s from Mother.’
Anne
took the telegram and read it. ‘Please stay another week. Your father is not
well. Love from Mother.’
‘What
bad luck!’ said George, a familiar scowl on her face. ‘Just when I thought we’d
be going home in a day or two, and the boys would join us at Kirrin. Now we’ll
be stuck here by ourselves for ages! What’s the matter with Father?  ‘That’s if you don’t mind its being a bit
upside down because of the decorating we’re having done.’
‘No.
I know you want to stay here with the horses,’ said George. ‘Anyway your father
and mother are abroad, we’d only be in the way. Blow, blow, blow! Now we’ll
have to do without the boys for another week. They’ll stay on in camp, of
course.’
Captain
Johnson said yes, certainly the two girls could stay on. It was possible that
they might have to do a bit of camping out if one or two extra children came,
but they wouldn’t mind that, would they?
‘Not
a bit,’ said George. ‘Actually we’d rather like to be on our own, Anne and I.
We’ve got Timmy, you see. So long as we could come in to meals and do a few
jobs for you, we’d love to go off on our own.’
Anne
smiled to herself. What George really meant was that she wanted to see as
little of Henrietta as possible! Still, it would be fun to camp out if the
weather was fine. They could easily borrow a tent from Captain Johnson.
‘Bad
luck, Georgina!’ said Henry, who was listening to all this. ‘Very bad luck! I
know you’re terribly bored here.  It’s
a pity that you-’
‘Shut
up,’ said George, rudely and went out of the room. Captain Johnson glared at
Henrietta, who stood whistling at the window, hands in pockets.
‘You
two girls!’ he said. ‘Why don’t you behave yourselves? Always aping the boys,
pretending you’re so mannish! Give me Anne here, any day! What you want is your
ears boxing. Did you take that bale of straw to the stables?’
‘Yes,’
said Henrietta, without turning.
‘Yes,
sir,’ said Captain Johnson. ‘If you want to act like a boy, be one, and say
“sir” when you speak to me, if you can’t bother to remember I’ve got a name.
It’s...’
He
broke off as a small boy came running in. ‘Sir, there’s a gypsy kid outside
with a horse, a skewbald, a mangy looking thing. He says can you help him - the
horse has got something wrong with its leg.’
‘Those
gypsies again!’ said Captain Johnson. ‘All right, I’ll come.’
He
went out and Anne went with him, not wanting to be left alone with the angry
Henrietta.
‘What
have you done to your horse this time?’ said Captain Johnson, looking at its
leg. ‘You’ll have to leave it here, and I’ll see to it.’
‘Can’t
do that, sir,’ said the boy. ‘We’re off to Mystery Moor again.’
‘Well,
you’ll have to,’ said Captain Johnson. ‘It’s not fit to walk. Your caravan
can’t go with the others, this horse isn’t fit to pull it. I’ll get the police
to your father if you try to work this horse before it’s better.’
‘Don’t
do that!’ said the boy. ‘It’s just that my Dad says we’ve got to go on
tomorrow.’
‘What’s
the hurry?’ said Captain Johnson. ‘Can’t your caravan wait a day or two?
Mystery Moor will still be there in two days time! It beats me why you go
there, a desolate place like that, not even a farm or a cottage for miles!’
‘I’ll
leave the horse,’ said the boy, and stroked the skewbald’s nose.  ‘My father will be angry, but the other
caravans can go on without us. We’ll have to catch them up.’
He
gave a kind of half-salute to the captain and disappeared from the stable-yard,
a skinny little sunburnt figure. The skewbald stood patiently.
‘Take
it round to the small stable,’ said Captain Johnson to George and Anne. ‘I’ll
come and see to it in a minute.’
The
girls led the little horse away. ‘Mystery Moor!’ said George.  The boys would like that, they’d be exploring it at once, wouldn’t they?’
‘Yes.
I do wish they were coming here,’ said Anne. ‘Still, I expect they’ll like the
chance of staying on in camp.
 William, the boy
who had brought the message about the horse, yelled to them.
‘Hey,
George and Anne! There’s another telegram for you!’
The
two hurried into the house at once. ‘Oh, I hope Father is better and we can go
home and join the boys at Kirrin!’ said George. She tore open the envelope and
then gave a yell that made Anne jump.
‘Look,
see what it says. They’re coming here!’ Anne snatched the telegram and read it.
‘Joining
you tomorrow. We’ll camp out if no room. Hope you’ve got a nice juicy adventure
ready for us! Julian and Dick.’
‘They’re
coming! They’re coming!’ said Anne, as excited as George. ‘Now we’ll have some
fun!’
‘It’s
a pity we’ve no adventure to offer them,’ said George. ‘Still, you simply never
know!’
Chapter
Two
JULIAN,
DICK - AND HENRY
George
was quite a different person now that she knew her two cousins were coming the
next day. She was even polite to Henrietta!
Captain
Johnson scratched his head when he heard that the boys were arriving. ‘We can’t
have them in the house, except for meals,’ he said. ‘We’re full up. They can
either sleep in the stables or have a tent. I don’t care which.’
‘There
will be ten altogether then,’ said his wife. ‘Julian, Dick, Anne, George, Henry
- and John, Susan, Alice, Rita and William. Henry may have to camp out too.’
‘Not
with us,’ said George, at once.
‘I
think you’re rather unkind to Henry,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘After all, you and she
are very alike, George. You both think you ought to have been boys, and...’
‘I’m
not a bit like Henrietta!’ said George, indignantly. ‘You wait till my cousins
come, Mrs Johnson. They won’t think she’s like me. I don’t expect they’ll want
anything to do with her.’
‘Oh
well, you’ll just have to shake down together somehow, if you want to stay
here,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘Let me see, I’d better get some rugs out. The boys
will want them, whether they sleep in the stables or in a tent. Come and help
me to look for them, Anne.’
Anne,
George and Henry were a good bit older than the other five children staying at
the stables, but all of them, small or big, were excited to hear about the
coming of Julian and Dick. For one thing George and Anne had related so many of
the adventures they had had with them, that everyone was inclined to think of
them as heroes.
Henrietta
disappeared after tea that day and could not be found. ‘Wherever have you
been?’ demanded Mrs Johnson when she at last turned up.
‘Up
in my room,’ said Henrietta. ‘Cleaning my shoes and my jods, and mending my
riding-jacket. You keep telling me to, and now I’ve done it!’
‘Aha!
Preparing for the heroes!’ said Captain Johnson, and Henry immediately put on a
scowl very like the one George often wore.
‘Nothing
of the sort!’ she said. ‘I’ve been meaning to do it for a long time. If
Georgina’s cousins are anything like her I shan’t be very interested in them.’
‘But
you might like my brothers,’ said Anne, with a laugh. ‘If you don’t there’ll be
something wrong with you.’
‘Don’t
be silly,’ said Henrietta. ‘Georgina’s cousins and your brothers are the same
people!’
‘How
clever of you to work that out,’ said George. But she felt too happy to keep up
the silly bickering for long. She went out with Timmy, whistling softly.
‘They’re
coming tomorrow, Tim,’ she said. ‘Julian and Dick. We’ll all go off together,
like we always do, the five of us. You’ll like that, won’t you, Timmy?’
‘Woof,’
said Timmy approvingly and waved his plumy tail. He knew quite well what she
meant.
Next
morning George and Anne looked up the trains that arrived at the station two
miles away. ‘This is the one they’ll come by,’ said George, her finger on the
timetable. ‘It’s the only one this morning. It arrives at half past twelve.
We’ll go and meet them.’
‘Right,’
said Anne. ‘We’ll start at ten minutes to twelve - we’ll be in plenty of time
then. We can help them with their things. They won’t bring much.’
‘Take
the ponies up to Hawthorn Field, will you?’ called Captain Johnson. ‘Gan you
manage all four of them?’
‘Oh
yes,’ said Anne pleased. She loved the walk to Hawthorn Field, up a little
narrow lane set with celandines, violets and primroses, and the fresh green of
the budding hawthorn bushes. ‘Come on, George, let’s catch the ponies and take
them now. It’s a heavenly morning.’
They
set off with the four frisky ponies, Timmy at their heels. He was quite a help
with the horses at the stable, especially when any had to be caught.
No
sooner had they left the stables and gone on their way to Hawthorn Field than
the telephone rang. It was for Anne.
‘Oh,
I’m sorry, she’s not here,’ said Mrs Johnson, answering it. ‘Who is it
speaking? Oh, Julian her brother? Can I give her a message?’
‘Yes,
please,’ said Julian’s voice. ‘Tell her we are arriving at the bus-stop at
Milling Green at half past eleven, and is there a little hand-cart she and
George could bring, because we’ve got our tent with us and other odds and
ends?’
‘Oh,
we’ll send the little wagon,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘The one that always goes to
meet the train or the bus. I’ll get George to meet you with Anne, they can
drive it in. We’re pleased you are coming. The weather’s very good and you’ll
enjoy yourselves!’
‘Rather!’
said Julian. ‘Thanks awfully for putting us up. We won’t be any trouble, in
fact we’ll help all we can.’
Mrs
Johnson said good-bye and put down the receiver. She saw Henrietta passing
outside the window, looking much cleaner and tidier than usual. She called to
her.
‘Henry!
Where are George and Anne? Julian and Dick are arriving at the bus-stop at
Milling Green at eleven-thirty and I’ve said we’ll meet them in the little
wagon. Will you tell George and Anne? They can put Winkie into the cart and
trot him down to the bus-stop.’
‘Right,’
said Henry. Then she remembered that George and Anne had been sent up to
Hawthorn Field with the four ponies.
‘I
say, they won’t be back in time!’ she called. ‘Shall I take the wagon and meet
them?’
‘Yes,
do. That would be kind of you, Henry,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘You’d better hurry,
though. Time’s getting on. Where’s Winkie? In the big field?’
‘Yes,’
said Henry and hurried off to get him. Soon he was in the wagon shafts, and
Henry was in the driving-seat. She drove off smartly, grinning to herself to
think how cross George and Anne would be to find they had missed meeting the
two boys after all.
 They looked
hopefully at the wagon, thinking that perhaps one of the girls was driving into
meet them.
‘No
go,’ said Dick. ‘It’s somebody else, driving into the village. I wonder if the
girls got our message. I thought they would meet us at the bus-stop here. Well,
we’ll wait a few minutes more.’
They
had just sat down on the bus-stop seat again when the wagon stopped nearby.
Henry saluted them.
‘Are
you Anne’s brother?’ she called. ‘She didn’t get your telephone message, so
I’ve come with the wagon instead. Get in!’
‘Oh,
jolly nice of you,’ said Julian, dragging his things to the wagon. ‘Er - I’m
Julian - and this is Dick. What’s your name?’
‘Henry,’
said Henrietta, helping Julian with his things. She heaved them in valiantly,
then clicked to Winkie to stand still and not fidget. ‘I’m glad you’ve come.
There are rather a lot of small kids at the stables. We’ll be glad of you two!
I say, Timmy will be pleased to see you, won’t he?’
‘Good
old Tim,’ said Dick, heaving his things in. Henry gave them a shove too. She
wasn’t very fat but she was wiry and strong. She grinned round at the boys.
‘All set! Now we’ll get back to the stables. Or do you want to have an
ice-cream or anything before we start? Dinner’s not till one.’
‘No.
We’ll get on, I think,’ said Julian. Henry leapt into the driver’s seat, took
the reins and clicked to Winkie. The boys were behind in the wagon. Winkie set
off at a spanking pace.
 ‘Decent of him to
meet us.’
Julian
nodded. He was disappointed that Anne and George hadn’t come with Timmy, but it
was good to be met by someone! It wouldn’t have been very funny to walk the
long road to the farm carrying their packs by themselves.
They
arrived at the stables and Henry helped them down with their things. Mrs
Johnson heard them arriving and came to the door to welcome them.
‘Ah,
there you are. Come along in.  Leave the things there, Henry. If the
boys sleep in one of the stables, there’s no sense in bringing them into the
house. Now, are George and Anne still not back? What a pity!’
Henry
disappeared to put away the wagon. The boys went into the pleasant house and
sat down to lemonade and home-made biscuits. They had hardly taken a bite
before Anne came running in. ‘Henry told me you’d come! Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t
meet you! We thought you’d come by train!’
Timmy
came racing in, his tail waving madly. He leapt at the two boys, who were just
giving Anne a hug each. Then in came George, her face one big beam.
‘Julian!
Dick! I am so glad you’ve come! It’s been dull as ditch-water without you! Did
anyone meet you?’
‘Yes.
An awfully nice boy,’ said Dick. ‘Gave us quite a welcome and dragged our packs
into the wagon, and was very friendly. You never told us about him.’
‘Oh,
was that William?’ said Anne. ‘Well, he’s only little. We didn’t bother about
telling you of the juniors here.’
‘No,
he wasn’t little,’ said Dick. ‘He was quite big, very strong too. You didn’t
mention him at all.’
‘Well,
we told you about the other girl here,’ said George. ‘Henrietta, awful
creature! Thinks she’s like a boy and goes whistling about everywhere. She
makes us laugh! You’ll laugh too.’
A
sudden thought struck Anne. ‘Did the - er - boy who met you, tell you his
name?’ she asked.
‘Yes,
what was it now, Henry,’ said Dick. ‘Nice chap. I’m going to like him.’
George
stared as if she couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Henry! Did she meet you?’
‘No
- not she - he,’ corrected Julian.  ‘The awful
girl I told you about, who tries to act like a boy, and whistles and strides
about all over the place. Don’t tell me she took you in!  ‘Well, I never! It never occurred
to me that he was a girl. Jolly good show she put up. I must say I liked him -
her, I mean.’
‘Oh!’
said George really furious. ‘The beast! She goes and meets you and never says a
word to us, and makes you think she’s a boy - and - and - spoils everything!’
‘Hold
your horses, George, old thing,’ said Julian, surprised. ‘After all, you’ve
often been pleased when people take you for a boy, though goodness knows why. I
thought you’d grown out of it a bit. Don’t blame us for thinking Henry was a
boy, and liking him - her, I mean.’
George
stamped out of the room. Julian scratched his head and looked at Dick. ‘Now
we’ve put our foot in it,’ he said.  I should have
thought she’d have liked someone like Henry, who had exactly the same ideas as
she has. Well, she’ll get over it, I suppose.’
‘It’s
going to be a bit awkward,’ said Anne, soberly.
She
was right. It was going to be very awkward!
Chapter
Three
SNIFFER
As
soon as George had gone out of the room, a scowl on her face, Henry walked in,
hands in jodhpur pockets.
‘Hallo!’
said Dick, at once. ‘Henrietta!’
Henry
grinned. ‘Oh, so they’ve told you, have they? I was tickled pink when you took
me for a boy.’
‘You’ve
even got your riding jacket buttons buttoning up the wrong way,’ said Anne,
noticing for the first time. ‘You really are a fathead, Henry.
‘Only
because of your hair,’ said Dick. ‘It’s straight.’
‘Don’t
say that in front of George,’ said Anne. ‘She’ll immediately have hers cut like
a convict or something, all shaven and shorn.’
‘Well,
anyway, it was jolly decent of Henry to come and meet us and lug our things
about,’ said Julian. ‘Have a biscuit, anyone?’
‘No
thanks,’ said Anne and Henry.
‘Are
we supposed to leave any for politeness sake?’ said Dick, eyeing the plate.
‘They’re home-made and quite super. I could wolf the lot.’
‘We
aren’t frightfully polite here,’ said Henry, with a grin. ‘We aren’t
frightfully clean and tidy, either. We have to change out of our jods at night
for supper, which is an awful nuisance, especially as Captain Johnson never
bothers to change his.’
‘Any
news?’ asked Julian, drinking the last of the lemonade. ‘Anything exciting
happened?’
‘No,
nothing,’ said Anne. ‘The only excitement is the horses, nothing more. This is
quite a lonely place, really, and the only exciting thing we’ve heard is the
name of the big, desolate moor that stretches from here to the coast. Mystery
Moor it’s called.’
‘Why?’
asked Dick. ‘Some long-ago mystery gave it that name, I suppose?’
‘I
don’t know,’ said Anne. ‘I think only gypsies go there now.  Why they wanted to go to such a deserted stretch of land I don’t know -
no farms there, not even a cottage.’
‘Gypsies
have peculiar ideas sometimes,’ said Henry. ‘I must say I like the way they
leave messages for any gypsy following - patrins, they’re called.’
‘Patrins?
Yes, I’ve heard of those,’ said Dick. ‘Sticks and leaves arranged in certain patterns,
or something, aren’t they?’
‘Yes,’
said Henry. ‘I know our gardener at home showed me an arrangement of sticks
outside our back gate once, which he said was a message to any gypsy following.
He told me what it meant, too!’
‘What
did it mean?’ asked Julian.
‘It
meant “Don’t beg here. Mean people. No good!” ’ said Henry, with a laugh.
‘That’s what he said, anyway!’
‘We
might ask the little gypsy boy who came with the skewbald horse,’ said Anne.
‘He’ll probably show us some messages. I’d like to learn some. You never know
when anything like that could come in useful!’
‘Yes.
And we’ll ask him why the gypsies go to Mystery Moor,’ said Julian, getting up
and dusting the crumbs off his coat. ‘They don’t go there for nothing, you may
be sure!’
‘Where’s
old George gone?’ asked Dick. ‘I do hope she’s not going to be silly.’
George
was in one of the stables, grooming a horse so vigorously that it was most
surprised. Swish-swish-swish-swish! What a brushing! George was working her
intense annoyance out of herself. She mustn’t spoil things for the boys and
Anne! But oh, that horrible Henrietta, meeting them like that, pretending to be
a boy.  But surely they
might have guessed!
‘Oh,
there you are, George, old thing,’ said Dick’s voice at the stable-door. ‘Let
me help. Gosh, aren’t you brown! Just as many freckles as ever!’
George
grinned unwillingly.   Do you and
Ju want to go riding at all? There are plenty of horses to choose from here.’
Dick
was relieved to see that George appeared to have got over her rage. ‘Yes. It
might be fun to go off for the day. What about tomorrow? We might explore a
little of Mystery Moor.’
‘Right,’
said George. She began to heave some straw about. ‘But not with That Girl,’ she
announced, from behind the straw she was carrying.
‘What
girl?’ asked Dick, innocently. ‘Oh, Henry, you mean? I keep thinking of her as
a boy. No, we won’t have her with us. We’ll be just the five as usual.’
‘That’s
all right then,’ said George happily. ‘Oh, here’s Julian. Give a hand, Ju!’
It
was lovely to have the two boys again, joking, laughing, teasing. They all went
out in the fields that afternoon and heard the tales of the camp. It was just
like old times, and Timmy was as pleased as anyone else. He went first to one
of the four, then to another, licking each one as he went, his tail wagging
vigorously.

Somebody
squeezed through the hedge behind them. George stiffened, feeling sure that it
was Henrietta. Timmy barked sharply.
It
wasn’t Henrietta. It was the little gypsy boy. He came up to them. There were
pale streaks down his dirty little face, made by tears that had run through the
dirt!
‘I’ve
come for the horse,’ he said. ‘Do you know where he is?’
‘He’s
not ready for walking yet,’ said George.  What’s the matter? Why have you been crying?’
‘My
father hit me,’ said the boy. ‘He cuffed me and knocked me right over.’
‘Whatever
for?’ asked Anne.
‘Because
I left the horse,’ said the boy. ‘My father said all it wanted was a bit of
ointment and a bandage. He has to start off with the other caravans today, you
see.’
‘Well,
you really can’t have the horse yet,’ said Anne. ‘It isn’t fit to walk, let alone
drag a caravan. You don’t want Captain Johnson to tell the police you’re
working it when it’s not fit, do you? You know he means what he says?’
‘Yes.
But I must have the horse,’ said the small gypsy. ‘I daren’t go back without
it.
 He sniffed.
‘Get
your hanky,’ said Dick. ‘Don’t you ever wash your face?’
‘No,’
said the boy, looking quite surprised. ‘Let me have my horse.  He began to cry again.
The
children felt sorry for him. He was such a thin, skinny misery of a boy, and
goodness, how he sniffled all the time!
‘What’s
your name?’ asked Anne.
‘Sniffer,’
said the boy. ‘That’s what my father calls me.’
It
was certainly a good name for him; but what a horrid father he must have!
Haven’t
you got a proper name?’ asked Anne.
‘Yes.
But I’ve forgotten it,’ said Sniffer. ‘Let me have my horse. I tell you, my
father’s waiting.’
Julian
got up. ‘I’ll come and see your father and put some sense into him. Where is
he?’
‘Over
yonder,’ said Sniffer with a big sniff, and he pointed over the hedge. ‘I’ll
come too,’ said Dick. In the end everyone got up and went with Sniffer. They
walked through the gate and saw a dark-faced, surly-looking man standing
motionless not far off. His thick, oily hair was curly, and he wore enormous
gold rings hanging from his ears. He looked up as the little company came near.
‘Your
horse isn’t fit to walk yet,’ said Julian. ‘You can have it tomorrow or the
next day, the Captain says.’
‘I’ll
have it now,’ said the man, in a surly tone. ‘We’re starting off tonight or
tomorrow over the moor. I can’t wait.’
‘But
what’s the hurry?’ said Julian. ‘The moor will wait for you!’
The
man scowled and shifted from one foot to another. ‘Can’t you stay for another
night or two and then go after the others?’ said Dick.
‘Listen,
Father! You go with the other caravans,’ said Sniffer, eagerly. ‘Go in Moses’
caravan and leave ours here. I can put our horse into the shafts tomorrow, or
maybe the next day, and follow after!’
‘But
how would you know the way?’ said George.
Sniffer
made a scornful movement with his hand. ‘Easy! They’ll leave me patrins to
follow,’ he said.
‘Oh
yes,’ said Dick, remembering. He turned to the silent gypsy fellow. ‘Well, what
about it? It seems that Sniffer here has quite a good idea, and you most
certainly can’t have the horse today anyway.’
The
man turned and said something angry and scornful to poor Sniffer, who shrank
away from the words as if they were blows. The four children couldn’t
understand a word, for it was all poured out in some gypsy talk that they could
not follow. Then the man turned on his heel and without so much as a look at
them, slouched away, his ear-rings gleaming as he went.
‘What
did he say?’ asked Julian.
Sniffer
gave one of his continual sniffs. ‘He was very angry. He said he’d go with the
others, and I could come on with Clip the horse, and drive our caravan,’ he
said. ‘I’ll be all right there tonight with Liz.’
‘Who’s
Liz?’ asked Anne, hoping that it was someone who would be kind to this poor
little wretch.
‘My
dog,’ said Sniffer, smiling for the first time. ‘I left her behind because she
sometimes goes for hens, and Captain Johnson, he doesn’t like that.’
‘I
bet he doesn’t,’ said Julian. ‘All right, that’s settled then. You can come for
Clip, or Clop, or whatever your horse is called, tomorrow, and we’ll see if
it’s fit to walk.’
‘I’m
glad,’ said Sniffer, rubbing his nose. ‘I don’t want Clip to go lame, see? But
my father, he’s fierce, he is.’
‘So
we gather,’ said Julian, looking at a bruise on Sniffer’s face. ‘You come
tomorrow and you can show us some of the patrins, the messages, that you
gypsies use. We’d like to know some.’
‘I’ll
come,’ promised Sniffer, nodding his head vigorously. ‘And you will come to see
my caravan? I shall be all alone there, except for Liz.’
‘Well,
I suppose it would be something to do,’ said Dick. ‘Yes, we’ll come. I hope
it’s not too smelly.’
‘Smelly?’
said Sniffer, surprised. ‘I don’t know. I will show you patrins there and Liz
will show you her tricks. She is very very clever. Once she belonged to a
circus.’
‘We
must certainly take Timmy to see this clever dog,’ said Anne, patting Timmy,
who had been hunting for rabbits and had only just come back. ‘Timmy, would you
like to go and visit a very clever dog called Liz?’
‘Woof,’
said Timmy, wagging his tail politely.
‘Right,’
said Dick. ‘I’m glad you approve, Tim. We’ll all try and come tomorrow,
Sniffer, after you’ve been to see how Clip is getting on. I don’t somehow think
you’ll be able to have him then, though. We’ll see!’
Chapter
Four
A
BED IN THE STABLE
The
boys slept in one of the stables that night. Captain Johnson said they could
either have mattresses sent out, or could sleep in the straw, with rugs.
‘Oh,
straw and rugs, please,’ said Julian. ‘That’s fine. We’ll be as snug as
anything with those.’
‘I
wish Anne and I could sleep in a stable too,’ said George, longingly. ‘We never
have. Can’t we, Captain Johnson?’
‘No.
You’ve got beds that you’re paying for,’ said the Captain. ‘Anyway, girls can’t
do that sort of thing, not even girls who try to be boys, George!’
‘I’ve
often slept in a stable,’ said Henrietta. ‘At home when we’ve too many
visitors, I always turn out and sleep in the straw.’
‘Bad
luck on the horses!’ said George.
‘Why?’
demanded Henry at once.
‘Because
you must keep them awake all night with your snoring!’ said George.
Henry
snorted crossly and went out. It was maddening that she should snore at night,
but she simply couldn’t help it.
‘Never
mind!’ George called after her. ‘It’s a nice manly snore, Henrietta!’
‘Shut
up, George,’ said Dick, rather shocked at this sudden display of pettiness on
George’s part.
 ‘Tell Henrietta!’
‘George,
don’t be an ass,’ said Julian. But George didn’t like that either, and stalked
out of the room in just the same stiff, offended way that Henry had done!
‘Oh
dear!’ said Anne. ‘It’s been like this all the time. First Henry, then George,
then George, then Henry! They really are a couple of idiots!’
She
went to see where the boys were to sleep. They had been told to use a small
stable, empty except for the gypsy’s horse that lay patiently down, its
bandaged leg stretched out on the floor. Anne patted it and stroked it.
The
boys had heaps of straw to burrow into, and some old rugs. Anne thought it all
looked lovely. ‘You can wash and everything at the house,’ she said. ‘Then just
slip over here to sleep. Doesn’t it smell nice? All straw and hay and horse! I
hope that gypsy’s horse won’t disturb you. He may be a bit restless if his leg
hurts him.’
‘Nothing
will disturb us tonight!’ said Julian. ‘What with camp-life and open-air and
wind-on-the-hills and all that kind of thing, we’re sure to sleep like logs. I
think we’re going to enjoy it here, Anne, very quiet and peaceful!’
George
looked in at the door. ‘I’ll lend you Timmy, if you like,’ she said, anxious to
make up for her display of temper.
‘Oh,
hallo, George! No thanks. I don’t particularly want old Tim climbing over me
all night long, trying to find the softest part of me to sleep on!’ said
Julian. ‘I say, look, he’s showing me how to make a good old burrow to sleep
in! Hey, Tim, come out of my straw!’
Timmy
had flung himself into the straw and was turning vigorously round and round in it
as if he were making a bed for himself. He stood and looked up at them, his
mouth open and his tongue hanging out at one side.
‘He’s
laughing,’ said Anne, and it did indeed look as if Timmy was having a good old
laugh at them. Anne gave him a hug and he licked her lavishly, and then began
to burrow round and round in the straw again.
Someone
came up, whistling loudly, and put her head in at the door. ‘I’ve brought you a
couple of old pillows. Mrs Johnson said you’d better have something for your
heads.’
‘Oh
thanks awfully, Henry,’ said Julian, taking them.
‘How
kind of you, Henrietta,’ said George.
‘It’s
a pleasure, Georgina,’ said Henry, and the boys burst out laughing. Fortunately
the supper-bell went just then and they all went across the yard at once.
Somehow everyone was always hungry at the stables!
The
girls looked very different in the evening, because they had to change out of
their dirty, smelly jodhpurs or breeches and put on dresses. Anne, Henry and
George hurried to change before Mrs Johnson rang the supperbell again. She
always gave them ten minutes’ grace, knowing that they might sometimes have a
job to finish with the horses, but everyone was supposed to be at the table
when the second supper-bell had finished ringing.
George
looked nice, because her curly hair went with a skirt and blouse quite well,
but Henry looked quite wrong, somehow, in her frilly dress.
‘You
look like a boy dressed up!’ said Anne, and this pleased Henry, but not George.
The talk at the suppertable was mainly about all the wonderful things that
Henry had done in her life. Apparently she had three brothers and did
everything with them, and according to her own tales, she was considerably
better than they were!
They
had sailed a ship up to Norway. They had hiked from London to York.
‘Was
Dick Turpin with you?’ inquired George, sarcastically. ‘On his horse, Black
Bess? I expect you got there long before him, didn’t you?’
Henry
took no notice. She went on with wonderful tales of her family’s exploits,
swimming across wide rivers, climbing Snowdon to the top, goodness, there
wasn’t a single thing she didn’t seem to have done!
‘You
certainly ought to have been a boy, Henry,’ said Mrs Johnson, which was exactly
what Henry wanted everyone to say!
‘Henry,
when you’ve told us the story of how you climbed Mount Everest and got there
before anyone else, perhaps you would finish your plateful,’ said Captain
Johnson, who got very tired of Henry’s tongue.
George
roared with laughter, not that she thought it was very funny, but because she
loved any chance to laugh at Henry. Henry tackled the rest of her food at top
speed. How she did love to hold everyone spellbound with her extraordinary
tales! George didn’t believe a word, but Dick and Julian thought it quite
likely that this tall, wiry girl could do things just as well as her brothers.
There
were a few jobs to be done after supper, and Henry kept well away from George,
knowing quite well that she would have a few cutting things to say. Well, she
didn’t care! Everyone else thought she was marvellous! She tore off her frilly
dress and put on jodhpurs again, although it would only be a short time before
they all went to bed.
George
and Anne went with the boys to their stable. They were in pyjamas and
dressing-gowns, both yawning as they went. ‘Got your torches?’ said George.
‘We’re not allowed to have candles in the stables, because of the straw, you
know. Good night! Sleep well! And I hope that that fathead of a Henry doesn’t
come along early in the morning, whistling like a paper-boy, and wake you up!’
‘Nothing
will wake me up tonight, nothing at all!’ said Julian, with a huge yawn. He lay
down in the straw and pulled an old rug over him. ‘Oh, what a bed! Give me
stable straw every time to sleep in!’
The
girls laughed. The boys really did look very comfortable. ‘Sleep tight,’ said
Anne, and walked off with George to the house.
Soon
all the lights were out everywhere. Henry was asleep and snoring as usual. She
had to have a separate room, otherwise she kept everyone awake! But even so,
Anne and George could hear her, snoring away - rrrumph - rrrumph! rrrumph -
RRRRUMPH!
‘Blow
Henrietta!’ said George, sleepily. ‘What a row she makes. Anne, she’s not to
come with us when we go riding tomorrow. Do you hear, Anne?’
‘Not
very well,’ murmured Anne, trying to open her eyes. ‘G’ night, George!’
Timmy
was on George’s feet as usual.  He got as tired as everyone else, running over the hills all day,
scrabbling at scores of rabbit-holes, chasing dozens of remarkably fleet-footed
rabbits. But at night he too slept like a log.
Out
in the stable the two boys slept peacefully, covered by the old rug. Nearby the
little skewbald horse moved restlessly, but they heard nothing. An owl came swooping
over the stable, looking for mice down below. It screeched loudly, hoping to
scare a mouse into sudden flight. Then it would swoop down and take it into its
talons.
Not
even the screech awakened the boys. They slept dreamlessly, tired out.
The
door of the stable was shut and latched. Clip, the horse, suddenly stirred and
looked round at the door. The latch was moving! Someone was lifting it from the
outside. Clip’s pricked ears heard the sound of a little shuffle.
He
watched the door. Who was coming? He hoped it was Sniffer, the boy he liked so
much. Sniffer was always kind to him. He didn’t like being away from Sniffer.
He listened for the sniff-sniff that always went with the little gypsy boy, but
he didn’t hear it.
The
door opened very slowly indeed. It gave no creak. Clip saw the night sky
outside, set with stars. He made out a figure outlined against the darkness of
the starry night, a black shadow.
Someone
came into the stable, and whispered ‘Clip!’
The
horse gave a little whinny. It wasn’t Sniffer’s voice. It was his father’s.
Clip did not like him, he was too free with cuffs and kicks, and slashes with
the whip. He lay still, wondering why the gypsy had come.
The
man had no idea that Dick and Julian were sleeping in the stable. He had come
in quietly because he had thought there might be other horses there, and he did
not want to startle them and make them stamp about in fright. He had no torch,
but his keen gypsy’s eyes made out Clip at once, lying in his straw.
He
tiptoed across to him and fell over Julian’s feet, sticking out from the straw
bed he was lying on. He fell with a thud, and Julian sat up very suddenly
indeed, awake at once.
‘Who’s
there! What is it?’
The
gypsy shrank down beside Clip, keeping silent. Julian began to wonder if he had
been dreaming. But his foot distinctly hurt him. Surely somebody had trodden on
it, or fallen over it? He woke Dick.
‘Where’s
the torch? Hello, look, the stable door is open! Quick, Dick, where on earth is
the torch?’
They
found it at last and Julian clicked it on. At first he saw nothing, for the
gypsy was in Clip’s stall, lying down behind the horse. Then the torch picked
him out.
‘Hallo!
Look there - it’s that gypsy, Sniffer’s father!’ said Julian. ‘Get up, you!
What on earth are you doing here, in the middle of the night?’
Chapter
Five
GEORGE
GETS A HEADACHE!
The
man got up sullenly. His ear-rings shone in the light of the torch. ‘I came to
get Clip,’ he said. ‘He’s my horse, isn’t he?’
‘You
were told he wasn’t fit to walk yet,’ said Julian. ‘Do you want him to go lame
for life? You ought to know enough about horses to know when one can be worked
or not!’
‘I’ve
got my orders,’ said the man. ‘I’ve got to take my caravan with the others.’
‘Who
said so?’ said Dick, scornfully.
‘Barney
Boswell,’ said the man. ‘He’s boss of our lot here. We’ve got to start off
together tomorrow.’
‘But
why?’ said Julian, puzzled. ‘What’s so urgent about all this? What’s the
mystery?’
‘There
ain’t no mystery,’ said the man, still sullen. ‘We’re just going to the moor.’
‘What
are you going to do there?’ asked Dick, curiously. ‘It doesn’t seem to me to be
the place to take a lot of caravans to. There’s nothing there at all, is there?
Or so I’ve heard.’
The
man shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. He turned to Clip as if to get him
up. But Julian rapped out at him at once,
‘Oh
no, you don’t!  You’ve only got
to be patient for a day or two more, and he’ll be quite all right. You’re not
to take him tonight. Dick, go and wake Captain Johnson. He’ll know what to do.’
‘No,’
said the man, scowling. ‘Don’t go waking anybody. I’ll go. But just you see
that Clip is given to Sniffer as soon as it’s possible, or I’ll know the reason
why! See?’
He
looked at Julian in a threatening way.
‘Take
that scowl off your face,’ said Julian. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense. Clear out
now. Go off with the others tomorrow and I’ll see that Sniffer has the horse in
a short time.’
The
man moved to the door and slid out like a shadow. Julian went to watch him
across the yard, wondering whether, out of spite, the man might try to steal a
hen, or one of the ducks sleeping beside the pond.
But
there was no sudden clucking, no loud quack. The man had gone as silently as he
had come.
‘Most
peculiar, all this!’ said Julian, latching the door again. He tied a piece of
thick string over it his side, so that it could not be lifted from outside.
‘There! Now if the gypsy comes again, he’ll find he can’t get in. What a nerve,
coming here in the middle of the night like that!’
He
got back into the straw. ‘He must have fallen right over my foot,’ he said,
snuggling down. ‘He woke me up with an awful jump. Good thing for Clip that we
were sleeping out here tonight, or he’d be dragging along a heavy cart
tomorrow, and going lame again. I don’t like that fellow!’
He
fell asleep again and so did Dick. Clip slept too, his leg feeling easier. How
glad he had been that day not to have to drag along the heavy caravan!
The
boys told Captain Johnson next morning about the gypsy’s midnight visit. He
nodded. ‘Yes, I ought to have warned you that he might come. They’re not always
very good to their horses.  I don’t reckon
Clip’s leg will be ready for walking on till the day after tomorrow. There’s no
harm in giving the poor creature a few days’ rest. Sniffer can easily take the
caravan on after the others.’
It
looked as if that day was going to be fun. After all the horses had been seen
to, and many odd jobs done, the four, with Timmy, planned to set out for a
day’s ride.  The girls had the
horses they usually rode.
Henry
hung about, looking very mournful. The boys felt quite uncomfortable. ‘We
really ought to tell her to come along too,’ said Dick to Julian. ‘It seems
jolly mean to leave her behind with those little kids.’
‘Yes,
I know. I agree with you,’ said Julian. ‘Anne, come here! Can’t you suggest to
George that we take Henry too? She’s longing to come, I know.’
‘Yes.
She is,’ said Anne. ‘I feel awful about it. But George will be mad if we ask
Henry. They really do get across one another. I simply daren’t ask George to
let Henry come, Ju.’
‘But
this is silly!’ said Julian. ‘To think we don’t dare to ask George to let
somebody come! George will have to learn sense. I like Henry. She’s boastful,
and I don’t believe half the tales she tells, but she’s a sport and good fun.
Hey, Henry!’
‘Coming!’
yelled Henry, and came running, looking very hopeful.
‘Would
you like to come with us?’ said Julian. ‘We’re all going off'for the day. Have
you got any jobs to do, or can you come?’
‘Can
I come! Rather,’ said Henry, joyfully. ‘But - does George know?’
‘I’ll
soon tell her,’ said Julian, and went in search of George. She was helping Mrs
Johnson to get saddle-bags ready, full of food.
‘George,’
said Julian, boldly. ‘Henry is coming too. Will there be enough food for
everyone?’
‘Oh!
How nice of you to ask her!’ said Mrs Johnson, sounding very pleased. ‘She’s
dying to come. She’s been so good this week, too, while we’ve been shorthanded.
She deserves a treat. Isn’t that nice, George?’
George
muttered something peculiar and went out of the room, her face scarlet. Julian
stared after her, his eyebrows cocked in a comical manner.
‘I
don’t somehow feel that George thinks it’s nice,’ he said. ‘I feel as if we are
in for an awkward day, Mrs Johnson.’
‘Oh,
don’t take any notice of George when she’s silly,’ said Mrs Johnson,
comfortably, filling another paper bag with delicious-looking sandwiches. ‘And
don’t take any notice of Henry, either, when she’s idiotic. There! If you get
through all this food, I shall be surprised!’
William,
one of the younger ones, came in just then. ‘What a lot of food you’ve given
them,’ he said. ‘Will there be enough left for us to have today?’
‘Good
gracious, yes!’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘You think of nothing but your tummy,
William! Go and find George and tell her the food is ready for her to put into
the saddle-bags.’
William
disappeared and then came back. ‘George says she’s got a headache and doesn’t
think she’ll go on the ride,’ he announced.
Julian
looked startled and upset. ‘Now you listen to me, Julian,’ said Mrs Johnson,
beginning to insert the parcels of food carefully into the saddle-bags, ‘just
you leave her to her imaginary headache. Don’t go fussing round her, and
begging her to come and saying you won’t have Henry. Just believe quite firmly
in her headache, and go off by yourselves. It’s the quickest way to make George
see sense, believe me!’
‘Yes.
I think you’re right,’ said Julian, frowning. To think that George should
behave like a sulky little girl, after all the adventures they had been through
together! Just because of Henry. It really was absurd.
‘Where
is George!’ he said to William.
‘Up
in her room,’ said William, who had been engrossed in picking up and eating all
the crumbs he could. Julian went out of the room and into the yard. He knew
which window belonged to the room where George and Anne slept. He yelled up.
‘I
say, George! Sorry about your headache, old thing!
‘Righto!
Awfully disappointed and all that!’ shouted Julian. ‘Do hope your head will
soon be better! See you later!’
No
other reply came from the window, but, as Julian went across the yard to the
stables, a very surprised face watched him go, from behind the bedroom
curtains. George was extremely astonished to have been taken at her word,
shocked at being left behind after all, and angry with Henry and everyone else
for putting her into this fix!
Julian
told the others that George had a headache and wasn’t coming. Anne was most
concerned and wanted to go and comfort her but Julian forbade her to.
‘No.
She’s up in her room. Leave her alone, Anne. That’s an order - see?’
‘All
right,’ said Anne, half-relieved. She felt sure that George’s headache was
mostly temper, and she didn’t at all want to go and argue with her for half an
hour. Henry hadn’t said a word. She had flushed with surprise when Julian had
announced that George was not coming, and she knew at once that there was no
real headache! She was George’s headache, she knew that!
She
went up to Julian. ‘Look, I guess it’s because you’ve asked me to come, that
Georgina won’t come with us. I don’t want to spoil things. You go and tell her
I’m not going after all.’
Julian
looked at Henry gratefully. ‘That’s jolly nice of you,’ he said. ‘But we’re
taking George at her word. Anyway, we didn’t ask you out of politeness. We
wanted you to come!’
‘Thanks,’
said Henry. ‘Well, let’s go before anything else happens! Our horses are ready.
I’ll fix the saddle-bags.’
Soon
all four were on their horses, and were walking over the yard to the gate.
George heard the clippity-clop-clippity-clop of the hooves and peeped out of
the window again. They were going after all! She hadn’t thought they really
would go without her. She was horrified.
Why
did I behave like that? I’ve put myself in the wrong! thought poor George. Now
Henrietta will be with them all day and will be as nice as possible, just to
show me up.   Aren’t I?’
Timmy
didn’t think so. He had been puzzled to hear the others going off without him
and George, and had gone to the door and whined. Now he came back to George and
put his head on her knee. He knew George was not happy.
 ‘That’s the best of a dog! You don’t care if I’m in the wrong or not, you
just love me all the same, don’t you? Well, you shouldn’t love me today, Tim.
I’ve been an idiot!’
There
was a knock at her door. It was William again. ‘George! Mrs Johnson says, if
your headache is bad, undress and get into bed. But if it’s better, come down
and help with Clip, the gypsy’s horse.’
‘I’ll
come down,’ said George, flinging away her sulks at one go.
George
went downstairs with Timmy, and into the yard. She wondered how far the others
had gone. She couldn’t see them in the distance. Would they have a good day
together, with that horrid Henry? Ugh!
The
others were almost a mile away, cantering easily. What fun! A whole day before
them, on Mystery Moor!
Chapter
Six
A
GRAND DAY
I
think it’s got a jolly good name, Mystery Moor,’ said Dick, as the four of them
went along. ‘Look at it stretching for miles, all blazing with gorse.’
‘I
don’t think it looks at all mysterious,’ said Henry, surprised.
‘Well,
it’s got a sort of quietness and broodiness,’ said Anne. ‘As if something big
happened long ago in the past and it’s waiting for something to happen again.’
‘Quiet
and broody? It sounds like one of the farmyard hens sitting on her eggs!’ said
Henry with a laugh. ‘I think it might be a bit frightening and mysterious at
night, but it’s just an ordinary stretch of country in the day-time, fine for
riding over. I can’t think why it’s called Mystery Moor.’
‘We’ll
have to look it up in some book that tells about this part of the country,’
said Dick. ‘I expect it was called that because of some queer happenings or
other, hundreds of years ago, when people believed in witches and things like
that.’
They
followed no road or path, but rode where they pleased. There were great
stretches of wiry grass, masses of heather springing up afresh, and, blazing its
gold everywhere on this lovely April day, was the gorse.
Anne
sniffed continually as they rode past the gorse bushes. Dick looked at her.
‘You
sound like Sniffer!’ he said. ‘Have you got a cold?’
Anne
laughed. ‘No, of course not. But I do so love the smell of the gorse. What does
it smell of? Vanilla? Hot coconut? It’s a lovely warm smell!’
‘Look!
What’s that moving over there?’ said Julian, suddenly reining in his horse.
They all strained their eyes to see.
‘Why,
it’s caravans!’ said Julian, at last. ‘Of course! They were setting out today,
weren’t they? Well, they must find it very rough going, that’s all I can say.
There’s no real road anywhere, as far as I can see.’
‘Where
can they be going?’ wondered Anne. ‘What’s over in that direction?’
‘They’ll
come to the coast if they keep on the way they are going,’ said Julian,
considering. ‘Let’s ride over and have a look at them, shall we?’
‘Yes.
Good idea!’ said Dick. So they turned their horses’ heads to the right, and
rode towards the faraway caravans. These made quite a splash of colour as they
went along. There were four of them - two red ones, a blue one and a yellow
one. They went very slowly indeed, each pulled by a small, wiry horse.
‘They
all look like skewbalds, brown and white,’ said Dick. ‘It’s funny that so many
gypsies have skewbald horses. I wonder why it is?’
They
heard shouting as they came near the caravans, and saw one man pointing them
out to another. It was Sniffer’s father!
‘Look,
that’s the fellow who woke us up in the stable last night,’ said Julian to
Dick. ‘Sniffer’s father!  Why doesn’t he get a
haircut?’
‘Good
morning!’ called Dick, as they rode up to the caravans on their horses. ‘Nice
day!’
There
was no answer. The gypsies driving their caravans and those walking alongside,
looked sourly at the four riders.
‘Where
are you going?’ asked Henry. ‘To the coast?’
‘It’s
naught to do with you,’ said one of the gypsies, an old man with curly grey
hair.
‘Surly
folk, aren’t they?’ said Dick to Julian. ‘I suppose they think we’re spying on
them, or something. I wonder how they manage about food on this moor, no shops
or anything. I suppose they take it all with them.’
‘I’ll
ask them,’ said Henry, not at all put off by the surly looks. She rode right up
to Sniffer’s father.
‘How
do you manage about food, and water?’ she asked.
‘We
got food there,’ said Snifler’s father, jerking his head back towards one of
the caravans. ‘As for water, we know where the springs are.’
‘Are
you camping on the moor for a long time?’ asked Henry, thinking that a gypsy’s
life might be a fine one, for a time! Fancy living out here on this lovely moor
with gorse blazing gold all around, and primroses by the thousand in the
sheltered corners!
‘That’s
naught to do with you!’ shouted the old man with curly grey hair. ‘You clear
off and let us alone!’
‘Come
on, Henry,’ said Julian, swinging round to go off. ‘They don’t like us asking
them questions. They think it’s prying, not interest. Maybe they have lots of
things to hide, and don’t want us poking around - one or two chickens from a
farm, a duck or so from some pond. They live from hand to mouth, these folk.’
Some
dark-eyed children peered from the vans as they went by. One or two were
running outside, but they sheered off like frightened rabbits when Henry
cantered towards them.
‘Oh
well, they simply don’t want to be friendly,’ she said, and went to join the
other three. ‘What a strange life they lead, in their houses on wheels! Never
staying anywhere for long, always on the move. Get up, there, Sultan. Go after
the others!’
Her
horse obediently followed the other three, taking care not to step into any
rabbit-holes! What fun it was to be out here in the sunshine, jogging up and
down on a horse’s back, without a care in the world! Henry was very happy.
The
other three were enjoying their day, but they were not quite so happy. They
kept wondering about George. They missed Timmy too. He should be trotting
beside them, enjoying the day as well!
They
lost sight of the caravans after a time. Julian kept track of the way they
went, half-afraid of being lost. He had a compass with him, and checked their
direction continually. ‘It would never do to have to spend a night out here!’
he said. ‘Nobody would ever find us!’
They
had a magnificent lunch about half-past twelve. Really, Mrs Johnson had
surpassed herself! Egg and sardine sandwiches, tomato and lettuce, ham - there
seemed no end to them! Great slices of cherry cake were added too, and a large,
juicy pear each.
‘I
like this kind of cherry cake,’ said Dick, looking at his enormous slice. ‘The
cherries have all gone to the bottom. They make a very nice last mouthful!’
‘Any
drinks?’ said Henry, and was handed a bottle of ginger-beer. She drank it
thirstily.
‘Why
does ginger-beer taste so nice on a picnic?’ she said. ‘Much nicer than
drinking it sitting down in a shop, even if it’s got ice in it!’
‘There’s
a spring or something nearby,’ said Julian. ‘I can hear it bubbling.’
They
all listened. Yes, there was a little bubbling, tinkling noise. Anne got up to
trace it. She found it in a few minutes and called the others. There was a
round pool, cool and blue, lying two or three feet down, and into it, from one
side, fell a crystal clear spring of water, tinkling as it fell.
‘One
of the springs that the gypsies use, when they travel this deserted moor, I
expect,’ said Julian. He cupped his hands under the falling water and got his
palms full. He carried the water to his mouth and sipped it.
‘Delicious!
Cool as an ice-box,’ he said. ‘Taste it, Anne.’
They
rode a little farther, but the moor seemed the same everywhere, heather, wiry
grass, gorse, a clear spring falling into a pool or tiny stream here and there,
and a few trees, mostly silver birch.
Larks
sang all the time, soaring high in the air, almost too far up to see.
‘Their
song falls down like raindrops,’ said Anne, holding out her hands as if to
catch them. Henry laughed. She liked this family, and was very glad they had
asked her to come out with them. She thought George was silly to have stayed at
the stables.
‘I
think we ought to go home,’ said Julian at last, looking at his watch. ‘We’re a
good way away. Let me see now. We want to make more or less for the setting
sun. Come on!’
He
led the way, his horse picking its own path over the heather. The others
followed. Dick stopped after a while.
‘Are
you sure we’re quite right, Ju? I don’t somehow feel that we are. The moor is
different here, rather sandy and not so much gorse.’
Julian
stopped his horse and looked round and about. ‘Yes, it does look a bit
different,’ he said. ‘But yet we seem to be going in the right direction. Let’s
go a bit more to the west. If only there was something on the horizon to guide
us. But this moor hasn’t a thing that stands out anywhere!’
They
went on again, and then Henry gave an exclamation. ‘I say! What’s this? Do come
here.’
The
two boys and Anne swerved over to Henry. She was now off her horse, and was
bending over, scraping away at the heather.
‘Look,
it seems like rails, or something,’ said Henry. ‘Very old and rusty. But they
can’t be, surely?’
Everyone
was now down on their knees, scraping sand and heather away. Julian sat back
and considered.
‘Yes,
it’s rails. Old ones, as you say. But what in the world were rails laid down here
for?’
‘I
can’t think,’ said Henry. ‘I only caught sight of them by chance, they’re so
overgrown. I couldn’t believe my eyes!’
‘They
must lead from somewhere to somewhere!’ said Dick. ‘Perhaps there was a quarry,
or something on the moor and they ran little engines with trucks there, to
fetch the sand, and take it back to town to sell.’
‘That’s
about it,’ said Julian. ‘It’s very sandy here, as we noticed. Good, fine sand.
Maybe there is a quarry on the moor. Well, that way, behind us goes right out
on the moor, so this way must lead back to some town or village, probably
Milling Green or somewhere like that.’
‘Yes.
You’re right,’ said Dick. ‘In which case, if we follow the lines along, we’ll
get back to civilization sooner or later!’
‘Well,
seeing that we seem to be more or less lost, that would be quite a good idea!’
said Henry. She mounted her horse again and rode along the lines.
‘They’re
fairly easy to see!’ she called. ‘If you ride between them, that is, because
they go so straight.’
The
lines ran steadily over the moor, sometimes very overgrown, and in about half
an hour’s time Henry gave a cry and pointed forward. ‘Houses! I thought we’d
soon come to some place!’
‘It
is Milling Green!’ said Julian, as the rails came to a sudden end, and they rode
out into a small cart-road.
‘Well,
we haven’t far to go now, to get to the stables,’ said Henry, pleased. ‘I say,
wouldn’t it be fun to follow those lines all across the moor and see where they
really lead to?’
‘Yes.
We might do that one day,’ said Julian. ‘Gosh, it’s getting late. I wonder how
old George has been getting on today!’
They
walked quickly along to the stables, thinking of George. Would she have retired
to bed? Would she still be cross, or worse still, hurt and grieved? It was
anybody’s guess!
Chapter
Seven
GEORGE,
SNIFFER AND LIZ
George
had had quite an interesting day. First she had gone down to help Captain
Johnson do Clip’s leg again and bandage it up.
‘Thanks,
George,’ said Captain Johnson, who, to her relief, had said nothing about her
not having gone riding with the others. ‘Now would you like to come and put
jumps up for the youngsters? They’re longing to do some more jumping.’
George
found that it was quite amusing to teach the younger ones how to jump. They
were so very very proud of themselves when they went over even a foot-high jump
on their little ponies.
After
that Sniffer arrived, accompanied by a peculiar little mongrel called Liz. Liz
was a bit of a spaniel, a bit of a poodle, and odd bits of something else - and
looked rather like a small, walking hearth-rug of black curly fur.
Timmy
was amazed to see this walking mat, and sat and watched Liz sniffing here and
there for some time, before he came to the conclusion that it really was some
kind of dog. He gave a sharp little bark to see what this comical creature
would do when she heard it.
Liz
took no notice at all. She had unearthed a small bone, which smelt extremely
interesting. Timmy considered that all bones within the radius of at least a
mile, belonged to him and him alone. So he ran over to Liz at once and gave a
small, warning growl.
Liz
immediately dropped the bone humbly at his feet, then sat up on her hind-legs
and begged. Timmy eyed her in astonishment. Then Liz stood up on her hindlegs
and walked daintily all round Timmy and back again.
Timmy
was astounded. He had never seen a dog do that before. Could this hearthrug
affair be a dog after all?
Liz
saw that Timmy was really impressed, and went on with yet another trick she had
learnt during the time she had been with the circus.
She
turned head-over-heels, yapping all the time. Timmy retreated a few steps into
the bushes. This was going too far! What was this animal doing? Trying to stand
on its head?
Liz
went on turning head-over-heels very rapidly and ended up almost on Timmy’s
front paws. He had now backed into the bush as far as he could.
Liz
remained on her back, paws in air, tongue hanging out, panting. She gave a very
small, beseeching whine.
Timmy
bent his head down and sniffed at her paws. Behind him his tail began to move a
little, yes, it had a wag in it! He sniffed again. Liz leapt on to her four
feet and pranced all round Timmy, yapping as if to say ‘Come on and play! Do
come!’
And
then suddenly Timmy fell upon the absurd little creature and pretended to worry
it. Liz gave a delighted volley of yaps and rolled over and over. They had a
marvellous game, and when it was all over, Timmy sank down panting for breath,
in a sunny corner of the yard and Liz settled herself between his front paws,
as if she had known him all her life!
When
George came out of the stable with Sniffer, she could hardly believe her eyes.
‘What’s that Timmy’s got between his paws?’ she said. ‘It’s surely not a dog!’
‘It’s
Liz,’ said Sniffer. ‘She can get round any dog there is, Master George! Liz!
You’re a monkey, aren’t you! Walk, then, walk!’
Liz
left Timmy and ran over to Sniffer, walking daintily on her hind legs. George
laughed. ‘What a funny little creature, like a bit cut out of a furry
hearthrug!’
‘She’s
clever,’ said Sniffer and patted Liz. ‘Well, Master George, when can I have
Clip, do yon think? My father has gone off with the other caravans and he’s
left me with ours. So it doesn’t matter whether it’s today or tomorrow, or even
the next day.’
‘Well,
it won’t be today, that’s certain,’ said George, pleased that Sniffer called
her Master George not Miss. ‘It might perhaps be tomorrow. Haven’t you got a
hanky, Sniffer? I never on my life heard anyone sniff as often as you do.’
Sniffer
rubbed his sleeve across his nose. ‘I never had no hanky,’ he said. ‘But I’ve
got my sleeve, see?’
‘I
think you’re quite disgusting,’ said George. ‘I’m going to give you one of my
own hankies, and you’re to use it. You’re not to keep sniffing like that.’
‘Didn’t
know I did,’ said Sniffer, half sulkily. ‘What’s it matter, anyway?’
But
George had gone indoors and up the stairs. She chose a large hanky, in red and
white stripes. That would do nicely for Sniffer! She took it down to him. He
looked at it in surprise.
‘That’s
a scarf for my neck!’ he said.
‘No,
it isn’t. It’s a hanky for your nose,’ said George. ‘Haven’t you a pocket to
put it in? That’s right. Now, use it instead of sniffing, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Where
are the others?’ asked Sniffer, putting the hanky carefully into his pocket,
almost as if it were made of glass.
‘Gone
riding,’ said George, shortly.
‘They
said they would come and see my caravan,’ said Sniffer. ‘They said so!’
‘Well,
they won’t be able to today,’ said George. ‘They’ll be back too late, I expect.
I’ll come and see it, though. There’s nobody in it, is there?’
George
was not keen on meeting Sniffer’s father or any other of his relations! He
shook his head. ‘No, it’s empty. My father’s gone, I told you, and my aunt and
my grandma too.’
‘What
do you do on the moor?’ asked George, as she followed Sniffer across the field
and up the hill to where the caravans had stood. Now only one was left -
Sniffer’s.
‘Play
around,’ said Sniffer, and gave an enormous sniff. George gave him a shove in
the back.
‘Sniffer!
What did I give you the hanky for? Don’t do that! It gets on my nerves!’
Sniffer
used his sleeve at once, but fortunately George didn’t notice. She had now come
to the caravan and was staring at it. She thought of Sniffer’s answer to her
question a minute or two back.
‘You
said you just played around on the moor. But what does your father do, and your
uncle and grandad and all the rest of the men? There’s nothing to do there at
all, as far as I can see, and no farmhouse to beg eggs or milk or anything
from.’
 He was just about to sniff and thought better of it. He
stared at George, his mouth set in an obstinate line.
George
looked at him impatiently. ‘Captain Johnson said you and your caravans went
there every three months,’ she said. ‘What for? There must be some reason?’
‘Well,’
said Sniffer, looking away from her, ‘we make pegs, and baskets, and...’
‘I
know that! All gypsies make things to sell,’ said George. ‘But you don’t need
to go into the middle of a deserted moor to make them. You can do them just as
well in a village, or sitting in a field near a farmhouse. Why go to such a
lonely place as the moor?’
Sniffer
said nothing, but bent over a queer little arrangement of sticks set on the
path beside his caravan. George saw them and bent over them too, her question
forgotten.
‘Oh!
Is that a patrin? A gypsy message! What does it mean?’
There
were two sticks, one long and one short, neatly arranged in the shape of a
cross. A little farther up on the path were a few single, straight sticks, all
pointing in the same direction.
‘Yes,’
said Sniffer, very glad to have the subject changed. ‘It’s our way of telling
things to those who may come after us. See the sticks in the shape of the
cross? That’s a patrin that says we’ve been along this way and we’re going in
the direction that the long stick points.’
‘I
see,’ said George. ‘How simple! But what about these four straight sticks, all
pointing the same way too. What do they mean?’
‘They
mean that the travellers went in caravans,’ said Sniffer, giving a sudden
sniff. ‘See, four sticks, four caravans, going that way!’
‘I
see,’ said George, making up her mind that she herself would evolve quite a few
‘patrins’ for use at school when they went for walks. ‘Are there any more
“patrins” Sniffer?’
‘Plenty,’
said the boy.  He placed them
side by side, and weighted them down with small stones.
‘What
in the world does that mean?’ said George.
 ‘Suppose my father came back
to find me, and he saw those leaves there, he’d know I’d gone on with my dog.
It’s simple. Big leaf for me, little leaf for my dog!’
‘Yes.
I like it,’ said George, pleased. ‘Now let’s look at the caravan.’
It
was an old-fashioned kind of caravan, not very big, and with high wheels. The
door and the steps down were in front. The shafts rested on the ground waiting
for Clip to come back. The caravan was black, with red designs on it here and
there.
George
went up the steps. ‘I’ve been inside a few caravans,’ she said. ‘But never one
quite like this.’
She
peeped in curiously. It certainly wasn’t very clean, but it wasn’t as dirty as
she expected either.
‘It’s
not smelly, is it?’ said Sniffer, quite anxiously. ‘I tidied it up today,
seeing as how I thought you were all visiting me. That’s our bed at the back.
We all sleep on it.’
George
stared at the big bunk-like bed stretched at the end of the caravan, covered
with a bright quilt. She imagined the whole family sleeping there, close
together. Well at least they would be warm in the winter.
‘Don’t
you get hot in the summer, sleeping in this small caravan?’ asked George.
‘Oh
no, only my grandma sleeps here then,’ said Sniffer, swallowing a sniff in a hurry,
before George could hear it. ‘Me and the others sleep under the caravan. Then
if it rains it don’t matter.’
‘Well,
thanks for showing me so many things,’ said George, looking round at the
cupboards, the little locker-seats, and the over-big chest of drawers. ‘How you
all get in here is a miracle.’
She
didn’t go in. Even though Sniffer had tidied up, there was still a distinctly
peculiar smell hanging about!
‘Come
and see us tomorrow, Sniffer,’ she said, going down the steps. ‘Clip may be all
right by then. And Sniffer, don’t you forget you’ve got a hanky now!’
‘I
won’t forget,’ said Sniffer, proudly. ‘I’ll keep it as clean as can be, Master
George!’
Chapter
Eight
SNIFFER
MAKES A PROMISE
George
was feeling very lonely by the time the evening came. How had the others got on
without her? Had they missed her at all? Perhaps they hadn’t even thought of
her!
‘Anyway,
they didn’t have you, Timmy!’ said George. ‘You wouldn’t go off and leave me,
would you?’
Timmy
pressed against her, glad to see that she was happier again. He wondered where
the others were, and where they had gone to all day.
There
was suddenly a clattering of hooves in the stableyard and George flew to the
door. Yes, they were back! How should she behave? She felt cross and relieved
and rather humble and glad all at once! She stood there, not knowing whether to
frown or to smile.
The
others made up her mind for her. ‘Hallo, George!’ shouted Dick. ‘We did miss
you!’
‘How’s
your head?’ called Anne. ‘I hope it’s better!’
‘Hallo!’
called Henry. ‘You ought to have come. We’ve had a super day!’
‘Come
and help us stable the horses, George,’ shouted Julian. ‘Tell us what you’ve
been doing!’
Timmy
had sped over to them, barking in delight. George found her legs running
towards them too, a welcoming smile on her face.
‘Hallo!’
she called. ‘Let me help! Did you really miss me? I missed you too.’
The
boys were very relieved to see that George was herself again. Nothing more was
said about her headache! She busied herself unsaddling the horses and listening
to their story of the day. Then she told them about Sniffer and his patrins,
and how she had given him a brand-new handkerchief.
‘But
I’m sure he thinks he’s got to keep it spotlessly clean!’ she said. ‘He never
used it once when I was with him. There’s the supper-bell, we’ll only just be
in time! Are you hungry?’
‘You
bet we are!’ said Dick. ‘Though after Mrs Johnson’s sandwiches I never thought
I’d be able to eat any supper at all. How’s Clip?’
‘Never
mind now. I’ll tell you everything at supper,’ said George. ‘Do you want any
help, Henry?’
Henry
was surprised to hear George call her Henry instead of Henrietta. ‘No thanks -
er - George,’ she said. ‘I can manage.’
It
was a very jolly supper-time that evening. The youngsters were set at a table
by themselves, so the older ones talked to their hearts’ content.
Captain
Johnson was very interested to hear about the old railway they had found. ‘I
never knew there was anything like that on the moors,’ he said. ‘Though, of
course, we’ve only been here about fifteen years, so we don’t know a great deal
of the local history. You want to go and ask old Ben the blacksmith about that.
He’s lived here all his life, and a long life it is, for he’s over eighty!’
‘Well,
we’ve got to take some of the horses to be shod tomorrow, haven’t we?’ said
Henry, eagerly. ‘We could ask him then! Why, he might even have helped to make
the rails!’
‘We
saw the caravans, George, when we had got pretty far out on the moor,’ said
Julian. ‘Goodness knows where they were heading for, towards the coast, I
should think. What’s the coast like beyond the moor, Captain Johnson?’
‘Wild,’
said the Captain. ‘Great, unclimbable cliffs, and reefs or rocks stretching out
to sea. Only the birds live there. There’s no bathing, no boating, no beach.’
‘Well,
it beats me where those caravans are going,’ said Dick. ‘It’s a mystery. They
go every three months, don’t they?’
‘About
that,’ said Captain Johnson. ‘I’ve no idea what the attraction of the moor is
for the gypsies. It just beats me! Usually they won’t go anywhere where there
are not a few farms, or at least a small village where they can sell their
goods.’
‘I’d
like to go after them and see where they are and what they’re doing,’ said
Julian, eating his third hard-boiled egg.
‘All
right. Let’s,’ said George.
‘But
how? We don’t know where they’ve gone,’ said Henry.
‘Well,
Sniffer’s going to join them tomorrow, or as soon as Clip is all right for
walking,’ said George. ‘And he’s got to follow the patrins left on the way by the
others. He says that he looks at the places where fires have been made on the
way, and beside them somewhere he will see the patrins, the sticks that point
in the direction he must follow.’
‘He’s
sure to destroy them,’ said Dick. ‘We couldn’t follow them!’
‘We’ll
ask him to leave his own patrins,’ said George. ‘I think he will. He’s not a
bad little boy, really. I could ask him to leave plenty of patrins, so that we
could easily find the way.’
‘Well,
it might be fun to see if we could read the right road to go, just as easily as
the gypsies do,’ said Julian. ‘We could make it a day’s ride. It would be
interesting!’
Henry
gave a most enormous yawn, and that made Anne yawn too, though hers was a very
polite one.
‘Henry!’
said Mrs Johnson.
‘Sorry,’
said Henry. ‘It just came almost like a sneeze does. I don’t know why, but I
feel almost asleep.’
‘Go
to bed then,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘You’ve had such a day of air and sunshine! You
all look very brown too. The April sun has been as hot as June today.’
The
five of them, and Timmy, went out for a last look at the horses, and to do one
or two small jobs. Henry yawned again, and that set everyone else off, even
George.
‘Me
for the straw!’ said Julian, with a laugh. ‘Oh, the thought of that warm, comfy
straw bed is too good for words! You girls are welcome to the beds!’
‘I
hope Sniffer’s Pa doesn’t come in the middle of the night again,’ said Dick.
‘I
shall tie up the latch,’ said Julian. ‘Well, let’s go and say goodnight to Mrs
Johnson.’
It
wasn’t long before the three girls were in bed and the two boys cuddled down in
the straw of the stable. Clip was there still, but he no longer fidgeted. He
lay down quietly, and did not once move his bad leg. It was getting much
better. He would certainly be able to go after the others the next day!
Julian
and Dick fell asleep at once. No one came creeping in at the stable door that
night. Nothing disturbed them until the morning, when a cock got into the
stable through a window, sat on a rafter just above them, and crowed loudly
enough to wake both boys with a jump.
‘What’s
that!’ said Dick. ‘That awful screeching in my ear! Was it you, Ju?’
 ‘Blow him!’ said Julian, settling down
again. ‘I could do with another couple of hours sleep!’
That
morning Sniffer came slipping in at the gate again. He never came boldly in, he
slid through the hedge, or crept in at the gate, or appeared round a corner. He
saw George and went over to her.
‘Master
George,’ he called, much to Julian’s amusement. ‘Is Clip better?’
‘Yes!’
called back George. ‘Captain Johnson says you can take him today. But wait a
bit, Sniffer, I want to ask you something before you go.’
Sniffer
was pleased. He liked this girl who had presented him with such a magnificent
handkerchief. He took it carefully out of his pocket, hoping to please her.
‘See,’
he said. ‘How clean it is! I have kept it very carefully.’ He sniffed loudly.
‘You’re
a fathead,’ said George, exasperated. ‘I gave it to you to use, not to keep
clean in your pocket. It’s to stop your sniffing. Honestly, you’re a bit of a
mutt, Sniffer. I shall take that hanky away if you don’t use it!’
Sniffer
looked alarmed. He shook it out carefully and then lightly touched his nose
with it. He then folded it up conscientiously in the right creases and put it
back into his pocket again.
‘Now,
NO sniffing!’ commanded George, trying not to laugh. ‘Listen, Sniffer, you know
those patrins you showed me yesterday?’
‘Yes,
Master George,’ said Sniffer.
‘Well,
will the other gypsies who have gone in front, leave you patrins to follow, so
that you will know the way?’ said George.
Sniffer
nodded. ‘Yes, but not many, because I have been that way twice before. They
will only leave them in places where I might go wrong.’
‘I
see,’ said George. ‘Now Sniffer, we want to have a sort of game. We want to see
which of us can follow patrins, and we want you to lay patrins for us quite
often, on your way to your family today. Will you?’
‘Oh
yes, I will,’ said Sniffer, quite proud to have a favour asked of him. ‘I will
lay the ones I showed you, the cross, the long sticks, and the big and little
leaf.’
‘Yes,
do,’ said George. ‘That will mean that you have passed in a certain direction
and you are a boy and a dog. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’
said Sniffer, nodding his head. ‘You have remembered!’
‘Right.
And we’re going to have a kind of game, trying to pretend we are travelling
gypsies following others who have passed,’ said George.
‘You
must not show yourselves when you come up to our caravans,’ said Sniffer,
looking suddenly alarmed. ‘I should get into trouble for laying patrins for
you.’
‘All
right. We’ll be careful,’ said George. ‘Now let’s go and get Clip.’
They
fetched the patient little skewbald who came out gladly. He no longer limped,
and his rest seemed to have done him good. He went off at a good pace with
Sniffer. The last George heard of them was a very loud sniff indeed!
‘Sniffer!’
she shouted, warningly. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the hanky.
He waved it gaily in the air, a sudden grin lighting up his face.
George
went to find the others. ‘Sniffer has taken Clip,’ she said. ‘What about going
down to the blacksmith, and taking those horses that want shoeing?’
‘Good
idea,’ said Julian. ‘We can ask him all about Mystery Moor then, and the
strange little railway line, or whatever it is! Come on.’
They
took the horses that needed shoeing. There were six of them, so they each rode
one, and Julian led the sixth. Timmy ran happily along beside them. He loved
the horses, and they regarded him as a real friend, bending their long noses
down to sniff at him, whenever he came near.
They
went slowly down the long lane to the blacksmith’s. ‘There it is!’ said George.
‘A proper old smithy with a lovely fire! And there’s the smith!’
Old
Ben was a mighty figure of a man, even though he was over eighty. He didn’t
shoe many horses now, but sat in the sun, watching all that was going on. He
had a great mane of white hair, and eyes that were as black as the coal he had so
many times heated to a fiery flame.
‘Good
morning, young masters and Miss,’ he said and Julian grinned. That would please
George and Henry!
‘We’ve
got some questions to ask you,’ said George, dismounting.
‘Ask
away!’ said the old man. ‘If it’s about this place, there’s nothing much old
Ben can’t tell you! Give Jim your horses. Now, ask away!’
Chapter
Nine
THE
BLACKSMITH TELLS A TALE
Well,
began Julian, ‘we went riding on Mystery Moor yesterday, and for one thing we’d
like to know if there is any reason for the curious name. Was there ever a
mystery on that moor?’
‘Oh,
there be plenty of mysteries away there,’ said Old Ben. ‘People lost and never
come back again, noises that no one could find the reason of...’
‘What
kind of noises?’ said Anne, curiously.
‘Ah
now, when I were a boy, I spent nights up on that moor,’ said old Ben,
solemnly, ‘and the noises that went on there! Screeches and howls and the like,
and moans and the sweep of big wings...’
‘Well,
all that might have been owls and foxes and things like that,’ said Dick.  If I hadn’t known it was an owl I’d have run for miles!’
Ben
grinned and his face ran into a score of creases and wrinkles.
‘Why
is it called Mystery Moor?’ persisted Julian. ‘Is it a very old name?’
‘When
my Grandad was a boy it were called Misty Moor,’ said the old blacksmith,
remembering. ‘See, Misty, not Mystery. And that were because of the sea-fogs
that came stealing in from the coast, and lay heavy on the moor, so that no man
could see his hand in front of his face. Yes, I’ve been lost in one of them
mists, and right scared I was too. It swirled round me like a live thing, and
touched me all over with its cold damp fingers.’
‘How
horrid!’ said Anne with a shiver. ‘What did you do?’
‘Well,
first I ran for my life,’ said Ben, getting out his pipe and looking into the
empty bowl. ‘I ran over heather and into gorse. I fell a dozen times, and all
the time the mist was feeling me with its damp fingers, trying to get me,
that’s what the old folk used to say of that mist, it was always trying to get
you!’
‘Still,
it was only a mist,’ said George, feeling that the old man was exaggerating.
‘Does it still come over the moor?’
‘Oh
ay,’ said Ben, ramming some tobacco into his pipe. ‘Autumn’s the time, but it
comes sudden-like at any moment of the year.
‘Well,
it may last for days,’ said old Ben. ‘And if you’re lost on them moors, you’re
lost proper, and you never come back. Ah, smile if you like, young sir, but I
knows!’ He went off into memories of long ago, looking down at his pipe. ‘Let’s
see now, there was old Mrs Banks, who went bilberry-picking with her basket on
a summer’s afternoon, and no one ever heard of her again, after the mist came
down. And there was young Victor who played truant and went off to the moors,
and the mist got him too.’
‘I
can see we’d better watch out for the mist if we go riding there,’ said Dick.
‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’
‘Yes.
You keep your eyes skinned,’ said old Ben. ‘Look away to the coast-side and
watch there, that’s where it comes from. But there baint many mists nowadays, l
don’t know for why. No, now I think on it, there haven’t been a mist, not a
proper wicked one, for nigh on three years.’
‘What
I’d like to know is why was the name changed to Mystery Moor,’ said Henry. ‘I
can understand its being called Misty Moor, but now everyone calls it Mystery,
not Misty.’
‘Well
now, that must have been about seventy years ago, when I were a bit of a boy,’
said Ben, lighting his pipe and puffing hard. He was enjoying himself. He
didn’t often get such an interested audience as this, five of them, including a
dog who sat and listened too!
‘That
was when the Bartle Family built the little railway over the moor,’ he began,
and stopped at the exclamations of his five listeners.
‘Ah!
We wanted to know about that!’
‘Oh!
You know about the railway then!’
‘Do
go on!’
The
blacksmith seemed to get some trouble with his pipe and pulled at it for an
exasperatingly long time. George wished she was a horse and could stamp her
foot impatiently!
‘Well,
the Bartle Family was a big one,’ said Ben at last. ‘All boys, but for one
ailing little girl. Big strong fellows they were, I remember them well. I was
scared of them, they were so free with their fists. Well, one of them, Dan,
found a mighty good stretch of sand out there on the moor...’
‘Oh
yes, we thought there might have been a sand-quarry,’ said Anne. Ben frowned at
the interruption.
‘And
as there were nine or ten good strong Bartles, they reckoned to make a fine do
of it,’ said Ben. ‘They got wagons and they went to and from the quarry they
dug, and they sold their sand for miles around, good, sharp sand it were...’
‘We
saw some,’ said Henry. ‘But what about the rails?’
‘Don’t
hurry him,’ said Dick, with a frown.
‘They
made a mort of money,’ said Ben, remembering. ‘And they set to work and built a
little railway to carry an injin and trucks to the quarry and back, to save
labour. My, my, that were a nine days’ wonder, that railway! Us youngsters used
to follow the little injin, puffing along, and it were the longing of us all to
drive it. But we never did. Them Bartles kept a big stick, each one of them,
and they whipped the hide off any boy that got too near them. Fierce they were,
and quarrelsome.’
‘Why
did the railway fall into ruin?’ asked Julian. ‘The rails are all overgrown
with heather and grass now. You can hardly see them.’
‘Well,
now we come to that there Mystery you keep on about,’ said Ben, taking an extra
big puff at his pipe. ‘Them Bartles fell foul of the gypsies up on the moor...’
‘Oh,
were there gypsies on the moor then?’ said Dick. ‘There are some now!’
‘Oh
ay, there’s always been gypsies on the moor, long as I can remember,’ said the
blacksmith. ‘Well, it’s said them gypsies quarrelled with the Bartles, and it
wasn’t hard to do that, most people did! And the gypsies pulled up bits of the
line, here and there, and the little injin toppled over and pulled the trucks
with it.’
The
children could quite well imagine the little engine puffing along, coming to
the damaged rails and falling over.
‘The
Bartles weren’t ones to put up with a thing like that,’ said Ben, ‘so they set
about to drive all the gypsies off the moor, and they swore that if so much as
one caravan went there, they’d set fire to it and chase the gypsies over to the
coast and into the sea!’
‘They
must have been a fierce family,’ said Anne.
‘You’re
right there,’ said Ben. ‘All nine or ten of them were big upstanding men, with
great shaggy eyebrows that almost hid their eyes, and loud voices. Nobody dared
to cross them. If they did, they’d have the whole family on their door-step
with sticks. They ruled this place, they did, and my, they were hated! Us
children ran off as soon as we saw one coming round a corner.’
‘What
about the gypsies? Did the Bartles manage to drive them off the moor?’ asked
George, impatiently.
 ‘You want
a Bartle after you, young sir, that’s what you want!’ He thought she was a boy,
of course. He did something to his pipe and made them all wait a little. Julian
winked at the others. He liked this old fellow with his long, long memories.
‘Now,
you can’t cross the gypsies for long,’ said Ben, at last. ‘That’s a fact, you
can’t. And one day all them Bartles disappeared and never came back home. No,
not one of them. All that was left of the family was little lame Agnes, their
sister.”
Everyone
exclaimed in surprise and old Ben looked round with satisfaction. Ah, he could
tell a story, he could!
‘But
whatever happened?’ said Henry.
‘Well,
no one rightly knows,’ said Ben. ‘It happened in a week when the mist came
swirling over the moors and blotted everything out. Nobody went up there except
the Bartles, and they were safe because all they had to do was to follow their
railway lines there and back. They went up to the quarry each day the mist was
there, and worked the same as usual. Nothing stopped they Bartles from
working!’
He
paused and looked round at his listeners. He dropped his voice low, and all
five of the children felt little shivers up their backs.
‘One
night somebody in the village saw twenty or more gypsy caravans slinking
through the village at dead of night,’ said Ben. ‘Up on the moor they went in
the thick mist. Mebbe they followed the railway; nobody knows. And next
morning, up to the quarry went the Bartles as usual, swallowed up in the mist.’
He
paused again. ‘And they never came back,’ he said. ‘No, not one of them. Never
heard of again!’
‘But
what happened?’ said George.
‘Search-parties
were sent out when the mist cleared,’ said old Ben. ‘But never one of the
Bartles did they find, alive or dead. Never a one! And they didn’t find any
gypsy caravans either. They’d all come creeping back the next night, and passed
through the village like shadows. I reckon them gypsies set upon the Bartles in
the mist that day, fought them and defeated them, and took them and threw them
over the cliffs into the roaring sea!’
‘How
horrible!’ said Anne, feeling sick.
‘Don’t
worrit yourself!’ said the blacksmith. ‘It all happened a mort of time ago, and
there wasn’t many that mourned them Bartles, I can tell you. Funny thing was,
their weakly little sister, Agnes, she lived to be a hale old woman of
ninety-six, and only died a few years ago! And to think them strong fierce
brothers of hers went all together like that!’
‘It’s
a most interesting story, Ben,’ said Julian. ‘So Misty Moor became Mystery Moor
then, did it? And nobody ever really found out what happened, so the mystery
was never solved. Didn’t anyone work the railway after that, or get the sand?’
‘No,
not a soul,’ said Ben. ‘We was all scared, you see, and young Agnes, she said
the railway and the trucks and injin could rot, for all she cared. I never
dared to go near them after that. It was a long time before anyone but the
gypsies set foot on Misty Moor again. Now it’s all forgotten, the tale of the
Bartles, but them gypsies still remember, I’ve no doubt! They’ve got long
memories, they have.’
‘Do
you know why they come to Mystery Moor every so often?’ asked Dick.
‘No.
They come and they go,’ said Ben.  They don’t
belong anywhere, them folk. What they do on the moor is their own business, and
I wouldn’t want to poke my nose into it. I’d remember them old Bartles, and
keep away!’
A
voice came from inside the smithy, where Jim, the blacksmith’s grandson, had
been shoeing the horses. ‘Grandad! You stop jabbering away there, and let the
children come and talk to me! I’ve shod nearly all the horses.’
Ben
laughed. ‘You go along,’ he said to the children. ‘I know you like to be in
there and see the sparks fly, and the shoes made.  You go along into the smithy. And just you
remember two things - watch out for that mist, and keep away from the gypsies
on the moor!’
Chapter
Ten
SNIFFER’S
PATRINS
It
was fun in the smithy, working the bellows, seeing the fire glow, and watching
the red-hot shoes being shaped. Jim was quick and clever, and it was a pleasure
to watch him.
‘You
been hearing Grandad’s old stories?’ he said. ‘It’s all he’s got to do now, sit
there and remember, though when he wants to he can make a horse-shoe as well as
I can! There, that’s the last one. Stand still, Sultan. That’s right!’
The
five children were soon on their way back again. It was a lovely morning, and
the banks and ditches they passed were bright gold with thousands of
celandines.
‘All
beautifully polished!’ said Anne, picking two or three for her button-hole. It
did look as if someone had polished the inside of each petal, for they gleamed
like enamel.
 ‘He told it well!’
‘Yes.
He made me feel I don’t want to go up on the moor again!’ said Anne.
‘Don’t
be feeble!’ said George. ‘It all happened ages ago. Jolly interesting too. I
wonder if the gypsies who are there now know the story. Maybe their
great-grand-parents were the ones who set on the Bartles that misty day!’
‘Well,
Sniffer’s father looked sly enough to carry out a plan like that,’ said Henry.
‘What about us having a shot at following the way they went, and seeing if we
can make out the patrins that Sniffer told George he would leave?’
‘Good
idea,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll go this afternoon. I say, what’s the time? I should
think it must be half-past dinner-time!’
They
looked at their watches. ‘Yes, we’re late, but we always are when we get back
from the blacksmith,’ said George. ‘Never mind, I bet Mrs Johnson will have an
extra special meal for us!’
She
had! There was an enormous plate of stew for everyone, complete with carrots,
onions, parsnips and turnips, and a date pudding to follow. Good old Mrs
Johnson!
‘You
three girls must wash up for me afterwards,’ she said. ‘I’ve such a lot to do
today.’
‘Why
can’t the boys help?’ said George at once.
‘I’ll
do all the washing-up,’ said Anne with a sudden grin. ‘You four boys can go out
to the stables!’
Dick
gave her a good-natured shove. ‘You know we’ll help, even if we’re not good at
it. I’ll dry. I hate those bits and pieces that float about in the
washing-bowl.’
‘Will
it be all right if we go up on the moors this afternoon?’ asked George.
‘Yes,
quite all right. But if you want to take your tea, you’ll have to pack it
yourselves,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘I’m taking the small children out for a ride,
and there’s one on the leading-rein still, as you know.’
They
were ready to set off at three o’clock their tea packed and everything. The
horses were caught in the field and got ready too. They set off happily.
‘Now
we’ll see if we are as clever as we think we are, at reading gypsy patrins!’
said George. ‘Timmy, don’t chase every rabbit you see, or you’ll be left
behind!’
They
cantered up on to the moor, passing the place where the caravans had stood.
They knew the direction they had taken, and here and there they saw
wheel-marks. It was fairly easy to follow their trail, because five caravans
made quite a path to follow.
‘Here’s
where they camped first,’ said Julian, riding up to a blackened spot that
showed where a fire had been lighted. ‘We ought to find a message left
somewhere here.’
They
searched for one. George found it. ‘It’s here, behind this tree!’ she called.
‘Out of the wind.’
They
dismounted and came round George. On the ground was the patrin, the shape of a
cross, the long stick pointing forwards, in the direction they were going.
Other single sticks lay there, to show that a caravan had gone that way, and
beside them were the large and the small leaf, weighted with tiny stones.
‘What
did those leaves show now, oh yes, Sniffer and his dog!’ said Dick. ‘Well,
we’re on the right way, though we’d know that anyhow, by the fire!’
They
mounted again and went on. It proved quite easy to find and follow the patrins.
Only once did they find any difficulty and that was when they came to a place,
marked by two trees, where there was no apparent sign in the heather of any
caravan marks.
‘The
heather’s so jolly thick here that it’s taken the caravans as if it were a
feather-bed, springing up when they had gone, and giving no sign of where they
had passed,’ said Julian. He dismounted and had a good look round. No, there
was no sign.
 ‘We may come to a camping place, then we’ll
know.’
But
they came to no old camping place, and stopped at last in bewilderment. ‘We’ve
lost the trail,’ said Dick. ‘We’re not such good gypsies after all!’
‘Let’s
go back to those two trees,’ said George. ‘We can still just see them. If it’s
so easy to lose the way there, there might be a patrin, although there are no
camp-marks. After all, a patrin is left to show the way, in case the ones
following take the wrong route.’
So
back they rode to the two trees, and there, sure enough, was Sniffer’s patrin!
Henry found it set carefully between the trees, so that nothing could disturb
it.
‘Here’s
the cross, and the single sticks, and the leaves!’ she said. ‘But look, the
long stick of the cross points to the east and we went off to the north. No wonder
we found no signs of the caravans!’
They
set off to the east this time, across the thick, springy heather, and almost at
once found signs of the passing of caravans, twigs broken off the bushes, a
wheel rut on a soft piece of ground.
‘We’re
right now,’ said Julian, pleased. ‘I was beginning to think it was all too easy
for words! But it isn’t!’
They
rode for two hours, and then decided to have tea. They sat down in a little
glade of silver birches, with an unexpected copse of pale primroses behind.
Timmy had to make up his mind which to choose, a rabbit-chase, or titbits from
the children’s tea!
He
chose both, racing after an imaginary rabbit, and then coming back for a
sandwich!’
‘You
know, it’s a lot better for us when Mrs Johnson makes sandwiches of tomato or
lettuce or something like that,’ said Henry. ‘We do get them all then, but when
we have meat or sardine or egg sandwiches Timmy gets as much as we do!’
‘Well,
surely you don’t mind that, Henrietta,’ said George at once. ‘You make Timmy sound
very greedy.
‘He
sort of hypnotizes me,’ complained Henry. ‘Make him go away, George, I shan’t
be able to keep a single sandwich or bit of cake for myself. Go and stare at
someone else, Timmy, for goodness’ sake!’
Julian
looked at his watch. ‘I don’t think we ought to spend too long over tea,’ he
said. ‘I know we’ve got summertime now, and the evenings are nice and light,
but we haven’t reached the gypsy camp yet, and after that we’ve got to go all
the way back. What about starting off again?’
‘Right,’
said everyone and remounted their horses. They set off through the heather.
Soon they found it unexpectedly easy to follow the caravan route, because the
soil became sandy, and there were many bare patches on which the marks of the
wheels could plainly be seen.
‘Goodness,
if we go to the east much more, we’ll come to the sea!’ said Dick.
‘No,
it’s still some miles away,’ said Julian. ‘Hallo, there’s a little hill or
something in the distance. First time we’ve seen anything but complete
flatness!’
The
wheel-marks led steadily towards the little hill, which, as they came near,
seemed to grow considerably bigger. ‘I bet the caravans are there,’ said
George. ‘That hill would give a nice bit of shelter from the wind that came
from the sea. I believe I can see one!’
George
was right. The caravans were there. They showed up well against the hill, in
their bright colours.
‘They’ve
even got up a washing-line as usual!’ said Anne. ‘Clothes flapping in the
wind!’
‘Let’s
go and ask if Clip is all right,’ said Julian. ‘It will be a very good excuse
for going right up to the camp.’
So
they cantered straight up to the little group of five caravans. Four or five
men appeared as soon as they heard the sound of hooves. They looked silent and
rather forbidding. Sniffer ran out and shouted.
‘Hallo!
Clip’s fine! Quite all right again!’
His
father gave him a push and said something sharp to him. He disappeared under
the nearest caravan.
Julian
rode up to Sniffer’s father. ‘Did I hear Sniffer say that Clip was quite all
right?’ he asked. ‘Where is he?’
‘Over
there,’ said the man, with a nod of his head. ‘No need for you to see him. He’s
mended fine.’
‘All
right, all right! I’m not going to take him away from you!’ said Julian. ‘This
is a nice sheltered place you’ve got, isn’t it? How long are you staying?’
‘What’s
that to do with you?’ said an old gypsy, unpleasantly.
‘Nothing,’
said Julian, surprised. ‘Just a polite question, that’s all!’
‘How
do you get water?’ called George. ‘Is there a good spring here?’
There
was no reply at all. The four or five men had now been joined by others, and
there were three mangy-looking dogs growling round. Timmy was beginning to
growl back.
‘You’d
better go before our dogs get at you,’ said Sniffer’s father, sourly.
‘Where’s
Liz?’ said George, remembering Sniffer’s dog, but before she got an answer the
three dogs suddenly made an attack on Timmy! They pounced on him and he had
hard work to keep them off. He was far bigger than they were, but they were
nippy little things.
‘Call
off those dogs!’ yelled Julian, seeing that George was dismounting to go to
Timmy’s help. She would get bitten. ‘Do you hear me? Call off those dogs.’
Sniffer’s
father whistled. The three dogs reluctantly left Timmy and went over to the
men, their tails down. George had reached Tim and had now got her hand on his
collar to stop him from chasing the other three dogs.
‘Mount
your horse, whistle Timmy, and we’ll go,’ shouted Julian, not at all liking the
silent, sour-looking gypsies. George did as she was told. Timmy ran beside her,
and they all cantered away from the unpleasant camp.
The
men stood watching them in complete silence. ‘What’s up with them?’ said Dick
puzzled. ‘Anyone would think they were planning another Bartle affair!’
‘Don’t!’
said Anne. ‘They’re planning something, all alone out here, far away from
anywhere! I shan’t go near them again.’
‘They
thought we were prying and spying,’ said Dick. ‘That’s all. Poor old Sniffer.
What a life he has!’
‘We
couldn’t even tell him that we found his patrins useful,’ said George. ‘Oh
well, there’s probably nothing in it, not even an adventure!’
Was
she right or wrong?  They didn’t know. Oh well, time would tell!
Chapter
Eleven
A
NICE LITTLE PLAN
The
five of them told Captain and Mrs Johnson about their afternoon’s experience,
as they were having supper.
‘Patrins!’
said Mrs Johnson. ‘So Sniffer told you about those? But I really don’t think
you should visit the gypsy camp. Those particular gypsies are a surly,
bad-tempered lot.’
‘Did
you ever hear the tale of the Big Bartles?’ said Henry, getting ready to relate
it, and add little bits of her own, here and there!
‘No.
But it can wait, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Johnson, knowing Henry’s habit of leaving
her food quite uneaten once she began on some marvellous tale. ‘Is it one of
your tales? You can tell it after supper.’
‘It’s
not Henry’s tale,’ said George, annoyed that Henry should get all the limelight
again, and take the blacksmith’s tale for her own. ‘It’s one old Ben told us.
Ju, you tell it!’
‘Nobody
is to tell it now,’ said Captain Johnson. ‘You came in late for supper, we
waited for you, and the least you can do is to get on with your eating.’
The
five juniors at the other table were disappointed. They had hoped to hear
another of Henry’s marvellous stories. But Captain Johnson was hungry and
tired.
‘Old
Ben is a great age, as you said,’ began Henry, after a few mouthfuls. ‘He -’
‘Not
another word, please, Henrietta,’ said the captain, curtly. Henry went red and
George grinned, kicking at Dick under the table. Unfortunately she kicked Henry
instead, and the girl glared at her for a whole minute.
‘Oh
dear!’ thought Anne. ‘Just as we’d had such a lovely day! I suppose we’re all
tired and scratchy.’
‘Why
did you kick me'?’ began Henry in a cross voice, as soon as she and George left
the table with the others.
‘Shut
up, you two,’ said Julian. ‘She probably meant to kick me or Dick, not you.’
  George looked mutinous and
went off with Timmy.
Dick
yawned. ‘What jobs are there to do, if any?’ he said. ‘Don’t say there’s
washing-up again. I feel I might break a few things.’
Mrs
Johnson heard him and laughed. ‘No, there’s no washing-up. The woman has come
in to do it tonight. Have a look at the horses - and see that Jenny the mare is
not with Flash, you know she doesn’t like her for some reason, and will kick
out at her. She must always be kept in another field.’
‘That’s
all right, Mrs Johnson,’ said William, suddenly appearing, stolid and competent
as ever. ‘I’ve seen to that. I’ve seen to everything, really.’
‘You’re
better than any stable-boy, William,’ said Mrs Johnson, smiling at him. ‘I wish
you’d take a permanent job here!’
‘I
wish you meant that,’ said William, earnestly. There was nothing he would have
liked better! He went off looking pleased.
‘I
think you’d better all go to bed then, as William appears to have done
everything necessary,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘Any plans for tomorrow?’
‘Not
yet,’ said Julian, trying to stop a yawn. ‘So if you want anything done, we’ll
do it.’
‘We’ll
see what tomorrow brings,’ said Mrs Johnson and said good night. The boys said
good night to the three girls and went off to the stable.
‘Gosh,
we’ve forgotten to undress and wash and everything,’ said Julian, half-asleep.
‘What’s the matter with us at this place? I can’t seem to keep my eyes open
after half-past eight!’
The
next day certainly brought a few things. It brought a letter for Henry that
filled her with disgust. It brought two letters for Mrs Johnson that made her
start fussing and worrying. It brought a telegram for Captain Johnson that sent
him down to the station at once.
Henrietta’s
letter was from two of her great-aunts. They announced that as they would be
near the stables that day and the following, they would like to fetch her and
take her out with them.
‘Blow!’
said Henrietta, ungratefully. ‘Great-Aunts Hannah and Lucy would choose this
very week to come along and see me!  Can’t I phone and say I’m too busy, Mrs Johnson?’
‘Certainly
not,’ said Mrs Johnson, shocked. ‘That would be very rude, Henry, and you know
it. You’re having the whole of the Easter holidays here, and yet you think you
can’t spare two days. As a matter of fact I shall be glad if your aunts do take
you off my hands for a couple of days.’
‘Why?’
asked Henry, astonished. ‘Have I been a nuisance?’
‘Oh
no, but I’ve had two letters this morning telling me that four children are
coming unexpectedly,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘They were not supposed to come till
three of the others left this week-end, but there you are! These things happen.
Where I am to put them I really don’t know!’
‘Oh
dear!’ said Anne. ‘Do you think Dick and Julian ought to go home, Mrs Johnson?
You didn’t plan for them, you know, they just came.’
‘Yes.
I know,’ said Mrs Johnson. ‘But we’re more or less used to that, and I do like
having bigger boys, I must say, they’re such a help. Now let me see. What can
we do?’
Captain
Johnson came in, looking hurried. ‘I’ve just had a telegram, dear,’ he said.
‘I’ve got to go down to the station. Those two new horses have arrived. Two
days before I wanted them - what a nuisance!’
‘This
is one of those days!’ said Mrs Johnson, desperately. ‘Good gracious, how many
shall we be in the house? And however many horses shall we have? No, I can’t
count this morning. I’m all muddle-headed!’
 After all, poor Mrs Johnson had thought that she and George
would have gone home three or four days ago, and instead of that they had
stayed on and the boys had arrived as well!
Anne
hurried to find Julian. He would know what to do. She found him with Dick,
carrying straw for the stables.
‘Julian!
Listen! I want to talk to you,’ said Anne. Julian let the load of straw slip to
the ground, and turned to Anne.
‘What’s
up?’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me it’s a row between George and Henry again, because
I shan’t listen!’
‘No.
Nothing like that,’ said Anne. ‘It’s Mrs Johnson. She’s got four children
coming unexpectedly, before the others go. She’s in a great state about it, and
I wondered what we could do to help. You see, she didn’t expect any of us four
to be here this week.’
‘No.
That’s true,’ said Julian, sitting down on his straw. ‘Let’s think hard.’
‘It’s
easy!’ said Dick. ‘We’ll simply take our tents, some food, and go and camp out
on the moor by some spring. WHAT could be nicer?’
‘Oh
yes!’ said Anne, her eyes shining. ‘Oh Dick, that’s a marvellous idea! Mrs
Johnson will get rid of us all and Timmy too, then, and we would have a lovely
time all by ourselves!’
‘Killing
quite a lot of birds with one stone!’ said Julian. ‘We’ve got a couple of tents
in our kit, Anne. Very small ones, but they’ll do. And we can borrow rubber
sheets to put on the heather, though it’s as dry as a bone, as far as I can
see!’
‘I’ll
go and tell George!’ said Anne, joyfully. ‘Let’s go today, Julian, and be out
of the way before the new children come. Captain Johnson’s got two new horses
coming too. He’ll be very glad to have a few of us out of the way!’
 George was busy polishing some harness, a job she
liked very much. She listened to Anne’s excited tale. Henry was there too,
looking gloomy. She looked gloomier still at the end.
‘It’s
too bad,’ she said, when Anne had finished. ‘I could have come with you if it
hadn’t been for these great-aunts of mine. WHY did they have to come just at
this very moment! Don’t you think it’s maddening?’
Neither
Anne nor George thought it was maddening. They were secretly very pleased
indeed to think that they could once more go off entirely on their own, with
Timmy, as they had so often done before. But they would have had to ask Henry
if her aunts hadn’t written at this very lucky moment!
George
didn’t like to show how delighted she was to think of going off camping on the
moor. She and Anne did a little comforting of poor Henry and then went off to
make arrangements with Mrs Johnson.
‘Well,
that’s a very bright idea of Dick’s!’ she said in delight. ‘It solves a whole lot
of problems. And I know you don’t mind. You’re thrilled at the chance, aren’t
you! It’s really very helpful. I only wish poor Henry could go too, but she
must go out with her old great-aunts. They adore her!’
‘Of
course she must,’ said George, solemnly. She and Anne exchanged a look. Poor
Henry. But really, it would be very nice to be without her for a little while.
Everyone
began to be suddenly very busy. Dick and Julian undid their packs to find out
exactly what was in them. Mrs Johnson looked out rubber sheets and old rugs.
She was a wonder at producing things like that!
William
wanted to go with them and help to carry the things, but nobody wanted his
help. They just wanted to be off and away by themselves, just the Five and
nobody else! Timmy caught the excitement too and his tail thumped and wagged
the whole morning.
‘You’ll
be pretty well loaded,’ said Mrs Johnson, doubtfully. ‘It’s a good thing that
fine weather is forecast, or you’d have to take macs as well. Still, I imagine
you won’t go very far on the moors, will you? You can easily get back to the
stable if you have forgotten anything, or want more food.’
They
were ready at last, and went to find Henry to say good-bye. She stared at them
mournfully. She had changed into a smart little coat and dress. She looked
completely different and very gloomy.
‘What
part of the moor are you going to?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Up the railway?’
‘Yes.
We thought we would,’ said Julian. ‘Just to see where it goes to. And it’s a
nice straight way to follow. We can’t lose our way if we keep near the
railway!’
‘Have
a good time, Henry,’ said George, with a grin.  ‘Well, good-bye. For goodness’
sake don’t stay away too long. Thank goodness you’re all such a hungry lot.
You’ll simply have to come back and get more food in a couple of days!’
They
grinned and left her, Timmy at their heels. They made their way to the moor,
intending to cut out the part of the railway that ran to Milling Green, and
join it some way before that.
‘Now
we’re off,’ said George, contentedly. ‘Without that chatterbox of a Henry.’
‘She’s
really not too bad,’ said Dick. ‘All the same, it’s fine to be on our own, just
the Famous Five together!’
Chapter
Twelve
THE
LITTLE RAILWAY
It
was a very hot day. The five had had their lunch before they started, as Mrs
Johnson said it would be easier to carry that inside than outside!
Even
Timmy carried something.
‘There
now!’ she said. ‘You’ve got your load too. No, don’t try and sniff the biscuits
all the time, Timmy.

They
set off to the railway line, or where they hoped it would be. It took a little
time to discover it running under the heather. Julian was glad. He didn’t want
to walk right into Milling Green to find the beginning of it and then walk all
the way up again!
Anne
found it by tripping over it! ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘here it is! I caught my foot in
a bit of rusty line. Look you can hardly see it!’
‘Good,’
said Julian, and stepped in between the narrow pair of old, rusty lines. In some
places they had rusted away, and there were gaps. In other places the heather
had grown completely over the lines, and unless the children had known that
they must keep straight forward, they would have lost them completely. As it
was they sometimes missed them and once had to do quite a bit of scrabbling
about in the heather to see if they could feel them.
It
was very hot. Their packs began to feel distinctly heavy. Timmy’s biscuits
began to slide round his body and eventually hung below his tummy. He didn’t
like that, and George suddenly spied him sitting down trying to prise open the
bag with his teeth!
She
put down her own pack and adjusted Timmy’s. ‘If only you didn’t keep chasing
rabbits, and making your pack swing about, it wouldn’t slip,’ she said. ‘There
now, it’s all right again, Tim. Walk to heel and it won’t slip any more.’
They
went on and on up the railway lines. Sometimes the rails took a curve round an
unexpected rock. Soon the soil began to look sandy, and the heather did not
grow so thickly. It was easier to see the lines, though in some places the sand
had sifted over them and hidden them.
‘I
really must have a rest!’ said Anne, sitting down in some heather. ‘I feel I
want to pant and hang my tongue out like Timmy!’
‘I
wonder how far these lines go,’ said Dick. ‘It’s so very sandy now underfoot
that I feel we must be getting near the quarry!’
They
lay back in the heather and felt very sleepy. Julian yawned and sat up.
‘This
really won’t do!’ he said. ‘If we fall asleep we’ll never want to start off
with our heavy packs again. Stir yourselves, lazy-bones!’
They
all got up again. Timmy’s biscuits had slithered round to his tummy once more,
and George had to put them right again. Timmy stood quietly, panting, his
tongue hanging out. He thought the biscuits were a great nuisance. It would be
much easier to eat them!
The
sand got deeper and soon there were big sandy patches with no heather or grass
at all. The wind blew the sand up in the air, and the five found that they had
to shut their eyes against it.
‘I
say! The lines end here!’ said Julian, stopping suddenly. ‘Look, they’re
broken, wrenched out of place, the engine couldn’t go any farther.’
‘They
may appear again a bit farther on,’ said Dick, and went to look. But he
couldn’t find any, and came back to look at the lines again.
‘It’s
funny,’ he said. ‘We aren’t at any quarry yet, are we! I quite thought that the
line would run right to the quarry, the trucks would fill up there, and the
engine would pull them back to Milling Green. Where is the quarry? Why do the
lines stop so suddenly here?’
‘Yes.
The quarry should be near here, shouldn’t it?’ said Julian. ‘Well, there simply
must be more lines somewhere! Ones that go to the quarry. Let’s look for the
quarry first, though. We ought to see that easily enough!’
But
it wasn’t really very easy to find because it was behind a great mass of thick
tall gorse-bushes. Dick rounded them and stopped. Behind the enormous spread of
bushes was a great pit, a sandy pit, quarried and hollowed for its beautiful
sand.
‘Here
it is!’ called Dick. ‘Come and look! My word, there’s been some quarrying here
for sand. They must have taken tons and tons out of it!’
The
others came to look. It certainly was an enormous pit, deep and wide. They put
their packs beside it and leapt down. Their feet sank into the fine sand.
‘The
sides are pitted with holes,’ said Dick. ‘I bet hundreds of sand-martins nest
here in May!’
‘There
are even some caves,’ said George, in surprise. ‘Sand-caves! Well, we can
easily shelter here if we have rain. Some of these caves seem to go quite a
long way back.’
‘Yes.
But I’d be a bit afraid of the sand falling in and burying me, if I crawled
in,’ said Anne. ‘It’s quite loose, look!’ She scraped some down with her hand.
‘I’ve
found the lines!’ called Julian. ‘Here, look. The sand has almost covered them.
I trod on a rail and it was so rotten it broke beneath my foot!’
The
others went to see, Timmy too. He was quite delighted with this place. The
rabbit-holes in it! What fun he was going to have!
‘Let’s
follow these lines,’ said Julian. So they kicked away the sand from the rails
and followed them slowly out of the quarry and towards the ends of the other
broken lines.
About
ten yards from these the lines they were following were wrenched apart. Some
were flung into nearby heather, and could be seen there, bent and rusty.
The
children stared at them. ‘I guess the gypsies did that, when the Bartles were
here years ago,’ said Dick. ‘The day they attacked them perhaps. I say look, whatever’s
that great lump over there, with gorse growing over it?’
They
went to see. Timmy saw the lump and couldn’t make it out. He growled warningly
at it.
Julian
took up a broken piece of rail and forced back the gorse bush that had grown
over and around the great lump, almost hiding it.
‘See
what it is?’ he said, startled.
They
all stared. ‘Why, it’s the engine! The little “injin” old Ben the blacksmith
told us about!’ said Dick. ‘It must have run right off the broken lines and
over-turned here, and through the years these great gorse-bushes grew up and
hid it. Poor old engine!’
Julian
forced the gorse back a little more. ‘What a funny old-fashioned affair!’ he
said.  And see, there’s the
small cab. It can’t have had much power, only just enough to puff along with a
few trucks!’
‘What
happened to the trucks?’ wondered Anne.
‘Well,
they would be easy enough to set upright again and put on the rails, and
hand-pushed to Milling Green,’ said Dick. ‘But this engine couldn’t be lifted,
except by some kind of machinery. Not even a dozen men could lift it and set it
on the rails!’
‘The
gypsies must have set on the Bartles in the mist, having first broken up the
lines so that the engine would run off and overturn,’ said Julian. ‘They may
even have used the broken rails to attack them with. Anyway, they won the
battle, because not one of the Bartles ever returned.’
‘Some
of the villagers must have gone to see what became of them and have got the
trucks back on the lines and pushed them to Milling Green,’ said George, trying
to reconstruct the long-ago happenings in her mind. ‘But they couldn’t do
anything about the engine.’
‘That’s
about it,’ said Julian. ‘My word, what a shock for the Bartles when they saw
the gypsies creeping out at them from the mist, like shadows!’
‘I
hope we don’t dream about this tonight,’ said Anne.
They
went back to the quarry. ‘This wouldn’t be a bad place to camp in,’ said Dick.
‘The sand is so dry and so soft. We could make lovely beds for ourselves. We
wouldn’t need the tents up, either, because the sides of the quarry shelter us
beautifully from the wind.’
‘Yes.
Let’s camp here,’ said Anne, pleased. ‘There are quite a lot of nice holes to
store our things in.’
‘What
about water?’ asked George. ‘We want to be fairly near it, don’t we? Timmy,
find some water! Drink, Timmy, drink! Aren’t you thirsty! Your tongue looks as
if it is, the way you are hanging it out like a flag!’
Timmy
put his head on one side as George talked to him. Water? Drink? He knew what
both those words meant! He ran off, sniffing the air. George watched him.
He
disappeared round a bush and was away for about half a minute. When he came
back George gave a pleased shout.
‘He’s
found some water!  Timmy, where is it?’
Timmy
wagged his tail vigorously, glad that George was pleased with him. He ran round
the bush again and the others followed.
He
led them to a little green patch and stopped.  The water fell from it into a
little channel it had made for itself in the sand, ran away for a short
distance, and then disappeared underground again.
‘Thank
you, Tim,’ said George. ‘Julian, is the water all right to drink here?’
‘Well
I can see some that is!’ said Julian, pointing to the right. ‘The Bartles must
have put a pipe in that bank, look, and caught another spring there, a much
bigger one. It’s as clear as can be. That will do fme for us!’
‘Good,’
said Anne, pleased. ‘It’s hardly any way from the quarry. It’s as cold as ice,
too - feel!’
They
felt, and then they drank from their palms. How cold and pure! The moor must be
full of these little bubbling springs, welling up from underground. That
explained the brilliant green patches here and there.
‘Now
let’s sit down and have some tea,’ said Anne, unpacking the bag she had
carried. ‘It’s too hot to feel really hungry.’
‘Oh
no, it isn’t,’ said Dick. ‘Speak for yourself, Anne!’
They
sat in the sunny quarry, the sand warm to their legs. ‘Far away from
everybody!’ said Anne, pleased. ‘Nobody near us for miles!’
But
she wasn’t quite right. There was somebody much nearer than she thought!
Chapter
Thirteen
A
NOISE IN THE NIGHT
It
was Timmy who first knew there was somebody not far off. He pricked up his ears
and listened. George saw him.
‘What
is it, Tim?’ she said. ‘Nobody is coming here, surely?’
Timmy
gave a tiny growl, as if he were not quite sure of himself. Then he leapt up,
his tail wagging, and tore out of the quarry!
‘Where’s
he gone to?’ said George astonished. ‘Gosh, here he is, back again!’
 She was
not quite sure of her welcome and crawled up to the children on her tummy,
looking more like a hearthrug than ever!
Timmy
leapt round her in delight. She might have been his very best friend, he was so
delighted! George patted the funny little dog and Julian looked thoughtful.
‘I
hope this doesn’t mean that we are anywhere near the gypsy camp,’ he said.
‘It’s quite likely that the lines might end somewhere near them. I’ve rather
lost my sense of direction.’
‘Oh
goodness, I do HOPE we’re not near their camp!’ said Anne, in dismay. ‘Those
old-time gypsies must have camped pretty near to the Bartles’ quarry before
they attacked them, so perhaps the present camp is near too.’
‘Well,
what’s it matter if it is?’ said Dick. ‘Who’s afraid of them? I’m not!’
 And in the silence they
heard an all-too-familiar sound.
Sniff!
Sniff!
‘Sniffer!’
called George. ‘Come on out, wherever you are hiding. I can hear you!’
A
pair of legs stuck out from a great clump of heather at the edge of the quarry,
and then the whole of Sniffer’s wiry little body slithered out and down into
the sand. He sat there, grinning at them, half-afraid to come any nearer in
case they were cross with him.
‘What
are you doing here?’ said Dick. ‘Not spying on us, I hope?’
‘No,’
said Sniffer, ‘Our camp isn’t very far away.  I followed her.’
‘Oh
blow. We hoped we weren’t near anyone else,’ said George. ‘Does anyone at your
camp know we’re here.’
‘Not
yet,’ said Sniffer. ‘But they’ll find out. They always do. I won’t tell,
though, if you don’t want me to.’
Dick
tossed him a biscuit.  ‘We’re
not interfering with anyone and we don’t want anyone interfering with us. See?’
Sniffer
nodded. He suddenly put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the red and white
hanky that George had given him. It was still clean and beautifully folded.
‘Not
dirty yet!’ he said to George.
‘Well,
it ought to be,’ said George. ‘It’s for your sniffs. No don’t use your
coat-sleeve.’
Sniffer
simply could not understand why he should use a beautiful clean hanky when he
had a dirty coat-sleeve. He put the hanky carefully back into his pocket.
Liz
ran to him and fawned on him. Sniffer fondled the peculiar little creature, and
then Timmy went over and played with them both. The four finished their tea,
threw Sniffer one last biscuit, and got up to put their things away safely. Now
that Sniffer was about, and the gypsy camp near, they didn’t feel it was
terribly safe to leave anything unguarded or unhidden.
‘Scoot
off, now, Sniffer,’ said Julian. ‘And no spying on us, mind! Timmy will know
immediately you arrive anywhere near, and come hunting for you. If you want to
see us, give a whistle when you get near. No creeping or slipping into the
quarry. Understand?’
‘Yes,’
said Sniffer, standing up. He took the hanky from his pocket again, waved it at
George, and disappeared with Liz at his heels.
‘I’m
just going to see exactly how near to the gypsy camp we are,’ Julian said. He
walked to the entrance of the quarry and up on to the moor. He looked in the
direction that Sniffer had gone. Yes, there was the hill in the shelter of
which the gypsies had their caravans. It wasn’t more than a quarter of a mile
away. Blow! Still, it was far enough for the gypsies not to discover them,
unless by chance.
‘Or
unless Sniffer gives the game away,’ thought Julian. ‘Well, we’ll spend the
night here, anyway, and we can move off somewhere else tomorrow if we feel like
it.’
They
felt rather energetic that evening and played a ball game in the quarry, in
which Timmy joined wholeheartedly. But as he always got the ball before anyone
else did they had to tie him up in order to get a game themselves. Timmy was
very cross. He turned his back on them and sulked.

Nobody
wanted much supper. Julian took a little aluminium jug to the spring and filled
it once for everyone. It really was lovely water from that bubbling spring!
‘I
wonder how Henry’s getting on,’ said Anne. ‘Spoilt to bits by her great-aunts.
I expect. Didn’t she look odd in proper clothes, gloves and all!’
‘Yes,
she ought to have been a boy,’ said Dick. ‘Like you, George,’ he added hastily.
‘Both of you are real sports, plucky as anything.’
‘How
do you know Henry’s plucky?’ said George, scornfully. ‘Only by her silly tales!
I bet they’re all made-up and exaggerated.’
Julian
changed the subject. ‘Shall we want rugs tonight, do you think?’ he said.
‘Rather!
It may be warm now, and the sand is hot with the sun, but it won’t be quite so
nice when it’s gone down,’ said Anne. ‘Anyway we can always creep into one of
those cosy little caves if we feel chilly. They’re as warm as toast. I went
into one, so I know.’
They
settled down quite early to sleep. The boys took one side of the quarry, the
girls the other. Tim, as usual, was on George’s feet, much to Anne’s
discomfort.
‘He’s
on mine too,’ she complained to George. ‘He’s so long, he stretches over my
feet as well. Move him, George.’
So
George moved him, but as soon as Anne was asleep he stretched out again and lay
on both girls’ legs. He slept with one ear open.
He
heard a scurrying hedgehog. He heard all the rabbits out for a night-time game.
He heard the frogs in a far-off pool croaking in the night. His sharp ear even
heard the tinkle of the little spring outside the pit.
Nobody
moved in the quarry. There was a small moon but it gave very little light. The
stars that studded the sky seemed to give more light than the moon.
Timmy’s
one open ear suddenly pricked itself right up. Then the other ear stood up too.
Timmy was still asleep but his ears were both listening very hard!
A
low, humming sound came slowly over the night. It came nearer and nearer. Timmy
awoke properly and sat up, listening, his eyes wide open now.
The
sound was now very loud indeed. Dick awoke and listened. What was that noise?
An aeroplane? It must be jolly low! Surely it wasn’t about to land on the moor
in the dark!
He
woke Julian and they both got up and went out of the quarry. ‘It’s an aeroplane
all right,’ said Dick, in a low voice. ‘What’s it doing? It doesn’t seem to be
going to land. It’s gone round in a low circle two or three times.’
‘Is
it in trouble, do you think?’ asked Julian. ‘Here it comes again.’
‘Look,
what’s that light over there?’ suddenly said Dick, pointing to the east. ‘See,
that sort of glow. It’s not very far from the gypsies’ camp.’
‘I
don’t know,’ said Julian, puzzled. ‘It’s not a fire, is it? We can’t see any flames
and it doesn’t seem to flicker like a fire would.’
‘I
think it may be some sort of guide to that plane,’ said Dick. ‘It seems to be
circling round and about over the glow. Let’s watch it.’
They
watched it. Yes, it did seem to be circling round the glow, whatever it was,
and then, quite suddenly it rose in the air, circled round once more and made
off to the east.
‘There
it goes,’ said Dick, straining his eyes. ‘I can’t tell what kind it is, except
that it’s very small.’
‘What
can it have been doing?’ said Julian, puzzled. ‘I thought the glow might have
been to guide it in landing, though where it could land here in safety I simply
don’t know. But it didn’t land at all, it just circled and made off’
‘Where
would it have come from?’ said Dick. ‘From the coast, I suppose, from over the
sea, do you think?’
‘I
simply don’t know,’ said Julian. ‘It beats me! And why should the gypsies have
anything to do with it? Gypsies and planes don’t seem to mix, somehow.’
‘Well,
we don’t know that they do have anything to do with the plane, except that we
saw that glow,’ said Dick. ‘And that’s going now, look.’
Even
as they watched, the bright glow died completely away. Now the moor lay in
darkness again.
‘Funny,’
said Julian, scratching his head. ‘I can’t make it out. It’s true that the
gypsies may be up to something, the way they come out here secretly, apparently
for no purpose at all, and also they don’t want us snooping round, that’s
clear.’
‘I
think we’d better try and find out what that glow is,’ said Dick. ‘We could
have a bit of a snoop tomorrow. Or perhaps Sniffer could tell us.’
‘He
might,’ said Julian. ‘We’ll try him. Come on, let’s get back into the quarry.
It’s cold out here!’
The