Wings Over Witchend, page 11
"We're having quite a day," Tom whispered. "I reckon we've run into trouble now. If they turn round they'll see us. Maybe the gang is getting to work again?"
"Get behind Sally and don't move," David breathed. "I don't think it's the gang, unless they're pulling more trees up now and are coming to collect them later. We never thought of that one, did we?"
They strained their eyes through the gloom but could not see anybody although the flash of the torch came again from further away. Then Sally shook her head and her bridle jingled but that was the only sound to break the silence.
Then David whispered again:
"I think we're just about where the ride up from headquarters joins this one and I believe the owner of the torch has gone down into the forest. Let's go ahead carefully and see if there are any fresh footprints in the snow."
Peter sighed. She had had enough adventures for one day and wanted nothing so much as the comfort of Witchend.
"Was it a man or a woman, Tom? If it's a man it might be one of the foresters, and if it's a woman it might be that crazy Primrose. She seems to be spending a holiday up here."
Tom didn't know, but as both boys seemed to be sure that the stranger was something to do with the gang and that this was their chance to help the foresters Peter said no more.
About eighty yards down the track their ride was joined on the left by another, running downhill towards headquarters. There were fresh footprints leading out of this ride, into the one in which they were standing and then away downhill to where the nursery was bounded by a line of bushes.
"We came up that track through the trees," Peter whispered. "And I s'pose that's the way you followed me? Why has this chap gone off down there?"
"Let's find out," David replied. "Take Sally now, Peter, while Tom and I go ahead and explore. Stay here till we come back."
"Mind you do come back. Don't go off in a police car!" Peter said feelingly.
There was no need for the boys to hide because if anybody was on guard in the shadows they would already have been seen. Peter watched them following the footprints down the hill until the shadows of the undergrowth swallowed them up. She waited and watched and in a few minutes Tom came running back.
"We've found something, Pete. Behind those bushes there's quite a wide track - sort of continuation of this ride. If we hadn't had that chap's footsteps to follow, though, we'd never have found it. Come on. David's gone ahead because we thought we saw the torch again."
"This must be the hidden track the twins found, Tom? They followed Primrose up this and it leads down to Witchend. I don't care who it is in front now because we're on the way home."
She hurried on through the snow which now showed two sets of footprints. The track, running sharply downhill, was arched with trees and very dark. Peter stumbled once or twice and, at a corner where the banks were five or six feet high she bumped into David.
"Steady, Peter," he whispered. "You're breathing down my neck. He's not far ahead now, but I don't know who he is. He's a little man but he doesn't seem to be doing anything suspicious. More often than not he shines his torch on the ground."
"Maybe he's looking for tracks in the snow, too," she suggested.
"I want to know who this chap is and where he's going," David said stubbornly as he went forward again. "Don't you think he's sinister, Peter? I do."
"Not really. Although I'm tired I'm still curious."
At the next corner, while they were waiting for the mysterious stranger to get further ahead, Tom and Sally caught them up.
"Moon's up," he whispered. "It's going to be another good night for the gang."
David led them forward again and at the next corner they saw the lights of Witchend below them on the left. As they came out of the shadow of the trees Peter stopped and pointed to the ground. "Look at these. They're the tracks of rubber tyres. I suppose it was too dark to see them under the trees... David! I'm sure they're the same as those I saw with Donald on the ride where the little trees were stolen."
Tom interrupted before David could answer.
"Just a sec. You can see that chap now. He's almost opposite Witchend. We've got to find out what he's doing down here."
Peter was rather annoyed because neither of the boys seemed excited about her discovery of the wheel tracks, but in the moonlight she now saw something unexpected. Just opposite Witchend's gate where the path led up the side of the larch wood, the hillside, between the lane and where the trees began, was smooth and steep. At the top of this slope she could see what looked like two black beetles. Then they began to move. Then they were hurtling down the steep slope towards the stranger on the path below.
"It's the twins," Peter shouted. "They're racing on their sledges. They'll hit him."
At the sound of Peter's voice the man stopped and turned. Then the silence was broken again by screams and yells of warning from Dickie and Mary as they rushed headlong down towards the unsuspecting stranger.
He turned too late. One toboggan overturned in a cloud of snow while the other whizzed on like a rocket and hit him as he tried to dodge it. Two sledges, the twins, a barking dog and a strange man were mixed up together in the snow! Tom let go of Sally and dashed forward, and Peter and David followed, leaving the pony to look after herself. Tom was a good runner and was the first on the scene. The twins picked themselves up, laughed at each other, and then looked at their victim, who was sitting up rubbing his head with one hand, and clearing the snow from his collar with the other.
Tom gave him one glance and turned to meet the other two.
"Fine lot of fools we are!" he gasped as they dashed up. "We've been following Mr. Burton," and before any of them could answer him Witchend's door opened and Mr. Morton came out just as the twins went into action.
"We don't know who you are," Mary said in her clear little voice, "but we're sure you're very, very dangerous. You might have hurt us very badly appearin' suddenly like that... You ought to have a bell to ring or red lights on or something warning... Are you all right, twin, in spite of this dangerous man? I s'pose you know that my twin saved your life when he tried to stop?"
Burton, looking slightly dazed, continued to remove snow from his neck.
He spat some snow from his mouth and rather unsteadily got to his feet as Mr. Morton arrived.
''What's going on here?" he said. "Glad to see Peter and you, David. You've been out a long time." Then, to Burton, "I hope these two rascals of mine haven't hurt you."
Then David stepped forward and introduced the two men.
"Mr. Burton took us up the fire tower this afternoon and Mr. Hardwick wants some of us to volunteer as guards at night, to guard the young Christmas trees which are being stolen from the nurseries. He wants Tom and me to watch in the fire tower."
Burton smiled ruefully and shook hands with Mr. Morton. "I've come to no harm, thanks, although I may be suffering from shock. It's as your son says, Mr. Morton. I came down to see whether you and perhaps Mr. Ingles could spare some time to help us."
Mr. Morton looked puzzled.
"I've heard something about your troubles, but you'd better come in and talk it over. Indeed, you'd better all come in - specially you twins."
Peter explained that Sally was lame and that she wanted Mr. Ingles to see her at once and so, after some discussion, Burton said he would walk down the lane to the farm with the others and call at Witchend on the way back.
"And I'll walk down with Peter and Tom, Dad," David said. "We won't be long."
So reluctantly the twins dragged their sledges with lagging feet towards the house, muttering to themselves that they were being kept out of things, while their father closed the gate.
Peter took Sally again as Burton, quite sharply, spoke to the two boys.
"What on earth are you two supposed to be doing? I thought you'd gone straight back to Witchend?"
"We didn't," David replied. "I told you we were going to meet Peter and it's just as well we did. She was lost in that blizzard on the top of the Mynd after your friend Mr. Gibbs went off in a police car."
Burton stopped.
"What are you talking about? What police car?"
Peter told him. She had not forgiven Donald and she didn't spare him.
"He went off without a word and left me," she went on. "If it hadn't been for David and Tom anything might have happened to me. I expect you'll see him before I do, so perhaps you'll tell him something. I'm sure he'll be interested to know this. When I went up the ride through the nursery with him this afternoon we saw tracks in the snow of rubber-tyred wheels. We thought they were made by a trolley which the thieves are using to take the Christmas trees away. We've just seen the same tracks about a hundred yards back just where the path comes out of the wood. Did you see them?"
"Were you three behind me, then?"
David laughed. "Yes, we were. And suspicious of you too. We were just coming down the ride when we saw your torch and we thought we'd better trail you. But you see what Peter means about those wheel tracks, don't you, Mr. Burton?"
"I do indeed. You're all very smart, aren't you? Did you actually see the police in that car on the Portway, Peter?"
"No, I s'pose I didn't. I wasn't near enough and the light was bad. But it was a black car with radio and I'm sure Donald - Mr. Gibbs, I mean - saw policemen in it. He said he wanted to talk to them privately."
"No doubt he'll have some important news for us by now, then. I think I'll get back as soon as I can and come and see Mr. Ingles and Mr. Morton another time. We'll get in touch to-morrow, and so will you please explain why I feel I should go back at once... And let us know to-morrow whether you two chaps will do a night turn in the fire tower. That would be a real help... Good night all."
8. Wildmoor Cottage
As Donald Gibbs hurried across the snow towards the big black car which pulled up on the Portway, he realized that he had just been rather abrupt with Peter, whom he liked and admired very much.
He had told her the truth when he said that he wanted to use her knowledge of the Mynd. She had lived all her life on the mountain and except when she was at school she spent most of her time on it. He knew too, although he hadn't told her, that Mr. Hardwick was annoyed with the police because they were not doing more to help the foresters, and their sudden appearance in the car obviously meant that they were really making some effort to patrol the roads. Donald was fairly sure, too, that there was likely to be trouble on the Long Mynd before the thieves were caught, and it was obvious that the police would not want to say much in front of a schoolgirl, but this did seem to be a good opportunity to tell them about the tyre tracks Peter and he had just seen on the nursery ride.
The windows of the big car were closed and misted over, but when he was within a few yards the rear door opened and a man in a belted coat and a soft hat stepped out into the snow.
"Afternoon," he smiled. "You're one of the foresters, aren't you? Good. We were hoping to see one of you chaps and were coming down to your headquarters presently. Come inside out of the cold and have a look at our map. We're a bit puzzled about one of the tracks shown on the west side of the hill."
He held the door open and Gibbs stepped forward and put one foot inside the car. In that second he sensed that something was wrong but was too late to save himself. The man behind him pushed him in the back and as he stumbled forward into the gloom of the big car something struck him violently on the head. He tried to cry out but there was nothing but a roaring in his ears and flashing lights before his eyes. He was falling, falling into a horrible darkness - and that was all.
Slowly, slowly he climbed out of the black pit of pain as consciousness returned. His head throbbed like the pulse in an aching tooth, only a thousand times worse. He could actually hear the throbbing like the engine of a tractor. As he moved his head the pain brought back memory and he groaned through clenched teeth as he remembered how easily he had been fooled.
He drew a deep breath and with it a cold, musty smell mingled with the scent of burning tobacco. He was bitterly cold and his wrists and ankles were bound. When his eyes got used to the subdued light he realized that he must be lying on a heap of musty straw in an unfurnished room.
Suddenly the throbbing stopped and he heard the murmur of distant voices. Then he closed his eyes again and tried to relax and gain strength. He clenched his teeth to stop them chattering. He fought back another wave of faintness and then, with a terrific effort he rolled over and struggled to his knees. The rope with which he was bound cut into his ankles and wrists and the pain in his head throbbed up again.
There was just enough light coming through the gaps between the boards covering what once had been a window for him to see where he was. The room was obviously on the upper floor of a partially ruined house and the light was moonlight. Except for the pile of straw the place was bare. The murmur of voices went on and seemed to come from below. He shuffled round on his knees and saw a gleam of yellow light from the floor in a corner of his prison and guessed that there must be a hole in the floor boards.
The corner was not more than six feet away, but it took him several minutes to get there because he realized that he must not make a noise. He tried first to shuffle along on his knees and then, afraid that he might topple forward, he lay down again and wriggled inch by inch towards the hole. It was about five inches across and luckily was not right in the corner. By lying on his side he was able to listen more easily than he could look, so after he had seen all he could he settled down with his ear to the hole. All that was visible of the room below was an old-fashioned iron stove and the legs of two men sitting on the floor on each side of it. While he watched another man moved in front of the stove, but Donald could only see part of him and not his face. This man was well-dressed in a short leather coat, breeches and high leather boots. It was difficult to tell how many men were in the room, but he guessed that there must be at least six.
As he could see no more he moved his head and put his ear to the hole and was just in time to hear what must be the opening and closing of a door. In the silence that followed he heard a new voice say, "She's up again, boss. Easy launch. Thinks she can stay up for an hour. Have you made contact yet?"
Then, in a flash, Donald realized where he was and what was happening. He was a prisoner in Wildmoor Cottage which was being used by the thieves as a base. Easy launch meant that the gang were using a glider and the throbbing noise he had heard was the engine of the winch winding up the cable and hauling the glider into the air. Then he remembered that Peter and he had seen a red-winged glider almost as soon as they had come out of the forest to the top of the mountain. But why should the gang use a glider, the sailing of which must be both difficult and dangerous in the dark in winter? And was there any connection between the glider they had seen and the sudden appearance of the car on the Portway?
Then he found the answer to both questions. The men in the room below were suddenly quiet, so that he could hear one voice distinctly. Somehow he knew that this voice belonged to the man in the leather coat who was their leader.
"Are you all right up there? Good. Is there enough moonlight for you to see the rides? Good. Can you get up enough to see the Plowden road? Tell me what you can see."
A long silence as Donald's mouth went dry with excitement. There was no doubt now. They were using "walkie-talkie" radio and the pilot of the glider was the eyes of the gang. No wonder they could strike quickly. No wonder their lorries could dodge the police.
The boss was speaking again, this time to the men around him.
"She says there's no sign of anything moving in the forest, but the moon will be down in two hours and she can't guarantee to stay up much longer... First four of you get moving at the top end and work quickly. There aren't so many of the foresters available now, and if there's only one of them guarding the top nursery you should be able to deal with him. And don't be too polite either as we pack up for good to-morrow night. If he's misguided enough to show fight, tie him up and gag him and then put him on the trolley and cover him with trees... If you get real trouble two of you had better stay behind to deal with whoever has found you and the others clear out with the truck. Whatever happens, don't give away the short route we're using down to Ingles. All clear?"
A murmur of voices followed, then a shuffling of feet and clink of metal. Then the boss spoke again.
"George knows where to drop you. You'll all hear from me to-morrow but lie low until you get your orders. Get moving quickly now and you'll see me later when we've got the glider down... And keep quiet about our visitor upstairs. I'll look after him and we hope that he'll have at least one companion with him to-morrow."
And then silence as Donald, feeling sick with the bitter cold and the pain in his throbbing head, rolled away from the hole. He was shivering violently and was sure that if there was still anybody in the room below they could hear his teeth chattering. He saw, too, how dull the foresters had been not to discover that the thieves had been moving the trees on some sort of a truck down the old track past Witchend and Ingles to the main road. Peter had said something about the Morton twins finding this track but he had no idea that it existed.
For a few minutes he struggled to loosen the ropes round his wrists, but he was too weak and the knots too strong for him to make any impression on them. All that he managed to do was to break the skin.
Then he heard footsteps below and the opening and closing of a door and guessed that for the first time he was alone in the cottage. He must then have dozed for a few minutes and was roused by a curious whistling noise above the house. This was followed by the throbbing of the engine he had heard earlier and he guessed that the glider was down again.
For what seemed like hours but can only have been minutes, he watched the bars of moonlight on the wall of his prison. They moved as the moon moved and soon, he realized, he would be in complete darkness until the dawn. The cold was intense and his body shivered uncontrollably. Although his head still ached, what hurt most was the knowledge that he had been so easily duped. Then it occurred to him that the glider pilot had seen the two of them crossing the Mynd and reported by radio to the car, which might have been anywhere in the district. It was all so easy if the weather was suitable for the glider to get up, for everyone was used to seeing gliders over the Mynd.
