Wings Over Witchend, page 12
He groaned again at the thought that the thieves were again at work. He tried to remember all that Peter had told him about the discovery of an uprooted tree in the ditch on the main road, and of the lift given to her and the Morton twins on the night of their arrival.
It was darker now and he must have been dozing when he was roused by the sound of voices in the room below him. He heard someone poking the stove and the sound of metal clinking and then again the smell of cigarette smoke. He was too cold and weak to roll over to the hole in the floor and to his horror realized that there was not much fight in him. Then suddenly he heard the sound of a step, the crunch of breaking wood and a man cursing.
'That's another of the rotten stairs gone," he heard distinctly, and then the more cultured voice of the leader saying:
"Give me the light. I'll go first."
Gibbs made a desperate effort and struggled to his knees in the straw as heavy steps came upstairs. Then with the scraping of a bolt the door was opened. The flood of yellow light from an oil lantern dazzled him and he closed his eyes. When he looked up he saw that the bigger of the two men, who was holding the hurricane lamp, was dressed in a leather coat with a big sheepskin collar and long boots, and was obviously the man he had seen through the hole in the floor standing by the stove giving orders. He was looking down at him quizzically and with rather a shock Donald saw that he was good-looking and well groomed. The other man, who was carrying a steaming bowl, was a very different type and looked as if he'd been born to obey orders.
Donald felt suddenly giddy and swayed sideways. The big man stepped forward and hauled him back against the wall so that he could sit upright,
"Don't trouble to abuse me, Mr. Gibbs," he said quietly. "Although there is no need for you to know my name I have taken the liberty of acquainting myself with yours. I borrowed your wallet when you were - er, resting, shall we say? Here it is. Waiting for you when you are able to use your hands again."
He threw the wallet into the straw and then turned to the man behind him.
"Put that bowl on the floor and fetch me three blankets. And if there's any hot water in that kettle on the stove bring some in a bowl or in the biggest mug we've got."
Donald croaked something abusive as the man came nearer to him and held the lantern high.
"Please listen to me," he went on quietly. "You won't do yourself any good by shouting or making a fuss, and it's no use struggling because the man who tied these knots is an expert... Please keep still while I examine this bump on the back of your head... Dear me, Mr. Gibbs. What have you been doing?"
"Keep your hands off me," Donald roared as he struggled again with the cords at his ankles and wrists. "You'll be sorry for this when you're caught. They're after you now."
The man stepped back and regarded him sadly.
"You'll feel better if you don't work yourself into a passion, Mr. Gibbs. I would like you to understand now that I regret that bump on your head very much. Please accept my apologies, but under the present difficult circumstances it was necessary. When my man comes up with some hot water I'll attend to it and I do hope, most sincerely, that when it is cleaned up you will be in less pain. I am extremely sorry, but I am forced to detain you in these rather squalid surroundings for not more than forty-eight hours.
"To-morrow I hope to give you some congenial company. One of your fellow-foresters, to be precise, and I hope that he will give us as little trouble as you did... Ah! Here is Henry... If you keep still, Mr. Gibbs, I should like to put these blankets round you. I fear you are very cold. I really am sorry but we have so few amenities here."
Gibbs gave up. Exhausting his strength in a hopeless struggle with two men was ridiculous, and he now believed that the boss had no wish to do more than keep him a prisoner.
Henry put down two large mugs of hot water and handed over three blankets.
"Just examine the knots, Henry, and then tuck our friend up as cosily as possible. Have you a handkerchief, Mr. Gibbs?"
"Side pocket," Donald grunted and then, as he realized the humour of the situation, tried a smile.
The big man then lifted the lantern and carefully examined his head. Then, as soon as Henry had tested the knots of the cords with which he was bound and wrapped him in the blankets, he took Donald's handkerchief and gently bathed the back of his bruised and aching head.
"You'll not be much worse in the morning, Gibbs. The bruise is quite clean now, but I'll bind the handkerchief round it."
Donald found himself grunting his thanks. It was certainly a very odd situation!
Then they fed him with hot soup and chunks of bread and he felt much better. Henry was sent for a second bowl and Donald heard the sound of voices downstairs, but not what was said. The other stranger was obviously the pilot. With the second bowl of soup came some corned beef. He chewed this ravenously as it was fed to him by Henry and felt his strength returning.
'Take my advice," the leader said. "Don't try to escape. It is waste of your time to work on the knots. It may be some hours before we come to see you again and I'm afraid that the time may drag for you..."
At that moment Donald heard the sound of an approaching car. From below came a muffled shout which sounded like, "Car coming. Lights out."
Donald took a deep breath as Henry blew out the hurricane lamp. Then, as the car came nearer, he shouted with all his strength:
"Help! Help! I'm a prisoner in the cottage. HELP!"
Before he could shout another word the two men were on him. The big man struck him across the mouth so that his bruised head crashed against the wall and then, snatching the handkerchief from his head, he gagged him savagely while Henry drew the ends taut and knotted them.
9. Night Adventure
Peter, with her hand on Sally's bridle and with David and Tom beside her, stood in the Ingles lane in the moonlight and watched Mr. Burton trudging back towards Witchend.
"He's a rum sort of chap," David said. "Fancy coming all this way to see Dad and Mr. Ingles and then not being able to spare another ten minutes to do so. I should have thought he'd have been more excited about those tracks of the rubber wheels we've just seen in the snow than anything else. What really shook him was your news about Gibbs going off with the police, Peter."
"It shook me too," Peter said indignantly. "I wonder whether he's wild because Donald - Mr. Gibbs, I mean - went off like that by himself without telling any of the other foresters? Anyway, I'm tired and cold and I do want Mr. Ingles to look at Sally's leg."
"Sorry, Peter," David said. "Of course you're tired. I just want to see whether Burton is going into Witchend or not... No, he isn't. He's going straight past the gate. I wonder whether he'll stop to look at those tracks?"
"He's too far off for us to see anyway." Tom shrugged. "Let's go."
Five minutes later David and Peter were in the Ingles kitchen while Tom took Sally round to the stables. Peter went out with Mr. Ingles while David explained to Mrs. Ingles that Peter and he must go back to Witchend for a meal as soon as possible.
"Have you had any more curious visitors to-day?" he went on. "We came down with one of the foresters who wanted to ask Mr. Ingles to volunteer to help guard the forest from Christmas tree thieves. He's rushed back now but he'll be down again to-morrow."
Mrs. Ingles began to lay the table.
"Nobody has been and none likely in this weather, David. Mr. Ingles was fighting mad with that lah-di-da chap yesterday... Peter looks tired, David. What have you all been doing today? Seems to me you're very late."
David was saved from answering that awkward question by the return of Tom, who came in stamping his feet and blowing on his hands.
"Hullo, Aunt Betty. I'm cold and starving as usual. Don't know how it is, David, but I can hardly ever get enough to eat in this house... Nothing much wrong with Sally, Uncle says. He's fussing over her with Pete and binding up that sprain. Says she might have been badly lamed if Peter had ridden her... Thoughtful girl, that!"
He spoke without the flicker of a smile, and although David opened his mouth to make a sharp reply to his last remark, he realized in time that Tom was pulling his leg. A few minutes later Peter came back with Mr. Ingles and confirmed the news about the pony.
"We mustn't stay, thank you, Mrs. Ingles. We haven't been in to Witchend yet, and Agnes will be annoyed if we keep supper waiting." Then she turned to the farmer and thanked him again for looking after Sally. "We'll see you in the morning," she went on. "Thanks for rescuing me, Tom, and will you remind Mr. Ingles about volunteering as a forest guard before Mr. Burton or one of the others turn up in the morning."
"How much are we going to tell the grown-ups, David?" Peter said. "P'raps we'd better not say too much about me being lost in the blizzard. It was just bad luck really. Of course, if they ask we'll tell them, but what I mean is, are they to know about everything that's happened?"
David nodded. "Dad will volunteer, of course, and then I suppose the foresters will tell him what they know and all about the old track we came down to-night. It's odd that we never really explored that before, Pete... I think we'd better tell them the whole story. There'll be an uproar from the twins, of course, because they haven't been asked to do anything special, but we can get over that. They were really rather bright over following that woman Primrose up that path to the top. Where does she fit in to all this, Pete?"
Peter yawned. "I'm so tired, David, that I can hardly think. I've got some ideas about Primrose, but let's talk about it all to-morrow."
At Witchend, when they were sitting round the table, David encouraged the twins to tell them about their adventures on their sledges. Dickie was not to be fooled by this.
"We'll tell you the things we've done and the places we've been, David, but what everybody here wants to know most is what you and Peter have been doing."
"And Thomas, too," Mary put in. "Thomas doesn't like us and we'd just like you all to know that to-day we've been utterly deserted by you three and what's more we've been jolly thankful. We wouldn't have been able to do the things we've done with Eskimos and discovering South Poles and trekkin' for hundreds of miles over trackless, icy wastes with you three interferin' all the time. Isn't that right, twin?"
Richard nodded but didn't speak because his mouth was full of hot sausage.
So David told them of their visit to the forestry headquarters and of how worried the foresters were because they had not enough men to guard the nurseries of young trees. He would rather have told his father alone because, as he had feared, his mother was quick to see the implications of his story.
"I can see what all this is leading up to and I'm going to say my piece now. We came up here for a holiday and to spend Christmas in a place we love. The twins have been ill and need a little extra care for a week or two - and don't look so smug, you two! I'm sorry for the foresters and I hope the thieves are caught quickly, but really all this is nothing to do with us and I do hope that you're not all going to get mixed up in it."
Mrs. Morton went rather pink as she finished speaking and her husband cleared his throat to break an awkward silence. For the rest of the meal they talked about Christmas presents and letters to be written, and Peter told them that her father was safely at Seven Gates and that she was sure they would all be welcome there for at least one day of the holiday if the snow was no worse.
Eventually the twins went off to bed and when their mother came downstairs again Mr. Morton pulled chairs for them all round the fire and said, "Now that those two are out of the way, we'd better talk this business over again. David and Peter seem to know more about it than any of us, and if it is true that we are going to be asked to help the foresters we'd better make up our minds before the morning. I'll go down and see Alf Ingles after breakfast, but what happened to that chap the twins knocked over? He said he was a forester, didn't he?"
"He is a forester," David explained. "His name is Burton, and although he's only been up there about six months, he's very keen. He took Tom and me up the fire tower this afternoon, and I may as well tell you now, Dad, that they would like us to spend a night up there watching for the thieves. Mr. Burton was keen on some of us doing that and said it would be a great help. He dashed back to headquarters just now because Peter found some tracks in the snow, which we think prove that the thieves are bringing the stolen trees in hand-trucks right down past this house."
"There was another thing, too, Mr. Morton," Peter said. "I was out in the forest this afternoon with Donald Gibbs. He's the deputy to Mr. Hardwick and he went off suddenly in a police car on the Portway. We told Mr. Burton and that was another reason why he wanted to hurry back. I suppose he thought that something must be happening that he didn't know about. But that's why he didn't come back and ask you to-night."
Mrs. Morton looked up from her knitting.
"Then we'd all better wait until tomorrow, hadn't we?"
"We can wait until some more trees are stolen, of course, Mum," David said. "Three of the foresters are ill and that only leaves three and Mr. Hardwick to guard the forest. None of them is having enough sleep and the police don't seem to be able to do more than just patrol the roads... Of course, the risks to the thieves may now be so great that they won't come again. They must know that somebody is on their trail now, but I think we all ought to help the foresters, if we can. I know you really think so too, Dad, and Mr. Ingles will do anything to help. Tom and Peter and I want to help too, if we can. We went up there to-day and offered to help them, but of course I told Burton and Mr. Hardwick that we must have your permission."
"I suppose there's no reason why some of you shouldn't go up that tower if the foresters want you to do so," Mrs. Morton smiled rather grudgingly. "You'd be out of trouble there, I hope. And what about Peter? We're responsible for her and I really don't think she ought to be mixed up with these thieves and the police."
Peter leaned across and put her hand over Mrs. Morton's.
"Please don't worry about me. You wouldn't really want me to stay at home and look after the twins while the others are helping, would you?"
Mrs. Morton looked at her affectionately. "No, darling, I suppose I wouldn't, but I did just want to have a happy, domestic sort of Christmas."
Her husband laughed. "So you will, my dear. The thieves haven't much time left. There are only five days to Christmas, and they'll have no time to market the stolen trees after to-morrow. I shouldn't think they would, anyway. What do you think about all this, Agnes? You haven't had much to say."
Agnes looked at them all over the tops of her spectacles.
"Folk round here don't hold much with these foresters. We never asked them to come here. They may be pleasant enough but they don't belong. Don't often see them in Onnybrook, and there's plenty round here says they've spoiled the Mynd. All the same," she added grudgingly, "it's all wrong to come stealing the young trees. 'Tis my idea that Primrose Wentworth woman has got something to do with all this. She was a bad lot."
Peter laughed and got up.
"I think so too, Agnes. We'll find her out soon. I know lots of people round here don't like the foresters but that isn't fair."
"Quite right, Peter," Mr. Morton said. "We can't do anything to-night because the foresters haven't told us what they'd like us to do... You'd better go to bed, Peter. You can't stop yawning."
"I could sleep for twelve hours," she admitted as she kissed Mrs. Morton. "Good night all."
The bedroom was warm, for Agnes had left the little oil stove burning after Mary had gone to bed. Peter went to the window before she undressed and opened it wide. It was very cold and the moon was up. She looked up into the star-spangled sky across which a few clouds were drifting, and thought of the glider. There was surely enough wind for a skilled pilot to keep a glider airborne and enough light for him to see to land? She yawned again, closed the window all but two inches and went over to Mary's bed. In her sleep she looked like a cherub on an old-fashioned Christmas card and Peter smiled to herself because she knew how easy it was to be fooled by the twins - and not only by their innocent appearance.
Just before she dropped off she remembered how she had felt when leading lamed Sally across the Mynd in the blizzard without knowing where she was, and again of the shock of hearing her peewit's cry - the secret signal of the Lone Piners - repeated as she stumbled down the ride in the blinding snow. She remembered that she had thought it an echo or imagination because it was what she wanted to hear, and then the reality was actually David running towards her. She sighed happily as she remembered how lucky she had been to-day. Dimly she heard the others coming up to bed and then she slept.
She did not dream. She was wakened by something tickling her face, a hand on her mouth and a whisper in her ear.
"Peter! Peter - please, please wake up and don't make a noise."
Mary was leaning over her, shaking her now and flashing the torch, which she kept under her pillow, in her face.
"Peter! You're awake now, aren't you? Listen, Peter. I think something exciting is going to happen. I know Dickie is awake too. Sometimes this happens to us and then we know that the other twin is awake too."
Peter sat up in bed and reached for her jersey. She was suddenly wide awake too.
"Listen," Mary whispered through chattering teeth. "I can hear somebody outside. It's Dickie. I know it is." She ran over to the door as Peter slipped out of bed and put on her dressing gown. Slowly the door opened and Dickie's tousled head appeared.
"Goodo," he whispered. "I thought you'd wake up too. David's here. We're coming in and we've got Mackie."
"Light a candle, Peter," David whispered as he gently closed the door behind them. "Sorry about all this but I've got some news. You two kids wrap yourselves in that eiderdown and keep the dog quiet. We dare not wake the others."
