Wings Over Witchend, page 6
"Why do they crawl in backwards?"
"I've seen pictures of them. An' if not backwards it's because they look practically the same back or front, if you know what I mean."
Mary nodded as if she did know, but this was one of the very few occasions when she had no idea what her twin was talking about. Then she, too, jumped off the gate and followed Dickie across the farmyard into Mrs. Ingles' kitchen.
"And now what are you going to do, my dears? 'Tis fine and bright and you should be out o' doors getting rid of those coughs... And if you can wait ten minutes there'll be a batch of hot cakes ready for you to try."
"One of the things we love so very much 'bout you, Aunt Betty," Mary began as she sidled round the table, "One of the lots of lovely things is that you seem to know exactly what it is we want to do most... Just now, after we'd seen Peter and Tom off on their long an' weary journey, my twin an' me said we wanted to get rid of our coughs by going out exploring."
"Explorers have got to carry food with 'em," Dickie said practically. "And if you could spare us a little to take with us and some paper and matches, we're going to build a snow-hut like the Eskimos in a secret place."
"Bless my soul! I never knew such a pair o' rascals! I'll give you enough to keep yourselves alive, but perhaps you can tell me what Eskimos eat? Do they eat hot buns?"
"Not too many," Dickie said. "They eat something special. They eat rubber."
Mrs. Ingles' mouth opened with astonishment. "Now you're being silly, young man. You're trying one o' your tricks on me. Rubber indeed! "
"Blubber, he means." Mary laughed triumphantly. "His school isn't as good as mine. I don't know what it is, but I think it's fat, and I hate the sound of it... But if you could give us a little something like Dickie said, that would be wonderful."
"Come along, then. Come into the pantry with me and let's see if we can find something instead of Mary's blubber... But whatever you do and wherever you go you must promise me that you'll tell Agnes."
They promised her that Agnes should know, and twenty minutes later they were crossing the farmyard again. Dickie had a bundle of dry newspapers and some matches in his pocket, while Mary carried a large parcel of explorers' rations and Macbeth pranced happily beside them. As soon as they were out of sight of the farm Mary stopped and put the parcel on the ground.
"If you've got a pencil, twin, I think it would be better if we wrote a letter to Agnes 'bout all this. There were some sheets of paper on Aunt Betty's dresser I just borrowed. Agnes is very, very nice, but p'raps she wouldn't quite understand about Eskimos and the fire we're going to make at our camp... We'll write a letter and just slip it under the door an' surprise her, Dickie."
"You mean she might surprise us by saying 'No' if we told her first, don't you, Mary? That would be a pity. Give me the paper. I'll write it. I've got a pencil."
He fumbled in the pocket of his duffle coat, and crouched under the hedge and pencilled this message.
"Dear Agnes, Please do not worry about us as we are very well and quite safe, and by the time you read this we will be quite near to you, and acksherly we are really guarding Witchend and you. We have been to Ingles and Aunt Betty has helped us to be explorers with food. There is plenty of food for us, so we shall not starve and we shall be warm. We shall be warm although we are Eskimos building their snow-hut, and you might see the smoke of our camp fire watching over you. So do not worry as we have our dinner, but if it snows badly we shall come home.
"With love from Richard and Mary Morton.
"P.S. Macbeth is safe with us as he may have to draw our sledge over the trackless, icy waists."
"It's very long," was Mary's wise comment. "I s'pose we had to say it all, but it's really only the bit about not worrying that she wants to know about... You take the blubber now and go up the side of the wood so that she doesn't see you if she looks out of the window, and I'll creep up and put it under the door... And take Mackie, too."
Dickie nodded and called the dog as his sister ran ahead up the lane towards Witchend. Just before he reached the gate he turned to the left and began to climb the hill by the edge of the larch wood. As soon as he was high enough he dodged between the trees and looked down at their house in the valley and was amused to see Mary crawling under the wall so that she could not be seen from any of the downstairs windows. This meant that she had safely delivered the note, so he waited for her as she came panting up the hill. Mackie ran to meet her and she rested against a tree trunk for a few minutes to recover her breath.
"Did you see her, Mary?"
"No, but I could hear her humming a hymn like she does, so I expect she's happy enough. Come on. I can see the Lone Pine now, so let's hurry."
"That's all right, but we don't really want Agnes to know where we are, do we? If she comes to the door just stand quite still, twin. She won't notice us then."
The site of the Lone Pine camp, which had been discovered by Mary and Peter together, was a flat clearing on the hillside about a hundred yards from the edge of the larch wood. On three sides it was surrounded by gorse and only from above where the bracken was thick could it be seen or approached. In the centre of the little clearing was the lonely pine tree standing like a sentinel above the valley. From its branches it was possible to see not only Witchend and its yard and garden, but down the lane to Ingles half a mile away.
The twins struggled on up the steep slope at the edge of the wood, but the snow was so slippery that they soon found it easier under the trees, where they filled their pockets with twigs and cones for the fire. At last they were level with the Lone Pine, and after another twenty yards they were in the camp itself.
"Careful!" Dickie hissed. 'There might be footprints. There might be an enemy lurkin'. I always think that when we come back again."
But there were no footprints, and the ground was covered by no more than a sprinkling of snow. Their fire-place - the shallow trough dug in the turf with two flat stones on each side of it - was still there, and so were the cold ashes of the last fire of the summer holidays. All else was as tidy as they had left it, and the end of the rope which they used for pulling themselves up into the tree was still coiled neatly round the trunk.
Mary leaned against the tree and put her hands behind her head.
"This is the most wonderful place we've ever found, twin, and I don't believe we've ever been here by ourselves before. Let's do something special, but let's light the fire first. Or shall I climb the look-out and look out?"
"It's a crows' nest," Dickie said. "We could be a ship stuck in the Arctic ice, couldn't we? And we could be rescued by Eskimos like I said, but it's going to be difficult to build a snow hut here 'cos there isn't enough snow. Where's Mackie?"
"Hunting. He'll get thorns in his paws. He's gone under those gorse bushes. Wolves, I expect. I'll climb up to the crow's nest while you light the fire."
She undid the rope and pulled herself up to the lowest branch on which she stood and looked down into the valley. At the bottom of the hill was the stream where they got their water, and beyond that was Witchend itself, looking like a toy model. On the branches of the larch trees the frozen snow sparkled in the pale sunlight and beyond the wood she could see the roofs of Ingles half a mile down the lane. From Witchend's chimney came a haze of blue smoke, but she was too far away to smell it. There was no sign of Agnes or any other sign of life.
"We're marooned here, captain," she called down to Dickie. "The cowardly crew have left us here to starve, captain. I can see the icebergs a' closing in on us. There's whales and things frisking fiercely round those old bergs. What are we going to eat, captain?"
Dickie looked up in surprise. They didn't often talk like this when they were alone together, and he thought she was doing it rather well, and he liked being called captain, too.
"We'll live on our 'mergency rations, mate," he replied out of the side of his mouth. "I'm unpacking 'em now. Come down from aloft and smash open these cases. We must make a fire afore the cold eats into our bones."
Mary slid down the rope.
"Buck up with the fire, Dickie. I asked Aunt Betty for some potatoes to roast and those'll keep our bones warm."
With a few twists of paper, some twigs and the dry cones the fire burned up brightly with one match, and while Mary unpacked the food parcel Dickie ran back to the wood for more fuel. And as soon as the ashes were really glowing they thrust in four big potatoes to roast in their jackets. The hill sheltered them from a cool breeze from the south-east and they were warm enough in their duffle coats as they crouched round the fire munching Mrs. Ingles' sandwiches. Soon they forgot about being marooned sailors with icebergs closing in round them and talked about Christmas presents and whether they could invent a play which they could all act to the family on Christmas Day.
They were sucking their scorched fingers after putting butter into the first pair of roast potatoes when they heard a curious whistling sound overhead. Almost before they could move, an odd-looking shadow raced across the snow-covered hillside, and they looked up to see a glider swooping over the treetops.
"Don't move, twin," Dickie whispered, as if the pilot could have heard them. "We don't want anybody to see us here. I'd like to fly like that. You could see everything up there if you went high enough... All the Mynd and Hatchholt and all the valleys and what everybody is doing. We'd look like miserable little ants, I s'pose."
Mary watched the glider soar away out of sight beyond the mountain.
"So we would, twin. Like little ants. I don't think I'm keen on that. I like to see people full size," and with this profound observation she puffed steam from her mouth in an effort to cool the portion of hot potato on her tongue.
They piled more wood on the fire, and when they had finished their meal Dickie climbed into the crow's nest to see if the rescue party was yet in sight crossing the icepack. They were not. He saw something so unexpected that he could hardly believe his eyes.
"There's somebody spying about outside Witchend," he whispered hoarsely.
Mary looked up as Mackie, who was enjoying a biscuit, suddenly growled.
"Keep Mackie quiet," Dickie hissed. "Stay where you are, twin, and don't let him bark... It's a strange woman skulking there. Not Agnes... Don't let the fire smoke, Mary. Nobody must see us. I'll tell you about it in a sec."
Mary clutched Mackie as he coughed over the biscuit crumbs and looked up at her twin standing on the branch.
"She'll see you if she looks up, won't she, Dickie? Who is it? Why don't you tell me? I can hear you, but she can't."
For a moment Dickie made no answer, but when he slid down and stood beside her he looked wildly excited.
"Pack up everything quick!" he hissed. "We're going to have an adventure, twin. We've got to follow her. Put Mackie on the lead and don't make a noise. We've got to hurry."
"But who is it?" Mary whispered. "Tell me, Dickie. Who is it we've got to follow, and why?"
"Listen, Mary. I'm sure the woman skulking down there is that Primrose Wentworth. She's wearing the same clothes. She was crouching down behind the wall so that nobody in the house could see her, and now she's gone off by herself up that path under the trees. She's up to something sinister, and we've got to see where she's going."
Mary clipped on Mackie's lead.
"What path? Do you mean the path from the back door where Agnes found her last night?"
"Come on, Mary. We'll have to slide down the hill and cross the stream without her seeing us. She's gone up that other old path - the one that's all grown over with brambles. Do you remember we tried to explore it in the summer?"
Mary nodded. She was remembering that only last night she had dreamed that they were going to have an adventure, and this might be it. If they could find out what this woman was doing so stealthily they would certainly have something to boast about.
"Come on, then. But where does that old path lead, Dickie?"
"P'raps we'll soon know. We mustn't let her see us." They slipped and slithered down the hill by the side of the larch wood and turned to the left into the sunken track down which Dickie had seen Primrose hurrying a few minutes ago.
As soon as they were out of the sun they shivered and pulled up the hoods of their duffle coats. Mackie tugged on his lead and they found it difficult to be quiet because twigs cracked under their feet. The path they were following was almost a tunnel and the branches of the trees overhead had kept the snow from the ground. Suddenly it broadened out and Dickie, who was in front, stopped in astonishment.
"But we never knew this path was here, Mary. We never got so far before. It's a sort of secret road - and it's quite wide now."
"So it is." She looked up at the gloomy pine trees. "This is the sort of forest woodcutters use. The sort of wood that Hansel and Gretel were lost in. It's funny that it's so near Witchend and that we've never explored it. I don't think I like it much... Yes. It's quite wide enough for a woodcutter's cart, isn't it?"
"Don't be so soppy, Mary. Keep a tight hold on Mackie, and let's run as far as we can see ahead until we come to a corner."
Their feet made no sound on the pine needles and Mackie, seeming to realize their excitement, behaved himself and ran quietly, too. They were soon out of breath because the bumpy track led them steadily uphill, but at last it turned sharply to the left and Dickie stopped a few yards from the corner.
"I'll crawl ahead and see if she's in sight," he whispered. "Stay there and keep Mackie tight on the lead."
With wildly thumping heart Mary watched her twin pretending he was a Red Indian on the trail. As he crept forward on hands and knees, keeping well in to the side of the track behind some bushes, she knelt too and put her arms round Mackie.
"Be good, Mackie. We're trusting you to guard us." He wagged his tail as if he understood, and when she looked up again Dickie was racing back towards her.
"There's another corner not far ahead, but I can see a burning cigarette end, Mary. She must be quite near. We'll have to go carefully now."
"I can't remember whether Primrose smokes, Dickie. Did you see her with a cigarette last night?"
"I can't remember, but of course it's her. Buck up."
Five minutes later, when it was Mary's turn to crawl at a corner, she saw that they were right. About fifty yards ahead Primrose Wentworth, with only a very slight limp, was striding forward with the help of a stick. There was no mistaking her. Mary turned to make a signal of triumph to her brother when Mackie growled and gave a short, sharp bark. She flung herself flat on the pine needles while Dickie fell on poor Macbeth, so that his warning bark collapsed like a burst balloon. Primrose turned round while Mary prayed that the ground would swallow her up. She dared not move and try to roll further into the bushes, but when at last she raised her head an inch or two and looked up, Primrose was already nearly out of sight again.
Macbeth was very contrite when Dickie let him up with the most awful threats that if he did that again he would be tied to a tree and left until they came back that way - if they ever did.
"We've got to find out what she's doing," he whispered. "This is another adventure just for us, so come on. Stick it."
They were very careful because Primrose was now only about two hundred yards ahead. Now they were out of the dark wood it was much lighter and there was some frozen snow underfoot. Another corner. Dickie crawled forward five yards and then raced back again.
"There's some blackberry bushes right across the path, but I can see her head. We've got up to the forest. There's millions of little Christmas trees in long rows each side of the path and she's looking at 'em. An' while I was watching her and wishing that I'd got a telescope she turned round and looked straight at me, just as if she could see me behind the bushes. Why should she want to come limping all the way up here just to look at a trillion little trees?... Shall we go on?"
"I'm tired," Mary admitted. "All the same, I think we'd better know where she's going... P'raps to the foresters' camp? We must be quite near that, twin, but we've never been before, have we? Let's go a bit farther, anyway... I think Mackie is tired, too. His legs are so short..."
But they were to be much more tired before their adventure was over!
Primrose no longer seemed to be in a hurry, but it was difficult to follow her because there was so little cover on each side of the wide track. They were afraid she might look round, but she didn't. She was too interested in the thousands of little trees growing in straight rows like soldiers on parade.
"It's funny that we've never been up this way before," Dickie whispered. "Peter has told us about the forest, of course, but I don't believe that she knows about that old path leading up to it... An' we don't know where the foresters' cottages are either."
Mary's teeth were chattering.
"We can't be far from the top of the Mynd now, Dickie. And if it's only those baby trees she wants to see, she might turn round and come back the same way. What shall we do then? It's getting late, too. And I'm cold."
Dickie looked at her in surprise. She was usually the leader, and this didn't sound at all like her. He knew that it would be much more sensible to turn back now, but he was very curious about Primrose.
"We'll go back if you like, twin, but remember what we shall be able to tell the others. I don't really want to tell them we got tired and went home just when Primrose was sort of super sinister. Let's follow her for ten more minutes, anyway. Even if she does come back she can't do anything to us. We're just out for a walk lookin' at trees like she is."
Mary nodded and clenched her teeth and they went on cautiously up the side of the broad track. Soon they left the nurseries of young trees behind and reached a part of the forest where the trees were nine or ten feet high. Here the track had been freshly ploughed, but farther on there was dead bracken under the trees. Primrose was still just in sight when Dickie said, "If she threw another cigarette in that bracken it would burn like anything. That's why they plough it up, of course. We didn't think of that, did we?"
