The Circus of Adventure (5 page)

‘It is bad to call me that,’ said Gussy, frowning. ‘In my country you would . . .’

‘Oh, gee-up, donkey, and stop braying,’ said Philip, giving Gussy a shove. ‘Leave your satchel behind, if you like. No one will mind. It’s got your lunch in, but nobody else’s! We’re carrying the girls’ lunch, and Bill’s got Mother’s. You’ve only got your own.’

‘So chuck it into the bushes, then you won’t have to carry it like a donkey,’ said Dinah, with a squeal of laughter. ‘Go on, Gus!’

But Gus didn’t. He thought better of it, and took the satchel of food on his back, though he looked extremely sulky about it.

Sugar-Loaf Hill was just like its name—it was very like a sugar-loaf, cone-shaped but flat at the top, and was covered with primroses, cowslips and dog-violets.

‘We ought to be able to see quite a good way from the top,’ said Jack, as they toiled up. It was a stiff pull up but at last they were at the top. A strong breeze blew round them, but the sun was hot, so it was very pleasant to feel the wind blowing by.

‘I say! Gussy carried his lunch after all!’ said Jack, pretending to be surprised. ‘My word, I’m hungry.’

They all were. They ate every single thing they had brought, and Kiki had a good share too, especially of the bananas. She loved holding a banana in one foot and biting big pieces off it.

Gussy sneezed. Kiki immediately sneezed too, a much bigger sneeze than Gussy’s. Then Gussy sniffed, a little habit he had which annoyed Mrs. Cunningham very much.

Kiki sniffed too. ‘Stop it, Kiki,’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘One sniffer is quite enough.’

‘Polly’s got a cold,’ said Kiki, and sniffed again, exactly like Gussy. Gussy took no notice but after a minute he suddenly sniffed again.

‘Blow your nose!’ shouted Kiki. ‘Where’s your hanky! Gussy’s got a cold, send for . . .’

‘Be quiet, Kiki,’ said Jack. ‘Gussy, don’t keep sniffing. If you do, you’ll set Kiki off and she’ll do nothing but sniff too.’

‘I do not sniff,’ said Gussy. ‘That bird is wicket and too clever. It should have a cage.’

‘Shut up, Gus,’ said Bill, who was now leaning back, enjoying a pipe. ‘Remember what I said to you.’

Gus apparently remembered. He subsided and lay back and closed his eyes. The others sat and looked at the view. It was marvellous, for they could see a great way off.

‘That’s the village over there,’ said Philip, pointing. ‘And there’s the farm-house. And you can just see the tops of the chimneys and a bit of one end of the thatched roof belonging to Quarry Cottage. In those trees, look.’

‘And there’s the road we came by—the main road,’ said Jack. ‘Where are my field-glasses? Pass them, Di. Gosh, I can see miles with these. I can see the way the main road twists and turns; I can see the traffic on it—looking just as small as the toy cars we used to have, Philip. Have a look.’

Philip put the glasses to his eyes. They really were magnificent ones. He could see for miles, just as Jack had said. ‘Yes—it’s queer to see the cars and the lorries looking like toys, going along those ribbony roads,’ said Philip. ‘Now—there’s a black car—rather like Bill’s. I’m going to watch it and see how far I can follow it.’

The others lay back, half asleep, listening to Philip’s voice. The sun was hot now, and they didn’t feel inclined to go walking after such a big picnic.

‘Yes—it’s on the main road still,’ said Philip, staring through the glasses. ‘There it goes—a good speed too. Jolly good speed. May be a police car, perhaps.’

‘You can’t tell a police car so far away,’ said Jack. Bill looked up from his newspaper. He knew a lot about police cars!

‘Tell me its number and I’ll tell you if it’s a police car,’ he said. The boys laughed.

‘That’s clever of you, Bill,’ said Jack, ‘but you know jolly well you’re safe—we can’t possibly read the number at this distance. Still got the car, Philip?’

‘Lost it for a bit,’ said Philip. ‘It’s gone behind some buildings—no, there it is again. It’s come to cross-roads—it’s, gone across. Now it’s stopped.’

Gussy gave a little snore which Kiki immediately copied. Philip went on with his car story.

‘A man got out—I think he must have gone back to look at the sign-post. He’s got into the car again. Yes, they missed their way, they’re backing. Ah, I thought so—they’ve turned down the other road—the road that leads to our village.’

‘You’ll tell us it’s at Quarry Cottage next,’ said Jack, sleepily. ‘You’re making all this up now, I bet!’

‘I’ve lost it again. No, here it comes,’ said Philip, pleased. ‘Yes, it’s going through the village—down into the lane. It’s stopped again. I think they’re asking the way from someone—a labourer probably. Can’t see from here. On they go again—and they’ve turned up the farm-road! They’re going to the farm-house. Probably rich relations of Mrs. Ellis.’

Bill put down his paper abruptly and reached out for the glasses. He focused them on the farmhouse and saw the car immediately—a big one, obviously expensive. He studied it intently for a minute and then handed back the glasses without a word.

‘Do you know the car, Bill?’ asked Jack, curiously, seeing Bill’s expression.

‘No,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t. But—it just makes me think a bit, that’s all. Sorry I can’t tell you any more. I’ll wander up to the farm-house tonight and ask a few questions—then I’ll know a bit more!’

Chapter 7

A SURPRISING ANNOUNCEMENT

Philip and Jack were more interested in the car, after Bill’s remarks. They took it in turns to keep an eye on it, but it simply stayed where it was for twenty minutes, and then went away, taking the same route as it came.

‘It’s gone, Bill,’ said Philip. ‘I expect it was only some visitor. I say, look at Gussy! His mouth is wide open. Let’s put something into it.’

‘Let sleeping donkeys lie!’ said Jack. ‘And don’t put ideas into Kiki’s head! She’ll hunt around for something now to pop into Gussy’s mouth.’

Philip looked round at everyone. Only Bill and Jack were awake besides himself. He put his hand into his pocket and brought out something—something small and brown and pretty. It sat up on his hand.

‘I say! You’ve got a dormouse! What a pet!’ said Jack. ‘Don’t let Dinah see it—she’ll have a fit.’

‘I got it on the way here,’ said Philip. ‘I saw it sitting on a branch, and it let me pick it up.’

‘It would!’ said Jack, enviously. ‘You’ve got some magic about you, Philip. I’ve never seen an animal yet that didn’t come under your spell. Isn’t he a pretty little fellow?’

‘I’ve called him Snoozy,’ said Philip, stroking the tiny creature, whose large black eyes shone like mirrors in his head. ‘Dormice are very dozy, snoozy things. I must remember to buy some nuts from the grocer’s next time we go to the village. Snoozy will like those. We won’t tell Dinah. He’ll live comfortably in my pocket. I’ve had dormice before—they’re very tame.’

‘How nice to keep putting your hand in your pocket and feeling a furry dormouse there!’ said Jack. ‘Hallo—do I hear voices?’

The boys looked in the direction of the voices. They saw two men, obviously farm-labourers, taking a path near the foot of the hill, talking together.

‘I think I’ll just scoot down and ask them if they know anything about badgers here,’ said Philip. ‘Coming, Jack?’

The two boys ran down the hill. The men heard them coming and looked round. ‘Good afternoon,’ panted Jack. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a question or two? It’s about badgers.’

‘Badgers—what may they be?’ said the younger man.

‘Eee, man—you know badgers,’ said the older man. ‘Brocks, they be.’

‘Oh, the brocks,’ said the younger fellow. ‘No, I don’t know nothing about them. Never seed one in my life.’

‘That’s a-cause you sleeps in your bed every night!’ said the other man, with a laugh. ‘Brock, he comes out at night. I sees him many a time.’

‘You’re an old poacher, you are, Jeb,’ said the younger man. ‘Out at nights when honest folk are asleep. That’s how you see the brocks!’

‘Maybe, maybe,’ said the older man, with a twinkle in his bright eyes. He turned to the boys. ‘What are you wanting to know about the brocks?’ he said.

‘Well—I’d like to watch them,’ said Philip at once. ‘I’m keen on wild creatures—all kinds. I’ve not had much chance of seeing badgers, though. Where can I see them around here? We’re at Quarry Cottage.’

‘Ah, so that’s where you be,’ said the old man. ‘Then you’ll find old Brock not far away from you, little master. You may see him in the woods on the east side of the cottage—that’s the most likely place—or you may see him down in the old quarry. I saw a badger’s sett there—his den, you know—last year. I knew he had his hole down there by the big pile of earth he’d taken out of it.’

‘Yes—that’s right. He always does that,’ said Philip, wishing he could get to know this old fellow. He felt sure that he would be able to tell him many tales. ‘Well, thanks very much. We’ll watch in both places.’

‘There’s owls in the quarry too,’ said the old man. ‘Little owls, and barn-owls and tawnies. They go there for the rats and mice. I’ve heard them—the barn-owls—screeching their heads off. Frighten the life out of you, they do!’

‘I know,’ said Jack, making up his mind at once that he would go and watch in the quarry. He liked owls very much. Perhaps he could get a young one and tame it. But he’d have to be careful not to let it see Snoozy the dormouse. That would be the end of Snoozy!

The boys walked off together, exploring the cone-shaped hill. A shout from above attracted their attention.

‘Jack! Philip! We’re going back in a minute. Are you coming with us, or do you want to follow sometime later?’

‘We’ll come now,’ shouted Jack, and he and Philip began to climb up towards the others. They found Gussy awake but scowling. He spat something out of his mouth as they came up.

‘Manners, manners!’ said Jack, reprovingly.

‘He says somebody popped bits of grass into his mouth,’ said Dinah, with a giggle. ‘So he keeps on spitting them out. Did you put them in, Jack?’

‘No,’ said Jack. ‘And Philip didn’t either.’

‘There you are!’ said Dinah, triumphantly, turning to the sulky Gussy. ‘Nobody put anything in your mouth when you were asleep. You’re just making it all up. I bet you chewed a bit of grass yourself.’

‘I did not,’ said Gussy. ‘It was a wicket thing to do. It nearly chocked me. I was chocked.’

‘Choked, you mean,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Well, it’s a mystery. Nobody did it—and yet you were nearly “chocked” with grass. Don’t spit any more. You can’t have any left in your mouth now.’

Jack and Philip threw a quick look at one another. They knew quite well who had played this trick on poor Gussy. Gussy saw the look and rounded on them. ‘You know who did it! I saw you look!’

‘All right. We know who did it,’ said Jack. ‘A jolly good trick too. We thought of doing it ourselves, you looked so silly with your mouth wide open, snoring.’

‘I do not snore,’ said Gussy. ‘And tell me who did it.’

‘Come on,’ said Bill. ‘I expect it was old Kiki. She’s done it before—to me! Can’t you see a joke, Gus?’

Gus suddenly exploded into his own language. He stood there, shaking his long hair back, his face scarlet, and a string of incomprehensible words coming from his mouth. Nobody understood a thing.

Kiki was intensely interested with this string of what sounded like gibberish. She sat herself on Jack’s shoulder, near to the angry Gus, and listened intently. When he stopped for breath, she continued on her own.

‘Gibberollydockeryblowykettlefussy-gussy,’ she began, and poured out strings of nonsense into which she wove many of the words she knew, mixed up with ones she didn’t! Everyone roared. It sounded exactly as if Kiki was talking to Gus in his own language.

Gus was silenced. He stared at Kiki, amazed. ‘Does she spik English now?’ he demanded. ‘What does she spik?’

‘She’s spikking a lot of nonsense, like you!’ said Jack. ‘Be quiet, Kiki. Don’t show off!’

Bill and Mrs. Cunningham had already set off down the hill. The girls followed, giggling. Gus was annoying but he really did provide them with a lot of amusement.

Gus followed them at last, shaking back his long hair defiantly. He spat now and again as if he still had grass in his mouth, and Kiki copied him with joy, going off into cackles of laughter every now and again.

It was about half-past five when they got back to Quarry Cottage. ‘If any of you want tea after that enormous lunch, will you please get yourself a glass of milk, and some biscuits?’ said Mrs. Cunningham. ‘Or a bit of fruit-cake if you feel real pangs of hunger?’

All the five children apparently felt real pangs, for they raided the larder and reduced the fruitcake to a mere fragment of itself. They also drank all the milk, much to Mrs. Cunningham’s dismay.

‘Now we’ve none for your cocoa tonight or for breakfast tomorrow!’ she said.

‘I’ll get some at the farm when I slip up this evening,’ said Bill. ‘It will be a good excuse to go up and ask a few questions.’

‘Any mystery on?’ enquired Dinah. ‘I’m never sure about you, Bill! Even in the middle of a holiday I always wonder if you’ve got a hush-hush job on as well.’

‘Mystery or not, Bill always keeps his eyes open!’ said Philip. ‘It’s part of your job, isn’t it, Bill?’

‘Let’s play a game,’ said Dinah. ‘Where are the cards? Let’s play Racing Demon. Do you play it, Gus?’

‘I play it,’ said Gus. ‘I played it at school last term. I am good with this game. Very good. I go as fast as this.’

He pretended to be putting cards down, and was so vigorous that his hair fell over his eyes. He pushed it back. He was always doing that, and it got on Dinah’s nerves.

‘Your awful hair!’ she said. ‘You ought to be a girl.’

‘Now don’t start anything,’ said Jack. ‘A spark is enough to set him off. Talk about being touchy! Don’t glare like that, Gus, you make me shake at the knees!’

‘Poof!’ said Gus, rudely.

‘Poof!’ said Kiki at once. ‘Poof, poof, poof!’

‘That’ll do,’ said Jack. ‘One poofer is quite enough in the family. Got the cards, Di? Oh, good!’

They were soon sitting in a ring on the floor, playing Racing Demon. Kiki couldn’t understand the game at all and wandered off into a corner because Jack wouldn’t let her pick up any of the cards.