Читать книгу Five go to Mystery Moor - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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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.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” said George. “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. It was an ugly little thing but its patient brown eyes were lovely.

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 supper-bell 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 supper-table 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.

“Look there—it’s that gypsy—Sniffer’s father!” said Julian

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—rrrrumph—rrrrumph! rrrrumph—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 lay snuggled there, eyes shut and ears asleep too. He got as tired as everyone else, running tirelessly 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 awoke 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?”