Читать книгу Five Get Into a Fix - Enid blyton - Страница 6

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The four children slept like logs all night long. If they coughed they didn’t know it! They lay in their beds, hardly moving—and only Timmy opened an eye occasionally, as he always did on the first night in a strange place.

He jumped when a burning log fell to one side in the fireplace. He stared sternly at a big bright flame licking up the chimney, as the log burned fiercely. He cocked up an ear when an owl hooted outside the window.

But at last he too fell asleep, lying as usual on George’s feet—though old Mrs Jones would not have approved of that at all!

Julian awoke first in the morning. He heard the sounds of the farm coming through the closed window. Shouts of one man to another—the lowing of cows—the barking of one dog after another, and then all together—and the peaceful sound of hens clucking and ducks quacking. It was nice to lie and hear it all, feeling warm and lazy.

He looked at his watch. Good gracious, it was almost nine o’clock! Whatever would Mrs Jones think of them. He leapt out of bed, and awoke Dick with the quick movement.

‘It’s almost nine!’ said Julian, and went to the wash-stand. This time there was only cold water in the big china jug, but he didn’t mind. The bedroom was still warm with the burnt-out wood-fires. The sun shone outside, but in the night the snow must have fallen heavily, for everywhere was white.

‘Good,’ said Julian, looking out. ‘We shall be able to use our toboggans soon. Wake the girls, Dick.’

But the girls were already awake, for Timmy had heard the boys stirring, and had gone whining to the door. George stretched herself, feeling quite different from the night before.

‘Anne—how do you feel? I feel really fine!’ said George, pleased. ‘Do you know it’s nine o’clock? We’ve slept for more than twelve hours. No wonder we feel better!’

‘Yes. I certainly do too,’ said Anne, with an enormous yawn. ‘Oh look, I’ve made Timmy yawn too! Timmy, did you sleep well?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, and pawed impatiently at the door. ‘He wants his breakfast,’ said George. ‘I wonder what there is. I feel rather like bacon and egg—goodness, I thought I’d never feel like eating that again. Brrrr—this water’s cold to wash in.’

They all went downstairs together and found their living-room warm with a great wood-fire. Breakfast was laid, but only a big crusty loaf, butter and home-made marmalade were there, with an enormous jug of cold, creamy milk.

Mrs Jones came in almost at once, beaming at them. ‘Well, good morning to you now,’ she said, ‘and a nice morning it is too, for all the snow we had in the night. What would you be wanting for breakfast now? Ham and eggs—or home-made pork sausages—or meat patties—or ...’

‘I’d like ham and eggs,’ said Julian, at once, and the others said the same. Mrs Jones went out of the room, and the children rubbed their hands.

‘I feared we were only going to have bread and butter and marmalade,’ said Dick. ‘I say, look at the cream on the top of this milk! Me for a farm life when I grow up!’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, approvingly. He kept hearing the other dogs barking, and going to the windows to look out. George laughed at him. ‘You’ll have to remember you’re just a visitor, when you meet those dogs,’ she said. ‘No throwing your weight about, and barking your head off!’

‘They look pretty big dogs,’ said Dick, joining Timmy at the window. ‘Welsh collies, I should think—they’re so good with the sheep. I say—I wonder what that dog was that barked at us so fiercely last night, behind that gate at Old Towers? Do you remember?’

‘Yes. I didn’t much like it,’ said Anne. ‘It was rather like a nasty dream—losing our way—going up that steep hill—only to find that horrid notice on the gates—and nobody to ask the way—and then that hidden dog barking ferociously just the other side of the gates! And then the car crawling down the hill in that strange way.’

‘Yes. It was a bit queer,’ said Dick. ‘Ah—here comes our breakfast. Mrs Jones, you’ve brought in enough for eight people not four!’

She was followed by an enormous man, with a mass of black hair, bright blue eyes, and a stern mouth.

‘This is my son Morgan,’ she said. The four children looked at the giantlike man in awe.

‘Good morning,’ said Julian and Dick together, and Morgan nodded his head, after giving them one quick look. The girls gave him polite smiles, and he nodded at them too, but didn’t speak a word. He went out at once.

‘He’s not much of a one for talking,’ said the old woman. ‘Not my Morgan. But the voice he’s got when he’s angry! I’m telling the truth when I say you could hear him a mile away! Sends the sheep skittering off for miles when he shouts!’

Julian felt that he could quite believe it. ‘Those are his dogs you can hear barking,’ said the old woman. ‘Three of them. They go about with my Morgan everywhere. He’s all for dogs, he is. Doesn’t care much about people! He’s got four more dogs on the hills with the sheep—and, believe you me, if Morgan went out in the yard there, and shouted, those four dogs away with the sheep on the hills far yonder would hear him and come tearing down here like a flash of lightning!’

The children felt as if they could well believe this of the giantlike Morgan. They rather wished he would call his dogs. His voice would certainly be worth hearing!

They set to work on their breakfast, and although they couldn’t eat quite all that Mrs Jones had brought, they managed to do very well indeed! So did Timmy. They especially liked the bread, which was home-made and very good.

‘I could really make a meal just of this home-made bread and fresh butter,’ said Anne. ‘Our bread at home doesn’t taste a bit the same. I say—wouldn’t Mother be amazed to see the breakfast we’ve eaten today?’

‘She certainly would—considering that we haven’t felt like eating even a boiled egg for days,’ said Dick. ‘I say—oughtn’t we to telephone home, Julian, and say we’re safely here?’

‘Gosh, yes,’ said Julian. ‘I meant to last night. I’ll do that now, if Mrs Jones will let me. Hallo, look—isn’t that our last night’s driver going off. He must have spent the night here.’

The driver was about to get into his car when he heard Julian knocking at the window. He came over to the farmhouse, and walked in at the front door, and soon found the children’s living-room.

‘I’m just off,’ he announced. ‘The old lady gave me a bed in the barn last night—never been so cosy in my life! And I say—I’ve found out why the car crawled so slowly up and down that hill to Old Towers last night!’

‘Oh, have you? Why was it then?’ asked Julian, with interest.

‘Well, it wasn’t anything to do with the car,’ said the driver, ‘and wasn’t I thankful to know that! It was to do with the hill itself.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ said Dick, puzzled.

‘Well, the shepherd’s wife told me they think there must be something magnetic down under that hill,’ said the driver. ‘Because when the postman goes up on his bicycle, the same thing happens. His bicycle feels like lead, so heavy that he can’t even cycle up—and if he pushes his bike, it feels just as heavy too. So now he leaves his bike at the bottom and just walks up!’

‘I see—so the magnetic whatever-it-is got hold of the car last night, and pulled so much that it made it go slow too,’ said Julian. ‘Queer! There must be some deposit of powerful metal in that hill. Does it affect all cars like that?’

‘Oh yes—no one goes up there in a car if they can help it,’ said the driver. ‘Funny thing, isn’t it? Queer hill altogether, if you ask me—that notice on the gate and all!’

‘I wonder who lives there?’ said Dick.

‘Only an old dame,’ said the driver. ‘She’s off her head, so they say—won’t let anyone in! Well—we know that all right. Sorry I lost my way last night—but you’re all right now. You’re in clover here!’

He moved to the door, raised his hand in salute, and went out. They saw him through the window getting into his car and driving away, waving a leather-gloved hand out of the window.

‘Is the snow thick enough to toboggan on?’ wondered George. ‘It doesn’t look like it. Let’s go out and see. Better wrap up well though—I bet the wind’s cold out on this hill, and I don’t want to start sniffling again. I’ve had enough of that.’

Soon they were all clad in heavy coats, scarves and woollen hats. Mrs Jones nodded her head when she saw them, and smiled. ‘Sensible children you are,’ she said. ‘Cold it is today, with a biting wind, but healthy weather! Be careful of that dog of yours, my boy—don’t you let him loose till you’re well away from the farm, in case he goes for one of my Morgan’s dogs.’

George smiled, pleased to be addressed as a boy. They began to wander round the farm, Timmy cross because he was on the lead. He pulled at it, wanting to run round and explore on his own. But George wouldn’t let him. ‘Not till you’ve made friends with all the other dogs,’ she said. ‘I wonder where they are?’

‘Must have gone out with Morgan,’ said Dick. ‘Come on—let’s go and look at the cows in the sheds. I do love the smell of cows.’

They wandered round the farm, enjoying the pale sun, the keen wind, and the feeling that their legs belonged to them at last, and were not likely to give way at any moment. They hardly coughed at all, and felt quite aggrieved when one or other suddenly began.

‘I shall let old Timmy off the lead a bit now,’ said George. ‘I can’t see a dog about anywhere.’ So she slipped the lead off his collar and he ran off joyfully at once, sniffing here, there and everywhere. He disappeared round a corner, his tongue hanging out happily.

And then the most appalling barking began! The children stopped as if they had been shot. It wasn’t one dog, or even two—it sounded like a dozen! The four rushed round the corner of a barn at once—and there was poor Timmy, standing with his back to the barn, growling and barking and snarling at three fierce dogs!

‘No, George, no, don’t go to Timmy,’ shouted Julian, seeing that George was going to rescue Tim, whatever happened. ‘Those dogs are savage!’

But what did George care for that? She raced to Timmy, stood in front of him, and yelled at the three surprised dogs snarling there, ‘how dare you! get away! go home! i said go home!’