Читать книгу Five Get Into a Fix - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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The three snarling dogs took no notice of George. It was Timmy they wanted. Who was this strange dog who dared to come wandering round their home? They tried to get at him, but George stood there, swinging the leather lead, and giving first one dog and then another a sharp flick. Julian rushed to help her—and then Timmy gave a sharp yelp. He had been bitten!

Someone came rushing round the corner. It was Mrs Jones, running as if she were a twelve-year-old!

‘Tang! Bob! Dai!’ she called, but the three dogs took no notice of her. And then, from somewhere, came a Voice. What a voice! It echoed all round the farmyard as if it had come through a megaphone.

‘DAI! BOB! TANG!’

And at the sound of that stentorian voice the three dogs stopped as if shot. Then they turned about and tore off at top speed.

‘Thank God! That was Morgan,’ panted the old woman, clutching her shawl round her. ‘He must have heard the barking. Oh, my little dear—are you hurt?’ She took hold of George’s arm, and looked at her anxiously.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ said George, looking rather white. ‘It’s Timmy that’s hurt. Oh, Tim, darling Tim, where did they bite you?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, who, though extremely startled, didn’t seem at all frightened. It had all happened so suddenly. George dropped down on her knees in the snow, and gave a little scream. ‘He’s been bitten on the neck—oh look! Poor, poor, Timmy. Why did I let you off the lead?’

‘It’s not much, George,’ said Julian, looking at the bleeding place. ‘The other dog bit just where his collar is, look—and his teeth went through the collar, not really into Tim’s neck. It’s really not much more than a graze.’

Anne was leaning against the wall, looking sick, and Dick suddenly felt as if his legs were wobbly again. He couldn’t help thinking what would have happened if the three savage dogs had bitten George instead of Timmy. Good old George! She was as brave as a lion!

‘What a thing to happen!’ said old Mrs Jones, upset. ‘Why for did you let him loose, my boy? You should have waited for my Morgan to come along with his dogs, and tell them your Timmy was a friend.’

‘I know,’ said George, still on her knees beside Timmy. ‘It was all my fault. Oh, Timmy, I’m so thankful you’ve only got that one small bite. Mrs Jones, have you any TCP? I must put some on at once.’

But before Mrs Jones could answer, the giantlike figure of Morgan came round the corner of the barn, his three dogs, extremely subdued now, at his heels.

‘Hey?’ he said, inquiringly, looking at the four children and his mother.

‘The dogs attacked this one,’ explained his mother. ‘You shouted just in time, Morgan. But he’s not much hurt. You should have seen this boy here—the one the dog belongs to—he stood in front of his dog and fought off Tang, Bob and Dai!’

Julian couldn’t help smiling to hear George continually called a boy—but, standing there in snow-trousers and coat, a woollen cap on her short hair, she looked very like a sturdy boy.

‘Please come and get the TCP,’ said George, anxiously, seeing a drop of blood drip from Timmy’s neck on to the white snow. Morgan took a step forward and bent down to look at Timmy.

He made a small scornful sound and stood up again. ‘He’s all right,’ he said, and walked off.

George stared after him angrily. It was his dogs that had attacked and hurt Timmy—and he hadn’t even been sorry about it! She felt so angry that tears came suddenly into her eyes. She blinked them away, ashamed.

‘I don’t think I want to stay here,’ she said loudly, and clearly. ‘Those dogs will be sure to attack Timmy again. They might kill him. I shall go home.’

‘Now, now, you’re just upset,’ said kind old Mrs Jones, taking George’s arm. George shook off her hand, scowling. ‘I’m not upset. I’m just angry to think my dog should have been attacked for nothing—and I’m sure he’ll be attacked again. And I want to see to his neck. I’m going indoors.’

She stalked off with Timmy at her heels, her head well up, bitterly ashamed of two more tears that suddenly ran down her cheeks. It wasn’t like old George to cry! But she was still not quite herself after being ill. The other three looked at one another.

‘Go with her, Anne,’ said Julian, and Anne obediently ran after George. Julian turned to the worried old woman.

‘You shouldn’t stand out here in the cold,’ he said, seeing that she was shivering, and pulling her shawl more closely round her. ‘George will soon be all right. Don’t take any notice of what she says.’

‘She! What, isn’t she a boy, then,’ said Mrs Jones, in surprise. ‘Is it a girl she is—as brave as that? Now there’s a fine thing, to be sure? What’ll Morgan say to that? But now, surely she won’t go home, will she?’

‘No,’ said Julian, hoping he was right. You never could tell with George! ‘She’ll soon get over it. If we could get some TCP it would help, though! She’s always terrified of wounds going bad, where Timmy is concerned.’

‘Come away in, then,’ said Mrs Jones, and hurried back to the farmhouse, refusing Julian’s hand over the snow. What an independent little old woman!

George was in the living-room with Timmy. She had got some water and was bathing the wound with her handkerchief, having first taken off Tim’s collar.

‘I’ll fetch you the TCP, boy,’ said Mrs Jones, forgetting again that George was a girl. She ran to her kitchen, and came back with a big bottle of antiseptic. George took it gratefully, and dabbed some on Timmy, who stood still, quite enjoying all the fuss. He jumped a little when it stung him, and George patted him and praised him.

‘He wouldn’t mind having stuff dabbed on him all day long, George, if you would only make a fuss of him,’ said Dick, with a laugh.

George looked up. ‘He might have been killed,’ she said. ‘And if those dogs get him again, he certainly will be! I’m going to go back home—not to your home, Ju—but to my own, at Kirrin Cottage.’

‘Oh, don’t be an ass, George,’ said Dick, exasperated. ‘Anyone would think Timmy had been injured for life or something. He’s only got a skin wound! Why spoil what may be a jolly good holiday just for that?’

‘I don’t trust those three dogs,’ said George, stubbornly. ‘They’ll be out to get Tim now—I know they will. I tell you I’m going home. I’m not spoiling your holiday—only my own.’

‘Well, listen—stay one more day,’ said Julian, hoping that if she did, George would see how stupidly she was behaving. ‘Just one more day. That’s not much to ask. It will upset old Mrs Jones dreadfully if you rush off like this—and it will be difficult to make arrangements for you to go back today, now that everywhere is under snow again.’

‘All right,’ said George, ungraciously. ‘I’ll stay till tomorrow. It will give Timmy a bit of time to get over his fright. But ONLY till tomorrow.’

‘Tim’s not frightened,’ said Anne. ‘George, he would have taken on all three dogs by himself if you hadn’t gone to his help. Wouldn’t you, Timmy?’

‘Woof, woof!’ said Timmy, agreeing at once. He wagged his tail vigorously. Dick laughed. ‘Good old Tim!’ he said. ‘You don’t want to go home, do you?’

‘Woof!’ said Timmy, obligingly, and wagged his tail again. George put on one of her scowls, and Julian nudged the others to warn them to stop teasing her. He didn’t want George suddenly to change her mind and rush off home straightaway!

‘I vote we go for a walk,’ said Dick. ‘It’s a shame to stick indoors like this on this sunny, snowy day. Anne, are you coming?’

‘I will if George does,’ said Anne. But George shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay in with Tim this morning. You go off together.’

Anne wouldn’t come, so the boys left the two girls and went out into the keen, invigorating mountain air once more. Already they felt better, and were not coughing at all. What a pity this had happened! It spoilt things for everyone—even for old Mrs Jones, who now appeared at her front door, looking anxious.

‘Don’t you worry now, Mrs Jones,’ said Julian. ‘I expect our cousin will be all right soon. She’s given up the idea of rushing home today at any rate! My brother and I are going for a walk up the mountain. Which way is best?’

‘Well now, take that path,’ said the old woman, pointing. ‘And go on till you come to our summer chalet. You can rest there before coming back—and if you don’t want to come back for dinner, well, you’ll find food in the cupboard there. Here is the key to get into the little place!’

‘Oh thanks,’ said Julian, surprised. ‘That sounds good. We’d love to have our lunch up there, Mrs Jones—we’ll be back before dark. Tell the girls for us, will you?’

And away they went, whistling. It was fun to have a day all to themselves, just the two of them, together!

The took the snowy path and began to climb up the slope of the mountain. The sun was now melting the snow a little, so they could make out the path fairly easily. Then they discovered that big black stones marked the way here and there—a guide to the farmer and his men, when the snow covered path and everything!

The view was magnificent. As they climbed higher, they could see the tops of more and more hills, all of which sparkled snowy-white in the pale January sun. ‘I say—if only we had a bit more snow, what tobogganing we could have down these slopes,’ said Dick, longingly. ‘I wish I’d brought my skis this morning—the snow is deep enough for them down that hill—we’d whizz along like lightning!’

They were glad when they at last came to the little hut or chalet that old Mrs Jones had spoken about. After two hours’ climbing it was nice to think of having something to eat, and a good rest!

‘It’s quite a place,’ said Julian, slipping the key into the lock. ‘A little wooden house, with windows and all!’

He opened the door and went inside. Yes—it was a very fine little place indeed, with bunk-beds let into the wooden walls, a stove for heating—and cupboards full of crockery—and tins of food! The two boys had the same idea at once, and swung round to one another.

‘Couldn’t we stay here—on our own? George would love it too,’ said Julian, putting into words what Dick was already thinking. Oh—if only they could!