Читать книгу Five on a Hike Together - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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They set off at last, Timmy running in front. School already seemed far behind them. The October sun shone down warmly, and the trees in the village glowed yellow and red and golden, dressed in their autumn colourings. A few leaves floated down in the breeze, but not until there was a real frost would many come whirling down.

“It’s a heavenly day,” said George. “I wish I hadn’t got my blazer on. I’m cooked already.”

“Well, take it off and carry it over your shoulder,” said Julian. “I’m going to do the same. Our jerseys are quite warm enough today!”

They took off their thick blazers and carried them. Each of them had a kit-bag, a mac rolled up tightly and tied to the bag, and now a blazer to carry. But none of them noticed the weight at the outset of their day.

“I’m glad you girls took my advice and wore your thickest shoes,” said Julian, looking with approval at their brogues. “Some of our walking may be wet. Have you got changes of socks?”

“Yes. We brought everything you told us to,” said Anne. “Your bag looks a bit fuller than ours, Ju!”

“Well, I’ve got maps and things in it,” said Julian. “It’s a queer place, this moor—miles and miles and miles of it! Queer names on it too—Blind Valley—Rabbit Hill—Lost Lake—Coney Copse!”

“Rabbit Hill! Timmy would love that,” said George, and Timmy pricked up his ears. Rabbits? Ah, that was the kind of place he liked!

“Well, actually we’re going towards Rabbit Hill now,” said Julian. “And after that there’s Coney Copse, and as coney is a country word for rabbits, Timmy ought to enjoy himself!”

“Woof,” said Timmy joyfully and bounded ahead. He felt very happy. His four friends were with him, their kit-bags were full of delicious-smelling sandwiches, and a long, long walk lay ahead, teeming, he hoped with rabbits!

It was lovely walking along in the sun. They soon left the little village behind and took a winding lane. The hedges on either side became so high that the four couldn’t see over the tops at all.

“What a sunken lane!” said Dick. “I feel as if I’m walking in a tunnel! And how narrow! I wouldn’t like to drive a car along this lane. If I met another car I might have to back for miles!”

“We shan’t meet anyone much,” said Julian. “It’s only in the summer that cars come along these lanes—people on holiday, touring round the countryside. Look—we take that path now—it leads to Rabbit Hill, according to the map!”

They climbed over a stile in the high hedge and walked over a field towards a curious little hill. Timmy suddenly went mad with excitement. He could smell rabbits—and he could see them too!

“You don’t often see so many rabbits out in the daytime,” said George, surprised. “Big ones and little ones too—what a scampering.”

They came to the hill and sat down quietly to watch the rabbits. But it was quite impossible to make Timmy do the same. The sight and smell of so many made him quite wild. He pulled away from George’s hand and went bounding madly up the hill, scattering rabbits by the dozen.

“Timmy!” yelled George, but for once Timmy paid no attention. He rushed here and rushed there, getting very angry as first one rabbit and then another neatly popped down a hole.

“It’s no use calling him,” said Dick. “He won’t catch one, anyway—see how nippy they are. It’s my belief they’re having a game with our Timmy!”

It did look rather like it. As soon as Timmy had chased two or three rabbits down one hole, a few more would pop up from another behind him. The children laughed. It was as good as a pantomime.

“Where do you mean to have lunch?” asked Anne. “If we stay here much longer I shall really have to have something to eat—and it’s not nearly time yet. I wish I didn’t always feel so hungry in the open air.”

“Well, come on then,” said Julian. “We’ve got some way to go before we get to our lunch-place. I’ve made a pretty good time-table of our tour—we’re going to go all round the moors and finish at the place we started at! I’ve really marked it all out pretty well.”

“Do we sleep at farm-houses or something at night?” asked George. “I should like that. Will they mind having us, do you think? Or do we go to inns?”

“Farm-houses for two nights and inns for the other nights,” said Julian. “I’ve marked them all.”

They went up Rabbit Hill and down the other side. There were just as many rabbits there. Timmy chased them till he panted like an engine going uphill! His tongue hung out, dripping wet.

“You’ve had enough, Tim,” said George. “Be sensible now.”

But Timmy couldn’t be sensible with so many rabbits about. So they left him to chase and dart and race at top speed and went on down the hill. Timmy came rushing after them when they got to the bottom.

“Now perhaps you’ll stop tearing about like a mad thing and walk with us,” scolded George. But she spoke too soon, for soon they were in a small wood which Julian informed them was Coney Copse.

“And as I told you, coney means rabbit, so you can’t expect Timmy to stop being mad just yet,” said Julian.

They very nearly lost Timmy in Coney Copse. A rabbit disappeared down a very big hole, and Timmy was actually able to get down a little way. Then he got stuck. He scrabbled violently with his feet but it was no good. He was well and truly stuck.

The others soon discovered he wasn’t with them and went back, calling. Quite by chance they came on the hole he was in and heard the sound of panting and scraping. A shower of sand flew out of the hole.

“There he is! The idiot, he’s down a hole,” said George in alarm. “Timmy! Timmy! Come on out!”

There was nothing that Timmy would have liked better, but he couldn’t come out, however much he tried. A root of a tree had got wedged into his back, and he couldn’t seem to push himself out again, past the annoying root.

It took the four children twenty minutes to get Timmy out. Anne had to lie down and wriggle in a little way to reach him. She was the only one small enough to get into the hole.

She caught hold of Timmy’s back legs and pulled hard. Somehow the root slid off his back and he came backwards. He whined loudly.

“Oh Anne, you’re hurting him, you’re hurting him!” shouted George. “Let him go!”

“I can’t!” yelled back Anne. “He’ll only go down deeper, if I leave go his legs. Can you pull me out? If so Timmy will come too—he’ll have to because I’ve got his legs!”

Poor Anne was pulled out by her legs, and poor Timmy came too, pulled by his. He whined and went to George.

“He’s hurt himself somewhere,” said George anxiously. “I know he has. He wouldn’t whine like that if he wasn’t hurt.”

She ran her fingers over him, pressing here and there. She examined each leg and each paw. She looked at his head. Still he whined. Where could he have hurt himself?

“Leave him,” said Julian, at last. “I can’t see that he’s hurt anywhere—except in his feelings! He probably didn’t like Anne hauling him out by his hind legs. Most undignified!”

George wasn’t satisfied. Although she could find nothing wrong, she couldn’t help being sure that Timmy had hurt himself somewhere. Ought he to see a vet?

“Don’t be silly, George,” said Julian. “Vets don’t grow on trees in a moorland country like this! Let’s go on walking. You’ll see Timmy will follow quite all right, and soon forget to whine. I tell you, he’s hurt his doggy feelings, that’s all. His vanity is wounded!”

They left Coney Copse and went on, George rather silent. Timmy trotted beside her, also rather quiet. Still, there really didn’t seem anything the matter with him, except that he gave sudden little whines now and again.

“Now here’s where I thought we might have our lunch,” said Julian, at last. “Fallaway Hill! It’s a good name for it too—it falls away steeply, and we’ve got a marvellous view.”

So they had. They had come to the top of a steep hill, not guessing that it fell away on the other side. They could sit on the top and see the sun shining on miles and miles of lonely heather-grown moor. They might see shy deer in the distance—or little wild ponies.

“This is heavenly,” said Anne, sitting down on a great tuft of heather. “It’s as warm as summer too! I do hope it’s like this all over the week-end. We shall all be burnt brown!”

“It will also be heavenly having some of those sandwiches,” said Dick, choosing a lump of heather too. “What comfortable seats are provided for us! I’ve a good mind to take a tuft of this heather back to school with me to put on the very hard chair that goes with my desk!”

Julian put the four packets of sandwiches down in the heather. Anne undid them. They looked wonderful!

“Super!” said Anne. “What do you want first?”

“Well, speaking for myself I’m going to have one of each, put them all on top of one another, and have a huge bite of cheese, ham, pork and egg at once,” said Dick. Anne laughed.

“Even your mouth isn’t big enough for that,” she said. But somehow Dick managed, though it was difficult.

“Disgusting behaviour,” he said, when he had managed the first mouthful. “I think on the whole that one at a time is more economical. Hie, Timmy—have a bit?”

Timmy obliged. He was very quiet, and George was still anxious about him. Still, his appetite seemed remarkably good, so nobody but George wondered any more if he had hurt himself. He lay beside George, occasionally putting a great paw on her knee if he wanted another bit of sandwich.

“Timmy does jolly well,” said Dick, with his mouth full. “He gets bits from us all. I bet he eats more than any of us. I say—did anyone ever taste such smashing sandwiches? Have you tried the pork? It must have come from a super pig!”

It was lovely sitting there in the sun, looking over miles of countryside, eating hungrily. They all felt very happy. Except George. Was there anything wrong with Timmy? It would spoil the whole week-end if so!

Poor Anne was pulled out by her legs, and poor Timmy came too