Читать книгу The Children of Kidillin - Enid blyton - Страница 4

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For the first few days things were very difficult for all four children, and for the two dogs as well. They were even more difficult for poor Miss Mitchell! Sandy and Jeanie never quarrelled—but now she had four children who bickered and squabbled all day long!

As for the dogs, they had to be kept well apart, for they each seemed to wish to tear the other to pieces! They had to take it in turns to be tied up so that they could not fly at one another all day long.

“And really, I’m wishing I could tie up the children too,” Miss Mitchell said to Sandy’s mother. “For they’re like the dogs—just ready to fly at one another’s throats all day long!”

Mrs. MacLaren laughed. “Give them time to settle down to each other,” she said. “And you’d better begin lessons again to-morrow, Miss Mitchell—that will keep them out of mischief a bit.”

Sandy and Jeanie had been showing off to Tom and Sheila. They had taken them for a long walk, up a difficult mountain, where a good deal of rough climbing had to be done. The English children had panted and puffed, and poor Sheila’s shoes were no use at all for such walking.

“Can’t we have a rest again?” asked Sheila at last. “I’m so tired. This is a dreadful place for walking. I’d much rather walk in the park!”

“In the park!” said Sandy scornfully. “What, when there’s fine country like this, and soft heather to your feet! And look at the view there—you can see the sea!”

The four children sat down. Far away they could see the blue glimmer of the sea, and could hear very faintly the shrill cry of the circling gulls. Tom was so tired that he only gave the view a moment’s look, and then lay down on his back. “Phew, I’m tired!” he said. “I vote we go back.”

“But we’re not yet at the burn we want to show you,” said Jeanie. Sheila giggled.

“It does sound so funny for a stream to be called a burn!” she said. “It sounds as if something was on fire—going to see the burn!”

“The bur-r-r-rn, not the burn,” said Sandy, sounding the R in burn. “Can’t you talk properly?”

“We can talk just as well as you!” said Tom, vexed, and then off they went, squabbling again!

Mack, who was with the children, barked when he heard them quarrelling. He wanted someone to quarrel with too! But Paddy was at home, tied up, much to Tom’s annoyance.

“Be quiet,” said Tom to Mack. “I can’t hear myself speak when you begin that noise. Where are you going, Sandy? I want to rest a bit more.”

“There’ll be no time to finish the walk if you lie there any longer,” said Sandy. “This is the fourth time we’ve stopped for you—a lazy lot of folk you Londoners must be!”

“All right. Then we’ll be lazy!” said Tom angrily. “You and Jeanie go on, and Sheila and I will stay here till you come back—and you can go and find your wonderful bur-r-r-r-r-rn yourself!”

“Oh do come, Tom,” begged Jeanie. “It really is a strange sight to see. The water comes pouring out of a hole in the hillside—just as if somebody had turned a tap on!”

“Well, don’t you go rushing up the mountain so quickly then,” said Tom, getting up. “I’m sure you’re just showing off! I bet you and Jeanie don’t go so fast when you’re alone! You’re just trying to make us feel silly.”

Jeanie went red. It was quite true—she and Sandy had planned together to take the two Londoners for a stiff walk up the mountains, going at a fast pace, just to show them what Scots children could do. And now Tom had guessed what she and Sandy had planned.

“Oh come on,” said Sandy impatiently. They all went up the steep, heathery slope, rounded a big crag, and then slipped and slid on a stony stretch that scratched Sheila’s shoes to bits!

Suddenly there was a rumble of thunder round the mountain. Tom looked up anxiously. “I say! Is there going to be a storm?” he said. “Sheila always gets a cold if she gets soaked. Is there anywhere to shelter?”

“There’s an old tumble-down hut not far from here,” said Sandy. “Come on—run!”

The rain began to fall. The four children and the dog ran full-pelt over the heather—up another slope, round a group of wind-blown pine trees—and there, in front of them, tucked into the mountain-side, was an old, tumble-down cottage!

The children rushed to the door, flung it open and ran inside. They shook themselves like dogs, and the rain flew off their clothes, just as it was flying off Mack’s coat. Then Sandy gave a cry of surprise.

“I say! Somebody lives here! Look!”

The children looked around the little stone house. It was roughly furnished with chairs, a table and two camp beds. An oil-stove stood in a corner, and something was cooking on it.

“Funny!” said Jeanie, staring round. “Nobody’s here at all—and yet there’s something cooking on the stove.”

“Perhaps there’s someone in the tiny room at the back,” said Sandy, and he pushed open the door and looked inside. The boy stopped in the greatest surprise. Nobody was there—nobody at all—but the whole room seemed full of a strange-looking machine, that had knobs and handles, valves and levers on it. Sandy was just going to tell Tom to come and see, when he heard footsteps.

He shut the door of the little room quickly, just as the door of the house swung open, and a fat man came in. He was so astonished when he saw the children that he couldn’t say a word. He stood and gaped at them in amazement. Then he turned a purple-red and caught Tom by the shoulder.

He made queer noises, and pushed the boy out of the door so roughly that he almost fell. He was just about to do the same to Jeanie when Sandy stepped up and stopped him. The boy stood there in his kilt, glowering at the angry man.

“Don’t you dare touch my sister!” he said. “What’s up with you? There was a storm coming on, and we came in here out of the rain. We didn’t know anyone lived here—it’s always been empty before. We’ll go if you don’t want to give us shelter!”

There was the sound of footsteps again and another man came into the house, looking dismayed and astonished. He began to roar at the children.

“What are you doing here? Clear out! If you come here again I’ll set my dog on you!”

The children stumbled out of the old hut in a fright. The second man caught hold of Tom and shook him. “Did you go into the room at the back?” he demanded. “Did you? Go on, answer me! If you’ve come to steal anything, you’ll be sorry.”

“Of course we haven’t come to steal anything!” said Tom indignantly. “No, I didn’t go into any room at all except the one you found us in—I didn’t even know there was another room! So keep your silly secrets to yourself!”

The man made as if he would rush at him, but Mack somehow got in between, and tripped the man over. He sat up nursing his ankle, looking as black as thunder.

“Loose the dog, Carl!” he yelled. “Loose the dog.”

“Come on,” said Sandy at once. “It’s a big brute of a dog. I can see it over there. It would eat Mack up!”

The four children flew down the path in the rain. No dog came after them. The rain poured down, and Tom looked anxiously at Sheila again. “We really shall have to shelter somewhere,” he said. “Sheila is getting soaked and I promised Mother I’d look after her.”

“There’s an overhanging rock by the burn we wanted to show you,” said Sandy stopping. “But it’s rather near that old hut. Still, the men won’t see us there, and they’ll think we’ve gone home frightened, anyway. Come on!”

Sandy led the way. In a few minutes they came within sound of rushing water, and then Tom saw a great craggy rock. They went towards it, and were soon crouching under it out of the rain.

“This is the burn, or stream we wanted to show you,” said Sandy. “Look—it gushes out of the hole in this rock—isn’t it queer? It comes from the heart of the mountain—we always think it’s very strange.”

It was strange. There was a large, uneven hole in one side of the great rock, and from it poured a clear stream of water that fell down the mountain-side in a little gully it had made for itself. On and on it went down the mountain until, near the bottom, it joined the rushing River Spelter.

“Jeanie and I have climbed down beside this water all the way from this stone to the river,” said Sandy proudly. “It’s very difficult to do that. We had to take a rope with us to get down at some places, because the burn becomes a waterfall at times!”

Tom was very interested in the torrent that poured out of the hole in the rock. He went close up to it and peered into the hole, whose mouth was almost hidden by the spate of water.

“Does this water get less when there are no rains?” he asked. Sandy nodded. “Yes,” he said, “it’s very full now, for we’ve had heavy rains the last week or two. Wouldn’t it be exciting to crawl through that hole, when the water was less, and see where it led to!”

“Where does the River Spelter rise?” asked Tom. “In this same mountain?”

“Nobody knows,” said Sandy. Tom looked astonished.

“But hasn’t anyone followed it up to see?” he asked.

“No,” said Sandy with a laugh. “It’s like this burn here—it suddenly flows out of the mountain, and no one has ever dared to seek its source, for it would mean swimming against a strong current, in pitch black darkness, underwater! And who would care to do that!”

“How queer,” said Tom thoughtfully. “This is a more exciting place than I thought—springs that gush out of rocks, and rivers that come from underground homes—and strange men that live in secret tumble-down huts!”

“Let’s start home again now,” said Sandy, suddenly remembering the two men and their dog. “It’s stopped raining. Tom, remind me to tell you something when we get back.”

Down the mountain they went—and poor Sheila quickly decided that it was far worse to go down steep slopes than to go up them! She was tired out when at last they reached Kidillin House.

“Oh, Sandy, you shouldn’t have taken Tom and Sheila so far,” said Miss Mitchell, when she saw Sheila’s white, tired face. “And look—the child’s soaked through!”

Sandy and Jeanie were ashamed of themselves when they saw that Sheila really was too tired even to eat. They went to tie up Mack, and to let Paddy loose.

“Anyway, we’ve shown Tom and Sheila what sillies they are when it comes to walking and climbing!” said Sandy. “Oh—where’s Tom? I wanted to tell him something!”

He found Tom groaning as he took off his boots. “My poor feet!” he said. “You’re a wretch, Sandy—you wait till I find something I can do better than you!”

“Tom,” said Sandy. “Listen. I peeped inside the back room of that old tumble-down hut—and do you know, there was a whole lot of machinery there. I don’t know what it was—I’ve never seen anything like it before. Whatever do you think those men keep it there for? Seems funny, doesn’t it, in a place like this?”

Tom sat up with a jerk. “Some sort of machinery!” he said in amazement. “What, in that old hut on that desolate mountain-side, where there are only a few sheep? How would they get machinery there? There’s no road.”

“There’s a rough road the other side of the mountain,” said Sandy. “Easy enough to go over the top, and get down to the path that way—and there’s a good motor-road a bit farther down the other side, too.”

Tom whistled. His eyes grew bright. “I wonder if we’ve hit on something peculiar!” he said. “We’ll tell your father, and see what he says. Perhaps those two men are spies!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Sandy. “What would spies do here, among the mountains? There’s nothing to spy on! Anyway, my father is away now.”

“All right, Mr. Know-all,” said Tom. “But we might as well tell your father when he comes back, all the same!”