Читать книгу The Land of Far-Beyond - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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The little company tried to go as quickly as they could. The children, used to running and dancing around, found it very hard to carry such heavy weights on their backs. Gracie Grumble made a terrible fuss.

“Oh, that such a thing should happen to me!” she kept sighing. “That wicked man! How dare he try his tricks on me!”

“I do hope we shan’t meet any great dangers,” said her brother, Dick Cowardly. “I’m sorry I had to leave my job in the city. It was well-paid, and now here I am, going off on dangerous adventures! I don’t like it.”

“Don’t be such a ninny,” said Mr. Scornful, in his sneering voice. “I’ve plenty of money to help us along. As long as you are with me you’ll be all right.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” asked his brother, Mr. Fearful, looking all round as if he expected a lion or tiger to leap out at him at any moment. “I feel like Dick—I don’t like this sort of thing.”

“Oh, come! Everything is sure to be all right, my dears!” said Miss Simple, in a bright voice. “Clouds have a silver lining, you know. We shall soon lose our burdens.”

“I hope we shall,” said Peter, feeling that his was getting very heavy indeed, as he walked along in the hot sun. “I’ve always wanted adventures—but not with a burden like this on my back!”

The little company travelled on, over a common upon which the summer sun blazed hotly. Gracie grumbled the whole time, and every one got very tired of her. At last they made her walk by herself, so that they could not hear her grumbling. When the sun was high, Mr. Scornful halted.

“It’s about time we had a meal,” he said. “Has any one brought anything to eat or drink? There don’t seem to be any inns here that we could get food from.”

None of the children had thought of bringing anything, though Peter had some chocolate he had forgotten about in his pocket. Gracie Grumble had brought a parcel of food, and so had Mr. Fearful, who was always afraid he might be hungry. So he had brought quite a large supply of sandwiches, and some bottles of lemonade.

“I’ve got something too,” said Mr. Scornful, and he took a kit-bag from the top of his burden. “I didn’t think many of you would remember we might want food and not be able to buy it for some while. So I’ve brought plenty.”

The whole company sat down and the children were delighted to eat and drink. Gracie didn’t like lemonade, and she turned up her nose at the ham sandwiches that Mr. Fearful offered her.

“Well, don’t have them, then,” said Mr. Fearful, handing them to the children instead. “And go and drink at that stream over there, if you don’t want my lemonade.”

They all rested a little after their meal, and then Mr. Scornful stood up. “We must start off again,” he said. “We want to get to some kind of inn before nightfall. Come along, Gracie—and you children.”

“Oh, can’t we have a bit longer rest?” groaned Gracie, who was half-asleep.

“Well, you’ll be left behind if you do,” said Mr. Scornful. “What a misery you are, always groaning and grumbling about something!”

On went the ten people, the children going a little ahead, for their burdens were not so heavy as those of the grown-ups, and they could go faster. They chattered together as they went.

“I’m getting a bit more used to my load,” said Peter, hitching it up high. “But goodness—how I wish I could put it down just for a minute!”

“Look—there’s a river!” said Anna, pointing to where a line of blue appeared. “How shall we cross that?”

“Oh, I dare say there’s a bridge,” said Patience. “Come on!”

But when they got to the river, there was no bridge to be seen—and no boat either! The grown-ups came along and stared at the swift-running river.

“We’ve got to cross it,” said Mr. Scornful. “It lies between us and that hill.”

A shepherd was not far off, minding sheep that grazed on the moors around. Mr. Scornful hailed him.

“Is this river dangerous?”

“Of course!” said the shepherd. “Can’t you see how swift-running it is? Many a man has been drowned in it through trying to cross just here.”

“Oh, my!” said Gracie, “don’t let’s try to cross it! For goodness’ sake let’s go back.”

“Yes, let’s,” said Mr. Fearful at once. “I’m not going to be drowned.”

“What cowards you are!” said Mr. Scornful. “It may be swift-running—but it doesn’t look very deep. I’m going to try wading across.”

He stepped into it—but the swift current caught hold of him and swept him off his feet at once. His heavy burden prevented him from swimming, and if he had not caught hold of a log that was sailing down just then, he would most certainly have been drowned. The others screamed in fright. Peter held out his hand to him and helped him to the bank again.

“This is terrible!” said Mr. Scornful, wringing out his wet clothes. “What a dangerous river! What’s it called, shepherd?”

“It is the River Trouble,” said the shepherd. “Farther up there are stepping-stones, just by the Ford of Determination. You may get across there, if the river isn’t running too high.”

“We’d better go and see,” said Mr. Scornful. So they set off up the river, in the direction to which the shepherd had pointed. Mr. Fearful hung on to Mr. Scornful’s arm and poured out all kinds of objections.

“Don’t let’s try to get across! You can see the river is running high! Even if we get across we shall be wet through. And suppose I fall in? Who’s going to get me out? Let’s go back to the city. Even if we have to carry these burdens, never mind. We may get used to them!”

“Yes, let’s go back,” said Dick Cowardly. “The very thought of stepping-stones makes me shiver.”

“I’m tired of this journey already,” said Gracie. “I wish I’d never set out.”

“You’re a pack of miseries,” said Mr. Scornful, in his sneering voice. “Not one of you has any sense! Why, even the children are more sensible than you!”

They came at last to the ford. Here the river ran much shallower, and big stones were set out across it that would take a traveller to the other side, provided he was bold and careful. The children stood and gazed at the stones, wondering if they could jump from one to the other with their short legs.

“Well, if any one thinks I’m going to try doing circus tricks across those stones, they’re mistaken!” said Mr. Fearful, in a firm voice. “Because I’m not.”

“Well, I am!” said Peter, suddenly, making up his mind to do his best, and to help Anna and Patience across too. “They don’t look too difficult, if you take them one at a time!”

ONCE THEY HAD MADE UP THEIR MINDS TO CROSS THE SWIFT RIVER, IT DID NOT SEEM QUITE SO DREADFUL

“I can’t, I can’t!” wailed Mr. Fearful, going quite pale at the thought. Mr. Scornful gave him a hard push that nearly sent him into the river.

“If you don’t cross the River Trouble at the Ford of Determination, there’s no other way of getting to the other bank,” he said roughly. “You always were a poor thing, brother. I shall not help you. I shall give my hand to our cousin, Miss Simple. She at least doesn’t wail or grumble!”

Mr. Scornful stepped on to the first stone and held out his hand to Miss Simple. She gave him a bright smile and jumped beside him.

“I must just make up my mind to be brave!” she said.

“That’s what you two girls have got to do, too,” said Peter, taking hold of his sisters’ hands. “Now then—face up to it—set your teeth—and over the River Trouble we’ll go and reach the other side!”

“Let me go with you,” said Dick Cowardly. “You’re such a brave boy. It does me good to follow you. Come on, Gracie. The stones are not as slippery as you might think.”

The children found it difficult to jump from one stepping-stone to another—and yet not so difficult as they had feared. Once they had made up their minds to cross the swift river, it did not seem quite so dreadful. But to poor Mr. Fearful it was simply terrible. He stood on the bank moaning and groaning, quite unable to put his foot on the first stepping-stone!

“Isn’t he awful?” said Peter to Anna, as they stood on a big flat stone in the middle of the river. “I do feel ashamed of him! Honestly, he makes me feel quite nervous if I listen to him.”

“Well, don’t then,” said Anna. “Come on. The next stone is a bit of a jump. Gracious, I’m wet. My feet are soaked. Look how the river splashes over that next stone. You’ll have to go first, and then help us, Peter.”

At last all the little company except Mr. Fearful were safely on the opposite side of the River Trouble. They felt pleased with themselves. “We tackled that well,” said Mr. Scornful. “Ah, well—I always say that the best way to tackle trouble is to make up your mind to face it with courage and determination! It’s never so bad then!”

“Wait for me! Wait for me! Brother, come back and help me across!” wailed poor Mr. Fearful. Mr. Scornful curled up his lip.

“What a poor creature he is! And to think he is my brother too! Well—I’m not going to waste my time in helping him!”

“But oughtn’t you to try?” said Peter, in surprise. “We can’t leave him behind.”

“Oh, can’t we!” said Mr. Scornful. “Well, that’s where you are mistaken. We can leave him behind—and we will! He makes me tired with all his wails and moans. Come along!”

So once again the little company set out—but this time there were only nine. Mr. Fearful had been left behind. He wept bitterly as he saw the others going off towards the hill in the distance. But he was much too afraid to go across the river by himself. The last that the children saw of him was a bowed figure in the distance, trudging all the way back to the City of Turmoil with his burden on his back.

“Well, it didn’t take much to send him home again,” said Peter. “How awful to be afraid of things, like that!”

“I almost was,” said Dick Cowardly. “If I hadn’t kept close to you, I’d never have got across either.”

“We’ll have to hurry,” said Mr. Scornful, looking at the sun, which was now getting rather low in the sky. “We must find shelter for the night, for we don’t want to sleep out here in the open. There might be robbers or wild beasts around.”

“Oh, my goodness!” said Miss Simple, looking all round her for thieves or bears. “Don’t say things like that! It makes my hair stand up on end!”

Down into a valley went the nine travellers, tired and hot. Mr. Scornful looked all about for some kind of shelter. He knew that they could not climb the hill that day, although by now they were quite near to it.

“Ah! There’s a cottage!” said Miss Simple, in delight. “We can stay there for the night—and maybe they will give us supper! Come along—we’ll go and knock at the door.”

And off to the little cottage they went. Peter banged at the door, and every one waited behind him. Who lived there, and what kind of a welcome would they get?