Читать книгу The Secret of Cliff Castle - Enid blyton - Страница 5

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Now that the children were right up to the castle, it looked enormous! It rose up in front of them, square and sturdy, a tower at each end. Its small, slit-like windows had no glass in. The great front door was studded with big nails that had gone rusty. There was a large knocker, which the children longed to use—but which, of course, they dared not touch!

“Let’s go all the way round the castle and see what we can see,” said Pam.

So they went down the great flight of steps again, and began to make their way round the towering walls of the strange castle. It was difficult, because creepers, bushes and weeds grew high up the walls. Tall nettles stood in great patches, and the children had to make their way round them after Pam was badly stung on her bare legs.

“We’ll find some dock leaves to help the stings,” said Peter, and he found a patch of dark green dock leaves. He picked some and Pam pressed the cool leaves against her burning skin.

“That’s better,” she said. “Gracious, I shan’t go near nettles again to-day!”

They went on their way round the great grey walls. The slit-like windows were placed at regular intervals. The children gazed up at them.

“You know, in the olden days, they had those funny narrow windows so that archers could shoot their arrows out without being hit themselves,” said Brock, rather learnedly. “I can’t imagine why the old man should have built windows like that for himself, long after the time of bows and arrows had gone! It must make the rooms inside awfully dark.”

“I wish we could see them, don’t you?” said Pam excitedly. “Just imagine how queer they would look after all these years when nobody has been here—cobwebs all over the place—dust everywhere. Oooh—it would be awfully queer.”

They could not go all round the castle, because, when they came to the side that faced due west, the hill fell away so steeply that it was impossible to go any farther. The walls of the castle were built almost sheer with the hillside, and there was a very big drop down to the bottom of the hills below.

“ISN’T IT QUEER?” SAID BROCK, PEERING OVER THE EDGE OF THE STEEP CLIFF.

“Let’s have our lunch now,” said Peter, all at once feeling terribly hungry. “It’s almost time. We can find a nice place out of the hot sun and sit down, can’t we?”

“Rather!” said Brock, feeling hungry too. “Look—what about that shady bit over there, facing the castle? We can look at the queer castle whilst we’re eating.”

They sat down in the shady spot, and undid all they had to eat. It had seemed a lot when Brock’s mother had packed it up—but it didn’t seem nearly so much when three hungry children began to eat it. They unscrewed the tops of the lemonade bottles, and drank eagerly. Except that the lemonade tasted a little warm, it was delicious.

Pam finished her lunch first, because she did not want so much as the boys, and gave some of hers to them to finish up. She lay back against a tree and looked up at the silent grey castle.

She looked at the queer narrow windows and began to count them. When she came to the second row, she spoke out loud:

“Look, Peter; look, Brock—there’s a window in the second row upwards that is bigger than the others. I wonder why.”

The boys looked up. Peter screwed up his eyes to see why the window should be bigger.

“I don’t think it’s meant to be bigger,” he said at last. “I think the weather has sort of eaten it away. It looks to me as if the bottom part of it has crumbled away. Perhaps a pipe comes out just there, and has leaked down the window and made the stone and brickwork rotten.”

“Do you see the tree that grows up to that window?” said Brock, in sudden excitement. “I believe we could climb it and look in at that window! I wonder what we should see if we did!”

Peter and Pam stared at him, and then at the tree that grew up to the window. What fun it would be if they really could climb it and have a peep inside the castle!

“Well, let’s see if we can peep inside any of the lower windows first,” said Peter. “I don’t think Aunt Hetty would be awfully pleased with us if we climbed trees in these clothes. We really want old clothes for that.”

“Oh, bother our clothes!” said Brock, his red face shining with excitement. “I vote we climb up! But we’ll have a peep in at one of the lower windows first. Peter, you come and give me a leg-up.”

It wasn’t long before Peter was bending down, heaving Brock up to the narrow window-sill to see inside the slit-like window. Brock peered through, but could see nothing at all.

“It’s so dark inside,” he said. “It wouldn’t be so bad if the sun wasn’t so brilliant to-day—but my eyes just simply can’t see a thing inside the darkness of the castle.”

“Well, we’ll climb the tree then!” cried Pam, running to it. She loved climbing trees as much as the boys did.

“Wait a bit, Pam,” cried Brock. “Peter and I will go up first, and give you a hand. You’re only a girl, you know.”

It always made Pam cross to be told she was only a girl. “I’m as strong as you are, anyway!” she cried, and looked about for an easy way to climb.

But Brock was up the tree before either of the others. He was a country boy, used to climbing, and he saw at once the best way to go up. He was soon lost to sight among the greenery.

His voice came down to them: “Go up the way I did. It’s not difficult.”

BROCK’S VOICE CAME DOWN TO THEM: “GO UP THE WAY I DID. IT’S NOT DIFFICULT.”

Peter followed him, and then Pam. Pam had to have a hand from Peter every now and again, and she was glad of it. They were soon all of them up on a high branch beside Brock. He grinned at them.

“Good climbing!” he said. “Now, look—see this branch? It reaches right to that window. It’s pretty strong, and I think it will bear us all. But we’d better go one at a time, in case it doesn’t.”

“You go first, then,” said Peter. Brock edged his way along the branch, working carefully with his arms and legs. The bough bent beneath his weight and swung down below the window-sill. Brock came back.

“No good,” he said. “We’ll try the next branch. That looks a good deal stronger—and although it grows right above the window at its tip, our weight will bend it down till it rests almost on the window-sill, I should think.”

They all climbed a little higher. Then Brock worked his way along the next branch. As he said, his weight bent it gradually down, and by the time he was at the end of it, its tip rested on the sill itself. Part of it even went right through the window-opening into the castle.

“Fine!” said Brock. He put one leg across the stone window-sill, and peered into the slit. He could see nothing but darkness. But certainly the weather had worn away the stone around that window, for the opening was almost big enough to take Brock’s stout body!

“I believe I could get right inside!” he called to the others. He stood upright on the sill and tried to work his way in. It was a very tight fit, for Brock was not thin! He had to squeeze himself in till he almost burst.

He found that the wall was very thick—about a yard thick, before he had got right through the window. Then he jumped down to the floor inside and called out through the slit:

“Come on! It’s not very difficult! We’ll be able to explore the castle from top to bottom, if you can get through!”