The three boys stood
rather close together, glad to feel each other in the darkness.
They couldn’t believe that they had found what they had come
looking for so doubtfully! What kind of a train was this that had
come rumbling out of the tunnel so mysteriously, and then, after a
pause at the yard, had gone just as mysteriously back again?
’If only I hadn’t
twisted my ankle, we could have followed the train down the lines
to the yard, and have gone quite close to it there,’ groaned Dick.
‘What an ass I am, messing things up at the most exciting
moment!’
’You couldn’t help
it,’ said Jock. ‘I say\ We’ve seen the spook-train! I can hardly
believe it. Does it go all by itself, with nobody to drive it? Is
it a real train?’
’Judging by the noise
it made, it’s real all right,’ said Julian. ‘And it shot out smoke,
too. All the same, it’s jolly strange. I can’t say I like it
much.’
’Let’s go and see
what’s happened to Wooden-Leg Sam,’ said Dick. ‘I bet he’s under
his bed!’
They made their way
slowly back to the yard, Dick limping a little, though his ankle
was practically all right again. When they came to the yard they
looked towards Sam’s hut. The light was there no longer.
’He’s blown it out
and got under the bed!’ said Dick. ‘Poor Sam! It really must be
terrifying for him. Let’s go and peep into his hut.’
They went over to it
and tried to see in at the window. But there was nothing to be
seen. The hut was in complete darkness. Then suddenly a little
flare flashed out somewhere near the floor.
’Look - there’s Sam!
He’s lighting a match,’ said Julian. ‘See - he’s peeping out from
under the bed. He looks scared stiff. Let’s tap on the window and
ask him if he’s all right.’
But that was quite
the wrong thing to do! As soon as Julian tapped sharply on the
window, Sam gave an anguished yell and retired hurriedly under the
bed again, his wavering match-light going out.
’It’s come for to
take me!’ they heard him wailing. ‘It’s come for to take me! And me
with my wooden leg off too.’
’We’re only
frightening the poor old fellow,’ said Dick. ‘Come on. Let’s leave
him. He’ll have a fit or something if we call out to him. He
honestly thinks the spook-train’s come to get him.’
They wandered round
the dark yard for a few minutes, but there was nothing to find out
in the darkness. No more rumbling came to their ears. The
spook-train was evidently not going to run again that night.
’Let’s go back,’ said
Julian. ‘That really was exciting! Honestly, my hair stood on end
when that train came puffing out of the tunnel. Where on earth did
it come from? And what’s the reason for it?’
They gave it up, and
began to walk back to the camp. The’y scrambled through the
heather, tired but excited. ‘Shall we tell the girls we’ve seen the
train?’ said Dick.
’No,’ said Julian.
‘It would only scare Anne, and George would be furious if she knew
we’d gone without her. We’ll wait and see if we discover any- thing
more before we say anything, either to the girls
ortooldLuffy.’
’Right,’ said Dick.
‘You’ll hold your tongue, too, won’t you, Jock?’
’Course,’ said Jock,
scornfully. ‘Who would I tell? My stepfather? Not likely! How
furious he’d be if he knew we’d all pooh-poohed his warnings and
gone down to see the spook-train after all!’
He suddenly felt
something warm against his legs, and gave a startled cry: ‘What’s
this? Get away!’
But the warm thing
turned out to be Timmy, who had come to meet the three boys. He
pressed against each of them in turn and whined a little.
’He says, “Why didn’t
you take me with you?”’ said Dick. ‘Sorry, old thing, but we
couldn’t. George would never have spoken to us again if we’d taken
you, and left her behind! How would you have liked spook-trains,
Timmy? Would you have run into a corner somewhere and
hidden?’
’Woof,’ said Timmy,
scornfully. As if he would be afraid of anything!
They reached their
camping-place and began to speak in whispers. ‘Good-bye, Jock. Come
up tomorrow if you can. Hope you don’t have that Cecil boy to cope
with!’
’Good-bye! See you
soon,’ whispered Jock, and disappeared into the darkness, with
Timmy at his heels. Another chance of a midnight walk? Good,
thought Timmy, just what he’d like! It was hot in the tent, and a
scamper in the cool night air would be fine.
Timmy growled softly
when they came near to Olly’s Farm, and stood still, the hackles on
his neck rising up a little. Jock put his hand on the dog’s head
and stopped.
’What’s the matter,
old boy? Burglars or something?’
He strained his eyes
in the darkness. Big clouds now covered the stars and there was no
light at all to see by. Jock made out a dim light in one of the
barns. He crept over to it to see what it was. It went” out as he
came near, and then he heard the sound of footsteps, the quiet
closing of the barn door, and the click of a padlock as it was
locked.
Jock crept nearer -
too near, for whoever it was must have heard him and swung round,
lashing out with his arm. He caught Jock on the shoulder, and the
boy overbalanced. He almost fell, and the man who had struck him
clutched hold of him. A flash-light was put on and he blinked in
the sudden light.
’It’s you, Jock!’
said an astonished voice, rough and impatient. ‘What are you doing
out here at this time of night?’
’Well, what are you
doing?’ demanded Jock, wriggling free. He switched on his own torch
and let the light fall on the man who had caught him. It was
Peters, one of the farm men, the one in whose lorry he had ridden
that very day.
’What’s it to do with
you?’ said Peters, angrily. ‘I had a breakdown, and I’ve only just
got back. Look here - you’re fully dressed! Where have you been at
this time of night? Did you hear me come in and get up to see what
was happening?’
’You never know!’
said Jock cheekily. He wasn’t going to say anything that might make
Peters suspicious of him. ‘You just never know!’
’Is that Biddy?’ said
Peters, seeing a dark shadow slinking away. ‘Do you mean to say
you’ve been out with Biddy? What in the world have you been
doing?’
Jock thanked his
lucky stars that Peters hadn’t spotted it was Timmy, not Biddy. He
moved off without saying another word. Let Peters think what he
liked! It was bad luck, though, that Peters had had a breakdown and
come in late. If the man told his stepfather he’d seen Jock, fully
dressed in the middle of the night, there’d be questions asked by
both his mother and his stepfather, and Jock, who was a truthful
boy, would find things very difficult to explain.
He scuttled off to
bed, climbing up the pear-tree outside his window, and dropping
quietly into his room. He opened his door softly to hear if anyone
was awake in the house, but all was dark and silent.
’Blow Peters!’
thought Jock. ‘If he splits on me, I’m for it!’
He got into bed,
pondered over the curious happenings of the night for a few
minutes, and then slid into an uneasy sleep, in which spook-trains,
Peters, and Timmy kept doing most peculiar things. He was glad to
awake in the bright, sunny morning and find his mother shaking
him.
’Get up, Jock! You’re
very late. Whatever’s made you so sleepy? We’re half-way through
breakfast!’
Peters, apparently,
didn’t say anything to Jock’s stepfather about seeing Jock in the
night. Jock was very thankful. He began to plan how to slip off to
the others at the camp. He’d take them some food! That would be a
fine excuse.
’Mum, can I take a
basket of stuff to the campers?’ he said, after breakfast. They
must be running short now.’
’Well, that boy is
coming,’ said his mother. ‘What’s his name - Cecil something? Your
stepfather says he’s such a nice boy. You did enjoy your day with
him yesterday, didn’t you?’
Jock would have said
quite a lot of uncomplimentary things about dear Cecil if his
stepfather had not been there, sitting by the window reading the
paper. As it was, he shrugged his shoulders and made a face, hoping
that his mother would understand his feelings. She did.
’What time is Cecil
coming?’ she said. ‘Perhaps there’s time for you to run to the camp
with a basket.’
’I don’t want him
running off up there,’ said Mr Andrews, suddenly butting into the
conversation, and putting down his newspaper. ‘Cecil may be here at
any minute- and I know what Jock is! He’d start talking to those
kids and forget all about coming back. Cecil’s father is a great
friend of mine, and Jock’s got to be polite to him, and be here to
welcome him. There’s to be no running off to that camp
today.’
Jock looked sulky.
Why must his stepfather suddenly interfere in his plans like this?
Rushing him off to the town, making him take Cecil for a friend!
Just when some other children had come into his rather lonely life
and livened it up, too! It was maddening.
’Perhaps I can go up
to the camp myself with some food,’ said his mother, comfortingly.
‘Or maybe the children will come down for some.’
Jock was still sulky.
He stalked out into the yard and went to look for Biddy. She was
with her pups who were now trying to crawl round the shed after
her. Jock hoped the campers would come to fetch food themselves
that day. Then at least he would get a word with them.
Cecil arrived by car.
He was about the same age as Jock, though he was small for twelve
years old. He had curly hair which was too long, and his grey
flannel suit was very, very clean and well-pressed.
’Hallo!’ he called to
Jock. ‘I’ve come. What shall we play at? Soldiers?’
’No. Red Indians,’
said Jock, who had suddenly remembered his old Red Indian
head-dress with masses of feathers round it, and a trail of them
falling down the back. He rushed indoors, grinning. He changed into
the whole suit, and put on his head-dress. He took his paint-box
and hurriedly painted a frightful pattern of red, blue and green on
his face. He found his tomahawk and went downstairs. He would play
at Red Indians, and scalp that annoying Pale-Face!
Cecil was wandering
round by himself. To his enormous horror, as he turned a corner, a
most terrifying figure rose up from behind a wall, gave a horrible
yell and pounced on him, waving what looked like a dangerous
chopper.
Cecil turned and
fled, howling loudly, with Jock leaping madly after him, whooping
for all he was worth, and thoroughly enjoying himself. He had had
to play at soldiers all the day before with dear Cecil. He didn’t
see why Cecil shouldn’t play Red Indians all day with him
today!
Just at that moment,
the four campers arrived to fetch food, with Timmy running beside
them. They stopped in amazement at the sight of Cecil running like
the wind, howling dismally, and a fully-dressed and painted Red
Indian leaping fiercely after him.
Jock saw them, did a
comical war-dance all round them, much to Timmy’s amazement, yelled
dramatically, pretended to cut off Timmy’s tail and then tore after
the vanishing Cecil.
The children began to
laugh helplessly. ‘Oh dear!’ said Anne, with tears of laughter in
her eyes, ‘that must be Cecil he’s after. I suppose this is Jock’s
revenge for having to play soldiers all day with him
yesterday.
Look, there they go
round the pig-sty. Poor Cecil. He really thinks he’s going to be
scalped!’
Cecil disappeared
into the farm kitchen, sobbing, and Mrs Andrews ran to comfort him.
Jock made off back to the others, grinning all over his war-painted
face.
’Hallo,’ he said.
‘I’m just having a nice quiet time with dear Cecil. I’m so glad to
see you. I wanted to come over, but my stepfather said I wasn’t to
-1 must play with Cecil. Isn’t he frightful?’
’Awful,’ everyone
agreed.
’I say, will your
mother be furious with you for frightening Cecil like that? Perhaps
we’d better not ask her for any food yet?’ said Julian.
’Yes, you’d better
wait a bit,’ said Jock, leading them to the sunny side of the
haystack they had rested by before. ‘Hallo, Timmy! Did you get back
all right last night?’
Jock had completely
forgotten that the girls didn’t know of the happenings of the night
before. Both Anne and George at once pricked up their ears. Julian
frowned at Jock, and Dick gave him a secret nudge.
’What’s up?’ said
George, seeing all this by-play. ‘What happened last night?’
’Oh, I just came up
to have a little night-talk with the boys - and Timmy walked back
with me,’ said Jock, airily. ‘Hope you didn’t mind him coming,
George.’
George flushed an
angry red. ‘You’re keeping something from me,’ she said to the
boys. ‘Yes, you are. I know you are. I believe you went off to the
railway yard last night! Did you?’
There was an awkward
silence. Julian shot an annoyed look at poor Jock, who could have
kicked himself.
’Go on - tell me,’
persisted George, an angry frown on her forehead. ‘You beasts! You
did go! And you never woke me up to go with you! Oh, I do think
you’re mean!’
’Did you see
anything?’ said Anne, her eyes going from one boy to another. Each
of the girls sensed that there had been some kind of adventure in
the night.
’Well,’ began Julian.
And then there was an interruption. Cecil came round the haystack,
his eyes red with crying. He glared at Jock.
’Your father wants
you,’ he said. ‘You’re to go at once. You’re a beast, and I want to
go home. Can’t you hear your father yelling for you? He’s got a
stick -but I’m not sorry for you! I hope he whacks you hard!’