the walk, so, after all, perhaps we needn't start beating the undergrowth and peering into bushes and all that. We'll just toddle on and enjoy the scenery.'
They entered the woods and soon found themselves again on the banks of the stream. It was deep and dark-brown here, and it flowed in steady silence under the trees. There was no path. On the opposite side of the water a woodman and his mate were felling a tree. The two young men stayed for a few minutes to watch, and greetings were exchanged across the stream.
'Well,' said Denis, as they turned left and came out of the woods, 'whichever way either of those dead men came or was taken, it couldn't have been this way. Nobody, either on foot or in a car, could have forded the river hereabouts. Let's do a long cast round and walk our legs off.'
This seemed a reasonable suggestion, but they were not allowed to follow it up. The 'long cast round' foreshadowed by Denis brought them to the edge of another and a greater wood. This wood, moreover, was an enclosure and admittance to it was gained by several widely-spaced gates, to one of which a rudimentary track brought the walkers. At this gate Denis paused. The enclosure was bounded by a strong fence, but the gate was on a latch.
'Shall we?' he asked, unfastening the gate without waiting for an answer. The two of them entered the unresisting fastness and Denis closed the gate behind them. The young men found themselves on a kind of raised banking and among trees, undergrowth and-so slowly does water dry away in the thickly-wooded parts of the Forest-pools of considerable size.
'Let's run,' said Richardson. Denis groaned, but complied with the obliquely-expressed command. He was not a talented runner. He lacked Richardson's style and easy grace, and, as they jumped a ditch which carried a sluggish stream athwart their path, he slipped on an over-irrigated patch of earth, fell over the dog and took a toss into some bushes. The dog barked with irrational enthusiasm and then began to howl. Denis picked himself up, but, even so, found that he could not keep his footing.
From somewhere near at hand a voice called,
'Hi, you there! Stop a minute, will yer?' A forester with an axe appeared in the clearing. There be a dead man hereabouts. Us had to shift un out of our way. You'd best go and fetch the police. Us haven't got time,' he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
SACRED STATUS OF GREAT-AUNT
'It would be unfaithful to nature, and, therefore, unworthy of my pen, were I to represent my young hero as totally guiltless of those common failings to which inexperienced youth is, for the most part, liable.'
'Nimrod'- The Life of a Sportsman
Laura Gavin (née Menzies) was singing a hymn. Her son Hamish was joining in with more enthusiasm than tonal quality.
'See here hath been daw-aw-ning another new day,' bawled Hamish, out of tune but enjoyably. He broke off. 'But it rains, all the same,' he added, in his ordinary voice.
'So it does,' said mother's employer, Dame Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, coming into the morning-room of the Stone House, Wandles Parva.
'Good morning, Mrs Croc, dear,' said Laura.
'Good morning, Mrs Dame, dear,' said her son, minding his manners.
The post,' said Laura, producing several letters. 'There's one in Denis's handwriting. You'd better read it for yourself at breakfast. I haven't opened it.'
' At breakfast ,' said Hamish, with deep meaning. The party took seats at table and Hamish, proud of this accomplishment, poured himself out some coffee. 'And then I have to get along to the vicarage. Latin, mathematics and English literature.' He paused to consider this programme, sighed and then announced that he would have 'grapefruit, porridge, bacon - and - eggs - and - kidneys - and - sausage - and - mustard - and - toast - and - butter - and - marmalade - and - a - second -cup of coffee.' He drew breath.
'That's what Daddy has,' he explained, in a confidential aside to Dame Beatrice, his devoted and
They entered the woods and soon found themselves again on the banks of the stream. It was deep and dark-brown here, and it flowed in steady silence under the trees. There was no path. On the opposite side of the water a woodman and his mate were felling a tree. The two young men stayed for a few minutes to watch, and greetings were exchanged across the stream.
'Well,' said Denis, as they turned left and came out of the woods, 'whichever way either of those dead men came or was taken, it couldn't have been this way. Nobody, either on foot or in a car, could have forded the river hereabouts. Let's do a long cast round and walk our legs off.'
This seemed a reasonable suggestion, but they were not allowed to follow it up. The 'long cast round' foreshadowed by Denis brought them to the edge of another and a greater wood. This wood, moreover, was an enclosure and admittance to it was gained by several widely-spaced gates, to one of which a rudimentary track brought the walkers. At this gate Denis paused. The enclosure was bounded by a strong fence, but the gate was on a latch.
'Shall we?' he asked, unfastening the gate without waiting for an answer. The two of them entered the unresisting fastness and Denis closed the gate behind them. The young men found themselves on a kind of raised banking and among trees, undergrowth and-so slowly does water dry away in the thickly-wooded parts of the Forest-pools of considerable size.
'Let's run,' said Richardson. Denis groaned, but complied with the obliquely-expressed command. He was not a talented runner. He lacked Richardson's style and easy grace, and, as they jumped a ditch which carried a sluggish stream athwart their path, he slipped on an over-irrigated patch of earth, fell over the dog and took a toss into some bushes. The dog barked with irrational enthusiasm and then began to howl. Denis picked himself up, but, even so, found that he could not keep his footing.
From somewhere near at hand a voice called,
'Hi, you there! Stop a minute, will yer?' A forester with an axe appeared in the clearing. There be a dead man hereabouts. Us had to shift un out of our way. You'd best go and fetch the police. Us haven't got time,' he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
SACRED STATUS OF GREAT-AUNT
'It would be unfaithful to nature, and, therefore, unworthy of my pen, were I to represent my young hero as totally guiltless of those common failings to which inexperienced youth is, for the most part, liable.'
'Nimrod'- The Life of a Sportsman
Laura Gavin (née Menzies) was singing a hymn. Her son Hamish was joining in with more enthusiasm than tonal quality.
'See here hath been daw-aw-ning another new day,' bawled Hamish, out of tune but enjoyably. He broke off. 'But it rains, all the same,' he added, in his ordinary voice.
'So it does,' said mother's employer, Dame Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, coming into the morning-room of the Stone House, Wandles Parva.
'Good morning, Mrs Croc, dear,' said Laura.
'Good morning, Mrs Dame, dear,' said her son, minding his manners.
The post,' said Laura, producing several letters. 'There's one in Denis's handwriting. You'd better read it for yourself at breakfast. I haven't opened it.'
' At breakfast ,' said Hamish, with deep meaning. The party took seats at table and Hamish, proud of this accomplishment, poured himself out some coffee. 'And then I have to get along to the vicarage. Latin, mathematics and English literature.' He paused to consider this programme, sighed and then announced that he would have 'grapefruit, porridge, bacon - and - eggs - and - kidneys - and - sausage - and - mustard - and - toast - and - butter - and - marmalade - and - a - second -cup of coffee.' He drew breath.
'That's what Daddy has,' he explained, in a confidential aside to Dame Beatrice, his devoted and
Similar Books
