haunt. "Stilian! Kit! Are you up there?" she called from the bottom of the stairs. "Judge Hugh wants to see you in his study."
The boys tumbled down the stairs. "What's he want? Did he hear something?" Stilian asked.
"You'll have to ask him that. But he didn't look like bad news, I don't think."
Judge Hugh was reading some papers at his desk when they went in. "Ah, boys. Thank you for coming. I've received some good news." He smiled tiredly at Stilian and tapped on an envelope on his blotter. "Justin returned today from Rosset's Grade. Your father has signed the application for Grayholme. You are both our responsibility now--at least so long as you stay in school. Your father decided to do what was best for you."
Stilian didn't quite know what to do with his face, but Kit jumped into the air as high as he could. "Yahoo!"
Stilian mustered a wobbly smile through stinging eyes.
"When can we leave?" asked Kit.
"Tomorrow, if you want. There's a train of drays due to take supplies out to Grayholme in the morning. We'll be sorry to see you go."
* * *
Kit jumped off the back of the supply wagon and jogged along side. Their route towards Grayholme followed a rutted track along the Bug River as it flowed slowly through the last of the inland plain. Later, as the river picked up speed and prepared to rush through Windy Gap to the sea, they would split off and climb the shoulder of the coastal range to the shelf where the small community of Grayholme perched between hill and mountain, above the Gap.
"Did you see that eagle snatch a fish right out of the water? I wish I could fly like that." Kit threw out his arms and swooped.
Stilian laughed and swung his legs back and forth off the back of the heavy dray. Between his dancing feet and waving arms, Kit looked younger than his fifteen years. Joy seemed to radiate off him like steam from a boiling pot. It left Stilian warm and a little breathless.
"Matron told me they make kites at Grayholme out of silk and reed that are so big they can lift a man right off the ground. They fly them from the hillside over Windy Gap."
"Right off the ground!"
"That's what she said." Kit frowned. "She might have been pulling my leg."
Stilian laughed. "Who could kid about a thing like that?"
They neared the end of the second day of a four day journey. The Coastals looked closer and higher with every mile. Their driver, Bran, one of the teamsters who was responsible for the big drays that carried supplies over this route, said they would see Windy Gap tomorrow, and start the day-long climb to Grayholme the morning after that. "You might as well get off and trot on up from there, for you'll surely go faster than these heavy lugs--even after we add extra teams at Bug Station."
Later, as the setting sun turned the sky orange behind the Coastals, they made camp by the river, and the men built a bonfire to ward off the late autumn chill.
"Won't be long now before those mountains'll be wearing a winter shawl," said Bran. "Once the snow comes, there will be no more wagons up the Ramp, 'til the thaw. You'll not see us for three months or more."
The next day was long. They reached Bug Station, where fresh horses were corralled at the bottom of the Ramp, after sundown. Kit insisted on setting out their blanket rolls under a wagon, saying that he wanted to "see Grayholme as the sun rises."
Bran chuckled, "You'll be back in the station lookin' for a warm bunk, soon as that fire dies down, I'm thinkin'." But Kit was not dissuaded. That night was cold indeed, and Stilian woke to find Kit fitted around him like a spoon to melon. The sun was rising and had turned the Coastals pink. Just barely visible, far up the hillside, at the base of the nearest peak, the morning sun warmed the gray stone walls and towers of a toy castle.
"Kit! Wake up. Look, look!"
After a morning wash and a last farewell to the now raucous Bug, the boys made lunch packets from the teamster's supplies and set off up the Ramp to
The boys tumbled down the stairs. "What's he want? Did he hear something?" Stilian asked.
"You'll have to ask him that. But he didn't look like bad news, I don't think."
Judge Hugh was reading some papers at his desk when they went in. "Ah, boys. Thank you for coming. I've received some good news." He smiled tiredly at Stilian and tapped on an envelope on his blotter. "Justin returned today from Rosset's Grade. Your father has signed the application for Grayholme. You are both our responsibility now--at least so long as you stay in school. Your father decided to do what was best for you."
Stilian didn't quite know what to do with his face, but Kit jumped into the air as high as he could. "Yahoo!"
Stilian mustered a wobbly smile through stinging eyes.
"When can we leave?" asked Kit.
"Tomorrow, if you want. There's a train of drays due to take supplies out to Grayholme in the morning. We'll be sorry to see you go."
* * *
Kit jumped off the back of the supply wagon and jogged along side. Their route towards Grayholme followed a rutted track along the Bug River as it flowed slowly through the last of the inland plain. Later, as the river picked up speed and prepared to rush through Windy Gap to the sea, they would split off and climb the shoulder of the coastal range to the shelf where the small community of Grayholme perched between hill and mountain, above the Gap.
"Did you see that eagle snatch a fish right out of the water? I wish I could fly like that." Kit threw out his arms and swooped.
Stilian laughed and swung his legs back and forth off the back of the heavy dray. Between his dancing feet and waving arms, Kit looked younger than his fifteen years. Joy seemed to radiate off him like steam from a boiling pot. It left Stilian warm and a little breathless.
"Matron told me they make kites at Grayholme out of silk and reed that are so big they can lift a man right off the ground. They fly them from the hillside over Windy Gap."
"Right off the ground!"
"That's what she said." Kit frowned. "She might have been pulling my leg."
Stilian laughed. "Who could kid about a thing like that?"
They neared the end of the second day of a four day journey. The Coastals looked closer and higher with every mile. Their driver, Bran, one of the teamsters who was responsible for the big drays that carried supplies over this route, said they would see Windy Gap tomorrow, and start the day-long climb to Grayholme the morning after that. "You might as well get off and trot on up from there, for you'll surely go faster than these heavy lugs--even after we add extra teams at Bug Station."
Later, as the setting sun turned the sky orange behind the Coastals, they made camp by the river, and the men built a bonfire to ward off the late autumn chill.
"Won't be long now before those mountains'll be wearing a winter shawl," said Bran. "Once the snow comes, there will be no more wagons up the Ramp, 'til the thaw. You'll not see us for three months or more."
The next day was long. They reached Bug Station, where fresh horses were corralled at the bottom of the Ramp, after sundown. Kit insisted on setting out their blanket rolls under a wagon, saying that he wanted to "see Grayholme as the sun rises."
Bran chuckled, "You'll be back in the station lookin' for a warm bunk, soon as that fire dies down, I'm thinkin'." But Kit was not dissuaded. That night was cold indeed, and Stilian woke to find Kit fitted around him like a spoon to melon. The sun was rising and had turned the Coastals pink. Just barely visible, far up the hillside, at the base of the nearest peak, the morning sun warmed the gray stone walls and towers of a toy castle.
"Kit! Wake up. Look, look!"
After a morning wash and a last farewell to the now raucous Bug, the boys made lunch packets from the teamster's supplies and set off up the Ramp to
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