Grimwood!” said Patchcoat. “And look, here comes his gang!”
It was true. Hurrying through the town gates were Maud, Billy and Jack.
“Ahoy there, gang!” called the Ghost. “Don’t let the sheriff escape!”
At once Jack and Billy ran back to the gates and heaved them shut.
“Blast and bothewation!” cried the sheriff.
He fled into the market stalls with his cloak flapping behind him. But he wasn’t fast enough for Billy.
SWISH! THUNK!
A second later, one of Billy’s arrows pinned the sheriff’s cloak to a large barrel of apples.
“Good shot, Billy!” I cheered.
But in a trice the sheriff wriggled free of his cloak and sped off towards a nearby sewer. This was basically a large (and VERY smelly) trench that ran out of the town through a low arch in the walls.
“You fools!” he cackled, jumping into the sewer and splashing his way towards the arch. “I’m not finished yet!”
But neither was the Ghost.
The crowd ooh -ed and aah -ed as the Ghost leaped from the battlements on to the roof of a house, skated skilfully downthe thatch, then somersaulted neatly on to a horse that was waiting to be hitched to a cartload of turnips.
“Yah!” cried the Ghost. “Go get’im, girl!”
The horse reared up, whinnied and galloped after the sheriff.
Riding with no hands, the Ghost unwound a rope from his waist, tied one end in a loop, swung it round his head, and neatly slipped it over the fleeing sheriff.
“Waah!” wailed the sheriff, as the loop tightened around his waist and arms. “Dwat and double-dwat!”
In one smooth move, the Ghost hauled the sheriff out of the sewer and on to the horse. Then he calmly trotted up to the king.
“Special delivery, sire,” he said. “One rather stinky sheriff!”
“S-sire!” blustered the sheriff. “I can explain everything!”
But at that moment a poop-covered figure ran past us, making for the gates. It was Lurk.
“The deputy sheriff!” I said. “He’s getting away!”
“Stop that man!” ordered the king.
Lurk had a head start on the royal guards. But he hadn’t reckoned with Maud.
“Not so fast, sunshine!” she cried, and started bombarding him with apples from the barrel that still had the sheriff’s cloak pinned to it.
“Aargh!” cried Lurk, as several well-aimed apples bounced off his head. He turned and ran back past us, but then Jack stuck out his staff and tripped him over. The royal guards instantly pounced on him and held him fast.
“To the dungeons with them!” said the king. “I’ll think of a suitablepunishment later. And I suppose I’ll also need a new sheriff.” He sighed. “I should never have believed that letter. I’d give Sir Edward his job back if I knew where he was.”
“Actually, he’s not very far away, sire,” said the Ghost.
“Really?” said the king. “Where is he?”
The Ghost peeled off his mask to reveal a handsome face with piercing blue eyes.
“Here, sire,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. He bowed deeply in his saddle. “Sir Edward Worthington, at your service.”
There were gasps of astonishment.
“Great galloping gargoyles!” exclaimed the king. “Sir Edward. So you’re the Ghost of Grimwood!”
“And the dung merchant,” I piped up. His disguise had been very convincing. And, let’s face it, most people avoided getting too close to a dung merchant if they could help it.
“Indeed,” smiled Sir Edward. “I never fled abroad at all. That was just a story I spread so no one would suspect that I was the Ghost, hiding in the forest with my loyal followers.”
The outlaws stepped forward, and bowed to the king and queen.
“I suspected the sheriff was behind the letter, but I couldn’t prove it,” Sir Edward continued. “The dung merchant’s job was the perfect means of getting in and out of the castle to do a bit of spying. I didn’t find out about the letter, but I overheard the sheriff telling Lurk to collect more and more tax off the peasants but none at all
It was true. Hurrying through the town gates were Maud, Billy and Jack.
“Ahoy there, gang!” called the Ghost. “Don’t let the sheriff escape!”
At once Jack and Billy ran back to the gates and heaved them shut.
“Blast and bothewation!” cried the sheriff.
He fled into the market stalls with his cloak flapping behind him. But he wasn’t fast enough for Billy.
SWISH! THUNK!
A second later, one of Billy’s arrows pinned the sheriff’s cloak to a large barrel of apples.
“Good shot, Billy!” I cheered.
But in a trice the sheriff wriggled free of his cloak and sped off towards a nearby sewer. This was basically a large (and VERY smelly) trench that ran out of the town through a low arch in the walls.
“You fools!” he cackled, jumping into the sewer and splashing his way towards the arch. “I’m not finished yet!”
But neither was the Ghost.
The crowd ooh -ed and aah -ed as the Ghost leaped from the battlements on to the roof of a house, skated skilfully downthe thatch, then somersaulted neatly on to a horse that was waiting to be hitched to a cartload of turnips.
“Yah!” cried the Ghost. “Go get’im, girl!”
The horse reared up, whinnied and galloped after the sheriff.
Riding with no hands, the Ghost unwound a rope from his waist, tied one end in a loop, swung it round his head, and neatly slipped it over the fleeing sheriff.
“Waah!” wailed the sheriff, as the loop tightened around his waist and arms. “Dwat and double-dwat!”
In one smooth move, the Ghost hauled the sheriff out of the sewer and on to the horse. Then he calmly trotted up to the king.
“Special delivery, sire,” he said. “One rather stinky sheriff!”
“S-sire!” blustered the sheriff. “I can explain everything!”
But at that moment a poop-covered figure ran past us, making for the gates. It was Lurk.
“The deputy sheriff!” I said. “He’s getting away!”
“Stop that man!” ordered the king.
Lurk had a head start on the royal guards. But he hadn’t reckoned with Maud.
“Not so fast, sunshine!” she cried, and started bombarding him with apples from the barrel that still had the sheriff’s cloak pinned to it.
“Aargh!” cried Lurk, as several well-aimed apples bounced off his head. He turned and ran back past us, but then Jack stuck out his staff and tripped him over. The royal guards instantly pounced on him and held him fast.
“To the dungeons with them!” said the king. “I’ll think of a suitablepunishment later. And I suppose I’ll also need a new sheriff.” He sighed. “I should never have believed that letter. I’d give Sir Edward his job back if I knew where he was.”
“Actually, he’s not very far away, sire,” said the Ghost.
“Really?” said the king. “Where is he?”
The Ghost peeled off his mask to reveal a handsome face with piercing blue eyes.
“Here, sire,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. He bowed deeply in his saddle. “Sir Edward Worthington, at your service.”
There were gasps of astonishment.
“Great galloping gargoyles!” exclaimed the king. “Sir Edward. So you’re the Ghost of Grimwood!”
“And the dung merchant,” I piped up. His disguise had been very convincing. And, let’s face it, most people avoided getting too close to a dung merchant if they could help it.
“Indeed,” smiled Sir Edward. “I never fled abroad at all. That was just a story I spread so no one would suspect that I was the Ghost, hiding in the forest with my loyal followers.”
The outlaws stepped forward, and bowed to the king and queen.
“I suspected the sheriff was behind the letter, but I couldn’t prove it,” Sir Edward continued. “The dung merchant’s job was the perfect means of getting in and out of the castle to do a bit of spying. I didn’t find out about the letter, but I overheard the sheriff telling Lurk to collect more and more tax off the peasants but none at all
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