Five Get Into Trouble (5 page)

The noise came nearer. It wasn't a crashing noise, like Richard had made. It was a stealthy noise as if people were gradually closing in. Dick didn't much like it. Who was coming? Or perhaps — what was coming? Was it some wild animal — perhaps a badger and its mate? The boy stood listening.

A silence came. No more movements. No more rustling. Had he imagined it al ? He wished Anne and the others were near him. It was eerie, standing there in the darkening wood, waiting and watching.

He decided that he had imagined it al . He thought it would be a very good idea if he lighted his bicycle lamp, then the light would soon dispel his sil y ideas! He fumbled about for it on the front of his handlebars. He switched it on and a very comforting little glow at once spread a circle of light in the little del .

Dick was just about to call up to Anne to tell her his absurd fears when the noises came again! There was absolutely no mistake about them this time.

A bril iant light suddenly pierced through the trees and fel on Dick. He blinked.

'Ah — so there you are, you little misery!' said a harsh voice, and someone came striding over to the dell. Somebody else followed behind.

'What do you mean?' asked Dick, amazed. He could not see who the men were because of the bril iant torch-light in his eyes.

'We've been chasing you for miles, haven't we? And you thought you'd get away. But we'd got you all the time!' said the voice.

'I don't understand this,' said Dick, putting on a bold voice. 'Who are you?'

'You know very well who we are,' said the voice. 'Didn't you run away screaming as soon as you saw Rooky? He went one way after you, and we went another — and we soon got you, didn't we? Now, you come along with us, my pretty!'

Al this explained one thing clearly to Dick — that it was Richard they had been after, for some reason or other — and they thought he was Richard!

'I'm not the boy you're looking for,' he said. 'You'l get into trouble if you touch me!'

'What's your name, then?' asked the first man.

Dick told him.

'Oh — so you're Dick — and isn't Dick short for Richard? You can't fool us with that baby-talk,' said the first man. 'You're the Richard we want, all right. Richard Kent, see?'

'I'm not Richard Kent!' shouted Dick, as he felt the man's hand clutching his arm suddenly. 'You take your hands off me. You wait til the police hear of this!'

'They won't hear of it,' said the man. 'They won't hear anything at al ! Come on — and don't struggle or shout or you'l be sorry. Once you're at Owl's Dene we'll deal properly with you!'

Anne was sitting absolutely petrified up in the tree. She couldn't move or speak. She tried to call out to poor Dick, but her tongue wouldn't say a word. She had to sit there and hear her brother being dragged away by two strange ruffians. She almost fell out of the tree in fright, and she heard him shouting and yelling when he was dragged away. She could hear the sound of crashing for a long time.

She began to cry. She didn't dare to climb down because she was trembling so much she was afraid she would lose her hold and fall.

She must wait for George and Julian to come back. Suppose they didn't? Suppose they had been caught too? She would be al by herself in the tree al night long. Anne sobbed up in the tree-top, holding on tightly.

The stars came out above her head, and she saw the very bright one again.

And then she heard the sound of footsteps and voices. She stiffened up in the tree. Who was it this time? Oh let it be Julian and George and Timmy; let it be Julian, George and Timmy!

7 Richard tells a queer tale

Julian and George had managed to find a little farm-house tucked away in a hol ow. A trio of dogs set up a terrific barking as they drew near. Timmy growled and the hair rose up on his neck. George put her hand on his collar.

'I won't go any nearer with Timmy,' she said. 'I don't want him to be set on by three dogs at once!'

So Julian went down to the farm-house by himself. The dogs made such a noise and looked so fierce that he paused in the farm-yard. He was not in the least afraid of dogs, but these looked most unpleasant, especially one big mongrel whose teeth were bared in a very threatening manner.

A voice cal ed out to him. 'Clear off, you! We don't want no strangers here. When strangers come our eggs and hens go too!'

'Good evening,' cal ed Julian, politely. 'We are four children camping out in the woods for the night. Could you let us have any food? I'll pay wel for it.'

There was a pause. The man pul ed his head in at the window he was shouting from, and was evidently speaking to someone inside.

He stuck it out again. 'I told you, we don't hold with strangers here, never did. We've only got plain bread and butter, and we can give you some hardboiled eggs and milk and a bit of ham. That's all.'

'That'l do fine,' cal ed Julian, cheerily. 'Just what we'd like. Shall I come and get it?'

'Not unless you want to be torn to pieces by them dogs,' came back the voice. 'You wait there. I'l be out when the eggs is done.'

'Blow,' said Julian, walking back to George. 'That means we'l have to kick our heels here for a while. What an unpleasant fel ow! I don't think much of his place, do you!'

George agreed with him. It was il -kept, the barn was falling to bits, rusty bits of machinery lay here and there in the thick grass. The three dogs kept up a continual barking and howling, but they did not come any nearer. George stil kept her hand firmly on Timmy. He was bristling al over!

'What a lonely place to live in,' said Julian. 'No house within miles, I should think. No telephone. I wonder what they'd do if somebody was il or had an accident and needed help.'

'I hope they'l hurry up with that food,' said George, getting impatient. 'It'l be dark soon.

I'm getting hungry too.'

At last somebody came out of the tumble-down farmhouse. It was a bearded man, stooping and old, with long untidy hair and a pronounced limp. He had a grim and ugly face. Neither Julian nor George liked him.

'Here you are,' he said, waving his three dogs away behind him. 'Get back, you!' He aimed a kick at the nearest dog, and it yelped with pain.

'Oh don't!' said George. 'You hurt him.'

'He's my dog, ain't he?' said the man, angrily. 'You mind your own business!' He kicked out at another dog and scowled at George.

'What about the food?' said Julian, holding out his hand, anxious to be gone before trouble came between Timmy and the other dogs. 'George, take Timmy back a bit. He's upsetting the dogs.'

'Well, I like that!' said George. 'It's those other dogs that are upsetting him.'

She dragged Timmy back a few yards, and he stood there with al his hackles up on his neck, growling in a horrible way.

Julian took the food which was done up carelessly in old brown paper. 'Thanks,' he said.

'How much?'

'Five pounds,' said the old man, surprisingly.

'Don't be sil y,' said Julian. He looked quickly at the food. 'I'll give you twenty-five pence for it, and that's more than it's worth. There's hardly any ham.'

'I said five pounds,' said the man, sul enly. Julian looked at him. 'He must be mad!' he thought. He held out the food to the ugly old fel ow.

'Well, take it back,' he said. 'I haven't got five pounds to give you for food. Twenty-five pence is the most I can spare. Good night.'

The old man pushed the food back, and held out his other hand in silence. Julian fished in his pocket and brought out twenty-five pence. He placed them in the man's dirty hand, wondering why on earth the fel ow had asked him for such a ridiculous sum before. The man put the money in his pocket.

'Clear off,' he said, suddenly, in a growling voice. 'We don't want strangers here, stealing our goods. I'll set my dogs on you if you come again!'

Julian turned to go, half-afraid that the extraordinary old man would set his dogs on him.

The fel ow stood there in the half-dark, yelling abuse at Julian and George as they made their way out of the farm-yard.

'Well! We'll never go there again!' said George, furious at their treatment. 'He's mad as a hatter.'

'Yes. And I don't much fancy his food, either,' said Julian. 'Stil , it's all we'll get tonight!'

They followed Timmy back to the woods. They were glad they had him, because otherwise they might have missed the way. But Timmy knew it. Once he had been along a certain route Timmy always knew it again. He ran on now, sniffing here and there, occasional y waiting for the others to catch him up.

Then he stiffened and growled softly. George put her hand on his collar. Somebody must be coming.

Somebody was coming! It was Richard on his way to find them. He was stil shouting and yelling, and the noise he made had already come to Timmy's sharp ears. It soon came to Julian's, and George's too, as they stood there waiting.

'Julian! Where are you? Where's Timmy? I want Timmy! They're after me, I tel you; they're after me.'

'Listen — it sounds like Richard? said Julian, startled. 'What in the world is he doing here?

— and yelling like that too! Come on — we must find out. Something's happened. I hope Dick and Anne are all right.'

They ran up the path as fast as they could in the twilight. Soon they met Richard, who had now stopped shouting, and was stumbling along, half-sobbing.

'Richard! What's up?' cried Julian. Richard ran to him and flung himself against him.

Timmy did not go to him, but stood there in surprise. George stared through the twilight, puzzled. What in the world had happened?

'Julian! Oh Julian! I'm scared stiff,' panted Richard, hanging on to Julian's arm.

'Pull yourself together,' said Julian, in the calm voice that had made a good effect on Richard. 'I bet you're just making a sil y fuss. What's happened? Did you find your aunt was out or something? And come racing after us?'

'My aunt's away,' said Richard, speaking in a calmer voice. 'She . . .'

'Away!' said Julian, in surprise. 'But didn't your mother know that when she said you could

. . .?'

'I didn't ask my mother's permission to come,' cried Richard. 'I didn't even go back home when you thought I did! I just biked straight to Croker's Corner and waited for you. I wanted to come with you, you see — and I knew my mother wouldn't let me.'

This was said with a great air of bravado. Julian was disgusted.

'I'm ashamed of you,' he said. 'Tel ing us lies like that!'

'I didn't know my aunt was away,' said Richard, all his sudden cockiness gone when he heard Julian's scornful voice. 'I thought she'd be there — and I was going to tell her to telephone my mother and say I'd gone for a trip with you. Then I thought I'd come biking after you and — and . . .'

'And tell us your aunt was away, and could you come with us?' finished Julian, stil scornful y. 'A deceitful and ridiculous plan. I'd have sent you back at once; you might have known that.'

'Yes, I know. But I might have had a whole night camping out with you,' said Richard, in a small voice. 'I've never done things like that. I . . .'

'What I want to know is, what were you scared of when you came rushing along, yelling and crying,' said Julian, impatiently.

'Oh Julian — it was horrible,' said Richard, and he suddenly clutched Julian's arm again.

'You see — I biked down back to my aunt's gate — and out into the lane — and I was just going along the way to Middlecombe Woods when a car met me. And I saw who was in the car!'

'Well, who?' said Julian, feeling as if he could shake Richard.

'It was — it was Rooky!' said Richard, in a trembling voice.

'Who's he?' said Julian, and George gave an impatient click. Would Richard never tell his story properly?

'Don't you remember? — I told you about him. He was the fellow with thick lips and a huge nose that my father had for a bodyguard last year — and he chucked him out,' said Richard. 'He always swore he'd have his revenge on my father — and on me too because I told tales about him to Dad and it was because of that he was sacked. So when I caught sight of him in the car I was terrified!'

'I see,' said Julian, seeing light. 'What happened then?'

'Rooky recognized me, and turned the car round and chased me on my bike,' said Richard, beginning to tremble again as he remembered that alarming ride. 'I pedal ed for all I was worth — and when I got to Middlecombe Woods I rode into the path there, hoping the car couldn't follow. It couldn't, of course — but the men leapt out — there were three of them, two I didn't know — and they chased me on foot. I pedalled and pedal ed, and then I ran into a tree or something and fell off. I chucked my bike into a bush, and ran into the thick undergrowth to hide.'

'Go on,' said Julian, as Richard paused. 'What next?'

'The men split up then — Rooky went one way to find me, and the other two went another way. I waited til I thought they were gone, then I crept out and tore down the path again, hoping to find you. I wanted Timmy, you see, I thought he'd go for the men.'

Timmy growled. He certainly would have gone for them!

'Two of the men must have been hiding, waiting to hear me start up again,' went on Richard. 'And as soon as I began to run, they chased after me. I put them off the trail, though — I dodged and hid and hid and dodged — and then I came to Dick! He was mending a puncture. But you weren't with him — and it was you and Timmy I wanted — I knew the men would soon be catching me up, you see, so I tore on and on — and at last I found you. I've never been so glad in my life.'

It was a most extraordinary story — but Julian hardly paused to think about it. An alarming thought had come into his head. What about Dick and Anne? What would have happened to them if the men had suddenly come across them?

'Quick!' he said to George. 'We must get back to the others! Hurry!'

8 What's the best thing to do?

Stumbling through the dark wood, Julian and George hurried as best they could. Timmy hurried too, knowing that something was worrying both his friends. Richard followed behind, half-crying again. He real y had been very much afraid.