Lone pine five, p.5
Lone Pine Five, page 5
And later, when her head was at last on her pillow, she remembered her spoon. She turned over, put out her hand and felt her treasure hanging on its ribbon from the chair by her bed.
4. Enter Percy
Early next morning Witchend was bustling with activity as the Lone Piners prepared for the camping holiday. Peter had come down to help and unbelievably the cavalcade started off to time. In the front of the car with Mr Morton was Peter, while David, the twins and Macbeth were squashed into the back with Tom, who was waiting at Ingles with his rucksack.
They had travelled perhaps ten miles and were approaching a fairly sharp bend to the left when there came the imperious sound of a horn not very far behind them. Mr Morton glanced in the driving mirror and signalled the car behind him to slow down and not attempt to pass him on the bend. But the driver of the big car in the rear must have been in a great hurry, for he kept his finger on the horn. Mr Morton signalled again that he should keep his place, and applied his own brakes for the corner, and just as Peter said, "There are some motor horns I hate. This sounds loud and expensive and, anyway, the driver is very rude," Mr Morton realized that the stranger was coming up fast on his right and attempting to pass him on the corner. He put his hand on the horn and braked harder as a long, sleek, pale-green car, pulling a caravan, drew ahead and then suddenly cut in sharply across his bonnet. Mr Morton drew in farther to the left of the road and felt his wheels lurch on the grass verge and then slip sideways into the narrow ditch.
When Mr Morton got out his face was white with rage. The green car was already nearly out of sight, and behind him their own trailer had one wheel in the ditch and had almost overturned. Tom and David followed him, and after uncoupling it, soon had it on the road.
"Thanks, boys," Mr Morton said. "Now I'll get our car out properly and we'll couple up again if there's no other damage done, and I don't think there is... I'd like to meet that fellow again, for in all my experience I don't think I've ever seen worse driving or worse manners... Did you get his number, Peter?"
She shook her head ruefully. "I'm sorry. I'll never forget the car, though. I'd know it anywhere, wouldn't you, David?"
"Sure of it. I'd know the caravan too."
"If ever I see that car again I'll stick my knife in all four tyres," Dickie remarked between clenched teeth.
"It's not often I take a real dislike to anyone," Tom added, "but I saw that chap's face as he went by, and I tell you that he was enjoying himself. He thinks he's clever... and the caravan looked like a hotel on wheels... He would have one like that... "
None of them had much to say for the next ten miles. The winding road along which they were travelling was densely wooded on their left, but beyond the trees was the bulk of the Stiperstones, and they knew that they were only a mile or so from Barton Beach.
Mr Morton was taking a right-hand turn when Peter suddenly said excitedly.
"Please stop a minute. We've caught up with them."
Mr Morton braked and pulled in. About fifty yards ahead, just where a track through the wood met the road, was the green car and the caravan.
"Ah!" Mr Morton said, "this is very fortunate. I shall enjoy a word with that gentleman! But I think perhaps you had all better stay here, because what I have to say is not fit for young ears."
Mary leaned forward from the back of the car.
"Let us approach with stealth, Daddy. I bet they're up to something beastly, and I'd like to catch them at it. I'm sure I can see them standing under the trees."
"Let's have a lingering revenge," Dickie echoed. "Let's make them pray for mercy and then not do it - the mercy, I mean."
"They are up to something peculiar," Peter said as she got out and stood on the edge of the road. "I think they're arguing about something... Tell you what, David. If we could get the car up nearer without them noticing, will you slip out with me, hide behind their caravan and see what's happening? I'd like to know what they're doing. Looks as if there's a boy there and someone else as well."
Mr Morton smiled. "You're as bad as Jenny, Peter, but I think it's not a bad idea."
The twins protested that they were being left out again, but Tom whispered that it was their particular job to keep Mackie quiet as their car slid silently forward.
About ten yards from the strangers Mr Morton stopped and switched off the engine, and Peter and David stepped quietly out on to the road. Now they could hear voices - ugly voices - raised in argument as, on tiptoe, they crept closer until, hidden behind the back of the caravan, they were able to relax and listen.
A man's voice first - "Now just you listen to me, Uncle. You don't want to be wandering about this country by yourself! You know you don't. You know you're not well enough and that you'll only do yourself harm if you go racketing around here all on your own looking for old things and the like. You might be ill again with one of your bad heads and then where would you be without those that's used to caring for you and-and-cherishing you!" he finished unexpectedly.
Peter looked at David in astonishment. The voice, apart from the words of the speaker, was certainly very unpleasant.
Then came an answer - querulous and unhappy. The voice of an old man.
"Just let me alone, Herbert. It's not much I ask of you at any time, but now I beg you both to go away and leave me here. I was happy enough until you came, and well looked after. Please go away."
At this David, who was nearer the side of the road, pulled Peter closer to him, and they both peered round the side of the caravan.
Just at the side of the track which led up through the trees was a gnarled hawthorn tree, against which an old man was standing. He was, of course, Jenny's friend, Mr Wilkins, and he looked frightened.
Three people stood facing him, and at first glance Peter found it difficult to decide which looked the most unpleasant. The man was heavily built and dark complexioned. Although probably under middle age, he was plump with good living, and even from where they stood David and Peter could see grease glistening on his black hair. He was wearing a buff-coloured sports jacket above smartly-creased checked trousers. A cigar was held between his full lips, and a large ring sparkled on the little finger of his left hand.
Behind him was a small woman wearing a scarlet dress, a short fur coat and white shoes. Rings sparkled from her fingers and pearls encircled her throat. Her voice was shrill and ugly, reminding Peter of a parrot, as she said:
"You know perfectly well that you promised to spend your holidays with us, Uncle, and you know quite well that Percy here is ready to help you search for those old things you hope to find... You know you can't do all this by yourself. We want to help you, Uncle... Reely we do, you know... Why won't you join up with us like you said and let Percy help you?... You know how clever he is, Uncle dear."
Uncle dear regarded his great-nephew with undisguised revulsion, and so did David and Peter. Percy was quite unlike any boy they had ever seen before. He might have been thirteen, but it was difficult to tell, as he was tall and thin. Any normal boy on holiday in the country, Peter thought, would be in casual clothes. This boy was wearing a double-breasted flannel suit. His face was white, and while his parents were talking he was idly kicking stones in the direction of Mr Wilkins's unprotected ankles.
"There's only one person Percy is likely to help," Peter whispered with her mouth against David's ear, "and that's Percy. What shall we do now?"
"Quiet for just a minute longer," David begged, making signs behind his back to the others in the car. "Listen. They're at him again."
"Now do stop this nonsense, Uncle," the man said. "We can't stop here all day now we have found you. Come back with us now and we'll have a nice cosy chat together about your ideas of finding something valuable round here, and then we'll all work together and help you... All we got to do is to co-operate and be business-like."
"But I don't want to be business-like," Mr Wilkins pleaded. "There's nothing I hate more. That's why I want to have my holiday by myself in my own way. I never meant you to come with me. It's only once a year I can go away and be by myself and do what I want to do. Please go now and stop that boy kicking stones at me... I like it here and I like wandering round by myself - and besides, I've found a friend."
The man stepped forward and put his hand on the lapel of the old man's coat.
"And what else have you found? That's what we want to know. What else have you found, slinking round these woods like the greedy old wolf you are? No more of this now... What have you found?"
Just as David moved forward from behind the caravan a noise from the road made them all turn. Mackie had jumped from Mary's restraining arms through the open window of the car and rushed up to David, barking wildly. The three bullies turned at once, but not before Peter had seen the old man cringe at the way in which he had just been questioned.
Then the twins and Tom jumped out of the car and walked towards the caravan, while Mr Morton was getting out of the driving seat.
"Come here, Mackie," David yelled as the little dog pranced menacingly towards the group under the trees.
But the gallant Macbeth pretended not to hear. Down he went on his forepaws like a miniature black lion, and terrifying growls rumbled in his throat.
Percy never hesitated. He stooped, picked up the largest stone within reach, and flung it with all his strength at the dog. He was too near to miss and Mackie yelped with pain as the stone glanced off his thick coat.
Then a lot of things happened. Dickie and Mary, speechless with fury, dashed forward as David picked up the dog and ran back with him to his father.
"Shut him in the car, Dad. I don't think he's hurt much, but that brat might have killed him... I'll tackle this chap now."
While Mr Morton, who did not seem to realize that he was being ordered about by his own son, turned back obligingly with the squirming and furious little dog under his arm, David and Peter faced the enemy. The boy fidgeted a little uneasily as Peter fixed him with her eye, the woman's mouth fell open and the man began to bluster.
"What's all this about? What do you kids want? What's the idea?"
"Did you see what that boy did to our dog?" Peter began, but David put a hand on her arm and broke in, "Just a sec, Peter." Then to the man, "My father would like a word with you in a minute, sir. We've been looking for you... I suppose you know you nearly killed us all just now by passing us on a corner and forcing us into the ditch?"
The man flushed. "Nonsense, boy. No such thing. Never done such a thing. Must have been somebody else. You're mistaken."
"Oh, no, we're not," Peter flashed. "I'd know your car anywhere and that caravan too. We've got your number and there were plenty of witnesses."
"Get out of 'ere," the man shouted, and then stopped in amazement at the sight of the twins hurling themselves at his precious Percy. Just behind came Tom, who grabbed them as Percy turned, ready to fly to the shelter of the wood.
There was a brief and undignified scuffle during which Mary, to her everlasting shame, kicked Tom on the ankle. He grinned and said:
"No good fighting the wrong man, Mary... Just go steady, because he's ready to run away. Just what you'd expect from a chap who throws stones at little dogs."
Mary turned and, with an odd gesture, touched his cheek.
"Sorry, Tom... All right, Dickie... Let's tell him what we think of him. Listen, you beastly little bully. You might have killed our dog. I believe you tried to kill him and we'll never, never, NEVER forget what you did. We'll find out who you are and we'll follow you wherever you go, and if Mackie is really hurt my father will help us to send you to prison - "
Tom's hand was fortunately still on Dickie's collar as he jumped forward with clenched fists.
"You're bigger'n me. 'Bout six inches. Take off your jacket and fight me now... I dare you to... Come on! Come and knock me about instead of throwing stones at little dogs... So you won't? Maybe you'd rather fight my sister Mary here, but she'd lick you with one hand behind her back... Do you see that, Tom? He's afraid. I knew he would be."
Percy, quite obviously, was afraid. He licked his lips and muttered something about "Stupid, common little kids," and backed away a few steps up the track.
While all this was going on Mr Morton, rather amused, was leaning against the bonnet of his car. It had not taken him long to judge the type of person with whom they had to deal, he had the number of the car, he was certain Mackie was not seriously hurt, and he trusted the Lone Piners to be a match for any hooligans. But while David stood by Tom and the twins, Peter slipped by the Smithsons - for the bullies were the Smithsons, of course - and walked quietly up to the pathetic Mr Wilkins.
When Peter tried to be friendly and charming few could resist her, and when she smiled at old Mr Wilkins and said, "Good morning! I'm sure you must be a friend of our friend Jenny Harman. Aren't you staying with her at Barton Beach?" he looked a little happier and tried a smile in return.
"Indeed I am, young lady, but I have no idea how you could know."
"Never mind about that, Mr Wilkins. But do, please, understand that we are all friends of Jenny and we're on our way to meet her and go camping... Would you like to come with us now?"
The old man looked at her with interest and smiled again. Then he glanced at the noisy group twenty yards away, and winced a little as Mr Smithson left the twins and came towards him. Peter had her back to the road and was not sure why Mr Wilkins did not answer her question.
"There's plenty of room, Mr Wilkins, Why don't you come with us?" Then she dropped her voice. "We've really come to help you. Jenny did tell you we were on our way, didn't she? Come with us now, please!"
The approaching Smithson heard the last appeal. His face was scarlet with rage as he turned on Mr Wilkins and snarled, "Be quiet, you!" Then, "Now, my girl, we've had enough of this. Don't know who you are or what you want, but I'll trouble you to mind your own business and clear out... Understand?"
Peter looked at him scornfully.
"Don't you dare to touch me," she said. "Put your hands down."
Smithson changed his tactics. He tried to smile at her and said quietly:
"Fact is, my dear, the old chap is not quite - you know, not quite well. He's in our charge, you see, and you mustn't take too much notice of what he says."
Peter turned her back on him.
"If you'd like to come to Barton now, right away, with us, Mr Wilkins, you'll be very welcome."
She stood waiting for him to reply and, by an odd coincidence, the shouting and wrangling a few yards away stopped at that moment and it was almost as if everyone was waiting for his answer. Then, to his own and everyone else's surprise, he looked up and said a little fearfully, "Thank you, my dear. That is very courteous of you. I shall be glad to accept your offer."
"But you can't do that," Smithson blustered. "Come back, you stupid old fool."
Mr Wilkins put a hand on Peter's shoulder and walked steadily ahead, ignoring Mrs Smithson and Percy.
"This is Mr Wilkins, David," Peter said as they joined him. "He's coming with us to Barton."
David smiled and nodded before running back to tell his father. The twins and Tom were just as quick to see what was happening, and immediately formed a bodyguard for the old man.
When they reached the road Mr Morton shook hands with Mr Wilkins and made him welcome.
"I understand from Petronella that you would like a lift into Barton at once. Delighted to help... Mary! Remove this dangerous dog from the car now and help this gentleman in... Don't whisper like that, Dickie. Speak out. I'm sure you wouldn't say anything you didn't want anyone else to hear."
"Wouldn't I?" Dickie protested. "You bet I would. I can think of a hundred things. Anyway, what I was going to say was that Mary and me and Mackie would like to walk. It can't be far to Barton and we'd rather enjoy it - partickerly as you'll want to get off in a hurry," he added, with a wink of tremendous significance.
Mr Smithson was now so angry that he could hardly speak as he came up to the car. But he was no match for Mr Morton, who pretended at first not to notice him as he got into the driving seat. "Is it all right to leave those twins?" Peter whispered. "I mean - won't these awful people attack them or something?"
Mr Morton laughed. "Much more likely that the twins will attack them. They'll be all right, Peter. I wish I could stay and watch the fun."
He leaned from the window. "So long, you two. It shouldn't take you long to walk, and I'll wait there for you before I start back again." Then he nodded pleasantly to Smithson. "Good morning. You will be hearing from me later," and let in the clutch.
It was all too easy for the twins. They just stood around and watched the Smithsons, and moved when they moved. They stared at them until they fidgeted, and when they saw Mr Smithson's fists clenching and unclenching at his sides they were particularly glad they had decided to stay behind.
They behaved with scrupulous politeness and pretended not to hear Percy's nasty little remarks, but they watched them all the time until at last they got back into the green car. Then they stepped forward together and smiled upon the sulky Percy.
"We shall see you again, dear Percy," Mary whispered.
"You've got a surprise coming, you dirty little snivelling bully," Dickie muttered. "We'll never forget you, and neither will Mackie."
When the car was out of sight they looked at each other and laughed.
"That was fun," was all that Dickie said - Then Mary protested that it was too hot to start walking on the road to Barton.
"If we wait long enough," she said reasonably, "Daddy will come back and fetch us. I feel like exploring this little wood. This track leads somewhere interesting, I'm sure."
Dickie could never resist doing something unplanned, so very willingly they turned up the track. After a hundred yards they found themselves at the foot of a deep and sinister-looking valley. Although grass, bracken and heather were growing on the lower slopes and round the stony bed of a stream which twisted sharply away from them to the left instead of following the track through the wood, the "feel" of the place was forbidding. Two black-and-white magpies flapped out of the trees and up the valley, and then Dickie pointed upwards and said, "I thought so, Mary. There's that old Devil's Chair up on the top. This is one of the Stiperstone dingles, and I don't like it much. What shall we do?"
