Lone pine five, p.11
Lone Pine Five, page 11
"Then he's a liar," Peter said quietly. "Those gipsies aren't dirty and he didn't send them off packing, because we were there. The gipsies are real Romanies. They're clean and kind and friends of ours, and I know they wouldn't do any harm to anybody. They certainly wouldn't want Percy."
"They wouldn't get anything for him," Tom murmured to himself, and then Smithson, with a roar of rage, shouted:
"That's what you are, then - friends o' dirty gipsies, and I reckon you're in on this racket... You'll soon be in trouble if that's your game. Maybe the police would like to know about the spoon that girl has got tied round her neck. Stolen, like as not."
David stepped forward.
"That's not true," he said, "and you know you've no right to say it. That spoon was given to my friend here and we have not seen your son today, nor do we know where he is... Will you please go now?"
"Where's those twin brats?" the woman suddenly yelled. "And that dog too. Where are they, I'd like to know? There's something fishy going on here. Maybe they're hiding in that cave... Go in and look," she added to her husband.
David was determined not to let the Smithsons into the cave, but doubted whether he and Tom between them could stop the big bully. But he was saved from making a difficult decision by Jenny, who pointed down to the stony track and shouted, "Look who's here!"
Down the track, trotting sedately, came Macbeth.
"He's got something in his mouth," Peter laughed. "Good boy, Mackie... Come here!"
David dodged past Mr Smithson and ran down to meet the little dog, who wagged his tail in friendly recognition. Then he stooped and took a folded paper from Mackie's mouth. Two words showed up and he was certainly surprised when he read, "Mister Smithson." After patting the dog, David strolled up to the camp-fire.
"For you," he said as he passed over the message.
The Smithsons, who had come forward a few paces to meet David, took the paper as if it was impregnated with a poison, one touch of which meant death. As they unfolded it and began to read its message, David, out of the corner of his eye, saw Tom whisper something to Jenny, and then, very quietly, behind the Smithsons' backs, they both began to creep away from the fire towards the edge of the plateau. Meanwhile, Smithson's face turned a rich purple as he shouted:
"What is this nonsense? Where is my boy? This is no time for kids' silly jokes... ANSWER ME!"
His wife plucked at his sleeve and pointed down the valley, where Tom and Jenny were running, hand in hand, in the direction of his caravan.
"COME BACK, YOU TWO BRATS!... I'LL HAVE YOU FOR TRESPASS, I WILL!"
And then, with another roar of rage, he grabbed the arm of his unfortunate wife and, stumbling and tripping, began a hopeless chase down the stony track.
Peter began to laugh until the tears streamed down her face.
"That was marvellous, David. Look at them! She'll fall any moment now. She's got high heels. Maybe he'll desert her, but he'll never catch Tom and Jenny. What do you think they're going to do?"
David wiped his eyes.
"I don't know. See if old Wilkins is in their camp, I should think... "
Peter stooped and picked up the note which Smithson had dropped in his rage.
"It's from Dickie, I'm sure. I know his writing. Read it, David."
David read: "Mister Smithson, dear sir. Percy is in our power. He is powerless Percy now. He has been dissiplined very much and is quite quiet and good now. If you want him back you must send our friend Mr Wilkins to come and fetch him. We will swop Percy for Mr Wilkins. You must hang a white flag in the window of your caravan and then send Mr Wilkins up the Dingle to us till he finds us. Never mind who we are who have got Percy. Just show the white flag like we demand."
"Nice work," David commented as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "They shall have breakfast now... and if I'm not mistaken, they're coming for it now. Look hard at that rock down there. I swear I saw Mary peep round it."
He was right. His sister suddenly stood up and yelled:
"All right, Dickie. All clear. Bring him in quick."
Then Dickie arose from hiding and ran forward, leading the captive Percy at the end of a rope. Poor Percy was a sorry sight. His hands were tied behind him, his lank hair was soaking wet, he was gagged with one of his own socks, and there was no fight left in him.
"He doesn't look worth Mr Wilkins," Peter said, "but they ought not to do that, you know, David."
"Quick, David," Dickie said out of the side of his mouth, "gimme a torch, quick. We'll keep this at the back of the cave where the rocks fell. We may have to tie it up, though it's fairly tame now."
Mary grinned wickedly at her seniors.
"Just leave it all to us. We'll manage everything for you. If Smithson comes back without Wilkins don't let him in, will you? Don't let him know we're here."
Before either Peter or David could answer there came a shout from the valley below and they turned to see Tom struggling up the hill towards them. He shouted something which they could not hear, so Peter ran down to meet him.
Tom stopped and struggled to find the breath to speak when he saw her coming, and when she asked, "Anything wrong, Tom? Jenny ail right?" he could only gasp and shake his head.
At last, "Sorry, Peter... Ran all the way up hill... I've got news. Old Wilkins has gone. Just as we got in sight of the caravan we saw him break the door down and run off into the wood. Jen has gone after him, but we thought you ought to know, so I came back... I dodged Ma and Pa Smithson easily enough, but they've gone raving mad, stamping about and swearing they'll skin us all alive... Where are those kids, by the way, and what was in that note?"
Peter laughed and took him by the arm.
"Come and see, Thomas dear, We've got a surprise for you. Dickie and Mary have found some treasure."
9. Rain
When Jenny left Tom she ran down into the clearing, past the Smithsons' camp and into the wood. It was dark under the trees and she had no breath left to shout, so all she could do was to make for the road and hope that she would see Mr Wilkins there. She was near the edge of the wood when a bus passed along the road and she remembered that this would be the first one of the day going to Shrewsbury through Barton Beach. She made a desperate spurt when she heard it stopping, but when she stumbled off the grass verge on to the road she was just in time to see Mr Wilkins boarding it about three hundred yards away. She shouted and waved, but the bus moved on and there seemed nothing to do but stand in the middle of the road without even trying to check the tears of disappointment. What was the best thing to do now?
But luck was really with Jenny for five minutes later a car came up and when she waved frantically it pulled into the side. The driver was a pleasant-looking young woman and she agreed to catch up the bus which Jenny said she had missed. As they drove off the woman looked at her curiously and was about to ask her a question when suddenly the heavens opened and Jenny hastily got on to the subject of weather.
The rain lashed down and but for the windscreen-wiper Jenny would not have known when they passed through Barton. Soon after, they overtook the bus, and she said:
"If you wouldn't mind putting me down at the next bus-stop, that would do beautifully."
She thanked her driver as charmingly as she knew and waved till her car was out of sight. The bus stopped at her signal, and as soon as she got on she realized that Mr Wilkins was not there. He was easy enough to describe and the conductor remembered that he had got off at Barton. "I'm so sorry," poor Jenny said, "but you'll have to stop again. I must go back and find him. It's very urgent."
So she jumped off and started to walk back. She had nothing with which to keep out the rain, and already her sweater was sticking to her shoulders. Then she saw another car approaching in a shower of spray and realized that it was Barton's only taxi, driven by an old friend. She waved him to a stop.
"Bless me, if it ain't young Jen Harman," Bill said cheerfully. "Where are you going and what you been doing? You look cold and wet. Better get back home. Sorry I can't take you, but I got a passenger."
Jenny peeped through the window, and suddenly shouted with joy. In the far corner of the car, looking very thin, frail and tired, was Mr Wilkins. She flung open the door and flopped down on the seat beside him.
"Drive on, Bill," she shouted. "Wherever you're going will do for me, because I know Mr Wilkins and we're going to spend the day together... Don't you know me, Mr Wilkins? It's Jenny. I've been chasing you all the morning."
A gentle smile lit up the old man's face.
"I know you, child, and I know you for a friend who is not too busy to be kind to an old man. But what are you doing here, miles from home and without a coat? Would you like the driver to take you back?"
Meanwhile, Bill, in spite of Jenny's instructions, had stopped the car and was looking round inquiringly.
"What shall I do, sir?" he asked, but before Mr Wilkins could answer Jenny said:
"Please let me come with you, Mr Wilkins. I don't care where you're going if you'll come back with me presently. I came out to find you. I saw you - and here she put her lips to his ear and whispered so that Bill could not hear - "I saw you get out of that caravan and jump on the bus. Do make him drive on and then I'll tell you everything."
Mr Wilkins looked worried, but her appeal was so earnest that he relented.
"Very well, child. You may come with me if you wish. I am going to Shrewsbury on urgent and important business, but your company will not be unwelcome. Proceed, driver!"
So while Bill proceeded Jenny told Mr Wilkins nearly everything that had happened since he had slipped out of the post office at Barton Beach yesterday morning.
"And do please understand," she finished, "that we are all here to help you. We've got our camp in a cave at the top of the dingle and nobody can stop us. We've all got permission to be away from home and be there. Early this morning Tom and me came down to rescue you, but you were too quick for us, because we saw you breaking open the door of the caravan... Will you tell me, Mr Wilkins, did they lock you in?"
The old man looked at her reflectively.
"They did, child... They want me to find Roman treasure for them, but I have now made up my mind to have nothing more to do with them. I have finished with them, Jenny... Completely finished... "
"Really finished?" she asked. "D'you mean you'll leave them altogether?"
"I do, Jenny, and you have helped me to this decision, for not only have I broken a door to escape, but you and your friends, with your courage and loyalty, have made me see what I should do!"
"And will you come back with me presently, when you've done what you've got to do, and stay in our camp and let us help you and protect you?"
"Perhaps I will, child, but first we go to Shrewsbury to find a man called Henry Ringway, who is one of the greatest experts in the world on Roman Britain... You shall come with me, child... Have you still the spoon?"
She nodded. "Do you know this man, Mr Wilkins?"
"I had a letter from him today. Your mother had kept it for me until I called. I have his address in my pocket."
After that everything that happened was rather confusing, and Jenny was never able to recall the precise order of events. She remembered driving through the streets of Shrewsbury in relentless rain, with Mr Wilkins fidgeting beside her, until they reached an old-fashioned house with a gravel drive leading to the front door. Almost before she realized it she was perched on the edge of a large chair in a book-lined study. Mr Wilkins, talking hard, was next to her, while on the other side of the fire a cheerful little round-faced man with a bald head and steel-rimmed glasses sat smiling at them both. This was Mr Ringway, the great expert on Roman Britain, and he was very pleasant and polite to Jenny and not at all curious about her bedraggled appearance nor why she happened to be with Mr Wilkins. She heard the latter say that he believed the remains of a Roman villa might be found in Greystone Dingle.
"And now, my dear Ringway," Mr Wilkins went on, "I want to show you what my young friend here has in her possession. I feel confident you will confirm my verdict that it is genuine. Jenny and a friend of hers bought it cheaply at an auction sale in Bishop's Castle... Now, my dear, will you show your treasure?"
So once again Jenny performed her famous diving trick and pulled up her precious spoon on its ribbon, and if Mr Ringway was a little astonished, he was gentleman enough not to show it. But when he had examined the spoon under a strong desk-lamp and whispered to Mr Wilkins about it, and looked at pictures in a book and scraped the metal and peered at it through a magnifying glass, he got very excited and stuttered a little.
"Remarkable, my child!" he beamed. "A very remarkable find indeed, and although, of course, my own views must be confirmed, I feel confident that this is genuine. You should not carry it like that, my child. It is too valuable. Will you trust me with it?"
But Jenny shook her head and restored her treasure to its hiding-place.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that. My friend gave it to me and I've made a sort of vow not to give it up until we've found Mr Wilkins's treasure... I do hope you're going to help us to do that? I don't think he's explained that there are six of us all pledged to help him, but we don't know as much about these things as you do."
Mr Ringway put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Yes, of course I'll help, and when Mr Wilkins has told me some more, maybe we'll both agree to let you help too... Now you must come and see Mrs Ringway and have a piece of cake and a wash and borrow a coat... Come along!"
Jenny never did know what Mr Wilkins told his friend about the Smithsons, but when she returned to the study both men were looking very serious - so serious that she was afraid that they had perhaps decided against the Lone Piners.
"May we start now, please?" she said brightly. "Mrs Ringway has lent me an oilskin like a tent and a sou'wester that slips over my ears, and I shall be quite warm and dry... Will you please both come to our camp in the cave now and make plans with the others? If you want digging we'll dig for you if you tell us where, and then, of course, we're very good at keeping guard... " She paused and looked anxiously at Mr Wilkins, and then said quietly, "Have you told him about the Smithsons and the caravan? You will excuse me asking, won't you?"
Mr Wilkins smiled gently. "He knows, Jenny. He is coming with us in a few minutes, but I have told him that others would like me to search for them and that they are not to be trusted. As soon as the rain stops we shall begin to search, but we are going somewhere else before the dingle."
It was still raining hard when they got into Mr Ringway's little car. Jenny sat in front with him, and when she told him that she lived at Barton Beach he nodded and said, "I know. Mr Wilkins told me that your family had befriended him. Do you know the Sterlings of Seven Gates - particularly Charles?"
"Of course I do. We all adore Charles, and his father is Peter's uncle... But you don't know Peter, do you? Her real name is Petronella. She is one of my friends."
"That's splendid," said Mr Ringway. "We're going to Seven Gates first because Charles Sterling knows more about these hills and valleys than anyone I know, and from what I hear of him he'll help too."
When at last they came to Seven Gates, Charles was standing in the doorway of one of the barns, watching the rain. Jenny jumped out first and landed in a deep puddle. It was not surprising that Charles failed to recognize her, as the borrowed mackintosh and hat made a very adequate disguise, but he gave her a suitable welcome when she removed her sou'wester. Then she introduced the men, and Charles said that he knew Mr Ringway well by name and was there anything he could do? They told him promptly that there was and that they wanted to talk to him urgently, so Jenny, very tactfully, dashed off into the kitchen.
Mrs Sterling was baking and her face was hot and flushed as she turned from the oven door at Jenny's "Hello, Aunt Carol! I've got news for you."
"Nobody drowned yet, I hope? What's happened, Jenny? And what on earth are you wearing?"
Jenny laughed as she slipped out of the borrowed oilskin.
"I can't begin to tell you about the marvellous adventure we've found," she began. "It's going to be so exciting that I can hardly believe it. I've come in a car with two men who are talking to Charles, and he's coming too, and just anything may happen at any moment now... The others? Oh, they're all right, Aunt Carol. Of course they are. They're safe and sound and dry in a secret camp in a cave... And I forget if you know about Mr Wilkins, but he's escaped from the caravan and he's one of the men outside... "
"Stop! Stop, you crazy child!" Mrs Sterling cried, with her hands over her ears. "Stay here while I go and talk to these men... Help yourself to a cake."
So Jenny sat on the kitchen table, happily swinging her legs, and burned her mouth on a piping hot cake. Presently Charles came in and sat on the other end of the table and looked at her seriously.
"Now, young lady! I have an idea that there is a lot behind this story that I don't know about. I like your old Mr Wilkins, and Mr Ringway seems to think he's on to something, but I want to know what you youngsters are up to. Where are you all? And how is it you are by yourself? It's not like you, Jenny... I don't know where the two Mr Sterlings have gone off on their own this morning, but my stepmother is trying to persuade me to bring all you children back here to camp in the barn... She seems to think you'll all die of pneumonia and that she's responsible to your mums."
"But, Charles!" Jenny said tragically, "this is awful. You'll never make us come back now, will you? You wouldn't be so horribly, impossibly beastly as that."
"Never mind all that tragic stuff, Jenny. It doesn't work with me. Just tell me where you are and what you're all supposed to be doing."
Jenny looked at him soulfully, but it seemed to make no difference, so she gulped and told him everything.
"Very well, Jen," Charles said at last. "I believe you. I have an idea we ought to hurry, for your pals may be in trouble by now and the rain is worse than ever. I don't remember rain like this for years... "
