A chill breath rose from the water. The daisies closed their petals.
“We will say good-night,” said the sheep, “it is too cold for our lambs
to sleep beside the stream. Good-night, little dormouse! All friends,
good-night!” The sheep stately and peaceful, moved up the pasture,
feeding as they went; their lambs gambolled beside them. The last beams
of the setting sun shone again upon the flock, when they reached the
heights. Xarifa drew her fur cloak closer. Tuppenny warmed his hands
at the fire; “I wish Paddy Pig would come back. Do you think he has
fallen in, like the lambs?” “Not he! he is too much afraid of water.”
Tuppenny still looked across anxiously at the wood; “I did think I
heard a pig squeal, while Habbitrot was telling us that nice tale.
Would anything bite him, in Pringle Wood?” Sandy sat up; “Why did you
not say so before? No, nothing would bite him.” “I should not choose to
spend a night in Pringle Wood myself,” remarked Jenny Ferret. “Why?”
inquired Tuppenny, “why don’t you like Pringle Wood? It was a kind
fairy that helped Bonny Annot in the story. Does she live there yet?”
“Tuppenny,” said Pony William, “do you not remember that I observed
that the tale recounted by Habbitrot had no moral?” “But it was very
pretty,” said Xarifa, who had been to sleep again.
Supper was eaten; Tuppenny and Xarifa were put to bed; Pony Billy lay
down behind the wall; Sandy went to sleep in his straw underneath the
caravan—but neither at supper, at bed-time, nor at breakfast-time was
there any sign of Paddy Pig.
[Illustration]
“It is useless to wait any longer,” said Pony Billy next morning; “the
flood has gone down eight inches; we can cross the ford. If Tuppenny
really heard Paddy Pig squealing in Pringle Wood, we are more likely
to find him on the other side of the stream. It is a mystery how
he got over dry shod; and he hates getting wet,” said Jenny Ferret.
“The wood itself is a mystery,” said Pony Billy, “we had better get
through it by daylight. Xarifa, you know the reputation of Pringle
Wood. Be very careful that Tuppenny does not eat anything in there.”
“Why, Xarifa?” asked Tuppenny. “It is undesirable to taste anything
that grows in the wood.” “Is it fairies?” “Hush,” said Xarifa, “we are
going to cross.” “Swim over with the rope, Sandy, and steady us.” Pony
Billy took the caravan safely through the water, which was up to the
axle trees. Then he unharnessed himself, and came back to fetch the
tilt-cart. As there was no Paddy Pig to drag the cart, it had to be
left behind for the present time, under an eller tree beside the stream
on the outskirts of the wood. Tuppenny and Xarifa and the luggage were
packed into the caravan to ride with Jenny Ferret.
[Illustration: The Fairy Hill of Oaks]
It took them four long hours to go through Pringle Wood. Round and
round and round they went, by narrow mossy tracks; always going
roundabout, always pulling steadily.
And yet the wood was no great size; just a little fairy hill of oaks.
The ground beneath the trees was covered with bluebells—blue as
the sea—blue as a bit of sky come down. So steep downhill were the
mossy banks that Sandy had to put the slipper brake under the wheel
to prevent the caravan from running away on top of Pony Billy, who
was nearly flung upon his nose. Then it was uphill, and Pony Billy
toiled and tugged; foam flecked his bit and shoulders; his brown
leather harness creaked; he was so hot with pulling that he was all in
a lather. And no sooner had he gained the top of a bank than it was
downhill again; just as steep, and the caravan was overrunning him, and
pressing into the breeching straps.
Pony Billy snorted. His hoofs slipped on the moss; and if he left the
track the bluebells were so thick that it was difficult to trample
through them. They passed a bed of white anemone flowers—“Why,
surely,” said Sandy, “we have passed this spot already, twice?”
Pony Billy snorted again, and scrambled forward. A shower of
oak-apples from the trees above pelted about his ears, and rattled on
the roof of the caravan. They hopped on the moss like live things;
they bounced like a shower of pelting hailstones. “Look, Xarifa! what
beauties!” cried Tuppenny, trying to catch them, “red oak-apples in
April; have they been stored all winter in a wood mousey’s cupboard?”
“Throw them away, Tuppenny!” exclaimed Xarifa and Jenny Ferret, “throw
them away over your left shoulder!” More and more oak-apples came
pattering and pelting; Tuppenny played ball with them, catching them
and tossing them back. “This one has been bitten, Xarifa; are they good
to eat?” “What is that I hear?” said Pony Billy, laying his ears back,
“none of you on any account may eat anything that grows in Pringle
Wood.” Instantly another pelting shower of oak-apples came rattling
like a hailstorm about Pony Billy’s mane and back. He broke into a
gallop, trampling through the bluebells; and this time he succeeded in
dragging the caravan clear away out of Pringle Wood.
The sunshiny open meadow was refreshing after the sombre shade of
the trees. Cattle and sheep were feeding peacefully; lambs frisked;
swallows skimmed low over the buttercups that powdered Pony Billy’s
hoofs with dusty gold. He drew the caravan across the cheerful green
grass—he took it through a white gate into a lane, which they followed
down to Codlin Croft Farm.
It was a pleasant sunny spot, where the circus had camped before. “Only
it is rather too near the world of the Big Folk, and their cats and
dogs and hens and cocks—especially cocks,” said Sandy, stiffening his
tail.
“There is no help for it,” said Pony Billy, “we cannot proceed further,
and leave Paddy Pig behind us, lost. Besides I must go back for the
tilt-cart.” Tuppenny twittered dolefully, “You will be lost, too, Mr.
Pony William!” “I shall not,” said Pony Billy, “I am not a pig-headed
fool of a pig!” “Now Xarifa and Tuppenny,” said Sandy, “come along!
I am sorry to say you will have to be shut up all the time while we
stop at Codlin Croft. It will not be safe to let you out, with all
these strange dogs and cats—here they come! Cows, calves, dogs, cats,
poultry—all the farm animals!”
[Illustration]