THE EAGLE'S NEST.
A good name is half the battle. That the Eagle's Nest was going to be
a magnificent success all the children felt at once. Fortunately it
was Saturday, and there were no lessons to be done after dinner, so
they had a whole long afternoon in which to lay the foundations of
their new house.
When Captain West married and left the navy, many years before our
story begins, he had bought Beechgrove and the little farm attached to
the house. So his children had no lack of fields and outhouses in
which to play, directly they were old enough for Nurse to trust them
out of her sight. The only rule that they were bound to observe was:
Never to go off their father's property. This was not often felt to be
an oppressive regulation, for the dozen fields of which the farm
consisted contained untold treasures, in the way of hedges rich in
birds' nests, and green slimy ponds alive with newts and tadpoles. The
fact was, that the children had never yet found any day long enough to
explore the fields to their entire satisfaction.
But there was one corner of the Beechgrove farm which seemed more
mysteriously interesting than all the rest. In the first place, it was
at an immense distance from the house; a grown-up person on a hot day
would very likely have taken nearly a quarter of an hour to walk there.
The children, of course, took much longer; they never went straight
anywhere, and even if they started to run they forgot half-way where
they were going, and wandered off in several directions, after passing
objects of interest, before they remembered. So, excepting on long
summer afternoons, they very seldom got as far as this particular
corner, where the beech-trees grew in such abundance as to give their
name to the whole place.
There was another reason as well as its remoteness from civilization
which made the children regard this corner with a peculiarly awe-struck
interest. On the other side of the high wall which bounded the farm at
this end lived an old lady, about whom most extraordinary stories were
told. She was undoubtedly eccentric and fond of seclusion, as she had
spent a large sum of money on fencing her little property entirely
round with a stone wall about ten feet high. Also, she never went for
walks; and it was said that tradesmen's carts were not admitted into
the garden, but had to wait outside on the road while the old
housekeeper carried all they brought through a door in the wall, which
she carefully closed behind her. Nobody but the clergyman and the
doctor had been admitted to see Mrs. Howard for years; and they were
neither of them gossips, so the neighbourhood did not learn much after
their visits. Some people said that the old lady was mad; others that
she had committed some terrible crime for which she had been sentenced
to imprisonment for life, but that being very rich, she had been
allowed to escape this disgrace on condition of paying a huge fine and
promising never to go outside those gloomy high walls.
The children firmly believed all the different stories they had been
told by successive nursery-maids, and even a legend started by the old
weeding-woman, to the effect that Mrs. Howard belonged to a very high
family living in London, and that having gone mad she took advantage of
her position to shoot at the Queen as she was driving through Hyde
Park. The story broke off at this point, which was so unsatisfactory
that the children teased Mrs. Bunn to try and remember more, until,
being in a hurry to get on with her weeding, she hazarded a suggestion
that perhaps the poor lady was so mad that she forgot to load the
pistol. As the Queen continued to live and reign, this really seemed
very probable.
Of course the little Wests could have asked their parents about Mrs.
Howard, and found out from them something more nearly approaching the
truth. But on the whole they very much preferred being at liberty to
believe all sorts of wonderful and terrible reports. It is such hard
work to satisfy one's natural craving for romantic adventure when one
is carefully brought up in a well-guarded nursery and schoolroom, that
it would be mere stupid ingratitude not to get all the excitement one
could out of a mysterious neighbour.
After this explanation, it can be better understood how very bold and
thrilling a proposal Madge made when she suggested that the Eagle's
Nest should be built in a beech-tree that actually overhung the
boundary wall.
"How are we to begin? What shall we do first?" inquired the twins, as
with business-like rapidity the three children started off across the
fields immediately after their dinner. For once none of them lingered
to pick buttercups, or even hunt the pigs.
"First we make the floor," said Madge, who was in a very good humour at
being so undoubtedly leader of the expedition. "Until that is made we
have nothing to stand on while we are putting up the roof."
This was unquestionably true; besides, everybody felt that though a
very fairly satisfactory nest could be imagined open to the sky, some
sort of floor was an absolute necessity in a tree-house.
"But where shall we get the boards and nails from?" asked John,
thinking of the neat planks he had so often counted in the nursery.
"Boards and nails!" laughed Madge. "Do you think it's going to be
exactly like the stupid sort of houses we are used to? Perhaps you
expect to see a brown carpet with red spots, like the one in the
schoolroom?"
"Of course not! Don't be so silly!" cried John angrily. But all the
same, it must be confessed he could not imagine a house very unlike
Beechgrove.
"You see, this will be more of a nest," interposed Betty; "so it ought
to be made of sticks."
"That's it! Follow me and I will show you where to get some." And
Madge set off running across the field, closely pursued by the two
others.
It was not very difficult to guess where the sticks were to be found.
Every winter the wind had a delightful way of blowing down some large
boughs on the farm, and these used to be cut up and stacked together
until wanted for various purposes. The children regarded these
windfalls as expressly designed for their convenience and amusement.
They climbed on the heavier logs, which were piled into temptingly
irregular mountains several feet high; and of the smaller sticks they
made every kind of defensive weapon.
Madge led the way straight to one of these wood-piles. After much
study she chose several small branches, and all three children,
producing knives out of their pockets, set to work hacking off
unnecessary twigs. The twigs being extremely tough and the knives not
at all sharp, this process took a long time, and the afternoon seemed
to be going by without their even coming in sight of Eagle's Nest.
"It's really no good trying to tidy up these sticks here!" Madge cried
at last in despair. "Let us each carry as many branches as we can to
the Eagle's Nest, and we can trim them into shape there when we see
exactly what we want."
This seemed a particularly good idea, as all their hands were aching
after sawing away for so long with their blunt knives at the hard wood.
So a procession set out, each child dragging a branch along the ground.
By doing it that way they could move good-sized branches which would
afterwards cut up into several sticks.
"Oh, Madge, it's perfect! It's quite perfect!" cried the twins some
time later, when, hot and panting, they at last dropped their burdens
beneath the great beech-tree by the wall.
"I really think it's pretty good," replied Madge modestly. She felt
that as she had invented this plan herself it would not be good manners
for her to admire it too freely. "You see those two boughs poking out
like great arms over the field? The sticks must be long enough to
stretch from one to the other, and the Eagle's Nest when it is built
will be between them."
"Oh, why did we never think of it before!" exclaimed Betty, rolling on
the ground in an ecstasy of admiration.
"Well, you know we don't often come into this corner of the field to
look about," Madge reminded her; "it's so far from the house. And
besides," she added frankly, "I used to be rather afraid of coming here
without Nurse when I was smaller, because of Mrs. Howard."
A shade of anxiety passed over the younger children's faces. They had
forgotten all about that mysterious old lady behind the wall, with her
terrible character for madness and crime. Yet she was possibly lurking
within a few yards of them, even listening to what they were saying.
"Do you think," began John seriously, "are you sure, that it's quite
safe here?"
"Quite safe," asserted Madge decidedly. "If Mrs. Howard tried to come
an inch this side of the wall she would be a trespasser, and we could
send a policeman after her."
An elder sister who has mastered the law of trespass to this extent is
really an invaluable possession. John's mind was quite set at rest,
and with a sigh of relief he again pulled out his knife and began
hacking away at a branch.
"I dare say you are both wondering how we are going to get up to the
Eagle's Nest," said Madge. "Now I will show you."
She went to the wall against which the beech-tree was growing, and
deliberately put her toe into a deep crack between the stones where the
mortar had fallen out. The others watched with the greatest
excitement, while, partly supported by inequalities on the trunk of the
tree, and partly taking advantage of projecting stones in the wall, she
slowly climbed up until she was on a level with the destined
foundations of the Eagle's Nest.
"Now hand me up a branch," she cried, "and I will lay the first stone
of our house!"
"But I thought you said it was to be all sticks?" objected John.
"Do try and not be stupid!" exclaimed Betty rather sharply, as she
wrestled with a branch far beyond her strength to lift single-handed.
"One always talks of laying the first stone, you know, whatever the
place is built of. At least I never heard of laying the first brick!
And please help me to lift up the end of this branch, I can't push it
high enough, and it will get entangled in my hair and knock off my hat."
The twins struggled unsuccessfully to lift the heavy branch high enough
for Madge to reach. She stooped forward as far as she dared, almost
losing her balance indeed, in her effort to get hold of this refractory
foundation-stone. "If you two were only a little taller!" she
exclaimed reproachfully.
Betty looked down abashed. She was short for her age, and knew it.
Quite an inch more in the wrong than John. But she had ideas.
"If we knotted all our handkerchiefs together and tied them to one end
of the branch, you could pull it up easily," she suggested.
In ten minutes more the first stick, or stone, of the Eagle's Nest was
laid amidst shouts of congratulation and rejoicing.