When the girls went into their room after breakfast to put on their
hats and scrambling shoes, they saw Graeme sitting on the low stone
wall, as usual, smoking his after-breakfast pipe, and they caught a
part of the conversation in progress between him and Johnny Vautrin.
"I see five crows 's mawnin'," they heard in Johnnie's sepulchral
voice.
"Really, now! Catch any?"
"There wuss five crows."
"Ah--five? That's an odd number! And what special ill-luck do you
infer from five crows, Johnnie?"
"Someone's goan to be sick," said Johnnie, with joyous anticipation.
"Dear me! That's what five crows mean, is it?"
"Ouaie!"
"They didn't go into particulars, I suppose,--as to who it is likely
to be, for instance, and the exact nature of the seizure?"
"They flew over to church there and settled in black trees."
"Vicar, maybe, since they went that way."
"Mebbe!"--hopefully.
"Well, well! Perhaps if we gave him a hint he might take some
precautions."
"Couldn' tek nauthen 'd be any use 'gainst crows. Go'zamin, they
knows!"
"You're just a confirmed old croaker, Johnnie."
"A'n't!" said Johnnie.
"Where's our old friend Marielihou?"
"She's a-busy," said Johnnie, wriggling uncomfortably.
"Ah,--killing something, I presume. Is it going to keep fine for the
next three or four weeks?"
"I don' think."
"You don't, you little rascal?"
"You might do your best for us, Johnnie," said Miss Penny, as they
came through the gap in the wall. "And if it keeps fine all the time
I'll give you--let me see, I'll give you a shilling when we go away."
Johnnie's avidious little claw reached out eagerly.
"Godzamin!" said he. "Gimme it now, an' I'll do my best."
"Earn it, my child," said Miss Penny, and they went on up the road,
leaving Johnnie scowling in the hedge.
"Well, where would you like to go to-day?" asked Graeme. "Will you
leave yourselves in my hands again?"
"I'm sure we can't do better," said Miss Penny heartily. "Yesterday
was a day of days. What do you say, Meg?"
"It looks as though we were going to occupy a great deal of Mr.
Graeme's time," said Meg non-committally.
"It could not possibly be better occupied," he said exuberantly.
"And how about your story, Mr. Graeme? Is it at a standstill?" asked
Miss Penny.
"Not at all. It's getting on capitally."
"Why, when do you work at it?"
"Oh,--between times, and when the spirit moves me and I've got
nothing better to do."
"Is that how one writes books?"
"Sometimes. How do you feel about caves?"
"Ripping! If there's one thing we revel in it's caves, principally
because we know nothing about them."
"Then we'll break you in on Grève de la Ville. They're comparatively
easy, and another day we'll do the Boutiques and the Gouliots. Then we
can get a whole day full of caves by going round the island in a
boat--red caves and green caves and black caves and barking-dog
caves--all sorts and conditions of caves--caves studded all round with
anemones, and caves bristling with tiny jewelled sponges. Sark is just
a honeycomb of caves."
"Spiffing!" said Miss Penny. "If Mr. Pixley gets on our track we'll
play hide-and-seek in them with him."
"Then we ought to spend a day on Brecqhou--"
"A day on Brecqhou without a doubt!"
"And if we can get the boat from Guernsey to call for us at the
Eperquerie, and can get a boat there to put us aboard, we might manage
Alderney."
"Sounds a bit if-fy, but tempting thereby. Margaret, my dear, our work
is cut out for us."
"And Mr. Graeme's cut out from him, I'm afraid."
"Oh, not at all, I assure you. It's going ahead like steam," and they
began to descend into Grève de la Ville, the dogs as usual ranging the
cliff-sides after rabbits, disappearing altogether at times and then
flashing suddenly into view half a mile away among the gorse and
bracken.
Sark scrambling requires caution and constant asistance from the
practised to the unpractised hand, and Graeme omitted none of the
necessary precautions. Whereby Margaret's throbbing hand was much in
his,--so, indeed, was Miss Penny's, but that was quite another
matter,--and every convulsive grip of the little hand, though it was
caused by nothing more than the uncertainties of the way, set his
heart dancing and riveted the golden chains still more firmly round
it.
There are difficult bits in those caves in the Grève de la
Ville,--steep ascents, and black drops in sheer faith into unknown
depths, and tight squeezes past sloping shelves which seem on the
point of closing and cracking one like a nut; and when they crawled
out at last into a boulder-strewn plateau, open to the sea on one side
only, they sighed gratefully at the ample height and breadth of
things, and sank down on the shingle to breathe the free air and
sunshine.
He amused them by telling them how, the last time he was there, he
found an elderly gentleman sitting with his head in his hands, on that
exact spot. And how, at sight of the new-comer, he had come running to
him and fallen sobbing on his neck. He had been there for over an
hour seeking the way out, and not being able to find it, had got into
a panic.
"I wonder if you could find the place we came in, now?" said Graeme.
"Scamp, lie down, sir, and don't give me away!"
"Why, certainly, it's just there," said Miss Penny, jumping up
energetically and marching across, while the dogs grinned open-mouthed
at her lack of perception. For it wasn't there at all, and she
searched without avail, and at last sat down again saying, "Well, I
sympathise with your old gentleman, Mr. Graeme. If I was all alone
here, and unable to find that hole, I should go into hysterics, though
it's not a thing I'm given to. I suppose we did get in somehow."
"Obviously! And that's where the advantage of a guide comes in, you
see."
"I, for one, appreciate him highly, I can assure you. Where is that
wretched hole?"
"Here it is, you see. It's a tricky place. I shall never forget the
look of relief on that old fellow's face at sight of me. I believe he
thinks to this day that I saved his life. He stuck to me like a leech
all the way through the further caves and till we got back to the
entrance."
"We're not through them yet then?"
"Through? Bless me no, we're only just starting, but there's no use
hurrying. Tide's right, and we have plenty of time."
"I feel as if I'd been lost and found again," said Miss Penny. "If
Mr. Pixley comes along we'll induce him in here and leave him to find
his way out."
"It would take more than you to get Mr. Pixley in here, Hennie," said
Margaret quietly. "He'd never venture off the roads, even if he risked
his life in reaching Sark. He's much too careful of himself."
"He thinks a good deal more of himself than I do," said Miss Penny.
"With all deference to you, Meg, since he's a relative, I consider him
a jolly old humbug."