“Oh, you couldn’t, don’t be foul,” protested Noel.
Henry grinned. “I really came across to offer you a lift down to the stables,” he said, “but you must hurry or you won’t have any time to ride.”
“Thanks awfully; I was just beginning to think that I would have no time and no energy either by the time I had walked there.”
“Yesterday, or was it the day before? You told me that you enjoyed walking.”
“Well, I do, but there are limits to my energy.”
“Just as well, or you would insist on walking down at the double and I should be denied the pleasure—brief, but unalloyed—of driving you.”
“That, I suppose,” said Noel, as she climbed into the Land Rover, “is the sort of remark you make to rich debs at smart London parties.”
“On the contrary,” Henry answered as he drove off, “the richer they are, the ruder they like you. Compliments are notoriously out of fashion. But, you may recollect that last summer you told me off for bullying you or intimidating you or something; so I’ve been taking lessons in old world courtesy, especially for camp.”
“That’s jolly decent of you,” said Noel absentmindedly.
“This Scavenge Hunt,” said Major Holbrooke at lunch. “I propose to pair the members up; give them a few words of warning about crops and gates and then turn them loose for forty-five minutes to find what they can. You three,” he went on, looking from Merry to Noel and Henry, “had better ride around seeing that they don’t get up to mischief, shutting any gates that do get left open and catching the loose ponies—there’s bound to be a few.”
“O.K.,” said Henry.
“Thank goodness I gave Truant some exercise this morning,” said Noel. “I must have got the worst of the bucks over.”
“Oh, God, how grim,” grumbled Merry HemlockJones. “I’ve just taken all Quaver’s bandages and boots off; it’ll take me the best part of an hour to get them on again. Look, Major Holbrooke, you don’t expect us to go galloping round after them, do you? I know the pace these little horrors of yours ride at and I value my horse’s legs.”
“You can walk round on your own legs, if you like,” answered the major. “All I want you to do is to keep them off the standing crops and stop them if you see any tendency to run the cattle, gallop on the stony lanes, abandon their partners or make a nuisance of themselves to local people. Send for the ambulance and Dr. Radcliffe if you find any broken bones and catch the loose horses.”
“Uncle George, you become more and more delightfully optimistic in your old age,” observed Henry sarcastically, “I believe you’re doing what they call ‘growing old gracefully’. To avert these fatal accidents, may we arrange the pairs?”
“Yes, they’ll make a frightful fuss; we’re sure to pair up enemies, one always does, but we must give the incompetent sensible partners. Who’s safe in your ride, Noel?”
“No one, except Jean, and perhaps Lynne.”
“Guy’s my only perilous one,” said Henry, “but Carola and Nicholas don’t know the country.”
“Which is your worst, Noel?” asked the major.
“Sally Barkham.”
“Well, we’ll pair her with Susan.”
Christopher hadn’t enjoyed the morning. “It’s all very well for you two,” he told Judith and Marion, between whom he was sitting at lunch, “you haven’t gone through it all umpteen times before. I want to get on and here we are jumping lower than we were last summer. It’s enough to make anyone fed up. Next year I shall come on the staff or not at all. I shall be seventeen and a half by then and with any luck I shall have passed ‘A’.”
“You do make me feel awful; I’m sixteen too and I’ve only just passed ‘C’,” said Judith.
“I haven’t taken ‘B’,” Marion told them. “I think we ought to do tests while we’re in camp. I feel in the right mood, really horsy, now that there aren’t too many distractions. Let’s ask Henry to ask the major.”
“I’ll ask the major if you like,” offered Christopher. “He and I are good friends.”
Susan was sitting between Donald and Poppy and she was trying to console Donald who was cast into what she suspected was the silence of despair. “Really, Donald, we’ve all been through it,” she said. “He’s half-murdered all of us in turn. You needn’t think that it’s just you in particular. After a bit you begin to ride the major’s way and then, though he tells you off, it’s nothing like so bad. Last summer it was Marion who was always in hot water. She couldn’t get Crusoe to jump a thing and the worst of it was that the person who’d had him before had won masses with him, but now look at her, she’s getting on marvellously with him; I wouldn’t be surprised if she was chosen for the Inter-Branch team. You’ll be just the same, you’ll see.”
“Perhaps we will and perhaps we won’t,” said Donald heavily. “Anyway, I can only die once. Send me a wreath, Susan,” he added, as he got up and collected his neighbours’ plates, “and have my ashes scattered over the camp.”
“Donald, you’re not a Blue,” shrieked Jean.
“Donald, you fathead, it’s your turn tomorrow,” said Christopher, “so don’t try and pinch our marks.”
“Can’t one move without you translating it into marks?” asked Donald. “You’ve got them on the brain.”
“Hear, hear,” shrieked Margaret Radcliffe.
“You shut up, when we want your opinion we’ll ask for it,” said Christopher turning on her furiously.
“You don’t wait for anyone to ask for yours,” retorted Margaret.
“Now, children,” began Nicholas Lucien. “It’s all right,” he told Margaret, “we’ll protect you. Jonathan and I always protect ladies, don’t we, Jonathan?”
“Yes, but I don’t know that she counts as one,” answered Jonathan. “She threw a tack sponge at me last night. Hey, James, is your sister a lady?”
“Well, sort of, I suppose,” said James doubtfully; he was handing round plates of pudding.
“I don’t know what Donald’s going on about,” Poppy Newland told Susan, “he doesn’t have a worse time than I do. The major hardly gave me a minute’s peace all the morning. It was ‘use your legs’ and ‘drive’ and ‘ride that horse, girl.’ I don’t know what he thinks I’m doing. Really, it’s shocking.”
David Minton was sitting next to Gay Millwood. He had had a successful morning and he was feeling unusually pleased with himself. “Henry’s a first-class instructor,” he told her, “I don’t care what Christopher says. He’s got a knack of imparting his knowledge. It isn’t enough to know your subject; you’ve got to have the knack of imparting it too—at least that’s what my science master says. Henry says he’s never seen Fireworks going better than he is at the moment and he thinks by the end of the week he’ll be a reformed character.”
“I wouldn’t mind being in the Lancers,” said Gay with a giggle. “I should think it’s less deadly serious than the Dragoons. Actually, I don’t know what I’m doing in the major’s lot; I’m not half good enough—you’d better change places with me.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to be in the same ride as Christopher and I’m learning plenty. Besides, I should think that Henry was one of the best instructors.”
“Oh,” said Lynne from the other side of the table, “Noel’s a super instructor…”
The letter chosen for the Scavenge Hunt was “F” and, as soon as it was announced the members poured out of camp in their pairs and disappeared in different directions.
“We can get to our house and back if we hurry,” Margaret told Nicholas.
“No galloping,” he reminded her.
“All right. I know a short cut. We must think what we want before we get there. Can you think of anything beginning with F?”
“Only fleas and French books,” answered Nicholas.
“Ferns,” said James Radcliffe stopping outside Little Heath Copse. “Do you think bracken’ll do? Fir tree, fir cone and fountain pen. Hold Rocket, please, Carola, w
hile I go in.”
“Flint,” said Carola, “and fish.”
“Fag,” said James, “I’ll pinch one of Christopher’s when we get back to camp. Flannels, oh bother, why did I only bring corduroys?”
“Feather,” said Carola, as James rejoined her, thrusting leaves and the flint into his pockets. “Amber’s got a white fleck and we’ve got faces. This is much more fun than schooling, I must say.”
David said, “Let’s make a beeline for the barn, Guy. I’m no botanist so it’s no use tearing round the farm. I’ve thought of flex, fuse and filament. How are you getting on?”
“Frying pan, food and fizzy lemonade,” replied Guy, “but how on earth are we going to carry it all about with us?”
Susan and Sally set off for Basset Towers, which was even nearer the camp than the Priory. “I’m hopeless at this sort of thing,” said Susan, “I’ve no brains; can you think of anything beginning with F, Sally?”
“Only flowers.”
“Goodness, I hadn’t even thought of that. And then there’s fruit and feet.”
Christopher began by concentrating on horsy things. He collected a piece of hay as fodder and, having told Joy to remember fetlock, flank, forearm, forehead and foot and fullered shoe, he led the way to the Folly Court stables where he persuaded the major’s stud groom to lend him a fillet string, the major’s hunting flask and some oats to count as feed. Then he visited the Holbrooke hen run for a feather and their orchard for fruit. Joy followed him round, occasionally galloped past him and kept up a continuous stream of questions, which Christopher ignored or answered with a furious monosyllable.
When he had run out of ideas he turned on her, “Why don’t you think of something?” he demanded. “Instead of just following me round with your mouth open?”
“I have,” answered Joy. “Fish and frog.”
“If you think I’m going to muck about in ponds you’re mistaken,” said Christopher, “Come on, we’re going back to camp.”
Donald and Jean, Gay and Jonathan were going round in a giggling four. They had persuaded the major to produce florins, Mrs. Quayle to give them flour, cornflakes and matches to strike for flames. Donald had pinched the Flit spray from the barn, but Jonathan had a camera with a film in it. Gay had thought of filth, which they had all gathered with delight. Jean had suggested face flannels. Lumps of wood were doing double duty as fence and firewood and then they left the camp for Little Heath in search of fungi and foxgloves.
Poppy and Martin quarrelled. Poppy couldn’t think of anything for which to search and Martin couldn’t persuade Mousie to go where he wanted. Before the forty-five minutes were up, they returned to camp with cross expressions and only ten objects beginning with F.
Judith and Lynne didn’t bother to search very hard. They rode about enjoying the sunshine and they collected fire-weed and furze, French beans, begged from a cottage garden, foxgloves, fir, fir cone; fluff from a thistle, fleece from one of Colonel Manners’ sheep, ferns, an elderly looking stone as a fossil and finally a flint.
Marion and Penelope had ridden only a short way. But they had thought of seven points of the horse, as well as the fly link on Pickles’ curbchain and the saddle flaps, and three points of the human which were not owned by the horse. From Marion’s tent they had collected a Foxhunter scarf, a cake of French Fern soap and what Marion said was a fashionable pullover; from Penelope’s a fox’s mask tiepin and a faded pullover. Marion made a fan out of a sheet of writing paper and then they went in pursuit of flint and feather, fruit and flower and a fragrant flower as well.
Major Holbrooke, Mrs. Quayle and Miss Sinclair began by checking Poppy’s and Martin’s efforts, then Susan and Sally arrived and caused a sensation with a gold fish in a jam jar. They were followed by Judith and Lynne who had added Frolic as well as various objects from their tent to their collection. Marion and Penelope also arrived in an orderly fashion and found that they were leading with a score of twenty-four, but the other pairs refused to stop searching. They thought of more and more things to find and rushed from tent to tent until the major blew his whistle and said that anyone who did not present themselves for checking forthwith would be disqualified.
A giggling horde at once bore down upon him and Donald was carrying a form from the barn over his shoulder, Gay was armed with a pitchfork. “Filth,” shrieked Jean delving in her pocket, “Face flannel, fly, dead, it’s a bluebottle really, fungi…”
“Flames,” yelled Jonathan striking matches all round Miss Sinclair, “and fire.”
“Fool,” said Gay pointing at Jonathan. “Honestly, Miss Sinclair, you’ve got to admit it.”
“Fevered brow, Jean’s,” Donald told the major. “Honestly, it is, sir, you feel it.”
“No, thank you,” said the major dryly, “not after all the filth and fungi it’s been in contact with.”
“Well, fat then,” said Donald, “on me. You’ve got to allow that one. The form counts as furniture too and here’s a flag and a flagpole and a flashy tie and a footnote and a female and a funny bone and some food, Jean, where’s the next bucketful and have you remembered the points of the horse?”
Mrs. Quayle had checked Carola’s and James’s hoard and started on Christopher and Joy before Miss Sinclair and the major were half-way through their pairs.
Christopher gave the points of the horse in a low voice because he suspected that some of the others might have forgotten them, but actually there had been a good deal of co-operation among the other pairs and points of the horse had been bandied about as well as try-ons like fourteen and fifteen which the checkers allowed if it was your actual age and foes and friends which they didn’t. Guy and David had to wait so long that their collection was laid out in orderly rows by the time the checkers advanced on it and as the major said, when he saw the electrical department, it was doubtful if the lights in the barn would ever work again as the fuse box had been robbed as well as a light dismantled. In the food department they had lemonade which was fluid as well as fizzy, fruit drops and fruit gums as well as an apple. They had a fountain pen, a French dictionary and a tin dish which they said was a flying saucer. They had pinched the first aid equipment as well as the frying pan and something Guy insisted was a fish kettle. They had a flashlight, a camera with a film and a light filter, which they brandished about as they declared that it was focused. They had fly eggs as well as flies, a foxy tie and a fawn pullover. They had a farthing, fourpence, fivepence and five shillings as well as a florin. They had all the usual sticks and stones and leaves as well as the points of the horse and the human. They had Fireworks as well as David’s fourteen years. Then they produced some try-ons like filthy tack and a film of dirt on themselves. Guy said he had fleas and then he arranged his hair over his face and announced that he had a fringe.
The major added up and said that they led with forty-seven and that Jean and Donald were next with forty-three.
Miss Sinclair pointed out, “We’re one pair short, Major Holbrooke. We sent out ten pairs and we’ve only checked in nine.”
“Oh, it’s Margaret and Nicholas,” said Susan. “I expect they went to the Priory.”
“Trust her to be late; are you going to disqualify them?” Christopher asked the major.
“We’ll give them five minutes’ grace,” said Major Holbrooke, sitting down on the grass. “The rest of you put your ponies away in the lines. It seems that we are also minus all the junior members of the staff,” the major added as he gazed around the camp. “Dear me, I do hope there hasn’t been an accident,” fussed Miss Sinclair, “It’s so easily and so quickly done and the lanes are so exceptionally stony this year.”
“What am I thinking of?” asked Mrs. Quayle in tones of horror. “I ought to be getting tea.”
“I’m not very optimistic about boiling the kettle myself,” said Major Holbrooke. “David,” he shouted, “as soon as you’ve tied that pony up go and restore the electric current in the barn, please. Mrs. Quayle wants to make tea.”
“O.K.,” said David, “has anyone got a screwdriver? I took the light to bits with a sixpence, but a screwdriver would make me a bit quicker.”
“The tool kits are all in the Land Rover,” said the major and at that moment it appeared bringing Noel, Merry and Henry across the fields.
“Dreadfully sorry to desert you, Uncle George,” said Henry, “to leave you at the mercy of the rabble, but we thought we’d get rid of our gees and then Merry made us wait while she gave hers a shampoo and set.”
“Oh Henry, you liar, you utter liar,” replied Merry with furious grimaces, “I was hardly a minute, and you and Noel didn’t do a thing to your wretched horses.”
“It is our intention to neglect them this week. We can spit and polish them up after camp so long as they’re fed and watered and mucked out.”
“We’ve lost a pair,” the major told them, “Margaret and Nicholas. Did you see anything of them?”
“Lord, no. Oh, curse it, I thought that they were all home,” said Henry guiltily. “Look, Noel, will you organise the watering and haying up? I’ll take the Land Rover and have a look for them.”
Henry had not gone very far when he met Margaret and Nicholas coming up across the fields from the Hogshill road.
“Where on earth have you been?” he asked. “We thought some ill had befallen you. Everything was set for a first-class panic.”
“Well, I did fall off,” said Nicholas with pride. “Look at my shirt, tell-tale signs of green. Margaret’s short cut was very adventurous; we got mixed up with a bull and we had to jump a simply huge stile to escape from a furious farmer who said we were trespassing.”
“That wasn’t a farmer, that was only old Colonel Manners; he’s always grumpy,” said Margaret.
“But that wasn’t where I fell off,” Nicholas told Henry. “Oh, no, I stayed on over the huge stile; but Wonder and I parted company on the way home, we jumped nine hedges—I think she’s rather tired.”
Pony Club Camp (Noel and Henry Book 5) Page 6