by Enid Blyton
Dinah gave a little scream. ‘Don’t say such horrible things! Philip, make that slow-worm go away.’
Instead he slipped it into his pocket. ‘Now don’t worry, Dinah,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to come near me. I don’t expect it will stay with me because it won’t like my pocket – but I’ll just see.’
They set off up the hill once more, Dinah hanging back carefully. Oh dear! Philip would go and spoil the holiday by keeping something horrible again!
4
Up on the mountain-side
Trefor the shepherd had a small cabin-like cottage a good way up the mountain-side. Around him for miles grazed the sheep. Nearer in were that year’s lambs, now grown into sturdy little beasts, their woolly coats showing up against the sheared bodies of the older sheep.
The shepherd was having a simple meal when they got to his hut. He had bread, butter, cream cheese and onions, and beside him a great jug of milk that he had cooled by standing it in the stream that ran down the mountain-side near by.
He nodded his head to the children as they came up. He was a curious-looking old fellow, with longish untidy hair, a straggling beard, and two of the brightest blue eyes the children had ever seen.
He spoke Welsh, which they didn’t understand. ‘Can you speak English?’ asked Jack. ‘We can’t understand what you say.’
Trefor knew a few words of English, which, after much thought and munching of onions, he spoke.
‘Donkeys. Tomorrow.’
He added something the children didn’t understand, and waved his hand down the mountain-side towards the farmhouse.
‘He means the donkeys will arrive tomorrow at the farm,’ said Jack. ‘Good! Perhaps Aunt Allie and Bill will come for a picnic on the donkeys.’
Trefor was very interested in Kiki. He had never in his life seen a parrot. He pointed at Kiki and laughed a hoarse laugh. Kiki at once copied it.
Trefor looked startled. ‘Wipe your feet,’ said Kiki sternly. ‘How many times have I told you to shut the door? Three blind mice!’
Trefor stared at the parrot, amazed. Kiki cackled loudly. ‘Look you, whateffer, look you, whateffer, look…’
The children laughed. Jack tapped Kiki on the beak. ‘Now, now, Kiki – don’t show off
Snowy butted against Philip’s legs. He didn’t like so much attention being given to Kiki. Philip turned, and the little creature leapt straight into his arms. Trefor seemed most amused and sent out a flood of Welsh words that nobody could understand at all. He tapped Philip on the arm, and then pointed to the ground to show the children that he wanted them to sit down.
They sat down, wondering what he wanted. He went a little way down the hillside, making a soft baaing noise. From everywhere around the woolly lambs looked up. They came running to the shepherd, bleating, and even little Snowy left Philip and ran too. The shepherd knelt down and the lambs crowded round him, nuzzling against him. Trefor had had them when they were tiny – he had looked after them, even fed some of them from bottles if their mothers had died – and when they heard his soft call that once they had known so well, they remembered and came to him, their first friend.
A lump came into Lucy-Ann’s throat. There was something very touching in the sight of that solemn, lonely, long-haired old shepherd, calling to his lambs and being answered. Snowy the kid, eager to get close to him, leapt on to the woolly backs of the lambs, and butted his head against him.
‘Look at Snowy! Isn’t he a cheeky rascal of a kid!’ said Dinah. ‘My goodness, you can hardly see Trefor now, he’s so surrounded by lambs!’
Trefor came back, smiling, his eyes very blue in his old brown face. He offered the children some bread and onions, but the onions were big and strong-smelling, and Jack felt certain Mrs Mannering wouldn’t approve if they all came back smelling strongly of Trefor’s onions.
‘No, thank you,’ he said politely. ‘Will you be down to see your brother tomorrow, when he brings the donkeys?’
Trefor seemed to understand this. He nodded. ‘I come. Tomorrow. Donkeys.’
‘Getting quite talkative, isn’t he?’ said Jack to the others. ‘Right, Trefor. See you tomorrow then.’
They set off down the hill again. They stopped once more at the little spring to drink. They sat on the grass, looking at the towering mountains round them.
‘Effans says that all those mountains over there have hardly anyone living on them, because they are difficult to get at,’ said Jack. ‘I bet there are some interesting animals and birds there. Wish we could go and see.’
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t if Bill and Mother would come with us,’ said Philip, trying to stop Snowy from walking on his middle. ‘Stop it, Snowy. Get off my tummy. Your hooves are sharp. It would be fun to go off into the mountains on donkeys and take food with us for a few days.’
‘And have tents, do you mean?’ said Jack. ‘I say – that’s an idea, Philip. We could take our cameras and get some fine pictures. I might see some rare birds.’
‘I bet you would!’ said Philip. ‘Hallo, here comes Sally Slither!’
Out of his pocket glided the slow-worm, and curled itself up in the crook of Philip’s elbow, in the sun. Dinah removed herself to a safe distance at once. Kiki looked down with interest from her perch on Jack’s shoulder.
‘Sally Slither! What a nice name!’ said Lucy-Ann, running her finger down the slow-worm’s silvery back. ‘Look – my finger’s tickling her – she’s going all dithery!’
‘Slithery dithery,’ said Kiki, at once. She had a real talent for putting together words of the same sound. ‘Dithery slithery slithery dithery …’
‘All right, all right,’ said Philip. ‘We don’t want to hear it again, Kiki. You’re a clever old bird, we all know that. Jack, look at this slow-worm. It’s not a scrap frightened now.’
‘I do think you’re mean to keep it,’ began Dinah, from a safe distance. ‘You know how I hate snakes. All right, all right, I know it isn’t a snake – though I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it bit me if I came near it, so there!’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised at anything biting you when you’re so nervous,’ said Philip crossly. ‘I feel like biting you myself. Come here, Dinah. Run your fingers down Sally Slither’s back – look at her sharp little eyes …’
Dinah gave a scream. ‘I couldn’t bear it! No, don’t come near me, Philip. It’s worse than those awful white rats you had a few months ago. But at least they grew up and you let them go!’
‘Sally can go whenever she wants to,’ said Philip. ‘I never keep any pet when it wants to go. Do you want to go, Sally Slither?’
‘Slithery dithery, musty dusty fusty,’ said Kiki, trying to remember the various collections of words she had picked up at one time or another. ‘Huffin and Puffin.’
‘Come on – let’s go,’ said Dinah. ‘Perhaps that horrible thing will go back into your pocket if we go. And I’m getting hungry.’
The slow-worm slid back somewhere in Philip’s clothes. He got up and Snowy bounded round him. ‘Now just see if you can walk without getting your head between my legs all the time,’ said Philip to Snowy. ‘You’ll send me flying in a minute. You’re a bit too friendly at times, Snowy.’
They went back to the farmhouse, enjoying the sunshine and the constant breeze that blew over the mountain-side. By the time they reached the farmhouse they were all terribly hungry, and visions of ham, chicken, salad and raspberries and cream kept coming into their minds.
Bill and Mrs Mannering had been for a walk too, but down the mountain, not up. They had been back for a little while, and were just beginning to wonder where the children were. Snowy went bounding up to them.
‘He’s a pet!’ said Mrs Mannering. ‘I suppose we shall have him at our heels the whole of this holiday now. It’s a pity kids have to grow up into goats. Don’t think you’re going to take Snowy back home with you, Philip. I’m not going to have a goat in the garden, whilst you’re at school, eating the vegetables out of the beds, and
the clothes off the line!’
‘Mother, Trefor says his brother will arrive at the farmhouse tomorrow with the donkeys,’ said Philip. ‘Can we each choose our own? How many will there be?’
‘Yes, you can choose your own if you want to,’ said Mrs Mannering. ‘I don’t know how many there will be – six, I suppose. I only hope I choose a sure-footed one!’
‘They’ll all be sure-footed,’ said Jack. ‘As sure-footed as goats. But not so leapy I shouldn’t care to ride one of these mountain goats, and find myself leaping about from rock to rock.’
‘Good gracious, what a horrible thought!’ said Mrs Mannering. ‘I shall choose the quietest, staidest, placidest, best-tempered donkey of the lot – one without a single bound or leap in him.’
Everyone laughed. Effans came over to them, beaming to see them happy. ‘It iss dinner-time,’ he said. ‘Mrs Effans has it ready.’
‘I shall soon begin to talk in a sing-song voice myself,’ said Lucy-Ann, getting up from the stone wall. ‘Indeed to gootness I shall!’
They all laughed at the lilting way she spoke. Snowy galloped ahead into the kitchen. Mrs Evans didn’t seem to mind at all, but she shooed him down when he leapt into a chair. A hen scuttled out from under the table. Kiki went up to a rafter, sat on a ham wrapped up in a cloth, and cocked her eye down to the table to see what fruit there was.
‘Pop goes the weasel,’ she announced, and made a popping noise like a cork coming out of a bottle. Effans looked up in admiration.
‘Such a bird!’ he said. ‘Never have I seen such a bird, look you!’
Kiki began hiccuping, and Effans went off into a roar of laughter. Mrs Mannering frowned.
‘Kiki! Stop that! How many times am I to tell you I don’t like that noise?’
‘How many times have I told you to wipe your feet?’ retorted Kiki, and screeched. Effans almost died of laughter. Kiki began to show off, snapping her beak open and shut, putting her crest up and down and making peculiar noises.
‘Kiki! Come here!’ said Jack sternly, and Kiki flew down to his shoulder. Jack tapped her smartly on her beak. ‘Any more nonsense from you and I’ll shut you in the bedroom upstairs. Bad bird! Silly bird!’
‘Poor Polly! Bad Polly!’ said Kiki, and nipped Jack’s ear. He smacked her on the beak again.
‘Be quiet! Not another word!’ he ordered. Kiki put her head under her wing in disgrace, and various whispering sounds came to everyone’s ears. But nobody could hear what she said, though Effans strained his ears hopefully. What a bird! He wished he could have one like it.
The dinner was as good as the high tea and breakfast had been. The children set to work and Mrs Evans felt very pleased to see how much her good food was appreciated. She kept pressing second and third helpings on everyone, but soon even the boys could eat no more.
‘There iss no four o’clock tea,’ she kept saying. ‘Nothing till six o’clock. So eat, look you, eat!’
‘Dithery slithery,’ announced Kiki suddenly, and Dinah gave a scream. The slow-worm was gliding out of Philip’s sleeve! He pushed it back hurriedly, hoping that no one had seen it. Bill had. His sharp eyes had caught sight of it at once. He grinned.
‘Another member added to the family?’ he said. ‘Very nice too! What with Snowy and Kiki and – er – Slithery, we look all set for a most interesting holiday.’
5
Arrival of the donkeys
The next excitement, of course, was the arrival of the donkeys. The children had waited expectantly for them all the following morning, not liking to go for a walk in case they missed the donkeys’ arrival. Lucy-Ann saw them first.
She gave a yell that sent the slow-worm back into Philip’s pocket, and startled Snowy so much that he leapt four feet in the air. Even Kiki jumped.
‘The donkeys!’ cried Lucy-Ann. ‘There they come, look, up the mountain path.’
Soon all four children were tearing down the path to the donkeys. There were eight of them, strong, sturdy little creatures, with big bright eyes, and long tails that whisked the flies away. They were all grey, and their long ears twitched to and fro as they came steadily up the steep path.
Trefor’s brother David was with them, an elderly man rather like Trefor but with tidier hair and beard. He had the same bright blue eyes, but he looked timid and shy, as if the world had not been kind to him.
He smiled faintly at the lively children. ‘Can we ride four of the donkeys now?’ asked Philip. ‘We know how to ride. Come on, Lucy-Ann, up with you!’
He gave Lucy-Ann a shove and she was up on a donkey’s back. Dinah needed no help. With a leap like Snowy’s she was up at once.
The donkeys ambled up the steep path with the children, refusing to trot now that they had heavy weights on their backs. Snowy galloped beside Philip’s donkey, half jealous of it, butting it in the legs.
‘Hallo! Here we are!’ cried Jack, ambling up to Mrs Mannering and Bill. ‘Eight donkeys to choose from! Which are you going to have, Aunt Allie?’
David stood by smiling whilst his donkeys were examined and tried. Trefor the shepherd arrived, and the two old brothers chatted together in Welsh. Effans and his wife came along, and soon there was quite a company in the farmyard, discussing the donkeys.
‘We badly want to go off on the donkeys into the mountains, Mother,’ said Philip coaxingly ‘Can we? With you and Bill, of course. To stay a few nights, I mean. Jack and I think there should be a fine lot of rare birds over there in those lonely mountains – and there will be lots of animals too.’
‘It would be rather fun,’ said his mother. ‘I haven’t camped out for ages, and in this weather it would be lovely. What do you say Bill?’
‘I say yes!’ said Bill, who loved outdoor life and was an old hand at camping. ‘Do you good, Allie. We could take a couple of extra donkeys to carry the things we want.’
‘Oh, Bill! Can we really go?’ said Lucy-Ann, overjoyed, and Dinah danced round him too. To go off on donkeys into the mountains, and take tents and food – what could be more fun?
‘It will be an adventure!’ said Dinah. ‘Not one of our usual ones, of course, but a really nice one. You’ll like that, Lucy-Ann, won’t you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Lucy-Ann, who never really enjoyed a proper adventure whilst it was happening. ‘I’d like that kind of adventure. When can we go?’
‘Well, we’d better get used to our donkeys before we think of going,’ said Bill. ‘I’m not used to donkey-riding, nor is Aunt Allie. We shall be stiff at first, so we’d better get over that stage before we go. Say next week?’
‘Oh – I can’t wait that long!’ said Dinah, and the others laughed at her long face.
‘Effans, where is a nice place to go?’ asked Jack, turning to him. Effans considered. He spoke to Trefor in Welsh and the old shepherd answered him.
‘He says the Vale of Butterflies in a good place,’ said Effans. ‘It is full of birds as well as butterflies.’
‘The Vale of Butterflies – that sounds gorgeous,’ said Jack, pleased.
‘Super!’ said Philip. ‘Absolutely wizard! We’ll go there. Is it far?’
‘Two days on donkeys,’ said Effans.
Bill calculated. ‘We shall want a guide – either Trefor, Effans or Trefor’s brother – and two donkeys at least to carry our tents and food – and six donkeys for ourselves. That’s nine. We’ve only got eight here. Effans, ask this fellow if he’s got another donkey.’
It turned out that Trefor’s brother had meant to ride home on a donkey himself, and take another donkey back with farm produce to sell, leaving only six. Effans bargained with him to come back the next week, complete with three donkeys to add to the six left behind.
‘Then you can act as guide to these people, look you,’ he said. ‘That will be money. You will have one donkey, they will have six, and there will be two for loads. That is much money for you, David, indeed to gootness!’
David agreed. He would come on the Wednesday of next week, bringing thr
ee donkeys to add to the six he would leave behind. Two to carry loads, one for himself, and six for the children, Mrs Mannering and Bill.
The children were very excited. They ran round the donkeys, patted them, rubbed their long noses and sat on their broad backs. The donkeys seemed to like all the fuss. They stood stolidly there, their tails whisking, following the children with their eyes. Snowy darted about, running under first one donkey and then another, acting like a mad thing.
Trefor helped his brother to load up a donkey with packages of all kinds. Heavier and heavier grew the load, but the donkey stood patiently, seeming not to mind at all. Then, eager to be gone, it suddenly brayed.
Kiki had never heard a donkey bray before and she sailed straight up into the air with fright.
‘Ee-ore, ee-ore!’ brayed the donkey, and stamped his foot.
‘Gracious! Now I suppose Kiki will practise braying too,’ said Jack. ‘We shall have to stop her firmly if she does. It’s bad enough from a donkey – but brays from Kiki would be frightful.’
The donkey was loaded at last. David mounted his sturdy little beast, said a polite goodbye to everyone and rode off down the path, the loaded donkey being led after him by a rope he held in his hand.
‘Now we can choose our own donkeys!’ said Lucy-Ann in delight. ‘Aunt Allie – you choose first.’
‘Well, they all look exactly alike to me!’ said Mrs Mannering. Bill spoke to Effans, asking him if he knew which donkey was the quietest. Effans turned to Trefor.
Trefor knew. He pointed out a little creature with a patient expression in its eyes, and said a few words in Welsh.
‘He says that is the one for you,’ said Effans. ‘It is quiet and good. Its name is Patience.’
‘Oh, good – I’ll choose her then,’ said Mrs Mannering. ‘This is mine, children – the one with the black mark on her forehead.’