by Enid Blyton
Snowy ran to them, and behaved like a spoilt child, letting the donkeys fuss him and stare at him. Dapple put down his big head to the little kid, and nuzzled him in the neck. When Snowy ran to the next donkey Dapple followed him.
‘Dapple wants to be friends with Snowy,’ said Dinah, unpacking the lunch parcel from one of the enormous panniers. ‘Here, Lucy-Ann – take this tin and fill it with water from the stream. It must be absolutely pure, I should think. We can put some of this lemonade essence with it. I’m so dreadfully thirsty!’
David was drinking at the stream, so the children felt that it must be all right. It gurgled along, fresh and clear, running through the pebbles and down the hillside at top speed. Lucy-Ann went to fill the tin.
There was a lovely lunch. The children had to call David to share it because he suddenly seemed shy. He came and sat down a little way away from them.
‘No, David. Come here with us,’ called Jack, patting the ground. ‘We want to learn Welsh! Come and talk to us!’
But the old Welshman was very shy, and it was as much as the children could do to persuade him to eat his share of the lunch. It was such a good lunch too!
There were five different kinds of sandwiches, fresh lettuce wrapped in a damp cloth, hard-boiled eggs to nibble, and great slices of jam tart. Washed down with cold lemonade it was the finest lunch anyone could wish.
‘Nobody in the whole world, not even the very richest king, can possibly have a nicer lunch than this,’ said Lucy-Ann, munching a chicken sandwich.
‘Or a nicer place to eat it in,’ said Philip, waving his sandwich at the magnificent view before them. ‘Look at that! No king could have a better view from his palace than that! Valleys and mountains, and yet more mountains, and then the clear blue sky! Marvellous!’
They all gazed at the unbelievable view that lay in front of them. A rustle of paper made them look round.
‘Snowy! You greedy little kid! Look here, he’s eaten the rest of the chicken sandwiches!’ cried Jack indignantly, forgetting all about the lovely view. ‘Philip, smack him. We can’t let him do that or our food won’t last out. He can jolly well eat the grass.’
Philip gave Snowy a smart tap on the nose. The kid retreated in a huff, taking with him a mouthful of sandwich papers, which he proceeded to eat with apparent enjoyment. But soon he was back with Philip, pressing against him affectionately, anxious to be back in his good books. Dapple the donkey moved over to Philip too, to be near the kid. He lay down beside him, and Philip at once leaned back against him.
‘Thanks, old man! Very nice! Just what I wanted!’ said Philip, and everyone laughed as he settled himself against the donkey’s side.
‘Have another sandwich, David?’ asked Lucy-Ann, holding out a packet to him. David had not eaten nearly as much as they had, either through shyness or because he hadn’t such an enormous appetite. He shook his head.
‘Let’s have a bit of rest now,’ said Philip sleepily. ‘There’s no hurry. We can take all the time we like to get anywhere.’
Jack began to ask David the names of things in Welsh. It was silly not to be able to talk to David. David apparently understood more English than he spoke, but even the few English words he said were pronounced so differently that the children found it hard to puzzle out what he was saying.
‘Come on, David, talk,’ said Jack, who did not feel as sleepy as the others. ‘What’s this in Welsh?’ He held out his hand.
David began to realize that Jack wanted a lesson in Welsh, and he brightened up a little. He was a trifle embarrassed by Kiki, who insisted on repeating all the words he said too, and added a few nonsense words of her own for good measure.
The girls and Philip fell asleep in the shade, Lucy-Ann sharing Philip’s donkey to lean against. Dinah would have liked to do the same but she was afraid that Sally the slow-worm might come out of Philip’s pocket if she did, and nothing would make Dinah go near the silvery creature!
Jack patiently tried to learn a few Welsh words, and then got tired of it. He threw a few pebbles down the mountain-side, and gazed round at the many summits towering up in the distance. There was one odd one, shaped like three teeth, that amused him. He decided to look it up on the map.
The map, however, was rather disappointing. It showed very few names in the district where they were, probably because it had been very little visited, and there were no farmhouses or other buildings to put on record. Jack found a name that seemed to him to fit the mountain. ‘Fang Mountain,’ he read. ‘That might be it. Gosh, what a lot of mountains there are about here! I bet nobody has ever explored them all. I’d like to fly over them in an aeroplane and look down on them. We haven’t seen a plane since we’ve been here. Off the route, I suppose.’
David had gone to round up the donkeys. Jack woke up the others. ‘Come on, lazy things! We’d better get on, or David will think we mean to camp here for the night. There’s a heavenly wind got up now. It will be gorgeous riding this afternoon.’
Soon they were all on their donkeys again, jogging along round the mountain-side, enjoying the wind and the sun, gazing on the different vistas that opened up before them round every bend of the track. New mountains reared up far-away heads, new skylines appeared. For long stretches the children said nothing at all to one another, but simply drank in the beauty around them, and the sun and wind.
They travelled until six o’clock, having decided to keep to the high tea that Mrs Evans had at the farm. Jack spoke to David when six o’clock came.
‘David! We stop at half-past six. Do you know a good place to camp for the night near here?’
David did not understand and Jack repeated it more slowly. David smiled and nodded.
‘Iss! Iss!’ This meant ‘yes’, and Jack looked as David pointed to a wooded spot some way ahead. David said something else in Welsh, and Jack caught a few words here and there which he understood. One was ‘water’, the other was ‘trees’.
‘David says there’s a good place to camp in a little way off!’ Jack shouted back to the others. ‘There’s water there, and trees.’
‘Gosh! However do you understand him?’ said Philip in admiration. ‘Jolly clever of you, Jack!’
Jack grinned all over his freckled face. ‘Oh, I just caught the words “water” and “trees”, that’s all! Come on, let’s get there in time to watch the sun sink over the mountains. I’d like to have a sunset with my sandwiches!’
Philip laughed. They all ambled on towards the spot pointed out by David. It was a little further than they thought, but when they got there they all agreed it was just the right place to camp for the night.
A spring gushed out beside the small wooded patch, as cold as ice. The trees sheltered the campers from the night-wind, which could be very chilly at times. The donkeys were to be tied to trees so that they would not wander in the night. Everything was perfect!
The children were tired but happy. They slid off their donkeys’ backs, and the little beasts, tired now too, were taken to the spring to drink. They stood patiently waiting their turn, whilst Snowy skipped about like a mad thing, not in the least tired with his long trip.
‘We’ll put up the tents after we’ve had a meal and a rest,’ said Philip. ‘Get out the food, Lucy-Ann and Dinah. There’s a nice flat stone here we can use as a table.’
Soon the supper, or high tea, was spread out on the big flat stone, and mugs of lemonade were set by each plate. The children drained them at once, and Jack was sent to get more ice-cold water from the spring.
They all ate quickly, for they were very hungry again. They said very little until the first edge of their appetite had worn off, then they all talked with their mouths full, eager to make the others remember the lovely day.
David ate too and listened. The donkeys pulled at the grass. Snowy was with Dapple, and Kiki was eating a tomato and dripping the juice down Jacks neck. They all felt as if they couldn’t possibly be happier.
‘Now we’ll put up the tents,’ said Jack at l
ast. ‘Come on, Philip! It’ll be dark before we’ve put them up if we don’t make haste!’
8
First night in camp
The girls washed the dirty crockery in the cold spring water whilst David and the boys unpacked the tents from the donkey that carried them. They took off the whole of his pack, and also unstrapped the heavy panniers from the other donkey. Both were delighted to be rid of their loads. They lay down on the ground and rolled, kicking their legs up into the air.
Kiki couldn’t understand this at all, and flew up into a tree. ‘She thinks they’ve gone mad,’ said Jack. ‘It’s all right, Kiki, they’re only feeling glad because their packs have gone!’
Kiki made a noise like a train screeching in a tunnel, and the two rolling donkeys leapt to their feet in alarm and raced some way down the hill. David also jumped violently, and then called to the donkeys.
‘Kiki, if you do that again I’ll tie your beak up!’ threatened Jack. ‘Spoiling this lovely peaceful evening with that horrible screech!’
‘Wipe your feet, wipe your feet!’ screamed Kiki and danced from foot to foot on her branch.
The tents were soon put up, side by side. David did not want to sleep in one. He preferred to sleep outside. He had never slept in a tent, and he thought they were quite unnecessary.
‘Well, I’d just as soon he slept outside,’ said Jack to Philip. ‘I don’t believe there’d be room for one more in here, do you?’
‘Let’s leave the tent-flaps open,’ said Lucy-Ann, coming up with the clean crockery. ‘Then we can look out down the mountain-side. I wouldn’t mind a bit sleeping in the open air, like David, as a matter of fact.’
‘Wind’s too cold,’ said Jack. ‘You’ll be glad to have a cosy sleeping-bag, Lucy-Ann! David must be very hardy – he’s only got a thin rug to cover himself with, and he’s apparently going to sleep on the bare ground!’
The sun had now disappeared completely. It had gone behind the mountains in a perfect blaze of colour, and all the summits had gleamed for a while, and then darkness had crept up to the very tops, leaving only a clear sky beyond. Stars were now winking here and there, and a cold wind was blowing up the mountain.
The donkeys were tied loosely to trees. Some of them were lying down. Dapple was looking out for Snowy, but the kid had gone to Philip, and was waiting for him to go into his tent.
They all washed at the spring – but David seemed rather astonished to see the four children solemnly splashing themselves with the cold water. He had drawn his thin rug over him and was lying quite still, looking up to the starry sky.
‘He’s not what you might call a very cheerful companion, is he?’ said Jack. ‘I expect he thinks we’re all quite mad, the way we joke and laugh and fool about. Buck up, Philip, and get into the tent.’
The girls were already in their tent. They had slid down into their sleeping-bags and tied them up loosely at the neck. Each bag had a big hood to come over the head. They were comfortable, quite roomy, and very warm.
Lucy-Ann could see out of the tent opening. Stars twinkled in the sky, looking very big and bright. There was no sound at all, except of the trickle-trickle of the spring, and the sound of the wind in the trees.
‘We might be alone in the world,’ said Lucy-Ann to Dinah. ‘Dinah, imagine that we are. It gives you an awfully queer feeling. It’s wizard!’
But Dinah hadn’t got Lucy-Ann’s imagination and she yawned. ‘Go to sleep,’ she said. ‘Are the boys in their tent yet? I wish they were a bit further away. I’ve got an awful feeling that slow-worm will come slithering here in the night.’
‘It won’t hurt you if it does,’ said Lucy-Ann, snuggling down in her sleeping-bag. ‘Oh, this is super! I do think we have lovely hols, don’t you, Dinah?’
But Dinah was asleep already. Her eyes had shut and she was dreaming. Lucy-Ann stayed awake a little longer, enjoying the sound of the running spring and the wind. She still felt rather as if she was on her donkey, jogging up and down. Then her eyes closed too.
The boys talked for a little while. They had thoroughly enjoyed their day. They gazed out of the open flap of the tent. ‘It’s pretty wild and desolate, here,’ said Jack sleepily. ‘It’s surprising there’s a track to follow, really. Decent of Bill and Aunt Allie to let us come by ourselves!’
‘Mmmmmmm!’ said Philip, listening, but too sleepy to answer.
‘Mmmmmmm!’ imitated Kiki from the top of the tent outside. It was too hot for her in it.
‘There’s Kiki,’ said Jack. ‘I wondered where she was. Philip, aren’t you hot with Snowy on top of you?’
‘Mmmmmmm!’ said Philip, and again there came the echo from the tent-top. ‘Mmmmmmm!’
Snowy was almost on top of Philip. He had tried his hardest to squeeze into the boy’s sleeping-bag with him, but Philip was quite firm about that.
‘If you think you’re going to stick your sharp little hooves into me all night long, you’re wrong, Snowy,’ he said, and tied up his bag firmly at the neck, in case Snowy should try any tricks in the night. The slow-worm was somewhere about too. Philip was too sleepy to bother to think where. Sally slid about where she pleased. Philip was now quite used to the sudden slithering movement that occurred at times somewhere about his body, which meant that Sally was on the move again.
There were a few more quiet remarks from Kiki, who was apparently talking to herself. Then silence. The little camp slept under the stars. The night-wind nosed into the tent, but could not get into the cosy sleeping-bags. Snowy felt too hot, walked over Philip, trod on Jack and went to lie in the tent opening. He gave a tiny bleat and Kiki bleated in answer.
David was up and about before the children the next day. He was looking at his donkeys when Philip put a tousled head out of the tent opening to sniff at the morning. ‘Lovely!’ he said. ‘Stop butting me, Snowy! Your little head is jolly hard! Jack! Stir yourself. It’s a gorgeous morning.’
Soon all the campers were out of their sleeping-bags and running about. They splashed at the spring, laughing at nothing. Snowy bounded everywhere, quite mad too. Kiki hooted like a car, and startled the donkeys. Even David smiled to see such early-morning antics!
They had breakfast – tongue, cream cheese and rather stale bread, with a tomato each. There was no lemonade left because they had been so lavish with it the day before, so they drank the cold spring water and vowed it was just as nice as lemonade.
‘David! Shall we get to the Vale of Butterflies today?’ asked Jack, and then repeated it again slowly, flapping his arms to show David that he was talking about butterflies. It took David a minute or two to realize this. Then he shook his head.
‘Tomorrow?’ asked Philip, and David nodded. He went to strap the packs on the donkeys again and to put on the big pannier baskets. All the little grey creatures were waiting impatiently to set off. Already the sun was getting well above the mountains, and, for David and the donkeys at any rate, it was late!
They set off at last, though Jack had to gallop back to get his field-glasses which he had left behind, hanging from a tree-branch. Then they were all in a line, one donkey behind the other, ambling over the mountains with the wind in their hair.
Jack felt sure he saw a couple of buzzards that day and rode most of the time with his field-glasses in his hand, ready to clap them to his eyes at the first sight of specks in the sky. The others saw red squirrels among the trees they passed, shy but tame. One shared the children’s lunch, darting up for tit-bits, but keeping a wary eye for Kiki and Snowy.
‘It wants to come with you, Philip,’ said Lucy-Ann, amused when the red squirrel put a paw on Philip’s knee.
Philip stroked the pretty little thing gently. It quivered, half frightened, but did not bound away. Then Kiki swooped down and the squirrel fled.
‘You would spoil things, you jealous bird!’ said Philip. ‘Go away, I don’t want you. Go to Jack, and let the squirrels come to me.’
Swallows flew round them once again, not attracted by the
food, but by the flies that pestered the donkeys. The children could hear the snapping of their beaks as they caught the flies.
‘We ought to get Jack to tame a few swallows and take them with us to catch the flies,’ said Lucy-Ann, slapping at a big one on her leg. ‘Horrid things! I’ve been bitten by something already. You wouldn’t think there’d be any as high up as this, would you?’
Sally the slow-worm came out to eat the fly that Lucy-Ann had killed. She was getting much too tame for Dinah’s liking. She lay in the sun, gleaming like silver, and then slid under Philip as Snowy came up enquiringly.
‘Keep your nose out of things,’ said Philip, pushing the kid away as it tried to nose under him to find the slow-worm. Snowy butted him hard and then tried to get on his lap.
‘Too hot, too hot,’ said Philip. ‘Why did we ever bring a little pest like you, Snowy? You breathed down my neck all night!’
Lucy-Ann giggled. She loved Snowy. They all did. The kid was mischievous, given to butting, and didn’t mind treading on anyone – but he was so lively, so full of spring and bounce, so affectionate that it was impossible to be cross with him for long.
‘Come on,’ said Philip at last. ‘David’s clearing his throat as if he’s going to tell us we’re too lazy for words.’
David had a habit of clearing his throat about a dozen times before he spoke. It was a nervous habit which Kiki copied to perfection. She would sit near him, and make a noise as if she was clearing her throat every time he did the same thing. Then she would go off into a cackle of laughter. David always stared at her solemnly when she did this.
They travelled well that second day, and went a long way. When the time came to camp again, David looked earnestly over the mountains as if he was searching for something.
‘Lost your handkerchief, old chap?’ said Jack, and everyone laughed. David looked solemnly at him, not understanding. Then he suddenly began to flap his arms like wings, and to say a few words in Welsh.