Five Go To Billy Cock Hill Part 3

she thought. 'There can't be anything nicer in the world than this - being with the others, having fun with them. No - I don't want to grow up!'

Then she, too, fell asleep, and night came quietly down, with stars brilliant in the sky, and very little noise to be heard anywhere - just the gurgling of the spring some way away, and the far-off bark of some dog - perhaps Binky at the farm. The breeze died down, so that even that could not be heard.

No one except Timmy awoke at all that night. Timmy put up one ear when he heard a squeak just above his head. It came again and he opened one eye. It was a small black bat circling and swooping, hunting for insects. Its squeak was so high that only Timmy's quick ear caught it. He put down his listening ear and went to sleep again.

n.o.body stirred until a very loud noise awakened them. R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! R-r-r-r-r- r-r-r-r-r! They all woke up with a jump and the boys sat up straight, startled. What could it be?

'It's a plane,' said Julian, staring up at a small aeroplane flying over the hill. 'It must be one from that airfield down there! I say - it's five past nine! Five past nine - we've slept for nearly twelve hours!' 'Well, I'm going to sleep for some more,' said d.i.c.k, snuggling down into his heathery bed again and shutting his eyes.

'No, you're not,' said Julian, giving him a shove. 'It's too good a day to waste in any more sleep. Hey, you girls - are you awake?'

'Yes,' called George, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. 'That aeroplane wakened me.

Anne's awake, too - and you can see that Timmy is; he's gone after a rabbit or something.'

'We'll all go and wash at the spring,' said Anne, scrambling off the rug. 'And George and I will get breakfast. Anyone like a boiled egg?'

The sun shone down out of a blue sky, and the little breeze awoke and began to blow again. They washed in the cold water, and Timmy drank it, lapping it thirstily as it splashed down over his nose. Then they had their breakfast.

It was easy to make a little fire in the shelter of the giant gorse bush, and boil the eggs in the saucepan. Bread and b.u.t.ter and tomatoes completed the simple meal, with cold creamy milk to wash it down.

In the middle of this Timmy began ta bark frantically, but as his tail was wagging all the time, the others guessed that it must be Toby coming. They heard Binky's answering bark, and then the dog himself appeared, panting and excited. He greeted Timmy first of all, and then ran round to give everyone a lick.

'Hallo, hallo, hallo!' came Toby's voice, and he appeared round the gorse bush.

'Had a good night? I say, aren't you late - still having your breakfast? My word, you're sleepy-heads! I've been up since six. I've milked cows and cleaned out a shed, and fed the hens and collected the eggs.'

The Five immediately felt ashamed of themselves! They gazed at Toby in admiration - why, he was quite a farmer!

'I've brought you some more milk, bread and eggs and cake,' he said, and put down a basket.

'Jolly good of you,' said Julian. 'We must pay for any food we get from your farm, you know that. Any idea of how much we owe for yesterday's food and for what you've brought today?'

'Well, my mother says you don't need to pay her,' said Toby. 'But I know you mean to - so I suggest that you pay me each time and I'll put the money into a box and buy my mother a smas.h.i.+ng present at the end - from you all. Will that do?' 'That's a good idea,' said Julian. 'We couldn't possibly accept food if we didn't pay for it - but I know what mothers are - they don't like being paid in money for their kindness! So we'll do what you say. Now, reckon up what we owe so far, and I'll pay you.'

'Right,' said Toby in a business-like way, 'I'll charge you market prices, not top prices. I'll just tot up the bill while you're cleaning up and putting away what I've brought.'

The girls washed-up in the spring, and the boys carried everything there for Anne to put in her 'larder'. Toby presented Julian with a neatly-written bill, which he at once paid. Toby receipted the bill and gave it back.

'There you are - all business-like,' he said. 'Thanks very much. What are you going to do today? There are super caves to be explored if you like - or there's the b.u.t.terfly Farm - or you can just come down to our farm for the day.'

'No, not today,' said Julian, afraid that they might make themselves a nuisance to Mrs Thomas. 'I don't feel like seeing caves this morning either - so dark and eerie on such a sunny day. What shall we do, girls?'

But before they could decide Binky and Timmy began to bark, each dog standing quite still, facing the same way - towards the giant gorse bush.

'Who is it, Tim?' asked George. 'Go and see! Go on, then!'

Timmy ran behind the bush, followed by Binky, and then the children heard a surprised voice.

'Hallo, Binky! What are you doing all the way up here? And who's your friend?'

'It's Mr Gringle,' said Toby. 'One of the men who own the b.u.t.terfly Farm. He's often up here with his net, because it's a wonderful place for b.u.t.terflies.'

A man came round the gorse bush - rather a peculiar figure, untidy, with gla.s.ses slipping down his nose, and his hair much too long. He carried a big b.u.t.terfly net and stopped when he saw the five children.

'Hallo!' he said. 'Who are all these, Toby? Quite a crowd!'

'Friends of mine, Mr Cringle,' said Toby solemnly. 'Allow me to introduce them.

Julian Kirrin, d.i.c.k Kirrin, Anne Kirrin, George Kirrin, their cousin - and their dog Timothy.'

'Ha - pleased to meet you!' said Mr Gringle, and came shambling forward, his big b.u.t.terfly net over his shoulder. Behind his gla.s.ses shone curiously bright eyes. He nodded his head to each of the four cousins. 'Three boys - and a girl. Very nice lot, too. You don't look as if you'll leave litter about or start fires in this lovely countryside.'

'We shouldn't dream of it,' said George, delighted that he had thought she was a boy. Nothing pleased George as much as that! 'Mr Gringle - could we see your b.u.t.terfly Farm, please? We would so like to!'

'Of course, my dear boy, of course,' said Mr Gringle, and his eyes shone as if he were very pleased. 'We don't often have visitors, so it's quite an event when somebody comes along. This way, this way!'

Chapter Six

THE b.u.t.tERFLY FARM

Mr Gringle led the way down the hill by a little path so overgrown that it was hardly possible to see it. Halfway down the little company heard a squealing noise - and then an excited little voice.

'Toby, Toby! I'm here! Can I come with you?'

'It's Benny - and the pigling!' said Anne, amused at the little couple making their way excitedly towards them. Timmy ran to Curly and sniffed him all over, still not quite sure that he wasn't some kind of strange Puppy.

'What are you doing up here?' said Toby sternly. 'You know you're not supposed to wander too far from the farm. You'll get lost one of these days, Benny.'

'Curly runned away,' said Benny, looking up at his big brother with wide brown eyes.

'You mean you wanted to find out where I'd gone so you came after me with Curly,' said Toby.

'Curly runned away, he runned fast!' said Benny, looking as if he was going to cry.

'You're a scoundrel, Benny,' said Toby. 'You make that pigling of yours an excuse for getting about all over the place. You wait till Dad hears it - you'll get such a spanking. Well - tail on to us now - we're going to the b.u.t.terfly Farm. And if Curly runs away, let him! I'm tired of that pig.' 'I'll carry him,' said Benny, and picked up the little creature in his arms. But he soon had to put him down, for Curly squealed so loudly that Timmy and Binky both leapt round him in great concern.

'Hm - well - shall we proceed?' asked Mr Gringle, walking on in front. 'Quite a party we have today.'

'Are your b.u.t.terflies afraid of pigs or dogs?' asked Benny, trotting beside him.

'Shall we leave them outside?'

'Don't ask idiotic questions, Benny,' said Toby. Then he gave a cry and caught Mr Gringle's arm. 'I say sir - look at that b.u.t.terfly. Don't you want to catch it? Is it rare?'

'No,' said Mr Gringle rather coldly. 'It's a meadow-brown - very common indeed.

Don't they teach you anything at school? Fancy not knowing that!'

'Julian, do we have any b.u.t.terfly lessons?' asked Toby with a grin. 'I say, Mr Gringle, what about you coming and teaching us about Cabbage b.u.t.terflies and Cauliflower Moths, and Red Admirals and Blue Captains and Peac.o.c.k b.u.t.terflies and Ostrich Moths and...'

'Don't be an a.s.s, Toby,' said Julian, seeing that Mr Gringle had no sense of humour at all, and did not think this in the least funny. 'Mr Gringle, are there many rare b.u.t.terflies about here?'

'Oh, yes, yes,' said the b.u.t.terfly Man. 'But not only that - there are so many of all kinds here, and it is easy to catch as many as I want for breeding purposes. One b.u.t.terfly means hundreds of eggs, you know - and we hatch them out and sell them.'

He suddenly made a dart to one side, almost knocking George over. 'Sorry, boy!'

he said, making the others smile, 'sorry! There's a Brown Argus there - a lovely specimen, first I've seen this year! Stand clear, will you.'

The children - and the dogs, too - stood still as he tiptoed towards a small dark brown b.u.t.terfly spreading its tiny wings as it sat on a flowering plant. With a swift downwards swoop the net closed over the plant, and in a trice the b.u.t.terfly Man had caught the fluttering insect. He pinched the net inwards, and showed the children the tiny creature.

'There you are - a female Brown Argus, one of the family of the Blue b.u.t.terflies you see so often in full summer. She'll lay me plenty of eggs and they'll all hatch into fat little slug-like caterpillars, and...' 'But this isn't a blue b.u.t.terfly,' said Anne, looking through the fine net. 'It's dark brown, with a row of pretty orange spots along the margins of its wings.'

'All the same, it belongs to the Blue b.u.t.terfly family,' said Mr Gringle, taking it out with the gentlest of fingers and putting it into a tin case slung round his shoulders. 'It's probably come up from one of those hay meadows down in the valley there. In you go, my little beauty!'

'Mr Gringle, quick - here's a most lovely b.u.t.terfly!' called George. 'It's got greeny-black front wings with red spots, and lovely red back wings with dark green borders. Oh, quick - I'm sure you want this one!'

'That's not a b.u.t.terfly,' said d.i.c.k, who knew a good deal about them.

'I should think not!' said Mr Gringle, getting his net poised ready to swoop. 'It's a moth - a lovely little thing!' Down went his net and the pretty little red and green insect fluttered in surprise inside it.

'But moths don't fly in the daytime,' argued George. 'Only at night.'

'Rubbis.h.!.+' said Mr Gringle, looking at the moth through the thick lens of his gla.s.ses. 'What are boys coming to nowadays? In my boyhood nearly every boy knew that there are night-time and day-time ones as well!'

'But,' began George again, and stopped as Mr Gringle gave her quite a glare.

'This is a Six-Spot Burnet Day-Flying Moth,' he said, speaking slowly as if he were addressing a very small child. 'It loves to fly in the hot suns.h.i.+ne. Please do not argue with me. I don't like ignorance of this sort.'

George looked rather mutinous and d.i.c.k nudged her. 'He's right, fat-head,' he said in a low voice. 'You don't know much about moths, so say nothing, George, or he won't let us go with him.'

'I'd like two or three more of these Six-Spots highly-coloured and unusually large.

Perhaps you would see if you can find any more, all of you.'

Everybody began to look here and there, and to shake any little bush or clump of gra.s.s they pa.s.sed. Timmy and Binky were most interested in this and began a hunt on their own, sniffing and snuffling everywhere, not quite sure what they were looking for, but enjoying it all the same.

Mr Gringle took a long time to get to his b.u.t.terfly Farm, and the children began to wish they hadn't asked to go. There was so much sidestepping to see this and that, so much examining when a specimen was caught, so much 'talky-talk', as d.i.c.k whispered to Anne. 'Do you keep your b.u.t.terflies and moths in those gla.s.s-houses?' asked Julian.

'Yes,' said Mr Gringle. 'Come along - I'll show you what I and my friend Mr Brent do. He's away today, so you can't meet him.'

It was certainly a queer place. The cottage looked as if it were about to fall down at any moment. Two of the windows were broken and some tiles had fallen off the roof. But the gla.s.s-houses were in good repair, and the gla.s.s panes were perfectly clean. Evidently the b.u.t.terfly Men thought more of their b.u.t.terflies and moths than they did of themselves.

'Do you live here all alone with Mr Brent, your friend?' asked d.i.c.k curiously, thinking that it must be a strange and lonely life.

'Oh, no. Old Mrs Janes does for us,' said Mr Cringle. 'And sometimes her son comes here to do any small repairs, and to clean all the gla.s.s of the b.u.t.terfly houses. There's the old lady, look. She can't bear insects of any sort, so she never comes into the gla.s.s houses.'

An old woman, looking exactly like a witch, peered out at them through a window in the cottage. Anne was quite scared to see her. Toby grinned. 'She's quite harmless,' he said to Anne. 'Our cook knows her because she often comes to us for eggs and milk. She's got no teeth at all, so she mutters and mumbles and that makes her seem more like a witch than ever.'

'I don't much like the look of her,' said Anne, going thankfully into the first of the b.u.t.terfly houses. 'Oh - what a lot of b.u.t.terflies!'

There certainly were! Hundreds were flying about loose, and many others were in little compartments either by themselves or with another b.u.t.terfly to match, The children saw that many bushes and plants were growing in the gla.s.s-house, and on some of them were placed long sleeves made of muslin, tied in at each end.

'What's in these long sleeves of fine muslin?' asked d.i.c.k. 'Oh - I see. They are full of caterpillars! My word, how they are eating, too!'

'Yes. I told you we breed b.u.t.terflies and moths,' said Mr Gringle, and he opened the end of one of the muslin bags, so that the visitors could see the caterpillars better. 'These are the caterpillars of one kind of b.u.t.terfly; they feed on this particular plant.'

The children gazed at scores of green caterpillars, marked with red and yellow spots, all eating greedily on the leaves of the twig enclosed there. Mr Gringle undid another of the muslin bags and showed them some huge caterpillars, each of them green, with purple stripes on the side and a curious black horn on the tail end. 'Privet-Hawk Moth Caterpillars,' said Mr Gringle, and Julian and d.i.c.k nodded.

They knew these big green caterpillars quite well.

'Why is the moth called Privet-Hawk?' asked Anne. 'There are so many different Hawk-moths, I know. I've often wondered why they are all called Hawk.'

Mr Gringle beamed at Anne, evidently thinking that this was a quite intelligent question, 'Haven't you ever seen a Hawk Moth flying?' he said. 'No? Well, it flies very strongly indeed. Oh, a most striking flight - like the flight of the bird called a hawk, you know.'

'You're not feeding the caterpillars on privet, though,' said George. 'But you said they were privet-hawks.'

'There isn't any privet growing near here,' said Mr Gringle. 'So I give them elder - this is an elder bush which I planted in the gla.s.s-house. They like it just as much.'

The b.u.t.terfly Farm was certainly interesting, and the children wandered about the gla.s.s-house watching caterpillars of all kinds, admiring the lovely specimens of b.u.t.terflies, and marvelling at the collection of curious-shaped chrysalides and coc.o.o.ns that Mr Gringle kept carefully in boxes, waiting for the perfect insect, moth or b.u.t.terfly, to emerge.

'Like magic,' he said in an awed voice, his eyes s.h.i.+ning behind his gla.s.ses.

'Sometimes, you know, I feel like a magician myself - and my b.u.t.terfly net is a wand!'

The children felt rather uncomfortable as he said this, waving his b.u.t.terfly net to and fro like a wand. He really was rather a queer person.

'It's terribly hot in here,' said Julian suddenly. 'Let's get into the fresh air. I've had enough. Good-bye, Mr Gringle, and thank you!'

Out they all went and drew in deep breaths of fresh air. And then they heard a croaking voice behind them.

'Get out of here!' said the voice. 'Get out!'