Pigeon Post. Arthur Ransome

said Nancy. “If he has, we’ve simply got to go there. There’s no time to lose.”

      SLATER BOB TALKS OF GOLD

      She ran back.

      “Look here, Bob,” she said. “Don’t you say anything about it to that snooper. He might go looking for it right away.”

      “He’ll get no forrader with me,” said the old man, and turned again to shaping his prop with his axe.

      Nancy hurried after the others as fast as her guttering candle would let her.

      “Is it all no good?” Roger was asking, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

      “Don’t talk,” said Nancy. “Squashy Hat may be somewhere close to, and listening in the dark.”

      Not another word was spoken on the way out. They hurried silently along. When they turned the last corner into the straight and saw the pin-point of light so far away in front of them, it was as if they could not make it grow bigger fast enough. Their candles were nearly done. The melting wax had not time to cool before it reached their fingers. Peggy, in front, blew hers out. The others did the same. They had no need of candles now. More and more clearly they could see the rugged sides of the tunnel. They came suddenly out into the sunshine among grey piles of stone and slate. Coming out like that into the light after being so long in the darkness inside the hill, they looked at each other as if they were seeing each other for the first time.

      “Well, nobody’s touched our shoes,” said Roger.

      “Look here,” said Susan. “You can get some of the dirt off by standing with your feet in the trickle. Don’t put them all muddy into your shoes. Oh Roger, not your handkerchief!”

      “It’s all right,” said Roger, finishing the drying of his feet. “I haven’t got a cold, so I shan’t want to blow my nose or anything like that.”

      “Hurry up,” said Nancy. “We can get them clean afterwards. Let’s just see if that man’s still there.”

      “Don’t stare at him if he is,” said John. “Just walk straight on as if you hadn’t seen.”

      Two minutes later they were leaving the outworks of the old mine, coming out between piles of rough stones and dropping down the track into the valley.

      “He’s there,” whispered Roger.

      Up on the fellside above the entrance to the old level, the man with the squashy hat was sitting where they had seen him last.

      “He’s got a map,” said Titty.

      “Perhaps it’s the map,” said Dorothea.

      “Don’t let him see we’ve spotted him,” said John.

      They walked steadily on till Nancy could bear it no longer.

      “Somebody tie a shoelace,” she said. “We must see what he’s doing.”

      Titty instantly limped, hopped once or twice, and stopped to untie a shoelace and tie it up again. “He’s coming down,” she said.

      The others turned, as if to urge her to be quick. They could all see him, a tall, thin man in grey flannels, scrambling down through the bracken.

      “He may not be going to the mine at all,” said Susan.

      But at that moment they saw him reach the track and disappear among those great heaps of stones.

      “He’s gone in,” said Dorothea.

      “He won’t get much out of Slater Bob now,” said Nancy.

      “He’ll bump his head if he hasn’t got a candle,” said Roger.

      “Probably got one in his pocket,” said Dick.

      “Not in his pocket,” said Susan. “At least I shouldn’t think so.”

      “Look here,” said Nancy. “We’ll simply have to go and camp on High Topps.”

      “Mother’ll never let us,” said Peggy. “She said we’d have to camp at Beckfoot as long as she was the only native. And when the other natives come everybody’ll want to sail and go down to Wild Cat.”

      “And then it’ll be too late,” said Nancy. “We’ve got to find it before Captain Flint comes home. And, anyway, we can’t let Squashy Hat get in and find it first.”

      “Do you think he’s heard the story?” said Titty.

      “Must have,” said Nancy. “Look where he was coming from. Over the top of the Scar. He was coming from High Topps. He’s begun looking already. And we’re just hanging about … Come on. When mother knows how awfully urgent it is … And, anyway, it was partly her own idea … Come on. Let’s just see how soon we can get home.”

CHAPTER IV

      MRS BLACKETT MAKES CONDITIONS

      IT WAS NO GOOD trying to talk to Mrs Blackett until the paperers and plasterers had gone for the day. By that time the pigeons had been fed and Susan and Peggy had got the campfire going in the open space in the wood just off the lawn. Mrs Blackett was coming to join them at a meal, tea and supper combined, and the cooks were going to show how good a meal they could make with minced pemmican served hot with plenty of green peas out of a tin and potatoes they had dug for themselves in the kitchen garden. Meanwhile, Nancy and John were at work in the stableyard mending an old handcart. It was a good enough handcart except that one of its wheels kept coming off and one of its handles had been broken. By taking off the good wheel, at Dick’s suggestion, they had found out what was wrong with the other, and the handcart was ready for use and was being run fast up and down the cobbled yard, to make sure that it would not come to pieces again, when Mrs Blackett, hearing the noise, came out to see what was happening.

      “We’ve got to start trekking tomorrow,” said Nancy firmly. “We’ve got to shift the whole camp up to High Topps.”

      “But Ruth, I mean Nancy, you wild creature, whatever for? I thought it was all settled that you were to camp here and go prospecting for gold. Didn’t you find Slater Bob?”

      “Yes,” said Nancy. “And the gold isn’t here at all. It’s up on High Topps. And there’s someone else looking for it. We haven’t got a minute to lose. It’s too late to move tonight, but we’ll get going first thing in the morning.”

      “No,” said Mrs Blackett. “Impossible altogether. Mrs Walker might not mind so very much, but there are the Callums.”

      “What about Susan?” said Nancy. “She’ll look after them. Don’t go and say ‘No’ right away. Come along and see the others. Hi! John, do go and tell Susan mother’s coming and everything’s going to be all right.”

      “I never said so,” said Mrs Blackett. “Don’t tell her anything of the sort.”

      But John was gone. This was something between Nancy and her mother. He couldn’t very well join in and say he wanted to get away from Mrs Blackett’s garden. He slipped away through the house, putting his head in at Captain Flint’s study door on the way. Dick was there, reading about gold in the Encyclopædia. Dorothea was seated at the table taking the chance of scribbling down a few sentences in her story, The Outlaw of the Broads, that she had not had time to finish at school. Titty was looking at the picture of the armadillo.

      “Come on,” said John. “Come along to the camp. Nancy’s begun persuading Mrs Blackett and they’ll be there in two ticks.”