There seemed so many interesting things to see and hear at Garth Avon that the two girls amused themselves out-of-doors until after seven o'clock, when they heard a brisk ringing of bells, and, running to the gate, were just in time to open it for Linda's brothers, who came riding up on their bicycles. Oswald was a few years older than Linda, and Artie a little younger; both were nice hearty boys, who seemed ready to make friends at once with their sister's visitor.

"We've heard such a jolly lot about you, you know," said Oswald, shaking hands. "Lin can talk of n.o.body else. We always say the school must be made up of Sylvia and Miss Kaye."

"You're late, aren't you?" asked Linda. "We thought you'd have been here an hour ago."

"We may well be late. Artie's tyre punctured on the road between Abergele and Llandulas, and we had to walk our machines to Colwyn Bay before we could get anyone to mend it. We tried to patch it up ourselves, but I hadn't a big enough piece of rubber to cover it. Then the fellow at the bicycle shop was such a slow chap, I thought he was going to be all night fiddling over it, and we didn't dare to pump it till it had dried a little. Luckily we got some tea before we left school, but we're hungry enough now. Isn't supper ready?"

"Ready and spoiling," said Linda. "It's sausages, and I could smell them cooking through the kitchen window half an hour ago. Sylvia and I have been watching in the garden for you ever so long. Be quick and come down; I want to tell you about a most delightful plan I've thought of for to-morrow."

CHAPTER XV

An Excursion with a Donkey

Linda's plan proved such a promising one that both the boys and Sylvia fell in readily with her ideas. She suggested that they should all four make an excursion to the top of Pen y Gaer, a mountain in the neighbourhood, where were the remains of a very fine British camp, and from which they could obtain an excellent view over the whole of the Conway valley. As it was rather a long walk from Craigwen, she thought they might borrow a donkey and take it in turns to ride, and also carry their lunch on its back. They could no doubt buy milk, and get hot water at a farm, so that they would be able to make tea before they returned, and thus enjoy a whole day on the moors. Mrs. Marshall willingly gave her consent. Her children were fond of picnics, and steady enough to look after themselves without any grown-up person being with them; she had always encouraged the boys at any rate to be self-reliant, and though Artie was apt to fall occasionally into mischief, she knew Oswald would take care of the little girls and bring them home safely in the evening.

Sylvia looked forward so much to the expedition that she could scarcely sleep for excitement when she got into the large spare bed with Linda and the candle was blown out. She lay awake for quite a long time, listening to an owl hooting in the trees, and the soft rippling sound of a stream which flowed at the bottom of the garden; then at last they both merged into a confused dream, and she remembered nothing more till she woke with the sun pouring in through the window, and Linda's voice proclaiming that it was a particularly fine, warm morning, and the very day in all the year which she would have chosen to scale the heights of Pen y Gaer.

Directly breakfast was over, the children started off first to a neighbouring farm to borrow the donkey, a s.h.a.ggy little creature called Teddie, which was chiefly used by his owner to fetch sacks of flour from the mill. He was not accustomed to either saddle or bridle, but the boys led him home by a halter, and tied a cushion on to his back with a piece of rope. They slung their lunch baskets and two enamelled tin mugs on either side, like saddle-bags, then, giving Sylvia the first ride, they helped her to mount, and set off towards the mountains with Scamp and Bute racing in wild excitement around them.

It was a very hot day, so it was pleasant to think that they would soon be out of the close woods, and away on the breezy moors. The country was at its best; the fields were blue with wild hyacinths, and the hedgerows yellow with gorse and broom, while everywhere the tender shoots of the young bracken were unfolding, and showing delicate golden-green fronds. It was a little late for birds'-nesting, yet Oswald and Artie, boylike, could not resist hunting in each likely-looking spot, though a blackbird's second brood, a deserted linnet's nest, and a last year's yellow-hammer's were the sole result of their search.

"I wish we could make the donkey trot!" said Sylvia, who had dismounted to spare poor Teddie's legs for the hardest part of the hill, but had taken her seat again on reaching a level piece of road.

"We'll try what we can do," said Artie, producing his penknife and cutting a stick carefully from a hazel tree. "I'll give him a switch, but I advise you to hold on tight, in case he kicks."

It was not a very hard blow, but Teddie seemed to resent it extremely.

He was a donkey with a character, and instead of galloping on, as Sylvia had hoped, he ran straight into the hedge, where he entangled both her hat and hair so successfully in a wild-rose bush, that she had to scream to be released.

"Perhaps you hit him on the wrong side," she suggested, when the donkey's nose had been pulled out into the lane again.

"Then we'll try the other," said Artie, who, having dropped his stick, administered a sounding smack on the thick, s.h.a.ggy coat.

Teddie, however, evidently did not intend to be coerced; he made at once for the opposite hedge, and Sylvia found herself in equal difficulties with a long spray of bramble.

"He's the most obstinate little beast I've ever known," said Linda.

"We'll try him just once more. Oswald, you hold his head exactly in the middle of the road, then Artie and I'll each give him a thump at the same second, one on each side. Are you ready, Artie! One, two, three, off!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE ENTANGLED BOTH HER HAT AND HAIR IN A WILD-ROSE BUSH"]

This time it was really off and away. The donkey took to his heels, and cantered along the road in fine style, with the boys and Linda racing after him, encouraging Sylvia, who was laughing and trying to hold on her hat and to keep the lunch from falling, while Scamp and Bute barked themselves hoa.r.s.e. The enamelled mugs b.u.mped against poor Teddie's sides, and alarmed him so much that perhaps he thought somebody was switching him in front, and intended him to run backwards, for he stopped quite suddenly, and lowered his head, with the result that Sylvia shot over his neck, and found herself sitting in the dusty road.

"It serves me right!" she laughed. "No, I'm not hurt in the least.

It's too bad to make him trot when he's carrying both me and the lunch. I'll walk now, and give him a rest, and then it will be Linda's turn to ride him."

The road, after winding uphill for several miles between woods and high banks, led at last on to the moors, where there was a kind of tableland flanked on two sides by chains of mountains.

"We're not such a very long way from the Druids' circle," said Linda.

"It's only over that peak, I believe."

"It's farther than you'd imagine," said Oswald. "Hilda and I went to it once, and we thought we should never get there. It's a much easier way from Aberglyn. Things look so very plain in this clear air that you often think you're quite close when really you're several miles off, and you walk and walk, and never seem to get any nearer."

"I hope that won't happen with Pen y Gaer; we can see it so well now,"

said Linda, gazing at the round green top that did not show its full height from the plateau, though it looked imposing enough from the valley below.

"It's quite far enough to make me want lunch before I go any farther,"

said Oswald. "There's a stream down here where we can get some water to drink. Suppose we fasten Teddie to the gate, and camp out on the stones."

The others agreed. The donkey had already satisfied its thirst at a brooklet that crossed the road, so they tied it to the rail of the gate with a piece of rope long enough to allow it to crop the gra.s.s at the edge of the path, and, descending themselves to the bed of the river, spread out their lunch on a large flat boulder. Mrs. Marshall had experience in the matter of picnics. First there were ham sandwiches, sufficiently thick to take the keen edge off their appet.i.tes, but not enough to spoil the hard-boiled eggs and bread and b.u.t.ter which followed; then came marmalade sandwiches and seed cake; and last of all some delicious little turnovers, made with tops like mince pies, and with strawberry jam inside. Everybody was hungry, and everybody did such ample justice to the good fare that there was nothing but a solitary turnover left, which they decided to divide between the dogs, which had already had their share of the meal.

"It's not enough to keep for tea," said Oswald. "I expect we can get some bread and b.u.t.ter at the farm, as well as the milk and hot water.

Look! there are trout in this stream. I saw a big fellow just then swimming across the pool."

"So did I," said Artie. "He went under that rock. I'm going to wade and see if I can get him out."

Both boys pulled off their shoes and stockings, and, plunging into the river, began to engage in the very unsportsmanlike pastime of tickling trout. They paddled cautiously upstream, putting their hands under every likely stone till they felt a fish, then, very gently moving their fingers along until they had him by the gills, would manage with a quick jerk to toss him out of the water on to the bank. Linda and Sylvia followed along the side, much excited at this new form of fishing, and gathering up the trout placed them in one of the lunch baskets. The boys had succeeded in catching five or six, which lay shining and silvery, gasping their last, and they were both trying for a particularly big one which they could see lying in the cranny of a rock.

"He'll be a tough subject," said Oswald. "I'll do my best, but you be ready to make a grab if I miss him!"

Oswald stealthily put forward his hand, but the trout was on the alert, and long before he could reach its gills it had darted into the pool, escaping Artie also, who nearly fell into the water in his efforts to secure it.

"Missed him! What a shame! And he was such a beauty!" cried the disconsolate boys.

"Now then, what are you doing there, you young poachers?" shouted a voice from the opposite bank, and, looking up, the children saw a tall man, in a corduroy velveteen suit and a soft round hat, frowning at them with a most unamiable expression of countenance.

They were so astonished that none of them knew what to say.

"Come out of that stream this minute!" he commanded the boys, who obeyed, but naturally on the side where Linda and Sylvia were standing looking rather frightened at such an unexpected and angry visitor. The man, who had the appearance of a gamekeeper, crossed the river easily by jumping from stone to stone, and striding up to the little girls, peeped inside their basket.

"As I thought!" he remarked. "Now, you young rascals, do you know that I can take you all up and send you to prison for poaching?"

"Why," gasped Oswald, "we were only catching some trout!"

"Only catching some trout! He says he was only catching some trout!"

echoed the man, as if he were appealing to an imaginary companion. "I suppose he wouldn't call that poaching? Oh, no!"

"We get them like this in our own stream at home," said Artie.

"That's quite a different matter. Because you get bread and b.u.t.ter at home's no reason why you should walk into my house and take mine, is it? This fishing happens to be preserved, and I've got the care of it.

It's a very serious offence is poaching. I've caught you red-handed.

There's the trout in that basket to prove my words."

The boys looked at each other in much consternation.

"We didn't know we were doing any harm," said Oswald at last.