Five Go to Mystery Moor (7 page)

„We"ve got some questions to ask you," said George, dismounting.

„Ask away!" said the old man. „If it"s about this place, there"s nothing much old Ben can"t tell you! Give Jim your horses. Now, ask away!"

Well, began Julian, „we went riding on Mystery Moor yesterday, and for one thing we"d like to know if there is any reason for the curious name. Was there ever a mystery on that moor?"

„Oh, there be plenty of mysteries away there," said Old Ben. „People lost and never come back again, noises that no one could find the reason of..."

„What kind of noises?" said Anne, curiously.

„Ah now, when I were a boy, I spent nights up on that moor," said old Ben, solemnly, „and the noises that went on there! Screeches and howls and the like, and moans and the sweep of big wings..."

„Well, all that might have been owls and foxes and things like that," said Dick. „I"ve heard a barn-owl give a screech just over my head which made me nearly jump out of my skin.

If I hadn"t known it was an owl I"d have run for miles!"

Ben grinned and his face ran into a score of creases and wrinkles.

„Why is it cal ed Mystery Moor?" persisted Julian. „Is it a very old name?"

„When my Grandad was a boy it were cal ed Misty Moor," said the old blacksmith, remembering. „See, Misty, not Mystery. And that were because of the sea-fogs that came stealing in from the coast, and lay heavy on the moor, so that no man could see his hand in front of his face. Yes, I"ve been lost in one of them mists, and right scared I was too. It swirled round me like a live thing, and touched me all over with its cold damp fingers."

„How horrid!" said Anne with a shiver. „What did you do?"

„Well, first I ran for my life," said Ben, getting out his pipe and looking into the empty bowl.

„I ran over heather and into gorse. I fel a dozen times, and all the time the mist was feeling me with its damp fingers, trying to get me, that"s what the old folk used to say of that mist, it was always trying to get you!"

„Stil , it was only a mist," said George, feeling that the old man was exaggerating. „Does it stil come over the moor?"

„Oh ay," said Ben, ramming some tobacco into his pipe. „Autumn"s the time, but it comes sudden-like at any moment of the year. I"ve knowed it come at the end of a fine summer"s day, creeping in stealthy-like, and my, if you don"t happen to see it soon enough, it gets you!"

„What do you mean, it gets you?" said George.

„Well, it may last for days," said old Ben. „And if you"re lost on them moors, you"re lost proper, and you never come back. Ah, smile if you like, young sir, but I knows!" He went off into memories of long ago, looking down at his pipe. „Let"s see now, there was old Mrs Banks, who went bilberry-picking with her basket on a summer"s afternoon, and no one ever heard of her again, after the mist came down. And there was young Victor who played truant and went off to the moors, and the mist got him too."

„I can see we"d better watch out for the mist if we go riding there," said Dick. „This is the first I"ve heard of it."

„Yes. You keep your eyes skinned," said old Ben. „Look away to the coast-side and watch there, that"s where it comes from. But there baint many mists nowadays, l don"t know for why. No, now I think on it, there haven"t been a mist, not a proper wicked one, for nigh on three years."

„What I"d like to know is why was the name changed to Mystery Moor," said Henry. „I can understand its being called Misty Moor, but now everyone cal s it Mystery, not Misty."

„Well now, that must have been about seventy years ago, when I were a bit of a boy,"

said Ben, lighting his pipe and puffing hard. He was enjoying himself. He didn"t often get such an interested audience as this, five of them, including a dog who sat and listened too!

„That was when the Bartle Family built the little railway over the moor," he began, and stopped at the exclamations of his five listeners.

„Ah! We wanted to know about that!"

„Oh! You know about the railway then!"

„Do go on!"

The blacksmith seemed to get some trouble with his pipe and pulled at it for an exasperatingly long time. George wished she was a horse and could stamp her foot impatiently!

„Well, the Bartle Family was a big one," said Ben at last. „Al boys, but for one ailing little girl. Big strong fellows they were, I remember them well. I was scared of them, they were so free with their fists. Well, one of them, Dan, found a mighty good stretch of sand out there on the moor..."

„Oh yes, we thought there might have been a sand-quarry," said Anne. Ben frowned at the interruption.

„And as there were nine or ten good strong Bartles, they reckoned to make a fine do of it,"

said Ben. „They got wagons and they went to and from the quarry they dug, and they sold their sand for miles around, good, sharp sand it were..."

„We saw some," said Henry. „But what about the rails?"

„Don"t hurry him," said Dick, with a frown.

„They made a mort of money," said Ben, remembering. „And they set to work and built a little railway to carry an injin and trucks to the quarry and back, to save labour. My, my, that were a nine days" wonder, that railway! Us youngsters used to follow the little injin, puffing along, and it were the longing of us al to drive it. But we never did. Them Bartles kept a big stick, each one of them, and they whipped the hide off any boy that got too near them. Fierce they were, and quarrelsome."

„Why did the railway fall into ruin?" asked Julian. „The rails are al overgrown with heather and grass now. You can hardly see them."

„Well, now we come to that there Mystery you keep on about," said Ben, taking an extra big puff at his pipe. „Them Bartles fel foul of the gypsies up on the moor..."

„Oh, were there gypsies on the moor then?" said Dick. „There are some now!"

„Oh ay, there"s always been gypsies on the moor, long as I can remember," said the blacksmith. „Well, it"s said them gypsies quarrelled with the Bartles, and it wasn"t hard to do that, most people did! And the gypsies pulled up bits of the line, here and there, and the little injin toppled over and pulled the trucks with it."

The children could quite well imagine the little engine puffing along, coming to the damaged rails and falling over. What a to-do there must have been up on the moor then!

„The Bartles weren"t ones to put up with a thing like that," said Ben, „so they set about to drive al the gypsies off the moor, and they swore that if so much as one caravan went there, they"d set fire to it and chase the gypsies over to the coast and into the sea!"

„They must have been a fierce family," said Anne.

„You"re right there," said Ben. „Al nine or ten of them were big upstanding men, with great shaggy eyebrows that almost hid their eyes, and loud voices. Nobody dared to cross them. If they did, they"d have the whole family on their door-step with sticks. They ruled this place, they did, and my, they were hated! Us children ran off as soon as we saw one coming round a corner."

„What about the gypsies? Did the Bartles manage to drive them off the moor?" asked George, impatiently.

„Now you let me go my own pace," said Ben, pointing at her with his pipe. „You want a Bartle after you, young sir, that"s what you want!" He thought she was a boy, of course. He did something to his pipe and made them al wait a little. Julian winked at the others. He liked this old fel ow with his long, long memories.

„Now, you can"t cross the gypsies for long," said Ben, at last. „That"s a fact, you can"t. And one day all them Bartles disappeared and never came back home. No, not one of them.

Al that was left of the family was little lame Agnes, their sister.”

Everyone exclaimed in surprise and old Ben looked round with satisfaction. Ah, he could tell a story, he could!

„But whatever happened?" said Henry.

„Well, no one rightly knows," said Ben. „It happened in a week when the mist came swirling over the moors and blotted everything out. Nobody went up there except the Bartles, and they were safe because al they had to do was to fol ow their railway lines there and back. They went up to the quarry each day the mist was there, and worked the same as usual. Nothing stopped they Bartles from working!"

He paused and looked round at his listeners. He dropped his voice low, and all five of the children felt little shivers up their backs.

„One night somebody in the vil age saw twenty or more gypsy caravans slinking through the vil age at dead of night," said Ben. „Up on the moor they went in the thick mist.

Mebbe they followed the railway; nobody knows. And next morning, up to the quarry went the Bartles as usual, swal owed up in the mist."

He paused again. „And they never came back," he said. „No, not one of them. Never heard of again!"

„But what happened?" said George.

„Search-parties were sent out when the mist cleared," said old Ben. „But never one of the Bartles did they find, alive or dead. Never a one! And they didn"t find any gypsy caravans either. They"d all come creeping back the next night, and passed through the vil age like shadows. I reckon them gypsies set upon the Bartles in the mist that day, fought them and defeated them, and took them and threw them over the cliffs into the roaring sea!"

„How horrible!" said Anne, feeling sick.

„Don"t worrit yourself!" said the blacksmith. „It all happened a mort of time ago, and there wasn"t many that mourned them Bartles, I can tell you. Funny thing was, their weakly little sister, Agnes, she lived to be a hale old woman of ninety-six, and only died a few years ago! And to think them strong fierce brothers of hers went al together like that!"

„It"s a most interesting story, Ben," said Julian. „So Misty Moor became Mystery Moor then, did it? And nobody ever really found out what happened, so the mystery was never solved. Didn"t anyone work the railway after that, or get the sand?"

„No, not a soul," said Ben. „We was all scared, you see, and young Agnes, she said the railway and the trucks and injin could rot, for all she cared. I never dared to go near them after that. It was a long time before anyone but the gypsies set foot on Misty Moor again.

Now it"s all forgotten, the tale of the Bartles, but them gypsies stil remember, I"ve no doubt! They"ve got long memories, they have."

„Do you know why they come to Mystery Moor every so often?" asked Dick.

„No. They come and they go," said Ben. „They"ve their own queer ways. They don"t belong anywhere, them folk. What they do on the moor is their own business, and I wouldn"t want to poke my nose into it. I"d remember them old Bartles, and keep away!"

A voice came from inside the smithy, where Jim, the blacksmith"s grandson, had been shoeing the horses. „Grandad! You stop jabbering away there, and let the children come and talk to me! I"ve shod nearly all the horses."

Ben laughed. „You go along," he said to the children. „I know you like to be in there and see the sparks fly, and the shoes made. I"ve wasted your time, I have, telling you long-ago things. You go along into the smithy. And just you remember two things - watch out for that mist, and keep away from the gypsies on the moor!"

It was fun in the smithy, working the bel ows, seeing the fire glow, and watching the red-hot shoes being shaped. Jim was quick and clever, and it was a pleasure to watch him.

„You been hearing Grandad"s old stories?" he said. „It"s al he"s got to do now, sit there and remember, though when he wants to he can make a horse-shoe as well as I can!

There, that"s the last one. Stand stil , Sultan. That"s right!"

The five children were soon on their way back again. It was a lovely morning, and the banks and ditches they passed were bright gold with thousands of celandines.

„Al beautifully polished!" said Anne, picking two or three for her button-hole. It did look as if someone had polished the inside of each petal, for they gleamed like enamel.

„What a queer tale the old man told," said Julian. „He told it well!"

„Yes. He made me feel I don"t want to go up on the moor again!" said Anne.

„Don"t be feeble!" said George. „It al happened ages ago. Jolly interesting too. I wonder if the gypsies who are there now know the story. Maybe their great-grand-parents were the ones who set on the Bartles that misty day!"

„Well, Sniffer"s father looked sly enough to carry out a plan like that," said Henry. „What about us having a shot at following the way they went, and seeing if we can make out the patrins that Sniffer told George he would leave?"

„Good idea," said Julian. „We"ll go this afternoon. I say, what"s the time? I should think it must be half-past dinner-time!"

They looked at their watches. „Yes, we"re late, but we always are when we get back from the blacksmith," said George. „Never mind, I bet Mrs Johnson wil have an extra special meal for us!"

She had! There was an enormous plate of stew for everyone, complete with carrots, onions, parsnips and turnips, and a date pudding to follow. Good old Mrs Johnson!

„You three girls must wash up for me afterwards," she said. „I"ve such a lot to do today."

„Why can"t the boys help?" said George at once.

„I"l do al the washing-up," said Anne with a sudden grin. „You four boys can go out to the stables!"

Dick gave her a good-natured shove. „You know we"ll help, even if we"re not good at it.

I"l dry. I hate those bits and pieces that float about in the washing-bowl."

„Wil it be al right if we go up on the moors this afternoon?" asked George.

„Yes, quite al right. But if you want to take your tea, you"l have to pack it yourselves," said Mrs Johnson. „I"m taking the small children out for a ride, and there"s one on the leading-rein stil , as you know."

They were ready to set off at three o"clock their tea packed and everything. The horses were caught in the field and got ready too. They set off happily.

„Now we"ll see if we are as clever as we think we are, at reading gypsy patrins!" said George. „Timmy, don"t chase every rabbit you see, or you"l be left behind!"