Five Have a Wonderful Time (7 page)

"Mr. Bufflo," began Julian politely again, "Mr. Alfredo told us to come and ask you about our caravans, which are missing, and…"

"Ask the rubber-man," said Bufflo, shortly, and slammed the door. Julian was angry. He knocked again. The window opened and Skippy, Bufflo's little wife, looked out.

"You go and ask Mr. India-rubber," she called, and shut the window with what sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

"Is this a silly trick they're playing on us?" said Dick fiercely.

"Looks like it," said Julian. "Well, we'll try the rubber-man. Come on. He's the last one we'll try, though!"

They went to the rubber-man's caravan, and rapped smartly on the door. "Who's there?" came the voice of Mr. India-rubber.

"Come out — we want to ask you something," said Julian.

"Who's there?" said the rubber-man again.

"You know jolly well who we are," said Julian raising his voice. "Our caravans have been stolen, and we want to find out who took them. If you won't give us any help, we're going to telephone the police."

The door opened and the rubber-man stood on the top of the steps, looking down at Julian. "Nobody has stolen them," he said. "Nobody at all. You go and ask the snake-man."

"If you think we're going round asking every single person in this camp, you're mistaken!" said Julian, angrily. "I don't
want
to go to the police — we wanted to be friends with you fair-folk, not enemies. This is all very silly. If the carvans
are
stolen we've no other choice but to go to the police — and I don't imagine you want them after you again! We know they were put on to you a few weeks back."

"You know too much," said the rubber-man, in a very surly voice. "Your caravans are
not
stolen. I will show you where they are."

He came lightly down the steps of his caravan and walked in front of the two boys in the half-darkness. He went across the grassy hillside, making for where the children's caravans had stood.

"Where are you taking us?" called Julian. "We know the vans are not there! Please don't act the idiot —

there's been enough of that already."

The man said nothing, but walked on. The boys and Timmy could do nothing but follow. Timmy was not happy. He kept up a continuous low growling, like far-off thunder. The rubber-man took not the slightest notice. Julian wondered idly if he didn't fear dogs because they wouldn't be able to bite rubber!

The man took them to the hedge that ran at one side of the field, beyond where the two caravans had stood.

Julian began to feel exasperated. He knew perfectly well that the two vans had been taken down to the field-gate and out into the lane—then why was this fellow leading him in the opposite direction?

The rubber-man forced his way through the hedge, and the boys followed — and there, just the other side, two big, dark shapes loomed up in the twilight — the caravans!

"Well!" said Julian, taken aback. "What
was
the idea of putting the caravans here, in the next field?"

"Us-folk and you-folk don't mix," said the man. "We don't like kids messing about. Three weeks ago we had a canary-man, with over a hundred canaries that gave a show with him — and some kids opened all the cages one night and set them loose."

"Oh," said Julian. "They'd die, of course, if they were set loose — they don't know how to look for their own food. That was bad luck. But
we
don't do things like that."

"No kids allowed with us now," said the rubber-man. "That's why we put horses into your vans, took them down to the field-gate, and up into the next field — and here they are. We thought you'd be back in the daylight and would see them."

"Well, it's nice to find you can be chatty, all of a sudden," said Julian. "Don't growl any more, Timmy. It's all right. We've found our vans!"

The rubber-man disappeared without another word. They heard him squeezing easily through the hedge.

Julian took out the key to his caravan, went up the steps and opened the door. He rummaged about and found his torch. He switched it on and shone it round. Nothing had been disturbed.

"Well — so that's that," he said. "Just a bit of spite on the part of the fair-folk, I suppose — punishing us for what those horrid kids did to the canaries. I must say it was a shame to open those cages — half the poor little creatures must have died. I don't
like
birds put in cages — but as canaries can't live in this country unless they are looked after, it's cruel to let them go loose, and starve."

"I agree with you," said Dick. They were now walking down the hillside to a gap in the hedge through which the vans must have been pulled up the hill. George and Anne would be most relieved to hear they had found the caravans!

Julian gave a whistle, and George answered it at once. "We're still here, Julian! What's happened?"

"We've got the caravans," shouted back Julian, cheerily. "They're in this field."

The girls joined them at once, most surprised to hear this news. Julian explained.

"The fair-folk really have got a hate on against children," he said. "Apparently they had a canary-man, whose show consisted of singing canaries — and some kids set all the birds loose one night — so half of them died. And now the fair-folk won't have children anywhere near them."

"I suppose the snake-man is afraid of us setting his snakes loose," said Dick, with a chuckle. "Well, thank goodness we've found the vans. I had a feeling we might have to sleep in a hay-stack tonight!"

"I wouldn't have minded that," said George. "I like haystacks."

"We'll light a fire and cook something," said Julian. "I feel hungry after all this upset."

"I don't," said Anne. "I hate feeling that the fair-folk won't be friends. It's silly of them. We're not used to that."

"Yes — but they're rather like children themselves," said Julian. "Somebody does something unkind to them, so they get sulky, and wait for a chance to hit back — and then someone set the police on them, too, don't forget — they're very touchy at the moment, I imagine."

"Well, it's a pity," said George, watching Dick light a camp-fire very efficiently. "I was looking forward to having a good time with them. Do you suppose the farmer will mind us being here?"

"Oh — I never thought of that," said Julian. "This may not be a camping field. I hope to goodness we don't have an angry farmer shouting at us tomorrow!"

"And, oh dear, we are so far away from the stream now," said Anne. "It's on the other side of the field where we were — and we do badly want water."

"We'll have to do without it tonight," said Dick, firmly. "I don't want the top of my hair taken off by Bufflo, or a rope tying up my legs, thrown by the ropeman, or a snake wriggling after me. I bet those fair-folk will be on the watch for us to fetch water. This is all very silly."

They had rather a solemn meal. Things had suddenly begun to seem rather complicated. They
couldn't
go to the police about such a silly thing — nor did they want to. But if the farmer wanted to turn them out of this field, how could they go back to their first camping-place? Nobody wanted to live in a camp surrounded by enemies!

"We'll sleep on it," said Julian, at last. "Don't worry, you girls. We'll find a way out of this problem. We are pretty good at getting out of difficulties. Never say die!"

"Woof," said Timmy, agreeing heartily. George patted him.

"That's one of
your
mottoes, isn't it, Timmy?" she said.

"And another motto of his is 'Let sleeping dogs lie'," said Dick, with a broad grin. "He hates being wakened up when he's having a nice nap, dreaming of millions of rabbits to catch!"

"Well, talking of naps, what about getting into our bunks?" said Julian, with a yawn. "We've had a good long walk today, and I'm tired. I'm going to lie in my bunk and read."

Everyone thought this a very good idea. They cleared up the supper-things, and the girls said good night to the boys. They went into the caravan with Timmy.

"I do hope this holiday isn't going to be a failure," said Anne, as she got into her bunk. George gave one of her snorts.

"A failure! You wait and see! I've a feeling it will turn out to be
super
."

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IT didn't seem as if George's feeling that the holiday was going to be 'super' was at all correct the next morning. A loud rapping came on the door of the boys' caravan before they were even awake!

Then a large red face looked in at the window, startling Julian considerably.

"Who gave you permission to camp here?" said the face, looking as black as thunder.

Julian went to the door in his pajamas. "Do you own this field?" he said, politely. "Well, we were camping in the next field, and…"

"That's let for campers and caravanners," said the man, who was dressed like a farmer. "This isn't."

"As I said, we were in the next field," repeated Julian, "and for some reason the fair-folk there didn't like us

— and when we were out they brought our caravans here! As we've no horses to take them away, we couldn't do anything else but stay!"

"Well, you
can't
stay," said the farmer. "I don't let out this field. I use it for my cows. You'll have to go today, or I'll put your caravans out into the road."

"Yes, but look here…" began Julian, and then stopped. The farmer had walked off, a determined figure in riding breeches and tweed coat. The girls opened their window and called to Julian.

"We heard what he said. Isn't he mean?
Now
what are we going to do?"

"We're going to get up and have breakfast," said Julian. "And then I'm going to give the fair-folk one more chance — they'll have to lend us two horses — the two they used yesterday to pull our vans! — and pull us back into our rightful place. Otherwise I very much fear I shall have to get help from the police!"

"Oh, dear," said Anne. "I do hate this kind of thing. We were having such a lovely time before the fair people arrived. But it seems quite impossible to get them to be friends with us."

"Quite," said Julian. "I'm not so sure
I
want to be friendly now, either. I'd rather give up this holiday altogether and go back home than have continual trouble going on round us! Dick and I will go and tackle the fair-folk after breakfast."

Breakfast was just as solemn as supper had been. Julian was rather silent. He was thinking what was best to say to the sullen folk in the next field. "You must take Timmy with you," said George, voicing the thoughts of everyone.

Julian and Dick set off with Timmy about half past eight. All the fair people were up and about, and the smoke of their fires rose up in the morning air.

Julian thought he would go and tackle the fire-eater, so the two boys went towards his caravan. The other fair people looked up, and one by one left their vans or their fires and closed round the boys. Timmy bared his teeth and growled.

"Mr. Alfredo," began Julian, "the farmer is turning us out of that field. We must come back here. We want you to lend us two horses for our vans."

A ripple of laughter spread through the listening people. Mr. Alfredo answered politely, with a large smile on his face. "What a pity! We don't hire out our horses!"

"I don't want to hire them from you," said Julian, patiently. "It's up to you to let us have them to bring back our vans. Otherwise — well, I shall
have
to go and ask the police for help. Those caravans don't belong to us, you know."

There was an angry murmur from the listening crowd. Timmy growled more loudly. One or two of the fair-folk stepped back hurriedly when they heard him.

CRACK! Julian turned quickly. The fair people ran back, and the two boys found that they were facing Bufflo, who, with a large and unpleasant grin on his face, was swinging his whip in his hand.

CRACK! Julian jumped violently, for a few hairs from the top of his head were suddenly whisked off into the air — the end of the lash had neatly cut them away!

The crowd laughed loudly. Timmy bared his white teeth, and snarled.

Dick put his hand down on the dog's collar. "Do that again and I shan't be able to hold the dog!" he called, warningly.

Julian stood there, at a loss to know what to do next. He couldn't
bear
turning tail and going off to the accompaniment of jeers and howls. He was so full of rage that he couldn't say a word.

And then something happened. Something so utterly unexpected that nobody did anything at all except let it happen!

A boyish figure came running up the grassy hillside—someone very like George, with short curly hair and a very freckled face — someone dressed, however, in a short grey skirt, and not in shorts, like George.

She came racing up, yelling at the top of her voice. "Dick! DICK! Hey, DICK!"

Dick turned and stared in amazement.

"Why — it's Jo! JO! The gypsy girl who once got mixed up with us in an adventure! Julian, it's Jo!"

There was no doubt about it at all. It
was
Jo! She came tearing up, her face glowing with the utmost delight and flung herself excitedly on Dick. She had always liked him best.

"Dick! I didn't know
you
were here! Julian! Are the others here too? Oh, Timmy, dear old Timmy! Dick, are you camping here? Oh, this is really too marvellous to be true!"

Jo seemed to be about to fling herself on Dick again, and he fended her off. "Jo! Where in the world have you come from?"

"Well, you see," said Jo, "I've got school holidays like you — and I thought I'd go and visit you at Kirrin Cottage. So I did. But you had all gone away together. That was yesterday."

"Go on," said Dick, as Jo stopped, out of breath.

"Well, I didn't want to go back home again straight away," said Jo. "So I thought I'd pay a visit to my uncle

— he's my mother's brother — and I knew he was camping here so I hitch-hiked all the way yesterday, and came late last night."

"Well, I'm blessed," said Julian. "And who is your uncle, may I ask?"

"Oh Alfredo — the Fire-Eater," was Jo's astonishing reply. "Didn't you know? Oh, Dick! Oh, Julian! Can I stay here while you're here? Do, DO say I can! You haven't forgotten me, have you?"