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Far away he thought he detected the purring noise which Thomas made to stir the duck, but no overhead beat of wings followed. Feeling a little aggrieved and imperfectly equipped, he rushed out to join Thomas.

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The minutes passed, the grey afternoon sky darkened towards twilight, but no duck came. He was a funny little wizened old man, in a shabby long green overcoat which had once been black; and he wore on his head the oldest and tallest and greenest bowler hat that ever graced a human head.

From the misty waters came the rumour of many wildfowl. Peter was a famous giver. It was so very quiet down there by the dyke that Bill began to feel eerie. This was the second warning, for of course a hornbeam is a mysterious tree.

Przeczytaj fragment w darmowej aplikacji Legimi na: Thomas, who had a sharp eye for poachers and vagabonds, did not stop to question him, but walked on as if he did not see him—which should have warned Bill that something queer was afoot.

It was rather cold, and very wet under foot, for a lot of rain had fallen in the past week, and the mere, which was usually only a sedgy pond, had now grown to a great expanse of shallow flood-water. WHEN Bill came back for long-leave that autumn half, he had before him a complicated programme of entertainment.

Next day, which was Sunday, would be devoted to wandering about with Peter, hearing from him all the appetising home news, and pouring into his greedy ears the gossip of the foreign world of school.


But they were not coming to him, and he realised what was happening. Please purchase full version of the book to continue. This seemed to Bill to be all that could be desired in the way of excitement.

Bill saw a wedge of geese high up in the air and longed to salute them.

Indeed, if Bill had not been so absorbed in his purchase, he would have noticed that there was no sign of the hornbeam either.

But Bill stopped, for he saw that the old man had a bundle egook his arm, a bundle of ancient umbrellas and odd, ragged sticks. He scrambled up the bank of the dyke and strained his eyes over the mere between the bare boughs of the thorn.

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But he said no more, for Bill had shaken it playfully at the dogs. There seemed to be redshank calling, too, which had no business there, for they should have been on the shore marshes.

On Monday morning, after a walk with the ezieci, he was to motor to London, lunch with Aunt Alice, and then, after a noble tea, return to school in time for lock-up. Thomas, the keeper, dziei he revered more than anyone else in the world, was to take him in the afternoon to try for a duck in the big marsh called Alemoor.

I bought this stick from him. Bill began his vigil in high excitement. Yes, he was certain of it—they were coming beook the direction of Thomas and the dogs. Had Bill been on his guard he would have realised that the hornbeam had no business there, and that he had never seen it before.

Our hero is a teenage boy who buys a walking stick from a beggar — a magic walking stick that allows the boy to visit many places at his command But Bill, looking out for ashplants, was heedless, and had uncovered his head before he remembered the rule. The mood of eager anticipation died away, and ebok grew rather despondent. A farthing sounded too little, so Bill proffered one of his scanty shillings. Then, as he and Thomas ambled down the lane eboook led to Alemoor, they came upon an old man sitting under a hornbeam.


You would not have said that it was the kind of stick that Bill was looking for. Nor would he accept a knobbly cane proffered by Peter. This is a free sample. Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na: He would have been bored if he had not been slightly awed.

The first shadow of a cloud appeared after luncheon, when he had changed into knickerbockers and Thomas and the dogs were waiting by the gun-room door.

He drove his new stick into the ground, and used the handle as a seat, while he rested his gun in the orthodox way in the crook of his arm.

But there it was, growing in a grassy patch by the side of the lane, and under it sat an old man. Bill had to run to catch up Thomas, who was plodding along with the dogs, now returned from their engagement. Yet Bill, as soon as he saw dziwci, felt that it was the one stick in the world for him.

Bill could not find his own proper stick. Pobierz fragment dostosowany na: It is right to take off your cap to a single magpie, or to three, or to five, dziecu never to an even number, for an even number means mischief.

As soon as they saw it they went off to bullerrbyn another urgent engagement—this time apparently with a long-distance hare—and Thomas was yelling and whistling for ten minutes before he brought them to heel. He hunted for it high and low, but it could not be found. It was quite as tall as the topper which Bill wore at school.