“Oh gosh,” he yawned, “which is which? Are there wizards and goblins? Or are we still at home? Must ask Sue about… about… oh… knights… ask Mum… don’t believe in farmers… farm—no… witches… and… things… oh…”
He began, very quietly, to snore.
On the crest of the Riddings, staring down upon the farmhouse as it lay bathed in gossamer moonlight, was a dark figure, tall and gaunt, and on its shoulder crouched an ugly bird.
CHAPTER 5
Miching Mallecho
The next day was cool and showery. The children slept late, and it was turned nine o’clock when they came down for breakfast.
I thought it best to let you have a lie in this morning, said Bess. “You looked dead-beat last neet: ay, and you’re a bit pale now. Happen you’d do better to take things easy today, and not go gallivanting over the Edge.”
“Oh, I think we’ve seen enough of the Edge for a day or two,” said Susan. “It was rather tiring.”
Breakfast was hardly over when a lorry arrived from Alderley station with the children’s bicycles and trunks, and Colin and Susan immediately set about the task of unpacking their belongings.
“What do you make of last night? asked Susan when they were alone. It doesn’t seem possible, does it?”
“That’s what I was wondering in bed: but we can’t both have imagined it. The wizard is in a mess, isn’t he? I shouldn’t like to live by myself all the time and be on guard against things like those svarts.”
“He said things worse than svarts, remember! I shouldn’t have thought anything could be worse than those clammy hands and bulging eyes, and their flat feet splashing in the mud. If it’s so, thenI’m gladI’m not a wizard!”