Boys -- Juvenile fiction; England -- Juvenile fiction
When they got out, they had a run in the sunshine, which dried them much
better than towels. The field sloped gently to the right, and their
usual run was on the slope beside a nut-tree hedge towards a group of
elms. All the way there and back the sward was short and soft, almost
like that of the Downs which they could see, and dotted with bird’s-foot
lotus, over whose yellow flowers they raced. But this morning, being no
longer kept taut, after they had returned from the elms with an enormous
mushroom they had found there, they ran to the old quarry, and along the
edge above. The perpendicular sand-cliff fell to an enclosed pool
beneath, in which, on going to the very edge, they could see themselves
reflected. Some hurdles and flakes--a stronger kind of hurdle--had been
placed here that cattle might not wander over, but the cart-horses, who
rub against everything, had rubbed against them and dislodged two or
three. These had rolled down, and the rest hung half over.
While they stood still looking down over the broad waters of their New
Sea, the sun burned their shoulders, making the skin red. Away they ran
back to dress, and taking a short path across a place where the turf had
partly grown over a shallow excavation pricked their feet with thistles,
and had to limp the rest of the way to their clothes. Now, there were
no thistles on their proper racecourse down to the elms and back.
As they returned home they remembered the brook, and went down to it to
jump with the leaping-pole. But the soft ooze at the bottom let the
pole sink in, and Bevis, who of course must take the first leap, was
very near being hung up in the middle of the brook. Under his weight,
as he sprang off, the pole sank deep into the ooze, and had it been a
stiffer mud the pole would have stopped upright, when he must have
stayed on it over the water, or have been jerked off among the flags.
As it was it did let him get over, but he did not land on the firm bank,
only reaching the mud at the side, where he scrambled up by grasping the
stout stalk of a willow-herb. In future he felt with the butt of the
pole till he found a firm spot, where it was sandy, or where the matted
roots of grasses and flags had bound the mud hard. Then he flew over
well up on the grass.
Mark took his turn, and as he put the butt in the water a streak of mud
came up where a small jack fish had shot away. So they went on down the
bank leaping alternately, one carrying the towels while the other flew
over and back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account