The Cruise of the "Scandal", and other storiesBridges, Victor
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The Cruise of the "Scandal", and other stories
Bridges, Victor
English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
"It's no good blubbering," added one of the young ones.
"Coward!" said a third scornfully.
And all the rooks who were sitting round went "Yah! Yah! Yah!"
A moment later, however, one of them gave a sudden scream of terror.
"Look out!" he cried. "The hawk! The hawk!"
They all rose into the air in a great, flapping crowd, and flew away
to their nests to shut down the covers before the hawk could reach
them. The rook who had enticed Elsie up at once hopped across to
close his own lid, but with one jump she reached the hinge before he
could touch it.
"No, you don't!" she cried. "I'm not going to be shut in your
horrid, stuffy nest."
"Let go!" he shrieked, pecking at her furiously.
But although he hurt her very much, Elsie held on. She could hear
the sound of the hawk's wings as he came nearer and nearer, and at
last, with one hoarse cry of rage, the rook abandoned his efforts and
scuttled off as fast as ever he could go.
Elsie felt so tired that she could scarcely move. She just sat down
on the side of the nest, and waited to see what would happen. There
was a loud "whirr!" of wings, and then suddenly the hawk dropped down
from above like a stone, and perched on a twig exactly opposite.
"Hullo!" he said. "What's the meaning of this?"
Elsie looked up, and found him staring at her with his bright brown
eyes.
"Oh, Mister Hawk," she said. "They asked me to come up, and now they
won't let me go. They tried to shut down the lid when they heard you
coming, but I wouldn't let them."
"I am much obliged to you," said the hawk, eyeing the trembling young
rooks with a pleasant smile. "I was feeling a bit peckish. Can I do
anything for you in return?"
"If you could take me down to the garden," said Elsie timidly, "I
should be so grateful."
"Why, of course," cried the hawk. "That's nothing."
He fluttered across, and took hold of her sash with his claws.
"I'll be back in a moment," he said to the young rooks, with a kind
of hungry laugh.
Elsie shut her eyes. She felt herself skimming through the air at a
terrific pace--there was a sudden bang--and she woke up with a start
to find herself sitting in the garden chair.
Her brother was standing in the middle of the lawn. His gun was at
his shoulder, and he was just going to take a second shot at a large
hawk, which he had missed with his first barrel.
Elsie jumped up with a wild scream.
"Stop, Jack!" she cried. "Stop!"
He was so surprised that he lowered his gun, and in another moment
the hawk was out of sight.
"Why, Elsie," he said. "What's the matter? Did I frighten you."
"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "You were just going to shoot the hawk!"
"Yes, I know I was," he said, laughing. "It's after the young rooks.
It had one in its claws just now."
"Jack!" said Elsie very solemnly. "That wasn't a young rook, that
was me."
"What on earth do you mean, Elsie?" cried her brother. "You've been
dreaming."
Elsie shook her head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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