Here Comes a Chopper Read Free Page B

employed at some big house at the foot of the hill. Apart from this house, which is miles from the nearestbus route and even more miles from a station, we are completely marooned. The best way, they say, is to keep on over the common until we see the spire of a church. We’re to keep the spire on our right—that’s if they know right from left, which I somewhat doubt—and in the end we shall come to the railway station. They say it’s a very long way, but I think we’ll have to try it, unless we go back by the way we’ve come. It might be the better plan, of course.’
    ‘I’d hate that. I hate going back.’
    ‘Good. So do I. Where’s the map?’
    They studied it closely, Roger pointing out landmarks with the aid of a stem of long grass.
    ‘Here we are, I suppose,’ said he. ‘This is the pub, and this is our track, and that’s where we gathered the violets. These contours must be that steep slope—you know, where we saw the cowslips—and this place here is the farm. Now where’s this church they mentioned? Here we are. We’re to keep it on our right, and—where’s the station? Oh, yes. It does seem a good long way. I make it——’ He measured.
    ‘Seven miles,’ said Dorothy, watching.
    ‘A conservative estimate, and only as the crow flies, at that. I’d say a lot nearer ten!’
    ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. Come along.’
    ‘Yes, we’d better get a move on.’ He put away the map and hauled her up. ‘How would you like to borrow my ashplant for a bit?’
    ‘Not at all, thank you. I’m very much happier without it.’
    ‘Just as you like. Hullo!’
    There was the sound of hoofs again, and this time the boy they had previously seen went by like a Cyclops, his horse, on a loose rein, thundering. Of the man and the red-haired woman there was no sign. The boy did not pass very close. He galloped away across the common in the direction they intended to take, but, a hazel wood opening to leave a broad avenue of turf, he turned his horse towards it, and was soon out of sight and out of hearing.
    Roger and Dorothy stepped out briskly in his wake, and, pausing only to look at a rabbit which was sunning itself in the clearing—for the early evening had turned mellow—they took the broad path through the hazels and climbed rapidly up the slope to the top of the hill.
    ‘We shan’t be long now,’ said Dorothy. Roger, shifting the rucksack upon his shoulders, glanced at her but said nothing. ‘Well, do you think so?’ she asked.
    ‘I think we shall have had enough of it by the time we get to that station,’ he replied.

Chapter Two
    ‘Call for the best the house may ring,
    Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,
    And drink apace, while breath you have;
    You’ll find but cold drink in the grave:
    Plover, partridge, for your dinner,
    And a capon for the sinner….
    Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,
    And I shall smile, though under ground.’
    J OHN F LETCHER ,
The Dead Host’s Welcome
(possibly Shirley or Massinger)
    FROM THE TOP of the hill they could see the spire of the church. Obedient to the counsel of the women, they kept it resolutely on their right, and walked for some time on level turf, for the top of the hill proved to be a grassy plateau with a very fine view to the south.
    Woods then bordered the track which they were following, and the sun, which had come out only at the approach of evening, slanted through the trees in a red-gold glow. Roger discovered that hewas holding Dorothy’s hand, but, having made the discovery, he kept it to himself, and they walked on, having the church in view, until the woods ended on a common and the track petered out on to grass and was discoverable only as rabbit-runs among the low-growing gorse. In trying to pick it out again, they came upon a burnt-out car.
    ‘A relic of the war,’ said Roger, inspecting it. ‘The army had all this land, I believe. I suppose they used this car for target practice. Seem to be taking it to bits