Kitty Trenire Part 24

"I suppose even poetry must be about something," said Dan sarcastically.

"I don't think so," said Anna. She, the prize-winner of her cla.s.s, was not going to be snubbed by her cousins. "As long as the words rhyme, it doesn't matter what the rest is like."

To Kitty that seemed neither the time nor the place to argue with Anna, so she let the subject drop. "Now then, Betty."

"I know so many," said Betty very anxiously, "that they seem to be all jumbled up in my head, and I can't get one quite right. Let me see now--"

"Do let me say mine while you are finking. Shall I?" pleaded Tony eagerly.

"Little Robin Redbreast Perched upon a tree, Up went p.u.s.s.y Cat And down went he.'"

By the time he reached the end of the second verse he was almost breathless. "I was afraid you would say it before me," he gasped as he concluded the last line; "that's why I hurried so."

"Oh, I was trying to think of something much more--more, well, not so babyish; more like what Kitty said than what you and Dan said."

"Perhaps you had better compose something yourself," said Dan, "and we will go on and light the fire and get the dinner ready while you are about it."

"You needn't be in a bad temper," retorted Betty severely, "even if you couldn't make the donkey go." And Dan thought perhaps it might be wiser not to torment his younger sister any more.

CHAPTER XV.

MISSING!

They all struggled to their feet after that, collected their baskets, and resumed their climb, over big boulders, through furze and bracken, dead now and withered, but beautiful in the glow of the clear wintry suns.h.i.+ne, until at last they came to an immense flat rock, with another rising high behind it, sheltering them from the wind and catching every gleam of suns.h.i.+ne that possibly could be caught.

Here they spread their cloth, laying large pebbles on the corners of it to keep it down, and on it they spread their feast, and then at last there was nothing left to do but sit down and enjoy it. The sun shone quite warmly, a soft little breeze blew up from the valley, bringing with it the mingled scents of peat smoke, crushed thyme, and wet moss.

From their high perch they looked down on long stretches of brown fields ploughed in ridges, with here and there a big gray rock dropped into the middle of it, and here and there a roughly-built cottage, not much bigger, seemingly, than some of the rocks. In a distant field a man was carrying mangolds to a flock of sheep. The bleating of the sheep floated up to them through the still air, and, with the voices of the birds, made the only sounds of life that reached them. The scene, though lovely in the eyes of the children, was desolate to a degree.

Scarcely a tree marked the landscape, and those there were were bowed and stunted, leaning landwards as though running before the cold winds which blew with such force across the few miles of flat, bare country which alone lay between them and the Atlantic Ocean.

To-day, though, it was hard to believe that that sunny spot was often so bleak and storm-swept that man and beast avoided it. Anna gazed about her wonderingly, but somewhat awed.

"It seems dreadfully wild and lonely," she said, with a s.h.i.+ver.

"And how flat and ugly it is, all but these tors. I wonder how they came to be here like this. I should think the people who used to live here must have piled up all these rocks to clear them out of the fields.

They left a good many behind, though."

"No one could have lifted rocks like these, and piled them up like this," said Dan scornfully. "They were thrown up like this by an earthquake, father says, and after the earthquake the sea--you know the sea used to cover all the country as far as we can see--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Anna. "Now you are trying to take me in; but you won't make me believe such nonsense as that."

"Very well," crossly, "don't believe it then; only don't ask questions another time if you mean to turn round and sneer when a fellow tries to explain. I suppose you won't believe either that giants used to live here?"

Anna laughed even more scornfully. "No, I will not," she said loftily.

"I am not quite stupid enough to believe all the nonsense you would like to make me."

"If you could only realize it, it is you who are talking nonsense," said Dan crus.h.i.+ngly, and he turned away from her. He was not going to tell any of his beloved legends and stories for Anna to sneer at. "It is simply a sign of ignorance," he said, with his most superior air, "not to believe in things because we haven't actually seen them with our very own eyes. I suppose you will not believe that St. Michael's Mount used to be surrounded with woods where there is sea now, until a huge wave rushed in and swamped everything, right up to the foot of the Mount, and never went back again?"

"No," said Anna obstinately, "of course I shouldn't believe it.

Such things couldn't happen. It is silly to tell such stories as you Cornish people do, and expect other people to believe them."

Kitty looked at her in pained surprise. It seemed to her that Anna's way of speaking was quite irreverent. She longed to know, yet shrank from asking her, if she scorned, too, those other stories, so precious and real to Kitty, the story of King Arthur in his hidden resting-place, waiting to be roused from his long sleep; of Tristram and Iseult asleep in the little chapel beneath the sea; of--oh, a hundred others of giants and fairies, witches and spectres. But she held her peace rather than hear them scoffed at and discredited.

The suns.h.i.+ne, chased by a cloud and a fresh little breeze, disappeared.

Anna s.h.i.+vered and looked about her.

"Oh, how gloomy and lonely it all looks directly the sun goes in!" she cried. "I should hate to be here in the dark, or in a storm. Shouldn't you, Kitty? I think I should die of fright; I know I should if I were here alone."

"I'd love to be here in a storm," said Kitty firmly, "a real thunderstorm. It would be grand to watch it all from the top of the tors. I don't think I would very much mind being up here all night either. You see, there is nothing that could possibly hurt one, no wild beasts or robbers. Bad people would be afraid to come."

"I think it would be perfectly dreadful," shuddered Anna. "You would never know who was coming round the rocks, or who was hiding; and robbers could come behind you and catch you, and you wouldn't be able to see or hear them until they were right on you; and you might scream and scream with all your might and main and no one would hear you."

"If I sneered at giants, I wouldn't talk of robbers if I were you," said Dan severely. "Imagine robbers coming to a place like this!

Why, there's nothing and n.o.body to rob."

"They would come here to hide, of course, not to rob," said Anna crus.h.i.+ngly, and Dan felt rather small.

Betty and Tony began to feel bored.

"I am going to get sticks for the fire," said Betty. "Come along, Tony.

You others can come, too, if you like."

"Betty is beginning to think of her tea already," laughed Dan, but they all joined her in her search--not that there was any need to search, for dry sticks and furze bushes lay all around them in profusion.

"Oh, here's the cromlech," cried Kitty, coming suddenly on the great rock, which was poised so lightly on top of other great rocks that it would sway under the lightest touch, yet had remained unmoved by all the storms and hurricanes of the ages that had pa.s.sed over it. She ran lightly up and on to it, and stood there swaying gently, the breeze fluttering out her skirts and flus.h.i.+ng her cheeks.

"You must make a wish while you are standing on it, and then if you can make the rock move you will get your wish," explained Betty to Anna.

"It isn't every one who can. I don't suppose you could, 'cause you don't believe in things like we do."

Nevertheless Anna was bent on trying, and grew quite cross because the rock would not move for her. "No, I don't believe it," she snapped.

"You Cornish people are so suppositios; and it is _dreadfully_ ignorant to be so. Mother said so."

Dan fairly shrieked with delight; he always did when Anna or Betty used a wrong word, particularly if it was a long one.

"Though it is so early, I am going to light the fire now," said Kitty, anxious to make a diversion and prevent squabbles, "because I want to smell the smell of the burning fuz."

Which she did then and there; and then, perhaps in absent-mindedness, she put the kettle on, and it boiled before any one could believe the water was even warm, and then, of course, there was nothing to be done but make the tea and drink it. But the air up there was so wonderful that no matter how quickly the meals came the appet.i.tes were ready.

"The smell of the smoke was feast enough in itself," Kitty said.

But she did not omit to take a liberal share of more solid food as well.

And oh! how good it all tasted--the tea, the bread and b.u.t.ter, the saffron cake, all had a flavour such as they never had elsewhere, and the air was growing fresh enough to make the hot tea very acceptable and comfortable.

They did not sit long after they had done, for it really was beginning to grow chilly.

"Now you had all better go and have a game of some kind or other," said Kitty, "and I will pack the baskets ready to go into the cart, and then I'll come and play too."

It took her longer, though, than she had counted on to pack all the things so that they would travel safely, and she had put them in and taken them out again so many times that when at last she had done, and glanced up with a sigh of relief to look for the others, she saw with dismay that the short winter's day was well-nigh over. The sun had disappeared quite suddenly, leaving behind it a leaden, lowering sky, while in the distance hung a thick mist, which told of heavy rain not far off.