On Kink's return, Robert urged them on, for he had marked down on his map a spot called the Hollow, about five miles farther on, near Long Compton, which sounded exceedingly attractive as a campingground, especially to one who had read "Lavengro" and remembered the Dingle there, near Long Melton;and hither, very footsore, but still brave and happy, they came about half-past four, and made a very snug camp in it without asking anyone's leave.
It was not time for supper, and they were very glad to lie about and be lazy while the stew was slowly cooking.Robert and Janet and Mary consulted very deeply about the morrow, and at last decided that it would be best to remain there all the day and get their blisters cured with Mr.Lenox's ointment, and therefore a telegram would have to go to Mrs.Avory at once, telling her not to go to Stratford till Saturday, "and also," Robert added, "to bring my bicycle.We can easily fasten it on the roof, and it's going to be frightfully necessary often and often.This evening, for instance.
Here we are, goodness knows how far from a telegraph-office, and everyone lame except Kinky, who'll have to go."Kink, however, had luck, for he met a baker's cart on its way to Chipping Norton, and the man not only said he would take the telegram and the letter, but he agreed to bring out a number of things to eat the next day.
Feeling rested and well fed, they therefore went to bed that Thursday night much more likely to sleep than on the night before.
And, indeed, everyone did sleep well, except, once again, Robert.Whatever the reason, he was very wide awake; and at some hour in the middle of the night he crept out of his sack and walked into the open, away from the trees, intent upon comparing the magnetic north--which his compass gave him--with the true north, which anyone can find by looking at the Great Bear sprawling across the skies and getting the Pole Star from its pointers.
Having marked the difference on the glass of his compass with a spot of ink from his fountain-pen, Robert returned to the Hollow; but to his astonishment and alarm, on reaching the caravan he could not find the tent.
There was the Slowcoach right enough, with its white blinds glimmering, and he could hear Moses munching close by; but there was no tent, and apparently no Diogenes.
Robert was not a timid boy, but the lateness of the hour and the loneliness of the place and this extraordinary occurrence affected his nerves, so that he suddenly had a panic, and, running up the steps, he beat on the caravan-door as if wolves were after him.
"Hullo! hullo!" cried a gruff voice that certainly did not belong to any of the girls."What the dickens do you want?"Robert nearly fell off the steps in his surprise."Please," he said, "Iwant the Slowcoach."
For answer the door opened, and a big head and beard and a pyjama arm were pushed out.
"Slowcoach?" the head said."What Slowcoach? There's no Slowcoach here.""The Slowcoach is the name of our caravan," said Robert.
"Oh, it is? " said the head."Then it's over there.I saw it as I came in.
This is the Snail."
"Thank you very much," said Robert, who had quite recovered his composure.
"How late are you going to stay here in the morning?""I don't know," said the head, yawning vastly."It depends on the country.
I shan't go till after breakfast, anyhow.But I'm much too tired to talk now.Goodnight, Slowcoach.""Good night, Snail," said Robert.
And that is how the Avories came to know the great Hamish MacAngus; for when Robert led them round to visit him the next morning ("And it is right for us to call first," said Janet, "since we have lived here longer"), they found that the owner of the Snail was nothing less than the famous--But Imust tell you in the next chapter.
