Arthur Ransome - Swallows and Amazons (Complete Series)

“Five minutes to eight,” said Peggy. “I heard them making up their minds how long it would take to get to Rio and then up to the station, and they said they must start at five minutes to, if there wasn’t to be a rush at the last minute.”

“They don’t want her to miss the train,” said Nancy. “Anyway, two minutes after they’ve gone (it’ll take us that long to get into pirate rig), we’ll row up the river like smoke, leave the boat here, climb up the way we’ll show you, and join you at the Half Way Camp. By nine we’ll be with you, bringing the rope, and then, all together, we’ll make the last dash for the peak.”

“You’ll have to go back to Beckfoot again to get your tent and things.”

“We’ll get the tent all stowed in Amazon to-morrow morning early. Then, when we’ve conquered Kanchenjunga, we can all sail down to Horseshoe Cove together.”

“Don’t forget about the race,” said Peggy.

“Oh, yes. Uncle Jim says Swallow’s going to be as good as ever, and he wants us to race to see how much Amazon can beat her by. And mother’s agreed about our going to Swallowdale, and she wants you to come to Beckfoot. She wanted you to come before, but she couldn’t ask you because of the G.A. And Mrs. Walker is coming too, and Vicky. . . .”

“Bridgie,” said Titty.

“And that’s to be as soon as ever Swallow comes back. We’ll race you right up the lake. Uncle Jim says he’ll start us. Finish at Beckfoot for the feast.”

“Right,” said John. “Fair sailing. No oars to be used.”

“Shall we give you some start?” said Roger.

“Humph!” said Captain Nancy. “If you were in my crew. . . .”

“Lucky for you, you aren’t,” said Mate Peggy.

“Look here,” said Nancy, “there really isn’t much time. We’ve got to show you the way. Don’t bother about the jug and the basket. We’ll pick them up on the way back. Let’s have that knapsack of yours, A.B., and my mate’ll carry the boy’s. You’ve had a fair day’s march already.”

“Our knapsacks were heavier when we started,” said Roger. “Full of pine-cones.”

“Whatever for?” said Peggy.

“Patterans,” said Titty. “Good ones. We laid a trail of them across the moor for finding our way back.”

“Well, you won’t want them to-morrow,” said Nancy. “When we come down from Kanchenjunga, we’ll all sail down in Amazon so there won’t be any marching.”

“Roger and I are going back over our trail,” said Titty. “That’s what we put the pine-cones for.”

“Yes,” said Roger, rather doubtfully, and then, with more firmness, “There’s no room for anyone before the mast in Amazon. I looked last year, and I’m bigger now.”

“Oughtn’t we to get some milk before we start up?” said Susan.

“We’ll get milk at Watersmeet. That’s where Peggy and I’ll have to turn back.”

They hurried along the rocky bank between the woods and the river, a little river now so noisy that it was hard to believe it was the same quiet stream that flowed under the great oak and through the meadows of the lower valley. Here there was no room for a boat, and even a small canoe would have been battered to bits among the stones. There were woods on both banks, though here and there, through the trees, the explorers saw green fields and feeding cattle. Sometimes, at bends of the river, they caught just a glimpse of the mountain they had come to climb.

“Is it true there are wild goats up there?” asked Roger.

“Not lots,” said Peggy, “but there are some.”

Nancy, who led the way at such a pace that nobody had much breath to spare, stopped at last where a stream, too wide to cross without paddling, poured down out of the woods to join the little river, which, as the Swallows now saw, flowed down the valley between Kanchenjunga and the great ridge of moorland along the top of which they had walked from Swallowdale.

“The farm’s just through these trees,” said Nancy, dumping the able-seaman’s knapsack on the ground. “Let’s have that milk-can of yours, Captain John. Come too, if you like.”

She and John hurried off with the milk-can and disappeared among the trees. They were soon back, but the milk-can was only a quarter full.

“They haven’t milked yet,” said Nancy. “I was a galoot not to think of it. But there’s enough for some tea, and they’ll fill the can for you as soon as the cows come in. You’ll have to wait here. Anyway, there wouldn’t be time for us to come right up to the place where you’ll sleep. But you can’t miss it. Follow the beck right up till you come out of the trees and you’ll find yourself in a gorge half-way up the mountain. That’s the place. There’s a path, of course, but naturally you wouldn’t use it. You can get up by following the beck. We’ll be with you at nine o’clock to-morrow morning, with the rope. Come on, Peggy. Right about turn. We’ve got to stir our stumps and then row fit to bust the oars. Come on. Back to best frocks and ‘Casabianca’! To-morrow Kanchenjunga and the roof of the world!”

“Won’t you have some tea, too?” asked Susan.

“No time.” Peggy was wriggling out of the straps of the boy’s knapsack. “So long, Swallows,” she said, and hurried after Nancy, who was already on her way back down the valley to the place where they had left the Beckfoot war canoe. For a few moments the Swallows watched the two red knitted caps bobbing up, now here, now there, along the rocky wooded bank until they were hidden by a bend in the river.

“What time is it?” asked Susan.

John showed her his watch.

“They haven’t much time to lose,” she said.

“The rowing’s all downstream,” said John. “They ought to do it all right.”

The explorers rested where they were. The Amazons, Nancy particularly, always left them a little out of breath. When she was there, things seemed to move so fast. Now that she was gone, it was a few minutes before things settled. For these few minutes everything seemed in a whirl like the dust and bits of paper in a railway station when an express train has roared through.

But presently Roger wriggled down the rocks till he could see into a small pool of clear water in the little stream that came rushing down through the trees from somewhere high on Kanchenjunga. He wanted to know if the trout he had frightened under a stone was going to show himself again. “Don’t move, Roger,” called Titty. “There’s a dipper, bobbing . . . there. . . . Farther up. . . . On the other side. . . .” John looked at his watch and then tried to find a place where the trees did not get in the way, so that he could see the top of the mountain. “It’s not a bad thing that we’ve got to wait for the milk,” he said. “We can’t be very far from the camping-place, and it’d be a pity to get there too early.” “Hi,” called Susan, “don’t you go and tumble in, Roger. Let’s find a place for a fire, and then all hands to gather wood.”

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They had had tea. They had bathed. They had scouted through the trees to see what sort of a farmhouse it was that John had visited with Nancy. They had decided that it was more like Dixon’s farm than Swainson’s, although, as Roger pointed out, there were no geese. They had returned to the place where the waters met, where they had left their knapsacks, and were already thinking that it must be time to fetch the milk, when a small boy, not bigger than Roger, carrying a huge milk-can, came out of the trees.