Eva Ibbotson - The Dragonfly Pool

As they ran down the hill Karil stopped for a moment and bent down to pick up something from the path. Not a valuable stone or a rare plant… just an ordinary pebble of Berganian quartz.

“Is it to remind you?” asked Tally.

“I shan’t need reminding,” said Karil.

It was not until they were back in the bus and had been driving for several kilometers that Barney spoke.

“How is it you never mentioned the Berganian mountain cat to us all the time we were there? Or before we went? And how come it’s not mentioned anywhere in the guidebooks if it’s so famous?”

Matteo did not answer. When they were safely over the border he would explain, but to confess now that the noble and rare animal had come out of his own head would be to explain why he had invented it, and he was not ready for that. He had needed a chance to reconnoiter and what he had seen through his binoculars had relieved his mind. The road behind them had been clear; there was no sign of a black Mercedes of the kind that the Germans had brought to Bergania. He would never relax his vigilance, but so far at least there was nobody on their tail.

The buses stopped at the checkpoint and everyone scrambled out. They had expected to go all the way to Zurich in the same transport but now there was a change of plan again. The buses were required by the army in Bergania, so they would travel on in charabancs provided by the Swiss on the other side of the border post.

“So for goodness sake make sure you have all your belongings,” the teachers instructed their charges. “We can’t go back once we’re through.”

The children grabbed their bags and books and scarves and the souvenirs they had bought in the market and made their way to the customs shed. It was a small building, not accustomed to receiving hordes of people, and the officials manning the three gates looked startled at the mass of children rushing in.

This was the last chance that all the different groups would have to say good-bye properly; after that they would be driven to different destinations: some to trains going west or north, some to bus stations for the journey south.

And it was the last chance for the children who had danced the prince down from the hill to give their help.

The first-class passengers were allowed through straightaway, and Countess Frederica marched off with her ramrod back and got on to the waiting bus. Then came the folk dancers.

The Deldertonians were by Gate 2. Magda and Matteo stood in front, the rest bunched behind them. Matteo showed his group passport. The official counted the children.

“It says here, four boys and four girls. You only have three boys,” he said in his strong Swiss German dialect.

Magda looked around. There were black rings under her eyes from thinking about Schopenhauer in the night and she blinked at the customs official like a troubled owl.

“Oh dear,” she said. “We have lost a boy. Tally, see if you can find him.”

Tally came back with Barney and Karil.

“Here they are,” she said.

“That is two boys,” said the customs official. “Which one is with you?”

Magda pointed to Karil. “This one,” she said. “Look, here is his name.” And she pointed to Tod’s name on the list.

One of the Swedish boys now came running up and took Barney’s arm.

“Hurry up, Lars,” he said in his own language. “We’re just about to go through.”

Barney went with him, but now there was a fuss at Gate 3, where there were too many Yugoslavs. Two of the boys from Italy had got into the wrong queue.

The teachers were getting rattled.

“Keep still,” they shouted. “Stand by your group.”

But the children did not stand still. Verity broke away and rushed at Lorenzo, throwing her arms around him. Two French girls came hurrying up to Tally, waving address books. A Spanish girl started to cry noisily and abandoned her group to hug a girl from Norway.

The Swedish boy who had fetched Barney away called, “Lars! Where are you, Lars? Come over here,” but “Lars” was nowhere to be seen.

The Italians now had too many children whereas the Dutch had too few, and still the children swirled about and merged and parted while the harassed customs officials counted and recounted.

The Deldertonians, by Gate 2, at least had the right number — four boys, four girls.

“All right, you can go through,” said the man in charge of the gate. He lifted the barrier and they rushed out and climbed into the nearest of the waiting charabancs.

One by one the children in the other groups gathered themselves together and passed through into Switzerland.

The customs officials wiped their brows and closed the gates. It was the end of their shift and they were going for a beer.

And at that moment a boy with long hair and desperately untidy clothes came running into the shed from the Berganian side.

“Wait!” he called. “Wait for me! Don’t close the gates. I had to go back to the bus — I left my camera.”

He held out a Brownie box camera, and the customs men glared at him.

“Who do you belong to?” they asked.

Barney, disheveled and distraught, said, “I’m British. I come from England. Look, I belong to those people over there — they’re waiting for me. Please let me through. His face puckered up; he looked as though he was going to cry.

The men muttered together. “I counted the British,” said one.

“You can’t have done.”

The men conferred. Should they call everybody back and count them again?

From the buses waiting to depart came the tooting of a horn, and now a man leaned out of the nearest one and yelled angrily.

“What do you think you’re up to, Barney?” Matteo sounded like a public schoolmaster of the sternest sort. “Get over here at once. I told you you couldn’t go back to the buses. You’re holding everybody up.”

The customs men gave up. They opened the gate.

“Yes, sir, I’m coming, sir,” called Barney and scrambled on to the bus. It was the first time he had called anybody sir and he thought it sounded rather good.

“We did it,” said Tally exultantly when they had been driving for some time, and they patted Barney on the back, because it had been his idea to get left behind and confuse the guards still further.

“Everybody did it,” said Barney.

“Yes.”

Karil was silent. He had expected to feel devastated as he left his country behind, perhaps forever, but what he felt was gratitude and wonder that all these strange children had conspired to help him.

They drove on steadily toward the clean and shining city lying beneath them in the valley. Their thoughts were with the future; no one looked back, not even Matteo, who was busy planning the next stage of their journey.

So no one noticed the black Mercedes, with smoked windows, snaking behind them down the hill.

What a good job I learned about having feasts in the dorm,” said Tally, “because this seems to be what we are having. The important thing is not to step on the sardines.”

But actually there weren’t any sardines.

There were rollmops and there were slices of Gruyère cheese and there were crunchy rolls and boxes of dates and apples — all of them bought in the market which was being held in the square down below.

They had been driven straight to the Hotel Kaiserhof, where they were to spend the night. Their travel arrangements had been disrupted by their sudden departure from Bergania, and the through train which was to take them to catch the boat at Calais did not leave till the following afternoon. Matteo had been at the British embassy arranging for their tickets and visas.