Текст книги "Quest for the Faradawn"

Автор книги: Richard Ford

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

CHAPTER IX

The single spots of rain that Nab had felt before now turned into a downpour; great sheets of water seemed to be falling from the sky and the Urkku were running across the fields, each holding one of his hands and pulling him with them. The rain was beginning to seep through his bark and his hair was dripping down his back. Soon Nab saw, through the rain, a group of buildings clustered together on the near side of a gently sloping rise. He guessed that these were Urkku dwellings and that this was where they were heading. They came to a gate and, opening it, were now on a rough stone track which hurt his feet as they raced along. There were buildings now on either side and Nab could hear the heavy breathing and constant shuffling of the cows inside; occasionally one would moo loudly as they heard the clatter of the Urkku’s boots on the track. Then suddenly they rounded the comer and the front of the farm faced them; racing up to it, the men stopped in the shelter of a porch.

‘Take your boots off before we go in, Jeff; Ma will only grumble if we trail muck in. Damn rain, I’m soaked. Come on then, bring him in.’

They opened the door and Nab was met by a wall of heat and greasy cooking smells which made the air so heavy that he immediately began to gasp for breath. He was amazed to find it brighter than daylight in the room and he was forced to screw his eyes up to avoid being dazzled. Everywhere was full of a cacophony of noise; he could see two more Urkku and these two were shouting excitedly with his two captors, who were still holding an arm each. Much of the heat seemed to be coming from a great red crackling glow in one wall of the room; Nab guessed that this was fire from the description Bibbington had given him and he was both frightened and fascinated by it. Steam began to rise from his bark as it began to dry and he could see the same thing happening to the clothes of the Urkku. They were all looking at him now, eyeing him up and down and turning away to talk to one another before turning back to him. Nab felt both exposed and trapped and he looked around desperately for a way out but there was none; he felt crushed by the weight of the walls around him and the thickness of the air. The woman began to speak. ‘Get on with your dinner, Father; it’ll go cold. Come and sit down, boys, and I’ll put your supper out and then I’ll see about him. You found him in the wood, you say, and he can’t speak English; and look at his clothes and his hair. Jeff, go and wash your face and put some ointment on, you’ve got a nasty gash there, and look at his nails. He could do with a good wash. I bet he’s starving, poor little mite. Father, get me a plate and I’ll put some stew on it for him.' The two brothers let go of him; one of them went out of a door at the back of the kitchen and then upstairs and the other sat down next to his father at the long table that ran down the middle of the room. Nab stood shivering with fear in a pool of water that had come from his hair; he stayed where he had been left because there was nothing else he could do. The woman went over to the range and opened the oven door to take out the pot of stew. She put a spoonful on a plate with some potatoes and sprouts and set it down on the table next to where she had been sitting. She then walked across to Nab.

‘Watch him, Mother, you’ve seen what he did to Jeff,’ said the brother.

‘I know. He’ll be all right with me. Come along, come and have a bite to eat,’ she said, putting her hand gingerly on Nab’s arm, and trying to pull him gently towards the table.

Nab felt from her tone of voice that the woman meant him no harm and he allowed himself to be led. He was then pushed on to a chair and found himself sitting, like the rest of them, at the table. His fear was now beginning to give way to curiosity; he gathered by the way the woman was pointing to the stuff on the table and then to her mouth that he was meant to eat it. He bent down to sniff it and heard laughter coming from the Urkku. Quickly he raised his head and the woman, still laughing, bent over him and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s only a stew, ’ she said. ‘It looks like he’s never seen proper food before, Dad. Look at him. He doesn’t know what to do with it. Well, I can’t understand it, I’m sure. It’s a funny business; I don’t think he can understand a word I’m saying. After he’s had a bite to eat, I must go and get some clothes for him. He must have lost his own somewhere and put together this affair with bark; it’s clever though. Look at the way it’s threaded through with bramble briars to keep it together. ’

The woman gave Nab two implements, one in each hand, and once more pointed to the plate and his mouth. He was at a loss as to what to do with the things in his hands so he put them down where they had been before and picked up the only thing that he could recognize in any way. It was a sprout and, being green, was at least similar in colour to the leaves and plants which he was used to eating. He put it in his mouth and was surprised to find it warm but he chewed it and there was no denying that it tasted good. He smiled with satisfaction and was surprised to hear laughter once again. Slowly he picked up all the sprouts and ate them one by one. Then he turned to the mashed potato and began to scoop it up with his fingers. When he had finished he turned to the stew and picked a lump of something brown from the mixture on the plate. Again he placed it in his mouth as he had with the rest and chewed, but this tasted foul and the consistency was unlike anything he’d ever had before. He quickly spat it out to the obvious consternation of the Urkku.

‘He must eat his meat; it’ll do him good,’ said the woman and she Put a lump on a fork and, crooking her arm around the back of his neck, tried to insert the meat into his mouth. Nab clenched his teeth shut and shook his head from side to side in an attempt to escape the pungent greasy smell.

‘No, he won’t have it. Pity, it would have built him up,’ she said.

Just then the other brother, Jeff, came loudly through the door; the sight of him reminded Nab of all the terrible events of that night and he jumped up suddenly from the table and leapt back, coweringinto a corner. His chair went flying and the plate crashed on to the floor.

‘He doesn’t care for you much,’ said the father. ‘What have you done to him?’

‘I paid him back for my scratches – he won’t attack me again,’ the brother said, staring aggressively at Nab.

‘Well, sit down and eat your supper. Here!’ and the woman put a plate in front of him at the table. ‘I’d better take him upstairs and get him to bed. Father, will you phone the police and tell them what's happened. Come on, son, you and me’ll go upstairs and find you some pyjamas.’

Nab got up from his crouching position in the corner by the fire as the woman took his hand and led him towards the door through which Jeff had just come. When she opened it all Nab could see was darkness but suddenly everything was lit up again and he could see another room opposite which was lit only by the red glow of a fire. Lying stretched out in front of the fire he saw, to his utter amazement, a familiar sight. It was the dog, Sam. Nab looked again in disbelief; he was certain that he was not mistaken; he could make out, in the flickering firelight, the golden coat and long bushy tail that he had seen so often making its way across to the wood. The dog suddenly raised its head and looked up. Sam was as surprised to see the boy as Nab had been overjoyed to see him but he quickly overcame his initial shock, and, leaping up, he bounded across the room and down the three stone steps into the hall where the woman was about to lead the boy upstairs. Nab squatted down and stroked the dog whose tail was going furiously from side to side. He put his mouth against the dog’s ear and spoke quietly in the language of the wood.

‘They’ve killed Rufus. You must tell Brock what’s happened and get me away from here. Sam, it’s lovely to see you, but look, you ought not to appear too friendly, we don’t want them to think we’ve met before.’

‘Well, you two seem to get on together,’ the woman interrupted. Go and lie down, Sam, ’ and she pulled Nab to his feet before leading him slowly up the stairs. The boy watched Sam turn around and walk back to the fire. He couldn’t believe his luck and his heart began to beat faster at the glorious prospect of escape and freedom.

When they reached the top of the stairs they turned right and walked down a long narrow corridor, past three doors, and then at the end they turned right again to stand in a little landing with just one door on the left. The woman opened the door and they went into a small room with one window looking out over the farmyard. The walls were white and there was a bed along one side with a little wardrobe at the end. Along the other wall was a small dressing table and kitchen chair. The light came from a bulb with no shade that hung from the ceiling and the only break in the monotony of white was provided by the dark wooden beams that were set in the walls and the occasional picture. The room smelt musty and unused and although Nab had been pleased to escape the stifling atmosphere of the kitchen he found this room chill and damp.

The woman did something with some contraption on the floor and it began to glow red and give out a welcome heat.

‘Now take all that bark off and put these nice pyjamas on, ’ she said as if he could understand what she was saying. ‘We’ll soon have the spare room looking nice for you. Come on!’

Nab just stood looking at her. He recognized the Urkku language from the time the little girl had spoken to him by the stream last summer, but he was unable to grasp what she wanted him to do. She moved up to him and began removing his bark; he grabbed her hand as she put it to the end of one of the briars that held it together and refused to let go. He would not let her take this off him; it was a part of himself and frightened though he was he would fight to keep it. It had taken him a long time to put it all together and to treat the bark so that it remained supple and he was proud of the way it had turned out.

‘All right, keep it on,’ she said and, moving over to the windows, drew the curtains. ‘Now, here’s the bed – you want to lie down on it and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave the light on for you and come back later with a mug of cocoa to see how you are.’ She moved to the door and looked round to see him still standing where she’d put hint when they first came in the room. He was staring at her. ‘You’re a strange one and no mistake, ’ she said, and closed the door behind her as she went out.

When she had gone Nab remained where he was until he heard her footsteps recede along the corridor and down the stairs. Everything was now silent except for the battering of the rain against the window. He went over to the curtains and, pulling them aside, put his head against the glass and looked out at the night. At first he could see nothing until he discovered that by cupping his hands between the window and his eyes so as to shield the light from the room he was able to see quite clearly. Beneath him was the farmyard through which he had been brought that night; at the end of the yard facing the house was a large cowshed and to the left of that Nab could see the roofs of other cowsheds which stood on either side of the track into the farm. He tried to look over the roofs of the sheds but everything was pitch black beyond them and it was only because the yard light was on that the boy could see anything outside at all. He stood with his nose pressed against the glass for a long time; he somehow felt better looking out and his study of the cowsheds and the barns occupied his mind. Eventually he turned round and faced the rectangular room with its four white walls and wooden door. He felt an overwhelming sense of being trapped and confined; the walls seemed to bear in on him and he felt an uncontrollable panic well up inside. Out of instinct he began pacing round the room in an effort to control his pounding heart and he found that it helped to relieve him slightly. He was still pacing round the room when, four hours later, the woman opened the door to see how he was. He didn’t even stop to look up at her, his mind was so numb. She watched his monotonous pacing for a minute or two and then put the light out and closed the door. Immediately Nab flew at the door and began screaming and yelling; he couldn’t bear that total blackness. She came in again.

‘All right, all right. I’ll leave the light on. Now, stop your bawling, there’s a good lad.’ She watched him resume his circuit and then, feeling sorry for this strange boy and puzzled at his odd behaviour, closed the door once again and locked it before she went down the landing to her bedroom, where she was unable to get to sleep for a long time because of the creaking of floorboards that was coming from the spare room. Well, she thought, she had done all she could. Perhaps when the police came out tomorrow they would solve the mystery; although they hadn’t been able to tell Father anything over the phone. He had probably escaped from an institution somewhere and had to live rough for a few days. Yes, that would be it; and he couldn’t speak or understand them because he was backward. Eventually she dozed off under this train of thought while Nab still paced endlessly round and round the little room.

CHAPTER X

When Sam had left Nab at the foot of the stairs and gone back to the living room to lie down by the fire, his mind had been racing. His main thought had been that Nab must be set free somehow and as soon as possible; that very night if it could be done. But how? He would find it difficult, if not impossible, to do it on his own and besides, if he failed, those animals who were still not sure of him would have their doubts confirmed. No; he must get to Silver Wood and tell Brock and Warrigal so that they could all work out a plan together; that way, if it failed, at least he wouldn’t be solely to blame. He was amazed at the good fortune of the boy’s being captured by the Urkku from bis household, although the wood was on their land, albeit at the very edge, and as the two young masters had got older they had taken more and more to shooting, so perhaps it had been only a matter of time before they saw him. The fire felt warm on his face and stomach as he lay on the rug. He loved this time of early evening when he had the whole room to himself; when the Urkku came in he would be told to move back and lie in the cold behind the couch but until then he could bask in the full warmth of the fire and watch the flames flickering with a red glow on the walls. But tonight he would have to stir himself and go off to Silver Wood; blast the rain, he thought.

Reluctantly he got up from the hearth and went down the three stone steps to the front door, where he began to bark and scratch to be let out. The old master got up from his rocking chair in the kitchen where he’d been lighting up his pipe and, patting him on the head, opened the door, whereupon Sam dashed out into the rain.

He stopped for a second in the yard under the shelter of a wall and waited until he saw the chink of light coming from the house narrow and finally disappear as the door was shut. Then he raced off down the yard, turned left at the end to make his way along the track between the cowsheds and then, squeezing under the gate, he was out into the fields. Near Wood formed a barrier on his right and he ran along in the field, keeping to the edge of the wood so that it provided him with some shelter from the driving rain. Finally he was out of sight of the farm and when he reached the far corner of Near Wood he turned left to head across the fields to the pond. He was completely in the open now, fully exposed to the rain and to the wind which had just begun to increase in intensity and was blowing directly against him. He put his head down and willed his tired body to keep going; his coat was completely sodden with the rain and had begun to feel heavy and his paws squelched and slipped on the wet grass. Soon he found himself climbing the familiar rise and when he reached the top he saw below him the dark brackish waters of the pond looming out of the night and beyond it the tall trees of Silver Wood. He bounded down the little hill and, passing the pond on his right, headed out across the last two fields before the wood. The wind had now begun to blow the rain away and the night began to get lighter as the clouds broke up and allowed the moon to come through; looking up he could see the black clouds racing across the night sky, each one, as it passed in front of the moon, acquiring a silver border. He put his head down into the wind again and raced on under the fence that enclosed the field in front of the wood and finally through the old barbed wire fence that went around the wood itself. He stopped for a second, panting heavily, and then made for Brock’s sett under the Old Beech. When he came into sight of the earth he was surprised to see the badger outside talking to Warrigal, who was perched on one of the lowest branches of the tree. They were both looking at him as if he were expected.

‘I saw you coming across the fields and called Brock,’ said the owl gravely.

The dog flopped down panting beside Brock and looked at Warrigal. The rain had now stopped but he was too exhausted even to be bothered to shake the wet off and he was trying desperately to get his breath back. His mouth hung wide open and little drops of saliva dripped down from his tongue on to the ground; his body shook with the effort of breathing. Brock put his paw on the dog’s shoulder.

‘All right Sam, take it steady,’ he said. The dog was not getting any younger and whereas once he could have recovered from a run like this in a matter of seconds, now it took some time. ‘We know that Rufus and Nab are missing,’ Brock said. ‘I saw them go off together in the afternoon and the boy at least should have been back by now. And Warrigal tells me he heard a shot in this part of the wood and the most terrible shouting going on; I must have been in the sett. By the time he had flown over he could see nothing.’

‘A terrible commotion and I can almost be sure one of the voices I heard belonged to Nab,’ added the owl, looking down unblinkingly at Sam.

Between pants the dog told all that he knew. Neither Brock nor Warrigal interrupted him and when he had finished they remained silent, each looking down at the woodland floor.

Finally Warrigal spoke. ‘It’s worse than I thought. Rufus is dead and not only do the Urkku know about Nab, they’ve actually captured him. Well, there’s no doubt as to what to do; he must be rescued immediately – tonight. Brock. ’ he called to the badger. ‘Brock,’ he said again more loudly.

The badger was sunk in despondency. He had let everyone down; the wood, Bruin, Tara and, worst of all, Nab himself. He had been appointed as the boy’s guardian and he had failed in his task. And how would the Elflord react? What a terrible night; he wished desperately that it was all just a bad dream and he would wake up and find everything normal and Nab safely back in his rhododendron bush. Even if they managed to rescue him, the damage had been done; the Urkku knew about the boy. What would they do with him? And if he escaped, he wouldn’t be safe in Silver Wood; where could he live?

‘Brock,’ shouted Warrigal for the third time. The badger looked up slowly into the great round eyes of the owl. ‘You must not blame yourself,’ he said. ‘It was not your fault, you could do no more than you did to look after him. It was impossible for you to be with him the whole time.’ The owl leaned forward on the branch. ‘As he got older he had to have more freedom.’

Warrigal saw from the expression in the misty eyes of the badger that he was not to be consoled and that the only thing to do now was to begin to take steps at once to bring the boy back.

‘I’ll fly over and inform Wythen of what has happened and ask him to call an emergency Council Meeting so that the others know. You, Brock, go across the field and find Perryfoot; we shall need him with us. Sam, you stay here and get your breath back, you’ve earned a rest. We’ll all meet back here as soon as we can.’ He blinked slowly at them both and then, moving his brown wings gracefully, he glided quietly back into the wood.

Without looking at Sam the badger padded despondently across to the old fence and, lowering his back slightly to get under the bottom wire, walked out into the field. When he got to the middle he gave a little bark. Perryfoot never stayed in one form for more than a night and at about this time in the late evening he could well be out feeding somewhere. There was no reply. Brock moved on a bit towards the pond. This time the hare heard Brock’s call and came bounding across from a little hollow where he’d found some tasty grasses.

‘What’s up, old friend? I spotted Sam racing like a mad thing over to the wood earlier this evening and wondered. That’s why I hadn’t gone too far from the wood when you called.’

He sat squatting with his ears flat along his back and silently chewed while Brock related the events of the night to him. When he’d finished, the hare, subdued for once, made his way to the wood alongside the badger. They found Sam where he’d been left and Warrigal just flying down to land on a low branch.

‘What did Wythen say?’ asked the badger anxiously.

‘Well, he wasn’t as surprised or worried as I thought he might be. Still, he very rarely gets ruffled so it’s not always easy to tell what he’s really thinking. But the Elflord must be told, and Wythen is flying off tonight to Dark Wood as soon as he’s told the rest of the Council leaders. However, he asked me to put your mind at rest, Brock; no one else blames you and you mustn’t blame yourself. Now, enough time has been wasted already; we must get moving. You three should not walk together in case you’re seen so leave quite a bit of space between you. Perryfoot, you lead off in front and, if you spot any Urkku, just stop where you are. I’ll fly ahead and if there’s any danger, I’ll give the alarm call.’

So the animals set off with the hare in front, followed by Sam and with Brock some way behind. Ahead of them the owl flew slowly at hedge height. All four were lost in their own private thoughts; Brock felt slightly better after Warrigal’s report of what Wythen had said but now he was worried at the confirmation of the fact that the Elflord would have to be told. Sam was thinking about the part he had played that night and about what they would do when they got to the farm. The formation of a plan would be largely left to him as he was the only one with any knowledge of the layout of the house. Perryfoot’s mind was on that glorious day the previous spring when he, Brock and the boy had gone down to the stream; that had been a happy time, so different from the way they all felt now.

They were just passing the pond on their left and making their way through the gate into the next field when Brock became aware of some animal following them. As soon as he had got through the gate he suddenly turned to his right to hide behind the trunk of a large oak that stood at the side. After a few seconds he heard the sound of soft breathing and the gentle thudding of paw-steps on the ground. When he judged that they were level with the gate he suddenly sprang out and found himself, to his immense surprise, face to face with Bruin. The old badger stopped dead in his tracks and his hair bristled with shock.

‘Young’un,’ he said, ‘don’t do that again; you’ll kill me! When Wythen told me what had happened I thought you might need some help so I followed you and I’ve been trying to catch up. But you go too fast for me. Now come on, or the others will wonder where you’ve got to.’

‘You shouldn’t have come, it could be very dangerous,’ Brock said when he’d recovered from his surprise, but he couldn’t disguise the pleasure he felt at seeing his grandfather. His confidence had been severely shaken by the events of that night and he was grateful for the fact that this experienced old warrior would be with them. They set off together quickly up the slope from the gate and soon caught sight of Sam and, some way ahead, Perryfoot and Warrigal. Many of the clouds had now broken up and gone and the fields and Near Wood on their left were bathed in moonlight but there was an icy wind that blew across from the hills and seemed to get into their bones. They were now running along the side of the wood, back the way Sam had come earlier that night in the rain, and soon they caught sight of the farm buildings in the distance. Warrigal flew down and perched on the low branch of a large oak whose boughs hung over into the field and as the others came up to it they gathered round the branch and the owl addressed them.

‘We’re pleased to have you, Bruin,’ he said. 'We shall need your experience and courage.’ Technically Bruin the Brave, full member of the Council, should have assumed leadership of the expedition now that he was here but Warrigal was known for his wisdom and tactical expertise and the old badger was happy to be led by him.

‘Now, we must have a plan and we must all be clear about our part in it before we get to the farm. Sam; tell us where the boy is being kept and what you think is the best way of getting in:’

The animals huddled together with their backs to the wind while Sam explained the geography of the house to them, but he was unable to think of a way they could get into it, nor was he certain which room Nab was in. He himself was only able to go through the doors when they were opened for him by his masters; otherwise they were a solid barrier of wood. There was silence while the animals put their minds to this difficult problem; only the rustling of the few remaining leaves, brown and withered but still stubbornly hanging on, disturbed the peace of the night. Bruin suggested that they charge at the doors and break them down but Sam explained, with considerable deference, that the Urkku, although they slept at night, would be awoken by the noise that this would make, and the plan was discarded. Sam then recalled how, when he had been a puppy) he had scratched at things a lot and he remembered how when he scratched at doors his claws had made impressions on them and he had been severely scolded. Perhaps the badgers, whose claws were so much bigger and stronger than his, would be able to scratch a way through.

Warrigal looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Are there any other ideas?’ he said, leaning forward on the branch and looking quizzically at each one of them in turn. ‘Well,’ he said, when no further plans were forthcoming, ‘that is the scheme we shall adopt. But it will still create a lot of noise. We shall have to work very slowly. When we get to the farm I will fly up to Nab’s window and let him know what’s happening. Perryfoot; while the two badgers are at the door you stay at the bottom of the yard and keep a lookout. But stay out of sight; if anything goes wrong you must run back to the wood and tell Wythen. Now, is there anything anyone would like to know before we move on?’

There was silence. Now was the moment of truth. None of these animals except Sam had ever been as close to an Urkku dwelling as they were even now, let alone going still nearer and then, eventually, actually inside the building. Until now they had had no time to think of the danger; they had simply been driven by the need to rescue Nab and the entire escapade had been a vague concept in their minds. Now, suddenly, it was real. Warrigal could sense the growing fear.

‘All right then. Come on,’ he said and, moving his wings very slowly, he took off and began to fly just above the ground across the field and towards the gate. The others walked slowly in single file behind him. Warrigal waited for them at the gate and then, when they had all arrived, beckoned to Sam to take the lead and they all made their way along the rough gravel track with the cowsheds on either side of them. They walked on the middle of the track where the weeds had grown through so as not to crunch on the gravel and as they walked they heard the sounds of the cattle inside, the occasional rattling of a chain or shuffle of hooves. Suddenly a loud cough came from one of the sheds and they stopped dead in their tracks but Sam motioned that it was simply a cow and the party continued on its way. Brock’s fear was almost overcome by his fascination for all the things around him, the buildings and the farm vehicles; some bales of hay heaped in a comer and a ladder leaning against a wall up to a hay loft. Then at the end of the cowshed on their right they turned the comer into the yard and faced the front of the house. They stood in a little group looking across at the huge building; it looked like a fortress, high and impenetrable and the six windows, dark now that most of the lights in the house were out, stared out at them like great soulless eyes, daring them to enter. Once again fear gripped them and they stood rooted to the spot, huddled against the wall of the shed.

It was Sam who, understanding nothing of their fear of the house, urged them forward and took them across the yard to the great wooden front door, leaving Perryfoot behind where he could see the whole of the yard and also the track down which they had come.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Now this is the door, Brock, you start scratching here,’ and he indicated the bottom left-hand comer. ‘I hope the window of Nab’s room is up there, Warrigal,’ and as the owl silently flew up, Brock sank his sharp claws into the door and, drawing them down, left four great scratches in the wood.

Warrigal could hear the work going on below him as he hovered outside the window looking for a place to perch. He spotted the large sill and delicately dropped down on to it. He could see nothing through the window except little slivers of light that peeked out around the curtains. The icy wind blew particularly fiercely around this comer of the house; he had forgotten about it in the shelter of the yard. He turned his head round and saw Perryfoot crouching in the shelter of a doorway. Turning back to face the window he put his head on one side to listen for any sounds of danger from inside the house but all he could hear was the creaking of the floorboards in the room as Nab paced restlessly to and fro. He leant forward and gently tapped the glass with his beak twice; there was no response. He tapped again and this time the pacing stopped and he heard footsteps come towards him. He tapped again and this time there was a rustling inside as the owl saw the curtains start to move. He walked quickly along to the end of the sill from where he could see in but couldn’t be seen himself in case he had come to the wrong place; it had only been Sam’s guess that Nab would be in the spare room. Suddenly there was a flood of light as Nab succeeded in drawing the curtains apart. Warrigal saw the boy’s face with relief and walked back until he was once again in the middle of the sill. The boy was frantically looking out into the night, searching everywhere with his eyes except where the owl was perched. His face was pale and streaked where tears had traced their way down his cheeks and his eyes looked red and sore from crying. Warrigal tapped again and Nab looked suddenly down directly at him. As he saw the owl and realized who it was, his face lit up and relief shone out from it so intensely that Warrigal was afraid he might shout with joy, but all the woodland instincts that had been ingrained in him signalled extreme caution and silence and instead the boy simply put his smiling face to the glass and watched as Warrigal indicated to him that the others were down below and that they were now planning his escape. The boy was transformed; a minute ago he had been a pathetic trapped creature lost in the depths of self-pity, degraded and debased by capture. Now, with the prospect of freedom before him, he regained his dignity and self-respect and became alert and vibrant with energy.