Strange to say, the children dropped off to sleep almost at once. They were tired with the long walk and the bed was fairly comfortable, and Joe, who, as I have said, was always the true optimist, had comforted Sylvia by cheering remarks about everything coming out all right even if it was a beast of a house.
Joe woke out of a sound sleep with a start. It seemed to him that he had heard a loud crack somewhere. He sat up and looked about him, wondering where he was. Then he remembered the shape of the little window, through which the moonlight was now streaming brightly, just touching Sylvia’s curls as she slept peacefully beside him with the puppy curled up in a ball behind her neck. He lay down again, and was just dropping off again into a delicious sleep when he heard another crack, and this time he was out of bed with a jump, for there was a dark shadow at the window and the lattice was wide open.
“Joe!” called a whisper, “it’s me, poor old Baldry. Don’t make a sound.”
“What’s wrong,” whispered Joe, creeping to the window.
“Everything. Wake up Sylvia and tell her to come quietly.” Baldry was climbing carefully through the window. “We’ve got to get away quickly.”
Joe was a sensible boy (in some ways) and he wasted no time in questions but shook Sylvia carefully and then put his hand over her mouth and whispered to her not to speak. She rubbed her eyes and stared at Baldry. Then she became fully awake.
“Yes, Joe,” she said, not trembling very much, “I’ll be a sport.” She jumped out of bed and put on her slinkers (there were the elements of greatness as well of flirtatiousness in that child). Baldry put his arms about them so that he could whisper what he had to say.
“There’s a man that’s come in with Mother Meldrum—a giant—and they’re down below talking. And I’m pretty sure it’s Golithos.”
“Oo—er!” said Joe with a jump.
“Yes, it’s a great big man with lots of hair and whiskers and a great silly face, just as you told me. They came in through a back door somewhere, so that they wouldn’t wake me I suppose, and they sat talking and talking in a back room. So I crept up and looked through a little chink and I saw him quite plain, Joe. Horrid sight. And she got furious with him and called him a cowardly lubber and said if he didn’t do it he shouldn’t have a single bite at them.”
“What did she mean?” asked Joe.
“Well, I don’t know what she wanted him to do. But about the biting, Joe, I think she meant you and Sylvia.”
“Let’s scoot!” said Joe.
In a minute or two they had the sheets torn into long strips and knotted together, and Sylvia was tied with this handy rope under the arms and lowered gently out of the window, holding Tiger tightly to her. Joe in the meantime was going down by way of a big creeper that grew against the wall, and by which Baldry had climbed up to them. As soon as he was on the ground Baldry’s red and yellow legs shot out of the window, and in another minute he was down beside them.
“Come along,” he said, grabbing a hand of each one, and running with them into the trees, “there’s enough moonlight to find the path, I think. But in any case we’ve got to get somewhere else quick.”
“But what about Gorbo?” asked Joe, stopping suddenly. “What’ll he say when he finds we’re gone?”
“Yes, we can’t leave Gorbo behind,” cried Sylvia. “Oh, what are we to do?”
“We’ve got to go,” said Baldry. “Golithos has come after you, that’s plain. And I’m afraid I’m not much use in a fight; I’ve only got my little bladder stick. But Gorbo’s a hard little man with lots of fight in him, and he’s got his bow and arrows. He’ll be able to look after himself all right, and when he finds we’re gone he’ll chase after us, you can be sure of that. We’ll go on and hide just outside these beastly woods and wait for him to come.”
This seemed reasonable enough, and they started off again at a run. But though the moonlight was bright enough when it shone on the path there were long stretches where it was quite dark, and Baldry had often to walk ahead of the children and feel the way. They moved on slowly, sometimes running a bit but more often crawling along, always with the thought that they might at any moment hear that dreadful couple coming after them and shouting to them to stop; and it shows what a plucky girl Sylvia was that she could keep up without a murmur, even though her little heart was heavy with fear.
At last they found the moonlight giving place to the grey light of dawn, and they were filled with joy and thankfulness, for things that are terrible in the night seem almost harmless when the day comes. And, feeble though the light was yet, it enabled them to pick the path much more easily: however bright the moon shines it casts black shadows, but the light of day gets behind things.
“Do you think they will come after us?” asked Joe. With the little bit of light and the extra speed they were making he felt that the subject was at least bearable.
“No,” replied Baldry, “not yet awhile I think. Old Mother Meldrum’s too busy jawing and Golithos is too busy eating.”
“What is he eating?” asked Joe, struck with a sudden idea. “Salad?”
“No, Joe, he’d got a lot of big beef bones in his bag and he was biting hard at them while he listened to that old beast.”
“Oh, he’s killed that nice cow!” cried Sylvia. And though she had borne all the terrors so bravely she burst out crying at the fate of the patient animal that had been so friendly to them and given them milk in their sore need.