Arabel and Mortimer by Joan Aiken Read Free Book Online Page B

jerked by wires. They both stared very hard at Arabel and her pet.

    "What kind of a bird is that?" asked one of them, the large pale one.
    "He's a raven," said Arabel, "and his name's Mortimer."
    "Oh!" said the pale man, losing interest. "Quite a
common
bird."
    "Mortimer's not a bit common," said Arabel, offended.
    "Well, I hope he behaves himself on this train," said the pale man, and then the two men went back to their conversation.
    Mortimer, meanwhile, looked up and saw Arabel's suitcase in the rack above his head. As soon as he saw it he wanted to get up there, too. But Arabel could not reach the rack, and Mortimer was not prepared to fly up. He disliked flying and very rarely did so if he could find somebody to lift him. He now said, "Kaark" in a loud, frustrated tone.

    "Excuse me," said Arabel very politely to the two men, "could you please put my raven up in the rack?"
    This time both men looked decidedly irritated at being interrupted.
    "Certainly not," said the large pale one.
    "Rack ain't the place for birds," said the short fat one. "No knowing
what
he might not get up to there."
    "By rights he ought to be in the guard's van," said the first. "Any more bother from you and we'll call the guard to take him away."
    They both stared hard and angrily at Arabel and Mortimer, and then began talking to each other again.
    "We'd better hire a truck in Ditchingham—Fred will be there with the supplies; he can do it—have the truck waiting at Bradpole crossroads—you carry the tranquilizers, I'll have the nets—twenty ampoules ought to be enough, and a hundred yards of netting—"
    "Don't forget the foam rubber—"
    "Nevermore," grumbled Mortimer to himself, very annoyed at not getting what he wanted the instant he wanted it.
    "Look at the sheep and the dear little lambs in that field, Mortimer," said Arabel, for the train had now left London and was running through green country. But Mortimer was not the least interested in dear little lambs. While Arabel was watching them, he very quietly and neatly hacked one of the men's bowler hats into three pieces with his huge beak and then swallowed the bits in three gulps. Neither of the men noticed what he had done. They were deep in plans.

    "
You
take care of the ostriches—mind, they kick—and
I'll
look after the zebras."
    "They kick, too."
    "Just have to be quick with the tranquilizer, that's all."
    Mortimer, coming to the conclusion that nobody was going to help him, hoisted himself up into the rack with one strong shove-off and two flaps. The men were so absorbed in their plans that they did not notice this either.
    "Here's a map of the area—the truck had better park here, by the ostrich enclosure—"

    Mortimer, up above them, suddenly did his celebrated imitation of the sound of a milk truck rattling along a cobbled street.
"Clinketty-clang, clang, clink, clanketty clank."

    Both men glanced about them in a puzzled manner.
    "Funny," said the short fat man, "could have sworn I heard a milk truck."
    "Don't be daft," said the large pale one. "How could you hear a
milk cart
in a
train
? Now—we have to think how to get rid of the watchman—"
    Mortimer now silently worked his way along the rack until he was over the men's heads. He wanted to have a look at their luggage. From one of the two flat black cases there stuck out a small thread of white down. Mortimer took a quiet pull at this. Out came a straggly piece of ostrich feather. Mortimer studied the bit of plume for a long time, sniffed at it, listened to it, and finally poked it under his wing. Presently, forgetting about it, he hung upside down from the rack, swaying to and fro with the motion of the train, and breathing deeply with pleasure.
    "Please take care, Mortimer," said Arabel softly.
    Mortimer gave her a very carefree look. Then, showing off, he let go with one claw. However, at that moment the train went over a set of switches—
kerblunk
—and Mortimer's hold