the birds and the animals there," said Lucas, picking up his curved bil -hook again, and hacking lightly at some briars. „They wouldn"t allow nobody there, and it was they who kept the gamekeepers with guns to frighten away sightseers. They wanted peace and quiet for themselves, and for al the wildlife on the island - and a fine idea too. Many a time when I was there with the other keepers - three of us there were - many a time I"ve had rabbits gambol ing over my feet, and snakes gliding by me - and the birds as tame as canaries."
„I"d love to go there," said Wilfrid, his eyes shining. „I"d have a good time with all the wild creatures! Can anyone go there now?"
„No," said Lucas, getting up. „Not a soul has lived in the old stone castle since the old man and his wife fel il and died. The place is empty. The island belongs to a great-nephew of the old couple now, but he never goes there. Just keeps a couple of men on the island to frighten off visitors - pretty fierce they are, so I"ve been told. Well, there you are, that"s the story of Whispering Island - not very pleasant - a bit grim and ugly. It belongs to the birds and the beasts now, and good luck to them!"
„Thank you for telling us the story," said Anne, and the old countryman smiled down at her, his eyes wrinkling, and his brown hand patting her cheek.
„I"l be off to my hedging and ditching again," he said, „and I"l feel the sun warm on my bare back, and hear the birds a-singing to me from the bushes. That"s happiness enough for anyone - and pity it is that more folks don"t know it!"
Chapter Seven
UP ON THE GOLF-COURSE
The children walked round the golf-course together, after talking to old Lucas. „We must keep out of the way of anyone playing," said Dick, „or we might get hit on the head with a bal ! Hey, Timmy, what are you doing in the bracken?"
Timmy came out with something in his mouth. He dropped it at George"s feet. It was a golf-ball, fairly new. George picked it up. „What do we do with this?" she said. „There"s no golfer near us. It must be a lost bal ."
„Well, all bal s lost on golf-courses should be taken in to the pro," said Julian. „By right they belong to him if found on the course."
„What"s a pro?" asked Anne.
„A professional golfer - a man who"s very very good at the game, and is in charge of a golf-course," explained Julian. „Well I"m blessed - here comes old Tim again with another bal . Timmy, we ought to hire you out to golfers who keep losing their bal s - you"d save them no end of trouble!"
Timmy was pleased to be patted and praised. He set off into the rough again at once, sniping here and there.
„Anyone would think that golf-balls smelt like rabbits or something, the way Timmy sniffs them out!" said Anne, as Timmy ran up with yet another ball. „My word, golfers must be jolly careless, losing so many bal s!"
They went on round the course, which was set with great stretches of gorse, ful of bril iant blossom. A baby rabbit fled from the bracken as Timmy nosed there for bal s. Timmy chased it, and the frightened little creature dodged this way and that, trying to escape.
„Let it go, Tim, let it go!" yelled George, but Timmy was much too excited to pay any attention.
Wilfrid suddenly bent down as the rabbit raced near him, and gave a curious low whistle.
The rabbit swerved, came straight towards him, and leapt into his arms, lying there trembling. Timmy jumped up to it at once, but George dragged him away.
„NO, Timmy. Sorry, but NO, you can"t have the little thing. Down! DOWN, I say!"
Timmy gave George a disgusted look, and pattered off into the bracken, nosing for balls again. He was very cross with George. Rabbits were meant to be chased, weren"t they?
Why did George have to spoil his fun?
George stared at Wilfrid. The rabbit was stil nestling in his arms, and he was making a curious noise to it. The tiny thing was trembling from head to tail. Everyone watched it, glad that it was safe.
Learning to Kill: Stories