Goblins and Ghosties by Maggie Pearson Read Free Book Online

the sea. So you stay here, my dears, and keep your old grandmother company. Cheer up! It won’t be so bad. I’ve chestnuts to roast and toffee apples and a fresh batch of gingerbread warm from the oven.’
    But, from their bedroom window, the boys could see the bonfire burning on top of the cliff, the figures dancing round it.
    When they opened the window they could hear the sound of music from the village inn, where Yann knew the landlord’s daughter, Barbara, would be waiting.
    â€˜Well, are you coming?’ said Erwan.
    â€˜Try and stop me!’ said Yann.
    Out of the window they went, one after the other, climbing down the ivy-covered wall and they set off down the path towards the lane.
    There – what a stroke of luck – stood a pony, quietly cropping the grass at the place where the path met the lane.
    â€˜ Looks like Le Pen’s pony’s got out of his paddock again,’ said Yann.
    â€˜We’ve no time to take him back now,’ said Erwan. ‘We’ll miss half the fun.’
    â€˜We’ll take him back in the morning,’ said Yann. ‘Meanwhile, he can give us a ride.’
    So up they got and off they trotted till they came to the village inn, where Barbara, the landlord’s daughter was waiting.
    â€˜Up you get!’ said Yann.
    â€˜My! We’re travelling in style tonight,’ said Barbara. ‘Isn’t this Le Pen’s pony?’
    â€˜Looks like it, doesn’t it?’ grinned Yann.
    â€˜Is there room up here for my sister Ann, too?’
    â€˜Of course there is!’
    â€˜There’s plenty of room!’
    â€˜Up you get, Annie!’
    Off they jogged again, back down the village street, until they met Pierrick and Padrig running hell for leather the other way.

    â€˜Help us!’
    â€˜Help us!’
    â€˜The widow Breck says she’ll have our guts for garters!’
    â€˜That’s if old Markale doesn’t catch us first!’
    Since Pierrick and Padrig were known as the two local jokers and Hallowe’en is also known as Mischief Night, it was clear they’d been playing some practical joke that hadn’t gone down too well.
    â€˜Up you get!’ said Yann, digging his heels in the pony’s ribs to try and make it go faster.
    On trotted the pony at the same pace as before and not a bit put out, it seemed by the number of riders on his back. No, not even when they picked up two hitchhikers on the way, which made eight in all – Yann, Erwan, Barbara, Ann, Pierrick, Padrig and after them Little Eric and Fat Paol who’d been neither of them looking forward to the climb up to the clifftop.
    Le Pen’s pony, safe in his field, was surprised to see the mirror image of himself trotting past on the road below with so many riders on his back.
    Well, rather him than me, he thought. And went back to cropping the grass.
    It was when they reached the crossroads that the trouble came. Instead of taking the path to the clifftop, the pony turned towards the sea. He picked up his pace, from a trot to a canter, then to a gallop, heading straight towards the seashore.
    â€˜Stop him!’ cried Barbara.
    â€˜I can’t!’ yelled Yann. ‘Jump, if you can!’
    â€˜We’re going too fast!’ shouted Erwan. ‘We’ll break our necks!’
    â€˜I’d jump if I could!’ cried Fat Paol, ‘But I seem to be stuck!’
    â€˜Me too!’
    â€˜Me too!’
    Into the sea ran the goblin pony, with Yann, Erwan, Barbara, Ann, Pierrick, Padrig, Little Eric and Fat Paol stuck fast to his back, deeper and deeper until the waves covered them.
    â€˜I did warn them,’ said Grandmamma, when those who’d watched from the clifftop came and told her the sad news. ‘I warned them but they didn’t listen. That’s young people nowadays. They just don’t listen. Ah, well, they do say the lost land of Lyonesse isn’t such a bad place to end up.