Tinker could stand it no longer. He gave a forlorn howl that made Mischief jump, and fled up the garden to the house, the little monkey running swiftly behind him. He wanted to comfort Tinker. What was the matter? Poor little Mischief felt bewildered, and tried his best to catch up the sobbing Tinker. He caught him up at last, leapt to the boy’s shoulder and put his little furry arms round Tinker’s neck, making a queer comforting noise.

“Oh, Mischief,” said Tinker. “I’m glad you’re still my friend. The others won’t be now, I know. Aren’t I an idiot, Mischief? But I was only being proud of my father, I was, really!”

Mischief clung to Tinker, puzzled and upset. Tinker stopped outside the tall tower. There was a light at the top. His father must still be working there. A faint humming noise came to his ears. He wondered if it was those queer, spindly tentacles right at the very top of the tower, that made the noise. Suddenly the light at the top of the tower went out.

“Dad must have finished his work for tonight,” thought Tinker. “He’ll be coming to the house. I’d better go. He might wonder why I’m all upset. Gosh, I never heard Julian be so angry before. He sounded as if he absolutely despised me!”

He crept up the path that led to the house, and in at the garden door. Better not go and see Jenny. She might worm everything out of him, and be as disgusted with him as Julian was. She would wonder why he wasn’t camping out with them. He’d go upstairs and sleep in his own bed tonight!

“Come on, Mischief,” he said, in a mournful voice. “We’ll go to bed, and you can cuddle down with me. You’d never be mean to me, would you? You’d always be my friend.”

Mischief jabbered away, and the funny little monkey voice comforted Tinker all the time he undressed. He flung himself into bed, and Mischief lay at the bottom, on his feet. “I shall never be able to get to sleep tonight,” said Tinker, still miserable. “Never!”

But he fell asleep at once — which was a great pity, really. He might have shared in quite a bit of excitement, if he hadn’t slept so soundly! Poor Tinker!

Chapter Eleven

In the dark of the night

Julian and the others made no attempt to follow Tinker. “Let him go, the little ass!” said Julian. “Come into one of the tents and have a low pow-wow before we get undressed and go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry poor old Tinker isn’t going to camp out with us, our first night in the field,” said Anne. “I don’t think he meant to give anything away.”

“That’s no excuse, Anne,” said George. “He can be an awful little fathead at times, and he’s got to learn not to be. Let’s go to our tent. I feel quite tired. Come along, Timmy!”