“What happened to the trucks?” wondered Anne.

“Well, they would be easy enough to set upright again and put on the rails, and hand-pushed to Milling Green,” said Dick. “But this engine couldn’t be lifted, except by some kind of machinery. Not even a dozen men could lift it and set it on the rails!”

“The gypsies must have set on the Bartles in the mist, having first broken up the lines so that the engine would run off and overturn,” said Julian. “They may even have used the broken rails to attack them with. Anyway, they won the battle, because not one of the Bartles ever returned.”

“Some of the villagers must have gone to see what became of them and have got the trucks back on the lines and pushed them to Milling Green,” said George, trying to reconstruct the long-ago happenings in her mind. “But they couldn’t do anything about the engine.”

“That’s about it,” said Julian. “My word, what a shock for the Bartles when they saw the gypsies creeping out at them from the mist, like shadows!”

“I hope we don’t dream about this tonight,” said Anne.

They went back to the quarry. “This wouldn’t be a bad place to camp in,” said Dick. “The sand is so dry and so soft. We could make lovely beds for ourselves. We wouldn’t need the tents up, either, because the sides of the quarry shelter us beautifully from the wind.”

“Yes. Let’s camp here,” said Anne, pleased. “There are quite a lot of nice holes to store our things in.”

“What about water?” asked George. “We want to be fairly near it, don’t we? Timmy, find some water! Drink, Timmy, drink! Aren’t you thirsty! Your tongue looks as if it is, the way you are hanging it out like a flag!”

Timmy put his head on one side as George talked to him. Water? Drink? He knew what both those words meant! He ran off, sniffing the air. George watched him.

He disappeared round a bush and was away for about half a minute. When he came back George gave a pleased shout.

“He’s found some water! Look - his mouth is all wet! Timmy, where is it?”

Timmy wagged his tail vigorously, glad that George was pleased with him. He ran round the bush again and the others followed.

He led them to a little green patch and stopped. A spring bubbled up like a small fountain, dancing a little in the sunshine. The water fell from it into a little channel it had made for itself in the sand, ran away for a short distance, and then disappeared underground again.

“Thank you, Tim,” said George. “Julian, is the water all right to drink here?”

“Well I can see some that is!” said Julian, pointing to the right. “The Bartles must have put a pipe in that bank, look, and caught another spring there, a much bigger one. It’s as clear as can be. That will do fine for us!”