“I hope he’s all right tomorrow,” said Dick. “It will spoil our week-end if he’s not, no doubt about that!”

They turned away and walked through the little village of Beacons. “Now for Blue Pond Farm-house,” said Dick. “Julian didn’t give me very clear directions, I think I’ll ask someone exactly where it is.”

But they met nobody except a man driving a little cart. Dick hailed him and he pulled up his horse.

“Are we on the right road for Blue Pond Farm-house?” shouted Dick.

“Ar,” answered the man, nodding his head.

“Is it straight on - or do we take any paths or little lanes?” asked Dick, “Ar,” said the man, nodding again.

“What does he mean - “ar”?” said Dick. He raised his voice again.

“Is it this way?” and he pointed.

“Ar,” said the man again. He raised his whip and pointed up the road where the two were going, and then across to the west.

“Oh, I see - we turn to the right up there?” called Dick.

“Ar,” said the man, nodding, and drove on so suddenly that the horse almost stepped on Dick’s foot.

“Well - if we find the farm-house after all those “ars” we’ll be clever,” said Dick. “Come on!”

Chapter Five

Anne and Dick

It began to get dark very suddenly. The sun had gone, and a big black cloud slid smoothly over the sky. “It’s going to rain,” said Dick. “Blow! I thought it was going to be a lovely evening.”

“We’d better hurry,” said Anne. “I hate sheltering under a hedge in the pouring rain, with drips down my neck, and puddles round my feet!”

They hurried. They went up the road that led out of the village and then came to a turning on the right. This must be the one the man had meant. They stopped and looked down it. It seemed to be like one of the sunken lanes they had walked down in the morning, and it looked rather dark and tunnel-like now, in the twilight.

“I hope it’s right,” said Dick. “We’ll ask the very first person we meet.”

“If we do meet anyone!” said Anne, feeling that they never would in this curious deep lane. They went up it. It wound round and about and then went downhill into a very muddy bit indeed. Anne found herself sloshing about in thick mud.

“A stream or something must run across the lane here,” she said. “Ugh! The water’s got into my shoes! I’m sure we don’t go this way, Dick. The water’s quite deep farther on, I’m certain. I was up to my ankles just now.”

Dick looked about in the deepening twilight. He made out something above him in the high hedge that grew on the steep bank each side.

“Look - is that a stile?” he said, “Where’s my torch? At the bottom of my rucksack, of course! Can you get it out, Anne, to save me taking the thing off?”