“Be careful how you go, Anne,” said Julian. “These sides are very steep. If you lose your footing you’ll roll right down to the bottom — and find yourself with a broken arm or leg!”

“I’ll be careful,” said Anne. “I’ll throw my basket down to the bottom, so that I can have two hands to cling to bushes with, if I want to. I shall be able to fill that basket cramful of primroses and violets!”

She flung the basket down, and it bounced all the way to the bottom of the quarry. The children climbed down to where they wanted to go — the girls to a great patch of big primroses, the boys to a place where they thought they might find stone weapons.

“Hallo!” said a voice, suddenly, from much lower down. The four stopped in surprise, and Timmy growled.

“Why — it’s you!” said George, recognising the boy they had met the day before.

“Yes. I don’t know if you know my name. It’s Martin Curton,” said the boy.

Julian told him their names too. “We’ve come to picnic here,” he said. “And to see if we can find stone weapons. What have you come for?”

“Oh — to see if I can find stone weapons too,” said the boy.

“Have you found any?” asked George.

“No. Not yet.”

“Well, you won’t find any just there,” said Dick. “Not in heather! You want to come over here, where the ground is bare and gravelly.”

Dick was trying to be friendly, to make up for the day before. Martin came over and began to scrape about with the boys. They had trowels with them, but he had only his hands.

“Isn’t it hot down here?” called Anne. “I’m going to take off my coat.”

Timmy had his head and shoulders down a rabbit-hole. He was scraping violently, sending up heaps of soil behind him in a shower.

“Don’t go near Timmy unless you want to be buried in earth!” said Dick. “Hey, Timmy — is a rabbit really worth all that hard work?”

Apparently it was, for Timmy, panting loudly, went on digging for all he was worth. A stone flew high in the air and hit Julian. He rubbed his cheek. Then he looked at the stone that lay beside him. He gave a shout. “Look at this — a jolly fine arrow-head! Thanks, Timmy, old fellow. Very good of you to go digging for me. What about a hammer-head next?”

The others came to see the stone arrow-head. Anne thought she would never have known what it was — but Julian and Dick exclaimed over it in admiration.

“Jolly good specimen,” said Dick. “See how it’s been shaped, George? To think that this was used thousands of years ago to kill the enemies of a cave-man!” Martin did not say much. He just looked at the arrow-head, which certainly was a very fine unspoilt specimen, and then turned away. Dick thought he was a queer fellow. A bit dull and boring. He wondered if they ought to ask him to their picnic. He didn’t want to in the least.