So David wandered out into the sunshine, and at the back of the stackyard he heard a clear and astonishingly melodious whistle. A boy - slimmer and no taller than himself - was leaning against the rick with his arms behind his head whistling.

"Hello," said David.

The boy jumped. "Hello yourself!" he said. "Where d'you come from?"

"London," said David.

"So do I! Gosh, but I'm glad to see you. Are you living here?"

David tried to tell him, but nothing seemed to stop Tom talking. He explained that he did not think much of it up here, and although the mountains reminded him a bit of the "pictures" there was little he could do by himself.

Then the twins found them and Tom stared in amazement.

"They're not real!" he gasped.

"Oh yes we are," said Mary, "ask David."

"We know who you are," Dickie began.

"You're Mrs. Ingles's little nephew boy from London..."

"And you've come here to be a farmer away from the blitzes..."

"And you're not very much good at it yet..."

Tom glared.

"And that's enough of that from both of you." He turned to David. "Who are they?"

Rather apologetically David explained.

"We can't go very far to-day," David said to Tom, "but when we start exploring, maybe you'd like to come along."

"What about these kids?" said Tom tersely. "Do they tag along everywhere?"

"Yes," said David stoutly. "Generally they do."

"O.K. by me then. I'll get away. Uncle won't mind... At least, not much..."

For the rest of the day they really did make themselves useful. The twins ran errands and helped unpack. David did some pumping and washed up after dinner. None of them suggested that they would rather be exploring. Macbeth turned up eventually, panting heavily and with a challenging look in his eye.

After tea Mrs. Morton said casually, "What about that wood for tomorrow? You'd better all go together the first time and explore. Supper at seven."

There were two things the children loved about the country - water and a wood. Here they had both. The western side of the valley rose sharply from the banks of the stream where the larch and pine trees almost over-shadowed the moving water. Old John's description of the wood as they drove to Witchend the evening before was a good one - "Like a wedge" he had said, and so it was. Abruptly the trees stopped short at the stream, with Witchend at the point of the wedge, while higher up the mountain the wood climbed until the trees gradually thinned out amongst the heather.

David led the way. The twins followed side by side and Macbeth circled round enthusiastically. They followed the stream up the valley and paused at a wide pool.

"Come along," called David, jumping over the stream higher up, "I'm waiting for you."