"Come this side," said Bill after a little, "and you'll see Caradoc. He looks like a crouching lion. Look! There he is."

They crowded over. Alight in the westering sun, grim and crowned with rocks, he seemed to guard the way into a new country. But the children's first view of the Long Mynd - the mountain which was to mean so much to them - was not so exciting. It was, as Bill had said, a long, smooth, rolling mountain without a peak like Caradoc. The slopes were bare of trees, and so suddenly did the mountain seem to grow out of the plain that it seemed as if they might lean from the windows and touch it. As they watched, the sun slipped down behind it, and a great shadow was flung across the country to the train. The slopes that had looked so smooth and inviting were now dark and mysterious as black clouds came rolling up from the south-west.

"Better get your things ready," said Bill. "Onnybrook is the next stop, and you'll be running into a storm, I'm thinking... Look at the mountain now, David, and you can see the valleys I told you about. You'll want to explore them all."

The train stopped and the guard opened the door.

"Come and count your baggage, young man, and then get under cover quick, else you'll be wet through before you start."

Bill helped them out and shook hands with them all.

Then an aged porter came along with a barrow just as the first heavy drops fell. Mrs. Morton ran for the shelter of the booking office.

"See to the luggage David," she called, "then come in here with us. We'll see if the car has come. Come on, twins! Good-bye, Mr. Ward, and good luck and thank you..."

The last bundle was on the barrow and David was checking everything methodically when there was a commotion down by the level-crossing gates.

"Stop! Stop!" a man was shouting excitedly. "Wait for me," and as he ran up the platform he banged David and sent him falling back against the loaded truck. Then he began to turn their luggage over and look at the labels.

"My parcel," he shouted. "My parcel! What have you done with it? Addressed to Thurston. Where is it?"

The porter told him there was no parcel for Thurston and the guard checked his van. But still the stranger wasn't satisfied. They must telephone to Shrewsbury, he said, and find out whether the parcel was there. While he was shouting he started to turn over the Morton's luggage again.

"Please leave our luggage alone," David said stoutly. "We haven't got your parcel."

The guard waved his flag and Bill leaned from the window and saluted as the train pulled out. The rain threshed down fiercely and the old porter trundled his barrow over to the shelter of the booking office.