Suddenly Mary's eyes filled with tears and she choked a little as she said:

"It's Mackie, David. Nobody's thought about him. He hasn't got a bicycle and he can't go all that way running on his legs. They're too little and stumpy. You know they are, David... Nobody thinks about him 'cept me, and now he can't go, so I can't go, so Dickie can't go, and you'd better go an' tell Mummy you're going by yourself."

And then, quite unexpectedly, she sobbed and held out her hand in the optimistic hope that her twin would have a handkerchief. He had not, so David passed over his.

David explained the dilemma as best he could to their bewildered new friends. Then Reuben laughed and said something quietly to his wife; who picked up the beginnings of a basket from the floor and went over to Mary.

"Look, little chi! Your dog shall go with you tomorrow. Tonight, while you sleep, we will finish making this, which will be his carriage, and he can ride in it on the back of your bicycle. Ail will be ready in the morning."

The twins were really awed by this generosity and for once could say little more than grateful "thank yous" before they said "Good night" as David opened the door of the caravan.

The night was clear. High up to their left towered the tapering tree tops of the Witchend wood, and over behind the darkened house rose the steep curves of the Long Mynd. The little stream, ice-cold from the bogs at the top of the mountain, chattered away at their feet, and far away a fox barked as David opened the door of the house quietly and gave the twins a gentle push up the stairs.

Then he went in to find his mother and thank her for the fun they were sure to have tomorrow.

5. Pilgrims' Progress

David shared a bedroom with Dickie at Witchend. It was a room with a long sloping floor and a little dormer window looking out over the stream to the edge of the wood. Since the very first night he had pushed his bed right under the window, so that he had seemed to be sleeping almost on the mountain itself.

On the morning after Peter's note had been brought by the gipsies, he woke early. He groped for his watch. Ten minutes past six. He slipped out of the bedclothes and leaned from the window.

Outside, the mist hung heavily in the valley and drops of moisture were falling from the eaves. The treetops rose oddly out of the grey sea, like stumpy spears, and, down below, the bulk of the caravan loomed grotesquely. Then a soft voice called: "Ah! you wake at last, then? Already I throw three pebbles and here is the fourth in my hand!"

David looked down to see Reuben laughing up at him.