Dickie spoke in a whisper.

"What are we doin' this for, twin? I'll come with you, but I want to know why... I just woke up and knew you wanted me like we do sometimes, but it's all rather funny and peculiar."

Mary looked puzzled. "I don't quite know, Dickie. It's old Uncle Micah, and I know he's unhappy and worried, and I saw him from Peter's window upstairs. He came out quietly, but he looks awful and lonely, and I think we ought to see where he goes and help him if we can. Will you, Dickie? Let's just see where he goes."

"All right! It's adventure for us, isn't it? Bet the others will be wild. Serve them right for not waiting to show us H.Q.2 yesterday... That click we heard was that gate over there, I'm sure... Look! Mackie is waiting for us. Come on."

The white gate was the little wicket leading to a path down through some trees to a rough plank-bridge crossing a stream. They had not yet explored this path and Dickie hesitated again with his hand on the latch.

"Humphrey, or the other one, told me this leads to Black Dingle. D'you think old funny-face has gone this way? I've thought of a name for him, twin. It's Beaver. A chap at school told me that his brother said that once - a long time ago it was, I guess - all men with beards were called Beavers. Seems silly to me, but it's funny... Old Uncle Beaver we'll call him..."

"Come on," said Mary. "We'd best hurry, Dickie, else we shall lose him."

"An' what are we going to do when we find him?" asked the more practical twin. "Are we going to cheer him up and go along with him?"

"No-o-o! I don't think we'd better let him see us, but we'll just be near in case he wants us."

So they closed the gate softly and went hurrying down through the gloom of the copse to the bridge. Under the trees it was dark and cold, and they were both shivering as they crossed the chattering stream. The path turned uphill to the left and followed the water as it wound round rocks and through thickets until they found them-selves in the moonlight again.

"I think this is a short cut to the Dingle, twin," Mary said. "What I call 'our lane' is down there to the left somewhere. Let's stand and listen a moment."

But there was no sound to break the silence, and except for Macbeth, who stood panting slightly between them, they seemed alone in a phantom world of black and silver.

"Phew!" said Dickie suddenly. "It's a bit ghostly, isn't it?"

"There's something white sticking up in front there, Dickie. I've been watching it. It doesn't move. What is it?"