"Blyton, Enid - Famous Five 13 - Five Go to Mystery Moor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blyton Enid)

I think it’s got a jolly good name, Mystery Moor,’ said Dick, as the four of them went along. ‘Look at it stretching for miles, all blazing with gorse.’
‘I don’t think it looks at all mysterious,’ said Henry, surprised.
‘Well, it’s got a sort of quietness and broodiness,’ said Anne. ‘As if something big happened long ago in the past and it’s waiting for something to happen again.’
‘Quiet and broody? It sounds like one of the farmyard hens sitting on her eggs!’ said Henry with a laugh. ‘I think it might be a bit frightening and mysterious at night, but it’s just an ordinary stretch of country in the day-time, fine for riding over. I can’t think why it’s called Mystery Moor.’
‘We’ll have to look it up in some book that tells about this part of the country,’ said Dick. ‘I expect it was called that because of some queer happenings or other, hundreds of years ago, when people believed in witches and things like that.’
They followed no road or path, but rode where they pleased. There were great stretches of wiry grass, masses of heather springing up afresh, and, blazing its gold everywhere on this lovely April day, was the gorse.
Anne sniffed continually as they rode past the gorse bushes. Dick looked at her.
‘You sound like Sniffer!’ he said. ‘Have you got a cold?’
Anne laughed. ‘No, of course not. But I do so love the smell of the gorse. What does it smell of? Vanilla? Hot coconut? It’s a lovely warm smell!’
‘Look! What’s that moving over there?’ said Julian, suddenly reining in his horse. They all strained their eyes to see.
‘Why, it’s caravans!’ said Julian, at last. ‘Of course! They were setting out today, weren’t they? Well, they must find it very rough going, that’s all I can say. There’s no real road anywhere, as far as I can see.’
‘Where can they be going?’ wondered Anne. ‘What’s over in that direction?’
‘They’ll come to the coast if they keep on the way they are going,’ said Julian, considering. ‘Let’s ride over and have a look at them, shall we?’
‘Yes. Good idea!’ said Dick. So they turned their horses’ heads to the right, and rode towards the faraway caravans. These made quite a splash of colour as they went along. There were four of them - two red ones, a blue one and a yellow one. They went very slowly indeed, each pulled by a small, wiry horse.
‘They all look like skewbalds, brown and white,’ said Dick. ‘It’s funny that so many gypsies have skewbald horses. I wonder why it is?’
They heard shouting as they came near the caravans, and saw one man pointing them out to another. It was Sniffer’s father!
‘Look, that’s the fellow who woke us up in the stable last night,’ said Julian to Dick. ‘Sniffer’s father! What a nasty bit of work he is! Why doesn’t he get a haircut?’
‘Good morning!’ called Dick, as they rode up to the caravans on their horses. ‘Nice day!’
There was no answer. The gypsies driving their caravans and those walking alongside, looked sourly at the four riders.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Henry. ‘To the coast?’
‘It’s naught to do with you,’ said one of the gypsies, an old man with curly grey hair.
‘Surly folk, aren’t they?’ said Dick to Julian. ‘I suppose they think we’re spying on them, or something. I wonder how they manage about food on this moor, no shops or anything. I suppose they take it all with them.’
‘I’ll ask them,’ said Henry, not at all put off by the surly looks. She rode right up to Sniffer’s father.
‘How do you manage about food, and water?’ she asked.
‘We got food there,’ said Snifler’s father, jerking his head back towards one of the caravans. ‘As for water, we know where the springs are.’
‘Are you camping on the moor for a long time?’ asked Henry, thinking that a gypsy’s life might be a fine one, for a time! Fancy living out here on this lovely moor with gorse blazing gold all around, and primroses by the thousand in the sheltered corners!
‘That’s naught to do with you!’ shouted the old man with curly grey hair. ‘You clear off and let us alone!’
‘Come on, Henry,’ said Julian, swinging round to go off. ‘They don’t like us asking them questions. They think it’s prying, not interest. Maybe they have lots of things to hide, and don’t want us poking around - one or two chickens from a farm, a duck or so from some pond. They live from hand to mouth, these folk.’
Some dark-eyed children peered from the vans as they went by. One or two were running outside, but they sheered off like frightened rabbits when Henry cantered towards them.
‘Oh well, they simply don’t want to be friendly,’ she said, and went to join the other three. ‘What a strange life they lead, in their houses on wheels! Never staying anywhere for long, always on the move. Get up, there, Sultan. Go after the others!’
Her horse obediently followed the other three, taking care not to step into any rabbit-holes! What fun it was to be out here in the sunshine, jogging up and down on a horse’s back, without a care in the world! Henry was very happy.
The other three were enjoying their day, but they were not quite so happy. They kept wondering about George. They missed Timmy too. He should be trotting beside them, enjoying the day as well!
They lost sight of the caravans after a time. Julian kept track of the way they went, half-afraid of being lost. He had a compass with him, and checked their direction continually. ‘It would never do to have to spend a night out here!’ he said. ‘Nobody would ever find us!’
They had a magnificent lunch about half-past twelve. Really, Mrs Johnson had surpassed herself! Egg and sardine sandwiches, tomato and lettuce, ham - there seemed no end to them! Great slices of cherry cake were added too, and a large, juicy pear each.
‘I like this kind of cherry cake,’ said Dick, looking at his enormous slice. ‘The cherries have all gone to the bottom. They make a very nice last mouthful!’
‘Any drinks?’ said Henry, and was handed a bottle of ginger-beer. She drank it thirstily.
‘Why does ginger-beer taste so nice on a picnic?’ she said. ‘Much nicer than drinking it sitting down in a shop, even if it’s got ice in it!’
‘There’s a spring or something nearby,’ said Julian. ‘I can hear it bubbling.’
They all listened. Yes, there was a little bubbling, tinkling noise. Anne got up to trace it. She found it in a few minutes and called the others. There was a round pool, cool and blue, lying two or three feet down, and into it, from one side, fell a crystal clear spring of water, tinkling as it fell.
‘One of the springs that the gypsies use, when they travel this deserted moor, I expect,’ said Julian. He cupped his hands under the falling water and got his palms full. He carried the water to his mouth and sipped it.
‘Delicious! Cool as an ice-box,’ he said. ‘Taste it, Anne.’
They rode a little farther, but the moor seemed the same everywhere, heather, wiry grass, gorse, a clear spring falling into a pool or tiny stream here and there, and a few trees, mostly silver birch.
Larks sang all the time, soaring high in the air, almost too far up to see.
‘Their song falls down like raindrops,’ said Anne, holding out her hands as if to catch them. Henry laughed. She liked this family, and was very glad they had asked her to come out with them. She thought George was silly to have stayed at the stables.
‘I think we ought to go home,’ said Julian at last, looking at his watch. ‘We’re a good way away. Let me see now. We want to make more or less for the setting sun. Come on!’
He led the way, his horse picking its own path over the heather. The others followed. Dick stopped after a while.
‘Are you sure we’re quite right, Ju? I don’t somehow feel that we are. The moor is different here, rather sandy and not so much gorse.’
Julian stopped his horse and looked round and about. ‘Yes, it does look a bit different,’ he said. ‘But yet we seem to be going in the right direction. Let’s go a bit more to the west. If only there was something on the horizon to guide us. But this moor hasn’t a thing that stands out anywhere!’
They went on again, and then Henry gave an exclamation. ‘I say! What’s this? Do come here.’