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

The two boys and Anne swerved over to Henry. She was now off her horse, and was bending over, scraping away at the heather.
‘Look, it seems like rails, or something,’ said Henry. ‘Very old and rusty. But they can’t be, surely?’
Everyone was now down on their knees, scraping sand and heather away. Julian sat back and considered.
‘Yes, it’s rails. Old ones, as you say. But what in the world were rails laid down here for?’
‘I can’t think,’ said Henry. ‘I only caught sight of them by chance, they’re so overgrown. I couldn’t believe my eyes!’
‘They must lead from somewhere to somewhere!’ said Dick. ‘Perhaps there was a quarry, or something on the moor and they ran little engines with trucks there, to fetch the sand, and take it back to town to sell.’
‘That’s about it,’ said Julian. ‘It’s very sandy here, as we noticed. Good, fine sand. Maybe there is a quarry on the moor. Well, that way, behind us goes right out on the moor, so this way must lead back to some town or village, probably Milling Green or somewhere like that.’
‘Yes. You’re right,’ said Dick. ‘In which case, if we follow the lines along, we’ll get back to civilization sooner or later!’
‘Well, seeing that we seem to be more or less lost, that would be quite a good idea!’ said Henry. She mounted her horse again and rode along the lines.
‘They’re fairly easy to see!’ she called. ‘If you ride between them, that is, because they go so straight.’
The lines ran steadily over the moor, sometimes very overgrown, and in about half an hour’s time Henry gave a cry and pointed forward. ‘Houses! I thought we’d soon come to some place!’
‘It is Milling Green!’ said Julian, as the rails came to a sudden end, and they rode out into a small cart-road.
‘Well, we haven’t far to go now, to get to the stables,’ said Henry, pleased. ‘I say, wouldn’t it be fun to follow those lines all across the moor and see where they really lead to?’
‘Yes. We might do that one day,’ said Julian. ‘Gosh, it’s getting late. I wonder how old George has been getting on today!’
They walked quickly along to the stables, thinking of George. Would she have retired to bed? Would she still be cross, or worse still, hurt and grieved? It was anybody’s guess!

Chapter Seven

GEORGE, SNIFFER AND LIZ

George had had quite an interesting day. First she had gone down to help Captain Johnson do Clip’s leg again and bandage it up. The little skewbald stood very patiently, and George felt a sudden liking for the ugly little creature.
‘Thanks, George,’ said Captain Johnson, who, to her relief, had said nothing about her not having gone riding with the others. ‘Now would you like to come and put jumps up for the youngsters? They’re longing to do some more jumping.’
George found that it was quite amusing to teach the younger ones how to jump. They were so very very proud of themselves when they went over even a foot-high jump on their little ponies.
After that Sniffer arrived, accompanied by a peculiar little mongrel called Liz. Liz was a bit of a spaniel, a bit of a poodle, and odd bits of something else - and looked rather like a small, walking hearth-rug of black curly fur.
Timmy was amazed to see this walking mat, and sat and watched Liz sniffing here and there for some time, before he came to the conclusion that it really was some kind of dog. He gave a sharp little bark to see what this comical creature would do when she heard it.
Liz took no notice at all. She had unearthed a small bone, which smelt extremely interesting. Timmy considered that all bones within the radius of at least a mile, belonged to him and him alone. So he ran over to Liz at once and gave a small, warning growl.
Liz immediately dropped the bone humbly at his feet, then sat up on her hind-legs and begged. Timmy eyed her in astonishment. Then Liz stood up on her hindlegs and walked daintily all round Timmy and back again.
Timmy was astounded. He had never seen a dog do that before. Could this hearthrug affair be a dog after all?
Liz saw that Timmy was really impressed, and went on with yet another trick she had learnt during the time she had been with the circus.
She turned head-over-heels, yapping all the time. Timmy retreated a few steps into the bushes. This was going too far! What was this animal doing? Trying to stand on its head?
Liz went on turning head-over-heels very rapidly and ended up almost on Timmy’s front paws. He had now backed into the bush as far as he could.
Liz remained on her back, paws in air, tongue hanging out, panting. She gave a very small, beseeching whine.
Timmy bent his head down and sniffed at her paws. Behind him his tail began to move a little, yes, it had a wag in it! He sniffed again. Liz leapt on to her four feet and pranced all round Timmy, yapping as if to say ‘Come on and play! Do come!’
And then suddenly Timmy fell upon the absurd little creature and pretended to worry it. Liz gave a delighted volley of yaps and rolled over and over. They had a marvellous game, and when it was all over, Timmy sank down panting for breath, in a sunny corner of the yard and Liz settled herself between his front paws, as if she had known him all her life!
When George came out of the stable with Sniffer, she could hardly believe her eyes. ‘What’s that Timmy’s got between his paws?’ she said. ‘It’s surely not a dog!’
‘It’s Liz,’ said Sniffer. ‘She can get round any dog there is, Master George! Liz! You’re a monkey, aren’t you! Walk, then, walk!’
Liz left Timmy and ran over to Sniffer, walking daintily on her hind legs. George laughed. ‘What a funny little creature, like a bit cut out of a furry hearthrug!’
‘She’s clever,’ said Sniffer and patted Liz. ‘Well, Master George, when can I have Clip, do yon think? My father has gone off with the other caravans and he’s left me with ours. So it doesn’t matter whether it’s today or tomorrow, or even the next day.’
‘Well, it won’t be today, that’s certain,’ said George, pleased that Sniffer called her Master George not Miss. ‘It might perhaps be tomorrow. Haven’t you got a hanky, Sniffer? I never on my life heard anyone sniff as often as you do.’
Sniffer rubbed his sleeve across his nose. ‘I never had no hanky,’ he said. ‘But I’ve got my sleeve, see?’
‘I think you’re quite disgusting,’ said George. ‘I’m going to give you one of my own hankies, and you’re to use it. You’re not to keep sniffing like that.’
‘Didn’t know I did,’ said Sniffer, half sulkily. ‘What’s it matter, anyway?’
But George had gone indoors and up the stairs. She chose a large hanky, in red and white stripes. That would do nicely for Sniffer! She took it down to him. He looked at it in surprise.
‘That’s a scarf for my neck!’ he said.
‘No, it isn’t. It’s a hanky for your nose,’ said George. ‘Haven’t you a pocket to put it in? That’s right. Now, use it instead of sniffing, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Where are the others?’ asked Sniffer, putting the hanky carefully into his pocket, almost as if it were made of glass.
‘Gone riding,’ said George, shortly.
‘They said they would come and see my caravan,’ said Sniffer. ‘They said so!’
‘Well, they won’t be able to today,’ said George. ‘They’ll be back too late, I expect. I’ll come and see it, though. There’s nobody in it, is there?’
George was not keen on meeting Sniffer’s father or any other of his relations! He shook his head. ‘No, it’s empty. My father’s gone, I told you, and my aunt and my grandma too.’