day without feeling any effects, but one
page of writing always had the peculiar effect of exhausting their strength and spirits. As William said, ‘It’s havin’ to hold an uncomfortable pen an’ keep on
thinkin’ an’ lookin’ at paper an’ sittin’ without a change. It’s – well I’d rather be a Red Indian where there aren’t no schools.’
The notices were distributed by the Outlaws personally after dark in order the better to conceal their identity. They did not deliver notices to their own families or the friends of their
families. Their own families were apt to be suspicious and not very encouraging. The Outlaws regarded their families as stumbling blocks placed in their paths by a malicious Fate.
At last, spent and weary and ink-stained, they bade each other goodnight.
‘Well, it oughter turn out all right with all the trouble we’re takin’ over it,’ said Ginger rather bitterly. ‘I feel wore out with writin’ an’
writin’ an’ walkin’ an’ walkin’ and stickin’ things through the letter boxes. I feel sim’ly wore out.’
‘I think I’m goin’ to be sick soon,’ said Henry with a certain gentle resignation, ‘swallerin’ all that ink.’
‘Well, no one asked you to swaller ink,’ said William, whose position of responsibility was making him slightly irritable. ‘You talk ’s if we’d wanted you to swaller ink. It’s not done any good to us you swallerin’ ink. ’F you’ve been wastin’ Ginger’s ink swallerin’ it then you don’ need to
blame us. It’s not Ginger’s fault that you’ve swallered his ink, is it?’
‘Yes, an’ it is,’ said Henry. ‘It got all up his pen an’ on to my fingers an’ then I had to keep lickin’ ’em to get it off an’ that’s
wot’s made me feel sick. Well, ornery ink doesn’t do that. It’s somethin’ wrong with Ginger’s ink I should say. It—’
‘Henry!’ called an irate maternal voice through the dusk. ‘ When are you coming in? It’s hours past your bedtime.’
The Outlaws scattered hastily . . .
III
The Outlaws had decided to hold the exhibition in Farmer Jenks’ field behind the barn. Farmer Jenks was the Outlaws’ most implacable foe. He frequently chased the
Outlaws from his fields with shouts and imprecations and stones and dogs. He had once uttered the intriguing threat to William that he would ‘cut his liver out’. This had deeply
impressed the Outlaws and William had felt proud of the fame it won him. He could not resist haunting Farmer Jenks’ lands because the chase that always ensued was so much more exciting than
an ordinary chase. ‘Well, he’s not cut it out yet ,’ he used to say proudly after each escape.
But just now Farmer Jenks was away staying with a brother and Mrs Jenks was confined to bed, and the farm labourers quite wisely preferred to leave the Outlaws as far as possible to their own
devices. So the Outlaws were coming more and more to regard that field of Farmer Jenks’ as their private property.
The afternoon of the exhibition was unusually warm. The exhibition opened at two o’clock. To the stile that led from the road was attached a notice.
THIS WAY T
O WEMBLEY D
E LUCKS
and on the hole in the hedge by which spectators were to enter Farmer Jenks’ field was pinned another notice.
THIS WAY T
O WEMBL
EY DE L
UCKS.
At two thirty, which was the time advertised for the opening, a small and suspicious-looking group of four school children had gathered at the stile. William, his face and bare legs thickly
covered with boot blacking and tightly clutching an old sack across his chest, met them, frowning sternly.
‘One penny each please !’ he said aggressively. ‘An’ I’m part of the exhibition an’ I’m a native an’ come this way please an’
hurry up.’
There was a certain amount of bargaining on the part of the tallest boy who refused to give more than a halfpenny, saying that he could black himself and look in the looking glass
page of writing always had the peculiar effect of exhausting their strength and spirits. As William said, ‘It’s havin’ to hold an uncomfortable pen an’ keep on
thinkin’ an’ lookin’ at paper an’ sittin’ without a change. It’s – well I’d rather be a Red Indian where there aren’t no schools.’
The notices were distributed by the Outlaws personally after dark in order the better to conceal their identity. They did not deliver notices to their own families or the friends of their
families. Their own families were apt to be suspicious and not very encouraging. The Outlaws regarded their families as stumbling blocks placed in their paths by a malicious Fate.
At last, spent and weary and ink-stained, they bade each other goodnight.
‘Well, it oughter turn out all right with all the trouble we’re takin’ over it,’ said Ginger rather bitterly. ‘I feel wore out with writin’ an’
writin’ an’ walkin’ an’ walkin’ and stickin’ things through the letter boxes. I feel sim’ly wore out.’
‘I think I’m goin’ to be sick soon,’ said Henry with a certain gentle resignation, ‘swallerin’ all that ink.’
‘Well, no one asked you to swaller ink,’ said William, whose position of responsibility was making him slightly irritable. ‘You talk ’s if we’d wanted you to swaller ink. It’s not done any good to us you swallerin’ ink. ’F you’ve been wastin’ Ginger’s ink swallerin’ it then you don’ need to
blame us. It’s not Ginger’s fault that you’ve swallered his ink, is it?’
‘Yes, an’ it is,’ said Henry. ‘It got all up his pen an’ on to my fingers an’ then I had to keep lickin’ ’em to get it off an’ that’s
wot’s made me feel sick. Well, ornery ink doesn’t do that. It’s somethin’ wrong with Ginger’s ink I should say. It—’
‘Henry!’ called an irate maternal voice through the dusk. ‘ When are you coming in? It’s hours past your bedtime.’
The Outlaws scattered hastily . . .
III
The Outlaws had decided to hold the exhibition in Farmer Jenks’ field behind the barn. Farmer Jenks was the Outlaws’ most implacable foe. He frequently chased the
Outlaws from his fields with shouts and imprecations and stones and dogs. He had once uttered the intriguing threat to William that he would ‘cut his liver out’. This had deeply
impressed the Outlaws and William had felt proud of the fame it won him. He could not resist haunting Farmer Jenks’ lands because the chase that always ensued was so much more exciting than
an ordinary chase. ‘Well, he’s not cut it out yet ,’ he used to say proudly after each escape.
But just now Farmer Jenks was away staying with a brother and Mrs Jenks was confined to bed, and the farm labourers quite wisely preferred to leave the Outlaws as far as possible to their own
devices. So the Outlaws were coming more and more to regard that field of Farmer Jenks’ as their private property.
The afternoon of the exhibition was unusually warm. The exhibition opened at two o’clock. To the stile that led from the road was attached a notice.
THIS WAY T
O WEMBLEY D
E LUCKS
and on the hole in the hedge by which spectators were to enter Farmer Jenks’ field was pinned another notice.
THIS WAY T
O WEMBL
EY DE L
UCKS.
At two thirty, which was the time advertised for the opening, a small and suspicious-looking group of four school children had gathered at the stile. William, his face and bare legs thickly
covered with boot blacking and tightly clutching an old sack across his chest, met them, frowning sternly.
‘One penny each please !’ he said aggressively. ‘An’ I’m part of the exhibition an’ I’m a native an’ come this way please an’
hurry up.’
There was a certain amount of bargaining on the part of the tallest boy who refused to give more than a halfpenny, saying that he could black himself and look in the looking glass
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