you.â
Spider held out the wrapped fish. âFor Mis-ter,â he said.
The farmer smiled. In his own house his wife always referred to him as âthe Majorâ, when talking to the servants, and on the hunting field he was âMajor Yorkeâ, but he knew quite well what the farm men called him, though never to his face.
âA present?â he said.
Spider nodded.
âItâs his way of thanking you,â said Tom, âfor getting his knife out of the river.â
The farmer unwrapped the fish carving andheld it out for his wife to see. âJust look at that!â he said.
âThatâs lovely!â Mrs Yorke said.
âYou made that, Spider?â asked Mister, and he could not keep a note of incredulity from his voice.
Spider nodded.
âHeâs carved quite a few things lately,â Kathie said.
âWith that knife you fished up for him,â added Tom.
âHow glad I am that I did,â said Mister, and they all smiled, the Sparrows with pride in Spider, the Yorkes with pleasure at the realization that this poor damaged boy could make such an object. Spider smiled because the rest were smiling.
Not long afterwards, Spider was sitting on the bank of the Wylye, listening and watching and mimicking the cries of the waterfowl when he suddenly saw a movement on the far bank. The river was not wide at this point, and directly opposite Spider a willow leaned out at an angle over the water. Among the exposed roots of this tree there was a sizeable dark hole, and it was in this hole that he saw the movement.
Then he saw the round face of an otter, looking out. The animal was looking directly athim, testing the wind with upraised head, a wind which must have carried the boyâs scent. But instead of immediately disappearing back into its holt, as any other otter would have done at the sight of a human so close, it gave a short sharp whistle and came out and down to the waterâs edge. Then a second, slightly smaller otter emerged from the mouth of the holt and came to join its mate. The firstcomer, the dog otter, slipped into the river, and the bitch joined him.
Spider sat, still and silent, seeing only strings of bubbles rising to the surface as the pair hunted in partnership. Presently they both suddenly appeared, and hauled themselves out, oily-smooth, on the near bank right below him.
The dog had a big fish in his mouth, and after some noisy bickering, he and his mate settled down to eat it, taking not the slightest notice of the watcher on the bank above.
No-one would have believed Spider if he had had the power to describe the utter fearlessness of these wild animals, almost within touching distance of him, but Kathie believed him, implicitly, when he came in that evening and told her, in his limited way, what he had seen.
âHotter!â he said to her, and then he put aforefinger crossways between his teeth and made chewing faces. âFish!â he said, and then in his excitement he put together what was without doubt the longest sentence he had ever spoken in his life. âHotter!â he said again.âOne, two hotters, catch big fish, eat big fish, Spider see!â
C HAPTER S IXTEEN
A bove all things, Mister loved horses. As an infant, he had ridden before he could walk, and though he had always lived surrounded by dogs and had, since taking over the farm, a deal of pride and interest in his cattle, his sheep and his poultry, the horse was for him the most beautiful of Godâs creatures.
In the Great War he had been a cavalryman, commanding a squadron of the 17th/21st Lancers (and, as things turned out, he thanked God he had not been a foot-soldier).
He hated to part with a horse, and so, apart from Emâly and Jack, now seconded to Ephraim Stanhope in the carthorse stables, there were several others, retired from the hunting-field on account of age and loss of pace, that lived a happyretirement up on the downs. Not only did
Spider held out the wrapped fish. âFor Mis-ter,â he said.
The farmer smiled. In his own house his wife always referred to him as âthe Majorâ, when talking to the servants, and on the hunting field he was âMajor Yorkeâ, but he knew quite well what the farm men called him, though never to his face.
âA present?â he said.
Spider nodded.
âItâs his way of thanking you,â said Tom, âfor getting his knife out of the river.â
The farmer unwrapped the fish carving andheld it out for his wife to see. âJust look at that!â he said.
âThatâs lovely!â Mrs Yorke said.
âYou made that, Spider?â asked Mister, and he could not keep a note of incredulity from his voice.
Spider nodded.
âHeâs carved quite a few things lately,â Kathie said.
âWith that knife you fished up for him,â added Tom.
âHow glad I am that I did,â said Mister, and they all smiled, the Sparrows with pride in Spider, the Yorkes with pleasure at the realization that this poor damaged boy could make such an object. Spider smiled because the rest were smiling.
Not long afterwards, Spider was sitting on the bank of the Wylye, listening and watching and mimicking the cries of the waterfowl when he suddenly saw a movement on the far bank. The river was not wide at this point, and directly opposite Spider a willow leaned out at an angle over the water. Among the exposed roots of this tree there was a sizeable dark hole, and it was in this hole that he saw the movement.
Then he saw the round face of an otter, looking out. The animal was looking directly athim, testing the wind with upraised head, a wind which must have carried the boyâs scent. But instead of immediately disappearing back into its holt, as any other otter would have done at the sight of a human so close, it gave a short sharp whistle and came out and down to the waterâs edge. Then a second, slightly smaller otter emerged from the mouth of the holt and came to join its mate. The firstcomer, the dog otter, slipped into the river, and the bitch joined him.
Spider sat, still and silent, seeing only strings of bubbles rising to the surface as the pair hunted in partnership. Presently they both suddenly appeared, and hauled themselves out, oily-smooth, on the near bank right below him.
The dog had a big fish in his mouth, and after some noisy bickering, he and his mate settled down to eat it, taking not the slightest notice of the watcher on the bank above.
No-one would have believed Spider if he had had the power to describe the utter fearlessness of these wild animals, almost within touching distance of him, but Kathie believed him, implicitly, when he came in that evening and told her, in his limited way, what he had seen.
âHotter!â he said to her, and then he put aforefinger crossways between his teeth and made chewing faces. âFish!â he said, and then in his excitement he put together what was without doubt the longest sentence he had ever spoken in his life. âHotter!â he said again.âOne, two hotters, catch big fish, eat big fish, Spider see!â
C HAPTER S IXTEEN
A bove all things, Mister loved horses. As an infant, he had ridden before he could walk, and though he had always lived surrounded by dogs and had, since taking over the farm, a deal of pride and interest in his cattle, his sheep and his poultry, the horse was for him the most beautiful of Godâs creatures.
In the Great War he had been a cavalryman, commanding a squadron of the 17th/21st Lancers (and, as things turned out, he thanked God he had not been a foot-soldier).
He hated to part with a horse, and so, apart from Emâly and Jack, now seconded to Ephraim Stanhope in the carthorse stables, there were several others, retired from the hunting-field on account of age and loss of pace, that lived a happyretirement up on the downs. Not only did
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