The Quickening of Tom Turnpike (The Talltrees Trilogy) by W. E. Mann Page B

shelters,
even a village of leafy wigwams with a strictly enforced feudal system.  But
the Burrow was by far the most ingenious. 
    It
had been set up about four weeks ago by Reggie Pickering.  He, Samson and one
or two others had begun by digging a few foxholes in a clearing among the trees
behind the Tennis Court, overlaying them with corrugated iron supported by
crow-bars and planks of wood, and replacing the earth on top.  By now it had sprawled
into a tangled complex of tunnels.  Above ground you could see nothing but its
three entry-holes where guards would be stationed during a Hut War.
    The
Burrow had excellent defences.   It was surrounded by a barricade of thorny
branches, beyond which were two tall fern-trees with crows-nest platforms.  An
attacking force would be seen from the crows-nests at least half a minute
before reaching the barricade.  Ample time for Reggie to rally his troops.
    I
had been a member of the Burrow for about two weeks.  It had cost me two Granny
Smiths and half a tube of Spangles.  Freddie had joined at the same time by
waiving Reggie’s debt of four Pontefracts.  Reggie’s tuck-box must have been
heaving.
    “Look!”
Freddie whispered to me as the three of us tramped towards the Burrow.  “What’s she doing?”
    Just
a few yards away from the path that was trodden through the Forest crouched
Miss Prenderghast, examining and pruning a small tree. 
      I
suppose there is nothing strange about a Biology teacher, and such a quiet and
lonely one, being out here by herself, tending to a plant.  But it was such an
odd looking plant, about my height with dull purple, bell-shaped flowers,
tinged green, and large, shiny black berries.  Miss Prenderghast was picking
these berries slowly and deliberately, and placing them in a leather pouch at
her side.  She didn’t notice us as we walked by.
    “ Password ?” 
We had reached the edge of the Burrow’s territory and Florian Tickle was sitting
on a branch above us, with a bow and arrow at the ready.
    “For
God’s sake, Tickle!  It’s me, Akwasi and Turnpike!” shouted Freddie
impatiently. 
    “Password?” 
Florian Tickle was exceedingly annoying.  He was in the Third Form, but in the
B-stream rather than the A-stream, so he didn’t have his lessons with us.  He
was pretty stupid and was obsessed with anything to do with the army.  Freddie
looked at me and shrugged.
    “Dragonfly,”
I sighed.
    “You
may pass,” he stated, eyeing us suspiciously and lowering his weapon.
    Freddie
stuck two fingers up at him and muttered “idiot” as we edged through a gap in
the barricade.
    “’Ello,
fellas!” Reggie shouted, looking up from a hole he was digging with a rusty
trowel.
    “Hi,
Reggie,” I replied.  “Where is everyone?”
    “Scrounging
crow-bars and corrugated iron.  Hey, go down there and see what Akwasi’s done
to the War Committee Chamber!”
    The
Burrow really was not a place for the claustrophobic.  So if I had known what I
had been getting myself into at the time when I handed Reggie my Confectionery
Ration, I wouldn’t have been so eager.
    The
first time I crawled in, it was all I could do to master the panic.  But, soon
enough, the further I crawled, the more my panic was replaced by amazement.  And
now I had no fear of being underground at all.
    I
went in last, crawling into the tunnels after Samson with the thick smell of
mud in my nostrils, edging forwards on my elbows and knees.  We passed the
Munitions Store and the Officers’ Mess on the right, before Samson disappeared
around a corner to the left.  I followed him and, as I passed through the
opening into the War Committee Chamber, my right elbow jarred suddenly
downwards as I lost the floor underneath me.  I slid and rolled and soon came
to an abrupt halt on my face, with a mouthful of mud.
    I
got up onto my knees and could hear the other two chuckling.  I brushed the
dirt from my hair and face and looked around.  In the dim light, I was