right
up to Peter's. "I'm tellin ' you for the last
time," he said, soft and dangerous. "Go get ' er !"
Tears were running down Peter's face as he went slowly down the bank and
entered the water. He waded out to the dead swan and picked it up tenderly with
both hands. Underneath it were two tiny cygnets, their bodies covered with
yellow down. They were huddling together in the centre of the nest.
"Any eggs?" Ernie shouted from the bank.
"No," Peter answered. "Nothing." There was a chance, he felt, that when the male swan returned, it would
continue to feed the young ones on its own if they were left in the nest. He
certainly did not want to leave them to the tender mercies of Ernie and
Raymond.
Peter carried the dead swan back to the edge of the lake. He placed it on the
ground. Then he stood up and faced the two others. His eyes, still wet with
tears, were blazing with fury. "That was a filthy thing to do!" he
shouted. "It was a stupid pointless act of vandalism! You're a couple of
ignorant idiots! It's you who ought to be dead instead of the swan! You're not
fit to be alive!"
He stood there, as tall as he could stand, splendid in his fury, facing the two
taller boys and not caring any longer what they did to him.
Ernie didn't hit him this time. He seemed just a tiny bit taken aback at first
by this outburst, but he quickly recovered. And now his loose lips formed
themselves into a sly, wet smirk and his small close-together eyes began to
glint in a most malicious manner. "So you like swans, is that right?"
he asked softly.
"I like swans and I hate you!" Peter cried.
"And am I right in thinkin '," Ernie went
on, still smirking, "am I absolutely right in thinkin '
that you wished this old swan down 'ere were alive instead of dead?"
"That's a stupid question!" Peter shouted.
" ' Ee needs a clip over
the ear-'ole," Raymond said.
"Wait," Ernie said. "I'm doin ' this
exercise." He turned back to Peter. "So if I could make this swan
come alive and go flyin ' round the sky all over
again, then you'd be ' appy . Right?"
"That's another stupid question!" Peter cried out. "Who d'you think you are?"
"I'll tell you ' oo I am," Ernie said.
"I'm a magic man, that's ' oo I am. And just to
make you ' appy and contented, I am about to do a
magic trick that'll make this dead swan come alive and go flyin '
all over the sky once again."
"Rubbish!" Peter said. "I'm going." He turned and started
to walk away.
"Grab ' im !" Ernie said.
Raymond grabbed him.
"Leave me alone!" Peter cried out.
Raymond slapped him on the cheek, hard. "Now, now," he said.
"Don't fight with auntie, not unless you want to get ' urt ."
" Gimme your knife," Ernie said, holding out
his hand. Raymond gave him his knife.
Ernie knelt down beside the dead swan and stretched out one of its enormous
wings. "Watch this," he said.
"What's the big idea?" Raymond asked.
"Wait and see," Ernie said. And now, using the knife, he proceeded to
sever the great white wing from the swan's body. There is a joint in the bone
where the wing meets the side of the bird, and Ernie located this and slid the
knife into the joint and cut through the tendon. The knife was very sharp and
it cut well, and soon the wing came away all in one piece.
Ernie turned the swan over and severed the other wing.
"String," he said, holding out his hand to Raymond.
Raymond, who was grasping Peter by the arm, was watching fascinated.
"Where'd you learn ' ow to butcher up a bird like
that?" he asked.
"With chickens," Ernie said. "We used to nick chickens from up
at Stevens Farm and cut ' em up into chicken parts and
flog ' em to a shop in Aylesbury . Gimme the
string."
Raymond gave him the ball of string. Ernie cut off six pieces, each about a
yard long.
There are a series of strong bones running along the top edge of a swan's wing,
and Ernie took one of the wings and started tying one end of the bits of string
all the way along the top edge of the great wing. When
up to Peter's. "I'm tellin ' you for the last
time," he said, soft and dangerous. "Go get ' er !"
Tears were running down Peter's face as he went slowly down the bank and
entered the water. He waded out to the dead swan and picked it up tenderly with
both hands. Underneath it were two tiny cygnets, their bodies covered with
yellow down. They were huddling together in the centre of the nest.
"Any eggs?" Ernie shouted from the bank.
"No," Peter answered. "Nothing." There was a chance, he felt, that when the male swan returned, it would
continue to feed the young ones on its own if they were left in the nest. He
certainly did not want to leave them to the tender mercies of Ernie and
Raymond.
Peter carried the dead swan back to the edge of the lake. He placed it on the
ground. Then he stood up and faced the two others. His eyes, still wet with
tears, were blazing with fury. "That was a filthy thing to do!" he
shouted. "It was a stupid pointless act of vandalism! You're a couple of
ignorant idiots! It's you who ought to be dead instead of the swan! You're not
fit to be alive!"
He stood there, as tall as he could stand, splendid in his fury, facing the two
taller boys and not caring any longer what they did to him.
Ernie didn't hit him this time. He seemed just a tiny bit taken aback at first
by this outburst, but he quickly recovered. And now his loose lips formed
themselves into a sly, wet smirk and his small close-together eyes began to
glint in a most malicious manner. "So you like swans, is that right?"
he asked softly.
"I like swans and I hate you!" Peter cried.
"And am I right in thinkin '," Ernie went
on, still smirking, "am I absolutely right in thinkin '
that you wished this old swan down 'ere were alive instead of dead?"
"That's a stupid question!" Peter shouted.
" ' Ee needs a clip over
the ear-'ole," Raymond said.
"Wait," Ernie said. "I'm doin ' this
exercise." He turned back to Peter. "So if I could make this swan
come alive and go flyin ' round the sky all over
again, then you'd be ' appy . Right?"
"That's another stupid question!" Peter cried out. "Who d'you think you are?"
"I'll tell you ' oo I am," Ernie said.
"I'm a magic man, that's ' oo I am. And just to
make you ' appy and contented, I am about to do a
magic trick that'll make this dead swan come alive and go flyin '
all over the sky once again."
"Rubbish!" Peter said. "I'm going." He turned and started
to walk away.
"Grab ' im !" Ernie said.
Raymond grabbed him.
"Leave me alone!" Peter cried out.
Raymond slapped him on the cheek, hard. "Now, now," he said.
"Don't fight with auntie, not unless you want to get ' urt ."
" Gimme your knife," Ernie said, holding out
his hand. Raymond gave him his knife.
Ernie knelt down beside the dead swan and stretched out one of its enormous
wings. "Watch this," he said.
"What's the big idea?" Raymond asked.
"Wait and see," Ernie said. And now, using the knife, he proceeded to
sever the great white wing from the swan's body. There is a joint in the bone
where the wing meets the side of the bird, and Ernie located this and slid the
knife into the joint and cut through the tendon. The knife was very sharp and
it cut well, and soon the wing came away all in one piece.
Ernie turned the swan over and severed the other wing.
"String," he said, holding out his hand to Raymond.
Raymond, who was grasping Peter by the arm, was watching fascinated.
"Where'd you learn ' ow to butcher up a bird like
that?" he asked.
"With chickens," Ernie said. "We used to nick chickens from up
at Stevens Farm and cut ' em up into chicken parts and
flog ' em to a shop in Aylesbury . Gimme the
string."
Raymond gave him the ball of string. Ernie cut off six pieces, each about a
yard long.
There are a series of strong bones running along the top edge of a swan's wing,
and Ernie took one of the wings and started tying one end of the bits of string
all the way along the top edge of the great wing. When
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