Part 19 (2/2)

His companions both acquiesced in the ability, but did not seem to admire the plan of execution any more than Harry, who walked with a kind of limp, and contented himself with holding the kite up when the repairs were completed, and letting Philip run with the string, which he did so successfully that the kite shot up into the air and seemed to be most evenly balanced, for it rose and rose as the string was slowly let out, till it attained a great height, and then seemed to be quite stationary in that soft and gentle breeze; but all the while pulling hardly at the string as though alive, and desirous to fly away and escape to some far-off region--though its destination would most probably have been the first tree, or, escaping that, the ground some quarter of a mile further on.

The boys sat down in the long gra.s.s, and took it in turns to hold the stick, amusing themselves by sending disks of paper up to the kite as messengers,--watching the paper circles as they skimmed lightly along the string. But they were very untrustworthy messengers as a rule, for some of them stopped half, quarter, or three-quarters of the distance up the string, sometimes for a long time, until an extra puff of wind started them again, and, what was worst of all, they none of them brought back any person.

They were sitting down, dreamily watching the kite and the great white silvery clouds floating across the blue sky, looking like mountains in some far-off land; some with snowy peaks, some with deep valleys; but all with a background of that deep clear blue so little noticed by us because so frequently to be seen. All at once came from the field on the right, rising and falling, now apparently close at hand, then as though far-off, a peculiar cry--

”Creek--creek; creek--creek,” for about a dozen times, when there was a pause. Then again, the peculiarly harsh creaking cry was heard.

”There's an old meadow-crake,” said Harry, who was holding the kite: ”let's go and hunt him up; perhaps we could catch it.”

”But who's to hold the kite?” said Philip.

”Put the stick in the ground, and leave it,” said Harry, at once setting to work to put his project into execution, by thrusting one end of the stick to which the string was tied deeply into a crack in the ground.

”That won't be safe,” said Fred, trying the stick.

”Oh yes, it will,” said Harry, giving it a stamp on the top with his foot; ”come along.”

”Creek--creek,” sang the landrail or meadow-crake, apparently a quarter of a mile off.

”Come on, boys,” said Harry again, running off with a half limp, closely followed by Philip and Fred.

”Creek--creek,” said the landrail, far enough down, away from where it had been heard at first.

”There's an old stupid,” said Philip; ”why, where are you?” he continued.

”Creek--creek; creek--creek,” said the landrail again, as though just over the hedge, and not more than twenty yards from them.

”Here's a gap,” said Harry, creeping through the hedge; ”look sharp; we'll have him.”

Philip and Fred crept through, and stood with Harry, looking for the bird they were to catch; but all was silent, except the hum of the insects amidst the hedge flowers.

”Now, there's an artful thing,” said Philip.

”Creek--creek; creek--creek,” came from the bottom of the field again.

”He's down at the bottom,” said Harry, running along by the hedgerow toward the bottom of the field.

”Creck-creck; creek-creek,” said the bird again, and away started Philip in the opposite direction.

”Creek--creek; creek--creek,” said the bird again, close at hand.

”Why, I shall catch it,” said Fred to himself, for he had stayed behind; and now started off into the middle of the field in quest of the mysterious stranger.

”Creek--creek; creek--creek; creek--creek,” cried the bird, apparently here, there, and everywhere, but always invisible; and up and down, and round and round, ran the boys, until they all stood together at last, wiping the perspiration from their faces, and fanning themselves with their caps; while the provoking ”Creek-creek” kept on as bad as ever for a while, and then all at once stopped; and, though they waited and listened attentively for a long while, not another sound could they hear.

”Ain't it funny,” said Philip, ”that you never can tell where those things are?”

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