The boys then returned in a state of cloyey stickiness, and very soon finished their preparations for the following day; and at last, by dint of coaxing, Philip persuaded Cook to make a little paste; Harry borrowed the housemaid's scissors, and then obtained from the tool-shed a couple of straight laths. These he fashioned to his required size, and then, by means of a piece of waxed twine, securely bound one to the other in the form of a Latin cross, the upright limb being about eight inches longer than the others. These were now kept in their places by a tightly-tied string pa.s.sing from one extremity to the other of the limbs of the cross; and then by means of a loop of string the whole was balanced, and found to be equal in weight as far as the two side limbs of the cross were concerned.

"Why, you are going to make a kite," said Fred.

"To be sure we are," said Harry.

"But the top ought to be round, and not made like that. That won't be half a kite."

"Won't it?" said Harry: "it will be more than that, for it will be a whole one."

"But it won't fly," said Fred.

"Fly!" said Philip. "It will fly twice as well as your stupid London-made kites; you see if it don't."

Harry was not a bit disturbed by his cousin's criticism, but continued his job to the end, pasting away in the most spirited manner, till he had made a very respectable-looking kite, half blue and half white, which he then stood on one side to dry, just as the dinner-bell rang.

Directly after dinner the boys set to work to make a tail for the kite, and also fitted it with wings--Fred being employed meanwhile in winding the string off the ball on to a stick, and joining any pieces that might exist, in case of an accident when the kite was up, as it would have been no joke for it to have broken loose. But Fred was not very well up in his task, and somehow or other made a perfect Laoc.o.o.n of himself with the string, and got at last into a regular tangle, so that fully half an hour was taken up in endeavours to get it right again, which was only done at last with a knife, and at the expense of many yards of string.

At length all was in readiness, and away they went into the fields to fly the machine that had taken so much time to manufacture.

"Now, I shall get it up," said Harry, "because I made it; so you go and hold up down at the bottom of the field."

Away went Philip with the kite, Harry unwinding the string as he went; when they found out that they had got to the wrong way of the wind, and must change places. This was at length done, and then, when all was ready--

"Now then," cried Harry, starting off to run, but Philip held the kite too tightly, and the consequence was the sudden check snapped the string, and down went the kite again upon the gra.s.s. The string was tied, and a fresh trial made, and this time with rather better success, for up went the kite at a great rate for thirty or forty yards, when over it tipped, and came down head first, with what Philip termed a "great pitch," to the ground.

"She wants more tail," said Harry; so, by way of balance, two pocket handkerchiefs were tied to the end of the paper tail, and another attempt was made, but still without success, for on starting again, although the kite ascended capitally, yet when a little way in the air, Harry turned round to loosen out more string as he went, and running backwards, went down head over heels upon the gra.s.s, let go of the string, and away went the kite in a similar way to Harry, but with the stick of string bobbing along the ground, and every now and then checking the kite by catching in the gra.s.sy strands.

Philip and Fred tried hard to cut it off and catch it, but it was of no use, for before they reached the string the kite had lodged in the cedar, and was ignominiously napping about as it hung by its tail.

"Now, there's a bore," said Harry, coming up, puffing and panting; "we shan't get it down without a ladder."

"Pull the string and try," said Philip.

Harry did as his brother said, and pulled, and pulled, and at last set the kite at liberty, but with the loss of half its tail, which hung in the tree, with the two pocket handkerchiefs fluttering about.

"Why, I can climb up and get that," said Harry, "I know."

"Well, why don't you try?" said Fred; for he had lost much of the nervous feeling which used to affect him when anything of this kind was in progress.

"He can't get it," said Philip. "He couldn't get the sparrow's nest."

But Harry stripped off his jacket, and, by means of a lift from Fred, got upon one of the great horizontal boughs, and soon contrived to reach the one to which the kite tail was fluttering. But Harry was at the thick end, by the tree trunk, and the tail was twenty feet further off, at the thin end; and, as those who have tested the wood in their lead pencils well know, cedar is very brittle. Now, Harry was no coward, but he knew that he would be laughed at if he did not succeed, so, in spite of the danger, he prepared to creep along the branch, a very awkward thing to do from the numbers of small projecting twigs, and the p.r.i.c.kly nature of the spiny leaves. Still he persevered, and crept along a foot at a time, and nearer and nearer to the kite tail, till at last the branch began to bend terribly, bringing his feet almost in contact with the bough below him. Still he went on, and stretching forth his hand snapped off the twig which held the kite tail, and threw it down.

"Snip--snap--crish--crash--hurry--rustle--b.u.mp--b.u.mp--b.u.mp!" went a noise; and, in less time than it takes to tell it, down came Harry, fully twenty feet, on to the gra.s.s at his brother's and cousin's feet, where he remained, looking very white, frightened, and confused; when all at once he got up, and making a wry face, said--

"There, I told you I could get it."

Poor Harry! He was much quicker in his descent than ascent, for the branch upon which he sat had snapped in two and let him down from bough to bough of the thickly-limbed tree till he b.u.mped on the last, which was not above five feet from the ground, and at its extremities almost touched. It was a most fortunate thing that he was not injured seriously; but a few bruises and scratches were the full extent of the damages done to his skin, though his trousers and shirt told a very different tale.

"There," said Harry again, rubbing the green off his trousers, "I told you I could get the tail, didn't I?"

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?"