"Weatherc.o.c.k, ahoy! Coo-ee!"

He looked in the direction, fully expecting to see Macey, whose voice he recognised, but for some minutes he was invisible. Then he saw the tall ferns moving, and directly after he caught sight of his fellow-pupil's round face, and then of his arms waving, as he literally waded through the thick growth.

Vane gave an answering shout, and went to meet him, trying the while to arrive at a settlement of the gipsy lads' conduct, and feeling bound to come to the conclusion that they had meant mischief; but heard Macey coming, perhaps the others, for he argued that they could not be very far away.

Vane laughed to himself, as he advanced slowly, for he knew the part he was in well enough, and it amused him as he fought his way on, to think of the struggles Macey, a London boy, was having to get through the tangle of briar and furze. For he had often spent an hour in the place with the doctor, collecting buckthorn and coral-moss, curious lichens, sphagnum, and the round, and long-leaved sundews, or b.u.t.terwort: for all these plants abounded here, with the bramble and bracken. There were plenty of other bog plants, too, in the little pools and patches of water, while the dry, gravelly and sandy mounds here and there were well known to him as the habitat of the long-legged parasol mushrooms, whose edible qualities the doctor had taught him in their walks.

"Poor old Macey!" he said, as he leaped over or parted the great th.o.r.n.y strands of the brambles laden with their luscious fruit which grew here in abundance, and then he stopped short and laughed, for a yell came from his fellow-pupil, who had also stopped.

"Come on," cried Vane.

"Can't! I'm caught by ten million thorns. Oh, I say, do come and help a fellow out."

Vane backed a little way, and selecting an easier path, soon reached the spot where Macey was standing with his head and shoulders only visible.

"Why didn't you pick your way?" he cried.

"Couldn't," said Macey dolefully; "the thorns wouldn't let me. I say, do come."

"All right," said Vane, confidently, but the task was none too easy, for Macey had floundered into the densest patch of th.o.r.n.y growth anywhere near, and the slightest movement meant a sharp p.r.i.c.k from blackberry, rose, or furze.

"Whatever made you try to cross this bit?" said Vane, who had taken out his knife to divide some of the strands.

"I was trying to find the lane. Haven't seen one about anywhere, have you?"

"Why, of course I have," said Vane, laughing at his friend's doleful plight. "It's close by."

"I began to think somebody had taken it away. Oh! Ah! I say--do mind; you're tearing my flesh."

"But I must cut you out. Now then, lift that leg and put your foot on this bramble."

"It's all very fine to talk, but I shall be in rags when I do get out."

"That's better: now the other. There, now, put your hand on my shoulder and give a jump."

"I daren't."

"Nonsense--why?"

"I should leave half my toggery behind."

"You wouldn't: come along. Take my hands."

Macey took hold of his companion's hands, there was a bit of a struggle, and he stood bemoaning his injuries; which consisted of p.r.i.c.ks and scratches, and a number of thorns buried deeply beneath his clothes.

"Nice place this is," he said dolefully.

"Lovely place for botanists," said Vane, merrily.

"Then I'm thankful I'm not a botanist."

"Where are the others?" asked Vane.

"I don't know. Distin wanted to lie down in the shade as soon as we reached the edge of the wood, and Gil wouldn't leave him, out of civility."

"Then you didn't come rabbit-shooting?"

"Rabbit-grandmothering! We only came for a walk, and of course I didn't want to sit down and listen to Distin run down England and puff the West Indies, so I wandered off into the wood and lost myself."

"What, there too?"

"Yes, and spent my time thinking about you."

"What! Because you wanted me to act as guide?"

"No, I didn't: it was because I got into a part where the oak trees and fir trees were open, and there was plenty of gra.s.s. And there I kept on finding no end of toadstools such as you delight in devouring."

"Ah!" exclaimed Vane eagerly. "Where was it?"

"Oh, you couldn't find the place again. I couldn't, but there were such big ones; and what do you think I said?"

"How should I know?" said Vane, trampling down the brambles, so as to make the way easier for his companion.

"I said I wish the nasty pig was here, and he could feast for a month."

"Thank you," said Vane. "I don't care. I can only pity ignorant people. But whereabouts did you leave Gil and Distin?"

"I don't know, I tell you. Under an oak tree."

"Yes, but which?"

"Oh, somewhere. I had a pretty job to find my way out, and I didn't till I had picked out a great beech tree to sleep in to-night, and began thinking of collecting acorns for food."

"Why didn't you shout?"

"I did, till I was so hoa.r.s.e I got down to a whisper. Oh, I say, why did you let that bit of furze fly back?"

"Couldn't help it."

"I'm getting sick of Greythorpe. No police to ask your way, no gas lamps, no cabs."

"None at all. It's a glorious place, isn't it, Aleck?"

"Well, I suppose it is when you know your way, and are not being p.r.i.c.ked with thorns."

"Ah, you're getting better," cried Vane. "What shall we do--go back alone, or try and find them?"

"Go back, of course. I'm not going through all that again to-day to find old Distin, and hear him sneer about you. He's always going on.