CHAPTER XIII
A SENSATIONAL PAPER-CHASE
Nat set a brisk pace for the first part of the paper-chase, declaring that she liked to get well out of sight of the hounds as soon as possible. She led the way across fields and through copses, over a stream by whose banks each year meadowsweet and herb-willow grew profusely; several times they climbed gates, and once they laid a trail along the bottom of a dry ditch, scrambling through a hole in the hedge at the end. Here Monica accidently brushed by a bed of stinging nettles, but though they must have stung her legs, her companion noticed with satisfaction that she made no complaint, and when Nat chose to set a very hard pace she kept up with dogged determination.
At length they came out upon a stretch of rough common land, where Nat explained that her scheme was to lay a trail right through the Haunted Farm, and thence to make their way back to the school gates as fast as they could. They were walking quickly up a rather steep slope that led to a collection of not very extensive and decidedly dilapidated farm buildings. Monica pricked up her ears.
"Did you say haunted?" she inquired with interest.
"It's only a name," replied Nat with contempt. "It has been unoccupied for the last half-dozen years or more, so of course, folk say no one will live there because it is haunted. The truth is that the land has been bought by a neighbouring farm and these buildings aren't required. Besides, the soil just here is poor and not of great value for farming purposes."
She led the way through the farm gate that hung by one hinge, across a muddy yard, then clambered through a paneless side-window.
The two girls found themselves in a house where dust lay inches thick everywhere and where bats, birds and mice found a pleasant abode. The farmhouse itself was only a cottage, and after passing through two empty rooms they let themselves out by the back door, which was bolted from the inside but not locked.
"Come along," said Nat, "straight down this slope; not too fast, as the grass is rather slippery. Then we'll make tracks for home as quickly as we can. My bag is getting rather light."
"So's mine," said Monica, then added, pointing: "What is that down in the little hollow? Looks like a square fence."
"It's an old well, supposed to be very historical. It's called the Saxons' well, because, when the Saxon army, fighting against the Danish invaders, was encamped behind the earthworks on the hill yonder, it is said they used to steal down and get their water from this well. Whether that is true or not I can't say, but the well is certainly very old. People also say it is so deep no one has ever yet touched the bottom, but I expect that's all rubbish. I've never been right up to it."