‘You mayn’t have less than a hundred pieces, and they must all weigh a hundred pounds each,’ said the cow, referring to a blue paper of regulation which she carried. ‘But I won’t take no notice if you’re a bit under weight.’
The cow had climbed up a little higher, and David could see she had a dark blue coat, with a red tie like the people at Waterloo.
‘Perhaps I’d better get you out first,’ said the cow. ‘You seem sort of hemmed in. If you’ll stop just where you are, I’ll butt my way somewhere. Steady now, stop just where you are.’
David clung to the portmanteau which was on the top of the pile, and heard the cow retreat a few steps, and breathe heavily.
‘Now, I’m coming,’ she said, and next moment she charged through a weak part of the wall, which consisted only of lighter articles like dressing-cases and gun-cases and bags of golf-clubs. A lunch-basket had stuck on her horns, and she shook her head till it fell off with a great clatter of tin-plates and knives and forks.
‘That was a good bit of evidence,’ she said panting. ‘What train are you going by?’
‘The 11.29 I think,’ said David.
The cow looked at the labels.
‘That’s all right then,’ she said. ‘That’s the one that goes Anywhere. It’s whistling loud still, so you’ve got heaps of time. There’s more time than luggage.’
‘But doesn’t its whistling mean that it’s just going off?’ asked David. He had a firm idea in his mind that he must catch the 11.29, or the whole plan would go wrong.