The others, after waving good-bye, set their feet bravely towards the slopes of Bredon Hill—no small undertaking, for it is very steep and the day was hot. But the pathway is pleasant, first passing by the gardens of the great house, where, burning blue on the wall, they saw their visitor of the night; and then through a deep lane to a hillocky meadow, and so up to the turf of the higher slopes, where the views begin, and where it is very agreeable to rest.
But Robert urged them on. "It is quite flat at the top," he said, "and there is a tower at the very edge, and a perfect place for a picnic."
Here we will leave them, climbing pantingly up, and follow the Slowcoach, as Moses drew it steadily along the lanes at the base of the hill, between the high hedges. At first, as I said, Kink and Gregory walked; but after a while they both sat in front, just over the shafts, and Gregory held the reins (he called it driving), and they discussed life—which means that Gregory asked a thousand questions and Kink did his best to answer or ignore them.
"It's not true, is it, that when all the cows in a field stand up it's going to rain?"
"Don't you think Bredon Hill would be a ripping place to start to fly from?"
"Shall we stop and cook our dinner, or have cold things?"
"It's not true, is it, that whenever you see a white horse you see a red-haired girl? I suppose that means only in London, where there are so many people?"
"Do you know that you can't walk over London Bridge without seeing a white horse?"
"Do you think that Moses is ever going to have a stone in his shoe so that I can get it out with my knife? Couldn't we drive him over a very stony place?"
"You can't really tell the time by dandelions, can you?"