The children watched the boat being rowed down the lake. The voices of the people came more and more faintly on the breeze. The last they heard was the gramophone being played once again. Then they saw and heard no more. The trippers were gone.
“Come on,” said Jack, standing up and stretching himself. “We’ve had a very narrow escape - but, thank goodness, no one saw us or our belongings.”
“Except that footprint and a bit of string,” said Mike.
“Yes,” said Jack, thoughtfully. “I hope that man called Eddie doesn’t read anywhere about four runaway children and think we might be here because of what he heard and found. We must be prepared for that, you know. We must make some plans to prevent being found if anyone comes again to look for us.”
A distant rumble of thunder was heard. Jack turned to the others. “Not Daisy mooing this time!” he grinned. “Come on, there’s a storm coming. We’ve plenty to do. I’ll go and get Daisy, to milk her. Nora and Mike, you catch the hens and take them back to the hen-yard - and Mike, make some sort of shelter for them with a couple of sacks over sticks, or something, so that they can hide there if they are frightened. Peggy, see if you can light the fire before the rain comes.”
“Ay, ay, Captain!” shouted the children joyfully, full of delight to think they had their island to themselves once more!
A Stormy Night in Willow House
There was certainly a thunderstorm coming. The sky was very black indeed, and it was getting dark. Nora and Mike caught the six hens in the little cave, bundled them gently into the sack, and raced off to the hen-yard with them. Mike stuck two or three willow sticks into the ground at one end of the hen-yard and draped the sack over them.
“There you are, henny-pennies!” said Nora. “There is a nice little shelter for you!”
Plop! Plop! Plop! Enormous drops of rain fell down and the hens gave a frightened squawk. They did not like the rain. They scuttled under the sack at once and lay there quietly, giving each other little pecks now and again.