“Macaroni eats his raw,” said Mark. They had often seen John Young eating thick slices of raw bacon in the shed as he sat at luncheon. “Horrible cannibal—he’s worse than Pan, who won’t touch it cooked.”
He looked outside the gate—there was the slice of the cooked bacon Bevis had cut for the spaniel lying on the ground. Pan had not even taken the trouble to put it in his larder. But something else had gnawed at it.
“A rat’s been here,” said Mark. “Don’t you remember the jack’s head?”
“And mice in the cave,” said Bevis.
“And a tomtit on the shelf.”
“And a robin on the table.”
“And a wagtail was in the court yesterday.”
“A wren comes on the stockade.”
“Spiders up there,” said Mark, pointing to the corner of the hut where there was a web.
“Tarantulas,” said Bevis, “and mosquitoes in the evening.”