“He dun’t look very int’restin’,” said Ginger scornfully as, sitting in a row on a gate, the Outlaws stared in an unblinking manner quite incompatible with Good Manners at little Mr. Galileo Simpkins driving by on his way from the station in the village cab. The driver of the village cab, who knew the Outlaws well, kept a wary eye upon them as he passed, and had his whip ready. The ancient quadruped who drew the village cab seemed to know them too, and turned his head to leer at them sardonically from behind his blinkers. But the attention of the Outlaws was all for the occupant of the village cab, who alone was quite unaware of them as the ancient equipage passed on its way. He was merely thinking what a fine day it was for his arrival at his new home and hoping that his skeleton (which he had packed most carefully) had travelled well.
William considered Ginger’s comment for a moment in silence. Then he said meditatively: “Oh ... dunno. He looks sort of soft and ’s if he couldn’t run very fast. We c’n try playin’ in his garden sometime. I bet he couldn’t catch us.”
They then had a stone-throwing competition which lasted till one of William’s stones went through General Moult’s cucumber-frame.
When General Moult had finally given up the chase, the Outlaws threw themselves breathlessly (for General Moult, despite his size, was quite a good runner) on to the grass at the top of the hill and reviewed the further possibilities of amusement which the world held for them. They decided after a short discussion not to teach Etheldrida any more tricks, not so much because they were tired of teaching Etheldrida tricks as because Etheldrida seemed to be tired of learning them.
Douglas stroked his scars thoughtfully and said:
“Not that I’m frightened of her, but—but, well, let’s try’n think of somethin’ a bit more int’restin’.”
No one had anything very original to suggest (they seemed to have exhausted the possibilities of the whole universe in those six weeks of holidays), so they made new bows and arrows and held a match which William won in that he made the finest long distance shot. He shot his arrow into the air and unfortunately it came to earth by way of Miss Miggs’ scullery window. Miss Miggs happened to be in the scullery at the time and again the Outlaws, bitterly meditating on the over-population of the countryside, had to flee from the avenging wrath of an outraged householder. In the shelter of the woods they again drew breath.
“I say,” said Ginger, “wun’t it be nice to live in the middle of Central Africa or the North Pole or somewhere where there isn’t any houses for miles an’ miles an’ miles.”
“She runs,” commented Douglas patronisingly, “faster’n what you’d think to look at her.”
“What’ll we do now?” said Henry.