Chapter XVII: So Slippery

THEY found the old woman indoors; in fact she never could be anywhere else, since she had nearly lost her walking powers, and was only just able to creep about the room. A married daughter, living not far off, used to come in and see to her wants once or twice a day. But most of the time, she had to manage for herself as best she could. The basketful of good things, brought by Aunt Judith, was very welcome; and then Aunt Judith had to sit by her ever so long, listening to the tale of all her troubles.

Time went faster than anybody knew, while the old woman talked and her visitor listened.

Jock had been sent into the little garden, to amuse himself. He picked a big bunch of blue-bells from a bank near, and watched the bees, and listened to the birds, and could have gone on so for hours.

When at length Aunt Judith came out, a change had come over the sky. There was a grey mistiness everywhere, and clouds were gathering. Aunt Judith looked up and around.

"Oh, I don't think it means rain at present," she said. "So we will keep to our plan, Jock—if you feel inclined for so much walking. I suppose it will be about a mile and a half longer than the way we came; and it means going through a lovely little valley. They would call it a 'Combe' in Devonshire, and we always do call it so, Grannie and I. It is said to be really a very old and disused quarry—all grown over and full of trees. What do you feel like?"

Jock declared himself perfectly rested, and ready for any length of walk. He was eager to try the new route. One heavy basket, still unpacked, had been left with the old woman; and the other was almost empty. So they could go unburdened.

At a steady pace they set off, and after about a mile re-entered the wood, but in a different part. And by the time that they emerged from the wood, the weather had changed still more. The sky was growing black, and the whole scene looked dark. Aunt Judith began rather to regret having chosen the longer way. Now, however, it was too late to turn back.

So they trudged on, beguiling their walk by stories. Jock loved telling stories of his home-life and his school-fellows, and Aunt Judith seemed to enjoy hearing them. But the beauty of the day was gone.

"Well, if rain does come, it can't be helped," Aunt Judith said cheerfully. "You and I are not sugar or salt, so we shall not melt. I wish we had an umbrella—but who could dream that it would be wanted? Perhaps we may get in dry, after all."

She had hardly spoken the words when some heavy slow drops fell, each making a big round mark on the ground, and then, all at once, came a furious downpour. It was quite a deluge. And Aunt Judith had on only a thin jumper with a thin serge skirt, for she always dressed lightly in summer.

"We must find shelter," she said. "Run, Jock—run."

They raced together as fast as wind and laughter would allow, towards a shed—a very tumble-down affair—in a field close by. It gave protection from the rain, and hardly had they arrived before a sharp pelt of hail rattled on all around.

"Good thing we got here in time." Aunt Judith shook her skirt, like a dog coming out of a pond, and felt Jock over to see if he were very wet. "Well, it can't be helped," she said once more. "We must wait till the storm is over."

They had to wait a good while. Though the hail lessened, the rain kept on.

"I wonder what o'clock it is." She took out her watch, and then put it to her ear. "Stopped! Now I wonder why."

"Mr. Moore's watch wouldn't go neither."

"Something in the weather, perhaps. How tiresome. It must have stopped while we were having our tea; and I have not the faintest idea how long it is since then. I've never given it a thought."

Jock laughed. He found all this very good fun.

"We must get on as fast as we can—directly we can start. I shouldn't much care to go through the Combe in the dark—it means a pretty stiff path to the bottom. Beyond the Combe will not matter, for we get then to a level high road. I wish the rain would stop."

Apparently the rain was in no hurry. They waited and waited, till Aunt Judith's patience was nearly at an end. The growing darkness might be only due to clouds and rain, but it "might" mean—lateness.

Another sharp burst of hail came, quite a bombardment of sharp little pellets rattling on the crazy roof of their shelter. And this time when it stopped, the rain also lessened. All at once the clouds broke, and patches of blue sky became visible. Then, suddenly, the sun shone out, brightly, radiantly, lighting up the gloom with warm gladness.

At all events, he had not set yet, but the setting was very near, for he was low down, close to the horizon. Judith knew now that she and Jock could not possibly get home till after dark. The most she could hope for was that they might reach and pass the little Combe, while still able to see their way.

Off they set, going at a fine pace, for there was no time to be lost. Jock enjoyed himself immensely. Coming darkness meant only the more fun. They hurried on with increasing speed, as Aunt Judith found the distance greater than she had expected. It was years since she had taken this walk, and the friend who then went with her declared it to be at least twice as long as the other way. Aunt Judith had positively argued that it was nothing of the sort, but only a mile and a half farther, and she generally held fast to her own opinions. Now, however, as they pressed on and on, she began seriously to wonder whether she had not been in the wrong and her friend in the right. The walk seemed endless, and the sun had long set, yet still the Combe lay ahead.

"At last!" Aunt Judith said with relief, when a hill loomed in front of them.

"Have we got to go over the top of that hill?"

"Not over it. The Combe is on one side, some way up, and this path leads us straight through, and comes out at the farther end, close to a good road. Then we turn to the left, and just keep straight on."

Soon they reached the edge of the Combe, and in front lay a deep hollow, with steep sides, clothed in masses of trees, big ones fringing the outer verge, and smaller ones crowded together below. It looked very dark, and the path which they had to go down was not only steep and narrow, but the heavy rain had made it sticky and slippery. Aunt Judith had not reckoned on anything of this kind. She was not so good at climbing as at walking, for the simple reason that the country round her home gave few opportunities for practice.

"Take care, Jock; be careful. Don't slip, whatever you do. It would be a very unpleasant roll to the bottom."

Jock laughed and agreed. He still thought it all amazing fun. But a little note of anxiety had crept into Aunt Judith's voice.

As they slowly and cautiously made their way down, the remaining twilight was almost cut off by high rocks and overhanging trees. However charming a place in sunlight, it certainly did look rather dismal now. Jock wished that they could have come earlier.

"Take care!" again exclaimed Aunt Judith, as she slid sharply a foot or more downward, clutching at bushes.

Jock followed, not at all alarmed, and still ready for a laugh. The next few steps were steeper still, and she paused, not seeing how to manage them.

"I don't like this," she said. "I believe the grass would be easier. Wait a moment—while I try it."

Jock obeyed. He was just behind and above her. She struggled carefully to the side of the narrow path, and stepped off on the strip of grass which bordered it.

And in one instant, before Jock could dream of what would happen, her feet seemed to slide away from her on the wet, smooth, slippery surface, and she went rolling, rolling, falling, falling, down the whole descent, till stopped at the bottom. One quick "Oh!" at the first moment was the only sound she made.