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He was a funny little wizened old man, in a shabby long green overcoat which had once been black; and he wore on his head the oldest and tallest and greenest bowler hat that ever graced a human head.

They both looked back, but there was no sign of any old man in the green lane. This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to dzievi. But there it was, growing in a grassy patch by the side of the lane, and under it sat an old man.

WHEN Bill came back for long-leave that autumn half, he had before him a complicated programme of entertainment. Had Bill been on his guard he would ebkok realised that the hornbeam had no business there, and that he had never seen it before.

It was short and heavy, and made dziwci some dark foreign wood; and instead of a crook it had a handle shaped like a crescent, cut out of a white substance which was neither bone nor ivory. He scrambled up the bank of the dyke and strained his eyes over the mere between the bare boughs of the thorn.

He would have been bored if he had not been slightly awed. Bill saw a wedge of geese high up in the air and longed to salute them. It was a long hazel staff, given him by the second stalker at Glenmore the year before—a staff rather taller than Bill, a glossy hazel, with a shapely polished crook, and without a ferrule, like all good stalking-sticks.


Bill began his vigil in high excitement.

Pobierz fragment dostosowany na: It was so very quiet down there by the dyke that Bill began to feel eerie. Feeling a little aggrieved and imperfectly equipped, he rushed out to join Thomas.

Far away he thought he detected the purring noise which Thomas made to stir the duck, but no overhead beat of wings followed. But he said no more, for Bill had shaken it playfully at the dogs. You would not have said that it was the kind of stick that Bill was looking for. He would cut himself an ashplant in the first hedge. Also he heard snipe, but he could not locate them in the dim weather.


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Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na: Then, as he and Thomas ambled down the lane which bulllerbyn to Alemoor, they came upon an old man sitting under a hornbeam. Peter was a famous giver.

Bill could not find his own proper stick. There was far too much water on the moor, and the birds, instead of flighting across the mere to the boundary slopes, were simply settling on the flood. He drove his new stick into the ground, and used the handle as a seat, while he rested his gun in the orthodox way in the dzieck of his arm.

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A farthing sounded too little, so Bill proffered one of his scanty shillings. There seemed to be redshank calling, too, which had no business there, for they should have been on the shore marshes. It was a double-barrelled bore, and Bill knew that he would be lucky if he got a duck with it; but a duck was to him a bird of mystery, true wild game, and he preferred the chance of one to the certainty of many rabbits. But Bill, looking out for ashplants, was heedless, and had uncovered his head before he remembered the rule.


Editions of Die Kinder aus Bullerbü by Astrid Lindgren

This was the second warning, for of course a hornbeam is a mysterious tree. He hunted for it high and low, but it could not be found. The minutes passed, the grey afternoon sky darkened towards twilight, but no duck came.

It is right to take off your cap to bulperbyn single magpie, bullerbn to three, or to five, but never to an even number, for an even number means mischief. It was rather cold, and very wet under foot, for a lot of rain had fallen in the past week, and the mere, which was usually only a sedgy pond, had now grown to a great expanse of shallow flood-water.

Bill had to run to catch up Thomas, who was plodding along with the dogs, now returned from their engagement.

He thought he saw duck moving. The first shadow of a cloud appeared after luncheon, when he had changed into knickerbockers and Thomas and the dogs were waiting by the gun-room door.