Діти залізниці
The hound in the red jersey.
"Ihateviews,"saidPhyllis,"don’tyou,Peter?"
"Let’sgeton,"saidPeter.
"Butthisisn’tlikeaviewtheytakeyoutoincarriageswhenyou’reattheseaside,allseaandsandandbarehills.It’slikethe‘colouredcounties’inoneofMother’spoetrybooks."
"It’snotsodusty,"saidPeter;"lookattheAqueductstraddlingslapacrossthevalleylikeagiantcentipede,andthenthetownsstickingtheirchurchspiresupoutofthetreeslikepensoutofaninkstand.Ithinkit’smorelike
"TherecouldheseethebannersOftwelvefaircitiesshine."
"Iloveit,"saidBobbie;"it’sworththeclimb."
"Thepaperchaseisworththeclimb,"saidPhyllis,"ifwedon’tloseit.Let’sgeton.It’salldownhillnow."
"Isaidthattenminutesago,"saidPeter.
"Well,I’VEsaiditnow,"saidPhyllis;"comeon."
"Loadsoftime,"saidPeter.Andtherewas.Forwhentheyhadgotdowntoalevelwiththetopofthetunnel’smouth—theywereacoupleofhundredyardsoutoftheirreckoningandhadtocreepalongthefaceofthehill—therewasnosignofthehareorthehounds.
"They’vegonelongago,ofcourse,"saidPhyllis,astheyleanedonthebrickparapetabovethetunnel.
