The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More(35)

        ‘I like it,’ Raymond said. ‘And leave ’is ’ands tied together, right?’

        ‘Right,’ Ernie said. ‘’Ow’s that with you, snot-nose?’

        ‘If that’s what you’re going to do, I can’t very well stop you,’ Peter said, trying to keep his voice cool and calm.

        ‘Just you try and stop us,’ Ernie said, grinning, ‘and then see what ’appens to you.’

        ‘One last question,’ Peter said. ‘Did you ever take on somebody your own size?’

        The moment he said it, he knew he had made a mistake. He saw the flush coming to Ernie’s cheeks and there was a dangerous little spark dancing in his small black eyes.

        Luckily, at that very moment, Raymond saved the situation. ‘Hey! Lookit that bird swimmin’ in the reeds over there!’ he shouted, pointing. ‘Let’s ’ave ’im!’

        It was a mallard drake, with a curvy spoon-shaped yellow beak and a head of emerald green with a white ring round its neck. ‘Now those you really can eat,’ Raymond went on. ‘It’s a wild duck.’

        ‘I’ll ’ave ’im!’ Ernie cried. He let go of the prisoner’s arm and lifted the gun to his shoulder.

        ‘This is a bird sanctuary,’ Peter said.

        ‘A what?’ Ernie asked, lowering the gun.

        ‘Nobody shoots birds here. It’s strictly forbidden.’

        ‘’Oo says it’s forbidden?’

        ‘The owner, Mr Douglas Highton.’

        ‘You must be joking,’ Ernie said and he raised the gun again. He fired. The duck crumpled in the water.

        ‘Go get ’im,’ Ernie said to Peter. ‘Cut ’is ’ands free, Raymond, ’cause then ’ee can be our flippin’ gun-dog and fetch the birds after we shoot ’em.’

        Raymond took out his knife and cut the string binding the small boy’s wrists.

        ‘Go on!’ Ernie snapped. ‘Go get ’im!’

        The killing of the beautiful duck had disturbed Peter very much. ‘I refuse,’ he said.

        Ernie hit him across the face hard with his open hand. Peter didn’t fall down, but a small trickle of blood began running out of one nostril.

        ‘You dirty little perisher!’ Ernie said. ‘You just try refusin’ me one more time and I’m goin’ to make you a promise. And the promise is like this. You refuse me just one more time and I’m goin’ to knock out every single one of them shiny white front teeth of yours, top and bottom. You understand that?’

        Peter said nothing.

        ‘Answer me!’ Ernie barked. ‘Do you understand that?’

        ‘Yes,’ Peter said quietly. ‘I understand.’

        ‘Get on with it, then!’ Ernie shouted.

        Peter walked down the bank, into the muddy water, through the reeds, and picked up the duck. He brought it back and Raymond took it from him and tied string around its legs.

        ‘Now we got a retriever dog with us, let’s see if we can’t get us a few more of them ducks,’ Ernie said. He strolled along the bank, gun in hand, searching the reeds. Suddenly he stopped. He crouched. He put a finger to his lips and said, ‘Sshh!’

        Raymond went over to join him. Peter stood a few yards away, his trousers covered in mud up to the knees.

        ‘Lookit in there!’ Ernie whispered, pointing into a dense patch of bulrushes. ‘D’you see what I see?’

        ‘Holy cats!’ cried Raymond. ‘What a beauty!’

        Peter, peering from a little further away into the rushes, saw at once what they were looking at. It was a swan, a magnificent white swan sitting serenely upon her nest. The nest itself was a huge pile of reeds and rushes that rose up about two feet above the waterline, and upon the top of all this the swan was sitting like a great white lady of the lake. Her head was turned towards the boys on the bank, alert and watchful.