Free Pastoral by Nevil Shute Page B

far. Do you know that country?”
    “Only by flying over it,” he said. “It looks as if it would be interesting country on the ground.”
    She nodded. “I like it. But I suppose you always do like the place where you were brought up.”
    They turned to the badger’s earth. It showed as a scrape and a hole beneath the root of an oak tree, at a place where the soil had broken away, making a little earthy cliff. There was a fairly strong smell of animal about. “Stinks like a badger,” said Marshall complacently. “Now I know what that means.”
    She laughed. “It does, rather.”
    They stooped down together by the hole, one on each side. The sun shone on the dead leaves and the budding shrubs above them, on the pale blue of their uniforms, and glinted on their brass buttons. “Do you think he’s in there?” she enquired. She looked up at him, merry and keen.
    “Must be,” he said. “An empty hole wouldn’t ponk like this.”
    “Let’s get a stick and poke about, and see if we can get him out.”
    They got up and went and found a chestnut branch and broke a long stick off it, and went back to the earth. Gervase took it and began rattling it about down the hole; once she thought that she touched something soft that backed away. They tried in turns to get the badger out, and presently they desisted and stood up, muddy and cheerful.
    “He won’t play,” said Marshall. “Too bad.”
    “I do wish we could get him out,” said Gervase. “I just want to see him.”
    “The only thing to do would be to come back with a pick and shovel.”
    “He’d dig away from you,” she said. “I bet he can dig faster than you can.”
    “I’m not going to try,” said Marshall. “If you really want to see a badger I’ll take you to the Zoo.”
    She said: “I’ve never seen the Zoo.”
    He noted that for future reference and said: “Well, that’s all I can show you here to-day. Would you like to walk on for a bit and see where this track goes to?”
    She said: “Let’s.” So they started on over the hill, walking on the dead leaves between the trees, talking about the badgers and the foxes and all the little creatures of the woods. And presently she stopped. “Look—there’s a primrose!”
    He was mildly interested. “There’s another one over there—and there’s another.”
    “It’s frightfully early for them.”
    “It’s the second of March. Is that early?”
    She laughed up at him. “Of course it is. You don’t know anything. Let’s see if we can get enough to take back.”
    She stooped down to the leaves and began to pick the occasional blossoms. He stooped down with her, strained and awkward where she was lissom. He was not really interested in primroses, but he thought that he had never seen a sweeter sight than Gervase picking them.
    With some difficulty they found sufficient for a little bunch; they bound leaves round the posy with a bit of fine string from his pocket and went on through the woods. And presently he said: “I say, what was wrong this morning with Ma Stevens?”
    Her face clouded; she thought quickly and carefully before replying. “It wasn’t anything to do with you or your batwoman,” she replied. “It was just she was a bit upset.”
    He was no fool, and he had lived a long time on a station. “Forbes?” he enquired. “Does she take things hard?”
    The girl said a little testily: “Of course she does. Nobody’s at their best after a thing like that.”
    Marshall said: “I didn’t know she got cut up about things. She always seems so tough.”
    “I think that’s her way.” She turned to him. “Do you think any of them got out?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    A dreadful curiosity made her enquire: “Did you see it happen?”
    He nodded. “I was stooging around outside a bit before going in, and so was Davy. We both saw it. It was a direct hit; I don’t think any of them got out.” He did not expand upon the matter. He had long passed the