Free The Painted Tent by Victor Canning Page A

and being trained, I’ve got to admit that the older I get the less I like it. So from now on the responsibility is yours. You can have Fria. She’s your property and you can decide what is best for her.’
    â€˜Really, you mean that?’
    â€˜I do.’
    Smiler jumped up. ‘Oh, thank you, ma’am. Thank you.’ He moved to her, put his arms around her without thinking, and gave her a hug.
    The Duchess chuckled. ‘Well, thank you, Sammy. It’s a long time since any man did that to me. But remember, whatever you decide may be best for Fria, she may have ideas of her own. She’s a woman. And women have minds of their own.’
    That night when Smiler made his late-night barn visit, he looked up at the dim shadow of Fria sitting on her beam and, since there was no one around to hear him, he said aloud, ‘All right, you old bird up there, you start doing something for yourself – and I’ll help you all I can.’
    It was from that day that Smiler started to keep a diary. It was a secret diary which he began for a variety of reasons. He wanted to keep a record of all that might happen to Fria. He felt, too, that it would be a good exercise in improving his English.
    His first entry read:
February 2nd. (I think). Started this diary at Bullaybrook Farm, N. Devon. Fria belongs to me. Though of course she really belongs to herself but I am going to help and also get some books from the travelling County Library about peregrine falcons which in a way will be like helping in my vet studies. Windy night, some rain. The Duchess is O.K. So is Dad. So is Laura. And in a way so is Sandra. Bob says he can guess who did the barn job, but he won’t tell me.

4. Two Under Instruction
    During the next few days Fria was content to stay on her beam except for the times when she flew down to the loft ledge to eat or drink. Jimmy Jago came back to the farm for a couple of days and when Smiler showed him the falcon, he said, ‘Well, as long as she stays there she’s safe from any farmer’s gun. If I were you, too, Sammy, I wouldn’t say anything about her to anyone. Somebody around here doesn’t like us, lad. They might take a crack at her.’
    â€˜What I’m hoping,’ said Smiler, ‘ is that she’ll pluck up courage and learn to fly properly and look after herself.’
    Jimmy cocked an eye at him. ‘And then what? Find a mate and raise a brood? That’s what she should do but there’s no chance of that. The falcons are dying out. There might be the odd pair out on the cliffs around Baggy Point but the breed is going and human beings are responsible. She might be happier free – but she’d be much safer in a cage.’
    â€˜If you had the chance, Mr Jago, and could catch her – would you put her back in a cage?’
    Jimmy chuckled. ‘ Good question. And the answer is – no. How often have you seen me go into the barn?’
    â€˜Not often.’
    â€˜That’s because I don’t like to see anything caged up. The Duchess and I never quarrel about anything but that – things shut up in cages. No, I’m with you – give her a chance and, if she takes it, good luck to her.’
    From the County Library van, Smiler got some books on birds and read all about the peregrine falcons and, his interest roused, he got other books and began to understand something of the way the wild creatures of his country had to fight for their existence against the sometimes deliberate and sometimes careless ways that men put their lives in jeopardy. And, because he was determined to be a vet one day, through his reading he made himself understand the careless ways in which death came to many birds because of the poisonous chemicals used in pesticides which were eaten on dressed seeds or contaminated insects by the small birds, and passed on to the predators like the hawks, owls and peregrine falcons when they ate their