The Tale of Oat Cake Crag - By Susan Wittig Albert Page 0,47
they reached Raven Hall expeditiously. Rascal made a big show of thanking the major whilst Hyacinth climbed out of the box and hid in the shrubbery. The two met a few moments later and made their way to the footpath that led through the trees of Claife Woods. The nearly full moon was rising over the lake and cast a silvery light, more than enough to see the narrow path that wound through the still-leafless trees. And since both the badger and the dog are accustomed to going about the countryside after dark, they had no trouble at all in finding their way to Lakeshore Manor, where Mr. Baum lived.
The two-story, early Victorian manor house, built of brick and topped with a slate roof, was set on a bluff above the waters of Windermere. Before it, a grassy park sloped steeply to the lake’s edge, where the moon painted a wide swath of silver across the water. Behind it towered the high cliff of Oat Cake Crag. The house was dark and seemed (so Rascal thought) to wear an almost frightened look, as if it were waiting for something.
“No lights,” Hyacinth whispered. “P’rhaps Mr. Baum has already gone to bed.”
“Or he’s gone out and hasn’t returned,” Rascal replied. But where had he gone? Not to the pub, certainly. And they hadn’t met him on the road to the village, or on the path from Raven Hall.
At that moment, there was a stir in a tree on the crag, followed by the ominous crack of a twig. A dark triangular shadow swooped with frightening suddenness down the face of the cliff, exactly like the shape of a falling man.
Hyacinth ducked under a bush, remembering Parsley’s tale about the ghost of a Scottish soldier who had fallen to his death from the crag. Was it the ghost? But Rascal (who had a pretty good idea what was going on) bravely stood his ground.
Without a sound, not even a rustle of wings, the shadow settled in the top of a nearby tree. “Whooo?” inquired the owl’s commanding voice. The great head swiveled from side to side, the amber eyes glaring. “Whooo goooes there, I say! Halt, and identify yourselves!”
“Good evening, Professor,” said the dog in a deferential tone. All of the local animals know that it is well to speak respectfully to the owl, who is quite large and formidable. “It’s Rascal, from the village. And Hyacinth, from Holly How. We hope we haven’t disturbed you.”
“Yooou have not,” the owl said in a kindlier tone, and settled his feathers. To tell the truth, he was rather glad to see Rascal, who had a nose for news and often carried interesting bits of village tattle. “A bit far from home, I’d say. What brings yooou here at this hour of the night?”
“We rode with Major Kittredge,” the dog explained. “Mr. Baum was supposed to come to the meeting at the pub tonight, so people could tell him how they feel about his aeroplane. But he didn’t, and everyone is wondering why. Hyacinth and I thought we would try to find out.”
“That is commendable,” replied the owl. “But I doubt that yooou’ll learn anything. There’s nooobody at hooome. There’s been nooobody at hooome all evening. At least,” he amended, “since I have been here.” He raised his round eyes to the moon. “Which (according tooo the stars, whooose passage I have been observing from my vantage point atop the crag) has been a considerable while. Three hours at least, I shooould say. Venus is now past ten degrees from its meridian and Jupiter has nearly reached its zenith, which is tooo say—”
“Nobody at home?” Hyacinth interrupted, coming out from under the bush. She had never felt it necessary to defer to the owl, whom she viewed as rather a stick-in-the-mud. She was always polite, though, because the Professor was Uncle Bosworth’s friend and, as an older animal, deserving of respect. She was also quite aware that once he had well and truly launched into a lecture on the movement of the stars, they were likely to be here all night.
“That’s odd,” she went on, before the owl could get his second wind. “If Mr. Baum didn’t come to the meeting and he’s not here, where is he?”
The Professor had not liked the idea that a female badger might hold the Holly How Badge of Authority, and when Bosworth had first mentioned the possibility, the owl had opposed the appointment vigorously. He was in fundamental agreement