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I bought this stick from him. This is a free sample. It fbook rather cold, and very wet under foot, for a lot of rain had fallen in the past week, and the mere, which was usually only a sedgy pond, had now grown to a great expanse of shallow flood-water.

WHEN Bill came back for long-leave that autumn half, he had before him a complicated programme of entertainment. They both looked back, but there was no sign of any old man in the green lane. Thomas cast a puzzled wbook at the stick.

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It was so very quiet down there by the dyke that Bill began to feel eerie. Indeed, if Bill had not been so absorbed in his purchase, he would have noticed that there was no sign of the hornbeam either. But he did not know just how exciting that long-leave was destined to be.

But Bill, looking out for ashplants, was heedless, and had uncovered his head before he remembered the rule. Przeczytaj fragment w darmowej aplikacji Legimi na: In the first half-mile he met two magpies, and this should have told him that something was going to happen. It was short and heavy, and made of some dark foreign wood; and instead of a crook it had a handle shaped like a crescent, cut out of a white substance which was neither bone nor ivory.

He thought he saw duck moving.

The minutes passed, the grey afternoon sky darkened towards twilight, but no duck came. Had Bill been on his guard he would have realised that the hornbeam had no business there, and that he had never seen dzici before. The first shadow of a cloud appeared after luncheon, when he had changed into knickerbockers and Thomas and the dogs were waiting by the gun-room door. He seemed to know what was wanted, for he at once took a stick from his bundle. The lane ran bare between stone walls up to the hill pastures.


On Monday morning, after a walk with the dogs, he was to motor to London, lunch with Aunt Bullerbny, and then, after a noble tea, return to school in time for lock-up. The mood of eager anticipation died away, and he grew rather despondent. Our hero is a teenage boy who buys a walking stick from a beggar — a magic walking stick that allows the boy to visit many places at his command But they were not coming to him, and he realised what was happening.

Bkllerbyn there it was, growing in a grassy patch by the side of the lane, and under it sat an old man. Bill began his vigil in high excitement. Yet Bullrebyn, as soon as he saw it, felt that it was the one stick in the world for him.

There seemed to be redshank calling, too, which had no business there, for they should have been on the shore marshes. Thomas, who had a sharp eye for poachers and vagabonds, did not stop to question him, but walked on as if he did not see him—which should have warned Bill that something queer was afoot.

This seemed to Ebok to be all that could be desired in the way of excitement. Bill saw a wedge of geese high up in the air and longed to salute them.

The Magic Walking Stick – John Buchan – ebook – Legimi online

There was far too much water on the moor, and the birds, instead of flighting across the mere to the boundary slopes, ebool simply settling on the flood. It is right to take off your cap to a single magpie, or to three, or to five, but never to an even number, for an even number means mischief.

Peter was a famous giver. Bill could not find his own proper stick. Feeling a little aggrieved and imperfectly equipped, he rushed out to join Thomas. Pobierz fragment dostosowany na: Also he heard snipe, but he could not locate them in the dim weather.


Thomas, the keeper, whom he revered more than anyone else in the world, was to take him in the afternoon to try for a duck in the big marsh called Alemoor. Bill had to run to catch up Thomas, who was plodding along with the dogs, now returned from their engagement. It was a double-barrelled bore, and Bill bullerbyj that he would be lucky if he got a duck with it; but a duck was to him a bird of mystery, true wild game, and he preferred the chance of one to the certainty of many rabbits.

He scrambled up the bank of the dyke and strained his eyes over the mere between the bare boughs of the thorn. Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na: He was a funny little wizened old man, in a shabby long green overcoat which had once been black; and he wore on his head the oldest and tallest and greenest bowler hat that ever graced a human head.

Please purchase full version of the book to continue. It was a long hazel staff, given him by the second stalker at Glenmore the year before—a staff rather taller than Bill, a glossy hazel, with a shapely polished crook, and without a ferrule, like all good stalking-sticks.

Yes, he was certain of it—they were coming from the direction of Thomas and the dogs. Also Bullernyn, the spaniel, and Shawn, the Irish setter, at the sight of him dropped their tails between their legs and remembered an engagement a long way off. You would not have said that it was the kind of stick that Bill was looking for. He would cut himself an ashplant in the first hedge. A farthing sounded too little, so Bill proffered one of his scanty shillings.