CHAPTER III

THE SHOCK

One immediate result of Miss Lake's indiscretion was that the children
preferred to play on the other side of the garden, the side farthest
from the Empty House. A spiked railing here divided them from a field in
which cows disported themselves, and as bulls also sometimes were
admitted to the cows, the field was strictly out of bounds.

In this spiked railing, not far from the great shrubberies where the
Indians increased and multiplied, there was a swinging gate. The
children swung on it whenever they could. They called it Express Trains,
and the fact that it was forbidden only added to their pleasure. When
opened at its widest it would swing them with a rush through the air,
past the pillars with a click, out into the field, and then back again
into the garden. It was bad for the hinges, and it was also bad for the
garden, because it was frequently left open after these carnivals, and
the cows got in and trod the flowers down. The children were not afraid
of the cows, but they held the bull in great horror. And these trivial
things have been mentioned here because of the part they played in
Jimbo's subsequent adventures.

It was only ten days or so after Miss Lake's sudden departure when Jimbo
managed one evening to elude the vigilance of his lawful guardians, and
wandered off unnoticed among the laburnums on the front lawn. From the
laburnums he passed successfully to the first laurel shrubbery, and
thence he executed a clever flank movement and entered the carriage
drive in the rear. The rest was easy, and he soon found himself at the
Lodge gate.

For some moments he peered through the iron grating, and pondered on the
seductiveness of the dusty road and of the ditch beyond. To his surprise
he found, presently, that the gate was moving outwards; it was yielding
to his weight. One thing leads easily to another sometimes, and the open
gate led easily on to the seductive road. The result was that a minute
later Jimbo was chasing butterflies along the green lane, and throwing
stones into the water of the ditch.

It was the evening of a hot summer's day, and the butterflies were
still out in force. Jimbo's delight was intense. The joy of finding
himself alone where he had no right to be put everything else out of his
head, and for some time he wandered on, oblivious of all but the
intoxicating sense of freedom and the difficulty of choosing between so
many butterflies and such a magni