Mystery of the Hidden House by Enid Blyton

Author:Enid Blyton [Blyton, Enid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-07-15T22:07:49+00:00

A Little Portry

Ern was not told anything about the walk to the wood. He wanted to know, however, what were the steps that Fatty was going to take in the mystery of Christmas Hill.

“Well,” said Fatty, looking mysterious, “word has come to me that a big robbery will be done in the next few days, and that the robbers on Christmas Hill will hide the loot in the old mill.”

Ern’s eyes almost dropped out of his head. “Coo!” he said, and couldn’t say any more.

“The thing is - who’s going to look for the loot after the robbery?” said Fatty, seriously. “I can’t let any of the others, because they’re forbidden to do things like looking for loot - and at the moment I’ve other things in hand - tracking down the kidnappers, for instance.”

“Coo,” said Ern again, in awe. An idea shone brilliantly in his mind. “Fatty! Why don’t you let me find the loot? I could go and search the old mill for you. Lovaduck! I’d be awfully proud to find the swag.”

“Well - I might let you,” said Fatty. He turned to the others. “What about it, Find-Outers? Shall we let him in on this and give him a chance of finding the loot? After all, he did a lot of hard work finding those clues.”

“Yes. Let him,” said the others, generously, and Ern beamed and glowed. Whatever next! This was life, this was - creeping out at dead of night - hunting for clues up on the hill next day - and now searching for hidden loot. What exciting lives the Find-Outers led! Ern felt honoured to belong to their company. He felt he could write a “pome” about it all. A line came into his head.

“The dire dark deeds upon the hill.” What a wonderful beginning to a “pome.” Ern took out his portry notebook and wrote down the line before he could forget it.

“See that?” he said triumphantly to the others. “The dark dire deeds upon the hill. That’s the beginning of a new pome. That’s real portry, that is.”

“The dark dire deeds upon the hill

Strike my heart with a deadly chill,”

began Fatty.

“The robbers rob and the looters loot,

We’d better be careful they don’t all shoot,

They’re deadly men, they’re fearful foes,

What end they’ll come to, nobody knows!

Oooh, the dark dire deeds upon the hill

Strike my heart with a deadly chill!”

This poem was greeted with shrieks of delighted laughter by all the Find-Outers, even Buster joining in the applause. Fatty had reeled it off without stopping.

Only Ern didn’t laugh. He listened solemnly, with open mouth, to Fatty’s recitation, admiration literally pouring out of him.

“Fatty! You’re a reel genius. Why, you took my first line and you made up the whole pome without stopping. I’d never have thought of all that, if I’d sat down the whole day long.”

“Ah - that’s the secret,” said Fatty, wickedly. “You don’t sit down - you must stand up and it comes. Like this:

“Oh have you heard of Ernie’s clues.

Ernie’s

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