the search. "Would you care to take a look at the site, Mr. Mackay? We'd be glad of your expert opinion."
A faint smile appeared on the lawyer's face. "An intriguing invitation, marm. I accept!"
The old lady turned to Mr. Braithwaite. "We'd value your help if you'd like to come, too, sir."
Scratching his head and pointing to himself, the old scholar grinned like a schoolboy. "Who . . . er, me? Oh, I
say, rather, lead on, er, good lady, lead on, er, please do!"
It was a curious team that trooped out of the solicitor's office, heading toward Chapelvale Station. Obadiah
Smithers and his wife, Clarissa, had emerged from their carriage in the village square, she intent on shopping and he
intending to go to Mr. Mackay's office. Seeing the lawyer piling into Will Drum-mond's cart with the others, Smithers
hastened across to him, waving the latest compulsory purchase notice, whilst holding on to his top hat.
"Hold up there, Mackay. Where the deuce d'you think you're going? I was just about to consult you!"
Mr. Mackay did not like Smithers. He considered the fellow an overbearing bully, and he stared officiously
down from the gig at him. "Consult me without a prior appointment, sir? I'm afraid it's out of the question. I've got
other business!"
Smithers waved the order. "But what about this, it arrived in this morning's mail. I want it to be pinned up in the
square."
Mr. Mackay glared at Smithers over the top of his pince-nez. "Then fix it up yourself, sir, you look capable
enough. There's a nail and a post for the purpose. You can either leave the present order up, or tear it down to make
room for the new one. As you can see, I have other matters to attend, I bid you good day. Drive on, please, Mr.
Drummond!"
Smithers was left standing red-faced and at a loss for words as the gig pulled off smartly. Mrs. Winn and Eileen
stifled laughter with their kerchiefs. Not so with the other occupants of the dairy cart, they guffawed aloud.
"Well, that put him in his place, eh. Hahahaha!"
"Aye, did you see the face on him, like a beetroot!"
"Look, he's still standing there waving his silly paper. Hahaha!"
Mr. Mackay did not join in the merriment. Polishing his pince-nez, he blinked sternly at his traveling
companions. "I would have liked to see the contents of that order. I fear it will be no laughing matter for Chapelvale,
or you, Miz Winn. We must take a look at it on our return!"
They took the road past the station and over the level crossing. Ned passed a thought to his master as he allowed
Amy to stroke him. "Whatever we're looking for, bet I'm the one who finds it. By the way, what exactly are we
looking for?"
The boy answered. "I don't know, Ned. It's a large, overgrown area near the station we'll have to cover probably.
With an old, carved piece of stick as our only clue. We'll need the help of a good sniffer."
Will halted Delia at Mr. Mackay's command, on what appeared to be a piece of common land, about twenty
yards away from the railway tracks. Jon and Will spread the old map from the farmhouse cottage alongside the
railway property map that Mr. Mackay and Mr. Braithwaite were studying. Eileen, who had left her baby at home
with Will's ma, sat in the gig watching the two boys, while Amy and the black Lab ranged out across the
gorse-covered area. Mr. Mackay pointed to a corner of his boundary map.
"You see, here is the boundary line of the railway property. It ends ten feet away, where Will halted the gig on
that bit of disused path. So this is all common land."
Mr. Braithwaite looked from one map to the other. "Hmmm, this has got to be the, er, place, very good! See the,
er, tree, in the same place on both, er, maps, yes."
Jon pointed to the only tree left standing, on the far side of the common. "What, do you mean that one?"
Mr. Mackay shook his head doubtfully. "Your map is dated 1661. Surely that scruffy old tree hasn't been there
that long?"
Braithwaite was glad to prove himself, not only as a history scholar but as a botanist. "I, er, must take issue with
you on that, sir. Er. Let us take a look at this, hmm, tree."
They trooped over to where Ben and his friends were standing beneath the tree. It was a twisted and venerable
old specimen with a huge, untidy crown of thin leaves that sported red berries. The trunk, a gnarled column, was very
thick, seeming to consist of several thinner trunks welded together by age.
Jon instinctively knew what it was. "This is a yew, there's two growin' back o' the almshouse."
Mr. Braithwaite became very schoolmasterish, wagging a finger at the young people as he lectured them. "Quite
right. Taxus baccata, the common English yew, specimens have been recorded of up to one thousand years old. The
branches of this old tree may have provided the wood for English longbows to fight the French at the Battle of
Agincourt. Jon, hand me that carved piece of wood and your clasp knife, please."
Mr. Braithwaite scraped away at the uncarved side of the wooden stick until clean wood showed, then he
shaved a small section of bark from the trunk to reveal the wood beneath.
"Both common English yew, you see!"
Will smacked his open palm against the tree. "All sounds very good so far, but what're we lookin' for and where
do we search?"
Amy placed both hands on her hips. "Around this tree, I suppose."
Ben sprang and grabbed a spreading limb. "Or maybe up in the tree!" He climbed into the branches.
The others started to search around the base of the yew. Alex soon got tired of the hunt below and with Ben's
help climbed up into the boughs, too. The dog looked up, communicating with his master. "If you fall and break a leg,
don't come running to me!"
After more than a half hour of scanning the trunk and the ground around it, Mrs. Winn gave up and went to sit
in the gig with Eileen.
Will straightened up, holding his back. "Ain't so easy as it first looked. See anything up there, Ben?"
Ben clambered down. "Nothing, Will. As you said, it would help if we knew what we were looking for."
Being shorter than Ben, Alex found descending a bit difficult, but he made his way to the other side of the tree
and found a low branch. Edging onto it, he hung there by both hands, facing the trunk.
The seaman stood beneath, reaching up with both hands. "Come on, mate, let go an' I'll catch ye."
But Alex hung on to the branch, his face toward the trunk, shouting, "I found it! Here it is!"
Ben shot back up the tree like a monkey. Making his way across to Alex, he leaned downward, peering at what
looked like tiny knots sticking from the bark. He gave a joyous whoop. "It's the same pattern as the stick. Well done!"
Will shouted across to his wife. "Eileen, drive the gig over here, beneath this tree!"
32.
STANDING UPRIGHT IN THE LITTLE cart, the four men could easily make out the pattern of marks. Jon
traced them with his finger, then touched the point of his clasp knife to one.
"Metal! They're old horseshoe nails driven into the trunk. The bark has grown over them, but the pattern
remains."
Mr. Mackay dusted dead grass from his trouser knees fussily. "But with one difference, sir, there's an arrow
shape pointing down. That must mean we have to dig down at the yew base, directly where the arrow indicates."
The dairyman backed Delia away from the spot. Grabbing a spade, Will began cutting away the top grass.
"Right about here!" The old ship's carpenter spat on his hands and grabbed another spade from the gig.