The Village Gang of four young boys were becoming increasingly concerned about the group of older and apparently tougher boys who had found their way across the railway line and into the group of fields where the Village gang liked to play. They always thought of this isolated patch of fields bounded by the River and the railway to be their almost exclusive playground rarely visited by the farmer who sometimes kept his cows there. The arrival of the group of boys from the City had shocked them and they were unable to think of how to deal with what they saw as an invasion of their “turf”. What was worse was the City boys making a very comfortable den in one of the hedgerows near the railway. But others had also found these fields.
In this story Roddy and Peter, when returning from visiting Albert and exploring his new boat and having seen Dora home to her caravan in the gypsy encampment, decide on the spur of the moment to go and check on their den . After finding no sign of intruders there, they push on to see if anyone is at the den of the City boys. Awaiting them is an unexpected and surprisingly funny encounter.
Back in the Lane, they were just about to turn toward home when Peter hesitated and began to crane his neck to look beyond the trees toward their den.
Something told him that the boys he had seen making the very risky crossing the railway lines, were set about making mischief. Why else would they try to cross the River and the railway line when there was such a high tide? They could have come back another day when the tide was favorable or at a time it when the tide was low. But they seemed determined to press on and get across the line even though it was risky to do it that way. The wagon sidings were full, and they would have to duck and squirm their way through four lines of trucks and then they would have to wait until the coast was clear and sprint over the main running tracks. The signalman in his box had a pretty good view in three directions, up and down the track as well as across the tracks and the sidings to the Lamby. He could easily spot several boys sprinting across the main lines and as he had a telephone, he would be able to call the railway police about it. Peter knew that the railway police would not come straightaway, but they would come another time and investigate, and if they saw children around, even if they were not on the railway line they would come after them with lots of questions. He also wondered if they kept watch for trespassers from the signal box. If they did and given a pair of good binoculars, they would easily be able to identify the children and perhaps catch them the next time they tried to cross the River by using the footpath on the railway bridge.
With all of these thoughts running around in his head he decided that it was time to check on their den.
“Roddy, before we go home, I think we should go and look at the den. I was thinking about the City gang boys crossing the railway and taking such a risk. They could see that the usual way under the railway bridge was difficult because of the very high tide, but it didn’t seem to stop them. I just have a feeling that they were bound on some mischief or other. Why else would they take such a big chance?”
Roddy nodded at Peter. “I think you’re right. There was something in the way they were behaving that set off an alarm for me too.”
Peter had been skeptical about the City Gang at first, as he had not seen them as much as his friend had. Also, he had not been there that time when Roddy had eavesdropped on their conversation. But now he was becoming more concerned as he knew that they were coming across the River more frequently and he didn’t understand why. After all they must have lots of places in which to play on their side of the River. Why go to all the bother and risk of coming across to these fields.
Peter led the way through the fields toward their den. They moved cautiously and kept close to the hedgerows just in case any of the boys from the City gang were wandering around. Approaching their den, they slowed their pace and began to look carefully around; but still no sign of the interlopers.
Following the hedgerow in which the den was hidden, Peter began to scan the ground for any signs of others being there before them. He noticed that the grass was quite crushed in places and in a few bare spots there seemed to be the impression of shoes. Despite watching lots of films about Indian scouts following obscure trails across the trackless wastes of the American desert, Peter was not at all practiced in the art of reading the vegetation for signs that people had passed that way. He had some vague understanding of the theory but had never had much practice. Nevertheless, he persisted in carefully looking for signs in the grass and the muddy patches beside the hedge. As they neared the den, he noticed that the grass was very heavily trampled, and he felt sure that several people must have been here. He turned and pointed to the trampled ground. Approaching the entrance to the den their concern heightened, as they were beginning to feel sure that someone had found it and that someone was most probably one of the City Gang, as they must have been nosing around the fields and hedgerows looking for signs of other children. However, when they reached the entrance to the den the tracks in the grass and in the occasional muddy patch that showed a footprint, continued on. Incredibly, whoever it was that made the tracks, had not noticed the den entrance.
Peter turned to Roddy with a look of mixed surprise and relief. “How did they miss it?”
They stood back and carefully scanned the old hedgerow for any other signs. None were visible but what they did notice was that the fast-growing weeds and other plants that they had encouraged to grow near the entrance were now quite thick and effectively hid the opening in the hedge that led into the den itself. Roddy’s idea, inspired by his reading of Robinson Crusoe, had paid off. It was lucky that when they brought Dora to see the den that very morning, they had taken great care to not disturb anything. Also, it was a lucky chance that none of the other members of the Gang had come by that day and disturbed the camouflaged entrance, as that would have surely given it away.
“It was a good thing that we took such great care to hide the entrance to the den,” he said, I don’t think they know that we even exist and that is amazing. However, we know that they exist and because they make so much noise we know where their den is. Let’s go and see it but we have to be careful in case they are still there.”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. This had all the elements of a good adventure and so far, the advantage lay with the Village gang. Slowly and with great care they moved on along the hedgerow to a break that allowed them to get into the other field. The den of the rival gang was in the small field beyond this one and close to the railway and to the track that led to the railway bridge and the route across the River. Peter signaled to his friend to follow him and he led the way along the hedge. In the next hedge there was a narrow gap by one of the many oaks that grew in the middle of the hedges and acted like anchors to the adjacent vegetation. Squeezing through the gap, they stopped to scan the field for any signs of the other boys.
All was clear and they continued toward the rival’s den. Roddy could now see why Peter had chosen to come this way as further along was a small clump of trees and bushes that would act as good cover, allowing them to get close enough to the den to listen for any noises that would tell them if someone was there. Onward they crept, trying hard not to tread on any twigs that would snap and alert someone. Peter was the first to reach the trees, but he was not as familiar with the rival’s den as Roddy, so he waited until they were both crouched beneath the shelter of some bushes that were growing within the trees of the small coppice.
“Where is it from here,” whispered Peter in a low, husky voice that Roddy had never heard him use before.”
He pointed and indicated the base of the tree adjacent to the den entrance. They moved forward very slowly, stopping frequently to listen for any voices or other sounds. Nothing! They reached the edge of the trees and there were just a few yards of grass that separated them from the den entrance, which was not at all well-hidden. Those boys didn’t care about hiding anything. It was as if they thought that they were the only people around in these fields and that they had no fear of discovery. There were tracks everywhere and the entrance itself was muddy where the passing of many feet had worn away the grass. In contrast the entrance to their own den was still covered in grass as they used a branch, which they lay upon the grass when they were going in and out. The branch protected the grass and prevented it from being trampled and when they were finished they dragged it away to a place further along the hedgerow and just left it there beneath a tree, looking like another branch blown down in one of the many winter gales that scoured the trees and hedges for half of the year it seemed. Everything was quiet and there was no sign of any movement.
“Do you think they have already left?” whispered Peter.
Pushing his head out very cautiously, Roddy looked around while listening very carefully. A fast train went thundering by on the nearby tracks and he had to wait until silence once again settled over the fields and hedgerows.
“I can’t hear a thing. I do believe that they must have left; though why they only came here for such a short time is a mystery. Having come all that way and taken the risks they did in crossing the railway lines, you would think that they would stay around for a while. Let’s go and take a look at their den.”
The two moved forward toward the den entrance being careful to keep alert for signs of any of the City gang. As they neared the den entrance they had to skirt around the patch of trampled and muddied grass. Roddy looked at Peter and pointed at the muddy tracks that led straight to the den entrance and shook his head. Peter gave a nod and a smile. He knew that Roddy was only trying to make a point to justify all of his lectures about keeping their own den hidden.
Reaching the entrance to the den, Peter signaled to his pal to walk very softly, before bending almost double and cautiously leading the way through the leafy tunnel that led through the outer part of the hedge into the hollow centre that contained the den.
They were trying hard to be as quiet as possible by carefully placing their feet when suddenly Peter stopped and urgently signaled to his friend to be still. From inside the den came a strange sound. Holding their breath, they listened intently. The sound stopped and it was silent again for a while, but they dared not move. Someone or something was in the den. It did not sound like an animal or a bird moving through the hedgerow though it did sound a little like rustling.
Just as Peter was about to move forward and signal Roddy to follow; the sound came again. It was definitely a rustling sound but there was something familiar to it. Peter turned to Roddy and they mouthed silent words at each other. This was a method that they used a lot when they did not want others to overhear them. By carefully mouthing words to one another they could communicate perfectly well while others could not overhear them or understand what they were saying unless they could see their lips exaggerating the words. No likelihood of that here, so they carefully mouthed the words at one another without making a sound.
“Someone is there,” mouthed Peter.
“Yes, I can hear but there may only be one,” Roddy mouthed back.
“Let’s go and see; quiet!” mouthed Peter.
Peter made downward motions with his hand and put a finger to his mouth to signal the need for silence, then turned and continued to move forward in small, soft-treading steps. Suddenly the sound came again only this time there was the rustling sound followed by a choking snort. The two boys started and froze. The sound they were hearing was indeed a very familiar one. It was the sound of someone snoring softly. Roddy heard it frequently if he woke in the night. It was similar to, if much softer than the sound of his father snoring. That was a gale of sound punctuated by periods of complete silence followed by sudden snorts and grunts before the rhythmic sawing sound of his snores began again. This snoring was not nearly so violent, more of a soft susurration of heavy breathing interrupted by sudden grunting and choking sounds, and then silence until the soft snoring began again.
Whoever was in the den was fast asleep and strangely it did not sound at all like the sleeping noises made by a young person. Both boys knew that sound as sometimes one of their companions would fall asleep in the den after a really vigorous game of football or of hide and seek. No, this was definitely not one of the young members of the City gang.
Cautiously Peter resumed his careful reconnoiter, slowly moving forward until finally he was through the tunnel-like entrance and he could see the entire den. There, lying on the pieces of carpet strewn over the ground was something that looked like a bundle of rags. Roddy came up behind Peter and peered over his shoulder. As they tried to identify what it was, suddenly their noses were assailed by a foul smell and turning to one another, they made similar wrinkly-nosed faces of disgust. It was a compound of the sour smell of old unwashed bodies and overlying it was a sweeter sharper smell that they could not identify. Beside the bundle of rags that occasionally twitched and shuddered, lay an empty bottle with a label depicting a pirate on it. Roddy had seen that label before, and he desperately tried to remember where.
Peter spoke first. “This is some old tramp that has found their den. He must have seen them leaving and that’s how he knew how to get in. Cor! What a stink.”
The latter remark was so loud that the bundle of rags rumbled to life and the snoring noises stopped. Suddenly, from one end of the pile of rags a face emerged that was unlike any face that they were familiar with. It was more or less the colour of deep mahogany; a dark brown that was streaked with what looked like dirt. The eyes opened and they were in shocking contrast to the mahogany face, as they were a striking blue-grey colour.
A slash of red suddenly appeared and from it there came a deep gravelly voice.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here disturbing my sleep. Are you the little buggers that I saw leaving this little nest here? Come back to claim it for yourselves, have you? Well you’re too bloody late so bugger off and leave me sleep.”
Both boys were so surprised by this talking apparition that looked like a pile of rags that they temporarily lost the power of speech. Roddy was the first to find his voice.
“No, we’re not those boys at all. Who are you and what are you doing here in these fields? How did you get here and what are you doing? Are you going to live here?”
“Nah,” said the raggedy bundle that was now slowly taking on the form of a man who seemed to be dressed in so many layers of clothes that he bulged everywhere as if his body was trying to burst free, “this place will be no bloody good if it rains, those bits of tin that you kids have put up there will be useless in a good rain. I just need a quiet place to have a good sleep and a rest, that’s all. So, if this little nook isn’t yours, what are you doing here?”
“It was made by some other boys who don’t live near here and we wanted to see if they were still around when we heard you snoring and found you.”
Peter was crouching in front of Roddy and he pointed at the empty bottle, “What’s that? Have you been drinking?”
“What of it if I have? That’s none of your business, little nosy parkers. Now why don’t you just bugger off and leave this old gentleman in peace.”
“You can’t just stay here; those boys will be back soon. We’ve seen them around and we think that they are a pretty tough gang and they could make you miserable by teasing you.”
Roddy looked at Peter in surprise. What would Peter care if they came back and found the old tramp. It was none of their business and this old fellow was big enough to take care of himself. He had already noticed that the tramp had a sack with him and that he also had a pretty sturdy looking walking stick. It was shiny with use and it had a crook shaped handle and the bottom was encased in brass so as to protect it from scuffing. If those boys gave him any trouble, he could use that to defend himself and it was probably heavier and stronger than anything that they would have with them.
Just then there was an ominous sound of a fart and a sort of bubbling, squittering liquid sound. Almost immediately, the den was filled with a nasty smell. They looked at one another and wrinkled their noses. It was a sickeningly horrible smell and it was beginning to overwhelm them. Both boys looked at the tramp who was now cursing and swearing to himself and struggling to get up from his reclining position but having a hard time doing so. They realized that the smell must be coming from him, but it was no ordinary smell such as happened when someone in the gang had bad wind and farted. No, this was much worse, and it dawned on them that this tramp was so drunk that he had lost control of his sphincter and had done a stinky poo in his pants.
The face looking out from the smelly bundle of rags took on a look of embarrassment. “Now look what you little pests have made me do. Waking a man out of a deep sleep like that is a shock to the old constitution. Now I have to take care of myself, so bugger off quick.”
Peter made a retching sound and backed up toward the entrance to the den quickly followed by his pal. Neither wanted to stay in the cloying stink of the den for a minute longer. Holding their breath as much as possible, they crawled backwards down the narrow tunnel through the undergrowth ignoring the thorns and the few stinging nettles that were in their way. Getting out of that den with its overpoweringly awful stench was more important than a few scratches and stings. At last, they were outside but the smell was still with them and for a few horrible moments they thought that somehow they had picked up some of his poo on their shoes or clothing and they began to frantically lift their feet and twist their heads to check the soles of their shoes, but luckily all was clear.
Without even bothering to keep themselves hidden they ran to the clump of trees in which they had been hiding just a short while ago when they were scouting the fields for any sign of the City gang. Once in the shelter of the trees they stopped and looked back. The smell was no longer with them and it seemed that they did not have it on their clothes or shoes. Peter took a deep breath and as he let it out of his lungs he began to laugh, a combination of relief and the comic. The laugh came in great gusts and so wracked his body that he sank to his knees and put his hands on the ground before him to prevent himself falling over during one of the laughing spasms that were shaking his body.
“Wait, ahh, ahh, wait till they come back to their den, ahh, ahh. The smell will kill them.”
Another great gale of laughter shook him, and his arms gave way and he fell to the ground in another great seismic spasm of laughter. Roddy began to laugh as well as the joke became clear and also at the sight of Peter who was now in the midst of an uncontrollable laughing fit.
“We could not have done it better ourselves,” continued Peter between sobbing laughs, “ even if we had collected up cow patties and thrown them into their den, the smell would not have been as bad as the one made by that old tramp, and they could have cleaned out cow pats in a few hours. No, this smell is going to linger for a long while and they won’t be able to go anywhere near that den for quite a few weeks and even when they are able to get in, they will have to clean up some mess. That old tramp just shit himself badly, probably because of all that rum he had drunk.” Slowly his laughter subsided and Roddy, who was also consumed with laughter, began to gain control. Still every so often they would once again think of that smell and how they had reacted and they would once immediately dissolve into fits of uncontrollable laughter, the sort that makes you cry tears and causes you to dribble copiously while fighting for breath.
“So that’s what was in that bottle. I thought it looked familiar. I think I have seen some at home around Christmas time.”
“Yes, it was rum,” said Peter. “I was trying to work out what that sweet cloying smell was when we first entered the den? My dad likes to drink that in the wintertime. It looks like that old guy had drunk the entire bottle. No wonder he had an accident. That’s a lot of drink for one person. I know he is smelly and nasty, but I could not help but feel sorry for the man; how would you feel if you poo’d your pants in front of two strange boys?
The picture conjured up by Peter’s words took a little time to soak in but when it did it brought on another fit of explosive laughter from the two of them. It took a while for them to settle down. Looking back at the den they had just left they could see that parts of the hedge were shaking violently and soon the old tramp, sack in hand, emerged and stumbled toward the old flooded clay pit. He must have decided that he needed to clean himself up.
“Come on,” said Roddy. “I don’t really want to stay around and watch that foul man clean himself up. Just looking at him reminds me of that awful, overpowering stench. Let’s get back home.”
They turned and left the shelter of the small copse, crossed the field, ducked back through the hedge and began the walk back to the Lane. Peter led and Roddy, who was following noticed that every so often, there would be another shaking of Peter’s shoulders.
He turned his head back to Roddy.
“Wait ‘til we tell the others about this. This story is going to keep us laughing for months?”
Roddy smiled back at him. Yes, indeed it was a great joke, though that sickening smell was so vile, so horrible, that it would linger in his nostrils for a long time. Of that he was sure. What he wasn’t so sure about was the effect on the City gang. They would certainly be shocked at the smell that would linger in their den for a long time, but would they associate the smell with the tramp? He had said that he saw them leave their den and that is how he found the entrance, but he did not say that they had seen him. When they next visited their den they would be surprised at the lingering smell, but whom would they blame; not the tramp, as they didn’t know that he even existed and unless the old tramp left some of his soiled clothes there, they would not even suspect something like that. They would start searching for a culprit and they just might find his Gang’s den. It was amazing that they had not found out about them during all this time. Surprisingly, they only seemed to be interested in themselves and had not even noticed that there was another den just a few hundred yards away. Also, why did they seemingly take a great risk in crossing the railway lines only to spend a very short time at their den? Did they decide to turn back when confronted with the high tide? The more that Roddy thought about all of this the more perplexed he became. They needed to be more alert about these interlopers, and they needed to be even more careful to protect the den and keep it well camouflaged.
LAMBY MEMORIES 