Knock Three Times!. Marion St. John Webb
for the search. “I wish I could give you some magic charm to defend you against the Pumpkin,” she said. “But that is impossible. The Black Leaf is the only thing that can harm him, and save us all. Be very careful, dear children.... Ah!” she broke off with a sharp exclamation.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried Jack and Molly, as Old Nancy stood gazing at her left hand which she held out in front of her.
“So that’s how it was done,” she cried. “Look! Look!” and she held her hand toward them. A dark grey mark stained the middle finger from base to tip.
“What is it?” Molly repeated.
“The stain,” whispered Old Nancy excitedly, “do you see? It’s grey! The Grey Pumpkin’s mark! It was one of his spies then, who made me sleep through the sunset hour. But why to-day should they have been able to do this, when they have been powerless for so long?” she muttered to herself. “Could anything have happened to the Pumpkin in—in your world, that enabled him to exert his evil magic all the way into our world, and so the spies were able to begin their black magic again? Can you think of anything that happened?” she asked Molly eagerly.
Molly tried hard to think of something. “Of course, as it was a pincushion—I stuck a pin in it,” she said presently.
Old Nancy gazed at her strangely. “In the moonlight?” she asked. “Was the moonlight shining on it when you stuck the pin in?”
“Yes,” said Molly, nervously. “Oh, did that do it? Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry—then it is all my fault that the Pumpkin has returned?”
“No, no,” said Old Nancy, “you are not to blame. How were you to know? It was my fault for not being more careful, then they could not have drugged me.” She crossed quickly to the window. “Yes—see—here—here on the sill. There’s a trace of grey powder. I know what has happened. When I went out of this room earlier in the evening—I did for a few minutes, I remember—yes, just before sunset time—someone must have opened the window and scattered the powder on the sill, hoping that I should go to the window at sunset and that I should put my hand on the sill and touch the powder. And I did. And the powder must have been magic and made me go to sleep. I wonder I never noticed it.... But never mind now, never mind now.... It is too late. We must get to work at once to remedy the evil.”
But Molly still had a feeling that it was partly her fault and she was glad that she and Jack had decided to stay. She felt it was the least they could do—to try to find the Black Leaf.
As Glan had not returned they decided to start out, for the hour was getting late, and Old Nancy thought it would be wiser for them to be inside the City as soon as possible. She told them that they were almost sure to meet Glan on the hill—he had evidently been delayed—they couldn’t miss him.
“Good-bye, dears, good-bye,” said Old Nancy. “My thoughts will be constantly with you till we meet again. Good luck go with you both.”
Leaving Old Nancy standing in the doorway, with the firelight glowing warmly in the room behind her, the two children started out in the dusk and began to ascend the hill.
CHAPTER VII
Glan Opens the Gate in the Nick of Time
THE children walked briskly, glancing from the City lights to the dark woods on either side of the road. Everything lay quiet and peaceful, and overhead the moon was now visible. It seemed impossible to believe that a cloud of fear hung over the City ahead. As they drew nearer the top of the hill the sound of a bell tolling came floating down to their ears.
“What’s that for, I wonder,” said Molly.
“P’raps it’s a sort of warning,” suggested Jack, “to tell people the Pumpkin’s back again.”
Molly shivered. “Let’s hurry a bit more, shall we?” she said. “I’ll be glad when we’re inside the City, won’t you, Jack?”
So they quickened their footsteps.
“I do hope we meet Glan,” Molly went on. “We couldn’t very well miss him, though, could we?… You’re sure you’ve got your Pass safely!”
“Rather,” said Jack. “At least I think I put it back in my satchel.” And diving his hand in to make sure, he jerked the envelope which contained the Pass out on to the road. A passing breeze caught it and turned it over and over on the ground, and there was a hurried scramble on Jack’s part to get it back again. He had just put it safely back in his satchel, when a sudden cry from Molly made him wheel round to see what was the matter.
Molly was standing gazing down the hill. “Oh, Jack! Jack! Look!” she cried, pointing to the dark wood on their left. About thirty yards away down the hill, something was slowly emerging from the black shadows of the trees.
It was the Grey Pumpkin.
It rolled leisurely out into the moonlit road, paused for a moment, then turned and moved up the hill toward them.
“Don’t be ashamed to run,” Old Nancy had said. And they were not ashamed. Jack and Molly took to their heels and ran. They did not want to be stopped by the Pumpkin at the very beginning of their quest, knowing how powerless they were until the Black Leaf was found. So they ran with all their might, on, on, until the City Gate was but a little farther ahead of them, and the tolling bell clanged loudly from within.
“Jack, oh, Jack—I—can’t—run—any—more,” gasped poor Molly. “Oh—what—what shall—we—do?”
“Were just there—keep—up—old girl—only a—little—bit more—we’re—just—there,” panted Jack.
With a final effort they rushed forward and reached the gate at last. Jack flung himself against it and started beating on it with his fists, and then snatching up a large stone from the road he hammered it with that; while Molly seized the thick bell chain at the side and began pulling it vigorously.
It was a curious gate—more like a door than a gate—made of solid iron; and at the top, high above the children’s heads, was a tiny grating through which the citizens could see who stood without.
Jack glanced despairingly up at the high white walls and the black iron gate, while he continued to beat wildly with the stone and shout as loudly as he could for help. There seemed no way of escape if they did not open the gate, and looking back he saw the Pumpkin coming silently onward.
“It’s no good making a dash for the woods, Molly,” he exclaimed, “he’d cut us off. Pull harder, and shout too.”
So Molly pulled harder at the bell chain and cried out for someone to come and open the gate and let them in.
Suddenly, above the noise they were making and the sound of the tolling bell within, the children heard voices, and a clattering on the other side of the gate. Then a face appeared at the grating.
“Open the gate!” cried Jack. “Quick! Quick! We’ve got a pass. Open the gate and save us!”
A loud murmuring arose within, and they heard the jangling of keys. When all at once a voice shrieked, “Look! Look! On the hill. It’s the Pumpkin! Don’t open the gate! Don’t open the gate, it’s a decoy!”
“It’s not, it’s not,” cried Jack. “Oh, save us, save us. We have got a pass. Let us in and save us from the Pumpkin. For pity’s sake open the gate!”
The voices inside were now loud and angry; the people were evidently not inclined to believe him.
“Oh, Jack, Jack!” screamed Molly. “He’s just behind us, Jack!”
Jack wheeled round and saw to his horror that the Pumpkin was near the top of the hill and close upon them. He was desperate. Raising the stone above his head, he flung it with all his strength at the big, grey, moving thing. There was a dull thud as the stone struck the Pumpkin and sent it back a few paces; but it quickly came to a standstill, and began at once to cover the ground it had lost.
Meanwhile a fresh arrival had come upon the scene behind the gate. In the midst of all the