Sentence The Fourhundredandfifteenth

Now, as it happens, unnoticed by all the watchers on Dingleton Hill, who climbed up the path to meet the American Soldiers and Professor Dane, only a girl and boy climbing little Hare Hill, on the

southern side of The Eildons, carrying an empty pail between them, towards the spring thereby, saw four figures emerge from behind thick stands of broom into the sunlight; grappling with the sudden transition into bright day after the darkness underground, they were dazed and disorientated from the compressions caused by the explosions Duncan Doubleday had triggered in the passageways of the cave system when he tossed a live grenade into the storage area where the platoon had stacked their ordnance, principally those grenades and the small rockets they had salvaged as they ran from the split can of their tank all those months ago; Doubleday led George Gill, his ancestor Dominic and Dominic's Master, Sir Parlane MacFarlane down the track which he knew would lead them to

Bowden village and a place of shelter; but he motioned for them the wait as he approached the two children: “hi, kids, are we heading the right way for Ranulph Ochan'toshan – the Photographer? he's an old friend of mine, you know him, yes?” and the girl nodded, smiling: “he gies us sweeties and lets us play wi his toys while he taks picters, div ye want us to show ye?” and she turned to the boy, “Jackie, jist set the pail here, oo'll come back later fur it,” though the boy looked doubtful: “you said Samson needs water,” and the girl, clearly his sister, quickly took charge: “Uncle Ralphy wull gie ye mair sweeties if we tak his freends,” and Jackie brightened: “wull that be okay, Jill, winny mam be fit?” and she laughed: “of course no, ye ken she likes us tae help Uncle Ralphy, and mebbe,” she lowered her voice so that Duncan and the others would still be able to hear her, “his freends might want to gie ye sweeties and things tae,” and Jackie grinned up at them, clearly trying to assess who would give him the most, until he settled on the fair-haired man with a big bump on his head and held his hand out; “fit's yer name?” and the reply, “call me Uncle Parry,” obviously pleased him, because he took the man's hand, and when MacFarlane asked him, in return, “and what does Uncle Ralphy

call you?” the boy winked, saying, “well, 'e cries me Olykoek, sez am 'is wee doughnut, come oan Uncle Parry, this wey,” and, when Uncle Parry commented that the nickname seemed “tres condign,” the boy laughed, “thon's the wey Uncle Ralphy talks, tae,” and taking a firmer grip of MacFarlane's hand, helped Jill to lead them down between the hedgerows, moving more confidently now, swinging their arms with a sense of jubilate at having overcome what must have seemed like the Jaws of Hell and even singing as they strode towards the village and Uncle Ralphy's big house across the road from the school!