At any rate, nobody tried to riddle the three cyclists with bullets, run them off the road, or even stop to pass the time of day. Peter and Miss Binks rendezvoused with Cronkite at a patch of conservation land just outside Whittington and managed to find a big fallen pine with a capacious hollow under the roots where Daisy Belle would have a fair chance of lying undiscovered until they could get back to reclaim her. They even spotted a Blackburnian warbler and made good use of the bird book and Peter's binoculars. But it was high time to part. Dawn was by now fairly broken. Peter rolled down his trouser legs and gave Miss Binks back her aunt's skirt. He kept the spacious green blouse, which looked enough like a man's sport shirt to get by with and was long enough to conceal the indecent ravages to his nether garment. He insisted on knowing what she'd like by way of recompense, and she at last admitted to a hankering for some light summer reading, such as The Brothers Karamazov or the works of Henry James.
