The girls rambled on, thoroughly enjoying the coolness of the shade and the beauty of the wood.  As Beatrice had prophesied, when they reached the foot of the incline they came across quite a good-sized pool, with reeds and iris growing on its banks.  They rejoiced exceedingly.

Now it is one thing to wash one’s hair in a bath or a basin, but quite another to perform that operation in a pond with shallow muddy edges.  The girls took off their shoes and stockings, tucked up their skirts and waded into the middle, where they made gallant efforts at dipping and rinsing their heads, and contrived to get uncommonly wet in the process.  They wrung out their dripping tresses, mopped them with handkerchiefs (for nobody had dared to take a towel), and spread them out over their shoulders to dry.  There was an open glade close by, where they could squat in the sunshine, and let the breeze help the process.  Mary had had the forethought to put a comb in her pocket and she lent it round in turns.  They were sitting in a row, like five mermaids, extremely complacent and satisfied with themselves, when footsteps suddenly crashed through the wood, and a middle-aged man approached them.  For once Beatrice’s calculations were wrong.  The gamekeeper had not yet enlisted.  No doubt he would have been far better employed in the trenches somewhere in France, but here he was, still in England, and looking extremely surly and truculent.

“You’ve no business to be in this wood,” he began.  “Can’t you read the trespass notices?  There’s plenty of them about.  What do you mean by coming in here, disturbing the pheasants?”

“We aren’t doing any harm!” protested Olave.

“That’s neither here nor there.  You’ve no business here, and you know it!  Are you from that camp up the hill?”

“Yes.”

“Then take yourselves off at once—­spreading small-pox!”

“We’ve none of us had small-pox!” returned Beatrice indignantly.  “We’ve told you we weren’t doing any harm.  Still, if this will make things right——­” and she slipped half-a-crown into his hand.

The gamekeeper’s expression changed considerably, and his tone instantly became more respectful.

“Well, young ladies, I have to do my duty, and of course you understand the pheasants mustn’t be disturbed anyhow.  Perhaps you won’t mind going back to the Camp now.  I’ll show you a path that will take you into the lane.”

He led the way, and the girls followed in subdued silence, feeling rather crestfallen.  Mollie was yearning to tell him that he ought to be doing his duty by his country instead of by the pheasants.  If at that moment she could have found a white feather, I believe she would have presented it to him.  The path ended in a small gate which he unlocked.  He ushered them solemnly into the lane, pointed out a trespass notice that was nailed conspicuously on to a tree, and then retired into the fastnesses of the wood.  The girls decided that, unless actually compelled, they would not divulge where they had been.