William The Outlaw Read Online Free

was Professor Fremlin, one of the greatest geologists in England, you know. Ringers’ Hill’s supposed to be an old volcano crater. It would have been awfully interesting. He was going
to lecture on its formation and show us the strata and fossils there. We’d been reading it up for weeks so as to know something about it. A shame when we’ve got such a decent Geologist
Society for the star turn show of the year to fall flat. Perhaps he was taken ill on the way.’ He turned to the Outlaws. ‘Now then, you kids, what are you hanging about for? Clear
off.’
    Blinking dazedly, walking very, very slowly, very, very thoughtfully, the Outlaws cleared off.

CHAPTER 2
THE TERRIBLE MAGICIAN
    T HE advent of Mr Galileo Simpkins to the village would in normal times have roused little interest in William and his friends. But the summer
holidays had already lasted six weeks and though the Outlaws were not tired of holidays (it was against the laws of nature for the Outlaws ever to tire of holidays), still they had run the gamut of
almost every conceivable occupation both lawful and unlawful, and they were ready for a fresh sensation. They had been Pirates and Smugglers and Red Indians and Highwaymen ad nauseam. They
had trespassed till every farmer in the neighbourhood saw red at the mere sight of them. They had made with much trouble a motor boat and an aeroplane, both of which had insisted on obeying the
laws of gravity rather than fulfilling the functions of motor boats and aeroplanes. They had made a fire in Ginger’s backyard and cooked over it a mixture of water from the stream and
blackberries and Worcester Sauce and Turkish delight and sardines (these being all the edibles they could jointly produce), had pronounced the resultant concoction to be excellent and had spent the
next day in bed. They had taken Jumble (William’s mongrel) ‘hunting’ and had watched the ignominious spectacle of Jumble’s being attacked by a cat half his size and pursued
in a state of abject terror all the length of the village with a bleeding nose. They had discovered a wasps’ nest and almost simultaneously its inhabitants had discovered them. They were only
just leaving off their bandages. They had essayed tightrope walking on Henry’s mother’s clothes line, but Henry’s mother’s clothes line had proved unexpectedly brittle and
William still limped slightly. They had tried to teach tricks to Etheldrida, Douglas’s aunt’s parrot, and Douglas still bore the marks of her beak in several places on his face.
Altogether they were, as I said, ripe for any fresh sensation when Mr Galileo Simpkins dawned upon their horizon.
    Mr Galileo Simpkins had been thus christened by his parents in the hope that he would take to science. And Mr Galileo Simpkins, being by nature ready to follow the line of least resistance, had
obligingly taken to science at their suggestion. Moreover, he quite enjoyed taking to science. He enjoyed pottering about with test tubes and he disliked being sociable. A scientist, as everyone
knows, is immune from sociability. A scientist can retire to his lab as to a fortress and, if he likes, read detective novels there to his heart’s content without being disturbed by anyone.
Not that Mr Galileo Simpkins only read detective novels. He was genuinely interested in Science as Science (he put it that way) and though as yet he had made no startling contribution to Science as
Science, still he enjoyed reading in his textbooks of experiments that other men had made and then doing the experiments to see if the same thing happened in his case. It didn’t always . . .
Fortunately he was not dependent for his living on his scientific efforts. He had a nice little income of his own which enabled him to stage himself as a Scientist to his complete satisfaction. He
took a great interest in the staging of himself as a Scientist. He liked to have an imposing array of test tubes and bottles and appliances of every sort