Explore "Auntie Robbo" by Ann Scott-Moncrieff on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The last hundred yards up the heather-clad slope which led to the Splash were almost too much for Hector. His legs were like to give under him, and his breath came in long strangled gasps, but excitement and fear kept him going. He knew that ordinarily he could never have run so far and so hard. As soon as he saw the tall, green-clad figure of Auntie Robbo, standing straight and motionless on the edge of the lochan, he tried to shout. The wind carried the sound ahead, and Auntie Robbo turned and waved. He stumbled over the last stretch of rough ground, and flung himself down at her feet; his whole body shook and throbbed against the turf.
"I've had the drake right in," said Auntie Robbo triumphantly. "Almost feeding out of my hand! I stood so still I might have been a tree for all he knew. It's wet there, Hector. Come and sit over here on this slab of stone."