The Railway Children - E. Nesbit

“Well, I have a pigeon, then; at least Daddy told me they did. Only it was
under their wings and not round their necks, but it comes to the same thing, and
—”
“I say,” interrupted Bobbie, “there's to be a paperchase to-morrow.”
“Who?” Peter asked.
“Grammar School. Perks thinks the hare will go along by the line at first. We
might go along the cutting. You can see a long way from there.”
The paperchase was found to be a more amusing subject of conversation than
the reading powers of swallows. Bobbie had hoped it might be. And next
morning Mother let them take their lunch and go out for the day to see the
paperchase.
“If we go to the cutting,” said Peter, “we shall see the workmen, even if we
miss the paperchase.”
Of course it had taken some time to get the line clear from the rocks and earth
and trees that had fallen on it when the great landslip happened. That was the
occasion, you will remember, when the three children saved the train from being
wrecked by waving six little red-flannel-petticoat flags. It is always interesting to
watch people working, especially when they work with such interesting things as
spades and picks and shovels and planks and barrows, when they have cindery
red fires in iron pots with round holes in them, and red lamps hanging near the
works at night. Of course the children were never out at night; but once, at dusk,
when Peter had got out of his bedroom skylight on to the roof, he had seen the
red lamp shining far away at the edge of the cutting. The children had often been
down to watch the work, and this day the interest of picks and spades, and
barrows being wheeled along planks, completely put the paperchase out of their
heads, so that they quite jumped when a voice just behind them panted, “Let me
pass, please.” It was the hare—a big-boned, loose-limbed boy, with dark hair
lying flat on a very damp forehead. The bag of torn paper under his arm was
fastened across one shoulder by a strap. The children stood back. The hare ran
along the line, and the workmen leaned on their picks to watch him. He ran on
steadily and disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel.
“That's against the by-laws,” said the foreman.
“Why worry?” said the oldest workman; “live and let live's what I always say.
Ain't you never been young yourself, Mr. Bates?”
“I ought to report him,” said the foreman.
“Why spoil sport's what I always say.”