"After our experience of yesterday," said Bill Barnacle as the
company of Puddin'-owners set off along the road with their
Puddin', "we shall have to be particularly careful. For what
with low puddin' thieves disguisin' themselves as firemen, and
low Wombats sneakin' our Puddin' while we're helpin' to put out
fires, not to speak of all the worry and bother of tryin' to get
information out of parrots an' bandicoots an' hedgehogs, why,
it's enough to make a man suspect his own grandfather of bein'
a puddin'-snatcher."
"As for me," said Sam Sawnoff, practising boxing attitudes as he
walked along. "I feel like laying out the first man we meet on
the off-chance of his being a puddin'-thief."
"Indeed," observed Bunyip Bluegum, "to have one's noblest
feelings outraged by reposing a too great trust in unworthy
people, is to end by regarding all humanity with an equal
suspicion."
"If you ask my opinion," said the Puddin' cynically, "them
puddin'-thieves are too clever for you; and what's more, they're
better eaters than you. Why," said the Puddin', sneering at Bill,
"I'll back one puddin'-thief to eat more in a given time than
three Puddin'owners put together."
"These are very treacherous sentiments, Albert," said Bill,
sternly. "These are very ignoble and shameless words," but the
Puddin' merely laughed scornfully, and called Bill a bun-headed
old beetle-crusher.
"Very well," said Bill, enraged, "we shall see if a low puddin'
thief is better than a noble Puddin'-owner. When you see the
terrible suspicions I shall indulge in to-day you'll regret
them words."
To prove his words Bill insisted on closely inspecting everybody
he met, in case they should be puddin'-thieves in disguise.
To start off with, they had an unpleasant scene with a Kookaburra,
a low larrikin who resented the way that Bill examined him.
"Who are you starin' at, Poodle's Whiskers?" he asked.
"Never mind," said Bill. "I'm starin' at you for a good an'
sufficient reason."
"Are yer? " said the Kookaburra. "Well, all I can say is that
if yer don't take yer dial outer the road I'll bloomin' well take
an' bounce a gibber off yer crust," and he followed them for quite
a long way, singing out insulting things such as, "You with the
wire whiskers," and "Get onter the bloke with the face fringe."
Bill, of course, treated this conduct with silent contempt. It was
his rule through life, he said, never to fight people with beaks.
The next encounter they had was with a Flying-fox who, though not
so vulgar and rude as the Kookaburra was equally enraged because,
as Bill had suspicions that he was the Possum disguised, he
insisted on measuring him to see if he was the same length.
"Nice goings on, indeed," said the Flying-fox, while Bill was
measuring him, "if a man can't go about his business without being
measured by total strangers. A nice thing, indeed, to happen to
Finglebury Flying-fox, the well-known and respected fruit stealer."
However, he was found to be six inches too short, so they let him
go, and he hurried off, saying, "I shall have the Law on you for
this, measuring a man in a public place without being licensed as a
tailor."
The third disturbance due to Bill's suspicions occurred while
Bunyip Bluegum was in a grocer's shop. They had run out of tea
and sugar, and happening to pass through the town of Bungledoo took
the opportunity of laying in a fresh supply. If Bunyip hadn't
been in the shop, as was pointed out afterwards, the trouble
wouldn't have occurred. The first he heard of it was a scream of
"Help, help, murder is being done!" and rushing out of the shop,
what was his amazement to see no less a person than his Uncle
Wattleberry bounding and plunging about the road with Bill hanging
on to his whiskers, and Sam hanging on to one leg.
"I've got him," shouted Bill. "Catch a holt of his other leg and
give me a chance to get his whiskers off."
"But why are you taking his whiskers off?" inquired Bunyip
Bluegum.
"Because they're stuck on with glue," shouted Bill. "I saw it
at a glance. It's Watkin Wombat, Esquire, disguised as a company
promoter."
"Dear me," said Bunyip, hurriedly, "you are making a mistake.
This is not a puddin'-thief, this is an Uncle."
"A what?" exclaimed Bill, letting go the whiskers. "An Uncle,"
replied Bunyip Bluegum.
"An Uncle," roared Uncle Wattleberry. "An Uncle of the highest
integrity. You have most disgracefully and unmercifully pulled
an Uncle's whiskers."
"I can assure you," said Bill, "I pulled them under the delusion
that you was a disguised Wombat."
"That is no excuse, sir," bellowed Uncle Wattleberry. "No one
but an unmitigated ruffian would pull an Uncle's whiskers.
"Who but the basest scoundrel, double-dyed,
Would pluck an Uncle's whiskers in their pride,
What baseness, then, doth such a man disclose
Who'd raise a hand to pluck an Uncle's nose?"
"If I've gone too far," said Bill, "I apologize. If I'd known
you was an Uncle I wouldn't have done it."
"Apologies are totally inadequate," shouted Uncle Wattleberry.
"Nothing short of felling you to the earth with an umbrella could
possibly atone for the outrage. You are a danger to the whisker
growing public. You have knocked my hat off, pulled my whiskers,
and tried to remove my nose."
"Pullin' your nose," said Bill, solemnly, "is a mistake any man
might make, for I put it to all present, as man to man, if that
nose don't look as if it's only gummed on."
All present were forced to admit that it was a mistake that any
man might make. "Any man," as Sam remarked, "would think he was
doing you a kindness by trying to pull it off."
"Allow me to point out also, my dear Uncle," said Bunyip Bluegum,
"that your whiskers were responsible for this seeming outrage.
Let your anger, then, be assuaged by the consciousness that you
are the victim, not of malice, but of the misfortune of wearing
whiskers."
"How now," exclaimed Uncle Wattleberry. "My nephew Bunyip among
these sacrilegious whisker-pluckers and nose-pullers. My nephew,
not only aiding and abetting these ruffians, but seeking to
palliate their crimes! This is too much. My feelings are such
that nothing but bounding and plunging can relieve them."
And thereupon did Uncle Wattleberry proceed to bound and plunge
with the greatest activity, shouting all the while
"You need not think I bound and plunge
Like this in festive mood.
I bound that bounding may expunge
The thought of insult rude.
"An Uncle's rage must seek relief,
His anger must be drowned;
It is to soothe an Uncle's grief
That thus I plunge and bound.
"I bound and plunge, I seethe with rage,
My mighty anger seeks
So much relief that I engage
To plunge and bound for weeks."
Seeing that there was no possibility of inducing Uncle Wattleberry
to look at the affair in a reasonable light, they walked off and
left him to continue his bounding and plunging for the amusement
of the people of Bungledoo, who brought their chairs out on to the
footpath in order to enjoy the sight at their ease. Bill's
intention to regard everybody he met with suspicion was somewhat
damped by this mistake, and he said there ought to be a law to
prevent a man going about looking as if he was a disguised
puddin'-thief.
The most annoying part of it all was that when the puddin' thieves
did make their appearance they weren't disguised at all. They
were dressed as common ordinary puddin'-thieves, save that the
Possum carried a bran bag in his hand and the Wombat waved a white
flag.
"Well, if this isn't too bad," shouted Bill, enraged. "What
d'you mean, comin' along in this unexpected way without bein'
disguised?"
"No, no," sang out the Possum. "No disguises to-day."
"No fighting, either," said the Wombat.
"No disguises, no fighting, and no puddin'-stealing," said the
Possum. "Nothing but the fairest and most honourable dealings."
"If you ain't after our Puddin', what are you after?" demanded
Bill.
"We're after bringing you a present in this bag," said the Possum.
"Absurd," said Bill. "Puddin'-thieves don't give presents away."
"Don't say that, Bill," said the Possum, solemnly. "If you only
knew what noble intentions we have, you'd be ashamed of them
words."
"You'd blush to hear your voice a-utterin' of them," said
the Wombat.
"I can't make this out at all," said Bill, scratching his head.
"The idea of a puddin'-thief offering a man a present dumbfounds me,
as the saying goes."
"No harm is intended," said the Possum, and the Wombat added:
"Harm is as far from our thoughts as from the thoughts of angels."
"Well, well," said Bill, at length. "I'll just glance at it
first, to see what it's like."
But the Possum shook his head. "No, no, Bill," he said, "no
glancing," and the Wombat added: "To prove that no deception is
intended, all heads must look in the bag together."
"What's to be done about this astoundin' predicament?" said Bill.
"If there is a present, of course we may as well have it.
If there ain't a present, of course we shall simply have to punch
their snouts as usual."
"One must confess," said Bunyip Bluegum, "to the prompting of a
certain curiosity as to the nature of this present;" and Sam
added, "Anyway, there's no harm in having a look at it."
"No harm whatever," said the Possum, and he held the bag open
invitingly. The Puddin'-owners hesitated a moment, but the
temptation was too strong, and they all looked in together. It
was a fatal act. The Possum whipped the bag over their heads, the
Wombat whipped a rope round the bag, and there they were,
helpless.
The worst of it was that the Puddin', being too short to look in,
was left outside, and the puddin'-thieves grabbed him at once and
ran off like winking. To add to the Puddin'-owners' discomfiture
there was a considerable amount of bran in the bag; and, as Bill
said afterwards, if there's anything worse than losing a valuable
Puddin', it's bran in the whiskers. They bounded and plunged
about, but soon had to stop that on account of treading on each
others toes-especially Sam's, who endured agonies, having no boots
on.
"What a frightful calamity," groaned Bill, giving way to despair.
"It's worse than being chased by natives on the Limpopo River,"
said Sam.
"It's worse than fighting Arabs single-handed," croaked Bill.
"It's almost as bad as being pecked on the head by eagles," said
Sam, and in despair they sang in muffled tones
"O what a fearful fate it is,
O what a frightful fag,
To have to walk about like this
All tied up in a bag.
"Our noble confidence has sent
Us on this fearful jag;
In noble confidence we bent
To look inside this bag.
"Deprived of air, in dark despair
Upon our way we drag;
Condemned for evermore to wear
This frightful, fearsome bag."
Bunyip Bluegum reproved this faint-heartedness, saying, "As our
misfortunes are due to exhibiting too great a trust in scoundrels,
so let us bear them with the greater fortitude. As in innocence we
fell, so let our conduct in this hour of dire extremity be guided
by the courageous endurance of men whose consciences are free from
guilt."
These fine words greatly stimulated the others, and they endured
with fortitude walking on Sam's feet for an hour-and-a-half, when
the sound of footsteps apprised them that a traveller was
approaching.
This traveller was a grave, elderly dog named Benjimen Brandysnap,
who was going to market with eggs. Seeing three people walking in
a bag he naturally supposed they were practising for the sports,
but on hearing their appeals for help he very kindly undid the
rope.
"Preserver," exclaimed Bill, grasping him by the hand. "Noble
being," said Sam.
"Guardian angel of oppressed Puddin'-owners," said Bunyip Bluegum.
Benjimen was quite overcome by these expressions of esteem, and
handed round eggs, which were eaten on the spot.
"And now," said Bill, again shaking hands with their preserver,"
I am about to ask you a most important question. Have you seen
any puddin'-thieves about this mornin'?"
"Puddin'-thieves, "said Benjimen. "Let me see. Now that you
mention it, I remember seeing two puddin'-thieves at nine-thirty
this morning. But they weren't stealing puddin's. They were
engaged stealing a bag out of my stable. I was busy at the time
whistling to the carrots, or I'd have stopped them."
"This is most important information," said Bill. "It proves this
must be the very bag they stole. In what direction did the
scoundrels go, friend, after stealing your bag?"
"As I was engaged at the moment feeding the parsnips, I didn't
happen to notice," said Benjimen. "But at this season puddin'
thieves generally go south-east, owing to the price of onions."
"In that case," said Bill, "we shall take a course north-west,
for it's my belief that havin' stolen our Puddin' they'll make
back to winter quarters."
"We will pursue to the north-west with the utmost vigour," said
Bunyip.
"Swearin' never to give in till revenge has been inflicted and
our Puddin' restored to us," said Bill.
"In order to exacerbate our just anger," said Bunyip Bluegum,
"let us sing as we go--