"On a terrible quest we run north-west,
In a terrible rage we run;
With never a rest we run north-west
Till our terrible work is done.
Without delay
Away, away,
In a terrible rage we run all day.
"By our terrible zest you've doubtless guessed
That vengeance is our work;
For we seek the nest with terrible zest
Where the puddin'-snatchers lurk.
With rage, with gloom,
With fret and fume,
We seek the puddin'-snatchers' doom."
They ran north-west for two hours without seeing a sign of the
Puddin'-thieves. Benjimen ran with them to exact revenge for the
theft of his bag. It was hot work running, and having no Puddin'
they couldn't have lunch, but Benjimen very generously handed
eggs all round again.
"Eggs is all very well," said Bill, eating them in despair,
"but they don't come up to Puddin' as a regular diet, and all I
can say is, that if that Puddin' ain't restored soon I shall go
mad with grief."
"I shall go mad with rage," said Sam, and they both sang loudly--
"Go mad with grief or mad with rage,
It doesn't matter whether;
Our Puddin's left this earthly stage,
So in despair we must engage
To both go mad together."
"I have a suggestion to make," said Bunyip Bluegum, "which will
at once restore your wonted good-humour. Observe me."
He looked about till he found a piece of board, and wrote this
notice on it with his fountain pen--
A GRAND PROCESSION OF
THE AMALGAMATED SOCIETY OF
PUDDINGS WILL PASS HERE
AT 2.30 TO-DAY.
This he hung on a tree. "Now," said he, "all that remains to be
done is to hide behind this bush. The news of the procession will
spread like wildfire through the district, and the puddin'-thieves,
unable to resist such a spectacle, will come hurrying to view the
procession. The rest will be simply a matter of springing out on
them like lions."
"Superbly reasoned," said Bill, grasping Bunyip by the hand.
They all hid behind the bush, and a Crow, who happened to be
passing, read the sign and flew off at once to spread the news
through the district.
In fifteen minutes, by Bill's watch, the puddin'-thieves came
running down the road, and took up a position on a stump to watch
the procession. They had evidently been disturbed in the very
act of eating Puddin', for the Possum was still masticating a
mouthful; and the Wombat had stuck the Puddin' in his hat, and
put his hat on his head, which clearly roved him to be a very
ill-bred fellow, for in good society wearing puddin's on the head
is hardly ever done.
Bill and Sam, who were like bloodhounds straining in the leash,
sprang out and confronted the scoundrels, while Bunyip and Ben got
behind in order to cut off their retreat.
"We've got you at last," said Bill, sparring up at the Possum with
the fiercest activity. "Out with our Puddin', or prepare for a
punch on the snout."
The Possum turned pale and the Wombat hastily got behind him.
"Puddin'," said the Possum, acting amazement, "what strange request
is this?"
"What means this strange request?" asked the Wombat.
"No bungfoodlin'," said Bill, sternly. "Produce the Puddin' or
prepare for death."
"Before bringing accusations," said the Possum, "prove where the
Puddin' is."
"It's under that feller's hat," roared Bill, pointing at the
Wombat.
"Prove it," said the Wombat.
"You can't wear hats that high, without there's Puddin's under
them," said Bill.
"That's not Puddin's," said the Possum; "that's ventilation. He
wears his hat like that to keep his brain cool."
"Very well," said Bill. "I call on Ben Brandysnap, as an
independent witness whose bag has been stolen, to prove what's
under that hat."
Ben put on his spectacles in order to study the Wombat carefully,
and gravely pronounced this judgment--
"When you see a hat
Stuck up like that
You remark with some surprise,
`Has he been to a shop,
And bought for his top
A hat of the largest size?'
" Or else you say,
As you note the way
He wears it like a wreath,
`It cannot be fat
That bulges his hat;
He's got something underneath.'
"But whether or not
It's a Puddin' he's got
Can only be settled by lifting his pot.
Or by taking a stick,
A stone or a brick,
And hitting him hard on the head with it quick.
If he yells, you hit fat,
If he doesn't, well that
Will prove it's a Puddin' that's under his hat."
"Now are you satisfied?" asked Bill, and they all shouted--
"Hurrah! hurray!
Just listen to that;
He knows the way
To bell the cat.
You'd better obey
His judgment pat,
Without delay
Remove the hat;
It's tit-for-tat,
We tell you flat,
You'll find it pay
To lift your hat.
Obey the mandate of our chosen lawyer,
Remove that hat, or else we'll do it faw yer."
"No, no," said the Possum, shaking his head. "No removing
people's hats. Removing hats is larceny, and you'll get six
months for it."
"No bashing heads, either," said the Wombat. "That's
manslaughter, and we'll have you hung for it."
Bill scratched his head. "This is an unforeseen predicament,"
he said. "Just mind them puddin'-thieves a minute, Ben, while
we has a word in private." He took Sam and Bunyip aside, and almost
gave way to despair. "What a frightful situation," wailed he.
"We can't unlawfully take a puddin'-thief s hat off, and while it
remains on who's to prove our Puddin's under it? This is one of
the worst things that's happened to Sam and me for years."
"It's worse than being chased by wart-hogs," said Sam.
"It's worse than rolling off a cowshed," said Bill.
"It's worse than wearing soup tureens for hats," said Sam.
"It's almost as bad as swallowing thistle buttons," said Bill, and
both sang loudly--
"It's worse than running in a fright,
Pursued by Polar bears;
It's worse than being caught at night
By lions in their lairs.
"It's worse than barrel organs when
They play from night till morn;
It's worse than having large-sized men
A-standing on your corn.
"It's worse than when at midnight you
Tread on a silent cat,
To have a puddin'-snatcher who
Will not remove his hat."
"All is not yet lost," said Bunyip Bluegum. "Without reverting
to violent measures, I will engage to have the hat removed."
"You will?" exclaimed Bill, grasping Bunyip by the hand.
"I will," said Bunyip firmly. "All I ask is that you strike a
dignified attitude in the presence of these scoundrels, and, at
a given word, follow my example."
They all struck a dignified attitude in front of the
puddin'-thieves, and Bunyip Bluegum, raising his hat, struck
up the National Anthem, the others joining in with superb effect.
"Hats off in honour to our King," shouted Bill, and off came all
the hats. The puddin'-thieves, of course, were helpless. The
Wombat had to take his hat off, or prove himself disloyal, and
there was Puddin' sitting on his head.
"Now who's a liar?" shouted Bill, hitting the Possum a swingeing
blow on the snout, while Sam gave the Wombat one of his famous
over-arm flip flaps that knocked all the wind out of him. The
Wombat tried to escape punishment by shouting, "Never strike a
man with a Puddin' on his head;" but, now that their guilt was
proved, Bill and Sam were utterly remorseless, and gave the
puddin'-thieves such a trouncing that their shrieks pierced the
firmament. When this had been done, all hands gave them an extra
thumping in the interests of common morality. Eggs were rubbed in
their hair by Benjimen, and Bill and Sam attended to the beating
and snout-bending, while Bunyip did the reciting. Standing on a
stump, he declaimed--
"The blows you feel we do not deal
In common, vulgar thumping;
To higher motives we appeal--
It is to teach you not to steal,
Your heads we now are bumping.
You need not go on pumping
Appeals for kinder dealing,
We like to watch you jumping,
We like to hear you squealing.
We rather think this thumping
Will take a bit of healing.
We hope these blows upon the nose,
These bended snouts, these tramped-on toes,
These pains that you are feeling
The truth will be revealing
How wrong is puddin'-stealing."
Then, with great solemnity, he recited the following fine moral
lesson:--
"A puddin'-thief, as I've heard tell,
Quite lost to noble feeling,
Spent all his days, and nights as well,
In constant puddin'-stealing.
"He stole them here, he stole them there,
He knew no moderation;
He stole the coarse, he stole the rare,
He stole without cessation.
"He stole the steak-and-kidney stew
That housewives in a rage hid;
He stole the infants' Puddin' too,
The Puddin' of the aged.
"He lived that Puddin's he might lure,
Into his clutches stealthy;
He stole the Puddin' of the poor,
The Puddin' of the wealthy.
"This evil wight went forth one night
Intent on puddin'-stealing,
When he beheld a hidden light
A secret room revealing.
"Within he saw a fearful man,
With eyes like coals a-glowing,
Whose frightful whiskers over-ran
His face, like weeds a-blowing ;
"And there this fearful, frightful man,
A sight to set you quaking,
With pot and pan and curse and ban,
Began a puddin' making.
"'Twas made of buns and boiling oil,
A carrot and some nails-O!
A lobster's claws, the knobs off doors,
An onion and some snails-O!
"A pound of fat, an old man rat,
A pint of kerosene-O!
A box of tacks, some cobbler's wax,
Some gum and glycerine-0!
"Gunpowder too, a hob-nailed shoe,
He stirred into his pottage;
Some Irish stew, a pound of glue,
A high explosive sausage.
"The deed was done, that frightful one,
With glare of vulture famished,
Blew out the light, and in the night
Gave several howls, and vanished.
"Our thieving lout, ensconced without,
Came through the window slinking;
He grabbed the pot and on the spot
Began to eat like winking.
"He ate the lot, this guzzling sot
Such appetite amazes--
Until those high explosives wrought
Within his tum a loud report,
And blew him all to blazes.
"For him who steals ill-gotten meals
Our moral is a good un.
We hope he feels that it reveals
The danger he is stood in
Who steals a high explosive bomb,
Mistaking it for Puddin'."
The puddin'-thieves wept loudly while this severe rebuke was being
administered, and promised, with sobs, to amend their evil courses,
and in the future to abstain from unlawful puddin'-snatching.
"Your words," said the Possum, "has pierced our brains with
horror and remorse;" and the Wombat added: "From this time
onwards our thoughts will be as far removed from Puddin' as
is the thoughts of angels."
"We have heard that before," said Bunyip Bluegum; "but let us
hope that this time your repentance is sincere. Let us hope that
the tenderness of your snouts will be, if I may be permitted a
flight of poetic fancy, a guiding star to lure your steps along the
path of virtue--
"For he who finds his evil course is ended
By having of his snout severely bended,
Along that path of virtue may be sent
Where virtuous snouts are seldom ever bent."
With that the puddin'-thieves went over the hill, the sun went down
and evening arrived, punctual to the minute.
"Ah," said Bill, "it's a very fortunate thing that evenin's come
along at this time, for, if it hadn't, we couldn't have waited
dinner any longer. But, before preparin' for a night of gaiety,
dance, and song, I have a proposal to put before my feller
Puddin'-owners. I propose to invite our friend Ben here to join
us round the camp fire. He has proved himself a very decent feller,
free with his eggs, and as full of revenge against puddin'-thieves
as ourselves."
"Hospitably spoken," said Bunyip Bluegum, and the Puddin'owners
sang==
"Come join us we intreat,
Come join us we implore,
In Friendship's name our guest we claim,
And Friendship's name is law.
"We've Puddin' here a treat,
We've Puddin' here galore;
Do not decline to stay and dine,
Our Puddin' you'll adore.
"Our Puddin', we repeat,
You really cannot beat,
And here are we its owners three
Who graciously intreat
You'll be at our request,
The Puddin'-owners' guest."
"For these sentiments of esteem, admiration, and respect," said Ben,
"I thank you. As one market gardener to three Puddin'-owners,
I may say I wouldn't wish to eat the Puddin' of three finer fellers
than yourselves."
With this cordial understanding they set about preparing the camp
fire, and the heartiest expressions of friendship were indulged in
while the Puddin' was being passed round. As Bunyip aptly remarked:
"All Fortune's buffets he can surely pardon her,
Who claims as guest our courteous Market Gardener."