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Title: The Magic Pudding

Author: Norman Lindsay

Release date: November 26, 2007 [eBook #23625]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC PUDDING ***




Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net











  _The_
  MAGIC PUDDING

  _Written and Illustrated by_
  NORMAN LINDSAY


  [Illustration]


  DOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC.
  Mineola, New York

_Bibliographical Note_

This Dover edition, first published in 2006, is an unabridged
republication of the work published by Angus and Robertson, Ltd.,
Sydney, Australia, in 1918.

_International Standard Book Number: 0-486-45281-6_

  Manufactured in the United States of America
  Dover Publications, Inc., 31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N.Y. 11501


       *       *       *       *       *


First Slice


[Illustration]

This is a frontways view of Bunyip Bluegum and his Uncle Wattleberry. At
a glance you can see what a fine, round, splendid fellow Bunyip Bluegum
is, without me telling you. At a second glance you can see that the
Uncle is more square than round, and that his face has whiskers on it.

[Illustration]

Looked at sideways you can still see what a splendid fellow Bunyip is,
though you can only see one of his Uncle's whiskers.

[Illustration]

Observed from behind, however, you completely lose sight of the
whiskers, and so fail to realize how immensely important they are. In
fact, these very whiskers were the chief cause of Bunyip's leaving home
to see the world, for, as he often said to himself--

  'Whiskers alone are bad enough
  Attached to faces coarse and rough;
  But how much greater their offence is
  When stuck on Uncles' countenances.'

[Illustration]

The plain truth was that Bunyip and his Uncle lived in a small house in
a tree, and there was no room for the whiskers. What was worse, the
whiskers were red, and they blew about in the wind, and Uncle
Wattleberry would insist on bringing them to the dinner table with him,
where they got in the soup.

Bunyip Bluegum was a tidy bear, and he objected to whisker soup, so he
was forced to eat his meals outside, which was awkward, and besides,
lizards came and borrowed his soup.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

His Uncle refused to listen to reason on the subject of his whiskers. It
was quite useless giving him hints, such as presents of razors, and
scissors, and boxes of matches to burn them off. On such occasions he
would remark--

  'Shaving may add an air that's somewhat brisker,
  For dignity, commend me to the whisker.'

Or, when more deeply moved, he would exclaim--

  'As noble thoughts the inward being grace,
  So noble whiskers dignify the face.'

Prayers and entreaties to remove the whiskers being of no avail, Bunyip
decided to leave home without more ado.

The trouble was that he couldn't make up his mind whether to be a
Traveller or a Swagman. You can't go about the world being nothing, but
if you are a traveller you have to carry a bag, while if you are a
swagman you have to carry a swag, and the question is: Which is the
heavier?

[Illustration]

At length he decided to put the matter before Egbert Rumpus Bumpus, the
poet, and ask his advice. He found Egbert busy writing poems on a slate.
He was so busy that he only had time to sing out--

  'Don't interrupt the poet, friend,
  Until his poem's at an end.'

and went on writing harder than ever. He wrote all down one side of the
slate and all up the other, and then remarked--

  'As there's no time to finish that,
  The time has come to have our chat.
  Be quick, my friend, your business state,
  Before I take another slate.'

[Illustration]

'The fact is,' said the Bunyip, 'I have decided to see the world, and I
cannot make up my mind whether to be a Traveller or a Swagman. Which
would you advise?'

Then said the Poet--

  'As you've no bags it's plain to see
  A traveller you cannot be;
  And as a swag you haven't either
  You cannot be a swagman neither.
  For travellers must carry bags,
  And swagmen have to hump their swags
    Like bottle-ohs or ragmen.
  As you have neither swag nor bag
  You must remain a simple wag,
    And not a swag- or bagman.'

[Illustration]

'Dear me,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'I never thought of that. What must I do
in order to see the world without carrying swags or bags?'

The Poet thought deeply, put on his eyeglass, and said impressively--

  'Take my advice, don't carry bags,
  For bags are just as bad as swags;
    They're never made to measure.
  To see the world, your simple trick
  Is but to take a walking-stick--
    Assume an air of pleasure,
  And tell the people near and far
  You stroll about because you are
    A Gentleman of Leisure.'

[Illustration]

'You have solved the problem,' said Bunyip Bluegum, and, wringing his
friend's hand, he ran straight home, took his Uncle's walking-stick, and
assuming an air of pleasure, set off to see the world.

He found a great many things to see, such as dandelions, and ants, and
traction engines, and bolting horses, and furniture being removed,
besides being kept busy raising his hat, and passing the time of day
with people on the road, for he was a very well-bred young fellow,
polite in his manners, graceful in his attitudes, and able to converse
on a great variety of subjects, having read all the best Australian
poets.

Unfortunately, in the hurry of leaving home, he had forgotten to
provide himself with food, and at lunch time found himself attacked by
the pangs of hunger.

'Dear me,' he said, 'I feel quite faint. I had no idea that one's
stomach was so important. I have everything I require, except food; but
without food everything is rather less than nothing.

  'I've got a stick to walk with.
  I've got a mind to think with.
  I've got a voice to talk with.
  I've got an eye to wink with.
  I've lots of teeth to eat with,
  A brand new hat to bow with,
  A pair of fists to beat with,
  A rage to have a row with.
  No joy it brings
    To have indeed
  A lot of things
    One does not need.
  Observe my doleful plight.
    For here am I without a crumb
    To satisfy a raging tum--
  O what an oversight!'

As he was indulging in these melancholy reflexions he came round a bend
in the road, and discovered two people in the very act of having lunch.
These people were none other than Bill Barnacle, the sailor, and his
friend, Sam Sawnoff, the penguin bold.

Bill was a small man with a large hat, a beard half as large as his hat,
and feet half as large as his beard. Sam Sawnoff's feet were sitting
down and his body was standing up, because his feet were so short and
his body so long that he had to do both together. They had a pudding in
a basin, and the smell that arose from it was so delightful that Bunyip
Bluegum was quite unable to pass on.

[Illustration]

'Excuse me,' he said, raising his hat, 'but am I right in supposing that
this is a steak-and-kidney pudding?'

'At present it is,' said Bill Barnacle.

'It smells delightful,' said Bunyip Bluegum.

'It is delightful,' said Bill, eating a large mouthful.

Bunyip Bluegum was too much of a gentleman to invite himself to lunch,
but he said carelessly, 'Am I right in supposing that there are onions
in this pudding?'

Before Bill could reply, a thick, angry voice came out of the pudding,
saying--

  'Onions, bunions, corns and crabs,
  Whiskers, wheels and hansom cabs,
  Beef and bottles, beer and bones,
  Give him a feed and end his groans.'

'Albert, Albert,' said Bill to the Puddin', 'where's your manners?'

'Where's yours?' said the Puddin' rudely, 'guzzling away there, and
never so much as offering this stranger a slice.'

'There you are,' said Bill. 'There's nothing this Puddin' enjoys more
than offering slices of himself to strangers.'

'How very polite of him,' said Bunyip, but the Puddin' replied loudly--

  'Politeness be sugared, politeness be hanged,
  Politeness be jumbled and tumbled and banged.
  It's simply a matter of putting on pace,
  Politeness has nothing to do with the case.'

[Illustration]

'Always anxious to be eaten,' said Bill, 'that's this Puddin's mania.
Well, to oblige him, I ask you to join us at lunch.'

'Delighted, I'm sure,' said Bunyip, seating himself. 'There's nothing I
enjoy more than a good go in at steak-and-kidney pudding in the open
air.'

'Well said,' remarked Sam Sawnoff, patting him on the back. 'Hearty
eaters are always welcome.'

'You'll enjoy this Puddin',' said Bill, handing him a large slice. 'This
is a very rare Puddin'.'

'It's a cut-an'-come-again Puddin',' said Sam.

'It's a Christmas, steak, and apple-dumpling Puddin',' said Bill.

'It's a--Shall I tell him?' he asked, looking at Bill. Bill nodded, and
the Penguin leaned across to Bunyip Bluegum and said in a low voice,
'It's a Magic Puddin'.'

'No whispering,' shouted the Puddin' angrily. 'Speak up. Don't strain a
Puddin's ears at the meal table.'

'No harm intended, Albert,' said Sam, 'I was merely remarking how well
the crops are looking. Call him Albert when addressing him,' he added to
Bunyip Bluegum. 'It soothes him.'

'I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Albert,' said Bunyip.

'No soft soap from total strangers,' said the Puddin', rudely.

'Don't take no notice of him, mate,' said Bill. 'That's only his rough
and ready way. What this Puddin' requires is politeness and constant
eatin'.'

They had a delightful meal, eating as much as possible, for whenever
they stopped eating the Puddin' sang out--

  'Eat away, chew away, munch and bolt and guzzle,
  Never leave the table till you're full up to the muzzle.'

[Illustration]

But at length they had to stop, in spite of these encouraging remarks,
and, as they refused to eat any more, the Puddin' got out of his basin,
remarking--'If you won't eat any more here's giving you a run for the
sake of exercise', and he set off so swiftly on a pair of extremely thin
legs that Bill had to run like an antelope to catch him up.

'My word,' said Bill, when the Puddin' was brought back. 'You have to be
as smart as paint to keep this Puddin' in order. He's that artful,
lawyers couldn't manage him. Put your hat on, Albert, like a little
gentleman,' he added, placing the basin on his head. He took the
Puddin's hand, Sam took the other, and they all set off along the road.
A peculiar thing about the Puddin' was that, though they had all had a
great many slices off him, there was no sign of the place whence the
slices had been cut.

'That's where the Magic comes in,' explained Bill. 'The more you eats
the more you gets. Cut-an'-come-again is his name, an' cut, an' come
again, is his nature. Me an' Sam has been eatin' away at this Puddin'
for years, and there's not a mark on him. Perhaps,' he added, 'you would
like to hear how we came to own this remarkable Puddin'.'

'Nothing would please me more,' said Bunyip Bluegum.

'In that case,' said Bill, 'let her go for a song.'

[Illustration]

  'Ho, the cook of the _Saucy Sausage_,
    Was a feller called Curry and Rice,
  A son of a gun as fat as a tun
  With a face as round as a hot-cross bun,
    Or a barrel, to be precise.

  'One winter's morn we rounds the Horn,
    A-rollin' homeward bound.
  We strikes on the ice, goes down in a trice,
  And all on board but Curry and Rice
    And me an' Sam is drowned.

[Illustration]

  'For Sam an' me an' the cook, yer see,
    We climbs on a lump of ice,
  And there in the sleet we suffered a treat
  For several months from frozen feet,
  With nothin' at all but ice to eat,
    And ice does not suffice.

  'And Sam and me we couldn't agree
    With the cook at any price.
  We was both as thin as a piece of tin
  While that there cook was busting his skin
    On nothin' to eat but ice.

[Illustration]

  'Says Sam to me, "It's a mystery
    More deep than words can utter;
  Whatever we do, here's me an' you,
  Us both as thin as Irish stoo,
    While he's as fat as butter."

  'But late one night we wakes in fright
    To see by a pale blue flare,
  That cook has got in a phantom pot
  A big plum-duff an' a rump-steak hot,
  And the guzzlin' wizard is eatin' the lot,
    On top of the iceberg bare.'

'There's a verse left out here,' said Bill, stopping the song, 'owin' to
the difficulty of explainin' exactly what happened, when me and Sam
discovered the deceitful nature of that cook. The next verse is as
follows--

  'Now Sam an' me can never agree
    What happened to Curry and Rice.
  The whole affair is shrouded in doubt,
  For the night was dark and the flare went out,
  And all we heard was a startled shout,
  Though I think meself, in the subsequent rout,
  That us bein' thin, an' him bein' stout,
  In the middle of pushin' an' shovin' about,
    He--MUST HAVE FELL OFF THE ICE.'

'That won't do, you know,' began the Puddin', but Sam said hurriedly,
'It was very dark, and there's no sayin' at this date what happened.'

'Yes there is,' said the Puddin', 'for I had my eye on the whole affair,
and it's my belief that if he hadn't been so round you'd have never
rolled him off the iceberg, for you was both singin' out "Yo heave Ho"
for half an hour, an' him trying to hold on to Bill's beard.'

[Illustration]

'In the haste of the moment,' said Bill, 'he may have got a bit of a
shove, for the ice bein' slippy, and us bein' justly enraged, and him
bein' as round as a barrel, he may, as I said, have been too fat to save
himself from rollin' off the iceberg. The point, however, is immaterial
to our story, which concerns this Puddin'; and this Puddin',' said Bill
patting him on the basin, 'was the very Puddin' that Curry and Rice
invented on the iceberg.'

'He must have been a very clever cook,' said Bunyip.

'He was, poor feller, he was,' said Bill, greatly affected. 'For plum
duff or Irish stoo there wasn't his equal in the land. But enough of
these sad subjects. Pausin' only to explain that me an' Sam got off the
iceberg on a homeward bound chicken coop, landed on Tierra del Fuego,
walked to Valparaiso, and so got home, I will proceed to enliven the
occasion with "The Ballad of the Bo'sun's Bride".'

And without more ado, Bill, who had one of those beef-and-thunder
voices, roared out--

  'Ho, aboard the _Salt Junk Sarah_
    We was rollin' homeward bound,
  When the bo'sun's bride fell over the side
    And very near got drowned.
  Rollin' home, rollin' home,
  Rollin' home across the foam,
    She had to swim to save her glim
  And catch us rollin' home.'

It was a very long song, so the rest of it is left out here, but there
was a great deal of rolling and roaring in it, and they all joined in
the chorus. They were all singing away at the top of their pipe, as Bill
called it, when round a bend in the road they came on two low-looking
persons hiding behind a tree. One was a Possum, with one of those sharp,
snooting, snouting sort of faces, and the other was a bulbous,
boozy-looking Wombat in an old long-tailed coat, and a hat that marked
him down as a man you couldn't trust in the fowlyard. They were busy
sharpening up a carving knife on a portable grind-stone, but the moment
they caught sight of the travellers the Possum whipped the knife behind
him and the Wombat put his hat over the grindstone.

Bill Barnacle flew into a passion at these signs of treachery.

'I see you there,' he shouted.

'You can't see all of us,' shouted the Possum, and the Wombat added,
''Cause why, some of us is behind the tree.'

[Illustration]

Bill led the others aside, in order to hold a consultation.

'What on earth's to be done?' he said.

'We shall have to fight them, as usual,' said Sam.

'Why do you have to fight them?' asked Bunyip Bluegum.

'Because they're after our Puddin',' said Bill.

'They're after our Puddin',' explained Sam, 'because they're
professional puddin'-thieves.'

'And as we're perfessional Puddin'-owners,' said Bill, 'we have to fight
them on principle. The fighting,' he added, 'is a mere flea-bite, as the
sayin' goes. The trouble is, what's to be done with the Puddin'?'

'While you do the fighting,' said Bunyip bravely, 'I shall mind the
Puddin'.'

'The trouble is,' said Bill, 'that this is a very secret, crafty
Puddin', an' if you wasn't up to his game he'd be askin' you to look at
a spider an' then run away while your back is turned.'

'That's right,' said the Puddin', gloomily. 'Take a Puddin's character
away. Don't mind his feelings.'

[Illustration]

'We don't mind your feelin's, Albert,' said Bill. 'What we minds is your
treacherous 'abits.' But Bunyip Bluegum said, 'Why not turn him
upside-down and sit on him?'

[Illustration]

'What a brutal suggestion,' said the Puddin'; but no notice was taken of
his objections, and as soon as he was turned safely upside-down, Bill
and Sam ran straight at the puddin'-thieves and commenced sparring up at
them with the greatest activity.

'Put 'em up, ye puddin'-snatchers,' shouted Bill. 'Don't keep us
sparrin' up here all day. Come out an' take your gruel while you've got
the chance.'

The Possum wished to turn the matter off by saying, 'I see the price of
eggs has gone up again', but Bill gave him a punch on the snout that
bent it like a carrot, and Sam caught the Wombat such a flip with his
flapper that he gave in at once.

'I shan't be able to fight any more this afternoon,' said the Wombat,
'as I've got sore feet.' The Possum said hurriedly, 'We shall be late
for that appointment', and they took their grindstone and off they went.

[Illustration]

But when they were a safe distance away the Possum sang out: 'You'll
repent this conduct. You'll repent bending a man's snout so that he can
hardly see over it, let alone breathe through it with comfort', and the
Wombat added, 'For shame, flapping a man with sore feet.'

'We laugh with scorn at threats,' said Bill, and he added as a warning--

  'I don't repent a snout that's bent,
    And if again I tap it,
  Oh, with a clout I'll bend that snout
    With force enough to snap it.'

and Sam added for the Wombat's benefit--

  'I take no shame to fight the lame
  When they deserve to cop it.
  So do not try to pipe your eye,
  Or with my flip I'll flop it.'

[Illustration]

The puddin'-thieves disappeared over the hill and, as the evening
happened to come down rather suddenly at that moment, Bill said,
'Business bein' over for the day, now's the time to set about makin' the
camp fire.'

This was a welcome suggestion, for, as all travellers know, if you don't
sit by a camp fire in the evening, you have to sit by nothing in the
dark, which is a most unsociable way of spending your time. They found a
comfortable nook under the hedge, where there were plenty of dry leaves
to rest on, and there they built a fire, and put the billy on, and made
tea. The tea and sugar and three tin cups and half a pound of mixed
biscuits were brought out of the bag by Sam, while Bill cut slices of
steak-and-kidney from the Puddin'. After that they had boiled jam-roll
and apple-dumpling, as the fancy took them, for if you wanted a change
of food from the Puddin', all you had to do was to whistle twice and
turn the basin round.

After they had eaten as much as they wanted, the things were put away in
the bag, and they settled down comfortably for the evening.

'This is what I call grand,' said Bill, cutting up his tobacco.
'Full-and-plenty to eat, pipes goin' and the evenin's enjoyment before
us. Tune up on the mouth-organ, Sam, an' off she goes with a song.'

They had a mouth-organ in the bag which they took turns at playing, and
Bill led off with a song which he said was called--

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

SPANISH GOLD

  'When I was young I used to hold
    I'd run away to sea,
  And be a Pirate brave and bold
    On the coast of Caribbee.

  'For I sez to meself, "I'll fill me hold
  With Spanish silver and Spanish gold,
  And out of every ship I sink
  I'll collar the best of food and drink.

  '"For Caribbee, or Barbaree,
  Or the shores of South Amerikee
  Are all the same to a Pirate bold,
  Whose thoughts are fixed on Spanish gold."

  'So one fine day I runs away
    A Pirate for to be;
  But I found there was never a Pirate left
    On the coast of Caribbee.

  'For Pirates go, but their next of kin
  Are Merchant Captains, hard as sin,
  And Merchant Mates as hard as nails
  Aboard of every ship that sails.

  'And I worked aloft and I worked below,
  I worked wherever I had to go,
  And the winds blew hard and the winds blew cold,
  And I sez to meself as the ship she rolled,

  '"O Caribbee! O Barbaree!
  O shores of South Amerikee!
  O, never go there: if the truth be told,
  You'll get more kicks than Spanish gold."'

[Illustration]

'And that's the truth, mate,' said Bill to Bunyip Bluegum. 'There ain't
no pirates nowadays at sea, except western ocean First Mates, and many's
the bootin' I've had for not takin' in the slack of the topsail halyards
fast enough to suit their fancy. It's a hard life, the sea, and Sam
here'll bear me out when I say that bein' hit on the head with a
belayin' pin while tryin' to pick up the weather earing is an
experience that no man wants twice. But toon up, and a song all round.'

[Illustration]

'I shall sing you the "Penguin Bold",' said Sam, and, striking a
graceful attitude, he sang this song--

  'To see the penguin out at sea,
    And watch how he behaves,
  Would prove that penguins cannot be
    And never shall be slaves.
  You haven't got a notion
  How penguins brave the ocean
    And laugh with scorn at waves.

  'To see the penguin at his ease
    Performing fearful larks
  With stingarees of all degrees,
    As well as whales and sharks;
  The sight would quickly let you know
  The great contempt that penguins show
    For stingarees and sharks.

[Illustration]

  'O see the penguin as he goes
    A-turning Catherine wheels,
  Without repose upon the nose
    Of walruses and seals.
  But bless your heart, a penguin feels
  Supreme contempt for foolish seals,
    While he never fails, where'er he goes,
    To turn back-flaps on a walrus nose.'

'It's all very fine,' said the Puddin' gloomily, 'singing about the joys
of being penguins and pirates, but how'd you like to be a Puddin' and be
eaten all day long?'

And in a very gruff voice he sang as follows:--

  'O, who would be a puddin',
    A puddin' in a pot,
  A puddin' which is stood on
    A fire which is hot?
  O sad indeed the lot
  Of puddin's in a pot.

  'I wouldn't be a puddin'
    If I could be a bird,
  If I could be a wooden
    Doll, I would'n say a word.
  Yes, I have often heard
  It's grand to be a bird.

  'But as I am a puddin',
    A puddin' in a pot,
  I hope you get the stomach ache
    For eatin' me a lot.
  I hope you get it hot,
  You puddin'-eatin' lot!'

'Very well sung, Albert,' said Bill encouragingly, 'though you're a
trifle husky in your undertones, which is no doubt due to the gravy in
your innards. However, as a reward for bein' a bright little feller we
shall have a slice of you all round before turnin' in for the night.'

So they whistled up the plum-duff side of the Puddin', and had supper.
When that was done, Bill stood up and made a speech to Bunyip Bluegum.

'I am now about to put before you an important proposal,' said Bill.
'Here you are, a young intelligent feller, goin' about seein' the world
by yourself. Here is Sam an' me, two as fine fellers as ever walked,
goin' about the world with a Puddin'. My proposal to you is--Join us,
and become a member of the Noble Society of Puddin'-owners. The duties
of the Society,' went on Bill, 'are light. The members are required to
wander along the roads, indulgin' in conversation, song and story,
eatin' at regular intervals at the Puddin'. And now, what's your
answer?'

'My answer,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'is, Done with you.' And, shaking
hands warmly all round, they loudly sang--

THE PUDDIN'-OWNERS' ANTHEM

  'The solemn word is plighted,
    The solemn tale is told,
  We swear to stand united,
    Three puddin'-owners bold.

  'When we with rage assemble,
  Let puddin'-snatchers groan;
  Let puddin'-burglars tremble,
    They'll ne'er our puddin' own.

  'Hurrah for puddin'-owning,
    Hurrah for Friendship's hand,
  The puddin'-thieves are groaning
    To see our noble band.

  'Hurrah, we'll stick together,
    And always bear in mind
  To eat our puddin' gallantly,
    Whenever we're inclined.'

[Illustration]

Having given three rousing cheers, they shook hands once more and turned
in for the night. After such a busy day, walking, talking, fighting,
singing, and eating puddin', they were all asleep in a pig's whisper.




Second Slice


The Society of Puddin'-owners were up bright and early next morning, and
had the billy on and tea made before six o'clock, which is the best part
of the day, because the world has just had his face washed, and the air
smells like Pears' soap.

'Aha,' said Bill Barnacle, cutting up slices of the Puddin', 'this is
what I call grand. Here we are, after a splendid night's sleep on dry
leaves, havin' a smokin' hot slice of steak-and-kidney for breakfast
round the camp fire. What could be more delightful?'

'What indeed?' said Bunyip Bluegum sipping tea.

'Why, as I always say,' said Bill, 'if there's one thing more entrancin'
than sittin' round a camp fire in the evenin' it's sitting round a camp
fire in the mornin'. No bed and blankets and breakfast tables for Bill
Barnacle. For as I says in my "Breakfast Ballad"--

  'If there's anythin' better than lyin' on leaves,
    It's risin' from leaves at dawnin',
  If there's anythin' better than sleepin' at eve,
    It's wakin' up in the mawnin'.

  'If there's anythin' better than camp firelight,
    It's bright sunshine on wakin'.
  If there's anythin' better than puddin' at night,
    It's puddin' when day is breakin'.

  'If there's anythin' better than singin' away
    While the stars are gaily shinin',
  Why, it's singin' a song at dawn of day,
    On puddin' for breakfast dinin'.'

[Illustration]

There was a hearty round of applause at this song, for as Bunyip Bluegum
remarked, 'Singing at breakfast should certainly be more commonly
indulged in, as it greatly tends to enliven what is on most occasions a
somewhat dull proceeding.'

'One of the great advantages of being a professional Puddin'-owner,'
said Sam Sawnoff, 'is that songs at breakfast are always encouraged.
None of the ordinary breakfast rules, such as scowling while eating, and
saying the porridge is as stiff as glue and the eggs are as tough as
leather, are observed. Instead, songs, roars of laughter, and boisterous
jests are the order of the day. For example, this sort of thing,' added
Sam, doing a rapid back-flap and landing with a thump on Bill's head. As
Bill was unprepared for this act of boisterous humour, his face was
pushed into the Puddin' with great violence, and the gravy was splashed
in his eye.

[Illustration]

'What d'yer mean, playin' such bungfoodlin' tricks on a man at
breakfast?' roared Bill.

'What d'yer mean,' shouted the Puddin', 'playing such foodbungling
tricks on a Puddin' being breakfasted at?'

'Breakfast humour, Bill, merely breakfast humour,' said Sam hastily.

'Humour's humour,' shouted Bill, 'but puddin' in the whiskers is no
joke.'

'Whiskers in the Puddin' is worse than puddin' in the whiskers,' shouted
the Puddin', standing up in his basin.

'Observe the rules, Bill,' said Sam hurriedly. 'Boisterous humour at the
breakfast table must be greeted with roars of laughter.'

'To Jeredelum with the rules,' shouted Bill. 'Pushing a man's face into
his own breakfast is beyond rules or reason, and deserves a punch in the
gizzard.'

Seeing matters arriving at this unpromising situation, Bunyip Bluegum
interposed by saying, 'Rather than allow this happy occasion to be
marred by unseemly recriminations, let us, while admitting that our
admirable friend, Sam, may have unwittingly disturbed the composure of
our admirable friend, Bill, at the expense of our admirable Puddin's
gravy, let us, I say, by the simple act of extending the hand of
friendship, dispel in an instant these gathering clouds of disruption.
In the words of the poem--

  'Then let the fist of Friendship
    Be kept for Friendship's foes.
  Ne'er let that hand in anger land
    On Friendship's holy nose.'

These fine sentiments at once dispelled Bill's anger. He shook hands
warmly with Sam, wiped the gravy from his face, and resumed breakfast
with every appearance of hearty good humour.

The meal over, the breakfast things were put away in the bag, Sam and
Bill took Puddin' between them, and all set off along the road,
enlivening the way with song and story. Bill regaled them with portions
of the 'Ballad of the _Salt Junk Sarah_', which is one of those songs
that go on for ever. Its great advantage, as Bill remarked, was that as
it hadn't got an ending it didn't need a beginning, so you could start
it anywhere.

'As for instance,' said Bill, and he roared out--

  'Ho, aboard the _Salt Junk Sarah_,
  Rollin' home across the line,
  The Bo'sun collared the Captain's hat
  And threw it in the brine.
  Rollin' home, rollin' home,
  Rollin' home across the foam,
  The Captain sat without a hat
  The whole way rollin' home.'

[Illustration]

Entertaining themselves in this way as they strolled along, they were
presently arrested by shouts of 'Fire! Fire!' and a Fireman in a large
helmet came bolting down the road, pulling a fire hose behind him.

'Aha!' said Bill. 'Now we shall have the awe-inspirin' spectacle of a
fire to entertain us,' and, accosting the Fireman, he demanded to know
where the fire was.

'The fact is,' said the Fireman, 'that owing to the size of this helmet
I can't see where it is; but if you will kindly glance at the
surrounding district, you'll see it about somewhere.'

They glanced about and, sure enough, there was a fire burning in the
next field. It was only a cowshed, certainly, but it was blazing very
nicely, and well worth looking at.

'Fire,' said Bill, 'in the form of a common cowshed, is burnin' about
nor'-nor'-east as the crow flies.'

'In that case,' said the Fireman, 'I invite all present bravely to
assist in putting it out. But,' he added impressively, 'if you'll take
my advice, you'll shove that Puddin' in this hollow log and roll a
stone agen the end to keep him in, for if he gets too near the flames
he'll be cooked again and have his flavour ruined.'

[Illustration]

'This is a very sensible feller,' said Bill, and though Puddin' objected
strongly, he was at once pushed into a log and securely fastened in with
a large stone.

[Illustration]

'How'd you like to be shoved in a blooming log,' he shouted at Bill,
'when you was burning with anxiety to see the fire?' but Bill said
severely, 'Be sensible, Albert, fires is too dangerous to Puddin's
flavours.'

No more time was lost in seizing the hose and they set off with the
greatest enthusiasm. For, as everyone knows, running with the reel is
one of the grand joys of being a fireman. They had the hose fixed to a
garden tap in no time, and soon were all hard at work, putting out the
fire.

[Illustration]

Of course there was a great deal of smoke and shouting, and getting
tripped up by the hose, and it was by the merest chance Bunyip Bluegum
glanced back in time to see the Wombat in the act of stealing the
Puddin' from the hollow log.

'Treachery is at work,' he shouted.

'Treachery,' roared Bill, and with one blow on the snout knocked the
Fireman endways on into the burning cinders, where his helmet fell off,
and exposed the countenance of that snooting, snouting scoundrel, the
Possum.

The Possum, of course, hadn't expected to have his disguise pierced so
swiftly, and, though he managed to scramble out of the fire in time to
save his bacon, he was considerably singed down the back.

'What a murderous attack!' he exclaimed. 'O, what a brutal attempt to
burn a man alive!' and as some hot cinders had got down his back he gave
a sharp yell and ran off, singeing and smoking. Bill, distracted with
rage, ran after the Possum, then changed his mind and ran after the
Wombat, so that, what with running first after one and then after the
other, they both had time to get clean away, and disappeared over the
skyline.

'I see it all,' shouted Bill, casting himself down in despair. 'Them low
puddin'-thieves has borrowed a fireman's helmet, collared a hose, an'
set fire to a cowshed in order to lure us away from the Puddin'.'

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

'The whole thing's a low put-up job on our noble credulity,' said Sam,
casting himself down beside Bill.

'It's one of the most frightful things that's ever happened,' said Bill.

'It's worse than treading on tacks with bare feet,' said Sam.

'It's worse than bein' caught stealin' fowls,' said Bill.

'It's worse than bein' stood on by cows,' said Sam.

[Illustration]

'It's almost as bad as havin' an uncle called Aldobrantifoscofornio,'
said Bill, and they both sang loudly--

  'It's worse than weevils, worse than warts,
    It's worse than corns to bear.
  It's worse than havin' several quarts
    Of treacle in your hair.

  'It's worse than beetles in the soup,
    It's worse than crows to eat.
  It's worse than wearin' small-sized boots
    Upon your large-sized feet.

  'It's worse than kerosene to boose,
    It's worse than ginger hair.
  It's worse than anythin' to lose
    A Puddin' rich and rare.'

[Illustration]

Bunyip Bluegum reproved this despondency, saying, 'Come, come, this is
no time for giving way to despair. Let us, rather, by the fortitude of
our bearing prove ourselves superior to this misfortune and, with the
energy of justly enraged men, pursue these malefactors, who have so
richly deserved our vengeance. Arise!'

'Bravely spoken,' said Bill, immediately recovering from despair.

  'The grass is green, the day is fair,
    The dandelions abound.
  Is this a time for sad despair
    And sitting on the ground?

  'Our Puddin' in some darksome lair
    In iron chains is bound,
  While puddin'-snatchers on him fare,
    And eat him by the pound.

  'Let gloom give way to angry glare,
    Let weak despair be drowned,
  Let vengeance in its rage declare
    Our Puddin' must be found.

  'Then let's resolve to do and dare.
    Let teeth with rage be ground.
  Let voices to the heavens declare
    Our Puddin' MUST be found.'

'Those gallant words have fired our blood,' said Sam, and they both
shook hands with Bunyip, to show that they were now prepared to follow
the call of vengeance.

'In order to investigate this dastardly outrage,' said Bunyip, 'we must
become detectives, and find a clue. We must find somebody who has seen a
singed possum. Once traced to their lair, mother-wit will suggest some
means of rescuing our Puddin'.'

They set off at once, and, after a brisk walk, came to a small house
with a signboard on it saying, 'Henderson Hedgehog, Horticulturist'.
Henderson himself was in the garden, horticulturing a cabbage, and they
asked him if he had chanced to see a singed possum that morning.

'What's that? What, what?' said Henderson Hedgehog, and when they had
repeated the question, he said, 'You must speak up, I'm a trifle deaf.'

'Have you seen a singed possum?' shouted Bill.

'I can't hear you,' said Henderson.

'Have you seen a SINGED POSSUM?' roared Bill.

'To be sure,' said Henderson, 'but the turnips are backward.'

'Turnips be stewed,' yelled Bill in such a tremendous voice that he blew
his own hat off. 'HAVE YOU SEEN A SINGED POSSUM?'

'Good season for wattle blossom,' said Henderson. 'Well, yes, but a very
poor season for carrots.'

'A man might as well talk to a carrot as try an' get sense out of this
runt of a feller,' said Bill, disgusted. 'Come an' see if we can't find
someone that it won't bust a man's vocal cords gettin' information out
of.'

They left Henderson to his horticulturing and walked on till they met a
Parrot who was a Swagman, or a Swagman who was a Parrot. He must have
been one or the other, if not both, for he had a bag and a swag, and a
beak, and a billy, and a thundering bad temper into the bargain, for the
moment Bill asked him if he had met a singed possum he shouted back--

'Me eat a singed possum! I wouldn't eat a possum if he was singed,
roasted, boiled, or fried.'

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

'Not ett--met,' shouted Bill. 'I said, met a singed possum.'

'Why can't yer speak plainly, then,' said the Parrot. 'Have you got a
fill of tobacco on yer?'

He took out his pipe and scowled at Bill.

'Here you are,' said Bill. 'Cut a fill an' answer the question.'

'All in good time,' said the Parrot, and he added to Sam, 'You got any
tobacco?'

Sam handed him a fill, and he put it in his pocket. 'You ain't got any
tobacco,' he said scornfully to Bunyip Bluegum. 'I can see that at a
glance. You're one of the non-smoking sort, all fur and feathers.'

'Here,' said Bill angrily. 'Enough o' this beatin' about the bush.
Answer the question.'

'Don't be impatient,' said the Parrot. 'Have you got a bit o' tea an'
sugar on yer?'

'Here's yer tea an' sugar,' said Bill, handing a little of each out of
the bag. 'And that's the last thing you get. Now will you answer the
question?'

'Wot question?' asked the Parrot.

'Have yer seen a singed possum?' roared Bill.

'No, I haven't,' said the Parrot, and he actually had the insolence to
laugh in Bill's face.

'Of all the swivel-eyed, up-jumped, cross-grained, sons of a cock-eyed
tinker,' exclaimed Bill, boiling with rage. 'If punching parrots on the
beak wasn't too painful for pleasure, I'd land you a sockdolager on the
muzzle that 'ud lay you out till Christmas. Come on, mates,' he added,
'it's no use wastin' time over this low-down, hook-nosed
tobacco-grabber.' And leaving the evil-minded Parrot to pursue his
evil-minded way, they hurried off in search of information.

The next person they spied was a Bandicoot carrying a watermelon. At a
first glance you would have thought it was merely a watermelon walking
by itself, but a second glance would have shown you that the walking was
being done by a small pair of legs attached to the watermelon, and a
third glance would have disclosed that the legs were attached to a
Bandicoot.

They shouted, 'Hi, you with the melon!' to attract his attention, and
set off running after him, and the Bandicoot, being naturally of a
terrified disposition, ran for all he was worth. He wasn't worth much as
a runner, owing to the weight of the watermelon, and they caught him up
half-way across the field.

[Illustration]

Conceiving that his hour had come, the Bandicoot gave a shrill squeak of
terror and fell on his knees.

'Take me watermelon,' he gasped,'but spare me life.'

'Stuff an' nonsense,' said Bill. 'We don't want your life. What we want
is some information. Have you seen a singed possum about this morning?'

'Singed possums, sir, yes sir, certainly sir,' gasped the Bandicoot,
trembling violently.

'What!' exclaimed Bill, 'do yer mean to say you have seen a singed
possum?'

'Singed possums, sir, yes sir,' gulped the Bandicoot. 'Very plentiful,
sir, this time of the year, sir, owing to the bush fires, sir.'

'Rubbish,' roared Bill. 'I don't believe he's seen a singed possum at
all.'

'No, sir,' quavered the Bandicoot. 'Certainly not, sir. Wouldn't think
of seeing singed possums if there was any objection, sir.'

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

'You're a poltroon,' shouted Bill. 'You're a slaverin', quaverin',
melon-carryin' nincompoop. There's no more chance of getting information
out of you than out of a terrified Turnip.'

Leaving the Bandicoot to pursue his quavering, melon-humping existence,
they set off again, Bill giving way to some very despondent expressions.

'As far as I can see,' he said, 'if we can't find somethin' better than
stone-deaf hedgehogs, peevish parrots, and funkin' bandicoots we may as
well give way to despair.'

Bunyip Bluegum was forced to exert his finest oratory to inspire them to
another frame of mind. 'Let it never be said,' he exclaimed, 'that the
unconquerable hearts of Puddin'-owners quailed before a parrot, a
hedgehog, or a bandicoot.'

  'Let hedgehogs deaf go delve and dig,
    Immune from loudest howl,
  Let bandicoots lump melons big,
    Let peevish parrots prowl.

  'Shall puddin'-owners bow the head
    At such affronts as these?
  No, No! March on, by anger led,
    Our Puddin' to release.

  'Let courage high resolve inflame
    Our captive Pud to free;
  Our banner wave, our words proclaim
    We march to victory!'

'Bravely sung,' exclaimed Bill, grasping Bunyip Bluegum by the hand, and
they proceeded with expressions of the greatest courage and
determination.

As a reward for this renewed activity, they got some useful information
from a Rooster who was standing at his front gate looking up and down
the road, and wishing to heaven that somebody would come along for him
to talk to. They got, in fact, a good deal more information than they
asked for, for the Rooster was one of those fine up-standing, bumptious
skites who love to talk all day, in the heartiest manner, to total
strangers while their wives do the washing.

[Illustration]

'Singed possum,' he exclaimed, when they had put the usual question to
him. 'Now, what an extraordinary thing that you should come along and
ask me that question. What an astounding and incredible thing that you
should actually use the word "singed" in connexion with the word
"possum". Though mind you, the word I had in my mind was not "singed",
but "burning". And not "possum", but "feathers". Now, I'll tell you why.
Only this morning, as I was standing here, I said to myself "somebody's
been burning feathers". I called out at once to the wife--fine woman,
the wife, you'll meet her presently--"Have you been burning feathers?"
"No", says she. "Well," said I, "if you haven't been burning feathers,
somebody else has." At the very moment that I'm repeating the words
"feathers" and "burning" you come along and repeat the words "singed"
and "possum". Instantly I call to mind that at the identical moment that
I smelt something burning, I saw a possum passing this very gate, though
whether he happened to be singed or not I didn't inquire.'

'Which way did he go?' inquired Bill excitedly.

'Now, let me see,' said the Rooster. 'He went down the road, turned to
the right, gave a jump and a howl, and set off in the direction of
Watkin Wombat's summer residence.'

'The very man we're after,' shouted Bill, and bolted off down the road,
followed by the others, without taking any notice of the Rooster's
request to wait a minute and be introduced to the wife.

'His wife may be all right,' said Bill as they ran, 'but what I say is,
blow meetin' a bloomin' old Rooster's wife when you haven't got a year
to waste listenin' to a bloomin' old Rooster.'

They followed the Rooster's directions with the utmost rapidity, and
came to a large hollow tree with a door in the side and a notice-board
nailed up which said, 'Watkin Wombat, Esq., Summer Residence'.

The door was locked, but it was clear that the puddin'-thieves were
inside, because they heard the Possum say peevishly, 'You're eating too
much, and here's me, most severely singed, not getting sufficient', and
the Wombat was heard to say, 'What you want is soap', but the Possum
said angrily, 'What I need is immense quantities of puddin'.'

The avengers drew aside to hold a consultation.

'What's to be done?' said Bill. 'It's no use knockin', because they'd
look through the keyhole and refuse to come out, and, not bein'
burglars, we can't bust the door in. It seems to me that there's nothin'
for it but to give way to despair.'

[Illustration]

'Never give way to despair while whiskers can be made from dry grass,'
said Bunyip Bluegum, and suiting the action to the word, he swiftly made
a pair of fine moustaches out of dried grass and stuck them on with
wattle gum. 'Now, lend me your hat,' he said to Bill, and taking the hat
he turned up the brim, dented in the top, and put it on. 'The bag is
also required,' he said to Sam, and taking that in his hand and turning
his coat inside out, he stood before them completely disguised.

'You two,' he said, 'must remain in hiding behind the tree. You will
hear me knock, accost the ruffians and hold them in conversation. The
moment you hear me exclaim loudly, "Hey, Presto! Pots and Pans", you
will dart out and engage the villains at fisticuffs. The rest leave to
me.'

[Illustration]

Waiting till the others were hidden behind the tree, Bunyip rapped
smartly on the door which opened presently and the Wombat put his head
out cautiously.

'Have I the extreme pleasure of addressing Watkin Wombat, Esq.?'
inquired Bunyip Bluegum, with a bow.

Of course, seeing a perfect stranger at the door, the Wombat had no
suspicions, and said at once, 'Such is the name of him you see before
you.'

'I have called to see you,' said Bunyip, 'on a matter of business. The
commodity which I vend is Pootles's Patent Pudding Enlarger, samples of
which I have in the bag. As a guarantee of good faith we are giving
samples of our famous Enlarger away to all well-known Puddin'-owners.
The Enlarger, one of the wonders of modern science, has but to be poured
over the puddin', with certain necessary incantations, and the puddin'
will be instantly enlarged to double its normal size.' He took some
sugar from the bag and held it up. 'I am now about to hand you some of
this wonderful discovery. But,' he added impressively, 'the operation of
enlarging the puddin' is a delicate one, and must be performed in the
open air. Produce your puddin', and I will at once apply Pootles's
Patent with marvellous effect.'

'Of course it's understood that no charge is to be made,' said the
Possum, hurrying out.

'No charge whatever,' said Bunyip Bluegum.

So on the principle of always getting something for nothing, as the
Wombat said, Puddin' was brought out and placed on the ground.

'Now watch me closely,' said Bunyip Bluegum. He sprinkled the Puddin'
with sugar, made several passes with his hands, and pronounced these
words--

[Illustration]

  'Who incantations utters
  He generally mutters
    His gruesome blasts and bans
  But I, you need not doubt it,
  Prefer aloud to shout it,
    Hey, Presto! Pots and Pans.'

Out sprang Bill and Sam and set about the puddin'-thieves like a pair of
windmills, giving them such a clip-clap clouting and a flip-flap
flouting, that what with being punched and pounded, and clipped and
clapped, they had only enough breath left to give two shrieks of despair
while scrambling back into Watkin Wombat's Summer Residence, and banging
the door behind them. The three friends had Puddin' secured in no time,
and shook hands all round, congratulating Bunyip Bluegum on the success
of his plan.

'Your noble actin',' said Bill, 'has saved our Puddin's life.'

'Them puddin'-thieves,' said Sam, 'was children in your hands.'

'We hear you,' sang out the Possum, and the Wombat added, 'Oh, what
deceit!'

'Enough of you two,' shouted Bill. 'If we catch you sneakin' after our
Puddin' again, you'll get such a beltin' that you'll wish you was
vegetarians. And now,' said he, 'for a glorious reunion round the camp
fire.'

And a glorious reunion they had, tucking into hot steak-and-kidney
puddin' and boiled jam roll, which, after the exertions of the day, went
down, as Bill said, 'Grand'.

'If them puddin'-thieves ain't sufferin' the agonies of despair at this
very moment, I'll eat my hat along with the Puddin',' said Bill,
exultantly.

'Indeed,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'the consciousness that our enemies are
deservedly the victims of acute mental and physical anguish, imparts, it
must be admitted, an additional flavour to the admirable Puddin'.'

'Well spoken,' said Bill, admiringly. 'Which I will say, that for
turning off a few well-chosen words no parson in the land is the equal
of yourself.'

'Your health!' said Bunyip Bluegum.

The singing that evening was particularly loud and prolonged, owing to
the satisfaction they all felt at the recovery of their beloved Puddin'.
The Puddin', who had got the sulks over Sam's remarks that fifteen goes
of steak-and-kidney were enough for any self-respecting man, protested
against the singing, which, he said, disturbed his gravy. '"More eating
and less noise" is my motto,' he said, and he called Bill a
leather-headed old barrel organ for reproving him.

'Albert is a spoilt child, I fear,' said Bill, shoving him into the bag
to keep him quiet, and without more ado, led off with--

[Illustration]

  'Ho! aboard the _Salt Junk Sarah_,
    Rollin' home around the Horn,
  The Bo'sun pulls the Captain's nose
    For treatin' him with scorn.

  'Rollin' home, rollin' home,
  Rollin' home across the foam.
  The Bo'sun goes with thumps and blows
  The whole way rollin' home.'

'But,' said Bill to Bunyip Bluegum, after about fifteen verses of the
_Salt Junk Sarah_, 'the superior skill, ingenuity and darin' with which
you bested them puddin'-snatchers reminds me of a similar incident in
Sam's youth, which I will now sing you. The incident, though similar as
regards courage an' darin', is totally different in regard to everythin'
else, and is entitled--

[Illustration]

THE PENGUIN'S BRIDE

  ''Twas on the _Saucy Soup Tureen_,
    That Sam was foremast hand,
  When on the quarter-deck was seen
  A maiding fit to be a Queen
    With her old Uncle stand.

  'And Sam at once was sunk all
    In passion deep and grand,
  But this here aged Uncle
  He was the Hearl of Buncle
    And Sam a foremast hand.

  'And Sam he chewed salt junk all
    Day with grief forlorn,
  Because the Hearl of Buncle,
    The lovely maiding's Uncle,
  Regarded him with scorn.

  'When sailin' by Barbado,
    The _Saucy Soup Tureen_,
  Before she could be stayed-O
  Went down in a tornado,
    And never more was seen.

[Illustration]

  'The passengers were sunk all
    Beneath the ragin' wave,
  The maiding and her Uncle,
  The Noble Hearl of Buncle,
    Were saved by Sam the Brave.

[Illustration]

  'He saved the Noble Buncle
    By divin' off the poop.
  The maiding in a funk all
  He, saved along with Uncle
    Upon a chicken coop.

  'And this here niece of Buncle,
    When they got safe to land,
  For havin' saved her Uncle,
  The Noble Hearl of Buncle,
    She offered Sam her hand.

  'And that old Uncle Buncle,
    For joy of his release,
  On Burgundy got drunk all
  Day in Castle Buncle,
    Which hastened his decease.

  'The lovely maiding Buncle
    Inherited the land;
  And, now her aged Uncle
  Has gone, the Hearl of Buncle
    Is Sam, the foremast hand.'

[Illustration]

'Of course,' said Sam modestly, 'the song goes too far in sayin' as how
I married the Hearl's niece, because, for one thing, I ain't a marryin'
man, and for another thing, what she really sez to me when we got to
land was, "You're a noble feller, an' here's five shillin's for you, and
any time you happen to be round our way, just give a ring at the
servants' bell, and there'll always be a feed waitin' for you in the
kitchen." However, you've got to have songs to fill in the time with,
and when a feller's got a rotten word like Buncle to find rhymes for,
there's no sayin' how a song'll end.'

'The exigencies of rhyme,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'may stand excused from
a too strict insistence on verisimilitude, so that the general gaiety is
thereby promoted. And now,' he added, 'before retiring to rest, let us
all join in song,' and grasping each other's hands they loudly sang--

THE PUDDIN'-OWNERS' EVENSONG

  'Let feeble feeders stoop
  To plates of oyster soup.
    Let pap engage
    The gums of age
  And appetites that droop;
    We much prefer to chew
    A Steak-and-kidney stew.

  'Let yokels coarse appease
  Their appetites with cheese.
    Let women dream
    Of cakes and cream,
  We scorn fal-lals like these;
    Our sterner sex extols
    The joy of boiled jam rolls.

  'We scorn digestive pills;
  Give us the food that fills;
    Who bravely stuff
    Themselves with Duff,
  May laugh at Doctor's bills.
    For medicine, partake
    Of kidney, stewed with steak.

  'Then plight our faith anew
  Three puddin'-owners true,
    Who boldly claim
    In Friendship's name
  The noble Irish stoo,
  Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurroo!'




Third Slice


[Illustration]

'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
disguising 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 and 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.

[Illustration]

'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.'

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

'I've got him,' shouted Bill. 'Catch a hold 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.

[Illustration]

'Because they're stuck on with glue,' shouted Bill. 'I saw it at a
glance. It's Watkin Wombat, Esq., 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-eyed,
  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.

[Illustration]

'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.'

[Illustration]

'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.'

[Illustration]

'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.

[Illustration]

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 other's toes--especially Sam's, who
endured agonies, having no boots on.

[Illustration]

'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.'

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

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--

THE PUDDIN'-OWNERS' QUEST

  '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.'

[Illustration]

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.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

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 proved him to be a very ill-bred fellow, for in good society
wearing puddin's on the head is hardly ever done.

[Illustration]

Bill and Sam, who were like bloodhounds straining at 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.'

[Illustration]

'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 judgement--

  '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 judgement 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.

[Illustration]

'Now who's a liar?' shouted Bill, hitting the Possum a swinging 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--

[Illustration]

  '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 head 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--

[Illustration]

  '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.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

  'He stole the steak-and-kidney stew
    That housewives in a rage hid;
  He stole the infant's 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.

[Illustration]

  ''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-O!

  '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'.'

[Illustration]

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.'

To which Benjimen handsomely replied--

  'Still happier he, who meets three Puddin'-owners,
  Whose Puddin' is the equal of its donors.'

And, indeed, a very pleasant evening they had round the camp fire.




Fourth Slice


'This is what I call satisfactory,' said Bill, as they sat at breakfast
next morning. 'It's a great relief to the mind to know that them
puddin'-thieves is sufferin' the agonies of remorse, and that our
Puddin' is safe from bein' stolen every ten minutes.'

'You're a bun-headed old optimist,' said the Puddin' rudely.
'Puddin'-thieves never suffer from remorse. They only suffer from
blighted hopes and suppressed activity.'

'Have you no trust in human nature, Albert?' asked Bill, sternly. 'Don't
you know that nothin' gives a man greater remorse than havin' his face
punched, his toes trod on, and eggs rubbed in his hair?'

'I have grave doubts myself,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'as to the sincerity
of their repentance'; and Ben Brandysnap said that, speaking as a market
gardener, his experience of carrot catchers, onion snatchers, pumpkin
pouncers, and cabbage grabbers induced him to hold the opinion that
shooting them with pea-rifles was the only sure way to make them feel
remorse.

In fact, as Sam said--

  'The howls and groans of pain and grief,
    The accents of remorse,
  Extracted from a puddin'-thief
    Are all put on, of course.'

'Then, all I can say is,' cried Bill, enraged, 'if there's any more of
this business of puddin'-thieves, disguised as firemen, stealing our
Puddin', and puddin'-thieves, not disguised at all, shovin' bags over
our heads, blow me if I don't give up Puddin'-owning in despair and take
to keepin' carrots for a livin'.'

The Puddin' was so furious at this remark that they were forced to eat
an extra slice all round to pacify him, in spite of which he called Bill
a turnip-headed old carrot-cruncher, and other insulting names. However,
at length they set out on the road, Bill continuing to air some very
despondent remarks.

'For what is the good of havin' a noble trustin' nature,' said he, 'for
every low puddin'-thief in the land to take advantage of? As far as I
can see, the only thing to do is to punch every snout we meet, and
chance the odds it belongs to a puddin'-thief.'

'Come,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'I see you are not your wonted,
good-humoured self this morning. As a means of promoting the general
gaiety, I call on you to sing the _Salt Junk Sarah_ without delay.'

This was immediately effective, and Bill with the greatest heartiness
roared out--

  'Ho, aboard the _Salt Junk Sarah_
    Rollin' round the ocean wide,
  The bo'sun's mate, I grieve to state,
    He kissed the bo'sun's bride.

[Illustration]

  'Rollin' home, rollin' home,
  Home across the foam;
  The bo'sun rose and punched his nose
  And banged him on the dome.'

At about the fifteenth verse they came to the town of Tooraloo, and that
put a stop to the singing, because you can't sing in the public streets
unless you are a musician or a nuisance. The town of Tooraloo is one of
those dozing, snoozing, sausage-shaped places where all the people who
aren't asleep are only half awake, and where dogs pass away their lives
on the footpaths, and you fall over cows when taking your evening
stroll.

[Illustration]

There was a surprise awaiting them at Tooraloo, for the moment they
arrived two persons in bell-toppers and long-tailed coats ran out from
behind a fence and fell flat on their backs in the middle of the road,
yelling 'Help, help! thieves and ruffians are at work!'

The travellers naturally stared with amazement at this peculiar
conduct. The moment the persons in bell-toppers caught sight of them
they sprang up, and striking an attitude expressive of horror, shouted:

'Behold the puddin'-thieves!'

[Illustration]

'Behold the what?' exclaimed Bill.

'Puddin'-thieves,' said one of the bell-topperers. 'For well you know
that that dear Puddin' in your hand has been stolen from its parents and
guardians, which is ourselves.' And the other bell-topperer added, 'Deny
it not, for with that dear Puddin' in your hand your guilt is manifest.'

'Well, if this ain't enough to dumbfound a codfish,' exclaimed Bill.
'Here's two total strangers, disguised as undertakers, actually accusin'
us of stealin' our own Puddin'. Why, it's outside the bounds of
comprehension!'

'It's enough to stagger the senses,' said Sam.

'It's enough to daze the mind with horror,' said Bill.

'Come, come,' said the bell-topperers, 'cease these expressions of
amazement and hand over the stolen Puddin'.'

'What d'yer mean,' exclaimed Bill, 'by calling this a stolen Puddin'?
It's a respectable steak-and-kidney, apple-dumplin', grand digestive
Puddin', and any fellers in pot-hats sayin' it's a stolen Puddin' is
scoundrels of the deepest dye.'

'Never use such words to people wearing bell-toppers,' said one of the
bell-topperers, and the other added, 'With that dear Puddin' gazing up
to heaven, how can you use such words?'

'All very fine, no doubt,' sneered Bill, 'but if you ain't scoundrels of
the deepest dye, remove them hats and prove you ain't afraid to look us
in the eye.'

'No, no,' said the first bell-topperer. 'No removing hats at present on
account of sunstroke, and colds in the head, and doctor's orders. My
doctor said to me only this morning, "Never remove your hat." Those were
his words. "Let it be your rule through life," he said, "to keep the
head warm, whatever happens."'

'No singing "God save the King", neither,' said the other bell-topperer.
'Let your conduct be noble, and never sing the National Anthem to people
wearing bell-toppers.'

'In fact,' said the first bell-topperer, 'all we say is, hand over the
Puddin' with a few well-chosen words, and all ill-feeling will be
dropped.'

Bill was so enraged at this suggestion that he dashed his hat on the
ground and kicked it to relieve his feelings. 'Law or no law,' he
shouted, 'I call on all hands to knock them bell-toppers off.'

All hands made a rush for the bell-topperers, who shouted, 'An
Englishman's hat is his castle,' and Top-hats are sacred things'; but
they were overpowered by numbers, and their hats were snatched off. 'THE
PUDDIN'-THIEVES!' shouted the company.

Those bell-toppers had disguised that snooting, snouting scoundrel, the
Possum, and his snoozing, boozing friend the Wombat! There was an
immense uproar over this discovery, Bill and Sam flapping and
snout-bending away at the puddin'-thieves, the puddin'-thieves roaring
for mercy. Ben denounced them as bag snatchers, and Bunyip Bluegum
expressed his indignation in a fine burst of oratory, beginning:

'Base, indeed, must be those scoundrels, who, lost to all sense of
decency and honour, boldly assume the outward semblance of worthy
citizens, and, by the pretentious nature of their appearance, not only
seek the better to impose upon the noble credulity of Puddin'-owners,
but, with dastardly cunning, strike a blow at Society's most sacred
emblem--the pot-hat.'

The uproar brought the Mayor of Tooraloo hastening to the scene,
followed by the local constable. The Mayor was a little, fat,
breathless, beetle-shaped man, who hastened with difficulty owing to his
robe of office being trodden on by the Constable, who ran close behind
him in order to finish eating a banana in secret. He had some more
bananas in a paper bag, and his face was one of those feeble faces that
make one think of eggs and carrots and feathers, if you take my meaning.

'How now, how now!' shouted the Mayor. 'A riot going on here, a
disturbance in the town of Tooraloo. Constable, arrest these rioters and
disturbers.'

'Before going to extremes,' said the Constable, in a tremulous voice,
'my advice to you is, read the Riot Act, and so have all the honour and
glory of stopping the riot yourself.'

[Illustration]

'Unfortunately,' said the Mayor, 'in the haste of departure, I forgot to
bring the Riot Act, so there's nothing else for it; you must have all
the honour and glory of quelling it.'

'The trouble is,' said the Constable, 'that there are far too many
rioters. One would have been quite sufficient. If there had been only
one small undersized rioter, I should have quelled him with the utmost
severity.'

'Constable,' said the Mayor, sternly, 'in the name of His Majesty the
King, I call on you to arrest these rioters without delay.'

'Look here,' said Bill, 'you're labourin' under an error. This ain't a
riot at all. This is merely two puddin'-thieves gettin' a hidin' for
tryin' to steal our Puddin'.'

'Puddin'-thieves!' exclaimed the Mayor. 'Don't tell me that
puddin'-thieves have come to Tooraloo.'

  'It staggers me with pain and grief,
    I can't believe it's true,
  That we should have a puddin'-thief
    Or two in Tooraloo.

  'It is enough to make one dumb
    And very pale in hue
  To know that puddin'-thieves should come
    To sacred Tooraloo.

  'The Law's just anger must appear.
    Ho! seize these scoundrels who
  Pollute the moral atmosphere
    Of rural Tooraloo.'

'We protest against these cruel words,' said the Possum. 'We have been
assaulted and battered and snout-bended by ruffians of the worst
description.'

'How can Your Worship say such things,' said the Wombat, 'and us
a-wearin' bell-toppers before your very eyes.'

'If you've been assaulted and battered,' said the Mayor, 'we shall have
to arrest the assaulters and batterers, as well.'

'What's fair to one is fair to all,' said the Constable. 'You'll admit
that, of course?' he added to Bill.

'I admit nothin' of the sort,' said Bill. 'If you want to arrest
anybody, do your duty and arrest these here puddin'-snatchers.

  'If you're an officer of the Law,
    A constant felon-catcher,
  Then do not hesitate before
    A common puddin'-snatcher.'

[Illustration]

'We call on you to arrest these assaulters and batterers of people
wearing top-hats,' said the puddin'-thieves;

  'Our innocence let all attest,
    We prove it by our hatter;
  It is your duty to arrest
  Not those in top-hats of the best
    But those who top-hats batter.'

'It's very clear that somebody has to be arrested,' said the Mayor. 'I
can't be put to the trouble of wearing my robes of office in public
without somebody having to pay for it. I don't care whether you arrest
the top-hat batterers, or the battered top-hatters; all I say is, do
your duty, whatever happens--

  'So somebody, no matter who,
    You must arrest or rue it;
  As I'm the Mayor of Tooraloo,
  And you've the painful job to do,
    I call on you to do it.'

[Illustration]

'Very well,' said the Constable, peevishly, 'as I've got to take all the
responsibility, I'll settle the matter by arresting the Puddin'. As far
as I can see, he's the ringleader in this disturbance.'

'You're a carrot-nosed poltroon,' said the Puddin' loudly. 'As for the
Mayor, he's a sausage-shaped porous plaster,' and he gave him a sharp
pinch in the leg.

'What a ferocious Puddin',' said the Mayor, turning as pale as a turnip.
'Officer, do your duty and arrest this dangerous felon before he
perpetrates further sacrilegious acts.'

'That's all very well, you know,' said the Constable, turning as pale as
tripe; 'but he might nip me.'

'I can't help that,' cried the Mayor, angrily. 'At all costs I must be
protected from danger. Do your duty and arrest this felon with your
hat.'

The Constable looked round, gasped, and summoning all his courage,
scooped up the Puddin' in his hat.

'My word,' he said, breathlessly, 'but that was a narrow squeak. I
expected every moment to be my last.'

'Now we breathe more freely,' said the Mayor, and led the way to the
Tooraloo Court House.

'If this isn't too bad,' said Bill, furiously. 'Here we've had all the
worry and trouble of fightin' puddin'-thieves night and day, and, on top
of it all, here's this Tooralooral tadpole of a Mayor shovin' his nose
into the business and arrestin' our Puddin' without rhyme or reason.'

[Illustration]

As they had arrived at the Court House at that moment, Bill was forced
to smother his resentment for the time being. There was nobody in Court
except the Judge and the Usher, who were seated on the bench having a
quiet game of cards over a bottle of port.

'Order in the Court,' shouted the Usher, as they all came crowding in;
and the Judge, seeing the Constable carrying the Puddin' in his hat,
said severely:

'This won't do, you know; it's Contempt of Court, bringing your lunch
here.'

'An' it please you, My Lord,' said the Constable hurriedly, 'this here
Puddin' has been arrested for pinching the Mayor.'

'As a consequence of which, I see you've pinched the Puddin',' said the
Judge facetiously. 'Dear me, what spirits I am in to-day, to be sure!'

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

'The felon has an aroma most dangerously suggestive of beef gravy,' said
the Usher, solemnly.

'Beef gravy?' said the Judge. 'Now, it seems to me that the aroma is
much more subtly suggestive of steak and kidney.'

'Garnished, I think, with onions,' said the Usher.

'In order to settle this knotty point, just hand the felon up here a
moment,' said the Judge. 'I don't suppose you've got a knife about you?'
he asked.

'I've got a paper-knife,' said the Usher; and, the Puddin' having been
handed up to the bench, the Judge and the Usher cut a slice each, and
had another glass of port.

Bill was naturally enraged at seeing total strangers eating
Puddin'-owners' private property, and he called out loudly:

'Common justice and the lawful rights of Puddin'-owners.'

'Silence in the Court while the Judge is eating,' shouted the Usher; and
the Judge said severely--

  'I really think you ought
    To see I'm taking food,
  So, Silence in the Court!
  (I'm also taking port),
    If you intrude, in manner rude,
  A lesson you'll be taught.'

'An' it please Your Lordship,' said the Mayor, pointing to Bill, 'this
person is a brutal assaulter of people wearing top-hats.'

'No insults,' said Bill, and he gave the Mayor a slap in the face.

[Illustration]

The Mayor went as pale as cheese, and the Usher called out: 'No
face-slapping while the judge is dining!' and the Judge said, angrily--

  'It's really far from nice,
    As you ought to be aware,
  While I am chewing a slice,
    To have you slapping the Mayor.
  If I have to complain of you again
    I'll commit you in a trice,
    You'd better take my advice;
    Don't let me warn you twice.'

'All very well for you to talk,' said Bill, scornfully, 'sittin' up
there eatin' our Puddin'. I'm a respectable Puddin'-owner, an' I calls
on you to hand over that Puddin' under threat of an action-at-law for
wrongful imprisonment, trespass, and illegally using the same.'

'Personal remarks to the Judge are not allowed,' shouted the Usher, and
the Judge said solemnly--

  'A Judge must be respected,
    A Judge you mustn't knock,
  Or else you'll be detected
    And shoved into the dock.
    You'll get a nasty shock
    When gaolers turn the lock.
  In prison cell you'll give a yell
    To hear the hangman knock.'

Here, the Usher took off his coat, as the day was warm, and hung it on
the back of his chair. He then rapped on the bench and said--

  'In the name of the Law I must request
  Less noise while we're having a well-earned rest,
  For the Judge and the Usher never must shirk

[Illustration]

  A well-earned rest in the middle of work.
  It's the duty of both they are well aware
  To preserve their precious lives with care;
  It's their duty, when feeling overwrought,
  To preserve their lives with Puddin' and Port.'

He sat down and tossed off a bumper of port to prove his words. 'Your
deal, I think,' said the Judge, and they went on sipping and munching
and dealing out cards. At this, Bill gave way to despair.

'What on earth's to be done?' he asked. 'Here's these legal ferrets has
got our Puddin' in their clutches, and here's us, spellbound with
anguish, watchin' them wolfin' it. Here's a situation as would wring
groans from the breast of a boiled onion.'

'Why, it's worse than droppin' soverins down a drain,' said Sam.

'It's worse than catchin' your whiskers in the mangle,' said Bill.

By a fortunate chance, at this moment the Possum happened to put his
snout within Bill's reach, and Bill hit it a swinging clout to relieve
his feelings.

'It's unlawful,' shouted the Possum, 'to hit a man's snout unexpectedly
when he isn't engaged puddin'-stealing.'

'Observe the rules,' said the Wombat solemnly. 'Be kind to snouts when
not engaged in theft.'

'If it hadn't been for you two tryin' to steal our Puddin' all this
trouble wouldn't have happened,' said Bill.

'It's the Mayor's fault for bringing us all here,' cried the Possum,
angrily. 'If you was a just man, you'd clout him on the snout, too.'

'The Mayor's to blame,' said the Wombat. 'What about the whole lot of us
settin' on to him?'

At this suggestion the Mayor trembled so violently that his hat fell
off.

'What dreadful words are these?' he asked, and the Constable said
hurriedly, 'Never set on to the Mayor while the local Constable is
present. Let that be your golden rule.'

'That's all very well,' said Bill, 'but if you two hadn't come
interferin' at the wrong moment, our Puddin' wouldn't have been
arrested, and all this trouble wouldn't have happened. As you're
responsible, the question now is, What are you going to do about it?'

'My advice is,' said the Constable, impressively, 'resign yourselves to
Fate.'

'My advice,' said the Mayor in a low voice, 'is general expressions of
esteem and friendship, hand-shaking all round, inquiries after each
other's health, chatty remarks about the weather, the price of potatoes,
and how well the onions are looking.'

Bill treated these suggestions with scorn. 'If any man in the company
has better advice to offer, let him stand forth,' said he.

Bunyip Bluegum stood forth. 'My advice,' he said, 'is this: try the case
without the Judge; or, in other words, assume the legal functions of
this defaulting personage in the bag-wig who is at present engaged in
distending himself illegally with our Puddin'. For mark how runs the
axiom--

  'If you've a case without a Judge,
  It's clear your case will never budge;
  But if a Judge you have to face,
  The chances are you'll lose your case.
  To win your case, and save your pelf,
  Why, try the blooming case yourself!'

'As usual, our friend here solves the problem in a few well-chosen
words,' said Bill, and preparations were made at once for trying the
case. After a sharp struggle, in which it was found necessary to bend
the Possum's snout severely in order to make him listen to reason, the
puddin'-thieves were forced into the dock. Their top-hats and
frock-coats were taken away, for fear the jury might take them for
undertakers, and not scoundrels. The Mayor and the Constable were pushed
into the jury box to perform the duties of twelve good men and true, and
the others took seats about the Court as witnesses for the prosecution.

There was some delay before the proceedings began, for Bill said,
'Here's me, the Crown Prosecutor, without a wig. This'll never do.'
Fortunately, a wig was found in the Judge's private room, and Bill put
it on with great satisfaction.

'I'm afraid this is unconstitutional,' said the Mayor to the Constable.

[Illustration]

'It is unconstitutional,' said the Constable; 'but it's better than
getting a punch on the snout.'

The Mayor turned so pale at this that the Constable had to thrust a
banana into his mouth to restore his courage.

'Thank you,' said the Mayor, peevishly; 'but, on the whole, I prefer to
be restored with peeled bananas.'

'Order in the jury box,' said Bill, sharply, and the Mayor having
hurriedly bolted his banana, peel and all, proceedings commenced.

[Illustration]

'Gentlemen of the Jury,' said Bill, 'the case before you is one
aboundin' in horror and amazement. Persons of the lowest morals has
disguised themselves in pot-hats in order to decoy a Puddin' of tender
years from his lawful guardians. It is related in the archives of the
Noble Order of Puddin'-owners that previous to this dastardly attempt a
valuable bag, the property of Sir Benjimen Brandysnap, had been stolen
and the said Puddin'-owners invited to look at a present inside it. The
said bag was then pulled over their heads, compelling the Puddin'-owners
aforesaid to endure agonies of partial suffocation, let alone walkin' on
each other's corns for several hours. Had not Sir Benjimen, the noble
owner, appeared like a guardian angel and undone the bag, it is doubtful
if Sir Samuel Sawnoff's corns could have stood the strain much longer,
his groans bein' such as would have brought tears to the eyes of a
hard-boiled egg.'

[Illustration]

'A very moving story,' said the Constable, and the Mayor was so affected
that the Constable had to stuff a banana into his mouth to prevent him
bursting into tears.

'I now propose to call Sir Benjimen Brandysnap as first witness for the
prosecution,' said Bill. 'Kindly step into the witness-box, Sir
Benjimen, and relate the circumstances ensuin' on your bag bein' stole.'

Benjimen stepped into the box, and, taking a piece of paper from his egg
basket, said solemnly: 'I was very busy that morning, Gentlemen of the
Jury, owing to the activity of the vegetables, as hereunder described--

  'On Tuesday morn, as it happened by chance,
    The parsnips stormed in a rage,
  Because the young carrots were singing like parrots
    On top of the onions' cage.

  'The radishes swarmed on the angry air
    Around with the bumble bees,
  While the brussels-sprouts were pulling the snouts
    Of all the young French peas.

  'The artichokes bounded up and down
    On top of the pumpkins' heads,
  And the cabbage was dancing the highland fling
    All over the onion beds.

  'So I hadn't much time, as Your Honour perceives,
  For watching the habits of puddin'-thieves.'

'Tut, tut, Sir Benjimen,' said Bill, 'stir up your memory, sir; cast
your eye over them felons in the dock, and tell the Court how you seen
them steal the bag.'

'The fact is,' said Benjimen, after studying the puddin'-thieves
carefully, 'as they had their backs turned to me when they were engaged
in stealing the bag, I should be able to judge better if they were
turned round.'

'Officer,' said Bill to Bunyip Bluegum, 'kindly turn the felons' backs
to the witness.'

The Possum and the Wombat objected, saying there wasn't room enough in
the witness-box to turn round, so it was found necessary to twist their
snouts the opposite way.

'From this aspect,' said Ben, 'I have no hesitation in saying that those
are the backs that stole the bags.'

'Make a note of that, Gentlemen of the Jury,' said Bill, and the
Constable obligingly made a note of it on his banana bag.

'The identity of the bag-stealers bein' now settled,' went on Bill, 'I
shall kindly ask Sir Benjimen to step down, and call on Sir Samuel
Sawnoff to ascend the witness-box.'

Sam stepped up cheerfully, but, as the witness-box was the wrong size
for Penguins, they had to hand him a chair to stand on.

[Illustration]

'Now, Sir Samuel,' said Bill, impressively, 'I am about to ask you a
most important leadin' question. Do you happen to notice such a thing
as a Puddin' in the precinks of the Court?'

[Illustration]

Sam shaded his eyes with his flapper and, seeing the Puddin' on the
bench, started back dramatically.

'Do my eyes deceive me, or is yon object a Puddin'?' he cried.

'Well acted,' said the Mayor, and the Constable clapped loudly.

'I am now about to ask you another leadin' question,' said Bill. 'Do you
recognize that Puddin'?'

'Do I recognize that Puddin'?' cried Sam in thrilling tones. 'That
Puddin', sir, is dearer to me than an Uncle. That Puddin', sir, an' me
has registered vows of eternal friendship and esteem.

[Illustration]

  'That Puddin', sir, an' me have sailed the seas,
  Known tropic suns, and braved the Arctic breeze,
  We've heard on Popocatepetl's peak
  The savage Tom-Tom sharpenin' of his beak,
  We've served the dreadful Jim-Jam up on toast,
  When shipwrecked off the Coromandel coast,
  And when we heard the frightful Bim-Bam rave,
  Have plunged beneath the Salonican wave.
  We've delved for Bulbuls' eggs on coral strands,
  And chased the Pompeydon in distant lands.
  That Puddin', sir, and me, has, back to back,
  Withstood the fearful Rumty Tums' attack,
  And swum the Indian Ocean for our lives,
  Pursued by Oysters, armed with oyster knives.
  Let me but say, e'er these adventures cloy,
  I've knowed that Puddin' since he were a boy.'

[Illustration]

'All lies,' sang out the Puddin', looking over the rim of his basin.
'For well you know that you and old Bill Barnacle collared me off Curry
and Rice after rolling him off the iceberg.'

'Albert, Albert,' said Bill, sternly. 'Where's your manners:
interruptin' Sir Samuel in that rude way, and him a-performin' like an
actor for your deliverance!'

'How much longer do you expect me to stay up here, bein' guzzled by
these legal land-crabs?' demanded the Puddin'.

'You shall stay there, Albert, till the case is well and truly tried by
these here noble Peers of the Realm assembled,' said Bill, impressively.

'Too much style about you,' said the Puddin', rudely, and he threw the
Judge's glass of port into Bill's face, remarking: 'Take that, for being
a pumpkin-headed old shellback.'

There was a great uproar over this very illegal act. The Judge was
enraged at losing his port, and the Mayor was filled with horror because
Bill wiped his face on the mayoral hat. Sam had to feign amazement at
being called a liar, and the puddin'-thieves kept shouting: 'Time, time;
we can't stand here all day.'

[Illustration]

In desperation, Bill bawled at the top of his voice: 'I call on
Detective Bluegum to restore order in the Court.'

Bunyip ran into the witness-box and, with a ready wit, shouted: 'I have
dreadful news to impart to this honourable Court.'

All eyes, of course, turned on Bunyip, who, raising his hand with an
impressive gesture, said in thrilling tones: 'From information
received, it has been discovered that the Puddin' was poisoned at
ten-thirty this morning.'

This news restored order at once. The Judge turned pale as lard, and the
Usher, having a darker complexion, turned as pale as soap. The Puddin'
couldn't turn pale, so he let out a howl of terror.

'Poisoned,' said the Usher, feebly. 'How, how?'

'Poisoned,' said the Judge, feeling his stomach with trembling hands.
'Until this moment I was under the delusion that a somewhat unpleasant
sensation of being, as it were, distended, was merely due to having
eaten seven slices. But if--'

[Illustration]

'If,' said the Usher, in a quavering voice--

  'If you take a poisoned Puddin'
    And that poisoned Puddin' chew
  The sensations that you suffer
    I should rather say were due
  To the poison in the Puddin'
    In the act of Poisoning You.
  And I think the fact suffices
    Through this dreadfulest of crimes,
  As you've eaten seven slices
    You've been poisoned seven times.'

'It was your idea having it up on the bench,' said the Judge, angrily,
to the Usher. 'Now,

  'If what you say is true,
  That idea you'll sadly rue,
  The poison I have eaten is entirely due to you.
  It's by taking your advice
  That I've had my seventh slice,
  So I'll tell you what I'll do
  Why, I'll beat you black and blue,'

and with that he hit the Usher a smart crack on the head with a port
bottle.

'Don't strike a poisoned man,' shouted the Usher; but the Judge went on
smacking and cracking him with the bottle, singing--

  'The emotion of pity
    Need never be sought
  In a Judge who's been poisoned
    By Puddin' and Port.'

In desperation, the Usher leapt off the bench, and landed head first in
the dock, where he stuck like a sardine.

[Illustration]

'Too bad, too bad,' shouted the puddin'-thieves. 'Crowding in here where
there's only room for two.' Before they could get rid of the Usher, the
Judge bounded over the bench and commenced whacking them with the
bottle, singing--

  'As I find great satisfaction
    Hitting anybody who
  Can offer that distraction,
    Why, I'll have a go at you,'
and he went on bounding and whacking away with the bottle, while the
puddin'-thieves kept roaring, and the Usher kept screaming. The uproar
was deafening.

'Just listen to it,' said Bill, in despair. 'I'd like to know how on
earth we are going to finish the case with all this umptydoodle rumpus
going on.'

'Why,' said Bunyip, 'the simpler course is not to finish the case at
all.'

'Solved, as usual,' said Bill and, seizing the Puddin' from the bench,
he dashed out of Court, followed by Sam, Ben, and Bunyip Bluegum.

As they ran they could hear the Judge still whacking away at everybody,
including the Mayor, and the Constable, whose screams were piercing.
'Indeed,' said Bunyip--

  'I rather think they'll rather rue
  The haste with which they sought to sue
  Us, in the Court of Tooraloo.
    For, mark how just is Fate!

  'The whole benighted, blooming crew,
  The Puddin'-thieves, the Usher too,
  Are being beaten black and blue
    With bottles on the pate.

  'I rather think they will eschew,
  In future, Puddin'-owners who
  Pass through the simple rural view
    About the town of Tooraloo.'

'And now,' said Bill, when they had run a mile or two beyond the town,
'and now for some brilliant plan, swiftly conceived, which will put a
stop to this Puddin'-snatchin' business for ever. For the point is,'
continued Bill, lowering his voice, 'here we are pretty close up to the
end of the book, and something will have to be done in a Tremendous
Hurry, or else we'll be cut off short by the cover.'

'The solution is perfectly simple,' said Bunyip. 'We have merely to stop
wandering along the road, and the story will stop wandering through the
book. This, too, will baffle the puddin'-thieves, for while we wander
along the road, our Puddin' is exposed to the covetous glances of every
passing puddin'-snatcher. Let us, then, remove to some safe, secluded
spot and settle down to a life of gaiety, dance, and song, where no
puddin'-thief will dare to show a sacrilegious head. Let us, in fact,
build a house in a tree. For, mark the advantages of such a habitation--

  'Up on high
  No neighbours pry
    In at the window,
  On the sly.

  'Up in a tree
  You're always free
    From bores and bailiffs,
  You'll agree.

  'Up on high
  Bricks you shy
    At bores and bailiffs
  Passing by.

  'Up in the leaves
  One never grieves
    Over the pranks
  Of puddin'-thieves.

  'If you would be
  Gay and free,
    Take my tip and
  Live in a tree.'

'We will, we will,' shouted the Puddin'-owners; but the Puddin' said
sourly: 'This is all very well, all this high falutin'. But what about
the dreadful news of being poisoned at ten-thirty this morning?'

'You ain't poisoned, Albert,' said Bill. 'That was only a mere _ruse de
guerre_, as they say in the noosepapers.'

'A what?' demanded the Puddin', suspiciously.

'Let words be sufficient, without explanation,' said Bill, severely.
'And as we haven't time to waste talkin' philosophy to a Puddin', why,
into the bag he goes, or we'll never get the story finished.'

So Puddin' was bundled into the bag, and Bill said, hurriedly:
'Brilliant as our friend Bunyip had proved himself with his ready wit,
it remains for old Bill to suggest the brightest idea of all. Here is
our friend Ben, a market gardener of the finest description. Very well.
Why not build our house in his market garden. The advantages are
obvious. Vegetables free of charge the whole year round, and fruit in
season. Eggs to be had for the askin', and a fine, simple, honest feller
like Ben, to chat to of an evening. What could be more delightful?'

Ben looked very grave at this proposal and began: 'I very much doubt
whether there will be enough bed clothes for four people, let alone the
carrots are very nervous of strangers--' when Bill cut him short with a
hearty clap on the back.

'Say no more,' said Bill, handsomely. 'Rough, good-humoured fellers like
us don't need apologies, or any social fal-lals at all. We'll take you
as we find you. Without more ado, we shall build a house in your market
garden.'

And, without more ado, they did.

The picture overleaf saves the trouble of explaining how they built it,
and what a splendid house it is. In order that the Puddin' might have
plenty of exercise, they made him a little Puddin' paddock, whence he
can shout rude remarks to the people passing by; a habit, I grieve to
state, he is very prone to.

[Illustration]

Of course, at night they pull up the ladder in case a stray
puddin'-thief happens to be prowling around. If a friend calls to have a
quiet chat, or to join in a sing-song round the fire, they let the
ladder down for him.

And a very pleasant life they lead, sitting of a summer evening on the
balcony while Ben does his little market-garden jobs below, and the
Puddin' throws bits of bark at the cabbages, and pulls faces at the
little pickle onions, in order to make them squeak with terror.

On winter nights there is always Puddin' and hot coffee for supper, and
many's the good go in I've had up there, a-sitting round the fire.

I didn't mean to let on that I knew their address, on account of so many
people wanting to have a go at the Puddin'. However, it's out now.

When the wind blows and the rain comes down, it's jolly sitting up aloft
in the snug tree-house, especially when old Bill is in good form and
gives us the _Salt Junk Sarah_, with all hands joining in the chorus.

  'Oh, rolling round the ocean,
    From a far and foreign land,
  May suit the common notion
    That a sailor's life is grand.

  'But as for me, I'd sooner be
    A-roaring here at home
  About the rolling, roaring life
    Of them that sails the foam.

  'For the homeward-bounder's chorus,
    Which he roars across the foam,
  Is all about chucking a sailor's life,
    And settling down at home.

  'Home, home, home,
    That's the song of them that roam,
  The song of the roaring, rolling sea
    Is all about rolling home.'







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