Part 3 (1/2)

'I'm here.'

He moved as he said it, and his grasp slackened, and the tree gave another of its awful deep groaning sighs, and this time the ground was too muddy for Tomsk's paws to grip any longer and although he hung on with all his strength it was of no use. For the tree had moved just that inch too much and now its power was greater than that of Tomsk. But of course a Womble, however exhausted he may be, just will not leave go, so Tomsk clung on, and as Great Uncle Bulgaria lifted up the storm lantern against the sheets of rain, the four Wombles in the doorway saw Tomsk slowly rise against the darkness of the black wet sky.

'Let go,' shouted Great Uncle Bulgaria.

But Tomsk's muscles had been gripping that tree for so long that they just could not relax. Tobermory, closely followed by Bungo and Orinoco, lunged through the sopping bushes, but they were too late. For one moment it seemed as if they would just grasp Tomsk's dangling paws and then with the most tremendous crash the tree toppled sideways and its roots shot up into the air and Tomsk went with them.

Mud and leaves, twigs and bushes, flew in all directions and there was a great deal of noise and then silence except for the rain.

'Tomsk,' called Great Uncle Bulgaria, and if there was a slight shake in his voice n.o.body but he noticed it.

'Up here,' called Tomsk huskily, and as Great Uncle Bulgaria raised the lantern they could just make out the dark shadow of Tomsk among the roots.

'I'll get him,' said Tobermory. 'Bungo, Orinoco, follow me.'

Their eyes had got used to the darkness and they plunged through the bushes to where the tree was balancing like a see-saw with all the branches at one end and Tomsk at the other. It was caught in the fork of another tree, and Tobermory s.h.i.+nned up it and then pulled the other two Wombles after him.

'I'll slide down towards Tomsk,' he said. 'You two hold the tree steady here.'

Orinoco and Bungo edged round, one on either side of the balancing tree, and braced their back paws against it and wound their front paws round the two branches, and then very slowly and cautiously Tobermory slid down the wet trunk, which shook and s.h.i.+vered and groaned and then began to tip down towards the ground. Tomsk, who had been jolted and jarred and shaken almost out of his senses, just clung on until he heard Tobermory's heavy breathing, and two strong paws very gently but firmly unclasped his own. And then with a cry and a thud Tomsk fell to the ground and lay there.

'Up you get,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria's voice, and Tomsk looked up, and through the dripping twigs he saw a sou'wester and a pair of spectacles and a storm lantern. So he got up, but very stiffly, and his teeth were chattering with cold and tiredness.

'March,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'One two, one two, back to the burrow with you.'

'The tree,' said Tomsk in a whisper.

'It fell away from the burrow, so there's nothing to worry about,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria briskly. 'Now I don't want to get wet through at my time of life, even if you do. Hurry up, there's a good Womble.'

And so a very weary, wet and bedraggled Tomsk shuffled through the bushes to the door of the burrow where he was joined by the others.

'It wasn't my fault, really it wasn't,' said Tomsk, who could hardly keep his eyes open, and who was yawning yawn after yawn so that his face felt as if it were splitting in two.

''Course it wasn't,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'In with you. My word, what a sight you are, to be sure. I've never seen such a drowned-looking Womble in my life before.'

'I'll leave two dirty pawmarks this time,' said Tomsk, looking doubtfully at Tobermory.

'Well, the floor'll clean, I suppose,' barked Tobermory who, like Great Uncle Bulgaria, was showing his relief at finding Tomsk all in one piece by being very gruff.

'And there are cracks in the wall. I sort of made one of them,' went on Tomsk, who liked to take troubles one at a time.

'So I noticed,' agreed Tobermory. 'That tree'll make nice useful props. I've thought for a long time that we needed some new building in this bit of the burrow. We'll start on it first thing in the morning. Bungo, Orinoco, pick up those boots and raincoats and put them in the Workshop. Then get a broom and sweep up this lot and shut the door. I'll nail a board across the bottom and that'll hold the mud back for the present.'

In any other circ.u.mstances Bungo and Orinoco might well have started grumbling at this point, but for once both those young Wombles felt thoroughly subdued, so they hurried off without a word to do as they were told, and by the time they had finished they were yawning almost as much as Tomsk had been.

'He must have been hanging on to that tree for hours,' said Orinoco, leaning on his broom.

'Hours and hours,' agreed Bungo.

The two young Wombles looked at each other, thinking their own thoughts. Would either of them have been brave enough or determined enough to do the same thing? They weren't at all sure about it, so they both decided to keep quiet on the subject.

'I tell you what,' said Bungo, 'let's go and clear up that mess we made in the Workshop. We might as well while we're at it.'

'I'm ever so hungry,' said Orinoco. 'Oh, all right then. Perhaps if we do Great Uncle Bulgaria won't be too furious with us.'

As it happened the wet paper fight in the Workshop was never mentioned again, although the threat of it did hang over the heads of Bungo and Orinoco for some while. Great Uncle Bulgaria watched them with a thoughtful expression and once or twice he had to put up his paw to hide a smile when he noticed the new, respectful way in which they now treated Tomsk.

'Ho-hum,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria to himself and got out the plans which Tobermory had made for strengthening the burrow against further tree falls, landslides and floods.

'Concrete,' muttered Great Uncle Bulgaria, reading Tobermory's neat list of building materials. 'Now where could we Wombles possibly find some concrete, I wonder . . . ?'

g*

Chapter 5.

g*Bungo and the Concrete Mixer There's a saying that troubles always come in threes, but when Tobermory happened to mention this rather unwisely to Great Uncle Bulgaria the old Womble said crossly, 'I'm perfectly well aware of it. And I'd like to point out that there's another motto you might do well to remember. Never meet trouble halfway.'

'There's going to be trouble, all the same,' said Tobermory, who always liked to look on the black side of things. He took his screwdriver from behind his ear and tapped the map on the wall. 'And that's where it'll come. Good morning.'

And he went off leaving Great Uncle Bulgaria scowling and looking so fierce that when pretty little Alderney brought him in his mid-morning cup of hot bracken juice, she was quite scared and nearly upset it.

'Do you think something dreadful's going to happen?' Alderney asked Bungo when he came out of the Workshop. 'Great Uncle Bulgaria looked ever so cross.'

'Never,' said Bungo. 'Don't you worry; we working Wombles'll look after everything.'

'I'm a working Womble too,' said Alderney, who had just started helping in the kitchens. She wasn't allowed to do much yet, but it made her feel very important when she was sent off with the trolley piled high with cakes, buns and biscuits and a big steaming urn of bracken juice. She did it twice a day, in the middle of the mornings and the afternoons, and as the Common was still very wet and muddy Great Uncle Bulgaria had ordered all work there to be stopped for the time being. So every working Womble was now employed in the burrow, either sorting in the Workshop or helping Tobermory put up wooden planks to strengthen the walls, ceilings and floors. This meant, of course, that Alderney was kept very busy, as there's nothing like sawing, hammering and sorting to put an edge on a Womble's appet.i.te. Or anybody else's, for that matter.

'I wouldn't mind having your job,' said Orinoco, squeezing through the queue and looking at the food with his eyes glistening.

'There wouldn't be anything left for anybody else if you did,' said Bungo.

At which everybody else laughed and Orinoco turned his back and pretended not to hear as he carefully chose the three largest chocolate and peppermint buns. Alderney stopped looking anxious and went off down the pa.s.sage ringing the bell at the side of her trolley so that the other Wombles would know she was coming.

However, in spite of his firm words, Bungo's mind was bothered by doubts. He was sensible and observant enough to notice that some of the floors had sunk a little and that every now and then a few drops of water would drip through the ceilings. It gave him a nasty feeling in his inside to realise that the nice comfortable burrow he had known all his life might not be so safe after all. It even made him lose his appet.i.te a bit, so that he couldn't eat all his berry biscuit; but as Orinoco generously offered to finish it for him it wasn't wasted.

As soon as work was over, Bungo went to sit near some of the older Wombles in the Common Room. And by keeping his ears open and his mouth shut which was a great effort for Bungo he soon learnt that what was needed to make every- thing safe again was some stuff mysteriously called concrete.

'What is it?' Bungo asked Tomsk.

'White stuff,' said Tomsk somewhat breathlessly. He was doing his exercises, lying on his back and pedalling with his feet in the air.

'Like flour?' asked Bungo.

'Sort of, I think,' said Tomsk, rolling over and starting on his press-ups. 'One, two, three, four . . .'

'Flour's what you make cakes out of,' volunteered Orinoco. 'I don't think you use it for buildings and things. Do you know, it makes me feel quite tired watching Tomsk. I think I'll just have . . .'