Part 9 (1/2)

'Aye,' said Tobermory at his gruffest, 'and by the looks of things you've done well for yourself. So there you are, Orinoco; a nice mess you've made of things to be sure. Come in so I can close the door. The weather's turned, but it's still chilly. Well done, Bungo,' and for a second his grey paw touched Bungo's shoulder, and then he was hurrying off down the pa.s.sage, blowing out the lantern as he went.

'You'd better go and have something to eat,' Tobermory called over his shoulder. 'Madame Cholet's waiting for you.'

'I've brought some food,' said Orinoco, 'quite a lot of it.'

But Tobermory had already gone on with Cousin Yellowstone, and so the two young Wombles stumbled into the nice bright kitchen where Madame Cholet was stirring something hot and savoury-smelling on the stove, and Alderney was chopping up gra.s.s in a very professional manner.

'Well, well, well,' said Madame Cholet, 'take off your wet things and put them there to dry. I never saw such a sorry-looking pair of Wombles in my whole life. Good gracious, what is this?'

For Orinoco had tipped up his shopping basket and the food was spilling across the floor. Bungo added his half loaf and three Christmas stockings and Madame Cholet sat down on the nearest chair and fanned her face and Alderney plumped down on her knees and picked up the pretty packets and paper bags with cries of delight.

'It's to make up for you-know-what,' said Orinoco.

'Is it, indeed?' said Madame Cholet. 'Well, whatever it may be I'm sure it's all over and done with now. Sit down and have your porridge and then you can tell me about your adventures.'

The adventures lost nothing in the telling and although Wombles don't lie perhaps Bungo and Orinoco did make the most of what had been happening to them.

'Chased you out of the shop!' said Madame Cholet to Orinoco, her eyes wide with horror.

'Well, not exactly chased perhaps,' said Orinoco, s.h.i.+fting round on his stool, 'but this Human Being did sort of take hold of my scarf. He was quite polite, but he didn't let go until I was in the street again. He was wearing a coat with tails on it.'

'Tails! Never!' said Madame Cholet, throwing up her paws.

'Tails,' said Orinoco firmly. 'May I sc.r.a.pe out the saucepan, please?'

Which showed that he was fast recovering from all his harrowing experiences experiences which were at this very moment being recited to Great Uncle Bulgaria by Cousin Yellowstone. The oldest Womble had hardly been able to believe his eyes when that elegant American relation first entered his room. He had got up very slowly from his rocking chair and looked through one pair of spectacles and then the other and then both at once while Tobermory stood smiling in his rather grim way by the door.

'Yellowstone?' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'I did hear a rumour many years ago that you might have got to America, but I never knew whether it was true or not.'

'It sure was,' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'My, it's good to see you again, Uncle Bulgaria. Or perhaps I should say Great Uncle Bulgaria now to avoid confusion. You're just the same.'

'No, I'm not. You're thinking what an old doddery Womble I've become, and in those days my fur was only starting to turn grey. Yours was dark brown I recall. Well, sit down, sit down.'

And he clasped Yellowstone's paw and patted it fiercely before leading him to a chair.

'And now, my dear fellow,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, 'were you really kidnapped in er '14, wasn't it?'

'Spring of '15,' said Yellowstone, holding out his paws to the fire. 'I was a foolish young Womble in those days. Thought I knew everything and the answer to it . . .'

'They all do,' agreed Great Uncle Bulgaria, 'which reminds me, Tobermory, you might tell Bungo and Orinoco that I'd like a word with the pair of them in the morning. So sorry, Yellowstone, pray proceed.'

'It had been a hard winter for us, rather like this one,' said Cousin Yellowstone, whose bright eyes had not missed the sorry condition of his two old friends, although he was naturally far too polite to refer to it directly, 'and I went off early one morning to make my fortune. Rather like your young Orinoco, I fancy. I believe I got about as far as Putney Bridge, when a policeman came up to me and asked what I was doing. Naturally I told him and the next thing I knew I was being marched off to the station house. In those days Human Beings were nervous about spies and enemy agents. I was questioned at great length and, of course, I had to stay silent a lot of the time otherwise . . .' and he shrugged.

'Quite, quite,' agreed Great Uncle Bulgaria.

'So they locked me up. It wasn't too difficult to get free. I had been working with Tobermory in the store and knew quite a lot about locks and keys. But I was now a hunted Womble and, I'll admit, panicky. Instead of making for Wimbledon I struck east and I eventually found myself in the dock areas. Some sailors were having a fight and soon the cops er, policemen came running up blowing their whistles. In my fear that it was me that they were after I took refuge on the first s.h.i.+p I came upon and there, quite exhausted, I went to sleep.'

'And woke up in America?' prompted Tobermory.

'No, indeed. In Lisbon, Portugal.'

'Dear me,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, polis.h.i.+ng his spectacles on his tartan shawl. 'And then?'

'I moved from s.h.i.+p to s.h.i.+p, always trying to get home and yet somehow managing to travel further and further away. I visited many places, Africa which I may tell you is no place for Wombles as it's far too hot then on again to India, where I met a most charming and cultivated Womble who had himself travelled down from the Khyber Pa.s.s. Did you know there was a Womble community there?'

'I had heard it talked of in my youth,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, nodding.

'Is that right? This Womble's name was Quetta and we got on very well. I liked him and would have stayed, but by that time travel was in my blood. One thing he did tell me was that there were some snow-white Wombles, larger than us, up in the Himalayas in Tibet. Only there they go under a different name. Jeti or some such.'

'Really?' said Tobermory, who had just slipped back into the room after delivering Great Uncle Bulgaria's message to the two young Wombles. 'I didn't know that. Fascinating.'

'Then there was Melbourne, Australia. Christchurch, New Zealand both have Womble communities who were most welcoming and then I did the long Pacific haul and found myself in Canada . . .'

Cousin Yellowstone's voice died away and his eyes narrowed as he recalled those bitter months in the snows when he had so nearly died. He had run across traces of other Wombles, but they had all gone underground to sit out the winter, and so, slowly and painfully, he had made his way south to the United States. He s.h.i.+vered at the memory and then went on more cheerfully, 'And so I came to the States and it was there that I found a most flouris.h.i.+ng community. They were very old-established and had travelled out shortly after the Mayflower and had settled down in Yellowstone Park. As you may recall that was the very name which I had always liked and had chosen for my own. It seemed such a good omen that I stayed. I meant it to be for just a short while, but time pa.s.ses . . .'

'How very, very interesting,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'And you make a good living?'

'Fantastic,' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'You would not believe just how much American Human Beings leave lying around. Why, do you know that nearly every Womble in the States could run a Cadillac if he so desired.'

Tobermory started slightly at this, but neither of the other two noticed it.

'However, most of us prefer to travel by paw. It's healthier and more independent. Yes, gentlemen, Womble-wise, the States is a great country. But enough of me and my affairs. I trust you didn't want this Orinoco to follow in my pawprints at least not yet awhile?'

'Far too young and silly,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'How did you come across him and Bungo?'

And so Cousin Yellowstone filled in his side of the story and Great Uncle Bulgaria and Tobermory listened and chuckled and said 'tsk, tsk' and 'ho-hum' as the case might be.

'I trust you're not going to be too hard on him?' said Cousin Yellowstone finally.

'No, no, he's learnt his lesson,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria, 'and he appears to have brought back some food, which is useful. Things have been a little short with us recently.'

'If a loan would be of any help . . .' suggested Cousin Yellowstone, reaching for his wallet.

'No, no, wouldn't dream of it, thanks all the same,' said Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'Anyhow, what with Orinoco's two contributions and Bungo's and the thaw setting in at last we'll be all right again.'

'The trouble is, you see,' said Tobermory, scratching his ear with a screwdriver, 'we can't store sufficient quant.i.ties of food. There's plenty of it about in the warmer months, but we're unable to keep it for any length of time, apart from the bottled goods of course.'

'Is that right?' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'Well, a Womble with your brains should be able to solve the problem. What you need is a Deep Freeze.'

'A deep what?' said Tobermory, scratching harder than ever.

'Freeze,' said Cousin Yellowstone. 'First thing tomorrow I'll try and explain how it works.'

'I suppose we couldn't start now?' said Tobermory hopefully.

'No, we could NOT,' snapped Great Uncle Bulgaria. 'I want to have a nice civilised talk. Now tell me, Yellowstone, do you remember the time in '12 or was it '13 that we had that perfectly splendid Midsummer party and . . .'

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