Books about Mowgli and Bagheera and Baloo.”
“And Kaa?” Mr Bluenose hissed so loud he had to wipe his chin.
“I thought Kaa was dragging me into the dark, under the macrocarpas.”
“‘We be of one blood, thee and I’,” said Mr Bluenose. “Say that, and you will be safe from Kaa.”
“Wasn’t it scary when the bees stung the Red Dogs to death? But when Kaa hypnotised the Bandar-log, and Baloo and Bagheera nearly walked down his throat with them…I still dream about that.”
Mr Bluenose laughed. “I also am still afraid of Kaa.”
“Do you remember it?”
“I read it aloud to Bagheera, this winter, as your father was reading it to you.”
“Did Bagheera know his name when he heard it?”
“He growled and lashed his tail. Put these in your basket.”
Bagheera had disappeared back into the tunnel, but I called out hooray, patted Horse, scratched the sows’ backs, and ran, eating one of the Granny Smiths and swinging the basket with the other hand.
Juice running down my chin and dripping down my front, I took the short-cut through the fern by the blacksmith’s to dodge Mrs Dainty.
Up the post office steps that were cold today: “Hello, Mr Barker,”—into the baker’s: “Hello, Mrs Besant,”—along to the butcher’s: “Thanks, Mr Cleaver,”—and on to the store.
“Half a pound of Bushells, a reel of white cotton, and the paper, please. Dad’s going to beat me home,” I said to the Kelly girl.
“Mr Bluenose’s kitten, Bagheera, has grown into a black panther,” I told Mr Bryce. “He’s got a friend, a brown bear called Baloo, and they hunt together in the dark tunnel under the macrocarpas. I don’t believe in ghosts, so I’m not scared to go in there.”
Mr Bryce handed me our paper. “You’re very brave.”
“The black panther brought a rat home to show Mr Bluenose, but he had to go outside to see it, because it was too big for Bagheera to drag through the door.”
“How did he kill it?”
“You know the pumpkins Mr Bluenose keeps under the macrocarpas? Bagheera bowled them down the tunnel and squashed the rat flat, like the buffaloes and Shere Khan. And then Bagheera’s friend, Baloo, sat on the rat and squashed it flatter still. Baloo’s pretty fat, you know.”
“Remarkable!” said Mr Bryce, looking for his glasses.
“They’re on top of your head.”
“Thanks. Did you see all this yourself?”
“Mr Bluenose told me a bit, Bagheera told me another bit, and I made up the rest.”
“I see.”
“I’m not really very brave, Mr Bryce. There’s a giant snake called Kaa who lives in the tunnel, and he’s supposed to be my friend, too, but I’m scared he’ll forget and eat me.”
“Give him the Snake’s Call: ‘We be of one blood, thee and I’, and you’ll be okay. Where are those glasses?”
“Her father’ll be wondering where she’s got to,” said the Kelly girl.
“I liked your story about squashing the rat, even if you did pinch the idea out of The Jungle Book.” Mr Bryce gave me a couple of boiled lollies out of the big jar. “I liked Baloo sitting on it and squashing it even flatter.”
I stared. How did Mr Bryce know about Shere Khan’s death and the Snake’s Call? I was so busy wondering about that, I forgot to thank him. I had to get in our gate before it was dark and didn’t want to run into Mrs Dainty, so I only stopped to cough and roar a couple of times outside Freddy Jones’s and make some fresh paw marks, good and big.
Dad had lit the stove. “I was just beginning to think you’d forgotten your way home. Thanks.” He unwrapped the meat. “We’ll prick these sausages, give them a few minutes’ simmer, and pop them in the oven.”
“Mr Cleaver didn’t tell me we were having sausages.”
“Best snarlers in the Waikato. Tea’s going to be late. There’s bread and jam on the bench. Help yourself. Just to keep the wolf from the door.”
While Dad was pricking the sausages and putting them in the saucepan, I
“And Kaa?” Mr Bluenose hissed so loud he had to wipe his chin.
“I thought Kaa was dragging me into the dark, under the macrocarpas.”
“‘We be of one blood, thee and I’,” said Mr Bluenose. “Say that, and you will be safe from Kaa.”
“Wasn’t it scary when the bees stung the Red Dogs to death? But when Kaa hypnotised the Bandar-log, and Baloo and Bagheera nearly walked down his throat with them…I still dream about that.”
Mr Bluenose laughed. “I also am still afraid of Kaa.”
“Do you remember it?”
“I read it aloud to Bagheera, this winter, as your father was reading it to you.”
“Did Bagheera know his name when he heard it?”
“He growled and lashed his tail. Put these in your basket.”
Bagheera had disappeared back into the tunnel, but I called out hooray, patted Horse, scratched the sows’ backs, and ran, eating one of the Granny Smiths and swinging the basket with the other hand.
Juice running down my chin and dripping down my front, I took the short-cut through the fern by the blacksmith’s to dodge Mrs Dainty.
Up the post office steps that were cold today: “Hello, Mr Barker,”—into the baker’s: “Hello, Mrs Besant,”—along to the butcher’s: “Thanks, Mr Cleaver,”—and on to the store.
“Half a pound of Bushells, a reel of white cotton, and the paper, please. Dad’s going to beat me home,” I said to the Kelly girl.
“Mr Bluenose’s kitten, Bagheera, has grown into a black panther,” I told Mr Bryce. “He’s got a friend, a brown bear called Baloo, and they hunt together in the dark tunnel under the macrocarpas. I don’t believe in ghosts, so I’m not scared to go in there.”
Mr Bryce handed me our paper. “You’re very brave.”
“The black panther brought a rat home to show Mr Bluenose, but he had to go outside to see it, because it was too big for Bagheera to drag through the door.”
“How did he kill it?”
“You know the pumpkins Mr Bluenose keeps under the macrocarpas? Bagheera bowled them down the tunnel and squashed the rat flat, like the buffaloes and Shere Khan. And then Bagheera’s friend, Baloo, sat on the rat and squashed it flatter still. Baloo’s pretty fat, you know.”
“Remarkable!” said Mr Bryce, looking for his glasses.
“They’re on top of your head.”
“Thanks. Did you see all this yourself?”
“Mr Bluenose told me a bit, Bagheera told me another bit, and I made up the rest.”
“I see.”
“I’m not really very brave, Mr Bryce. There’s a giant snake called Kaa who lives in the tunnel, and he’s supposed to be my friend, too, but I’m scared he’ll forget and eat me.”
“Give him the Snake’s Call: ‘We be of one blood, thee and I’, and you’ll be okay. Where are those glasses?”
“Her father’ll be wondering where she’s got to,” said the Kelly girl.
“I liked your story about squashing the rat, even if you did pinch the idea out of The Jungle Book.” Mr Bryce gave me a couple of boiled lollies out of the big jar. “I liked Baloo sitting on it and squashing it even flatter.”
I stared. How did Mr Bryce know about Shere Khan’s death and the Snake’s Call? I was so busy wondering about that, I forgot to thank him. I had to get in our gate before it was dark and didn’t want to run into Mrs Dainty, so I only stopped to cough and roar a couple of times outside Freddy Jones’s and make some fresh paw marks, good and big.
Dad had lit the stove. “I was just beginning to think you’d forgotten your way home. Thanks.” He unwrapped the meat. “We’ll prick these sausages, give them a few minutes’ simmer, and pop them in the oven.”
“Mr Cleaver didn’t tell me we were having sausages.”
“Best snarlers in the Waikato. Tea’s going to be late. There’s bread and jam on the bench. Help yourself. Just to keep the wolf from the door.”
While Dad was pricking the sausages and putting them in the saucepan, I
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