Every one who knew Tiny Thumbcake loved him. He was one of eleven brothers and sisters, and the smallest mite that was ever born in the land of the cornstalk.
Tiny, though very diminutive in body, was nevertheless a hardy fellow who could run and jump like a kangaroo; moreover, he possessed the gift of knowing the language of all animals and birds, and these nicknamed him “Hop-o’-my-thumb.”
The Thumbcakes were poor people, and Tiny, who loved the wild bush, determined to try his fortune as a pioneer squatter. In conversation with an old wallaby, who used to pay him periodical visits, Tiny learned that there was a vast district owned by a giant aborigine named “Slubber,” where no white man had ever been and which was supposed by everybody to be a dreary wilderness without river, or lake, or anything to sustain life in the way of game. Tiny Thumbcake, or as we [326]shall call him, Hop-o’-my-thumb, was both surprised and delighted at the news imparted to him by the wallaby—namely, that the Unknown Country, ruled over by Slubber the Giant, was both beautiful and fertile, and one of the finest climates under the Southern Cross.
And so in due time, guided by the faithful wallaby, our hero came to the country of Slubber, and took up his abode in a rich and well-watered valley, beside a high mountain, and here he formed a fine station for rearing cattle and sheep. For a whole year our little man remained hard at work unmolested.
One fine summer day a scarlet and green parrot alighted near where the little squatter was at work on his orchard fence.
“Good-day, Hop-o’-my-thumb,” said the bird.
“Good-day, my friend,” returned the wee man, politely raising his hat and bowing. “I’m glad to see you. What can I do for you, eh?”
“Nothing at present, thank you. I was sent by King Stork to warn you that Slubber the Giant is on his way here to destroy you,” answered the parrot.
Poor Hop-o’-my-thumb, though not wanting in pluck, became much disturbed at the news. “Are you quite certain of what you say?” he asked of the parrot. [327]
“Oh, quite,” rejoined the messenger decidedly. “King Stork and the giant are great friends. He heard Slubber say that he would slay you or any white riff-raff who dared to set foot in his territory, and saw him start off straightway down the mountain to carry out his threat, therefore I posted off to warn you.”
“Thank you very much,” said poor Hop-o’-my-thumb. “Slubber is a big, selfish wretch. I have as much right to make a home here as he has, and I mean to show him I am not at all afraid of his bullying.”
“Bravo!” cried the parrot, flapping his wings in glee. “You’re a lad of mettle, and I’m glad you intend to try and take the blackfellow down a peg. Do you know, he is the most vile beast living and a great liar. Don’t trust him a bit. If he finds he cannot kill you with his huge waddy, or spear you unawares, he will want to parley with you, and take you on his knee, in friendly fashion. Be careful, Hop, my boy. Don’t let the wretch lay a finger on you, if you can help it”.
“Thank you, I’ll take every precaution,” said Hop-o’-my-thumb coolly.
“We all like you very much, my dear little Hop,” added the bird kindly; “what is more, we are determined to help you against Slubber if we [328]can. Your friend Jack, the wallaby, is waiting behind yonder ridge, with some possum friends and one or two native bears, in case you need assistance. Hark! Do you hear that noise? That’s the giant; he hasn’t lost much time on the road. Look! Yonder he comes.”
Half way down the mountain-side a gigantic blackfellow, tall as a tree, and with a great woolly head (not unlike the big ball that is hoisted at noon on the flagstaff at the Observatory), came thundering down the stony ridges in tremendous leaps and bounds, and at the same time roaring out a hoarse shout of vengeance. He was quite nude, save for a segment of covering round his middle, and he brandished aloft a monstrous waddy, which was large enough to have felled an elephant.
“Where is that insignificant rascal who has dared to enter the domain of Slubber?” cried the angry monster, striding into the valley and confronting our hero, who did not flinch in the least before his dreaded enemy.
“Now, mite, what hast thou to say ere I slay thee?” cried the giant, at the same time whirling his club round his head with a noise like thunder.
“Try it,” said Hop-o’-my-thumb, keenly watching every movement of his adversary. [329]
“ ‘THOU ART VERY STRONG FOR SO SMALL A MAN.’ ”
“Insolent atom, take that,” and Slubber aimed a blow at the little fellow, which if it had taken effect would have crushed our hero into a pulp; but Hop-o’-my-thumb nimbly avoided the giant’s bludgeon, and getting between the monster’s legs, gave him a cut with a sharp adze he had been using, which made Slubber roar with pain. It might have gone hard with the brave wee squatter at this moment, for the giant, reaching down, was about to clutch his small assailant, when the [330]parrot came to the rescue. He flew full butt against Slubber’s face and nearly blinded him, and Hop-o’-my-thumb, taking full advantage of the bird’s help, gave his ugly foe such a slashing about his legs that the giant fell broadcast on his back, which made the ground tremble like an earthquake.
Seeing the unexpected and stout resistance made by our little hero, Slubber the Giant was fain to call a parley.
“Thou art very strong for so small a man,” cried he ruefully, and at the same time rubbing his smarting shins. “What sayest thou, wilt thou do me a service? And in return thou and thine shall have this valley of sweet waters for thy pains, to do with it what ye will.”
“What is the service you want to be performed?” said Hop-o’-my-thumb.
“Come nearer, and I will tell thee.”
“No, not an inch,” cried the little fellow stoutly. “You are near enough, my friend. Tell me what I am to do. I can hear you.”
“Oh, very well,” responded Slubber sullenly. “Know, then, that I have a wife.”
“I wish I had one,” interrupted Hop-o’-my-thumb.
“Thou shalt have mine with pleasure,” retorted the giant quickly. [331]
The little squatter laughed. “Nay,” he said, “it is against the law to take anything belonging to another. Well, you were saying you have a wife.”
“True, I have a wife and, I may add, one of the most inquisitive of her sex,” added the giant in quite a humble tone, which contrasted strangely with his previous bombast. “Know, then, O mite, King Stork propounded three riddles to my wife, each one full of mystery, and my life is plagued out of me day and night by her to find an answer to these problems. Now, if thou canst find the secret of these things the land is thine for all time.”
“What are the riddles?” inquired Hop-o’-my-thumb.
The giant reflected a moment and then replied,—
“The first is: What is the most wonderful animal in the world? Second: What shoemaker makes shoes without leather, but uses instead earth, water, air, and fire, and where each of his customers wears two pairs at a time? Third: What is seen in the sky, also in the water, and sometimes on men’s breasts which, being reversed, is the name for the very worst kind of vermin? Come now, O thou bull ant, canst thou explain these enigmas?”
Poor Hop-o’-my-thumb seemed dismayed for [332]a moment. He wanted to conciliate the giant, but how was he to frame a reply to these three difficult questions? In the midst of his cogitations he bethought him of his friend the wallaby.
“If Slubber will give me a little time, I believe I can answer the questions,” said the little man with confidence. The giant assented readily.
Hop-o’-my-thumb, guided by the parrot, sought out the old wallaby, to whom he confided his trouble.
“Nothing easier, my boy,” said the animal, stroking his head with his paw. “A word in your ear. These riddles are the secrets of our King and must not be made known to every one.”
Then the old wallaby whispered what Hop-o’-my-thumb wanted to know, and the latter, smiling, went back to the giant Slubber.
“Well, hast thou the answers, mite?” he said.
“Oh yes,” replied our hero cautiously, “but how am I to know you will keep your word with me?”
The giant laughed. Then he lay full length upon the sward, and plucking a long hair from his beard laid it across his nose. “Will that condition satisfy you?” he said in a rage, for Slubber knew he dare not break that form of oath. [333]
“Then,” said Hop-o’-my-thumb, “the most wonderful animal in the world is a pig; for it is first killed and then cured.”
“Good!” cried Slubber.
“The next,” continued Hop-o’-my-thumb, “is—What shoemaker makes shoes without leather? Why, a horseshoer, for he uses earth, air, water, fire, in shaping his wares, and each of his customers wears two pairs.”
“Bravo! Let me embrace you,” entreated the giant.
“No you don’t,” responded the little man, with a grin. “Now for your third question. What is seen in the sky, the water, and sometimes on men’s breasts? A star, of course. Reverse the spelling of star and it is rats. Are you satisfied?”
And Slubber, the black giant, wended his way home over the mountain again, a wiser man; and ever after Hop-o’-my-thumb lived in peace. [334]
Here are low green hills and sharply outlined ridges strewn with great white blocks of quartz, gleaming in the morning sunlight. Adown the long eastern slope for miles there is a vista of park-like forest, where the wallaroo and kangaroo leap and gambol on the greensward; where green and gold parrots chatter and scream; where wild bees are humming to the morn, and where the eagle soars calm and peerless in the sapphire firmament.
One solitary figure dots this glorious landscape—a handsome, well-formed boy, with a swag upon his back, tramping slowly along the narrow track like unto one who would fain rest and eat. There is not the sign of any habitation in view; nothing but the matchless sunshine and the hills and valleys gleaming beneath in one great halo of golden glory.
Towards evening our traveller, emerging upon a lonely glade, threw off his swag and cast himself [335]upon the soft sward and so fell asleep. When he awoke it was night, the dark blue canopy overhead was ablaze with stars. Looking round he was greatly astonished to observe the space before him aglow with a soft, subdued light, which was neither from the sun, the moon, nor the stars, but was produced by countless glow-worms and fire-flies combined, and who had formed broad festoons from tree to tree and so lit up the dell by enchantment.
Damper—for so was the wayfarer named, on account of his fondness for that Australian made cake—rubbed his eyes in great surprise, and also gave himself one or two severe punches to make certain that he was awake. The poor lad was without father or mother, and had tramped about the bush since he could walk, doing odd jobs for cockatoos (small farmers) and such-like; but a sight like this had never met his view before. His first impulse was to call out, but his voice refused its office; for at that moment he beheld a troop of black mites, no larger than his finger, march from out the gloom beyond into the radius of the light. They were all sheathed in mail armour and came onward with quick and regular step, four a-breast, their shields and spears flashing and sparkling like so many rare jewels in the sun. [336]They ranged themselves in regular order, shoulder to shoulder, on one side of the dell.
Then there came a second squad, equally tiny in stature, but bravely attired in cloth of gold, with miniature swords clashing and banners waving; and these formed up on the sward, opposite the first troop.
And lo! as Damper gazed in consternation, there appeared a third group; white people these, not so tall as a lady’s thimble, without weapons, and robed in the most quaint fashions imaginable: some were clad in gossamer from head to heel; many had cloaks spun from wild bees’ wings; others were donned in all the gaudy colours of the dragon fly; and one and all of them appeared dancing mad.
Now here, now there; in and out; up and down; in whirling mazes, they moved like the sun flashes on some bright instrument, and too quick sometimes for the eye to follow their evolutions. It was altogether a fantastic scene, and one that the eye of mortal man is rarely permitted to look upon.
For some time poor Damper was beside himself with fear. Fortunately he remained very still and quiet, and was enabled to see everything that took place, without the elves being in the least degree aware of the mortal’s close proximity. [337]
The antic gambols were so strange and grotesque that Damper had no definite idea how long they continued, or who piped the music for the occasion. One thing was clear to him, however, that the whole scene vanished as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only two of the fairy assembly, who without more ado came and perched themselves upon Damper’s swag, and began a conversation. This pair, it was evident, were the King and Queen of Elfland, who, after discussing several affairs of State, spoke of a magic whistle, hidden away among the roots of a certain tree in the dell.
Damper, although he understood and could hear every word uttered by their Majesties, paid little heed to what they said until the topic of the whistle began. Then he listened greedily. He soon learned that whoever had possession of this simple instrument held the wand of a magician over animal, bird, or man, and that if he pleased to pipe, man, bird, or animal within its sound must needs dance.
The hiding-place of this wonderful instrument was very minutely described by the King, so that when the royal pair had taken their departure, Damper determined to become possessed of it When day broke our hero arose and began his search. He had no difficulty in finding the tree, [338]and he soon found the whistle. It was a stout reed, about six inches long, with a mouthpiece of pure gold.
Numbers of birds, from the wren to a stork, were about and around, singing their morning song. To test the efficacy of his prize, Damper placed the whistle to his mouth and began to play. The effect was indeed wonderful. Not a bird but suddenly ceased its song and began to hop and dance about in the most absurd and comical manner, that our hero had to cease playing in order to laugh.
“Oh! I think you will just be of some service to me,” he said, putting the whistle in his pocket. Then he shouldered his swag and continued his journey.
He had not proceeded far when there approached from the opposite direction a very fat woman in a covered van with her husband, who was a very little man. He was on foot, driving the horse. The woman seemed in a bad temper, and was abusing her companion soundly.
Damper stopped the cart and asked the dame for a little food. “Go on with you for an idle vagabond!” she cried, shaking her huge fist at the boy. “There are far too many of your sort about the country already. I only wish we were near [339]a township so that I might have the pleasure of sending you to the lock-up, you loafing rascal.”
Such uncalled-for abuse roused Damper’s ire. Without uttering a word in reply he took out his whistle and began to blow. Instantly the fat dame leapt from the trap into the road and began whirling round and round with all her might, and anon throwing herself into such ridiculous postures that the little man, her husband, and even the horse began to laugh; but their laugh was of short duration, for they also were drawn into the dance, and the pony being securely harnessed upset the conveyance and scattered its contents all over the sward.
In the meantime the unfortunate woman, puffing and blowing like a grampus, cut some very extraordinary capers under the irresistible spell of the whistle. What seemed to be part of a wild Highland reel merged into the antics of a sort of Maori war-dance, and it was wonderful to note the agility displayed by so stout a person.
The piper himself felt too indignant to laugh, otherwise the good dame’s gambols would have been of brief duration. Not before all the breath had been jolted out of her anatomy did she plead for parley. Then in gasps she called out to him [340]to “stop for mercy’s sake, and she would give him all the tucker in the cart.”
Our hero was by no means a bad-hearted fellow. When he saw the woman had been punished for her very rude behaviour he put the whistle aside, and assisted to raise the pony and restore the goods to the trap. Afterwards they dined together and parted on friendly terms.
Arriving late that night at a farmhouse on the billabong, Damper craved a night’s shelter, which was given him. In the morning he asked for work.
“What can you do?” said the farmer.
“Oh, anything almost. I can make you dance,” answered Damper.
“Yes. And, by George, you’ll find I’ll make you dance, my lad, if you talk to me like that!” retorted the farmer angrily; and so poor Damper was compelled to hump his swag farther afield.
The weather was fine, however, and the lad’s heart light; so he went singing along the bush track, until he was suddenly brought to a stand-still by a gruff command, “To bail up!” Right across the track he saw a big, bearded bushranger, splendidly mounted, who, seeing he was but a youth, put back his revolvers and dismounted.
Before the ruffian could approach him, however, [341]Damper pulled out his whistle and began to play. Instantly the man and horse began their capers with one accord, and it was not until the robber had fallen exhausted on the track that our hero ceased whistling.
“I pray thee put by that dreadful thing,” said the panting outlaw, “and I will fill thy pouch with gold.”
“Not a bit of it,” said Damper resolutely; “my terms are that you hand over to me every item of your ill-gotten treasure, horse included, else you shall dance for it, my honey.”
The robber commencing to curse and swear, Damper placed the whistle to his mouth again.
“Stop! Stop! I yield to thy terms, boy,” cried the other imploringly.
“Very well. Hand over your revolver. Now that belt round your waist. Now take off your boots and depart in double-quick time.”
The bushranger did not need to be told twice. He fled away into the bush and was lost to sight in a moment.
Damper found the robber’s belt filled with gold. He mounted the horse and rode away. And no lad in the whole continent was happier than he was that day. [342]
An outcast in a great city. Half-clad, half-starved, kicked and cuffed, and sworn at, as if he were no better than a mongrel cur, wretched Jack Cochrane felt that he was a useless unit in the world.
Jack was a foundling, God help him! First one and then another had taken him in hand, to rear him in the way he should go and make a decent member of society of him; but the charitable intentions of his godfathers and godmothers had evidently failed, for here he stood on this cold winter’s night, a full-grown youth, utterly unlettered, shivering in the keen wind, like a puppy in a wet sack.
To most of the young ragamuffins of his class he was known by the nickname of “Cocky,” and while he stood beneath a lamp-post, thinking how [343]nice and comfortable it would be to tumble into a warm bed, half a dozen city waifs like himself came roystering by.
“Hello, Cocky! Where’r you going to doss to-night? Biler, or gas-pipe? Don’t you go on the wharf—there’s two coppers waitin’ there. Wouldn’t a saveloy hot or a tater go down slick, eh? So-long! Cocky, old man!” and the squad of shoeless young vagabonds went laughing on their way.
“I must try and get in and have a snooze somewhere,” muttered the lad, blowing on his finger-tips to warm them. “There’s the railway—I wonder if I could find a truck with a tarpaulin on it? I will try.”
The idea is acted on at once. Cocky soon finds a line of trucks covered well from the weather, into one of which he quietly creeps, and finding it snug and warm is soon fast asleep.
When he awakes it is daylight, and the sun is shining; peeping out from his cover, Cocky discovers he is far away from the city. He has been an unbooked passenger by a goods train which has travelled all night and carried him while he slept into the heart of the country.
Luckily, the train happens to be stationary at a lonely bush siding, and Cocky makes his way [344]out of the truck and away into the scrub without being discovered. Hurrying away from the direction of the railway siding, Cocky finds himself near sundown on a narrow pathway leading over a range of high hills into a deep valley without trees, and where stands a solitary hut. An old man, much bent in form, and whose hair and beard looked as if they had not been shorn since he was born, stood at the door and gazed at our hero very curiously.
“Please could you give me a morsel to eat?” said poor Cocky, halting, faint and tired.
“Hum! You had better go farther if you fare worse,” answered the old man.
“I can’t go any farther,” said the boy. “I’m done up completely. Pray let me stay here to-night,” he pleaded.
“Hum! Rum-fuddle-em-fee! Very well. What can you do?” questioned the old fellow, his eyes glinting and glowering upon poor Cocky in a most remarkable manner, like a cat’s eyes seen in the dark.
“Do?” repeated the lad boldly. “Oh, I’ll do anything if you will give me some food and find me somewhere to sleep.”
“Bunkum Geezer,” muttered the toothless old fellow in reply. “You shall have all you want, [345]but you must do my bidding; otherwise you shall not leave this valley alive. Do you hear?”
Cocky was desperate with all a lad’s gnawing hunger, so he answered, “All right. Trot out the tucker.”
Close by the hut stood a magnificent fir-tree, whose branches formed a canopy impervious to dew or rain. Beneath it stood a table already spread with dainty food. With a wave of his hand the old man pointed this out to Cocky, and said,—
“Go, eat. Your couch will be beneath the tree also. When you have eaten, sleep well, for to-morrow you will have to work—to work hard, boy.” Saying which, he went into the hut and closed the door.
The famishing lad did not need a second invitation to dine. He found a stool by the table and sat down and began his dinner. There were many joints and dishes which the waif had never seen before, but they were very nice. In the midst of his repast a fine-looking magpie came fluttering down from the tree, and perching on one end of the table, eyed our hero inquisitively.
“Hallo! Who are you?” said the boy.
“Never you mind, Jack Cochrane. Can I have something to eat?” [346]
“Of course you can,” answered the lad, after his first start of surprise. “What’ll you have? Here’s baked snails, stewed kangaroo, fried wallaby, native companion on toast, with a lot of other things.”
But the magpie without more ado perched himself upon a huge rabbit pie and began to help himself to its contents.
“Here, I say, old fellow, how do you know my name?” said Cocky, after a long pause, in which he had been staring wonderingly at the strange bird.
“I know most things,” replied the magpie, whetting his beak on the table-cloth, preparatory to an attack on another dish. “I know that you have got into a very dangerous place, and that if you do not get counsel and help you will assuredly lose your life.”
“That’s pleasant. But who will kill me?” said Cocky, laughing.
“The old man. He’s a terrible magician, Jack. It would have been better for you not to have come here.”
“That’s just what the old rascal said himself. But why can’t I go when I like? He’s in the hut, fast asleep by this time.”
“No. Don’t attempt to run away, Jack,” said [347]the magpie gravely. “Old Gruff would be certain to know and would trap you like a fox before you were out of the valley. You have been kind in sharing your dinner with me and I will help you, Jack. Kindness goes a long way with us. We never forget those who have once befriended us, Cocky Cochrane.”
“Who are you, then?” inquired the boy, with mouth agape in wonder.
“Your good fairy, Jack, from this moment henceforth,” responded the bird in a kindly tone. “Please don’t bother me with questions now, for I must be gone. Gruff is a wicked monster. He will set you to do what will seem impossible; but accept the task boldly and with cheerfulness. I will be near to help you. Now go to sleep. Good-night.”
Cocky slept soundly. In the early morning he was awakened by a loud roaring; opening his eyes, he saw standing over him a huge fellow of colossal proportions, who commanded him to arise in a voice like the rumbling noise of an express train.
“I am King Red Gum,” said the monster, at the same time twirling a sapling round and round in his hand for pastime. “In yonder paddock you will find a young colt who has never been touched [348]by the hand of man. Catch him and bring him here before I have eaten my breakfast, or I will string thee up by the heels and roast thee like a rabbit. Dost hear?”
Cocky laughed and bounded away on his errand. He found the colt, but soon discovered that it was quite impossible to approach the vicious brute without being eaten or kicked to death. He had serious thoughts of running away, when the magpie alighted near him, to whom he communicated his trouble.
“Shout Stra fonatsa as loudly as you can,” said the bird.
“Stra fonatsa! Come here!” The wild horse pricked his ears and immediately came over to where our hero stood. He was as gentle as a lamb and suffered Cocky to lead him by the mane to where King Red Gum was waiting with his bludgeon.
“Ho! Ho! thou insignificant mortal,” he cried, “so thou hast brought Stra fonatsa. It is well. Now I must be off for my morning gallop. Gruff! Gruff! thou lazy skunk, where art thou?”
“Here am I, master,” answered the old man, appearing at the door of his hut.
“Give this ant his breakfast so that he may be ready to do my bidding when I return;” and [349]King Red Gum mounted his steed and rode away. Once more the old man of the hut invited Cocky to a well-furnished table, then retired within his domicile and shut the door. In the midst of his breakfast our hero was joined by the magpie, whom he welcomed cordially. He placed the choicest tit-bits before it.
“I am glad you have a kind heart, Jack, and that you are grateful for my help,” said the bird, after the meal was over. “Learn, boy, I am not what I seem. None of us are, mortals or fairies.”
“Who are you, please?” said Cocky coaxingly.
“I am an elfin, Jack; just that. In this country every one of us has been made the guardian or custodian of some one who has been wronged. I am the guardian of a beautiful young lady who has been stolen from her home and shut up in a spacious mansion underground. I have been awaiting your coming a long time, Cocky Cochrane, for you and you only can release my darling Brown Eyes from the thraldom of King Red Gum and his henchman, Old Gruff.”
“Why did they shut up little Brown Eyes underground? What has she done?” said Cocky.
“That ugly wretch, King Red Gum, wanted Brown Eyes to marry him, and she would not. [350]So he turned the poor dear into a blue wren and placed her in a cage below the earth,” answered the magpie in a trembling voice. “Now, Jack, we all need help from one another. If you’ll help me, I’ll stand by you.”
“Agreed,” cried the young fellow resolutely. “You have done me good service already; therefore whatever you order I am ready to obey.”
“Thank you, Jack. Good-bye for the present. I can hear King Red Gum returning from his gallop.”
Our friend Cocky was not given very much time to digest his breakfast. Dismounting from his steed the giant beckoned him forward, and thus addressed him: “You lazy imp! It would suit you very well to do nothing but eat my victuals and take a sleep afterwards, but you shall work. Listen! On the other side of yon mountain there is a wide lagoon fringed with reeds and rushes. There lives the Australian wonder, a Bunyip. You must find him and ask of him three questions—the answers to which you must bring to me before sundown, otherwise your miserable life shall answer for it.” [351]
“Oh, that’s quite easy,” replied Cocky, with a dash of his city assurance. “I thought you were going to set me something very difficult. What are the three questions?”
“Why the leaves on the trees grow edgeways to the sun?” said the giant. “Next: What is the reason there is no water in Phantom Hollow? And last but not least: Why figs do not grow on the tree by the hut? Now begone! and bring me the answers before sundown,” cried the Red Giant in a towering rage.
Our hero departed with a great show of bravado, but when he came near the lagoon his assumed swagger quickly evaporated. He had heard there was such a creature as a Bunyip, but he had never met anybody who had seen one. “Never despair,” however, was Cocky’s motto. He would try and find it, for the sake of Brown Eyes. He wandered about and searched in every likely place amongst the rushes, and waded in the water calling for the Bunyip. But there was no response to his call, and the sun began dipping westward.
Hereupon the magpie came upon the scene. “Hello, Jack! Looking for the Bunyip?” he cried.
“I can’t find him. I don’t believe there is such an animal,” cried Cocky. [352]
“Oh yes, there is; but he’s neither animal nor fish, Jack—yet a mixture of both. All you have to do is to cut a reed like a whistle, slit it down the middle, then blow upon it twice.”
“ITS EYES WERE DREADFUL TO BEHOLD, AS IT CAME SLOWLY OUT OF THE WATER.”
Cocky obeyed the directions of the bird, and immediately there came forth from the middle of the lake a huge monster, with a head shaped like that of a calf, and a body as large and unwieldy as a young hippopotamus. Its eyes were dreadful to behold, as it came slowly out of the water and crouched abjectly at the feet of our hero. [353]
“What want you with me?” it cried presently.
“Tell me why the leaves of the gum-trees grow edgeways to the sun,” said Cocky.
“Because it is the nature of the tree to grow its leaves edgewise, thou fool,” replied the monster.
“What is the reason there is no water in Phantom Hollow?”
The Bunyip chuckled. “Because the sun has dried it up,” he cried contemptuously. “What more?”
“Why do figs not grow upon the tree by the hut in King Red Gum’s dell?”
“Because King Red Gum is an ass, who cannot discern a wild pine from a fig-tree. Now depart, or I shall drag thee down into the depths of the lagoon.”
“Ask for a hair from his tail,” whispered the magpie quickly.
“Please give me a hair from your tail,” said Cocky; and ere the monster could grant or refuse the request our hero, by a sudden dexterous movement, had possessed himself of the coveted prize and was speeding away up the mountain-side like a deer, with the clever magpie flying low at his side.
“Now, Jack,” cried the bird, “we must not part again until we have accomplished the release of [354]my lady-bird Brown Eyes. Hold fast to that hair of the Bunyip’s tail, for it will prove one of the most powerful weapons in the art of magic. It is a talisman to swear by, and none can resist it, as you will presently discover.”
Then the magpie added a short whisper into Cocky’s ear, and they descended into the dell, where the giant and Old Gruff stood awaiting our hero.
“Tiny mortal, hast thou done thy task? What are the answers?” roared Red Gum menacingly.
“By the hair of the Bunyip’s tail, I command thy obedience,” cried our hero sternly.
Red Gum let fall his huge waddy from his hand. With a loud cry he sank down at our hero’s feet cringingly at the potent words. “Thou art the master! I am thy slave!” he cried in a submissive tone. “What wilt thou, mortal?”
“I have conquered, by jingo! henceforth thou shalt be a dingo.”
Cocky had barely uttered the charm ere the huge bulk of the giant faded beneath his eyes and assumed the form of a wild bush dog. At the same moment the old man of the hut rushed to the assistance of his fallen chief; but our hero held the key, or rather the hair, of the position, and bade him stand. [355]
“Dog shalt thou be for thy folly. I will change thee to a collie!” cried Cocky.
Immediately the fated words passed the youth’s lips the old fellow was transformed into a big sheep dog, who, seeing the dingo at hand, sprang upon him at once, and while a battle royal raged between the two our hero mounted Stra fonatsa, and galloped away in company with the magpie, much farther than I could tell you in this little story.
When it was near sundown they came to a great cave, situated on a very high hill, and the magpie without more ado led our hero downward by a series of stairs cut in the solid rock, through arches and corridors, onward to an open vista of glorious country, glowing and shimmering beneath a strange but powerful light, which revealed the most minute object within their vision.
In the distance appeared a fine mansion, with a high tower in the centre of it; and when they came to the gate, they found a regiment of dwarfs on guard, who as soon as they saw the hair from the Bunyip’s tail fell down on their faces before our hero and besought him to enter.
The magnificence displayed within the building was something to be remembered. Here were arches of polished marble, priceless statues, [356]tables and couches of antique workmanship, with rich carpets woven in no mortal loom, and where everything was gleaming with velvet and thick silks and pure gold.
Wandering on in this wonderful place the magpie led Jack Cochrane to a small apartment overlooking a lovely prospect of forest scenery, dotted with lakes, glinting under the soft light. In one corner of this room was hung a golden cage containing a wee wren. This bird became very lively when it saw the magpie, and the latter was no less agitated on seeing the little wren.
“Give me the hair of the Bunyip,” cried the magpie in an altered tone that Cocky hardly recognised. However, he obeyed. In an instant the room was plunged in profound darkness, while at the same moment came a musical voice, who in a loud tone cried, “Come forth, Brown Eyes! come forth from thy thraldom! Night hath fled. Behold the day!”
Then more swift and sudden than a lightning flash Cocky, the city waif, who had but winked his eyes in the darkness, opened them upon broad daylight, with the sun streaming into a magnificent apartment and upon a beautiful young lady with wonderful brown eyes, and also upon a tall, handsome young man by her side. [357]
“Am I dreaming?” said poor Cocky, rubbing his eyes and staring at his companions.
“Not a bit of it, Jack Cochrane,” said the handsome youth, smiling down upon Brown Eyes beside him. “I am your friend still, but a magpie no longer. The scene has changed, boy, thanks to your courage and steadfastness. The wren and the magpie are Sir Plum Dough and his affianced bride, Brown Eyes Wattle Blossom. This is our domain. It is called The Gloaming. Stay here with us and be our henchman.”
Ring down the Curtain.