Whispering in the Wind

by Alan Marshall

  The Bunyip sat beneath the tree and unwrapped his lunch.

  ‘Have you got any pepper and salt?’ he asked Greyfur. ‘The castle cook is very careless. I can’t stand fried frogs without pepper and salt.’

  Greyfur took two shakers from her pouch and handed them to him. ‘A handy pocket you have there,’ said the Bunyip, and then went on. ‘It’s no use my offering you any lunch because I’ll be killing you both in about an hour. If you have any lunch with you, save it for me. I’ll use it for afternoon tea about three o’clock. Now, to pass the time during lunch hour, I’ll tell you the story of my life.’

  11

  The Bunyip’s Story

  ‘You are wondering why I don’t breathe smoke and fire,’ began the Bunyip after swallowing a mouthful of frogs’ legs. ‘Because I don’t like it, that’s why.’

  ‘You see, it’s like this. I was born in a swamp—all Bunyips are born in swamps. My father and mother were just ordinary Bunyips, no special gifts. Dad used to roar at nights and frighten the hell out of people. The rest of the time he’d fish and seize animals coming down to drink. We lived well. But Dad used to worry about not being important. The other Bunyips lived in fine caves with wall-to-wall swamp grass on the floor. We lived in a den where the floor was always muddy. Mum and Dad thought that the only way to make them important was for me to get a job guarding a Beautiful Princess. It is a responsible position and Dad would be able to boast about it.

  ‘So he sent me to a Dragon School where boy dragons are taught how to guard Beautiful Princesses. The Headmaster was an old Knight called St George. Have you ever heard of him? He had a terrific fight with a Dragon once. He says he killed it. I don’t know. You couldn’t believe a word he said after he said, “Hullo”.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Peter. ‘He did kill a Dragon. The story is called “St George and the Dragon”. He was a wonderful man.’

  ‘So he says,’ said the Bunyip scornfully.

  Peter decided not to argue with him. Not that he was afraid of the Bunyip. He was holding the Magic Leaf in his hand and he feared no one. But he didn’t like arguing.

  ‘All the tutors were Knights who had once fought dragons,’ the Bunyip continued. ‘Their job was to teach us how to fight Knights so that the Beautiful Princesses could never be rescued.

  ‘It was a terrible school. Up at dawn and the tutors would line us up and march us in to breakfast. We ate molten lava and glowing coals. This was supposed to be the right food for boy dragons who had to be taught to breathe fire and smoke and flame on their enemies. But it gave me indigestion.

  ‘After breakfast we had to stand out in the field while the Knights all lined up on their horses. They were clad in their best armour. It glittered in the sun and made you blink. Their horses would whinny and toss their heads and stamp their feet. The Knights would fix their long lances and charge down on us shouting, “Tally-ho, Tally-ho!” “On Guard, Sir!” “At You, Varlet!” “Put ’em up!” And things like that. I tell you, we had the wind up. We breathed out fire and flame, and a terrible lot of smoke. But we were still kids and could only shoot flame about ten feet. If some of the pupils had had a good breakfast they might go twelve feet, but six feet was my limit.

  ‘The only way to avoid those horses was to dodge. Boy! Did we dodge! We tangled up with the horses’ legs and lashed at them with our tails and we roared and snapped and showed our teeth and turned somersaults to miss the lances.

  ‘I was handicapped by being covered with fur. The dragon kids were covered in scales and the lances skidded off them. Sometimes they could snap a lance in half when they got their teeth into it. It was harder for me. They knocked fur off me in hunks and gouged grooves in my ribs with their lance points. I used to roar like a bull with its head under water—the Bunyip war cry—but it made no impression on those fellows who were trained dragon killers.

  ‘If you broke their lances, they hopped into you with the flat of their swords. The fire we shot at them just bounced off their armour. They never stayed still long enough for us to heat up the iron and bake them in their suits. In the end, of course, they drove us off the field.

  ‘They used to boil the billy, then, and drink pannikins of tea while they told each other lies about the number of dragons they had killed before they became tutors. They sat on the grass and skited while we had to listen from the other side of the fence.

  ‘I was furious. One night, after I’d been listening to the moaning and sighs of the boy dragons in the dormitory where we slept, I got an idea. Next morning, when we were gathered on the field, I raced down to the lake in front of the college and drank so deeply that the lake fell two feet. You know those gurgles you get in your stomach sometimes, well I was full of them. It was the coals of lava sizzling as the water put out the fire inside me. I didn’t say anything, but came back and lined up with the other boy dragons and when the Knights charged I sent out such a stream of water from each nostril that it tumbled them off their horses in a heap. You see, I could keep up a continuous stream and I guided it right down upon those charging Knights. They thought a dam had burst. They yelled and cursed and tried to climb back on their horses, but the water hit them on the legs and they would fall over again, and the lances got all mixed up.

  ‘The boy dragons cheered, and they all wanted to learn how to squirt water instead of flames but I couldn’t teach them that. Dragons’ stomachs are lined with iron to contain the fires that burn within them. If they drink water they rust and get stomach ulcers. A dragon who has stomach ulcers through drinking water is a pathetic sight.

  ‘Anyway, one of the Knights dashed into the school and brought out St George. This was a riot. The students were challenging the establishment. If the dragons changed their stomachs and took to fighting with water instead of fire and smoke, St George would be out of a job, so he put on a new helm that would shut out anything when he closed the visor. He couldn’t hear a thing. He put on a brand new cuirass complete with a lance-rest for steadying the butt of his lance, and he mounted a charger so protected with armour that it found difficulty in prancing.

  ‘He lowered his visor and yelled out, “Go back to your rooms and breathe in smoke for two hours.”

  ‘No one moved.

  ‘I still had a thousand gallons of water stored in me and I didn’t say anything. I was waiting for him to charge but he wasn’t in a hurry. He asked us again to go back to our rooms and breathe smoke. The dragon boys all gathered around me. They were afraid, and one little fellow said to me, “I haven’t a spark left in me. I couldn’t scorch him. He’ll kill some of us as a lesson to the others. Are you sure you can stop him?”

  ‘“You watch me,” I said.

  ‘Then St George charged. His huge horse was slow in gaining speed. Under his spurs its iron-shod hooves thundered into a gallop. St George was leaning forward in the saddle. His stirrup leathers were long and his legs were straight. He stood up in the stirrups and brought his long lance slowly down till it pointed straight at me with its butt held firmly in the lance-rest. All the Knights cheered him as he charged. “St George, the Killer of Dragons, here he comes!”

  ‘When he was about fifty yards away I tried myself out for distance. I hit him on the greaves with a jet of water from each nostril. Then I raised my head a little and sent a series of jets that got him on the cuirass, the tasset, the vambrace, the pauldron and the beaver. That shook him. Finally I let him have a full charge of a hundred and fifty gallons on the breastplate. Boy! He went back over the tail of that horse with his legs stretched wide and his hands grabbing at water, then fell to the ground with a clang and a clatter that sounded as if I’d tipped a cartload of billies over. The horse came on, but I sent him back on his haunches with a right-nostril squirt to the chest. He bolted after that.

  ‘You should have seen George. He got up in sections like a two-foot rule and shook his mailed fist. “You’re expelled,” he cried. He would have liked to charge me on foot but he wasn’t game.

&
nbsp; ‘“Get off the property!” he kept yelling.

  ‘So I got. I made for the nearest fence where it followed the highway. But I kept thinking about Mum and Dad. Parents who want to feel important because of their children’s successes take it very badly if one of them is expelled. You must never let them down, that’s the trouble. It’s never out of one’s mind. I began to worry and I felt crook.’

  Indeed, the Bunyip began to look very worried at the memory.

  ‘It’s all over now,’ said Peter. ‘Greyfur and I are going to boil the billy. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Would I what?’ said the Bunyip.

  12

  Greyfur’s Fight with the Bunyip

  After they had boiled the billy, the Bunyip continued his story.

  ‘On that day the King happened to be out hunting. His entourage caught me up as I was walking along the road. They were a mob of courtiers and they bowed and scraped a lot. They were well dressed, too: long velvet coats and tight pants.

  ‘They rode magnificent horses, but the King’s was the best. It was a black stallion and it never stopped prancing. It pranced in circles when he reined it in.

  ‘“Hey, boy!” he called out when the prancing horse was facing me. “What breed are you?”

  ‘Then the horse went round again and I had to wait before I could answer.

  ‘“I’m a Bunyip, Your Majesty.”

  ‘“Never heard of them.”

  ‘The horse kept prancing and taking him round in circles so I had to wait again till he faced me.

  ‘“We live in the swamp near the palace.”

  ‘“Good heavens!” the King exclaimed. “I’ll have to have that place disinfected.”

  ‘Then, round he went again. He must have been sick of it because he suddenly shouted at one of the courtiers, “Stop this darn horse.”

  ‘The man he shouted at leapt off his horse and grabbed the King’s bridle. You could see he was frightened, and for good reasons, since the King leant forward and lashed him with his whip.

  ‘“How dare you give the King a horse like this,” he snapped.

  ‘“But you wanted a horse that could prance,” stammered the courtier.

  ‘“Prance, yes,” said the King, “but I didn’t ask for the Circular Waltz.”

  ‘He dismounted and adjusted his crown, which had slipped to one side with all the prancing. “Now,” he said to me, “you say you are a Bunyip. I watched you fighting the Knights. I was leaning on the school fence and saw your unorthodox methods when St George’s gang of tutors were trying to belt you into shape. You certainly dis-horsed them with great skill.”

  ‘“Un-horsed them,” I corrected him.

  ‘The King glared at me. “An intellectual, eh!” he sneered. “We’ll soon knock that out of you.”

  ‘I didn’t like the King. Dad had heard about him and told me he was a good businessman. He thought that was all that mattered. Yet he was the father of a Beautiful Princess and I couldn’t understand this. Everyone knew about the Beautiful Princess he kept imprisoned in the tower.

  ‘“Listen, boy,” said the King. “Would you like a job? How much money would you want to work for me?”

  ‘“What would I be doing?” I asked.

  ‘“I have a daughter and she is a Beautiful Princess,” said the King. “I want her well guarded from Knights and Princes of other lands who come to ask for her hand in marriage. She is too young for that sort of thing, and naturally I want all her suitors destroyed with skill and efficiency. With an extra load of water aboard I think you could despatch them quite well. All water will be supplied free, of course. Now,” he went on, “what is the lowest wage you would take?”

  ‘“Ten dollars a week and keep,” I told him.

  ‘I knew he was a good businessman and would cut me down, so I asked for more than I thought I’d get.

  ‘“Hum!” he said. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you five dollars a week and your keep.”

  ‘“Right,” I said. “I’ll take it.”

  ‘I spoke too quickly, because I could see he was immediately sorry he hadn’t offered me four. He was too good a businessman to throw money away unnecessarily.

  ‘“It is a very high wage,” he impressed upon me. “I hope you are not a big eater.”

  ‘“I’m a small eater,” I assured him.

  ‘I’m not such a bad businessman myself when it comes to the point. Anyway, I got the job and I’ve been here for years. It’s an interesting story, isn’t it?’ he added.

  ‘It is that,’ said Greyfur. ‘Now, would you like to hear the story of my life?’

  ‘I would not,’ said the Bunyip rising to his feet. ‘I’m too busy. After I’ve killed you two, I have to arrange for the grave-diggers to bury you, so let’s waste no time.’

  He looked Greyfur and Peter up and down, then glanced at Moonlight cropping the grass nearby.

  ‘I’ll keep the pony,’ he said. ‘It will do for the Beautiful Princess to ride when I accompany her on her daily gallop round the castle. Now would you rather be killed singly or together? It would be much more spectacular if you were both to charge me from about a hundred yards out. I’ll supply you with a lance,’ he said to Peter. ‘Be careful of it. It was owned by a famous Knight who died with great dignity. He had managed to get out of his armour before the end and I drowned him in his underpants. Poor chap. It put me off my lunch.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Greyfur. ‘Have a go at me first. I’ll charge you just as I am. I don’t need a lance or a fine horse. I’ll have a go at you just for the fun of it.’

  Peter was astounded at the offer. ‘You’ll get drowned!’ he exclaimed. ‘Don’t do it.’ He ran over and whispered fiercely in Greyfur’s ear, ‘I’m going to give him the Magic Leaf in a minute. Just wait till I get on to the subject of gifts. We’re not in any danger yet.’

  ‘I want to teach him a lesson,’ Greyfur whispered back. ‘He’s a skite. I watched him bowl over those cows. I’ll easily dodge his jets of water. You just watch.’

  She hopped over to the Bunyip. ‘Where do you want me to stand?’

  ‘Stand on the track near that big tree there, then come at me fast.’

  ‘Good,’ said Greyfur. She hopped along the track till she came to the big tree, and here she paused while she closed her pouch tightly so that no water could get into it. She called out to the Bunyip who was busy taking big breaths, ‘I’m ready! Yell out “Charge” whenever you like.’

  ‘Right!’ sang out the Bunyip. ‘Charge!’ And he threw a stream of water out of his right nostril that was at least a foot thick. It was aimed to hit the kangaroo on the chest but she leapt so swiftly to one side that it missed her. As the Bunyip turned his head to change the direction of the water Greyfur leapt over the stream. The Bunyip swung his head again and Greyfur dodged under the water. With each jump she got closer to the gurgling Bunyip. She was dodging and jumping and leaping sideways so swiftly that the Bunyip turned on the other nostril and sent two streams of water at her. Greyfur leaped between them, then out again, then over and under and up between the two of them.

  The Bunyip couldn’t manage to hit her. He brought the two streams together so that they formed a mighty jet two foot thick which Greyfur had to avoid with violent leaps.

  Then the Bunyip ran out of breath. He had to stop squirting till he had drawn enough air into his lungs to send out more water. Greyfur took the opportunity to race at him flat out. She gave a last mighty leap and landed on the Bunyip’s back.

  The effect was startling. The Bunyip staggered, then threw back his head and roared with so loud a sound that the trees trembled and shed leaves in fear. A dislodged rock rolled down the hillside and the waters of the moat quivered to the frantic gust of wind.

  The Bunyip’s huge teeth clashed like swords as he snapped at imaginary assailants to the right and left of him. Then Greyfur slammed her sharp toes into his sides and the Bunyip’s roar ended in a loud ‘Ouch!’
r />   He lumbered on to the track and, though he was no bucker, did his best to dislodge Greyfur by ungainly leaps and swerves. But Greyfur’s toes were clamped to his sides and she imagined herself taking part in a steer ride at a rodeo. She raised one arm in the air and shouted, ‘Hup, hup, hup!’ which humiliated the Bunyip so much he almost turned inside out in his attempts to throw her. He twisted his head so that he was looking backwards and down on her and he took a deep breath with the intention of blasting her from his back. But she slid forward till she sat astride the monster’s neck where it joined his shoulders, grabbed his head and forced it back so that the water the Bunyip ejected passed over her and struck his own tail. The tail vibrated like a reed in a stream as the torrent of water enveloped it.

  The Bunyip staggered. He was now being attacked at the front and the rear. He roared loudly in desperation then took another deep breath, but Greyfur put a kink in his neck and shut off the water. He was gasping now. He sank to the ground and managed to whisper hoarsely, ‘I’m done.’

  Greyfur jumped off his back and stood with Peter waiting for him to recover.

  ‘I think you were far too rough,’ said Peter, who felt worried when he heard the Bunyip panting.

  ‘Well he was going to be rough on us,’ said Greyfur. ‘I wanted to teach him a lesson. Kangaroos can fight much better than people imagine. After all, he was going to kill us.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what he said he would do. You’ve robbed him of his pride. You’ve humiliated him. That was a terrible thing to do. I was going to give him the Magic Leaf, then he would have become good. Now look at him.’

  The Bunyip certainly looked depressed, but he recovered rapidly and began upbraiding Greyfur for her unsportsmanlike behaviour.

  ‘You should never have dodged like that when you charged me,’ he complained. ‘Knights are so full of breeding that they would charge straight at me shouting battle cries. As for jumping on my back, they would never think of anything so childish. It’s just not done—neither by Knights nor by Princes.’