by Bindi Irwin
Wangchuk shook his head. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘They were strangers.’ For the first time since she’d met him, he frowned.
‘So everyone doesn’t know everyone after all?’ Bindi observed dryly.
‘It would seem so,’ was all Wangchuk would say. But as they made their way to the bottom of the old stone steps, Bindi could see he was still frowning.
By the time they’d reached the top of the stone steps the snow-covered mountains on the far horizon were sparkling in the sun’s rays.
Chandra led them to the huge rhododendron where they had left the trail the day before. Then they struck off into the forest.
When they reached the big old log where Bindi had spotted the panda poo the previous day, she stopped and peered into the bushes. But this time there was nothing to be seen.
‘That’s strange,’ she said. ‘It’s not there anymore.’ She examined the spot where she had made that first find. ‘Hey guys, look at this!’
The others gathered around.
‘Someone has shovelled it all up. Look!’
Bindi was right. The ground had been disturbed in a way that suggested someone had used a spade there.
After that everyone searched the area, looking for the droppings they’d found the day before. All of them had vanished.
Finally, Chandra slumped down onto a rock. ‘How very strange!’
Bindi sat next to him, thinking hard. ‘I think it was those guys we passed on the trail,’ she said. ‘The ones carrying bamboo buckets.’
‘You might be right,’ Chandra replied. ‘Whoever it was, it appears they’ve been up here trying to remove evidence of all of the pandas.’
‘Some of the pandas.’ Wangchuk’s smile had returned.
Bindi, Vicki and Chandra all looked at the boy at once. ‘Do you know where there might be more?’ Bindi asked.
‘Follow me,’ was all Wangchuk said before heading off even deeper into the forest.
He moved like lightning, and seemed to know every stone and every tree. Even Chandra had trouble keeping up.
At last he stopped above a long rock ledge. ‘Now, we wait.’
Hidden by the ledge, they had a surprisingly good view. Bindi could see bamboo thickets everywhere, and the forest cover here was particularly dense.
Everyone was quiet. But it wasn’t long before Wangchuk was tugging on Bindi’s sleeve. Bindi peered in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a beautiful russet-backed red panda stretched out in a tree, its legs and tail dangling.
‘That’s Jangmu,’ Wangchuk whispered. He scoured the trees for a little while longer. ‘And there’s Ang. He’s Jangmu’s son.’ He pointed out another red panda, which ambled out from the under- growth to nibble on some new bamboo shoots.
Vicki and Chandra quickly pulled out their cameras and began to take photos.
‘Did you name the pandas?’ Bindi whispered to her friend.
Wangchuk nodded, his eyes glued to the trees up ahead.
Bindi was helping Vicki take a GPS reading of their location when Wangchuk tugged on her sleeve once more.
Again she looked where he was pointing. A young red panda high in a tree was scrabbling along a branch with amazing courage. Nothing seemed to deter her. As the branch tapered she became like a tightrope walker, teetering along, one step after the other. Finally, she reached her goal – a large clump of berries, which she pulled into her mouth with her paw.
Vicki and Chandra began to take photos.
‘Who’s that?’ Bindi whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Wangchuk hissed back. ‘She’s a new one.’
The panda stopped what she was doing and looked up. Bindi felt sure the animal had spotted them. But the panda didn’t try to get away. In fact, she seemed unfrightened. After a moment, she went back to her meal.
Wangchuk was silent for a moment before turning to Bindi, laughter in his eyes. ‘I have the perfect name for her!’ he whispered.
‘What? What have you named her?’ Bindi whispered so loudly the little red panda stopped again and, showing no fear, looked up inquisitively.
Wangchuk giggled. ‘Her name is Little Bindi!’
‘Tomorrow we should all go to talk to the committee. And while we’re there we should ask them if they know anything about the panda poo thieves.’
Bindi was sitting with her friends on the teahouse verandah. They’d just finished lunch and were discussing what to do next.
‘No one on the committee speaks English,’ Chandra said, ‘and children never attend the meetings. Do they, Finju?’
Finju shook his head. He stood and cleared away the plates before disappearing inside.
‘Perhaps Vicki should come, to add her perspective to our cause. But –’ Chandra paused to look Bindi in the eye, ‘I think you should stay here with Finju and Wangchuk.’
Vicki nodded in agreement. ‘Chandra’s right, Bindi. They have different customs here, and as they don’t speak English, you wouldn’t be able to talk them round in your usual convincing fashion.’ She reached across to tousle Bindi’s hair.
‘All right, I guess.’ Bindi took a deep breath. ‘But I’d like to find out who’s behind those panda poo thieves.’ She thought of the beautiful young red panda they’d spotted that morning and felt a rising anger about everything that had happened. Red pandas were a critically endangered species. People needed to do everything they could to protect them, not play tricks and try to get out of taking any responsibility.
‘Hopefully we can get to the bottom of it at the meeting tomorrow,’ Vicki said.
Chandra smiled at the kids. ‘So we need to sort out the photos and write up our notes for the presentation. Would you two like to give us a hand?’
‘I have to drop off a package to Aunty Maya, then go and feed Tom,’ Wangchuk said quickly.
Bindi felt a kick under the table.
‘Do you want to come, Bindi?’
Usually Bindi would have loved to help write up the field notes. But she couldn’t wait until tomorrow to sort things out. She needed to do something immediately. And judging by the way Wangchuk was looking at her, he had an idea.
‘Sure,’ she said.
Wangchuk leapt up and disappeared inside with his ball under his arm.
A minute or two later he returned, clutching a package. ‘Ready?’ he said.
They set off down the road.
‘What’s in the package?’ Bindi asked.
‘Tea, I think.’
Bindi glanced down and noticed for the first time that the package had been rather carelessly wrapped in an old tea towel and tied up with fraying grey string. What’s more, it was vaguely spherical and about the size of Wangchuk’s ball.
‘Tea, you said?’ Bindi raised an eyebrow.
Wangchuk just nodded.
Bindi took a sidelong glance at her new accomplice. ‘So you’re not worried about losing your job anymore?’
Wangchuk shook his head. ‘I’m more worried about the pandas now. They’re my friends. I want to help them.’ He glanced across at Bindi and flashed her a smile.
‘We’ll help them together.’ Bindi threw her arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘But where are we going?’ she asked. ‘Where does your Aunty Maya live? Can she tell us what’s going on?’
The boy looked at Bindi out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.
‘Where does she live?’ Bindi asked again, poking him in the side.
Wangchuk didn’t look around. ‘Next door to Mr Ming-Ma.’
Aunty Maya was out in her herb garden, digging. Still clutching his parcel, Wangchuk called out hello and strolled over. Bindi followed.
‘Namaste,’ the woman said, looking up. Like Wangchuk, she had a straight black fringe and laughing eye
s.
Bindi waited while Wangchuk and his aunty talked. Neither of them even looked at the parcel, Bindi noticed, and she guessed it hadn’t been mentioned.
Eventually, Wangchuk turned to Bindi. ‘Aunty thinks Mr Ming-Ma would do anything to stop the sanctuary going ahead. But she also says the other villagers don’t really trust him. If they found out he’d lied, they’d be very angry.’
‘Well, that’s good to know,’ Bindi said.
Wangchuk resumed chatting with Aunty Maya.
Biding her time, Bindi looked around. Aunty Maya was kneeling by a couple of bamboo buckets, an old trowel still in her hand. Bindi glanced into the buckets.
Her breath caught in shock. ‘Wangchuk! Look!’
Wangchuk stopped talking and stared where Bindi was pointing. He took a step back in surprise. ‘Panda poo!’ He turned and spoke urgently with his aunty.
‘Well?’ Bindi was flabbergasted. Could the whole village be in on this? What was going on?
‘She says two passing strangers offered her the poo to put on her garden. She says they were keen to get rid of it, which suited her. She didn’t know it was panda poo.’ Wangchuk looked shocked. ‘She also says she agrees with Chandra – the red pandas need a safe place to live.’
Bindi was relieved. Chandra was right. Aunty Maya was on their side. ‘Ask her if she saw where they went.’
Wangchuk said a few more words in Sherpa. His aunty responded, a questioning look on her face.
‘What did she say?’ Bindi suspected she already knew the answer.
‘Mr Ming-Ma’s house. That’s where they went. Mr Ming-Ma’s.’
Bindi and Wangchuk jumped up and peered over the top of the stone wall that ran behind Mr Ming-Ma’s. No one was around, but they could hear voices coming from inside the big house.
Bindi felt a rush of determination. She was certain Mr Ming-Ma had something to do with the disappearing panda poo. Now they just had to find out what, so they could alert Vicki, Chandra and the villagers.
She glanced over at Wangchuk. ‘Bring your parcel. We might need it.’
Pulling themselves up, they clambered to the top of the wall then jumped down the other side. As soon as they hit the deck they dashed across the open ground and hid behind a bush not far from the house’s back door.
Bindi peered through the leaves. Just metres away, two dogs were lying asleep on the doorstep. One was tan and black with lanky legs. The other, huge with thick dark fur, was a Tibetan mastiff, an ancient breed that made good guard dogs – and good hunters as well.
‘I’ll take care of the dogs,’ Bindi whispered, tugging the parcel from Wangchuk’s hands, ‘if you can find out what they’re talking about in there.’
Wangchuk just nodded.
Bindi pulled the wrapping from Wangchuk’s parcel. Inside was his blue ball. She gave a little whistle. The dogs woke immediately and looked around. The mastiff gave one loud bark.
Someone from inside yelled, probably to tell the dog to be quiet.
Bindi whistled softly again. ‘Here, boy,’ she called as quietly as she could. She popped her head around the bush. Both dogs leapt to their feet. Bindi put her hand to her lips, then motioned for them to come. Tails wagging, the dogs rushed over.
‘Look at that! They like you!’ Wangchuk said, shaking his head in amazement before scuttling across to the window. He crouched down to listen.
Bindi bounced the ball as quietly as she could. ‘Come on, guys,’ she said softly, ‘let’s play ball.’ She ran to the side of the house where she would be out of sight of passersby and the house occupants. The dogs followed, still wagging their tails. Bindi threw the ball. The lanky dog ran after it and brought it back. Bindi began the game again.
At last Wangchuk appeared. The dogs ignored him. They were too busy chasing the ball.
‘Well?’ Bindi whispered.
‘There were three men talking. One of them was Mr Ming-Ma. They were making plans and talking. Mr Ming-Ma was telling the other two to go back to the forest.’
‘To get more panda poo?’
‘Worse. He wants them to take the dogs. They’re going to hunt down the pandas.’
‘When? Tomorrow?’ Bindi could hardly believe what she was hearing.
Wangchuk shook his head. ‘No. Not tomorrow. Now.’
There was no time to lose. They had to do something, and fast.
An idea popped into Bindi’s head, but could she pull it off? She surveyed the stone wall they’d scaled to get into Mr Ming-Ma’s yard. It was higher than she was tall. Getting the dogs over it would be impossible. She scanned the yard. It was surrounded by stone walls – all high.
Then she spotted it. A gate in the far wall. She pointed.
Wangchuk seemed to understand what she was thinking. ‘Maybe it’s unlocked,’ he said.
‘Come on, boys,’ Bindi said to the dogs. ‘Let’s go for a run.’ She picked up the ball and dashed past the house towards the gate. Wangchuk and the dogs followed.
The gate was closed but not locked. Bindi wrestled with the bolt. Finally, it slid across.
She pushed the gate open and they all went through together.
Behind the back stone wall they ran and, skirting the forest, headed in the direction of the teahouse.
Every now and then Bindi threw the ball. The dogs raced after it and pushed it back, loving the game.
Not far from the teahouse they stopped and hid in the bushes to decide what to do next. Bindi held onto the fur of the big mastiff. He sat down, panting. His friend collapsed beside him, his tongue lolling.
Bindi and Wangchuk looked across to the teahouse. They were out of sight of the verandah, and could see no one.
‘We’ve got to hide the dogs,’ Bindi said. ‘Any ideas?’
‘We can hide them in the wood store.’
‘What if your dad finds them?’
‘He won’t go down there till after breakfast tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’ Bindi whispered. ‘Lead the way!’
Bindi and the dogs followed Wangchuk across to the teahouse. Wangchuk led them into a small storeroom. A wood pile took up half the room, but there was enough space for the dogs to stretch their legs and lie down.
Wangchuk disappeared and returned with a large bowl of water and an old blanket.
‘You boys stay in here until we come back. We won’t be long,’ Bindi said, tossing the ball in through the door before quietly pulling it shut.
‘That should slow down those men,’ Wangchuk said as they made their way back onto the road.
Bindi grimaced. ‘I hope so.’ Unfortunately, she was certain they’d need more than hope if they were going to really protect the red pandas.
‘I better go and feed Tom,’ Wangchuk said. ‘Otherwise he’ll get angry.’
‘Okay. I’ll find Chandra and Vicki and tell them what’s happened,’ Bindi replied. ‘We’re going to need their help.’
Bindi ran back the way they’d come, skirting the forest behind the houses so she wouldn’t be seen. Everything was now bathed in shadow. Soon the sun would sink behind the mountain and the warmth of the day would give way to the night chill.
After Bindi had told Vicki and Chandra everything that had happened, they’d set off up the road with Finju to speak to Aunty Maya about Mr Ming-Ma.
But she was still worried. What if Ming-Ma made the two strangers go out to hunt the pandas, dogs or not?
When she reached Mr Ming-Ma’s back wall, she jumped up and peeped over it once more.
The two strangers were in the yard, calling for the dogs. When the animals didn’t come, the men disappeared inside the house.
Bindi watched. The light was starting to fade, but she could see the house clearly.
The two men re-emerged, heavy bags in thei
r hands.
Then a third man appeared in the doorway. He was large, and his clean white shirt and bright white runners were plainly visible in the growing gloom.
This must be Mr Ming-Ma!
Bindi squinted. The man was holding something long in his hand. He passed the object to one of the men, who pushed it into his bag, where it stuck out like an antenna.
Bindi strained her eyes to see. What was it? Could it be?
Back along the forest edge she ran, faster than she’d ever run before. She had to find Wangchuk and do something – anything – to stop these men hurting the red pandas.
From the safety of the other side of the wall, Wangchuk watched Tom snort and paw the ground. Tom’s dinner was still piled at the boy’s feet. Hungry, the bull was getting very angry indeed.
Wangchuk looked up when he heard Bindi approach. ‘How did you go?’ he called.
Bindi dashed across and pulled him down so they would be out of sight of the road.
‘What did you see?’ Wangchuk whispered.
‘Those men. They’re coming. I think they’re going out into the forest. And I think they might have a gun!’
Bindi popped her head up. The men were only a short distance away. Soon they’d be passing the yard. After that they’d be on the forest trail to find the pandas.
‘What are we going to do?’ Bindi looked at her friend.
Wangchuk stared back at her. ‘Poor Tom still hasn’t had his dinner,’ was all he said.
Bindi clicked her fingers. ‘You’re a genius!’
‘Let’s do it!’
They scuttled along the wall until they reached the old wooden gate. Wangchuk climbed up and wrestled with the latch. Seconds later the gate swung open, and they leapt behind it to be well out of the way of the bull.
Wangchuk whistled loudly.
Raising his head, Tom glared in their direction. He pawed the ground with his hoof, snorting and tossing his head before trotting over. Spying the open gate, he picked up speed and cantered through.