by Paul Cooper
The Camel’s Hump of Doom
Pigs CAN fly!
Kweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
When the Alarm Squeal sounds it must be a job for Captain Peter Porker and the PIGS IN PLANES!
Paul Cooper is from Manchester.
He now lives in Cambridge with
his wife and two daughters.
Read these high-flying adventures
about the Pigs in Planes:
PIGS IN PLANES: THE CHICKEN EGG-SPLOSION
PIGS IN PLANES: THE SHARK BITES BACK
PIGS IN PLANES: THE BIG BAAD SHEEP
PIGS IN PLANES: THE MEGA MONKEY MYSTERY
PIGS IN PLANES: THE CAMEL’S HUMP OF DOOM
PIGS IN PLANES: THE BIG BEAR NIGHTMARE
The Camel’s Hump of Doom
PAUL COOPER
Illustrated by Trevor Dunton
PUFFIN
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
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First published 2011
Text copyright © Paul Cooper, 2011
Illustrations copyright © Trevor Dunton, 2011
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-14-196091-3
Contents
MEET THE CREW
Chapter 1: A Spot of Trouble
Chapter 2: Head in the Sand
Chapter 3: Mummies for Dummies
Chapter 4: HEADS in the Sand
Chapter 5: The Song of the Desert
Chapter 6: What’s in a Name?
Chapter 7: Seasick
Chapter 8: A Tomb with a View
Chapter 9: Return of the Mummies
Chapter 10: Wrapping Things Up
Chapter 11: Pharaoh Frenzy
Chapter 12: The Plan Unravels
Chapter 13: Hump Day
Chapter 14: Battle in the Sky
Chapter 15: The Oinks-Gruntingtons United
Chapter 16: Wind and Ice
Epilogue
Wordsearch
Answers
For Cleo and Cleo’s
MEET THE CREW
CHAPTER 1:
A Spot of Trouble
‘Ooh, it says here that I’m going to have a spot of trouble this week.’ Tammy frowned as she read out her horoscope from the newspaper. ‘Wonder what that’s all about. I must tell Lola – she’s the same star sign as me.’
The team was in the common room at the Pigs in Planes HQ. The mechanic had turned to her favourite page of The Daily Moon – Mystic Moggy’s horoscopes.
‘What star sign are you, Pete?’ she asked the captain.
Pete was lovingly styling his hair, but he tore his eyes from the mirror. ‘Leo.’
Tammy read out the Leo horoscope. ‘It says, You will get ahead this week.’
Pete didn’t seem surprised. ‘Cool!’ He went back to his gel.
Curly looked up from his comic. ‘What about me, Tammy?’ the trainee PiP asked eagerly.
‘Let’s see. Hmm … It says: You will meet a tall stranger. But be careful not to give him the hump.’
Curly was confused. ‘What does that mean? Give him the HUMP?’
From the other side of the room Brian ‘the Brain’ Trotter let out a heavy sigh. The medical officer let out lots of these whenever Tammy was reading the horoscopes aloud. He didn’t believe in astrology at all.
‘To have the hump with someone or something: to be annoyed or cross with them,’ he said, sounding exactly like the Hogsford English Dictionary. ‘To give someone the hump: to make them cross or annoyed; to irritate them.’ He glared at Tammy’s newspaper. ‘For example, you might “give someone the hump” by reading aloud mumbo-jumbo that has absolutely NO basis in science.’
Tammy rolled her eyes. ‘Typical Aries,’ she said. ‘They never believe in horoscopes.’
She took a chomp of doughnut. ‘I’m going to read your horoscope out anyway, Brian. It says, This week you will need to change your trousers unexpectedly.’
‘What nonsense!’ muttered Brian. As he said this, there was the sound of trottersteps clacking along the corridor outside. The door burst open and Lola Penn rushed in.
The radio operator was wearing a green wig and her funkiest rock-star clothes because that night she was going to a fancy-dress party. But something was wrong – she had both trotters clamped over her snout and a wild look in her eye.
‘What’s the matter, Lola?’ asked Tammy.
‘SPOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!’ roared Lola. ‘How can I go to a party with this on my nose?’ She lifted one trotter to reveal a small red spot in the middle of her snout, then added: ‘WAAAAAAAAAARRGGHHH!!’
Brian jerked back and the teacup in his trotter toppled and fell from its saucer.
‘See, Brian?’ Tammy chuckled. ‘Now you need to change your trousers because you’ve spilt tea on them! Your horoscope came true.’
A satisfied smile played on Brian’s face. ‘Actually, I spilt tea all down my shirt, and not on my trousers at all, thank you.’ Then he realized that there was still tea all over his nice clean shirt, and his smile wobbled a bit.
Meanwhile Curly pointed to Lola, who had elbowed Pete aside from the mirror so she could get a better look at the spot.
‘Brian’s horoscope might not have come true but Lola has got a spot of trouble,’ the trainee said.
‘WAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGHHH!’ agreed Lola.
While Lola got ready for her party, Wing Commander Peregrine Oinks-Gruntington had promised to stay by the radio. He was quite surprised when someone called.
‘Pigs in Planes rescue service,’ he said, picking up the microphone. ‘State your name, species and the nature of the problem.’
He was even more surprised to find that the voice on the other end of the line was one he knew. ‘Peregrine? Is that you?’
‘Howard?’ The wing commander had just started wearing a glass monocle in one eye; this popped out in surprise now.
Howard Oinks-Gruntington, the wing commander’s younger brother, was an archaeologist – he spent most of his time digging up old bones and bits of pottery.
‘What trouble have you gone and got yo
urself into this time?’ Peregrine asked.
‘I’m sort of a little bit … stuck in the middle of the desert,’ said Howard. ‘My jeep won’t go. I was wondering if someone could pick me up?’
‘We’re an emergency rescue agency,’ grumbled Peregrine, ‘not a minicab service.’
‘It IS a bit of an emergency, actually, Peregrine,’ said his brother. ‘There’s no food and no water, and I think there’s a sandstorm coming.’
It was the PiPs’ policy never to pass judgement on a caller, but Peregrine couldn’t stop himself. ‘That was a bit twitty, wasn’t it?’ he said to the pig he would forever think of as his annoying little brother.
He expected Howard to say something rude back – that was how the two of them usually communicated – but all he heard on the radio was a strange THUD, then a noise like something heavy falling to the ground. It sounded a bit like someone dropping a bowling ball on to a bag of flour, then throwing a sack of spuds off a truck. Or maybe like a pig being hit on the head and then falling to the ground.
‘Howard?’ he said. ‘Are you still there? Have you forgotten how to operate a radio now?’
All Peregrine could hear was someone spitting – it didn’t sound like his brother. Then there was the sound of someone chuckling – that definitely didn’t sound like Howard, who had a much more annoying laugh, in Peregrine’s opinion.
And then the radio clicked off.
‘Howard?’ said the wing commander into the silence. ‘Howard? Where ARE you?’
CHAPTER 2:
Head in the Sand
KWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
The Alarm Squeal rang all around the PiPs base. As the team charged for the door, Pete called to Lola, ‘You can hardly see that spot on your nose, you know.’
‘You can see it from SPACE!’ wailed the radio operator.
The PiPs were surprised to find the wing commander already outside waiting for them. Somehow he had managed to squeeze his bulk into a PiPs operational flightsuit.
‘Tammy and Brian, you stay here with Lola,’ he instructed.
Tammy raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
Peregrine gave a determined nod. ‘This mission is family business.’
‘Where are we headed?’ asked Pete.
‘To Camel Island! We’re going to the desert!’
Minutes later, the PiPs were flying south towards Camel Island. Curly rode with Pete in SkyHog 1, while Peregrine took the controls of Brian’s plane.
‘Careful, Peregrine,’ said Pete over the radio. ‘You’re wobbling a bit. It’s been a while since you’ve flown a SkyHog jet, you know.’
‘Nonsense!’ said the wing commander. ‘You never forget how to fly – it’s just like riding a bike!’
‘Yeah,’ said Pete, ‘just like riding a high-speed, fuel-injected, rocket-powered bike!’
As they flew, Peregrine explained everything he knew about the mission. ‘My brother is on a team looking for the hidden tomb of the ancient Camel Pharaoh Nokankumin. They’ve been digging near the Valley of the Camel Kings. Apparently, Howard went off into the desert to check out a new lead. Now he’s gone and got himself stranded without any provisions or transport.’ He tutted. ‘Typical Howard – always got his head in the sand. He’s spent years looking for Nokankumin’s tomb, and he still hasn’t found it. Can’t be looking hard enough, if you ask me.’
‘But Lola says YOU can’t find your own underpants without a map of the area,’ said Curly, scratching his head.
‘What’s that, McHoglet?’
‘Nothing, sir.’ The trainee PiP glanced out of the window. They had flown beyond the cities that clung to the coastline of Camel Island. Now they were coming to the edge of the enormous desert. Curly looked eagerly at all the lovely yellow sand dunes below, stretching for miles in every direction.
It wasn’t long before they reached the right coordinates and spotted the abandoned jeep in the sand below.
‘See?’ muttered the wing commander. ‘Always got his head in the sand.’
The PiPs landed their jets on the nearest stretch of level ground and then raced out into the heat of the desert.
Not far from the jeep, there was a shallow pit with a string roping it off, a small pop-up tent and several other items lying around … but no sign of Howard.
While Pete went to check the tent, Peregrine looked over the abandoned jeep.
‘I love sand!’ cried Curly, hopping up and down with excitement. ‘Can we build a sandcastle when we’ve found your brother? Can we? Huh?’
‘Don’t be so silly, McHoglet!’ said the wing commander, wondering where on earth his brother could have got to. ‘You haven’t even got a spade!’
Curly pulled a little red plastic spade out of his back pocket. ‘My nan sent me one!’
‘Put it away!’ said Peregrine. ‘Anyway, there’s no point having a spade with no bucket!’
But Curly just pointed to an upturned bucket a few metres away.
‘I can use that!’ he said. He charged over and picked the bucket up.
‘EEK!’ he cried, slamming it back down again.
‘What’s wrong, lad?’
The young pig had gone a pale shade of pink with just a touch of green round the edges. ‘There’s … a head underneath this bucket.’
‘What? Show me!’ demanded Peregrine.
With trembling trotters, Curly lifted the bucket again. It was true – there, underneath the bucket, was a pig’s head. Its eyes seemed almost to be looking up at them from the sand.
‘It’s horrible, isn’t it?’ gasped Curly.
‘Dreadful!’ agreed Peregrine, looking down at the head. ‘Do you actually call that thing above your lip a moustache, Howard?’
CHAPTER 3:
Mummies for Dummies
Back at PIPs HQ, Lola was frantically looking for an alternative fancy-dress costume – one that would cover the spot on her snout.
‘How about this one?’ she asked.
‘Pardon?’ said Brian.
Lola opened up the front panel of the gigantic metal deep-sea diving helmet she was wearing now. ‘I said, how about this costume?’
Tammy shook her head. ‘I don’t think you’ll be able to dance much in that, Lola.’
The radio operator wandered off to look for something else.
Meanwhile Tammy had some questions for Brian. ‘Who was this Nokankumin character anyway?’
The PiPs medic tried to hide the hurt look in his eyes. ‘Didn’t you read the book I got you for your birthday? Mummies for Dummies – Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About the Ancient Pharaohs of Camel Island, Plus Quite a Lot More? It had a whole chapter on Nokankumin.’
‘Yes, yes, of course I read that,’ lied Tammy. ‘It was brilliant. But … erm … just remind me of the main bits.’
Brian sighed. ‘Thousands of years ago Camel Island was ruled by powerful camel pharaohs. They built the pyramids.’
‘What, all by themselves?’ asked Tammy.
‘Well, no, they didn’t actually roll up their sleeves and lug all those gigantic stones across the desert themselves. They had armies of animal slaves to do it for them. The pharaohs were very powerful, and the most powerful of all was Nokankumin. According to legend, he claimed that he was more powerful even than the gods themselves.’
Tammy nodded. ‘I get the picture. He ordered everyone about, didn’t do a lick of work himself and was a bighead. I had a boss like that once!’ She glanced at a photo of Peregrine on the office wall. ‘Come to think of it, I still do!’
Brian continued explaining about Nokankumin. ‘When they died, the pharaohs were buried in huge tombs in the desert with lots of treasures all around them. Over the centuries, grave robbers have stolen everything from these tombs … all except Nokankumin’s. Nobody has ever found it, but from what I understand, Howard Oinks-Gruntington and his team are close to discovering it at last.’
‘Cool!’ said Tammy.
‘And then finally, animal
s can stop going on and on about the Curse of Nokankumin’s Tomb,’ continued Brian.
Tammy froze. ‘What did you say? A CURSE? What curse?’
‘Supposedly, terrible things are meant to happen to any intruder who disturbs the tomb of Nokankumin.’ Brian smiled. ‘Silly, isn’t it?’
But Tammy was already on her trotters and running towards the radio.
‘What are you doing?’ the medic asked her.
‘I’m checking the others are OK!’ she cried.
Brian blinked in confusion. ‘Tammy, I can assure you that on a simple mission like this, absolutely nothing bad is going to happen to anyone on the team.’
Brian had absolutely no idea just how wrong he was …
To Curly’s relief, the pig’s head on the sand wasn’t just a pig’s head. Well, it was – but it was also attached to a pig’s body, which had been buried in the sand. Specifically, the head belonged to Howard Oinks-Gruntington, famous archaeologist and younger brother of Peregrine Oinks-Gruntington.
Howard glared up at his big brother. ‘Are you going to stand there all day with that silly-looking monocle and that ridiculously oversized moustache, or are you going to get me out of here?’
Peregrine frowned. ‘You always were an ungrateful little porker, Howard, even when we were piglets.’ He turned to Curly. ‘Dig him out, would you, young McHoglet?’
Happily, Curly got to work. ‘I knew it was a good idea to bring a spade!’
The wing commander looked towards the tent and shouted, ‘What are you doing over there, Captain Porker? We’ve found Howard!’ As Curly continued to dig, Peregrine turned and asked, ‘So how did you go and get yourself in a mess like this, Howard?’
‘Ptt-pttt-pppppt-owf!’ replied the younger Oinks-Gruntington.
‘Speak up!’ boomed Peregrine. ‘You always were a mumbler!’