Second Slice
The Society of Puddin'-owners were up bright and early next morning, andhad the billy on and tea made before six o'clock, which is the best partof the day, because the world has just had his face washed, and the airsmells like Pears' soap.
'Aha,' said Bill Barnacle, cutting up slices of the Puddin', 'this iswhat I call grand. Here we are, after a splendid night's sleep on dryleaves, havin' a smokin' hot slice of steak-and-kidney for breakfastround the camp fire. What could be more delightful?'
'What indeed?' said Bunyip Bluegum sipping tea.
'Why, as I always say,' said Bill, 'if there's one thing more entrancin'than sittin' round a camp fire in the evenin' it's sitting round a campfire in the mornin'. No bed and blankets and breakfast tables for BillBarnacle. For as I says in my "Breakfast Ballad"--
'If there's anythin' better than lyin' on leaves, It's risin' from leaves at dawnin', If there's anythin' better than sleepin' at eve, It's wakin' up in the mawnin'.
'If there's anythin' better than camp firelight, It's bright sunshine on wakin'. If there's anythin' better than puddin' at night, It's puddin' when day is breakin'.
'If there's anythin' better than singin' away While the stars are gaily shinin', Why, it's singin' a song at dawn of day, On puddin' for breakfast dinin'.'
There was a hearty round of applause at this song, for as Bunyip Bluegumremarked, 'Singing at breakfast should certainly be more commonlyindulged in, as it greatly tends to enliven what is on most occasions asomewhat dull proceeding.'
'One of the great advantages of being a professional Puddin'-owner,'said Sam Sawnoff, 'is that songs at breakfast are always encouraged.None of the ordinary breakfast rules, such as scowling while eating, andsaying the porridge is as stiff as glue and the eggs are as tough asleather, are observed. Instead, songs, roars of laughter, and boisterousjests are the order of the day. For example, this sort of thing,' addedSam, doing a rapid back-flap and landing with a thump on Bill's head. AsBill was unprepared for this act of boisterous humour, his face waspushed into the Puddin' with great violence, and the gravy was splashedin his eye.
'What d'yer mean, playin' such bungfoodlin' tricks on a man atbreakfast?' roared Bill.
'What d'yer mean,' shouted the Puddin', 'playing such foodbunglingtricks on a Puddin' being breakfasted at?'
'Breakfast humour, Bill, merely breakfast humour,' said Sam hastily.
'Humour's humour,' shouted Bill, 'but puddin' in the whiskers is nojoke.'
'Whiskers in the Puddin' is worse than puddin' in the whiskers,' shoutedthe Puddin', standing up in his basin.
'Observe the rules, Bill,' said Sam hurriedly. 'Boisterous humour at thebreakfast table must be greeted with roars of laughter.'
'To Jeredelum with the rules,' shouted Bill. 'Pushing a man's face intohis own breakfast is beyond rules or reason, and deserves a punch in thegizzard.'
Seeing matters arriving at this unpromising situation, Bunyip Blueguminterposed by saying, 'Rather than allow this happy occasion to bemarred by unseemly recriminations, let us, while admitting that ouradmirable friend, Sam, may have unwittingly disturbed the composure ofour admirable friend, Bill, at the expense of our admirable Puddin'sgravy, let us, I say, by the simple act of extending the hand offriendship, dispel in an instant these gathering clouds of disruption.In the words of the poem--
'Then let the fist of Friendship Be kept for Friendship's foes. Ne'er let that hand in anger land On Friendship's holy nose.'
These fine sentiments at once dispelled Bill's anger. He shook handswarmly with Sam, wiped the gravy from his face, and resumed breakfastwith every appearance of hearty good humour.
The meal over, the breakfast things were put away in the bag, Sam andBill took Puddin' between them, and all set off along the road,enlivening the way with song and story. Bill regaled them with portionsof the 'Ballad of the _Salt Junk Sarah_', which is one of those songsthat go on for ever. Its great advantage, as Bill remarked, was that asit hadn't got an ending it didn't need a beginning, so you could startit anywhere.
'As for instance,' said Bill, and he roared out--
'Ho, aboard the _Salt Junk Sarah_, Rollin' home across the line, The Bo'sun collared the Captain's hat And threw it in the brine. Rollin' home, rollin' home, Rollin' home across the foam, The Captain sat without a hat The whole way rollin' home.'
Entertaining themselves in this way as they strolled along, they werepresently arrested by shouts of 'Fire! Fire!' and a Fireman in a largehelmet came bolting down the road, pulling a fire hose behind him.
'Aha!' said Bill. 'Now we shall have the awe-inspirin' spectacle of afire to entertain us,' and, accosting the Fireman, he demanded to knowwhere the fire was.
'The fact is,' said the Fireman, 'that owing to the size of this helmetI can't see where it is; but if you will kindly glance at thesurrounding district, you'll see it about somewhere.'
They glanced about and, sure enough, there was a fire burning in thenext field. It was only a cowshed, certainly, but it was blazing verynicely, and well worth looking at.
'Fire,' said Bill, 'in the form of a common cowshed, is burnin' aboutnor'-nor'-east as the crow flies.'
'In that case,' said the Fireman, 'I invite all present bravely toassist in putting it out. But,' he added impressively, 'if you'll takemy advice, you'll shove that Puddin' in this hollow log and roll astone agen the end to keep him in, for if he gets too near the flameshe'll be cooked again and have his flavour ruined.'
'This is a very sensible feller,' said Bill, and though Puddin' objectedstrongly, he was at once pushed into a log and securely fastened in witha large stone.
'How'd you like to be shoved in a blooming log,' he shouted at Bill,'when you was burning with anxiety to see the fire?' but Bill saidseverely, 'Be sensible, Albert, fires is too dangerous to Puddin'sflavours.'
No more time was lost in seizing the hose and they set off with thegreatest enthusiasm. For, as everyone knows, running with the reel isone of the grand joys of being a fireman. They had the hose fixed to agarden tap in no time, and soon were all hard at work, putting out thefire.
Of course there was a great deal of smoke and shouting, and gettingtripped up by the hose, and it was by the merest chance Bunyip Bluegumglanced back in time to see the Wombat in the act of stealing thePuddin' from the hollow log.
'Treachery is at work,' he shouted.
'Treachery,' roared Bill, and with one blow on the snout knocked theFireman endways on into the burning cinders, where his helmet fell off,and exposed the countenance of that snooting, snouting scoundrel, thePossum.
The Possum, of course, hadn't expected to have his disguise pierced soswiftly, and, though he managed to scramble out of the fire in time tosave his bacon, he was considerably singed down the back.
'What a murderous attack!' he exclaimed. 'O, what a brutal attempt toburn a man alive!' and as some hot cinders had got down his back he gavea sharp yell and ran off, singeing and smoking. Bill, distracted withrage, ran after the Possum, then changed his mind and ran after theWombat, so that, what with running first after one and then after theother, they both had time to get clean away, and disappeared over theskyline.
'I see it all,' shouted Bill, casting himself down in despair. 'Them lowpuddin'-thieves has borrowed a fireman's helmet, collared a hose, an'set fire to a cowshed in order to lure us away from the Puddin'.'
'The whole thing's a low put-up job on our noble credulity,' said Sam,casting himself down beside Bill.
'It's one of the most frightful things that's ever happened,' said Bill.
'It's worse than treading on tacks with bare feet,' said Sam.
'It's worse than bein' caught stealin' fowls,' said Bill.
'It's worse than bein' stood on by cows,' said Sam.
'It's almost as bad as havin' an uncle called Aldobrantifoscofornio,'said Bill, and they both sang loudly--
'It's worse than weevils, worse than warts, It's worse than corns to be
ar. It's worse than havin' several quarts Of treacle in your hair.
The Magic Pudding Page 4