Howie the Yowie

by Pat Clarke

  It was only then that the creature pulled out the envelope and read the note. It must have decided to return to its hiding place, thought Scarfie, as the monster rose to its hind legs.

  Scarfie had to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when he saw what happened next.

  As the Yowie tried to stand up, it swayed back and forth and left to right, before finally toppling onto all fours. It crawled a few paces before attempting to stand again. This time its legs gave way completely and it collapsed in a big, hairy heap.

  Scarfie rushed over to the limp body. I hope it’s not dead, he thought. A monster like this is worth much more alive than dead. He bent over the Yowie and was able to hear some snuffling breathing noises. Thank goodness for that! The pills had done their job perfectly. The beast would be out of action for many hours, so he’d have plenty of time to carry out the rest of his plan.

  He returned to the forest some time later, leading a large horse pulling a cage on wheels—the kind they use to transport circus animals, like lions and tigers. He parked the cage as close as he could to the unconscious Yowie and shone a torch onto its face. Good. The monster was well and truly out of it!

  After much huffing and puffing and cursing, Scarfie finally managed to get the beast into the cage. But he wasn’t quite finished. First, he covered the Yowie in a large kangaroo-skin rug. Next, he padlocked the door and put the key into his pocket. Finally, he covered the cage itself with a massive tarpaulin and tied it down with strong rope, to keep people from seeing what was inside. At last he was done!

  Exhausted but satisfied, Scarfie mounted his horse, kicked his heels against its flanks, and headed towards town, pulling the cage behind him.

  Despite feeling very pleased with himself, Scarfie also felt quite dizzy. At first he thought it was the thrill of capturing the monster, but soon the buzz in his head became a sickening throb.

  Now he was aching all over, his head was pounding, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. One moment he was flushed with heat, and the next he was shivering with icy chills. Perhaps he had pneumonia after all!

  What he desperately needed was to rest. But Scarfie was far from home and had nowhere to go. He had spent the past few nights sleeping in his swag in the forest, but this was no time for camping. All he wanted was a nice, warm, dry bed where he could sleep it off.

  Scarfie racked his brain. The only person who might possibly help him was old Tom Jackson—the town drunk who’d once claimed to have seen the Yowie.

  I’ll go there, he decided. I just need to lie down for a bit before I head off to Sydney—where fame and fortune await!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Unveiling

  Old Tom was quite happy to give him a bed for the night, but was curious about the cage.

  ‘Never you mind,’ was the angry reply. ‘Just mind your own business and keep your trap shut.’ Then, realising that he shouldn’t offend the only person likely to help him, Scarfie added, ‘Here, take this money and go have a drink at the pub. I’ll just have some shut-eye and take off in the morning when I’m feeling better.’

  Tom scuttled off to the local tavern. He had seldom had so much money to spend. He felt like a king!

  Jim Richards and his mate Joe Maloney were sitting in a corner of the tavern discussing business when Tom burst in. Rushing over to them, flourishing a handful of bank notes, he announced grandly, ‘I’m shouting. What would you like to drink?’

  ‘Nothing for me, thanks,’ answered Jim as he stood up. ‘I’m just about to get on home. It’s much too late for me already. I’ve had a big couple of days.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard you were out Yowie-hunting. Didn’t have any luck, did ya?’

  ‘Nope. Never expected I would. There are no Yowies in the Goonoo.’

  ‘Well,’ said Tom knowingly, ‘you’re gunna look pretty foolish when everybody sees what Scarfie’s got in his cage.’

  Jim sat down again. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ said Tom in a hushed tone, ‘I’m not s’posed to say nothin’, but Scarfie turned up at my place this arvo with one of them circus-animal cages. Mate, there’s somethin’ inside—I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it breathing! He’s got the whole darn contraption covered over with a tarp!’ Seeing the looks on their faces, he added triumphantly, ‘I bet you any money it’s a Yowie! Then everybody in this darn tootin’ town will have to say sorry to me, seein’ as how no one ever believed me afore this.’

  Jim stood up again. He took his leave of old Tom Jackson and turned to his mate Joe.

  ‘How about you walk a short way with me, Joe—there’s something I want to ask you.’

  When old Tom finally staggered back to his cottage that night, he found his house guest Scarfie delirious with fever. He sent for the doctor.

  ‘He’s been rantin’ and ravin’ all night long about savage beasts, bearded ladies … all kinds of queer things!’ he explained.

  The doctor scratched his head and thought for a moment.

  ‘I’d say he’s probably got the flu. Just give him a couple of doses of this tonic, and he should be okay in a couple of days.’

  But the doctor (who was really a “horse” doctor, and not a “people” doctor) was wrong. The patient died that night.

  Tom Jackson was not a bit upset. If anything, he was delighted. As far as he was concerned, the cage holding the Yowie now belonged to him. He would take the beast to Sydney and sell it to the highest bidder. Or, better still, maybe he could travel around the countryside, charging people to have a look. But first things first, he thought. Now was his chance to show the townsfolk how wrong they had been.

  At the tavern the next night, Tom boasted how he had captured a Yowie and would show them all the following morning. Their laughter at this announcement infuriated him. ‘Fine,’ he said, jamming his hat onto his head and stalking angrily out the door. ‘Be at the town square tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh!’

  A huge crowd gathered at the town square the next morning. Everyone was there. Young and old, the wealthy and the poor—all turned up bright and early to see the unveiling. Some were even beginning to believe old Tom.

  Perhaps he really had caught a Yowie after all!

  Tom Jackson, bursting with pride, strutted up and down beside the covered cage. He had dug out his best shirt and was even wearing a necktie for the occasion. For the first time in his life, he had the whole town’s attention and was planning to make the most of it. He started off with a lecture about Yowies generally—their habits, what they ate, and so on. What he didn’t know, he simply made up. He told gory stories of cannibalism and baby stealing, and by the time he had finished, a hushed silence had fallen over the crowd.

  Suddenly one of the children piped up, ‘Boy, oh boy, them Yowies sure do stink, don’t they?’

  ‘Of course they do, boy,’ said Tom. ‘Everyone knows it. That’s how you can tell when there’s Yowies around—by the terrible stench.’

  The crowd sniffed the air. They all agreed. Yowies really stank!

  An impatient onlooker yelled, ‘Cut out the yakking will ya, we haven’t got all day! Give us a look, then!’

  Old Tom took a knife from his pocket and raised it ceremoniously. Everybody gasped. But no, it was just to cut the ropes holding down the tarp that covered the cage. Next, he pulled off the tarpaulin itself, and there, lying on the floor of the cage, was a large beast of some kind, covered by a huge kangaroo-skin rug.

  The watching crowd gasped in amazement.

  Old Tom opened the cage door and stepped inside. Holding his nose with one hand, he used the other to grasp one corner of the rug. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, bowing to the audience, ‘may I present … The YOWIE!!!’ and with a flourish he threw the covering aside to expose the beast beneath.

  At first there was complete silence.

  Then came a trickle of sniggers and giggles.

  These grew into waves of hysterical laughter that q
uickly echoed through the crowd until it seemed that the whole town had exploded with mirth—some laughing so hard that tears ran down their cheeks, while others held on to their sides as if they would split wide open.

  What lay dead and decaying at the bottom of the cage was not a Yowie.

  It was Joe Maloney’s dead cow, Bessie.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Good Idea

  ‘Howie doesn’t seem to be himself lately,’ remarked Jim Richards. ‘Look at him out there with Hannah. Do you think he’s sick or something?’

  Mary came over to where her husband stood by the kitchen window looking out onto the verandah. She nodded. ‘He’s been down in the mouth ever since he heard Joe Maloney was going back home to Ireland. Howie will miss him dreadfully. They’ve become such good friends ever since the time Joe helped rescue him from that dreadful Scarfie fellow.’

  For a few moments, the couple stood side by side gazing out the window, watching Howie and Hannah play with a fluffy yellow chick Joe had given Hannah the day before. Mary remembered how puzzled Howie was when he first saw the little bird. Never having seen a chicken before, he had no idea what it was and Mary had saved the poor little thing from some rough handling a couple of times.

  Why, just that morning, she’d found Howie trying to teach the little chick to fly by throwing it high up into the air. Luckily, she had managed to catch it just before it crash-landed into a prickly bush.

  Then, not long after that, she had to rescue the chick from the dam where Howie was attempting to teach it to swim. As she dried out the wet, bedraggled creature in front of the pot belly stove, she explained that, no, it wasn’t a duckling—as Howie had obviously thought—it was a baby chicken that would grow up to be a hen. And hens can’t fly or swim, she informed the crestfallen Yowie.

  Howie was extremely gentle with the little bird after that, allowing the chick to climb all over him, and stroking it softly with one hand while it pecked at the grain he held out in the other.

  Mary and Jim noticed a look of sadness come over the Yowie’s face as he gazed at the little ball of fluff.

  Where was the chicken’s mother? Howie wondered. Was she dead, or had she given the little creature away? He sniffed and wiped away a tear as he thought of the poor, deserted chick. Soon his thoughts turned to wondering why he himself had been left all alone in the forest—abandoned, just like this little one.

  Howie was sad that Joe was leaving. When he asked him why, Joe replied that he was homesick.

  What did homesick mean?

  Joe explained it was a kind of longing for your family … like feeling lost and empty without them, and wishing to be with them again.

  That led Howie to remember some other things Joe had mentioned … such as Scarfie’s claim that there were Yowies in the Blue Mountains. Could that be true? If so, perhaps they would be related to him in some way … brothers … sisters … cousins ...

  These thoughts overwhelmed Howie with sorrow. He decided he must be homesick, just like Joe.

  An idea suddenly popped into his head.

  Why not go to the Blue Mountains and see if Scarfie had been telling the truth. Then something else occurred to him. In order to get to Sydney Town and catch a ship to Ireland, Joe would have to go over the Blue Mountains. Howie had heard him talking about it. Maybe he could get a lift with Joe!

  The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. How wonderful it would be to come across other Yowies—perhaps even find a mate and have a family of his own some day!

  He grinned at the thought and his eyes lit up with excitement. Jim and Mary, who had seen his earlier tears, were delighted that Howie suddenly seemed his normal, happy self again. But what had caused this complete turnaround?

  They soon found out.

  Howie had turned his idea into a plan. He now began to put his plan into action by going off to see Joe Maloney.

  Mary and Jim were dismayed when they learned of Howie’s intentions. What about the dangers he would face? And what about the disappointment if Scarfie had been lying all along and the search was unsuccessful?

  They were surprised when Hannah encouraged her friend. ‘It will be a wonderful adventure!’ she exclaimed. ‘I only wish I could go too. It would be such fun!’

  Howie threw a huge arm across her shoulders and hugged the child against his hairy chest.

  ‘I’ll miss you terribly,’ she told him. ‘You must promise to come back as soon as you can and not stay away too long.’

  Joe Maloney liked the idea of having company on the trip and was happy to drop Howie off along the way. ‘My ship leaves for Ireland in a week’s time,’ he said, ‘so we should head off tomorrow evening at the latest. I reckon it’ll take about three days to get to the mountains, and then another two days to get to Sydney Town. We’ll travel mostly by night, so nobody sees you, Howie, and during the day you can hide in the back of the wagon under that old tarp, if needs be.’ Here Joe paused, gave Howie a cheeky grin, winked and added, ‘Just like old times, me old mate, heh?’

  Everyone laughed, but beneath the merriment was a general feeling of unease. Would Howie’s search be successful? It would be dangerous and difficult, they all knew, but hopefully luck would be with him and he would find what he was looking for.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The First Day

  Their first morning on the road was uneventful, and as they had not come across any other travellers, Joe thought it safe for Howie to sit up front. The two friends chatted away happily and had been travelling along at a steady pace for some hours, when Joe noticed a small speck on the horizon. He watched for a while and, as they drew nearer, the speck slowly began to take shape. Joe turned to his companion.

  ‘Someone on foot by the looks of it. You’d better hop in the back, old mate. Make sure you’re covered with the tarp till we see who it is—we can’t be too careful. A fella at the pub yesterday was telling me there was an escaped convict on the loose—a pretty nasty character, by the sounds of it, so we won’t take any chances.’

  As they gradually caught up to the figure, Joe’s suspicions eased. It’s just an old swagman, he thought as the bearded, raggedy-looking fellow turned around and hailed him.

  ‘G’day mate’, he said. ‘Goin’ my way?’

  ‘Well, that depends on where you’re going,’ Joe replied. ‘I’m headed for Sydney Town.’

  The man snorted. ‘That’s one place I’m definitely not goin’ to.’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help you, then.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, mister. For starters, you can get down off that wagon an’ hand over any money you’ve got.’

  As Joe looked at the rifle now pointed at him, he realised his mistake. This was no swaggie. It was a bushranger … or maybe that escaped convict!

  Knowing Howie was in the back of the wagon, Joe was not too worried by this turn of events. As a matter of fact, he found it hard not to smile when he thought of the shock in store for this villain. However, so that the Yowie would know the robber was armed, he pretended to shake with fright.

  ‘Don’t shoot … don’t shoot!’ he said loudly. ‘I’ll get down, just like you say. I’ll do whatever you want … only don’t shoot.’

  ‘What’s in ya wagon?’ asked the robber.

  ‘Only some bits and pieces of furniture—oh, and my poor old mum, having a bit of a snooze. Please don’t hurt her. She’s very weak and helpless.’

  The robber moved around to the back of the wagon.

  ‘Come on out, ya old hag!’ he shouted as he poked the tarpaulin with his rifle. ‘And hurry up about it. I haven’t got all day.’ He turned back to Joe and levelled his rifle at him. ‘Now don’t go gettin’ any ideas,’ he growled, ‘or else I’ll do your mum in … after I’ve finished you off, of course.’

  No sooner had the scoundrel finished this sentence than two large paws grabbed him from behind and lifted him high up into the air. His eyes popped, his face went red, then turned purple as he strugg
led for breath.

  Joe thought it time to step in.

  ‘You’d better stop now, Howie,’ he warned. ‘I don’t think he’ll cause us any more trouble. And we don’t want to kill him. There’s probably a big reward out for him.’

  Howie relaxed his grip. The villain fell to the ground in a heap, moaning and gasping and trembling with fear. When he saw the big hairy monster standing over him, he fainted dead away.

  While he was unconscious, they bound his hands and feet with rope and put him into the back of the wagon. Howie waited under a shady tree while Joe made a quick detour to a nearby police station.

  When he finally came to, the robber found himself in a jail cell.

  No one believed his story about a “monster”.

  ‘Hogwash,’ said the police constable in charge. ‘We know who you are and where you escaped from. That fellow who caught you and brought you in was a nice young gentleman on his way to Sydney Town. Not a monster to be seen anywhere,’ he chuckled.

  There had indeed been a reward. Joe wanted to share it, but Howie refused. He had no need or use for money, he said. ‘But,’ he added, ‘if you happen to see a doll or something special that you think Hannah might like, maybe you could buy it and send it to her.’

  Joe liked the idea very much. ‘Done!’ he said, and they shook hands.

  And now it was time to continue their journey.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Second Day

  They didn’t rush on the second day of their journey but just plodded along in the horse-drawn wagon, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the bush.