The Warrior Sheep Down Under

by Christopher Russell

  This was more like it. The emu had them both going now. It darted its head one more time, turned, and waggled its bottom at the sheep. Then ran, bounding away, swiftly and effortlessly, its long legs, with their powerful three-toed feet, covering the ground with huge strides.

  Oxo and Links hurtled in pursuit, their heads down, their hooves pounding the dusty dirt track.

  Sal, Jaycey, and Wills looked at each other.

  “I sometimes wish…” sighed Sal. But there was no time to ask exactly what. If they stayed where they were, they would lose Oxo and Links. They raced after the big rams as fast as they could.

  26

  Wind in the Wires

  Jumpup wasn’t the biggest place in Australia. The trail from Lonely Flats led into it at one end and a dirt road to nowhere in particular led out of it at the other. In between was just one street with a few houses. The ten people who lived there all knew Jon at Lonely Flats and he’d asked them to take a photograph of Alice Barton when she arrived. This was about as exciting as things ever got in Jumpup and everyone was on the lookout.

  “I see dust!” someone shouted. “She’s coming!”

  Two other residents stretched a green ribbon between two small gum trees on either side of the track expectantly.

  Tension mounted. Then an emu appeared at speed. Pursued by a bunch of sheep. The emu ducked under the green ribbon, then swerved off the track into the scrubby bush.

  “See ya!” it called over its shoulder as it disappeared. “Not bad for a bunch of overweight woolbags.”

  “You’d better keep running, mate…” Oxo gasped, his sides heaving. “We’re not even up to half speed yet…” He collapsed in a heap. The other warriors flopped beside him.

  The watching humans had observed the sheep’s arrival with interest.

  “Never know what’s gonna happen next in Jumpup,” said one.

  Everyone agreed. It was too hot to argue. They all settled back in the shade and resumed waiting.

  The sheep, having got their breath back, hurried under the green ribbon, then along the street, now earnestly looking for their fairy godtingy. There was no sign of her.

  “Maybe we passed her on the track just now,” suggested Wills. “I couldn’t see anything for dust.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Links. “An’ we was movin’ sheeply quick.”

  They wandered down the street until they reached the last house, then gazed in silence at the vast expanse of nothingness beyond. They all felt very tiny.

  “Our fairy godtingy is soooo not here!” Jaycey suddenly sobbed. “Sal, I’m frightened…”

  “We’s one hundred percent lost this time, man,” said Links.

  Sal tried to think of something comforting to say but couldn’t. “I can’t imagine where we went wrong, dears,” she sighed finally.

  Wills did a bit better. “Well, this must be Jumpup Crossing,” he said positively. “And Boomer told us Barton’s Billabong was just a couple of bounces away from here.”

  “Yeah, right,” grunted Oxo. “But which way are we s’posed to bounce?”

  They all stood in anxious, uncomfortable silence again. Links was the first to raise his head. “Listen up, guys,” he said softly.

  They all listened. And way above their heads, they heard a sort of sobbing and sighing and tap tap tapping.

  “It’s her again, right?” whispered Links. “The maiden in diswhatsit…”

  The sheep were standing at the bottom of a tall wooden pole. Beyond it, they could see another pole, then another and another, and another, a straight line of them, stretching into the endless distance. And the sobbing and sighing was growing louder and louder. It became a wail. A heartrending wail.

  “Ohmygrass…” whimpered Jaycey. “It is her. Tacky Tuftella…She must be very close…”

  Sal drew a deep breath. “Thank you, fairy godtingy!” she cried. “Wherever you are. I understand. You have guided us thus far, and now we must go on alone. We will follow the sobbing and sighing until we rescue Tuftella from the clutches of evil. Or perish in the attempt! Onward, warriors!”

  “Er, Sal…” Wills didn’t want to upset her again but he was worried about the poles. They were joined to each other at the top by wires, just like the telephone poles at home in Eppingham. Surely the moaning and wailing was only the breeze in the wires?

  Then, as he turned to face Sal, he noticed a wooden board screwed to the side of the last house in Jumpup. On the board was an arrow pointing in the same direction as the poles. And in peeling paint beneath the arrow were the words: BARTON’S BILLABONG ANIMAL SANCTUARY.

  “What is it now, dear?” asked Sal, slightly irritably. “Are you going to tell us the sound we hear is just wind in the wires? As you suggested about the boats at Murkton?”

  “No,” said Wills. He grinned. “Everything’s fine. I was just going to say we’re on the right track.”

  “Oh,” said Sal. She beamed. “Excellent.” And she set off at a brisk trot. “Wasn’t there something we had to watch out for, dear? Something to do with floods…?”

  “Salties,” said Wills. But he still didn’t know what they were.

  27

  Searching for Frank

  The warriors were well on their way toward Barton’s Billabong when Alice finally staggered up to the green ribbon.

  The good people of Jumpup greeted her most enthusiastically, cameras at the ready.

  “Good on you!” said one of the women, handing her a bottle of water. Alice grabbed it and emptied it in one long swig.

  “I guess you’re hungry too?” the woman went on. She kept her face straight as she handed a little dish to Alice. “We’d be honored if you’d try one of our traditional delicacies.”

  Alice, who was indeed very hungry, grabbed the dish without a thank you, picked up what she thought was a small, white sausage and stuffed it in her mouth. The taste and the texture were odd. She looked at the woman suspiciously.

  “Just witchetty grubs!” said the woman with an innocent smile. She showed Alice another one. It squirmed in the palm of her hand.

  Alice’s eyes bulged. She tried to spit the grub out but it was at the back of her throat and going down. Gulp! She shut her eyes and swallowed.

  “Click…click…click…” went the cameras.

  “Sorry about that,” gurgled the woman. “Just Motte and Bailey’s little joke. They used to love witchetties.”

  Alice snatched the camera that was held out for her and glanced at the screen. Her face was a picture. Of horror. Again. But this was the final time. The last laugh would not be on her.

  She looked up as Norman wheezed into town.

  “Oh, well done again, Miss Barton,” said Deidre, leaning out of the truck.

  Alice could tell she was trying not to laugh. Still, that was another pleasure to look forward to: giving Deidre Dishcloth the sack.

  “Here, poppet,” she said briskly, thrusting the camera at her. “Email this to Mr. Creeply and let’s go. Time’s running out.”

  She climbed into the truck and flopped into a seat. Just a few more hours and success would be hers.

  • • •

  In the dimly lit office at the base of Maiden Tower, Mr. Creeply’s inbox pinged. He smiled at the latest photo and typed a quick reply: “Photo accepted. But I must remind you that the date is November 30 and you must present yourself at Barton’s Billabong by sunset today. If you are not here by sunset, the estate will pass to Mr. Frank Smith.”

  Mr. Creeply smiled again and placed the deeds of ownership to Barton’s Billabong neatly on the desk. He didn’t for a moment think they’d be going to Mr. Frank Smith.

  • • •

  Outside the tower, Tod and Ida had completed another search of the sanctuary. Every cage and shelter. Plus two circuits of the perimeter fence.

  “I’ve phoned the police,” said Nat, hurrying to join them. “I’ll tell you what, though—we could try the creek. Frank occasionally goes fishing there.”

  He d
rove them the short distance to the creek in the open-backed van he called an “ute.” The creek was about six yards wide and about a yard deep in the middle, with gently sloping banks on either side.

  “I’d better get back to watch out for the police,” Nat said as he helped Ida out of the ute. “Just keep your eyes open for salties, OK? We had floods recently and there may just be one or two about still. Even this far inland.”

  Tod’s stomach turned over. He knew that salties were saltwater crocodiles: vicious, hungry creatures. And that they were difficult to spot, either in the water or on the bank, because they were the color and texture of the mud and could lie log-still for hours, until something tasty came into range. Then their huge jaws would snap open and their unfortunate victim would be trapped and dragged into the water and held under until it drowned. The biggest salties could easily hold down a small kangaroo or a sheep. Or a human.

  Ida felt very sick. Surely Frank couldn’t have been dragged in and eaten by a crocodile?

  When Nat had driven off, she did something Tod hadn’t seen her do for a very long time. She burst into tears.

  Tod put his arm around her shoulder.

  “Come on, Gran,” he said gently. “Frank’s too old and leathery for even the hungriest crocodile to bother with.”

  They searched the bank cautiously, but saw no sign that anyone had been dragged into the water by a salty. But there was no sign of Frank, either.

  “Let’s go back, Gran,” said Tod at last. “The police should have arrived by now.”

  But the police were not at the sanctuary when Tod and Ida walked in half an hour later. Nor was Nat. And when Tod tried to telephone the police himself from Frank’s house, he found that the wire had been cut.

  • • •

  And although neither Tod nor Ida had seen a salty, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one in the creek. Soon after they’d walked away, what they’d imagined to be a large log, lying half submerged in the water, began to move.

  28

  Snapping Monsters

  The warriors had galloped most of the way along the rough track from Jumpup Crossing. They were full of energy after their earlier long sleep, fired up, and ready for anything. They sang as they ran.

  “We’s the Eppingham Posse

  And we’s givin’ it a go.

  We’s comin’ for Tuftella

  If you really wanna know.

  She’s a special kinda sheep,

  She’s the fairest ewe of all,

  And we’s gonna do a rescue

  ’cause we never fail the call!”

  The lone crocodile lay perfectly still, just its eyes visible. Watching. Listening. It had hoped for a snack. Instead, a five-course banquet was trotting its way.

  Wills suddenly stopped singing.

  “There it is…” he cried excitedly. “Maiden Tower!”

  The others stopped and followed his gaze. There, across the creek and a stretch of bush beyond, rose a tall stone building.

  “Nice one, Willsyboy…” said Oxo, after they’d all stared at the tower in awed silence for a bit.

  Then the great ram glanced at the water between them and their goal. “Last one in’s a sissy!” he shouted.

  Wills raced after him, then suddenly remembered the kangaroo’s warning.

  “Whoa! Slow down, Oxo. What was it the kangaroo said about salties? Something to do with floods? That means water…” But he was too late.

  Oxo’s front hooves were already in the creek when he saw the log move. And noticed the mean greenish-brown eyes staring at him. The salty lunged forward and its great jaws clicked open, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth. Oxo veered sideways to avoid the teeth but was instantly knocked head-over-hooves by a lash of the croc’s great tail. The ram briefly disappeared beneath the frothing brown water. His hooves churned mud from the bottom of the creek as he scrabbled upright, then he slewed this way and that, trying to avoid the snapping jaws and lashing tail. Finally, Oxo gathered all his remaining strength, pushed off, and lunged desperately for the bank. The jaws snapped again. And this time they closed around a part of Oxo’s rear end.

  “Ohmygrassohmygrassohmyoxooo…!”

  Oxo tugged hard, yanking himself free, then scrambled and scrabbled out of the water. The crocodile was left with just a chunk of creamy white fleece in its mouth.

  But the danger wasn’t over.

  “Run!” yelled Wills. “Run. It’s coming after us!”

  The crocodile wasn’t giving up on its dinner easily. It was pulling itself out of the water, its three-meter long body propelled rapidly by its stubby legs and whipping tail.

  The warriors turned and fled. Straight into the path of a battered orange truck.

  • • •

  Deidre, who was taking a turn at driving, jammed on the brakes “It’s them again,” she gasped. “Those sheep!”

  In the passenger seat beside her, Shelly had already seen the crocodile. “Holy-moly!”

  Alice leapt up behind her. “I was right all along,” she screamed at Deidre. “It is a plot. You’re using them to stop me getting to the Billabong in time!” She pushed past Shelly, slid the passenger door open, and tried to jump out. She wanted to kick the sheep out of the way, once and for all. But Shelly grabbed her shirt and shoved her back into her seat.

  “Idiot!” she said to Alice. “Stupid, stupid idiot!”

  Outside the van, the sheep were running in all directions, then reforming into a flock as the crocodile tried to pick out a victim.

  “Oh no!” Deidre cried. “It’s almost got the little one!”

  Shelly opened her door, grasped the edge of Norm’s roof, and hauled herself up. She ran along the top, dropped down on to Normette, leaned down, and yanked the door off. String and all. “Glad I never got round to getting that properly fixed,” she muttered. Then she stood up and loudly whistled through her fingers. “Here, sheepy sheepy sheep…”

  • • •

  The warriors had veered off the track in an attempt to escape the snapping jaws. Wills heard Shelly and glanced back.

  “Guys!” he shouted. “Stop. Turn back!”

  In bleating turmoil, the sheep did as he said. They found themselves facing the crocodile’s eyes and teeth as it scuttled toward them. But then Links saw what Wills wanted them to do.

  “Jump, man, jump!” And he led the way up and through the open doorway of the trailer. Sal, Wills Jaycey, and lastly Oxo followed.

  “Drive!” shouted Shelly. “Drive!”

  The crocodile’s jaws snapped one more time. And were left with just another chunk of Oxo’s wool.

  “Man,” said Links, as the truck and trailer lurched away. “You’s gonna be bald by the time we finish Down Under.”

  Shelly stayed where she was, crouched on Normette’s roof, until she was sure the salty had given up the chase. Then she banged on Norm’s roof and Deidre pulled up again. Shelly leapt from the roof and swung herself back into the driver’s seat.

  “They’ll make a mess of your luggage,” she told Alice cheerfully, “but I’m sure you won’t mind that.”

  “Of course not,” replied Alice savagely. “I should hate to have them eaten by a crocodile.”

  Shelly was peering at the creek as she drove, searching for the shallowest stretch. “OK,” she warned. “All body parts to be kept inside the vehicle. We’re going through.”

  And she turned Norm down the bank and splashed him into the creek. The water lapped the wheel arches as she drove slowly across.

  Peeping out of Normette’s open doorway, Jaycey panicked again.

  “Ohmygrassohmygrassarethereanymoresalties?”

  Oxo grunted. “No worries. Didn’t you see my brilliant spin turn?”

  “Nah,” said Links. “We only see’d you bein’ sheared.”

  Jaycey didn’t have to panic for long. Soon, they were on dry land again, bumping toward Barton’s Billabong.

  Squashed on top of a smart suitcase, Sal was intoning happily:
>
  “And locked in darkest tower tall

  Whilst ’neath her snapping monsters crawl…”

  “Couldn’t get much more snappy than that tingy back there,” said Links.

  “And did you see who first tried to step out and stand in its path?” inquired Sal. “Who first tried to save us?”

  “Our fairy godtingy,” they all chorused obediently.

  “Quite,” said Sal, her eyes gleaming. “And now she carries us to the darkest tower. Now we will face the final thunder!”

  The others nodded dutifully. Except for Oxo, who was thoughtfully chewing a toilet paper roll.

  • • •

  It was while the sheep were dealing with the snapping monster that Tod and Ida had arrived back at the sanctuary and found the phone wire cut and Nat gone missing. For a few moments, they’d stood in Frank’s kitchen feeling very alone and vulnerable. There was no mobile reception at the Billabong. All this vast, quiet emptiness, with only themselves and the rescue animals. And Mr. Creeply.

  “Is there a phone in the office?” asked Tod suddenly. Ida didn’t know.

  “I think we need to find out.” Tod dropped the end of the phone wire he was holding. “This didn’t cut itself. I’m going to speak to Mr. Creeply.”

  “You’re not going without me,” Ida told him firmly. “I’ve lost my brother and I’ve lost my lovely flock of sheep. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “You won’t, Gran,” said Tod. “But we need to get help quickly.”

  He gave her a reassuring smile and raced off across the yard.

  “Be careful, Tod,” Ida shouted after him. “I don’t trust that Creeply man.” She hitched up her skirt and followed as fast as her old legs would take her.

  On reaching the rope bridge, Tod paused in surprise. The tower’s main door stood wide open. Tod glanced around, then ran lightly across the bridge.

  “Mr. Creeply?” he called, as he reached the tower doorway. There was no answer.

  Tod stepped warily into the tower. He blinked as he passed from the bright sunlight into near-darkness. Then the darkness became complete as a pillowcase was thrust over his head.