Wobar and the Quest for the Magic Calumet

by Henry Homeyer

  “Let’s get away from the airport and into town. We’re in New Orleans! Gimme five!” Roxie put out a paw, and Wobar slapped it. They were almost at the end of their quest. Or so they thought.

  CHAPTER 30

  The Fortune-Teller

  WOBAR AND ROXIE didn’t dare take a bus into town, so they walked. They arrived late at night, and Wobar’s feet ached. Roxie was disguised as a Dalmatian and pulled on her leash like a dog. They walked around looking for a cheap hotel with a fire escape. Up Basin Street, down Bourbon Street. They heard music playing, and the streets were crowded with people having a good time. Somebody bumped into Roxie and spilled beer on her. She started to growl, but stopped herself in time.

  “Well, at least no one notices us with crowds like this,” said Wobar. “But I sure would like to find a place to stay. I’m exhausted.”

  Finally, they found a likely hotel. Wobar got a room, and moments later, Roxie climbed up the fire escape and joined him. They ate the last of their food, and Wobar got out his notebook.

  “After we find the silver pipe, I’ll pay everybody back, “Wobar told Roxie, “so I’m writing down Acme Air Freight and Gulf Airways. They need to be paid for getting us to New Orleans. If I get a paper route in Woodstown, eventually I’ll make enough money.” He sighed. His notebook was full of debts, and he knew that lots of people were mad at him.

  The next morning, Wobar and Roxie slept later than usual. Roxie was already painted, and Wobar put on her leash before they went outside to explore the town. Wobar didn’t have any real good ideas about how they would begin to find the magic pipe.

  “I suppose we could look for it in a museum,” he suggested to Roxie. “After all, it’s old and valuable.”

  “Or we could look in the phone book,” said Roxie. “Maybe Bad Bert’s great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren have it.”

  But the phone book didn’t help. Nobody was listed under Blandish. So they began walking the streets of New Orleans, hoping they would find a museum or get an idea. Finally, Wobar stopped.

  “Do you see that, Roxie?” Wobar asked.

  “Yes, but don’t forget that I can’t read. It’s a sign. What does it say?”

  “Madame Gazonga. Fortunes Told. Palms Read,” read Wobar. He stared at the sign, which showed a gypsy reading a crystal ball. “Let’s go in. If she can tell fortunes, maybe she can see what happened in the past. Maybe she can tell us where the magic pipe is.”

  “On the other hand,” said Roxie,” maybe she will see through our disguises and turn us in to the police.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Wobar. “She would see that we’re only trying to do good. Anyhow, it’s worth a try. We can always run if we think she’s up to tricks.”

  Wobar went up the steps to the front door of the old house. He rang the bell. After a long wait, a little girl with long dark braids answered the door.

  “Hello,” said Wobar. “I’d like to have my fortune told. Is Madame Gazonga there?”

  “Come in,” said the girl. “She’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Wobar and Roxie waited in a darkened room. It smelled funny, sort of smoky like a campfire, but also like flowers. Roxie was nervous.

  “I don’t like this place, Wobar,” she said. “Let’s go. There must be a better way to find the silver pipe.”

  Just then Madame Gazonga entered the room. She was an old woman wearing a bright flowered skirt and a purple blouse. Her hair was covered by a scarf, and she wore large gold hoops in her ears. Several long strands of pearls hung from her neck.

  “Welcome, young man,” she said. “I can tell that you have not come to have your fortune told. What can I do for you? I sense that you have lost something. You have come to the right place. I can see into all corners of the world.”

  “Well, we sort of lost something, but not really,” said Wobar. “Umm, it’s a bit complicated.”

  “Come into my parlor,” said Madame Gazonga. She looked at Roxie. “I would prefer to have the animal stay here. Cats tend to put off my concentration.”

  “You mean Spot? She’s a very good dog. No trouble at all,” said Wobar.

  “Young man, nothing escapes the eyes of Madame Gazonga. You are dressed like an old man, but you are a boy . . . with a real mustache. Very interesting. And Spot is not a dog. And you have come a long way with a problem. For ten dollars, I will help you. Do not be afraid. I will never tell your secrets, even though I can see them.”

  Wobar hesitated. He was convinced that Madame Gazonga could help him if anybody could. But he was worried. What if she learned about the magic pipe from him, then took it herself? What if she figured out who he was? He looked to Roxie. She nodded her head, yes. Reassured, he reached for his wallet. He would take the chance.

  “Okay,” he said. “Wait here, Spot. I’ll be back.” He paid the ten dollars and followed the fortune-teller through a doorway draped in black velvet and into her parlor.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Crystal Ball

  WOBAR SAT FACING Madame Gazonga at a round wooden table in her parlor. A crystal ball sat in the middle of the table, glowing slightly. The legs of the table were carved to look like rattlesnakes, with their mouths open and fangs exposed. Wobar shuddered. The room was nearly dark, lit only by a few candles.

  “Put your fingers on the ball,” she said. She put her hands on the ball, and it began to glow more brightly. “Do not tell me anything. The crystal ball will help me see all and know all.”

  Wobar waited. He could see vague shapes and colors moving inside the crystal ball. The fortune-teller stared intently into it. Wobar kept waiting. It seemed like ages before she spoke again.

  “You have come a long way, Wobar,” she said softly.

  Wobar jumped. How could she know his name? That crystal ball was no fake, that was for sure.

  “Do not be afraid, Wobar. I will help you. I have seen Simon the ghost. I understand why you are here. It will not be easy to find the silver pipe, but I know I can find it. More than two hundred years have passed since the pipe was stolen. This may take time. I must concentrate . . . concentrate . . . concentrate . . .”

  Madame Gazonga closed her eyes. She let her head tip forward until her forehead touched the crystal ball. She gripped the ball on each side and moved her fingers over the surface. She sat up, opened her eyes, and focused again on the crystal ball.

  “Bert Blandish . . . Bad Bert . . . yes, he came here to New Orleans with the magic pipe,” said Madame Gazonga. “I see him clearly now . . . come in to my crystal ball, magic pipe . . . come in.”

  Wobar waited anxiously. He watched the fortune-teller. He tried to see the shapes moving inside the crystal ball, but it was blurry to him.

  “I see a card game . . . Bad Bert is doing badly . . . There is an argument . . . A gun is pulled . . . Shots are fired . . . The silver pipe! I see the pipe! . . . Someone takes it from Bad Bert’s pocket . . . another shot . . . Men are running . . .”

  Silence. Wobar crossed his fingers and hoped. “Please,” he thought, “please see what happens next.” There was a long silence. Madame Gazonga almost appeared to be asleep. It seemed like forever before she spoke again.

  “The pipe is sold . . . Years pass . . . It is sold again . . . Come to me, magic pipe. Where are you now? . . .” She looked at Wobar and shrugged. “We must have patience. The magic pipe is hidden somewhere hard for me to see. Maybe it does not want me to find it. Or maybe it is underwater or buried. My powers work best above ground.”

  “But isn’t there something else you can do? I must find the pipe.”

  “Come back tonight at midnight. The bewitching hour. My crystal ball will have more strength then. The calumet will show itself. This afternoon I will send out a dove to fly over the bayous. If the pipe is buried or under water, my dove will help me. Sometimes I can almost see though her eyes.”

  Wobar stood up to leave. Madame Gazonga stopped him. “Take back your money, Wobar,” she said. “Your heart is good
. You want to help all people. I cannot take money for this. And do not worry, tonight I will succeed.” She held out his ten-dollar bill.

  Wobar hesitated. He really should pay her, he thought. But she refused his offer twice, so he thanked Madame Gazonga and took back his money. He promised to return at midnight, then he and Roxie left.

  “What happened, Wobar?” Roxie asked as soon as they got outside.

  “She was amazing! She knew my name. She said she had seen Simon in her crystal ball, and she agreed to help us find the pipe. Apparently, Bad Bert lost it in a card game, and it has been sold several times since then. But she couldn’t see where it is now. We are to come back at midnight, and she will try again.”

  “What if this is a trap?” asked Roxie. “Maybe she read about you in the newspaper. That could be how she knew your name. You’re the only boy anywhere with a mustache. Maybe if we come back tonight, the police will be waiting for us. Or maybe she did see the pipe in her crystal ball and is going to get it for herself this afternoon. And remember, she doesn’t like cats. I could tell. That’s not a good sign. Do you really think we should come back?

  Wobar was troubled by what Roxie said. She could be right. But he couldn’t see what else they could do.

  “We have to take a chance,” said Wobar. “And besides, how could she have known about Simon and Bad Bert? I’m sure she wants to help us. She even gave back my money.”

  Wobar sounded very sure of himself, but inside he was worried. Maybe the gypsy really would steal the pipe for herself, but he hoped not. They would soon find out. At midnight, they would know.

  CHAPTER 32

  X Marks the Spot

  WOBAR AND ROXIE spent the rest of the day wandering around New Orleans. They sat outside the Cafe du Monde and ate sugar-covered beignets, still hot from the fryer. They stood on top of the levee by the Mississippi River and watched a man with a tuba playing jazz and blues all by himself. The music was sad, and it made Wobar feel sorry for the man, so he put a dollar bill in his music case. But time passed slowly for Wobar, and he couldn’t help but worry about their midnight meeting.

  For dinner, Wobar bought fish and chips, plenty for both of them, and they ate it in their hotel room. A storm blew into New Orleans, and the rain beat against the window. The wind howled. At eleven-thirty, they left the room and set off to see Madame Gazonga. By the time they arrived, they were both soaking wet. Wobar was cold and nervous. Roxie shivered.

  Wobar rang the bell. A bolt of lightning struck nearby, and the thunder nearly deafened him. He waited, then rang the bell again. Still nothing. Had he misunderstood when they were to return? He counted to a hundred and rang the bell a third time, then rapped on the door with his knuckles. Finally, the door opened.

  “Come in, Wobar. The time is right.” Madame Gazonga led them inside and motioned for Roxie to stay in the outer room. Roxie looked upset. Wobar bent down and gave her a hug, then followed Madame Gazonga into her parlor. Lightning flashed again, filling the room with light, and then suddenly the room went dark. The lights had been knocked out by the storm. Madame Gazonga lit a candle. Wobar waited quietly as the crystal ball began to glow.

  “Crystal ball of ages old, crystal ball of my mother’s fold, crystal ball who knows all, now is the hour of your strength. Reach out, oh crystal ball, find for me the pipe of silver old.” The room began to brighten. A bluish light came from the ball and flitted around the room. Madame Gazonga frowned and peered intently into the ball.

  “Wobar, you must help me,” she said. “Clear your mind of all thoughts. Think only of the magic pipe. And never move your eyes from the crystal ball. Don’t look at me. No matter what happens.”

  Wobar was just plain scared. What did she mean no matter what happens? But he did what he was told. Images in the crystal ball suddenly came into focus. He saw the magic pipe! Madame Gazonga let out a moan and closed her eyes. Her eyelids began to flutter.

  “Magic pipe, do not resist me. I must find you. By the power of ancient Saul, I command you. SHOW YOURSELF!” Sparks began to leap from the crystal ball. Wobar’s hair stood on end. Just then, a clock struck twelve.

  “I see water . . . a swamp . . . The pipe is being buried . . . I see a map . . . Zut! I can’t read the map . . . It’s too fuzzy, my eyes are too weak . . .”

  Wobar sat on the edge of his chair. He scarcely dared to breathe. He stared at the crystal ball. Slowly, he saw a map coming into focus in front of him.

  “Concentrate, Wobar. Study the map. My poor old eyes are too weak to read it. Hurry. The image won’t last long.”

  Wobar studied the map. He tried his best to memorize all the details. The lights in the crystal ball began to quiver. Then the room was dark again. Only the light of the candles lit the room. The ball went dark.

  “Do you have it, Wobar? Can you draw the map?”

  “I saw it, but I couldn’t understand it very well. There was a swamp and a place where three streams meet. There was an X marked by a large oak tree, near a freshwater spring. But there were no names on the streams. It could have been anywhere. I can draw it, but it could be anywhere.”

  “Three streams,” said Madame Gazonga. “That’s our best clue. There is only one place near New Orleans where three streams meet. It’s near a place they call Teche Baudaire. My daddy used to take us fishing there. I remember a huge oak tree, too. But it was blown down in the hurricane of 1938. But with luck, maybe we can find the stump. We must go there tonight before you forget anything. I sense the time is right. The pipe will be in your hands before dawn.”

  Wobar was tired and wet. The storm was still raging outside, and neither he nor Roxie liked lightning. But Madame Gazonga was right. They had to search for the magic pipe before he forgot the details of the map.

  “I’m ready,” Wobar said. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 33

  To the Swamp

  WOBAR AND ROXIE climbed into Madame Gazonga’s decrepit old car. She had a hard time starting it, but finally the engine caught, and they headed out of town. Rain beat against the windshield, and it was hard to see much of anything. The wipers didn’t work very well. After a while, they turned onto a muddy road, which led into a vast swamp. There were no lights to be seen. They had reached the bayou.

  “It’s been many years since I was last here,” said Madame Gazonga. “I hope I can find my way.” She slowed the car as they passed a side road. “I don’t think it’s that one. That must be a new road, I don’t remember it.”

  For an hour or more, they drove in silence down little dirt roads that crisscrossed the swamp. Several times they came to dead ends and had to turn around. Once they got stuck in the mud, and Wobar had to get out and push. From time to time, Wobar saw the eyes of alligators shining in the swamp as they drove by. Suddenly, Madame Gazonga pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped.

  “This is it. From here on, you will have to go by foot. If my memory serves me well, you’ll find the three streams over there.” She pointed off to the right. “But you will have to find the place yourself. I’m too old to go wandering around in a swamp at night. Besides, I’m afraid of the snakes and alligators that live out there. I’ll wait here for you to return.” With that, she tipped back the car seat and closed her eyes.

  Wobar wasn’t exactly fond of snakes or alligators either. But if they wanted to find the magic pipe, he had no choice. Reluctantly, he and Roxie got out of the car.

  “Look for a stump of the old tree just this side of the place where the three streams meet,” called out Madame Gazonga. “That’s where I remember the big oak.”

  Roxie lead the way through the tall grass. It was very dark, and the rain had not let up at all. Wobar’s shoes squished in the soft mud as he walked along. He wished he were home in a dry bed. He hoped he wouldn’t meet any alligators or poisonous snakes. He thought about turning back and waiting until daylight. But Roxie kept going and didn’t seem afraid, so he followed her. Wobar tried to keep a picture of the map fresh
in his mind. Suddenly, Roxie stopped.

  “Wobar, there’s a stream off to our left. But I smell something fishy, it’s probably an alligator. What should we do?”

  “Yikes!” thought Wobar. He was so nervous his mustache lost its curl. He started to sweat. He had never seen a live alligator, but everything he had ever read about them was unfavorable. An alligator could eat him in a few minutes, or drag him down to its underwater cave to eat later. He wasn’t sure how well they could hear, or how fast they could move. And he didn’t want to find out.

  “Let’s get away from here and fast! Go off toward the right,” Wobar said. “Quietly. Maybe we can sneak by without being heard or seen. We’ll have to avoid the stream for a while.”

  Roxie veered to her right, moving slowly and taking great care to make no sound. Wobar tried to keep his feet from making squishing sounds in the mud, but each step made a noise. Before long, they came to another stream.

  “Let’s follow this one downstream. Hopefully, it will meet the two others,” said Wobar. “I think we’re almost there.”

  It began to rain even harder. Even with his special ability to see in the dark, it was almost impossible for Wobar to see where he was going. Tall grasses kept slapping him in the face. Then he tripped on something and fell. He lay quietly for a minute, all covered with mud, and then suddenly he got very happy.

  “Roxie! Roxie!” he said as loudly as he dared. “Come back. I think I’ve found it. I just tripped on a stump. This should be the stump of the old oak tree that was on the map. Please go see if the streams meet nearby. I’ll wait here.”

  Sure enough, Roxie came back and reported that the three streams came together just ahead. Wobar tried to picture the map. Ten paces from the tree toward the largest stream. Then three paces upstream. Then an X marked the spot near a freshwater spring. That would be, he hoped, where the pipe was buried.