The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles

by Julie Andrews

  They came to the bottom of a big mountain. "Hold on tight now," said the Splintercat and he began to climb. Surefootedly he moved up the almost vertical face of the rock.

  "This is where my long back legssss become very usssseful," he said. "They make going up mountains sssso easy."

  Lindy shuddered to think of what would happen if she fell off the Splintercat's back. She took a firmer grip on his tail and told herself not to be afraid.

  They reached a wide plateau. There were boulders and rocks lying as if a giant hand had scattered them about the landscape. There were trees, too: short scrubby ones that were shiny black like patent leather, and larger ones with generous branches and bright melon-yellow leaves in clusters.

  "Now, are you rrrready for a ssssurprise?" said the Splintercat, lowering Lindy gently to the ground. She followed the cat into a small grove where he pointed and said proudly, "There it is. Home ssssweet home."

  Lindy saw a big lollipop-shaped structure, which looked as if it were made of something soft and furry. At a second glance she saw that it was a tree which was completely covered with colored yarn, laced and interlaced in such a way that the structure was strong and durable.

  "Come and ssssee insssside," purred the Splinter-cat. He sprang across the clearing and leaped into the tree, disappearing from view.

  "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me," cried Lindy.

  "Jusssst a minute. Jusssst a minute." The cat's head appeared through the skeins of wool and grinned at her. Then he withdrew and reappeared higher up, eyes shining mischievously. "I'm ssssending down some sssstairs."

  A rope ladder tumbled out of the tree. It swung invitingly beside her.

  "Come on up," called the cat. Lindy placed a foot carefully on the first rung and climbed until she found herself in an amazing and ingeniously built room.

  It was like the inside of a cocoon. The floor, walls and ceiling were a continuous curve of geometrically woven yarn in rainbow colors. Yellow leaves in the tree pushed through the weaving and the room looked as if it were sprigged with flowers. The bottom of the cocoon was low-slung, like a hammock, and it held a large, luxurious pillow. It was easily as big as a bed and it was made of silk and satin patchwork squares. It had a beautiful orange tassel at each corner.

  "Come and ssssit by me." The Splintercat padded into the middle of the bed and settled down. "Mm. It'ssss good to be home."

  He held out a large box of delicious-looking candies. "Have some wodge."

  Lindy was very hungry. She gratefully took one of the candies. It tasted of marzipan and honey and sweet caraway seeds. "What are these? They're terrific," she said, taking another one.

  "They are the Whangdoodle's favorite food," grinned the Splintercat. "He has a very ssssweet tooth, you know."

  Lindy ate six more pieces of candy and felt a lot better.

  "Well, how do you like my pad?" The cat gazed at her and his tail brushed softly across her forehead.

  She blinked sleepily. Her eyelids felt heavy. "I think," she said, yawning, "that it's the loveliest . . . and the most beautiful place . . . that I have ever seen."

  A great drowsiness overcame her. She lay back and gazed up at the domed ceiling where patches of persimmon-colored sky showed through the latticework of wool. The sun shone onto the yellow leaves and they caught the light and sent reflections dancing around the room. A breeze stirred the tree. Lindy felt herself being rocked. She slipped down, down, down, into the warmth and luxury of welcome sleep.

  SEVEN

  The professor and the boys were standing in the middle of the Blandlands plain. The waving sea of brightly colored flowers stretched ahead for miles and miles. In the distance the Whangdoodle's palace sparkled in the early-morning sunlight.

  The professor leaned on his umbrella and said, "Now this is the way I see it. The Prock said the High-Behind Splintercat took Lindy away. What would he do with her? Where would he put her for safety? He wouldn't take her to the palace because the whole point is to keep us away from the palace. My hunch is—Lindy is still with the Splintercat."

  "But how do we find the Splintercat?" asked Ben.

  "I only know he lives in the mountains," replied the professor, "but it could be those mountains, or those mountains, or those." He pointed north, east and west.

  Ben's heart sank. "Oh, gosh. She could be anywhere. It's going to take ages to find her."

  "Perhaps not. Let's use our heads and work this out. The Splintercat is probably just like any other mountain cat. He would need a rocky terrain, with trees—perhaps a cave or two. Those mountains to the west have a forest, but it looks a bit dense. Too dark and gloomy for a Splintercat."

  "Those mountains are open and grassy," said Ben, pointing north.

  "Right. So I'll bet that the Splintercat's lair is in the east, somewhere beyond Ploy. Probably in the Gambit region. That's perfect cat territory. Come on, boys. We've got a long way to go!"

  They walked for what seemed like hours. They grew hot and thirsty and it was a relief to hear a soft singing sound that told them they were near a stretch of the Golden River. The boys ran to it and drank their fill of the cool refreshing water.

  "Can you two swim?" the professor asked suddenly. "It occurs to me that we could reach the mountains faster if we crossed the river."

  "Let's do it," said Ben enthusiastically.

  They took off their clothes and rolled them with their shoes into tight bundles. They waded into the water and swam slowly across the river, holding the bundles above their heads. It was a fascinating swim. At every stroke, the water changed its tune, making sweet music.

  Once on the other side, they dressed hurriedly. Tom looked around. "You know, it's odd that the Whiffle Bird hasn't turned up."

  "It is odd," agreed the professor. "Of course, she may be watching out for Lindy."

  "She may not know we're here yet," suggested Ben.

  "Well, I sort of miss her company," declared Tom. "Even though she's a nuisance sometimes, it's nice having her around."

  Ben noticed a movement off to his left. He pointed and whispered, "I thought I saw something."

  They crouched on the ground and remained absolutely still. A group of fierce-looking creatures emerged from a break in the rocks and moved slowly in a line towards the Golden River. They were at least six or seven feet high at the shoulder, with shaggy, caramel-colored fur and enormous, curling, sharp-pointed horns.

  "What are they?" gasped Thomas.

  "That's a herd of Flummox." The professor's face was alight with excitement. "They're distant relatives of the great aurochs that roamed Europe thousands of years ago. We'd better give them a wide berth. They could be dangerous."

  When they finally reached the foot of the mountains, they were travel-stained and weary.

  Tom, trailing a few paces behind the others, noticed something small and shiny lying against a stone. "Professor!" he cried excitedly.

  The professor whirled in alarm. "Hush, Tom."

  "Look. Look what I found."

  The professor examined the shining object. "Why, it's a twenty-five-cent piece."

  "It's the one I gave Lindy. I know it is. She said she would keep it in her pocket as a lucky piece. She must have dropped it, don't you see?"

  The professor was excited, too. "This proves we're on the right track. Lindy passed this way. What a stroke of luck."

  "Professor, look at this!" cried Ben and he knelt down to look closely at the ground. "It's a paw print. A really large one."

  "It's the Splintercat's, all right," confirmed the professor. He looked up and scanned the mountain towering above them. "See that plateau? I'll bet you anything that's where he went."

  "How are we going to get up there?" asked Ben. "There must be a way up somehow. Come on." At that moment a great shriek rent the air. It was so loud and so close that the professor and the boys practically jumped out of their skins. Terrified, they flung themselves to the ground.

  Tom found his voice. "What do you suppo
se it is?"

  "Whatever it is, it's pretty big," whispered the professor. "Let's be careful."

  They crawled forward. A faint mist hung just above their heads and there was a damp feeling to the air. They became aware of a heavy panting sound. Cautiously they peered around a high wall of rock, and there standing at the foot of the mountain, enveloped in clouds of steam, was the most remarkable train they had ever seen.

  It was pure white and gave the impression of being made from thick, fluffy cotton wool. Yet, the rods and wheels and couplings and the great engine itself looked strong and shone like polished steel. Written on the side of it in bold letters were the words THE BRAINSTRAIN.

  The professor was staggered. "I expected wonders in this incredible land, but I never thought I'd see anything as wonderful as that." He looked at the mountain. Silver rails went straight up the sheer rock face and disappeared into the clouds.

  "If I'm not mistaken," he said, "that train goes right to the top. That, my friends, is how we're going to reach Lindy and the Splintercat."

  "But what makes the train go?" queried Ben. "I don't see an engineer. I don't see anybody."

  The professor scrutinized the train intently. He mumbled to himself, "Steam—hot air—brainstrain." His face suddenly brightened. "Got it!" he said triumphantly. "That thing is full of hot air. Hot air rises. That's how it goes up the mountain. That's why it doesn't need an engineer."

  "How does it get down the mountain again?" asked Tom.

  "I have absolutely no idea. But come on. We've got to board that train."

  They started around the wall but the professor suddenly grabbed the boys and pulled them back. "Look out," he whispered tensely. "Sidewinders."

  Three of the horrifying creatures were emerging from the trees. They were deep in conversation. Their trunks waved in the air and their feet crunched the gravel path as they made for the train.

  The Brainstrain gave another shriek and began to puff and blow mightily. Clouds of steam belched out of the engine and rolled towards the professor and the boys.

  "Let's go," said the professor urgently and he began to run.

  Under the protective cover of billowing steam the boys made a dash for it. The train was beginning to move. Ben was the fastest and he was the first to gain a foothold on the steps of the moving caboose. He turned in time to see the professor reach out and hook his umbrella onto the railing to pull himself aboard.

  Tom was in the rear and to everyone's horror he suddenly stumbled and fell. The train was gathering speed and the boy's face took on a look of panic as he saw it pulling away from him.

  "Come on, Tom! Come on!" the professor cried.

  Tom scrambled to his feet and ran as hard as he had ever run in his whole life. His legs began to ache and a desperate sob caught in his throat.

  The professor leaned out as far as he could. He handed one end of his umbrella to Tom. The boy grasped it tightly. The professor yanked hard and Tom, stumbling and lurching, was hauled aboard the train, where he lay panting and gasping with relief.

  The professor pulled him to his feet. "Hold on, Tom. We're climbing fast." The boys gripped the railings and gave the professor a weak grin of thanks.

  The Brainstrain heaved and puffed its way up the face of the mountain. Higher and higher it climbed. They were nearing the plateau. Over the noise of the engine the professor shouted, "It isn't going to stop. We'll have to jump."

  Suddenly, the train leveled off and began to gather speed at an alarming rate.

  "Now!" yelled the professor and the three of them leaped from the speeding train.

  They hit the earth hard, rolling over and over, tumbling and bouncing. Tom was flung into a bush and the professor disappeared.

  Ben staggered to his feet, weaving unsteadily towards his brother. "You okay?" he gasped.

  Tom nodded. "Where's the professor?"

  "Here," came a faint reply. "Over the edge."

  They rushed to the precipice. The professor's umbrella had caught on a root and he was hanging on to it for dear life and swaying gently out over the void.

  The boys leaned over and grabbed him. Ben clasped his wrist and Tom caught hold of his collar. With a mighty heave they pulled him to safety.

  He was deathly white and lay for several moments face down in the grass. Presently, he rolled over and gazed up at the sky. Then he looked at the boys. "Thank you both," he said simply. "That was a close call."

  He sat up and looked at the mountain where, high above, The Brainstrain came to a halt. The Sidewinders got out. Then a remarkable thing happened. The train slowly vanished before their eyes.

  "Good Lord!" The professor shook his head in disbelief. "That answers your question, Tom. The Brainstrain doesn't have to get down the mountain. It dissipates at the top."

  "How could it do that?" asked Ben.

  "Like any hot air that rises—it just dissipates. That accounts for all the clouds up there. I presume the train reassembles itself at the bottom of the mountain and when it has gathered enough hot air, it moves up once again. Fantastic."

  Tom and Ben helped him to his feet. They could see that the adventure had been quite a strain for, their friend. He looked pale and not very steady. But he gazed around with interest and said, brightly enough, "Well, I wonder where we go from here."

  EIGHT

  When Lindy woke up, she found the Splintercat sitting beside her, washing himself.

  "Goodness," she said. "Did I sleep for very long?"

  "Not too long," replied the cat, licking his paw. "How do you feel, Missss Lindy?"

  "I feel fine. But I think I ought to be getting home.

  My brothers might find out that I'm gone and be worried."

  The cat sprang up. "Ah. Missss Lindy. I have a trrrremendous favor to assssk you. I wonder if you would help me with thissss." He produced a large ball of wool. "Everrrry friend that comes to visit makes a cat's crrrradle with me. I add it to my house. It'ssss like ssssigning my guesssst book."

  Lindy frowned. "All right. But please let's hurry." She was beginning to feel a little annoyed. "What do I have to do?"

  The Splintercat worked the wool quickly between his paws until it made a pattern of crossed threads.

  "Now, Missss Lindy, use the finger and thumb of each hand and pick up the wool in the middle."

  Lindy did as she was told and the cat transferred the threads to her hands.

  "Purrfect," breathed the Splintercat. He lifted a paw to take up the wool again. Somehow, the threads slipped and Lindy found her hands bound by the brightly colored strands.

  "Oh dear." The cat blinked in alarm. "It sssslipped out of my grassssp. Hold on, dear frrrriend, let me unwind you."

  He turned Lindy around. "I think the wool goessss under here, and thrrrrough here."

  Lindy began to feel dizzy, for the cat passed the ball of wool under her arms and around her waist and then over her hands so quickly that she hadn't time to follow his movements.

  The results were disastrous, for by the time the cat had finished she was so tangled up in the wool that she couldn't move.

  'What have you done?" she said in an angry voice. "I told you I wanted to go home. It's terribly late and you promised we would be back in an hour."

  'Well, well, well. How goes it?" said a familiar voice and Lindy felt a chill run up her spine.

  The Prock's tall frame filled the doorway.

  The Splintercat cast a quick look towards Lindy. "Good heavens, Splintercat, what have you been up to?" The Prock began to laugh.

  The cat chuckled.

  Lindy had seen and heard enough to know that she was in terrible trouble.

  She glared at the Prock. "I know what you're doing," she said, trying desperately not to cry. "You just stop all this and let me go home. The professor is going to be furious with you when he finds out."

  "He already knows, my dear," the Prock replied casually "And I've told him that if he wants you back, then he must stop trying to reach the Whangdoodle. If
he agrees, you may go home at once."

  "What if he doesn't agree?"

  "Well, that's a problem we'll just have to face when the time comes." He turned to the Splintercat. "Keep her here. I'll be in touch. I've got to push on to the palace."

  "Is the Whangdoodle very upsssset?" the Splintercat asked.

  "He's beside himself," replied the Prock. "He believes this is all my fault and he's keeping me twice as busy just because he's cross."

  The cat shook his head sympathetically. "Don't worry, Prrrrock. It'll be over ssssoon."

  "Yes. Thank goodness." The Prock raised a hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Miss Lindy. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I have no alternative."

  Lindy turned her head away and didn't answer. When she looked back again, the Prock had gone.

  The Splintercat stretched and yawned. "Oh, my! It'ssss going to be a long day. How about some wodge, Missss Lindy?"

  "Don't you talk to me," she snapped. "You false friend. If I had my way, you'd lose all the rest of your eight lives—right now."

  The Splintercat winced, but he said simply, "Jusst as you pleasssse."

  He stretched back on the pillow and idly stroked the geometric pieces of wool above his head. Rippling notes of music came from the taut strings, and Lindy watched with surprise as the Splintercat played on the wall of his house as though it were a harp.

  Her thoughts turned to the professor and Thomas and Benjamin. She knew how worried they must be. What would the professor do in a situation like this? Would he give in to the Prock? Or would he try to rescue her? Lindy thought that the boys would encourage such a move. But if they did try to find her, how would they know where she was?

  Suddenly she had an idea. It wasn't a very good one, but it was the best she could come up with.

  She began to sing a song to the Splintercat's music. The creature looked startled. But he smiled happily and, to Lindy's great relief, continued to play.

  Ben, Tom and the professor had been searching for hours but there was still no sign of Lindy. Suddenly Tom noticed something on the horizon. He studied it for a moment, then he shouted, "Professor, look! It's the Whiffle Bird."