The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles

by Julie Andrews

  They watched as the Whiffle Bird flew straight to them and settled on Tom's shoulder. He patted the beautiful feathers and said, "I knew you'd turn up sooner or later. We're in a terrible fix, Whiffle Bird. We can't find Lindy and we simply must reach her somehow."

  The bird made sympathetic noises and preened herself. At that moment an eerie sound echoed across the plateau.

  It was a dreadful noise; mournful and lonely, a wailing, sobbing cry that moved up and down the scale and went echoing around the mountains.

  "What on earth was that?" Ben spoke in a hushed voice.

  The professor held up a hand. "Listen. There it goes again."

  Tom frowned, then he said tentatively, "I may be imagining things, but I think I hear something else. Another sound underneath. Do you know what I mean, Professor?"

  The professor looked at the boy sharply. "Are you sure, Tom?"

  Tom listened carefully. "Yes, yes. Do you know what it is?" he cried. "It's Lindy. I can hear Lindy singing."

  "Where, Tom? Where is it coming from?"

  The boy strained to pick out the tiny, fragile sound from among the shifting echoes. Then, for a moment, the wailing stopped and in the silence Lindy's voice came through clearly.

  "That way," Tom yelled, pointing. "That's where she is."

  No one was prepared for what happened next.

  The Whiffle Bird suddenly shot up into the air. "MAYDAY!" she shrieked, and then again: "MAYDAY!"

  The professor looked up and saw a huge shadow coming towards them. "Look out!" he cried. Grabbing both boys, he shoved them to safety under the nearest tree. Seconds later a whirling wind, like a hurricane, flattened them all to the ground.

  "What is it? What is it?" gasped Ben in panic. "Gyascutus," coughed the professor as the dust swirled about them.

  The huge shadow passed overhead again and the boys caught a glimpse of a colossal wing with large ragged feathers. Black talons scraped the earth as the monster above them banked to avoid the tree, and the swirling air engulfed them again.

  "Where's the Whiffle Bird?" Tom looked for her anxiously. She squawked indignantly from the branches above his head.

  The professor and the boys waited a full five minutes before coming out from under the tree. To their relief the giant bird was nowhere in sight.

  The professor wiped his brow with his spotted handkerchief. "Good Lord, that was close. We were lucky. Very lucky indeed."

  Ben was badly shaken. "Do you think the Gyascutus saw us?"

  "I doubt it. It would surely have attacked us, for it's a dumb creature that acts first and thinks later. You know, had it wanted to, it could easily have picked up that whole tree."

  Tom said fervently, "Well, I sure hope we don't run into it again."

  The professor scrutinized the sky and the mountains. "I think we're safe now. Let's hurry and get Lindy and ourselves out of this mess."

  He set off in a westerly direction, the boys falling into step beside him. The Whiffle Bird shook herself, then flew ahead as if leading the way.

  The Splintercat had been howling ever since Lindy completed her first song.

  In the beginning he had played the accompaniment for her, overjoyed at the sweet music they were making together. But as the song progressed and Lindy's clear voice sang the melody to perfection, the cat's amber eyes filled with tears. He continued to play, and every once in a while drew a paw across his face and sighed deeply.

  When the song was over he said, with feeling, "Oh, Missss Lindy, you ssssing sssso ssssweetly."

  "Thank you. It's because you play so well," replied Lindy. Seeing that the cat was flattered, she added, "Let's do some more. This is fun."

  The cat took up the accompaniment once again and Lindy put all the expression she could into her voice. The Splintercat began to blink furiously, and suddenly he could control his feelings no longer. He rolled back his head and howled. Lindy quickly realized that the howling was much louder than her voice and would carry twice as far. If the professor and the boys were anywhere in the vicinity, they would certainly hear it. She continued to sing.

  "Oooooooh, Missss Lindy," the cat bawled. "Sssstop. I can't sssstand it. That'ssss so pretty." His back leg drummed the floor in ecstasy and his fluffy tail waved rhythmically back and forth.

  "Please play something else," coaxed Lindy. "I'm having such a good time."

  The Splintercat hiccoughed and wiped his nose. He began to strum another melody, but when Lindy joined in, the strain became too great and he broke down completely.

  "Sssstop. Sssstop. Sssstop. Sssstop," he sobbed, and rolled on the floor, covering his head with his paws.

  Lindy took a deep breath and wondered how much longer she could keep this up. She almost choked with surprise as the professor's head came into view over the threshold. He cautiously peered into the room, saw her and put a finger to his lips, then ducked out of sight.

  The professor ran back to the bushes where the boys were hiding.

  "She's in there, all right," he puffed excitedly. "Now the question is, how are we going to get her out?"

  He had no sooner uttered the words than the Whiffle Bird, who had been sitting quietly in a nearby tree, flew to the ground, landing a foot or so from the Splintercat's pad. She squawked horribly and lay very still.

  "What's the matter with her?" Tom asked anxiously.

  "Hush," said the professor sharply.

  The howling of the Splintercat had stopped. In the silence, the Whiffle Bird squawked again, as if in great pain.

  The Splintercat's startled head popped through the strands of wool, his amber eyes red with emotion and tears. The cat looked around quickly and saw the apparently helpless Whiffle Bird lying on the ground. His ears pricked up, his eyes opened wide and then became gleaming, calculating slits. He disappeared.

  "Professor," whispered Tom, "we've got to do something. The Whiffle Bird's in trouble."

  "Wait, Tom. Wait." The professor laid a restraining hand on Tom's arm.

  The Splintercat came out of his house, his belly pressed flat to the tree. The Whiffle Bird fluttered in panic and rolled a few feet away. She began to emit a series of agonized squeaks and gasps.

  The Splintercat eased his way down the tree, ears flattened, a wicked grin on his face. Then, he pulled himself forward, one paw at a time, until he was within a few feet of the Whiffle Bird.

  Ben held his breath. Tom, horror-stricken, tugged at the professor's sleeve, but the professor again signaled for the boy to wait.

  The Splintercat's body tensed and his high behind began to move from side to side. With a mighty leap he sprang for the Whiffle Bird.

  She rocketed into the air, evading the grasping claws by mere inches. Beautiful feathers flew in all directions. She landed a little way from the cat and dragged herself along the ground.

  The cat looked surprised and pounced again. Once more the Whiffle Bird took to the air. She flapped around and around in low circles and the cat's head twisted wildly, his neck a veritable corkscrew.

  The professor took a small penknife out of his pocket. "I'm going to get Lindy. Wait for me here and don't move."

  The Splintercat had been lured a considerable distance from the tree. The professor waited until the cat had his back to him and then, quickly and silently, he ran to the ladder and climbed up.

  Lindy was overwhelmed with relief when she saw him. The professor quickly cut her loose. "Stay close to me and when I tell you, run as fast as you can."

  As the professor and Lindy climbed down the ladder, they glimpsed the Splintercat thrashing wildly in the air and the Whiffle Bird spinning and rolling and tumbling in all directions.

  While the cat struggled to recover both balance and senses, Lindy and the professor ran to the bushes where the boys were hiding. The children embraced each other silently.

  "Now what do we do?" whispered Ben.

  "We wait to see if the Whiffle Bird is going to be all right and then we get out of here."

  By some
miracle the Whiffle Bird had evaded all attempts at capture. The cat, obsessed with the desire to catch this annoying and elusive bird, made a last flying leap, jaws snapping, teeth tearing, yowling, snarling, and slashing the air with his claws.

  The Whiffle Bird shot up into the air and shrieked, "GET TO THE POINT!"

  The Splintercat crashed to the ground.

  "Get to the point . . . the point . . . the point." The professor looked around in desperation. "That's where she means! That point up there!" He indicated a needle-sharp rock at the top of the hill. "Run, children, run for your lives!"

  He grabbed Lindy's hand and began the steep ascent, scrambling over rocks and stones. The boys followed. The Whiffle Bird flew above them and shrieked again, "GET TO THE POINT!"

  Dazed and completely frustrated, the Splintercat picked himself up and looked around. As his vision cleared, he saw the children and the professor. With a demented howl he streaked towards them, legs churning, his powerful high behind propelling him up the hill in giant leaps and bounds.

  "He's gaining on us!" gasped Tom.

  "Don't look back!" the professor yelled. He put on a burst of speed and Lindy, who still clung to his hand, felt herself momentarily lifted off the ground.

  They were almost at the top of the hill, but the Splintercat was horribly close. Ben felt the ground shaking and he heard the cat panting behind him with murderous fury.

  With a last mighty effort the creature sprang.

  "Got you! Got you! Got you!" he roared triumphantly, his huge paws spread wide, the wicked-looking claws flashing like steel knives in the sun.

  The professor grasped the narrow rock and swung around it, pressing himself and Lindy flat against the rough stone. The boys flung themselves to the ground, and the cat sailed over their heads, a crazed, fearful look on his face.

  "Whoa . . . oh . . . ow . . . eeeow!" he shrieked, his back legs trying desperately to brake his tremendous speed. But it was too late.

  On the other side of the rock the hill fell away sharply and the Splintercat sailed over the edge, and landed on the steep incline. His long back legs pushed him forwards and upwards and over and he rolled and bumped and crashed from side to side, trying desperately to gain a foothold. Great furrows of earth appeared as he dug in his heels. Billowing clouds of dust rose behind him as he plunged, howling at the top of his lungs, all the way down. At the bottom of the hill, he tumbled into a field of bright mustard-yellow flowers, and completely disappeared.

  The professor began to chuckle. Relief and exhaustion flooded over him.

  "It's a well-known fact," he explained, "that Splintercats, with their high behinds, are very good at climbing up hills, but they're very bad at going down. Good old Whiffle Bird. She knew what she was doing when she told us to get to the point."

  "I can't help feeling sorry for the Splintercat," said Lindy.

  "Don't, my dear. If I'm not mistaken, our furry friend just landed in a field of catnip. He should be ecstatic for quite some time."

  "What's ecstatic?" she asked.

  Suddenly, with a squeal of happiness, the Splintercat exploded out of the flowers. He did a double somersault, and landed in the blossoms again. His head popped up with one of the blooms clamped idiotically between his teeth. There was an intoxicated, happy grin on his face and he began to leap about as if dizzy and delirious.

  "Oooo . . . wheeee!"

  The children and the professor watched as he yelped and bounced.

  "Sssstop. Sssstop it, I like it!" He rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air.

  "Oh . . . ha . . . ha! Ssssweet, ssssibilant Ssssplintercats!" He howled with laughter as though he were being tickled unmercifully.

  The children began to giggle as well.

  "Help! Help! I love it. I love it. I love it," they heard the cat mumble passionately, and he went tearing off around the field, tumbling and turning, sniffling and sneezing, twittering and fluttering in an absolute dither of delight.

  "That, Lindy," said the professor, "is a perfect example of the word 'ecstatic.' "

  PART THREE

  Conquest

  ONE

  The professor and the children discovered that the other side of the mountain descended in a series of gentle, rolling hills. Streams and waterfalls poured forth, splashing, leaping, and gurgling down the slopes to join the Golden River. The grass was lush and thick, of a sparkling aquamarine blue.

  Ben noticed a mass of plum-colored trees in the distance. "What are they?" He pointed.

  "I'm not sure," replied the professor. "But if my sense of direction is right, that's the Forest of the Tree Squeaks. I would say that right now, we are in the heart of Whangdoodleland."

  The Whiffle Bird flew around them and landed in a tree. She fluffed out her beautiful feathers. "EASY DOES IT," she said.

  The professor looked around. "Let's take the Whiffle Bird's advice. This seems a good place to rest for a while. There's lots of shade and I don't think we'll be spotted here."

  "You know, I'm hungry," said Lindy. "I haven't had anything to eat for ages."

  "Yeah, I'm starved," said Tom.

  The professor reached into the low branches of a strange-looking tree. "That's easily put right." He pulled down a soft fruit that resembled a large maroon pineapple.

  Lindy bit into it. "That's fabulous. What kind of tree is that?"

  "It's a Fruit-of-the-Month Tree," replied the professor.

  "You mean each month it grows a different kind of fruit?" asked Tom.

  "My first trip to Whangdoodleland the trees were growing Tangerangos. A few months ago it was Passionanas." The professor plucked one for himself and took a bite. "Mm. This month it's Razzapple. Have some," he said to the boys. "It'll do you good."

  They ate their fill of the delicious fruit, then relaxed in the shade of the tree.

  The professor said, "You know, I've been thinking. It might be wise to stay here for the night. It's getting dark, and it will be difficult finding our way back."

  The children loved the idea of camping out in Whangdoodleland. The boys rolled up their jackets and used them for pillows. Lindy covered herself with her cape and rested her head in the professor's lap.

  They watched a pale, translucent moon rise in an emerald green sky, while brilliant stars sparkled overhead. The Whangdoodle's palace gleamed in the night like a huge chandelier.

  Lindy said wistfully, "I wish we were up there looking down here, instead of the other way around."

  "So do I, Lindy. Oh, so do I." The professor's voice was full of longing.

  Ben pushed himself up on an elbow. "Professor, how close have you come to seeing the Whangdoodle? I mean before you met us?"

  The professor reflected for a moment. "I only came close enough to know that he was there, Ben. Of course, I talked to the Prock a lot and I met our good friend the Whiffle Bird." He looked at her perched in the tree close to Tom. She appeared to be fast asleep, although it was hard to tell.

  "I never really got much beyond the Gambit region," he continued. "I discovered that it wasn't possible for me to reach the Whangdoodle by myself. I needed youthful minds to help me." He smiled. "That's why I was so thrilled when you came to my door at Halloween, for I had almost given up hope."

  "It was kind of a miracle, wasn't it?" said Lindy sleepily.

  "Well, I'd call it more of an opportunity," said the professor. "Miracles, contrary to popular belief, do not just happen. A miracle is the achievement of the impossible, and it is only when we put aside our greed, anger, pride and prejudice so that our minds are open and ready to accept it, that a miracle can occur. The Whangdoodle managed to think and do the right things, and look at the miracle he brought about for himself and his friends."

  "He surely must have tried hard," said Tom thoughtfully. "Do you suppose we will ever get to meet him?"

  "If you want to badly enough, the chances are it will happen. Actually, I've been doing some thinking. Since we've come this far, how would you feel about m
aking one last all-out attempt to reach the Whangdoodle? If we are careful and lucky we might reach the palace before the Prock has any idea we are in the vicinity."

  "How do you know the Whangdoodle will let us in even if we do reach the palace?" asked Ben.

  "I don't. But I have a feeling the closer we are able to get, the more regard he will have for our determination."

  "Let's do it," said Tom enthusiastically. "We haven't got that much farther to go, have we?"

  "I don't believe so."

  "Please, Professor," said Ben, "let's give it one more try."

  Lindy was nearly asleep, but she managed to murmur, "Yes, please."

  The professor smiled and opened his plastic umbrella with the yellow butterflies. "I guess it's settled then. Tomorrow we'll make an early start. I suggest we get some rest now." He pushed the umbrella handle into the soft earth and it made a perfect shelter from the gentle night breeze that was blowing across the hills.

  He stroked Lindy's hair and talked quietly in the darkness, about the stars and constellations. He told them about the furry little creatures called Flukes, and how, when the Whangdoodle first left the human world, they had hidden away in a pair of his old slippers. When they were finally discovered, it was too late to send them back.

  Lulled by his soft voice, the children pulled their scrappy caps down over their eyes and fell into an easy and comfortable sleep.

  The professor woke them early. It was barely light and the sun had yet to show itself. Pockets of mist lay among the vivid blue hills.

  He said quietly, "It is imperative that we get through the Forest of the Tree Squeaks before they wake up. If they see us they'll warn the Prock. Let's go, keep very quiet."

  He led the way down the hill and the Whiffle Bird flew onto Tom's shoulder.

  "Professor," whispered Ben. "There's a road just over there."

  The professor nodded. "Probably the main highway. What a bit of luck!"

  The sky was beginning to redden. The professor quickened his pace. They reached the road and discovered that it was made of shell-pink flowers, clustered so tightly together that they were like a carpet. A signpost stood on a grassy bank. One arm pointed to the trees and read, To the Forest of the Tree Squeaks. Another arm below it pointed in the same direction. It read, To the Palace.