The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass
Faith Lynella
The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass
Faith Lynella (1944)
Also published as Dr. Lynella Grant and Lynella Faith Grant
Book 1 of The Binkle and Magic series
Digital versions - Copyright © Off the Page Press, 2012
ISBN-13: 978-188739602 ISBN-10 1-888739-63-0
Soft-cover version, © 2008
ISBN-13: 978-1888739633 ISBN-10 1888739630
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. Reviewers may quote brief passages to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the World Wide Web.
Publisher: Waltzing Words, an imprint of Off the Page Press
100 Conway Street
Greenfield, MA 01301
(719) 359-5575
“Binkle” is a registered trademark and copyright belonging to The Binkle Foundation, Lynella Grant, and Off the Page Press
Website: http://www.catawampuscompass.com
Contents
Before You Start
Chapter 1 ~ Over the Edge...
Chapter 2 ~ It Was a Cold and Windy Night
Chapter 3 ~ Life Beneath the Oak Trees
Chapter 4 ~ Time Stands Still for a While
Chapter 5 ~ Inside the Chamber of Ancient Wisdom
Chapter 6 ~ Jeep Discovers You Can Go Home Again
Chapter 7 ~ Ask Not for Whom the Bully Waits
Chapter 8 ~ Laughter at the Zoo
Chapter 9 ~ The Return to Grikkl’s World
Chapter 10 ~ Beware the Face of Evil
Chapter 11 ~ Sealing the Rift
Chapter 12 ~ The Disturbing Visit to Elkhorn
Chapter 13 ~ High-Stakes Negotiations
Chapter 14 ~ The Truffle Disaster
Chapter 15 ~ Detective Work at Elkhorn
Chapter 16 ~ The Daring Rescue Attempt
Chapter 17 ~ The Truffle Secret Revealed
Chapter 18 ~ A Magical Tea Party
End
Dedication
TO EVERY LIBRARIAN
who ever encouraged a child to fall in love with reading
TO THE POWER OF THE BINKLE
May binkle power brighten the lives and deeds of everyone who knows about them
TO YOU, THE READER
I hereby bestow a bucket of binkles upon you and all you love
BEFORE YOU START—
A puzzle for you to solve
Jeep, the main character, likes to read whenever he gets a chance. Because he loves reading so much, he notices when what happens to him resembles adventures or characters from favorite stories.
“Allusions” is a big word meaning that one thing refers to something different. Like saying “a person’s nose is growing” could indicate lying or Pinocchio. Or saying “The sky is falling” refers to Chicken Little.
Throughout the book, Jeep makes allusions to well-known books or characters he’s read about. See if you can spot some of them. Think of finding allusions like an Easter egg hunt.
At the back of the book you’ll find a list of allusions. But it is not complete. I’m sure you’ve found others that I missed. Looking for allusions as you read makes it more interesting—like a treasure hunt. It helps you spot connections beyond the words.
Watch for allusions in life too. As a reader, you’ll see them everywhere!
Chapter 1—
OVER THE EDGE
WHAM!
CRASH!
SMASH! The sound was followed by the scraping of loose rocks, which picked up speed as they tumbled downward.
“Uggg... Aaaggggggg...” was accompanied by more crashing and scraping noises... Punctuated more than once by the splintering of branches. Then more falling rocks and tree limbs clattering to the bottom.
THUD! OOMP! “Urrrrrrgg...” was followed by indistinct crashing, breaking branches and scraping pebbles... The hubbub echoed from all directions.
SLAM! Then total silence—except for the pebbles that continued to rain down on the fallen body.
The whole unsavory incident happened quickly. In no more than half a minute it was over. (Though the flattened tumbler probably felt as though the fall was going on forever.) Not that you could ask him—he was dead to the world.
~~~
Rolling the scene backwards: one moment the soon-to-be-flattened person was balanced much too precariously on the unstable edge of a steep cliff. The next moment he lost his teetering balance. His efforts to snatch a branch and save himself only hastened the inevitable. Then the ill-fated fellow’s inert body rolled, bounced, and bumped against a blur of branches as it plummeted to the earth below.
It slammed into every rock or tree big enough to have broken the fall. None of them did. Somewhere on his tumble he got himself knocked out cold.
~~~
Somewhat later, that unfortunate pile of flesh woke up in a thorny thicket in the dark of night. His first thought was “Owwwww!” That was his second and third thoughts, as well. In fact, that very thought wasn’t far from his mind for days.
The banged-up body hurt in places the guy never had reason to notice before. And his spinning head was in no condition to sort out much of anything. He was pitiful—pure and simple.
The battered body belonged to Jeep. And his head-over-heels fall was courtesy of his dog, MeToo. Him and the darned truffles.
Every day after school (where he was in the sixth grade), Jeep “worked” in the large park not far from where he lived. His job was to grow truffles—a fancy type of mushroom. To this day, no one in the world understands how to cultivate truffles successfully. But his stepfather, Chris, expected to get rich from figuring out exactly how it could be done. Chris had been chasing that dream for years—long before he married Jeep’s mother.
To make Jeep’s job harder, he had to carry out his “farming” in secret—like in a spy movie. Nobody who came to the park gave Jeep a second look—just the way he wanted it. The boy looked ordinary in every way—from his short, curly brown hair, to his downcast eyes, to his ability to fade unnoticed into the background. Nothing about him stood out, making him as good as invisible.
Chris repeatedly warned him to be carefully about being found out. “Secrecy is essential! If anyone finds out we’re actually growing truffles... Well, let’s just say lots of greedy people would stop at nothing to find out what we know.”
Jeep could only look after his truffle patches when the coast was clear. Playing with MeToo provided a good cover. Other times he leaned against a tree, reading some adventure book he always carried along with him. People in the park assumed he was just fooling around—but in truth he was tending to his chores.
At the start of their farming activities, Jeep couldn’t figure out why Chris made so much fuss over truffles. They sure didn’t look like much. The blackish, knobby, mushroom-like fungus grows wild on the roots of oak trees. Specially trained pigs or dogs sniff them out under the ground, so their keepers can carefully dig up the valuable truffles before they can gobble them up.
Chris explained that the truffles’ musky smell drives people mad with romantic desire. Gourmet chefs can’t get enough of them for their la-de-da cooking. And since they aren’t raised like other crops, truffles are rare and ridiculously expensive (even hundreds of dollars a pound!).
Their “farm” was spread all around the park, wherever
the full-grown oaks grew. Mostly in out-of-the-way spots. Nobody else had a clue what they were up to. Jeep relied on his compass and his hand-drawn maps to keep track of their underground patches. Many of them were in place for years—with not much to show for it. So far, anyway.
Chris and Jeep often labored late at night in the corner of the basement they grandly called “the laboratory.” Using an old microscope and simple lab tests, they compared countless combinations of soil, fertilizer, and spores (tiny truffle seeds no bigger than dust), as they tried to figure out which worked the best.
It was up to Jeep to keep precise records of all the growth data they collected. So he regularly checked the patches for signs of growth. As with most scientific discoveries, lots of tedious work must happen before discovering just the right “lucky” combination.
Whenever Jeep grumbled about doing so much boring work, Chris would say, “We’re getting nearer all the time. We’ve got to be close to success, we’ve just got to¼”
Still, Jeep wondered, If we’re so close why aren’t we seeing more truffles? But he was smart enough to keep such doubts to himself.
Between school, his truffle duties, homework, and so many chores around the house, Jeep hardly found a moment when he could read what he wanted. Yet the drearier his life, the more he counted on adventure stories to transport him to distant places and happier times—where heroes triumphed and magic was real.
~~~
It was already late afternoon when his dog approached him with what appeared to be a large truffle in his mouth.
“Hmmm... Where’d you find that, MeToo?” As Jeep reached for what he was clutching in his jaws, the dog pulled way.
“Hey! Give!” The dog scampered away, leaving Jeep no choice but to follow.
MeToo never looked back or slowed down until he reached a cluster of trees shrouded in shadows. The dog stopped suddenly at the edge of a steep drop-off. Jeep found himself in a gloomy and overgrown place that was totally unfamiliar. A clump of tangled oak roots dangled over the edge.
I don’t remember this place, and I was sure I knew every bit of the park by heart. He pulled out his ever-handy compass, trying to figure out their location. No dice, he couldn’t get an accurate reading.
“OK, MeToo, let’s have it.” Jeep bent down and patted MeToo as he reached for the truffle. The dog backed away—to the very edge of the overhang.
Jeep smiled his annoyed-but-patient, while reaching again for the truffle yet again. His voice was quiet and slow to calm the excited dog. “C’mon. Good dog! Where’d you find that?”
Expecting to get a hug along with the praise, MeToo eagerly sprang against Jeep’s outstretched right hand. The jolt knocked the compass out of his left hand. Jeep could hear it clatter down the steep incline, gathering speed as it went.
As he looked over the edge, Jeep couldn’t tell where it landed in the hazy shadows. Phooey! No way I’m leaving that here. Gotta climb down. There’s probably still enough light¼
Jeep spoke as sternly as he knew how to MeToo. “Sit! Wait here! You hear?” The dog wasn’t known for obedience—quite the opposite.
MeToo sat. But his tail end wagged around so hard, it couldn’t be described as sitting still. Jeep turned his back to the dog, hoping the sternness of his voice would restrain MeToo’s urge to follow.
“Stay MeToo! Don’t follow me,” he repeated.
With his first footstep down, Jeep knew it would be slow going. Between the steepness and deepening shadows, he couldn’t see even one step ahead. He needed to place each foot with care and could feel the unstable dirt shifting underfoot. More than once, loose rocks slid ahead of him and descended into the gloom.
Then several rocks from higher up hit him. “Oh no,” Jeep mumbled, as he glanced up quickly enough to see MeToo’s front paws anchored just over the edge of the cliff. The dog’s wide eyes were fixed on his master.
“Stop! Don’t move!”
The disobedient (and seemingly deaf) dog kept thrusting his legs forward, sending down more pebbles. A clump of dirt dislodged, slid forward, and ruined Jeep’s shaky balance. MeToo’s large, unblinking eyes were the last thing Jeep saw before he plunged downward.
~~~
When consciousness drifted in after the ungraceful tumble, horrible images of his own splintered bones and torn flesh flooded Jeep’s mind. At least I’m alive; that’s something. But then he grimaced, whether through pain or sadness. Not that anybody would care...
Once Jeep could bear to find out how bad off he was, he mentally checked himself over. Joint-by-joint, limb-by-limb: left hand—OK; right hand—OK; left arm—OK; right arm—OK; left leg...
“Owwwww!” His leg throbbed below the knee, where sharp branches had ripped his pants.
Could have been worse, I guess. Mostly bumps and scratches—except for my leg. But, how can I get back up that hill on it? Its rise seemed to grow steeper the more he worried about not being able to climb it.
I’ve gotta get myself out of this mess. But nothing’s gonna happen ’til morning. And I’m too tired to care right now. So he dozed off again.
As he swam in and out of consciousness, Jeep couldn’t ignore the rumbling in his stomach. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hungry. But then, hunger isn’t something a person ever gets used to. What bothered him more than starving was feeling so helpless and alone.
For the zillionth time, he wished for his mother and resisted the urge to cry. Cold as it is, my eyes would probably freeze. And why make myself feel worse than I do already?
Every time Jeep woke up in the cold darkness his mind leaped from one dismal thought to another—the only part of him capable of leaping. Sure feel rotten all over¼ Chris is going to kill me… I’m just a lost, unwanted orphan... That wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough.
Fuzzy thoughts swam in and out of his muddled awareness. During conscious moments, all sorts of worries marched back and forth in his mind—I’m in trouble now¼ Where am I… Is MeToo OK?...
Thoughts of MeToo brought the dog’s helter-skelter image to mind—knee-high, with brown fur and large white patches, a stubby tail that wagged nonstop, and big ears that flopped. From the first day they got him, MeToo followed Jeep everywhere. So he named himself. Jeep couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how his dog greeted him—with a joyous, bouncy dance on his hind legs and tongue hanging out.
Thinking about MeToo just made Jeep worry more—for both of them. He’s out there lost and hungry, just like me. If (I mean when) I get out of here… But he couldn’t think clearly for long or figure out a plan that could work.
The chill wind blew through Jeep’s clothes, making him burrow deeper into the drifted leaves for the slight protection they provided. It’s cold as Narnia out here, he groaned.
Jeep tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. He crawled around in the dark, feeling for a flat place with fewer brambles. His stiff fingers bumped against his compass, which he already assumed was gone for good. The familiar way it fit into his hand reminded him yet again of his mother. When she gave it to him several Christmases before, she said, “You’re never lost when you’ve got a compass along.”
Guess that means I’m really not lost. No way to use this tonight, but it might be handy come morning.
That was his first comforting thought of that long, long unpleasant night.
Chapter 2—
IT WAS A COLD AND WINDY NIGHT
(Considered the worst first line used in novels. The mark of an unoriginal writer. But notice that it’s used as a title of the Second Chapter.)
At some point during that chilly, miserable night, Jeep remembered what some hero he’d read about did in a really tough fix. Why the heck not try it? This sure looks like a tough fix to me.
Jeep scrunched his eyes tight—hoping against hope for something eerie to happen. Then he wished himself out of this horrible mess and safely home—wanting it more than anything else in the world.
As slowly as he p
ossibly could, he took three deliberately slow, deep breaths—in... out..., in... out..., in... out....
Jeep waited at least a minute without moving a muscle before timidly opening his eyes. Nothing had changed. Nothing! I’m still lost, still hungry, and still in the dark.
He ached more with disappointment than from his body’s aches. What a fool! But I was so sure something had changed. I was so sure¼ But the evidence all around him couldn’t be ignored—everything was just as before.
A combination of anger and foolishness washed over him. What did I expect, anyway? Magic? Who do I think I am? Harry Potter? That kind of stuff only happens in fairy tales.
Until then he hadn’t quite admitted how much he had counted on a magical escape. Now even that fanciful hope was gone. Yet another crushing disappointment for a boy afraid to expect anything else.
Uncomfortable sleep faded in and out. Sometime later, Jeep was awakened by rustling sounds nearby. Probably an animal... more scared of me than I am of it. In his fogginess, he thought he felt a bump against his sore leg more than once More than likely, my imagination is working overtime.
As the first daylight filtered down through the dense treetops Jeep looked around for the first time. He couldn’t believe what he saw. It wasn’t natural—that’s for sure. A broad mass of wild creatures crowded around him and extended well into the shadows. None of them moved.
Ohmygosh! I didn’t imagine all these animals. They’re everywhere! I suppose I’d rather have critters near me than be here by myself. But what do they want?
Time passed slowly and never really got light—just a fuzzy grayness. Jeep tried to sort them out—skunks, raccoons, squirrels, birds, rabbits, and a few furry lumps he couldn’t quite identify. His heart jumped as he saw the light reflected from what had to be more than a hundred shiny eyes. They’re all staring at me! He wanted to ask them: What are you doing here? What do you want from me?
The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) Page 1