by Enid Blyton
‘Shut the door,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘Fetch the doctor, Polly’s got a cold. A-HOO-CHOO!’
Her sneeze was so realistic that Lucy-Ann almost offered her a hanky. Soon Jack had to make the parrot stop talking, for, on looking behind him, he found a group of small, excited children following, pointing at Kiki in delight.
They came near to the town – and then Bill gave an exclamation. ‘It’s not a real town! It’s a fake! All these towers and temples are imitation! Look at this one – it is only a front – there’s no back to it.’
They stared in wonder. Bill was right. It was just a flimsy false front, which, from a distance, looked exactly like a real temple – but behind it was nothing but boards and canvas, with joists of timber holding the whole thing up.
They went on, coming to well-built sheds, stored with masses of peculiar things, jerry-built shacks that served all sorts of purposes – one sold cigarettes, one sold soft drinks and others sold groceries and so on.
The people were a curiously mixed lot. Men and women walked or ran here and there, mostly dressed in sloppy-looking European clothes – and others, dressed in flowing robes, went on their way too. Small children with hardly anything on darted everywhere.
And then, round a corner, they came upon a curious sight. It was a procession of magnificently dressed men, walking slowly, and chanting as they went. In the midst of the procession was a space, and here, surrounded by women dressed in the robes of long, long ago, was a kind of bed on which lay a very beautiful woman, carried by four slaves, tall, strong and dark-skinned.
Bill and the others stood and stared – and then Bill heard a curious whirring noise. He looked to see what was making it – and gave an exclamation.
The others looked at him. Bill grinned at them. ‘I’ve got it!’ he said. ‘I see it all now, and I can’t think why it didn’t dawn on me before. The reason why Sinny-Town isn’t shown on the map is because it probably wasn’t here when the map was drawn a year ago! See those enormous cameras? They’re cine-cameras – they’re taking pictures for a film, and . . .’
Then everyone exclaimed too, and began to talk excitedly.
‘Of course! It’s a town specially built for the making of a film of long-ago days!’
‘Why didn’t we think of it before! That’s why that temple is only a front and nothing else!’
‘And why there is such a mixture of people here!’
‘And, of course, it’s Cine-Town, not Sinny-Town as we all imagined!’ said Jack. ‘A town of cinema cameras taking pictures – Cine-Town.’
‘It’s jolly interesting!’ said Philip. ‘Bill, can we wander round on our own? Look, there’s a fellow doing acrobatics over there – look at him bending over backwards and catching hold of the back of his ankles with his hands!’
Bill laughed. ‘All right. You can go and have a good look round. I expect this place attracts a lot of show-people, who think they can make a bit of money by their tricks. You may see something interesting. But keep together, please. Boys, see that the girls don’t get separated from you. I’ll go off alone with your mother, Philip – I might pick up some useful information.’
The children knew what that meant! Bill hoped to find out something about Mr Raya Uma. Well, it was quite likely that he had come to Cine-Town!
They set off by themselves, followed by a little tail of interested noisy children. Beggars called to them as they passed by, holding out all kinds of wares – trays of sticky sweetmeats, covered with flies, that made the two girls shudder in disgust. Fresh fruit in baskets. Little gimcrack objects such as might be found in fairs at home. Pictures of the stars who were, presumably, acting in the film being made in the town. There were all kinds of goods, none of which the children wished to buy.
Even the babies seemed to speak English – or, rather, English with a pronounced American accent, for the company making the film was one of the biggest ones from America. It was easy to pick out the Americans and Europeans, not only by their dress but by their bustling walk and loud voices.
The four children wandered round the false temples and towers, wondering what the film was that was being made – it was obviously a story taken from the Old Testament. Then they made their way to a large group of huts where a little crowd sat watching a man who was performing a most peculiar trick. He was walking up a ladder of knives!
A weird chant went up from two of his attendants as he climbed up the edges of the blades, setting his bare feet on them without flinching. Someone began to play a kind of tom-tom, and the children stood there, fascinated.
The man leapt down, grinning. He turned up the soles of his feet to show that they were not in the least cut. He invited the audience to come and test the sharpness of the knife-edges with their hands, and some of them did.
He beckoned to the four children and they went to the strange ladder of knives and felt the edges too – yes, they were certainly sharp! They gazed at the man in respect, and put a little money into his bag. It was English money, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He could probably change it into his own coinage at any of the ramshackle shops around.
‘What a way to earn your living – climbing up sharp knives with bare feet!’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Oh, look – there’s a juggler!’
The juggler was extremely clever. He had six glittering balls and sent them up and down, to and fro, as fast as he could, so that it was almost impossible for the eye to see them. He caught them so deftly that the children stood lost in admiration. Then he took six plates and juggled with those, throwing them over his shoulder and between his legs, one after the other, without dropping or breaking a single one.
Just as the children were clapping him, Jack felt a hand sliding into his shorts pocket and turned quickly. He grabbed at a small, skinny boy, but the child wriggled away quickly.
‘Hey, you! Don’t you dare to do that again!’ yelled Jack, indignantly, feeling in his pocket. As far as he could tell, nothing had been taken – he had been too quick for the little thief. Still, it was a lesson to him and to all the others too.
‘We obviously mustn’t get so engrossed in watching things that we forget to guard our pockets,’ said Jack. ‘Why didn’t you see that little monkey of a fellow, Kiki? You could have yelled out “Stop thief!”’
‘Stopthief, stopthief, stopthief!’ shouted Kiki immediately, thinking that it was all one word. This astonished all the passers-by so much that they stood and stared. One small girl darted away at once.
‘She thinks Kiki is addressing her,’ said Philip, with a grin. ‘I expect she had just planned to pinch your little bag, Lucy-Ann.’
Just then a queer, thin music floated over to them, and they stopped. ‘I say – that sounds like snake-music!’ said Philip, suddenly excited. ‘Come on, quick – I’ve always wanted to see a snake-charmer at work. Quick!’
7
A surprising morning
Jack, Philip and Lucy-Ann hurried towards the sound, but Dinah hung back.
‘Ugh! Snakes! I don’t want to see them,’ she said. ‘I hate snakes. I’m not coming.’
‘Dinah, you’ve got to keep with us,’ said Philip impatiently. ‘Bill said so. You don’t need to watch, you can turn your back. But you must keep with us.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Dinah crossly. ‘But why you want to go and gloat over snakes I cannot imagine. Horrible things!’
She dawdled behind, but kept within reach, and then, when they came to the little crowd surrounding the snake-charmer, she turned her back. She felt rather sick, for she had caught sight of a snake rising up from a basket, wavering to and fro. She swallowed once or twice, and felt better, but she did not dare to turn round again. She stared out over the strangely mixed crowd.
The other three were in the little crowd round the snake-charmer. He was a rather tough-looking man, with a turban wound round his head, and a wide cloth round his middle. He had only one eye. The other was closed – but his one eye looked round piercingly, and Luc
y-Ann decided that she didn’t like it at all. It was as unblinking as a snake’s!
Beside the man stood his attendant, a small boy, quite naked except for a cloth round his middle. He was painfully thin, and Lucy-Ann could easily count all his bony little ribs. His eyes were sharp and bright – not like a snake’s, thought Lucy-Ann, but like a robin’s. He was talking at top speed about the snakes in the basket.
He spoke a curious mixture of his own language and American. The children could not follow half of it, but they gathered enough to know that the snakes in the basket were dangerous ones, with a bite so poisonous that it could kill even a grown man in twelve hours.
‘He dart like this,’ chanted the little fellow, and made a snake-like movement with his arm, ‘he bite quick, quick, quick . . .’
The man sitting by the round basket began to play again the strange, tuneless music that the children had heard a few minutes before. The snake that Dinah had seen had disappeared back into its basket – but now it arose again and everyone gasped at its wicked-looking head.
Lucy-Ann whispered to Jack. ‘Jack – it’s the snake that the hotel manager told us about – green with red and yellow spots – look! What was its name now?’
‘Er – bargua, I think,’ said Jack, watching the snake. ‘My word, it’s a little beauty, but wicked-looking, isn’t it? See it wavering about as if it’s looking round at everyone. My goodness, here’s another!’
A second snake had now uncoiled itself and was rising up slowly, seeming to look round from side to side. Some of the crowd came a little closer to the snake-charmer, and at once the small boy cried out sharply, ‘Back, back, back! You want to be bit? He bite quick, quick, quick!’
The crowd at once surged back, frightened. The snake-charmer went on with his weird music, blowing interminably on his little flute, his one eye following all the movements of the crowd. A third snake arose and swayed from side to side as if in time to the music.
The small boy tapped it on the head with a stick and it sank down again.
‘He very bad snake, he not safe,’ explained the boy earnestly. The other two snakes still wavered about, and then, quite suddenly, the man changed his music, and it became louder and more insistent. One of the snakes swayed more quickly, and the little boy held a stick over its head as if to stop it.
The snake struck at it, and then, before anyone could stop it, slithered right out of the basket towards the crowd.
At once there were screams and howls, and everyone surged back. The small boy ran at the snake and picked it up. He threw it back into the basket, and a cry of admiration went up at once. Shouts and claps and cheers filled the air, and the snake-charmer stood up slowly, and patted the small boy on the head.
‘He save you all!’ he said, and then added a few rapid words in his own language. ‘He brave. Snake might bite him. He brave,’ he finished.
‘What a kid!’ said an American voice, warm with admiration. ‘Here, boy – take a hold of this!’ and he threw a dollar bill on the ground. The little boy darted on it as quickly as a snake, and nodded his thanks.
That was the signal for other people in the crowd to throw down money for the boy too, and he picked it all up, stuffing it into a fold of his waist-cloth.
The snake-charmer took no notice. He was busy putting the lid on the snake-basket, preparing to leave.
Jack put his hand into his pocket to throw down a coin, but to his surprise Philip stopped him. ‘No, don’t,’ said Philip. ‘It’s all a fake.’
Jack looked at him in enormous surprise. ‘A fake? How? That kid’s as brave as can be! You heard the hotel manager tell us how poisonous those barguas are.’
‘I tell you, it’s a fake!’ said Philip, in a low voice. ‘I agree – they are barguas, and dangerous – but not one of those snakes could hurt a fly.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Lucy-Ann, astonished.
‘Come away and I’ll tell you,’ said Philip. They joined Dinah and went a little way away. Jack looked at Philip impatiently.
‘Come on then – tell us how it was a fake.’
‘Did you notice that when those snakes were swaying about in the basket they kept their mouths shut all the time?’ said Philip. ‘They didn’t open them at all, or show their forked tongues, not even when one of them was tapped on the head – which would usually anger a snake and make him get ready to bite.’
‘Yes – now I come to think of it, they did keep their mouths shut,’ said Jack. ‘But what does that matter? The one that escaped might easily have opened his to strike if he had had a chance. I wonder he didn’t pounce at that small boy.’
‘Do listen,’ said Philip. ‘I was a bit suspicious when I saw that those snakes didn’t open their mouths at all – so that when one snake escaped – though it’s my firm opinion that that “escape” was all arranged, part of the trick, you know – well, when that snake escaped and came writhing near us I took a jolly good look at him. And believe it or not, the poor thing’s mouth was sewn up!’
The others gazed at him in horror. ‘Sewn up!’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Oh, how cruel! That means, of course, that the snake-charmer is perfectly safe – he can’t be bitten because the snakes can’t open their mouths to strike.’
‘Exactly,’ said Philip. ‘I never knew before how the snake-charmer’s trick was done. The snake that “escaped” had its mouth well and truly sewn up – I saw the stitches. The snake was probably doped somehow, and then, while it was doped, the man sewed up its mouth.’
‘But it can’t eat or drink then,’ said Lucy-Ann, feeling sick. ‘It’s cruel. Why doesn’t someone do something about it?’
That boy wasn’t brave after all then,’ said Jack.
‘No. That’s what I told you,’ said Philip. ‘He had been trained to put on that little bit of spectacular courage. You saw how it pulled in the money, didn’t you? My word, talk about a hard-hearted swindle! To sew up snakes’ mouths and use them for a living – ugh, horrible!’
‘I’m jolly glad I didn’t throw down any money,’ said Jack.
‘And I’m jolly glad I didn’t watch,’ said Dinah.
‘I’m sorry for those snakes,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘I hate to think of them.’
‘So do I,’ said Philip. ‘Such pretty things too – that lovely bright green, and those glittering red and yellow spots. I’d like one for a pet.’
Dinah stared at him in horror. ‘Philip! Don’t you dare to keep a snake for a pet – especially a poisonous one.’
‘Don’t fly off the handle, Di,’ said Jack, amused. ‘You know jolly well that Bill would never allow him to keep a poisonous bargua. Cheer up!’
‘Do you suppose we could buy ice-creams here?’ said Lucy-Ann, suddenly feeling that she could eat at least three. ‘My mouth feels so hot and dry.’
‘We’ll find a decent place,’ said Jack. ‘What about that one over there?’
They walked over to it and looked inside. It was clean and bright, and at the little tables sat many Americans and two or three actors and actresses still in costume.
‘This should be all right,’ said Philip, and they went in. People stared at the children, and especially at Jack, who, of course, had Kiki on his shoulder as usual.
A little bell was on each table, so that customers could ring if they wanted anything. Jack picked up the one on his table and rang it.
‘Ding dong bell,’ remarked Kiki. ‘Pussy’s in the well. Fetch the doctor!’ She went off into one of her cackles of laughter, and then began again. ‘Pussy’s in the well, me-ow, me-ow, puss, puss, puss! Ding dong bell!’
There was a sudden silence, and everyone stared in amazement at the parrot, who now proceeded to cough like an old sheep. Jack tapped her on the beak.
‘Now then, Kiki – don’t show off!’
‘Great snakes!’ drawled an American voice nearby. ‘That’s a reemarkable parrot, young fellow! Like to sell him?’
‘Of course not!’ said Jack, quite indignantly. ‘Shut up, Kiki. You’r
e not giving a concert!’
But Kiki was! Delighted at all the sudden attention, she gave a most remarkable performance – and was just in the middle of it when something happened. A man came in and sat down at the children’s table!
‘Hallo!’ he said. ‘Surely I know you! Don’t you belong to old Bill? Is he here with you?’
8
The snake-charmer again
The four children stared at the man in surprise. He was dressed well, and his face looked brown and healthy. He smiled at them, showing very fine teeth.
Nobody answered for a moment. Then Kiki cocked her head on one side, and spoke to the man.
‘Bill! Silly-bill! Pay the bill, silly-billy, pay the billy!’
‘What a wonderful parrot!’ said the man, and put out his hand to ruffle Kiki’s crest. She gave him a quick nip with her beak, and he scowled at once, making his face completely different.
‘Well?’ he said, nursing his finger and smiling again at the children. ‘Have you lost your tongues? I asked you who you were with? Is it old Bill, my good old friend?’
Both girls got a quiet kick on the leg from Jack and Philip. Everyone had remembered what Bill had said. They were not to give away any information if they were asked questions!
‘We’re here with my mother,’ said Philip. ‘We’ve all been ill, so this is a sort of convalescence trip. We’re just having a short river-trip on a launch.’
‘I see,’ said the man. ‘You don’t know anyone called Bill then?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Dinah, to the horror of the two boys. ‘We know Bill Hilton – is he the one you mean?’
‘No,’ said the man.
‘Then there’s Bill Jordans,’ said Dinah, and by the glint in her eye the boys knew that she was making all this up. They joined in heartily.
‘He may mean Bill Ponga – do you, sir?’
‘Or Bill Tipps – he’s the fellow who had four big cars and two small ones – is he the Bill you mean?’
‘Perhaps he means Bill Kent. You know, Jack, the chimney-sweep Mother always has.’