by Enid Blyton
‘Or do you mean Bill Plonk, sir? You might know him – he’s a biscuit-manufacturer, and his biscuits are . . .’
‘No. I do not mean him – or any of the others!’ said the man shortly. ‘Isn’t anyone called Bill with you?’
‘No. As you can see, we’re all alone,’ said Jack.
‘Where’s your launch?’ asked the man. This was getting awkward and Jack cast about in his mind for a way to bring the conversation to a natural end. He glanced suddenly at Lucy-Ann and spoke urgently.
‘I say, old girl! Do you feel sick? Better go out, if so.’
Lucy-Ann took the cue at once and stood up, looking as ill as she could.
‘Yes. Take me out,’ she said, in a suitably faint voice. The others led her down the room and out into the open air.
‘Scoot!’ said Philip, as soon as they were outside. ‘I don’t think he’ll come after us – but he might. Jolly good idea of yours, Jack, to pretend Lucy-Ann felt sick.’
They disappeared at top speed round the building and went into an empty shed. There was a dirty window there and they peered through it, keeping a watch for the over-friendly man. Lucy-Ann made a peculiar noise.
‘I think I am going to be sick, she said. ‘Jack was right!’ But she wasn’t sick after all, and soon began to feel better.
‘Here comes our friend,’ said Jack, gazing through the dirty window. ‘He’s standing still, looking this way and that. Now he’s got into a car – he’s driving off at top speed. Goodo!’
‘Do you think he was Raya Uma himself?’ asked Dinah.
‘Shouldn’t think so,’ said Jack. ‘Though he did have very white teeth – did you notice? And Bill said that Raya Uma had remarkably white teeth. I couldn’t see if he had a scar on his arm, because his coat-sleeves were long.’
‘We told him about plenty of Bills,’ said Dinah with a laugh.
‘Bill! Pay the bill!’ said Kiki, joining in as usual.
‘We did, old thing!’ said Jack. ‘We paid for the ice-creams when they were brought to us. Didn’t you notice? You’re as blind as a bat!’
‘Batty,’ said Kiki, jigging up and down. ‘Batty, batty, batty!’
‘Quite right. You are!’ said Philip, and everyone laughed. They went to the door of the shed. ‘Is it safe to go now, do you think?’ asked Dinah. Jack nodded.
‘Oh yes. He won’t try and get anything more out of us. He knows we were fooling with him – but he doesn’t know if it was because we were being cautious, or were just plain rude. We’ll have to tell Bill about it and see what he says. I think there’s no doubt but that the man has got wind that someone’s coming out to snoop, and has been looking out for newcomers.’
They went out of the shed and wandered round. They came to a collection of tumbledown wooden huts, which looked as if they might have been built for years, not merely for the film outfit.
‘A bit too far,’ said Jack. ‘Let’s go back. I say, though – what’s that?’
A sudden cry had come to his sharp ears. He stood still and then the others heard a cry too. They also heard something even worse – the sound of a cane or stick being used as a weapon!
Every time that the sound of a blow came, there followed immediately a high-pitched scream of pain and terror.
‘That’s a child yelling!’ said Philip. ‘He sounds as if he’s being half killed. Come on – I can’t bear this. We’ve got to do something about it!’
They raced round the huts, and came to a bare space, where old boxes and crates lay about. At the back stood a man, thrashing a child with a thick stick. One or two other people were there, but nobody made the slightest attempt to stop the whipping.
‘Gosh – it’s that snake-charmer!’ cried Jack. ‘And that’s the little boy who picked up the money – look, the fellow has got him on the ground!’
All four of them raced over to the angry man. Philip caught hold of his arm, and Jack wrenched the stick from his hand. The man swung round in fury.
He shouted something they didn’t understand, and tried to catch at the stick. But Philip put it out of reach. ‘No you don’t! You’re a cruel beast, lashing out at that little kid like that! What’s he done?’
The man shouted again, and his one eye glittered dangerously. The small boy raised his head, and sobbed out a few words.
‘He say I keep money. He say I rob. But see, I have none!’
He opened his folded waist-cloth and shook it. He pointed at the snake-charmer. ‘I give him all, all! He say I spend some. He beat me. Ai, ai!’
The small boy put his thin arms across his face and wept again. The man made a move towards him as if to strike him with his bare fist, but Philip jumped forward with the stick.
‘Don’t you touch him again! You let him be! I shall report you for this!’
Philip had no idea to whom he should report the man, but he was determined not to let him hit the child again. The snake-charmer glared at him in fury out of his one eye. Then he made a sudden move towards his snake-basket, which lay on the ground nearby. He kicked off the lid and at once the snakes rose up, scared and angered.
‘Run! Run!’ he shouted, in English. ‘I tell my snakes bite, bite, bite!’
Dinah turned and ran at once, but the others kept their ground. If Philip was right, and the snakes’ mouths were sewn up, they were harmless, and there was no need to run. Two of the snakes came gliding rapidly over the ground towards them. Then Philip did something surprising. He threw the stick to Jack, and then knelt down on the ground. He made a curious hissing noise, the same noise that he used in his own country when he wanted to tame grass snakes.
The snakes stopped immediately. They raised their heads and looked towards the boy. Then they glided right up to Philip and ran their mouths over his hands. One snake writhed up his arm and hung itself round his neck.
The snake-charmer stared in the utmost amazement. Why – the snakes had never done that to him! They had avoided him whenever they could, for they hated him. Never, never had he seen wild snakes go to anyone as they went to this quietly hissing boy! He wasn’t even afraid!
‘Snakes bite – bite, bite, bite!’ he said, and stamped on the ground to frighten them and make them strike with their shut mouths.
‘They can’t,’ said Philip scornfully, and ran his hand gently along the sides of their mouths. ‘You have sewn them up. In my country you would be sent to prison for such a cruel deed.’
The man fell into a rage and yelled loudly in his own language. The small boy ran to Philip. ‘Go, go! He call friends, they hurt you. Go!’
Philip put down the snakes promptly, thinking of the two girls. They must go at once if there was any danger of this fellow’s friends coming and making themselves a nuisance. ‘We’d better scoot,’ he said to Jack. But it was too late!
Three youths had come running at the snake-charmer’s call, and they surrounded the four children, pushing Dinah close to the others. Philip put on a bold face. He walked forward.
‘Make way!’ he said. ‘Make way, or we’ll get the police.’
But the youths closed in even more, and the boys felt their hearts sink. They couldn’t take on these three and the angry snake-charmer too!
But Kiki was not going to stand for this kind of thing. She danced up and down on Jack’s shoulder in anger, and screamed out at the top of her voice.
‘Police! Police! Fetch the police!’ she screeched, and then whistled like a police-whistle. ‘PHEEEEEEEEE! PHEEEEEEEEEE! PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’
9
At lunch time
Kiki’s shouts for the police and her marvellous imitation of a police whistle terrified all the youths. They stood aghast, staring at this extraordinary parrot. Then, with one accord, they and the snake-charmer took to their heels and fled. The snake-charmer snatched up his basket of snakes as he went – all three were in it again, which was a pity.
The four children stood gazing after the runaways, most relieved. Kiki gave an enormous chuckle, and then such a
cackle of laughter that the children couldn’t help joining in.
‘Kiki! Thanks very much!’ said Jack, scratching the delighted parrot on her head. ‘I suppose you heard Philip say the word “police” and that reminded you of your police-whistle performance. Very, very lucky for us!’
‘No police came, though,’ said Lucy-Ann. ‘Good old Kiki! That was the best whistling you’ve ever done – better even than your train-whistle.’
‘We’d better get back to the launch, I think,’ said Philip. ‘I don’t like us getting mixed up in anything like this. Bill would row us like fury if something serious happened.’
They were just setting off when a small figure ran out from behind a hut. It was the little boy. He ran to Philip and took his hand. He knelt down before him.
‘Take me with you, boss! Bula has gone with snakes, and I have no money. He bad man, I no like him. Take me with you.’
‘I can’t,’ said Philip, gently undoing the boy’s hands from his. ‘I will give you money, though.’
‘Not money. Take me with you, take Oola with you!’ said the boy beseechingly.
‘No, Oola, we can’t,’ said Philip.
‘Yes, boss! Oola be yours, Oola work for you!’ said the boy, clutching at Philip’s hand again. ‘You like snakes, boss? Oola bring you some!’
‘Listen, Oola – I do like snakes – but not those with their poor mouths sewn up,’ said Philip. ‘And it would be dangerous to have one that could bite. Have you no family to look after you?’
‘Only Bula, who my uncle is,’ said Oola, still clutching Philip’s hand. The boy felt really embarrassed. ‘Bula bad man, Bula hit, see, see!’
He showed bruises and weals all over his body. Lucy-Ann gave a sudden little sob.
‘Poor little Oola!’ she said. ‘Can’t we take him, Philip?’
‘No, Lucy-Ann, we can’t,’ said Philip. ‘We can’t collect all the poor, ill-used animals or children we see here – that mangy dog over there, the poor donkey I saw today, with sores all over it – the little baby, so thin and tiny, that we saw lying on an old rug, don’t you remember? They each want help and friends – but we can’t collect them all and take them to the launch. No, Oola – we cannot take you.’
‘What I do? What I do?’ said Oola in despair.
‘We’ll take you to the First Aid Tent,’ said Philip. ‘I saw one somewhere about. They will look after you and help you, Oola. They will bathe your bruises for you.’
Oola went with them disconsolately, dragging his bare feet, his head hanging down – but as soon as they came to the immaculately white tent, with its nurse at the door in a starched apron, Oola fled! They heard him wailing as he went, and both Dinah and Lucy-Ann had tears in their eyes as they watched the half-naked little figure running behind a shack.
‘Blow!’ said Jack. ‘I feel awful about this. I feel as if we’ve let Oola down very badly – but I don’t see what else we can do.’
‘Come on,’ said Philip. ‘Let’s go back to the launch. We’re supposed to be back by one, and it’s almost that now.’
They made their way back to the river, none of them feeling very happy. Philip kept a watch for the man who had questioned them, but there was no sign of him. They arrived safely at the launch, and were greeted with pleasure by Tala. They all jumped aboard, and heard Bill’s voice calling to them.
‘You’re rather late. We were getting a bit worried about you. Go and wash and we’ll all have a meal.’
Over the meal they exchanged news with Bill. ‘Did you find out anything about that fellow Raya Uma?’ asked Philip, dropping his voice so that Tala could not hear.
‘Not a thing,’ said Bill. ‘But perhaps I shall when I get to Ala-ou-iya. Your mother and I just wandered about, found out about this film, saw a friend we knew, and came back here. Very dull. What about you? What did you do?’
Bill sat up straight when the children began to tell him about the man in the ice-cream shop who had come up and questioned them. ‘He didn’t say your surname, Bill,’ said Jack. ‘He just kept on saying “Bill”. Wouldn’t he know your surname?’
‘No. But he might know my Christian name,’ said Bill. ‘You didn’t by any chance say what my surname was, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ said both boys indignantly. ‘But we told him a whole lot more Bills, and asked him if he meant them,’ added Jack, with a chuckle.
‘What do you mean?’ said Bill, puzzled.
‘Well – we asked him if he meant Bill Hilton – or Bill Jordans – or Bill Ponga – or Bill Tipps, who has four big cars and two small ones,’ said Jack.
‘Or Bill Kent the chimney-sweep – or Bill Plonk who makes biscuits,’ went on Dinah.
Bill threw back his head and laughed. ‘You little monkeys! All make-believe Bills, I gather. Well, what happened next?’
‘Oh – he asked where our launch was – we’d told him about the river-trip for our convalescence,’ said Philip, ‘and we realized things might get a bit awkward – so Jack decided that Lucy-Ann looked as if she was going to be sick, and we shot out with her, and hid.’
Bill roared again. ‘I’d rather have you kids on my side than against me,’ he said. ‘You’re too smart for words! Well – it rather looks as if that fellow was a spy of Raya Uma’s. What was he like?’
They told Bill. ‘It doesn’t somehow sound like Uma,’ said Bill. ‘Except for the teeth. No, I don’t think it was Uma. If he’s going about openly like that he couldn’t be up to anything serious. He could be too easily watched. Still, it looks as if Uma is out here, if he has a friend who spots you and asks you leading questions about someone called Bill. Thanks for keeping my surname secret!’
‘Any other news?’ asked Mrs Cunningham. ‘What else did you do?’
‘Oh – the snakes!’ said Dinah, remembering. ‘You tell about them, Philip.’
Philip related the whole story, right down to where Kiki had yelled for the police and whistled. Bill frowned.
‘Now this kind of thing won’t do, you know,’ he said. ‘You might have got yourselves into serious trouble. You must never go wandering about in back streets again.’
‘Yes, but Bill – we couldn’t let that fellow go on hitting Oola without doing something about it, surely?’ said Jack.
‘You two boys could have gone to stop the man, and have sent the girls away for help – they would have been quite safe then,’ said Bill. ‘Even if your feelings run away with you, you have ALWAYS got to think of your sisters first. If you want to jump into a brawl, do it when you’re alone. Understand?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said both boys, rather red in the face. ‘Sorry, Bill!’
‘Sorry, Bill,’ echoed Kiki. ‘Sorry, sorry, Bill.’
Everyone laughed, and Bill changed the subject. ‘That’s an extraordinary place,’ he said, nodding his head towards Cine-Town. ‘Scores of all kinds of buildings put up just for six months! Did you see the fair they’ve got there?’
‘No,’ said the children, surprised. ‘We missed that.’
‘Oh yes – hoopla stalls, gambling games, dancing girls, shooting acts and goodness knows what,’ said Bill. ‘I’ve no doubt your snake-charmer came from there. Whether he will venture back again after Kiki’s alarming call for the police I very much doubt. They’ve even got a fire-eater there.’
‘A fire-eater!’ said Philip. ‘I’d like to see him do his act. Take us, Bill!’
‘No, I think not,’ said Bill. ‘I’d better be getting on to Ala-ou-iya. That’s where I really hope to get news of Uma. You’ll have to hope to see a fire-eater another time. By the way, did you see the fellow climbing a ladder of knives? We saw him just as we came back.’
‘Yes, we saw him too,’ said Jack. ‘I do wish we had more time to spend at Cine-Town – it’s ugly and strange, but it’s quite fascinating!’
Bill got up, filling his pipe. He called to Tala. ‘We’ve finished, Tala. Start for Ala-ou-iya in an hour’s time, please. We should be there about six o’clock. We�
��ll spend the night there, off-shore, of course.’
‘Good, Sir!’ called back Tala, and came to collect the trays. The children settled down under an awning to read. Bill had given them some books about the countryside nearby, telling them that it was extremely interesting, and that civilizations thousands of years old had lived in the countryside they passed on their way down the river.
It was a pleasant trip on the water that afternoon. Cine-Town was soon left behind as the launch glided slowly and smoothly along. Tala called to them just before six o’clock.
‘We come to Ala-ou-iya!’ he chanted, making the name sing on his tongue. ‘You know old town, Sir? It called Ala-ou-iya, Gateway of Kings!’
10
That night
Tala took the launch deftly to a mooring-post by a small wooden jetty. One or two fishing-boats were there already. Trees came right down to the water, but beyond them the children could see the outlines of small houses, low and whitewashed. Smoke rose on the evening air, rising straight up, for there was no breeze away from the river.
‘What did Tala mean – that Ala-ou-iya is the Gateway of Kings?’ asked Dinah. ‘It says that too in the books you gave us to read, Bill – but it doesn’t explain it.’
‘I don’t expect it means anything much,’ said Bill. ‘Unless it is a name handed down from old times, when much of this country was the site of civilizations thousands of years old.’
‘As old as Ur, the town in the Bible?’ asked Lucy-Ann.
‘Yes – as old as Ur – and probably much older!’ said Bill, with a laugh. ‘There must have been great palaces and temples here in this country even before the Great Flood, when Noah sailed off in his Ark.’
‘Oh, “The Gateway of Kings” might really have meant something then,’ said Dinah. ‘There might have been a golden gateway leading to a palace – or to a temple. I wish this book explained more. Bill, it’s strange, isn’t it, to think that perhaps seven or eight thousand years ago, if we had sailed down this river, we might have passed the most wonderful buildings on the way! All towering high and glittering in the sun!’