"What would she say? What would your mummy say?" A Gaboon raced up to her and sat down with crossed legs and a hand under its chin.
Lindy scolded, "She'd say, it's perfectly all right to think bad things . . ."
"To think bad things," echoed the Gaboon.
". . . But you don't have the right to say them. It's not polite. Mummy wouldn't like you at all . . . and I wish she were here now." Lindy's thumb went into her mouth and she began to cry.
The Gaboon pulled a sad face. "Aaah . . . the little girl is all upset. See what you've done, fellers . . . you've made her cry."
"Aaaah." All the Gaboons pretended to be sad. They mocked Lindy and each put a thumb in its mouth. One raced up to her and screamed nastily, "Serves you right," then it jumped in the air and ran away.
Benjamin was furious. Until now, he had been able to control himself. But seeing how cruelly the Gaboons were teasing Lindy made him lose all reason. The professor caught him just as he was about to hurl himself upon the offending creatures.
"Benjamin. Control yourself. Lindy, stop that crying. Now listen to me, all of you."
The Swamp Gaboons, feigning interest, crowded around. But as soon as the professor began to speak, they made such a racket it was hard for the children to understand what he was saying.
"The Whiffle Bird said 'Mind your manners' and that's what we're going to do. The more you respond to these miserable creatures"—the professor ducked as one of them tried to pull his hair—"the more ammunition you give them. Unless we ignore them, we'll never get through."
"You'll never get through. You'll never get through. You stupid, sloppy, no-good human." The Gaboons shrieked and formed a line across the archway again.
"The madder you get," continued the professor, "the more they love it!"
"We love it. We love it," roared the furry mob.
"So we are going to ignore them. I believe that if we do this and concentrate on the important issue, which is why we are here and whom we came to find," said the professor, speaking the words with great emphasis, "then I do not think they can stop us.
Come on now. Stare the creatures down if you have to, but do not respond to them."
The children and the professor began to walk slowly towards the arch.
The Swamp Gaboons went berserk. "Hateful boys, silly girl, monster man!" they yelled. They tugged at the professor's clothing and pulled Lindy's hair and pinched Ben and Tom.
The professor raised his voice again. "I do believe it's going to be fine weather at the top of the mountain, don't you?"
Ben took the cue. "I think you're right, sir. Lindy, can you see the palace up there? Don't you wonder what it's going to be like?"
"I . . . I I. . . oh, yes I do," Lindy replied bravely. She was still close to tears, but she put an arm around Ben and said fiercely, "Ask me something else, quick."
"Well now, Professor, Lindy wants me to ask her something. Tom, do you have anything to say?"
Ben had no idea what he was talking about, but just saying things made it easier to ignore the tormenting crowd.
They reached the arch and the Gaboons were in a frenzy. "Don't you dare go through! Don't you dare!" they bawled.
One Gaboon with foul breath thrust its face close to Tom. "Do you know you have a silly nose?" it hissed.
Tom swallowed hard. The professor said lightly, "Steady, Tom."
"You have cauliflower ears, too," mocked the Gaboon, "and crossed eyes and yellow teeth!"
"Thank you so much," Tom managed to say politely, and to his surprise he felt rather good.
The professor tapped a large Swamp Gaboon on the shoulder with his umbrella. "Excuse me, my good fellow, we'd like to get through, if you don't mind. Now, Ben, you were saying . . . ?"
He walked past the creature slowly and calmly. It bellowed with anger. "Don't touch me, you measly wart. I hate you."
It belched loudly in Ben's ear. The boy jumped, but he kept his arm around Lindy and continued to walk beside the professor.
"Not long now, I think," said the professor encouragingly. "See, we're under the arch and there is the road ahead. Keep your eyes on it, children."
"Look out! Look out! There's a monster behind you!" screamed the Gaboons.
"Don't look back," urged the professor.
"Your shirt's hanging out, you ridiculous boy." Tom felt something tugging at his pants. He put his hand behind him, and a Swamp Gaboon grasped his fingers and held them tightly. Tom looked imploringly at the professor.
"Keep walking, Tom, even if you drag the creature with you. Just keep moving."
The Swamp Gaboon hung on and dug in its heels. It sat down on the road like a sulky child refusing to walk. "I'll bite you," it said cunningly. "I'll bite your hand off, you nasty boy."
Tom felt sharp teeth nibbling at his fingers. It took all his self-control to overcome his panic. Then he had an idea. He turned quickly and whacked the Gaboon sharply on the top of its head. At the same time, he pumped the hand that was holding his and said politely, "It was such a pleasure meeting you, old boy. Goodbye." The Gaboon was so surprised that it released Tom's fingers and the boy instantly put both hands in his pockets.
Now the Swamp Gaboons changed their tactics. As the professor and the children walked farther and farther away from them they sobbed and howled and tried all manner of last-minute tricks to gain their attention.
"Come back, come back. I was only joking."
"Take me with you. Please."
"Ouch. I've hurt myself badly."
"Help. I've broken my finger."
"I've broken my back."
"I'll eat worms if you don't turn around."
"I'll hold my breath until I explode."
"You'll be sorry when the Whangdoodle hears of this."
Their voices began to fade. The professor smiled in weary triumph. He looked at the children.
"Well done, my friends. Listen to how truly silly they are. I think they will not bother us anymore. We shall walk a few more yards, until we are around the next corner. Then we will relax, for if we don't, I think I shall collapse. I don't recall ever being so exhausted."
FOUR
They rested for a half hour. The professor was weary, though he tried hard not to show it. He talked about the Swamp Gaboons.
"I hope you realize what a valuable lesson you all learned just now."
Tom said, "You mean about turning the other cheek?"
"Yes, that's part of it. There will be many times in your lives—at school, and more particularly when you are grown up—when people will distract or divert you from what needs to be done. You may even welcome the distraction. But if you use it as an excuse for not doing what you're supposed to do, you can blame no one but yourself. If you truly wish to accomplish something, you should allow nothing to stop you, and chances are you'll succeed."
The professor leaned back against the mountain and took a deep breath. "You see, the Gaboons' words didn't hurt you, once you resolved not to let them."
"They did hurt a bit," Lindy confessed in a small voice.
"Yes. But when you remembered your main purpose, you were able to put aside your feelings and concentrate on the important issues."
He mopped his brow. "I think we should try to push on."
They followed him as he slowly and laboriously climbed the steep and narrow path. The children shuddered as they looked down at the ground hundreds of feet below.
The professor began to act in a way that was very unlike him. He paused frequently, sometimes shielding his eyes and gazing into the distance. Occasionally he mumbled to himself. Once, he said quite clearly, "I must remember to pack my red socks."
The children could only think that the whole incredible search for the Whangdoodle had become too great a strain on their good friend. They clustered around him lovingly, in an attempt to encourage him.
Ben said, "Look, Professor how near we are to the castle."
They could see now that the pure, transparent crys
tal was buttressed by huge pillars of milk-white glass. The turrets were like the creamy frosting on top of a birthday cake and seemed to be reaching to touch the red sky.
Higher and higher they climbed. The altitude made them all short of breath and the professor gasped and moved more slowly with every step. Suddenly he stopped and leaned against a rock. He shut his eyes.
"My dears," he said in a tired voice, "I do not think I can go any farther. You must go on without me."
They all spoke at once.
"But that's impossible, Professor."
"We'll never make it without you."
"We're so close. If you could try just one step at a time."
He raised a hand wearily. "No, no. You don't understand. . . ."
But they wouldn't listen.
"We'll help you, Professor."
"We'll wait for you."
Tom said, "Lean on me, sir—put your whole weight on me. I can take it."
Ben ran ahead to a bend in the road. When he turned the corner, he was so staggered by what he saw that for a moment he could not move. Then he raced back to the professor.
"Sir, you just have to go on," he cried. "We're there. We're actually there. I've found the bridge. It's around the corner. All we have to do is cross over it to reach the palace. Come and see for yourself. Come on, Professor. You can do it. You can."
The children were wild with excitement. Their sheer enthusiasm carried the professor forward.
With triumph in his voice, Ben said, "There. You see? See the bridge? We've made it."
The children gazed with awe at the sight before them, and they were all close to tears.
Ahead, the ground fell away into a tremendous chasm, thousands of feet deep, and far below was a thundering waterfall, so huge that the sound of it echoed back to the top of the mountain.
Spanning the abyss was the bridge. It was incredibly beautiful, like an inverted silken rainbow swaying gently in the cool breeze. At the far end of it, two bronze doors were set into a colossal archway.
They were open, and beyond them was the Whangdoodle's palace.
Ben turned to the professor.
'We've done it, Professor. Aren't you proud? Aren't you thrilled?"
The professor did not answer. He was staring at the palace with intense concentration. He sat down on a nearby rock and put his head in his hands. In all the weeks the children had known him, they had never seen him so dispirited.
They gathered around him. He raised his head and looked at them for a long moment. Then he said, "You are going to have to do something for me which I know you will not want to do. But there must be no argument about it. I want you to go on to the palace by yourselves. Listen to me," he said firmly as they started to protest.
'When I first conceived the idea of trying to reach the Whangdoodle, I realized only too well that I might fail. I was too old, too set in my thought patterns. Then the three of you came along. I hoped that, through you, I might reawaken the younger part of my mind, the imagination that has been shut down for so many years. In other words, if your eyes could see it, perhaps mine could see it too."
The professor's voice broke. "I must tell you," he continued, "that the closer we have come to the Whangdoodle, the harder it has been for me to keep up with you. This last part of our journey has been almost impossible for me."
"But we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," Tom burst out. "We didn't help you, it was the other way around. You helped us. You made it all possible."
Ben said, "Only a little while ago, you said that if you really try, then the chances are you'll succeed."
The professor shut his eyes again. "I said the chances for success were good. I didn't say they were a hundred per cent certain. One must always take into account the possibility of failure."
Ben spoke desperately. "But how can you say that, Professor? All you have to do is cross the bridge."
The professor smiled sadly. "I must tell you. I cannot see the bridge."
"What do you mean?" Tom was aghast. "Of course you can see it. You can see the palace, can't you?"
"Yes, I have always been able to see it. But seeing how to get to the palace is another matter. For me, the bridge just isn't there. Only the chasm."
The boys fell silent.
Lindy said in a choked voice, "You should've had a scrappy cap." She burst into tears and rushed into his arms. "I didn't think that all this would happen," she sobbed. "I just can't bear to think of you not going with us. It's too sad."
"Are you sure you've tried hard enough?" asked Tom.
"You must believe me, Tom. I've tried as hard as I can. You know how much I want to see the Whangdoodle. This is simply one of those times in life when in spite of every effort, one fails. But you mustn't feel sad, because I don't. Without you I wouldn't have been able to get this far."
Ben said determinedly, "Professor, I don't care what you say. If you can't go, then I won't either." Tom and Lindy agreed instantly.
"No, that's right."
"We won't go without you."
The professor blinked hard and said, "That's very dear, and just like you. But you will go on, and I will tell you why: because, for me, it will be the next best thing to being there. I will wait here for you. I shall be perfectly all right. When you have seen the Whangdoodle, you will come back and tell me all about him—every single wonderful detail. Now, be off with you. I don't want to see your faces again until you bring me news of the Whangdoodle. By the way, send him my fondest regards."
Tom said sharply, "Look at the Whiffle Bird. What's the matter with her?"
She had been sitting quietly on the silk supporting rope of the bridge. Now she was strutting up and down stiffly, as if hypnotized.
"What on earth . . ." The professor rose frantically, looked up, and recoiled in horror. "Look out!" he shouted. The sky became suddenly dark.
The children had a glimpse of a monstrous head with a huge sharp-pointed beak coming straight towards them. It was the Gyascutus.
Too late, the Whiffle Bird flew into the air. Startled out of her trance, she screamed, "MAYDAY!"
The children flung themselves clear of the slashing talons.
The professor bellowed in dismay. "No," he cried. "No, no, no. You shall not do this!"
In desperation he found strength. As the Gyascutus banked around for another attack he took a firm grip on his umbrella. When the huge bird flew past him he swiped at it with all his might, giving it a resounding thwack that sent it careering off course.
He yelled to the children, "Run! Run to the palace!"
"What about you?" Ben cried, horrified.
"I shall be all right. I promise you. Now go on." The children ran towards the bridge.
The professor jumped up and down and waved his arms wildly. "Come on, you devil," he called out to the giant bird. "Let's see what you're made of. You big, dumb, pea-brained bully!"
The Gyascutus was diverted by the noisy, dancing figure. It swooped down for another attack. As the children clattered onto the slats of the bridge, the professor put his back to the rock and, using his umbrella as a sword, he fought the monster with the last ounce of his strength.
The Gyascutus screamed with outrage. One giant claw reached out for the tired and desperate man. It picked him up as though he were a rag doll and dashed him against the rock. The professor fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.
The children were running so hard for the palace they did not see what was happening behind them. Ben was in front with Lindy. Tom was close behind and the Whiffle Bird just above his head.
They had not realized that the bridge was so long. Their frantic chase made it sway dreadfully and Lindy gasped as she glimpsed the boiling, foaming river thousands of feet below.
"Ben, Ben, don't go so fast!" she cried.
Her foot slipped between the slats and she crashed to her knees, crying out in pain. Ben turned to help her and suddenly screamed with fear. "Look out, Tom!"
The Gyascut
us was only inches away from Tom.
There was a rushing wind that moved the bridge violently from side to side. Ben and Lindy clung desperately to the guide ropes. Tom felt two sharp claws hook into the shoulders of his jacket and he was lifted high out over the chasm.
The Whiffle Bird went berserk. With a shriek, she rocketed towards the Gyascutus, aiming straight for its eyes. Her brilliant feathers momentarily blinded the monster and it flapped desperately back over the bridge.
Ben scrambled to his feet and flung his arms around Tom's legs just as he passed overhead.
The Gyascutus pulled and pulled and Ben hung on with all his might. The Whiffle Bird attacked again and again.
Sick with fear, Lindy managed to cry, "Undo your jacket, Tom! Get out of it!"
Tom heard her. He plucked at the buttons of his coat and raised his arms. He slid out of the sleeves and crashed onto the bridge just as the Whiffle Bird screamed, "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" She flew at the Gyascutus again. The children picked themselves up and raced the last hundred yards to the huge burnished gates.
Then a terrible thing happened. The confused Gyascutus was trying to rid itself of Tom's jacket. The giant wings were thrashing, and the Whiffle Bird was helplessly caught up in the whirlwind. She received a mighty blow that knocked her to the bridge, where she lay horribly still.
Tom gave an agonized cry and raced back to her side. "It's all right, Whiffle Bird. I'm here. I've got you. It's all right." He picked her up gently.
Ben was yelling, "Tom! Come on!"
Tom looked up and saw that the Gyascutus was coming at him once again. He began to run.
It was a desperate race. The three children stumbled off the swaying bridge and under the tall archway, with the Gyascutus only a few feet behind them.
"The doors. Close the doors!" Ben flung himself against one side and Lindy and Tom pushed hard against the other. With a mighty clang the great bronze portals closed and the enraged Gyascutus slammed into them. The earth trembled. But the doors held.
The children leaned against the cool metal, fighting to regain their breath. When they had recovered sufficiently to turn around and see where they were, they received yet another shock.
The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles Page 13
