20
Maiden Over
It was going to be an exciting day for Tod and Ida. A little plane had arrived very early at the landing strip near Barton’s Billabong, and they were clambering aboard.
“Keep your Gran under control, mate,” called Frank, waving them off. “And say hello to Brisbane for me.”
• • •
The cargo ship was getting close to Brisbane too. Sal had almost finished working her way through the Songs of the Fleece. The Merinos weren’t all that keen on her singing but they were politely impressed that she knew so many verses.
“I don’t reckon we could manage one between us,” said the large ram, whose name was Burl.
“Don’t worry about it, bro,” said Links. “Try this instead.” He tapped his hoof and started nodding.
“You’s the Chosen Few from the Kiwi Land,
And that’s a weird kinda bird, so we now understand.
But you’s on the hoof to a new sheep station,
In what you speak of as a relocation.
Relocation to a land called Oz,
And that’s real cool, and I’m tellin’ you ’cause,
We’s headin’ there too and you’s given us news,
About the bird called emu and the kangaroos.
And though we ain’t quite sure what you’s talkin’ about,
You is A1 dudes, so let’s give it a shout:
It’s been cool to bleat yous…
It’s been cool to bleat yous…
It’s been cool, cool, cool…cool to bleat yous…”
The other warriors and the Chosen Few joined in, and they were still singing when the ship docked in Brisbane and they were all herded into a truck waiting for them at the quayside.
For one horrible moment, Wills thought the warriors were going to be sent back again, because the truck driver kept peering at a piece of paper and asking why there were twenty-five sheep when he was supposed to pick up only twenty.
“Not our problem,” his mate said impatiently. “It’s down to the bloke in New Zealand. He’s put a zero on the form when he should have put a five.”
“S’pose you’re right,” said the driver. “Stick ’em on and let’s go.”
The warriors scampered up the ramp after the Chosen Few. The tailgate was bolted behind them and they peered eagerly through the slatted sides of the truck as it made its way from the quayside. They were in Australia! Not that it looked much different from New Zealand yet.
The truck soon came to a halt. It had pulled off the main road. The driver and his mate weren’t supposed to stop, but there was something on the radio they didn’t want to miss a word of and the reception was suddenly good. They sat on the edge of their seats listening.
“And the tension mounts here at the Gabba…” drawled the radio commentator. “England, having won the toss, are seven for two and in all kinds of trouble…”
The two men in the truck cab sat even farther forward.
In the back, Wills turned to Burl. “Why’ve we stopped?” he asked.
“Dunno, mate,” said Burl. “Can we do your rapping thing one more time?”
So, the warriors and the Chosen Few joined together in singing their “Cool to Bleat Yous” rap again, tapping their hooves noisily on the floor as they sang.
“What’s up with them?” the driver asked, glancing round. “Throw ’em some more feed, Brucy. Keep ’em quiet for a bit.”
His mate jumped down from the cab, opened the tailgate of the truck, and threw in a bucketful of feed nuts from a bin bolted to the side.
“Hush up, guys, will ya?” he said to the sheep, who were still singing. “We’re listening to the match.”
“Ripper! Got him!”
Brucy heard the roar from the radio and the equally loud shout from the driver. He dropped the bucket and raced back to the cab. “What happened?” he demanded, scrambling back into his seat.
Wills blinked at the open tailgate and made a decision. He nudged Oxo.
“I think we should get out.”
“Out?” said Oxo, snaffling some of the nuts.
“While we’ve got the chance. We should go now and make our own way.”
“Our own way where?” asked Oxo, munching noisily.
“To the maiden in distress, of course.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” said Oxo. He raised his head and turned to the other warriors. “Time to ship out, sheep. Follow me.”
He leapt out and the other rare breeds swiftly followed.
“Good-bye,” called Sal to the Merinos.
“Good on ya…” called the Chosen Few. “And good luck…”
The warriors immediately found themselves caught up in a large crowd of hurrying people. They had little choice but to be carried along with the humans. Eventually they reached a broad open gateway in a high wall. From somewhere beyond the gateway, the sheep could hear a voice talking very loudly.
“Well, no more wickets,” the voice boomed. “But that’s a maiden over.”
Sal stopped in her tracks, and the human right behind bumped into her bottom and had to walk round her. Sal had heard a human word she understood.
“Maiden…?” she cried. “Did it say maiden?”
Wills nodded. “Yes. Maiden over.”
“What, knocked over?” Oxo’s chest expanded. “A maiden’s being knocked over?”
“Tuftella…” breathed Sal.
“No. Hang on…hang on—” cried Wills.
But he was talking to four pairs of heels.
The sign above the gateway said, WELCOME TO THE GABBA, and underneath the sign the milling crowd of humans were showing their tickets and bustling through. Lines of attendants looked at the tickets and only the tickets. They didn’t notice five sheep push and shove their way in between the hundreds of human knees and trot quickly up the stone steps to the top of the nearest grandstand.
Oxo couldn’t see any maidens being knocked over. He could only see thousands of people, sitting in rows of seats one above the other. They were all looking down, their eyes glued to the vast patch of vivid green grass below. Oxo’s tummy rumbled but he spoke sternly to himself. “Don’t even think about it, mate. This is no time for grub.”
“So, where’s tacky Tuftella?” Jaycey asked. “And why are those men in white running about?”
“They’re playing cricket,” said Wills, who’d often watched it on television with Tod and Ida in the farmhouse kitchen. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The man with the ball has to throw it at the man with the bat and he tries to hit it then run up and down past the other man with a bat. And if the bowler throws the ball six times and the two batsmen don’t run up and down, you say it’s a maiden over. D’you see…? A maiden…” His voice tailed away amid a great roar of laughter from the crowds around him. The men were still playing cricket but now there was another human running across the grass. A roundish, plum-haired woman in pale pink trousers and top.
Their fairy godtingy!
As the sheep stared, too surprised to move, security guards, in their brightly colored tabards, ran on to the grass after the fairy godtingy. One of them grabbed her arm and she stumbled and fell.
“Oops!” boomed the loudspeaker. “And another maiden over!”
The crowd laughed and groaned but Oxo was already charging down the steps.
“Five for the fairy godtingy!” he roared.
The other warriors hurtled after him. They leapt over the barrier at the bottom of the steps and raced across the grass. The guards had hauled Alice to her feet but a great shout from the crowd made them turn. Astonished, they let go of the pink playing field invader and tried to grab the sheep instead. The warriors scattered and the guards chased them round and round across the outfield, diving after them but never quite catching hold of anything woolly.
Alice gasped in disbelief, then stumbled on and threw herself at the nearest bemused batsman. She planted a kiss on his cheek. Challenge completed! Then two of the guards
grasped her arms roughly and she was marched away. Confused by the chasing noisy humans, the sheep lost sight of her.
“Guys…time to ship out!” shouted Oxo, shaking off a guard who had grabbed his tail and racing for the edge of the outfield. The others raced with him.
• • •
In the grandstand, the crowd were loving the show. It was even better than three English batsmen already being out. Deidre’s eyes were almost popping out of her head. Shelly nudged her.
“Did you get the picture? Did you get the picture?”
Deidre nodded slowly, still speechless.
And a few rows away, Tod and Ida were also staring dumbly as the sheep, their sheep, leapt over the barrier and disappeared, heading for the exit.
“Quick, Tod…!” Ida had finally found her voice. “After them!”
21
Trapped and Lost
Alice was trying her Oscar-winning act again but she wasn’t getting any awards. She’d been taken into an office inside the cricket ground and was being severely told off by the Head of Security. There were rules against field invading.
“I’m sooo sorry,” simpered Alice.
And rules against kissing batsmen.
“It was very naughty of me,” she sobbed.
And then there were the sheep.
“They’re not mine,” cried Alice in sudden alarm.
“Really?” said the Head of Security. He obviously didn’t believe her. “Well, you’ll still have to sit here until they’ve been rounded up.”
“No!” Alice jumped to her feet and dashed toward the door.
The Head of Security stepped in front of her and she pushed him over. That was a big mistake.
Deidre was outside the door. It opened and the Head of Security appeared briefly.
“Don’t bother waiting,” he said. “We’ll be filling in paperwork all night.”
Then the door slammed again.
Shelly was striding down the corridor toward Deidre.
“Are we good to go?” she asked.
“Er, no,” said Deidre. “I think Miss Barton’s been arrested.”
“Shame,” said Shelly, trying not to laugh. “Come and say hello to Norman anyway. I’ve just been down to the quayside and loaded up.”
The cricket ground parking lot was emptying fast now. Bad light had stopped play for the day. A dented, dusty, tangerine-orange truck was standing on its own on the tarmac.
“Norm,” said Shelly, “this is Deidre.”
Deidre giggled. “He’s even worse than the last one,”
“What? Smaller…” said Shelly. “I’ll grant you that. He’s smaller than Trevor. But look on the bright side. You won’t have to share him with the luggage. That’s nicely packed in Normette.”
“Normette?”
Shelly nodded at the small two-wheeled trailer attached to the back of the truck.
“It looks like a baked-bean can on wheels,” said Deidre. “Is all Miss Barton’s precious stuff in that?”
Shelly nodded. “Safe as the Bank of Australia.”
There was a narrow door at the end of the rusty metal tube on wheels. She patted its broken plastic handle and the whole door came off in her hand.
“Oops. It’s always doing that…” Shelly propped the door back in place. “No dramas. Only needs a bit of string.” She rummaged in her pocket and found some.
While Shelly tied the door back together, Deidre checked her laptop.
“The next challenge has come through,” she called. “And hey—it’s the very last one! We have to get to a place called Lonely Flats.”
“Better go and buy some supplies, then,” grunted Shelly.
“Supplies?”
“Food, water, toilet paper…Lonely Flats is way out in the Outback. No corner shops out there.” Shelly tugged the door string to test it. “Not even any corners.”
• • •
While Alice was trapped inside the cricket ground, the warriors were getting lost in the side streets of Brisbane. They’d escaped from the ground through the nearest exit and kept on running until they were out of breath. They were still very confused. Wills had explained again that maiden overs weren’t the same thing as maidens in distress and the others thought they understood. But if he was right, why had the fairy godtingy run onto the grass? And why had the men chased her? And where was she now?
“Maybe we should get back to the cricket ground,” said Wills. “And look for her there?”
“What?” said Jaycey. “And get chased by those horrid men again?”
“Nice grass though,” said Oxo, losing his battle to keep it out of his mind.
“This is not about grass, Oxo,” said Sal, giving him one of her looks. “It is about Destiny.” She turned to Wills. “Which way do we go, dear?”
Wills gazed around at the maze of roads and buildings. He looked up at the sky but there was no help there. The sun had gone behind clouds. He swallowed hard. He had no idea.
22
No Reply
Wills…? Oxo…? Jaycey…?”
Tod was getting hoarse and so was Ida. They’d been chasing around Brisbane for hours. Calling, whistling, searching, stopping passersby to ask if anyone had seen a small flock of sheep. There had, in fact, been several sightings near the cricket ground, but nobody knew where they’d gone after that.
Finally, exhausted and hungry, Tod and Ida went to a police station and reported their rare breeds missing. Then they trudged to the little hotel where they were staying the night. “Boy, has that Rose got some explaining to do,” growled Ida.
Rose was ready when the call came.
It was extremely early, only just light in Murkton-on-Sea but she was already up and eager. She even spoke first.
“Hello, Ida. How’s Brisbane? Hang on a minute…” She was trying to sound casual as she bustled outdoors, carrying her laptop. She took it into the field and set it on the grass, making sure the little camera was pointing in the right direction. A few seconds later, thousands of miles away in Brisbane, the screen on the hotel computer was showing five assorted sheep, grazing in the gray morning light.
“There,” said Rose. “Now, you can say hello to your lovely rare breeds.”
Tod and Ida stared at their screen without speaking. The silence was a long one.
Rose began to panic. “Um…I know Links isn’t looking quite as curly as usual,” she said quickly. “But don’t worry—it’s only the damp weather.”
“Is it?” said Ida, trying to stay calm. “And what about Sal? Why’s she looking so thin?”
“Thin?” Rose gulped hard. “She’s not thin. Just…not so fat.”
“And Jaycey?” Ida was sounding less calm now. “What are those brown blobs all over her fleece?”
“Um…” Rose’s voice rose to a dry squeak. “Mud! Yes—she got splashed with mud.”
Ida’s patience snapped. “I think you mean paint!” She drew a deep breath. “Rose. They are not our sheep!”
“Don’t be silly, Ida. Of course—”
“Rose! Our sheep are here. In Brisbane!”
“They’re what?”
“They’re here. I don’t know how, but they are. And now we’ve lost them again. So you can stop pretending.”
The long silence was at the other end now. It was broken by a sniff before Rose spoke in a tiny voice.
“Oh, Ida, I’m so sorry…” The sniff became a full-scale blub.
Ida finally forgave Rose, and in Murkton, Rose finally stopped crying. Both said sorry several times and Tod told them both that everything would be all right. Finally, he logged off from the hotel computer and he and Gran went up to their room. They ate a few leftover sandwiches for supper.
“I think we should phone Uncle Frank before we go to bed,” Tod said. “He’ll worry if he doesn’t hear from us.”
So they did. But the phone at Barton’s Billabong just rang and rang.
“I expect he’s already asleep,” said Gran. But they both knew th
at Frank never went to bed early. That he would be waiting for their call…
• • •
Tod and Ida woke early next morning. They hadn’t slept well. They phoned the police station but nobody had handed in a flock of sheep. They phoned Frank again, but still he didn’t answer. Ida chewed her lip, then made a decision.
“We need to get back to the Billabong,” she said. “Your Uncle Frank might be ill. And he’s more important than the sheep.”
Tod swallowed hard but nodded. He knew she was right.
23
Boomer and Jaz
The warriors were completely lost. While Tod and Ida were tossing and turning in their hotel room and Alice was locked in the cricket ground, the sheep had continued to wander, far beyond the suburbs of Brisbane. Still straining their eyes for a sight of their fairy godtingy, and their ears for the sobbing and sighing of Tuftella.
Now, they were in open countryside dotted with trees, and there was food at last, of a kind. Oxo spotted it first.
“Comfort stop,” he called, and rumbled wearily toward the patch of rough, prickly grass amid the trees.
The other sheep followed, got their heads down, and munched hungrily. Nobody complained that the stuff was dry and tasteless.
And nobody noticed that they were being watched. Until Jaycey looked up and squealed.
“Ohmygrass…! Looklooklook…”
The others looked. And saw the strangest bunch of creatures staring back at them from across the clearing. Eight or nine of them. They seemed to be mostly made up of feet. And tail. Their tails were so thick and long, they were leaning back on them. Their short, sleek, grayish brown fur gleamed in the dawn sunshine. And one of the females had a little joey peeping from her pocket.
“Kangaroos!” Wills was so excited he forgot about being worried.
“Kangawhat?” asked Oxo.
“Kangaroos. You remember. The Chosen Few on the ship told us about them.”
The largest male hopped forward and spoke.
“G’day. You guys just passing through?”
“Yeah,” replied Oxo, drawing himself up, ready for trouble. “Just passing through. What of it?”
The Warrior Sheep Down Under Page 9
