by J. P. Martin
This seemed to be too much for Goatsby, who turned away from the pile of gold and said:
“Well, let’s get back.”
As a matter of fact Uncle wanted to get home by six o’clock as he was expecting a very special parcel by the second post, so he gave the signal to return.
The journey to the treasury had made Uncle forget Goatsby’s statue, but as soon as he got back to the hall of Homeward its ugliness made him shudder. The marble ears seemed to stick out even further, and it was depressing to think that having accepted the gold ingots he now had this hateful object in his living-room for ever.
“Oh, look at my statue!” cried Goatsby. “It’s not very well dusted, is it?”
“You had better remove it if you don’t like the way it is kept,” said Uncle, breathing heavily.
“Oh no, your room would look so empty and drab without it! I’m sure you won’t mind me coming every week and bringing a feather duster!”
This insult to the Old Monkey’s housekeeping was too much for Uncle. “Look,” he said, “to tell you the truth I’m tired of your statue, Goatsby. You can take it away.”
The Old Monkey jumped for joy.
“What about the gold ingots?” said Goatsby, with an odious smile. “No statue, no ingots.”
Uncle went to his desk and took out his cheque-book.
“I will pay you for the ingots and that will finish the matter! That is unless you would like me to take the gold out of the treasury again.”
“Oh, we can’t go through all that again!” said Goatsby. “I’ll take the cheque.”
“You’ll have to cash it here,” said Uncle. “There’s no bank in the country that could meet such a sum. And I reserve the right to pay in cash or goods. I’ll think the matter over. You can present the cheque tomorrow. But you can remove your statue now. It may be a good likeness, but it takes away my appetite and spoils my breakfast.”
Goatsby said nothing, but took the cheque. Then he did a very strange thing. He began to dance in front of his statue. They all watched him while he bowed and scraped and whirled for a long time.
After he had gone with the statue Uncle sighed:
“Well, that’s a relief. I must say. I’m much puzzled though by Goatsby’s conduct. That dance, what did you make of it?”
“I don’t know I’m sure, sir,” said the Old Monkey. “It was as though he had won a victory, but how could he have done?”
“Very mysterious,” said Uncle.
A few minutes later a telegram arrived from Badfort.
DEAR OLD CLEVER-BOOTS, GOATSBY JUST ARRIVED. THE GOLD HE BROUGHT YOU IS GILT LEAD. TOMORROW WE CASH CHEQUE AND HOLD FESTIVAL BANQUET.
BEAVER HATEMAN
Uncle turned pale as he read this. He felt very depressed and so did the Old Monkey.
As for Whitebeard, despite the medicine he had recently taken, he was lying on the floor in a state of collapse.
“A cheque for a million!” he kept muttering.
“I’ll tell you what, sir,” said the Old Monkey. “I’ll give you all my savings to help you out.”
This was very generous of the Old Monkey, for he had got together, in one way or another, a hundred pounds. He does Uncle’s accounts, but even so he doesn’t really understand the meaning of a million pounds.
“No,” said Uncle. “Thank you all the same. I shan’t need that, but I shan’t forget the offer.”
Incredible as it may seem, there did come a time when Uncle actually needed the Old Monkey’s money, and very badly, in a terrible emergency.
“I must honour my own cheque,” said Uncle, “but I’ve got to save my face somehow; the question is how!”
“We must think of something!” said the Old Monkey. “We can’t let Goatsby win over this.”
“I’ve got it,” said Uncle suddenly slapping down his trunk, “I’ll ring up Wizard Blenkinsop and see if he can show me a way out.”
“Oh, splendid, sir,” said the Old Monkey.
Uncle went to the telephone and asked for Wizard Glen 88.
Blenkinsop replied at once, and Uncle explained the matter. The Wizard said that the best way was for them to come and see him and meanwhile he would think out a plan.
They decided to set out that very night, for Uncle felt he couldn’t sleep till something was settled.
They left Whitebeard weeping and swallowing pie and sandwiches in order to recover his strength.
FOUR
They Visit Wizard Blenkinsop
IT IS NOT very far to the Glen. They did not take the traction engine as the road there is very rough. It was coming on wet, so they wore mackintoshes. Uncle’s mackintosh is just a big tarpaulin that fits him like a haystack, but the Old Monkey has rather a smart, bright yellow one with a belt. It doesn’t suit him very well. It has such a huge collar that it makes his face look too small, and, as he was wearing an enormous yellow sou’wester as well, he seemed all mackintosh.
But they shuffled along. Uncle had some clips inside his mackintosh to hold one or two stone clubs; otherwise they didn’t take much.
It seems easy enough to get to the Glen, yet when you try it’s hard. You go by railway right through the castle, and get out at a little station called Cake Loop. Right in front of you is a signpost: TO WIZARD GLEN.
The road is good for the first few yards. Then it becomes very muddy, then very slippery, then full of round pebbles that turn under your feet. Then like jelly. They could see the Glen right in front, yet it took more than an hour to get there, and all the time it kept getting wetter and wetter. The rain was coming down like a river as they reached the entrance.
A downcast-looking man was sitting by a brazier. He was wearing three mackintoshes and an overcoat. He had a great drum of carbide by him. He kept casting lumps into the brazier, and they burnt in the rain. The more the rain came down, the bigger the flame, but it gave out a most atrocious smell.
“Who’s that?” he shouted in a dismal voice as Uncle came up. “I can’t see you.”
With these words he emptied half a drum of carbide into a puddle and lit it with a match. A great sickly-yellow flame sprang up and the smell became, if possible, worse.
“Oh, it’s Uncle,” he said at last. “I hardly knew you in that tarpaulin. And is that the Old Monkey? He looks just like a walking mackintosh. Well, push on, Blenkinsop’s expecting you, but you must be careful. It’s very wet further on!”
They passed him. It grew darker, and much wetter, and soon they reached a bend in the Glen where the thunder roared and the lightning flashed all the time. The ground was a foot deep in water and blue with electric flashes.
But all at once this changed, and they found themselves out of the storm. They looked back and saw behind them what looked like a wall of water blue with flares and roaring with explosions. Right in front of them was a black, square house with I. BLENKINSOP on the roof in letters of flame. By the side of the door was a brass plate which read:
I. BLENKINSOP – WIZARD
Branch Office at Sable Gulf
They rang the bell, and a sandy-haired boy came to the door.
“You want to see Mr Blenkinsop? Well, he’s just having his supper, but come into the office and I’ll ask him.”
The office was a very ordinary place, except that some of the chairs kept getting bigger and then smaller, and a great white cat was weighing parcels in a corner.
The cat seemed to take a fancy to the Old Monkey, and, seeing one of the parcels had come undone, took a piece of dried fish out of it and pushed it along the desk to him with a ruler.
“Put that fish back!” said a piercing voice.
The cat hastily began to wrap up the parcel again, but he soon stopped to write a hasty note to the Old Monkey: ‘He can see through walls!’
The Old Monkey shuddered.
Just then the young man came back and said:
“He says you can come in now.”
When they entered Blenkinsop’s office they found him sitting at a r
oll-top desk. He was a little man with cloudy eyes and wore old-fashioned breeches and stockings. He also took snuff, but he was quite up-to-date in his brand; for a tin of Gleamhound’s Paralysing Snuff (Anti-Burglar) stood on the table, and the Old Monkey could read on the label:
‘Simply throw one pinch into a burglar’s face. He immediately becomes helpless for hours.’
Blenkinsop took a refreshing pinch as they came in, and tossed his supper dishes into the mouth of a four-foot-high rubber frog that stood by his desk. The mouth immediately closed, and a swishing, washing-up sound followed.
“Now I am ready,” said Blenkinsop, “and as this is a regular consultation my charge is two guineas.”
Uncle took out the money and laid it on the table. “Thank you,” said Blenkinsop. “Now I will give you my opinion. This is a serious matter, and I have thought it out myself. The smaller difficulties I usually refer to my oracle machine!”
He pointed to a machine in the form of an iron statue.
“I use this a good deal,” said Blenkinsop. “It’s only five shillings for an opinion. You write the question on a card, put it into the statue’s hand, turn a handle at the back, and a typed answer comes out of the little door in front. Here are some ready for the post.”
Uncle took one of the cards, and read:
Question:
I cannot keep my eggs from going bad. Have tried water-glass, but at the end of ten years they are slightly musty. What shall I do?
Answer:
Place them in a wooden box smeared with lime juice. They will be fresh at the end of fifty years, but do not open them before that time or they may go stale suddenly.
Then another:
Question:
How can I be cured of baldness?
Answer:
Smear the head with water-resisting glue; and then sprinkle with chopped badger hair.
“Now I think,” said Blenkinsop, “that each of those answers is a good five bob’s worth! By the way, they should be posted. Where’s Goodman the cat? And my little instrument for seeing through walls? Oh, I say, the idle rotter! He’s watching a rathole!”
He gave a loud shout:
“Goodman!”
Goodman at once left the rat-hole and came into the office.
“How often have I told you: no mouse- or rat-catching during office hours!” said Blenkinsop.
“It was a huge rat,” said Goodman sulkily. “He was after the office paste!”
“That’s no excuse. You know you only do it for pleasure. Here, take these cards and post them, and be quick about it!”
The cat seemed unwilling to go.
“The post is right down the Glen,” he said, “and I shall get wet! And, besides, I’m working overtime for nothing! I reckon to stop at six. And I haven’t had that rise in wages. Three saucers a day is rotten pay. Rotten!”
“You shut up,” replied Blenkinsop, “or I’ll put a spell on you. Now be off to the post!”
“Can I lend him my mackintosh, Mr Blenkinsop?” asked the Old Monkey.
“If you want to,” said Blenkinsop, rather crossly.
They had great trouble in getting the mackintosh on to Goodman. It was far too big, and kept slipping. At last they bundled it on, and the cat, looking like a great waterproof parcel, started slowly down the Glen.
“Idle, slovenly, sleepy rascal!” said Blenkinsop.
Uncle said nothing, but he thought that the wizard was rather too hard on his employee, and this view was confirmed now that the cat had gone, because there was a joyful squeak, and the office became filled with great rats.
“Drive them out!” shouted Blenkinsop, furiously.
He ran in himself, striking right and left, but was not in time to prevent a grey-whiskered fellow from dragging a small parcel down his hole. Meanwhile the young man in the office, whose name was Walter Meal, was not lifting a finger to help. He was pretending to add up a column of figures, and had got them all wrong, as Uncle saw. He took no notice of the rat hunt.
They settled down after a while, and then Blenkinsop gave Uncle his opinion about Goatsby and the million pounds. It was this:
“Pay Goatsby, but pay him in pig iron and have it melted into a solid immovable mass in front of Badfort!”
Uncle was much struck by this idea. He would save his face by honouring his cheque, and Beaver Hateman and his gang would be scarcely any better off. A solid mass of iron could cost nearly as much to cut up as it was worth.
“What a brilliant idea!” he said. He was so pleased with it that he gave the wizard a big five-pound piece as well as the regular fee.
They were now ready to return home, but the Old Monkey had no mackintosh, so they had to wait.
At last they saw Goodman, the cat, coming slowly up the path. He looked a miserable object. His front paws were in mackintosh sleeves that dragged on the ground, but he hobbled on steadily.
“Did you post them?” said Blenkinsop.
“Well, sir, the pillar-box was under water, but there was an otter there who seemed a decent chap. He dived down to put them in.”
“You unspeakable ass!” shouted Blenkinsop. “They’ll all be spoiled! Look here, Goodman, you can clear out, and I’ll get another cat.”
The Old Monkey whispered to Uncle. He had often wished they had a cat, and he had taken a real liking to Goodman.
Uncle nodded. They were getting over-run with mice at Homeward, and Goodman would make a nice companion for the Old Monkey. Besides, he himself had taken rather a fancy to the strange creature.
So it was settled. Goodman had no mackintosh, but Uncle said that he could walk along inside his tarpaulin.
The wizard was not altogether pleased, but he was always changing his cats and a miserable little tabby had been round asking for work at low wages – two saucers a day. So perhaps he could try it for a time.
As for the cat Goodman, he was absolutely delighted, for the Old Monkey whispered to him that he’d get unlimited milk and fish, and that his boss was very kind to animals.
I must say that Goodman is a very interesting creature. He’s much larger than most cats, and very playful, though he looks grave and thoughtful. He told the Old Monkey that he thought he could help Uncle a lot because he could walk very quietly and find out things.
They got back rather late, and Uncle gave Goodman a can of milk that fairly took his breath away – about a gallon – and then told him that he could sleep by the hall fire, but he was to sleep very lightly, and keep listening. He would be allowed to doze a good deal during the day because Uncle wouldn’t have so much for him to do except wrapping up parcels and stamping letters. Goodman loves stamping letters. He licks the stamps as if he enjoyed the taste of the gum, and puts them all on straight.
“Right you are, sir!” replied the cat. “And I’ll tell you this. If a mouse or a rat so much as shows his nose in this hall, I pity him. He won’t do it twice. The whole bally crew will get the wind up. Let them show their noses, only their noses, at the hole, and they’ll think it’s the end of the world! There were a hundred great rats that banded themselves together once to try to do me in. They came in platoons down a place called Cheesy Hole. Do you think I cared? I did ’em in, I tell you, I did ’em in!”
“Don’t talk so much,” said Uncle, but he was secretly smiling a little.
“Right you are, sir,” said Goodman cheerfully. “I’ll have another saucer of milk. Three saucers a day, the wizard gave me, and nothing extra for overtime – carrying letters and parcels, and in my spare time – and I was also supposed to catch fish for Mr Blenkinsop!”
At last they turned in. Uncle slept well, for he thought he could see a way through the mesh of difficulties that surrounded him.
FIVE
The Big Casting
WHEN UNCLE CAME down the next morning the first thing he saw was the cat Goodman chasing a piece of brown paper round the room. The moment he saw Uncle, he straightened up and began to sort the letters. When Uncle sat down to brea
kfast, he found on his plate two fresh trout. Goodman had been out exploring and had caught them for him.
Goodman behaved very well at breakfast. He had a seat next to the Old Monkey, and he drank his milk like a gentleman. His only lapse from good manners was when Uncle gave him one of the fish. Then he rushed from his chair spinning the trout along the ground and pouncing on it. But Uncle excused that because Goodman was not used to sitting at the table, but usually drank from a saucer on the floor and looked for rats at the same time.
He only had one really bad habit. He loved to read the morning paper, and on this first morning he jumped on Uncle’s chair and tried to look over his shoulder. Uncle couldn’t stick that. He decided to order Goodman a paper of his own.
In any case, Uncle had little time to look at any paper. He had to push on with preparations for getting the million pounds’ worth of iron melted down in front of Badfort. He rang up Cowgill, and Cowgill thought it would be a big job, but said he believed he could manage it.
The difficulty was getting the iron there.
At last Uncle thought of a plan. There are a million dwarfs who are his tenants, and he decided to employ the lot for one day as carriers, and to let them off a week’s rent besides giving them a free feed of fish and rice.
That left Cowgill free to manage his hundreds of portable furnaces for the smelting. These arrangements took some time, but at about ten o’clock they were ready, and Uncle put on a specially rich gown of purple, and waited contentedly in the warm sunshine.
Soon there was a great rattling and clanging at Badfort. They had erected Goatsby’s statue just outside the front door, and crowds of Beaver Hateman’s friends were filing past it, singing and laughing.
Then they formed a procession and set out gaily to cash Uncle’s cheque for one million pounds.
In front was a cart drawn by the Wooden-Legged Donkey and the lean goat, Toothie, and sitting in the cart were Beaver Hateman in a new red sack suit, Nailrod, Sigismund Hateman, old Nailrod, Flabskin, and Oily Joe. They filled the cart to overflowing; in fact, Oily Joe and Flabskin sat on the ledge at the back and were always falling off.
