Enid Blyton (8 page)

He slipped a walking spell inside each of the boots, and then draped an old brown coat round it—it really did look most peculiar!

Sooty began to laugh. "I
must
come and watch!" he said. "I really must! Please let me, Master!"

"Well, I shall want you to pick up the boots, coat and hat when Sam bumps into Mr. Balloon and bursts him, pop!" said Mr. Pink-Whistle. "So you can come. First I'll walk along with the holly—then I'll tell the Wobbly-Man to do his bit—and then we'll set Mr. Balloon walking along on his magic boots!"

At four o'clock the next afternoon the Wobbly-Man, Mr. Pink-Whistle, Mr. Balloon and Sooty were all waiting for Sam. The children came out from school in a bunch that afternoon, because that was the only way they could stop Sam from bumping into them. He was too much of a coward to tackle a lot of children together.

Sam was cross. Blow! Wouldn't some child run home alone? Well, he would hide and see. So, as usual, he slipped into a doorway and watched.

The children ran down the street—and then, when there was nobody there, Sooty whispered to Pink-Whistle.

"Now's the time to begin, Master—I can see Sam watching from that doorway."

Mr. Pink-Whistle slipped out of his hiding-place and began to walk down the dark street. Sam saw him—and thought he was a child, because Pink-Whistle was small. He raced out of the doorway and ran behind Pink-Whistle. Just as he was about to bump him, Pink-Whistle swung round with his armful of holly!

"Ooooooh! Ow!" yelled Sam, finding his face and hands pricked with the sharp holly. "What is it? Oooh, I'm hurt!"

He stopped to nurse his hands and feel his face. Whatever had that child been carrying? Then he saw the Wobbly-Man coming along. At least, he could just make out someone waddling towards him—who was it? Ah, perhaps it was old Fatty, who was in the form above him! Sam grinned.

He rushed at the Wobbly-Man and gave him an enormous bump. The Wobbly-Man wobbled over sideways and then wobbled back so violently that he gave Sam a sharp knock that nearly sent
him
flying! Sam was most surprised—and very angry.

"Don't you dare to fight
me!"
he said. "I'll shove you right over, see?"

And he gave the Wobbly-Man another tremendous push that made him wobble to and fro very fast indeed.

Sam watched him, a sturdy wobbling shadow in the dark street. Why didn't Fatty fall over? He pushed hard again, but all he could do was to make the Wobbly-Man wobble faster and faster.

"You're not Fatty!" cried Sam, suddenly frightened. "You're not!

Who are you? I don't like you. Stop wobbling, do stop wobbling. I won't push you again, I promise."

But, of course, the Wobbly-Man had to wobble, no matter where he went, and Sam watched him wobble away into the darkness, wondering whatever he was.

"Funny!" said Sam to himself. "Very, very funny. Most peculiar.

Anyone would think that that fellow couldn't walk, the way he wobbles as he goes. I don't like it. I'll just give someone else a good shove, and I'll go home."

So he waited. The next person that came down the dark street was a tall man. Sam didn't dare to run and bump into him—no, tall men had a habit of reaching out and giving him a jolly good shake!

Ah—here was someone coming—someone short, with a silly top-hat on his head. Sam grinned. Whoever it was that was coming was walking very near the holly hedge—it would be fun to push him right into it. Let someone else feel what it was like to be pricked all over! Sam's hands were still sore with the scratches they had had.

Of course, it was Mr. Balloon this time! Pink-Whistle had set the spell going in the boots, and the long-shaped balloon, dressed in old top-hat, old coat and boots was now walking down the street.

"It's just a silly old tramp," said Sam, catching sight of him in the light of a lamp. "I'll give him such a shock—one of my very BEST BUMPS!"

So he ran from the doorway where he stood and bumped into the Balloon-Man. He shoved him hard against the holly hedge—and all the prickles ran into the balloon. BANG!

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at where the old tramp had just stood—but he had completely disappeared! Sam couldn't see the top-hat, boots and coat lying in a little heap half-under the hedge.

"Ooooh! He's gone! He went BANG and disappeared!" howled Sam.

"What have I done? What's happened! Help! Help!"

The Wobbly-Man, who had wobbled back on the other side of the road, and had joined up with Pink-Whistle again, laughed till he cried.

Pink-Whistle laughed too, and Sooty ran to collect the hat, boots and coat.

Other children heard Sam's calls for help and ran up to him. "What's the matter? What's up?"

"I bumped into somebody and got pricked ail over, look!" said Sam, and he was actually crying! "And then I bumped into somebody else, and he wobbled over and wobbled back and hit me—he was horrid! And then I bumped into a silly old tramp with a top-hat—and he went BANG and disappeared. I'm frightened!"

"Serves you right," said a small boy. "Now all you want is someone to bump into
you,
and you probably wouldn't EVER shove people about again!"

The children went off together, grinning. They didn't feel in the least sorry for Sam—it would teach him a lesson!

Sam went down the street too, sniffling miserably. He didn't mean to bump into anyone else he met that evening! What with pricks and wobbles and bangs, he had had quite enough.

Someone padded behind him. Someone soft bumped violently into him! Over went Sam and rolled into the same patch of mud into which he had bumped so many others. He sat up and yelled.

"Sooty!" said Pink-Whistle's voice. "Sooty—you shouldn't have bumped into him like that—you really shouldn't. Look how muddy he is!"

"I couldn't help it!" said Sooty. "Honestly, Master, he'll NEVER bump anyone again!'

Booty's right—and do you know, when the children heard all about Sam's queer adventures the next day, one boy looked very wise, and said:—

"It rather sounds as if old Mr. Pink-Whistle was around last night, Sam. You'd better be careful!

Now, however did he guess?

MR. PINK-WHISTLE GETS 
A LETTER

ONE day a letter popped through Mr. Pink-Whistle's letter-box.

Sooty the cat picked it up and took it to his master. "A letter for you, Master—marked URGENT," said Sooty. "Ah," said Pink-Whistle. "It looks as if it is from a child—so it certainly
is
urgent."

He opened the letter and read it out aloud to Sooty:

"Dear Mr. Pink-Whistle:

"I do hope this gets to you. I'm a little girl called Katy, and I live with my mother. We haven't much money, but we have a nice lot of hens, and they lay eggs, which we sell.

"But somebody comes and takes the eggs. We don't know who it is, but it is very serious for us because we do need the money we get for the eggs. We hardly have any to take to market now.

"You go about the world putting wrong things right, dear Mr. Pink-Whistle. Do you think you can put
this
right?

"Your loving friend, KATY."

"PS.—I know about you because of the stories I've read."

"What a nice little girl she sounds!" said Sooty. "Will you help her, Master?"

"Of course!" said Pink-Whistle. "I'll go along this very day. Look up a bus to—let me see, what's the address—Tipkin-on-the-Hill. I've never been there before."

Sooty went off to get the bus time-table, and soon Mr. Pink-Whistle had discovered the bus that went to Tipkin-on-the-Hill. He put on his hat, said goodbye to Sooty, and set off. Nobody took much notice of the funny little man on the bus, except two children who noticed his pointed ears and green eyes.

SOOTY WENT OFF TO GET THE BUS TIME-TABLE.

"He's like Mr. Pink-Whistle!" whispered one to the other. "Oh—suppose he
is!"

Mr. Pink-Whistle didn't say a word, he just twinkled at them. Then he suddenly made himself invisible—and the two girls stared at his empty seat in surprise. They didn't know that he had got up very quietly, tiptoed to them, and slipped big bars of chocolate into their school-bags! How exactly like Mr. Pink-Whistle to do a thing like that.

When he got to Tipkin-on-the-Hill he went to find Katy. She was feeding the hens, and they were clucking round her—cluck-cluck-luck-luck-cluck. Cluck-cluck-luck-luck—cluck! Then the cock stood up straight and crowed. He had suddenly seen Mr. Pink-Whistle, and he knew him.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo! We're pleased to welcome YOU! Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

"Good morning, Katy," said Pink-Whistle, and the little girl swung round at once. She stared in delight.

"Oh! You've come! Oh, you really
are
Mr. Pink-Whistle, aren't you?" said Katy.

"Yes, I really am," he said. "I'm sorry to hear of your trouble. Tell me about it."

Katy told him. "Somebody comes and takes the eggs at night—and often in the daytime, too! Our cottage is lonely, as you see—and when I'm at school and Mummy is at work, anyone can slip in here and steal the eggs."

"I'll find out who it is," said Pink-Whistle. "Don't you worry any more. Are your hens laying well?"

"Not very," said Katy. "So we can't spare the ones that are stolen!

Oh, Mr. Pink-Whistle, fancy
really
seeing you! I never, never thought you really
would
come!"

"I can't
always
come when people are in trouble," said Pink-Whistle.

"But I happened to have nothing much to do to-day. Now— isn't it time you were off to school?"

"Yes, it is," said Katy. "I shan't tell anyone at school about you, Mr. Pink-Whistle, or they'll all be out here to see you—and you'd never be able to find out who the thief is. But I don't know HOW I'm going to keep such a wonderful secret!"

She ran off to school and left Mr. Pink-Whistle in the hen-run. He turned to the hens and the big, beautiful cock. "Cluck-luck-luck!" he said, speaking the language of the chickens. "It's my belief you know the thief.

Cock-a-doodle-doo, tell me who—who—who!"

The chickens all talked back at once, clucking and cackling loudly.

Mr. Pink-Whistle nodded. "Thank you, I'll give him such a fright!"

The little man went into the hen-house and shut the door. He made himself quite invisible, sat down in the corner and waited. Nobody was about at all. Katy's mother was still out at work and Katy was at school.

The hens clucked and cackled together in the run outside. Then suddenly the cock crowed loudly, and Mr. Pink-Whistle listened.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo, a visitor for
you!"
Then the door of the hen-house opened and someone crept in. It was quite a shock to Mr. Pink-Whistle to see the thief so well-dressed—he had expected someone down-at-heel and ragged.

"So this is Mr. James Pinch, the thief," thought Pink-Whistle, watching the smart-looking young man as he went to the nesting-boxes one after another and took the eggs there. He slipped them into his big pockets, and then crept out again. Pink-Whistle followed silently.

Mr. Pinch went to a big house and in at the kitchen entrance. Pink-Whistle followed. The man came to a woman in a big white apron, who was bending over a great stove.

"Here you are, Cookie," said the young man, and he handed her out the two dozen eggs or so that he had in his pockets. 

"That's ten shillings, please. All new-laid! I bought them in the market."

Dear, dear—what a story-teller! Pink-Whistle shook his head and made up his mind that this young man wanted a shock. And Pink-Whistle would give him one—oh, yes, a very peculiar shock that would teach him a lesson, too!

Mr. James Pinch went off to his room to change into his uniform. He was a footman and waited at the table of Lord and Lady High-Up. Pink-Whistle went with him, and sat on his bed, quite invisible, while he changed his clothes.

"Cluck-luck-luck!" said Pink-Whistle, sounding exactly like a hen. ''
Cackle-cackle-squawk!
''

The young man was extremely startled. He jumped and looked round.

"Cackle, cackle, cackle," said Pink-Whistle, exactly as if he laid an egg and was proud of it.