The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles (14 page)

FIVE

"You surprise me," he said. "I didn't think you'd make it." He noticed the Whiffle Bird in Tom's arms. "What's the matter with her?"

Ben said, "She's hurt. She tried to save us and the Gyascutus knocked her down."

The Prock looked dreadfully concerned and took a step forward. Tom clutched the bird protectively.

"Come along, boy," the Prock snapped. "Give the Whiffle Bird to me."

"Not on your life, you big bully," Tom whispered fiercely.

"Oh! This is really too much!" The Prock stamped a long, thin foot in annoyance. "Do you realize the trouble you have caused? This is all your fault—the first accident we've had in the kingdom for a century. If you hadn't been here, none of this would have happened. You're an absolute menace."

Tom was so angry that he yelled at the towering Prock, "Our fault, is it? Well, that's a stupid remark.

Who sent that . . . that monster out there to attack us? Who tipped off the Gazooks and then Sidewinders and the Swamp Gaboons? Who arranged to have Lindy captured by the Splintercat? It was all
your
fault."

The boy choked with emotion as he looked down at the feathered bundle lying so still in his arms. "If she doesn't get better, if she dies, I'll never forgive you. Never."

The Prock looked at Tom intently. Then he said in a quieter voice, "I suggest you give the bird to me. We know how to take care of her. She will be all right, I promise you."

Tom hesitated.

Ben said, "Do as he says, Tom."

The Prock clapped his hands together. "Guard," he called.

A large Sidewinder came trundling around the corner. It looked very startled at the sight of the children. Lindy gave a squeal of fear.

"You will not be harmed," the Prock reassured her. He took the Whiffle Bird from Tom. She was whimpering with genuine pain and sounded very different from the brave bird who had pretended such agony in front of the Splintercat.

"You're sure she'll be all right?" the boy asked
anxiously. "You know, she was trying to save me when she got hurt." He touched her gently in farewell.

"We will do our best," the Prock replied gravely. He handed the bird to the Sidewinder, who walked quickly away.

"Now, tell me about your friend, the professor," the Prock said. "Why is he not with you?"

"He just couldn't get here," Lindy answered. "He was so tired and he couldn't see the bridge."

"It was too much for him," explained Ben. "He would've been all right if it hadn't been for all the things you put in our way."

"He hasn't really been feeling well since we jumped off
The Brainstrain,"
growled Tom. "That's when it started."

"He told us to come on by ourselves," said Lindy. "He said he was sure the Whangdoodle would understand and would see us."

"I see." The Prock looked thoughtful and there seemed to be a trace of disappointment in his voice. Then his expression changed and he said briskly, "Well, I'm sorry, but this is the end of your journey. I can tell you now that the Whangdoodle will not receive you. You might just as well turn around, find your professor and go home."

"Oh, don't say that!" Ben cried desperately. Tom said, "We promised the professor that we would speak to the Whangdoodle."

"I've got to give him his regards," added Lindy tearfully.

"There's nothing I can do," said the Prock firmly and he began to usher them towards the gates. The children hung back.

Tom had never felt so depressed. "I want to wait and see if the Whiffle Bird is going to be all right."

Huge tears rolled down Lindy's face. "We've worked so hard. It just can't end like this. Isn't there something you can do?"

The Prock was shaking his head. "I'm afraid not. . . . You see . . ." But he didn't finish, for with a sob Lindy rushed to his side and flung her arms around him.

"Oh, please,
please,"
she begged, and buried her face in his thick, baggy sweater. She wept as if her heart would break.

The Prock knelt beside her. He was distinctly uncomfortable. "Now, Miss Lindy. You mustn't cry. I can't stand to see people cry."

Lindy's hands stole up around his neck and she clung to him tightly. He was red in the face and covered with confusion.

Ben and Tom looked at each other.

"It's okay, Lindy," Ben said gently. "I guess it'll have to be like the professor says. Every once in a while people fail in spite of trying. He'll understand."

"But I don't understand," she wailed. "At home, if somebody tried hard and really, really wanted to see the President, then they could."

She gazed imploringly at the Prock. "Dear Prock, couldn't you just this once forget about being in charge and that sort of thing? Couldn't you speak to the Whangdoodle for us? I want to see him more than anything in the whole world."

The Prock hesitated. He looked at the boys and looked back at Lindy. He touched her tearstained face.

"Oh, you human beings," he said with feeling. "When will I ever learn?" He rubbed Lindy's cheek with the sleeve of his sweater. "Come along. I can see there's only one way to get any peace around here, and that's to let you meet the Whangdoodle."

Lindy hugged him with all her stren
gth.

Tom and Ben could not believe the sudden turn of events.

"All right, all right." The Prock waved away their thanks. Taking Lindy's hand, he said, "Come along, Miss Lindy, but for pity's sake try not to cry any more. It gets me all emotional and I start to itch."

He led them across the courtyard and under another archway, past two sentry Sidewinders standing rigidly at attention. The children gave them a wide berth.

The palace was more beautiful than they had ever imagined. There were crystal courtyards with bright mosaic floors; others were grassy, with wildflower borders, and contained sparkling fountains or tranquil pools with ambrosia blossoms floating on the milk-white water. The trees were magnificent and there were flowers such as the children had never seen before. Flutterbyes were everywhere.

There was a cool breeze and the scent of honeysuckle was strong and heady. Wind chimes made sweet music.

The Prock walked quickly down a long, vaulted passageway, and paused in front of a wrought-silver door. `Wait for me here," he said and went inside.

Ben, Tom and Lindy looked at each other, their hearts pounding with excitement. The boys straightened their hair and Lindy smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes.

She said longingly, "I
wish
the professor were here."

"We must remember every detail for him," Ben declared solemnly.

The silver door opened and the Prock emerged. "You may come in now," he said quietly. "When
you meet the Whangdoodle, you must address him as 'Your Majesty.' Don't talk too much and don't get bouncy with excitement, because the Whangdoodle seldom has company and is not used to it. Remove your hats, and give them to me. Always go bareheaded in front of royalty. It shows respect."

The children took off their scrappy caps and gave them to the Prock. He held open the door and as they walked past him he announced in a clear voice, "The Potter children, Your Majesty. Benjamin, Thomas and Melinda." He closed the door behind them.

They were in a cool, high-ceilinged room. It was white, with tall windows through which the sunlight fell onto a polished marble floor. The room was sparsely furnished. There was a long table bearing some choice pieces of silver, and a large, richly covered chair which was framed by a beautiful tapestry that hung on the wall behind it.

There was no one in the room. The children waited. The silence lengthened. Tom coughed and a hollow echo came from the high ceiling.

Quite suddenly a cheerful voice said, "Well, I must say, you humans have changed a bit since the old days."

The children jumped with alarm and found themselves witnessing an amazing sight. Two eyes and a very large pair of antlers began to materialize from the tapestry, followed by the mooselike head that bore them. Next came four rather short legs attached to a round, barrel
-
like body. The children watched in wonder as the Whangdoodle crossed to his throne and sat down, nonchalantly folding his front legs across his chest, and crossing one back leg over the other.

"Don't look so surprised." His voice was deep and he spoke with an engaging lisp. "I was playing it safe. Didn't want you to see me before I'd had a peek at you, so I changed myself into the colors of the tapestry."

The Whangdoodle was truly an extraordinary creature.

He was the size of a small pony. His face was big and friendly with large brown eyes and long, fair eyelashes. His eyebrows were arched, giving him a constant look of surprise. His muzzle looked soft as velvet and when he grinned he displayed strong horse
-
like teeth which protruded over his lips. His antlers were amazingly large and very handsome. He held his head proudly, in keeping with his generally regal air. His body was a warm, grey-brown color and his small, rather thin tail was fashioned into a love knot. On his
hind feet he wore a pair of old
pink knitted bedroom slippers with floppy tassels.

Ben remembered the Prock's instructions. "Your Majesty, thank you for allowing us to see you."

"Hmm. The Prock tells me you've given him a lot of trouble. I didn't want to see you. Not at first. Then, I confess that I did feel some slight desire to make contact again after all these years. I do get lonely. Not that I mind, and I wouldn't go back. Not ever. Even if you begged and pleaded. Humans can't be trusted. Have a piece of wodge." He held out a large box of candy.

The children hesitated.

"Come on, you must be starving. I'm sure you haven't eaten for ages."

They hungrily accepted the delicious sweets.

"Aren't they good?" The Whangdoodle munched one happily. "This is my favorite kind. I have a very sweet tooth, you know. Would you like to see it?" he asked Lindy.

"Oh. Yes, thank you, Your Majesty."

The Whangdoodle grinned. "It's this one here," he said, indicating it with his tongue. "See the little daisy on it?"

"Why, that is a sweet tooth," Lindy said in surprise.

"Thought you'
d like it. All Whangdoodles are
born with one, you know." A shadow passed over his brow. "At least they used to be," he added sadly. He helped himself to another piece of wodge.

"As I was saying. You look different from the children I used to know. Cleaner, neater, taller. Are you an exception, or do all children look like you?"

Tom answered, "I don't think we're different from other children, Your Majesty."

"How is your world these days? The Prock never tells me anything because he doesn't want to upset me. Do you still use that barbaric rack and boiling oil on your enemies? Do you still fight over territory and so on?"

"We still have wars, Your Majesty, if that's what you mean," Ben replied.

The Whangdoodle looked depressed. "Thought so. It didn't seem as though things were going to change much when I left." He began to turn blue.

Lindy said, "Your Majesty, you're changing color."

"Am I?" He looked at his stomach. "So I am. I do it without thinking, you know."

"Can you really turn any color you want?" asked Ben.

"Yes, I can turn plaid if I want to. But that's a hard one."

"What's the hardest color of all to do?" Lindy inquired.

"Oh . . . I would say Flange."

"What's Flange?" Tom chuckled.

"It's nothing to laugh about, young man. It's every color of the rainbow, all at once. I seldom manage that one. Mind you, Omnipresent Blue is pretty tough as well. And Crash Pink."

"Is that pretty?" asked Lindy.

"It's stunning, absolutely stunning," replied the Whangdoodle.

"Harder than plaid?"

"Oh . . . ten
times harder. Or is it eleven?"

"Lilac is my favorite color," Lindy told him.

"Is it, now. Well, allow me the honor." The Whangdoodle slowly turned the most beautiful shade of lilac that Lindy had ever seen.

"That's lovely. Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Not at all. Have some more wodge."

The Whangdoodle suddenly winced. "Oh dear, my poor feet. I know it's rather informal, but would you mind if I put them up for a while? I'm due for a new pair of slippers, you see, and right now my feet are
killing
me."

Ben said, "Oh, don't worry about us, Your Majesty. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"You could pass me that footstool over there."

Ben fetched it and placed it in front of the throne.

"Ahh. That's better." The Whangdoodle stretched his legs and smiled with relief. "Now, explain something to me. I was told that there were four of you in the expeditionary party, that your guide was Professor somebody-or-other. He's been seen poking about the country a lot. Why isn't he here?"

Taking turns, the children told the Whangdoodle all about the professor, from the day they had met him at the zoo to their sad parting at the bridge.

The Whangdoodle looked thoughtful. "Well, I must say, it's a pity your friend couldn't make it. I hoped I might get a moment to chat with him. I fancy we'd have a lot in common, and good conversation is hard to come by these days. It's very quiet here, you know, and I don't have a wife. Sad, that. I don't have anyone to carry on the family name. Makes me very blue sometimes. Pale blue." He changed back to the appropriate color.

Lindy said, "You'd like the professor, Your Majesty. He's the nicest person in the whole world next to Mummy and Daddy. Is there any way you could help him get here? He wants to meet you so very badly."

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do. He had exactly the same chance as you. You saw the bridge.

He didn't. I can't provide him with a new imagination, can I?"

"I'm not sure he did have the same chance," Tom said. "Remember, he had to outguess and outsmart every creature in the land to help us. He gave so much of himself—it's no wonder he couldn't concentrate at the end."

"Yes, I understand that and I admire the fellow." The Whangdoodle nodded solemnly.

Ben had a sudden inspiration. "How about if you came back with us across the bridge? You could meet the professor that way."

The Whangdoodle shook his head. "Impossible. If your friend can't see the bridge, then I doubt that he'd be able to see me. That's a simple, undeniable fact."

There was a moment's silence in the beautiful white room, then Lindy said in her clear, practical voice, "You know, the really sad thing about all this is that if the professor
could
have come here, he probably would have made you another Whangdoodle."

The Whangdoodle looked at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Then he carefully said, "Would you mind explaining that last statement, young lady?"

"Well, you see, he's a professor of genetics. You know, he can make life. He told us he
could." She
gave a matter-of-fact wave of her hand. "If he can make life, he can make a Whangdoodle, wouldn't you say?"

The Whangdoodle looked at the boys. "Is she talking sense?"

"He did tell us that the secret of life had been discovered, Your Majesty," said Ben.

"He told us that we had a great responsibility on our hands," added Tom.

"I would say so," replied the Whangdoodle, raising his eyebrows. He looked stunned. "Well, well, well. What an incredible fellow your professor must be. It is indeed a shame that we could not meet."

Lindy said, "He could be rested, by now. If we helped him he might just make it across the bridge."

"It really doesn't seem right to be here without him," remarked Tom.

The Whangdoodle suddenly straightened in his chair. "PROCK!" he yelled and clapped his front hooves together.

The Prock entered the room. "Your Majesty?"

"Come here, old fellow. Something rather interesting has come up. Excuse me, Potters. Just for a moment."

The Whangdoodle got up and limped with the Prock to one of the tall windows, where they stood in quiet, close conversation.

Lindy tugged at Ben's sleeve. "What do you suppose is going to happen?" she whispered.

"I don't know. Wouldn't it be great if the professor could somehow get here after all?"

"Oh, gosh. M
y stomach just went all funny."