Читать книгу The Mystery of the Vanished Prince - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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The ice-cream man was lying on the river bank, fast asleep, his tricycle-van pulled back into the shade. Fatty woke him.

He sat up, amazed at the brilliant group around him, topped by the huge umbrella held by Ern, who was now getting a little tired of its weight.

“What’s all this?” said the ice-cream man. “Charades or something?”

Ern opened his mouth to introduce the Princess Bongawee, but Fatty frowned at him. He didn’t want the joke to go too far—and he had an uneasy feeling that the ice-cream man wouldn’t be taken in quite as easily as some people. It wouldn’t do to spoil the joke for Ern. Ern, Sid, and Perce were in the seventh heaven of delight to think they had gone walking with a princess and her followers.

“Nine ice-creams, please,” said Fatty. Ern corrected him.

“Eight, you mean,” he said.

“You’ve forgotten Buster,” said Fatty.

“Coo, yes,” said Ern, suddenly remembering that Buster too loved ice-cream. Buster had been as good as gold, following the procession solemnly, and hadn’t even been to say how-do-you-do to any dogs he met.

The ice-cream man handed out the ice-creams, making a few more remarks as he did so.

“Pouring with rain, isn’t it?” he said to Ern, who was still valiantly holding the umbrella over Bets. “Just as well not to get wet.”

“Funny, aren’t you?” said Ern.

“Not so funny as you look,” said the ice-cream man. “Where’d you get that umbrella? Out of a cracker?”

“Ha—that’s where you came from, I s’pose,” said Ern, at once. “Bang—and out of a cracker you fell!”

“That’s enough, Ern,” said Fatty, hastily, seeing a storm about to blow up between the ice-cream man and Ern. “Come on—let’s take our ice-creams a bit farther down the path, where it’s cooler.”

The ice-cream man remarked that he knew where he could get Ern a clown’s hat to go with his umbrella, but Ern was not allowed to reply. Fatty hustled him away, and his umbrella caught in the low-swinging branches of a tree. Bets had to stand still while poor Ern struggled to release it, his ears burning at a few more remarks from the witty ice-cream man.

They went on at last again, holding the freezing ice-cream cartons in their hands. Sid had one too, and every one was curious to see how he could manage to eat an ice-cream with his mouth still full of toffee. His toffee slab seemed unending. So far as any one knew he still had the same piece in his mouth.

And then some one came cycling round the corner of the path—some one burly and red-faced, with a dark-blue uniform and helmet.

“It’s Uncle!” gasped Ern, in a panic.

“Goon!” said Fatty. “Old Clear-Orf! Well, well—this is going to be funny!”

Buster recognized Goon with delight. He tore up to his bicycle and jumped at his feet. Goon got off at once and kicked out at the excited little Scottie.

“Clear-Orf!” he said, angrily. “Here, you, call this dog orf, or I’ll kick him into the river. Proper little pest, he is.”

“Hallo, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty, politely. “I haven’t seen you for a very long time. Come here, Buster. Heel, sir, heel!”

Buster ran to Fatty reluctantly, and Mr. Goon had time to take in the whole group. He gaped. What a lot of foreigners—and Ern with them. Ern! He didn’t even know Ern was in the district. He advanced on Ern, who almost dropped the huge umbrella he was still holding.

“Ern! What you doing here?” thundered Mr. Goon. “And bless me, if it isn’t Sid and Perce too! What’s all this about? And what’s the umbrella for?”

“Uncle! Don’t shout like that,” begged Ern. “This is a princess here, and that’s why I’m holding an umbrella over her. It’s a State Umbrella. Don’t you know one when you see one?”

Mr. Goon didn’t even know a golf umbrella when he saw one, much less a State one. He stared at Ern disbelievingly. Ern went on in an urgent voice.

“Uncle, you’ve heard of Prince Bongawah, who’s staying in one of the camps, up on the hills over there, haven’t you? Well, this is his sister, Princess Bongawee—and that’s her cousin—and ...”

Goon was amazed. He looked at Bets, wrapped closely and gracefully in her robes, the hood partly drawn across her sunburnt face. Her face seemed faintly familiar to him, but he didn’t for one moment think of Bets Hilton. She stood there rather haughtily, a little scared, without saying a single word.

Goon cleared his throat. He looked at Fatty, who said nothing. “They were visiting Fatty,” explained Ern. “And of course, I told them about Prince Bongawah, who’s camping in the field next to us, Uncle—and I’d have known this princess was his sister—they’re as like as two peas.”

“But how did you come to be mixed up with them?” asked Goon, suspiciously.

“Your nephew, Ern, came to pay a call on us, that’s all, Mr. Goon,” said Fatty, delighted that Ern should be telling Mr. Goon such a marvellous tale. “And the Princess Bongawee liked Ern, and requested him to hold her—er—her State Umbrella over her. And Ern’s good manners are well known—so here he is.”

Mr. Goon had never had any opinion of Ern’s manners at all. He considered that Ern had none. He stared first at Ern, then at the haughty little Princess, and then at Fatty. Fatty stared back unwinkingly.

“She a real Princess?” asked Mr. Goon, in a confidential aside to Fatty. Before Fatty could answer, Bets spoke in a high little insolent voice that amused Fatty immensely.

“Ikky-oola-potty-wickle-tok,” she said.

“What’s she say?” asked Goon with interest.

“She wants to know if you’re a real policeman,” said Fatty, promptly. “What shall I tell her?”

Mr. Goon glared at him. Bets interrupted again. “Ribbly-rookatee, paddly-pool,” she said.

“What does that mean?” asked Mr. Goon. Fatty put on an embarrassed look.

“I don’t like to tell you, Mr. Goon,” he said.

“Why? What’s it matter?” said the policeman, curious.

“Well—it’s rather a personal remark,” said Fatty. “No—I don’t really think I can tell you, Mr. Goon.”

“Go on—you tell me,” said Goon, getting angry.

“Yes—you tell him,” said Ern, delighted at the idea of the Princess saying something rude about his uncle.

“Ar,” put in Sid, unexpectedly. Goon turned on him at once.

“What you interfering for? And what do you mean by standing there with your mouth full in front of royalty? Go and empty your mouth!”

“Ar,” said Sid, in panic.

“It’s toffee, Uncle,” said Ern. “Stick-me-tight toffee. It can’t be spit out.”

Bets went off into a peal of laughter. Then she hurriedly spoke a few more words. “Wonge-bonga-smelly-fiddly-tok.”

“There she goes again,” said poor Goon. “You tell me what she said then, Master Frederick.”

“I can’t possibly,” persisted Fatty, making Goon feel so curious that he could hardly contain himself. His face began to go purple, and his eyes bulged a little. He stared at the little Princess, who giggled again.

“I only say—why he got Frog face!” said Bets, in a very foreign voice. Everyone immediately exploded, with the exception of poor Sid who couldn’t get his mouth open.

Mr. Goon exploded too, but in a different way. He was very angry. He took a step forward and Ern instinctively lowered the umbrella and put its vast circle just in front of Mr. Goon’s nose.

“Don’t you hurt the Princess, Uncle,” came Ern’s quavering voice from behind the huge umbrella. Then Buster joined in the fun again, and flew at Mr. Goon’s ankles, snapping very deftly at the bicycle clips that held his trousers tightly round his legs.

Mr. Goon roared in anger. “I’ll report that dog! I’ll report you too, Ern—trying to stick that umbrella into me!”

“Mr. Goon, I hope you won’t upset the relations of the British with the Tetaruans,” said Fatty, solemnly. “We don’t want the Prince of Tetarua complaining that you have frightened his sister. After all, Tetarua is a friendly State. If the Prime Minister had an incident like this reported to him by an angry Prince, there might be ...”

Mr. Goon didn’t stay to listen to any more. He knew when he was defeated. He didn’t know anything about the Tetaruans, but he did know that little States were very touchy nowadays, and he was rather horrified to hear what Fatty said. He got on his bicycle, aimed a last kick at Buster, and sailed away in a purple dignity.

“I’ll have something more to say to you, young Ern,” he shouted, as he pedalled past, with Buster at his back-wheel, making him wobble almost into the river. “I’ll come up to your camp, you see if I don’t!”

He left Ern petrified by his threat, but still valiantly holding the umbrella. Every one collapsed weakly on the grass, and even Sid managed to open his mouth wide enough to let out a sudden guffaw.

“Our poor ice-creams,” said Bets, suddenly relapsing into English, and looking at the ice-cream in her carton. It was like custard. Nobody noticed she was speaking English except Fatty, who gave her a little frown.

They licked up their ice-creams with difficulty. Sid managed to pour his somehow into his mouth, between his stuck teeth. Fatty grinned round.

“A most creditable performance!” he said. “Princess, my congratulations!”

“Binga-bonga-banga,” said Bets, graciously.

“What about fresh ice-creams?” said Fatty. But Ern, Perce, and Sid couldn’t stay. Ern had heard the church clock striking twelve, and as he had been promised a camp dinner by the caravanners next to his tent, if he got back at half-past twelve, he felt impelled to go.

He bowed most politely to Bets, and handed the State Umbrella to Fatty. “Pleased to have met you,” said Ern. “I’ll tell your brother about you when next I see him over the hedge. Like as peas in a pod, you are!”

Sid and Perce nodded a good-bye, and then they all went off to get the ferry across the river to the hills on the other side.

“Thank goodness we can talk properly again,” said Larry. “My word, Fatty—what a morning! I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much!”