Читать книгу Meerkat Madness - Ian Whybrow, Tony Ross - Страница 8

Chapter 1

There was nothing Uncle liked better than to talk about his Glory Days.

He cleared his throat importantly. “Harrumph! This story is called ‘The Adventures of Bold King Fearless Among the Blah-blah Tribes’,” he announced.

As usual, the kits asked, “Why are they called Blah-blahs, Uncle?”

And as usual he laughed and said, “Because of the funny calls they make to each other, of course! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!”

The kits laughed and squirmed happily. Little Dream picked a fat flea off his sister and nibbled it thoughtfully while he listened.

“Now, once upon a suntime,” said Uncle, “I left the safety of Far Burrow where I lived, at the far edge of the Land of the Sharpeyes, and set off to explore the Upworld. I wanted to travel and to learn all I could about my kingdom. At first the rest of the tribe insisted that I took bodyguards with me. I was very precious to them, don’t you know!”

“Like me. I’m precious!” Mimi piped up.

“Don’t interrupt,” said Uncle, holding up a paw in the darkness.

“Why did you need bodyguards?” asked Little Dream.

“Ah, because of the dangers!” said Uncle. “Because of the enemies that lurk in every hollow in the sand and under every thorn bush!”

“Oh dear,” sighed Little Dream.

“Don’t forget The Silent Enemy in the sky,” added Mimi, who liked to show how clever she was. Uncle gave a trembling twitch and a gasp and she got a sharp nudge in the ribs from Skeema. “Sorry, Uncle!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Uncle Fearless took another deep breath to pull himself together. “N-never mind. No harm done,” he murmured. It took him a while to calm down, but pretty soon he was happily showing off again. “As I have often told you, it is the meerkat way to stand by one another,” he said. “But your old Uncle was not afraid. Oh no, I was young and keen! I said to my subjects, I said: ‘I am the greatest of all the Sharpeyes! Do you imagine that I am not brave enough or wise enough to explore my own kingdom by myself from time to time if I wish?’ And so I ventured out alone, something that you kits must never, never do. Soon I had marked every corner where a kat can sniff! I discovered all there was to know out there among the sizzlingly hot Salt Pans at the far end of the kingdom. And do you know the most interesting thing that I discovered?”

“The pointy mounds!” cried the kits together. They liked this bit. “Where the funny Blah-blahs live . . . IN THE AIR ABOVE THE GROUND!”

“Exactly!” cried Uncle. “The Blah-blahs build hollow, pointy mounds, quite close together on TOP of the sand, what-what! Each mound is a burrow for a small tribe. Each mound is taller than a thorn tree; pointy at the top and much wider at the bottom. And do you know,” Uncle went on, letting them into the secret, “there’s no strength in those mounds at all. The walls are so thin that they ripple in the wind! Isn’t that ridiculous? A jackal could tear through those walls in two bites!”

“Ah, but the Blah-blahs are bigger and stronger than us, aren’t they, Uncle Fearless?” put in Skeema.

“Oh, yes!” said Uncle. “They’re giants. But in many ways they are just like us, only much funnier – and MUCH more charming and cute. I came across several tribes in my travels. Now, who do you want me to tell you about? The Oolooks who always jump up and down when they see a rhino or a giraffe and call oolook-oolook! Or would you like to hear about the Whevubins that are always dashing about calling hurryupp-hurryupp! when they can’t find their young. And when they do find them again, they chase them up and down calling whevubin- whevubin!

Little Dream took his thumb out of his mouth and said wetly, “Click-clicks. Say about you and the Click-clicks.”

Uncle scratched his ear with his back leg and he shook so violently that the kits had to hang on tight so as not to fall off his lap. The two biggest ones clung to his chest hair and Little Dream had to keep a good grip on the collar Uncle always wore with great pride.

“Well then, Little Dream,” he said. “This collar you can feel round my neck was presented to me as a mark of respect by a very important Blah-blah. He was Chief of the Click-click tribe, no less! I used to see him passing by every day in his Vroom-vroom.”

“What’s a Vroom-vroom?” asked Mimi.

“Vroom-vrooms are huge, dreadful things!” said Uncle. “How can I explain? Ah, yes . . . now you all know that meerkats always make sure to dig plenty of escape tunnels when we build a burrow, don’t you?” (He felt his little audience nodding away.) “Well, the flimsy mounds where the Blah-blahs live have only one entrance. So they keep special moving burrows nearby and jump into them whenever they sense danger. At the first sign of a lion or a rhino or any animal that bites or tramples – off they run, Vroom-vroom! Those things can move like stampeding wildebeest, what-what!”

“Oh, really, Uncle!” laughed Skeema not believing a word, but still enjoying the story.

“You’ll be telling us next that Vroom-vrooms have got legs!”

“Not at all, my boy. They glide along on round spinners that throw up clouds of sand, so they do! They do a terrible amount of roaring and dust-kicking and sometimes they let out an alarm call . . . Barp-barp! I’m pretty certain that these are tricks to frighten their enemies. But did your Uncle Fearless jump down the nearest bolthole when he saw them coming?”

“Never! No way!” cheered the kits.

“Of course not!” crowed Uncle Fearless. “I stood my ground like a king . . . ”

“And then you tamed Chief Click-click!” cried Little Dream, full of admiration.

Skeema rolled his eyes. It’s all made up, he thought. Still, he didn’t want to interrupt a good yarn.

“Well done, Dreamie! Yes, I tamed him. Mind you, it took ages before he and two of his subjects plucked up the courage to leave the safety of their Vroom-vroom. But finally they came out. And bit by bit they moved closer towards me on their tall, tall hind legs. The Chief led the way. He was very shy in spite of his great bigness and at first he only dared look at me through the shiny box he held up in front of his eyes to protect them!

Sometimes the chief went click-click! with his tongue, too, meaning that he was my subject. As each suntime passed, he became bolder and moved a little closer, bringing me tasty gifts of food. In the end he knelt on the sand in front of me and bowed down – completely tame. “You are my king!” he seemed to say. I could do what I wanted with him. He even allowed me to climb on to his head and use him as a look-out post.”

“Oo! What did he feel like?” gasped Little Dream. “Are they furry like us?”

“Well, let me tell you . . . When you climb up any of the Blah-blahs you will find that their legs are mostly smooth and warm. They feel dry like bark. Yet on the middle parts of their bodies they have a covering. It’s soft, I would say, not at all furry. Except on their heads. A lot of them have fur on their heads.”

“Uncle! Have you really climbed a Blah-blah?” said Mimi.

“Oh, many times! Once they know who’s boss they’re safe as burrows to be with.”

“What did the other Sharpeyes say when you told them?” asked Skeema, giggling. “Did they say, ‘Oo, Your Majesty! What a big fibber you are! There’s no such things as Blah-blahs or galloping Vroom-vrooms! You’re just making this all up . . . ’?”

He got a nip for being cheeky, but only a play-bite. Uncle was very fond of him. “Not at all, you saucy young dung beetle!” he boomed. “Most of the tribe were too scared to come out of the burrow at first, but when at last they did, they saw for themselves. Of course, it took a bit of time to get used to the size of the great clumsy creatures, but in the end all the Sharpeyes got to know them. In fact, we did our best to teach the Blah-blahs useful skills. We showed them the way to dig proper burrows, how to forage for food, how to do sentry duty . . . all that sort of thing. We even showed them how to do a war dance. The sad thing was, the Click-clicks turned out to be a bit stupid. They never did anything much, apart from sitting and hiding behind their eye-protectors.”

“I believe all of it,” said Little Dream. He never doubted his dear old babysitter.

“Mind you,” added Uncle a little sadly, “all this was . . . Harrumph! . . . before my . . . er . . . accident, of course. I couldn’t be a king any more after that. My brother had to take my place.”

“Sad,” murmured Little Dream.

Suddenly Uncle’s fur stood stiff and he was on the alert. “Wup-wup-wup!” he called urgently, and pulled the kits tighter to him.

“What is it, Uncle?” whispered Skeema.

“I can feel something! There! The ground’s shaking!” said Mimi.

Loose sand began to drift on to them from the ceiling. The kits began to cough and whimper.

“Is it an enemy?” whispered Little Dream. Skeema jumped down from Uncle’s lap and darted round the chamber making spit-noises. He always liked to have a plan. His present one was to run to an escape tunnel. He found himself digging furiously at the chamber door to get out.

“It’s an earthquake, possibly,” said Uncle. “Hush, now, Skeema. Stay with the group.” “Vroom-vroom!” breathed Little Dream.