And so cuddled together, a strange-looking pair, they snoozed and waited until the moon arose.
linky was awakened by a soft “whoo, whoo”. He sat up and blinked his eyes. There was the moon shining through the leaves like a big golden penny and Mr Owl’s eyes looked almost as large as he gazed at Blinky.
“Time to get up,” he said very quietly.
“Is Mr Smifkins’s far away?” Blinky inquired.
“About six tree stops from here,” Mr Owl replied. “We’d better make a start while the bush is cool.”
Grunting with glee Blinky crawled down the tree and as he reached the ground the old owl flew on ahead. After they had reached six stopping places Blinky looked up in the tree as Mr Owl hooted.
“This is as far as I come,” he said.
“Where is the farm?” Blinky asked.
“Follow the track you are now on and in a very short time you will come to a fence. That is where the Smifkinses live.”
“Thank you so much, Mr Owl, for showing me the way,” Blinky called out.
“Whoo, whoo!” the old owl cried and on noiseless wings he was gone.
“Seems to be very quiet and lonely just here,” Blinky thought as he pattered along.
Presently he came to an opening in the trees and peering through he saw the fence just a few yards ahead, Farther on he could see a house with a light gleaming in the window and smoke rising from the chimney. Under the fence he crawled and through a potato patch, then very quietly he crept through the orchard. Here he sat and waited. Mr Smifkins’s dog was barking and Blinky remembered what Mr Owl had said about that dog.
He waited until the light went out in the window and then crept nearer and nearer the house. On to the veranda he climbed and softly tiptoed round to the back door. Everything was locked up there, so he decided to explore the side of the house.
Peeping round the corner he saw a bed on the veranda and thought he’d have a look to see what was in it. So softly as a cat he went and sniffed the end of the blanket. Some very funny sounds came from under that blanket.
Blinky held his breath with fright.
“What a dreadful noise!” he thought. “I must see where it is coming from.”
Climbing up on the bed he crawled along the side, and — oh dear, what a funny sight he saw!
Mr Smifkins was fast asleep making such queer noises with his mouth open; and over his head was a long white net.
Blinky gazed and gazed at him. Never had he seen anything so funny. Why, he even had whiskers just like Mr Wombat, only much thicker, and they drooped all over his chin, while Mr Wombat’s stuck out straight and stiff.
“I must take some of those whiskers to show Mr Wombat,” Blinky whispered to himself. Wouldn’t Mrs Grunty like some to pad her gum-leaf cushion with! and then his mother could make use of them for sewing on buttons.
Blinky put out his paw and made a sharp tug at the whiskers.
Snore, snore. Mr Smifkins had no idea he had a visitor.
Lifting the net very cautiously, Blinky put out his paw and made a sharp tug at the whiskers.
“Good heavens!” Mr Smifkins jumped six feet in the air.
“Gee whizzikins! What the dickens was that?” he cried.
As he shouted he made a leap out of bed quite forgetting the mosquito-net over his head. Down it came, right over him, tangling up his legs and arms. He seemed to have six pairs of legs and dozens of arms.
Blinky made a dive under the bed, terrified beyond words, and lay there panting with fright.
“Fancy whiskers doing that!” he murmured.
The whole bed was shaking in an alarming manner, and such terrible words and growls came from Mr Smifkins.
“To billy-o with this net!” he roared; while rips and kicks rent the air.
Just as the commotion was at its worst Mr Smifkins’s dog came round the corner, snarling and growling. Blinky did not want to see what was going to happen. He raced from under the bed and down off the veranda and right into the legs of Mrs Smifkins.
“Burglars!” she screamed at the top of her voice, and kept on screaming.
Hearing this, Mr Smifkins took one leap off the veranda, the net all over him, and as he rushed along he waved his arms, frantically trying to get rid of it.
Mr Smifkins took one leap off the veranda, the net all over him.
Poor Mrs Smifkins took one look and raced for her life round the house.
“Ghosts! Ghosts!” she yelled, as she tore round to the back door, with Mr Smifkins in hot pursuit. “Help! Help! Burglars! Ghosts!” she kept calling at the top of her voice, and ran right into old Neddy the draught-horse, who was snoozing under the kitchen window. He looked up, surprised to hear such dreadful screams on such a quiet night, and caught one glimpse of Mr Smifkins coming round the corner.
Hoosh! Up went his hind legs and with a frightened neigh he raced off for the paddock, crashing over the lettuce bed, through the tomato frames, and away into the night.
Mrs Smifkins reached the back door in a flash. Bang! and she was inside, still screaming “Ghosts!”
All this time Mr Smifkins was using those strange words at the top of his voice. He roared like a bull and made mad lunges at things that got in his way. Just as he rushed past the old apple-tree the net caught in the branches and thank goodness it stayed there. Mr Smifkins’s dog added to the uproar with his yelps and barks and tried very hard to bite his master’s legs as the chase was in progress.
Panting and very, very cross, Mr Smifkins banged on the back door as his wife had locked him out.
“Don’t be a fool!” he roared. But Mrs Smifkins refused to open the door.
She knew it was a ghost she had seen.
Suddenly Mr Smifkins thought of the cause of all this trouble. What on earth could have pulled his whiskers? So once again he set off to investigate.
Blinky was very thankful that Mr Smifkins’s dog chased his master, as it gave him a chance to hide.
After colliding with Mrs Smifkins he was nearly collapsing with fright.
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