Just so stories
Still ran Dingo--Tired-Dog Dingo--hungrier and hungrier, very much
bewildered, and wondering when in the world or out of it would Old Man
Kangaroo stop.
Then came Nqong from his bath in the salt-pans, and said, ‘It’s five
o’clock.’
Down sat Dingo--Poor Dog Dingo--always hungry, dusky in the sunshine;
hung out his tongue and howled.
Down sat Kangaroo--Old Man Kangaroo--stuck out his tail like a
milking-stool behind him, and said, ‘Thank goodness that’s finished!’
Then said Nqong, who is always a gentleman, ‘Why aren’t you grateful to
Yellow-Dog Dingo? Why don’t you thank him for all he has done for you?’
Then said Kangaroo--Tired Old Kangaroo--He’s chased me out of the homes
of my childhood; he’s chased me out of my regular meal-times; he’s
altered my shape so I’ll never get it back; and he’s played Old Scratch
with my legs.’
Then said Nqong, ‘Perhaps I’m mistaken, but didn’t you ask me to make
you different from all other animals, as well as to make you very truly
sought after? And now it is five o’clock.’
‘Yes,’ said Kangaroo. ‘I wish that I hadn’t. I thought you would do it
by charms and incantations, but this is a practical joke.’
‘Joke!’ said Nqong from his bath in the blue gums. ‘Say that again and
I’ll whistle up Dingo and run your hind legs off.’
‘No,’ said the Kangaroo. ‘I must apologise. Legs are legs, and you
needn’t alter ‘em so far as I am concerned. I only meant to explain to
Your Lordliness that I’ve had nothing to eat since morning, and I’m very
empty indeed.’
‘Yes,’ said Dingo--Yellow-Dog Dingo,--‘I am just in the same situation.
I’ve made him different from all other animals; but what may I have for
my tea?’
Then said Nqong from his bath in the salt-pan, ‘Come and ask me about it
tomorrow, because I’m going to wash.’
So they were left in the middle of Australia, Old Man Kangaroo and
Yellow-Dog Dingo, and each said, ‘That’s your fault.’
THIS is the mouth-filling song
Of the race that was run by a Boomer,
Run in a single burst--only event of its kind--
Started by big God Nqong from Warrigaborrigarooma,
Old Man Kangaroo first: Yellow-Dog Dingo behind.
Kangaroo bounded away,
His back-legs working like pistons--
Bounded from morning till dark,
Twenty-five feet to a bound.
Yellow-Dog Dingo lay
Like a yellow cloud in the distance--
Much too busy to bark.
My! but they covered the ground!
Nobody knows where they went,
Or followed the track that they flew in,
For that Continent
Hadn’t been given a name.
They ran thirty degrees,
From Torres Straits to the Leeuwin
(Look at the Atlas, please),
And they ran back as they came.
S’posing you could trot
From Adelaide to the Pacific,
For an afternoon’s run
Half what these gentlemen did
You would feel rather hot,
But your legs would develop terrific--
Yes, my importunate son,
You’d be a Marvellous Kid!
THE BEGINNING OF THE ARMADILLOS
THIS, O Best Beloved, is another story of the High and Far-Off Times.
In the very middle of those times was a Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog, and
he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, eating shelly snails and
things. And he had a friend, a Slow-Solid Tortoise, who lived on the
banks of the turbid Amazon, eating green lettuces and things. And so
that was all right, Best Beloved. Do you see?
But also, and at the same time, in those High and Far-Off Times, there
was a Painted Jaguar, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon
too; and he ate everything that he could catch. When he could not catch
deer or monkeys he would eat frogs and beetles; and when he could not
catch frogs and beetles he went to his Mother Jaguar, and she told him
how to eat hedgehogs and tortoises.
She said to him ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘My son,
when you find a Hedgehog you must drop him into the water and then he
will uncoil, and when you catch a Tortoise you must scoop him out of his
shell with your paw.’ And so that was all right, Best Beloved.
One beautiful night on the banks of the turbid Amazon, Painted Jaguar
found Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog and Slow-Solid Tortoise sitting under the
trunk of a fallen tree. They could not run away, and so Stickly-Prickly
curled himself up into a ball, because he was a Hedgehog, and Slow-Solid
Tortoise drew in his head and feet into his shell as far as they would
go, because he was a Tortoise; and so that was all right, Best Beloved.
Do you see?
‘Now attend to me,’ said Painted Jaguar, ‘because this is very
important. My mother said that when I meet a Hedgehog I am to drop him
into the water and then he will uncoil, and when I meet a Tortoise I am
to scoop him out of his shell with my paw. Now which of you is Hedgehog
and which is Tortoise? because, to save my spots, I can’t tell.’
‘Are you sure of what your Mummy told you?’ said Stickly-Prickly
Hedgehog. ‘Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you uncoil a
Tortoise you must shell him out the water with a scoop, and when you paw
a Hedgehog you must drop him on the shell.’
‘Are you sure of what your Mummy told you?’ said Slow-and-Solid
Tortoise. ‘Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you water a
Hedgehog you must drop him into your paw, and when you meet a Tortoise
you must shell him till he uncoils.’
‘I don’t think it was at all like that,’ said Painted Jaguar, but he
felt a little puzzled; ‘but, please, say it again more distinctly.’
‘When you scoop water with your paw you uncoil it with a Hedgehog,’ said
Stickly-Prickly. ‘Remember that, because it’s important.’
‘But,’ said the Tortoise, ‘when you paw your meat you drop it into a
Tortoise with a scoop. Why can’t you understand?’
‘You are making my spots ache,’ said Painted Jaguar; ‘and besides, I
didn’t want your advice at all. I only wanted to know which of you is
Hedgehog and which is Tortoise.’
‘I shan’t tell you,’ said Stickly-Prickly, ‘but you can scoop me out of
my shell if you like.’
‘Aha!’ said Painted Jaguar. ‘Now I know you’re Tortoise. You thought I
wouldn’t! Now I will.’ Painted Jaguar darted out his paddy-paw just as
Stickly-Prickly curled himself up, and of course Jaguar’s paddy-paw was
just filled with prickles. Worse than that, he knocked Stickly-Prickly
away and away into the woods and the bushes, where it was too dark to
find him. Then he put his paddy-paw into his mouth, and of course the
prickles hurt him worse than ever. As soon as he could speak he said,
‘Now I know he isn’t Tortoise at all. But’--and then he scratched
his head with his un-prickly paw--‘how do I know that this other is
Tortoise?’
‘But I am Tortoise,’ said Slow-and-Solid. Your mother was quite right.
She said that you were to scoop me out of my shell with your paw.
Begin.’
‘You didn’t say she said that a minute ago, said Painted Jaguar, sucking
the prickles out of his paddy-paw. ‘You said she said something quite
different.’
‘Well, suppose you say that I said that she said something quite
different, I don’t see that it makes any difference; because if she said
what you said I said she said, it’s just the same as if I said what she
said she said. On the other hand, if you think she said that you were to
uncoil me with a scoop, instead of pawing me into drops with a shell, I
can’t help that, can I?’
‘But you said you wanted to be scooped out of your shell with my paw,’
said Painted Jaguar.
‘If you’ll think again you’ll find that I didn’t say anything of the
kind. I said that your mother said that you were to scoop me out of my
shell,’ said Slow-and-Solid.
‘What will happen if I do?’ said the Jaguar most sniffily and most
cautious.
‘I don’t know, because I’ve never been scooped out of my shell before;
but I tell you truly, if you want to see me swim away you’ve only got to
drop me into the water.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Painted Jaguar. ‘You’ve mixed up all the
things my mother told me to do with the things that you asked me whether
I was sure that she didn’t say, till I don’t know whether I’m on my
head or my painted tail; and now you come and tell me something I can
understand, and it makes me more mixy than before. My mother told me
that I was to drop one of you two into the water, and as you seem so
anxious to be dropped I think you don’t want to be dropped. So jump into
the turbid Amazon and be quick about it.’
‘I warn you that your Mummy won’t be pleased. Don’t tell her I didn’t
tell you,’ said Slow-Solid.
‘If you say another word about what my mother said--’ the Jaguar
answered, but he had not finished the sentence before Slow-and-Solid
quietly dived into the turbid Amazon, swam under water for a long way,
and came out on the bank where Stickly-Prickly was waiting for him.
‘That was a very narrow escape,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘I don’t rib
Painted Jaguar. What did you tell him that you were?’
‘I told him truthfully that I was a truthful Tortoise, but he wouldn’t
believe it, and he made me jump into the river to see if I was, and I
was, and he is surprised. Now he’s gone to tell his Mummy. Listen to
him!’
They could hear Painted Jaguar roaring up and down among the trees and
the bushes by the side of the turbid Amazon, till his Mummy came.
‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her
tail, ‘what have you been doing that you shouldn’t have done?’
‘I tried to scoop something that said it wanted to be scooped out of
its shell with my paw, and my paw is full of per-ickles,’ said Painted
Jaguar.
‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her
tail, ‘by the prickles in your paddy-paw I see that that must have been
a Hedgehog. You should have dropped him into the water.
‘I did that to the other thing; and he said he was a Tortoise, and I
didn’t believe him, and it was quite true, and he has dived under the
turbid Amazon, and he won’t come up again, and I haven’t anything at all
to eat, and I think we had better find lodgings somewhere else. They are
too clever on the turbid Amazon for poor me!’
‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving
her tail, ‘now attend to me and remember what I say. A Hedgehog curls
himself up into a ball and his prickles stick out every which way at
once. By this you may know the Hedgehog.’
‘I don’t like this old lady one little bit,’ said Stickly-Prickly, under
the shadow of a large leaf. ‘I wonder what else she knows?’
‘A Tortoise can’t curl himself up,’ Mother Jaguar went on, ever so many
times, graciously waving her tail. ‘He only draws his head and legs into
his shell. By this you may know the tortoise.’
‘I don’t like this old lady at all--at all,’ said Slow-and-Solid
Tortoise. ‘Even Painted Jaguar can’t forget those directions. It’s a
great pity that you can’t swim, Stickly-Prickly.’
‘Don’t talk to me,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘Just think how much better
it would be if you could curl up. This is a mess! Listen to Painted
Jaguar.’
Painted Jaguar was sitting on the banks of the turbid Amazon sucking
prickles out of his Paws and saying to himself--
‘Can’t curl, but can swim--
Slow-Solid, that’s him!
Curls up, but can’t swim--
Stickly-Prickly, that’s him!’
‘He’ll never forget that this month of Sundays,’ said Stickly-Prickly.
‘Hold up my chin, Slow-and-Solid. I’m going to try to learn to swim. It
may be useful.’
‘Excellent!’ said Slow-and-Solid; and he held up Stickly-Prickly’s chin,
while Stickly-Prickly kicked in the waters of the turbid Amazon.
‘You’ll make a fine swimmer yet,’ said Slow-and-Solid. ‘Now, if you can
unlace my back-plates a little, I’ll see what I can do towards curling
up. It may be useful.’
Stickly-Prickly helped to unlace Tortoise’s back-plates, so that by