wouldn’t let anyone sell him to the Sideshow Man. Uncle Chris woke up where he was sleeping on the seat of his Stanley Steamer and said he’d see what he could do about Banana Bob, and Peter and Marie made him a cup of cocoa. Then they made cups of cocoa for everyone, because we were all wide awake and crying.
“Where’s Aunt Effie?” asked Lizzie.
“Maybe the shops weren’t open in Matamata after all,” saidUncle Chris.
We heard him go back to his Stanley Steamer, and he must have set the burner going under the boiler, because we heard steam hissing out, and the terrible noise like bagpipes again. It made us feel safe, knowing Uncle Chris was there, and that his Stanley Steamer was keeping up a good head of steam.
We all pulled our blankets up over our noses, and Jessie said, “My eyes feel as big as ping-pong balls.”
“Go to sleep,” said Becky. “Banana Bob won’t come as long as Uncle Chris is here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Letting the Witches Out; the Sideshow Man and the Phantom Drummer; the Challenge; the Black Spot; Silly Old Bugaboo; Three Gigantic Gorillas; The Starting Gun; and 800 lb p.s.i .
The rising sun silvered dewy cobwebs between the fence wires. Steam had blown gently all night from the Stanley Steamer and kept us warm. Uncle Chris was connecting a hose to the boiler under the bonnet of his car.
We saw what he was rigging and scampered to be first under the hot shower. Around us the ground was white with an early frost, but we were warm inside a circle of steaming-hot spray. We jostled and fought for the soap. We shoved each other out through the watery curtain. Our toes curled up from the frost, and we shrieked and pushed back inside again.
For breakfast, Uncle Chris cooked our eggs in his boiler. When the little ones finished theirs, Uncle Chris pointed. “Look up the top of the Tower!” They stared up, and he flipped over their empty eggshells.
“But I ate my egg!” said Casey as she looked down at her eggcup.
“You’ve got yellow all round your mouth,” said Uncle Chris, “so you must have. Try eating it again.”
Casey tapped the top with her teaspoon. “It’s empty!”
“You must always knock a hole in the bottom of an eggshell,” Uncle Chris told her, “to let out the witches, or they’ll tie knots in your hair.”
He gave the little ones some more boiled eggs and cut off the tops. They ate them, turned the shells upside down, and poked holes through. “To let the witches out!”
“To keep the Phantom Drummer away,” whispered Alwyn.
Ah-oogah! Ah-oogah! Banana Bob’s Model T wobbled towards us.
A grim man sat in the driver’s seat, working the pedals with his bare feet. Banana Bob leaned across and steered from the passenger seat. His head was so pointy this morning, it stuck up under the canvas hood of the Model T. He took one hand off the wheel and pointed at Alwyn. “That’s him,” he said. “The one who gave me lip!”
The grim man turned dark eyes on Alwyn. We looked at him and ran and stood by Peter and Marie. “He’s got a tattooed face!”
“The Sideshow Man!” said Uncle Chris.
The lines and whorls of the Sideshow Man’s tattoo deepened and darkened as he stared at Alwyn.
“What’s that?” cried Daisy and swooned. Among the crates of bananas, a massive black shadow moved. We thought we could see a white stripe like a parson’s collar around its neck. Its mouth opened, flames came out, and it seemed to lick its lips as it looked at Alwyn. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” – the sound made us go goose-pimply all over.
“The Phantom Drummer!” said Uncle Chris, and his voiceshook. We all cried.
“We’ve come for Alwyn,” said Banana Bob. “We’ve come to take him away!”
“Well, you can’t have him!” said Uncle Chris.
The tattooed Sideshow Man bounded out of the driver’s seat, jumped up and down. “Ugh!” he grunted. “Ugh!” He waved the tea-tree stick with the lady’s hand mirror lashed on the end, rolled his eyes,
“Where’s Aunt Effie?” asked Lizzie.
“Maybe the shops weren’t open in Matamata after all,” saidUncle Chris.
We heard him go back to his Stanley Steamer, and he must have set the burner going under the boiler, because we heard steam hissing out, and the terrible noise like bagpipes again. It made us feel safe, knowing Uncle Chris was there, and that his Stanley Steamer was keeping up a good head of steam.
We all pulled our blankets up over our noses, and Jessie said, “My eyes feel as big as ping-pong balls.”
“Go to sleep,” said Becky. “Banana Bob won’t come as long as Uncle Chris is here.”
Chapter Fourteen
Letting the Witches Out; the Sideshow Man and the Phantom Drummer; the Challenge; the Black Spot; Silly Old Bugaboo; Three Gigantic Gorillas; The Starting Gun; and 800 lb p.s.i .
The rising sun silvered dewy cobwebs between the fence wires. Steam had blown gently all night from the Stanley Steamer and kept us warm. Uncle Chris was connecting a hose to the boiler under the bonnet of his car.
We saw what he was rigging and scampered to be first under the hot shower. Around us the ground was white with an early frost, but we were warm inside a circle of steaming-hot spray. We jostled and fought for the soap. We shoved each other out through the watery curtain. Our toes curled up from the frost, and we shrieked and pushed back inside again.
For breakfast, Uncle Chris cooked our eggs in his boiler. When the little ones finished theirs, Uncle Chris pointed. “Look up the top of the Tower!” They stared up, and he flipped over their empty eggshells.
“But I ate my egg!” said Casey as she looked down at her eggcup.
“You’ve got yellow all round your mouth,” said Uncle Chris, “so you must have. Try eating it again.”
Casey tapped the top with her teaspoon. “It’s empty!”
“You must always knock a hole in the bottom of an eggshell,” Uncle Chris told her, “to let out the witches, or they’ll tie knots in your hair.”
He gave the little ones some more boiled eggs and cut off the tops. They ate them, turned the shells upside down, and poked holes through. “To let the witches out!”
“To keep the Phantom Drummer away,” whispered Alwyn.
Ah-oogah! Ah-oogah! Banana Bob’s Model T wobbled towards us.
A grim man sat in the driver’s seat, working the pedals with his bare feet. Banana Bob leaned across and steered from the passenger seat. His head was so pointy this morning, it stuck up under the canvas hood of the Model T. He took one hand off the wheel and pointed at Alwyn. “That’s him,” he said. “The one who gave me lip!”
The grim man turned dark eyes on Alwyn. We looked at him and ran and stood by Peter and Marie. “He’s got a tattooed face!”
“The Sideshow Man!” said Uncle Chris.
The lines and whorls of the Sideshow Man’s tattoo deepened and darkened as he stared at Alwyn.
“What’s that?” cried Daisy and swooned. Among the crates of bananas, a massive black shadow moved. We thought we could see a white stripe like a parson’s collar around its neck. Its mouth opened, flames came out, and it seemed to lick its lips as it looked at Alwyn. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” – the sound made us go goose-pimply all over.
“The Phantom Drummer!” said Uncle Chris, and his voiceshook. We all cried.
“We’ve come for Alwyn,” said Banana Bob. “We’ve come to take him away!”
“Well, you can’t have him!” said Uncle Chris.
The tattooed Sideshow Man bounded out of the driver’s seat, jumped up and down. “Ugh!” he grunted. “Ugh!” He waved the tea-tree stick with the lady’s hand mirror lashed on the end, rolled his eyes,
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