The Adventures of Bottersnikes and Gumbles. Desmond Digby

Bottersnike he waddled into the bush trying to look bold, still muttering: ‘Nincombotters, that’s what they are, absolute Poopsnikes.’

      Soon after Chank had gone the King of the Bottersnikes woke up. He had been asleep on and off for two weeks and now was tired of resting. He poked his head out of the window of his rusty car and roared: ‘Snonk!’

      The King said: ‘Amuse me.’

      The Bottersnikes blinked.

      ‘Do something funny,’ the King shouted. ‘Make me laugh. Go on, make me laugh.’

      Two young Bottersnikes tried to amuse the King by standing on their heads and waving their legs in the air — which, come to think of it, is rather a funny sight, but the King did not laugh.

      ‘Idiots!’ he growled. ‘What’s funny about standing on their heads? Now if they were to sit on ’em it might be quite amusing. Sit on ’em,’ he added. ‘Hard.’

      Glob remarked that the funniest thing he could think of would be watching Chank trying to climb a tree, to get his roof down; and they told the King what had happened while he was asleep.

      ‘All right,’ said the King, ‘we will go and watch.’

      The other Bottersnikes did not like the idea of having to waddle so far but the King, well rested from his fortnight’s sleep, was ready for a little exercise, especially as the others would have to carry him.

      ‘If he’s not funny,’ the King said, ‘we’ll sit on his head.’

      They took their jam tins with them, just in case.

      The Gumbles had nearly forgotten the Bottersnikes because they are always too busy having fun to think of the nastier things. Besides, it was spring and just now they were going to help a willie wagtail build her nest. But the mother wagtail was being very difficult about it, very choosey.

      ‘First of all I must have the right place,’ she said. ‘Where the crows can’t see it and the snakes can’t climb.’

      There was something wrong with all the cosy nesting places the Gumbles found for her.

      ‘What about that thing up there?’ Happigumble said at last. ‘It looks like an old straw hat caught in the tree.’

      ‘It might do,’ Wagtail said doubtfully, ‘but it’s rather high up. What would happen if the babies fell out before they could fly?’

      ‘We’ll put it lower down for you,’ the Gumbles said. They were tired of Wagtail’s fuss and glad of an excuse to go and climb something. At the foot of the tree, though, they got a fright that nearly made them jump out of their Gumbleskins. They saw a fat Bottersnike, flat on his back and snoring.

      It was Chank, of course, come for his roof. He was too fat to climb the tree and his long waddle had tired him out.

      All the Gumbles together need not be afraid of one Bottersnike, especially when he is sound asleep; so they hid his jam tin in a bush, to be on the safe side, pulled faces at him and climbed up the inside of the tree because it was a hollow one. There was a sort of window high up where a branch had broken off, and they climbed through that and got the hat and threw it down — it landed on Chank’s head where it belonged.

      Now they found it harder to get down. They were going to make themselves into a Gumblerope and climb down that when a tink came from Tinkingumble.

      ‘I’ve got a better way,’ he said, peering from the window at the top of the trunk. ‘We can jump.’

      ‘O, no! It’s too high!’

      ‘On to Chank’s tummy,’ he said. ‘Watch!’

      He stood on the edge of the tree window, closed his eyes and went down with a Wheee! and a Berlumf! as he landed on Chank. He bounced off the great, fat stomach into the leaves beneath the tree, not hurt a bit.

      The others were not slow to follow. Down they came one after the other with a Wheee Berlumf!

      Wheee Berlumf! on to Chank — it was like bouncing on a springy mattress, though more fun because more dangerous.

      ‘That was good!’ the Gumbles cried. ‘Let’s do it again!’ and they scrambled up the inside of the hollow trunk and came down Wheee Berlumf! with their eyes shut. Chank did not wake up as he was so tired, but all that berlumfing on his tummy gave him bad dreams: he was being crawled over by a caterpillar as big as a crocodile with hobnailed boots on each of its fifty feet. It was fortunate he wasn’t Smiggles.

      The Gumbles thought this was one of the best games they’d had since last spring. While they were waiting for their turn to jump they tried to make up a Gumblesong about it, but they couldn’t think of a rhyme for Berlumf.

      Suddenly the noise changed to Wheee Blap! though they didn’t know why; they thought it might be easier to find a rhyme for Blap, but by the time they found out why they were going Blap instead of Berlumf it was too late to be bothering about Gumblesongs.

      The rest of the Bottersnikes had arrived, expecting to have a good laugh at Chank — but this was better, much better! They sneaked past the tree one at a time, each holding out his tin and catching the Gumbles before they bounced on Chank. Naturally, the noise of their falling changed to Blap.

      Chank woke up just in time to catch little Willigumble, who was the last to jump. He couldn’t find his jam tin and had to put him in his roof instead. Chank was very pleased to have his roof back though annoyed at not finding his jam tin, because it was the one with the wire handle. It was a good thing he did not find the tin as Wagtail had lined it with soft grass and laid an egg in it.

       SPRING IN THE AIR

      ‘The King’s Party is going to be put off until it stops raining,’ Willigumble whispered to Happigumble and the others nearby. ‘So there won’t be any nasty work for you for a bit. Now we’ve got to find a way of getting you out of the jam tins. I’ll go and see if Tinkingumble’s managed to have a tink yet — he’s sure to think of something.’

      He scurried across to Tinkingumble’s tin, taking care the Bottersnikes did not see him. This was not difficult. They were all under cover so as not to get wet in the sun. The King was in his car, Chank was wearing his roof, the Weathersnike was under his bathtub as usual and the rest were sulking beneath their pots and pans, bits of iron, mattresses, kettles, watering cans and buckets, waiting for the rain that never came.

      ‘No,’ said Tinkingumble sadly, ‘I haven’t had a tink, and I’ve tried and tried. D’you know what, Willigumble? I think I’ve lost my tink!’

      ‘Perhaps you dropped it somewhere,’ Willigumble suggested. ‘I’ll go and hunt for it. What does it look like?’

      Neither knew for certain. They imagined it would be a small bag with a bell that rang as each good idea popped out.

      ‘I’ll get the bees to help me look,’ said Willi, trying to sound cheerful. ‘They go everywhere.’

      Willigumble went off. It was a lovely spring day with a blue sky and a breeze that blew in playful puffs, just enough to keep the leaves from dozing. Down below, flowers were warming themselves in the sun, the bitter peas, red spiders and coral heath in the damp places; bees were busy