Billy and Old Smoko (9 page)

O
n Monday, as they rode to school, Johnny Bryce said, “Feel the earthquake yesterday?”

“That wasn't an earthquake,” Billy told Johnny Bryce, “that was Mount Te Aroha having indigestion,” and he told everyone the story of Doll the Troll.

Lynda Bryce and the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement burst into tears, and that started everyone else crying, so Old Smoko settled them by singing the first line of the song, “‘Five little ducks went out one day…'”

“‘
Over the hills and far away
.'” One by one, they stopped crying and joined in. “‘
Mother Duck went ‘Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!' And four little ducks came swimming back
.'” They sang it through again, louder this time, because they all wanted to forget Doll the Troll.

Next time they sang it through, they did the actions with their hands, and nodding their heads. Then Harrietta Wilson got the idea of rolling her eyes and standing up on Old
Smoko's back so she could stamp her feet.

The others copied her. When she stamped, they stamped, when she wiriwiried her fingers, they shook their fingers, too. When she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, they rolled their eyes and whateroed, too. As they rode into Waharoa, the Rotorua Express came thundering through from Morrinsville and saw twenty-six kids standing in a row along Old Smoko's back, singing “Five Little Ducks”, wiriwiri-ing their fingers, rolling their eyes, stamping their feet, and poking out their tongues.

When it saw Old Smoko was rolling his eyes and sticking out his tongue, too, the Rotorua Express blew off and shot through Waharoa without stopping.

“If I was the driver of the school bus,” said the stationmaster, “I'd put those rowdy kids off and make them walk to school.” He didn't realise he'd just witnessed the inventing of the famous haka, “Te Quack Quack!” which the All Blacks use to intimidate other teams before test matches.

After morning play, Mr Strap said, “What causes earthquakes?”

“Please, Sir!” Billy waved his hand till his fingers snapped. “Ask me, Sir! Please, Sir!”

“Well, boy – what makes earthquakes?”

“Please, Sir, gobbling your tucker, and not chewing it properly!”

“Blockhead!” jeered Mr Strap. “And what makes mountains?”

“Please, sir, eating green plums, having the collywobbles, and getting caught out in the sun!”

“Nincompoop!” Mr Strap rolled his eyes. Harrietta squeaked, and stuck her hand over her mouth.

“Pay attention!” said Mr Strap. “Silence! All eyes this way! Hands on heads! At once!

“Tomorrow,” he said, and his eyes bulged, “the School Inspector is coming!”

Everyone stared at Mr Strap. Down the back of the classroom, somebody cried. Nobody turned around, but they could hear splashing.

“Yes,” said Mr Strap, “he's coming to inspect you, so you'd all better watch out!”

Down the back of the classroom several other little kids started crying. Their tears on the floor sounded like a tap running.

“Your noses had better be wiped, and you'd better do your homework and get all your spelling and sums right, or the School Inspector will give you the cuts and put you back in the primers! If you're on pen, he'll put you back on pencil. If you're on pencil, he'll put you back on a slate, like the little kids. So there, and don't say I didn't warn you!”

Mr Strap gave Billy a baleful smile. “Sit up straight, boy! Feet together, bottom tucked in, looking this way!

“You try telling the School Inspector that earthquakes are caused by indigestion, and Mount Te Aroha is made out of green plums and collywobbles, and see what he has to say!” Mr Strap blew down both nostrils and rang the bell for lunch-time.

“You can stay inside and clean the blackboard for the rest
of the day,” he told Billy. “We'll see if that wipes the smirk off your face.”

“Yes, Mr Strap!”

“Yes, Mr Strap what?”

“Yes, Mr Strap, Sir!”

“And don't you forget it!” said Mr Strap. “What did I say, boy?”

“I forget,” said Billy.

“Please, Sir!” said Phil Ellery, the school greaser. “Please, Sir, you said, ‘And don't you forget it,' Sir!”

Mr Strap smiled at Phil Ellery. “And don't you forget it!” he repeated to Billy.

“No, Mr Strap. I mean, yes, Mr Strap. No. Yes. Sir!”

“I hope you're not trying to be smart with me, boy!”

“Yes, Sir! I mean no, Sir.”

At three o'clock, Mr Strap said, “You can stop cleaning the blackboard, boy,” and rang the bell for home-time.

“Don't forget,” he said, eyes bulging, “tomorrow the School Inspector is coming to inspect your hair for kooties, your ears for wax, your fingernails for dirt, and your exercise books for ink blots. And make sure you've got a clean hanky, or you'll get the cuts, the lot of you!”

Crying loudly, they rode home. “Fear not!” said Old Smoko, but Harrietta slid down at the Wardville turnoff and ran home crying. The little boy from out Soldiers Settlement slid off and ran home crying. Last of all, Johnny Bryce slid off, said, “It's all your fault!” and ran crying after his little sister, Lynda, who was crying, too.

“Tomorrow,” Billy told his stepmother, “we're all getting
the cuts from the School Inspector.”

“And about time what are you crying for you lackadaisical lummox?” Billy's stepmother said to his father who hummed “Home On the Range” through his ears by holding both nostrils closed.

Next morning, Mr Strap wore a dark suit, his best hat, and walked on his hands over to the school, so he wouldn't get dirt on his polished shoes.

They all got all their mental arithmetic wrong. “Dunderheads!” thundered Mr Strap. They all got all their spelling wrong. “Addleheads!” bellowed Mr Strap.

He listened to the standard twos reading. “Blockhead!” he told Pixie Williams when she got stuck on a long word. “Who can tell us what it says?”

“Please, Sir, it's easy! It says: ‘glottochronological', Sir!” Phil Ellery looked around the classroom with a tight little smile.

“How would you like a glottochronological thump on the nose after school?” whispered Harrietta, and showed him her fist.

“Any more of that, Harrietta Wilson, and you can sit in the stocks for the rest of the day!” hissed Mr Strap.

“Hi-Yo, Sylvia!”

“What was that?” Billy whispered to Harrietta, but she was staring at Mr Strap whose face turned red, white, blue, and then red again.

“Hi-Yo, Sylvia!” They all heard it this time. Out in the horse paddock, Old Smoko whinnied, and trotted up and down the fence.

“Who's Sylvia?” Billy whispered.

“Mrs Strap,” Harrietta whispered back.

“Hi-Yo, Sylvia!”

It was very close this time. Something kicked open the door, and in galloped the School Inspector. His horse reared, neighed, and crashed down on its front hoofs. “Hi-Yo, Sylvia! Away!” the horse neighed in a well-educated voice.

“You fool!” the rider said to it. “We've only just arrived.” He leapt off the horse and announced, “This is a stick-up! I am the School Inspector!”

Everybody screamed and stuck up their hands. The School Inspector had a long black coat, long black hair, a long black beard, long black spectacles, a long black nose, and long black teeth. Billy smelt oil of wintergreen and wondered if it was the School Inspector or his horse.

“He's come to inspect us for kooties,” cried the primers.

“I haven't come to inspect you,” said the School Inspector. “I have come to inspect Mr Strap!”

Mr Strap was trying to sneak out the door, but the horse caught him by the scruff of his neck and carried him back. The School Inspector inspected his fingernails and smacked his knuckles with a ruler. He inspected his ears and shouted in one, “You could grow spuds in there!” He inspected his hair and told him, “You see you use the kootie comb on your moustache!”

He turned to the class. “Lesson number one,” said the School Inspector. “Appearances. Things are never quite what they seem.” He took off his long black coat. The little primer kids shrieked as his long black wig, beard, nose,
glasses, and teeth all came off with the coat. Underneath, the School Inspector had short white hair, a short nose, and short white teeth. And he was wearing a six-gun holstered low on each hip and tied down around his thighs.

“Haven't we seen him before?” Billy whispered to Harrietta.

“Lesson number two,” the School Inspector whispered so everyone sat forward to hear him. “Reasoning.” He cracked his whip, whirled his lasso round his head, caught Mr Strap's hat in the noose, and tossed it in the air. Faster than anyone could see, the School Inspector's hands dropped to the six-guns, fanned both hammers, and emptied both pistols at Mr Strap's hat before it hit the floor.

M
r Strap's hat rolled along the floor. “How many holes in it?” demanded the School Inspector.

“None, Sir,” said Billy.

“Why not?”

“Because your pistols are only cap-guns, Sir!”

“Excellent reasoning!” cried the School Inspector. “Go up a class, Billy!

“Lesson three. Geography. What makes all the ups and downs along the top of the Kaimais?”

“Indigestion, Sir!” said Harrietta.

“Excellent! Go up a class, Harrietta!” cried the School Inspector. “Now, lesson four. What makes mountains?”

“Trolls, Sir!” said the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement.

“Excellent! How well you've been taught! Go up a class!

“Lesson five. Spell collywobbles!” the School Inspector told Mr Strap.

Mr Strap picked up his hat and stared at it. “Collywobbles?” he repeated.

“Spell it!” said the School Inspector.

Mr Strap grinned. “I–T!” he said.

“Don't try to be funny with me,” said the School Inspector. Everyone cheered, because that's what Mr Strap always said. “I told you to spell collywobbles!”

Mr Strap looked thoughtful. “Collywobbles,” he said. “K–A–U–L–I–F–L–O–W–E–R–S!”

“Sir spelled cauliflowers instead of collywobbles,” Harrietta Wilson giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “With a k instead of a c!” she spluttered. “Please, Sir,” Harrietta couldn't stop laughing, “we all had the collywobbles last week from eating green plums, Sir.”

“Spell them yourself!” said the School Inspector.

“C–O–L–L–Y–W–O–B–B–L–E–S!” said Harrietta.

“Excellent!” cried the School Inspector, and told Harrietta to go up another class, while he gave Mr Strap the cuts, one on each hand, another for not saying sir, and one more for spelling cauliflower with a K instead of a C.

“Lesson six. Nature Study. How do you find your way home through the bush?”

“Turn down a fern leaf and the silver underside points the way, Sir!” said Tama Rawiri.

“Excellent, Tama!” cried the School Inspector. “Go up a class!

“Lesson seven. Astronomy. How do you find which direction is south?”

“Please, Sir, stand with your back to the north and point!”
called out Mr Strap.

“Can anyone tell him?”

“Please, Sir!” said Johnny Bryce. “Find the Southern Cross; extend its longest axis a couple of times, and that's south, and north should be straight behind you, Sir!”

“Very impressive!” said the School Inspector. “Just remember it doesn't work in the daytime, Johnny. Go up a class!

“Lesson ten. History.”

“Please, Sir,” said June Williams, “what about lessons eight and nine?”

“Excellent for paying attention. Go up a class, June! Now, History.”

They all sat forward and stared. Mr Strap waved his hand, flicked his fingers, and said, “Oh, please, Sir!”

“Put down your hand,” said the School Inspector. “I haven't asked the question yet. Remember that if just one person gets the answer right, everyone goes up a class!”

Everyone sighed.

“But, there's a catch. If just one person gets the answer wrong, everyone goes down a class.”

Everyone sighed again. The School Inspector took a deep breath and said, “What was the name of Captain Cook's ship?”

Silence.

“Come on! Someone must know the name of Captain Cook's ship.…”

Mr Strap sneaked a look in his history book. “Please, Sir–” he waved his hand and flicked his finger. “Please, Sir! I know! Please, Sir!”

“Silence!” the School Inspector told him.

“Please, Sir…” said Lynda Bryce.

“Yes?”

“Please, Sir…”

“Yes, Lynda?”

“Please, Sir, was it…”

“Was it what, dear?”

“Was it H.M. S.
Phar Lap
?”

“Correct! History – excellent! Everyone goes up one class, and Lynda goes up several.”

Lynda Bryce turned around, poked out her tongue at Flora Carter, and said, “So there!”

“‘Pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall!' Proverbs, Sixteen: Eighteen,” said Flora Carter who had buck teeth and always beat Lynda Bryce for the Scripture Prize at Sunday School.

“Haughty!” said a voice from the back of the room. “Haughty-taughty, rorty-snorty, roity-snoity, hoity-toity!”

“As for you,” the School Inspector told Mr Strap, “write ‘I must learn to spell “collywobbles”' five hundred times. And if you spell it wrongly, I'll send you to the Prime Minister.”

He emptied both six-guns in the air. Since he hadn't put any more rolls of caps in his pistols, everyone shouted “Bang!” for him. Twelve times.

“Phys Ed!” the School Inspector shouted. “Billy and Johnny Bryce pick up for a game of footy.”

Old Smoko came trotting, and Mrs Strap cantered across
from the school house. They both loved footy. Mrs Strap had short, bristly red hair and wore her old All Black jersey. “Hi-Yo, Sylvia!” the School Inspector's horse said to her.

Everyone pushed and shoved, saying, “Pick me, Billy! Hey, Johnny, pick me!”

Taking turns, Billy and Johnny Bryce stepped towards each other, one foot at a time.

Johnny Bryce cheated and used both feet, but Old Smoko pointed up in the sky, stared, and said, “Gosh!” Everybody looked up, and Old Smoko shoved Billy a step forward so his foot just fitted in.

“You get first pick, Billy,” said the School Inspector.

“Old Smoko,” said Billy.

“We all knew you'd pick him,” said June Williams. “Just because he's your –”

“Mrs Strap,” said Johnny Bryce.

Billy looked at Mrs Strap who was striking attitudes and smacking her buttocks to let everyone see the terrifying results of her body-building course. “Harrietta Wilson,” he said.

“We all knew you'd pick her,” said June Williams. “Just because she's your –”

“June Williams,” said Johnny Bryce.

“Howard Ellery.”

“Meredith Rawiri.”

At last, there were twenty-six on Billy's side, twenty-five on Johnny's, and the only one left over was Mr Strap. “I suppose we have to take you,” Johnny Bryce said, and Mr Strap hung his head.

“We'll have you if nobody else wants you, Sir,” said the warm-hearted Harrietta Wilson.

“We'll take you, Sir,” said Billy, “besides, I might have cheated, picking up.”

“It's my turn!” shouted Johnny Bryce. “We're having him. He's not much use, but he can hand around the bits of orange at half-time.”

“Please, Sir, can we have your horse on our side?” Harrietta asked the School Inspector.

“Please, Sir, can you be on our side?” asked Johnny Bryce.

“No show!” said the School Inspector. “I'm reffing – on my horse. Toss up: heads or tails?” He spun the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement in the air, caught him coming down, put his hand over the little boy's head, and looked at Johnny Bryce.

“Heads!” Johnny called.

“Heads it is!”

“Beauty!” Johnny Bryce grinned. “We'll start off from the downhill end.”

“That means we'll have the wind against us for the first half and the sun in our eyes,” Harrietta said to Old Smoko. “And the wind against us for the second half, and the sun in our eyes again, and playing uphill when we're tired.”

“Never fear.” Old Smoko winked, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He held up his arms, and Harrietta saw his footy jersey had very big sleeves.

“I feel more confident already,” she said.

“We'll call Billy's side the Honkies,” said the School
Inspector.

“An offensive racist term,” a voice said from the back.

“And we'll call Johnny Bryce's side the Horis,” said the School Inspector. “Honkies versus Horis.”

“Another offensive racist term,” said the voice from the back.

Billy looked at Harrietta who looked back and shrugged. Everybody felt uncomfortable.

“Honky, Honky, Honky,” said the School Inspector.

“Honky, Honky, Honky,” everyone chanted.

“Hori, Hori, Hori,” said the School Inspector.

“Hori, Hori, Hori.”

“I'm a Honky,” said the School Inspector. “I'm a Hori.”

“I'm a Honky,” said half the school, and the other half said, “I'm a Hori.” Some people laughed nervously, and the first half said, “I'm a Hori,” and the other half said, “I'm a Honky,” and everyone laughed again – a bit nervously still.

“Hori, Honky, Hori,” said the School Inspector. “Honky, Hori, Honky. Hori-Honky-Hori-Honky-Donkey-Honky-Hori-Hunky-Dory –”

“Hori, Honky, Hori,” said everyone.

“Faster!” cried the School Inspector.

“Honky, Hori, Honky, Hori, Honky, Hori, Hunky Dory. Hori Hunky, Hurry, Hori, Dory, Honky, Donkey, Ponky, Honky, Hanky, Panky, Pinky, Pancake!”

“Pinky-Ponky-Panket,” babbled the voice from the back. “Where's my cuddy-blanket?” There was a pause, and somebody laughed out loud.

“Our side's versing the Horis!” said Harrietta Wilson.

“We're versing the Honkies!” said Meredith Rawiri.

“We're gunna vers youse Horis,” said the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement.

“You're supposed to be a Hori,” Harrietta told him. “We're the Honkies!”