OUR NEW SERIAL. Godfrey Guinea Pig in Clover

Dominion, Volume 24, Issue 50, 22 November 1930, Page 26

OUR NEW SERIAL. Godfrey Guinea Pig in Clover

Describing the wonderful adventures of a marvellous little animal in the land of make-believe.

Specially written for “The Junior Dominion” by LAURETTA MAUD WILLOUGHBY.

XIII.—THE PICNIC.

The fruit trees in the garden were coloured with little flowers; the young shoots clinging to the branches of the oak trees looked like tiny green lady-birds. Godfrey Guinea-Pig lay in bed listening to the sparrows chattering and hopping with a little tap —tap —over the roof.

“How happy I ami" he whispered, "how happy.” "I beg your pardon," said the house. "I—l’m just thinking out loud,” answered the guinea-pig, "listening to the birds and watching the sun upon the leaves and I feel so happy. I’l’ve a little sort of tight pain here." He put his paw to his throat. “It’s the spring, that’s what it is,” murmured the house. “I remember when I was first built, waking in the morning and finding myself in this garden. I felt like that—everything about me young and new—young hedges—new grass, faintly green, and oh! the early sky—the clouds, they seemed to float in the still air like enormous coloured birds."

“Oh-oo! go on telling me,” he cried. “Who lived here then?” r- ,

"It is so long ago it has become a dream,” answered the house. "Seedlings planted at that time have grown, into gigantic trees, gnarled and old, embittered by the wind. Who lived here? .. . Well, there was Peter, always tumbling down the stairs, and throwing his shoes into the fountain. Diana still in starched white pinafores and stiff white pique bonnets, and David, still wearing curls and petticoats; Jane, just starting school; and Mary Ann, beginning to knit kettle holders

“Excuse me,” interrupted the guineapig, “I think I hear somebody knocking —listen, it may be onlv the sparrows hopping on the roof. Is any one there?” he called, kneeling on the bed and poking his head through the window. “Oh .. . Good morning, mouse.” "Good morning,” answered Patrick respectfully, “I've a note here. . . ” He felt in his pockets, "from Mr. Hare.” "From Mr. Hare,” repeated the guineapig, leaning out of the window. ' / “Yes, and I’m to wait, for an answer,” said the mouse.

"Dear Godfrey (fie read), the day being so beautiful my thoughts turn to picnics. I’m packing a hamper, if you care to join me, be at the store in half an hour.—Hare.

"P.S.—Don’t wear anything that will spoil, and bring a cup.—H.” "A picnic!” he cried, "a picnic! Of course I’ll go. Thank Mr. Hare and tell him I’ll be delighted." He made himself a hasty cup of tea and sipped it while he was dressing; packed together several fat slices of iced cake, chocolates, and sugared biscuits, and set out.

He found Mr. Hare lying on his stomach tinkering with a motor-cycle. “Oh, here you are,” he said. "I’m glad you could come. Just hold this oil can. My cycle hasn't been out for some months and it needs a little adjusting.” “I didn’t know you had a motor-bike,” cried the guinea-pig excitedly. “What fun!"

“Yes. It’s rather a nice bike, isn't it?” said the hare proudly. "Built for speed you know. Patrick bring out the leather cushion for Mr. Guinea-pig to sit on. Have you strapped up the hamper? Don’t forget my field glasses. "I thought we’d go. for a spin first,” he said, turning to the guinea-pig. “And then have our lunch on some beach. Now if you climb on the back we’ll start. Patrick, run and open the gate ” "It won’t be as bumpy as this all the way,” he remarked. “Are you holding on? Quite comfortable?” "Yes, thank you," answered the little guinea-pig. “L—look out for the ruts Mr. Hare.”

“It’s all right," he laughed, "this bike will go over anything. It’s remarkable what it goes over.” "I—is it?" said the little guinea-pig. “Simply remarkable!’’ repeated Mr. Hare. “I’ll slow down—can you sec what’s written on that sign post?”

“Sixty miles to Sandy Beach,” read the guinea-pig. “Oh, then we’re on the right track,” he said. “Sandy Beach is a delightful spot —have you ever been there?” "I can’t say I have,” replied the guineapig. "H—hare, you’d better keep more to the side, there’s a bus coming.” “How big is it?” shouted the hare. “It—it’s a very big one,” cried the guinea-pig, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "I—l don’t think the road's wide enough for it to pass.” “How vexing,” cried the hare. “I'll have to get some speed up, we don’t want to be hounded by a bus all the way.”

He pressed the controls and with t loud wh-r-r-r, the bicycle bounded fotward.

“Hold fast to your hat,” he shouted. “And watch the lunch.”

"Oh, sound the horn!" implored the guinea-pig, as they whizzed past the hedges. “Keep sounding the horn—-we might crash into something around the corner.” “I’ll look after the corners,” he shouted. “You keep your eye on the basket. We must get well ahead—is it catching up?” "I—can’t see,” cried the guinea-pig, : "We’re causing such a dust. Oh, hare, look out! look out! There’s a eow on the path!”

"Out of the way, silly animal!!” yelled the hare, "out of the way!" “Speed fiends!" shouted the cow, leaping to safety, “I’ll ” “He’s taking our number,” eried th# guinea-pig, looking back. They tore round corners, flashing by, houses and paddocks and startling the sheep—faster and faster. ' Enormous woolly dogs with racking barks dashed wildly to the fences, and haughty chickens, all their feathers ruffled, scattered before them with indignant shrieks. ,

“Ruffians!” cackled the turkeys. '! "Rogues!” streamed the geese. ; Trees huddled together by the side of the. road like a group of cautious children waiting to cross to the other side. "Oh, please—please stop,” cried the little guinea-pig. I feel so bruised with bumping up and down.” ' '>i,'<

But. Mr. Hare had no intention of stopping, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Built for speed!” he shouted, "noth-'' ing ever passes me!” On and on, faster and faster, over and down, and up and around, bumping acroM little rickety bridges, past snug little farms, hemmed in with hedges. “Oh, please s—slow down!" begged the guinea-pig. "Please—please—.” "Very well,” shrilled the hare. “But oooo! I could go on forever.”

“Toot! Toot!” sounded behind them. "The bus!” cried the guinea-pig. “The bus. It’s catching up. Pull up by the fence and let them pass. “Never!” he shouted, and with a violent jerk they were off again even faster than before.

Horses grazing by the ditches reared their heads and galloped away in affright. “Oh, s-stop—s-stop,” pleaded th# guinea-pig- "I c-can’t hold on, I’m falling

"They're under the wheels,” yelled the driver, an excitable goat. “They fell right under the wheels. You are all here to witness. I—l’m a careful driver, I—”

“Oh, poor things, poor things!” sobbed a motherly stoat. of the windows, others were scrambling Some of the passengers had jumped out out of the emergency door.

“We’ll need the jacks,” shouted th# weasels, rolling up their sleeves. “Bring the jacks.” “Bandages!” cried Mrs. Ferret, hysterically, tearing at her children’s white petticoats. “Oh, if there was only a doctor among us,” sobbed the opossums. “Keep calm,” coughed a weasel, kneeling in the dust. “They are not as badly hurt as we thought. See—they are still breathing. Poor animals, they are yellow with dust. ... Be 1 very careful how you move them. . . . Yes, I think if we carry them over to that cool looking grass .... That’s right, undo their collars."

“What an escape!” breathed the goat. “If I hadn’t been a careful driver ‘” "Go and bring some water from the creek,” interrupted Mrs. Stoat, handing him a billy.’ “Look, the guinea-pig’s opening his eyes. . . . A-ha, you are feeling better —• and your friend—his eyes are opening too. "You wonder where you are? ... I should think you would ... a very lucky escape, you’ve had, young animals.” “If I hadn’t been a care—” The goat was cut short by the weasels. "Never mind,” “it’s all over now. What is it you say? Your bicycle? Poor animal, it’s broken to splinters. The wheels ran right over it. We thought—well never mind what we thought. You are quite safe now—and you’ve a lot to be thankful for. Try and stand up. Of course you must expect to feel bruised.” "Thank you," murmured the little guinea-pig, as they helped him to his feet. “I—l’ll be all right. Oh, yes, I’m quite able to walk."

“Our hamper,” groaned Mr. Hare. "I suppose the wheels passed over that too.” "I’m afraid so,” replied Mrs. Ferret, "but don’t let that worry you, the bus i« full of tempting lunches. We are all on our way to Sandy Beach.” "We were on our way there, too,” sighed the guinea-pig. "Well, if you both feel up to it,” said Mrs. Stoat, "there’s no reason why you shouldn’t come with us.”

“Is there room in the bus?” said Mr. Hare.

“Come along weasels," called Mrs. Ferret.

"We'll make room!" cried the goat. (To be concluded next Week.)

He clutched wildly at Mr. Hare. Mr. Hare lost his balance and let go the handle bars, the bicycle swerved and swung ■. around, and lay throbbing in the dust. “Toot! Toot! Toot!!” The bus was almost upon them. There were terrified screams from the passengers and a screeching of brakes.