The Warrior Sheep Down Under by Christopher Russell Page B

much if a nit-picky solicitor took a tumble.” He nodded at Tod before moving away. “They’ve either gone into the office or the dungeon. I’d guess the office. Don’t get your nose caught.”
    Tod peered into the tower again. Mr. Creeply and Uncle Frank were standing in the office doorway, surveying the room in front of them. It ran right around the tower’s ground floor, inside the outer wall. A complete circle, like a hollow tire on a wheel. There was just one window and that let in very little light. The ceiling was made of stout wooden beams and planks, and from it hung a single ancient light bulb. Frank clicked the switch and the bulb lit the nearest part of the office, casting dark shadows beyond.
    Mr. Creeply tutted at the enormity of the task ahead. “Did I say two weeks?” he muttered.
    The room was littered with untidy piles of paperwork. It was stacked on the floor, on the filing cabinets, on the two chairs, and on the desk.
    â€œThere was never enough time to do this sort of stuff,” Frank said with a guilty sigh.
    Mr. Creeply carefully removed a pile of papers from a chair, fanned away the dust, and sat down at the desk. “I don’t eat much,” he said, clicking open his briefcase. “But would appreciate meals here at the desk. I shall sleep here too.”
    Frank nodded. “Right…” he said. “Right…”
    â€œPlease close the door on your way out,” added Mr. Creeply.
    Frank hesitated, turned, and stomped out, shutting the office door firmly. Tod heard him coming and nipped back across the bridge.
    â€œWell, mate,” said Uncle Frank as he joined him. “Did you get a good look?”
    Tod blushed scarlet again. “Er…”
    Uncle Frank laughed. “That rope bridge is a dead giveaway. You set it swinging like a pendulum on a clock.” He ruffled Tod’s hair. “I can smell the curry your Gran’s cooking for lunch. Let’s forget solicitors and get the fire hoses out.”
    As they strode back to the house, Tod suddenly remembered a question he’d been meaning to ask for some time. “Uncle Frank…supposing Alice Barton doesn’t complete the challenges Motte and Bailey set for her? What will happen to the sanctuary and everything then?”
    Frank shrugged. “If that happens, mate, it all comes to me.”

16
Bubble-Bubble
    Still in their raft on the Rotapangi River, the warriors were also becoming aware of a smell. And it wasn’t curry. With their fairy godtingy left far behind, they were floating helplessly on. But the river was getting wider. They could no longer see the banks on either side.
    â€œI think,” said Wills, “it’s become a lake. That’s sort of bigger than a pond but smaller than the ocean.”
    â€œMuch smaller than the ocean, dear,” said Sal, who had very good eyesight. “I can see land. There, look.”
    The sheep peered ahead over the rim of the raft.
    â€œIs that what stinks?” asked Oxo.
    They soon found out. The raft drifted across the lake and ran aground on a small beach, where the smell hung like a haze in the air.
    â€œPhaw…” said Links, wrinkling his nose. “It’s like that time Tod forgot to collect the eggs and they all went rotten, right?”
    â€œAnd what’s that funny noise?” asked Oxo suddenly. He scanned the beach, ready for action.
    They all clambered from the raft and stood listening.
    Bubble…Bubble…Plop…Bubble…Plop…Splat…Splash…Bubble…Bubble…
    â€œOhmygrassohymgrass…” whispered Jaycey. “What is that?”
    â€œBetter check it out,” said Oxo. He boldly led the way toward a narrow path on the far side of the beach.
    The warriors walked in single file along the path, which wound through the strangest landscape they’d ever seen. The ground was completely flat and vividly colorful, as if