The Wombles to the Rescue Read Free Page B

oil.’
    â€˜Why are the bookshelves full of holes and rot?’
    â€˜No Womble anti-hole-and-rot mixture left in the Workshop.’
    â€˜Ho-hum. What stores are left in the pantry?’
    â€˜Not many bottles of dried toadstool, bracken flour is low and the powdered dandelion casks are nearly empty. Here, I say, Bulgaria . . .’ Tobermory suddenly stopped looking mournful and straightened up, ‘you don’t mean that WE ’ RE going to be short of all kinds of useful things AND food?’
    â€˜I shouldn’t be surprised, Tobermory. It certainly looks like it. It’s Womble-world-wide this problem, which is why I’ve been invited to the United States of America. There’s to be this big meeting there to try and work out what’s to be done. If we Wombles don’t start doing something, goodness knows what might happen.’
    â€˜You mustn’t go on your own,’ said Tobermory, quite forgetting his own troubles, as he looked at his old friend. Nobody knew quite what Great Uncle Bulgaria’s age was, but at this particular moment he looked so old and sad that Tobermory felt very worried. ‘I’d better come with you,’ he said gruffly. ‘No good tiring yourself out. I know what these American Wombles are like, all talk-talk-talk . . .’
    Tobermory had always been just a little bit jealous of Cousin Yellowstone Womble from America, and he was quite sure that if some Womble didn’t cross the Atlantic with Great Uncle Bulgaria, something simply awful might happen. Great Uncle Bulgaria might become so overworked, he might even fall ill . . .
    A great shiver went through Tobermory’s grey fur at the very idea and Great Uncle Bulgaria, pulling his MacWomble tartan shawl more closely round his shoulders, said, ‘Now then, Tobermory, stop imagining this, that and the other. I agree with you that the American Wombles are great talkers, which is why I’ve decided to take a great British talker with me! And it won’t be you, because you’ve got more than enough work here to get on with. Goodness gracious me, Tobermory, this whole burrow would collapse and vanish if you weren’t here to look after it.’
    â€˜There’s Botany,’ said Tobermory, a shade of doubt in his voice. ‘He could run the place, I suppose.’ He was secretly very pleased about what Great Uncle Bulgaria had just said, but he wasn’t going to let on.
    â€˜Botany lives in a world of his own. Always has done. That’s how he arrived in this country from Australia in the first place so the story goes. He went down to the Sydney docks to look for supplies, climbed on board the first ship he came to, saw something which took his interest and went to investigate it. The next thing he knew was that the ship was heading out to sea with him on board and . . .’
    â€˜What was it that interested Botany so much?’ asked Tobermory, quite forgetting his own worries, as this extraordinary piece of Womble history came to light.
    â€˜Nobody has ever quite liked to ask,’ said Great Uncle Bulgaria rather sternly. ‘And Botany has never actually told anybody. He may have forgotten what it was himself. He’s a most absent-minded Womble, even more so than Wellington. Which, Tobermory, brings me back to the problem in hand. Botany definitely will NOT do to run this burrow while I’m away. You are the only Womble I can be certain will do the job efficiently. All the other Wombles trust you AND you will know the best way to get everything working properly again.’
    â€˜Yes, I dare say,’ said Tobermory, ‘that’s all very fine, Bulgaria. But how, may I ask, can I, when I haven’t got the STUFF TO DO IT WITH !’
    â€˜I’m sure you’ll find a way, Tobermory, you always do. Dear me, it’s turning quite chilly, I think I shall return to the burrow.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, yes, but hang on a moment,