Read Online Uncle Trev and the Whistling Bull by Jack Lasenby - Free Book Online

had gone. I could hear Mum bustling around in the kitchen.
    â€œUncle Trev popped in,” I called out.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œUncle Trev came in.”
    â€œAs if I hadn’t smelt him and his dirty old dog the moment I put my foot inside the back door.”
    â€œMum, Uncle Trev told me about the ghost that Mr Shunter and Ken Quaver saw down the hall. It’s Napoleon’s ghost, he said, carrying his head under his arm and crying because Captain Cook beat him at the Battle of Waharoa and made him sign the Treaty of Waitangi or he’d get his block knocked off.”
    â€œThere ought to be a law against that man coming in and filling you up with his stories. Napoleon never came within cooee of Waharoa. And he was dead long before the Treaty of Waitangi.”
    â€œUncle Trev said you’d remember better than him.”
    â€œWhat on earth they’re going to do with you when you go back to school, I don’t know. Filling you up with all that wicked rubbish about Napoleon and Captain Cook and the Treaty of Waitangi.
    â€œNow, hold your nose and drink this because the doctor said it’ll make you better, and you can have a piece of cake to take away the taste. Don’t go wrinkling up your nose. Just hold your breath, and down it goes. Oh, come on, it’s not as bad as that.”
    â€œI wish I could put my head under my arm like old Boney, and then I wouldn’t be able to taste the medicine.”
    â€œIf wishes were horses, beggars could ride. That’s it. Here’s your cake. I’ve a good mind to make that uncle of yours drink a glass of your medicine. Perhaps that’ll stop him telling those stories.”
    â€œMum,” I said, “do you remember Napoleon?”
    â€œHow would I remember Napoleon?”
    â€œUncle Trev said you would. Well, he said you’ve got a lot more to remember because you’re so much older than him.”
    â€œNapoleon died long before my mother was born.” Mum looked at me and spoke very slowly. “And I’m only a year older than your uncle, and don’t you forget it…I’ll give that man Napoleon’s ghost next time he comes in.”

Chapter Twelve
    The Day the Barbarians Sacked Waharoa
    Before Mum let Uncle Trev into the house, she went out and searched his lorry to make sure he didn’t have Gotta Henry hidden.
    â€œJust that smelly old dog sitting up in the cab and imagining he’s a Christian,” she said, coming back in. “You see your uncle doesn’t go bringing it inside.”
    â€œAw.”
    â€œAll right. Your uncle can bring it around so you can say hello through the window, but no opening it, now. We don’t want a chill. The air outside’s quite brisk.
    â€œI’m off to the flower show at Hinuera. I never feel easy, leaving the house with your uncle here. When I think of that time I came home and saw smoke rising from the backyard…Making gunpowder, indeed. Upsetting the neighbours, and putting the chooks off laying. There’s Mrs Burns tooting. I must run.”
    â€œImagine the cackle in that car,” said Uncle Trev. “Your mother, Mrs Burns, and Mrs Dripnose all squawking together.”
    â€œMrs Diprose.”
    â€œThat’s what I said. None of them listening to the others. Shrieking, waving, and nodding their silly hats like a carful of turkeys shaking their wattles and going ‘Gobble, gobble, gobble.’ ”
    I grinned, so Uncle Trev gobbled again and said, “Your mother made me swear I wouldn’t bring Old Tip through the door.”
    â€œShe said I could say hello through the window.”
    â€œWell, say it.”
    I looked through the window and there was Old Tip. “Hello,” I said and waved, and Old Tip bounced and barked.
    â€œThat’s all right then. You’ve done what she told you to do.” Uncle Trev opened the window, and Old Tip leapt through, snuffled and