Uncle Trev and the Whistling Bull Read Online Free Page B

father, old Mr Henry, had a grandfather clock that woke after twenty years’ silence and struck twelve times.”
    â€œWhat did he do?”
    â€œStuck his fingers in his ears so he couldn’t hear it strike thirteen, built another house up the back of the farm, shifted the family, and burned down the old house.”
    â€œDid they take the grandfather clock with them?”
    â€œOld Gotta keeps it in his bedroom. It doesn’t go, but he reckons it always chimes when there’s going to be an earthquake. He reckons as long as it does that, his house won’t fall down.”
    â€œIs your house safe from earthquakes?”
    â€œMostly. Although a mirror fell off the wall, the last shake we had.”
    â€œDid it break?”
    Uncle Trev nodded. “I waited seven hours, buried the bits by moonlight, and Old Tip put back his head and howled. Old Gotta heard Old Tip howling, and knew it meant somebody was going to die. He jumped out of the wrong side of bed, flattened his nose against the wall so it bled, barked his shin on a stool, and ran into the door end on and gave himself a black eye. He tore through the house, switching on all the lights. I saw them go on, and went over to make sure he was all right.
    â€œHow was I to know the old coot had left a kerosene tin in the shadows outside his back door? It made a terrific bang when I tripped over it. I slung the kerosene tin on the roof, just to liven up Old Gotta. Clang. Clang. Clang.
    â€œOld Gotta shrieked, and ran into his old grandfather clock, which chimed thirteen times. I hooted like a morepork, gave a groan or two, sneaked home, and slept like a top.
    â€œYou should have heard Old Gotta next day, about how the earthquake shook his grandfather clock and set it chiming. ‘You won’t believe this, Trev,’ he said to me, ‘but the shock sent a kerosene tin flying up on my roof.’
    â€œ ‘ I thought I heard shrieking,’ I said.
    â€œ ‘ Not from me,’ Old Gotta lied. ‘I thought I heard screaming coming from your place.’
    â€œ ‘ Old Tip,’ I told him.
    â€œ ‘ That’s funny,’ said Old Gotta. ‘I noticed the lights come on over at your place.’
    â€œ ‘ Old Tip,’ I said. ‘He runs round turning on the light in every room when he gets scared of the dark.’
    â€œ ‘ Huh!’ said Old Gotta. ‘The dark never worries me.’ ”
    â€œI’d like to hear some of Nellie’s ghost stories, Uncle Trev.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” demanded my mother’s voice. “As if it’s not bad enough having to have the light on all night, without any talk of ghost stories.” But before she’d finished, Uncle Trev had ducked past her and gone for his life.
    That night, I thought of him, and Old Tip, and Old Toot, and Old Satan, all of them barking because they were scared of the dark. And of Mr Henry waking up shrieking and getting out of the wrong side of his bed, and I snorted.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Mum called from her room.
    â€œI just barked,” I told her. “Uncle Trev said that shows you’re not scared of the dark.”
    â€œYou close your eyes and get off to sleep,” said Mum’s voice, and I knew she was standing at her door. “And let’s have no more of this nonsense. I’ll give that uncle of yours barking, next time he comes in. Of all the crazy ideas…”
    â€œHe and Mr Henry bark at the dark,” I told Mum.
    â€œThey should think themselves lucky, the pair of them, that they’re not put away for their own good.”
    I nearly told her they’d have to put away Old Tip, and Old Toot, and Old Satan, too, but I must have gone to sleep. And when I woke in the morning, I thought it was probably best not to say anything more about barking at the dark.

Chapter Six
    The Tree That Ate People
    â€œAre you going to tell me one of