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Authors: Margaret Pearce

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BOOK: The Week at Mon Repose
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Chapter Six

 

The four of them rode the horses around to the front of Mon Repose. The three girls were silent as they worried over what would happen to Ahmed if Mr. Masterton didn't get back in time.

“Everything that happens is meant to happen,” Ahmed said at last. “So let us enjoy my three days and don't worry about it.”

“Garbage!” Marilyn said suddenly. “There's no such thing as meant to happen. We'll just find a way to send you back ourselves.”

“How?” Allie and Jenny chorused.

“We'll use the Ouija board,” Marilyn replied. “It got him to us and it can send him back.”

“Doesn't sound like the traditional way of summoning and dismissing genies,” Ahmed said doubtfully.

“Take it from us, it works,” Marilyn said. “We'll try it out as soon as it gets dark tonight.”

“At midnight,” Allie said. “It seemed to work right at midnight last time.”

With that worry under control, the three girls cheered up. They tethered the horses by the front veranda and went through Mon Repose to the kitchen.

Mrs. Marybone seemed a bit puzzled by the explanation that Ahmed had brought his own horses up with him and that they were going riding. “Didn't notice any horse float,” she kept muttering as she packed them a picnic hamper for their lunches.

Ahmed secured the hamper to his saddle and helped them mount again. They set off at an easy trot across the paddocks. The horses moved beautifully. Sometimes they cantered, and once they had a race across country, the winning post being the fence of the National Park. Ahmed on Caliph, beat Marilyn although she rode a very good race on Fatima.

“Bet Fatima could beat any race horse,” Marilyn said, as she pulled up to wait for the others.

Marilyn didn't look a bit like Marilyn. She looked like a nice, happy, ordinary girl. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were very pink. Her bright pink eye shadow and black lipstick seemed to have rubbed off as she galloped.

“My beauties are the fastest horses in Arabia,” Ahmed bragged. “Of course they could beat any other horses in a race.”

“We can take one of the tracks down to the falls and stop there for our lunch,” Marilyn suggested.

They rode across the car park, past the barbecues and toilets, and paused at the barred gate in front of the foot track. The sign by the side of the gate had a horse, a dog, and a trail bike pictured on it, all with strokes through them.

“So we aren't allowed to take horses, dogs, or trail bikes into the National Park,” Jenny said.

“They're not likely to have Rangers checking a National Park in the middle of nowhere,” Marilyn scoffed.

She backed Fatima and jumped the gate. Jenny let out a startled squeal as Scherazade jumped the gate after Fatima, and then Zenobia, ignoring Allie's tugs on the reins, also jumped. Caliph jumped after them, and shouldered his way to the front.

The horses' hooves made no sound on the soft leaf litter, and the only noise was the jingle of the harnesses. No one bothered to talk or to chatter. They were too busy enjoying riding along the winding bush-lined track.

Allie was in front with Ahmed, and Jenny and Marilyn had fallen behind. Suddenly her horse stopped dead, its ears back.

A chainsaw roared to life just around the curve. Scherazade reared. Ahmed reached out to grab for the bridle but missed. Scherazade bolted forward and around the curve of the track with Caliph beside her and the other two horses close behind. The chainsaw stopped and so did the four horses.

“Oh!” Allie said.

Two Rangers looked up. They were sawing off a big tree that had fallen across the path. Their faces were grim and unfriendly at the sight of the four horses and their riders.

Allie's heart sank at the sight of them. Her heart sank even further as she saw one of the Rangers unclip a mobile phone.

“You city folk seem think rules about the National Park are a bit of a hoot, don't you?” one of the Rangers said. “Well, this time you aren't getting away with it.” He was phoning as he spoke. “George, bring the float up. There are four horses illegally in the National Park that belong in the Pound, and four kids to be fined for wrecking native vegetation and damaging walking trails.”

Allie and Jenny looked at each other in dismay. They were in big trouble. And it was all their fault. Poor Ahmed's beautiful horses were going to be impounded.

How could they find the money to bail four horses out of the Pound in three days? Or even in twelve months, Allie thought gloomily to herself, remembering how broke their families always said they were.

 

Chapter Seven

 

The three girls and Ahmed were at last free to leave the Pound, hot and bad-tempered from arguing, and without the horses.

The girls had hoped Ahmed would remember he was a genie and rescue them before the horses were impounded. Why had he carried on like an ordinary kid caught by the Rangers and done absolutely nothing?

He had been very quiet from the time they had tumbled into the back seat of the four-wheel drive towing the horse float to the Pound. He had unsaddled the horses without a word and watched them walk into the high, fenced paddock, the gate locking behind them.

It seemed a very final end to their wonderful day of horse riding, and it was barely lunchtime. Now they were going to have to trudge the long, hot distance to Mon Repose carrying saddles and bridles. Ahmed had insisted on carrying the picnic hamper as well as his heavy saddle and jingling bridle.

The Ranger had been totally unsympathetic to Marilyn's suggestion that he should drive them back to the guesthouse.

“You kids are lucky you aren't getting fined,” he said. “Ring your parents to collect you.”

“We don't want to worry them,” Marilyn said.

“In that case,” the Ranger said, “start marching.”

“Why didn't you turn him into a toad or a donkey or something?” Marilyn demanded as soon as they were around the next bend.

“I've never learned to do anything like that,” Ahmed said sadly. “I feel I have let you all down badly.”

“You can change food and drink around, though,” Allie said.

“People are a lot harder,” Ahmed explained.

“It's not your fault,” Jenny said. “We knew we weren't supposed to take the horses into the park, but it's dreadful that your beautiful horses are impounded.”

“They had no right to impound the horses,” Allie fumed.

“At least we're not being fined,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, but to charge one hundred dollars a horse is sick! I bet it's only ten dollars each, and they're pocketing the rest,” Marilyn grumbled. “Where are we supposed to find four hundred dollars?”

“Could Ahmed sell one of the gems from the bridle?” Allie asked.

“Sell where?” Marilyn jeered. “The dump down the road has a general store, a pub, and a petrol station. Besides, jewellers are suspicious of kids selling jewellery.”

“Could we sell them?” Jenny asked Ahmed.

Ahmed shook his head. “The gems and the horses will vanish when I do.”

“Well, everything will be all right then,” Allie said, cheering up.

“Except the Ranger has our names and addresses,” Marilyn pointed out. “What if he accuses us of stealing the horses back when they vanish, and expects our parents to pay anyway?”

“We'll have to find the four hundred dollars before Ahmed goes back,” Allie said.

“How?” Jenny asked.

“I vote we stop and eat,” Marilyn said. “I'm so hot and dusty and tired I can't think straight.”

“I'm not hungry,” Jenny said with a sigh. “I'd rather keep going until we get to Mon Repose.”

“The picnic hamper will be lighter to carry if it's empty,” Marilyn pointed out.

“Sensible thinking,” Allie agreed.

She flopped down on the stony edge of the road, putting down the saddle carefully. The others sat down beside her. The sun glared down out of a cloudless sky, much hotter than when they'd set off. On each side of the road stretched dried-out, uninteresting paddocks. There was no shade at all.

“If only we still had the horses,” Jenny sighed as she looked across the paddocks to the straggling line of trees in the distance.

“A picnic lunch by the riverbank would be better than here,” Allie agreed, following her gaze. “Except we haven't got the horses, and it's too hot to walk that far.”

“If I owned a magic carpet, I could offer it to you,” Ahmed said gloomily. “Alas, I am master of a herd of twenty goats, six asses, six camels, and seven horses. In this strange country of yours, I am lower than the dust.”

“You are a genie, and that's something special,” Jenny said.

“I could call up some baggage camels, but they are hardly fit steeds for you,” Ahmed said shyly.

“Why didn't you think of that earlier?” Marilyn demanded.

“You didn't ask, and I didn't think,” Ahmed admitted. He gave his flashing smile. “Genies are only supposed to do what they are asked.”

“Well, we're asking you to bring up your camels right now,” Marilyn said.

“I will call them up in the paddock where no one can see us,” Ahmed promised. “I don't want to get into any more trouble by going against your laws.”

The girls picked up the saddles, followed Ahmed over the barbed wire fence, and trudged to the centre of the paddock. Ahmed gestured. The girls looked around. There was nothing to see!

Ahmed flashed his white grin at them and pointed. They looked around again. Four camels kneeled beside them, blending like hummocks in the dry grass of the paddock. What looked like wooden platforms were strapped across the humps of three of them, and there was a saddle on the fourth one.

“So how do you ride a camel?” Marilyn asked. She lifted the saddle onto the wooden platform and climbed up behind it. “There's nothing to hang on to.”

“They will move very slowly and carefully after the lead camel,” Ahmed said. “You shouldn't fall off.”

Allie and Jenny also put their saddles on the wooden platforms on the other two camels, sat on the wooden platforms clutching the saddles, and waited. Ahmed got on the last camel, settling the saddle and the picnic hamper firmly in front of him. When his camel rose, the others followed. The wooden platforms swayed and lurched as the camels walked, and the girls clung on to the platform and the saddles.

“Camels are known as ships of the desert,” Jenny announced.

“Ships of the desert are right,” Marilyn groaned. “I feel seasick.”

“Be patient,” Ahmed said. “We will soon be there.”

“A lot better than walking,” Allie said.

The countryside wasn't that interesting, but being so high gave a different view of the world. The line of trees marking the river didn't look very far away at all.

The camels moved lazily along in single file. They reached the first barbed wire fence. Allie was a bit worried. Did camels jump fences? Was Ahmed going to cut the fence to let them through? Ahmed stayed on his camel. She thought he made a gesture, but she wasn't sure.

The four camels kept up their even pace through the fence. Allie looked back. The fence was unbroken, and they were heading across the paddock towards and then through the next stretch of barbed wire.

Two fences later, they reached the line of the trees. The camels lurched down the steep bank and walked along the riverbed. Around the next bend, beside one of the larger pools of water, was a big, striped blue and white tent set up under the shade of a gum tree.

The sides of the tent were rolled up, showing piles of cushions scattered on thick red carpet.

“Someone must be camping here,” Allie said doubtfully. “We'd better keep going.”

“Here we can eat lunch in comfort,” Ahmed explained.

He clicked his fingers. The camels folded themselves down. Ahmed took his saddle and the picnic basket and slid off his camel. He carried them into the tent, put them down, and looked at the girls.

The girls slid off the camels, carrying the saddles with them, walked into the tent, and dropped down on the carpet with sighs of relief.

“What a cool idea,” Marilyn said. “I think you are pretty smart for a genie, Ahmed.”

“Just the usual services,” Ahmed said looking pleased.

“Raspberry vinegar to drink, corned beef sandwiches and fruitcake for afters,” Allie said as she unpacked plastic plates and cups.

“Even something weird like raspberry vinegar is welcome,” Marilyn said. “I'm so thirsty.”

The raspberry vinegar was warm, as was everything else in the picnic basket, but the three girls were thirsty and hungry, and they finished everything that had been packed. What made everything nicer was sitting on the soft cushions under the shade of the big striped tent.

“First on our agenda is finding four hundred dollars,” Marilyn announced after they had finished eating. She looked at Ahmed. “You're a genie. Could you conjure it up?”

“No.”

There was a dejected silence. Jenny started to tidy up, carefully smoothing out the newspaper used to line the basket. Allie started to fold the sheets.

“What date is that paper?” Marilyn said sharply as she snatched it from Allie.

“Yesterday's paper and so what?” Allie asked.

“Our problem's solved,” Marilyn said. Jenny and Allie stared at her. “How can you two be so slow?” She flapped the sheet of paper under their nose. “There's something called the local picnic races on tomorrow!”

“So?” Allie questioned.

“Simple! We steal Caliph out of the Pound. Ahmed races Caliph, who is the fastest horse around, against the local donkeys and wins enough prize money to solve our problems.”

“What if we get caught?” Allie said doubtfully. “I've never stolen a horse before.”

“You guys are such nerds!” Marilyn said. “It's not really stealing because it's Ahmed's horse anyway. It'll be easy as falling off a log.”

“I've never fallen off a log before,” Jenny whispered, looking worried.

“Just remember, if the horses vanish when Ahmed does, we might still have to find the four hundred dollars because the Pound will assume we've nicked them anyway,” Marilyn pointed out.

There was a worried silence. Allie and Jenny looked at each other. It was wonderful to have met and made friends with a genie, but life had suddenly gotten very complicated.

BOOK: The Week at Mon Repose
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