sailin' by Barbado,
  The Saucy Soup Tureen,
Before she could be stayed-O
Went down in a tornado,
  And never more was seen.

"The passengers were sunk all
  Beneath the ragin' wave,
The maiding and her Uncle,
The Noble Hearl of Buncle,
Were saved by Sam the Brave.

"He saved the Noble Buncle
  By divin' off the poop.
The maiding in a funk all
He saved along with Uncle
  Upon a chicken coop.

"And this here niece of Buncle,
  When they got safe to land,
For havin' saved her Uncle,
The Noble Hearl of Buncle,
  She offered Sam her hand.

"And that old Uncle Buncle,
  For joy of his release,
On burgundy got drunk all
Day in Castle Buncle,
  Which hastened his decease.

"The lovely maiding Buncle
  Inherited the land;
And, now her aged Uncle
Has gone, the Hearl of Buncle
  Is Sam, the foremast hand."

"Of course," said Sam modestly, "the song goes too far in sayin' as how I married the Hearl's niece, because, for one thing, I ain't a marryin' man, and for another thing, what she really sez to me when we got to land was, "You're a noble feller, an' here's five shillin's for you, and any time you happen to be round our way, just give a ring at the servant's bell, and there'll always be a feed waitin' for you in the kitchen." However, you've got to have songs to fill in the time with, and when a feller's got a rotten word like Buncle to find rhymes for, there's no sayin' how a song'll end."

"The exigencies of rhyme," said Bunyip Bluegum, "may stand excused from a too strict insistence on verisimilitude, so that the general gaiety is thereby promoted. And now," he added, "before retiring to rest, let us all join in song," and grasping each other's hands they loudly sang—

THE PUDDIN'-OWNERS' EVENSONG

"Let feeble feeders stoop
To plates of oyster soup.
  Let pap engage
  The gums of age
And appetites that droop;
  We much prefer to chew
  A steak-and-kidney stew.

"We scorn digestive pills;
Give us the food that fills;
  Who bravely stuff
  Themselves with Duff,
May laugh at Doctors' bills.
  For medicine, partake
  Of kidney, stewed with steak.

"Let yokels coarse appease
Their appetites with cheese.
  Let women dream
  Of cakes and cream,
We scorn fal-lals like these;
  Our sterner sex extols
  The joy of boiled jam rolls.

"Then plight our faith anew
Three puddin'-owners true,
  Who boldly claim
  In Friendship's name
The noble Irish stoo,
Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurroo!"

SLICE THREE

"After our experience of yesterday," said Bill Barnacle as the company of Puddin'-owners set off along the road with their Puddin', "we shall have to be particularly careful. For what with low puddin' thieves disguisin' themselves as firemen, and low Wombats sneakin' our Puddin' while we're helpin' to put out fires, not to speak of all the worry and bother of tryin' to get information out of parrots an' bandicoots an' hedgehogs, why, it's enough to make a man suspect his own grandfather of bein' a puddin'-snatcher."

"As for me," said Sam Sawnoff, practising boxing attitudes as he walked along. "I feel like laying out the first man we meet on the off-chance of his being a puddin'-thief."

"Indeed," observed Bunyip Bluegum, "to have one's noblest feelings outraged by reposing a too great trust in unworthy people, is to end by regarding all humanity with an equal suspicion."

"If you ask my opinion," said the Puddin' cynically, "them puddin'-thieves are too clever for you; and what's more, they're better eaters than you. Why," said the Puddin', sneering at Bill, "I'll back one puddin'-thief to eat more in a given time than three Puddin'owners put together."

"These are very treacherous sentiments, Albert," said Bill, sternly. "These are very ignoble and shameless words," but the Puddin' merely laughed scornfully, and called Bill a bun-headed old beetle-crusher.

"Very well," said Bill, enraged, "we shall see if a low puddin' thief is better than a noble Puddin'-owner. When you see the terrible suspicions I shall indulge in to-day you'll regret them words."

To prove his words Bill insisted on closely inspecting everybody he met, in case they should be puddin'-thieves in disguise.

To start off with, they had an unpleasant scene with a Kookaburra, a low larrikin who resented the way that Bill examined him.

"Who are you starin' at, Poodle's Whiskers?" he asked.

"Never mind," said Bill. "I'm starin' at you for a good an' sufficient reason."

"Are yer? " said the Kookaburra. "Well, all I can say is that if yer don't take yer dial outer the road I'll bloomin' well take an' bounce a gibber off yer crust," and he followed them for quite a long way, singing out insulting things such as, "You with the wire whiskers," and "Get onter the bloke with the face fringe."

Bill, of course, treated this conduct with silent contempt. It was his rule through life, he said, never to fight people with beaks.

The next encounter they had was with a Flying-fox who, though not so vulgar and rude as the Kookaburra was equally enraged because, as Bill had suspicions that he was the Possum disguised, he insisted on measuring him to see if he was the same length.

"Nice goings on, indeed," said the Flying-fox, while Bill was measuring him, "if a man can't go about his business without being measured by total strangers. A nice thing, indeed, to happen to Finglebury Flying-fox, the well-known and respected fruit stealer."

However, he was found to be six inches too short, so they let him go, and he hurried off, saying, "I shall have the Law on you for this, measuring a man in a public place without being licensed as a tailor."

The third disturbance due to Bill's suspicions occurred while Bunyip Bluegum was in a grocer's shop. They had run out of tea and sugar, and happening to pass through the town of Bungledoo took the opportunity of laying in a fresh supply. If Bunyip hadn't been in the shop, as was pointed out afterwards, the trouble wouldn't have occurred. The first he heard of it was a scream of "Help, help, murder is being done!" and rushing out of the shop, what was his amazement to see no less a person than his Uncle Wattleberry bounding and plunging about the road with Bill hanging on to his whiskers, and Sam hanging on to one leg.

"I've got him," shouted Bill. "Catch a holt of his other leg and give me a chance to get his whiskers off."

"But why are you taking his whiskers off?" inquired Bunyip
Bluegum.

"Because they're stuck on with glue," shouted Bill. "I saw it at a glance. It's Watkin Wombat, Esquire, disguised as a company promoter."

"Dear me," said Bunyip, hurriedly, "you are making a mistake.
This is not a puddin'-thief, this is an Uncle."

"A what?" exclaimed Bill, letting go the whiskers. "An Uncle," replied Bunyip Bluegum.

"An Uncle," roared Uncle Wattleberry. "An Uncle of the highest integrity. You have most disgracefully and unmercifully pulled an Uncle's whiskers."

"I can assure you," said Bill, "I pulled them under the delusion that you was a disguised