"It's worse than beetles in the soup, It's worse than crows to eat. It's worse than wearin' small-sized boots Upon your large-sized feet. "It's worse than kerosene to boose, It's worse than ginger hair. It's worse than anythin' to lose A Puddin' rich and rare." Bunyip Bluegum reproved this despondency, saying "Come, come, this is no time for giving way to despair. Let us, rather, by the fortitude of our bearing prove ourselves superior to this misfortune and, with the energy of justly enraged men, pursue these malefactors, who have so richly deserved our vengeance. Arise! "The grass is green, the day is fair, The dandelions abound. Is this a time for sad despair And sitting on the ground? "Let gloom give way to angry glare, Let weak despair be drowned, Let vengeance in its rage declare Our Puddin' must be found. "Our Puddin' in some darksome lair In iron chains is bound, While puddin'-snatchers on him fare, And eat him by the pound. "Then let's resolve to do and dare. Let teeth with rage be ground. Let voices to the heavens declare Our Puddin' MUST be found." "Bravely spoken," said Bill, immediately recovering from despair. "Those gallant words have fired our blood," said Sam, and they both shook hands with Bunyip, to show that they were now prepared to follow the call of vengeance. In order to investigate this dastardly outrage," said Bunyip, "we must become detectives, and find a clue. We must find somebody who has seen a singed possum. Once traced to their lair, mother-wit will suggest some means of rescuing our Puddin'." They set off at once, and, after a brisk walk, came to a small house with a signboard on it saying, "Henderson Hedgehog, Horticulturist." Henderson himself was in the garden, horticulturing a cabbage, and they asked him if he had chanced to see a singed possum that morning. "What's that? What, what?" said Henderson Hedgehog, and when they had repeated the question, he said, " You must speak up, I'm a trifle deaf." "Have you seen a singed possum?" shouted Bill. "I can't hear you," said Henderson. "Have you seen a SINGED POSSUM?" roared Bill. "To be sure," said Henderson, "but the turnips are backward." "Turnips be stewed," yelled Bill in such a tremendous voice that he blew his own hat off. "HAVE YOU SEEN A SINGED POSSUM?" "Good season for wattle blossom," said Henderson. "Well, yes, but a very poor season for carrots." "A man might as well talk to a carrot as try an' get sense out of this runt of a feller," said Bill, disgusted. "Come an' see if we can't find someone that it won't bust a man's vocal cords gettin' information out of."