Chapter 3
In the early hours when the woods lay sleeping, a faint breeze whistled round Sam’s bedroom window. For a second he fancied it may have called his name, but Sam was very tired and thought it all a weird dream. Early next day tiny pieces of putty floated mysteriously amongst the misty morning dew.
The night before the grand contest, Sam sensibly decided to turn in early. He’d almost dropped off when low voices stirred outside. Tiny flickering lights lit a small section of woods in the distance. Four men in dark clothes disappeared into the towering trees. Two carried large, suspicious bags. Something very strange was going on. Knowing mum would just tell him to go back to bed, Sam bravely followed them. After pumping the window closed as quietly as possible, Sam slipped into the dark, shadowy woods.
Phew, this was hard work. His pumps almost betrayed him; making startled birds squawk nervously. Sam tried desperately to concentrate on something else, but little plooty pumps still filtered out into the trees, popping softly and lighting up in the pale moonlight. It’s almost as if they had a mind of their own tonight. He had to be extra careful - he couldn’t afford to give himself away!
Shortly the noises stopped moving and Sam gazed down on four sly characters standing at a small campfire. Flickering flames lit up objects they passed round each other. Hang on - that was chatty Mrs Davis’s prized china tea set, and they were kind Mrs Peters gold candlesticks! The old dear couldn’t afford to lose them as they were to put her grandchildren through college! These filthy robbers planned moving on to the next village as soon as they’d divided up the loot. Sam knew there was no time to run for the police - he had to stop them now!
Using all his precious reserves, Sam rocketed into the clearing. In haste he hadn’t counted on the open fire which set his wind alight. He flew round and round uncontrollably at great speed, flaming wildly through trees like an unguided missile. Sam was so incredibly fast and the robbers were already so nervous, they rushed off back the way they came, straight into the arms of fat Sergeant Davis. Sam watched triumphantly from the woods as they were marched away. He didn’t show himself and take credit for it though, because he knew that’s not what real heroes did.
Little did Sam know then that the scheming Richard Rearguard had organised these robbers, knowing kind hearted Sam would help. Staying up late before a contest would break Sam’s concentration. That nasty Dick really did want the pumping crown so badly!
It was getting rather late now. Sam would have gladly climbed into bed again, only his earlier ploots had changed colour and shifted about till they hovered a tempting trail far deeper into the darkening woods. Such a curious boy felt compelled to follow.
After an awfully long time and many confusing twists and turns, Sam finally stumbled across a mysterious clearing. Ahead lay a cave decorated with strange etchings of ancient man and the power of their pumps. Rock was dressed with generations of bright, spongy moss and giant bendy trees bore strange forgotten fruit. Centuries had passed since man had set foot in this magical, peaceful place. Anyone accidentally straying too close felt faint, finding themselves returned to easier paths. Tonight the pumper’s fascinating power had the opposite effect on Sam, drawing him closer and closer. This had to be it – magical Pilberry Place, home of the legendary Phantom Pumper! He could hardly breathe with excitement at what he may find. Young Sam stood dumbstruck under the wobbly moon, watching, trembling, willing the pumper to make his presence felt.
Sam blinked. All of a sudden fresh pumps were floating around everywhere, creating fantastic shapes and animals. Newer pumps made feathery clouds, and older ones formed rich, rolling earth. Other longer pumps whooshed past at lightning speed. Soon the clearings tall trees disappeared and were replaced with an entirely new countryside scene made purely of brightly coloured pumps! Tiny clay huts now stood either side of the cave, and mysterious smells drifted out one. Sam was amazed. He’d always thought his pumping excellent, yet this show was something really special.
Just what else was happening here? It could only be...Yes, a tall, thin, incredibly bendy figure stepped out a buzzing bush, allowing pumps hiding there to scatter in plumes of energy. His long hat drooped to the floor, scraping his soft, velvet shoes and lighting his magnificent blue robes up in rolling arcs of sapphire. Fantastic trails of light flashed along the ground, wrapping Sam’s feet with dazzling sparks and lifting him off the ground.
“Magic, what fun eh? Only pumpers of many lifetimes can dream to create such a pumpers paradise!”
“Are you real?!”
“Once, but now I’m a phantom, living in an enchanted village made by precious pumps.”
“Ah...I knew it - The Phantom Pumper of Pilberry Place!”
“Indeed. This was my home centuries ago. What was once a small, thriving village has been forgotten in the confusing mists of time. In your world the forest has reclaimed it as its own.”
“No wonder no one could find you!”
“Your great grandfather came close once, except he didn’t see through my magical pumps. True, the kind fellow was dedicated enough to build the necessary skills, but hadn’t realised he needed to put them all together. He became confused by me pumping animal sounds round the forest. Forgive me, I had to test him. Then I pumped the sound of a flooding stream where there was none. Again, the dear old fellow couldn’t quite put the mystery together and moved on. Shame. I was younger then and could have taught him much about the fine art of pumping he’d never have dreamed of. Sam, I think he first pumped a little too late in life, whereas it’s always best to start earlier.”
“So why did you help me find you then?”
“Ah, I knew it, a clever child. Two reasons. First, your rival Richard Rearguard, he must be stopped.”
“I could probably beat him anyway. I don’t normally talk badly of people, only everyone says he’s very aggressive and arrogant, which is rarely a good thing.”
“Exactly!” the pumper cried loudly, “Rearguard takes pumping far too seriously! That way he’ll never become a truly world class pumper. I can see much of the future which drifts between my pumps, tiny little scenes which will come to pass. That Dick will cheat to win the contest. That must not be allowed to happen. If so he’ll eventually take over the world of pumping, sucking all joy, happiness and creativity out of the ancient craft. One should never frown at a pump, but Sam, that’s what will happen! Folk will have to follow his rules. Soon he’ll have folk disliking pumps. And the more folk dislike pumps, the more of those wonderful little fellows will migrate to other planets where their amazing skills are more appreciated and they can live in peace, free from such needless prejudice. If that happens, eventually I will no longer exist, for my friendly pumps help form my world as I fancy. Centuries of tradition and quality will disappear forever! Can you imagine it?! Sam, not many people know this, but pumps are actually kind, sensitive creatures whose goal is to learn and create. And as you probably know one must never go against the flow of pumps, but always with them. That way pumps gradually understand your intentions and learn to trust you. There were lots of things missing from your grandfather’s book Sam. For instance, how do you think I created all this magic? I could never have done it alone. Pumps are living, breathing, magical creatures with desires much like our own. They deserve our utmost respect. None of this could have ever happened if I’d foolishly tried forcing them against their will. Useless Dick will never understand these things. There was only one way to bring this important information to the world’s attention, and that time is very soon - that’s why I sent my little friend last night to wake you.”
“Ah, and I thought my damaged window frame may have something to do with those mean robbers.”
“Sam, you cannot afford to merely beat him. You must trounce him - out pump him enough so he gives up pumping for good. It’s the only way to be sure that the noble art of pumping is kept alive in its true form.”
The pumper gladly shared a little of the future that would come
to pass if Sam followed his advice carefully. Sam felt encouraged hearing Violet would eventually forgive his pumps, and that Mabel may calm down a little if Uncle Peter improved his silly jokes.
Knowing time was short, without further ado Pilberry’s Phantom Pumper whispered a wonderful trick that was only to be used in an emergency. If Sam won the contest, the pumper promised to show him how to control his pumps for long periods, or maybe even forever.