The Five Fakirs of Faizabad by P. B. Kerr

Author:P. B. Kerr [Kerr, P. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-545-34689-4
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2010-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

RUMBLE IN THE FOREST

Groanin had two things going for him as he ran away from the grizzly bear. One thing was that he’d been attacked by a large and fierce animal before — a white tiger — and, hardly wanting to repeat the experience, this helped to make him run much faster.

On that previous occasion, the tiger had torn off his arm and eaten it and for a long time Groanin had lived his life as a butler with one arm. But then John and Philippa and their friend Dybbuk had been obliged to create a new arm for him so that he might more easily wind them up and down a well in an old British fortress in India. And, of course, being djinn they had endowed him with not just any old new arm but an arm that was much, much stronger than his previous one.

That was the other thing he had going for him.

The new, stronger arm was handy when removing very tight lids from those little pots of marmalade you got in hotels and showing off to young ladies who were struggling with heavy suitcases; it meant he could carry two bags of coal up from the cellar instead of one; and in Italy once, he’d had to fight an angel named Sam who fancied himself as a bit of an all-in wrestler. But apart from that, Groanin had not had much use for a significantly stronger arm. At least he hadn’t until now and, turning around to face the bear — for Groanin realized he could run no farther — Groanin punched it hard on the nose.

The blow would certainly have rendered a grown man unconscious, but grizzlies can weigh up to a thousand pounds, which makes them a lot harder to knock out in a fistfight. Groanin punched the bear again, which hardly encouraged the bear to feel any more kindly disposed toward him. The huge grizzly roared with pain and backed away, lashing out with its huge claws at Groanin. Fortunately, it missed. The bear was not, however, inclined to give up on a promising-looking meal — even one that packed a good right hand. Contrary to what most people believe about bears, they like meat, especially when late snow on the ground makes it harder to forage for the other things they like to eat.

The bear rose up on its thick hind legs, lifting its vulnerable and already bloody nose clear of Groanin’s lightning right hook, and calculating that, in this way, the man wouldn’t have the reach of arm to hurt it again. It was a shrewd calculation. The man would have to come in close to land a blow in the bear’s belly, and risk getting mauled in the clinch.

Shuffling around in a circle, the two combatants faced each other off. The bear threw a couple of clumsy haymakers. Groanin kept his right hand up high, ready to throw it if the bear dropped down on all fours again.

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