Professor Cutpurse

A pink river stone lay at Poppy's feet. She kicked it and Fisher gave chase, deftly picking it up in his mouth while still on the run.

'Clever boy, Fish,' she said, as the dog came trotting back to her. He dropped the stone at her feet. Poppy was about to kick it again when she suddenly smelled the wonderful aroma of roasting meat.

Fisher took off in the direction of the smell along a narrow track.

'Come here, Fish!' Poppy called. But it was no use. Whenever he smelt food, he would go back to his wild ways.

Poppy was so glad she had met Fisher. He had been her constant companion on her journey to find her brother, Gus. She had been tracking Gus for two and a half months, and the trail led to Beechworth.

Will he be here? Poppy wondered. And will the gold nugget, the one that old Murray Cod gave me, be worth enough to build a home? Poppy was so scared of losing it, she had wrapped it in a piece of old cloth and tied it on a string to hang around her neck under her shirt. Poppy also still had the Chinese letter from her father, which Jimmy Ah Kew had translated for her. She hoped one day her family could be together again. These were the thoughts that played across her mind.

Poppy ran after Fisher. As she rounded a bend in the track, she saw a colourful wooden wagon covered with words: 'Holloways Pills and Ointments', 'Your Future Read' and 'Teeth Extracted'. From the wagon, a tarpaulin was stretched out, with ropes tied between two trees, to form a covered area. And under the canvas was an empty chair and a low table made of a thin plank set on two logs. A horse grazed nearby, craning its neck to bite the top of a weed.

A little distance away a fire burned. Two rabbits cooked on a spit over red coals. This was where the delicious smell was coming from.

As Poppy was wondering who the wagon belonged to, a tall man with long shoulder-length hair and a thick moustache that curled up at the ends came around the corner of the carriage. He was carrying a tin plate.

'Well, what do we have here?' he said. 'What's yer name, my boy?'

Poppy heard Fisher growling softly behind her. She turned, and he was looking fixedly at the man.

'Now, now,' said the man, 'that ain't friendly-like, 'specially as I was just fixin' to offer you some o' this here roast rabbit. Too much for me, anyways.'

He had a funny accent, Poppy thought. Not quite Irish, but definitely not English. Meanwhile, her mouth watered for that rabbit. Strange, here she was, rich with gold, but still hungry.

'What's the matter, kid? Cat got yer tongue?'

'Uh, no. Sorry. My name is Kal. And this...' Poppy turned around, '...is my dog, Fisher.'

'Fisher, eh? Mighty fine dog. Bet he's worth a bit.' The man walked toward Fisher, extending his hand slowly. Fisher backed away, baring his teeth and growling some more.

'Fisher, don't be rude,' Poppy hissed. 'Sorry, Mister, he's usually fine with strangers.'

'Don't bother me none,' the man said. 'Like as not he's pickin' up the scent o' this here patent medicine I been brewin'.' He reached into the wagon and showed her a bottle with a hand-drawn label. 'Cutpurse's Cure-all. Fixes everythin' from snakebite to bankruptcy,' the man said with a wide grin.

'Oh, so you're a doctor?' Poppy said, thinking of Dr Lin from Wahgunyah and all the bottles and pouches of herbs he had kept in his shop.

'Doctor? I'm not just a doctor, I'm a Professor!' The man drew himself up, stuck out his chest, threw out his arm and declaimed, 'Professor Cutpurse, famous from Nantucket to Nashville, well-known from Paris to Pensacola, fresh from a tour of Europe, now bringin' health and happiness to these here goldfields. At your service.' As he said the last words he bowed regally, sweeping his right arm up and then down across his chest, as if he had swept off a hat with a flourish.

Poppy looked at him with surprise. In those few words the man's whole demeanour had changed. Even his voice sounded different. Poppy glanced back at Fisher. The dog had sat down with his mouth open and tongue lolling, looking at the man. Then Fisher's eyebrows lifted and he shifted his eyes to look at Poppy.

'So tell me, young man. What talents do you possess?' Professor Cutpurse said, still using a professorial voice.

'None, sir.'

'Impossible. You must be able to do somethin'. You can juggle, surely?'

'Um, no, sir.'

'Dance, then? Hornpipe? Buck dance?'

'No, sir. Sorry, sir.'

Professor Cutpurse's eyes widened. 'Why, you astonish me. What about singin'? Surely you can sing. Even a bird can do that.'

Poppy had never thought of singing as a talent. It was just something she did. 'Yes, sir, I can sing, some.'

'Let's hear you then. And after that, some tasty rabbit.'

'My voice... it's as rusty as old nails, sir,' she said.

'Never mind that,' the Professor said. 'Go on now, lad. Don't be shy.'

So Poppy stood in front of Professor Cutpurse and sang The Bellbird Song, and afterwards the man applauded, then made her sit down by the fire. He relaxed back into his normal speaking voice.

'Kid, you got a great voice. It's high like a girl's, ain't broke yet, that's good. Exactly what I need for the show. . . if you want to travel with us fer a bit, I mean. I can guarantee food, most times, fer you and yer dog there, and you can sleep under the wagon.'

Poppy was busy by now, chewing a delicious roast rabbit leg, but she spoke between mouthfuls. 'Sorry, sir, but I have to find my brother. I've been looking for him for months. I think he's in Beechworth.'

'Well, if he's in Beechworth, you can bet he'll be comin' to our show. My boys are puttin' up the posters right now. The whole town will turn out fer it. No siree, you can bet your boots he'll be there, if he's within a hundred miles.'

Poppy considered this. The idea made sense. But what would she have to do?

Professor Cutpurse explained that the show provided entertainment to gather a crowd, then, in between acts, they sold things, like his patent medicine. 'I'll pay you well... and I have the perfect part for you to play. Do you want to hear it?'

Poppy nodded.

The Professor took a drink from a bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Now here's the bit you mightn't like too much. I want to dress you up like a girl, a princess, in fact, a princess from India.'

Poppy pretended to scowl. 'I can't dress up like a girl, Professor.' But inside she was smiling. If only Noni from Summerhill was here! She'd laugh so hard.

'And I want you to sing the same song, but don't use the words, just make up sounds. Pretend that you're singin' Indian. You got me?'

Poppy nodded. That didn't seem too hard. And the idea of being paid for something she loved to do made her smile.

As they finished the rabbits, even Fisher looked happy. Sitting back, full and satisfied, the Professor told Poppy more about their show. He had two helpers who went into town and put up advertising posters, whipping up excitement. They also helped sell the bottles of medicine. 'We do more than sing and dance and juggle,' the Professor said. 'Sometimes I tell fortunes or pull teeth. There's always someone with a bad tooth. Why, once I pulled sixteen teeth in the course of one hour. Used to wear them like a necklace. Completely painless.' He smiled. 'Leastwise, no one can hear them scream. I have one of the boys blow a big trumpet when I'm doin' the extraction.'

Poppy felt sick to her stomach.

'Anyways, nothin' quite so entertainin' as seein' someone else suffer, don't ya know. Folks will line up for that, every time.'

Poppy frowned. The Professor said he was more than a doctor, but he didn't sound like a doctor. Poppy knew what a real doctor was. She had seen Dr Lin, and how he cared for his patients. She had seen Tom and what he had done to heal her. Professor Cutpurse didn't sound like he cared at all.

'It's all part of the show,' the Professor finished up, grinning at her. 'Greatest lil' ol' show around these parts.'