The Long Flight Of Rusty's

Angels

By Peter England

You all remember Ruston-Hornby. Or Rusty as he wa s familinrh.

T n e~ies en The U Uggest Avers ™ CombTnel i erniones. ine tales of his exploits are many, and famous.

WHAT brought him back to mind was his wedding in vitation that turned up a little while back. One could hardly imagine Rusty docilely accepting the yoke of matrimony.

Would his wife allow him still to have breakfast at 2.30 p.m. and, like the fellow in The Snark, dine on the following day? Still, I reflected, marriage, like death, is one of those things that catch up with most of us in the end.

What I really want to talk about is the story of Rusty and the Angels.

You must know, then, that the people of the Big River are not always good. Indeed, on the occasion of which I write some of them were so naughty as to send word to the Kiap that they had recently had an inter view with God, Who had made them all angels. Furthermore, God had mentioned to them that in view of their new angelic status there would no longer be any necessity for them to clean their village, repair the house kiap, or pay periodical visits to the sub-district station to cut the grass on the airstrip.

The message was first received by the corporal in charge of the local police detachment, who con veyed it to Rusty not without trepidation.

Rusty listened to the first half of his story and then blasted him out of the office with a number of astringent remarks about the corporal’s credulity and incompetence.

Three days later —it was be tween mails and he had finished reading the classified ads in the last Sydney Morning Herald —Rusty went back to the office early and he had a sudden thought. He called for the corporal.

“What did you say about angels?”

The corporal repeated it.

“Send a constable up the river and bring ’em in,” said Rusty.

Nobody was foolish enough to argue the point with Rusty’s policemen, and in due course two canoe loads of angels arrived at the station and were paraded before the Kiap.

With an air of benevolence

Rusty invited them to tell him their story. They did so, with the utmost confidence.

“So,” said Rusty, “then you really are angels. At first 1 was a little doubtful, but now you have convinced me.”

They smiled at one another.

“And I suppose,” said Rusty, toying with a pile of Circular Instructions, “I suppose you can fly too, as all other angels do?”

Oh, yes, certainly they could fly, whenever they wanted to.

That is, of course . . . when the occasion warranted it.

Well,” said Rusty, standing up, “I think the occasion warrants it now. We will have a little demonstration.

“Corporal, it is quite clear to me that these people really are angels. They are now going to show us how they can fly. Take them down to the far end of the airstrip, turn them around, and then they can take off as the halus does every Saturday on mail-days. And —yes —in case they want any help you had better take half a dozen con stables with you.”

Well, the police took the fellows down to one end of the airstrip, and with great enthusiasm chased them to the other end. At first the angels waved their arms and gave a few leaps into the air (all glee fully imitated by the police).

But it was a long airstrip and the angels were not in particu larly good athletic trim. They came back to Rusty short of breath and dejected.

“Ah, I see how it is,” said Rusty. “You took off from the wrong end of the airstrip. Now you must try it the other way round, into the wind, and I am sure you will fly quite easily.”

After the second trial an exhausted flock of angels followed Rusty back to the office.

The Kiap still looked benevolent.

“Now I see that you are not angels at all, but only naughty men. Because you have deceived the Kiap you shall go into my calaboose, which is surrounded with the wire-that-has-sharp nails, and you shall stop there for three moons.” And that is where the former angels went.