Panda-Monium by Bindi Irwin Page B

him?’ Bindi didn’t see why just one person should have all the say.
    â€˜Not everyone,’ Chandra replied. ‘There was a woman at the meeting called Maya. She believed me and was very keen to help.’
    â€˜Maya is my sister,’ Finju said.
    â€˜Ah!’ Chandra said. ‘Well, Maya was very helpful. But the others seemed too frightened to disagree with Mr Ming-Ma.’
    â€˜Why, I wonder?’ Bindi shook her head.
    Finju sighed. ‘Everyone is very poor – you may have noticed?’ He looked around at the visitors, who nodded. ‘And many people work for him – including my family.’ Finju slapped his forehead. ‘Which reminds me!’
    He peered inside and called out something in Sherpa. Bindi turned around to see who was there.
    A boy she hadn’t seen before appeared in the doorway. He was clutching a faded blue ball.
    â€˜Come and meet the visitors.’ Finju gestured to the boy. ‘This is my son, Wangchuk.’
    â€˜Pleased to meet you,’ the boy said in crisp English.
    â€˜Wangchuk is one of many in the village who do jobs for Mr Ming-Ma,’ Finju said gravely.
    Bindi liked the look of Wangchuk, with his straight black fringe, laughing eyes and wide smile. She guessed he was about ten years old. ‘What do you do for Mr Ming-Ma?’ she asked.
    â€˜I feed his best bull,’ Wangchuk said. ‘He’s locked up across the road. I give him his dinner each day.’ He laughed. ‘You should see how much he likes to eat!’
    Finju waved his son away. ‘Well you better get along and feed him now. Before he gets too grumpy.’
    Wangchuk eyed Bindi. He was still smiling. ‘He can get very cranky, Mr Ming-Ma’s bull. Very cranky. Want to come and help me feed him?’
    â€˜Sure,’ Bindi said, jumping to her feet. Sitting around here wasn’t going to solve anything, and she loved feeding animals. It was one of her favourite jobs at Australia Zoo.
    Vicki crossed her arms. ‘Well be careful, Bindi. Your mother expressly instructed me to keep you away from wild bulls.’ She winked.
    â€˜I can’t promise anything.’ Bindi narrowed her eyes. ‘But I hope we run into Mr Ming-Ma. I’d like to have a few words with him.’
    â€˜I wish you could, Bindi,’ Chandra said seriously. ‘But unfortunately he doesn’t speak English.’
    â€˜Wangchuk could translate . . .’ Bindi looked across at her new friend.
    Wangchuk smiled but said nothing. Then he turned and disappeared down the stairs, bouncing his ball as he went.

The bull, whose name was Tom, was magnificent, with a silky smooth coat and rippling muscles. But what a temper! He stamped the ground and snorted impatiently as Wangchuk prepared his dinner.
    â€˜Why don’t you jump in and feed him by hand?’ Wangchuk suggested to Bindi in an innocent voice.
    Bindi laughed and wagged her finger at her new friend. ‘I’m not falling for that one! You’re as bad as my brother! Robert’s always playing jokes.’
    Wangchuk threw the fodder over the stone fence. ‘So why do you care about red pandas?’ he asked.
    Tom gave another loud snort and began to eat.
    â€˜I care about all animals,’ Bindi said, ‘but I particularly love red pandas, because we have two absolutely gorgeous ones at our zoo in Australia!’
    She stopped and looked hard at Wangchuk. He was a local. He’d know the area well. ‘So have you seen any red pandas in the forest near here?’
    Wangchuk shrugged. ‘I can’t say.’
    â€˜Why not?’ Bindi asked.
    Wangchuk shook his head. He would speak no more.
    The kids watched in silence as Tom hoovered up his dinner. But Bindi’s mind was ticking like a stopwatch. Why couldn’t Wangchuk say anything? Had Mr Ming-Ma told him not to?

    Bindi was quietly relieved that they hadn’t run into Mr Ming-Ma while they