Runaway Ralph - Beverly Cleary [30]
Ralph crept closer. “Thank you, Sam,” he said, genuinely grateful to the big dog.
“It was all in line of duty,” said Sam. “Still, one thing bothers me. Boys don’t come into the girls’ area, but couldn’t a boy throw a watch over here? A boy could stand on the other side of the fence and toss a watch onto a sleeping bag. I’m not sure Garf’s name will be cleared when Karen finds the watch.”
“I never thought of that,” admitted Ralph, “but give me a little time and I can take care of it.” He scurried over to the watch and began to gnaw a hole in the fabric of the sleeping bag. Garf might be able to throw a watch, but he couldn’t gnaw a hole. Sam settled himself with his nose on his paws to guard Ralph.
Ralph used his sharp teeth so efficiently that he soon had a hole in the dry and tasteless lining. He waded into the Dacron stuffing, dragging the watch behind him.
“You all right in there?” asked Sam.
“Of course, I’m all right,” answered Ralph, shoving the Dacron aside to make room for the watch. The Dacron was softer than the most finely shredded Kleenex. It was softer than nylon stockings or pillow feathers or any other soft thing Ralph had experienced at the inn.
“Then I’d better be on my way,” said Sam. “I still have the barn to inspect.”
Ralph popped his head out of the hole in the sleeping bag. “Thanks a lot, Sam,” he said. “You saved my life. I really mean it.” The watchband still protruded from the hole, so Ralph crawled back inside and tugged some more until he was sure it was safely out of sight. There. When Karen climbed into her sleeping bag that night she was sure to feel a lump, investigate, and discover her missing watch in a place where Garf could not have hidden it.
The Dacron was deliciously soft, and Ralph was tired after a sleepless night. I’ve got to get out of here before rest time, he told himself, but part of him answered, Go on, take a short nap, only a minute or two. Rest time is a long way off, and you need some sleep. The Dacron was soft and cozy, the sounds of the camp were muffled, and Ralph was tired….
The next thing Ralph knew, the sleeping bag was moving. He heard the swishing sound of a long zipper being closed and felt himself being lifted. Then a screen door slammed, the sleeping bag was set down, and a pair of hands smoothed it.
Drat! thought Ralph, now I’ve done it! He heard the muffled sound of boots being thrown on the floor. The cot beneath him heaved, and a sudden weight seemed to flatten Ralph, even though he was cushioned by Dacron.
Ralph could not help himself. He squeaked. The weight pressing on him was removed instantly. The springs bounced, two feet hit the floor, and Ralph heard Karen’s muffled voice say, “That’s funny. I’m sure I heard a squeak.”
“It’s your springs, silly,” said another girl.
“No,” said Karen. “It was more like a mouse, and it was right under me.”
“Quiet, girls. It’s rest time,” said the counselor.
I better get out of here, thought Ralph, crawling out of his Dacron nest and in between the two layers of flannel lining. As he started toward what he hoped was the open end, he heard the swishing sound of the zipper. The top of the sleeping bag was thrown back, and Ralph was exposed for all to see.
“E-e-ek!” squealed Karen. “It is a mouse! And he isn’t even squashed!”
Ralph leaped to the floor and was aware of a double row of girls staring at him from their bunks. He darted toward an overturned riding boot, realized that he would be trapped inside, and darted the other way without knowing where he was going.
Now all the girls were squealing. “Catch him!” “Don’t let him get away!” “Isn’t he darling?”
“He isn’t darling in my sleeping bag!” said Karen.
Sock-clad feet hit the floor. “Get a washbasin!” someone yelled. “Catch him under a washbasin.”
“Girls!” cried the counselor.
Ralph darted this way and that. No matter which way he ran he met feet. He was frantic. He knew he had to find a way to escape before someone clapped something over