Runaway Ralph - Beverly Cleary [7]
“A boy gave it to me.” Ralph was beginning to feel slightly braver, but only slightly. That big dog could gobble a mouse in one gulp. But not if I hang onto my motorcycle, thought Ralph, feeling that his courage had not deserted him entirely. A dog would not eat a motorcycle.
“No kidding,” said Sam. “A mouse-sized motorcycle! Where did you come from?”
“The Mountain View Inn.”
“That run-down place,” said Sam. “I’m not surprised the mice are deserting it. Where are you going?”
“Well…here, I guess,” said Ralph. “I followed the sound of the bugle. I wanted to be near medium-sized children and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“Sorry,” said Sam. “You can’t come in here. I’m the watchdog of Happy Acres Camp, and it’s my job to protect the camp.”
“Aw, come on,” said Ralph, who was beginning to see that Sam was not really a ferocious dog. “I’m just a mouse.”
Sam looked uncomfortable. Obviously he was a dog that liked to please everyone. “I would let you in if I could, but my orders are to keep out anyone who doesn’t belong here.”
Ralph hunched down on his motorcycle. “Please. I’m just a teeny little brown mouse. Nobody would even notice me.”
Sam’s honest brown face looked worried. “No,” he said at last. “I can’t let you in. I have my orders from Aunt Jill and Uncle Steve in the camp office. They are in charge here.”
“I’ve had a long, hard trip,” said Ralph. “I’m tired and I’m hungry.”
Sam looked so worried that Ralph pressed his advantage. “You know boys like mice. They would be glad to have me.”
Sam looked back toward a white building under the walnut trees. Then he looked down at Ralph. “I tell you I can’t do it,” he said. “If I let you come in I’d be breaking my orders. I’m already in trouble because a car came along in the middle of the night and dumped a box of kittens. It got away before I could rouse anybody.”
“Kittens!” squeaked Ralph in horror.
“I have the worst time with kittens.” Sam’s voice was gloomy. “People are always dumping kittens here, because they know girls will beg their parents to let them take them home.”
“Very many kittens?” asked Ralph, who was feeling nervous once more.
“Too many,” said Sam. “We already had three kittens that belonged here, and the other night six more were dumped. And once they are here, I’m not allowed to chase them. I tell you, it isn’t fair. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s kittens. Silly little things with no sense of responsibility.”
Sam’s troubles made Ralph feel cocky once more. “If you’re a watchdog, watch me!” he said, and taking a deep breath he shot between Sam’s legs and out the other side before the surprised dog could turn around. Ralph swerved around a green walnut lying on the ground and into a patch of weeds beside a nearby building.
“Come back here,” barked Sam. “You aren’t supposed to do that.” He began to snuffle around in the weeds.
Ralph had not expected to be snuffled for. He had thought that once he was inside the camp, Sam would give up.
Sam growled and moved his nose around in the weeds like a doggy vacuum cleaner. Unable to ride, Ralph pushed his motorcycle farther back into the weeds. The wet black nose parted the stalks, but Ralph was saved by a gopher hole. He dragged his motorcycle into its shelter.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” growled Sam, and began to dig with his powerful front paws. Dirt began to fly. Pulling his motorcycle after him, Ralph waded farther back through the loose dirt into the gopher hole. Faster went the paws.
“Hey, everybody! Sam’s after a gopher!” a boy yelled, and Ralph could feel feet pounding on the ground overhead.
“Go get him, Sam!” urged another boy.
“Sickum, Sam,” everyone seemed to be saying at once.
“You’re being mean to the gopher,” protested a girl.
Several girls’ voices began to yell, “Go, gopher, go!”
Faster and faster flew the paws with their strong toenails. Sam was panting now. Ralph pushed farther and farther back into the gopher run until a disagreeable voice ahead of him said, “And where do you think you’re going?”
“Eek!” squeaked Ralph, face-to-face