Runaway Ralph - Beverly Cleary [8]
“Beat it,” said the gopher, squinting at Ralph. “I didn’t dig this tunnel for mice.”
The digging paws were coming closer. “Attaboy, Sam!” shouted the boys.
“Go, gopher, go!” shouted the girls.
Even the gopher looked uneasy. “Please,” pleaded Ralph, “save me from that beast.”
The gopher was more interested in saving himself. Already he was beginning to move farther down the run. “You can stay until that dog stops digging and no longer,” he said, and fled off into the network of tunnels.
Not far away a bell clanged. “Breakfast! Chow time!” yelled the boys, and the feet that went pounding off in the direction of the bell shook the ground overhead. The paws stopped churning, but overhead Ralph could hear the sound of panting. Sam poked his fearsome snout into the gopher hole for one last sniff before he too trotted off for breakfast.
“Whew!” gasped Ralph, leaning against his motorcycle. He had pictured camp as a place where boys would bring him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, not this dark and dusty tunnel inhabited by a grouchy gopher.
3
An Educational Toy
Ralph did not rest long.
“On your feet, mouse,” said the gopher, appearing from the dark recesses of the gopher run. “You can go now.”
“Do I have to?” pleaded Ralph, nervously eyeing the gopher’s long curving teeth. “I’ve come a long way, and I need a day’s sleep.”
“Go on, beat it.” The gopher stared at Ralph with his nearsighted eyes. “This is my run, and I don’t want it cluttered up with mice.”
“Please.” Ralph tried to sound pitiful. “I’m just a little mouse, and I’ve had a long, hard trip.”
“I know you mice,” answered the gopher. “You are little and you look helpless, but when you move in you take over.” Then he added in a more kindly tone, “Anyway, you had better get out while you can. That dog will eat his breakfast and go off on his round of inspection, and when he sees all the dirt he churned up, he’ll start digging again.”
“Maybe you’re right,” admitted Ralph, who was not eager to share a tunnel with a grouchy gopher. He pushed his motorcycle up toward the circle of light that was the entrance to the gopher run. There he paused until his eyes became accustomed to the sunlight.
A stray chicken wandered across the lawn under the walnut trees. A horse whinnied from the barn, and from the dining hall came the laughter and chatter of boys and girls and the clatter of silverware. The place seemed safe enough at the moment. Ralph permitted himself a leisurely but bumpy ride along a path that led to a small weathered building shaded by an arbor of grapevines. At the corner of the building he found a clump of bamboo, which offered the possibility of shelter. The fallen leaves and husks of the young bamboo shoots were broad and smooth, and the dried edges curled. He laid his motorcycle at the foot of the bamboo and pulled a husk over it. The edges curled around it so that it was hidden completely. He put his helmet under another husk, and too tired to scrounge for food, Ralph crawled under a third husk.
Ah-h. Ralph curled himself into a cozy ball. The leaves beneath him were springy. The husk above him was smooth and silky and curled protectingly around him. Ralph had not been so comfortable for a long, long time. A delicious fragrance of hotcakes drifted from the dining hall, reminding Ralph of the dining room of the Mountain View Inn. The campers began to sing:
“The horses stand around,
Their feet are on the ground.
Oh, who will wind the clock,
While I’m away, away.”
Ralph wondered if Matt had wound the clock in the lobby. Perhaps Matt was searching for a broken motorcycle in the shrubbery at the foot of the steps of the Mountain View Inn. Well, he wouldn’t find it! Now all Ralph wanted was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…. Ralph slept more soundly than he had ever slept before.
The next thing Ralph knew a weight was pressing him into the bamboo leaves. He squirmed, but the weight pressed harder. He heard a cat