Read Online The Mopwater Files by John R. Erickson - Free Book Online Page B

scorched by the terrible heat, but the ignoramuses didn’t know that.
    I pointed to the leaves. “Uh-oh. You see? That tree just died from the poison, Snort, and with its last dying gasp, it has sent you a secret message.”
    The brothers scowled. “What secret message?”
    â€œDon’t you get it? Come on, Snort, wake up! I came to warn you and now the tree is warning you. It’s telling you what to do. It’s right here in front of your nose.” I pointed my paw at one of the leaves on the ground. “What is that?”
    â€œLeave.” At first it didn’t soak in, but then Snort’s eyes popped open. “Leave?”
    â€œRight, exactly. Noah, Lot, disaster, leave!”
    They mumbled and muttered. Then, “Uh. Coy­ote know a lot, smell disaster and leave like tree.”
    They began backing away. Then they turned and vanished into the brush. Just before they left, I heard Snort mutter, “That pretty strong music for sure.”
    Silence. They were gone. I almost fainted with relief. Then I heard Madame’s voice behind me.
    â€œMy goodness, unless my eyes deceive me, it’s Hank the Rabbit.”
    â€œWe’ve been through this before, Madame, and I don’t have the energy to argue. Hank the Rabbit’s okay with me. I feel like a rabbit right now.”
    â€œAnd you’ve sent the ruffians packing. I’m so proud! My goodness, they were going to eat me.”
    â€œI noticed. I also noticed that you were going to let them. What’s the deal?”
    â€œWell, as you can see, they bound me with grapevine, pinning my wings to my sides. And how can I do a proper job of casting spells without my wings? It can’t be done. The wing is the sting. Disable the wing, dispose of the sting. Speaking of which . . . do you suppose you could unbind me. As it is, I’m bound to be tied.”
    â€œWell, I’ll see what I can do.”
    I began gnawing on the grapevine. Whilst I was doing this, Madame kept me entertained with her chatter, such as:
    â€œYou’re tickling me. Stop that. No, don’t stop that. Continue. Oh, eee, ah! I suppose you know you are gnawing on my ribcage, and I suppose you gnaw, knowing full well what you’re doing. Now I know you gnaw, trah-lah, trah-lah, trah-lah.”
    That was typical Madame Moonshine talk. She didn’t always make sense but she seemed to enjoy herself. At last I cut her free. She smiled and flapped her wings.
    â€œThere! Thank you, thank you, and thank you. But how can I ever thank you enough? Thanks is such a paltry gift, but if I offered you a chicken instead, it would be a poultry gift. Hence, by following the logic of the moon and stars, we receive the knowledge that mere thanks is more thankful than a chicken.”
    â€œI guess so. Whatever.”
    She swiveled her head around and studied me with her big owlish eyes. “Do you suppose we can use that information, Hank the Rabbit?”
    â€œUh, Cowdog, actually. Hank the Cowdog.”
    â€œOh rubbish. Cowdogness seems so boring and ordinary, but rabbitness has a way of keeping things hopping. And did I mention that you’re spending the summer with me in my cave?”
    â€œHuh? Spending the . . . no, we haven’t discussed that . . . uh . . . yet . . . Madame.”
    â€œOh piffle. I meant to tell you, but I was about to be eaten by cannibals and it slipped my mind. And besides, you just got here. Come, let’s retire to my cave and we can discuss our summer plans.”
    She went hopping toward the bluffs on the other side of the creek. I followed . . . although I was beginning to feel a little uneasy about the summer business. When we came to the tree that was decorated by her bodyguard, Timothy the Turbo Windbag, she stopped.
    â€œTimothy, you have been a naughty snake. How shameful and scandalous, allowing two ignoramus coyotes to tie you to a tree! I may be forced to review your employment