Anton and Cecil, Book 2

by Lisa Martin

  Anton wondered if this was really true or if it was simply what the Great Cat had grown accustomed to, but said nothing.

  Montana described how one night he had climbed the tallest mountain and stood at the top from where he could see a great distance, and he knew that he was the most powerful creature in his domain. He did not like to be seen. His loyalty, he said, was to the sky, as only the sky was beyond his control.

  “And now,” Montana concluded, “it appears that I’m going to be indebted to two tiny cats and a silly mouse.” He chuckled, a sound so rich and full of vibration that Cecil and Anton, without warning, began to purr.

  As Hieronymus gnawed, he thought of the long history of his family and of his own adventures in the world, of his recent captivity and now this rescue of the largest cat in the world. Pride swelled his heart. He chewed through the last stubborn strands of the rope and held the two ends apart over his head. “The Great Cat is free!” he proclaimed.

  Montana jerked his back leg forward and swished his heavy tail, accidentally sending Hieronymus sprawling face down on the ground. In a great bound Montana crossed the clearing. He leaped joyfully from boulder to boulder while Anton and Cecil watched, purring.

  Hieronymus pulled himself to his feet, then dusted himself off with his paws. “Well. Can you beat that?”

  Montana sprang high up, disappearing and reappearing above them. The night was quiet and still. Suddenly the three friends heard a sharp, yipping sound, far off at first and then closer.

  Cecil shivered. “Coyotes,” he said grimly.

  “Is he just going to leave us here after we saved his life?” Hieronymus asked. Then they saw the Great Cat, high up, looking down at them from a steep cliff, his yellow eyes gleaming in the dark.

  “He did say he prefers to be alone,” Anton observed.

  As they watched, Montana disappeared again, but they could hear him crashing through the rough stones and spindly trees. He entered the clearing in a great leap and sat down before them, looking eminently pleased with himself. “I’ve reached a decision,” he said.

  “We’d like to hear it,” Hieronymus said coolly.

  “I’ve never shared my den with another animal in this world, but it’s not safe for you three out here tonight, and as I am indebted to you, I invite you to come with me now.”

  Anton breathed a long sigh of contentment.

  “We accept,” Cecil said.

  And so the two cats and the mouse set out behind their protector, who slowed his pace so that they could keep up. After a long, twisting, rocky climb they came to a narrow opening in the face of the mountain. “This is it,” Montana said, stepping aside so that they might enter.

  Anton and Cecil went in, but Hieronymus paused at the entrance, looking back the way they had come, and then up at the sky, where the moon was milky white and the stars twinkled brightly.

  “You can really see the heavens from up here,” Hieronymus observed. “The stars tell many a story.”

  Montana made a snuffling sound, which might have been a laugh. “They do,” he agreed. “That group just overhead, that’s the Great Lion. He climbed a mountain so high he stepped into the sky.”

  “Really?” said Hieronymus. “We call that the Sagacious Mouse. He is so wise he gives off light. The old name for him is Mus Sapiens.”

  “Hmmm,” said Montana. “I’ve not heard that story. In fact, I’ve never talked to a mouse before.”

  Hieronymus huffed. “I’m sure they mostly just run screaming when they see you.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “And I don’t blame them for that. However, you are a brave mouse and a clever one. I welcome you to my den.”

  Again Hieronymus felt a thrill of accomplishment. How many mice in the world could say they’d spent the night in the den of the Great Cat and lived to tell the tale? It was a story worth repeating.

  Montana’s secret lair was a wide, high, cool space, with a rounded ceiling and a smooth floor. Anton and Cecil had settled side by side on a slab that jutted out from one corner. Montana threw himself down toward the back and Hieronymus curled up near the entrance.

  “Now,” he said. “Shall I tell you how I wound up in that cage?”

  Cecil and Anton settled themselves in for the story, tucking in their paws and arranging their tails comfortably. To everyone’s surprise, Montana lifted his head and said, “A cage? Yes. I’d like to hear about that.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Another Sea

  It all began,” Hieronymus said, settling himself on his haunches and clearing his throat for a long recitation, “when I was contacted by two agents from the well-known mouse network. Of course I’d heard of this group and their good works, as what mouse has not? But it was my first opportunity to see at close range the valiant endeavors they undertake all over the world to further the interests of our great community, so hard beset by cruel treatment by both humans and beasts. Their message was from a long-lost cousin I hardly knew I had, though he’d heard of me in his faraway region because of the sea adventures I’d undertaken with my friends Anton and Cecil.”

  “You had sea adventures together?” Montana asked.

  “Oh yes,” Hieronymus replied.

  Cecil yawned and passed a paw over one ear. “Don’t get him started on that story,” he said.

  “Right,” said Anton. “Just stick to the tale about your cousin.”

  “Eponymus,” Hieronymus said. “Sadly I’ve yet to meet him. But his message was that he was enjoying life in a distant clime and that he hoped I might join him there.

  “I had been thinking of relocating for some time, as I had no family in the vicinity of our port, so I decided to undertake the journey. The messengers met me at the ship and showed me a safe mouse-entry hole. The sea journey was uneventful and when I arrived at a large port city, the network had sent two scouts to meet me and escort me, first to a very fine dinner and then to the landship, where they helped me to select the best carriage. For the first few days all went well. Other mice, some who had made the trip more than once, got on and off, advising me of what to expect along the way. They suggested the best places to stop over and have a meal, and they were very clear about the timetables of the landships, so I was never uncertain about my progress.

  “At last we came to the town where my cousin lived. I asked around until I was directed to his house, where I was met by a most pleasant mother mouse with two children. She told me that Eponymus had learned there was a great ocean at the end of the train tracks, as well as a fine city where every mouse lived like a king. His longing for sea air had been too much for him, so he had decided to make the move. ‘It’s not much farther on,’ this kindly mother assured me. ‘Only two days on the landship, and you can’t miss your stop because the track ends at the shore.’

  “After resting for a day or two in this town, and rescuing the matron’s babies from a very obnoxious bird who had it in mind to make a lunch of them, I decided to follow my cousin to the fine city.

  “On the next train things went very wrong. There was a fire in my carriage and I escaped by running along the roof of the cars. But alas, I descended abruptly through an unexpected opening and dropped right into a carriage designated for human passengers. I was alarmed at first, but no one saw me and it was very nice in there, with lots of room and good smells. I ran along the wall under the seats and jumped into an open basket that was full of bread and cakes. I ate until I was full, not at all worried about missing my stop, as I knew everyone would get off. This is the way to travel, I thought. I could see why humans are so keen on it.

  “Then I fell asleep and when I woke up a lady and a little girl were staring down at me. The lady was screaming. The little girl smiled and slammed the lid shut before I could get out, and I was trapped. I was in that basket for a long time and when at last the cover was lifted, a great black paw reached in and grabbed me before I could escape. It was a man’s gloved hand and it dropped me into a cage.

  “Naturall
y I began to plan my escape. Anton can tell you that I am not one to give up easily and I’m well versed on survival techniques, but this cage was a truly diabolical fabrication made entirely of metal with a latch I couldn’t open no matter how I tried. I was given food and water, and there was a device that I used for exercise—a wheel that allowed me to run without ever getting anywhere, which as you can imagine, is a very disheartening way to pass one’s time.

  “After weeks of imprisonment, I thought of my friends Anton and Cecil and I decided that my last hope was to send a message to them through the network, using the only two landmarks I could see from the front and back windows of the house—the whale and the coyote. It was the parrot Dayo, a very intelligent though often difficult roommate, who told me the human name for the fearsome creature on the sign.

  “And so I sent my message and waited. I had a good deal of time to think about my life, my family, and my future, and I was in a great despond to think I might end my days trapped in a cage at the whim of humans. I could not fathom why they would take pleasure in keeping a creature they otherwise recoiled from in horror locked up in a wire box in which they provided food, water, and exercise, enough to keep me alive, but they would not give me liberty. I had the feeling that something about my helplessness made them fond of me, but how could that be? In this awful state, near despair, I looked up at last to see my deliverance in the form of my two friends’ faces upside down outside the window. I can’t describe my joy at that moment, or the thrill of escape. And so I came to this place to spend a magical night in the company of cats, great and small. What a life I’ve had.”

  Here the mouse ended his story, gazing at his audience with warm confidence. Cecil had drifted off to sleep early on, but Anton and Montana had stayed awake, curious to hear Hieronymus’s tale. In fact the Great Cat was wide-eyed and rapt with attention. Anton thought it was odd that such a powerful and solitary animal as Montana would be so fascinated by the story of a mouse’s travels. But then it dawned on him: solitary—that was the word. Alone up here on his mountain Montana was free and never afraid. But there was no one to tell him a story. And that was sad.

  Imagine, dear reader, if there was no one to tell you a good story?

  Anton also observed that the mouse network was a lot more efficient and helpful if the traveler in their care was another mouse. They had met and assisted Hieronymus at every point along the way, recommending the best places to find meals and making sure he had comfortable accommodations. Anton and Cecil had had to eat bugs and berries, take advice from dogs, and risk their lives careening around on hoofstock. Yet it appeared that everywhere Hieronymus went, he was welcomed by knowledgeable and helpful mice!

  Anton smiled at Hieronymus and his attentive audience, the Great Cat. Cecil was snoring softly, and the only other sound was the mouse patiently answering a question Montana asked about his escape. Anton felt safe and strangely happy. For the first time since their journey began, he wasn’t homesick. In the morning he and his brother would set out with their little friend for the ocean at the end of the track. He was sure Cecil would want to go on. If there was an ocean, there would be fish. Fresh fish. That would be all Cecil would need to know.

  A warm wind blew through the night, and the cats awoke to see tumbleweeds chasing one another down the alleyways between sheer faces of rock. Cecil felt dry down to his bones. He longed for the smell of sea air, the feel of the waves under a ship, the cool blue expanse. These mountains were interesting in their way, but too hard and dusty for a sea cat. So he was glad to hear that they would be journeying onward to another ocean, even if it meant more travel on trains.

  Montana accompanied them as far as the edge of town and helped them find one last big meal to fill their bellies before they set off. The four creatures sat in the morning breeze for a while, enjoying the sunshine and cleaning their ears and whiskers with their paws, and then it was time to go.

  “I wish you well,” said the Great Cat, gazing at each of them in turn. “In some ways I’d like to see what you are seeking—a great ocean. Your story has shown me that there’s much I don’t know about the world. But I fear that a cat of my size might attract a lot of attention.”

  “It would be hard to hide you on the train, that’s for sure,” Cecil agreed.

  “We can tell you about it when we come back through this way,” said Anton.

  Hieronymus gave his friend a look both pensive and doubtful, but said nothing.

  Montana looked down at Hieronymus. “I do most humbly thank you, small mouse, for rescuing me from that trap. I might have died there, were it not for you.” He bowed his head slightly.

  Hieronymus flushed. “Happy to be of service,” he said quietly.

  The Great Cat nodded thoughtfully. “Cats are wild beasts no matter how much time they spend around humans. And we must watch out for one another, care for each other when we can. Anton and Cecil came to rescue you, Hieronymus, as you have rescued them and now me. That makes you one of us, I think. In addition to your many mouse relatives, we are your family as well. Be safe.”

  Montana lifted his great head and breathed in, catching a scent on the breeze, and then he bounded away toward the mountains. The cat brothers and their small mouse friend watched him go in silence. From beyond the hills far away to the east came a familiar pair of sounds—a high whistle and a low, rhythmic chugging—and they turned and hustled toward town to catch their train.

  The train that pulled into the station trailed various types of carriages behind the engine, and the friends knew to choose an open box-like one and to avoid the many-windowed ones with people waving. Cecil allowed Hieronymus to climb on his back and hang on to his shaggy fur as the cats made the leap up into the carriage. The way the engine waited on the track, hulking and chuffing, reminded Cecil of Dirk and his bison friends, and he told Anton and Hieronymus that story while they rode.

  For two days and nights they bumped and swayed along the track, the sights becoming stranger as they went. Steep climbs slowed the engine to a crawl and they wondered if it might stop altogether. Impossibly high bridges over deep gorges sent Anton scrambling to hide under the hay in their carriage until they were safely across. Cecil watched from the doorway one bright morning as the train approached a rocky mountainside without slowing, and one by one the carriages were swallowed up into a round black mouth in the rock until their own box was plunged into darkness and loud, echoing clacks were all they could hear. They huddled together, wondering what was to come, when the sunlight reappeared and the train continued on as it had, relentlessly rumbling down the track.

  Cecil and Hieronymus became adept at dashing to find food during station stops—Cecil following his nose to a discarded meat pie or unattended leg of chicken, Hieronymus snatching a few berries or scattered grains, and once an entire wedge of cheese—while Anton stayed behind to sound the alarm if the train appeared to be leaving before the other two returned.

  “Brothers! To me!” Anton howled from the station porch as the yard workers began closing the doors to the carriages. The three would dash to their box just in time and hide behind crates until the train began to move.

  On the third day the train arrived at a big city with a bustling station to match, and when Cecil leaned out to check the ground ahead of the engine, he saw what they’d been waiting for.

  “This is it, mates!” he said with a grin. “There’s no more track past this station. We’ve arrived at the end.”

  “Can you see the sea?” asked Hieronymus anxiously.

  Cecil looked again, stretching his neck, then working his nose. “I can smell it, for sure. Let’s go!”

  They walked to the roadbed where Cecil’s nose led them and saw an inlet filled with sailing vessels and surrounded by busy dockside activity—but no wide ocean. Hieronymus drooped with disappointment.

  “But where could it be?” he said, twisting his tail. “My cousin was sure there was a second sea here.”

  “You know,” said Cec
il, rubbing his ear with a paw. “The mouse network isn’t so great on details. Maybe this is what they meant by sea.”

  “Oh, surely not,” scoffed Hieronymus. He gazed around the inlet, frowning. “On the other hand, Cecil, you might be right.”

  Many people from the train, their bags and boxes in tow, had also made the trek down the road to this spot. They gathered along one pier as if waiting for something. At the far end of the inlet, a narrow waterway disappeared around a bend, and Cecil spied a type of vessel he’d never seen before emerging from there: a large, wide boat that seemed to move not with sails, but with huge wheels that churned and slapped at the water on each side. The boat approached the pier amid a great splashing mist.

  “Will you look at that?” said Cecil. “It’s like a cart, rolling on top of the water.”

  The churning slowed and stopped, and the wheel boat pulled even with the pier. Many humans disembarked down a steep ramp, after which the other waiting humans boarded and the ship pushed away. The cats watched as the wheels propelled it across the inlet and around the bend again.

  “I have a feeling we should have gotten on that ship,” said Hieronymus. “Perhaps it keeps going to the ocean.”

  “Let’s wait and see if it comes back, like the fishing boats do,” said Cecil. “In the meantime, this is the perfect occasion for a snack.” He bounded happily down to the docks and soon returned with a crusty loaf of bread in his jaws for them to share. They tucked themselves between two buildings and dozed in the sunshine for a while, until Anton’s ears pricked up.

  “There’s the sound again,” he said. “The splashing of the wheel boat.”

  And sure enough, there it was, paddling across the inlet like a duck. This time the friends snuck aboard and hid under a tarp covering a dinghy on deck. The wheel boat set off and navigated a narrow band of water for half a day, arriving at a similar pier in an even bigger city than they had left. The most thrilling part was the view that opened before them as the boat docked and they emerged from the tarp.