by Stan
His fellow scouts agreed.
Meanwhile, inside the mountain, Ralph and McGreed were still climbing. “Are you sure this is going to work?” snarled McGreed. “Because if it isn’t . . .”
“Please, chief, be reasonable,” said Ralph. “There’s nothing that’s sure in life except ticks and fleas.”
“Because if it doesn’t,” continued McGreed, “I’m going to turn you back into Big Red Rooster faster than you can say ‘Cock-a-doodle-do!’ And that’s just for starters!”
That’s when they heard it: Bigpaw’s singing echoing down through the passageway. McGreed gritted his teeth and put his fingers in his ears.
“No, chief! No!” pleaded Ralph. “No gritting! No fingers in the ears! Just wild applause and shouts of ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ Try to remember, we love Bigpaw’s singing. That’s why we’ve come. That’s why I’ve brought Dr. McGreed, the great singing expert, to hear his wonderful voice.”
“Just remember, you pea-brained idiot,” snarled McGreed. “If this scheme of yours doesn’t work . . .”
But there was no time for talking. They had reached the secret cave that opened onto Bigpaw’s mountain. It was time for action.
Chapter 11
Why You Come See Bigpaw?
“Bravo! Bravo!” shouted Ralph as he and McGreed came out of the cave into the clear mountain air.
And there he was, the great creature himself, strumming his tree-trunk banjo and singing his heart out.
“Applaud! Shout ‘Bravo!’” whispered Ralph to McGreed. McGreed applauded and shouted, “Bravo!”
Bigpaw stopped singing the instant he saw Ralph and the funny little fellow in the opera cape and slouch hat. “You Ralph Ripoff,” said Bigpaw, glowering down at his visitors. “You bad guy. You try hurt my little Bear Scout friends!” He moved toward the visitors, holding the banjo in the club position.
“Hurt the Bear Scouts?” protested Ralph. “You do me an injustice, sir! I love the Bear Scouts. They are my dearest little friends! They are as dear to me as my own blood nieces and nephews. Why, I love the Bear Scouts so much I carry their pictures with me always!” Ralph turned to McGreed. “Quick, chief, show ’em the cutouts!” McGreed set the Bear Scout cutouts up on the ledge.
Bigpaw stopped glowering and lowered his banjo. “Why you here? Why you come see Bigpaw?”
“Why we here?” said Ralph. “Why we come see Bigpaw? Surely you jest. We’ve come to hear Bigpaw sing, of course.”
Bigpaw thought about that for a moment. “Bigpaw love to sing,” he said.
“Certainly you love to sing. Why wouldn’t you love to sing with such a thrilling, wonderful voice as yours?”
“Bigpaw love to sing,” repeated the big fellow.
“And why else would I have brought the great Dr. McGreed with me?” said Ralph.
“Bigpaw not sick,” said the giant.
“Not that sort of doctor, my good fellow,” said Ralph. “Dr. McGreed is a doctor of singing. He is, in fact, the world’s greatest expert on the art of vibrato. He is a student of the uvula—that little thing that dangles at the back of your throat. And, amazing as it may seem, the good doctor wishes to take you under his wing.”
“Singing doctor got no wings,” said Bigpaw, raising his banjo back to the club position.
“You misunderstand!” said Ralph. “‘Under his wing’ is just an expression—a manner of speaking, as it were.” Bigpaw resumed full glower. “What it really means is that the good doctor wishes you to be his protégé.”
“Bigpaw think you try to fool him with big words,” said the singing giant.
“For pete’s sake, take over, chief!” whispered Ralph to McGreed. “I’m running out of steam. And it’s now or never. I don’t think he’s buying our act.”
McGreed took his courage in his hands, stepped forward, and said, “I am zee great opera expert, and you are wasting zee time. Do you wish to sing in zee opera or not?”
“Opra?” said Bigpaw. “What opra?”
“What’s opera? What’s opera?” cried McGreed, swirling his cape and jabbing the air with his ivory-headed walking stick. “Opera is zee greatest singing! To sing zee operas of Beartoveen, Bearzart, and Bearcini is to reach zee sublime.” Bigpaw seemed interested.
“And look here, big fellow,” said Ralph, opening the portfolio. “Here are pictures of how you’ll look in the different operas. Here you are in William Tell—you know, the bear who had to shoot the apple off his cub’s head. And here you are singing Falstaff, the big fat guy who gets all the laughs.”
“Bigpaw like pictures!” said Bigpaw. “Bigpaw look nice singing opra. How I get to sing opra?”
“Nothing could be simpler, my dear fellow,” said Ralph. “As soon as the good doctor examines your uvula, we’ll start booking the concert tour.”
“What’s that?” asked Bigpaw.
“You know, that little thing in your throat,” said Ralph. “It will allow Dr. McGreed to decide which operas will be best for you. Now, if you just help the doctor look in your throat.”
Bigpaw was all for it. “Bigpaw go on concert tour! Goody!” He reached down and, using his Dumpster-size paw as an elevator, lifted the good doctor and his giant tongue depressor up ten stories.
Chapter 12
Familiar Voices!
“What in the world do you suppose is going on?” said Sister.
The scouts were watching from behind some rocks. They had finished their work and climbed the rest of the way to visit Bigpaw. But as they got near Bigpaw’s ledge, they heard voices. Familiar voices. The voices of Ralph Ripoff and the archweasel McGreed.
“I haven’t a clue as to what’s going on,” said Brother. “But whatever it is, it’s not good.”
“Open your mouth and say, ‘Ah,’” ordered McGreed. Bigpaw did as ordered. Of course, McGreed’s real purpose was to get in position to hypnotize the giant. Once he gained power over the strongest force in Bear Country, control of all Bear Country would be within easy reach.
McGreed didn’t bother with a watch. He just climbed over Bigpaw’s swollen, mosquito-bitten nose and zapped him with the evil eye. “Listen to the voice of your master, Bigpaw,” said McGreed.
“Bigpaw listen,” said Bigpaw, in a sleepy voice.
“Your eyelids are getting heavy,” said McGreed, staring into Bigpaw’s eyes.
“Eyelids getting heavy,” said Bigpaw.
“You feel a deep, deep sleep coming on. . . .”
That’s when the Bear Scouts caught on to what was happening. “Good grief!” cried Brother. “He’s hypnotizing Bigpaw!”
“Of course!” said Lizzy. “That’s what Ralph must have been reading about in Swindler’s Magazine!”
“Hmm,” said Brother. “If Ralph and hypnotism were a dangerous combination, Ralph, McGreed, and hypnotism are a hundred times as dangerous.”
“That’s right,” said Fred. “If McGreed gets Bigpaw under his control, he could control all of Bear Country in a matter of days!”
“We’ve got to do something!” cried Lizzy.
“But what?” cried Sister.
McGreed had put Bigpaw into a deep sleep. “When you wake up,” said McGreed, “you will be my servant, and I will be your master. You will obey my every command, whatever it may be.”
“Yes, master,” said Bigpaw.
“When I snap my fingers,” said McGreed, “you will wake up and put me down.”
McGreed snapped his fingers. Bigpaw woke up and put McGreed down.
“Bigpaw,” said McGreed. “Who am I?”
“You my master,” said Bigpaw.
“And who are you?” said McGreed.
“I your servant,” said Bigpaw.
“Do the thing with the Bear Scouts, chief,” urged Ralph. He set up the cardboard Bear Scout cutouts on the ledge.
“Your nose is swollen,” said McGreed. “Why is that?”
“Mosquitoes bite Bigpaw’s nose,” said the big fellow. “Bigpaw hate mosquitoes,” he said, loo
king around for some. “Where mosquitoes? Bigpaw bash ’em!”
“They’re right there,” said McGreed, pointing to the Bear Scout cutouts.
They were very good cutouts. They looked exactly like the Bear Scouts. But to the deeply hypnotized Bigpaw they looked exactly like mosquitoes. “Bigpaw hate mosquitoes!” he roared. “Bigpaw bash ’em!” He rushed at the Bear Scout cutouts and beat them to a pulp.
“Stop! Stop!” cried the scouts as they poured out from behind the rocks. “Those are bad guys! Don’t listen to them! Don’t listen to them!”
“It’s those infernal Bear Scouts,” snarled McGreed. “They foiled our last scheme. It’s time to put an end to them! Bigpaw, deal with those mosquitoes!”
Bigpaw looked at the scouts. “Bigpaw hate mosquitoes. Mosquitoes bite Bigpaw’s nose. Make it itch. Make it sore.” He moved toward the Bear Scouts, swinging his clublike banjo. But it seemed to Ralph that the big guy’s heart wasn’t really in it. Ralph began to worry a bit. What was it that the magazine had said about the power of hypnotism?
McGreed urged Bigpaw on. “Bash ’em! Smash ’em!” he shouted. “Give those rotten mosquitoes what for!”
Bigpaw was about to do just that. He had backed the scouts up against the mountain and was about to smash them with his mighty banjo. The scouts realized that their friend was hypnotized and didn’t know what he was doing. “Don’t, Bigpaw! Don’t!” they screamed. “We’re not mosquitoes! We’re the Bear Scouts! We’re your friends! We love each other!”
That was what Ralph was trying to remember from the magazine: that there was one power hypnotism couldn’t overcome—the power of love!
And so it was that Bigpaw did not smash the Bear Scouts. Because what it said in the magazine was true. Just as Bigpaw was about to strike, the power of love broke through. Bigpaw looked at the scouts as if for the first time. “You not mosquitoes,” he said. “You Bear Scouts. You my friends.”
“I think we’d better get out of here fast,” said Ralph. He and McGreed began to edge toward the getaway cave.
Bigpaw turned to Ralph and McGreed. “You not Bigpaw’s friends!” he said, raising his banjo. “You bad guys! Bigpaw not hurt Bear Scouts. Bigpaw hurt bad guys!” With that, Bigpaw charged.
“Run for your life!” screamed Ralph. The miserable, scheming twosome streaked for the cave. They got there a split second before Bigpaw hit the cave entrance so hard that the mountain shook and the cave collapsed. There was a rumble inside the mountain.
“Those guys never bother Bigpaw again,” said the big fellow.
Brother put his ear to the mountain. “Those guys will never bother anybody again,” he said.
Bigpaw knelt down and held up his great palm. “Way to go!” said Brother as one by one the Bear Scouts stepped up and high-fived their enormous friend.
Chapter 13
Big Barking Dog
It was too much to say that Ralph and McGreed would never bother anyone again. It was fair to say that the collapse of the cave and the rockslide that followed would put them out of action for quite a while. The rockslide followed Ralph and the great singing expert all the way back down the secret, twisting, turning passageway and dumped them, tattered and torn, in Weaselworld. Ralph crawled out of the rock pile before McGreed came to and made a fast getaway. He certainly wasn’t going to hang around and let McGreed turn him back into Big Red Rooster.
As Ralph made his way back to his houseboat, he thought about hypnotism and the events of the day. Operation Revenge was perhaps just too much of a good thing. But that didn’t mean hypnotism couldn’t be a useful tool in separating folks from their money. He would need more practice, that’s all.
Ralph was exhausted when he got back to his houseboat. He dragged himself up the gangplank and collapsed in his easy chair. Once again, Squawk, his pet parrot, greeted him with an unwelcome greeting. “Get a regular job! Get a regular job!” squawked Squawk.
Hmm, more practice, thought Ralph, as he stared at the parrot. He walked over to the parrot, took out his watch, and started swinging it.
“You are getting sleepy,” said Ralph.
“You are getting sleepy,” repeated Squawk.
“When I say the words ‘evil eye’ you will no longer be yourself,” said Ralph.
“When I say the words ‘evil eye’ you will no longer be yourself,” repeated Squawk.
“You will be Big Barking Dog,” said Ralph.
“You will be Big Barking Dog,” repeated Squawk.
“And so I say evil eye!” cried Ralph.
No sooner had Squawk repeated the words “evil eye” than Ralph began running around on all fours barking and chewing the furniture. That’s what he was doing when the scouts arrived. The scouts had come to see if Ralph had survived.
“Arf! Arf!” barked Ralph, taking a bite out of the easy chair.
“What do you suppose happened?” said Fred.
“It looks to me like Ralph tried to hypnotize Squawk and it backfired,” said Sister.
“Ralph,” said Brother. “When I snap my fingers, you will once again be your old rotten self.” Brother snapped his fingers, and once again Ralph was his old rotten self.
“Hi, guys,” said Ralph. “What’s happening?”
The scouts looked at him as if he were some strange creature from a distant planet. “Later,” said Brother as he and the scouts exited the houseboat and headed for their clubhouse.
The scouts earned their Soil Conservation Merit Badge, and they were very proud of it. But they were just as proud of the fact that they had saved Bear Country from the evil influence of . . .
THE EVIL EYE!
Excerpt from The Berenstain Bears Chapter Book: Maniac Mansion
Chapter 1
Mansion Mishap
Papa Q. Bear was known far and wide as one of the finest carpenters in all Bear Country. That meant that he always had plenty of customers. In fact, he usually had a waiting list as long as your arm.
But Papa had one special customer who was always at the top of his list. That customer was Squire Grizzly. Because Papa was the best carpenter in Beartown, Squire and Lady Grizzly wouldn’t let anyone else take care of the woodwork at Grizzly Mansion.
Over the years Papa had probably done more work for the Grizzlys than for all his other customers put together. That was partly because Grizzly Mansion had so much woodwork. The mansion had dozens of rooms, and in every room there was woodwork on the walls and ceiling. There were also lots of stairways in Grizzly Mansion. Each stairway had wooden steps that sometimes needed repair and also finely carved banisters that had to be cleaned and refinished from time to time. Papa had even replaced damaged banisters on several of the stairways.
But an even bigger job than Grizzly Mansion’s woodwork was its furniture. Lady Grizzly was a collector of fine old furniture. Every room of the mansion was filled with priceless antiques she had bought over the years. Each time she bought one, she gave it to Papa Bear to take apart, clean, put back together, and refinish. If it was damaged in any way, Papa would repair it with the utmost care.
There were two reasons Papa took such great care with the antiques from Grizzly Mansion. First, he always took pride in his work. And second, he knew how much Lady Grizzly loved her antiques. The squire spoke often of how upset she got when even one of them had so much as a scratch.
Papa wasn’t at all surprised, then, to hear the panic in Squire Grizzly’s voice over the phone one summer afternoon.
“I broke it!” said the squire. “One of her favorite rosewood chairs! I’ve put on a little weight recently, and I must have sat down too hard on it. If she sees it, she’ll have a fit. Oh, if I’d only gone on that diet she’s been pestering me about!”
“Don’t worry, Squire,” said Papa. “I can start work on the chair first thing tomorrow morning and bring it back after lunch. Should I come to one of the side doors to pick it up so Lady Grizzly won’t see me and wonder why I’m there?”
“Don’t bother sneak
ing around,” said the squire. “Lady Grizzly’s still asleep.”
“I hope she isn’t ill,” said Papa.
“Oh, no. She hasn’t been able to sleep at night lately. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. Greeves the butler will show you to my office.”
Papa told Mama what had happened and headed out to the family car. But first he called upstairs to Brother, Sister, and Cousin Fred, who was visiting for the afternoon.
The cubs always enjoyed going along with Papa on his trips to Grizzly Mansion. The grounds were so beautiful, especially in the summer. And the mansion itself was full of interesting things to look at, such as old suits of armor and huge portraits of Grizzly forebears.
For Brother there was the added attraction of Bonnie Brown, his special friend. Bonnie was the Grizzlys’ niece. Her parents were in show business and were away from home most of the time. Sometimes Bonnie was in a play or show, too. The rest of the time she lived at Grizzly Mansion with her aunt and uncle.
The cubs hurried downstairs and piled into the car. Papa started it up, and off they went to Grizzly Mansion.
Chapter 2
A Bad Lot
Arriving at Grizzly Mansion was different from arriving at any other house. First Papa and the cubs had to stop at the front gate and report to the security guard on duty there.
“Papa Q. Bear to see Squire Grizzly,” said Papa.
“Greeves just buzzed me on the intercom and told me to expect you, Papa,” said the guard. “Drive right in.”
Papa steered the car up the long driveway and around the circle at its end. WhenGreeves greeted Papa and the cubs at the front door, they noticed that he had large bags under his eyes.
“You look tired, Greeves,” said Papa. “Anything wrong?”
