Runaway Ralph

by Beverly Cleary

  “And I can tell you one thing,” continued Chum, “he’s not going to come near the craft shop until that watch is found.”

  “But what about me?” squeaked Ralph in dismay, thinking of the sign above his cage. “Nobody else feeds me. I’ll starve!”

  “I’ll try to toss you an alfalfa pellet once in a while,” said Chum generously. “My aim isn’t very good, but I should be able to get one into your cage now and then. Enough to keep you going.”

  Going where, wondered Ralph. No place. What was to become of him when the summer ended and all the campers went home? Would Garf take him away or would everyone forget him and leave him to starve? He did not want to spend the rest of his life in a cage, and he certainly did not want to be kept alive on a few cast-off alfalfa pellets only to starve at the end of the summer. There was just one answer. Ralph had to escape.

  The campers finished a rousing chorus of You Are My Sunshine, when Ralph’s sharp ears caught a sound that had him on his feet in an instant. Pb-b-b-b. Pb-b-b-b. It was the sound a boy uses to make a toy motorcycle go! It was made softly as if by a boy alone in his thoughts. Garf had found Ralph’s motorcycle!

  “Hey!” squeaked Ralph at the top of his small voice. “That’s my motorcycle!”

  Garf stopped pushing the motorcycle across the bamboo leaves just long enough to make Ralph think he might have heard. Then, to Ralph’s disappointment, he put the motorcycle in the pocket of his jeans and went off toward his lodge for the rest period required of all the campers.

  Ralph was so excited he left the bars of his cage and went for a run on his wheel. Garf spoke his language! He knew how to make the motorcycle go. There was hope after all. All Ralph had to do was explain to Garf—

  As Ralph thought the matter over, his exercise wheel moved more and more slowly until it came to a stop and Ralph sat back on his haunches. His plan would not work. Until Garf was cleared of the theft of the watch, he was not going to risk coming into the craft shop. Ralph had to agree that Chum was right.

  7

  The Escape

  Ralph was desperate to escape. His food supply was running low, and as Chum had predicted Garf stayed away from the craft shop. Ralph ran around the sides of his cage hoping that there might be an opening, one overlooked space wide enough for a mouse to squeeze through. There was none, as he had known all along. He pushed on the door with all his strength, but he could not budge it. He ran on his wheel in hope that it might just once take him someplace, but of course it did not. Ralph needed help.

  “Hey, Chum,” he called over to the hamster, who was noisily wearing down his teeth on the bars of his cage. “You’re a stretchy fellow. See if you can stretch over here and pull this door open.”

  For once Chum obliged by putting his shoulder to the bars of his cage, stretching his foreleg as far as he could, and reaching with his paw. He barely managed to flick a wire of the side of Ralph’s cage with a toenail.

  “There must be some way we can get out of here,” said Ralph. “There’s got to be.”

  “Not for me,” answered Chum. “I wouldn’t leave if I could. I’ve lived in a cage all my life, and I’m too old to start scrounging. Besides, I rather enjoy trying to bite the hands that feed me.”

  “I would rather scrounge than starve,” said Ralph. He still had a supply of food, but he pawed through some old sunflower seed husks to make sure he had not missed any edible bits.

  Over in the dining hall the campers, unaware that a mouse was soon to starve, sang with gusto:

  “The ants came marching two by two.

  Hurrah! Hurrah!

  The ants came marching two by two.

  Hurrah! Hurrah!

  The ants came marching two by two,

  And the little one stopped to tie his shoe.”

  As his food supply dwindled further, Ralph felt nervous and guilty. His mother had taught him to store food. The sight of the campers’ mosaics made of dried peas and beans was hard to bear. He felt he would no longer object to a little dried glue on his food. When Chum managed to toss an alfalfa pellet into his cage, he was humbly grateful.

  Outside his cage the campers went about their activities unaware of the desperate mouse in the craft shop. Lana cradled Catso in her arms whenever she could catch him, and the smug look on that cat’s face was unbearable to Ralph. Karen returned to paint her bleach-bottle piggy bank. Everyone who passed her worktable asked if her watch had been returned, and Karen, busy with her piggy bank, shook her head.

  Occasionally Ralph’s ears caught the familiar pb-b-b-b, pb-b-b-b, and he looked out to see Garf pushing his motorcycle across a bench or around the edge of the Ping-Pong table as if he were lost in a dream of speed and danger. The sight of his precious motorcycle made Ralph even more frantic for freedom.

  And then to add to his troubles, there was still Catso, who had been only temporarily amused by the wristwatch and who would sooner or later, Ralph was sure, return to the cage. Ralph felt thin, nervous, and run-down. His cage was untidy even by mouse standards of housekeeping. “I wish I knew how to stage a jailbreak,” he confided to Chum.

  “If there is anything I can do to help, let me know,” said Chum, and cracked a sunflower seed he had earned that morning when he had stuffed his cheeks until he had fallen to the bottom of his cage.

  Chum might toss me a sunflower seed instead of those alfalfa pellets, thought Ralph crossly.

  At rest period Aunt Jill came into the craft shop to straighten supply shelves. Ralph watched as she sorted dried seeds, which looked delicious, as well as weeds and pinecones. As he watched, he saw a possibility of help. After all, Aunt Jill, unlike most women, was kind to mice. Looking as small and as pitiful as possible, Ralph clung to the bars of his cage.

  In time, Aunt Jill noticed him. “Hello there, little fellow,” she said kindly.

  Ralph made his whiskers quiver. “Let me out of here,” he said, quite sure the woman could not understand.

  Aunt Jill smiled when she heard the mouse squeak and offered him a sunflower seed, which he snatched and cracked so greedily that he forgot to look pitiful.

  “My, but you’re a hungry little fellow,” remarked Aunt Jill, but she did not offer him another seed. Instead, when the camp awoke, she called to Garf, who came to the door of the craft shop but did not enter.

  “Your mouse is hungry,” said Aunt Jill.

  “Somebody else can feed him,” said Garf.

  “He’s your personal mouse,” reminded Aunt Jill.

  “I didn’t take the old watch,” said Garf. “I don’t want to come in there.”

  “I am sure you didn’t take it,” said Aunt Jill calmly, “but don’t forget that you wanted to be the only one to feed your mouse. He is hungry and his cage needs to be cleaned.”

  Garf hesitated but entered the craft shop, and while Ralph scrambled around looking for a way out, he slid the bottom from the cage, changed the cedar shavings, and replaced it. He detached the water bottle, filled it at the sink, and was fastening it to the cage when Aunt Jill went out, leaving the boy alone with the two animals.

  Here at last was the moment Ralph had been waiting for. “Say, Garf—” he began, but the boy, not expecting the mouse to speak, appeared not to hear. Ralph was desperate. “Say, Garf!” he said at the top of his mouse voice.

  When Garf glanced at him, Ralph said as loud as he could, “Listen to me! You know that motorcycle you’ve been playing with? It’s mine.”

  Garf stared at his mouse. “You’re talking,” he said in an astonished whisper. “I don’t believe it. You’re talking!”

  Ralph had spoken and Garf answered. They were both so excited they were speechless. Finally Garf spoke again. “Go on. Say something more.”

  Ralph pulled himself together and remembered why speaking to Garf was urgent. “Pb-b-b-b,” he sputtered, to show Garf what he meant. “That motorcycle. It’s mine. Pb-b-b-b. That’s the noise I make to run it.”

  “You’re joking!” Garf continued to stare at
Ralph as if he could not believe what was happening.

  “No, I’m not,” said Ralph. “I hid it under the bamboo leaves just before that cat pounced on me. I hid my crash helmet, too.”

  “Your crash helmet!” Garf could not help laughing, which, of course, hurt Ralph’s feelings. The boy pulled the motorcycle out of his pocket, studied it, and then studied Ralph. “It’s the right size,” he admitted. “If it’s yours, where did you get it?”

  “Back at the Mountain View Inn.”

  “The Mountain View Inn!” Garf was surprised. “What were you doing there?”

  “It is my home,” said Ralph with dignity. “A boy who was a guest there gave me the motorcycle.”

  “No kidding!” Garf almost believed Ralph.

  “Let me out of here,” pleaded Ralph. “I’ll show you I can ride it.”

  Garf looked as if he were tempted, but he said almost regretfully, “No, you might run away, and I want to keep you.”

  “Aw, come on, Garf,” coaxed Ralph.

  “Nope,” said Garf, “and I’ve got to get out of here. Aunt Jill just left to give me a chance to return that watch, and I don’t have it. I don’t have it, and I don’t know where it is.”

  Ralph saw an opportunity for bargaining. “I do,” he said. “I know where the watch is.”

  “Where?” asked Garf.

  “Let me out, and I’ll tell you,” said Ralph.

  “No,” said Garf. “I’m going to take you home with me.”

  “Your mother won’t like it,” said Ralph. “She’ll make you get rid of me.” He knew by the look on Garf’s face that he had struck a sensitive spot so he continued. “She will say I am messy, and she will say I—smell.”

  Garf looked uncomfortable.

  “Let me out of here, and I’ll show you where the watch is,” persisted Ralph.

  Garf looked as if he might be tempted. He thought awhile, and said, “My mother might let me keep a mouse. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. And I don’t want to know where the watch is. If anyone saw me trying to return it, they would say I stole it and I didn’t.”

  Ralph’s hopes dwindled. “I know you didn’t steal it,” he said, “because I know who did.”

  “Who?” Naturally Garf was curious to know the name of the real thief.

  Ralph considered. Should he tell or should he not tell? He decided that telling might convince Garf that he was trying to help him. “Catso,” he said. “Catso the cat took it.”

  Garf gave Ralph a look of disgust. “Now I know you’re lying,” he said. “What would a cat do with a watch?”

  Ralph was beginning to feel frantic. “Pretend it’s a mouse. Play with it. Toss it around. You know how cats do.”

  Garf grinned. “For such a little fellow you sure have a big imagination.”

  “I’m not imagining it,” said Ralph. “Catso took it. I saw him. Honest.”

  “Aw, you just don’t like cats,” said Garf, and started to leave.

  Ralph sat miserably back on his haunches. “Well, even if you don’t believe me, don’t forget to feed me.”

  “Glad you reminded me,” said Garf, and gave Ralph a generous supply of food before he left the craft shop. He paused by the bamboo where he had found the motorcycle, stirred the leaves with his foot, and uncovered the thistledown-lined half of a Ping-Pong ball, which he picked up and examined. He glanced back in Ralph’s direction before he put the helmet in his pocket and went to his lodge.

  In a few moments Aunt Jill returned, glanced at the shelf beside Ralph’s cage, and frowned slightly as if she were puzzled about something. Ralph settled greedily at his food dish. I’ll show that Garf, he thought, as he crammed seeds into his mouth with his paws. As soon as I get out of this cage I’ll show him.

  When Ralph’s stomach was comfortably full, he took a long nap. By the time he awoke the craft shop was empty, the camp strangely quiet. A few chickens scratched under the walnut trees, and the kittens tumbled about trying to catch one another’s tails. A horse whinnied in the pasture, but there was no one in sight. “Where is everybody?” Ralph asked Chum.

  “They’ve all gone down to the river for a swim and a picnic supper,” answered Chum. “Peaceful isn’t it? I finally got some sleep in the daytime.”

  In the distance Sam barked and campers shouted and laughed. Ralph felt so stodgy from overeating that he went for a run on his wheel before he scuttled around the edges of his cage. His search was futile. Garf had replaced the bottom and fastened the door securely.

  Suddenly the hair along Ralph’s spine began to tingle. Catso! Ralph huddled in the corner of his cage and tried to make himself invisible. Catso squeezed through the hole in the screen and landed with a soft thud on the workbench beneath Ralph’s cage. Ralph squeezed himself into a tighter ball. He felt as if the beat of his heart was as loud as the tick of the missing watch. Why couldn’t Sam stay home and guard the camp the way he was supposed to? This time there was no watch to distract Catso. Catso stood with his front paws on Ralph’s shelf and sniffed the cage. Then he sat down and calmly began to wash. First his right ear, then his left. The suspense was more than Ralph could bear. Catso stretched out his left hind leg and began to groom his left hind foot. He licked with long careful licks, combing his fur neatly toward his toes.

  Suddenly Ralph had an inspiration. He was about to take a terrible chance, but with no one to protect him from a sneaky cat, he had nothing to lose. Anything was better than cringing in a corner waiting for that beast to wash and comb every hair on his body.

  Ralph took charge. He left his corner, sprang on his wheel, and raced so fast he looped the loop. That activity caught Catso’s attention all right! The cat sat there with his hind leg in the air looking surprised.

  Ralph leaped from his wheel and faced Catso through his bars. The cat forgot about his grooming and, jumping to his feet, placed his front paws on the shelf and stared into Ralph’s cage. Hiding his terror, Ralph stared back.

  “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a disrespectful mouse,” said Catso, and with a swipe of his paw sent the cage flying.

  Ralph was prepared. He hung onto the bars and braced himself. Water splashed and seeds flew. One corner of the cage struck the worktable, jarring the bottom loose, exactly as Ralph had planned. The cage bounced and landed on its side. Ralph sprang out through what had once been the bottom. This accident was his chance!

  Catso pounced, but before his paws could land on Ralph he was thrown off his aim by a sudden hissing sound from above. Startled, he missed Ralph’s tail by the width of a whisker. Ralph was startled too, but the unexpected noise did not prevent him from scrambling behind a jar of nails on the worktable.

  When Ralph got up the courage to peek around the jar of nails, he saw Catso staring up at Chum’s cage. He heard the hissing sound again and knew that it must be coming from Chum. Good old Chum! Ralph hadn’t known that a hamster knew how to hiss.

  When Catso recovered from his surprise he was after Ralph, who dashed from behind the nails as the jar was sent rolling across the table. Crash! It landed on the floor and broke, scattering nails across the craft shop. Ralph leaped behind the supplies of beans and peas and hamster food with Catso after him. Jars crashed, bags tumbled and split as they fell. Crash! Bang! Smash! Noise and flying glass did not stop Catso. Ralph leaped behind the big spools of lanyard plastic. Catso knocked over the spools and the plastic unreeled, tangling about his feet.

  While Catso freed himself from the plastic, Ralph found behind the worktable a slanting piece of wood that was a brace between the studs of the rough walls of the craft shop. Ralph ran down the brace as Catso tried to squeeze his head between the edge of the worktable and the wall. He could get his head in the space but not the rest of his body. He pulled back his head and tried to reach Ralph with his paw. Ralph, however, was too far down the brace.

  Next Catso leaped to the floor and ran under the table. Ralph scurried up the brace so that he was above the table and beyond Catso’s rea
ching paw. Back to the tabletop went Catso and down the brace ran Ralph, once again beyond the stretch of those curved and groping claws.

  Frantic with frustration, the cat sprang from the table while Ralph ran up the brace. Once more Catso reached and stretched and groped. Ralph’s courage and confidence had returned. He advanced within half an inch of Catso’s longest reach. Catso tried, but could stretch his foreleg no farther.

  Ralph sat down, and said, “This could go on all day. You might as well give up. You know I’m too smart for you.”

  Catso, after one more effort to stretch farther, withdrew his paw, came out from under the table, and picked his way daintily and disdainfully through the jumble of seeds, nails, and plastic cord as if the mess was beneath his notice. He held his tail proudly erect, but he did not fool Ralph. That cat had been defeated.

  Catso squeezed out the hole in the screen door. Ralph was safe! Safe and free. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get his motorcycle away from Garf, and he would be on his way back to the Mountain View Inn. In the meantime, he settled down to feast on all the seeds that Catso had spilled for him.

  8

  Ralph Strikes a Bargain

  Lana was the one who discovered that Ralph was missing. The morning after Ralph’s escape she came running ahead of Aunt Jill to the craft shop. She stopped short when she looked through the screen door and saw the litter of nails, seeds, and plastic strewn about the worktable and on the floor.

  “Aunt Jill! Aunt Jill!” she shrieked, even though Aunt Jill was directly behind her. “Burglars have been here, and somebody stole Garf’s mouse!”

  Ralph crouched out of sight behind a fluff of dust in the angle where the brace joined the studding. He heard campers coming.

  “Garf! Garf!” called Lana. “Your mouse is gone! Somebody stole your mouse!”

  “Hey, look at the mess!” said Pete.

  “The mouse cage is all bent,” observed Garf. “A thief wouldn’t have to bend the cage to open it.”