plot was all alone in the courtyard. the guard who was supposed to be there had made a mistake. he...

~yo"fUGHT ON •• •

Plot

NEW YORK • TORONTO • LONDON • AUCKLAND • SYDNEY Te 3 Ching MEXICO CITY • NEW DELHI • HONG KONG • BUENOS AIRES R~~

'-~~--~~--------~

Acknowledgments

"The Escape" by J.B. Stamper from THE ESCAPE. Copyright © 1999 by Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved.

"The Mystery in the Backyard" by Tom Conklin from COMPREHENSION CLIFFHANGERS by Tom Conklin. Copyright© 2001 by Tom Conklin. Published by Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved.

"Worst Friends" by Agnes Gardner. Copyright© 2004 by Tara McCarthy. All rights reserved.

ISBN 0-439-65979-5

Copyright © 2004 by Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved . Published by Scholastic Inc. Materials in unit may be used for

classroom use by purchaser. All other permission must be obtained from publisher.

~ .m

Contents

The Escape .................... 4 By ]. B. Stamper

The Mystery in the Backyard .... 16 By Tom Conklin

The Lamb With the Golden Fleece ................ 30 A retelling of a Hungarian folk tale

Worst Friends ................. 3 7 By Agnes Gardner

The Twins ........... . ........ 46 A poem by Henry S. Leigh

The Escape BY}. B. STAMPER

B oris looked down the long, dark hallway of

the prison. It looked endless.

He was being taken to a place that few people had

seen. But everyone feared it. Solitary. The other

prisoners said the word with a shudder.

Behind him, the guard laughed. "Well, this will

teach you a lesson," he said. "Once you've been in

solitary, there will be no more bad behavior from you."

f,

'" 1 11

Ill

'" "

THE ESCAPE

Boris forced his feet to move down the hall. He

knew there was no hope for him.

Seven years ago, he had committed a crime. It was

a crime so terrible that even he could not believe

that he had done it. Now he was in prison for the rest of his life. He

was trapped like an animal in a cage. He could not

face it any longer!

That's why he had tried to escape.

It had been just after sunset. He was all alone in

the courtyard. The guard who was supposed to be

there had made a mistake. He had left Boris alone.

Boris had run for the wall like an animal. He had

climbed up and was almost over. Then he had heard

the words, "Freeze, prisoner!"

And he had frozen.

That was just yesterday. Now he was headed to an

even worse cage. "You don't have to put me in solitary," Boris said

to the guard in a scared voice. "I'll never try that

again. I promise!"

The guard just laughed. "You'll learn your lesson,"

he said again. "Maybe they'll let you out after a few

months. But you're a tough one. I know what you did

to get inside. You don't deserve anybody's pity."

I

THE EscAPE

Boris felt hopeless. It was no good trying. He

would just have to deal with it, somehow. They were coming to the end of the hallway. Boris

saw the door at the end. He saw the bars across the

small window in the door. He knew that this was it. The others had told him

what it would be like inside. They were right. The guard unlocked three locks.

1[

'

II

THE ESCAPE

Then he swung open the door. He pushed Boris

inside.

The room was like a pen. It was long and narrow

with one bed. High up there was a small window

with bars across it.

The walls were of old, rough stone. To Boris, it

felt as if they were closing in on him.

His breath started to come in short gasps. His

heart pounded. Boris turned to the guard.

"No," he begged. "I can't take it here. Let me go

back to where I was. I'll never do anything wrong

again."

"You should have thought of that earlier," the

guard said. Then he slammed the heavy door in

Boris's face.

Boris reached for the door. He grabbed the bars in

his hands and tried to shake them.

"You'll be sorry!" he yelled after the guard.

The guard just looked back and laughed.

Boris sat down on the bed. He shut his eyes. He

didn't want to look around the cell. He was afraid

that he would lose his mind.

Thunder woke Boris from a terrible nightmare. In

the meantime, rats were running at him, screeching.

He opened his eyes. He was afraid the rats were

THE ESCAPE

really there. He hated rats more than anything. It

was his biggest worry ... that there might be rats in

solitary.

Boris looked around the cell. It was almost dark.

Then a flash of lightning lit up the cell. The light

fell on the wall at the head of his bed.

In those few seconds of light, Boris saw something

that made his heart leap. One of the stones in the

wall looked different. There was a thin crack in the

cement around it.

Boris tried to fight off a new feeling of hope. But

he couldn't help himself.

Maybe another prisoner had dug around the rock.

No one could see the crack unless they were lying on

the bed. He had only seen it because of the

lightning.

His hands were shaking. He reached down and

grabbed the large_stone. He moved it back and forth.

Then, suddenly, it came loose! Boris pulled, and

the rock fell forward into his hands.

As Boris stared into the hole left by the rock, a

flash of lightning lit it up. A tunnel stretched before

him ... with a rat hurrying down into it.

Boris jumped back in horror when he saw the rat.

illl!

THE EscAPE

He thought about putting the large stone back in

place.

Then another flash of lightning cut through the

darkness of the cell. The tunnel lit up in front of

him. It seemed to welcome him to freedom.

Boris measured the size of the tunnel with his

eyes. It was narrow at the beginning. But then it

became wider. It looked wide enough for him to

crawl though.

Another flash of lightning lit up the tunnel. He

searched for any sign of the rat.

"Maybe I didn't see it at all," Boris whispered to

himself. "Maybe it was just a shadow of my

nightmare."

Boris peered into the tunnel. He saw no sign of

the rat. But his eyes fell on something else. There

was a scrap piece of paper lying on the tunnel floor,

near the entrance.

He reached in and pulled it out. He felt its dry

surface. The paper was wrinkled with age.

He waited impatiently for the lightning to light

up the cell again. When it did, he quickly read the

message on the paper.

"To the next prisoner who find this paper," Boris

read. "I escaped the horror of this cell by this

THE EscAPE

passage. May you share my good luck."

The light faded away before Boris could finish

reading the message. He sat in the darkness, shaking

with fear and hope.

The message seemed to be written in a dark red

liquid. He guessed that it was the blood of the person

who had written it.

At last, the lightning came again. He read on,

"This is the only way out!" The message was signed

with two initials, "N.G."

Just then, Boris heard the guard's footsteps

outside his cell. He threw himself over the stone and

hole. He pressed his body against the wall.

He waited as the footsteps came to a stop outside

his cell. He thought he would scream from the

horrible tension.

Then the footsteps moved away. They slowly

drifted down the hallway. Finally, the noise faded

into the night. _

Suddenly, Boris knew he could not wait any

longer. He stuck his head into the tunnel and pushed

the rest of his body through.

He tried to look back, but the tunnel was too

narrow. There was no turning back now.

Boris squirmed deeper and deeper into the tunnel.

®

THE ESCAPE

Crawling on his stomach, he felt like a snake

slithering into its hole. He felt the tunnel grow

damper and colder.

Just as the tunnel began to grow slimy, it opened

up and became wider.

Boris stood up on his trembling legs. He tried to see

into the darkness ahead. He put his hands out in front

of him and walked slowly through the black tunnel.

The rocky walls were sharp and tore at his hands.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with one hand

and felt warm blood oozing from it.

Boris felt sick. His legs became weak with fear. He

dropped to his knees and fell forward onto his hands.

Then he felt tiny, clawed feet run over his fingers.

Boris heard his own scream echo and echo

through the tunnel.

Once again, the tiny claws of a rat dug into his

hands. Boris jumped to his feet, hitting his head on

the low ceiling of the tunnel.

Then he felt them all around him. The rats were

running over his feet. They were crawling at his legs.

Boris opened his mouth to scream. But he knew

he had to be quiet. He dug a fist into his mouth. He

made himself move forward into the tunnel.

All he could hope was the rats would not climb up

@

THE ESCAPE

@

THE EscAPE

his leg. If they did, he knew he would lose his mind.

Suddenly, the tunnel sloped down at a sharp angle.

Boris's feet slipped forward. He landed on his back.

He slid deeper and deeper into the tunnel. He no

longer felt the rats around him. He no longer heard

their claws scratching the rock.

Boris came to a stop where the floor of the tunnel

suddenly became flat. His breath was coming in short

gasps that tore at his lungs.

He picked himself up. He reached for the slimy

walls of the tunnel that he had just fallen down.

Then the truth hit him like a blow. He could

never go back. The walls of the tunnel behind him

were too steep and slippery.

He had only one chance. He had to push on. He

had to push on ... and hope that there was an end to

the tunnel.

Boris moved himself forward. He clawed at the

walls with his hands, trying to hurry.

The tunnel was beginning to feel more and more

narrow. His breath was coming in shorter and

shorter gasps.

Then the tunnel made a sharp turn to the left.

Suddenly Boris saw something that made him cry out

in relief. Through an opening in the distance, he

@

THE E SCAPE

could see the pale rays of the moon. He was almost there. He could smell the night air.

Boris struggled toward the patch of moonlight ahead

of him. The tunnel was turning upward. Boris had to grab

both sides of the wall and dig his feet into the cracks

in the wall. Slowly, he pulled himself up. Boris felt

the blood from his cuts run down into his sleeves.

But the pain didn't matter. All that mattered was

the patch of light ahead. Boris felt the night air

against his face. He was close now. Close to freedom.

Then a sound behind him terrified him. It was the

sound of those clawed feet. They were following him.

Boris scrambled up to the top of the tunnel even

faster. The moonlight was so bright now that he could

see his hands in front of him. He felt a rat brush

against his leg. But he had only a few yards to go.

With his last bit of strength, Boris lunged toward

the light. He felt his head crash into something hard

and cold. For a moment he was stunned. Then he opened his eyes. In front of him, the moon

shone through the bars of a heavy gate. Still pressed up

against it were the cold, white bones ... of a skeleton.

There was no escape. There was no going back.

This was it. Just Boris ... and the rats.

®

The Mystery in the Backyard

BY TOM CONKLIN

"you kids keep out of my yard!" Tony and Juan looked up. Old man

Kaufman stood on his back porch, shaking

his fist at the two boys. Juan forced a friendly smile.

"Sorry, Mr. Kaufman," Juan said. "We tossed our

ball over your fence by accident. I think it landed in

your garden."

"I said go!" Mr. Kaufman yelled, his face red with

anger. Kaufman grabbed a broom from the porch and

started to run after the boys. Tony and Juan sprinted

back to the fence and jumped over it to the safety of

the alley.

I I I

ll(rtl/(1 : l'ftj(~

@

THE MYSTERY IN THE BACKYARD

"What a grouch!" Juan panted, as he and Tony

stopped to catch their breath.

"Tell me about it," Tony said. "You're lucky to live

two blocks away. I have to put up with Kaufman as a

neighbor."

"So?" Juan replied. "I'm the one who lost a

baseball! What am I going to tell my dad when he

asks where it is?"

Clunk!

Something had sailed over the fence and landed

smack on Juan's head. He picked it up. It was his

baseball. Old man Kaufman had tossed it out of his yard.

"Thank you, Mr. Kaufman!" The boys chanted

sarcastically.

"And stay out!" the old man yelled from behind

the fence.

At dinner that night, Tony was whining about Mr.

Kaufman.

"Whenever I walk past his house, he's sitting on

the front stoop, staring at me, like he expects me to

rob him or something. I never did anything to him!"

"Mr. Kaufman has a hard life," Tony's mother gently

explained. "I don't know how he makes ends meet, not

since he lost his job as a newspaper reporter."

@


®


"Just because he doesn't have a job, that doesn't

give him the right to yell at me and my friends,"

Tony muttered.

Tony's father laid down his newspaper and stared

at his son. "No," he said. "By the same token, you

don't have the right to judge him. Not unless you

know what he's gone through." Tony's father shook

his head, then picked his newspaper back up.

"Imagine what it must be like, paying rent and

feeding yourself and your sick old mother ... without a steady job!"

Something his father had said made Tony think.

Tony knew that Mr. Kaufman shared the house

with his elderly mother. At nights, as he lay in bed,

Tony could hear the old woman's screechy voice as

she ordered her son around.

The funny thing was, it had been weeks since

Tony had seen or heard her.

Tony decided to keep an eye out for Mr.

Kaufman-and his missing mother.

Two days later, Tony sat on his front stoop,

reading a book. Mr. Kaufman sat on his stoop, staring

at the street and not saying a word. Over the

previous days, Tony hadn't seen or heard a sign of

Kaufman's mother. Now, it was as if Kaufman were


waiting for someone. But who?

A delivery truck pulled up in front of Kaufman's

house. Tony buried his nose in his book, all the time

listening closely as the delivery man trotted up to

greet Mr. Kaufman. "Sign here, please," he said, handing Kaufman a

clipboard. "Where do you want it?"

"In here," Kaufman said, shooting suspicious looks

up and down the street. He led the delivery man into

his house. Tony stole a glance at the delivery-three

large cardboard boxes. Later that night, Tony glanced out the window

of his family's bathroom. From there, he could see

across the yard and through a window into Kaufman's

house. What he saw surprised him. Kaufman stood

alongside three empty cardboard boxes, reading a

thick owner's manual. On a desk, he had set up a

brand new computer with a big, sturdy printer.

Tony gasped" "If he's so poor, how can he afford a new

computer?" Tony asked himself.

Early the next morning, Tony's mom pulled a full

bag out of the trash can. "I'll take the garbage out, Mom," Tony said, rushing

up to take the bag from her. She looked at him, shocked.

®


"What's gotten into him?" she asked her husband

as Tony headed down the back stairs.

Once he was in the alley, Tony dropped the

garbage bag into a trash can. Looking around to

make sure the coast was clear, he headed to the

garbage cans and stacks of newspapers outside

Kaufman's fence.

Tony gasped. Leaning against the fence were stacks

of freshly bundled glossy brochures. Tony looked at

them. They were advertisements for fancy cruises,

resorts on tropical islands, and other costly vacations.

"If he's so poor, why is he shopping for an

expensive trip?" Tony asked himself.

The next day, Tony told Juan about his

discoveries.

"It's just like this old movie I saw," Tony said. "I'll

bet he killed the old lady!"

"I don't know," Juan said. "Why would he do

that?"

"So he could get all of her money, of course,"

Tony said. "He killed her and took her fortune. Now

he's just waiting for a chance to get away." Tony had

a sudden thought and snapped his fingers. "I'll bet

that's why he chased us away from his garden. That's

where he buried her body!"

@


Juan groaned. "I think you're nuts."

"Oh, yeah?" Tony replied. "If he didn't kill her,

then where is she? No one has seen her for weeks.

And how was he able to afford a new computer? And

why was he looking at ads for expensive trips?"

"There could be a million reasons for any of those

things," Juan said. "Maybe," Tony admitted. "But all together, they

add up to murder."

Juan shook his head. "I don't think so," he said.

Tony decided to challenge his friend. "All right.

Join me in some detective work. We'll follow old

man Kaufman around. If we see his mother, or learn

how he's making his money, then I'll eat my words. If

not, we'll tip off the cops."

Tony held out his hand. Juan hesitated a moment,

then shook Tony's hand.

It turned out that Mr. Kaufman was pretty easy to

follow. Over the n~xt few days, he only made a few

trips to the corner store to buy some groceries. On Friday

he went to the post office to mail some bills. That

night he went to a church hall to play some bingo.

Juan and Tony followed him several steps of the

way. Although Mr. Kaufman didn't do anything

suspicious, the two boys didn't see a sign of his

@)


mother. She'd been missing for weeks now. Tony was

more certain than ever that she had been the victim

of foul play.

On Saturday, the boys got a break. Kaufman left

his house in the middle of the morning and shuffled

off to the public library. Tony and Juan followed.

They hung out in the kids' section, watching as

Kaufman gathered a large stack of books from the

shelves. He sat at a table, carefully going through the

books and making notes of information he found in

them. After four hours of work, Kaufman stood and

stretched, then headed out the door.

Juan moved to follow him.

"Wait!" Tony hissed. He led Juan over to the table

where Kaufman had been working. Tony looked at

the titles of the books Kaufman had been reading.

He gasped at what he saw:

True Crime

Murder and Mayhem

The Writer's Guide to Getting Away

With Murder

@


I 111 I


"Now what do you say?" Tony asked, staring at

1 , Juan with eyes wide.

,[

Juan gulped. "I say we should find out exactly

what Kaufman has planted in his garden," Juan said.

It was dark and cloudy when the boys scrambled

over the fence into Kaufman's yard late that night.

His windows were black. The only sound was the

distant rumble of traffic on the avenue.

"This way," Tony whispered. He led Juan to the

garden.

Each boy carried a stick. As they had planned,

Juan and Tony started at opposite ends of the garden,

jabbing their sticks into the earth. After a few

minutes of poking around, Tony's stick hit something

hard about ten inches beneath the surface.

"I found something!" he hissed. Juan came to his

side as Tony began to dig.

"What is it?" Juan asked.

"Sssh." Tony pulled something long and hard from

the dirt.

The moon appeared from behind a cloud. A shaft

of pale light fell on the yard. Tony saw what he held,

then yelped with fear and dropped it.

It was a bone!

®


®

[I

THE MYSTERY IN THE BAC KYARD

"Who's out there?" yelled a harsh voice. It was

Kaufman!

"Run!" Tony hissed.

Too late. A beam of light from a flashlight knifed

from Kaufman's porch across the yard, landing on

Tony's blinking face.

------ . -------

Tony sat at his kitchen table. He wished he could

have been hiding under it. Juan's parents had just left

after coming to pick up their son. Now, old man

Kaufman sat at the table opposite Tony, sipping a cup

of coffee. Tony's parents stood nearby. Although they

were acting very nice, Tony knew that as soon as

Kaufman left their smiles would disappear.

"I'm sorry if I've been a bad neighbor," Kaufman

said. "Privacy is important to me. Writing isn't easy,

so I don't like to be distracted."

"We understand," Tony's mom said. "And

congratulations on selling your first book."

"Thanks," he said. "With the money I've earned, I

was able to send my poor mother on a long vacation.

Goodness knows she deserved it. And at last I was

able to afford a computer."

Tony looked at Mr. Kaufman with suspicion.

®

THE MYSTERY IN THE BAC KYARD

"What about the bone I found buried in your

garden?" he asked.

"Promise you won't tell the police?" Mr. Kaufman

asked. "It's against the law to bury your pets in your

yard. But when our old dog Poochie died five years

ago, it broke mother's heart. We had to keep the old boy nearby."

Tony was still not convinced. "I saw you in the

library today," Tony said. "You were reading some

interesting stuff."

"I was doing research for my next book," Mr.

Kaufman said. "This one will be a murder mystery."

He smiled at Tony. "I think I've got an inspiration,"

Kaufman said. "It's going to star a boy detective!"

Even Tony had to smile as the three adults broke

into laughter.

I

I

I

The Lamb With the

Golden Fleece A retelling of a

Hungarian folk tale

T here was once a poor man who had a son,

and as the son grew up his father sent him

out to look for work. The son traveled about

looking for a place, and at last met with a man who

arranged to take him as a shepherd. The man gave

the boy a flute, and sent him out with the sheep to

see whether he was fit for this kind of work. The boy

worked hard, very unlike many lazy fellows . He drove

®

I!

' '

THE LAMB WITH THE GOLDEN FLEECE

his sheep from place to place and played his flute all

day long. Among the flock of sheep there was a lamb .

with golden fleece. Whenever the boy played his

flute, the lamb began to dance. The boy grew very

fond of this lamb and decided to ask his boss if he

could have the lamb rather than his wages. When he

returned home that evening, his boss waited at the

gate. When he saw the sheep all there and all well~

fed, he was very pleased. He agreed to hire the boy

and began to discuss wages. The boy said he would

watch the sheep for a year if he could have the lamb

with the golden fleece. The farmer was very fond of

the lamb himself, but knowing what a good shepherd

the boy was, he agreed to give him the lamb.

The year passed quickly and the lad received the

lamb for his wages. He set off home with it. As they

journeyed, night set in just as he reached a village.

The boy went to a farmhouse to ask for a night's

lodging. Now there was a daughter in the house who

when she saw the lamb with the golden fleece

determined to steal it. About midnight she stole

into the room where the shepherd was sleeping, but

the moment she touched the lamb, her hand stuck

hard~and~fast to its fleece. When the lad got up he

found her stuck to the lamb. He could not separate

®

THE L AMB WITH THE G OLDEN FLEECE

them, and as he could not leave his lamb he took

them both.

As he passed the third door from the house where

he had spent the night he took out his flute and

began to play. Then the lamb began to dance, and on

the wool the girl. Round the corner a woman was

putting bread into the oven. She looked up and saw

the lamb dancing and on its wool the girl. Seizing

the baking shovel in order to frighten the girl, she

rushed out and shouted, "Get away home with you,

don't make such a fool of yourself." As the girl

continued dancing the woman called out, "What,

won't you obey?" and tried to knock the girl off the

lamb with the shovel, which at once stuck to the

girl, and the woman to the shovel, and the lamb

carried them all off.

As they went they came to the church. Here the

boy began to play again, the lamb began to dance

and on the lamb's fleece the girl, and on the girl's

back the shovel, and at the end of the shovel, the

woman. Just then a priest was coming out of a church

and seeing what was going on began to scold them,

and told them go home and not be so foolish. As his

words were of no avail, he grabbed the woman with

his cane, when to his surprise the cane stuck to the

Il l

THE LAMB WITH THE GOWEN FLEECE

woman, and he to the end of his cane.

With this nice company, the lad went on. Towards ·

dark, he reached the royal city and took lodgings at

the end of the town for the night with an old

woman. "What news is there?" said he. The old

woman told him they were in a very great sorrow, for

the king's daughter was very ill, and no physician

could heal her. "If she could be made to laugh," said

the woman, "she would get better at once." And she

went on to explain that the king had issued a

proclamation that very day stating that whoever

made his daughter laugh should have her for his wife and share the royal power.

The lad with the lamb could scarcely wait till

daylight, so anxious was he to try his fortune. In the

morning he presented himself to the king and stated

his business and was very graciously received. The

daughter stood in the hall at the front of the house.

The lad then began to play the flute, the lamb to

dance, on the lamb's fleece the girl, on the girl's

back, the shovel, at the end of the shovel, the

woman, on the woman's back the cane, and at the

end of the cane, the priest. When the princess saw

this sight, she burst out laughing, which made the

lamb so glad that it shook everything off its back,

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®

I I


and the lamb, the girl, the woman, and the priest

each danced by themselves for joy.

The shepherd married the king's daughter, the

priest was made court-chaplain, the woman court

baker, and the girl, the lady-in-waiting to the

princess.

The wedding festivities lasted more than a week,

and the whole land joined in the celebration, and if

the strings on the fiddle hadn't broken, they might

still be dancing now!

Worst Friends BY AGNES GARDNER

T here were a lot of people I was sorry to say

goodbye to during the last day of school.

Westy Howchest was not one of them. You

might say we had very different interests. You might

say we had different views of life. You might just say

we disliked each other.

®

WORST FRIENDS

After school on the last day, Westy was in the

gym as usual. Helping Ms. Chisholm put away the

gym mats. He could carry about eight mats at a time.

When he knew people were looking in, he would go

into this great strong-guy act, lifting the mats like he

was Mr. Ripped.

As for me, I was in the library as usual, helping

Miss Forminster to file videos. At about five o'clock,

just as I was filing Alexander Graham Bell and

Thomas Edison, Westy came in. "Er, Miss

Forminster," he mumbled. "I need a ride home,

because the last bus left."

"Why don't you walk, and exercise all those calf

muscles?" I said.

Westy got mad. "Look, Thwackman, I would

rather develop my whole body, instead of just my

fingers, like you do, turning book pages."

Miss Forminster said she would give us both a ride

home. I managed to sit in front. Miss Forminster and

I began talking about movies. We were going along

Curve Passage Road, which is a little dirt road that

shortcuts between two highways, when the car

suddenly sputtered to a stop.

"Something's wrong," Miss Forminster decided.

All of us got out and looked at the car. We did things

®

-

WORST FRIENDS

like look under the hood and turn the key off and on.

But none of us knew that much about cars. So Miss .

Forminster said, "You two will have to go and get

help. No one's likely to come along for a long time."

Westy and I glared at each other and then went

up the road toward the main highway. "It must be about two miles away," I puffed.

Westy laughed. "Don't worry. Thwackman, I'll

carry you on my back when you get tired."

"Maybe we should take the shortcut across that field," I suggested, making a face at him.

Westy said, "Okay, we could do that in order to

save my strength." So we climbed over a fence and

went marching across a field.

Suddenly, out of somewhere, came this big

dog. "Yikes!" said Westy. He jumped way up and

grabbed the lowest branch of a lone tree. He was

hanging there, swinging his feet, when the dog came racing over.

It was a big dog and if it jumped on me, I would

be knocked down for sure. The noise it made did not

have a welcome ring.

"Hi fella," I said on a somewhat higher note than

usual. "Good boy, good dog."

To my relief and Westy's disbelief the dog stopped,

WORST FRIENDS

®

WORST FRIENDS

sniffed, then wandered away. Westy let go and dropped out of the tree, ripping

his shirt slightly. "A dog bit me once," he said. "I

don't think they like me."

"Well, some dogs aren't so friendly," I admitted.

"You never know."

We walked along, not saying anything. The light

began to fade. Lucky Miss Forminster, sitting by her

car! I was thinking about that, when I tripped and

fell flat on my face. I waited a second, expecting to hear Westy's laugh.

But he only said, "Your foot's in a tomato can." I

looked, and he was right. We worked a little while

trying to get the can off my shoe. But it was no use.

"We can just go a little slower," said Westy, "because

it will be hard to walk with a can on your foot."

"That's true," I said. Westy helped me over the

rough spots in the field. He found me a long stick to

use as a cane on my tomato-can side.

Finally in the distance we began to hear the hum

of highway traffic. There was also a very delicious

smell. "Hey, that's strawberries!" said Westy. "Here

we are hungry, and we're walking right through a

strawberry patch!" He began to eat strawberries

like mad.

@

--WORST FRIENDS

@

WORST FRIENDS

Then we knew there was a shadow near us. The

shadow was BIG. "What are you boys doing here?"

said the shadow. "I'm gonna run you in for

trespassing!" He pointed at Westy. Westy's chin was

all red from strawberry juice, and his eyes were

popping out of his head.

"Look," I said to the man. "This is my brother,

and, er, he's been lost for five days in the woods, and

I just found him. Naturally, he is slightly hungry. He

just saw the strawberries and couldn't help himself."

The man said, "He sure looks in good shape for a

guy without food for five days!"

"He's always kept in good shape," I said. "He even

exercised while he was lost."

The man began to laugh. "What a story!" he said,

turning away. "Oh, well, go your way. He couldn't

have eaten that many berries."

"It's a lucky thing you made that guy laugh," said

Westy. He and I were almost to the highway now. We

could see a big sign peeking up over the trees. It said

Paul's Power Pumps. A gas station! Help for Miss

Forminster!

When we got to Paul's Power Pumps, we met

Miss Forminster, sitting in her car. "Oh, boys, there

you are!" she said. "Someone did stop and help me.

®

WORST FRIENDS

I looked for you as I drove here. I was just thinking

that you would probably take a shortcut across

the field."

She looked at my foot. "Why are you wearing a

tomato can?" she asked. She looked at Westy. "What

is that red stuff on your chin? How did your shirt get

torn? Are you both all right? What happened to you

anyway?"

Westy and I looked at each other. "Nothing," we

giggled. "We just got to know each other a little,

that's all."

The Twins BY HENRY S. LEIGH

In form and feature, face and limb,

I grew so like my brother,

That folks got taking me for him,

And each for one another.

It puzzled all our kith and kin,

It reached an awful pitch;

For one of us was born a twin,

Yet not a soul knew which.

One day (to make the matter worse),

Before our names were fixed,

As we were being washed by nurse

We got completely mixed;

And thus, you see, by Fate's decree,

(Or rather nurse's whim),

My brother John got christened me,

And I got christened him.

®

This fatal likeness even dogged

My footsteps when at school,

And I was always getting flogged,

For John turned out a fool.

I put this question hopelessly

To everyone I knew-

What would you do, if you were me,

To prove that you were you?

Our close resemblance turned the tide

Of my domestic life;

For somehow my intended bride

Became my brother's wife.

In short, year after year, the same

Absurd mistakes went on;

And when I died-the neighbors came

And buried brother John!

®

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moment he was stunned. ' '

-The Escape by j.B. Stamper

• • •

ISBN: 0-439-65979-5

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