As Ragweed continued to wander he heard a sound that seemed familiar. It took him a moment to recognize the train whistle. It came to him like the call of an old friend. In his meandering he had drawn close to the railroad.
He reached the end of the block. The railroad tracks were just across the way. Clutch’s car stood on the far corner. He could even see her entryway.
Ragweed faced his choices: to board the train out of Amperville or to wait for his new friend to return.
He thought again about the death of so many mice and the destruction of the Cheese Squeeze Club. With a sigh he had to admit there was every reason for the mice to be discouraged. Struggling against F.E.A.R. just didn’t seem worth it. “I mean, like, maybe that’s what city life is about,” he told himself. But if he left, didn’t he owe it to Clutch to at least explain why he was leaving?
“Stop making excuses,” he told himself. “Go while you still have the chance. Face it, dude, city life isn’t for you.”
As Ragweed moved closer to the tracks, he noted the pile of junk where he had hidden from Silversides upon his arrival. Though he knew it was not the sweetest-smelling of places, he decided he could hide there safely, at least until a train came by.
A quick dart took him deep within the pile. “Phew!” he murmured. “Totally stinky.” Detouring around some old cans, he found a high, dry perch that provided an unobstructed view of the train tracks.
“Which direction should I go?” Ragweed mused. After some reflection he decided he would leave that decision to fate. He would hop the first train that came from either direction.
“Except, no way I’m going back home to the Brook,” he promised himself. “Not yet. Wouldn’t be cool.”
So resolved, Ragweed squatted down, fixed his gaze upon the tracks, and prepared to wait for as long as it took for the train to show up.
He had been there for some time when his eyes began to wander. Only then did he see that not far from where he was, near the heap of dirty-white clay chunks, Silversides was crouching. “Oh, bummer,” Ragweed groaned. “It’s her again. What’s she doing here?”
Moving carefully so the cat would not notice him, Ragweed edged himself higher on the pile in order to get a better view.
It was then that he saw what held Silversides’s rapt attention. On the mound of white clay, some eight feet from where the cat crouched, a mouse was perched. To Ragweed’s amazement the mouse was entirely white.
Ragweed had never heard of, much less seen, a completely white mouse before. His first thought was that he was seeing a ghost. He stared at this mouse intently to reassure himself that the mouse was in fact real. Moreover, not only was it real, it was very frightened.
Ragweed’s speculations were interrupted by the sound of a whistle. A train was coming.
“Bummer! All I want to do is get out of here,” Ragweed reminded himself. “Nothing but weird cats chasing weird mice. Too much. No way do I mess with this dude Silversides again.”
Even so, Ragweed could not take his eyes from the scene. The cat was creeping closer and closer to the white mouse. For his part, the white mouse kept poking his head up, then ducking down into a hiding place. It dawned on Ragweed that the mouse was not aware of Silversides.
“Hey, dude,” Ragweed murmured under his breath, “unless you do something fast you are, like, going to be a ghost for sure.”
CHAPTER 14
Ragweed Makes Up His Mind
AS THE TRAIN WHISTLE grew louder, Silversides continued to creep forward, drawing ever nearer to the white mouse.
Horrified by what was unfolding before his eyes, but not knowing what to do, Ragweed rose up on his hind legs. Silversides was too intent on the other mouse to notice him.
The huge train—headlamp flashing, bells ringing, motors roaring—swept into view. Every few seconds the whistle blew its lonely tune of mournful wandering. Ragweed could see nothing but boxcars, many of which had their doors open.
The train moved slower and slower until, just as it had done when Ragweed was aboard, it lurched to a banging stop. Boarding would be easy.
A deep longing came over Ragweed. He wanted to be home. He had been a fool to leave. Instead of hiding in the midst of garbage, he could be frolicking in the clear, bright Brook with his brothers and sisters. What was Amperville to him? Nothing but dirt, danger, endless talk, and F.E.A.R.
He glanced toward the mound of clay. The white mouse was still oblivious to what was about to happen to him.
“Hey, dude,” Ragweed said, talking to himself, “like, that’s his lookout. I mean, I’m out of here.” Though he said the words, he remained where he was and kept his eyes on the scene before him.
Forcing himself to turn from what surely was going to be a scene of carnage, Ragweed darted toward the train. Halfway there he halted and looked back.
Silversides was crouched low. Her rump was wiggling. Her rear legs were tensed. She was preparing to pounce.
Ragweed’s stomach churned. His pulse quickened. It was all too ghastly. Once more he began to move toward the train before stopping again. Could he just go and leave this strange white mouse to its terrible fate? “No,” he said aloud, “I can’t do it. It’s too awful. Like, if I don’t try to do something for that mouse I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
Glancing around, he saw that he had reached a spot that might enable him to distract the cat, yet still get to the train.
Rising up tall, Ragweed cupped his paws around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, dudes! Like, what’s up?”
Startled, Blinker looked around. Then and only then
