With a roar, the motor began to churn.
Ereth, startled by the noise, fell hard against the lever he had been licking, shoving it forward. Next moment the bulldozer began to move.
“Hey!” cried Junior from the floor of the cab. “What’s happening?”
Ereth, righting himself, looked around. “Sugared squash rackets! This thing is moving!”
“How did that happen?” said Mephitis, trying to hold on.
Junior righted himself, then climbed up to the driver’s seat and then up to the dashboard. “Uncle Ereth,” he shouted, “you better do something!”
“Why should I do something, fuzz ball? You started the motor, not me!”
“But I don’t know what to do!”
“How did you start it?”
“It must have been the key. I think I turned it.”
“Then turn it back, banana brain. Turn it back!”
“Whoa,” called Mephitis, “this thing moves fast.”
Junior leaped for the key, grabbed it, clung to it with his whole body, and tried to twist it around. It was no use.
“Pancake puddles!” screamed Ereth. “Turn it off!”
“I can’t!” Junior shouted.
Mephitis hauled himself up to the seat, sat up, and looked out. “Hey, guess what?” he said.
“What?”
“We’re heading right for Gray House.”
CHAPTER 32
The Bulldozer Comes
THE BULLDOZER IS COMING! The bulldozer is coming!”
Poppy was chatting with Basil on the back steps when the frightful cry rang out.
The two mice leaped up and ran through the house to the front porch. Frightened mice were racing in all directions, squealing, squeaking, crying, screaming, and yelling. As they tried to reach safety, they pushed and shoved one another. Some leaped headlong off the porch. The mice in the yard raced away as fast as they could go into tall grass.
Poppy looked beyond the milling mice. Sure enough, the gigantic yellow bulldozer was moving slowly but relentlessly toward the house. “Basil,” she shouted over the din, “I need to get Lungwort out!”
“I need to get to my wife and kids,” said Basil, and raced off.
Bucking the flow of the panicky crowd, Poppy plunged back into the house and hurried into the old boot. Lilly and Sweet Cicely were already there, trying to get the old mouse up out of his bed.
“What’s happening?” demanded a coughing Lungwort as he reached for his thimble cap and tried to put it on his head. He managed, though it perched in lopsided fashion. “Where is Poppy?” he demanded.
“I’m right here, Papa,” cried Poppy. “You need to get out of the house right away. The bulldozer is coming.”
“Coming? When? Where?”
“This very second! It’s about to knock the house down.”
“How close is it?” Lilly asked.
“It’ll be here in minutes. The house is sure to collapse.”
“Oh dear,” cried Sweet Cicely. “Why must this happen right in the middle of Lungwort’s nap?”
Lungwort managed to get up but pulled himself free from Sweet Cicely’s grasp. “Let me go, drat it! I can move on my own.”
“Dearest,” implored Sweet Cicely, taking hold of Lungwort again. “You really must leave the house.”
“Never!” cried Lungwort. “A mouse goes down with his house. Poppy, why aren’t you doing something?”
“Papa,” cried Lilly. “If you stay, you’re going to be killed.”
“Who would be mad enough to destroy Gray House?” cried Lungwort.
“What does it matter, Papa?” said Lilly. “It’s happening.”
Lungwort blinked, as if finally understanding. “But . . . but then what should I do?” he cried.
“Papa,” said Poppy. “Listen to Lilly! She knows best.”
Lungwort looked around. “She does?”
“Yes!”
With Lungwort allowing himself to be helped, they all began to move out of the boot.
“But who is committing this heinous crime?” the old mouse demanded as they approached the front door of the house. “What terrible beast is doing this? I demand an answer!”
“Please, Papa,” said Lilly. “There’s no time to talk. We just need to get out of the house.”
“But what will happen to us?” said Lungwort. “This is the only home we have!”
“You can decide later,” said Lilly. “Your safety is what’s important now.”
On the porch most of the mice had already fled to secure locations at some distance from the house. Poppy could see them scattered through the grass, staring with a mix of horror and fascination at the huge bulldozer, which was still moving, though at a painfully slow pace, toward the house. The horrifying vision was made even worse by the spewing of black fumes and the deafening snarl of the motor.
“This way, dearest,” Sweet Cicely coaxed as she and Lilly urged, pushed, and pulled Lungwort down the porch steps.
Poppy, keeping a vigilant eye on the approaching bulldozer, came right behind. Suddenly she realized she was not seeing a human in the cab. She was so baffled she stopped and stared: the bulldozer appeared to be moving entirely on its own.
Lungwort, supported by Sweet Cicely and led by Lilly, reached the ground and moved haltingly to safety. As Poppy followed, she stole a look back. No one was coming out the door. It appeared as if the entire house had been evacuated.
She turned back to the bulldozer. The great machine was rumbling forward, drawing ever closer to Gray House. As Poppy fixed her eyes on it, she knew with wrenching certainty there was no way it could avoid striking the house. The structure was doomed. Even so, she did not move. Why, she kept asking herself, was no one driving the machine?
As the bulldozer drew ever nearer, Poppy told herself she absolutely must move. She was just about to leap for safety when she suddenly saw a head pop up in the bulldozer cab. It was Ereth.
Poppy opened her mouth in astonishment. The next moment she saw Mephitis lift his head. And there, standing atop the cab’s dashboard was Junior, his red fur a sharp contrast to the bulldozer’s dirty yellow color.
There being no time to stand there flabbergasted, Poppy raced to the end of the porch and dived onto the grass below. Landing awkwardly, she picked herself up, gave herself a shake, ran a few feet, then turned to look back.
