“We’re in search of white vegetables! Seen any?”
Max gave Chester a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what you want with ’em, but yes, I have seen some, as a matter of fact. Darndest thing; got up this morning, went out to dig up a bone I’d buried in the garden last week, and what do you think I saw?”
Howie dropped his box of toothpicks. “The early bird getting the worm?” he asked.
“Heh, heh, heh,” chuckled Max. “Clever little whippersnapper, isn’t he? No, young fella, what I saw was—”
“White vegetables!” Chester finished the sentence for him.
“Right on the money there, Chester. There must have been … oh, three or four at least … lying about the garden.”
“Are they still there?” Chester asked.
Max turned down the corners of his already turned-down mouth. “Guess so,” he said. “I don’t know where they’d’ve gone to.”
“Right!” said Chester. “Let’s go. That house over there, you say?”
“That’s right,” Max replied.
“You want to join us?” I asked.
“Uh, no thanks, Harold, ol’ boy,” Max replied. “I’ve had enough adventures for one day, if it’s all the same to you.” It was then that I noticed Max’s face was covered with scratches.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
At first he didn’t answer. Then, gazing off into the distance, he said softly, “Snowball.”
“Huh?”
“Snowball,” he repeated. Then, almost in a daze, he wandered off down the street, muttering to himself under his breath.
That was strange, I thought, as I trotted along to catch up with Howie and Chester. But then, Max always was a little peculiar. I wondered what he meant by “Snowball.”
I rounded the corner of the big yellow house Max had indicated was his to find Chester and Howie making stabs at what looked like a large white rutabaga. Their toothpicks kept breaking.
“Boy, this one’s tough,” Howie said. I noticed two other white objects lying nearby with toothpicks already sticking out of them. With a great deal of effort, Chester finally succeeded in getting the rutabaga to accept its toothpickled fate.
“Whew,” Chester said, wiping his brow. He looked around him at the rest of the garden. “Doesn’t look as if there are any more to take care of here.”
Howie scanned the garden as well. “No more here,” he echoed. Then he attacked a hose lying nearby. Growling, he wrestled with it, ignoring the fact that the sprinkler at the other end was bouncing and splashing all over the garden.
“Try not to leave teethmarks,” I advised.
“Come on, Howie, knock it off,” Chester said. “We’ve got to keep moving. You can play later.” He started off in the direction of the street when he came to a sudden halt.
“What if—” he said, shaking his head. “No, he couldn’t have. Not in one night. Still …”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Howie let out a yelp as water spurted into his eye. He began barking furiously at the leaking hose.
“Nice work,” I observed. “You’ve not only left teethmarks, you’ve expanded the sprinkler system. May I suggest we get out of here … fast?”
“Wait a minute,” said Chester. Howie ran up to Chester’s side, no doubt seeking his protection from the attacking garden hose. “I just had a thought. What if Bunnicula’s met up with one of his own kind? You know how they multiply, Harold.”
“Well, I don’t really,” I replied. “But if they’re like everybody else these days, they probably use those little pocket calculators. I would, except my paws are too big. I hit all the numbers at once. So I have to do it the old way, and I never could get the hang of it. Let’s see, four times six is eighteen. Or is it thirty-two? Or—”
Chester bopped me on the nose with his paw.
“Ouch!”
“Not that kind of multiplying, you twit.”
“Oh.”
“I’m talking about reproduction.”
I was aghast. “Shh,” I said, “not in front of the child.”
“Oh, it’s all right, Uncle Harold,” said Howie, who’d overheard the whole conversation. “I know all about that stuff. And Pop is right, rabbits really do multiply like crazy.”
“Right,” Chester said. “Let’s just hope we’re not too late. Come on.”
Wondering how it was that Howie knew so much more about reproduction than barbecues or garden hoses, I lumbered off behind Chester. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even hear him when he began yelling.
“It’s him!” I made out at last. “It’s Bunnicula! Harold, get over here.” I ran to join Chester and Howie, who were huddled behind a bush. Chester was looking in the direction of the house next door. There on a porch railing perched a furry white animal. A shadow fell across it so I couldn’t completely make it out, but it did look an awful lot like our missing rabbit.
“Grab him!” Chester commanded. “You’re the only one who can do it, Harold. Get him in your teeth and carry him on home.”
“Oh, Chester,” I protested, “you know how I hate getting hair in my mouth. Besides, he looks so peaceful lying there like that. Couldn’t we come back and get him later?”
“Later!? Later?!” Chester fairly shrieked. “Don’t you understand anything, Harold? Later may be too late. Get him now!”
He pushed at my haunches, and I set off toward the porch.
“Get him, Uncle Harold!” Howie cried.
With a leap, I grabbed the sleeping rabbit in my mouth and took off down the street.
“That’s it, Uncle Harold!” I heard Howie call out behind me. “Take the bunny and run!”
I’m sorry, Bunnicula, I thought, I really didn’t want to do this. Hopefully, you’ll sleep through the whole thing, and when we get you home, I’ll tuck you into your little bed in your little cage and you’ll be nice and cozy and—
That’s when I heard the woman scream.
“Help! Help!”
I looked over my shoulder. Howie and Chester were close behind. On the porch, where moments before the rabbit had been napping, stood a woman waving her arms in our direction.
“Help! Someone! Police! He’s got my cat! My precious cat! My … my … Snowball!”
Snowball! My mind reeled as I thought of Max’s scratched-up face.
As best I could, I looked down at the object I was carrying in my mouth. Its eyes turned upward to meet mine. There was a gleam in them, a gleam that spelled trouble with a capital S-N-O-W-B-A-L-L.
I gulped. Snowball hissed. The woman on the porch screamed.
“Help!”
You can say that again, lady, I thought. For both of us!
Chapter 4
An Unexpected
Journey
OH, WHY couldn’t you be a real snowball and melt? I thought as I raced down the street. The cat hanging from my jaws showed no signs of melting; rather, with his hair fluffed out in all directions, he seemed to be growing bigger with each passing second. Chester, I thought, I’m going to get you for this one, I really am. If I live. I looked around me, trying to figure out what to do next.
Chester and Howie came up on my right.
“Toss him!” Chester cried out as he moved into earshot.
“I’ll take him, Uncle Harold,” Howie barked excitedly. “I’m not afraid of cats.”
That’s because you haven’t lived long enough, kid, I thought.
Behind me, Snowball’s owner, swinging a broom, was fast approaching. I looked to my right. Wide open street. To my left. Wide open lawn. No safe place to ditch the bristling cat.
But just then, I noticed a mailman coming up the sidewalk in my direction. Behind him he pulled a cart. As I ran past, I flung Snowball into the mail-cart and hightailed it as fast as I could to the nearest parked car. Under I went. Chester and Howie were already cowering behind one of the wheels.