Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits by Michael D. Beil

Author:Michael D. Beil [Beil, Michael D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-385-75319-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2014-04-08T04:00:00+00:00

I stayed on with Billie at Twin Elms Farm through the long winter, but as the last of the snow melted, those old feelings of wanderlust sprouted along with the first spring crocuses and daffodils. Meanwhile, news about Daisy’s sudden transformation spread through the area, and other cats began to show interest in the barn at Twin Elms. When an old friend of Billie’s—a dapper tuxedo named Alistair—appeared late one night, I knew that the time had come for me to move on.

Daisy escorted me to the stream that marked the boundary of the farm and showed me where I could cross without getting my paws wet. For a few seconds, we stared at each other from opposite sides of the stream; we then barked and meowed our goodbyes, and I struck out on a path heading east. Ten minutes later, I reached the top of a ridge overlooking Twin Elms Farm and saw that Daisy hadn’t moved from her spot—she was still watching me.

It had been nearly eight months since I’d left the Dillys, and I was a little homesick. I had heard snippets of news about my siblings through the cat channels (the cat-news grapevine) but I was eager to see them all, so I began to work my way east toward the Pennsylvania border.

Well, that was my plan, anyway.

Two days after saying goodbye to Billie and Daisy, I stepped onto a train platform from a boxcar that I had shared with a stinky-but-friendly hobo named Franklin. The town was Andover, Ohio, just across the border from my hometown of Linesville. There was no train between the two towns, but I figured that I could make it the rest of the way on paw once I’d rustled up a little something to eat and a comfortable spot to sleep for the night. I turned west toward the town square as a warm spring breeze rattled my whiskers, stirring happy memories in my gut.

Who knows what direction my life might have taken if I hadn’t caught a whiff of the intoxicating aroma of sardines at that very moment. Or if I hadn’t been hungry, and simply ignored it. But I did and I was, so I had no choice but to investigate further. Cats are, as everyone knows, naturally curious, and if we have one fault, it is that we often let our curiosity get the best of us. This may have been one of those times—I’ll let you decide.

I lifted my nose, which has never let me down, high in the air and inhaled deeply. There was no doubt about it. Somewhere close by—very close by—there were sardines, and plenty of them. I followed the trail to the back of a seedy joint called Norm’s Diner, on the corner of the square. A screen door, patched in several spots, was the only thing between me and the pot of gold at the end of a fishy-smelling rainbow. At first, I thought I was dreaming, or that my tired

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