Sugar Creek Gang Set Books 25-30 by Paul Hutchens

Author:Paul Hutchens [Hutchens, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8024-8204-4
Publisher: Moody Publishers
Published: 1998-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

3

You don’t have to wait long to decide what to do at a time like that—not when you have mischievous-minded, quick-thinking Poetry along with you, even if you are in the middle of a muddle in the middle of a melon patch, watching something the size of a long, very fat raccoon hurrying in jerky movements toward the shadows of the elderberry bushes.

If things hadn’t been so exciting, it would have been a good time to let my imagination put on wings and fly me around in my boy’s world awhile. A million stars were all over the sky, and fireflies were writing on the blackboard of the night and rubbing out all their greenish yellow marks as fast as they made them. And the crickets were singing, and the smell of sweet clover was enough to make you dizzy with just feeling fine.

But it was no time for dreaming. Instead, it was a time for acting—and quick!

“Come on!” Poetry whispered. “Let’s chase him!” and he started running and yelling, “Stop, thief! Stop!”

Away we both went, out across the garden, dodging melons as we went, leaping over them or swerving aside as we do when we are on a coon chase at night with Circus’s dad’s long-eared, long-nosed, long-voiced hounds leading the way. We were trying to catch up with that dark brown, long, low, very fat animal—something I had never seen around Sugar Creek before in all my life.

Then, all of a disappointing sudden, the brown whatever-it-was disappeared into the shadow of the elderberry bushes, and I heard a whirring noise in the lane on the other side of the fence. Then something came to noisy-motored life, a pair of headlights went on, and an old-sounding car went rattling down the lane, headed in the direction of the Sugar Creek School, which is at the end of the lane, where it meets the county line road.

Poetry’s big flashlight shot a straight white beam through the night. It landed ker-flash right on that old-looking car as it rattled past the iron pitcher pump and disappeared down the hill. A few seconds later, we heard it go rattlety-crash across the board floor of the branch bridge. The headlights lit up the lane as it sped up the hill on the other side in the direction of the schoolhouse.

What on earth!

My mind was still on the car and who might be in it when I heard Poetry say, “Look there! There’s our wild animal! He stopped right at the fence! Let’s get him!”

My mind came back to the long, brown, low, very fat something-or-other we had been chasing a minute before. My eyes got to it at about the same time Poetry’s flashlight beam socked it ker-wham-flash right in the middle of its fat side.

“What is it?” I exclaimed, looking about for a stick or a club to protect myself in case I had to.

My imagination had been yelling to me, It’s some kind of animal, different from anything you’ve ever seen!

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