The Tides of Avarice by John Dahlgren

Author:John Dahlgren
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9789814260749
Publisher: Editions Didier Millet Pte Ltd
Published: 2011-03-19T07:00:00+00:00

They stopped running when Sylvester tripped over a root and went flying, Mrs. Pickleberry shooting out of his arms to fly even farther. Fortunately, they both landed sprawling on soft, mushy ground.

“You all right, boss?” said Rasco hoarsely in Sylvester’s ear.

Sylvester swallowed a mouthful of mud and jungle-floor compost. The fall hadn’t hurt. Having just run flat-out carrying the heavy Mrs. Pickleberry for at least five hundred miles was what was hurting him. Well, maybe it hadn’t been quite five hundred miles. But a pretty hefty distance, anyway.

“I’ll be all right,” he managed to say. “I hope. See how Daphne is.”

“I’m all right,” said Mrs. Pickleberry from a few yards away. Sylvester was dimly aware of her sitting up in the moonlight. She cackled. “Wha’ever made you think I wun’t?”

“You were uncon—oh, never mind.”

“Me? Unconscious? Not me, I wasn’t, but why should I tire out me old legs when there was a young gemmun prepared to tire out his legs fer me?”

She’s lying, thought Sylvester dully, nestling his head on a lump of something squishy. She was out cold. The fall must have jolted her awake again. Why’s she lying about it? What’s she trying to hide?

“Mom?” said Viola in a worried tone of voice. Sylvester couldn’t immediately tell where she was, then heard her sit down heavily beside her mother. “Are you all right?”

“’Course I’m all right, you young nincompoop.”

“Mo–om.”

“No need to be bothering your head about an old baggins like me.”

She must be all right, thought Sylvester, shutting his eyes firmly. They’re bickering again.

“Don’t go to sleep on me,” said Rasco urgently. The mouse tugged at Sylvester’s ear – hard. “We’re not safe yet.”

“Um-hm.”

“Wake up!”

Sleep seemed an excellent idea to Sylvester. Sleep was an enormous puffy mattress, half the size of the world, and it smelled something like fresh straw, something like warm puppies. He’d just climbed aboard the edge of the mattress, and was now walking in long, bouncy, restful strides towards the center of it. With each new stride he took, his legs bent just a little more than they had the last time, and moved a little more slowly, so that very soon he was going to be crawling along on his tummy and then, perhaps, at last he’d be allowed to …

“Wake up!” Rasco repeated, much louder than the last time. “We can’t stop here. We got to get ourselves farther into the jungle than this.”

“Wazzat?”

The mouse called over to the other two. “Hey, you!”

Viola and Mrs. Pickleberry barely paused in their squabbling.

Rasco made a curious noise in his throat. After a moment, Sylvester realized the mouse was growling. The effect of the growl was to make the mattress Sylvester was bouncing along just a little firmer. When Rasco growled a second time the mattress became positively lumpy.

Sylvester shook his head. The mouse was right. However tempting it might be to rest, they were still in danger. If the chimpanzee and his neighbors were still searching for the intruders, they couldn’t be far away.

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