Loving Memories
From
Dog to Dog


By Howard W. Gabriel III



Illustrated by David J. House







Preface

Once upon a time there was a man named Mr. Peterson who had a dog as a companion for many years. Mr. Peterson and the dog grew very close together as anyone can imagine.
Both the dog and Mr. Peterson’s lives were very much enriched when Mr. Peterson married. He and Mrs. Peterson had a daughter named Helen. For many years this family of four enjoyed life together.
Towards the end of the dog’s long life, Mr. Peterson thought over all the years of his relationship with the dog. He wrote Ode to Old Dog as his expression of their times together.
When the old dog finally died the family was heartbroken. A year later the little girl, Helen, decided it was time to get another family dog. However, she faced seemingly insurmountable foes in her father and mother. A Promise is the story of Helen’s creative and persistent efforts.







Ode to Old Dog

A dog need be seven I am told,
To be considered as being old;

But on this we need come clean,
For you had no body awareness till thirteen;

And even then you ran countless laps,
Though now you prefer the longest of naps;

And now so many years have come between,
Since you, old chum, were only thirteen;

No one recalls when at that first stage,
You began to live with old age:

Or when I first sensed a new fear,
Come into my thoughts of many a year;

You were born among fine times,
When most drivers still stopped at stop signs;

When war and poverty still made folks quiver,
Was when you first romped in a river;

You’ve fought some foes with nary a fall,
But just think, you’ve now outlived them all;

Never my slave nor I your master,
No loving relationship ever grew faster;

You proudly recall fire and your rescue of me,
But come now, did you not also wish to flee?

Always those royal greetings at the door,
Even when I was little more than a bore;

Legs that once raced and did win,
Now seem content to walk and be thin;

Legs once jumping fences with ease,
Barely get going with more than a tease;

Birthdays past with many toys and tasty cakes,
Birthdays now with miserable uninvited body aches;

Years ago a fine Vet shook her head,
“Not many days before he be dead;”

She based this on her probabilities,
But you live on with you possibilities;

Yesteryear pestering the old dogs as a pup,
This year telling the pups how to grow up;

You still sneak the poor cat’s food,
On principle alone if in the mood;

But more and more you lay on the floor,
And for this I do often get sore;

Tis a problem not yours but mine,
So like you friend I need be kind;

You always gave me your very best,
Propelling yourself higher than all the rest;

With still pride and more love to share,
You ask not whether I still really care;

For whenever you hear me wail,
You realize I see you more frail;

But a relationship that reached such length,
Surely gathered mountains of strength;

To carry you and I without bending,
Making priceless, loving memories without ending.






A Promise

“What’s slowing you down, Nancy? We have much to do before the day is over,” said Nancy’s mother, Helen.
“Mom, is this a picture of you when you were a little girl?” asked Nancy.
“Yes,” sighed her mom.
“Who is the dog?” asked Nancy.
“Oh my, that was quite a dog!” responded her mom.
“Boy, he looks like a special dog. Look at him tug that big piece of wood,” said Nancy.
“There is quite a story behind his habit of tugging wood,” confessed her mom.
“Story?” asked Nancy. “Well, gee! Tell me about it, Mom.”
“No, we need to clean-up this attic,” replied her mother.
“Oh, come on Mom. I want to hear the story. It can’t take very long and then we can return to work,” pleaded Nancy.
“Okay, but let’s go get a couple of sandwiches first since it is lunchtime,” replied her mother.
But Nancy pestered her mother so much the two of them returned to the attic to eat their sandwiches while Mother told her story. Nancy just couldn’t wait to hear about the handsome dog.
Nancy’s mom stared long and hard at the picture as she began her story. “When this picture was taken, there were hard times in our family. Seems like the whole country had hard times then. Even with Dad working fulltime and Mom working part-time our family was barely making ends meet. However, I suppose in many ways we were better off than most families as we had plenty of good food and laughter in our house. I can still hear my mother pleading with me…………………
“Helen, I wish you would stop pestering about us getting another family dog. You know how much Roscoe meant to us. Why, he was with this family for 10 years and your dad had him for nearly 6 years before that,” Mom would state.
“Yes, Mom, but he died over a year ago and we really could use a dog now,” Helen cried.
“What for?” snapped Father as he came in from the cold outdoors. “It costs a lot of money to feed a dog!”
“But Dad, he could protect our property and us,” remarked Helen.
“Not much crime out in these parts and barking would just drive us nuts,” bellowed her stern father.
“Well, a dog could bring us a lot of love,” replied a determined Helen.
“We already have lots of love in our family,” replied her mother.
“Oh what will it take to get through to you.” whimpered Helen as she ran into her room crying.
While returning home from school the next day, Helen saw a stick she wanted to throw.
Zap! A dog caught the stick in mid air but immediately returned it to Helen. At first Helen was timid of the stranger and walked along the road. The dog wagged its tail and trotted along beside her.
"You’re rather large but very young, like an oversized puppy,” chuckled Helen. “I’ve never seen you around here. Maybe someone dumped you.”
Since the dog followed Helen home she decided to show her parents. As Helen went into the house the dog went down to a nearby creek. There he observed a man dragging some pieces of wood from the creek up the hill to the house.
When Helen and her parents later came outside, they spotted the dog dragging a big piece of wood down the hill to the creek.
“That dog has undone several hours of my work!” yelled Helen’s father.
“I’ll give you one week to find him a home. Promise?” asked her father.
“I promise,” sobbed Helen.
Later that day the dog was seen resting by a tree. All of a sudden a cat ran by and the dog gave chase. Just when the dog was closing in on the cat, the cat dodged a rack full of glass jars. Not the dog! SMASH!! The jars tumbled to the ground.
“Oh, no!” sobbed Helen. “I must clean this mess up before my folks see it.”
“Things will be better today,” thought Helen as she awoke the next morning. “I will keep the promise I made to my folks and also the promise I made to myself. I do wish I could think of a good name for the dog.”
“What is this on the floor?” asked Helen’s mother.
“It looks like muddy dog footprints,” whispered Helen.
“And what happened to the couch?” asked her angry father. “The dog has chewed a hole in the upholstery and gnawed on the wooden legs. Forget the week I promised—you must find the dog a home in three days or else.”
“Just three days,” repeated Helen to herself. “How can I keep both promises with only three days?”
Three days later Helen’s parents were discussing the problem.
“Helen’s three days are up tonight,” sighed her mother.
“Yes, she has gone off each afternoon with the dog in search of a home for it,” said her father.
“But what will we do if she doesn’t succeed today?” asked her worried mother. “It is easy to understand how Helen could get so attached to this dog. He is very friendly.”
“Yes,” said her father. “The dog really adores her and follows her everywhere. I am not sure what we do. We will simply have to wait and see how she did today.”
Suddenly they heard Helen yelling and ran to see what the noise was all about.
There before their eyes was the dog tugging wood up the hill from the creek.
“See what the dog can do for you,” called Helen.
Down the hill the dog raced only to return with another large piece of wood for the wood pile.
“Quick, Helen, go in and get our camera,” said her mother. “We’ll take a picture.”
When Helen returned with the camera, her father asked, “How did a dog ever learn to do such work?”
“Everyday I have worked with the dog trying to teach it to help you, Dad,” replied Helen.
“You mean you haven’t tried to keep your promise these past three days?” asked her mother.
“Yes, I did, Mom,” said Helen. “I promised you and Dad to find a home for the dog, but I promised myself that the dog’s home would be here with us. Now that he can gather wood for you, can’t we keep him, Dad? Please!” pleaded Helen.
“Well, the dog could be a real champ,” said her father.
“Champ! That’s a perfect name for our wonderful dog,” said Helen.
“Okay, I give in, if its all right with your mother, it is all right with me,” said Helen’s father.
“Yes,” said her mother. “Let’s take a picture of Helen and her Champ.”
And finally Helen closed the old photo album.
“Gee, Mom, that was a neat story,” said Nancy. “Wasn’t Champ also the dog who once saved your life from a house fire?’
“Yes,” replied Helen. “But that is another story for another day.”

The Mystery of Red Mountain

By
Howard W. Gabriel III


Chapter 1


This was it. How many guys were coming at him?
“Looks like my fullbacks aren’t going to help this time,” sighed Johnnie who was goalie on his soccer team.
One opponent got blocked by Johnnie’s teammate Matt; but that opponent simply passed to another opponent who kicked it into the net.
Johnnie’s outstretched fingertips had almost caught that corner shot. He now lay still on his side wishing it could have been different.
The referee’s whistle blew. The game was over! Johnnie’s team had lost 2-1 to the undefeated “Crushers.”
“We played them well, Johnnie,” said Matt Freeman. “I think we’ll still finish in the middle of the standings.”
“Sure,” replied Johnnie Lynch. “That’s what they call being mediocre.”
“What?” asked Matt.
“Oh nothing, Matt. I’m just disappointed,” said Johnnie as he finally got up off the ground.
Later, as Johnnie’s family drove home from the game, he saw much gloom on his parents’ faces.
“I’ve let them down again,” Johnnie thought to himself.” I bet just once they’d like to see me doing something spectacular or stupendous.”
It wasn’t that Johnnie wasn’t a talented twelve year old. He got B’s in most of his subjects but never any A’s. He made the starting line-up in sports but never did anything super.
“I wish I could do something that really made a difference,” he thought. But then again, if the baseball team needed a big hit Johnnie would ground out. Johnnie could leap several feet to catch the soccer ball, but fall short if it meant the game. In the church choir he was good, but nothing the choir would miss.
And just recently Johnnie had a crush on the nicest girl in school. However, Johnnie soon learned that, though girls liked him enough, he didn’t rank at the top of their charts.
There his parents were, looking ever so sad.
“I guess you wanted us to win, huh, Mom,” Johnnie finally broke the ice.
“Oh, you guys did fine,” she replied.
“We’re very proud of you, son,” said Mr. Lynch. “That’s the closest any team came to beating the ‘Crushers’ all year.”
But as they continued down the road the gloomy faces returned to each person.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Johnnie.
No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Johnnie’s dad spoke, “You might as well know. You’re getting old enough to understand.”
“What is it?” asked Johnnie as his heart seemed to beat faster.
“Fall is about over and winter beckons,” said Mr. Lynch. Johnnie broke into a grin and finally started laughing.
“You’re funny, Dad,” Johnnie noted. “We’ll survive winter somehow.”
“I wonder,” said his father. “The point being, that for two winters in a row, dangerous convicts have escaped the prison, apparently to their freedom. Rumor from the governor’s office has it, that if it happens again this winter, I’ll be fired.”
“But it isn’t your fault, Dad. You’re the warden, it’s true, but you and others have done everything to figure out how they escape,” said Johnnie.
“Oh, we’ve learned how they escape, Johnnie,” replied his father. “Each time the method of escape from the prison was different. That’s not the mystery son. The question is; how do they survive the rugged mountains and winter conditions. It’s now a political issue.”
“Political?” wondered Johnnie.
“Yes, the governor is embarrassed that these dangerous convicts can successfully escape and survive a test of courage thought impossible for twenty years.”
It was true. The prison was constructed in this mountain community and up until a few years ago no one had escaped successfully.
“There had been other escapes, before you became warden,” Johnnie pointed out.
“But all failures, son!” noted his father. “They were caught in vehicles or on foot along one of the few routes possible. And the only idiots who tried to flee in winter froze to death in the mountains. Eighteen years with no successful escapes and then I become warden. Now we have two winters in a row with successful attempts.”
“So, they blame you?” wondered Johnnie.
“Oh, not really,” said his mother. “But the governor thinks if he pressures or removes your father it will look like the governor is doing something about it.”
“That’s politics?” asked Johnnie.
“You got it!” said his father as they pulled into their driveway.
Later Johnnie and Matt got around to discussing the mystery of the escaped convicts.
“It’s a mystery how those two little girls over there can seem to have so much fun tossing about an old rotten shoe,” observed Matt.
“I wonder,” thought Johnnie, “If the same couldn’t be said of Red Mountain.”
“Huh? Have you lost your noodle, Johnnie,” laughed Matt.
“The thing is no one goes up Red Mountain like other mountains,” Johnnie pointed out.
“Of course not,” agreed Matt. “It’s a mile straight up and mostly a rock cliff.”
“Some people and children have died up there,” said Johnnie.
“Yes, it may officially be named Red Mountain for its red earth, but Danger Mountain is what local folks call it,” commented Matt.
The boys looked at the strange mountain peak called Red Mountain. It came straight up from the other side of Blue Lake. It was mostly rock covered occasionally by thick prickly bushes that made it tough to even crawl through. That’s if a person had the strength, endurance and skill to get up to the peak.
“You’d have to be crazy to climb up that thing,” said Matt.
“Or desperate,” Johnnie added with gleam in his eyes.
“Besides, the only place it leads to is to Rone Pond,” said Matt. “That’s just an old polluted lake.”
“Yeah, thanks to the waste products from the old mill,” said Johnnie with a frown. “But anyhow, you’re right. No one goes there anymore because the chemicals killed everything.”
“And the junk is still in the water,” said Matt with disgust.
It had happened years ago before people understood environmental pollution. But it still made the boys mad to think of such a waste.
“They have old pictures in the museum of how it once looked, years ago,” said Johnnie.
“I’ve seen them. It was beautiful,” said Matt.
“But the thing is, Matt, the convicts could be going that way when everyone looks to the known routes out of town.” said Johnnie.
“Johnnie, you’re nuts!” said Matt. “Convicts tried that route a few times and either died up there on the peaks or came back glad to be alive.”
“But they must be getting away somehow,” stated Johnnie.
Matt could not argue the point further.
“It is strange that several could escape two winters in a row,” agreed Matt.
That’s what amazed everyone. Johnnie was determined to do something about it.
“It’s a great opportunity to do something spectacular or something stupendous,” he spoke aloud.
“What is?” wondered Matt with some concern. He knew Johnnie could come up with some crazy ideas.
“Matt, my friend, you and I will go exploring and maybe solve this convict mystery,” stated Johnnie.
“But why? But how?’ stuttered Matt who was startled to say the least.
“Why?” glared Johnnie with anguish. “Because my dad will lose his job as warden if someone gets away this winter.”
“Oh,” whispered Matt, looking down at his shoelaces.
“And the how?” asked Matt.
“We’ll go up Red Mountain,” said Johnnie.
“In winter time?” gasped Matt shaking his head.
“Of course not. We go this weekend before winter snow arrives,” concluded Johnnie.
“Well, I don’t know,” muttered Matt with doubt all over his freckled face.
Johnnie studied that freckled face of his friend. He was jealous of his friend’s freckles for his own black skin apparently didn’t freckle easily.
“I don’t want to do it by myself but I guess I will if need be,” Johnnie threatened.
“It could be exciting,” confessed Matt.
“Very exciting,” agreed Johnnie.
“Too exciting?” asked Matt.
The boys both laughed.




Chapter 2


Saturday morning Johnnie left his house early to spend the day at Matt’s. Matt left his house early to spend the day at Johnnie’s. Or so they told their parents.
“They wouldn’t understand,” said Johnnie.
“And I’m not sure I do, either,” suggested Matt with a smile.
The boys had dressed as best they could. They had packs on their backs with some food and other supplies. Matt had even brought along his knife and sling shot. Johnnie brought his dad’s old binoculars.
Up they went. Up, up and then up some more. Their tired legs pressed on up the strange mountain.
“It must have been a freak event of nature,” said Matt who was puffing a lot.
“Yeah, it’s different than most mountains,” said Johnnie imitating one of his former teachers, Mr. Watts.
The day was a warm one. Yet as the boys went higher, they expected the temperature to get cooler, but they got warmer.
“We shouldn’t have worn coats. I’m hot,” said Johnnie.
“But we’ll need them later, maybe,” Matt suggested.
“I guess so. We forgot how hot a person gets when they workout physically,” said Johnnie.
“And this is tough exercise,” panted Matt in agreement. “Let’s rest awhile.”
“Okay, but let’s not drink any of our water yet,” said Johnnie.
They had each brought only small canteens of water.
After a few minutes they began their trek upwards again. Without a trail of any kind the task got more difficult the farther they traveled. Sometimes they would stumble on loose rocks or get skinned or scraped by tough brush. Sometimes they couldn’t get over rock ledges and would need to shift to a different route to progress further up the mountain.
Sometime later Matt asked if they were half way to the top.
“I don’t think so,” sighed Johnnie.
Awhile later the boys began to encounter swarms of hungry flying insects.
“Quick,” said Matt, “Let’s get the bug repellant and nets on.”
And then onward they traveled.
It was mid-afternoon when Matt suspected that they couldn’t make it home by dark even if they turned around immediately. But Johnnie figured otherwise.
It’s all down hill. We should go faster and need fewer stops,” Johnnie concluded.
“I’m not so sure,” replied Matt. “I heard it’s more dangerous going down since it’s tricky. People say you can get careless and fall or stumble badly.”
“Well anyhow, we haven’t seen anything like crooks,” laughed Johnnie. “I guess it was a crazy idea.”
“You have your share,” agreed Matt. “We really haven’t seen any garbage or other traces of people.”
“That’s nice, Matt. We’re going to do this again,” suggested Johnnie who looked over the ravine below through his binoculars.
“Blue Lake is so clean and beautiful,” sighed Johnnie. “Here, you look about in different directions. Maybe you’ll spot something.”
But though Matt scanned all directions, he saw nothing he could associate with criminals.
“This place is too pretty and too close to heaven for crooks,” said Matt with a laugh.
The boys were apparently nearing the top, having chosen to go a little higher before rushing home. They decided to rest near a large boulder.
After their rest, they both pushed off the boulder to get themselves going again. Johnnie was on one side and he shoved off with his right arm. Matt pushed off from the other side using his left arm. The boulder gave way and both boys fell on their faces.
It was a shock to both youngsters, but they turned to watch the boulder bounce downward. It hit a rut or something and changed its direction.
THUD!!! CRACK!!!
The boulder had struck another larger boulder that was mostly covered with foliage.
“Wow!” exclaimed Johnnie. “I’d hate to have been hit by that.”
“It actually moved that other boulder a little,” Matt pointed out.
“I wonder if they broke?” asked Johnnie.
“Sounded like it, or maybe that’s just rock hitting rock in the mountains,” suggested Matt.
“Let’s go look at them and then start for home,” said Johnnie.
“Fine by me,” agreed Matt who was most anxious to begin the journey home.
It took them awhile to reach the place. The first thing they noticed was a cool breeze.
“Who turned on the air conditioner,” wondered Matt.
“I feel it too,” said Johnnie. “It’s impossible, isn’t it?”
But as they peered about like two detectives they finally discovered the source.
“An opening!” shouted Matt.
“A cave?” wondered Johnnie.
Within the thick bushes and behind the large boulder was an opening.
“But it’s probably small,” suggested Matt. “It looks too small for bears.”
The boys looked at each other in fear and said nothing for sometime.
Johnnie and Matt finally reached for their pocket flashlights and looked inside.
“A cave isn’t this cold is it?” Matt shivered.
“I don’t see any end to it,” said Johnnie who began to speak into it.
And each time he spoke words, they were returned many times.
“An echo!” declared Matt.
“Look at these,” Johnnie indicated while pointing to a couple of nearby pieces of wood.
“They don’t belong here do they?” asked Matt.
“There are no trees that big around here. Someone has dragged them up here,” said Johnnie.
“To use as wedges to open up the entrance,” suggested Matt.
“The escaped convicts,” gasped Johnnie.
“But they have been escaping in winter. This place is as cold as a refrigerator now,” said Matt.
“They couldn’t live here in winter,” agreed Johnnie. “Let’s think things out,” said Matt. “Do we tell anyone what we have found?”
“No , not now,” replied Johnnie. “I think we’d be laughed at.”
“I know,” beamed Matt. “We could come back another time with big flashlights and better supplies.”
“Hey, you’re starting to get my ideas before I do,” laughed Johnnie.
And the boys began their long journey down the mountain, hoping to make it before dark.


Chapter 3


. But they did not make it home before dark. They did not enjoy being out at dark with only small flashlights. They got very thirsty.
. When they reached their homes, the boys faced the wrath of their parents for their folly, but kept their discovery a secret.
The following Saturday they began their return trip to Red Mountain.
“I sure hope we can find it,” said Johnnie who had thought of leaving some markings.
But as the day wore on and the boys neared the top, it seemed hopeless.
“Everything looks the same around here. I never realized how many boulders existed up here and all covered by bushes,” said Johnnie.
“They are everywhere,” agreed Matt.
The boys thought they were at the right altitude but there was a lot of ground to cover for two boys.
“I don’t want to split up for any reason,” stated Matt.
“No way,” agreed Johnnie.
“Let’s stay here awhile,” suggested Matt. “one of us can scan with the binoculars while the other reads the book.”
The book was about caves and caverns. Matt wanted to look through it first. After all, he had checked it out of the library. So, Johnnie scanned everywhere.
After awhile Matt put down the book and said, “This may be important.”
“What?” asked Johnnie.
“It says here that large caves or caverns have the same cool temperature of 55 or 60 degrees year round,” said Matt.
“So…” interjected Johnnie, “If 55 or 60 degrees seems cold in summer, it would be pretty warm when the winter is below zero.”
“Right,” said Matt.
The boys later reached the Rone Pond side of the mountain. Matt and Johnnie took turns observing this other side of Red Mountain through the binoculars.
“The pond looks dead; it really is the size of a lake,” observed Matt.
“The old mill buildings were burned down years ago, I understand,” said Johnnie as he looked at the other large mountain peaks that surrounded the polluted lake. “Convicts in winter would face more rugged, freezing mountains to die on if they got this far.”
“But the escapes have all occurred early or midwinter,” Matt stressed. “Don’t you need lots of food to last that long?’
“Sure, but don’t animals sometimes live in caverns?” wondered Johnnie.
“Perhaps,” replied Matt. “Not many plant forms of life are found usually, but some animals and insects are possible. But it says here that the animals don’t live deep into the caverns, just a little from the opening holes.”
“Anyhow, it just wouldn’t work for several men, two winters in a row,” decided Johnnie who once again began looking into his binoculars.
“Look at this, Matt,” whispered Johnnie, “A man has just emerged from the pond.”
“Wh…what?” Matt stuttered as he grabbed the binoculars. “No, I can’t see anyone.”
“More this way,” directed Johnnie, steering Matt a little.
“There, got him,” exclaimed Matt. “Hey, he’s gone back under water!”
“Well,” laughed Johnnie, “He’ll be back up shortly as he didn’t have any scuba gear on.”
“That’s right,” agreed Matt.
But the man did not emerge again.
After ten minutes or so Matt said, “This is incredible, Johnnie.”
“The only thing possible is that he’s breathing through some tube like object or plant that we can’t see,” said Johnnie.
“But why?” asked Matt. “He didn’t act like he suspected anyone watching him.”
About an hour later the boys observed another man emerge out of the depths of the water. This guy stayed up awhile longer but then went under.
About an hour later a man’s head emerged.
“They seem to come up every hour,” noted Johnnie.
“As if they were on a look out?” wondered Matt aloud.
“But they can’t very well be hiding out at the bottom of a polluted lake, can they?” asked Johnnie in disbelief.
“We need to begin our return home,” stressed Matt.
“Sure, and we need to think and plan on what to do next,” said Johnnie as they headed back down the mountain.
The next Saturday the boys couldn’t get out of going places with their families. Time was of essence now as the first big winter storm could arrive within days. Once that happened, the boys dared not climb the mountain until spring or summer. And that could be too late for Johnnie’s dad, if anymore convicts escaped.
“We’ll never find that hole again,” said Johnnie as they planned their return to the mountain. “But we can reach that pond on the other side of Red Mountain.”
“But we’ll have to stay over night,” proclaimed Matt.
“Right. I’ll be staying over at your place and you at mine,” said Johnnie with one of his most unusual smiles ever.
On that fateful Saturday morning they began their third trip up the mountain.
“I wish we could go around Red Mountain rather than up and down it to reach Rone Pond,” sighed Johnnie. “It’s really silly, isn’t it?”
“A gigantic rock slide closed forever the old dirt road that led to the mill,’ said Matt. “And it happened just a few years after the mill was shutdown.”
“Rone Pond is a lake that no one cares for anymore,” said Johnnie.
“It’s like nature closed it off to people after people killed it,” suggested Matt.
“It’s really neat, having been surrounded completely by various mountain peaks,” added Johnnie. “With rain do you think it’ll ever get clean again?”
“I doubt it,” said Matt. “But I suppose it’s possible. What do they call it when chemicals go down into the ground?”
“Absorption, seepage, or something like that,” replied Johnnie. “Yeah,” said Matt. “Something like that may make a difference in time.”
After several hours climbing and stumbling the boys took one of their rests.
“What’s that look for?” asked Johnnie.
Matt began to laugh.
“I was wondering if we’re fools,” said Matt.
“A fool is one who acts silly. Isn’t that so?” asked Johnnie.
“Yes,” replied Matt with some more chuckles. “Now here we are going up a mountain. You carry a large underwater camera and I carry a small underwater spear gun.”
Johnnie laughed and said, “I suppose we should put on our underwater face masks.”
“But really, I hope my father doesn’t miss any of his gear,” Matt said with concern.
“He only uses it in the summer, right?’ Johnnie noted soothingly.
“Mostly,” agreed Matt. “But we better not damage anything. And Johnnie, that film will cost a lot to develop.”
“Can you imagine us trying to carry air tanks up and down this mountain and back again,” laughed Matt.
“I couldn’t carry heavy air tanks very far on flat land,” noted Johnnie.
“But we shouldn’t need them,” suggested Matt, not so sure.
“No, we can hold our breath long enough,” agreed Johnnie.
The boys had tested that out. Johnnie was good for two minutes even and Matt went twenty seconds more, after several tries.
“But we don’t really know how deep they go,” stated Matt in wonder.
“We don’t know much,” sighed Johnnie.
“This spear gun would hurt a man badly, Johnnie,” said Matt.
“We’d use it only for protection, Matt,” Johnnie pointed out. “If these guys are real, they are probably dangerous.”
Matt stopped suddenly.
Johnnie stopped also and looked at his startled friend.
“We are fools, Johnnie. These guys we saw were probably Fish & Game researchers,” exclaimed Matt.
“I think they…, were…, maybe you’re right,” said Johnnie with disappointment. “But if that’s true they weren’t dressed right,” he added.
“But they weren’t wearing prison shirts,” said Matt.
“No, it didn’t seem like it,” agreed Johnnie. “But it’s tough to see that far away, even with glasses.”
“Of course if they’re not convicts we haven’t much to fear,” suggested Matt who seemed overjoyed at the thought.
“And I couldn’t live another day not knowing for sure, could you?” Johnnie asked Matt hoping for agreement.
“I guess I couldn’t at that,” said Matt.
But as they traveled on, they began to feel the added weight of something they did not pack along for the trip. Fear has a way of growing like a weed inside a person. Unless its roots are totally removed, it will continue to grow no matter how often it is cut down.
The boys chopped away at their fear by talking of other matters and by kidding with each other. Though they cut away; the fear always grew back. And when later in the day they approached Rone Pond, the fear they carried was dreadful and awesome.
From time to time Johnnie would look at Matt or Matt would glance at Johnnie. Because of the physical exercise strain, it wasn’t so easy to “see” each other’s worried mind. But each youngster knew his own tension and didn’t want to admit it to the other.
“We aren’t here to try and take them back if they’re the crooks. We just need some pictures for my dad’s people,” suggested Johnnie to reassure at least himself, if not also his friend Matt.
“Sure, sure,” muttered Matt who was nevertheless smart enough to see the risks, no matter why they were there.
“Winter is about here, Matt,” said Johnnie trying to change the subject. “Look at the clouds coming in.”
“Yeah, no bugs, at least,” replied Matt. “You don’t suppose there’s snow in them, do you?”
“It could be,” sighed Johnnie. “We keep forgetting that Christmas is around the corner.”
“I’m not forgetting,” snorted Matt in reply.
But they spoke softly and were now crawling along the ground.
“Let’s start using hand signals from now…” Johnnie started to say.
Suddenly a man’s head emerged from the water. After he looked around, he went back under.


Chapter 4


“You see how he takes a big hold of breath before going under,” whispered Johnnie. “It can’t be very far to wherever he goes.”
“They no longer come up hourly for looks,” noted Matt. “I bet that water is colder now.”
The boys looked over to where the base of the mountain met the edge of the polluted lake.
“They come up about twenty yards from the base of the mountain there,” Johnnie observed.
The mountain went straight down into the water at that point. There was no beach, only a shear rock mountain wall that touched the water.
“It’s sort of obvious now,” thought Johnnie aloud.
Matt agreed, “We’ve heard about openings like that.”
“Underwater caves, is that the name?” wondered Johnnie.
“I suppose it’ll do for now,” smiled Matt.
By their earlier planning, each youngster now knew what to do. Johnnie made sure the camera was working and Matt got the spear gun ready.
“Hold it right there, boys!”
The blood seemed to rush away from each boy as they turned slowly to see a large, ugly, mean man with a pistol pointing at them. He had his finger on the trigger.
“Sit down and wait,” he ordered.
The boys sat down immediately like little defenseless puppies that had been caught doing something bad. They both lost any sense of time. Neither youngster was aware of minutes or hours.
The temperature was cold. After awhile they both came to realize that they were no longer warm from their hiking up and down the mountain. Even with their coats, it was getting colder. But they hadn’t thought about this.
Rather, Johnnie kept thinking about his pal, Matt. “I shouldn’t have gotten him into this mess. It didn’t mean anything to him. Now what’s going to happen to him because of me?”
But Matt was looking at things from a different angle. “I never thought I’d wish I was home doing my homework,” Matt thought to himself.
Matt then gave a special look toward Johnnie as if to say, “It was worth it.”
Johnnie figured Matt was making a special effort to be brave. To himself the situation seemed similar to an insect or animal being caught in a trap.
“I always wondered what it would feel like to be a captured animal,” thought Johnnie. “”But I never wanted to know bad enough to take their place!”
Throughout all this time the gunman only sneered and shook his gun. He was waiting for something.
Suddenly a head emerged from the depths of the water.
“Jim, over here!” yelled the gunman to the man in the water.
“What the blazes?” asked the man who began swimming towards them on the shore.
“I spotted them from my lookout long ago as they walked down the mountain,” the gunman explained.
“We forgot about that possibility,” thought Johnnie to himself. The boys had been only concerned with the water as they descended.
The other man was dressed in a wetsuit like divers wear. But he wasn’t any Fish & Game warden.
“Looking for trouble, huh, guys. Well, you’re in luck,” the scuba man laughed menacingly.
“What should I do with them, Jim,” the gunman asked with anticipation. “Should I shoot’em here or drown’em maybe.”
“Naw, it’s not our concern. We’ve got to go to Frankie. He’s the boss,” sighed Jim. “Boys, can you hold your breath and swim underwater a few minutes?”
The boys shook their heads up and down to say yes.
“You’ll be cold and wet. The water’s terrible. But if you don’t go the right direction the gunman will plug you. Right, gunman?” Jim asked the gunman.
“I’d love to,” replied the gunman.
“So boys, we’re going to ‘the man’, Mr. Frankie, to you punks,” said Jim who seemed to relish the thought. “You got to grab your breath and follow me over towards the rock wall. Underneath there is an opening. Once we get underneath we’ll go back up to air. It’s a large cave. The rock wall base of this mountain goes out like a shelf or something…”
Then Jim stopped his explanation as if to say, “What difference will it make anyway to you guys.”
That was, at least, the impression that poor Johnnie and Matt got.
But then Jim got some compassion back.
“We’ll start as close as possible to the underwater shelf. Boys, leave your coats and equipment here. Remember, we have to go down quite a ways, then in a few yards towards the mountain, and then up for air. Got it?” Jim asked as if he was the instructor of a scuba diving school.
But unfortunately the boys jumped into the water without the benefit of a scuba wet suit. Never once did either boy think of doing anything other than, following Jim to the hidden cave and to air. The option was apparently death by the gunman’s bullet or perhaps drowning.
Down, down they all traveled. The water was dirty and it was difficult to see your way. At least their face masks protected the eyes from irritants in the polluted lake water.
The boys traveled next to each other and very near Jim. Johnnie and Matt thought their lungs would burst, but they made it. Yet, only for a moment did the rise to air give them any happiness. The cave like dwelling was teeming with men—all crooks no less!
Everywhere the boys looked, there were boxes and bags of things.
“Another hour and we’ll be done for the day,” said a small, older man to the group.
“Okay, Frankie,” replied one of the men. “Hey! What’s with the kids, Jim?”
The man called Jim didn’t seem comfortable with the situation.
“Frankie, those two brats spotted on the mountain did come back,” he finally muttered softly.
“Too bad, boys,” sighed the little man called Frankie. “This was the last day. It’s the greatest set up ever and we didn’t want to kill anyone, but…”
“There’s no choice, I suppose?” Jim asked as if he didn’t want to kill the two boys.
The little man thought about it for awhile. He was very business like and seemed intelligent.
“No, I think not, Jim,” said Frankie. “We’ll make it painless for them, though.”
Matt glanced slowly towards Johnnie and the two made eye contact.
“Poison!” thought both boys to themselves with a look of horror developing on their faces.


Chapter 5

“Let’s finish up quickly now,” Frankie ordered the men. Each began carrying something—sometimes two worked together with large containers.
“The mountain has caverns everywhere,” said Johnnie who suddenly realized what a wonderful hiding place it could be.
“Yeah, that’s right kid,” said Frankie. “You might as well know the story; it will be your last story. Some of my friends discovered an opening near the peak a few years ago.”
“The escaped convicts,” said Matt.
“Right again,” laughed Frankie. “They thought they were going to die freezing on the mountain but discovered an opening. At first they figured it was a small cave, but then discovered it was endless. They figured the cops and guard would also find the opening that day. It had been so small; the three of them practically scraped their fingers and hands away, digging it larger. But anyhow, they had flashlights and they kept going downward. Their food ran out and one of them died. But two made it to here and discovered this underwater opening to the lake.”
“They must have been tough men,” suggested Johnnie.
“And smart too,” noted Matt.
“Yes, to both of you,” agreed Frankie. “But I suspect lady luck was most generous. Anyhow, they managed to get a few others out of prison by this route later. But until I got involved the place wasn’t really being used. It was I who thought of this place as a hideout for stolen goods and money. We’ve put millions of dollars of stolen money, gold, silver, artwork, and just about everything else into this mountain,” boasted Frankie.
“But from where?” wondered Johnnie. “I mean how do you get anything here. I see you wrap everything to protect it from water and the weather, but how do you get it here.”
“Oh that too was my little gem,” sighed Frankie who was teeming with pride at the thought of all his recent accomplishments. I had us make a crude tunnel where the old mill road was. It wasn’t covered only with rock, you know, that’s just what everyone thinks when they think rock slide. But, really it’s a lot of soil, trees and the like that buried the entire area. The side of a mountain gave way really. So I had the boys dig a large crude tunnel that zigzags around all the rock and other tough barriers. We couldn’t use blasting powder, heavy machinery or anything that would attract attention. We’ve always worked at night without lights or fire and during the day in the caverns.
“That seems incredible!” exclaimed Matt.
“Indeed it is,” remarked Jim, who also was proud of the project. “You can achieve just about anything in life if you put your mind and body to hard use.”
“Sounds like my coach,” thought Johnnie to himself.
“But we can’t stretch our luck with the upper opening,” said Frankie. “They’ll be no further prison breaks using that route. Say Jim, that reminds me, we need to close the opening with the sticks and remove them from the mountain.”
“Right, I’ll remember,” said Jim who looked again at the boys who were shivering in their wet clothes.
“Should it be here?” he asked Frankie
“We’ll have to take them back to the cabins,” replied Frankie.
“They’ve got the poison there,” both boys thought to themselves.
Later, as they all crawled inside the crude tunnel, Johnnie wished he and Matt had a wet suit on like the others.
“But really, it doesn’t much matter if we do get sick,” he sighed.
“The tunnel is almost large enough to walk in, especially bent over and if you were short like Johnnie and me,” thought Matt who wished his mother could see how dirty he was. “She always thinks I’m having more fun when I get dirty.”
Johnnie heard Matt begin to cry a little.
“These guys think they’re so smart and clever, but they’re no good. They’ve wasted their lives doing bad things to others,” he decided with mounting anger. “They won’t kill Matt and me without a contest!”
It wasn’t until later that Johnnie could plan on their get-away. They were finally tied-up in a large cabin room.
“At least we’re together, Johnnie,” Matt whispered. “And I feel better with the blankets over us.”
“Sure, they’re nice folks to cover us with blankets after giving us poisoned hot chocolate,” Johnnie noted with much disgust.
“Do you really think it was poisoned?” wondered Matt.
“You know it had to be,” snorted Johnnie.
“Do you think anyone will come back to night to check if we’re dead?” asked Matt.
“Probably, but they may wait until morning,” suggested Johnnie hopefully. “Anyhow, let’s pretend we’re asleep and still if they do enter the room. Meanwhile, I bet if we work at it hard and long one of us will get these old ropes loose.”
“Yeah, mine seems rotten,” Matt noted. “I guess it was just to keep us still until the poison took over.”
But the poison chocolate had been spilled on the boys’ dirty, muddy, wet pants when no adults were looking.
A few hours later the door knob began to move. The boys feigned deathly stillness. The door opened for a few moments as someone stepped in.
“I wonder if they’ll shoot or knife us just to make sure?” thought Johnnie to himself.
Whoever entered, eventually, departed from the room. About an hour later Johnnie got his wrists free of the rope.
As there was nothing for cutting, the boys had to get Matt loose the same way—pulling and stretching the rope. Finally Matt was also free. His wrists hurt as much as Johnnie’s, but it seemed the least of their concerns.
They crawled up and through a window in the room to the outdoors, exchanging darkness without hope, for darkness with little hope. After awhile the boys reached the tunnel and began the long crawl to the lake.



Chapter 6



“We’ll get to the other side and retrieve our coats; then go towards the side opposite Red Mountain Lake,” Johnnie suggested to Matt, who had just bumped his head at a sharp turn in the crude tunnel.
“Why that side?” asked Matt.
“That’s just it. When they discover us gone, it will be the last side of the lake they’d figure we’d go,” concluded Johnnie. “We’ll walk along the water’s edge of the lake.”
When they reached the area where the gunman had caught them, they soon discovered their coats.
“Let’s take these wet, muddy shirts off and just wear our coats,” suggested Matt.
“Right, but we’ll have to carry our shirts,” said Johnnie…
“I guess they took the other stuff,” observed Matt.
“Yeah, we’re going to be like foxes in a fox hunt in the morning,” said Johnnie.
“They were drinking so much to celebrate,” explained Matt. “They’ll get so drunk that they will not get up until late in the morning.”
“We better hope so, Matt,” said Johnnie. “I only wish we could go up that mountain in the darkness.
But neither dared to think of that seriously, as one slip and you could fall to your death or be seriously injured. It was tough enough in daylight.
The dry coats were an improvement but they still had wet feet and pants as they walked towards the other side of the lake.
“This polluted lake is sure quiet compared with a clean one,” noted Matt. “In a way it would be trickier for us if we had to watch out for wildlife.”
“Maybe, but as I said before, I feel we are now foxes being hunted,” shrugged Johnnie.
By the earliest signs of morning’s dawn the boys were on the other side of the lake and busy heading up one of the other mountain peaks that surrounded Rone Pond.
“What are we going to do, anyhow?” wondered Matt. “Go up and over this mountain?”
“No, after a ways higher let’s stop and keep a watch out for any signs of them,” suggested Johnnie.
“But we can’t just wait to be caught!” exclaimed Matt with disgust.
“Of course not, but we need some time,” said Johnnie.
“Oh, I see,” said Matt. “You think we’ll be rescued in time like in the movies or television programs. Well, pal, that’s all make believe and this is real. Besides, I’m really getting sick. I feel chills now and have hot and cold spells.”
“I’m sorry, Matt. I feel bad too,” said Johnnie who was coughing now and then, himself. “I know what you mean about make believe, but this is different.”
“That’s my whole point, Johnnie,” snorted Matt who had decided Johnnie must be losing touch with reality.
“But what’s the difference anyhow,” thought Matt to himself. “We’re probably goners one way or the other.”
Was it the rising sun that Matt last recalled before falling asleep? He had been disgusted with Johnnie’s attitude and was thinking of ways they could defend themselves when the crooks finally arrived. There would be no good people just in the nick of time. Luck like that was not of this world. Matt had understood the reality of their situation, but poor Johnnie had been through too much.
“It’s late afternoon,” said Matt who now noticed Johnnie was sleeping restlessly nearby. “He’s probably having nightmares.”
Just then Matt heard a voice or voices from afar. “What direction?” he asked himself. “But how can I tell? It is very tricky to tell where sound comes from when you’re surrounded by mountains and a lake.”
He stopped talking to himself to listen for more sounds. There were none for awhile. Then a few more came to Matt’s ear. He looked about in every direction but saw no movement.
“I’d better wake Johnnie up,” Matt decided.
“Johnnie!” Matt said while nudging his sleeping pal rather rudely.
“What?” gawked Johnnie who didn’t know where he was.
“Quiet,” said Matt. “The crooks are coming for us. We must keep alert.”
Johnnie’s eyes opened bright and he whispered. “The police are here, Matt. It’s late afternoon or later.”
“It’s later than you think, Johnnie,” snorted Matt. “I’ve heard some voices, but I haven’t seen any police badges. Now come to your senses. How shall we defend ourselves? Now I guess we could just start going up this mountain, moving as low to the ground as possible and staying near the brush. Or, we can stay here like cornered rabbits hoping they miss us. I guess it’s possible, but I don’t like it…”
As Matt rambled on with their options, Johnnie realized that Matt did not understand their situation.
“Matt, you don’t understand. We must go looking for those voices, not hide from them,” Johnnie pointed out. “I wish we had binoculars, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll be going down Red Mountain towards Rone Pond just like we did.”
With that Johnnie began walking bent over along the lake and back towards the other side of the lake—exactly where they had been caught!
“He’s gone crazy,” sighed Matt who decided then and there not to follow Johnnie towards death.
“Maybe I’ll have a chance if I just stay here,” thought Matt to himself. “I’m too weak to go up the mountain anyhow. Johnnie would never lead them to me no matter what. Once he realizes it’s them, he’ll come to his senses. Oh God, Johnnie, I’ll miss you!”
After Matt began his prayers, he lost all his senses to a small bright light ahead somewhere. He felt at peace and secure. Why did the small light provide him comfort? Perhaps it was Matt’s association of a bright light and the creator. Something he studied, perhaps.
But the light suddenly magnified itself, to blind Matt and robbed him of his new found peace. “Here, over here,” a man’s bold voice yelled.
The search light was indeed so bright a light that Matt could not see.
“Johnnie!” Matt declared loudly with anguish “How could you? How could you lead them to your friend?”
Just them Johnnie was near Matt. Johnnie’s black face was easy for Matt to see in the light and the thought gave Matt some strange humor.
“Nothing makes sense anymore,” he half heartedly laughed.
“I had to bring them, Matt. I’d never let you down,” said Johnnie.
“Oh, is that so,” yelled Matt. “Well, I tell you nothing, but nothing makes any sense.”
“Doctor, I think Matt needs you more than I do,” suggested Johnnie who felt sorry for his friend’s condition.
“Doctor?” wondered Matt. “I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is to stick out my tongue at the crooks.”
“Crooks? Matt, this is Doctor Willouby, the prison physician. He’s part of the rescue team I told you about,” stated Johnnie.
“What? But this can’t be. This wasn’t a movie, it was real,” exclaimed Matt in amazement. “And you and I could be called fools.”
“Oh, I suppose we could be called fools, Matt, but I’m no idiot. I left a note with a friend of mine to be delivered to my dad in the event we did not reach home by noon today. It explained everything we knew or suspected at the time.”
Matt was then ordered to take something from the doctor and soon fell asleep. Because of darkness the search party stayed overnight on alert. The boys were given medicine and dry clothes with blanket covers. Matt was changed while he slept.
The next morning the boys were still sick, but somewhat better. They pointed to the base of the mountain on the lake’s edge and the police confirmed the hideout of stolen goods. The boys then directed them to the crude crooked tunnel.
Several armed policemen went after the cabin used last by the crooks. The boys were helped by stretchers up Red Mountain. At some point they were lifted up to helicopters.
“If I live through this, I’m going to become more than a mediocre person, Matt,” promised Johnnie.
“I’m with you,” Matt yelled back.
Later in the week Johnnie and Matt reflected upon what had happened to them.
“First the police, then the reporters, then the radio interview and tomorrow we’ll be on television,” Johnnie noted. “It’s Christmas season and I just want to be with my mom and dad.”
“But, Johnnie, you always wanted to do something really important. I think you said that it should be spectacular or stupendous,” laughed Matt. “You’ve done it and then some. They say this is the biggest story going around for some time.”
“Oh, we’re heroes all right, but that’s not what I mean. I’m proud of what we tried to do for my father. And we ended up accomplishing lots more along the way. But I’m still Johnnie Lynch, aren’t I?” said Johnnie.
“You don’t feel comfortable with all the attention,” suggested Matt who understood only too well.
“No I don’t. But I guess somehow I did want to be a hero of sorts before,” Johnnie confessed.
“We can’t turn back the events of time and become un-heroes,” noted Matt.
“We could do something really bad,” suggested Johnnie with gleam in his eyes.
“Oh Johnnie, there’s one of those crazy ideas of yours,” laughed Matt. “You’re still the same person, hero or no hero.”
And Johnnie could only smile widely in response.

Bandit the Attack Cat

By Howard W. Gabriel III

One morning as I was loading my car for work, suddenly, out of nowhere, a large pit bull appeared at my feet. It seemed friendly enough, so I asked, “Where do you live?”

Then the dog put its nose upward. “The cat!” I shouted as Bandit, my blue eyed Himalayan, is usually under my car before I start it.

As the dog sniffed, it headed towards the front of the car. Bandit started making strange loud sounds intended to scare the pit bull away.

I grabbed the dog’s choke chain collar and tried to steer it away. This didn’t work well as the dog did not like being choked. One time the collar came off! I was able to put it back on the dog’s neck. Another time one of my fingers got tangled in the choke chain collar. Anyhow, I kept taking the dog from the front of the car to the back of the car. This went on and on forever… Finally, I held the dog with one hand and opened the garage door with the other. As I pulled the dog away from the car, I yelled for the cat to run into the garage.

There was no sign of Bandit moving from underneath the car. The dog dragged me toward the car and I pulled it back. Sometimes there was a growl. On and on this continued. There was no one around to help. I finally started to yell the cat’s name—insisting that she help out. I shouted, “Bandit, you must help me.”

Then it happened. Bandit crawled from beneath the left front tire fender and was looking at us with her hair straight up. Her four legs were somehow bowed.

She had a twisted face and looked like a bulldog. Then she began heading toward the dog like some kind of lurid robot. Her two left legs went up high at the same time. When they came down the right ones went up together. She was telling the dog in her way that it was “High Noon!” Slowly she marched to the dog. I was spellbound.

Finally I spoke, “Bandit, that’s not what I meant by help. Go to the garage.”
She stopped and stood her ground for a few minutes as I continued to plead with her while I struggled with the dog. She then backed up ever so slowly with her strange two legged piston motion.

Whew! It was over. I wasn’t sure where she had gone, but the dog had a change of mind and trotted down the street, perhaps in search of more adventure.

I will always remember that morning event.

A New Home for Shivers

Howard W. Gabriel III

Illustrated by David House

On one dreary, rainy, windy day two children struggled down a driveway, carrying a large hamster cage.

"Be careful where you are stepping!" yelled the girl to the boy.

"Keep the cage covered!" the boy snapped to his sister.

Despite their quarrel, the did manage to stuff the cage into the back seat of the family car.

Yet, as they returned to the house, a charming little creature was dwarfed among the yard's high, green grass.

"What has happened to me?" pondered Shivers, the family's pet hamster.

How could he know that the children's uneven movements had jarred a lid off his cage? He had tumbled out into the cold wet grass, and immediately awoke from his usually peaceful daytime sleep.

Now Shivers began running, in panic, but in the wrong direction! Rather than going towards the family's house he reached the sidewalk. As he paused to examine this strange new space, his keen sense of smell told him someone new was nearby--someone he did not know.

Quickly, to avoid being squashed by a bicycling newspaper girl, the hamster leaped off the sidewalk curb and fell to the unknown below.

"Eeeeeeee!" squealed Shivers. "I am falling into rushing gutter water and I can not swim."

Closing his eyes to prepare for hitting the water, he suddenly hit something solid and everything began to spin.

Annoyed by having something land on his back, Horace poked his head out of his shell for a good look.

As Shivers began to slide off, he grabbed Horace's long neck. The two of them struggled with each other in the water, all the while floating rapidly down the gutter in the swift current.

All of a sudden the water went straight down the drainage hole while the struggling, bewildered pair shot right past the hole. Horace landed upside down on his back, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to get back on his feet.

"I will help you," Shivers told him and he promptly wedged his flexible body between the turtle and the curb.

That did it!

The turtle flopped over and landed back on his feet.

Putting on his large rimmed glasses, Horace said sternly, "I do thank you, but I would not have needed any help at all if you had not jumped on my back and scared me so much! Furthermore, a stormy, rainy day is no time for a hamster to be outside. You should go home!"

"But I am lost and do not know how to return home," sobbed Shivers.

"Then I, Horace Turtle, shall find your house for you," replied the turtle.

However, when they reached the house that Shivers recognized as home they found it empty.

"Your family has moved and left without you," Horace told poor Shivers, and he added "You must now find another home on your own!"

Having no more time for this small fry, Horace left to play in his favorite sandbox, and Shivers, who had nowhere else to go, followed Horace from a distance, crying all the way.

As he climbed into the sandbox, Horace knocked a large sandpail over, and it landed right on top of him, trapping him inside.

"Ugh!" grunted Horace. "I am really in trouble this time."

Thinking Horace had gone into the pail on purpose to seek shelter from the rain, Shivers climbed on top of the pail. Determined more than ever to be with the only friend he now had in the world, he chewed and chewed until he finally made a hole big enough for him to squeeze inside.

"How did you get in here?" wondered Horace out loud.

Before Shivers could reply, Horace spotted the tiny hole and asked, "Can you make it big enough for me?"

After Shivers had chewed for a long time the hole was big enough for the much larger Horace to crawl through. He was free again. This time the turtle was very grateful.

Proudly he announced to Shivers, "It was not your fault that I was stuck in that pail, but you helped me none the less. You are indeed a good friend. I shall take you to live at my house!"

When they finally reached Horace's house, the sun was coming out once more and Shivers spotted two familiar figures. The two children playing at the house next door to Horace's were his children! They ones he had lost way back at the car!

His family had moved next door to Horace's house!

I really am home after all!" said the happy Shivers.

A River Adventure
By Howard W. Gabriel III

I must have been about 14 at the time. My dad and I were a couple of happy fellows, about to spend the morning of his first vacation day floating down the Alexander Valley River on rubber rats. Just the two of us!
We had paid attention to careful planning. My grandmother let us out of her car at 7:55 a.m. and five minutes later we were in the morning water. Dad recalled from his childhood days that from this particular starting point it was about 8 miles to the town of Santa Rosa. My grandmother was to pick us up at the outskirts of town a 1:00 p.m., even though we knew we would be there by noon.
After an hour or so my dad discovered that our little supply bag had somehow unhooked—lost was our suntan lotion. Oh well, the temperature never got more than 75-80 degrees that time of the year. Yet, as the river’s forested sides came and left the hotter it seemed. It made 100+ that day.
After 3 hours or so Dad and I asked some folks how far from town we were and what time it was. We were getting so hungry—our sandwich bag which was wrapped in waterproof material had become soggy. Anyhow, the people spoke from high above the river. “Eight miles!” We were astounded. Had we simply traveled in circles? The scenery did seem to repeat itself.
We then decided to hurry our paces, but it was at this point that the current seemed to have disappeared. We raced one another for what seemed to be hours. Legs and arms weighed too much so we had to stop now and then.
My dad was red; he had not worn anything but a small bathing suit. I had worn a t-shirt and long cut-offs.
I think the only way we kept going (whatever happened to the rushing current?) was by getting mad at each other.
At 5:00 p.m. we made it to the right spot. My grandmother was in a panic. She was about to call the police.
The river had actually stretched and curved 24 miles—16 more than via the road.
Dad suffered second and third degree burns all over his body. He went through dozens of layers of skin, day after day. I can still see my father as he was the remainder of his vacation lumbering along streets, in and out of doors, up and down steps—stiff arms and legs like a scarecrow in a farmer’s field.