Runaway Ralph

iv Beverly Cleary I L L U S T R AT E D B Y Tracy DOckray v To Louis Darling 1916 –1970 ix COntents 1 . Ralph Hears a Distant Bugle 1 2. The Open ROad 23 3. An EducatiOnal TOy 49 4. Chum 67 5. The PersOnul MOwse 93 6. A Thief in the Craft ShOp 113 7. The Escape 134 8 . Ralph Strikes a Bargain 155 9. A DangerOus Plan 171 AbOut the AuthOr Other bOOks by Beverly cleary Credits vii COver COpyright AbOut the Publisher viii 1 Ralph Hears a Distant Bugle T he small brown mouse named Ralph who was hiding under the grandfather clock did not have much longer to wait before he could ride his motorcycle. The clock had struck eight already, and then eight thirty. Ralph was the only mouse in the Mountain View Inn, a run-down hotel in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, who 1 owned a motorcycle. It was a mouse-sized red motorcycle, a present from a boy named Keith who had been a guest in Room 215 over the Fourth of July weekend. Ralph was proud of his motorcycle, but his brothers and sisters said he was selfish. “I am not,” said Ralph. “Keith gave the motorcycle to me.” That evening, while Ralph waited under the clock and watched the television set across the lobby, a man and a woman followed by a medium-sized boy walked into the hotel. They had the rumpled look of people who had driven many miles that day. The boy was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a white T-shirt with the words Happy Acres Camp stenciled across the front. Ralph observed the boy with interest. He was the right kind of boy, a boy sure to like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Since the day Keith had left the hotel, Ralph had 2 longed for crumbs of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A grating, grinding noise came from the works of the grandfather clock. Ralph clapped his paws over his ears. The clock 3 grumbled and groaned and managed to strike the hour. Nine o’clock! The time almost had come.The stroke of nine was followed by the slow sad notes of music that lingered and died mysteriously in the distance every night at this time. “Did you hear that?” the man asked the boy.“It was the bugle at camp playing taps.” So that’s what that music is, thought Ralph, who had puzzled over those notes all summer. When the boy did not answer, his mother said,“Come on, Garf, cheer up.You’re going to have a lot of fun at camp.” “Maybe,” answered Garf,“but I doubt it.” The father looked annoyed. “You won’t have any fun if you take that attitude,” he said, and went to the desk to inquire about a room with an extra cot for the night. Ralph could not understand the boy’s behavior. He had often heard other young 4 guests wearing the same kind of white Tshirt speak of a place called camp, but unlike this boy they always sounded eager and excited about going there. Ralph did not know exactly what a camp was, but since medium-sized boys and girls went there, he thought it must be a place where people ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The desk clerk summoned old Matt, the elderly bellboy and hotel handyman, to show the family to the