Tales From the Glades of Ballymore (23 page)

The noise sounded like a cannon to them.

“Let’s hurry,” said Wilde.

They closed the box without examining the contents.  Bartholomew blew out his candle.  Then, they heard a noise they were afraid they would hear, the flapping of Burton’s tail.  Bartholomew looked over the edge.  The fog was getting thicker, and he saw that a light had come on in the caretaker’s cottage.

“We’ve run out of time.  He’s coming.”

Bartholomew picked up the box, jumped onto the ledge and flew down to the waiting Stoddard.  He put it on Stoddard’s back and secured it to the harness.  In seconds Stoddard lifted off and disappeared into the fog.  He had predetermined his flight path and flew “blind” until he was above the fog.  He then turned north and headed for Ballymore.

Bartholomew flew back up to the weasels who were picking up the tools.  Now, they heard a door open and close and steps approaching.  They pushed the stone back into place.  There was no time to replace the mortar.  The caretaker was now coming up the steps.

“We can’t get out,” said Wilder.

“We’ll have to climb down the outside of the wall,” said Wilde.

The weasels hopped up onto the ledge and began to climb down the outside of the bell tower as the caretaker was coming up the inside.  The old stone wall was rough, so they were able to get a good grip.  However, in their rush, the weasels had left the pry bar.  Bartholomew grabbed it and flew to the woods.  Just as the weasels reached the ground, the caretaker reached the top.  He looked over the ledge but saw only fog.  Wilde and Wilder were able to scurry to the safety of the woods.  They had escaped by a whisker.

The caretaker looked around the bell tower but didn’t see anything unusual.  He failed to notice the loose mortar.  After a minute or so he decided that some bird had accidentally hit the bell and returned to his cottage.

Everyone made it safely back to the rendezvous point.  Because of the fog, the lookouts had to leave their observation points early.  Wilde told them that the box had been retrieved, and it was now on its way to Ballymore.  He also told them about their close escape and how the fog had helped.

“What was in the box?” asked Burton.

Bartholomew answered, “We didn’t have time to examine it, but there was another note and some pieces of wood.  It looked very similar to the first box.”

The fog had helped the weasels escape, but it now had the team trapped.  Visibility remained very poor.  Worse, in the excitement of the getaway, Bartholomew had dropped his compass somewhere.

Bartholomew advised, “We are tired now, so let’s get some rest.  Hopefully, the fog will be gone in the morning.”

The bell bonged twice.

Unfortunately, in the morning, the fog was still with them.  It was a serious problem.  The animals arose and had a light breakfast.

Wilde stared out into the fog and said, “Well, we can stay here until the fog clears, but we don’t know how long that will be.  Also, the longer we stay, the greater the chance of being spotted.  Although, we’re pretty well hidden by the fog.”

As they pondered their situation, the fireflies appeared again.  Because of the fog, it seemed they came out of nowhere.  Wilder saw them first and was elated.  They all had their lights on bright.  The chief firefly came forward and landed on Wilder’s nose.  The others then lowered their lights.

Wilder said, “Hello!  It’s very good to see you again.  Our mission was successful, but we are now trapped by the fog.  We need to return to Ballymore.  Can you help us?”

They certainly could help and did.  Within minutes the animals were hiking north, guided by the light from the fireflies.  Even though the fog eventually cleared, the fireflies stayed with them for the whole return journey.  The animals were most grateful.  They got back to Ballymore in the late afternoon of the 15th and immediately went to Bartholomew’s home.  They were welcomed and followed by most of the residents.  Stoddard brought the box from his cottage.

Although tired, Bartholomew presided over the opening of the box.  Everyone crowded around as he unlatched its lid for the second time.  Inside were the instructions for the next puzzle location and seven pieces of wood.  They were as beautifully polished as the first pieces.

When the pieces were connected, the new line of coded message was:

MVVEZ QUV AJSE

The yellowed envelope was, again, addressed to:

The Residents of Ballymore

He opened and read it.  

“Well, we are making great progress.  I want to thank everybody for their efforts, especially Wilde and Wilder Weasel,” said Bartholomew.  “The next puzzle trip will be closer to home, and I will start planning it soon.  Now, I am quite tired from the trip.  Everybody, please excuse me.”

He put everything in his shoulder bag.  The animals applauded as he climbed the steps and headed for bed.

As a way of thanking the fireflies for their help, Wilder invited them to the butterfly migration and picnic in two days.  It appeared that they accepted the invitation.

Every year, for as far back as anyone could remember, the autumn butterfly migration arrived in Ballymore on September 17th.  The butterflies landed on the island and rested there for one day.  The migration was a good excuse for a community picnic, which was held at the pavilion and surrounding park.  Somehow, the butterflies knew to stay away from that area.  They certainly didn’t want to be stepped on by their hosts.  The majority of the island was covered by a live, multi-colored carpet for one day.

Of course, Petunia Porcupine was at the picnic.  During the afternoon she heard that Dr. Brigit had a cold and was not feeling well.  She decided to leave the picnic early, go home, and bake a coconut custard pie for her.  The pie was still warm when she left for Brigit’s cottage, two hours later.  She could still see the butterflies and picnic over on the island.  It was early evening, and the sky was cloudy, but no rain was forecast.   The walk to Brigit’s home was only about five minutes.

Just before Brigit’s cottage, Petunia entered a small clearing.  Suddenly, she heard the sound of wings.  A large hawk landed about ten feet in front of her, blocking her path.  She had never seen this bird before.  He didn’t look respectable, and she was startled.

The hawk asked, “What’s in the basket?”

She was now trembling.  “I’m taking a p-pie to my friend who is ill.”

The hawk hissed and took a step forward.  “Between you and that pie, I’ll have a good dinner tonight.”

Petunia was petrified and couldn’t move or even speak.

“I believe I would change those plans if I were you,” said a voice to the right of the hawk.  From behind some trees Wilde Weasel stepped into the clearing.  He was wearing his fatigues again.  When he stood up and bared his fangs, the hawk realized that he was a formidable foe.  Despite that, the hawk spit at him and said, “Who says so?”

Snarling, Wilde answered fiercely, “I do!”

“And I do, also!” snarled Wilder Weasel, who had just stepped from the trees to the left of the hawk.  Also wearing fatigues, he looked equally imposing.  The hawk turned to see his second foe.

“We suggest you leave immediately, while you can,” continued Wilder.  Each weasel took a step towards the hawk.  Saliva was dripping from their mouths.  They were ready for a fight.

The hawk turned towards Petunia.  He calculated that he could beat one weasel but not two.  He hissed again, spat on the ground, and took flight quickly.  In seconds he was gone.

Wilde and Wilder rushed to Petunia.  She was still shaking.

“It’s all right now, Mrs. Porcupine.  He’s gone.  You’re safe,” said Wilde, and he put his arm around her.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking a p-pie to Dr. Brigit.”

“Well, you’re almost there.  Let us help you,” said Wilder kindly.

“Thank you, yes,” she responded.

The weasels each took her by a paw, and they walked slowly to Dr. Brigit’s cottage.  Wilder carried the pie, which smelled very good to him.

Brigit saw them coming and opened the front door.  It was obvious that something had happened.

“Petunia, please come in and sit down.  Let me bring you some tea,” she said.  “What, in the world, happened?”

“I was b-bringing a pie to you, and I was attacked by a hawk.  Wilde and Wilder s-saved me.”  She started to cry.  Dr. Brigit put her arm around her and comforted her.

The weasels stood, almost at attention, near the front door.  They were looking self-confident and proud.

As Petunia regained her composure, she told what had happened.

Eventually, Dr. Brigit turned to the weasels and said, “You certainly did well tonight, boys.  Thank you very much.”

Wilde said, “Thank you, Dr. Brigit.”

“How did you happen to be in the clearing at that time?” she asked.

“We’ve been tracking that hawk since we spotted him circling the pond in the early afternoon.  We thought he could be trouble and he was,” answered Wilde.

“Well done!  I bet those camouflage outfits helped.”

“They certainly did,” answered Wilder.

Petunia finished her tea and said, “I’m feeling much better now.  Thank you everybody.”  She stood up and went over to Wilde and Wilder and hugged each one.

The word spread quickly about the weasels’ valiant actions.  Their reputation climbed a couple of more notches, and for a few weeks they were pleased to accept several dinner invitations.  They would need the extra goodwill because next month was Halloween when they were at their most devilish.

The building of Sam Snapping Turtle’s cottage commenced the day after the butterfly picnic.  The weather was cool, and there was more than a hint of autumn in the air.  An early morning mist was on the pond.  That was a sure sign of the changing seasons.  Burton Beaver sniffed the fresh air as he left his cottage to go and meet with Sam.  He loved fall.  It was so refreshing.  It was refreshing as long as you weren’t trapped in the woods by fog, that is.  The beaver entered the water and swam down the cove to where Sam lived.

Sam was waiting for him at the farthest end.  Devon Duck and Sedgewick Squirrel would be joining them, also.

“Good morning.  How are you?” said Burton.

“Good morning.  I’m fine, thank you.”

“It’s a beautiful day to begin building a cottage,” said Burton.  “Have you thought about the style you would like?”

“A little.  I only need a small cottage, and the only special feature I can think of is an underwater entrance.”

“Ah, similar to our cottage but smaller,” said Burton.

“Yes, that would be great.  Thank you.”

“Then, we will start immediately.  The first step is to assemble the building materials.  The squirrels will gather pine needles, straw, and reeds for the roof.  My family will find wood from fallen trees.  Perhaps you can help the ducks with the stones,” explained Burton.

“Yes.  How can I help?”

“A short distance down the creek, a lot of stones have accumulated near the bank,” said Burton.  “We use the raft and take what we need for cottages or other projects.  Of course, the ducks pull the raft.  Your extra strength would be a great help, especially if the current is strong.”

“I’m ready whenever you need me,” answered Sam.  “I very much want to help build my cottage.”