The Mouse Family Robinson (4 page)

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Authors: Dick King-Smith

BOOK: The Mouse Family Robinson
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Number 16 Simple Street did indeed smell quite strongly of mice, and the family who lived there wouldn't have dreamed of having a cat.
There were three giants (as mice thought of them): Mr. Black, Mrs. Black, and their son, a boy called Bill.
Bill Black had always been keen on pet animals, especially mice, and, once he was old enough, his parents let him keep some. These were pet mice, fancy mice, of course, not ordinary house mice like the Robinsons and Mr. Brown.
Bill had mice of several different colors: he had white ones with pink eyes and white ones with black eyes and chocolate ones and fawn ones and plum-colored ones and mice with special black markings called Dutch.
By the time Bill was ten years old, he had so many pet mice that his father and mother let him use a little spare room (which he called the Mousery) to keep all his different-colored mice in their neat cages. By the time that Janet Robinson and her daughters had come into number 16 to have a sniff around, there were thirty pet mice in the Mousery, not counting babies, so that the smell of them was pretty strong.
No matter
, thought Janet.
There's not the faintest smell of cat.
At the next full moon, all the migrants made their move down the street from number 24.
John Robinson—after politely asking the advice of old Mr. Brown—had decided that though traveling in bright moonlight might be risky, it would alert them to any cats or other dangers on the way, and at midnight the emigration began.
John led the file of mice: behind him came Beaumont and Eustace and Ambrose. Next came Mr. Brown, followed by Felicity and Desdemona and Camilla, while Janet brought up the rear.
After they'd gone a little way, Beaumont said to his father, “I'm just going to drop back to make sure Uncle B's all right.”
It was just as well he did, for at that very
moment, a dog barked loudly from inside number 22, and Mr. Brown, frightened by the sudden noise, slipped off the sidewalk. He seemed to be about to cross the road.
“Come back! Come back!
Quickly! Quickly!” cried Beaumont, and the old mouse obeyed just in time, for a car came roaring down the road, only just missing Mr. Brown.
“Oh, thank you, Beaumont, my boy!” Mr. Brown panted as he scrambled back over the curb.
Another narrow squeak
, he thought.
I save him from the cat; he saves me from the car.
After that, they passed numbers 20 and 18—cat smells coming from both of these houses—and mercifully arrived safely at number 16 and made their way in. The scent of mice was everywhere, but the nine travelers from number 24 soon found the room where it was strongest: the Mousery.
The cages in which Bill Black kept his fancy mice stood on top of two long, low tables. John Robinson shinnied up the leg of one of them and found himself in front of the first cage, staring into the red eyes of a mouse that was otherwise pure white. It was a buck, John could tell from its scent, and a bad-tempered buck at that. Coming close to the bars of its cage it said in a sneery voice, “Get lost. We don't want common house mice in here. These cages are for well-bred fancy mice only, so sling your hook, ugly mug.”
“Don't talk to me like that!” said John angrily. “Come on outside and we'll see who's the better mouse.”
“Calm down, John,” said Mr. Brown from the floor below. “He can't come out anyway, he's in a cage.”
“Just as well for him,” said John.
“Yes, but just as well for us, too,” said Mr. Brown.
He turned to Janet.
“You've been very clever in your choice of house,” he said. “One of the giants here keeps mice as pets, it would appear, so the place must to be free of cats. Well done, my dear Janet.”

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