Boys Against Girls (13 page)

      W
ally decided he had better not tell his brothers about his talk with Caroline. He didn't know why he had told her so much himself. Because he really wanted to know if she had seen anything, he guessed. Anyway, what harm would it do? She and her sisters—she and Beth, anyway—had really been scared. If Wally could capture an abaguchie and find out what it
really
was, maybe the Malloy girls would quit bugging them—would realize that they weren't to be messed with and would leave them alone. And if the Benson brothers heard about it down in Georgia, you bet your boots they'd come back¡

By the time Wally got home from school, because it was his day to clean all the erasers for Miss Applebaum, he found Jake and Josh at the kitchen table with Josh's elaborate drawing of the abaguchie trap. Peter was leaning his elbows on the end of the table,
a piece of bread smeared with peanut butter in his hands, chewing wide eyed with his mouth open.

Wally tried not to look. Whenever Wally was really hungry at school and didn't think he could hold out until noon, he thought about the way half-chewed bread and peanut butter looked in Peter's mouth, and he wasn't hungry anymore.

From where Wally sat across the table, he could see a drawing of a big rectangular box being held up with a stick.

“Where do we get the box?”

“Mom said there was a wooden refrigerator crate at the hardware store she could save for us.”

Josh turned the paper around so Wally could see better.

“We put the bait under here, see, so the animal has to crawl under to get it. But we'll have a trip wire attached to the bait, so all the abaguchie has to do is jiggle it a little and the crate will come down on top of him.”

“We won't even know what we've got!” Jake said. “We'll all be too scared to lift it up, and if we did, the animal could get out.”

Josh thought about that. “Then we'll have to drill little holes in the sides so we can see in. Maybe even a bigger hole so we can feed it till the sheriff comes or something.”

“How are we supposed to get that refrigerator crate home, Josh?” Wally asked. “They're heavy!”

“Carry it. All four of us. When you're ready, we'll go.”

Wally liked any excuse at all to go to the hardware store, because it was like three stores in one—three storefront shops, all connected to each other by doorways on the inside—one selling refrigerators and other appliances, one selling lamps and dishes, and the third selling nails and seeds and paint. Wally liked the one selling nails and seeds and paint. He liked to watch the clerks measure out seeds on the old metal scales—first putting the right weight on one side, then adding the seeds to the scoop on the other until the two sides balanced.

There were times Wally thought he might like to spend his life just working the scales, measuring things until everything balanced out right, because so often nothing in his life seemed to balance at all.

“You fellas want that wooden refrigerator crate, huh?” the owner said. “Gonna have a tree house or something?”

“Something like that,” Jake said.

Mother, who was working the cash register, told them where to find it, and five minutes later the four boys were carrying it home on their shoulders like a coffin.

It took a long time to set it up. They worked right
up until dinnertime, and when Mother came home from the hardware store, she said she'd delay supper another half hour so that they could finish, seeing how much work they had put in on the project. She was as interested as anyone else in what they might catch. Put that abaguchie rumor to rest once and for all.

At last, with Wally holding the flashlight and Peter jumping up and down because he was cold, they rigged the large heavy crate so that one end rested on the ground back by the trees, the other held up by a stick. On the underside a raw chicken leg dangled from a wire. If anything pulled at the chicken leg, the wire would pull the stick out from under the uplifted end of the crate, and the creature would be trapped. At the same time a cowbell attached to the crate would clang, so the boys would know something was there.

They were so excited, they could scarcely eat dinner. They had tried it out again and again, each taking turns being the abaguchie, and each time the crate came down over them.

But Wally suddenly sat straight up in his chair. “It could be anything!” he said in dismay. “A rat could get under that crate and nibble that chicken leg and the crate would fall. We could have done all that work for a rat.”

“I don't know,” said Josh. “The meat's hanging,
remember, and it's about three feet off the ground. It's got to be a creature big enough to get at the meat and give it a good tug.”

Wally passed the potatoes. Jake passed the meat. And just at that moment, from far out in the backyard, came the clang of the cowbell.

Twenty-two
The Capture

      C
aroline sat on her bed with her jacket—-Beth's outgrown jacket—on her legs and wondered where she would do the least damage.

There was already a small bare spot along the hem where a tuft of the brownish fur had caught in the back door of Oldakers’ Bookstore. She could not afford to lose another piece of fur there.

The cuffs of the sleeves? Or fur from the edge of the pocket?

Turning the jacket inside out, she found a place inside the collar where it didn't seem to make any difference, and then she reached for the scissors.

Wrong¡ That could make it look too even. The fur had to be torn away, as though snagged from the coat of a mountain lion. Carefully she tugged and twisted out a piece of fur, a larger piece than she'd intended, but it certainly looked real.

She had been coming out of the library when she'd seen Wally and his brothers carrying a huge refrigerator crate down the alley from the hardware store. She had waited behind a wall until they passed.
That
must be the cage Wally had been talking about. Not only was that the cage but it was big and strong enough to ship the abaguchie off to a zoo in, once they'd caught it¡

She spent the rest of the afternoon at home, knowing she could not go see what they had done until she was sure they were having dinner. Finally, she stuck the tuft of fur inside her pocket and set off. No flashlight. She couldn't afford having them catch her this time. She crossed the swinging bridge and slipped around the back of the Hatfords’ house.

Her heart began to pound harder as she faced the dark line of trees behind the toolshed where she had seen—or thought she had seen—two yellow eyes, and heard—or thought she'd heard—a growl. Did she dare go back there again without a flashlight? She wished now she had brought one. But she
had
to go. She had to do something incredibly brave so that Eddie would think it fun to hang around with her again.

She groped her way toward the shed, almost entangling herself in Mrs. Hatford's clothesline, and stumbling once over Peter's wagon, but she managed
to get back to the shed without anyone hearing, and looked around.

It didn't take long to make out the large refrigerator crate back in the trees, one end propped up with a stick.

She could tell right away what was supposed to happen. The abaguchie would crawl under the box, eat the bait, and somehow knock over the stick so that the crate would drop and trap it. What she had to do was crawl underneath, unhook the bait, and leave the piece of fake fur in its place, being careful to get in and out without knocking over the stick that was holding up one end of the crate.

Was this going to be easy or what?

Caroline got down on her hands and knees and crawled under the heavy wood crate, careful not to touch the stick at the other end. She was beginning to think—no, she had thought for a long time, actually—that girls were far smarter than boys. Obviously the Hatfords thought that if they went to all this work to rig up the trap, the abaguchie would come right along and crawl in. If the abaguchie was clever enough to keep from being captured so far, wouldn't it be clever enough not to get captured now? And there were dozens of other animals that could crawl in here and eat the bait, so that all this trap might catch would be a squirrel or something.

No, girls were superior to boys in every way. If
you took all of Jake's and Josh's and Wally's and Peter's talents and put them together, they still wouldn't measure up to half of Eddie's skill in sports, Beth's mind, or Caroline's imagination.

Her fingers felt around for the bait, and for a moment she felt as though this might be too much for her. What if it was a dead bird or fish? A live mouse?

Something bumped against her cheek. Gingerly she reached up and felt something cold and slippery and raw-smelling hanging from a wire. Ugh¡ But it didn't move, so at least it wasn't alive.

Her fingers explored it. A chicken leg, they told her. A raw chicken leg. That wasn't so bad. All she had to do was pull it off, stick the clump of fake fur in its place, and crawl out again.

She yanked on the leg.

Clang, clang, clang¡

Caroline did not know what was happening or how, but from somewhere just beyond her head a loud bell was sounding, then the crate came down around her.

Frantically she tried to lift up one side of the crate, but somehow the chicken-leg wire had got tangled in her hair. She was trying to free herself when she heard yells, running footsteps, and then cautious voices outside the box.

“We did it!” A yell from Wally.

“Josh, it worked!” Jake's voice. “Listen, we've got to be careful, now.”

“Who's got the flashlight?”

“Peter, go get the flashlight.”

“Why do I have to do everything?”

“Do you hear anything?”

“Maybe we should get Dad.”

“We can at least peek.”

More footsteps. These seemed to be going back to the house. The slam of a door. Then another slam, and footsteps were coming back again.

“Give it to me.”

“Turn it on.”

“Careful, now.”

And suddenly a beam of light came through a round hole on the far side of the box, and then there was a gasp, and a chorus of voices:

“Caroline!”

Twenty-three
Gone