Free The True Blue Scouts of Sugar Man Swamp by Kathi Appelt Page A

nocturnal, using the cover of darkness to mask their dastardly deeds.
    They usually travel in family groups called sounders. Isn’t that a great word? “Sounders”? We just love that.
    But do we love Buzzie and Clydine and the Farrow Gang?
    Friends, there is nothing to love there.
    Nothing.

38
    B INGO WAS DONE WITH SLEEPING. All day he had tossed and turned. Between the wonder of discovering Blinkle, the worry of the mysterious rumbles, his close encounter with the primeval possum, and his wee bit of guilt over not sharing the dewberries with J’miah, it had been a long day. Staying asleep had been a struggle. So, he was glad to see the dark of evening begin to rise.
    Then, like an alarm clock, his belly growled and he realized he was hungry again. He gave himself a big shake and stretched. He knew that he and J’miah had a mission to accomplish, Operation Rumble-Rumble-Rumble. They had to figure out what was making all that racket. But even a mission can’t stand between a raccoon and a meal.
    In the backseat J’miah stretched too. “I’m starving.”
    Considering his own new state of starvation, Bingo blithely erased his guilty feelings about the dewberries . . . sort of. Then he announced, “Crawdad Lane.” Crawdadswould be just the thing. A power breakfast to get them through Operation Rumble-Rumble-Rumble.
    â€œBingo!” said J’miah. (Bingo hated it when J’miah did that, but we think it’s kind of funny.)
    Crawdad Lane wasn’t very far away, right along the edge of a narrow bend near the bayou.
    â€œLet’s go,” said Bingo.
    â€œCrawdads over easy,” added J’miah.
    They scooted out the entryway. At the opening, they both opened their eyes, put their noses in the air, and put their ears to the ground. No rumbles. None.
    In no time at all, our Scouts were busy digging up crawdads. It wasn’t long till the two of them were lying on their backs in the cool mud along the water’s edge, their bellies stuffed like water balloons.
    From his spot in the mud, Bingo looked up through the tree branches. He could see the clouds gathering. He took a deep breath. Rain. Rain was surely on the way. But as he watched the clouds tumble by, he could see an occasional star twinkle above the trees. Each one looked as though it might be hanging in the boughs, a little like a sparkly firefly. He craned his neck to see if he could spot the red one. Just the memory of it made him happy.
    Alas, he thought, too many clouds.
    He might have stayed there for the rest of the night,except . . . rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble. There it was. Only now, it seemed to be even closer. Bingo sat up. Thanks to his stuffed belly, he groaned a little.
    â€œWhat is that?” he asked.
    Then there was a repeat. Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble.
    â€œWhat—”
    Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble. Bingo grabbed his stuffed belly and felt just a wee bit queasy.
    Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble.
    As if that weren’t enough, split splat splitter splatter. The clouds that Bingo had just watched bunched up and let loose. And then . . . Zap! A thin, jagged line of lightning slipped from the sky.
    Bingo and J’miah looked at each other knowingly. Without missing a beat, they ran back to Information Headquarters, scurried through the opening, and shook their coats.
    Outside, ZAPP!  . . . another bolt of lightning sliced through the sky. Bingo could see sparks dance all around the perimeter of the car. He was glad he was indoors. He stared through the vine-covered windshield and could just see the light on the hood ornament through the leaves. The bust of Hernando glowed. It was a weird orange color, and from where Bingo sat, he could only see the back of the conquistador’s head.
    Bingo looked at the dials on the dash, and sure enough, their purplish lights began to flicker on and off, until they finally illuminated the numbers that went