Free Runaway Ralph by Beverly Cleary

motorcycle across a bench or around the edge of the Ping-Pong table as if he were lost in a dream of speed and danger. The sight of his precious motorcycle made Ralph evenmore frantic for freedom.
    And then to add to his troubles, there was still Catso, who had been only temporarily amused by the wristwatch and who would sooner or later, Ralph was sure, return to the cage. Ralph felt thin, nervous, and run-down. His cage was untidy even by mouse standards of housekeeping. “I wish I knew how to stage a jailbreak,” he confided to Chum.
    â€œIf there is anything I can do to help, let me know,” said Chum, and cracked a sunflower seed he had earned that morning when he had stuffed his cheeks until he had fallen to the bottom of his cage.
    Chum might toss me a sunflower seed instead of those alfalfa pellets, thought Ralph crossly.
    At rest period Aunt Jill came into the craft shop to straighten supply shelves. Ralph watched as she sorted dried seeds, which looked delicious, as well as weeds andpinecones. As he watched, he saw a possibility of help. After all, Aunt Jill, unlike most women, was kind to mice. Looking as small and as pitiful as possible, Ralph clung to the bars of his cage.
    In time, Aunt Jill noticed him. “Hello there, little fellow,” she said kindly.
    Ralph made his whiskers quiver. “Let me out of here,” he said, quite sure the woman could not understand.
    Aunt Jill smiled when she heard the mouse squeak and offered him a sunflower seed, which he snatched and cracked so greedily that he forgot to look pitiful.
    â€œMy, but you’re a hungry little fellow,” remarked Aunt Jill, but she did not offer him another seed. Instead, when the camp awoke, she called to Garf, who came to the door of the craft shop but did not enter.
    â€œYour mouse is hungry,” said Aunt Jill.
    â€œSomebody else can feed him,” said Garf.
    â€œHe’s your personal mouse,” reminded Aunt Jill.
    â€œI didn’t take the old watch,” said Garf. “I don’t want to come in there.”
    â€œI am sure you didn’t take it,” said Aunt Jill calmly, “but don’t forget that you wanted to be the only one to feed your mouse. He is hungry and his cage needs to be cleaned.”
    Garf hesitated but entered the craft shop, and while Ralph scrambled around looking for a way out, he slid the bottom from the cage, changed the cedar shavings, and replaced it. He detached the water bottle, filled it at the sink, and was fastening it to the cage when Aunt Jill went out, leaving the boy alone with the two animals.
    Here at last was the moment Ralph had been waiting for. “Say, Garf—” he began, but the boy, not expecting the mouse to speak, appeared not to hear. Ralph was desperate. “Say, Garf!” he said at the top of his mouse voice.
    When Garf glanced at him, Ralph said as loud as he could, “Listen to me! You know that motorcycle you’ve been playing with? It’s mine.”
    Garf stared at his mouse. “You’re talking,” he said in an astonished whisper. “I don’t believe it. You’re talking!”
    Ralph had spoken and Garf answered. They were both so excited they were speechless. Finally Garf spoke again. “Go on. Say something more.”
    Ralph pulled himself together and remembered why speaking to Garf was urgent. “ Pb-b-b-b ,” he sputtered, to show Garf what he meant. “That motorcycle. It’s mine. Pb-b-b-b . That’s the noise I make to run it.”
    â€œYou’re joking!” Garf continued to stare at Ralph as if he could not believe what was happening.
    â€œNo, I’m not,” said Ralph. “I hid it under the bamboo leaves just before that catpounced on me. I hid my crash helmet, too.”

    â€œYour crash helmet!” Garf could not help laughing, which, of course, hurt Ralph’s feelings. The boy pulled the motorcycle out of his pocket, studied