Free Anton and Cecil, Book 2 by Lisa Martin Page B

“Rude,” he said to Anton, “but it’s a fair point.”
    Anton ignored his brother. “But, sir . . .”
    â€œIt’s ma’am,” said the mouse.
    â€œ. . . of course,” stammered Anton. “Ma’am, if you’d just tell us about the trains we’d be out of your way.”
    But there came only silence from the beam.
    Cecil gave an elaborate sigh. “This is what I’m talking about, Anton. Is Hieronymus the only polite mouse left in the world?”
    A scuffle came from the crack. “Hieronymus?” cried the mouse. “Now hold on a second, you know Hieronymus?”
    â€œWe do,” said Anton. “He’s our friend, and he called for us to come and help him.”
    â€œWell, why didn’t you say so?” she asked.
    â€œWould it have made a difference?” asked Cecil dryly.
    â€œOf course it would have,” replied the mouse, edging a bit farther out of the beam. “He saved the lives of two of my children in a real gutsy standoff with a hawk. It was a sight to see. He just
talked
that hawk into sparing those pups, sure as shootin’.” She paused, passing her tail across her eyes and sniffing. “I’ll never be able to repay him.”
    â€œWell, how about you repay
us,
with information,” suggested Cecil, “and then we’ll repay
him
for you by rescuing him.”
    The mouse nodded and raised her sliver of a paw to point down the empty track. “You’re on the right path. He went that way last time I saw him. Said he was going to find a second cousin, I believe.”
    â€œYes,” said Anton, “but no trains go that way. How did he
go
?”
    â€œWe call ’em ‘cloud riders,’ ” the mouse said. “They come in from that direction and leave again. That’s how he went.”
    â€œGreat!” exclaimed Cecil. “When?”

    â€œMaybe today, maybe tomorrow, you never can say. Have patience.” The mouse retreated, then poked her head out once more. “A little advice, though. Stay out of sight. The humans don’t care for the likes of any of us on the cloud riders. They even put dogs in cages.”
    Anton nodded. “Got it.”
    â€œBest of luck to you. And be careful. I hear tales from the mice who come from that land, stories of dark and fearsome creatures who live in the mountains.” The mouse’s whiskers twitched. “Creatures big enough to eat a cat, so they say.”
    â€œHmmm,” said Cecil, rubbing one ear with a paw. “Do they
want
to eat a cat?”
    But the mouse had disappeared. The two cats curled their front paws underneath their chests and arranged their tails alongside their bodies for warmth. As the sun began to set, Cecil gave a tremendous yawn. He forced himself to stay awake a little longer so he and Anton could watch the rails, waiting for a train to ride in on a cloud.

    As the afternoon wore on, Anton napped despite his intention to remain alert. He dreamed that he was curled comfortably on his old quilt in the lighthouse back home, when his mother Sonya rushed in, her eyes wide and frightened. She told him there was a creature outside on the path, a great beast the color of smoke with red eyes and rows of sharp teeth.
This is the one that eats cats,
Anton informed his mother in the dream, a terror creeping over him. He and Sonya listened to the creature breathing—a deep, rolling rumble moving steadily closer. They trembled in a corner as the beast screamed, high and shrill, until Anton thought his ears would split. He felt Sonya nudge him repeatedly, until finally he woke up and realized that it was Cecil prodding him, and the scream was the whistle of a long train pulling in to the yard, arriving imperiously in a cloud of steam.
    â€œThis is it,” called Cecil over the noise. And he was right—the train had come from the direction of the setting sun.
    â€œBut wait,” said