Bagels the Brave

by Joan Betty Stuchner

  Joan Betty Stuchner

  illustrations by Dave Whamond

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  To Tom and Dov, as always,

  and to Cindy and my friends.

  Text copyright © 2015 Joan Betty Stuchner

  Illustrations copyright © 2015 Dave Whamond

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Stuchner, Joan Betty, author

  Bagels the brave / Joan Betty Stuchner; illustrator: Dave Whamond.

  (Orca echoes)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0493-7 (pbk.)—ISBN 978-1-4598-0494-4 (pdf).—

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0495-1 (epub)

  1. Dogs—Juvenile fiction. I. Whamond, Dave, illustrator II. Title.

  III. Series: Orca echoes

  PS8587.T825B337 2015 jC813'.54 C2014-906689-9

  C2014-906690-2

  First published in the United States, 2015

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014952069

  Summary: In this sequel to Bagels Come Home, the Bernstein family heads off on a camping trip to Sasquatch Lake, only to encounter a series of mysterious happenings.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Dave Whamond

  Author photo by Tom Kavadias

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 5626, STN. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  18 17 16 15 • 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE: We're Going Camping (Sort of)

  CHAPTER TWO: Camping Plans

  CHAPTER THREE: Sasquatch Lake, Here We Come

  CHAPTER FOUR: Forest Glade

  CHAPTER FIVE: A Walk in the Forest

  CHAPTER SIX: Pioneer Dinner

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Never Trust the Weather Forecast

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Mystery Burglar

  CHAPTER NINE: Happy Birthday, Becky (Almost)

  CHAPTER TEN: Bagels Saves Dad

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Another Cake

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Bagels the Brave

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The End (I Hope)

  CHAPTER ONE

  We're Going Camping (Sort of)

  I’m Josh Bernstein, and I’m excited.

  Why? Because the Bernstein family is going camping for three whole days.

  I hope Bagels is coming with us. He’s my dog. He’s a mutt—a mix of sheltie, Jack Russell and whippet.

  He’s a great dog—except that he can’t keep still and he doesn’t do what he’s told. But nobody’s perfect, right?

  We’ve never been camping before. My sister Becky’s almost six. I’m eight. That’s pretty old never to have been camping.

  “Will there be bears?” I ask.

  “Not where we’re going,” says Dad.

  “What about lions?” asks Becky.

  “Nope,” says Mom. “A few squirrels, maybe. Possibly a skunk or two.”

  It’ll be Becky’s birthday while we’re away.

  “I’ll bake a cake on the trip,” says Mom.

  Mom? Baking on a camping trip?

  Becky asks if she can bring Blanky. Blanky’s a baby blanket she’s had forever. It used to be yellow. Now it’s closer to gray.

  “Sure, bring Blanky,” says Mom.

  “We can sleep in the tents Aunt Sharon gave us!” I say.

  “Actually, it’s not that kind of camping,” says Dad. “We’ve rented a cabin. Like the pioneers lived in.”

  “That’s not camping,” I say.

  “What’s a pioneer?” Becky asks.

  “They’re those long-ago people who didn’t have televisions or bathrooms,” I explain. “They hunted for food because there were no supermarkets.”

  Becky says she doesn’t want to be a pioneer.

  “There’ll be a bathroom where we’re going,” Mom says. “And we’ll take food with us. Josh, stop scaring your sister.”

  “What about TV?” says Becky.

  “There isn’t one,” says Dad.

  “Can’t we be pioneers in a motel?” Becky asks.

  “We don’t need TV,” says Dad. “We’ll play board games and talk to each other. It’ll be fun. Now, where did I put Snakes and Ladders?”

  Talk? Board games? No TV? How is that fun?

  “Can Bagels come?” I ask.

  Dad gives me a look that says, “Does he have to?”

  As I said, Bagels isn’t perfect. But Becky and I love him. Besides, he’s a talented stage actor. I know acting isn’t much use on a camping trip. But a couple of months ago, Bagels appeared in the Marpole Players’ production of Peter Pan.

  Okay, he wasn’t supposed to be in Peter Pan. Mom and Dad were the lead actors. Bagels was supposed to be at home. But he’s an escape artist.

  Becky and I think that on Peter Pan night, our cat Creamcheese opened a window for him. She likes to get him into trouble.

  Bagels arrived at the theater and ended up onstage.

  It was my fault, so I’m lucky the audience loved him. In fact, the director wants him in next year’s production of Pup in Boots.

  Since then, we’ve had our windows fixed. Now they’re dog- and cat-proof.

  There’s just one thing. Becky and I haven’t told Mom and Dad that Bagels can also open doors.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Camping Plans

  “Of course Bagels is coming,” says Mom. “He’s a great guard dog.” She means he barks anytime someone comes to the door. He barks extra loud for the mail carrier.

  He also eats the mail. And the mail carrier’s learned not to put her hand through the mail slot anymore.

  Becky and I have worked really hard to get Bagels to behave. He hasn’t jumped in the neighbor’s fish pond for a long time. It helps that our neighbor put chicken wire over the pond after Bagels frightened his fish to death.

  Bagels still rounds up joggers. That’s because he thinks they’re sheep. We’re working on that and on the mail-eating problem.

  It’s not his fault he’s a slow learner.

  Dad frowns at Bagels. Bagels grins back at him.

  “Bagels can’t get into much trouble camping,” I say.

  We all know that’s not true.

  “Fine,” says Dad. “But this is his last chance. If he doesn’t behave on this trip, he can go live on a farm. Lots of space. Lots of sheep.”

  Becky and I look at each other. We’re not going to let that happen.

  “Where’s the cabin?” I ask.

  “Sasquatch Lake,” says Dad.

  “Who’ll take care of Creamcheese and Lox?” I ask. Lox is our goldfish.

  Mom says Aunt Sharon’s taking care of the house while we’re away.

  We’re not leaving until next week. Becky drags out her little pink suitcase anyway and starts packing.

  Oh well, I might as well start packing too. I drag out my brown case and my Dad’s big old army duffel bag.

  The first things I pack are my alligator flashlight and my camera.

  I also find a couple of other things that
might come in handy.

  More on that later.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sasquatch Lake, Here We Come

  Aunt Sharon stands at the door and waves to us. She’s holding Creamcheese. Creamcheese is squirming, but Aunt Sharon is pretty strong.

  “Have fun being pioneers.”

  Creamcheese sneers at Bagels. I can read her mind. She wants him to get into trouble at the lake. She hopes he won’t come back.

  As we fill the trunk, Dad eyes the duffel bag. “Josh, we’ll only be gone three days. Why so much luggage?”

  “Always be prepared,” I say.

  “Wow,” says Dad. “And you’re not even a Boy Scout.”

  You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, a-cryin’ all the time…

  Dad’s playing an Elvis CD. Dad and Bagels both love rock ’n’ roll. It’s the one thing they have in common. Mom doesn’t like Elvis. She says his grammar is poor. Bagels is perched between Becky and me in the backseat. He sings along with the King.

  … you ain’t never caught a rabbit...

  “Rooroo, wah, wah, wah...”

  …and you ain’t no friend of mine...

  Dad drives and sings. Mom holds the map.

  “Turn right here,” says Mom.

  Dad turns right.

  “Left at the next light,” says Mom. Dad obeys.

  They do this until we finally reach the lake.

  It’s in the middle of a hilly forest. I see a few farms close by.

  There’s a signpost. Sasquatch Lake: Pioneer cabins ahead.

  Something moves behind the signpost.

  I see a hairy face.

  I blink.

  It’s gone.

  Weird.

  We park near a shack. It looks haunted, like something from a horror movie. The Shack at Haunted Lake. There’s a sign on the door. It says Forest Glade. That sounds like the name of an air freshener.

  “Honey,” says Dad, “are you sure this is it?”

  Mom takes a brochure from her purse. It says Sasquatch Lake Map.

  She opens it up.

  “This is it.”

  She takes a key out of her purse.

  I look at the shack. Are those holes in the roof?

  “I saw a motel back on the highway,” says Becky. “I bet it has TV.”

  I forget to put Bagels on the leash before we get out of the car. There are ducks on the lake. He sees them. He grins and does a backflip. Then he runs to the lake and dives in.

  He swims in circles. The ducks cuss at him in duck language.

  Mom opens the trunk of the car. She and Dad take out the luggage and the groceries. Becky grabs her pink suitcase.

  Dad looks at Bagels and shakes his head.

  “One more chance,” he says to me.

  Then he takes the groceries into Forest Glade.

  “Bagels,” I yell, “get out of the lake right now.”

  Bagels thinks I’ve said, “Stay in the lake, Bagels, and annoy the ducks.”

  He keeps it up for a few more minutes. Then he barks, dips his head in the water and comes up with a fish in his mouth.

  He swims to shore, scrambles up the bank and runs in circles around me. Then he runs past me. Then he dances a jig.

  I take a photo. Bagels drops the fish. It flips. It flops. It lies very still.

  Bagels does a shimmy shake. Water flies everywhere.

  “Here, Bagels,” I say, patting my leg.

  He grins. He chases his tail. Then he skids to a stop. He looks at the forest. He stiffens. His hair stands on end.

  A twig snaps. A bush trembles.

  A deer, maybe? A squirrel? Or a skunk!

  What if there are bears?

  I grab Bagels’s collar just in time. He growls. I pick him up. I pick up the dead fish.

  “Bagels,” I say, “you are not going to get into any more trouble.”

  He struggles. I hold on tight.

  The fish doesn’t struggle.

  I think it’s kind of dead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Forest Glade

  “Bagels caught dinner?” says Dad.

  Mom wants to know what kind of fish it is.

  “It has fins and scales,” Dad says, “and it’s fresh. That’s good enough for me.”

  I look around the cabin. It doesn’t smell like a forest glade. It smells funky. Also, I was right. There are holes in the roof.

  Lucky for us, the forecast says sunshine for the next three days.

  “Josh, you and Becky will share a room,” says Mom.

  “Bunk beds!” Becky shrieks from our room.

  She wants the top bunk. Fine with me.

  While Becky unpacks, I head for the kitchen.

  Mom and Dad are there. So is Bagels. He’s racing around the kitchen.

  Dad’s brewing coffee. “Josh,” he says, “please feed Bagels.”

  I find a can of Meaty Delight and put some in Bagels’s bowl. Bagels stops racing and starts eating. By the time I’ve helped Mom put away the groceries, Bagels has licked the bowl all around the kitchen.

  “When you’ve unpacked, you kids can take Bagels for a walk in the forest,” says Mom. “Only don’t go too far.”

  She looks around the kitchen. Then she opens the window. “What we need in here,” she says, “is some fresh air.”

  I’m not sure Mom’s ready to be a pioneer. Dad hands her a coffee.

  “Don’t forget to take your mom’s cell phone,” he says.

  I go to my room and unpack my suitcase.

  I leave the duffel bag in a corner.

  “Be prepared,” I say to myself. I grab Mom’s cell phone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Walk in the Forest

  “Why is Bagels on his leash?” asks Becky.

  Bagels wonders the same thing. It’s a long leash, but he still pulls on it.

  I don’t tell Becky about the hairy-faced guy. I don’t tell her about the snapping twig or the shaking branches. She’s only five. Well, six tomorrow.

  Bagels sniffs the ground in all directions.

  “Bagels,” I say, “what’s wrong?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “This forest is dark,” says Becky. “Can we go back now?”

  “Soon,” I say.

  Part of me wants to know what Bagels has sniffed out.

  Part of me doesn’t.

  “What if we get lost?” says Becky. “Like Hansel and Gretel?”

  I pat my pocket. “We have Mom’s cell phone. They didn’t.”

  Bagels whimpers. “Hmmm. Hmmm.”

  He’s scared. Bagels is never scared.

  If he’s scared, there’s something scary out there.

  “Okay, Becky,” I say. “I’m with you. Let’s go back to Stinky Vines.”

  “Forest Glade,” says Becky.

  “Right.”

  “Bagels,” I say, “let’s go.” Bagels doesn’t move. He just whimpers.

  “Josh, why is Bagels making that scaredy-noise?”

  I tell her I don’t know. It’s like Bagels has been hypnotized.

  Dad must have been wrong. It has to be a bear.

  “Keep very still,” I tell Becky. I try to remember the rule about bears. Do you make a lot of noise or no noise? I know that climbing a tree is out.

  I hear rustling.

  Becky whispers, “Whazat?”

  “I don’t know. Shh.”

  Bagels turns. He looks at me—terrified. Then he flies into my arms.

  I fall backward. On Becky.

  “Owww.”

  “Sorry, Becky.”

  I look over Bagels’s shoulder. I expect to see a grizzly bear.

  But I don’t see a bear. I see two sheep. Actually, one of them is a lamb.

  Becky squirms out from under us. She sees the sheep.

  “Awww!” she coos. “A lamb! Look, Josh, a baby lamb and its mommy.”

  “Well,” I say, “it’s sure not a grizzly bear.”

  I stand up with Bagels still wrapp
ed around my neck. He’s choking me.

  “Josh, what’s wrong with Bagels?”

  “I’m not positive,” I say, “but I think he’s afraid of the sheep.”

  “But he’s part sheltie,” says Becky. “He rounds up joggers.”

  “Well, Becky, I guess he’s not afraid of joggers.”

  The lamb and its mom skip away, bleating happily.

  “Behe, behe, behe.”

  Bagels clings tighter.

  “Bagels,” I croak, “they’ve gone. You can get down now.”

  He looks over his shoulder. He waits. He jumps down. This time I wrap the leash twice around my wrist.

  We head back to the cabin. Poor Bagels keeps looking over his shoulder. Becky and I agree not to tell anyone about Bagels being afraid of sheep.* It might not be too good for his image as a guard dog.

  *Anyone who has a fear of sheep suffers from ovinaphobia.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Pioneer Dinner

  When we get back to Forest Glade, it doesn’t smell funky anymore. It smells of grilled fish.

  Our first meal at Sasquatch Lake is delicious.

  Bagels mostly plays with his food.

  “Bagels has lost his appetite,” says Dad. “That’s not like him.”

  Becky and I stay quiet.

  Dad’s cell phone starts to play “All Shook Up.” Bagels perks up a little. It’s one of his favorite Elvis tunes.

  Dad answers the phone. “Bernstein summer residence,” he says. Then he frowns.

  “Who is this?”

  There’s a pause.

  “Someone’s breathing heavily,” says Dad. “Now he’s grunting.”

  “May I see?” I ask. He hands me the phone. I check the screen. Mom’s number is on it.

  “Oh no,” I say. I check my pocket. No phone. “I must have lost Mom’s phone. Someone found it.”

  I put the phone to my ear. “Hello. Did you find our phone? Who is this, please?”

  I hear sounds like the ones Dad makes when he falls asleep in front of the television at home. Or like the big gorilla in that movie King Kong.

  The phone goes dead.

  I must have dropped the phone when Bagels leaped on me.

  “What did he say?” asks Mom.

  “Nothing,” I say. “He just breathed funny and grunted.”