Trapped: A Tale of Friendship Bog

by Gloria Repp

  It was made of metal, and it had a torn sign on it that didn’t make any sense: BEANS

  “What is this?” he asked.

  Alix shrugged. “That’s just an old can. I’ve seen them at campgrounds. Come on.”

  Alix was climbing up to the next room so Pibbin started to follow, but he stopped to glance back at the can. Why had Nisk wrapped string around it like that?

  The lid of the can was flat except for one bent edge, and the string held it closed. Something important might be inside.

  Why not take a look?

  The sticky pads on his toes helped him to climb up the can, and the string gave him something to hold onto. Soon he had reached the bent edge and could look in.

  Fur! The can seemed to be full of brown fur. Brown squirrel fur?

  “Duffy?” Pibbin said. “Is that you?”

  The fur moved. A tail brushed past, and Duffy’s face appeared. “Pib!”

  The little squirrel looked worn out. “You found me! Where’s—”

  Alix bounded over to them. “I’m here, Duff!! I’m here!”

  He pulled off the string and bent the lid of the can back, and Duffy poked his head out.

  Alix scooped him up into his arms.

  “I knew you’d find me!” Duffy cried.

  But then Duffy stopped smiling and looked at the doorway. “We’d better hurry,” he said. “Don’t let Nisk catch us in here.”

  Alix growled. “We’re going to walk right out the front door. Just let him try something and he’ll be sorry.”

  “No!” Duffy said. “He’s got a new trap at the front door, and I don’t know how it works.”

  Pibbin glanced at Leeper. The tunnel? Not again!

  Alix shook his head. “I’m not going back down that tunnel.”

  “There’s another tunnel,” Duffy said slowly. “At the bottom of the back steps.”

  “We saw it,” Alix said.

  Duffy looked hopeful. “Nisk is still working on it, and he might not have any traps built yet.”

  “Okay,” Alix said. “I guess we’ll have to take a chance on it.”

  They hurried through the back door, down the steps, and into the side tunnel.

  Once again, Alix led the way, with Duffy hanging onto his neck.

  Yes, this looked like a new tunnel. Roots still hung down overhead, and everything smelled fresh. Pibbin hopped across mounds of sandy dirt and tried to keep up.

  A pile of logs stood in the middle of the tunnel, but Alix jumped right over them. He kept going faster and faster, and even Leeper began to fall behind.

  Pibbin did his best to catch up, and Leeper hopped more slowly, waiting for him.

  “Watch out, Pib,” he said. “This tunnel is climbing a hill and getting narrow again. Like it does for traps. Look at Alix up there—he has to crawl to get through.”

  Thump. Had another basket fallen onto Alix?

  Pinecones rolled down the tunnel.

  More pinecones rolled down the tunnel.

  They kept rolling and rolling like a lumpy brown wave, each one bigger than Pibbin, rolling and rolling and rolling.

  “Run!” Leeper called.

  Pibbin did a quick backwards flip and hopped away from them as fast as he could go.

  At last the cones stopped, but they blocked the tunnel like a huge prickly wall.

  Now what? Pibbin glanced at Leeper, and his pal seemed to be asking himself the same question.

  Alix called, “Hey, are you two okay?”

  “Sure!” Leeper hopped back toward the mountain of cones.

  He started pushing them aside, and Pibbin came too. He tried to help, but they couldn’t make even a dent in the wall of cones.

  As soon as Leeper opened a space, more cones rolled into it, and one big cone knocked Pibbin off his feet.

  How long would this take?

  Scratching sounds came from the other side, and soon they could see Alix digging at the cones.

  He cleared a path for them, and Pibbin was glad to hop through.

  A large box lay on its side, with cones spilling out of it.

  Leeper stopped to look at the box. “Is that where they came from?”

  “I guess so,” Alix said. “I must have run into a wire or something tied to that box. If I hadn’t jumped out of the way, it would have fallen on top of me.”

  He frowned. “Looks like old Nisk got at least one trap built in here. I hope it’s the only one.”

  Alix picked Duffy up from where he had left him, and they set off again.

  The tunnel turned and joined an older, wider tunnel. The floor here was covered with leaves, and each step Alix took made a tiny crunch.

  The tunnel went on and on.

  Where was it going?

  Would they ever get out of here?

  After a while, Pibbin heard something—someone?—behind them.

  He listened, but he didn’t stop.

  The sound grew louder and louder.

  Crunch—crunch—crunch.

  Crunch—crunch—crunch.

  Alix must have heard it too.

  He turned to look at them. “You two go in front of me. If I have to fight, I’ll put Duffy down and he can run with you. Hurry.”

  They hopped faster, with Alix a short way behind them.

  Jump over that stick. Around the post.

  Don’t step on that hammer.

  Duck under those roots.

  “Ow!” Alix said. “What’s a post doing here in the tunnel?”

  Crash!

  “Keep going!” Alix called to them. “Whatever fell down, it’s behind me.”

  Something certainly had fallen, and now someone was shrieking.

  “That must be Nisk.” Alix had caught up to them. “Quick! We’re almost out.”

  Moonlight glowed ahead, and soon they could see a ragged stump with moss growing all around it.

  Behind them, a voice cried out, “Oh! Oh! No—oh—no!”

  “Quick,” Alix said again, and they hurried past the stump into the tangles of a thick vine.

  Pibbin hopped up onto one of the vine’s branches, and Leeper did too.

  Alix set Duffy down and patted him all over. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Nope,” Duffy said. “He gave me pine-seed candy.”

  “Did he let you run loose?” Alix asked.

  “Not really. He didn’t tie me very tight and I chewed through his ropes. Then I explored, and I saw all his traps.”

  Pibbin nodded. “That’s when you saw me?”

  “Yes,” Duffy said. “Nisk caught me in there. Then he shouted after you.”

  Alix said, “So he put you in the can?”

  “He looked kind of worried when he pushed me into it,” Duffy said. “He was talking to himself, too. I think he’s a little crazy.”

  Alix growled. “More than a little crazy.”

  Far away, the voice rose again. “No—oh—no! No, no! Help. Help!”

  Pibbin hopped down to a lower branch. “What if he’s hurt?”

  “Serves him right,” Alix said.

  Duffy looked up at his brother. “He’s not a really bad squirrel, even if he talks funny. He told me some stories.”

  Pibbin curled his toes around the branch.

  He thought about the dark tunnel, and the grumpy old squirrel who might be hurt, and what it would feel like to be alone and hurt.

  He knew what he should do, and it made him shiver.

  Alix said, “I’ve got to get Duffy back to Mom, you know.”

  “Right,” Pibbin said. “That’s important.”

  He jumped to the ground. “I’ll just take a quick look at Nisk and make sure he’s not bleeding or something.”

  Alix gave him a nod and slipped away under the vine.

  Pibbin hopped slowly toward the tunnel, and Leeper’s voice followed him.

  “I’m coming too, pal.”

  Stuck

  It was hard to turn away from the moonlight and plunge back into the dark tunnel. Too
many bad things had already happened here.

  The shrieking grew louder and louder. They rounded a curve in the tunnel and stopped..

  A squirrel was crouched under the bottom edge of a large gate made of woven branches.

  His eyes were closed, and he was shouting, “Help! Help! Help somebody!”

  Pibbin looked him over. He’d never seen a squirrel so big and so red. And this one was wearing a red-spotted bow tie.

  “No—oh—no! Help! Help! Help!” the squirrel cried.

  Leeper hopped up to him and shouted. “Okay! We came to help. Just stop the noise.”

  The squirrel opened his eyes and slowly turned his head.

  “You do how, spotted frog?” he said. “Nisk is my name. We not have met, I think.”

  “You’re sure right about that,” Leeper said. “Are you stuck?”

  Nisk groaned. “Asks the spotted frog, are you stuck.”

  He gazed at Pibbin. “Another hopper, I see. Green pretty are you, kind sir. Tell please your friend that to enjoy the view I am not here.”

  He glanced up at the roof. “But is tunnel marvelous, I say. Think you, is it quite clever?”

  “Very clever,” Pibbin said.

  He hopped to where the gate had fallen across Nisk’s body. “It’s just your tail that’s stuck. Can’t you pull it out?”

  “Tail! Beautiful tail of mine! Heavy is gate. My tail it will ruin!”

  “I don’t think so,” Pibbin said. “It might end up a little bent, but—”

  “No!” Nisk let out a cry, as if his tail had been chopped off. “Please! Up lift it! Up lift the gate!”

  Leeper had hopped over to look at the gate too. “How? It’s too heavy for us to lift.”

  Nisk stopped groaning. “Worry not, spotted frog. A way I will tell you.” He sighed. “Wrong posts, and fixed I should have, before I went out.”

  Pibbin glanced at him. “You were making another trap? Why? Why all the traps?”

  “Not traps. Surprises,” Nisk said. “For that she-squirrel. Selfish and terrible. In case to rob me she comes. Like tonight.”

  He started groaning again. “Robbers I heard. Them I chased, and down came my gate.”

  “I see that,” Leeper said. “How do we get it off you?”

  Nisk waved a paw. “Over there look. The saw from smart frog. Most kindly that frog, to let it use me.”

  Leeper picked up the saw, which looked like one of Carpenter’s saws.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Up there, those sinkers. Onto the top, tied you see?”

  Leeper frowned. “Sinkers? Oh, those gray lumps of metal?”

  “Yes,” Nisk said. “Sinkers, my daddy called them. In water we find, with thin string. In the lily pads they grow.”

  Leeper studied the two sinkers tied to the top edge of the gate.

  He looked at the logs that stood like posts at each end of the gate.

  “So those posts hold it in place, and the sinkers make it heavy?” he said.

  “Exactly!” Nisk smiled, and Pibbin couldn’t help seeing that his front teeth were very large.

  “Are there any posts on the other side of the gate?” Leeper asked.

  “Not yet,” Nisk said, looking unhappy.

  “So—if we cut down the sinkers, the gate will fall backward?”

  “Clever you are!” Nisk said. “Like me! My wonderful tunnels I have many, and show you around I could?”

  “Sure,” Leeper said. “Sometime.”

  He glanced at Pibbin. “Can you get all the way up there?”

  “I think so,” Pibbin said.

  He took the saw and climbed up one of the posts to the top of the gate.

  “Good,” Leeper said. “What’s he got the sinkers tied on with?”

  “Looks like string.”

  Pibbin crawled across the top of the gate, leaned over, and sawed at the string.

  Soon the sinker dropped with a thump.

  Nisk groaned. “Careful. Hit me almost!”

  Pibbin looked down at Leeper. “Did it?”

  “Missed him by two hops,” Leeper said.

  As soon as Pibbin cut off the other sinker, the gate began to sway.

  He hopped onto a side post, and Leeper jumped against the gate with both feet.

  It swayed, swayed farther, and fell with a soft thud.

  Slowly Nisk turned.

  Even more slowly, he pulled his tail out from under the branches.

  “Oh, my,” he groaned. “Bent, I hope not!”

  He stood up, brushed the leaves off his fur, and set his bow tie straight.

  He fluffed out his tail. “Red so beautiful, don’t think you?” he said.

  “It looks fine,” Leeper said. “Let’s go, Pib.”

  “Wait!” Nisk sounded worried. “So kind, you have been! Repay you, ever how can I?”

  They had already started hopping, but Pibbin turned back to face the big squirrel.

  “Leave Zip alone, okay?” he said. “You’re the one who’s been selfish. I’m going to tell the Bog-Keepers about you.”

  Nisk gave him a look that certainly was grumpy. “But no!—oh!—listen!—”

  He flicked his tail and began muttering, but Pibbin headed down the tunnel with Leeper.

  The sound of Nisk’s voice faded behind them.

  Moonlight still gleamed at the end of the tunnel, and the moss on the stump smelled wonderful, as if beetles lived in it.

  Leeper stopped to eat some small brown beetles, and Pibbin did too.

  He glanced up at the moon. He had missed the deadline for handing out cookie chips, but Duffy was safe, and Zip would be happy again. Alix too!

  “Time for a nap,” Leeper said with a yawn. “You’re right, Pib.”

  “Huh?”

  “The Bog-Keepers,” Leeper said. “They need to hear about what Nisk did.”

  “They helped him before,” Pibbin said. “So I think they’ll know what to do.”

  “Let’s talk to Uncle Dip,” Leeper said.

  He watched a white moth float across the moss and leaned toward it.

  “I was wondering,” Leeper said. “Are you coming to the Cookie Fest?”

  He snapped up the moth. “There’s red-bug cookies, and carrot-beetle cookies, and the star-shaped ones that Ma Chipmunk makes.”

  “Sure,” Pibbin said. The cookies would taste a lot better if he had earned a star, but he would try not to think about that.

  He caught a moth too. “I’ve never seen a flying squirrel.”

  The Fest

  Cookie Fest always began with speeches. Pibbin knew that, and he tried not to wiggle.

  A crowd had gathered on the Dike, and since tonight was also the grand opening for Dip's Bridge, he’d have to listen to a lot of speeches.

  But at the end, everyone would get a small bag of cookies, and it was worth waiting for.

  He and Leeper sat at the front so they wouldn’t miss anything, and Alix joined them.

  First, an old squirrel said how glad he was for the new bridge. Now he could get across the water to pick the biggest and best mushrooms.

  Everyone clapped.

  Then a thin beaver with a fancy tall hat told stories about how Dip's Bridge had been built.

  He talked about how hard Uncle Dip had made them work, and everyone smiled—it was true. The beaver thanked Carpenter Frog for making beautiful beads to decorate the new bridge.

  Next, Ma Chipmunk talked about the cookie chips and “our hard-working youngsters” who had handed them out.

  She called up three mice, six chipmunks, two frogs, and four squirrels. She gave each one a blue star, and everyone cheered.

  She took a long time to thank the many friends and neighbors who had helped to fill the Cookie Box with food and useful things

  A large Green Frog hopped onto a stump and talked about the quiet green pools and many dead trees in Green Swamp. He said the trees had wonderful holes that the new family of flying squirrels would enjoy.

/>   Finally Uncle Dip stood up.

  Pibbin thought about this afternoon, when he and Leeper had talked to him about Nisk.

  The old red squirrel had nodded, as if he understood. “I should have spent more time with Nisk,” he said. “I’ll make sure he gets some help.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Good work,” he said.

  Now Uncle Dip would give a speech too, but his speeches were nice and short.

  “Tonight,” Uncle Dip said, “we welcome our new neighbors. Flora Squirrel has agreed to speak for the flying squirrel family, so I will ask her to come down.”

  Pibbin had been keeping an eye on the flying squirrels gathered high in a tree. Did they really have wings?

  He watched as one of them took a long glide to the lower branches. She had some sort of light-colored fur stretched between her arms and legs, and she seemed to slide on the air.

  She climbed down the tree and bounded over to stand beside Uncle Dip.

  He opened the lid of the Cookie Box. “This is our gift to you and your family,” he said.

  “Thank you so much!” Flora said in a high, sweet voice. She bent to look in the box. “Oh!!”

  She lifted out bags of cookies, small wooden dishes, woven baskets, and jars of jam.

  Her dark eyes sparkled. “How wonderful!”

  She picked up something round and silver. “What a lovely gift! I will hang it in my kitchen, and it will remind us of your great kindness.”

  It was Cheeco’s shiny treasure.

  Pibbin glanced over to the bush where he’d seen Cheeco. The chipmunk was watching Flora, and his smile was as big as hers.

  He nodded at Pibbin, jumped to the ground, and darted away.

  Flora hugged the silver plate, and she said, “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  Everyone cheered.

  Perhaps the speeches were over now.

  Uncle Dip called on two big squirrels to carry the Cookie Box into Green Swamp where the flying squirrels would live.

  A large basket held the cookies for everyone else. Was that next?

  Uncle Dip picked up a sack from behind the basket of cookies, and everyone grew quiet.

  “This has been the best Cookie Fest ever,” he said, “and I want to tell you one more happy thing. The Bog-Keepers have a special award that they give to the members of Friendship Bog who show great courage.”