“I don’t know, Wobar,” Roxie said. We’re still a long way from New Orleans. How would we ever get on one of those barges? They’re moving slowly, but I’m not much of a swimmer. And our suitcase would sink, even if we could swim to one. I don’t see any tied up on the banks of the river.”
Wobar thought a boat of some kind was their only option. They walked along the banks of the river hunting for a boat they could take to New Orleans or at least out to a barge. Roxie had taken off the dress and bonnet and was happy to run on all four legs again.
There was a full moon, and it was almost as bright as day by the river. Finally, they came to a marina with lots of boats. Big ones and little ones. This was their chance.
“We may have to borrow someone’s boat,” said Wobar.
“Borrow?” asked Roxie. “You better not. If you get caught taking someone’s boat, they won’t believe you only wanted to ‘borrow’ it. They’d arrest you for stealing it. Then you’d go to reform school for sure, and we’d never get the silver pipe.”
But Wobar convinced Roxie that it was their only chance. He knew it was wrong to steal a boat, but he would return it after they found the magic pipe. He really would, somehow. He would write it down in his notebook, just to remind himself.
“You hide in the weeds by that tree,” said Wobar “I’ll go down to the dock and look for a boat that isn’t locked up. If anyone comes, send me a silent signal, and I’ll jump in the river and hide under the dock. As soon as I find a boat, I’ll whistle, and you come.”
Wobar strolled down the dock. Each boat he looked at was locked up. It didn’t seem like he had a chance. Just when he was about to give up, he saw a little motorboat near the end of the dock. It was tied with an old rope, and it wasn’t locked up. He climbed in and tried to start the motor. He whistled for Roxie.
Each time he pulled the cord on the outboard, it almost started. But not quite. Roxie arrived and was about to jump into the boat.
“Wait a minute,” Wobar said. “I can’t get it started.” Just then Roxie looked up. Two men were running down the dock, hollering. Wobar pulled again, but the motor still wouldn’t start. They were in real trouble now.
CHAPTER 26
Gunfire!
“WOBAR!” SAID ROXIE. “We’d better get out of here.” The men were fast approaching. Roxie didn’t know how to swim very well, so she only had one choice. She ran right toward them, growling. She thought they would run, but they didn’t. They stopped, and one pulled out a gun.
Bam! A bullet whizzed by Roxie’s head. She turned and leapt off the dock. She quickly sank in the cold water. She swallowed some water on the way down, but pushed off the river bottom and came up, coughing and spluttering. If Wobar didn’t save her, she knew she was a goner. She kicked her legs and tried to keep her head up. The current was pulling her downstream fast, and she couldn’t see Wobar.
Wobar had heard Roxie’s warning, but kept on trying to start the boat. Just as the men arrived, it started! He cut the rope to the dock with his pocketknife and pulled away from the dock. “Stop, thief’!” a man cried.
Bam! A bullet sailed past the boat and splashed into the water. Wobar kept going. Bam! Another bullet, but this one hit the boat. Wobar crouched low in the boat and headed downstream. If only he could get out of range, he would be safe. But where was Roxie?
Bam! Bam! Another bullet hit the boat, and water gushed in. Wobar could tell that in a few minutes the boat would sink.
Bam! This time the bullet wasn’t even close. And that was the sixth bullet. Wobar figured the man would have to reload, so he was safe unless the other man had a gun, too. He would have to take that chance because he had heard Roxie jump into the water. And he knew she couldn’t swim very far.
Wobar turned the boat and headed back toward the shore. He heard the men hollering, but there were no more shots, not for the moment. He studied the surface of the water watching for Roxie. There was no sign of her. Not a splash, not a bubble. She couldn’t have drowned. Not so quickly. He wouldn’t believe that Roxie might already be dead. Had she been shot?
“No, no!” he thought. “It isn’t possible! Roxie can’t be dead! I won’t believe it! No way!”
Just then Wobar saw something. It looked like a paw hanging onto a buoy out in the river. He heard a splash. He gunned the motor and headed downstream toward it.
When Wobar arrived at the channel marker, he let out a big sigh of relief. He had arrived in time to save Roxie. The current had pulled her downstream, and she had just been able to get her claws into the rope holding the buoy. She was very cold and had swallowed a lot of water. In another minute or two, she might have drowned. Wobar stopped the boat next to her. He reached down, grabbed her, and pulled her up into the boat. He was careful not to tip over the boat.
“Are you all right?”
Roxie had swallowed so much water she could barely think. She lay in the bottom of the boat and groaned. She threw up her dinner and a lot of river water in the bottom of the boat, but she was very glad to be alive.
Wobar knew that this boat would never get them to New Orleans or even onto a barge. It was rapidly filling up with water. He stuffed his big red handkerchief in one of the bullet holes, which helped, but it didn’t stop the leak. They would have to go to shore fast, before the boat sank.
Soon the police would be looking for them up and down the riverbank. The Mississippi River must be a mile wide, Wobar thought. The leaking skiff would never make it to the other side. They would have to take their chances on shore nearby or risk drowning. He pointed the boat toward shore, crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best.
CHAPTER 27
The Wooden Crate
WOBAR TURNED OFF the engine of the boat and let the boat glide up to the bank, but it made quite a thunk when it hit the shore. Wobar and Roxie climbed out and scrambled up the bank. The suitcase had gotten wet and was heavier than before.
“Hurry, Roxie. We’ve got to find a place to hide before the police get here.” He heard a siren in the distance.
They were in a neighborhood of factories and warehouses. They ran down the street looking for a place to hide. The sun was just coming up. But everywhere they looked, there were high fences to keep people out. Some even had guard dogs that barked as they ran by. Finally, they came to an empty lot. It was full of old cars, broken bottles, and empty packing crates.
“This is the best we’re going to find,” said Wobar. “We can hide in that big wooden box until the coast is clear. “
They crawled inside the packing crate to wait. It was crowded inside, but at least they were out of sight. Wobar brought the suitcase inside, too, for fear somebody would see it and investigate. Moments later, a police car cruised by.
“That was a close call,” said Roxie. “Another minute on the street, and we would have been caught. But we’re still in a fix. How in the world can we ever get away from here and get to New Orleans?”
“Hmm . . .” wondered Wobar “We can’t take a bus. We can’t take a boat. I won’t try a train again. I guess . . . I guess that means we have to go by plane. “
“But how could we?” asked Roxie. “Someone is sure to spot us. And we probably don’t have enough money anyway.”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about all that, “said Wobar, “But still, there must be a way to get on a plane. It’s our only chance.“
Wobar racked his brains trying to figure out how they could disguise themselves to get on a plane. Finally, he said, “I’ve got it! This packing crate gives me an idea. We’ll hide inside this crate and have it sent by airfreight to New Orleans. When we get there, we’ll jump out and run away!”
Wobar realized that his plan wouldn’t be easy to carry out. “As soon as stores open, I’ll have to buy some supplies,” he said. “We’ll need a hammer, nails, and a saw to fix up this crate. And a pair of hinges so we can fix a door to get out, some screws, a screwdriver, and a latch. Then paint and a little brush to put an address in New
Orleans. I suppose we’d better get some food, too. I don’t know how long we’ll be trapped inside.”
“Don’t forget to buy some paint for me,” said Roxie. “I’ll need a disguise once we get to New Orleans.”
At eight o’clock that morning, Wobar left Roxie hiding in the box and hurried into town to find a hardware store. He kept his hat pulled down and hoped that no one would recognize him from the newspaper photo. In some ways he wished he could get rid of his mustache—he was afraid it would give him away. But it hurt so much when he’d had to cut it off before. Even with scissors, he felt every hair being cut. it was almost as If he were cutting off his fingers. And besides, he wouldn’t feel like Wobar without his mustache.
Nobody seemed to take any notice of Wobar when he went into the hardware store. He quickly found everything he needed, paid for it, and left. After a stop at a grocery store for food, he headed back to his hiding place. Roxie was there, waiting anxiously.
“Did you get everything?” she asked.
“Yes. and I’m glad you reminded me about your paint. Let’s get you in disguise again.”
Quickly, Wobar painted Roxie to look like a Dalmatian dog. Then they waited inside the crate for the rest of the day. Wobar didn’t dare begin working on their crate until after dark because someone might see him and call the police.
Even though it was cramped inside the crate, they were able to get some sleep. The events of the last twenty-four hours had left them very tired. After Wobar awoke in the late afternoon, he spent his time trying to figure out how he would get the crate on a plane to New Orleans. It wouldn’t be easy.
CHAPTER 28
Acme Air Freight
IT WAS ALMOST five o’clock when Wobar left the crate and walked down the street to find a telephone. He went to three phone booths before he found one that worked and had a phone book. He thumbed through the yellow pages, found what he wanted, put in a quarter, and dialed.
“Acme air Freight,” said a gruff voice at the other end.
“Hello, my name is Bob Johnson,” said Wobar, trying to make his voice sound grown-up. “I’ve got a furniture factory down on River Street. I have a crate I need sent airfreight to New Orleans right away.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late to do anything today,” said the clerk at Acme Air Freight,” but we could pick it up first thing in the morning. Where are you located?”
“My factory is at 59 River Street,” said Wobar. “Tomorrow is Saturday, and the factory will be closed. I could leave it on the sidewalk out front.”
“It’s your risk, buddy. Somebody might steal it during the night. But if you want, we’ll pick it up first thing tomorrow morning. You say you’re at 59 River Street?”
“That’s right. Johnson Furniture Factory. I want it rushed to New Orleans. It must arrive tomorrow. They’ll pay the freight charges down there.”
“Right-o. We’ll take care of it. It’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Nice doing business with you. Bye.”
Wobar hung up and hurried back to tell Roxie the good news. “It worked! They’ll pick up the crate first thing tomorrow morning. I’d better get right to work.”
Wobar found some boards in the empty lot to fix up the crate. He cut them to size with his new saw. He knew it would have to be solid so it wouldn’t break open during the trip. One whole side of the crate was missing, but he soon had it repaired. He put hinges on the inside where nobody could see them and attached a latch inside to keep it closed. When he was done, it looked like a regular packing crate. It would be almost impossible to see the hidden door.
“What are you going to do about an address?” asked Roxie. “Don’t you need to send it to someone down there? Someone who will pick it up and pay for the shipping?”
“I suppose so. But I’ll just put a fake address on it. If Johnson Furniture Factory is on River Street here, I’ll address it to Johnson Furniture Factory on River Street there. We’ll just give it a different street number. Once we arrive at the airport in New Orleans, we’ll climb out and run away before anybody discovers our trick.”
Wobar used a small paintbrush and carefully lettered an address on the side. Johnson Furniture Factory, 237 River Street, New Orleans. Then he painted Fragile, Do Not Drop, Handle With Care, and This Side Up. The last was the most important. He didn’t want to be upside down all the way to New Orleans. That wouldn’t be fun at all.
During the night, Wobar dozed off from time to time, but he was too excited to really sleep. If all went well, they’d finally be in New Orleans the next day. Then he could try to find the magic pipe. Maybe their adventure would soon be over. He wished he could look in a crystal ball to see the future. Would they find the magic pipe? Would he and Roxie ever get back to Woodstown? Would he be forgiven for running away if he found the pipe? He dozed off dreaming of his family.
Just before dawn, Roxie gave him a nudge. “We’d better get ready,” she said. “We should get this crate onto the sidewalk before it gets light.”
With Roxie pushing and Wobar pulling, they managed to get the crate across the vacant lot and onto the sidewalk. They put it in front of Johnson Furniture Factory and climbed inside to wait. Wobar closed the door and turned the latch.
They waited. The sun came up. They waited. Three hours passed, and still no one came. Wobar worried. What if the people from Acme air Freight didn’t come? and if they did come, what would happen on the plane? Would he and Roxie freeze in the cargo hold of the plane? Would there be enough air? He knew that dogs were often shipped by plane, so he thought they should be all right.
Just as Wobar was about to change his mind about flying to New Orleans, he heard a truck pull up.
“Okay, Max, this must be it. One crate from Johnson Furniture Factory for shipment to New Orleans. Let’s get it on the truck.”
There was no choice. Wobar and Roxie were on their way to New Orleans.
CHAPTER 29
Landed at Last
WOBAR AND ROXIE bounced around inside their crate as the truck lurched and bumped down River Street and toward the airport. Wobar banged his head against the crate several times. Roxie felt sick to her stomach, but she didn’t throw up. Finally the truck came to a stop. They had arrived at the airport.
Wobar couldn’t see much, but he tried to watch what was going on through the crack he’d left between two boards. Their crate was unloaded by a forklift truck and left on a platform. They waited for a couple of hours, but nothing happened. He and Roxie ate three packages of Twinkies and waited some more. Wobar’s mother didn’t let him eat junk food, but this was different. They needed a quick snack to hold off their hunger.
“What happens if they don’t send us to New Orleans today, Wobar?” asked Roxie.
“They have to send this crate today,” he said. “They promised.” Tomorrow was Sunday. They couldn’t stay in the crate until Monday—they didn’t have enough food and water. He doubted that Acme air Freight worked on Sundays. So they would just have to hope that something happened today.
“Maybe I should get out and see what’s going on,” he said.
“No, please don’t go,” Said Roxie. “With my luck, they’d probably take the crate as soon as you left. Then I’d be sent to New Orleans by myself. And I couldn’t operate the latch on the crate myself. Claws don’t work like fingers, you know.”
So Roxie and Wobar waited some more. Just when they were about to give up hope, they heard someone coming.
“That’s the one. Hurry up. It’s supposed to go on Gulf Airways flight 603. Take off in thirty minutes,” said a voice. With a jolt, their crate was lifted up and put on a cart. Moments later, they were moving up a ramp and into the belly of the plane.
The trip to New Orleans was truly horrible. They must have flown through a thunderstorm because the plane bounced up and down violently. It was cold and dark. Roxie got airsick and threw up. Fortunately, Wobar thought to bring a barf bag for her, as he knew she got sick easily. Wobar didn’t feel very good, either, esp
ecially after Roxie threw up. It seemed like forever, but finally they landed. They were in New Orleans!
The crate was unloaded and sent to the freight terminal. It was nighttime, and Wobar hoped that everybody would go home soon. Then they could escape. But he heard people talking and forklift trucks buzzing around, so they had to wait. Wobar really wanted to get out and stretch his legs.
Finally, everything went quiet. Wobar undid the latch and carefully opened the door. The wood scraped against the floor with a scratching noise that sounded very loud to him. The lights were turned off. He looked around. No one was in sight. Wobar crept out and stood up.
“Come on, Roxie,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Roxie didn’t need a second invitation. She was as glad as Wobar to get out of their little jail. They snuck around the darkened warehouse looking for a way out. They came to a big sliding door. Wobar listened but heard nothing on the other side, so he pushed on the door, trying to slide it. Nothing happened. He put all his weight on it. No go. It was locked.
“I’m afraid we’re locked inside until Monday,” said Wobar.
“Wait a minute,” whispered Roxie. “I smell fresh air. There must be a window open somewhere.”
Roxie followed her nose, and sure enough, there was a window open. Wobar pushed a crate over to it and climbed up. He peeked out. Nobody was in sight. The window was pretty high off the ground, but there was a grassy lawn below. They waited a few minutes, then he dropped the suitcase out.
Roxie jumped first and landed safely. Wobar hesitated. He sat on the windowsill. What if he broke his leg jumping down? But he didn’t really have a choice. He jumped.
“Ow!” he said out loud, in spite of himself. He had twisted his ankle when he landed, and it really hurt. But they couldn’t waste time. He stood up.
Wobar and the Quest for the Magic Calumet Page 7