“Okay, big guy,” Rocky said, alert and focused as he came to stand at Max’s side. “Boy, that was fun, though!”
“Yeah,” Gizmo said softly as she joined them, her tail drooping. “It was nice to play for just a little bit.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to play once we find our families,” Max said. “Let’s see if Stripes has located Spots.”
Max leaped down from the caboose onto the gravel, Rocky and Gizmo behind him. Stripes was already making her way across the back lawn toward the tiny town.
“Hello in there!” Stripes called out as she waddled toward the mock saloon. “Has anyone seen Spots?”
As Max and his friends followed Stripes into the miniature town, a small dog emerged from the swinging doors of the saloon.
He had a pert muzzle and especially long ears that dangled below his snout. His long, sleek fur was white with orange splotches, with darker fur on his ears and around his eyes, and a white stripe running from his forehead to his nose. Though he was little more than a foot tall—the same height as Gizmo—the dog was as big as he was going to get.
The dog was a breed with the impressive name of Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Max had met several at the kennel. This one had a bright blue handkerchief tied around his neck.
The Cavalier Spaniel cocked his head, his long, fluffy tail wagging slowly and warily. “What can I do you for, Stripes? I trust these newcomers are friendly?”
“Howdy, Chuck.” The skunk nodded her small head at the dog, then sat at the foot of the small saloon’s narrow steps. “And yup, these three are all right. We’re looking for Spots. You seen him around?”
Chuck sniffed. “I smell him, but I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Raising his snout, the Cavalier Spaniel howled, “Attention, citizens! Anyone seen Spots? No need to keep hiding; Stripes says the new folk are safe.”
At this, Max, Rocky, and Gizmo looked around. Slowly, the doors on the other buildings opened and the heads of several small animals peeked out. A fleecy white kitten emerged from the grocery, shaking her head. Two puppies, mixed breeds with shaggy brown-and-black fur, crawled out of the sheriff’s office. “Haven’t seen him,” they yipped.
“Aw!” Gizmo whispered. “Look at the puppies. So cute!”
A thump sounded behind them, and everyone turned to see the small raccoon crouched on the building with the steeple, examining her tiny fingers.
“Oh, great,” Rocky muttered. “She’s back.”
Ignoring Rocky, the Silver Bandit drawled, “I’ve seen the Train Dog. I can’t believe you missed him. He’s supereasy to find.”
“Hi, Tiffany!” the kitten mewed from the grocery store. “Do you want any vegetables? I have lots and lots and lots.”
“Not now, Snow,” Tiffany said with a scornful hiss. “I don’t have time to play.”
“We don’t want to play with her, anyway,” one of the mutt puppies—a girl—said with a growl.
“But Regina, you said you hoped she’d come play thieves and hunters,” her brother said with a cocked head.
Regina nipped at him. “No, I did not, Rufus.”
“But—”
Regina leaped at him and wrestled him down on the porch. “Stop lying. We don’t play with rude animals like Tiffany!”
Chuck, the Cavalier Spaniel, barked loudly. “Citizens! We’ve got newcomers in town. Behave!”
The two puppies untangled themselves, their ears drooping. “Yes, Chuck,” they said in unison.
Tiffany examined her small hands. “Baby animals can be so embarrassing. Not like me. I’m wonderful.”
Chuck groaned. “Good luck with her!” he said, turning to go back into his saloon.
“Have you really seen Spots?” Max asked the little raccoon.
“Sure!” Tiffany said. “He’s in the museum. Obviously.”
Stripes fluffed out her tail. “I suppose it can’t hurt to take a look.”
Leaving the miniature town behind, Max, Rocky, and Gizmo followed Stripes to the back of the main building. Max heard a rustling and looked to see Tiffany darting toward the giant locomotive. Trailing her were the kitten and the two puppies.
Turning away, Max followed Stripes onto the concrete path. The midday sunlight streamed through the dusty windows in the back of the museum. Inside, Max saw a large open space filled with model train sets, conductors’ uniforms, and framed black-and-white photos of men posing in front of steam engines.
“Hello?” Stripes called out. “Spots? It’s me. Are you in there?”
“Noooo!” a voice howled from inside, so loud the windows rattled. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to see anyone!”
Stripes waddled forward, then jumped up to press her paws against the windowpane. “But Spots, I have dogs here who have questions about the wall. They need—”
“They need a swift ride out of town on one of my trains!” the dog howled. “If any of you mutts tries to come in here, I swear I’ll send you full steam ahead right off a cliff!”
“Yeesh,” Rocky muttered. “You weren’t kidding about the Train Dog being unfriendly.”
“He doesn’t mean it,” Stripes said softly as she lowered herself to the ground, leaving tiny paw prints on the window. “Like I said, he just hasn’t been the same since his visit to the wall. It… changed him.”
“Maybe if we just talk to him, he’ll want to help,” Gizmo said. “It can’t hurt to try, right?”
“Maybe,” Stripes said with a frown. “But whenever Spots goes to the museum, he locks himself in. We have no way to get inside.”
Someone cleared her throat, and Max looked up to find Tiffany draped atop the red tile roof, swishing her ringed tail.
“Oh, that’s not true,” said the devious little raccoon. “You just need someone nimble and clever to get inside. Someone like me.”
CHAPTER 12
SNEAKING IN
The three dogs heard meowing and yipping, and they turned to see the kitten and the two puppies peeking up over the edge of the concrete path.
“Tiffany’s not allowed in there, is she?” Rufus asked Stripes.
“Like she cares,” Regina said with a growl. “She’s a bad, bad animal.”
Snow snapped her tail. “Can I go in with you, Tiffany?”
Tiffany sighed. “No, you can’t. Stop following me.”
Max wagged his tail, looking up at Tiffany. “Would you really go inside for us?” he asked the little raccoon.
Tiffany gripped the edge of the roof with her front paws and swished her head back and forth. “Nope!” she said. “You dumb dogs never believed me when I warned you about Stripes. So why should I help you now?”
For a moment, Max felt defeated, but then he saw a spark in Gizmo’s eyes—she had a plan, Max could tell.
Gizmo sat next to Max and lowered her head. “You know, you’re right,” she said sweetly. “We should never have doubted you, Silver Bandit. It’s a wonder it was only Stripes and Spots we heard stories about and not you.”
Rocky looked at Max as if to say, What is Gizmo doing? Max motioned for Rocky to keep quiet.
Leaping to her feet, Gizmo wagged her tail into a blur. “I know!” she barked.
Startled by Gizmo’s sudden motion, the raccoon let go of the roof’s edge. “You know what?”
Gizmo spun in an excited circle. “We can be the ones to tell the world how wonderful and amazing you are! I bet animals would come from miles around to see you outrun wild cats and leap between trees.”
“Oh, brother,” Rocky muttered.
Lashing out with her hind leg, Gizmo nudged Rocky on his snout.
Clearing his throat, Rocky jumped up and down. “I mean, oh, brother! Gizmo sure is right! Except…” He dropped to all fours, tail tucked between his legs. “We can’t move on until we know where the wall is, and Spots is the only one who can help us.”
Gizmo sighed. “It is quite the problem.”
Stripes waddled away from the museum windows to stand next to Max.
Whispering to him, she asked, “What are these two going on about?”
Max said quietly, “Just wait and see.”
Up above, Tiffany flopped onto her belly and slapped her tiny hands against the tile. “So,” she said, “what exactly would you tell folks about me?”
Gizmo gazed dreamily off into the distance. “Oh, what wouldn’t we say? The Silver Bandit may look adorable, but don’t you dare cross her. She’s swift and silent, moving through the night like… like a streak of molten moonlight!”
The young raccoon’s ears perked up. “Ooh, I like that.”
Rufus the puppy barked wildly, “The Silver Bandit sounds great!” The puppies yipped and ran in excited circles while the kitten rolled onto her back and swatted at the air.
“Who knew you had someone so famous in your small town?” Gizmo said to the baby animals.
“I’d love to tell the whole world that the Silver Bandit is a master at breaking human locks to boldly go where no other animal has gone before, but—” Rocky pointed his snout at the glass double doors to the museum. “Well, we haven’t seen her do that yet.”
Tiffany swished her tail. “You don’t think I can?”
“Of course we do!” Gizmo barked up at her. “It’s just, if we could see it for ourselves, it would give us another story to share.”
Rocky wagged his tail. “It’s all in the details.”
Max watched in awe as Tiffany scratched the underside of her muzzle, then slowly nodded her head. “True, true.”
“Do it, Silver Bandit!” Rufus howled.
Dropping to all fours on the roof, Tiffany said, “All right, I’ll do it! But only if you three dogs promise to tell everyone you meet about me.”
“We promise,” Gizmo said.
“Most definitely,” Rocky said.
Tiffany pointed a finger at Max. “What about you? You’re awfully quiet.”
Max wagged his tail. “I’m just amazed by your talent, Silver Bandit. I would be proud to spread word of your accomplishments all over the world.”
“Excellent!” the raccoon squealed. “Now watch as a master thief goes to work!”
With a running start, Tiffany jumped from the museum’s roof to the open second-story window on the main building. She landed lightly on the sill, looked to make sure the dogs were watching, and then leaped into the darkness. The two puppies and the kitten cheered.
“You all laid it on pretty thick,” Stripes said as she padded to the glass doors.
“Yeah,” Rocky said, “sometimes you gotta slather them up good and gooey, even if you’d really rather chase them up a tree. Usually that’s my job, but it seems our friend Gizmo picked up some new tricks.”
Gizmo licked Rocky affectionately. “I learned from the best!”
Max, Rocky, Gizmo, and Stripes sat in front of the glass double doors, waiting, the puppies and kitten behind them. Beyond the dusty glass, they could see the museum interior with its iron-and-wood benches, displays, and a rack of postcards on a cashier’s desk.
What they couldn’t see was Tiffany.
But they could hear her.
The sound of her claws scrabbling over the wooden floors echoed through the museum, followed by a thump, a squeal, then a series of loud thuds.
“Who put those boxes there?” Tiffany’s voice said from inside.
Baring his teeth, Rocky asked, “What is she doing?”
Stripes sighed. “She’s just being Tiffany.”
Little Rufus nipped at Stripes’s side. “It’s the Silver Bandit now,” he said indignantly.
Gizmo pressed her face up against the glass. When she couldn’t see anything, she stepped back, leaving a wet nose print and feathery wisps where her bushy fur had brushed away the dust.
“Can anyone see her yet?” Gizmo wagged her tail at the baby animals. “How about you? You must have sharp eyes.”
Inside the walls, a pipe groaned, and Max could just make out Tiffany’s shadow as she landed on a drinking fountain, one paw on the button as the other lifted handfuls of water up to her snout.
“There!” the kitten yowled. “I see her!”
Max raised a paw and slapped it twice against the door. The shadowy figure that was Tiffany jerked up her head in surprise.
“Can you open the door yet, Silver Bandit?” Max barked.
Tiffany waved a paw at him, then returned to drinking from the fountain.
Max turned to Stripes. “She sure is making a lot of noise in there. Why isn’t Spots after her?”
“He’s gone back to sleep, I suppose,” Stripes said. “That’s all he does these days—goes to the museum and sleeps. I think that’s how he avoids thinking about Dots and his missing human family.”
Gizmo nudged Max’s leg. “Hey! She’s on the move again.”
All seven animals peered through the murky glass doors, watching as the tiny shadow that was Tiffany scrabbled up a big metal pipe that ran up the front wall and connected with a yellow box. There were multicolored bulbs attached to the box and levers and buttons built into the face.
“What is she doing?” Max asked Stripes.
Stripes swished her bushy tail. “I have no idea.”
Tiffany jumped onto the box, landing with a metallic clang. Then she examined a stack of square items that looked to be made of cloth. Standing on tiptoes, she reached as high as she could, squeezing the topmost item in her hand—and sent the entire stack tumbling off the yellow box.
“Whoa!” Tiffany cried.
As the dogs watched, she pinwheeled her arms while the items rained down to the floor below. Unable to keep her balance, the raccoon fell backward through the air, squealing.
The cloth items and Tiffany landed hard on a stack of red-and-gold boxes that contained replicas of train cars. The shiny boxes cascaded to the floor, carrying Tiffany with them and burying her underneath. The noise was tremendous, echoing through the two-story room like blasts from a cannon.
The commotion kicked up a cloud of dust, shrouding the room in shadow.
“She fell!” Regina cried.
Gizmo looked at Max, worried. “Do you think she’s all right?”
Max didn’t have to answer. A moment later, a gray face with masked eyes popped up from the rubble. Tiffany scrunched her snout and sneezed, then wriggled her shoulders and backside until she was free.
Next, as everyone watched in bewilderment, she dove headfirst into the pile of boxes, and for a moment all they could see was her ringed tail and back paws.
When she emerged once more, she had one of the cloth items from the yellow box propped squarely on her head. It was a pale blue striped hat, just like those the conductors wore in the photographs on the museum’s walls.
Her hat in place, Tiffany bounded off the mountain of train boxes and waddled confidently toward the glass double doors.
Rocky scratched at the glass. “What was that all about?” he barked.
A few feet from the door, Tiffany sat back on her haunches and pointed at the hat with both hands.
“I got the hat!” she squeaked, her voice muffled by the walls.
“I see that,” Gizmo said, barking loudly enough for Tiffany to hear. “You look very nice.”
Tiffany waved a dismissive paw. “It’s not about looking nice. It’s a disguise! This way, if Spots sees me opening the door, he’ll just assume I’m a human and leave me alone.” She clapped her hands together. “Brilliant, right?”
Rocky’s whole body trembled and his jaw hung open. “A disguise?” he sputtered. “After you made all that noise?”
Max leaned down and nudged Rocky. “Don’t scare her off now,” he whispered.
Gizmo offered Tiffany a wag of her tail. “Um, very… smart of you. So, do you think you can open the door?”
“Of course!” Tiffany said. “Now, watch carefully; you don’t want to get the details wrong when—”
“What in tarnation is going on in here?” a voice bellowed.
Max jerked in surprise, then looked
over Tiffany’s head to see a big, shadowy figure looming behind her in the dark museum.
The animal padded forward into the beams of light streaming down from the high windows. He was a big dog, slightly larger than Max, with a broad, muscular chest; a long, wide snout; and two black, drooping ears. His coat was sleek and shiny, a mix of mottled white and black that seemed almost blue in the afternoon light.
It was Spots, the Train Dog.
Tiffany slowly turned from the door to face Spots. She offered a wave of her small paw.
Spots went wide-eyed at the sight of her, backing away in horror. “No!” he howled. “How dare you!”
“How dare I what?” Tiffany asked.
The coonhound reared back on his hind legs, then landed with a hard thud. “You are not an official rail-system employee! Take off that hat this instant!”
Tiffany clutched the hat and pulled it down between her ears. “Never! I need it for my disguise!”
Spots stamped a front paw. “Those hats are for conductors only. All you’ve ever conducted is trouble.”
“Lies!” Tiffany squealed, clearly outraged. “I once conducted a whole herd of trains across the woods. I’m a master conductor!”
Growling, Spots lunged at the raccoon, but she was too quick, and his jaws clamped onto empty air as Tiffany scrambled away from the doors.
Barking madly, Spots gave chase, nearly slipping on the wooden floor, chasing Tiffany behind the display cases.
“Aah!” Rufus yelped, backing away from the door.
“He’s gonna be so mad,” Snow yowled.
“Gotta hide!” Regina barked, already bounding off on the path toward the town.
In a flash, the three frightened baby animals were gone.
Rocky backed away from the doors, tail tucked. “This is getting crazier by the minute. Maybe we should just try to find the wall on our own.”
“Don’t give up on Spots,” Stripes said. “He’s a good dog, I promise. He’s just a little rough on the outside.”
From inside the museum came a great crash, then a tinkling of glass shards across the floor. Max could see Tiffany’s shadow as she leaped onto the cashier’s desk, knocking the postcard holder into Spots’s path.
Journey's End Page 9