انتقام کوتوله های حیاط فصل 03

Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes - Chapter 3

“M-Miiindy,” I moaned.

Moose pulled his hands from my throat and lifted his powerful body off my chest.

“What did you do to him—you big monster?” Mindy shrieked. She knelt down by my side and bent over me. She brushed my hair from my eyes.

“Y-you’re a… a…” I stopped and coughed weakly.

“What, Joe? What is it?” Mindy demanded softly.

“You’re a SUCKER!” I exclaimed. And burst out laughing.

Mindy jerked her head back. “You little weasel!”

“Tricked you! Tricked you!” I cheered.

“Way to go, dude!” Moose grinned.

I scrambled to my feet and slapped Moose a high five. “Suc-ker! Suc-ker!” we chanted over and over.

Mindy folded her skinny arms in front of her and glared at us. “Not funny,” she snapped. “I’m never going to believe another word you say! Never!” “Oh, I’m sooooo scared!” I said. I knocked my knees together. “See? My knees are trembling.” “I’m shaking, too,” Moose joined in, wiggling his whole body.

“You guys are totally juvenile,” she announced. “I’m out of here.” She slid her hands into the pockets of her white shorts and stomped away. But then she suddenly stopped a few feet from the stairs.

In front of the high basement window.

The window that looked out onto Mr. McCall’s front yard.

She stared up through the window’s sheer white curtain for a second. She squinted her eyes. Then she cried out, “No! Oh, no!” “Nice try,” I replied, flicking a dust ball from the carpet in her direction. “There’s nothing out there. I’m not falling for your lame trick!” “No! It’s Buster!” Mindy cried. “He’s next door again!”

“Huh?” I sprinted to the window. And jumped onto a chair. I yanked the filmy curtain aside.

Yes. There sat Buster. In the middle of the vegetable patch that covered Mr. McCall’s front yard. “Oh, wow. He’s in the garden again,” I murmured.

“My garden! He’d better not be!” Moose declared, stomping up behind me. He shoved me off the chair to take a look. “If my dad catches Buster in his vegetables, he’ll turn that big mutt into mulch!” “Come on! Hurry!” Mindy pleaded, tugging on my arm. “We have to get Buster out of there. Right away. Before Moose’s dad catches him!” Moose, Mindy, and I raced upstairs and out the front door. We charged across our front lawn, toward the McCalls’ house.

At the edge of our lawn, we leaped across the line of yellow and white petunias that Dad had planted. It separates our yard from the McCalls’ garden.

Mindy squeezed her fingernails deep into my arm. “Buster’s digging!” she cried. “He’s going to destroy—the melons!” Buster’s powerful front paws worked hard. He scraped at the dirt and green plants. Mud and leaves flew everywhere.

“Stop that, Buster!” Mindy pleaded. “Stop that—now!”

Buster kept digging.

Moose glanced at his plastic wristwatch. “You’d better get that dog out of there fast,” he warned. “It’s almost six o’clock. My dad comes out to water the garden at six sharp.” I’m terrified of Mr. McCall. I admit it. He’s so big, he makes Moose look like a shrimp! And he’s mean.

“Buster, get over here!” I begged. Mindy and I both shouted to the dog.

But Buster ignored our cries.

“Don’t just stand there. Why don’t you pull that dumb mutt out of there?” Moose demanded.

I shook my head. “We can’t! He’s too big. And stubborn. He won’t budge.” I reached under my T-shirt and searched for the shiny metal dog whistle I wear on a cord around my neck. I wear it day and night. Even under my pajamas. It’s the only thing Buster will obey.

“It’s two minutes to six,” Moose warned, checking his watch. “Dad will be out here any second!” “Blow the whistle, Joe!” Mindy cried.

I brought the whistle up to my mouth. And gave a long, hard blow.

Moose snickered. “That whistle’s broken,” he said. “It didn’t make a sound.” “It’s a dog whistle,” Mindy replied in a superior tone. “It makes a really high-pitched sound. Dogs can hear them, but people can’t. See?” She pointed to Buster. He had lifted his nose out of the dirt and pricked up his ears.

I blew the whistle again. Buster shook the dirt from his fur.

“Thirty seconds and counting,” Moose told us.

I blew the silent dog whistle one more time.

Yes!

Buster came trotting slowly toward us, wagging his stumpy tail.

“Hurry, Buster!” I pleaded. “Hurry!” I held my arms open wide.

“Buster—run—don’t trot!” Mindy begged.

Too late.

We heard a loud slam.

Moose’s front door flew open.

And Mr. McCall stepped out.