Four Mice Deep Jungle Read online

  Dear mouse friends,

  Welcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’S GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  mouse; editor of

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Thea Stilton

  Geronimo’s sister and

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  An awful joker;

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  owner of the store

  Cheap Junk for Less

  Benjamin Stilton

  A sweet and loving

  nine-year-old mouse;

  Geronimo’s favorite

  nephew

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  www.atlantyca.com.

  eISBN 978-0-545-39167-2

  Copyright © 2000 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2004 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Quattro topi nella giungla nera

  Original cover by Matt Wolf, revised by Larry Keys

  Illustrations by Merenguita Gingermouse and Marina Bonanni

  Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi

  Cover design by Ursula Albano

  Interior layout by Kay Petronio

  First printing, March 2004

  I was lying on the psychiatrist’s

  couch

  . It was made of soft, fluffy cat fur. But

  I wasn’t very comfortable. I was worried.

  “How serious is it, Dr. Shrinkfur?” I

  murmured, chewing my whiskers.

  The doctor leaned back in his chair. “Ach,

  first I haff to know more,” he

  squeaked in his funny accent.

  “Vhen did zis thing start?”

  I sighed. I was never the

  bravest mouse on the block.

  In fact, I guess you could say

  I’ve always been a bit of a ’fraidy mouse.

  I’ve never enjoyed spooky holidays like

  Halloween. I hide in my mouse hole on the

  HOW SERIOUS IS IT,

  DR. SHRINKFUR?

  1

  Boo!

  Fourth of July. Fireworks make me nervous.

  But lately, it seemed like everything was

  making me jumpy. “Well, at first I was only

  afraid to go to the dentist, but then I

  suddenly became afraid of

  ELEVATORS

  .

  Then came the fear of flying. That

  was followed by a fear of spiders,

  snakes, closed spaces, and crowds.

  After that I became afraid of heights

  and the dark.” I took a deep breath. Just

  talking about all of my fears was making me

  afraid! “Oh, yes, I almost forgot, Doctor,” I

  added. “I’m also afraid of cats!”

  Dr. Shrinkfur waved his paw.

  “You are a mouse, you haff to be afraid of

  cats!” he said.

  I TWIRLED MY TAIL NERVOUSLY Then I sat

  up. “Please, Dr. Shrinkfur,” I squeaked.

  “Give it to me straight.”

  He shook his head solemnly. “Vell, zis

  could be serious,” he began. “Or it could

  not be. Zis is up to you!”

  I scratched my head. “Well, is the cure

  going to take long?” I asked.

  The doctor jotted down some notes on a

  pad. “Vell, it could be long,” he said. “Or it

  could not be long. Zis is up to you!”

  Now I was confused. If everything was up

  to me, what was I paying the most famous

  psychoanalyst in New Mouse City to do?

  “Will this treatment be expensive?” I asked.

  “

  H

  o

  w

  s

  e

  r

  i

  o

  u

  s

  i

  s

  i

  t

  ?

  ”

  The doctor stood up. “Vell, it could be

  expensive,” he said. “Or it could not be. Zis

  is up to you!”

  This rodent was beginning to sound like a

  broken record. Just then, he put his paw on

  my shoulder. “Remember, zis is all up to

  you!” he repeated. “You must FACE YOUR

  fears

  . Othervise you vill never get vell. I vill

  see you next Vednesday. For now, it vill be

  vone hundred dollars. Thank you.”

  I left Dr. Shrinkfur’s office feeling much

  lighter. That’s because my wallet was

  completely empty!

  Well, if the

  most famous

  psychoanalyst

  in NEW MOUSE CITY

  said it was up to me to get

  well, then I guess it was!

  I

  l

  e

  f

  t

  D

  r

  .

  S

  h

  r

  i

  n

  k

  f

  u

  r

  ’

  s

  o

  f

  f

  i

  c

  e

  f

  e

  e

  l

  i

  n

  g

  m

  u

  c

  h

  l

  i

  g

  h

  t

  e

  r

  .

  For the next few days, I couldn’t leave the

  house. What if it rained? What if a giant cat

  with two heads attacked me?

  Yes, I had to face the fact that I was

  getting worse. I was

  afraid

  of everything.

  Then one morning the phone rang.

  “Hello, Stilton speaking, Ger
onimo

  Stilton

  ,” I murmured.

  It was my sister, Thea. She is a special

  correspondent for the newspaper

  I run, The Rodent’s Gazette.

  It is Mouse Island’s most

  popular paper!

  “Geronimo!!!

  Where have

  you been?

  ” squeaked my

  WHAT’S UP,

  GERONIMO?

  sister. “It’s been days since you were in the

  office!” I could tell she was annoyed. “Did you

  forget about the two television interviews?

  And what about the conference at the Press

  Club

  ? Have you lost your calendar? Or

  maybe you’re just turning into a cheesebrain!”

  I could hear her thumping her paw angrily on

  the desk. Uh-oh. When my sister gets mad,

  she’s like my uncle Cheesebelly when the deli

  runs out of mozzarella balls. There’s no

  calming her down.

  “Um, well, you

  see,” I mumbled, “I

  wasn’t feeling too

  well. But I’ll be

  there tomorrow.

  Yes, tomorrow,

  for sure. . . .”

  6

  The next day, I made a decision. It was

  time to get off my tail. I couldn’t stay inside

  forever. I took a deep breath and forced

  myself to leave the house.

  I took the stairs. No, I wasn’t ready for the

  elevator yet. (I was too

  afraid

  of closed

  spaces.) Then I opened the front door and

  stuck my snout outside. It was so noisy! I

  could barely hear myself think. Car horns

  blared. Delivery trucks rumbled down the

  street. Had it always been this loud?

  Carefully, I set a paw on the pavement.

  Nothing happened. I was so relieved.

  Why was I so afraid to go out? It’s no big

  ALL IN THIRTY

  SECONDS FLAT!

  7

  I

  d

  i

  d

  i

  t

  !

  I

  r

  e

  a

  l

  l

  y

  d

  i

  d

  i

  t

  !

  deal. At last, things were starting to look up.

  I walked to the newsstand to buy a paper.

  1. I had hardly opened it when . . .

  2. A flowerpot fell from a window ledge,

  hitting me on the head.

  3. Stumbling, I crashed right

  into a lamppost.

  4. Then I tripped on a mouse

  hole cover.

  5. I fell and bashed my snout

  on the hard pavement.

  1.

  2.

  5.

  4.

  3.

  6. As I was getting up, a taxi ran over my tail.

  7. Then a pigeon decided to poop on my nose.

  And it all happened in thirty seconds flat!

  “” I shrieked in a

  panic. I immediately scampered back home.

  “See, I was right all along!” I squeaked

  out loud. “Going out is dangerous

  business! From now on, I’m staying put!”

  I locked the door. It took a little while. I had

  added five extra dead bolts. You can never

  be too safe.

  6.

  7.

  “

  H

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  e

  l

  p

  !

  ”

  Thea called again the next day. She was at

  the office, even though it was a Sunday.

  “Geronimo! How are you?” she asked.

  “Well, um, I’ve got a cold,” I murmured. I

  pretended to sneeze.

  There was silence on the other end. Could

  my sister tell I was faking? “Well, don’t

  worry,” she finally squeaked. “We’ll just run

  you right over to Dr. Goodpaws. He’ll give

  you something to get rid of your cold.

  Maybe a couple of shots will do the trick!”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my fur.

  “Nooooooooo!” I shrieked in terror.

  “No shots, please! I’m already feeling

  much better. I just need to relax at home for

  a few more days. You know, unwind.”

  NO SHOTS, PLEASE!

  10

  My sister put me on squeakerphone.

  12

  More silence from the other end. Uh-oh.

  My sister wasn’t buying it.

  “So I heard you went to see Dr.

  Shrinkfur,” she murmured at last. “Do you

  have a problem, Geronimo?”

  I heard another voice in the background.

  “Geronimo has a problem? Maybe he

  should get his snout out of those books.

  That mouse is too brainy for his own good!”

  I groaned. It was my annoying cousin

  Trap. He runs a thrift store called Cheap

  Junk for Less. He tells the worst jokes.

  And he loves to play tricks on me.

  Then I heard another, smaller voice. “What’s

  the matter with Uncle Geronimo? Can I say

  hello to him?” it SQUEAKED. I smiled.

  It was my favorite nephew, Benjamin.

  The next thing I knew, my sister had put

  me on squeakerphone. “Go ahead, tell us

  everything, Geronimo!” she demanded.

  I chewed my whiskers.“Well, I went to see

  Dr. Shrinkfur because I sort of have a little

  problem . . .” I began.

  When I was done talking, Trap was the

  first to pipe up.

  “So what did Dr. Shrinky Dink tell you to

  do?” he asked.

  I told him about the doctor’s advice. If I

  wanted to get rid of my fears, I had to face

  them . . . only, I was too afraid to start!

  I

  f

  I

  w

  a

  n

  t

  e

  d

  t

  o

  g

  e

  t

  r

  i

  d

  o

  f

  m

  y

  f

  e

  a

  r

  s

  ,

  I

  h

  a

  d

  t

  o

  f

  a

  c

  e

  t

  h

  e

  m

  .

  Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.

  Ring!

  I decided not to answer it.

  But the doorbell kept ringing.

  It was ten times worse than the ding of the

  toaster oven, which I was now afraid of. I

  wanted to stick my head UNDERWATER

  to drown out the

  horrible noise.

  Finally, I went to the

  door.

  “A package for Mr.

  Stilton!” a small voice

  squeaked.

  I didn’t move.

  A PACKAGE FOR

  MR. STILTON!

  R


  ing!

  R

  in

  g

  !

  14

  Then I heard a loud sniff. “Hmm . . . this

  smells like a box of Cheesy Chews to me,”

  the voice continued. “What a lucky mouse!”

  I scratched my head. I couldn’t just leave

  A BOX

  of Cheesy Chews on my front

  step. They would melt for sure. All of

  that delicious chocolate and cheese gone

  to waste. It was unthinkable. It was

  unimaginable. It was unmousy.

  I waited for a couple of minutes. Then I

  carefully unlocked the door.

  I stuck my snout outside. . . .

  15

  I

  n

  s

  t

  a

  n

  t

  l

  y

  ,

  m

  y

  m

  o

  u

  t

  h

  b

  e

  g

  a

  n

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  o

  w

  a

  t

  e

  r

  .

  R

  in

  g!

  Before I could even squeak, six paws

  grabbed me. They lifted me up and threw

  me into a car.

  “Heeelp!” I shrieked. “I’m being

  mousenapped!”

  Someone started the car. We shot off with

  A SQUEAL OF TIRES. I felt like I was

  in a movie. You know,

  one of those high-

  speed cat-and-mouse

  adventure movies. Only

  this wasn’t a movie.

  This was real!

  I blinked. At the

  wheel sat my sister,

  Thea, with my cousin

  CHEESY CHEWS

  Trap at her side. My young nephew

  Benjamin kept me company in the back.

  “BUT I'M AFRAID TO GO OUT!" I

  shrieked in terror.

  Trap squeaked, “OH, DON'T BE SUCH A

  BABY!” He shoved a Cheesy Chew into my

  mouth. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a baby.

  I just had a problem with leaving my house.

  And with driving in fast cars. And with