Attack Of The Bandit Cats Read online

  by our balloon.

  Somehow I had a sinking

  feeling things were about

  to get worse.

  I really do

  traveling.

  18S

  19R

  The Silver

  Claw

  22

  Thea grabbed the binoculars.

  “Who is firing at us?” cried my sister.

  “Cheese niblets! That’s not an island. It’s a

  pirate ship. And those are cats!”

  “

  Cats?

  ”

  we all squeaked, terrified. Then

  another shot shredded our

  balloon.

  Down we went. We held on to the basket of

  the balloon for dear life as we hit the water.

  “Thea, Benjamin, Trap. . .are you still

  alive?” I whispered. I paddled desperately,

  trying to stay afloat.

  A lifeboat was approaching. A large

  black-and-white cat stood at the front.

  purrfect

  “Faster, faster, you fools!” he meowed to

  the cats pulling the oars.

  Soon the boat pulled up beside us. The

  big cat plucked us out of the water.

  “Mice!” he cried gleefully. “How

  Licking their whiskers, the pirates threw

  us into the lifeboat and rowed us back to

  their ship. It was called The Silver

  Claw. Except for the black sails, the

  whole ship was covered in polished silver. It

  shone brightly under the sun.

  13S

  14R

  EXCELLENCY

  The nasty cat who had captured us was

  pushing us down a hallway. He stopped now

  and then to prick our tails with the point of

  his sword.

  “Forward, you rodents!” he commanded.

  “You must pay your respects to His

  Prince of All Pirates,

  Grand Duke of Deadly Deeds, Earl

  of Evil Matters, and let’s not

  forget Baron of Broken Bones . . .

  the one and only Black

  Bandit!

  ” He meowed solemnly.

  My cousin put his paws on his

  hips. “So this prince character is

  your boss?” he scoffed. “Sounds like he

  24

  Three Cheers for

  The BlaCk BandiT!

  needs to pick one name and stick with it!

  For your information, my name is TRAP:

  T as in Take that, you crazy cat!

  R as in Run for your life!

  A as in Attention, everyone: Here I come!

  P as in Paws off if you want to live!

  The cat sneered. “The Black Bandit

  will soon wipe that grin off your snout,” he

  told my cousin. Trap just

  yawned and looked bored.

  He was a braver mouse

  than I. I was

  quaking in

  my Mouse

  Jordans!

  Meanwhile,

  we had reached

  an enormous

  dining room.

  Black Bandit

  More than one hundred cats were stuffing

  their furry faces with food. At the head of

  the table sat a black cat. His fur was as

  black as a mouse hole at night. His long

  whiskers were dusted with golden powder.

  He wore a cape of black silk and a large

  black hat with a golden feather on top. His

  shiny boots were decorated with buckles

  that jingled at his every step. In short,

  he was the most terrifying creature I’d ever

  laid eyes on. But it got worse. Under his belt

  he carried a razor-sharp sword. And even

  scarier than that was the cat’s

  right paw. It was a horrifying

  silver hook!

  Prince speared an apple, threw

  it in the air, and cut it up with his

  sword. Then he caught it in

  midair with his silver hook.

  26

  18S

  19R

  “Three cheers for the Black Bandit! Hip, hip, meow!”

  “Three cheers for Prince, three cheers for

  the Black Bandit!” the cats roared as

  one. “Hip, hip, meow! Hip, hip, meow! Hip,

  hip, meow!”

  With a grunt of approval, the Black

  Bandit

  sat down in his armchair. Then

  he noticed us.

  The other cats stood up. “Mice! Mice!”

  they purred, licking their whiskers.

  The Black Bandit stared straight

  into my eyes. One of his eyes was yellow

  and the other was green. It gave me the

  creeps. Like the time I met that circus

  mouse with two tails.

  “Silence!” the Bandit cried, waving

  his hook in the air.

  Everyone was silent. He lifted my chin

  with his sharp claw.

  “Well, well, well,” he hissed in a grim

  28

  voice. “What do we have here?”

  I coughed. His breath smelled

  worse than a bucket of moldy

  cheese!

  Suddenly, a tomcat dressed

  in bright yellow leaped into the air and

  raced over to a jar full of pickled snails.

  Then he began giggling like a kitten on his

  first trip to the fish market. There was a

  crazy

  look in his eyes.

  29

  30

  13S

  14R

  no More SnailS!

  It was Prowls, the Black Bandit’s

  brother.

  “Mice at last! No more snails!” he

  meowed.

  “Keep quiet, you nitwit!” snapped

  the Bandit. Then he turned to us.

  “Four plump mice,” he murmured.

  He looked down at his sharp claws as if he

  were longing for a nail file. Then he glanced

  at a cat in an apron who was huffing and

  puffing in the corner. He was busy roasting

  a long rod of snails over a fire.

  “So tell me, where are you from?” asked the

  Bandit, curling his tail into a question mark.

  Just then, Prowls began dancing around

  the room in a whirl of yellow. He stopped in

  front of Trap and pricked him with his sword.

  “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

  18S

  19R

  I glanced at my cousin. He was snorting

  like Scar Rat, the famous boxer, before a big

  match. “If you were on our island, you

  wouldn’t have a tongue!” Trap shrieked.

  “Jumping tuna fish!” cried the Black

  Bandit

  . “Do you mean you are from

  Mouse Island? Our ship has been searching

  for ages for that place! It sounds amazing!”

  “Amaaaaazzzing!” echoed the other cats.

  “Amaaaaazzzzing!” shouted Prowls. He

  was out of beat with the other

  cats.

  “Pipe down, you

  ninny!” raged the

  Bandit, crushing

  his brother’s

  tail with the

  heel of his

  boot.

  P

  r

  o

  w

  l

  s

  “Meeeeowwww!” cried Prowls.

  The Bandit brushed Prowls’s fur off

  his boot. Once again he turned toward us.

  “So, tell us where your island is. We will

>   take you back immediately,” he purred.

  “Oh, we don’t want to go back,” I said,

  pretending not to care.

  “And why not?” asked the Bandit,

  narrowing his eyes.

  “Well, you see, the four of us are the only

  survivors of a terrible sickness,” I

  whispered, thinking quickly. We had to stop

  these bandit cats from finding

  Mouse Island! “Yes,

  acutis

  fungus mousitis

  , a very

  contagious disease, has wiped out

  the whole population! So we left,

  hoping to find another island of

  rodents.” I wiped away a fake tear.

  33

  A greasy cat began playing a violin.

  The Black Bandit scratched his

  head with one long claw.

  “So there are no mice on the island?” he

  mumbled, drumming the table with his

  claws.

  Meanwhile, a greasy

  cat began playing a

  violin.

  “What would Your

  Excellency like to

  hear?” he asked, slimy as

  melted cheddar. “‘The Ballad of the Killer

  Cat’? Or ‘The Dance of the Pouncing

  Paws’?”

  But the Bandit only had eyes for us.

  “That’s enough, Patches! Enough playing

  for today!” he growled. Then he signaled for

  me to step closer.

  “Come on,” he hissed. “Are you telling

  35

  13S

  14R

  me a little lie, or are you pulling my paw?”

  I stayed quiet. All the cheese in the world

  couldn’t make this mouse squeak!

  The Bandit’s eyes drilled into mine.

  Then he let out a loud, evil laugh.

  “Get me Chef Slobbertooth!” he yelled.

  Ha!

  Ha!

  Ha!

  Ha!

  MiCe With SpiCe!

  Just then, the doors of the kitchen FLEW

  OPEN.

  A big cat wearing a cook’s hat decorated

  with a skull and crossbones bounded in.

  “Your Meowing Majesty, weren’t the

  stuffed snails to your liking? I wish I could

  do more for Your Whiskered Excellency,

  but I —” he began.

  But the Bandit held up his paw.

  “Enough jabbering!” he ordered. “Tell me,

  what do you think of these rodents?”

  “Mice!” screeched Slobbertooth, nearly

  jumping out of his fur. “My favorite meal to

  prepare! What an honor, Your Royal

  Purrfection! What a privilege! What a —”

  37

  18S

  19R

  The Black Bandit clawed the air.

  “Silence!” he shrieked. “Tell me their breed

  and the best way to cook them.”

  Slobbertooth pulled out a magnifying

  glass and studied us. Thea patted her head

  modestly. “Oh, Mr. Tooth, dear,” she said

  with a wink.

  “Don’t be too

  cruel. I’m having

  a bad fur day.”

  For a minute,

  Slobbertooth

  smiled,

  confused.

  Leave it to my

  sister to charm

  the claws off a

  cat!

  “Yes, well, these mice are healthy

  specimens,” said the chef, pulling

  himself together. “It wouldn’t be a

  bad idea to fatten them up, though. We

  could feed them for a week before

  eating them.”

  “How many servings can you

  dish out?” asked the Bandit.

  Slobbertooth twirled his

  whiskers,

  deep in thought

  .

  “I’d say about twenty,” he finally

  answered. He picked up a thick cookbook. I

  peeked at the cover. It was the

  latest edition of Cooking for

  Cats: From Rodents to Sweet

  Rolls by Kitty Carver.

  “Let’s see, I could bake them in a

  stew with some juicy vegetables,” he

  suggested. “Or a squeaky mouse dip is

  39

  F

  i

  r

  s

  t

  c

  o

  u

  r

  s

  e

  .

  .

  .

  S

  e

  c

  o

  n

  d

  c

  o

  u

  r

  s

  e

  .

  .

  .

  T

  h

  i

  r

  d

  c

  o

  u

  r

  s

  e

  .

  .

  .

  always delicious. Then

  again, there’s the

  classic: roast

  mouse. And, of

  course, nothing

  beats my mouse

  bone steak with

  pepper and lemon.”

  Licking his lips, the

  Black Bandit

  nodded. “Yes, the last

  recipe will be just

  purrfect,” he decided. “But

  don’t use too much garlic. We don’t want to

  hide the sweet taste of rodent meat!”

  “Of course, Your Highness. You couldn’t

  have made a better choice,” crooned

  Slobbertooth. “Yes siree, you are clearly an

  expert on the subject of food.”

  40

  BANDIT’S

  The Black Bandit ignored the

  compliments. He waved the cook back

  toward the kitchen. “Out of my sight!” he

  growled, giving him a boot.

  “at your orders, Your Most High and

  Excellent Claws!” muttered Slobbertooth,

  bowing low. I waited for him to kiss the

  boots. But he didn’t. I guess

  even Slobbertooth wasn’t up to that much

  slobbering. He raced out of the room.

  The Black Bandit turned to the cat

  who had captured us. He threw him the ring

  he wore on his little finger. “Take

  this, you idiot. This is my reward

  for your brave deed!” he said.

  “Thank you, Excellency. You are

  more than generous,”

  stammered

  the cat. He bowed so low his whiskers

  brushed the floor. Then he slunk away.

  41

  The Bandit j

  u

  mp

  e

  d

  onto the table.

  “Take the rodents to their cells, and woe to

  the cat who lets them escape!” he meowed

  fiercely. He slashed the air with his sword.

  All the pirates disappeared under the table

  to avoid having their whiskers chopped off.

  Four big, ugly cats sprang into action. They

  looked like they had been pro wrestlers in one

  of their nine lives. They pushed us up a

  stairway leading to the Cat’s Ear, a very

  tall silver tower.

  “Check this one out! He’s plump enough to

  eat raw!” roared a striped cat, feeling Trap’s tail.

  42

  “Raw, my paw!” squeaked myr />
  cousin. “Don’t even think about

  touching me!”

  “Hee! Hee! Hee!

  I’m

  not going to bite. . .at least

  not yet!” sniggered the cat.

  He pushed us into a dark

  cell. The key turned in

  the lock behind us.

  We looked at one another in a daze. We

  were doomed to be devoured by cats! What

  a horrible way to go.

  I just knew something bad was going to

  happen, even before we left.

  Traveling really is the

  PITS!

  43

  The cats were lowering the sails.

  CAT’S Ear.

  The CaT’s ear

  I stared out the window of our prison cell

  in the The cats were lowering

  the sails so they could change direction.

  “Rotten, stinking cats!” I muttered,

  gripping the bars with my paws.

  “Holey cheese! I don’t want to

  end up in a pot to be cooked by

  that sleazy Slobberface,” sobbed

  my cousin. “I don’t even like

  pepper. It makes my fur break

  out in hives.” He sniffled, then blew his

  nose loudly into a big yellow

  handkerchief with red dots

  .

  Benjamin grabbed the sleeve of my

  jacket. “Uncle, I think maybe -” he

  45

  b

  e

  g

  a

  n

  .

  The Cat's Ear

  S

  N

  I

  F

  F

  L

  E

  !

  S

  O

  B

  B

  B

  !

  HO

  N

  K

  !

  “Benjamin, please, we’ll talk about it

  later,” I said. I patted him on the head.

  “Auntie, I think maybe —” my nephew

  tried, pulling my sister’s paw.

  “Benjamin, be a good mouse! Can’t

  you see we’re talking about serious

  matters?” said Thea.

  “Why don’t you go play with some fur

  46

  balls or something,” suggested Trap.

  “But I have a plan!” squEAKed