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The giant, it turned out, was none other than Dr. Greenbriar. And while his anger was great, the rest of him was no bigger than usual. He had seemed like a giant only because of the way his shadow fell from the doorway.

“I don't understand it,” he mumbled as he rounded us all up and returned us to our bungalows. Howie, thinking quickly, had covered Rosebud's bones and collar with loose dirt. “How do you fellas keep getting out? I think it must be Daisy. She's such a scatterbrain. I'm going to have to speak to Jill about her. Oh, what a nuisance!”

He sighed and it grew into a yawn. What was he doing here in the middle of the night anyway?

From our bungalows we watched him retreat into his office. The light stayed on for a long time. I don't know about anybody else, but I was wishing Ditto's blanket were off so she could report on what was happening in there.

“Psst.”

I looked up. The Weasel was outside my cage. “Meeting at Hamlet's when the light goes out,” he whispered. He scurried off and I heard him repeat the message to Howie and Chester and then watched him slither across to the bungalows opposite to tell the others.

I began thinking about everything that had just happened. Talking bones, secrets, murder, escape. Boy, I thought, why couldn't the Monroes send us to a place with normal social activities? Volleyball, maybe, or bingo.

“Chester,” I called softly through the wall of my bungalow.

“Yes, Harold?”

“What do you think?”

There was a pause before Chester spoke
again. “I think we are in danger, Harold, that's what I think. Until we discover the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow, no one here is safe. Any one of us could wake up like Rosebud, nothing but a pile of bones. So whatever you do, stay awake, Harold. Stay awake, keep alert, be ever vigilant because . . .”

I don't remember the rest of what Chester had to say. I had fallen into a deep sleep.

I
WAS jarred awake by Chester's rattling the door of my bungalow. “What are you doing out there?” I asked.

“I came to
wake
you,” he said pointedly. “We have a meeting, remember?” He nodded toward the office; the light was out. “Dr. Greenbriar left a few minutes ago. Come on, Harold, shake a leg.”

I yawned and slouched toward the door. It was the middle of the night and I was hungry. I wondered if they'd be serving doughnuts at this meeting.

Howie was waiting outside with Chester. We started toward Hamlet's bungalow.

“Boy, this is exciting, huh, Uncle Harold? I've never been to a meeting before. Do you think we'll get to vote? I hope so. I've always wanted to say, ‘I abstain!' Do you want to hear my speech?”

“Your what?”

“My speech. In case I get nominated for office.”

Chester and I exchanged glances.

“I don't think—,” Chester started to say.

“If elected,” Howie burst out earnestly, “I promise to get the job done first and talk about it later. The buck stops here, a chicken in every pot, Motherhood, America, and do you know where your kids are? Sure, my opponent accuses me of drooling on hot summer days. Well, you know what I say to that? I say, Show me a dog who doesn't drool on hot summer days and I'll show you a hypocrite! I have videotaped evidence of my opponent drooling in the luxury of his own air-conditioned doghouse
just this past July and I am willing to go nose to nose anytime, anywhere—”

“Howie,” Chester interjected, “I don't believe there are going to be any elections at this meeting.”

“Oh,” Howie said. “Well, maybe I could be sergeant at arms.”

Fortunately, we arrived at Hamlet's bungalow before the discussion could go much further. The others were already there.

“I move the meeting be adjourned!” Howie cried as we gathered in a circle.

“Ignore him,” Chester advised the others.

Taking Chester's advice, Hamlet spoke up. “I'm sorry to say it, but I'm kind of relieved this happened. I've been hearing this whimpering and moaning for a few days now and I was beginning to think I'd lost my marbles.”

“Well, now we've all heard it,” said Chester. “So either we've all lost our marbles, or what we heard, difficult as it may be to accept with a rational mind, is as real as any of us sitting here.”

“Oh, we heard it all right,” said Linda.

“But what are we going to do?” Bob asked. “We have to escape, but how?”

“Well,” said Linda, as if the two of them were having a private conversation, “why couldn't we dig our way out, Bob?” Then, turning to the rest of us, she said, “Unfortunately, the kids have us so well trained that we have very little personal digging experience and they have a gardener who does most of their digging, so I can't even say we've seen it done.”

“The Great Escape,”
Bob said.

“Sorry?” said Linda.

“We saw a lot of digging in that movie,
The Great Escape,
remember, hon? Tom and Tracy rented it the night Shelly and Chad came over. You got sick from the popcorn after.”

“Of course,” Linda said. “Well, there you are. We
do
know a thing or two about digging. Perhaps we could act as technical consultants.”

At this point, even Howie looked confused.

“On the subject of digging,” said The Weasel, “I have to point out that the metal fence goes a long way down. I don't want to be discouraging, but—”

“What about the gate?” Chester asked. “Or the office? Isn't there some other way out?”

Felony and Miss Demeanor looked at each other knowingly, an exchange that was not lost on Chester.

“You know what we're talkin' here, pal?” Felony asked. Chester shook his head. “Max seek.”

“Who's Max Seek?” Chester asked.

“Maximum security,” said Miss Demeanor, still chomping on her catnip.

“I . . . I hate to mention it,” Hamlet said haltingly. “But Rosebud did seem to imply some urgency. Perhaps some of us should start digging while others work on figuring out a different escape plan.”

“Done!” Chester snapped. “Dogs dig; cats figure.”

“Where do I fit in?” The Weasel asked before
the dogs among us had a chance to form a union and go on strike.

“That's a question I've been asking myself ever since I met you,” Chester said. “You can dig, but you might also be useful getting into tight places—such as the office, for instance.”

The Weasel ran his tongue nervously along his lips. “I know it's important that we get out, but, um, what if we get caught?”

“Aw, stop bein' such a goody four-paws,” said Felony, with a disdainful sneer. The Weasel looked away, embarrassed.

“Excuse me,” said Hamlet, inching his right front paw forward on the ground. “I don't know how much help I'll be with the digging. My leg isn't so good. Danged arthritis. I'm sorry.”

We all nodded sympathetically.

“That's all right,” said Chester. “We'll figure out something for you to do. Which reminds me: the parrot.”

“Ditto,” said Howie.

Chester gave Howie an irritated glance.

“Maybe there's some way he can help out.”

“She,” said The Weasel.

“Ditto,” Howie said.

“What?” said Chester.

“The parrot is a she,” The Weasel pointed out.

“Ditto,” Howie repeated.

Chester said, “Howie, would you stop that? If you have something to say, at least be original.”

“The parrot's name is Ditto,” said Howie.

“Well, of course it is!” Chester shouted. He grabbed his tail and began licking it with all his might. I've seen this before. It's his watch-me-do-this-and-maybe-you'll-forget-what-a-fool-I-just-made-of-myselfploy.

“Look,” Linda said, “there's a shrub in front of the fence between Felony's and Miss Demeanor's bungalows. Perhaps we could dig a hole behind that. That way, it would be hidden from view.”

“Good thinking,” Chester said. “Okay, so the dogs will dig. And the cats, with Ditto's
help, will try to figure out a way to break into the office or unlock the gate. Is everyone agreed?”

“Let's vote!” Howie cried.

“We don't need to vote,” said Chester.

“Please, Pop!”

“Howie,” Chester said, “go work on your acceptance speech.”

Howie looked startled. “You mean I won?” he asked. “Wow, and to think I never even kissed a baby or threw mud at my opponent. I was looking forward to that part.” And he trotted off.

“I been thinkin',” Felony piped up. “It's kinda strange we ain't heard nothin' from the bones this whole time.”

“Do you mean Rosebud?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah, Rosebones. What do you say we ask her some questions? Like, fr'instance, What is the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow? She was about to spill the beans just before old Doc Greenbriar appeared on the scene.”

“Maybe the secret's got somethin' to do with him,” Miss Demeanor said. “Maybe that's why he was here tonight. He knew somethin' was up and he was spy in' on us.”

“Maybe there are more bones buried around the place,” said The Weasel.

“You don't mean to suggest,” said Hamlet, “that there were others before Rosebud, others who . . . never went home?”

A shiver went through me.

“What're we waitin' fer?” Felony piped up. “Let's go ask her.”

We all crept over to the spot where Howie had hastily covered the remains of Rosebud. Chester called to her softly. She didn't answer. He tried again. And again.

“Perhaps she's on another plane of existence,” Hamlet suggested, “and she can't hear us right now.”

“Well, they ought to have answering machines on the Other Side,” Linda said, “so if they're tied up on another plane of existence, you could just leave a message at the beep.”

“Great idea, hon,” said Bob.

The Weasel suggested we try again in the morning.

“Right,” I said with a loud yawn. “Nothing's going to happen between now and breakfast.”

“I'm not sure I agree with you,” Chester remarked as we walked back to our bungalows. “Anything can happen, Harold. And it can happen anytime. It's true we must escape, but
the only way we're going to be safe, really safe, is for someone to find out the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow. If it isn't going to be Rosebud, then it will take someone else, someone heroic, someone who dares to go where no one has gone before, someone who is willing to risk life and limb—”

“Wait a minute, Chester,” I said. “If you think you're going to flatter me into this . . .”

“I was referring to myself,” Chester said flatly.
“I'm
going to find out the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow, Harold.”

I turned to face him. His eyes were filled with determination. I knew there was no swaying him, no matter what terrible fate might lie in store. A shiver of dread went through me.

Even as I tried to fall asleep, I couldn't shake the chill. Nor could I shake Howie's ranting two bungalows away:

“I will not shirk my responsibilities nor forget the promises I made on my way to being elected. More miles to the gallon, more crunch in every spoonful, and a par-tri-idge in a . . . pear . . . tree.”