Guerrillas in the Glen
by
Gordon Stearns

Chapter 7
The Horrid Eel-Tooth
page 2 of 3



"What's wrong, Dad?" Joe asked.
"Hey," grumbled The Dad, obviously puzzled, "where did our stake go?"
"That's strange," The Mom agreed. "It was right in line with this cherry tree."
"Don't worry," said said Joe confidently, "Brett and I will find it."

Hyde snickered to Figan from his perch, "They never find that stake. HN, HN, HN, HN, HN!" Almost immediately, Figan sensed something was very wrong. But what?! Joe and Brett were darting about, searching for the stake. The Dad was pouring a dark liquid into the belly of the ugly chain saw. The sun had just chased away the last traces of fog. With a sense of foreboding, Figan glanced at the hole where the stake had been.... The hole! They hadn't covered up the hole!

Figan's body went cold. In only a matter of moments, the humans would discover the treacherous hole. Yesterday's victory had been an illusion.

"Hey, everyone!" shouted Joe, " Look, here's the hole. But where's the stake? Somebody stole our stake!"
" Wow!" exclaimed Brett, running up.

Hyde shot an apprehensive glance at Figan. This just couldn't be happening!
"That's odd," said The Mom, "who would want a wooden stake?"
"Maybe a woodchuck could chuck wood," kidded The Dad. Joe laughed loudly and The Mom made a face but joined in. Brett didn't know why everyone was laughing, but unwilling to be left out, started giggling too.
"Let's get started," the Dad ordered. "Let's see how much we can do before the workmen come next week. I'll start cutting. Mom, you and the boys can stack the wood against the big cherry tree."

Confidently, The Dad grasped the pull starter of the chain saw, his powerful arms tensing. He pulled mightily, but the machine simply sputtered. Again and again he struggled to spark the stubborn saw into life. But no matter how hard he tried, the chain saw would only cough and sputter. He grew angrier and angrier.

"Now don't get so upset," soothed The Mom.
" Well, you try it if you think it's so easy," growled The Dad.
The Mom looked over the chain saw carefully. "I think you probably have to pull out the choke like this," she indicated. Smoothly, she engaged the pull starter, and the reluctant machine came alive with a ferocious roar.

"Thanks, Honey," The Dad mumbled sheepishly, "I just never can seem to ..."
Mm-Hmmm, thought Figan in spite of the sick feeling in his tummy, this Dad doesn't know what he's doing.

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Guerrillas in the Glen Copyright 1997, 1998 Gordon Stearns
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