16-MIND YOUR TAIL, STILTON!

MIND YOUR TAIL, STILTON! I STUDIED the members of the game show jury. They had such strange names... and SPOOKY SNOUTS! Torturetail glared at me. "Tell us, Mr. Stilton. What do you do for a living?" I cleared my throat. "Er, I am a publisher

and an author. I run the most popular newspaper in New Mouse City, The Rodent's Gazette." The game show host snickered. "I have heard that business is not so good lately, Mr. Stilton," he said. "Is that why you are playing our little game? Do you need the money? Or are you just desperate? Heh, heh, heh." I blushed. What kind of a question was that? I looked at Shif T. Paws. He gave me two thumbs up and mouthed the words ONE MILLION DOLLARS. I felt a little more confident. "The reason I am playing this game is strictly personal," I answered. "I prefer to keep it to myself, if you don't mind." Torturetail snarled. He was disappointed that he hadn't rattled me. "Of course," he

said. "Let's move on to the questions. You know by now that a wrong answer will release the spring on the mousetrap. When the trap falls, it will pinch your tail—or even chop it off!" I shuddered. My whiskers were quivering uncontrollably. The audience just laughed. A big, stocky rat with coal-black fur and very muscular arms began to pound a gong. "DUM, DUM, DUM, DUM..." I could feel the excitement in the room begin to rise. The audience was on the

edge of their seats. I looked into the control room and saw the director rubbing his paws together with glee. I realized that the ratings were probably going up! Every rodent on Mouse Island was probably tuned in to see me LOSE MY TAIL. "Here is the first question, Stilton," Torturetail howled. "Mind your tail! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!"