05-WHAT'S WRONG WITH CACTUS CITY？

WHAT'S WRONG WITH CACTUS CITY? A wiry old mouse stood in front of the railroad station. He was dressed in a uniform. "Howdy, strangers, what brings you to Cactus City?" he called, waving us over. "The name's Choo-Choo Cheddar, that's C.C. for short," he chattered. "I lend a paw down here at the station. Yep, been working here for some twenty years. I sell tickets, carry bags. Yep, you name it, I've done it. Sometimes I even..." Suddenly C.C. stopped in mid-sentence. I noticed he was staring at us with an odd expression on his snout. "Well, GOLLY," he cried. "You mouselings must have come from way far off yonder. Just

look at your duds. Shucks, you're dressed just like city mice." C.C. offered us some stewed beans and a sip of water. "Sorry I can't get you more to drink," he said in a low voice. "Water is hard to come by in these parts." He looked around nervously. Then he whispered, "Let me give you some advice, strangers. Get out of town now!" How strange. What was wrong with Cactus City? It looked like a nice little town to me. I was still thinking about C.C.'s words

when a train rumbled into the station. A rat with long, waxed whiskers got off. It was Curly THE TRAIN CONDUCTOR. "Cactus City! Last station before the desert!" he yelled. No one got off the train. No one stopped in Cactus City. How strange. What was wrong with Cactus City? We decided to check out the town. First we passed the BLACKSMITH'S shop. A huge musclemouse was hammering

away on a piece of metal. He was making a horseshoe. A mouse carrying a doctor's bag scampered by. "Clear the way!" he squeaked. "Nancy Nibbler's about to have those triplets!" A plump mouse stuck his head out a building door. It was the banker. He looked around nervously. Then he raced back inside. I wondered why he looked so worried. Just then I heard a familiar noise. It was a printing press.

A rat with tiny glasses was busy printing the newspaper. He glanced up at us suspiciously. We passed by a courthouse. An old judge peeked out the door. He looked around. Then he slammed the door shut. In front of the saloon, a rodent sat in a ROCKING CHAIR. A big hat covered his face. He stopped rocking when we walked by. How odd. I thought he was napping. But it seemed as if he was hiding from something. Minutes later, we ran into the UNDERTAKER. He shook our paws warmly. He had a huge grin plastered on his face. At least one rodent wasn't worried, I thought. "Welcome to Cactus City, strangers!" The undertaker beamed. "If I can be of service, don't be shy. Today I'm having a two-for- one special. Yessiree, that's two stiffs for the price of one!"

A bucktoothed rodent stood next to him. He held up a shovel. I guess he was a gravedigger. "Just tell me how deep and I'll dig it!" I shivered. Then I noticed something else that was strange about Cactus City. There was no SHERIFF. Do you know what a sheriff does? He keeps order in the town. He locks up bad rodents in his jail. Sort of like the Chief of Police in New Mouse City.