Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 THE RIVER WAS NOT THE only place the sun was shining. It was shining over the village, but the villagers could not enjoy it because the winds from the old windmill were so strong that anything not nailed down was whisked up, up, and away. It's true! An apple cart, a wagon filled with hay, even an old lady knitting in her rocking chair all flew up, up, and away. (Don't worry—the old lady knitting was saved at the last minute. One quick-thinking villager caught the end of her yarn and pulled her back to safety.)

The villagers had to bring all their cows, horses, goats, chickens, sheep, and pigs into their houses so that the animals did not blow away. And don't forget the ducks! The ducks had to squeeze in as well. And the village cats, and the village dogs. It was very crowded. It was also very loud. It sounded something like this: "I QUACK sure MOO hope BAAA the WOOF wind MEOW stops OINK soon NEIGHHH COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"

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But do you know where it was not crowded? And not windy? And not rainy? Where the sun was also shining? That's right —in the creaky, crooked old windmill where Baron Von Grump lived. Perhaps, dear reader, you are saying, "Here we go again.… Baron Von Grump has set his plan in motion. He's such a grump! And the village needs to be saved again. When will the villagers ever learn? And the Junior Monster Scouts will need to save the day." And you would be right! Of course the Junior Monster Scouts will have to save the villagers, but how? Isn't it exciting? Here we go again! Now back to our story… Baron Von Grump stood at the wide-open window and looked out over the village. He drew a deep breath, first with his right nostril, and then with his left, and then, finally, with both of his nostrils.

"What a glorious spring day," he said. He scrunched his eyebrows together and glared at the village. "At last." Edgar flew in a crooked line right to the corner of the room and collapsed. He was still very, very dizzy. "Perhaps some music will make you feel better, eh?" said Baron Von Grump. "Cawwww?" Edgar said. "Yes, something zesty," said Baron Von Grump. "Caw…" "And lively." "Caw!" "Yes, yes! Something you can dance to!" Baron Von Grump marched straight to the cabinet where he kept his sheet music. "I've got just the thing," he said. He riffled through his music and held up one page filled with musical notes. "This? No!" He held up another. "How about—no!" He

scanned a third. "Too slow." He pushed his face against a fourth. "Rubbish!" He looked at a fifth and a sixth and a seventh and said, "Too soft… too loud… too weird." Then Baron Von Grump's eyes settled on something. Something that was sitting right there, in front of his face, the whole time. There, atop the cabinet where he kept his sheet music, sat a small, framed picture of a small boy holding a very small violin. That small boy had very big, bushy, black eyebrows. It was none other than little Baron