When the plane was safe inside, he crawled inside himself and pulled the plywood door closed. They could hear the starlings outside crowding and hissing as they pushed up to the crate to listen and peer in.
"Now tell me," Charlie whispered just loud enough for them to hear. "How the heck did you find such terrific grasshoppers?"
"Have a look, sonny. They really are sensational." Rory pushed the bag toward Charlie. Beady eyes watched. Charlie opened the bag and lifted out a fat, wriggling grasshopper. The starlings sighed. Charlie opened the bag again, and a second grasshopper leaped past his fingers and was free.
"Catch him!" Rory cried, and dove after the grasshopper, chasing it skillfully toward the crack in the door where it slipped through quick as lightning— and was snatched up and fought over noisily. The three friends grinned at each other.
When the birds had ceased quarreling and were pressing once more against the door, Rory whispered, "I'm going to bag these critters up and sell 'em, sonny. Why there's all we can eat and a million times more than that. I could fill a whole fleet of planes with grasshoppers. The most succulent things fried you ever tasted." And then, in a much lower whisper that the starlings couldn't possibly hear, "Ask me where, sonny! For gosh sakes, ask me where!"
"Where in heck did you find them?" Charlie whispered loudly. "My gosh, Rory, it's as good as discovering gold. Where did you find so many?"
"Up to Allensville, sonny. Why, they're as thick as a carpet up there. We were flying along nice as you please, when we looked down and saw the ground was covered with grasshoppers, a whole army of them chomping on the wheat, hopping around . . ." The starlings sighed again. "Well sonny, we flew right down and landed, and we began snatching grasshoppers off the wheat stalks right and left. They were so thick you couldn't even walk between them. Oh, we had us a feast—what a feast ..." Rory reached into the bag and pulled out another grasshopper. It did look juicy, all right. "Right up in Allensville, sonny, not two hours flight from here as straight north as a fellow can go. Lies just west of a long line of hills," he whispered loudly, shoving the grasshopper safely back into the bag.
"But how did you make it clear to Allensville and back in one day?" Charlie asked finally. "I thought . . ."
"Luck, sonny," the kangaroo rat said lightly. There was no need to whisper now, though the starlings still pressed close around the edges of the plywood. "Just pure luck. Our first refueling was at a farm outside Charmin the way we planned. We landed, located the gas pump, and hid the plane to wait 'til dark. We could smell breakfast cooking and could see the family inside the farmhouse. Well sonny, when they'd finished up their breakfast, the farmer and his wife and three kids locked the house, locked up the chickens, chained up the dog, got in their truck and drove away. Pretty soon the smoke from the chimney died, so we guessed there wasn't anyone else at home. The gas pump was just beside the barn. There were even a couple of oil cans near it. We thought about cats but decided to take a chance.
"Well I'll tell you, sonny, that old German shepherd just about tore that chain out by the roots when we took off at the edge of the woods, circled the Fox real low, and came in just beside the gas pump. He couldn't figure out what we were, or what we were doing, but he darn sure knew we shouldn't be there. We tipped some oil into that measuring cup we carried along, and when we'd got enough oil into the tank, Crispin climbed the gas pump and flipped the switch. It took just a second to fill up the Fox's tank. But that hose adapter we made didn't work so well, we spilled a lot of gas. The next time we did it all different. Anyway, spilled a lot of gas, had to wipe the Fox off from prop to tail, with that dog having apoplexy not six yards from us. When we took off again, he was still lunging at the end of his chain, and he'd woke up the cats, but they were a stupid lot. They didn't like the smell of gas and were all pacing around lashing their tails, but they wouldn't come near the plane. Well we just revved up the Fox and took off, and that put us clear up to Allensville in just under three hours, and there were those flappin' grasshoppers just writhing and wriggling and waiting for someone to come along and sample them . . ."
There was a big rasping sigh from the starlings.
"You had it all planned!" Charlie whispered very faintly. "You went up to Allensville on purpose!"
Rory grinned.
"And in Allensville, sonny, everything was in such an uproar that it wasn't hard at all to locate a tractor left standing alone in a field and siphon out some gas. That farmer's going to be pretty surprised when he finds a dollar bill and a note under a rock on his tractor seat. We had to take oil from a can in his utility box behind the seat, so we left him a note telling him to check it—so he wouldn't run out, sonny, and get caught oilless. At the farm back in Charmin we'd just tossed the money up on top the gas pump. That farmer'll probably think he put it there himself."
"And coming back, Charlie," Crispin said, "we stopped at the very same farm! I was scared to, but Rory said . . . well, the truck wasn't back yet, and the cats had gone to sleep. That old dog sure barked, though. If that chain had ever broken . . ."
It was about that time that they heard a different kind of stirring outside the hangar. The birds had stopped crowding around the plywood, and when Charlie looked out, they had begun to leave. First in threes and fours, then by the dozens, and at last in black knots of birds. And they were not returning to the garbage dump. Nor were they heading for town, or for the pine grove. They were rising straight up into the sky as if bent on some serious mission. They rose very swiftly for starlings, and silently; and, high over the dump, they gave a great whistle of mocking derision, hissed rudely, and set off on a northerly course as fast as starlings could go.
Charlie stared at Rory. Rory stared at Charlie. They both looked at the lemming, whose whiskers had begun to twitch. And they all began to grin.
By four o'clock that afternoon there was not a starling left in Skrimville or anywhere near it. Not at the garbage dump, not in the pine woods, not in town. And at seven o'clock, when Charlie got home for dinner, the word was on TV.
"... like a miracle, ladies and gentlemen. Here in Allensville people are crowding the roads that lead out to the wheatfields, trying to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. The farmers are jubilant. All the churches are open for special thanksgiving. The black cloud of starlings swept in here late this afternoon and began gobbling grasshoppers by the bushelful. At this rate, ladies and gentlemen, it is estimated that nearly half the state's wheat crop may be saved. Now here, live from the scene, is our camera crew and John Mooney ..." The shot panned to John Mooney, then narrowed in on a wheatfield black with starlings diving and screaming as they gorged themselves on giant grasshoppers. The camera zoomed in for some closeups, and the birds could be seen gulping down wriggling grasshoppers as fast as they could swallow. "I've never seen anything like it, ladies and gentlemen ..." John Mooney was saying.
Mrs. Critch got so interested in the television, she burned the spaghetti sauce. She and Charlie and Mush were crowded around the TV. During dinner the phone rang twelve times.
Joe Blake shouted, "Turn on your TV, Charlie. My gosh, the starlings have really left Skrimville!"
Jerry Wise said, "I knew it! Could have made us a nice pile, selling those starlings to the farmers up in Allensville! Drat the luck!"
The mayor screamed, "It's a miracle, Chauncy! A true miracle!"
When Dad called, he said, "Hey Charlie, did you have something to do with putting the starlings onto those grasshoppers?"
"Me, Dad? How could I do such a thing?"
"I don't know, but I had a funny feeling you might. Isn't it great!"