Odds on Oliver Read Free Page B

gathered down below. He heard the wail of a siren.
    I could go for a free fall, Oliver thought. Like a parachuter. He had always admired the jaunty way parachuters stepped out of the airplane, as calmly as if they were going to the corner store for a newspaper. Or a half-gallon of fat-free milk.
    If only he had a parachute.
    His feet kept going, kicking back and forth, looking for something to land on. Maybe he’d try for a free fall anyway.
    â€œHang on! We’re on our way!” a voice called.
    Better make it snappy, Oliver thought as he felt his good hand slipping fast.
    â€œGotcha!” the fireman said as Oliver fell, like a ripe peach, right into the man’s hands.
    Down on the ground, Mrs. Murphy kissed Oliver, and bought four tickets to the Firemen’s Ball. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Edna hid behind a tree.
    â€œAll right for you, Edna.” Oliver spoke sternly to Edna’s tail. “Next time you can get that danged cat down yourself. If you fall out of the tree, see if I care.”
    Edna wagged her tail sheepishly, and Oliver patted her head. “You’re a cool cat, Edna,” he said, “even if you are a dog.”

6
    H AVAHART
    The Blue Burd was gearing up for a gala Fourth of July party. Everyone in town was invited.
    â€œFill up these garbage bags, boys,” Oliver’s dad said to Oliver and Arthur. “Let’s make the place shine. Start in the shed. There’s stuff there that’s almost as old as the Declaration of Independence.”
    Oliver’s dad placed his hand over his heart as he recited: “‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’”
    â€œThat’s the Declaration of Independence,” Oliver said. “My dad knows it by heart.”
    â€œI know what it is,” Arthur said. “Think I’m a dummy?”
    They went to the shed and the first thing Oliver saw was his old Havahart trap.
    â€œHey, look, my Havahart trap!” Oliver cried. “So this is where it was. I’ve been looking for it for a long time. Now we can catch a woodchuck. Maybe a muskrat too.”
    â€œWhat do we do with it after we catch it?” Arthur said.
    â€œLet it go,” Oliver said. “Back to its native habitat. After we study it up close.”
    Oliver found other good stuff. Beat-up hubcaps, a stack of ancient license plates going as far back as 1962, a battered felt hat with a wide brim.
    â€œThat’s my dad’s gangster hat,” Oliver said.
    Arthur’s eyes opened wide. “Your dad was a gangster?”
    â€œNah, he wore it to high school,” Oliver said. “With a vest and all.”
    â€œWeird,” Arthur said. “Really, really weird.”
    After they loaded the bulging garbage bags filled with junk into the back of Oliver’s dad’s truck, Oliver’s dad gave them each a dollar. “For a job well done,” he said.
    At dusk, Oliver and Arthur lugged the Havahart trap into the woods behind Oliver’s house. The woods were black and full of night noises—spooky, creaking sounds that made shivers run up and down their spines and raised the hair on the backs of their necks.
    â€œOho-oho-ohooo,” something sang in the night.
    â€œWha-wha-what’s that?” Arthur stammered, following Oliver so closely that he kept stepping on Oliver’s heels.
    â€œMight be an owl,” Oliver said, faking calm. “Might be a ghost.”
    Arthur rejected the idea of ghosts hands-down. “Beany Allen said he heard there were woodchucks as big as bears around here,” he said loudly, toughing it out.
    A branch snapped. The wind rose and a lone bat sailed across the sky.
    â€œBeany Allen is full of it,” Oliver said.
    Oliver dropped into the trap the contents of one of the Blue Burd doggy bags he’d brought along for bait.
    â€œListen!” Arthur grabbed Oliver’s arm. “I hear it! It’s