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Dedication
For Sophie and Ollie.
And, no, before you ask, you can’t have a pet raccoon!
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1 - The Raid
Chapter 2 - Daydream Believer
Chapter 3 - Something Fishy
Chapter 4 - No Surrender
Chapter 5 - The Leap of Faith
Chapter 6 - Four Minus One
Chapter 7 - A Shot in the Dark
Chapter 8 - City Life
Chapter 9 - A Pizza the Action
Chapter 10 - Raccoon-napped
Chapter 11 - Drainpipe Pete
Chapter 12 - Paradise Found
Chapter 13 - Mad Max
Chapter 14 - Community Service
Credits
Copyright
The moon was bright and everything in the forest was still. All the action was at Max’s place. Rocky couldn’t help but worry. “It’s b-b-breaking and entering,” he stuttered, pointing at the broken window. “What if the old man hears us?”
Quickpaw’s head poked out from a litter of biscuit wrappers and he wiped crumbs from his whiskers. He stood up, dusted himself down and stifled a burp. “We’ll tidy up before we leave,” he said. “Max won’t know anything about our little raid.” He moved along the shelf and examined a tin. His reading wasn’t the best, but he could recognise a picture of a salmon when he saw one. “Gotcha!” he squealed. “Guys, a tin of our favourite fish!”
Sunshine looked up from his meal, cat food smeared round his mouth. “Cool! Nice find, boss,” he chomped.
Dempsey had scoffed so many apples that his tummy was hurting. He was prowling the top shelf in search of something that always made him feel better – muffins.
“B-But what about Max?” hissed Rocky. “We shouldn’t be here, sneaking around his shop in the dead of night. He’s got a gun, you know.”
“Stop fretting,” scoffed Dempsey from up above. “Max is snoring. And he’ll never hear us, so long as we’re quie—” The small raccoon brushed against a bottle. It wobbled. Dempsey gulped. He was very high up. Not good! He reached to steady the bottle and made things worse. His paws went to his eyes as the bottle fell, smashing on to the concrete floor. All four members of the Hole-in-the-Tree gang froze. Dempsey peeped out from behind his claws. “Sorry!” he whimpered. “Maybe Max is a heavy sleeper?”
Light flooded from the crack under the door. All eyes went to Quickpaw. “What do we do, boss?” squeaked Rocky. “I told you we’d be in trouble.”
“Hide!” instructed Quickpaw, leading by example and diving into a sack of oatmeal. Instinctively, the three other raccoons made for their hiding places. Dempsey squeezed behind a jar of pickles on the top shelf; Sunshine wiped the cat food from his mouth and leaped into a Wellington boot; Rocky looked around frantically. All the hiding places were taken! Max’s footsteps were coming down the stairs. The old man was grumbling. “Either robbers or raccoons,” Rocky heard him mutter. “Either way, they’ll be getting some of this.” Rocky’s panic nearly boiled over as he heard the shopkeeper rummaging in the hallway cabinet. That’s where he keeps his gun!
Rocky remembered casing the joint. There was something that Max called a “cash register”. He remembered Max pressing a button and a little drawer shooting open. Just enough room for a raccoon, he hoped.
Max’s hand was on the door handle as Rocky pressed the button, the cash register opened and he dived in. The till closed and the room fell silent.
Max barged through the door, flicking the light switch as he did so. It was three o’clock in the morning and his eyes were as wild as his hair. The barrel of his gun scanned the room, his brain putting the clues together. Broken window. Glass on the floor. His old-fashioned shop was very cluttered and he figured there were a lot of places for a robber to hide.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” wheezed the shopkeeper. “Anyone burgling Max’s store is going to get what they deserve.” The old man shuffled his slippered feet to the end of the aisle, crunching on the broken glass as he walked. He jumped round the corner, ready to shoot at an intruder. Quickpaw sank deeper into the oats; Sunshine scrunched himself into the foot of the boot and held his breath as the man stalked by; Dempsey dared to peer down from the top shelf. Max was wearing blue-and-white-striped pyjamas and a very angry face.
The raccoons heard a distant voice. “Anyone there?” shouted Max’s wife from the safety of the bedroom.
“Soon see,” muttered the storekeeper to himself. The old man hauled open the door of his storeroom and prodded the gun inside. He pulled the cord and the storeroom light came on. Dempsey gasped from behind the pickle jar. Boxes and boxes of food. A whole treasure trove that we’ve never discovered! Next time, he promised himself. If there is a next time!
Max seemed calmer. The old man assured himself that whoever had tried to burgle his store had disappeared into the night. And, from what he could gather, nothing seemed to be missing. He was pleased that he’d scared them away. “Better check the till,” he croaked. Dempsey’s eyes widened as the old man approached Rocky’s hiding place; Quickpaw’s eyes and nose poked out of the sack; Sunshine’s black-and-white face twitched out of the top of the boot.
Max shuffled behind the counter. His bony finger pressed the cash-register button and the drawer sprang open. Max was used to the satisfying ker-ching noise.
But he dropped his weapon in horror as a screaming black-and-white animal hurled itself at him. Man and beast
