A Wild-Goose Chase

"It sure is strewn, all right--whatever that means," the guard admitted. "Looks doggone near good enough to eat! Cracky! I sure wish you was out here and I was in there!"

Micky sidled up to the bars. "Maybe that could be arranged," lowering his voice. "Try bribing us."

The guard shook his head. "Couldn't afford it," he replied. "Even used, that cake's still a twenty-four egger."

"Scoff, scoff," Micky scoffed. "You're a Bellevuian, so I'll bet you've got plenty of nothin' stashed away. Try a little of that."

Again the guard shook his head. "That's put away for my retirement," he said. "Tell you what I'll do, though. I'll clean up that cell for you."

"I guess that's better than nothing," Micky replied, resigned.

"Just wait'll I get my bib," the guard said, moving away.

Micky notioned to the other Monkees and they huddled around him in conference.

"This is our chance," he whispered. "When the guard enters the cell, we'll jump him."

"That's not fair," Peter said. "There are four of us and one of him."

"I know." Micky nodded. "But where will we get anybody else to help us?"

At that moment the guard reappeared. He was wearing a bib and carrying a pistol. Excited, he opened the door and stepped into the cell. Then, holding the gun on the Monkees, he sat down on a cot, picked up a chunk of cake with his free hand, and began devouring it greedily.

"I understand about us jumping him, but who's going to jump his friend?" Mike asked Micky, indicating the pistol.

"This calls for new strategy," Micky replied. "Anybody got any ideas?"

"Let's give up," Peter suggested.

"Brilliant!" Davy said.

"The motion has been made and seconded that we give up," Micky said. "How do we vote?"

"Owwwww!" the guard suddenly cried, leaping up.

"That's one owwwww! in favor," Micky said. "How about the rest of you?"

The guard was hopping around the cell, pressing his hands to his cheeks. "My cavity!" he wailed. "Owwwwww!" Doubled over by pain, he rushed toward the open door. But under such conditions his aim was not the best. He missed the opening and butted into the bars--and then crumpled up and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The Monkees gathered around him.

"This is a great moment in history," Mike said solemnly. "This man has discovered what human beings have sought for centuries--an alternative to going to the dentist."

"But that's the easy way out. It'll never catch on," Davy said.

Micky motioned toward the open doorway. "Anybody for the tower?" he asked.

With Micky in the lead, the Monkees slipped out of the cell. They crept quietly up the stairway to the main floor, then halted.

"The question now is, where's the elevator?" Micky said.

"Castles don't have elevators," Mike said. "You have to take the secret passageway. Let's find the library. The secret passageway is always behind the bookshelves."

"The question now is, where's the library?" Micky said.

"Straight down the corridor, take a turn to the left, then another turn to the left, then a third turn to the left," H.P.I. Smith replied.

The Monkees turned and found the secret agent standing at the end of the line.

"That would bring us right back here where we are," Peter pointed out.

"Exactly." Smith smiled evilly. He pointed to a door across the corridor. "That's it."

"Thanks for your help," Mike said. "If there's ever anything we can do for you, just name it."

"Freddie," Smith said.

"Freddie?"

"That's my name for 'surrender,'" Smith answered.

"Well, we'd be glad to," Mike began. "But--"

"Guards!" Smith bellowed.

Soldiers suddenly appeared at both ends of the corridor.

"Seize them!" Smith shouted.

Micky counted the guards. "Sorry," he said to Smith. "We'd like to oblige, but there are just too many of them."

The guards came racing along the corridor toward then from both directions.

"Into the library!" Mike said, heading for the door that Smith had pointed out.

Micky, Peter, and Davy hurried after him.

"I don't think we ought to do this," Peter said worriedly. "We already owe money on overdue books back home. We could get in trouble."

"We'll just browse," Davy said.

"I can't do that," Peter fretted. "When I find an interesting book, I just have to read it."

"Sick-sick-sick!" Micky said disgustedly.

Mike yanked open the door to the library. The Monkees crowded through the opening. Then Mike quickly shut the door and locked it.

"There we are," Mike said smugly, "trapped!"

Outside, fists began pounding on the door.

"Trapped--but not for long," Davy said. "Rescue is on the way. I give that door about five minutes."

"Find the secret passageway," Mike said.

The Monkees began racing around the room, pressing on walls, looking for cracks, opening desk drawers, moving furniture, and bumping into each other. Meanwhile the pounding continued.

"Two minutes till disaster," Peter reported, looking at his watch.

"Go read a book!" Mike snapped.

Peter walked to the shelves and began perusing the titles. "This looks interesting," he said. "How to Build Your Own Printing Press and Make Money on Wall Street--or Any Other Street, For That Matter."

There was a splintering sound. A panel in the door had been knocked out. A hand reached through and groped for the lock.

"It's disaster time!" Micky sang out.

Peter took the book from the shelf. And, as he did, the whole shelf swung back, revealing a secret passageway.

"Cut that out!" Peter scolded. "Now I don't know where this book goes!"

The hand found the door lock, unlatched it, and then turned the knob. The door burst open. Smith and the soldiers crowded into the room.

"Seize them!" Smith shouted.

"We'll make a deal," Mike replied. "If you can get them to line up, faces to the wall and hands over their heads, we'll make a try at it. But I still say there's too many of them."

The guards rushed at the Monkees.

The Monkees rushed at the secret passageway.

The Monkees won. Plunging into darkness, they found themselves dashing blindly up a stairway. Behind them they could hear the soldiers in hot persuit.

Micky, who was in the lead, called back. "I see a crack of light up ahead!"

"How far ahead?" Davy asked.

There was a sudden crash. Micky had plowed into a door and kept right on going. "About a sixteenth of an inch," he replied, inspecting the hole he had made.

Mike, Davy, and Peter followed him through the opening.

"Where are we?" Peter asked.

"Now, this is just a wild guess," Micky replied. "But, offhand, I'd say we were in the private bedchamber of King Hiram of Bellevue." He pointed to the far side of the room, where King Hiram, seated on the edge of a canopied bed and wearing a red nightshirt, was staring at them grumpily. "Exhibit A," Micky said.

"You boys know you're trespassin'?" King Hiram complained. "Right after my snooze, I'm gonna pass a law against that!"

"Seize them!" a voice shouted from the secret passageway.

The Monkees raced across the room, whipped open the door, and darted out into the corridor.

Behind them, they heard King Hiram call out, "They went thataway!"

With Peter in the lead this time, the Monkees galloped down the corridor. They reached a stairway. Peter raced downward, with Micky, Mike, and Davy at his heels.

"Why didn't we go up?" Mike asked. "That's the way to the tower."

"It's not allowed," Peter panted. "This a down staircase, and it's against the rules to go up a down staircase. I read that in a book."

"Take a note," Mike said to Davy. "No more books for Peter. He can't handle them."

"Halt-- in the name of the king!" a familiar voice cried from behind.

Davy looked back. The king, in his red nightshirt, was now leading the chase.

"All is lost!" Davy said. "With three feet, the king will be able to outrun us easily."

Mike glanced back. "What three feet?"

"Doesn't every ruler have three feet?" Davy asked.

"That's a yardstick," Mike replied. "A ruler is only twelve inches."

Once more, Davy looked back. "He certainly is tall for that size," he said.

They reached the main floor. Peter led them across the entranceway and out the door. Then he headed toward the rear of the castle.

"I suppose you have some plan in mind," Micky said to Peter.

"I'm going to circle around and come up behind them and let them take the lead," Peter replied. "They know the castle better than we do."

A moment later, the Monkees reached the barnyard-- and came upon princess Ellie Jo, who was feeding the geese.

"Quick-- where can we hide?" Peter said.

Ellie Jo looked at the Monkees disapprovingly. "Hide?" she said. "If you need a place to hide, then you must be being chased. And if you're being chased, you must be the losers. It just wouldn't be seemly for a princess to get herself mixed up with a bunch of losers," she said.

The king, Smith, and the soldiers came racing around the corner of the castle.

"Over here, Paw!" Ellie Jo called out. "I found 'em for you!"

The Monkees took off again, running toward the rear door of the castle.

"Take another note," Mike said to Davy. "Never trust a princess who blushes."

As the Monkees reached the rear door of the castle, they looked back and saw that they were now being persued by Ellie Jo, the king, Smith, and the soldiers.

"Next, it'll be the geese," Davy said.

They heard a loud honk behind them. Piling through the doorway, the Monkees looked back once more. The geese had joined the chase.

"One more note," Mike said to Davy. "From now on, do as the Bellevuians do: Leave well enough alone."

Inside the castle, the Monkees scampered down the corridor. They came to a fork.

"This way!" Mike said, turning left.

"No, this way!" Micky said, turning right.

Davy followed Mike. Peter followed Micky.

Seconds later, the king, the princes, Smith, the guards, and the geese reached the fork.

"They went this way," the king said, turning left.

"No-- I saw them go this way," Smith said, turning right.

The princess and the guards followed the king.

The geese followed Smith.

Ahead, Mike and Davy came to a corner and turned right. In another part of the castle, Micky and Peter reached a corner and turned left.

The king, the princess, and the guards, following Mike and Davy, lost sight of them temporarily and turned left instead of right. When Smith and the geese reached the corner that Micky and Peter had just turned, Smith took a left and the geese took a right.

Reaching another corner, Mike and Davy found the king, the princess, and the guards racing toward them from the opposite direction.

"This way!" Mike said.

"That way!" Davy argued.

Mike ran his way and Davy ran his way. A moment later, Mike turned another corner and found himself racing along in the middle of the geese. Davy, meanwhile, had turned a different corner and discovered himself running along behind Smith.

Not far away, the king and the princess and the guards turned a corner and collided head-on with Micky and Peter. There was a wild scramble.

Micky got to his feet first and ran off in one direction. The king, the next up, set off in pursuit of him. Peter, seeing what had happened, fled in the opposite direction. And the guards, the next and last to rise, galloped after Peter.

Princess Ellie Jo did not bother to get up. She calculated how the mix-up would end, and elected to let the others come to her. And not long after, the king, Smith, the guards, the geese, and the Monkees all appeared at the same time from around different corners and met. There was a grand pile-up. Ellie Jo, unfortunately, found herself at the bottom of it.

Micky leaped up from the spaghetti of arms and legs and blew shrilly on a referee's whistle.

"Awright! Awright!" he roared. "What a bunch of bumblers! How do you think this looks from the grandstand? On your feet! Let's run through it once more, and let's get it right this time!"

Dazed, the others dragged themselves to their feet.

"Awright now, you, boy!" Micky said to the king, pointing him down the corridor. "You're my lead-off man. I want you to go straight ahead, then left, then right, then left-right, then right-left-right. Got that? Okay, you're on your own, boy. Go!"

Groggy, the king stumbled forward and disappeared down the corridor.

"Follow that king!" Micky snapped at Smith. "Let's get a little pepper into it! Hike-- one, two, three! Go!"

Smith staggered off in the direction in which the king had gone.

"Awright, geese, are you going to stand around like bunch of geese?" Micky snarled.

Honking noisily, the geese followed Smith.

"And you--" Micky said to the princess.

"You ain't gonna send me off with them losers, are you, dumplin'?" Ellie Jo asked. "Now? When you need me? When I'm the only one around who can tell you how to get to the tower?"

"Awright, you're sidelined, sister!" Micky barked. He turned to the guards. "You men in the backfield, I want you to get out there and find that line. Then I want you to hit it!" he ordered. "Let's go now!" he said, moving among the guards and patting them encouragingly on the back. "Let's win this one for the old school!"

Weaving from side to side, the guards stumbled off.

Micky smiled after them proudly. "There goes the best bunch of boys eggs can buy," he said. He turned back to Princess Ellie Jo. "Which way to the tower?" he asked urgently.

She pointed to a sign that, in turn, pointed to a stairway. The sign said: TO THE TOWER. "Just follow your eyes," she said.

The Monkees peered dimly at the sign.

"No U-Turn?" Davy asked, trying to shake off the daze.

"Free Lunch?" Peter blinked.

"Made in Texas by Texans?" Mike asked doubtfully.

Micky clapped his hands sharply. "Awright, you boys on the second team!" he snapped. "Let's show 'em what we're made of! On your toes! Follow me! Up that U-Turn, grab that Free Lunch, and remember the Alamo! Yo!"

Micky bounded up the steps, and Mike, Peter, and Davy went struggling after him. They proceded up step after step after step after step. Finally they reached a closed door. Micky tried to turn the knob, but the door was locked.

"We'll have to break it down," he said.

"Hold it-- I'm not ready," Peter said.

"What's the problem?"

"I forgot the Alamo," Peter answered.

"Awright, you stand back," Micky said. "The three of us will handle it. Ready? One, two--"

The door opened. A small man dressed in a baggy suit looked out at the Monkees. He was bald and wrinkle-faced, and his rimless spectacles were perched at the tip of his long nose.

"Vot's dot noise?" the man asked irritably.

"That was me," Peter replied. "I'm trying to remember the Alamo."

"Who you?" The man glared at them.

Peter pointed to Micky. "I'm his assistant," he answered.

"Dr. Von Durfull, I presume." Micky smiled. "We're the official button inspectors. We understand that you have a button in there that hasn't been inspected."

"Can't destroy the whole world with an uninspected button, you know," Mike said. "That could get you in a peck of trouble."

"Nobody told me about no button inspection," Dr. Von Durfull grumbled.

"It's a surprise inspection," Davy explained. "If you'd been told about it, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? See how it all works out?"

"Ya, dot makes sense." Dr. Von Durfull nodded. "Okay," he said, opening the door wider to let the Monkees pass, "but make it quick. I never had a button inspected before. It don't take long, does it?"

"How would we know?" Micky replied, leading the way into the room. "We've never inspected a button before."

Dr. Von Durfull closed the door, then joined them.

"Just a minute," Micky said. He reopened the door. "Just in case there's a regulation against inspecting a button in a closed room, or in case somebody might want to make a fast getaway," he explained to the scientist. "Now," he said, "let's see that button."

Dr. Von Durfull pointed to a small, black object that was resting on a small, square, white object. "The one on top is The Button," he said. "The one on bottom is the table."

Micky bent over the button, inspecting it closely. "Mmmmmmm... button-like, isn't it?"

"Button-shaped, too." Dr. Von Durfull nodded. "I got dot part down perfect. What beats me is what's inside the button. I just kept puttin' stuff in, a little dis, a little dot, until all of a sudden I found myself with The Button."

"I think this calls for a conference," Micky said. He motioned to Davy, Mike, and Peter. They joined him in a corner of the room.

"Why do we need a conference?" Davy asked. "There it is. Why don't we just grab it and run?"

"The problem is, how are we going to destroy it?" Micky replied. "One wrong move and we could blow up the entire world."

"Let Washington worry about that," Mike suggested.

"See? That's why we needed a conference," Micky said. "So, after putting our heads together, we could come to an intelligent, logical conclusion. Now-- let's grab it and run!"

The Monkees broke from the huddle and dived for the table. They got the table. But The Button eluded them. It dropped to the floor and rolled toward the open doorway.

"Stop, you inspectors!" Von Durfull shouted. "But's my dotton!"

"I think you mean 'dot's my button,'" Mike corrected him.

"Oh... ya," Von Durfull agreed. "I don't know the language so good."

"Get it!" cried Davy woefully. "It's rolling down the steps!"

The Monkees dashed through the doorway and raced down the stairs in pursuit of The Button.

Von Durfull watched them as they chased after it. He sighed. "Ah, vell... easy come, easy go." He shrugged.

Step by step, The Button bounced downward. Behind it, also step by step, the Monkees tumbled over one another.

Finally, The Button bounced off the bottom step and then rolled out into the middle of the corridor.

The Monkees closed in on it.

"Easy now! Don't jar it!" Micky warned. "It can't get away."

Step by step, they moved closer.

But as they neared the bottom of the stairs, they heard a sudden thundering sound.

"I think it's going to rain," Peter said.

"That's the thunder of hoofbeats!" Davy said. He peeked around the corner of the stairway. "Back!" he cried, alarmed, shoving the others out of the way.

As the Monkees watched, appalled, King Hiram went galloping past, narrowly missing The Button.

"Whew! Close!" Micky said, relieved.

"Back!" Davy cried again.

Once more a thundering was heard. Then H.P.I.Smith went charging past-- barely missing The Button.

"Now?" Mike asked.

"Back!" Davy cried once more.

The guards went galloping past-- narrowly missing The Button.

"That's the king and Smith and the guards-- and that's all," Mike said. "Can we get The Button now?"

"Back!" Davy shouted again.

From the corridor came a honking sound. Then the geese went thundering past.

"They missed The Button!" Davy cried happily.

Mike peeked around the corner. "Not yet. One more to go," he reported.

The others joined him in peeking around the corner. A solitary goose was approaching. Its wings were dragging, its tail was drooping.

"Awright, if you can't keep up the pace-- off the team!" Micky barked.

The goose honked dismally. Then, perhaps in retaliation for being kicked off the team, it struck back. It picked up The Button in its bill, raised its long neck, gulped, and swallowed.

"I'll make you a deal," Micky said. "Give us back the Button and not only will I put you back on the team, but you can also be the coach and grandstand."

The goose honked derisively.

"Get 'im!" Micky shouted.

The Monkees dived for the goose. Terrified, the goose flapped wildly out of their grasp and flew out of a window.