The Berenstain Bear Scouts and the Evil Eye (2 page)

4. A guaranteed Ralph-style four-leaf clover.

“Ralph better get moving,” said Lizzy. “Somebody's going for Chief Bruno.”

“Let me have your notebook, Fred,” said Brother. Fred handed it to him. Brother opened it to a blank page and wrote a short note. He pushed through the crowd, tore off the note, and handed it to Ralph.

This is what the note said:

“Good grief!” said Ralph. “I must leave you good folks. A personal catastrophe has called me away. My houseboat has broken loose and is roaring down the river.”

It was a lie, of course. Lies flowed from Ralph's lips like water from a tap. Ralph did live in a houseboat, but it was stuck in the mud so deep that it would have taken a tugboat to pull it loose.

Ralph folded up his swindle table, stuffed his fake four-leaf clovers into a plastic bag, and made a fast getaway. The scouts followed.

“I want to thank you chaps,” said Ralph as the Bear Scouts caught up and fell into step with him.

“Really?” said Brother.

“Absolutely!” said Ralph. “Your timely warning may have saved me considerable inconvenience—perhaps even a night in the hoosegow.”

“What about embarrassment?” said Brother.

“Embarrassment?” said Ralph.

“Yes,” said Brother, “the embarrassment of trying to sell those poor, pitiful, fake four-leaf clovers.”

“Brother's right. You couldn't fool a fire hydrant with those four-leaf clovers,” said Sister as they passed a fire hydrant.

“Or a gumball machine,” said Fred as they passed a gumball machine in front of Biff Bruin's Pharmacy.

“Or Grizzly Gus's flannel pajamas,” said Lizzy as they passed the Gus place, where Mrs. Gus was hanging out the wash.

They're right, thought Ralph as he looked out over the town. The whole town seemed to be mocking him: the fire hydrants, the gumball machines, the flannel pajamas. Also the houses, stores, and garages. Even the birdies in the trees seemed to be laughing at Ralph's pitiful effort to sell those fake four-leaf clovers.

Ralph slowed to a stop. He sat on the curb. It was as though he were a balloon and suddenly the air had gone out of him. The scouts were taken aback. They weren't used to seeing Ralph in such a condition. They were used to seeing him striding along in his green plaid suit, straw hat, and spats, twirling his cane, always prepared to pick a pocket, cheat an orphan, or rob a widow. It almost seemed as if suddenly the rain had started to fall up, as if fleas had dogs, as if pigs could fly.

Ralph was mumbling something. The scouts moved in close to hear. “It's over,” he was saying.

“What's over?” asked Fred.

“My career. I'm finished,” said Ralph. “Mighty Ralph Ripoff—winner of the Swindler of the Year Award, king of pickpockets, master of the sleeve card—is down to selling phony four-leaf clovers.”

He sighed. “You have no idea how bad it's been. I just seem to have lost my touch. Why, I tried to pick a pocket the other day and all I got for my trouble was a mousetrap.”

“What about that shell game?” asked Brother. “You know, the one where you have three shells and you move 'em around real quick and there's a bean under one of them.”

“Ah, yes. The old shell game.” He laughed bitterly. “My hand used to be quicker than the eye. But, alas, no more. I was working it the other day. Not only did the sucker pick the right shell, but when I picked it up there was a mouse under it eating the bean.” Ralph shook his head. “No, I've got to face it. I've lost my touch. But even worse:
I've lost my confidence.
And when someone in my line of work loses his confidence, then it's time to . . .”

“LOOK FOR A REGULAR JOB!” shouted the scouts as one.

“A regular job?” said Ralph.

“That's right,” said Brother. “A regular, honest job.”

“Hmm,” said Ralph. “What sort of job?”

“You could be a clerk in a store,” said Sister.

“Interesting idea,” said Ralph. “I could give the wrong change and pocket the difference.”

“Or checkout bear at the supermarket,” said Lizzy.

“Uh-huh,” said Ralph. “Think of all the coupons I could steal!”

“You could work in the forest with my dad, chopping down trees,” said Brother.

“In
these
clothes?” said Ralph, standing up and dusting himself off. Somehow the air had gotten pumped back into Ralph's balloon. “Look, friends, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I have to look at myself in the mirror every day just as everyone else does, and I don't think I could handle the shame of it.”

“The shame of what?” asked Brother.

“The shame of a regular, honest job,” said Ralph. He reached into his pocket and took out the plastic bag of fake four-leaf clovers. “I can let you have the whole bunch real cheap.”

“Ralph,” said Sister, “you're impossible.”

“I try to be,” said Ralph. And off he went, twirling his cane.

The scouts headed back to the library, where they had some important merit-badge work to do. They had been disappointed when Professor Actual Factual suggested that they try for the Soil Conservation Merit Badge next. “Soil conservation?” they'd complained.

“I know it doesn't sound as exciting as some of the other merit badges you've earned,” the professor had said. “But soil conservation is very important. We can't afford to lose it.”

“Lose what?” asked Sister.

“The soil,” said Actual Factual.

“The soil?” said Sister. “How can we lose the soil? It just lies there.”

“Not always,” said the professor. “As a matter of fact, we're losing soil every day. It's washing off the riverbanks into the river. We're losing it off the mountainsides.”

“Is that why we're having all those landslides in the mountains?” asked Fred.

“Exactly!” said the professor. “I'm working on the riverbank problem. I'm trying to find out if there are any plants that can hold the soil when the big rains come.”

“How is it going so far?” asked Sister.

“It's trial and error—mostly error. But I'm making progress,” said the professor. “I plant little patches of different kinds of plants, wait for a big rain, then go see which plants hold their ground.” The scouts thought about that for a moment. “I know it doesn't sound very thrilling,” he said. “But science isn't all great inventions and wonderful theories. Science is mostly hard work. Trying this, that, and the other until you find something that works.”

“We understand, professor, and we'd like to work with you on the river,” said Brother.

“Right,” said Fred. “I can work on my stone-skipping—I'm up to three skips.”

“And we can bring our bathing suits,” said Sister.

“And I can touch base with my friends the frogs and the dragonflies,” said Lizzy.

“Ah, but you won't be working on the river helping me save the riverbank soil,” said the professor. “You'll be working high in the mountains saving mountain soil.”

“Oh,” said Brother.

“That's right,” said Actual Factual. “You'll be doing original research, testing which plants can hold that thin mountain soil in place. It'll be a real challenge. Working in the mountains is difficult at best. It's going to take some real study. The library would be a good place to start. Well, what do you think? Will you do it?”

The scouts huddled for a moment. Then Brother, who often spoke for the scouts, said,

Ralph had just been putting on a show for the scouts. All that strutting and cane twirling had been a front. As soon as the scouts headed back to the library, the spring went out of his step and the twirl went out of his cane. Even the forest animals knew Ralph wasn't himself as he shuffled along the path to the river. It wasn't until he got close to the riverbank where his houseboat was moored that he quickened his step.

Except that “moored” wasn't exactly the right word. “Stuck” was the right word. The backwater where Ralph kept his houseboat was so filled with soil that had washed from the riverbank that it had turned to mud.