Twenty feet. Thirty feet. His stripy backside was on the up and up.
The higher Bingo went, the better he felt. Ahh, he thought, this is what I was meant to doâclimb! He put his nose in the air. Gone was the smell of mud and decaying leaves, the common smell of the forest floor. Instead, here was a new smell, the smell of fresh pine, clean and crisp and cool. He took a deep breath. Oh, happy night! This was not at all like the dark, stuffy interior of Information Headquarters. Not. At. All. He kept going.
But just as he began his final ascent, the breeze bleeeewwww . . . the tree swwwwaaaayyyed . . . the branches creeeeeeaaaakkked.
âWhoa,â he cried. He wrapped all four paws around the trunk.
âBingo?â Jâmiahâs voice climbed up after Bingo.
Bingo could hear his brotherâs worry. He gripped a little harder. He refused to look down, and instead looked up. There was the beckoning top. He was so close, only a dozen more feet. He reckoned he could scurry up there for a quick look and then hurry down.
He heard Jâmiah call again, âBingo!â Jâmiahâs voice was worrieder than ever. Up? Down? Up? Down?
âBingo?â
Before he could make a choice, Bingo put his stripy bottom in gear and went for it . . . up . . . Up . . . UP. . . . He went right to the very tip-top!
Victory! It was glory hallelujah, get out the biscuits, my-oh-my-oh-my. Bingo reveled at the grandeur all around him. He had never looked down at the tops of trees before. He had only ever looked up through their branches. Now he could see miles and miles of treetops, dark gray shadows in the deep blue night. What a glorious sight.
In the starlight he could also see the sparkly water of theBayou Tourterelle beneath him. It had never looked more beautiful, like a silver ribbon running in curves.
He leaned back, his face turned up. Just above his head were stars galore. So many stars! They streamed across the sky, just like the bayou streamed below. And every single one of those stars was white . . . except for the one that blinked, which was red.
Hmmm, he thought. No one had ever told him about a red star. Then it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, that was what he was supposed to find. Of course!
âIâve made a discovery!â he shouted down to Jâmiah. âA red star! A blinking red star!â
Jâmiah called up, âWhat does it look like?â
âA blinking red star?â said Bingo. He thought about saying âDuh,â but he was too dazzled by the sight of it to be grumpy. Instead, he thought of two words: wowie zowie!
This was major. Nobody in the history of the Sugar Man Swamp Scouts had ever reported the discovery of a blinking red star. Then he thought, Hey, explorers get to name their discoveries, donât they?
But what does one name a red star that blinks?
He stared at the star, blinking on and off. When he looked up at the other stars, they were all so far away, but his red star seemed so close, as if it had been waiting for him, Bingo, to discover it.
It was, he decided, his special star, and it deserved a special name. The only star name he had ever heard was Twinkle. Back when he was just a kit, Daddy-O had sung a song to him about a little star named Twinkle.
No.
This was a red star and it blinked.
All at once, he knew the perfect name. âIâm going to name you Blinkle,â he announced. Rhymes with âtwinkle.â Nobody ever said raccoons werenât clever.
12
C LEVER COULD APPLY TO SOMEONE else, too, namely the World Champion Gator Wrestler of the Northern Hemisphere. Jaeger Stitch knew exactly what she wanted. Fame and fortune. She wanted it in spades.
And she knew exactly how to get it: by turning the Sugar Man Swamp into the Gator World Wrestling Arena and Theme Park. It would require taking down several hundred old trees to clear the space for the