“What’s the trouble?” asked the General, joining Gogo at the window.
“Oh gracious me,” wailed Mrs. Mouse, “I’m scared half out of my senses, for I’m afraid that old cat that lives next door might get in the cellar, and to think what would happen to my poor crippled husband just frightens me half out of my wits.”
“We’ll not desert you, madam,” said the General kindly. “We’ll come over immediately and take your husband home.”
The Teenie Weenies soon dressed themselves, and Gogo hurried over to the hospital to call the Doctor.
“Hadn’t we better take along one of the wagons?” asked the General, when the Teenie Weenie physician arrived.
“A wagon wouldn’t do,” answered the Doctor. “We could never take Mr. Mouse home in a wagon. Why, it would jar the poor mouse’s injured legs until he couldn’t stand the pain.”
“Great grief!” cried the General, “how in the name of ripe cherries are we going to move him?”
“Very simple matter,” said the Doctor. “We can carry him in a hammock, which we can make out of a sheet or tablecloth. This can be hung on a pole and we can carry him on our shoulders.”
“I know where there’s a pole that will be just the thing,” shouted the Turk. “Come on, Gogo, and we’ll get it.”
The two Teenie Weenies hurried away in the darkness and presently they returned with a long handled paint brush.