be goners. We’d be nothing but a camper

full of cat food. I felt faint. Oh, why

had I come to Ratzikistan? It was one big

mountain mess. And I was afraid of heights!

At last, we reached a clearing. It

overlooked all of the valleys below.

Grandfather pulled over. He

of the camper, clapping his paws. “Now, this

is what I call good clean air!” he squeaked,

taking a deep breath. “Someone write this

down. We need to tell tourists to stop

at this

very spot

. The view is more breathtaking than

the inside of the Cheesy Chews factory!”

My sister began typing away on her

laptop. She had been taking notes the whole

trip to put in our guidebook to Ratzikistan.

“What would I do without my darling

granddaughter?” Granddad William beamed.

Then he scowled in my direction.

68

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a caSt-iron StomacH