‘Certainly, certainly,’ mumbled Creamy pulling the pillow round his ears. He was still in the land of his dreams - bowing, shaking paws all round and murmuring politely: ‘Thank you, everyone! Thank you, thank you, thank you very much indeed! I am honoured.’
‘What you mumbling there, Creamy?! Get up!’ shouted Lennie. But a fresh burst of sound from the foghorn drowned his cries.
Lennie plodded on, and almost fell over, as he suddenly came up against the edge of Creamy’s bed. He patted the bed round, till his paws found a corner of the blanket. He clutched it, and pulled hard.
But Creamy just wriggled down, burrowing deeper into the bed.
‘Get out of this bed, Creamy! Wake up! Are you deaf or what!'
‘Yes,’ mumbled Creamy drowsily, and wrapped the blanket closer round himself.
Lennie groaned and wrung his paws. Though not a dog much given to wringing paws, he wrung them now till his knuckles cracked. He did not know what to do.
For a moment, he stood there, deep in thought. He knew what he was up against: he had to wake a sleeping bear and he had to do it fast.
Creamy always slept like a log, and did not take kindly to having his dreams interrupted. All the same, he had to be woken up and got out of the cabin very quickly. ‘But how?’ pondered Lennie feverishly.
Suddenly, he stopped wringing his paws and smiled. ‘Yes! That’s it!’
The next moment, Lennie was groping his way to the door, whispering to himself: ‘I bet that will get you out of bed in no time at all.’
Another few steps, and his paw closed round the cold steel of the doorknob. He turned it quickly.
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