never tell anyone you’re a spy.”

“Right, but rule number two was to leave no trace.”

“Hmm...maybe we should blow the house up. Luckily for us, I’m prepared for all situations. I have some dynamite stashed in my snood.”

Dunder shook his head. “It didn’t work when you blew up that shed last week in Tiny Tundra. Agent C threatened to either have you shot or transferred to the military - whichever was easiest.”

Flashing an embarrassed glance at the old women, Spigot whispered, “I told you never to mention that again! It’s top, top secret! Very hush-hush.” He pulled his government-issued pocketknife from his girdle. However, it was just an empty shell; it didn’t have any blades. “Hmpf! Must be left over from the last metal shortage.” Disgusted, he tossed the knife at Dunder. “Don’t just stand there, you ninny! Use your teeth!”

“Yes, Agent Spigot, sir.” Dunder obediently dropped to his knees and started working at the rope knots with his teeth.

When the women were free, Spigot warned, “If you say anything about this to anyone, especially that girl, you will be sent to the firing squad, then have your spleens ripped out.”

“Right. Mum’s the word.” Leaning down, Dunder murmured, “By the way, can I have your cookie recipe? They were really delicious.”

“Dunder!” Spigot shouted from the doorway.

“Coming, Agent Spigot, sir.”

After Spigot and Dunder left, one old woman said to the other, “That’s the third time this month, Letty. Maybe we should move.”

Letty nodded wearily.

Meanwhile, the two ugly ‘women’ were hurrying through the nearly deserted streets. They stopped before a house that looked like any other house in Mustgo. After conspicuously ascertaining that no one was watching them, they ducked inside.

Spigot made his way through the bare, cold room to a door on the opposite side with Dunder right behind. Then the short warthog began rummaging around in his dress pockets. When he failed to find what he was looking for, he started to remove pieces of his disguise, grunting with irritation.

“Lose your key again, sir?” Dunder inquired.

“No, I did not lose it! I just can’t remember where I put it, that’s all,” Spigot said, searching in the lining of his wig.

“I have mine.”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“You didn’t ask,” Dunder said simply.

“Give me that!” Spigot swiped the key from his counterpart and inserted it into the lock, causing two doors to slide open.

They stepped into the elevator. Spigot, stretching as far as his short stature would allow, attempted to punch the ‘down’ button, but couldn’t reach it. “Dunder!”

“Sorry.” Dunder lifted Spigot so that he could press the button, then put him back down, asking, “Tell me again, Agent Spigot, sir, why are the Uslandians stealing the safe instead of us?”

“Because they are Uslandians. If the safe is stolen by them, the Shropshearians will blame them, not Thembria. If we’re lucky, it’ll even mean war between the two countries.”

“Oh.” Dunder’s brow creased in confusion. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, you dodo-brain!” Spigot whacked the taller warthog with his wig. “Of course, we were planning on war between Singamore and Shropshear, but this will be better. Usland, the soft white underbelly of the western world, won’t know what hit them.” He chortled with glee.

Just then, the elevator door opened with a ding, and they stepped out and walked through another bare room to another door. On the reinforced metal door was a gold plaque that read: M.U.M, which stood for Ministry Under Mustgo. Standing in front of the door was a hulking armed guard, who seemed to fill the entire room.

“Password,” the guard grunted, peering suspiciously down at them.

“Mellow greetings, joogie doogie,” Spigot said impatiently. “Now let us in!”

“Wrong,” the guard growled.

“Wrong? What do you mean ‘wrong’?”

“That was yesterday’s, sir. Today, it’s...” Dunder whispered in Spigot’s ear.

“I have to say that? Who makes up these passwords?”

“I do,” the unsmiling guard answered.

“And a wonderful password it is, too.” Spigot flashed an uncomfortable look at the guard. “Can’t you say it for us, Dunder?”

Dunder shook his head. “We both have to say it, or they won’t let us in.”

“Okay.” Clearing his throat, Spigot started to sing off-key, “I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

Dunder joined in, doing the actions. “This is my handle. This is my spout.”

The guard sang lustily along with them, also performing the actions. “When I get all steamed up, hear me shout, ‘Tip me over and pour me out’.”

“That song always cracks me up,” the guard said with a straight face. “Okay, you may pass.” Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the door behind him.

When the two agents had entered, the heavy metal door shut behind them with a reverberating clang.

Spigot, with Dunder following faithfully, walked down a long corridor. To either side were numerous doors. The windows in the doors allowed glimpses of a shooting range, camouflage training, the inventing rooms, the radio room, and a room so top-secret that even theydidn’t know what went on in there.

Their destination was at the end of the hall. Spigot rapped on the door before barging in. They found themselves in a room lined with filing cabinets, all locked and all labeled ‘top-secret’. Also in this room was a large metal desk. Seated behind the desk was Agent C, the stocky, stern-faced leader of M.U.M. Standing beside him, pencil and pad in hand, was his scrawny assistant.

“Who’s that?” Agent C asked of his assistant as he slammed a hand over the top-secret paper on his desk.

“Two of your agents - Spigot and Dunder,” the assistant murmured quietly.

Dunder stood just inside the door at attention. Spigot balanced on tiptoe, straining to peek over the desk.

Agent C shook his head and sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Haven’t I had them shot?”

“Not yet.”

“What is it this time, Drainpipe?” Agent C asked gruffly.

“Spigot, Your Spyfulness. Spigot.”

“Are you contradicting your superior?”

“Oh, no, sir! We’re here to report the successful completion of our mission, sir,” he said proudly while Dunder nodded stiffly.

“First time for everything,” Agent C murmured insolently.

Spigot, rocking on his feet, tittered nervously, “Yes, sir.”

Agent C wiped spit from his desk. Taking a key from his uniform pocket, he swivelled in his chair, unlocked the filing cabinet behind him, and started pulling out file after file full of papers. A moment later, he handed a stack of papers to Spigot and Dunder with a curt, “Here.”

“What’s this?” Spigot gasped, his knees buckling under the weight of the pile.

“Standard Successful-Completion-of-Mission forms,” the assistant replied.

Spigot gushed, “Oh, thank you, Agent C! It’s such an honor. We’ll get these filled out promptly and efficiently. We won’t let you down. We promise.”

“Go, Nozzle. Or you will be shot.”

“We’re going. We’re going.” Spigot backed out of the room, bowing repeatedly. Dunder picked up the stray papers that he dropped.

In the hall, Spigot said, “Isn’t this exciting, Dunder? Officialofficial forms for us to fill out.”

“Yes, sir. Lots of forms.”

“Here, take these.”

“Of course, sir,” Dunder said, adding Spigot’s papers to his own stack.

“It’ll probably take us all day. I didn’t know spy work could be so thrilling.” Elated, he hurried down the hall. Dunder, occasionally peeking around the unwieldy stack of papers, tried to keep up as best he could.

The Sea Duck
On the Road to Shropshear

Baloo, reclining in the pilot’s seat, said, “Yup. There’s nuthin’ better than helpin’ a gal in trouble.”

“Unless it’s helpin’ a pretty gal in trouble,” Louie said with a grin from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Forget it, Swami. Natalia’s a one-bear gal.”

“An’ she’s taken all the bear she can bear. It’s time she moved up in the world.” Louie removed his turban and slicked back his thick red hair.

“You mean down, shorty.” Baloo patted his head condescendingly.

“Shows how much you know. I’m the Amazing Louie.”

“Don’t see anythin’ amazing about you.” Before Louie could utter a snide comeback, he said, “Comin’ in for a landing.”

TheSea Duck descended upon Shropshear, a peaceful, pastoral country. The small village of Clipping was nestled between gently rolling green hills dotted with fluffy white sheep. Baloo landed the seaplane in a field bordering the town, causing bleating sheep to scatter in every direction.

When they alighted from the plane, a man - border collie in species - stared at them as he clip-clopped by in his horse-drawn wagon. That man wasn’t the only one who stared at the strangers. As they traversed one of the town’s four streets, curious eyes appeared at every window and door.

“Who would guess that anyone in this one-horse town would steal Natty’s jewels? How would they know about ‘em?” Baloo asked, taking in the thatched-roofed houses that looked like they had been built decades before.

“I dunno,” Louie replied as they neared the outskirts of the village. “I do know that we gotta keep our eyes peeled for the Dyed in the Wool Yarn Factory.”

Baloo abruptly halted in his tracks. “Louie, my man, I think we found it.”

“Well, pluck my face.”

They gazed open-mouthed at a huge, dome-shaped factory, the roof of which was grass-covered. From the air, it would appear to be just another hill. But this ‘hill’ was a little unusual. Fluffy sheep traveled up to the

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