nce there was a field mouse named Tripp, the great-grandson of Captain Jamal who was of high repute until he disappeared while searching for a treasure every mouse dreamed of—a legendary basket of cheese and jar of milk which magically refilled themselves. A tornado over the ocean swept up the captain's ship and neither he nor a chip of wood from a plank of his staunch vessel were ever seen again.
One night there was a rat-a-tat-tat at Tripp's door. A hooked claw slipped through the crack to pick the latch. Powdery snow drifted in small whirlwinds around the twisted silhouette of a bat. The mysterious stranger scampered into the light to reveal ghostly white hair and smiled through whiskers with a mouthful of crooked teeth, "Dost this be the 'ouse o' Cap'n Jamal's descendant?"
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