“There was only one more thing to do--go into the haunted house.
“You first,” said Beaver, pushing Franklin toward the door.
It creaked open. A skeleton rattled. Chains clanged. There were moans. Franklin stepped on something crunchy.
Suddenly, a big hairy hand reached out of the darkness.
Franklin’s heart beat hard and fast. But before he could scream, a light was flicked on.
“Trick or treat!” shouted Mr. Mole.
Franklin looked around nervously. Then he laughed. The hairy hand was only Mr. Mole’s mop.
“Here’s a treat for braving the haunted house,” said Mr. Mole. “A ghost came before you. He got so scared he flew away.”
“But Bear can’t fly,” said Franklin.
“It wasn’t Bear,” explained Mr. Mole. “Bear is home sick with a nasty cold.”
Franklin shuddered. “If Bear wasn’t the ghost, then who was?”
He ran back to his friends, who were waiting in line for the haunted house.
“Was it that scary?” asked Fox. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Maybe I did,” said Franklin. He told them what Mr. Mole had said.
“You mean that Bear was never here?” asked Beaver.
Franklin shook his head.
The ghost flew over them. It swooped low and called, “Whooo!”
Rabbit twitched. “So what is white, says ‘Whooo,’ and flies?”
“A real ghost,” answered Goose. “Run!”