Just then, the Wickersham Brothers (who happen to be monkeys) swing down and snatch up Horton's clover.
We're not cool with all this monkeying around. (Sorry, we had to.)
The bros pass it along to an eagle named Vlad Vlad-i-koff—natch—and ask him to get rid of it. Poor Horton watches on helplessly, mouth agape in horror.
The eagle flies on, and Horton chases after it, over mountains and hills and through the jungle. His body aches but he's determined to save his little friends. This guy's a fighter.
The eagle, meanwhile, threatens to hide the clover where Horton will surely never find it.
Sure enough, the next morning, he drops the clover into—wait for it—a whole patch of clovers a hundred miles wide. How in the world is Horton supposed to find one clover in the gazillions of clovers in that field?
Horton is a true friend, though, and goes through all the clovers, picking each one up and calling for the Whos. By noon, he's already gone through nine thousand and five clovers. Yep, 9,005. Whew.