Figaro and Rumba and the Crocodile Cafe (3 page)

‘Yes, mighty fine it was too, but then I realised that I'd been fishing for a long time and Nate still wasn't back. So I dived in the river. I hollered until my whiskers nearly fell off, but there was no answer.' Rat began to cry. ‘Nate doesn't swim so well, you know.'

‘You need someone to look for Nate,' said Figaro. ‘Someone with a great sense of smell, who runs like the wind and swims like a fish. That'll be me.'

‘What about the Very Fast Train?' asked Rumba.

‘We'll just have to go another time,' said Figaro gravely. ‘Our friends need us here.'

So Rumba put the sausages back in the fridge.

Down at the river, Figaro found the canoe. But there was no sign of Nate.

‘Look, there's a hole in the canoe,' moaned Rat. ‘A sharp stick could have done it.'

‘Or a killer shark,' said Figaro.

‘There aren't any killer sharks in the river,' said Rat.

‘I knew that already,' said Figaro. ‘And see, this plastic is too thin. They don't tell you that on the TV ads, do they?'

Rumba looked at the droopy canoe. ‘Where is Nate if he isn't with his canoe? Figaro, you had better run like the wind along the bank. We'll search here.'

Figaro took off, his nose to the ground.

‘Don't worry, Rat, you couldn't have a better dog on the job,' said Rumba.

Figaro sniffed his way along the bend in the river. He slipped in and out of the mangroves. The roots were thick and close together, like teeth in a comb. He went further up the river than he had ever been before. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes grew red and sore. There must be bitey things in the grass, he thought, because his lips and nose were itching like fire.

He slid down the muddy bank, into the water. Strangly weeds pulled at his feet. He kicked out his legs and began to swim. Nate is not as strong as me, he thought. I hope he didn't have to fight these worrisome weeds.

Figaro swam up the river. Even though he hated putting his head under, he dived below to have a look. But all he saw were silvery fish flashing past like underwater lightning.

The fish were so sparkly he tried to follow them, but they swam too fast.

Soon he could hardly breathe he was so tired. His eyes began to close. His front paws stopped paddling.

Suddenly there was water in his nose and mouth instead of air. ‘I'm choking!' he spluttered. ‘Help!' He gulped in more water.

Then he glimpsed something moving in the mangroves. The thing was sliding down the bank. But Figaro was sinking again. His legs stretched as far as they could go, trying to find the bottom. There was none. Just lots and lots of horrible water.

Figaro tried to lift his head again and take a breath. Then something nudged him hard. Something big.

‘
Shark!
' yelped Figaro.

He struggled wildly. His heart was thudding in his chest. Rat doesn't know everything, he thought. He was making big blinding splashes. And then he saw something that made him stop splashing.

Figaro barked with joy. He coughed and laughed and sank and wagged his tail. He was NOT staring into killer-shark eyes. He was staring at Nate, his mate!

‘Just put your paw on my shoulder,' said Nate, ‘and I'll tow you ashore like a tug boat.'

Figaro didn't want to swallow any more water. So he did as he was told.

After he had shaken himself almost dry, Figaro said, ‘Where were you? Rat was just about fainting with worry.'

Nate yawned and stretched. ‘Blasted canoe got a hole in it. I just left it on the riverbank and swam ashore. I meant to walk back, but I was so tired after blowing the blasted thing up, I thought I'd just take a little nap. Lucky for you I did, eh?'

‘Yes, I'll say, otherwise I'd…but then, I'd never have been out here looking if you –'

Nate sat up suddenly. ‘Fig, what time is it? Oh, drat and blast, I was supposed to meet the Very Fast Train!'

Figaro sat up with him. ‘Me too! Maybe we can still catch it! Let's go, go, go!'

Nate hopped on Figaro's back and hung onto his ears. They bounded along the grass, through the mangroves, past the bend in the river, back to Rat's fishing spot.