As the carriage wound down toward the lake, it passed men carrying clubs and brightly lit torches, dozens of them. Dozens more were already at the water’s edge, so the lake seemed as if it was on fire.
When Mr. Greenly pulled to a stop, Pete and Weasel jumped down and joined Rush and Snipe.
Mrs. Greenly refused to let Margaret out. “Not on my watch, young lady. I am accountable to your father. Besides you’ve already taken minutes from my life with that horrid visit to Number 20 Piccadilly.” She shuddered, then leaned out the side window. “And you, Mr. Greenly, stay where you are, if you please.”
Pete stopped one of the men on his way to the lake. “What’s all this about?”
“We got us a monster of some kind cornered down there.” The man shoved his club in the direction of thick bushes. “We’re out to kill it. You here to help?”
“Sure.”
“Then take this. I’ll get me another.” The man handed the club to Pete and hurried down the path after the others.
Weasel grabbed Pete’s arm. “Don’t go that way. Circle around.” He pointed to opposite side of the bushes. All the men had gathered to the left of Fanon’s hiding place and none was on the right of it. “Maybe we can slip him out that side and into the water. He can swim across, then we can try hiding him someplace else until you figure out that second part of the spell and use it.”
Before Pete and Weasel took a step, Snipe stopped them. “Who’s this friend of yours anyways?”
“How much do you know about alligators?” Pete asked.
“Huh?” Rush and Snipe said at the same time.
“Fanon’s Pete’s pet, his special pet.” Weasel said. “He’s not dangerous. He just looks that way.”
Snipe scratched his chin. “What’s he look like?”
“Kinda like an alligator?” Pete said, looking at Weasel as if he needed his okay.
Weasel held out his hands, measuring how long Fanon was. “More alligator than say big dog.”
“No,” Rush said, disbelief and a little fear in his voice. “I seen pictures of alligators, but we don’t have any in England that I know of.”
“Exactly,” Pete said.
“None where I come from. That’s for sure,” Snipe said.
“Look. We’ll go in first. You stay behind and signal us if one of those guys with a club starts our direction. You can, like, whistle real low, okay? We’ll take care of getting Fanon to the water. How’s that?” Pete waited, hoping Rush and Snipe would take him up on that offer.
“All right. We’re in, we’ll stay at your back.” Snipe looked to Rush. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Rush said.
They made their way across the grassy slope and down toward where the men had cornered Fanon. As they came close to the bushes, Pete and Weasel dropped onto their hands and knees.
To Rush and Snipe, Pete whispered, “Keep an eye out for anyone coming our way, but look for us when we come out of there.” He and Weasel crawled the last few feet, while the two others squatted and set up their watch.
The men with the clubs and torches clustered near the water, going back and forth on how they were going flush out the monster.
“You go straight at it,” one said.
“The devil, you say. Let Baker have first strike. His boy’s the one what spotted it.”
“My boy? Weren’t him what saw it. Castor! Come over here!”
Pete tugged at Weasel’s shirt. “Follow me,” he whispered, and then crawled under the bushes. “Fanon,” he said in a hushed voice.
“Here.” Fanon’s voice came from the thicket. Then talking brain-to-brain, he said, “How are we getting away this time?”
“Back door again,” Pete said. “Come on. We’ve got to get down to the water, then you swim to the opposite side. We’ll come around to help you hide. You have to stay here until tomorrow. We’ll be back when Margaret can get the carriage without anybody else along.”
In a few seconds, two red eyes stared out at them.
“I’m never getting used to this,” Weasel murmured.
They moved slowly, so they didn’t make any sound and the bush didn’t quiver and give their location away.
When they came into the clear, Pete sent Fanon toward the water with Weasel alongside him, then he waved Rush and Snipe to follow. It was just dark enough to keep them from seeing what kind of “pet” Fanon was. He didn’t want to risk those Spike boys screaming and giving them away to the mob.
The water was a few feet away when the drumming sound of running feet brought him to a stop. “Dang. Hurry up, Fanon,” Pete said, looking over his shoulder at the torches coming their way.
The splash was so loud that Pete was sure Fanon had jumped from a high ledge into the lake. Water spattered him. His fancy shirt and pants were soaked. Alligators could slip into water like canoes. What was Fanon thinking? And where was Weasel?
Behind him, Rush shouted, “Watch out!”
Pete turned to face three angry men. Each one dropped his club and torch, and went for one of the boys.
The one who had Pete gripped around the middle shook him hard before setting him on his feet. “What are you doing? I thought you was out to help catch that thing, and you let it get away?” It was the man who’d handed Pete the torch. He held onto Pete’s shirt front so he couldn’t escape.
The other two wrestled Rush and Snipe into the circle of men who held their torches high to get a better look at who they’d captured.
“Hey!”someone in the back of the mob shouted. “There it is! It’s in the water. Come on men! Let’s get it.”
The man holding onto Pete let him go and took up his club, then waded into the lake and started beating the water. Others joined him.
Pete stood with Rush and Snipe as the crowd waded up to their waists, bringing their clubs down with force. Some dropped their torches and these sputtered and went out.
Then Fanon rose out of the water and, with his snout, swiped one of the men off his feet. Other men followed with their clubs overhead. Fanon whacked them with his tail, then dived out of sight.
“Keep after it!” one man yelled.
“Over here!”
“Got it!” Another beat the water with his club.
“Give me a hand, Baker!”
Pete held his breath. He couldn’t just stand there while they pulled poor Fanon out of the water and did him in. He’d use magic. He didn’t care what happened. He’d do whatever it took to save his friend.
The man named Baker waded out, grabbed something and hauled it to the surface. When he held it up, it wasn’t big enough to be Fanon. Besides it only had two legs and boots that dangled from the bottom of baggy pant legs.
“Weasel!” Pete shouted.