The lion looked around, and his black eyes settled on Frankie.

“I guess that’s Ferox,” said Charlie with a gulp.

Opening his mouth, which looked like a red chasm, the lion roared. Frankie saw gleaming white canine teeth as long as his fingers. Slingshots, whips, hooves, nets, clubs, and tridents, thought Frankie. And now teeth and claws. Can this match get any tougher?

The whistle blew.

Ferox prowled forward and stood over the ball.

“Anyone want to try tackling him?” asked Frankie hopefully.

Louise and Charlie shook their heads.

Ferox began to walk slowly toward their goal, with the ball under his paws.

We need a distraction, thought Frankie. He turned to Max. “Better give me that bone, Max,” he said.

“No way!” said the dog. “It’s mine. Finders keepers!”

“If you don’t hand it over,” said Louise, “it might be all you have to eat for a long time. I don’t think the catering in the dungeons is five-star.”

Max grumbled, but tossed the bone to Frankie.

Frankie picked it up. “Hey, Ferox!” he called, holding the bone aloft. The lion turned his head and sniffed. “I’ve got a treat for you!”

Ferox left the ball and ran toward Frankie, who hurled the bone back over his head and watched the lion sprint after it.

Brutus reached the ball at the same moment as Louise. She bounced off the mountain of muscle and landed on her backside.

“Pass it!” called Snatcher.

Brutus set off toward the goal in lumbering strides.

“To me! To me!” shrieked Captain Lasher.

Brutus didn’t even look up from the ball.

He wants the glory for himself, thought Frankie. We’ll see about that.

“Charlie, get out on the wing,” he said, dashing after Brutus. “Hey, big guy!” he shouted.

Brutus looked up, grimaced, and swung his club. Frankie dropped into a slide, skidded beneath the club, and managed to get his foot to the ball. He looked for Charlie and saw him moving toward the goal. Frankie passed the ball and watched it fly straight to his friend.

“Great pass!” yelled Louise. “Shoot, Charlie!”

Charlie managed to control the ball. He slammed it toward the goal.

Frankie raised his arms to cheer….

SMACK!

The ball stopped dead as three metal prongs stabbed it into the ground.

“It’s not over yet!” Snatcher cried. As Charlie chased after the ball, the gladiator swished his net across the ground, flicking sand into Charlie’s face.

“Hey!” Charlie said. “I can’t see!” He staggered back and forth, trying to wipe the sand out of his eyes.

“Take your gloves off!” shouted Louise.

She might as well tell Max to take off his fur, thought Frankie, turning as he heard pounding hooves and rattling wheels.

Captain Lasher was heading for the ball, and Charlie stood right in her path, stumbling blindly. Frankie started running toward his friend.

“Move left!” yelled Louise.

Charlie sidestepped.

“No, my left!” she cried. “Your right.”

Charlie went the other way.

Captain Lasher was closing in on him. “He’s mine!” she said.

Snatcher was twirling his net, ready to throw it over Charlie’s head. “No, he’s mine!”

A plan came to Frankie’s mind. “Stand your ground, Charlie. Get ready!” He put on an extra burst of speed.

“I’m … I’m always ready!” said his friend.

Frankie reached Charlie a split second before the chariot. Snatcher’s net fell like a shadow overhead. Frankie slammed into his friend, knocking him out of the way.

“Move it!” screamed Captain Lasher.

“Stop!” yelped Snatcher.

Frankie and Charlie landed in a heap. Looking back, Frankie saw Snatcher being dragged along behind the chariot, his net tangled in its wheels. Captain Lasher was hanging on to her reins as the horse galloped around the arena.

“Fools!” roared Brutus. “You let th ― ARGH!” He didn’t finish his sentence as he was sent spinning by the chariot as it charged past him.

Louise tugged the trident free of the ball. “Let’s finish this,” she said.

But as they turned toward the goal, something very big, very hairy, and very fierce filled the space between them and the goalposts. It ran its tongue down one of its tusklike teeth. “You forgot about me, didn’t you?” Ferox said.

Charlie, finally able to see again, joined Frankie and Louise. “Any more bright ideas? I don’t want to dribble the ball around those claws.”

Frankie was about to volunteer when Max trotted up and nosed the ball. “Well, if none of you are brave enough …”

As Max the dog walked toward the goal, Ferox the lion strode out to meet him.

“I don’t want to look,” said Charlie.

When they were a couple of feet apart, Ferox roared, blasting Max’s fur like a hurricane.

Max sat back on his haunches, his front paws tucked under the ball.

Frankie began to understand what he was up to – they’d practiced this trick in his backyard last Sunday.

“Aren’t you scared?” asked Ferox.

“Why would I be scared?” Max growled.

“Because I’m a lion,” said Ferox. “And you’re a puny little dog. I wouldn’t even have to chew.”

Frankie saw Max quiver and edge forward.

“I know that,” said Max. “But the thing is …”

“Yes?” growled Ferox, drool spilling from his lips.

“The thing is,” said Max, “I’m just causing a distraction.”

Max suddenly sprang up, flicking the ball high in the air. Ferox jerked his body to follow its arcing path … right to Frankie, who lifted his right foot, twisted his hips, and connected perfectly.

The ball flew between the posts.