The Story Shell: A Tale of Friendship Bog (4 page)

BOSS waddled along beside Friendship Bog as if he owned it, all the way past Dip’s Bridge. Finally he splashed into the water, and they swam for a long time.

He crawled ashore at a swamp. “Too much swimming,” he said. “I know a shortcut through Green Swamp.”

Bright green moss floated like rafts on the puddles of dark water, and grass and tall cedar trees grew thick on every side. Pibbin had never seen a swamp that was so wet and so green.

They came to a place where dead trees had fallen across each other, and it looked as if someone had dropped a handful of huge sticks into the swamp.

Pibbin slipped beneath the fallen trees and kept hopping. He began to think that this swamp would go on forever.

BOSS stretched tall to look ahead. “We’re almost there,” he said. “I see a clearing.”

The clearing turned out to be full of bushes, with a lot of sand and prickly vines.

BOSS didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

He hummed a little song as he waddled along, and Pibbin didn’t have much trouble keeping up with him.

BOSS took off his cap. He threw it into the air and caught it, again and again. “Like my new cap?” he asked. “See what it says?”

“Sure,” Pibbin said. “So, what are you the boss of?”

“Nothing. Not yet. Ma calls me that.”

“What’s it mean?”

“
B
eaver of
S
uper
S
kill.”

Pibbin hopped more slowly. “Skill?”

“I’m good at stuff,” BOSS said. “I can make things out of branches. I take the thin ones and weave them together. I made baskets for Ma and a house for my little friend. To keep him safe.”

He started humming again.

Pibbin wanted to ask about the friend, but he was getting tired. The sun was too hot, and the sand was too dry. And this shortcut was too long.

He should have waited for Leeper.

After a while, BOSS wasn’t humming any more. “Let’s see,” he said. He tossed his cap into the air, and it landed upside down. “Okay, let’s go this way.”

He turned to one side, and Pibbin followed.

This way had more sand and prickles and bushes, along with a few trees.

Finally BOSS stopped.

He sat down in the shade of a tree. “I guess it’s not a very good shortcut. We might be lost.”

Pibbin sat beside him. “You said you knew where everyone lives.”

BOSS took off his cap and fanned his face. “Almost everyone. We just moved here, and I get mixed up. I know where everyone lives on the
river
.”

“Where’s the river?”

BOSS curled up by the tree, as if he were thinking about a nap. “I’m not sure, right now.”

Pibbin gazed up at the tree. It was a tall pine, not bad for climbing.

If he didn’t do something, they’d be here all day, and he’d never find the shell.

Why not go up and take a look around?

The tree’s rough bark was easy to hang onto, and it had plenty of branches. Soon he was high over the bushes.

A bit of rippling water gleamed, not far away. The river!

He hurried down to tell BOSS. “If we go past that oak tree and through those bushes, we’ll get to the river.”

“Yippee!” BOSS stood up. “It’s time for lunch. We can ask Ma about that squirrel’s house.”

When they reached the river, BOSS looked up and down it for a while.

Were they still lost? Pibbin ate three orange bugs for a snack.

“Okay,” BOSS said at last. “I know where this is.”

He slid into the water. “We can float down to my house. Easy.”

Yes, it was easy, and Pibbin didn’t mind that part. He liked the cool water and the breeze in his face. But it was way past mid-day. How long would this take?

Leeper was probably waiting for him at Woodpecker Log.

They passed one beaver lodge after another, but BOSS didn’t say anything.

Finally they reached a lodge near the shore. To Pibbin, beaver lodges looked like untidy piles of sticks and mud. This one looked even worse, and its roof seemed to be torn apart.

BOSS smiled. “That’s my house! We’re still working on it. Let’s hurry! I’m so hungry I could eat a whole tree.”

A minute later, he showed Pibbin the underwater tunnel that led from the river up into the lodge. At the end of the tunnel, BOSS pulled himself out of the water, and Pibbin followed.

He was standing on a platform covered with wood chips. All he could see was a big dark room that smelled musty.

A box with a lid stood by the entrance, and BOSS gave it a pat. He called into the shadows. “Ma! What’s for lunch?”

A plump beaver waddled toward them with a smile. “I made water-lily pie. Where have you been all this time?”

BOSS sat down and began stuffing the pie into his mouth. “Looking for some squirrel’s house. Zip, I think they called her.”

Mrs. Beaver nodded. “Such a nice person. She’s fixing up her house in that big old tree near Carpenter Point.”

Pibbin knew where that was. You passed a bunch of yellow water lilies and a beaver dam on the way.

BOSS had taken him to the wrong end of the bog.

“Hmmm,” BOSS said, still chewing.

Mrs. Beaver smiled at Pibbin. “So you have another frog friend? He’s a pretty one.”

BOSS grinned. “I like frogs.”

Something in his voice made Pibbin’s toes clench. He hopped toward the underwater tunnel where they’d come in. Time to leave.

BOSS stood up. “Let me show you my little friend.”

The lid of the box was held in place by two loops of vine and a forked stick.

BOSS pulled out the stick and pushed the lid aside. “C’mon!”

First, Pibbin had to climb up onto the top edge of the box. He looked down inside.

All he could see was leaves and acorns, and a few sticks. In the corner was something that looked like a handful of crumpled grass.

Leeper.

Pibbin could not think or move.

BOSS said, “Do you know him? Why don’t you go on down and say hello?”

Pibbin jumped backward off the box. Get to the water.

No, BOSS was there.

Hide. Under this pile of branches.

No, BOSS was after him.

The branches scattered.

Behind this basket.

No, BOSS had seen him.

Jump high, right over that beaver kid!

Run along the wall.

Climb these sticks.

Nowhere to hide. Nowhere!

A big paw closed over him. Sharp claws kept him from squirming out.

The paw opened, and he fell into the bottom of the box.

BOSS laughed. “Did you see that, Ma? I’m pretty fast! Frogs are fun.”

Pibbin stopped listening to the beaver. He crept over to his pal.

“Wonk?”
he said softly.

Leeper’s eyes opened. “Hi, Pib,” he said. “Nice to see you again.” He stretched out his back legs and groaned.

Pibbin looked at the sore places. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, the dog. Got any food in your pack?”

“Sure. Want a dried-beetle bar? Or a couple of Skitter’s cookies?”

“I don’t care.”

Pibbin opened his pack. What was this about a dog? He’d ask later.

He sat next to Leeper and fed him bits of a cookie. Finally, Leeper could sit up.

“Nothing to eat for days,” Leeper said. “Kid kept giving me leaves and sticks. And nuts.”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Pibbin said.

“You, maybe. I can hardly walk.”

Pibbin shook his head. “We’ll go together.”

But what about the beavers? They were still nearby, talking.

Mrs. Beaver’s voice was getting louder. “No, you cannot take a nap. You get right outside and watch the babies. I’ve got work to do.”

BOSS said something in a grumbling voice, and Pibbin heard a splash.

“At least he’s gone,” Pibbin whispered. “I hope she forgets about us.”

He tried slipping a hand through the wall of the box, but the branches were woven too tightly.

He thought about the forked stick that held the lid closed. Quietly he climbed up a wall to look at it.

The stick was still in place, keeping the two loops together. A pretty good lock.

The lid didn’t fit very well, and he discovered a tiny bit of space around it. He slid his arm through, but he couldn’t reach the lock.

He dropped back down to the bottom and told Leeper what he’d found.

“We need a plan,” Leeper said. He always said that. Then he would say what the plan was.

Pibbin checked each wall of the box, in case one of the branches was loose, and he waited.

After a minute, he glanced at Leeper. Asleep!

Now what?

Pibbin sat and thought. What about those sticks in the corner?

He could take one of them and push against the forked stick. Would it fall out of the loops?

Then, could he move the lid to one side?

And then, could he somehow get Leeper up the wall?

He put on his backpack. Try it!

The first part of his plan went fine. The stick fell out, and the lid moved when he pushed on it with both hands.

But Leeper could not climb the wall. “That’s straight up,” he said. “I’m no treefrog.”

He huddled in the corner. “I can’t even jump. My leg hurts.”

Pibbin went back to the pile of sticks and pulled out the longest one. He stood it in the corner next to Leeper and let the top part lean against a knobby branch, far up on the wall.

“Try that,” he said. “It’s like a fallen tree. All you have to do is walk up it.”