Free Class Trip to the Cave of Doom by Kate McMullan Page B

with her. Now, he was off to hunt for that gold. And, by St. George, he was going to find it!
    The Bloodhounds marched up Huntsman’s Path. They marched through Vulture Valley. They marched around Leech Lake. And across Swamp River Ridge.
    “Halt!” Coach ordered at last.
    Wiglaf stopped. There was that lovely word halt again. He gladly dropped his pack to the ground.
    Coach took out his map. He looked at it for a long time. “We are now in the south part of the Dark Forest,” he said. Then he frowned. He turned the map upside down. “Or are we in the north part?”
    Wiglaf and Angus looked over Coach’s shoulder.
    “Zounds!” Wiglaf cried. “There must be a hundred caves on that map!”
    “We’ll be marching around here forever!” Angus said. “Let’s give up and go home.”
    “Bloodhounds never give up!” Erica cried.
    “That’s the way, Eric!” Coach said. “All right, Bloodhounds. On your feet.”
    The Bloodhounds picked up their packs. They started off. The Marleys marched behind Wiglaf. They began a contest to see which one of them could burp the loudest. Wiglaf thought they all should get first prize.
    “Coach?” Erica called out. “I made up a Bloodhound marching song.”
    “Good work!” Coach cried. “Why don’t we sing it as we march?”
    Erica sang her song through once. Then all the Bloodhounds marched through the Dark Forest, singing:
    “We’re the mighty Bloodhounds!
We’re dogged and we’re bold!
We’re the mighty Bloodhounds!
We’ll track down Seetha’s gold!
We’ll put our noses to the ground!
We’ll give a mighty sniff!
Will we ever loose the scent?
No! No! Not us! As if!
’Cause...we’re the mighty Bloodhounds!
Hear us when we yell!
We’re the mighty Bloodhounds!
And do we ever smell!”
    The Bloodhounds looked in twelve caves that morning. Most were empty. But not all. The Cave of Really-Loud-Snoring housed a family of sleeping bears. Cave Hole-in-the-Roof was full of puddles. And Jolly-Good-Times Cave was piled high with old mead flasks.
    Inside Jolly-Good-Times Cave, the Marleys started yelling and whooping and picking up the flasks. They shook them upside down over their mouths. They were hoping for a drop or two of mead, but the flasks were empty.
    “Charlie!” cried Coach. “Parley! Whatever your names are! Cut that out!”
    He lined everyone up again. Off they marched down Snakes’ Path.
    “Say, my manly men!” Coach called as they marched. “Who is going to find the gold?”
    “The Bloodhounds!” Erica veiled.
    Wiglaf hoped Erica was right. That would make all his pain worthwhile. The heavy pack hurt his back. He had blisters on every toe. He was hungry. And it wasn’t easy keeping up with Erica.
    At a bend in the road, Wiglaf heard a low growl.
    “Is that your stomach?” he asked Erica.
    “No,” she said. “I thought it was yours.”
    The growling grew louder.
    Suddenly a wild man leaped out at them! He had thick white hair. His beard hung down to his knees. He swung a pointed stick over his head and charged at the Bloodhounds!

Chapter 3
     
     
    W iglaf ran behind a tree for cover. The Marleys hid behind a big rock. Angus hid behind Wiglaf.
    Erica stood her ground beside Coach.
    The wild man shook his stick. “Danger!” he cried. “Do not go to the Cave of Doom!”
    “Doom?” Wiglaf whispered. “Did he say doom?”
    “I think so,” Angus whispered back. “I’m not going into any cave called Doom.”
    “Danger!” the hermit cried again. “Do not pass go! Do not stick rocks up your nose!”
    “Be gone!” Coach called with a toss of his head, which made his wig slide to the left.
    “First hear my tale!” the hermit cried. “It’s a sad tale. Nothing like a fish tail. More like a pig tail. Kind of twisty...”
    “Get on with it!” Coach ordered.
    “Seven brave men followed me into the Cave of Doom,” the hermit said. “We were looking for Seetha’s gold!”
    “Seetha?” Wiglaf cried. “The dragon?”
    “No,