Free Atticus Claw Goes Ashore by Jennifer Gray Page B

map.
    Atticus went back outside and scanned the clearing. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for: some kind of path made out of …
Wait! There!
A small metallic object gleamed in the gloom. Beyond it another lay another! And another! Fishhooks! Atticus purred with pleasure. Of course! It was brilliant. Fishhook Frank had laid a trail of fishhooks for his friends to follow just in case he was rescued by the wrong pirates!
    Atticus padded from one fishhook to the next. The trail wasn’t straight. Sometimes he had to look hard in the dirt or under a plant to find the next hook. But gradually, paw by paw, Atticus found himself being led to the edge of the jungle behind the cottage.
    The trail stopped abruptly at a gnarled treestump. The final fishhook lay beside it in the grass. The map must be hidden in the hollow stump. Atticus surveyed the tree stump with distaste. It was nearly dark now, but it was still light enough to make out that the stump’s nooks and crannies were crawling with beetles. He closed his eyes, stretched out a paw and felt into the tree trunk. His stomach squirmed. He could feel the creepy-crawlies scratching at the fur on his foreleg. He gritted his teeth and dug deeper into the mouldy interior. His paw touched something hard and slippery. He tried to catch hold of it but the object slipped out of his grasp. Atticus took a deep breath. He wriggled closer to the tree trunk, trying to ignore the flutter and hum of the beetles on his whiskers. He extended his paw further into the trunk. There! Growling with the effort he managed to hook his paw around the object and flick it closer. Sitting on his haunches he put both paws into the hollow, took hold of the object’s curved sides and pulled it out.
    Atticus brushed the beetles off his whiskers and gave his paw a quick wash with his tongue. PHHTT! The leaf mould tasted even worse than seawater.
    He sat back and examined his find. It was an old biscuit tin. He started to ease the lid off with his claws.
    Just then he heard a familiar whisper of movement in the trees. Atticus looked up, startled. This time he glimpsed more than a shadow. This time he saw the animal that had been following them earlier.
    A small black cat with a grizzled muzzle and a crooked tail stepped out of the darkness and eyed him warily.
    Atticus placed the biscuit tin down carefully. The strange cat took a step towards it. Its eyes shifted towards the tin then back to Atticus. It took another step then reached out a paw and tried to hook the tin by the lid with its claws. Atticus pushed the tin out of the way and stood in front of it. He didn’t know what to do. The cat was a female, but it looked intent on a fight. Atticus hated fighting. And he certainly didn’t want to do it with an old lady cat.
    ‘Atticus!’ A voice shouted. It was Michael. ‘Where are you?’
    At the sound of a human voice, the black cat hesitated.
    ‘There he is!’ Callie yelled.
    The beam of a powerful torch wobbled across the tree stump and fell on Atticus.
    The black cat started to back away.
    ‘Wait!’ Michael said. ‘What’s that?’
    The roving light caught the small black cat in the eye. She blinked, momentarily dazzled.
    The humans rushed over, all except Mr Tucker, who limped. When he saw the small black cat, to Atticus’s amazement he gave a yelp of joy.
    ‘Bones!’ he cried. ‘It’s you! After all these years! What a stroke of luck!’

13
    Back at the ship, Bones bounced out of the dinghy and zipped up the ladder after the children. It was pitch black now but the ship had powerful lights which guided the dinghy back through the bumpy surf.
    ‘See?’ Mr Tucker beamed. ‘What did I tell youze? That cat’s got claass.’
    Atticus regarded Bones sourly as she leapt athletically on to the deck. They hadn’t exchanged any meows yet, only suspicious looks.
What was Bones doing on the island anyway?
Atticus wondered.
Had Fishhook Frank left her there? And why did she hide from Mr