Fish by L.S. Matthews Read Free Book Online Page B

before we knew it, me and Dad almost trod on top of the Guide as the donkey had stopped suddenly again.
    “Oh no,” groaned Dad for the second time. But the donkey thought for a moment and then moved sideways and started to stretch for a branch with a few leaves on it that was lying on the surface of the mud.
    “
That's
why she stopped. No you don't, you cheeky devil,” and before anyone could stop him, Dad sloshed and slurped his legs across to head the donkey off before she could reach the stick.
    It was as if Dad had just stepped straight into a big hole. There was the horrible dropping-down sensation again and the surface of the mud seemed to riseup to meet me. This time, the sinking stopped with less of a thud than when Dad had fallen on the path. The mud was level with my feet and his waist and Dad had managed to stay upright.
    No one moved or said anything for a moment, and Dad stood very still, hardly breathing. The donkey looked puzzled for a moment and then reached for the branch anyway, dragged it across, and nibbled the leaves off while everyone looked at me and Dad.
    “What was all that about, eh?” said the Guide, sounding cross for the first time. “Stand still, now, stand still,” he called, as if afraid of what Dad might do at any moment. I could feel Dad standing stock-still with shock, so I could have told the Guide he wasn't about to rush off.
    “I think I'm stuck anyway,” called Dad, over his shoulder, because his back was to the Guide, who was floundering toward us. I turned and looked at Mum, who was hurrying in our direction too, but remembering to be very careful to test the ground with her stick, as the Guide had told us.
    When they reached us, the Guide managed to turn Dad around to face him, and took both his hands, which was difficult, as both of them were also keeping hold of their sticks. Mum planted herself firmly to one side of the Guide and made as if to lift me off, over Dad's head.
    “No, no, you will just fall forward with the weight and both you and the child will be in the deep mud as well. Take a hold of Tiger's backpack straps, and pull toward us when I say,” said the Guide.
    I didn't like to hear his voice worried and irritated. Nothing had bothered him up till now. I took it as a bad sign. We were not going to make it out of this.
    With the Guide and Dad grasping each other's forearms, and Mum gripping tight to my bag straps in front of my shoulders, Dad said:
    “OK, ready,
pull!
”
    Three things happened at the same time:
    Mum and the Guide each gave a tremendous pull.
    As we lurched forward, a huge, tatty bird swooped low across my head as if from nowhere, and I duckedand screwed up my eyes and maybe, I admit, screamed.
    At the same time, there was a dull ping from the bag on my back, and a muddy splosh from behind me. I was still on Dad's back, but with the combined efforts of Mum and the Guide he managed to move back to safety.
    As Dad's feet landed on the safe ground alongside Mum and the Guide, so that he was only knee-deep again, I shrieked and twisted round to look behind us.
    “Steady, Tiger, you'll have us in again!” cried Dad.
    “But the Fish! The Fish! Mum!”
    The cooking pot had landed on the surface of the deep mud, and was sinking rapidly.
    You never know with Mum. For all my frantic shrieking, I still didn't know if she realized how important it was to save the Fish. She might well have said, “Oh for goodness’ sake, Tiger, you and Dad might have been killed. Stop going on about a fish!”
    But she darted her arms out to grab the pot, not taking a step from the safe ground, and grabbed the stringtied to the handles. She pulled, but the string was slithery with mud, and her hands flew off. The pot was still sinking.
    She bent down further and grabbed both the pot's handles and pulled.
    “It's stuck! I don't believe it! It's stuck faster than you or Dad!”
    “The Fish! Save the Fish!” I screamed now, despairing.
    Mum said afterward that it