The Claygate Hound (2 page)

“I expect she overheard,” Ryan said sensibly.

“Didn’t you think that stuff about the hound was creepy?”

“It was great,” Ryan said. “It’s about time somebody scared Billy Dunmore. Come on, let’s check out the adventure playground.”

It was amazing. There was a mini assault course, a whole jungle of scramble-nets and platforms in the trees.

Mr Weston set a challenge. He put a bag of chocolate bars right in the centre of the nets, then split the class into two teams –
girls against boys. Each team started from opposite ends of the course. The first team to get all its members to the chocolate got to eat the winnings.

The girls won.

“Not fair,” Martin complained. “It was easier from their end!”

“Rubbish,” Mr Weston said. “They won fair and square.”

Zeb and Ryan loved the nets. They stayed there until dark. Everyone else had gone inside. Then, a cold, unearthly moan rose from the woods and echoed in the darkness. Suddenly the playground did not feel safe. The nets cast sinister shadows and the trees shivered in the wind, dark and forbidding.

Ryan and Zeb looked at each other. What if Billy was right? What if the dark shape they had seen running through the trees really was a ghost dog? They scrambled down from their platform and hurried back indoors.

Lights out was at ten, but the boys were too excited to sleep. Martin ran round pulling duvets off the bunks. Soon a full-scale pillow battle was underway.

“Enough!” Mr Weston’s face was like thunder.

Finally the boys settled. Ryan reached under his pillow and felt for his lucky tin. It looked like junk – all battered and scratched with a huge dent in the lid. But it was very special indeed. It had once belonged to his grandad – and it had saved his life.

Grandad had been a soldier in the war. He had carried this old tin in his breast pocket.
Once it had stopped a bullet. The dent was where the bullet had bounced off the tin. If the tin hadn’t been there, the bullet would have gone straight into Grandad’s heart.

It had been Grandad’s lucky tin and now it was Ryan’s. He kept it with him all the time. It was his most precious thing.

He was almost asleep when Billy started to whisper. “There
is
a ghost dog… an enormous hound… its eyes are like fire and its howl can freeze your blood. And whoever sees it is doomed…”

Ryan’s heart beat faster. He gripped his lucky tin tightly. He knew it was stupid to let Billy scare him, but the unearthly howling from the woods echoed in his memory.

There was
something
out there.

Zeb remembered the howling too. “Shut up, Dunmore, we’re trying to sleep,” he snapped.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed. “I’m whacked. Put a sock in it.”

But Billy went on, “If you see the Claygate Hound, you
die”
he said and gave an evil chuckle. “It roams the woods looking for its next victim. And whoever sees it
dies… horribly…”

What if Billy’s right? Ryan wondered. Why am I the one who saw it in the trees? Why am I the one who keeps hearing it? What if it’s coming to get me?

Outside the trees creaked and moaned. The wind was rising. Above its wild swishing, Ryan was sure he could hear a ghostly howl.

It was funny how lessons didn’t seem so bad when you weren’t in a classroom. Everyone worked so hard that Mr Weston gave them extra free time. Ryan and Zeb decided to spend it exploring Claygate Woods.

No one else chose the woods. Being alone made them feel more adventurous – like real explorers.

Dozens of small paths wound through the trees.

“It’s like a maze,” Ryan said.

“Let’s cut through here.” Zeb pointed to a shadowy gap in the bushes.

In his pocket Ryan rubbed his tin for luck. “OK,” he said. “Let’s go for it.”

They pushed through the undergrowth until they reached a clearing. In the middle was a tumble-down ruin. Most of the walls were just rubble, but one still stood tall. It was covered with dark green ivy. There were plenty of footholds and handholds.