Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry by Lynne Jonell

Author:Lynne Jonell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2011-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

18

“EASY—KEEP IT STEADY with the paddle while I get in,” said Joe, shoving the small canoe holding Emmy and Raston a little way out from shore.

Emmy jammed the double-bladed kayak paddle into the rocky bottom of the river and held the floating canoe in place. “Step in the middle,” Emmy reminded him. “Ratty, get out of Joe’s way—yeeouch!”

“You said to get out of the way,” said the Rat, who had run up her bare arm to her shoulder as Joe stepped into the canoe. “I can’t help it if my claws are sharp.”

“You didn’t have to draw blood,” said Emmy, examining her arm tenderly. The boat rocked suddenly as Joe sat down, and Emmy pushed off with the long, double-bladed paddle.

She looked back at the house, its west side bright in the late sun. Ana had stayed indoors, naturally. With the police looking for her, it seemed wise. But Aunt Melly had shown her the piano, the bookshelf, and the antique dollhouse, and had even dug out her father’s old medical kit so Ana wouldn’t be bored.

No one had told Ratty their suspicions about what had happened to Sissy, because no one could bear to break it to him that his sister might have been kidnapped. But Emmy had suggested that they try to find his old neighborhood, just for fun.

“Okay, Ratty,” Emmy said as they glided smoothly past the boathouse. “Mrs. Bunjee said your old nest was by the river, right? What else do you remember about it?”

The sun reflected off the water in pockets of liquid gold, sliding over the dimpled surface of the moving river, and Ratty shifted restlessly on her shoulder. “I think I remember … tree roots.”

“Hey, great clue.” Joe pointed down the main channel of the Mohawk River, lined with stately trees as far as the eye could see. “We ought to find your old nest in—what do you think, Emmy, ten years or so?”

Raston hung on to Emmy’s ear for balance. “And I suppose you remember everything about your nest when you were a baby?”

“Well, I didn’t have a nest, exactly …”

Emmy dug in her paddle, up and down in a rhythmic motion, and the drops flew off the ends in glistening arcs. “Keep a lookout, Ratty, and yell if you see anything that looks familiar.”

The stately houses on the shore gave way to a long green park with swings and a teeter-totter and a cannon, which looked as if it came from the Revolutionary War. Looming ahead was a high bridge, and Emmy, needing a rest, pulled in next to the stone abutment.

The canoe was large enough to hold two children and a rat, but small enough to slide in beneath some overhanging branches near the surface of the water. Joe grabbed an outer branch, then an inner, and hung on. In a moment the canoe was almost completely hidden, floating quietly under a tent of dense green leaves.

It felt like another world, dappled with slanting light and shifting green, and the suck and slap of the river against the sides of the little canoe was oddly peaceful.

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