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“Dad!” yelled Jenna, getting out of the canoe. “I’ll help you, Dad.”

“No!” Marcia told her. “No. That’s how the Marshfire works. The bog will drag you down too.”

“But—but we can’t just watch Dad drown,” cried Jenna.

Suddenly a squat brown shape heaved itself out of the water, scrambled up the bank and, leaping expertly from tussock to tussock, ran toward Silas.

“What you doin’ in the Quake Ooze, sir?” said the Boggart crossly.

“Whaaa?” mumbled Silas whose ears were full of mud and could hear only the shrieking and wailing of the creatures in the bog beneath him. The bony fingers continued their pulling and twisting, and Silas was beginning to feel the painful cuts of razor-sharp teeth nipping at his head. He struggled frantically, but each struggle pulled him farther down into the Ooze and set off another wave of screeching.

Jenna and Nicko watched Silas slowly sinking into the Ooze with horror. Why didn’t the Boggart do something? Now, before Silas disappeared forever. Suddenly Jenna could stand it no longer and sprang up again from the canoe, and Nicko went to follow her. Boy 412, who had heard all about Marshfire from the only survivor of a platoon of Young Army boys who had gotten lost in the Quake Ooze a few years earlier, grabbed hold of Jenna and tried to pull her back into the canoe. Angrily, she pushed him away.

The sudden movement caught the Boggart’s attention. “Stay there, miss,” he said urgently. Boy 412 gave another hefty tug on Jenna’s sheepskin jacket, and she sat down in the canoe with a bump. Maxie whined.

The Boggart’s bright black eyes were worried. He knew exactly who the knotting, twisting fingers belonged to, and he knew they were trouble.

“Blinkin’ Brownies!” said the Boggart. “Nasty little articles. Try a taste of Boggart Breath, you spiteful creatures.” The Boggart leaned over Silas, took a very deep breath and breathed out over the tugging fingers. From deep inside the bog Silas heard a teeth-shattering screech as though someone was scraping fingernails down a blackboard, then the snarling fingers slipped from his hair, and the bog moved as he felt the creatures below shift away.

Silas was free.

The Boggart helped him sit up and rubbed the mud from his eyes.

“I told you Marshfire will lead you to the Quake Ooze. An’ it did, didunt it?” remonstrated the Boggart.

Silas said nothing. He was quite overcome by the pungent smell of Boggart Breath still in his hair.

“Yer all right now, sir,” the Boggart told him. “But it were close. I don’t mind telling you that. Haven’t had to breathe on a Brownie since they ransacked the cottage. Ah, Boggart Breath is a wonderful thing. Some may not like it much, but I always says to ’em, ‘You’d think different if you was got by the Quake Ooze Brownies.’”

“Oh. Ah. Quite. Thank you, Boggart. Thank you very much,” mumbled Silas, still dazed.

The Boggart carefully led him back to the canoe.

“You’d best go in the front, Yer Majesty,” the Boggart said to Marcia. “He’s in no fit state ter drive one a these things.”

Marcia helped the Boggart get Silas into the canoe, and then the Boggart slipped into the water.

“I’ll take you to Miss Zelda’s, but mind you keep that animal out me way,” he said, glaring at Maxie. “Brought me out in a nasty rash that growlin’ did. I is covered in lumps now. Here feel this.” The Boggart offered his large round tummy for Marcia to feel.

“It’s very kind of you, but no thank you, not just now,” said Marcia faintly.

“Another time, then.”

“Indeed.”

“Right, then.” The Boggart swam toward a small channel that no one had even noticed before.

“Now, you followin’?” he asked, not for the last time.

17

ALTHER ALONE

While the Boggart and the canoes were winding their long and complicated way through the marshes, Alther was following the route his old boat, Molly, used to take back to the Castle.

Alther was flying the way he loved to fly, low and very fast, and it was not long before he overtook the bullet boat. It was a sorry sight. Ten