Figaro and Rumba and the Crocodile Cafe by Anna Fienberg Page A

this bag won’t pack itself. I’ve put in the spicy sausages and mango juice –’ ‘I told you they’ll have all that on the train,’ said Figaro.
    Just then there was a knock at the door. Rat huddled on the doorstep, dripping wet.

    â€˜Hello, Rat,’ said Figaro. ‘What’s up?’
    Rat wiped the water off his whiskers. ‘Oh, Figaro, something terrible has happened.’ He sneezed loudly. ‘It’s Nate, he’s missing!’
    â€˜Oh, is that all,’ said Rumba. ‘Do you know what time it is? Morning . Nate never gets up till noon. No use knocking on his door.’ Rumba looked at the puddle around Rat. ‘Would you mind drying off outside?’

    â€˜No, you don’t understand, I saw Nate only an hour ago,’ said Rat. ‘He came down to the river to try out his new canoe.’
    â€˜I’ve seen those canoes on the TV ads. They look great! They’ve got oars and everything,’ said Figaro.
    â€˜Yes. But you have to blow up the canoe yourself. It took Nate ages. He was all out of breath and shaky when he’d finished. Then he took off up the river.’

    â€˜Well, he’s just lazing about in the canoe then,’ said Rumba. ‘Watching clouds. Look, Rat, it’s nice you came to visit and all, but we’re catching the Very Fast Train today.’
    â€˜Yes, do you want to come?’ asked Figaro.
    â€˜No, you see Nate said he would be back soon because his cousin will be on that train and he has to meet her. You know the one. Nancy. Loves dancing. So, like I said, there I was, just fishing, and dreaming – ’ ‘Was that a perch you caught?’ asked Rumba.
    â€˜Yes, mighty fine it was too, but then I realised that I’d been fishing for a long time and Nate still wasn’t back. So I dived in the river. I hollered until my whiskers nearly fell off, but there was no answer.’ Rat began to cry. ‘Nate doesn’t swim so well, you know.’

    â€˜You need someone to look for Nate,’ said Figaro. ‘Someone with a great sense of smell, who runs like the wind and swims like a fish. That’ll be me.’
    â€˜What about the Very Fast Train?’ asked Rumba.
    â€˜We’ll just have to go another time,’ said Figaro gravely. ‘Our friends need us here.’
    So Rumba put the sausages back in the fridge.

    Down at the river, Figaro found the canoe. But there was no sign of Nate.

    â€˜Look, there’s a hole in the canoe,’ moaned Rat. ‘A sharp stick could have done it.’
    â€˜Or a killer shark,’ said Figaro.
    â€˜There aren’t any killer sharks in the river,’ said Rat.
    â€˜I knew that already,’ said Figaro. ‘And see, this plastic is too thin. They don’t tell you that on the TV ads, do they?’
    Rumba looked at the droopy canoe. ‘Where is Nate if he isn’t with his canoe? Figaro, you had better run like the wind along the bank. We’ll search here.’
    Figaro took off, his nose to the ground.
    â€˜Don’t worry, Rat, you couldn’t have a better dog on the job,’ said Rumba.
    Figaro sniffed his way along the bend in the river. He slipped in and out of the mangroves. The roots were thick and close together, like teeth in a comb. He went further up the river than he had ever been before. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes grew red and sore. There must be bitey things in the grass, he thought, because his lips and nose were itching like fire.
    He slid down the muddy bank, into the water. Strangly weeds pulled at his feet. He kicked out his legs and began to swim. Nate is not as strong as me, he thought. I hope he didn’t have to fight these worrisome weeds.

    Figaro swam up the river. Even though he hated putting his head under, he dived below to have a look. But all he saw were silvery fish flashing past like underwater lightning.
    The fish were so sparkly he