Wild Moose Chase by Siobhan Rowden Page A

flung himself at the speeding train. He managed to catch hold of a rail that ran along the roof. Cam jumped next, grabbing the same rail and hauling herself up on to the top of the train. She looked across for Bert. He wasn’t there.
    â€œBERT!” she shouted in panic. But her cries were lost in the roar of the train and the blast of the wind.
    She lay down flat on her stomach and peered over the edge, still holding tightly to the rail. To her relief, there was Bert, clinging precariously to the top of a window, his legs swinging to the side with the force of the wind. Cam tried to stretch down with her arm but couldn’t reach.
    â€œHelp me,” she cried to Mr Zola. “I can’t reach Bert. My arms aren’t long enough.”
    Mr Zola was clutching the rail with both hands and legs, the tassels on his man-bag thrashing madly in the wind.
    â€œI would if I had another arm,” he screeched, “but I’m afraid I only have two.”
    Cam looked back down at Bert. To her horror, she realized that he’d lost his grip and was now just clinging on with one hand.
    â€œHold on, Bert! I’m coming!”
    She turned around and lowered her legs down, still gripping tightly to the rail. She jammed her feet just above the window frame.
    â€œGrab my legs,” she shouted. “I’ve got a good hold.”
    The wind carried her voice away, but Bert could see what she was trying to do and managed to grab her ankle with his spare hand.
    â€œClimb up me,” she yelled. “Try and get in through the window.”
    Somehow, he pulled himself level with the window and knocked against the glass. He waited for a moment and banged again before continuing to climb up Cam.
    â€œI’m all right,” he shouted. “But I can’t get the attention of the people inside. We’ll have to get back on the roof.”
    He used Cam’s head as a foothold and pushed himself up. Then he reached down and heaved Cam up beside him. They lay flat on top of the train, gasping for breath.
    â€œThe three men from the Specialist Cheesemakers Association are inside the carriage,” panted Bert. “They didn’t see or hear me because they all had their heads deep in books – How to Catch a Moose , Moose Training Tips and The Three Mooseketeers. ”
    â€œWe’ve got to beat them,” puffed Cam. “But how are we going to get inside the train now?”
    â€œWe’ll have to try another window … and Cam … maybe you haven’t got butter-toes after all … thanks.”
    Cam smiled, despite the fact that they were whizzing through the Russian countryside, clinging to the top of a train. She was just getting her breath back when Bert gave a shout and pointed to the sky. She looked up to see a bright yellow balloon sail above them, heading in the opposite direction.
    â€œPrimula Mold!” she cried.
    Bert nodded. “But she’s going the wrong way,” he yelled.
    They were interrupted by a shout from Mr Zola.
    â€œOver here,” he called.
    He had dragged himself along the rail and was pointing to a hatch in the roof. The twins followed. Bert reached across, undid the bolt and pulled it open. Cam managed to prise Mr Zola off his rail and shove him through the hole. She quickly followed, with Bert right behind. They landed in a large mound of hay.
    â€œThe standard in these Trans-Siberian carriages is not at all what I was expecting,” sniffed Mr Zola, raising his lace hanky to his nose.
    The carriage was dim. The only light came from two small windows set high in the wall. There were no interconnecting doors to the rest of the train, only a huge sliding gate which took up the whole of one side. Thick stalks of straw were scattered on the floor, hiding great lumps of steaming dung. Mr Zola resumed his grasp on Cam’s arm as a large shadow moved across the front of the carriage and a terrible wailing moo-growl