Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 George didn't tell Phoebe or Aunt Daisy about his plan. He figured he'd head down to the first class baggage room after they went to sleep. He'd find Mr. Burrows's crate, pry it open, and take a quick peek at the mummy. He'd be back in bed and snoring away before anyone knew he was gone. It was almost eleven-fifteen when Phoebe was finally asleep and the light was out under Aunt Daisy's door. George crept out of bed. He quickly got dressed and put his knife in his pocket. He'd need it for prying off the lid of the crate. And who

knew? Maybe there was a live cobra in the box too. George could hope, couldn't he? George opened the door and peeked into the hallway. He wanted to avoid Henry, who seemed to have eyes in the back of his bright orange head. He wouldn't like George creeping around so late at night. But the hallway was quiet. There was no noise at all except for the quiet hum of the engines, rising up from the bottom of the ship. George loved that noise. It made him think of crickets in the woods at night. In fact, being out here all by himself reminded him of the nights at home when he sneaked out into the woods while Papa and Phoebe were asleep. He'd head out when his mind was filled with restless thoughts. About why Papa was always mad at him, or why he didn't try harder in school. And of course Mama. Almost three years had passed since she died. George tried not to think about her too much. But some nights when he closed his eyes, he'd

remember her smile. Or her smell when she hugged him close. Like fresh grass and sweet flowers. And that song she'd sing to wake George up in the morning: "Awake, awake. It's now daybreak! But don't forget your dreams…." Thinking about Mama was like standing close to a fire. Warm at first. But get too close and it hurt too much. Much better to stay clear of those thoughts. Nothing cleared George's mind quicker than being in the woods. He never stayed out for more than an hour or two…. Except for that night back in October. George was heading back toward home when he heard a terrible sound, like a little girl screaming. He turned around, and in the dark distance he saw two glowing yellow eyes. Some old-timers said there were black panthers in the woods, but George never believed it.

But as the yellow eyes got closer, George could see the outline of a huge cat, with two glistening fangs. George told himself not to run. He knew he'd never outrun the panther. But he couldn't help it — he ran as fast as he could. Branches cut his face, but he didn't slow down. Any second the panther would leap up and tackle George. Its claws would tear him apart. George could feel the cat right behind him; he could smell its breath, like rotting meat. George grabbed a fallen branch. He turned and waved it in front of him. The panther lunged and grabbed the branch in its jaws.

George let go of the stick and scrambled up a tree, climbing as high as he could go. The cat dropped the branch and came after him, like a shadow with glowing eyes. George pulled out his knife.

He waited until the cat's front paws were on the small branch just below him. And then, with all his might, he chopped at the branch with his knife. Crack. The branch broke free. The giant cat tumbled through the air, screaming and crashing through the branches, and then hit the ground with a thud. There was silence. And then the cat stood up. It looked up at George for a long moment. And it turned and walked slowly back into the woods. George stayed in the tree until it was just about light, and made it into bed just before Papa woke up. His friends at school refused to believe George when he told them, even when he swore on his heart. "No way." "Big fat lie." "Next thing you'll be saying is that you've been signed by the Giants." Their laughter rose up