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pressed against the house, shivering in fear. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked the sky. Russ saw a glowing bundle disappear into the wheat and heard a chorus of high-pitched hooting. “Hooty-hoo! Hooty-hoo! Hooty-hoo!” It sounded like a cross between an owl’s eerie call and a loon’s mournful cry. It was a sound he’d never heard before.
    Russ leapt out the window and bolted across the yard. “No!” he screamed. “Shawn!”
    But the Puddlejumpers had no intention of getting caught as they careened through the wheat aboard the wagons drawn by their raccoons. Squinting into the hard rain, Buck commanded the first wagon with a skittle of Puddlejumpers crammed in the back. They hung on tightly as their wagon bounced over the muddy furrows and up the slope. Root steered the second one, Runnel riding behind with the baby. She did her utmost to keep Shawn comfortable, but he kicked and screamed, testing her already frayed nerves. Cully piloted the third wagon, hauling the sack of glowing loot.
    At the top of the ridge, where Russ’ farm ended and the woods began, Buck shouted a warning and the Jumpers ducked as their wagon shot under the split-rail fence. Root reached back to make sure that Runnel stayed low. Cully ducked, too, but his wagon slammed to a halt. He somersaulted over his coons and landed hard on his back. The overstuffed sack had wedged against the lower rail.
    Buck and Root dashed back to help Cully to his feet. He stumbled groggily, but Russ’ shouts and Pitch’s barks from the other side of the rise quickly revived him. The Jumpers pulled and pushed and squeezed the sack in a frantic effort to get it under the rail. Finally Root yanked out the quilt and the wagon barely cleared the fence. Unwilling to leave anything behind, he dragged it back to his wagon and they were off, the quilt flapping like a flag in a tempestuous wind.
    The Puddlejumpers raced desperately through the trees, searching for the hatchway. Glancing behind, Buck saw the dog bounding over the fence and charging after them. Pitch was closing in fast when Buck finally spotted the puddle beneath a giant oak. He smacked into the water like a falling star, straight and true. Root ramped off one of the tree’s exposed roots, tipping so steeply that he lost hold of the quilt before he could recover his wagon and make the passage. Cully’s wagon jumped right behind, disappearing down the puddle’s black hole into the earth.
    Just as fast as it opened, the hatchway closed. Raindrops pattered the puddle’s surface as if nothing had happened.
    Russ jumped the fence and entered the woods at a full run. Under the dark forest canopy, he stumbled and fell, scraping his chin. How can this be happening? Who would do it? He picked himself up and continued on. Why would they do it? Why?!
    Up ahead, Pitch was circling a puddle beneath one of the big oak trees. When Russ caught up, he saw that she had something between her teeth. Shawn’s quilt. He stifled a sob, his body shivering in the rain. “Drop it,” he said quietly. She obediently let Russ take it. “Good dog.” Breathing hard, he crouched to scratch her behind the ears. She whined and prodded him with her nose. “What is it, girl?” He scanned the woods, hoping to glimpse the light flitting through the trees. He put the quilt to his dog’s nose. “Okay, let’s go—you find him, you find our boy.” He started off, but the dog didn’t budge, barking and pawing the water. “Pitch, come!” Russ commanded.
    The dog barked a final time at the puddle, then joined her master running through the dark. But with the glowing light no longer ahead, there was nothing left to pursue. Russ ran anyway, shouting his son’s name, wishing the trees could answer.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The Water Kingdom
    J UST BENEATH the forest floor, the Puddlejumpers listened as the father’s shouts drifted farther