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“I—well, just a shadow,” said Mr. Dimmonds in annoyance. “But bigger than anything that lives in the lake, I’ll tell you that!”
Ms. Zintner sighed. “Of course.”
“Phil,” said Ollie. “We need to know—”
“Go away,” said Phil, turning his back to him. “You guys don’t care; don’t pretend you care. I don’t have to talk to you at all.”
Abruptly Coco turned toward the adults and called, “Mr. Dimmonds, do bells have anything to do with time? Like a time of day?”
Mr. Dimmonds said, “Hm, well—that’s how you used to tell time on board sailing ships, warn’t it? A bell every half hour.”
Bell, thought Brian. But Coco had already taken the question out of his mouth. “When is one bell?” asked Coco.
“Depends on which watch it is,” said Mr. Dimmonds. “Day was broken up into six, ya know. Six watches, with eight bells each.”
“Do—any of the watches have anything to do with dogs?” Ollie broke in.
“Well—there’s a dogwatch,” said Mr. Dimmonds. “That’d be the fifth one. One bell in the dogwatch is . . . about four thirty, I’d say. Right around now, come to think of it.”
Brian’s stomach clenched up. The three exchanged glances. Ollie was looking down at her watch. fish. “Phil needs to quit fishing,” she said.
But Phil had caught something while they weren’t looking; he was struggling with his reel, his rod bent almost double.
“Whoa!” said Mr. Dimmonds, hurrying over. “Did you catch a shark, son?”
“Phil, let it go,” said Brian.
“No way!” said Phil, panting. The fishing rod was about to be yanked out of its holder. Phil held on with both hands. Mr. Adler leaped to help. So did Mr. Dimmonds. “Phil,” Coco said. “Please, whatever it is, let it go.”
“No way,” said Phil again. “It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever caught!”
“Good lord,” said Mr. Dimmonds, feeling the weight on the fishing pole. “Here, lemme . . .” They all strained together.
“Let it go!” chorused Ollie, Coco, and Brian, just as a slim silver thing, maybe four feet long, popped out of the water thrashing, swung aboard, and landed on deck, still thrashing. It was—not as scary as Brian had been expecting.
Coco said shakily, “Is that a fish?”
“Kind of skinny for a fish, isn’t it?” said Coco’s mom.
“Looks like—” started Mr. Dimmonds.
“A snake,” said Phil, staring. “Looks like a snake. A water snake?”
“Throw it back!” snapped Ollie.
“Hang on: I didn’t know there were water snakes in the middle of Lake Champlain,” said Mr. Adler. “Cool!” He was eyeing the thrashing silver creature with interest. It twisted back and forth on the deck.
Phil reached down to grab the thing behind the head, but Ollie lunged forward and hauled him back. “What?” demanded Phil. “What’s your problem?”
“It has fangs,” said Ollie.
Death, thought Brian. “Stay away from it!” he cried.
Phil jerked back. The fangs were small. But they were definitely there. Thin black liquid was oozing out of one of them. It had teeth like needles. Fiercely the snake thing bit at the deck. Then it lunged at Ollie. She leaped back. “We need to get rid of it!” she cried.
Phil looked around at their frightened faces and said, “Whatever. I caught it, and I’m—”
The silver thing lunged, mouth wide, going for Phil’s hand.
