Big Foot and Little Foot_Book 1

by Ellen Potter

  After that came the Thwacking of the Log. Mr. Villabaloo, who was one of the tallest and strongest Sasquatches in Widdershins Cavern, found a big log. He lifted it up with a mighty effort, then thwacked the log against the trunk of a great oak tree. BOOOOM! It made a noise like a clap of thunder. He thwacked the tree again. BOOOOM! And again. BOOOOOM!

  The sound of thunder rolled through the North Woods. Humans who lived nearby heard it and said to their families, “Sounds like a real gullywhomper of a storm is heading our way.” Then they quickly shut all their windows, made sure their cat was inside, and tucked themselves in for a cozy evening at home.

  After the Thwacking of the Log, all the Sasquatches piled out of Widdershins Cavern and the festivities began. There were relay races and log-throwing competitions and a somersault area. Sasquatches are terrible at somersaults, but they love to do them, they just do.

  All sorts of delicious food was laid out on a long table—sweet walnut rumples and huckleberry trifles and rosehip crunchers. And so many pies! Blueberry and gooseberry and golden cloudberry pie, and buffalo-berry pie, all made from last summer’s berries that had been canned especially for the Frog Moon Festival. And at either end of the table were jugs of sweetened pine needle tea.

  Some of the squidges wore their masks and some didn’t, but they were all laughing and screeching and running and having a great time. All except Hugo. He sat on an old tree stump with his chin in his hand, feeling rotten about what had happened with Boone.

  Suddenly a monster ran up to him and stuck its face into Hugo’s.

  “Grahhhh! RAAAAAA!” the monster said.

  “Hi, Malcolm,” Hugo said glumly.

  “How did you know it was me?” Malcolm asked from behind his mask.

  “You have acorn butter stuck to your chest hair.”

  “Oh.” He turned to lunge at a small squidge named Pandora. “GRAAAAAH!” he growled very ferociously.

  Pandora began shrieking.

  “It’s just Malcolm,” Hugo told Pandora.

  But Pandora kept shrieking.

  “Tell her it’s just you, Malcolm,” Hugo said.

  “Don’t boss me, Captain Flapdoodle,” Malcolm replied.

  “Captain Flapdoodle?” asked Hugo, squinching up his face. “What does that even mean?”

  Pandora’s screeching grew so loud that Hugo finally stood up and whipped the mask right off Malcolm’s head.

  “Hey! What did you do that for?!” Malcolm said angrily.

  “She needs to see that it’s you under there or she won’t believe it,” Hugo told Malcolm.

  Then two good things happened:

  1. Pandora stopped shrieking.

  2. Hugo had an idea.

  16

  Ripple Worm River

  There was so much going on at the Frog Moon Festival that no one noticed one little Sasquatch wandering off by himself. Hugo had decided that Boone needed to see him in order to believe that he was really a Sasquatch, just like Pandora had needed to see Malcolm to believe that he wasn’t a monster.

  Hugo snuck past the hemlock trees and down a hill. He walked until the trees turned into a meadow, and at the end of the meadow was Ripple Worm River. Hugo gasped when he saw it. It was a beautiful, tumbling river, all twisty and turnish. And somewhere along the banks of that river, in a little blue house with a red roof, lived Boone.

  Hugo began to walk along the riverbank. Before each bend in the river, he told himself that the little blue house was certainly just beyond it. But when he turned the bend, there was only more river and no blue house. Hugo walked until his feet grew achy. Finally he had to sit down on the bank to rest his tired legs.

  Maybe Boone lived very far downriver, Hugo considered. Too far for a little Sasquatch to walk in one day.

  But when will I ever have another chance to find him? thought Hugo. That brought him to his feet again. But the next bend in the river came, and there was still no sign of Boone’s house. Then Hugo stubbed his toe painfully on a fat log that had been hidden by tall grass.

  “OWWW!” he cried, hopping around on one foot. “Stupid log!” And he picked it up and heaved it right into the river. He watched as it hit the water with a great splash. The log then bobbed very matter-of-factly, as if it had meant to spend some time in the river and was glad that someone had finally flung it in. It drifted downriver in such a slow, easy way that Hugo was struck with another idea.

  He rushed alongside the bank until he caught up with the log. He hesitated, looking nervously at the wide river that never stopped moving. But then he thought about Boone, and he knew he had to act quickly. With a great leap, he jumped off the bank—Sasquatches can leap like mountain goats when they want to—and he plunged into the river. He landed right beside the log, which was exactly where he was aiming to land, since Hugo couldn’t swim. He wrapped his arms around the log, and off he floated down Ripple Worm River, the whole time keeping a lookout for the blue house with the red roof.

  17

  A Wild Ride

  This is much better than walking, Hugo thought, as the cool river swept him along. His tired legs felt so funny and light in the water. He watched the marvelous Big Wide World as it slipped by—the blue sky above growing more purple with the dimmering. The grassy banks with the thick forest behind them.

  “This must be what it feels like to sail in a boat!” he said. That made him think of sharks, and he curled up his toes nervously. But then he remembered what Gigi had said about hair balls, so it was all right again.

  Though he kept his eyes on the shore, he didn’t see the blue house with the red roof. In fact, he didn’t see any houses at all.

  Up ahead, the river was growing narrower, and there were humps of rocks along the banks. The water was moving faster now. The log was picking up speed, bouncing and bucking wildly. If you’ve ever ridden on a bull, you’ll understand how that feels.

  Hugo struggled mightily to hold on to the log. The water kicked up and slapped his face. There was a loud THUMP-BUMP as his log smashed against the rocks, and Hugo was tossed off and flung into the wild, foaming water. Frantic, he flapped his arms and kicked his legs and struggled to stay afloat, but the current spun him this way and that way until finally—horribly—he was pulled beneath the water. With his head underwater, Hugo was tossed around like a sock in a washing machine. He wasn’t sure if he was upside down or right side up.

  Just then Hugo spotted something in the water. It was long and thin and bright yellow. He didn’t know what it was, but it seemed like a good idea to grab on to it. So that is what he did. Once he grabbed it, he felt the yellow thing begin to pull him up, and in a moment his head popped out of the water, and he took the longest, deepest breath he had ever taken in his life. The water was still thrashing around him, but he kept hold of the yellow thing, which he could now see was an umbrella. Hugo kicked his feet until, a few moments later, he had reached the riverbank and scrambled up to safety.

  There, holding the other end of the umbrella, was a Human. Tall-wise, he only reached Hugo’s waist, and wide-wise, he was about the same size around as one of Hugo’s legs. And he had a messy tuft of hair on top of his head.

  This time, though, Hugo didn’t laugh at him.

  “Thank you, Boone,” Hugo said.

  Boone’s eyes were wide with astonishment.

  “Holy cats,” he said, “you really are real!”

  18

  Boone

  Boone kept staring at Hugo as Hugo collapsed on the ground and began to squeeze water out of his hair. “And you can talk!” Boone said.

  “Of course I can talk,” replied Hugo as he wrung himself out.

  Boone leaned over and sniffed Hugo. “You don’t smell like rotten eggs.”

  Hugo sniffed at Boone. “You don’t smell like a dead porcupine,” he said. He looked hard at Boone’s face. “What are those dots?”

  “What dots?” Boone frowned and touched his face. “Oh! You mean my freckles! I have thirty-eight of them.” He p
ointed to one next to his right ear. “This guy is new.”

  “He’s nice,” Hugo said, because he really didn’t know what you were supposed to say about a freckle.

  “Lucky thing I had the umbrella with me, huh?” said Boone. “Grandma and I heard thunder a little while ago, and she made me take it with me when I went out.”

  Right then Hugo noticed the house behind them. It was set back in the woods, with bits of blue house and red roof peeping out through the trees.

  “There’s your house!” Hugo cried. “I’ve been looking for it.”

  “You have? Why?” asked Boone.

  “To prove to you that I was real,” said Hugo.

  “Oh.” Boone looked ashamed. “Yeah. I’m sorry I said all that stuff in the note.”

  “That’s okay,” said Hugo. And it really was.

  “So where do you live?” asked Boone.

  “In Widdershins Cavern,” said Hugo. “By the five hemlock trees.”

  “A cave? Lucky!” said Boone. “Cryptozoologists always find interesting things in caves, and I’m going to be a cryptozoologist when I grow up.”

  (This is how you say “cryptozoologist”: CRIP-TOE-ZO-OLOGIST. Practice it a few times. It’s fun to say, and if you say it right, people will think you are a genius.)

  “I guess there are plenty of bats and spiders in caves,” said Hugo doubtfully.

  “Cryptozoologists aren’t looking for bats and spiders,” said Boone. “They’re looking for mysterious creatures. Creatures like Bigfoot.”

  Hugo frowned when he heard the name “Bigfoot” again. He cleared his throat.

  “The thing is,” said Hugo in an uncomfortable voice, “I don’t think my feet are all that big.”

  “Of course they’re big,” said Boone. “Look.” He took off his shoe and held his foot against Hugo’s foot. Boone’s foot was not even half the size of Hugo’s.

  “Well,” said Hugo peevishly, “maybe it’s just that your feet are too little.”

  Hugo and Boone might have gotten into an argument over this, which would have been a bad start to a new friendship. Luckily, though, Boone just grinned and said, “Hey, I can be Little Foot! That would make us Big Foot and Little Foot.”

  And the two of them were perfectly happy with this arrangement.

  “So how do you find the mysterious creatures?” Hugo asked.

  “The first thing you have to do is figure out if they’re real or not,” said Boone.

  “How do you figure that out?”

  “Well,” Boone said, “the way I know they’re real is that I get the shivers when I think about them.”

  “And then what do you do?” asked Hugo.

  “Then you look for them. I was looking for the Ogopogo when I saw you in the water.”

  “What’s an Ogopogo?” asked Hugo.

  “It’s a sea serpent. I thought I might have spotted it right before I saw you.”

  “Where?”

  “Just up ahead.” He pointed at the river, back in the direction Hugo had come from. “Want to help me look?”

  Hugo nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go!” Boone jumped up and started running. Hugo jumped up and followed.

  “Boone, guess what!” Hugo called ahead to him.

  “What?” Boone called back.

  “I just got the shivers!”

  19

  The Ogopogo

  A little red rowboat lay on the shore, its oars spread out on either side. Hugo thought that they looked like arms opened wide.

  “Meet the Voyager!” said Boone, sweeping his arm toward the boat. On the back of the rowboat the word “Voyajer” was painted in white letters. “She’s all mine, too.”

  Hugo almost said, “‘Voyager’ is spelled wrong,” but decided not to. Together they pushed the Voyajer into the river. Boone held the boat while Hugo stepped into it. Boone hopped in himself, and he pushed off with an oar.

  At first Boone did the rowing. But then Hugo asked if he could try.

  “Sure,” said Boone, and he handed Hugo the oars. It was harder than it looked. At first Hugo could only make the Voyajer turn in circles. After a few minutes, though, Hugo got the hang of it. With his strong arms, he rowed the Voyajer along the river so fast that Boone flapped his arms in the air and laughed.

  “Go, Hugo, go! We’re flying!” he called out. It did feel like they were flying. The hair on Hugo’s body whipped wildly in the wind. It was thrilling to be out on the water under a darkening sky. It felt like anything could happen.

  “There it is, Hugo! Up ahead! The Ogopogo!” cried Boone.

  Hugo stared into the distance. There was something. It looked sort of like a log, though.

  In a deep voice, Boone said, “Big Foot and Little Foot raced across the water in the Voyajer, their triple-turbo speedboat.”

  “What are you doing?” asked Hugo.

  “Telling our story,” said Boone in his regular voice.

  “Why?”

  “Because one day I’m going to write books about my adventures as a cryptozoologist,” he answered.

  The dark shape in the distance disappeared for a moment. “The Ogopogo slithered through the water,” said Boone in his deep voice, “while Big Foot and Little Foot bravely chased it.”

  The dark shape reappeared now, a little farther away.

  “Suddenly a storm came!” said Boone in his deep voice.

  “But there isn’t any storm,” protested Hugo.

  “I know,” Boone said in his regular voice, “but it adds suspense.”

  “Oh,” said Hugo.

  “The Voyajer was pitching and rolling!” Boone continued in his deep voice. “The waves were as tall as a . . . as a roller coaster.”

  “And there were sharks,” suggested Hugo, who wasn’t exactly sure what a roller coaster was. “You could put that in.”

  “And there were loads of sharks,” said Boone. “Luckily Big Foot was an expert sailor . . .”

  Hugo rowed faster, his face warm with pride.

  “. . . and he sailed right through the storm, like a pro.” Boone continued in his deep voice: “No one had ever seen the Ogopogo up close. Some said it lived in an underwater cave on a secret island.”

  Suddenly, up ahead, they saw a snaky hump scroll out of the water. Right after that, a head popped out of the water. It looked like a horse’s head with a too-long neck. The creature twisted its neck around and looked back at them. Hugo could see the gleam of one dark eye. Then the creature dove back under the water and vanished.

  For a moment Hugo and Boone were perfectly silent.

  “Whoa,” Hugo whispered.

  “Whoa,” Boone whispered back.

  “It looked right at us,” said Hugo.

  They both stared out at the water. It was flat and still now. The Ogopogo was gone.

  In his deep voice, Boone said, “‘The world is full of mysteries if you just pay attention,’ said Little Foot.”

  The sky was getting darker now. In all the excitement, Hugo had forgotten about the Frog Moon Festival. “It’s getting late. I should go back home,” Hugo said.

  They weren’t far from the five hemlocks, so Hugo began to row again.

  “Steer clear of the rocks to your left,” said Boone.

  Hugo steered away from them.

  “The river gets shallow in a minute, so bring up your oars,” Boone warned. Hugo did.

  Then Boone told him, “The river splits up ahead. You’ll want to stay to the right!”

  It turned out that Boone knew all about the Big Wide World—or at least all about Ripple Worm River. He was an excellent Navigator. And Hugo was becoming a good sailor.

  The only thing they needed was five barrels of blackberries and thirty jars of acorn butter.

  20

  Monsters

  In no time at all they arrived at the banks of the meadow where Hugo had first set off on his journey to find Boone. Hugo and Boone dragged the boat onto the shore.

  “Thank you for eve
rything, Boone,” Hugo said as he stepped out of the boat. “I’ll write to you tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” said Boone, confused. “I wanted to meet the other Sasquatches.”

  “Oh . . . well . . .” said Hugo uneasily. “That might not be a good idea.”

  “Why?” Boone’s eyes grew wide. “Would they eat me?”

  “Of course not!” said Hugo.

  “Then why not?”

  Because the other Sasquatches will be mad at me, thought Hugo. Because they will say that Boone is dangerous. Because if I bring Boone back to meet them, no one will want to talk to me ever again.

  But . . . Boone had saved Hugo’s life. He and Boone had chased the Ogopogo together.

  They were Big Foot and Little Foot.

  Hugo looked at Boone. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Always,” said Boone.

  “Well, you’re about to have the best gooseberry pie in the whole North Woods. Come on.”

  Hugo and Boone hurried across the meadow, then up the hill and through the woods toward the five hemlocks. They could hear the sounds of the Frog Moon Festival—laughing and stomping and singing. That made them walk even faster.

  Suddenly a high-pitched screech rang through the woods: “OOOOMA! OOOOOOOOOOMA!”

  Hugo and Boone stopped short.

  “What was that?” asked Boone.

  “I don’t know,” said Hugo. He had never heard anything that sounded like that—not a bird or a bobcat or a wolf.

  “OOOOOOMA!” The shrieking seemed to be coming from high up in the treetops.

  Hugo and Boone stared up at the hemlock trees. The light was so dim that at first they couldn’t see anything. But then Boone pointed up at the hemlock tree farthest from them. In a whisper, he said, “There!”