They're Multiplying.

Back in the classroom, Oliver lifted each page of a torture test, and stared in horror at Page 4. One of the girls raised her hand, and Mr. Zeke asked her what her problem was.

"What's wrong with Page 4? There is a picture there, and no Maths question. What is the question for Page 4?"

Tyson called rudely to Mr. Zeke, "Hey, that photo looks like Oliver with a beard on. What's that supposed to prove?"

"And look," Henry said, "There's a large dog paw print on it. Why does it say, Wanted?"

Mr. Zeke took a second glance at his great Maths test. His eyes swivelled to Oliver, whose face had gone bright red. Their substitute teacher was angrier than ever, as the other boys all laughed.

"How did you do that, Oliver? Get into the school printer? Most wanted, Oliver!"

By now, Mr. Zeke had lost control of Grade Six again. The students refused to listen to a word their teacher for the day said. He was never their favourite. But they had agreed to have a holiday while Mrs. Henderson was absent. Everyone in the classroom was looking extremely puzzled, including Oliver.

"I do not know how this happened..." he mumbled. Mr. Zeke's face had turned bright red. Oliver's day in his holy Catholic school got worse and worse. Finally, just as it was hometime, Mr. Zeke sent all the good girls home on time. He slammed the classroom door in the boys' faces, and ordered them to march the dark stairs to the next level. "You are all in instant detention! Move it, boys!"

Oliver and Henry led the way to the long forgotten, much feared upstairs room. It had long been abandoned. There were many tales floating around the school, about what went on there for really naughty lads who did not do what teachers said. Many kids believed there was the ghost of an ancient, old-fashioned nun, who floated around looking like a penguin. Her name had been Sister Grace. Simon used to say she was the scariest teacher that had ever taught Grade Six.

The door to the detention room creaked open, scary and sinister. Oliver tried to look tougher than he was really feeling. He said to Mr. Zeke, "You can't do this. You're not even our teacher. My mum will ring the school to see where we are."

"Silence, boy!" A loud voice commanded, "Come in and sit down. Ears are for listening, not idle back chat. As for the rest of you, you are going to do what you're told. Now!"

The boys had to brush the cobwebs off the chairs. There was dust all over the desks, which held piles of biros of heaps of writing paper. Oliver searched the room, but could see no teacher. "Was that Mr. Zeke bolting the door, heading home for pizza, or whatever teachers eat for tea?"

The speaker system crackled, "Pick up a biro. Number your Pages 1-1000 right now. Then write lines, one thousand times, 'I must obey the rules'. Start now! In silence, until I tell you to stop writing. I know all about boys like you and their naughty boy pants!"

Henry muttered, and gave a nervous giggle. Oliver's pen was soon flowing. Would he and the other dudes ever get home?

Oliver's pen style was never the best, but he did not want to make his lines too messy. By the time he had written, 'I must obey the rules' that many times, he was only up to number 470. This task seemed endless. Was this even anything more than a fake detention?Mr. Zeke had long gone home, the spidery classroom from olden days held no teacher.

Oliver glanced around, and nudged Henry. His mate was only up to 333 lines. Oliver's wrist was aching by now, he was also sure this detention would give him a heart condition. He was sure that every boy in Grade Six was nearly starving. Things looked grim. He wondered where the black Hidden Hound was leading him.

OIiver grabbed Henry by the arm, in silence, and then stood at the door. Maybe it was all sound effects. He lifted his foot and kicked the wooden door as hard as he could. The door slowly opened, and Oliver yelled, "Come on, we're escaping. Look, it's nearly sundown. Stick with me, let's run for it. This is unjust!"

Oliver and Henry ran down the dim, unlit stairs, and raced through the school gardens and vegetable patch, heading for the school gate and freedom. There were deep shadows by now, and the wind was strong. The branches on the larger trees seemed to whisper, "Repent and believe the Good News."

Oliver was a good, obedient altar boy, but this was all too much. He had not even written any of that graffiti. Terrified, the Grade Suix boys reached the gate, and scattered. Henry looked down in the light of the street lighting, and said, "Oh no, paw prints. Can we follow them? The hidden hound's tracking to your house."

Oliver glanced at the muddy tracks, and followed them right to his own front door. He pounded on his own doorway, yelling, "Mum, Mum, are you okay in there?"

After five minutes, Simon answered the door. "Look out, you two. Mum's done it again. She's been and got another rescue dog. Quick, come inside. This is important."

Oliver was glad his mother was all right. His older brother hauled him along to the family room. Their mother often sheltered rescue dogs, fed, them, trained them, and then rehomed them But what did this have to do with the Hidden Hound of Eastville? OIiver paused at the doorway.

There, while his mother was stirring her usual saucepan of broth, on a great rug, lay the biggest dog Oliver had ever seen in his entire life. It was jet black, a giant Great Dane, with a massive head, jaws, and paws. His mother turned around to Oliver and did not even ask why he was late home.

"Here," she said, "Come here and meet Esme. She is only here for a little while, before I find her a home."

Oliver gulped, "She's a girl......" Yes, the black Hidden Hound was female. He went over to pat here, and an enormous paw was waved at him. So he shook Esme's paw, and stared at his hand. There was a large, muddy paw print.

"That's not what I meant,...." Simon said. He thought he had invented the Hidden Hound. Even he could not believe that Esme had three cute puppies. There were muddy paw prints all over the tiled floor.

"Puppies!" Henry smiled, "Are you going to keep one?"

"We'll see," Oliver's mother replied.

Just then, Simon leaned over and whispered in Oliver's ear. "Be very scared, little brother. The Hidden Hound is multiplying, worse than Maths."

But Oliver was not going to let Simon spoil this puppy fun. For once he stood up for himself against his older brother. "Zip your lip, or you can pick up all the dog poops for a change!"

Simon walked away, saying, "Looking back at ya, little dude!"

Oliver never really knew if there was also a ghostly Hidden Hound haunting him. He wanted to play with puppies, and let the strange mysteries of Eastville take care of themselves....