Authors: Sigmund Brouwer
Text copyright Â© 2007 Sigmund Brouwer
Illustrations copyright Â© 2007 Dean Griffiths
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be
invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Brouwer, Sigmund, 1959-
Timberwolf hunt / written by Sigmund Brouwer ; illustrated by Dean Griffiths.
I. Griffiths, Dean, 1967- II. Title. III. Series.
PS8553.R68467T45 2007 jC813'.54 C2006-907058-X
First published in the United States, 2007
Library of Congress Control Number
: In this third book in the Timberwolves series, Johnny and Stu must figure out
what to do when the weakest player on their team is getting the most ice time.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs
provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book
Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the
Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council
and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Typesetting by Christine Toller
Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Dean Griffiths
Author photograph by Bill Bilsley.
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Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.
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To Dan Kersey: He shoots, he scores!
“Shut the door!” Stu Duncan said to Johnny Maverick.
“We need help!”
Johnny had just walked into the dressing room with his hockey equipment. Stu was his best friend. They played for the Howling Timberwolves. The team was getting ready to play the Grizzlies.
“I agree that you need help,” Johnny said to Stu. “A doctor should see if you still have a brain.”
The rest of the players laughed. It looked like Johnny was right.
Stu was standing in the middle of the room. His hockey bag was at his feet. He was holding a hockey stick straight up. He was pushing the butt end of the
stick against the bottom of a plastic bucket. It pressed the top of the bucket against the ceiling.
“I'm standing here for a good reason,” Stu said. “I have trapped a bat under the bucket.”
“A bat?” Johnny said. “A hairy bat? With wings? And fangs?”
“Bats don't have fangs,” Stu said.
“Yes, they do,” Johnny said. “Big fangs. Dripping with blood. You should see them in my comic books.”
“Johnny,” Stu said, “I hate to break it to you. It's like Santa Claus.”
“Santa Claus has fangs in your comic books?” Johnny said. “Cool. Can I borrow your comic books?”
“No,” Stu said, “Santa Claus is not real. Just like the bats in your comic books. Real bats don't have fangs. Now can you help me?”
Johnny put down his hockey bag. “Sure.”
“Good,” Stu said. “Hold this stick and press it hard against the bucket. Keep the bat trapped while I get Mr. Gregg.”
Mr. Gregg was in charge of the arena. He ran the ice-cleaning machine and cleaned the dressing rooms.
“I can get Mr. Gregg if you like,” Johnny said.
“Please hold the stick,” Stu said. “Let me get Mr. Gregg. My arms are tired. I don't want the bat to get loose.”
“All right,” Johnny said. “Just make sure that Mr. Gregg doesn't bring Stinky with him. That would be worse than a bat with fangs.”
Stinky was Mr. Gregg's dog. It was big and fat and slow. Everyone in the town of Howling knew about Stinky. They knew there was a good reason that Stinky was called Stinky.
“I want to live,” Stu said. “I'll make sure Stinky does not come into the dressing room with Mr. Gregg. Now will you hold this bucket for me?”
Johnny took the stick.
Stu stepped away.
“Hey,” Johnny said. He looked up at the bucket. “This is heavy!”
Stu did not answer. He pulled his own hockey bag away from Johnny. He moved Johnny's hockey bag closer to Johnny's feet.
“This bucket is heavy!” Johnny said again. “It must be a really big bat!”
“The bucket is filled with water,” Stu said. He laughed. “Don't let go or you will get wet! And you will get your hockey bag wet too!”
Everyone else laughed too.
“Water?” Johnny said. He pushed the hockey stick hard against the bottom of the bucket. He did not want to get wet. He did not want to get his hockey bag wet. “You played a trick on me.”
“It's a good trick. But it wasn't my idea. It was Tom's.”
Tom Morgan was another friend. Johnny had once made him wear a dress to a hockey game, but that was another story.
“Tom's idea?” Johnny said.
Tom was in the corner of the room. He grinned.
“Yes, Johnny,” Tom said, “we've played this trick on everyone. They all had turns holding the stick. Stu was the guy who came in just before you did.”
“Great,” Johnny said. The bucket was heavy. He didn't want all the water to drop on him. He kept pushing hard against the bottom of the bucket. “I'm the last guy.”
“No,” Tom said, “you are the second last guy. Remember? While Coach Smith is gone, we have a new coach who just moved to Howling. I heard his son plays hockey too.”
“Right,” Johnny said. “His son is Eldridge Elwell.”
Just then, a new kid walked into the dressing room with his hockey bag.
“Hi,” the new kid said. He was not too tall and not too short. Not too fat and not too skinny. He had dark hair. He also had a shy smile. “My name is Eldridge. My dad is the new coach. He is going to be here in a few minutes. He just had to park his truck.”
“Hi,” Johnny said to the new kid. “Glad you're here. I need your help.”
“Sure,” Eldridge said. “What is it?”
“Well,” Johnny said, “I've got a bat trapped under this bucket. Can you keep it trapped while I go get Mr. Gregg? He is in charge of the arena.”
“Yes,” Eldridge said, “I'll help.”
“Good,” Johnny said. “Hold this stick and press it hard against the bucket.”
“Eldridge,” Coach Elwell said. He had just walked into the room. “What are you doing?”
Coach Elwell was a big man. His head was half bald. He had a moustache. He was wearing a suit and a tie. It was the first time the players had seen him. He was Coach Smith's new boss. Coach Elwell was going to be their coach for four weeks while Coach Smith was on vacation. Coach Smith never wore a suit and a tie. Coach Smith would be back for playoffs.
“I'm holding this bucket up against the ceiling,” Eldridge said. “If I let go, itâ”
“I can see you're pushing a stick up against a bucket,” Coach Elwell said. He had a big voice to match his big
size. “Didn't I tell you that the first thing you needed to do was fill the water bottles?”
“Don't make excuses,” Coach Elwell said. “I expect you to listen to me. Now put that hockey stick down right away.”
“Young man, I just said I expect you to listen to me.”
“Excuse me,” Johnny said to Coach Elwell. “I can explain.”
“Did I ask you to interrupt?” Coach Elwell said to Johnny. “All of you should learn right now that I don't like to be interrupted.”