"All right," says Victor. "Well, let's see."

Ron takes one and "Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts."

"I got toast."

"Almond," concludes Victor of his brown-flecked white bean. "That's interesting. I like these."

He tries another one. "I don't recognize that flavour."

"This one's grass."

"Chocolate!"

Another one. "...coffee, I think."

That goes on for a bit while the countryside flying past the window becomes wilder, the neat fields replaced by woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There's a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy comes in, looking tearful. "Sorry," he says, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Victor shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I haven't. Did you lose one?"

He wails. "Yes! He keeps getting away from me!"

"I could help you look," he offers.

"Would you?"

"Yeah, I'll go, too, more eyes is better."

He rubs his eyes with his sleeves. "Thanks. I'm Neville."

"I'm Victor."

"Dayo."

"Ron," he says, then mumbles something unintelligible, but decides to get up and help, too.

"Where do we look? I've been going to all compartments," he says, and sniffles a bit.

"Let's start at the back of the train and go forward," Victor suggests.

"Okay."

Back-of-the-trainwards they go!

Muninn perches on Victor's shoulder and watches and listens for stray toads.

Stray toads seem hard to come by. Neville is increasingly distressed.

If that toad is on this train, Victor is determined to find it.

Well, before he finds a toad he will find that one of the compartments contains a certain pale-haired boy, sitting across two rather larger ones. He blinks at the four of them, slowly. "Was it true? You're really Victor Evans?" he asks before anything.

"Yes."