"And every morning?" Bodacious Deepthink prompted. "When you're done working?"
"Every morning you go to bed knowing you've made a real contribution. Your work is especially valued too, because you're river trolls, you see."
"Why's that?" Stump asked, sounding impressed.
Bodacious Deepthink stepped in with an answer for him.
"On account of that cheap little curse your mothers threw on me," she chided. "We rock trolls won't find our way to the moon till those three miners find their way home. That's the way they said it. Rockfudge! Can I help it if a river troll can get lost in his own bed? Can I help it if they don't know how to handle a lucky cricket? Can I help it if..."
She ticked off a half-dozen other things she couldn't help, and every one of those things made her so touchy and grouchy that her bat earrings were fluttering most of the time now. But finally she managed to get a grip on herself and slow her tongue enough to talk more civilly.
"Let's just say you river trolls have got me over a barrel. Thanks to that curse, all us rock trolls are able to do is dig around and around in circles without getting anywhere. That's why we need your help. The curse can't touch you river trolls. So if you put your mind to it, you can tell us where to tunnel. It's the only way we'll ever make it to the moon. Old Double-knot here, he's been mapping our diggings for years and years, but he's lost his oomph, can't quite get us there. Don't get me wrong, he's done wonders, gotten us so close that some nights we can hear the moon humming. If we put our ears to rock, we surely can. All we need is some fresh blood, a younger river troll whose eyes and ears are sharper. Whoever takes over would be my chief engineer. Paid accordingly. A golden opportunity, especially to show your mothers who's boss. Wouldn't you agree, Double-knot?"
"Oh, yes," Double-knot croaked, his eyes glued to her staff, in case he had to dodge it.
"So what do you boys say?" Bodacious Deepthink cajoled. "It'd only take one of you. The other two can try their luck with crickets, if that's what curls their tails."
No volunteers stepped forward, so at least Jim Dandy, Biz, and Stump weren't as dumb as they currently looked.
"Tell them about the grub," Bodacious Deepthink said to Jim Dandy's father.
"Best going," Double-knot promised, though his belly didn't have any jiggle to it.
"And the accommodations?" Bodacious Deepthink added.
"Four-star."
"Your fellow workers?"
"Princes, every last one."
It was clear that Double-knot had been schooled with a hard stick.
"What about sweets?" Duke asked.
"Any time you crave them," Bodacious Deepthink said.
"Chances to bully?"
"Every day," she promised. "Helps keep up morale. Anything else?"
There wasn't, except from Duke, and Bodacious Deepthink put a stop to that by jabbing her staff hard into his gut. While my cousin was doubled over, the Great Rock Troll went on, friendly as ever, "So there you have it, boys. What do you say? I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime. Fame and glory wait for the river troll who can get us to the moon. Surely at least one of you can see that?"
When Jim Dandy, Biz, and Stump all held their ground, refusing to bite, Bodacious Deepthink's patience sprang a leak.
"The dumbest-looking one must be your son," she said to Double-knot. "Have a word with him."
Jim Dandy and his father stood there gazing into each other's eyes as if on opposite banks of the river, and a wide spot in the river at that. Double-knot made the first move by stepping forward and putting an old broken paw on Jim Dandy's shoulder.
"I swear that everything you've heard here..." he began.
Jim Dandy knocked the paw off his shoulder and turned his head away. Bodacious Deepthink slammed her staff down and roared, "This is your father, boy."
That's when Jim Dandy went up about a hundred notches in my estimation. Looking directly into Bodacious Deepthink's flashing eyes, he said, "No, he's not. My father came up here, got a cricket from you, went looking for those miners, and hasn't been seen since."
It was a bold-faced lie, of course. Everyone could see that. Even busted up and covered with rock dust, Double-knot looked like Jim Dandy, all the way down to the neck scarves they both wore. But the point was, Jim Dandy refused to think badly of his father.
"Tell that young fool that he's making a big mistake!" Bodacious Deepthink thundered.
That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. No, calling Jim Dandy a fool for refusing to believe the worst of his father, that set the stage for something none of us was expecting. Reaching out for Jim Dandy's shoulders, Double-knot said, "This may be my only chance to be your father, boy, so you better listen. I've some advice to share."
Thirty-six
The Banquet
Everybody leaned forward to catch what Jim Dandy's father had to say. Straightening his bent shoulders as much as he could, Double-knot took a breath and advised, "Don't make the same mistake I did, son. Go out and make your own."
With that, he let go of Jim Dandy's shoulders and slouched back toward the cave. If there was a throat thereabouts that didn't hide a sizable lump, it wasn't mine, not after all the times I'd refused advice from my own mom and dad. Of course, Bodacious Deepthink was all cinders and gas.
Finally Jim Dandy broke the silence, saying to Bodacious Deepthink, "If you're done with the sales pitch, we came to trade for some crickets."
Hearing that, Jim Dandy's father held his head higher and picked up his pace. Bodacious Deepthink responded by whamming her staff down and shaking the entire valley.
"What have you got to trade?" she snarled.
"Two shooting stars and one meal," Biz squeaked after Jim Dandy elbowed him.
"One banquet," Jim Dandy corrected.
"That?" Bodacious Deepthink groused with a snort of disbelief.
She was pointing at Duke, who was holding up the burlap sack he'd been carrying.
"Guaranteed delicious," Duke promised.
To prove his point, he untied the neck of the sack and dumped out the food inside. Stones fell to the ground, barely missing his toes.
"Doesn't look like much." Bodacious Deepthink wrinkled her nostrils.
"He just got the horn," Jim Dandy said. "The rest is coming."
When the Great Rock Troll took two steps forward and turned Duke to the side for a better view, my cousin didn't even squawk. He was still gazing down at the stones as if expecting them to turn into goat cheese and pigs' feet and ox tails.
"Done!" Bodacious Deepthink said, liking Duke's profile. Over her shoulder, she shouted, "Bring me those crickets!"
Double-knot surprised everyone by shouting from the mouth of the cave, "Get them yourself!"
Bodacious Deepthink grumbled over to the wagon, which she shoved forward with her staff.
"These are the ones you want," Bodacious Deepthink scoffed. "Your fathers did too, except for Double-knot, of course."
The three white crickets inside the cage looked old and rickety enough to have met a lot of fathers. One had a bent antenna. Another stood lopsided. The last was drooling.
"We'll take 'em," Jim Dandy said, reaching.
"Stars first." Bo batted Jim Dandy's hands away with her staff.
When Jim Dandy handed over the jewelry boxes, Bodacious Deepthink sniffed them without opening the lids.
"They'll do." She wasn't impressed.
"Say," Duke bawled, finally coming to his senses, "what happened to the mutton and goat cheese and stuff?"
Duke looked from Jim Dandy to Biz to Stump, all of whom were too busy admiring crickets to answer.
"You're with me," Bodacious Deepthink said to my cousin. "Come on."
"Run!" I shouted.
But he didn't. All he managed to do was stare—in disbelief—as Bodacious Deepthink lifted a rope from the wagon and lassoed him so expertly that you knew she'd done it before. Reeling Duke in, the Great Rock Troll tucked him over her shoulder and turned toward the c
ave.
"What's going on?" Duke cried out.
"Take your crickets," Bodacious Deepthink bellowed above Duke's wails. "Leave the cage."
With that, the Great Rock Troll plodded toward the cave as if she couldn't even feel Duke thrashing about.
Spotting me on the ground, Duke pointed and screamed, "Take her! Take Claire! She'll do whatever..."
He never got around to finishing his offer. Right then he let out such an ear-splitting yowl that Jim Dandy, Biz, and Stump all stopped admiring crickets and straightened up as if something house-size had exploded. Duke's horn shot out another six inches. His arms thickened, legs too. The seams on his black zipper coat ripped everywhere as his skin puckered with wrinkles. Unfurling like leaves opening in spring, his ears shot upward with fur tufts on top. He turned black-gray, everywhere, and his fingers melded together into hooves.
A tail split his pants.
"That's more like it," Bodacious Deepthink said, happy at last.
She didn't flinch under the added weight but barked to Double-knot, "Get the wagon!"
This time Jim Dandy's father obeyed, although not before saying, "Just remember one thing, son: these crickets are the worst kind of liars. Every last one of them."
With that, he opened the cage door, scooped out the three decrepit crickets, and placed one on the shoulder of each river troll. Jim Dandy got his last.
"W-why don't you come with us," Jim Dandy sputtered.
"Don't think it's not tempting," Double-knot whispered, "but I've made my choices. And who knows? I might do something good here yet." Picking up the wagon handle, he started toward the cave, calling over his shoulder, "You boys better get moving. Bo's been known to change her mind."
About then I heard one last blubbering wail from just inside the cave.
"Take her, not me!"
Duke remained tucked over Bodacious Deepthink's stony shoulder, still pointing a hoof at me.
Thirty-seven
A Hero, A Hero, A Hero
Duke's cries dwindled until the cave swallowed them completely. For a bit longer I heard the creaking wagon that Double-knot was pulling. After that, the glow from Bodacious Deepthink's lantern swayed back and forth until suddenly winking out. From inside the earth came a pop and crinkle as the cave door began to slide down. Just as morning's sunlight first nicked the treetops, the cave's mouth was gone. Solid rock faced us again.
"We did it," Stump whispered, hardly daring to believe it.
For once only Jim Dandy had nothing to say. He stood there staring at where his father had been. The cricket perched on his shoulder said, "Take your time. I'm sure she won't be back."
"You know what that means," Biz squeaked, trying to shove his way past the others.
"What about Duke?" I called out, still tied to the pole and lying on the ground.
But they weren't in any mood for listening, only running, although my voice did slow Biz enough to bend over and slip his crown-ring off my finger.
"Mine," he squeaked before dashing after the others.
So much for a troll's pledge.
"Where's the fire?" Biz's cricket cried out, which made the river trolls sprint all the faster.
"What about me?" I shouted.
That only spurred them all the more. Moving on all fours with their tails between their legs, they plowed through thickets, clawed over each other to gain the lead, never looked back.
"Hey!" I screamed.
The words echoed around the clearing. There was only one set of ears available to hear them, and that set belonged to me. By then the three river trolls were nothing but snapping branches and squeals farther down the valley.
I tried standing, fell. I tried chewing through the leather straps binding me, gagged. Whatever type of beast the leather was cut from, it burned in my mouth. Every other second I glanced toward the rock wall, praying it stayed closed. My only other option seemed to be crying. I'd just started making a puddle when someone came crashing back into the clearing.
Blundering to my rescue was Stump. The look of terror that twisted his snout said he'd come back against his better judgment. At least the cricket riding his shoulder had the decency to urge him forward by singing out, "You're a hero, a hero, a hero."
"Shut up, you," Stump hissed.
At first I thought he was warning me, but when the cricket wouldn't quit with the hero stuff, Stump grabbed him, stuffed him into a vest pocket of his bicycling togs, and zipped the pocket shut. From another pocket he whipped out a knife made from horn and began cutting my straps.
"Liars," he muttered.
"Who?" I said, so relieved at being rescued that I didn't have enough sense to keep my mouth closed and let him concentrate on freeing me.
"Cave crickets," he said. "Legend has it that one of them promised to lead Bo to the moon, and when it didn't happen, she dropped a curse on them, turned them all into liars. Come on."
By then he'd sliced through the leather strips and was pulling me to my feet. He started back down the valley without seeing if I followed. What else would I be doing?
Once the circulation to my hands and feet returned, I soon caught up with Stump. A few hundred yards later we both met up with Jim Dandy and Biz, who were leaning against trees, trying to catch their wind. As soon as we reached them, they sprinted off again, leaving us behind. Between gasps, I told Stump, "Thanks."
"Your shouting," he said, pausing to suck down a breath, "reminded me of Duckwad."
Thirty-eight
A Blue-Wing Fairy
The pounding of our footsteps slowly woke the valley. Across the way a farm dog yipped, and high above a flock of geese honked. Over and over the crickets lied about being bold and brave and ten feet tall. Since they didn't sing in unison, it sounded as though a dozen of them were traveling with us.
Biz led the way, charging ahead as if chased by hellhounds, a trail of snapped branches and flattened bushes in his wake. We didn't brake until back to the sandbar, where we heard a ukulele being played. That brought everyone to a screeching halt right at the lip of the mineshaft we'd been hurrying toward. Inside the mine the strumming continued.
Circling, the trolls sniffed and muttered and whimpered as the crickets fell silent. I put my nose to work too but whiffed only river muck.
Along with the ukulele came snatches of singing. High and sweet, the voice had the river trolls covering their ears and on the verge of bolting, but before they could take off the music stopped. Everyone played statue. The carpet covering the mineshaft got poked up and out peeked a pair of shiny eyes that made the crickets shift uneasily on the trolls' shoulders.
"About time," a peevish voice said from the mine.
Never had a reprimand been more welcome—at least by me. The voice belonged to the old lady.
"You?" Biz squeaked.
"And look what I found," she quipped, holding up a blue ukulele. Her moment of triumph didn't last long as she noticed someone was missing from our group and crossly said, "Where's the one with the horn?"
That had the trolls shuffling.
"Bo got him," I told her.
"That wasn't our fault," Jim Dandy protested.
"Oh, I'm sure," the old lady scolded as she climbed out of the mine.
"You've got to understand," Jim Dandy pleaded. "We had our three stars until these humans let one go. What choice did that leave us?"
The old lady sized up Jim Dandy as if he were a blister. He fiddled with his neck scarf and squirmed accordingly.
"I'm glad you brought up choices," the old lady said at last, "because you've got two things that need doing, and I'm going to let you choose which goes first. Ears working?"
"Yes, ma'am," the trolls mumbled.
Pointing the ukulele at them, the old lady ditched all her sweetness, replacing it with fire and ice.
"Choice one—you visit some people you recently turned to stone and change them back."
"We were headed that way," Jim Dandy sang out.
The old
lady cut him off. "Save it. Choice two—you pay Bo another visit and rescue the kid with the horn."
"What about our fathers?" Biz squeaked-whined.
"They'll keep."
"Tackle Bo," the crickets counseled.
Hearing that advice settled it. They quickly agreed on ignoring the cricket's lies, for nobody was eager to parade back up the valley we'd just trampled down. Lining up behind the old lady, the trolls shuffled toward the river like prisoners in chains. The old lady and I were the only ones stepping lively. At the water's edge, Jim Dandy bypassed the old lady's rowboat, heading for his dugout canoe, but the old lady put a stop to that by announcing:
"You'll all be riding with me, Jim Dandy Eel-tongue, where I can keep an eye on you. And if there's any funny business, I'll turn you all into books. Thick ones with no pictures and tiny print."
Fast as they jumped aboard her boat, they must have been as terrified of reading as they were of counting. The old lady lagged behind as if they'd forgotten something.
"So where's the stone feather you used?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Duke's house," Biz squeaked.
"It better be," she threatened, wading to the back of her boat without bothering to lift her skirt. "Here, put these on."
Pulling three floppy straw hats from a wooden chest, she held them out to the trolls.
"What's that?" Stump shied away from the hat brim facing him. It was covered with roses and bluebells that smelled freshly picked and made his snout twitch as if peppered.
"Disguises," the old lady answered. "I don't want any fisher-men spotting you. Might slow us down."
Gulping a deep breath, Stump accepted the hat and tried tugging it on. Jim Dandy and Biz followed suit. They were all trembling so hard they missed their heads by a mile.
"Claire," the old lady said, climbing aboard and waving for me to follow, "would you mind giving them a hand? I've got to arrange a ride for us in Blue Wing."
Digging a scrap of paper out of her apron pocket, the old lady got busy scribbling. Tugging off a wet sneaker, she stuffed her note inside it and flung the shoe into the river. A muskrat nabbed the shoe at once, diving out of sight.
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