by Cathy Hapka
Ty bit his lip. “And the Compsognathus have no idea how to reach the outside world.”
The two boys stared at each other. Jack swallowed hard, forcing himself to recognize the truth: They could stay and perish with the Compsognathus, or face the harsh, unforgiving desert once again. Either way, their situation seemed hopeless.
CHAPTER 17
Before the boys could discuss things any further, a gaggle of Compsognathus children, most of them little older than the saurian equivalent of toddlers, raced over and surrounded them, chattering eagerly. Jack looked around at the tiny dancing dinosaurs with an uncertain smile, wishing he could understand the questions they were flinging at him from all sides.
“What are they saying?” he asked Ty.
Ty spoke a few questioning words in the saurians' tongue, then turned back to Jack. “They want to know more about us,” he said. “They seem fascinated by our clothes.”
One tiny female Compsognathus darted forward and tugged curiously at Ty's pants pocket. She chittered out a query.
“You want to see what's in my pockets?” Ty asked her good-naturedly. “Well, okay. But it's nothing too interesting, I'm afraid.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of colorful stones he'd picked up sometime earlier that day. After showing them to the children, he checked his other pocket.
“Oh,” he said, pulling out Jack's spare shorts. “I forgot these were in here. You might as well take them back for now.”
“Thanks.” Jack took the shorts and started to stuff them in his own pocket. As he did, he felt an odd crumpling sensation. “Hey, did you put something in the pocket?” he asked, pulling the shorts out again.
“I don't think so.” Ty shrugged. “Oh! Unless it's—”
“The map!” Jack cried, pulling out the wrinkled bit of hide. “It's here! You didn't burn it!”
“Of course not.” Ty wrinkled his nose. “Hide smells funny when it burns.”
Jack glowered at him. It was just like Ty to completely miss the point.
That didn't matter, though, he decided quickly. The important thing was that they still had the map. “This showed that dry oasis we found, and also this oasis,” he reminded Ty, smoothing out the map on his knee. The Compsognathus children clustered closer, peering at the map curiously. “What if the road to Meeramu is on here, too? Or at least something else that would tell us where we are. With a map, we could mount an expedition with the Compsognathus and be sure of reaching Meeramu. This could be our way back home!”
Ty gasped and smacked himself on the forehead. “I didn't even think of that,” he admitted. “Maybe Farsight can read these symbols.”
“There's only one way to find out.”
Moments later, the old Compsognathus was studying the map the boys had laid before him. “I'm sorry,” he said, his voice heavy with chagrin. “My parents never taught me to read the old language. It didn't seem necessary at the time—we were too busy rebuilding our civilization to worry about such things.”
Jack slumped against a nearby pile of stones, feeling the hope that had filled him at the discovery of the map seep out of his body again. “Oh, no,” he murmured. Now how were they supposed to figure out the map?
At that moment Hopper wandered toward them, chewing hungrily on a small date. The little saurian paused, glancing curiously at the map. “What friends find?” he asked.
Ty quickly explained how the boys had rediscovered the map. “But none of us can read the language it's written in, so it doesn't do us much good,” he finished.
“Hopper have idea!” the little Compsognathus cried excitedly. “Talking Rock!”
“Talking Rock?” Jack repeated. “What's that?”
“It's a legend among our colony,” Farsight responded with a puzzled frown. “The Talking Rock is rumored to be a translation key for the many languages spoken in the oasis in the old days. The Old Language of the Compsognathus is supposedly featured, along with a number of other tongues. But nobody is sure the rock really exists, and if it does, nobody knows where it is.”
Hopper smiled slyly. “Hopper know.”
Farsight blinked in surprise. “What?” he demanded, before breaking into a torrent of questions in their saurian tongue.
Hopper answered eagerly in the same tongue. Jack looked from one Compsognathus to the other, wondering what was going on. He jumped as Ty elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Did you hear that?” the other boy cried excitedly. “Hopper found it! He found the Talking Rock! He decided to explore that barren little island in the middle of the lake, and when he got out there, he found this big stone with all kinds of carving on it in a cave. It has to be the Talking Rock!”
Jack couldn't help being amazed that Ty had understood so much of the saurians' speech—he was obviously improving his language skills all the time—but what was even more amazing was that they were back on four feet again.
“You boys have knowledge of written language?” Farsight asked eagerly. When Jack and Ty nodded, the saurian smiled. “Excellent. If you can find a translation for this map, it could save us all! Will you go to the island now? There is enough daylight remaining, I believe.”
Jack glanced out over the still water, which glowed under the yellowish light of the late-afternoon sun. “Can we wade out that far?” he asked. “Or does the water get deep offshore?”
“Hopper swim.” The young Compsognathus mimed a paddling motion. “Get very tired. Water deep—deeper than tall friends even.”
“I guess that means you're up,” Ty told Jack. “You're the one with the swimming know-how.”
Jack felt a flash of nervousness. Yes, he had loved his experiences in Waterfall City, but that had been years ago. Could he still do it?
I have no choice, he reminded himself as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Everyone is counting on me.
It didn't take long for news to travel in the Compsognathus colony. In no time, the entire population had gathered on the beach to see him off.
Trying not to feel nervous, Jack fished his plant-identification book and notebook out of his pockets and left them on the sand. However, he took the spare pair of shorts, figuring he might need it to clean sand off the Talking Rock.
Glancing at the sun and determining that there was still at least an hour and a half until twilight, he dipped one toe in the water. It felt cool and refreshing against his sweaty skin.
“Okay.” Jack tucked the spare shorts into his pants pocket and the map into his waistband, hoping it was waterproof, as Ty and Farsight seemed to think.
“Here I go,” said Jack.
He walked out into the shallows to the cheers of the onlookers. Three yards, ten yards, twenty . . . He was just starting to feel a bit foolish, and wondering if Hopper had been wrong about the depth, when his right foot suddenly plunged down into nothingness and he fell forward into deep water.
He sputtered for a moment, almost panicking as the cool liquid closed over his head and filled his mouth and nose. He felt some kind of underwater reed wrap around his bare leg. He kicked it away, but the movement caused him to sink even deeper into the slightly murky water. Then the calm voice of Mr. Stevens, his swimming teacher, filled his head: Rise, then breathe. Allow your natural buoyancy to take you to the surface. Just like the old saying—breathe deep, then seek peace.
Relaxing his tense muscles, Jack felt himself bob to the top. His head emerged into the air and he took a long, deep breath. At the same time, somehow, his arms and legs remembered what to do. He began to paddle through the gently rippling water, aiming for the rocky island jutting up about forty yards ahead.
He was vaguely aware of the sound of more cheers floating toward him from the direction of the shore. But he ignored them, concentrating on his goal.
A few minutes later he felt his foot scrape rock beneath the water. He touched down on the rough surface and walked the last few yards onto the narrow, rocky shore of the tiny island.
“W
hew!” he said aloud, shaking his head to get the water out of his ears and checking to make sure he hadn't lost the map on the way. “That was kind of fun.” He smiled as he imagined Mr. Stevens nodding approvingly at his effort. Then he glanced around, returning his full attention to his task.
There wasn't much to the island aside from a few large boulders and scrubby shrubs, and it didn't take long to find the cave he was looking for. Blinking to adjust to the dim light inside, he looked around and saw that the cave had a surprisingly high ceiling and a smooth, well-worn floor. The spacious cavern was completely empty except for the massive pyramid-shaped rock in the center of the floor.
“The Talking Rock,” Jack murmured, spotting the tiny, intricate shapes, letters, and symbols carved into every inch of the broad main face of the impressive stone.
Late-afternoon sunbeams fell directly onto the lettering, so Jack had no trouble seeing it clearly. Almost immediately he spotted some of the symbols from the map. Aha! Now it was just a matter of translating—all he had to do was find his own language in one of the other columns and match up the words or phrases.
A first glance failed to turn up human language, and he leaned closer to look more carefully. He could probably even make do with Struthine if he had to, though it would take longer to figure it out that way. . . .
There were a few grains of sand scattered across the rock's surface, and Jack reached for the spare shorts in his pocket. As he pulled them out, something clattered noisily to the stony cave floor. Looking down, Jack saw Ty's root digger, which he'd almost forgotten he had. As he bent to pick it up, he noticed that its safety cap had come off in the fall. He glanced around impatiently, but there was no sign of the small bit of tanned hide. He almost decided to leave the tool on the island, not wanting to risk tearing his pants—or his skin—on its sharp teeth. Then he realized that if his mission wasn't successful, he and the others might have to resort to digging up any edible root they could find. Bending over and grabbing the metal tool, he carefully returned it to his pocket.
After brushing every speck of dirt and sand from the rock's surface, Jack scanned it from left to right and top to bottom, searching for a word or symbol he understood. Then he checked it again. And once more. Finally, though, he had to accept the truth—he couldn't read any of the languages on the stone.
His heart sinking, he walked all the way around the huge stone, searching for any writing he might have missed. But there was no more. He felt like collapsing on the spot, giving up, accepting that he would never get home.
Unbidden, Ty's cheerful voice popped into his head. Stop looking so gloomy. Sing and it will go away—didn't your parents ever teach you that saying?
Jack sighed. This was one time that singing wouldn't do any good. Even optimistic Ty couldn't possibly find a bright side to this situation.
I bet he could figure out the map, though, Jack admitted grudgingly, remembering how quickly the other boy had picked up the native tongue of the oasis, even translating that song on the spot. Too bad he can't swim. Maybe I can figure out a way to bring my notebook out here without getting it wet. Then I could copy down some of the lettering and bring it back to him. . . .
Feeling the slightest twinge of hope return, he headed out of the cave. Now that he'd regained his swimming skills, it only took him a few minutes to return to shore. Ty, Hopper, Farsight, and the others were waiting eagerly.
“Did you find it?” Ty demanded.
Jack nodded. “I found it. But our language isn't on there. Neither is Struthine. I saw something that looks like it might be Ceratopsian, though, and another section that could be Hypsilophodont, so I'm sure you could probably figure it out from those. I was thinking on the swim back—maybe we could use some of those trees the Compsognathus knocked down for the fishing piers to build some kind of bridge. . . .”
Ty shook his head impatiently. “That will take too long,” he said. “I have a better idea. Help me swim out there.”
“But you can't swim,” Jack blurted out.
Farsight looked worried. “There is no need to risk your life, young friend,” he told Ty. “We can figure out another way.”
Ty's expression was stubborn. “This is the best way,” he insisted. “I can make it, I know I can. I just need Jack to help me out a little.”
The other Compsognathus were watching anxiously as Hopper did his best to translate what was happening. Meanwhile Jack stared at Ty for a long moment. He couldn't believe the other boy was willing to attempt the swim to the island. It had been daunting enough for Jack, and he already knew how to swim. Still, he could see that Ty wasn't going to back down. One thing Jack had learned about him on this trip—when he made up his mind, there was no changing it.
Jack gave a quick nod. “All right,” he said. “We can give it a try. It does seem like the best way. I'm sure you could translate the map easily—you have a real gift for languages.”
Ty's cheeks reddened slightly. “Oh. Um, thanks,” he mumbled. “Now come on, there's not much daylight left.”
Moments later the two of them were wading through the shallows, heading straight for the island. Jack peered ahead, trying to remember where the drop-off was. “It should be coming up soon,” he warned Ty, who was beside him. “Be careful—it can take you by surprise.”
“I know, I know,” Ty said. “You've told me five hundred times already. I'm watching for— Whoops!” He suddenly flailed forward, almost falling on his face in the water. By windmilling his arms, he managed to splash backward and remain on the shallow shelf. “I think I found it.”
Jack slid his foot forward, locating the edge of the drop-off with his toes. Then he carefully bobbed out into the deeper water. “Okay,” he told Ty. “This is where your swimming lesson starts. Just try to relax—remember, your body's tendency is to float. If you start thrashing around, though, you'll go under. Just hold on to me and maybe kick your feet a little and we should be fine.”
Ty nodded, his expression set and determined. Taking hold of Jack's offered hand, he plunged off the edge of the drop-off. His chin and mouth went under for a moment, but then he bobbed upward until his whole head was free.
“Good!” Jack called, turning and swimming toward the island. It wasn't easy with only one free hand, and the going was slow, but they were making progress. Soon they were nearly halfway there.
We're going to make it, Jack thought hopefully. We're going to be—
“Aaar!” Glug!
Suddenly Jack felt Ty's hand being yanked from his. “Hey!” he yelped just as a small wave splashed over him. Coughing and spitting out the water he'd taken in, he paddled in a circle. Where was Ty?
Panic gripped him as he spotted bubbles rippling the surface a couple of feet back. He must have gone under, Jack thought, barely aware of the yelps of fear drifting toward him from those watching back on shore. I've got to do something!
An endless, agonizing second passed as a million possibilities flashed through his mind. Then one overriding thought took over: There was no time to hesitate. No time to think things through or weigh his options. He had to act—now.
Taking in as much air as his lungs could hold, Jack plunged under the water. Unlike the crystal-clear pool in Waterfall City, the lake was murky and filled with tiny floating bits of this and that. The tops of lanky waterweeds waved, tickling his legs, and a minnow darted past his nose as he looked around, ignoring the way the water stung his eyes.
Where is he? he wondered desperately, circling back in the direction he'd last seen Ty. He must be down here somewhere. . . .
He forced himself deeper. The lake floor came into dim view, about fifteen feet beneath the surface. Jack's lungs were starting to feel tight, and he knew he'd have to go up for air soon. But then he finally spotted Ty.
He was thrashing desperately, bubbles rising from his mouth and nose. At first Jack wasn't sure what had happened. Had he merely panicked and sunk? Why wasn't he trying to get back to the surface? Then Ty spun around,
and Jack saw the waterweed wrapped around his ankle.
For once, he didn't stop to think. Swimming for all he was worth, Jack reached Ty and grabbed for his leg. The viny weed was tangled completely around Ty's ankle, wrapping back over itself in a hopeless, knotty mess. With one glance, Jack could see that it would take far too long to try to untangle it. Meanwhile, Ty's movements slowed and the bubbles came only in weak spurts.
Feeling panicky, Jack swam down a little farther, trying to find a weak spot in the vine. Realizing he was almost at the bottom of the lake, he reached down and yanked at the lower stem of the weed. It didn't budge. He tried again, not knowing what else to do. His lungs burned, and he knew he couldn't stay under much longer. For a second he nearly gave in to despair—he would have to give up, get more air, maybe try again if it wasn't too late. . . .
He braced his feet on the rocky lake floor, pulling with all his might. Once again the vine held firm, though this time Jack felt a sharp pain in his elbow as he pulled back. He realized he'd poked himself on something in the pocket of his own shorts, which were billowing up around him in the current.
The root digger! Suddenly Jack had an idea.
Hold on! he thought in Ty's direction. The other boy had stopped struggling completely. His arms floated limply in the water. Just hold on one more second. . . .
It seemed to take forever to extricate the root digger from his pocket, though it was really only a few seconds. He almost lost hold of it as the current snaked past like a gust of wind, but he tightened his grip and kicked his way lower in the water until he was just inches above the lake floor.
Grabbing the vine, Jack jabbed at it with the sharp end of the tool, then started sawing back and forth. The metal teeth bit into the thick green vine, but the water plant's stem was strong and fibrous, and his progress was slow.