Ghost Cave (15 page)

Finally Hermie tugged her onto the ledge. Then he almost lost his balance as she licked and licked his face.

“Careful,” Marc called. “Just stick her into the hole.”

“That's easier said than done.” Hermie tried to stuff Bluedog into the crawl space. “Go, Bluedog, go in there. Squish down.” Hermie giggled, pushing Bluedog and sliding behind her. “She doesn't want to go.”

“Tough. Holler to Eddie to call her.” Marc knew Eddie had gone on through instead of waiting for them like he was supposed to. One good thing—if Eddie hadn't come back by now, the crawl must go through. Or—or he was still in it. Marc prepared himself. No caver likes to crawl far, especially when he doesn't know how long the tunnel is and where he's going to come out.

In seconds, Marc had pulled himself up onto the ledge. He stopped thinking, pushed his pack ahead of him, and started into the tight crawl space. He had to flatten himself totally. If he raised his rear at all, it kept him from going forward.

Hermie was still wiggling in front of Marc. He had taken off his pack and tied it to his foot, dragging it behind so he could push Bluedog ahead. Marc pushed both his pack and Hermie's.

Please, please let this go someplace
. It would be terrible for all of them to have to back out. Sides of the crack started to close in. Then Hermie stopped.

“What's the matter?” Marc asked. His voice sounded hollow in the tunnel. He tried to keep focused on the cold air blowing over them.

“I think I'm stuck.”

“No, no, you aren't. Push. Are your arms flattened out in front of you?” Marc fought the feeling of being trapped in the hole behind Hermie. Too late, he realized they should have gone through the crawl one at a time, so there would always be two to help if one got into trouble.

The feeling of rock pushing against him from every direction started to get to him. Suddenly he had to fight the urge to stand up, to scream, to get out of the crawl.
Calm, Marc. Calm
, he told himself, just as he'd encouraged Bluedog.
Think of Hermie. Think how awful it would be to think you were stuck
. “Are you pushing?”

Hermie moved an inch. “I'm trying!”

“Don't panic, Hermie. Take a deep breath, and when you breathe out all the air, push forward. Move a little at a time. Push hard.”

Hermie did as Marc said and started to inch forward a little. Marc laid his head on his hands and rested.
Don't think about where you are. Don't think about the rock walls closing in on you
.

“I'm coming out.” Hermie's voice was relieved and excited. “I'm coming out!”

Bluedog barked. Eddie had gone back into the crawl space and pulled her forward. When Hermie had stopped thinking about the dog and worried just about himself, he'd managed to pop out of the tight place and slide out onto the breakdown of dirt and rubble beside Eddie and Bluedog. Marc inched through the narrowest part of the crawl, then scooted quickly forward and out.

“Jumpin' Jehoshaphat,” he said, belly flopping onto the pile of dirt and sliding down to sit beside the rest of the cave expedition. “I thought I'd be in there forever. I hate doing long crawls like that.”

“You thought
you'd
be in there forever? What about me?” Hermie sat, hugging Bluedog. His face was the dirtiest Marc had ever seen it. And the happiest.

Shining his light on Eddie, Marc realized something was wrong. “What's up, Eddie? We're out of there. The crawl went someplace.” They were in a small room, the best Marc could see. The air smelled really fresh, as if they were close to the outside.

“I—I—There was someone in the tunnel ahead of me.”

Both Hermie and Marc were speechless. Finally Marc said, “That's impossible.”

“No. I—I saw his foot.”

“You saw his foot?” Hermie asked. “What did it look like? You're trying to scare me again, aren't you? You planned this for a joke because this is my first time in a cave. A sort of an initiation. I'll bet we weren't even lost. You said that we were and told me all that stuff about hodags, to scare me.”

“Believe me, Hermie,” Eddie was starting to talk normally. “We were lost. We may still be lost. And I'll swear I saw something in the tunnel ahead of me.”

“What did the foot look like?” Marc asked again. “Did it have a shoe?” Marc half thought Eddie was joking, too, but he looked pretty odd.

“It—it—” Eddie started to stutter again. “It was wearing a moccasin.”

“Oh, sure.” Marc knew Eddie was teasing them now. “Boy howdy, we'd better get you out of here, Eddie. You're losing it.”

Eddie jumped up and shouted. “I'm not kidding, Marc. There was a foot ahead of me in the crawl and it had on a moccasin. The moccasin had blue beads on it. It was brown suede and had designs in blue beads. You don't have to believe me, but I saw it. I know I did!”

15

T
WO
S
ECRETS

Put so strongly, Marc had to believe Eddie thought he saw something. But he couldn't believe it himself. They had all talked so much about the Indian boy and the grave that it was perfectly possible Eddie, scared and tired, could have imagined something in the darkness.

Maybe he'd seen the packrat that had made the scratching noise above them. They were obviously close to the outside. The packrat had come snooping around. Lucky for them, he'd come out on the ledge. Then he went back down the tunnel. Eddie had caught up to him, and just for a minute the packrat had looked like a brown moccasin.

“Okay, okay, you saw a foot.” Marc decided to humor Eddie. “Let's look around. I think we're almost out of the cave.”

“You don't believe me, do you?” Eddie gripped Marc's arm.

“It doesn't matter if I do or I don't.” Marc shook Eddie's hand off and started forward. “What matters is that we get out of here.”

Eddie's face took on a sullen look, and he waited until Hermie and Bluedog followed Marc. He brought up the rear. Marc didn't care how Eddie felt. All he could think of was seeing daylight.

The room was about ten feet across, then made a turn to the right. On each side of a corridor where they could stand upright, there were hollowed-out ledges and pillars. The posts were smooth and the ledges were shallow. There were circular marks in the rock as if water had swirled inside the cave for centuries, carving them out. It confirmed Marc's idea that the river had cut out this cave as it eroded its way into the valley.

Rounding a corner, Bluedog stopped and started to whine. They all three stopped behind her and peered into the dim light that their lamps threw onto the cave walls ahead. They could barely see that the path started uphill and split off into two directions. Another decision. Marc was sick of making decisions. He wanted out of the cave. He'd had enough caving, enough adventure for one day—maybe for the whole summer.

“What's wrong with your dog, Marc?” Eddie was still angry.

Marc knelt beside Bluedog and patted her. “I don't know. This is the way she acted before I found the grave.”

“Maybe she wants to get out of here,” said Hermie. “I know I do. But she's making me nervous.” Hermie knelt on the other side of the dog. “What do you see, Blue? Do you hear something? Dogs can hear better than we can.”

“Holy Cow, Hermie. Everybody knows that. You think we're dumb?”

“What's the
matter
with you, Eddie?” Hermie said, tired enough to stand up to Eddie. “Stop trying to pick a fight and help us decide how to get out of here.”

Before anyone could decide, Marc looked up. In the dim light their lamps threw across the room, someone appeared in front of the tunnel on the left.

It was a boy just about their age. He was naked except for a loincloth. His skin was dark, his hair jet black and straight to his shoulders. A small piece of rawhide circled his head, holding his hair in place. On his feet were the brown moccasins that Eddie had described. Sure enough, they were beaded in turquoise blue. And around his neck, hanging on another piece of leather string, was the blue medallion they had found in the grave.

Marc blinked—once, twice. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked again and the figure disappeared into the tunnel on the left.

“Did you see that?” Marc whispered.

“What?” asked Hermie. “Are you all right, Marc? Stop standing there. We want to get out of here.”

“You didn't see anything up ahead of us?” Marc had thought Eddie was seeing things because he was tired. Now he was doing the same thing.

Eddie stared at Marc. “Look, we're all tired. I'm getting out of here.” Eddie headed for the right-hand passageway.

“This way, Eddie,” Marc said, starting to the left. “This is the way out.”

“What makes you so sure?” Eddie asked. “I say we go this way. You have a map?”

“I—I—”

They stood there in the black, cold silence, broken only by their breathing and the beams from three faltering flashlights and three dim headlamps. Marc's light went out. He beat on the end with the bulb.

“I'm leaving,” Eddie said. “You coming, Hermie?”

Hermie looked at Marc. “What did you see, Marc?”

Eddie stared at Marc again.

“Nothing—it was nothing. Come on, I have a strong feeling that we should go to the left.” Marc started in that direction and Hermie followed. Eddie had no choice but to come along.

Bluedog trotted just ahead of Marc, as if nothing had happened. There was no more whining, barking, reluctance to go forward.

“Bluedog likes this way,” Hermie pointed out.

The space pinched down some and was filled with smooth stones like those in a creek bed. Their shoes crunched and rattled against the rocks. No one said anything. They kept going forward, following Bluedog, crawling after a short distance, even though the stones bruised their knees and hands. The tunnel was just Bluedog's size.

“Light! There's light up ahead!” said Eddie. He moved faster, past Marc, even though he was bent double, waddling like a duck. Marc was still crawling, too tall to squat for long.

Never had sunshine looked so good. They burst out of the cave onto a ledge and belly flopped to look around. Far below, the river meandered along. They were high up on the bluffs.

“Boy howdy, this looks good,” Marc said. “I thought we'd be in that cave forever.”

“
You
did.” Hermie rubbed his eyes. “I thought we were going to die in there. That Indian boy died in there. I know he did. He got lost and—” Hermie started to ramble, as if he couldn't stop talking once fresh air had filled his lungs.

Marc and Eddie burst out laughing at the same time. Marc put out his hand and Eddie slapped it. Bluedog whined and licked Marc's face.

“How will we get Bluedog down from here?” Hermie asked.

“I should have brought the rope,” said Marc.

“The strap on the bottom of my pack comes off.” Hermie sat down and began to unfasten it. “It's not that long, but it's wide.”

“We can add my belt to it.” Marc unbuckled his leather belt. It was the first time he'd thought about using it.

Quickly he looped it around Bluedog's middle. Then Hermie slipped his backpack strap under the belt, knotting it on top. They tied the rope into a loop they could hold.

“You're a doggie suitcase, Bluedog,” said Hermie, patting her on the head. Bluedog no longer protested any of the strange things the boys did.

It took an hour to work their way down the slope. Much of the rock was rotten and not good for climbing. Time after time they slid, starting tiny avalanches of rock and dirt. Sometimes they had to lower Bluedog on the strap. But there was no more fighting or arguing. They all helped each other and Bluedog. As they dropped lower, the bushes and undergrowth got thicker. They plowed through it, making a path. They ignored the scrapes and scratches of the branches; they were happy just to be outside.

“We're going to get covered with ticks,” said Hermie.

“Who cares?” answered Eddie.

There was a drop-off if they went straight to the river, so they cut back toward the direction of the highway. As soon as they got lower, Bluedog, freed from her harness, bounced and ran to lap up the muddy brown water.

The boys followed her and, late as it was, they took time to shed shoes and socks and wade in the warm water. Sitting there on the bank, watching Bluedog snap at bees, they fell deep into their own thoughts. Marc's were mostly about being thankful they'd gotten out of the cave—and about the help he knew they'd had. It was not his imagination. He knew he had seen the—the Indian boy.

Hermie finally broke the silence. “I was afraid it'd be dark when we got out. We weren't in there as long as I thought. It's only six o'clock.”

“If we'd gone back the way we came in, it would be the middle of the night. Getting out seemed longer, too, since we were turned around.” Marc refused to say lost again. He didn't want to think about it. “But we were in there about ten hours.”

Another silence. “What was it you saw, Marc?” Eddie asked.

Now, out in the lingering light of day, Marc thought about his experience. A part of him was sure he had seen the boy. But maybe he'd been thinking about him so much all day that he'd imagined it. Bluedog did act funny. Eddie did think he saw something earlier. But neither Eddie nor Hermie saw what Marc saw—thought he saw.

“Why were you so sure about which way to go, Marc?” Hermie joined the questioning.

“It felt right. And Bluedog seemed to want to go that way.” Marc hugged her. He'd give her the credit. At least until he thought all this over again. Maybe some day he'd tell Hermie and Eddie what he'd seen. But right now it was much easier to say Bluedog had decided than to believe he'd seen a—a ghost. It was even hard to say the word. He'd never believed in ghosts, in spirits who hung around after bodies were dead. But now …