Horns & Wrinkles (22 page)

"We knew the way in, didn't we?"

"I guess you did," Uncle Floyd agreed, turning hopeful. "Take me too?"

"We'll take anyone who wants to go."

"That'd be all twenty-nine of us," Uncle Floyd declared.

"So round 'em up," the old lady said.

Uncle Floyd hobbled off to do just that, and within minutes we had twenty-eight horns pointing at us. The only horn not jabbed our way belonged to the Duke who was my cousin. He stayed off to the side, facing our general direction but too busy chowing down on hay to pay us full attention. The other rhinos gave us a hard once-over, saying things like:

"They don't look like much to me."

"What are they selling?"

"Why, they couldn't lead us out of a paper bag."

But Uncle Floyd stood up for us. "This scrawny one's my niece, so mind your manners. And who's had a better offer?"

The rhinos quieted then, for of course they hadn't had any other offers at all.

"I'm only going to say this once," the old lady whispered, "so you better get him too."

She pointed at Duke.

Four rhinos charged over and convinced Duke to join us in nothing flat. They weren't too gentle about it either, but then Duke wasn't too eager to be parted from his hay. Once my cousin recovered his dignity, he leaned his weak rhino eyes over the fence as far as he could for a good solid look at me. His mouth dropped open, with bits of hay falling out, as he said, "I thought I was finally rid of you."

"We're trying to get you home," I sassed right back.

"Who says I want to go?" Duke blustered. "I like it down here just dandy. I've made new friends."

"No, you haven't," Uncle Floyd told him.

"And there's plenty to eat," Duke went on.

"As much as you want." Uncle Floyd's tone made it clear that Duke was a fool for wanting it.

"So who asked for any help?" Duke wanted to know. "Naw, I'm staying right here."

"Not for long, you're not," said Uncle Floyd. "Not the way you're packing down the hay."

"Huh?" Duke stopped in midchew.

"You heard me. Why do you think you're the only one eating?"

"You're not hungry?" Duke guessed, realizing as he spoke how dumb it sounded. The rib cage of every rhino around him was easy to see as the bars of a birdcage. How could they not be absolutely famished?

"You're darn tooting we're not hungry," Uncle Floyd scoffed. "We've seen what happens if you are. First you get all plump and juicy, then it's snack time."

"What's wrong with a little snack?" Duke protested.

"Nothing. Unless
you're
the snack."

"Now, wait a minute," Duke said, gagging. "You guys told me to eat!"

Suddenly all the other rhinos lowered their heads, unable to look at Duke.

"Now you know exactly how many friends all of us have down here," Uncle Floyd told him.

There was a whole lot of head hanging and hoof shuffling as we pictured the Great Rock Troll tying on her bib and getting out her best china. Sniffles broke out here and there. The old lady shook them out of their tailspin by saying, "Fortunately for you, everyone's entitled to a second chance. It's one of the basic laws of the universe."

They all crowded closer with that news, even Duke, who squinted toward the old lady, and said, "Who's that? It sounds like that crazy old bat who tried to drown me."

"Watch it," I warned. "She's here to help you."

"Said the spider to the fly."

We went back and forth in our usual way until the old lady called out softly, "Stump, maybe you better come up here. He might listen to you."

"Who?" Duke couldn't believe his new ears.

"Me," Stump said, stepping out of the shadows.

One look at Stump sent all the other rhinos backpedaling, and reverse isn't an easy direction for anyone with four legs. A considerable pileup was followed by snorting and heartfelt name-calling—all whispered, of course. Duke, alone, stood his ground, unable to believe his luck.

"Is it really you?" Duke asked. "I knew you guys would come for me. I just knew it. But where's Jim Dandy? Where's Biz? What's the plan?"

"Stone," Stump said. "Both of 'em. That's why we're here. We need the stone feather Bodacious Deepthink took from your house."

"No you don't, no you don't, no you don't," Reliable St. John sang from Stump's shoulder.

"But I don't know anything about that," Duke squawked.

"Oh, come off it," Uncle Floyd said. "Every rhino here heard you tell Bo where to find it. Why, she wouldn't even have known about that feather if you hadn't told her."

"I was desperate," Duke whined.

"Not to mention pathetic," Uncle Floyd added.

Other rhinos shared unflattering opinions of Duke until the old lady interrupted.

"Do you know where the feather is now?" she asked.

"I saw her put it in her vest pocket." Duke sniffled.

"That's it, then," the old lady stated. "Once I get the feather, we'll be getting out of here."

"And just how are we doing that?" the rhino with the eye patch wanted to know.

"With a trick or two."

"They better be good ones," Uncle Floyd said. "The last rhino who got caught making a break for it got tucked into popovers."

"I don't trust her," Duke whimpered.

"You'd rather trust Bodacious Deepthink?" I asked.

"Let him," called a rhino from in back.

"Not me," said another.

"His neck."

"Quiet!" the old lady whispered. "My helpers and I have work to do, and we need to do it while Bo's asleep. When we get back, I want you all ready to charge across the bridge."

"Bo's there!" There were several gasps.

"She won't be when the time comes," vowed the old lady.

We left the rhinos without answering any more questions, though there were plenty of them flying around. Once out of earshot of the herd, the old lady held up a hand for everyone to halt.

"Which tunnel takes us up top?" she asked, speaking to Reliable St. John.

"That one," the cave cricket answered from Stump's shoulder. He dipped an antennae toward a tiny tunnel far across the cavern. "Try that one."

"Way over there?" The old lady lifted an amused eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"That's the one."

"I was hoping it would be," the old lady said. Turning her back on the tiny tunnel, she pointed at a large one directly opposite it. "How about that one? Would that get us home too?"

"Better skip that one." Reliable St. John sounded hopeful that she wouldn't. "It's a dead end."

We now faced a tunnel big around as a school bus but without a hint of yellow anywhere. The only color to that tunnel was black. Its mouth was barred with stalagmites and stalactites that looked like sharp teeth in bad need of a dentist, worse need of floss. But the two front teeth had been punched out, leaving a hole big enough to scrape through, though Bodacious Deepthink probably had to turn sideways and hold her breath to make it. A bigger giveaway was the path leading up to the tunnel. Shiny and worn, it led all the way from the stone bridge where Bodacious Deepthink slept.

"That's the one," the old lady said, satisfied that she'd sifted the truth out of the cricket's lies. "Now I want you three to collect a lantern and go stand by that tunnel. Leave the lantern covered until I get the rhinos headed your way, then whip off the cover and give the glass a good rap to get the star glowing. These bullies will need something bright to aim for."

"But"—Stump faltered—"where are you going to be?"

"Why, getting the feather," she joshed, trying to make it sound like a walk in the park. "And if I can't get back to you, just go on without me. You'll have the cricket to guide you, and I'll meet you up top."

The old lady sounded way too cheery to be reassuring. To make matters darker, nobody could think of anything else to say, so with nods and gulps all around, we parted. When the old lady could no longer hear us, Reliable St. John whispered to Stump, "Wrong way, wrong way, wrong way." At least that much was encouraging.

To reach the tunnel, we had to bound across the stream, sidestep crevices filled with snoring rock trolls, and steer clear of other trolls who'd fallen asleep out in the open, next to their pickaxes. At one point we passed Jim Dandy's father, Double-knot, curled up against a wheelbarrow. Stump held up a quarter-step, maybe thinking of waking him, but Reliable St. John kept him moving by commenting, "He'd come quietly, I'm sure."

Not far past Double-knot we reached the path leading to our tunnel.

"Not that way," Reliable St. John said.

By then the old lady was balancing herself on the bridge's stone rail, right in front of Bodacious Deepthink's chest, which was rising and lowering in time to her snores. Pulling on the stone glove, the old lady reached for the stone feather in Bo's vest pocket.

No go.

The rock troll's folded hands blocked the way.

To fix that, she sprinkled fairy dust over Bo's hands, both of which began to rise as if leading a sleepwalker. That gave the old lady the opening she needed. Easing the feather out, she held it up for us to see. Stump waved frantically for her to join us, but she wasn't done on the bridge. With her free hand, she grabbed handful after handful of fairy dust and tossed it over the sleeping Bo.

The Great Rock Troll squirmed as though tickled by the fairy dust spattering across her rocky shoulders and hips. The dust melted and glowed as it sank through her tough old hide.

"Let's watch. Let's watch. Let's watch."

Hearing Reliable St. John say that got us moving.

Stump lifted a covered lantern off a nearby wagon and handed it to me. Through a metal loop on its top, I felt the star waking, though at first its glow barely passed through the burlap cover.

By the time I peeked back at the old lady, she had left the bridge and was following us, unwinding white rope from around her waist as she went. About halfway to us, she stopped between two boulders, one of which looked like a giant bunny standing on its ears, the other like an oversize gumball machine. She knotted one end of the rope around the bunny's ears, laid the middle of it across the path, and looped the other end loosely around the gumball machine.

"What's she doing there?" Stump asked.

"It's for tripping," I said.

"Trolls don't fall," Reliable stated.

I was relieved to hear that lie, though the old lady's handiwork did leave me with one question. What good would the rope do while flat on the ground?

That's where the old lady left it, though. Wheeling around, she headed back toward Bodacious Deepthink. Stump tried pssting at her, but with all the snoring trolls around us, it was wasted breath. This time she avoided the bridge, where Bo was still slightly aglow, and bounded over the black stream, headed for the corral. Once there, she swung the wooden gate wide open.

No rhinos rushed to join her.

The bigger rhinos tried bumping and shoving the smaller ones forward, but the ones being pushed dug their hooves in and held back. Farthest from the gate stood Duke, defiantly munching on Farmer Bailey's hay.

All at once the pushing and shoving ceased.

Back on the bridge, Bodacious Deepthink was beginning to swell and rise like a hot-air balloon. Her shoulders and arms were following her hands upward. Lagging behind were her legs and hips. The old lady dashed back to throw handfuls of dust over the rock troll's lower half.

And still the Great Rock Troll slept. As she lifted up, she mumbled and smacked her flinty lips as though sampling something in a lovely dream. The way her body creaked as it expanded and rose, it was a wonder she didn't wake herself.

For every inch she lifted, the rhinos crowded an inch closer to the gate.

At about ten feet above the bridge, Bodacious Deepthink leveled off, bigger than ever. The rhino herd had edged up to the open gate, though not a horn farther. To show them that everything was safe, the old lady trotted right under the floating rock troll.

Still, no one followed, not even Uncle Floyd. Stopping beneath Bodacious, the old lady waved to them like a tourist. By then the fairy dust had sifted all the way through Bo, making her underside glow faintly as sparkling gold and green specks began to flake off her. Ever so slightly, Bodacious Deepthink began to slowly settle back down.

It was Uncle Floyd who summoned his courage first. Butting his way to the front of the herd, he shuffled across the bridge, passing directly beneath Bodacious Deepthink without a scratch. Weak from hunger, he had to pull up several times to catch his breath, and once he even tripped, crashing to his knees. No matter. Bodacious Deepthink snoozed on.

As soon as Uncle Floyd cleared the bridge, Stump whipped the burlap feed sack off the lantern I was holding and knocked the glass with a knuckle. The shooting star inside came to life, shining like a beacon, and the old lady shoved Uncle Floyd down the path toward it. He didn't have any fast in him—barely any slow—but it was a start.

Seeing that, all the bullies but Duke broke for the bridge at once, shoving and pushing and tripping to get across first. A huge rhino jam followed, right beneath Bodacious Deepthink. Thank goodness she was snoring loud as ever and never heard the commotion.