White Cave Escape
WHITE CAVE
ESCAPE
Jennifer McGrath Kent
Copyright © 2009 Jennifer McGrath Kent
E-book © 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the publisher, or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, permission from Access Copyright, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900, Toronto, Ontario M5E 1E5.
Nimbus Publishing Limited
PO Box 9166, Halifax, NS Â Â Â Â Â Â B3K 5M8
(902) 455-4286
Printed and bound in Canada
Design: Kathy Kaulbach, Touchstone Design House
Author photo: Lynne Post
Nimbus Publishing is committed to protecting our natural environment. As part of our efforts, this book is printed on 100% recycled content stock.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
         Kent, Jennifer McGrath
         White Cave escape / Jennifer McGrath Kent.
         ISBN 978-1-55109-711-4
         E-book ISBN 978-1-55109-812-8
I. Title.
PS8621.E645W55 2009 Â Â Â Â Â Â jC813'.6 Â Â Â Â Â Â C2008-907172-7
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) and the Canada Council, and of the Province of Nova Scotia through the Department of Tourism, Culture and Heritage for our publishing activities.
For Beth
and all of the “Taylor's Lane” gang
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 3 ⢠A Ghost Underground
CHAPTER 6 ⢠Smoking is Hazardous to Your Health
CHAPTER 7 ⢠Run, Run as Fast as You Can
CHAPTER 9 ⢠Friends and Enemies
CHAPTER 11 ⢠The Pits of Despair
CHAPTER 12 ⢠An Electrifying Solution
CHAPTER 15 ⢠Climb for Your Life!
CHAPTER 16 ⢠Race for the White Caves
CHAPTER 20 ⢠Holes in the Dark
CHAPTER 22 ⢠What's Big and Black and Shaggy All Over?
CHAPTER 23 ⢠Battle in the White Caves
CHAPTER 24 ⢠Hellos and Goodbyes
“Fore
!!
”
SMACK!
The golf ball went screaming through the air, bounced off a tree, and went whizzing past the ear of a tall, sandy-haired boy.
“Yipes!” yelped Shawn as he ducked. “Tony! Watch where you're hitting that thing!”
“Sorry,” said Tony, grinning. “That was my Tiger Woods swing.”
“I don't know about âTiger,'” said Petra dryly. “But you got the âwoods' part right.” She pointed her golf club in the direction the ball had takenâ straight into the thick forest of trees edging the Hillsborough Golf Course.
“Oh,
man
!” Tony slapped a palm to his forehead.
“Do you want me to help you look for your ball, Tony?” asked Craig. The younger boy's blue eyes sparked with laughter but he was working hard to keep a straight face.
“Aw, forget it, Craig,” said Tony. “We'll never find it in there.” He dropped his club into his golf bag with a sigh. “Are we done yet?”
Petra laughed and shook her chestnut-coloured ponytail. “Tony, we're only on the third hole!”
“Just fifteen more to go,” said Shawn cheerfully, giving Tony a friendly slap on the back. “Let's go.”
“Oh,
man
⦔
It was a hot, dry July day, and the four young people were celebrating their summer freedom on the golf course in Hillsborough, a small town nestled between the Petitcodiac River and the thickly forested hills of Albert County. At first glance, they were an unlikely group of friends. Shawn Mahoney was grey-eyed and quiet, with a passion for building and inventing things. Someday, Shawn hoped to design roller coastersâ¦or maybe work for NASA. He hadn't quite decided yet.
Tony, Shawn's classmate and best friend since kindergarten, was as loud as Shawn was quiet. Short and stocky with a bristly brush cut, Tony crackled with energy and had two main hobbies in life: talking and playing video games.
Craig, Shawn's younger brother, took a full-throttle approach to life. He liked vehicles and machines of all kinds. His latest passion was helicopters. Never in his life would Craig forget his thrilling flight in the cockpit of the huge search-and-rescue Cormorant helicopter the previous winter.
And then there was Petra.
Outdoorsy and athletic, she had met the boys just months before, when the four found themselves thrown together in a life-and-death struggle for survival on the Petitcodiac River. On that occasion, Petra's courage and quick action had saved the boys from a fatal plunge into the icy, brown waters of the notorious “Chocolate River.” Ever since that adventure, the four friends had been inseparable.
Petra hoisted her golf bag onto her shoulder. “Come on, you guysâlet's go.” As they set out across the green, a bear-sized dog lurched from his spot under a shady bush and lumbered after them.
“It's great that the golf club gave us permission to bring Hobart onto the course,” said Tony, resting his hand on the Newfoundland's huge, square head as they walked along.
“It sure was,” agreed Petra. “Hobart has to become familiar with lots of different situations if he's going to be a certified therapy dog. Once Hobie passes the test, Uncle Daryl will be allowed to bring him on real emergency calls, or to visit sick kids in hospitals.
Officially
, I mean,” Petra added quickly, as Tony opened his mouth to interrupt. Hobart's last visit to a hospital had been more of an unauthorized break-in, much to the displeasure of the nurses. Petra's Uncle Daryl was a firefighter. Petra hoped to be one herself some day, and hung out with him and Hobie whenever she got the chance.
“Okay,” said Tony as he teed up the ball at the next hole. “Prepare to stand in aweâ¦this baby's going all the way.”
“Whatever you say, Tiger,” said Petra, rolling her eyes.
Craig snorted with laughter.
“Quiet, please!” sniffed Tony. “I need to find my swing.” He waggled the club back and forth above the ball. He waggled his behind. He shuffled his feet. He shielded his eyes and squinted in the direction of the hole. Then he waggled the club some more.
“You planning on finding your swing any time soon or should we call in search and rescue?” asked Shawn.
Thunk!
went the ball.
Four pairs of eyes followed the ball as it flew up, up, upâ¦
The ball bounced softly onto the green and rolled to a stop just in front of the hole.
“Oh,
yeah
!” whooped Tony. “Just call me Tony the Tiger because I am
GRRRRRR
-REAT!”
Petra laughed. “Get a
GRRRRRRR
-RIP, Hedgehog Headâ¦it was a lucky shot.”
“You're just jealous,” Tony smirked. “My fans love me.”
“Speaking of your fans,” said Shawn, “here comes one nowâ¦and I think he's about to help himself to a souvenir.” He pointed towards the distant green. A small, reddish-brown animal had popped out of the underbrush and was trotting lightly towards Tony's ball.
“A fox!” exclaimed Craig.
Without breaking stride, the fox scooped up the golf ball in its sharp jaws, scampered across the green, and disappeared into the forest on the far side of the course.
“Looks like you're in the woods again, Tiger,” said Petra, grinning.
“What theâhey! That's my lucky ball!” spluttered Tony. Dropping his club on the ground, Tony took off across the golf course at a run. “Come back here, you mangy ball thief!”
“Tony! Where are you going?” called Shawn.
“Come back, Tony! You'll never find him,” hollered Craig as Tony began thrashing his way through the trees.
“I suppose we'd better go after him,” sighed Shawn.
“Really?” Petra raised her eyebrows. “I vote for drinking lemonade at the clubhouse until he tires himself out.”
“Come onâthis is Tony we're talking about,” Craig reminded her with a grin. “He gets lost in his own backyard.”
“Oh, all right,” sighed Petra. “Let's go find him.” She headed towards the trees.
Shoving their heavy golf bags behind a clump of bushes, the two Mahoney brothers and Petra, closely followed by Hobart, pushed their way into the underbrush.
“Tony! For Pete's sakeâwhere are you?” called Shawn as a branch snapped painfully across his nose.
“Over here!” came Tony's voice.
The others pushed their way through the branches and bushes. They found Tony leaning against a tree trunk, panting. “I'm sure I saw that little ball thief come this way. But where'd he go?”
“There!” said Craig, pointing at a wisp of red fur disappearing behind some bushes. The four friends took off again in hot pursuit, with Hobart lumbering unhurriedly behind. At last, the kids stumbled to a stop, puffing and panting.
“This is ridiculous,” said Shawn, wiping the sweat out of his eyes. “We're never going to find the fox in these woods. We've got no way to follow his trail.”
“Yeah,” said Tony. “Too bad we didn't have a dog to track him for us. Oh wait,” he added dryly. “We
do
have a dog.” Panting heavily, Hobart strolled belatedly into their midst and flopped down on the ground with a dramatic groan.
Tony looked at Hobart and shook his head. “Look at you,” he scolded. “Lying down on the job when there are foxes to be chased. And you call yourself a dog!”
Tongue lolling, Hobart grinned good-naturedly up at the bristly-haired boyâ¦and gave a vigorous shake of his head, spraying Tony head to foot with dog drool.
“Nice,” said Tony, wiping a long strand of slobber from one ear. “Thanks a lot.”
“Hey,” said Shawn, peering through the branches. “I can see something white through those bushes. Maybe it's your golf ball, Tony. The fox probably got tired of carrying it.”
Petra was shaking pine needles out of her ponytail. “Well, let's go get it so we can get back. I've had enough of blundering around in the woods for one day. Come onârace you!”
With a snapping of twigs and a rustling of leaves, the four friends burst through the alder thicket and found themselves standing onâ¦nothing! Shawn, Craig, Petra, and Tony tumbled through the air and landed with a thud in a tangled heap at the bottom of a steep embankment.
