* * *
“Where are we going, boys?” Cheeryup was pleased to be out of gaol, but less sanguine about heading off into the woods in the dark.
“Oooo, we have something special to show you!” crowed Wyll.
“Maybe you do, Wyll Underfoot, but you have some apologies to make first!” The girl was mad, even in the dark.
“For what?”
“For running off and leaving me alone, you nincompoop,” raged Cheeryup. “I had no idea where you and Orli went off to, but you left me to fend for my mother, not to mention Mr. Dorro, who looks like he’s about to cry whenever I see him.”
“Good!” snapped the sandy haired boy. “That’s what he gets for calling me a thief and a liar.”
“I’ll grant you that Mr. Dorro was a little harsh on you that evening, but you need a little more backbone,” she ribbed. “Stop being so sensitive! Wyll, I’m sorry you lost your mother and I know Mr. Dorro can be difficult at times—if not exasperating—but he means well and provides for you very nicely. For pity’s sake, you live in the nicest burrow in Thimble Down!”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” moped the boy.
“That’s because it is true, Wyll Underfoot,” said Cheeryup, who always called her friend by his full name when she irked with him. “And don’t think I’m not ticked at you too, Orli!”
The hulking Dwarf lad averted his eyes from Cheeryup’s fiery gaze. “Now, tell me about your discovery.”
“We’re almost here, so we’ll just show it to you.” The trio stumbled down the embankment to the edge of the River Thimble and kept jogging northward at a steady pace.
“Here!” shouted Wyll as he and Orli began removing brush. They found a few cinders still hot and quickly relit their brands. The boys headed deeper into the cave, and Cheeryup followed, ducking into the fissure after them.
“Oh my ...” For the first time in about an hour, the girl had run out of things to say.
“You know what this is, right?” asked Wyll. “Orli found it when he was rooting around in the cave.” The Dwarf boy grinned with pride.
“It’s the Pie Thief’s cache, isn’t it?” said Cheeryup meekly. “This is a major breakthrough, boys. Look—there’s Mrs. Fowl’s pie tins, Dowdy Cray’s wagon axel, and even the dress my mum sewed!”
“He was a busy one, weren’t he?” added Orli. “This is my Uncle Wump’s drinking flask and Uncle Two-Toes’ pocket knife!”
“What are we going to do?” chimed in Wyll.
“We could do two things.” Cheeryup put her hand to her chin and looked serious. “Either we can stake out the cave and try to catch the Pie Thief ourselves, or we can go tell the Sheriff and have him do the dirty work.”
“But what if ol’ Bindlestiff’s papers are here. Shouldn’t we snatch those for ourselves and go show ’em to Uncle Dorro?”
“That’s a longshot, Wyll. We don’t know if the Pie Thief actually stole them and if he—or she—did, it may take days to find it in all this mess.”
Crash!
The children froze in place as they heard a thundering noise in the front of the cave. Then shouts—they knew they were no longer alone. “Get them ruddy kids!” bellowed a hoarse, echoey voice, followed by thundering footsteps that reverberated off the hard stone walls. “They’re in this bleedin’ cave somewhere; check every nook ’n’ cranny.”
Wyll, Cheeryup and Orli began looking for an escape route, but seeing nothing, Wyll stepped up to the girl and whispered in her ears: “Hide!”
Cheeryup shook her head no, but his eyes blazed with violent intensity, so she dashed to a corner and covered herself with some of the Pie Thief’s stolen clothing and concealed herself deep under the pile.
A greasy head poked through the chasm opening. “In here, boss! We got ’em!” A moment later, several other Halflings scrambled through the hole, including one they recognized: Fibbhook, the evil foreman at Bindlestiff’s Smelting Works.
“Ain’t this a purty picture—two rotten kids and their treasure, all neat in a bundle. Good work tracking ’em, boys. These rats are the Pie Thieves, and now we can bring ’em back to Sheriff Forgo for their crimes. But first we’ll have a look around and see if that bratty girl is here. And we can grab a few treasures for ourselves, too. Find that lass!”
The tough workers from the smeltery fanned out and started poking through the stolen goods. “She’s not here!” yelled Wyll, “Cheeryup bolted when she saw the cave—said she weren’t going into any dirty hole in the wall. Plus she had no idea Orli and I are the Pie Thieves.” For his part, Orli said nothing and just looked at his feet in shame. “How did you find us anyway?” wondered Wyll.
“Oh, my spies have been following you rats for days,” snarled Fibbhook. “We knew you had run away from yer precious Uncle Dorro, but hoped you would lead us to the location of Mr. Bindlestiff’s stolen papers. Rest assured, we’ll turn this cave upside down to find ’em. Now you two sit on the ground and shut yer gobs. When we’re ready to go, we’ll tie you and march you back to the gaol. Sheriff Tubby-Guts will be more than pleased to see you and hold you lot over for trial. And Mr. Bindlestiff will give us each a raise for bringing you in.”
An hour later, Fibbhook and his henchmen had ransacked the stolen treasure and picked out a few easily sellable items each. They failed to find the missing papers, nor did they discover Cheeryup, who had burrowed even deeper into the pile. The gang finally grabbed the boys and hauled them off into the night and ultimately to the Thimble Down gaol. Finally, they’d adjourn to the Hanging Stoat for some beers and chops to celebrate.