Pigeon Post

  SQUASHY HAT COMES OUT OF THE HILL

  Squashy Hat looked round over the Topps, as if to choose his direction, and then set off at his usual steady long-legged march.

  “Oughtn’t we to head him off?” said Dorothea.

  “He isn’t going near the gulch,” said Roger.

  “But how did he get here?” said Dick.

  They watched the tall, lanky figure striding over the mosses and then, like Indians, wormed their way towards the place where they had first seen him.

  There, among the rocks, they found a hole hardly higher than one of themselves. They stared through it into the darkness but could see nothing because of the bright sunshine outside.

  “It’s a mine,” said Roger.

  “He must have been hiding in it,” said Dorothea.

  “But we saw him go over the ridge,” said Roger.

  “We’d have seen him if he went in here,” said Dick. “There must be another way in.”

  “Jolly good snake work,” said Roger. “If he got here without us spotting him … I say, it’s quite a decent tunnel inside.”

  He had pulled out the torch Titty had lent him and was flashing it into the hole. Dick and Dorothea peered past him.

  “It must have had a bigger opening once,” said Dick.

  “Half a minute,” said Roger, backing hurriedly. “I’d better fasten the end of the string.”

  “Oh! but look here, Roger, ought we?” said Dorothea. “Susan said …”

  “Squashy’s lots older than John or Susan,” said Roger. “Susan said we weren’t to explore any hole where she and John hadn’t been, so as to be sure it was safe. Well, he’s older than both of them put together, and he’s a native, too. It’s perfectly absolutely certain this one’s all right … And here’s a bit of heather that’ll just do …”

  He squatted on the ground and tied the end of his string to the brown stringy stem of the heather. Then, letting the ball unroll as he moved, he went back into the tunnel.

  “Come on, Dick,” he said. “Somebody else must hold a torch. It takes two hands to look after this string.”

  “It must be all right,” said Dick. “We’ve only just seen him come out.”

  “Just a little way,” said Dorothea.

  A moment later all three of them had disappeared into the side of the hill. Once inside, they stopped to look out from the darkness of the tunnel across the sunlit Topps. Squashy Hat was walking steadily away.

  “Oughtn’t somebody to watch him?” said Dorothea.

  “He isn’t going anywhere near the gulch,” said Roger. “Come on. This is a bigger cave than ours. We might find anything.”

  “How did you find the gold in ours?” said Dorothea.

  “Oh, just banging about with a hammer,” said Roger. “Come on. Let’s go a bit further in. Look out for the string.”

  “It isn’t as dry as ours,” said Dick, who was looking carefully at a damp, shiny place on one wall … “Probably because ours is only shallow and this one goes into the hill itself.”

  “Well, we mustn’t go very far, anyway,” said Dorothea, “but do let’s find something.” Already she saw their proud return, opening their hands to show the treasure they had found. Probably not gold … but something else … Silver would hardly be worth while … Diamonds? Why not? Underground, in a place like this, they might find anything.

  “Do look out for the string,” said Roger. “If you tread on it and bust it we won’t find our way back.”

  “But we can see the light at the opening,” said Dick.

  “I can’t now,” said Roger. “The tunnel twists a bit … Where’s your torch? I say, this is real exploring …”

  “Not too far,” said Dorothea.

  “Hullo,” said Dick, who was tapping with his hammer. “Wood. They’ve been propping it up a bit …”

  “Or a hiding place,” said Dorothea. “They may have hid all sorts of things behind the wood.”

  “Propping it up,” said Dick. “It’s been a bit crumbly. You can see here. There’s only just room to squeeze past …”

  “Perhaps that’s the end,” said Dorothea hopefully.

  “It isn’t,” said Dick. “It gets bigger and goes on again.”

  “You wriggle through, Dot,” said Roger. “Or I will, and you take the string for a moment. Don’t go and tread on it again.”

  They climbed over the loose stuff that had half choked the passage and threw the light from their torches this way and that over the solid stone walls.

  “Hoo … Hoooo,” said Roger, making his voice hollow to match the tunnel. “I say, we’re going to come to the end of the string pretty soon.”

  “We’ll have to turn back then, anyhow,” said Dorothea.

  *

  It was just about now that Titty, who had seen them lurking in the heather far away, and had herself taken cover to watch Squashy Hat, looked for them again and could not see them. She had her message for them, from Susan, and had to find them. And now they had vanished altogether. Good scout-work, of course, but, at this moment, rather a nuisance.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  BURIED ALIVE

  TITTY was sure she had seen them over there under Ling Scar, the long spur of Kanchenjunga that was like an arm flung round the northern side of High Topps. She had caught sight of Squashy Hat first, striding towards her over the rough ground, “late for dinner at Atkinson Ground,” she had guessed. She had watched him carefully, to make sure he was not going too near Golden Gulch, in which case she would have had to dash across in front of him to warn the prospectors. Then, when she looked again for Dick, Roger, and Dorothea, she could not see a sign of them. They had been lurking behind some rocks, so as not to be seen by Squashy Hat. That she had understood. But he was a long way this side of them by now. There was no friendly bracken patch over there in which they could be snaking along unseen. They had not had time to move very far, and Titty brought the telescope to bear on one group of rocks after another, looking for a hat, a hand, a leg, no matter what, that should betray their hiding place.

  “Jolly good Indianing,” said Titty to herself, and then, as she had a message to give, and it was no good signalling at people you couldn’t see, she set off at a run across the dried-up mosses.

  *

  This surely was the place where she had seen them last. That was the face of rock they had been looking at. Why, there were the marks of their hammers. She looked carefully round. And there were the remains of three sucked oranges carefully pushed away to be tidy in among the roots of the heather. “They ought to have brought them back to the camp to burn,” thought Titty. “But they may have pushed them in there just for the time.” But where were they? She looked back across High Topps. Squashy Hat was already nearing the Dundale road hurrying home to his dinner. She called out, not too loud.

  “Ahoy!”

  She listened.

  “Ahoy, you idiots,” she called again. “Grub! Susan says you’re to come.”

  What was that? Was somebody answering? But where from?

  Titty glanced at one after another of the black holes along the foot of the Scar. After what Susan had said, surely nobody would have gone into one of the old workings even to hide from Squashy. And then, suddenly, she saw a tuft of heather jerk. It was a windless day. Perhaps there was a weasel in the heather. Very quietly Titty moved towards it. It jerked again, and this time she saw the string stretched from the heather and disappearing into a tunnel.

  “Roger!” she called.

  Dick and Dorothea were different. Perhaps it was all right for them, but what Susan would say if she knew that Roger had gone into one of the unexplored workings, Titty did not like to think.

  “THEY’VE GONE IN!”

  “Roger!” she called again.

  The string jerked, but there was no other reply. If all three of them were in there and talking, they would probably never hear her. What dreadful bad luck that she had lent Roger her torch. He must be brought out at once. Ti
tty took hold of the string and gave it a pull. There was a faint jerk at the other end of it. She did not pull it again. What if it were to break on a sharp edge of rock, and the others were to be left without it? Titty looked round again from the mouth of the hole. There was nobody in sight except Squashy, just disappearing as he dropped down from the Topps to the Dundale road. No sign of Susan. No sign of the miners at Golden Gulch. There was no one to whom she could signal. And, anyhow, it would be better to get Roger out before ever John or Susan, specially Susan, knew that he had gone in.

  Titty took the string lightly in her fingers and set out stoutly into the darkness.

  For the first few yards she could see well enough. It was odd, coming in from the dried-up fell to feel her feet on mud, or at least on ground that was sticky. She remembered going with the others to see Slater Bob, and the puddles in the tunnel, and the trickle of water at the side of the narrow trolleyway. But it grew darker very quickly, and it was not at all pleasant, feeling along the rough surface of the rock, and letting her fingers slip gently along the string.

  “Hi! Stop! Roger!” she called.

  “Hullo!” There was an answer. Quite near. But why was there no light? She was sure Dick and Dot had taken their torches when they set out, and she had given her own to Roger.

  “Hullo!” she called back. “Where are you?”

  “Hullo!” came the answer again. More like Dorothea than Roger.

  “Ow!” She bumped into something right in front of her. Rough, damp wood. There was a rattle of small stones and loose earth.

  Titty stood still. At least she had matches. She pulled out her box and struck a match. She saw that she was at a sort of kink in the tunnel, which turned sharply right, and then left again. It had been roughly timbered at the bend, many, many years ago, and above her head were bending planks, resting at the sides on upright timbers. Earth and small stones were dropping through the spaces between the overhead planks, and some of the supporting timbers seemed to have slipped, so that the tunnel was already very narrow, and to get round the bend she had to creep over a pile of stones and earth. Just the very sort of tunnel that Susan had been afraid of. Just the sort of place that even Captain Nancy had said was not particularly safe. She must get Roger out of it at once.

  “Roger,” she called. “Wait a minute. Don’t go any further.”

  “Hullo!”

  There they were, close to. She saw the string leading round the corner, just as her match went out, burning the tips of her fingers. A moment later, in the darkness, she saw the glimmer of light on the wall, and then, creeping on, she saw, not far ahead of her, the shadowy figures and the electric torches of the exploring three.

  Again she bumped into one of the old timbers at the side of the tunnel. Again something seemed to give, and a shower of small stuff came down on her head from between the old planks with which miners long since dead had roofed in their narrow alleyway.

  “Roger!” she called. “Stop! You’ve got to come out at once. Susan said we weren’t to go anywhere in the workings unless she or John had been in first to make sure it was all right.”

  “But it is all right,” said Roger. “Squashy Hat came out of this hole himself, and he’s bigger than either of them.”

  “But it’s all falling to bits,” said Titty. “Listen. It’s still trickling down where I bumped into the side. Just listen to it. You’re to come back at once. Come on. Look here. Are you an A.B. or aren’t you? The captains’ll be awfully mad. As well as Susan …”

  “Out of the very bowels of the earth he came,” said Dorothea, as much to herself as to the others.

  “He just bobbed up like an earthworm,” said Roger, “and brushed his old hat and off he went.”

  “But listen,” said Titty.

  Dick was flashing his torch over the sides of the tunnel which, here, were solid rock, without any supporting timbers. Everything here was solid enough. But from behind them, at that kink in the tunnel, where the roof had been shored up with wooden props, and the planks were bulging overhead, came again the noise of falling earth.

  “It was quite all right when we came through,” said Roger.

  “But listen to it,” said Titty. “Come on. We’ve got to get out quick.”

  There was the noise of a heavier stone falling in the tunnel behind them, the creak of splitting wood, again that noise of trickling earth, suddenly growing louder, louder. There was another creak, and then a dull rumble and a crash, followed by little noises of stone on stone, falling gradually away into silence.

  Roger and Dorothea flashed their torches on each other’s faces. Dick was already hurrying back towards the place where the noise had been. Titty grabbed Roger by the arm, and herself started back along the tunnel.

  “Look out,” said Roger. “Look out for the string. Don’t get it tangled in your feet.”

  “We can’t get out this way,” said Dick quietly. “Those old timbers must have slipped and the tunnel’s blocked.”

  “Shut in,” said Dorothea.

  “But we’ve got to get out,” said Titty.

  “Can’t we climb over?” said Roger.

  “Buried alive,” said Dorothea.

  Their torches showed a mass of loose earth and stones with here and there the end of a rotten timber sticking out of it. The tunnel was blocked. The ancient roofing had given way and a tremendous weight of stuff had come down with it.

  “More’ll come down if we try climbing over,” said Titty.

  “They’ll come and dig us out,” said Dorothea. “They’ll find the string just going into nothing but earth.” She was looking at the string at her feet, disappearing under the fallen stuff that blocked the tunnel.

  Titty’s voice rose suddenly higher. “But they mustn’t!” she said. “They mustn’t. Susan’ll think Roger’s dead. We’ve got to dig through it ourselves … quick … quick, before they guess what’s happened.”

  “Look out,” said Dick. “These timbers are giving, too. Get away. Get back to where it’s all rock.”

  They scuttered back along the tunnel.

  “I say, I’m awfully sorry, Titty,” said Roger.

  “Well, we’d better go on,” said Dick calmly. “We’ll be able to get out where Squashy Hat got in. He didn’t get in here …”

  Dick’s words somehow surprised everybody. With the mouth of the tunnel being suddenly closed behind them, the others had forgotten that they could still go forward even if they could not go back.

  “Come on,” said Titty. “As quick as ever we can. Susan’ll be looking for us almost at once. She’d sent me to bring you home for grub.”

  Roger tugged at the string. It was no good. He pulled it with all his force, and the string broke. Titty knew just what the searchers would find, the little clump of heather, the string leading from it into the hill, and then vanishing under such a weight of earth and rock as might take days to shift. If once they saw that, nothing could save them from thinking that Roger and the D’s and Titty herself were buried underneath it.

  “Oh, don’t waste time,” she cried. “Come on. Don’t bother about winding up the string.”

  “We may want it,” said Dick, who was no longer absent-minded. Just as when they found the cragfast sheep in the winter holidays, he seemed to be thinking of everything at once and to know what to do.

  “Don’t waste the torches,” he said. “Just in case. Put yours out, Dot, and yours, Roger. We’ll use mine up first. We must have one to make sure of the footmarks.”

  “Footmarks?”

  “Squashy Hat’s,” said Dick. “I was looking at them just before we heard you shout. It’s damp on the ground, and they’re as clear as can be … Not here …”

  “We’ve all been trampling round like buffalo,” said Titty, almost laughing with relief.

  “Here you are,” said Dick. “This is as far as we got. And there are the marks of Squashy’s boots.”

  Titty looked at them in the light of Dick’s torch held close to t
he ground. Large boots, his had been, with climbing-nails round the edges of the soles.

  “You couldn’t have better hoofmarks,” she said.

  “Lots of them,” said Dick, “and all pointing one way. He’s been through more than once. We’ve only got to follow them and we’re bound to come out somewhere.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  HURRYING MOLES

  IT was not too easy to move in single file along the tunnel by the light of a single torch, but they knew that Dick was right. Torches lasted a long time when you just flashed them on and off, but they faded away very quickly if you kept them lit and tried to read by them or anything like that. With only three good torches they could not afford to waste light. Who could tell how long the tunnel might be?

  Dick went first, stooping low, lighting up the big footprints clearly marked on the damp floor of the tunnel. Year after year had gone by with no one passing that way. Dust had fallen and turned to mud, and now there were the big footprints, heel and toe, heel and toe, made by Squashy. This was easier tracking than when Dick and Titty had tried to follow Nancy’s footsteps up the dry path through the wood.

  After Dick came Roger and Dorothea, looking forward into the darkness over the stooping Dick, and seeing the rocky sides and roof of the tunnel, lit up here and there from the torch that Dick was holding only a foot above the ground as he looked from footprint to footprint. Titty came last, but all three of them were as near Dick and his light as they well could get, and Titty was urging him to get on a little quicker.

  “She’s sure to come to look for us,” she said. “Do hurry up. Never mind the footprints. So long as the tunnel doesn’t divide we must be going right.”