Part 8 (1/2)

The echoing roar was deafening in the main chamber, where the waterfall from the surface pounded against the ground and splattered mud in every direction. Aidan's ears were ringing as he struggled to climb into the tunnel that led to the Errolsons' sleeping chamber. The tunnel was a slippery slope, but at least there was no current to contend with after they left the main chamber.

When Aidan and Dobro reached their chamber, there was much rejoicing. Errol, Brennus, Jasper, and Percy were all safe and all greatly relieved to see Aidan and Dobro unhurt. On the other side of the tunnel, Marvin and his gang were safe and sound, though bedraggled.

The storm continued through the night. It was a night of much anxiety, for even if all fifteen people in the Errolsons' tunnel were accounted for, they had no way of knowing how things stood in the other tunnels. Then there was always the possibility the water could rise high enough to close the tunnel entrance and seal off their supply of air. It seemed unlikely, and if it happened, it was more unlikely they would consume all the air in the tunnel before the waters receded. Even so, the possibility, however remote, of suffocating in the company of Marvin and his boys made Aidan feel queasy.

”We've done all we can do,” Errol said. ”We are in the hands of the living G.o.d.” Then he lay down on his pallet and went to sleep. His sons and Dobro, on the other hand, were unable to sleep and didn't even try.

Meanwhile, Marvin and the boys were having a prayer meeting out in the tunnel, where the water continued to creep higher and higher. No one had ever known them to pray before, even at mealtimes, but there they were, praying loudly and earnestly, making deals with G.o.d, promising to behave themselves if only G.o.d would deliver them. Their prayers grew louder and more desperate the higher the waters rose. Marvin stood at the very edge of the water and commanded it in the name of the living G.o.d to come no farther. But by the time he opened his eyes after his lengthy prayer, his toes were under water.

Aidan tapped Marvin on the shoulder. ”Um, Marvin,” he began, ”I think you boys have the right idea, of course, but do you think you could pray a little more quietly? Father is trying to sleep.”

Marvin's eyes burned with righteous indignation. ”I thought your pap was a man of faith. Why ain't he out here praying with us instead of sleeping?”

Aidan smiled. ”Father is a man of faith. That's why he can sleep on a night like this. He prayed for an hour or more this morning, just like every morning, while you were still snoring. He prayed for you by name, in fact, Marvin. I heard him. Father's been praying all day. And now he's resting in the mercy of the living G.o.d.”

Marvin looked back at the rising water. ”Aw, forget it,” he said and stalked back toward his sleeping quarters, his followers right behind him.

”I don't mean to discourage your praying,” Aidan called behind him.

Marvin waved a hand behind him. ”It ain't working anyway.”

In the morning a gray light filtered up the tunnels, but the roar of the waterfall in the main chamber continued as strong as ever. The water had climbed farther up the tunnel in the dark hours of the morning. Were it to rise another foot, it would flood the sleeping chambers and spoil the foodstuffs in the storage room.

The men were restacking bags of flour against that possibility when they noticed the waterfall's roar had lessened. The rain had stopped, and it was only a matter of minutes before most of the surface water funneling into the crevice had run its course. The water in the tunnel began to recede and the waterfall, while still much stronger than a trickle, was nothing like the torrent that had thundered all night long.

In less than an hour, the water was gone from the tunnels. By the time another half hour had pa.s.sed, the water coursing along the crevice floor had subsided enough for the men to step out into the suns.h.i.+ne that flooded the floor of the main chamber. Everyone was safe. All thirteen miners, nine hunters, twelve soldiers, six field hands, seven n.o.blemen, and, of course, the fifteen men in the Errolsons' tunnel were accounted for. The men offered up prayers of praise and thanksgiving.

The stream in the main canyon was still raging-a muddy, milky, reddish torrent. From the markings on the canyon walls, it was obvious the water had already fallen several feet.

”If the rain don't come back-and it don't look like it will-this creek'll be within a foot of normal by this afternoon,” Gustus observed. ”And we can start work on the main chamber.”

The pounding water had dug a broad bowl in the soft dirt of the crevice floor. Even when the last of the surface water had flowed through and out to the main channel, a little pond, a foot and a half deep, would remain in the chamber to grow stagnant and breed mosquitoes if the men didn't do something about it.

The miners fell to the work with great enthusiasm-digging and grading, filling and sc.r.a.ping. They were proud of their work, proud of their expertise, proud when their comrades said they didn't know what they would do without them, because they knew it was true. That feeling of being indispensable wasn't one they got very often when they were toiling in the mines at Greasy Cave. In their workaday world, amid the dangers they faced daily in the mines, they felt very dispensable. The fact that they mostly looked alike-short, stocky, bearded-only added to the sense of interchangeability. Everybody in Greasy Cave could swing a pickax, and if a miner didn't show up at the mines one day, the boss would surely find somebody else who would, and he would never miss a lick.

But here in Sinking Canyons, the Greasy Cave boys were heroes, just as they had been at Bonifay. Their tunnels had saved the lives of their comrades. Now they were in charge of the cleanup, organizing the others (civilians, as they had come to think of non-miners) into bucket brigades and telling them what to do and how to do it.

The others were happy to follow the miners' leaders.h.i.+p-most of them anyway. Marvin and his gang grumbled all afternoon and dropped their buckets on every other pa.s.s and sometimes wandered off from the work a half hour at a time.

After a cold and early supper, Gustus announced, ”Boys, we still got a couple hours' daylight left. What say we finish up this job so we don't have to fool with it tomorrow?”

Everyone's back was aching from the day's work. But the men did like the idea of not having to return to the work a second day, so they stood, stretched, and prepared to go back to the bucket brigade.

They all stopped, however, at the booming voice of Marvin echoing on the canyon walls. ”Some band of outlaws this is!” He threw his head back and laughed. ”Toting buckets of sand! Getting bossed by a bunch of miners!” He pointed a finger at the miners gathered around Gustus. ”I've took all the orders I aim to take from a bunch of stoop-backed gravel scratchers.”

Ernest gave it back to Marvin. ”I didn't hear no complaints about gravel scratchers when you was safe and dry last night in the tunnels we dug!”

Marvin waved at the air as if swatting away a bothersome fly. The rest of the miners now stepped up beside Ernest, across from Marvin's gang, who fanned out to face them. The miners gripped their pickaxes and shovels. From the looks on their faces, it appeared they were ready to use them.

But Errol and his four sons stepped into the corridor between the two lines of men. The old man stood mere inches away from Marvin. The purple vein had appeared on his forehead. He spoke calmly but with unquestionable authority. ”No one is keeping you here, Marvin. Leave anytime you wish. But if you mean to use our shelter and eat our food, you will join us in our work.”

Marvin snorted. ”It'll be dark in an hour. The water's still high. We can't leave now.”

Errol grabbed a bucket from one of the miners and shoved it into Marvin's belly. ”Then get to work,” he ordered, stalking off to join the bucket brigade himself.

Chapter Thirteen.

A Discovery Aidan lay awake most of that night, half-expecting trouble from Marvin and his boys. He finally fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn, and when he awoke, Marvin's gang was gone. Cooky had seen the group leave while he was trying to light the breakfast fire in the predawn darkness.

Never had a day seemed fresher. Marvin's departure was like a shadow lifting. The morning sun glistened off the stream, now only a little higher than normal. The birds that had spent the previous day drying out sang joyously in celebration of the new day.

After breakfast Aidan joined Jasper on a walk down the canyon. ”The canyon changes after every rainstorm,” Jasper explained. ”And the storm we just had was the biggest one we've had since we've been here. Look, this is what I'm talking about.” He pointed at a spot where the water flowed over flat sand.

”Looks like any other spot on the canyon floor,” Aidan said, not sure what point Jasper was making.

”But it didn't two days ago,” Jasper said. ”This was the wash hole. Remember those two willow trees right there? The ones where we always hang clothes to dry?”

”You're right,” Aidan said, looking at the two big trees, then back down at the stream. ”But that was a pretty big pool.”

”Took the miners most of a week to dig it,” Jasper agreed. ”But it probably took only a few minutes for the flood to fill it back in.” He pointed up the canyon. ”The sand and clay that washed down the stream and probably some from up there at the canyon rim got dumped into the pool here until it filled up.”

Jasper pointed at a smooth mound across the way. ”Remember the tower that used to stand there? It must have crumbled away and washed downstream.”

”Amazing,” Aidan said. ”So the storm tears down the high spots and fills in the low spots?”