to my feet and started down the passage. "Wonder where this goes..."
"Do you think it's safe?" asked Natalie.
"No," I said. "But if we wanted safe, we should've become cheese testers. Come on."
Carefully, we crept onward, hugging the wall. The tunnel was quieter than a king snake in a snowbank. Before long, we reached another ladder, which led up to a trapdoor.
Muffled voices and crowlike squawks drifted through the floor.
"The office," I whispered. Natalie nodded.
We resumed our trek through the tunnel. It began sloping downward, and the farther we went, the
colder it got. Two smaller tunnels fed into it from the left, but we stuck with the main passage.
"Just think of all the burrowing it took," said Natalie. "That's a lot of earth to move."
I grinned. "I can dig it."
She groaned. "This explains all the dirt piles around the playground."
Natalie brushed the wall with a wing tip as we walked down, down, down. "Must have taken more than just one bad guy to do all this burrowing."
"Unless we're talking about one monster-sized earthworm," I said.
"Mmm," said Natalie dreamily. "Giant worms."
But I didn't get the chance to hear about her food fantasies. Because just then, we rounded a bend in the tunnel and saw its destination.
"Holy mole, Batman," breathed Natalie.
"You ain't a-woofin', sister," I said.
The tunnel ended at the lip of a crater. Stretching below and above was a huge cavern, lit with spotlights and dangling Christmas bulbs. Somewhere nearby, a generator rumbled.
"This explains the extra-high electricity bill," I said.
Small, round doors studded the sides of the cavern, all around. And way out in the middle, a huge earthen throne arose.
"Look!" said Natalie.
Kids labored below us, lugging buckets. I spotted Popper, Bo Newt, and about a dozen other students, all handcuffed to a ladder and dragging it by their ankles.
"This is either Santa's dirt workshop," I said, "or the winter palace of the Worm King."
"Wrong on both counts, peeper," growled a familiar voice.
And up over the lip of the cavern crawled Erik Nidd.
15. The Hole Thing
"Erik!" I said, backing up. "I never figured you for a tunnel spider."
His fangs glistened in a wicked smile. "Ya never figured on a lot, shamus."
Natalie and I edged back into the tunnel as Erik, the rat Kurt Replie, the ferret Bosco Rebbizi, and our old friend the eggplant-nosed mole climbed up onto our level. My tail bumped against some empty buckets.
"
You're
behind it all?" I said to the tarantula."The stealing, the burningâ"
"The cave-in," said Natalie.
"
That
was a mistake," snapped Eggplant Nose. "
Somebody
didn't follow my digging instructions."
Bosco waved a finger at the mole. "And
somebody
forgot that I'm a ferret, not a prairie dog."
"So
you're
behind it all?" I asked Eggplant Nose, slipping my tail through the bucket handles.
"Pal, you are
way
too curious," he said. "That's gonna land you in real trouble one of these days."
I gave him a friendly grin. "Like now?" In a flash, I whipped my tail and slung the buckets straight into the thugs.
The Stinkers staggered back, disoriented.
Natalie and I whirled around and beat feet.
"Snatch 'em, boys!" cried the mole.
The gang gave a yell. Footsteps thundered behind us.
We pounded up the passageway with the bullies in hot pursuit. Round the twists and turns we went, higher and higher. Somehow, we carved out a lead.
But the tunnel was a lot trickier going uphill. My legs grew heavier than a cheater's conscience. My lungs burned. Soon I was panting like a black dog on a summer day.
Natalie and I rounded a corner. The first side passage lay just ahead, and the Stinkers were still out of sight.
"Quick!" I hissed. "In here!"
I took off my hat and flung it farther up the main tunnel. Then we dove into the smaller passage and scrambled up it.
Natalie and I pressed ourselves to the wall. I tried to quiet my steam-train breathing and slow my drum-soloing heart.
Behind us, muffled voices
"Do you think it's safe?" asked Natalie.
"No," I said. "But if we wanted safe, we should've become cheese testers. Come on."
Carefully, we crept onward, hugging the wall. The tunnel was quieter than a king snake in a snowbank. Before long, we reached another ladder, which led up to a trapdoor.
Muffled voices and crowlike squawks drifted through the floor.
"The office," I whispered. Natalie nodded.
We resumed our trek through the tunnel. It began sloping downward, and the farther we went, the
colder it got. Two smaller tunnels fed into it from the left, but we stuck with the main passage.
"Just think of all the burrowing it took," said Natalie. "That's a lot of earth to move."
I grinned. "I can dig it."
She groaned. "This explains all the dirt piles around the playground."
Natalie brushed the wall with a wing tip as we walked down, down, down. "Must have taken more than just one bad guy to do all this burrowing."
"Unless we're talking about one monster-sized earthworm," I said.
"Mmm," said Natalie dreamily. "Giant worms."
But I didn't get the chance to hear about her food fantasies. Because just then, we rounded a bend in the tunnel and saw its destination.
"Holy mole, Batman," breathed Natalie.
"You ain't a-woofin', sister," I said.
The tunnel ended at the lip of a crater. Stretching below and above was a huge cavern, lit with spotlights and dangling Christmas bulbs. Somewhere nearby, a generator rumbled.
"This explains the extra-high electricity bill," I said.
Small, round doors studded the sides of the cavern, all around. And way out in the middle, a huge earthen throne arose.
"Look!" said Natalie.
Kids labored below us, lugging buckets. I spotted Popper, Bo Newt, and about a dozen other students, all handcuffed to a ladder and dragging it by their ankles.
"This is either Santa's dirt workshop," I said, "or the winter palace of the Worm King."
"Wrong on both counts, peeper," growled a familiar voice.
And up over the lip of the cavern crawled Erik Nidd.
15. The Hole Thing
"Erik!" I said, backing up. "I never figured you for a tunnel spider."
His fangs glistened in a wicked smile. "Ya never figured on a lot, shamus."
Natalie and I edged back into the tunnel as Erik, the rat Kurt Replie, the ferret Bosco Rebbizi, and our old friend the eggplant-nosed mole climbed up onto our level. My tail bumped against some empty buckets.
"
You're
behind it all?" I said to the tarantula."The stealing, the burningâ"
"The cave-in," said Natalie.
"
That
was a mistake," snapped Eggplant Nose. "
Somebody
didn't follow my digging instructions."
Bosco waved a finger at the mole. "And
somebody
forgot that I'm a ferret, not a prairie dog."
"So
you're
behind it all?" I asked Eggplant Nose, slipping my tail through the bucket handles.
"Pal, you are
way
too curious," he said. "That's gonna land you in real trouble one of these days."
I gave him a friendly grin. "Like now?" In a flash, I whipped my tail and slung the buckets straight into the thugs.
The Stinkers staggered back, disoriented.
Natalie and I whirled around and beat feet.
"Snatch 'em, boys!" cried the mole.
The gang gave a yell. Footsteps thundered behind us.
We pounded up the passageway with the bullies in hot pursuit. Round the twists and turns we went, higher and higher. Somehow, we carved out a lead.
But the tunnel was a lot trickier going uphill. My legs grew heavier than a cheater's conscience. My lungs burned. Soon I was panting like a black dog on a summer day.
Natalie and I rounded a corner. The first side passage lay just ahead, and the Stinkers were still out of sight.
"Quick!" I hissed. "In here!"
I took off my hat and flung it farther up the main tunnel. Then we dove into the smaller passage and scrambled up it.
Natalie and I pressed ourselves to the wall. I tried to quiet my steam-train breathing and slow my drum-soloing heart.
Behind us, muffled voices
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