Class Trip to the Cave of Doom (5 page)

“Dudwin,” Wiglaf answered. “My brother.”

“Why in the name of King Ken’s britches is your big brother here?” Mordred barked.

“He’s my
little
brother,” Wiglaf said. “But, sir! We have found Seetha’s hiding spot. Somewhere inside this cave is her gold.”

Wiglaf had said the magic word: gold.

Mordred jumped down from his chair. “Oh, joy!” he cried. “Oh, happy day! Come! I shall lead you into the cave myself!”

Mordred took a step toward the dark mouth of the cave. Then he stopped.

“On second thought,” he said, “I shall
follow
you Bloodhounds into the cave. That way I can make sure nothing sneaks up on you from behind.” Mordred pointed at Dudwin. “You with the torch!” he said. “Lead the way!”

“To the treasure!” Dudwin yelled. And he ran into the cave.

Wiglaf, Erica, and Angus hurried after him.

The torchlight threw tall shadows onto the stony walls. High above Wiglaf’s head long, thin stalactites hung down from the ceiling. There were hundreds of them. They looked like stone fangs!

“Don’t dawdle!” Mordred called from behind. “Do you see any sign of the gold?”

“Not yet, sir!” Erica called back.

Suddenly Dudwin tripped. The torch flew from his hand as he fell.

Wiglaf reached down to help him up. As he picked up the torch, he saw that his brother had fallen over a pile of white shapes. It took him a moment to understand what they were.

“B-b-b-bones!” Wiglaf cried.

“Bones?” Angus screamed. He took off for the mouth of the cave.

“Oof!” Mordred grunted as his nephew ran into him. He grabbed Angus’s arm.

“Let go!” Angus cried. “I’m out of here!”

“Are you mad?” Mordred roared. “We’re so close to Seetha’s gold, I can almost smell it!”

“I think that smell is dried bat droppings, sir,” Erica offered.

“Whatever,” Mordred said. He turned Angus around. “Onward!”

“Whose bones are they, Wiggie?” Dudwin asked as they began inching forward.

“Some big animal probably died here long ago,” Wiglaf said. He hoped it was true.

“I want to keep some,” Dudwin said. He began picking up bones.

“What’s the holdup?” Mordred yelled from the back of the line. “Go! Go! Go!”

“What’s this?” Erica said. She bent down. But instead of a bone, she picked up a hat.

Wiglaf stared at the thing in Erica’s hand. “What is stuck in that hat?” he asked.

“Looks like a red-and-white striped turkey feather,” Erica answered. “And it is the prettiest darn feather I ever did see.”

“This must be Crazy Looey’s hat!” Wiglaf cried. “And these bones! They must be the bones of his seven brave men!”

“Move!” Mordred called. “Moooove!”

“We are doomed!” Angus howled.

“I’m too young to get doomed!” Dudwin cried. The torchlight wavered as his hand began to shake. “I want to go back, Wiggie!”

“Be brave, Dudwin,” Wiglaf whispered. “You are a Bloodhound now. And Bloodhounds never turn back. Besides,” he added, “Mordred won’t let you turn back.”

Wiglaf untied his lucky rag from his sword.

“Here, Dudwin,” he said, handing it to him. “This has always brought me luck. I am sure it will keep you from being doomed.”

“Thanks, Wiggie.” Dudwin sniffed. He held the rag tightly as he began walking again.

Erica started singing in a shaky voice:
“We’re the mighty Bloodhounds
...
We’re dogged and we’re bold...
”

The others joined in. Their voices echoed as they walked toward a faint yellow glow far back in the cave. They followed Dudwin through a passageway. They came out in a big open space lit by a strange, yellow light.

Wiglaf blinked. And then he saw before him a life-sized statue of Seetha! Her wings were spread. Her tail was curled around a giant stone bowl. And piled high in the bowl were bright, shining golden coins!

Mordred pushed past Wiglaf. “Gold!” he cried. Tears of joy sprang to his eyes. “A mountain of gold! And it all belongs to ME!”

 

 

“D
on’t start counting your gold yet, sir!” Wiglaf said. “Look! Seetha has left us a message on the wall!” And he began to read what had been scratched in stone:

 

If I die, I. Seetha von Flambé, leave all my gold to my 3.683 children. To anyone else who finds my gold-anyone who is NOT one of my beautiful children-I leave this warning:

“I’m scared!” Dudwin cried.

“Me, too!” Angus said.

Wiglaf started shaking.

Even Erica looked scared.

“Don’t be such sausages!” Mordred cried. “What else would a dragon say? ‘Go ahead. Help yourself to all my gold!’ I don’t think so!”

“Please Uncle Mordred!” Angus fell to his knees. “Let’s get out of here! I beg you! Seetha may be dead. But she means business!”

“Fiddlesticks!” Mordred barked. “Stop stalling, all of you! Go get my gold!”

Then, to Wiglaf’s horror, Dudwin spoke up. “You’re the one who wants the gold,” he told Mordred. “So why don’t you get it yourself?”

“What?” roared Mordred. “Me? Don’t you know why boys were invented? So grown-ups never have to do anything they don’t want to! Now,
go get my gold!”

The Bloodhounds stayed close together. They inched toward the bowl of treasure.

“Okay,” said Erica when they reached it. “Who shall take the first coin from the pile?”

Wiglaf swallowed. Here was a chance for him to do a brave deed. Besides, if taking a coin set off a booby trap, what did it matter who took it? They were all goners.

“I’ll do it,” Wiglaf said. He drew a breath. Slowly he slid a coin from the pile. He waited for the smoke and fire.

But nothing happened.

Mordred cried, “What did I tell you, boys? Seetha’s warning was pure poppycock!”

Then Wiglaf heard a low rumble.

“Is that your stomach?” he asked Erica.

“No,” she said. “I thought it was yours.”

The rumbling grew louder.

“Ohhh!” howled Angus. “It’s doom time!”

Wiglaf swallowed. He quickly tossed the coin back onto the pile of gold.

Too late!

The rumbling thundered louder. Then the gold in the big stone bowl started to spin around and around. It quickly picked up speed. The coins circled the bowl faster and faster. Then, as if someone had pulled a plug at the bottom of the bowl, the coins began to disappear down a hole.
SLUUUUUURP!

“What’s happening?” Mordred cried.

“The gold is going down some kind of drain!” Angus answered.

“WHAT?” Mordred screamed. And he started running toward the stone dragon.

The Bloodhounds jumped out of the way as the headmaster took a flying leap into the bowl. He slid down, grabbing for the coins.

There was a final SLURP! Then it was still.

“All is not lost!” Mordred cried happily. “I have a great big handful of gold!”

Mordred tried to pull his arm out. But his fist, full of coins, was stuck in the hole.

“Help me, lads!” Mordred cried.

The Bloodhounds held onto Mordred’s boots. They pulled with all their might. At last ...
POP!
Off came the boots.

“You ninnies!” Mordred cried. “Pull
me!”

The Bloodhounds grabbed Mordred’s feet. They pulled as hard as they could. But his fist stayed stuck.

“Stop,” Mordred cried at last. “Leave me here, boys. Carry on at DSA as best you can without me. It won’t be easy. But you must try!”

“But Uncle Mor—” Angus began.

“No, nephew,” Mordred said. “Do not try to comfort me. My death will be slow. Slow and very terrible. But I shall be brave and—”

“Sir?” Erica cut in.

“Quiet!” Mordred snapped. “As I was saying, I shall be brave. And so it is fitting that one of the DSA towers be named for me. The north one, I think. Mordred’s Tower. That has a nice ring to it.”

“You don’t have to die here, sir!” Wiglaf said. “You
can
save yourself!”

“Blazing King Ken’s britches!” Mordred cried. “Are you going to pester me to death? Well, tell me, boy. How can I save myself?”

And Wiglaf said, “Let go of the gold.”

“Let go?” Mordred looked puzzled.

“Yes, Uncle!” Angus answered. “Then your hand can slide out of the hole.”

Mordred frowned. “You cannot mean I should give up the gold? No. Never.”

Wiglaf turned to Erica. “We have to get out of here!” he said. “What shall we do?”

“I don’t know,” Erica said. “But Sir Lancelot will.” She yanked
The Sir Lancelot Handbook
from her belt. She began turning pages. “Ah ha!” she cried happily. “Here, under ‘Emergencies.’” She began to read aloud:
“Emergency #54: Is there a great big greedy man whose hand is stuck down a hole because he won’t let go of a fist full of gold coins?”

“Yes!” cried Angus. “Yes! That’s it exactly!”

“If the great big greedy man doesn’t hurry
up
and let go,” Erica read on, “are you in danger of being doomed?”

“Yes!” Angus cried. “Right again!”

Erica read on.
“When all else fails...”
She turned the page.
”...try tickling!”

“Oh, boy!” Dudwin cried.

Then all four Bloodhounds jumped on Mordred.

“Stop!” cried Mordred. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, sir,” Erica said. She was tickling his belly. “But it’s for your own good.”

“Hoo-hoo!” Mordred howled. “Oh! Stop!”

No one stopped. Angus tickled Mordred’s left foot. Wiglaf did the same to his right. Dudwin chucked him under the chin.

Mordred wiggled and giggled. He kicked and screamed, “Have mercy!”

But the Bloodhounds kept on. At last Wiglaf heard
Clink! Clink! Clink!
as the coins fell from Mordred’s fist.

“It worked!” he cried.

“Of course it did!” Erica exclaimed. “Sir Lancelot has never let me down!”

“Noooo!” Mordred sobbed as his hand—his empty hand—popped out of the hole. He pushed away the ticklers. His eyes glowed with red-hot fury.

“Trick
me
out of my gold, will you?” he cried. He pulled on his boots. “Wait till I get my hands on you!”

“But, sir!” Erica said. “We couldn’t leave you here to die!”

“Don’t argue with him!” Wiglaf said. “Let’s go!”

“Wait!” Dudwin yelled. “I spy treasure!”

“Treasure?” Mordred cried. “Where?”

Dudwin pushed the torch into Wiglaf’s hand. Then he started climbing up the dragon statue.

“Stop!” Wiglaf cried. “Dudwin! Come back down!”

But Dudwin kept climbing. And now Wiglaf saw why. Between its stone teeth, the dragon statue held one last gold coin.

Mordred’s eyes lit up as he saw it, too. He lunged for the statue.

“There is just one coin, boy!” the headmaster roared. “Just one! And it’s mine!”

One coin. Just one.
Seetha’s warning rang inside Wiglaf’s head.

Now Wiglaf understood. Seetha’s warning was about one coin—just one! And suddenly he knew that the warning wasn’t poppycock at all.

“Don’t touch that coin!” Wiglaf yelled to the climbers. “Don’t touch it!”

Too late! Mordred had already snatched the coin from between the dragon’s teeth.

“Ha ha!” he cried. “I got it first! I got-”

Mordred got no further.

A flame shot from the statue’s mouth.

“Yowie!” Mordred cried. He jumped down.

Dudwin jumped down, too.

Smoke began to pour from the stone dragon’s nose. More flames shot from between its jaws. The cave walls began to shake.

THWUNK!
A stalactite dropped from the ceiling.

Wiglaf stared at the quivering stone spear in front of him. It had missed him by inches!

THWUNK!
Another dropped beside him.

THWUNK!
And another!

And then, just as Seetha had warned, hundreds of stone spears began raining down.

“Help!” cried Angus. “We’re doomed!”

 

 

W
iglaf grabbed Dudwin’s hand. He ran through the smoke, pulling his brother with him.

THWUNK!
A stalactite landed right behind them.

Wiglaf dropped the torch. It hit the cave floor and sputtered out. The cave was dark now. And filled with smoke. Wiglaf could hardly breathe. But he kept going. Far off, he thought he saw light. The mouth of the cave!