Undergardeners by Desmond Ellis Read Free Book Online Page A

ground.
    The mice dragged him to where the little man was bumbling around, coughing. Mouse grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. “Okay, find the way, quickly,” he called down to the deer mice. Mouse went where they pulled him, hoping they knew where they were going because he was completely disoriented and almost out of air.
    To his great relief, the smoke began to lessen and they were soon free of the smothering clouds altogether. The deer mice let go of his pajamas and ran ahead, taking gasping drags of clean air into their little lungs. Spluttering and coughing, Mouse staggered a short distance from the cave before he put down his two passengers and wiped his smarting eyes on his sleeve. After a moment, his rasping breath eased and his eyes cleared. Smoke continued to pour from the Rhymer’s cave. They’d have to do something about that fire. “Any water here?” Mouse asked Alkus breathlessly.
    â€œNo water.” Alkus shook her head.
    â€œDigger!” Mouse exclaimed as a solution occurred to him.
    â€œDigger?” said Chuck.
    â€œYou want to throw Digger on the fire?” asked an incredulous Podge. “’Pon my word. What a novel idea.” He ran his front paws one after the other down his long snout as though he was trying to make it even longer.
    â€œNo, no. Get him to throw earth on the flames by digging as fast as he can.”
    â€œRight!” said Alkus, flinging aside her shoulder bag. “Hop to it!”
    â€œSuper…
    â€¦dooper!” squealed the deer mice, with hardly a cough between them.
    â€œGet him primed!” blared Podge.
    The bewildered Mole was hoisted and carried face down and hind feet forward to the entrance of the Rhymer’s cave. A trail of spectacles from his many pockets littered the ground in his wake as they hauled him into position.
    â€œDig!” ordered Alkus.
    Digger began doing just that. His front paws scrabbled at the ground so rapidly that they were a blur as they shoveled the flame-smothering earth backward toward the fire. Everyone joined in now, flinging the loosened earth into the cave using hands, feet, Alkus’s clipboard, pieces of planking—whatever they could find to smother the burning papers.
    It was hard and sweaty work, but finally they succeeded; the flames died away and the smoke became a trickle. The fire was out. Puffing and panting, the smudged friends all smiled with relief and, when they got their breath back, let out a cheer that reverberated through the tunnel.
    Then, “Hurray for Mouse,” somebody shouted, and another cheer went up.
    â€œHurray for Snick and Snock,” said Mouse, and they all cheered again. The deer mice looked at each other shyly, silent for once. Alkus chuckled and, reaching down, scratched the deer mice on the tops of their heads before she and Qwolsh went into the cave to check on the extent of the damage.
    Mouse looked at those he had pulled from the smoke. The tortoise hadn’t budged; he remained tucked inside his armored home, black holes where the legs and head should be. The Rhymer appeared to be totally unmoved by the danger he had been in. There was a faraway look in his eyes, and as Mouse watched him curiously, the huge eyebrows started to twitch and his lips began to move. Another poem, Mouse supposed. The Rhymer kept repeating the same line over and over. As if the verse he was trying to write was a car that would eventually start if it was pushed hard enough. “From the wise man’s home came the billowing smoke…From the wise man’s home came the billowing smoke…Came the billowing smoke. What rhymes with smoke?” the Rhymer asked of nobody in particular.
    â€œChoke,” said Mouse with a cough.
    â€œYes, yes indeed,” nodded the Rhymer, throwing his head back and scratching beneath his chin to help himself think better. “Choke…Choke…Great wobbling wordsmiths!” he