The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure StoryGoodwin, Harold L. (Harold Leland)
Science
The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story
Goodwin, Harold L. (Harold Leland)
Detective and mystery stories; Scientists -- Juvenile fiction
But looking at the food reminded him that he hadn't eaten in a long
time. He didn't know if it was hours, or days. He had lost all track of
time. He took the can key and unwound the narrow sealing strip on a
container of cheese. It tasted wonderful. He devoured every bit of it,
including the crumbs left in the can. Then he opened a can of meat and
ate that, too. He had been sipping at his canteen at various times, but
it was still more than half full. He detached the canteen cup and filled
it from the lake, tasting it cautiously. The water had a flat taste,
like boiled water, but it was all right. He drank deeply, then filled
the canteen.
His hunger and thirst satisfied, he surveyed the various openings around
him, then chose the one nearest the corner he wished to get around. At
the very entrance, he placed the empty cheese tin. Inside the cave, he
turned to be sure it was clearly visible, then walked across to an
opening that seemed likely to lead him in the right direction. He placed
the second can at that opening and went into the passage formed by a
series of stalagmite columns. It was a dead end. He returned to the cave
where he had left the cans, picked up the empty meat can, and tried
another entry.
He was completely calm now. He knew that humans, even though enemies,
were not far away. And he was quite sure that his friends were all
right. They would take steps to leave a trail so they would not get lost
as he had done.
The second passage was better. He wound in and out through the limestone
formations, leaving a trail of broken cracker crumbs. Every now and then
he turned to see that the trail was plain. He grinned. Hadn't he read a
story when he was a kid about some children who had left a trail of
crumbs only to have the birds eat them?
No danger of that here. No self-respecting bird would get near the
place.
It wasn't long before he ran out of crumbs. Then he tore his
handkerchief into tiny bits and used that. When he reached the end of
the cloth scraps, he sat down to rest, turning off the infrared light
while he carefully shredded a big piece of his shirttail.
As his eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness, he saw the yellow light
again, only stronger this time! Carefully, his heart beating excitedly,
he turned the infrared light in the direction of the yellow glow and
switched it on. Before him was a big opening in the limestone. He
surveyed the floor carefully and saw that there was nothing over which
to trip. He turned off the infrared light, and, leaving a trail of torn
cloth behind him, he crawled toward the source of the light.
He came out on the shore of the lake once more. Before him stretched the
black water, the yellow light dancing across its surface. And the source
of the light was not from candles, but from torches!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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