Constance nodded enthusiastically. She seemed both grateful and relieved by the suggestion. She also seemed more like a three-year-old than Reynie had ever seen her — so vulnerable and hopeful and scared — and now it was his turn to be touched.
Before they had taken twenty paces, Kate caught up with them. “Milligan wants you to stay in sight,” she said. “I told him I doubted you intended to wander off and have a tea party, but he didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Tell him we’re going to the bay for a swim,” Constance said, rolling her eyes.
Kate snorted. “Funny! I
“Kate sure is in a good mood,” Reynie reflected.
“I know,” said Constance, “and it’s very annoying.”
Indeed, Kate was feeling as buoyant and cheerful as she had in a long time. She found it thrilling to see her father do his job — even when it consisted only of watching the sky, as Milligan was doing now — and to be part of a rescue mission which, in her view, could do nothing but succeed.
“You know,” she said to Sticky as they waited, “hearing you translate that Morse code reminded me of our time at the Institute. I never could get over how fast you did that.” She chuckled. “I miss those days, don’t you? I mean, except for the terrible parts.”
Sticky grinned and nodded. He was inclined to feel nostalgic for any time other than this one (he much preferred having been frightened
Kate laughed and gave him an affectionate rub on his bald head — only to jerk her hand back as if she’d pricked it on a thorn. “Youch! You’ve got some sharp stubble up there, pal!”
Sticky shrugged, still grinning. “Sorry. Hair grows, you know.”
“That’s what Milligan always says,” Kate muttered. “And he wonders why I never want to kiss his cheek.”
When Reynie and Constance had returned from their task, Milligan told everyone to get ready. It still wasn’t dark enough to satisfy him, but it wasn’t going to get any darker — a full moon was rising in the east and there were no clouds. And so, having again impressed upon them the need for both silence and speed, Milligan led the children out onto the plain. To limit their time in the open, they set off at a very brisk pace. For Milligan this amounted to a trot, but for the boys it was a sprint, and Milligan carried first one boy and then the other, trading off whenever the one running got too winded. Kate ran the whole distance with Constance on her back. It was a strenuous business indeed, and even if Milligan hadn’t forbidden conversation, Kate could never have managed a word.
For a time the mountains seemed to draw no closer, and when at last they did it seemed by inches rather than yards, but eventually, finally, the runners reached the place where the land began to rise skyward. The tunnel entrance lay at the bottom of the middlemost mountain, and they had no difficulty finding it. In the moonlight the round black opening was visible from some distance — it looked like a mouse hole at the base of a gigantic cupboard — and Milligan led them straight for it. When at last they came close (but not too close), he ordered them to stay put while he scouted ahead. The children dropped to the rocky ground — everyone but Constance was gasping for breath — and Milligan vanished into the blackness of the tunnel, his footsteps making scarcely a sound.
“All clear,” he said when he returned. “The tunnel’s narrow, so we’ll walk single-file. Here, Constance, I’ll carry you, and you can carry my flashlight.”
“But I don’t
“Never mind. I’ll carry it.”
Milligan marched ahead with Constance on his back and the others close behind. The rock walls and floor of the tunnel were damp and uneven, and it was indeed narrow. It appeared to have been carved by the passage of an ancient underground stream, though in places it had obviously been widened with chisels and hammers. Reynie imagined the villagers had used it as the quickest passage to the eastern part of the island. These mountains weren’t very big — in fact, for mountains they were rather modest — but it would still take hours to hike over them or go around. The tunnel, on the other hand, passed straight through on more or less level ground, and in twenty minutes Reynie was following Milligan out into open air.
They had emerged near the foot of the mountain, yet high enough on its slope to be afforded a good view of the western half of the island — or what would have been a good view had the moon risen over the mountains yet. Even in the gloom, however, they could make out the woodland just down the slope and to the right, and along its near edge the abandoned village — two rows of dilapidated buildings ranging along either side of a broad path. The village reminded Reynie of the frontier towns he’d seen in old Westerns, or at least the main street of such towns, for it had no side roads or outlying structures but was one long, straight shot that ended as abruptly as it began. Milligan scanned the buildings and the surrounding area with his spyglass. He listened carefully. Then he led the children down the slope into the village.
Milligan didn’t need to warn them to stay together. The old, rotting structures of the village would probably have seemed lonesome and sad in the daytime, but at night they seemed positively spectral. A great many leaned precariously to the east, buffeted as they had been by decades of westerly wind, and three or four had seen their roofs carried off by storms. The roofs all lay to the east of their former homes — vine-covered piles of disintegrating beams and rotten wood shingles.
Milligan and the children moved down the path, looking left and right but also at their feet, for the path — though it might once have passed for a road — was rutted and overgrown now and offered poor footing. In silence they passed building after building, all with dark windows and dark doorways.
About halfway down the path they came upon the village well. As with some of the buildings, the well’s roof had blown free in a storm — it lay off in a tangle of weeds, far from the barren posts that used to support it — and the rusty winch that was once suspended over the well’s mouth had fallen aside, still tethered to a forlorn wooden bucket with its bottom long since rotted out.
“What a shame,” Kate murmured, for it clearly used to be an excellent bucket.
At a word from Milligan, the group huddled together near the well to discuss what to do. There were no signs, no indications anywhere that a human had passed this way in years. If Mr. Benedict had left supplies as his
