The steps were cold on Mouse’s bare feet, and the air smelt musty. If this is a dream, he thought, it’s a very realistic one. On the other hand, if it’s not a dream, what am I doing here? Mind you, if it’s not a dream, it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. Wait till I tell… What am I saying? I promised not to tell anyone. His mood swung between cowardice and courage, dread and delight, as his thoughts chased each other frantically. If it’s a dream I’m going to enjoy it. If it’s not a dream…He took a deep decisive breath. I’m going to enjoy it even more. He swung his arm in a defiant gesture and struck something fleshy.
“Ouch!” The voice sounded like Qwolsh’s. “Careful, or you’ll put someone’s eye out.”
“Sorry,” Mouse apologized, stepped back and heard the deer mice scurry out of the way.
“And watch…
…where you’re putting…
…your feet.”
“Stand still,” ordered Alkus, “till the lights come on.”
The Undergardeners hummed and the darkness lessened slightly. Mouse began to make out their silhouettes. The place grew brighter and brighter. He could now make out the underside of the stone entrance and the stone steps that headed down into darkness.
“You did that with the humming?” asked an amazed Mouse.
“Did what?” said Alkus.
“The lights, the lights,” answered Mouse.
“You sound like…
…the fireflies,” chortled Snick and Snock. “De-lights!…
…De-lights!” They imitated the fluttery, high-pitched voices.
“If we was to leave it to the youngsters of today, we wouldn’t even have lights,” muttered Glump. “Don’t want to learn nothing.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of Snick and Snock as he went away down the steps, muttering to himself. “Not like in my day. We was happy to do whatever had to be done. No time off for floods and soggy muck. If it needed doing, it needed doing now. Real stick-in-the-muds we were and proud of it. Lost some of my best boots and tools in that same mud, but did that stop us? Never! On we squelched, bootless and toolless, man and ruddy, soggy boy till we dropped. We could habe dilor fast ald…” The words became unintelligible as Glump went farther down the steps until the darkness swallowed him.
“Glump does go on a bit sometimes,” said Alkus. “Anyway, you wanted to know about the lights. We control them by humming at the required pitch.”
Mouse was intrigued. “Could I try?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, Mouse,” Alkus said firmly. “The machinery here is very sensitive and its control is very precise. So just leave it to us, all right?”
“Pitch right, world bright—off by a fraction, end up in traction,” said Qwolsh.
“Traction?” echoed Mouse.
Alkus explained, “It’s just a saying we have. For safety’s sake, you have to be very accurate. Many things down here are controlled by sound frequencies—the stone at the top of the steps, for example. Each is tuned to its own specific note, so…”
“Switch the pitch and you pitch a glitch,” said Qwolsh.
They started down the steep flight of steps. There wasn’t quite enough height for Mouse to stand up; he had to go down backward with his hands on the steps above for balance. He lost count of how many steps they had come down, but they were certainly well below ground level when they reached the bottom. More humming brought the lights up on a curved-walled, earthen tunnel stretching off into the distance. The tunnel was higher than Mouse expected, given the size of his companions; he had no trouble standing upright.
As they started along it, Alkus explained that many different-sized creatures traveled along the tunnels. “These are the main ones,” she said. “There are others higher up that would be much too small for you. There are even bigger ones lower down.”
The tunnel was very nearly round, and, standing in the center, Mouse could almost touch the walls on either side. The walls themselves were smooth, solidly packed earth.
Although he was paying great attention to his new surroundings, the operation of the lights was still in the back of his mind. It can’t be that difficult, he thought. I bet I could do it. He let the others get ahead. “Humnnnnn.” He closed his eyes and started to hum. He opened one eye, but nothing seemed to be happening to the lights.
“Who’s doing that?” Alkus wanted to know.
Mouse didn’t answer. Briefly there was silence, but then came an angry roar from close by, followed by other roars farther away. Openings appeared all along the tunnel walls as irate Undergardeners opened shutters and doors and popped their heads out, voices raised in anger.
“What is going on?”
“Who did that?”
“My dinner is ruined.”
Every opening framed an indignant face as creatures of all sorts glared out into the passageway, many waving spoons adrip with whatever they had been stirring. There were little people, weasels and badgers and rabbits, skunks and mink, moles and voles and gophers and mice and many others Mouse couldn’t name, all looking very angry indeed.
“Uh-oh!” Qwolsh clapped both hands to his cheeks with a resounding smack that echoed off the walls. “You silly wantwit, you’ve shut down all their ovens, haven’t you? Right in the middle of mainmeal.” Mouse gulped and attempted to rectify his mistake by humming with all his might. Frantically, the others tried to stop him, Digger spluttering like a balloon from which the air was rapidly escaping.
“By my feet and inches,” breathed Chuck.
“Now you’ve…
…gone and…
…done it!” squeaked Snick and Snock.
A distant wind approached, gathering force as it came. All along the tunnel walls, shutters and doors clattered as they opened and closed with the force of it. The dust began to swirl at their feet. Mouse stammered, “Wh…wh…what’s going on? What have I done now?” He turned to Alkus in consternation, only to see a huge grin on her face.
“Never mind, lad,” she laughed. “We can soon fix it.”
“You’ve turned on the extractor fans, that’s what you’ve done,” shouted Qwolsh above the clamor.
“Full blast too,” roared Alkus through her grin. With one hand she grabbed hold of Snick and with the other she caught Snock before the force of the gale blew the tiny deer mice down the tunnel. Supported by the wind, they now floated at the ends of Alkus’s outstretched arms. Snock (or was it Snick?) had grabbed the picnic basket and Snick (or Snock) was clinging to the tablecloth, which quivered and snapped like a flag in a gale. The white gloves they had placed in the basket suddenly seemed to come alive. Stretching to attention, they leaped out and disappeared down the tunnel, tumbling under and over, flapping and slapping at each other in a mad glove dance. Above the screech of the wind, Mouse became aware of a humming sound. It was his companions humming for all they were worth. Gradually the noise diminished and the wind died away as they succeeded in bringing the hurricane under control.
“Wheeee!” squealed Snick and Snock as they floated back to the ground.
“That was…
…wonder…
…ful.”
Mouse was horrified at what he had done. His mouth hung wide open and he was being very careful that no sound whatsoever came from it. Not so the mice, who were dancing around him, holding an end apiece of the tablecloth and chanting, “Do it…
…again, Mouse…
…do it…
…again.”
“No! No! No! Do no such thing,” growled Digger, who was scrambling about on all fours after his many pairs of spectacles
Chuck slowly raised his head from the earth floor where he had been holding on to a tree root with his teeth. Opening his eyes, he shook his head from side to side, saying to no one in particular, “Wow! What a…pthoo!…” He spat out some root, “…wind. Strongest we’ve ever had.” He started making notes in a small, battered-looking notebook from his tool bag. “The sum of the roots…pthoo!…” He spat out some more root. “…No! I mean the velocity. The sum of the velocity multiplied by the centrifugal force added to the direction of airflow minus two feet equals…equals…” Clearing his throat importantly, he stroked his chin. Finally he snapped the notebook shut. “Well, well,” he said weightily, “that was some wind.” He looked down modestly as everyone murmured respectfully.
Digger, putting away the last of his many pairs of spectacles, said, “Very impressive, very impressive.”
“What do you mean?” said Mouse, who liked things to be logical. “Minus two feet? Feet don’t have anything to do with it.”
“Of course they don’t, that’s why I’m subtracting them.” The groundhog looked condescendingly at Mouse.
“Yes, but…” started Mouse.
“Thank you, Chuck,” said Alkus. “You have explained it very well indeed. I had no idea it had such force.” She tugged on Mouse’s sleeve, gestured for him to bend down and whispered, “Don’t make him angry. We have enough anger to deal with at the moment.”
Mouse could see what she meant. The wind had made quite a mess; pots, pans, chairs, papers, mugs and plates were all over the ground. And the owners of all this rearranged domesticity were now beginning to mutter sullenly as they took in the extent of the damage.
One gray-whiskered weasel was sitting in the middle of the tunnel with a bewildered look on his face, his spectacles dangling from one ear. “What…Who… Where…Why…” His head jerked from one side to the other with each word as he sought some explanation for his undignified situation. His spectacles swung back and forth with each turn of his head, making him look like an old clock that couldn’t make up its mind what time to strike.
“Evening, Mr. Glissomely,” said Alkus. “Here! Let me give you a hand.” She helped the weasel to his feet. The poor old creature was still muttering to himself in a bemused fashion as Alkus guided him through the doorway of his home.
The weasel was no sooner out of the way than Qwolsh shouted, “Look out!” Mouse jumped to one side just as a ball of wool went hurtling past. A large ball of wool. A large babbling ball of wool. Babbling? Screaming was more like it.
“Help!” came a frantic cry as it rocketed by. “Let me go!” The ball careered from side to side, swinging halfway up each curved wall of the tunnel like a skateboarder in a storm drain. When it came to the bend, it was going so fast that it looped right up across the roof and down the other side screaming, “Aghhh! Let me out! I’m going to be siiickkkk…” The sound trailed off as the projectile zoomed around the corner.
“What was that?” asked an astonished Mouse.
“I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” said Alkus, shaking her head.
“Whatever it was, it stole my notebook. After it!” shouted Chuck. “Come back, you woolly gangster.” Chuck went bounding in pursuit.
“Come along, Mouse,” said Alkus. “Let’s get out of here before these good folks come to their senses.” The residents of the tunnel were slowly returning to normal as the shock of the underground hurricane started to wear off and they began to recover their wits, their voices—and their dishes.
“What under the earth…”
“Does anybody know…”
“How is a body supposed to eat this soggy mess?” The voices sounded none too pleased.
Alkus spoke up. “Nothing to worry about, folks. Just some new Uptop machinery oscillating at our frequency. A little modulation on our part will solve the problem. We’re going to deal with it right now.” She led Mouse and his new friends away. “No need to let them know what really happened,” she said when they were out of hearing. “They might not take too kindly to you. And they wouldn’t be too pleased with us, either, for bringing you here. In future just leave the operation of the machinery to us, all right?”
Mouse was only too happy to agree. He gulped and nodded and said how sorry he was. Alkus continued, “All right, just make sure it doesn’t happen again. Come on,” she said to the others. “Let’s get the kitchens operative again. Now what is that note?” she said, a look of concentration on her face. “I’d better check in the notes book.”
She dipped into her shoulder bag and took out a shiny black and white book that looked like a cross between a tiny flat piano and an address book. Taking a stylus from the book’s spine, she opened the book at the letter O. “Occupational, offices, openers, operations, ah, here we are, ovens.” She ran the stylus down the list, and when she pressed on the black dot beside the word, the book piped a note which Alkus hummed. The others took it up and hummed along with her. After a moment Alkus seemed satisfied they had counteracted Mouse’s sorry attempt at helpfulness. “Now,” she said as she set off down the tunnel, “let’s see if we can find out what that rolling cacophony was all about.” Irate complaints of ruined meals and trashed homes faded behind them as they rounded the bend in pursuit of the bouncing, bellowing ball of wool.