By late afternoon all the lemonade was gone.
“I think we sold a cup of lemonade to every person in the village,” Tyler said.
“Uh-uh,” Shilo said, shaking her head. “More! I sold three cups to Mr. Tanaka.”
“So did I!” Will said. “He must really like our lemonade.”
Cricket opened up the money box and organized the coins into stacks, filling the whole table.
“Sixteen,” Cricket said, counting carefully. “Is that right?”
Shilo recounted the stacks of coins. “Yup. Sixteen dollars. That’s almost as much as we made all last summer,” she said in amazement.
Tyler and Will high-fived.
“Let’s see how much cement we can buy,” Cricket said.
They piled everything in Shilo’s wagon and crossed the street to Pat’s Garage.
“Well, how was business today, kids?” Pat Watson’s voice boomed from the back of the store. “Did you make enough money to rescue our salamanders?”
“We sure hope so, Mr. Watson,” Cricket said. “It depends on how much cement costs.”
Four bags of cement lay on the floor in the back corner of the store, between jugs of motor oil and a dusty old boat anchor.
“Ten dollars a bag,” Mr. Watson said.
“Oh.” Cricket’s smile faded. “I guess we can only afford one bag.”
“Well, how much money did you make?”
“Sixteen dollars,” Shilo said.
“Well, you’re in luck, because there’s a discount for the Salamander Rescue Society. Two bags for sixteen dollars,” Mr. Watson said.
“There’s only one problem, Dad,” Will said. “We have to pay you with sixty-four quarters.”
Pat laughed and packed the cement into the wagon, along with a few buckets and a shovel. He handed Cricket a pair of thick rubber gloves, a mask and safety goggles. “Be sure to read the instructions carefully,” he said. “And good luck!”
The kids took turns pulling Shilo’s wagon with the cement and supplies all the way to Salamander Hill. But Dr. Kate wasn’t there.
“Hey, we beat her here,” Tyler said.
“Well, we’re pretty early,” Cricket said. “The salamanders don’t start to cross the road until it’s nearly dark.”
Tyler and Will unloaded the cement.
“If we build the ramp now,” Cricket said, “do you think it will be ready for the salamanders to use tonight?”
“I hope so.” Tyler picked up two of the smaller buckets. “We’ll go get some water from the lake while you open the bags.”
Warden McKay stopped by as Cricket and Shilo were studying the instructions on the bags. He placed bright-orange pylons on the road to alert drivers of the construction project.
Shilo giggled as Cricket pulled the safety goggles down over her eyes. “You look like a mad scientist,” she said. “Do you really need to wear all that stuff?”
“Absolutely,” Warden McKay said. “Cement is corrosive, which means it could irritate or burn your skin and eyes. And you really don’t want to breathe it in either.” He put on gloves and a mask and helped Cricket dump the bags into the buckets. Then his radio crackled with news about a porcupine at the post office, and he headed back to his truck.
“Thanks, Dad,” Cricket said. She stirred the heavy, gritty mixture while Tyler added water.
“How do we know when it’s ready?” Shilo asked.
Tyler looked at the instructions on the bag. “It’s supposed to look like thick oatmeal.”
“Great. I haven’t had oatmeal in a long time.” Shilo stepped back. “Does that look about right?”
“It looks good to me,” Tyler said.
“Me too.” Cricket dug into the cement with a small shovel. “Let’s start building.”
Traffic drove slowly past the kids as they worked. Curious tourists watched them through their car windows. Many people smiled and waved. Warden McKay checked on their progress again as he drove back into the village.
In an hour the ramp was finished, and the kids went home for dinner. Cricket could hardly eat. What if the cement didn’t harden in time? What if Dr. Kate was wrong, and they had missed the big migration?