The Summer of the Falcon Read Online Free Page B

against his warm beak—and as she did she smiled, for her world was now as peaceful as a summer day.

3. The Cave
    W HEN THE MEN were not home at suppertime Elizabeth Pritchard was angry. When they did not appear at sundown she was worried. At dusk she was deeply concerned.
    She called Mary Bunker on the phone and learned that Will had come home hours ago, dressed, and gone to a meeting. “That’s odd,” she said as she hung up. “Junie, let’s get the green canoe and paddle up there. Maybe something’s happened.”
    June’s mother usually stayed out of the male world; the feminine arts were enough for her. But when her inner timing told her the male world was out of rhythm, she could paddle a canoe or shoot a gun or get angry. June knew when her mother’s troubles were big—she lifted her chin and made decisions with determination.
    She found a kerosene lamp, elaborately Victorian, which she filled and lit, for the men had taken the flashlights. Then June and her mother started up the creek as the shadows darkened in the willows and the lightning bugs stepped off the tips of grass blades to show their lights.
    At the second bend they found the red canoe on the bank. They hopped out and pulled theirs beside. Her mother handed June the lamp, sat on a rock, and put the paddle across her knees. “All right, June,” she said with firmness, “go in there and call. See if they’re safe.”
    June felt her mother’s courage pass on into her. She hesitated only long enough to say, “Oh, they’re all right. This is silly.”
    “We’ll see!” her mother said with finality. “Never whine when there’s an important job to do. Whining’s for children—and cats!”
    June walked slowly toward the entrance of Bear Cave, staring at the black and gray limestones that framed the opening. She dropped to her knees. Bear Cave had to be entered on the stomach, wiggling through five feet of narrow stoneway. Her fear of the tight darkness seized her as she entered, but her mother’s voice was so confident she pushed the lamp ahead of her and wedged in.
    When she reached the big room beyond the passageway she stood up. The light from the lamp made eerie patterns over the vaulted walls. Water rushed somewhere in the dark. In a loud voice she called, “Hey, where are you?” And “... are you?...are you?...are you? ” answered back. The wind rushed out of the passageway. Stones dripped. Bats circled swift and quiet. June could feel her flesh go goose pimples. She stood still and called again.
    From the darkness she heard, “June? Is that you?... you?...you? ”
    “Yes. Where are you?... are you?...are you? ”
    She watched her light create a leaping shadow on the wall and as it danced she opened her eyes wider to see the new cave-in Will Bunker had mentioned. It was black. And it rumbled with the sounds of a subterranean river carving holes in the belly of the earth. The sounds were cold and unfriendly. June fought down her urge to run. She walked to the passageway, wiggled into it, and called to her mother. “I hear them!”
    “Thank heavens. Can you see them?”
    “Not yet.”
    She dreaded going back to the cave-in; but she clenched her fists and backed up, walking slowly to the edge of the new opening. There she shouted into the earth.
    “Are you all right?... right?...right? ”
    “No!” Uncle Paul answered. “We don’t have lights... lights. Rod fell off the rope... rope ...collarbone, I think...another rope...flashlights...somewhere.”
    June held her kerosene lamp high and looked around. Cached by the big boulder where the rope was tied lay two flashlights.
    “I found your lights,” she called. She wondered why they were there.
    “Good! Now, go...attic and get us that big rope... rope. ” It was Charles’s voice. “Don’t worry, we’re okay... okay...okay. ”
    “Is Rod?”
    “Yeah,” Rod answered. “Snor toots (it hurts)... toots...toots. ” With Rod and the twins and Uncle Paul somewhere in its