If
you have arrived in the middle of the adventure, you may start at the
beginning by going HERE!
Erik chooses to search for a ford:
Erik wanted no part of that bridge. He would not risk his pony’s life. He turned to the left and rode downstream.
Although
it was winter, the river wasn’t frozen solid, so they couldn’t cross
that way. There were chunks of ice here and there, bobbing up and down
in the river current like miniature icebergs. There was mud, too.
Squelch, squolch, splorch went Benton’s hooves as he plodded through the
muck on the riverbank.
Benton
nudged Erik with his nose. He was trying to say, “Let’s go back to the
bridge, this muck is not fun anymore,” but unfortunately, Erik didn’t
understand Equine.
“Hey!”
Erik exclaimed, as his feet skidded in the mud. “What are you trying
to...” He looked across the river. The water wasn’t so deep just where
Benton had stopped. And someone was crossing the river ahead of them.
Benton had found the ford! “You are one smart pony, Benton!”
Benton
nodded his head and snorted. He knew he was a smart pony, even if Erik
had misunderstood what he was saying. They started across the river,
Benton placing his feet very carefully. This was not easy. Ponies really
shouldn’t have to do this sort of thing... but with a prrrrrrr of his
lips and a shake of his head, he reminded himself that it was in a good
cause, helping his boy.
Just
then, the wagon ahead of them lurched. The driver scrambled out and
splodged through the muck on the other bank of the river, grabbed his
donkey’s harness and tugged. Splooosh! He landed on his backside, while
the donkey and cart just stood there.
“Oh no, Benton!” Erik exclaimed. “That cart is stuck! We have to help them!”
Benton
knew it was no use arguing that they might get stuck, too, and besides,
there was that problem of Erik -- bright boy though he was -- not
understanding Equine. He plodged forward, his hooves getting heavier
with mud at every step.
Once
on the riverbank, Erik noticed all the tin cups and plates and other
things hanging from hooks on the sides of the stuck wagon. The tinker!
He went everywhere and knew everything! Maybe, just maybe...
Erik
hitched Benton next to the tinker’s donkey, grabbed Benton’s harness to
urge him forward and started tugging. Splodge, grunt, squoosh, oof,
SWOOOOOOOSH! As the cart finally came loose from the mud, bits of water
and muck flew everywhere. Erik and the tinker were covered in the stuff!
Spitting
bits of mud out of his mouth, the tinker said, “Thank you, young
fellow-mi-lad! I am forever in your debt! I will repay you if it takes
every tin cup I own. Simply speak what you wish.”
Erik
wiped his muddy face with an equally muddy sleeve. “All I wish is to
find my birthday present. It was stolen from the box before I could even
find out what it was! Someone said something about a rider on a black
horse. I’ve been following clues all over the castle and now the
forest.”
The
tinker grinned from ear to ear. There was mud on his teeth, so it
wasn’t really a pretty sight. “I believe I can help you! I saw that very
rider just before I started across the river. It was a young girl with
fair curly hair streaming in ringlets down her back. She was riding low
on her horse, clutching something long and shining in her hand. She
disappeared into the forest.”
Erik
paced around rapidly, kicking up more and more mud. “Lady Josie! The
young princess’s lady-in-waiting. Well, girl-in-waiting. But what would
she be doing in the forest -- she belongs in the castle. And with
something long and shining? Maybe that’s my present! Maybe SHE stole it!
But why?” He stopped and stared at the tinker. “I must find her! Which
way did she go?”
“She went thataway,” the tinker said, in the first recorded usage of that phrase in history. He pointed south.
Erik
slithered onto Benton’s back (he had to try three times, because the
mud made him slide off the other side) and they headed off.
It
quickly grew very dark and spooky as he rode into the forest. Benton
was all for getting out of there, but he didn’t seem to have much say in
the matter. Ahead of them loomed a huge, twisted tree. Benton neighed
in alarm, and Erik reined him in.
There was a sign nailed haphazardly to the tree. It pointed right to “Soggybottom Swamp” and left to “Mystery Mountain”.
“We have another choice to make, Benton,” Erik said.
Choose the Swamp and go HERE.
Choose the Mountain and go HERE.
