“Keep away from the cave,” says I, “or I’ll push the stone over!”
Batten scowled like he’d have been glad to bite me. “You get away from there. Drop that lever and come down here!”
“I’ll drop nothin’,” says I, “unless it’s this stone onto your head.”
I never would have dared to push it over on them, even to save the engine. I don’t believe any boy would. But Batten didn’t know as much about boys as I did, and the boulder looked mighty dangerous from below. They stood right where they were.
“We’ll get you,” says Bill; and he started to go around and come up after me. Batten went the other way so they could take me on both sides at once. I waited until they were almost reaching out for me, and then I toppled over the stone. It wasn’t with any idea of hitting them, for they were out of line, but it did seem to me we might gain a few minutes’ time if the boulder would drop in front of the door of the cave and stick so they’d have to move it before they could get in. Every minute was valuable now, for it was past noon, and help must be on the way.
When I toppled the stone I jumped after it and struck in the soft sand on all fours. The boulder had slipped down, gouging a groove out of the face of the hill, and stopped right in front of the door! It had fallen so straight, and the sand was so soft, it hadn’t rolled a mite—just sunk in about six inches and closed up the lower part of the entrance to the cave. There was a foot or so of room above, but it would be hard for a big man to squeeze through, and impossible to get the turbine out until it was moved away.
Mark stood over at the side, looking at me surprised.
“Tallow,” says he, “that was a b-b-bully idee!”
“Here they come,” I says.
Batten and Bill didn’t lose any time, but slid back to the shelf. When they saw the stone they talked about it quite a bit and not polite. It tickled me to hear how mad they were.