Truscas argued hard for his idea, and in the end, since the centaur would be doing most of the heavy labor, they thought it only fair to give it a try. Roland still had his sword, and though it had not been designed to be used as an ax, it made it possible to cut through small and young trees. Turning them into logs and lashing them together into walls and a roof was not easy.

Truscas dragged the trees to the clearing. They did not want their work seen too near the clearing itself. Mingus found and used the vines to tie everything. It took the rest of the day. When they were at last satisfied that they had pieced together a reasonable bottomless box that would not fall apart the minute it dropped, they propped up one end of the box with the sturdiest sapling they could find. They had a strong vine tied to the base of that sapling and cleverly hid it under leaves as they stretched it back to their camp.

“I used to catch rabbits this way when I was young,” Mingus said.

“Me, too,” Truscas said. His flanks were full of sweat, and when a centaur sweats, it is something to see.

“I think we need better bait than carrots, though.” Roland got thoughtful as he nibbled on the deer they had for supper.

“Yes,” Mingus agreed. “But what kind of bait would be appropriate for a donkey-eared drunkard?”

“Speaking of which, don’t eat too many of those fermented grapes,” Boston pointed at the cluster in Roland’s hand, though she made a point of looking at all the men. “You’ll never catch anything if you get drunk yourselves.”

Roland smiled and set his down. Truscas swore the grass was sweet enough. He did not need any more grapes. “Yes, well.” Mingus frowned and put down the handful he was about to enjoy.

“Yip-Yip!” They had heard that all day, and though it gave them all headaches, they never caught sight of the old man until just then when they heard a loud voice. “Very interesting!” It came from the clearing with the box, and it echoed, like someone would if they were standing beneath the box.

“Quick!” Mingus yanked the rope and Roland pulled with him. They heard a great crashing sound and ran to the clearing. Truscas came only a moment behind them, still frozen in mid-chew at the sound of that voice. When Roland and Mingus arrived in the clearing, they saw the box still standing, supported by the sapling. They ran underneath to see if there might be some defect in the box or the set-up. Of course, when Truscas arrived to join them, one of his big back hooves struck the sapling and the thing came down and trapped the three of them on the inside. Boston did not laugh too hard.

Someone whistled, and Boston looked to the side. Silenus was just dancing off into the bushes, wiggling his butt and his ears in rhythm to some unheard music. The trouble was, when Boston concentrated on the god’s ears, he looked remarkably like Bugs Bunny, but when she took in his belly and remembered the one glimpse of his face that she caught, he looked more like Elmer Fudd.

Boston yawned, said good night to the boys and went back to the camp. She found all her things there, and everyone else’s as well. She assumed Kartesh must have managed that much, somehow. She called out for her but got no answer. Still. She put a big log on the fire, got the fairy weave blanket she called her own, and curled up beside the light while the men spent the next hour cutting a hole big enough in their box to escape.

Boston had fallen asleep by the time the others came back to the camp, hot, tired, cranky, and sweating more than ever.

~~~*~~~

Alexis and Katie danced all through that day and night, except when they ran from one Satyr or another. They were not Nymphs to give their sexual pleasure on a whim, and the Satyrs knew this and did not press themselves. Still, they had fun now and then chasing the women, and the women dutifully laughed and ran and hid.

Alexis found the dance of the fauns too complex for her taste. The dance of the centaurs looked too stately and, she felt, too dangerous lest she be stepped on. The dwarfs, on the other hand, simply wiggled and jumped like young children at a rock concert. My, how they enjoyed themselves.  And Katie danced, often in circles like a prima ballerina. Alexis guessed Katie had studied ballet when she was young, and then she wondered where these stray thoughts kept coming from. She wished she could get rid of them. They were interfering with her enjoyment of the dance.

Katie simply enjoyed, and all the more when the sun set, and the stars came up and the thin sliver of a moon.

To be sure, Lockhart, Captain Decker, and Lincoln did not spend all their time dancing, though they did not sleep or rest and did not eat anything other than grapes. The Nymphs corralled them early on and made them lay down on the grass so they could feed them the grapes and giggle. The more drunk the men got, the more the Nymphs giggled.

Lockhart felt nagged from somewhere in the back of his mind that he ought to be doing something. He did not know what, but it had to be something. Unfortunately, he also did not care to think about it. He looked at Decker and Lincoln occasionally. At first, he remembered something about them. By the end of the day, he had trouble remembering their names. By the following morning, he felt surprised that they actually let humans participate in the dance.

~~~*~~~

Roland got up early in the morning and salvaged as many of the vines he could from the wreckage of their box project. He wove the vines together into a fine net and let his father Mingus and Truscas clear away their ill-conceived trap. By the time the clearing had been once again relatively cleared of the debris, Roland finished with his weaving. He sent the older men out to gather more vine. In particular, he needed four long vines.

“I think we’ve cleared a square mile of vines,” Mingus commented on his return. Boston arrived with the rope from Captain Decker’s pack, and Truscas came in a short while later with the last of the long vines. Then Roland got to work in earnest.

He needed Truscas to bend a bigger tree than he liked, but they had cut all the nearby saplings. He tied the rope to the tree and the long vines to the rope on one end and the net on the four corners. He held the tree down with a last vine that he found and stretched it tight across the center of the net. Then he covered the net with leaves and made everyone keep back, especially the Centaur. One trip on that vine in the center and the net would be pulled straight up, trapping whatever got caught inside.

As a final precaution, Roland cast a small spell to ward off any innocent animals who might be tempted to cross the clearing. Then they headed back to camp to wait. Boston had a fine lunch ready, including some warm bread. That helped them all feel better, and Truscas marveled at the bread.

“Magic?” Truscas wondered about it.

“Yes,” Boston lied like an elf before either elf could lie for her.

Once again, they did not have to wait long before they heard “Aye-Aye, Yip!” Then they heard Silenus in the clearing. He shouted, “Ingenius!” This time, the three men walked carefully to a position where they could watch. They saw Silenus deliberately kick the trip vine. The trap sprung and he got caught. He swung wildly because the tree had been too big, but the whole time he shouted “Weeee!”

The three stepped out from the trees when the net stopped swinging, but then Silenus dripped himself through the spaces in the net like a glass of wine through a strainer and he reformed again on the ground. He shook a finger at the three, grinned, waved at Boston and ran back into the woods faster than they could follow. Mingus only had one thing to say.

“Dig.”

Boston shook her head while they used the lumber they had cut and some stones to dig a hole in the earth. It took all afternoon with Truscas hauling the dirt away in a couple of baskets Roland hastily wove out of the net. When the hole became six feet deep and about six feet long and wide, Mingus covered it over with branches and leaves.

“I’m tired,” he said when he was done. “I need a night’s sleep.” And he did that. In fact, they all did that, and without bothering to eat supper.

************************

MONDAY

If Silenus can be convinced to help and they can get Saturn sober, the travelers might yet be saved. Until Monday, Happy Reading

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