The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) Read Free Page B

the tunnel was so narrow he could run his fingers along both rock walls at the same time.
    In the confined tunnel, the puzzling phrase, “Kittens hendrini!” echoed back to Jeep several more times. The reminder of the impossible cracking apart (then uncracking), on top of his fright and exhaustion, was just too absurd. Jeep fought the urge to giggle insanely. I’ve clearly lost my mind.
    As Jeep limped along in an awkward crouch, an idea arose that scared and excited him at the same time. Maybe I’m having an adventure! Maybe it’s magic! I’ve certainly wished that it could be real often enough.
    Any free moment he could find, Jeep had his nose in a book. His favorites were daring adventures from olden days that involved heroes or magic—better yet, both. He believed such fantastic things could happen, even to him. So somewhere deep inside him, a mixture of hope and longing stirred—just a little, but it stirred, nonetheless.
    Though he struggled to walk bent over, Jeep no longer feared he’d get lost. He just had to take the next step—taking all the time he needed.
    After a while the tunnel leveled off. Jeep heard the strange stranger say, “I almost didn’t get back in time.” But he couldn’t hear the muffled reply. 
    So he knew they had arrived. But where?
     
     

Chapter 3—

LIFE BENEATH THE OAK TREES
    The strange stranger held aside a heavy woven tapestry, while he gestured impatiently for the boy to enter. Jeep paused, as a wave of apprehension washed over him. Hope warred with fear. Danger or rescue? Could it be a trap I never get out of?
    Hope won—giving the exhausted boy just enough courage to step over the threshold. That and his body’s longing. At least I’ll get warm again—and fed .
    Jeep found himself in a cavern high enough for him to finally stand up straight. Stretching up to his normal tallness hurt, but it hurt good. He lightly stamped his feet and swiveled his shoulders around as he tried to unkink his back. By the time he swung his arms back and forth a few times he could feel his body settle into shape again.
    His eyes couldn’t see anything except the fire from a fireplace. He could hear and smell the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace. He recognized other smells—kind of cinnamony with a hint of fresh flowers. Despite the dim light, he could tell the room was carved into solid rock. Yet hanging tapestries and a patchwork of rugs managed to add a warm, homey feeling that “softened” the rock. Together with the heavy wooden furniture and cabinets standing against the walls, the whole room could best be described as old and comfy.
    Before Jeep had a chance to sort out more details, the man grabbed his arm and dragged him to a table overflowing with books and papers. His host used one arm to shove the stacks, and with the other he thrust the bewildered boy onto a rather low padded bench. Jeep wondered for the hundredth time, What have I gotten myself into?
     “What¼?”
    “Eat first, then we’ll talk.”
    Another hand (though all Jeep saw was a yellow blur) set a full bowl of something and a spoon in front of him. I don’t care what it is. I’ll eat anything that doesn’t bite back.
    Jeep took a mouthful but didn’t recognize the taste. “What is this?”
    “What would you like it to be?” the old man replied.
    “Chocolate pudding is my favorite.”
    “Then eat chocolate pudding.”
    And that’s exactly what the next bite tasted like—creamy, chocolaty, and just sweet enough. Jeep ate until he could hold no more—though it took three full bowls. The strange little man sat across the table from him and idly stroked his beard. He never took his eye off Jeep while he watched the food disappear. Not a word was said, and his face gave no clue that betrayed what he was thinking.
    As soon as Jeep finished eating, the man leaped up and dragged him without comment to a corner of the chamber. There was a basin filled with warm water and a primitive