that was pulling Kevin toward it.
"Because," said Kevin, "if there really is magic in this mountain, then I want to be the one to find it."
Kevin and Josh waited, fully dressed, in their dark tent, listening to the voices of the other kids as they settled down for the night. Then they listened to the teachers, who sat around complaining about the principal the way the kids complained about their teachers. Finally there were no voices—only the chorus of crickets and the rustling of leaves.
They began the trek sometime around midnight;
the very excitement of the climb propelled them through the quarter mile 'of woods to the great stone face of the Divine Watch.
"We'll have to walk around to the other side," said Kevin, "The eastern slope should be a cinch."
"This is nuts," sighed Josh. "Someone oughta reach in through your ears and slap that shrimpoid brain of yours."
The mountain breathed a chilling wind down the face of the cliff, and Josh looked up. Kevin could see concern building up in Josh's eyes. Josh wasn't the worrying type, but on the rare occasions when he did find something worth worrying about, he would worry himself silly.
"People die climbing mountains, Kevin," said Josh. "Bears bite their heads off, and vultures pick at their bones. I just thought you should know."
"I'm not turning back."
Josh zipped the last few teeth of his jacket zipper until he was as warm as he was going to get.
"Are you scared, Kevin?"
"I've never been so scared in my life," Kevin said with a smile. Kevin Midas never knew it could feel this great, being this scared.
CHAPTER 3
The Balance of Dark and Day
As anyone who has done it can tell you, most of the really important mountain-climbing lessons are learned the first time. Kevin's and Josh's first lessons were, in fact, five of the most important ones:
1. Mountains are a hell of a lot larger than they look.
2. Granite is just as hard as you think it is.
3. Just because trees might be growing on a slope, that doesn't mean it ain't steep.
4. Flashlights are useless unless you've got a whole lot of batteries.
All of this added together equals the biggest lesson of all:
5. Never, ever climb a mountain at night.
None of this, however, was going to stop Kevin and Josh.
It took them over an hour to make their way around the face of the mountain and find a point where they could begin climbing. Another hour later, their flashlights could only create dull brown patches on the ground that wouldn't help an ant find its way.
Halfway through the night, lit only by the bright moonlight, Kevin and Josh were beginning to stumble. Their legs were getting scratched and bruised through their jeans, and the soles of their Nikes were fraying and going bald faster than Mr. Kirkpatrick.
And there was the ever-present sense that they were not alone on the mountain.
With nothing but forest sounds and the monotonous padding of his own aching feet to occupy his mind, Kevin's vivid imagination began to conjure up all sorts of dark mountain terrors. Bigfoot to the left, mountain lions to the right, and up ahead the fluttering of bats. Vampire bats. Big ones that could swarm over you and suck you dry in seconds, the way piranhas could devour a horse. And vultures would pick at our bones, thought Kevin.
Kevin knew Josh was thinking the same sorts of things, but he wasn't saying anything. As long as they didn't slow down and didn't talk about it, everything would be fine. The farther they got, the harder it was to turn back—especially with all those sounds echoing behind them.
After what seemed like an eternity, the trees became fewer and farther between, until they finally gave way to prickly bushes and jagged rocks. The moon was a pumpkin on the horizon, and dawn gently hinted on the opposite side of the sky. It was sometime around five-thirty when they finally dared to rest on a flat granite plateau.
Kevin looked up at the mountain summit as he dumped sand and pebble from
Stephen Goldin, Ivan Goldman