Mothball glanced at Rutger’s short arms, holding all of two sticks—one of them barely more than a twig. “Yeah, I’m quite shocked you haven’t called someone on the telly to announce you’ve broken the world’s record for stick-luggin’.”
“It probably is a record for someone from the Eleventh.” Rutger nodded toward the door hidden in the canyon crevice, about forty yards away. The two of them stood at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, its majestic red walls of stone towering over them, reaching so far to the sky they couldn’t see their tops. Having finished gathering firewood, they were making their way back to the elevator shaft entrance.
“I reckon Sofia would call you a flimp right about now,” Mothball said as she resumed walking toward the hidden crevice.
“It’s wimp, you tall sack of bones, and if she did call me that, she’d pay the price.”
“Oh, really?” Mothball called over her shoulder. “And wha’ exactly would you do? Sit on her toesies? Bite her shins, perhaps?”
“I’d do whatever it took to teach the young lady some proper manners, that’s what.”
Mothball made it to the small crack of a cave that led to the elevator and dropped her stack of logs onto the ground. She reached her arms to the sky in a long, satisfying stretch. When Rutger finally waddled over and dropped his pathetic two sticks onto the pile, he put his hands on his waist and took deep gulps of air, as if he’d just completed a marathon.
“Congratulations,” Mothball said. “You’re the first tiny fat man to haul two twigs across a weed-scattered spit of sand. Right proud of yourself, I reckon?”
Rutger looked up at her and grinned. “Push the button, or it’ll be your shins that get bitten.”
Mothball’s booming laugh escaped before she could stop it. She looked around to make sure no stray hikers were around to hear it. “Quit makin’ me laugh, ya little ball of bread dough. Get us in trouble, ya will.”
She stepped through the thin crevice and pushed a button that looked like the nub of a rock. She heard the rumble of machinery and pulleys from deep within the mountain, then the low whine of the descending elevator. She groaned, having expected the doors to pop right open since they’d just exited an hour ago and no one else should’ve used it.
“Blimey, who called up the ruddy thing?” she said as she stepped out of the cave and back into the sunlight. “Probably that rascal Sally, playin’ one of ’is jokes.”
“Oh, calm yourself,” Rutger said, his face finally returning to its normal color. Sweat poured down his face, however, and his hair was matted and wet. “It only takes a couple of minutes. Master George has Sally too busy to mess with jokes anyway.”
“I’ll bet ya tonight’s dessert that when the door pops open, Sally’ll be there with a trick up his sleeve.”
Rutger looked up at her, his face creased in concern.
“D-d-dessert?” he asked, as if she’d just suggested wagering the man’s life savings. “Let’s not get foolish, Mothball.”
“Then you’ll take it?” she asked, folding her arms and peering down her nose at him.
Rutger hesitated, fidgeting as he rocked back and forth on his tiny feet. “Um, no, I think you might be right on this one.” He cleared his throat. “Probably, um, going to throw a bucket of water on us. That silly lumberjack.”
Mothball shook her head, pretending to be disgusted. “You’d throw your own mum in the sewer for a dessert, you would. You can ’ave mine—s’long as you give me some of your bread and jam. Quite tasty stuff, that is.”
Rutger rubbed his chin, deep in thought. After a few seconds, he said, “No, I like the bread and jam, too. Let’s just stick with our own portions. Deal?”
Mothball reached down and patted him on the head. “You’re a good man, you are. A bit short for my likin’, but a good man indeed.”
“Oh, stop—look, it’s here.”
A few feet inside the crevice, a rock wall slid to the side, revealing the lighted cube of the elevator, its walls made of fake wood panels. Master George stood inside, dressed in his usual dark suit, arms clasped behind his back.
Mothball’s surprise quickly turned to concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he said, breaking into a smile that was obviously forced. “Just wanted to come down and get a bit of fresh air.”
He stepped out of the elevator and squeezed past the narrow walls of the cave and into the open canyon. He took a deep breath, then let it out in a satisfied sigh.
“Simply beautiful, don’t you think?” he asked, turning back to look at them. “I really should come out here more often. Good for the heart, I’m quite sure.”
Mothball rolled her eyes at Rutger. “Out with it, Master George. Somethin’s botherin’ ya.”
Master George tried to look startled, an expression that for some reason reminded Mothball of a frightened chicken. Then his face wilted into a frown, and he huffed.
“Goodness gracious me,” he said. “I can’t get anything past you two.”