“Hurr, hurr, clever oi. Marthen, see if ’ee c’n get summat to lever your ’ole with.”

Martin turned to Lord Cayvear. “Have you got a long stout timber we could use as a lever?”

The bat chieftain conversed quietly with a band of his followers. They saluted and winged off from the high galleries.

“Be lot quicker an more suproisful wi’ a gurt lever,” Dinny explained to Lord Cayvear.

There was not long to wait before the bats returned bearing a stout piece of wood.

Log-a-Log fondled it, with tears in his eyes. “It’s the keel of Waterwing, my lovely boat!”

Sure enough, the stout curving timber was the original birchwood keel of Waterwing; the bats had salvaged it from the falls.

On Dinny’s instructions, it was borne upward by an army of bats. They waited until he had clambered up and positioned himself at the hole, then slowly they fed the strong timber in, under the mole’s guidance. When the timber was fixed to Dinny’s satisfaction, he wedged it on either side and underneath with three rocks. Then the mole slid back down to his friends. Martin looked up; what Dinny had accomplished was a deep hole beneath the light shaft, with the boat keel sticking out of the excavation at a slightly upward angle.

Log-a-Log scratched his chin. “What happens now, Dinny?”

“Hurr, now ’ee baths fly oop thurr soilent loik and perch on yon lever’s end.”

Lord Cayvear began signaling his legions. Two by two the bats flew silently as cloud shadows, then perched on the end of the lever.

When eight of them were perched securely, the keel grated, moving fractionally downward. They shifted and tightened clawholds.

Two more bats landed on the keel. It stayed still.

Yet another two landed. This time it moved visibly.

Dinny turned to the assembly. “Hoo arr, arf duzzen more’ll do ’ee. Best coom out o’ way whurr it be safer.”

Another two bats had landed, then another two. There was more shale and rock sliding down as the final two bats landed on the end of the overcrowded keel, proving Dinny’s calculation totally accurate.

Suddenly the hole gave way and collapsed, pushed outward by the keel bearing down. The entire rock face shifted under the leverage. Bats flew in all directions. Through the dust the small shaft of light widened into a hole as big as a fair-sized cave entrance.

There was a screeching and hooting, and through the debris Martin glimpsed a huge tawny owl winging its way west then south.

Amid the rubble of the landslide, the bats raised a sibilant cheer. Dinny was carried above them up the scree to the opening, Martin and Log-a-Log helping to bear their friend.

* * *

The three travelers were breathing deeply in the cool sweet evening air when Lord Cayvear flapped up gracefully. He bowed deeply.

“My thanks to you and your friends, Martin. Against the bigeyes we were totally helpless, totally helpless.”

“I know, Lord Cayvear,” Martin nodded understandingly. “Even we could not have fought off a tawny owl that size—he was a real monster. Well, thanks to our Dinny, we can continue the quest and your tribe can live in peace and safety.”