Digby of the Dinosaurs Chapter Two
Brimming with curiosity, Digby stuck his head inside the little tunnel. He breathed in the rich smell of loosely packed earth. Inching forward on his stomach, he squeezed himself through the narrow opening. It was a tight fit, but Digby squirmed himself all the way in.
It was cool in the little tunnel, and very, very dark. Digby's heart was thumping loudly in his chest. This place was like nothing he had ever seen. His mouth went dry. He tried to back out the way he came in, but the passageway was very tight, and he could not back out or turn around. The path seemed to be wider in front of him than in back of him. After a moment or two his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see a narrow shaft of sunlight up ahead. It was streaming in from some sort of crack in the side of the tunnel wall.
Digby began to make his way toward the ray of light. The tunnel sloped a little downwards and widened out more as he crawled forward. Keeping his eyes on the shaft of light, he strained to leave the darkness behind. Just a few more feet and he would be there. Just a little farther ... Suddenly Digby was falling through darkness; falling and then hitting some soft earth and rolling, bumping, rolling downward into more darkness. He was rolling down a never-ending hill inside the tunnel. His eyes, nose and mouth were filling with dirt. He was swallowed up by dirt and darkness, never to be able to crawl away on his own into the sunlight again. And just as suddenly as he had fallen onto this dark slope and rolled down, down, down in the soft earth, he was falling through the air again. He landed with a rather hard PLOP.
Stunned, Digby lay in a heap, unable to see clearly or to move. After a few moments he realized that he had stopped falling, and that it was no longer all dark. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He sneezed, and sneezed again. He rubbed his eyes and brushed the dirt from them. Digby looked around slowly. He had fallen into a round sort of circle of sticks. There were sticks and feathers woven into high walls of dirt all around. The sticks were pushed up against a sheer cliff wall of rock. Above, there was a bit of a rock ledge overhanging part of the sticks. Treetops surrounded the dirt walls but Digby could not see out through them. Thin patches of sunlight filtered through the leaves above.
Digby became aware of something soft and leathery under his arm. It was kind of round and about the size of the little foam football one of the Nice Ladies at the Home for Little Waifs had given him. But this football was different from his. There were soft tapping sounds coming from inside it. Digby lifted his arm to get a better look at the football-thing. As he watched, it rocked just a bit, forward and back. Digby stared. The football-thing rocked again. The tapping went on, and now Digby was sure he heard some faint grunting sounds as well.
"Unh unh .... unh unh unh," said the football-thing.
Digby shifted over and backed away to the other side of the stick circle. He kept his eyes on the tapping, rocking, grunting football-thing.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. Faint grunting sounds continued to come from the football. And then: CRACK! A wet fuzzy head popped out of the football.
"Unh," said the head.
The football rocked again, and then rolled a little sideways.
"Unh!" said the head, followed by a long neck.
"Unh, unh, UNH," said the head again.
With a big rocking motion, and then a roll, and another rock, a small fuzzy body burst free of the football.
Digby stared in amazement. His mouth formed a perfect little O. The damp hatchling looked at him and blinked.
"Drrrp?" it said.
On the other side of the high dirt wall, branches suddenly cracked and snapped. Heavy footsteps struck the earth. The sticks in the thick wall began to shake. Digby tore his gaze away from the football hatchling and turned his head toward the rapidly approaching sounds. And then he froze right where he was.
It was cool in the little tunnel, and very, very dark. Digby's heart was thumping loudly in his chest. This place was like nothing he had ever seen. His mouth went dry. He tried to back out the way he came in, but the passageway was very tight, and he could not back out or turn around. The path seemed to be wider in front of him than in back of him. After a moment or two his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see a narrow shaft of sunlight up ahead. It was streaming in from some sort of crack in the side of the tunnel wall.
Digby began to make his way toward the ray of light. The tunnel sloped a little downwards and widened out more as he crawled forward. Keeping his eyes on the shaft of light, he strained to leave the darkness behind. Just a few more feet and he would be there. Just a little farther ... Suddenly Digby was falling through darkness; falling and then hitting some soft earth and rolling, bumping, rolling downward into more darkness. He was rolling down a never-ending hill inside the tunnel. His eyes, nose and mouth were filling with dirt. He was swallowed up by dirt and darkness, never to be able to crawl away on his own into the sunlight again. And just as suddenly as he had fallen onto this dark slope and rolled down, down, down in the soft earth, he was falling through the air again. He landed with a rather hard PLOP.
Stunned, Digby lay in a heap, unable to see clearly or to move. After a few moments he realized that he had stopped falling, and that it was no longer all dark. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He sneezed, and sneezed again. He rubbed his eyes and brushed the dirt from them. Digby looked around slowly. He had fallen into a round sort of circle of sticks. There were sticks and feathers woven into high walls of dirt all around. The sticks were pushed up against a sheer cliff wall of rock. Above, there was a bit of a rock ledge overhanging part of the sticks. Treetops surrounded the dirt walls but Digby could not see out through them. Thin patches of sunlight filtered through the leaves above.
Digby became aware of something soft and leathery under his arm. It was kind of round and about the size of the little foam football one of the Nice Ladies at the Home for Little Waifs had given him. But this football was different from his. There were soft tapping sounds coming from inside it. Digby lifted his arm to get a better look at the football-thing. As he watched, it rocked just a bit, forward and back. Digby stared. The football-thing rocked again. The tapping went on, and now Digby was sure he heard some faint grunting sounds as well.
"Unh unh .... unh unh unh," said the football-thing.
Digby shifted over and backed away to the other side of the stick circle. He kept his eyes on the tapping, rocking, grunting football-thing.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. Faint grunting sounds continued to come from the football. And then: CRACK! A wet fuzzy head popped out of the football.
"Unh," said the head.
The football rocked again, and then rolled a little sideways.
"Unh!" said the head, followed by a long neck.
"Unh, unh, UNH," said the head again.
With a big rocking motion, and then a roll, and another rock, a small fuzzy body burst free of the football.
Digby stared in amazement. His mouth formed a perfect little O. The damp hatchling looked at him and blinked.
"Drrrp?" it said.
On the other side of the high dirt wall, branches suddenly cracked and snapped. Heavy footsteps struck the earth. The sticks in the thick wall began to shake. Digby tore his gaze away from the football hatchling and turned his head toward the rapidly approaching sounds. And then he froze right where he was.