Cole showed them how to set the wooden wedges, how to work the levers at the right angle to multiply their strength, how to read the warning signs, the tiny shifts, the low groans that meant the rocks were thinking about moving the wrong way. "Back in the mines," Cole said as he worked, "we used to say rocks talk. They creak, they groan, they whisper. You just got to learn how to listen." Sonny, who hadn't spoken a word until then, nodded quietly. Cole noticed him pressing his ear against the stone, listening.
"He gets it," Mattock said with a small grin. "Sonny hears things the rest of us don't." When everything was set, Cole gave the signal. Three levers, six hands, pressure applied in perfect rhythm. The wedges groaned. The rock gave a low, angry sound.
For one long, terrible moment, it felt like the whole mountain was about to come crashing down. "Hold it!" Cole shouted. "Keep the pressure steady. Don't you dare let go!" Then, a deep, rolling crack like distant thunder. The rock shifted.
Not much, just a few inches, but it was enough. The rest of the stones adjusted with a chorus of grinding and snapping, but they didn't collapse. They settled. And in that shift, a gap opened, narrow, dark, just wide enough for a lean man to squeeze through. The boys broke into shouts of victory, but Cole raised his hand, cutting them off.
"We ain't done yet," he said, eyes locked on the black opening ahead. "Now comes the hardest part," Cole Mattock said, his eyes fixed on the narrow opening. "Someone's got to crawl in there and bring that treasure out. And judging by the size of that gap, that someone's me." Koda looked at the opening, then at Cole, then back again. "It's tight," he said, real concern creeping into his voice.
"Real tight. What if the rocks shift while you're inside?" "I know," Cole answered. He wrapped a rope around his waist, pulling it tight. "That's why you boys hold on to this. If anything goes wrong, you drag me out.
No hesitation. Got it?" All five nodded. Something had changed in their eyes. The doubt was gone. Now there was respect.
Cole dropped to his knees in front of the opening, took a deep breath, and started pulling himself into the darkness. The dark swallowed him whole, like it had a life of its own. The only sound was his breathing, heavy, echoing off the stone pressing in on him from every side. The space was so tight his shoulders scraped both walls as he inched forward, dragging himself along with his elbows. "You holding up?" Koda's voice shouted from outside.
It sounded far away, like it belonged to another world. "Yeah," Cole called back, though he wasn't sure it was true. "I'm moving. Rope still tight, right?" "Taut as a drawn bow," Mattock answered. "We've got you.
We ain't letting go." Cole kept crawling. Every inch forward felt like a fight against his own instincts screaming at him to turn back. The air smelled of damp earth and something older, something that hadn't seen daylight in generations. His hands searched ahead blindly, feeling for cracks, dips, anything that might mean trouble. Then, after what felt like forever, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, the tunnel began to widen.
Cole pulled himself up to his knees, then slowly to his feet. With shaking hands, he pulled flint and steel from his pocket and struck a spark, lighting the small torch he'd wrapped in cloth. The flame flickered to life, and in its glow, the cavern opened before him. About the size of a large room, and there, against the far wall, sat the chest. It wasn't massive, but it carried weight.