..... "Where's it go?" Belle asked.

"That? That's the shortcut to Waxahachie."

"Waxahachie?" we both said at once.

"Sure is," said the other boy. "It's only about four miles when you go that away."

"But Waxahachie's fifty miles from here," I said.

Not by walkin' thew that drain, it ain't," the first boy said.

Belle and I weren't quite sure we believed them, but we never needed any encouragement to explore. We left our towels and stepped inside. The corrugated steel cooled our bare feet, but walking on it was tricky. We could hear the boys head on down the street, laughing and cutting up. It felt almost cold inside the drain, the way our old stone church feels on a hot Sunday. We made enough noise to scare a bear from its cave as we squeaked and screamed and growled our way slowly through the darkening tunnel. We found that by straddling the drain and touching the ceiling with our hands, it was easier to keep our balance. That way, too, our feet stayed above the dirt and pebbles and, now and then, puddles on the bottom. The tunnel smelled a lot like old books in a basement.

As we walked along the sides like Atlas holding up the sky, it got quite dark. We could barely make out the puddles with their little corrugated hills. By now we were quiet.

"We need a flashlight," I said to Belle. "We'll never see our way to Waxahachie."

"Wanna go home and get one?" she asked.

"I reckon we won't get there if we don't."

We helped each other get turned around, and then started back. Once again, we walked with our feet straddling the culvert pipe hands above to steady ourselves. I looked down at the almost black puddles, which kept catching glimmers of light from distant opening.

I could barely make out something just ahead—a large rock in a puddle, maybe? No, it had the shape of something living. And even in the almost darkness, that shape brought with it a fear as old as the world.

"You see that?" I whispered to Bell.

"What?" she asked, peering over my shoulder. Her voice echoed, "What,what,what."

"Isn't that a snake?"

Belle drew in her breath.

"How will we ever get out?" she said softly.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "It must have been there when we came in."

"You mean we walked right over it?" she gasped.

"I guess so. We jus' couldn't see it before."

We stood still for a minute.

"The boys said it 'uz only four miles. We could keep goin'," I said.

"In the dark?"

"How long you reckon it 'ud take?"

"I don't know, but the tunnel and both ends of it 'ud be dark by the time we get there."

"Let's see," I said, still whispering. "Takes over an hour to drive there."

"I 'spect it 'ud take more 'n half a day to walk it." Belle murmured.

"'Nuther thing. That might not be the only snake in here. Daddy Jim says where there's one, there's more, most times."

"One th-thing sure, Belle stuttered, th-th-ere's only two ways out!"

"We have to go over it," I said finally.

"I know it," she said, "but what if we slip?"

I held my breath.

"We better not! Let’s go," I said, afraid to stay in the dark and afraid to go toward the light....