*****
You've hiked through Snake Canyon once before while visiting your Uncle Howard at Red Creek Ranch, but you never noticed any cave entrance.  It looks as though a recent rock slide has uncovered it.

Though the late afternoon sun is striking the opening of the cave, the interior remains in total darkness.  You step inside a few feet, trying to get an idea of how big it is.  As your eyes become used to the dark, you see what looks like a tunnel ahead, dimly lit by some kind of phosphorescent material on its walls.  The tunnel walls are smooth, as if they were shaped by running water.  After twenty feet or so, the tunnel curves.  You wonder where it leads.  You venture in a bit further, but you feel nervous being alone in such a strange place.  You turn and hurry out.

A thunderstorm may be coming, judging by how dark it looks outside.  Suddenly you realize the sun has long since set, and the landscape is lit only by the pale light of the full moon.  You must have fallen asleep and woken up hours later.  But then you remember something even more strange.  Just last evening, the moon was only a slim crescent in the sky.

You wonder how long you've been in the cave.  You are not hungry.  You don't feel you have been sleeping.  you wonder whether to try to walk back home by moonlight or whether to wait for dawn, rather than risk losing your footing on the steep and rocky trail.

[If you decide to wait, turn to page 5.]

You wait until morning, but, as the rosy wisps of dawn begin to light the eastern sky, a chill and forbidding wind begins to blow.

[If you seek shelter, turn to page 6.]

You step into a niche in the rocks to escape the merciless blast of wind and lean back against the rock wall.  Suddenly it crumbles under your weight, causing you to fall backward down a muddy slope and into a pond.

The sun shines brightly down on you as you pick yourself up, dripping wet, and wade to the grassy shore.  You look back at the rock, rising out of the pond, but you can't see where you fell through.

While you are collecting your senses, a horse comes prancing up, its rider dressed in tin armor -- a knight out of the history books -- enough to make you laugh.  The horseman lifts off his helmet and laughs himself.

"What a place for a bath!" he calls out.  "Well, it was worth it -- you're cleaner than a pig!"  He almost falls off his horse, he is laughing so hard.  "But climb on and I'll take you back to the castle," he says.  "We'll see if we can't make a human out of you yet."

[If you accept the ride back to the castle, turn to page 22.]

The laughing knight helps you up on his horse and you sit uncomfortably as it canters over the countryside.  After traveling a mile or so, you come to a great, stone castle.  The horse trots across the drawbridge and into the stable.

"Jump," the knight calls to you, and you slide off the rear of the horse.  The knight escorts you into the grand chamber of the castle.  All about you are stewards, attendants, and knights.  A few minutes later you find yourself bowing before the King himself.

After hearing your story, the King looks gravely at his advisors and knights and stewards.  "Does anyone believe this tale?" he asks.

Everyone cries back, "No, Your Majesty," or "Certainly not, Your Majesty."

"Then tell us the truth!" the King roars at you.

[If you insist you are telling the truth, turn to page 36.]

"I know it sounds strange, Your Majesty," you say, "but I have no reason to incur your wrath by making up a false story."

The King looks around at his courtiers.  They all have grave expressions on their faces, as if you have committed some unpardonable sin.

[Turn to page 11.]

"Off to the tower," the King shouts.  Two knights leap forward, drag you out of the chamber, and, with spears at your back, force you to climb forty-eight stone steps to the tower prison -- a tiny cylindrical room with one small window looking out over the moat and pasture land beyond.  The only furniture is a bed of straw.

You realize you are back in the early days of feudal Europe, where the only laws are the King's whims.  You have no idea how long he intends to keep you in the tower.  There is one possibility of escape.  The water in the moat, about twenty-five feet almost directly below your window, is quite deep.  If you jump out far enough, you should land in the deep water and not be hurt.

[If not, turn to page 13.]

You decide to wait, but soon regret it.  A guard visits you twice a day and brings you only black bread and water.  In a few days you feel almost too weak to escape even if you have the chance.

But just as you are beginning to despair of ever regaining your freedom, the guard walks in, smiling.

"The King has ordered you out of here," he says.  "We have a much more important prisoner -- a man who insulted the King's horse."  He laughs in your face.  You don't know whether he is telling the truth or not, but he holds the door and waves you out.  You walk down the long flight of stone steps to the main courtyard, free again -- at least for the moment.  The drawbridge is own and there seems to be nothing in the way of your leaving the castle.

There is splendid black horse tied up near you, probably owned by one of the knights.  It occurs to you that you could cover a lot of ground on that horse before anyone realizes what happened.

[If you ask the King for refuge, turn to page 15.]

You gain entrance to the King and thank him for letting you out of the tower.

"Think nothing of it," the King replies.  "We would do as much for any villain.  We like your spirit and, though your story makes as much sense as a dancing mule, it brought laughter to our eyes.  You have, without meaning it we are sure, performed a service for your King.  We thank you.

"We'll see that you have a horse and some pieces of gold," the King continues.  "Go and make your fortune.  We command you though -- come once a year and tell us a story no less amusing than what we have heard from your lips."

"My lord," you say.

"My liege," he replies.

You ride off, somewhat apprehensive, but intent upon making as much of your life as is possible in the year 982.

The End