"Dad! Please come back!"

Sometimes I hated being a coward.

I switched on my torch and went into the tunnel. It was higher than me, and twice as wide. Quite easy to follow, really. I guess the miner needed the extra space so he could get his rails and rubble carts in? There were a few old bits of track under my feet, still rusting away. The tunnel went down-hill slightly, then up again, as if the miner had changed his mind. How he must have worked, chipped his way through the rock!

I walked on and on, wishing I was going the other way. Above me, I knew, millions of tons of mountain rock were pressing down.

"Please God, don't let there be an earthquake! I don't want to be buried alive!"

The walls trickled with water, the ceiling dripped, and my feet slipped on bits of wood - more crumbling remains of rails. At times I stopped to call, but the rock seemed to suck all the sound out of my voice. No wonder Dad hadn't answered me.

The tunnel forked. I hesitated, shining my torch first left, then right. I looked at the floor and saw where Dad's boot had crushed something.

It was a dead weta!

It was as big as my fist! And it was still struggling to walk, even though two of its legs were broken off!

I shuddered and stepped back.

"Dad!" I screamed, "Help!"

From far away, I heard someone coming. Another flashlight pierced the pitch black and hit me in the face.

"What is it?"

"Why were you taking so long?!"

"I'm sorry" said Dad, "I've been gone just over half a hour.(He glanced at his watch) I didn't think you'd mind. I found some great specimens!"

"Dad! There's a bug on the floor!"

"Ah! hemideina megacephala" said Dad, stooping down to look. He was very sad, but also rather curious. The insect was walking round in circles, using its remaining good legs.