If he left the grass he would be in the open, which meant running through the rice fields.
Old Scar’s tail switched angrily, lie hissed, turned and skulked through the grass toward the lake, keeping his belly close to the ground so he wouldn’t give away his position. He found a dead tree and crawled behind it, peering out with his good eye through the naked branches, waiting. This was his territory. He had walked it out and sprayed it. He had nowhere else to go.
Wonderboy stood at the edge of the tall bamboo, marveling at how high and straight they grew. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it thumping in his ears. He remembered Max telling them to be extra careful in the bamboo thickets and the tall grass. The bamboo grew close together, so he could barely see between the stalks. Fearfully he entered the thicket, shouldering his way through it. He started singing to himself. Then he began singing aloud, but very low, scat-singing the chorus from ‘Suite: Judy Blue Eyes’:
‘Da da da da do. . . dat dat de da da do. .
The singing calmed his nerves. He decided to go through the bamboo to the edge of the short grass and wait. He could see only a few feet in front of him. Wonderboy had thought he was finished with taking risks, yet here he was, testing himself, stalking an angry, half-blind, man-eating five-hundred-pound cat that could jump out of nowhere at any moment. The sporting aspect of the hunt suddenly seemed stupid to him. It would be so much easier, he thought, to spot the tiger from the elephants and kill it.
Hatcher, too, moved cautiously through the bamboo. The noise boys and elephants were much closer now. It was pure cacophony. If the old cat was in there, he would soon make his move.
Hatcher was thinking about Wonderboy, wondering whether the kid was thinking smart. Scared as he was, he might just stumble in the grass. Grass could be deceiving. The kid could walk right up and step on the cat’s tail before he saw him. Hatcher broke through the bamboo stand to the short buffalo grass. Fifty yards on the other side was the tall grass, moving slightly with the light breeze.
Hatcher walked along the edge of the bamboo thicket toward Wonderboy with the waist-high grass swishing past him and insects swarming in his wake. He walked, stopped and listened, then went on.
He began to tense up. The noise boys and elephants were nearing the far side of the tall grass.
Through the twigs of the dead tree, Old Scar could see one of the elephants looming above the tall reeds and hear the thrashers beating on the pots and yelling although he could not see them. The old tiger was thirsty. He was hungry. He had lost his patience.
One of the big elephants started into the tall grass. Old Scar’s keen ears heard sounds other than the beating of pots and yelling, lie moved away from the tree stump, crawling on his belly, soundlessly moving through the grass toward the lake.
From atop his elephant, Max Early scanned the sea of tall elephant grass, a wide strip three hundred yards deep that stretched almost half a mile from the lake to the cassava fields. Beyond it was the strip of short grass and the tall bamboo. Below him on the ground, Quat was checking the ground, looking for the pugs of the rogue cat. He found the tracks leading into the grass and pointed toward the lake.
‘Anta rai,’ Quat said softy. ‘Seua, thaleh saap.’
‘He says it’s heading toward the lake and that’s dangerous,’ said Early. ‘I was hoping he’d break out of this grass into the open and run for it.’
Early blew a single sharp blast on a chrome whistle. It pierced the air, a sound higher than the clatter the noise boys were making. Everything stopped.
The elephants, spaced about a hundred yards apart, stopped and began pulling up tufts of grass with their trunks and eating them. Nobody moved. There wasn’t a sound. Then Early thought he heard something. He leaned forward, his sharp ears listening.
‘What the hell’s that?’ he said, half aloud.
‘You see something?’ Earp asked.
‘I hear something. Listen.’
They listened. Earp cocked his head to one side.
‘Is that somebody singing?’ Early asked.
‘Singing?’
‘I swear to God I hear somebody singing. Sounds like it’s coming from over there in the bamboo.’
‘Got to be Wonderboy,’ said Earp.
‘Is he nuts?’
‘He’s scared. Yell over there and tell him to shut up.’
‘Uh-uh. If the kid answers, he’ll pinpoint himself.’
‘The tiger isn’t after him.’
‘We don’t know what that tiger’s thinking.’
‘Something wrong?’ Riker called out.
Early held his hand up and put his fingers to his lips. He pointed to Riker and then swept his hand across the elephant grass and the low reeds toward the wide strip of bamboo. He urged his own beast straight ahead, peering through his glasses in the general direction of the sound he had heard.
‘Get ready,’ he said softly to Earp. We may have a situation on our hands.’
Hatcher was moving quickly down the edge of the bamboo strip toward Wonderboy when he heard the whistle. The noise men stopped beating their pans. He stopped and waited for a moment. It got deathly still.
Then he, too, heard the singing. Wonderboy was closer than he thought. And lie was somewhere in the bamboo thicket, a dangerous place to be. Hatcher doubled his pace, moving down the outer edge of the bamboo thicket until he could hear Wonderboy’s soft song somewhere nearby. He e:ntered the thicket, moving as quietly as he could toward the voice. The tall stalks of stiff bamboo clattered as he made his way through them toward Wonderboy.
Old Scar, too, was startled by the whistle. Then the noise stopped and the silence confused him. He stopped and listened, heard the elephants pulling up grass.
He heard the sound in front of him: ‘Do do do do da. . . dat dat do da da do. .
And he heard someone coming through the grass behind him. He waited, his muscles tightening. The elephants started moving again; he increased his pace.
Old Scar was spooked. He decided to go through the bamboo to the open field beyond and make a dash for it. His instincts told him to move as quietly as possible until he was in the open. There was activity all around now. Enemies were closing in on him.
He crept forward again, out of the tall elephant grass into the short stuff. Now he really hugged the ground, moving one paw in front of the other, stealthily, cautiously, slowly crawling toward the bamboo, moving away from whoever was coming up in the rear, moving away from the elephants, his good eye jumping nervously, checking the route as he crept toward the strange sound.
Early stopped his elephant again and scanned the grass with his binoculars. He stopped, freezing the glasses on one spot.
‘Something?’ Earp whispered.
‘Not sure .
Early watched the tall grass swaying in the wind. Then he saw one short stretch moving against the wind, almost imperceptibly, like a ripple in the ocean. The movement stopped. Then it moved again. Another four or five feet and stopped again.
‘Jesus,’ Early breathed, ‘there it is.’
‘Where?’ Earp asked.
‘There, moving toward the bamboo in the short grass. Once it gets near the bamboo, if it sees anything it’ll probably charge.’
Early handed the binoculars to Earp and directed the elephant toward the movement. The big animal lumbered forward as Earp peered nervously through the glasses.
‘I don’t see it,’ Earp said.
‘Right in front of us, about a hundred yards. Watch the buffalo grass,’ Earp said.
Then Earp saw the ripple, the slight movement through the short reed-like grass, then it stopped again.
‘Jesus, you’re right,’ Earp said.
‘Where the hell is Wonderboy?’ Early asked.
The elephant moved quickly toward the thicket.
‘Can’t we start the racket again, scare it off?’ asked Earp.
‘No, none of that,’ Early snapped. ‘That cat’s crazy. That cat’s a Mexican jumpi
ng bean. We shake him up now, he might just charge out of pure cussedness.’
Early’s voice was clear and clean: ‘Wonderboy, stop singing. Back out of that bamboo strip real slow. Don’t answer me, just do it. Now!’
‘Shit,’ Hatcher said, hearing Early’s caution. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t have time to stop. He kept moving ahead.
Old Scar, too, heard the man yell and stopped. Then he saw movement a few yards away. His lips peeled back from his fangs and his nostrils sniffed the air. The noise stopped. He kept moving forward.
Through his good eye he saw movement in the bamboo. It was moving away from him and he followed
it. Behind him the elephants were picking up their pace. The ground trembled as they stomped through the tall grass. Old Scar moved faster, creeping toward the tall, hard shafts and the open fields on the other side.
Then he saw the two-legged creature, a strange- looking animal with a face that was half black and half white. It was frightened. Old Scar could smell his fear. The creature was backing into the bamboo that stood between Old Scar and freedom. He was carrying a stick. The tiger’s claws extended, the muscles in his shoulders rippled as he got ready to charge.
He crept out of the grass and into the bamboo.
‘Christ, the cat’s in the bamboo,’ Early said, still watching the movement through the binoculars.
‘Where the hell is Wonderboy?’ Earp said.
‘He’s in there, too, I can see the stuff moving. The cat’s on to him.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Earp said.
‘What the fuck,’ Early said, refocusing the glasses. ‘Is Hatch in there too?’
‘Who the hells knows?’
Riker and Gallagher were veering toward them, and so was the elephant Melinda and Prophett were riding closing in on the bamboo thicket.
Hatcher started to run toward Wonderboy, who had stopped singing. He plunged through the bamboo, which clattered after him as he charged through it, breaking off stalks, stumbling, keeping his rifle pointed up so he wouldn’t accidentally get .off a shot and hit Wonderboy.
Old Scar, too, was moving faster, creeping through the stalks of bamboo, trying to move without revealing his position. He could see the strange creature ahead of him, backing up, looking around wildly. The creature with the black-and-white face was twenty yards away. Old Scar was accustomed to hunting in the bamboo thickets. He could see the creature, but it could not see Scar.
The strange creature stumbled, lost his balance, turned away from him, thrashing about, trying to stay on his feet.
The big cat charged.
Hatcher saw Wonderboy falter and fall. He heard the bamboo stalks cracking off before he saw the cat. He ran toward Wonderboy, who was floundering around, trying to get in a sitting position.
‘Stay down,’ Hatcher barked in his shattered voice. ‘He’s charging.’
‘Oh God no!’ Wonderboy screamed.
Hatcher was ten feet away from the kid when the tiger broke loose of the bamboo stalks. He threw the 375 H&H up to his shoulder, aimed for the chest of the powerful beast as it charged closer and squeezed off a shot.
Ping!
The rifle misfired.
Hatcher didn’t lose a beat. He threw the rifle at the rogue and dived on top of Wonderboy, grabbing his gun and rolling on his side. Nearby he heard an elephant trumpet, felt the ground shake as the big creature charged toward them. But he did not let that distract him. He was on his side and the big tiger leaped from ten feet away, its open mouth showing dripping fangs, its one eye gleaming ferociously.
He had time for one shot. He swung the rifle up and fired from the waist straight into the tiger’s face.
Old Scar felt the heat of the explosion, was blinded by the white light, and a millisecond later felt the bullet explode just above his good eye, cracking the skull, burning into his head, searing his brain and snapping his head back.
His forelegs collapsed and he went down, rolling over, snapping off a path of bamboo one after another. They came showering down on top of Hatcher and Wonderboy. The tiger lay five feet away, its enormous mouth still open. A pitiful cry-growl escaped from its throat and it shuddered and began to stiffen.
Beneath him, Hatcher could feel Wonderboy trembling. He got to his knees and looked down at the musician, who seemed to be trying to dig a hole in the ground.
‘It’s over, kid,’ Hatcher whispered. ‘It’s okay.’
‘No, no,’ Wonderboy cried,, all legs and hands in a tight little pile.
Another shower of bamboo stalks fell around Hatcher, and he heard one of the elephants trumpet almost on top of him. He turned, and stared straight into the muzzles of two guns — Early’s and Earp’s. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Almost as if he could perceive in slow motion, Hatcher saw Early’s finger tightening on his trigger.
My God, he’s going to shoot me! Hatcher thought as he spun away and ducked and heard the rifle boom.
Behind him he heard the tiger scream again and, spinning around, saw it, half n its feet, take the shot high in the shoulder. It screamed once more and fell dead.
‘Told you not to go for the head shot,’ Early said.
THAI HORSE
Early’s small house was at the end of a narrow, hard-packed dirt road. The road wound through dark, verdant foliage, which choked its shoulders, casting it in deep shadow. Rainbow-streaked macaws and parrots, startled by the van, had insulted the men with angry squawks and shrieks as they returned from the hunt. The thatch-roofed house had a wide porch around three of its sides. The sweet odor of cassava from nearby fields permeated the air.
The big cat had been strung upside down by its legs from a small tree. Several women from the village the animal had terrorized had gathered at Early’s house to celebrate Hatcher’s kill with dancing and a feast. An elderly Oriental man was stooped over a large pot of Thai stew cooking on an open fire.
Hatcher had been coldly quiet since the end of the hunt. He sat alone on the porch watching the locals celebrate the end of the old rogue. The women portrayed the hunters in the impromptu dance while one woman played Old Scar. Lithe, her face painted yellow, she danced on all fours, darting about as the hunters pursued her.
Infuriated in the tense moments after the kill, Hatcher had snatched the bolt out of the 375 H&H and tossed it to Early.
‘Next time you loan a gun to someone maybe you ought to make sure it works,’ Hatcher had snapped angrily.
Early had turned the bolt over in his hand, carefully examining it before looking back at Hatcher.
‘The bloody firing pin’s cracked,’ he had said with genuine surprise, thinking it was an act.
‘Is that a fact,’ Hatcher growled sarcastically.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Early said edgily. ‘It worked fine this morning, I test-fired the piece myself.’
‘Wonderboy and I could both be dead right now because of that weapon.’
‘I’m sorry, okay? You think I wanted you to miss the cat?’ Early said. ‘Hell, that’s ridiculous, how could I have known you would get the kill shot?’
‘You’re being paranoid, Hatcher,’ said Earp.
‘Yeah,’ said Riker. ‘If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.’
Having reacted with more passion than was his custom, Hatcher had shut up and now he sat alone deep in thought. He did not see Wonderboy approach him from the side of the house.
‘Mr. Hatcher?’ he said. ‘It is Hatcher, isn’t it?’ The musician, who had repaired his streaked face with fresh paint, stood against the wall of the house with his hands in his pockets.
‘That’s right,’ the whispering man croaked.
‘You saved my life,’ Wonder boy said. ‘And I, uh don’t know how to thank you. But I want you to know nobody was out to get you.’
‘You’d have done the same for me,’ said Hatcher. ‘No, no,’ Wonderboy said, shaking his head. ‘I choked, man. It wasn’t just that I was scared, I couldn’t pull the trigger,’
‘
Did that ever happen before?’
Wonderboy stared off at the dead tiger from behind his mask, and after a few seconds he nodded.
‘So forget it,’ said Hatcher. ‘You can live forever without ever touching another gun.’
‘That isn’t it.’
‘Then, what is it?’
Wonderboy took his hands out of his pockets. He wrapped them around his chest, hugging himself as if he were cold.
‘Survival.’
‘Survival,’ Hatcher repeated flatly.
‘Hell, if it ain’t one war, it’s another.’
‘You won’t have to go to any more wars, Wonderboy.’
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how you thank someone who’s saved your life. The Japanese have a word for it, but I don’t remember what it is.’
‘Ongaeshi,’ Hatcher said.
‘Yeah, that’s it. It means, you know, like a big debt.’
‘It means an obligation to repay,’ said Hatcher.
‘Yeah. Well, ongaeshi , Mr. Hatcher.’
Hatcher stepped closer to Wonderboy and leaned against the wall beside him. ‘Would you like to try?’ his hoarse voice asked.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Who is Thai Horse, Wonderboy?’
Wonderboy stared off at the other regulars on the other side of the yard. ‘What’s a Thai Horse?’ he asked, still watching the dancers.
‘Ongaeshi, Wonderboy.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Let’s try another one. Is Murphy Cody alive?’
‘Who?’
‘Murph Cody.’
‘What do you want with him?’ Wonderboy asked. ‘What’d you say his name is?’
‘Cody,’ Hatcher said softly.
‘Yeah, Cody.’
‘I have a message for him.’
‘A message?’
‘That’s all there is to it.’
Wonderboy nodded slowly and, moving away from Hatcher toward the rest of the group and not looking at him, said, ‘Well, if I should run into somebody by that name I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.’
Wonderboy walked away. The dancers had finished their musical drama and were fawning over the regulars. Earp was chatting with the dancer who had portrayed the tiger, and Wonderboy leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. Earp looked over at Hatcher and then, taking the yellow-faced dancer by the arm, led her across the yard to Hatcher.
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