And he’s your friend?
“The best friend Peter and I have.”
I thought you told me he didn’t like whites. Does that mean you’re not really as white as the others?
“Oh, Jagger, you say the funniest things! What he feels about white people as a whole, and the way they think, hasn’t anything to do with us. He’s always liked the Thornberrys. He practically raised Pop, and even lent him money to study medicine.”
As she spoke she had been huddling closer to him in the darkness, and now he was aware that her small body was beginning to sag wearily against him. He did not know the system of timekeeping here, but he guessed that dawn could not be very far away.
You’re not going to get much rest tonight, he told her. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to sleep till Peter returns?
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly sleep,” she said. “There are too many things to think about.”
What things? he asked, all at once sensing the worries now rising in the back of her mind. Is it missing school tomorrow? You won’t be able to go if you’ve been up all night. Or is it your Aunt Tess that troubles you?
“It’s Aunt Tess,” Nan admitted. “She’s Mrs. Gomez now, and not really my aunt at all. I—I can’t help it, but I’m scared of her. I wouldn’t dare tell her about you. And when she comes back and finds we’ve been out all night, and missed school …”
If she threatens you, just remind her that a big white banshee will come down out of the woods and chase her away. And I will, too!
Nan giggled. “Really?”
I certainly will, as soon as I get my strength back. That shouldn’t take long, for I feel better already. Now forget Mrs. Gomez and try to sleep.
He could feel Nan’s body relaxing against him. Presently her breathing changed, and he knew she was sleeping.
It had upset him badly to realize that both children, by trying to help him, were only adding to their own troubles. Somehow he must manage to repay them. He’d only been joking when he suggested giving the aunt a scare. But it might not be such a bad idea—if it could be managed at just the right time.
Jagger raised his head slightly, testing his returning strength. The food had helped tremendously. He might even be able to stand and take a few steps, though he doubted if he could walk as far as the road.
He started to lower his head, but a distant sound caught his attention. His droopy ear straightened, and he was instantly on the alert. In his weakened condition Jagger found the sound almost frightening. It was the baying of a faraway dog pack following a trail.
The banshee hunt had begun.
Weakness forced Jagger to lower his tiring head, but he kept his ears cocked forward, listening carefully. As nearly as he could estimate, the baying of the pack came from the area where he had fought to save the doe. If the dogs followed the right trail, the one leading to the thicket where he had lain so long, the pack would find him by dawn. But there was a chance they would be diverted by the older trail, which could delay them for the better part of the morning. At any rate there was nothing he could do but wait, and really put his mind into a prayer that Peter and Mr. Rush would come speedily with the truck.
Nan slept on, and he was careful not to waken her. While he listened to the dogs, trying to keep track of their progress, he kept one ear tuned for the sound of a motor. Just what the sound would be like he could only guess, but he suspected it would be a sort of discordant hum, one that could be heard from a distance. When Peter and Nan had spoken of Mr. Rush’s vehicle, he’d gotten only a fleeting mental glimpse of what it was like, but it had been enough to tell him that it wouldn’t be a silent machine like those at home. Anyway, it needed a road to run on.
Suddenly he realized that the blackness had grayed a little and that he could make out the dim forms of the trees around him. Almost in the same breath he heard the truck.
The curious bumping, rattling, earthbound sound of it made him raise his head, and the movement woke Nan. She sat up with a little gasp, then exclaimed, “Oh! I must have been asleep. Do—do you hear anything?”
The truck, he told her.
She listened for a moment. “That’s it! I’d know the sound of it anywhere. It’s old, but he keeps it running perfectly. And he’s just painted it again.”
What color?
“A sort of red—but you can’t see colors, can you?”
Of course I can! What gave you the idea I couldn’t?
“Why, I’d always heard that dogs were color-blind, though I never quite believed it. I’m glad you’re not, because—there they come!” she added, and stood up quickly as the lights of the moving truck swung through the trees. “I’d better go down to the road and show them where to stop.”
He watched her hurry away through the trees, waving her flashlight. The truck came to a halt, and presently he made out the dim forms of Nan and Peter approaching, with the lean shape of Mr. Rush following like a towering shadow.
As the big bronze man with the graying hair knelt beside him, Jagger knew he had found another friend. Though they could not exchange thoughts directly as he could with Nan, still Mr. Rush seemed to feel what he felt and somehow understand him.
“Brother!” There was admiration and wonder in the quiet voice of the bronze man. “What a great one you are! Jagger, I just couldn’t believe it when Peter first told me about you. Then I said to myself, Danta Rush, you’re thinking like a white. So I turned my mind around and thought like a Creek. Then I remembered I am only a trifle in a broad universe, and that all things are possible.”
Suddenly the Indian raised his head. He listened a moment to the distant dog pack. “Wad Purdom’s bear hounds,” he muttered. “Hot on the trail of the great white banshee. We’d better get away from here, fast. But don’t try to walk, Jagger. I’ll carry you to the truck. That’ll break the scent. If we can fool ’em a while …”
Powerful arms lifted Jagger and carried him swiftly through the woods. Despite the Indian’s strength, Danta Rush was breathing heavily by the time his great burden was placed in the rear of the truck and covered with a tarpaulin. Quickly now, without using the lights, the truck was turned around and driven back the way it had come. The forest was still dim, but dawn was streaking the sky with red and gold.
All at once Jagger was aware of a change in the wild sound of the dog pack, which he could hear above the clatter of the truck. It had turned into a frenzied baying. They must have found his hiding place in the thicket and caught his fresh scent leading away from it.
He listened until a confused barking told him the dogs had reached the end of the trail, then he turned his attention to the man who had come just in time to save him. He could not distinguish the words being spoken up front in the cab, but most of the thoughts were clear. Only Peter’s were obscure.
Danta Rush was saying, “I’d better take you two straight home. You’ve got to get some sleep before your aunt returns.”
“But what about Jagger?” Nan asked. “We’ve got to hide him first. In a safe place.”
“Leave Jagger to me,” Danta Rush replied. “I’ll take good care of him. Better tell him to keep his head well under the tarp from now on. There may be hunters on the road. And we don’t want your hired man to see him.”
“The hired man’s not there,” said Nan. “He went over to Georgia to that auction with Aunt Tess and her husband. They won’t be back till this afternoon.”
“That’s good. A dog like our new friend would be rather hard to explain to some people. And Waddley Purdom wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him on sight.”
“But—but why would he do that?” Nan asked.
“Didn’t you know it was one of Wad’s prized bear dogs that Jagger killed the other day?”
“Oh, golly, I didn’t dream—but those dogs were about to kill a doe, and she had a fawn!”
“That wouldn’t make any difference to Wad. His dogs come first. They can do no wrong. He probably doesn’t even guess what stopped his dog, but
if he ever saw Jagger he’d know.”
Jagger, listening in the rear, caught a distorted image of Waddley Purdom that did little to help his uneasiness. He glimpsed a heavy, pear-shaped man with a big jaw, an unpleasant sort of person who was used to ordering other men about. Waddley Purdom, he gathered, owned the biggest ranch in the area.
As the truck swung down out of the forest, he gripped the edge of the tarpaulin between his teeth and pulled it farther over his head, so that he could no longer peer out. Thus it was that he missed seeing Thornberry Farm, and caught only the scent of hay in the barn they stopped near, and the odd smell of strange animals that whinnied at Nan and Peter as they tumbled from the cab.
“They’re horses,” Nan told him sleepily, in response to his question. “We raise them here. Don’t they have horses where you came from?”
Only a very few, he told her, after he had caught the vision of them from her mind. He realized that the Palamedes she had mentioned earlier must be a horse, a very favored one. They are so rare they are kept only on the main reserve, with a guardian like myself to look after them. I’d certainly like to see one.
In spite of his weakness his curiosity was so great that he raised his head and started to thrust it from the tarpaulin, but as he did so, he caught the roar of motors over on the main road. They were approaching at high speed. He hesitated, listening. The sound changed, and abruptly he realized the vehicles had left the road and were now coming up the farm’s driveway.
Jagger heard Danta Rush give a little grunt of dismay. At the same moment Nan cried out, “Oh, Jagger, be careful! Some cars are coming, and one of them belongs to that Mr. Tanner who shot you.”
Jagger hastily retreated under the tarpaulin. He heard the squeal of brakes as the cars were brought to an abrupt stop. Then the rasping voice of Big Joe Tanner called out, “Where’s everybody around here?”
Peter said, “They’ve all gone to that big Georgia auction.”
Big Joe swore. Suddenly he rapped out, “Rush, how come you ain’t helping us on the banshee hunt? Didn’t you git Mr. Purdom’s message?”
“I’m not a hunter, Joe.”
“Thought you Indians jest lived to hunt!”
“No, we’ve hunted only to live. There’s a slight difference.”
“Well, daggummit, you better forgit the difference an’ lend us a hand. Them bear dogs done chased the varmint clean around the ridge, but they’ve lost the trail an’ we figger the thing’s making for the high country. We aim to head it off with my pack, but we ain’t got near enough men to make a line. Go git your gun an’ meet us up at the north bridge.”
“Sorry, Joe. I’ve bees to take care of, among other things.”
Jagger, listening, was aware of a sudden cold silence following Danta Rush’s refusal. There were several cars containing men and dogs. He could hear the eager whining of the dogs, then a low muttering among the men.
Joe Tanner swore again. “Mr. Purdom, he likes folks to come when he calls. He ain’t going to take kindly to you turning ’im down.” He paused, then asked suspiciously, “Rush, what in tarnation you got hid under that tarp?”
Before Danta Rush could reply, Peter said quickly, “Careful, Mr. Tanner! I wouldn’t touch it if I were you. It’s a sick dog, and I’m afraid he’s dying of rabies—if he isn’t dead already. At least I hope it’s rabies. From the symptoms, it could be something worse.”
“What?”
“That’s right,” Nan added, in a voice that was low and terribly serious. “If it’s anthrax, it could kill all the horses. Mr. Rush is taking it away so it won’t infect the ground.”
“Good Lord!” Joe Tanner gasped. “If it’s anthrax, this whole daggone place oughta be quarantined. Let’s get away from here, men!”
FOUR He Encounters Evil
All the way back on the timber road to Danta Rush’s place, Jagger was in a state of mild shock over what had happened. Nan and Peter, by their quick thinking, had saved him from discovery. If he had been found, there would have been trouble—a great deal of it, to judge by what he’d heard. But to avoid it the children had been forced to invent a shattering untruth, and use it to deceive. That was the astonishing and shocking thing.
Yet, he asked himself, what else could they have done? At home, of course, where everyone’s thoughts were clear, no one would have dreamed of even trying to deceive. It just wasn’t their way. Nor would anyone have placed another in a position where deception was necessary. But in this strange and frightening world, where killing seemed to be done for both pleasure and profit, only rare persons like Nan could tell what another thought. He wished he could talk to her about it, but he made no attempt to call her. She needed rest, and he knew she would be sound asleep the moment she closed her eyes.
The truck stopped after a short ride, and he heard Danta Rush get out. The tarpaulin was drawn aside, and the bronze man said, “Here we are, my friend. Before I take you inside, there’s something important I must do. I’ll be right back.”
Jagger raised his great head and peered curiously around. The truck was parked under a huge old tree that shaded a small brown cottage with a wide porch and a stone chimney. On the other side of the cottage, beneath more large trees, he glimpsed a row of hives. Beyond the hives lay a garden and an orchard. The morning sun gleamed brilliantly on leaves that were beginning to turn scarlet and gold.
Suddenly to his nostrils came the pleasant and very familiar smells of woodsmoke and beeswax, and he thought longingly of home. There was even the low clucking of hens from an unseen chicken yard to remind him of Elder Norfo’s cottage, which was not unlike this one except that it was built of stone. Homesickness swept over him like a wave, and he could not restrain a whimper of pure misery.
At that moment Danta Rush appeared from around the side of the cottage with a glass jug in one hand. “What’s the matter, fellow?” the Indian asked. “Are you in pain?”
Jagger gave his head a slight sideways movement.
Danta Rush peered at him intently with black eyes that were all at once soft and understanding. “No, it is not physical pain. It is the heart that suffers, and that is worse. You are far from home, and lost. It is a terrible feeling. My people knew it well. Some died when they were driven from home and could not return.”
The Indian put a comforting arm about his shoulder. “I don’t know how you got here, but there must be a way to get back. So just remember you have friends, and that we’re going to help you all we can. Understand?”
Jagger nodded, and thumped his tail to show his gratitude.
“Good fellow!” Danta Rush said approvingly. “How I wish I could talk to you the way Nan does. Still, maybe we can work out a system. But first I want to rub something on you. Do you know what it is?”
The Indian had taken the cap from the jug, and now Jagger caught the strong, familiar reek of turpentine. Again he nodded.
“So they have pine trees where you came from,” the other said quietly, puzzled. “Interesting. Yours must be a world considerably like this one. But I’ll bet turpentine was never used by your people to hide a scent. I’m going to rub it over you, especially your feet, and after I’ve taken you into the house I’ll come back and go over the truck with it. I wish I’d had the sense to take the stuff with me earlier.”
Jagger looked intently at Danta Rush, and thought, Do you believe the banshee hunters will come by here with their dogs?
“Are you asking if I think Wad Purdom will come here looking for you?” said the Indian, pouring some turpentine on his hands and beginning the rubdown. “Yes, I do. Later, when his dogs can’t find your scent anywhere. He’ll circle, and finally he’ll get down to the road and see everyone’s footprints, and the spot where the truck turned around. Then he’ll guess what happened. So he’s bound to come here and ask questions.”
The rubdown finished, Jagger was lifted from the truck, carried into the cottage and placed carefully beside the hearth, where a fire still smoldered. The Indian went b
ack outside, and Jagger peered curiously about at the neat room with its handmade furniture and the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books. The sight of so many books brought a sudden pang, for they made him think again of Elder Norfo. The Elder had books all over the place, on about every subject you could name. Jagger was eyeing the shelves, wondering what sort of things interested a man like Danta Rush, when he realized he was being watched.
It gave him a sudden shock to discover the creature standing in what seemed to be the doorway to the kitchen. Ordinarily he would have been aware of it the moment he had been brought into the room, but the turpentine had momentarily ruined his sense of smell, and the creature had appeared without making the least sound.
He knew it was a cat, though never in his life had he seen one like it. All the cats of his acquaintance, even the smaller spotted ones, were fierce killers that could make off with a full-grown sheep. This sleek little creature was hardly larger than a rabbit. It was a beautiful tortoiseshell with golden eyes.
Jagger stared at it in amazement. He was even more amazed when it raised its fur, so that it appeared twice its size, and abruptly hissed at him.
You have no right to be here, the cat told him, its thoughts vibrating with hate and jealousy. This is my home!
I am only a visitor, Jagger replied. I will leave as soon as I am able to walk.
The golden eyes glared at him, and Jagger added diplomatically, You are very beautiful. One so beautiful must be greatly loved.
Golden Eyes lowered her hackles and became sleek again. Her baleful stare turned to one of curiosity. I despise dogs, she said, but I forgive you for being one. You are so big and different. Slowly she came over and touched noses with him.
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