Then Abe Zook was there. He had a lantern in his hand and he moved nearly as quickly as had the owl. Setting down the lantern, he put his heavy boot on the owl's free foot, holding it to the dirt floor. With both hands he tried to loose the deadly grasp of the other foot but he could not move the back talon. The bird seemed clamped onto the boy for good, its foot locked into place like a bulldog's jaws. Zook managed to work the forefinger of his right hand under the curve of the talon where it entered the flesh, and with his left hand pulled loose the shorter "finger" talons, which were not nearly so powerful. Then, bracing himself, he pried the owl's foot open, using the full strength of his shoulder muscles. Slowly, the rear talon was pulled out of the bloody flesh and Billy rolled away, moaning and sobbing.
"Get out of here!" Zook snapped and Billy crawled through the open door, holding the wrist of his injured hand, half hysterical with the shock of the encounter. As soon as he was out, Zook released the bird, which lay on its back, wings spread and legs bent up against its breast, ready to strike again. The old man picked up the lantern and followed the boy, securing the door after him.
Wasser was anxiously jumping on Billy, puzzled but wishing to be helpful. "Get away from me!" Billy gasped, and pushing the hound away, ran for the house. A kerosene lamp was burning on the table and by its light, he examined his hand. The "finger talons" had left some ugly gouges in his flesh but they were nothing to the mark in the back of his hand where the great rear talon had gone in. The hole looked as though it had been made by a tenpenny nail, yet there was little blood. Billy sucked at the hole and managed to draw a few drops. Then Zook came in. He blew out the lantern and walked over to the boy.
"Better to let me see," he said. Billy held out the hand. Holding the boy's wrist with his cracked, thin fingers, Zook turned it to the light.
"It hurts," said Billy unnecessarily.
"It will hurt more when the feeling comes back to your hand," said Zook grimly. He walked along under one of the beams and took down one of the herbs. "Soldier's herb, so you must a wounded soldier be," he said more cheerfully.
"Will it hurt?"
"No, no, it will take away the pain a little. It is only lance leaf." He made a poultice of the leaves and bound them in place with a strip of cloth he tore from an old shirt. "Now I will make you some medicine so you will sleep."
Billy looked at his hand. It was swelling alarmingly. Blood was seeping from under the poultice. He watched Abe Zook take a tightly packed, gummy substance from a small jar and mix it with honey. Zook held out a spoonful of the mixture and said, "Eat!"
Billy ate. His hand and whole arm throbbed so agonizingly that he did not care what the stuff was if it would stop the pain.
"Now you will sleep," said Zook. He picked up the boy with surprising gentleness and carried him to a bed in one corner of the room. Billy was feeling dizzy. He said sleepily, "I was only trying to help the owl."
"Of that we will talk later," said Zook, feeling the arm. "I will put some wet bandages on that. It makes the swelling less."
"Are you still going to sell the owl?" asked Billy.
The old man looked at him in astonishment. "You are the stubborn one. After this, I am thinking you want me to shoot that owl."
"I've been thinking about it. I got too close to him and he was only trying to defend himself. With an animal, Mr. Bryant calls it 'fear biting,' but that owl used his foot."
"Maybe that Mr. Bryant is not as big a fool as I been thinking. He knows something."
"You won't sell the owl then?"
The old man did not answer for a time until the boy repeated the question. "No, I won't sell him. I am thinking that maybe you earned that owl. I will show you how to train him to hunt for you."
Sleepy as he was, the boy opened his eyes. "Can you train an owl?"
"Yes, but now do not fight sleep. Let it take you."
Billy felt as though he were floating over the bed. Again, he seemed to be two persons. One was a sick boy with an aching arm lying on the bed, friendless and miserable. The other was free and happy, for nothing could touch him. He wondered which was the real him. Now he was flying through the woods with the owl beside him. They could talk to each other and the owl was saying that it was sorry it had hurt him. By moving his body slightly he could glide between the branches, while going at full speed, and the owl could barely keep pace with him. Then he remembered nothing more.
When he awoke he felt cold and his arm ached. He sat up and felt for an extra cover, but there was none. He was feverish and he thought of the sweet, ice-cold water in the springhouse. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted a drink of that water. Zook had taken off his shoes but he did not try to find them. In his stocking feet he crossed the floor and pushed open the door.
It was very dark outside, for the moon had set, and he could not see even the shape of the springhouse, but he knew the direction. He crossed the lawn, the chill of the damp grass soaking through his stockings, stumbling over tree roots and stepping on an occasional stone.
Everything seemed different in the darkness. The trees had twisted themselves into humanlike shapes and whenever the boy stopped to make sure of his way, he heard soft rustling around him as though countless little creatures were edging nearer and nearer. He began to feel panicky and yet he had sense enough not to run. He called, "Wasser!" but the dog did not come.
From behind the tree trunks, eyes were watching him. He knew it, and yet when he looked at them directly they vanished. The morning breeze was rising and as it increased, he could hear more and more clearly the patter of light feet among the bushes. They were closing in to cut him off from the house. He hesitated, wondering whether to turn and make a dash for it.
Then it came. He knew at once what the sound was— the dead calling for the living. A long, eerie howl went up, followed by mad laughter. There was not just one of the things, there were many of them and their gloating cries came from all sides. Instantly came the answering bellow of Wasser's great voice as the bloodhound came racing up.
Billy turned and flew back toward the house. Ahead he saw the door thrown open and the figure of Abe Zook. He pushed the man aside and dove into the room.
Zook lit the lamp. He said, "I heard them. It is the werewolffen. I must go to help Wasser. Are you all right?"
Billy gasped, "I thought they had me for sure." Zook took down the shotgun, opened the breech to make sure it was loaded, and left saying, "You will be safe here. They dare not come where there is wolfsbane." Billy fell on his bed and lay there panting. His arm was hurting again, but he scarcely felt it. He had only one thought: to escape from this uncanny place and return to the city. Even his stepfather was better than this life.
TWO
The boy was awakened the next morning by the crowing of the cocks, the rattle of the guinea fowl, and the mooing of the cows. Billy covered his head with a blanket and rolled over. Even so, he could still hear the noises and he wondered how he had ever thought of the country as a quiet place. His arm was throbbing but the pain was bearable; the herb poultice had drawn out some of the inflammation. Unable to sleep, he rolled off the bed and managed to pull on his shoes, even though he had trouble using his right hand.
A Dutch hood, like a cupped hand, extended from over the fireplace into the room. Two red benches covered with gaudy designs stood on either side of the fireplace facing each other, their high backs just touching the bottom of the hood, so a nook was formed in front of the fireplace that was almost a room within the room. Still half-asleep, the boy headed for the nook, the cold of the cabin hitting him like a wet towel flipped across his face. In the shelter of the nook he sat down on one of the benches, as close to the fireplace as possible. Only a wisp of blue smoke rose from the big back log, but the bricks of the fireplace still retained the warmth of the last night's fire.
He heard Abe Zook's bed creak as the old man got up. The braucher was wearing an old-fashioned nightshirt, the first Billy had ever seen. Zook threw som
e birch twigs on the embers and then, picking up an old leather bellows, nursed the coals into a blaze.
Zook straightened up with an effort. "I creak a little in the mornings," he explained good-naturedly. "But then I am old. The doctors would like to know what is keeping me alive—and they will after I am dead, unless my many friends guard my grave. How is the arm making?"
"It doesn't feel too good."
"That is to be expected. The great horned owl is the tiger of the woods. Maybe even Wasser's jaws are not as strong as his grip. Let us see once."
Billy held out his hand and Zook gently removed the bandage. "Ach, I thought to see it much worse. You are young and your body heals quickly. If your brains were as good as your flesh, how good you would be! With dogs it is the same. If we could only put old noses on young legs, not even the werewolffen could avoid a good hound."
"Was that really the werewolffen I heard last night?"
"What else would it be? They cry like that to tease Wasser and perhaps me also. It is all very funny—to a werewolf. Now I put on a fresh poultice."
"Are they real wolves?"
"Perhaps not as big as a real wolf, but big enough for a small boy or an old man—or even Wasser."
"Can they get in here?"
"No, I have wolfsbane over the door." Then seeing the expression on the boy's face, the old man added, "To the house they are never coming. They are creatures of the woods only."
Billy said nothing, for he did not want his uncle to think him a coward, but he could not forget the pure terror he had felt at hearing those voices around him in the darkness. In spite of Abe Zook's assurance, it was still frightening to think of them prowling around the house at night on soundless feet, perhaps rearing up to look through the windows and trying to find some way in to the people sleeping inside. Even in daylight the woods now seemed ominous, and Billy felt he could never go there without wondering what eyes were watching him from the dark thickets. He felt terribly alone, and for the first time missed the noise, bright lights, and crowds of people in the city.
Abe Zook asked suddenly, "Why did you go out last night; was it the owl?"
"I wanted a drink of water."
"There is water in the pitcher there. I was thinking even a city boy is knowing that. I will use some for the poultice."
He rebandaged the arm. "I will milk the cows now and then we eat. You are all right for a while?"
"I guess so."
It seemed to Billy a long time before Zook returned. He held the door open saying, "Here is a friend I am bringing." There was an instant's pause and then Grip paced cautiously into the room.
"Is he still mad at me?" asked Billy.
"He is never mad at anybody who has something to eat, so you can give him some of your breakfast," said Zook, going to the stove. While he was lighting it, Grip marched around the room, turning his head from one side to the other to examine everything first with one eye and then with the other. With a flapping jump he leaped on the table and, going over to the kerosene lamp, pounded on it with his beak.
"Hey, stop that!" shouted Billy in alarm and the bird jumped back with a squawk. "Do you want to break it?"
"Yes, he likes to break things," said Zook without turning around. "It is because he is curious. It makes a pity that the smarter an animal is, the more trouble he does."
"Are the werewolffen smart?"
"The smartest of all and so make the most trouble. They kill for the love of killing. So does Grip, but he cannot kill anything big. The werewolffen can."
"Don't men kill for the love of killing?"
"That is true, and it is because they are smart. They are so smart they are killing off all the animals and soon they will destroy themselves."
"I don't call that being smart."
"Yet it is true. The cleverest men are those who can make devices to wipe out all life. I am not very clever so I live with animals that are not any smarter than I am. Even so, I have trouble with them."
Billy felt a delicate touch at his foot. Looking down he saw that Grip had jumped down from the table and was quietly untying his shoelace. Seeing that he was discovered, the raven hastily backed away before his beak could be pulled, and assuming an air of great innocence, strolled around the room looking in cracks and corners.
"The hens are still laying," said Zook, taking from the pockets of his jacket some eggs, each with a twist of straw wrapped around it to keep it from breaking. "There is also a little butter from the springhouse. The butter won't reach for both of us but we have spreadings anyhow on our bread." From a shelf he took half a loaf of bread and some jars of homemade preserves and going to the table, pushed aside several newly oiled traps. "Farm eggs I make like you never had maybe."
From the rafters, he took down a side of bacon and a string of apples, threaded like beads on a cord. He sliced up two of the apples and, cutting a long slice of the bacon, put them together in a frying pan to cook. The "farm eggs" turned out to consist of cutting the center out of a piece of bread, putting the bread in a frying pan, and then breaking an egg in the central hole. By the time the egg was cooked, the bread had turned to toast.
"Milk we need. It's some fresh in the pail," added the old man, and Billy sat down to the best breakfast he had ever had.
Grip had come over and was pulling at the cuff of Billy's trouser leg. Billy handed him a piece of bacon which the raven accepted gravely and then carried over to a crack in the corner. The bird stuffed the bacon down the crack and returning, pulled the boy's trouser leg for more.
"Look, if you don't eat it, I'm not going to give you any more," protested the boy.
"He is making little caches like that all over," said Abe Zook, who was busy eating. "Call in Wasser and I will show you a mad raven."
Billy went to the door and called, while Grip regarded him suspiciously. When the dog came, Zook waved toward the corner and said, "Find, boy." The dog went to the corner and sniffed around. Instantly Grip went into a hysterical fury, bounding up and down, and screaming with indignation. He ended by pulling the dog's tail so hard that Wasser yelped and turned on him. Grip easily avoided the bloodhound's rush and darting into the corner, grabbed his bacon. With the strip in his beak, he hurried out the door and took off with it.
Billy gave Wasser another piece of bacon. "Tell me more about the werewolffen."
"They are forsaken, outcasts. One is a dog, a female I think. She was tame once, but the other has put his mark on her. He is the werewolf. One night I saw him and he looked at me with yellow eyes in the moonlight. That night I heard the drumming of a drum. In the Revolutionary War, a drummer boy was lost in a storm at Valley Forge. Still he wanders in the night beating his drum. He and the werewolffen hunt together."
"Can I see them?"
"Boy, you are so wrong in the head. Why do you want to see them?"
"I just do. How come if you're a wizard that you haven't got power over them?"
"A wizard I ain't; I am a braucher or powwow man. I do not fear them, for I know the herbs to carry, the spells to say, and the signs to make. Until you learn them, it will be better for you to have a caution when they are about."
Billy remembered the sound of feet closing in on him and the ghostly cries, yet in the daylight the creatures seemed somewhat less terrifying.
"There are only two of them?"
"That is more than plenty." Abe Zook rose. "Well, you did not come here for the eating only. This morning there are herbs to get. How is the hand feeling?"
"It's awful sore and I can't use it too well."
"Do you want to come with me or stay here for once?"
Billy thought a moment and then rose. "I'll go with you. Sitting here won't make my hand feel any better."
"So we will put you to some use. Take this." Abe Zook tossed the boy a large basket, putting another on his own back and slipping his arms through its straps as though carrying a knapsack.
"Can Wasser go too?"
"It is better for him to stay an
d watch the farm."
Abe Zook put some food in his pockets and ran the chains of several traps through his belt. Then he handed the boy a trowel and took one himself.
As they left the house, Grip called to them from the top of the springhouse and Wasser ran up hopefully, but was ordered to remain. The dog obeyed although with wistful eyes and hopeful tail. Billy managed to rub his head before they left.
"We follow the path from the main road off," remarked Zook as they climbed the snake fence. They cut through the woods on a path Billy had never seen and followed it until the woods opened, and they looked across a valley where the morning mist still lay caught by the distant ridges. There were half a dozen widely scattered houses with cows grazing on what was left of the pasture. A long line of black dots straggled across the sky, their flight punctuated by caws. The boy, used to the restrictions of the city, looked with wonder at the scene. He felt as though he could see to the end of the world.
They descended the ridge and picked up a dirt road, now almost covered by dead leaves. Billy amused himself kicking them about and was angrily reprimanded. "Such a shussle! In the woods go quiet. You see more." The boy walked more quietly, looking about him and wanting to ask questions but afraid to talk.
Bordering the road was a field that had long fallen into disuse and was overgrown with weeds. Abe Zook seemed to know the place and kept looking for something, until with a grunt of satisfaction he climbed the rusty barbed wire by an iron fence post and pulled up a weed that stood slightly higher than the others. Billy had followed him and watched while Zook broke open the spiky pods with his trowel, revealing a mass of small brown seeds.
"Thorn apple. Never eat it. It is sure death."
Billy looked at the seeds in awe. "What do you want it for?"
"A farmer wants to get rid of rats. I cook these seeds with some meat and put it down the holes."
Billy looked at him suspiciously. "I never know whether you're fooling or not."
The Healer Page 3