Escape to Witch Mountain (9 page)

Tony wiped it carefully on his sleeve, and placed it to his lips. In the corner behind the two men he saw an umbrella and a broken-down broom; and near them a raincoat hanging on a hook. With his eye on the broom he breathed lightly into the harmonica, and saw the broom handle rise a few inches beside the raincoat. He allowed it to settle back into place, and in turn moved an ashtray on the desk and a small pebble beyond the open door. He could have shifted all these objects without the aid of the harmonica, but somehow the music seemed to give him power. With its help he'd sometimes felt he could move great weights he couldn't have budged with his bare hands.

Ben Purdy said impatiently, “Come on, boy; I'm waitin' to hear you talk.”

Tony slid the harmonica into his pocket. “All right, but I said you won't believe it. Tia and I are running away from a man who says he's our uncle, but who isn't. His name is Deranian. He's got a man helping him—I don't know who he is, but he may be the one you talked to in Washington, who calls himself Karman. The reason we came here is because we've a relative living down here somewhere. We're not sure of his name, but it's something like Caroway, or Castaway.” Tony stopped and wearily rubbed his hands over his face. He was so tired it was becoming hard to keep his eyes open. “That's about all,” he added, “except that the Government doesn't want us for anything.”

The men looked at him silently for a moment, then glanced at each other. Finally the short man spat irritably on the floor. “Pshaw, anybody could tell a better one than that. If you're so innocent, how come they're paying a big reward for you?”

“And not only that,” said the mayor, “but if Washington doesn't want you, how'd you happen to know about Karman? I'm sure, young feller, we never spoke that name in front of you.”

“I heard you talking about him after you locked us up.”

“Not through that closed door you didn't.”

Tony shrugged. “My hearing's better than you think.”

Ben Purdy said, “We're tired o' lies. You gonna answer our questions, boy?”

“I've answered them.”

“What you need is a good licking. I got a mind—”

“Easy, Ben,” the mayor cautioned him. “You know the law. Better lock 'im up and let Washington worry about 'im.”

Back in his cell, Tony climbed to the upper bunk again and peered out of the narrow barred window. Since the window faced the west, the direction they would have to take to reach the Kozak place, his only interest at the moment was to pick an escape route. But he had not counted on seeing, for the first time in his life, a vast sweep of country that spread before him like a great beautiful park.

He gaped. Ahead were rolling pastures and mounting green hills that rose higher and higher until they merged into a shimmering curtain of blue that topped the clouds. It was a strange and marvelous world, and he wanted suddenly to get out in it and feel the grass under his feet, and smell and touch and know the wonder of it all.

Then he remembered what he had to do, and tried to fix in his mind the easiest way over the hills. Looking closer, he realized the police station was on the edge of a hill, for below him the ground dropped away to a brushy ravine with a creek at the bottom. To get away, they would have to cross that creek and climb to what seemed to be a field of corn on the other side of the ravine.

Finally he lay back and closed his eyes.

It seemed he had hardly gone to sleep before someone was shaking him awake. He rolled over and saw Ben Purdy.

“Get up, boy. It's time we had a little talk.”

Tony chilled as a square hand closed like a vise around his wrist and he was hauled into the office. He realized unhappily that it was late in the afternoon, and that he had slept far longer than he had intended. If only he'd woken up earlier, he and Tia might be hurrying over the hills by now. For surely there must have been moments when Ben Purdy was away from the place…

“Like I said earlier,” the short man began, “what you need is a good licking.” He took something from a desk drawer and slapped it lightly across his hand. It was a short piece of rubber tubing. “Now, son, I want an answer to them questions we asked you earlier.”

Tony ran his tongue over dry lips. The time had come to leave, but how was he going to manage it? He glanced at the outer door. It was closed, and probably locked. But the window beside it was open and he could see the pebbles and debris in the lot outside.

Suddenly he called to Tia, then drew his harmonica from his pocket. At the first note a pebble rose from the path and shot toward the window. He directed it poorly and it flew too high and smashed the glass. Even so, it had the desired effect of diverting the chief's attention.

Lips compressed, Ben Purdy turned quickly to the window and looked out. Muttering, he spun about at a sound behind him, and stiffened as he saw Tia hurrying from the cell area.

“How—how'd you get in here?” the chief said hoarsely. “So help me, get back in there where you belong!”

Tia ignored him and ran across the room, following Tony's orders. She jerked open the outer door, then darted to the cabinet
where their things were locked. Ben Purdy tried to catch her, but the ashtray rose threateningly from the desk and struck him, and he found his way barred by the broom and the raincoat, which were no longer where they had been. The broom was suddenly clothed by the raincoat, which waved its empty sleeves as if invisible arms were inside.

In Ben Purdy's paling face anger and disbelief were swiftly giving way to panic. Abruptly he lunged to the desk and tried to pull open one of the drawers. Guessing he was after a weapon, Tony blew a shuddering darkness into the harmonica; from it poured a wildness and a wailing, a terrible beat of sound that sent the raincoated broom leaping and whirling around the desk like something possessed. It became a live thing, a thing of madness, a whirling scourge that tore about the place scattering everything before it. The short man retreated from it in horror until he was forced into a corner. He cringed there, petrified.

Tia, with her bag and star box, ran outside. Swiftly Tony got his own things from the cabinet and started to follow. On the threshold he stopped, for Tia was not going where he had told her. She was racing for the bear cage.

“Hey!” he called in dismay. “There isn't time!”

“I've
got
to free them,” she flung at him. “
No
one has
any right
to lock up poor animals and treat them so horribly. Hold that awful man back a little longer.”

Reluctantly, Tony sent the broom and the raincoat whirling again on their ghoulish dance.

The gray-faced man in the corner stared at him with stricken eyes. He managed to gasp, “You—you two ain't human. Wha— what are you?” He gulped and spat hoarsely, “
Witches!
That's what you are—
witches! “

Tony groaned inwardly. We've really cooked it this time, he thought. Nothing, he realized, would ever be the same for Tia and himself again. What they'd done here today would be told over and over again, for all the world to hear.

He glanced in the direction of the bear cage, and abruptly caught up his bag and ran.

T
he freeing of the bears was causing a much greater commotion than Tony had counted on. Two cars full of summer tourists had stopped at the filling station, and a half dozen people were approaching the cage as Tia reached it and began tugging at the rusty padlocks on the door.

The attendant saw her and yelled, but Tia paid no attention to him. When the door came open, tourists scattered. Women screamed. In seconds there was a traffic jam in front of the station as drivers braked to gawk at two momentarily bewildered black bears being urged away by a thin girl with pale hair. Then awkwardly but swiftly, one on either side of her, the bears began to run for the brushy ravine at the edge of town.

Tony waited at the far corner of the police station until Tia was safely down the slope before he pocketed his harmonica and hastened after her. Long before he reached the muddy creek at the bottom he was aware of rising excitement in the town. Men were running, calling to each other, questioning, and twice he heard Ben Purdy's voice, hoarsely trying to explain what had happened.

He lost sight of Tia in the brush, but found her waiting uncertainly by the creek. Beyond her the bears were standing half submerged in midstream, drinking thirstily while they cooled off. Winkie sat watching on the bank.

“Which way do we go, Tony?”

“Follow the creek,” he told her. “A little farther on we'll have to cross it and climb to a cornfield. Get going—they may be starting after us soon!”

He didn't think Ben Purdy would be in a great hurry to follow them; unless, of course, he got someone to help. But you never could tell. Money was everything to some people, and a portion of the reward was enough to make even the mayor overlook a few points.

There was a faint trail bordering the creek, apparently made by fishermen. They were racing along it when he heard sounds behind them. Glancing back, he saw the two bears approaching.

“Do we have to have those—those
friends
of yours with us?” he panted.

“They won't bother you,” Tia assured him.

“Don't be a dope! Bears are bears! Who said they won't bother us?”

“
They
did, of course.”

“Huh? Since when could you understand bear talk?”

“It's simple enough, Tony. If you have any
real
feeling for animals, you know exactly how
they
feel, and that's practically the same as being able to
talk
to them. Can't you see they love us?”

“No, I can't,” he muttered. It was all right for Tia to be that way—she could probably get along fine with a man-eating tiger. But he wasn't Tia.

The creek widened in a stony area; Tony stopped to study it, and saw the bears wheel and splash across through the shallows. It was as if they knew this was the best way to the cornfield. Quickly he drew off his shoes and socks and followed. Tia waded behind him, carrying Winkie. The creek felt wonderfully cool to their feet. As there was still no sign of pursuit, they paused briefly at the farther bank to bathe their hot faces and gulp satisfying draughts of the muddy
water. Tia commented that they probably would die of typhoid. “But it sure
tastes
good,” she added. “If we only had something to
eat
… Tony, didn't you buy some candy bars this morning?”

“Yeah, but we'd better save 'em till later. We can't reach Kozak's place tonight. It's too far. Anyhow, it looks as if it might rain soon. Let's get going—we've got to find a place to keep dry.”

The bears, he saw, had vanished up a long gully leading out of the ravine. He led the way upward through the brush and they came out at a corner of the cornfield. Here the big, gaunt animals had pulled down several stalks and were happily feeding on the yellow ears.

With an uneasy glance at them, Tony turned left and began hurrying along the edge of the field. Ahead, over the crest of the hill, he could see dark clouds that now hid the mountains and the lowering sun. Even so, the heat seemed almost worse than it had been all day.

“Do you suppose raw corn would hurt us?” Tia said. “I'm so
hungry.
”

He plucked two ears and shucked them, and they nibbled at them experimentally as they hastened over the hill. They hadn't eaten since daylight and he was surprised to discover how good the fresh kernels tasted. Before they left the field, he plucked several more ears to carry with them.

On the other side of the hill they scrambled through a strip of woods, and suddenly found their way barred by a barbed wire fence. Directly ahead, across a pasture full of grazing cattle, was a cluster of farm buildings and a barn lot where men were at work.

In his ignorance of the country Tony hadn't counted on such obstacles as farmyards, and pastures of cattle with uncertain dispositions to force him from his course. To reach a safe area and avoid being seen, they had to circle entirely around the farm. By this
time all the sky had darkened and thunder was beginning to roll ominously overhead.

They reached another barbed wire fence, crawled under it, and were hurrying across the narrow field beyond when the first cold drops began to fall. Abruptly lightning split the sky. Tia had been carrying Winkie, and now the little cat leaped from her grasp and streaked away in fright. Tony looked wildly around for some sign of shelter, but saw only the patch of woods ahead. He began to run.

“This way!” Tia cried. “Follow Winkie!”

They raced around the edge of the woods where the pasture curved. Winkie must have been able to smell a mouse haven, for tucked in the corner at the far end of the pasture was a small hay barn.

They barely managed to reach it before the black skies opened and a fury of driving rain hid the world around them.

It was still pouring when darkness came, but Tony did not mind. They'd eaten the rest of the corn and a candy bar apiece, and finally they'd burrowed comfortably down into the warmth of the hay, for it had turned surprisingly cold after so much heat.

He had lost all sense of direction, and in the intense darkness he could not even see Tia a few feet away. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, he suddenly found it very pleasant to be here. This was so different from anything he'd ever known. No one had told him that new hay could smell as sweet as this, or that a rainy night could be so full of mystery. For a while he listened to the sounds around him: the beat of rain on the roof, the scurrying of mice, the faint rustling of Winkie's feet in the hay as he hunted; and once a vague, soft flapping in the rafters overhead that may have been an owl.