Kneeknock Rise (8 page)

“Exactly,” said Uncle Ott. “Exactly. I see you’ve been reading my verses. I’ve been interested for years in this problem of kings and fools. Now here I am with a perfect example of the question and I really don’t know the answer.” He sat down on the ground beside Annabelle and stared off into the mist, rubbing his chin. “For me it’s always been important to find out the why of things. To try to be wise. But I can’t say it’s ever made me happier. As for those people down below, they’ve had their Megrimum for years and years. And I don’t know as I want to spoil it all for them. There’s always the possibility that they’re happier believing. Kind of a nice idea, this Megrimum.” He stood up and pulled his jacket close around his chest, breathing the mist deeply. “Yes, it’s kind of a nice idea in an odd kind of way,” he said. “Do as you like about it. If I knew what was best, I’d certainly tell you, but the fact is I don’t. Well, come along, Annabelle. Goodbye, Nephew. A pleasure to have seen you.”

He started off and then he paused and stood thinking for a moment. At last he turned and came back. “I’ve just had another thought on the matter,” he said. “It came to me in rhyme. Thoughts often come to me that way—I don’t seem to be able to help it:

“Well, there it is, for what it’s worth. Goodbye.” Uncle Ott smiled and then, with Annabelle wagging at his side, he turned and vanished into the mist.

When his uncle was gone, Egan went back again to the mouth of the cave and stood near the hot steam, listening to the gurgle of the spring and thinking. Then at last he said to himself, “Uncle Ott is pretty foolish after all. They don’t know about this cave. They couldn’t know and act the way they do. They’ll be glad when I tell them the truth.” He smiled. “I
did
slay the Megrimum, in a way. Or at least I’ll slay it now.” He picked up a good-sized rock that lay at the entrance to the cave and heaved it into the mist inside. There was a hollow, heavy clink and at once the gurgling stopped. Egan listened and then he grinned with elated surprise. “That’s a pretty good shot,” he crowed to himself. “That old rock will stop up the hole and there’ll be no more moaning from
this
Megrimum!”

He realized all at once that he was wet to the skin and very hungry. He turned away from the cave and ran through the mist, emerging from its fringes into a cold, clear night. The moon was high and bright and below him the windows of Instep glowed snugly within the winking arc of the visitors’ campfires. He stood looking down, clutching himself with pleasure over the news he was bringing, the great and staggering news. “I’ll be famous,” he whispered breathlessly. “They’ll tell about what I did for years to come.” A twinge of qualifying honesty nudged him and he added, “Of course, Uncle Ott will be famous, too. He came up first. And Annabelle!” He shivered and remembered again that he was wet and hungry. “Egan and Ott and
Ann
-a-belle,” he sang under his breath as he bounded down the side of the Rise toward Instep. “Egan and Ott and
Ann
-a-belle; Annabelle, Egan, and—OOF!” For he had bumped unseeing right into the arms of Uncle Anson.

“Egan! Egan, are you all right? Thank goodness I found you. Nephew—you didn’t go all the way to the top, did you? Where’s the dog?”

“Uncle Anson! Listen, Uncle Anson, listen! I
did
go all the way to the top! And guess who I found! Your brother was up there. Uncle Ott. And listen, Uncle Anson—I went and looked. There’s nothing but a spring up there! A spring in a cave! There isn’t any Megrimum aft—”

But Uncle Anson had clapped his hand over Egan’s mouth. “Hush!” he cried. “Hush now. You’re all excited. Probably coming down with a fever. Look, you’re soaked through. Not another word. Not a peep. I’ll have to get you home right away.” He wrapped one arm firmly around Egan’s shoulder and they started down the slope. Just below them in a clump of trees the lights of other lanterns glowed. “Hello! Hello down there!” called Uncle Anson, hustling Egan along. “I found him. He’s all right. Let’s go home.”

But the rescuers were suddenly crowding around them, holding their lanterns high and peering with relief into Egan’s face. “So you’re safe! Foolish boy—you might have been killed. And think what we risked climbing up to save you!”

“But listen!” cried Egan, twitching out of Uncle Anson’s grasp. “Listen! I went clear up there and looked and there isn’t any Megri—”

“Where’s the dog?” interrupted one of the men. “Anson, didn’t you say he climbed with your brother’s dog? That’s a shame! The Megrimum got the dog, eh?”

“But there isn’t any Me-” Egan began again.

“That boy looks feverish to me, Anson,” said another man. “Better get him home right away. Too bad about the dog, but you’re lucky the boy got away.”

Egan began to shout. “Listen to
me!
I went and
looked
. There
isn’t any Megrimum up there!
”

At once there was total silence. The men stood looking at him, expressionless. He looked back at them and felt a nudge of uncertainty. He said, more quietly, “There never
was
any Megrimum.” The men waited, watching him. “It’s only a spring in a cave,” he finished in a very small voice.

After a long moment, one of the men cleared his throat. “No Megrimum. Well, that’s certainly something. A spring in a cave. Hundreds of years—and no Megrimum.” There was another uncomfortable silence and then they all started talking at once.

“Anson, that boy is feverish.”

“Feverish? He’s
delirious!
Better take him home.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“That’s right—he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

And they turned away and started down the hillside, muttering to themselves.

Uncle Anson sighed and took Egan’s hand. “Let’s go home, Nephew.”

“But look, Uncle Anson,” Egan pleaded. “There really isn’t any Megrimum. Uncle Ott explained it all, all about the spring and the cave and everything. It’s really true!”

Uncle Anson shrugged. “Perhaps. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s go home. It’s been a long day.”

Egan sat on the bench before a blazing fire and sipped at a cup of scalding soup. He was draped with quilts and his feet tingled in a pan of steaming water. He wiggled his toes and sighed, and Uncle Anson, from his chair across the hearth, sighed too. On the floor between them Ada sat hugging her knees, nearly bursting with the questions she had been sternly ordered to keep to herself. Aunt Gertrude, on the bench beside Egan, stretched out cold fingers nervously to the flames. It was very quiet.

Finally Uncle Anson shifted in his chair and spoke. “Are you warmer now, Nephew? Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Egan. “But I felt all right before, too. I don’t have any fever.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Uncle Anson.

And then Egan could contain himself no longer. “I saw what I saw,” he said stubbornly, as if they had all been arguing, “and I don’t see why you won’t believe me.”

Ada, too, erupted. “Tell us what you saw, Egan! Quick! Tell us all about it!”

“Well…” Egan looked toward Uncle Anson.

“All right. Go ahead and tell your story. We might as well have it now.”

“Well!” said Egan again. “I climbed up the Rise and when I got to the mist at the top, Annabelle ran on ahead and I thought she’d found the Megrimum, but when I caught up with her, there was Uncle Ott!”

“Ott?” cried Aunt Gertrude. “Ott at the top of the Rise? And he was safe?”

“Where was the Megrimum?” Ada prodded.

“Uncle Ott was up there all the time,” said Egan. He saw it again in his mind’s eye—the tinted mist, the ghostly trees, and he warmed to his story. “It’s all steamy up there. Uncle Ott said it made his breathing easier.”

“Where was the Megrimum?” asked Ada again, clutching at his quilts.

“Uncle Ott showed me a cave at the top of the Rise,” said Egan. He paused. This was the moment he had been looking forward to. “You should have been there, Ada. Guess what was in the cave!”

“The Megrimum!” cried Ada. “All hairy, with wings and lots of teeth!”

“Wrong!” declared Egan, looking around grandly. Aunt Gertrude was staring at him, quite speechless, her hand to her heart, but Uncle Anson sat with his eyes half closed, studying the fire. “Wrong,” said Egan again, deciding to ignore his uncle. “There was a hole in the ground inside the cave. And a spring.” And he went on to explain the secret as Uncle Ott had explained it to him. “And then,” he finished, “he took Annabelle and he went away down the other side of the Rise.”

When his story was over, there was a long minute of silence. He sat waiting to be called a hero, or a savior, but no one spoke. At last Ada said, “Did you go into the cave to see what was there?”

“No,” said Egan. “It was too hot. But I threw a rock in.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Aunt Gertrude. “He’ll be angry because of that.”

“But there’s nothing up there to get angry,” said Egan. “Don’t you understand?”

“You didn’t go inside the cave, though,” said Ada. “You didn’t really see.”

“No,” Egan began, “but…”

“He didn’t want you to see him!” cried Ada triumphantly. “He hid in the cave in the mist!”

“That’s it of course,” exclaimed Aunt Gertrude with obvious relief. “How clever of you, Ada! And of course he hid from Ott, too. Don’t you think so, Anson?”

“Perhaps,” said Uncle Anson.

Egan was very annoyed. “Look here,” he said loudly. “I went up there and nothing happened to me. Uncle Ott was up there for
days
and nothing happened to him, either. And nothing happened to Annabelle.”

“Maybe not,” said Ada, “but it
could
have. Maybe he didn’t feel like eating anybody just then. Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Maybe you were too skinny. And Uncle Ott and Annabelle were too old and tough.” She giggled.

“That’s enough, Ada,” said Uncle Anson. “Come along; it’s bedtime. We’ll get nowhere arguing like this. The whole thing can’t be proved one way or another, anyway.”

“Yes it can!” cried Egan. “It can be proved!”

“How?” asked Uncle Anson, frowning at him.

“I threw a rock right over that hole in the cave,” said Egan. “Right over it. Wait till it rains again. There won’t be a sound from up there. You’ll see.”

Ada got up from the hearth and opened the door. She peered up at the sky. “The moon’s gone in,” she announced. “There’s a lot of clouds. Maybe it’ll rain again tonight. I hope it does. And then you’ll see, Egan. Won’t he, Papa?”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” said Uncle Anson wearily. “Come along to bed.”