belonged to him -- and there weren't any more of them, anywhere in the world. His plan had worked
He hurried down the street toward his own house, as fast as he could run.
He found an old cage out in the garage he had once kept white rats in. He cleaned it and carried it upstairs to his room. He spread papers on the floor of the cage and fixed a water dish and some sand.
When the cage was ready he emptied the contents of the cigar box into it.
The nine tiny figures huddled together in the center of the cage, a little bundle of pink. Tommy shut the door of the cage and fastened it tightly. He carried the cage to the dresser and then drew a chair up by it so he could watch.
The nine little people began to move around hesitantly, exploring the cage. Tommy's heart beat with rapid excitement as he watched them.
He had got them away from Mr Billings. They were his, now. And Mr Billings didn't know where he lived or even his name.
They were talking to each other. Moving their antennae rapidly, the way he had seen ants do. One of the little people came over to the side of the cage. He stood gripping the wire, peering out into the room. He was joined by another, a female. They were naked. Except for the hair on their heads they were pink and smooth.
He wondered what they ate. From the big refrigerator in the kitchen he took some cheese and some hamburger, adding crumbled up bits of bread and lettuce leaves and a little plate of milk.
They liked the milk and bread. But they left the meat alone. The lettuce leaves they used to begin the making of little huts.
Tommy was fascinated. He watched them all the next morning before school, then again at lunch time, and all afternoon until dinner.
"What you got up there?" his Dad demanded, at dinner.
"Nothing."
"You haven't got a snake, have you?" his Mom asked apprehensively. "If you have another snake up there, young man --"
"No." Tommy shook his head, bolting down his meal. "It's not a snake."
He finished eating and ran upstairs.
The little creatures had finished fixing their huts out of the lettuce leaves. Some were inside. Others were wandering around the cage, exploring it.
Tommy seated himself before the dresser and watched. They were smart. A lot smarter than the white rats he had owned. And cleaner. They used the sand he had put there for them. They were smart -- and quite tame.
After awhile Tommy closed the door of the room. Holding his breath he unfastened the cage, opening one side wide. He reached in his hand and caught one of the little men. He drew him out of the cage and then opened his hand carefully.
The little man clung to his palm, peering over the edge and up at him, antennae waving wildly.
"Don't be afraid," Tommy said.
The little man got cautiously to his feet. He walked across Tommy's palm, to his wrist. Slowly he climbed Tommy's arm, glancing over the side. He reached Tommy's shoulder and stopped, gazing up into his face.
"You're sure small," Tommy said. He got another one from the cage and put the two of them on the bed. They walked around the bed for a long time. More had come to the open side of the cage and were staring cautiously out onto the dresser. One found Tommy's comb. He inspected it, tugging at the teeth. A second joined him. The two tiny creatures tugged at the comb, but without success.
"What do you want?" Tommy asked. After a while they gave up. They found a nickel lying on the dresser. One of them managed to turn it up on end. He rolled it. The nickel gained speed, rushing toward the edge of the dresser. The tiny men ran after it in consternation. The nickel fell over the side.
"Be careful," Tommy warned. He didn't want anything to happen to them. He had too many plans. It would be easy to rig up things for them to do -- like fleas he had seen at the circus. Little carts to pull. Swings, slides. Things they could operate. He could train them, and then charge admission.
pull. Swings, slides. Things they could operate. He could train them, and then charge admission.
The next day he took one to school in his pocket, inside a fruit jar. He punched holes in the lid so it could breathe.
At recess he showed it to Dave and Joan Grant. They were fascinated.
"Where did you get it?" Dave demanded.
"That's my business."
"Want to sell it?"
"It's not it. It's him."
Jean blushed. "It doesn't have anything on. You better make it put clothes on right away."
"Can you make clothes for them? I have eight more. Four men and four women."
Joan was excited. "I can -- if you'll give me one of them."
"The heck I will. They're mine."
"Where did they come from? Who made them?"
"None of your business."
Joan made little clothes for the four women. Little skirts and blouses. Tommy lowered the clothing into the cage. The little people moved around the heap uncertainly, not knowing what to do.
"You better show them," Joan said.
"Show them? Nuts to you."
"I'll dress them." Joan took one of the tiny women from the cage and carefully dressed her in a blouse and skirt. She dropped the figure back in. "Now let's see what happens."
The others crowded around the dressed woman, plucking curiously at the clothing. Presently they began to divide up the remaining clothes, some taking blouses, some skirts.
Tommy laughed and laughed. "You better make pants for the men. So they'll all be dressed."
He took a couple of them out and let them run up and down his arms.
"Be careful," Joan warned. "You'll lose them. They'll get away."
"They're tame. They won't run away. I'll show you." Tommy put them down onto the floor. "We have a game. Watch."
"A game?"
"They hide and I find them."
The figures scampered off, looking for places to hide. In a moment none were in sight. Tommy got down on his hands and knees, reaching under the dresser, among the bedcovers. A shrill squeak. He had found one.
"See? They like it." He carried them back to the cage, one by one. The last one stayed hidden a long time. It had got into one of the dresser drawers, down in a bag of marbles, pulling the marbles over its head.
"They're clever," Joan said. "Wouldn't you give me even one of them?"
"No," Tommy said emphatically. "They're mine. I'm not letting them get away from me. I'm not giving any of them to anybody."
Tommy met Joan after school the next day. She had made little trousers and shirts for the men.
"Here." She gave them to him. They walked along the sidewalk. "I hope they fit."
"Thanks." Tommy took the clothes and put them in his pocket. They cut across the vacant lot. At the end of the lot Dave Grant and some kids were sitting around in a circle, playing marbles.
"Who's winning?" Tommy said, stopping.
"I am," Dave said, not looking up.
"Let me play." Tommy dropped down. "Come on." He held out his hand. "Give me your agate."
Dave shook his head. "Get away."
Tommy punched him on the arm. "Come on! Just one shot." He considered. "Tell you what --"
A shadow fell over them.
Tommy looked up. And blanched.
Tommy looked up. And blanched.
Tommy got slowly to his feet. Silence had fallen over the children. Some of them scrambled away, snatching up their marbles.
"Whaft do you want?" Tommy demanded. His voice was dry and husky, almost inaudible.
Billings's cold eyes bored into him, two keen orbs, without warmth of any kind. "You took them. I want them back. Right away." His voice was hard, colorless. He held out his hand. "Where are they?"
"What are you talking about?" Tommy muttered. He backed away. "I don't know what you mean."
"The Project. You stole them from my room. I want them back."
"The heck I did. What do you mean?"
Billings turned toward Dave Grant. "He's the one you meant, isn't he?"