“He’s just a little one,” they said, talking to one another.
They reached out to him and seemed to take him in their arms and hold him tight against them and Johnny went down on his knees without knowing it and held out his arms to the things that lay there among the broken bushes and cried out to them, as if there was something there that he might grasp and hold-some comfort that he had always missed and longed for and now finally had found. His heart cried out the thing that lie could not say, the pleading that would not pass his lips, and they answered him.
“No, we’ll not leave you, Johnny. We can’t leave you, Johnny.”
“You promise?” Johnny asked.
Their voices were a little grim. “We do not need to promise, Johnny. Our machine is broken and we cannot fix it. One of us is dying and the other soon will die.”
Johnny knelt there, with the words sinking into him, with the realization sinking into him, and it seemed more than he could bear that, having found two friends, they were about to die.
“Johnny,” they said to him.
“Yes,” said Johnny, trying not to cry.
“You will trade with us?”
“Trade?”
“A way of friendship with us. You give us something and we give you something.”
“But,” said Johnny. “But I haven’t…
Then he knew he had. He had the pocket knife. It wasn’t much, with its broken blade, but it was all he had.
“That is fine,” they said. “That is exactly right. Lay it on the ground, close to the machine.”
He took the knife out of his pocket and laid it against the machine and even as he watched something happened, but it happened so fast he couldn’t see how it worked, but, anyhow, the knife was gone and there was something in its place.
“Thank you, Johnny,” they said. “It was nice of you to trade with us.”
He reached out his hand and took the thing they’d traded him, and even in the darkness it flashed with hidden fire. He turned it in the paten of his hand and saw that it was some sort of jewel, many faceted, and that the glow came from inside of it and that it burned with many different colors.
It wasn’t until he saw how much light came from it that he realized how long he’d stayed and how dark it was and when he saw that he jumped to his feet and ran, without waiting to say goodbye.
It was too dark now to look for the cows and he hoped they had started home alone and that he could catch up with them and bring them in. He’d tell Uncle Eb that he’d had a hard time rounding them up. He’d tell Uncle Eb that the two heifers had broken out of the fence and he had to get them back. He’d tell Uncle Eb… he’d tell… he’d tell…
His breath gasped with his running and his heart was thumping so it seemed to shake him and fear rode on his shoulders-fear of the awful thing he’d done-of this final unforgivable thing after all the others, after not going to the spring to get the water, after missing the two heifers the night before, after the matches in his pocket.
He did not find the cows going home alone-he found them in the barnyard and he knew that they’d been milked and he knew he’d stayed much longer and that it was far worse than he had imagined.
He walked up the rise to the house, shaking now with fear. There was a light in the kitchen and he knew that they were waiting.
He came into the kitchen and they sat at the table, facing him, waiting for him, with the lamplight on their faces, and their faces were so hard that they looked like graven stone.
Uncle Eb stood up, towering toward the ceiling, and you could see the muscles stand out on his arms, with the sleeves rolled to the elbow.
He reached for Johnny and Johnny ducked away, but the hand closed on the back of his neck and the fingers wrapped around his throat and lifted him and shook him with a silent savagery.
“I’ll teach you,” Uncle Eb was saying through clenched teeth. “I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you…
Something fell upon the floor and rolled toward the corner, leaving a trail of fire as it rolled along the floor.
Uncle Eb stopped shaking him and just stood there holding him for an instant, then dropped him to the floor.
“That fell out of your pocket,” said Uncle Eb. “What is it?” Johnny backed away, shaking his head.
He wouldn’t tell what it was. He’d never tell. No matter what Uncle Eb might do to him, he’d never tell. Not even if he killed him.
Uncle Eli stalked the jewel, bent swiftly and picked it up. He carried it back to the table and dropped it there and bent over, looking at it as it sparkled in the light.
Aunt Em leaned forward in her chair to look at it. “What in the world!” she said.
They bent there for a moment, staring at the jewel, their eyes bright and shining, their bodies tense, their breath rasping in the silence. The world could have come to an end right then and there and they’d never have noticed.
Then they straightened up and turned to look at Johnny, turning away from the jewel as if it didn’t interest them any longer, as if it had had a job to do and had done that job and no longer was important. There was something wrong with them-no, not wrong, but different.
“You must be starved,” Aunt Em said to Johnny. “I’ll warm you up some supper. Would you like some eggs?”
Johnny gulped and nodded.
Uncle Eb sat down, not paying any attention to the jewel at all. “You know,” he said, “I saw a jackknife uptown the other day. Just the kind you want…”
Johnny scarcely heard him. He just stood there, listening to the friendliness and love that hummed through all the house.