"You mean, we've got a tail on him,'' the captain exploded, roaring at his own witticism. "If you get what I mean," and he dissolved into another paroxysm of laughter.
Ken half-turned, about to pounce on the captain, when the air whistle cut across the babel in the Common, and Phyllis Hu announced over the loudspeaker that the feast was now ready to be served.
Under cover of the cheer of approval, Pat pulled Ken back to her, giving him a moment to get his anger and resentment under control.
Chapter XII. RESCUE
DADDY, DADDY, said a soft voice in his ear. Ken roused himself from the lovely depths of sleep to the urgent tug at his shoulder. Daddy, please wake up, cried Ilsa, an almost hysterical note of pleading in her voice.
Whassa matter, Ilsa? he asked, blinking his eyes into focus.
Todd's got loose, she said, her little face contorted with her concern. She was wringing her hands in an unconscious imitation of her mother.
Ken groaned and struggled to a sitting position. Reaching out, he dragged the coverall from the foot of the bed and started to struggle into it.
" 'S not your fault, Ilsa, 's not your fault," he reassured his daughter. "Get in with your mother."
He slipped into his boots and, snatching up a jacket against the cool dawn air and a rifle against any carnivores who might not yet have made their kill, he lurched out of the cabin.
The brisk morning air was pungent with many smells: the lingering aroma of last night's barbecue, the wood fire still glowing in the pit; the scent of fresh water mists rising from the river, the cinnamony flavor of the forest behind him warmed by Doona's orange sun. Reeve blinked the last of sleep from his eyes and surveyed the Common.
Trestle tables dotted the green but the debris of the feast had been cleared away. The area had a forlorn look compared with his memory of the crowded jollity of last night. A few oddments of tableware could be seen in out-of-the-way places, shadow-hidden from the cleaning squad. For a non-alcoholic evening, it had been a very high-spirited one.
Todd was nowhere in sight, in any direction. Reeve sneezed sharply as he trotted across the Common to the mess hall. Equipping himself with several rounds of ammunition and a pair of binoculars, he set out toward the bridge.
Takes no mental strain to guess where that little bugger is headed, Reeve thought. And the Hrrubans got to bed a lot later than we did. No one will be glad to see that snot-nosed idiot at this hour.
During the evening, Todd had found a length of rope somewhere. He had hacked at the end until it resembled the tuft of an Hrruban tail, and then attached it to his pants. It had dragged, a pathetic imitation, in the dirt behind him. When Reeve had looked for the child at midnight, he had found him, 'tail' in hand, and Hrriss's tail curled around his waist, the two fast asleep in each other's arms. It had been an unsettling sight for Reeve. For the first time, he saw his son's face unguarded, his brow relaxed from its habitual frown, his mouth in a gentle, unstubborn line, the long dark lashes outlined on the fair cheek. Todd looked the six-year-old he was, sweet, young and thoroughly lovable. A responding chord of paternal affection was touched in Reeve's heart and he felt the desire to love and protect this exasperating child. Cradling the limp warm body in his arms, tail and all, Reeve had carried Todd to his bed, kissing him as he laid the blankets snugly around him. Toddy, stirring in his sleep, had smiled with contentment.
It wasn't paternalism that stirred Reeve now, nor any affection for the child who would pull such a stunt. Plain resentment boiled in Reeve for having to get up before he had to.
Sure enough, in the dust on the other side of the Bridge, Reeve found the wiggling line of the rope tail, a wispy giveaway, aiming spang toward the ridge and the village.
He sure keeps his eyes open, Reeve grunted, but would the child, in his single-minded march on the village, have the sense to look out for other dangers? A pang of fear stabbed at Reeve as he thought of what marks the bearlike mda claw would make in that tender body. Todd would have no defense against the mda's lightning attacks, nor any warning of its silent-footed approach. Reeve consoled himself with the thought that the mdas had not been seen in the lower valley since the bridge had been built. The constant traffic had driven the urfa, the mda's usual prey, away from this end of the valley. Maybe all the mdas had followed.
But Doona had other traps, like the rroamal vine or the poisonous red sser which smelled deceptively sweet. Reptiles, too, had been catalogued, venomous spiders the size of dinner plates, and invertebrates, exuding oily substances which stung agonizingly.
Anxiously, Reeve plunged up the slope, purposefully noisy in the hope that he might startle any stalking carnivore. He had to check his forward rush at the first dusty clearing, half a mile up the slope, for he no longer followed the straggly mark of the dragging tail. Cursing, Reeve retraced his steps through the grasses, fearful of seeing the signs of a struggle. He cried out with relief when he saw the indentation in the grass where a small creature had passed. For some reason, Todd had struck out in a westerly direction, paralleling the river. His trail led away from the high saddle of the ridge, to the woods that bordered the river.
It made sense, Reeve admitted. The child would see the slope to the ridge as a real obstacle. He couldn't know that the ridge was a more direct route to the village. And he wouldn't know that those woods were far more dangerous. Reeve moved forward at a jog. Maybe he should have roused someone else to help him search, but how could he know the child would have such a headstart. What on earth drew the boy so powerfully to the Hrrubans?" Surely not just a tail? Such an instant affinity!
Last night it had been amusing to see Todd's intent little face, absorbing Hrriss's voluble explanations of this and that. Todd, one hand always on Hrriss's tail, would nod seriously. Then the two would indulge in mild wrestling or another of the games all children seem born knowing. But, Christ, did the brat have to get up two hours before dawn to pick up where sleep had overtaken him the night before?
Reeve forced himself to slow down as he approached the underbrush at the edge of the woods. It would never do for him to fall into one of the very obstacles he worried Todd might find. The child had walked up and down here, trying to get through. The opening Todd had found was not wide enough for Reeve. Carefully he examined both sides and saw no vines or thorny bushes. He pressed back the foliage with the rifle butt and stepped through. Then stopped. The ground, covered by the porous-tree needle mulch, retained no marks as did the dirt or grasses. Todd had come through at this point, but where had he gone from here?
Think like a six-year-old, Reeve told himself. Yeah but Todd doesn't. Well, there's the line of least resistance, Reeve decided, and made off in as straight a line toward the village as the intervening trees permitted.
The terrain sloped down to the river, always visible through the trees. Now, would Todd try the bank? Reeve shook his head, anger for his son's truancy gaining ascendance over his fear for his safety. Well, I can see the river bank from this angle, he thought, and paced forward purposefully, eyes and ears alert.
When I get my hands on that child! Reeve promised himself retribution. The river wound northward now and Ken had to change direction to follow it. Soon it would bend back and flow past the village. The forest animals and birds were waking as the sun penetrated the gloom of the forest. It made visibility better and the noises were comforting. If carnivores had been abroad, there would have been an ominous silence. A sudden clatter of outraged birds attracted Ken's attention. The loud squawking was on his right, nearer the river. He detoured and located the disturbance high in a tree. A silent shadow on the trunk moved with dappled grace. Reeve decided a tree snake had attacked a nest. The chirping subsided and the noise of the river, fast over the rapids above the falls, came to his ears. Also a faint coughing sound, faint but unmistakable.