Sprawling on my back, I stared up the slope at the thing that had touched me with its nose. It wasn’t a sabertooth or a dire wolf. It was Bowser, looking down at me with a silly grin on his face, his tail waving frantically.
On hands and knees, I scrambled up the wall of the pit, threw my arms around the dog and hugged him while Bowser washed my face with a slobbering tongue. I staggered to my feet and reached out to grab his tail.
“Git for home, Bowser!” I yelled at him, and the limping Bowser, one back leg stiffened by the Folsom wound, headed straight for home.
NINE
I sat at the kitchen table, wrapped up in a blanket, trying to get the frost, out of my bones. Rila was busy at the pancake griddle.
“I hope,” she said, “that you didn’t catch a cold.”
I shivered; I couldn’t help it. “It was cold back there,” I told her.
“The idea of running out with nothing on but pajama bottoms.”
“There was ice north,” I said. “I could practically feel the ice. I bet I wasn’t more than twenty miles from a glacial front. This is a driftless area. The ice came down, time after time, moving south, on each side of us, but never crossing this area. No one quite knows why. But twenty or thirty miles north, there could have been ice.”
“You had a gun,” she said. “What happened to the gun?”
“Well, when Bowser over there came up behind me, he close to scared me witless. I jumped and dropped the gun and when I saw Bowser, I never stopped to pick it up. The only thing that I could think of was that he could get me home.”
She brought a platter stacked with cakes to the table and sat down opposite me.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Here we. are, talking about your going back in time as if doing so were an everyday affair.”
“Not to me,” I said; “but it is to Bowser. The thing about it is that he must go to many different times.
He wouldn’t have been stabbed in the; rump with a Folsom point at a time when be could have found dead dinosaurs to drag home.”
“To tangle with a Folsom point,” she said, “he couldn’t have traveled back much more than twenty thousand years. Perhaps, a great deal less than that.
You are sure you saw no signs of man?”
“What kind of signs? Footprints? Broken arrows lying around?”
“I was thinking of smoke.”
“There wasn’t any smoke. The only solid time clue that I have is a mastodon that damn near ran me down.”
“You’re sure you did go back? You aren’t having fun with me? You didn’t just imagine the whole thing?”
“Sure. I went out in the woods and hid the gun, then whistled Bowser to me and grabbed him by the tail…”
“I’m sorry, Asa. I know. Of course, you didn’t. You think that cat-faced thing has something to do with it?
Here, get started on those cakes before they get cold.
Drink some of the coffee. It is hot. It will warm you up.”
I forked cakes onto my plate, buttered them, poured on syrup.
“You know,” said Rila, “we just might have something.”
“That’s right. We have a place where it isn’t safe to go looking for a fox.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “We may have something big. If you have discovered time travel, think of what you could do with it.”
“Not on your life,” I said. “I’m not fooling around.
I’ve had it. When I see Catface again, I’m going to turn around and walk rapidly away. You could get trapped back there. I couldn’t count on Bowser to come back every time and get me.”
“But supposing you could control it.”
“How could you control it?”
“You could make a deal with Catface.”
“Hell, I can’t even talk to Catface.”
“Not you. Hiram, maybe. Hiram could talk with Catface. He talks to Bowser, doesn’t he?”
“He thinks he talks with Bowser. He thinks he talks with robins, too.”
“How do you know he doesn’t?”
“Now, damn it, Rila, just be sensible.”
“I am being sensible. How can you be so sure he doesn’t talk with Bowser? As a scientist…”
“A scientist of sorts.”
“All right, even as a scientist of sorts, you know very well you can’t take a position, either negative or positive, until you have some evidence. And remember what Ezra said about Catface coming around and making arrangements for Ranger to run him.”
“Old Ezra is crazy. Very gently crazy. But crazy just the same.”
“And Hiram, too?”
“Hiram’s not crazy. He’s just a simpleton.”
“Maybe it takes gently crazy people and simpletons and dogs to do things we can’t do. Maybe they have abilities we don’t have.…”
“Rila, we can’t turn Hiram loose on Catface..”
The screen door creaked and I swung around.
Hiram came bumbling through the door.
“I heard you,” he said. “You was talking about me and Catface.”
“We were wondering,” said Rila, “if you ever talked with Catface. Like you do with Bowser.’”
“You mean that thing that hangs around the orchard.”
“You have seen it, then.”
“Lots of times. It looks something like a cat, but it isn’t any cat. It’s just got a head. You don’t never see a body.”
“Have you ever talked with it?”
“Times I have. But it doesn’t make no sense. It talks about things that I don’t understand.”
“You mean it used words that you don’t know.”
“Maybe. Maybe some words. Ideas mostly. Ideas I never heard of. Funny thing, it doesn’t move its mouth and it doesn’t make no sound. But I hear the words. Come to think of it, that’s the way with Bowser.
He never moves his mouth and there isn’t any sound, but I hear the words.”
I said, “Hiram, pull up a chair and have some breakfast with us.”
He shuffled in embarrassment. “I don’t know if I should. I already had my breakfast.”
“There’s batter left,” said Rila. “I can make some hot ones.”
“You never pass up breakfast with me,” I said.
“No matter how many other breakfasts you have had.
Don’t change because of Rila. She’s a friend who came visiting. She’ll be around, so get used to her.”
“Well, if it’s all right,” said Hiram. “I’m partial, Miss Rila, to cakes with lots of syrup.”
Rila went to the stove and poured more batter on the griddle.
Hiram said, “Truth is, I can’t feel friendly with this cat-face thing. At times, I’m a little scared of him He’s a funny-looking jigger, with just that great big head and no body you can see. That head of his looks like someone had up and painted a face on a big balloon. He never takes his eyes off you, and he never blinks.”
“The thing is,” I told him, “that Rila thinks it might be important for us to talk with him, but we can’t talk with him. You’re the only one who can.”
“You mean no one else can talk with him.”
“No one but you can talk with Bowser, either.”
“If you should agree to talk with Catface,” said Rila, “it must be a secret. No one but the two of us must know that you have talked with him, or what you talked about.”
“But Bowser,” protested Hiram. “I can’t keep any secrets from Bowser. He is my best friend and I would have to tell him.”
“All right, then,” said Rila. “I guess it would do no harm if you told Bowser.”
“I promise you,” said Hiram, “that he will never tell a soul. If I ask him to, he’ll never breathe a word of it.”
Rila looked at me, unsmiling. “Is it all right with you,” she asked, “if he lets Bowser in on it?”