There was only one thing to do, I told myself—stand fast and face it out.
I had taken my eyes off the wolves for an instant to glance up at the sign and when I looked back again the little monstrosity with the pointed head was standing in front of the wolves.
"I should let them have you," he piped, ferociously. "Out there on the river you hadn't ought to belted me with that paddle."
"If you don't shut your trap," I told him, "I'll belt you with this ball bat."
He bounced up and down in rage. "Such ingratitude!" he screeched. "If it weren't for the rules…"
"What rules?" I asked.
"You should know," he piped in wrath. "It is you humans who have made them."
And then it struck me. "You mean that business about three times is a charm?"
"Unfortunately," he shrilled, "that is what I mean."
"After you jokers have failed three times in a row, I am off the hook?"
"That is it," he said.
I looked at the wolves. They were sitting there, with their tongues hanging out, grinning at me. They didn't care, I sensed. It was all one to them if they took me or if they went trotting off.
"But there is further," said the thing with the pointed head.
"You mean there is a catch to it."
"Oh, not at all," it said. "There is the matter of honest chivalry."
I wondered what chivalry might have to do with it, but I didn't ask. I knew that he would tell me. He wanted me to ask; he was still stinging from that paddle blow and he was all set to do a good job baiting me.
He glared at me from beneath the hanging fringe of hair and waited. I took a good grip on the ball bat and waited in my turn. The wolves were enjoying it immensely. They sat in silent laughter.
Finally he could stand it no longer.
"You have," he said, "your three-times charm. But there is another one who hasn't."
He had me cold and he knew he had me cold and it was a lucky thing for him that he was beyond the ball bats reach.
"You mean Miss Adams," I said, as coolly as I could. — "You catch on quick," he said. "Will you, as a chivalrous gentleman, take her peril upon your shoulders? Had it not been for you, she'd not be vulnerable. I think you owe it to her."
"So do I," I said.
"You mean that?" the critter cried in glee.
"Indeed I do," I told him.
"You take upon your shoulders.."
I interrupted him. "Cut out the oratory. I have said I would."
Maybe I could have stretched it out, but if I did I sensed I would lose face and had a hunch that face might count for something in the situation.
The wolves came to their feet and they quit their panting and there was now no laughter in them.
My mind spun in a frantic whirl to snare some course of action that might give me a chance to fight my way out of this dilemma. But it was empty whirling. I got not the least idea.
The wolves paced slowly forward, purposeful and businesslike. They had a job to do and they intended doing it and getting it over with. I backed away. With my back against the building, I might have a better chance. I swished the bat at them and they halted momentarily, then came on again. My back against the building, I stopped and waited for them.
A fan of light caught the building opposite and swiveled swiftly to point down the street toward us. Two blinding headlights loomed out of the darkness. An engine howled its protest at swift acceleration and through the howl came the scream of tortured tires.
The wolves whirled, crouching, held for an instant, pinpointed on the beam of light, then moved, but some of them too slowly as the car came plowing into them. There was the sickening sound of impact as metal crunched into flesh and bone. Then the wolves were gone, blinking out as the thing with the pointed head had blinked out above the water when I'd smacked it with the paddle.
The car was slowing and I ran after it, as fast as I could go. Not that there was any danger now, but I knew that I'd feel safer once I got inside that car.
It came to a halt and I made it to the door and climbed into the seat and slammed the door and locked it.
"One down and two to go," I said.
Kathy's voice was shaky. "One down?" she asked. "What do you mean by that?" She was trying to be casual, but not succeeding very well.
I reached out in the darkness and touched her and I could feel that she was trembling. God knows, she had the right to.
I pulled her close and held her and she clung to me and all around us the darkness was vibrating with an ancient fear and mystery.
"What were those things?" she asked in a quavery voice. "They had you backed up against the wall and they looked like wolves."
"They were, indeed," I said. "Very special wolves."
"Special?"
"Werewolves. At least I think they were."
"But, Horton..»
"You read the paper," I said. "When you shouldn't have. You should know by now…"
She pulled away from me. "But that can't be true," she said in a tight, schoolteacherish tone. "There just can't be werewolves and goblins and all the rest of it."
I laughed softly—not that I was enjoying myself, but amused by the fierceness of her protest.
"There weren't," I told her, "until a flighty little primate came along and dreamed them up."
She sat for a moment, staring at me. "But they were there," she said.
I nodded. "They would have had me if you hadn't come along."
"I drove too fast," she said. 'Too fast all the way for the sort of road it was. I scolded myself for doing it, but it seemed I had to. Now I'm glad I did."
"So am I," I said.
"What do we do now?"
"We drive on. Without wasting time. Without stopping for a minute."
"Gettysburg, you mean."
"That's where you want to go."
"Yes, of course. But you said Washington."
"I have to get to Washington. As fast as I can get there. Perhaps it would be better..»
"If I went with you, right on to Washington."
"If you would. It might be a whole lot safer."
And wondered what I was talking about. How could I guarantee her safety?
"Maybe we had better start then. It's a long way to go. Would you drive, Horton, please?"
"Certainly," I said and opened the door.
"No, don't," she said. "Don't get out."
"I have to walk around."
"We could change seats. Slide past one another."
I laughed at her* I'd gotten terribly brave. "I am safe," I said, "with this baseball bat. Besides, there's nothing out there now."
But I was wrong. There was something out there now. It was clambering up the side of the car and as I stepped out it hoisted itself atop the hood. It turned around and faced me, jigging in its rage. Its pointed head was quivering and its pointed ears were flapping and the thatch of hanging hair bounced up and down.
"I am the Referee," it shrilled at me. "You fight very tricky. For such dirty fighting back, there must be penalty. I call a foul upon you!"
I swung the bat in rage, two-handed. For one night I'd had enough of this strange character.
It didn't wait. It knew what to expect. It flickered and went away and the bat went swishing through the empty air.
13
I slumped in the seat and tried to sleep, but I couldn't seem to sleep. My body needed sleep, but my brain cried out against it. I sank close to the edge of it, but never seemed quite able to drop off into it.