Manly Wade Wellman - John the Balladeer 02 (8 page)

 
          
At
first I thought he'd sort of sprung it with his hand to make it do that. But
then I made out that it moved of its own self. And it moved strongly. First it
whipped one way,
then
back the other. Maybe like the
pendulum of a clock.
Maybe like something moved by
electricity.

 
          
"Do
you see the proof of power here?" Altic inquired me.

 
          
"Whatever
makes it do thataway?"

 
          
Always
his smile beneath the dark glasses that hid whatever might could be in his
hidden eyes. "I doubt if I have the ability to tell you what, or if you
have the ability to understand if I do tell you."

 
          
"I've
seen a water witch with his forked stick, and it bobbed like that.
Anyway," I said, "you might
could
try me on
for understanding you. I'm interested in how you talk, air minute. I nair heard
a man talk quite like you. What you say about Shonokins."

 
          
"I've
already told you that Shonokins aren’t men." He smiled above the bobbing
stick where it was stuck in the ground. "Maybe that puts a speculation
into your mind, as to what or
whom
I might actually
be.” He pulled the cane out and tucked it under his arm and turned his glasses
back to look at me. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “if you're turning to one of
your quaint human beliefs in a certain old personage who tempts mortals.”

 
          
I
went down from the rise and along the track, and again Altic walked with me.

 
          
“I
reckon what you're a-getting at is, do I think you're the Devil,” I said.

 
          
“If
you've thought that, you flatter me.” He twiddled his cane to and fro. “Your
Devil is supposed to have a most impressive manner and a courtly way of
talking. But no, John, I'm not the Devil.”

 
          
“You
make me glad to hear you say so,” I said. Though I hadn't suggested that he was
aught like that, nor yet I hadn't truly thought it.

 
          
“You
flatter me, I think.”

 
          
“The
Devil,” I said as we walked along the humming, jangling way. “He's always
a-being told about when he tries to win somebody's soul.”

 
          
“Ah,
there you have it, John,” he said, right cheerfully. “We—the Shonokins—have
never been prepared to admit the existence of souls.”

 
          
I
just shook my head over that, because I couldn't imagine not
to
have
a soul. I gave him a glance out of the side of my eye. His clothes
were fine
clothes,
and no question at all. I'd nair
had
such.
I didn't expect to be that finely dressed,
not even when I married Evadare. I felt shabby, in my old pants and boots and
hat, the sort of things I'd wear to go out and work in the field.

 
          
“Belief
in the soul calls for faith,” he said.
“A particular
religious faith.
And we—we're more concerned with proofs. Material
proofs. For instance, I'm
not only not
the Devil; I
don't believe in him.”

           
"That
should
ought
to comfort you, Mr. Altic,” I said.

 
          
He
laughed. "You said that you liked to hear me talk. All right, I like to
hear you talk. You're highly original and, if I weren't pretty much on my
guard, you'd be highly persuasive.”

 
          
We
walked along together. I felt the tingle in my blood.

 
          
"Anyway,
John,” he said at last, "this little stroll you’ve taken with me must have
begun to convince you that the Shonokins are a curious people and not without
interesting powers. And I’ve made you some attractive offers, on which by now
you might ponder with some profit to yourself.”

 
          
Devil
or no Devil, Brooke Altic could purely talk well. I kept a-walking along with
him.

 
          
"What
is it you want me to do for you?” I inquired him finally.

 
          
"Ah,”
he said.
"Ah, at last.
You're beginning to see
reason. All right, I wish you'd begin by getting hold of that jewel Mr. Ben
Gray carries in his pocket.”

 
          
"The
alexandrite,” I said. "What you sent three Shonokins to get from him, and
they nair got done what they came to do.”

 
          
"Yes,”
he said. "If we could have that—and now we'll have it
You
will help us.”

 
          
"Hold
on now,” I said,
quick
. "I just only inquired you
what you wanted me to do for you. I didn't say I'd do it.”

 
          
I
started in to walk faster, but he kept up, easily, a-swing- ing his cane.

 
          
"You're
beginning to irritate me,” he said gently, "and irritating me isn't going
to help either of us. You came to our settlement, you say, to find out
something about us. And I'm telling you about us. What are you looking at, up
ahead there?”

 
          
“Naturally
you don't know. Come along and see for yourself.”

 
          
We
didn't either one do aught of talking while we slogged along to where we
reached the place where that dead Shonokin lay in the ditch where he had been
flung.

 
          
Altic
came on up behind me and looked, too. I heard his breath draw itself in, sharp
and scared.

 
          
“No!”
he sort of burbled. “No-”

 
          
And
with that, he whipped round in the half of a second and headed back toward his
settlement. I watched him go. He flew, almost. His feet looked
fuzzy,
they were a-moving so fast. Altic was a runner, and
that was a pure natural fact.

 
          
He
went a-plunging out of sight where some tree branches grew down, and I was left
alone with that body that lay so still, and I looked down at it.

 
          
As
I did so, I had a
feeling,
or rather I missed a
feeling. No jangle in my blood, in my nerves, right there. The power, whatever
it was, didn't work where the body was.

 
          
I
bent, but didn't touch it. It lay on its back, with its wide hat down over a
face gone as pale as candle wax. The hands were flung over the chest, and I
reckoned the dead one's friends hadn't done that, the hands had just fallen
there. One sleeve was twitched up. The skin of the arm looked funny. Not true
hair on it, only a fine down. I swear, the down had a rib to it, like fluff
feathers on a baby bird.

 
          
I'm
honest to say, I felt a mite sorry for the poor thing. In that moment I felt
sorry for all things that had to die in a fight. The war I'd seen, what I did
see of it, had taught me how senseless it was to kill or be killed, how war
brought closer the end of the world. I looked at the dead Shonokin as he lay
flung out. I didn't feel like laying him any straighter, but I felt like
a-doing something for him.

 
          
Right
at that point the ditch was scooped out deep, like as if something had bit a
chunk out of the ground and then spit out the dirt on the far side. I shoved at
that pile of dirt with my booted foot. Clods fell in on the Shonokin’s body. I
more or less covered him up thataway, not deep but at least enough to hide him,
not leave him there in the open with his own sort afraid to do it for him. All
the time, I wondered myself why I was acting the gravedigger. I thought a
second I might could say a prayer, but then I recollected how Altic said the
Shonokins didn’t believe in the soul. Finally I picked up some rocks and laid
them on top of the dirt. Then I took off along the jangly
trail,
that
jangled more weakly than it had done.

 
          
1
hadn’t made many steps before I inquired myself, with that body covered up out
of sight, might could not the Shonokins lose their fear, come a-following after
me? I took a look back, but no movement on the track, and I kept ahead, hard
and dead straight on the dead straight way, with less twinge and stir in me. I
moved right fast.

 
          
The
quivering jangle came up in me again. I reckoned I was a-getting near to that
balanced rock. And sure enough, I was, and somebody else stood there next to
it.

 
          
That
quick, I jumped off to where some rocks lay in a bunch, and I grabbed up a
chunk of quartz as big as my fist. If a Shonokin was there to give me trouble,
Fd
feed him back enough trouble to satisfy him a long time.
But- next instant, I saw it wasn’t a Shonokin, no such thing.

 
          
It
was only Jackson Warren, and he didn’t wear that long coat and wide hat I
figured meant the Shonokin kind. He had on the country clothes he’d worn
earlier to go a-looking for honey, and his head was bare. He stood yonder to
study the balanced rock, like as if it was the Washington Monument and he was
a-seeing it for the first time in his life.

 
          
“Hey!”
I hollered him, and he turned round to look at me, while I made my way to him.

 
          
“Whatever’s
brought you here?” I inquired him.

 
          
“I
followed you,” he said back. “I couldn’t let you risk it out here all alone.”
His eyes were wide and shiny. “Careful, John, don’t touch that balanced stone.
There’s a shock in it that will almost knock you down.”

 
          
“I
found that out already, the hard way,” I said. I kept hold of my lump of
quartz. “Stand off from it, and off the track.”

 
          
He
moved clear, and I flung the chunk I had. It hit the balanced rock. It teetered
thisaway, then back again, and I felt its strong current go through me. We
watched while it slowed down its motion.

           
"I've been to what used to be
Immer Settlement,” I said. "All the Shonokins there seemed to be
a-sleeping by day.
All but Brooke Altic.”

 
          
"Altic?”
His eyes crinkled. "Where is he?”

 
          
"He
came along this track with me, but he got scared back the way he came, by the
sight of one of his own dead. I reckon that's the Shonokin Mr. Ben Gray took
down with a shot this morning.”

 
          
Warren
drew his mouth tight. "You went all
the way?
All the way to the settlement?
How far, John?”

 
          
"I
figure about two miles.”

 
          
"Two
miles?” he repeated me.

 
          
"Not
more than that, as it seemed to me.”

 
          
"No
more than that?” he repeated me again.

 
          
"So
far as I can reckon by the walk I made. Why? Is it important?”

 
          
"It
could be. But I'll have to look at some references before I go into that.”

 
          
He
swung round and headed the way to Ben Gray's. "Let's get out of here,” he
said, in a hushed-down voice. "I touched that balanced
stone,
and it rocked back and forth like a shirt blowing in a high wind. And it made
me feel as if I was being electrocuted.”

 
          
Together
we headed along the track, with that tingle in us. It came into my mind that
now the tingle didn't truly hurt. It even seemed to make my feet pick up
better. It did me good, sort of.

 
          
"I'm
getting a theory about this straight travelway,”
Warren
said.
"One that will
interest you, I think.
But I'll not talk about it until we're back at
the Gray cabin and I can dig out a book that possibly will fill us in.”

 
          
We
marched along, side by side.
Warren
looked calmer by now; his face wasn't so
paled out. I talked to him about how those houses at the settlement had looked,
and the strange things that grew in their yards, and Brooke Altic's new line of
talk which I hadn't harked at to buy aught of it.

 
          
"He
says he's not the Devil, but he's up to deviltry," said
Warren
when I'd finished. "He's a wrong guy,
John. He more or less told you he'd sent those Shonokins to rob Mr. Gray of his
jewel, maybe kill him for it"

 
          
"Yes,"
I said, "he did. But they nair got it done."

 
          
"Whatever
he means to do, he's only started to do it."

 
          
We
came to where the trail ended. "All right," I said, "here's the
house. Who are those men a-talking to Mr. Ben?"

 
          
We
stepped out of the tingly track into the yard. A gray sedan was parked beside
the old car
Warren
drove. Mr. Ben stood on his bottom step.
Two fellows were there together. They wore big wide hats and I saw badges on
their tan shirts. One of them said something, and Mr. Ben snapped back at him.
We walked up close enough to hear.

 
          
"If
youins is here today to worry me about blockading," he told them, "go
on. Look round my place if you have a mind, see if you can find a still.”

 
          
"Oh,
we ain't interested in no still you might could have," said the biggest of
the two. "We ain't a-studying no blockade where you're concerned. What we
tried to tell you was, your neighbors allowed there was some shooting a-going
on here at your place, so we just thought we'd drop by and—"

 
          
"I
fired a shot at some kind of varmint was right here in my yard," Mr. Ben
broke him off sharp. "I've yet to hear there's a law of the land that says
I can't do that How come you to be here so quick about it?"

 
          
"We
just happened to be in these parts," said the biggest man. "Heard
tell, and come over."

 
          
“Heard
tell from what loose-jawed talker?” Mr. Ben growled.

 
          
“Let’s
just call that classified information.”

 
          
While
that talk went on, Warren and I came along. The other man turned round to look
at us. He was a youngish fellow, pudgy and rosy-faced. He grinned.

 
          
“As
I live and draw breath,” he said, “if it ain’t John. How you come on,
John,
and what you up to in these here parts?”

 
          
I
knew him then; Dode Griffith, a fairly smart deputy sheriff, who’d now and then
been to play-parties where I’d picked and sung.

 
          
“Howdy,
Dode,” I said. “Me? Oh, I’m just a-passing a little time here, on a visit with
Mr. Ben.”

 
          
The
other deputy knew me, too. “Glad to see you, John,” he said. “So you’re
a-staying with Mr. Gray here? We just come over to inquire him a few things
about some shooting
was
heard round here.”

 
          
“It
was like Mr. Ben was a-telling you just now,” I said. “He saw something sort of
dark over at the edge of those trees yonder, and he took a couple of shots and
it ran off from here.”

 
          
“Was
you round here when it happened, John?” asked Dode Griffith. “Did you get a
look at what it was? It wasn’t
no
man, was it?”

 
          
“No,”
I replied him. “I didn’t see it at all clear, but it wasn’t aught human. I can
guarantee you that.”

 
          
“A
bear, maybe?” wondered the big deputy.

 
          
“No,”
I told him. “At least, I couldn’t rightly call it a bear.”

 
          
Mr.
Ben’s mouth tightened up under his grizzly moustache. “All right, will John’s
word satisfy you fellows?” he wanted to know.

 
          
“John's
word sure enough satisfies me,” allowed Dode Griffith, and nodded his head.

 
          
“And
it satisfies me, too," said the other deputy. “When John here says
something, it
should ought
to satisfy air man who
knows John."

 
          
Mr.
Ben toned down a trifle. “Then all right, folks," he said, some
friendlier. “Since that’s been settled with youins, come on in the house and
have some coffee with us. I’d even offer you a grain of blockade if there was
such a matter here round my place."

 
          
Both
the deputies laughed at that, the way you’d think it was a big joke, and at
last Mr. Ben laughed, too. Things had turned friendly right about then.

 
          
“No,
sir, we do thank you," said Mr. Dode Griffith. “We got a couple other
things to look into round this here part of the county, so we’ll just go along
and look into them.
Good day to you, gentlemen."

 
          
The
two of them walked off and got into their car and backed out and drove off
away. Mr. Ben sort of
glittered
his eyes after them
till they’d rolled plumb out of his sight.

 
          
“John,"
he said then, “I’ve got you to thank for how you headed them off from how they
was a-nosing round. And you done the thing by a-telling them the truth—it
wasn’t no man I shot at, not a sure enough man.”

 
          
“Well,
not quite the truth," said
Warren
, like a lawyer in court.

 
          
“No,
sir, not quite," I agreed him. “I’ve heard say somewhere that a lie told
half the truth is ever the blackest of lies. But I reckon it had to be told
thataway, friends. This business we’re into here isn’t just ordinary business.
Mr. Ben, the Shonokins aren’t true human folks; aren’t men, and if you shot one
it wasn’t like to shoot a man.

 
          
“I
wonder if I hit him hard," said Mr. Ben, like as if he dreamed.

 
          
“Hard
and plumb center,” I said.

 
          
Mr.
Ben sort of glowered off into the woods, the eastward way from that strange,
straight track.

 
          
“The
only neighbor I got close enough to hear me when I shoot is that low-flung,
common Sim Drogus,” he said. “He ain't got business of his own to tend to, not
enough anyways. I'm in a mind to go over talk to him, and I'd be a right
unpleasant visitor to his door.”

 
          
“Would
he even be within earshot, sir?” inquired
Warren
. “Does he stay home all the time?”

 
          
“Near
about all the time,” said Mr. Ben. “Sim Drogus has got the first nickel he air
earned.
Likewise the second and third and hundred and third
and all the rest.
And he sits round home and counts them nickels, when
he ain't a-listening with them long ears of his.” He looked the other way,
toward where the Shonokin settlement was. “Whatever the Shonokins might
could
be up to, yonder,” he said, “I've got it in mind to go
see Sim Drogus.”

 
          
“We
have a few things to talk about right here,” said
Warren
. “Let's see to them.”

 
          
“Well,
come on in and youins can tell me what it's all about,” Mr. Ben said. “Anyhow,
the sun's all up the sky to where we can take us a little thimbleful of
how-come-you so.”

 
          
We
followed him in through the door. Callie was inside there, where she'd been
a-harking at all the talk that had gone on outside. Mr. Ben's rifle leant right
beside the one he'd given me.

 
          
“Mr.
Ben,” I said, “just now I've got the idea we can relax us a trifle bit. The
Shonokins aren't apt to push us much by the light of the day-even if there
wasn't aught out there on their track to slow them up.”