sounds of drunken conversation came till dawn), she’d breathed a sigh of relief.
Little Sunshine raised his arm: “Hurry, child, make a cross,” he said in a trombone voice, “cause you done come up on me in the lighta day.” Awed, Joel crossed himself. A smile stretched the hermit’s thick wrinkled lips: “Spin round, boy, and you is saved.”
Meanwhile Zoo tried unsuccessfully to conceal a necklace-like ornament the hermit had knotted about her giraffish neck. She looked very put out when Joel asked: “What’s that you’ve got on, Zoo?”
“Hit’s a charm,” volunteered the hermit proudly.
“Hush up,” snapped Zoo. “Done just told me it don’t work iffen I goes round tellin everbody.” She turned to Joel. “Honey, I spec you best run along; got business with the man.”
O.K., if that’s how she felt. And she was supposed to be his friend! He stalked over to the mailbox, threw up the red flag, and put his letters inside, using the tissue-wrapped coins as a paperweight. Then, determining from memory the general direction of the twins’ house, he trudged off down the road.
Sand dust eddied about his feet where he walked in the misty forest shade skimming the road’s edge. The sun was white in a milkglass sky. Passing a shallow creek rushing swift and cool from the woods, he paused, tempted to take off his tight shoes and go wading where soggy leaves rotated wildly in pebbled whirlpools, but then he heard his name called, and it scared him. Turning, he saw Little Sunshine.
The hermit hobbled forward, throwing his weight against a hickory cane; he carried this cane always, though Joel could not see its necessity since, aside from the fact they were very bowed, nothing seemed wrong with his legs; but his arms were so long his fingertips touched his knees. He wore ripped overalls, no shirt, no hat, no shoes. “Gawd Amighty, you walks fast, boy,” he said, panting up alongside. “Else hit’s me what ain’t use to this daytime; ain’t nothin coulda got me out cept Zoo needed that charm mighty bad.”
Joel realized that his curiosity was being purposely aroused. So he pretended to be uninterested. And presently, as he expected, Little Sunshine, of his own accord, added: “Hit’s a charm guarantee no turrible happenins gonna happen; makes it myself outa frog powder ’n turtle bones.”
Joel slackened his gait, for the hermit moved slow as a cripple; in certain ways he was like Jesus Fever: indeed, might have been his brother. But there was about his broad ugly face a slyness the old man’s lacked. “Little Sunshine,” he said, “would you make
me
a charm?”
The hermit sucked his toothless gums, and the sun shone dull in his gluey blue eye. “They’s many kinda charms: love charms, money charms, what kind you speakin of?”
“One like Zoo’s,” he said, “one that’ll keep anything terrible from happening.”
“Dog take it!” crowed the hermit, and stopped still in his tracks. He jabbed the road with the cane, and wagged his big bald head. “What kinda troubles a little boy like you got?”
Joel’s gaze wandered past the ugly man, who was rocking on his cane, and into the bordering pines. “I don’t know,” he said, then fixed his eyes on the hermit, trying to make him understand how much this charm meant. “Please, Little Sunshine . . .”
And Little Sunshine, after a long moment, indicated, with a tilt of his head, that yes, the charm would be made, but: “You gotta come fetch it yoself, cause ain’t no tellin when Little Sunshine gonna be up thisaway soon. Sides, thing is, trouble charms won’t work noways less you wears them when theys most needed.”
But how would Joel ever find the hermit’s place? “I’d get lost,” he argued, as they continued along the road, the dust rising about them, the sun spinning toward noon.
“Naw you ain’t: humans go huntin Little Sunshine, the devilman guide they feet.” He lifted his cane skyward, and pointed to a sailing
Little Sunshine raised his arm: “Hurry, child, make a cross,” he said in a trombone voice, “cause you done come up on me in the lighta day.” Awed, Joel crossed himself. A smile stretched the hermit’s thick wrinkled lips: “Spin round, boy, and you is saved.”
Meanwhile Zoo tried unsuccessfully to conceal a necklace-like ornament the hermit had knotted about her giraffish neck. She looked very put out when Joel asked: “What’s that you’ve got on, Zoo?”
“Hit’s a charm,” volunteered the hermit proudly.
“Hush up,” snapped Zoo. “Done just told me it don’t work iffen I goes round tellin everbody.” She turned to Joel. “Honey, I spec you best run along; got business with the man.”
O.K., if that’s how she felt. And she was supposed to be his friend! He stalked over to the mailbox, threw up the red flag, and put his letters inside, using the tissue-wrapped coins as a paperweight. Then, determining from memory the general direction of the twins’ house, he trudged off down the road.
Sand dust eddied about his feet where he walked in the misty forest shade skimming the road’s edge. The sun was white in a milkglass sky. Passing a shallow creek rushing swift and cool from the woods, he paused, tempted to take off his tight shoes and go wading where soggy leaves rotated wildly in pebbled whirlpools, but then he heard his name called, and it scared him. Turning, he saw Little Sunshine.
The hermit hobbled forward, throwing his weight against a hickory cane; he carried this cane always, though Joel could not see its necessity since, aside from the fact they were very bowed, nothing seemed wrong with his legs; but his arms were so long his fingertips touched his knees. He wore ripped overalls, no shirt, no hat, no shoes. “Gawd Amighty, you walks fast, boy,” he said, panting up alongside. “Else hit’s me what ain’t use to this daytime; ain’t nothin coulda got me out cept Zoo needed that charm mighty bad.”
Joel realized that his curiosity was being purposely aroused. So he pretended to be uninterested. And presently, as he expected, Little Sunshine, of his own accord, added: “Hit’s a charm guarantee no turrible happenins gonna happen; makes it myself outa frog powder ’n turtle bones.”
Joel slackened his gait, for the hermit moved slow as a cripple; in certain ways he was like Jesus Fever: indeed, might have been his brother. But there was about his broad ugly face a slyness the old man’s lacked. “Little Sunshine,” he said, “would you make
me
a charm?”
The hermit sucked his toothless gums, and the sun shone dull in his gluey blue eye. “They’s many kinda charms: love charms, money charms, what kind you speakin of?”
“One like Zoo’s,” he said, “one that’ll keep anything terrible from happening.”
“Dog take it!” crowed the hermit, and stopped still in his tracks. He jabbed the road with the cane, and wagged his big bald head. “What kinda troubles a little boy like you got?”
Joel’s gaze wandered past the ugly man, who was rocking on his cane, and into the bordering pines. “I don’t know,” he said, then fixed his eyes on the hermit, trying to make him understand how much this charm meant. “Please, Little Sunshine . . .”
And Little Sunshine, after a long moment, indicated, with a tilt of his head, that yes, the charm would be made, but: “You gotta come fetch it yoself, cause ain’t no tellin when Little Sunshine gonna be up thisaway soon. Sides, thing is, trouble charms won’t work noways less you wears them when theys most needed.”
But how would Joel ever find the hermit’s place? “I’d get lost,” he argued, as they continued along the road, the dust rising about them, the sun spinning toward noon.
“Naw you ain’t: humans go huntin Little Sunshine, the devilman guide they feet.” He lifted his cane skyward, and pointed to a sailing
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