he saw with some satisfaction that he had come past the place where those rocks might jump down on an unsuspecting wayfarer.
He kept heading along, for what he hadn't waited to look at the day before. This time, none of the Kimbers were afoot on the road. Gander Eye couldn't decide to be glad. He wondered if it wouldn't be more or less a good idea to talk to some Kimbers, to see if he could find out something. But then, maybe the Kimbers were in the dark about it, too.
Dark. It had been dark when he had looked down from afar at the lights in the hollow where the baptizing had taken place. Now it was daytime, and maybe he could make out something more.
He reached the place where the rock rose steeply beside the road and curved deeply beyond. Down there among the trees, he knew it without looking again, were those marks of scorched bark and leaves. No point in scrambling down for another study. He couldn't tell how they had been made, nor by what. And nobody seemed about to believe anything he said about his findings.
He came to where the side trail went down from the road. If he stayed on the road itself, he'd soon be among the cabins the Kimbers had built for their settlement, but nobody would be afoot down the trail. They only went there to baptize, on a night when the moon was full and staring. He slipped in among the brush, and half a dozen steps along the slanting trail took him clear out of sight from the road. A little way below, and the trees opened up somewhat. He could see down there.
The baptizing pool lay at the very lowest point of the hollow. Two nights ago, it had shown like a twinkle of black among the lanterns. Now he saw that it was oval in shape; he reckoned it was maybe half an acre in extent. A man could breed fish in there, Gander Eye told himself, feed them up, and when they were big enough he could fish that water over and over, while more fish made themselves and fed themselves. Giving food to the fish made them just like chickens in a run. It wasn't real fishing sport to drop a baited hook in where fish crowded together and fought for the bait. You just pulled them on in. You might not get the biggest of them, you just got the best fighters.
On the far side of the pool, where another height of the mountain rose up like a tall, tall building thrown up there by giants, opened a darkness. It was some kind of cave.
He descended a score of steps farther, to where he could see better. That big cave had light inside. Not lamps, not fires—those would be yellow or red. This light was blue.
As Gander Eye peered at it, he thought the blueness stirred. You might even say it flickered. What burned blue? A little salt on a candle did that, and if you set fire to blockade in a saucer it flamed with a bluish tint. But this blue was stronger than those. It was like a great blue blossom turned into light. And, as he studied it, it flickered again. It winked, like a shifting radiance on blue glass.
"Baffling, isn't it?" said a cheerful voice at his shoulder.
Swift as a lizard, Gander Eye spun away from the voice, spun for a dozen feet or more through a scatter of prickly bushes beside the trail. He came around facing a heavily built man whose suit of denim was something to be envied. Gander Eye thought this stranger was about the hairiest human being he had ever seen. Even closely shaven, he seemed to have a beard. His deep, narrow eyes watched Gander Eye as though from an ambush.
"You're called Gander Eye Gentry, as I've been told," the man said, smiling without mirth. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you."
"I ain't afraid," said Gander Eye, "and I won't tell you if I'm going to hurt you or not."
"You can call me Struve," said the man. "I came all the way up here to talk with you, Mr. Gentry. Talk quietly, without interruption." The mirthless smile broadened. "I may become a lucky new item in your acquaintance."
"You followed me," charged Gander Eye, furious within himself that he had not been
He kept heading along, for what he hadn't waited to look at the day before. This time, none of the Kimbers were afoot on the road. Gander Eye couldn't decide to be glad. He wondered if it wouldn't be more or less a good idea to talk to some Kimbers, to see if he could find out something. But then, maybe the Kimbers were in the dark about it, too.
Dark. It had been dark when he had looked down from afar at the lights in the hollow where the baptizing had taken place. Now it was daytime, and maybe he could make out something more.
He reached the place where the rock rose steeply beside the road and curved deeply beyond. Down there among the trees, he knew it without looking again, were those marks of scorched bark and leaves. No point in scrambling down for another study. He couldn't tell how they had been made, nor by what. And nobody seemed about to believe anything he said about his findings.
He came to where the side trail went down from the road. If he stayed on the road itself, he'd soon be among the cabins the Kimbers had built for their settlement, but nobody would be afoot down the trail. They only went there to baptize, on a night when the moon was full and staring. He slipped in among the brush, and half a dozen steps along the slanting trail took him clear out of sight from the road. A little way below, and the trees opened up somewhat. He could see down there.
The baptizing pool lay at the very lowest point of the hollow. Two nights ago, it had shown like a twinkle of black among the lanterns. Now he saw that it was oval in shape; he reckoned it was maybe half an acre in extent. A man could breed fish in there, Gander Eye told himself, feed them up, and when they were big enough he could fish that water over and over, while more fish made themselves and fed themselves. Giving food to the fish made them just like chickens in a run. It wasn't real fishing sport to drop a baited hook in where fish crowded together and fought for the bait. You just pulled them on in. You might not get the biggest of them, you just got the best fighters.
On the far side of the pool, where another height of the mountain rose up like a tall, tall building thrown up there by giants, opened a darkness. It was some kind of cave.
He descended a score of steps farther, to where he could see better. That big cave had light inside. Not lamps, not fires—those would be yellow or red. This light was blue.
As Gander Eye peered at it, he thought the blueness stirred. You might even say it flickered. What burned blue? A little salt on a candle did that, and if you set fire to blockade in a saucer it flamed with a bluish tint. But this blue was stronger than those. It was like a great blue blossom turned into light. And, as he studied it, it flickered again. It winked, like a shifting radiance on blue glass.
"Baffling, isn't it?" said a cheerful voice at his shoulder.
Swift as a lizard, Gander Eye spun away from the voice, spun for a dozen feet or more through a scatter of prickly bushes beside the trail. He came around facing a heavily built man whose suit of denim was something to be envied. Gander Eye thought this stranger was about the hairiest human being he had ever seen. Even closely shaven, he seemed to have a beard. His deep, narrow eyes watched Gander Eye as though from an ambush.
"You're called Gander Eye Gentry, as I've been told," the man said, smiling without mirth. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you."
"I ain't afraid," said Gander Eye, "and I won't tell you if I'm going to hurt you or not."
"You can call me Struve," said the man. "I came all the way up here to talk with you, Mr. Gentry. Talk quietly, without interruption." The mirthless smile broadened. "I may become a lucky new item in your acquaintance."
"You followed me," charged Gander Eye, furious within himself that he had not been
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