To Make Death Love Us by Sovereign Falconer Page A

rocked
gently but held its place upon the melting earth. The trunk stopped wobbling, safe enough for the
moment.
    Colonel John
huddled on the floor, quivering with the effort and the fear that washed over him. He was
sweating profusely.
    It was very quiet.
No one had cried out. No one had panicked. They had obeyed his admonishment. Still, the awful
strain was stamped on all their faces.
    "That seemed to be
a proper stack of kiddie's blocks, did it not?" laughed Colonel John, somewhat
nervously.
    Only Serena,
dreaming in the dark, dreaming for them all, knew the courage behind Colonel John's little joke.
To laugh when fear was so great, when terror colored all that he thought or did or wanted to do,
was an act of profound courage. Serena saw deeply into his mind and was amazed by the strength in
the little man's character.
    Colonel John wiped
the sweat from his face and quickly rose to his feet with the air of someone who had fallen on
purpose. "This whole higgledly-piggledly mess seems to * be all of a hodge-podge. Now there's a
redundancy if anyone should want one. Caution is indicated. I'll cer­tainly have to proceed with
greater care. I don't suppose we have an architect or engineer among us, do we?"
    He shut his mouth.
He was rattling on, he knew, be­cause he was frightened, for one thing—more than he wanted to
admit to himself—and wished to delay further action, for another. His confidence was badly
shaken.
    "I think I can
reach the handle of the trunk that fell, that nearly fell I mean," Pepino was quick to
amend.
    "Does it support
anything else?" asked the midget.
    "I don't think so.
It seems free at the top of it. But its difficult to see in the gloom," said Pepino.
    "I wish Serena were
close enough to touch it," mused Colonel John. "It seems to me this dark is a problem only for
us. Were you free, you could be our eyes. It seems you can feel the merest touch of a butterfly's
wing and sense dust motes dancing in the air. That being so, perhaps you'd be able to lay your
hands on this jumble of blocks and know the one that can be moved without bringing the others
tumbling down."
    "Shall I try to get
my legs loose of these tent ropes and things around me?" asked Serena, uncomfortable in the
certain knowledge that it was a thing beyond her strength alone.
    "No, no. Let me see
if we can get me out of this mousehole first so that I might help you."
    "You're talking
very funny, John. Not like yourself at all," Paulette said suddenly.
    "Funny? How so,
love?" said the midget, scrambling carefully forward over tumbled boxes.
    "I mean all
educated and fancy," said Paulette. "Impor­tant, somehow."
    Colonel John winced
a little at that. He chose wisely to take it as a compliment. "Why, thank you, my dear. It is the
thespian in my soul. Crisis is like a spotlight. Turn it on and one feels compelled to
perform."
    "What the hell is
going on back there? What are you doing?" screamed Will with sudden violence. His nerves were
going.
    "I wish Will would
stop yelling at us. He takes on so and we are trying to find us a way out. He don't have
much patience or faith in us either," said Paulette.
    "Shut up,
Paulette!" said Will. "Who asked you!"
    But Paulette was
not to be stifled. "I swear sometimes I think Will's never growed up. I think he fusses too much
when he don't get his own way."
    Colonel John was
delighted with the comment. Will's sniping at them made it all the more difficult for them to
act, undermining the midget's authority as it did.
    "That's just the
case. Exactly the case," the Colonel all but crowed. "Did you hear that, Will Carney? You're just
a pimple-spotted boy chasing pimple-spotted girls!"
    "Shut your mouth,"
Will said.
    "Have to prove
yourself, don't you, Will? Made a mess and a grand failure of your life so you have to be a
success with the ladies, isn't that so,
Will? You'd have your way with the whole female population if you could," said Colo­nel