The rising sun was topping the hills behind them when Tony glanced back and saw the bears.
“Oh, no!” he groaned. “Tell 'em to go away, Tia.” It was soon apparent that the bears had no intention of leaving them. Whenever Tia scolded them, they would look at her wistfully as if to say: “You are our friends, and you're going in the same direction we are, so why can't we all travel together?”
Because his attention was on the bears, he almost walked into a farmyard before he saw it.
He was taking his time carrying Winkie when it happened, and they were going downhill, following a path along a strip of woods. The little cat suddenly leaped away. Too late Tony saw the weatherbeaten shack on the left, where the woods ended. He was instantly aware of the man in faded overalls who sat on the back steps, for the man was staring up at him, slack-jawed, as if it were impossible to believe the sight of two human beings and two black bears, who seemed about to enter the yard.
Abruptly the man leaped up and sprang into the house. Tony heard him say hoarsely, “Hand me the gun! It's them witch people— bears an' all! “
Tony caught Tia's hand and jerked her into the cover of the woods. As they ran, a shotgun blast sent bits of leaves falling in the green twilight ahead. They dodged behind a large tree and scrambled on through the shadows as another blast sounded behind them.
Long minutes later, after splashing across a rocky stream, they reached the far edge of the woods and fell, panting, in a bed of ferns that grew along the top of an embankment. Below them, following a much larger stream, was a narrow gravel road that wound away through a valley. At the moment, going any farther was unthinkable, for they could hear traffic on the road and see farmhouses beyond a bridge downstream.
When she had got her breath, Tia turned stricken eyes to him and said, “I—I don't understand. That man called us witch people! And why would he shoot at us?”
Tony looked grimly at the road, and a little longingly at the creek, and wished they'd stopped to drink at the stream they'd crossed. He was very thirsty.
“It was seeing us with the bears,” he muttered. “He must have heard about us over the radio, and realized who we were. It scared him.”
“But—but why?”
“You oughta know we can't go hiking around the country with wild animals without giving some people the shakes. And didn't you hear what Ben Purdy called us?”
Then he shook his head. “I guess you didn't. You were busy at the bear cage. Anyway, after what we did at that police station, he was really scared. Said we couldn't be human—that we must be witches.”
“Oh, dear!”
He was trying to get his direction straightened out when two cars came by, moving slowly. Then came a third car, barely creeping along. The driver was speaking over a two-way radio, and though the conversation was muffled, their sharp ears could distinguish every word of it.
“…We're up on Yellow Creek Road,” the driver was saying. “About two miles from the highway, near Mace Johnson's place. Got it straight?”
“We got it,” came the reply. “What about the bears?”
“Mace says he seen 'em crossing the creek just a couple minutes ago. We figger those witch people can't be too far off—mebbe up here in the timber above the creek. There ain't but six of us up this way, so we're gonna need some help. You guys get over here fast!”
“Coming!”
A cold knot was clutching in Tony's stomach. It seemed, suddenly, that every man's hand was turned against them.
He looked bleakly at Tia, and whispered, “Let's get away from here.”
APPLE ORCHARD
They crawled back until they were well out of sight of the road, then began hurrying through the woods in an upstream direction. The bears, Tony reasoned, must have crossed the creek somewhere near the bridge, and he wanted to get as far from there as possible before slipping out of the woods.
Several times in the next few minutes they heard cars moving slowly along the road, patrolling from both directions, but gradually these sounds faded as the narrowing valley swung to the left, curving past a jutting ridge. Tony moved straight on, climbing steadily until they were over the ridge, and then angling cautiously down through a cutover area on the other side. Reaching the safety of a thicket of young pines, they stopped to get their bearings, for just ahead was another road, and beyond that lay a farm. The farm sprawled over a hill, and directly behind it rose a mountain.
Tony ran his tongue over dry lips and forgot his thirst. “Kozak's can't be far from here,” he said, looking wonderingly at the cool heights ahead. “The way I figure it, that road runs sort of west. Maybe it runs into the one we want. What's the name of it?”
“Cahill Road, and the Kozaks live four miles north on it.” Tia rubbed a grimy hand over her smudged face. “Oh, dear,” she added. “The Kozaks must have heard all about us by now. What if they don't want anything to do with us?”
Tony experienced a momentary jolt at the thought of being hunted and having no haven to run to. But instantly he shook his head. “Don't talk that way. If they're Father O'Day's friends, you know they'll have more sense than these other people. Let's get going.”
“Wait—where's Winkie?”
“I haven't seen him since we were shot at. Don't worry about him. He always manages to catch up with us.”
During the rest of the morning there was no sign of Winkie—or the bears either, for which he was thankful. Ever on the alert for people, they followed the road a while, taking cover in the shrubbery when they heard cars approaching; later, when the road turned in the wrong direction, they skirted a farm and began angling over the rising hills.
Once, after they had stopped to drink from a trickle of water coming from a ledge, he closed his eyes and tried to visualize the Kozak place. He saw, clearly, a long hill entirely covered with a grove; on one side, nearly hidden by the trees, was a large red brick house. A paved road ran in front of it.
When they reached the crest of the rocky hill they had been climbing, he looked hopefully ahead and glimpsed a paved road in the distance.
“There it is,” he said, pointing. “You can just make out the orchard.”
“I hope it's the right place,” Tia said wearily. “I—I can't go much farther…”
Her pinched face told him how tired she was. He realized with a shock that they had been traveling for nearly eleven hours since they left the barn, and in all that time they'd had nothing to eat. Nor had they eaten very much yesterday.
“We'll be there in thirty minutes,” he assured her.
Before they went down the slope she looked worriedly back over the way they had come. Her voice broke as she said, “Oh Winkie, where are you? Do you suppose he's hurt, Tony?”
“I told you he's all right. He jumped away before that man shot, and you know he can't walk as fast as we can. And cats don't hurry for anybody.”
Instead of the half hour he had promised her, it took them more than double that time to circle through woods and around fields to the lower corner of the orchard. In his eagerness to reach the house and be among friendly people, he almost forgot his tired feet, and it was with difficulty that he restrained himself and approached the place warily.
“They may have visitors,” he whispered, between bites of an apple he had plucked. “We'd better scout things out before we show ourselves.”
They crept down through the rows of heavily laden trees, and paused uncertainly near a group of neat outbuildings. In the noonday stillness they could hear no sound save distant cars somewhere on the road. Frowning, Tony led the way on, to a large open shed on one side of a parking area. Just beyond it lay the house—the big brick building he'd visioned earlier.
Tia clutched his arm. “There—there's no one here,” she whispered.
“But there must be! Father O'Day phoned them—they know we were coming.”
Could he have made a mistake and come to the wrong place? But no, that couldn't be. In neat stacks beside him under the she
d were hundreds of new crates. On each crate was stenciled KOZAK ORCHARDS.
Tia's chin began to tremble. “I—I didn't want to tell you, but I've had the awfullest feeling for hours…”
He stared around in sick dismay, noting the closed windows and drawn curtains, and the blown leaves and debris on the side porch. From the looks of things, no one had been here for a week. The Kozaks must have gone away somewhat before Father O'Day telephoned them.
Tia sank helplessly upon a crate and put her hands over her face. Tony rubbed grimy knuckles across his jaw, and his lips thinned. They'd come hundreds of miles to find the one person who could help them—and now this.
What were they going to do?
“If we've come this far by ourselves, we can make it the rest of the way,” Tony ground out.
Suddenly he was aware that one of the cars he had heard on the road was now very close and slowing. He glanced down the long driveway, and saw it turning in at the entrance. With a quick rise of hope he wondered if it could be the Kozaks returning. Then caution told he couldn't take that chance. There were too many witch-hunters on the roads.
Tia was already on her feet, looking anxiously around for a place to hide. But beyond the open shed there was no spot near enough to reach without being seen.
“Get behind the crates,” said Tony. “Quick!”
They caught up their bags and crouched down behind a stack of crates, and hurriedly rearranged some of the other stacks around them. Between the crates they watched a white sedan roll quietly to a stop in the middle of the parking area.
Almost in slow motion, two men got out and stood poised in watchful silence on either side of the car. The slender and rather grim man in brown was Lucas Deranian. Today he looked more than ever like Father O'Day's archenemy, the devil.
* * *
After the trouble they had had, the shock of seeing Mr. Deranian was almost too much. How, Tony wondered incredulously, had the man ever discovered that Tia and he were coming here? It seemed impossible.
The other man, a pale and much heavier person in a rumpled gray suit, must be the one Tia had seen at the door of the mission. There was a look about him that Tony had always associated with detectives. Was he the Werner Karman who had called Ben Purdy from Washington?
The two men spoke in tones so low that ordinary ears could not have heard them.
Tight-lipped, the pale man said, “What do you think, Lucas?”
“Don't know yet. They could be here now—probably hiding in the house. If locks can't hold them…”
The pale man's eyes roved restlessly, taking in the shed, the outbuildings, and the closed windows of the house. His lips barely moved as he said, “When I asked about the Kozaks, I was told they'd been away for a week. You really think that priest would send those kids here, not knowing his friends were gone?”
“That has to be the answer. We were crowding him close the other morning. If we'd just found out earlier that he knew these people…Werner, you'd better search the house. Think you can get in?”
“I ought to have a master key that will make it. Keep your eye on the side door. I'll go in the front way.”
The man in brown nodded. “Watch it, Werner—you know what we're up against.”
The other said softly, “That's just it—I don't know.”
“You know as much as the rest of us. We were warned to expect anything.”
“Yeah. But I wouldn't have dreamed…”
The pale man—he had to be Werner Karman—took a heavy bunch of keys from his pocket and moved quietly around to the front of the house. Lucas Deranian stood motionless by the car watching and listening. The minutes dragged by.
Finally the pale man returned, shaking his head. “No one's been in there for days, Lucas.”
“You checked the kitchen carefully?”
The other nodded. “And the cellar. No food has been touched.”
Lucas Deranian smiled grimly. “Then there's a possibility we got here ahead of them.”
“Maybe. But hold it a little longer. I'd better have a look at these other buildings.”
Tony chilled, and he felt Tia's small hand tremble on his arm. The pale man was striding straight toward them, his restless eyes roving over the stacks of crates. But the man paused only briefly and hurried on to the closed garage and storage buildings beyond.
Werner Karman was gone longer this time. When he came back he was almost running. “They're here somewhere,” he whispered tensely. “I found two apple cores back there. Fresh ones. The juice is still wet on them.”
“See any tracks?”
“Not in this gravel. And there's too much grass around the trees. They're not in the outbuildings—I checked them all first. They probably saw us coming and ran back into the orchard.”
“Now wait a moment. Some farm children around here could have been stealing apples.”
“I doubt it. I was raised in apple country. These won't be ready to pick till next month—but you can always find a few early ripe ones. Nobody would eat green ones, right down to the core, unless he was very hungry and didn't know how to find ripe ones.” The pale man shook his head. “I was beginning to think that priest may have had some other friends over by Fairview, and that the kids had really gone there. But this proves they didn't.”
He paused, and muttered, “How are we going to handle this?”
The grim man in brown began snapping his fingers. “Let me think. Somehow I don't like the idea of playing hide-and-seek in a big orchard…”
“What else can we do? Don't forget—there are six of us. I could go and tell the others to spread out—”
“No, Werner. Too risky.”
“Why?”
“You know why! With this country full of witch hunters? That fool Purdy! He's got the whole area seething. If those kids got away from us and someone spotted them—or anyone on the road saw us hunting them—there'd be a mob here in no time.”
“Maybe you're right. This witch business has sure gotten out of hand. But how are we going to manage it? We can't afford to lose those kids. Not now. They've already upset the whole schedule…”
“Forget the schedule. Ships can be delayed.” Mr. Deranian shrugged. “As for our connections abroad—if they'd told me ten years ago what they'd lost, I could have returned their prizes immediately. But they were so secretive…” He shrugged again. “How could anyone have even dreamed that those refugee kids I left with the old woman…”
“Lucas, what are we going to do? We haven't got all day.”
“Yes, we have—what there is left of it.”
“Eh? What's your idea?”
“It's quite simple. We'll just drive off for a while and give them a chance to enter the house.”
“Huh?”
“Werner, unless that pair can fly—and I wouldn't be surprised to discover they can—they must have hiked nearly twenty miles today. Except for some green apples, I doubt if they've had anything to eat since they got off the bus yesterday. Purdy didn't feed them. So they are tired now, and very hungry. This is their destination, and they'll be forced to use it. Do you see my point?”
The pale man grunted. “I get you. They'll be in that house the minute we're gone, looking for something to eat. In another hour they'll be asleep. Then we can slip up to the house, surround it, and take them easily.”
“Of course. Now let's get back where the others are waiting.”
“Hold it. Someone's coming.”
Lucas Deranian turned.
In their hiding place behind the crates Tony looked at Tia's pinched face, and clenched his fists in growing desperation. He had, in fact, been planning to enter the house as soon as the men left, not only to find food, but to outfit themselves for the rest of the journey. It was not a thing he cared to do, but how could they possibly manage otherwise? They had to have food—and they'd also need blankets, matches, a knife, and a map if he could find one. He'd leave a note for Mr. Kozak, and plenty of money to pay for the things
they took. But now…
He watched a small car come up the driveway and stop behind the other one. Two eager young men in sport shirts got out. One, who carried a notebook, said quickly, “We're trying to find Mr. Werner Karman. Are you Mr. Karman, sir?”
The pale man's face lost expression. “What made you come looking for him over here?”
“Why, sir, we—we had your description, and we traced you from Fairview to Red Bank, and a boy at a filling station said some men in a car like yours were asking about the Kozak place. You are Mr. Karman, aren't you?”
“What do you want?”
“A statement, sir. We're from the Press. We have statements from all the witnesses who saw what happened yesterday at Fairview; now we need one from you. What happened is absolutely incredible—but it happened, and you're the only person who can give us any answers.”
“No comment,” Werner Karman said coldly.
“Oh, come on!” the other young man burst out. “This is the story of the year! There are reporters from some of the big papers looking all over for you; they're bound to find you soon. We're just local correspondents—so please give us a break. Why did you come to the Kozak place? Do you expect to find those witch kids over here?”
Mr. Deranian said quickly, “It happens that Mr. Kozak is an old friend of mine. He knows the country here, and we were hoping he could give us some help. Unfortunately, he's still away from home. Now if you'll excuse us, gentlemen, we must be going. This is an urgent matter, and we're not at liberty to discuss it.”
“But won't you give us a few clues?” begged the young man with the notebook. “They are not really kids, are they? Could they actually be witches? Or would you say they're something in human form from outer space? It's being said the Government captured them, and was holding them—I mean, trying to hold them—for study when they escaped. Is that true?”
“No comment,” said Werner Karman again. “Now please—”
“Just a moment, sir. Did you know they were shot at this morning? A farmer named Hogan over on Yellow Creek Road shot at them twice, at close range. He told us that if they'd been real human beings—”
Escape to Witch Mountain Page 8
