Show MARKGIEK f By John Cunningham Illustrated by Richard Stone jH I I jj $ the Ferraldi He was right behind her saying “Don’t forget to have somebody take a look at your brake lines Something's leaking" “Thank you for telling me" she said and i i shot away the long driveway wavering through her tears She swung around the corner off the east The enormous plumbago Valley Road vine flashed by a mound of blue blossoms fifteen feet high The big gate of her father’s place came into view She zoomed down the drive through the oaks and the giant forest ferns and stopped in front of the door "Melvin!” she called in the hallway No answer no echo Too many tapestries too many pale old Chinese rugs She walked on down the wide hall and into the big bam of a living room Her mother was standing by the tall windows a small quiet woman with the poise of years and everlasting patience “Did you see Bob?” she asked turning slowly smiling Angie stripped off her gloves not looking at her for some reason “I invited him to stay for dinner" “That’s nice We always got along well Bob and I” She watched Angie quietly “A pity your father never liked Bob Too simple for him suppose Your father always has to analyze everybody but you can’t take Bob apart he's all of one piece” "Mummie what in Heaven’s name do you want me to do? Be the wife of a glorified fireman? Did you send me to Vassar for that?” "Vassar was your father’s idea You were to be a brightly polished highly functional woman — ” “But — ” “Hi Angie” Melvin said from the door He was smiling "Am I interrupting anything?” Characteristically he Knew he was and characteristically it didn't phase him in the least “All packed?” he asked cheerfully He was holding a long barbed spear “Is that a harpoon?” Angie asked faintly "Beautiful isn’t it?" he said “Perfect adaptation of the means to the end Edge I- - like a razor” “Oh it’s such fun Mel” Angie said trying sadly to be gay The harpoon was too ungay “What in the name of Sam Hill is that?” Bob said from the shadowy hall “Hello Mrs Burroughs Hello Melvin old boy” Melvin looked pained "Going fishing I see” Bob said “Harpooning I should say probably” Melvin said “One hunts Whales are not fish They are mammals One hunts mammals" “God help all us poor mammals Well don't slip and nick yourself Mel when the tilting decks run red with gore How soon are you leaving?” Melvin looked at his wrist watch "Twenty minutes” “Send me a quart of globigenna ooze will you old man? From dear old Funa Futi?" “Hunting" whales hy didn’t he shut up? Angie thought He looked so coarse jibing at Melvin that way “Did you tell Melvin about those brakes bY yours?" Bobby asked “What brakes?” Melvin asked “Your race job is fluid brake Bum line” leaking “Is it?" Melvin said coldly “Don’t let me disturb you” Bobby said in a lower voice not quite so cheerfully "but it’s not exactly safe” “In the unlikely event of an emergency" Melvin said “we can use the emergency brakes That’s what they’re for Come on Angie let’s load up" With an effort Bobby made himself smile He walked toward the stain Angie stood for a moment looking at Robert Spence No change no change at all in the blue distant smiling eyes She made it up the stain with perfect poise blinking away her tears Mn Burroughs said quietly “Bob have you ever considered going into the lumber business? Timber?” “Yes" he said smiling "I had four offers from firms in the northwest last year They said money was no object I said it wasn’t wifh me either So I’m still here” They heard feet on the stain and watched Angie and Melvin descending each carrying two small bags Melvin saw them watching and decided to carry all four i i i i Outside Angie’s mother kissed her And then with a roar of the motor Angie let off the emergency brake and they sped away whipping out of sight around the corner beyond the gate “So that’s that" Bobby said He looked down at the ground smile gone There was a round puddle of oil where the car had been standing “Good Lord” he said his face tightening “What do you mean?” her mother asked "She’s got nothing in the lines but air” he said “No brakes at all” He bent and Continued on next page 1 1 n w YOUTHFUL PRODIGY John Cunningham began writing at age 10 In Us earlier days he sold most of Us stories to Western magazines and now he is published widely in general magazines His first norel “ War horse" is coming oat tUs fall The explosion would come any moment l O 23 J r |