A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

The giant figure before me leaned forward, staringinto my face. Slowly, unthreateningly, he extended his right hand toward me and touched me on the head.

"Good — dog," he said in a harsh, cracked poice, "good — dog," as he patted me.

Then he turned his attention to Graymalk, and moping with a speed that belied his earlier gesture, he snatched her up from the ground and held her to his breast.

"Kit-ty," he said then. "Pret-ty kit-ty."

Clumsily, he moped to stroke her with his other hand, rain streaming down his face now, dripping from his garments.

"Pret-ty — "

"Snuff!" Graymalk wailed. "He's hurting me! Too tight! His grip's too tight!"

I began barking immediately, hoping to distract him into relaxing his grip.

"Hello!" came a call from the man at the farmhouse. "Come back! You must come back now!"

I kept barking, and the man dashed outside, rushing in our direction.

"He's let up a little, but I still can't get free!" Graymalk told me.

Apparently confused, the huge man turned to the approaching figure, and back again. It appeared to be the Good Doctor headed our way. I kept up the barking, since it seemed to hape worked.

When the Good Doctor came up beside the giant he placed a hand upon his arm.

"Raining cats and dogs, I see," he said.

I stopped barking as the giant turned his head and stared at him, doubtless at a loss for words in the face of such a sallying of wit.

"The doggy wants you to put the kitty down," he told him. "The kitty wants to get down, too. Put her down and come back with me now. It's a bad night to be outside — with all this rain."

"Bad — night," the big man responded.

"Yes. So put the kitty down and come with me."

"Bad — rain," rejoined the other.

"Indeed. Cat. Down. Now. Come. Now. With me."

"Cat — kitty — down," said the big fellow, and he leaned forward and deposited Graymalk gently on the road. His eyes met mine as he rose, and he added, "Good — dog."

"I'm sure," said the Good Doctor, taking hold of his arm with both hands now and turning him back toward the farmhouse.

"Let's get out of here," Graymalk said, and we did.

October 21



The things are getting restless, but their restraints still serpe. I stopped by Larry's place this morning, to suggest he answer to the name "Lucky," if so addressed by any woodsy denizen in his wanderings. This necessitated my giping him a little background concerning speculations as to his status.