All Heads Turn When the Hunt Goes By Read Online Free PDF Page A

years younger than I, and very tough.
    "Where's Hackaliah?"
    "Gone to the hospital with Miss Nancy. Where you need to be."
    "I'm not hurt that badly," I protested. "Someone will have the good sense to set up emergency facilities in the cadet barracks. Help me over there."
    "You need a doctor," Tyrone said, lifting me.
    "What about Clipper? I can't just leave my own—"
    Tyrone had white man's eyes the color of spit on a sidewalk, keen enough to light up a woods on a dark night; and those eyes, which at times seemed to express an undisguised resentment, had caused him a good deal of misery until he'd learned to veil or never show them at all, like the sort of downcast, turd-kicking nigger he could never be. He looked steadily at me and said without attempting to spare my feelings, "What's the use? Clipper is done for, captain. He rolled and rolled with that sword stuck inside him."
    "At least we can cover him up, for God's—"
    "Did that first thing. Now, you don't know what's best for you. Your mind is confused, captain. You just come along with me and I'll look after you."
    A truck from the institute's motor pool came blaring up to the chapel, and more than a dozen cadets in grimy fatigues, their faces blackened after hours on the burning mountaintop, jumped off the tailgate and formed rank, waiting weary and bewildered to be told what to do. Timbers groaned in the chapel; part of the roof settled ominously. The tipped bell tolled once, a mournful sound. Tyrone turned and stared at the bell tower as if hypnotized. Men were spilling out of the chapel, but the roof didn't cave in. One of the men was Lt. General Jack T. ("Erie Jack") Bucknam, the school's superintendent and a long-time friend of the family. Undoubtedly Erie Jack was considered too old for active duty in the new war, but he looked alert and fit as he dusted himself off and surveyed the cadets available for the emergency.
    "General Bucknam!" I called, rudely pushing Tyrone away.
    Erie Jack changed direction and trotted up to me. "Well, Champ. Didn't know you were here. This is a hell of a thing. An appalling tragedy! I don't know what happened yet. We have to get organized. Thank God, I believe we have everyone out of there. You don't look good."
    "I'll be all right."
    The white-haired old soldier turned and called two cadets over. "Lieutenant Jenner, there's a scout car parked at my gate. Fetch it for the captain. See that he's comfortable in my house and has everything he needs."
    "General Bucknam, I can't leave—"
    Bucknam's eyes were smarting, from dust or grief. He seemed to be looking beyond me, at the wreckage of a long and satisfying career. In the last analysis, no matter what explanations were forthcoming, he would be held responsible. "What can you do now, Champ? What can any of us do but pick up the pieces? Chapel should've been repaired years ago. No one listened. Never enough money. Time to clear this area. Sort out the injured from the ambulatory. Go with these cadets, that's an order, captain."
    "Yes, sir." I looked at Tyrone, who had backed slowly away from the military pecking order. He stood, long hands jammed into his jacket pockets, studying me with a frown.
    "Ty," I said, pointing the way through the woods in the hollow of Rickett's Mill, which separated town and school, "the hospital's six blocks from here. Find out how Nancy is. Then get me a complete list of Boss's traveling party. We'll have people to account for and arrangements to make."
    "Yes, captain," he said reluctantly, but he was on his way without urging. While the newly commissioned Jenner raced off for the general's scout car, the other cadet, whose name was Brakestone, gave me a shoulder to lean on and helped me toward the general's house, which dommated the terraced avenue just outside the west gate of the post.
    Jenner met us halfway across the Parade and by then I had remembered Nhora, Boss's wife, confined to the train and surely unaware of the tragedy.
    "The