Crewel Lye Read Online Free PDF Page B

answer to most problems and, you know, it's a pretty effective answer. I suppose I might have felt otherwise if my magic talent had been different; I actually could afford quite a bit of foolishness.
    After that, I realized that the rattling chain was only leading me into mischief. I was playing its game. But I remained intrigued by it; the sound had become a challenge, a minor adventure in itself. So I decided to get smart and make it play my game.
    I returned to my camping spot. Sure enough, the rattle followed me, coming closer. But on the way I foraged in the darkness for some rustleweeds and centipede grass, and I set them at my place under a chocolate-smelling cocoa-nut shell. Naturally they rustled and scrambled faintly, so that it sounded as if a person were lying there somewhat restlessly, as he would if disturbed by a rattling chain. Then I sneaked silently away--I was good at that sort of thing--and circled widely around behind the chain rattle.
    Sure enough, I fooled it. Barbarians are very cunning about such things. I watched as it approached my campsite, wondering why I no longer spooked. Spooks don't like to be ignored! It came over a ridge and I saw it in silhouette against the moonlight--and it was a night mare. No, not a mare, I realized after a moment, for several reasons. The mares did not tease sleepers with distant sounds; they came right in to deliver their bad dreams, then trotted on to the next. They did not have time to fool around, for there were many dreams to deliver. Besides which, I wasn't asleep. And this was no mare; it was a colt. Maybe a stallion. A shaggy, wild thing hung with chains; that was how it rattled. It was, in fact, a pooka--a ghost horse.
    A horse. My barbarian brain began to percolate. I could use that horse! But how could I catch it? I was sure that it was at least halfway solid, because its chains rattled, so they were solid, and it had to be solid enough to carry them. But it could simply outrun me--which was one reason I wanted it. Not only would travel be easier with a horse, but would be faster, and I would be able to carry more. Besides, the challenge interested me; as far as I knew, no one had ever captured a pooka before. So this was exactly the sort of adventure I sought. Think of the amazement if I rode back into Fen Village on a ghost horse!
    But I was very tired now; contrary to carefully fostered myth, barbarians do get tired on occasion. It would be better to get a night's rest and commence the pursuit in the morning. On the other hand, the creature could be long gone by then, so I didn't dare wait.
    I sighed. It would have to be now. Fortunately, I was a robust young man, so my fatigue was an inconvenience, not a crippling thing. I organized for the chase.
    First I used my sword to cut some supple long vines to serve as rope for a lariat, since I wanted to capture, not kill, this creature; that was a more difficult matter. I wasn't sure it was possible to kill a ghost horse, but I didn't want to take the chance. Naturally I had practiced with ropes in the course of my preparations for herodom and had a pretty good touch; it is one of the basic uncivilized skills. Then I started off.
    Of course the pooka realized almost immediately that I was pursuing him; ghost horses are quite alert about such things. With a rattle of chains, he took off. I could not come close to matching his pace, but I could see his hoofprints in the moonlight, and the continual clink of the chains enabled me to follow him more readily by ear.
    I plodded on, giving short shrift to whatever got in my way. I didn't like traveling by night, for the only class of menaces that is worse than that of the day-wilderness is that of the night-wilderness. But maybe the night-horrors realized that I was tired and irritable and not to be trifled with, for none attacked me. Maybe I was just lucky. Some fools have phenomenal luck, and of course they need it.
    So I kept the clink of the chains just within