Dreaming Jewels Read Online Free PDF Page A

hands. “Good, Zee! I knew you’d see it.”
    Havana added, “So did I. I… see somp’n else, too.” He pointed.
    “Coffee urn?” said Bunny stupidly. “Toaster?”
    “The mirror, stoopid. Will you look?” He leaned close to Horty and put an arm around his head, drawing his and Zena’s faces together. The reflections looked back at them—small faces, both brown, both deep-eyed, oval, dark-haired. If Horty were wearing lipstick and braids, his face would have been different from hers—but very little.
    “Your long-lost brother!” breathed Bunny.
    “My cousin—and I mean a girl cousin,” said Zena. “Look—there are two bunks in my end of the wagon… stop that cackling, Bunny; I’m old enough to be his mother and besides—oh, shut up. No; this is the perfect way to do it. The Maneater never has to know who he is. It’s up to you two.”
    “We won’t say anything,” said Havana.
    Solum kept on eating.
    Horty asked, “Who’s the Maneater?”
    “The boss,” said Bunny. “He used to be a doctor. He’ll fix up your hand.”
    Zena’s eyes looked at something that was not in the room. “He hates people,” she said. “All people.”
    Horty was startled. This was the first indication among these odd folk that there might be something to be afraid of. Zena, understanding, touched his arm. “Don’t be afraid. His hating won’t hurt you.”

4
    T HEY REACHED THE CARNIVAL in the dark part of the morning, when the distant hills had just begun to separate themselves from the paling sky.
    To Horty it was all thrilling and mysterious. Not only had he met these people, but there was also the excitement and mystery ahead, and the way of starting it, the game he must play, the lines he must never forget. And now, at dawn, the carnival itself. The wide dim street, paved with wood shavings, seemed faintly luminous between the rows of stands and bally-platforms. Here a dark neon tube made ghosts of random light rays from the growing dawn; there one of the rides stretched hungry arms upward in bony silhouette. There were sounds, sleepy, restless, alien sounds; and the place smelled of damp earth, popcorn, perspiration, and sweet exotic manures.
    The truck threaded its way behind the western row of midway stands and came to a stop by a long house-trailer with doors at each end.
    “Home,” yawned Bunny. Horty was riding in front with the girls now, and Havana had curled up in the back. “Out you get. Scoot, now; right into that doorway. The Maneater’ll be asleep, and no one will see you. When you come out you’ll be somebody different, and then we’ll go fix your hand up.”
    Horty stood on the truck step, glanced around, and then arrowed to the door of the trailer and skinned inside. It was dark there. He stood clear of the door and waited for Zena to come in, close it, and draw the curtains on the small windows before turning on the lights.
    The light seemed very bright. Horty found himself in a small square room. There was a tiny bunk on each side, a compact kitchenette in one corner, and what appeared to be a closet in the other.
    “All right,” said Zena, “take off your clothes.”
    “ All of ’em?”
    “Of course, all of them.” She saw his startled face, and laughed. “Listen, Kiddo. I’ll tell you something about us little people. Uh—how old did you say you were?”
    “I’m almost nine.”
    “Well, I’ll try. Ordinary grown-up people are very careful about seeing each other without clothes. Whether or not it makes any sense, they are that way because there’s a big difference between men and women when they’re grown up. More than between boys and girls. Well, a midget stays like a child, in most ways, all his life except for maybe a couple of years. So a lot of us don’t let such things bother us. As for us, you and me, we might as well make up our minds right now that it’s not going to make any difference. In the first place, no one but Bunny and Havana and me know you’re a