Night Wings Read Online Free PDF Page B

bleedin’ Chin-gachgook or Pocahontas. You want an Indian guide, don’t look at me.”
    “My dear,” Field replies, with the long-suffering tone of a genius having to deal with idiots, “that is precisely why we are obtaining the services of our elderly and stubborn friend Mr. Fortune here.” He chuckles. “To guide us to fame and fortune. But that grandson of his was to be our means of, one might say, gentle persuasion.”
    “From the looks of his room,” Tip says, “He wasn’t here tonight. His bed ain’t even made.”
    “Maybe he’s sleeping over at a friend’s house,” Louise suggests.
    “Hmmmph,” Field says. “Just finish duct-taping the old man’s hands together—at the wrists and the elbows, Louise. From what I’ve seen, Mr. Fortune here may not be an easy one to control. No, leave his legs free. He has a bit of walking to do. And Tip, do keep him out of the frame when we’re shooting. No visual evidence. Just the trail, scenery, and then close on me.”
    The door opens and the steps creak as a heavy person puts his weight on them, takes a deep breath.
    “Oh, Pauuuul!”
    I almost jump at the sound of my name. The “come-out, come-out, wherever you are” tone to Darby Field’s voice tells me he’s just calling into the night on the chance I might be within earshot.
    “We have your grandfaaather.”
    Smug, self-assured. If I were standing out in the darkness beyond the trailer and I had a rock, I’d heave it at him. But I stay put.
    “What’s the matter, lad? We shan’t hurt you”—then—under his breath—“much.” He clearshis throat. “But we will certainly begin doing some rather severe physical harm to your grandfather if you don’t assist us.”
    The thought of what they might do to Grampa Peter if I don’t do what he asks almost makes me decide to give myself up. But I’m not stupid. I remember what Dad and Mom told me about hostage takers, how the only thing that makes them happier than having one hostage is having two.
    And I think of other lessons they taught me:
    Don’t ever give up an advantage in combat.
    Don’t let your emotions get the better of you.
    Think one or two steps ahead of your enemy.
    I don’t know much about Darby Field, but I know I can’t trust him. He wants to use me to make Grampa Peter lead him to Pmola’s treasure.
    That familiar chill runs down my back. It’s bad enough to have a greedy person threatening your life. But Darby Field isn’t just greedy. He wants to find a creature that most people think is just a myth, and the legendary treasure that belongs to that creature. That is just plain crazy.
    I remember one of the stories Grampa Peter told me about a day when he was out in a canoewith an Abenaki friend of his. It was getting close to dusk when they saw something in the sky.
    “Look,” his friend said. “It is the Old One with Wings. I will call him down.”
    “Don’t,” Grampa Peter said.
    But his friend didn’t listen. He made a gesture and spoke some words. Pretty soon that winged thing up in the sky began to circle down closer. It was bigger than a hawk. Bigger than an eagle.
    Grampa Peter’s friend began to get worried. “I will send him back,” he said.
    But his voice was uncertain as he raised his hand to make another gesture and spoke. And that big winged shape just kept getting closer. Now they could see its red eyes.
    “Help me,” his friend pleaded.
    “Here!” Grampa Peter replied, digging in his paddle to turn their canoe toward the shore.
    As soon as they hit the beach, Grampa Peter jumped out and ran toward a huge old pine that had been tipped over by a high wind, his friend close behind him. There was a hole in the blue clay bank at the base of the tree, made by the roots pulling out of the ground. Grampa Peter dove into that hole, turned, and pulled his friend in after him. A hard wind was blowing by then, and other trees were starting to fall.The two of them huddled together until the wind