One-Eyed Cat Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought. He’d noticed that his father was often touchy when his brother-in-law was staying with them. Uncle Hilary did like to tease Papa—the way he had about putting sugar on tomatoes.
    â€œThe Georgia Sea Islands are too far,” said Uncle Hilary pensively. “But perhaps we could manage Nag’s Head.”
    â€œWell, Ned?” questioned his father.
    Uncle Hilary smiled at him. He looks like electricity, thought Ned and that made him grin. “I think he’d like to go,” said his uncle.
    â€œYes, I do want to,” Ned said, looking at Papa.
    â€œFine, then,” Papa said. He looked away from Ned, out the window. “We’ll have a harvest moon tonight,” he said.
    â€œNeddy, I must give you your birthday present. I’ll be gone in the morning long before you get up for school—that is, if that old fellow, and his taxi, gets here when he should.” He went out into the hall. Ned had a shelf of presents from Uncle Hilary, coins and ancient bones, a piece of oily spinach-colored jade from China, a pitcher made from lava spewed out from Mount Vesuvius, a butterfly in a glass case from Mexico and, the most valuable one of all, a bronze goat from Greece, so small Ned could hide it in his hand.
    Ned went over to his father and leaned against him, and Papa took his hand and pressed it lightly. Ned didn’t feel quite right. “Do you want me not to go?” he whispered.
    Papa turned to look at him. “I think you’ll have a fine time,” he said. “I’m getting used to the idea of it now.”
    Uncle Hilary came back carrying a long narrow case wrapped in brown paper and tied in several placed with thick cord.
    â€œI think he should open it,” Uncle Hilary said, placing the case on the floor. Ned took the library scissors and knelt and cut the cord and pulled off the wrapping paper and lifted the top of the case.
    If he had made a guess, it would have been the last thing he would have guessed, even if he’d been given one hundred chances. The room was so still he could hear the two men breathing. He picked up the air rifle and sat back on his heels.
    â€œA Daisy,” he said, looking up at his uncle, who nodded at him rapidly as though to assure him it was a gun he was holding.
    â€œIt’s loaded,” said Uncle Hilary. “All ready to go. It’s time you had a boy’s present instead of an old bone or a dead bug or an ancient coin that wouldn’t buy you a jellybean.”
    â€œThose coins and bugs and bones and carvings you brought Ned were splendid,” Papa said loudly, “tokens, clues to the past, signs for guessing and imagining.”
    â€œHappy Birthday, Ned,” Uncle Hilary said uncertainly.
    â€œWhat is there to imagine with a gun?” asked Papa in the same loud voice. “Hilary, your gift is not quite the thing …”
    Ned’s hands tightened on the gun.
    â€œSomething dead,” Papa said more quietly. “That’s what there is to imagine with a gun.”
    â€œI had thought of target practice,” Uncle Hilary said stiffly. “I had thought of skill and a trained eye—”
    â€œPerhaps in a few years,” his father said as though his uncle hadn’t spoken. “When you reach your fourteenth birthday, Ned, if you still want to learn to shoot—”
    â€œPapa,” protested Ned, “don’t you remember when you took me to the fair? You let me try at the rifle range and the man said I had a true eye and a steady hand. Don’t you remember that?”
    â€œThat was a game,” Papa said. “Oh, Hilary! Really, you should have asked me about this!”
    â€œI had thought, James, you would be overjoyed if Ned brought down one of those chipmunks that has been dining on your roof timbers. You complain endlessly about them …”
    â€œThat’s just what I don’t want him to do,” Papa said. His voice