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“And he wouldn’t leave those tents,” added Bertha. “He’s much too cheap.”
“He’d wait for Sweet, too,” called Mr. Ginger. “He’s a braver man with thugs to back him up.”
Perhaps we had a better lead than I’d thought. I eased up some on the horses.
“I’m glad I sent the boys to grab some of their bags while you played tag with Mink,” said Apollo, gesturing back at Miss Lightfoot and Mr. Ginger. “That was smart of me, wasn’t it, huh, Abel?”
“You took a chance,” I said. “What if they hadn’t come?”
“Aw, I knew they were coming,” he said with all the assurance of hindsight.
I handed the reins to him and let him drive for a while. He stuck his tongue between his teeth with the effort, which kept him mercifully quiet.
“How is the mummy?” I called behind me. Did Tauseret even know we were on our way?
“That’s a damn funny question,” said Mr. Bopp, peering through the slats behind the driver’s bench.
I guessed she had lapsed into dormancy once more. “How did you get out of the crate?” I asked Mr. Bopp.
“Chewed me way out,” said the human caterpillar.
I took him at his word, since he still had a splinter stuck to his lip.
“Won’t we be conspicuous on this road once the sun rises?” asked Mr. Ginger from behind Mr. Bopp.
“Like a wart on a snake’s belly,” I heard Moses say.
They were right. I wondered where amid these cornfields we could hide.
“Might we trade this wagon for another?” asked Miss Lightfoot. “It’s a sound conveyance.”
“Except for ‘Dr. Mink’s Traveling Monster Menagerie’ being painted along the side,” said Mr. Ginger.
“All the more reason to get
rid of it,” I said.
“You’ll have to make the deal, sugar pie,” said Miss Lightfoot. “None of us will suit.”
I wished to ask her about the papers on the children, but I didn’t want to yell the question over my shoulder; I wanted to see her face so I could judge her answer. I couldn’t believe she had acted maliciously; was she merely embarrassed to be party to Mink’s infamy?
In the gray light of dawn Mr. Ginger took a turn at the reins, his cap pulled down over his twin in case we met strangers. Apollo joined the children sleeping in the back. “I have an idea,” Mr. Ginger said, waking me from a doze.
At the first crossroad I unloaded the passengers and we created wheel tracks east with the help of water from a nearby stream.
“He won’t be fooled by that, will he?” I asked.
“Could it hurt?” asked Mr. Ginger. “And it raises the spirits.”
He was right. The children had great sport running backward behind the wagon with branches to sweep away their footprints and our real tracks in the dust of the northbound road. Even Bertha lumbered along like a bear at play on her short, bowed arms and legs.
They were exhausted by the time Apollo ordered them back into the wagon.
“The lady’s still sleeping,” said Bertha, peeking in a lower bunk.
“When’s she gonna wake up?” asked Willie.
“What you been telling these kids?” growled Mr. Bopp.
