range coat move behind the side of the shed.
Johnny studied the figure in the distance. “It’s the doc, all right,” he whispered. “He’s just standing there waiting for me, I guess, but let’s wait and watch a while.”
Jocko shrugged, then moved into the shadows of some pines and vanished. Had Johnny not seen it for himself he wouldn’t have believed it. Though Johnny saw where Jocko went, the sasquatch actually seemed to disappear when it stopped moving. Johnny dismissed it as a trick of the light.
His eyes returned to Doc Hannington. He wanted to just walk over to him but something held him back.
Minutes passed and the shadows deepened as night approached, but the doctor stayed near the shed. Finally Johnny decided that he had to act. He looked back at Jocko, then went back up the track about fifty feet to a place where the doctor couldn’t see. There he crossed the tracks and walked back to the shed.
When the doc saw Johnny coming toward him he called to him. “There you are, Johnny. Where’n Sam Hill did you get to? I’ve been looking for you all over.”
Casually, Johnny looked around. He saw the place where Jocko was waiting but didn’t see him. “Dr Hannington,” said Johnny. “Where’s Jocko? There’s no sign of him or his cage, and somebody even changed the lock.” He pointed to the shed.
The doctor looked sullen. “Where’ve you been, Johnny?
And what on earth did you do to your leg?”
Johnny looked at his torn and bloodied trouser leg. “Fell down, I guess. It ain’t nothin’. I been looking all over for Jocko, or anyone. I left Tilly here.” Johnny was getting sick of lying, but he didn’t know who to trust. Moreover, he had made a pact with Jocko.
The doctor got down on one knee to examine Johnny’s leg. His action forced a wave of guilt in Johnny. “Gee, Doc …
I …” he began, but bit his tongue.
His aunt had always trusted Hannington. Gert was among Yale’s long-term citizenry, and she had helped the doctor to start his practice. To Johnny the doctor was one of Yale’s permanent fixtures. But he had lots of patients, and chief among them was the mayor. So for the moment Johnny kept quiet about Jocko.
“They took Jocko to Seattle,” answered Dr Hannington. “I got here about eight this mornin’ and found Costerson and Craig, and a guy I didn’t know, loading Jocko’s cage on a train. They put a tarp over the cage so’s no one could see it wasn’t freight.”
Johnny was stunned by the doctor’s apparent honesty.
“I’m sorry, John.” He noted Johnny’s expression of shock.
“I don’t know. There seemed no way – no reason to stop them. I knew you’d be sad about this, though. I wish …”
Across the tracks Johnny could see a dark shadow among the trees. Jocko was standing, watching them.
“Well,” the doctor continued, apparently oblivious to the figure standing across the tracks, “I don’t think they’ll hurt Jocko. I mean, Barnum’s Circus isn’t so bad a place. It’s so strange a critter. My god, I’m almost sure it was one of those mountain apes the Indians whisper about. If so … well, it’s too important for Yale. Anyway, you couldn’t have cared for it.
The circus will be …”
“But the circus?” Johnny glared at the doctor. “Barnum’s circus in the States?”
“Yes. Craig said they received a cable from Barnum’s agent saying he wanted the ape-boy for his sideshow or whatever.”
“Sideshow? But he was hurt,” bleated Johnny. “You wouldn’t move him if he was hurt, would you? We don’t even know what the heck he was or if he maybe belonged to some Indian tribe.” Johnny was playing his role so well he began to fool himself.
“Well, Johnny,” said the doc, reaching into his jacket for a cigar. “He did seem okay to me when we saw him sitting there on his cage big as you please. Damnedest thing. This whole business. Tell ya true, Johnny. I’m glad to be rid of it, and I’d think you would be,
Johnny studied the figure in the distance. “It’s the doc, all right,” he whispered. “He’s just standing there waiting for me, I guess, but let’s wait and watch a while.”
Jocko shrugged, then moved into the shadows of some pines and vanished. Had Johnny not seen it for himself he wouldn’t have believed it. Though Johnny saw where Jocko went, the sasquatch actually seemed to disappear when it stopped moving. Johnny dismissed it as a trick of the light.
His eyes returned to Doc Hannington. He wanted to just walk over to him but something held him back.
Minutes passed and the shadows deepened as night approached, but the doctor stayed near the shed. Finally Johnny decided that he had to act. He looked back at Jocko, then went back up the track about fifty feet to a place where the doctor couldn’t see. There he crossed the tracks and walked back to the shed.
When the doc saw Johnny coming toward him he called to him. “There you are, Johnny. Where’n Sam Hill did you get to? I’ve been looking for you all over.”
Casually, Johnny looked around. He saw the place where Jocko was waiting but didn’t see him. “Dr Hannington,” said Johnny. “Where’s Jocko? There’s no sign of him or his cage, and somebody even changed the lock.” He pointed to the shed.
The doctor looked sullen. “Where’ve you been, Johnny?
And what on earth did you do to your leg?”
Johnny looked at his torn and bloodied trouser leg. “Fell down, I guess. It ain’t nothin’. I been looking all over for Jocko, or anyone. I left Tilly here.” Johnny was getting sick of lying, but he didn’t know who to trust. Moreover, he had made a pact with Jocko.
The doctor got down on one knee to examine Johnny’s leg. His action forced a wave of guilt in Johnny. “Gee, Doc …
I …” he began, but bit his tongue.
His aunt had always trusted Hannington. Gert was among Yale’s long-term citizenry, and she had helped the doctor to start his practice. To Johnny the doctor was one of Yale’s permanent fixtures. But he had lots of patients, and chief among them was the mayor. So for the moment Johnny kept quiet about Jocko.
“They took Jocko to Seattle,” answered Dr Hannington. “I got here about eight this mornin’ and found Costerson and Craig, and a guy I didn’t know, loading Jocko’s cage on a train. They put a tarp over the cage so’s no one could see it wasn’t freight.”
Johnny was stunned by the doctor’s apparent honesty.
“I’m sorry, John.” He noted Johnny’s expression of shock.
“I don’t know. There seemed no way – no reason to stop them. I knew you’d be sad about this, though. I wish …”
Across the tracks Johnny could see a dark shadow among the trees. Jocko was standing, watching them.
“Well,” the doctor continued, apparently oblivious to the figure standing across the tracks, “I don’t think they’ll hurt Jocko. I mean, Barnum’s Circus isn’t so bad a place. It’s so strange a critter. My god, I’m almost sure it was one of those mountain apes the Indians whisper about. If so … well, it’s too important for Yale. Anyway, you couldn’t have cared for it.
The circus will be …”
“But the circus?” Johnny glared at the doctor. “Barnum’s circus in the States?”
“Yes. Craig said they received a cable from Barnum’s agent saying he wanted the ape-boy for his sideshow or whatever.”
“Sideshow? But he was hurt,” bleated Johnny. “You wouldn’t move him if he was hurt, would you? We don’t even know what the heck he was or if he maybe belonged to some Indian tribe.” Johnny was playing his role so well he began to fool himself.
“Well, Johnny,” said the doc, reaching into his jacket for a cigar. “He did seem okay to me when we saw him sitting there on his cage big as you please. Damnedest thing. This whole business. Tell ya true, Johnny. I’m glad to be rid of it, and I’d think you would be,
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