Chapter 4

           Thebeanswerelikebullets,thecorntough.Outside,theprevailingwindsnuffledandwhinedaroundtheground-leveleaves.Heatequickly,ravenously,drinkingfourcupsofwaterwiththemeal.Halfwaythrough,therewasamachine-gunrappingatthedoor.BrowngotupandletZoltanin.Thebirdflewacrosstheroomandhunchedmoodilyinthecorner.

           "Musicalfruit,"hemuttered.

           Afterdinner,thegunslingerofferedhistobacco.

           -Now.Nowthequestionswillcome.

           ButBrownaskednoquestions.Hesmokedandlookedatthedyingembersofthefire.Itwasalreadynoticeablycoolerinthehovel.

           "Leadusnotintotemptation,"Zoltansaidsuddenly,apocalyptically.

           Thegunslingerstartedasifhehadbeenshotat.Hewassuddenlysurethatitwasanillusion,allofit(notadream,no;anenchantment),thatthemaninblackhadspunaspellandwastryingtotellhimsomethinginamaddeninglyobtuse,symbolicway.

           "HaveyoubeenthroughTull?"heaskedsuddenly.

           Brownnodded."Cominghere,andoncetosellcorn.Itrainedthatyear.Lastedmaybefifteenminutes.Thegroundjustseemedtoopenandsuckitup.Anhourlateritwasjustaswhiteanddryasever.Butthecorn-God,thecorn.Youcouldseeitgrow.Thatwasn’tsobad.Butyoucouldhearit,asiftherainhadgivenitamouth.Itwasn’tahappysound.Itseemedtobesighingandgroaningitswayoutoftheearth."Hepaused."Ihadextra,soItookitandsoldit.PappaDocsaidhe’ddoit,buthewouldhavecheatedme.SoIwent."

           "Youdon’tliketown?"

           "No."