Charles Beaumont - Selected Stories Part 21

A girl in a gingham dress whispered: "Why didn't you use your magic?"

Dr. Silk shook his head. "That wouldn't have been fair," he said. "Would it?"

"I guess not," the girl sighed.

Dr. Silk straightened up, careful not to groan. A boy with round eyes and pale cheeks said: "What'd you do then?"

"Well, between crocodiles and cannibals, a smart man will always pick cannibals. That's what I did, too. 'Come on,' I told them. 'I'll fight you by twos or by threes!' But they didn't listen. Just kept coming. Then when I closed my eyes and could almost feel that blade zipping through my neck, they surprised me. Picked me up bodily and threw me in a canoe and we paddled down the Amazon to this here place, the Sandwich Island. That's where they all lived, you see. Well, I got there and in two shakes those head-hunters had me in this pot--great big old pot, like a kettle, rusty, made of iron. My hands was tied, so I couldn't do nothing but watch while they poured in the water and threw in some apples, bunches of carrots, and about ten heads of lettuce - "What were they aiming to do, Dr. Silk?"

"That's a silly question, boy." Dr. Silk's voice sank to a dreadful murmur. "They were aiming to cook me alive."

A girl put her hands to her lips. Some of the older boys giggled nervously and fell silent again.

Now they were all walking. The grown-ups on the porches didn't bother them because they knew Dr. Silk and they knew what he meant to the children. Secretly, a lot of them wished they could join the crowd and listen to the wonderful stories; but, of course, that would not be fitting.

Pa.s.sing the Two Forks Feed and Grain Store, mincing along, barely moving at all, Dr. Silk and his parade made those with book learning think of the Pied Piper of Hamelin...

"What happened then, sir?"

"Well, you might know that along about now I was beginning to feel pretty low. The flames was crackling and the water was boiling and those seven-foot black demons sat hunched down on their hams, waiting. Just--waiting.""Did you holler?"

"Wouldn't do no good. Who'd hear me?"

"G.o.ddy."

"I began to sweat some then, and I could see myself all decked out on the table with an apple stuck in my mouth, when there came this eerie kind of scream. Like this"--Dr. Silk cupped his hands around his mouth and emitted a low cry, something like an owl, something like a coyote--"Owoooo!

'What's that?' I said, but they just looked sad and wouldn't answer. Then I saw over across the island, by the water, was a great big castle made out of colored rocks."

"That's where the noise was coming from?"

"Right. And it wouldn't stop, either. _Owooo! Owooo!_ Sent the cold s.h.i.+vers down my spine.

But I seen there was no sense in my worrying about that--not with the water bubbling and boiling all around me like a stew. Finally there was nothing else left to do, except . . ."

"You magicked them!"

"Only a little. I said the magic words that made the ropes around my hands and feet vanish and in a second I was out of the pot. Say, I want you to know that I did some running then! Dripping carrots and lettuce and what-all, I kept about two feet ahead. Anyone here ever try to dodge a spear while they were running?"

No one ever had.

"It wasn't easy. I could feel them shafts whistling by my ears no more than an inch. Looked like I was done for, when one of the spears got into my s.h.i.+rt: it must of been tossed mighty hard, because it lifted me up off the ground and carried me right across the island like a bird. Probably would of dumped me smackdab in the ocean if I hadn't got off, too. But I did get off, and landed right at the door of the castle. Heard the screaming, then, louder than before, so I rushed in, slammed the door in the nick of time, and went to investigate."

"Was it a haunted castle?"

Dr. Silk frowned. "Boy, I could tell you it was haunted, but that would be a lie."

"Just an ordinary castle?"

"Ordinary as it could be, except for all the shrunk-up heads on the walls. Well, I went through a lot of corridors, and then sure enough, there, laying in state, was the king of Sandwich Island. It didn't take no more than a glance to see he was ailing with a rare tropical disease, the kind that makes your toes drop off. And holler? You'd of thought he was trying to call home a G.o.d. And there I was. It was my opportunity to run out the back way and escape to my freedom--but I couldn't do it."

"Why not?" the freckled boy asked.

"Because of the king. You never let a man die without trying to help, do you?"

"But them head-hunters are gonna get you any second!"

"It was a risk I had to take. Moving fast, I reached into my satchel and brought out a bottle of special medicine. I could hear the door splintering, so I cracked the neck of the gla.s.s on the wall and opened the king's mouth and poured her all in. And do you know what?"

"What?"

"By the time those cannibals busted in, their ruler was setting up, well as the day he was born. Of course, that changed their att.i.tude in a hurry. They wanted to shake my hand, but I refused, after what they had done to Captain Ruyker and my friends on the boat. Still, they said, I had to be paid back. So the king thought a spell and finally decided to give me his son for a slave."

"Obadiah?"

"None other. He's been with me ever since, and a truer friend you couldn't ask."

There was the sound of held-breath suddenly released.

"Does he ever try to--" The girl in the gingham dress still looked terrified.

Dr. Silk smiled. "It's only happened twice since that day in 1840. You may be sure I made him take back the heads and apologize. I don't think there's anything to worry about now."

Down the street, coming out of a saloon, with his arms full of posters, Obadiah stopped and grinned, widely: a crescent of glittering white shone from the dusky face. He waved.The children shuddered.

"Well," Dr. Silk said, "you kids run along now. I'll be seeing you tonight."

"You got any new magic for us?"

"Oh, _lots_ of new magic, son. You wait."

"We'll be there. We will."

The dust snowed up around all the skinny wool-wrapped legs as the children broke and scattered and ran home to count the minutes.

Dr. Silk chuckled, straightened his shoulders, and walked imperially to the Wild Silver Saloon. Its pleated batwings swung noiselessly inward, and back. He made his way to the stained oak bar and said, "Applejack, please," and began to dig for coins.

The bartender set down the gla.s.s. "On the house," he said.

"Thank you very much."

"You're the magician."

"I am."

"I seen you last year when you was in Two Forks, and the year before that." The bartender was a huge man: clumped black hair covered his arms and head, the tops of his fingers, the top of his nose, like the pelt of a muddied coyote. It was strange to see such a man smile. Yet he smiled now, and Dr.

Silk wondered for a moment how it would have been if Micah Jackson had just walked in instead of the Magic Man.

"Putting on a show tonight, are you?"

"Yes, indeed. I hope that you can come."

"I'll do that," the bartender said, "if I can get me a subst.i.tute." He went over to a thin man at the end of the bar and Dr. Silk watched and listened and forgot that there lived a lonely, withered old man named Micah Jackson, too tired to care, too old to run, ready for death to catch up.

The men in the bar had their eyes fastened on him. As they would if he were the President: more than that, though, more than mere respect. These were adults, some of them with years painted into their faces, tottering grandfathers; and still, were their eyes much different from children's, now? He studied their eyes in the big bar mirror.

There was respect, yes; a little fear, perhaps; and love--certainly there was that, abundantly.

Why? he wondered, as he always did. Was it because he was a man who could fool them with illusions? Only because he knew how to make pigeons fly out of an ordinary hat?

He threw down the rest of the applejack and hoped this wasn't the answer. The liquid warmed a path. Perhaps, he thought, it was because he brought a little honest wonder into their lives one night out of the year .

Then he remembered the prairie that surrounded this small and weary town. And the applejack made him want to turn and say something to the men. You don't have to wait for me, he wanted to say.

Just open your eyes: there's magic in the air. Show me a tree, I'll show you a trick no magician alive could ever do. The dust underneath your boots is a riddle to keep you up nights: What did it used to be before it was dust? Mountains? And the sun! Hey, keep your eyes on the yellow ball--now it's there, now it isn't. Where does it go to? And why? A stone, a hill, a lake--now there's tricks that are tricks, gentlemen!

There is magic for you. And I'd give a lot to figure out how they're done, yes, sir, a lot .

But he didn't say any of this. Instead he ordered another drink and reached over and calmly withdrew a bouquet from a small man's vest. The man jumped back and stared.

"Better shut your mouth, Jeff," the bartender said, winking, "or he'll be taking something out of it you won't want to see!"

The man closed his mouth and everybody laughed.

They gathered around, then, at this signal. "Show us another one now, come on. Give us a rabbit."

Dr. Silk vanished the bouquet and pulled a cartwheel from nowhere.

"Give us a rabbit!"

"Now, boys, I got to save something for tonight. Even magicians have to eat, you know.""That so? I'd of thought you'd conjure up a steak whenever you felt like it!"

"Well, that's true. But they never taste so good, somehow. Though I do remember one experience when I had no choice in the matter. It was in Russia, and I hadn't et anything but bugs for seventeen days and nights . .

The bartender leaned forward, wiping slowly at a thick gla.s.s mug. "You was in Russia?"

"Oh yes," Dr. Silk said. "Got a good friend there--only man I know who can outshoot me. He once knocked the wings off a beetle at fifty paces. And--well, when things get on the dull side, I take a little trip and visit him. Of course, he's always glad to see me, since if it hadn't been for Doc Silk, he'd probably _still_ be sitting on that flagpole . . ."

Every man in the bar had now joined the group. Dr. Silk looked around, took a breath, and began to talk.

He knew they would believe him. After all, how can you doubt the word of a man who pulls roses out of the air?

Obadiah rang the bells; the crowd hushed; Dr. Silk walked through the curtained tunnel from the wagon to the stage.

He bowed gravely. A creature he was from another world, as strange in this tiny Kansas town as a comet. Oil lamps from below threw unearthly light across his face, curving the shadow of his mustaches up into the squints of his eyes. He was unreal. At any moment he might turn into a hawk or crumble into a little heap of stars or snap his fingers and change night into day.

"Ladies and gentlemen--" His voice was smooth and deep, a roar of ocean. "--and good friends!"

Far away there was the snorting of restless ponies; otherwise the town was silent, gathered here.

Children sat on boxes or their fathers's shoulders: a few were squeezed as close to the platform as they could get, squirrel-eyed already, watching.

"The wonders I have brought to you tonight are here for your edification and enjoyment. They were taught to me by an East Indian princess, in exchange for saving her life. Before that eventful happenstance on the Fiji Isles, I was an ordinary man, possessed of no more powers than you . . . or you . . ." His finger jabbed out, pointing to one and then to another. ". . . or you. Then I learned the Mysteries of the Ages, and dedicated myself to bringing them to the people of the United States, my home. Later on I'll tell you all about a magic remedy that you can't get anywhere else--you all know it by now. But first: On with the show!"

And with a twist of his wrist, Dr. Silk plucked a crimson handkerchief out of the air. While the people watched, he balled the cloth into his fist, held it, and said, "Allakazam!" and shook loose _five_ handkerchiefs, all knotted together, all different colors.

Applause tumbled out over the stage. Shouts and laughter and shrill little cries. Micah Jackson's body became inhabited by a demon: the demon made legs hop that could never have hopped otherwise; the old man in the black suit moved about the stage with youthful, fluid grace, prancing, bowing, skittering.

Rapidly, he pulled wonders from his sleeves. He borrowed a young cowboy's hat and broke six eggs into it and then made the eggs disappear: Presto! He showed the people two bright yellow hoops, eternally joined as the links of a chain. Strong men tried to pull the hoops apart. Clever men searched for the tiny hinges that had to be there, and weren't. Ordinary hoops? Very well. _Rickety-rack_, _pom pety-pom!_ And with a flourish, Dr. Silk separated the hoops and sent them rolling away.

The applause was guns going off now, it was horses stampeding. Dr. Silk ate it and drank it, and knew that of all the places he had ever been, Two Forks loved him most. He'd actually thought he had been slipping, losing the love that nourished him--and listen to them now!

Obadiah, looking fierce and mysterious in the light, as a head-hunter ought to look, put the miracles away with immense style. Sometimes--on times like this--the old man seemed to forget that he had joined Dr. Silk as the result of a bet: he seemed to remember far-off jungles of Arabian Deserts orfloating islands in the clouds. Obadiah was old, he partook of the wonder against his will.

Now Dr. Silk was crawling inside a coffin, and the eyes of the people broadened, and their fists clenched, and their breath stopped in their throats.

Obadiah's voice boomed majestically. "Will somebody from the audience kindly step up and nail down the lid?"

A farmer let friends push him up onto the stage. He grinned foolishly, and winked, and put his shoulders into the hammer. The farmer went back into the crowd, full of triumph. "He's foxed now, you can wager. He's in that box for good!"

Obadiah stretched his arms and held up a lavender curtain and counted: "One! Two! Three!

Four! Are you ready, Doctor?"

"Ready!"

And there was Dr. Silk, standing by the coffin, bowing.

The people stomped, shouted, yelled, thumped, while the children kept crying, "How'd you do it?

Tell us how you did it!"

The miracles went on, wrapping the people of Two Forks tighter and tighter in the spell. Time ceased to exist, while rabbits hopped out of top hats and cards flew loose like wild pigeons, only to fly back again, and chairs and tables floated on the still night air.

"Pick a card, sir. Any card."

(_The pains were coming back, getting into his bones_.) "Well, I don't know--"

"Got it?"

(_Hot pains, knifing. Get away!_) "Yeah, I guess so!"

"Is there--" Dr. Silk had to gasp to keep the hurting from his body "--is there any way I could have seen that card, sir?"

"Not that I know of there ain't."

"Sure about that?"