The men edged forward. And at the moment they reached the edge of the pit, Hugo emerged from his fort. He saw the men with sudden fear. He tried to hide.

“Hey!” they said. He did not move, but he heard them scrambling slowly toward the spot where he lay.

“Dressed in civilized clothes,” the first professor said in a loud voice as his eye located Hugo in the underbrush. “Hey!”

Hugo showed himself. “What?”

“Who are you?”

“Hugo Danner.”

“Oh—old Danner’s boy, eh?”

Hugo did not like the tone in which they referred to his father. He made no reply.

“Can you tell us anything about these ruins?”

“What ruins?”

They pointed to his fort. Hugo was hurt. “Those aren’t ruins. I built that fort. It’s to fight Indians in.”

The pair ignored his answer and started toward the fort. Hugo did not protest. They surveyed its weighty walls and its relatively new roof.

“Looks recent,” Smith said.

“This child has evidently renovated it. But it must have stood here for thousands of years.”

“It didn’t. I made it—mostly last week.”

They noticed him again. Whitaker simpered. “Don’t lie, young man.”

Hugo was sad. “I’m not lying. I made it. You see—I’m strong.” It was as if he had pronounced his own damnation.

“Tut, tut.” Smith interrupted his survey. “Did you find it?”

“I built it.”

“I said”—the professor spoke with increasing annoyance—“I said not to tell me stories any longer. It’s important, young man, that we know just how you found this dolmen and in what condition.”

“It isn’t a dolly—whatever you said—it’s a fort and I built it and I’m not lying.”

The professor, in the interests of science, made a grave mistake. He seized Hugo by the arms and shook him. “Now, see here, young man, I’ll have no more of your impertinent lip. Tell me just what you’ve done to harm this noble monument to another race, or, I swear, I’ll slap you properly.” The professor had no children. He tried, at the same time, another tack, which insulted Hugo further. “If you do, I’ll give you a penny—to keep.”

Hugo wrenched himself free with an ease that startled Smith. His face was dark, almost black. He spoke slowly, as if he was trying to piece words into sense. “You—both of you—you go away from here and leave me or I’ll break your two rotten old necks.”

Whitaker moved toward him, and Smith interceded. “We better leave him—and come back later.” He was still frightened by the strength in Hugo’s arms. “The child is mad. He may have hydrophobia. He might bite.” The men moved away hastily. Hugo watched them climb the wall. When they reached the top, he called gently. They wheeled.