Mr. Saperstein opened another of his desk drawers, shuffled through it like a rat looking for eggs in a hayloft, and at last produced a battered maroon diary. He licked his thumb and turned the pages until he came to the one he wanted.

“Moonrise tonight is 10:02,” he announced. “I presume that’s what you mean.”

“Thank you, Mr. Saperstein, it is,” said Singing Rock. “And that means we have less than ten hours to prepare ourselves. Quite apart from that, we don’t even know where the children are.”

“They went to Lake Berryessa,” said the music teacher. “It was their school outing.”

“They were supposed to go to Lake Berryessa,” said Singing Rock. “But remember the legend speaks of twenty-two medicine men.”

“So? What does that have to do with it?” asked Harry.

“It could have everything to do with it,” said Singing Rock. “There are only twenty-one children in the class, and therefore the twenty-second medicine man must be emerging inside one of the adults aboard that bus.”

“There’s only Mrs. Novato and the driver,” said Mr. Saperstein, aghast. “You don’t think that Mrs. Novato—?”

Harry said, “I wouldn’t have thought so myself. She didn’t look like the type. Too homely, even for your average medicine man from 1830.”

“Who’s the school bus driver?” asked Singing Rock.

“Well, it’s usually Jack Billets, from Valley Ford,” said Mr. Saperstein. “But I think he’s been off sick lately. I don’t know who they used today. I didn’t see him.”

Neil picked up Mr. Saperstein’s telephone and dialed the operator. When he was through, he said, “Amy? Is that you? Listen, this is very urgent. Do you have Jack Billets’s number, down at Valley Ford? Sure. Could you put me through?”

He waited a little while, and then they heard a faint voice at the other end of the telephone.

“Jack?” asked Neil. “This Neil Fenner. Yes. Hi. Listen, I heard you were sick. That’s right. Well, I hope it improves. But listen, Jack, do you know who’s taking the bus up to Lake Berryessa today? It’s pretty important, you know?”

The faint voice replied, and then Neil said, “Thanks, Jack. I’ll buy you a drink for that. Okay, fine. Thanks a whole lot.”

He set the phone down, and then looked at Harry and Singing Rock and let out a long, controlled breath. “The driver is an old retired sailor who sits around the dock at Bodega Bay. A guy named Doughty. I met him on Friday, and he did everything he could to persuade me not to go on with all the fuss I was making about the children. He said Susan had told him to talk to me. Now I know it was a damn sight more than Susan. It was Misquamacus.”

Neil tapped his finger against his head, and snapped, “It was Misquamacus, inside of here!”