Toby continued, “We are joined by the strength of the demons of the trees, and nothing can set us apart. The day is almost here. Let us be heard by the gods of elder times, from beyond the rings which guard the entrances of time and distance. Let us seek their power in taking our revenge.”

From the classroom window, Mrs. Novato could see the children gathered around Toby, listening to what he was saying with intent faces. She watched them for a while, and then she went across the porch into the next classroom, where Miss Martinez was chalking up the names of trees in preparation for her next lesson.

Mrs. Novato said, “Joan—look out of the window for a moment. Over there, by the annex.”

Miss Martinez put down her chalk and walked to the window. She said, “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“My children. Look at them. What do you think they could be doing?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Miss Martinez. “Playing, perhaps?”

“Yes, but playing what? They all look so serious. And you never find the whole class playing together like that, not usually.”

Miss Martinez looked for a few moments more, and then went back to her blackboard. “Don’t ask me,” she told Mrs. Novato. “Children are always plotting something or other.”

*

That afternoon, out on the wharf at Bodega Bay, while Neil was putting the finishing touches to the brasswork on the White Dove, Dave Conway came out from the fish market and called him.

“Neil—there’s a long-distance call. Sounds like someone called aspirin.”

“Thanks,” said Neil, and climbed onto the jetty. He walked quickly under a sky that was hazy but cloudless, and he wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

Inside the fish market, there was a sweet, salty smell of crabs and flounders and bass, and the telephone was sticky with scales. He picked it up and said, “Yes?”

“Neil Fenner? This is Harry Erskine. Listen, I have some news for you.”

“News? What kind of news?”

“Bad news, mainly. I talked this morning to John Singing Rock out in South Dakota. He’s a medicine man, you know? But a modern one. I mean, he knows all the old spells but he tries to apply them in an up-to-date way.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that he’d heard of the day of the dark stars, and he was sure that what you told me was genuine.”

Neil switched the receiver from one ear to the other. “Is that all? He’s sure I’m genuine? Listen, I wouldn’t have called you if I hadn’t been genuine. I wouldn’t have known your name, even. There was no way I practically got myself killed because of an overworked imagination.”