Harry took out a cigarette, and lit it with the engraved Dunhill lighter that John Singing Rock had sent him at Thanksgiving. He blew smoke out of the side of his mouth and watched Andy closely, trying to size up what kind of Red Indian personality was concealing itself inside this small boy’s brain. It certainly wasn’t as dazzling as the mind of Misquamacus, judging from his first encounters with the greatest of all the wonder-workers. But it was dignified and powerful and proud, and he was quite sure that it would be quite enough on its own to wipe out all of them—him and Neil Fenner and Singing Rock and half of Bodega.

Harry said, “You’re going to call down Ossadagowah?”

Andy didn’t reply, but continued to stare at him fixedly.

“From what I’ve heard, that would be kind of dangerous to everyone around, including Indians,” Harry remarked. “Isn’t Ossadagowah the great demon that nobody can send back to the stars? The demon that only returns outside of its own free will?”

Andy said huskily, “You believe you know much, white man, but your knowledge is like one grain of sand in the deserts. It will not help you, neither will your traitorous friend Singing Rock.”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? We licked Misquamacus before.”

“You achieved nothing. What you did served only to give him more strength than ever. This time he will return whole and with his powers intact, and you shall understand before you die the true meaning of strong medicine.”

Harry smoked for while in silence. Then he said, “Okay. I get your warning. The day of the dark stars is coming and you’re going to knock us all around the ball park. At least, you think you are.”

Andy gave a small, unpleasant smile. Then he turned his head slightly, so that he was looking toward Harry’s rented Pinto, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He repeated three times, “An-hut-ko, an-hut-ko, an-hut-ko.”

Harry turned around. Smoke was beginning to rise from under the Pinto’s hood, and from out of the rear-wheel arches. He yelled at the top of his voice, “Neil! Get Toby out of that car!”

Neil, shocked and surprised, immediately pushed forward the folding front seat and lifted Toby out of the back.

“Now run!” shouted Harry.

Henry Beaver had hefted himself off his lawn chair and was looking at Harry in blank amazement. But then there was a sharp crackling of fire, and flames started to lick out of the Pinto’s radiator and air vents.

“Your goddamn car’s on fire!” said Mr. Beaver, in disbelief. “You can’t burn your goddamn car in front of my house!”