He lay breathing hard. A blood transfusion was being made. Bandages covered his skull.

“We can’t tell you anything yet,” one of the doctors said, and he stayed a long time, looking down at the dark, expressionless face; then he heard the voice that was not a voice and went out and walked through Jeremiah Street. . . .

“I wish I could offer some hope,” Doctor Grant said, “but—it’s a strange thing about head injuries, Mr. Green. There are only two kinds: bad and very bad. The human head is like an egg. You can’t ‘almost’ crack it, or crack it halfway. Your friend is an old man. He has sustained compound fractures, and the shock to the brain—”

Joey nodded. “Can I go in?”

“It won’t do any harm. But if you want my opinion, you’re putting yourself through a lot of unnecessary discomfort.”

“You mean he won’t wake up?”

“Very probably not. He might, but the chances are slim.”

“I can’t leave him alone.”

“He isn’t alone. The nurses—”

Joey turned and walked down the hall and carefully opened the door.

There was no change in Reverend Finley Mead. He lay in exactly the same position, still as a discarded doll. No longer did he seem tall and brave and strong. No longer the man who had told Joey about the Tiger.

Doctor Grant appeared in the doorway, nodded at the nurse; she walked out.

Joey heard: “Tracheotomy may be needed; Dr. Henderson—”

And: “I’ve talked to Dr. Henderson. There doesn’t seem much point to it.”

The old man’s breathing was ragged.

Between breaths, there would come a silence deeper than any other silence, for Joey would hold his breath also, automatically, waiting.

He sat and stared at the preacher.

Now was the time to think. The others had been turned away; a night would pass before the relatives’ arrival; time to think.

But he could not. Only the despair he’d felt before was in him; the futility; and the red words trailing through his mind: I’ll find them and I’ll kill them for this.

The vigil lengthened and still the old man did not move. From time to time the doctor came in and checked him and went out again.

I’ll kill them, said the words.

Then, so much later, after he had waited for that breath and it had, incredibly, finally come, Joey tore himself away from the bed and glared down at the preacher.