“‘Gusty Winds May Exist’?” said Dirk. “You mean this is just a regular road sign?”

“Well, yeah,” said Joe. “Just means it’s a bit windy here. You know, wind comes across the desert. Can blow you around a bit. Especially in one of these.”

Dirk blinked. He suddenly felt rather foolish. He had been imagining, a little wildly, that someone had specially painted the name of a bisected cat on a signpost on a New Mexican road especially for his benefit. This was absurd. The cat in question had obviously been named after a perfectly commonplace American road sign. Paranoia, he reminded himself, was one of the normal by-products of jet lag and whisky.

Chastened, he walked back toward the car. Then he paused and thought for a second. He went up to Joe’s window and peered in.

“Joe,” he said. “You slowed the car down just as we were approaching the sign. Was that deliberately so that I would see it?” He hoped it wasn’t just the whisky and the jet lag talking.

“Oh no,” said Joe. “I was slowing down for the rhinoceros.”

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“PROBABLY THE JET LAG,” Dirk said. “I thought for a moment you said a rhinoceros.”

“Yeah,” said Joe, disgustedly. “Got held up by it earlier. As it was leaving the airport.”

Dirk tried to think this through before he said anything that might expose him to ridicule. Presumably there must be a local football team or rock band called the Rhinoceroses. Must be. Coming from the airport? Driving to Santa Fe? He was going to have to ask.

“What exact type of rhinoceros are we discussing here?” he said.

“Dunno. I’m not as good at breeds of rhinoceros,” said Joe, “as I am at accents. If it was an accent, I could tell you what exact type it was, but since it’s a rhinoceros I can only tell you that it’s one of the big grey type, you know, with the horn. From Irkutsk or one of those kinda places. You know, Portugal or somewhere.”

“You mean Africa?”

“Could be Africa.”

“And you say it’s up there on the road ahead of us?”

“Yup.”

“Then let’s get after it,” said Dirk. “Quickly.”

He climbed back into the car, and Joe eased it out onto the highway once more. Dirk hunched himself up at the front of the passenger compartment and peered over Joe’s shoulder as they sped on through the desert. In a few minutes the shape of a large truck loomed up ahead in the Cadillac’s headlights. It was a green low-loader with a large, slatted crate roped down on to it.

“So. You’re pretty interested in rhinoceroses, then,” said Joe conversationally.

“Not especially,” said Dirk. “Not till I read my horoscope this morning.”