"YOU READ MINDS?"

Anderson Bush said, "It would take a hundred men to find anything out here tonight- If there's anything for them to find."

"Let me have the light a minute," said Thomas. "I thought I saw something gleam way over in yonder."

Thomas took the light and, guided by the tugs of Little Jon's hands on his sleeve, plunged deeper into the woods.

Little Jon stopped suddenly before a clump of small cedars growing close to the ground. There was nothing to be seen until he reached in with the toe of his boot and raked out the butt of a fishing rod.

Thomas whistled softly. "They really had them hidden," he muttered. "Bush will never believe we didn't know where they were. Careful, don't touch anything with your hands."

Thomas raised his voice and called the deputy.

Little Jon watched while Anderson Bush carefully drew two fishing rods, a tackle box, and an expensive target rifle from under the cedars. The deputy remained grimly silent until he had tied the fishing rods and the tackle box together with his handkerchief and looped the gun strap over his shoulder.

"Mr. Bean," he said at last, "you not only have a very convenient memory, but you and that boy have an exceptional ability to locate things you claim you have no knowledge of. But I'll ask you no more questions. I'll leave that to the court."

"Very well," snapped Thomas, "if that's the way you want to play it. But make sure you check all the fingerprints on those things, and in the house at Holliday's as well."

"You can depend on that, Mr. Bean."

Rascal was whining forlornly when they got back, begging for Little Jon to take him out. Little Jon went over and petted him, quieting him with a promise for tomorrow, then followed Thomas into the house. It had been a long and difficult day, and he knew that Thomas was badly upset by all that happened. That was the worst of it-knowing how Thomas felt and knowing it had all come about because the Beans were trying to help him.

Tonight, if it would have made matters any easier for the Beans, he would not have hesitated to go away. He could leave his knife in payment for Rascal, and he and the big dog could take their chances in the forest. But it was too late for that. It solved nothing, and it would only make things harder for Thomas.

Sally and Brooks were still eating when they reached the kitchen. They were bursting with questions, but Mary Bean silenced them. "You look beat," she said anxiously to Thomas. "What happened up at Macklins'?"

Thomas told her. "So," he finished wearily, "the cats about out of the bag. Or it will be soon, if Bush has his way."

"Why do some people want to make so much trouble?" Mary asked. "But we'll talk about it after you eat. You two get washed and come to the table."

They cleaned up and ate silently. Finally Little Jon said unhappily, "I'm awfully sorry about all this, Mr. Beans. I wish I could do something to, to. . ."

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry?"

"Because of the trouble I'm causing."

Thomas sat up. "If there's any apologizing to be done, I'm the one to do it. I apologize for the stupidity and meanness of some of the people you've met here. Actually there are nice people in this world, only they are not enough of them. It's just too bad that the troublemaking kind keep all the rest of us on the jump and makes things the way they are. Maybe nature intended it that way-to kee prodding us so well learn faster I don't really know." He spread his hands. "I wish I knew what Bush is going to do."

"When he left," said Little Jon, "he was thinking about the Marines and finding out about Captain O'Connor."

Mary Bean gasped. "Oh, no! That would tie it."

Sally, helping with the dishes, said, "Jon, how did you know what Mr. Bush was thinking?"

"I... Just knew."

Sally wrinkled her nose at him. "I know how you knew."

In a stage whisper she added aloofly, "you read minds."

Brooks gaped at her. "You're crazy as a hoot owl!"

Mry said, "Sally!"

But Sally went on quickly, "Jon can! I've know it since yesterday. It's, oh lots of little things, like always passing me the right dish at the table before I ask for it." She made a face at Brooks. "You didn't know it, smartie. That proves girls are smarter than boys -except that Jon's smarter than any of us. I think it's wonderful. I wish I could do what he can."

"Thank Pete you can't," Brooks said with feeling. "Life wouldn't be worth living around here." He stared at Little Jon. "Sally's only kidding, isn't she?"

Thomas Bean said, "Its true, Brooks, but stow that down your hatch and keep it battened." He frowned at Mary. "If Bush finds out about the O'Connors, that's all he needs to know. Fingerprints won't matter. He'll haul us into court, and we'll be forced to tell everything."

Thomas began snapping his fingers. Suddenly he lurched to his feet. "I'm going to call Miss Josie and arranea private talk with her. She's the only really understanding person around here, and if she knows the facts ahead of time, she'll. . . What's the matter, Mary?"

Mary was shaking her head. "I've already tried to get her on the phone. I got worried while you were up at Macklins' that I had to do something. Miss Josie is away tonight. Tomorrow she's got a busy morning in Court, and she's flying to Washington immediately afterward. She won't be back till Monday."

Thomas sat down amd began snapping his fingers again. Little Jon asked, "Who is Miss Josie?"

"She's Mrs. Cunningham," Mary told him. "Judge Cunningham, really. But everyone calls her Miss Josie. She handles all juvenile cases. I wish we could talk to her!"

She looked knowingly at Thomas. "Did you have any luck this morning... Rock hunting?"

"Yes. Very good luck. I'm taking Jon back first thing tomorrow. It may help his memory."

"Hey, can I go with you?" Brooks asked. "School's out, and. . ."

"No," Thomas said firmly, "This us too important. Jon has got to recover his memory. His best Chan is to start over there on the mountain, where he first found himself. We can't have anyone along."

"It's way past bedtime," Mary reminded them, "and it's been a day. Everybody scoot. Off to bed."