Working, Will glanced off at the pure color of night turning toward morn and saw the balloon trying to make decisions on the wind. Did it sense, would it come back? Would she mark the roof again, and they have to wash it off, and she mark it, and they wash it, until dawn? Yes, if need be.
If only, thought Will, I could stop the Witch for good. They don't know our names or where we live, Mr. Cooger's too near dead to remember or tell. The Dwarf--if he is the lightning-rod man--is mad--and, God willing, won't recollect! And they won't dare bother Miss Foley until morning. So, grinding their teeth way out in the meadows, they've sent the Dust Witch to search....
"I'm a fool," grieved Jim, quietly, rinsing the roof where the lightning rod had been. "Why didn't I leave it up?"
"Lightning hasn't struck yet," Will said. "And if we jump lively, it won't. Now--over here!"
They showered the roof.
&
nbsp; Below, someone put down a window.
"Mom." Jim laughed, bleakly. "She thinks it's raining."
Chapter 30
THE RAIN ceased.
The roof was clean.
They let the hose snake away to thump on the night grass a thousand miles below.
Beyond town, the balloon still paused between un-promising midnight and promised and hoped-for sun.
"Why's she waiting?"
"Maybe she smells what we're up to."
They went back down through the attic and soon were in separate rooms and beds after many fevers and chills of talk and now lay quietly separate listening to hearts and clocks beat too quickly toward dawn.
Whatever they do, thought Will, we must do it first. He wished the balloon might fly back, the Witch might guess they had washed her mark off and soar down to trace the roof again. Why?
Because.
He found himself staring at his Boy Scout archery set, the big beautiful bow and quiver of arrows arranged on the east wall of his room.
Sorry, Dad, he thought, and sat up, smiling. This time it's me out, alone. I don't want her going back to report on us for hours, maybe days.
He grabbed the bow and quiver from the wall, hesitated, thinking, then stealthily ran the window up and leaned out. No need to holler loud and long, no. But just think real hard. They can't read thoughts, I know, that's sure, or they wouldn't send her, and she can't read thoughts, but she can feel body heat and special temperatures and special smells and excitements, and if I jump up and down and let her know just by my feeling good about having tricked her maybe, maybe ...
Four o'clock in the morning, said a drowsy clock chime, off in another land.
Witch, he thought, come back.
Witch, he thought louder and let his blood pound, the roof's clean, hear!? We made our own rain! You got to come back and re-mark it! Witch ...?
And the Witch moved.
He felt the earth turn under the balloon.
Okay, Witch, come on, there's just me, the no-name boy, you can't read my mind, but here's me spitting on you! and here's me yelling we tricked you, and the general idea gets through, so come on, come on! dare! double-dare you!
Miles away, there was a gasp of assent rising, coming near.
Holy cow, he thought suddenly, I don't want her back to this house! Come on! He thrashed into his clothes.
Clutching his weapons, he aped down the hidden ivy rungs and dogged the wet grass.