I made it into a crouch but I have never in my very long life been in a tighter spot. If I turned to run the human Cyclops would jump and take me down. If I stayed there all he had to do was reach out and seize me.

In that standoff, which lasted no more than two seconds, I noticed that Mr. Stewart's eye-patch was made from wrought iron. All across, the metal was etched with delicate designs. In spite of my situation I wondered, Where could he get such a thing?

Mr. Stewart bent down a bit and I knew he was about to jump. I prepared to avoid his lunge but my chances, I knew, were no better than even.

The slave boss grinned.

"Begone!" The word boomed all around us.

I was amazed by the splendor of that voice but Mr. Stewart grabbed his head and fell to his knees. When he went down I could see John a few paces behind him. He was standing tall and regally.

"Begone!" he intoned again, and Stewart raised up on all fours and scampered away like a cur running from a lion.

"Quickly," John said to me then. "We must be away

from here."

"What about Mama Flore?" I cried.

"There is no time," he said. "Big trouble will be here

soon."

_20.

The next thing I knew we were running through the woods, moving quickly between the boughs and branches. My feet were sure and swift and I didn't have to rely on holding onto my friend.

After we had had run for some time I stopped. When he realized that I was no longer following him John stopped too.

"Come on," he said. "We have to get away from here before he comes."

"You already chased Mr. Stewart away," I argued.

"Not the ghoul but his master," John said.

"Who?"

"The one you know as Andrew Pike."

I remembered the tall man on the chestnut mare who had interrupted poor Ned's funeral. For some reason it set off a thrilling in my heart. But I refused to give in to fear.

"Why would he be coming after the Corinthian?" I asked. "I thought he was only after you and that green powder."

"He is," John said. "He thinks we're on the plantation. He'll go there first. In the meantime we can get away. You don't know enough yet to protect yourself from his power."

"But what will he do to the peoples on the plantation?"

"I don't know," John said. "But I'm sure that he will come in force."

"But what about Mama Flore and Champ and all the

other slaves?"

"All we can do is hope that they survive the attack," the strange bronze-colored boy said, hanging his head down.

"Attack? What attack?"

"It's like I told you before. Pike wants something that I have my machine. It has the power to dig into the earth and excavate the green powder. With that he could start a chain reaction that would disrupt the entire universe. He would kill every being on this planet to obtain my machine. So you see I can't go back and help the others."

Something about the light that John put into my chest allowed me to understand his words. I understood the word planet and what that entailed. I could almost see all the species of life throughout the world: trillions of hearts and minds from the lowliest insect to the great sperm

whale.

"But every life is holy," I said, somehow knowing this was the truth. "And without Mama Flore I'm sure I would have died a long time ago. If she had let me die I would never be able to help you and your people."

"We can't go back," John said.

"We have to," I countered.

When our eyes met I understood the relationship between the disguised alien and me. He had seen stars up close and the infinite variety of the place he called Universe. I had seen suffering and hard-won survival for every moment of my brief existence. And, while he knew much more than I did, I had a deeper knowledge of what it meant to be on the brink of losing everything. That's why he needed me, because I would make the choice for living

against any odds.

I think these same thoughts went through Tall John's

mind because he bowed his head again.

"You are the chosen hero," he said. "I must follow." And even though I wanted him to say that he would go

with me to try and help my slave family I had to wonder

why he would do so.

"What do you mean chosen?" I asked. "How was I

chosen and who in hell chose me?"

"The answer, like your true name, Forty-seven, is in your blood. You and a few others like you have the perfect blood code to hold the powers of the Tamal. And you, unlike many others, have a pure heart and an innocent view of the world. Even the fact that you would go back to your friends after almost being killed by Wall's ghoul proves that you have a brave soul and true spirit."

"What happened to Mr. Stewart?" I asked then.

come upon him before the vitality had gone out of his blood. Wall resurrected him to do his bidding."

"If he can do all that then why can't he build his own machine to dig down in the ground for that powder?"

"The Calash are not as evolved in technology as are the

Tamal," John said. "They work mainly with biology. They

even travel through space using certain unique qualities of

their anatomy. Wall needs my machine or it will be more

than a century before he will receive the power to try again."

"So it's our job to keep Wall from getting to your ma

chine?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I promise to help you do that if you help me save Mama Flore and Champ and as many slaves as we can." "As I said," John replied, "I will follow your lead."

When we got back upon the Corinthian Plantation it was just before dawn. Everything was calm.

"Are they still under your spell?" I asked John. "No. Everyone is sleeping normally. But look." John put his hand on my shoulder and pointed to the woods on the other side of Tobias's mansion. Somehow his touch allowed me to see what he could with his superior alien perceptions. Suddenly I could see behind the woods, making out a group of a dozen or so heavily armed men. The one-eyed ghoul, Mr. Stewart, was in their lead.

All of the men were white, armed with rifles, and had pistols-

stealthily toward the big house and the workmen's dormitory.

"Quick," John said. "Hurry down and release as many slaves as you can while I warn Tobias and his men."

Before I could run he added, "I will be weak from the effort of waking the slave master's clan, Forty-seven. You will have to save your friends alone."

Maybe if I had time to think about his last words I would have changed my mind. But I was mostly thinking about saving my friends.

"Where I find you aftah?" I asked John.

"Under the hanging tree," he said ominously.

I nodded and then I was gone.

I ran as fast as I could toward the Tomb, having made up my mind that Champ Noland was the first man that I had to free.

Again I was amazed at how fast I could run. I moved as nimbly as an African cheetah and so was in front of the small prison in no time at all. But when I got there I saw that it was padlocked.

I knew where the key to the Tomb was kept because of all the years I'd spent near Mama Flore. It was on a hook in the kitchen. With my newfound speed I ran to the back kitchen door. I found a ring of keys hanging from the hook. Then I hurried toward the Tomb and tried three keys before one of them opened the padlock.

"Champ!" I cried.

He was curled up on the floor with his head down between his knees. When he heard my voice he roused himself and raised his eyes to see who had opened his door.

At once I went to work finding the right key for his

manacles.

His face was all bruised and the flesh above both his eyes was swollen from beatings. There was dried blood about his mouth and there was something wrong with his jaw. "What you doin' here, Forty-seven?" "Men wit' guns comin'," I said, still fumbling for the right key. "We gotta get the other slaves and run 'fore they kill us all."