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choice of food, because of the extreme difficulty in cracking them open, but they would certainly do for
now, and the tree was close enough to the bench so that he could watch it from there. This was the
remnant of a once-magnificent tree, with thickly spreading foliage to the sides, but a sadly marred trunk.
Lightning had wounded it, leaving an oozing cleft. As a gust of wind moved the leaves about, he saw
into that cleft. There was something wedged in it that reflected a glint as the sunlight briefly penetrated
to it.
Curious, as well as hungry, Kelvin got up and walked to the tree. None of the people in the vicinity paid
him any attention. The ground beneath it was a tangle of weeds and briers; no one had come here
recently. But there, at about twice the height of a man, was the wedged object. It seemed to be some
kind of heavy glove, with metallic reinforcements.
Well, where there was one glove there might be a pair, and gloves could always be useful. Kelvin
suppressed his fatigue and set about climbing the tree to reach it.
The bark was rough, so that he found fingerholds and toeholds. He hauled himself up, and in due course
reached the glove. He took hold of it and hauled it out of its cleft. It was more than a glove; it was a
massive gauntlet, fashioned of good quality dragon leather, with reinforced studs of silver metal across
the knuckles. That was what had reflected the gleam. This must have been one expensive piece of
equipment when new!
He felt around for the companion glove, but couldn't find it. He climbed higher and inspected this entire
part of the tree, but there was nothing. Just this single gauntlet for the left hand. How strange that it
should have been left here alone!
Still, half a pair was better than none. Might as well use it. He shook it out to free it of whatever bugs
might have taken up residence inside, and slipped it on his hand. The thing fit marvelously well; it was
as though it had been made to his measure. It seemed about time that something went his way!
He climbed down. His right hand felt the abrading roughness of the bark, but his left hand was quite
comfortable. The gloved fingers gripped with surprising accuracy and force, greatly facilitating his
descent. His hand felt as if it had infinite power.
He reached the base. Now he observed the beenuts scattered on the ground, dropped by the tree. Those
should be edible; maybe he could after all crack some open and get a meal of sorts.
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He picked one up and brought it to his mouth. His teeth clamped on the hard shell and bore down, but it
would not give. This nut was too tough for him; he would have to bash it open with a rock.
Naturally there were no rocks around. No big sticks, either. Well, he could bash it with the haft of his
sword. Of course that would probably either make it explode into far-flung fragments that would be lost
in the briers, or crush shell and nutmeat into one inedible mass. What he really needed was a nutcracker.
He held the nut between the thumb and forefinger of the gauntlet and squeezed, wishing it could be that
easy.
The nut cracked.
Kelvin did a double take. Oh he had probably happened on a flaw, catching it just right. He picked out
the meat and put it in his mouth. It was slightly bitter, but tasty enough. Had he picked it fresh from the
tree, he could have charmed it into a better taste, but the fallen nuts were beyond his power to improve.
However, he was not about to climb way up to the tips of the bearing branches to reach growing nuts; he
would probably fall and break his neck if he tried.
He picked up another and tried it similarly, between the gauntlet's thumb and forefinger. This one
cracked open as readily as the first. Good enough!
He tried the third with his right hand. He got nowhere. He tried it between his teeth, but it was
impervious. He tried it with the gauntlet, and it opened as if its shell were made of paper.
Now, this was interesting! He experimented, and verified that the glove had power that the rest of him
lacked. When he linked his right hand to the gauntleted left and squeezed, carefully, his right soon was
hurting, while his left never felt the pressure. Apparently the glove amplified the power of any motion
his fingers made enormously.
He reached out to grip the tough bark of the tree. He squeezed and the bark crumbled. He put several
nuts in the glove and squeezed hard and they compressed so quickly and thoroughly that juice spurted.
What remained when he opened his hand was just dry mash.
Kelvin gathered as many beenuts as he could hold and returned to the bench. There he methodically
cracked them open and ate them, feeling steadily better as his stomach got back into business. What a
discovery this gauntlet was! How strange that it had remained lodged in that cleft, and nobody else had
noticed it or, if they had, bothered to fetch it down. All the people here, constantly passing through, yet
none of them really looking at the tree! Who would have thought that the accidental acquisition of a
single glove could have brought him a decent meal!
"Young man "
Kelvin jumped, turning. The man facing him had the reddest countenance he had ever seen. His.
shoulders were as wide as the rest of him, and the rest of him was as broad as the back of a war-horse.
His ears shone pinkly at the lobes and had little tufts of dark hair at their tips.
"Morvin Crumb?" Kelvin asked after a moment, recovering from his surprise. He had gotten so involved
in cracking nuts that he had tuned out the world!
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"That's right, youngster. And you're "
"Kelvin Knight Hackleberry. Your son said "
"Yes, I know." Morvin brushed a pile of beenut shells from the bench a-nd sat down beside him. Then,
speaking in a conspiratorially low tone, he said, "We've had a small group of vigilantes here in Franklin.
Crumb's Raiders, we call ourselves. Now and then we can help someone, but it all depends on who they
are and how bad they deserve help. What's your loss?"
"My sister," Kelvin said, thinking of nothing else. "A highwayman named Cheeky Jack has her, and "
"A girl? How old is she?"
"Fourteen. But she "
The man shook his head sadly. "Then it is already too late to help her. Don't you know what outlaws 
and guardsmen, too, for that matter do to girls that age?"
"Yes, but she's masquerading as a boy. So with luck Cheeky Jack doesn't know."
Mor considered. "So you two aren't entirely naive about traveling, then?"
"Not entirely," Kelvin agreed. "But we still got ourselves into real trouble. If that outlaw finds out " [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]