“Why you impudent–!” began the younger man.
This outburst was interrupted by a deep chuckle. “Peace, Demetrieff,” said the older, bald person. He knelt, surprisingly agile for one who was not slender, and reached towards Bob. “Can you take my hand?” he asked Bob. “We do not have a ladder on the premises.”
Bob stood up and stretched, and in a second the bald man had hauled him up through the jagged hole and set him upon his feet. “Now how does it go?” he asked. “No bones broken, eh? Good. Nasty things, broken bones. I remember the time my horse fell on me. It was two months before I could ride again. It is painful when one must lie still and do nothing.” The bald one paused, then added in a cold voice, “Naturally, I shot the horse.”
Bob swallowed, and Jupiter felt goose bumps come up on his arms.
“Klas Kaluk is not noted for his patience with bunglers,” said the younger man.
Jupiter stood up slowly, brushing dust from his clothes.
“Klas Kaluk?” he echoed.
“You would say General Kaluk,” the younger man informed him. Jupiter was suddenly aware that the younger man held a gun as well as a torch.
“General Kaluk.” Jupiter nodded to the bald one, then turned back to the man with the gun. “And you are Mr Demetrieff,” he said.
“How did you know that?” demanded Demetrieff.
“General Kaluk called you by name,” said Jupiter.
The general chuckled again. “You have a quick ear, my plump friend,” he told Jupiter. “Boys with quick ears interest me. They hear many things. Shall we go into the house and discuss what you may have heard tonight?”
“Hey, Jupe,” said Bob quickly. “Hey, we don’t really want to. I mean, I’m okay, and we can go now and . . .”
The man named Demetrieff made a quick motion with his gun and Bob fell silent.
“It would be most inadvisable for us to leave this gaping hole in your yard,” said Jupiter. “Some other member of the Chaparral Walking Club might cut across this way and fall in. Would you be liable, Mr Demetrieff, or would it be General Kaluk?”
Again the bald general laughed. “You have a nimble set of wits, my friend,” he told Jupiter. “I believe, however, that the owners of this house would be liable. However, as I said, broken bones are unpleasant things. Demetrieff, there are some planks behind the stable.”
“I think it’s a garage,” ventured Bob.
“No matter. Get them and put them over the hole.” The older man looked down through the gap at broken shelves and earth floor. “It seems that we have an extension to the foundation of this building which projects out under the garden. A wine cellar, I should think.”
Demetrieff hauled a pair of damp and dirty planks from behind the garage and dropped them hastily into place across the hole.
“That should take care of the matter, at least for the moment,” said General Kaluk. “Now we shall go into the house and you will tell me about this Chaparral Walking Club of yours. You will also tell me your names, and why you chose to walk across this piece of property.”
“We would be delighted,” said Jupiter.
The man named Demetrieff gestured towards the kitchen door, and General Kaluk led the way. Jupe and Bob trailed after the general. They went through a dusty and disused kitchen to the library, where the general sat easily in the folding chair next to the card table and ordered Jupiter and Bob to sit on one of the folding beds in the room.
“We cannot offer you lavish hospitality,” said the general. His bald head gleamed in the light from the fireplace. “A glass of hot tea, perhaps?”
Jupiter shook his head. “Thank you, sir. I don’t drink tea.”
“Me, neither,” said Bob.
“Oh, yes,” said the general. “I forget. There is some custom about American children, is there not? No tea or coffee–or wine. You drink milk, do you?”
Jupiter admitted it.
“Well, we have no milk,” said the general. Demetrieff stood to one side, a little behind the general.
“Demetrieff, have you heard of this Chaparral Walking Club?” asked the general.
“Never,” said Demetrieff.
“It’s a local thing,” said Jupiter quickly. “Walking in the chaparral is more pleasant by day, but sometimes hikers try the paths on fine nights like this. You can hear the animals stirring in the underbrush as you pass. Sometimes, if you stand still for a long time, you can see the animals. I saw a deer once, and several times a skunk has crossed the road in front of me.”
“Fascinating,” said the man named Demetrieff. “And I suppose you also watch birds.”
“Not at night,” declared Jupiter truthfully. “You do hear an owl occasionally, but you never see one. In the daytime, the chaparral is alive with birds, but–”
The general held up one hand. “A moment,” he said. “Chaparral. This is a new word. Will you explain to me, please, what it is?”
“It’s a community of growing things,” said Jupiter. “The plants you see on this hillside are all part of the chaparral community–they are dwarfed trees and shrubs–the scrub oak and juniper and the sage, and at higher elevations the manzanita. They are extremely hardy plants which can survive on very little rainfall. California is one of the few areas where chaparral exists, so there is great interest in the plants.”
Bob sat silently and marvelled at Jupiter’s almost total recall of an article on chaparral that had appeared in a recent issue of Nature magazine. Total recall, Bob knew, was not uncommon among actors who had to remember lines, and Jupiter had once been a child actor.
On went Jupiter Jones, and on and on, describing the smell of chaparral in the spring, after the rains. He was telling how it held the hillsides firm when General Kaluk suddenly lifted one hand.
“Enough,” said the general. “I share your admiration for chaparral. Courageous plants, if plants can be said to have courage. Now, if you please, we will get to the point. Your names?”
“Jupiter Jones,” said Jupe.
“Bob Andrews,” said Bob.
“Very well. And now you will tell me what you were doing in my garden.”
“It’s a shortcut,” said Jupe truthfully. “We hiked up the trail from Rocky Beach and cut across. We can get down to the main road on your lane.”
“The lane is private property.”
“Yes, sir. We know. But Hilltop House has been empty for many years, and people have become accustomed to using the lane when they hike.”
“They will have to become unaccustomed,” declared the general. “I think, Jupiter Jones, that I have met you before.”
“We didn’t actually meet,” said Jupe. “Mr Demetrieff talked to me yesterday when you took the wrong turn off the road.”
“Ah, yes. And with you was an elderly man with a beard. Who is he?”
“We call him The Potter,” said Jupiter. “I believe that is his real name–Alexander Potter.”
“He is a friend of yours?” asked the general.
“I know him,” admitted Jupiter. “Everyone in Rocky Beach knows The Potter.”
The general nodded. “I believe I have heard of him.” He turned towards Demetrieff, and firelight gleamed on his tanned skin. Jupiter saw a fine tracery of wrinkles on his cheeks. Kaluk was not ageless; he was old.
“Demetrieff,” said the general, “did you not tell me there was a famed craftsman here who made pots?”
“And other things,” put in Bob.
“I would enjoy very much meeting him,” said the general. It was not exactly a question, and yet the general paused as if he were waiting for a reply.
Neither Jupiter nor Bob said anything.
“It is his shop at the bottom of my hill,” said the general at last.
“It is his shop,” said Jupiter.
“And he has guests,” the general went on. “A young woman and a boy. Unless I make a mistake, you helped them today when they arrived at the shop.”
“That’s right,” said Jupiter.
“A neighbourly thing to do, no doubt,” said the general. “You know those people?”
“No, sir,” said Jupiter. “They’re friends of Mr Potter from someplace in the Midwest.”
“Friends,” said the general. “How pleasant to have friends. One would think this man who makes pots–and other things–would be present to greet his friends.”
“He’s . . . uh . . . rather eccentric.”
“One gathers this. Yes, I would like very much to meet him. In fact, I must insist upon it.”
The general suddenly sat straight, gripping the arms of his chair. “Where is he?” he demanded.
“Huh?” said Bob.
“You heard me. Where is the man you call The Potter?”
“We don’t know,” Jupiter said.
“That is impossible!” said the general. A flush of colour rose to his leathery cheeks. “He was with you yesterday. Today you helped his friends when they arrived at his house. You know where he is!”