And those creatures he had glimpsed in the night? What were they? Perhaps some naked Indians. Perhaps he had stumbled upon some Penitentes. He knew the name but little more about them except that they observed some mysterious rites of their own.
Those flares now? Were the creatures responding to them? Had they been some sort of signal? Uneasily, he began getting his gear together. A small survival kit which he always carried, a hunting knife, an extra box of .357 cartridges. On second thought, he added another box. What was he going to do, fight a war? He filled a canteen, gathered some odds and ends of emergency food, still unsure of what he planned to do.
Although Erik had suggested meeting him on the Canyon road, the mesa where Erik was building was north of the river and there was no way of getting from one to the other without crossing the bridge at Mexican Hat. He would come in from the north and visit Erik’s place first.
And after that? He shied from the question. By that time he would surely have found Erik or some communication from him.
He took up the daybook again.
Later. Desperately, I have tried to resume work on my plans, trying to keep my thoughts away from the odd circumstances, but my thoughts refuse to concern themselves with the mundane problems of construction.
Suddenly Chief began barking furiously, and seizing a club, I dashed outside. My appearance seemed to lend him courage, and leaping into the kiva he charged toward the blind window, only it had changed. The back of the niche was now a thick oily-looking cloud, which did not enter the kiva, but remained in the window frame.
Chief charged the window, barking furiously. I yelled at him to come back, and when he did obey I dropped into the kiva to collar him. Assuming I was with him he leaped through the window, and his barking faded into the distance.
Chief was gone! But gone where? The window was on the cliff’s edge and leaping through he must have fallen several hundred feet to the rocks below.
Yet he had not fallen. I had distinctly heard him barking away into the distance, obviously chasing something, or somebody.
For a long moment I stood riveted to the spot. “Frozen” might have been a better term, for I was cold, utterly cold. Turning, I climbed clumsily from the kiva, skinning my knee in the process.
Stumbling, I went back into my camp in the ruin and sat down on my cot. I wiped my hand over my face. Despite the coolness of the morning I was wet with sweat.
Sanity. I must cling to sanity. Reason, logic, common sense.
Something had happened I could not explain. Naturally, I had heard of mysterious disappearances. There had been the case of the man crossing an open field in full view of several people and vanishing before their eyes. There was also the story of a man who had gone to a spring for water. His tracks were plainly visible in the fresh-fallen snow but they ended abruptly, short of the spring. The bucket was there, lying on its side. The man was gone. Faintly, his voice was heard, calling for help. Gradually the voice weakened and after a while was heard no more.
It was a long time before I could shake off the fear that gnawed at my guts. I realized now that I had never been truly afraid before. Had it not been for Chief, I would have abandoned the place at once, never to return or even to repeat the story. Yet Chief was a good and faithful beast and he would not have ventured into the kiva or through the window had he not believed I was with him.
All right, I would begin there. Something had happened which I did not understand, yet we deal with forces every day which most of us do not fully comprehend. How many of us who turn the dial of a radio or television can explain the principles of either?
My dog had vanished. If he had gone through that window he had gone into something or somewhere. I must recover my dog. If it meant going into that somewhere, then it must be done.
He had leaped through and I had heard him barking. Hence, the process of passing through had not changed him. He could still bark and he retained the incentive to bark, so whatever he passed through had not altered him physically, nor had his mental attitude been changed.
My pencil had been taken but a gift left in exchange. Hence, whatever was on the other side of the window could reason, had ethical standards of a sort, and might be reached by some means of communication. I then took the first sensible, logical step. I went back to the kiva and called my dog.
Nothing happened. Could sound reach beyond the barrier? Suppose I went through? Could I get back?
Returning to my drawing board I sat down, and using a notepad, I tried to reason it through. Common sense warned me to sit tight. If Chief could return, he would. It might be a day or it might be two. The “window” was obviously an opening to something, perhaps another dimension, perhaps a world coexistent with our own.
Did I believe that? I had not sufficient information to make a decision, but what other explanation was there? I knew the idea had been around for thousands of years, and certain speculations in contemporary physics seemed to allow for the possibility, at least. And that opening obviously led to somewhere.
Moreover, whoever had drawn that red line on my blueprint had obviously wanted such an opening.
Why? And why had it been so carefully closed up in the beginning? Had there been something over there they feared? Or an attempt to keep our two worlds separate?
The Hopi Indians, I understood, believe this to be the Fourth World. The Third World, which they left to come into this through a “hole in the ground,” had been evil.
What evil? Was it a thing? A being? Some tangible force? Or was it a state or condition? I knew too little of their beliefs to venture an opinion, but knew they had some affinity with what the Navajo called the Anasazi, the Ancient Ones.
Did some monstrous thing lurk beyond that window? Had the kiva been filled in to keep it out?
V
Who drew the red line on my plans? Obviously, somebody on this side, somebody who wanted a way back. The taking of my pencil seemed more the act of a child, or someone desperately in need of a way to communicate.
Was there not another opening? After all, how did the person who drew the red line get over here?
But all this was mad! Mad! What I needed was somebody like Mike Raglan who was familiar with the literature on this sort of thing.
Monday. Much has happened. I awakened the other morning to find my drafting pencil returned with the point worn down to where it could no longer be used.
For a moment or two I was puzzled. Then it hit me: Suppose whoever took the pencil did not know how to sharpen one? On a hunch I sharpened the pencil, then stood it erect in the dime-store sharpener and left it, along with a couple of extra pencils.
In the morning they were gone, and so was an old sweater, a cardigan. It had been hung over a camp chair nearby. For a moment I was irritated. Old as it was, I liked that cardigan. It was cashmere and warm.
This morning, to my surprise, I found my old sweater returned, and beside it, folded neatly, was another sweater. This was entirely new, a dark brown across the shoulders bleeding to a lighter, then still another lighter shade.
To my surprise the sweater fitted to perfection. Where the brand name had been in the collar of my sweater there was a sunflower worked in gold thread!
Wednesday. Cleaned last of the earth from the kiva. Now I must study the paintings. I have deliberately avoided them until they could be examined in their entirety.
Thursday. Awakened to find a sunflower on my desk! If I am haunted it is by gentle creatures, indeed!
This afternoon, suddenly, there was Chief! He stood looking at me and only when I called his name did he approach me, but once he was close and got my smell in his nostrils he was excited as a puppy. Tucked behind his collar was a sunflower!
To say that I was startled would understate the case, for Chief was a one-man dog to such a degree that nobody could touch him but me. If I was present to admonish him he would sometimes permit liberties from a vet, but only sometimes. Ycf somebody had obviously placed that sunflower where it was.