His first four were sadly disappointing. But the fifth was a beauty. There was a sharp crack, followed a moment later by a vulgar obscenity from the biology teacher.
“Shit!” he howled. “Jesus Christ, I’ve been shot!”
He dropped to the ground, pulling up his trouser legs. Blood oozed from a dimesize wound in his calf.
“Fulmar did it!” one of the boys announced righteously. “He’s got the gun!”
A nearby teacher instinctively scooped up Fulmar by the collar of his jacket, considered for a moment what to do about Canidy, then grabbed him by the collar and marched the both of them back to the stricken biology instructor. Just then a deep, low, roaring boom reverberated from the street. Fulmar’s work in the fall leaves had reached the gas tank of a Studebaker President four-door sedan.
The fire department, three police cars, and an ambulance rushed to the scene. In addition to the Studebaker, leaf piles for three blocks were on fire. The police knew a bullet wound when they saw one, and since the kid obviously hadn’t done it with his toy pistol, that meant there was some kind of nut out there with a.22 shooting at people. Hands on their revolvers, they fanned out looking for him.
The Reverend Dr. Canidy’s high reputation and considerable influence within Cedar Rapids did not keep Eric and Dick out of the Cedar Rapids Children’s Home, at least not for two days. The picture in the paper showed the two boys being collared by the police.
This picture, more than anything else, brought in Monica Carlisle’s young lawyer, Stanley Fine. Fine bought a new Studebaker President in exchange for an agreement not to press charges. In court, he argued for the Reverend Dr. Canidy’s exemplary reputation for dealing with boys, and the presiding judge of the juvenile court turned the malefactors over to the Reverend for rehabilitation. The real rehabilitation was administered by the physical-education instructor, who used a wide leather belt, which stung like hell and left red welts, but which did no real damage. Fine returned to Hollywood, leaving behind him two shiny silver dollars that were immediately traded in at Woolworth’s for two more tin guns.
The question of expelling Eric came up, but it was dismissed. The two kids were in their last year at St. Paul’s Lower School. In the fall, Canidy would be sent to St. Mark’s School in Southboro, Mass., and Dr. Canidy recommended to Monica Carlisle that a military school might be perfect for her son’s high-school education. The two friends believed they would never see each other again after they graduated from St. Paul’s.
But when Canidy arrived in Southboro, Fulmar was waiting for him. And grinning.
“It took two full weeks of tantrums,” he announced, doing a little joyful jig. His just-a-little-too-long blond hair kept flopping over his eyes, but he was too happy to notice. “But they finally caved in. What is this place, anyway? You know how hard it was to get me in here?”
They had not quite two years together at St. Mark’s; then Fulmar was sent to stay with his father in Europe, where he was to continue his education.
They exchanged the usual letters for a while, but eventually stopped. Still, in Canidy’s mind, Eric Fulmar was one hell of a guy.
Canidy focused his attention back on his father in time to catch the tail end of his discourse on the Bible.
“It is a lovely book, Dad. When you write to Eric again, make sure you tell him I said hello.”
“I’ve kept him abreast of your activities,” his father said. “He’s asked about you.”
“Well, tell him I said hello,” Canidy repeated. He was not actually surprised that Fulmar had succeeded in duckin the German draft. If nothing else, Fulmar was resourceful. Even as a little boy, he had had to learn to take care of himself, for with the exceptions of the Reverend Dr. Canidy and the lawyer, Stanley Fine, who had gotten them out of the arson episode, no adult had ever really given a damn about him.
In the morning, the Reverend Dr. Canidy drove them to the airfield in Dick’s car.