； but then he saw him checking how he made the letters； paring them to a paper he had folded up in the waistband of his loincloth。 A paper。 Then； while two of them held each horse by the bridle； another Red jabbed the horse's flanks with a knife； little cuts； not all that deep； but enough to make them crazy with pain； kicking out； bucking； rearing up。 The horses knocked down the Reds holding them and took off； ran away； heading as the Reds knowed they would on up the road toward home。
A message； that's what it was。 These Reds wanted to be followed。 They wanted a whole bunch of White folks to get their muskets and horses and follow。 Like Daniel Boone in the story。 Follow the sound of screaming。 Go crazy from the sound of their children dying。
Well Alvin decided then and there that； live or die； he and Measure wouldn't let Reds make his parents hear what Daniel Boone heard。 There wasn't a chance in the world of them getting away。 Even if Al made the rope e apart which he could do easy enough there wasn't no way two White boys could outrun Reds in the forest。 No； these Reds had them as long as they wanted。 But Al knew ways to keep them from doing things to them。 And it would be all right to do it； too； to use his knack； because it wouldn't just be for himself。 It would be for his brother； and for his family； and in a funny way he knew it would be for the Reds； too； because if there was something real； if some White boys really did get tortured to death； then there'd be a war； there'd be a real knock…down…drag…out fight between Reds and Whites； and a lot of people on both sides would die。 As long as he didn't kill anybody； then； it would be all right for Al to use his knack。
With the horses gone； the Reds tied thongs around Al's and Measure's necks。 Then they pulled on the thongs to drag them along。 Measure was a big man； taller than any of the Reds； so as they led him they made him bend over。 It was hard for him to run； and the thong was real tight on him。 Al was getting pulled along behind him； so he could see how Measure was being treated； could hear him choking a little。 It was a simple thing for Al； though； to get inside that thong and stretch it out； stretch it and stretch it； so it was loose around Measure's neck； and long enough that Measure could run pretty much upright。 It happened slow enough that the Reds didn't really notice it。 But Al knew that they'd notice what he was doing soon enough。
Everybody knew that Reds didn't leave footprints。 And when Reds took White captives； they usually carried them； slung by their arms and legs like dressed…out deer； so the clumsy White folks。 wouldn't leave no tracks。 These Reds meant to be followed； then； cause they were letting Al and Measure leave tracks and traces every step they took。
But they didn't mean it to be too easy to find them。 After they'd gone forever； it felt like a couple of hours at least they came to a brook and walked on upstream a ways； and then ran on； another half mile or maybe a mile before they finally stopped in a clearing and built a fire。
No farms close by； but that didn't mean much。 By now the horses were home with the bloody clothing and the wounds in the horses' flanks and those names carved into the saddles。 By now every White man in the whole area was bringing his family in to Vigor Church； where a few men could protect them while the rest went out searching for the missing boys。 By now Ma was pale with terror； Pa raging for the other men to hurry； hurry； not a minute to waste； got to find the boys； if you don't e now I'll go on alone！ And the others saying； Calm down； calm down； can't do no good by yourself； we'll catch them； you bet。 Nobody admitting what they all knew that Al and Measure were as good as dead。
But Al didn't plan to be dead。 No sir。 He planned to be absolutely alive； him and Measure both。
The Reds built up the fire good and hot； and it sure wasn't no cook fire。 Since the sun was shining bright and hard already； it made Al and Measure sweat something awful； even in their short summer underwear。 They sweated even more when the Reds cut even that much off them； popping off the buttons down the front and slicing it right down the back； so they were naked right down to the ground they sat on。
It was about then that one of the Reds noticed Al's forehead。 He took a big hank of underwear cloth and wiped at Al's face； rubbing pretty hard to get the dried blood off。 Then he started jabbering at the others。 They all gathered around to see。 Then they checked Measure's forehead； too。 Well； Al knew what they were looking for。 And he knew they wouldn't find it。 Cause he had healed up his own forehead without a scar； not a mark on his own face。 And of course no mark on Measure； either； since he wasn't cut。 That'd make them think a little。
But it wasn't healing that Al was depending on to save them。 It was too hard； too slow they could sure cut faster than Al could heal； and that was the truth。 It was a lot faster for him to use that knack he had on things like stone and metal； which was all the same straight through； living flesh； on the other hand； was plicated with all kinds of little stuff that he had to get right in his head before he could change it and make it whole。
So when one of the Reds sat down in front of Measure； brandishing a knife； Al didn't wait for him to start cutting。 He got that knife into his head； the steel of the blade White man's knife； just like they were carrying White man's muskets。 He found the edge of it； the point； and flattened it out； smoothed it； rounded it。
The Red laid that knife up against Measure's bare chest and tried to cut。 Measure braced himself for the pain to start。 But that knife made no more mark on Measure than if it was a spoon。
Al almost laughed to see that Red pull his knife away and look at it； try to see what was wrong。 He ran the edge against his own finger； to test it； Al thought of making the blade razor sharp right then； but no； no； the rule was to use his knack to make things right； not to cause injury。 The others gathered round to look at the knife。 Some of them mocked the knife's owner； probably thinking he hadn't kept the edge sharp。 But Al spent that time finding all the other steel edges that those Red men had and making them round and smooth。 They couldn't've cut a pea pod in half with them knives when Al was through。
Sure enough； all the others pulled out their knives to try them； running the edges against Al or Measure first； and finally yelling and shouting and accusing each other； quarreling over whose fault it was； probably。
But they had a job to do； didn't they？ They were supposed to torture these White boys and make them scream； or at least hack them up bad enough that when their folks found the bodies they'd thirst for revenge。
So one of the Reds took his old…fashioned stone…edged tommy…hawk and brandished it in front of Al's face； waving it around so he'd get good and scared。 Al used the time to soften up the stone； weaken the wood； loosen the thongs that held it all together。 By the time the Red got to lifting it up ready to do some real business； like smashing Al in the face with it； it crumbled apart in his hand。 The wood was rotted clear through； the stone fell to the ground as gravel； and even the thong was split and frayed through。 That Red man shouted and jumped back like as if he had a rattler a…biting at him。
Another one had a steel…blade hatchet； and he didn't waste no time waving it around； he just laid out Measure's hand on a rock and whacked it down； meaning to cut Measure's fingers off。 This was easy stuff to Al； though。 Hadn't he cut whole millstones； when the need was？ So the hatchet struck and rang on the stone； and Measure gasped at the sight of it； sure it'd take his fingers clean off； but when the Red picked up the hatchet； there was Measure's hand just like before； not marked a bit； while the hatchet had finger…shaped depressions in the blade； like it was made of cool butter or wet cake…soap。
Them Reds； they howled； they looked at each other with fear in their eyes； fear and anger at the strange things going on。 Alvin couldn't know it； being White； but the thing that m