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earing 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 made this worst of all for them was they couldn't feel it like they felt a White man's spells or charms or doodles。 A White man put a hex； they felt it like a bump in their land…sense； a beseeching was a nasty stink； a warding was a buzz when they came close。 But this that Alvin did； it didn't interrupt the land at all； their sense of how things ought to be didn't show them nothing different going on。 It was like all the natural laws had changed on them； and suddenly steel was soft and flesh was hard； rock was brittle and leather weak as grass。 They didn't look to Al or Measure as the cause of what was going on。 It was some natural force doing it； as best they could figure。
All that Alvin saw was their fear and anger and confusion； which pleased him well enough。 He wasn't cocky； though。 He knew there was some things he didn't know how to handle。 Water was the main one； if they took it in their heads to drown the boys； Al wouldn't know how to stop them； or save himself or Measure。 He was only ten； and being bound by rules he didn't understand； he hadn't figured out what…all his knack was good for； or how it worked。 Maybe there was things within his power that could be right spetackler； if he only knowed how； but the point was he didn't know； and so he only did the things that were within his reach。
This much was on his side they didn't think of drowning。 But they thought of fire。 Most likely they were planning that from the start folks told tales of finding torture victim in the Red wars back in New England； their blackened feet in the cooling ashes of a fire； where they had to watch their own toes char until the pain and bleeding and madness of it killed them。 Alvin saw them stoking up the fire； putting hot…burning branches on it to make it flare。 He didn't know how to take the heat out of a fire； he'd never tried。 So he thought as fast as he could； and while they were picking Measure up by his armpits and dragging him to the fire； Al got inside the firewood and broke it up； made it crumble into dust；