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t kept hitting him in different ways； sometimes with sorrow； sometimes with guilt； sometimes with anger。 On this day； two days before the great bear came charging out of the green corridors of the woods； it had hit him in the most surprising way of all。 He had felt relief； and a soaring joy。
He was free。
Eddie had borrowed Roland's knife。 He used it to cut carefully around the jutting boss of wood； then brought it back and sat beneath a tree with it； turning it this way and that。 He was not looking at it； he was looking into it。
Susannah had finished with her rabbit。 The meat went into the pot over the fire； the skin she stretched between two sticks； tying it with hanks of rawhide from Roland's purse。 Later on； after the evening meal； Eddie would begin scraping it clean。 She used her hands and arms； slipping effortlessly over to where Eddie was sitting with his back propped against the tall old pine。 At the campfire； Roland was crumbling some arcane…and no doubt delicious…woods…herb into the pot。 〃What's doing； Eddie？〃
Eddie had found himself restraining an absurd urge to hide the boss of wood behind his back。 〃Nothing；〃 he said。 〃Thought I might； you know； curve something。〃 He paused； then added： 〃I'm not very good； though。〃 He sounded as if he might be trying to reassure her of this fact。
She had looked at him； puzzled。 For a moment she seemed on the verge of saying something； then simply shrugged and left him alone。 She had no idea why Eddie seemed ashamed to be passing a little time in whittling…her father had done it all the time…but if it was something that needed to be talked about； she supposed Eddie would get to it in his own time。
He knew the guilty feelings were stupid and pointless； but he also knew he felt more fortable doing this work when Roland and Susan…nah were out of camp。 Old habits； it seemed； sometimes died hard。 Beating heroin was child's play pared to beating your childhood。
When they were away； hunting or shooting or keeping Roland's peculiar form of school； Eddie found himself able to turn to his piece of wood with surprising skill and increasing pleasure。 The shape was in there； all right； he had been right about that。 It was a simple one； and Roland's knife was setting it free with an eerie ease。 Eddie thought he was going to get almost all of it； and that meant the slingshot might actually turn out to be a practical weapon。 Not much pared to Roland's big revolvers； maybe； but something he had made himself； just the same。 His。 And this idea pleased him very much。
When the first crows rose in the air； cawing affrightedly； he did not hear。 He was already thinking…hoping…that he might see a tree with a bow trapped in it before too long。
5
HE HEARD THE BEAR approaching before Roland and Susannah did； but not much before…he was lost in that high daze of concentration which acpanies the creative impulse at its sweetest and most powerful。 He had suppressed these impulses for most of his life； and now this one held him wholly in its grip。 Eddie was a willing prisoner。
He was pulled from his daze not by the sound of falling trees but by the rapid thunder of a 。45 from the south。 He looked up； smiling； and brushed hair from his forehead with a sawdusty hand。 In that moment； sitting with his back against a tall pine in the clearing which had bee home； his face crisscrossed with opposing beams of green…gold forest light； he looked handsome indeed…a young man with unruly dark hair which constantly tried to spill across his high forehead； a young man with a strong； mobile mouth and hazel eyes。
For a moment his eyes shifted to Roland's other gun； hanging by its belt from a nearby branch； and he found himself wondering how long it had been since Roland had gone anywhere without at least one of his fabulous weapons hanging by his side。 That question led to two others。
How old was he； this man who had plucked Eddie and Susannah from their world and their whens？ And； more important； what was wrong with him？
Susannah had promised to broach that subject 。。。 if she shot well and didn't get Roland's back hair up； that was。 Eddie didn't think Roland would tell her…not at first…but it was time to let old long tall and ugly know that they knew something was wrong。
〃There'll be water if God wills it；〃 Eddie said。 He turned back to his carving with a little smile playing on his lips。 They had both begun to pick up Roland's little sayings 。 。 。 and he theirs。 It was almost as if they were halves of die same…
Then a tree fell close by in the forest； and Eddie was on his feet in a second； the half…carved slingshot in one hand； Roland's knife in the other。 He stared across the clearing in the direction of die sound； heart thumping； all his senses finally alert。 Something was ing。 Now he could hear it； trampling its heedless way through the underbrush； and he marvelled bitterly that this realization had e so late。 Far back in his mind； a small voice told him this was what he got。 This was what he got for doing something better than Henry； for making Henry nervous。
Another tree fell with a ratcheting； coughing crash。 Looking down a ragged aisle between the tall firs； Eddie saw a cloud of sawdust rise in the still air。 The creature responsible for that cloud suddenly bellowed…a raging； gut…freezing sound。
It was one huge motherfucker； whatever it was。
He dropped the chunk of wood； then flipped Roland's knife at a tree fifteen feet to his left。 It somersaulted twice in the air and then stuck halfway to the hilt in the wood； quivering。 He grabbed Roland's 。45 from the place where it hung and cocked it。
Stand or run？
But he discovered he no longer had the luxury of that question。 The thing was fast as well as huge； and it was now too late to run。 A gigantic shape began to disclose itself in that aisle of trees north of the clearing； a shape which towered above all but the tallest trees。 It was lumbering directly toward him； and as its eyes fixed upon Eddie Dean； it gave voice to another of those cries。
〃Oh man； I'm fucked；〃 Eddie whispered as another tree bent； cracked like a mortar； then crashed to the forest floor in a cloud of dust and dead needles。 Now it was lumbering straight toward the clearing where he stood； a bear die size of King Kong。 Its footfalls made the ground shake。
What will you do； Eddie？ Roland suddenly asked。 Think！ It's the only advantage you have over yon beast。 What will you do？
He didn't think he could kill it。 Maybe with a bazooka； hut probably not with the gunslinger's 。45。 He could run； but had an idea that the oning beast might be pretty fast when it wanted to be。 He guessed the chances of ending up as jam between the great bear s toes might be as high as fifty…fifty。
So which one was it going to be？ Stand here and start shooting or run like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching？
It occurred to him that there was a third choice。 He could climb。
He turned toward the tree against which he had been leaning。 It was a huge； hoary pine； easily the tallest tree in this part of the woods。 The first branch spread out over the forest floor in a feathery green fan about eight f