Dunc Breaks the Record by Gary Paulsen

Author:Gary Paulsen [Paulsen, Gary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-80372-6
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

.8

After giving the fish to Amos, Milt shook himself dry and moved to stand near the raft. He was dressed in a ragged pair of shorts and made no effort to avoid the dropping bat guano.

Amos took the fish out of his mouth. “It doesn’t taste quite as good as it looks. Is there some way we can cook it?”

Dunc shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him cook anything.”

“Does he talk at all or understand what we’re saying?” Amos turned to Milt and spoke slowly. “Do - you - have - a - stove - and - a - frying - pan?”

Milt crouched, watching him, a quiet smile on his face.

“Do-you-know-what-I’m-saying?”

There was no indication that Milt understood, and no indication that he didn’t understand either. Nothing.

“I haven’t heard him talk,” Dunc said. “But I think he knows what’s going on.”

“What I think is this guy is about three sandwiches short of a picnic,” Amos said, shrugging, slapping the trout against his leg. “I mean, there’s nobody home up there in the old bean.”

“Maybe so.”

“What’s to keep us from just saying so long and walking out of here?”

“Him. I tried it.”

“Well, I haven’t. And I’m going to.” He threw the fish on the ground, waved at Milt, and stepped toward the edge of the water that led out.

The effect was immediate and so fast, it was hard to see. Amos was halfway into the second step when Milt seemed to vanish from where he had been sitting and reappear in front of Amos. He did something with his hands and arms, and Amos was turned back, standing exactly as he had been standing, looking at Dunc and holding the fish.

“See?” Dunc said.

“How did he do that?”

“I don’t know. It’s something about how he uses his hands and arms and things. He seems to flow from one place to another, and you don’t get to see it.” Dunc sighed and moved to stand next to Amos. “I tried three or four times to leave, and it was always the same. I just wound up back where I started from.”

“Look”—Amos pointed at Milt with the fish—“you don’t understand. This is wrong. You’re holding us against our will, and if you don’t let us go, we’ll turn you in to the proper authorities. Now we’re going to go, and you’re not going to do anything to stop us. Come on, Dunc.”

Amos turned, took a step, and the same thing happened. He was back where he started from—unhurt, almost untouched. Just moved. And Milt crouched next to the raft, smiling quietly.

“If he does that again, I’m going to get mad,” Amos said.

Milt turned suddenly, moved to the side wall of the cave where there were some boxes stacked, and rummaged for a moment. He returned with a checkerboard and a box of checkers.

“Uh-oh,” Dunc said. “He wants to play checkers.”

“What?” Amos turned.

“He loves checkers. But he plays for things. Maybe that’s how he owns all the stuff in here. Maybe he won it.

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