“Gooddog.Gooddog.”

        “Heisreallysmart.”

        Dimitriwasveryhappy,butjustatthatmomentheheardthesuddenscreechingoftiresandthepeoplearoundhimexclaimedandshriekedinalarm.Dimitri’sheartlurchedinfear,“Whatcouldhavehappened?Ihopeit’snotMaureen!”hethought.Althoughdogsarecolorblind,Maureenhadundergonespecialtrainingandtheintelligentlittledogunderstoodthedifferencebetweentrafficsignals.Redmeantstopandgreenmeantgo.Charinahadalsorepeatedlytaughthimso.Butthistimehewasinsuchahurrytogivethewhitecanebacktohisnewfriend,thatheignoredtheredlight.Justwhenhegottothemiddleoftheroad,asedancamedrivingupswiftly.Luckilyitbrakedjustinthenickoftimebeforeithitthedog.Maureenwasscaredoutofhiswitsandsatdownlamelyinthemiddleoftheroad.Theangrydriverrolleddownhiswindowandwasabouttoblasttheculpritwhoalmostcausedaterribleaccidentwhenhiseyesrestedonacutelittlepuppysittinginthemiddleoftheroadwithawhitecaneofablindmaninhismouth,hisexpressionscaredbutalsoengaginglypitifulandrepentant.Thedriver’sangervanishedatthesightandheaskedkindly,“Areyoualright,boy?”MaureennoddedandthedrivermadeasigntellingMaureentogofirst,andthendroveoffslowlyafterseeingthatithadcrossedthestreetsafely.ThepeoplesurroundingDimitriclappedandwhistledandgaveMaureenahero’swelcome.HismistressCharinawasalsoback.Dimitristoopeddownandpickeduphiswhitecane.Thistimehewasgoingtoholdontoittightlyashewouldnotbeabletowalkanywherewithoutit.MaureensawhismistressandjumpedintoCharina’sarmsandbegannudgingandlickingherface.“Ok.OK.Goodboy.Goodboy.Hey,stoplickingnoworyouwillmessupmymakeup!”SheputthedogdowntothegroundandwalkedwithDimitritowardshercarandthethreeofthemdroveaway.

        Thehotsungraduallylostsomeofitsheatandbreathsofcoolaircouldbefelt.ThemanwhoaskedaboutCharina’saddresssataloneintheshadeofatree,murmuring,“Emmanuel.Emmanuel.That’snotabadnameshehasgivenme.”Hiseyeswereonadriedupdeadtreewithantsalloveritandthought,“Iwonderifthatlittletreeisitchywithallthoseantscrawlingonit.”Thethoughtofitchingignitedtheitchofhisathletefeet.Heimmediatelytookoffhisshoesandsocksandrubbedthemonthetree,firsttherightfoot,thentheleftfoot;firstthebottomofhisfeetthenthefront.Alookofsatisfactionappearedonhisface,andthesly,innocentsmilesoftenedhisfierceandruthlessexpression.Hefoldedhisfeetintoayoga-likeposition,muchlikethatofthemonksduringmeditation.Helikedthisposition,buthisheartrefusedtocalmdown.Hishandswereplayingwithadark,rustybronzetortoise.HeturneditoverandsawonitsstomacharowofcharacterswhichlookedasiftheywereancientChinesepictographs.Hedidnotunderstandanyofthosewordsbutjustlikedtheshapeofthetortoise.Itsheadandtaillookedaliveandinmotionwhileitsfourlegsseemedtobeswimminginthewater.Hehadjustacquireditaccidentallyearlierthatafternoon.

        Hewaswanderingaimlesslyaroundthestreetswhenhehappenedtostepintoastorepiledhighwithallkindsofproducts.Theywerenotcategorizedandexhibitedinanorderlyfashionlikeinotherstoressothatcustomerscouldseewhatwasonsaleataglance.Infact,everythingwaspiledlackadaisicallyontablesandstrewedaboutanyoldway.Thesalespersonwasaveryoldwoman,stoopedandwrinkled,withapointedhatonherhead.Whenshesawacustomerstepin,hereyesshonewithintelligenceandlookedEmmanuelupanddownsaying,

        “Sir,Icanseeyouareschizophrenic.Wouldyouliketotalktome?Ichargeonly$15forthat.ButifyouwanttoknowmoreindetailIcanusethetarocardstotellyoufortune.ForthatIcharge$50.Howaboutit,sir?”Asithappenedthatthiswasnotonlyanantiquestore,buyingandsellingoldthingsbutitwasalsoaplaceforfortune-telling.

        “Tohellwiththatmumbojumbo”repliedEmmanuelrudely,wavingtheoldwomanaside.“Idon’tbelieveinthatstuff.”Theoldwoman’ssharpeyesfollowedEmmanuelashewanderedaroundthestore.Theinteriorofthestorewasdimandthewaresexhibitedthereweremostlyoldradios,lamps,alarmclocks,telephoneanddust-coatedswallow-tailedcoats,nothingmuchofinterest,interestingonlytojunkcollectorsandpeoplewhocherishedoldthings.Emmanuelwasjustabouttoleavewhenhisfootkickedagainstsomethinghardontheground.Hepickeditupandsawitwasanoldrustybronzetortoise.

        “Putthatbackwhereyoufoundit.It’snotforsale”saidtheoldwoman.

        “Whatrot”saidEmmanuelcrudely.“Whatisitdoinginyourstoreifit’snotforsale?”

        “Itbelongstoawhite-beardeddwarfwholeftitwithmefiftyyearsago.Hesaidhewouldbebackforit,buthenevercameback.However,Iwillkeepmypromiseandkeepitforhim.Putitbackwhereitbelongs.”

        Emmanuelrefusedtolistentotheoldwoman’sexplanations.Peelingouttendollarsfromhiswallet,hethrewitonthetableandwalkedquicklyoutofthestore.“Hey!Hey!Hey!Comeback!Robber!Thief...”criedtheoldwoman.Butperhapsbecauseshewasold,feebleandnotabletowalkveryfast,shedidnotrushoutafterhim.ThusEmmanuelgotthisbronzetortoisebycheatingtheoldwomanoutofherantiqueandpayingonlyapittance.

        Emmanuelexaminedthetortoiseinhishand,touchingandpullingit.Hefoundthatitstailwasmovableandshouldhavesomekindofmechanismattachedinside.Hepulleditoutasfarasitwouldgoandthenletgo.Itbouncedback.Ah!evidentlytherewasaspringinside.Justatthatmoment,athinlineofpowdersquirtedoutofthetortoise’mouthstraighttowardsEmmanuel’snoseandmouth.Heseemedtosmellthesweetfragranceofunknownflowersandfellfastasleeponthebench.

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