Mists of Dawn (9 page)

Mark
Nye
brightened
visibly
at
the
prospect.
“There are
some
swell
places
on
the
reservation,”
he
said.
“I snagged
some
beauties
there
last
time,
and
the
Indians invited
me
to
come
back
and
try
it
again.”

“We’ll
keep
it
in
mind,”
Doctor
Nye
agreed.
“But first
…”

“But
first,
open
the
door!”
shouted
Mark.
“Here
she comes!”

There
was
a
sudden
hush
as
the
world
seemed
to
pull its
defenses
together
to
ward
off
a
mighty
blow.
Then
a livid
flash
of
lightning
split
the
tops
of
the
shuddering pines
and
a
blast
of
thunder
slammed
into
the
earth like
a
monstrous
fist
of
iron.
A
clean,
fresh,
wet
smell blew
up
from
the
valley
below
and
the
first
big,
heavy drops
of
rain
pattered
like
lead
pellets
on
the
roof
of the
lodge.

Doctor
Nye
threw
open
the
door
and
they
hurried inside,
with
Fang
well
in
the
lead
and
barking
excitedly.
Mark
shut
the
door
behind
them
and
switched on
the
inside
lights.
The
storm
hit
with
full
fury
then, with
the
wind
shaking
the
lodge
and
the
rain
pounding down
in
torrents
on
the
roof.

“I’m
just
as
glad
we’re
not
fishing
now,”
Doctor
Nye said.
“You
wouldn’t
be
able
to
tell
the
fishermen
from the
fish.”

Mark
grinned.
“I
remember
the
last
time
we
got caught
out
in
a
storm
like
this—I
got
so
wet
I
didn’t have
to
drink
anything
for
a
month.”

The
sitting
room
of
Doctor
Nye’s
lodge
was
neat
and comfortable,
with
long
shelves
full
of
books,
a
bust
of Caesar
by
the
lamp
on
the
table,
Navajo
rugs
on
the floor,
and
walls
of
lightly
varnished
pine.
For
a
few minutes
they
were
content
just
to
sit
there
and
listen to
the
storm
raging
outside.
Fang
had
already
found
his favorite
spot
in
the
best
armchair
in
the
room
and
had gone
to
sleep.

“Well,
who
fixes
supper
tonight?”
asked
Doctor
Nye.

“I
will,”
Mark
offered.
“But
before
I
do
.
.
.”

“Yes?”

“You
haven’t
let
me
go
down
with
you
to
see
the time
machine
since
you
started
in
on
its
final
construction.
You
said
I
could
see
it
when
it
was
finished, Uncle
Bob.”

Doctor
Nye
nodded.
“That’s
a
bargain,
Mark,”
he said,
“though
I’m
afraid
there
isn’t
too
much
to
see.
If you’re
expecting
some
sort
of
weird
contraption
with electricity
flying
through
the
air
all
around
it
like
in
the Frankenstein
movies,
you’re
going
to
be
disappointed.”

“I’m
not
interested
in
what
it
looks
like,”
Mark
assured
his
uncle.
“I’m
interested
in
what
it
can
do”

“Good
boy,”
his
uncle
approved.
“You
get
supper started
and
we’ll
have
a
look
at
my
little
brain
child.”

Mark
disappeared
into
the
kitchen,
extracted
the remnants
of
the
previous
night’s
roast
from
the
ice
box, and
shoved
it
into
the
oven
to
warm
up.
Then
he started
a
fresh
pot
of
coffee
and
rejoined
his
uncle.