4 HE GAINS A HOME

As his boots struck the edge of the road, his bad ankle gave way under him, and Jon fell in a heap. For a moment he was afraid the truck would go past without anyone noticing him. Its headlights were on, but the beams were sweeping beyond him around the curve.

He managed to struggle upright for a moment, and then sank weakly to his knees. He had dropped his staff and found that he could hardly stand without it.

The truck braked suddenly and stopped. A man leaned out and said in quick concern, "hey there, young fellow! What seems to be wrong?"

Jon opened his mouth soundlessly and raised one hand. He heard a woman's voice say, "For Heaven's sake, children, let me out-I think the boy's hurt!"

Both doors of the truck flew open. The man stepped out of the driver's side, and a boy and a girl tumbled from the other, followed by the woman. Jon saw that the girl was about his own size. The boy was much larger, but he seemed no older than himself. Both wore jackets and blue jeans with FENDI inscribed on them, like the woman.

Though the man was nearer, he moved with a slight limp, and the woman reached him first. "My goodness, honey," she said, stooping and raising him gently, "your face and hands are all scraped. Did you have a fall?"

He nodded, and the man asked, "Are you hurt badly?"

Jon shook his head. His eyes swung quickly from one to the other. The woman wore a green scarf around her bright hair. There were freckles across her lean cheeks, and small laughter creases at the corners of her eyes and mouth. The man had a thick shock of dark hair graying at the temples; his face was ruddy, but deeply lined.

The man said, "Can you tell us where you live, sonny?"

Jon shook his head again. There was sudden silence. The woman bit her lower lip, and then asked quietly, "Can you understand what we're saying?"

Again he nodded, and she said, "Thomas, I believe he's had a bad shock that keeps him from speaking. I hate to take him to the hospital. I think all he needs is a hot meal and some rest."

"We're taking him home with us," the man said definitely. "If he had been lost in the mountains all day, he's had it. He jerked his head at the boy and girl. "Sally, you and Brooks should ride in the back of the truck. Mary-"

"I'll carry him," she said, "He hardly weighs what Sally does."

"Mommy," said Sally, speaking for the first time. "Where do you think he's from?"

"I can't guess, but it doesn't make a difference. He needs help and that's all that matters. All aboard!"

She swung Jon into the truck and settled him on the seat beside her. The two children scrambled into the back, and the man slid behind the wheel.

While the truck drove along the road, Jon sat with his hands clenched, trying to suppress the sudden tears of thankfulness that ran down his cheeks. It was so wonderful to find people who were, well, like people should be. If only he could talk to them and explain but he couldn't make up words…

He tried to fit their spoken words to the thoughts he had felt in them. Their names he knew: Thomas, Mary, Sally, Brooks. His quick ears had already picked out scores of words for his eager memory to hold, but fitting them to the right thoughts would take time. He wished they would speak more, but they said little during the drive.

Even so, he was aware of questions in all of them. The man: Odd-never seen a boy like him. Can't be from around here." The woman: "There's something very strange about him. It's not his long hair. We're used to that. His features are so-so sensitive. And his jacket-where in the world can you find material like that?"

The truck slowed presently, and the headlights swept a small brown building with a sign that read, "BEAN'S ROCK SHOP, SMOKY MOUNTAIN GEMS." They turned into a lane beside it and climbed in the second gear to a house nearly hidden by evergreens. There was a barn some distance behind the house, and Jon was aware of animals there, waiting. A dog barked furiously at them until he gave it an answering thought of friendliness.

They got out, and the woman carried him to the door, which the man opened with a key. Lights came on, and he was placed on a couch by a fireplace. It was a comfortable room, paneled in brown wood. He was aware of a flicker of pride in the man, who had built this home with his own hands.

The man said, "Brooks, you and Sally unload the groceries, then look after the stock."

"Aw, Dad," Brooks grumbled. "Please, can't we-"

"Do as I say and I'll handle the milking later. There'll be plenty of time to get acquainted with him. And if your mother will make us supper. I'll build a fire and play doctor. The boy needs attention."

While the man kindled a fire, Jon removed his woven boots and carefully rolled his trousers up above his knees.

The man, turning, saw the bruises and whistled softly. He examined them carefully. "You sure got banged up, young fellow, but I don't believe any bones are broken. Some of the Bean family liniment ought to do the trick. Good for all types of ailments from hornet stings to hair loss.

At that moment, as Brooks and his sister were bringing in the last of the groceries, a truck turned into the lane outside. Jon sat up quickly, his lips compressed. There was no mistaking the particular sound of that truck.