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.It had sharp edges and cut her tongue and the roof of her mouth as shemade her throat work and swallow it.But suddenly she sensed something in her that partook of Scott and Oliver and Scat and Ozzie, andof something in the lake itself, and even of poor Hans, and she was sure that she was not too exhaustedto stand up again.Mavranos was certain he was going to have a stroke and cheat cancer.He was tasting blood as he limped across the street, not knowing if the blood was his own orPogue's, and his throat burned from having shouted, Eat me! in helpless tandem with Snayheever'sground-shaking voice a few moments ago.And now, in a fast halo of swirling, fluttering bats, Snayheever had climbed up and was dancing onthe coping of the far wall. The wall that fell away at a very steep slope for six hundred feet of empty air to the cement roof of the power plant on the downstream side of the dam.Pogue was in the street, blundering among the stopped cars, and at one moment he seemed to beclose enough for Mavranos to lunge to him and at the next seemed hundreds of feet away.Mavranos was afraid that Pogue would knock Snayheever down into those yawning half-natural andhalf-engineered canyon depths and then, freed from Snayheever's induced insanity and blindness, makehis way back across the street and dive into the lake, stopping the clock and ruining the water.If Poguetried to do that, Mavranos probably would have to try shooting at him.The air was hard to breathe it was suddenly cloudy with hot, steamy, sticky mist, but it didn't seemto be Pogue's blood anymore; when Mavranos brushed his hand across his mouth, he felt his mustacheslicked with something that smelled like algae.He tugged the.38 free of his belt and held it out in front ofhim as he bumped and stumbled among the cars after Pogue.And though he was still half blinded by Snayheever's demanding pronouncements, he was sure thatsome of the things that he saw darting in circles around Snayheever's capering form were fish: bass, andcarp, and catfish with sweeping tentacles.Some of the finny shapes seemed to be so tiny as to be circlingin front of Mavranos's face, and others seemed to be huge, and moving around with astronomic speedsomewhere as far away as the orbit of the moon.The pavement under his boots was shifting, and when he looked down, he saw cracks in the concreterapidly expanding and narrowing like pulsing arteries was the dam breaking up? and then he seemedto be hanging far above the earth, himself way out there in the moon's orbit, and what had seemed to becracks or arteries below him were great river deltas changing in the violet-shifted radiation of unnaturallyquick-passing centuries.He made himself look up, and he saw the bats scatter away from Snayheever in ribby, flutteringclouds, for the crazy man had started roaring again: "King and Queen of Caledon, how many miles toBabylon?"Snayheever was prancing along on the precipitous edge of the chest-high coping, kicking up his feetand tossing his arms, the tails of his threadbare coat flying in the wet wind.He seemed to Mavranos to betaller; in fact, it seemed for a moment that he towered over the mountains on either side of the dam, hisjoyfully upturned idiot face the closest thing to the sky."Threescore miles and ten," he sang harshly, his voice mirrored in the quaking of the bats and theflying fish."Can I get there by moonlight? Yes, and back again."The sky was dark, as if with a sudden overcast, but the full moon shone clearly over the mountains.The dam shook with turbulence and disorder in the penstocks and turbines that were its heart."I guess I make it more," said Crane as he tossed another couple of bills into the pot, trying to put afaint tone of theatrical reluctance in the statement, as would someone who holds a cinch hand and istrying to look weak to get a call.Crane had promptly raised the original two-hundred-dollar bet, but the young man, after somethought, had raised it back to Crane.He felt as though this hand had been in play for at least an hour.The houseboat seemed to be turning in the water, and Crane had to force himself not to grip theedges of the table as several of the other players were doing.Now the young man was facing another two-hundred-dollar raise, and he rubbed his stubbly chindazedly and stared at Crane's six showing cards: the Six and Eight of Cups, the Knight of Clubs, and theSeven, Eight, and Nine of Swords.Crane knew that his opponent held an Ace-high Flush in Coins; the young man was clearly wonderingwhether or not Crane's Seven, Eight, and Nine of Swords could possibly be part of a Straight Flush, which would beat him.Crane saw the young man's pupils dilate and knew that his opponent was about to call the raise andend the betting for the showdown.Crane was about to lose.And he had one urgent thought: Ozzie, what can I do here?Got it."What's your name, boy?" Crane said abruptly, flashing a wide and no doubt lipstick-stained toothygrin, and he prayed that his opponent had a one-syllable name."Uh," the young man muttered distractedly, moving his hand toward his stack of bills, "Bob.""He called!" Crane shouted instantly, flipping over his two hole cards, which were the Ten and theKing of Swords, but keeping his palm over the name printed at the bottom of the King, so that only theend of a sword could be seen on the card."And I've got a Jack-high Straight Flush!""I didn't call!" yelled young Bob."I just said 'Bob'! You all heard me!"Crane instantly flipped the King back over, and then intentionally fumbled in turning over the Ten sothat everyone could see it before it was again hidden.Crane looked up then, trying to put a look of tight outrage on his made-up face."I say he said, 'Call.'""You freak," said Newt, wiping his sweating old face."He said, 'Bob.' "The other players all nodded and mumbled assent.Leon was staring at Crane."You're awfully eager to get one more bet," he said, frowning inpuzzlement."But the boy said, clearly, 'Bob.' " Leon turned his unswollen eye on Crane's youngopponent."Do you want to call?""Against a Straight Flush? No, thank you." Young Bob turned his cards over and tossed them aside."The Flying Nun can take a flying leap."Crane shrugged in faked chagrin and reached out to rake in the pile of bills.Thank you, Ozzie, hethought."Ah ah!" said Leon, holding up one smooth brown hand."I am a parent of that hand, remember." Heturned on Crane a smile that was terrible under the bandage and behind the gray and purple swelling andthe inflamed veins."I'm claiming the Assumption." He pulled a billfold out of his white jacket and beganfanning out hundred-dollar bills."Newt, count the pot, would you?" Leon smiled at Crane again."I'llmake the last call for everything."Crane spread his hands and kept his head down to conceal the fast pulse in his throat.It was darkoutside, and Crane was afraid to look out the ports; he thought he'd see solid brown lake water at eachone, as if the boat had turned upside down and it were only some kind of centrifugal force that held theplayers in their chairs."Okay," Crane whispered, "though you you know you've got a little bit of me anyway.""If your heels be nimble and light," roared Snayheever, his voice shaking dust down from themountainous slopes, "you may get there by candlelight!"Ray-Joe Pogue was still trying to cross the street; one old woman had seen his hat and begunscreaming, and he was blindly trying to grope his way around her
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