"A one-bite, too," breathed Mavis.
Mrs. Milbun came over and looked at Dan approvingly.
Dan had been about to apologize, but checked himself when the others
smiled cheerfully and went back to what they were doing. This consisted
of dodging, tricking or outrunning the various contraptions that lunged
at them, chased them, tripped them, trailed, stalked and sprang out at
them from nearly every place in the room.
Finally the gym began to fill up with other people. The Milbuns got
ready to leave and Dan followed.
* * * * *
Dan lay in his bed that night and tried to summarize the points he
didn't understand. First was the question of vacation. But he supposed
he would learn about that tomorrow. Next was "charge." Apparently
one went on vacation when his "charge" was low, because the vacation
advisor had said, "The family put their vacation off for her, and as a
result their charge has run very low." But just what was "charge"?
Dan remembered the flickering bulb in the store window, ringed by
the words "Your Corrected Charge--Courtesy of Save-Your-Life Co."
Apparently he had _some_ charge, because the bulb had flickered. But
where did he get it?
Then he thought of the waterfront and of the little boy caught at the
hole. What was the point of that? And why did that produce such an
uproar when, a little later, a grown man could get dragged out of sight
on a well-traveled street and never cause a single notice?
Dan felt himself sinking into a maze of confusion. He dismissed the
problems and went to sleep clinging to one fact. The Porcyns _must_ be
honest people who would keep an agreement, once made. On what other
planet could anyone find a slot machine with no slot, but just an open
box for the money?
Dan fell asleep, content that he had the answer to that part of the
problem, at least.
Before it was light, he awoke to an odd familiar buzz inside his head.
"Dan," said Kielgaard's voice, small and remote.