“Yeah, runnin’ like nobuddy’s business,” Nickie added, with narrowed eyes upon Devlin. “An’ like he told us in his dream, who do we see standin’ down there like a ghost, but Timmy!”
Devlin’s face looked almost black, but he said nothing.
“Yeah, we was scared, an’ how!” Skippy said excitedly. “It was rainin’ so hard an’ the wind was blowin’ so we couldn’t hear hardly nothin’ he said.”
“You couldn’t?” Devlin’s query was almost too eager.
Nickie sighed with understanding and Skippy went on, “All we heard him say was somethin’ bout somebody bein’ hurt. Maybe it was him, I don’t know. Anyway, mister, we told him we couldn’t let him in ’cause Frost was away an’ we told him he better run an’ go back where he come from. So he stood there awhile an’ said sump’n about a car stoppin’ an’ all of a sudden the wind blew our lantern out ’cause we opened the window an’ couldn’t shut it again.”
“Yeah, an’ Timmy musta went away then,” Nickie finished. “The kid an’ me we calls n’ calls so after I says to the kid, maybe we only imagined it was Timmy, hah? We been talkin’ so much bout the nightmare he had that night, I says I guess we had it on the brain. It was some spooky here tonight with the storm an’ all, an’ a guy can imagine a lot.”
“You must have imagined a terrible lot!” Devlin said gravely. “The last I saw of Timmy Underwood, he was waving to me from the window of a train bound for Montana.”
Skippy stood speechless and Nickie walked helplessly to the bed and sat down.
“I suppose the whole thing made you a little nervous,” Devlin said, staring down at the dilapidated writing table. He coughed. “This is a quiet place, specially during a storm. But boys your age being so nervous as to push the bed....”
“We couldn’t find no match to light a lantern,” Skippy said, feeling limp.