"Just l-listen to me, son," Hall pleaded. "Just listen to me. I won't hurt you."
But the boy was beyond reasoning. Terror stricken, he screamed at the top of his voice, using all his little strength to escape.
"If you p-promise to l-listen to me, I'll let you go," Hall said.
"I promise," the boy sobbed, still struggling.
But the moment Hall let go of his coat, he tore away and ran as fast as he could over the adjacent field.
"W-wait—don't run away," Hall shouted. "I won't hurt you. Stay where you are. I couldn't follow you anyway. I'd sink to my hips."
The logic of the last sentence appealed to the frightened lad. He hesitated and then stopped and turned around, a hundred feet or so from the highway.
"L-listen," said Hall earnestly. "The teledepths are wr-wrong. They d-didn't tell you the t-truth about us. I d-don't want to hurt anyone. All I n-need is a few hours. D-don't tell anyone for j-just a few hours and it'll be all right." He paused because he didn't know what to say next.
The boy, now that he seemed secure from danger had recovered his wits. He plucked a blade of grass from the ground and chewed on an end of it, looking for all the world like a grownup farmer thoughtfully considering his fields. "Well, I guess you could have hurt me plenty, but you didn't," he said. "That's something."
"Just a few hours," Hall said. "It won't take long. Y-you can tell your father tonight."