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diff --git a/33047.txt b/33047.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b80351 --- /dev/null +++ b/33047.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1558 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eye of Wilbur Mook, by H. B. Hickey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Eye of Wilbur Mook + +Author: H. B. Hickey + +Release Date: July 2, 2010 [EBook #33047] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYE OF WILBUR MOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Karina Aleksandrova and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + [Transcriber's Notes + + 1. This etext was produced from Amazing Stories November 1948. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + 3. Variations in spelling ("gray" vs. "grey") have been retained + as they appear in the original publication. + + 2. Obvious misprints were corrected. Full list of corrections made + is available at the end.] + + +[Illustration: There was a cloud of smoke, a horrid visage, and Mook's +legs grew weak beneath him.] + + + + +The EYE of WILBUR MOOK + +by H. B. HICKEY + + +"Wilbur!" his mother called. "Better get up or you'll be late for work!" + +Slowly but surely Wilbur Mook came out of his beautiful dream. And what +a dream it was! He had Peter Bellows down and was busily punching his +head. What a dream! + +Then his mother's voice pulled him away from Pete Bellows and dragged +him back to reality. Wilbur opened one eye and looked at the clock on +his bedside table. Its hand said eight o'clock. + +Wilbur flung off the covers and slid his bare feet into lamb's wool +bedroom slippers. If he didn't hurry, Wilbur thought, he'd be late to +work. At the thought of facing Pete Bellows' angry stare Wilbur +shuddered. It was all right to dream, but real life was quite another +thing. + +Quickly, he ran water into the washbowl and washed his hands and face. +No time to shower or shave. Running his hand over his chin Wilbur found +he didn't need a shave anyway. By skipping that operation he could get +to the office early. + +[Illustration: When the world's most cowardly man met the world's +bravest--history was changed] + +He took a moment to survey himself in the long mirror on the back of +the bathroom door. "Every day in every way I am getting better and +better," Wilbur muttered. Then he heard his mother's footsteps outside +in the hall and he hurried to put on his robe. Just in time he got his +head out of the way as the door swung inward. + +"You look nice this morning," Mrs. Mook said. "Now hurry before your +breakfast gets cold." + +He did look pretty good, Wilbur admitted to himself as he looked again +into the mirror. At twenty-five his skin was firm and healthy looking, +his body straight and neither too thin nor too fat. His reddish-brown +hair was free of dandruff, his blue eyes clear. + +Only one thing wrong with the picture. He had the soul of a rabbit. He +was a coward. There was a tinge of desperation in his voice as he spoke +again to his image in the mirror: + +"Every day in every way I am getting braver and braver." + +Unfortunately it was not true and Wilbur Mook knew it. And the only +reason he was not growing more timid, Wilbur reflected miserably, was +that such a thing lay outside the realm of possibility. + +What was even worse was the fact that everyone else knew it too. It +could not have been more evident had Wilbur carried a sign. The only +thing he could say was that his mother loved him anyway. Small +consolation. + +"Read the paper on the streetcar," she said as she helped him into his +coat. "And don't run. You know it upsets your stomach when you've just +eaten breakfast." + +His breakfast had consisted, as always, of orange juice, one poached egg +on toast and warm milk. Anything stronger than warm milk, Mrs. Mook had +discovered, disturbed Wilbur no end. + + * * * * * + +As he walked to the car Wilbur's mind went back over the dream. That was +the stuff! And one of these days he was going to make that dream come +true. Pete Bellows was going to find out a thing or two. + +"Whyncha look where you're goin'?" a shrill voice demanded. + +Wilbur stopped abruptly. In his trance-like state he had stepped on the +heel of a twelve-year-old boy bound for school. The boy was glaring at +him fiercely and Wilbur cringed. + +"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said, knowing that his face was losing color. + +"Yah!" the boy snarled. "Look where you're goin' and you won't have to +be sorry." + +For a moment Wilbur feared the boy was going to hit him. Then a call +came from down the street as another school-bound lad hove into sight, +and the first one promptly forgot about Wilbur. + +Heaving a sigh of relief, Wilbur crossed gingerly to the safety island +and waited for his car. When it came he found that all the seats were +occupied but he discovered a vacant corner at the front and huddled +there. + +Unfolding his paper carefully he scanned the world news and found it +depressing. It always was, Wilbur thought. He turned to the sport pages +for solace. That too was depressing, for it featured the doings of those +public heroes who battered each other to a pulp for profit and applause. + +Not that Wilbur would have been unwilling to attend a prize fight. No +indeed. He would have enjoyed it immensely, except that he could not +stand the sight of men beating each other. And the blood! Even the +thought of blood made him slightly ill. + +He turned quickly to the want ads. Those were always safe, sometimes +even exciting. Today there was a man who needed a bodyguard. Wilbur +reflected wistfully that he would have made a fine bodyguard, if only +things were different. + +Actually he was a writer of greeting-card poetry, and as he swung off +the car his mind was already busy on a poem for Mother's Day. All he +needed was a good last line. So far it went: + + "To the Mother so loving and tender, + On this day that is yours alone, + Homage I willingly render, + Ta ta-ta tum ta ta." + +The last line would come to him, Wilbur knew. It always did. In the +meantime he nodded shyly to the elevator starter and found himself a +place at the back of the car. It rose swiftly and his heart pounded. + +What if it should stop suddenly between floors? There was a beautiful +girl standing next to Wilbur and he thought how fear would flood her +face. That was the time when a cool and confident voice could avert +panic. But Wilbur was aware that there was more chance that the voice +would be the girl's rather than his. + +His mind went back to the last line of the ditty he had been composing. +He almost had it, then it was gone. He bit down on his tongue in +concentration, unaware that he was staring at the girl next to him. + +"My devotion you'll always own," Wilbur murmured. + +"On such short acquaintance?" the girl smiled. + + * * * * * + +Wilbur turned pink, then red. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant it +that way, and he found himself wishing he had. She was the kind of girl +he sometimes dreamed about, tall and not too thin, with golden hair and +gray eyes in which flecks of color danced. + +"I meant my mother," Wilbur managed at last. + +"How sweet. Now would you mind getting out of my way?" + +Wilbur looked down and found that he had somehow managed to walk from +the elevator to his office without knowing it. He had his hand on the +doorknob. + +"I beg your pardon," he mumbled, and flung the door open in what he +hoped was a gallant gesture. + +There was a crash as the door swung inward for a few feet and stopped. +The crash was immediately followed by a howl of pain. A moment later +Pete Bellows' flushed and furious face came around the side of the door. +He was rubbing his head. + +"Mook, you idiot!" Bellows roared. "I ought to punch your nose for +this!" + +"He didn't know your head was in the way," the girl said. + +"Huh?" Bellows grunted. He took a good look at the girl and the anger +drained from his face. Without thinking he straightened his tie and +slicked back his oily black hair. + +"You must be Miss Burnett, the girl the agency said they were sending," +Bellows murmured in his most dulcet tones. "Well, well, Wilbur, this is +my new secretary." + +"But how do you know I'll do?" Miss Burnett said, startled. + +"Oh, you'll do. I just know you will," Bellows told her. "You and I are +going to get along just dandy." + +"My shorthand is a little rusty," the girl said. + +"What's a little thing like that?" Bellows laughed, ignoring the fact +that he had fired his last secretary because she had misspelled an +eight-syllable word. + +But the last secretary had worn thick glasses, Wilbur recalled. That +would make a difference to Pete Bellows. He was suddenly aware that +Bellows was frowning at him. + +"Get to work, Mook," Bellows said cheerfully. "Mother's Day is coming, +you know." + +With what he pretended was a gentle pat on the back Bellows flung Wilbur +toward the tiny cubicle he occupied at the rear of the large office. +Once Bellows had played tackle on a football team and although he was +beefier now he was still very strong. Wilbur almost went through the +thin partition. + +He bounced off and recovered his balance, then went into his cubicle +through the door. It was a windowless hole, lit by a single small bulb. +Wilbur worked at an old table which was neatly stacked with sheets of +blank paper. He furnished his own pen. + +There was a small window in Wilbur's door, but contrary to what a +visitor might have expected, it had not been placed there for Wilbur's +convenience. The window was the means by which Bellows could watch his +poet and be certain that he was working every minute of the time. + + * * * * * + +Today Wilbur found himself at a loss for rhymes. By mid-morning he had +completed only fifteen poems in praise of Mother. He still had some +fifty to go. But instead of writing he too often caught himself +listening to what was going on in the outer office. + +"Mr. Bellows--" the new girl started to say. + +"Call me Pete," Wilbur heard Bellows tell her. "I'll call you Jean. Just +one happy family, you know, you and I and Wilbur." + +"Does Mr. Mook write all the poetry?" Miss Burnett wanted to know. She +sounded quite impressed and Wilbur glowed with a new found pride. + +"Just a knack. Doesn't take any brains," Bellows deprecated. "Any fool +could do it." + +I'd like to see you try, Wilbur thought. You're one fool who couldn't. +He thought that was pretty good repartee, even if it was only mental. +Wilbur wished he had the nerve to say the words to Bellows' face. But he +didn't. + +His newspaper, still folded to the classified ads, reposed in Wilbur's +wastebasket and his eyes chanced to fall upon it. Something stirred in +Wilbur. There had been one advertisement in particular. Just below the +request for a bodyguard. He wondered if he had read it right. + +Keeping one eye on the window to make sure Bellows did not observe him, +Wilbur retrieved his newspaper. Quickly his eye sped down the column. +There it was: + + Are you timid? Do you lack confidence? I can help you. A. J. Merlin, + 136 W. Erie St. + +Wilbur shook his head and dropped the newspaper into the wastebasket. He +was rather inclined to think A. J. Merlin was overestimating his powers. +Probably a fake, anyway. Most of those fellows were. + +Looking out of his window, Wilbur saw Bellows patting Jean on the +shoulder as he explained something to her. He was a fast worker, was +Pete Bellows. By the time Wilbur got the next line of poetry written +Bellows was asking Jean if he could take her to lunch. + +Before answering she turned her head toward Wilbur and he could see that +she was none too happy about the offer. She seemed to be trying to think +of a good reason for not accepting. + +"Well?" Pete asked. Jean looked back at him. + +"I--I guess so," Wilbur heard her say. Bellows patted her on the +shoulder again. + +I wonder, Wilbur thought, what she would say if I asked her sometime? +That looked like a question which would never find an answer. It would +take more nerve than he had to ask. But the very thought of him inviting +a girl like Jean to lunch sent a pleasant tingle down Wilbur's back. He +even allowed himself to think that she might prefer a smoother type of +man than Pete Bellows. Smoother, Wilbur reminded himself miserably, not +mushier. + +Just before noon Pete Bellows came in to get the copy Wilbur had turned +out through the morning. At the sight of the tiny stack which had +accumulated Bellows' mouth turned down. + +"Loafing!" he accused. "Just because I've been too busy to keep my eyes +on you!" + +It occurred to Wilbur that the only thing he'd seen Pete do that morning +was pat Jean's shoulder, and that hardly seemed like hard work. But he +didn't say anything. + +"Probably reading the paper while my back was turned," Pete went on. He +reached down and got the paper and put it in his pocket. "Now, listen to +me, Mook. You'd better have some work done when Jean and I get back from +lunch!" + +Wilbur nodded without looking up at him. He was always afraid to look at +Bellows when the burly man was angry. Pete could get a vicious glint in +his eye. After Pete had left the cubicle Wilbur sneaked a look after +him. He saw that Jean had heard the whole thing. And at sight of the +distaste on her face he flushed. + +Why couldn't he have told Pete off? Wilbur started to dream about what +he should have said. Then he stopped. It was all right to daydream but +Pete had sounded sore when he had said he wanted to see some work done. +Wilbur put his head down and started writing. + +Within the hour he had completed six odes to Mother. One of them, Wilbur +knew, he could sell to a magazine for twenty times what Bellows would +pay. For a moment he was tempted, even going so far as to pick up the +sheet of paper preparatory to putting it in his pocket. Then he thought +of what Pete Bellows might do if he found out. Wilbur set the paper back +on the pile. + +He was just in time. There were footsteps out in the hall and then the +door swung open. Bellows and Jean came in. The girl was laughing now, +and as Pete helped her off with her coat he was practically breathing +down her neck. It looked as though he had made some progress. + +"Is it all right if I go to lunch now?" Wilbur asked timidly. He had to +wait until Pete had checked over his work. Then he got permission to go. + + * * * * * + +Until he was outside Wilbur felt hungry. For an hour his stomach had +been reminding him that it was time to eat. But suddenly the pangs of +hunger were gone. The thought of food was even unpleasant. + +Maybe a short walk would give him fresh appetite, Wilbur thought. The +day was pleasant and sunny. If he spent a half hour walking he would +still have twenty minutes in which to gulp a sandwich. Pete Bellows had +decreed that fifty minutes constituted a lunch hour for Wilbur. + +It was with no conscious motive that Wilbur headed south. He found +himself walking at a gait much faster than his usual one, but attributed +that to the fine weather which he assured himself was exhilarating. +Before he realized how fast he was going he had covered a dozen blocks. + +The neighborhood had changed. Behind him lay the business district with +its skyscrapers. All about him were the sagging and unsightly houses of +a once fine residential neighborhood which had deteriorated into a slum +area. The only places which seemed at all cared for were the rooming +houses. + +A poem of protest rose in Wilbur's breast, and was stilled as he became +aware that he was on Erie street. The street had some meaning for him +but it took several minutes before he realized why. Then he gasped. Only +two doors from where he stood was 136 West Erie Street! + +For a long time Wilbur stood looking at the house. It was an old red +brick structure three stories high. The upper two floors appeared +untenanted. If they were not, the occupants must have liked fresh air +for there were no windows. + +Wilbur directed his attention to the first floor. The windows there were +too dusty to see through, but at least there were windows. A fat grey +cat sunned itself on the window ledge and regarded Wilbur with +unblinking eyes. He shuddered and had to summon all his courage to climb +the stairs and look at the card nailed to the front door. A. J. Merlin, +the card said, in an unusual script that Wilbur had trouble deciphering. + +He raised his hand to knock, then changed his mind. But as he was +turning away he heard the door open. + +"Looking for me, bub?" a creaking voice said. Wilbur turned around. + +He found himself face to face with an old gentleman wrapped in what +appeared to be a blue dressing gown with white stars all over it. The +old man had a wisp of a beard and white eyebrows that slanted way up at +the outside corners. He was wearing on his head a blue dunce cap which +also had white stars on it. + +"Are you-uh-Mr. A. J. Merlin?" Wilbur stammered. "I mean the Mr. Merlin +who gives people confidence?" + +"I might be," the old man said cagily. + +He stared down at Wilbur, and for the first time Wilbur noticed the old +man had eyes as black and mysterious as a pool on a dark night. Those +eyes regarded Wilbur, noting his size, weight and general construction. + +"Bah," the old man snorted. "You won't do. Not timid enough." + +"Yes, sir," Wilbur chattered. He started backward down the stairs and +almost fell. + +"Wait a minute," the creaky voice ordered. + +Wilbur halted in mid-step. The black eyes regarded him. A hand tipped by +long, curving fingernails stroked the wisp of a beard. + +"On the other hand," the old man said, "you might be more timid than you +look. Come on in." + + * * * * * + +Wilbur trailed after him down a long dark hallway that was musty with +age. At the end of the hall was an equally musty room, sparsely +furnished with sagging and broken odds and ends. It was not the +furniture which engaged Wilbur's attention, but the other features of +the place. + +On an ancient stand a sun-dial reposed, and next to it a large and +milk-white glass ball. Near the stand a tripod stood over a sheet of +metal on which a small fire blazed, and from the tripod a kettle was +suspended. Something bubbled in the kettle, something that gave off a +strange and noxious odor. + +Around the room jugs were scattered, and as Wilbur caught sight of the +labels a chill ran up his back. There were such unusual items as +_Essence of Dried Toad_, _Basilisk Oil_, _Chimera's Breath-Distilled_. + +"Sit down," A. J. Merlin said suddenly. Wilbur sat down with such +abruptness that he almost went through an ancient sofa to the floor. +Merlin's eyes lit up. + +"You really are timid," he said. + +"Yes, sir," Wilbur agreed hastily. "Do you think you can help me?" + +"Depends. It isn't my regular line. I came here looking for a special +kind of person. If you're that person you can help me. In return I'll do +the same for you. All depends on how cowardly you are." + +"I've never been brave about anything in my life," Wilbur said +truthfully. + +He went on in detail. In a short history of his life he made it clear +that he was a complete and abject coward. He was afraid of anything that +walked or swam or flew, no matter how small. He was afraid of dark +rooms. A dirty look made him tremble. + +"Perfect," Merlin breathed. He rubbed his taloned hands together. "Not a +shred of courage in you." + +"Is that good?" Wilbur gasped. + +Merlin smiled, and with his smile his eyebrows slanted more than ever. +His ears were suddenly elongated. + +"Ordinarily not," he said. Wilbur had a hunch that this time there would +be nothing extraordinary to alter the case. + +"I've tried everything," he told Merlin. "I've gone to psychologists, +read books, even tried Yoga. Nothing helps." + +"Naturally," Merlin said. "I'll tell you why: Everyone is a mixture of +traits handed down from his ancestors. Somewhere in every man's ancestry +is a brave person. Even if that bravery is hidden, it's still there, and +it can be brought out." + +"What happened to me?" Wilbur wanted to know. + +"You got cheated," Merlin said as though he were immensely pleased. "You +got only half the traits, and they were the cowardly ones. That's why +you couldn't be cured. There was no bravery in you to be brought out." + +"Oh," Wilbur gulped. "I guess I'd better be going." He started to rise. + +"Sit down," Merlin said. Wilbur plunked back into the sofa. He watched +Merlin walk to the stand and lift the glass ball. The old man peered +into the ball and its color changed to rose, then purple. Something was +going on inside it but Wilbur couldn't see what. + +"Who's this fellow Pete Bellows?" Merlin wanted to know. + +Wilbur was astonished. He hadn't mentioned Pete's name. When he told the +old man who Pete was Merlin chuckled. + +"Thinks he's quite a man with the ladies, doesn't he? I'll fix him." + +Merlin made a pass over the glass ball and muttered a few words which +Wilbur didn't catch. There was a sudden thump, clearly audible to +Wilbur, and Merlin chuckled gleefully. + +"What happened?" Wilbur asked. + +"The door opened just as he was going by and he walked into the edge of +it. He's got a black eye." + +"Good-bye," Wilbur said. The hair on the back of his neck was standing +on end as he moved toward the door of the room. + +"Come back here," Merlin commanded. "You want me to make you brave, +don't you?" + +Wilbur's mind whirled. He had fallen into the hands of this old madman +and now he didn't know how to get away. Who knew what might happen to +him? He had to think of something. + +"What do you charge?" he asked. No matter what Merlin said Wilbur was +prepared to say he didn't have that much. In no way was he prepared for +Merlin's words. + +"Your right eye." + + * * * * * + +A cold sweat formed on Wilbur Mook's brow. His teeth chattered. Down at +his little toe a tremor started and worked its way up along his spine. +The roof of his mouth turned dry as dust and his throat was parched. + +"I haven't got it," he choked. Because he had been ready to say that he +had said it automatically. Too late he realized it was the wrong answer. + +"Don't be a fool," Merlin told him sternly. "Wouldn't you rather be a +one-eyed hero than a two-eyed coward?" + +"No," Wilbur said. + +Merlin glared at him balefully and Wilbur quailed and cringed. What sort +of nightmare had he wandered into? He would gladly have given everything +he owned to be back in the office. Even Pete Bellows was better than +this maniac! + +"Could I please go, Mr. Merlin?" Wilbur begged. "I'll be late if I +don't. Pete will be sore." + +"Tell you what I'll do," Merlin said, in a manner of one offering an +added incentive. "You let me have your right eye and I'll see to it that +Bellows falls down the stairs and breaks his neck." + +He picked up the glass ball again and Wilbur felt himself grow faint. +Now he was certain that this old man was not only a maniac but a +_homicidal_ maniac! + +"Wouldn't anything but my right eye do?" he asked plaintively. + +"I don't think so, but I'll look it up," Merlin said. Out of the folds +of his white-starred gown he drew a book. Wetting his index finger, +Merlin turned pages until he came to the one he wanted. + +"_Elixir of Caution_," Merlin read aloud. "One part _Fawn's Breath_, one +part _Dove's Heart-Dried_, one part _Tears of Despair_, and _Right Eye +of Complete Coward_. Simmer for one hour with proper incantations." + +"But I'm cautious enough already!" Wilbur protested. He got to his feet +hopefully. "Well, I guess this has been a mistake. I'd better be running +along." + +Merlin regarded him with a steady eye and Wilbur wished he could divine +what was going on behind those black and glittering orbs. Maybe Merlin +was going to let him go. From the way Merlin was nodding his head it +seemed that way. + +"Very well," the old man said. "But we must have a drink together." + +"Oh, I never drink," Wilbur assured him virtuously. Merlin waved aside +the protest. + +"Nothing stronger than tea," he said. + +He went to a far corner of the room and lifted a small vial which was +made of some material that shimmered irridescently. Wilbur watched +fascinated as Merlin poured a small amount of a smoky liquid from the +vial into a pair of tiny cups. + +"Are you sure this isn't strong?" Wilbur asked as Merlin handed him one +of the cups. Inside the cup the strange liquid bubbled, and from its +surface a fine vapor rose. + +"No." That was all. Then Merlin went to the sun-dial on the stand and +turned it around several times. When he had adjusted it to his +satisfaction he turned back to Wilbur and lifted his cup. + +"Here's how," Merlin said. + +Wilbur lifted his cup to his lips and drank. Merlin was right. The +liquid seemed no stronger than tea. In fact it tasted much like tea, +except that it had a smoky flavor, not at all unpleasant. + +"Thank you," he said politely, and started for the door. But he had no +more than started than he turned back and sat down again. + +It was a strange feeling which assailed Wilbur Mook. His legs seemed +weak, yet through the rest of him a strength flowed which was like +liquid fire. Then there came a giddiness. His head was feather light. + +Merlin receded, not walking but floating back and back. And as his +figure drifted away from Wilbur it grew strangely taller. The eyebrows +were more slanted than ever and the ears were longer and more pointed. +And as Merlin's figure grew larger it began to dissolve. + +Now Wilbur's entire body seemed as light as air to him. It felt as +though he too could float if he tried. He saw, as through a haze and at +a great distance, Merlin bending over the kettle which hung from the +tripod. + +From inside his flowing gown Merlin produced a wand and a packet. Out of +the packet drifted a fine white powder into the kettle. There was a wave +of the wand, and out of the kettle poured a thick black smoke which +filled the room until there was nothing but blackness. + +Wilbur's ears were filled with a roaring. He felt himself lifted and +whirled. Around and around he whirled, and faster and faster. He was +being sucked into a vortex, pulled down into a black tunnel that was +endless. + + * * * * * + +Somewhere nearby there was a crowd of people. Wilbur knew that because +he could hear the murmur of many voices. But when he opened his eyes he +found himself in a forest glade. The sun was bright overhead and on a +limb above him a bird sang. + +He shook himself and looked around. He was not alone. Only a few feet +away stood Merlin, still wearing his blue robe and his conical hat. He +nodded when he saw that Wilbur was awake. + +"How do you feel?" the old man asked. + +"Fine, thank you," Wilbur answered without thinking. + +It was when he looked down at his body that he sucked in his breath. Not +only was he no longer in that musty room, but he no longer wore his own +clothes! His body was encased in a gown of brown monk's cloth! + +"Your clothes would have been out of place here," Merlin told him, +guessing what Wilbur thought. + +"But--where am I?" + +"Near Camelot," Merlin said. "Better get up now. We haven't much time." + +Wilbur got to his feet slowly, his eyes darting about. If he saw a +chance he would make a run for it. But Merlin's hand was like a claw on +the sleeve of Wilbur's robe. + +"You try to run and I'll put a curse on you that will fix you +permanently," the old man whispered hoarsely. + +Wilbur followed him like a lamb to the slaughter. They took a path that +led out of the glade and to a road only a few yards away. Ten yards or +so down the road they came on the crowd whose voices Wilbur had heard. +His hair stood on end. + +They were before the doors of an ancient church. And in the cleared +space before those doors milled a strange throng. Men on foot wore robes +of the plain monk's cloth and carried wooden staves. Towering above them +were mounted men, men dressed in hauberks and doublets of chain mail. +All of them had their eyes fixed on something in the center of the +crowd. + +Then someone caught sight of Merlin and his name was whispered. As by +magic the people parted to let him and Wilbur through. For the first +time Wilbur saw what they had been staring at. It was a rough block of +stone, and buried to the hilt in the stone was a sword! + +"Merlin," a voice said, a voice that was heavy and assured. + +Wilbur looked up and shrank away from the armored giant on horseback who +towered over him and the old man. The giant raised the visor of his +helmet and Wilbur beheld a face that was as cruel as a hawk's. Dark +eyes gleamed from beneath black and bristling brows. + +"What mummery is this?" the dark man asked. + +"No mummery, but the good bishop's prayer answered," Merlin said calmly. +"Is not the stone inscribed, Sir Kay?" + +"Inscribed," Sir Kay echoed. "And its message is that he who withdraws +the sword shall be king of England." + +His scowl made Wilbur's knees weaken, but Merlin remained unaffected. In +fact the old man seemed quite cheerful. + +"Excalibur it is called," Merlin said. "He who wrenches it free shall +rule." + +"Hear me," Sir Kay grated. "If this be one of your tricks, know this: +none but a son of Uther Pendragon will reign." + +For a moment Wilbur forgot the two. He had caught sight of the +inscription of the stone and was reading it. Apparently it was meant to +be a poem but it did not rhyme. On the spot Wilbur produced what he +thought was a better one. He tried it out, not realizing he spoke aloud. + + "Who from this stone Excalibur draws + Shall be England's king and make her laws." + +Sir Kay frowned blackly and his hand hovered near a dagger at his side. + +"What have you to do with this, varlet?" he demanded. + +"He is but a troubadour," Merlin interjected quickly. "A bard who will +sing your praises after the tourney." + +"I had forgotten the tourney," Sir Kay grunted. "But see you forget not +my warning." + +He reined away, knocking people aside like tenpins. Behind him the other +knights followed, and after them went the common people. In a few +minutes Wilbur and Merlin found themselves alone. In the distance, and +in the direction the crowd had vanished, Wilbur saw the towers of a +medieval castle. + +"Camelot," Merlin told him. + +"I don't like this," Wilbur said. "That fellow looked as though he +wanted to slit my throat." + +"Yours wouldn't be the first one he's slit," Merlin said. "But you stay +close to me and you'll be safe enough. Although I must admit that Kay +has become quite a problem since his father died." + +"Is he a son of Uther Pendragon?" + +"Why do you think he insists that none but Uther's sons may rule?" +Merlin snarled. "But with a king like him we'd have nothing but corpses +around. That's why I needed you." + + * * * * * + +Wilbur was bewildered, but not completely baffled. It had become +painfully clear to him that Merlin had found him, not vice versa. The +advertisement in the paper had been a trick to lure a timid man. But +there was still a little clearing up to be done. + +"Would you please explain what I have to do with all this?" Wilbur asked +plaintively. Merlin clawed gently at his beard and shrugged. + +"I suppose it would be only fair, after abducting you from the twentieth +century and dragging you back here. The point is this: after Uther died +there was a squabble over who should be king. We couldn't stand a civil +war so the bishop of this church prayed for a sign, and the next day +this stone and sword were found here. So far nobody has been able to +pull it out." + +"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" Wilbur asked +naively. + +"I'm not saying. Anyway, Sir Kay is the logical man for the job, except +that he's too quick with his blade. That left only one other, and he's +got his fault too." + +Wilbur was thinking about his right eye. A little flattery might go a +long way. + +"I should think you would make a good king, Mr. Merlin." + +"My father was an incubus," Merlin said, as though that explained +everything. He peered down the road as the sound of hoofs reached them. + +Wilbur followed Merlin's gaze and saw a young man on horseback coming +toward them from the direction of Camelot. The young fellow wore a shirt +of mail but no helmet, and his horse was not armored. Merlin held up his +hand and the mounted man drew rein. Wilbur got a good look at him. + +He was almost as big as Sir Kay, but with a fair complexion and light +hair. He could not have been much over fifteen, despite his size. His +manner was easy, giving the suggestion of enormous strength in reserve, +yet with a hint of gentleness. But it was his eyes which were his +outstanding feature. They were a clear brown, wide, and with an +expression of complete fearlessness. + +"Where to, Arthur?" Merlin asked. + +"My brother Kay has broken his sword. I must get him another." + +"Tarry a moment," Merlin said. "I have a question which troubles me. The +enemies of our land march against us, and they outnumber us five to one. +Were you king, what would you do?" + +Arthur laughed, a clear ringing laugh that showed rows of white teeth. +His brown eyes glowed with an inward fire. + +"Do? I would take the field against them, of course! Even though they +outnumber us fifty to one." + +Wilbur thrilled to the words. But Merlin shuddered slightly and Wilbur +heard a faint groan of distress come from his lips. + +"Got here in the nick of time," the old man muttered. He looked up at +Arthur and said aloud: "You may have your chance. But first you must +make me a promise. You must come to my castle this very night and drink +the draught I shall prepare for you." + +"I promise," Arthur said unthinkingly. "And now I'll be getting that +sword for Kay." + +"This looks like a good one," Merlin said. He pointed to the sword in +the stone. + +"It does indeed," Arthur agreed. Without a second look he bent and +seized the hilt and wrenched it free. He raised the sword in a salute to +Merlin and Wilbur, laughed his ringing carefree laugh, and was gone in a +cloud of dust. + + * * * * * + +Merlin's castle was not overly large, and as far as Wilbur could see +after he got inside, most of it was under ground. He and the old man +were in a great damp chamber, the walls of which were solid rock. The +room was filled with Merlin's jugs, with tripods from which boiling +kettles hung, and with great black cats which prowled everywhere. The +door was of solid oak and immovable. Wilbur knew; he had tried it once +when Merlin had gone out. + +At the moment Merlin and he were sitting facing each other on a pair of +stone couches. They had been sitting so for some hours and the silence +was wearing Wilbur down. + +"So Arthur is going to be king," he said at last, in an effort to start +a conversation. "He looks like a fine boy." + +"He is," Merlin agreed. "Chivalrous and all that. It was foreordained. +That's why I had to get back. I knew he was going to be along that road +today, and I knew he was going to pull out that sword." + +"I thought you said he had a fault." + +"What a fault," Merlin sighed. "He's got your trouble, but in reverse. +He was born without fear. It's a bad thing for a king to be like that. +He'd lead his people into sure death. You heard what he said this +afternoon. Even odds of fifty to one mean nothing to him." + +For the first time Wilbur saw the whole thing. Until now he had +entertained a faint hope that Merlin might not really want his eye. But +this was the clincher. The _Elixir of Caution_! Desperately he cast +about for a means of escape. There was none. And Merlin was watching him +with an eagle eye. + +"Maybe," Wilbur offered weakly, "a few drops of my blood would do the +trick. You don't want Arthur to get _too_ timid." + +"Nice of you to think of it," Merlin said. "But I really couldn't fool +with that recipe." + +Wilbur wished with all his heart that he had the courage to put up some +kind of fight. Merlin was an old and feeble man. But he knew his +genetics. Wilbur had been born without a gene of courage. Wilbur rubbed +his right eye, the one he would soon be without, and felt tears well up. +His last glimmer of hope was borne on a sigh. + +"Maybe he won't come." + +"He'll come all right. Arthur never breaks a promise. That's one of his +best points. What I'm trying to do is see to it that he isn't so rash +about making them in the first place." + +It seemed that Merlin was right, for just then there came to their ears +the sound of iron shod hoofs in the courtyard above their heads. The +ceiling trembled slightly and a drop of water fell on Wilbur's head. +Then footsteps clattered down a long flight of stairs and the door swung +open. It was Arthur, and from his appearance it was plain he had been in +a fight. + + * * * * * + +From a cut alongside his temple blood dripped. His shirt of mail had +been pierced at the left shoulder and blood glistened redly there. Some +had trickled down and lay in beads like rubies on the gleaming mail. His +face was streaked with sweat and dirt and his hair lay in wet clumps, +and he was breathing hard. + +"What happened?" Merlin asked quickly. Arthur let out a laugh and his +eyes glowed fierce. + +"A band of varlets tried to ambush me on my way here. Had I not been in +so great a hurry to keep my appointment with you I'd have brought you +some heads on Excalibur's point." + +He held up the great sword and Wilbur turned faint at the sight of the +gore along its blade. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes rolled +upward. + +"Wipe that blade before this one perishes of fright," Merlin said +quickly. Then he became solicitous. "Are you sore wounded?" + +"There were only ten," Arthur laughed. "They were too busy defending +their lives to do me much harm. Now, where is that drink you invited me +here for?" + +"It will take a while to prepare," Merlin said. He busied himself with a +kettle and some jugs and powders. + +Wilbur was turning a pale green from fright. He had to think of +something. Suddenly he turned to Arthur. + +"You won't like this drink," he whispered urgently. "It may even poison +you!" + +Arthur stared down at him. "Even so I needs must drink it. I have given +my word. A promise may not be broken." + +Merlin was coming toward them now and Wilbur saw that the old man held +in his hand an instrument which looked like a surgeon's scalpel. He let +out a shriek of terror and would have run had his legs not been +paralyzed. + +"What is this womanly fright?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose. + +"I need his right eye to make the _Elixir of Caution_," Merlin +explained. He laid a claw on Wilbur's shoulder and it was like the hand +of doom. + +"Yeeow!" Wilbur howled. He began to babble. "You lied to me! You said +you'd make me brave! False pretenses!" + +He stopped abruptly. Merlin's hand had fallen from his shoulder. There +was a sudden silence that grew thick and ominous. Looking up fearfully, +Wilbur saw that Arthur had fixed Merlin with a hostile glare. + +"Did you so promise?" Arthur demanded. He stood straight and regal. +"Answer me, and forget not I am your king." + +Merlin's hands made feeble and apologetic gestures. + +"What could I do?" he pleaded. "One like him is born seldom. I had +searched the centuries, and there was no more time." + +He turned to Wilbur and his face betrayed an apprehension that made +Wilbur's hopes rise. Arthur did not act like he would stand for any +promise-breaking among his subjects. + +"Tell you what I could do," Merlin said. "I could put your eye back when +I'm through with it. In fact, that's a promise." + +"Will that make him brave?" Arthur demanded. + +"Well...." Merlin hesitated. Arthur's finger slid suggestively along the +blade of his sword. + +"I'll look it up," the old man finished hurriedly. + + * * * * * + +His hand dipped beneath his robe and came out with the ancient book. A +long nailed finger ran through the pages. There was a pause, and then +Merlin began to mumble. + +"_Elixir of Fortitude_: One part _Eagle's Heart-Dried_, one part _Lion's +Breath-Distilled_, one part _Essence of Steel_, hm-m-m." His voice +trailed off in a hum, then picked up again. "Simmer for one hour. +_Caution_: MUST BE FINISHED BEFORE MIDNIGHT." + +"Well?" Arthur said. + +"I've got everything except the last ingredient," Merlin said unhappily. +Suddenly his face lit up. "We'd better hurry. There is only an hour and +a half left." + +He scurried to a bottle which hung on the wall and brought it back to +Wilbur. "Drink some quickly. You will feel no pain." When Wilbur had +gulped some down Merlin took the bottle and handed it to Arthur. "You +too." + + * * * * * + +Above their heads there was a rumbling and the pounding of hoofs in the +courtyard. Quickly Merlin ran to the oak door and slammed it shut. He +seemed to be expecting trouble. It turned out he was right again. + +More than one pair of feet was on the stone stairway. Loud voices +shouted, "Open up!" Wilbur recognized one of the voices and he groaned. +Then bodies were hurled against the door. + +It held against the first assault, and against the second. The third +time there was a splintering of wood. Wilbur held his breath. A hinge +had torn loose. Once more there was the crash of armored bodies against +the oak and the door flew inward. Sir Kay was inside in a flash, and +behind him came five more. The dark man's eyes lit on Wilbur. + +"So, varlet!" Kay bellowed hoarsely. "My suspicion was right. You are in +the plot against me!" + +Without waiting for a denial he flung himself at Wilbur and his sword +swished through the air. How he managed it Wilbur never knew, but he +ducked in time. The flat of Kay's sword caught him a glancing blow on +the head and knocked him off the stone bench. + +Then the great room was filled with the clash of steel as Arthur went +into action. Out of eyes that were glassy Wilbur saw him decapitate two +men with a single stroke. Another fell dead before he could raise his +shield. The other two fled with Kay's curses following them. Only +Arthur's brother was left. + +"Yield," Arthur warned grimly. Kay's reply turned Wilbur's ears red. The +two went at it. For a few minutes it was an even battle, and then +suddenly both swords came together with a force that drew sparks. Kay +was left with only a hilt in his hand. + +What happened next Wilbur hardly knew. There was a clang as something +bounced on the stone floor, and a great round object that looked like a +helmet rolled past him. + +"Quickly now," Wilbur heard Merlin say. "There is barely the hour left +to us." + +Wilbur could hear but he could see nothing. There was a black veil over +his eyes. Powerful arms lifted him and laid him on the stone bench. Then +there was the sound of bottles being emptied into kettles. Wilbur heard +feet approach him but he was too sleepy to care. Something touched his +eye but he felt no pain. + +In his dazed state time passed quickly for him. There was always the +scuffling of Merlin's feet, and now and again the old man's creaky voice +rose in weird incantations. Then something hot was pressed against +Wilbur's lips. + +"Drink," Merlin said. Wilbur opened his mouth and felt a hot liquid gush +down his throat. + +"I want my eye," Wilbur mumbled. + +"Don't worry," Merlin told him. "I'm getting it." + +He was taking his time about it, Wilbur thought. He could hear a great +stirring going on. There were muffled curses and he heard something +bouncing on the floor. + +"Darn stuff is so thick I can't tell them apart," Merlin was muttering. + +"Hurry!" Arthur called. "The cock crows midnight!" + +"I'm doing my best," Merlin said. He was breathing hard as he bent over +Wilbur. There was a quick pressure against Wilbur's eye socket and +Merlin grunted triumphantly. + +"There!" the old man said. "I've kept my promise. Now I'm going to send +you back where I found you, and good riddance. You've been nothing but +trouble." + +Again something hot was poured down Wilbur's throat. It had a familiar +taste, a sort of smoky flavor. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, he +felt his body grow light and buoyant, he was floating. Then he was being +sucked down into a black vortex and through a Stygian passage. The +passage seemed endless but it was not, and at the end was a tiny hole of +light which grew steadily larger. + + * * * * * + +Wilbur found himself on a sagging porch, before a door that leaned on +sprung hinges. His head ached, and raising his hand he ran it along his +scalp until he found a large bump. He rolled his eyes upward as though +to see where he had been hurt. All he saw was a jagged hole in the porch +roof. At his feet was a chunk of plaster. + +It took a minute for the realization to filter through that he was +standing on the porch of 136 W. Erie Street. Wilbur recalled walking up +the stairs. After that everything was a blur. He scrutinized the door. +There was no card bearing the name of A. J. Merlin. In fact, there was no +card at all! + +"Hey, mister," a boy's voice called. Wilbur turned around and saw a +tattered urchin regarding him gravely. "Ain't nobody lived in that house +for years," the boy said. "It's haunted." + +Wilbur shuddered and at the same instant became aware of a peculiar +phenomenon. He seemed to be seeing the boy through only one eye. The +other was strangely blurred. Wilbur pulled out his handkershief and +wiped his right eye. His vision improved but as he moved toward the head +of the stairs he swayed slightly. + +"You get hurt or something?" the boy asked as Wilbur came toward him. +Wilbur rubbed his head. + +"I'm all right," Wilbur told him. He said it partly to reassure himself. + +He looked at his wrist watch and found he had only twenty minutes to get +back to work. That was puzzling. There was a lapse of time. Being a man +of imagination, Wilbur reflected that if he had actually been in the +past he would not have used up any time in the present. + +On the other hand, it was more probable that he had been hit on the head +by falling plaster and had incurred a slight lapse of consciousness, +memory, or both. He was inclined to accept that explanation. + +At any rate he was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and Pete Bellows +would be mad as a hornet. Wilbur speeded up his pace. Then he slowed +down again. If anyone should be angry it was himself. He had missed his +lunch. + +Riding up in the elevator Wilbur checked his watch again and found he +was only five minutes late. In his working life that represented two +lines of doggerel. It didn't seem like much to get excited about. But +Pete Bellows didn't see it that way. + +"Mook!" he roared, as Wilbur came through the door. "You're late!" + +If he had expected Wilbur to fall into his usual fit of trembling he was +disappointed. Wilbur was staring at him. + +"Your eye!" Wilbur gasped. Pete's left eye was swollen half shut and had +a blue ring around it. + +"He walked into the door," Miss Burnett said. "Honest." + +Wilbur smiled at her. She was a very pretty girl. Too pretty to be +working for a wolf like Pete Bellows. Wilbur had a notion to tell her +so. + +"I said you're late, Mook," Pete told him ominously. + +"So what?" Wilbur asked quietly. "If you don't like it you can fire me. +In fact, considering that you find so much fault with my work I'm +surprised you haven't discharged me long ago. But I'll save you the +trouble. I quit." + +Pete was staring at him as though Wilbur had gone mad. Maybe he had, +Wilbur thought. Maybe Pete was going to get sore and punch him in the +nose. It didn't seem to matter. + +"Not only that," Wilbur added. "I'm going into business for myself. How +would you like to work for me, Miss Burnett?" + +"I think I'd like that just fine," she said. She took her purse out of a +drawer in her desk and got her coat and put it on. + +Pete Bellows was a stricken man. For once he had nothing to say. His +mouth dropped open and he leaned against his desk. "W-wait a minute, +Wilbur, old pal," he managed to gasp finally. + +"Goodbye," was all Wilbur had to say. He held the door open carefully +for Miss Burnett, then shut it behind them as carefully. + +Wilbur knew that he was outwardly calm. Inside, he was filled with +amazement at himself. Never had he thought to see the day when he would +stand up to Pete Bellows. Now he had not only done it, he had got away +with it! He took Miss Burnett's elbow. She was looking at him rather +queerly, he thought. + +"What's the matter?" + +"I just noticed the strangest thing about you," she said. "You're the +first person I've ever seen who had different colored eyes!" + +Wilbur gasped. His knees felt weak, and out of the past he heard a +creaky voice say, "... I can't tell them apart." Now he understood that +_Arthur's_ right eye had been the last ingredient in the _Elixir of +Fortitude_! + +Wilbur smiled. There was nothing to be angry about. He certainly hadn't +got the worst of the bargain! His shoulders were squared as he helped +Miss Burnett into the elevator car. + +"Let's go, Jean," Wilbur said. + + + [Transcriber's Corrections + + Changed "widow" to "window" (A fat grey cat sunned itself on the + window ledge) + + Removed extra "and" (He picked up the glass ball again and + Wilbur felt himself grow faint) + + Changed "is it" to "it is" ("Excalibur it is called," Merlin said.) + + Changed "face" to "fact" (In fact, there was no card at all!) + + Changed "handkershief" to "handkerchief" (Wilbur pulled out his + handkerchief and wiped his right eye) + + Removed extraneous doublequote at the end of the sentence (Arthur's + right eye had been the last ingredient in the Elixir of Fortitude!)] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eye of Wilbur Mook, by H. B. Hickey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EYE OF WILBUR MOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 33047.txt or 33047.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/4/33047/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Karina Aleksandrova and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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