CHAPTER TWELVE

                 I stepped off the porch, limped out into the street and stopped to listen. The town was as quiet as a tomb. While my ankle still hurt and had become stiff but at least I could walk on it without getting a sharp shot of pain with each step. The night seemed to have changed as there was a lot less moisture in the air, the wind had stopped blowing and it even seemed to be a bit warmer. I looked up to see if I could see any stars. but it was still overcast. There seemed to be a bit more light in the sky than when I escaped because I could now make out the shape of houses and trees along the street. I heard the lock on Maggie's door click behind me.

                 I walked along the middle of the street to the end of the block, stopped to listen again and crossed the intersection. I could see the dark bulk of two cars parked in front of a house. I ran my hand along the side of the first one until I felt the door handle. I tried to turn it but it was locked. I moved to the next car, turned the handle and the door opened with a rusty creak. I felt around on the dash for the ignition switch but could not find it. Just as I was about to give up, I realized that it was an old model Ford with the ignition key on the side of the steering column. There was a key in the switch and it turned easily. I slid into the driver's seat, pushed the switch lever forward, depressed the clutch pedal and felt around on the dash for the starter button. I pressed it but nothing happened. Evidently, the battery was either dead or missing. There was no hope here so I stepped out, turned the handle and closed the door to the first notch to keep from making any noise.

                 In the next block, I came to a pickup truck and as I reached to open the door, I heard a chain rattle beside the house and the deep growl of a dog. I froze in my tracks and waited. If he came after me, I could probably avoid him by climbing on top of the cab but then he would have me trapped. Once a dog has something up a tree, so to speak, they will stay with it for hours. The dog growled again and began to bark. From inside the house a gruff voice shouted, "Shaddup, you damn mutt."

                 The dog stopped barking but continued to growl softly. I knew that if I opened the door on the pickup or did anything else, it would set him to barking again. With the dog's owner already awake, the best thing to do was slip quietly away. I figured that it was time for me to give up trying to become a car thief and limped on toward the east edge of town. My ankle still hurt but it did seem to be getting better with a little use.

                 When I could no longer see houses on either side of the street, I had to pick my way carefully as I didn't want to tumble into a ditch or something worse. The surface beneath my feet changed from gravel to grass and I knew that I had not only reached the end of town, but also the end of that street. I would have to turn one way or the other and the only direction which I knew would take me to the airport also led back to the main street. I hadn't heard anything or seen any cars since leaving Maggie's place, but in light of what she had said about the sheriff and his special deputies, I was sure that they hadn't given up looking for me. Perhaps they were going to wait until daylight to renew their search.

                 Just as I turned to my left toward the main street, I heard a new sound coming from the direction of the courthouse. It sounded like dogs. The frightening thing was that those dogs weren't barking, they were baying in the same way that bloodhounds do when they are hot on the scent of an animal. These people were really serious about finding me if they had gone to the trouble of bringing out the dogs to track me down. I wondered how the dogs had picked up my scent, but then I remembered having dropped my handkerchief on the bed in the jail. What better than a sweaty handkerchief to give the dogs a good scent to work from.

                 This situation was really getting serious, I had to get some distance between me and those dogs and had to do it in a hurry. I started out down the street, half walking and half trotting. I hadn't gone more than a block when a dog came charging out from behind a house, barking and raising a real ruckus. I could tell from his bark that he wasn't a very large dog and could probably do me no real harm, but if he kept it up very long, he was bound to attract attention. I decided that the best thing to do was to continue walking as fast as possible and he would probably stop barking once I had left his territory.

                 I was wrong. That mangy little mutt kept right at my heels, barking and yapping away for two blocks until I got to the Studebaker place. If I didn't get rid of that little noise maker, the men with the bloodhounds would probably hear him and come directly there after me. There was a single bare bulb burning above the door to the shop. It was dim and coated with dirt but it furnished enough illumination for me to find a rock. It was a lucky throw as the rock whapped the little mutt in the side and he went yelping for home. There were two cars parked outside of the building and I checked each one for keys. Neither of them was locked, but there was no keys in them either. I considered the possibility of trying to hot wire one of them but decided that it would take too much time and since it was parked outside of a garage, it probably wouldn't run anyway.

                 I tried to remember all of the old movies that I had seen in which escaped prisoners were running from bloodhounds and how they threw them off their trail. Most of the things that I could remember were either too ridiculous to work or else didn't and the gangsters were captured in the end. I thought about the old trick of wading in a creek, but there certainly wasn't any water around. Then I remembered where an escaped prisoner took some ammonia with him and sprinkled it on the ground as he ran. When the dogs got a snootful of the ammonia, they couldn't smell anything and he got away. The only problem was the fact that I had no ammonia and there was little chance of my finding any.

                 I could hear the dogs baying, but they were still a long way off. It was difficult to tell just where they were because it seemed that every other dog in town had added their voices to the night. Since I had already walked around and left my scent at the Studebaker place, I might as well try to confuse them as much as possible. I walked all the way around the building, stopping at each door and rubbing my hand on the knob. There was a ladder leaning against the back of the building so I scuffed my feet around it and rubbed my hands over the rungs. The more places they had to search, the more time I would have to escape.

            Just as I was about to leave, I noticed a bucket of old engine oil beside the garage door. It wasn't ammonia, but might just do the trick and kill my scent enough to make then lose the trail. I picked up the bucket and retraced my steps about a hundred feet back up the street in the direction from which I came. Then I took three or four very long steps to the opposite side of the road, pouring oil on each spot where I had put my foot down. Perhaps the dogs would miss where I left the trail and would have to spend a lot of time sniffing around the building. I was buying time and time was what I needed.                

                 I tossed the empty bucket as far away as I could, turned east on the paved road toward the airport and began walking as rapidly as my sprained ankle would allow. I knew better than to try to run, even if I could have. Running would tire only me out, making it easy for the dogs to overtake me. Even with a sprained ankle, I knew that I could walk much further than I could ever run or jog.

                 I paused for a second to catch my breath and listen to the dogs which were still well behind me. Suddenly, they stopped baying and began to bark with excitement, the way that dogs do when they run something up a tree. Then it struck me, they had probably followed my trail to Maggie's house and thinking that I was inside, were barking at her door. The sheriff was bound to know that I had been there and that she had helped me. Considering what she had said about how vicious he is, there was no telling what he might do to her. After all, in light of the fact that she got the house when she divorced him, she was probably not one of his favorite people. I wondered if he would actually arrest her for helping me escape. She had been so nice to me and I sincerely hoped that she wouldn't get into trouble.

                 I saw the headlights of a car turn into the street at the west end of town and head in my direction, so I began to search for a place to hide. There were no houses or bridges around and the only cover that I could find was some weeds in the ditch beside the road. They weren't more than a foot high, but by lying still in them, a person driving by at night might not notice. I pulled off my backpack in order to get as low as possible and flattened myself in the weeds. I lay there for quite a while but the car never passed. When I finally raised my head for a look, there was nothing in sight. I had lost a lot of time that I could have used to put distance between me and the dogs. I had also learned a lesson. The next time that I had to hide, I would lie down facing toward the oncoming car so I could see if it turned off or not.      

                 I could hear that the dogs baying again, indicating that they had left Maggie's place and were back on my trail. From the location of their sound, I estimated that they would soon reach the street which led to the Studebaker place. I had only about a quarter mile lead on them.

                 I had taken only a few steps when the odor of cigarette smoke wafted by. I froze in my tracks because as strong as it was, it couldn't have come from very far away. I strained my eyes and ears and then I saw a red glow become brighter as someone took another puff. Then I made out the dark shape of a car parked on the shoulder of the road no more than twenty yards away ahead of me. The sheriff must have set up a roadblock on all the roads leading out of town and I had almost stumbled into one of them in the dark. As I watched, another glow appeared beside the first one; there must be at least two people there.

                 Then I heard someone in the car say, "I think that sitting out here in the middle of the road is nothing but a wild goose chase. Melvin said that people in a flying saucer would pick him up and I'll bet that he is already long gone."

                 "That certainly wasn't a wild goose that you were chasing me with a few minutes ago," came a woman's voice with a laugh.

                 "It may not have been a goose, but you'll have to admit that it was plenty wild. I'll bet that your old man would have a fit if he knew that you were getting a little while he was out of town."

                 "He'd have a fit if he thought that I was getting a little anywhere; you know how some husbands are about things like that. Turn on the switch so we can play the radio," she said. A few seconds later, I heard music.

                 It was easy to see why they hadn't heard me approaching; they were occupied in other ways, but I still had to pass by them some way. The railroad ran parallel to the highway and I didn't remember seeing a fence between them as I had walked to town. Feeling my way in the darkness with each step, I moved carefully off the road toward the tracks.                              

                 The baying of the dogs was now much louder and I looked back toward town. I could see the lights of several vehicles on the road leading toward the Studebaker place. I could clearly make out two men with dogs on leashes in the beams of their headlights. At the rate that they were traveling and with the roadblock ahead, it wouldn't be very long before they would catch up with me. I had to do something and do it mighty fast.

                 I worked my way down into a ditch and up the other side, then I felt crushed rock under my feet. Two steps later, my foot struck a rail. I stepped between the rails and began to walk as fast as possible in the dark. I looked back and could see that the men and dogs had reached the Studebaker place and were searching around it for me. All sorts of possibilities ran through my mind. Perhaps I had been able to throw them off my trail with the motor oil or else they would think that I had stolen a car and gotten away.

                 It is hard enough to walk on cross ties in the daylight, but doing it in the dark without tripping is really difficult, but I kept moving as fast as I could. I had traveled what I estimated to be a hundred yards when I heard the car which had been blocking the road start its engine and saw the headlights come on. It drove up to where the other cars were parked around the Studebaker place. Since the people blocking the road had returned and the dogs hadn't picked up my trail again, they might decide that I had escaped for good and give up. I crossed the ditch back to the road where it would be easier walking.

                 I continued on toward the airport, stopping every minute or so to look back and listen to see if the dogs sounded as if they were on my trail again. They seemed to still be involved around the Studebaker place and perhaps all of those people milling around would cover my trail to the point that the dogs would never be able to pick it up again.

                 I was now getting well ahead of the dogs and almost to the airport when I saw a dark bulk off to the right of the road. I realized that it was the abandoned farm house that I had seen as I had walked to town. It was only a short distance from the airport and would be a good place for me to hide and rest until it was light enough to see. It was still so dark that it was impossible to see the horizon and if I attempted to take off now, I might either climb into the clouds or else fly right into the ground. There certainly wasn't any lights or instruments on the airplane to help me.

                 I felt my way along until I came to the porch, then through the open door. It was pitch dark inside the house so I felt around in my back pack for shaving kit where I kept a small flashlight. While I was at it, I checked the time on the travel alarm clock and dropped it into my pocket. It was a little past three, another hour and a half or two before it would be light enough to see.

                 I covered the lens on the flashlight with my fingers to let out just enough light to allow me to see what was in the place. Other than an old couch against one wall, the living room was empty. There was an ancient wood-burning stove in the kitchen, along with a pile of trash in one corner. The other two rooms on the lower floor contained nothing except some old clothing scattered about.

                 A flight of stairs led from the living room to the floor above where two bedrooms were located. There was a row of low trees between the house and town so I climbed to the second floor where I would have a better view of what my pursuers were doing. There was an old bed with open springs and a cotton mattress in one of the bedrooms, along with several empty beer bottles. I also noted several used condoms scattered about on the floor. Evidently, this old house was a favored place for teenagers to indulge themselves. In the other room was a chair with a broken back and an old dresser without any drawers.

                 From the window on the west side, I could see the lights of cars around the Studebaker place and an occasional flick of a flashlight indicated that someone was on the roof. Perhaps they had bought my trick and thought that I had somehow gotten inside the building. I wished that I had taken Melvin's pistol when I left the jail. If I had, they would know that I was armed and would have to be far more careful when searching for me. If they were forced to be careful during their search, it would have given me more time. I sat down on the window sill where I could keep an eye on what was going on in town and wait for daylight to arrive.

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