The two boys parked their bikes at the gate, went up to the front door, and rang the bell. A short, heavy man opened the door. They asked for Mr. Harris.
“Boys!” called Mr. Harris himself from just behind the stocky man. “It’s all right, Sanders, I know the boys. Come in! This is a pleasure. I hardly expected you here so soon. Have you come to join our League?”
The short man, Sanders, who was obviously an employee of Mr. Harris’s, went back to work on a pile of boxes in the dim entrance hall. Jupiter hastily explained that they had not come to become vegetarians.
“Er, no sir, we didn’t come to join. We want to talk to you.”
“Talk? Well, let’s go into my office. Watch your step, we’ve hardly settled in here yet. I do wish you were here to join us. We need all the help we can get. Everything has to be done by myself, and my two most devoted assistants.”
The boys picked their way through the jumble of boxes, hooks, filing cabinets and stacks of pamphlets. Mr. Harris ushered them through a heavy oak door and into a large, sunny room set up as an office. As he sat down behind an ancient desk, he waved the boys to chairs.
“Now, what’s on your minds?”
Jupiter explained, “We heard about the attack on you, sir.”
“Ah, yes, the crazy chap simply jumped on me. There were two of them, but only one actually attacked me. I was on the platform giving a brief talk. I defended myself, of course, and the audience began calling for the police, so the two men ran off.”
“Why did they attack you, sir?” Bob asked.
“I simply don’t know.”
“Did they say anything?” Jupiter queried.
“Not in English. The rascal shouted a great deal, but it was all gibberish to me. I tried to capture him, but he eluded me. Both men were gone before the police arrived. I assume they were some fanatics who hate vegetarians. We’ve had to face that kind of ignorant prejudice many times. People often hate someone just because he is different from them, I’m afraid.”
“I know that, sir,” Jupiter said, “but I don’t think those men were against you because you were a vegetarian.”
Mr. Harris looked startled. “No? Then why did they attack me? Do you mean that you have some theory about it?”
“We sure do!” Bob said firmly. “We know… ”
Bob stopped, suddenly aware of a faint sound somewhere in the office. Mr. Harris heard it, too, and began to look around with a puzzled frown. It was a very low
They ran across the road and reached the first steep slope of the low mountains that ringed Rocky Beach. With Bob ahead, and Jupiter puffing behind him, they crashed their way up through the stiff, dry brushwood. The hard, thick, grey brush tore at their clothes. Behind them, they could hear the two dark men giving chase.
“What are they shouting?” Bob panted.
“I don’t know,” Jupiter cried. “I don’t understand any of it! Just keep running!”
“Can we outrun them?”
“I… hope… so.”
t the top of the first steep slope, they reached an old dirt road. They had gained on their pursuers. Out of sight for a moment, they turned and ran along the dirt road. They were running away from Rocky Beach, the Vegetarian League house, and their bikes, but there was no other way they could go. So they pounded along the dirt road looking for a way to escape.
“Oh, no!” Bob suddenly exclaimed.
The dirt road ended in a deep ravine. There had once been a bridge, but it was gone, and the steep sides were much too dangerous to climb down. The boys stopped in dismay.
“The bridge washed out in a flood!” Bob cried.
“Up the hill!” Jupiter pointed.
They began to climb up the slope of the mountain that towered hot and dusty above Rocky Beach. Below, they heard shouts. The two men had seen them and were pointing upwards. While the boys were still looking back, their pursuers began to climb the slope with amazing speed and skill.
“They’re gaining, Jupe!” Bob said.
“Keep climbing!”
They climbed and crawled upwards in the blazing sun on the scorching slope. Their hands were bleeding from the sharp, iron-hard brushwood. At last they reached a high shoulder of the mountain. Jupiter dropped, panting, to the dirt. Bob looked back down.
“They’re still coming!”
Jupiter groaned weakly. “Let them come. I’m dying.”
Bob shaded his eyes. “We’re faster runners, but they can climb better. They climb like goats. Hey, maybe they’re two of those Yaquali! The Devils of the Cliffs.”
Jupiter struggled up, revived by the prospect of seeing two Yaquali. “Maybe they’re speaking Yaquali. No wonder we can’t understand them.”
“I don’t care if they’re speaking Eskimo,” Bob declared. “How do we get away? Do you suppose Mr. Harris saw them chasing us?”
“I doubt it,” Jupiter said, peering across the distance. “Everything is quiet around the house.”
“If we could only get back to our bikes!”
“We can’t. They’ve cut us off. We’ll just have to keep running.”
“Where?” Bob said in despair, looking round the barren. scorched shoulder of the mountain. Then his eyes lit up. “Jupe, come on! I know where we are now. I think there’s a way to get away.”
Bob started running along the shoulder that curved round the mountain. Jupiter puffed along behind; once more they were momentarily out of sight of their pursuers. Some fifty yards away, round the corner of the mountain, Bob ran straight for a thick. dense growth of twisted live oaks and the impenetrable brushwood.