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Show Carlson Ferguson Lives 16 in the dark. Butch is so happy that every once in a while he mutters, "Old Ferguson!" and pushes Fenn into one of the holes. But when Fenn joins us by the old Studebaker, Butch says, "Here, Bozo, you get the honors; you fought for them." And Butch taps a hole in the windshield and hands Fenn the hammer. "Ventilate each window," he whispers. "This particular Studebaker will bake no more alligators." Fenn moves around the car, his head up close tapping the windows one at a time. For a guy who can't see, he does a neat job. Then Butch comes running from somewhere behind me, and in three steps he is standing on the roof of the old car pouring gasoline through all the newly opened spaces. He drops the can through the windshield, and then he drops to the ground beside me. Butch grins: "Any questions?" He shows us his matches. "He loves that car." "He does love that car," Butch nods, still grinning. "We're going to get in trouble for this one." "Yep, " Butch says definitely. "At least I am. But old Budd is in trouble now. With me. He can come home and put out a fire and then it will be my turn. Then Ferguson can grow up, secretly, bigger than Tiny, and bit^my father's head off some night and I'll be free." He laughs and adds: "These things are, of course, in the future." We slip back and hide in the weeds, their smell like danger, and Fenn says: "Budd's going to kill you for this." "Kill me?" Butch laughs; his eyes vanish and he rocks back and forth happily. He takes ray shoulder for balance, and I see he is still |