ring
away a beech limb the storm left in the abandoned paddock--and strolled
to greet Ringmaster A. Oswell.

"Stonecypher!" the ringmaster announced. "That storm almost caught us!"
Oswell's stainless steel teeth clacked, and the breezes trailing the
thunderclouds ballooned his orange silk kimono. "I never liked these
butterfliers. They're too slow, and that swooping motion! Five hundred
miles per hour may seem fast to a man your age; but in my day, back
before petroleum was classified as armament, we had jets! Real speed!"

"Come on up to the house, ringmaster," Stonecypher invited. "I'll mix up
some dextrose and citric acid."

"No, no time," the fat man panted. "Only time to see you about that bull
you sold me. The storm took a limb of your beech tree! Almost the only
one left, I suppose. About that bull, Stonecypher, you know I was a bit
hesitant when I bought him, but my driver talked me into it. I'm so
disappointed I had him drafted immediately!"

"But, what--" Stonecypher attempted to ask.

"The young woman there in the butterflier is a much better driver and
pilot," Oswell babbled. "I wouldn't have believed it of a woman! She
weighs a good ninety-eight pounds, too! That bull--he has changed
completely since we put him under the stands. He eats well, but he shows
no spirit at all. Tomorrow is the big day, Stonecypher! I can't
disappoint the crowd! I thought he might be sick, but the vet says not.
That bull let the vet come into the cage and made absolutely no attempt
to kill him!"

"But does Fergus--"

"Fergus's manager saw the bull! He's all for it. Fergus made an
extremely poor showing on Memorial Day, and the manager thinks this odd
bull would provide a real comeback! I advised against it. This heat is
terrible! The storm didn't cool the air at all."

Stonecypher maneuvered the perspiring ringmaster into the shade of the
beech. He said, "I wanta do the fair thing with you, ringmaster, so I'll
give you a guarantee, in writing if you want. If that bull's not the
bravest ever fought in Highland Bullring, I give you double-money-back."

Oswell's face wobbled in a tentative smile. He counted his stubby
fingers. "Double-money-back?"

"Yeah. I wanta get into the business. My grandfather used to sell bulls.
Then my father came along, and he wouldn't sell a one."

"Yes. Yes, I once tried to reason with him, but--"

"He had funny ideas," Stonecypher pressed his advantage. "I never did
understand the old man