The Writers' Circle

It was a brisk fall afternoon in the small town of Buffalo, South Carolina, when eleven-year old Ricky Thompson set out to go fishing in Mr. Gunnar's pond. The leaves crunched under his red tennis shoes as he walked down the trail leading to his neighbor's home, and his Jack Russell Terrier bounded down the path behind him, happily following his master. Ricky couldn't wait to try his new fishing pole that he and his grandpa had made together; and he was already looking forward to bringing his mama back some big fish for supper. 
As he made his way down the dusty path, he slowly began to see the large pond stretched across the ground in the distance, shining like bronze in the afternoon sun. The boy smiled, quickened his steps, and whistled at his little Terrier so that the dog would hurry up as well. The dog barked in response and ran to Ricky, loyally walking by the boy's side as they made their way towards their destination; but as they drew closer to the woods that lined the water's northern edge, something moving among the grass caught the Terrier's eye. The little dog started wagging his tail in excitement and began barking, as though to challenge the creature stirring among the grass; but as the small rabbit popped its head out to take a look at his surroundings, the little Terrier took off after it. Ricky quickly turned and started shouting at his dog to come back, but as the two animals bounded into the woods, the boy dropped his belongings and took off after them. As he ran into the woods, he saw his terrier disappear behind the trees, but no matter how much Ricky whistled or called, the little dog would not come back. 
	Ricky sighed and slowed his steps as he made his way deeper into the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of his runaway dog. He continued to look among the trees for another half hour, but he finally concluded that he had lost his little friend and so turned to start heading back to where he had left his fishing supplies. But as he shifted to his right, something caught his attention, and as he looked he thought he saw a small white tail wagging among some brush just a few yards away from him. Hopeful, Ricky jogged over to the small clump of bushes, pushed them aside, and fell into a deep hole as he took a step forward. As he hit the bottom, he felt sticks and leaves hitting him across the back, and when he looked to his side, he could see them falling all around him. Startled, he remained sitting in the hole for a moment; but then he slowly stood and rubbed his knees on which he had fallen upon and looked up. As he looked, a small black and white puppy stuck its head out over the edge of the gaping hole, barking at him; and Ricky was filled with disappointment when he realized that the little dog was not his. 
Looking up and trying to decide how he was going to get out, Ricky saw a young boy walk up behind the puppy and he began laughing when he saw Ricky in the hole. 
"That hole ain't fer you tu fall in there, fella," the little boy explained. "It's fer some wolf or the likes of 'im. Hid it real good though, don't I?" 
Looking down and rubbing some of the dirt out of his eyes, Ricky asked, "Hid what real good?" 
"The hole, of course! Put them there leaves and sticks all 'cross it. Thing is, though, now I's got tu do it all over 'gin."
The boy frowned at the prospect. 
"Can you help me get out of here, please?" Ricky asked, looking up at the younger boy. 
"Course I can," he replied, but the boy continued standing there, examining the damage done and seeming to contemplate on how to properly camouflage the opening once again. Ricky sat there for a moment, trying to be patient, but finally said,
"Well, then, could you get me out?"
"Sure thing," the boy said; but he continued to just stand there. 
Ricky rolled his eyes and said, "Right now?" 
"Yep." 
An entire minute went by, but still the boy continued to stand there, looking thoughtfully down at the hole in the ground. Irritated, Ricky said, in not too nice of a tone, 
"Why aren't you getting me out? I've asked twice already."
"Cause you didn't say please."
Ricky sighed and said, "Would you please help me to get out of this hole right now?"
The boy smiled, showing several gaps where he had lost some teeth, and then nodded and took a few steps back so that Ricky could no longer see him standing up above him; but the young boy quickly turned back into view, holding a rope in his hand. Tying one end of the rope to a nearby tree, he threw the other end down towards Ricky, allowing him to climb out of his muddy prison. 
	As Ricky reached the top, he stood up at the edge of the hole and brushed the dirt from his clothes as best as he could, thanked the young boy, and began to walk away; but the boy quickly ran up to him, trying to block his way. 
"What do you want?" Ricky asked, folding his arms and looking down at the sandy-haired boy.
"You's got tu help me."
Ricky looked at him and asked, "Help you with what?"
"Cover thet there opening up- that's what." 
"You mean, I've got to help you cover up the hole?"
The boy grinned his crooked smile again and said, "Yup- that there's right. You did the hurt, and so you's can at least help fix it up." The boy looked at Ricky, giving him a pleading look, hoping to convince him to lend a hand. Ricky sighed, turned around, and began walking back towards the large hole. 
"Oh, alright," he said over his shoulder. 
The boy happily ran and placed himself in front of Ricky again and stuck out his hand. "My name's Alfalfa. But you's cin call me Alfy, though. That's wut my folks call me."
Ricky slowly shook the outstretched hand and asked, "Alfalfa? What kind of name is that? How'd your parents even come up with that kind of name?"
"Aw, thet's wut my Pa wuz a-growin' in 'is fields when I's born. That's how all us kids got our names. I's got two sis's and theirs names is Plum and Cotton, though we's call 'er Connie; and my three brothers' names are Cornfield, Tomater, and Green Bean- but they go by the names of Conner, Tom, and Ben. My Pa's a real intrestin' kind of feller." Alfy wrinkled up his nose and grinned with the last statement and then turned towards the hole. Ricky stood where he was for a moment, examining the queer young boy. Alfy's messy hair fell over his dirty, freckled face as he bent to pick up the sticks lying on the ground; and his overalls, patched so many times that they seemed to be made up of scraps of cloth sewn together, kept slipping off of his tan shoulders. 
Ricky took a few steps forward and began helping to pick up the materials needed to cover the hole back up. 
"Well my name is Ricky- Ricky Thompson."
Alfy turned and shook his hand again, as though it was required after learning a person's name, and then set off to working, whistling a jolly tune. 
	With the two of them working together, they were finished within the hour and as Ricky turned to leave, Alfy stopped him once again, offering him some lemonade; but Ricky shook his head, explaining that he had only gone into the woods to find his dog and now he really should head back out before his neighbor got worried. Hearing this, Alfy jumped up from where he was sitting and ran over to Ricky, saying, "You's lost yer dawg? Wut a shame! I'd hate to lose my lil pup." He dropped his head and shook it in sorrow, but he quickly looked back up said, "Hey, how's bout me and my lil dawg help you find yours dawg? Pup's a great tracker- trained 'im my ownself!" The boy seemed brightened by the prospect, but Ricky was sure that the little puppy in front of him had no idea how to track anything and that if he was to follow Alfy around- they would all probably end up lost. 
"Thanks, but I think I should just head on," replied Ricky. 
Nodding his head, Alfy frowned and grabbed Ricky's sleeve and tugged. "Come on! It can't hurt nothin.' Sides, what in tarnation ya goin' to do without yer lil ol' dawg?" 
Ricky shrugged his shoulders and Alfy grinned, whistled to his little puppy, and set off through the woods. Ricky sighed and took off after them, hoping he would be able to find his way back home. 
	They had been walking through the woods for nearly half an hour when Alfy finally told Ricky where they were headed.  
"O- didn't tell ya where's we a goin,' did I?" Alfy looked over at Ricky, and when he saw him nod his head no, he continued. "Well, this here's my plan: I's got a good place tu look fer yer dawg. Man who goes by the name of - of;" Alfy's face twisted in concentration as he tried to get the correct pronunciation of the man's name out of his mouth; and after several tries he figured out how to say it and so continued, "Yea- that's it. His name's Bernard Gilford- but we's all call 'im Bob; lots shorter and easier to say."
He took a few more steps and then stopped and said, pointing, "Come on! He lives right over in this here direction; should get there in no time 'tall. He knows 'bout all sorts of stuff." 
Excited, Alfy quickened his steps and continued to describe the man they were going to visit as they made their way towards his home. 
After having crossed the same creek twice and making some bizarre turns that seemed to put them back where they had started, Ricky started wondering if Alfy really knew where he was going, or was just making it up as they went along; but as they climbed on top of a few large boulders, Ricky saw a magnificent house sitting on top of a hill not far from where they were. He heard Alfy sigh beside him and as Ricky looked his way, Alfy said, "Nice house ain't it? Sure wish I'd could live in somethin' the likes of that." Alfy stood where he was, staring off into the distance, and Ricky guessed the other boy was imagining what it would be like for his family to live in such grandeur; but Alfy soon shook himself, as though trying to clear his head, looked over at Ricky and smiled. "I reckon I's got a roof over my head and a good family and that there's all that matters, right?" Ricky nodded in agreement and Alfy winked and began heading towards the house. Ricky carefully climbed down his perch on the rocks and followed the younger boy down the overgrown path. 
	As they approached the large home, Ricky was astounded by the wealth it obviously took to own such a place. The cobblestone path leading up the rolling hill gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the trees and the three-story house seemed to intimidate even the largest of trees surrounding it; but Alfy remained undeterred and happily skipped up to the front door and knocked; and just as he had returned his hand to his side, a man who appeared to be in his early sixties swung the door open, blowing a surge of air into the two boys' faces. Alfy's cheeks dimpled as he grinned up at the man and then he quickly walked into the house uninvited, waving to Ricky to follow. 
Ricky entered the living room with a sense of awe as he examined his surroundings and was astonished by the great wealth and beauty contained in the single room. There were two large leather couches that gleamed in the light from the chandelier above and a recliner sat across from a beautifully handcrafted fireplace. The crystal clear windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and their intricate designs painted a stream of rainbows upon the floor below them. 
Ricky gingerly stepped off of the pure white marble floor that had been in the entrance way and set his old red sneaker upon the man's velvet carpet that covered the living room floor.  He slowly and carefully made his way through the room and then sat down next to Alfy on the plush leather sofa that was near the jewel-embedded coffee table. The wealthy man came into the living room soon after, a broad smile on his face and carrying a platter of cookies. Ricky looked the man up and down as he settled into his recliner. The man was extremely short, barely going up to Ricky's eleven-year-old shoulders, but he was very large around; his finely made silken clothes were too tight for him, as many of the golden buttons on his jacket appeared as though they were about to pop off, and his well-polished shoes looked too large for his feet; but all the same, he seemed friendly. 
Alfy grabbed for a cookie, and as he took a bite, he started explaining to the older man why they had come to his house for a visit. His words were slightly muffled by the cookie he had stuffed into his mouth, but Ricky was still able to make out part of what he was saying.
 "You see, Mr. Bob, this here boy has lost 'is lil dawg- which is quite a shame. I'd be right sorrowful to lose Pup. But since you's the one to know 'bout everythin'- I's wuz a-thinkin' that you might know where's tu look for 'is dawg." 
The man watched Alfy contentedly as the boy animatedly explained their dilemma, but as he finished, the man merely shook his head. Alfy frowned.  
"You's mean tu tell me you don't know where the dawg is? Well that's downright unheard of, Mr. Bob. You's seem to always know what to be done!"
The man shook his head again, and Alfy brightened, bobbing up and down on the sofa and throwing cookie crumbs everywhere. 
"You's do know wut to do? I knew you would, Mr. Bob. You's always do! Thet there's why we came here, ain't it, Ricky?" 
"Yea- it is."
	Besides agreeing with Alfy every now and again, Ricky just sat in his seat, quietly munching on a sugar cookie and watching the exchange taking place in front of him. Every time the small man would move his head in a particular way, Alfy would somehow decipher a message from it. Ricky was sure they had both lost their minds.
"You's quite right, Mr. Bob!" Alfy exclaimed after the man had very enthusiastically moved his head side to side, and then down. "Quite right, fer sure! I's go an' see that there Mr. Kent Braxton. He ought to know wut's to do. Thank you Mr. Bob, thank you!" Alfy jumped up and ran over to the man, grabbing his hand and vigorously shaking it while thanking him for his help. Alfy released the man's hand and stood in front of Mr. Bob's recliner, exchanging a few more words in the same odd manner, and then turned and headed for the door. When he reached the doorway, he turned around and motion to Ricky saying, "Well, come on Ricky! We's got a dawg to find!" 
	Ricky stood and thanked Mr. Bob as he walked by him and then followed Alfy out of the beautiful house. As he closed the silver laden door behind him, Ricky looked up and saw that Alfy had already made his way down the path, and so he jogged down the trail to catch up with the younger boy. As Ricky slowed down and began walking next to the Alfy, he asked, 
"Can he not talk at all?"
"Mr. Bob? Naw- he ain't much of a talkin' type. That's 'nother reason we call 'im Mr. Bob. Only way's he'll talk to ya is by a bobbin' 'is head. But ain't he a great sorta fella?" Alfy looked over at Ricky and then said, with a bit of concern, "You sure didn't talk much, either." Looking Ricky up and down he said, "Guess you jest the quiet type, too." 
Ricky shrugged his shoulders.
"So where exactly are we supposedly heading to?"
"Tu Mr. Kent's. He's a nice ol' man." 
	As they rounded the bend, a small wooden house came into sight. The little one roomed home looked as though it would fall apart if the wind blew too hard, and the grass that surrounded it had grown so tall that the blades reached up to its windows. The shed connected to the back of the house wreaked of animal manure and filth so that Ricky held his nose as they neared the building. Alfy didn't seem to notice the smell, though, and just made his way into the house and announced, "It's me Mr. Kent. It's Alfy!" 
Ricky walked up the stairs and stepped inside the doorway and was horrified to see Alfy right by the old man's ear, yelling at the top of his lungs,
 "How's you doin' Mr. Kent?" 
Ricky ran to the boy's side and pulled him away. 
"What are you doing yelling at him like that?" Ricky asked in a reprimanding voice.
"I ain't yellin' at 'im," Alfy said, wrinkling his brow and placing his hands on his hips.  "Only way to get the ol' man tu hear ya. He can't hear hardly 'tall no more." 
Ricky watched as Alfy turned from him and went back to the old man's rocker, yelling in his ear about how good it was to see him again. The skinny old man smiled, revealing he had no teeth, and then said something to Alfy that Ricky was not able to hear. 
"Oh, this here's my friend Ricky!" Alfy yelled in response to what the man had said. 
"Itchy?" the old man asked. 
"No, no- Ricky, Mr. Kent!"
The old man smiled again, tobacco juice coming out of his toothless mouth, and motioned for Ricky to move closer. Ricky tried to hide his disgust as he neared the man. As he drew closer, Mr. Kent said, 
"So, Vicki, Alfy tells me yer a-lookin' fer yer hog. I'm sorry tu be a-hearin' you've lost 'im. A hog's a prized animal round these 'ere parts." 
Alfy shook his head and bent over the man, yelling again, "Not hog, Mr. Kent. He lost 'is own dawg; D-A-W-G. His dawg!"
The old man made a confused face at Alfy and then looked down at his hands. He started whispering something, and Ricky leaned in a little to try to catch what he was saying. 
"Did he say, dog, Kent? I ain't sure. Did 'e say thet there boy lost 'is dog or 'is log?"
"I ain't sure ol' friend what'd 'e say," the old man quietly said, talking to himself. "Why'd a boy 'ave a log?" 
The man continued looking down, having a conversation with himself about what the boys had lost, and Ricky looked over at Alfy, concerned. Alfy came to Ricky's side and said, "He talks to 'imself all the time. Guess it's 'cause he's been alone by himself so much. So nothin' tu worry bout." Ricky wasn't so sure, but decided to leave the old man alone. 
Finally, Mr. Kent looked up, winked at Ricky, and then motioned for him to move closer so that he could hear the boy speaking. 
"So you've lost yer dog. What's 'is name?" 
Ricky answered, but the old man obviously had not heard, so Ricky bent over to his ear and yelled, 
"Cricket!" 
"Cricket?" the old man asked confused. "I thought you were a-lookin' fer ya dog; you'll 'ave to excuse me. My 'earin's getting' worse all the time." 
The old man shook his head and started to talking to himself again. "Cricket? First 'e lost 'is hog, log, or dog, now it's a cricket? He ain't no good at keepin' track of stuff."
"He sure ain't," the man agreed with himself, nodding. 
 The boys patiently waited, and after a few minutes the man grunted, shifted in his chair and then looked back up at the two boys, saying, "So, you're looking fer a cricket. Does it 'ave tu be a particular one, 'cause if'n it does, 'e'll by mighty hard tu find." 
Ricky shook his head and yelled, 
"No, he's my dog- I lost my dog! My dog's name is Cricket!" 
"Yes, yes- I know," said the man, sounding a little irritated. "I 'eard ya the first time. I might be old an' all- but I sure ain't dumb, am I old friend?" the man asked himself. He smiled and continued, "Yer lookin' fer a cricket. Now, as I jest said, it'll be hard tu find 'im unless you'll settle for any ol' cricket. But seein' 'ows you been goin' all over place tu find 'im- suppose you want tu find the right one. So, if'n it's a cricket yer a-lookin' fer I'd go over tu- tu;" the man stopped and started coughing. Alfy handed him a glass of water, and as Mr. Kent settled back comfortably into his rocker, muttering something to himself once again, Ricky took a seat on a wooden stool across from the old man. Alfy sat on the floor and looked up at Mr. Kent, waiting for him to start back again. Ricky was getting restless, but Alfy appeared as though he could have sat there and waited all day.
After what seemed like an eternity to Ricky, the old man began again and said, "So, you's a-lookin' fer a cricket? If'n it's a got tu be a certain one, that lil' ol' bug will be 'ard tu find. So's I's a thinkin' fer you tu go over tu Mr. Ackerman's. He ought tu know wut to be done. He's a real smart man, though 'e can be strange at times- so you youngun's be careful, ya hear?" 
Alfy smiled and nodded, but Ricky just rolled his eyes. Who could be weirder than the two men he had already met that day and a boy who befriended such strange people? 
"Good!" the man exclaimed, obviously pleased. "Well then, glad I could've been of service to ya. Now off ya go. Alfy, ya do know how tu get there, I reckon. Ricky, be sure tu stick with Alfy. He's a good boy. Now I'm a-sure that with all this 'elp you'll be a-findin' yer lil ol' cricket soon. So don't you go a frettin' 'bout it, ya 'ear?"
Ricky nodded and waved goodbye as he stood and then headed out of the door. He waited on the steps leading up to the house's doorway as Alfy loudly told Mr. Kent goodbye; and as the younger boy stepped outside he asked Ricky,   
"Ain't he a nice ol' feller? Had a lil' trouble getting' our plan through to 'im- but 'e finally got it," Alfy said. 
"Got it?" Ricky asked surprised. "He thinks we're looking for a cricket!" 
Alfy nodded his head. "Poor man jest can't hear a dern thing no more. But seeing Mr. Ackerman's stills a good idea. He's real smart." 
Alfy began to walk down the steps, but Ricky quickly put an arm out to stop him. 
"Look, Alfy. Thanks for all your help, but I really don't think we're going to find my dog today. Neither of the men we just visited seemed to know what to do and so I think I should probably just head home. Mr. Gunnar's probably called my parents by now and told them I'm not at his house yet- and so they'll be really worried. So thanks, but I'm just going to head on home."
Alfy gave him a disappointed look and then looked down and said, in a quiet, and slightly injured, tone, "They's did know what tu do, Ricky. They's told us where's tu go and so far we's ain't lost track of yer lil' ol' pup. Sure we ain't seen 'im- but we'll get 'im."  
Alfy looked back up at Ricky and enthusiastically said, "Yes, sir! You's can bet on that! We'll be getting' your pup back in no time 'tall! So come, on, ol' buddy. I ain't goin' tu let cha down." With that, Alfy pushed past Ricky and marched down the stairs, determination written all over his face. 
Ricky stood where he was for a minute, trying to decide whether to follow Alfy, or quietly slip away; but after quickly thinking it over he decided to follow Alfy one last time. He was not going to be able to find his dog on his own anyway, and so he would only have to hope that his parents were not worried about him. He jumped off of the stairs and headed towards Alfy. The boy turned towards Ricky and shot him a big grin when he jogged up next to Alfy, and Ricky smiled back; he was beginning to enjoy being with the unusual little boy, though he did not enjoy meeting the strange people the boy knew. 
	It only took about fifteen minutes of walking to reach Mr. Ackerman's home, though Ricky was sure they could have made it there in about half the time if they had just went straight instead of taking all of the strange twists and turns that Alfy took. As he stared down upon it from atop a hill, Ricky was able to see that it was a decently sized house, much bigger and better put together than Kent Braxton's home, but very small and plain in comparison to Bernard Gilford's house. The home sat in a small gully, surrounded by a bunch of hills, and a small stream of smoke drifted out of its brick chimney. Alfy passed Ricky and started making his way down the hill, but he suddenly tripped and rolled head over heels down the slope, stopping about a yard away from the house. Ricky carefully made his way down and then ran over to check on Alfy. 
"Are you okay?" Ricky asked, bending over the smaller boy. 
Alfy sat up and scratched his head. 
"I don't remember that being there." 
"What being where?" 
"See that there rock in that there trail right here?" 
Ricky looked to where Alfy was pointing and nodded. 
"Well's, I's never seen it before; must've sprouted up out'a the ground sometime or 'nother." 
Alfy looked up at Ricky with a frustrated look and then jumped to his feet, brushing the dirt from his already soiled overalls. He glanced back at the rock and gave it an irritated stare and then turned to the front door. As soon as he had bounded up to it, he began to furiously pound on the wooden door. 
"Isn't that a bit rude?" Ricky asked from behind him.  
"Oh, no- it ain't," Alfy said, continuing to pound on the door with both fists- and occasionally giving it a good kick. "Ya see, Mr. Ackerman's a good man- real smart man- but he's a bit scattered in the brains sometimes. He's bout all the time down in 'is basement- studyin' his bugs and what-not. So you's got tu knock real hard 'n' loud fer 'im tu even hear ya- but even then 'e don't sometimes." 
Alfy stopped, breathless, and looked at the door, as though contemplating whether or not it was going to open for him; but when no one answered, he shrugged and made his way back behind the house. As he rounded the building with Alfy, Ricky saw that there were stairs in the back yard leading down into the ground where the basement door lay. Alfy skipped over to the stairs, quickly made his way down them, and then proceeded into the house. Ricky followed, but as soon as he entered the house he could hardly see anything. The entire room was dark except for a small lamp in the far right corner and the little bit of sunlight that came in from the door he had just entered. 
"Alfy? Alfy, where are you?" Ricky quietly called into the darkness. 
He took a few careful steps forward, peering under a few chairs and a table, all the while whispering for Alfy to come out of hiding. As he turned to the left, a large hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. 
"What are ye doing here, lad? A young one your age ought to know better than to traipse into some man's 'ouse."
Ricky glanced up at the man holding his shoulder, muttering something about looking for a dog and a little boy.
"Well, now! That there makes a difference," the man said, letting go of his shoulder. "If a laddie loses 'is lil' pup, 'e ought to look for it, yes? What's a lad to do without 'is faithful companion?"  The red-headed man took a step back, smiling. 
"I didn't mean to scare ya, lad. I just don't take kindly to youngsters who think they can do whatever they please- including barging into another person's private 'ome. I truly meant nothing by it, laddie." Ricky timidly smiled at the man who now had his head tilted and was scratching his chin and looking at Ricky, saying something about how he had lost his dog when he was about thirteen. Ricky looked up at the overly tall man, quickly examining his broad shoulders and thick neck; and was amazed by the man's arms, which appeared as big as Ricky was around. 
Suddenly, a little head that came up to his chin jumped in front of Ricky, and as he looked down he saw Alfy standing there grinning up at him. Ricky cast Alfy a slightly irritated glance, but the boy quickly turned his gaze to the big man behind him. When the giant man saw who the little boy was, a large grin stretched across his face and he grabbed the boy in a large bear hug. 
"How you's a do'in Mr. Ackerman?" Alfy exclaimed. "This here's my friend Ricky," Alfy stated as the big man set him back down. 
"Lookin' fer his lil' ol' dawg. You's seen 'im? Went to Mr. Bob's and then Mr Kent's but ain't none of 'em been able to find the lil' ol' dawg. You's know's I." 
Mr. Ackerman held up his hand chuckling and said,
"Just slow down there, laddie. I'm afraid I 'aven't seen 'ide nor 'air of any lil' pup 'sides your own. But my brother might 'ave an idea as to where to find 'im." 
The man turned to Ricky and smiled. 
"So, you're a friend of Alfy's? Well any friend of 'is is a friend of mine!"
Ricky took a step back when the man stepped towards him; but Mr. Ackerman only laughed and ruffled Ricky's hair.
"You don't 'ave to be afraid of me, laddie. I might be big, but I'm friendly." He gave him a big smile and then cast his gaze back towards Alfy. 
"Well, I suppose I'll go and find my brother. Stay 'ere- I'll be right back." 
Although he truly did seem very friendly, Ricky was a little nervous around such a large man, and so he was glad when he left. When he couldn't hear the man's footsteps any longer, he turned to Alfy and asked,
"Wasn't that Mr. Ackerman?"
"Sure was." 
"Then why didn't he help us out?"
"Cause he can't," Alfy replied, as he sat down on an old couch cushion thrown on top of a pile of dusty newspapers. 
"Then why'd we come here?" Ricky asked. 
"Cause Mr. Ackerman can help us." 
Ricky stared at Alfy. 
"But you just said he can't help us." 
"He can't, but Mr. Ackerman can." 
"But you said he's Mr. Ackerman. You're making no sense at all."
But having already had some experience with Alfy's other friends, Ricky quietly sat next to the boy and turned so that he faced him, watching as Alfy carefully examined his fingernails. Ricky folded his arms and leaned back against a bookshelf sitting in the middle of the floor and tried to patiently wait for Alfy to answer. He was sure that there must be some strange explanation; there had to be; all of Alfy's friends were peculiar.  Alfy shifted his weight to get more comfortable, cleared his throat, and then said, 
 "Sure, that there was Mr. Ackerman. But he's a go'in tu get his brother, Mr. Ackerman. So Mr. Ackerman can't help us, but the other Mr. Ackerman can." 
Ricky sat where he was, propped up against the bookshelf, deciphering what Alfy had just said and then asked, sitting back up, 
"Why in the world can't you come up with two different names for them?" 
"That there'd be too confusin'. Been callin' 'em Mr. Ackerman fer years- wouldn't be right to change them there names on 'em now."
Ricky sighed and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the bookshelf once again; but before he had a chance to get comfortable, the big red-headed man walked back into the basement with a small man following behind him. 
"Here's my big brother!" The red-headed man announced with a grin. 
Ricky turned his eyes towards the man who had quietly come into the room. He didn't look like his younger brother at all. The skinny man was badly stooped over, so that his gray and sullen eyes had to look at the ground when he walked; his stringy, stark-white hair fell upon his back and shoulders and his pale and shriveled skin seemed to dangle off of his bones. He was very less intimidating than his younger brother in size and stature, but something about the way he looked made Ricky feel, to his surprise, glad that the larger man was in the room so if something were to happen. Alfy, however, grinned and ran over to the older man, giving him a hug around his waist and saying,
"We's come to ask ya fer help, Mr. Ackerman. My friend there has lost his lil' dawg and it's a downright shame tu not find 'im. Thought maybe you's could have an idea of where's tu look."
The man solemnly smiled down at Alfy and nodded his head. He gently pushed the boy to the side with the palm of his hand and then sat down on an old wooden stool next to a desk piled with books on the far back wall of the basement. Ricky could barely see him in the darkness as he began to talk. 
"Mine fathers were a sagacious generation; thus, it is to mine self that this wisdom was conveyed. My younger brother acquired strength of body, yet I achieved the force of mind. Come, young ones, rest at mine feet so that I might tell thee the locality of thy creature." 
The older Mr. Ackerman motioned for them to come towards him, and as they settled down near the desk at which he sat, he opened one of the books and began to speak. 
"According to the antediluvian Legend of Elsterin, a forefather of our capital heritage, there shall come an epoch when all beings morally just depart, and there shall be nonexistence of all but flagitiousness. Nevertheless, I am thus alleviated of such consternation that this age is not yet to be. Therefore, it is not due to this period of diablerie that thou hast lost thy creature. I thus deem the veraciousness to be that thy creature was frightened or merely diverted from its forgoing excogitations by a being of these woods. This domain encompasses diverse existences, thus thou creature, with its feeble intellect, has digressed. But thou shall set thy eyes upon it anew, this truth I grasp. Thou hast made a noble endeavor, and thus erstwhile seeking the counsel of two lords of the woods, thy have approached mine self for restoration of hope. And this is the assurance I bestow upon thee: revert to thy dwelling, lest thou mislay thy path, and thou creature shall recrudesce to thee; its heart shall desire for thy companionship and its body shall crave for nourishment. Therefore, heed my bidding, young ones; avert to whence thou originated and thou shall ascertain that which thou pursue, thus all hope shan't be forgotten!" 
Ricky sat, dumbfounded, where he was, blinking in unbelief as the man's speech continued. He had no idea what the older Mr. Ackerman was trying to tell them, but Alfy grinned and nodded his head in full understanding the entire time. When the man finally finished, he sighed and leaned back against the wall, as though his speech had put a great strain on him, and he quietly sat at his desk, staring into the distance. Ricky shook his head to clear it and then stood when he realized that Mr. Ackerman had no more to say. He began to say a few words of thanks to the man, although he really didn't see how he helped, but Alfy stood next to him and said, 
"Don't bother 'im. He goes into some sorta.what is it?" Alfy turned to the younger brother. 
"Deep contemplation," the man answered. 
"Right- he goes intu that. So he's won't be a-hearin' ya right now." 
Alfy said goodbye to the Ackermans and then made his way to the entrance of the room, stopping right outside of the doorway. Ricky stood, nodded to the large man, and then made his way past Alfy and back up the stairs into the sunlight. Alfy stuck his head back in through the door one last time, shouting, 
"Thank you, Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Ackerman. Ya'll's been a great help!" and then made his way up the stairs to join Ricky.
The two boys made their way back up the hill in silence, but when they reached the top, Ricky turned to Alfy and asked, though he was sure the younger boy wouldn't know the answer,
"What did that all mean?"
"Oh," began Alfy with a sigh. "Just that he thinks your dawg was distracted or scared intu the woods or somethin' and we's should be a headin' home. He's a thinkin' thet the lil' ol' dawg will start gettin' hungry and'll go back tu yer house- so you'll be seein' 'im 'gin soon." 
Ricky shook his head. "And we're going to follow that advice?"
"Yep."
Ricky gave a sarcastic laugh. "Why? That man was weird!" 
"I's told ya he's a bit loony in 'is noggin at times- but he's real smart man. So's we's jest gonna do as 'e says. Should be seein' your pup 'for no time." 
Ricky wasn't convinced, but when he looked at his watch a few minutes later and saw that it was almost six at night, he decided he needed to head home anyway so that he was back in time for supper like his parents had told him to be. 
	It took about forty minutes to get back to where they had started, but when the two boys reached the hole where they had first met, a young girl was standing there, calling, 
"Alfy! Alfy, you's be a comin' out right this minute, ya hearin' me? I's mean it!" 
The girl continued stomping around and angrily calling, but Alfy only looked up at Ricky and grinned, saying, "O- that there's my lil' sis; must be time fer supper. Come an' meet 'er!" 
Ricky wasn't sure he wanted to meet her, but Alfy grabbed his arm, hurrying him along, and they quickly reached where the girl was standing. As they approached the girl, she turned to them, put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys. But Alfy smiled and said, 
"This here's Ricky- a new friend of mine. We's had ourselves quite an afternoon!"
Ricky said hello, but the girl only continued to stare at Alfy in icy silence. Everything remained extremely quiet, so that all Ricky could hear were the birds singing and Alfy's pup playing among the leaves. The girl was the first to break the silence as she yelled,
"What you think you're a doin' boy? We's ought tu be havin' supper rite now!"
"Well, I's." 
"You's wut? Goin' fishin'?" the girl interrupted. 
"No, actually." 
"Oh, no? You's goin' tu see sum of yer other friends, right?"
"Yes! Ya see." 
"I knew it!" the girl interrupted again. 
She started loudly talking to Alfy, exclaiming how inconsiderate he could be sometimes and shouting about previous wrongs he had once committed. Alfy shrugged and turned towards Ricky with a grin. 
"Well, ought tu be goin' then, I suppose."
Ricky raised his voice so that he could be heard over the angry girl's voice.
"Thanks for your help."
"Don't mention it. Always enjoy makin' new friends anyways- and what a time we's had, didn't we?"
Ricky nodded and smiled. 
"Guess you should head on. I'll see you later, then?"
Alfy wrinkled his nose and whispered in Ricky's ear, "She's only my lil sis- don't gotta listen to 'er!" 
Ricky grinned as Alfy took a step back and said,
"Course you'll be a seein' me 'gin! You's know's where's tu find me! Maybe we can's a go fishin' tomorra! I's know this great lil ol' fishin' hole that's over at Mr. Newman's place. Only thing is," Alfy said, cocking his head and giving Ricky a thoughtful look, "it's got sum alligators in there. They're mean things, too! Get after ya fer no reason 'tall. But it's still a real good place tu go a fishin.' We's jest might have to fish from the trees. Wouldn't be bad. That-a way we's could go squirrel huntin' and fishin' all at once!" 
Alfy's sister called again, interrupting their conversation. 
Alfy shrugged his shoulders and turned around away from Ricky. 
"Alrighty, then- see ya later, pal!" Alfy called, smiling and waving as he ran off after his sister, who had made her way down the path heading towards their home- continuing on her rampage. Ricky shook his head in wonder at all the strange people he'd met that day and then turned around and headed for where he had come into the woods. 
	By the time he had reached the edge of the forest, he only had five minutes to get back home on time; he would just have to explain to his parents why he was late. He quickly made his way over to his fishing supplies that he had dumped on the ground, and as he bent over to pick them up, something wet hit his face. As he examined the ground, he realized that Cricket had walked between his legs and was staring up at him. 
"You little rascal!" Ricky cried. He picked his dog up with a grin, petting him. 
"How long have you been here? Do you realize what a day you've put me through?" 
The little dog barked in acknowledgment. Ricky smiled. 
"I met three old crazy persons: mute, deaf, and just a plain ol' loony! And then I just had to meet a very impatient little girl." 
Ricky chuckled and shook his head saying, "Though I think I've made a friend." The little dog barked again and licked him in the face and Ricky carefully set him down on the ground, warning the terrier that he had better stick with him this time.  
The boy turned and picked up his equipment. 
"Okay, Cricket- let's go. We've got to hurry up and get home! They'll be ready for supper any minute." 
Ricky took off, running down the trail, and the little dog happily followed after his master, wagging his tail and barking, as though trying to tell the boy of the adventures he had had throughout the afternoon in the woods as well.