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thought of Barsoom. John Carter had flown through the Martian air in a one-man aircraft. Robert sat farther back in his seat, so he could see only sky out the window. It made it easier to believe they were flying through the air in a Mountie scout ship.
    Horshoe's grain elevators rose up like the citadel towers on Barsoom. He wished they'd been made of stone. Soon the "Pioneer" and "Ogilvie" emblems became clear.
    The car didn't slow down. Robert swallowed. They seemed to be going past town. A second later the Mountie jammed his foot on the brake and cranked the wheel.
    The doubt wouldn't go away; it got darker, bigger. There was something Robert should be afraid of right now, but he wasn't sure what.
    Finally, it came to him. He cleared his throat and said, "Seven is too young to walk to town by yourself."

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Neither Mountie answered Robert, though the sergeant glanced his way. They drove around the corner onto Main Street. On one side was Harper's Hotel, a two-story building with a false front. A laundry had been attached to the wall facing the alley. The grocery store and the pool parlor were across the street. The Royal Theatre stood alone at the end of the block, its doors nailed shut.
    A crowd had gathered in front of the hotel. Robert spotted his family's wagon but not his mom and dad. The Mountie parked the car, and the people were magnetically drawn toward it. The sergeant got out, opened the back door for Robert, and helped him down.
    "Where is Mr. Steelgate?" the sergeant asked.
    The crowd parted and there stood Robert's parents, unmoving, as though they'd been turned to stone. His father was a slim, wiry man with his sleeves rolled up, his face prematurely wrinkled by the sun and from squinting to keep out the dust. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired. Robert's mother was also tall, her body a frail vessel for her spirit, her clothing plain gray. They looked to be in a trance.
    The sergeant spoke their names, breaking the spell. They shuffled like zombies toward Robert. He was frightened by their slowness.
    He spotted Uncle Alden standing behind them, thin as a post, one hand lifted up as though he was about to wave hello. Then Robert's mother wrapped her long arms around her son, squeezing him against her bony chest, slender fingers clutching his head. "You stupid, stupid boy." He had never heard her voice so soft. "You're safe. Dear God, you're safe."
    Robert was confused. Why was he stupid, and what did she mean by safe? He didn't feel safe. He felt as though there were invisible strings pulling at him, and soon one would drag him away.
    His mother loosened her grip and moved her hands to his cheeks. Her fingers were cool. She shook as if a chill had run through her. "I was so frightened ... so frightened."
    Robert's dad put his hand on her shoulder, dwarfing it. He said, "Your brother is missing."
    Robert nodded. "I know."
    "How did you know? Did the Mounties tell you?" his father asked.
    "No." Robert wanted to close his eyes, to get away from all this, because he didn't understand what was happening. But somewhere inside he had known about this disappearance the moment the blood egg had broken. Maybe even when he'd heard the truck passing his house. "I ... I think I guessed."
    His mom let go and they stared at him quizzically. Robert had the sick, guilty feeling that he had given the wrong answer.
    Uncle Alden squeezed Robert's arm. "Don't worry. It's all gonna work out. We'll find your brother. That's why the Mounties and all these people are here."
    His uncle looked very serious—grave, in fact. Robert wished this were a different day. If it was he could ask Uncle Alden about Barsoom. About the warlord and the battles with the Tharks. Instead of feeling frightened.
    "Your son said he heard a truck go by your house before you left for town," the sergeant said.
    "Truck?" said Robert's dad. "I didn't hear a truck go by. Are you sure, son?"
    Was he sure? Every question spun webs of doubt around