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base with the Deerslayers. They’re pretty good. P.S. Has Tommy Scott been playing regularly?
    He mailed the letter the next morning.
    They spent that weekend and Monday driving around the countryside. Alan played baseball Monday afternoon and Skeeter rode
     his skateboard as much as he could. He also played catch with Alan and Jim Buckley. On Tuesday morning, two days before the
     Miracles were to return home, the Deerslayers permitted Skeeter to have battingpractice with them. Jim Buckley handled the team since he was captain and Mr. Thompson, the coach, had to work.
    Skeeter faced a tall right-hander and hit the first two pitches directly down the third-base line. “Look,” he heard one of
     the kids say. “He’s batting cross-handed!”
    Then Skeeter laid into a pitch and sent it sailing over the left-field fence. The next pitch rocketed even further.
    “Hey, look!” the same kid exclaimed. “And cross-handed, too!”
    Skeeter tossed the bat aside and ran out to shag flies in the outfield. He used Jim Buckley’s extra glove.
    “Hey, you really hit that apple!” cried Alan.
    “Just lucky,” said Skeeter.
    The time came at last for the Miracles to go home. The moose antlers would be shippedas soon as they were ready, Dad was promised. Skeeter thought he had never had as much fun as he had visiting his cousin Alan.
     But he was glad that the time had come to go home, too. He missed Gus terribly. He missed Shadow, and the Milky Ways.
    Once in a while he had thought about Roger Hyde and Tommy Scott and Pancho. He sure hoped that Pancho was all right again.
     But he thought mostly about Tommy Scott. Had he played a lot during Skeeter’s absence? Had he played well? Real well? Was
     he as good as Roger seemed to think he was? And then the question that worried Skeeter the most: Had Tommy proven himself
     to be so good that he’d replace Skeeter as a starter?
    The families said their good-byes at the bus station Thursday noon, and the Miracles were on their way home. They boarded
     a jetliner in Boise, and that evening they werein New York City. From there they boarded a twin-engined plane, arrived at Crown Point at ten o’clock, and took a cab home.
    “I’ve got to see Gus!” Skeeter cried as the cab stopped in front of their house.
    He ran along the side of the house to the front porch. He tripped climbing the steps so fast, caught his balance, went on.
     He got to Gus’s cage.
    “Gus!” he cried happily. “Gus! I’m back! Come on out! Where are you, you ol’ buddy?”
    It was moonlight. Gus would have no trouble stepping out of the cage. But Gus didn’t step out. Maybe, thought Skeeter, Gus
     was so surprised to hear his voice he couldn’t move.
    Skeeter opened the door of the cage and stuck his head inside. “Gus …” he started to say, then stared.
    The cage was empty.

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    S keeter wanted to telephone Shadow and ask about Gus, but Mom told him to go to bed, that he could see Shadow tomorrow. He
     went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. All he thought about was Gus, his pet falcon. Where was Gus? Why wasn’t he in his cage?
     Hadn’t Shadow been taking care of him as he’d promised he would?
    Eventually he fell asleep. When he awoke he felt the sun’s warm rays on the covers. He got up, dressed, and ate. Then he telephoned
     Shadow.
    “Sure, I fed Gus,” said Shadow. “At least until he flew away and never came back.”
    “When — when was that, Shadow?”
    “Last Tuesday. I let him out awhile to get some exercise like you had asked me to do. He flew away and never came back. I
     — I’m awful sorry, Skeeter. I was going to write, but Mom said I might as well wait till you got home.”
    Skeeter’s heart felt like a ball of lead. “I never dreamed he’d fly away and not come back. Okay, Shadow. Thanks very much
     for feeding him. I’ll see you later.”
    He started to hang up. But Shadow asked him about the trip, so Skeeter told him. After Skeeter hung up he told the bad news
     about