as often happened if one made a move. Angus gave a hideous yell. A filthy whitish dog went for his arm and Angus dropped his whips and punched it square in the snout. The dog did not whimper and slink off, but sprang again. Once more Angus connected his blow, but as the dog twisted away, its head came down on Angus’s leg and it tore his pants.
Get him off me!
Cappy turned. Dust flew. He scraped his feet in the dirt and pulled up beside Angus with the open pepper can, took a handful and flung it in the dog’s face. It yipped and disappeared. But the others now surrounded us, clamoring for blood, their ears laid back. They snapped and gnashed like land sharks. We couldn’t drop our bikes and run since we’d just have to retrieve the bicycles later. Anyway the dogs were quicker and would catch us before we could build up speed. Awkwardly, sticking close together, we climbed off and walked our bikes. Cappy peppered another dog. I clobbered two. The peppered dogs recovered and jumped back, drooling for revenge. They formed a circle and advanced, stiff-legged. Cappy dropped the can of pepper on the road and it spilled.
Ah shit, he said. We’re gonna die.
We need fire, cried Angus. I clubbed a dog. It popped up. All of a sudden the dogs’ heads turned. Their ears perked. As one pack they loped off. We heard the door of the little house slam.
She must be feeding them, said Cappy.
Maaj! cried Angus. We jumped back on our bikes and flew up the rest of the road, hardly noticing the rise. Then we ran our bikes down through the woods and hoisted them over the chain-link fence. We were safe in the graveyard. It was nearly dusk. Through the thick pines below we could make out a fractured glow from the windows of the priest’s house. We wheeled our bikes down toward it. The fear I’d had of passing through the graveyard was eclipsed by relief. The dogless dead felt safe. We lingered on our stroll until it was almost dark, pointing out landmark gravestones. We each had ancestors in common, dotted here and there. The air was beginning to stir and a rainbird called over and over in the blue woods.
It’s time, said Cappy when we reached the bottom.
The gate was loosely held together by the padlocked chain. We pulled it wide and eased our bikes through. With trepid stealth we rolled them to the far edge of the churchyard. The grass was clipped short, the stubble cool with evening dew. We slipped up beside the small cottage, just a one-story modernized cabin. Father Travis lived there by himself. We crouched into a scraggly bush. The low mutter of a television came from inside the house. We crawled around the far side to the window where the sound was loudest.
I wanna look in, whispered Angus.
He’ll see you, I said.
There’s blinds. Angus raised his head.
He came down quick.
He’s sitting there watching!
Did he see you?
I dunno.
We went back around to the most hidden side of the house. There were footsteps inside and a sudden spill of light out the window just above our heads. There was a pause. The priest’s silhouette loomed behind the curtain. We pressed ourselves to the clapboard. Just behind our heads a gentle splattering started.
Cappy mouthed the question Taking a piss? I shrugged because it sounded more like someone had taken the cap off a bottle and was gently shaking a delicate stream of water into the toilet. It took a long time and there were pauses. Then the toilet flushed, the faucet went on and off, the light went out, a door shut.
He’s a low-key pisser, said Cappy.
Well, he is a priest, said Angus.
Do they piss funny?
They don’t have sex, said Angus. With no regular use, maybe the plumbing could get rusty.
Like you know, said Cappy.
You guys stay here.
I crawled around the side of the house to the bluish TV glow. Anyone who came into the yard or passed beneath the black pines would have seen me. I stood and leaned slowly to the edge of the window. It was open, to catch the June breeze. I could see the back of Father Travis’s head. He was sitting before the television in an easy chair and at his elbow there was a city beer, a Michelob. I couldn’t tell what he was watching at first, and then I realized it was a movie. Not a