d for a moment to his brow. "Don't do that!" he snapped
angrily.

"W-what, Uncle Phil?"

"Sorry, Timmy, I didn't mean you. I don't know who I meant ... or,
rather, _what_ I meant, of course. I seem to be pretty confused tonight.
I even startled poor old Homer with that swerve. Get his muddy feet off
the cushions, Timmy." Homer sank back obediently to his usual place
between Timmy's feet, but his muzzle rested on the boy's muddied knees
and his brown eyes regarded both of them at the same time. Apparently he
was not convinced that the upheavals were over.

"What does 'challonari' mean, Uncle Phil?"

"Oh ... that. Just something that came to mind."

"But what does it mean?"

"I don't really know, Timmy ... something about convolutions or a
convoluted shape, I think, but that's only part of it. There are
connotations of ... of intelligence? No ... ridiculous. How can you have
a convoluted intelligence? But a brain is convoluted and to a greater or
lesser degree intelligent. The ... um ... the question of degree comes
into it, I think. A brain of limited intelligence, then, though damned
if I know why I think of it as limited. Challonari ... challonari. It's
not English and it doesn't sound like a technical word, but I must have
heard it in connection with something ... quite recently, too."

"Sort of rhymes with 'shivaree.'"

"Only sort-of, Timmy. You wouldn't make a good poet.
Shivaree--challonari. I mentioned shivaree when we were talking about
people getting lost in the bush, didn't I? Did it have some connection
with that? But how?"

"Maybe a sort of--mental trick?"

"Mental association rings a bell. Mental ... no, it's gone ... wait.
Teacher, trainer, instructor--a brain of limited intelligence would need
a teacher. Gentle teacher. Why gentle, for Pete's sake? But teacher and
pupil, that seems almost right. How much can one word mean? What am I
trying to recall, anyway? The meaning of a word? The _associations_
connected with a word? The association of ideas? Blast it, this is more
than tantalizing."

"Like when you wake up knowing you've had a dream, but you can't
remember any of it?"

"Uh ... yes, like a dream. A dream of--" The blood drained from his
face, leaving him gray and ashen. Timmy put out a hand in alarm, to
steady the wheel.

"Uncle Phil!"

"It's all right, Tim. It ... it's all right. I had a thought there that
kind of shook me." He relaxed with a shaky laugh, relief flooding his
face