"Let me hear it, son." He
made striking motions with his stick. "Ba, ba _boom!_ Ba, ba, _boom! _
Let me hear it now." He had twirled his way directly in front of
Oliver. His eyes were sharp and blue beneath shaggy gray eyebrows. He
smiled happily, letting the group feel his joy. Oliver felt Jennifer's
foot on his; he stopped staring and struck his drum three times.
"Yes," Bogdolf said, spreading his arms approvingly. "The power!" He
looked upward and staggered back several steps. He looked again at
Oliver and made a commanding motion with the stick. Oliver struck the
drum three times. "_Gaia, _" Bogdolf said. Oliver felt a pat on his arm.
"A long time ago," Bogdolf began, "in the time of the Water People . .
." He paced back and forth as he told the story. His voice rose and
fell. He was on the verge of tears. He laughed. He whispered.
Threatened. Trembled. Finally: "And _that_ is how the little drum saved
the Water People." He looked at Oliver. Jennifer's foot pressed down.
Oliver struck his drum three times, and there was loud clapping.
"Gaia!" someone called. Bogdolf bowed modestly and made his way to the
coffee table where he was soon surrounded.
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