Night Arrant

"Chert and I might, for instance, decide to play a game." Twistbuck paused, looked at Chert for effect, and shook his head in disbelief. The barbarian cast him a menacing look, and Gord found the little interlude amusing and made no attempt to hide his reaction. The professor continued. "So anyway, we decide that we will walk outside, move randomly, and alternately count the legs which appear on signs along our path. Each of us gets one sign, legs or not appearing on it, the occurrence of a sign ending one player's turn and begi

"Suppose we walk out the door now, and Chert is given the first sign encountered after leaving, but I choose what direction we take. Now, after an i

Despite the somewhat convoluted explanation, Gord grasped the game easily. "What a delightful pastime indeed!" he said with admiration oozing from his voice. "Do you ever actually wager on the play?"

"Certainly," Twistbuck replied. "Didn't your gigantic comrade here tell you that? However, I don't waste my time playing for small stakes."

Gord could hardly conceal his enthusiasm. "Let's play a game now! It would be quite exciting to learn from the one who invented it, you know — quite a feather in my cap!"

"Well. . ."

"Of course I'd be willing to place a small stake on each leg. Would a zee be too little for a man of your talents?"

The professor slowly nodded. "Too little by far. A common is the least i'd be interested in wagering."

"A man after my own heart! If you're going to wager, you might as well make the stakes worth wi

"Done, young man. It is nearing the witching hour even now, and I must repair to my chambers for study and rest. Tomorrow is a day of classwork, you know. May I suggest that we play at noon on Starday?"

Gord was delighted at the stakes and the time, for the delay would enable him to do some scouting beforehand. "That seems satisfactory, although I'd hoped to play sooner." he told the professor, allowing false disappointment to enter his voice as he did so. "No matter, I defer to your wishes, sir. May I select the starting point?"

"Of course, my boy," Twistbuck agreed heartily, "but it must be somewhere within the southern half of the city, and it must also be at an intersection with three or more possible directions to choose from."

That sounded reasonable. "I agree," Gord said, his mind racing. "But who shall go first? And what length of game will we play?"

Twistbuck considered the questions for a moment, then suggested. "You take the first sign, and we'll just alternate back and forth from then on. In the case of two signs on either side of the route, the one on the left shall be taken first, the one on the right considered second. As you shall have first count, you will also pick what direction we go from the starting intersection. I'll pick the next direction, and so forth. Alternating choice prevents any pre-selection of a route — that would be cheating, now, wouldn't it? Signs off the direct route are not allowed as proper for either contestant, even if the sign is clearly visible from the artery being traveled. That is all, save for us to set the limit on play."

"Time could allow one or the other player to gain an advantage by having one or more sign than the other fellow, as would distance traveled. I suggest that we each be allowed a set number of signs," Gord said thoughtfully.

"Of course! Now do be so good as to set the number, and I'll bid you good night!"

Gord arose as Twistbuck did, shook his hand, and said, "A noble a leg to the wi

"Indeed, and I look forward with pleasure to the amusement my little game will provide to such a bright, enterprising fellow as yourself. Good rest to you all!" So saying, the don took his leave, and Gord and Chert left the tavern soon thereafter.

Chert was sound asleep when Gord went out the next morning. He had much to accomplish in the little more than twenty-four hours left before the game would begin. The young thief was suspicious. Twistbuck seemed too casual about the stakes involved, too willing to let Gord determine the details of the arrangement. Gord was going to carefully go over the area he would choose for the game to start in. familiarize himself with the signs around it. and be fully prepared when they began. Perhaps this was unfair, but the verbal rules set down by the game's creator held no provisions for or against such conduct. Pla

"Where have you been?" Chert asked as his comrade returned to their domicile near sundown.

"Taking care of some business and walking a bit. Nothing important," Gord replied carelessly.

Turning away to hide his smile, the giant hillman asked Gord if he should fix something for them to eat.

"No, let's go out for a bite - my treat. How about the Toad again?"

"Sure pal, whatever you say if you're buying, but the food there isn't very good. What about— "

"Hey! I'm buying, so we go where I choose!"

"Okay, if it means that much to you. I just thought you might like a good meal," Chert wasn't about to argue when the ride was free.

"Well, in all honesty, I'm hoping your professor friend will be there. I need to ask a couple of questions about our game tomorrow."

"Oh," said Chert, dropping the subject.

They had eaten and were sipping drinks when Twistbuck came in. As soon as he saw the two, he came over to their comer and sat down. After pleasant greetings were exchanged and Chert had ordered and paid for the professor's refreshment, Gord began to grill the fellow.

"If I were playing this 'Legs' game of yours, and I came upon a place called The Boot, would I count a leg?"

"Hardly, old chap." Twistbuck replied with disdain. "It is a game of legs, after all, not footwear."

"Doesn't a boot imply a leg to go into?"

"Pish! Does a horseshoe impry the leg and hoof of a horse?"

"Well, then, how about an octopus? Does that merit a score of eight?"

"Never!" Twistbuck cried in mock horror. Tentacles are also referred to as arms. Must I constantly remind you that the game is legs'?"

"A table has legs."

"Of course."

"And a chair or stool likewise?"

"Certainly. The legs need not be those of a living thing."

Now Gord smiled triumphantly. "What of a wine bottle? It is said that wine has 'legs', you know!"

Twistbuck's reply was dished out with a large helping of scorn. "You are reaching for very silly meanings to this straightforward game, young sir. A wine bottle has no legs, and the name of the establishment, or its sign's proper designation by name, demarks the limits which are allowed."

"What?" Gord asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Should a sign state the establishment is known as Zygfg's Arms, and should the arms thus displayed show various things with legs upon them, there would be no counting of said legs. The proper name of the establishment mentions a person or thing with arms, not legs. Furthermore, should the sign not bear writing, the picture displayed would still have an implied name; that of Zyglg’s Arms in my example. Ergo, other things shown would not allow the scoring of legs."