"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 once more with color. "What a crazy thought! I could have sworn ... well, never mind. But it shakes a man to learn what tricks his own mind can play on him, all in an instant." "What kind of tricks, Uncle Phil?" "Oh, no you don't. If you hadn't egged me on with so many questions, I'd have been spared a pretty nasty moment, you know that? Now let me concentrate on driving for a change so I can get you home in time for supper. O. K.?" "But ... oh, O.K." "Don't sound so disappointed, chum. It's been a pleasant drive, even if nothing much happened." "Yes, Uncle Phil. Even if ... nothing much happened."