"Sure," I said, grinning, "our farmer's a shrewdie. His boys are back there and they're eating up all the potatoes." "Very funny. Just stop the damn truck." I turned my head and looked at Joe's face. He was scared. Maybe he had one of those premonitions you read about. I shrugged and found a widened stretch of road shoulder and pulled the big semi up. Joe hopped out of the cab and went around back. After a while I heard the rear doors swing open. Then they closed again and Joe came back. I hadn't heard him stomping around inside the van or anything. "Sacks shifting around like I said?" I asked. Joe's face was white in the dash light. He shook his head. "Harry," he said. That's my name. Harry. "Harry, we was tricked." "What do you mean, tricked?" I was getting a little annoyed with Joe. He stood half in and half out of the cab. I wanted to get moving. "Ain't no potatoes," Joe said. "No potatoes? What the hell are you talking about? We loaded those spuds ourselves." "Ain't no potatoes," Joe repeated in a funny voice. "Harry, listen. Let's just leave the load and truck and everything and get the hell out of here." * * * * * I looked at him and snorted, then swung out of the cab on my side and went around back. I undid the chain and the door-bar and pulled the tongue down so I could open the rear doors. Then I swung up into the van in the darkness. There was a smell in there. Not a potato smell. To this day I still can't say what it was. But it was a funny smell and it made the short hairs on the back of my neck feel all cold and prickly-like. I lit a match and swore. Joe was right. There just weren't any potatoes, I don't care _who_ loaded them. But there _was_ something back there. Call it jelly, if you want. I saw it and I can't do better. Say, two or three tons of quivering jelly filling up the center of the floor of the van. Joe called: "Well?" I was carrying a lighted match into the van with me. It burned my fingers. I lit another one and slowly approached the jelly. It didn't seem to have any color, so it took on the orange glowing color of the flaming match. It pulsed. I went near it, then stopped. There were still a few potatoes on the floor of the van, after all. I stood by while the jelly rolled sluggishly toward them. The potatoes were enveloped. In a minute there weren't any potatoes. Then the jelly-thing stopped quivering. I came close and touched it gingerly with one finger. It burned. I withdrew my hand. "Harry?" Joe called. Just then I heard the sound of glass breaking. A section of the jelly had blubbered over against the van's small front window, smashing it. I didn't think a soft jelly would have the strength. "Harry!" Joe shouted. It was like a shout of animal fear. I heard the sound of more glass breaking. The rear window of the cab, I thought. I hopped over the rear tongue of the van and sped around to the cab. Joe was sitting there, smoking a cigarette.