Curtiss jumped, spilling some of the precious summer lemonade, but Allen was already limping off down the street and the crowd, buzzing with excitement and anticipation, was breaking up.

The hot afternoon wore on. People returned to their respective hobbies. From the roof at 112th and Lenox, the intermittent "tok, tok, tok" of a hammer floated out over the lazy, heat-bound streets. Curtiss was back at work in Pigeon City.

Allen had joined him on the roof. He hobbled this way and that, almost apologetically offering help.

"Need some nails, man? Can I get you some nails?"

Curtiss could not help smiling. He looked up at Allen's eager tan face and willing brown hands. "What's with you, brother?" he said at last.

"Nothing, nothing," Allen quickly replied. He limped away to the tool box, and Curtiss sat down in the shade of the coop, lighting a cigarette and watching his friend.

Allen smelled the smoke and came skipping back. "Where'd you get that?" he demanded. He handed Curtiss a wrinkled bag with a nail sticking out of a corner and snatched the cigarette.

"I requisitioned it," Curtiss replied casually.

Allen puffed greedily and the smoke caught in his lungs. Coughing, he handed it back. "Here man, I don't smoke."

"Neither do I," Curtiss said. He clipped the cigarette and carefully tucked it in his shirt pocket.

Allen was fascinated. He took off his dashiki and hung it near Curtiss' shirt on the door. Curtiss was startled to see how skinny Allen was as he sat down beside him in the shade. His attitude had become conspiratorial.

"You requisitioned cigarettes, and you don't smoke." Allen paused and stroked his chin as though he needed time to really think. "Why?" he suddenly demanded. "For someone else?"

"Nope," Curtiss replied simply.

"Well, why then?" Allen's eyes were narrow.

"Because I wanted to see if the computer would send them, that's all." Curtiss seemed a little annoyed, and Allen knew he was embarrassed.

"You wanted to see if the computer would send them and it did. So I was wrong, is that it?" Allen was smiling. They were well aware of what Allen referred to: After the computer had put two and two together, figured out that Allen was making bombs, and restricted his requisition, Allen had loudly pointed out to everyone that if he could be restricted by the system today, someone else might get the ax tomorrow.

"Policy is subject to change," he said, yet no one seemed to care enough to do anything. Although his point had struck home, it had never been tested.

But the seeds of doubt had been planted. Allen took Curtiss' behavior as proof, and he was glad.

He clapped his hands and stood up. "That's what I love about you, brother," he said. "You're so open-minded." Before Curtiss could reply, Allen limped to the door, grabbed his dashiki and started down the steps. The door was swinging shut behind him when he called back over his shoulder, "I'll see you tonight."

Curtiss was alone on the roof again. "Yeah, catch you later," he said, almost to himself. He got to his feet and scanned the sky. Soon the birds would begin returning. Curtiss was worried. He frowned and moved around the roof, making ready for the arrival of the first pigeon.

Later, the pigeons were back safely in the coop. The roof was crowded with laughing, eager people. The word had spread. Allen looked around and paced with unconcealed delight.

Hundreds of people had responded to the possibility of being entertained by their local star. To make them act was another matter, but Allen had a plan. Tonight, he would do more than entertain.

Click HERE for Part IV