A small head appeared, round and shiny, and then another. More heads jerked into view, peering, craning to see. “I’m first,” one head shrilled. There was a momentary squabble, then quick agreement.

The man sitting on the sidewalk lifted out the little metal figure with trembling hands. He put it down on the sidewalk and began to wind it awkwardly, thick-fingered. It was a brightly painted soldier with helmet and gun, standing at attention. As the man turned the key the little soldier’s arms went up and down. It struggled eagerly.

Along the sidewalk two women were coming, talking together. They glanced down curiously at the man sitting on the sidewalk, at the box and the shiny figure in the man’s hands.

“Fifty cents,” the man muttered. “Get your child something to—”

“Wait!” a faint metallic voice came. “Not them!”

The man broke off abruptly. The two women looked at each other and then at the man and the little metal figure. They went hurriedly on.

The little soldier gazed up and down the street, at the cars, the shoppers. Suddenly it trembled, rasping in a low, eager voice.

The man swallowed. “Not the kid,” he said thickly. He tried to hold onto the figure, but metal fingers dug quickly into his hand. He gasped.

“Tell them to stop!” the figure shrilled. “Make them stop!” The metal figure pulled away and clicked across the sidewalk, its legs still and rigid.

The boy and his father slowed to a stop, looking down at it with interest. The sitting man smiled feebly; he watched the figure approach them, turning from side to side, its arms going up and down.

“Get something for your boy. An exciting playmate. Keep him company.”

The father grinned, watching the figure coming up to his shoe. The little soldier bumped into the shoe. It wheezed and clicked. It stopped moving.