---

---

It was a typical blazing Arizona day. Pitiless sun distorting the desert and making Sage Bend look like a toy town off in the distance. Sage Bend and the surrounding desert were bone-dry, furnace-hot, and generally depressing, but there were compensations. Buck liked it and Biddy liked it because it was a country where a small crippled girl and a tiny burro could go almost anywhere they pleased without danger.

Biddy was twelve. Polio had struck during her tenth year necessitating a clumsy brace on her left leg. Thus it was a little difficult to play with the children of Sage Bend and so Biddy's father had brought Buck in from the Circle-7 ranch to be her companion.

Buck was a shaggy philosophical burro with ears almost as long as his legs. He was gentle, rugged, and small enough for Biddy to mount all by herself. Reliable, too. Buck would take Biddy anywhere she wanted to go but he insisted on getting home to the little corral behind the house at a reasonable hour so there was never any coming in after dark.

---

There were many places around Sage Bend where a child and a burro could go. Up in the foothills where Hoppy chased the bad men with Biddy and Buck racing along in front of the posse. Or to the caves and arroyos where an ogre or a giant sometimes captured a handsome prince and held him until Biddy and Buck came along to rescue him.

They knew all the fascinating and magical places, these two, and they were now headed for a flat next to King Arthur's castle where there would be jousting that afternoon. Biddy said, "We'll have to hurry, Buck. We mustn't keep Sir Launcelot waiting or he won't toss us his handkerchief as he goes into the lists."

Buck wig-wagged complete understanding with his ears and increased his speed not one iota. But he signified that there was plenty of time and that they would make it.

"It will be a wonderful tourney, Buck. With all the knights and ladies."

Buck agreed as he pattered up the gulch toward the ridges, his absurd little legs twinkling.

"A wonderful day and—wait a minute, Buck."

Buck stopped and flopped his ears while Biddy stared thoughtfully at a ridge.

Biddy stared for quite a while with a little frown between her blue eyes. Then she looked all around as though to reassure herself of her location. "There's a cave up there, Buck."

The news failed to stir any great interest in the burro.

"It wasn't there before. That's the place where Roy Rogers caught those rustlers and licked all four of them single handed. There were some rocks, but not any cave." Biddy looked about swiftly and a tiny prickle touched the back of her neck and then was gone. It was so quiet around here; so suddenly still and waiting-like.

---

But that was foolish. It was always still up here in the ridges except for a horny toad maybe scraping faintly on a rock or a little dust-devil stirring the dry grass as it stood on its tail and whirled.

Always quiet and she was being foolish. Roy or Hoppy or Davey Crockett wouldn't sit there half-afraid. Biddy said, "Let's go, Buck," and urged the burro to the left toward the rocks.

The cave was clearly visible from the foot of the big boulders and Biddy waited for some moments before she slid off Buck and began climbing the hill. Her leg brace impeded her progress somewhat and clicked every time she took a step.

"No, it couldn't have been here before," she said. "That spot was just a wall in the rock. That was where Roy Rogers fell back and was real groggy for a minute after the bad man smashed a ten-pound boulder right down on his head."

But obviously, there was no solid rock wall now; instead, a rectangular opening clean and even as though cut out of soft butter with a sharp knife. Biddy moved resolutely forward. Ten feet from the opening, she stopped and glanced back at Buck for moral support. Buck slapped at a fly with his left ear and closed his eyes and gave all the moral support he had. Biddy stiffened her little chin and went on.

It was a cave all right but the fact of its being was over-shadowed by what it contained. There was plenty of light to see without going inside and Biddy stood in the entrance and stared wide-eyed.

The main thing inside was a big box with funny knobs and dials on it; a box of some kind of shining metal that almost hurt your eyes when you looked at it. There were other things too—a lot of wires and a funny looking chair and a thing that might have been a loudspeaker of some kind maybe.

Biddy's mind raced. The Eastern Bloc? She turned her eyes up into the sky where she could just make out the space station up there a thousand miles away going around the Earth like another moon watching day and night to see to it the people and the children of the Western Bloc were always safe.

Maybe this box belonged to the Eastern Bloc. They had their own space station but Biddy was just ready to bet they wanted to do something to ours! Maybe this was some kind of a machine they sneaked in here and built that would blow up our station. A pretty mean thing to do but the Eastern Bloc did all kinds of mean things.

---

Biddy was suddenly frightened—real-frightened, not just play-frightened—because what if the men would come out of the cave or from someplace and tie her up and not let her go back and tell Pop and Mom what she'd seen? Then the space station would be blown up and not even Davey Crockett could help because this wasn't like on television where people got killed but not really. This was serious.

Biddy turned slowly, hoping now that the silence would stay as it was and not break into the sound of heavy boots coming after her. It was awfully hard but she went back down the hill slowly, because when she went fast her brace rattled and made a lot of noise.

It seemed like a very long time before she was on Buck, urging him out of the arroyo and back toward Sage Bend.

And she got a little annoyed at how calmly Buck took it, ambling along at his usual rate and not at all impressed by the danger. But then what could you do with a stupid old burro that didn't even know how to wear armor properly and always shook the plume off his helmet and ate it...?

---

Dan Parker was tired. He held the jeep on the rutty road from the Circle-7 to Sage Bend and thought of the cold bottle of beer that was waiting for him at home. This twelve-mile drive every morning and night was rough, but what could a man do? A man couldn't put his wife and kid in a bunkhouse with a dozen hands, and there was no other place for Jane and Biddy at the ranch. The house in Sage Bend wasn't so bad, though. The rent was cheap and there were a few friends Jane could talk to.

Dan wiped the dried sweat off his face and wondered why it cost so damn much just to live. Of course, in his case, there was a reason. A big reason. Biddy getting hit with polio had cleaned him out and put him in debt. Not that he begrudged it of course. She was alive and that was the main thing. That damned brace cut him every time he looked at it, but she was alive and healthy again. He had no complaints even if it took him the next ten years to pay off.

He was lucky in a lot of ways. Being foreman at the Circle-7 paid little enough but it was still better than an ordinary cow hand's pay. And young Davey getting hit with polio in spite of all the serums about the same time it had clubbed Biddy down. Funny how bad luck for some was good luck for others. Davey getting hit was tragedy for the boy and for old Sam Taber, his father. But it had been good luck for Dan Parker because if Davey hadn't been crippled he'd be foreman himself and Dan Parker getting straight hand-money. Yeah, bad luck for some—good luck for others. Not that he gloried in Davey's misfortune, but a man had to look out for his own and the cards had just fallen that way.

Sage Bend came into sight and as Dan approached, he saw a plodding figure in the middle of the road moving in the same direction. The sight irritated Dan. Even when he got close enough to see the white cane tapping on ahead of the shuffling feet, he was still irritated.

Why did Art Haney have to be like that? He was blind, sure, and everybody felt sorry for him, but he didn't have to rub it in your face. He could hear the jeep coming and could move over out of the way but no, he had to stay smack where he was until you pulled to a dead stop and honked. Then he would jump as though you'd just missed running him down and cower on the side of the road. Didn't want anybody to miss the fact that he was blind and helpless—as if they could!

Dan stopped and honked and watched Art put on his pathetic little act and felt guilty because it didn't stir him. Maybe he was hardened, but what the hell? Every time you came down the road. There's a limit.

Dan called, "Hi Art."

The answering voice had a falsetto that sounded faked. "Oh, it's you, Dan. Blind man can't tell a thing like that."

"Want a ride into town?"

"No—no. I'll hobble along and make it myself. A blind man doesn't like to think he's dependent on everybody. Tries to do the best he can."

"Okay. See you later."

"Sure, but I won't see you, Dan. Could of once, but can't any more."

---

Dan Parker jammed down the gas pedal and the jeep rammed forward kicking up a cloud of dust that left Art Haney coughing. Dan immediately felt guilty. Mean trick, but he hadn't done it on purpose. Just thoughtless.

He rolled the jeep into town and lifted a hand as he passed the jail. Cecil Bates, sheriff of the county, lifted one in return but his expression never changed. Sour—that was the word, Dan thought. Cecil felt himself wasted in a country sheriff's job. Fancied himself of big-town caliber, but all he did was park on a chair in front of the jail and think about it. Sour was the word all right. In fact, Dan thought, sour was the word for the whole damned town of Sage Bend. Come to think of it, there wasn't a happy person in the place.

Except Biddy.

Dan parked the jeep and went in the house and got a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator. He went on through and out into the backyard where Jane was taking down the last of the wash. Damn—it seemed women were always washing. Come home and everytime they were hanging clothes or taking them down.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at Jane. Looked to actually see her which was not the same as the ordinary looking people usually did. There was a stoop in her slim shoulders and something—well, something in the way she carried her body. Tired-like. She'd been so deuced pretty when he'd married her; so pretty he'd just had to have her and that was the only way. Why kid himself? He'd married her because he wanted her and love, if there really was such a thing, had come afterward. But it had come; or maybe it was habit. Anyhow, he couldn't think of life anymore except in terms of Jane and Biddy.

But it would be nice if just one more time—just one night—there could be the old spark, the old breathless fire that flamed so briefly and had now smouldered down into a sort of tired consideration—an habitual companionship with each knowing the other's habits and likings and responding automatically.

But what the hell? What could you expect in this day and age? With tension for breakfast and dinner and supper. With those two space stations floating around up there waiting to blow the world up. Watching day and night. There was little room to think of anything else.

---

Jane turned with an armful of clothes and saw him. Her smile was a quick up-turning of her lips and then it was gone. "Home, dear? Have a hard day?"

"Rough. We moved three hundred head in from the north range to the loading platforms."

Jane pushed past him and laid the clothes on the kitchen table. She straightened and pushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. "Three hundred head. That's quite a few. What are they worth apiece, Dan?"

"Around two hundred and fifty dollars probably."

"And with all that money old Sam can't give you a little raise. I think it's a sin."

"It isn't clear money, hon. Not by any means."

"All the same—"

Dan caught her as she tried to pass and kissed her. She responded after a fashion but when it was over it was over. "I've got to get the potatoes on. You go sit on the front porch, I'll call you."

"Where's Biddy?"

Jane stopped with a gesture of frustration as though this was something she'd forgotten. "Oh, that child! I sent her to her room, Dan."

"To her room? Why?"

"I just had to. We've got to do something about that imagination of hers. She can't separate reality from fantasy anymore."

"What was it this time?"

"Something about a cave up in the ridges with a big metal box in it. The Eastern Bloc is going to use it to blow our station out of the sky."

---

Dan shrugged. "Kids live in their own world, honey. Isn't sending her to her room a little rough?"

"I had to. She was going down to tell Cecil Bates about it. Can you imagine what—?"

Dan laughed. "He'd have probably arrested her for spreading rumors. I'll take her out on the porch and talk to her, okay?"

"Just so you keep her out of my hair until I get supper ready."

Dan opened the door of Biddy's room and said, "Hi, pigeon. Hot in there?"

"Not bad, Pop. There's a breeze through the window."

The gruesome leg brace smote him as usual and his inward tightening against it was so habitual that he hardly noticed the slight tension of his chest muscles. He said, "How about coming out on the porch and telling me all about this cave?"

"Is it all right with Mom?"

"Uh-huh. I fixed it."

"She told you about the cave and the box?"

"Just mentioned it in passing. Told me to get the details from you."

He picked her up and carried her out front where they sat down side by side on the front steps and looked out across the miserable little desert town. Dan's eyes fell on the tavern front over near the depot. There would be at least half a dozen drunks in there and after sundown there would be foremen from the ranches roundabout talking them into going back to work.

"The cave wasn't there before."

"It wasn't?"

"No. It's the place I always played Roy Rogers, but I went there yesterday and there was a door in the rock."

"The door was open?"

"Wide open. I went inside and there was a big shiny box in there."

Maybe a man was better off in the city—in the war plants. "Well what do you know about that!"

"Pop! You aren't listening."

"Oh yes, I am."

"But you don't believe me."

"I sure do."

"The box had a lot of tubes and dials on it."

Of course, now they'd taken the profit out of war there wasn't much more money there either unless you worked fifteen hours a day. "Was Roy there waiting for you?"

"Pop! It wasn't make believe! The box was really there and the Eastern Bloc is going to use it to wreck our space station."

"They'd better not!" That was another thing. If the blow ever fell and all the brains thought it was sure to, a man had better have his family as far from a city as possible.

"I thought maybe they would capture Buck and me so we couldn't tell on them but there wasn't anybody there. We got away all right."

Not that it would do much good. The radiation would get everybody eventually. Maybe it would be better to be killed quick and get it over with.

"Pop—I'm not fibbing to you—"

Dan roused himself from his somber thoughts. "I know you're not honey. Listen, let's go out and give Buck some water and about that time Mom will have supper ready. What do you say?"

Biddy sighed. "All right Pop...."

---

The sun blazed down on the desert just as it had yesterday and would do tomorrow. Biddy sat on the dozing Buck and looked across the rocks at the place she'd first seen the doorway. It had taken a lot of courage to come back here after being so scared before and after nobody had believed her. They'd said there hadn't been any door at all—that she'd only been make-believing.

And maybe—just maybe—they had been right, because there wasn't any door there now.

Biddy urged Buck on up the slope. She went fearfully at first, then with more courage because everything looked very quiet and peaceful, really. Maybe the horrid people from the Eastern Bloc had realized how silly it was—trying to blow up our station—and had packed up and gone home. It wasn't scary at all now. Biddy urged Buck right up to the wall and he stood there with his eyes half-closed catching a nap. And that was good because you couldn't fool animals about people. If there had been anyone around, Buck would have known, all right.

"Hello, little girl."

A chill went through Biddy. Not the cold kind, the tickly kind, as she turned and saw the man. Buck turned and saw him too and then went back to sleep.

The speaker was a man and Biddy wondered how on earth she could have missed him. He was sitting on a rock beside the place the doorway had been and while Biddy wanted to be scared and thought she ought to be scared, she wasn't able to feel that way about the man at all.

He got up from his rock and stood there smiling at her. He was very tall—taller than Pop who was no shorty himself—and had a kind of yellow hair that was thick and curly. There seemed to be a shiny circle around the hair but then Biddy saw that was just the sun and the way the man was standing.

It was hard to say how old the man really was. He was about like Pop, but in some ways he seemed a lot younger than that and in some ways much older. It was very confusing. He was kind of slim but he had a lot of muscle too—probably the way Davey Crockett would look with his shirt off maybe.

Biddy raised one leg and the man said, "Need any help?"

"No—no I can make it all right."

"That horse seems to be built right to your size."

Biddy laughed. "Buck's not a horse."

"He's not? Or should I say she's not?"

This man was so funny. "Buck's a boy."

"Oh."

"And he's a burro, not a horse."

"Well what do you know about that? Can you imagine me calling him a horse? Will you pardon me?"

---

Biddy took a couple of steps toward the man, then stopped uncertainly. "I—are you—?"

"Why don't you come over here and sit down with me?"

"Is—is it all right?"

"I don't know why not."

"I thought maybe you were from the Eastern Bloc." That was foolish of course. Nobody as nice as this man could be from the horrid East.

"No. I'm not from there." The man's clear gray eyes were on Biddy's brace as she approached.

"Then where are you from?"

That seemed to take a little thought. "Well, let's say I'm from the sky bloc."

"There is a sky bloc?"

"Oh, yes. A very big, big one. After all, the sky is very big isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right. But what are you doing here?"

That was obviously an even tougher one to answer. "Oh, I've got a little job to do."

"You aren't going to blow up our space station, are you?"

"No, that is, I hope not."

"You mean that maybe you will?"

---

The man's smile said everything was going to be all right and because little girls understood smiles and believed them even more than words, it wasn't necessary to go into the subject any further. "What's your name?"

The man said some funny word that Biddy couldn't understand. She laughed and he laughed too and then said, "Why don't you call me Joe? That's a nice easy name to remember."

"It's a nice name. Do you live in the cave there where the shiny box is?"

The smile left Joe's face. "You were inside the cave?"

"Yesterday. You left the door open."

"Yes. I'm staying there for a while." Joe changed the subject quickly. "What's the matter with your leg?"

"I had polio."

"Polio? You were sick?"

"Yes, I was very sick, but I didn't die, so I was very lucky. I only had my leg get so I can't use it."

"Only that, eh?" Joe mused and seemed intensely interested in the brace. "What a crude conception of efficiency," and when Biddy asked what? he said, "Oh nothing. May I look at that mechanism?"

"You mean my brace?"

"Yes."

Biddy came close and the man concentrated on the brace. Except that Biddy thought he was more interested in her leg. His hands were very gentle and then he looked up suddenly and said, "How would you like to see the things I have inside the cave, child?"

"You can call me Biddy if you want to. My name is Ruth but Biddy's my nickname."

"It's a nice one. Let's go inside."

Joe had a small thing on his shirt and it was only when he reached up and touched it and the door of the cave swung open that Biddy noticed the peculiar way he was dressed. And it was strange, she thought, that she hadn't even seen the tight-fitting silver colored shirt and the pants that were silver too and almost like skin they were so tight to his legs. But even in noticing them now, Biddy didn't say anything because they really weren't strange at all. Not when Joe wore them.

Joe took her hand and led her into the cave. He said, "Now don't be afraid. None of this is made to hurt little girls."

"What's it for?"

"It's called a primary relay station."

"Like our space station?"

"No—not exactly. This station hasn't any guns. At least it hasn't the kind of guns you know about."

"I'm glad. I'm afraid of atom and hydroshells. They kill people and poison them and make them suffer."

"This station doesn't do that. It reaches out into space and brings in all kinds of power. It's a magnet, you might say."

"What are you going to do with the power you bring in, Joe?"

"Now that's a very interesting question." Joe smiled. "Maybe we'll tickle little girls with it."

Biddy laughed. "You're just joking with me."

"No, I'm not. Tell you what we'll do. Suppose I give you a little sample?"

"That would be fun."

---

Joe seemed to be wondering about the machine in the cave with one part of his mind and talking to Biddy with the other. Not wondering exactly, but kind of like Pop when he tried to rig the jeep up to pull the big rock out of the backyard by just turning the back wheels. Pop had done it too. He was smart about making things do the things they hadn't been built to do and Joe looked as though he was trying to do the same thing with his machine.

Joe said, "Why don't you sit right here, Biddy—on this chair. Then we'll take this wire and fasten it there—so—and this one, here."

The wires were very shiny and Biddy thought they must be silver or maybe platinum. Joe gave her one to hold in her left hand and she asked, "When does the tickle start?"

"Right away now." Joe sat down in front of a board covered with switches and dials and studied for a while. Then he said, "Close your eyes, Biddy, and imagine you're far up in the sky—that Buck has wings and he's carrying you clear over the mountains. Just think that and don't open your eyes."

Biddy closed her eyes tight and imagined Buck with great big wings and she laughed in her mind because the wings were bigger than Buck was and he looked back at them and stamped his feet. But they worked and she felt Buck lift her right off the ground and up into the sky. They were really flying.

They sailed ever so far over the desert and over the purple mountains Pop said he'd take her to see some day. It was very peaceful and cool so high up in the air and such a funny feeling in her body. As though going up in the sky was really waking up and like all the people down on the ground were really asleep. So much warmth and feeling and tingley happiness came into her legs and arms and body that she could hardly hold it all. Hardly hold it all—hardly hold it....

"Wake up, Biddy."

Biddy opened her eyes. She was still sitting in the chair but all the wires were gone and Joe was standing there looking down at her and smiling. Biddy said, "Oh, I must have taken a nap."

"That's right. It was good for you. And now you'd better get along home or your parents will be worried about you."

"Why don't you come with me? You can have supper with us."

"Not tonight, Biddy. Some other time."

Biddy got up and they walked hand in hand to where Buck was waiting, Joe walking very slow because with her brace Biddy couldn't go very fast. Joe lifted her onto Buck and she waved good-bye as they went down the slope and away from the rocks. She waved again just as Joe and the cave and the wall went out of sight. She was sorry to see him disappear.

---

She got home a little late—Pop was already home—and Mom was cross. Mom said, "Biddy, if you stay away like this again, I'll just take that burro away from you."

Biddy knew Mom wouldn't of course, but it scared her just the same and she didn't say anything about Joe. That was just as well, she thought, as she washed up for supper. Mom and Pop didn't believe about the cave so they would not believe about Joe either and the nice ride up in the sky on Buck.

Pop was already at the table when Biddy came in and Mom was sitting down. Biddy hobbled across the room and Pop looked up and said, "You mustn't be late again, Biddy."

"I won't Pop."

Pop had looked back down at his food. Then he jerked his eyes up sharply and back to Biddy as she came to her chair and pulled it out and sat down.

Mom was putting potatoes on Biddy's plate and Pop just sat there and stared at her, motionless. He didn't say anything or do anything and finally Mom said, "Dan—what on earth's gotten into you? Something wrong with the meat?"

Pop laid his fork down and said, "Get up, Biddy."

"What, Pop?"

"I said, get up."

"But Pop, I didn't mean to be late. Don't take Buck away from me—please."

Pop frowned and made an impatient motion with his hand. "Oh, stop it! Just get up and walk around the table and let me look at you."

Mom was looking at Pop kind of puzzled as Biddy got up and did as she'd been told. Pop bent over and looked at her brace and her leg. He ran his hand over her leg, his frown getting deeper and his face more bewildered.

Suddenly he picked Biddy up and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Without saying a word, he began unbuckling the brace and he was just lifting it away when Mom came in.

Mom said, "Dan—have you lost your mind?"

Pop gave her a quick, almost savage look and then turned back to Biddy. He picked Biddy up and put her on her feet and said, "Now I want you to walk over to the dresser."

Mom said, "Dan! For heaven's sake."

Pop barked back fiercely. "Can't you see it? Are you blind? Her leg's thicker and bigger. It isn't shorter than the other one anymore!"

Then Biddy walked straight over to the dresser as though there had never been anything wrong with her leg at any time in her short life. She touched the dresser and then took her hand away and laughed and walked back.

Pop bellowed, "Can't you see? Her leg's healed."

And Mom let out a kind of strangled cry and fainted dead away on the bed....

---

Dan Parker sat on a chair facing the lounge where Biddy sat close beside Jane. Dan leaned forward and said, "Now just once more, baby—tell us what the man did."

Jane said, "Dan! The child's exhausted. She's told us everything she knows."

"She might have missed something. He had some sort of a diathermy machine in this cave?"

"What's diathermy, Pop?"

"Never mind that. He fastened some wires from this machine to your leg and after a while you went to sleep. Can't you remember anything else?"

---

Biddy yawned. "Nothing except he was very nice and said he came from the sky bloc."

Jane lifted Biddy in her arms. "I'm going to put her to bed. Nothing can be done until morning anyhow. Poor baby!"

Dan sat staring at the wall until Jane returned. She came and laid a hand on his shoulder and he looked up and his thoughts were suddenly arrested. It was as though Jane had dropped years from her age. The old glow was in her eyes—a soft wonder—a new happiness.

The realization impressed him but was lost to the new anxiety that was swiftly rising in his mind. Jane said, "Isn't it wonderful, darling? I can't understand it, but I've seen Biddy's leg and—and I don't care how it happened. I don't care if the man in the hills is true or a part of her imagination. The cure is real—real—and I've never been so happy."

"I think he's genuine—he has to be—and tomorrow we'll find out about him. But—"

"But what, Dan?"

"I was just thinking—"

Jane sat down on his knee and put an arm around his shoulders. "Dan—you don't seem too happy about it. I don't understand why—"

Dan Parker looked at his wife and said, "There's another angle to it, Jane."

"Another angle?"

"If there is such a man as Biddy describes and he cured her deformity, then he can cure the deformities of others, too."

Jane was puzzled. "I suppose that's true."

"He could cure young Davey Taber."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"I suppose so, but then Davey will take over the foreman's job at the Circle-7—my job."

Jane got up from her husband's knee. There was horror in her look. "Dan, do you mean you'd let so small a thing as that influence you in—?"

Dan Parker sprang up also. "Small? You know we could not get along on a cow hand's salary. We'd starve to death. And I'm no good for anything but ranch work. It's all I know!"

"Dan—please!"

He turned suddenly contrite—somewhat ashamed, but in a way, he stuck to his guns. "Sure—I suppose it's rotten of me to think that way, but I've got you and Biddy to provide for. You two are my responsibility. It may not mean anything to you having people say Dan Parker can't support his family, but it means a lot to me!"

Jane looked at him quietly for a long moment before she said, "Dan, I—I just haven't any words. What you're thinking is almost evil—the way you feel about this—but I can't think of a logical answer or argument to show you where you're wrong. The thing's just—just beyond words."

Dan dropped to the lounge and sat staring at the floor. "I guess I'm a pretty rotten individual."

Jane spoke quietly. "The only thing I can say, darling, is that we'll always get along. We always have."

"Well, I can't do anything about it anyhow. Let's go to bed."

"Of course. You'll feel better in the morning, Dan. By that time you'll realize what's actually happened. Biddy's been made whole. There's been a miracle, darling!"

"That's right—a miracle...."

---

Biddy awoke very early. There was a funny little fluttery fear inside her and she lay for a while trying to find out what it was. There wasn't anything to be afraid of—nothing she could think of. Nobody had—

She sat up and moved both her legs off the bed and put her feet on the floor. Then she remembered that her left one was all right again and she forgot all about hunting for where the fear came from. She was too completely happy to worry about it.

She got out of bed and dressed and tiptoed through the living room, being very quiet. When she got outside there was a faint streak of dawn in the east and she almost laughed aloud at the wonderful feeling that came from the cool, sharp morning air, the dead predawn stillness, and not having to hobble along with the old brace on her leg.

Buck flopped his ears and seemed a little annoyed at having to get up so early but he finally agreed to come out of the corral and take Biddy up to the ridges. Even without any breakfast, so Biddy knew that regardless of his seeming sullenness he felt pretty good too.

Biddy didn't quite get out of town unseen. There was someone else up early too. Cecil Bates came slowly up the main street and as Buck approached him it was light enough for him to look at Biddy and say, "Wait a minute, honey. You forgot something."

"Good morning, Mr. Bates. No, I don't think so."

"Your brace, Biddy. How in hades did you get on that burro without it?"

"Oh, I don't need it any more. A man fixed my leg yesterday."

"A who—did what?"

"A very nice man up in the hills. He has a shiny box and he had me hold some wires and now my leg is all healed up again."

"What man are you talking about?"

"He has a cave up there. At first I thought he was from the Eastern Bloc and was one of our enemies. But he's from space or somewhere and he's very good."

Cecil Bates stared at Biddy's leg and then came close and put his hands on it. Biddy didn't like that very much and she kicked a heel into Buck's ribs and said, "I've got to go now, Mr. Bates. It's going to be a very nice day isn't it? Good-bye."

She rode away leaving the sheriff standing wide-eyed in the middle of the street with his mouth open. As she moved out of town she looked back uneasily, the nameless fear nagging at her again. She had the feeling of having done or said something wrong but she wasn't sure what.

---

The east brightened into fresh dawn as Buck pattered along toward the ridges. Biddy had never been up so early before and she thought it was wonderful but her happiness was dampened a little by the fact that she'd gone off without asking Mom. That was wrong, she thought, and maybe Mom would be angry. But Biddy's thoughts were mainly occupied with wondering why she had done it. She hadn't consciously wanted to deceive Mom, but something she could not really understand had made her sneak off so quietly.

---

The same thing that made her uneasy about telling Mr. Bates what had happened. Then the ridges were close and she could see the rocks and the place the doorway should be. The door was closed and Biddy guessed that Joe didn't get up very early either.

She rode as close as she could and was just about to call out his name when a pair of hands lifted her and swung her off Buck and set her on her feet. And Joe was saying, "Hello there, youngster. Up pretty early aren't you?"

Biddy wasn't even frightened at his appearing that way from nowhere. At least that was how he had seemed to appear. She said, "I woke up and I wanted to come out and thank you for fixing my leg."

"That wasn't necessary."

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Not yet. I was up early too and I was just sitting out here doing some thinking."

"Are you expecting to eat breakfast soon?"

"Right now as a matter of fact. You wait. I'll bring it out."

Joe touched the small thing on his shirt. The cave door opened and he went inside and came out very shortly with a tray that he set down on a rock.

Biddy looked at the tray and said, "That's awfully funny food."

"Funny?"

"Uh-huh. It doesn't look like any kind I ever saw before."

"Well you just try it and see if you don't like it."

Biddy picked up one of the little white sticks and bit off an end. She chewed it warily, then with relish. "It's very good. Where did you get it?"

"I brought it with me."

They ate in silence for a while, then Joe said, "Biddy, what do your mother and father think of the Eastern Bloc?"

Biddy looked up in surprise. "Why they hate it of course. Everybody hates the Eastern Bloc because they're mean and cruel."

"What do the people of your town expect to happen?"

"With the Eastern Bloc?"

"Yes."

"Everybody knows we'll have to fight them someday. We built a space station and so they had to go and build one too and they want to wreck our station so they'll have the only one. And when they do the big war will start."

"And I suppose the Eastern Bloc knows you want to wreck their space station?"

"Why they can't think that because we had one first and we could have stopped them from building one but we didn't because we aren't mean like they are."

"I see." Joe thought that over very carefully for a long time and then all the food on the tray was gone and Biddy said, "What's the sky bloc like, Joe?"

"The sky bloc?"

"That's where you said you came from."

"Oh, yes. Well, it's a little hard to describe. It's very big and I think probably you'd like it if you ever went there."

"Did they send you away?"

"Not exactly. They sent me down here to do something."

"What do you have to do?"

"I have to talk to some people."

"What people do you have to talk to?"

"I'm not quite sure yet. I haven't made up my mind."

"When will you make up your mind?"

---

Joe considered Biddy's questions gravely as though each one was very important. "I'm not quite sure. That machine in the cave isn't just to make little girl's legs well. It does other things. It tunes in on thought waves just the way your television set tunes in on pictures."

"You mean it tells you what people are thinking about?"

"In a way, it does. And after a while I'll look at the things the machine has recorded and then I'll decide what I have to do or say."

There was silence while Biddy's mind went off on another track. Pretty soon she said, "Joe, there's a boy named Davey—well, he isn't a boy, really, he's almost a man—and his leg is like mine was. He can't walk on it either."

"Does he live in Sage Bend?"

"No. He lives on the ranch where my Pop works. I think it would be awfully nice if you fixed his leg too."

"Perhaps I can."

Biddy clapped her hands and looked at Joe through bright eyes. "I think you're wonderful, Joe—just wonderful—and there's old Mr. Haney. He's blind, so maybe you could—"

Joe laughed. "Now wait a minute, Biddy. I'm no miracle man. I can't reconstruct people's minds."

"But Mr. Haney's mind is fine. It's just his eyes that are no good."

"I'm afraid you're wrong about that."

"Do you know Mr. Haney?"

"Not exactly. I've wandered around a little and I met him while he was taking a walk."

"Then you know how bad it is to be blind."

"Yes, but you don't understand, Biddy. I wouldn't be helping Mr. Haney. I'd be hurting him."

"Hurting him?"

"Yes. Mr. Haney is far happier the way he is than if he had his sight back. With his eyes functioning he'd be just like anyone else."

"That's what he wants."

"No he doesn't. Being blind makes him different and he's grown to depend on that difference as a staff of comfort. He lives on the sympathy he gets from people who can see. Mr. Haney doesn't know it himself but he would be very miserable if we gave him back his sight. As I said, Biddy, I can't change people's minds. I'm no miracle man."

"That's what Mom and Pop said happened to me. A miracle. Was that right, Joe?"

"No Biddy. You see where I come from we're a little further ahead in some scientific developments than the people down here. The expansion and reconstruction of bone and tissue isn't very difficult when you know how and have the right sonic frequencies to work with."

"I see," Biddy answered gravely although she didn't see at all. "But what about Davey Taber? He doesn't really want to be crippled does he?"

"I doubt it. Maybe we'll have a chance to see...."

---

The town of Sage Bend was in an uproar. The crowd—if the few dozen persons who resided there could be called a crowd—were milling in front of Dan Parker's house. They had seen some excitement and wanted to see more.

It had started before dawn with Cecil Bates standing alone in the street, watching Biddy ride off. When she had gone beyond his sight, his confusion and consternation fused into a clear-cut thought. He'd be triply damned if that heel Dan Parker hadn't been playing on the sympathy of the town all this time.

Ever since Biddy had been brought back from the hospital in Phoenix. Could you beat it? Putting a brace on a kid's leg and making her wear it around town so people around town would be sorry for him. But why? What end did it serve?

Then Cecil knew. Not the townspeople. Of course not. Sam Taber was the target of Dan's rotten plan. Who'd ever think a man would be so scared of his job he'd make his own daughter act a cripple in order to keep it?

Well, he wouldn't get away with it any longer. Cecil fairly vibrated with the importance he felt within himself at having come upon this secret. He'd show this town. So they thought he was just a slob who sat in front of the jailhouse all day, did they? Just a bouncer to take drunks out of the tavern and sober them up behind bars. He'd show them they had to get up pretty early to get the wool over Cecil Bates' eyes and keep it there.

Nick Sanford was just coming down to open his lunch counter in case any late drinkers wanted an early cup of coffee. Cecil hurried in that direction. Nick unlocked the door and said, "Hi, Ceec. Up early ain't you?"

"Early enough to find out what's been going on around here."

"Something happen?"

"Your damn tootin' something's been happening. Met the little Parker girl riding out on her burro."

"So early? Where was she going?"

"Not important. The important thing was she didn't have her leg brace on."

"Come on in while I make coffee."

Bates followed Nick inside and said, "Didn't you hear me? I said she didn't have her leg brace on."

"Why not?"

"Because she didn't need it. She's never needed it. Her leg's as good as yours or mine."

"You must be joking."

"Did I ever joke, Nick?" Cecil asked tonelessly.

---

Nick had to concede that one. In all the time he'd owned the lunch room, he'd never seen Cecil Bates smile or say a light word. "What did Biddy have to say about it?"

"Oh, she had some gobberish about a man up in the hills making her leg well. Something Dan probably told her to say if she ever got caught."

"That doesn't seem logical. About Dan I mean. I can see why—"

Cecil laid out his ideas on the subject and Nick shook his head. "Can't hardly go along with you on that. Don't figure it makes sense somehow."

"Gimme a cup of that coffee, will you?"

"Okay. So you think it's just been a masquerade all the time?"

"What other answer is there? A spindly, pipe-stem little leg doesn't grow normal overnight."

"But we saw Biddy's deformed leg. All of us."

"I got that figured out too."

"Then tell me."

"Illusion," Cecil said wisely. "A kind of optical illusion. We see a girl limping with a big brace on her leg. We really don't look any further than that. We take it for granted the leg's bad. That's human nature, Nick."

Sanford didn't seem entirely convinced but he didn't argue the point. "Well, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it? I'm going down there and expose that rat. After pulling a slimy trick like that he should be held up for everybody to take a look at."

"I don't know. I'd go a little easy if I were you."

Cecil's native caution perked up at the warning but he found a virtue with which to defend his position. "I'd just be doing my duty—the duty of any citizen. And I'm not going down there to accuse him. I'm just going to ask him about it. I'll keep a completely open mind and listen to what he has to say, the damned rat."

---

Two men entered the lunchroom after coffee and when they'd heard Cecil's story they didn't think much of the "man in the hills" yarn either. In fact, they didn't think at all. As one whispered to the other, "I don't know what the hell this is all about but Ceec is on his horse and there might be some excitement so let's stick around."

The other one yawned. "This stinking town could certainly use some."

Another hour went by before the town really started gathering. Then, with what amounted to a holiday spirit, heightened by the aura of mystery involved, the crowd followed Cecil Bates up the street to Dan Parker's bungalow. And the closer they came, the greater was Cecil Bates' sense of self-importance. Without analyzing, he knew he was happier than he'd been in many years. This was the way a sheriff should act—how the job should be. Walking up the street to investigate rascality with the town coming respectfully along behind. They were depending on him and he wouldn't let them down....

---

Dan Parker was finishing his breakfast. He scowled into his coffee and said, "What did she have to pull a trick like this for? If she doesn't get back I'll have to go look for her. I'll be late to work."

"Why should you have to do that?" Jane asked. "She knows the country. There's nothing to hurt her. She has Buck with her."

"Jane, sometimes I don't understand you. Your own kid wandering around in the desert and it doesn't bother you."

"I don't think it bothers you either. You're more worried about being inconvenienced—being late to work."

"Now listen here—!"

"Oh, Dan! Let's not fight. It makes me a little sick to fight now. Don't you realize that last night something wonderful happened? Something we don't understand but wonderful all the same. Biddy was healed—and here we are the next morning growling at each other like a cat and a dog." Jane ignored the fact that Dan was doing all the growling and added, "Besides, I'm sure she's all right. I—I feel it somehow."

"You feel it! You've gotten almighty sensitive—"

"Dan—please—" Jane stopped suddenly, caught by the sound of pounding feet—the rumble of the crowd. "Someone's coming."

They went out on the front porch and saw the townspeople swarming into the front yard. Cecil Bates was in the forefront with fat little Tom Schultz, the mayor of Sage Bend beside him.

Jane's hands were gripped tight together and her heart was a dead weight in her breast. "What's happened? What's the matter? Have you found Biddy?"

"No, we ain't, Mrs. Parker," Bates said, then turned his words on Dan. "This morning I saw her riding that burro out of town. And I saw something else. She wasn't crippled at all. Never has been. Now we want to know what kind of a shenanigan you're pulling, Dan Parker! Let's have it straight."

Jane said, "It's true—it's true that Biddy's leg has been healed but it was done yesterday by—"

"I know. She gave me that story about a man up in the ridges—something Dan told her to say, prob'ly. But now we want the truth!"

"But you know as much as we do. We've told the truth—as much as we know!"

"Now we ain't as big fools as you think, Mrs. Parker—"

"I tell you we've—"

Dan Parker pushed forward. His eyes were slitted and ugly. "Don't tell him anything, Jane. Not another damned word." Dan pushed close to Bates and the latter fell back a step from his eyes. "I want to ask you just one question—are you calling my wife a liar?"

Bates hesitated and turned to Schultz for help. He had not expected quite this show of belligerence. Schultz refused to become involved however. He said, "Now wait a minute, Ceec. I don't know anything about this. Besides it isn't my job. Mayor here's nothing but an honorary office anyhow." Having stated his case, he backed away also as Dan Parker moved forward and pressed Cecil Bates back against the crowd.

Bates said, "Now look here, Dan, I'm duly constituted law around here!"

"You're a damn snooping busybody and nothing more!"

"I got a right to investigate and find out if the law's been violated. You know there's laws against abusing a child—"

Dan Parker's fist cracked against Bates' half-open mouth. A tooth snapped and Bates kited backward. But he did not go down because there were three men behind him who had come for the excitement. They threw him back into the fray, one of them yelling delightedly, "You going to let him do that, to you Ceec? You're the sheriff. Nobody ought to poke the sheriff around."

Dan swung again, but Cecil Bates dodged and scurried to the side, opening up a space that gave him time to draw his gun. His eyes were cleared of fear now and there was a little sneer on his battered mouth. "All right, Dan! You want to get gunned down? I can do it. Assaulting an officer. And I got witnesses!"

Bates' trigger finger tightened. There would be joy for him in the bullet he aimed. But at that moment someone in the crowd yelled, "You're on his property, Ceec. You got a warrant?"

The statement was thoughtless and by sheer chance but it probably saved Dan Parker's life. It made Bates realize his case might not be considered legally clear in a courtroom.

But he could not bring himself to a complete loss of face. He said, "You're going to jail, Dan. I mean it. One more move and I'll kill you."

This satisfied the volatile elements of the crowd. "Sure! Throw 'im in the can, Ceec! Show 'im who's boss!" By golly! Sage Bend hadn't seen such excitement in twenty years and maybe there'd be more! The two cow pokes who had met Bates in the lunchroom congratulated each other with happy grins. What if they had gone out early and missed all this?

Jane was clinging to Dan's tense arm. "Darling, go with him. Do as he says. It's better than being killed." But his fist remained closed. He was on the verge of pulling away from her when she whispered, "We've got Biddy to think of!"

The fist relaxed and the arm dropped. Dan said, "Okay, Sheriff. Let's go."

As Bates followed Dan down the street toward the jail, his gun held importantly level, there were comments from the crowd. "Pretty cocky for a guy with his neck out.... Acts as innocent as all get-out, don't he?"

The remarks stiffened Cecil's courage. He'd done the right thing all right. The crowd was behind him. They respected him. It wasn't bad being sheriff after all.

His ego rose pleasantly, but only to be knocked flat three minutes later in front of the jail. As the disordered crowd moved up the street, a group of riders—perhaps half a dozen—rounded a building and came into the street at the far end. They moved forward and were waiting in front of the jail when Cecil Bates arrived with his prisoner. Bates lowered his gun and the crowd fell into silence as old Sam Taber sat on a big black in front of his riders and surveyed the scene.

---

Sam Taber had that about him which signified authority even where no authority was vested. He was the kind of man people stopped and looked at. Slim, cold-faced, and gray-eyed, he had at once the manner of an aristocrat and the wary attitude of one who had met suffering and danger along the way and was on the alert for more.

After a full minute of silence, he asked coldly, "What is this?"

Bates said, "I'm arresting this man."

"Why?"

"For resisting me—an officer."

"Why did he resist you?"

"I went to his house to ask him some questions and—"

"And what?"

"He slugged me."

"What questions did you want to ask him?"

"About Biddy—his little girl."

"What did she do—rob the bank?"

Laughter bubbled in the crowd and Cecil Bates had a sudden helpless feeling. "No, Sam. You see I was up real early this morning and—"

More laughter and someone remarked, "Glory be! He was up at dawn looking for law-breakers."

"—I met Biddy Parker riding out on her burro."

Sam Taber waved an impatient hand. "I got the story—what there was of it. One of my men brought it to me this morning. That's why I'm here."

"Then you'll back me up."

Sam Taber rifled a contemptuous look at Bates. "Put that popgun away. You've got no more case than a jackrabbit. I'll ask the questions around here."

The crowd was silent and Cecil Bates stood alone and the humiliation was gall. He holstered his gun muttering, "You got no right to do this Sam. You got no right to make me look foolish."

Taber probably did not hear the words. His eyes leveled over the crowd. "Seems to me the little girl's story bears looking into. But you fools have yourselves a picnic while this unknown man may be pointing all hell at you from out in the ridges."

Bates snatched at the statement. "Say, Sam—you might have something there. That's what I was trying to get at in the first place—"

Taber cut in. "Come on back to your place, Dan. I want to talk to you."

---

The crowd melted away as Sam Taber and his silent riders moved toward it. Sam Taber held the black in and rode beside Dan and Jane Parker as the cavalcade moved up the street. Sam said, "I understand Biddy rode off this morning."

Dan Parker said, "That's right. We were waiting for her to come home so we could—" Dan shrugged. "Then that crazy crowd showed up."

Jane's hand tightened on Dan's arm. "She's home! There's Buck in the corral. She's home, Dan!" And Jane was running on ahead....

"I won't tell you," Biddy said, firmly. She had now analyzed the little fear she'd felt upon awakening that morning. Now she knew the reason for it. With the inherent wisdom of childhood, she knew that the grownups would not understand Joe—would not realize how wonderful he was—better than Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy, and—yes even than Davey Crockett all put together. They wouldn't understand that at all, and the way grownups were, something bad would happen and Joe would be hurt. "I won't tell you, where the cave is or anything more about it."

---

Dan's eyes mirrored annoyance and frustration. "Now listen here, Biddy—I don't want any more of this nonsense—"

Jane put an arm around Biddy's shoulders and drew her close. "I think she's right," Jane said quietly.

Dan flared in surprise. "Well of all the—"

Jane's eyes swept both her husband and old Sam Taber who was sitting quietly on the teetery straight-backed chair, his gray eyes never moving from Biddy. "I'm sick and ashamed at the way things have gone," Jane said. "Last night I saw my daughter come home and walk across this room without need of the brace that had become the horror of my dreams. I saw her made whole and beautiful by some miracle beyond my knowledge and I wanted only to get down on my knees and thank God. I knew only happiness all the long night and then I awoke to—" Jane swept her hand hopelessly, "—to this. A snarling mob. A near murder. A town suddenly filled with hate and a love of lawlessness. Biddy saw none of this and yet she knows that this healer of hers—real or imaginary—would not be thanked for what he did but probably murdered. She knows this and I love her for it." Jane drew Biddy close. "Don't tell them, dear. Don't ever tell them a thing."

Dan Parker stood open-mouthed at his wife's long declaration. Sam Taber got to his feet and his eyes held only admiration. He said, "I understand, Jane. And I agree with you it would be like turning a sheep to a pack of wolves."

"Thank you."

Sam stood looking thoughtfully at his hat as he turned it slowly in his fingers. "Just one thing," he said suddenly. "Would you mind if I examined Biddy's leg?"

Jane was surprised at the sudden turn of his mind but she said, "No, of course not, Sam."

Sam Taber dropped to his knees as Jane slipped off Biddy's little slacks revealing a pair of tight white panties and two perfect legs. Sam raised the left leg gently, like a holy relic and ran gentle fingers down the straight, smooth surface. "The main damage was done above the knee, wasn't it?" Sam asked.

"Yes, the muscles were pinched and destroyed. There was only the bone left—and enough ligament to—"

"Davey's is that way too," Sam said. "But his goes even higher—into the hip." Sam matched the legs gently together and muttered, "I'm trying to believe. I'm trying so damned hard—"

"You shouldn't have to believe, Sam," Jane said.

He looked up at her dully. "No?"

"No, because Davey is your boy."

"Yes—that's true."

"And when one comes to the end of belief there is faith to carry one further."

---

Sam got slowly to his feet and now seemed suddenly weary. He spoke softly as though to himself. "I should not need faith. After all, I've put my finger in the wound—" He looked at Biddy with his characteristic suddenness. "Biddy-baby—perhaps your friend in the ridges—maybe he would—"

Sam stopped, floundering—suddenly out of his depth. All his life he had been a proud man; never in his life had he asked anyone for a favor and even though it was for Davey, he did not know the process of asking.

Perhaps he would have got the words out even then, but before Jane could help him, another fear blocked the way—Dan Parker's fear. In his mind he saw Davey whole and unbroken, riding the saddle Dan Parker now rode. And while he hated his selfishness—recognized it for the evil and the criminal weakness it was—he still instinctively blocked the way—spoke the words that stopped Sam Taber's plea: "I think you'd better lie down a while, young lady. Get some rest. You were out too early this morning."

It was an inconsequential barrier, but enough to straighten Sam Taber—bring his natural coldness to the surface—end his plea. He turned toward the door. "You might as well take the rest of the day off, Dan. Won't be much work done today anyhow. See you tomorrow morning."

Then he was gone; into the black's saddle and leading his quiet riders out of town.

They watched him from the door and Jane said, "That was cruel Dan. And you did it on purpose. I know you did. A boy's life restored against that miserable job of yours."

Dan Parker knew inwardly the shame of his weakness but he hid it behind surliness. "Well, somebody's got to look out for Biddy. You'd be perfectly willing to let things go to hell and then moan because there was no food in the house. Somebody's got to be practical." Dan snatched his hat and without another word headed for the tavern....

---

Art Haney had never had it so good. He chuckled and took another swig from the bottle Cecil Bates offered and thought by God it was about time this town gave a poor blind man a break.

Cecil Bates leaned forward and took the bottle back. He didn't want this old souse to get plastered and thus become useless. He said, "So you met this guy out in the desert, eh, Haney?"

"Sure did. At least it was a stranger because I know every voice in these parts. You see when a man's blind like I am, his sense of hearing gets almighty sharp and you take notice—"

"Yeah, I know. Now he walked along with you and took you to the cave he's got out there?"

"Nope—he didn't take me—well, not very far. I'm no slouch in getting around even if I am blind and nobody ever helps me. I go out in them ridges sometimes just to sort of hear the quiet sounds. You see a blind man—"

"I know—I know. So you were out there and—"

"And he said hello. We got to talking—"

"What about?"

"Oh, just this and that. It was getting almighty hot and I asked him if he could give a poor blind man a little something to drink."

"That was when he took you to the cave."

"Uh-huh. It was only about fifty feet from where I was. He took me inside and gave me a swig of the damndest stuff you ever drank. Had a kick to it, but not like any whiskey you ever drank."

Cecil pushed the bottle into his hand. "Try another belt of this."

Art was highly agreeable. He wiped the neck with a filthy hand and said, "Thank you, Ceec. You're mighty good to a poor helpless blind man."

Bates let him take a fairly long one, then retrieved the bottle. "And you say you can show me the exact spot where this guy's cave is?"

"Sure can. Only—"

"Only what?" Bates scowled and pulled the bottle back as though to keep from wasting any more good liquor.

"Only that it might be kind of rough on you. I'd have to walk it. Wouldn't know where we was going if we drove. And a blind man taps along pretty slow."

"Never mind that," Bates said grimly. "I'll tap right along with you. I'd crawl across the Gila Desert to get that guy. I truly would, Art."

"All right then. Let's get started."

Cecil Bates grinned. He'd show old Sam Taber what the score was; who was sheriff around here and who wasn't; who could go out and bring in a criminal while everybody else talked about it....

---

Davey Taber had special foot controls built into his jeep. This gave him a great deal of freedom—access to all the roads roundabout and to any part of the desert on which a jeep could travel.

Davey was a handsome youth with none of his father's characteristics of leadership. He had a rather long sensitive face with eyes made dark and beautiful from suffering. His hands were the slim delicate hands of an artist.