Biddy and the silver man

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.

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

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."

"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.

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

"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."

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.

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?"

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

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."

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."

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

"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?"

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?"

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.

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

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

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.

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?"

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.

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.

"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—?"

"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.

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

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."

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

"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?"

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."

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."

"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."

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

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....

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."

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."

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 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.

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."

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.

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."

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

"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—"

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—"

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

"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!"

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."

"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!"

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."

"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."

"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."

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

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 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?"

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."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

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."

"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."

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

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."

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

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

"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."

"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?"

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?"

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

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

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

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."

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."

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

"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."

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."

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."

"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."

"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!"

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.

"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!"

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.

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."

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."

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—"

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.

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."

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—"

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—"

"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."

"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."

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?"

"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."

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.

He had driven off the Circle-7 toward Sage Bend but when he came within a few miles of the town, he turned away from the road and into the flat desert. There was a strange restless stirring inside him, a hope that was almost akin to pain because he had heard the story of the mysterious man in the ridges and of what had happened to Biddy Parker. If he could only find the man—if the story were only true—if—There were a dozen ifs bouncing through his mind as he wound aimlessly over the hot expanses. If he could only—

He pushed down on the brake and came to a stop as he saw a spot across the waste, his sharp eyes telling him what it was. A small flop-eared burro and a little girl leading it.

Biddy Parker! Davey screamed the jeep into motion and headed in that direction. As the intervening distance lessened; Biddy stopped and waved a welcome.

The jeep came to a halt and Biddy ran toward it. "Look Davey! I can walk! I can run!"

"I heard. Somebody came to the ranch this morning with the story. Dad went into town."

Biddy dropped her own eyes. "I—I wouldn't tell anybody where Joe's cave is, Davey."

"He's the man who fixed my leg. He comes from the sky bloc. He's a wonderful man and I was afraid they meant to hurt him."

Davey had inherited one thing from his father. Pride, and now his face fell as the hope died within him. "Oh, I see. Well, you were probably right. There are some pretty crazy people around these parts. But I'm glad you found him and got cured. It must be pretty nice to walk and run again."

Biddy came quickly forward and laid a hand on Davey's arm. "I didn't mean that I didn't want you to see Joe, Davey. In fact I talked to him about you and he said he might be able to help you too."

"Uh-huh. Joe is just wonderful. We'll go there tomorrow—just me and you and Joe will fix your leg."

Biddy saw the disappointment her words brought. Davey said, "That would be just wonderful."

"You see its quite a long way from here. I came in the opposite direction on purpose in case anybody followed me. I didn't want to lead them to Joe and now it's getting pretty late."

Biddy thought it over very carefully, then suddenly bubbled with the warmth that was a part of her nature. "Davey—we won't wait. We'll go now. It will be way after dark when we get there because I can't leave Buck and he can't go very fast on his short legs, but we'll go anyway and see Joe tonight!"

Biddy shrugged. "Well, I'll be with you and you're an old person so that ought to make it all right."

"Anyhow, let's worry about that later. You make the jeep go real slow and I'll ride beside you. I can make Buck go faster that way."

So the strange little cavalcade started slowly off across the desert. Biddy prattled on as she rode the phlegmatic Buck beside the jeep and Davey's heart sang a song within him, a crazy, ecstatic song: We're looking for Joe. We're riding over the night desert hunting for him. And maybe we aren't the only ones. Maybe everybody in the world is stumbling through the darkness looking for Joe. What Davey's heart was saying made little sense to his mind. But he did not question its source. He was only twenty-one and not a wise philosopher so he completely over-looked the wisdom of his instinct....

Cecil Bates sat in the Sage Bend tavern celebrating his luck and preparing for his triumph. This preparation consisted of spreading the word because his very nature demanded witnesses or there would be no triumph at all.

"Sure do." Cecil emptied his shot glass and tapped his forehead with a knowing finger. "Used my head. Used my head, I did."

"Almost as close as I am to you. Now nobody'd think a blind man could do a thing like that—nobody but a man who uses his head like I do."

"You sure are smart Ceec. You say you actually saw the machine he's going to blow us up with?"

"Not us, I don't think. I think the rat's after our space station. Now what better spot could they pick? Visibility clear as a bell out here—"

The voice of a more logical hanger-on came from somewhere in the greatening group. "But it doesn't make sense to come over here to do it. Too risky. They've got deserts over there—just as good visibility."

Cecil was annoyed. Always some guy goofing things up. "Is that so? Well listen to me. Just what in the hell do you know about the mechanics of space-fire and locations and—and things? Seems to me you take a mighty lenient view of things in general mister. It sure does."

"Then keep your trap shut." Cecil Bates glanced around. Plenty of people here now. Quite a crowd. "Me—I'm going out and get him. I'll have him back in town in an hour. We'll show those rats we got pretty alert law around here."

"Sure am." Bates got up and walked importantly toward the door. There, he stopped and turned. "Course, if a body of citizens tagged along to see how justice works, I guess there's nothing I could do about it." He grinned and winked.

A shout of approval went up and last drinks were hurriedly slopped down and additional quickies ordered. Then they followed Cecil Bates out into the street, moving with drunken anticipation of excitement.

They streamed out of town behind Cecil Bates' car, not stopping to get other cars or mount horses for fear of being left behind. There was no danger of that however. Bates was not eager to face the strange man in the cave without some show of force in his wake so he traveled slowly enough for all to follow....

Dan and Jane Parker stood on their porch watching the town empty out into the desert. Jane said, "Dan! You must do something. They're—they're dangerous!"

"Bates is a slovenly, dishonest—hoodlum. You know that Dan. They'll do something out there—"

"What? What will they do? Bates is just going out to arrest that man for questioning and I think he's got a right to do it."

Jane Parker looked at her husband in new surprise. There was something in her face that had never been there before. A look he would have done well to heed. She said, "Dan—I just don't understand you any more. This isn't you. There's an—an evil coming into you."

"That's nonsense. Just because I won't stick my nose into the sheriff's business—"

"At least do this for me, Dan. Go out and tell Sam Taber what's happening. If Sam refuses to act, then I'll be satisfied. But go and tell him."

Dan Parker's mouth twisted in anger and helpless frustration. "So you think Sam Taber's a better man than your husband? So you have more respect for him than you have for me?"

"I'm afraid I do—at the moment." Jane spoke quietly and there was a distant regard in her eyes. "Will you go, Dan? Or will I?"

Jane stood in the yard watching the tail light of the jeep fade off toward the Circle-7. There was a stark misery in her heart—a bleak unhappiness she had never before known. "It's not Dan—not Dan at all!" she whispered fiercely. Then she ran back to the porch and sat down on the steps and began to cry.

But not for long. She came erect suddenly. Biddy was not home yet! She was out there in the desert. A drunken mob was moving out there somewhere. With a choked cry, Jane Parker ran off into the night. After a while she began calling—"Biddy—Biddy baby—where are you? Where are you?"

Joe had heard the sounds of the approaching crowd. He came from the cave where he had just got the report of zero-minute two hours away and waited in front of the cave. He looked up into the heavens from where, very shortly, a small, dark ship would arc in and settle quietly down.

The headlights of the car leading the crowd cut two paths through the night and he stepped out into their radiance. Instantly an unpleasant voice barked, "You there! Stand still. Don't move. I've got you covered."

From curiosity rather than fear, Joe remained where he was. The voice and the harsh discordant vibrations from the crowd in the background fascinated him. What sort of a demonstration was this? What strange primitive motivations generated the black aura about these people?

A scowling figure emerged from the gloom and peered over his shoulder into the cave. "What you got in there?"

The mob was straining forward to hear and a baleful silence waited to be broken by Joe's answer. "From the Galaxy—well, the Galaxy Capital I suppose you'd call it."

"Is that so? Well, I'm not as stupid as you think, buster. You've snuck in here from the East somewhere. You've been pretty damn clever, but no Eastern fifth column is going to get a foothold in my territory. You come along with me. You got some questions to answer."

An ugly tremor went through the crowd. It raced from drunk to drunk and influenced even the sober. Fear mixed with panic.

Cecil Bates expanded under the reflection of these revelations. He'd shown them all right. He'd brought them out here and shown them what was going on and what he was going to do about it. He said, "All right—come on you—into the car and right down to the jail house."

As Joe hesitated, four men came out of the crowd. "You heard what he said. Get going," and they laid rough hands on Joe and carried him bodily away.

But they did not stop at the car. The raucous-voiced leader of the group yelled, "Don't worry, Ceec. We'll get him there for you. Don't need no car. We know where the jail is!"

The spark was touched off—the thought suggested—by a blurred voice from the crowd. "We don't need no jail house. What we need's a rope!"

Laughter—ugly laughter—and other suggestions: "There's the tree by Indian Head Rock. About big enough to hold a rat his size."

More drunken laughter but laced now with viciousness and excitement. Shouts and curses rising into a steady roar. A lynch mob.

Cecil Bates never quite knew how it happened. He made no resistance because he lacked the courage and he was afraid to defend the prisoner. After all, he rationalized—when he saw how things were going—these were the people, the taxpayers, the hard core of the country. They had an instinct for knowing when swift action was necessary. And by gosh, when it was time, they acted!

But he realized these were only weak alibis for his own impotence and that he was held helpless by his fear, his inner rottenness, his lacking of stature as a man.

And when they took the stranger and hung him to the tree by Indian Head Rock, Cecil Bates looked himself in the face for the first time in his life and was sickened by what he saw. He screamed at himself—do something. For God's sake don't let this happen. That man hanging there is you. When he dies you've come to the end of your rope too. But there's still time. Do something. Stop them.

But the weakness he had nourished and fed within himself for so long would not let him raise his voice or his gun. And he stood alone with his sickness watching the body of the stranger twirl gently at the end of the rope someone had brought along just in case....

Sam Taber and his riders prowled the dark desert and the desert was a big place after sundown. Finally he pulled up and said, "I can't figure this thing out. Bates must have used a car. Why can't we see the headlights?"

"Maybe he turned them out so as to slip up on the man in the dark." This from one of the men in his group; men who obeyed orders and seldom spoke.

"With the whole town and half the county tailing along behind him? I think not."

Sam's gray eyes pierced the night. "Sure. That's Bates. We swung in the wrong direction. Should have gone to Sage Bend and started from there."

They swept across the desert, thundering up a dust cloud that hung in the night behind them. Rode until sight of a terrible thing sent a chill down Sam Taber's spine; sight of a man hanging from a rope against the glare of a car's headlights; a silhouette of savagery that killed the last faint hope in Sam Taber's breast; the last hope for a crippled son.

Sam fought to control himself as he and his men rode silently, gently, into the lighted circle. He struggled there in the saddle with the red rage that tried to flare up from the stormy heart of him; the uncontrollable anger he had fought all his life and thought he had conquered. The mob was now looking at its handiwork in silence, each member wishing himself somewhere else.

The roaring in Sam Taber's ears drowned this silence as he reined up and one of his men rode close to the turning body. The man's hand went out. He said, "Too late, boss. We're too late."

Taber sat like a dead man for a full minute. Then his rage broke its bounds and flooded out through his eyes and his throat across the desert. "Take them!" he bellowed. "Take every last rotten mother's son of them! Lash the swine down! Cut them to pieces!"

He stood up in his stirrups and bent forward and lashed out with his quirt. Without question his riders went into action. Quirts rose and fell, slashed and cut. Screams and bellows and curses arose on the dark desert as the shadowy avengers moved into their bloody work.

The mob broke to run bellowing and screaming in all directions. There was no leadership now, no courage to rally them for a stand against their tormentors. The only thought was to get away from the slashing quirts; to run off into the desert and hide like squealing rats in the blackness of a safe hole. To find sanctuary.

But just in the middle of the terrible savagery, a cry went up from one of the riders. "Hey. Over there! The boss! He's down!"

The riders turned from their work and converged upon the indicated spot where Sam Taber hung limp in his saddle and was just ready to slip from his mount's back. They spied him just in time.

Two of the riders cut skillfully in and caught the lolling body. "What's wrong, boss? One of 'em get you?"

Taber's reply was tortured, throaty. "Heart. Heart's gone—bad. Can't—breathe. Done—all done."

So, as quickly as it had come the avenging force moved back into a group and thundered away. Cecil Bates had got to his car during the melee and rammed it in panic through the crowd and off into the desert. The mob itself had melted like tallow in a blast furnace.

And now there was nothing—no one from the rising moon to see except the still body of Joe hanging from the tree beside Indian Head Rock....

Biddy Parker kicked a heel into Buck's flank and said, "Davey—the light's gone out now. I wonder what it was. It wasn't the moon."

"No, the moon's coming up over there. Probably somebody parking in a car and then they drove on."

The moon came up in desert splendor and the landscape brightened. The rocks threw shadows and for all purposes it was the light of day.

Shadows of rocks. And another shadow as Biddy and Davey approached the place. The shadow of—Biddy reached over and touched Davey's arm. "Look—Davey! Do you see—?"

"I see it. A—a man! He's hanging from the tree there, Biddy. He's killed himself—or somebody has—"

"But nobody is around. I wonder who it is." Biddy's heels beat a veritable tattoo on Buck's little flanks and the burro went into a reluctant trot. Closer they came, closer, until Biddy cried, "Davey—Davey—it's Joe hanging there!"

Biddy slid off Buck and ran to the tree. She could just reach the waist of the hanging figure. She began to cry and turned a streaming face to Davey. "I—I can't help him! I can't even reach! There's nothing I can do!"

"And I'm helpless too!" Davey had tears in his eyes too—tears of anger as he reached for his two canes and tried to struggle from the jeep.

Davey stopped. "Wait a minute, Biddy. Do you think you could climb the tree and go out on the limb and cut the rope?"

"Skin up that tree. I'll swing the jeep around under him. It will break the fall and then we'll take him to a doctor. Hurry."

Davey backed the jeep in under the body while Biddy climbed resolutely carrying the knife between her teeth. She got a little dizzy but she closed her eyes and when she had wriggled far enough out on the limb, she cut at the rope until it separated.

At that moment, two things happened. The body fell heavily into the back seat of the jeep and the car itself went completely dead. The motor died, the lights faded slowly and the glow of the moon illuminated the scene.

As Biddy climbed down from the tree, Davey kicked again and again at the starter. There was no sign of life in the battery. Biddy came to the car and Davey stared at her blankly. "Something happened to the car. Even the starter won't turn over."

Davey pressed the pedal and finally gave up. "It's no use. The crate's letting us down when we need it most."

"I don't know. I just know that's where he'd want to go and we've got to get him there."

"I suppose it's the best place. Nobody in Sage Bend would help him I'll bet. They're—"

"You can ride Buck too. Pop says a burro is one of the strongest animals there is. And it isn't far. Hurry. You've got to help me."

Somehow they pulled and tugged the body onto the back of the sleepy burro. Then Davey clambered on, balancing precariously on the animal's hips. Biddy took the reins and pulled Buck into movement and the strange cavalcade moved off across the desert.

Half an hour later, Biddy cried, "There's the cave and some people are there. And they've got lights."

Davey was craning his neck. "Look—look at that funny looking thing. It's—it's a ship of some kind."

As they crawled slowly up the hill toward the rocks, they saw great activity. There were half a dozen young men moving from the strange ship into the cave and back again. As Buck came into the circle of light, two of the men came forward.

They gave the body hanging limply over Buck's back their entire attention. They spoke to each other in some strange language and then the rest of the group were crowding about.

"We found him hanging from a tree," Biddy said a little fearfully, but they paid no attention to her.

They lifted the body from the burro and held it partially erect. After a short conference one of the men hurried to the ship and returned with a small tube that somewhat resembled a fire extinguisher. He pointed it at Joe's chest and pressed a button and a thin blue flame crackled as it seemed to penetrate the flesh.

In a matter of seconds, Joe coughed, opened his eyes, and was standing without help. One of the men, frowning slightly, snapped a question in the strange language. He spoke at the same moment Biddy ran forward and cried, "Oh, Joe! You're all right. You aren't dead! We found you hanging there but I knew you were still alive. I just knew it!"

Joe smiled at her and laid a hand on her head. He ignored the other men, giving Biddy his attention as he said, "I'm a lot harder to kill than you would imagine."

Davey had struggled forward on his crutches. He said, "But how on earth could you have lived? That strangling rope around your neck—"

"As a matter of fact, Davey, the rope didn't hurt me at all. It was something else. I was knocked out completely by the chaotic vibrations flowing from the crowd that hung me to that tree. I'd have come around soon."

The young man who had spoken would not be put off. He was respectful but insistent as he said, "We threw out the power block. It has been in effect for almost an hour. The time has come for you to speak and then we must take off."

For some reason he had spoken in English and Joe answered in kind. "All right. Let's get it over with."

Joe's face was grave. "I'm not. I've learned a few things since I set down here." He turned to Biddy and Davey. "Would you like to come inside?"

He accompanied his pace to that of Davey and when they were inside he seated them near the shining box and then took his own seat in front of the control panel. And while the others stood back with their arms folded, he turned several dials and then spoke into a screened speaker in the machine.

"People of the world—for the last hour your planet has not been functioning. All mechanical means of transportation has been at a standstill. Your electric currents from pole to pole have ceased their flow. Your homes have been dark. This inaction stems from a force-barrier we have thrown up around your planet. As a result, your generators have stopped producing electricity—"

Biddy's eyes were like saucers as she nodded—not understanding, but fascinated by Joe and his cold, grim manner. He went on. "This was done for two reasons—to demonstrate a small segment of our power, and to bring you to your receiving sets. They are no doubt all turned on as you wait for their silence to be broken."

Joe rubbed an unconscious hand across his throat and paused for a moment. "I am breaking that silence now. I represent a council of planets beyond your solar system and I have been sent here to give you an ultimatum. We have watched you for a long time—watched with sympathy and complete good will as you struggled upward through your evolutionary periods. We liked much of what we saw, sympathizing with you in your mistakes and rejoicing with you in your successes.

"Then we saw your scientific development outstrip your moral advancement and your sense of responsibility. We watched you fight in caves with clubs and stones—with bows and arrows—with gun powder and atomic fission. And always we hoped your hostility would give way to common sense and mutual respect if not mutual love.

"But this did not happen. Each new discovery you made was qualified through a single question: How many more will it kill at a time? You moved out into space with your man-made stations and we hoped that finally you would awaken and your hostilities fade into history."

Joe's face was sad under its grimness as he paused to choose his words and tension rang through the cave. "But no—you ran true to your basic hateful pattern. You fought in your caves and on your seas and in your seas—on your land and under your land. And now you propose to carry your stupid useless wars out into space. I have come to tell you that this, you will not do.

"Up to this point, you have endangered only yourselves but now the balance of the galaxy can be tipped by your madness and this we will not tolerate. I care not who is right or who is wrong in your disputes. I do not look upon you as a divided world, I look upon you as a single indivisible planet and looking thus—this I say to you."

Joe took a deep breath and plunged grimly on. "If one of your space stations attacks the other for any reason whatsoever, both will be destroyed. And in this destruction your planet will also vanish. It will be obliterated completely as we have no intention of leaving a dangerous dead hulk floating through space. It and you and possibly your whole solar system will go at once because—no matter what your opinions on the subject are, let me tell you this—you are expendable—your planet is expendable—your solar system is expendable—and on the day after obliteration—you will not even be missed."

Joe turned in his chair and Biddy thought he looked awfully tired. Then he said, "And now if you have any doubts go out, wherever you are, and look up into the blessed skies God gave you—" Biddy watched the sadness in Joe's eyes and heard him speak as though to children. "—the skies we will take away from you unless you grow up and behave yourselves."

With that, he snapped off a switch with a quick movement and turned. He said, "Go outside and ready the ship for takeoff. You go with them, Biddy." He looked at Davey and added, "Leave the lad with me for a few minutes."

Joe's instructions were not questioned and a few moments later she was outside with the young men gazing in wonder at the sky. Everything was lighted up like the Fourth of July. But bigger—much bigger. From every horizon giant lights of all colors were shooting up to meet overhead. All the colors of the rainbow and some Biddy had never seen. "It's—it's beautiful!" she gasped.

One of the young men smiled without humor. "Let's hope a second display is never necessary." With that he hurried away with the others and there was great activity around the ship. Then Joe came out—just as the colors overhead were dying—and gave a signal and the men entered the cave. Pretty soon they came out and all the mechanism and the big shining box were floating along behind them—floating through the air—as they were pulled toward the ship by thin lines of metal rope.

In no time Joe was walking with Biddy toward the loaded ship, holding her small hand in his. He stood by the port and said, "I think maybe things will be all right, child. I hope so, because there must be many like you and Davey. There must be sane reason left on this mad planet."

"Yes, Biddy." He smiled and kissed her and said, "Tell Buck good-bye for me. Davey is in the cave." He entered the ship and the port closed and Biddy didn't see it take off at all. It just seemed to evaporate—to vanish. But then, her eyes were misty with tears and she thought she might have missed the take off. She turned and walked slowly toward the cave. Slowly because she knew of course that Davey would be all right....

Davey Taber stood on two fine straight legs in the Parker living room looking out the window over a silent, subdued Sage Bend. He turned and said, "Dad will have to be very careful from now on. He will be in bed for a long time and then in a wheelchair, so I'm taking over the Circle-7."

"I'm sorry about your father," Jane said. "I'm sorry for the people, for—" she glanced at Dan Parker seated beside her and no more words would come.

"I want you to stay on, Mr. Parker. In fact I want you to take more responsibility. I'll need a wise experienced head and I'm afraid I'd be lost without you."

"Wait a minute," Dan said quietly. "There are some things I have to tell you—some things you've got to know so you'll understand why I can't stay at the Circle-7."

And while Davey listened in silence, Dan told the whole story of his fears and actions and weaknesses. He did not spare himself and the telling took quite a while. When he finished there was silence. And something more. Jane's hand had crept toward his and now she held it tight and smiled proudly as she looked into his eyes.

Davey regarded them in silence for a few moments, then spoke quietly but without smiling. "That's all you have to say?"

"I asked because I want it over and done with—and forgotten here and now. I'll expect you at the ranch in the morning. I have other plans, too. We'll build you a house out there so you won't have to run back and forth. Dad should have done that long ago."

"But nothing." Davey smiled now—at Biddy. "I've got an ulterior motive. I want Biddy around all the time because we've got a lot of talking to do."

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Biddy and the silver man

BIDDY AND THE SILVER MAN

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