* * * * *

Abruptly the picture switched to that of a stout red-faced man wearing
the brown uniform of a county peace officer.

"You're the galactic man?" the sheriff asked.

"Yes. My name is Tom Jordan," Jordan said.

"Mine's Berkhammer." It must have been warm in California because the
sheriff pulled out a large handkerchief and mopped his brow. When he was
done with that he blew his nose loudly. "Hay fever," he announced.

"Want to see my credentials?"

"Oh sure, sure," the sheriff hastily replied. He scrutinized the card
and badge that Jordan displayed. After a moment, he said, "I don't know
why I'm looking at those. They might be fakes for all I know. Never saw
them before and I'll probably never see them again."

"They're genuine."

"The deuce with formality," the sheriff said heavily. "There's some kid
around here who thinks he saw that ... that machine you're supposed to
be looking for."

"When was that?" Jordan asked.

"About four hours ago. Here, I'll let you talk to him yourself." He
pulled his big bulk to one side, and a boy and his father walked into
the picture. The boy was red-eyed, as though he had been crying. The
father was a tall, stoop-shouldered farmer, dressed like his son in
plastic overalls.

* * * * *

The sheriff patted the boy on the back. "Come on, Jimmy. Tell the man
what you saw."

"I saw him," the boy said sullenly. "I walked up the highway with him."

Jordan leaned forward toward the screen.

"How did you know who he was?"

"I knew because when he stepped on the ground, he sank into it up to his
knee. He tried to say the ground was soft, but it was hard. I know it
was hard."

"Why did you wait so long to tell anybody?" Jordan asked softly.

The boy looked at him with defiance and dislike in his eyes and kept his
small mouth clamped shut.

His father nudged him roughly in the ribs.

"Answer the man," he commanded.

Jimmy looked down at his shoes.

"Because he asked me not to tell for a while," he said curtly.

"Stubborn as nails," the father said not without pride in his voice.
"Got more loyalty to a lousy machine than to the whole human race."

"Which way did he go, Jimmy?"

"Toward Red Mountain. I think maybe to the power house. He asked me
where it was."

"What do you think he wants with that?" the sheriff asked of Jordan.

Jordan shrugged and shook his head.

"Maybe it's all in the kid's