jar of candy--Elvin
shuddered.

The party broke up and Elvin went to his room. He hung his suit
carefully at the back of his closet to preserve the creases and thereby
cut down on his cleaning bill. After five years of living on a teacher's
salary, such economies had become second nature with him. He brought out
his blue serge and hung it on the door; it was the suit he would wear
next week to school.

Saturday dawned crisply sunny. Elvin shaved and dressed leisurely.
Through the dormer windows of his room he saw the rich, black fields
that surrounded the ranch house and the distant ridge of misty mountains
beyond the desert, one or two of them crested with snow.

* * * * *

The Schermerhorns, of course, were already awake and busy. Elvin heard
the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. He saw the twins, David and
Donald, tall and muscular in their tight jeans and brilliant plaid
shirts, working in their shop back of the garage. Pop Schermerhorn was
in conference with a score of day laborers clustered around the
half-dozen tractors in the drive. Through the open garage door Elvin
could see the Schermerhorn Cadillac, the station wagon, and the red
Convertible that belonged to the twins.

The scene could be duplicated, with minor variations, on any day of the
week. Elvin always resented the Schermerhorn prosperity, even though Pop
Schermerhorn had been kind enough to offer him board and room when it
was obvious the family did not need the additional income.

Elvin never allowed himself to forget that the Schermerhorns owned one
of the largest ranches in the valley as well as the feed store in San
Benedicto and a half-interest in the bank. Yet Pop Schermerhorn actually
boasted that he had never gone past the eighth grade in school, and his
kids were fortunate to be considered mentally normal. Elvin had the
twins in class; he knew the limits of their ability. Donald had an I.Q.
of 89, David of 85.

Yet such a family literally rolled in money, while Elvin was like a
slum-dweller staring emptily into a crowded shop window.

Matt Henderson turned in from the main highway as Elvin finished
breakfast. He joined the reporter and they walked out to the field
beyond the irrigation ditch. In daylight the terrain was very different.
Elvin backtracked over the same ground several times before it dawned on
him that he could not locate the rocket.

Perspiration beaded his face. That was impossible!