hammer of the gun and fought to
control himself.

The man reached the bottom of the pile and turned around to face
him. The general saw that he was hugging something tightly to his
chest.

"Mister," the general told him, "your explanation better be a good
one. That was a brand-new car. And this was the first time I was
set for a night of sleep since my tooth quit aching."

The man just stood and looked at him.

"Who in thunder are you?" roared the general.

The man walked slowly forward. He stopped at the bottom of the
stoop.

"My name is Wesley Adams," he said. "I'm--"

"Wesley Adams!" howled the general. "My God, man, where have you
been all these years?"

"Well, I don't imagine you'll believe me, but the fact is...."

"We've been waiting for you. For twenty-five long years! Or,
rather, _I've_ been waiting for you. Those other idiots gave up.
I've waited right here for you, Adams, for the last three years,
ever since they called off the guard."

Adams gulped. "I'm sorry about the car. You see, it was this
way...."

The general, he saw, was beaming at him fondly.

"I had faith in you," the general said.

He waved the shotgun by way of invitation. "Come on in. I have a
call to make."

Adams stumbled up the stairs.

"Move!" the general ordered, shivering. "On the double! You want
me to catch my death of cold out here?"

Inside, he fumbled for the lights and turned them on. He laid the
shotgun across the kitchen table and picked up the telephone.

"Give me the White House at Washington," he said. "Yes, I said the
White House.... The President? Naturally he's the one I want to
talk to.... Yes, it's all right. He won't mind my calling him."

"Sir," said Adams tentatively.

The general looked up. "What is it, Adams? Go ahead and say it."

"Did you say _twenty-five_ years?"

"That's what I said. What were you doing all that time?"

Adams grasped the table and hung on. "But it wasn't...."

"Yes," said the general to the operator. "Yes, I'll wait."

He held his hand over the receiver and looked inquiringly at
Adams. "I imagine you'll want the same terms as before."

"Terms?"

"Sure. Recognition. Point Four Aid. Defense pact."

"I suppose so," Adams said.

"You got these saps across the barrel," the general told him
happily. "You can get anything you want. You rate it, too, after
what you've done and the bonehead treatment you got--but
especially for not selling out."

XII

The