esent dust of the plains.

A farm truck turned onto the side-road and moaned away, its driver
hardly glancing at the dark young man who sat swaying on his duffle bag
near the culvert. Hogey scarcely noticed the vehicle. He just kept
staring at the crazy sun.

He shook his head. It wasn't really the sun. The sun, the real sun, was
a hateful eye-sizzling horror in the dead black pit. It painted
everything with pure white pain, and you saw things by the reflected
pain-light. The fat red sun was strictly a phoney, and it didn't fool
him any. He hated it for what he knew it was behind the gory mask, and
for what it had done to his eyes.

* * * * *

With a grunt, he got to his feet, managed to shoulder the duffle bag,
and started off down the middle of the farm road, lurching from side to
side, and keeping his eyes on the rolling distances. Another car turned
onto the side-road, honking angrily.

Hogey tried to turn around to look at it, but he forgot to shift his
footing. He staggered and went down on the pavement. The car's tires
screeched on the hot asphalt. Hogey lay there for a moment, groaning.
That one had hurt his hip. A car door slammed and a big man with a
florid face got out and stalked toward him, looking angry.

"What the hell's the matter with you, fella?" he drawled. "You soused?
Man, you've really got a load."

Hogey got up doggedly, shaking his head to clear it. "Space legs," he
prevaricated. "Got space legs. Can't stand the gravity."

The burly farmer retrieved his gin bottle for him, still miraculously
unbroken. "Here's your gravity," he grunted. "Listen, fella, you better
get home pronto."

"Pronto? Hey, I'm no Mex. Honest, I'm just space burned. You know?"

"Yeah. Say, who are you, anyway? Do you live around here?"

It was obvious that the big man had taken him for a hobo or a tramp.
Hogey pulled himself together. "Goin' to the Hauptman's place. Marie.
You know Marie?"

The farmer's eyebrows went up. "Marie Hauptman? Sure I know her. Only
she's Marie Parker now. Has been, nigh on six years. Say--" He paused,
then gaped. "You ain't her husband by any chance?"

"Hogey, that's me. Big Hogey Parker."

"Well, I'll be--! Get in the car. I'm going right past John Hauptman's
place. Boy, you're in no shape to walk it."

He grinned wryly, waggled his head, and helped Hogey and his bag into
the back seat. A woman with a sun-wrinkled neck sat rigidly beside the
farmer