where Julia, the girl who had
become Billy's foster-mother, was preparing to go to the new camp.

It was the second time for him to see Billy that morning. The first time
Billy had still been stunned with grief, and at the sight of his
grandfather he had been unable to keep from breaking.

"The Gern hit her," he had sobbed, his torn face bleeding anew as it
twisted in crying. "He hurt her, and Daddy was gone and then--and then
the other things killed her----"

But now he had had a little time to accept what had happened and he was
changed. He was someone much older, almost a man, trapped for a while in
the body of a five-year-old boy.

"I guess this is all, Billy," Julia was saying as she gathered up her
scanty possessions and Irene's bag. "Get your teddy bear and we'll go."

Billy went to his teddy bear and knelt down to pick it up. Then he
stopped and said something that sounded like _"No."_ He laid the teddy
bear back down, wiping a little dust from its face as in a last gesture
of farewell, and stood up to face Julia empty-handed.

"I don't think I'll want to play with my teddy bear any more," he said.
"I don't think I'll ever want to play at all anymore."

Then he went to walk beside her, leaving his teddy bear lying on the
ground behind him and with it leaving forever the tears and laughter of
childhood.

* * * * *

The overcast deepened, and at midafternoon dark storm clouds came
driving in from the west. Efforts were intensified to complete the move
before the storm broke, both in his section of the camp and in Lake's.
The shelters would be of critical importance and they were being built
of the materials most quickly available; dead limbs, brush, and the
limited amount of canvas and blankets the Rejects had. They would be
inadequate protection but there was no time to build anything better.

It seemed only a few minutes until the black clouds were overhead,
rolling and racing at an incredible velocity. With them came the deep
roar of the high wind that drove them and the wind on the ground began
to stir restlessly in response, like some monster awakening to the call
of its kind.

Prentiss knew already who he wanted as his other subleader. He found him
hard at work helping build shelters; Howard Craig, a powerfully muscled
man with a face as hard and grim as a cliff of granite. It had been
Craig who had tried to save Irene from the prowlers that morning with
only an ax