serve by the obvious sincerity of his grief.

He led them back to the picnic grove. The tablecloth with the food on it
was still there, untouched. One of the cows was grazing beside it.

They listened while he told again of his mother and Curt vanishing
before his eyes. Their reserved skepticism was thrust out of their minds
when he identified himself as the son of Dr. Martin Grant, who had
disappeared.

They used their car radio. In a surprisingly short time several other
cars were coming through the gate into the pasture.

Fred, his mind paralyzed with grief, stood forlornly near the Cadillac.
He answered the questions they put to him. He wasn't aware of the news
cameras that took shots of him which were to appear in the evening
papers all over the country.

Eventually it was over. The police gathered up the picnic lunch, his
mother's purse, and everything else. A gray-haired man in a dark brown
suit who introduced himself as Captain Waters told him to get into the
Cadillac. "I'll drive," Waters said.

Entirely submissive, Fred obeyed. On the way into town Captain Waters
said he would take Fred home if he wanted to go there, but it would be
really better if he accepted an invitation to stay at the Waters home
for a few days until things were straightened out.

"All right," Fred said.

Eternities later he was in a house with comfortable furnishings. A
motherly old lady was hovering around him. Captain Waters was on the
phone calling someone.

There was a steaming dinner on blue design Swedish dishes. Under coaxing
Fred nibbled. Door chimes sounded. Captain Waters pushed back his chair
and went away. He came back with another gray-haired man who pressed a
thumb against Fred's cheek, listened to words Captain Waters was saying,
then ordered Fred to roll up his sleeve.

He swabbed a spot with alcohol and inserted a hypo needle. Fred watched
with listless eyes.

"Get him undressed and to bed," the doctor said. "Poor kid. Suffering
from shock. Have to watch him the next few days...."

_Shock_.... Fred tried to concentrate on the meaning of the word.

The bed was an enormous expanse of fresh smelling sheets and luxurious
blankets. The pillows were mountainous ... and so soft....

The sun was streaming in through open French doors, filtered through
bronze screen doors. An electric clock on the dresser pointed at
eleven.

He lay there without moving, remembering everything that had happened
the day before. A