nned vegetables ... and came away puzzled. No, they hadn't been badly
received. All was politeness and smiles. But there was--well, a sort of
remoteness about these people. The kids went out of sight the minute you
turned into a place. And you just couldn't get close to the grown-ups.
Dark, they were, and heavy-looking. They smiled a lot, jabbering in an
unknown language. They had beautiful white teeth, but no jewelry or
ornaments, such as gypsies might wear. They always appeared pleased that
you brought them something. But on the way home you discovered you still
had your presents, after all.

The best guess as to the number in the tribe (somehow, that seemed the
best way to describe them) was sixty, give or take a few.

The general verdict was expressed by Henderson at the next club
luncheon. "They're odd, but they're hard workers. Darned good thing for
the community."

Miller, the jeweler, agreed vigorously.

"Self-interest," Jerry murmured, "is a wonderful thing."

They turned on him. "They haven't bought a thing from us! And what if
they did?"

"Kidding, boys. I've got something to sell, too." Then Jerry frowned.
"They haven't bought _anything_?"

Around the table, heads shook.

"Probably," Caruso growled, "they wear their hair long, too."

In the laughter, the matter was forgotten.

But Jerry remembered it that night, sitting on the porch of his house.
There must be hundreds of items--tools and nails and hinges and glass
and wire and sandpaper and oil and rope and seed and salt and
sugar--that the tribe needed. How could they--?

There was a step on the path. "You there?" Caruso called.

"Yep."

The barber sat in the other chair, hoisted his feet to the railing. "You
know how kids are."

"Um."

"That boy of mine, he couldn't stand it about Dark Valley. He was out
there with a couple of pals, poking around."

"Yes?" Jerry didn't realize his voice was sharp.

"Oh, no trouble. But the middle fork of the river's started to run
again!"

* * * * *

For a long time after Caruso had gone, Jerry sat with his cold pipe in
his mouth. There were reasonable explanations for every one of the small
oddities that had cropped up with Joe Merklos and his people. But he
couldn't shake a growing feeling of uneasiness.

Jerry went to bed muttering, for he was a man trained to keep emotion
and fact well separate. But the feeling was still with him when he
awoke, and he recognize