*

It seemed an eternity later that there was a voice capable of rousing
him, a familiar voice calling out in anguish, "Ken, Ken--this is your
dad."

He responded, although it was like answering in a dream. "Take care of
them, Dad," he said. "Don't let anything happen to them. A woman and two
children. Tom Doyle's the name--don't forget that, Tom Doyle."

Chapter 17. _Balance of Nature_

He lay between white sheets, and the stench of burning things was
everywhere, in the air that he breathed, in the clean white covers that
were over him. His own flesh seemed to smell of it.

He was not quite sure if he were still in a world of dreams or if this
were real. It was a golden world; the snow-covered ground beyond the
window was gilded with rich, yellow light. He remembered something about
such light that was not pleasant. He had forgotten just what it was.

Maria Larsen stood at the foot of his bed. She smiled as his eyes
opened. "Hello, Ken," she said. "I've been waiting so long. I've been
afraid you'd never wake up."

"Tom Doyle," he said. "Did you find Tom Doyle?"

Maria frowned. "I don't know who you mean!"

"You haven't found his family yet?" Ken cried, struggling to rise in the
bed. "Go and find them right now. I promised Tom Doyle I'd do it."

Maria approached and pushed him gently back upon the pillow, drawing the
covers over him once more. "Tell me about Tom Doyle," she said. "You've
never told me who he is."

It seemed utterly stupid for her not to know, but Ken patiently told
her about Doyle's Service, the best little station in the world, at the
corner of First and Green. "I told Tom I'd take care of them," he said.
"Now go and bring them here!"

"Ken," Maria said, "all the nomads who escaped, and there weren't many,
retreated around the south end of town and picked up the women and
children they'd left there. They moved on south. That was 3 days ago.
We've no idea where they've gone."

Ken tried to rise again against her struggles to hold him down. "They
couldn't have gone so far that a man on horseback couldn't find them!
Why won't you help me? I promised I'd see to it!"

He lay back weakly, covering his face with his arm. "Go and find Tom
Doyle," he said. In detail he described where he had left the man. "You
don't believe what I'm saying. Get Tom Doyle and he'll tell you it's the
truth."

"He wouldn't be there now. All the wounded, including the nomads, have
been moved to homes w