_ had almost said that
she might come home, too. He touched the buzzer.

Not looking too completely dishevelled himself, he stood there, as a
girl--briskly early in dress and impulse, so as not to waste the bright
morning--opened the door.

"Yeah, Nance--me," he croaked apologetically. "Ramos has reached Pluto!"

"I know, _Frankie_!" she burst out.

But his words rushed on. "I've been goofing off--by Hickman's Lake. Over
now. Emotional indigestion, I guess--from living too big, before I could
take it. I figured you _might_ be here. If you weren't, I'd come...
Because I know where I belong. Nance--I hope you're not angry. Maybe
we're pulling together, at last?"

"Angry--when I was the first fumbler? How could that be, Frank? Oh, I
knew where you were--folks found out. I told them to leave you alone,
because I understood some of what you were digging through. Because it
was a little the same--for me... So, you see, I didn't just tag after
you." She laughed a little. "That wouldn't be proud, would it? Even
though Joe and Two-and-Two said I had to go bring you back..."

His arms went tight around her, right there on the old porch.
"Nance--love you," he whispered. "And we've got to be tough. Everybody's
got to be tough--to match what we've come to. Even little kids. But it
was always like that--on any kind of frontier, wasn't it? A few will get
killed, but more will live--many more..."

Like that, Frank Nelsen shook the last of the cobwebs out of his
brain--and got back to his greater destiny.

"I'll buy all of that philosophy," Nance chuckled gently. "But you still
look as though you needed some breakfast, Frank."

He grinned. "Later. Let's go to see Paul, first. A big day for
him--because of Ramos. Paul is getting feeble, I suppose?" Nelsen's face
had sobered.

"Not so you could notice it much, Frank," Nance answered. "There's a new
therapy--another side of What's Coming, I guess..."

They walked the few blocks. The owner of the Hobby Center was now a
long-time member of KRNH Enterprises. He had the means to expand and
modernize the place beyond recognition. But clearly he had realized that
some things should not change.

In the display window, however, there gleamed a brand-new Archer Nine,
beautiful as a garden or a town floating, unsupported, under the
stars--beautiful as the Future, which was born of the Past.

A Bunch of fellas--the current crop of aficionados--were inside the
store, making lots of noi