Neil heard Singing Rock’s words, but he didn’t turn around. He looked out over the small yard that, until last week, had been his plain but happy home. With a feeling that brought tears to his eyes, he noticed that Toby had left his Tonka bulldozer out by the woodshed. He would have been annoyed normally, in case it rained and the bulldozer got rusty. But now it didn’t matter. Toby was never going to play with it again. It might as well stay there.

Inside the house, the telephone was ringing. He guessed it was probably Mr. Saperstein, but somehow he couldn’t summon the energy to move from where he was. He heard Harry go inside and bang the kitchen door. His senses seemed to be dulled, and all he wanted to do was find a bed someplace and go to sleep.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he was sure he could see something wavering in the grass beyond the fence. He peered more intently, and shaded his face against the dull, coarse light that filtered through the heavy clouds. There was something out there that was shifting and flapping like a pale transparent flag. Then it began to grow clearer, an instant photograph developing on plain paper. It was the figure of Dunbar, in his wide-brimmed hat and his coat, and with his gun belt slung low around his hips.

“Singing Rock!” said Neil, breathlessly.

Singing Rock raised his eyes, and then quickly looked to the place where Neil was pointing.

“It’s Dunbar!” said Neil. “That’s him—the man in the long white duster coat!”

The Indian medicine man rose to his feet. As he did so, Dunbar lifted his hat from his head and waved once. Then, gradually, like the morning mist from the ocean, he faded away again.

“Did you see him?” asked Neil, almost frantic. “Did you see him out there?”

Singing Rock said, “Yes, I saw him.”

“Thank God. Thank God for that. I was beginning to think I was imagining him.”

“I don’t know that his warnings can do anything to help us,” said Singing Rock. “It looks to me as though he’s just some disturbed spirit, vaguely manifesting himself around the fringe of all this astral activity.”

Neil didn’t take his eyes away from the grassy slope where Dunbar had vanished. “I’m not so sure,” he said softly. “I believe he helped me when the wooden man was after me, and I believe he’s going to try to help me now. Whenever he appears, I have this feeling of reassurance.”

Singing Rock looked briefly over at the hills beyond the fence. “Don’t rely too much on spirits,” he said. “Some of them are very treacherous. We have stories in South Dakota of demons who would take the shape of friendly dogs, and lead hunters into rivers and over the edge of cliffs.”