The Invaders | Page 5

at the ground again. He didn't speak. What was
there to say?
As they started back toward the cabin, Ed Carver said harshly, "We
found that two nights ago."
Jerry brooded for some distance, then he said, "Ned Ames has the best
hunting dogs in the country."
They looked at him disgustedly.
"Dammit, you have to do something! Come back to town with me.
We'll get some of the boys together, and hunt it down."
They had passed the cabin and reached the car. The Carver brothers
looked out over Dark Valley and shook their heads. "We've lived
alone," Ed said. "We'll fight alone."

When Jerry told the sheriff about the giant spoor, Watson gave a
derisive snort. "Those old coots got bats in their belfries!"
"But I saw the print."
Watson dismissed such evidence with a wave of his hand. "They made
it up, probably. Forget it till you see the animal itself. You'll have time
to believe it then. We got enough to worry about already."
Jerry couldn't forget it. But there was a kind of reassurance in such
hearty skepticism. With each passing minute, that huge print seemed
more unreal.
* * * * *
Halfway through the valley they stopped to look at the river. The bed
was half full--muddy, debris-laden, with a sheen of dust on the surface.
But it was water--wet, tangible, undeniable.
Watson took off his hat and rubbed his head and swore.
"Good afternoon."
They turned. Joe Merklos was smiling at them.
"Hello," Jerry said. Watson just glowered.
Merklos moved beside them and looked down. His brilliant teeth
flashed. "Good, is it not?" The guttural words came out flat, one at a
time, as though shaped carefully.
"Better than money, in this part of the world." Jerry's eyes narrowed.
"Did you know about the water when you bought the valley?"
Merklos smiled again. He was bare-headed, dressed in dark trousers
and a loose, short-sleeved blouse. His neck and muscular forearms
gleamed bronze in the sunlight. "You like what we do here?" he asked
in his deep, hesitant manner.

"You've done wonders," Watson said shortly.
Merklos' smoky eyes held Jerry's. "My people are used to work."
Slowly, significantly, Watson said, "The thing we don't understand is
how you managed to bring so much equipment. The exact things you
needed--right down to the last nail."
Merklos' inscrutable gaze swung around. The smile lingered on his face.
"We are a careful people. We plan a long way ahead."
Watson opened his mouth for another question--and shut it. Merklos'
attention had left them. The man was listening, his head slightly cocked.
After a moment he turned. "I am happy to see you making a visit. I
hope you come again." He nodded and walked swiftly away.
Wordlessly, Jerry and the sheriff got back in the car. "Could you hear
what he was listening to?" Jerry muttered.
"I didn't hear a thing."
"Notice anything else about Dark Valley?"
* * * * *
Watson shook his head.
"No flowers. Not one dog." Jerry's hand tightened on the
steering-wheel. "And who has ever gotten a single, clear look at one of
the kids?"
Jerry spent a restless night. On the way to his office the next morning
he met Watson, talking to a farmer on the courthouse steps.
"Listen to Carson, here," the sheriff said grimly.
Carson's straw hat bobbed as he talked. "I'm waitin' to see the farm
adviser. Somethin's gone wrong out at my place on the South Fork. I'm
on good bottom land--highest yield in the county. But in the last two,

three weeks my corn, my wheat, even my berries has stopped growin'!"
Jerry's eyes jumped to Watson.
"Yep," Carson went on, "every single ear o' corn is still a nubbin." He
threw out his arms. "And, by God, even my wife's radishes has stood
still. Ain't anything on earth that'll slow up a radish."
"How about other stuff? How about eggs?"
"Same thing. Cut right down. Hens lay one in ten now, mebbe. An' my
alfalfa has turned a funny gray-green. Even the fruit--"
"What about the river?" Watson broke in. "You still got water in the
South Fork?"
"Way down for this time o' year. But we got enough."
Several people had stopped to listen. One of them, a big, tow-headed
Swede, burst out excitedly. "Mister, you got the same trouble as my
cousin. His crops, they're growin' backwards!"
There was more of the same impossible talk. Jerry made an excuse to
get away to his office. He sat at his desk and stared out the window.
There wasn't any problem, he tried to tell himself. Anything he could
not measure by experience and logic was out. And that had to include
giant paw-prints and mysteriously missing objects as well as radishes
that wouldn't grow.