Matt had to destroy the rocket because it
was a symbol of evil that had brought economic
disaster. But must he also destroy—the future?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
March 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It was well after dark when Matt Matthews got back down to theheadquarters camp, and saw the city stranger sitting there beforethe fire. He knew he was a city man after a single glance at theshiny, low-topped shoes and the reminiscence of a crease in the dustytrousers. Matt tossed the gophers and the two small coyotes off hisbroad shoulders to old Moe Arhelger, across the campfire, staring insuspicious silence from the stranger to Moe and back again. "Who's he?"he asked finally.
"He wants to go down to the Ship," said Moe, tossing another stickinto the fire. He was a thin, wiry old man, with a white rim of beardscraggling over his lean jaw. A short-bit pipe was clenched between aset of very bad teeth. On his head was a torn, filthy old felt hat,but his clear blue eyes held the silent confidence of authority. Theold man puffed quietly as he glanced up at the young giant who hadjust arrived. "His name's Loevy—he says. Flew over from El Paso thismorning in a 'copter, just to see me. Even knew my name—"
"Everybody in New Mexico knows your name," Matthews growled.
The old man nodded, his eyes bright. "Mr. Loevy wants to go down to theShip tonight."
Matt stared at the stranger's half-day stubble. Then he burst outlaughing. "That's what we all want to do, buddy. Just go down to theShip. That's all. Only trouble is, the Bulldog isn't ready to lay outthe welcome mat for us just yet." He glanced over at Moe. "Did the docsay anything about Jack Abel?"
"Jack's dead. Three slugs in the head."
Matt's face darkened. He looked up at Loevy. "Jack wanted to go down tothe ship, too. Tried to go down quiet-like." He set about skinning thefirst coyote, tossing the rest of the game to the group of silent mensitting around the fire near Moe. "You're wasting your time, stranger.Stick around a while. Be patient, like us. The Bulldog can't hold outforever."
Loevy ran a hand through his dark hair, watching Matthews with sharpbrown eyes. "I wasn't figuring on going down quiet-like," he said.
Matt looked up as though seeing the man for the first time, his eyesdark with suspicion. "Then how do you plan to go?" His hand moved tothe gun at his side, and he began massaging the stock with his huge paw.
Loevy glanced at the gun without fear. "Under a truce flag," he said.
Matthews spat. "Old man Gorham has command of four hundred men down atthe ship. They'll shoot anybody that comes close on sight." He lookedup at Moe, caught the old man's blue eyes sharply. "I don't like thisguy, Moe. I think we'd better take care of him."
Moe shook his head. "Take it easy, Matt. The man thinks maybe he canget this siege broken. Thinks Gorham may surrender if he knows what'shappened—in Washington, all over the country."
Loevy nodded, bobbing his head eagerly. "I knew Gorham—before thecrash. He's an old-guard soldier, he'll honor a truce flag." His voicewas crisp in the still night air. "You want to get your hands on thatship—that's all you want, the whole crowd of you out here. Nothingelse. So why risk a fight, risk getting killed, if I can get Gorham tosurrender to you?"
Matt grinned unpleasantly. "Why do you think they call him the Bulldog?He'll never give up—until we starve him out. We've got the time, andthe men, and the food. They