He tried for fifteen minutes to get through, but there was a woman on the line who was terribly upset about a cotton dress she had ordered from Sears, and was telling the world about it. Finally, he got his call through to Salinas, and a sleepy-voiced Fred, his old Army buddy, listened somewhat indifferently to his tale of woe. "I might miss the wedding," Sol said unhappily. "I'm awfully sorry." Fred didn't seem to be half as sorry as he was. When Sol hung up, he was feeling more despondent than ever. A man, tall and rangy, with a bobbing Adam's apple and a lined face, came into the hallway. "Hullo?" he said inquiringly. "You the fella had the car stolen?" "Yes." The man scratched his ear. "Take you over to Sheriff Coogan after breakfast. He'll let the Stateys know about it. My name's Dawes." Sol accepted a careful handshake. "Don't get many people comin' into town," Dawes said, looking at him curiously. "Ain't seen a stranger in years. But you look like the rest of us." He chuckled. Mom called out: "Breakfast!" * * * * * At the table, Dawes asked his destination. "Wedding in Salinas," he explained. "Old Army friend of mine. I picked this hitchhiker up about two miles from here. He _seemed_ okay." "Never can tell," Dawes said placidly, munching egg. "Hey, Ma. That why you were so late comin' to court last night?" "That's right, Pa." She poured the blackest coffee Sol had ever seen. "Didn't miss much, though." "What court is that?" Sol asked politely, his mouth full. "Umagum," Sally said, a piece of toast sticking out from the side of her mouth. "Don't you know _nothin'_?" "_Arma_gon," Dawes corrected. He looked sheepishly at the stranger. "Don't expect Mister--" He cocked an eyebrow. "What's the name?" "Becker." "Don't expect Mr. Becker knows anything about Armagon. It's just a dream, you know." He smiled apologetically. "Dream? You mean this--Armagon is a place you dream about?" "Yep," Dawes said. He lifted cup to lip. "Great coffee, Ma." He leaned back with a contented sigh. "Dream about it every night. Got so used to the place, I get all confused in the daytime." Mom said: "I get muddle-headed too, sometimes." "You mean--" Sol put his napkin in his lap. "You mean _you_ dream about the same place?" "Sure," Sally piped. "We all go there at night. I'm goin' to the palace again, too." "If you brush your teeth," Mom said primly. "If I brush my teeth. Boy, you shoulda seen the exelution!" "Execution," her father said. "Oh, my goodness!" Mom got up hastily. "That reminds me. I gotta call poor Mrs. Brundage. It's the _least_ I could do." "Good idea," Dawes nodded. "And I'll have to round up some folks and get old Brundage out of there." Sol was staring. He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of the right question to ask. Then he blurted out: "What execution?"