He reviewed the events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. * * * * * He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white toga. She was shrieking, laughing as she skittered past him, clutching a gleaming gold helmet. He called out to her, but she was too busy outdistancing her pursuer. It was Sheriff Coogan, puffing and huffing, the metal-and-gold cloth uniform ludicrous on his lanky frame. "Consarn kid!" he wheezed. "Gimme my hat!" Mom was following him, her stout body regal in scarlet robes. "Sally! You give Sir Coogan his helmet! You hear?" "Mrs. Dawes!" Sol said. "Why, Mr. Becker! How nice to see you again! Pa! _Pa!_ Look who's here!" Willie Dawes appeared. _No!_ Sol thought. This was _King_ Dawes; nothing else could explain the magnificence of his attire. "Yes," Dawes said craftily. "So I see. Welcome to Armagon, Mr. Becker." "Armagon?" Sol gaped. "Then this is the place you've been dreaming about?" "Yep," the King said. "And now _you're_ in it, too." "Then I'm only dreaming!" Charlie, the fat man, clumsy as ever in his robes of State, said: "So _that's_ the snooper, eh?" "Yep," Dawes chuckled. "Think you better round up the Knights." Sol said: "The Knights?" "Exelution! Exelution!" Sally shrieked. "Now wait a minute--" Charlie shouted. Running feet, clanking of armor. Sol backed up against a pillar. "Now look here. You've gone far enough--" "Not quite," said the King. The Knights stepped forward. "Wait!" Sol screamed. Familiar faces, under shining helmets, moved towards him; the tips of sharp-pointed spears gleaming wickedly. And Sol Becker wondered--would he ever awake? Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ January 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.