Both men were silent. After a while, Colin tamped in fresh tobacco and lit his pipe, sending up cottony puffs of smoke. "What do we do now?" he said absently. General Banning sighed. "See that hangar?" he asked, gesturing to a tall building perhaps a quarter mile away down the edge of the field. Colin nodded. "_Phoenix II_," the General said, and his voice was flat and expressionless. "Send another man into it, knowing no more than we know?" "We have to know," Banning said. "Men have died before without as good reason." "I'm going home. Call me if you need me." Colin stood, and the general made a silent gesture of helplessness. They wouldn't need him. Not until _Phoenix II_ came home. Then they would need him. Colin spoke, quietly, as if thinking of something else. "I didn't hear you," Banning said. "Quoting Emerson. The essay on Nature I mentioned." "What did he say?" "'But if a man would be alone,'" Colin quoted, "'let him look at the stars.' Good night, General." "Good night." Colin walked outside into the cold desert air. The night was clear and crisp, and the Milky Way hurled itself like a mass of vapor across the sky. ... _if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars_ ... He looked up, and was alone in the night. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man Alone, by Don Berry