Jerry found the Carvers waiting for him, their wrinkled old faces tense. They didn't answer his greeting, just jerked their heads. They led him past the cabin, through open brush, and halted at a bare place. Slowly, Jerry sank to his knees. Except for its size, it could have been a splayed-out cougar print. But it was two feet across, and pressed more than an inch into the hard, dry soil. Finally Ed Carver nudged Jerry. The gnarled finger pointed to a twig of wild lilac eight feet off the ground. Caught on the twig were several coarse black hairs, six inches long. Jerry looked from them back to the Carvers, then down 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."