"Oh," he told himself dully. "I suppose they'll take care of me, but what of it? They'll put me somewhere. I'll lose everything. It'll be just like the place Boemar thought of sending me, when I--" Furiously, he tried to summon some tiny bit of energy to activate the distorter. Nothing happened. The man whose pity had destroyed him suddenly frowned, then turned and darted away. Dully, Barra watched him, then he turned, to look around the village. His face contorted in new terror. Some of the village men were moving toward him, curious expressions on their faces. He backed away from them and turned. A few more had moved to block his path. They were grunting and hissing to each other. Barra looked from face to face, then looked over toward the well. There were men over there, too, by the pile of stones. The old man who worked on the retaining walls of the village had picked up some of his building material. He stood, eying Barra calculatingly, a stone poised in each hand. THE END