There was more, but none of it was clear to Wesley later. It seemed only seconds before he was standing again on the banks of Sampson's Creek, perhaps a hundred yards upstream from the pool from which he had fished Mitsik. But the sun hung lower over the mountains and the birds were choosing perches for the night; he had been "away," Wesley estimated, for something over an hour. It did not occur to him until he had walked back to the inn, and discovered in the walking that he had left the Aldhaferian booklet behind, that he might only have dozed during his stroll and dreamed it all. The dampness of his clothing reassured him--and disturbed his Aunt Jessica and Miriam--without eliminating that doubt. Still later came the grimmer thought that he might even be losing his sanity. He worried about that, too upset to finish the Aldhaferian story he had begun, for a week. Then the mail brought his first travelogue. * * * * * Charlie Birdsall, the rural carrier, blew his horn at the gate and handed over the sealed manila packet along with a letter from Wesley's literary agent. Charlie was a friend from high-school days and a perennial bachelor who found Wesley's future appalling. "Got a circular from some tourist bureau," Charlie said. "And a letter from that agent fellow in New York. Letter's got a check for forty dollars in it." He shook his head darkly at Wesley's worn look. "Fellow, you better get squared away before your lid slips. You can't write that wild stuff of yours and stand off two women at the same time. When're you going to learn?" Wesley hefted his packet wistfully, wanting the privacy of his room but reluctant to offend Charlie by rushing off. "I have to write," he said. "And as for marrying--maybe Aunt Jessica is right. Maybe a man wasn't meant to live alone." Charlie snorted. "How wrong can you get? Look, a bunch of us are having a poker sit and beers tonight at Landon's service station. Why not come down with me, Wes?" Wesley begged off. "Work to do, Charlie. I haven't turned in much material lately and my agent is getting impatient." "When you wake up some morning on a leash," Charlie said, "don't say I didn't warn you." He put his car into gear and departed. In his room, Wesley opened the letter first. There was a check for forty dollars, as Charlie had said, and a terse note from his agent that said: _This one just made it, as see the seedy stipend. Can you come up with something fresher in the way of alien settings?_ _Henry._ Wesley reserved answer until the packet was opened and his first brochure scanned. "I can now," he said.