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“Whatever else Joe is, he’s not a mercenary man. I guess at present he’s just waiting to see if a nice girl like Kylie can cure Larry of his drinking habits.”
    â€œAs you say, she’s a nice girl right enough. But can she?”
    She looked straight at Clift. “There’s danger just in trying. Still, there’s danger in everything. I should know. My hobby’s free-fall parachuting.”
    â€œI remember. And I’ve seen the articles on you in the slick magazines. Sounds like a wonderful hobby.”
    She looked at him rather suspiciously, suspecting envy. “You get your kicks burrowing into the earth. I like to be way above it, with time and gravity in suspense.”
    He pointed down the trail, where three figures on mules could be discerned in a cloud of dust.
    â€œYour husband’s on his way back. He was telling me he’s also got time in suspense, in his laboratories.”
    â€œTime isn’t immutable, as the science of chaos proves. Basically Joe’s inertial disposal system is a way of destabilizing time. Ten years ago the principles behind it were scarcely glimpsed. I like that. Basically, I’m on Joe’s side, Bernard, so it’s no good trying to get round me.”
    He laughed but ignored the jibe.
    â€œIf time isn’t immutable, what is it? Being up against millions of years, I should be told.”
    â€œTime’s like a fog with a wave structure. It’s all to do with strange attractors. I can send you a paper about it. Tamper with the input, who knows what output you’ll get.”
    Clift laughed again.
    â€œJust like life, in fact.”
    â€œAlso subject to chaos.”
    They climbed down the hill path to meet Bodenland and his companions, covered in dust after the ride.
    â€œOh, that was just wonderful,” Kylie said, climbing off her mule and giving Mina a hug. “The desert is a marvelous place. Now I need a shower.”
    â€œA shower and a dozen cans of beer,” supplemented Larry.
    â€œIt was wonderful, but it achieved nothing,” Bodenland said. “However, we have left a pretty trail of flags behind. All I hope is that the ghost train calls again tonight.”
    â€œWhat about Larry?” she asked, when they were alone.
    â€œHe’s off with Kylie tomorrow, whatever happens tonight.”
    â€œDon’t look so sour, Joe. They are supposed to be on their honeymoon, poor kids. Where would you rather be—on a beach in Hawaii or in this godforsaken stretch of Utah?”
    He smiled at her, teasingly but with affection. “I’d rather be on that ghost train—and that’s where I’m going to be tonight.”
    But Bodenland was in for a disappointment.
    The night brought the stars, sharp as diamonds over the desert, but no ghost train. Bodenland and his group stayed by the mobile canteen, which remained open late to serve them. They drank coffee and talked, waiting, with the helicopter nearby, ever and again looking out into the darkness.
    â€œNo Injuns,” Kylie said. “No John Wayne stagecoach. The train made its appearance and that was it. Hey, Joe, a student was telling me she saw ghostly figures jumping—no, she said ‘floating’—off the train and landing somewhere by the dig, so she said. What do you think of that?”
    â€œCould be the first of later accretions to what will be a legend. Bernie, these students are going to want to bring in the media—or at least the local press. How’re you going to handle that?”
    â€œI rely on them,” Clift said. “They know how things stand. All the same—Joe, if this thing shows up tonight, I want to be on that helicopter with you.”
    â€œMy god, here it comes,” Mina screamed before Bodenland could reply.
    And it was there in the darkness, like something boring in from outer space, a traveler, a voyager, an invader: full of speed and luminescence, which