Wide Bend was a normal community. Along with its natural curiosity there was a genuine feeling of neighborliness—heightened by the conviction that these hardworking strangers had thrown their money away on a hopeless venture. So, one way and another, a fair percentage of the town's population found excuses in the next few days to get out to Dark Valley. Bit by bit the reports filtered back to Jerry, and they all added up about the same.

Joe Merklos and his people were incredibly industrious. Already they had cleaned up the yards, repaired sagging barns and roofless sheds. Curtains fluttered at the windows. Cows had appeared, and sheep, even a few horses. Somehow, perhaps from accumulated seepage, they were still bringing water from the rusty pumps. And—though it was surely an illusion—Dark Valley seemed to have taken on a tinge of green again.

Wide Bend's womenfolk brought gifts of home-made preserves, jelly, canned vegetables ... and came away puzzled. No, they hadn't been badly received. All was politeness and smiles. But there was—well, a sort of remoteness about these people. The kids went out of sight the minute you turned into a place. And you just couldn't get close to the grown-ups. Dark, they were, and heavy-looking. They smiled a lot, jabbering in an unknown language. They had beautiful white teeth, but no jewelry or ornaments, such as gypsies might wear. They always appeared pleased that you brought them something. But on the way home you discovered you still had your presents, after all.

The best guess as to the number in the tribe (somehow, that seemed the best way to describe them) was sixty, give or take a few.

The general verdict was expressed by Henderson at the next club luncheon. "They're odd, but they're hard workers. Darned good thing for the community."

Miller, the jeweler, agreed vigorously.

"Self-interest," Jerry murmured, "is a wonderful thing."

They turned on him. "They haven't bought a thing from us! And what if they did?"

"Kidding, boys. I've got something to sell, too." Then Jerry frowned. "They haven't bought anything?"

Around the table, heads shook.

"Probably," Caruso growled, "they wear their hair long, too."

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