"Calm yourself. You're getting excited."

"It's Rocky's ghost! A horrible ghost!"

"He's dead, I tell you! Now, be quiet!"

She screamed, a falsetto blast that knifed the dark night. "A ghost! A horrible ghost!" Scrabbling to her feet, she ran screaming around the grove. She tripped over the blankets, but didn't fall; she caromed from the hood of the convertible, but kept going; she waved her arms and, screaming louder, headed toward Markel. When she came close he slapped her, hard. She stopped, then fell backward. After that she didn't scream any more.

Markel decided later, lying on his back looking at the stars, that she was much too emotional to be the mother of the children of Phoenix. She was also stupid, illiterate, and boring. A strong, peasant body was her only asset. He would have preferred a woman closer to his own intelligence, but that, of course, was impossible. Remembering some of the women he had seen in other cities, he shuddered, and decided to make the best of the Earth Mother.

Later that night he dreamed. In this dream a golden bird floundered through fire that flamed blue and silver. The bird tried to fly away but the flames forced it down, and the golden bird sobbed. Markel awoke but heard only the Earth Mother crying in the dark. "Oh," he said drowsily and went back to sleep.

When he heard the motorcycle again, just before noon the next day, he decided to find out precisely who was driving it. It was very simple: all he had to do was let the driver catch up to them. So he stopped the convertible halfway up a long hill road that edged a cliff. He got out his binoculars and studied the road, which looped down the hill, straightened, and curled to the horizon. After a long wait in the hot sun he saw a black dot on the horizon. The dot moved, grew larger. Markel silently handed the binoculars to the Earth Mother.

She surprised him; she didn't scream. She calmly gave back the binoculars and said, "It's Rocky. He don't look like a ghost."

Markel ran, dragging her to the convertible. "You drive, and do exactly as I tell you." He got beside her, the M-1 ready, while she started the car. "Wait," he said. They waited until the noise of the motorcycle roared around the curve just below them. "Now! Pull out!" said Markel. She swung the convertible onto the road and a few minutes later the motorcycle curved up around the bend.

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