‘Is that what everyone calls it?’

‘It sure looked that way to most of us, there for a while.’

Willy Bersinger laughed quietly and shook his head.

‘Now I know why you didn’t want me to start lecturing when I walked in that door.’

Of course, thought Willy, why didn’t I see it right off? Four short weeks ago the wilderness fell on this town and shook it good and scared it plenty. Because of the sunspots, all the towns in all the western world have had enough silence to last them ten years. And here I come by with another doze of silence, my easy talk about deserts and nights with no moon and only stars and just the little sound of the sand blowing along the empty river bottoms. No telling what might have happened if Antonelli hadn’t shut me up. I see me, tarred and feathered, leaving town.

‘Antonelli,’ he said aloud. ‘Thanks.’

‘For nothing,’ said Antonelli. He picked up his comb and shears. ‘Now, short on the sides, long in back?’

‘Long on the sides,’ said Willy Bersinger, closing his eyes again, ‘short in back.’

An hour later Willy and Samuel climbed back into their jalopy, which someone, they never knew who, had washed and polished while they were in the barber–shop.

‘Doom,’ Samuel handed over a small sack of gold–dust. With a capital D.’

‘Keep it.’ Willy sat, thoughtful, behind the wheel.

‘Let's take this money and hit out for Phoenix, Tucson, Kansas City, why not? Right now, we’re a surplus commodity around here. We won’t be welcome again until those little begin to dance and sing. Sure as hell, if we stay, we’ll open our traps and the desert monsters and chicken hawks the wilderness will slip out and make us trouble.’

'Willy squinted at the highway straight ahead.