His mind was playing tricks on him, and he'd better run back to the Shack and get some sleep. But as he turned to go, he heard it again—stronger, clearer, unmistakable. Those two familiar impulses. They were as clear and sharp as the early morning desert air. Charlie felt crazy, but he stood there and tentatively answered with his own impulse—then he waited. Charles—we are waiting, Charles ! We are waiting for you! There was no denying it now, that joyous impulse, that gentler one mixed with it—he knew them well! Charlie started to run, that last stretch around the hill, to see the Saddle Peaks, Saddle Mountain. And as he did, the tightness in his chest was disappearing. It was going fast as he raced out into the clear open desert. Somehow, as he saw the great filled-in space of Saddle Mountain, just as he had left it, he knew the cure for that old pain deep down inside him. The pain was gone now, and he knew it would be gone forever. Far in the distance, Charlie saw two tiny, arm-waving figures, running across the sands to meet him. They had waited all night long for him, and he ran harder now, waving too. "Hi, duplicates!" Charlie said aloud, laughing happily. The first brilliant rays of morning Sunlight shot out across the mountains. The golden Sun had struck the discus flagship with a giant shaft of light. The night was gone. The great jagged chocolate mountains swung hard in an easy motion—standing up vertically on end, sideways. Then they settled back down, in a swift and graceful curve, to the horizon. From far above the sleeping desert, high above the icy Colorado, a great star ship thundered out silently, into the blackness of space. The lone passenger it had been waiting for, hoping for, was now aboard. Charles Bin was going home.