And now, I thought, it all had become just a little clearer. If Dobby was right about this teleportation business, and the evidence said he was, then the boulder could have been the ship the bugs had used to make their way to Earth. If they could use their power to tear up furniture and throw it out of the house, they could use that selfsame power to move anything through space. It needn't have been the boulder; it could have been anything at all.
Billy, in his uninhibited, boyish thinking, probably had struck close to the truth—they had used the boulder because it was their food.
The policemen came pounding back out of the house and stopped beside me.
"Say, mister," said one of them, "do you have the least idea what is going on?"
I shook my head. "You better talk to Dobby. He's the one with answers."
"He says these things are from Mars."
"Not Mars," said the second officer. "It was you who said it might be Mars. He said from the stars."
"He's a funny-talking old coot," complained the first policeman. "A lot of stuff he says is more than a man can swallow."
"Jake," said the other one, "we better start doing something about this crowd. We can't let them get too close."
"I'll radio for help," said Jake.
He went to the police car and climbed into it.
"You stick around," the other said to me, "Tm not going anywhere," I said.
The crowd was good-sized by now. More cars had stopped and some of the people in them had gotten out, but most of them just sat and stared. There were an awful lot of kids by this time and the women were still coming, perhaps from blocks away. Word spreads fast in an area like ours.
Dobby came ambling down the yard. He sat down beside me and started pawing at his whiskers.
"It makes no sense," he said, "but, then, of course, it wouldn't."
"What I can't figure out," I told him, "is why they cleaned the house. Why did it have to be spic and span before they started piling up the metal? There must be a reason for it."
A car screeched down the street and slammed up to the curb just short of where we sat. Helen came bustling out of it.
"I can't turn my back a minute," she declared, "but something up and happens."
"It's your bugs," I said. "Your nice house-cleaning bugs. They're ripping up the place."
"Why don't you stop them, then?"
"Because I don't know how."
"They're aliens," Dobby told her calmly. "They came from somewhere out in space."
"Dobby Wells, you keep out of this! You've caused me all the trouble I can stand. The idea of getting Billy interested in insects! He's had the place cluttered up all summer."
A man came rushing up. He squatted down beside me and started pawing at my arm. I turned around and saw that it was Barr, the rockhound.
"Marsden," he said, excitedly, "I have changed my mind. I'll give you five thousand for that boulder. I'll write you out a check right now."
"What boulder?" Helen asked. "You mean our boulder out in the back?"
"That's the one," said Barr. "I've got to have that boulder."
"Sell it to him," Helen said.
"I will not," I told her.
"Randall Marsden," she screamed, "you can't turn down five thousand! Think of what five thousand…"
"I can turn it down," I told her, firmly. "It's worth a whole lot more than that. It's not just an agate boulder any longer. It's the first spaceship that ever came to Earth. I can get anything I ask."
Helen gasped.
"Dobby," she asked weakly, "is he telling me the truth?"
"I think," said Dobby, "that for once he is." The wail of sirens sounded down the street. One of the policemen came back from the car.
"You folks will have to get across the street," he said.
"As soon as the others get here, we'll cordon off the place."
We got up to start across the street.
"Lady," said the officer, "you'll have to move your car."
"If you two want to stay together," Dobby offered, "I'll drive it down the street."
Helen gave him the keys and the two of us walked across the street. Dobby got into the car and drove off,
The officers were hustling the other cars away.
A dozen police cars arrived. Men piled out of them. They started pushing back the crowd. Others fanned out to start forming a circle around the house.
Broken furniture, bedding, clothing, draperies from time to time came flying out the kitchen door. The pile of debris grew bigger by the moment.
We stood across the street and watched our house be wrecked.
"They must be almost through by now," I said, with a strange detachment. "I wonder what comes next."
"Randall," said Helen tearfully, clinging to my arm, "what do we do now? They're wrecking all my things. How about it—is it covered by insurance?"
"Why, I don't know," I said. "I never thought of it."
And that was the truth of it—it hadn't crossed my mind. And me an insurance man!
I had written that policy myself and now I tried desperately to remember what the fine print might have said and I had a sinking feeling. How, I asked myself, could anything like this be covered? It certainly was no hazard that could have been anticipated.
"Anyhow," I said, "we still have the boulder. We can sell the boulder."
"I still think we should have taken the five thousand," Helen told me. "What if the Government should move in and just grab the boulder off?"
And she was right, I told myself. This would be just the sort of thing in which the Government could become intensely interested.
I began to think myself that maybe we should have taken that five thousand.
Three policemen walked across the yard and went into the house. Almost at once they came tearing out again. Pouring out behind them came a swarm of glittering dots that hummed and buzzed and swooped so fast they seemed to leave streaks of their golden glitter in the air behind them. The policemen ran in weaving fashion, ducking and dodging. They waved their hands in the air above their heads.
The crowd surged back and began to run. The police cordon broke and retreated with what dignity it could.
I found myself behind the house across the street, my hand still gripping Helen's arm. She was madder than a hornet.
"You needn't have pulled me along so fast," she told me. "I could have made it by myself. You made me lose my shoes."
"Forget your shoes," I told her sharply. "This thing is getting serious. You go and round up Billy and the two of you get out of here. Go up to Amy's place."
"Do you know where Billy is?"
"He's around somewhere. He is with his pals. Just look for a bunch of boys."
"And you?"
"I'll be along," I said.
"You'll be careful, Randall?"
I patted her shoulder and stooped down to kiss her. "I'll be careful. I'm not very brave, you know. Now go and get the boy."
She started away and then turned back. "Will we ever go back home?" she asked.
"I think we will," I said, "and soon. Someone will find a way to get them out of there."
I watched her walk away and felt the chilly coldness of the kindness of my lie.
Would we, in solemn truth, ever go back home again? Would the entire world, all of humanity, ever be at home again? Would the golden bugs take away the smug comfort and the warm security that Man had known for ages in his sole possession of a planet of his own?
I went up the backyard slope and found Helen's shoes. I put them in my pocket. I came to the back of the house and peeked around the corner.
The bugs had given up the chase, but now a squadron of them flew in a lazy, shining circle around and just above the house. It was plain to see that they were on patrol.