He hoped they hadn’t forsaken Blue Valley altogether. It was nice having them around, even if the larger one had annoyed Flame. He turned to look at his stallion and the band. They were grazing in the shade of the western wall. Flame moved restlessly from one patch of grass to another, raising his head every so often, ears pricked and listening.

Steve went into the great opening, wondering if Flame felt the same anxiety that he did. And if so, for what reason, when everything had been so serene before? He hurried along the underground stream, anxious to reach the lookout post over the western sea.

When he arrived there he pressed his eyes close to the narrow slit. The afternoon sun was higher than during his last visit, so its rays did not obstruct his view of the sea’s surface. He saw immediately that the grayish-white patch was still there, and the blood began pounding in his temples. He pressed his head closer to the stone, welcoming its coolness. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It must be floating algae, phosphorescent at night, grayish-white during the day. But why then hadn’t it moved? Why was it anchored in the same identical spot as last night?

He forsook the coolness of the stone against his head for the binoculars and the better view they would provide. As he put the glasses to his eyes, he found that his hands were moist. He chastised himself, ridiculed himself for his mounting concern. But nothing helped.

He looked through the binoculars. The patch was no different than when seen with the naked eye … it was grayish-white, round and motionless. Steve stayed there a long while, not wanting to leave without having decided once and for all what it really was. He didn’t want to spend another uneasy night.

He could not have told how long he had been there when he saw some sort of a stirring directly above the patch. He told himself it was being caused by the sun’s rays. But the sun was still high in the heavens. A light was beginning to dance directly above the grayish-white patch. Rapidly it became brighter, and then Steve knew what it was. The golden mass of the day before. The second sun that had swept over Blue Valley. The meteor that was no meteor!

In a few seconds the mass was big and round and glowing. Steve closed his eyes against its brightness. Yet he didn’t keep them closed, for he wanted to watch. He saw the long flash of an object high above the golden mass before it plummeted down to the water. He made out its needle-like shape just before it disappeared within the great light. Then the mass faded rapidly until nothing was left on the water but that small patch of grayish-white.

Steve lowered the binoculars, turned away and staggered through the tunnel.