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+{"text":"\n\n**EARLY BIRD BOOKS**\n\n**FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY**\n\nLOVE TO READ?\n\nLOVE GREAT SALES?\n\nGET FANTASTIC DEALS ON BESTSELLING EBOOKS\n\nDELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX EVERY DAY!\n\nThe Vanquished\n\nBrian Garfield\n\nAUTHOR'S NOTE\n\nSixty miles south of the Arizona line, on the Rio de la Conception in northwest Mexico, a forgotten church stands crumbling on the outskirts of the old town of Caborca. The remains of its walls are pocked with the tracks of bullets. Flood waters have eaten away much of the structure, even to the dome, and those parts that have been rebuilt in the last decade seem awkward and cheap beside the older, more artful work of the eighteenth-century padres who originally built the church. The religious life of the town has moved to a new central plaza a mile away, where an ungainly new church stands in pale imitation of the old structure.\n\nThe church was built by Franciscan priests on the ruins of a mission established by Padre Eusebio Francisco Kino, S.J., probably in the 1690s. Roundabout grow the palms of Caborca, tall trees; for the age of a town in that isolated desert country is measured by the height of its palms. Some of them today reach upward more than a hundred feet. Their fruit is used year-round; their leaves make thatch, their trunks timbers.\n\nOn the church is a bronze plaque, erected April 6, 1926, to commemorate an event that took place seventy years earlier.\n\n_Humbly we pay grateful homage to_\n\n_the army of Mexico and the men of_\n\n_Caborca, who on April 6, 1857, made_\n\n_this temple stand as a bulwark for_\n\n_the defenders of the fatherland by_\n\n_inflicting defeat on the North_\n\n_American filibusters_.\n\nWhen Mexico wrenched its independence from Spain, the northwestern state of Sonora was crippled. Its wealthy dons, loyal to the Spanish crown, closed the rich mines of Sonora and destroyed all their equipment before they fled. Sonora, once a flourishing frontier province, suffered abrupt privation. Apache marauders from the north swept through the district in brutal raids, butchering the inhabitants; in self-defense, the Mexicans hired ruthless scalp hunters and offered two hundred dollars' bounty for the scalp of every male warrior brought in by the contract hunters. These hunters\u2014men like James \"Don Santiago\" Kirker and John Joel Glanton\u2014soon discovered that it was easy enough to pawn off the scalp of a peaceful Mexican citizen as Apache, and thus collect their bounty without endangering themselves. At the same time, parties of North Americans on their way to the California gold fields trooped through northern Sonora, treating the natives with contemptuous cruelty.\n\nIt is no wonder, then, that by the late 1850s North Americans had earned a bad name in Sonora.\n\nThe state itself, effectively cut off geographically from the rest of Mexico by the menacing ramparts of the Sierra Madres, was an isolated community, ripe for the ambitions of a dictator. Such a man was Jes\u00fas Gandara, who bought and held by force of arms the governorship of Sonora. By bribery and threats, Gandara secured an alliance with the local commander of federal troops, General Ya\u00f1ez, and with the chief of the Yaqui Indians, El Indio Tanori. Even today in Mexico the mountain Yaquis are considered a dangerous threat. They are the only Indian tribe who have never signed a treaty with either the United States or Mexico; technically they remain at war with the whites. As late as 1929 a skirmish took place at Nogales between Mexican Rurales and a Yaqui band.\n\nWith such fierce allies, Gandara held Sonora firmly.\n\nA revolution was brewing against him in the mid-1850s, led by a resolute colonel of militia, Ignacio Pesquiera. To aid his cause, Pesquiera enlisted the help of Henry Alexander Crabb, a California State Senator and Pesquiera's relative by marriage.\n\nThus it was that one of the most daring of the nineteenth-century filibustering expeditions was organized. The strange tale of Crabb's filibuster begins in Sonora, California, and ends in Sonora, Mexico. It is the story of ninety men who marched across the burning desert Camino del Diablo (Devil's Road) of Arizona toward a rendezvous with death at the bullet-scarred church of Caborca.\n\nAs a historical note, the story here told is a true story. All the important events are related with as much accuracy as possible in the light of the varying versions of the affair that have come down to us.\n\nTheoretically a novelist has a vaguely defined area of license into which he can incorporate his fictions. An attempt has been made to minimize that area in this novel: all characters are real except for a man named Cassio and three or four women; few liberties have been taken with facts, and none at all with significant events or dates. Of course dialogue, description of many details, personalities of most characters, and other minor matters are products of the author's imagination, just as the meaning of the story must be a product of the reader's.\n\nDocumented historical sources for this story, while not widely known in the popular sense, are plentiful and easily available. It seems needless to list them here, but of course the author retains a complete bibliography.\n\nIt remains only to be said that my indebtedness is very great to Jesus Y. Ainsa, to the library of the University of Arizona, to Dr. Robert H. Forbes, and, as always, to the Arizona Pioneers Historical Society, which houses Dr. Forbes' massive collection of materials dealing with the Crabb Filibuster Expedition. I am indebted as well to my friend Henri L. Castricum of Tucson.\n\nB. W. G.\n\n_Paris, 1964_\nCHAPTER 1\n\nCharley Evans stood on the half-rotted boardwalk in a driving rain and watched the Abbott-Downing stagecoach lean away from the depot and pitch toward the head of the street, its seventy-five dollar mules straining in the mud. Rain battered his hatless head and glued the shirt to his back.\n\nIf the present was dismal gray and the future a probable black, and the past a kind of dusty sad yellow, then Charley would choose the pale past, bleak as it might have been. The sun rose and set; life until today had been a matter of mornings beginning darkly before dawn, and evenings chiefly remembered for exhaustion. If most youths of sixteen had the mirage of a vast shining future luring them on, such visions had faded for Charley Evans. For the most part the pleasantest part of the day had been the few minutes he could steal away from swamping in the Triple Ace Saloon to be with his careworn memories. There was a girl over the mountains in Stockton; her name was Maria and he thought a good deal about her. But that had been last summer, and by now she was probably fat.\n\nCharley had worn a polish on these memories while he pushed his mop and avoided the insults and malicious slaps of Bill, the bartender. His eyes had grown gray and wise.\n\nIn the east, solemn gray became lackluster pink. This told him he was late for work, and he turned and took his tattered carpetbag along the walk toward the Triple Ace, forgetting for the moment that he did not intend to go to work today. He had the old carpetbag with him because he intended this to be his last day in the Triple Ace, or for that matter in this gray patternless town of Sonora. Recently, looking around him, he had decided that he had seen enough of the wonders of the California hills. Today or tomorrow he would go away on a trek, eastward. All he had to do was find someone headed that way. Today's future grew brighter in hue than yesterday's; he had a vision of great cities, wealth, opulent women.\n\nA loose board gave way under his heel. It almost upset him. He cursed mildly and went on, turning his eyes along the street with the wise glance of a father. There was a strange thing in the sky\u2014in the east the dawn was wide and pink, but in the west where the sky was still dark, the moon seen through haze was a sharp-rimmed disc of pale white. Overhead pendulant thunder-heads concentrated above the center of the valley. Raindrops made him blink. He came along the muddy walk to Jim Woods's saloon and intended to go by the place, but the friendly Woods came out as far as the awning's shelter and stopped him with an amiable inquiry: \"All packed, I see. Going somewhere, Charley?\"\n\n\"Back East.\"\n\n\"You're doing the Triple Ace out of a chore boy, then.\"\n\n\"They'll find another one.\"\n\n\"I reckon.\" Woods squinted toward the sky. \"Funny-looking moon, all by itself,\" he observed, and tilted himself so that his shoulder rested against the weatherbeaten post that supported the awning. Rain pelted it overhead and Charley tarried under the shelter. Woods' eyes were overhung by thick gray brows; he had an idle air. \"Tired of the job, Charley?\"\n\n\"You might say.\"\n\nWoods smiled absently. His skin seemed as raddled as old leather; his muscles were hard. Charley wondered how old he was. Woods asked, \"Got money for the trip?\"\n\n\"I'll work my passage.\"\n\n\"That's a hard row,\" Woods said conversationally. \"Ever done much wagoning?\"\n\n\"I've done most everything, one time or another.\"\n\n\"Cross country ain't the same,\" Woods warned him. \"It's hard luck, boy. A lot of bones bleaching on that trail.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Charley said, \"then I'll learn something new.\"\n\n\"I guess you will,\" Woods said. Charley had him marked as a friendly harmless man. \"Good luck to you, then, Charley.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" he said, and went on up the street with his carpetbag, a solid youth, five and a half feet high and thick-chested. The shirt clung to his back; he owned no coat. The carpetbag weighed little. He bounced it by the handle in his fist, and swung up along the glistening brown ribbon of the street, past crowded buildings and corrals, and paused again under a long sagging balcony at the next intersection. The Triple Ace was a drab building across the brown, limpid trough of the street, its faded sign flapping on rusty chains in the rain. In the doorway stood the thickset bear-shape of Bill Randolph, the bartender. Bill was a sadistic soul. Without noticing Charley, he turned back inside and the door slammed. Charley stood where he was. A businessman came waddling along the walk, loose coat flapping, beaver hat dripping. The eastern sky was turning sickly yellow. Charley pinched his lips, thereby giving his face a waspish expression, and stepped down into the ankle-deep mud. It was red-brown in color, and clung to his boots, restraining him. He tramped struggling across to the gray face of the saloon, and stopped outside; and then impulse turned his steps away, and he went quickly back the way he had come, going into Jim Woods's saloon.\n\nThe room was heavy, musty, full of odors of stale whisky and dead tobacco smoke. The wood-framed clock behind the bar ticked loudly. Lamps flickered dimly along the walls. He found it no brighter than it had been outside in the bleak dawn. Rain dappled the high roof with sound. He stood just inside the door, the threadbare carpetbag dangling from his grip, and ran fingers back through his long ash-colored hair, splashing water down the back of his neck so it wouldn't drip in his eyes.\n\nWoods was nowhere in sight; there were no customers. The saloon was a big silent cavern until the front door squeaked open. Charley stepped aside and saw a long-fingered man in the doorway removing an oilskin slicker. The man doffed his hat, batted water from it, and went up to lay his slicker across the bar. He wore a black coat, and underneath that a yellow pinstriped shirt. There was a big revolver in his waistband. The gleam of his eye-surfaces matched the hue of the shirt, and now those yellow eyes flicked coldly past Charley.\n\nWoods came in through the back door and put on a friendly look. The yellow-eyed man said, \"Hello, Jim.\"\n\n\"Why,\" Woods said, \"hello there, Norval. I didn't expect to see you this soon.\"\n\nThereupon the two men settled into a conversation. Uncomfortable, Charley advanced to the bar. Woods looked around and said, \"Morning again, Charley.\"\n\nCharley said, \"You haven't got a sandwich left over from last night, have you?\"\n\n\"I reckon,\" Woods said. \"Stay put a minute, Norval. Charley, this is Norval Douglas. Norval, Charley Evans.\" He went back.\n\nNorval Douglas put out a hand toward Charley. His handshake was quick and strong. He tipped his hat back and a shock of hair dropped across his forehead, black and straight. At the temples it was shot with gray. It was a country of bearded men but Douglas was shaved smooth along the high cheeks and the shelf of the long jaw. Two deep lines ran from beside his nostrils to the corners of the mouth; otherwise his face appeared young.\n\nAbruptly he said, \"How old are you, boy?\"\n\n\"Going on sixteen.\"\n\n\"I guess some men are born old,\" Douglas observed. \"You show more years than that.\"\n\nWoods came back in with a tray of sandwiches. The bread had turned hard, edges curled up, and the salt pork was bitter, but Charley ate with hunger. Woods said to Douglas, \"Charley just quit his job.\"\n\n\"That so?\" said Douglas. \"Made any plans?\"\n\n\"Thought maybe I'd hook up with a freight outfit going East.\"\n\nThe yellow eyes bobbed around from Charley to the rainy street, and back to Charley. Douglas's long fingers scraped his jaw. With thumb and forefinger he flicked dryness from the corners of his mouth. Woods set a mug of beer before him and Douglas picked it up, and said, \"Any particular reason for going East?\"\n\n\"I've got tired of it here.\"\n\n\"This town's as good as any,\" Douglas suggested.\n\n\"All right,\" Charley said. Woods was drifting back along the bar, doing some kind of work there. \"What of it?\" Charley said.\n\nHe observed the constant traveling of Douglas's wary glance. The yellow eyes came around and for a long interval his glance clashed with Charley's, and Charley began to feel a pale red anger: he met those yellow orbs precisely midway and answered them with a challenge of his own. Douglas produced a briar pipe, packed it from a yellowed leather tobacco pouch, and used a flint-and-steel mechanism to light it, all the while maintaining the grip of his eyes on Charley's.\n\n\"What the hell?\" Charley said.\n\n\"You'll do all right,\" was the answer. Douglas's expression, like a natural law, seemed to leave nothing open to question. He nodded and considered the glowing bowl of his pipe. Charley noticed the big six-shot horse pistol that sat at hand in Douglas's waistband. \"I'll do all right for what?\"\n\n\"How long have you been looking out for yourself?\"\n\n\"Long enough, I guess.\" He saw the gentle upturn of Douglas's lips and added, \"A few years. Odd jobs, mostly.\"\n\n\"No folks, Charley?\"\n\n\"I ran away.\"\n\n\"And stayed away,\" Douglas said. \"That takes a little courage. What are your plans?\"\n\n\"I just told you.\"\n\n\"I don't mean just that,\" Douglas said. The pipe had gone out; he ignited it again. A thin column of yellow-gray smoke lifted from the bowl and even as far up as the high ceiling Charley could see the smoke fan out and crawl along under the boards, seeking escape. A man and a woman, arm in arm, went by outside, the man holding a parasol over the woman's head. Norval Douglas said, \"What do you expect to make out of yourself?\"\n\nCharley thought about it. \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"You intend to drift along?\"\n\n\"Isn't that what you're doing?\"\n\n\"Now,\" Douglas murmured with a quizzical little smile, \"what makes you guess that?\"\n\n\"You look like you've been around some,\" Charley told him.\n\n\"For a fact,\" the yellow-eyed man replied, \"I have.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\nDouglas seemed to know that the tables had turned on him, but he showed no reluctance to answer Charley's question. \"There's some satisfaction in traveling over the world when you know you don't have to become part of any place. You see things, you learn things\u2014but you're not touched by them unless you want to be. You see?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Charley said, not altogether sure. \"But when you get all through, what have you got?\"\n\n\"The most precious thing of all,\" Douglas said quietly. \"You've got yourself\u2014you know what you are.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Charley said. \"What are you?\"\n\n\"A man. All by myself.\"\n\n\"That's fine,\" Charley said drily. \"Must be kind of lonely.\"\n\n\"It is, until you learn that you don't need anything from anybody.\" Douglas glanced back at his horse and sucked quietly on the pipe for a moment, and said, \"How would you like to go to Mexico?\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"To stake a claim. Build a home and make plenty of money.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Charley said. There was a slight caustic edge on his voice.\n\nDouglas showed a brief smile. On his face, a touch of restlessness, a touch of isolation. Tough, he appeared, but at the same time mild. There was evidence of quiet humor in his eyes. \"Think about it,\" he said. \"There will be plenty of profit in it for you\u2014if you're willing to do a little fighting.\"\n\n\"Against who?\"\n\n\"Indians. Mexicans, maybe. Probably not, though. There will be a good many of us.\" He turned to leave. \"I'll be here if you decide to come along with us.\" Saying nothing more, Douglas put his yellow eyes once more on Charley, and went out.\n\nCharley watched him go, slicker flapping in the rain, until the lean figure disappeared into the gray gloom.\n\nWoods came forward again and put his elbows on the bar, and said, \"Fine fellow, that one.\"\n\n\"You know him well?\" Charley asked.\n\n\"Hard to say,\" Woods said cautiously. \"Sometimes I doubt I know anybody very well. People are hard to make out, sometimes. That's something you'll learn when you get a bit older, I reckon.\"\n\n\"I already learned it,\" Charley said, and left the saloon.\n\nOver the mountains he could see slanted shadowy streaks of falling rain. On the veranda of the Overland depot a fat drummer sat with his sample case in his lap and a bulging suitcase by his feet. An ore wagon drawn by eight teams of oxen wended a slow track down the street; the bullwhacker's livid calls echoed down the street. Two intersections up the street, near the Triple Ace, Charley turned off into a narrow alley. The air was still damp and cool but the sun now shot its rays down between buildings and the clouds were beginning to break up, receding southward, and he came to a little white frame house with pink-lavender curtains showing in the windows. Beyond this point were the scattered tents of the back of the town, littered in a patternless disorder. Charley turned up the stone-bordered walk of the little white house, passed between two precious strips of lawn, and knocked.\n\nWhen the woman opened the door, Charley said, \"Hello, Gail.\"\n\n\"Well, hi,\" she said. Her eyes were a pale agate in color, a little sharp, perhaps brittle. Her body was full-molded against the calico dress and she smiled a bittersweet smile, stepping aside to let him enter. He went inside, standing uncertainly with his carpetbag until she said to him, \"So you're leaving us?\"\n\n\"I guess so.\"\n\n\"Good. Good for you. If I had the guts and the money I'd go with you. I'm sick of this town\u2014I'm weary of fools.\"\n\nShe went on; she always dropped into these periods of feeling sorry for herself. He stopped listening after a while. On the round table was a mahogany music box with a cameo scene of a snow-blanketed farm implanted in its upraised lid. He saw a dark feather duster standing in the corner and, beside it, a woven carpet beater. It was a homey kind of room. He could relax in it, and that was a rare luxury for him.\n\nFrom his chair he could see into the kitchen\u2014the coffee mill with its drawer half open, the round-bellied stove. On the table beside him there was a mustache cup. Her voice came back into his awareness: \"Sometimes I think I hate everybody.\"\n\n\"I know how that feels,\" Charley agreed.\n\n\"That's a crying shame. You're too young to be that way.\"\n\n\"So are you. So's everybody, I guess. How old are you?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said. \"Maybe twenty-five. When do you figure to leave town?\"\n\n\"Soon as I can.\"\n\n\"Well,\" she said abstractedly, \"remember me, will you, Charley?\"\n\n\"I guess I will. Maybe I'll write you a letter.\"\n\n\"I didn't know you could write. I can't write.\"\n\n\"I'll get somebody to write it for me.\"\n\n\"You do that, Charley.\"\n\n\"I will,\" he said, knowing he never would. The whole hour was lame and very sad. He stood up and took his carpetbag to the door. \"Well, don't let anybody push you around, Gail. Listen\u2014thanks for everything, hey?\"\n\n\"Women like to play mothers,\" she answered. \"Maybe it's the only chance I'll ever have. You don't have to thank me.\"\n\n\"Thanks anyway,\" he insisted.\n\n\"Charley.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Do you need anything? Money or food or anything?\"\n\nIt brought him up. \"Why'd you say that?\"\n\nShe turned half away and put her hands on the lid of the music box. \"I don't know, maybe I like you too,\" she said.\n\n\"Why? What for?\"\n\n\"You're a good-looking fellow.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Well, thanks.\"\n\n\"Maybe I like to see something clean once in a while. You're still clean, Charley. Stay that way, will you?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" he said.\n\n\"Good luck.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"So long.\" He made a vague signal and went out. A cool wind had sprung up, it brushed his face in the alley. He heard the music box tinkling its tune and when he looked back he saw Gail in the open door with a sad smile on her face. Her shoulders stirred faintly; she pulled the sleeves of her dress up. The air had a bite in it. He went out of the alley's mouth, back into the street, and stood undecidedly watching the town. A scatter of horses stood around at the rails, hipshot and half asleep, now and then blinking or kicking or swishing away flies with their tails. The light mudwagon mail coach from the Sacramento run rocked around a last bend of the coach road into the head of the street, came forward bucking and scratching up mud, and pitched to a stop at the depot. The drummer on the porch picked up his sample case and carpetbag and walked to the coach, and waited. Front-lifted buildings with a beaten look lined the thoroughfare, and an enormous man walked across the street into the Triple Ace. The sky was fairy blue. Clouds were a mass southward; it was still raining down there, but several miles away. Puddles in the street flickered. A group of horsemen, Mexican _vaqueros_ , breasted the foot of the street and drummed forward, arriving in a swirl before the drygoods store, dismounting there. Charley went stiffly down the street, again tightening apprehensively when he went by the Triple Ace, and felt his mind going around in aimless circles.\n\nThe word _SALOON_ was painted across the face of Jim Woods's place in a crescent shape. When he stopped before the open-top doorway of the room, a stale weight of tobacco smoke and men's bored droning voices rolled out past him. With several unconnected thoughts idling through his mind, he tarried briefly where he was, then turned with a half-brisk snap of his young-wide shoulders and pushed into the place.\n\nHe found Norval Douglas sitting behind a table, with a solitaire game laid out half-finished in front of him, and a mug half full of beer idle by his forearm. Douglas's yellow eyes lifted and acknowledged Charley's presence, and Douglas said, \"You want the job?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\nCHAPTER 2\n\nHenry Crabb's eyes were deep and dark and brooding, set back in hollow sockets. His beard was dark brown and he had a habit of stroking it with his left hand when he was in thought. He sat in the deep-red overstuffing of the chair and looked across the plush parlor through the bay window, out across Market Street at the hazed-over waters of San Francisco Bay. Wind rustled the branches of a maple tree outside the window; it was mild for a winter's day. Across the room, seated stiffly in a cane-bottom chair, was the Spaniard, Hilario Gabilondo. Gabilondo was awaiting Crabb's reply, and held his neck rigid while he tried unsuccessfully to contain his impatience. Farther back in the poor light, Filomena sat quietly with her hands folded, and, looking once at his wife there on the divan, Crabb softened his expression just a little. She smiled wistfully. Beside her, her brother Sus watched from under heavy brows. Sus sat with one lanky leg thrown irreverently over the arm of his chair; when he noticed Crabb's glance on him, his teeth flashed out of his dark face in a friendly, easy-going smile.\n\nCrabb returned his glance to the window and considered the mists over the waterfront. He could barely make out the island. His eyes settled on that faint blue-gray outline; his hand tugged at his beard. He was thinking not so much of Pesquiera's offer, to which Gabilondo, having delivered it, now expected a reply; Crabb was thinking more of little faraway things, like the croaking of bullfrogs in the dark bayous and the smell of honeysuckle on a porch in Nashville. But Nashville, and the Baton Rouge bayous were half a continent and many years away, and just now he should not be drifting toward those things, and so he dragged his mind away from these little pleasantries and hauled in the anchor of his attention, allowing it to drag back to the mustached, sun-brown face of Hilario Gabilondo.\n\n\"Se\u00f1or,\" Crabb began, and in the corner of his eye caught his wife's slight quizzical smile\u2014Crabb spoke very little Spanish, and she liked to chide him for it\u2014\"Se\u00f1or, let me understand you properly, in simpler terms than I find in this flowery document.\" The document was in Spanish, and he was not confident of his reading of it. Gabilondo smiled courteously and leaned forward a little in the cane-bottom chair. He seemed perched on the edge of it in a subservient yet mocking manner. Crabb dipped his head and looked inquiringly at the Spaniard from under his heavy, lowered eyebrows.\n\n\"Has Se\u00f1or Ainsa read the agreement?\"\n\n\"I'll read it now,\" Sus said, lazily uncoiling and getting out of the chair. He came forward with his indolent long-legged stride, all his joints loose, and took the paper scroll from Crabb. Then Sus stood by the back of Crabb's chair, his hand on it near Crabb's head, while he read. Meanwhile, Gabilondo was talking in his smoothly accented and half musical voice:\n\n\"The agreement provides that in return for the arms and supplies that you propose to supply us with, you will receive the right to establish a colony of six hundred families in Sonora. Of course this will not be until we have secured office. It further provides that you are free to choose your own site for colonization, and that if your site is privately owned, our government will pay the purchase price on behalf of your colony. You are offered a year's free subsistence for your colonizers in return for protecting our citizens against the Apaches from the north. We offer no scalp bounty\u2014we have found too many weaknesses in that venture.\"\n\n\"I can understand that,\" Crabb said politely. At his shoulder, Sus finished his reading of the Mexican document and handed it to Crabb. With nothing more than a brief nod, Sus went back across the length of the room to his chair, where he resumed his original position, leg draped over the arm. Crabb tugged his beard. Irritatingly, images and memories clouded his thoughts. He had to push away a recollection of young people singing by dim lamplight on a manor's wide veranda.\n\n\"Through me,\" Gabilondo went on, \"Ignacio Pesquiera asks your help. Another gain you will make will be the recovery of the properties in the Arizpe district that were lost by the family of these two kind people at the time of our revolution.\" Gabilondo bent his head toward Sus and Filomena, who represented the dwindling power of the Ainsa family. He added, \"That is the sum of our agreement. Do you accept it?\"\n\n\"It merely restates my original proposal to Pesquiera,\" Crabb said in a muffled tone. \"It's entirely acceptable. Of course I'll agree to it.\"\n\n\"Very well, then.\" Gabilondo displayed all the stiffness and exact-courteous airs of a hostile diplomat; Crabb disliked him heartily. But he was accustomed to dealing with political men, and showed none of his distaste. He said, \"You'll find the arms and ammunition in a warehouse at the foot of Front. Here's a bill of lading\u2014you can advise me if the shipment is satisfactory.\"\n\nHe stood, withdrawing a yellow document from his waistcoat pocket, and crossed the room with choppy strides to hand it to Gabilondo. The Spaniard glanced up at him and read the bill of lading carefully. Presently his dark head moved up and down and he folded the paper, pocketing it. \" _Bien_ ,\" he murmured. \"Our fight against Gandara goes well. This will make the victory more quick and more certain. You have our thanks, se\u00f1or. How soon may we expect your colonists?\"\n\nCrabb glanced through the window and returned unhurriedly to his red chair, and sat before he spoke. \"My men are recruiting people for an exploratory party now. We should be able to embark within the week. I intend to take a party of about a hundred men on this first trip. That will be large enough to protect your flanks from the Apaches, and at the same time secure a site for our colony. Afterward we'll send for more colonists, with families. I don't believe women and children should be subjected to the rigors of the first expedition.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Gabilondo murmured. \"I understand perfectly, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\"Once your revolution is ended, and we have established accommodations for our people, that will be time enough for the families to join us.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Gabilondo stood up, a stocky brown soldier, holding his beaver hat. He moved to the door, turned to bow low to Crabb's wife, gave both Crabb and Sus his short, firm handshake, and left with a frigid white smile on his dark face.\n\nWhen the door closed, Sus sank back into his chair and considered his fingernails with lazy-lidded eyes. \"I do not trust him. He's a _ladron_ if I ever saw one.\"\n\n\"You make use of whatever you have to work with,\" Crabb told him. \"Sus, you'd best make ready to start our journey.\"\n\n\"My equipment is already packed,\" Sus said without looking up. Indolent as he seemed, he had a way of accomplishing things. He said, \"I believe I shall pay a call on a young lady. If you will excuse me?\" He smiled roguishly toward his sister, touched Crabb's arm in a friendly way and strolled out.\n\nCrabb stood with his hands behind him, regarding his wife gently. \"Filomena, your father will be pleased that we're acting to return his lands to him.\"\n\n\"He is weary of all that,\" she said. \"I don't believe he cares much any more.\"\n\n\"I'll wager he'll be pleased, just the same,\" Crabb said stoutly. \"Come here to me, my little bird.\"\n\nHer slight, willow figure came erect and advanced gracefully. She smiled for him and he thought that she was a very pretty woman. \"Little bird,\" he murmured, and kissed her lips with gallant tenderness, holding her chin with his forefinger.\n\nAfterward he put a hand to his beard and let his gaze wander absently under a lowered frown, and said, \"I shall have to see Cosby immediately. I'll be back presently, my dear.\"\n\nHer eyes followed him as he took down his greatcoat and hat from the foyer pegs and went out into the brisk damp push of the wind.\n\nHe signaled a hack at the corner of Sacramento Street, and rode over the steep-tilting cobblestone avenues past many rows of misty wooden houses perched on the slopes like balanced rocks, until the hansom soon drew up before a brown wooden house and Crabb stepped down, paid the cabbie, and walked carefully around a puddle while the hack went clopping down the street.\n\nGeneral Cosby's door was at the head of six broad weather-beaten steps. Crabb swung the knocker four times and stood tugging his beard until the door opened and the yellow-skinned houseboy took his coat and hat and led him into the parlor. The general's desk commanded one wall, beside the deep-scalloped window. The view was a bleak row of wooden houses marching down the street's grade like a mammoth stair.\n\nGeneral Cosby, loose-paunched and shirtsleeved, sat behind the desk sweating at the armpits. His short-cropped black beard made his face seem even rounder than it was; his eyes were small bright buttons set close together behind a pince-nez with octagonal lenses. His greeting took the form of a grunt. \"Hello, Henry.\"\n\n\"Enlist your army,\" Crabb said with force. \"We're about to move, my friend.\"\n\n\"How's that?\"\n\n\"Gabilondo just delivered Pesquiera's agreement to me. The matter is settled.\"\n\nCosby leaned back and pursed his lips into a little rosebud, as though whistling. \"Think of that,\" he said.\n\n\"Do,\" Crabb said drily.\n\n\"Well, that's good,\" Cosby grunted. \"Now we can be getting down to work. Sit down, Henry, and we'll discuss the plans.\"\n\n\"Aagh,\" Crabb said in friendly disgust. \"You haven't a bone of joy in you, old friend.\"\n\n\"There's time for that kind of thing. Afterward,\"\n\n\"Can you comprehend celebration? The occasion calls for a drink, I'd say.\"\n\n\"Very well. Chan?\"\n\nThe houseboy appeared in the doorway, his face round and flat and wholly expressionless to the eye. \"Two brandies,\" Cosby said gutturally, and the yellow face disappeared from the door. \"Now,\" Cosby said.\n\n\"Relax a moment, can't you?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nIt took Crabb aback. \"Must you always push, my friend?\"\n\n\"Until the objective is accomplished, an officer should not rest,\" Cosby said. \"All that comes to an idle man is whiskers.\"\n\nCrabb shook his head with a bemused smile. \"We've gained something important today\u2014can't you see that?\"\n\n\"Henry, you strike me at this moment as an eager young dog\u2014you have all the bounding enthusiasm of one. But there's much yet to be done. We can't sit back and count our rewards yet\u2014we haven't won them.\"\n\n\"You always prick at a man's pleasures,\" Crabb complained. The houseboy entered on padding feet, stolidly carrying a silver tray on which were balanced two goblets of brandy, deep and richly brown. Crabb accepted one and held it in the air. \"To our success in Sonora.\"\n\nCosby took a quick swallow and set his glass aside on the polished surface of the desk. He adjusted the pince-nez on the bridge of his nose and used the flat of his hand to rub his belly with large, circular motions. He was, Crabb thought, disreputable in appearance and manners; but he had been a good soldier and his strategic wisdom was valuable. Cosby said, \"I've just received the latest communications from the correspondents in Nicaragua. William Walker's filibusters have taken over the government there and President Pierce gave formal recognition to Walker's regime. But the Costa Ricans are up in arms and the most reliable estimates are that Walker's position is precarious, at best.\"\n\n\"He failed before,\" Crabb said, \"in Baja California. He's an unstable man. We can't count on him.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Cosby observed, \"it was his idea, anyway\u2014not ours. I'll be satisfied with a good deal less than Walker dreams of.\"\n\n\"It was largely a pipe dream anyway. To take over all of Mexico while Walker moves north\u2014to have our two victorious armies meet at Mexico City and proclaim the whole of Mexico and Central America a new republic\u2014the idea was absurd, old friend, but I enjoyed the pleasures of speculating upon it for a while. No, I'm afraid we must confine ourselves to more modest gains. We haven't the resources to recruit a force large enough to defeat Mexico, and the Mexican War is too recent in American memories. I doubt we could interest Washington in another war.\"\n\n\"I've reached the same conclusion,\" Cosby said. His grunting manner of talk was almost animal in nature, Crabb thought; but he put away his dislike of the man because more was at stake than personal feelings. \"Walker,\" he said, \"will have to look out for himself.\"\n\n\"Then that's settled.\" Cosby removed the pince-nez and blew on the lenses and set the device once more on his nose, and lifted his button eyes to Crabb. Crabb crossed his legs and went loose in the chair, gently swirling the brandy in his goblet and watching the brown liquid lick toward the edges of the glass. He said, \"As we planned, I gave Gabilondo the excuse that we didn't wish to subject women and children to the rigors of the overland journey. That should adequately explain why we'll be traveling as a party of well-armed men only.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Cosby said. He lodged his thick elbows on the desk and used a pencil to draw aimless sketches on a notepad while he talked: \"You'll sail by the end of the week, then. I anticipate it will take you at least two months' time to travel from El Monte overland past Jeager's Ferry to the Concepcion. Meanwhile I'll be gathering my force\u2014say a thousand men\u2014and I'll sail around into the Gulf. We'll land at Port Lobos and make our way upriver. I'll expect to meet your column at El Altar or Caborca. By that time Pesquiera should have done a fair job of destroying Gandara's power, and with any luck at all we should find Sonora in a state of abject confusion. I don't expect much difficulty when it comes to unseating Pesquiera, if we have to, but I hope he'll see our side of the matter and recognize that he'll be better off with us than against us. It's unfortunate we had to arm his men, but I suppose it's the only way to cut down Gandara's army. I must admit, though, that there are a few minor weaknesses in the plan.\"\n\n\"To wit?\"\n\n\"What will your father-in-law think of our venture, once he finds out what we're really doing?\"\n\n\"He'll still be getting back the properties that the Mexican government stole from him. I doubt he'll complain. He seems to have lost interest in Mexican affairs.\"\n\n\"Getting old, is he?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then,\" Cosby said, \"what about your wife?\"\n\n\"Allow me to handle my own domestic affairs,\" Crabb said, a bit drily. \"My wife owes no particular allegiance to the Mexican government.\"\n\n\"But she's still related to Pesquiera.\"\n\n\"I intend no harm to Pesquiera, unless he demands it. He won't\u2014he's a reasonable man. We'll offer him a good position in our government, once we've set it up.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Cosby said, standing up and thrusting his hand forward across the desk top. \"I'll have a thousand men well armed and ready to meet you at El Altar. But you've got to secure the foothold before we arrive.\"\n\n\"Done,\" Crabb said, and met Cosby's eyes while he shook hands.\nCHAPTER 3\n\nThe meal hung heavy and soporific in Charley's belly. He had a glimpse of his long-boned face in the backbar mirror and considered the dour hang of his young-old features while Norval Douglas spoke to him and Jim Woods stood by Douglas, listening.\n\nDouglas was saying, \"For the moment, we wait.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"Senator Crabb. He should arrive shortly. He's been in San Francisco, organizing his backers.\" Douglas's attention turned to Woods, who was raking hard-knuckled fingers through the length of his beard. \"Made up your mind yet, Jim?\"\n\nWoods moved his grizzled head, looking around the half-empty room, sweeping the bar and tables and hardwood floor. \"A long time,\" he murmured. \"This was the first saloon in Sonora town\u2014the first one in Tuolumne County, for that matter. It took four of us three weeks to throw up the original building.\" His attention dropped to the bar and he pounded softly with his fist. \"At first this was just a couple of planks we threw across some kegs. A long time, Norval. Damn near eight years ago\u2014we got here with the first of the rush, late in 'Forty-nine. They used to hold miners' court in here\u2014did you know that? Vigilantes hanged a man from that rafter, in 'Fifty-one.\"\n\n\"That was the boom,\" Douglas said. \"I remember it.\"\n\n\"Sure. You had to pay ten dollars for a pair of fried eggs. It's my feeling the gold will peter out soon. A good many of the camps have already died, and I expect this town will turn ghost too, one day. Sure, Norval\u2014the fun's gone out of these hills. I've made and lost half a dozen fortunes in this place. All gone now.\"\n\n\"Mexico has rich enough lodes,\" Douglas said mildly. \"Rich enough for everybody. That will be your wages down there\u2014a mining claim in return for your gun. Are you game?\"\n\nJim Woods's shoulders lifted and dropped. \"I've let grass grow between my toes long enough, I guess. Maybe I could build me a little cantina down there. Sure, I'll come along.\"\n\n\"Good enough,\" Douglas said. \"You want a drink, Charley?\"\n\nCharley lifted his head. \"What?\"\n\n\"Want a drink?\"\n\n\"Why,\" Charley said, \"I guess I will. Thanks.\" It was good to be treated without the kind of humoring deference that most men paid to youths. He saw the closeness of a smile behind Douglas's even glance; he accepted a drink from the bartender and sipped from it. Across the room a frock-coated professor was pounding the spinet, and on the sawdust square a number of miners danced in grim fury with the girls. The girls were powder-pink of cheek and had brittle, calculated laughter. When Charley looked at Douglas again, the smile had gone from those yellow eyes and Douglas said, \"How about it, Charley?\"\n\n\"I ain't decided yet.\"\n\n\"We may be moving out soon.\"\n\n\"I'll let you know.\"\n\nDouglas nodded. \"What about your folks, boy?\"\n\n\"Never mind them.\"\n\n\"Where are they?\"\n\nCharley shrugged. He turned around and leaned back on his elbow and watched the dancers\u2014clumsy stamping men and girls whose smiles turned to grimaces when their faces were averted. Charley said, \"The old man had a place over on the south fork of the American River, last I heard.\"\n\n\"You don't see much of your father, is that it?\"\n\n\"He's not my father.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"Stepfather. He's a Creole my old lady picked up in New Orleans.\"\n\n\"That where you come from, boy?\"\n\nCharley looked up at him. \"That's right. What are all the questions for?\"\n\nDouglas tilted his hat forward over his brow. His smile removed certain rough edges from his face. He said in a soft drawl, \"I just like to know what kind of a man stands in back of me, Charley. No offense.\"\n\n\"I haven't said I'd be in back of you, yet.\"\n\n\"All right.\" Douglas opened his flat-shelfing jaw wide to yawn, arching his back and blinking with comfortable satisfaction. \"The land and the mines are free for the taking. We'll colonize the place, that's all. But I've seen Apaches and I know what they can do. Jim, you make damn sure you can handle a gun.\"\n\nWoods looked straight at him. \"Yeah,\" he said huskily.\n\nCharley said to Douglas, \"Tell me something.\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"Why are you in this thing?\"\n\nDouglas considered it. Above the high bones of his cheeks, his powerful eyes were two symmetrical slits. Charley saw the fighting streak along his mouth. Back in the saloon there was a quick clashing of voices, overridden by the twang of the spinet. \"Well,\" Douglas said presently, \"you've got to function. I mean, a man's a functioning being. If you don't function, you're not a man any more. Nothing means anything until you step out and act. You've got to act, and you've got to believe that your action means something\u2014you've got to believe there's a point to it.\"\n\n\"What's the point of it?\"\n\n\"Yourself,\" Douglas said. \"Myself.\"\n\n\"I don't follow you,\" Charley told him.\n\n\"Look at it this way. Down in Mexico, all that land, all those minerals\u2014that land is there to be used. It's there for you and me to make something of it.\"\n\n\"Why me and you?\"\n\n\"Charley,\" Douglas said, and paused, looking down at his hands as though carefully composing his words. \"Maybe you're not old enough to understand this yet.\"\n\n\"Try me.\"\n\n\"Don't you ever feel impatient about something, when you want to be in motion, you want to get something accomplished?\"\n\n\"I guess so. But I'm still way behind you.\"\n\n\"Maybe you have to be,\" Douglas murmured. \"You're still young, you're still threshing around, looking for solid ground. You'll find it, sometime. You've got the bones of a man. But remember one thing\u2014the greatest failure of all is failure for the want of trying.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Keep hold on the truth. You're the master of your world, Charley, as long as you live by and for your own life. There's a lot of time in the day. Cover it at a steady pace, boy, and use it like a tool. Don't lose it\u2014don't squeeze yourself flat. When you see a chance, take it.\"\n\n\"Like Mexico?\"\n\n\"That's it,\" Douglas breathed. \"A chance like this one. If it's not too late. Maybe I've wasted too much of my damned life already. I've drifted around from camp to camp and army to army. I've fought Indians and panned gold, dug furrows and hauled freight. A lot of time goes by and you learn how to do this and that, and how to handle men. But all the time, Charley, the answer's right there\u2014in yourself\u2014if you look for it. Traipsing over the hills is a waste of time. Figure yourself out right now, boy. Don't wait twenty years.\"\n\nCharley couldn't tell if it was the whisky talking, or a wash of bitter memories, or in fact the zealous conviction that it seemed to be. Douglas was hard to figure out. Most of the time he seemed supremely sure of himself, almost to the point of arrogance. Charley didn't know. He had never troubled to ask himself what he was doing or why he was doing it, or what would come of it; until now, he had never concerned himself with the possibility that his life might have a meaning.\n\n\"I'll think on it,\" he told Douglas, and went from the bar.\n\nTo Charley, Crabb looked about thirty-five. He was not a particularly tall man. He talked with a clinging drawl; Charley had learned the man came from Nashville. Just now, Crabb stood on a platform of knotty planks surrounded by banners of the Whig party and the American party and a painted wooden sign with his own long name spelled out, HENRY ALEXANDER CRABB. Jim Woods read these words aloud to Charley. Up on the platform Crabb stroked his bushy goatee, threw his shoulders back and launched into his speech.\n\nCharley had heard several politicians speak, most of them office-seekers passing through town campaigning. Crabb's speech started off a good deal like all the others. He used a full stock of the old familiar vague words that were meant to give people a comfortable feeling of well-being and warmth. He talked about destiny, justice, protection, patriotism, sacrifice\u2014words that meant everything and anything, words that meant perhaps one thing to the politician speaking them and altogether a different thing to the people listening to him.\n\nAnd the odd thing, Charley thought, was that both the politician and the crowd were wrong, dead wrong.\n\nThe words issued sanctimoniously from the lips of the politician, who had probably never explored their real meanings, and the words fell on the crowd like water to cleanse their souls, to apologize, to make repentance for them, to reassure them that _they_ were not to be held responsible for whatever evils they had caused by refusing to trouble themselves to reason. And then the words would be flushed away, as Charley had swept away mud and debris from the floor of the Triple Ace\u2014day after day he would clean the floor, and day after day men like politicians would leave new deposits of filth.\n\nThe speech troubled Charley, and while Crabb spoke with massive gestures and glistening teeth and sharp-shining eyes, Charley began to consider more carefully the proposition of Douglas, the yellow-eyed adventurer. He did not wish to be led into trouble by a velvet-tongued politician. He knew that in Texas, the Mexicans had allowed _Norteamericanos_ to colonize\u2014and a war had resulted. Charley had listened to a great many men in his short term of life, and from what he had learned he knew enough to distrust the kind of piety that Crabb just now was preaching. It was far easier to trust a man like Norval Douglas, who was tough but direct.\n\nThen, with a barely perceptible transition that Charley almost failed to catch, Crabb was talking to the crowd in wholly different terms. Charley's attention now fixed itself more closely on the man and he listened with more care.\n\nCrabb stood with feet braced a little way apart, a blocky figure in a brown broadcloth suit. His heavy arms rode up and down, injecting hot impatience into his talk; and his deepset dark eyes were bright.\n\n\"My friend Ignacio Pesquiera, gentlemen, is now seeking to overthrow the forces of Governor Gandara. The fate of the province of Sonora depends on the outcome of this struggle. I can assure all of you who choose to follow me that Se\u00f1or Pesquiera's gratitude will be richly bestowed on all those who give him assistance in gaining the governor's palace.\"\n\n\"Listen to him,\" Jim Woods said drily into Charley's ear. \"Richly bestowed, he says. From what I hear, that's a hell of an understatement.\"\n\n\"Mexico,\" Crabb went on in a deep, round tone, \"is in a state of political upheaval today, and the man who holds a governorship is a powerful man indeed. There need be no question in your minds that Se\u00f1or Pesquiera can well afford to repay those to whom he is indebted, just as soon as he takes control of the province.\"\n\n\"If he takes control,\" Woods murmured dourly, and someone beside him said, \"Shut up.\"\n\nCrabb was continuing. \"I have with me, if you want to examine them, agreements from Pesquiera himself, whereby every man in my party will be granted both mining concessions and extensive land tracts in northern Sonora, near the boundary of the Gadsden Purchase. I'm sure you are all aware that the gold deposits of northern Mexico are second to none in the world\u2014not even those of our beloved California.\"\n\n\"Beloved, is it?\" Charley muttered. He had to move aside to see past the head of a tall man. The sun struck the earth and crowd and the smell of unwashed bodies was strong when the breeze lulled. Crabb paused to sip from a glass. His eyes went along the crowd and Charley tried to make out the meaning of the man's set expression\u2014was it contempt or only earnestness? Crabb said:\n\n\"A few years ago, Sonora was one of the richest provinces of all Mexico. Today vast _ranchos_ stand deserted, mines lie idle but rich, unclaimed cattle roam the plains by thousands, and all this great land stands ready for us to take it. All we have to do, my friends, is be prepared to stand fast against the Apaches. It is the Apaches who have laid Sonora waste, and it is the Apaches from whom we must reclaim it. This is the task Pesquiera wishes of us\u2014and, gentlemen, it is a task for which he is willing to pay.\"\n\nCrabb's pause was obviously meaningful. The day was warm for January; the sun was made of brass. Crabb swept the crowd with his chin-firm glance and said in a lower tone, \"Think about it, gentlemen. My men are among you, ready to take down your names. We will be happy to have all of you\u2014there is more than enough for all, where we go.\"\n\nBack in the crowd, some fool began to applaud, and the hand-clapping took hold and pounded in undulating waves of sound against Charley's ears until Crabb stepped down from the platform amid that steady roar. The gold camps were playing out; Crabb had found a willing audience for his promises of wealth and booty. The applause dimmed quickly until there was only one man smacking his palms together, and that too stopped quickly, as if the unseen man had noticed his own foolishness. Somewhere nearby in the crowd a coarse voice said, \"They got pretty women in Mexico. I always was partial to that brown meat.\" The man laughed shortly. \"Gold lyin' all over the ground, boys. Oil your guns, hey?\"\n\nCharley turned away with his head bowed in thought. He was suspicious of it all; something about it did not ring true; he did not know exactly what it was.\n\nThe crowd slowly shattered into small groups, each one a nub of excited conversation. Men drifted away in all directions. The recent storm had left the streets hard-packed and rammed firm, and there was little dust. Jim Woods, grizzled and hard-muscled, was going downstreet with a small group, all of them talking impetuously, gesticulating and laughing heartily. Crabb had disappeared, along with the frock-coated men who had shared the platform with him. A large figure filled the doorway of the Triple Ace\u2014Bill Randolph, the bartender. Charley's throat tightened and he turned, going down the walk toward Jim Woods's place.\n\nAt a corner table, Norval Douglas sat behind a large ballot box and a number of sheets of paper and quill pens. Douglas was busy recruiting; a queue formed quickly enough and grew until it extended almost to the door. Douglas was studying the face of each volunteer and every now and then he would shake his head and say a few curt words, and the applicant would curse him or go slack-jawed or simply shrug and turn away. Charley went to the bar, where Woods waited with a half-amused expression on his seamed-leather face and a beer mug in his fist, and Charley regarded the anxious line of volunteers with troubled uncertainty. He said to Woods, \"What does Crabb get out of this? I don't figure him for the kind to settle for a gold mine or a ranch he'd have to work.\"\n\n\"He's the leader,\" Woods said. \"He'll be the top man of us\u2014in Mexico he'll be able to speak for all of us. Some men need that kind of power. Besides, his wife's an Ainsa.\"\n\n\"What of it?\"\n\n\"You know the Ainsa family?\"\n\n\"Rich crowd up in San Francisco, aren't they?\"\n\n\"They are now,\" Woods said. \"They used to be a lot richer, when they was in Sonora.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"Politics,\" Woods said. He had a time-weathered face and a way of chewing periodically on an imaginary cud. \"When the new bunch grabbed the governorship down there, and the revolution ended, the Ainsa family got kicked out of Mexico. The government confiscated all their property. Crabb's made a deal with Pesquiera to get all that stuff back for his wife's family. Happens Pesquiera's related to them.\"\n\n\"How'd you find this out?\"\n\nWoods shrugged. \"I don't expect it's any big secret. Besides, when you run a saloon as long as I have, you develop a pretty good ear for news.\"\n\nCharley looked across the room at Douglas. Woods said, \"Want a beer?\"\n\n\"No.\" Tobacco smoke was strong in his nostrils. \"One thing rubs me. What if Pesquiera doesn't win? What if Gandara keeps control?\"\n\n\"That's a fact,\" Woods murmured. \"Think about this, too. What if Pesquiera wins the fight and then, decides he don't need us any more?\"\n\n\"Sure enough,\" Charley murmured. He looked at the diminishing line of men enlisting at Norval Douglas's table. Douglas's eyes came up idly and met Charley's, as if by accident; Douglas's eyebrows lifted questioningly, but Charley made no response of any kind. He turned and walked thoughtfully out the door and up the street. A long-slanting beam of sunlight cut through the western clouds to splash a faint redness on the town; in the quickening dusk, Charley looked up into an indigo sky and filled his chest with air.\nCHAPTER 4\n\n_Coronel Se\u00f1or_ Don Jos\u00e9 Maria Giron was troubled. He did not have the heart of a true _revolucionario_. He was a soldier, not a dealer in intrigues. And what troubled him even more was that today he and his detachment must guard from the enemy the person of Ignacio Pesquiera himself. The whole of the matter played on Giron's nerves.\n\nPesquiera was not very old, but his long beard already had a stringy and gray look to it. It was his fierce eyes that held you, that made you know that he was a man born to lead. Today he sat upon a round-smooth rock, his legs drawn up and long arms wrapped around his knees, and looked down through the trees at the wooded course of the river, the Rio de la Concepcion. The way he held his head and the way his eyes flashed indicated to Giron that the man might as well have been sitting upon the throne in the Governor's Palace at Ures. Pesquiera would be there soon, too. Nothing was able to stop him. Giron watched him and felt an immense respect for Pesquiera's leadership, for his strength and courage, for his wisdom. To Giron, a simple soldier, the man was great.\n\nScattered around through the trees, alert and armed, were the men of Giron's detachment, ready to lay down their lives to protect the person of Pesquiera from any sneak attack by the Yaquis or the _federalistas_ or Gandara's private guard, or whoever was in the field under Gandara's orders. There were so many enemies it was hard to keep them straight\u2014Governor Gandara had a fiendish skill when it came to welding together outlandish alliances. It was Giron's business today to protect Pesquiera against any or all of them.\n\nHe got up restlessly to pace the sloping forest floor. Below, in patches through the timber, he could see the river flash. The hot January sun beat down on all of Mexico, and particularly on Colonel Giron, who was a heavy man very much prone to sweat. His eyes were high and narrow, his cheeks round and his jowls soft and his mustache thick with a soldierly droop. His belly hung comfortably over the wide leather belt, and the skin of his face was very smooth and very brown. His fingers were stubby and thick, and played with the caplock of his rifle. Back in the woods squatted the patient _Indios_ , the breechclouted savages whose job it would be to load the coming cargo of rifles and ammunition onto the pack animals and take care of those animals. The Indians were loyal to Pesquiera because they were paid to be loyal. It made Giron shiver even under the warmth of the sun; every loyalty was so tenuous. He had never been able to develop the calm attitude toward revolutions that his countrymen adopted. Abrupt and frequent shifts of loyalty were not easy for Colonel Giron. He believed today in the republic, as he had always believed; for that reason he fought with Pesquiera against Gandara, only because Gandara had made of himself a dictator, and Pesquiera was a wise man who promised freedom to the people of Sonora. Giron stopped in a clear spot of sunlight and felt sweat drip from his armpits, staining the brown shirt he wore. Crossed bandoliers of ammunition weighted his heavy shoulders; the rifle was sticky where his sweaty hand held it.\n\n\"Gabilondo is late,\" Pesquiera said in liquid Spanish, and Giron saw the mark of impatience in the way Pesquiera's lips were pressed together. \"We cannot wait forever in this place,\" Pesquiera went on. \"It is too exposed. Gabilondo is an arrogant fool\u2014does he believe he is free to keep me waiting all week?\"\n\n\"I am sure he is making all haste, _mi general_ ,\" Giron assured him.\n\n\"Bah. I have never yet known him to make haste when his path had to take him through villages where there were women and _tequila. Mujeres y tequila_ \u2014except for these things, Gabilondo is a good soldier. But sometimes I could strangle him.\"\n\nGiron said nothing; he only put his troubled glance once more down the slope toward the trail that wound along the riverbank. The trees rustled gently in the wind.\n\nGiron removed his big sombrero and wiped sweat from his face with his hand. Soon again it beaded on his lip and gathered in his eyebrows; there was no preventing the sweat. He cursed mildly and tilted his rifle muzzle-up against the trunk of a tree and hooked his thumbs in his belt. His belly hung over like a loose sack of meal. I _am heavy_ , he thought. _Too much cerveza\u2014but the beer is so good and a man has little enough pleasure_. Back in the woods the Indians shifted around\u2014they were playing some kind of a game, throwing knives at tree trunks. They laughed and Giron swung\u2014\" _Sargento_. Keep the fools quiet. Do they want to bring Gandara's whole army down upon us?\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed coronet_.\" The sergeant gathered his legs under him and went yawning through the trees toward the group of Indians.\n\nIn the following silence a faint distant sound came to Giron's ears\u2014the creak and sway of wagons. His head tipped up and he saw Pesquiera rising, standing on the rock bareheaded and gray, a tall man of Mexico. \"It is about time,\" Pesquiera said testily, and came down off the throne of rock. \"Come\u2014we will go down to meet them.\"\n\n\"With care, _mi general_ ,\" Giron warned. By the time he had picked up his rifle and slung his sombrero across the back of his thick shoulders upon its throat string, Pesquiera was already going down the hill. Giron had to trot to keep up. He felt the loose fat of his belly bouncing. \"General, suppose it is not Gabilondo? Suppose it is the _federalistas?_ One should be careful.\"\n\n\"One does not win revolutions by hiding among the trees in fright,\" Pesquiera said contemptuously. Giron lifted his arm in a busy signal to his men, and felt somewhat reassured when he saw their white-clothed shapes flitting among the trees, coming down on either side with their weapons ready. He found himself puffing when they reached the bottom of the slope. Pesquiera stopped so abruptly that Giron almost ran into his high, broad back. \"We will wait here,\" Pesquiera said, and put his shoulder against a tree and his hand on the butt of his revolver. Giron's worried glance traveled from the trail westward to Pesquiera's indomitable face and back again.\n\nThe noise of rumbling wooden wheels grew louder and presently the first of the pitching wagons appeared below, coming up the river. With considerable relief Giron recognized the stocky dark shape of Hilario Gabilondo astride the first horse. Pesquiera stepped out into the trail and held up his hand, and when Gabilondo rode up Pesquiera made one dry remark: \"I see that you broke both legs getting here, my friend,\" and Gabilondo's only answer was a lazy grin and a wave of his arm toward the wagons that followed him. \"The guns are here, Don Ignacio.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Pesquiera grunted. \"Have them unloaded and packed onto the animals. We will travel through the hills henceforth\u2014Gandara's guerrillas still guard the main roads.\"\n\nGabilondo issued quick commands to his wagoners and stepped down from the saddle. He came forward leading his horse by the reins, and said with his stiff and precise voice, \"The agreement was accepted by Se\u00f1or Crabb.\" Giron noted a certain contempt in his tones. \"He will come down with about one hundred followers, to pick sites and prepare accommodations for his colonists.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Pesquiera said again. He turned into the shelter of the trees and stopped in the shadows, turning to look at Gabilondo. \"What did you think of this man Crabb?\"\n\n\"I do not like him\u2014I do not trust him.\"\n\nPesquiera nodded. \"He will be dealt with when the time comes. In the meantime, we must hurry these weapons to my men. With the aid of this new material, we should have the guerrillas driven far back in the Sierra Madre by the week's end.\"\n\n\"So soon?\" Gabilondo said. \"You have made rapid progress, then.\"\n\n\"We have.\" Pesquiera turned about and went up the hill.\n\nGabilondo came up, leading his horse, and put his distinctly unfriendly glance against Giron. \"And how goes it with you, _coronel?_ \"\n\n\"Very well, thank you,\" Giron said stiffly. Gabilondo always drew him up and made him go taut in the belly. \"Very well indeed, general.\" And he too put his back to Gabilondo and began laboriously to climb the hill.\n\nWilliam Walker had tried to colonize Mexico with a filibustering army; he had failed. De Boulbon too had tried in Sonora, and de Boulbon had died for it. Charley knew all this, and it did not help make his plans any more clear. After supper he encountered Norval Douglas on the street, and Douglas after fixing him with a cool yellow stare said, \"How are you, Charley?\"\n\n\"Tell me something. Why are you so anxious to get me to join up?\"\n\n\"Not anxious,\" Douglas said. \"Just interested. You're a good fellow, Charley. You stand on your own feet and you cast a shadow. If you want to know the truth, I see a lot of myself in you, when I was your age. I'd like to see you face up to something where you get a chance to find out about yourself. How about it?\"\n\n\"I'm thinking on it,\" Charley told him, and went on. The smooth, pale surface of the street had a silver sheen in the moonlight. A dark, crowded bunch of saddle ponies waited riderless and slot-eyed patient along the rims of the street. A _vaquero_ , mounted on a tall dark horse, left the stable and rode his animal into the street, his high-peaked hat silhouetted; the _vaquero_ let go a long shout, wheeled his horse and galloped away drumming up the street. Standing in a window's pale beam, Charley looked back at the face of Jim Woods's saloon. He wished he had a way of knowing what to do. In the gloom of the saloon's shadow he saw a shape standing lean and vigilant: Norval Douglas.\n\nAt that moment Gail came along the street. She stopped by Charley and saw him looking at Douglas, and said, \"Hello, Charley. Who's that?\"\n\n\"Friend of mine,\" he said abstractedly. Down the street, Douglas pushed away from the wall and went into the saloon.\n\n\"Is that one of Crabb's men?\"\n\n\"What?\" He turned about. \"Oh,\" he said, \"yeah, he is.\"\n\n\"Don't do it, Charley. They're a bunch of toughs.\"\n\n\"Are they?\"\n\n\"Do you have to ask me?\"\n\n\"All right,\" he said. \"What if they are?\"\n\nThe fragrance of her hair reached his nostrils. He couldn't make out the meaning of her expression. She said, \"You're better than that, Charley.\"\n\nHe uttered a crisp short laugh. \"Sure,\" he said, \"sure I am, I've got fifty cents in my pocket.\"\n\n\"Do you want money? I'll give you money, Charley.\"\n\nHe started, and for the first time put his whole attention on her. Her face was a sweet, solemn mask, willful and grave. He said, \"What the hell for?\"\n\nShe seemed remotely disappointed by his answer; she used both palms to smooth her long hair back. Her lips were set in a gentle way and the soft lamplight falling on her face made her flesh seem pale and smooth. She was not pretty; yet she had an arresting set of features. Her mouth was long, her nose uptilted, her cheeks a little hollow. But her eyes made her face appealing. Long, level eyes that glimmered. She was supple and round and she excited him, but out of a habit long ingrown he maintained his bleak old-eyed expression and merely said again, \"What for? I'm just a shaver, remember? Wet and green.\"\n\n\"You look big enough to me.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" he said, and frowned when he looked away. He was not a stranger. He remembered the brown flesh of Maria, the contempt in her look. He had been down the trail and seen the cribs of Stockton and Sacramento. The body of a woman was a wonder and a mystery but not unfamiliar to him. He had only half a dollar in his pocket, and he knew Gail knew it. That was what puzzled him about the misty near-smile in her eyes, brightening the interest already there. \"I ain't that big,\" he said, and saw her shake her head. The whores had laughed at him sometimes; they had seldom shown him any smile other than a calculated upturning at the lip corners and a brittle, weary look. _Maria_ , he thought, and cursed inwardly. \"What for?\"\n\nWhatever the answer was, it was only in her eyes, and he did not recognize it. He shook himself. \"Aren't you supposed to be tending bar?\"\n\n\"I let one of the dealers take over. I wanted some air.\"\n\n\"You've got it,\" he said.\n\nHer laughter was soft and throaty. \"Don't fool, Charley.\"\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"Don't pretend to be so hard. You're not that way.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\nShe laughed again. \"No,\" she said, in mocking echo of him. She directed one long-lashed look at him and said, \"Where will you sleep tonight?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I sold my shack two days ago. Maybe in the stable loft.\"\n\n\"That's cold at night,\" she said. \"Use my house. Here's the key.\"\n\nThe iron key dropped into his palm. When he looked up she was going away, back up the walk to the Triple Ace.\n\nLights sparkled out of windows. A small bunch of men came up the street, laughing and talking with hearty familiarity. They went past and left in their wake the residue of their laughter, soft and insolent and sour like a taste on his tongue. He stood alone in the shadows and beyond the roof of a low, flat building across the street he could see the branches of a tall tree swaying in the wind. The cool air bit through his clothing. It was a lonely hour. He puzzled, frowning, and presently settled his flat-slab shoulders, turning along the street. When he passed the stable's big open doorway, an earthy scent, damp and dark, issued from it. He tarried there. A dark tomcat shot out of the adjacent corral and spurted across the street. Wind made a thin hollow sound along the street; he was a solitary warmth in the night until a lantern came bobbing forward through the stable and the Negro hostler stood holding it shoulder-high. Its wavering flare glistened off the dark surface of his skin and eyes; his teeth flashed. \"Howdy, Charley.\"\n\n\"Howdy.\"\n\n\"Fixin' to spend the night up here? I don't mind.\"\n\n\"I guess not,\" Charley said. \"Obliged anyway.\" He went away, with the upraised lantern casting his shadow before him so that he trampled it into the dust when he walked. He turned into the narrow alley and walked slowly through it to Gail's little white house, and went in, using the key she had given him. Inside, he lighted a lamp and set it on the central table and turned its wick down low, and settled on a stuffed chair, from which he regarded the motionless, closed door through half-lidded eyes. Uncertainties troubled him, and too restless to lie still, he went to the door and flung it open and stood with the night wind brushing his cheeks. The image of a face wavered before him, temples shot with gray\u2014the hard-eyed face of Norval Douglas. He thought of Douglas and thought of the man's toughness and self-assurance, and wondered whether he should follow Douglas. Cool air freshened his skin and now he thought back to his brother Ed, and the thinking was not new. Ed was in his grave now, but that was of no matter. Charley remembered in detail the day Ed had left home. Ed had come out of the barn with the horse he had bought from Pizner's neighboring farm, and Charley had come out of the house in time to see Ed's belongings loaded on the saddle and Ed leading the horse up to the shack, a tall youth with long ash-colored hair like Charley's own; Ed had called out to the house, and then Charley's father had come out, his Creole stepfather, and behind him Charley's mother had appeared timidly in the doorway, saying nothing, only putting her bleak hollow eyes like dead eyes on Ed and holding Charley's shoulders with her veined knobby-fingered hands. Charley had smelled the odor of whisky strong on his stepfather and he had listened wincingly to his stepfather's tyrannical voice, strange and always unfamiliar with its French-Indian accents: \"Put up that horse and unpack those things. There is much work to be done and the Lord did not make you to idle away time adventuring.\"\n\nEd's answer had been gentle but firm. \"I'm leaving, old man.\"\n\n\"The Lord will punish your soul. Have you a soul, Edwin? No matter\u2014you'll be punished.\" His stepfather had drawn up his thin shoulders and laid his glance like a whip with flat righteousness on Ed. \"Unsaddle that horse now, boy!\"\n\n\"No, old man.\"\n\nHis stepfather had clamped his jaws then and wheeled inside; and only then had his mother moved, lifting her hands reluctantly from Charley's shoulders and going down to stand beside Ed, touching his arm hesitantly and saying, \"Go quickly\u2014he's gone after the switch.\"\n\n\"Let him.\" There had been a grimness in Ed's eyes and Charley had stood back against the wall beside the door, watching with mute amazement. His mother had stepped away from Ed with fear on her face, and his stepfather had come out with the birchrod. Charley knew the sting of it. Now his stepfather had come down with the switch and Ed had stood his ground. His stepfather's demeanor was that of a man half raging and half drunk and when he had lifted the rod, Ed had jumped forward and pinned his arm, and Ed, with his face pressed close to his stepfather's, had spoken hissing: \"You listen to me, old man. I've seen your pious preaching and your drunk crying and the way you like to push us all. I've seen it and taken it. I'm moving on\u2014I don't expect you'll ever see me again, only if I ever hear you've hurt Ma or Charley, then I'll be back and I'll bust a hoe over your whisky-logged head. Now drop that Goddamned rod and step away from me, you old bastard.\"\n\nIt was the only time Charley had ever seen fear in the old man's eyes. The hand had opened, dropping the birchrod, and Ed had pushed the old man back, coming forward then and kneeling by Charley. He had put his hands on Charley's shoulders and said, \"One day you'll be big enough to do the same thing, kid. I'll see you somewhere, when that time comes. But meantime you watch out for Ma and be a good kid, eh?\" Ed had solemnly shaken his hand and wheeled abruptly to his horse, brushing the old man with his shoulder, and gathered the reins in quick synchronization with his rise to the saddle. The horse had turned and Ed had ridden away, followed by Charley's wistful eyes and his mother's rising tears and his stepfather's hoarse recriminations: \"The Lord will avenge me! Let no man's son turn against the father\u2014damnation upon the son\u2014you shall lie in Hell!\" And the old man's accent had made Charley want to laugh and want to hit him, to smash that red-lined face and crush it soft. The old man's arms had ridden up and down in exasperation and rage.\n\nWhen Ed was out of sight down the fence-bordered road, the old man had turned and Charley had seen the angry round redness of his eyes. \"Let no one speak his name in this house again. He is no son of mine.\"\n\n\"Neither am I,\" Charley had whispered, and the old man not hearing him had gone inside after his jug of corn.\n\nThe cold night wind slapped his eyes, making him blink. He stepped back into Gail's parlor and pushed the door shut and went back to the stuffed chair. In a moment he was up again, turning the lamp wick higher and carrying the lamp around with him while he searched the place and presently found, in a high kitchen cupboard, a clay bottle of forty-rod whisky. He took it down and poured a mugful and took the mug and the lamp back into the parlor, and sat up with his drink nursing it while he tried to push dismal memories away so that he could think about the good hours\u2014riding the old bay plow horse up the riverbank toward town under a warm summer sky with dragon-flies and bees making strange writings in the air and underfoot the passing of a broad field of brown-eyed yellow daisies. A hunting trip when he was ten, his brother showing him how to pour the powder down the muzzle and grease the patch and patch the ball and ram the ball home, halfcock the big knurled hammer and cap the nipple, set the front sight in the seat of the rear notch and draw his bead, and squeeze off the shot, afterward stepping aside to peer past the gently puffed cloud of black powdersmoke. Skinning an antelope out. Lying on his back under a silent temple of green treetops interlaced across the cloud-tufted sky, an ant crawling over the back of his motionless hand. Tramping through a fall of new clean snow to feed the stock in the barn. Skipping stones across the white-rippled surface of the river, deep water clear as sun-green glass. The smell of grass and wildflowers and pine needles, strong and heady the scent of the land.\n\nThe front door opened and Charley lifted his head sleepily in time to see the woman Gail slip inside and close the door softly. The pink-lavender curtains stirred. She turned to face him, throwing off her wrap, and said, \"I thought you'd be sleeping.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe saw the mug in his hand and smiled. \"You don't miss much, do you?\"\n\nHe raised the mug to his lips and felt the amber liquid scald its way into his belly. When he put the mug down he grinned, showing his teeth. \"I didn't figure you'd mind.\"\n\n\"Why should I? Help yourself.\" She sounded jaded. Through the crack-open window he heard the wind making a tune in the streets. She dropped her gray knit wrap on a table, put her level glance on him and let her hand hang idly touching the bundled wrap. Her lips parted, seeming to cling moistly to each other.\n\nHe gripped the whisky mug again, tightly in his fist, and suddenly he had the strange feeling that he was experiencing the exact moment when the fluidity of his youth was beginning to crystallize into its final form. The wind, no more than a gentle and almost imperceptible breeze, seemed quite distinct in his ears. His hand relinquished the mug and slid back toward him along the surface of the table. He noticed the yellow unsteady flickering of the lamp in the corner of his vision. He felt the pressure of the chair's stuffing against his thighs and buttocks and back and shoulders. His head turned and he found his eyes fixing themselves on the strange incongruity of the empty, clean mustache cup at the end of the table. In the confused turmoil of his sensations, he was mainly aware of the girl's quiet advance and of his own hard breathing. He stood up, made irritable by a consciousness of his own awkwardness, and he said, \"What's going on?\"\n\nShe swayed when she moved; it was an unconscious gracefulness that was part of her at all times. She was so close to him that he could feel the flutter of her breath. She tossed her head back. \"You're a good-looking fellow, Charley. I hope your eyes stay clean like that.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" he said.\n\n\"You're fine,\" she breathed. He felt the soft touch of her fingers, toying with his sleeve, and then when she walked past him he followed her with his eyes. He felt afraid. She went to the kitchen and came back in a minute with a glass half full of red-brown richness. She sipped from it and looked at him with her long eyes over the rim of the glass. Her lips pushed forward thoughtfully and Charley said, \"What's on your mind?\"\n\n\"You.\"\n\n\"What about me?\"\n\n\"Don't be so damned innocent, Charley. You keep trying to hide behind your age.\"\n\n\"I do?\"\n\n\"Sometimes you're a little slow, Charley,\" she suggested.\n\n\"Well, maybe I am,\" he said. Her smile was, he thought, a little sad. He did not understand, but he did not need to. His experience taught him nothing about this moment, and while he tried to think his own feelings betrayed him: he lifted his hands palms-up and displayed great, inarticulate energy, but it was of no avail; he found himself wordlessly encircling the woman's body with his arms. He thrust his face forward and sought her lips. He felt the warm hunger of her mouth, the insistent thrust of her body, and yet, through all of it, there was a nagging corner of his mind that lived through this and was not touched by it except for a dim, faraway regret.\nCHAPTER 5\n\nCharley walked slowly down the street to Jim Woods's saloon. The hour was early; the place was almost deserted. Out of his last fifty cents he spent twenty-five on breakfast and the rest, in the course of the morning, on mugs of beer. Norval Douglas did not appear that morning, nor did Jim Woods himself. The wood-frame clock ticked loudly and rang the hours. The bartender told Charley that Woods had taken the mail coach to Stockton to see a man about selling the saloon. No one seemed to know Norval Douglas's whereabouts. Senator Crabb had returned to San Francisco the night before. And, the bartender confided, Chuck Parker was in town.\n\nMention of Parker's name made Charley's hands become still. It awakened unhappy memories of pain and embarrassment. \"Did Parker break out?\" he said.\n\n\"Released,\" the barkeep said, stroking his mustache. \"Served his time, I guess.\"\n\n\"Hasn't been that long, has it? A year?\"\n\n\"I don't exactly recall,\" the barkeep said, and went.\n\nCharley borrowed a pack of cards and played solitaire through the afternoon until at sundown hunger made him impatient with the game and he swept the cards together and turned them in to the bartender. Remembering that there was no money in his pocket, he made friendly talk with the bartender and managed to talk the man into slipping him a few sandwiches. He took one or two more from the tray on the bar when no one was looking, and that was the sum of his supper, consumed quickly in the alley behind the saloon. Afterward he drifted the streets, now and then stopping by Woods's place to find out if Norval Douglas had returned. Someone said he had gone out into the valley to solicit enlistments in Crabb's party. He was expected back any time\u2014but midnight came and went and he did not appear.\n\nThen, on one of his visits to Woods's saloon, Charley caught sight of a massive shape standing far down the bar\u2014Chuck Parker. Charley stood still. The big man stood hipshot, his narrow, suspicious eyes sweeping the crowd with constant wary intensity, and Charley was reminded of the brisk, perfunctory trial that had sent Parker away.\n\nCharley's legs were tired and when a good-natured gambler, flush after a winning streak, offered to buy him a drink, Charley accepted, sitting down at the gambler's table and listening with half his attention to the gambler's talk, which was the idle but insistent talk of a lonely man to whom few people ever listened.\n\nThe room was full of hearty people, drinking and smoking in large quantities and talking with loud and friendly ease. At the bar, Chuck Parker was signaling for a cigar and standing with the look of a man quite pleased with himself. His cheeks were round and his body was like a single square-hewn chunk of stone, with vast girths at thighs and waist and chest. His glance surveyed the room with cool detachment, passing over Charley's face without pause or recognition. _Well_ , Charley thought, _I guess I've grown a little, changed some_. Parker was regaling a few awe-eyed drunks with stories. At the table with Charley, the lonely gambler kept talking, and Charley listened to him, thinking none of this better than it was. There was a man slumped over a table in a stupor. One of Woods's men just then came to the drunk and pulled him from the chair and boosted him out the door. Thereupon the gambler who had bought Charley's drink said, \"Poor Tom. He'll be out in that cold damned street, and he'll tell himself he's cold, but he's not enough of a man any longer to do anything about it. He'll probably die out there unless some kind fool who still has dreams pulls him out of the street and gives him a blanket.\" And a moment later, smiling coolly, the gambler excused himself politely and left the saloon, apparently to hunt up a blanket. Charley's expression remained blank.\n\nWoods's professor was pounding the battered keys of the spinet, and the rouge-cheeked girls moved around the sawdust floor avoiding the stamping boots of the miners. A _vaquero_ came into the place, swept off his huge hat and laughed loudly, afterward making a place at the bar and calling for a drink. Charley wished he was a _vaquero_ \u2014they were always laughing.\n\nA husky miner with a pugilistic expression went by, bought a ticket and stood by the rope that defined the limits of the dance floor, waiting his turn. Charley felt in his pocket, and remembered he had no money, and observed that luck was truly indifferent, that you had to endure and reject it with equal sobriety, and that he was hungry again. One o'clock came and went. Chuck Parker was talking to a new group of interested listeners, and Norval Douglas did not appear; Charley remained in the saloon because it was cold and he did not want to sleep in the stable again. His lids were weighted. Men, eddied around, trafficked in and out, and gradually the crowd began to diminish and the volume of sound lessened. Chuck Parker shouldered away from the bar and backed against a wall, building a cigarette, covering the room from under the droop of his eyelids. Charley had a good idea of what was on Parker's mind. He watched the big tough with a measure of old contempt in his look. Parker was clearly roving, on the hunt in his animal way, awaiting the passing of some simple prey, and presently Parker's eye fell upon a small hollow-chested old miner who sat eating with his fingers at a table, alone in the back of the place, half drunk or more, with a round-butted leather sack at his elbow\u2014a gold poke. Parker's attention became fixed, and Charley pitied the little drunk miner.\n\nParker's cheeks were flushed red, broiled to their lobster color by the sun. _Road gang_ , Charley thought, seeing the raw marks of chain cuffs on the man's thick wrists. Parker pushed indolently away from the wall and rolled through the crowd out into the night. When Charley looked back, he saw the miner on his feet, swaying a little, pocketing his gold poke. His shoulders were stooped; his beard was ragged. The little man went bent-backed through the place and out the door. Knowing that Parker would soon be upon the miner, Charley, in a fit of accumulated unaimed rage, slipped from his seat and went to the door. He remembered a time when Parker and Bill, the bartender at the Triple Ace, laughing wickedly, had backed him into a corner and hurled obscene insults at him until his face had burned, and with his eyes redly filmed Charley had hurled a chair at Parker and Parker had been too drunk to dodge, so the chair had smashed his face, making his broad flat nose bleed furiously. In unreasoning rage Charley had cried out and Parker had growled and slung his weight forward, trapping Charley in the corner, and had pounded Charley senseless while somewhere in the background Bill was laughing.\n\nThat was Charley's memory of Chuck Parker, and now he wheeled out of the saloon doorway and saw the old stooped miner turn a corner two blocks away and fade back into the part of town that consisted mostly of board shacks and tents, where Charley had lived until two days ago. Charley hunched his shoulders against the cold and cursed his thin garments, and quickened his pace as he rounded that corner. He skirted the back of the big mercantile emporium and passed a row of tents and the frame building that was Madam Sarah's, and went up on his toes, running. A wide circle placed him behind a warped, weatherbeaten cabin, where he waited drawing up his breath for the miner to come by so that he could warn the miner against Chuck Parker. Parker would be along soon. Time grew shorter and Charley chafed.\n\nThe miner shuffled nearer and lurched against the side of a tent, springing its canvas, speaking to himself in a reasoning way, \"On down just a piece more, Ben...\"\n\nThe air had the chill of a sharp knife. The miner came past the edge of the tent, approaching the cabin. The moon was clouded over and it was hard to see anything. Charley was all set to jump out and warn the miner when a huge dark shape loomed in the night and fell upon the old miner, throwing itself upon the man's back, flinging an arm about the miner's neck and a knee into his back; the miner cried out softly, his body arguing ineffectually, and Charley held his breath.\n\nThere was a chance. In the shadow of the cabin, Charley stamped his feet, crunching gravel heavily. At that sound of steps, Parker jerked his head up. Charley stamped harder. Parker gave the miner a long shove and whipped about, racing around beyond the tent, soon going beyond earshot.\n\n\"Think of that,\" Charley whispered, a little awed by the effect of his own trick.\n\nThe miner was down flat. Charley went to him and knelt. The stillness of the man's body was indication enough that he was dead. There was no pulse, no breath. Charley frowned into the night and cursed Chuck Parker and then, after a moment's thought, slipped the gold poke from the dead miner's pocket.\n\nAfterward, suddenly afraid, he ran through the tent city, legs pumping, halting at last behind the livery barn. In that shadow he waited, trying to calm his breathing. Sometime in the ensuing run of time he heard a man's heavy boots tramp by beyond the stable and he recognized Chuck Parker's steady cursing. A little while thereafter the Negro hostler came out of the side door and shuffled away down the street, and Charley went inside and lay in the straw. The gold poke was heavy in his fist. He put his fingers inside it and sifted the gold dust between, his fingers. It was gritty, like sand. He could not be still, and finally he got up and went into the blackness, down to Woods's saloon. He pulled his shoulders together and shoved into the hot stale air of the place. His mind asked tricky questions; he went immediately to the bar. The bartender gave him a curious look and he said, \"Norval Douglas been in yet?\"\n\n\"No,\" the bartender said. \"Hear about the murder?\"\n\n\"What murder?\"\n\n\"Ben Crane.\"\n\n\"Who's that?\"\n\n\"Some old miner. They found his body a while ago.\"\n\n\"Shot?\"\n\n\"No. Neck broke. Funny thing.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Charley breathed. He looked around. There were very few people in the place. \"This Crane\u2014he have a family?\" Charley asked.\n\n\"Wife and daughter.\"\n\n\"They been told?\"\n\n\"I guess so,\" the barkeep said. \"Why?\"\n\n\"No reason, I guess. Where'd he live, this miner?\"\n\n\"Little shack right behind Cora's place.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Charley said. \"Well, I'll see you later.\" He went out again and stood in the street looking upward. In his pocket his hand toyed with the gold sack. It made his pants sag. The moon was a vague luminescence through the thickness of a cloud whorl. The gambler who earlier had bought a drink for Charley now came down the walk and recognized Charley and touched his hatbrim. Charley said, \"You put that fellow to bed?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the gambler said. \"I guess this is one more night he'll have to live through,\" and disappeared into the saloon. Charley pressed his elbows against his sides and looked at the sky again. His feet turned and took him down past the mercantile emporium. The night was very dark and still. A light was on inside the shack behind Cora's crib, and there was the faint sound of weeping through an open window. He felt the taste of despair. Lamplight fell out through that opening and splashed along the earth. A pair of men stood by the door with hats in their hands, and while Charley watched from the shadows those two men spoke softly and soothingly and turned away, putting on their hats and walking away, coming quite close to Charley when they went by, hands in their pockets and heads down. Charley waited until they were gone, then pulled the gold poke from his pocket. He bounced it in his open hand and then raised his arm, and threw the heavy poke overhand. It went through the open window and he heard it strike the floor. There was a small startled cry, a woman's voice. Charley whirled away.\n\nHe entered Woods's saloon and went blindly to the bar again. The bartender gave him a questioning glance. Charley felt a hand on his shoulder and almost jumped, and turned to see Norval Douglas's yellow eyes smiling quietly at him. \"You're freezing,\" Douglas said in his gentle drawl. \"Let me buy you a drink, boy.\"\n\n\"Obliged.\" Charley wondered how much the gold poke had been worth. His hand trembled a little when he lifted the drink, and he could not tell if it was from the cold. He nodded to Douglas and then looked past Douglas's shoulder, and his hand tightened on the glass.\n\nChuck Parker's huge frame filled the doorway, making an aggressive block against the night, and Parker's angry round eyes swept the room. Charley wanted to shrink back, but the bar and Norval Douglas stood there blocking his way. He flinched when Parker's hot glance passed him. Parker mouthed a silent oath and swung away from the door, disappearing into the night. Charley put his back to that and leaned against the rich brown wood of the bar. His hand was unsteady. He said, \"All right. Sign me up.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Douglas said. He produced a folded piece of paper, opened it and took out a pencil. \"Sign here.\"\n\n\"You write it. I'll make my mark.\"\n\n\"Full name?\"\n\n\"Charles Edward Evans.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Douglas said, and slid the paper along the bar. \"Put your X here.\"\nCHAPTER 6\n\nGiron's belly was soft from many bottles of beer. He stood smoking a cigarette, watching the bearded Pesquiera and the squat, strong Gabilondo. Crests of snow topped the mountains. On the Rio Sonora below, the capital city of Ures lay dusty and quiet. \"Once it was Gandara's capital,\" Pesquiera said. \"Now it is ours, eh, Hilario?\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" Gabilondo murmured. His evil eyes were slitted. Dark, stiff-backed, he stood looking down through the brush.\n\nGiron watched the two of them and felt in his heart certain misgivings. He stood in a mesquite's shadow with his horse's reins in one hand and the other arm braced against a limb of a tree. Clouds like unpicked cotton balls speckled the sky. It was a gentle slope down toward the town, and in the brush below, silent shadows moved\u2014an army of shadows stealing forward upon the unsuspecting capital. Gandara himself had already abandoned the palace. Rumors floated about: Gandara had retreated to the Sierra Madres with the Yaqui Indians to make war on Pesquiera from that stronghold; Gandara had fled to Mexico City to plead with the government for soldiers and aid; Gandara had made his escape by sea to South America; Gandara was dead. No one knew, in truth, where he was. But Giron knew one thing: Gandara was now the _ex_ -governor of Sonora.\n\nGandara had a brother, Jes\u00fas, who was more of a fighter than the ex-governor. Jes\u00fas Gandara had an adamant army of guerrillas, and it was against these shadow-fighters that Pesquiera's army now moved in the brush below. Jes\u00fas Gandara's men still held parts of the town. The action that was about to begin would drive them out, send them into the Sierras where they would have to join their Yaqui allies. Meanwhile, many leagues southward, Benito Ju\u00e1rez was leading his own revolt against Mexico City from the provinces\u2014and Giron was certain that the federal government would be far too busy with Ju\u00e1rez to spare any troops for Gandara. Besides, it was the federal government itself that had denied reappointment to Gandara. At the same time, the government had relieved Gandara's friend Ya\u00f1ez from duty as commanding federal officer in Sonora. Gandara and Ya\u00f1ez were finished; Giron stood satisfied of that. The government had sent Pedro Espejo to replace Ya\u00f1ez as commandante-general, and Espejo\u2014who should arrive shortly\u2014was a friend of Pesquiera's. Further, the government was dispatching one Jos\u00e9 de Aguilar, who had tried once before and failed to wrest the governorship from Gandara. Now, throughout the territory, Gandara's men were raising the cry that Aguilar and Pes-quiera were going to sell the state out to _Norteamericano_ filibusters. It was, Giron thought restlessly, very complicated. During Aguilar's previous attempt to seize the governorship, Gandara's deputy had arrested and imprisoned Aguilar. That was what had prompted Pesquiera to take up arms against the governor. During the past summer, on July 17, Pesquiera had besieged the capital here at Ures. On the eighth of August the city had fallen; Pesquiera had released his friend Aguilar from jail, and on the same day Giron had had the satisfaction of routing Gandara's own troops. Altar, Hermosillo, Guaymas\u2014all the cities had slowly yielded to Pesquiera, and today Gandara, wherever he was hiding, was overthrown.\n\nBut the ex-governor's brother Jes\u00fas still fought. Today it was Giron's mission to guard his general while the troops went into the city and rooted out the guerrillas. By the end of the day, it should be over. Jes\u00fas Gandara had but few remaining men.\n\n\"The attack will begin soon,\" Pesquiera said. He picked up a knotty twig from the ground and used it to comb his beard. \"Giron.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, general?_ \"\n\n\"How many men did you say you have in reserve?\"\n\n\"Two companies.\"\n\n\"Good. Very good. I am in hopes we will have no need of them.\"\n\n\"I, too.\"\n\n\"We will make use of them if we must,\" Hilario Gabilondo said, in choppy tones. \"Nothing must prevent us from routing the last of them. They are pigs\u2014they must be crushed. We will take the city at any cost.\"\n\nCity. Giron looked down upon the adobe-bounded square, the few narrow streets, the trees of the dusty town. _Gabilondo's glory is all in his head_ , he thought. Pesquiera said, \"You are too bloodthirsty, Hilario. In due time the last of them will retire. You can see the governor's palace from here, amigos. Tonight we will raise our cups and drink to one another in that palace.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" Gabilondo said. \"Tonight.\" He eased his muscular squat frame around to consider the sky. \"We have made a very successful campaign. Who would have foretold how short it has been?\"\n\n\"We have been fortunate,\" Pesquiera said. \"I only wish that Manuel Gandara himself were down there in Ures.\"\n\nGiron thought of him\u2014Don Manuel Gandara. About fifty, he was, of pure Castilian blood, a tall and muscular man. Ruthless, powerful. He owned not only the Topahui grant but eight or nine large _ranchos_ , with mines on them. Truly, he was a despot\u2014now to be deposed.\n\n\"It is my feeling,\" Gabilondo said stiffly, \"that Gandara is back in the mountains with his Yaqui friends. Friends\u2014bah. I pray soon he will find out just what kind of friends he has bought for himself. The Yaquis will give him little enough support, once they find his power has been crushed. _Mi general_ , I would like your leave to lead a party into the Sierra Madres. I will cut them to pieces and bring Gandara's head to you.\"\n\nPesquiera waved a hand flutteringly, lazily. \"You are too impatient, Hilario. Your thirst for death is too anxious. There is time for everything\u2014and if you hope to outwit the Yaquis in their own stronghold, then you are not as wise a man as I had thought.\"\n\nGiron listened to this conversation while his eyes remained on the flitting shadows in the brush below. Soon those shadows would achieve the rim of the flats. Giron observed, with some soldierly contempt, that if he were Gabilondo, then he personally would be down there to lead the troops. It was a general's place. But no; Gabilondo sat here safe on the hillside. Behind the hill waited Giron's reserve force of two companies\u2014peons, volunteers. Well armed, they were, with the _Norteamericanos'_ guns; but Giron had his doubts about their courage, their marksmanship, their fighting ability. He blinked. Ah, well; a man could but do with what he had.\n\nGabilondo's head jerked up. \" _Leche_ ,\" he swore. \" _Chingado_. The fools are too close to the open\u2014they will expose themselves. _Cabrones!_ \" Gabilondo strode away, leading his horse, mounting up when he had achieved the concealment of the tall brush.\n\nGiron stood alone on the hillside then with Pesquiera, and Pesquiera said in a tone of dry amusement, \"One would think that Gabilondo was mapping a vast campaign, instead of a small action. Ah\u2014here comes our new governor.\" He turned, sweeping off his hat.\n\nRiding down between the mesquites and manzanitas was a diminutive man, point-bearded, bright of eye\u2014Jos\u00e9 de Aguilar. Aguilar was to act as figurehead governor. It was, Giron knew, a temporary state of affairs meant to placate the government at Mexico City; in time Aguilar would be quietly disposed of and Pesquiera himself would step into his place.\n\nBut Aguilar, knowing none of this, rode forward with the proud bearing of a leader. Dismounting, he handed his reins to Giron and turned to Pesquiera, showing him no more than the deference a man shows his hireling. \"Here you are, my friend.\" Pesquiera only smiled slightly and bowed with exact courtesy. \"Welcome,\" he said softly. \"From this gallery, my governor, you shall watch the last act unfold in our little revolutionary drama.\" And Pesquiera, eyes a-twinkle, swept his arm off toward Ures, quiet in the sunlit valley. Giron, made uncertain and dour by intrigues, only watched expressionlessly. Downhill there was a horseman's hat bobbing forward through the brush, Hilario Gabilondo's hat. Gabilondo reached the edge of the open flats, lifted his hat and leaned forward in the saddle, galloping out toward town. Giron felt mild surprise to see Gabilondo actually leading the attack.\n\nIt was farcical; even Giron, loyal as he was, had to admit that. A few puffs of white powdersmoke went up from the town walls, followed a short time later by the distant crack of musketry. Gabilondo's regiment assaulted the adobe walls, swept over them and drove through the streets of Ures. There was very little shooting.\n\n\"A simplicity,\" Pesquiera said fifteen minutes later, when tiny figures on the distant town plaza were seen herding prisoners together. \"Gabilondo's great charge,\" Pesquiera murmured, and laughed low in his throat. \"Governor?\"\n\n\"Yes?\" said Aguilar.\n\n\"I trust you did not forget to dispatch a man to San Francisco.\"\n\n\"To General Cosby,\" Aguilar said, and smiled complacently. \"I did not forget, old friend. One of my best men left by sea four days ago from Port Lobos.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Pesquiera said. \"It might prove embarrassing to have Cosby crawling up behind us with his proposed thousand-man filibustering army.\" He turned to Aguilar and grinned, touching the small man's pointed shoulder. \"We must have none of that, eh, Governor?\"\n\n\"None of that,\" Aguilar echoed mildly, and Giron, frowning, wondered what it was they were talking of.\nCHAPTER 7\n\nOn the twenty-first of January, Charley boarded the _Sea Bird_ at its San Francisco wharf. He was early for sailing; the others had not yet arrived. Black water lapped at the gunwales and the sidewheels; the ship rubbed gently against the dock, and the gangplank swayed and bowed under his weight when he went up, hauling his carpetbag and rifle and the new overcoat his advance wages had bought him. The carpetbag was heavy with the weight of a Navy Colt revolver and its accoutrements\u2014bullets, mould, powder flask, percussion caps, cleaning gear.\n\nHe made his way to the sleeping quarters below decks and stowed his gear there, carpetbag and rifle, underneath a swaying hammock. This steerage hold was like a long low-roofed dormitory, with flat bulkheads fore and aft, and precious little light admitted by the spotted portholes. It was a bleak, windy Wednesday and now, at seven in the morning, the fog was beginning to clear off the bay. He went to a porthole and looked through at the teeming streets of the town. A Chinese with vast sleeves stood by the open tailgate of a wagon, hawking souvenirs at the dock entrance, his hair tied back in a pigtail. The town sloped up precariously from the wharves. Two large Negroes tooled a heavy freight wagon onto the dock and cables came down from the deck above, hooking onto the cargo.\n\nThe packet would not begin to board the Crabb party for half an hour yet. The quiet was unsettling. Charley took a turn up through the hatch and hauled out onto the deck for a breath of harbor air. Seamen were busy fitting cargo into a forward hold. The captain, a tubercular-looking figure in a shapeless greatcoat and seagoing cap, stood up on the Texas deck, arms akimbo, watching the activity. Charley saw Market Street angling up through the wooden town, and absently watched the busy early-morning traffic on that thoroughfare as he huddled inside his heavy coat against the cutting chill of the harbor. A sailor with his hat at a jaunty angle came rolling by and grinned at him and went on to the cargo hoist. An overturned lifeboat was lashed at the rail, hung on a skyhook harness. He walked around the hardwood decking, admired the teak trim of the Texas ramp, and presently found himself in the saloon.\n\nHe stood aside from the door to look the place over. For a steam packet, it was a large room, characterized by a worn scarlet carpet and massive crystal chandeliers and scattered, green-felt gaming tables. It was vaguely reminiscent of the interior of Jim Woods's place, but the bar was at the wrong end of the room; otherwise the resemblance would have been striking\u2014and Charley wondered if Woods hadn't patterned his place after some such shipboard room.\n\nOnly the bartender was present, arranging his stock behind the knurled-edge bar. Charley moved forward and took a cup of steaming strong coffee, borrowed a pack of cards and set up his solitaire game at a table. Solitaire was a good game. It kept your hands busy. Red ten on black jack. Red and black\u2014he recalled his stepfather's maroon shirts, brought West from Creole haunts, his black pegged trousers so out-of-place on a farm, his black-leather Bible and the red-amber shine of his whisky bottle, always near at hand.\n\nIn an hour the boat was filled with a crowd. Charley was on deck once more, at the rail. The captain was shouting down from his pilot house over the Texas deck. The teamsters on the dock made way for a hansom, and Charley saw two men step down: Henry Crabb and a Mexican, probably Crabb's brother-in-law, Sus Ainsa. Crabb turned and a dark, slight woman emerged from the cab on his arm. Crabb leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the woman's lips. She was dressed in black, which made her appear very small and fragile. Crabb touched her cheek with a finger and the woman got back into the cab. Then he whipped his arm up and the cab driver nodded and began backing the horses to turn around; Crabb stood on the wharf until the cab went from sight up the cobblestone street. Two men in livery were carrying luggage on board, and presently Crabb and his brother-in-law came up the ramp. Ainsa was lanky and darkly handsome; he moved in a loose-jointed manner and had an easy smile. Those two men went directly around into Crabb's cabin suite. From overhead, the captain shouted: \"Haul in the planks!\"\n\nThe forward plank was drawn up and the crew converged aft to pull in that gangplank. A crowd of men rushed onto the wharf and one of them bawled, \"Leave that Goddamn plank down!\"\n\nCharley recognized Chuck Parker and Bill Randolph in that crowd, a roistering loud bunch of burly men. The crewmen looked at one another with uncertainty; a man detached himself from that group and moved toward the upper deck, where the captain and pilot stood watching. But by then, Bill and Parker and the others were on board, grinning derisively at the crewmen. \"All right,\" Bill said. \"You can haul it in now.\" Laughing, he slapped a sailor on the back and wheeled forward with his retinue, a filthy mass of men smelling of whisky and body stink, hauling miscellaneous duffelbags and luggage, dressed in rumpled clothing.\n\nThe plank wheeled in; lines were cast off and presently the boat got underway, wheels churning, smoke lifting in a back-tilted gray column from the stack. When they steamed through the Golden Gate, Charley was at the rail near the bow, and saw the cannon emplacements of Fort Scott looming high overhead in the thin mist. The air had a flesh-biting cold in it and, huddling inside his heavy new coat, Charley went below, and found Norval Douglas savoring the taste of a cigar in the saloon.\n\nThe room had filled quickly. Charley leaned back against the bar. Douglas was observing the room's bustling activity with bemused tolerance. Above the high curve of his cheekbones his eyes burned and glowed. Charley saw the fighting streak along his friend's mouth and had the feeling that, if the mood moved Douglas, he would kill with deliberate coolness. His face, square at the jawbone, was handsome and sure; deviltry, planned or remembered, sparked in his eyes. He wore a clean brown cotton shirt and butternut trousers, and a belted Navy pistol.\n\nA voice beside Charley said, \"Whisky.\" Douglas looked past Charley at that man. Charley had never seen him before; it was a tall blond man, round-faced, who turned a flashing German smile on Douglas and said, \"We've met before, I think.\"\n\n\"I was with William Walker,\" Douglas said, extending his hand.\n\n\"Ah\u2014that's right. I'm Zimmerman. Correspondent for the New York _Times_.\" He turned and swept the room with easy eyes. \"A drink?\"\n\n\"All right,\" Douglas said, and introduced Charley to the man.\n\nZimmerman with his German smile said, \"A drink, son?\" and Charley shook his head. \"I'll take coffee.\"\n\n\"Well enough,\" said Zimmerman. \"Two whiskies and a coffee, bartender.\"\n\nNorval Douglas leaned back against the bar, hooking his thumbs idly in his gunbelt and letting his drink stand when it came.\n\n\"You're with Crabb, I presume,\" Zimmerman said.\n\n\"Is there anyone on this boat who's not with Crabb?\" Charley said.\n\n\"I don't suppose so. No one but myself and my sister.\" Zimmerman pulled out a pad and began to scribble with the stub of a pencil, making corrections in something he had written there. He spoke abstractedly while he wrote. \"I'm always curious to know what sparks a man to join an expedition of this kind. Is it the promise of adventure?\"\n\n\"Not particularly,\" Douglas murmured.\n\n\"Money, then.\"\n\n\"Why, I wouldn't say that.\"\n\n\"Just seeing what's over the hill,\" Zimmerman suggested, not looking up from his pencil work.\n\n\"That's close enough,\" Douglas said. His eyes appeared sleepy. \"I've seen the hills before, but sometimes I get the feeling I must have missed something the first time.\"\n\n\"You might say you were looking for answers,\" Zimmerman said.\n\nThat was all well enough, Charley noticed, but before you found the answers you had to know what kind of questions to ask. He watched the brown-amber swirl of Zimmerman's drink as he gently turned the glass. The correspondent nodded over his notebook and pushed it along the bar toward Douglas. \"See what you think of that.\"\n\nDouglas perched the cigar between his teeth, glanced at Charley, and began to read aloud:\n\n\"To the _Times_. I am enabled through the courtesy of one of General Crabb's staff, to forward you the following list of the officers of the great Arizona Colonization Company.\" His eyes lifted. \"Arizona, Mr. Zimmerman?\"\n\n\"According to your Captain McKinney,\" Zimmerman said, and added drily, \"He seems to feel that Sonora will be a part of Arizona before long.\"\n\nDouglas gave Charley a dour giance and went on reading: \"Their combined force is said to amount to fifteen hundred men on this coast, with large additions to arrive from Texas, under command of officers regularly appointed.\" Douglas shook his head wryly. \"There are ninety of us on this boat. Not fifteen hundred.\"\n\n\"The rest will follow. I have it on the captain's assurance.\"\n\n\"Good for him,\" Douglas murmured. He skipped over the officer list and read another page from the notebook: \"At present the organization appears only as a party of peaceful emigrants combining to resist Indian attack. I understand that its leaders intend to preserve this character and not to violate any United States statute until every arrangement is complete, when they will cross the line and with their allies in Sonora make their issue open and in strong force. Signed, 'Z'.\" Douglas handed the notebook back. \"Good enough, I suppose. Why ask me? I'm not an officer.\"\n\n\"That's exactly why I did ask you. Tell me, what precisely is your position?\"\n\n\"Scout and guide,\" Douglas said. \"I've been over the ground before.\"\n\n\"Yes. With William Walker.\" Smiling his round-cheeked smile, Zimmerman pocketed the notebook and pushed away. \"I'll see you gentlemen later.\"\n\n\"Obliged for the coffee,\" Charley said. He caught the correspondent's nod and watched him leave. Norval Douglas said, \"I wonder what he gets out of this kind of thing?\" and left the bar too, leaving Charley alone with his coffee. It was amazing, he observed, how little anyone could know about anyone else. The coffee had cooled down and he sipped at its tepid strength. In a far part of the saloon he saw two large figures\u2014Bill Randolph and Chuck Parker. A crowd of recent memories washed through him and in a moment he found himself thinking of Gail with a strange mixture of compassion and anger. The pale light from windows and chandeliers made a flat, almost vapid choleric un-healthiness of everyone's flesh. Charley retreated in stiff silence from the room.\n\nThere was no one below decks. He stood by his hammock and after a moment dragged out his carpetbag. The men in the saloon, he had noticed, were most of them armed. He tugged the belted revolver out of the bag, strapped the holster on, and held the gun in his hand, balancing its unfamiliar weight. The long octagonal barrel was crisp and smooth and straight; there was something clean and positive about it. He loaded it methodically. Dropping the hammer between two chambers, he hefted the gun and found it heavier than it had been. The weight of armed power amplified the two-and-a-half pounds of the gun. He slid his palm over the smooth hardwood grip and balanced the barrel over his crooked elbow, taking aim at a porthole, squinting with one eye over the tiny brass bead of the front sight. He imagined enemies balanced over that sight\u2014Indians, breech-clouted, leaping; Mexicans in battle dress; Bill Randolph in a soiled white apron. He pulled the trigger. The hammer was down; nothing happened; but in his imagination he felt the hard kick against his palm and saw the drift of clouded powder-smoke and the pitching of his stricken enemy. His eyes grew wide in the musty dimness of the hold. He holstered the gun and buttoned the flap over it, and went up the ladder with his shoulders straight and his eyes level and half-shuttered, in imitation of Norval Douglas.\n\nThe _Sea Bird_ swayed gently, paddlewheels thrumming the water. Smoke columned behind them like a trailing flag. The colors of the ocean were gray and green and brown-blue, with now and then a fleck of white toward the distant coastline. That shore was a ragged uplift of rocks and sharp-sloping timber, gnarled flatheaded cypresses and oak.\n\nThere was a man on deck at the rail. He offered Charley a cigar, then lit his own pipe and introduced himself: \"My name is John Edmonson.\" He spoke in carefully modulated tones, precisely pronounced; he seemed to be an educated man from far away. His cheeks were stubbled with gray, his lean face deeply lined. He had a long straight nose and mild eyes that made him appear gentle and thoughtful; there were two horse-pistols in his waistband. He appeared old. He said, \"Have you ever stopped to wonder about the sea? I wonder what might be hidden underneath that surface. A good many mysteries, I suspect.\"\n\n\"Sharks,\" Charley said. \"And stingrays.\"\n\n\"I should have thought,\" Edmonson murmured, \"that a youth like yourself would have plenty of time yet to turn into a cynic.\"\n\n\"Into what?\"\n\n\"A cynic,\" the older man said, \"is a man who believes the worst of everything\u2014and by the same token, believes in nothing.\"\n\nCharley thought that was a fairly accurate description of himself. He saw nothing wrong with it; life came to him that way, in hues of black and gray. He spoke with customary bluntness: \"You seem a little tame for this war party.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I am. Perhaps a few tame old men are needed among us.\"\n\n\"It's bound to be a hard trip.\"\n\n\"My bones aren't so old yet that I can't ride horseback,\" Edmonson said with a friendly smile. His voice was a gentle husky buzz. Under the rim of his flat-crowned California hat his hair stuck out in unruly licks of pebbled gray. He was tall, not bent. The sea traveled past without changing. \"I feel the need for lunch,\" Edmonson said. \"Join me?\"\n\n\"All right.\"\n\nOver the meal, the old man talked mildly of remembered things. He was a New Englander, and his nostalgic conversation evoked in Charley's mind fanciful pictures of places he had never seen. Edmonson's family, once wealthy enough to educate him, had seen the coin turn; his father, he said, had gone bankrupt and died soon after. Edmonson revealed that he had studied for the law, but ill health in the form of lung consumption had driven him West. His body had healed. The need to earn a living had kept him at the carpenter's trade; thus the calluses on his palms. He had never owned the talent for accumulating money. Approaching age had turned his thoughts toward a home, and Crabb had promised that\u2014land on which to settle. He said, \"I believe the prospects of danger are not nearly so great as some of us would believe. And where men will build homes, they will have need of a carpenter. I've found it a satisfying livelihood.\"\n\n\"Is that all you want out of it?\" Charley asked.\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Charley said. \"It just seems to me there ought to be something more than just making a living with your hands.\"\n\n\"It's more than sufficient to keep a man content. To demand more out of life is to delude yourself. In time you may learn that, my young friend.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\"\n\n\"What more would you have out of life?\"\n\nCharley would have to consider that. He made no immediate answer. After a while Edmonson said, \"There's another young man aboard, about your age. His name is Chapin. I found him singularly uncommunicative. Have you met him?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I'll be curious to see what you make of him.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Charley said absently. He felt no particular interest. Presently he finished his meal and left Edmonson to his pipe, and walked once more onto the deck.\n\nDuring the afternoon he spent an hour watching a dice game in the steerage, visited the engine room and stood deafened by the thump and hiss of the great pistons and watched the stokers move steadily with their shovels, men with glistening torsos and massive arms. Afterward he moved restlessly about the ship. Twilight came in shifting layers over the sea and the _Sea Bird_ rocked gently, big paddlewheels churning, engines thrumming. The coastline was somewhere out of sight off the port side. A brittle cold wind came off the ocean but Charley stood fast in the twilight after supper, holding the rail with numb fingers and staring into the darkening colors of the sea. He was beginning to know the fear of uncertainty: Why had he come?\n\nViolet and cobalt dusk, and up above on the Texas deck some-one lighted collision lanterns. Silence enveloped Charley. His face, long and spare of lips, grew sharp, reserved, bitter.\n\nAfter a stretch of time gray Jim Woods came up from below decks, made one turn about the rail, remarked to Charley about the cold, and went back inside. A crewman came along checking the lifeboat lashings; storm clouds were visible in the southwest. Overhead the captain came out of the wheelhouse and stood with the wind in his face, rubbing his arms. A cabin door opened a little way down the deck and he watched the correspondent, Zimmerman, leave that stateroom and come down the deck toward him. As Zimmerman passed alongside, Charley said, \"Evening.\"\n\nZimmerman started. He looked into the shadows. \"Oh\u2014hello, Evans,\" he muttered, and went down the stairwell into the saloon.\n\nCharley frowned. His eyes put themselves on the lighted glass of the wheelhouse; the captain turned back inside after shooting the sky with a sextant. The door beyond Zimmerman's state-room opened and Charley was surprised to see a woman's shape emerge\u2014no, it was a girl's. The girl came forward and Charley bit his lip\u2014she seemed to bear a strange resemblance to Gail. Her hair was tawny. He stepped out of the lifeboat's shadow, startling her, and introduced himself, using Zimmerman's name; he said, \"He told us he had a sister on board. You'd be Miss Zimmerman?\"\n\n\"Why,\" she said, \"yes.\"\n\n\"Going for a walk on deck, ma'am?\"\n\n\"Yes, I was.\" Her voice and expression were uncertain.\n\nHe stepped back. \"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you.\"\n\nShe nodded and went on; a short time later she reappeared at the far end of the deck, having made a circuit of the boat, and he watched her come forward. He expected her to go back into her cabin, but she did not. She came on and said to him, \"You look half frozen.\"\n\n\"I'll go below. There's a stove in the saloon.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said abruptly. \"Come with me\u2014get dry by the stove. Really, you must.\" She turned about and walked back to her cabin, and turned again to see if he was following. Frowning, alert but unsure, he went after her and stopped in the door, looking down. \"I didn't mean to bother you.\"\n\nThe girl reached forward and pulled him gently inside, closing the door behind him. Her smile was open and frank; but it went away suddenly and she blushed. \"I wonder what made me do that?\"\n\nShe was, he guessed, not much older than he was. \"You're shivering,\" she said, and moved him toward the little round stove in the room's corner. Its isinglass window glared redly. \"Take off your coat,\" she said. \"Why, you're soaked with spray. How long were you on deck?\"\n\n\"Longer than I thought.\" He shouldered out of his coat and stood bent over the stove, welcoming its warmth. \"I'm always doing stupid things like that.\"\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Charley Evans.\"\n\n\"I'm Helen.\"\n\n\"Hello,\" he said; his back was still to her, but now he turned to warm his legs and buttocks, and lifted his hand to sweep damp hair out of his eyes. The girl said, \"I suppose you shouldn't be here with the door closed.\"\n\n\"You're right. I'd better go.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"You'll freeze if you go out again. Besides, my brother keeps busy with his interviews and I have no one for company. I like having someone to talk to.\"\n\n\"Why,\" he said, \"so do I.\"\n\n\"There can't be anything wrong with that,\" she said firmly, and glanced at the closed door. Lamplight cast shadows under her brows; he could not make out the color of her eyes. Her face was oval and pleasant. She wore a long brown skirt and a white waist. He saw rising interest in her eyes; he let himself smile.\nCHAPTER 8\n\n\"After that,\" Charley said, \"I took On Ed's chores. He was six years older then, so naturally he was a lot bigger\u2014it about broke my back at first, but after a while I learned how to handle everything. The old man didn't do much but drink, and my mother quit talking altogether. The place got pretty rundown, because I couldn't keep it up all by myself, and the old man didn't do much work at all, he just went back to his Bible and his bottle, and I got to figuring that I didn't have an old man at all\u2014just an old drunk I had to support. I packed up and left when I was thirteen. The old man was pretty bad off with the whisky sickness.\"\n\n\"What happened to them?\" the girl said.\n\n\"It doesn't much matter, does it? Maybe they're still on the same old farm, him drinking and her crying.\" He stopped quickly. How had she drawn him out? He remembered Gail and he regretted having confided in this woman.\n\nHer lips were pursed; she looked up in a faraway manner. \"What have you done since then?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Worked. Odd jobs, town to town.\"\n\n\"It makes my life sound so sheltered and dreary,\" she said.\n\nLamplight flickered across his face frostily. His lips were pressed together. He didn't want to talk more about himself. \"What about you?\" he said. \"What are you doing on this boat?\"\n\n\"Our parents died last month,\" she told him. \"There was nowhere else to go. My brother brought me with him. I'm taking the _Sea Bird_ around to the East. I'll go to school, I suppose.\"\n\n\"How old are you?\"\n\n\"Seventeen.\"\n\n\"I'm eighteen,\" he lied. He picked up his coat from the bunk and held it near the fire to dry it out; he aimed a slantwise look at the girl and saw color come slowly to her cheeks. Her hair fell carelessly about her shoulders and a smile lay in suggestion behind the composure of her lips. Her body was rounded, a little heavy, and sight of it fed his desires. \"Maybe I'd better get below,\" he said.\n\n\"Stay just a little longer.\"\n\nShe was neither a whore nor a barmaid. He gave her a quiet stare and moved toward the door, sliding his arm into the coat. The girl, sitting on her bunk, threw her head back so that he could see the throbbing of her throat and the pale blue of her eyes. When he opened the door a frigid wind met him in the face. He said, \"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Thanks for listening.\"\n\n\"I liked it.\"\n\nHe went out, pulling the door shut behind him. Light beads of sweat were cold on his forehead. He stood just outside the door, hand on the latch, watching the dappled surface of the moon and the glistening reflections of the sea; the engines rumbled and the packet's deck swayed with the motion of the seas, and a man's figure came up from the saloon\u2014Zimmerman. Obviously recognizing Charley, he advanced with a swelling rush and said angrily, \"What were you doing in there?\"\n\n\"Talking. Thawing out.\"\n\n\"Hell,\" Zimmerman said. His smooth round cheeks were dark. He moved in on Charley stiff-armed. The blow caught Charley under the heart and staggered him; he found himself falling across the deck into the rail. Instantly there was rage; he came back, swinging clumsy round blows toward Zimmerman and smelling the stink of whisky on the correspondent's breath\u2014his fist hauled up from the waist and cracked Zimmerman's lips; and that was all.\n\nIt amazed him. Zimmerman fell back with a dull sound against the cabin wall, and stood there dazed, fingering his jaw. His free hand waggled and he said, \"All right\u2014all right. Enough.\" He worked his jaw back and forth with his hand. The door opened and the girl was outlined there, talking quickly, asking questions which no one answered. Zimmerman said, \"Sorry, Evans. I was drunk. No hard feelings?\"\n\n\"No,\" Charley said, \"I guess not.\" He looked into the girl's eyes and saw puzzlement there; he turned his collar up and went away, amazed by how easy it was to get the better of some men.\n\nRestless and warmed by exertion, he made a tour around the deck and went below. He picked his way past card games and sleeping drunks to his hammock, and took some time getting used to the bent swaying position he had to assume; then he was asleep quickly.\n\nRough seas wakened him at four in the morning, and he spoke a number of oaths while untangling himself from the swinging hammock. Several lurching men staggered toward the rear bulk-head, looking very sick in the weird lunging light thrown by the swinging lamps. Someone threw the bulkhead door open and the line of green-faced men plunged through toward the ladder. Charley swore again and braced himself against a post. Nearby a loose-hanging lantern heaved back and forth, and had the effect of upsetting his balance by constantly shifting the shadows. Men were shouting and bodies rolled past him in what seemed to be aimless directions. Sea smell was strong. A little pool of water moved back and forth near his feet. Old John Edmonson came by with a sickly smile, said, \"I don't believe I was cut out for this,\" and made his way to the ladder. Across the room, Charley saw Norval Douglas and Jim Woods give up their attempt to continue a card game. Two or three men came back down from topside, very pale, and one of them said, \"It's worse up there. The damned boat's upside down.\" Over it all was the smash of water against the decks and the steady imperturbable thrum of the engines.\n\nA man Charley knew from Tuolumne County, Sam Kimmel, rocked past him and bumped into the massive lurching body of Chuck Parker, and Sam Kimmel stopped abruptly, wiping his lips. \"Here you are, you son of a bitch.\"\n\nParker wheeled ponderously. \"What?\"\n\n\"I've been looking for you.\"\n\nMen were cursing and wheeling about the cabin. Kimmel stood fast, a small one-eyed man with an embittered expression, stubbornly ignoring the ship's vast movements; Kimmel said in precisely enunciated words, \"You Goddamned son of a bitch. I figured to catch up to you one day, you thieving bastard.\"\n\nCharley watched with mixed fascination and fear. Parker's hot round eyes sizzled against Kimmel. The lamps whirled and shadows danced. The boat's bottom struck a trough of water, jarring everyone loose, and Charley pitched down the steeply sloping floor until the bulkhead stopped him hard. When he looked back he saw an intertwined crawling mass that slowly took shape and became eyes and arms and legs. Out of that confusion stepped Norval Douglas. He braced himself against the wall by a porthole. The boat rolled over and the mass of bodies separated. Chuck Parker was still rooted by his hammock. His face was distorted with wrath; he bore down mightily upon the slight form of Samuel Kimmel, and then Kimmel pulled a pocket-pistol from somewhere and trained it uncertainly on Parker and shouted above the din of sea and storm: \"You've got this coming to you, damn you!\" Parker stopped in his tracks and Norval Douglas pushed forward, palming his own revolver. Once again the waves parted and the ship plunged downward, heeled over. Charley scratched for a grip. Dimly he heard the report of a gunshot, and when the boat slowly righted itself he saw Chuck Parker with one leg buckling under him, dropping to the deck. He lifted himself to one elbow and looked down and said, in a stupid voice, \"You put a slug in my leg. What for?\"\n\nKimmel stumbled forward and knelt by him. His single fevered eye peeredat the injured leg. \"Jesus. I didn't really mean to pull the Goddamn trigger.\"\n\nParker's sluggish features turned petulant. He glared at the black eyepatch. Kimmel said, \"I'm sorry\"\u2014Charley saw his lips form the words. Norval Douglas was leaning down over Parker. Kimmel got up. \"I'll find Dr. Oxley. Stay put, Parker.\"\n\n\"I ain't going anywhere,\" Parker said. \"You son of a bitch. I don't even know you. What the hell did you do that for?\"\n\n\"You cheated me in a card game,\" Kimmel said, and the whole thing appeared silly to Charley.\n\nMen were getting sick all over the big cabin and the stench became bad. Kimmel disappeared, on the hunt for Oxley, the surgeon. Parker lay regarding his wounded leg with undiminished surprise. His lips worked together. Norval Douglas knelt to press a handkerchief against the wound and stem the bleeding. The smell of vomit in the room drove Charley to his feet. He put his coat on and went stumbling to the ladder, and climbed out of the cabin.\n\nComing on deck, he stood aside to let the doctor rush past, and looked out upon a heavy ocean. The clumsy packet, bracing the wind, fell into a trough, and Charley fell across the deck against the railing. When he pulled himself up he saw a lantern break loose and fall flaming to the decks. The ship pitched over and the lamp rolled down the slanting deck to be lost in the sea. High spray extinguished the sparks left behind. A man, trying to tighten some ropes, rolled off balance and ran yelling down the ship. Doors slammed and cabins emptied their occupants into the night. The _Sea Bird_ wheeled ponderously over onto a precarious keel, and a cargo hoist abruptly broke loose and dropped into the cabin wall. There was a high sound of crushing wood, and then while the captain and mates came out on deck to observe the damage, the ship went over once more and the hoist slid back, smashing through the starboard rail and rolling into the ocean, immediately disappearing in foam.\n\nThe captain scaled the rigging and bawled, \"Helmsman\u2014helmsman\u2014keep her into the wind, God damn it!\" Figures came and went on the slippery deck. A freak turn of wind brought an unseen crewman's voice to Charley's ears: \"Raise her up, now. Heave!\" The ship bumped rock-hard water and the captain slipped from the rigging and landed hard on the tilted deck; he slid down the deck to the shattered cabin wall and pulled himself back from that and reeled toward the Texas ladder. When he came by, Charley heard him talking to himself in loud and angry terms: \"I'll keelhaul the man responsible for securing that hoist.\" And went on up to the pilot house.\n\nThe saloon door batted open and two men\u2014Crabb and Sus Ainsa\u2014were outlined in the dizzy light; the door slammed shut. Helen Zimmerman came out of her cabin with a heavy coat over her dressing gown and screamed when the ship rolled. She fell to the deck, climbed to her feet and windmilled wildly to regain balance, trying to get back to her cabin. The ship went over still a few more degrees, and the girl slid across the deck against the rail, grabbing hold. Still heeling over, the ship maintained a precarious equilibrium against the port beam, and a wheeling spar spun along the mainmast to knock a heavy pole down. The pole skidded across the deck and Charley saw it lodge against the girl. On that sign Charley let go his hold and half-slid, half-fell down across the deck to the girl. He lifted the heavy wood off her and saw it drop into the hungry sea. For a moment he was staring horizontally into the whiteness of the ocean. The girl moaned and grasped him in a locked grip about the waist. Charley took her at the shoulders as the ship plunged into another trough. Slate-colored sheets of water swept the decks madly. The mate came into sight crazily lurching and bawling obscenities into the night, and lost his balance, falling against the rail and teetering on it for a long time; the boat lifted its side and the mate slowly tumbled over backwards, sliding across the slick deck and disappearing down an open hatch. He screamed as he went out of sight.\n\nA whirling mass of men surrounded the braces of the starboard lifeboat, and when Charley noticed them they were trying to lower the boat. Some fool cut the cables, and the water lifted massively and came down all confusion over the freed lifeboat, capsizing it. The crowd backed up in horror, moaning loudly, and the captain shouted hoarsely from the Texas deck: \"Get inside, you idiots!\"\n\nThe girl spoke against his chest; Charley could not make out her words. He saw the bodies of struggling people battered about on the storm-tossed deck, and then a great plunging mass of water shattered over his head.\n\nBreaking over him, the force of the sea tore loose his hold on the rail. He heard a scream. The water carried him away from the deck and he had the awful sensation that he was going to drown. He felt the girl's hands hooked into his belt. The sea slammed them down onto the deck, whirled them about, pulled greedily at them; they bobbed and flattened against the ship. The foam rippled away leaving the deck high-sloping in the air. Head hanging down, Charley gasped in gulps of air and spray. He saw the girl lying across the deck and, beyond her, the eerie whiteness of a man's face, the correspondent, her brother. Zimmerman grinned widely at him and shouted, \"Hang on!\" And just as Charley sought a handhold the water swept over them.\n\nHe lurched about and when the water receded again he could not lift hishead to see the sky, but he knew by the gray light reflected from the deck that the dawn was coming up somewhere; he could see only the ocean and the glistening deck. The boat dropped stem-first. His hands were locked on a hatch wheel. Charley pulled in his breath. His legs were numb. The sea flashed over them again, impetuously angry but now in retreat, and when its fingers slid away he looked at the corpse-hue of Zimmerman's face and the dead-stubborn way Zimmerman was hanging on to his sister, and Charley wondered how it was that a man could give up a fist fight so easily and yet brave a storm at sea with level courage.\n\nThe _Sea Bird_ plunged up and down. Charley's nose hit the deck. He felt the warmth of blood in his nostrils and heard the muffled run of his own oaths. Zimmerman's voice shouted faintly across the few feet between them:\n\n\"Let's try and get inside.\"\n\n\"Go ahead,\" Charley said, forcing his tongue to form the words.\n\n\"Can you make it?\"\n\n\"I don't know if my legs will work. Go on\u2014go on.\"\n\n\"Jesus,\" Zimmerman shouted, \"I hate, heroes. Come on, Evans.\"\n\nHe felt the correspondent's hand tight on his arm and saw Zimmerman's other hand supporting the girl; he threw all his concentration into climbing onto the precarious stilts of his legs and hobbling on them across the swinging deck. Graysleet pummeled his cheeks; the world rocked underfoot and water dashed the boat with massed energy.\nCHAPTER 9\n\nThe _Sea Bird_ swayed deliberately. He found himself drifting fitfully into aimless dreams. There was a vast bright desert and a single staggering form, and he was thirsty; there was a high forest and the bounding white haunches of an antelope. Then it was dark, and the spray came over him, and water lapped at his feet on a beach somewhere.\n\nA hand touched his arm and he sat bolt upright.\n\n\"Bad dreams?\" Zimmerman said.\n\n\"Not so bad.\" Charley blinked, finding himself on Zimmerman's bunk, naked and wrapped in a blanket. Zimmerman stood by the stove holding Charley's coat toward the heat, standing with feet braced wide against the ship's heavy rolling. The storm, apparently, had dissipated. \"Your sister all right?\" Charley said.\n\n\"Yes, she's fine. In her cabin. We owe you a lot of thanks for getting that spar off her\u2014she might have been knocked over-board.\"\n\nSunlight came in through the open port. Zimmerman swayed slowly back and forth with the motion of the floor. \"How do your legs feel?\"\n\nCharley moved his legs. \"All right. What time is it?\"\n\n\"Noon. I guess you're hungry.\"\n\n\"I guess I am,\" Charley said. \"Thanks for putting me up.\"\n\n\"Your clothes are dry. Let's go down and get something to eat\u2014if the food wasn't washed overboard.\"\n\n\"Did we lose anybody in the weather?\"\n\n\"Not that I know of.\"\n\n\"Lucky,\" Charley said, and climbed out of bed.\n\n\"One of the sailors got a bump on the head from falling through a hatch. And one of your men\u2014Parker\u2014was shot accidentally in the leg last night.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Charley felt no particular pity for Chuck Parker. As Kimmel, who had shot him, had said, Parker had it coming.\n\nHis expression was dour when he followed Zimmerman into the mess hall. The room was crowded with a noon-meal crowd. At the captain's table sat General Crabb and Sus Ainsa and the officers. Charley recognized Oxley, the surgeon, and Captains McDowell, Holliday, and McKinney. There were half a dozen other officers whose names he did not know. Charley had seen most of them only at a distance.\n\nNorval Douglas and Jim Woods sat at the first officer's table. That was where Zimmerman and Charley sat down. A heated conversation was in progress; Woods was talking: \"\u2014you can settle it, Norval. You were with the Walker expedition in 'Fifty-four.\"\n\n\"It was a bloody mess,\" Douglas said imperturbably. His eyes acknowledged Charley's presence.\n\n\"There,\" said Woods. \"You see? None of them are easy, O'Rouke.\"\n\nO'Rouke, a commonplace man with a ragged beard, said, \"Just the same, this is different. We're going down there to protect them, not invade them.\"\n\n\"It will be fine,\" Woods said, \"if the Mexicans see it the same way you do. Hell, do you think we'd be gettin' such high pay if we wasn't going to be taking risks?\"\n\n\"We haven't been paid so high yet,\" Charley said.\n\nWoods turned a mock-angry glance on him. \"Leave that kind of talk be,\" he said with a friendly tone. \"There's always one joker like you in the crowd, Charley. You're a God-awful pessimist.\"\n\n\"What I see makes me that way,\" Charley said, and bit into his meal.\n\nThe conversation continued between Woods and O'Rouke. Norval Douglas paid little attention to it. After a while his yellow eyes came around to Charley and he said, \"I understand you did a nice piece of work last night. Didn't get hurt, did you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"That was a mean blow.\"\n\n\"I hope I don't see another one like it,\" Zimmerman said.\n\n\"We lost a cargo hoist,\" Woods put in. \"That'll make unloading pretty slow at the dock tomorrow.\"\n\n\"There's no hurry,\" Douglas said, and got up to leave, a tooth-pick in hand. His lean form ambled out of the room and soon the tables emptied.\n\nWhen he came out on deck into the warming sun of the early afternoon, Charley found a youth lounging at the rail. He remembered that old John Edmonson had told him there was another young man in the party; restless, Charley went toward the youth, who was tall and very thin with tousled dark hair and an underslung chin. Charley said, \"You in the Crabb outfit?\"\n\nThe youth gave him a stare of evident discomposure and said nervously, \"Yes\u2014yes.\" His eyes were fever-bright.\n\n\"I'm Charley Evans.\"\n\n\"Carl Chapin.\" The thin youth accepted Charley's handshake and once more turned his troubled glance out to sea. Out there he seemed to be seeing the darkness of his own future. The paddlewheels churned with steady grunts and regular splashes. A tall column of smoke drifted away aft of the stack. Charley found himself in a mood commensurate with Chapin's silence, a sleepy kind of mood with his mind clothed in a mist of uncertainties; the ocean's impenetrable vastness made for a silent, threatening loneliness that no amount of human company could offset. Out beyond the grinding paddles, not a single sound broke the stillness for hundreds of miles. He shook himself and looked at the pallid youth beside him; he said, \"You look kind of young for this kind of business.\"\n\n\"So do you.\"\n\n\"That's different,\" Charley said. \"I'm forty years older than I look.\"\n\nThe youth gave him a strange glance and, like a dog bristling against a faint unfamiliar scent, lifted his guard, pushing Charley out of his presence. It irritated Charley; he gave Chapin a deliberate glance and when the youth put cool, almost indifferent eyes on him, Charley said, \"I'm in McDowell's company.\"\n\n\"So am I.\"\n\n\"We ought to stick together,\" Charley said. \"You and me, we're the only ones in the bunch not old enough to vote.\"\n\n\"I don't want to vote,\" Carl Chapin said, and swung abruptly from the rail toward the hatch that led down by ladder into the cabin in the hold. Charley watched him go, angered a little by the youth's rebuff, but presently forgot about it and rested his lazy attention on the gray-green infinity of the sea. Fine short wrinkles converged around his eyes and he thought he could see, just on the eastern horizon, the rise of a blue strip of land. It was hard to tell; it might have been clouds.\n\nHe felt weight behind him and turned to see a heavy figure standing with a cool smile\u2014Bill Randolph. Sudden apprehension went through Charley's nerves. A chill ran down his back and Bill said, \"All healed up, kid?\"\n\n\"I reckon so,\" he said, remembering a recent beating he had suffered at Bill's hands.\n\n\"That's good,\" Bill said. \"I didn't mean you no harm. You made me kind of mad and I was in a lousy mood that day.\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nCharley had worked under Bill at the Triple Ace for a long time. He had come to know the big bartender's tempers. Some-times Bill became loquacious. Today he seemed in one of those turns of mind; he said, \"You know, it's a funny thing.\"\n\n\"What is?\"\n\n\"There was a woman back in Sonora. You recollect the barmaid?\"\n\n\"Gail? I remember her.\" Charley kept a seal on his expression.\n\n\"Night before we left, she damn near clawed me to death. See that scab on my neck?\" Bill thrust his head forward, turning it, peeling back his dirty shirt collar with a finger.\n\n\"I see it.\"\n\n\"She's a bitch,\" Bill said, and hooked a bootheel over the lower rail. \"All women are bitches. Good for one night at a time. You know that, kid?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Charley said.\n\n\"Ain't no maybe about it. Ain't nothing so treacherous as a Goddamned woman.\" Bill turned and walked away. Five paces distant he paused and turned, and seemed about to speak. But he held his tongue. Charley looked curiously at him and Bill turned twice around, then said, \"No hard feelings, hey, kid?\"\n\nCharley just looked at him. Bill said, \"I mean it. I ain't got nothing against you. The bitch had me in a lousy mood and I took it out on you.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Charley said. \"Forget it.\"\n\n\"You're a good kid,\" Bill said, and went.\n\nCharley wondered what had prompted him. It didn't make much difference. Gail was a long way behind him, no more than a memory of brief friendship and brief pleasure. Perhaps Bill was right. The sea was all chopped up in little pieces and had a flinty glitter. The smell of it was part of everything. He stood with somber gravity, touched the small handful of coins in his pocket and knew that privation had at least taught him the unimportance of most of what he did not have. He wondered why he had come here and why the sea was.\n\nHe turned and went around to the starboard side and faced the west, the ocean without limits, and put his back to that when he knocked on Helen Zimmerman's door.\n\nThe first thing she said was, \"I wanted to thank you.\"\n\n\"Never mind. How do you feel?\"\n\n\"I feel fine,\" she said. \"Come in, Charley.\"\n\nShe let him in and, he noticed, left the door open when she came around and sat on the edge of the bunk. Charley said, \"Now that we've known each other two days, we ought to be old friends.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nHe went to the door and put his hand on it as if about to close it; he looked across the deck at the gentle lift and drop of the sea, and he left the door as it was, turning around toward her.\n\nShe wore a dove-gray dress with a high collar and her slim, smooth hands were folded in her lap, oddly delicate against the heaviness of her body. Her face still showed high color, the mark of last night's adventure. Her eyes were round and smiled a little. The throb of engines kept the place vibrating. He sat down on the bunk with a space between them and looked sideways at her. He remembered a place he had seen once in the Sierra Nevadas where the trail passed through a rich meadow of deep tangled grass, and in the shallows of a creek clear water chuckled. He said, \"Don't you get scared?\"\n\n\"I was scared last night.\"\n\n\"I don't mean that.\"\n\n\"Then what?\"\n\n\"You're the only woman on this boat. A hundred-odd men and damned few of them honest.\"\n\n\"You're honest, aren't you?\"\n\nHe felt his nerves string tight. \"No,\" he said. \"Three days ago I stole a miner's poke.\"\n\nHer glance drifted away. She had nothing to say, but he knew she was disappointed.\n\nHe studied his fingers, the grain of wood in the floorboards, the metal hasp of her trunk on the floor. \"I gave the money back to his wife\u2014his widow, I guess you'd say. He would have been robbed anyway. I just beat him to it.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Another thief. The man who killed him. The one who got shot last night.\" He flicked a fast look, but her eyes were averted. She displayed a kind of brooding indifference. \"Hey,\" he said. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\nHe had no ready answer. \"For saying anything. For rolling the miner. Maybe for giving the gold back. Hell, I don't know. I wish you didn't know about it\u2014I wish it hadn't happened.\"\n\n\"You saw this man kill him?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But you didn't report it.\"\n\n\"No. I guess that wasn't right, was it?\"\n\n\"I guess not,\" she said. Then he saw her eyes lift, full of something he could not identify, perhaps interest and perhaps fear, or something else altogether. He said, \"I made a bad guess. Why is it you can be good all your life, and then do one bad thing, and be marked bad from then on?\"\n\n\"You're only bad if you think you are.\" She was watching him earnestly but he didn't believe her. \"You're not bad, Charley. Not after what you did last night.\"\n\n\"That was selfish.\"\n\n\"Was it?\"\n\n\"Sure. I did it for myself. I like you.\"\n\n\"It's still not selfish. You could have stayed below where it was safe.\"\n\n\"They were all sick down there. It smelled like hell.\"\n\nHer smile was gentle and it made him loosen up. He leaned back on his elbows and crossed his legs and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. \"Maybe I ought to say something about Parker to one of the officers.\" When she did not encourage him, he said, \"Would you like me to do that?\"\n\n\"Don't do anything on my account.\" She added, \"Don't do anything until you know it's right.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" he said, \"what's right?\"\n\n\"You've got to know that for yourself.\"\n\nShe wasn't much help. A breath of cool sea air came in through the open door; someone strolled by outside. He said, \"I can't get your brother figured out.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Last night when he caught me here, he picked a fight with me. I hit him a good one, and he quit cold. I figured him for a coward then. But later on, he came out there and hauled both of us inside out of the weather. That took guts.\"\n\n\"Maybe one thing was more important than the other,\" she said. \"I was there, and if you'd hurt me, I would have said so. He knew that, and that's why he didn't keep fighting with you.\"\n\n\"I guess so.\" Charley thought about it. He found things rubbing off on him from all kinds of people. He let himself lie flat, legs dangling over the side of the bunk. His hands were laced under the back of his head and he felt the satisfying tough hardness of his stomach muscles stretching. Seeing the girl's turned face from the back and side, he watched her with grave care in silence until she said, \"I don't ordinarily let men in my room.\"\n\n\"Smart,\" he said. \"Maybe you shouldn't have let me in. I usually don't treat women as well as I've treated you.\"\n\nShe looked surprised. \"Oh, now, you're not as tough as all that. I'm not afraid.\"\n\nA sarcastic rejoinder crossed his mind and he thought it might be amusing to voice it, but he kept it to himself and was, there-after, puzzled by his own reticence and sudden gentility before this girl.\n\n\"You're young, but you've known a few women,\" she said.\n\n\"None like you.\"\n\nShe made him feel that she regarded it as more than just a silly boyish compliment. Uneasy, he got to his feet and stood holding the edge of the door high in one hand. Half-leaning on his arm that way, he said, \"I guess you and your brother won't be going on with us?\"\n\n\"No. We'll stay in San Pedro.\"\n\nA distinct regret crossed his feelings. \"I guess that's better. It'll be a rough trip overland. Maybe I'll see you again when this is all over. Damn\u2014we'll be in San Pedro tomorrow. Where will you be in a year's time?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"you meet somebody and then you go away. Is that all there is to it?\"\n\n\"If it is, isn't it good enough?\" she asked. \"We've had this much. We've met, we've learned a little about each other.\"\n\nHe felt disappointed and low. \"It's a long way to Mexico.\"\n\n\"I'd like to see it sometime. They say it's very beautiful.\"\n\n\"I never thought of it that way,\" Charley said. \"What's the name of the school you'll be at back East?\"\n\n\"Here,\" she said. \"I'll write it down for you.\"\n\nWhen she handed him the slip of paper he looked at it as if it were clear to him, folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. \"Will you write to me?\" she said.\n\n\"Maybe. Maybe I will.\" He wandered toward the door. \"We don't dock until tomorrow. I'll come back,\" he said, knowing he wouldn't. She directed a long, gentle look toward him. \"So long,\" he said, and pulled the door closed.\n\nCharley was alone on deck. Questions of destiny occupied his mind, overlaid by memories and apprehensions. The loneliness of the vast sea came close enough to touch him threateningly.\nCHAPTER 10\n\nFor all his seeming indolence, Sus Ainsa was seldom far out of touch with news of importance. In the San Pedro hotel which headquartered them, and which would be the officers' last indoor quarters for some time to come, he came into Crabb's view at the suite doorway and knocked on the open door politely.\n\nCrabb looked up and waved him forward, all the while considering his handsome, loose-jointed brother-in-law. He was perceptive enough to say, \"You've found something out.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Sus said. \"There are some interesting dispatches from Ures and Hermosillo.\"\n\n\"Go on,\" Crabb said.\n\n\"There is also a very pretty young lady in the suite below,\" Sus said with a grin, and Crabb resigned himself to waiting the younger man out. Sus was always a man to lead up to things in his own good time. Now, in aggravating detail, he gave a description of the _se\u00f1orita_ who resided downstairs, and told of her circumstances. Beneath such trivialities Sus concealed a loyal heart and a considerable store of hardy courage. As a dandy, he left one suspicious; as a warrior, he made one impatient; as a lover, Crabb suspected Sus had added a good deal to his own legend that was not deserved. Nonetheless Crabb found himself comfortable in the young man's pleasant company, and was apt to confide in him things that he might not reveal to his own officers.\n\nIn time Sus let the subject of the downstairs lady drop, and said, \"The news from Ures is that Pesquiera's man Aguilar is now seated in the governor's chair. For all practical purposes the revolt is successfully complete. The dispatch from Hermo-sillo states that Manuel Gandara has retreated to Mexico City, where he isbound to get no help at all. Jes\u00fas Gandara is up in the Sierra Madres with the Indians. His guerrillas have been destroyed by Pesquiera and Gabilondo. If the reports are not moreexaggerated than usual, I think we must assume Pes quiera's coup is realized completely. He has no significant opposition any more.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Crabb said, and was reluctant to show his alarm. He stroked his brown beard and looked round the room with habitual vagueness in his eyes; he always gave the appearance of a man who had constant trouble keeping his mind on the subject at hand. This impression was only partly true. At the moment he was considering, with his quick politically trained mind, the varied and far-reaching implications of the news Sus had delivered. It was true he had anticipated Pesquiera's victory, but whathe had not expected was that it would occur so quickly. There was danger in this, the matter of time.\n\nFinally he returned his attention to Sus. The lean, graceful figure was clothed in the black finery of a _don_. \"I think we'll wait until tomorrow night,\" Crabb said. \"Then, when we're camped in the field, it will be time enough to advise the officers of this piece of news.\"\n\n\"Some of them may already know of it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. But it will do no harm to wait until we are away from here. Once we're on the march, I'll have more confidence in my ability to control their feelings. There are too many distractions and temptations in a town like this one. I want no one backing out at this stage.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" Sus said, and grinned. \"I am to take it, then, that I am free for the evening?\"\n\n\"Go on,\" Crabb said gruffly, waggling a hand. \"Pay your respects to the young lady.\"\n\n\"My thanks for your kind understanding,\" Sus said, with the flash of a smile. He turned and went out, spurs dragging the floor.\n\nWhen the door closed, Crabb clasped his hands behind him and paced the floor, brooding downward. Events were not as bright as he would have them. Presently he sat down at the writing desk and composed a letter to his wife in San Francisco.\n\n\" _My dear Filomena_ ,\" he began, and stroked his nose with the feather of the pen. Dipping it into the inkwell, he wrote in his precise small hand an account of the voyage just past, a report of the storm at sea, and a number of paragraphs of hopeful anticipation in which he assured her of his coming victory and of all that it would mean to the fortunes of her family. He mentioned Sus's good health andconveyed his regards; out of habit he signed the letter, \" _Y'r ob't svt, Henry_.\" For a moment he sat pen in hand while an image came to him of the sweet composed smile that would curve her lips when the servant dropped the letter onlier desk. She would walk across the parlor, a trim small figure of dark hair and eyes and a wistful smile that he had always liked. She would seat herself properly near the window and open the letter without hurry, and read with steady interest.... So Pesquiera had won already. It was a hard piece of news. But he could not turn back. He had too many commitments. He had made a contract with the men under him; he had an obligation, to them, to his family, to himself.\n\nHe sealed the letter and went downstairs to post it. In the lobby were a few knots of men, his various officers, and he stopped on his way back to the stair to have a word with Dr. Oxley. \"That man who was shot,\" Crabb said, \"what about him?\"\n\n\"A severe wound,\" Oxley said. \"He'll have to travel by wagon if he comes at all.\"\n\n\"We'll keep him,\" Crabb said. \"I have made a contract with that man to deliver him to a homesite. Besides, we may have need of every pair of arms and every rifle.\"\n\n\"He's not much of a specimen. I think he's a jailbird.\"\n\n\"Have a bed made for him in one of the wagons,\" Crabb said, and turned away. He heard Oxley's \"Very well,\" nodded to the others and climbed the steps. As he neared the top he found himself cursing his own shortness of breath. Years were telling in the dwindling vitality of his energies; he was, in fact, only thirty-five, but youth seemed a long way behind. He climbed the second flight and paused for breath, and went down the corridor to his room. Inside he poured a precisely measured ounce of whisky, downed it straight, and went to the window to look outward with brooding eyes. He was a man of varied moods and this evening a severe melancholia began to depress him. He wished Sus had stayed with him tonight; a few hours of the younger man's idle banter and insolent grin might have changed the sour taste on his tongue. When he looked forward into the coming weeks his feeling was bleak; he lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and took another drink while he began to pour himself earnestly back in time to a far and different past.\n\nHis thirty-five years had brought him a long way from Nashville. Now, through the open slit at the base of the window, he could hear the coarse cries of sailors on the waterfront, the rattle of wagons traveling the streets, the loud talk of a drunk. He got up to fill his glass, and found on the table a copy of Zimmerman's latest dispatch to the New York _Times_. He read it with a strange concentration.\n\n\" _It is reported that a plan exists to divide California, annex the Gadsden Purchase, and create a new Slave State. The idea is simply absurd_.\"\n\nCrabb smiled briefly. Not so long ago, the plan had not been so absurd. But like all careful politicians he had canvassed his friends in Sacramento. He remembered one colleague's words exactly: \"If you want to make a new Slave State, Henry, don't try to make it out of existing territories. You haven't got the support.\" He allowed himself to relax with one shoulder against the window frame, looking upon the street. Above a distant building flapped a banner of the Know-Nothing party. For a time it had been Crabb's party. He had never particularly believed in the tenets of that organization\u2014hatred in blanket form of all immigrants, notably the Irish, the German, the Catholics. It was difficult to maintain such an attitude in view of his wife's allegiance to the Church; it was even more difficult because the Know-Nothing platform straddled the slavery issue. But in California the power of the party had been strong and in it he had seen a chance to achieve a Senate seat in Washington. Unfortunately, in California senators were elected from the state congress\u2014and he had a good many enemies there. His bid had been defeated. It had cut him loose, set him adrift. He regretted none of it, but from his presently detached position he was free to recognizethe good fortune that had made his wife purposefully ignorant of politics. She had never shown any interest in his allegiances; her mind, shrewd in its way, recognized that he had merely seized an expedient means. She had never reproached him. Because of that, he felt both relief and a portion of guilt. He was happy to have it all behind him.\n\nHis glass was empty. He put it away and lay down. His eye tracked the course of a jagged crack in the ceiling. Tomorrow the journey would begin. He felt troubled by the news from Mexico; he knew Pesquiera, and thus he knew that Pesquiera was as much a political man as he himself was. His eyelids drew slowly together; he yawned.\n\nA listless breath of air held a weary carpet of yellow dust hovering just above the ground. The early morning was cool. Men stood around shuffling their feet. Behind them a mile distant was the silhouette of the town, the wharves, the boats; and the green swell of the ocean. Above the meadow grew gnarled cypresses. Charley stood alone in the midst of the disorganized crowd of men, drawn off in small knots of quiet conversation. He considered a group of little white cloud balls that rolled softly across the sky, and remembered standing on the gangplank watching the buggy go away at a rapid clip with Zimmerman and the deep-eyed girl, neither of them looking back. People came into your life and went out of it.\n\nDown at the foot of the meadow, Crabb and McDowell and the other officers were holding a heads-together conference, the low-east sun shooting their shadows long and thin along the earth, and eighty or ninety men waited around in the cool dusty morning. Charley turned and drifted away from the murmuring crowd, going up into the hillside of flat-topped cypress ghosts, wind-blown into eerie shapes, and found presently that the forest was a cathedral, drilled through by dark, long-sounding corridors. Here he stood with his head thrown back, trembling a little against the dry cold. Underfoot the ground was a strange mixture of ocean-white sand and brush growth. He noticed the weight of the revolver, the dig of the rifle across his shoulder, the heaviness of the carpetbag and the hang of the coat; there was the jingle of coins in his pocket when his fingers touched them. From his belt hung the pouch full of round leaden bullets and a bag of black gunpowder with a little tin of percussion caps. He put down the carpetbag and took a tentative aim across the rifle's sights at a red cardinal that squatted at the base of a treenot far away. The cardinal blinked at him, pecked at the ground once or twice and, when Charley's foot moved, flapped away. Charley balanced the long-barreled rifle across his hand and wished it weighed less.\n\nHe put it over his shoulder and picked up the carpetbag, and pulled the hat low over his eyes as he had seen Norval Douglas do it. The hat was an unfamiliar tightness about his scalp, but Douglas had told him it would be needed on the desert. It was a wagon-hat, flat of crown and wide of brim, dun-colored like the dust that hovered below the woods.\n\nWhen he looked back through the trees, down the way he had come, he could see far at the foot of the meadow the conference breaking up, the officers walking forward and General Crabb going toward a mound of earth. Regretfully, Charley turned with his equipment and went back into the open to join his company.\n\nMen milled and gossiped. He saw Chuck Parker sitting in a camp chair, his injured leg bandaged, and Samuel Kimmel, who had shot him, watching over him like a hovering nurse. Parker was ignoring Kimmel; he was deep in heated conversation with Bill Randolph. Charley mingled into the crowd.\n\nHe saw David McDowell, who was the captain of his company, come up across the dry grass and signal to Norval Douglas and Will Allen. The two went away from the crowd and for a while there was a quiet conversation among these three men. Will Allen came from Coyote Flat, and was the company's lieutenant, a slight but muscular man with a drooping brown mustache that gave his whole expression a dour cast. Captain McDowell had a vivid red beard that chopped up and down when he talked. Norval Douglas did a good deal of listening, very little talking. Charley wondered what they were discussing.\n\nA hand gripped his shoulder from behind, startling him. He frowned because he never liked to be touched. What he saw when he turned was Bill Randolph's sweat-caked stubbled face, and it made him go still inside and guard his expression with a tough screen. The big bartender grinned an unclean sort of grin, as if they were old friends among strangers, and said, \"What you suppose they're jawing about, Charley?\"\n\n\"How would I know?\"\n\n\"I thought you were pretty friendly with Norval Douglas.\"\n\n\"What if I am? He doesn't tell me everything.\"\n\n\"Just thought I'd ask,\" Bill said mildly. He seemed in an amiable mood; he let Charley's hard tones ride off him. Chuck Parker's voice lifted to a bellow, hailing him, and he drifted off. Idlers milled around. Charley had a glimpse of Jim Woods and of Carl Chapin, the indrawn youth he had met at the ship's rail. Chapin was standing by himself, his Adam's apple like a second chin, looking waspish and bad-tempered. Charley felt the uneasiness of waiting begin to build. Men moved around aimlessly, restlessly, striking up conversations and letting them drop incomplete, looking half-apprehensively at Captain McDowell and his little council, and presently almost in a mass shifting their attention to the solitary jut-bearded figure of General Crabb, who had climbed the little mound of earth and now stood with his hands behind him and his head down. Someone spoke nearby and Charley let himself eavesdrop out of idleness. \"I reckon Crabb wants to take over Sonora and get himself appointed the first senator from Sonora.\"\n\n\"You're crazy,\" was the reply. \"You think ninety men can take over the whole state of Sonora?\"\n\n\"We've got more coming. Talk is, General Cosby's in San Francisco organizing a party of a thousand men. They're supposed to sail down the Mex coast to Port Lobos and cut across Sonora to meet us at Altar. That way we'llhave the Mexicans between two jaws\u2014we'll make hash out of them.\"\n\n\"Not with no hundred men, we won't. I don't believe that, not a bit.\"\n\n\"Just the same, I reckon it's true.\"\n\n\"Well, it don't make no never-mind to me anyway. Long as I get what I been promised. You ever been down in Mexico?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I was there in 'Fifty-two. Gold and silver lying around to be picked up. Never seen nothing like it.\"\n\n\"How come you didn't stay?\"\n\n\"I was lucky I got out with my skin. Prospected a couple months in the Madres, and got run out by a bunch of Mexes. They don't cotton much to gringos down there.\"\n\n\"Then how come you're going back now?\"\n\n\"I expect there's enough of us to be safe. Besides, these repeater pistols ought to scare them off.\"\n\nThe two men moved away beyond earshot, and Charley spent a time considering what he had heard. None of it was particularly new, but it crystallized something in his mind and made him begin to wonder actively just what he was doing here. Somehow he had drifted into this thing and let it carry him along with it, never quite knowing very much about it at all. Everything was vague, tenuous\u2014strange promises of land and mineral deposits; he knew little of farming and nothing of mining. What had it to offer him? Was there a past or a future? There was no past he could return to; there was nothing certain about the future. Maybe death on the Devil's Road. He had heard of that, well enough: a desert of sand and cactus, lined with the white bones of animals and men.\n\nAround him the crowd milled like an ant colony, staying close to one another in a packed bunch as if to protect itself against something evil. Questions, unvoiced, traveled across the short spaces between men and made them all wary. _Spooked_ , Charley thought, and looked at Norval Douglas, out on the meadow a little way distant with the captain and lieutenant. Douglas was the one firm rock amid all this confusion\u2014a man who never displayed uncertainty. What surprised Charley when he thought about it was how little, after all, he knew about Douglas. But Douglas owned a calm of features and a bleak but positive self-assurance in his yellow eyes, and these things seemed like buoys in a tossing sea that was without a place to anchor.\n\nThe council broke up and Douglas came toward the crowd with Will Allen, while Captain McDowell set off across the grass toward the earth-hump where General Crabb stood in his thoughtful pose. Something about that picture of Crabb in the near distance, alone on a tiny hilltop, reminded Charley of an illustration of George Washington he had seen somewhere. Crabb wore no hat and the breeze lifted his hair, moving it lightly. His eyes were dark and brooding. Captain McDowell approached him, red beard chopping when he talked, and Crabb listened with courteous interest, afterward making a brief answer; thereupon McDowell made a smart about-face and came back toward the company.\n\nMcDowell planted his feet and called the company to attention. There being no real military discipline in the group, the effect of the command was mainly to muffle conversations and turn curious eyes forward. McDowell stroked his red beard and eyed the company skeptically\u2014it was rumored he was a West Point man\u2014and spoke in avoice calculated to draw attention: \"Let's have a little quiet, gentlemen.\"\n\nWhen the foot-shuffling and coughing and story-concluding was done, McDowell turned his back to the company and stood facing Crabb, hands behind his back and feet spread. Down the line, Captains Holliday and McKinney likewise silenced their companies and swung away to stand at ease watching the general. Charley observed the hip-slanted posture of Captain Bob Holliday of Company B, and found himself wondering whether perhaps Holliday wasn't easier to get along with than McDowell, who stood with a certain spine-stiffness that indicated arrogance.\n\nThese were the flats of El Monte, and supplies stood stacked beyond Crabb's outline. The horse remuda was down there staked out, and Crabb's five Conestoga wagons waited, hitched each to sixteen mules. The general drew himself up and faced the command; and spoke in a bell-clear voice:\n\n\"Gentlemen, this is truly an auspicious occasion. We stand today on the threshold of a great experiment. The continued prosperity of America may well depend on your strength, your steadfastness, your courage.\"\n\nSomeone within Charley's hearing muttered petulantly, \"Get done with the politics, General, and let's get to riding.\"\n\nCrabb launched into his speech, a thunder of energy and rhetoric punctuated by wide sweeping gestures and occasional beard-tugging. It was the same kind of talk Charley had heard before\u2014a call to loyalty and duty, a warning that laxity could breed danger, a promise of rich lands and lodes for the colonists. Behind Charley, at intervals, the petulant kibitzer would mutter a comment. \"What the hell is he talkin' about?\"\n\n\"Shut up, Shorty,\" said another voice. \"He's making sense.\"\n\n\"Yeah? Sounds like chicken-clucking to me, that's what I think. Chicken-clucking.\"\n\n\"Shut up, Shorty.\"\n\nCrabb waved his arms, promising riches beyond a man's imagining. Manifest destiny, Crabb talked of\u2014the destiny of an entire continent to become one nation. \"Are we to allow our land to stagnate in a slack eddy of time while just tothe south of us a vast and wealthy ground lies fallow? Gentlemen, no!\" And more, and more. Charley planted his feet and folded his arms and stood through it without being touched by it; it was merely one of those countless things he put back in his mind for storage, and now and then would draw out to regard briefly before returning it to its pigeonhole. \"In Mexico today,\" Crabb said, \"there is a man of peace\u2014a man of democracy\u2014a man who speaks no treachery against the United States. That man is our friend. His name is Ignacio Pesquiera.\"\n\n\"And,\" the muttering Shorty grumbled, \"he happens to be your wife's cousin. Don't try foolin' us, Crabb.\"\n\nThe muttered comment barely reached Charley. Crabb had paused momentarily; now he drew up his chest and stood with his blocky figure very solid and very self-assured; he tugged his brown beard with his fingers and said, \"No one is bound to us. No one need stay. You are free to go home if you wish. The road on which we embark today is a road of hardship and danger. I will blame no man who wishes to leave us. But if you must, quit us today; for the road back will become more difficult as we march farther from this port. Gentlemen?\"\n\n\"Long as I get paid,\" Shorty muttered, \"I stick.\"\n\nA murmur of apprehensive talk ran around the gathering; but no one moved, and in a moment Crabb said, \"Very well. Captains, organize your companies. Mount your men. Be prepared to march in one hour. That's all\u2014and the best of luck to every man.\"\n\nCrabb stepped off the hump of land and walked slowly away across the yellow grass. A cloud was crossing the sun. Its sharp-rimmed shadow swept across the meadow, overtaking Crabb and covering him. His choppy-striding figure passed the piled supplies and disappeared behind a wagon. Charley shifted the weight of the rifle on his shoulder and saw Captain McDowell open his mouth to utter a command.\nCHAPTER 11\n\nThe man who came walking unhurriedly up the sharp tilt of the sidewalk was small and trim, and dressed in a conservative gray business suit which he had selected with some care. It was a quiet street; below nearer the harbor teemed the San Francisco traffic. The bantam pedestrian was plainly of Mexican heritage\u2014his dark skin, angled eyes, and straight glistening black hair revealed that much. He skipped the point of a cane lightly along the walk. His glance was speculative. The wind had driven fog off the bay and now the morning sun rippled off its surface beyond the docks; from this hillside he could see across the tops of the city buildings to the islands and the vague blue rim of land across the bay. He turned up a weatherbeaten stair that took him onto a wooden porch, and lifted the brass knocker.\n\nAn Oriental opened the door and gave him a polite look. He said, \"This is General Cosby's residence?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I wish to see him. My name is Cassio.\"\n\nHe stepped inside. The houseboy said, \"One moment please,\" and went back through the house. Cassio removed his hat and looked idly around the dim hall until the houseboy came back, took his hat and cane, and led him into a furnished study. Behind him he heard the door close quietly.\n\nThe desk was near the bay window. The man behind the desk was round-cheeked and wore a pince-nez. A paunch was beginning to swell at his midriff. He said gruffly, \"Se\u00f1or Cassio?\"\n\n\"Yes. I have come recently from Hermosillo.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Cosby said. Cassio felt dry amusement at the care with which Cosby concealed his curiosity. Cassio said, \"Three days ago I passed through San Pedro. General Crabb's party had left there a week before, about one hundred men strong. He was outfitted with five prairie schooners. They carried food for sixty days. By now I would suspect they have passed Warner's Ranch.\"\n\nCosby was frowning. \"Why do you bring this news to me?\"\n\n\"I thought you might find it interesting,\" Cassio murmured, and smiled gently.\n\n\"All right,\" Cosby said. \"What do you want?\"\n\nCassio could see that the general was not a man to whom amenities meant much. It would be best, he decided, to come immediately to the point. He said, \"I have it on good authority that you have been commissioned to raise an army of a thousand men and take them by sea to reinforce Crabb in Mexico.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" Cosby said.\n\n\"I was not aware it was a secret.\"\n\n\"Go on,\" Cosby said.\n\nCassio had to smile. He said, \"Let us say that I represent a group of financial men in Sonora. These men know of your\u2014or rather, of Se\u00f1or Crabb's agreement with Ignacio Pesquiera. But they are troubled. They recall quite well that when _Norteamericanos_ were allowed to settle colonies in Texas, the results were not good for Mexico.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Cosby said. His voice was a scrape. \"You've come up here to warn me\u2014to threaten us, is that it? I can advise you right now it won't work. Bigger men than you have tried to frighten me.\"\n\nCassio waved a hand deprecatingly. \"Nothing of the kind, I assure you. No one wishes to endanger you.\"\n\n\"In that case, you have conveyed the feelings of your friends. I acknowledge your concern. Now, if you don't mind, I have things\u2014\"\n\n\"One moment,\" the Mexican said smoothly. \"Perhaps you do not appreciate the extent to which my associates are troubled. You see, for us it would not be a good thing at all if anything were to happen to the present regime in Sonora.\"\n\n\"Gandara's or Pesquiera's?\"\n\nCassio chuckled. \"Se\u00f1or Gandara is quite finished, I assure you. My associates are quite satisfied with things as they are.\"\n\nCosby's eyes narrowed. \"You can assure them, se\u00f1or, that General Crabb and I wish no harm to Pesquiera.\"\n\n\"Can I?\" Cassio murmured, and immediately smiled amiably. \"No matter. My point is this: it might cause much apprehension among our people if a large force of armed men were to arrive on our shores under your command. So agitated, the people would perhaps begin to question the good intent of our present government. Now, Sonora has just suffered a lengthy and tiring revolution. No one wishes to see the tables turn at this late hour. You see my point?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Cosby said. \"What do you expect me to do about it?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Cassio breathed. \"Exactly. Many of us would be quite happy if your thousand-man force failed to materialize.\"\n\nCosby merely looked at him expressionlessly. Cassio allowed himself to smile. \"Crabb himself is within the limits of his agreement with Pesquiera. He advances with a small party\u2014less than a hundred men. His ostensible purpose is to seek out a site for a future colony. Very well, let him; the damage is now done. But if a large armed force were to come around by sea and meet him\u2014that, then, would be beyond the limits of his agreement. It would be, I can promise you, tantamount to an act of war. Do I make myself understood, se\u2031or?\" There was, abruptly, a bite in Cassio's smooth tone.\n\n\"I thought,\" Cosby rumbled imperturbably, \"that you didn't intend to threaten me. What do you call this?\"\n\n\"Advice,\" Cassio replied. His smile returned. \"My friends in Hermosillo are quite wealthy. I have been empowered to make a rather substantial offer on their behalf\u2014in the nature of a payment for insurance, one might say.\"\n\nThis was the moment he had prepared for; he stood now waiting tautly, his smile hovering, watching Cosby and trying to make out Cosby's reaction.\n\nIf Cosby was startled, he made no show of it. One eyebrow cocked up, and he removed his pince-nez to blow dust from the lenses. When he put them on his nose again, he said, \"I see. What makes you suspect I might be inclined to accept that kind of an offer?\"\n\n\"The size of the offer,\" Cassio answered promptly, softly.\n\n\"Which is?\"\n\n\"Fifty thousand dollars,\" Cassio said mildly, and added, \"In gold.\"\n\nCosby steepled his fingers. His lips pursed. Cassio found himself disliking the man intensely. A wagon clattered by on the cobblestones outside, wooden brakes scraping against the downhill slope. Presently Cosby looked up and said one word.\n\n\"Done.\"\n\nShortly thereafter, with a pleasant smile illuminating his face, Cassio left the house and strolled down toward Market Street. He was comfortable with the knowledge that General Cosby was no longer a threat to the peace.\n\nLate afternoon. Sun in his face, turning it crimson, Captain David McDowell stood in the triangular opening of the tent, holding its flap back and waiting for the others to come up. McDowell's red beard was turned to livid flame by the low sun. He saw Sus Ainsa, dressed in black and looking very lean and supple, cruising the company street. Shortly a man came along, Freeman McKinney, captain of C Company, a tall man with a bald head that rose to a kind of point. McKinney, never a talkative soul, nodded briefly to McDowell and stooped to go into the tent. McDowell stayed where he was and saw the bottom rim of the sun flatten against the horizon. A long lance of bright pastel vermilion shot forward from the setting orb.\n\nPresently Norval Douglas came along, dressed in mountain buckskins. McDowell took note of the yellow glitter of Douglas's eyes; it had never failed to unnerve him. Douglas also leaned and entered the tent, and when the sun had dropped another degree and the sheet of pastel hues had spread across the entire western quarter of the sky, with reds and yellows the color of brilliant limestone cliffs, then Bob Holliday came swinging down the path with long-legged, easy strides. Holliday was handsome and clean-shaven; he had an amiable smile and presented an elongated, raw-boned figure in the strange rose light of the dying day.\n\nHolliday was in command of B Company, and McDowell's lips pinched together tautly when Holliday grinned lazily, said, \"Evenin', Dave,\" and curled inside the tent like a long uncoiling snake. McDowell bit his lip and stooped to go inside, letting the flap fall behind him so that it became suddenly dark within the tent, and almost simultaneously, Freeman McKinney said, \"Hey, somebody got a candle?\" and Norval Douglas lighted the wick of a whale-oil lantern. That little incident impressed on McDowell the different ways of thinking of Douglas and McKinney.\n\n\"Pin the flap back, Dave,\" Douglas said in his quiet drawl. \"Let's have some light in here.\"\n\nMcDowell turned around and folded the tent-flap back. On the rim of the earth, the sun was an overturned bowl angry in hue. Long shadows zigzagged along the ground. McDowell sat down Indian fashion, cross-legged, in the triangle of the opening, and swept his companions' faces.\n\n\"What's the trouble, Dave?\" Freeman McKinney said.\n\n\"I thought we ought to have a little talk between us,\" McDowell said, \"before we get too far out in the desert.\"\n\n\"What about?\"\n\n\"The general,\" McDowell said, referring to Crabb.\n\nThere was a brief interval of silence, with red sundown light painting their faces before him, and Bob Holliday said in his casual tone, \"What's wrong with the general?\"\n\n\"I'm worried,\" McDowell answered. \"About him and about us.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"For one thing, I don't like the way he waited until we were twenty miles out in the desert before he told us what he'd found out from Mexico. He may not have said so, but it seems clear to me that the turn of things down there throws a whole new light on what we're doing.\"\n\n\"What you mean is,\" Holliday suggested, \"you don't trust Pesquiera.\"\n\n\"No,\" McDowell agreed. \"I don't. He doesn't need us any more. His troops don't have anybody to fight\u2014they're free to fight off the Apaches themselves. What does he need us for?\"\n\n\"I'm sure,\" said Freeman McKinney, \"that the general's thought about that. He knows what he's doing.\"\n\n\"Does he?\" McDowell said quickly. \"He's a politician, not a soldier.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" Holliday said.\n\n\"When the time comes for military decisions,\" McDowell said, \"do we leave them up to Crabb?\"\n\n\"You always were a worrier,\" Holliday observed, and stretched his lanky legs along the tent's grass floor. He was leaning back, propped up on his elbows, and his eyes were sleepy.\n\n\"Another thing,\" McDowell added. \"We've got to decide whether we're going to act like a bunch of colonists or a regiment of soldiers. You can't have it both ways. But the general keeps seesawing\u2014from one minute to the next I can't tell if he aims to immigrate or invade. I think we ought to take it up to him. Frankly, I want a clear answer before we go any farther.\"\n\nHolliday's half-lidded eyes rose. \"The trouble with you West Point boys is you never know what to do until somebody gives you an order. Hell, Dave, why not go over to his tent and ask him?\"\n\nMcDowell ignored the man's amiable insult; he answered, \"Because we haven't agreed among ourselves yet.\"\n\n\"What's there to agree on?\"\n\nMcDowell looked around. The dying sun cast softer shadows. In the corner, Norval Douglas sat silent, a man to whom stillness was important. McKinney's bald head gleamed and he frowned at his hands. Holliday looked mild and unconcerned. \"Are we game for anything at all?\" McDowell asked.\n\nMcKinney's frown turned toward him. \"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"I mean,\" McDowell said in precisely pronounced words, \"are we all willing to stand behind the general no matter what happens?\"\n\n\"I still don't follow you,\" McKinney said.\n\n\"Crabb's playing politics,\" McDowell said. \"He's trying to play Pesquiera off against Gandara. But it won't work, because Gandara doesn't have a thimbleful of supporters left. Crabb was hoping that they'd weaken each other enough so that we could step in against nothing more than token opposition. But it didn't work out that way. Damn it, when we started this thing I knew what was up. I expected all along that we'd find ourselves trying to boost Henry Crabb into the Governor's Palace at Ures, or maybe the U. S. Senate from Sonora. It was a risky thing then, but it's a fool's play now. Pesquiera isn't half so weak as we thought he'd be. But Crabb goes right on ahead as if nothing had happened. I don't think he's fooling anybody\u2014and I want to know if all of you are willing to take the risks.\"\n\n\"Are you?\" McKinney countered.\n\nHolliday's drawl broke in between them. \"If you gents haven't got the guts for it, what are you doing here in the first place?\"\n\n\"I just want to know how far out I'm going to have to stick my neck\u2014and how many men I can count on to stand with me,\" McDowell said. \"Does that make me a coward?\"\n\nIt was Norval Douglas who answered. \"You're the only one who can answer that, Dave. But it seems to me that if you signed up to follow Crabb, then you're duty-bound to follow him wherever he heads.\"\n\n\"Is that the way you feel about it, Norval?\"\n\n\"It is. I took a job. I intend to fulfill my end of the contract.\"\n\nMcDowell turned his troubled gaze out from the tent, across the brush-studded desert toward the westward peaks across which they had come. Ahead, southeast, lay the salt flats, the sand dunes that led finally to the banks of the Rio Colorado. The sun was down and indigo shadows spread thick along the ground. He thought of these men, his fellow officers. McKinney was an ex-member of the California legislature, one of Crabb's fellow politicians. He would probably follow Crabb's lead\u2014or would he? Bob Holliday was a man of varied backgrounds; he had been a scout with Cooke's Mormon Battalion and he had fought with Fr\u00e9mont in California, but essentially he did not own the military mind. Of the other officers, not gathered here, he thought he might be able to count on Will Allen, his lieutenant and friend, and perhaps on Quarles and Porter, who were Holliday's lieutenants. Of the others he was not so sure. John Henry, from Mariposa, was McKinney's lieutenant and also an ex-member of the state legislature, as was the surgeon, Dr. Oxley. Colonel W. H. McCoun, whom Crabb saw fit to call his Commissary General, was likewise a former legislator, and had at one time stood tall in the state house. He would no doubt follow Crabb to the shores of the Styx if he had to. Other officers\u2014Tozer and Bob Wood and Nat Wood and Ted Johns\u2014were present at Crabb's suffrage. McDowell thus felt in the minority. He said as much: \"The general's got himself surrounded by friends. But I don't want to be the sacrifice of a fool's mission.\"\n\n\"What do you want to do about it?\" countered Holliday.\n\n\"I wish I knew.\"\n\n\"Why don't you sleep on it?\" McKinney said. That was McKinney's answer to a good many things.\n\n\"I've slept with it for weeks,\" McDowell told him. \"I'm at the point where I don't like it. I think we ought to find out exactly what the general has in mind before we go any farther.\"\n\n\"As I said before,\" Holliday drawled, \"why don't you ask him?\"\n\nMcDowell made no reply. The trouble was, he was afraid of what Crabb's answer might be\u2014and he did not wish to be the only man in the party in disagreement with the general. He did not want events to make him out a coward; it was that simple. If at this point he refused to follow Crabb further, it would be akin to mutiny. If, thereafter, Crabb proved successful, McDowell would be behind, a castaway; and if Crabb proved unsuccessful, McDowell would be a scapegoat. He feared both consequences. He pounded his fist into an open palm. \"Isn't anybody else interested in what we're headed for?\"\n\n\"Maybe you should have thought all that out before you came along, Dave,\" said McKinney. \"The rest of us did.\"\n\nMcDowell rolled out of the tent opening and stood up. In the east, over the desert flats, the moon was coming up with a soft ring of dust around it. He felt the pressure of time. Along the tent streets fires glittered, red gleams like eyes winking at him. Soft laughter swept across the evening and somewhere down the row a harmonica made sad melodies. Norval Douglas came out of the tent and put his light eyes on him; Douglas said, \"Whatever you decide to do, Dave, don't let public opinion push you around.\" Then he swung away, a buckskinned figure moving through the night with a cougar's grace. The moonlit plain glimmered silver. When Bob Holliday appeared at the front of the tent, he merely showed a bleak expression, saying nothing, disappearing toward his own tent. Finally McKinney came out, moonlight glancing off the dome of his head, and stood with a musing pucker to his lips while he packed his pipe. \"Dave.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It's likely to be a rough road. I suggest you make up your mind.\"\n\n\"I see,\" McDowell said slowly. \"You don't trust me.\"\n\nMcKinney, for a politician, was blunt enough. \"That's right,\" he said without malice. \"If we ride into trouble, I want to know that the man who commands the left flank isn't occupied with trying to balance his own skin against the company's. Maybe you ought to figure out where your loyalties lie before we hit the Mexican line. I think you ought to do that, Dave.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" he said drily.\n\nMcKinney made no reply. He put a match to the bowl of his pipe and when it was going to his satisfaction, he walked away.\nCHAPTER 12\n\nAt the gray break of dawn the column moved out. Past Warner's Ranch and Sackel's Well now, they pushed southeastward toward Jeager's Ferry at the Yuma Crossing. Horsemen rode in a column of twos; out ahead of the regiment rode a single buckskin-clad man: Norval Douglas, trail scout. In the midst of the column plodded five Studebaker wagons, each drawn by eight spans of mules, with the driver riding the off wheel animal. On these laden wagons rode bedrolls, clothes, horse feed, tools, kegs of gunpowder, surgeon's supplies, water barrels, spare wheels and axles, flour barrels and salt pork and food to provision a hundred men for two months less the fortnight they had already traveled, and planks\u2014many stout planks lashed beneath the wagons. When Charley had asked the meaning of these planks he had learned that they were to be used as rails for the wagons when they reached the forty-mile stretch of the soft sand-dune country. January\u2014and the desert was smoky with ninety-degree heat. It was unseasonable and dismal; not a cloud appeared anywhere on the topaz expanse of the sky. Catclaw, greasewood, prickly pear, jointed cholla, barrel cacti\u2014these seemed the only vegetation studding the gentle undulations of the land. \"The land that God forgot,\" muttered Jim Woods, riding at Charley's stirrup. Dust, kicked up by the column of horses ahead, filled his nostrils and caked his skin and formed a salty grit against his eyelids and tongue. There was the muffled tramp of hoofs, the creak of saddle leather, now and then a soft jingle of bit chains, the scrape of big wagon wheels and the listless flap of canvas.\n\nThe earth, tan-gray and rocky, became steadily softer underfoot as they moved into the rising sun morning after morning. Dull heat smothered the plain from midmorning to sundown. Mica particles in the ground flashed painfully against the eye. Seldom was there any wind; now and then came a sluggish current of air to scorch dry skin. Powerful sunlight burned their hands and faces and shoulders. Once, some distance back, Charley caught sight of Bill Randolph and Chuck Parker. Parker rode the tailgate of a wagon; Randolph, alongside, rode with his shirt off, his massive brown torso gleaming with brown sweat.\n\nOn the nineteenth they hit the dunes.\n\nWagon wheels sank almost hub-deep in the soft sand. The column halted. From the head of the line came commands, relayed back man to man. Charley found himself detailed with a small group of men near the second wagon. He stepped down and handed the reins of his horse to old John Edmonson, who scraped the back of his hand across a sweating weathered brow and attempted a smile. Leaving his rifle in the saddle boot, Charley plodded forward through the sand while it sucked at his boots.\n\nLieutenant Will Allen came up, a trim little man who twisted the points of his brown droopy mustache and said, \"All right. Untie those planks under the wagon bed.\"\n\nHe had to crawl under the wagon to undo some of the knots. There was not much space between the wagon's floor and the tops of the sand dunes; the wagon had sunk practically to its axles. He had to dig his way in. His fingers were clumsy with the knots. He heard Lieutenant Allen's impatient voice: \"Hurry it up, can't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" he muttered, and presently the ropes came loose. The planks almost dropped on his upturned face. He scrambled out from under the wagon and pulled the planks out, seeing another youth\u2014Carl Chapin\u2014doing the other side of the wagon.\n\nChapin ignored him. Charley went in again, and again, and after four trips had a stack of planks lying behind the wagon\u2014four planks, each almost eighteen feet long. Chapin had the same kind of stack on his side. Charley stood breathing heavily, awaiting a command, curiously regarding the pale thin youth with the underslung chin. Chapin seemed more surly than ever; he glared with open malice at the lieutenant, who was motioning to Bill Randolph and three or four other men. \"You'll find shovels in the wagon,\" the lieutenant said. \"Dig it out.\"\n\nBill lifted his hat and scratched his head. \"That's a powerful lot of diggin', Lieutenant.\"\n\n\"Do what you're told,\" Allen said, and swung away to inspect the next wagon down the line. His horse's hoofs kicked up high splashes of loose white sand; it plodded away as though half swimming.\n\nCharley went back to his horse and stood by the stirrup while Bill and his crew poked their shovels into the sand beneath the wagon. In ten minutes Bill was swearing in a steady monotone. With every shovel of sand that was taken away, half a shovelful sifted back into the hole. \"Jesus,\" Bill said. \"This will take a week.\"\n\nOld John Edmonson, holding Charley's horse, smiled gently and murmured, \"The devil's work is never done.\" His talk was not loud enough to reach Bill's ears, and Charley felt thankful for that. He said, \"Have you got any idea how far the dunes go?\"\n\n\"About forty miles, I understand,\" said Edmonson.\n\nBy midafternoon the wagons were shoveled almost clear. Lieutenant Allen came back up the line, ordering the lounging men back into their saddles. When he came by, he stopped and spoke to Charley: \"You and these five men will lay rails for this wagon.\" It was all he said; he reined his horse around and went forward toward the point.\n\nThe sun slapped hard against the earth, against the men. A tired stream of insects, they wound slowly forward across the sea swells and troughs of the white glittering dunes. With each ten feet the wagon traveled, a board had to be taken up behind it and carried around to the front, where a man had to avoid somehow the plodding hoofs of the mules and still get the plank laid butt against the previous plank, which would by then be disappearing under the wheel. Thus continuous rails were kept under the wheels; and the expert muleskinners did their best to keep the heavy Conestogas on the tracks. On the uphill slopes men had to dismount and put shoulders to the wagon tailboards; on the downhill slopes the muleskinners leaned forward braced against the ropes of the brake handles, and men rode behind with ropes dallied from saddlehorns to the wagon. Horses waded almost to the stirrups in the liquid sand. The westering sun stretched shadows and poured rivulets of sweat down the flesh of straining, red-eyed men.\n\nOften a plank would tilt, slide, slip away; the wagon would sag; men would ride up, dab ropes over the wheel hub and haul the wheel up out of the dry quagmire until the plank could be righted. Once, resetting a plank in this way, Charley almost lost his hand under a wheel that came plunging away from a rope that slipped loose.\n\nNight made its approach. In five hours the train had advanced less than half a mile. The mules were unhitched, fed and watered, and hobbled with the horse stock. Campfires blossomed in the evening and over the desert, indigo and violet twilight swept in a last retreating defense. Charley ate his meal and sank back on his blanket exhausted, his muscles trembling. Norval Douglas crouched cross-legged frowning into the fire, his eyes gleaming frostily. Jim Woods came up from the wagon and packed his tin utensils away, scrubbed clean with sand, and joined the small group around the fire. Around them the tent streets were quiet and lonely. The wheezing harmonica that they had become accustomed to was silent tonight. Charley stretched his shoulders. The air turned crisp and the fire's warmth made him immediately sleepy. A newcomer drifted up and stood a diffident six paces from the fire, looking forward inquiringly, and when Charley turned to look at him he recognized old John Edmonson. When he had taken time to study Edmonson, Norval Douglas said, \"Rest a while.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Edmonson said, and crouched down, turning his open palms toward the blaze. Downslope beyond the tents, guards walked slow circles around the picketed horses, now and then stopping close to one another to converse. A final ribbon of cobalt dusk faded away westward. John Edmonson stared into the fire. His cheeks were stubbled with gray and his face seemed even more deeply lined than Charley remembered it. Edmonson nodded courteously to Jim Woods and a moment later pulled out a briar pipe and packed it with care, leaning forward then to poke a twig into the fire. He put it to his pipe and puffed deeply until a red-gray spiral of smoke began to rise from the bowl, whereupon he tossed the twig on the fire and sat back, pulling contentedly on the smoke. Red-bearded Captain McDowell came up looking troubled and dipped his head to them all, and made a space for himself, saying, \"This will be the last fire we'll be able to build for some time. There's no fuel on the dunes. We ought to roll in soon\u2014we'll be on the move at sunrise. We'll be lucky to make a mile a day.\" He stared across the fire. \"Norval, you'll ride out at midnight. I want you to find the shortest route across the dunes.\"\n\n\"Due east,\" Douglas said promptly. \"Thirty-eight miles. After that, Yuma Crossing and the Sonora desert. We're starting a little late in the season, I'm afraid\u2014the desert will be damned hot by the time we reach it.\"\n\n\"We'll do all right,\" McDowell said in a way that at first sounded confident; afterward Charley began to feel the man was trying to reassure himself. \"Those of us who are strong enough, anyway,\" McDowell added. \"And the others have no business coming.\" His glance drifted across the face of old Edmonson; there was no visible break in his expression. He stood up and said, \"Good night, gentlemen,\" and went away into the night.\n\n\"Checking on the troops,\" Jim Woods observed. \"McDowell takes things too damned seriously, I think.\"\n\n\"That's his job,\" Norval Douglas murmured. Charley sat up to let his belly bake against the fire. He looked at Edmonson, who sat drawing on his pipe, apparently at peace with himself and ignoring the comment that McDowell seemed to have directed at him; Edmonson appeared to be a good deal older than he should have been for this kind of an expedition. He said now, \"I gather that our friend the captain believes that things must be done in a hurry.\"\n\n\"That's Crabb's belief,\" Woods said. \"It rubs off on the officers.\"\n\n\"Many a mistake has been made because of haste,\" Edmonson said, squinting through his pipe smoke.\n\nDouglas was leaning back with one elbow on the ground, looking off across the swells of the dunes. \"I expect you'll find the world's work gets done by men in a hurry, Mr. Edmonson,\" he said.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Edmonson said. He did not appear to agree.\n\nDouglas said, \"I recall that we were too slow on the march in Lower California, in 'Fifty-four. That was why we were defeated.\"\n\n\"You were with the William Walker party?\"\n\n\"I was.\"\n\n\"You must be a filibuster at heart, then,\" Edmonson said.\n\nDouglas poked a twig into the corner of his mouth and let it tilt there; it waggled when he talked. \"Adventure is where you find it.\"\n\n\"What happened to that expedition?\"\n\n\"We were licked,\" Douglas said. His tone indicated no particular regret. \"We landed down there and Walker proclaimed it an independent republic\u2014all of Baja and Sonora. But that's a bitter country and he hadn't brought enough food or water. You can't live off the land when the land supports nothing but twigs and spines and rocks. The Mexicans starved us out and we had to retreat overland to San Diego. It was a rough hike.\"\n\n\"Walker's done better since then,\" Jim Woods said.\n\n\"That he has,\" Edmonson agreed. \"I understand he's got control of the Nicaraguan government.\"\n\nDouglas's shoulder moved. \"He won't last. The natives are against him.\"\n\n\"They'll be against us too, more'n likely,\" Woods said.\n\n\"We can handle it, if it comes to that.\"\n\n\"What makes you so sure?\" Edmonson said.\n\n\"Just a feeling,\" Douglas told him. \"I think we all need sleep. Let's turn in.\"\n\nPlanks broke or overturned. Wagon wheels slipped off and sank hub-deep in sand. In the depths of the dunes, each such occurrence meant the wagon must be unloaded, for there was no shoveling this loose liquid sand. The wheels had to be reset on the plank rails and the wagon reloaded. Days passed with a dreadful monotony. Toward the end of January the weather turned cool and cloudy, but there was no rain. Nighttime temperatures plunged down into the thirties; men shivered by night and sweated by day. McDowell's estimate had been correct; there were days when they did not make a full mile. By the tenth day of February, with the Colorado still twenty miles distant, water for the animals was reduced to one ration every forty-eight hours. Mules began to drag in their traces and had to be shot. The column moved day and night now; one shift of men would sleep, then catch up and relieve the other half of the party. The shifting, treacherous sandhills made of it a trek through hell. Food spoilage made scurvy a danger. On the seventeenth, they found that too many planks had splintered; they could not move all the wagons at the same time. With ten miles yet to go, the pace slowed again; each wagon in turn had to wait on its rails while the spare planks were carried to other wagons. Norval Douglas led a party ahead to the military post above Jeager's Ferry, but there was little food to be spared at that outpost. It was all Douglas and his detail could do to return with four water barrels filled at the river, two sacks of flour and a side of bacon. Men ate sourdough biscuits and gnawed on strips of leather-hard beef jerky. On the twenty-seventh of February they rolled out of the desert and turned upstream to Jeager's Ferry. At the Army post they recruited a few mules. Crabb sent a dispatch to San Francisco, and directed Charles Tozer and Robert Wood to ride with all possible speed to Tucson, where they were to recruit additional men to reinforce the column when it reached Mexico. George Alonzo Johnson's clumsy steamboat was moored above the ferry, which had a bloody history of its own; Captain Johnson grinned and waved a hand as the column marched upriver. The river was rising with the first of spring's melted snow from the mountains up the Colorado and Gila and Salt. Arizona lay ahead of them, sunlit and brassy.\n\nSo many mules had been shot and eaten during the clumsy crossing of the dunes that several horses had to be hitched into the teams, setting a squad of men afoot. Nonetheless, a construction mechanic at Fort Yuma who asked the men what they intended to feed their horses along the desert _Jornada_ got the cheerful reply that they would ride them into the shops and feed them calico. There was a reckless spirit of abandon alive in the party, stirred up perhaps by the cool crossing of the river and the path they now traveled up the Gila River, easy going after what lay behind them. The word \"filibuster\" came out in the open and men laughed with it; those who made rational justification for the march were pushed away and the spirit of impending conquest fixed its grip on them, so that soon with few exceptions, and for the first time, the many individuals bonded together with a single purpose. Captain McDowell's face lost its look of troubled uncertainty and he joined himself to the other officers with positive enthusiasm; the anticipation of manifest victory was all about.\n\nIn a wagon bed rode Chuck Parker, his fever risen and broken, his leg healing slowly. One-eyed Sam Kimmel, who had shot him, walked alongside and periodically inquired after Parker's needs.\n\nSeveral men came down with various ailments. It was to be expected. Sus Ainsa found himself put in charge of this group, and watched over it with good cheer.\n\nForty-five miles east of Yuma they made a halt to rest and organize for the desert crossing ahead. The party now numbered eighty-nine; a few men had left at Yuma and two or three recruits had joined the expedition. Here, in a shaded oasis of cottonwoods and grass, tents were pitched and horses and mules grazed while men cut their names in cottonwood bark and christened the spot Filibuster Camp. Charley walked about the camp, bathed in the river, washed out his clothes and borrowed a pair of scissors from old John Edmonson to trim his lengthening hair. In his reflection on the river surface he could see that his shoulders had toughened up, his arms had thickened, his face had burned brown and his hair was sun-bleached; he looked a decade older than his years.\n\nFor a time he was full of the camp's spreading optimism. They had conquered the clutching sands of the dune country; they were like invincible men. But there were signs to make him wary. Bill Randolph, always willing to fight, lunged around camp in an impatient temper. The strange youth, Carl Chapin, was now and then to be seen threading the trees by himself, eyes vacant; at meals he was silent, moody, sulky\u2014he seemed irritated whenever anyone invaded his privacy enough to ask him a simple question. Old John Edmonson had developed a wheeze and a cough that kept him bent over a good deal of the time. His eyes seemed too bright. Captain McDowell came around often, inspecting equipment; he rationed out food and supplies with a hoarder's miserliness. Even Norval Douglas, who usually seemed willing enough to let the world go its own way as long as it let him go his, seemed strangely anxious at times, and once jumped irritably at an innocent question Charley asked of him. And Crabb\u2014Crabb plowed through the camp with his hands behind him and his head down, like a man restlessly pacing a floor, trying to fight out the solution to some weighty problem. There were many of them, however, who showed no indications of that same strain\u2014Jim Woods for one; Sus Ainsa and the easygoing Captain Bob Holliday, Lieutenant Will Allen, Dr. Oxley.\n\nNorval Douglas spent two days alone out in the hills somewhere. When he returned it was understood, though he talked little of it, that he had encountered a party of Indians and fought a small skirmish with them. He brought back the carcass of a fat mule deer and that night the company, feasting, was the envy of Companies B and C. The following day, inspired by the yellow-eyed scout's example, a group of men representing all three companies went on a hunting foray, and returned at sundown with a good haul of bobcat, javelina boars, jackrabbit and even a whitetail buck. For Charley, who accompanied that party, it was his first opportunity to make use of the arms with which he had been equipped. His first shot, at a bounding jack-rabbit, had gone well wide of its mark. He had settled down on the spot and spent an hour in target practice to accustom himself to the gun. Presently young Carl Chapin had come along, and a strange thing happened.\n\nChapin reined in and dismounted beside Charley's pony. Looking sickly, his eyes bulging a little from his face, Chapin loosened his cinches and came forward with his own rifle. The first thing he said was, \"Don't do it that way\u2014don't close one eye when you shoot. You lose perspective. Keep both eyes open. Here\u2014look.\" Chapin put his hand on Charley's rifle and moved it so that the stock rode higher against his shoulder.\n\n\"Try it that way. Sight on the target. Balance your target on top of the front sight. Now cock the hammer.\"\n\nA pair of metal clicks, loud in the desert, struck Charley's ears. Chapin said, \"Take in a deep breath and let half of it out, then hold your breath. When you're steady on the target, give the trigger a steady squeeze. That way you won't know when she'll go off\u2014and so you won't flinch. Try it.\"\n\nCharley followed his advice. A corner of his mind stood back and was puzzled by Chapin's sudden sociability. He squinted down the barrel, remembered to open his left eye, drew in his breath, and began to squeeze. Chapin said, \"Focus your eye on the front sight, not the target.\" Charley aimed at a protruding spiny segment of a cholla cactus, and squeezed.\n\nWhen the rifle went off, it startled him; he jumped, and was sure his jump must have thrown the bullet far off course. But the cholla segment tilted and fell softly to the ground. \"I'll be damned,\" Charley said.\n\n\"Just remember to squeeze them off,\" Chapin said. \"You won't have any trouble.\" He put his own rifle to shoulder and almost without seeming to take aim, he fired. Another piece of cholla split away from the plant and fell. Chapin tilted his powderhorn against the rifle muzzle, patched a lead ball with quick competence, and rammed the charge back to the breech with one swift, firm stroke of the ramrod. Charley had not seen him dig for it, but there was a percussion cap in his palm, which he now pinched over the nipple under the big cupped hammer. Then the pale youth slung the rifle over his back. Charley had hardly found time to unsling his own ramrod.\n\nDown the gully, the cutbank had caved in and there was a brief talus slide. On that loose slope of rock and earth appeared the mule-eared shape of a tall jackrabbit. Charley stood still and watched it. The rabbit, startled, froze. But when Charley lifted his ramrod to seat the bullet, the rabbit wheeled and darted away. He saw it bounce past a cluster of creosote bushes and then it was gone. He cursed and capped the rifle. When he looked at Chapin, the pale youth was looking blankly at the spot where the rabbit had disappeared. He had not touched his gun. Charley said, \"Damn it, why didn't you shoot him?\"\n\nChapin shrugged his narrow shoulders, coughed twice and spat a pink stream toward the ground, and turned back toward his horse.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" Charley said.\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Charley began, and felt awkward. \"Thanks for the help.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Chapin said, and went on to his horse. He gathered the reins and climbed into the saddle. Charley watched him ride away toward the hills.\n\nReflecting on the enigma of this pale and brittle-boned youth, he used up a dozen more slugs in practice, at the end of which he found the cholla pretty well chopped down. Then he hunted around the gully wall for the spent bullets, found six or seven of them, and pocketed the smashed pieces of lead. Later he would melt them down and recast them.\n\nWhen he returned to camp in the evening with a rabbit dead across his saddle, he saw Chapin riding in from the north. Chapin's saddle was empty of game.\n\nIn the morning, well fed and impatient, the expedition broke camp and formed its line, and wound forward like a brown curling snake on a brown earth. It was about forty miles southward to Tinajas Altas, which were a string of nine eroded potholes on the eastern face of a massive rock mountain. Storm waters were stored in these pits, and here the party filled to capacity all its barrels, canteens, and water bags. A horse had fallen ill and been shot, and Norval Douglas had sewn watertight bags out of the hide.\n\nEach man was reduced to one blanket and twenty pounds of baggage. Much of the baggage had been left in trust at the sutler's in Fort Yuma. Here on the desert mules began to give out, and one by one the wagons had to be abandoned. More animals were conscripted to carry packs, so that a good portion of the enlisted personnel were set afoot. Scurvy entered the camp surreptitiously; men fell sick and had to support one another. Spirits dropped rapidly. Infection attacked Chuck Parker's leg; Dr. Oxley was sure he would not lose the limb, but Parker was unable to walk, even on crutches. The next water was still ten miles distant when the final wagon cast a tire; there was no spare left, and for six days Parker and two men stayed behind on the desert, while each day the two men marched forward to get water for the animals and brought it back. Finally Crabb gave the order that stragglers must catch up. Charley was there when they removed the fevered Parker from his wagon bed and suspended him in a stretcher between two horses. They caught up with the main party at Cabesa Priete, midway along the Camino del Diablo, under a blistering March sun. The valleys they traveled\u2014the Lechuguilla, the Tulito\u2014were barren and dry, bounded by sawtooth mountains cut from rock without vegetation on their slopes. Sparse growths of catclaw and ironwood mingled with the scattered cacti. There was no shade anywhere. At night the temperatures dropped by fifty degrees and men shook in their single blankets. Not even coyotes called across this forgotten district. Every night when camp was pitched it was Charley's duty to sweep the area for snakes; in this heat they came out of hibernation early. Finding a snake, he would pinion its head under the curved steel butt strap of his rifle. Then he would cut the head and rattles off with his knife. Jim Woods amassed a considerable collection of diamondback and sidewinder rattles from Charley's gatherings.\nCHAPTER 13\n\nDave McDowell scratched his red beard and frowned into the fire. It was a smoky, stinking little fire, fed with green creosote and paloverde twigs. He took a sparing sip from his canteen, rolled the tepid stale water around in his mouth, swallowed it down a raw throat, and popped a smooth pebble into his mouth, working it around with his tongue to keep the saliva going. He wished he had his tent. All the tents had been abandoned long ago. The scatter of blanket-rolled bodies was hardly military.\n\nA tall shadow loomed in the night. That was Freeman McKinney, trailed by Bob Holliday. The lieutenants stood back in a knot of idle talk. \"The general wants a powwow, Dave,\" McKinney said.\n\n\"All right.\" He stood up and followed them to the big fire, where Crabb sat on his blanket thoughtfully stroking the length of his brown beard. The general's deep eyes lifted slowly to acknowledge them. \"Pull up some chairs, gentlemen,\" he said drily.\n\nMcDowell sat down between Holliday and McKinney. McKinney's bald head glistened in the firelight. Back in the semishadow stood the constantly vigilant shape of Norval Douglas. \"I'm sorry I can't offer you a drink of wine,\" Crabb said. \"Gentlemen, we are faced with a difficult problem.\"\n\nMcDowell looked around. The whole contingent of officers was present. He nodded to Oxley and Will Allen, Quarles and Porter, Colonel McCoun, Johns and Nat Wood. He saw Bob Holliday stretch his long legs toward the fire. Across the blaze, Sus Ainsa looked on with sleepy eyes. \"Sick men are becoming a burden to us,\" Crabb said. \"I don't mean that in an unkind way. I'm sure Mr. Douglas will confirm what I have to say.\" He looked up as if seeking agreement. In the shadows, Norval Douglas's eyes glittered in frosty reflection of the fire.\n\n\"The fact is, there is not enough water between here and the town of Sonoyta to sustain us if we continue at our present rate,\" Crabb said. \"I daresay we're hardly making twenty miles a day. This is a grueling country to get across\u2014we knew that when we set out. But frankly I didn't count on having to abandon the wagons and having to lose so many mules and horses along the way. We have reached a point where we will again have to ration water, as we did on the sand dunes west of the Colorado. Gentlemen, I am sure you'll all agree that we do not propose to leave our bones to bleach on this desert along with the others that we see every mile of the way.\n\n\"There are almost a score of men,\" he continued, \"who are unfit for forced marches. I refer to every condition from blistered feet to scurvy, and of course the wounded man\u2014what was his name?\"\n\n\"Parker,\" said McDowell.\n\n\"Yes. Parker. The man needs rest and good food more than anything else, I understand. He can't get either of them here, but by the same token I doubt he's in fit condition to ram forward full-tilt across the desert to Sonoyta. Am I correct, Doctor?\"\n\nOxley nodded. \"Indubitably,\" he muttered. \"Indubitably, Henry.\" Oxley was a strange little man but a good surgeon.\n\nCrabb nodded slowly and an interval passed during which no one spoke. Perhaps Crabb had sunk into one of his odd reveries. But in a moment he lifted his head and seemed to shake himself. He said, \"Ah, yes.\"\n\nMcCoun, who, being a colonel, was at least titularly the second in command, spoke in his customary brusque manner: \"What do you propose we do about it?\"\n\n\"Divide the party,\" Crabb replied. \"I suggest we leave an officer behind in charge of the sick. That group can stay behind, rest a bit, and come on to Sonoyta at their own pace. The rest of us will leave as much water and food behind as we dare, and make a forced march to Sonoyta. There we can wait for the others to come up. It's my feeling, gentlemen, that it's that or imperil the entire command.\"\n\n\"It's a risk,\" Oxley said immediately. \"We have no guarantee that the sick men will benefit by a few days' rest. They may be less able to travel later than they are now.\"\n\n\"That's true enough,\" Crabb said, \"but it endangers the rest of us if we all must accommodate ourselves to the pace of the slowest man. I'm convinced we stand a better chance if we divide the regiment.\"\n\n\"What about Indians?\" McDowell said. \"Wouldn't we be laying the sick men open to an attack?\"\n\nNorval Douglas drawled from the shadows; he seemed reluctant to come closer to the fire. \"Papagos,\" he said. \"They won't bother anyone. It's too far west for Apaches.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you seem so positive,\" McDowell told him. Douglas made no answer. His expression was unreadable; only his eyes were clearly visible. McDowell, who had come around to a certain way of thinking in the past few weeks and had for a time reasoned himself into being satisfied with the state of affairs as they were, now felt the returning pressure of uncertain fears.\n\n\"I think,\" Crabb said, \"that it would be wise to call for a volunteer. I'm reluctant to order any officer to take on the job of handling these sick men.\"\n\nThat was the trouble, McDowell thought. Crabb was altogether too reluctant. What would happen if, as commander, he came against a situation that called for a bitter decision? McDowell worried about Crabb's indecisiveness; Crabb lacked the fine line of decision that marked a militarily trained man. To have a hedging man in command might well lead to disaster.\n\n\"Will anyone offer himself?\" Crabb asked.\n\n\"I'll stay with them,\" McKinney said. \"I could use a day or two of rest myself.\"\n\n\"Very well. In the morning you'll take Dr. Oxley with you, and make an inspection. The doctor will select those men who are unfit for arduous travel. I anticipate you'll probably find yourself with about eighteen or twenty men on your hands. You'll instruct Lieutenant Henry to take over your company in your absence.\"\n\n\"Good enough,\" McKinney said, and stood up. \"Is that all?\"\n\n\"Yes. Good luck to you. We'll expect you to arrive in Sonoyta a few days behind us.\"\n\n\"I'll come along as quickly as I can,\" McKinney said.\n\nThe meeting broke up shortly thereafter, and on his way back to his own fire McDowell found that he had the company of Bob Holliday at his shoulder. Holliday swung along with lanky, loping strides, rolling his shoulders as he walked. His hands were rammed inside his waistband and he said, \"I see what you mean about the general. He should have given a flat order. You don't call for volunteers in country like this.\"\n\nThey reached the fire. McDowell shared his pipe tobacco with Holliday. The crescent moon appeared, tipped up on one point. Holliday said, \"When we came across Arizona ten years ago, we skirted this desert to the north.\"\n\n\"The Mormon Battalion?\"\n\n\"Yes. It doesn't seem so long ago. Cooke was a good officer. I wonder what happened to him?\"\n\n\"He wrote a manual on cavalry tactics. Quite good.\"\n\n\"I'd like to see it sometime,\" Holliday said. \"It's hard to believe that stagecoaches go over that trail every day. Ten years ago we broke the trail for the first time. This is a hell of a country. Sometimes I ask myself what the devil I'm doing here.\"\n\n\"One day follows the next,\" McDowell said. \"Eventually you die.\" He was in a dark mood. \"I wonder what made McKinney volunteer?\"\n\n\"He's an old friend of the general's. I expect he thinks he's doing the general a favor.\"\n\n\"He's going to have a rough time of it. The desert's getting hotter every day.\"\n\nIn this part of Mexico, the sun of late March was an angry god. Jos\u00e9 Maria Giron, colonel of the governor's troops, felt its malicious arrows against the back of his sweat-damp shirt as he ascended the stone steps of the Governor's Palace of Ures. A sentry came to attention, presenting his rifle, but for the moment Giron ignored the man and let him stand at stiff attention. Giron turned and put his eye on the town. Sun had baked the weathered 'dobes into the land's common yellow gray. Beyond the square he saw the dome of the church. Absently he crossed himself\u2014forehead, shoulder and shoulder, chest. He tipped back his duck-billed hat and hooked a thumb inside the belt strap that glistened as a black ribbon diagonally across his body from shoulder to waist. The air was very hot; a residue of dust hung suspended. He turned, met the utterly blank stare of the sentry, and saluted, whereupon the sentry resumed his legs-apart position at parade rest. Giron went into the shade of the entranceway. A soldier took his hat and sword and, wiping his hands together, Giron turned up the stairs.\n\nAt the head of the staircase another sentry barred his way. This man, following orders, demanded and received Giron's papers, though he was an old soldier and Giron had known him for years. Giron took his papers back and spoke a few pleasantries with the soldier, inquiring after his family; and went down the hall.\n\nBeside a wooden statue of Santa Maria stood Ignacio Pes-quiera. Aguilar, who was governor at least in name, sat behind the massive oaken desk. Clustered by the far window of the office were Gabilondo and Lorenzo Rodriguez and Jes\u00fas Ojeda, the latter two men being officers under Giron's command. Giron nodded to them all and stood waiting with inbred patience, reflecting on the pleasant company of the melon-breasted girl he had been forced to leave behind in his quarters when Pesquiera's message had come. He put a hand on his paunch and pushed it inward. _I am becoming a soft man of middle age_ , he thought regretfully. He regarded the stocky, powerful figure of Hilario Gabilondo, who had little fat on him. Gabilondo's arrogant stare met him and made him look away. The taste of beer hung on Giron's tongue.\n\nPesquiera moved away from the statue and crossed to the governor's desk. He stooped and spoke soft courteous words in Aguilar's ear, whereupon the governor got up and with a certain stiffness left the room. It was unfortunate, Giron thought; no man should have to act as a pawn. Aguilar was no more than Pesquiera's tool. Soon he would be dispensed with. It was the way of politics; that much Giron understood. He knew little of the meaning of politics, and disliked what he had seen of it. He was a soldier.\n\n\"Se\u00f1ores,\" Pesquiera. said, and stood by a corner of the desk until the four men had turned toward him. \"I have a mission for you.\"\n\nGiron looked upon his commander expectantly. By the window, Gabilondo cocked his hip against the sash and sat tilted that way, arms folded across his chest. There was something cold in the man's eyes that made a chill run down Giron's back. He was not ordinarily a particularly perceptive man, but it would have been hard to miss the chilly contempt with which Gabilondo looked on everything indiscriminately. Just now that half-lidded gaze was directed at Pesquiera, who seemed to take no notice of it. His gray beard was carefully combed; he wore the clean dark clothes of a _don_. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Presently he said:\n\n\"My friends, we now have power firmly in our grasp. But to keep it, we must remain popular. Gandara lost office for one reason only. It was not because he was ruthless. It was not because he was greedy. It was, simply, because he lost favor with the people. You understand?\"\n\nIt was a rhetorical question; no one answered him. He went on:\n\n\"The people are happy with us. We must keep them so.\"\n\nGiron said, \"What must we do?\"\n\n\"Stop the filibusters,\" Pesquiera said promptly. He was looking at no one in particular.\n\nGiron stiffened. When he looked at Gabilondo, all he could see was the hint of a smile. Pesquiera said in a conversational voice, \"My agents have been among the people. We have made it known to the people that Manuel Gandara was responsible for inviting the _Norteamericano_ colonists. The people understandably do not wish another Texas.\"\n\nPesquiera looked very complacent. Giron wondered about it. He wondered how such a good man could utter such things with so straight a face. He wondered if this was what would happen with others of Pesquiera's promises. But it was politics, and since he did not understand politics, he said nothing.\n\nPesquiera went on:\n\n\"Gandara is to blame, then. The people do not want us to allow the filibusters to invade our state. Se\u00f1or Crabb must be stopped.\"\n\nGiron felt the stale taste of beer; he swallowed; he said in a small voice, \"How?\"\n\n\"I have dispatched a messenger with a letter to Sonoyta, which is on the border of the _Estados Unidos_. In the letter I have warned Se\u00f1or Crabb that we have no further need of his services, and that he would be well advised to turn back.\"\n\nGiron felt himself relaxing. \"That is good,\" he said, and nodded his head wisely.\n\n\"But,\" Pesquiera continued mildly \"I do not believe that the letter will have much influence on our friend the good Se\u00f1or Crabb. If you will pardon my saying it, I believe the man is a foolhardy adventurer. Of course, he may take heed. He may turn back. In that case we have nothing to worry about, no? But we must of course be prepared for whatever comes.\"\n\nHe went around the desk and sat down in Aguilar's chair, the governor's seat. The desk top was a massive brown polished surface against which he placed both hands. He sat back with a proprietary air. Giron, standing twenty feet away, folded his hands behind him and tucked his chin down. Pesquiera said: \"We must be prepared. All we know for certain is that Crabb left San Francisco in January with approximately one hundred men. How many men he has now, we do not know. He may perhaps have recruited many more soldiers during his journey. He will be made bold because he undoubtedly still expects his comrade, General Cosby, to reinforce him at the Concepcion with one thousand men. I am sure Se\u00f1or Crabb does not know that General Cosby died five weeks ago in a runaway wagon. An auspicious accident. At any rate, we do not know where Crabb is now, or how many followers he has. We must assume the worst. Ojeda.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" said Jes\u00fas Ojeda, stepping forward from the window, standing smartly at attention. Ojeda wore his sword, Giron noticed. Pesquiera said, \"Ojeda, you will take twenty men and march to Sonoyta. If Crabb is still there, you will conceal yourselves until he moves. If he turns north and goes away, you will leave him alone. If not\u2014if he advances across the border and seems to be marching this way, you will fortify your men at Sonoyta to prevent his return.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" Ojeda said. Giron met his eyes. Ojeda was a good soldier. Giron liked him.\n\n\"If Crabb has already passed Sonoyta,\" Pesquiera went on, \"you will find out which way he went, and act accordingly. If you find him headed toward the Concepcion, you will dispatch a messenger on a fast horse to the town of Caborca, with a message for Colonel Rodriguez, so that he may prepare himself. _Comprende?_ \"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" Ojeda said a third time.\n\n\"Very well. Rodriguez?\"\n\nLorenzo Rodriguez came forward to stand at Ojeda's shoulder. Giron did not like him so well. He thought that Rodriguez was a fool when it came to military work; he did not see with a soldier's eyes.\n\n\"Rodriguez,\" said Pesquiera, \"you will leave immediately with a squad of well-armed soldiers, and you will take with you sufficient wagonloads of arms and ammunition to equip the local militia at the town of Caborca. You will prepare the town for a possible invasion, and you will fortify yourself so that, if Crabb's column arrives, you will be able to contain him until reinforcements arrive. Is that understood?\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" Rodriguez said.\n\n\" _Bien_. Now, as to you, Hilario.\"\n\nGabilondo did not step forward. He maintained his slouched seat in the windowsill. His bleak gaze wandered around the room like a restless horsefly and finally came to rest on his commander. Pesquiera said: \"You will take two hundred soldiers and a pack train with weapons and ammunition to arm as many additional volunteers as you are able to gather in the towns between here and the Concepcion. You will take sufficient time to recruit a large party and train them, at least rudimentarily. At the same time you will maintain a steady march toward the Concepcion, and you will throw scouts forward to find out if the Crabb filibusters have penetrated the valley. If they have, you will make contact with them and stop them. You will prepare yourself to engage them in battle if they choose not to surrender.\"\n\nGabilondo's smile was cool. Pesquiera said, \"Oh, and you, Giron\u2014you will accompany Hilario as his second-in-command. That is all. Good luck to you, amigos.\"\n\nOutside, on the steps of the palace, Giron thought of the woman who awaited him in his quarters, and the jug of beer yet half full, and he said, \"I suppose we will decamp in the morning, eh, General?\"\n\n\"We will decamp immediately,\" Gabilondo said flatly. \"Gather your equipment and meet me on the parade ground at the barracks. In half an hour, Colonel.\" Saying no more, Gabilondo went briskly down the steps pulling on his gloves.\n\nShrugging with regret, Giron squinted toward the afternoon sun and tramped slowly across the dusty square. There were times when one had to forego one's pleasures for the sake of duty.\nCHAPTER 14\n\nFrom the hilltop, Charley looked back across the barren eroded leagues and saw, bright in the morning sun, the little camp a mile away. One man stood on the flats\u2014Captain Freeman McKinney, waving his hat to them, a tiny shape threatened by the vast sweep of the dry flats. Charley kicked aside the whitened skull bone of a mule. The jaw clattered. He went on, tramping pebbles into the earth. In time they were over the far side of the hill and McKinney's little camp was no longer in view. McKinney had twenty men, sick or blistered; the main party was reduced to fewer than seventy. Charley trudged along in formation beside old John Edmonson. In front of them walked Carl Chapin, who did not talk at all, and one-eyed Sam Kimmel, who had regretfully left Chuck Parker behind. Kimmel appeared to hold himself responsible for the lurch of the ship that had made his gun go off and smash Parker's leg. Perhaps it was right that he should feel so; Charley didn't know. He did know that as far as his own feelings toward Chuck Parker were concerned, there was no regret in him and no particular sympathy for Parker. It was Parker, after all, who had killed the little miner for his poke.\n\nAt the head of the column the officers rode horseback. All the other men were now afoot; what horses and mules could be spared were burdened with packs, and the rest of the stock had been left with McKinney for transportation of the sick. Far out ahead of the column a solitary rider appeared occasionally on the horizon. That was Norval Douglas, scouting the trail and leaving markers as he went. A sluggish current of air scorched Charley's dry skin. He pulled his hat forward against the sun that burned his face. His feet, sore a month ago, had toughened up; his legs moved along with an easy rhythm, wasting no motions. On the nearby horizon swells was a spindle tracery of greasewood and yucca stalks. Particles of mica and pyrites in the ground flashed slivers of brilliance against his squinted eyes. Heat pulsed along the ground. Ahead, the violent pattern of the land buckled up in crooked shattered tangles of yellow and brown and gray.\n\nAcross the silent air, old Edmonson's voice seemed to jump at him: \"I had a talk with our friend Douglas last night. He's a sound man, but I believe he needs something to soften his hardness.\"\n\nCharley turned an indifferent glance on him. Just now he felt little respect for Edmonson; the past few weeks had given him the impression that Edmonson was always padding around like a dog waiting for scraps. But at times Charley listened with respect to the old carpenter's talk of kindness and unhurried satisfaction with life as it came. In moments like this one he found himself almost torn between the attitudes of Douglas and Edmonson; he seemed to lose his identity and become nothing but a slate on which impressions of other men were printed.\n\nEdmonson bent over his hollow chest and coughed without losing stride. \"That's a bad cough,\" Charley said.\n\n\"Just came back to me recently,\" Edmonson said, and shrugged. \"When I was young, each year there would be a doctor who told me I was dying. After a while you learn to ignore things like that. For a dying man I've lived a good span of years.\"\n\n\"Just the same, this would be a hell of a place to die.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the old man said, with a quizzical turn of his lips, \"perhaps you could suggest a good place to die?\"\n\n\"You know,\" Charley said by way of an answer, \"I don't think you really know what you've bought into. If you did, maybe you wouldn't be here now.\"\n\nEdmonson walked scuffing the ground with his bootheels. He said, \"Putting too much trust in too many people\u2014perhaps that's my great fault. But I've survived through it this far. With luck I'll last a little longer. I don't have much to lose, at any rate. But with you it's a different thing. I should think that of the two of us, you're the one who's putting the most in the balance.\"\n\n\"I can look out for myself,\" Charley said.\n\n\"That's fine,\" the old man answered, and Charley wondered if he imagined the touch of dryness on his tone. Hard bright heat lay across the desert. Edmonson gestured with a lunge of his arm. \"Just the same,\" he said, \"this is a hell of a thing to die for.\"\n\n\"The desert, you mean?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then what are you doing here?\" he said bluntly.\n\nEdmonson looked at him. An obscure smile came to his mouth. \"Well, I'll tell you something,\" he said. \"Essentially, nothing has much meaning to an old man. Everything can be canceled at any time. I just walk along and run my little shoestring life and mind my own business most of the time. I like the desert air\u2014even if it's hot I can breathe it. I'm all right, you see, as long as I keep my lungs dry.\" He paused. There was the sound of feet regularly crunching the earth. Back along the column somewhere a man was softly humming a tune. Edmonson seemed to be rummaging in his thoughts. He said, \"You strike me as a shrewd enough young fellow. What are you looking for?\"\n\n\"Looking for?\"\n\n\"You must be searching for something. Otherwise why are you here?\"\n\nCharley made no answer. In truth, he didn't have a ready answer. \"You're still walking around looking for a place to sit down,\" Edmonson said.\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"When you accumulate a little humility,\" the old man went on, as if Charley had said nothing, \"then perhaps you'll have found what you're looking for. But it will take time. Humility is not a virtue of youth.\"\n\n\"What have I got to be humble about?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Edmonson murmured. \"Youth is arrogance. From where you stand, a man is either a hammer or an anvil. To your eyes there's no third alternative. Therefore, naturally, you seek to become a hammer. Nobody wants to be hammered upon. But you'll be making a great mistake if you maintain that attitude very long.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"You become too hidebound. If you insist on being the hammer, it can only lead you in one direction. You'll become a strong man but a lonely one. Look at Norval Douglas.\"\n\n\"What's wrong with him?\"\n\n\"He's not a happy man.\"\n\n\"Show me a happy man,\" Charley said.\n\n\"I put myself on display,\" answered the old man.\n\nCharley could not agree. To reduce oneself to the point of accepting whatever happened\u2014that was not happiness; it was vegetation. Edmonson went on: \"When you learn to be content with yourself, you'll have arrived where you wanted to be. Until then, impatience will drive you relentlessly. Look at the way it drives Douglas. He's a strong man, smart. Probably he's never knuckled under in his life. But he's no longer young\u2014and he's still driving himself because he isn't satisfied.\"\n\n\"No,\" Charley said. \"You're wrong. He's satisfied. That's why he pushes himself. The only way to keep your self-respect is to make the most of yourself.\"\n\nEdmonson chuckled softly; the chuckle turned into a cough. \"You've been listening to Douglas too much. All he's really managed to do is find a shortcut from nowhere to nowhere. What will all his driving amount to when he dies?\"\n\n\"It won't matter then.\"\n\n\"Just so. Then why not be satisfied with things as they are?\"\n\n\"Because it matters now.\" Charley said nothing further. He did not, however, believe the old man. He did not see how it could be worthwhile to let the wind push him around until he died. What was important was the now\u2014otherwise the only thing that came after birth was death, and there was no point in living at all. He had learned that much: that the present was no longer a dismal uncertain gray; it was, in fact, the only sure thing he had.\n\nEdmonson, he felt, was an old man who was not so much embittered as unknowingly defeated. The old man had given up, and was now busy trying to convince himself that he had been right in giving up. But it would not suit Charley. The greatest failure of all would be failure for the want of trying. In this old man it seemed that fear had turned to a flame that had consumed his strength. But that was no good. Time was here to be used; it was here for him to make something of it. The words, passing through his mind, seemed to echo something he had heard Norval Douglas say. He could not place the time or memory.\n\nRich light streamed across the desert. On the hour the column halted to rest. Charley sat down on a flat smooth rock and sipped from his belt canteen. The rifle, slung across his shoulder, was a half-forgotten weight that had worn a callus along his flesh. He laid it aside and pushed his hat back, feeling the wind cut through the dampness of his hair. When he looked at John Edmonson, who was lying back on one elbow and regarding the desert without much interest, it became plain enough that the sharp savor of life had passed the old man by. Charley resolved not to let that happen to him. Probably long ago Edmonson had found himself struggling under the belief, encouraged by his doctors, that life was tragically brief and therefore essentially without value. He had lost his capacity to believe; he had flattened himself and somewhere he had obviously lost the knowledge that the day was a stretch of time that he could use as a tool to his accomplishment.\n\nThe earth glittered. A peak stood round and lofty, its slopes darkened by rock. The air was thin and at the same time like a fire's radiant heat, with an acid burn against the skin. Dust gritted on the roof of his mouth. When he turned his head, the shirt collar scraped his neck. At the head of the column, Colonel McCoun made a signal and the men climbed to their feet. Charley capped his canteen, hung the rifle across his shoulder, and stepped into line.\n\nA few trees; a patternless scatter of adobe buildings, made with great thick walls and tiny windows. A cupola-roofed well in the center of the square. One cactus wren perched with dusty weariness on the rim of the well. A heavy woman in a shapeless dress, black dusty hair knotted and stringy across her eyes, moving on springless feet with a wooden bucket toward the well; the bird flapped its wings and departed for a slim mesquite branch at the edge of the square. The woman reached the well and listlessly brought up the bucket on its rope, and balanced it on her head when she trudged back into the shade of her house. Across the square on the veranda of his office sat the _alcalde_ , whose name was Redondo, and who was also the _comisario_ of Sonoyta\u2014behind him his building served as general store, mayor's office, jail. Sonoyta was technically north of the border, and thus a part of the newly annexed Gadsden Purchase area of Arizona; but Redondo, who had lived here under Spanish and Mexican flags, was a man slow to heed change, and still owed his allegiance to Mexico\u2014in particular, to the governor of Sonora. Perhaps it was a trifle illegal; but no representative of the United States, or of the Territory of Arizona, had ever paid a call on him, and in the absence of orders to the contrary, Redondo considered himself a Mexican subject. He looked upon his town without delusions. No one cared very much, one way or another, what happened in Sonoyta. The surveyors had been haphazard, lazy men, and perhaps after all it was true that if a decent survey of the boundary had been made, Sonoyta might perhaps still remain a part of Sonora. But Sonora did not seem to care, and Arizona remained silent, and for all practical purposes Sonoyta town was a reasonably independent province by itself, and Redondo its baron. He was satisfied.\n\nHe was a potbellied man of middle years, with no particular distinction of features except for a scar along his cheek that he had earned at San Jacinto in the war against Texas. He wore it as a badge of honor. Not all men could claim to have fought under the great general, Santa Anna. Redondo had a habit of running his index fingernail along the ridge of the scar.\n\nHis wife, who had put on weight in the past few years, came from the store and spoke a few words to him and dipped a drink of water for herself out of the _olla_ , the clay jug that hung under the veranda roof suspended in a net of rope. Having satisfied her thirst, she replaced the long-handled dipper in the _olla_ and made her brown-skinned, heavy-legged way back inside the store. Redondo remained seated in his cane-bottom chair; it was too hot to busy himself. He thought without emotion that the summer would get a good deal hotter before it got cooler. Today was only the twenty-seventh of March. The thermometer hung above him and he had to twist his head to look at it; bunched folds of fat rippled along his neck. Ninety-six degrees in the shade. He poked a cheroot in his mouth and struck flame with a flint-and-steel mechanism, and thought that in another two months the midday temperature would be up to a hundred and fifteen. Sometimes it gave him cause to wonder why humanity sought out such inclement districts in which to build homes. Why had anyone ever come here? The nearest town of any consequence was Altar, in Sonora on the Concepcion, and that was almost two hundred kilometers distant. To the northeast, it was even farther to Tubac and Tucson. He made no sense of it. For himself, he would never have settled here, except that the government had made him _alcalde_ , and as the only storekeeper except for Dunbar within forty miles in any direction he was bound to make a profit.\n\nHis daughter Teresa appeared in the doorway and he made a frown at her, so that she shut the door to keep the heat out. She dipped a drink from the _olla_ and handed the cup to him. He muttered his thanks and drank, and handed the cup back. Teresa drank the rest of the cupful. \"It is very hot,\" she said.\n\n\"It will get worse.\"\n\n\"Of course.\" Teresa put the cup back into the _olla_. Redondo took pride in his daughter. Her back was straight, her waist was long and slim. Her eyes and hair glistened like a raven's wing. Her flesh was smooth and brown; her arms were firmly round. She was a very fine daughter. He hoped to see her marry a wealthy man. There was a _ranchero_ from San Perfecto who had been calling on her of late. He was not an old man yet\u2014he was only thirty-one\u2014and he owned a great many acres and many head of cattle. Unfortunately he was quite fat; but one could not ask for everything. The _ranchero_ was a good suitor. Even so, Redondo now and then wished idly that he could live in a larger town, so that his daughter would have more to choose from.\n\nShe had a small head, set aristocratically on a long graceful neck. When he considered his own bull-throat and meaty shoulders, he was amazed that she had proved so beautiful. He wore a gun at his hip, not so much because he was the only law officer within three days' ride, but rather to keep the young _caballeros_ aware that his daughter Teresa was not to be trifled with. She was but sixteen. There was plenty of time yet.\n\nShe was nibbling on a salt cracker; her hip was perched against one of the posts that supported the veranda roof. Since his was the only shaded porch in Sonoyta, Redondo was jealously proud of it. He squinted into the west and tried to decide whether it would rain. There had been no rain for three months. There were gray clouds on the western horizon, but on the other hand there was no particular wind; and in all his experience he had never known it to rain without raising a wind first.\n\nA horseman trotted into town from the northwest. That was young Luis, and since Luis was something of a young rake, Redondo told his daughter to go inside the store. She went, after casting an innocent but speculative look toward the slim rider. Luis rode up, his horse's hoofs boiling up little whorls of dust, and dismounted gracefully, leaving the reins trailing and coming up on the porch with a tinkle of spurs. Luis grinned amiably and touched his thin black mustache, and dipped a drink for himself out of the _olla_. \" _Muy seco_ ,\" he said\u2014very dry. After wiping his lips he said, \"There is a very large group of gringos approaching from that way.\" He waved a hand.\n\n\"How large?\"\n\n\"Many more than I could count on fingers and toes,\" said Luis. \"Most are on foot. A few ride horses. They have a number of pack animals, both horses and mules.\"\n\n\"They are armed?\"\n\nLuis gave him an impatient look. \"What kind of question is this? Only a fool empty in the head would travel in this country without arms. Of course they are armed.\"\n\nRedondo for the moment chose to ignore the young man's sass. \"Anything more?\"\n\n\"They will be here within two hours, I think.\"\n\n\"Good. Thank you, Luis.\"\n\nLuis grinned and stepped off the porch, and led his horse out into the square. His spurs dragged the dust. He pulled up a bucket of water at the well and gave his horse a drink, then loosened the cinch and led the horse out of the square toward his father's stable. Redondo watched him go. The party Luis had reported would no doubt be the _Norteamericano_ filibusters against whom Pesquiera's dispatch rider had warned him not a week past.\n\nHe sighed; his wide chest lifted and fell. In a moment he went inside the store and around behind the counter, where he brought out a double-barreled shotgun. He inspected its loads, gave wife and daughter a bleak look, and returned to the porch. When he sat down he put the shotgun across his lap.\n\nTime stretched at a ragged pace. Teresa came out for another drink of water, and he said to her, \"I have instructions for you, _ni\u00f1a_. There is a crowd of gringo pirates on the road coming here. They will arrive within an hour\u2014if you look closely you can see their dust beyond the bald mountain.\"\n\nShe looked. \"I see nothing, _Papa_.\"\n\n\"Just the same, the pirates are there. I do not wish you to be visible to them. One does not put temptation in the devil's path. I have decided what you must do.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, Papa?_ \"\n\n\"Go down to your Aunt Lita's house by the arroyo. Stay there with her until the gringos; have left the town.\"\n\n\"All right,\" she said.\n\n\"Take a gift for your aunt from the store. And take food with you. The gringos may stay here for an hour or a week\u2014I do not know. You are to avoid them at all times. Do not speak to any of them. Keep a knife with you. _Comprendes?_ \"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, Papa_.\"\n\n\"Go, then.\"\n\nShe turned into the store. On his cane-bottom chair, Redondo touched the hot metal of the shotgun and settled back to wait. The dust haze to the northwest was advancing slowly. The thermometer read ninety-seven degrees.\nCHAPTER 15\n\nIt was Sus Ainsa's feeling that matters were not as they should be. Normally he was easygoing enough, in most respects, to take adversity as it came. Today it had come in the form of a complacently delivered message uttered by the fat _alcalde_ of the town, Redondo. The message had been brief and to the point. It had taken Redondo approximately a minute and a half to speak it. It was now taking the rest of the afternoon to digest it.\n\nThe column was encamped in the scanty shade of a row of mesquites that bordered the rim of a dry eroded creek, an arroyo. Crabb was seated with his back against the bole of one such tree. It was so stunted that its branches barely left his face visible. Sus squatted on the dusty ground and, with the other officers, looked worried. The sun was made of brass; its great brilliance attempted to fry them all. Sus's shirt was soaked against his back and there were drops of oil sweat on his forehead. A lean man, he did not normally perspire much. His legs felt cramped and he stood up to stretch them. He looked out across the camp at men feeding horses, men playing cards, men oiling guns, men arranging equipment, men talking in quiet little knots of conversation.\n\nSus thought back upon the _alcalde_ , stuffed with self-importance, sitting in his cane-bottom chair on the porch and delivering his message with pompous tones. \"The government of Governor Aguilar has instructed me to inform Se\u00f1or H. A. Crabb and his party that the people of Mexico will tolerate no invasion. The administration of Governor Aguilar accepts no responsibility for treasonous or unlawful pacts entered into by any previous administration. The present administration refuses to honor any such pacts, and accordingly announces to all immigrants or attempted invaders that to enter upon Mexican sovereign soil is to risk property and even life. No covenants that lead to invasion will be honored. I speak with the authority of the Se\u00f1or Don Jos\u00e9 de Aguilar, Governor by God's Grace of the State of Sonora.\"\n\nThe _alcalde_ had gestured for emphasis with the black shotgun he held securely. Then Crabb had replied to him that the party would make camp outside town while considering the announcement. Redondo had nodded and smiled and told them to take all the time they desired. Crabb had been steaming when they reached the campsite, and Captain David McDowell had threatened to return to town and wring Redondo's fat neck.\n\nCrabb began to talk, slowly at first, then with heat. \"The message is clear enough. Pesquiera, through his puppet Aguilar, has made it plain that he's going back on his word. This is what we all feared when we learned that Pesquiera had whipped Gandara. Frankly I had hopes that Pesquiera would prove to be an honorable man and would keep faith with his contracts in spite of the fact that he no longer needed the services we were supposed to supply. After all, as you gentlemen know, Pesquiera is related to my wife, and I had hoped that would count for something. It's clear now, however, that not only is Pesquiera going back on his word, he's actually denying that he ever gave his word. From the wording of the threat Redondo gave us, it's plain that Pesquiera is trying to shift the blame to Gandara. That's what he meant by saying he would not honor any pacts made by 'previous administrations.' Of course it's hogwash, but the Mexican people will believe it. They'll believe anything Pesquiera tells them. They're fools\u2014cattle. They don't deserve sovereignty over this country. Look at the kind of backbiting men who are their leaders. Look at Pesquiera\u2014a man entirely without honor. Gentlemen, I believe that whatever else happens, the people of Sonora should at least be rescued from such foul dealers as Pesquiera and his followers.\"\n\nSus found himself smiling a little. It was typical of Crabb, to get confounded in his own rhetoric so that at one moment he condemned the people as cattle, and at the next moment he vowed that they deserved to be rescued from their leaders.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Crabb said, \"my friends. We have come far. The desert lies behind us. We have experienced many a hardship. If we allow ourselves to be intimidated and driven away by this pompous threat, then what is it all to come to? Have we labored in vain? I know that some of you fought in the war against Mexico not a decade past. You know the qualities of the Mexican fighting man. Without intending offense to my fine brother-in-law here\"\u2014Sus had to smile again\u2014\"I think we must all agree that as a soldier, the Mexican makes a very poor showing for himself. Gentlemen, I believe we have come too far to be turned back now. I believe we have expended too much money, too much effort, and too much time to allow ourselves to fail in the face of an empty threat. My friends\"\u2014and here his voice rose to a fine peak of energy\u2014\"I am convinced that together we must resolve to advance!\"\n\nIt was McCoun who offered objection. Colonel W. H. McCoun. Sus looked upon the man with a certain measure of cool contempt. McCoun had been a well-known leader in the state legislature for many years. He had held the respect and friendship of his constituents in the palm of his hand, until at a late date during the last elections he had switched his allegiance to Crabb and the Know-Nothings. And now McCoun gnawed the political bone that had been tossed to him\u2014the position of second-in-command of the expedition. Sus had never liked the big, balloon-cheeked man; he liked him even less now for his hedging.\n\n\"It's a nice speech, Henry,\" McCoun said. \"I applaud you. You have a knack of uttering the proper words of courage. But I'm not sure that this is the time for courage or rashness. After all, our skins hang in the balance.\"\n\nCrabb said quietly, \"I'm disappointed in you, old friend.\"\n\n\"If you want to despise me for cowardice, go ahead,\" McCoun said. \"But believe me, if mine were the only life I had to consider, I'd probably be a good deal bolder. As it is, I don't find it as easy as you seem to find it. In effect you're asking eighty or ninety men to march into a situation that we know is a hostile one. Even under the best of possible circumstances, men are bound to be hurt or killed.\"\n\n\"You seem to forget,\" Crabb told him, \"that within a week's time General Cosby will be on the Concepcion with a thousand troops. We have promised to meet him in the Altar valley. What is he to do if we don't arrive?\"\n\n\"I'm forgetting nothing,\" McCoun said. \"Send a dispatch rider to meet Cosby farther downriver. Tell him to turn back, if there's still time for it.\"\n\n\"And if there isn't? My friend, by this time Cosby has undoubtedly landed his force at Lobos Bay. If Pesquiera is looking for an armed invasion, he's already got one. You don't think we could stop him now, do you?\"\n\n\"We might be able to turn Cosby back before there's more bloodshed than necessary,\" McCoun insisted. \"Besides, with a thousand men he can take care of himself better than we can.\"\n\nCrabb looked up toward the mile-distant adobes of Sonoyta, golden in the afternoon sun. Shadows were sharp-edged and olive in color. He was stroking his brown beard\u2014it was, Sus knew, a sign of thoughtfulness. Presently he said, \"No. I suspect that if Pesquiera is preparing defenses against us, he will by now have been advised that Cosby's army has made a landing on the western shore. It will be a good opportunity for us to move down the Concepcion and take Altar and Caborca from behind, and reinforce Cosby's column from inland. Gentlemen, the truth of the matter is that we stand in a good strategic position. I don't understand this talk of retreat. If Pesquiera has alerted his troops, so much the better\u2014we shall catch him where he's not expecting it.\"\n\nSus watched him with interest. This was almost a new Crabb\u2014resolute, belligerent, offensive. He suspected that Pesquiera's brusque threat had piqued Crabb to the point of stubborn resistance and retaliation.\n\n\"I want to hear no more arguments,\" Crabb said. \"We will advance as planned.\"\n\nMcCoun, a politician, was unwilling to take orders flatly without response. He continued his argument, but failed to sway Crabb. Sus watched it all with dry amusement and a growing concern. His own principal objective in this affair was to restore his family to its proper place in the Sonoran hierarchy. The revolution years ago had stripped the Ainsa clan of its mines and lands and driven them out of Mexico. Displaced to San Francisco, they had done well; but it was a needle pricking the family pride that their lost properties in the Arizpe district had never been restored to them. Sus had seen, in the alliance between Crabb and Pesquiera\u2014both of them relatives\u2014a good chance to effect such a restoration of property and position. But now he could see easily enough that if Pesquiera had turned against Crabb in spite of his promise, then he would just as quickly turn against the Ainsa family in spite of his promise to them. It seemed clear enough to Sus that if he were to turn back now, he would have exhausted himself for nothing. Crabb was right. No doubt the general was exaggerating the ineffectiveness of Mexican soldiery, but at the same time Sus was confident that with Cosby's force on the mainland, victory was a distinct possibility. For himself he was willing to take the risks; as for the other men, it was not up to him to decide for them.\n\nThe meeting broke up in the late afternoon. McCoun went away disgruntled and dissatisfied. Holliday and McDowell left together, talking together with evident concern. The other officers drifted back to their companies and in a short while, with the sun half an hour above the horizon, Sus found himself alone with Crabb. Crabb nodded to him and said, \"Get out a pen and some paper, Sus. I want to dictate a letter to you. You'll translate it into Spanish.\"\n\nSus walked across a part of the camp to get to his traveling bag. Inside he found a quill pen, a sheaf of paper, an ink jar. He took these back with him toward Crabb. On the way he heard men talking earnestly among themselves. Word was already out; talk spread fast. An aura of excitement permeated the camp. Sus squatted down and balanced the paper on his knee. He uncapped the inkwell, dipped the pen, and said, \"All right.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" Crabb began, speaking slowly as he thought out his words. \"In accordance with the colonization laws of Mexico and with several definite invitations from the most influential citizens of Sonora, I have entered the boundaries of your state with one hundred followers and in advance of many others, expecting to make happy homes among you.\"\n\nSus wrote quickly: \" _De conformidad con las leyes de la Colonizati\u00f3n de M\u00e9xico_....\" When he finished he looked up.\n\nCrabb went on:\n\n\"I have come with the intention of hurting no one, with no intrigues either public or private.\"\n\nSus smiled but kept writing.\n\n\"Since my arrival,\" Crabb said, \"I have given no indication of evil designs, but on the contrary I have made peaceful overtures. It is true that I am equipped with weapons and powder, but you will know that it is not customary for Americans or any other civilized people to travel without them; furthermore we are about to travel where the Apache Indians are always committing depredations.\"\n\nSus wrote busily, now and then chewing the quill while he chose a word. Once he said, \"Wait one minute, _hermano_ ,\" and caught up. \"All right,\" he said. \"Go on from there.\"\n\n\"But bear in mind, sir,\" Crabb said, \"whatever we may be forced to endure shall fall on the heads of you and your followers.\"\n\n\"Let us pray,\" Sus murmured while he wrote. The sun was dropping into the clouds to the west. The sky grew dim and Sus had to bend over his writing.\n\nCrabb went on dictating: \"I have come to your land because I have the right to come, as I have shown, expecting to be greeted with open arms; but now I see that I am to meet death among enemies who are destitute of decency. I protest against any hostile act toward my companions here and about to arrive. You have your own path to follow, but keep this in mind: should blood be shed, it will be on your head, and not on mine. Nonetheless you are free to proceed with your evil preparations. As for me, I shall lose no time in advancing to the place where I have intended to go for some time, and I am now only awaiting my party. I am the leader and my intention is to obey the dictates of the laws of self-preservation and nature.\"\n\nCrabb nodded. \"Close it and I'll affix my signature.\"\n\nWhen the letter was sealed, Crabb said, \"Give it to this town warden\u2014what's his name?\"\n\n\"Redondo.\"\n\n\"Yes. I wonder if he's related to the Redondo who's the prefect of the Altar district? At any rate, give the letter to him and have him send it without delay. Give him some money to pay a messenger.\"\n\n\"I think,\" Sus suggested, \"that this letter will not be received with great joy.\"\n\n\"I've stated my position,\" Crabb answered. \"In view of that, they can hardly claim we invaded them under false pretenses, or that we sneaked up on them. The letter will give us a certain measure of protection if any of this ever comes to court.\"\n\n\"I suppose it will,\" Sus admitted. \"But I get the feeling that Pesquiera and his crew of cutthroats\u2014Gabilondo and the rest\u2014are not of the sort to be inclined toward courtroom victories.\"\n\n\"Just the same, it covers us from one direction, and states our intent plainly enough.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it does.\" Sus got up, feeling the taut bunching of his leg muscles, and turned away into the gathering twilight.\n\nIn town, he gave up the letter to Redondo and made every effort to impress the slow, fat _alcalde_ that the letter must be delivered without delay. Redondo displayed no reaction until Sus produced a number of gold coins, whereupon Redondo's eyes opened a little wider and he nodded, promising to see to it that the letter was dispatched in haste. Redondo went to the door, swept the plaza with his gaze, and expanded his chest to shout: \"Luis!\"\n\nA young man with a thin black mustache came up from the well, spurs making small sounds in the dusk. \" _S\u00ed, jefe?_ \"\n\nRedondo handed him the letter, mentioned the name and address of the officer to whom it was to be delivered for transfer into the governor's hands, and put coins in the young man's palm. Sus had to grin when he saw that the number of coins Redondo gave to Luis was not the same number of coins that Sus had given to the _alcalde_. Redondo said briskly, \"Ride immediately, Luis. The message is important. You can change horses at San Perfecto and Soquete.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, jefe_ ,\" Luis said, and strode away toward the stable.\n\nRedondo turned to Sus and nodded. \"The letter will be delivered with all possible haste, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\" _Mil gracias_ ,\" Sus murmured, and went outside. Clouds still hung tantalizingly on the western rim of the earth; they did not seem to have advanced at all. Sus thought with anticipatory pleasure of the possibility of rain\u2014rain to cool the air, to cleanse it, to muffle the stinging dust and pack the ground hard.\n\nWhen he arrived back in camp, Crabb was eating by himself under the shade of the mesquite tree so that he was hardly visible in the deep shadows there. Crabb had saved an extra plate; Sus sat down to eat with him. The clouds were painted brilliant shades of crimson and yellow. As he watched and ate, they dimmed visibly, and by the time his plate was emptied the only hue still distinguishable in the west was a paling pink that soon disappeared. He thought with amusement of the fat, self-important _alcalde_ who seemed so busy trying to please all sides at once. He took Crabb's utensils and his own, and scrubbed them clean with sand before he turned them in to the kitchen detail. When he was walking back to Crabb, he saw Norval Douglas sitting off by himself in the shadows smoking a pipe. Douglas's hatbrim rose, indicating his interest in Sus, and Sus waved. Douglas nodded and kept his solitary vigil. A hard and lonely man, Sus reflected.\n\nThe stars winked into visibility as a chipped cloudy whitewash on the sky's inverted surface. There was an endlessness about desert nights; the sky, never black, was usually a kind of deep substance of cobalt such as one might see looking into a gem-stone or a pool of still water. Crisply traced were the silhouettes of desert brush and cactus. The earth was pale cream in color and stretched away like a stilled ocean. At night there was almost always a gentle wind that brushed cheeks and ears with dry coolness.\n\nWhen the camp's after-supper chores were done, Crabb called for a meeting. Men built a single fire up until, huge and crimson, it dominated the desert and illuminated a wide area of expectant faces. The entire command stood around in a tightly bunched semicircle. Crabb stood so near the fire that he seemed in danger of being singed; the flames lit up one side of his face and clothing so that he appeared like a strange kind of bearded beast, one-half livid Mephistopheles and the other half a man in shadow. The round jut of his cheek glistened redly. He seemed to have planned it all for a calculated effect. He began to speak, mildly at first, then with increasing energy. Sus stood on the fringe of the companies, hands in his pockets, watching with his customary detached irony, but the power of Crabb's ascending fervor caught him up just as it caught up every soul in the crowd. The general's deep round voice boomed across the plains and slapped against the men like a prodding, searching fist, seeking out the points of leverage from which men's emotions might be turned, pressing gently enough but boosting every man to a peak of enthusiastic spirit. It was, Sus admitted, as inspired a rhetoric as Crabb had ever displayed; it was not colored or dampened by his usual spray of meaningless phrases, nor was it weakened by any of the contradictions with which his speeches had sometimes been hedged. It wheeled and darted, picking out facts and myths and molding them together so that one was indistinguishable from the other. It built, ignited, and fed a fire of resolution and trust\u2014a fire that leaped in men as this great bonfire danced on the desert. It lifted men and made them stretch tall in their boots. It dashed to earth and shattered any residue of uncertainty or reluctance or fear that might have settled in men's hearts. It condemned betrayal and made a scapegoat of Pesquiera; it called for honor and courage and fortitude. It demanded loyalty, and got it. It demanded unconditional affirmation, and got that too. And when Crabb was finished, his eyes gleaming and sweat pouring from his face, his arms finally subsiding, his tongue moistening cracked lips, then the command roared as with the giant voice of one giant man. It was a great cheer that rang across the desert night. And that, Sus knew, was exactly what Crabb had hoped for and calculated toward. He had the men now, as he had never had them before. They were his now; they were in his hands and he could make of them what he wished.\n\nIt had to be that way, Sus knew. It was the only way Crabb could maintain the expedition and fling it forward in the face of mounting adversities. After tonight, and for some time to come, men would remember the fire of the flame-painted orator, and no man would question him or the acts of his leadership.\n\nSus went with Crabb back to the mesquite tree by the arroyo. He spread his blankets and sat down, and saw that Crabb was trembling in all his joints. That much the speech had taken out of him. Crabb borrowed a cigar from him and lit it, and puffed furiously, presently lying back. The cigar shook violently in his fingers; he looked at his hand and smiled. \"That was a great moment, Sus. I don't think you know what it can feel like to hold the spirits of threescore men in your palm.\"\n\n\"I think I can get an idea of it,\" Sus said.\n\n\"It was a high point of my life,\" Crabb said. \"I don't think I've ever made a more stunning speech.\" He grinned; he was like a gleeful child at this moment. He smoked the cigar busily until it grew a tall ash; he flicked the ash away and poked the cigar into a corner of his mouth, and talked slurringly around it. \"A fine moment. A fine, fine moment, Sus.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nA nocturnal bird, perhaps a cactus owl, flapped by not far overhead. Sus wondered idly if the Evans boy had swept the camp for snakes, as he was supposed to do each night. He saw the outline of Norval Douglas's lean shape stalking the night; Douglas, supremely self-sufficient, was nonetheless a lonely and restless man. Sus wondered what had made the scout choose the kind of life he led. What, for that matter, caused anyone's choice of a course? Was it chance, or will?\n\n\"We can't stay here long,\" Crabb was saying. Sus dragged his mind back and nodded in answer. Crabb said, \"If McKinney and his party do not appear within forty-eight hours, we'll have to go on to the Conception without them.\" He paused, and added slowly, \"If that happens, I shall leave you behind to tell McKinney to come along after me with all possible haste. Those men who are absolutely unfit to travel will have to remain here. You will stay and watch over them.\"\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nSus frowned. Crabb ground his cigar into the earth with his bootheel. Sus said, \"What do you mean? Anyone could stay behind and act as nurse. Why choose me?\"\n\n\"Because,\" Crabb said bleakly, \"I have a strange feeling about what's ahead of us.\"\n\n\" _Tonter\u00eda_ ,\" Sus said, and swore. \"Foolishness.\"\n\n\"No doubt it is. Just the same, you will stay.\"\n\n\"You are ordering me?\"\n\n\"I am,\" Crabb said.\n\n\"What if I refuse to obey?\"\n\n\"Do you refuse?\" the general countered.\n\nSus grumbled. \"I shall have to think about it.\"\n\n\"Do that,\" Crabb said. He lay back with his elbows bent, hands under his head and one knee uplifted. Across the camp drifted the wail of the harmonica. \"That's a sign of spirit,\" Crabb said. \"I haven't heard that harmonica in weeks. I thought we'd lost it.\"\n\n\"What makes you think my skin is so valuable?\" Sus said.\n\nCrabb's answer was a long time coming. The moon appeared with startling abruptness in the east, over the peak called Baboquivari, and spread a pale glow across the desert surface. Presently Crabb spoke. \"All the officers in this expedition can be classified into two groups. Unemployed politicians and unemployed soldiers. They joined this expedition out of greed, or out of boredom, or perhaps out of a foolish delusion that by clinging to the tails of my coat they might rise to positions of power in a new state. To a man they possess a single opinion of me: that I am a misguided, disgruntled idealist with vast illusions. Well, so be it. Perhaps I am. At moments I look upon myself as a grand fool. But at least I am a fool with a purpose. I have a dream. I own a great sweep of imagination\u2014I can visualize this continent as it should be, and as it will be one day. All one great nation, from Panama to the Arctic. It is the American destiny. I'm not uttering political stupidities now, Sus. I mean what I say to you. In my lifetime I've spoken many a lie, when I thought it would gain a proper goal. But tonight you have the privilege of hearing an old sour politician give vent to the truth. I have my dreams and, even if they may be unattainable to me, I will at least have given my body and my soul toward the fulfillment of them. That much, my young friend, can be said for none of the others here. Their _cause celebre_ , whatever it may be, is a selfish one. Their dreams encompass no more of a scope than can be held in the hand or chalked up in an account book. In short, they deserve whatever befalls them. I refuse to make myself responsible for their folly simply because they have elected to follow my leadership.\"\n\nSus allowed a moment of respectful silence to intervene before he said, \"All that may be true, _hermano_ , although I confess it seems to me that you take a somewhat cynical view of some of our companions. Still, supposing it is true, what makes me any different from the others? Why single me out to remain behind?\"\n\n\"Because,\" Crabb said, \"you are the only one who means anything to me. Your own dream is not a great one. I know that. You simply hope to restore your family's name to its rightful position of respect, and regain a number of properties in the bargain. Even that much is a more honest end than what the rest of them seek. But the truth is that both of us know you are, underneath all your youthful insolence and lovemaking and good humor, a man of good heart. In truth I'm fond of you, Sus. It's more than I can say for any other man on this trip.\"\n\n\"And so,\" Sus said, \"you choose to leave behind you the only man whose company you enjoy.\"\n\n\"The trip henceforth will be more lonely for me,\" Crabb conceded.\n\n\"Then why leave me here?\"\n\n\"I'm not in a mood for arguments. Not even friendly ones.\"\n\n\"This is more than a friendly argument, _hermano_.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Crabb. \"You wish to know my reason?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"I don't want you to die.\"\n\n\"Do you expect to die?\"\n\n\"In truth, I don't know what to expect. I know only that I'll feel better if you do as I say, and if you stop questioning my instructions.\"\n\n\"I shall have to think about it,\" Sus said again, and rolled up in his blankets, troubled and pensive.\nCHAPTER 16\n\nMorning; the camp stirred, came alive. It would be a day of waiting. After breakfast old Edmonson sat by his folded blanket making repairs in a bridle; Charley watched him work.\n\nA roadrunner popped into sight not twenty feet distant and stood staring alertly at the two men. It was a big bird, almost two feet long from beak to the long heavy balance of straight tail feathers. Drab gray shot with streaks of black, it had two bright spots of color under its eyes. It blinked, cocked its head, and uttered a sound like a pigeon. \"That's a strange bird,\" Edmonson said. When he spoke the bird hopped away rapidly. \"You'd think on this desert, a bird that couldn't fly wouldn't have a chance.\"\n\n\"They can fly,\" Charley said.\n\n\"Not more than a few yards,\" Edmonson said. \"I've watched that one all morning. I think he lives here. He's a little angry with us for squatting on his property. Every few minutes he comes back to see if we've gone.\" Edmonson sighed and changed position. \"He's impatient to get rid of us. We're not welcome here, you see. It gives a man a sad feeling.\"\n\nCharley shaded his eyes with his hatbrim and swept the camp with an idle glance. Some men were playing poker in the miserly shade of a paloverde. By himself on the slope sat Carl Chapin, against whose young pallid flesh no amount of sun could throw a tan; Chapin bent over the gun he was cleaning and coughed once or twice, spitting beside him. The rasp of his cough reached Charley. General Crabb was at the lip of the arroyo, watching the camp and stroking his brown beard in thought.\n\nEdmonson put the bridle aside and began to pack his awl and lacings away in their kit. \"That should hold,\" he said in a satisfied way. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Charley caught him staring sadly toward the mountain peaks, hazed in violet distance. Edmonson said, \"I was thinking of the general's speech last night. It's frightening, the effect one man's will can have.\" The old man patted his pockets. \"Have you seen my pipe?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I dropped it by the campfire.\" He got up and walked away, his back a little stooped.\n\nCharley settled back to enjoy the day's ease, but just then a corner of his vision detected movement, and some distance to the west along the bank of the arroyo he saw a tan-gray jackrab-bit humping away as though on coil springs. Charley rolled around to reach his rifle, but the rabbit bounded out of sight down into the arroyo.\n\nHunger for the taste of meat pushed Charley to his feet. He walked to the rim of the cutbank and looked down the gully. Nothing stirred. On the back of his tongue was the aftertaste of the salty jerked beef he had eaten for breakfast today and yesterday and for numberless days before that. He checked the rifle's percussion cap and ran along the lip of the arroyo. The sun was hot on his shirt; the metal of the rifle's lockplate almost seared his hand. The arroyo made a sudden turn, and he saw the rabbit fifty yards down the dry bed, standing in quivering motionless-ness, it forepaws raised to cup something on a plant. One long ear twitched, and as Charley sighted his rifle, the rabbit plunged away in great loping bounds. He could hear the _slap-slap_ of its big hind feet against the soft sand in the arroyo. It leaped around a further bend; Charley muttered an oath and ran forward.\n\nBudding anger grew in him when the jackrabbit continued to elude him. He followed relentlessly. Every now and then it popped into sight, but dived away before he could take a shot at it. He almost thought it was laughing. Once he had it in his sights and was curling his finger around the trigger when it wheeled behind a scrub and skittered away down the bed of the winding arroyo. Charley's palms began to sweat; as he ran he wiped them, one at a time, against his trousers, swearing bright oaths.\n\nUnwilling to give up, he let the taunting jackrabbit lead him far from camp. He did not know how many miles he had come. He walked on weary legs and cursed monotonously. The arroyo curled around the end of a sparsely brush-dotted hill. When he rounded that turn he saw, not far ahead, a large clump of trees\u2014cottonwoods, mostly, with smaller mesquites and paloverdes roundabout. The jackrabbit was nowhere in sight.\n\nHe sighed and sat down, cuffing his hat back to release the collected sweat under its band. The tips of his hair, where it stuck out from under the hat, were bleached several shades lighter than the rest. He dragged his sleeve across his forehead to mop away sweat. When he looked back, the campsite was out of sight behind the hill he had come around, but the town of Sonoyta was visible across the burning flats\u2014box-shaped 'dobes, their hues weathered into the common bright drabness of the plain. Two or three miles away, he guessed; and that put the camp an equal distance away. It would be a long, dusty walk home, empty-handed. But he did not get up yet. He regretted that he did not have his canteen. He picked up a pebble, rubbed it clean, and sucked on it for a while, but even that did not seem to moisten his dry mouth.\n\nHe had another look at the clump of cottonwoods a hundred yards down the arroyo. Where there were trees, there must be water. Of course, the water might be some distance underground, inaccessible. But he was here now and it was worth a try. He got up wearily and was for a moment aware of the unwashed smell of his own body, baking in the sunlight. He trudged along the arroyo bank. When he came nearer the trees, the dry earth on the floor of the arroyo began to turn darker brown in color, an indication of moisture near the surface. A small excitement lifted him. He increased his pace.\n\nAbove the cottonwoods, on a little hill, squatted a soilitary building, a small square adobe house with thick walls and small windows. A clothesline ran back from a corner of the house, hung with sun-bleached clothes and pieces of cloth. It was a strangely incongruous scene on the face of the desert wilderness. Charley hesitated, watching the house, but there was no sign of activity there, and he went on into the cool shade of the tall cottonwoods.\n\nFor a moment it was like walking out of the sunlight into a dark room. He could make out nothing; his eyes had to accustom themselves to the dimness. The contrast between light and shade was that great on the desert. Presently he threaded a path among the trees and found, in the secluded center of the grove, a small pool. Its slightly steamy odor reached his nostrils. He bent down on its grassy bank. The water seemed reasonably clear; at least it was not stagnant. No doubt the pool was fed by some kind of artesian spring. It was a strange thing to find in such country; here in the depths of the grove the desert flats were almost concealed from sight, and except for the heat of the air, which was diminished by the shade, it would have been easy to believe himself back in the California hills. The water lapped gently near his knees. Since there was no wind, the movement of the water must be due to an underground flow. He cupped his hands and knelt forward, brought a handful of water to his mouth and sipped tentatively. It tasted fresh and clean. He swept off his hat and lay belly-flat on the bank, pushing his face into the water, running the water through his hair, splashing it down under the back of his collar. He kept his face under water until he felt the need to breathe. Then he sat up, and a thought came to him, pulling his lips back in a smile that was both sly and happy.\n\nHe got to his feet and walked around the pool, and went up toward the far fringe of the trees until he could see the adobe house. A small breeze came along, cooling his damp hair and face, and a moment later, traveling uphill, it made the hanging garments flap lazily. No one was in view.\n\nStill smiling, Charley turned back to the pool. At its bank he stripped quickly and waded into the center of it. The water was about three feet deep; he crouched down until it covered him up to his neck. Tossing his head back he looked at the sky, interlaced with branches; and let the cool luxury of the water lull him. After a while he moved closer to the bank and lay down on his back in the water, his head up on the bank, his feet floating. The water moved very gently around his naked flesh. This was what life was made for; such pleasures were a man's magnificence. He resolved to lie here until the water cleansed every pore and penetrated to the innermost dry centers of his bones.\n\nA jackrabbit\u2014he could not tell if it was the one that had led him here\u2014popped its head out of the brush and stood uncertainly, staring at him, shaded by the massive overhang of a cot-tonwood limb. Charley stared back. His rifle and pistol were both up the bank with his clothes, but he made no movement toward them. Today he would not shoot anything. He let himself lie still and grinned amiably at the rabbit. Presently, assured, it moved slowly forward to the bank of the pool and stooped to test the water with its tongue. Charley studied it at close range. Presently the rabbit turned away and left. Charley closed his eyes down to slits and watched the reflected brilliance of the sky ripple along the surface of the pool when he wiggled his toes. The silence was deep and comfortable until a small flock of birds settled down in the trees and began to chirp. He shut his eyes, smiling. He did not notice when the birds flapped away.\n\nThe mud underneath was a soft mattress cradling his body. The itch that had troubled his back this morning came back to him now; he tried to scrape himself against the mud, but it was too pliable and did not scratch him sufficiently. In a moment he got up out of the water and felt the wonderful cool touch of the air against his glistening flesh. He walked barefoot to the trunk of a cottonwood and put his back to the tree, and rubbed himself up and down against it like a bear. The rough bark scratched his back satisfactorily, and still with a smile he returned to the shaded side of the pool and paddled around before again settling down on his back. He closed his eyes pleasurably and had a vision of the street of Sonora town, gray with rain, the face of the Triple Ace saloon, Gail standing in the doorway smiling. It was such a long time ago, it seemed a childhood memory. There were hard calluses on the soles of his feet and across his shoulder where the rifle-strap hung; his upper arms were thickly muscled and his legs had carried him hundreds of miles.\n\nThe water brushed him like a woman's soft hands and it occurred to him, as a surprise, that he was not lonely. It was not possible really to understand anyone; how then could any kind of real friendship be reached? Probably the truth was that humans were not comprehensible in human terms. And if you could not reach a man, you could not be his friend.\n\nIt was a crazy line of thought. His mind drifted around and his eyes, opening, followed the aimless passage of a wind-blown yellow leaf that floated near his toes. The sun had moved along above the cottonwoods, pushing the shade ahead of its rays, and he was almost into its glare. In a little while he would move. He would get up and stretch out on the bank and let the wind make him cold. He was slightly hungry. He remembered something Norval Douglas had said to him, back along the trail at a campfire. The harmonica had been making brief noises, someone tentatively breathing into it, and had stopped quickly; its owner apparently was not in a mood for it. Douglas had been chewing on a yellow stalk he had pulled out of the ground; he had been lying on one elbow, and had said in the darkness, \"You can be alone for a long time, but then you want somebody to talk to. It doesn't matter very much whether he understands you, but you've got to have the illusion of getting through to him.\"\n\nThe floating dead leaf brushed his chin. He picked it up and crumpled it in his hand, and threw it up on the bank. That was when he heard, quite close by, the sound of a soft voice chuckling throatily.\n\nHe had to sit up in the water to look around. For a moment he almost thought it was another vision in his mind. A girl with a long graceful neck sat by his clothes. She was laughing at him; her eyes glistened. Charley stared at her. Her laughter grew more brilliant. Groping for words, Charley said, \" _Buenos d\u00edas_.\" It only increased her laughter. Charley slid into deeper water and glared at the girl. \"What the hell's so funny?\"\n\nHer hand came up and pointed straight at him, and then she lay back flat on the mossy earth, lurching with laughter, soft insistent bubbling of liquid humor. Charley looked down at the surface of the water. Sunlight dappled it; ripples spread away from him. The girl was young but her body was fully molded. She wore sandals and a cheap dress. She sat up and said, \"Why don't you come out of the water?\" and lay back again with violent laughter. Her face was small, smooth, brown, delicate. She spoke English without hesitation, but with a strange lingering accent. She sat up again and primly smoothed the dress across her lap. Her feet came back under the dress and she sat cross-legged, her back quite slim and straight, looking at him, wiping tears from her eyes. \"Very funny,\" Charley muttered. He wished fervently that she had left him alone in solitary possession of the grove and pool.\n\n\"You do not look like a dangerous pirate to me,\" the girl said.\n\n\"Who said I was a dangerous pirate?\"\n\n\"You are with the party of men at the arroyo?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"My father says you are pirates,\" she said.\n\n\"Who's your father?\"\n\n\"The _alcalde_.\"\n\nCharley thought of the fat man on the porch of the store, who had never stirred out of his cane-bottom chair when they had marched into Sonoyta. \"Are you really a pirate?\" the girl said inquisitively. \"I have never seen a pirate.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, and cursed inwardly. \"I'm not a pirate.\"\n\n\"What are you, then?\"\n\nHe hunted around for words but could find none that he felt would adequately describe him, and so he said, \"I'm a traveler, that's all.\"\n\n\"A traveling _caballero_ ,\" the girl said musingly. A lacework of shadows from the treetops swayed slowly across her face. \"Perhaps you will look more dangerous with your clothes on and a gun in your fist, eh, _caballero?_ \"\n\n\"You've got a fine sense of humor,\" Charley grumbled. \"Why don't you go away?\"\n\nThe girl's full lips pouted in mock anger. \"The se\u00f1or does not enjoy my presence.\"\n\n\"What would your father say?\"\n\n\"My father is not here.\"\n\n\"Do you keep secrets from him?\"\n\n\"All the time,\" she said cheerfully. \"My father barks very much. He does not bite.\" She shrugged her shoulders prettily. \"He is old and lazy. What is your name?\"\n\n\"Charley.\"\n\n\"I am Teresa.\"\n\n\"Pleased to meet you,\" he said grudgingly. He felt embarrassed, though he knew she could not see the part of him that was under water. The girl showed no sign of preparing to leave. She sat comfortably and lifted a small basket to her lap. Out of it she took a handful of berries. She ate a few of them and then looked at him out of the side of her vision. \"The berries grow here,\" she said. \"Would you like some?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nShe held out her hand, full of berries. Charley sat where he was and tried to assume an angry glower. The girl said, \"You do not have to be shy,\" and chuckled maddeningly. She was pretty and would have seemed out of place anywhere on the desert but here in this grove. It was all very improbable, and it would not have taken much to convince Charley that he was dreaming, except that the air on his bare shoulders was too cold and the sky too bright and the water too wet. \"What do you want?\" Charley said angrily.\n\nShe only looked at him out of wide, frank eyes, very dark and large. After a while she said absently, \"I am staying in the house over there with my aunt. My aunt has gone to town.\" Then she stood up with her basket and chuckled when she looked at him, and went off through the cottonwoods with a springy gait like a young colt, long-legged and supple.\n\nWhen she was gone Charley climbed out of the pool and stood restlessly on the bank. The air was cool. He lay down on his belly until he was dry. The girl's intrusion had broken up the day; for a while he resented it. But then, after he put on his clothes and buckled on his gunbelt and picked up the rifle, he looked around thoughtfully and yawned and, when he left the grove, turned uphill toward the little adobe house.\nCHAPTER 17\n\nCaborca. The church, twin-domed, dominated the town square; it sat on the east end of the plaza, backing up against a dry creek-bed which, now and then, grew damp and flowed in a brown trickle; and which roared frothily during rains. Around the square stood galleried adobe structures, in part dwarfed by the tall palm trees that grew haphazardly around the town. The _padre_ came out on the church steps and fingered the rope that belted his dark brown robes. A heavy woman with skin almost black, creased and cracked by weather, shuffled on her sandals, stirring up dust. The _padre_ smiled and spoke a few words to her. She lifted a disreputable scarf over her head and went into the cool dimness of the church. A farmer came into the square leading his burro; on its back were packs of fresh vegetables. He led it toward the _abacer\u00eda_ , the grocery store. The burro was small and gray and seemed too fragile for its load; the farmer was short and bent in soiled white clothing and a wide hat. His face was out of sight in shadow. Lorenzo Rodriguez led his troops into the square at two in the afternoon, lined them up along one side of the plaza and left them standing at ease while he consulted with his officers and the leaders of the town.\n\nIt was hot. Rodriguez ran a handkerchief around his neck, under his blouse collar. He removed his hat and mopped his forehead. The two lieutenants came up and he said to the first lieutenant, \"Arrange to have the men billeted in homes,\" and to the second lieutenant, \"Commandeer enough food for our men for the next four days. Arrange for a building to be used as a mess hall.\" The two lieutenants saluted him and turned away. Rodriguez wiped his face with the handkerchief and turned to the city leaders\u2014the _comisario_ , the _alcalde_ , the _padre_. He sighed and whipped his glance across their faces. The _alcalde_ seemed to be a sensible old man. The _comisario_ looked greedy. And as for the _padre_ \u2014he was a Franciscan; that was all. Rodriguez had never understood priests.\n\nHe stood young and tall, a dark man with a handsome, slightly evil face, very trim in his uniform. He held his hand over the hilt of his sword when he spoke to them. \"I have been sent here by the office of Ignacio Pesquiera, who as you know has assumed the position of substitute governor since the abdication of Aguilar. My function is to inform you that there may be an attack made on this city by a group of gringo filibusters.\"\n\nThe _alcalde_ and the _comisario_ looked at one another. The _comisario_ said, \"Filibusters?\" and his face turned fearful.\n\n\"They were invited to come here by the Gandara administration,\" Rodriguez said, and his voice had the sound of truth. \"There will be not more than a hundred of them, I can assure you. They may heed our kind advice and turn back at Sonoyta, but that is doubtful, very doubtful. Probably they will come this way. _Por aqu\u00ed_ , you understand? We must be prepared for them.\"\n\nThe _comisario_ swallowed and said, \"How long do we have?\"\n\nRodriguez shrugged. \"Perhaps two days, perhaps two weeks.\"\n\n\"How shall we prepare for them?\"\n\n\"I will take it upon myself to train and equip the young men of the town,\" Rodriguez said. \"You will have all the young men report to my sergeants for training. They will be issued muskets and ammunition. As for the rest, the women and old men and children, I suggest you organize them into groups, encourage them to stay under cover away from the center of town, and keep with them enough provisions to withstand a brief siege if it becomes necessary.\"\n\n\"A siege?\"\n\n\"I hope that will not occur,\" Rodriguez said. \"Already I have posted guards some distance up the roads. If the filibusters come, we should be given ample warning of their approach. I hope to meet them outside the town and bring an end to it. But they are better armed than we are\u2014one has to do the best he can with what he has, you see. It may be necessary for us to draw them into the town so that we can hold them here until General Gabilondo arrives with reinforcements.\"\n\n\" _Por Di\u00f3s_ ,\" the _padre_ muttered. \"We must pray for our people.\"\n\n\"You might say a prayer or two for the filibusters too,\" Rodriguez said with a small grin.\n\n\"Bah,\" the _padre_ said, and spat. \"They are pigs. But if they walk on two legs I suppose they are entitled to God's mercy.\"\n\n\"You are most charitable, good priest.\"\n\nThe _padre_ turned toward the church, his robes flapping. Rodriguez said to the _comisario_ , \"I am afraid the town stores will have to be made available to my men. We do not wish to tax the town more than necessary, but my men must eat.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the _comisario_ said reluctantly.\n\n\"Do not be so sad,\" Rodriguez murmured drily. \"I only seek to save your town, _comisario_.\"\n\n\"Or perhaps use it for a battleground,\" the _comisario_ replied. \"Which is it, Captain?\"\n\n\"Do you want me to take my troops with me and leave?\" Rodriguez demanded immediately. \"I should like to see what might happen to this town of yours if the filibusters were given free rein to sack it.\"\n\nThe glum _comisario_ spread his hands. \"All right,\" he said. \"All right. You will have our cooperation, Captain. It is just that no man wishes to see his home turned into a barracks.\"\n\n\"Of course. I understand perfectly,\" Rodriguez said coolly. \"My tongue is dry, gentlemen. Is there a cantina where we might continue our talk?\"\n\n\"This way,\" the _alcalde_ said.\n\nInside the cantina it was cool and dark. The barkeep drew three _cervezas_ and set the mugs before them. Rodriguez took his beer back to a rickety hand-hewn table in a corner of the room where it seemed coolest, and sat, adjusting his sword so that it did not dig against his ribs. Not far away a girl sat listlessly over a glass of tequila, staring without interest at the face of the fat young man with her. The girl wore a low-scoop blouse and a flower in her hair. Probably the local _puta_ , Rodriguez thought, but she was less ugly than most of her kind. Her eyes flicked past him, hesitated, and came back. Rodriguez dipped his head to her and the girl smiled. That would do very nicely for later, Rodriguez decided, and thought for a moment of his wife in Hermosillo. He said to the _alcalde_ , \"It might be a good idea if you were to call a meeting of the townspeople and let me explain to them what we are doing here.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the _alcalde_ said. \"I had thought the same thing.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said the _comisario_ , \"perhaps we should not alarm the people unduly.\"\n\n\"They must be told,\" Rodriguez said, disliking the man for his obtuseness. \"Would you rather have them wonder what we are doing here and resent the billeting of my troops in their houses? They must be prepared, and it is best that they know what is going on as soon as possible. As it is, enough of them will run away.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" the _comisario_ grumbled.\n\nThe _alcalde_ said, \"I will have someone ring the church bell,\" and got up from his beer to pick a path through the tables and go out into the sun.\n\nThe _comisario_ was frugal enough to finish his beer before he went. Rodriguez was happy to see him leave. Afterward he sat and smiled at the girl with the flower in her hair. He remembered when he had first met his wife. She had been a girl then, no older than this whore, but she had carried herself with a fine composure. It had been, he remembered, at a ball given by the prefect of Hermosillo. A very fine ball. Chandeliers and wine, fine ladies and music. And from that he had come away to this dusty little town on the Rio Concepcion to fight against an army of foreigners. He drank his beer down and touched the hilt of his sword. At Ures they thought him a dandy, a wealthy young man who liked to show himself off in a uniform. He would demonstrate to them that he was as good a fighting soldier as any of them. He smiled at the girl with the flower in her hair.\n\nWhen Charley returned to camp in the evening it was time to eat. He spoke to no one, ate a lonely meal, and afterward cleaned his utensils with sand. The sun went down and the harmonica breathed its sorrowful way across the camp; men settled down to play cards, soap saddles, talk, sleep. There was an attitude of confidence in the faces roundabout. Charley felt adrift. He went back over the long afternoon's conversation with the girl. Flirting and small talk\u2014arts at which he was not expert. He had spoken, though, of little things: of the cool pleasure of the shaded cottonwood pool, of the plans in his mind, hanging there vaguely, to build a little house in Mexico and work the ground for gold, of things he had seen in Stockton and Sacramento and San Francisco, of childhood recollections of New Orleans\u2014cotton barkers hawking at an auction, the filthy old streets, darkies hauling river barges with thick ropes bent around their shoulders, dandy swells in their finery stalking the walks, his stepfather sending him to a corner saloon with a pail for beer. The girl had showed wistful interest, and in her turn had told of a dusty little horned-toad she had kept as a pet, of a time when her father the _alcalde_ had whipped a youth because the youth had spoken to her, of the little things that touched her heart. Hers was a romantic soul and she spoke of such things as birdsongs and a long ago friendship with a coyote cub. It was all very strange and in a way sad, for it made him think of other places and he began to wish he had not come along on this senseless journey.\n\nWhen the sky was star-peppered and campfires blossomed red and men settled in, Charley got up softly from his blankets and walked out into the desert alone. The night air carried the sharp, raw scent of the wild country. Fine short wrinkles converged around his eyes when he looked up toward the faint glitter of distant stars. Dry branches rustled before small winds.\n\nIndecision plagued him; he wondered if he had made a mistake coming here; he was afraid. Always inclined to stuff his feelings down inside where they wouldn't show, he walked slowly and listened to the crunch of his feet and the occasional crackle of a creosote twig or cholla segment that would break underfoot in the dark, and in spite of his aloneness in the world his expression displayed none of the tugging that went on in his soul. He wished he could know, for certain, whether to quit or go on\u2014or whether it made any real difference whatever he did. In that mood, a sudden mood, he sat down on his haunches and tossed pebbles.\n\nHe had come to know that no one ever had much warning of the conflicts brought by each moment's waking; there had to be times when, taken by surprise, he had to act and stand behind that act forever, even though he might have acted for no reason whatever. He had the feeling that most of his life had resulted not so much from will as from accident. If that were not true, there was no adequate reason for his being here.\n\nAnd the end result of it was that no living person had a claim on him and he had no claim on anybody. It made him recall what Norval Douglas had said to him one day\u2014that every man had to live by himself, for himself; that was as it should be. \"When you've got no one to please but yourself,\" Douglas had told him, \"then you're all right. It's a mistake to begin thinking you matter to somebody.\"\n\nHe didn't know. A coyote yapped across the night from some distant point. He got up and went back, slipped into camp without bothering anyone, and rolled up in his blanket, thinking of the girl with the long neck on the mossy bank of the water hole. It was some time before he got to sleep.\nCHAPTER 18\n\nSus came up from the camp and stood before Crabb, and looked at his feet. Crabb said, \"Well?\"\n\n\"Well, what?\"\n\n\"We're ready to leave,\" Crabb said, looking forward at the men lined up, the pack animals grouped together, the officers mounted on chafing horses. Crabb stood by the head of his horse, ready to mount. \"McKinney should be along any time now with the wounded. You'll give him my instructions?\"\n\n\"I will,\" Sus said, with a tone of stiffness.\n\nCrabb took the attitude of a man letting pent-up air out of his lungs. \"Good. I was half-expecting an argument.\"\n\n\"Would it have done any good?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nSus smiled vaguely. Crabb came forward leading the horse, his hand outstretched. Sus took it gravely. Afterward Crabb swung up into the saddle, a trifle awkwardly; he was no horseman. Sus stood back and touched his hatbrim. Crabb wheeled away from him and cantered to the head of the column. Sus watched them go, sixty-eight men, including the tall distant shape of Norval Douglas on the horizon, waving them forward into Mexico. Sus wondered when he would see them again.\n\nHe stood by the arroyo until the last of the long gray worm of men had crawled out of sight over the distant gentle slope. By then the sun was high enough to warm the earth and make it glitter. He looked over the abandoned campground\u2014the dead signs of campfires, the horse-hollow grazed bare, the confusion of footprints and litter of discarded small articles that marked a camp and said, They passed by here. _Pasaron por aqu\u00ed_. Perhaps one day someone would put up a monument commemorating their passage.\n\nThe dust had all settled; the land was still. Sus looked back on the months behind them and found himself most surprised by one thing: that the trek had not been marked by the kind of easy comradeship that should have been part of it. It was not as if he stood here left behind by a company of friends. He could remember a decade ago when his father had come back from the war, which had really not been much of a war, for California's independence. On a field above the town they had mustered out the troops, and afterward there had been laughing and pushing, men with arms about each other's shoulders, hats thrown in the air, guns wildly discharged. His father had brought home three comrades, fed them and given them shelter. But this expedition had none of that feeling; and he knew now that he had discovered its fault. There were too many resentments, suspicions, fears among these men. He had not recognized it when he had walked among them, but he saw it now in the ashes of the abandoned fires. Intrigues and secret conflicts were the premises here. There was no real common goal. In spite of the artificial bolstering that Crabb's inspiring oratory had given them, there was no strong loyalty in the group. Crabb had been right about them. Private ambitions and greed drove most of the men. Some of them, like McCoun, were full of bluster but at bottom afraid.\n\nIt was not an encouraging line of thought. He turned slowly toward Sonoyta and began to walk that way.\n\nBy the time he reached the plaza he was hungry. In Redondo's store he ate some cheese and tortillas, spiced with chili peppers and washed down with dark beer. When he went back outside, Redondo was in his customary position on the porch, one boot cocked up on the rail, picking his teeth. Redondo said in Spanish, \"Your friends have all departed.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why do you remain?\"\n\n\"There are more men coming along. I am to meet them here.\"\n\n\"More men?\" Redondo said musingly, and shrugged absently, as if in the long run it made no difference.\n\n\"Some of them may be too ill to travel farther,\" Sus said. \"I am to take care of them. Where can they be billeted?\"\n\n\"Not here,\" Redondo said promptly.\n\n\"Why not here?\"\n\n\"No one would take them in,\" Redondo said in an offhand way.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"The people of this town know what you are. They do not wish to be caught harboring filibusters.\"\n\nSus made a scoffing noise. \"These men are sick. They will harm no one.\"\n\n\"That is what we intend to make sure of. You might put them up at Dunbar's trading post. That is a few miles north and east of here. It is not in Mexico.\"\n\n\"Are we in Mexico here?\"\n\n\"In truth,\" said the thickset _alcalde_ , \"it is a matter of opinion. The opinion at Ures is that we are in Mexico. Governor Aguilar will probably have troops here soon enough.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\nRedondo made no answer. He studied the damp softened tip of his toothpick. After a moment he threw it away and found another in his pocket. Sus wondered darkly if Redondo was bluffing, but decided there would be little point in that. But what did it mean? He could not make sense out of Pesquiera's sending troops here to Sonoyta. It would be locking the barn after the theft of the horse. He said, \"How far is Dunbar's trading post, _Alcalde?_ \"\n\n\"Not far. An hour's ride, perhaps less.\"\n\n\"Dunbar is a _Norteamericano?_ \"\n\n\"He is Scottish, I think.\"\n\n\"Perhaps we will go there, then.\"\n\n\"It would be wise for you to go there.\"\n\n\" _Gracias_ ,\" Sus said drily.\n\n\" _De nada_.\" The fat man twisted his neck around to look at the thermometer. \"In the shade,\" he muttered, \"ninety-four degrees.\" He made a clucking noise with his tongue. \"It is not yet April. What will July be like?\"\n\n\"Worse.\"\n\n\"I am sure of that,\" said Redondo.\n\nSus went inside the store and scooped a handful of salt crackers from the open barrel. The afternoon proceeded to drag by. He was to find that it would be two more days before McKinney arrived; during that time Sus amused himself as best he could. The next night he drank alone, and on the second morning he went for a walk in the desert, kicking stones, until it became hot and he returned after a splash in the pool to Redondo's shaded porch. Redondo sat in his usual place; once in a while they exchanged comments. Customers drifted in and out of the place; it must have been Saturday, for a good number of farmers were in town from outlying areas. How they found it possible to grow crops in this country was beyond Sus, but he guessed there must be occasional green canyons in the roundabout hills.\n\nAbout noon a young, lean rider trotted into the square and stepped down at the well to drink and water his horse, and then came dragging his musical spurs to the store, and said to Redondo, \"I wish to speak to you.\" After a look at Sus the young man added, \"Privately, _por favor_.\"\n\nRedondo conferred with the man inside the store, and afterward, when the young man went off to the stable, Redondo said to Sus, \"The troops are coming. I hope your men arrive soon, amigo.\"\n\n\"How soon will the troops come?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow, probably in the morning.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Sus frowned toward the northwestern desert, from which McKinney must come.\n\nThrough the afternoon he began to chafe. Then, at about four o'clock, a rising column of dust to the northwest brought him to his feet. He stood at the edge of the porch, rocking on the balls of his feet, and said to Redondo, \"Point out to me the way to Dunbar's store.\"\n\nRedondo did not rise. He flung out an arm. \"Northeast. You go through that notch between the two round hills. It is one mile beyond that. You will see it from the hills. It is surrounded by trees; there is a spring.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" Sus said, and stepped off the porch. He walked across the plaza and out of town, going toward the advancing dust cloud. Hot air met him in the face and sultry heat lay close along the ground.\n\nDistances were deceiving along the desert flats. He had walked almost five miles before he was able to separate the men and horses from the dust cloud. He sat down in the near-worthless shadow of a stunted paloverde to wait for them. It took almost an hour; presently he recognized McKinney, and stood up to wave his arm in signal.\n\nMcKinney drew rein, halting the column. Sus looked back along the ranks. Four men clung to saddles; the rest, fifteen in number, walked, some of them leading pack animals. McKinney greeted Sus without enthusiasm. Dust caked his dry flesh and his eyes were bloodshot. He climbed wearily off the saddle and said, \"How far is it to Sonoyta?\"\n\n\"A few miles. But I've got instructions for you.\"\n\n\"Go ahead,\" McKinney said. He seemed washed out.\n\n\"The Mexicans are making threats against us,\" Sus told him. \"The general decided to go on to the Concepcion and meet Cosby there before Pesquiera makes up his mind to act against us.\"\n\nMcKinney looked very tired. He nodded. \"I see.\" He looked back along the line of men, expectantly waiting. \"How long ago did he leave?\"\n\n\"Two days ago. They were making good time.\"\n\n\"At the rate we're traveling,\" McKinney said, \"it will take a week to catch them.\"\n\n\"How many men do you have who aren't fit to go on?\"\n\nMcKinney made a gesture with his thumb. \"The four on horseback.\" He removed his hat and rubbed his bald, pointed head. Sus looked at the four men. They all hung precariously to their saddles.\n\nSus drew in a long breath and said quietly, \"Your instructions are to follow the general and catch up as quickly as you can. I'll take these four men with me to Dunbar's trading post.\"\n\n\"All right,\" McKinney said, showing no surprise. He added absently, \"I wonder what happened to the men who went to Tucson for reinforcements.\"\n\n\"They haven't had time to get here yet.\"\n\n\"I guess not.\" McKinney looked back down the line. \"We'll camp here. I'll send somebody in to Sonoyta for water and supplies.\"\n\n\"They'll find the pickings poor.\"\n\nMcKinney shrugged. He didn't seem to care. Sus said, \"If I were you I'd try to be out of here by morning. Some Mexican troops will be coming here sometime tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" McKinney said, \"fine and dandy. Do you want to take those four with you now?\"\n\n\"All right,\" Sus said.\n\nIn the night, Sus thought he heard gunshots faint in the distance, but he was not sure. It might be a trick of the night winds of the desert. Just the same, he quickened his steps.\n\nIn the past fortnight he had watched carefully over the four men at the trading post. Two of them were so ill they were unable to sit up to eat. He had hired two fat Sonoyta women to care for them, and he had brought corn-flour tortillas, eggs, and milk from town for them. But on the second day the troops had come, and the villagers had become afraid. On the fifth day all of them closed their doors to him and no woman would come to Dunbar's to help care for the sick. Redondo remained noncommittal, but said the soldiers would keep to their side of the border. Rumors of battles and massacres came up from the Concepcion valley on the lips of Indians and traveling men; it all sounded unreasonable.\n\nSus walked across the pale desert on legs that had grown muscular. He carried five precious eggs, stolen. He traveled through the hill notch and saw a lamp burning at Dunbar's; all seemed well. Then horsemen drummed forward in the darkness, a large party, and he knew it was too late to seek concealment; they had seen him silhouetted. He stood still, waiting for them to come up.\n\nThe horsemen were shouting: \" _Viva M\u00e9xico! Mueran los gringos!_ \" Death to the gringos. What did it mean?\n\nA hoarse voice shot forward from the horsemen: \"Sus\u2014Sus Ainsa.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" he answered warily. He touched his gun but saw immediately the patent uselessness of that gesture. The riders were all around him. The man who had spoken dismounted and bounded forward, cuffing back his hat. \"Sus\u2014you remember me?\"\n\n\"Jes\u00fas Ojeda,\" he said, and smiled uncertainly. \"Como _est\u00e1?_ \"\n\n\" _Bien_ ,\" Ojeda said, and clasped his shoulders. Then the grin went away from his cheeks and he said, \"I must arrest you, my friend.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I am ordered to arrest you.\"\n\n\"What for?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"You can't,\" Sus said. \"This is not Mexican soil.\"\n\nOjeda shook his head gravely. \"I have my orders, amigo. I must obey.\"\n\n\"But you can't!\" Sus found that he was shouting. He resolved to quiet down. He looked up at the others and then realized that they were coming not from the direction of Mexico, but from the trading post. Reluctant understanding seeped into his mind and he said slowly, \"Jes\u00fas\u2014Jes\u00fas, old friend, what have you done to my friends down there?\" And held his breath.\n\nOjeda turned his palms up. \"They are dead.\"\n\n\"All of them?\"\n\n\"All dead, all four.\"\n\nFury bunched Sus's fists. \"What in God's name for?\"\n\nOjeda's reaction was the same shrug, the same palms turned up. \"I told you, amigo\u2014I am under orders. I am a soldier.\"\n\n\"Those men were sick.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Ojeda said mildly. \"Now they are sick no more.\"\n\n\"God,\" Sus breathed. \"What has turned you into a butcher, Jes\u00fas?\"\n\nOjeda said nothing in reply. He stepped forward to lift the gun from Sus's holster, and rammed it into his own belt. \"We will go now.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"To Mexico,\" Ojeda said.\nCHAPTER 19\n\nTwo weeks before the arrest of Sus Ainsa, the column of seventy with Crabb at its head entered the valley of the Rio Concepcion. It was a hot morning, the sky was blue and clear, dust raveled above the column, and Crabb had thrown out guards on either flank to watch the horizons. At the same time in various places a number of incidents took place. At Ures, Acting Governor Pesquiera visited former Governor Aguilar's cell, spoke desultorily to the man, and went back to his office to pace the floor, restively awaiting news from his far-flung outposts. Gabilondo was at El Claro on the Rio de San Ignacio, raising an army in a leisurely way. Giron, also recruiting, was to join Gabilondo later in the week at Pitiquito, where the San Ignacio had its confluence with the Concepcion, not far upstream from Caborca. In San Francisco, fifteen hundred miles away, a prostitute whose name was unknown stopped at the cemetery to put flowers on General Cosby's grave. At San Perfecto, not too far south of Sonoyta on the way to the Concepcion valley, Captain Freeman McKinney was giving his weary men a day's rest in the shade. In Caborca, Captain Lorenzo Rodriguez received from his scouts intelligence of the advance of the party of filibusters toward the town. He acted accordingly. At Sonoyta, on the border, Redondo was sitting on his porch picking his teeth and Sus was down at the pool bathing. At Tucson, Arizona, about two hundred miles northeast of Caborca as the crow might fly, the men who had left Crabb's group at Yuma\u2014Charles Tozer and Bob Wood\u2014had organized a relief party that included such prominent Arizona pioneers as John G. Capron and Granville H. Oury. By now this party, going to the aid of Crabb, numbering twenty-six men, had left Tucson and was in the vicinity of Calabasas. And twenty-five hundred miles east by northeast, the populace was deep in consideration of the recent inaugural address of President James Buchanan and the Supreme Court's decision in the case of one Dred Scott, a Negro slave who had sued for his freedom on the grounds that he resided in a free-soil territory; the Court refused Scott's appeal and held that he was not a citizen of the United States and thus was not entitled to sue in a Federal court. In New York, John Butterfield was busy organizing a transcontinental stagecoach line to be known as the Butterfield Overland Mail. In San Francisco, Filomena Ainsa Crabb reread for the eleventh time the last letter she had received from her husband. It had been written at Fort Yuma. At Sonora, California, a small fire began in the back of the Triple Ace saloon but was brought under control before it did much damage.\n\nLorenzo Rodriguez sat in the dim corner of the cantina and admired the whore who sat at the table with him, a flower in her hair. The _alcalde_ came in and went immediately to Rodriguez's table and, ignoring the woman, said, \"I have organized the noncombatants in their houses with provisions.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Rodriguez said. The _alcalde_ stood hesitantly until Rodriguez waved his hand. \"You had better get to a safe place, amigo. The filibusters are not far from town.\"\n\n\"Then why do you sit here?\"\n\n\"It does not pay to hurry,\" Rodriguez said mildly. \"They will be along presently. My scouts keep me informed. Go, now.\"\n\nThe _alcalde_ said, \"Is there nothing else I can do? I used to be a good shot.\"\n\n\"Post yourself on the square, then, with a musket.\"\n\n\"I will.\" The _alcalde_ left. Rodriguez met the _puta's_ yellow-toothed smile and touched the flower in her hair. He was thinking of his wife in Hermosillo and wondering with what wealthy _don_ she had slept the night past. He thought of his genteel life there and of the sordid dimness of this little cantina, smelling of stale beer and tequila and mescal and tobacco smoke, but mostly of beer. He said, \"Marguerita.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, patr\u00f3n?_ \"\n\n\"I hope we are able to defeat the filibusters promptly. It would be unfortunate if Gabilondo arrived in time to take over. I want the credit for this victory to myself. It will make them look up to me in Hermosillo and in Ures. I will earn a promotion. No longer will they think of me as a ydung playboy using the sword as his toy. I do not play at being a soldier, Marguerita.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I am a good soldier. I shall prove it to them.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she said. He ignored the brittle calculated quality of her smile.\n\nThe _comisario_ came in wheezing. \"Is it true? Are they advancing on us, the filibusters?\"\n\n\"Of course it is true,\" Rodriguez said, looking on the man with cool contempt.\n\nThe _comisario_ looked flabbergasted. \"And yet you sit here sipping beer and entertaining this whore?\"\n\n\"She needs no entertainment,\" Rodriguez said imperturbably. \"On the contrary, good _comisario_ , she entertains me, you see.\" He smiled.\n\n\"Fool,\" shouted the _comisario_. \"Do something!\"\n\n\"What would you have me do?\"\n\nThe _comisario_ pounded his fist into his palm. His cheeks seemed about to explode. It was quite comical, Rodriguez-thought. The _comisario_ was just like an actor out of the opera at Hermosillo, playing a comic part. Rodriguez slipped his fingers along the soft round heaviness of the woman's arm and said, \"Perhaps you would have me go out on the plaza and make great speeches to my men, telling them how it is their patriotic duty to fight and die for their country. Is that it, _comisario?_ \"\n\nThe _comisario_ seemed to be purpling. Rodriguez chuckled. \"Calm yourself,\" he said. \"Go home and lock your door.\"\n\nThe _comisario_ looked away and wrung his hands and slowly shuffled away. Rodriguez laughed. He squeezed the _puta's_ arm and drank the last of his beer and said to her, \"I shall return presently, Marguerita,\" and left the cantina.\n\nSunlight made him squint. Lieutenant Corella, who was a stocky man from the mines of the Arizpe district and currently Rodriguez's second-in-command, trotted across the square on his horse and saluted lazily. \"They are still six miles out,\" he said. \"There is no cover out there to surround them from. When they come a couple of miles closer, perhaps we can set up an ambuscade in the thickets.\"\n\n\"I will think on it,\" Rodriguez said. \"Put your horse up. Whatever we do, it will be an infantry operation. We haven't enough horses to mount the men.\"\n\nCorella saluted again and went away. Rodriguez looked around. All seemed satisfactory. Armed men were posted all along the plaza\u2014in doorways, in windows, on roofs, at corners. Rodriguez smiled, knowing that his smile of confidence would give them heart. Throwing his chest out, he took a deep breath and patted the revolver at his side. He decided to set up an ambush where the road came up to the outskirts of town, between two wheat fields.\n\nDuring the brief rest halt, Crabb spoke to the men. Charley sat on a rock and listened. Crabb was talking of the provisions to be had in Caborca and of the prospects of soon meeting up with General Cosby's army somewhere on the river below. The men listened with polite interest. The fiery spirit that had blazed in them on the night of Crabb's speech at Sonoyta was reduced by now to an ill-fed flicker; once again they were footsore and weary and resentful of the unfriendly treatment they had been accorded at the hands of the few Mexicans they had met along the way. Charley sensed a feeling of uncertainty that grew and growled among the men. They were here now; this was the promised land. But threats of violence lay around them in the barren open stretches of the land and in the uncompromising hatred they met everywhere in the faces of Mexican people. Gringo travelers had instilled in them that hostility; it had not been uncommon for Americans, traveling through this country on their way west, to raid farms, rape daughters, steal, and burn.\n\nAll around, at varying distances, lifted round ridges and barren mountains. Vegetation here was only slightly more rich than it had been in the border country to the north. Creosote remained the principal ground-cover; the soil was still tan and powdery. But ahead of them to the left of a low hill was a dense pattern of dark green that marked the irrigated fields and tree-tops of Caborca town. Yucca stalks, maguey, ocotillo, manza-nita\u2014the various shrubs and strange cacti of the desert dotted everything in sight. Lizards and gophers were plentiful, the latter chiefly evident by the holes they left treacherously in the ground.\n\nJohn Edmonson said, when Crabb had finished his speech-making, \"I'd hoped for more than this.\"\n\nCharley nodded his agreement. It seemed a spare, poor place after all the promises they had heard. \"This isn't the mining country,\" Charley said. \"The mines are up in the mountains, I hear, where there's a lot of timber.\"\n\n\"Timber,\" Edmonson said. \"I'd like to see that. I wonder how far it is?\"\n\nNorval Douglas came trotting back from his advance position and stepped down to confer with Crabb. Then McCoun gave the order to form up, and they began to march forward. Douglas rode with Crabb and McCoun. Presently they came upon a dusty rutted road and turned toward town. The sun seemed particularly savage. In front of Charley walked Samuel Kimmel and Bill Randolph. Jim Woods was behind Charley and now and then Charley could hear the ex-saloonkeeper's caustic commentary on the country they passed through. \"Give me hell,\" Woods said drily. Up front on horseback, Captain McDowell's beard showed livid red when he turned to look back. Walls of palm trees closed down on the road and then, ahead, the trees stopped and the road traveled between two fields high with uncut wheat. Beyond that were the first buildings of the town's edge. Walking down this path between the orderly rows of palms, Charley was reminded of boyhood and shady lanes among the willows in the bayou country.\n\nThe front of the column left the palm-bordered area and moved up between the wheat fields, and in that instant a man in uniform stepped out of the wheat into the leaders' path and held up his hand. The man carried a carbine in his fist.\n\nThe column halted. Charley stood looking ahead with curiosity, craning his neck to look around Bill Randolph's big shape. The Mexican was talking insistently, gesturing emphatically with his hands. Crabb was shaking his head. Norval Douglas was with them, apparently-translating back and forth from English to Spanish. The Mexican waved threateningly with his rifle; in answer, Crabb drew his revolver and pointed it at the Mexican. Charley heard Edmonson voicing what was in everyone's mind: \"I wonder what the devil they're talking about.\"\n\n\"Looks like a Mex officer to me,\" someone said.\n\n\"Maybe they're afraid we're going to loot the town or something.\"\n\n\"That might not be too bad an idea,\" Jim Woods said. \"I've had just about enough of their sneers.\"\n\nAt that moment the Mexican drew back, evidently rebuffed by something Crabb had said; his back stiff, the Mexican turned toward the silent wheat fields and shouted what sounded like a command.\n\nThe sound of a single gunshot cut off the Mexican's shout directly in its middle. The Mexican collapsed on the ground. Crabb was standing over him; Crabb's gun was smoking. Charley stared at the form of the Mexican, crumpled and small in the road. \"Holy Jesus,\" someone muttered in an awed tone of voice. \"What the hell did he do that for?\"\n\nThen gunfire erupted from the wheat fields.\n\nUp front, men wheeled and broke in confusion. Charley saw Crabb running back toward the palms, McCoun at his heels. For a brief span of time, Norval Douglas and Captain McDowell held their ground, firing revolvers into the swaying stalks of wheat; then they too whirled back toward the protection of the thick-trunked palms. Stunned men stood frozen by the abruptness of it. Muzzle flashes bloomed from the wheat fields; as if from a distance, Charley heard the boom of musket shots. All around him men swung in turmoil. He snapped his jaw shut and made an awkward dive toward the side of the road, and rolled behind the cover of a tree trunk. The dive took the wind out of him. When he caught his breath he looked around him and saw that no one remained on the road.\n\nA swarm of men issued from the wheat fields on both sides of the road and ran forward shooting. In the confusion Charley was mainly aware of the rising stink of powdersmoke and the wild shouts of men and the improbable loudness of the massed gunfire. Then he realized that men all about him were shooting back. He groped for the rifle, swung it off his shoulder and yanked the big hammer back to full cock. He pointed it into the approaching mass of arms and legs and guns, and pulled the trigger.\n\nIt was inhumanly stupid, the way the Mexicans advanced in a tight-packed body along the twin ruts of the road. \"Stupid\u2014stupid\u2014stupid,\" the words kept echoing in his mind and he realized he was shouting aloud. Men to either side of him had settled down coolly, picking targets. Charley fumbled with the ramrod and then flung it down in disgust, picking up his revolver and firing six shots at the Mexicans, each shot on the heels of the last. He heard men cursing at the tops of their voices. Mexicans were dropping in unbelievable numbers; and in a very short time the cluster of men broke, weaved, and tumbled back. Stupidly, they did not get out of the road; they ran straight down the ruts. A few of them dived aside into the concealment of the wheat fields, but until they ran beyond rifle range there was a mass of targets for the gringos' percussion guns.\n\nA sudden stillness settled down. Something was hissing in his ears\u2014the ringing aftermath of gunfire. The town ahead was quiet. The body of the Mexican officer lay not far away where Crabb had shot him; beyond that on the road were the sprawled corpses of men. One of them was crawling very slowly toward the wheat fields. Charley saw Bill Randolph lift his gun and shoot that man. After that there were no more shots. The bodies in the road were riddled with bullets. Charley looked around and saw no dead men among the Americans; he did not even see any wounds.\n\nSomeone said, \"My God\u2014My God.\" It was old John Edmonson, lying behind a palm. His gun had not been fired.\n\nAcrid sulphur fumes filled Charley's nostrils. Mechanically, because he saw others doing it, he reloaded his rifle and revolver. There was the sound of retching somewhere behind him. He did not turn to look. Ahead, General Crabb stepped out into the road and lifted both arms over his head. \"Gather round me,\" he shouted.\n\nMen crawled out of the ditches and out from behind trees and walked warily down the road, eyes and guns trained on the wheat fields. Nothing stirred there; it was evident the Mexicans had broken and retreated to town. Charley got up and found his legs unsteady. He took an uncertain step forward and saw Edmonson still lying behind the tree, not moving, staring at the earth under his face. Charley walked to him and stooped. \"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"I don't think so.\" Edmonson checked himself over. Then he shook his head. His face had a numb, dull look. \"No,\" he said. \"I'm all right.\"\n\n\"Come on, then.\" Charley took his arm and helped him get up. Edmonson shook his head as if to clear it. Charley said, \"Pick up your rifle.\"\n\n\"My rifle.\" Edmonson stood dumbly. Charley reached down and gathered up the gun and handed it to Edmonson, who looked at it. Presently he slung it over his shoulder and presented a shaking smile. \"Come on,\" Charley said, and led him forward.\n\nMen stood around in tight ranks, all of them listening to Crabb. \"They attacked us without warning,\" Crabb was saying. \"We have the right to carry the fight to them, and by God we will. I intend to take this town. Does anyone object?\"\n\nVery possibly, Charley thought, it was Crabb's shortest speech. He put down the impulse to giggle. A muttering roar like something from an animal's throat grew in the crowd. Charley felt weak in the ankles. They began to move forward, spreading out along the sides of the road. McDowell and Holliday came back giving orders to the horse-holders. McDowell looked like a Biblical prophet; the long jaw of his red beard moved energetically when he talked. He said, \"Keep to cover and watch for snipers,\" and, \"Keep those horses in the rear.\" Holliday was drawling in a more relaxed way: \"Keep your Goddamn guns loaded.\" Keep this and keep that\u2014Charley moved in a daze of confusion. Up the road beyond the wheat fields he could see the walls of small farm plots that bordered the road. Men seemed to be dodging around behind those walls. All the officers' horses went to the rear and men moved forward on the edges of the road until a sporadic musketry began from the adobe walls and the officers got down on one knee to return the fire. Charley had a clear picture of Norval Douglas calmly firing his revolver at slow intervals toward the walls that closed down on the road ahead. It was all very impersonal; targets were seldom visible and did not seem to relate to humanity. Shadow-figures, seen only briefly, fell back from the walls and he saw Crabb marching briskly forward down the road, followed by the officers. The column picked up speed and Charley found himself walking at a good pace, as if they were out alone in the desert marching toward a water hole.\n\nThe column halted between the adobe walls. Several men vaulted over them and there were a few gunshots. Then the officers came down the line singling out men. McDowell stopped in front of Charley and said, \"You handled that gun well back there, Evans,\" and Charley wondered when the captain had got time to notice. McDowell said, \"You'll go with me around to the left. We'll cut through town around from the east side and meet the others on the square. You too, Randolph.\"\n\nAfter that, in company with half a dozen others, Charley followed the red-bearded captain past the end of the adobe wall and, cautiously, around a building corner. They skirted the edge of town, making a quarter-circle around it, and met no resistance, though Charley kept his rifle cocked and jumped several times when he saw what appeared to be movements in the shadows. They passed slot-windowed adobes one by one; each time McDowell would kick the door open and lunge inside, and each time the building would prove to be empty. McDowell said, \"They were ready for us. They're all probably forted up in the middle of town.\"\n\nCharley swept the rooftops and inspected shadows until his eyes began to ache. A slight tremor had invaded his hands and he was afraid that even if he did shoot at something, he would probably miss. He kept having the vision of the crowd of Mexicans coming down the road to avenge their gunshot leader\u2014a mass of bodies and eyes, arms and legs into which he had poured his ammunition. He did not know whether he had hit anyone, but had the feeling he must have. It was strange, he thought, that he felt no particular reaction\u2014unless he were to count the trembling.\n\n\"Look out, now,\" McDowell said. They were slipping along the side wall of a 'dobe. McDowell flattened himself against the end of the wall and poked his head around for a look down the street. Then he gestured with his free hand and went around out of sight.\n\nBill Randolph followed him; Charley was right behind Bill. The three of them stopped at the head of the street. From here they could see part of the plaza, two blocks distant. The twin domes of the church lifted above the rooftops of squat yellow-gray buildings. Bill's tongue came out and moistened his lips. His head was defiantly set back on his thick Prussian neck. The three other men came around the corner and stood with them. The street appeared deserted\u2014dry, sunlit, dusty. Quite crisp and loud was the sound of Bill's rifle-hammer drawing back to full cock. There was sweat on Charley's palms and he rubbed them, one at a time, against the coarse grain of his trousers. His hat felt tight and he pushed it back an inch. From some other part of town came the rapid chatter of gunfire. It lasted only a short while. \"Come on,\" McDowell said. \"Stay close to the buildings.\"\n\nBill Randolph and two of the others trotted across the head of the street and started down the opposite side. Charley got up on the sidewalk behind McDowell. They walked forward putting one boot in front of the other. Once Charley thought he saw a man's hatbrim outlined above a roof across the street, but when he turned it was gone. A few more shots went off in another part of town. He wondered where everyone had gone. Had they deserted the town in the face of the gringo riflemen? It didn't seem likely.\n\nA Mexican in a wide sombrero with crossed belts running from shoulder to waist came in a rush from a doorway a block down the street, shouting in Spanish. He had a musket and he lifted it. Charley thought it was aimed right at him. He tried to bring his gun around, but it swung with ponderous slowness. A single shot crashed against his ears and the Mexican spun half-around, dropped his gun, and wheeled back into the doorway from which he had come. McDowell stopped to reload his rifle. \"We'll have to go in after that one,\" he said. \"He'll probably have a knife.\"\n\nBut then the Mexican leaped out of the doorway again. Somewhere he had armed himself with a huge flintlock horse pistol, over which he leaned. It was a strange sight\u2014the man standing in the middle of the street bent over a pistol, trying to get it cocked. Charley heard a roar of laughter and saw Bill Randolph take a casual aim and shoot. The Mexican's feet slipped out from under him and he fell in an ungainly sprawl. The pistol flipped away from him. He raised his head and stared at it. Standing where he was, Bill Randolph calmly reloaded and took aim again, but then the Mexican's face turned and dropped into the dirt, and Bill did not fire. \"Jesus Christ,\" Charley heard McDowell mutter. \"What a Goddamn mess.\" They went foot by foot downstreet toward the edge of the plaza. At every window they stopped to reconnoiter; at every door they stopped and pushed inside, guns ready. Every place seemed deserted. Furniture stood empty. In a window across the street, behind Bill and his men, a Mexican appeared with a shotgun. Charley's breath hung up in his chest. The shotgun muzzle lifted and Charley turned his gun on that man and fired. He had not aimed his shot; he had only pointed and pulled the trigger. But the Mexican sagged across the sill and dropped his shotgun. Charley swallowed. The Mexican did not move at all. Still, he was far enough away to remain an impersonal target. Charley had yet to see death close up.\n\n\"Reload,\" McDowell told him, and went on down the street.\nCHAPTER 20\n\n\"God damn it,\" said Jim Woods, \"I knew there was something crazy. It's April Fool's Day!\"\n\nA rattle of laughter went around the big room. Crabb's voice cut across it sharply: \"Watch your posts.\"\n\nMen crouched with their rifles laid across windowsills. The massive front door was barred with a heavy timber. In a back bedroom two wounded men lay on luxurious beds. Furniture had been pushed aside in the big parlor; supplies were stacked in the center of the room. Periodically a shot came from the church across the square where the Mexican troops had fortified themselves. In the front windows, Bill Randolph and Norval Douglas and five other men answered the fire. The smell and taste of powdersmoke was powerful and bitter. Charley sat in a front corner pressing the bandage that covered a bullet-burn on his left arm. Around him men cursed and fretted. He felt detached and cool and slightly lightheaded. The events of the last hour were a blur in his mind\u2014battling armies surging back and forth across the square; a line of men driving the Mexicans into the walls of the church while behind them another line of men feverishly unloaded the pack animals and rushed the supplies into this thick-walled mansion opposite the church. He had only a vague idea of what had happened; he did not understand how they had achieved the sanctuary of this fortress-like house and in the doing of it only suffered two minor casualties and a few bullet scratches like his own. Across the room a small group of men was laughing and spraying obscenities, talking contemptuously of Mexican marksmanship. The Mexicans had been scared; but Charley did not laugh at them. He knew how they felt. He remembered the women, the children, the old men spilling back from invaded homes, driven back from all sides and trapped in the open plaza, fired at from the streets and falling back into the convent beside the old church. Horses rearing and screaming. Men cutting the packsaddle cinches and dragging the loaded saddles back into the big house. A line of men crouched down and squinting across their sights. The Mexican troops, confused and leaderless, backing into the church. A stocky Mexican officer who looked more like a miner than a soldier, finally taking charge and laying siege to the Americans who had gathered in this great sprawling house which must have belonged to the wealthiest citizen of Caborca.\n\nOld John Edmonson came over and stooped over him, looming in the strange shadows. \"Do you want a drink?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nEdmonson went away and presently returned with a canteen. Charley swallowed the tepid water. \"What's going on?\" he said.\n\n\"The Mexicans have moved back in the church. Some of them are up in the towers shooting at us. A few of them tried to run for the next buildings.\"\n\nTried. Charley looked at the blank casual expression on the old man's face. What had the last hour done to him? Edmon-son carried his revolver in his fist. Charley got up and handed the canteen back and went to the window nearest him. Norval Douglas looked up and said mildly, \"Keep your head back, Charley.\"\n\n\"If I do that I can't see anything.\"\n\n\"What do you want to see? A bullet?\"\n\n\"All right.\" He turned back to his corner. Across the room Crabb was in conference with his officers. They seemed to be arguing. A bullet poked a small hole in the back wall; it must have come through one of the windows. Edmonson sat down beside him; his look had turned sour. He said, \"How old are you, Charley? Fifteen? Sixteen? You don't belong here.\"\n\n\"Nobody belongs here.\"\n\n\"I suppose not.\" Douglas fired and the shot was deafening. Edmonson said, \"This is ridiculous. We're not savages.\"\n\n\"Aren't we?\"\n\n\"I hope to God we're not. What's the point of all this? Charley, what in God's name are we doing here?\"\n\nHis voice had risen. Men were looking at him. Edmonson trailed off and turned his face into the shadows. His plea rang in Charley's ears. Charley felt very calm next to him. He put his hand on the old man's arm. Edmonson looked up, perhaps with gratitude, and got up stiffly to leave. He was muttering when he walked away.\n\nThe man at the second window cried out and rolled back from his post. A bullet had seared the top of his shoulder. Charley crawled forward and took that man's place; the injured man went back with two others attending him.\n\nThrough the window Charley could see the front of the church. It was a tall two-domed structure. He dragged his rifle up and laid it across the sill, and sat looking out the corner of the opening. He laid his ammunition out beside him on the floor. A bird flew across the square and some fool shot at it, missing it, and McDowell's voice bawled, \"Cut that out!\" Charley couldn't see anyone inside the dark windows of the church, but a shot plunked into the wall of the house and he saw a drift of muzzle smoke. Two others fired on it before he cocked his rifle.\n\n\"Charley.\"\n\nIt was Bill Randolph, beside him at the next window. Charley said, \"What?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" Bill said. When his gun went off it startled Charley. Bill pulled the gun in and began to pour powder down the barrel. He said, \"On April eighteenth of 'Forty-seven, I fought under Lieutenant Tom Sweeny at the battle of Cerro Gordo. This ain't the first time I've shot at Mexicans, by God. In August that year I was at Churubusco.\" Bill carried his battle flags with pride. \"I accounted for sixteen greasers at Cerro Gordo,\" he said. \"I didn't count at Churubusco. Ain't none of them can fight worth a damn. I think we ought to bust out of here and pull that Goddamn church down around their ears. Don't know what we're waiting for.\"\n\nCharley did not know either. Across the room Crabb and the officers were still arguing. The Mexicans fired four or five shots from the church. Charley shot back and reloaded and shot again.\n\nMcDowell hunkered on his haunches, glowering at the floor in the center of the little circle of officers. Crabb's indecision so irritated him that he wanted very much to wring the man's neck. On the one hand Crabb was listening to McCoun, who wanted to retreat immediately to the border and give up the whole project. On the other hand he was listening to Holliday, who thought they ought to abandon Caborca and head downstream along the Rio Concepcion to meet Cosby's troops, which by now must be on their way upriver not far away. McDowell's own feeling was that they should storm the church and rout the Mexicans. They had only an inexperienced lieutenant to lead them now that the captain, Rodriguez, was dead on the road between the wheat fields, and the lieutenant obviously had no imagination, since he had done nothing but fort his men up and shoot petulantly across the square. And Crabb was also listening to Colonel Johns, who thought it might be a good idea to wait here for Cosby's army, meanwhile hoping a higher-ranking Mexican officer might arrive and indicate the real intentions of Pesquiera's government. The soldiers in the church were apparently local militia, and had perhaps reacted out of suspicion and unknowing fear. It was not possible to be certain they accurately reflected Pesquiera's own frame of mind.\n\nCrabb sat and talked, and talked. He had an irritating way of going off the subject, and then of returning to it and methodically listing all the advantages and disadvantages of each alternative plan. McDowell had to put down the impulse to shout at him.\n\nFor a while Crabb quieted down. McDowell looked bleakly at Lieutenant Will Allen, who answered his look with a dour downturn of his lips. Finally Crabb shook his head, tugged his beard, and said, \"Gentlemen, we did not anticipate a reception anything like what happened this morning. I am certain that today's violence was caused by the blundering inexperience of the local officers. I do not believe this hostility represents the feelings of the government. After all, we have a written agreement with Pesquiera, and I have always regarded him as a man of his word. But in spite of that, we are faced with a situation that is patently military in nature. Frankly, I suggest under the circumstances that we allow the military minds to guide our actions. Captain McDowell, what is the West Point answer to our predicament?\"\n\n\"Attack,\" McDowell said immediately.\n\n\"I tend to agree,\" Crabb said. McDowell looked at him. Every once in a while the general surprised him. Crabb said, \"After all, no matter what the larger picture may be, we have been attacked belligerently and besieged. We are certainly within our rights to retaliate.\"\n\n\"I don't like it,\" McCoun said flatly. \"Men are bound to get hurt, perhaps killed\u2014no, I'll make that stronger: they are bound to get killed.\" McCoun always talked like the captain of a debating team. No set of circumstances seemed adequate to shake him. He said, \"Obviously Mexico is hostile to us. Obviously Pesquiera does not intend to keep his bargain. We have nothing to gain by staying here, except perhaps the satisfaction of stubborn pride. It's folly to do anything but retreat; it's more than folly to attack\u2014it is criminal negligence.\"\n\n\"You are free to voice your opinion,\" Crabb said coolly. \"I for one do not intend to let these people get away with the affront they have presented to us.\"\n\n\"Oh, God,\" McCoun said softly. McDowell glared at him.\n\n\"We are considered enemies here,\" Crabb said. \"None of us can doubt that. We must act accordingly.\" He stood up and walked to the center of the room, by the piled supplies. He said, \"I want your attention.\"\n\nMen turned to face him, all but those who guarded the windows. Crabb said, \"The natives here have seen fit to treat us with malice and violence. They must be taught that this is not acceptable conduct. I propose to lead an attack against the troops in the church. We will charge the convent and gain entrance through that side of the building. I now call for volunteers.\"\n\nMen looked at one another. McDowell shouldered his rifle and stepped forward, looking around the room with measured contempt. Norval Douglas came away from his post and stood beside him. Jim Woods came up. William Chaney, Clark Small. Bill Randolph came over. Lieutenant Will Allen walked across the room to stand by McDowell. McDowell looked at them one by one. Randolph\u2014that one would go anywhere to find violence. Allen, a good soldier. Chaney\u2014a Nevadan with cool gray eyes and a crippled shoulder. Woods\u2014an ex-saloonkeeper with leather skin and a sure grip on his gun. Clark Small, a nondescript man with a nondescript expression. Norval Douglas\u2014tough and proud. Others came over, some of them reluctantly. He had a glimpse of the boy, Charley Evans, posted by a window with his rifle, looking at Norval Douglas in a strange, uncertain way; but the boy did not move.\n\n\"Is this all?\" Crabb said.\n\n\"I count fifteen of us,\" McDowell said. \"It should be enough.\"\n\n\"All right. Come on,\" Crabb said.\n\nMcDowell pointed to Bill Randolph. \"You\u2014bring one of those powder kegs and a slow-match fuse.\" Then he turned and followed Crabb to the door.\n\nCrabb was businesslike. He took out his revolver and inspected its load, then said, \"Give me a hand here,\" and helped lift down the heavy timber that barred the door. It was a massive wooden door; musket balls would not penetrate it. Crabb looked around. \"Is everyone ready?\"\n\n\"All set,\" McDowell said. Just before he flung the door open, he had a swift contemptuous look around the room at the fifty-odd men who had not volunteered. They sat packed along the side walls, crouched behind the supply piles, crowded into doorways. He said to the men at the windows, \"Lay down a heavy fire against the church to keep their heads down until we're across the plaza.\" Men came forward out of the shadows and crowded against the windows, some of them looking half-shamefaced but aiming steadily enough through the openings. McDowell said, \"Keep your eyes open,\" and pulled the door open.\n\nA flurry of shots issued from the windows of the long, low-roofed house. McDowell plunged through the doorway, broke out into the sunlight and ran with legs pumping toward the convent. He saw no one in the church windows; the heavy fire had driven the Mexicans back. It was a long run. He slammed up against the convent wall, his back to it and his chest heaving. Crabb and Allen and Randolph were close on his heels; the others were strung out across the square. He whirled and made a low dive through an open window. A woman screamed; there was a succession of gunshots loud in his ears. He saw a Mexican soldier looming with a big-bore musket, and shot the man down point-blank. Someone came in through the window behind him and knocked him down. Women and loud little children were squeezing in panic through a back door. A nun in black stood calmly by the wall, her arms folded. Bill Randolph was standing with his feet spread, leaning forward, pumping shots out of his revolver. McDowell scrambled to his feet, drawing his pistol. A soldier swung through the church door to investigate, wheeled back and pushed the door shut. McDowell ran to it but the door was barred. He heard crashing noises beyond the door\u2014the Mexicans were barricading it with furniture. A little girl ran past him, crying. The nun stooped and picked up the child and carried her outside through the back door. Crabb and Will Allen had crossed the room to guard that door. Bill Randolph was trying to hold onto the powder keg and reload his pistol at the same time. A group of soldiers plunged in through the back door, forcing Crabb and Allen back, firing savagely. McDowell emptied his gun into them and felt his body lurch and buck. The Mexicans retreated and Jim Woods sprang forward to shut the door, but just as he reached it a bullet caught him in the throat and he pitched outward through the doorway. One of the men dragged him back and slammed the door and barred it. When McDowell looked down he saw that his right arm was bleeding profusely; later when he counted the wounds he found that he had been hit nine times in that arm. Most of the wounds were superficial; one bullet had sliced through a muscle and he could not move the arm. He shifted the revolver to his left hand and grimly tried to reload.\n\nSmoke settled down in the convent. Small and Chaney and two others were making a rapid investigation of the rooms. They flushed two children and four nuns and drove them out of the place. Crabb was talking: \"Randolph\u2014set that powder keg by the door to the church.\"\n\nCrabb came across to that door and used a knife to poke a hole in the keg. He inserted the slow-match and tried to ignite it, but by some curious twist of fate it was wet with blood and would not light. Crabb sat down and wrote a note on a leaf of his notebook. Clark Small and Norval Douglas came out of a corridor with a small boy they had caught hiding somewhere. Crabb waved them over to him and said to Douglas, \"Tell the boy to take this note across the square. I'm asking them to send back another slow-match fuse for the powder.\"\n\n\"He may not go,\" Douglas said.\n\nCrabb spoke in the same businesslike tone: \"Tell him he'll be shot if he doesn't obey. Tell him to bring back the fuse as quickly as he can.\"\n\nDouglas relayed the instructions to the boy in Spanish. The boy looked around helplessly with the wild glance of a trapped animal; he took the note and waited by the front door until Douglas opened it for him, and then bolted across the square. Watching all this, McDowell had sunk down with his back against a wall. Waves of weakness came upon him. He looked across the room at Jim Woods, but Woods was dead. Norval Douglas crouched down beside McDowell and ripped off his shirt and made a bandage for the wounded arm. McDowell said weakly, \"Thanks.\"\n\nThere was a rending sound in the back of the room. The Mexicans were breaking down the door. Crabb and Douglas wheeled to face that attack and then the splintering door crashed downward, falling on top of Jim Woods's body. Troops rushed in, trampling the door. McDowell grimaced, lay still, and pointed his freshly loaded revolver at the charging Mexicans. They spilled into the room like an overflowing stream of water. Will Allen spun back, wounded somewhere, and fell to the floor. When McDowell lost sight of him in the tangle, Allen was crawling toward the front door.\n\nThe Mexicans were shouting like Indians. Powdersmoke made a heavy fog in the room. A small wooden cross was smashed by a bullet and tumbled off its hook on the wall, glancing off McDowell's shoulder. He took aim on a shouting open mouth and fired. The mouth disappeared.\n\nWilliam Chaney, the gray-eyed Nevadan, plunged into the fight with knife and fist, having exhausted his ammunition. Norval Douglas was braced against the wall wielding his reversed rifle like a club, batting Mexicans away with great sweeps. Chaney went down under half a dozen men and died with a knife in his chest. The front door came open, admitting a band of light, and McDowell saw the wounded Allen tumble out through the opening. Crabb, his gun empty, sat down deliberately at the church door and proceeded to reload. McDowell saw a man taking aim on Crabb, and he brought his gun around, but not before the Mexican fired. Crabb took the bullet in his right elbow. McDowell shot the Mexican. Clark Small wheeled and screamed and fell over, his head almost severed from his body by a sword thrust. McDowell glimpsed big Bill Randolph, shouting with huge oaths, wading through the crowd and batting heads together. A dead Mexican fell across McDowell's legs. He grunted and crawled away toward the front door. Crabb was coming that way, backing up slowly, firing at the Mexicans. Individuals were lost in the slurred outlines of the fight. Noise and stench and carnage filled McDowell's senses. Bill Randolph and Norval Douglas stood back to back fighting off attackers. A gun went off and Randolph sagged at the waist; McDowell knew he was dead by the way he fell.\n\nA young Mexican soldier loomed before McDowell. Fear was a glaze on the youth's eyes; his mouth hung open, dragging in air, and a gun hung empty in his hand. McDowell killed the youth with his last shot, and backed out through the doorway. Crabb and Douglas were with him. They picked up Will Allen. Other Americans, pitifully few in number, spun onto the square, coming out through windows and the door. McDowell turned and walked on wavering legs toward the house. The men in the windows there kept up a savage fire, pinning the Mexicans down, preventing pursuit. Crabb and McDowell, with one good arm each, carried Will Allen between them. Guns roared. McDowell looked dismally at Crabb, who had surprised him by his cool display of courage under fire. When they re-entered the big house, someone barred the door behind them. McDowell released Allen to abler hands, and sank slowly to the floor in great weariness. His arm throbbed and he felt an overpowering hunger.\nCHAPTER 21\n\nThe last thing Charley recalled about Jim Woods was the good-humored remark Woods had made about it being April Fool's Day. He looked out through the window; in the night he could see the outline of the church. The Mexicans had stopped shooting, either because their ammunition was running low, or because they knew that in the dark their muzzle-flashes gave away their locations to American riflemen who were quick to shoot back. And so a cool and threatening truce had settled down. It was past midnight, and Charley's eyes ached. His shift would last another hour before someone would relieve him.\n\nHe remembered standing in front of Jim Woods's saloon on a cool rainy morning, just before he had met Norval Douglas. He found himself wanting to know, with a savage desire, what trick of fate it was that had brought such men to this place far from home and killed them without purpose. None of it was fair. He remembered that rainy morning's conversation with Woods; it had been months ago; the words and the voice tones came back to him.\n\n_All packed.... Going somewhere, Charley?_\n\n_Back East_.\n\n_You're doing the Triple Ace out of a chore boy, then_.\n\n_They'll find another one_.\n\n_I reckon.... Funny-looking moon, all by itself. Tired of the job, Charley?_\n\n_You might say_.\n\n_Got money for the trip?_\n\n_I'll work my passage_.\n\n_That's a hard row_.... _Good luck to you, then, Charley_.\n\nWell, then, he thought, why hadn't he gone back East? What had changed him? Was the future so unimportant that he had just let himself drift into this little unknown war?\n\nNorval Douglas was at his shoulder. Douglas moved without sound, so that he had a way of startling Charley with his sudden appearances. Douglas said quietly, \"Trying to get it figured out, kid?\"\n\n\"Maybe so.\"\n\n\"Maybe you won't, right away. A lot of things don't make sense. It's Jim Woods and Bill, isn't it?\"\n\n\"How'd you know?\"\n\n\"It's easy enough to see when a man's thinking. You can learn a lesson from those two.\"\n\n\"What lesson?\" Charley asked.\n\n\"Bill was a failure. Jim wasn't; he made something out of his life before he died. But he slowed down. The taste went out of life for him. That's why he gave up his business and came along with us. Even if he hadn't been killed, he wouldn't have found anything here that he couldn't have had at home.\"\n\n\"Then what's the point of it?\"\n\n\"It doesn't make much difference, does it? He had to die somewhere.\"\n\nBrief anger stirred Charley's lips. \"That's all it ever amounts to, isn't it?\"\n\n\"You don't matter after you're dead,\" Douglas said. \"After you die it's not up to you any more. That's why you've got to make sure you get things done beforehand.\"\n\n\"Aagh,\" Charley said in disgust. \"What if I die tonight?\"\n\n\"You won't,\" Douglas told him. \"You haven't made your mark yet.\"\n\n\"You've got a lot of faith,\" Charley said, surprised.\n\n\"Well, maybe I do. Faith in myself, faith in you a little.\"\n\n\"And faith that a bullet won't cut me down in the next minute or two.\"\n\n\"There's been enough killing for one day,\" Douglas said. \"Get some rest. I'll watch here for you.\"\n\nCharley was tired enough not to protest. He went back through the house, past the rooms where the wounded men were abed, and felt his way to a vacant spot on the corridor floor. He lay down with his rifle and canteen at hand. A small flame sputtered nearby and he saw the youth, Carl Chapin, putting a light on the tip of a brown-paper cigarette. Chapin's eyes reflected the little flame frostily. His expression was unfathomable. Charley remembered seeing him at one of the windows during the convent fight, firing savagely at the Mexicans, his lips drawn back in a strange, distorted smile. It made Charley recall the fact that Chapin had once refused to shoot at a jack-rabbit.\n\nThe red button of the cigarette tip alternately glowed and dimmed in the corridor. Presently it went out in a crush of sparks. Charley put his head back. The floor was hard, he thought; he came awake and it was daylight.\n\nThe entire day passed with little more than a peevish exchange of shots. When Charley took his turn at a front window, Crabb and some of the others were in conference; they seemed to have been there all day. McDowell's arm was bandaged from wrist to shoulder, but he was on his feet. Crabb had his own right arm in a sling. Guards were posted at close intervals all the way around the house. Dr. Oxley puttered around the wounded men. Charley spent part of the afternoon dozing in the courtyard, which struck him as an incongruous dark garden; a group of men played cards in the shade of a tree.\n\nDuring the night a small party slipped out past the corrals to get water from the well. There was a volley of shots, but the men returned with water buckets full, unharmed. A man named Seaton was killed by a random gunshot from the church. Charley stood guard in the early morning hours. His thoughts kept drifting and for an hour he fought out with himself whether he should have volunteered to join the attack on the convent. Nothing made sense.\n\nOn the third day a small detachment of Mexican regulars rode in from the south, bringing two small cannon which they set up behind the church. The cannon were not powerful; the general effect of them was noise and a few dents in the front of the house. One ball came through a window, spent, and rolled across the floor; Captain McDowell picked it up in his good hand and tossed it to Norval Douglas. \"Feel how hot the damned thing is.\"\n\nThere seemed to be no place closer to the house where the Mexicans were willing to set up their artillery; they probably could not have done so without exposing the cannoneers to American rifle fire. At any rate the cannon stayed where they were and after a short while the Mexicans stopped using up ammunition in them. Nonetheless the rumor trickled around, reaching Charley in midafternoon, that Crabb was worried by the arrival of the regulars, because he had hoped they would lift the siege under Pesquiera's order. Charley learned that evening that some of the officers\u2014Johns and McCoun in particular\u2014wanted to retreat to the border. Crabb, McDowell, Oxley, and a few others were fighting this idea. Charley formed no opinion of his own; he stayed largely by himself.\n\nBy the end of the fourth day, the fourth of April, tempers were plainly raw. The men were hungry and word circulated that some of them were willing to overthrow Crabb and let McDowell take over the company and lead a massed attack on the church. To forestall that kind of hasty action, Crabb promised a decision by the following morning. That evening a man called John George was picked off by a Mexican rifleman who had climbed to the roof of a building down the square. George died within a half hour; a small party under Norval Douglas drove the sniper back. After supper the news reached Charley that Lieutenant Will Allen had died in bed of wounds suffered at the battle in the convent. Later on at night, helping to dig graves in the courtyard, he wondered at his own indifference to the deaths around him.\n\nOn the morning of April 5, a man whose name Charley did not know deserted. Charley spotted him crawling out between the corral bars with a white piece of cloth affixed to a stick. The man walked nervously across to the church, looking behind him at every few steps. \"The son of a bitch,\" someone said. The deserter was taken into the church. Ten minutes later a single shot boomed within that structure.\n\nCrabb's promised decision was a thick measure of suspense hanging in the air when at nine o'clock a large body of horsemen entered town from the southwest. A large cry went up among the Mexicans and beyond the church, two blocks down a street, a crowd of women boiled out of shelter to welcome the newcomers. Charley heard the shouts: \" _Viva M\u00e9xico! Viva Gabi-londo!_ \" The soldiers dismounted and several men ran from the back of the church through the alleys of town to meet the arrivals. Crabb's face had turned worried, then showed a visble relief. Charley kept his post. Men around him were talking excitedly; the prospect of rescue was in the air; but nothing seemed to happen until, almost at noon, a ragged volley of shots issued from the church. At the time, Charley was watching the discussion among the officers, and on the heels of the shots he saw Crabb's face fall. A man in the belfry of the church was hoisting a Mexican flag, and someone shot him down. A stillness settled over the house and Crabb's voice, quiet and calm, was distinctly audible: \"I'm afraid that's it.\"\n\nEvery time he rode horseback, Giron was reminded by the loose bouncing of his paunch of the many bottles of beer he had consumed; a thing which he regretted but did not resolve to change. He stood on the porch of the house they had commandeered, rubbing his hand against his belly, and thought, _Lorenzo Rodriguez is dead. Well, he was not a very good soldier_.\n\nA young lieutenant came quartering across the street and saluted him, reporting: \"We have the Americans surrounded, sir.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Giron murmured. \"Hold your positions, Lieutenant.\" He returned the man's salute and went into the house.\n\nGabilondo had Corella on the carpet. Corella was the stocky ex-miner who had been Lorenzo Rodriguez' lieutenant. He and Gabilondo were of a build and of a size; but Corella's chin was round, not square, and his eyes did not have the flash or intolerance of Gabilondo's.\n\nGabilondo sat hip-cocked on the edge of a handsomely carved dining table, softly pounding a silver candlestick into his open palm. Lieutenant Corella stood before him at a stiff position of attention; though he was motionless, he seemed to be cringing. Gabilondo was talking, his voice a rasp, when Giron came in.\n\n\"Lieutenant, I regard you as a fool and a coward. For five days you have maintained contact with the gringos. You have had them outnumbered by a margin of seven or eight to one. You have had the advantage of two light cannon and superior firepower and manpower, and superior mobility. And yet what have you done? Nothing. You have retreated into the comforting shelter of the mission-church and plinked occasionally at the gringos. Lieutenant, listen to me!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Did you ever once mount an attack against the gringos?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"I had no orders, General.\"\n\n\"In the name of God! Does everything have to be spelled out? Did they not invade our country, shoot down your commanding officer in cold blood, and kill a score of your troops?\"\n\n\"They did.\"\n\n\"Then why did you not fight back, Lieutenant?\"\n\nCorella's chin trembled. \"The men\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes? Yes? Go on, Lieutenant. The men.\"\n\n\"The men were afraid, General.\"\n\n\"Of what? Of a little crowd of gringos whom they outnumbered vastly?\"\n\n\"Of the Americano rifles. They are much more accurate than our muskets. And the riflemen are expert, General. We have lost half a dozen men to their sniping. The men fear their marksmanship.\"\n\n\"Fool!\" Gabilondo shouted. \"Coward! You shall pay for this, all of you. I promise it. Now get out of here\u2014out of my sight.\"\n\nCorella saluted and went. Gabilondo cursed and slammed the silver candlestick into his hand. \"Old women,\" he said. \"It is all the fault of Lorenzo Rodriguez. If he had trained his men properly in the first place it might have stiffened their backbones a little. God, I'm sick of cowards and weary of fools. Giron, we must put an end to this matter of the filibusters.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_ ,\" said Giron. \"I had it in mind that we might offer surrender terms to them.\"\n\nThe candlestick paused in mid-strike and Gabilondo's eyes lifted. He said, after a moment or two, \"Just what terms did you have in mind to offer, Jos\u00e9?\"\n\n\"That is not up to me,\" Giron said immediately.\n\n\"There will be no terms,\" Gabilondo said flatly. \"We will attack the house, burn it down, and kill them. That is all. No terms.\"\n\n\"What?\" Giron said, taken aback.\n\nGabilondo showed a thin smile. \"My friend Jos\u00e9, you are an excellent soldier. I feel we are most fortunate to have you in our army. But in matters of statesmanship you are abysmally ignorant, amigo.\"\n\n\"What does that have to do with it? It is only common humanity to offer them the chance to surrender. It is the only honorable thing\u2014\"\n\n\"Honor is secondary,\" Gabilondo interrupted. \"We must think first of our country.\"\n\n\"What about our country?\"\n\nGabilondo set the candlestick down. In its place he took out his pistol and began to slap it against his palm. \"Whatever the present circumstances may be, we owe our first loyalty to Mexico. Is that not right?\"\n\n\"Of course. But\u2014\"\n\n\"Loyalty to Mexico,\" Gabilondo went on, \"is roughly the same as loyalty to our governor, is it not? If we do not honor our leader, we open the door once again to chaos, to revolution, to war and death. You agree?\"\n\n\"I suppose so. But what has this to do with\u2014\"\n\n\"Jos\u00e9\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed?_ \"\n\n\"You will have the kindness to let me finish.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed_.\"\n\n\"Let me present to you a picture of what will happen if we allow the filibusters to surrender. First, they will submit to arrest. Second, we will imprison them. Third, they will be brought to trial and prosecuted as enemies of the state, as invaders. True?\"\n\n\"I suppose so. What's wrong with that?\"\n\n\"Do you know what will happen if these men are permitted to stand in open court?\"\n\n\"They will attempt to defend themselves,\" Giron said. \"Unsuccessfully, of course. Then they will be jailed or executed as filibusters. But at least they will have been given a trial. What will we look like if we do not give them that opportunity?\"\n\n\"Perhaps we will not look good. But I put this to you, Jos\u00e9: what will we look like if we do bring them to trial?\"\n\n\"Honorable men,\" Giron answered.\n\n\"No. For I will tell you what will happen. Brought into court, Se\u00f1or Crabb will immediately produce the documents which seal his agreements with Pesquiera. The world will then see that Pesquiera has failed to live up to his bargain, has turned against his friends who aided him during his revolution, has shown himself to be an ingrate and a traitor who betrays his allies, and has unlawfully arrested and killed a number of citizens of a foreign power. After that it will not be long before the United States will protest, or perhaps even send troops. The people of Sonora will lose confidence in Pesquiera. They will turn against him. Pesquiera and you and I and all the others will be turned out and spat upon.\"\n\nGabilondo laid the pistol down beside his hip and took out a cigar from the humidor on the table. He offered it to Giron; Giron shook his head absently. Gabilondo bit off the end of the cigar and lighted it, and squinted against the smoke. He said quietly, \"And so you see, amigo, that we can not permit the filibusters to tell their story in court. They must be silenced.\"\n\nIt was very deep, very involved, very confusing. Giron was a soldier; he was a simple man. He did not like to be drawn into political decisions. He did not understand the implications of political acts. He did not like being put in a position where, no matter what he did, the results might be disastrous for someone. He felt trapped; but his honor forced him to say, \"I do not agree. I can not agree. It is honorable to kill on a battlefield. But to murder men who are in a helpless position\u2014that is a mortal sin, General. I can not agree to it.\"\n\nGabilondo studied him through half-shuttered eyes. He said softly, \"You know, Giron, you are a very valuable man. Not only are you a fine soldier, but you are a man of simple tastes and simple virtues. You are truly a man of the people, amigo. You are a mirror\u2014you reflect the wishes of the people. In your eyes I see all the feelings of the little dirty men and women who work the land. You have taught me something, Jos\u00e9, and I am grateful to you for it. It is never wise to go against the wishes of the people. One must always be aware of presenting events in a good light, or the people will rebel.\" He stood up, away from the table; he picked up his pistol and bounced it in his hand, and holstered it. \"Very well,\" he said, smiling gently. \"We shall give them their trial, amigo.\"\nCHAPTER 22\n\nCharley sat with his back to the wall, cradling the rifle between his knees. Crabb was standing by the diminished pile of supplies. The last dim rays of twilight swept across the plaza in swaying shadow. From the church the Mexicans fired occasionally, just often enough to keep the Americans irritated. Crabb talked in a low, level voice, displaying no emotion, none of the histrionic gusto that had marked his earlier speeches. He said:\n\n\"The matter is simple enough. This house is completely surrounded. We are outnumbered roughly by a factor of twenty to one. Hilario Gabilondo is here and has made it plain that Pesquiera has turned completely against us. Militarily, our position is hopeless. Gabilondo's truce-bearers have offered us terms of surrender. They are as follows:\n\n\"On surrendering, we will be taken to Altar, which is several miles up the river and a larger town than this. There we will be tried as prisoners of war. Gabilondo has several good physicians and has assured us that our wounded will be well attended to. No promises have been made but the implication is that, in view of the touchy nature of our agreements with Pesquiera, the trial will be held quietly and thereafter we will all be escorted under arms to the border, and released on American soil. The details of the surrender are that we will be required to leave the house one by one, leaving our arms behind, and go over to the Mexicans.\"\n\nHe paused, seeming to gather his breath. His head was down, beard against chest; his fingers absently toyed with a button on his vest. He went on: \"I might say that Pesquiera's treachery has been a terrible disappointment to me, and I daresay to all of us. I know that many of you had staked your hopes on the promised lands and mineral claims that were to be ours here in Mexico. Instead, men have died here. I offer all of you my profound apologies; I wish I could do more.\"\n\nHe looked up and slowly his gaze traveled around the room. \"We have been given till midnight to make up our minds whether we are to surrender. I ask you to think about it and make your answer known to me before that hour.\"\n\nHe nodded sadly and turned, and went out of the room. A dozen heated conversations sprang up immediately; knots of men formed and busy-talking men darted from one group to another. Charley sat still, looking obliquely through the window across the deserted square, turning pale in the wash of moonlight. A bittersweet, faraway expression came into his eyes. A man across the room stood alone praying over a tiny cross in his hands. Norval Douglas stood by a window, rifle in hand, his yellow eyes flickering even in the dimness of night. A shadow nearby was young Carl Chapin, sallow and hollow-eyed, a bandage around the calf of his leg. His lips worked nervously. John Edmonson, old and dried, stood coughing over his bent chest, a pistol hanging forgotten in his hand. The last five days had turned him into a fighter. Charley wondered what good it had done the man. Captain Bob Holliday was relaxing loose-jointed against the wall near Norval Douglas; Holliday looked unconcerned. McDowell was in the center of an angrily arguing group of men. He was holding his injured arm as if it pained him terribly. Charley looked down. He had scars on both hands, from a ricocheting bullet that had sprayed splinters into them. He rubbed his palms against his shirt.\n\nWhat appeared to be a giant shooting-star flared redly across the square, going overhead in a rush of flame. At his post, Norval Douglas wheeled, \"Fire arrow,\" he shouted. There was a crackle from the roof and when he looked up, Charley saw flames expanding on the thatch roof. Smoke curled downward. Crabb came striding into the room. Fifty men stood and sat, all staring at the growing flame above their heads; Charley felt paralyzed. A chunk of burning thatch fell inward, glancing off a man's shoulder. The man leaped back. Several men rushed forward and began to stamp out the flames. Crabb was shouting for their attention. \"Everybody get out of this room! Someone fuse the powder kegs\u2014we'll have to blow the roof off.\"\n\nNorval Douglas put down his rifle and walked forward deliberately to the corner where the powder kegs were stacked. Charley found himself getting up and following Douglas. Men were streaming out of the room into the back corridors, dragging with them everything they could carry\u2014canteens, guns, food, blankets. By the time Charley carried two kegs to the center of the floor, the room was bright and smoky, and deserted. Douglas looked around and swore softly. \"The slow-match fuses are gone.\"\n\nCharley rushed around in frantic search until he heard Douglas's voice, calm through the thickening smoke: \"Never mind, Charley. Bring me a candle.\"\n\nHe took a candle from the big table that they had shoved back against the wall and, not knowing what it was for, carried it to Douglas. He began to choke and cough on the smoke. Douglas dropped the candle to the floor and stamped on it, crushing it, breaking the wax away from the wick. Then he stripped the wick with his fingers and stuck it into the bottom keg. \"Get out of here, Charley.\"\n\nSmoke clogged his lungs; he could not breathe. He turned and staggered blindly. At the edge of the room the smoke was less intense. He found a doorway and went through into a crowd of men. Looking back, he saw Douglas's shape dim in the wavering smoke, weirdly illuminated from above by the clattering flames. A section of thatch fell burning to the floor beyond the powder kegs. Douglas lit the candlewick and wheeled, running forward; but the wick burned quickly and Douglas was not yet to the door when the explosion went off.\n\nThe force of it blasted Douglas through the doorway. Charley's head rocked back, recoiling from the terrible noise. Men tumbled around him and he heard brittle objects falling; the room darkened. Douglas, blown flat on the corridor floor, struggled to his knees. His back appeared to have been burned but otherwise he did not seem hurt. A cool draft swept Charley's face and inside the big room he could see that the powder had blown away most of the roof. Two corners still burned, but the flames were small and not powerful enough to do any damage to the adobe walls. Log rafters made naked bars across the night.\n\n\"These people,\" McDowell said firmly, \"are determined to destroy us. By surrendering, we'd fall into their hands. Do you honestly think they'll let us go? They can't afford to. If I've got to die in this God-forsaken place, then by Jesus I'm going to sell my life dearly.\"\n\n\"Gabilondo assures me,\" Crabb murmured in reply, \"that he has four sixteen-pound horse-drawn cannon on the way. We can't hold out against him.\"\n\n\"Goddamn it,\" said McDowell, \"I'll take command myself. We can still fight our way out of here.\"\n\n\"Can we?\" Crabb retorted. \"Gabilondo has half a thousand men\u2014seasoned troops, not green militia any more.\"\n\nCharley listened to all this with detached bitterness. He looked up past the scorched rafters at the star-patterned sky. Smoke still hung in his nostrils. Crabb said firmly, \"We can't divide the party. It would do neither of us any good, McDowell, if half of us surrendered and the other half attempted to make a fight of it. Only if the whole party surrenders at once will they treat us as prisoners of war. It's better I assure you not to rankle them by useless resistance. I'm satisfied with the terms; I advise we surrender.\"\n\n\"I'll second,\" McCoun said in a wooden tone.\n\nMcDowell threw up his hand and grimaced, and turned away. Norval Douglas joined him and the two tall men conversed in quiet tones. Crabb pulled out a pocket watch from his vest and squinted at it, and shook his head, handing the watch to McCoun, who read the time and handed it back. Crabb snapped it shut, pocketed it, and said, \"Men, it's now eleven o'clock. I intend to surrender the party.\"\n\nA murmur ran around the room but no one spoke in protest. There was, in fact, a tangible measure of relief in the air. McDowell and Douglas moved back to the far wall, both of them carrying their guns, and stood resolutely there. Charley could see what, was on their minds. He went across to them. McDowell gave him a curious look, but it was Douglas who put his hand on Charley's shoulder and shook his head. Charley said defiantly, \"It's not my fault if they're all cowards.\"\n\n\"They're not cowards,\" Douglas said. \"They just don't believe that what's here is worth fighting for. You can't blame them.\"\n\n\"Then why are you staying?\"\n\n\"We'll try and make a break for the river after you've all left. If we can steal a pair of horses, we'll be all right.\"\n\n\"Why take the chance?\" Charley said. \"In a day or two we'll all be loose.\"\n\n\"Probably. But I didn't sign on just to surrender. It's hard to explain, Charley. Just take my word for it.\"\n\n\"I guess I'll stay,\" Charley said, feeling the dampness of his palms.\n\n\"No. Get out of here with the rest of them.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" Charley said, \"don't commit suicide. Come on out with the rest of us.\"\n\nDouglas shook his head gently. \"You've got a chance, Charley, to make something out of your life, because you're young. The rest of them don't.\"\n\n\"What about you?\"\n\n\"If you live for something, you've got to have the decency to die for it. Get out of here, Charley.\" Douglas spoke the last five words with hard energy, as if by his viciousness he hoped to persuade. When Charley didn't move, Douglas said, \"I don't want you here, Charley. Do you understand that? If you stay, and we don't make it, your death will be on my hands. Don't do that to me.\"\n\nCharley looked away, disappointed\u2014for at this moment Douglas, who relied on no one, was pleading with him. \"Go on,\" Douglas said softly. Charley turned away and moved like a mechanism toward the men who were lining up by the front door, discarding their weapons. When he looked back, Douglas and McDowell were gathering up abandoned revolvers, jamming them into their belts.\n\nCrabb was at the head of the line. His arm in a white sling was a pale triangle. He said, \"All right. Open the door.\" Someone lifted the bar down. Crabb pulled the door open. For a stretching interval, no one spoke, no one moved; and nothing stirred on the plaza. Crabb took up a white flag and stepped out.\n\nThrough a window Charley saw him cross the square, saw two Mexican soldiers come out to meet him, saw them take him away.\n\nThe night was deep and still. Singly, men walked through the door and across the dusty square. It was a long walk. Charley, last in line, looked back and in the shadows saw two lean figures standing. He looked down, scuffed his feet, and went out.\n\nThe Mexicans searched them and tied them up in a long storehouse beyond the church. Crabb was not tied; he stood off in a corner between two guards. Old John Edmonson sat down wearily beside Charley and scratched his face with his bound-together hands. He said, \"Unfortunate, very unfortunate.\"\n\nCharley covered his face with his hands and thought darkly of two tall figures in the gloom. Over the mutter of conversations he heard a sudden flurry of gunshots, a ragged after volley, and a thick silence. In the distance someone shouted, \" _Viva M\u00e9xico!_ \" And outside the storehouse, a voice spoke heartily: \" _Tendrimas cadaveres Yanquis, con que engordar a nuestros puercos_.\" And back in the black shadows one of the prisoners said hoarsely, \"Our hogs will fatten on the carcasses of the Yankees.\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\"What do you suppose they'll do to us?\"\n\n\"The sons of bitches. Maybe we shouldn't have trusted them.\"\n\n\"Crabb, you bastard, it's all your fault. None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you.\"\n\n\"By God, Crabb, if I get loose from here I'll hunt you down and so help me I'll stick a knife in you.\"\n\n\"I suppose your own greed had nothin' to do with it, hey, Shorty?\"\n\n\"Go to hell, Hyne.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Crabb said softly, \"if we emerge safely from this, I shall put myself at your disposal.\"\n\n\"Goddamn right you will,\" said Shorty's voice in the gloom.\n\n\"Oh, Mother of God!\"\n\n\"Did you hear those shots? They must have killed McDowell and Douglas. Goddamned fools, those two.\"\n\n\"I wish that Zimmerman son of a bitch was here. This would make him a nice fat story for the _Times_ , all right.\"\n\nAnonymous voices in the black. Charley tried not to listen to them. In a little while a Mexican officer came in and took Crabb away with him. A silence enveloped the building; he could hear the uneven breathing of men around him. Somebody said quietly, \"Hey\u2014 _soldado_. You got a drink? _Agua?_ \" The guards made no answer.\n\nGiron sat in the stuffing of a faded red sofa and watched the pistol slap steadily against Gabilondo's palm. Gabilondo went around the desk and sat down behind it. Crabb stood stiffly in the center of the room, an armed soldier behind each shoulder. His right arm hung in a bandage-sling. He looked like a mild, everyday sort of man, Giron thought, not like a raging filibuster at all. In a moment a line of junior officers filed into the room and ranked themselves along the wall. \"This,\" Gabilondo murmured to Crabb with a gesture, \"is your jury, amigo. You are here to be tried by a court-martial.\"\n\n\"I thought we were to be tried at Altar.\"\n\n\"I have changed my mind,\" Gabilondo said. Giron followed his English with difficulty; he was surprised that Gabilondo showed the courtesy to speak in Crabb's tongue.\n\n\"Am I not entitled to counsel?\" Crabb asked. Giron admired his haughty, unbending demeanor.\n\n\"As a man of varied political background,\" Gabilondo said, \"you are no doubt perfectly capable of speaking in your own behalf, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Crabb said. The junior officers stood blankly at attention. Giron stood up, not wishing to draw attention to himself, and moved around beside the sofa where he could put his shoulder blades to the wall. He folded his hands before him.\n\n\"You are charged,\" Gabilondo said, \"with illegal invasion, with acts tantamount to an act of war, and with willful murder. How do you plead?\"\n\n\"Not guilty.\"\n\n\"To each charge?\"\n\n\"Yes. To each charge.\"\n\n\"The evidence is as follows,\" Gabilondo said. His voice rang hollowly under the high ceiling. \"At the head of a band of armed men, you entered the state of Sonora from a foreign territory, intending to invade by force of arms. When halted by a regularly appointed officer of the government army, you informed him that you intended to advance in spite of the fact that he ordered you to withdraw. Then you shot the same officer, without warning, and inflicted a state of siege upon the members of the local militia. Now, these are all facts, se\u00f1or. I do not see how you can plead innocence when the facts are so plain.\"\n\n\"The facts as you state them are incomplete.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Gabilondo said, and smiled. \"How so, se\u00f1or?\"\n\n\"We are here not as illegal invaders, but as friendly colonists who were invited to settle here by your state government.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Gabilondo said. \"You no doubt have proof of this allegation?\"\n\n\"I do.\" Crabb reached awkwardly into his vest with his left hand and pulled out an oilskin pouch. From this he extracted a sheaf of papers and stepped forward to place them on Gabilondo's desk. Gabilondo picked up the papers and made a show of reading them. It took some time. Giron was aware of the rise and fall of his own chest, the flicker of oil in the lamps, the sleepy attention of the junior officers who were probably longing to return to their blankets and go to sleep. A young lieutenant sat back at a small writing table under a lamp, taking down testimony. His expression was bored, tired; he had marched for a week. Giron was thirsty for beer. He licked his lips.\n\n\"Forgeries,\" Gabilondo said in a bland tone. \"Naturally you would prepare yourself with such so-called documentary evidence before embarking on such a ruthlessly daring expedition. But this signature is definitely not that of Ignacio Pesquiera, and for myself, se\u00f1or, I deny ever having affixed my signature to such a paper.\"\n\nCrabb stood calmly and said nothing.\n\nGabilondo took the hood off the desk lamp. Crabb said, \"The documents are not forgeries, General, and you know that fact as well as I. We were both present when they were signed.\"\n\n\"Your memory must be at fault, se\u00f1or,\" Gabilondo murmured, and set a corner of the sheaf of papers afire. He let them burn up until the flames reached his fingers; then he dropped them on the desk and let the flames consume the last corners. \"So much for that evidence,\" he said. \"Have you anything else to say in your defense?\"\n\n\"Only that I am innocent, that you know I am innocent, and that if the people of Sonora ever discover what treacherous dogs they have elected in you and Pesquiera, you will both find yourselves rotting in the earth.\" Crabb's words were forceful; his voice was calm. He seemed to recognize the futility of protest. Giron looked away and studied the crucifix on the wall.\n\nGabilondo turned to the lieutenant at the writing table. \"You may strike the defendant's last remark from the record, Lieutenant.\"\n\n\" _S\u00ed, General_ \"\n\nCrabb said, \"You may do with me as you wish, General. I do not deny that my motives may have been base. But I ask that you honor your terms of surrender to my men. They did not come here expecting to fight against troops. They had no political objectives in mind. They are innocent of any crime against the state. I hold you to your word to release them on American soil.\"\n\n\"Your heroics are touching, amigo,\" Gabilondo murmured. \"But I have the feeling that the spirit of filibustering remains strong in the barbaric hearts of your countrymen north of the border. I believe they need a lesson. It is time they learned that Mexico is not a savage free land open to the greedy clutchings of misguided filibusters. We are a sovereign people, se\u00f1or, and it is time the United States was made aware of that fact.\"\n\n\"Marvelous sentiments,\" Crabb drawled. Giron cringed; he wished the man would break down.\n\n\"Gentlemen of the jury,\" Gabilondo said, his tone as dry as the desert winds, \"I will have your verdict.\"\n\nOne of the junior officers nodded his head. Gabilondo said, \"It is the verdict of a jury of regularly appointed officers that you are guilty of the charges brought against you by the state. Have you anything to say before I prescribe punishment?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" Crabb said.\n\n\"Then it is the sentence of this court-martial that you and your followers be executed by rifle fire at dawn.\"\n\nGiron felt he should speak. He looked at the slitted eyes of Gabilondo and held his tongue. He was very thirsty and wondered if the cantina was still open to the soldiers. He would go there afterward and drink enough beer to knock him out.\n\n\" _Adios_ , Se\u00f1or Crabb,\" Gabilondo murmured.\n\n\"I doubt,\" Crabb said, \"that you can know the consequences of this inhuman act, General.\" He turned on his heel and went out between the two silent guards.\n\n\"Very well, Jos\u00e9,\" said Gabilondo. \"Are you satisfied? The trial has been held. The verdict goes on record.\"\n\nGiron said nothing. He picked up his hat and sword and turned to the door, flicking his dry tongue around his teeth. It was better not to mix in political things.\nCHAPTER 23\n\nCrabb was returned to the barracks at one o'clock in the morning; he was kept by himself and was not allowed to communicate with the men. Charley lay awake and listened to the snoring of a man nearby. Someone came in with a lamp and a Mexican read in halting English the official sentence of the court-martial, that the entire company was to be shot at sunrise. A dozen guards stood at the front with shotguns. Several more lamps were brought. Charley saw bearded faces, open red mouths, weeping eyes; men cursed and men cried; some just sat. In half an hour some soldiers came in and looked around and picked out the sallow youth, Carl Chapin, and took him outside with them. Soon they returned and Chapin walked directly to Charley. \"He's younger than I am,\" Chapin said, and went back to fade into the crowd. The soldiers took Charley with them and sudden fear made his legs go limp; he concentrated all his attention on a livid hatred of Chapin.\n\nBut the soldiers only took him back to the big adobe house with its roof blown off where he had spent the previous days in siege. Nine of the wounded were there, and Charley remained under guard until just before dawn a man came and took him to another large house beyond the church. A squat, powerful man in a creased uniform took him by the arm and sat him down and spoke brusquely. \"My name is Hilario Gabilondo. I am in charge here. What is your name?\"\n\n\"Charles Evans.\"\n\n\"Your date of birth?\"\n\n\"December twenty-fifth, Eighteen Forty-two.\"\n\n\"Christmas Day, eh?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You are the youngest of the party, then.\"\n\n\"I guess I am. What about it?\"\n\n\"We have decided to spare one from among you,\" Gabilondo said. \"As the youngest, you have been chosen. I trust you will be thankful for your good fortune.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Charley said numbly.\n\n\"Eventually,\" Gabilondo continued, \"you will be released to return to your country. You understand it is a gesture of mercy on our part to show that we are not wolves here. I shall expect you to make a full report of what has happened here to the American newspapers\u2014so that your countrymen will know better than to try invading Mexico again.\"\n\nCharley said nothing. He hoped his expression was as cool as he intended it to be; he had that much caring left. In the past few hours he had not thought much about anything. He knew he was thirsty and hungry and in need of sleep, but those things did not matter. Nothing mattered.\n\nThey took him outside and put him on a horse amid a column of soldiers.\n\nThe window was high; the only thing he could see through it was sky. For hours he would watch clouds drift across, their shapes slowly changing. There were two cots in the cell, nailed to the floor, but Charley was alone. There was a tiny barred opening in the door. All he could see through it was the dim adobe wall on the far side of the jail corridor. With busy fingers he tied knots in pieces of straw that he had taken from the mattress ticking. The floor at his feet was littered with little bits of broken straw.\n\nOnce in a while he would tell himself he was lucky to be alive.\n\nUsually he did not believe it. Lucky or unlucky, he did not know, what difference was there?\n\nOne afternoon the door opened and someone stumbled into the dim room. The door closed quickly and tumblers clicked. Charley squinted up through the gloom.\n\n\"Evans,\" the man said hoarsely. \"Evans?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"My God. I thought they were all dead.\" It was, Charley saw, Sus Ainsa.\n\n\"No,\" Charley said, \"not all of them.\" He saw the tracks of pain and anger etched into Sus' face and suddenly he wished very much that he could also be able to feel those things. He felt nothing.\n\nSus lurched to the opposite cot and lowered himself onto it. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling, jaw slack. He shook his head, blinked, and said, \"How long have you been here?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I didn't bother to start counting. Sooner or later they'll let me out and send me back across the Line.\"\n\n\"Lucky,\" Sus said.\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Were\u2014\" Sus began, and stopped to clear his throat, and began again: \"Were you there?\"\n\n\"Not when they executed them.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Sus said.\n\n\"I was there afterward,\" Charley said, finding himself unable to put tone into his voice. \"It was the third day after the execution, I think. They took me back\u2014they said they wanted me to have a good look.\"\n\n\"Who took you?\"\n\n\"Gabilondo.\"\n\nSus looked searchingly at him, as if he wanted Charley to go on, or rather, as if he didn't truly want him to go on but had to know, and so Charley said, \"The Mexicans hadn't buried anybody. I guess maybe they were too busy celebrating the victory. The smell was pretty bad and we couldn't get too close. It looked like the bodies had been chewed by animals, and I guess the pigs got at them. I saw a finger on the ground, I suppose they cut it off for a ring. I recognized McCoun and a few of the others. The people in town were wearing our people's clothes. They had General Crabb's head in a jar of vinegar, you know\u2014a Mexican showed it to me. They made me wear a red jacket and dance around in the square.\"\n\nSus said nothing. After a stretch of dark silence he said tentatively, \"I got word that they wiped out McKinney and his sixteen men. I guess they made a complete job of it. Eighty-odd men, and two of us left alive, Charley.\" Sus looked as if he wanted to continue, but Charley gave him no encouragement. Sus said only, \"They let me write a letter to my sister but I couldn't think of what to tell her.\"\n\nNeither of them spoke again. Outside, through the window Charley could see the heavy dark hang of thick clouds. At sundown a guard brought supper for them; Charley ate because it gave him something to do. Then he lay back and watched the small square patch of sky darken. There was a brief hole in the clouds through which stars winked like distant lamplit windows across the desert, brightening one by one until the overcast swept by and obliterated them.\n\nEvery once in a while, at times like this one, he would think back on the night before the execution and remember young Chapin, pale and bent over his racking cough. Chapin had given Charley life by sacrificing his own: Why? Charley wondered if it meant there was something he should do with his gift of life. But none of them were there to answer him; only Sus was there, and Sus had not known the final truth of that night of surrender. Sus had been spared, probably because he was Mexican himself and had friends among the men of power. Sus had not been given the choice: it was Crabb who had chosen one way, Douglas and McDowell who had chosen the other. Each had chosen freely and the same fate had come to all of them.\n\nSus' voice cut across his thoughts: \"Evans?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I guess this all sits pretty hard with you.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"Don't make up your mind too fast,\" Sus said to him.\n\n\"About what?\"\n\n\"You've got plenty of time,\" Sus said. \"Don't let what you've seen turn you into a rock. The only thing you have is the future. The past is dead for all of us. It was something like this that made Norval Douglas what he was\u2014but it didn't do him any good to lose his faith.\"\n\n_Faith in what?_ was the answer that hung on Charley's tongue, but he did not voice it. Sus' talk droned on, insistent:\n\n\"Loneliness is the worst thing of all.\"\n\nLike ghosts they made visions before Charley: Edmonson, Chapin, Bill Randolph, Parker, Woods, Crabb, McKinney, McCoun, Holliday, McDowell, Douglas. Which was important: That each of them had lived, or that they had died? Who was at fault, Crabb for trusting too much, or Douglas and McDowell for refusing to give up? And why was Charley alive tonight? There ought to be a reason for it, beyond the random fact that he had been the youngest. Perhaps when he was released he might go and have a look for that reason. He doubted he would ever find it, but it would be as good a way to pass the time as any.\n\nAcross the cell, Sus spoke: \"You awake?\"\n\nCharley almost answered, but he could think of nothing to say to Sus. He turned his face toward the black wall. It was beginning to rain.\nEPILOGUE\n\nAfter his release from Mexico in September 1857, six months after the execution at Caborca, Charley Evans disappeared into the Southwestern desert. No one is recorded to have seen him for forty years. During that interval a Civil War was fought; the Indian tribes were subdued; railroads and telegraph threaded all quarters of the West; the day of the cattleman came, thrived briefly, and went, superseded by the day of the homestead farmer; the legendary plainsmen and gunfighters lived and died, leaving their myths; automobiles and telephones appeared. In 1897, weathered and gray, Charley Evans walked into Yuma leading a burro. He had been prospecting, but what he had been searching for in the desert for forty years was not clear, and he did not choose to reveal it. When he left Yuma to walk back into the desert it was almost the turn of the century. He was never seen again. The world had forgotten the executions at Caborca.\n\nAfter Charley left Mexico, Sus Ainsa was brought before a Mexican tribunal in a long, involved mockery of a trial, and was finally released in the absence of a verdict. He spent years trying to clear his name, and subsequently joined his brother, Augustin, in developing a prosperous coal business in Sonora. During those decades Ignacio Pesquiera, although widely disliked, continued to rule the state of Sonora. There was no particular difference between his brand of despotism and Gandara's.\n\nAfter Crabb's death, according to one source, letters from William Walker were found among his papers, proving that the two filibuster chiefs had entertained the idea of conquering the whole of Mexico: Crabb to work south from the Arizona border, Walker to work north from Central America. On May 1, 1857, or only about three weeks after the Crabb expedition met disaster, William Walker, the last surviving filibuster, surrendered to U. S. Navy Commander Charles H. Davis, in order to avoid death at the hands of Nicaraguans and Costa Ricans who had risen against Walker's piratical regime. Thus ended Walker's scheme, but not his covetousness: again in i860 he invaded Honduras with a filibuster force, but was captured and executed on September 12 of that year.\n\nImmediately following the execution of the Crabb expedition, General Gabilondo sent Lieutenant Corella north from Caborca with three hundred troops to engage the party of twenty-six gringos who were coming down from Tucson to reinforce Crabb. This relief column included in its roster some respected Indian fighters and even Granville H. Oury, who was to become a powerful figure in Southwestern politics. Despite its fighting ability, however, the column was outnumbered twelve to one. Corella attacked, and the column was driven back, across the border in confusion and hardship. It was a grim retreat; two or three men died.\n\nCrabb's was the last armed filibustering expedition to attempt the conquest of Mexico. In the absence of evidence that might have proved that there had been agreements between Pesquiera and Crabb, the United States government had no recourse but to let the issue drop after formally protesting the incident. (In fact copies of the agreement documents existed, but were only discovered much later.) John Forsyth, the American Envoy and Minister Plenipotentiary to Mexico, lodged a strong protest of the execution with Pesquiera and with the government at Mexico City. In Washington, on February 12, 1858, President James Buchanan transmitted to the House of Representatives the Secretary of State's report on the Crabb expedition: Executive Document 64, 35th Congress, 1st Session.\n\nThe issue was dropped; the incident soon became one of the minor, forgotten wars of our history. Today there remain the tall palms of Caborca, a few yellowed documents, and the dusty bronze plaque on the face of the battle-scarred church.\nAll rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.\n\nThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.\n\ncopyright \u00a9 1964 by Brian Garfield\n\ncover design by Mumtaz Mustafa\n\nISBN: 978-1-4532-3790-8\n\nThis edition published in 2011 by MysteriousPress.com\/Open Road Integrated Media\n\n180 Varick Street\n\nNew York, NY 10014\n\nwww.openroadmedia.com\n\n**BRIAN GARFIELD**\n\nFROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA\n\nFind a full list of our authors and\n\ntitles at www.openroadmedia.com\n\nFOLLOW US\n\n@OpenRoadMedia\n\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\n# **LA GU\u00cdA COMPLETA SOBRE  \nPLOMER\u00cdA**\n\n**\u2022 Materiales modernos y c\u00f3digos actualizados**\n\n**\u2022 Una Nueva Gu\u00eda para trabajar con Tuber\u00eda de gas**\n\n**MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA**\n\nwww.creativepub.com\n\n##   **Contenido**\n\n**La Gu\u00eda Completa sobre Plomer\u00eda**\n\n**Introducci\u00f3n**\n\nEl sistema de plomer\u00eda domiciliario\n\n**Accesorios de plomer\u00eda**\n\nRetretes\n\nGrifos de la cocina\n\nDesag\u00fces y sifones de la cocina\n\nLavaplatos\n\nTrituradores de alimentos\n\nCalentadores de agua\n\nGrifos del cuarto de ba\u00f1o\n\nJuegos de duchas\n\nBases de duchas a la medida\n\nBa\u00f1eras en alcoves\n\nJuegos de ba\u00f1era de tres piezas\n\nPuertas corredizas para ba\u00f1era\n\nBa\u00f1era de hidromasaje\n\nBid\u00e9s\n\nOrinales\n\nDescalcificadores\n\nDispensadores de agua caliente\n\nM\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo\n\nLlenadores de ollas\n\nFiltros de agua por \u00f3smosis inversa\n\nGrifos a prueba de congelamiento\n\nLavamanos de pedestal\n\nNeceseres de pared\n\nLavamanos de encimera\n\nTapas de lavamanos integrales\n\nFregaderos\n\nFregaderos empotrados\n\nDesag\u00fces verticales\n\n**Instalaciones de plomer\u00eda**\n\nFundamentos de instalaci\u00f3n\n\nRutas de plomer\u00eda\n\nBa\u00f1o principal\n\nBa\u00f1o del s\u00f3tano\n\nBa\u00f1o medio\n\nCocina\n\nNuevas l\u00edneas de gas\n\n**Reparaciones de plomer\u00eda**\n\nProblemas frecuentes en retretes\n\nRetretes atascados\n\nBridas para retrete\n\nL\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del retrete\n\nLavamanos\n\nRociadores y aireadores\n\nPlomer\u00eda defectuosa\n\nBa\u00f1eras y duchas\n\nDesag\u00fces de lavamanos\/fregaderos\n\nDesag\u00fces principales y ramales\n\nRamales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos\n\nTuber\u00edas principales\n\nTuber\u00eda de suministro\n\nTuber\u00eda reventada\n\nTuber\u00eda ruidosa\n\n**Herramientas, materiales y destrezas en plomer\u00eda**\n\nHerramientas de plomer\u00eda\n\nMateriales de plomer\u00eda\n\nCobre\n\nTubo pl\u00e1stico r\u00edgido\n\nTubo pl\u00e1stico flexible externo\n\nPolietileno reticulado (PEX)\n\nHierro galvanizado\n\nHierro colado\n\nAccesorios para tuber\u00eda\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n\n\nV\u00e1lvulas y grifos para manguera\n\nUniones de compresi\u00f3n\n\nTubos y accesorios para gas\n\n**Ap\u00e9ndice: Planificaci\u00f3n del proyecto**\n\n**Probar una nueva tuber\u00eda**\n\n**Glosario**\n\n**Tablas de conversiones**\n\n**Recursos y Reconocimientos**\n\n**\u00cdndice**\n\n## **Introducci\u00f3n**\n\nDesde su primera aparici\u00f3n en la versi\u00f3n en Ingl\u00e9s en 1998, _The Complete Guide to Home Plumbing_ ( _La Gu\u00eda Completa a la Plomer\u00eda Casera_ ), se ha establecido como uno de los m\u00e1s aceptados libros sobre el tema disponibles en el mercado. Ahora, en su cuarta versi\u00f3n en Ingl\u00e9s bajo el t\u00edtulo _The Complete Guide to Plumbing_ , y en su primera versi\u00f3n en el idioma Espa\u00f1ol como _La Gu\u00eda Completa sobre Plomer\u00eda_ , es m\u00e1s amplio y mejor que nunca, y cumple por completo con el actual C\u00f3digo de Plomer\u00eda Nacional. En este exhaustivo estudio, encontrar\u00e1 toda la pr\u00e1ctica informaci\u00f3n que necesita entender para realizar proyectos de instalaci\u00f3n y reparaci\u00f3n de plomer\u00eda usted mismo con seguridad y confianza.\n\nEn esta nueva versi\u00f3n en Espa\u00f1ol hemos actualizado algunos de los proyectos m\u00e1s comunes que reflejan nuevos productos y t\u00e9cnicas del mercado. Si alguna vez ha instalado un sanitario, lea sobre los primeros proyectos que aparece en esta obra; \"Reemplazar un sanitario\". All\u00ed encontrar\u00e1 un par de nuevos consejos que no hab\u00eda tenido en cuenta en el pasado. Y si est\u00e1 al tanto de los nuevos dise\u00f1os de ba\u00f1os, no debe ignorar toda la nueva secuencia de c\u00f3mo instalar orinales y bid\u00e9s. Estos dos accesorios est\u00e1n creciendo en popularidad para el uso hogare\u00f1o. No encontrar\u00e1 este tipo de informaci\u00f3n paso a paso en otro libro similar.\n\nOtra adici\u00f3n novedosa en esta primera edici\u00f3n en Espa\u00f1ol cubre la informaci\u00f3n b\u00e1sica para trabajar con tuber\u00edas de gas\u2014aqu\u00ed se incluyen dos proyectos. Trabajar con tuber\u00eda de gas no es una labor para cualquiera. Existe la posibilidad de un alto riesgo, y en muchas localidades, los due\u00f1os de casas no son autorizados para hacer este tipo de conexiones. Pero, si tiene el deseo y la aprobaci\u00f3n para instalar una extensi\u00f3n a su sistema de servicio de gas, o simplemente hacer una conexi\u00f3n de gas a su calentador de agua, aqu\u00ed encontrar\u00e1 toda la informaci\u00f3n necesaria para realizar la labor.\n\nPara su mayor conveniencia, puede encontrar paso a paso todos los proyectos llevados en este libro descritos en la p\u00e1gina del Contenido. Tambi\u00e9n los hemos presentado m\u00e1s o menos en orden de popularidad, seg\u00fan nuestras charlas con plomeros profesionales entrevistados. La informaci\u00f3n indispensable sobre herramientas, materiales y t\u00e9cnicas se incluye en la parte trasera de esta obra para una f\u00e1cil referencia.\n\nDurante la creaci\u00f3n de _La Gu\u00eda Completa sobre Plomer\u00eda_ , hemos tratado de anticipar sus necesidades y situaciones de la forma m\u00e1s precisa posible. Si por alguna raz\u00f3n se estanca en una pregunta o soluci\u00f3n no cubierta en este libro, no dude en consultar un plomero profesional, o el inspector de plomer\u00eda de su localidad.\n\n###   **El sistema de plomer\u00eda domiciliario**\n\nDebido a que la mayor parte del sistema de plomer\u00eda est\u00e1 oculta dentro de los pisos y paredes, puede aparecer como un complejo laberinto de tubos y accesorios. En realidad, la plomer\u00eda domiciliaria es sencilla. Entender c\u00f3mo funciona es un paso importante para hacer mantenimiento rutinario y reparaciones con las que se ahorra dinero.\n\nUn t\u00edpico sistema de plomer\u00eda domiciliario incluye tres partes b\u00e1sicas: un sistema de suministro de agua, un juego de aparatos e instalaciones fijas, y un sistema de desag\u00fce. Estas partes pueden apreciarse claramente en la fotograf\u00eda del corte transversal de la casa en la siguiente p\u00e1gina.\n\nEl agua entra a trav\u00e9s de una l\u00ednea de distribuci\u00f3n principal (1). El agua es suministrada por una empresa p\u00fablica o por un pozo privado. Si viene de un distribuidor p\u00fablico, pasa a trav\u00e9s de un contador (2) que registra la cantidad usada. Una familia de cuatro personas usa cerca de 400 galones de agua por d\u00eda.\n\nDespu\u00e9s de que el suministro principal entra a la casa, se deriva una l\u00ednea de empalme (3) y se une a un calentador de agua (4). De \u00e9ste, una tuber\u00eda de agua caliente avanza paralela a la tuber\u00eda de agua fr\u00eda para llevar el agua a los aparatos e instalaciones fijas en toda la vivienda. Las instalaciones fijas incluyen fregaderos, ba\u00f1eras, duchas y tubos para lavadora.\n\nLos aparatos incluyen calentadores de agua, lavadoras y descalcificadores. Los retretes y grifos exteriores para manguera son ejemplos de instalaciones fijas que requieren s\u00f3lo una l\u00ednea de agua fr\u00eda.\n\nEl suministro de agua a instalaciones fijas y aparatos es controlado con grifos y v\u00e1lvulas, los cuales tienen partes y empaques removibles que con el tiempo pueden desgastarse o romperse, pero son f\u00e1cilmente reparados o reemplazados.\n\nLuego el agua de desecho entra al sistema de desag\u00fce. Primero debe pasar por un sif\u00f3n de desag\u00fce (5), un tubo en U que mantiene agua e impide que gases cloacales entren a la casa. Cada instalaci\u00f3n fija debe tener un sif\u00f3n de desag\u00fce.\n\nEl sistema de desag\u00fce funciona completamente por gravedad, permitiendo que el agua de desecho fluya a trav\u00e9s de una serie de tubos de di\u00e1metro grande. Estos tubos de desag\u00fce est\u00e1n unidos a un sistema de respiraderos (6), que llevan aire puro al sistema de drenaje, evitando la succi\u00f3n que disminuir\u00eda el flujo del agua de drenaje o lo detendr\u00eda. Los respiraderos usualmente salen de la casa en un respiradero de techo (7).\n\nToda el agua de desecho finalmente llega a una tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n (8), la cual se curva para convertirse en una tuber\u00eda de alcantarillado (9) que sale de la vivienda junto al cimiento. En un sistema p\u00fablico, esta tuber\u00eda se une a una tuber\u00eda de alcantarillado principal localizada junto a la calle. Cuando no hay disponible un servicio de alcantarillado, el agua de desecho es vaciada en un sistema s\u00e9ptico.\n\n**Los contadores y las v\u00e1lvulas de** retenci\u00f3n principal est\u00e1n localizados donde la l\u00ednea de distribuci\u00f3n de agua principal entra en la casa. El contador es propiedad de la compa\u00f1\u00eda de suministro de agua. Si el contador gotea, o si cree que no est\u00e1 funcionando bien, debe llamar a la compa\u00f1\u00eda para su reparaci\u00f3n.\n\n####   **Sistema de suministro de agua**\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de suministro lleva agua caliente y fr\u00eda por toda la casa. En viviendas construidas antes de 1960, la tuber\u00eda de suministro original usualmente era hecha de hierro galvanizado; casas m\u00e1s recientes tienen tubos hechos de cobre. En la mayor parte de los Estados Unidos, la tuber\u00eda hecha de pl\u00e1stico r\u00edgido o PEX es aceptada por los c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda locales.\n\nLa tuber\u00eda est\u00e1 hecha para resistir las altas presiones del sistema de suministro de agua. Tiene di\u00e1metros peque\u00f1os, usualmente de \u00bd\" a 1\", y est\u00e1 unida con accesorios fuertes y herm\u00e9ticos. Las tuber\u00edas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda van en t\u00e1ndem a todas las partes de la casa. Usualmente, la tuber\u00eda avanza dentro de cavidades en la pared o es atada a la parte inferior de las vigas del piso.\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n de agua caliente y fr\u00eda es conectada a instalaciones fijas o a aparatos. Algunas instalaciones, tales como retretes o grifos exteriores para manguera s\u00f3lo reciben agua fr\u00eda; los aparatos incluyen lavaplatos y lavadoras. Una m\u00e1quina de fabricar hielo utiliza solamente agua fr\u00eda. La tradici\u00f3n dice que la tuber\u00eda de agua caliente y sus correspondientes grifos son encontrados al lado izquierdo de una instalaci\u00f3n, con el agua fr\u00eda a la derecha.\n\nDebido a que est\u00e1 presurizado, el sistema de suministro de agua es propenso a las fugas, especialmente en las tuber\u00edas de hierro galvanizado, que tienen resistencia limitada a la corrosi\u00f3n.\n\n####   **Sistema de desag\u00fce-desecho-respiraci\u00f3n**\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce usa la gravedad para llevarse el agua de desecho de las instalaciones fijas, aparatos y otros drenajes. El agua de desecho sale de la casa a un sistema de alcantarillado p\u00fablico o a un pozo s\u00e9ptico.\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce usualmente es de pl\u00e1stico o hierro colado. En algunas casas antiguas, puede estar hecha de cobre o plomo. Debido a que no es parte del sistema de suministro, la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce de plomo no genera riesgos para la salud; sin embargo, esta tuber\u00eda ya no es fabricada para los sistemas de plomer\u00eda domiciliarios.\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce tiene di\u00e1metros que oscilan entre 1\u00bc\"y 4\". Estos di\u00e1metros grandes permiten que el desecho fluya f\u00e1cilmente.\n\nLos sifones son una parte importante del sistema de desag\u00fce. Estas secciones curvadas de la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce retienen agua, y usualmente se encuentran junto a una abertura de desag\u00fce. El agua retenida de un sif\u00f3n impide que gases cloacales retrocedan a la casa. Cada vez que se usa un desag\u00fce, el agua en el sif\u00f3n es evacuada y es reemplazada por agua nueva.\n\nEl sistema necesita aire para funcionar adecuadamente; el aire permite que el agua de desecho fluya libremente a trav\u00e9s de la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce.\n\nLa tuber\u00eda est\u00e1 conectada a respiraderos para que pueda entrar aire en el sistema de desag\u00fce. Todos los sistemas de desag\u00fce deben incluir respiraderos, y el sistema completo es llamado DWV (drain-waste-vent), o sistema de desag\u00fce-desecho-respiraci\u00f3n. Uno o m\u00e1s respiraderos, localizados en el techo, suministran el aire necesario para que el sistema DWV funcione.\n\n## **Accesorios de plomer\u00eda**\n\nReferirse a alg\u00fan aspecto de la plomer\u00eda como glamoroso o divertido, suena algo reforzado. Instalar partes como los fregaderos y las duchas representan el coraz\u00f3n de esta actividad; es el aspecto de la plomer\u00eda en el que primero pensamos, y en muchos casos el resultado de nuestro esfuerzo es casi instant\u00e1neo.\n\nEn esta secci\u00f3n encontrar\u00e1 fotos e instrucciones paso a paso para las 28 instalaciones fijas que probablemente realizar\u00e1 con m\u00e1s frecuencia. La secci\u00f3n con el proyecto de instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s com\u00fan es la de los retretes. Desde remover la unidad vieja, empotrar una nueva, hacer todos los montajes e incluso instalar el asiento, aqu\u00ed podr\u00e1 encontrar la forma de hacer el trabajo completo por medio de fotos a todo color. A partir de ah\u00ed, encontrar\u00e1 una serie de actividades que van desde la cocina hasta el ba\u00f1o y el lavadero, y una vez m\u00e1s, todo mostrado con completo detalle.\n\n###   **Retretes**\n\nPuede reemplazar un retrete ineficiente o de mal funcionamiento con uno nuevo de alta calidad y eficiencia en una sola tarde. Todos los retretes hechos desde 1996 han requerido el uso de 1.6 galones o menos por descarga, lo cual ha sido un reto enorme para la industria.\n\nHoy d\u00eda, los m\u00e1s evolucionados de 1.6 galones tienen pasajes detr\u00e1s de la taza y v\u00e1lvulas de descarga anchas (3\")\u2014caracter\u00edsticas que facilitan descargas cortas y fuertes\u2014. Esto significa menos segundas descargas y menos retretes atascados. Tales problemas eran quejas comunes de la primera generaci\u00f3n de 1.6 galones y contin\u00faan bloqueando modelos inferiores actualmente.\n\nAverig\u00fce qu\u00e9 retretes hay disponibles en los centros de ventas especializados de su localidad de acuerdo a su presupuesto, luego entre a Internet y vea c\u00f3mo han sido las experiencias de otros consumidores con esos modelos. Los nuevos a menudo atraviesan una etapa de uso en que son m\u00e1s comunes los problemas con fugas y partes funcionando mal. Su criterio deber\u00e1 incluir facilidad de instalaci\u00f3n, buenas descargas y fiabilidad.\n\nCon una corta investigaci\u00f3n, estar\u00e1 en capacidad para comprar e instalar un retrete econ\u00f3mico de alto rendimiento y descarga por gravedad que funcionar\u00e1 con buenos resultados por a\u00f1os.\n\n**Reemplazar un retrete** es sencillo, y la \u00faltima generaci\u00f3n de unidades de 1.6 galones que ahorran agua, ha superado los problemas de funcionamiento de modelos anteriores.\n\n####   **Elecci\u00f3n de un nuevo retrete**\n\nLos retretes han cambiado en a\u00f1os recientes. Hay uno para cada gusto; puede incluso comprar un retrete cuadrado o de acero inoxidable, entre un gran n\u00famero de nuevas opciones. Los nuevos dise\u00f1os son eficientes, duraderos y menos susceptibles a atascamientos.\n\nEl estilo de un retrete es en parte influido por la forma en que es construido. Hay varias opciones para escoger:\n\n**Los de dos piezas** tienen tanque y taza por separado.\n\n**Los de una pieza** tienen el tanque y la taza fabricados en una sola unidad.\n\n**Las tazas alargadas** son aproximadamente 2\" m\u00e1s largas que las habituales.\n\n**Los retretes elevados** tienen asientos m\u00e1s altos, generalmente de 18\", en lugar del est\u00e1ndar de 15\". Puede escoger de dos tipos b\u00e1sicos de mecanismos de descarga: por gravedad y por presi\u00f3n.\n\n**Los retretes que funcionan por gravedad** permiten que el agua caiga precipitadamente de un tanque elevado a la taza. La ley federal dicta que los nuevos retretes no consuman m\u00e1s de 1.6 galones de agua por descarga, menos de la mitad del volumen usado por modelos m\u00e1s antiguos.\n\n**Los que funcionan por presi\u00f3n** dependen de aire comprimido o bombas de agua para generar la fuerza necesaria de descarga.\n\n**Los sistemas de descarga doble** tienen dos botones sobre el tanque que permiten escoger una descarga de 8 onzas para l\u00edquidos o una de 1.6 galones para s\u00f3lidos.\n\n**Hay retretes de** diversos modelos y colores para ajustarse a casi cualquier decoraci\u00f3n. Los de dos piezas generalmente son m\u00e1s baratos y vienen en un gran surtido de estilos y colores. Muchos modelos de gama alta vienen con un bid\u00e9.\n\n**Los retretes que funcionan** por gravedad actualmente son dise\u00f1ados con tanques m\u00e1s altos y la pared de la taza m\u00e1s empinada para aumentar los efectos de la gravedad.\n\n**Los retretes que funcionan por presi\u00f3n** son m\u00e1s costosos que los modelos est\u00e1ndar, pero reducen significativamente el consumo de agua. El mecanismo en el que funciona por presi\u00f3n ejerce la fuerza de descarga usando aire comprimido o bombas de agua.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo remover un retrete**\n\n**Remueva el tubo** de suministro. Primero, cierre el flujo de agua en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n. Descargue el retrete, sosteniendo la manija abajo para una descarga larga, y limpie con esponja el tanque. Desenrosque la tuerca de acoplamiento para el suministro de agua debajo del tanque, usando alicates tipo canal. Use una aspiradora h\u00fameda\/seca para quitar el agua remanente del tanque y la taza.\n\n**Agarre cada tuerca** del tanque con una llave de cubo o alicates y afl\u00f3jela mientras estabiliza cada tornillo dentro del tanque con un destornillador ranurado. Si las tuercas est\u00e1n atascadas, \u00e9cheles aceite penetrante y d\u00e9jelo asentar antes de tratar de removerlas otra vez. Tambi\u00e9n puede cortar los tornillos del tanque entre \u00e9ste y la taza con una sierra para metales. Remueva y deseche el tanque.\n\n**Remueva las tuercas** que sujetan la taza al piso. Primero, quite los tornillos cubiertos con un destornillador. Use una llave de cubo, alicates de cierre o alicates tipo canal para aflojar las tuercas en los tornillos del tanque. Aplique aceite penetrante y d\u00e9jelo asentar si las tuercas est\u00e1n atascadas, luego qu\u00edtelas. Como \u00faltimo recurso, corte los tornillos con una sierra para metales, cortando primero un lado de la tuerca. Remueva la taza del retrete.\n  **Consejo**\n\n**Remover un anillo** de cera antiguo es uno de los trabajos m\u00e1s repugnantes en la actividad de la plomer\u00eda (el que ve aqu\u00ed est\u00e1 en una condici\u00f3n relativamente buena). Use un cuchillo de enmasillar r\u00edgido debajo de la pesta\u00f1a pl\u00e1stica del anillo (si puede) y comience a raspar. En muchos casos el anillo de cera se desprender\u00e1 en trozos. Deseche cada trozo de inmediato\u2014se pegan en todo\u2014. Si queda mucho residuo, restriegue con un solvente moderado. Una vez limpio, ponga una bolsa con un trapo dentro en la abertura de desag\u00fce para bloquear gas cloacal.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un retrete**\n\n**Limpie y examine la antiguo brida para retrete**. Busque grietas o desgaste. Examine tambi\u00e9n el piso alrededor del accesorio. Si el anillo o el piso est\u00e1n rotos o da\u00f1ados, repare el da\u00f1o. Use un trapo y mineral spirit para remover completamente residuos del anillo de cera antiguo. Ponga una bolsa con un trapo dentro en la abertura para bloquear olores.\n  **Consejo**\n\n**Si va a reemplazar la brida para retrete** o si el existente puede ser desatornillado y movido, oriente el nuevo de tal forma que las ranuras queden paralelas a la pared. Esto le permitir\u00e1 introducir los tornillos bajo las \u00e1reas ranuradas, que son mucho m\u00e1s fuertes que las \u00e1reas en los extremos de las ranuras curvadas.\n\n**Introduzca los tornillos** nuevos (no vuelva a usar los viejos) en las aberturas de la brida para retrete. Aseg\u00farese que las cabezas de los tornillos est\u00e9n orientadas de tal forma que cojan la cantidad m\u00e1xima de material del anillo.\n\n**Sujete el anillo** de cera y p\u00f3ngalo en la parte inferior de la taza, alrededor de la boquilla de descarga. Remueva la cubierta protectora. No toque el anillo, es muy pegajoso. Quite la bolsa con el trapo dentro.\n\n**Ponga la taza** sobre la brida para retrete con cuidado sin correr el anillo de cera. Los agujeros en la base de la taza deben alinearse perfectamente con los tornillos del tanque. Coloque una arandela y apriete la tuerca en cada tornillo. Apriete con la mano cada tuerca y luego use alicates tipo canal. Apriete alternadamente las tuercas hasta que la taza quede bien firme. _No se sobrepase al apretarlas._\n\n**Ponga el tanque.** Algunos tanques vienen con una v\u00e1lvula de descarga y una v\u00e1lvula de llenado preinstaladas. Para modelos que no tienen esto, introduzca la v\u00e1lvula de descarga a trav\u00e9s de la abertura del tanque y apriete una tuerca spud sobre el extremo roscado de la v\u00e1lvula. Ponga una arandela spud sobre la tuerca spud.\n\n**Ajuste la v\u00e1lvula de llenado** como lo indica el fabricante para fijar el nivel de agua correcto en el tanque e instale la v\u00e1lvula dentro del mismo. Apriete con la mano la contratuerca de nailon que asegura la v\u00e1lvula al tanque (foto del recuadro) y luego apri\u00e9tela m\u00e1s con alicates tipo canal.\n\n**Con el tanque recostado sobre su parte posterior,** meta una arandela de caucho en cada tornillo del tanque e introd\u00fazcala en los agujeros de los tornillos dentro del tanque. Luego, meta una arandela met\u00e1lica y una tuerca de cabeza hexagonal en los tornillos del tanque desde abajo y apri\u00e9telos un cuarto de giro despu\u00e9s de apretar con la mano. No se sobrepase al apretar.\n\n**Coloque el tanque sobre la taza,** la arandela spud sobre la abertura y los tornillos en los agujeros. Ponga una arandela de caucho, seguida por una arandela met\u00e1lica y una tuerca de mariposa en cada tornillo y apri\u00e9telos uniformemente.\n\n**Puede estabilizar los tornillos** con un destornillador ranurado dentro del tanque, pero apriete las tuercas, no los tornillos. Puede presionar un poco en un lado, el frente o la parte posterior del tanque para nivelarlo mientras aprieta las tuercas con la mano. No se sobrepase al apretar afectando el tanque. \u00c9ste debe quedar nivelado y estable. No apriete m\u00e1s de la cuenta.\n\n**Conecte el agua acoplando el tubo** de suministro en la v\u00e1lvula de llenado enroscada con la tuerca de acoplamiento prove\u00edda. Fluya el agua y examine si hay fugas. No se sobrepase al apretar.\n\n**Ponga el asiento del retrete** conectando los tornillos pl\u00e1sticos o met\u00e1licos con el asiento a trav\u00e9s de las aberturas en la parte posterior y tuercas de uni\u00f3n.\n\n###   **Grifos de la cocina**\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de grifos de cocina nuevos tienen palancas de control monomando y dise\u00f1os sin empaques que pocas veces requieren mantenimiento. Caracter\u00edsticas adicionales incluyen pulimentos met\u00e1licos, boquillas desmontables o incluso control por bot\u00f3n.\n\nConecte el grifo a las l\u00edneas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda con tubos flexibles f\u00e1ciles de instalar hechos de vinilo o acero trenzado. Si el grifo tiene un rociador separado, instale \u00e9ste primero. Tire de la manguera del rociador a trav\u00e9s de la abertura del fregadero y conecte al grifo antes de instalarlo.\n\nDonde los c\u00f3digos locales lo permitan, use tubos pl\u00e1sticos para montajes de desag\u00fce. Un amplio surtido de extensiones y codos le permitir\u00e1n realizar cualquier configuraci\u00f3n de fregadero. Los fabricantes ofrecen un juego que contiene todos los accesorios necesarios para conectar un triturador de alimentos o un lavaplatos al sistema de desag\u00fce del fregadero.\n\n**Los grifos de cocina** modernos tienden a ser modelos monomando, a menudo con caracter\u00edsticas \u00fatiles tales como una cabeza de salida que funciona como un rociador. Este modelo Price P _f_ ister\u2122 viene con una platina opcional que oculta los agujeros del fregadero cuando es montado en una brida ya taladrada.\n\n####   **Elecci\u00f3n de un nuevo grifo de cocina**\n\nEncontrar\u00e1 muchas opciones cuando vaya a escoger un nuevo grifo de cocina. El mejor lugar para iniciar el proceso es con el fregadero. En el pasado, la mayor\u00eda de grifos eran montados directamente en la cubierta del fregadero, que ten\u00eda tres o cuatro agujeros ya taladrados para acomodar los grifos, tubo de desag\u00fce, rociador y tal vez un dispensador de jab\u00f3n l\u00edquido o un entrehierro para el lavaplatos.\n\nLos grifos modernos no siempre se ajustan a esta disposici\u00f3n, pues muchos de ellos est\u00e1n dise\u00f1ados para ser instalados en una sola cavidad en la cubierta o en la encimera. Si planea conservar su viejo fregadero, busque un grifo que no deje huecos vac\u00edos en la cubierta. Generalmente, lo mejor es reemplazar con elementos iguales, pero los agujeros de fregadero inoxidable no ocupados pueden ser tapados con tapones snap-in o un dispensador de jab\u00f3n.\n\nLas dos clases de grifos de cocina m\u00e1s b\u00e1sicas son: monomando y de dos manijas. Los modelos monomandoson mucho m\u00e1s populares ahora porque se puede ajustar la temperatura del agua f\u00e1cilmente con una sola mano.\n\nOtra diferencia es el cuerpo del grifo. Algunos grifos tienen las llaves y el pico montados en un cuerpo de tal forma que el espaciamiento entre los ap\u00e9ndices est\u00e1 predispuesto. Otros, llamados grifos extendidos tienen llaves y picos que pueden ser configurados como usted quiera. Este tipo es el mejor si va a instalar el grifo en la encimera (una forma com\u00fan en encimeras nuevas tales como superficie s\u00f3lida, cuarzo o granito).\n\nEn el pasado, los grifos de cocina casi siempre ten\u00edan un rociador de salida separado. El rociador estaba conectado al cuerpo del grifo con una manguera justo debajo de la v\u00e1lvula mezcladora. Aunque este tipo de rociador todav\u00eda es bastante com\u00fan, actualmente muchos grifos tienen un pico de salida integral que es muy conveniente y menos propenso a fallas que los rociadores de estilo antiguo.\n\n**Un grifo de arco alto y monomando** con rociador separado tradicional. La platina es decorativa y opcional.\n\n**Los grifos de dos manijas** son menos comunes, pero a\u00fan son elecciones populares para las cocinas tradicionales. El de cuello de cisne tambi\u00e9n tiene cierta elegancia, pero evite este tipo si tiene un fregadero de menos de 8\" de profundidad.\n\n**Los grifos monomando** pueden requerir cuatro agujeros, como este modelo con su rociador lateral y dispensador de loci\u00f3n jabonosa.\n\n**Un grifo monomando** con cabeza de salida requiere s\u00f3lo un agujero en la cubierta o encimera\u2014un verdadero beneficio si el fregadero no est\u00e1 taladrado o si es un modelo submontado\u2014.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo remover el grifo viejo**\n\n**Para remover el grifo viejo,** empiece limpiando el gabinete bajo el fregadero y colocando toallas. Cierre las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n de agua caliente y fr\u00eda y abra el grifo para asegurarse de que no hay flujo de l\u00edquido. Desconecte la manguera de la entrerrosca del rociador y desatornille la tuerca de retenida que asegura la base del rociador en la cubierta. Saque la manguera del rociador a trav\u00e9s de la abertura de la cubierta.\n\n**Roc\u00ede las tuercas de montaje** que sostienen el grifo o las manijas del mismo (en la parte inferior de la cubierta) con aceite penetrante para una remoci\u00f3n m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil. Deje que el aceite se asiente por unos minutos.\n\n**Desconecte los tubos de suministro en las v\u00e1lvulas** de retenci\u00f3n. No vuelva a usar tubos cromados viejos. Si hacen falta los retenedores o no sirven, reempl\u00e1celos. Luego quite las tuercas de acoplamiento y las tuercas de montaje de los ap\u00e9ndices del grifo con una llave lavaplatos o alicates tipo canal.\n\n**Separe el grifo del fregadero.** Remueva la base del rociador si desea reemplazarlo. Quite la masilla vieja con un cuchillo de enmasillar y limpie el fregadero con un estropajo y un limpiador ac\u00eddico como Bar Keeper's Friend\u00ae. _Consejo: friegue el acero inoxidable con movimiento de atr\u00e1s y adelante para evitar dejar marcas circulares feas._\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un grifo de cocina**\n\n**Cierre el agua caliente y fr\u00eda** en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n del grifo. Monte las partes de la chapa de piso que cubren los agujeros de montaje externos en la cubierta (a menos que est\u00e9 instalando un grifo de dos manijas, o mont\u00e1ndolo directamente en la encimera, como en el caso de un fregadero submontado). Agregue un anillo de masilla de plomero en la ranura de la parte inferior de la placa de asiento.\n\n**Ponga la placa de asiento** sobre la brida del fregadero de tal forma que quede correctamente alineada con los agujeros ya taladrados en la brida. Desde abajo, apriete las tuercas de mariposa, que aseguran la chapa de piso en la cubierta.\n\n**Retire la manguera de salida** sac\u00e1ndola a trav\u00e9s del cuerpo del grifo hasta que el accesorio al final de la manguera est\u00e9 a ras con el ap\u00e9ndice roscado del grifo. Introduzca el extremo del grifo y los tubos de suministro a trav\u00e9s de la chapa.\n\n**Deslice la tuerca de montaje** y la arandela sobre los extremos de los tubos de suministro y la manguera de salida, luego enrosque la tuerca en el extremo roscado del grifo. Apriete con la mano. Apriete los tornillos retenedores con un destornillador para asegurar el grifo.\n\n**Deslice el peso** sobre la manguera de salida (el peso ayuda a evitar que la manguera se enrede y de esa manera puede ser m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil retraerla).\n\n**Conecte el extremo** de la manguera en el puerto de salida del grifo usando un conector r\u00e1pido.\n\n**Conecte los tubos de suministro** de agua en las entradas del grifo. Aseg\u00farese que las l\u00edneas lleguen a los tubos ascendentes sin estirarlas o enroscarlas.\n\n**Conecte las l\u00edneas de suministro** con los tubos ascendentes en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n. Aseg\u00farese de conectar correctamente las l\u00edneas de caliente y fr\u00edo.\n\n**Conecte la cabeza** de rociado con el extremo de la manguera de salida y gire el conector para asegurar la uni\u00f3n. Conecte el agua y haga una prueba. _Consejo: Quite el aireador en la punta de la cabeza de rociado y deje fluir agua caliente y fr\u00eda para eliminar residuos._\n  **Variaci\u00f3n: Grifo de una pieza con rociadvor**\n\n**Aplique una gota grande** de silicona en el rev\u00e9s de la base del grifo y luego introduzca los ap\u00e9ndices a trav\u00e9s de los debidos agujeros en la cubierta. Presione ligeramente sobre el grifo para fijarlo en la silicona.\n\n**Deslice una arandela** de fricci\u00f3n en cada ap\u00e9ndice y luego apriete con la mano la tuerca de montaje. Ahora apri\u00e9tela con alicates tipo canal o una llave lavaplatos. Limpie la silicona en la cubierta con un trapo mojado antes de que se pegue.\n\n**Conecte los tubos de suministro** con los ap\u00e9ndices del grifo. Aseg\u00farese de que los tubos que compre sean lo suficientemente largos para conectarse con las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n, y que las tuercas de acoplamiento casen con los tubos y ap\u00e9ndices.\n\n**Aplique \u00bc\" de masilla o silicona** en el rev\u00e9s de la base del rociador. Con la base enroscada en la manguera del rociador, introduzca el ap\u00e9ndice del mismo a trav\u00e9s de la abertura en la cubierta del fregadero.\n\n**Desde abajo,** deslice la arandela de fricci\u00f3n sobre el ap\u00e9ndice del rociador y luego atornille la tuerca de montaje sobre el ap\u00e9ndice. Apriete con alicates tipo canal o una llave lavaplatos. Al final limpie el exceso de masilla sobre la cubierta del fregadero.\n\n**Atornille la manguera** del rociador en la entrerrosca sobre el extremo del grifo. Apriete con la mano y luego d\u00e9le a la tuerca un cuarto de giro con alicates tipo canal o una llave lavaplatos. Conecte el suministro de agua, quite el aireador y elimine residuos del grifo.\n\n###   **Desag\u00fces y sifones de la cocina**\n\nLos desag\u00fces de la cocina no duran para siempre, pero lo bueno es que son muy econ\u00f3micos y f\u00e1ciles de reemplazar. Actualmente los modelos m\u00e1s comunes son hechos de tubos PVC conectados con uniones deslizantes. Adem\u00e1s de hacer bastante c\u00f3moda la instalaci\u00f3n, la uni\u00f3n deslizante hace que sea f\u00e1cil de desarmar el desag\u00fce si hay atascamientos. El proyecto mostrado aqu\u00ed es un poco inusual para los est\u00e1ndares actuales, por no incluir un desag\u00fce para la m\u00e1quina lavaplatos o un triturador de basura; pero ver\u00e1 c\u00f3mo adicionar cada uno de estos sistemas de desag\u00fce a su fregadero en los cap\u00edtulos siguientes.\n\nPuede comprar las partes del desag\u00fce de la cocina de manera individual (de esta forma usualmente se obtienen materiales de mejor calidad) o en un juego (ver foto de la siguiente p\u00e1gina). Debido a que la mayor\u00eda de fregaderos tienen dos senos, los juegos incluyen partes para acoplar ambos desag\u00fces en un sif\u00f3n compartido, a menudo con un deflector en la uni\u00f3n T, donde la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce se une con el ap\u00e9ndice del otro seno. Si va a instalar un triturador, considere la instalaci\u00f3n de sifones individuales para eliminar el deflector, que reduce a la mitad la capacidad de flujo (ver foto de la p\u00e1gina 34).\n\n**Los desag\u00fces del fregadero** incluyen un colador de canasta (A), ap\u00e9ndice (B), T de desag\u00fce continuo (C), sif\u00f3n en P o S (D), l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce (E), brazo del sif\u00f3n (F) y conexi\u00f3n de pared (G).\n  **Juegos de desag\u00fces**\n\nLos juegos para instalar un nuevo desag\u00fce de fregadero incluyen todos los tubos, uniones deslizantes y arandelas que deber\u00e1 conseguir desde los ap\u00e9ndices (la mayor\u00eda de juegos vienen para fregaderos de doble seno), hasta el brazo del sif\u00f3n que entra a la pared o el piso. Para brazos de sif\u00f3n de pared, necesitar\u00e1 un juego con un sif\u00f3n en P; para desag\u00fces de piso, necesitar\u00e1 un sif\u00f3n en S. Ambos desag\u00fces normalmente son montados para compartir un sif\u00f3n. El cobre cromado o PVC con uniones deslizantes le permitir\u00e1 ajustar el desag\u00fce m\u00e1s f\u00e1cilmente, adem\u00e1s de desarmarlo y volverlo a armar si hay un atascamiento. Los desag\u00fces y sifones del fregadero deben ser de tubos O.D. de \u00bd\" \u2014la tuber\u00eda de \u00bc\" es para servicios sanitarios y no tiene suficiente capacidad para un fregadero de cocina\u2014.\n\n  **Consejos para escoger los desag\u00fces**\n\n**El grosor de la pared del tubo** var\u00eda en los desag\u00fces de fregadero. El material pl\u00e1stico m\u00e1s delgado es m\u00e1s barato, y es m\u00e1s dif\u00edcil obtener un buen sello con la tuber\u00eda m\u00e1s gruesa y costosa. El producto delgado es mejor para desag\u00fces sanitarios, los cuales son mucho menos exigentes.\n\n**Las uniones deslizantes** son formadas apretando una tuerca deslizante macho sobre una uni\u00f3n hembra, bloqueando y comprimiendo una arandela de nailon biselada para sellar la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Use una llave** spud para apretar el cuerpo del colador contra el rev\u00e9s del seno. Normalmente, la brida del colador tiene una capa de masilla para sellar encima del desag\u00fce, y un par de arandelas (una de caucho y una fibrosa) para sellar debajo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo montar un desag\u00fce de fregadero**\n\n**Si va a reemplazar el cuerpo del colador,** quite el viejo y limpie ambos lados de la cubierta alrededor de la abertura de desag\u00fce con un disolvente. Una el ap\u00e9ndice del desag\u00fce con el extremo roscado del cuerpo del colador, insertando una arandela no biselada entre las partes si su juego de coladores incluye uno. Lubrique las roscas o aplique cinta de tefl\u00f3n de tal forma que logre un buen ajuste.\n\n**Aplique masilla alrededor** del per\u00edmetro de la abertura de desag\u00fce y coloque el colador en ella. Ponga arandelas debajo y apriete la contratuerca del colador con una llave spud (ver foto de la p\u00e1gina anterior), o golpeando las protuberancias de montaje en la parte superior con un destornillador plano.\n\n**Conecte el brazo** del sif\u00f3n con la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce macho en la pared con una tuerca deslizante y una arandela de compresi\u00f3n biselada. La salida del brazo debe apuntar hacia abajo. _Nota: el brazo debe estar m\u00e1s alto en la pared que cualquiera de las tuber\u00edas horizontales en la disposici\u00f3n, incluyendo l\u00edneas para el lavaplatos, triturador de alimentos o tuber\u00eda de salida del segundo seno._\n\n**Conecte una uni\u00f3n T** con el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce, orientando la abertura en el lado de la uni\u00f3n, de tal forma que reciba la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del otro seno. Si la T est\u00e1 m\u00e1s alta que la curva del brazo del sif\u00f3n, remu\u00e9vala y ajuste el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Una el extremo corto del tubo** de desag\u00fce con el ap\u00e9ndice del otro seno, y luego conecte el extremo largo con la abertura en la T de desag\u00fce. El tubo de salida deber\u00eda extenderse en la T aproximadamente \u00bd\" \u2014aseg\u00farese que no se extienda hasta bloquear el flujo de agua de arriba\u2014.\n\n**Una la parte larga de un sif\u00f3n en P** con la T de desag\u00fce y conecte la parte m\u00e1s corta con la abertura hacia abajo del brazo del sif\u00f3n. Ajuste todo lo que sea necesario y pruebe todas las uniones para asegurar que queden firmes, y luego ponga a prueba el sistema.\n  **Variaci\u00f3n: Desag\u00fce en el piso**\n\n**Si la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce sale del piso** en lugar de la pared, necesitar\u00e1 un sif\u00f3n en forma de S en lugar de un sif\u00f3n en P. Conecte una mitad del sif\u00f3n en S con el extremo roscado de la T de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Conecte la otra** mitad del sif\u00f3n en S con el brazo en la conexi\u00f3n con una uni\u00f3n deslizante. Debe quedar con la nueva uni\u00f3n mirando hacia abajo. Una las mitades del sif\u00f3n en S con una tuerca deslizante, recortando el extremo no roscado.\n\n###   **Lavaplatos**\n\nUn lavaplatos que haya pasado su ciclo de mayor funcionalidad puede ser ineficiente en varios aspectos. Si es un modelo antiguo, probablemente no estaba dise\u00f1ado para tener un gran rendimiento. Pero a\u00fan m\u00e1s, si ya no limpia bien, usted tal vez gastar\u00e1 mucho tiempo y agua caliente preenjuagando los platos. Esto puede consumir m\u00e1s energ\u00eda y agua que un ciclo completo de lavado en una m\u00e1quina m\u00e1s moderna. As\u00ed que incluso si su viejo lavaplatos todav\u00eda funciona, ser\u00eda magn\u00edfico reemplazarlo con un modelo nuevo y mejor.\n\nEn lo que se refiere a tama\u00f1o y montajes, los lavaplatos son generalmente est\u00e1ndar. Si su m\u00e1quina vieja est\u00e1 empotrada y las encimeras y gabinetes tienen tama\u00f1o est\u00e1ndar, la mayor\u00eda de lavaplatos encajar\u00e1n. Naturalmente, siempre debe medir las dimensiones de la unidad vieja antes de comprar una nueva para evitar una sorpresa desagradable en el momento de la instalaci\u00f3n. Tambi\u00e9n aseg\u00farese de revisar las instrucciones del fabricante antes de iniciar cualquier trabajo.\n\n**Reemplazar un lavaplatos viejo e ineficiente** es un trabajo sencillo que usualmente toma s\u00f3lo unas horas. El ahorro de energ\u00eda comienza con la primera carga de platos y contin\u00faa con cada carga siguiente.\n  **Cargado eficiente**\n\nPara lograr la mejor circulaci\u00f3n de agua que brinde una acci\u00f3n de lavado eficaz, siga estos consejos al colocar los platos:\n\n\u2022 Aseg\u00farese que los platos sean colocados de tal forma que el agua alcance las superficies sucias.\n\n\u2022 Aseg\u00farese que los elementos m\u00e1s grandes no bloqueen la acci\u00f3n del lavado en los m\u00e1s peque\u00f1os.\n\n\u2022 Ponga todos los elementos en ambos cestos de tal forma que est\u00e9n separados y miren hacia el centro del lavaplatos. Esto le ayudar\u00e1 a asegurar que el agua llegue a todas las superficies sucias.\n\n\u2022 Ponga los vasos boca abajo para permitir una adecuada acci\u00f3n de lavado\n\n\u2022 No ponga los vasos sobre los dientes, sino entre ellos. Esto permitir\u00e1 que se inclinen hacia el brazo de rociado y mejoren el lavado. Tambi\u00e9n facilitan el secado reduciendo la cantidad de agua remanente sobre el vaso despu\u00e9s de completarse el ciclo de lavado.\n\n\u2022 No permita que la vajilla se \"anide\", pues esto impide la apropiada distribuci\u00f3n de agua entre las superficies.\n\n\u2022 Coloque la vajilla, excepto los cuchillos, con algunas asas arriba y otras abajo para evitar anidamiento. Por seguridad, los cuchillos siempre deben ser colocados con el mango arriba.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar un lavaplatos ineficiente**\n\n**Comience cortando la corriente para el circuito** del lavaplatos en el tablero de servicio. Adem\u00e1s, cierre el suministro de agua en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n, usualmente localizada bajo el piso.\n\n**Desconecte las uniones de plomer\u00eda viejas.** Primero, desatornille el panel de acceso principal. Luego, desconecte la l\u00ednea de suministro de agua de la uni\u00f3n \"L\" en el fondo de la unidad. Esta es usualmente una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n met\u00e1lica, por eso s\u00f3lo hay que girar la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n en sentido contrario al de las manecillas del reloj con una llave inglesa. Use un taz\u00f3n para aparar agua que podr\u00eda salir cuando la tuerca sea removida.\n\n**Desconecte conexiones el\u00e9ctricas viejas.** El lavaplatos tiene una caja el\u00e9ctrica en el frente de la unidad donde el cable de energ\u00eda es unido a los cables del aparato. Quite la tapa de la caja y remueva los conectores que unen los cables.\n\n**Desconecte la manguera** de descarga, que usualmente est\u00e1 conectada al puerto del lavaplatos en el lado del triturador de basura. Para removerla, simplemente afloje el tornillo de la abrazadera. Tal vez necesite mover esta manguera a trav\u00e9s de un agujero en la pared del gabinete y en el compartimiento del lavaplatos para que no se atasque cuando tire de la m\u00e1quina.\n\n**Separe la parte que rodea los gabinetes** antes de sacar la unidad. Remueva los tornillos que unen los soportes con el rev\u00e9s de la encimera. Luego ponga un cart\u00f3n o un trozo de alfombra vieja debajo de las patas frontales para no rayar el piso, y saque el lavaplatos.\n\n**Primero, prepare el lavaplatos nuevo.** Incl\u00ednelo sobre su parte posterior y conecte la nueva uni\u00f3n \"L\" en el puerto roscado en el solenoide. Ponga cinta de tefl\u00f3n o aplique sellador de tuber\u00eda en la rosca de la uni\u00f3n antes de apretarla para evitar posibles fugas.\n\n**Conecte una nueva** manguera de calentador de auto, usualmente de 5\/8\" de di\u00e1metro, con el extremo de la entrerrosca de la manguera de descarga usando una abrazadera. La nueva manguera que est\u00e1 adicionando debe ir de la entrerrosca de descarga hasta el puerto en el lado del triturador de basura del fregadero.\n\n**Prepare las conexiones el\u00e9ctricas.** Al igual que el lavaplatos viejo, el nuevo tendr\u00e1 una caja el\u00e9ctrica para hacer las conexiones. Para tener acceso a esto, simplemente quite la tapa de la caja. Luego instale un conector de cable en la parte trasera de la caja y pase el cable de alimentaci\u00f3n del tablero de servicio a trav\u00e9s de este conector. La corriente deber\u00eda estar apagada a todo momento en el tablero de servicio principal.\n\n**Instale una pata** de nivelaci\u00f3n en cada una de las cuatro esquinas mientras el nuevo lavaplatos todav\u00eda est\u00e1 sobre su parte trasera. Simplemente monte las patas en los agujeros roscados dise\u00f1ados para ellas. Deje \u00bd\" de cada pata sobresaliendo desde el fondo de la unidad. \u00c9stas tendr\u00e1n que ser ajustadas despu\u00e9s para nivelar el aparato. Ponga \u00e9ste sobre sus patas y desl\u00edcelo en la abertura. Revise el nivel en ambas direcciones y ajuste las patas si es necesario.\n\n**Una vez que el lavaplatos est\u00e9 nivelado,** una los soportes con el rev\u00e9s de la encimera para evitar que se mueva. Luego meta la manguera de descarga en el gabinete del fregadero e inst\u00e1lela de tal forma que una parte est\u00e9 sujeta al rev\u00e9s de la encimera con una abrazadera. Esta curva evita que agua de desecho fluya del triturador hacia el lavaplatos.\n\n**Empuje el adaptador** sobre el niple de descarga del triturador y suj\u00e9telo con una abrazadera. Si no tiene triturador, esta manguera de descarga puede ser conectada directamente a un ap\u00e9ndice del fregadero modificado que es instalado debajo de un colador est\u00e1ndar.\n\n**Ajuste la uni\u00f3n \"L\"** en la v\u00e1lvula de admisi\u00f3n del lavaplatos hasta que apunte hacia el tubo de suministro de agua. Luego lubrique las roscas ligeramente con una gota de l\u00edquido para lavar platos y apriete la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n del tubo sobre la uni\u00f3n. Use una llave inglesa y gire la tuerca en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj.\n\n**Complete las conexiones** el\u00e9ctricas apretando la abrazadera del conector sobre el cable y una los cables de energ\u00eda con los del aparato usando conectores. Conecte el cable (o cables) de toma a tierra con el tornillo a tierra en la caja, y ponga la tapa.\n\n**Instale el panel de acceso,** usualmente acopl\u00e1ndolo con un par de puntas debajo de la puerta del lavaplatos. Instale los tornillos (si hay) que lo aseguran, y active los suministros de agua y energ\u00eda. Coloque el panel inferior en la parte baja del lavaplatos.\n  **Alargar una manguera de descarga**\n\n**Si la manguera de descarga** debe ser modificada para que se ajuste al puerto del triturador, primero introduzca un trozo 4\" de tubo de cobre de \u00bd\" en la manguera y suj\u00e9tela con una abrazadera. Esto forma un niple para el adaptador de caucho que encaja en el triturador.\n\n**Sujete el adaptador de caucho** del triturador al extremo del niple del tubo de cobre. Luego apriete bien la abrazadera.\n\n###   **Trituradores de alimentos**\n\nLos trituradores de alimentos se han convertido en aparatos b\u00e1sicos en los hogares modernos, y la mayor\u00eda de nosotros ha llegado a depender de ellos para macerar los restos de comida de tal forma que salgan de la casa junto con el agua de desecho desde el desag\u00fce del fregadero. Si su triturador actual necesita ser cambiado, descubrir\u00e1 que el proceso es relativamente sencillo, especialmente si escoge un aparato que sea el mismo modelo del antiguo. En ese caso, probablemente usar\u00e1 de nuevo el montaje, manguito de desag\u00fce y plomer\u00eda existentes.\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de trituradores de alimentos son clasificados como de \"alimentaci\u00f3n continua\", porque s\u00f3lo funcionan cuando un interruptor ON\/OFF sobre la pared se mantiene oprimido; al soltarlo, el triturador se detiene. Cada aparato tiene una potencia que oscila entre 1\/3 y 1 HP (horsepower o caballo de fuerza). Los modelos m\u00e1s potentes se atascan menos bajo carga y los motores duran m\u00e1s porque no tienen que trabajar el extremo; tenga en cuenta que tambi\u00e9n son m\u00e1s costosos.\n\nLos trituradores son conectados directamente a un interruptor montado en una caja el\u00e9ctrica en la pared sobre la encimera. Si su cocina no est\u00e1 equipada para esto, consulte una gu\u00eda de electricidad o contrate a un electricista. El montaje el\u00e9ctrico del aparato es muy sencillo (s\u00f3lo tiene que unir dos cables), pero contrate a un experto si no se siente c\u00f3modo con el trabajo.\n\n**Un triturador de alimentos usado correctamente,** ayuda a reducir atascamientos al asegurar que trozos grandes de materia org\u00e1nica no caigan en el sistema de desag\u00fce por accidente. Muchos plomeros sugieren usar sifones en P separados para el triturador y el tubo de desag\u00fce como es mostrado aqu\u00ed.\n\n**Un eliminador de** alimentos tritura desechos de comida de tal forma que puedan ser evacuados por el sistema de desag\u00fce del fregadero. Un triturador de calidad tiene un motor de inversi\u00f3n autom\u00e1tica de \u00bd caballo de fuerza (horsepower) que no se atasca. Otras caracter\u00edsticas favorables incluyen aislamiento contra ruido, un anillo de trituraci\u00f3n, y protecci\u00f3n de sobrecarga que permite que el motor sea restaurado si se recalienta. Los mejores tienen una garant\u00eda de 5 a\u00f1os.\n\n**El triturador es unido directamente** al manguito del fregadero, que viene con el aparato y reemplaza al colador est\u00e1ndar. Una arandela de presi\u00f3n encaja en una ranura alrededor del manguito del cuerpo del colador para evitar que el anillo de montaje superior y el anillo de soporte se deslicen mientras el anillo superior es apretado contra el anillo de soporte con tornillos de montaje. Una empaquetadura de fibra cierra la conexi\u00f3n debajo del fregadero.\n\n**Las tes de cocina y desag\u00fce** deben tener un deflector si la te es conectada a un lavaplatos o triturador. El deflector est\u00e1 destinado a impedir que la descarga suba por el desag\u00fce hasta el fregadero. Sin embargo, tambi\u00e9n reduce a la mitad la capacidad de flujo de desag\u00fce, lo cual puede hacer que el lavaplatos o el triturador se atasquen. De acuerdo a la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos, no puede simplemente reemplazar la te con otra que no tenga deflector. La forma m\u00e1s segura de manejar el problema es conectar desag\u00fces y sifones separados a una uni\u00f3n Y en el brazo del sif\u00f3n (como es mostrado en la p\u00e1gina anterior).\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un triturador de alimentos**\n\n**Remueva el viejo si ya tiene uno.** Primero tiene que desconectar los tubos de desag\u00fce y los sifones. Si su triturador viejo tiene una llave especial para las agarraderas de montaje, \u00fasela para aflojarlos. De otra manera, use un destornillador. Si no tiene un ayudante, ponga un objeto s\u00f3lido justo debajo del triturador para apoyarlo antes de removerlo. _Importante: corte la energ\u00eda el\u00e9ctrica en el tablero de servicio principal antes de iniciar la remoci\u00f3n. Desconecte los cables el\u00e9ctricos, c\u00fabralos y m\u00e9talos en la caja el\u00e9ctrica._\n  **Consejo**\n\n**Alternativa:** Si va a instalar un triturador en un fregadero que no lo ten\u00eda, remueva el colador viejo junto al ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce. Quite la masilla vieja y limpie bien el fregadero alrededor de la abertura de desag\u00fce con un disolvente.\n\n**Limpie los tubos de desag\u00fce** hasta la l\u00ednea de empalme antes de iniciar la nueva instalaci\u00f3n. Primero que todo remueva el sif\u00f3n y el brazo del sif\u00f3n.\n\n**Desarme el montaje** y luego separe los anillos superior e inferior y el anillo de soporte. Tambi\u00e9n remueva la arandela de presi\u00f3n del manguito del fregadero. Ver foto de la p\u00e1gina anterior.\n\n**Presione la brida del manguito** de su nuevo triturador en la masilla que ha puesto alrededor del per\u00edmetro de la abertura de desag\u00fce. El manguito debe quedar bien asentado en la masilla.\n\n**Deslice la empaquetadura de fibra** y luego el anillo de soporte sobre el manguito, haga esto desde el interior del gabinete del fregadero. Aseg\u00farese que el anillo de soporte est\u00e9 orientado como estaba antes de desarmar el montaje.\n\n**Introduzca el anillo de montaje superior** en el manguito con los extremos ranurados de los tornillos puestos de tal forma que tenga libre acceso a ellos. Luego, cogiendo las tres partes en el tope del manguito, deslice la arandela de presi\u00f3n en \u00e9ste hasta que empalme en la ranura. Apriete los tres tornillos de montaje sobre el anillo superior hasta que las puntas presionen firmemente contra el anillo de soporte (foto del recuadro). La presi\u00f3n creada por estos tornillos es la que mantiene firme el triturador y minimiza la vibraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Haga las conexiones el\u00e9ctricas** antes de montar el triturador. Corte la energ\u00eda en el tablero de servicio si la tiene prendida. Quite la placa de acceso del aparato. Una los cables conductores de la caja el\u00e9ctrica, blanco y negro, con los cables del respectivo color dentro del triturador. Haga una peque\u00f1a tapa de alambre sobre cada conexi\u00f3n y envu\u00e9lvala con cinta aislante. Tambi\u00e9n conecte el cable a tierra de la caja con el terminal de tierra en el triturador.\n\n**Remueva de un golpe el tap\u00f3n** en el orificio del triturador si va a conectar el lavaplatos. Si no tiene esta m\u00e1quina, deje quieto el tap\u00f3n. Introduzca un destornillador de cabeza plana en la abertura del orificio y golp\u00e9elo con un mazo. Recupere el tap\u00f3n dentro del triturador.\n\n**Cuelgue el triturador** en el anillo de montaje unido al manguito. Para hacerlo, simplemente lev\u00e1ntelo y col\u00f3quelo de tal forma que las tres agarraderas de montaje queden debajo de los tres tornillos y luego gire la unidad para que las tres agarraderas encajen en el montaje. Espere hasta que las conexiones de plomer\u00eda sean hechas para fijar la unidad.\n\n**Conecte el tubo de descarga** en el triturador seg\u00fan las instrucciones del fabricante. Es importante obtener un buen sello aqu\u00ed, o el aparato tendr\u00e1 fugas. Gire el triturador si esto le ayuda a tener acceso directo al orificio de descarga.\n\n**Una la Y con la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce.** La uni\u00f3n Y debe tener un tama\u00f1o que reciba una l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del triturador y otra del fregadero. Ajuste la instalaci\u00f3n de desag\u00fce del fregadero lo que sea necesario para llegar del sif\u00f3n en P a una abertura de la Y.\n\n**Instale un brazo de sif\u00f3n para el triturador** en el orificio abierto de la uni\u00f3n Y en la conexi\u00f3n de la pared. Luego conecte una uni\u00f3n en P o la combinaci\u00f3n de una extensi\u00f3n y un sif\u00f3n en P de tal forma que el extremo bajo de \u00e9ste se alinie con el fondo del tubo de descarga del triturador.\n\n**Gire el triturador** hasta que el extremo del tubo de descarga quede alineado sobre el extremo abierto del sif\u00f3n en P y confirme que encajen correctamente. Si el tubo de descarga se extiende demasiado, marque una l\u00ednea sobre \u00e9l en el extremo del sif\u00f3n en P y corte en la l\u00ednea con una sierra para metales. Si el tubo es muy corto, ponga una extensi\u00f3n con una uni\u00f3n deslizante. Tal vez deba primero acortar m\u00e1s el tubo de descarga a fin de crear suficiente espacio para la uni\u00f3n deslizante en la extensi\u00f3n. Introduzca una tuerca deslizante y una arandela de compresi\u00f3n en el tubo de descarga y conecte \u00e9ste con el sif\u00f3n en P.\n\n**Conecte el tubo de descarga** del lavaplatos en el orificio de entrada localizado en la parte superior del triturador. Esto puede requerir equipo de montaje del lavaplatos (ver p\u00e1gina 30).\n\n**Fije el triturador en el anillo de montaje** una vez que se haya asegurado que funciona correctamente y sin fugas. H\u00e1galo girando uno de las agarraderas de montaje con un destornillador hasta que haga contacto con la muesca de cierre.\n\n###   **Calentadores de agua**\n\nReemplazar un calentador de agua es un trabajo que puede hacer usted mismo. Es relativamente f\u00e1cil siempre que sea un cambio por elementos similares. La situaci\u00f3n ideal ser\u00eda reemplazar la unidad vieja con una del mismo tama\u00f1o y modelo, evitando mover l\u00edneas de gas, agua o electricidad. Pero si decide aumentar o disminuir el tama\u00f1o, o tal vez reemplazar un viejo calentador el\u00e9ctrico por uno a gas que cuesta menos usarlo, descubrir\u00e1 que reubicar las l\u00edneas necesarias no es tan dif\u00edcil.\n\nSe cree que un calentador de agua deber\u00eda durar alrededor de 10 a\u00f1os. La longevidad depende de muchos factores, incluyendo la calidad, niveles de uso, mantenimiento y otras causas como por ejemplo, la dureza del agua. Aunque el objetivo de todos es aprovechar al m\u00e1ximo estos aparatos, tambi\u00e9n es innegable que el mejor momento para reemplazar un calentador de agua es no esperar que empiece a tener fugas y llene de agua el s\u00f3tano. Es un poco incierto, pero cuando su calentador viejo empiece a mostrar se\u00f1ales de desgaste y tenga un funcionamiento muy irregular, no dude en hacer el cambio.\n\nLos calentadores de agua para residencias oscilan en tama\u00f1o entre 30 y 65 galones. Para una familia de cuatro personas, un modelo de 40 \u00f3 50 galones deber\u00eda ser suficiente. Aunque no querr\u00e1 que se agote el agua caliente cada ma\u00f1ana, tampoco desear\u00e1 pagar por calentar m\u00e1s l\u00edquido del que utiliza. Tome las decisiones analizando si su calentador actual est\u00e1 cumpliendo con todas las exigencias requeridas en su hogar.\n\n**Los calentadores de agua** t\u00edpicamente duran unos 10 a\u00f1os, pero una vez que empiezan a mostrar se\u00f1ales de envejecimiento, es buena idea reemplazarlos por un aparato nuevo y de mayor rendimiento.\n\n**La placa sobre el costado de un calentador de agua** indica la capacidad del tanque, valor R de aislamiento y presi\u00f3n de operaci\u00f3n (libras por pulgada cuadrada). Calentadores de mayor rendimiento tienen un valor R de 7 o m\u00e1s alto. La placa de un calentador el\u00e9ctrico incluye el voltaje y el vataje de los elementos calentadores y termostatos. Los calentadores de agua tambi\u00e9n tienen una etiqueta de eficiencia energ\u00e9tica amarilla que indica los costos de operaci\u00f3n anuales.\n\n**Use cable blindado** o alambres en conductos met\u00e1licos para llevar la corriente a los calentadores el\u00e9ctricos. El cable blindado o conducto debe entrar por la parte superior de la unidad a trav\u00e9s de una abrazadera de conducto.\n\n**Use tuber\u00eda negra roscada** para hacer la conexi\u00f3n de gas en el calentador. Otros conectores, incluyendo los de cobre flexible o acero inoxidable, no son permitidos por algunos c\u00f3digos y no son tan fuertes. La tuber\u00eda negra puede ser suplida por otros materiales tales como el cobre blando. La construcci\u00f3n b\u00e1sica involucra tres niples roscados de 6\" una T, un tap\u00f3n y una uni\u00f3n para conectar la l\u00ednea de suministro.\n\n**Si su casa tiene tuber\u00eda de gas de cobre flexible,** utilice una uni\u00f3n abocinada para conectar un niple roscado adicional en la tuber\u00eda negra que conecte con el regulador del calentador. Si tiene tuber\u00eda de suministro negra, use una uni\u00f3n como la que aparece en la foto anterior.\n\n**Los calentadores de agua a gas** operan con propano o gas natural y generalmente su funcionamiento es muy econ\u00f3mico, pero cuestan un poco m\u00e1s que los el\u00e9ctricos. La siguiente instalaci\u00f3n muestra un calentador a gas. Averig\u00fce con las autoridades de construcci\u00f3n de su localidad si los propietarios est\u00e1n autorizados para instalar aparatos a gas.\n\n**Los calentadores de agua el\u00e9ctricos requieren** 240 voltios **,** que podr\u00edan sobrecargar el tablero de servicio si est\u00e1 reemplazando un calentador a gas con un modelo el\u00e9ctrico. La principal ventaja de \u00e9ste es que es m\u00e1s barato al comprarlo (mas no en su costo de operaci\u00f3n) y no requiere que usted haga conexiones de gas.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un calentador de agua a gas**\n\n**Corte el suministro de gas** en la llave de paso instalada en la l\u00ednea de gas m\u00e1s cercana al calentador. La manija de la llave debe quedar perpendicular al tubo de gas.\n\n**Drene el agua del calentador viejo** conectando una manguera de jard\u00edn en el grifo exterior y ll\u00e9vela hasta el desag\u00fce de piso. Si no tiene este desag\u00fce, eche el agua en baldes. Para su seguridad personal, espere hasta que el calentador haya estado apagado un par de horas antes de drenarlo.\n\n**Desconecte el suministro de gas del calentador.** Para hacerlo, afloje la uni\u00f3n abocinada con dos llaves inglesas o alicates en una tuber\u00eda de cobre blando, o afloje la uni\u00f3n con dos llaves para tubos en el caso de tuber\u00eda negra (foto anexa).\n\n**Desconecte el tubo de ventilaci\u00f3n** de la campana extractora retirando los tornillos de hoja met\u00e1lica que conectan las partes. Tambi\u00e9n remueva los tubos conectados encima, incluyendo el codo, a fin poder examinar si tienen corrosi\u00f3n y reemplazarlos si es necesario.\n\n**Corte los tubos de agua.** Antes de hacerlo, cierre el suministro de agua fr\u00eda en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n cerca del calentador o en el contador. Examine la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n. Si no es una v\u00e1lvula de bola en buenas condiciones, reempl\u00e1cela.\n  **Consejo**\n\n**Prepare el nuevo calentador para la instalaci\u00f3n.** Antes de ponerlo en su lugar, coloque una v\u00e1lvula de escape T&P en la abertura para la v\u00e1lvula. Aseg\u00farese de leer las instrucciones del fabricante y compre el tipo de v\u00e1lvula recomendado. Lubrique las roscas y apriete la v\u00e1lvula en la abertura con una llave para tubos. _Nota: el calentador mostrado en esta secuencia viene con una v\u00e1lvula de escape T &P que est\u00e1 preinstalada._\n\n**Remueva el calentador viejo y desh\u00e1gase de \u00e9l** adecuadamente. La mayor\u00eda de empresas de recolecci\u00f3n de basuras se encargar\u00e1 del aparato por una suma extra de dinero. Simplemente no lo deje en la acera a menos que sepa que es permitido por el departamento de recolecci\u00f3n de desechos municipal. Aqu\u00ed es de gran ayuda una carretilla de dos ruedas. Los calentadores de agua usualmente pesan alrededor de 150 libras.\n\n**Coloque la unidad en el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n.** Si tiene un piso que desea proteger de fugas, p\u00f3ngala sobre una cubeta de goteo (disponible donde venden accesorios de calentador). Las cubetas (poco profundas) tienen un grifo para conectar una l\u00ednea desde la cubeta hasta un desag\u00fce de piso. Si el calentador no est\u00e1 nivelado, niv\u00e9lelo con una cu\u00f1a met\u00e1lica o compuesta. Observe que necesitar\u00e1 mover un poco la unidad a fin de tener espacio para instalar los conectores de suministro de agua (paso 13).\n\n**Conecte un tubo de descarga en la v\u00e1lvula** de escape T&P. Puede usar tuber\u00eda de cobre o tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce CPVC. Corte el tubo de tal forma que el extremo libre quede 6\" por encima del piso. Si tiene recubrimientos de piso que desea proteger, adicione un codo de 90 grados y un tubo de desag\u00fce de cobre que vaya del tubo de descarga a un desag\u00fce de piso.\n\n**Fabrique conectores de agua con tubos de cobre,** adaptadores de cobre roscados y niples galvanizados revestidos de pl\u00e1stico. Estos \u00faltimos (foto del recuadro) reducen la corrosi\u00f3n que puede ocurrir cuando se unen dos metales dis\u00edmiles. Mida el tama\u00f1o de los montajes de tal forma que apenas lleguen a la tuber\u00eda de suministro de cobre los conectores puedan ser introducidos en los orificios del calentador.\n\n**Instale los conectores en el orificio de entrada** de agua fr\u00eda (aseg\u00farese de usar el niple revestido azul) y el orificio de salida de agua caliente (niple rojo) sobre el calentador. Lubrique las roscas de los niples y apriete con alicates tipo canal. Deslice un acople de reparaci\u00f3n de cobre sobre cada conector y acomode la unidad de tal forma que se alinien los tubos de suministro y los conectores.\n\n**Una los conectores a los tubos** de suministro con acoples de reparaci\u00f3n de cobre deslizantes. Primero aseg\u00farese de limpiar y cebar las partes.\n\n**Vuelva a armar el tubo de ventilaci\u00f3n** con un nuevo codo (si el viejo necesitaba ser cambiado, ver paso 4, p\u00e1gina 43). Corte el conducto que baja del codo para que encaje bien sobre la brida superior de la campana extractora.\n\n**Una el extremo** vertical del tubo de ventilaci\u00f3n con la campana extractora usando tornillos de l\u00e1mina de metal de 3\/8\".\n\n**Instale las partes para el montaje de tuber\u00eda negra** (ver foto p\u00e1gina 41). Use pasta selladora para lubricar todas las uniones. Primero conecte una T en un extremo de un niple de 3\" y conecte el otro extremo en el orificio del regulador hembra. Una un tap\u00f3n con otro niple de 6\" y luego conecte el otro extremo en la abertura inferior de la T para formar una pata de goteo. Instale un tercer niple en la abertura superior de la T.\n\n**Conecte la l\u00ednea de suministro de gas** en el extremo abierto del conector. Use una uni\u00f3n para conexiones de tuber\u00eda negra de gas y una uni\u00f3n abocinada para conexiones de cobre. Ver p\u00e1ginas 41 a  para m\u00e1s informaci\u00f3n sobre c\u00f3mo hacer estas conexiones.\n\n**Pruebe las conexiones.** Abra el suministro de gas y examine las conexiones con soluci\u00f3n de prueba (ver p\u00e1gina 315). Antes de abrir el suministro de agua, compruebe que la v\u00e1lvula de desag\u00fce del tanque est\u00e9 cerrada. Deje llenar el tanque y luego abra un grifo de agua caliente hasta que salga agua (naturalmente, \u00e9sta todav\u00eda no estar\u00e1 caliente). Examine visualmente todas las uniones para ver si hay fugas.\n\n**Encienda el piloto.** Usualmente este es un proceso de varios pasos que var\u00eda entre fabricantes, pero todos los nuevos calentadores tienen instrucciones de encendido del piloto en una etiqueta cerca de los controles. Ajuste la posici\u00f3n de la temperatura del agua.\n  **Consejo: Conectar calentadores de agua el\u00e9ctricos**\n\n**La conexi\u00f3n de suministro de combustible** es la \u00fanica parte de la instalaci\u00f3n de un calentador el\u00e9ctrico que difiere de instalar un calentador a gas, salvo que los el\u00e9ctricos no requieren un tubo de ventilaci\u00f3n. Los alambres conductores (240 voltios) son entrelazados con uniones para cables en el panel de acceso localizado en la parte superior de la unidad.\n\n**Los ajustes de temperatura en calentadores** el\u00e9ctricos son hechos apretando o aflojando un tornillo de ajuste del termostato localizado cerca del elemento calentador. Corte siempre la corriente a la unidad antes de hacer la modificaci\u00f3n. En esta foto puede ver lo cerca que est\u00e1n del termostato los terminales cargados para el elemento calentador.\n\n###   **Grifos del cuarto de ba\u00f1o**\n\nLos grifos de una pieza, con una o dos manijas, son los m\u00e1s populares para instalaciones en ba\u00f1os.\n\nSin embargo, los grifos \"extendidos\" con pico y manijas separados est\u00e1n siendo instalados con mayor frecuencia. Debido a que las manijas son conectadas al pico con tubos flexibles de 18\" o m\u00e1s largos, los grifos extendidos pueden ser dispuestos en muchas formas.\n\n**Los grifos del ba\u00f1o** vienen en dos estilos b\u00e1sicos: el extendido con manijas y pico independientes (arriba); y la versi\u00f3n de una sola pieza, montado en la cubierta (abajo).\n\n####   **Grifo del ba\u00f1o y conexiones de desag\u00fce**\n\n**Los grifos de lavamanos extendidos** tienen v\u00e1lvulas independientes del pico, de tal forma que pueden ser dispuestas como se desee, siempre que los tubos flexibles conectores sean lo suficientemente largos para abarcar la distancia.\n\n**Los grifos de lavamanos** de un solo cuerpo tienen ambas v\u00e1lvulas y el pico permanentemente conectados al cuerpo del grifo. No brindan flexibilidad en las configuraciones, pero son f\u00e1ciles de instalar.\n\n**El tap\u00f3n encaja en la abertura de desag\u00fce** y se cierra fuertemente contra la brida de desag\u00fce cuando la manija es levantada.\n\n**El acoplamiento que conecta** el tap\u00f3n con la manija, encaja en un orificio roscado macho en el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce. Ocasionalmente el acoplamiento requerir\u00e1 ajuste o cambio.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un grifo extendido**\n\n**Introduzca el v\u00e1stago del pico del grifo** a trav\u00e9s de uno de los agujeros en la cubierta del fregadero (usualmente el del centro, pero puede ponerlo en uno de los agujeros de los extremos si lo prefiere). Si el grifo no est\u00e1 equipado con empaques o anillos \"O\" para el pico y las manijas, ponga masilla sobre los reveses antes de introducir las v\u00e1lvulas en la cubierta. _Nota: si va a instalar el grifo extendido en una nueva cubierta, haga tres agujeros del tama\u00f1o sugerido por el fabricante._\n\n**Adem\u00e1s de las tuercas de montaje,** muchas v\u00e1lvulas para grifos extendidos tienen una uni\u00f3n de apertura-retenci\u00f3n que va entre el rev\u00e9s de la cubierta y la tuerca de montaje. Otros tienen solamente una tuerca de montaje. En cualquier caso, apriete la tuerca con alicates o una llave lavaplatos para asegurar la v\u00e1lvula. Tal vez necesite un ayudante para mantener centrado el pico en la posici\u00f3n correcta.\n\n**Monte las v\u00e1lvulas en la cubierta** usando el m\u00e9todo que especifique el fabricante (var\u00eda mucho). En el modelo visto aqu\u00ed, un anillo de montaje es puesto sobre el agujero de la cubierta (con sello de masilla), y la v\u00e1lvula es introducida desde abajo. Una grapa se cierra sobre la v\u00e1lvula desde arriba para asegurarla temporalmente (necesitar\u00e1 un ayudante para esto).\n\n**Desde abajo,** introduzca las tuercas de montaje que fijan las v\u00e1lvulas en la cubierta. Aseg\u00farese que la v\u00e1lvula de agua fr\u00eda (usualmente tiene un cartucho azul dentro) est\u00e9 en el agujero derecho (visto desde el frente) y la v\u00e1lvula de agua caliente (cartucho rojo) en el agujero izquierdo. Instale ambas v\u00e1lvulas.\n\n**Una vez que haya metido la tuerca** en el v\u00e1stago roscado de la v\u00e1lvula, asegure \u00e9sta con una llave lavaplatos, apretando las agarraderas donde encaja contra la cubierta. Use una llave inglesa para terminar de apretar la contratuerca en la v\u00e1lvula. Las v\u00e1lvulas deben estar orientadas de tal forma que las salidas de agua est\u00e9n dirigidas hacia la entrada en el v\u00e1stago.\n\n**Conecte los tubos de suministro flexibles** (que vienen con el grifo) en las salidas de agua en las v\u00e1lvulas. Algunos se enroscan en las salidas, pero otros (como los de esta foto) se acoplan a presi\u00f3n. Las mangueras se encuentran en una T que es unida a la entrada de agua en el pico.\n\n**Conecte los tubos flexibles ascendentes** de metal trenzado en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n, y luego \u00fanalos al orificio de entrada en cada v\u00e1lvula (usualmente con cinta de tefl\u00f3n y una uni\u00f3n en el extremo de la v\u00e1lvula del tubo ascendente).\n\n**Instale el pico.** El modelo mostrado aqu\u00ed viene con una llave hexagonal especial que es metida a trav\u00e9s del agujero en el pico donde la barra de alzar para el desag\u00fce estar\u00e1 colocada. Una vez que el pico est\u00e9 bien ajustado sobre el v\u00e1stago, apriete la llave hexagonal para asegurarlo. Diferentes grifos usar\u00e1n otros m\u00e9todos para fijar el pico en el v\u00e1stago.\n\n**Si su lavamanos no ten\u00eda un tap\u00f3n,** deber\u00e1 reemplazar el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce con un cuerpo de tap\u00f3n (a menudo suplido con el grifo). Ver p\u00e1gina 243. Introduzca la barra de alzar a trav\u00e9s del agujero del pico y, desde abajo, inserte la barra de pivote a trav\u00e9s del asiento para el tornillo de la barra ajustable.\n\n**Conecte la barra ajustable** en la barra de pivote que entra en el cuerpo de desag\u00fce, y ajuste la posici\u00f3n de la barra ajustable para que suba o baje adecuadamente cuando la barra de alzar sea movida. Apriete el tornillo de la barra ajustable en este punto. Aqu\u00ed es dif\u00edcil usar un destornillador; tal vez necesite una llave inglesa o alicates.\n\n**Conecte las manijas en las v\u00e1lvulas** usando el m\u00e9todo requerido por el fabricante del grifo. La mayor\u00eda de grifos est\u00e1n dise\u00f1ados con m\u00e9todos de registro para asegurar que las manijas sean sim\u00e9tricas y orientadas de forma ergon\u00f3mica una vez que las fije en las v\u00e1lvulas.\n\n**Abra el suministro de agua y pruebe el grifo.** Remueva el aireador para eliminar detritos que haya en las l\u00edneas.\n  **Variaci\u00f3n: C\u00f3mo instalar un grifo de un solo cuerpo**\n\n**La mayor\u00eda de grifos** vienen con una empaquetadura pl\u00e1stica o de caucho para sellar la base del grifo con la cubierta. Estas empaquetaduras no siempre forman un sello herm\u00e9tico. Si quiere asegurar que no se filtre agua debajo del lavamanos, descarte el sello y presione un anillo de masilla en la ranura sellante en la parte inferior del grifo.\n\n**Introduzca los ap\u00e9ndices del grifo** a trav\u00e9s de los agujeros del lavamanos. Desde abajo, inserte arandelas y tuercas de montaje en los ap\u00e9ndices, luego apriete bien las tuercas con una llave lavaplatos. Ponga un poco de compuesto para uni\u00f3n de tuber\u00eda en las roscas de las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n e introduzca en ellas las tuercas met\u00e1licas de los tubos ascendentes flexibles. Apriete con llave medio giro despu\u00e9s de apretar con la mano. SI aprieta demasiado estropear\u00e1 las roscas. Apriete las tuercas de acoplamiento en los ap\u00e9ndices del grifo con una llave lavaplatos.\n\n**Deslice la barra se alzar del nuevo grifo** en su agujero detr\u00e1s del pico. Introd\u00fazcala en la barra ajustable pasando el tornillo de \u00e9sta. Baje la barra de pivote toda la distancia de tal forma que el tap\u00f3n sea abierto. Con la barra de alzar tambi\u00e9n abajo, apriete en ella la barra ajustable.\n\n**Engrase los v\u00e1stagos** estriados de las v\u00e1lvulas con grasa antit\u00e9rmica, luego fije las manijas. Ponga una gota de Loctite en cada tornillo de manija antes de apretarlo. (Esto evitar\u00e1 que las manijas se aflojen). Cubra cada tornillo con el bot\u00f3n indicador apropiado\u2014para agua caliente o fr\u00eda\u2014.\n\n**Desatornille el aireador en el extremo del pico.** Gire totalmente las llaves de agua caliente y fr\u00eda. Abra el flujo en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n y deje correr el agua un par de minutos antes de cerrar el grifo. Revise si hay goteos en las conexiones de los tubos ascendentes. Apriete una tuerca de compresi\u00f3n s\u00f3lo hasta que el goteo se detenga.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un desag\u00fce**\n\n**Ponga un taz\u00f3n debajo del sif\u00f3n para aparar agua.** Afloje las tuercas en la salida y entrada del sif\u00f3n en forma de J, con la mano o con alicates tipo canal para remover el codo. El sif\u00f3n saldr\u00e1 del ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce cuando las tuercas est\u00e9n flojas. Tenga presente la orientaci\u00f3n de arandelas y tuercas dej\u00e1ndolas en los tubos.\n\n**Desatornille la tapa** cogiendo la r\u00f3tula y la barra de pivote en el cuerpo de desag\u00fce y retire la bola. Comprima el cierre de resorte sobre la barra ajustable y saque de \u00e9sta la barra de pivote.\n\n**Remueva el tap\u00f3n.** Luego, desde abajo, quite la contratuerca del cuerpo del tap\u00f3n. Si es necesario, evite que la brida gire introduciendo un destornillador grande en el desag\u00fce. Tire del cuerpo del tap\u00f3n a trav\u00e9s del agujero para quitar la brida del lavamanos, y luego remueva la brida y el cuerpo del tap\u00f3n.\n\n**Limpie la abertura** de desag\u00fce arriba y abajo, y luego introduzca la contratuerca en el nuevo cuerpo de desag\u00fce, seguida por la arandela plana y la empaquetadura de caucho (lado biselado arriba). Envuelva tres capas de cinta de tefl\u00f3n en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj sobre la parte superior del cuerpo roscado. Haga un anillo de masilla de \u00bd\" de di\u00e1metro y p\u00e9guelo debajo de la brida del desag\u00fce.\n\n**Desde abajo,** mire la abertura de la barra de pivote directamente hacia el medio del grifo y tire del cuerpo hacia abajo para ajustar la brida. Inserte el conjunto contratuerca\/arandela debajo del lavamanos, luego apriete la contratuerca con alicates tipo canal. No gire la brida en el proceso, ya que puede estropear el sello de masilla. Limpie la masilla alrededor de la brida.\n\n**Suelte el tap\u00f3n en el agujero de desag\u00fce,** de tal forma que el orificio de la parte inferior est\u00e9 m\u00e1s cerca de la parte trasera del lavamanos. Ponga la arandela de nailon biselada en la abertura en la parte posterior del cuerpo de desag\u00fce con el bisel mirando hacia atr\u00e1s.\n\n**Ponga la tapa detr\u00e1s de la r\u00f3tula** en la barra de pivote como es mostrado. Sujete un agujero en la barra ajustable con el cierre de resorte y meta el extremo largo de la barra de pivote a trav\u00e9s del cierre y la barra ajustable. Introduzca la r\u00f3tula de la barra de pivote en la abertura del cuerpo de desag\u00fce y en el orificio en el cuerpo del tap\u00f3n. Atornille la tapa en el cuerpo de desag\u00fce sobre la r\u00f3tula.\n\n**Afloje el tornillo de la barra ajustable** que sujeta \u00e9sta a la barra de alzar. Empuje la barra de pivote completamente (lo cual abre el tap\u00f3n). Con la barra de alzar tambi\u00e9n abajo, apriete en ella el tornillo de la barra ajustable. Si \u00e9sta choca con la parte superior del sif\u00f3n, ac\u00f3rtelo con la sierra para metales o tijeras de hojalatero. Vuelva a armar el sif\u00f3n en forma de J.\n\n###   **Juegos de duchas**\n\nLa forma m\u00e1s r\u00e1pida y f\u00e1cil de crear una nueva ducha en el cuarto de ba\u00f1o es enmarcar el \u00e1rea de la misma con maderos y cart\u00f3n tabla y luego instalar el juego para ducha. Los juegos consisten t\u00edpicamente en tres paredes pl\u00e1sticas o de fibra de vidrio que se unen en las esquinas y se insertan dentro de los rebordes del recept\u00e1culo de la ducha para crear sellos mec\u00e1nicos casi infalibles. A menudo, las paredes son formadas con anaqueles, jaboneras suspendidas y otras comodidades.\n\nSi no tiene mucho presupuesto, puede encontrar juegos muy econ\u00f3micos para disminuir los costos. Incluso puede crearlo a su gusto usando paneles de porex impermeables y conectores de presi\u00f3n. Tambi\u00e9n puede invertir en uno de mayor calidad hecho de material m\u00e1s grueso que durar\u00e1 mucho m\u00e1s tiempo.\n\nAlgunos juegos son vendidos con el receptor e incluso con la puerta incluida. El que es mostrado aqu\u00ed est\u00e1 dise\u00f1ado para ser unido directamente a montantes, pero otros requieren una pared de soporte. Los paneles son pegados a \u00e9sta con adhesivo de alta adherencia.\n\n**Una ducha con paneles** es econ\u00f3mica y f\u00e1cil de instalar. Son dise\u00f1adas para instalaciones de alcoves (nichos, rincones apartados), a menudo son vendidas con recept\u00e1culos (llamados receptores).\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un juego de ducha**\n\n**Marque la ubicaci\u00f3n de la ducha,** incluyendo nuevos muros, sobre el piso y las paredes. La mayor\u00eda de juegos pueden ser instalados sobre cart\u00f3n tabla, pero usualmente se logra un acabado de apariencia m\u00e1s profesional si remueve el tapizado de pared y el recubrimiento de piso en el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n. Desh\u00e1gase de los materiales en seguida y limpie bien el \u00e1rea.\n\n**Si va a adicionar una pared para crear el alcove,** trace las localizaciones de los montantes y la plomer\u00eda sobre una nueva viga de madera. Tambi\u00e9n m\u00e1rquelas en la placa de conexi\u00f3n que ser\u00e1 pegada al techo. Dir\u00edjase a las instrucciones del juego para ver las ubicaciones y dimensiones exactas de los montantes. Instale la viga al piso con tornillos para cubierta y adhesivo para paneles, asegur\u00e1ndose que quede en \u00e1ngulo recto con la pared trasera y en la distancia correcta de la pared lateral.\n\n**Alinee un montante de 2 \u00d7 4** recto junto a la viga de madera en la base y haga una marca en el techo. Use un nivel para extender esa l\u00ednea directamente arriba de la base. Pegue la placa de conexi\u00f3n en ese punto.\n\n**Instale los montantes de 2 \u00d7 4** en los sitios trazados. Use un nivel para asegurarse que cada montante est\u00e1 vertical, y luego p\u00e9guelos metiendo tornillos para cubierta como clavos oblicuos en la solera interior y la placa de conexi\u00f3n.\n\n**Haga un agujero de acceso en el piso** para el desag\u00fce, seg\u00fan las instrucciones del manual de instalaci\u00f3n. Haga aberturas en la solera de la pared h\u00fameda (la nueva pared en este proyecto) para los tubos de suministro, tambi\u00e9n de acuerdo a las instrucciones.\n\n**Instale un tubo de desag\u00fce y l\u00ednea de empalme,** y luego recorte el tubo a ras de piso. Si no tiene experiencia en esto, contrate un plomero para instalar la nueva tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Instale nuevos tubos ascendentes** como es indicado en el manual de instrucciones (de nuevo, contrate un plomero para esto si es necesario). Tambi\u00e9n instale riostras entre los montantes en la pared h\u00fameda para poner el cuerpo del grifo y el brazo de la ducha.\n\n**Si la plomer\u00eda de suministro est\u00e1 localizada** en una pared (vieja o nueva) que es accesible desde el lado donde no est\u00e1 la ducha, instale el marco para un panel de acceso removible.\n\n**Instale el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce,** que viene con el receptor, en el rev\u00e9s de la unidad, siguiendo exactamente las instrucciones del fabricante. Es este ejemplo se usa una llave spud ajustable para apretar el ap\u00e9ndice.\n\n**Opci\u00f3n:** Para estabilizar el receptor, especialmente si el piso es desigual, eche una capa de argamasa fina en el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n, teniendo cuidado de mantenerla fuera del agujero de acceso del desag\u00fce. No la eche en \u00e1reas donde el receptor tiene partes que van a hacer contacto pleno con el piso.\n\n**Fije el receptor,** revise que est\u00e9 nivelado y ponga cu\u00f1as si es necesario. Aseg\u00farelo con clavos para tejado de cabeza grande, clavados en el montante del muro de tal forma que las cabezas sujeten el reborde contra el montante. No se sobrepase al clavarlos.\n\n**Marque la localizaci\u00f3n para el agujero** o los agujeros de la v\u00e1lvula en el panel lateral que ser\u00e1 instalado sobre la pared h\u00fameda. Revise las instrucciones de instalaci\u00f3n. Algunos juegos vienen con una plantilla marcada en la caja de empaque. Haga el agujero de acceso con una sierra perforadora y taladro, o con una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n y hoja de dientes finos. Si usa una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n, oriente el panel de tal forma que la superficie buena est\u00e9 boca abajo.\n\n**Coloque la pared trasera de tal forma** que haya una rendija (aproximadamente 1\/32\") entre la parte inferior del panel y el borde del receptor\u2014ponga unos espaciadores peque\u00f1os sobre el borde si es necesario\u2014. Inserte un par de clavos para tejado sobre la parte superior del panel trasero para fijarlo (o use cinta adhesiva). Ponga las dos paredes laterales y pruebe los empalmes. Haga conexiones entre paneles (recuadro) si su juego los usa.\n\n**Remueva la pared** lateral de tal forma que pueda preparar el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n. Si su juego recomienda adhesivo de paneles, apl\u00edquelo a la pared o los montantes. En el juego mostrado aqu\u00ed, s\u00f3lo se requiere una peque\u00f1a dosis de sellador de silicona sobre el reborde del receptor.\n\n**Reinstale los paneles laterales** , uni\u00e9ndolos permanentemente al panel trasero de acuerdo a las instrucciones del fabricante. Aseg\u00farese que los bordes frontales de los paneles laterales queden a ras del frente del receptor.\n\n**Una vez que los paneles sean colocados correctamente** y acoplados, aseg\u00farelos a los montantes del muro. Si los paneles tienen agujeros ya taladrados, use clavos para tejado en cada montante en la parte superior y cada 4\" a 6\" a lo largo de las superficies verticales.\n\n**Instale material de tapizado** sobre los paneles del juego de la ducha y cualquier otra parte que se necesite. Use materiales resistentes a la humedad, y deje un espacio de \u00bc\" entre los rebordes superiores y el tapizado.\n\n**Finalice las paredes** y luego calafatee entre los paneles del contorno y los tapizados con pasta de silicona.\n\n**Instale las manijas** del grifo y la placa y calafatee alrededor de la placa. Instale la placa del brazo de la ducha y el cabezal de ducha.\n\n**Haga un panel de acceso** y p\u00e9guelo en el marco construido en el paso 8. Una buena idea para cubiertas de panel de acceso es la madera laminada de \u00bc\" enmarcada con moldura mitrada y pintada para que haga juego con la pared.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una puerta de bisagra**\n\n**Mida la anchura de la abertura de la ducha.** Si las paredes de \u00e9sta se inclinan ligeramente hacia adentro antes de empalmar la base, tome la medida desde un punto m\u00e1s alto en la anchura completa de la abertura de modo que no deje muy corta la base de la puerta. Corte la pieza de la base usando una sierra para metales y una caja de ingletes. Lime los extremos cortados si es necesario.\n\n**Identifique cu\u00e1l jamba lateral** ser\u00e1 la de la bisagra de acuerdo a la direcci\u00f3n que desea que gire la puerta articulada\u2014el giro hacia fuera es preferido\u2014. Prepare las jambas para la instalaci\u00f3n como es indicado en las instrucciones.\n\n**Ponga la jamba de la base sobre el bordillo** de la base de la ducha. Si la uni\u00f3n donde la pared se acopla al bordillo est\u00e1 inclinada, deber\u00e1 recortar las esquinas de la base para seguir el perfil. Ponga una jamba con cuidado sobre la base y apl\u00f3mela con un nivel. Luego, marque un punto de taladrado usando un punz\u00f3n en el centro de cada agujero para clavo en cada jamba. Remueva las jambas, haga los agujeros piloto, y luego p\u00e9guelas con los tornillos prove\u00eddos.\n\n**Quite la barra inferior** y prepare el bordillo de la base de la ducha para la instalaci\u00f3n de la barra de la base, siguiendo las instrucciones del fabricante. Instale permanentemente la barra inferior. Las barras inferiores (no todas las puertas las tienen) son usualmente pegadas a las jambas laterales o mantenidas en su lugar con adhesivo. Nunca use cierres para asegurarlas al bordillo.\n\n**Trabajando sobre el piso u otra superficie plana,** pegue la bisagra en la jamba correspondiente, si es requerido. En la mayor\u00eda de sistemas, la bisagra es puesta sobre la jamba despu\u00e9s de unirla a la pared.\n\n**Pegue la bisagra en el panel de la puerta,** de acuerdo a las instrucciones del fabricante. Ponga cualquier accesorio que mantenga el agua fuera de la jamba.\n\n**Acople la jamba de la bisagra** sobre la jamba lateral y aj\u00fastela como es indicado en el manual de instrucciones. Una vez que las posiciones sean correctas, asegure las jambas para colocar la puerta.\n\n**Instale la placa de la cerradura magn\u00e9tica** y tapas y accesorios restantes tales como toalleros. Tambi\u00e9n coloque el burlete sellador si viene con el juego.\n\n###   **Bases de duchas a la medida**\n\nConstruir la base de una ducha a la medida le permite escoger el tama\u00f1o y la forma de su ducha para que sus dimensiones no sean especificadas por los productos disponibles. Hacerla es muy sencillo, aunque requiere tiempo y cierto conocimiento de t\u00e9cnicas de mamposter\u00eda esenciales porque la base es formada ante todo usando argamasa. Lo que logre por su tiempo y esfuerzo puede ser espectacular.\n\nAntes de dise\u00f1ar una base de ducha, p\u00f3ngase en contacto con el departamento de construcci\u00f3n local para ver lo referente a las restricciones y conseguir los permisos necesarios. La mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos requieren que los controles del agua sean accesibles desde fuera de la ducha y describan una operaci\u00f3n y posiciones de la puerta aceptables. Requisitos como estos influyen en el tama\u00f1o y la posici\u00f3n de la base.\n\nEscoger la baldosa antes de finalizar el dise\u00f1o le permite medir la base para requerir principalmente o s\u00f3lo baldosas completas. Considere usar baldosines y matizar el color de arriba hacia abajo o en un efecto de barrido a trav\u00e9s de las paredes, o use baldosa recortada y l\u00edstelas en las paredes para crear un interesante punto focal.\n\nSin importar la baldosa que escoja, recuerde sellar la lechada y darle mantenimiento a trav\u00e9s de los a\u00f1os. La lechada resistente al agua protege la estructura de la ducha y prolonga su vida \u00fatil.\n\n**Escoger una base** a la medida le da muchas opciones para la forma y el tama\u00f1o de su ducha.\n\n####   **Corte transversal de un recept\u00e1culo de ducha**\n\n**Construir un recept\u00e1culo de una ducha a la medida** es una labor muy intrincada y de m\u00faltiples niveles, pero si decide hacerlo le dar\u00e1 dar\u00e1 la m\u00e1xima flexibilidad de dise\u00f1o.\n  **Consejos para construir una base de ducha a la medida**\n\nUna base a la medida se construye en tres capas para lograr el drenaje apropiado: el pre-recept\u00e1culo, el recept\u00e1culo y el piso de la ducha. Un pre-recept\u00e1culo de argamasa es construido primero sobre el sub-piso, dejando declive hacia el desag\u00fce de \u00bc\" por cada 12\" de piso. Luego, una membrana impermeable de polietileno clorinado (CPE) forma el recept\u00e1culo, dando un sello herm\u00e9tico para la base. Finalmente, una segunda capa de argamasa reforzada con malla de alambre es instalada para el piso, creando la superficie para instalar baldosas. Si el agua penetra el piso de baldosa, el recept\u00e1culo y el pre-recept\u00e1culo en declive la llevar\u00e1n a los agujeros del desag\u00fce de 3 piezas.\n\nUno de los pasos m\u00e1s importantes al construir una base a la medida es probar el recept\u00e1culo despu\u00e9s de la instalaci\u00f3n, lo cual permite localizar y arreglar fugas para prevenir da\u00f1os costosos.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo construir una base de ducha a la medida**\n\n**Remueva los materiales** de construcci\u00f3n para exponer el subpiso y los montantes. Corte tres maderos 2 \u00d7 4 para el bordillo y f\u00edjelos a las vigas del piso y los montantes en el umbral de la ducha con clavos galvanizados 16d. Tambi\u00e9n corte maderos 2 \u00d7 10 para instalar en las cavidades entre los montantes alrededor del per\u00edmetro de la base. Instale (o tenga instalada) la plomer\u00eda de desag\u00fce y suministro.\n\n**Engrape papel de construcci\u00f3n #15** en el sub-piso de la base. Desarme el desag\u00fce de 3 piezas y pegue con cemento para PVC la parte inferior en el tubo de desag\u00fce. Enrosque parcialmente los tornillos y meta un trapo en el tubo de desag\u00fce para impedir que le caiga argamasa.\n\n**Marque la altura** de la pieza inferior del desag\u00fce sobre la pared m\u00e1s lejana del centro del desag\u00fce. Mida desde aqu\u00ed derecho hasta esa pared, luego aumente la marca de altura \u00bc\" por cada 12\" del piso de la ducha para inclinar el pre-recept\u00e1culo hacia el desag\u00fce. Usando el nivel, trace una l\u00ednea de referencia en la marca de altura alrededor del per\u00edmetro de todo el juego.\n\n**Engrape la malla galvanizada** all papel de construcci\u00f3n; haga un agujero en la malla a \u00bd\" del desag\u00fce. Mezcle argamasa fina para una consistencia seca con un aditivo de l\u00e1tex para resistencia; la argamasa debe conservar su forma al ser estrujada (recuadro). Allane la argamasa sobre el sub-piso, construyendo el pre-recept\u00e1culo desde la brida del desag\u00fce hasta la l\u00ednea de altura alrededor de las paredes.\n\n**Siga usando la paleta** para formar el pre-recept\u00e1culo, revisando el declive con un nivel y llenando las depresiones con argamasa. Termine la superficie del pre-recept\u00e1culo con una llana de madera hasta que quede uniforme y lisa. Deje que la argamasa frag\u00fce durante la noche.\n\n**Mida las dimensiones** del piso de la ducha, y tr\u00e1celas sobre una membrana impermeable de CPE usando un marcador con punta de fieltro. En el contorno del piso, mida y marque 8\" adicionales para cada pared y 16\" para el extremo del bordillo. Corte la membrana con el cortador de cajas y la regla de borde recto, sobre una superficie lisa y limpia para no perforarla. Coloque la membrana sobre el recept\u00e1culo de la ducha.\n\n**Mida para encontrar la localizaci\u00f3n** exacta del desag\u00fce y m\u00e1rquela en la membrana, contorneando el di\u00e1metro exterior de la brida del desag\u00fce. Corte un trozo circular de membrana de CPE aproximadamente 2\" m\u00e1s grande que la brida, luego use cola solvente para pegarlo y reforzar el sello del desag\u00fce.\n\n**Aplique sellador de CPE** alrededor del desag\u00fce. Doble la membrana a lo largo del contorno del piso, y f\u00edjela sobre el prerecept\u00e1culo de tal forma que el sello del desag\u00fce reforzado quede centrado sobre los tornillos del mismo. Del desag\u00fce hacia las paredes, fije cuidadosamente la membrana en cada rinc\u00f3n, doblando el material sobrante en pliegues triangulares.\n\n**Aplique cola solvente** para CPE en cada lado, allane el pliegue y luego engr\u00e1pelo. Engrape s\u00f3lo el borde superior de la membrana; no lo haga debajo del canto del bordillo ni sobre \u00e9ste.\n\n**En el bordillo,** corte la membrana a lo largo de los montantes para que despu\u00e9s pueda ser doblada sobre \u00e9l. Pegue con cola solvente la curvatura esquinera impermeable en cada rinc\u00f3n del bordillo, pero no los engrape.\n\n**En el sello del desag\u00fce reforzado** sobre la membrana, localice y marque los tornillos. Presione la membrana alrededor de los tornillos, y con el cortador de cajas haga con cuidado un corte para que pasen. Presione la membrana sobre ellos.\n\n**Utilice una navaja** para cortar la membrana s\u00f3lo lo necesario a fin de exponer el desag\u00fce y acoplar la pieza central del mismo. Remueva los tornillos, y luego ubique la pieza central sobre los agujeros. Ponga de nuevo los tornillos, apret\u00e1ndolos uniforme y firmemente para crear un sello herm\u00e9tico.\n\n**Pruebe el recept\u00e1culo de la ducha durante la noche** para ver si hay fugas. Ll\u00e9nelo con agua hasta 1\" por debajo del canto del bordillo. Marque el nivel del agua y d\u00e9jela durante la noche. Si el nivel sigue siendo el mismo, el recept\u00e1culo retiene el agua; si el nivel es m\u00e1s bajo, localice y arregle las fugas usando parches de membrana y solvente de CPE.\n\n**Instale la placa de fibrocemento** sobre las paredes del juego usando cu\u00f1as de madera de \u00bc\" para separar el borde inferior de la membrana de CPE. Para evitar que perfore la membrana, no use ajustadores en la 8\" inferiores de la placa. Corte una malla met\u00e1lica para encajar alrededor de los tres lados del bordillo; d\u00f3blela de tal forma que se ajuste fuertemente a \u00e9l. Presionando la malla sobre el canto del bordillo, engr\u00e1pelo en la cara exterior del mismo. Mezcle suficiente argamasa para los dos lados del bordillo.\n\n**Proyecte el borde** frontal del bordillo con una tabla 1\u00d7 recta, de tal forma que quede a ras del material de la pared externa. Eche argamasa en la malla con la paleta, rellenando hasta el borde del bordillo; quite el exceso, y luego use un nivel torpedo para revisar el nivel, haciendo ajustes cuando sea necesario. Repita el proceso en la cara interior del bordillo. _Nota: el canto del bordillo ser\u00e1 terminado despu\u00e9s de poner las baldosas (paso 19). Deje que la argamasa frag\u00fce durante la noche._\n\n**Ponga el colador en el desag\u00fce,** ajust\u00e1ndolo hasta un m\u00ednimo de 1\u00bd\" por encima del recept\u00e1culo. Sobre una pared, marque 1\u00bd\" arriba desde el recept\u00e1culo, luego use el nivel para trazar una l\u00ednea de referencia por el per\u00edmetro de la base de la ducha. Debido a que el pre-recept\u00e1culo deja un declive de \u00bc\" por pie, esta medici\u00f3n mantendr\u00e1 dicha inclinaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Ponga los separadores** de baldosas sobre los agujeros de drenaje del desag\u00fce para evitar que la argamasa tapone los orificios. Mezcle la argamasa, luego rellene el piso hasta la mitad del grosor planeado de esta capa. Ponga malla met\u00e1lica para cubrir la capa de argamasa, manteni\u00e9ndola a \u00bd\" del desag\u00fce (ver foto en paso 18).\n\n**Siga adicionando argamasa,** formando el piso hasta la l\u00ednea de referencia en las paredes. Use el nivel para examinar el declive, y rellene con argamasa las depresiones usando la paleta. Deje espacio alrededor de la brida del desag\u00fce para el espesor de la baldosa. Allane la superficie con una llana de madera hasta que quede lisa y se incline uniformemente hacia el desag\u00fce. Cuando termine, deje que la argamasa frag\u00fce durante la noche antes de poner las baldosas.\n\n**Ponga las baldosas.** En el bordillo, pegue las baldosas de la parte de dentro sobresaliendo \u00bd\" del canto sin acabar, y las baldosas de la parte externa sobresaliendo 5\/8\", dejando un declive de 1\/8\" para que el agua retorne a la ducha. Examine el nivel para revisar el declive de las baldosas mientras trabaja.\n\n**Mezcle suficiente argamasa** para cubrir el canto del bordillo, luego rell\u00e9nela entre las baldosas usando la paleta. Quite el exceso de argamasa a ras del canto de las baldosas laterales. Deje que la argamasa frag\u00fce, luego ponga las de borde redondeado. Pegue las baldosas de la pared, enleche, limpie y s\u00e9llelas todas. Despu\u00e9s de que la lechada haya fraguado por completo, eche una capa de silicona calafatea en todos los rincones para crear empalmes de control.\n  **Sugerencias de dise\u00f1o**\n\n**Las superficies texturadas mejoran la seguridad de las baldosas,** especialmente en \u00e1reas h\u00famedas tales como esta ducha abierta. El \u00e1rea de la ducha es dise\u00f1ada eficazmente con un simple cambio de color y tama\u00f1o.\n\n**El bordillo elevado** en esta ducha abierta mantiene la mayor parte del agua dirigida hacia el desag\u00fce. Pero no importa si caen gotas, pues todo el cuarto de ba\u00f1o est\u00e1 embaldosado.\n\n**Las baldosas de mosaico,** enmalladas y peque\u00f1as, a menudo funcionan bien en paredes curvadas como la de esta ducha. La forma rectangular de las baldosas de mosaico complementa la forma del poste en el rinc\u00f3n de la ducha.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1eras en alcoves**\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de nuestros hogares est\u00e1n equipados con una ba\u00f1era de alcove que incluye un juego y ducha. Combinando la ba\u00f1era y la ducha, es posible conservar \u00e1rea preciada del ba\u00f1o y se simplifica la instalaci\u00f3n inicial. Adem\u00e1s, s\u00f3lo habr\u00e1 una instalaci\u00f3n de ba\u00f1o que necesitar\u00e1 limpieza regular.\n\nLas ba\u00f1eras\/duchas tienen mucho uso y tienden a tener una vida \u00fatil muy limitada, pues son ba\u00f1eras dise\u00f1adas para uso de alcoves y son muy econ\u00f3micas en el mercado. Las ba\u00f1eras de acero prensado tienen acabados con esmalte que se agrietan; las pl\u00e1sticas y de fibra de vidrio tienden a mancharse; incluso las de acr\u00edlico y composite muestran desgaste con el tiempo (y como pasa con otras instalaciones, los estilos y colores tambi\u00e9n cambian).\n\nLa plomer\u00eda en una ba\u00f1era de alcove es un trabajo relativamente dif\u00edcil porque a menudo es muy complicado tener acceso a las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce en el piso y a las conexiones de la ba\u00f1era.\n\nAunque en la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos es requerido un panel de acceso, en realidad muchas ba\u00f1eras han sido instaladas sin incluir un panel o con uno demasiado peque\u00f1o o dif\u00edcil de alcanzar para usos pr\u00e1cticos. Si est\u00e1 pensando en reemplazar su ba\u00f1era, el primer paso en el proceso de decisi\u00f3n es encontrar el panel de acceso y determinar si es adecuado. Si no es as\u00ed (o ni siquiera hay panel), considere c\u00f3mo podr\u00eda agrandarlo.\n\nA menudo, el cambio implica hacer un agujero en la pared sobre la habitaci\u00f3n contigua y tambi\u00e9n en el techo de abajo. Naturalmente, esto genera m\u00e1s trabajo de lo que cre\u00eda, pero hacer una abertura de acceso es un esfuerzo menor comparado con el da\u00f1o que puede causar un desag\u00fce roto en una instalaci\u00f3n inadecuada.\n\n**Reemplazar una ba\u00f1era** vieja y deslucida de alcove por una nueva, puede hacer que el \u00e1rea sea m\u00e1s agradable y eficiente.\n  **Consejos para instalar ba\u00f1eras**\n\n**Elija la ba\u00f1era apropiada para su sistema** de plomer\u00eda. Las ba\u00f1eras para alcoves con faldones de un solo lado, son vendidas como modelos \"izquierdos\" o \"derechos\", dependiendo de la ubicaci\u00f3n del desag\u00fce ya taladrado y los orificios de rebose en la ba\u00f1era. Para determinar qu\u00e9 tipo necesita, mire en el espacio para la ba\u00f1era si el desag\u00fce de la misma est\u00e1 a su derecha o izquierda.\n\n**Un juego de desag\u00fce,** desecho y rebose con mecanismo de tap\u00f3n debe ser comprado por separado y colocado despu\u00e9s de fijar la ba\u00f1era. Se consiguen de lat\u00f3n y pl\u00e1stico, y la mayor\u00eda incluye una placa de rebose, un tubo de rebose que puede ser ajustado a diferentes alturas, una T de desag\u00fce, un ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce ajustable, y una placa de desag\u00fce que se enrosca en el ap\u00e9ndice.\n\n**El sistema de suministro** para una ba\u00f1era incluye tubos para agua caliente y fr\u00eda, v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n, un grifo y manija(s), y un pico. Las conexiones pueden ser hechas antes o despu\u00e9s de instalar la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**El sistema de desag\u00fce** , desecho y rebose para una ba\u00f1era incluye el tubo de rebose, T de desag\u00fce, sif\u00f3n en P y ramal de desag\u00fce. El tubo de rebose es unido a la ba\u00f1era antes de la instalaci\u00f3n.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo remover una ba\u00f1era de alcove**\n\n**Corte los tubos** de suministro viejos, si tiene algunos, con una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n y hoja de cortar metal, o con una sierra para metales. Primero aseg\u00farese de cerrar el suministro de agua en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n. Corte el tubo de la ducha justo encima del cuerpo del grifo, y corte los tubos de suministro sobre las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva las manijas del grifo,** el pico de la ba\u00f1era, cabezal y placa de la ducha, y el brazo. Examine si en el rev\u00e9s del pico hay un tornillo, y si lo encuentra, afl\u00f3jelo. Luego, introduzca un destornillador largo en el pico y gire \u00e9ste en sentido contrario a las manecillas del reloj.\n\n**Remueva el tap\u00f3n** de desag\u00fce desde el lado de la ba\u00f1era. Si el desag\u00fce tiene acoplamiento, gire el tap\u00f3n para soltarlo y quite el tap\u00f3n (recuadro). Luego, introduzca los brazos de unos alicates tipo canal en la abertura de desag\u00fce y m\u00e1s all\u00e1 del travesa\u00f1o. Gire los alicates en sentido contrario a las manecillas del reloj para remover el tap\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva la placa de rebose** (arriba) y luego saque el acoplamiento de desag\u00fce a trav\u00e9s del orificio de rebose (abajo).\n\n**Desconecte el tubo de rebose** del montaje de desag\u00fce y remueva ambas partes (tal vez su acceso no sea tan c\u00f3modo como aparece aqu\u00ed). Si necesita cortar los tubos, h\u00e1galo. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, es dif\u00edcil maniobrar la ba\u00f1era con el montaje DWO a\u00fan instalado.\n\n**Perfore la pared hasta una l\u00ednea de aproximadamente** 6\" por encima del borde de la ba\u00f1era. Las ba\u00f1eras de alcoves son fijadas en los montantes con clavos introducidos a trav\u00e9s o encima de un reborde. Debe quitar un poco de tapizado de pared para remover los ajustadores.\n\n**Si puede,** quite los ajustadores y luego separe la ba\u00f1era de las paredes haciendo palanca entre el borde trasero de la misma y la pared trasera del alcove. Si no cede, revise si hay silicona adhesiva o incluso embaldosado bloqueando el fondo del fald\u00f3n. Si es necesario, levante la ba\u00f1era y meta un par de rieles 1 \u00d7 4 debajo (foto anexa) para sacarlo con mayor facilidad.\n\n**Opci\u00f3n:** Corte por la mitad las ba\u00f1eras problem\u00e1ticas para retirarlas del alcove, lo cual tambi\u00e9n facilita sacarlas por la puerta y bajarlas por la escalera hasta el contenedor de escombros.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una nueva ba\u00f1era de alcove**\n\n**Prepare el sitio para la nueva ba\u00f1era** ; examine y remueva superficies de la pared viejas o deterioradas o partes del marco en el \u00e1rea de la misma. Con los productos de cart\u00f3n tabla resistentes al moho, es aun m\u00e1s recomendable quitar los tapizados de pared y techo viejos hasta los montantes para reemplazarlos. Esto tambi\u00e9n le permite examinar si hay da\u00f1o oculto en las cavidades de la pared y el techo.\n\n**Revise el nivel del sub-piso** ; si no est\u00e1 nivelado, use compuesto nivelador para corregirlo (c\u00f3mprelo en la tienda de productos para piso). Aseg\u00farese que los tubos de suministro y desag\u00fce y las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n est\u00e9n en buen estado y arregle los problemas que encuentre. Si no tiene ventilador de ba\u00f1o en el alcove, es el momento preciso para ponerlo.\n\n**Marque la altura de las riostras** para el cuerpo del grifo y el cabezal de la ducha. Si los miembros de su familia necesitan inclinarse para usar la vieja ducha, eleve la riostra para el cabezal. Lea las instrucciones de su nuevo grifo\/desviador y vea si la riostra para el cuerpo del grifo se ajusta a los requerimientos (esto incluye distancia de la pared circundante adem\u00e1s de altura). Ajuste la ubicaci\u00f3n de la riostra si es necesario.\n\n**Comience instalando la nueva plomer\u00eda.** Mida y determine la altura requerida del tubo ascendente de la ducha y c\u00f3rtelo a esa longitud. Conecte la parte inferior del tubo ascendente en el cuerpo del grifo, y la parte superior en el codo de la ducha.\n\n**Conecte el cuerpo del grifo en la riostra** con cuelgatubos. Luego, ponga la tuber\u00eda de suministro desde las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n hasta el cuerpo del grifo, asegur\u00e1ndose de conectar el agua caliente en el orificio izquierdo y la fr\u00eda en el derecho. Tambi\u00e9n fije el codo de la ducha en su riostra con un cuelgatubo. Todav\u00eda no coloque el brazo de la ducha.\n\n**Deslice la ba\u00f1era en el alcove.** Aseg\u00farese que haga contacto pleno sobre el piso y quede bien pegada a la pared trasera. Si su ba\u00f1era no viene con un protector, use un cart\u00f3n para tapar el fondo de la misma, y pegue otros alrededor del borde para proteger el acabado de pisadas o ca\u00edda de herramientas.\n\n**Marque la localizaci\u00f3n de los travesa\u00f1os.** Para hacerlo, trace la altura del tope del reborde de fijaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era sobre los montantes. Luego remueva la ba\u00f1era y mida esa altura. Mida hacia abajo esta misma longitud desde las l\u00edneas del reborde y marque la ubicaci\u00f3n del nuevo travesa\u00f1o.\n\n**Instale travesa\u00f1os 1 \u00d7 4.** Clave dos o tres tornillos para cubierta galvanizados de 3\" a trav\u00e9s del travesa\u00f1o en cada montante; las tres paredes deben tener un travesa\u00f1o. Deje un espacio abierto en la pared h\u00fameda para el montaje del juego DWO.\n\n**Instale la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce** , desecho y rebose (DWO) antes de instalar la ba\u00f1era. Aseg\u00farese de lograr un buen sello en las tuercas deslizantes de las uniones. Siga las instrucciones del fabricante para conectar apropiadamente el acoplamiento de desag\u00fce. Aseg\u00farese que las empaquetaduras de caucho queden puestas correctamente en las aberturas sobre la parte exterior de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Enrosque el colador** macho en el codo de desag\u00fce hembra. Primero eche masilla alrededor del desag\u00fce debajo del anillo del tap\u00f3n. Apriete s\u00f3lo con la mano.\n\n**Pegue la placa de rebose** , asegur\u00e1ndose que los controles del desag\u00fce est\u00e9n en la posici\u00f3n correcta. Apriete los tornillos de montaje que se conectan a la platina para apretar la empaquetadura de caucho entre la brida del tubo de rebose y la pared de la ba\u00f1era. Luego, termine de apretar el colador en el codo de desag\u00fce introduciendo los brazos de unos alicates en el cuerpo del colador y girando.\n\n**Ponga la ba\u00f1era en el alcove** , teniendo cuidado de no chocar contra el montaje DWO y estropear las conexiones. Definitivamente necesitar\u00e1 un ayudante para realizar este trabajo. Si la salida del montaje DWO no est\u00e1 directamente sobre el tubo de desag\u00fce cuando la ba\u00f1era es colocada, tendr\u00e1 que removerla y ajustar la ubicaci\u00f3n de la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Conecte la salida del montaje DWO** en el sif\u00f3n en P. Esta es la parte del trabajo donde pasar\u00e1 m\u00e1s tiempo, creando un panel de acceso espacioso para la plomer\u00eda de la ba\u00f1era. Pruebe el desag\u00fce y el rebosadero para asegurar que no tienen fugas, pruebe tambi\u00e9n la plomer\u00eda de suministro de agua, poniendo temporalmente las manijas, pico y brazo de ducha para accionar el grifo y el desviador.\n\n**Use un clavo para tejado galvanizado de** 1\u00bd\" en cada montante, justo encima del reborde de fijaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era. La cabeza del clavo debe fijar el reborde en el montante. Aqu\u00ed debe tener cuidado, pues un mal golpe o uno muy fuerte puede estropear la superficie esmaltada. _Opci\u00f3n: Puede hacer orificios como gu\u00eda y clavarlos al reborde._\n\n**Instale los tapizados de pared y el juego** de la ba\u00f1era (ver las p\u00e1ginas. 81 a 83 para la instalaci\u00f3n de un juego de 3 piezas). Tambi\u00e9n puede hacer uno a su gusto con panel de azulejos o fibrocemento y azulejos.\n\n**Instale los accesorios.** Primero, enrosque el brazo de la ducha en el codo, y conecte la entrerrosca del pico en el montaje de v\u00e1lvulas. Tambi\u00e9n ponga el cabezal y la placa de la ducha, la manija\/desviador del grifo con placa, y el pico de la ba\u00f1era. Use lubricante de rosca en todas las partes.\n\n###   **Juegos de ba\u00f1era de tres piezas**\n\nNadie quiere tener instalaciones viejas y amarillentas en el cuarto de ba\u00f1o. Un juego de ba\u00f1era nuevo brindar\u00e1 brillo y frescura al ba\u00f1o de sus sue\u00f1os.\n\nExisten juegos de diferentes estilos, materiales y precios. Escoja el que desea y tome las medidas del juego viejo que va a reemplazar. Generalmente vienen en tres o cinco piezas; aqu\u00ed veremos la instalaci\u00f3n de uno de tres paneles, pero el proceso es similar para sistemas de cinco paneles.\n\nLa preparaci\u00f3n de la superficie es muy importante para lograr una buena adhesi\u00f3n de la cola. Debe quitar azulejos pl\u00e1sticos y el papel de colgadura, y tambi\u00e9n lijar el yeso texturizado. Los juegos pueden ser instalados sobre azulejos cer\u00e1micas que todav\u00eda est\u00e9n bien pegados y en un buen estado, pero deben ser lijados y cebados.\n\nTodas las superficies deben ser cebadas con un primer (cebador) a base de agua.\n\n**Los juegos de tres piezas** son econ\u00f3micos y se encuentran en muchos colores y estilos. La unidad t\u00edpica tiene dos paneles laterales y uno trasero que se traslapa en las esquinas para formar un sello herm\u00e9tico. Son hechos de fibra de vidrio, PVC, acr\u00edlico o pol\u00edmeros a base de resinas. Tambi\u00e9n hay de cinco piezas, y generalmente tienen m\u00e1s caracter\u00edsticas tales como jaboneras integrales y gabinetes lisos.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar juegos de ba\u00f1era de tres piezas**\n\n**Remueva las instalaciones** viejas y tapizados de pared en el \u00e1rea de la ba\u00f1era. En algunos casos se pueden pegar los paneles del juego en paneles de azulejos viejos o incluso sobre azulejos, pero generalmente es mejor quitar los tapizados hasta los montantes si es posible, para examinar si hay fugas o da\u00f1os.\n\n**Reemplace los tapizados de pared** con materiales apropiados, tales como placa para tabiques resistente al moho o fibrocemento (para instalaciones de azulejos cer\u00e1micos). Aseg\u00farese de que las superficies de las paredes est\u00e9n lisas y llanas. Algunos fabricantes de juegos recomiendan aplicar una capa de primer a productos laminados tales como placas de tabique a fin de crear una mejor superficie de uni\u00f3n para el adhesivo de paneles.\n\n**Pruebe los paneles antes de iniciar;** tal vez la ba\u00f1era no qued\u00f3 bien asentada o las paredes no est\u00e1n aplomadas. Revise las instrucciones del fabricante para distinguir los paneles derechos de los izquierdos. Ubique un panel sobre el borde de la ba\u00f1era. Utilice el nivel hasta el tope del panel para ver si est\u00e1 nivelado, y haga una l\u00ednea de referencia vertical para marcar el borde del mismo sobre el lado de la plomer\u00eda.\n  **Consejo para la uni\u00f3n**\n\n**Logre un ajuste perfecto** pegando con cinta los paneles en las paredes en el \u00e1rea de la ba\u00f1era. Aseg\u00farese que las partes superiores est\u00e9n niveladas cuando las junturas de traslape est\u00e9n alineadas y haya un espacio constante de 1\/8\" entre las bases de los paneles y el reborde de la ba\u00f1era. Marque los paneles para cortar si es necesario y, una vez que los remueva, haga los ajustes requeridos en las paredes.\n\n**Algunos juegos son** hechos para ajustarse a un rango de dimensiones de ba\u00f1era. Despu\u00e9s de hacer la colocaci\u00f3n de prueba, revise las indicaciones para ver si necesita recortar alguna de las piezas; para cortar, siga las instrucciones del fabricante. Aqu\u00ed, tuvimos que cortar los paneles esquineros porque las instrucciones aconsejan no traslapar el panel trasero o lateral sobre los esquineros por m\u00e1s de 3\". C\u00f3rtelos con una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n y una hoja de dientes finos apropiada para fibra de vidrio o acr\u00edlico. Los recortados deben ser traslapados por paneles con bordes de f\u00e1brica.\n\n**Mida y marque la localizaci\u00f3n de grifos** , pico y ducha. Mida desde la l\u00ednea de referencia vertical (hecha en el paso 3) y desde el borde de la ba\u00f1era. Vuelva a medir para precisi\u00f3n, pues los cortes son definitivos. Ponga el panel boca arriba sobre una hoja de madera laminada. Marque la localizaci\u00f3n de los agujeros, y h\u00e1galos \u00bd\" grandes que el di\u00e1metro del tubo. Si su grifo tiene una placa, haga el agujero para que se ajuste a ella. Usando una sierra perforadora o una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n, haga las salidas de plomer\u00eda.\n\n**Instale el panel del lado de la plomer\u00eda** , prob\u00e1ndolo primero. En este juego, los paneles laterales son instalados primero. Aplique adhesivo en el rev\u00e9s del panel de la plomer\u00eda; \u00e9chelo a 1\" del borde de los agujeros. Siga el patr\u00f3n de aplicaci\u00f3n del fabricante, y no eche a menos de 1\" de la cinta de doble faz o el borde inferior del panel.\n\n**Remueva el respaldo protector de la cinta.** Con cuidado, levante el panel por los bordes y p\u00f3ngalo frente la esquina y parte superior del borde de la ba\u00f1era. Presione firmemente de arriba abajo en la esquina, luego en todo el panel.\n\n**Pruebe el panel lateral** opuesto y haga los ajustes necesarios. Aplique el adhesivo, remueva el respaldo protector de la cinta, y p\u00e9guela. Primero haga presi\u00f3n en la esquina de arriba abajo, y luego en todo el panel.\n\n**Aplique adhesivo en** el panel trasero siguiendo las instrucciones del fabricante. Mantenga un espacio de 1\" entre la cinta adhesiva y la parte inferior del panel. Remueva el respaldo protector de la cinta. Levante el panel por los bordes y c\u00e9ntrelo con cuidado entre los paneles laterales; ya colocado, presi\u00f3nelo firmemente de arriba abajo.\n\n**Aplique silicona calafatea** en los bordes inferior y superior de los paneles y en las uniones. Meta el dedo en agua y \u00faselo para allanar la silicona de manera uniforme.\n\n**Aplique silicona en** las placas y reinst\u00e1lelas. Espere al menos 24 horas para que la silicona y el adhesivo sequen por completo, antes de usar la ducha o la ba\u00f1era.\n\n###   **Puertas corredizas para ba\u00f1era**\n\nLas cortinas en la ducha con ba\u00f1era son un problema. Si olvida meterlas dentro de la ba\u00f1era, el agua cae f\u00e1cilmente sobre el piso del ba\u00f1o; si olvida escurrirlas, el moho se acumula en los pliegues; y cada vez que se roce con ellas se pegar\u00e1n a su piel.\n\nEs claro que las cortinas de ducha no agregan mucha elegancia o encanto a un ba\u00f1o de ensue\u00f1o; tampoco lo hace una puerta deteriorada. Mejore la apariencia del cuarto de ba\u00f1o, e incluso d\u00e9le un toque de elegancia adicional, con una puerta corrediza.\n\nAl comprar una puerta corrediza tiene la elecci\u00f3n de tenerla enmarcada o sin marco. La enmarcada tiene bordes en metal; el marco met\u00e1lico es generalmente de aluminio, pero se encuentran en muchos acabados, incluyendo los que se asemejan a oro, lat\u00f3n o cromo. Tambi\u00e9n se encuentran muchas opciones en vidrio; puede escoger entre vidrio deslustrado o granulado, claro, reflejado, matizado o grabado.\n\nLas puertas pueden ser instaladas en paredes con azulejos cer\u00e1micos o en un juego de fibra de vidrio.\n\n**Una puerta de corredera** enmarcada en aluminio da una apariencia brillante al ba\u00f1o y es s\u00f3lo una de las opciones disponibles.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar puertas de corredera**\n\n**Quite la puerta** vieja y examine las paredes. Con una hoja de afeitar corte el sellador de los azulejos y superficies met\u00e1licas; no la use sobre superficies de fibra de vidrio. Quite el sellador restante rasp\u00e1ndolo o arranc\u00e1ndolo, y utilice removedor de sellador de silicona para el residuo. Quite las varillas de las cortinas, si las hay. Verifique que el borde de la ba\u00f1era est\u00e9 nivelado y las paredes aplomadas.\n\n**Mida la distancia** entre las paredes acabadas sobre el borde de la ba\u00f1era. Vea las instrucciones del fabricante para calcular las dimensiones del carril. Para el producto visto aqu\u00ed, se sustrae 3\/16\" de la medici\u00f3n para calcularlas.\n\n**Usando sierra para** metales y caja de ingletes, corte el carril en la dimensi\u00f3n apropiada. C\u00e9ntrelo en el borde de la ba\u00f1era con el lado m\u00e1s alto hacia afuera y de tal forma que los espacios est\u00e9n parejos en cada extremo; luego suj\u00e9telo con cinta para cubrir.\n\n**Ponga un canal sobre la pared** con el lado m\u00e1s largo hacia afuera y desl\u00edcelo sobre el carril de tal forma que se traslapen. Use el nivel para ver si el canal est\u00e1 aplomado, y luego marque la localizaci\u00f3n de los agujeros de montaje sobre la pared. Repita esto para el canal de la otra pared y remueva el carril.\n\n**Haga los agujeros de montaje** para el canal de la pared en los puntos marcados. En agujeros cer\u00e1micos, marque la superficie del azulejo con un punz\u00f3n, use la broca de \u00bc\" para hacer el agujero, y luego introduzca los anclajes de pared. Para juegos de fibra de vidrio, use una broca de 1\/8\" aqu\u00ed los anclajes no son necesarios.\n\n**Aplique sellador de** silicona a lo largo del empalme entre la ba\u00f1era y la pared en los extremos del carril. Eche un m\u00ednimo de \u00bc\" de sellador a lo largo de la l\u00e1mina exterior del rev\u00e9s del carril.\n\n**Coloque el carril** sobre el borde de la ba\u00f1era y sobre la pared. Pegue los canales de las paredes usando los tornillos prove\u00eddos, y esta vez no use silicona sobre los canales.\n\n**Corte e instale el brochal.** En un punto encima de los canales de pared, mida la distancia entre las paredes. Vea las instrucciones del fabricante para calcular la longitud del brochal. Para la puerta vista aqu\u00ed, la longitud es la distancia entre las paredes menos 1\/16\". M\u00eddalo y c\u00f3rtelo con cuidado usando una sierra para metales y una caja de ingletes; luego desl\u00edcelo sobre los canales hasta que quede en su sitio.\n\n**Monte los rodillos en los agujeros de montaje.** Para empezar, use los segundos agujeros. Siga las instrucciones del fabricante para la postura y orientaci\u00f3n del espaciador o la arandela.\n\n**Levante con cuidado el panel interior** por los costados y ponga los rodillos en el carril interior. Mueva la puerta hacia el extremo de la ducha. El borde del panel debe tocar los dos topes de caucho; si no es as\u00ed, remueva la puerta y pase los rodillos a otros agujeros. Meta los tornillos con la mano para no apretar m\u00e1s de la cuenta.\n\n**Levante el panel exterior** por los costados con el toallero mirando hacia fuera desde la ba\u00f1era. Ponga los rodillos externos sobre el carril exterior. Deslice la puerta hasta el extremo opuesto de la ducha; si no hace contacto con ambos topes, remu\u00e9vala y pase los rodillos a otros agujeros de montaje.\n\n**Aplique sellador de silicona** en la juntura interior de la pared y el canal en ambos extremos y en la uni\u00f3n en U del carril y los canales; allane el sellador con el dedo luego de meterlo en agua.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1era de hidromasaje**\n\nSe trata b\u00e1sicamente de una ba\u00f1era que recircula agua, aire o una combinaci\u00f3n de los dos para crear un efecto conocido como hidromasaje, que aumenta el flujo sangu\u00edneo, alivia la presi\u00f3n en articulaciones y m\u00fasculos, y baja la tensi\u00f3n. Las ba\u00f1eras de hidromasaje interiores usualmente tienen una bomba de agua que bombea una mezcla de aire y agua a trav\u00e9s de los chorros localizados en el cuerpo de la ba\u00f1era. Muchas incluyen un calentador de agua integral.\n\nLa ba\u00f1era que ver\u00e1 en estas p\u00e1ginas es un poco diferente; es una ba\u00f1era con chorros de aire, relativamente nueva en el mercado de spa de hidromasaje, en la que circula s\u00f3lo aire caliente, no agua. Esta tecnolog\u00eda hace que sea seguro usar aceites, ba\u00f1o de espuma y sales. Un modelo sin calentador requiere un solo circuito dedicado de 120 voltios; los modelos con calentadores normalmente requieren m\u00faltiples circuitos dedicados de 120 voltios o un circuito de 240 voltios.\n\nAl igual que las ba\u00f1eras normales, las de hidromasaje son instaladas en diversas formas. En el ejemplo a continuaci\u00f3n, instalamos una sobrepuesta (sin reborde de fijaci\u00f3n) en un alcove de 3 paredes, que puede requerir la construcci\u00f3n de una nueva pared de entramado, como la pared corta que montamos como pared h\u00fameda para esta instalaci\u00f3n. A menos que tenga una muy buena experiencia en instalaciones el\u00e9ctricas y de plomer\u00eda, es recomendable contratar profesionales para realizar todo el trabajo o partes de este proyecto.\n\n**Las ba\u00f1eras con chorros de aire** crean acci\u00f3n de masajeo, agitando el agua con aire caliente; los chorros eliminan la preocupaci\u00f3n respecto a agua estancada y bacterias que pueden permanecer en la tuber\u00eda de ba\u00f1eras whirlpool.\n\n####   **Opciones de instalaci\u00f3n**\n\n**Las ba\u00f1eras calientes** al aire libre son encastradas en una cubierta o instaladas en una plataforma enmarcada construida sobre casi cualquier superficie. Muchas vienen preinstaladas en la cubierta.\n\n**Las ba\u00f1eras de alcoves** , de hidromasaje o no, son normalmente sostenidas por travesa\u00f1os pegados en las paredes laterales y traseras. El fald\u00f3n frontal de una ba\u00f1era de hidromasaje es removible para hacer conexiones y tener acceso a la plomer\u00eda de la misma.\n\n**La plataforma enmarcada** se construye para sostener una ba\u00f1era de sobreponer en un rinc\u00f3n o isla. Los paneles verticales instalados en los costados de la estructura deben ser f\u00e1cilmente removibles para tener acceso a la plomer\u00eda y cableado el\u00e9ctrico de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**La pared de** entramado es hecha para sostener uno o m\u00e1s lados de la ba\u00f1era y a menudo se usa en conjunto con travesa\u00f1os.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una ba\u00f1era de hidromasaje**\n\n**Prepare el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n para la ba\u00f1era.** Indique la localizaci\u00f3n exacta donde le gustar\u00eda instalarla, adem\u00e1s del cableado, suministro de agua y l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce. Tambi\u00e9n planee controles para la ba\u00f1era montados en la pared, observando que los interruptores ON\/OFF o distribuidores de encendido generalmente deben ser instalados al menos a 5 pies de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Trace las localizaciones para el desag\u00fce,** suministro y l\u00edneas el\u00e9ctricas, seg\u00fan las dimensiones de su manual de instalaci\u00f3n. Corte la abertura de desag\u00fce en el sub-piso asegur\u00e1ndose que el punto central est\u00e9 exactamente alineado con el orificio de desag\u00fce en la ba\u00f1era. Haga la abertura de desag\u00fce con una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n.\n\n**Instale una nueva l\u00ednea de empalme** con sif\u00f3n en P para la ba\u00f1era; el sif\u00f3n debe estar centrado en el \u00e1rea cortada para que se alinee exactamente con el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Construya un marco de soporte** como est\u00e1 esbozado en su manual, seg\u00fan el tipo de instalaci\u00f3n que est\u00e9 haciendo (ver p\u00e1gina 89). En esta foto, se est\u00e1 enmarcando una pared h\u00fameda en el \u00e1rea delantera de la ba\u00f1era; una pared de entramado de tama\u00f1o id\u00e9ntico es instalada en el rinc\u00f3n para sostener ese extremo de la ba\u00f1era. Despu\u00e9s que la ba\u00f1era es colocada, se construye una tercera pared para sostener el frente de la misma.\n\n**Instale los tubos ascendentes** con v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n. Aseg\u00farese de crear un panel de acceso para alcanzar f\u00e1cilmente la plomer\u00eda de suministro y desag\u00fce. Aqu\u00ed, ser\u00e1 removible una secci\u00f3n del tapizado sobre el lado de la habitaci\u00f3n de la pared h\u00fameda. Tambi\u00e9n debe asegurarse de tener acceso al motor y la bomba para la ba\u00f1era. En el modelo mostrado aqu\u00ed, un fald\u00f3n frontal removible permite un acceso amplio.\n\n**Instale una riostra** 1 \u00d7 4 en la cavidad de la pared de entramado para que pueda asegurar la tuber\u00eda de suministro usando abrazaderas para tubos.\n\n**Instale los nuevos circuitos el\u00e9ctricos** e instale recept\u00e1culos como lo indica el manual de instalaci\u00f3n; para esta parte del trabajo necesitar\u00e1 un permiso. Si no tiene suficiente experiencia con la electricidad dom\u00e9stica, contrate un profesional. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, necesitar\u00e1 un circuito dedicado para la bomba y otro (a menudo de 240 voltios) para el motor, y tal vez un tercer circuito para accesorios y perif\u00e9ricos tales como las luces.\n\n**Prepare circuitos adicionales** requeridos para la ba\u00f1era. Aqu\u00ed, un circuito est\u00e1 siendo puesto desde el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era hasta un interruptor de pared separado que regular\u00e1 el flujo de aire. Haga todo lo que pueda en la instalaci\u00f3n de electricidad y plomer\u00eda antes de colocar la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Instale los controles** de pared seg\u00fan las instrucciones del fabricante. Verifique en el departamento de inspecciones local; es probable que examinen sus l\u00edneas de electricidad y plomer\u00eda antes que la ba\u00f1era sea instalada.\n  **Consejo**\n\n**Aseg\u00farese que el** sub-piso est\u00e9 nivelado. Si encuentra un \u00e1rea baja (especialmente en la parte donde descansar\u00e1n las patas de la ba\u00f1era), rell\u00e9nela con compuesto nivelador de pisos (disponible en tiendas especializadas en pisos). Es importante que la ba\u00f1era est\u00e9 nivelada o tenga un declive muy suave hacia el desag\u00fce.\n\n**Conecte el montaje** de desag\u00fce\/rebose en la ba\u00f1era antes de la instalaci\u00f3n, usando empaquetaduras de caucho y compuesto para uniones. Mida la distancia que el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce deber\u00e1 tener para conectarse con el sif\u00f3n y rec\u00f3rtelo para ajustarlo (foto anexa).\n\n**Asegure el montaje** de desag\u00fce\/rebose apretando la placa de rebose y el colador sobre el montaje, desde dentro de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Coloque la ba\u00f1era** en el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n con cuidado para no estropear el montaje de desag\u00fce\/rebose. Aseg\u00farese que el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce se alinea exactamente sobre la abertura del sif\u00f3n en P.\n\n**Revise el nivel de la ba\u00f1era.** Si no est\u00e1 nivelada, aseg\u00farese que tenga contacto pleno con el sub-piso; si es necesario, acu\u00f1e debajo de una de las patas para nivelarla. No ponga cu\u00f1as debajo del fald\u00f3n si la ba\u00f1era ya tiene uno instalado.\n\n**Fije la ba\u00f1era nivelada** como es indicado en su manual de instalaci\u00f3n. Aqu\u00ed, zoquetes 2 \u00d7 4 son atornillados en el piso alrededor del per\u00edmetro de la ba\u00f1era para crear peque\u00f1os bordillos que eviten que la ba\u00f1era se mueva. Construya una pared de entramado 2 \u00d7 4 para sostener el borde frontal de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Conecte la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce** uniendo el ap\u00e9ndice al sif\u00f3n en P en el piso; use lubricante de roscas para lograr un buen sello en la uni\u00f3n deslizante.\n\n**Pruebe el sistema de desag\u00fce** para asegurar que no haya fugas. Usando una manguera, eche primero poca agua y examine visualmente las uniones deslizantes y el \u00e1rea alrededor del cuerpo de desag\u00fce. Si se ve bien, llene la ba\u00f1era m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de la l\u00ednea de rebose para asegurar que no tiene fugas el sello del tubo. Drene la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Haga las conexiones el\u00e9ctricas**. Aqu\u00ed, el trabajo duro ya est\u00e1 hecho, y los motores del soplador y la bomba s\u00f3lo necesitan ser conectados en sus recept\u00e1culos; si esta unidad tuviera un calentador, requerir\u00eda un circuito dedicado adicional. El motor del soplador tambi\u00e9n debe ser conectado al conductor desde el regulador de pared instalado en el paso 8.\n\n**Instale los paneles alrededor de la ba\u00f1era.** Si va a poner azulejos, use placa de fibrocemento; si va a instalar un juego prefabricado, servir\u00e1 una pared seca resistente al moho.\n\n**Instale los materiales de la pared,** dejando espacio para el pico y las v\u00e1lvulas.\n\n**Instale las v\u00e1lvulas de suministro** y con\u00e9ctelas a los tubos ascendentes. Las ba\u00f1eras no vienen taladradas para los grifos como pasa con los fregaderos, as\u00ed que debe decidir si hace agujeros para las v\u00e1lvulas en el borde de la tina usando una broca c\u00f3nica, o monta el grifo en la plataforma o el borde de la pared de soporte.\n\n**Ponga el pico y las manijas** y pruebe el sistema de suministro. Para eliminar detritos de las l\u00edneas, quite el aireador y deje fluir agua caliente y fr\u00eda durante un minuto.\n\n**Ponga el fald\u00f3n frontal removible** o la cubierta del panel de acceso. Luego, llene la ba\u00f1era y disfrute de un largo y delicioso ba\u00f1o.\n\n###   **Bid\u00e9s**\n\nLos bid\u00e9s son cada vez m\u00e1s populares en los Estados Unidos, tal vez porque dan a un ba\u00f1o de ensue\u00f1o ese destello europeo que muchos de nosotros encontramos encantador. Si vamos a Europa, Asia y Suram\u00e9rica, es com\u00fan ver cu\u00e1ntas personas dependen del uso de los bid\u00e9s; algunos fan\u00e1ticos del uso de este accesorio creen que quienes no lo utilizan son antihigi\u00e9nicos.\n\nCon la creciente tendencia hacia la construcci\u00f3n de cuartos de ba\u00f1o m\u00e1s grandes y lujosos, muchos norteamericanos est\u00e1n fascinados por las caracter\u00edsticas de este elemento de higiene personal. Los modelos disponibles est\u00e1ndar tienen grifos de agua caliente y fr\u00eda, y una boquilla movible localizada junto a las manijas, o un rociador vertical ubicado cerca del frente de la taza. La mayor\u00eda de los bid\u00e9s vienen equipados con un desag\u00fce autom\u00e1tico. Si tiene limitaciones de espacio, es posible comprar una combinaci\u00f3n de retrete y bid\u00e9.\n\nInstalar un bid\u00e9 es muy similar a instalar un lavamanos; la \u00fanica diferencia es que el bid\u00e9 puede tener la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce bajo el piso, como una ducha. Pero al igual que los lavamanos, pueden tener m\u00faltiples agujeros para grifos, as\u00ed que aseg\u00farese de comprar componentes compatibles.\n\n**Un bid\u00e9 es un gran complemento para un retrete,** un elemento de lujo que usted y su familia apreciar\u00e1, una novedad que querr\u00e1 compartir. Para personas con movilidad limitada, es una ayuda para el aseo personal independiente.\n\n**Los desag\u00fces de bid\u00e9s tienen m\u00e1s en com\u00fan** con los desag\u00fces de lavamanos que con los de retretes; incluso algunos se conectan a un brazo de desag\u00fce en la pared, con un sif\u00f3n en P que se acopla entre el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce de la instalaci\u00f3n y el brazo. Otros bid\u00e9s se conectan a un desag\u00fce de piso con un sif\u00f3n situado entre el ap\u00e9ndice y el ramal de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Un bid\u00e9 requiere un grifo especial** que le permite mezclar agua caliente y fr\u00eda a una temperatura agradable. Tiene un tercer bot\u00f3n para controlar la presi\u00f3n del agua. El aireador y el pivote del surtidor permiten ajustar el rociado a una altura c\u00f3moda.\n\n**Puede conseguir toda clase** accesorios de un bid\u00e9 para instalar en el retrete, con diferentes asientos en mercados alternos. Estos asientos tienen calentadores, rociadores y secadores en versiones b\u00e1sicas o de lujo. La instalaci\u00f3n toma menos de una hora y no se requiere espacio adicional.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un bid\u00e9**\n\n**Esboce las l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce** seg\u00fan las especificaciones del fabricante. Si no tiene experiencia en instalar plomer\u00eda dom\u00e9stica, contrate un plomero para esta parte del trabajo. Aplique masilla en la base del grifo, y luego introduzca el cuerpo del mismo en los agujeros de montaje; meta las arandelas y la contratuerca en el v\u00e1stago del grifo y apriete con la mano. Remueva la masilla sobrante.\n\n**Eche masilla alrededor** del rev\u00e9s de la brida del desag\u00fce. Envuelva los 2\/3 inferiores de la rosca de la brida con tres capas de cinta de tefl\u00f3n; aseg\u00farese de hacerlo en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj de tal forma que al apretar la tuerca no apretuje la cinta. Introduzca la brida en el agujero de desag\u00fce, ponga la empaquetadura y arandela, y luego enrosque la tuerca en la brida. No apriete demasiado.\n\n**Instale el aparato de desag\u00fce autom\u00e1tico** seg\u00fan las instrucciones del fabricante.\n\n**Ponga el bid\u00e9 en su localizaci\u00f3n final,** asegur\u00e1ndose que las l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce est\u00e9n alineadas. Marque la ubicaci\u00f3n de los dos agujeros de montaje laterales a trav\u00e9s de los orificios ya taladrados en la taza y sobre el piso.\n\n**Remueva el bid\u00e9 y haga agujeros gu\u00eda** de 3\/16\" en las marcas sobre el piso; meta los tornillos (que vienen con el bid\u00e9) en los agujeros, y coloque el bid\u00e9 de tal forma que los tornillos entren en los agujeros de la base.\n\n**Conecte los tubos ascendentes** de suministro en el grifo usando uniones de compresi\u00f3n; aseg\u00farese de unir los tubos de agua caliente y fr\u00eda a los orificios correspondientes en el grifo.\n\n**Conecte la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce uniendo el sif\u00f3n en P** al ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce. Luego el sif\u00f3n es conectado a un ramal de desag\u00fce que sale de la pared o el piso del mismo modo que en un desag\u00fce de lavamanos.\n\n**Remueva el aireador para eliminar detritos** en la l\u00ednea de suministro y luego abra el flujo de agua y tambi\u00e9n ambas llaves; Compruebe que no hay fugas y arr\u00e9glelas si las encuentra. Ponga y enrosque las tapas de los tornillos del piso. _Nota: no se deshaga del papel en el bid\u00e9\u2014regrese al retrete para secarse despu\u00e9s de utilizar el bid\u00e9 para limpieza\u2014._\n\n###   **Orinales**\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de personas considera el orinal como un accesorio de ba\u00f1o a nivel comercial o de uso industrial; siendo as\u00ed, \u00bfpor qu\u00e9 deber\u00edamos instalar uno en el ba\u00f1o que so\u00f1amos tener en nuestra casa? La respuesta radica en las muchas ventajas que ofrece y el hecho de que la mayor\u00eda de fabricantes de instalaciones sanitarias est\u00e1n produciendo orinales dise\u00f1ados para uso residencial. La plomer\u00eda es similar a la de un lavamanos, aunque tiene s\u00f3lo suministro de agua fr\u00eda.\n\nUn orinal no ocupa mucho espacio y utiliza mucha menos agua por descarga que un retrete est\u00e1ndar: de 0.5 a 1.0 gal\u00f3n, a diferencia de los 1.6 galones de un retrete de flujo bajo. Tambi\u00e9n tiene la opci\u00f3n de instalar un orinal sin agua, la cual es una gran alternativa para el ahorro de l\u00edquido. Finalmente, en t\u00e9rminos generales es mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil mantener limpio un orinal que un retrete porque se minimiza el salpicado.\n\nEn las viviendas actuales, con m\u00faltiples cuartos de ba\u00f1o, incluyendo los ba\u00f1os de habitaciones principales, hay muchos lugares que puede escoger para instalar un orinal. Naturalmente, el sitio perfecto es donde m\u00e1s ser\u00e1 usado: en el ba\u00f1o m\u00e1s cercano al televisor si los amigos se re\u00fanen en su casa para ver eventos deportivos, o el ba\u00f1o m\u00e1s pr\u00f3ximo a las alcobas de los muchachos si son muchos.\n\n**Los orinales ahorran** mucha agua y cada vez son m\u00e1s populares en los ba\u00f1os modernos que so\u00f1amos tener.\n  **Orinales sin agua**\n\nPara tener acceso a la \u00faltima novedad para el ahorro de agua, compre un orinal para la vivienda que no la utiliza en lo absoluto; nunca es descargado, as\u00ed que ahorrar\u00e1 un gal\u00f3n de agua por uso. Naturalmente, estos orinales son conectados al montaje de desag\u00fce; pero mientras las instalaciones t\u00edpicas dependen de agua para llevar el desecho al sistema, este orinal s\u00f3lo necesita de la gravedad para que el desecho l\u00edquido entre al desag\u00fce, gracias a una capa de l\u00edquido sellador que es m\u00e1s pesado que el agua y forma una nata sobre la orina. Cuando \u00e9sta entra al sif\u00f3n, desplaza el l\u00edquido sellador, que inmediatamente se reforma sobre la superficie para crear una capa que sella olores herm\u00e9ticamente. La instalaci\u00f3n Kohler vista aqu\u00ed (ver Recursos, p\u00e1g. 330) es un ejemplo de sistema con l\u00edquido sellador. Otros orinales sin agua usan cartuchos reemplazables.\n\n**La capa de l\u00edquido sellador** forma una nata que flota sobre el l\u00edquido para atrapar olores.\n\n####   **Opciones de descarga para orinales**\n\n**Una manija de descarga** manual todav\u00eda es el mecanismo m\u00e1s com\u00fan y menos costoso para orinales; es confiable pero no tan higi\u00e9nico como los que no requieren contacto, como el flux\u00f3metro en la p\u00e1gina 105.\n\n**Los sensores de movimiento** descargan autom\u00e1ticamente los orinales libres de contacto, lo cual es un gran avance tecnol\u00f3gico en la higiene. Sin embargo, estos tienden a ser m\u00e1s costosos y es m\u00e1s probable que tengan problemas; adem\u00e1s, debido a que se descargan autom\u00e1ticamente cuando los usuarios se alejan de la instalaci\u00f3n, no permiten ahorrar agua limitando la descarga.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un orinal**\n\n**Remueva la placa de yeso u otras cubiertas** de superficie entre la ubicaci\u00f3n del orinal y las l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce m\u00e1s cercanas. Quite suficiente pared para acceder a la mitad de la cara de los montantes en cada lado de la abertura y as\u00ed hacer m\u00e1s sencillo la instalaci\u00f3n del orinal.\n\n**Siguiendo las instrucciones del fabricante** para el orinal y el flux\u00f3metro, determine la altura de montaje del orinal y marque la ubicaci\u00f3n de las l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce. Para esta instalaci\u00f3n, la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce de 2\" est\u00e1 centrada a 17\u00bd\" del piso acabado. Haga muescas de 5\u00bd\" \u00d7 1\u00bd\" en los montantes centrados a 32\" del piso; luego pegue una tabla de montaje a 2 \u00d7 6.\n\n**Instale la tuber\u00eda de cobre de suministro** de agua fr\u00eda seg\u00fan las instrucciones del fabricante. Aqu\u00ed est\u00e1 a 4\u00be\" del lado de la l\u00ednea central de la instalaci\u00f3n, y a 45\" del piso acabado (a 11\u00bd\" de la parte superior de la instalaci\u00f3n). Tape la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce a 3\" de la superficie acabada de la pared. Instale el tubo de desag\u00fce y respiradero de 2\" asegur\u00e1ndose que la l\u00ednea central del desag\u00fce est\u00e9 posicionada correctamente (aqu\u00ed, a 17\u00bd\" del piso acabado y a 4\u00be\" de la l\u00ednea de suministro).\n\n**Una la salida de desechos al tubo de desag\u00fce;** debe sobresalir de la superficie de la pared acabada. Reponga el tapizado de pared y el acabado como desee.\n\n**Ponga las abrazaderas** de montaje a 32\" del piso, y a 3\u00bc\" de la l\u00ednea central de la salida de desechos.\n\n**Ponga cinta de tefl\u00f3n en la salida de desechos,** y enrosque en \u00e9sta el collar\u00edn hembra hasta que quede asentada firmemente y las bridas est\u00e9n niveladas horizontalmente. Ponga la empaquetadura sobre el collar\u00edn hembra; la superficie biselada mira hacia el orinal.\n\n**Ponga el orinal sobre las abrazaderas,** teniendo cuidado de no chocar contra la porcelana que se astilla f\u00e1cilmente. Meta los tornillos a trav\u00e9s de las arandelas, los agujeros del orinal y en el collar\u00edn. Apri\u00e9telos con la mano, y luego un giro completo con la llave inglesa; no se sobrepase.\n\n**Determine la distancia** desde la l\u00ednea central de la entrada de agua sobre el orinal, llamada spud, hasta la pared acabada. Sustraiga 1\u00bc\" de esta distancia y corte el tubo de suministro a esa longitud con un cortador de tubos, cerrando primero el flujo de agua. Despu\u00e9s, limpie el di\u00e1metro interno y externo del tubo, y coloque el adaptador roscado en el tubo cortado.\n\n**Mida desde la superficie de la pared** hasta la primera rosca del adaptador. Usando la sierra para metales y una caja de ingletes o un cortador de tubos, corte el tubo protector hasta esta longitud. Desl\u00edcelo sobre el tubo de suministro, y deslice la brida sobre \u00e9l hasta que pegue contra la pared. Apriete el tornillo fijador sobre la brida con una llave Allen.\n\n**Aplique una peque\u00f1a cantidad de sellador** de tubos en la rosca del adaptador, y enrosque en ella la llave de paso de control. Posicione el orificio de salida hacia el orinal para quede nivelado en forma horizontal.\n\n**Apriete con la mano el ap\u00e9ndice en el cuerpo** de la v\u00e1lvula del flux\u00f3metro.\n\n**Apriete con la mano la tuerca deslizante** que conecta el cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula con la llave de paso de control.\n\n**Use una llave** spud de quijada lisa para apretar bien el ap\u00e9ndice, rompevac\u00edo y acoplamientos del spud.\n\n**Mientras prueba la descarga,** ajuste el tornillo de la llave de paso del suministro en sentido contrario al de las manecillas del reloj hasta alcanzar el flujo adecuado.\n  **Consejo**\n\nPara una higiene m\u00e1xima, escoja un mecanismo de descarga con sensor electr\u00f3nico, como el flux\u00f3metro Kohler instalado aqu\u00ed. El ojo electr\u00f3nico en este mecanismo detecta cuando un usuario se acerca a la instalaci\u00f3n, y luego la activa para que descargue cuando el usuario se aleje. Esto elimina la necesidad de tocar la manija antes que la persona tenga la oportunidad de lavar sus manos.\n\n###   **Descalcificadores**\n\nSi por la tuber\u00eda de su casa corre agua dura, enfrentar\u00e1 un par de problemas. No s\u00f3lo el agua hace un mal trabajo al disolver el jab\u00f3n, tambi\u00e9n se acumulan muchos dep\u00f3sitos de incrustaciones sobre platos, instalaciones de plomer\u00eda y la parte interna del calentador de agua.\n\nLos descalcificadores arreglan estos problemas removiendo qu\u00edmicamente el calcio y magnesio responsables del agua dura (la que tiene m\u00e1s de 17 part\u00edculas de minerales por gal\u00f3n). Estas unidades son instaladas despu\u00e9s del contador, pero antes que la l\u00ednea de agua se ramifique a aparatos o instalaciones fijas, con una excepci\u00f3n: la tuber\u00eda hacia los grifos exteriores debe derivarse de la l\u00ednea principal antes del descalcificador, porque es un desperdicio de dinero tratar agua para uso externo.\n\nLos descalcificadores vienen con un tubo de rebose y un tubo de purga para remover los minerales que son extra\u00eddos del agua. Estos tubos deben ser conectados al desag\u00fce del piso o a un lavadero, que es la mejor opci\u00f3n si el fregadero est\u00e1 cerca.\n  **Conozca los tipos de sal**\n\nLa sal para descalcificadores viene en tres tipos b\u00e1sicos: sal gema, sal gruesa (cristales) y sal evaporada (bolitas). La sal gema es un mineral extra\u00eddo de dep\u00f3sitos salinos; la sal gruesa es un residuo cristalino que queda cuando el agua marina se evapora naturalmente, y a veces es vendida como bolitas o cubos; y la sal evaporada es similar a la anterior, pero el l\u00edquido en la salmuera es evaporado usando m\u00e9todos mec\u00e1nicos. La sal gema es la m\u00e1s barata, pero es la que m\u00e1s deja residuo y por lo tanto requiere una limpieza del tanque m\u00e1s frecuente. Las bolitas de sal evaporada son las m\u00e1s limpias y requieren el menor mantenimiento.\n\n**El descalcificador** es un aparato de dos partes que incluye el descalcificador propiamente dicho (a la izquierda, arriba) y un tanque de almacenamiento de sal (derecha).\n\n  **Agua suavizada**\n\nDesde el punto de vista de la plomer\u00eda, la mejor estrategia de descalcificaci\u00f3n de agua es ubicar el aparato cerca de la l\u00ednea principal de agua fr\u00eda solamente (como es visto en la foto); de esta forma son suavizadas el agua caliente y la fr\u00eda. Pero debido a que algunos se oponen al sabor alterado y la mayor salinidad del agua tratada, el descalcificador puede ser instalado despu\u00e9s que las tuber\u00edas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda hayan salido de la l\u00ednea principal. De este modo, el agua es tratada justo antes que entre al calentador, y el agua fr\u00eda permanece descalcificada.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un descalcificador**\n\n**El primer paso es medir la distancia** entre los orificios de derivaci\u00f3n del tanque y la l\u00ednea de suministro de agua fr\u00eda. Corte un tubo de cobre que se ajuste a este espacio y suelde uniones apropiadas en ambos extremos.\n\n**Instale el tubo de descarga** pl\u00e1stico en la cabeza del descalcificador siguiendo las instrucciones del fabricante.\n\n**El tubo de rebose** usualmente es conectado al lado del tanque del aparato. Dirija este tubo, junto con el tubo de descarga, a un desag\u00fce de piso o un lavadero.\n\n**Instale la v\u00e1lvula de derivaci\u00f3n** en la cabeza del descalcificador; un lado va en el orificio de entrada y el otro se acopla en el orificio de salida. Esta v\u00e1lvula es fijada con simples grapas pl\u00e1sticas o uniones roscadas. _Nota: revise en los c\u00f3digos locales los requerimientos del tubo de derivaci\u00f3n._\n\n**Conecte el tubo de cobre** que suministra el agua a la v\u00e1lvula de derivaci\u00f3n; para esta unidad, el empalme es hecho con una uni\u00f3n de rosca macho que se enrosca en los orificios de la v\u00e1lvula.\n\n**Apriete las dos tuercas** del tubo de suministro; no se sobrepase.\n\n**Conecte el tubo de cobre** del descalcificador a las l\u00edneas de suministro. Limpie todas las uniones y tubos con virutas de acero; luego aplique fundente en las partes y su\u00e9ldelas con antorcha de propano. Para m\u00e1s informaci\u00f3n sobre soldar cobre, ver la p\u00e1gina 276.\n\n**Abra el suministro de agua** y aseg\u00farese que la instalaci\u00f3n funcione bien; si ve fugas, arr\u00e9glelas. Luego agregue las bolitas de descalcificaci\u00f3n en las cantidades indicadas en el paquete.\n\n###   **Dispensadores de agua caliente**\n\nTodav\u00eda es f\u00e1cil encontrar refrigeradores que no tienen instalados un dispensador de agua fr\u00eda en su puerta, pero tambi\u00e9n hay que recorrer mucho camino para ver uno. Esto tiene que ver con las personas que buscan comodidad; en muchas formas, el dispensador de agua caliente es aun m\u00e1s conveniente que uno de agua fr\u00eda. Hay muchas bebidas y alimentos que necesitan s\u00f3lo un chorro de agua caliente para quedar listos: una taza de caf\u00e9, una de t\u00e9, el chocolate, un caldo instant\u00e1neo, los cereales, o simplemente agua caliente con lim\u00f3n para nombrar apenas algunos; y no hay una forma m\u00e1s r\u00e1pida de tener acceso al agua caliente que por medio de un dispensador. Estas unidades est\u00e1n dise\u00f1adas para acoplarse en el agujero extra de muchas cubiertas de fregaderos de cocina. Pero, si no lo tiene, puede reemplazar la manguera rociadora con el dispensador; o, si quiere conservar la manguera, simplemente haga un agujero adicional en el fregadero o la encimera para colocar el grifo del dispensador.\n\n_Nota: instalar este aparato requiere trabajo de plomer\u00eda y electricidad; si no est\u00e1 seguro de su destreza en estas \u00e1reas, contrate un profesional. (Aseg\u00farese de revisar los c\u00f3digos locales antes de empezar)._\n  **Tomacorriente \/ interruptor**\n\n**Tres cables son conectados** al interruptor\/tomacorriente. Un cable caliente es el conductor de alimentaci\u00f3n que lleva energ\u00eda a la caja; es unido al lado del interruptor que tiene una plaqueta de conexi\u00f3n. El otro cable caliente lleva corriente, y es conectado al terminal de tornillo de bronce en el lado que no tiene plaqueta. El cable blanco neutral es conectado al terminal de tornillo plateado. Los cables a tierra deben ser unidos al tornillo de tierra del interruptor\/tomacorriente y a la caja de cableado met\u00e1lico puesto a tierra.\n\n**El agua caliente** usada cuando es necesaria no s\u00f3lo es una comodidad, tambi\u00e9n ayuda a ahorrar energ\u00eda y l\u00edquido.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un dispensador de agua caliente**\n\n**Haga un agujero de acceso** para un nuevo cable de energ\u00eda (en conducto flexible) en el fondo del gabinete del fregadero; use un taladro y una broca de \u00be\" de di\u00e1metro. Entre en el s\u00f3tano y haga un agujero arriba en el piso, que se alinear\u00e1 con el primero (o haga otros arreglos para pasar el circuito como crea conveniente).\n\n**Pase un cable** 14\/2 \u00f3 12\/2 del tablero de servicio a trav\u00e9s del agujero en el piso. Quite el forro del cable con una navaja; tambi\u00e9n remueva el aislamiento de los cables con un abridor de cables, pero tenga cuidado de no averiar la envoltura aislante.\n\n**Deslice el conducto flexible sobre los cables** , de tal forma que sean protegidos desde el punto que salen del piso del gabinete hasta entrar a la caja el\u00e9ctrica. Una el conducto a la caja con un conector para que al menos 8\" de cable penetren en ella.\n\n**Instale un tomacorriente con interruptor.** Monte una caja met\u00e1lica doble en la pared del gabinete. Luego conecte el cable negro en el tornillo de bronce, y el cable neutral blanco en el tornillo plateado del tomacorriente. Una el cable de toma a tierra al terminal de tierra del tomacorriente.\n\n**Conecte el suministro de agua,** que para el dispensador viene de la l\u00ednea de agua fr\u00eda bajo el fregadero. Ponga una te en este tubo, debajo de la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n, apretando alternadamente los tornillos de la te en ambos lados con una llave inglesa.\n\n**Determine el mejor** lugar para el calentador del dispensador, usualmente sobre la pared del gabinete, de tal forma que su enchufe alcance el tomacorriente. Atornille la abrazadera de montaje en la pared y cuelgue el calentador en ella.\n\n**Para reemplazar una** manguera rociadora con el grifo del dispensador, quite la tuerca que fija el rociador en el fregadero. Luego remueva el extremo de la manguera de su orificio en la parte inferior del grifo, usando una llave inglesa; esto la soltar\u00e1 para que pueda ser sacada del fregadero. Tape la parte de la manguera sobre el grifo.\n\n**El grifo del dispensador** est\u00e1 dise\u00f1ado para acoplarse a un agujero est\u00e1ndar de fregadero. Para instalarlo, simplemente junte los tubos de suministro para que quepan en el agujero, y col\u00f3quelo. La unidad es fijada por una arandela y un tornillo de cierre que es apretado desde abajo del fregadero.\n\n**Una el grifo a la te del fregadero con un tubo flexible.** Mida esta pieza, haga el corte con un cortador de tubos, e instale tuercas de compresi\u00f3n y casquillos en ambos extremos. Deslice un extremo del tubo en la v\u00e1lvula y apriete la tuerca con la llave inglesa.\n\n**Conecte los dos tubos de cobre** en el calentador con uniones de compresi\u00f3n y apri\u00e9telos con la llave inglesa. En el modelo visto aqu\u00ed, la unidad tiene tres tubos; uno suministra agua fr\u00eda al calentador, otro agua caliente al grifo, y una tercera manguera pl\u00e1stica clara act\u00faa como respiradero y es conectada a un tanque de expansi\u00f3n dentro del calentador.\n\n**Deslice el extremo** del tubo de respiraci\u00f3n pl\u00e1stico en la entrerrosca del tanque y f\u00edjelo siguiendo las instrucciones dadas por del fabricante. En algunos modelos se utiliza un cierre de resorte, en otros se requieren una abrazadera.\n\n**Instale el cable** de energ\u00eda del calentador en el tablero de servicio. Empiece apagando el interruptor principal; luego, remueva el panel de la puerta exterior y quite una de las placas de la parte superior o el costado de la caja. Ponga una abrazadera de cable dentro de este agujero, empuje el cable a trav\u00e9s de la abrazadera, y apriete \u00e9sta para fijarlo.\n\n**Quite la envoltura** del cable dentro del panel y remueva el aislamiento de los extremos en los cables negro y blanco. Afloje un tornillo patilla sobre la barra conectora neutral y empuje el cable debajo de la agarradera; conecte el cable de toma a tierra en la barra conectora. Luego apriete muy bien estos tornillos.\n\n**Afloje el tornillo de conexi\u00f3n** en un cortacircuito est\u00e1ndar de 15 amperios y ponga debajo de esta patilla el extremo del cable negro (activo). Apri\u00e9tela con un destornillador; luego instale el disyuntor en la barra conectora activa presion\u00e1ndolo en su sitio.\n\n**Cuando se instala** un nuevo cortacircuito, la tapa del tablero de servicio debe ser modificada para que se ajuste sobre \u00e9l. Con alicates, quite la placa protectora que cubre la posici\u00f3n del cortacircuito; atornille la tapa en el panel y prenda el cortacircuito principal. Abra el suministro de agua para el dispensador y ench\u00fafelo en el tomacorriente; prenda el interruptor, espere quince minutos y verifique que el sistema est\u00e9 funcionando bien.\n\n###   **M\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo**\n\nLos refrigeradores m\u00e1s costosos vienen con m\u00e1quinas para hacer hielo instaladas como equipo est\u00e1ndar, y pr\u00e1cticamente todos los modelos las tienen como una opci\u00f3n (un refrigerador con esta m\u00e1quina usualmente cuesta m\u00e1s dinero). Tambi\u00e9n se puede comprar una m\u00e1quina para actualizar el viejo refrigerador.\n\nInstalar la m\u00e1quina es muy sencillo, especialmente si compra una hecha por el mismo fabricante del refrigerador. La mayor\u00eda de tiendas de electrodom\u00e9sticos tienen la informaci\u00f3n espec\u00edfica del refrigerador; aseg\u00farese de llevar el n\u00famero del modelo.\n\nUsar equipo del mismo fabricante asegura un acople apropiado; los tornillos encajan en los agujeros del refrigerador. La parte m\u00e1s dif\u00edcil es suministrar agua desde un suministro conveniente; por estar en la cocina, una fuente l\u00f3gica es la l\u00ednea de agua fr\u00eda bajo el fregadero. A menudo, haciendo un peque\u00f1o agujero en el piso, se tiene acceso a una l\u00ednea cercana en el s\u00f3tano sin tener que pasar el tubo detr\u00e1s o a trav\u00e9s de gabinetes.\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de las m\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo vienen preinstaladas o son compradas como accesorio al adquirir un nuevo refrigerador. Pero si tiene un refrigerador antiguo sin esa funci\u00f3n y desea agregarla, no todo est\u00e1 perdido. Revise la parte trasera de la unidad, detr\u00e1s del congelador; si el refrigerador tiene el montaje requerido para una m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo, ver\u00e1 un orificio cubierto con un papel protector. En ese caso, todo lo que necesita hacer es llevar la informaci\u00f3n de la marca y el modelo a un almac\u00e9n de partes de electrodom\u00e9sticos donde le vender\u00e1n una m\u00e1quina de hielo de diferentes marcas. Tenga en cuenta que tendr\u00e1 que gastar una considerable suma de dinero.\n\n**Una m\u00e1quina para** hacer hielo empotrada es f\u00e1cil de instalar como un aparato extra en la mayor\u00eda de los refrigeradores modernos. Si desea tener un interminable suministro de hielo para uso dom\u00e9stico, es probable que se pregunte por qu\u00e9 no tuvo antes este aparato.\n\n  **C\u00f3mo funcionan la m\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo**\n\nUna m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo recibe su suministro de agua a trav\u00e9s de una tuber\u00eda de cobre de \u00bc\" que va desde el aparato hasta un tubo de agua. La l\u00ednea de suministro pasa por una v\u00e1lvula en el refrigerador y es controlada por un solenoide que monitorea el flujo de agua y la env\u00eda a la m\u00e1quina misma, donde es convertida en cubos de hielo. Estos caen en un compartimento y cuando el nivel de hielo aumenta, tambi\u00e9n eleva una barra que es conectada a una v\u00e1lvula. Cuando el compartimento se llena, la barra est\u00e1 lo suficientemente alta para activar un mecanismo que cierra el suministro de agua.\n\n**Las m\u00e1quinas de** hielo autom\u00e1ticas de otras marcas son f\u00e1ciles de instalar siempre que el refrigerador sea compatible con el aparato. Aseg\u00farese de comprar el modelo correcto y haga con cuidado el trabajo de instalaci\u00f3n\u2014las l\u00edneas de suministro de este aparato son fuentes de fugas\u2014.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo**\n\n**Saque todo el contenido del refrigerador** y el congelador y p\u00f3ngalo en cubetas de hielo o en el refrigerador de un vecino. Desconecte la unidad y sep\u00e1rela de la pared. Luego abra la puerta del congelador y desmonte la placa de la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo en la parte posterior del compartimento.\n\n**Sobre el lado trasero del refrigerador,** remueva el papel protector o desatornille el panel de acceso de la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo que cubre el orificio para el aparato.\n\n**Localice y limpie las partes;** una abertura es para la l\u00ednea de agua, la otra es para un arn\u00e9s de cableado. Usualmente, estos orificios tienen tapones de aislamiento que impiden que el aire fr\u00edo del congelador se escape a la habitaci\u00f3n. Remu\u00e9valos con alicates planos.\n\n**Instale el montaje del tubo de agua** (parte de la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo) en su orificio de acceso sobre la parte trasera del refrigerador. Este montaje tiene un codo pegado al tubo pl\u00e1stico que penetra en el congelador.\n\n**Conecte el arn\u00e9s.** Las m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo usualmente vienen con un arn\u00e9s que une los cables de energ\u00eda con el motor del aparato dentro del congelador. Empuje el arn\u00e9s a trav\u00e9s de su orificio de acceso y dentro del congelador; luego selle la abertura con el ojal pl\u00e1stico que viene con \u00e9l.\n\n**Conecte el extremo** del arn\u00e9s en el conector de alimentaci\u00f3n preinstalado en la parte trasera del refrigerador. La conexi\u00f3n debe descansar sobre esa parte; si no es as\u00ed, p\u00e9guela con cinta adhesiva o cinta para enmascarar.\n\n**El tubo del agua** en la parte superior del refrigerador es unido al solenoide montado en la parte inferior con una l\u00ednea de suministro pl\u00e1stica. Para instalar la l\u00ednea, primero con\u00e9ctela al tubo del agua, luego b\u00e1jela por la parte trasera del refrigerador y p\u00e9guela a la v\u00e1lvula de solenoide con una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n. Es mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil hacer este trabajo antes de conectar el montaje del solenoide en el gabinete del refrigerador.\n\n**El arn\u00e9s de cableado** viene con dos conectores por presi\u00f3n; uno va a los cables preinstalados en el refrigerador y el otro es unido al solenoide. Simplemente empuje este \u00faltimo sobre las plaquetas de bronce, usualmente en la parte superior del solenoide.\n\n**Conecte el solenoide** en una abrazadera de montaje que debe estar instalada sobre la pared del gabinete en la parte inferior del refrigerador. Los agujeros de montaje pueden estar ya taladrados en el gabinete; si no es as\u00ed, h\u00e1galos para que se ajusten a la abrazadera y al tama\u00f1o de los tornillos. Luego pegue la abrazadera y aseg\u00farese de conectar el cable a tierra del solenoide en uno de estos tornillos.\n\n**Instale el tubo de cobre** de entrada de agua una vez que el solenoide est\u00e9 montado; con\u00e9ctelo apretando la tuerca en un extremo con alicates tipo canal. El otro extremo del tubo es fijado al gabinete de la nevera con una simple abrazadera. Aseg\u00farese que el extremo de este tubo apunte directo hacia arriba.\n\n**El extremo del tubo** de entrada de agua es conectado al tubo de suministro (del sistema de plomer\u00eda dom\u00e9stica) con una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n de bronce. Apriete las tuercas con una llave inglesa ajustable o una llave espa\u00f1ola.\n\n**Dirija el tubo** del agua hacia el gabinete del fregadero o a trav\u00e9s del piso hasta un tubo de agua fr\u00eda abajo. Cierre el suministro en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n m\u00e1s cercana. Instale una uni\u00f3n T en la tuber\u00eda. Luego conecte el tubo de la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo en la T por medio de una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n.\n\n**Desde dentro del congelador** , aseg\u00farese que el tubo del agua y el arn\u00e9s de cableado (de la parte trasera del refrigerador) est\u00e9n sueltos; si est\u00e1n aprisionados sobre el gabinete, su\u00e9ltelos hasta que queden f\u00e1cilmente accesibles.\n\n**Conecte el arn\u00e9s en el tap\u00f3n** sobre la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo; tambi\u00e9n una el tubo del agua en la parte trasera de la unidad por medio de un cierre de resorte o una abrazadera para la manguera.\n\n**Instale la m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo.** Con un cuchillo de enmasillar angosto, remueva las peque\u00f1as tapas de caucho que pueden estar en los agujeros de montaje. Levante la unidad y atorn\u00edllela en la pared del congelador. Los agujeros de la abrazadera de montaje usualmente son ranurados para nivelar la unidad. Enchufe el refrigerador y luego pruebe el aparato.\n\n###   **Llenadores de ollas**\n\nLas tendencias en dise\u00f1o de cocinas cada vez se acercan m\u00e1s a duplicar las cocinas comerciales en el hogar; un ejemplo de esto es el llenador de olla, un grifo de cuello largo que se monta en la pared detr\u00e1s de la vitrocer\u00e1mica y permite el suministro directo de agua en ollas grandes, inc\u00f3modas de cargar del fregadero a la estufa.\n\nAunque hay modelos que se montan horizontalmente, la mayor\u00eda de llenadores de ollas son unidos a la pared. Casi todos son dise\u00f1ados s\u00f3lo para agua fr\u00eda; algunos tienen dos v\u00e1lvulas, una en la pared y otra en el extremo del pico; otros modelos pueden ser activados con un pedal para uso seguro sin las manos.\n\nEl llenador de ollas requiere de tuber\u00eda de suministro aprobada por los c\u00f3digos (\u00bd\" en la mayor\u00eda de casos), conectada con una uni\u00f3n permanente en otra l\u00ednea de suministro o la principal. El mejor momento para instalar una nueva l\u00ednea es durante una remodelaci\u00f3n; pero modernizar una l\u00ednea y montar un llenador de olla no es tan dif\u00edcil como proyecto independiente. Usar tuber\u00eda PEX har\u00e1 m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil instalar la nueva l\u00ednea en paredes acabadas (ver p\u00e1ginas 288 a  para cortar y poner PEX).\n\n**El llenador de olla** es un grifo de agua fr\u00eda que se instala arriba de la vitrocer\u00e1mica para echar agua a ollas grandes sin tener que cargarlas llenas y pesadas en la cocina.\n\n**Planee la ruta** para la nueva l\u00ednea de suministro. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, entrar\u00e1 a la cavidad del montante de la pared y pondr\u00e1 una nueva l\u00ednea directamente hacia arriba, m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de la altura del salpicadero de la encimera (A). Si el salpicadero es removible, evite el parcheo de la pared instalando la tuber\u00eda detr\u00e1s de ella (B). Tambi\u00e9n puede poner la l\u00ednea de suministro debajo de la cocina si hay un s\u00f3tano sin terminar (C).\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un llenador de ollas**\n\n**Cierre el suministro** y localice el tubo ascendente de agua fr\u00eda en el fregadero. Corte el tubo e instale una uni\u00f3n T, o reemplace la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n vieja con una de m\u00faltiple salida, que tenga salida para el tubo de suministro de \u00bd\" para el llenador de ollas.\n\n**Planee la ruta para la nueva l\u00ednea de suministro** empezando en la uni\u00f3n T y siguiendo hacia el \u00e1rea de la vitrocer\u00e1mica. Determine la altura de la nueva l\u00ednea y luego haga cordeles entizados desde el fregadero hasta la vitrocer\u00e1mica. Con la energ\u00eda el\u00e9ctrica apagada, remueva el tapizado de pared a 2\" arriba y debajo del cordel entizado y en la ubicaci\u00f3n para la salida del llenador de ollas. Aseg\u00farese que la localizaci\u00f3n sea suficientemente elevada para colocar su olla m\u00e1s alta.\n\n**Haga orificios de** \u00be\" en el marco para los tubos de suministro, e instale placas protectoras si los agujeros est\u00e1n dentro de 1\u00bc\" del borde del montante. Ponga PEX de 1\u00bc\" desde el tubo ascendente, a trav\u00e9s de los agujeros, hasta el sitio del llenador de ollas (anexo).\n\n**Conecte la nueva l\u00ednea PEX** en la uni\u00f3n T en el tubo ascendente, instalando en ella una v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n accesible.\n\n**En la vitrocer\u00e1mica,** instale la uni\u00f3n del grifo como lo especifica el fabricante; agregue el entramado que sea necesario. El llenador de ollas instalado aqu\u00ed se conecta a la uni\u00f3n \"L\" con orejas, montada en el entramado. Aplique compuesto para uniones en la entrada del grifo y enr\u00f3squelo en la uni\u00f3n L.\n\n**Corte e instale** el parche de la pared. Ponga la brida sobre el ap\u00e9ndice de entrada. Aplique compuesto para uniones en las roscas del grifo, y \u00e1rmelo seg\u00fan las instrucciones del fabricante. Pru\u00e9belo antes de barnizar la pared.\n\n###   **Filtros de agua por \u00f3smosis inversa**\n\nNo toda el agua es igual. Hay sabores mejores que otros; hay agua que se ve mejor, y la hay con m\u00e1s impurezas. Debido a que nadie quiere beber agua mala, el negocio del agua embotellada ha florecido en los \u00faltimos veinte a\u00f1os, y los sistemas de filtraci\u00f3n dom\u00e9sticos tambi\u00e9n han crecido con rapidez, en parte porque hay disponibles diferentes tipos de filtros.\n\nPor ejemplo, los filtros de sedimentos remueven el \u00f3xido, la arena y los minerales suspendidos como el hierro. Un filtro de carb\u00f3n remueve los olores de cloro residual, de algunos pesticidas e incluso el gas rad\u00f3n. Los filtros por destilaci\u00f3n remueven las bacterias y los compuestos org\u00e1nicos, mientras un filtro descalcificador tradicional neutraliza el agua dura. Sin embargo, muchas de las impurezas m\u00e1s t\u00f3xicas, los metales pesados como el mercurio, el plomo, el cadmio y el ars\u00e9nico, son eliminados mejor con un sistema de \u00f3smosis inversa (RO), como el mostrado en el ejemplo.\n\nEstos filtros son dise\u00f1ados para tratar s\u00f3lo el agua potable y el agua para cocinar. El sistema contiene el agua tratada en un tanque de almacenaje y la pasa a un grifo montado en el fregadero cuando es requerida. Las unidades RO tienen m\u00faltiples cartuchos de filtraci\u00f3n, en este caso una unidad pre-filtro, seguida por la membrana RO, y luego un post-filtro de carb\u00f3n.\n\n**Los filtros por \u00f3smosis inversa** son muy eficaces para remover contaminantes espec\u00edficos del agua potable. Debido a que el proceso de filtraci\u00f3n gasta mucha agua, es buena idea que haga probar profesionalmente su agua antes de invertir en un sistema RO.\n\n  **Filtros en su lugar de uso**\n\nLos sistemas de filtraci\u00f3n de agua en su lugar de uso son por lo general instalados en el gabinete del fregadero, con un grifo separado del grifo principal. El sistema mostrado aqu\u00ed tiene un filtro adicional para una m\u00e1quina de hacer hielo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un filtro de agua por \u00f3smosis inversa**\n\n**Instale la membrana RO** que viene en una bolsa separada que es llenada con un fluido antibacterial. Usando guantes pl\u00e1sticos, remueva el cartucho de la bolsa e inst\u00e1lelo en la unidad del filtro; aseg\u00farese de tocar s\u00f3lo los extremos del cartucho cuando lo coja, porque podr\u00eda da\u00f1ar la membrana.\n\n**Siga las instrucciones** del fabricante para determinar la mejor ubicaci\u00f3n para el filtro dentro del gabinete del fregadero. Clave tornillos de montaje en la pared del gabinete para sostener la unidad.\n\n**Arme todo el sistema de filtraci\u00f3n** y luego cu\u00e9lguelo en la pared del gabinete. La mejor disposici\u00f3n puede ser el filtro sobre una pared y el tanque de almacenaje en la pared opuesta.\n\n**Ponga la v\u00e1lvula en el lado del tanque de almacenaje.** Simplemente envuelva la rosca un par de veces con cinta de tefl\u00f3n y enrosque la v\u00e1lvula en el tanque; apriete con la mano y luego haga otro giro con la llave inglesa.\n\n**Conecte el filtro en el tanque con tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica.** En la mayor\u00eda de unidades, el empalme es hecho con una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n; en este filtro, la junta es un collar a presi\u00f3n. Simplemente introduzca la manguera en el collar hasta que no avance m\u00e1s.\n\n**Conecte el tanque de almacenaje** y el grifo con tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica. Aqu\u00ed fue usada una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n en el extremo del tubo. Para instalarla, empuje el extremo de la uni\u00f3n sobre el v\u00e1stago del grifo hasta que la uni\u00f3n toque fondo.\n\n**El grifo del filtro viene con una contratuerca** y a veces un separador pl\u00e1stico (como en esta unidad) que va en el v\u00e1stago antes de ella. Despu\u00e9s de apretar la tuerca con la mano, aj\u00fastela m\u00e1s con una llave inglesa.\n\n**Monte el grifo en la cubierta del fregadero,** siguiendo las instrucciones del fabricante.\n\n**El suministro de l\u00edquido para el filtro** viene de la l\u00ednea de agua fr\u00eda que alimenta el grifo del fregadero. La forma m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil de aprovechar la l\u00ednea de suministro es reemplazar la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n en el tubo ascendente con una nueva v\u00e1lvula que tenga una salida adicional para tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Conecte el tubo del filtro** en el orificio de la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n con una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n. Empuje el extremo del tubo sobre la v\u00e1lvula, luego presione el casquillo contra ella y enrosque la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n. Apri\u00e9tela con la mano y luego haga otro giro completo con la llave inglesa.\n\n**El filtro tambi\u00e9n debe ser conectado** en el sistema de desag\u00fce. La mejor forma de hacerlo es reemplazar el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce con uno nuevo que tenga un orificio auxiliar.\n\n**Conecte el tubo de desag\u00fce** en el orificio auxiliar del ap\u00e9ndice. Termine abriendo el suministro de agua y revisando si hay fugas en el sistema. Antes de beberla, aseg\u00farese de filtrar y drenar al menos dos veces el tanque de agua para limpiar contaminantes del sistema.\n  **Instalaci\u00f3n de un sistema de filtraci\u00f3n para toda la casa**\n\nEl sistema de filtraci\u00f3n de agua para toda la casa es instalado en la tuber\u00eda de suministro localizada despu\u00e9s del contador, pero antes de cualquier otro aparato en la tuber\u00eda. Un sistema para toda la vivienda se reduce a los mismos elementos de un montaje bajo el fregadero y tambi\u00e9n ayuda a disminuir el hierro que fluye al descalcificador, prolongando su vida \u00fatil.\n\nSiga siempre las instrucciones del fabricante para su unidad particular. Si el sistema el\u00e9ctrico est\u00e1 conectado a tierra a trav\u00e9s de la tuber\u00eda de agua, aseg\u00farese de instalar abrazaderas para tubo a tierra en ambos lados de la unidad de filtraci\u00f3n con un cable conector. Las v\u00e1lvulas de globo deben ser instaladas dentro de 6\" de los extremos de entrada y salida del filtro.\n\nLos filtros deben ser reemplazados cada tantos meses, dependiendo del tipo de fabricante. La cubierta de la unidad se desenrosca para tener acceso al filtro.\n\n**Un sistema de filtraci\u00f3n de agua para toda la casa:** (A) extremo de entrada, (B) tuber\u00eda de suministro despu\u00e9s del contador, (C) extremo de salida hacia el suministro para la casa, (D) filtro, y (E) cubierta de la unidad.\n\n**Cierre el suministro principal** y abra los grifos para drenar la tuber\u00eda. Ponga la unidad despu\u00e9s del contador, pero antes de cualquier otro aparato en la l\u00ednea de suministro. Mida y marque la tuber\u00eda para acomodar la unidad de filtraci\u00f3n; corte en las marcas con un cortador de tubos. Una el tubo del lado del contador con el extremo de entrada de la unidad, y el del lado de suministro de la casa con el extremo de salida. Apriete con la llave inglesa.\n\n**Instale un filtro y enrosque la cubierta en la** unidad. Ponga un cable conector para tubos en otro lado de la unidad usando abrazaderas. Abra las l\u00edneas principales para restablecer el suministro de agua. Deje los grifos abiertos por unos minutos, mientras revisa si el sistema est\u00e1 funcionando bien.\n\n###   **Grifos a prueba de congelamiento**\n\nSi vive en una parte del mundo donde se registran temperaturas de congelaci\u00f3n por largos per\u00edodos, considere reemplazar su viejo grifo exterior con un modelo a prueba de escarcha. En este proyecto veremos c\u00f3mo poner el nuevo grifo usando uniones de compresi\u00f3n, de tal forma que no se requiera antorcha o soldadura fundida.\n\nNo hay problema en usar uniones de compresi\u00f3n en sitios accesibles, como entre las vigas de un piso abierto en un s\u00f3tano; el c\u00f3digo de construcci\u00f3n proh\u00edbe su uso en paredes y pisos encerrados. Para ver si su grifo exterior puede ser reemplazado de acuerdo a los pasos esbozados aqu\u00ed, vea la p\u00e1gina siguiente.\n\n**\u00bfSe congel\u00f3 de nuevo el grifo exterior?** Reempl\u00e1celo con uno que nunca tenga que cerrar en el invierno.\n  **Composici\u00f3n de un grifo a prueba de congelamiento**\n\nEl grifo mostrado aqu\u00ed permanece activo todo el invierno porque la arandela del v\u00e1stago corta el agua en el interior c\u00e1lido de la casa. El eje debe estar inclinado ligeramente hacia afuera para que el agua se escurra. Este tubo de suministro es conectado al adaptador roscado con una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n, que es fijada en el tubo con dos llaves inglesas. No use los pasos descritos si se aplica algo de lo siguiente:\n\n\u2022 Sus tubos son de acero en lugar de cobre.\n\n\u2022 La longitud del tubo del grifo hasta donde puede trabajar c\u00f3modamente es mayor de 12\".\n\n\u2022 El tubo tiene una v\u00e1lvula o cambio de direcci\u00f3n dentro de 10\" del grifo existente.\n\n\u2022 El tubo de suministro tiene un di\u00e1metro externo de 5\/8\" al ser medido con la llave inglesa, y no puede hacer el agujero en la pared m\u00e1s grande para acomodar el eje m\u00e1s grueso del grifo a prueba de congelamiento. (Por ejemplo, el agujero est\u00e1 en una base de concreto).\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo cambiar un grifo por uno a prueba de congelamiento**\n\n**Corte el agua del grifo exterior** en la v\u00e1lvula que se encuentra dentro de la casa o s\u00f3tano detr\u00e1s del grifo (ver p\u00e1gina 6 si tiene problemas para cortar el agua). Abra el grifo exterior, y el de vaciado de la v\u00e1lvula, para drenar el agua remanente del tubo.\n\n**Cuando est\u00e9 seguro que se ha detenido el flujo de** agua, use el cortador de tubos para seccionar el tubo de suministro entre la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n y el grifo; haga este primer corte cerca de la pared. Apriete el cortador sobre el tubo; ambas ruedas deben tener contacto pleno y uniforme sobre el tubo. Gire el cortador alrededor de \u00e9l; la l\u00ednea que corta debe hacer un c\u00edrculo perfecto, no una espiral. Si no se empalma bien, int\u00e9ntelo en un punto ligeramente distinto; cuando el cortador se acople bien, apri\u00e9telo un poco con cada rotaci\u00f3n hasta que el tubo se quiebre.\n\n**Quite los tornillos** de la brida del viejo grifo exterior y s\u00e1quelo del agujero junto con el tubo. Mida el di\u00e1metro externo del tubo; deber\u00eda ser de 5\/8\", lo que significa que tiene \u00bd\" de tubo nominal, o7\/8\", con lo cual tiene \u00be\" de tubo nominal. Mida el di\u00e1metro del agujero en la viga; si tiene menos de 1\", probablemente debe hacerlo m\u00e1s grande. Mida la longitud del tubo desde el extremo del corte hasta donde entra en el grifo; esta es la longitud m\u00ednima que el nuevo grifo debe tener para alcanzar el tubo viejo. Registre esta informaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Encuentre el punto** en el tubo donde tenga buen acceso para trabajar con una uni\u00f3n y llaves; la idea es ayudarle a escoger un nuevo grifo exterior que tenga el mejor tama\u00f1o para su proyecto. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, tendr\u00e1 para elegir s\u00f3lo dos o tres tama\u00f1os de eje de 6\" a 12\". En el ejemplo visto aqu\u00ed, la secci\u00f3n cortada del tubo tiene 6\" de largo, y una distancia de 3\", desde el extremo cortado hasta un punto con buen acceso en el tubo intacto, as\u00ed que un nuevo grifo de 9\" de largo se ajustar\u00eda perfectamente.\n\n**Si necesita cambiar** el tubo viejo con un di\u00e1metro m\u00e1s grande, simplifique el trabajo de agrandar el agujero de entrada en su casa con una sencilla gu\u00eda del taladro. Primero, haga un orificio perpendicular de 1-1\/8\" de di\u00e1metro en una tabla peque\u00f1a. Desde afuera, sostenga la tabla sobre el viejo agujero de tal forma que queden alineados (puede clavarla o atornillarla si lo desea). Pase el taladro a trav\u00e9s del hueco gu\u00eda para hacer el nuevo agujero m\u00e1s ancho y m\u00e1s bajo en la pared.\n\n**Introduzca el grifo en el agujero desde afuera.** Corte el tubo donde se unir\u00e1 con el extremo del grifo. Desde adentro, envuelva cinta de tefl\u00f3n en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj sobre la rosca. Estabilice el grifo con una llave inglesa y apriete bien el adaptador sobre el extremo roscado usando la otra llave.\n\n**Introduzca el extremo del tubo de suministro** en el adaptador y ac\u00f3plelos. Gire el eje del grifo de tal forma que afuera quede orientado correctamente (debe haber una l\u00ednea de referencia en un extremo del eje). Aplique compuesto para uniones en la rosca macho sobre el cuerpo del adaptador; enrosque la tuerca con la mano. Estabilice el cuerpo del adaptador con una llave inglesa, luego apriete la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n con la otra, con dos giros completos despu\u00e9s de usar la mano.\n\n**Abra el flujo de agua.** Revise si hay fugas con el grifo cerrado y luego abierto. Apriete la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n un poco m\u00e1s si esta uni\u00f3n gotea con el grifo cerrado. Desde afuera de la casa, presione el grifo contra la abertura de entrada en la pared. Haga peque\u00f1os agujeros piloto a trav\u00e9s de las ranuras en la brida del grifo. Ahora, Hale la manija del grifo para aplicar silicona calafatea entre la brida y la pared. Fije la brida con tornillos anticorrosivos #8 \u00f3 #10.\n\n###   **Lavamanos de pedestal**\n\nLos lavamanos de pedestal se ponen y pasan de moda con m\u00e1s frecuencia que otros tipos de lavabos, pero incluso en \u00e9pocas en que no est\u00e1n en auge mantienen una demanda bastante estable. Se encuentran principalmente en ba\u00f1os medios, donde el poco espacio disponible los convierte en una buena elecci\u00f3n. Los dise\u00f1adores tambi\u00e9n est\u00e1n descubriendo el encanto del lavamanos de pedestal en t\u00e1ndem, y debido a su peque\u00f1o tama\u00f1o, se tienen en cuenta tanto para el hombre como para la mujer porque no ocupan mucho espacio.\n\nLa principal desventaja de los lavamanos de pedestal es que no permiten ning\u00fan tipo de almacenaje. Su beneficio m\u00e1s pr\u00e1ctico es ocultar plomer\u00eda que algunas personas prefieren no ver.\n\nEstos lavamanos son instalados de dos formas. La mayor\u00eda de los m\u00e1s econ\u00f3micos que encontrar\u00e1 en tiendas para el hogar son montados de la misma manera que los lavamanos de pared; el pedestal es instalado despu\u00e9s de poner el lavabo y es meramente decorativo. Pero otros (generalmente los m\u00e1s elevados en la escala de dise\u00f1o) tienen pedestales estructuralmente importantes que son la mayor parte o todo el soporte del lavamanos.\n\n**Hay lavamanos de pedestal de diversos estilos** y son ideales para ba\u00f1os medios; ocultan la plomer\u00eda, brindando una apariencia pulida y revestida al cuarto de ba\u00f1o.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un lavamanos de pedestal**\n\n**Instale entramado de 2 \u00d7 4** entre los montantes, detr\u00e1s de la ubicaci\u00f3n planeada del lavamanos; cubra la pared con placa de yeso resistente al agua. Tal vez las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce y suministro deban ser movidas, dependiendo del lavamanos.\n\n**Coloque el lavamanos y el pedestal** y asegure el montaje con listones 2 \u00d7 4. Marque la parte superior del lavabo sobre la pared, y la base del pedestal sobre el piso; haga puntos de referencia sobre la pared y el piso a trav\u00e9s de los agujeros de montaje que se encuentran en la parte trasera del lavamanos y la base del pedestal.\n\n**Ponga a un lado el lavamanos** y el pedestal. Haga orificios piloto en la pared y el piso en los puntos de referencia, luego reubique el pedestal y f\u00edjelo al piso con tornillos tirafondo.\n\n**Ponga el grifo** y luego el lavamanos sobre el pedestal. Alinee los agujeros de la parte trasera del lavabo con los orificios piloto hechos en la pared, luego introduzca tornillos tirafondo y arandelas en la pared arriostrada usando una llave de trinquete. No apriete demasiado los tornillos.\n\n**Ponga las uniones** de desag\u00fce y suministro; calafatee entre la parte trasera del lavamanos y la pared cuando haya terminado la instalaci\u00f3n.\n\n###   **Neceseres de pared**\n\nSi est\u00e1 pensando en la instalaci\u00f3n de un lavamanos o un gabinete de tocador de pared, es probable que evoque im\u00e1genes de ba\u00f1os p\u00fablicos donde ha visto instalados este tipo de accesorios para hacer m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil la limpieza del piso. Sin embargo, los lavamanos y neceseres de pared hechos para uso dom\u00e9stico son muy diferentes a los de las instalaciones comerciales.\n\nA menudo mostrando un alto dise\u00f1o, los hermosos neceseres y lavamanos modernos vienen en diversos estilos y materiales, incluyendo madera, metal y vidrio. Algunos se fijan con soportes murales decorativos que son parte de la presentaci\u00f3n; otros aparecen como neceseres corrientes, sin patas. Instale los lavamanos y neceseres suspendidos fij\u00e1ndolos en los montantes o el entramado de madera.\n\n**Los lavamanos suspendidos** modernos son bonitos y elegantes, pero requieren ser fijados en los montantes o entramado adicional para que queden asegurados.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una base de neceser de pared**\n\n**Remueva la instalaci\u00f3n** o el lavamanos y examine el armaz\u00f3n de la pared. Tambi\u00e9n determine si las l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce deben ser movidas para acomodar las dimensiones de la nueva instalaci\u00f3n. Con un detector de vigas, localice los montantes en la ubicaci\u00f3n del lavamanos.\n\n**Coloque el lavamanos** o gabinete en el \u00e1rea de instalaci\u00f3n y mire si los montantes se alinean con el lavamanos o los agujeros de montaje del soporte. Si es as\u00ed, siga con el paso 3; si los montantes no se alinean, remueva la pared (de yeso) detr\u00e1s del \u00e1rea de montaje. Instale entramado de 2 \u00d7 6 entre los montantes en la localizaci\u00f3n de los tornillos de montaje. Reemplace y repare la pared.\n\n**Marque la localizaci\u00f3n** de los agujeros de montaje sobre la pared usando una plantilla o sosteniendo el lavamanos o neceser sobre la pared con un soporte provisional (hecho aqu\u00ed de trozos de 2 \u00d7 4) y marcando los agujeros.\n\n**Haga orificios piloto** en las marcas. Con un ayudante que sostenga el neceser en su sitio, meta los tornillos. Monte la plomer\u00eda (ver p\u00e1ginas 140 y ).\n\n###   **Lavamanos de encimera**\n\nEl lavamanos de encimera nos remonta a la \u00e9poca de palanganeros y jofainas. Ya sea de forma redonda, cuadrada u ovalada, de poca profundidad u hondura, el lavamanos de encimera brinda una gran oportunidad para la creatividad y encanta con su estilo. Estos lavamanos son la elecci\u00f3n perfecta para un cuarto tocador, donde tendr\u00e1n mucha visibilidad.\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de ellos pueden ser instalados en cualquier superficie plana\u2014desde una encimera de granito hasta un neceser de pared o un tocador antiguo\u2014. Algunos son dise\u00f1ados para hacer contacto con la superficie de montaje s\u00f3lo en la brida de desag\u00fce; otros son hechos para ser empotrados parcialmente en la superficie. Siga con cuidado las instrucciones del fabricante para hacer agujeros de lavamanos y grifos.\n\nUn lavamanos de encimera bonito requiere un grifo igualmente llamativo. Escoja un grifo alto montado en la encimera o tapa de la vanidad, o uno de pared para acomodar la altura de la vasija. A fin de minimizar el salpicado, los grifos deben fluir directamente al centro de la vasija, no al lado. Aseg\u00farese que el grifo sea compatible con la vasija; busque un modelo de montaje central o monomando si no quiere taladrar la encimera\u2014s\u00f3lo necesita hacer un agujero para el grifo\u2014.\n\n**Hay lavamanos de encimera en muchos estilos y materiales,** formas y tama\u00f1os; lo que tienen en com\u00fan es que todos deben ser instalados en superficies planas.\n\n####   **Opciones de lavamanos de encimera**\n\n**Este lavamanos de vidrio** empotrado en una encimera \"flotante\" es un gran contraste para el marco de madera fuerte y llamativo que lo fija a la pared.\n\n**El lavamanos de piedra natural** se mezcla elegantemente en la encimera de piedra y es realzado por el grifo lustroso y por un espejo redondo.\n\n**El lavamanos de piedra** es complementado por el grifo de pared. El vivo neceser de madera sobre el que descansa adiciona calidez y elegancia a la habitaci\u00f3n.\n\n**La porcelana v\u00edtrea** con un acabado en esmalte vidriado es una elecci\u00f3n econ\u00f3mica y duradera (aunque dura menos que la piedra). Debido a la flexibilidad del material y el esmalte, las opciones de dise\u00f1o son pr\u00e1cticamente ilimitadas con la porcelana v\u00edtrea.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un lavamanos de encimera**\n\n**Asegure el gabinete** de tocador u otra encimera que usar\u00e1 para montar el lavamanos (ver p\u00e1ginas 140 y ).\n\n**Empiece colocando el grifo.** Introduzca el perno de montaje de lat\u00f3n en el agujero roscado de la base del grifo con el extremo ranurado mirando hacia afuera. Apriete con la mano, y luego use el destornillador para apretar otro medio giro. Introduzca las mangueras de entrada en el cuerpo del grifo y apriete con la mano; use la llave inglesa para apretar otro medio giro, pero no se sobrepase.\n\n**Ponga el anillo del tubo ascendente** sobre el anillo \"O\" en la abertura del grifo en la encimera. Desde abajo, deslice la empaquetadura de caucho y la placa met\u00e1lica sobre el perno de montaje. Enrosque la tuerca sobre el perno y apriete con la mano; use la llave inglesa para apretar otro medio giro.\n\n**Para instalar el lavamanos y el desag\u00fce autom\u00e1tico,** primero ponga el peque\u00f1o anillo met\u00e1lico entre dos anillos \"O\" y col\u00f3quelos sobre la abertura de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Ponga la jofaina sobre los anillos \"O\".** En esta instalaci\u00f3n, la vasija no est\u00e1 unida a la encimera.\n\n**Ponga la empaquetadura de caucho** peque\u00f1a sobre el agujero de desag\u00fce en la vasija; luego meta el montaje de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Desde abajo,** meta la empaquetadura de caucho grande en la parte roscada del montaje de desag\u00fce. Enrosque la tuerca y apriete; use una llave inglesa o llave lavaplatos para apretar medio giro m\u00e1s. Luego enrosque el ap\u00e9ndice.\n\n**Instale el sif\u00f3n de tambor.** Afloje los anillos en la parte superior y la salida del sif\u00f3n; deslice la abertura superior del sif\u00f3n sobre el ap\u00e9ndice, y el brazo de desag\u00fce en el desag\u00fce lateral, con el lado liso de la empaquetadura de caucho boca arriba. Introduzca el brazo de desag\u00fce en la salida de la pared, y apriete los anillos con la mano.\n\n###   **Tapas de lavamanos integrales**\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de encimeras del cuarto de ba\u00f1o instaladas actualmente son unidades de lavamanos-encimera integrales (en una pieza) fabricadas de m\u00e1rmol cultivado u otros materiales s\u00f3lidos como la f\u00f3rmica. Son c\u00f3modas, y muchas son de bajo costo, pero las opciones de estilo y color son m\u00e1s limitadas.\n\nAlgunos remodeladores y dise\u00f1adores todav\u00eda prefieren la apariencia distintiva de una encimera construida a gusto personal con un lavamanos de borde terminado, lo cual brinda m\u00e1s opciones de estilos y colores. Instalar un lavamanos de este tipo es muy sencillo.\n\nEn la p\u00e1gina 132 hay m\u00e1s informaci\u00f3n concerniente a encimeras y lavamanos; para lo referente a la instalaci\u00f3n de gabinetes de tocador, vea las p\u00e1ginas 140 y .\n\n**Las tapas de la vanidad** son hechas en tama\u00f1os est\u00e1ndar para que se ajusten a la anchura de neceseres comunes. Gracias a que el lavamanos y la encimera son del mismo material, no tienen fugas ni requieren mucho calafateo y sellado.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un gabinete de tocador**\n\n**Coloque la unidad** de lavamanosencimera sobre burros. Ponga el grifo y deslice la palanca de desag\u00fce a trav\u00e9s del cuerpo del mismo. Eche masilla alrededor de la brida del desag\u00fce e introduzca \u00e9sta en la abertura de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Enrosque la contratuerca** y la empaquetadura sellante en el ap\u00e9ndice de desag\u00fce, luego introduzca \u00e9ste en la abertura de desag\u00fce y atorn\u00edllelo en la brida. Apriete bien la contratuerca, y despu\u00e9s ponga la extensi\u00f3n e introduzca el acoplamiento del tap\u00f3n autom\u00e1tico.\n\n**Ponga una peque\u00f1a cantidad** de pasta selladora en todas las roscas. Eche una capa de silicona (o adhesivo, si es especificado por el fabricante de la encimera) en los bordes superiores del gabinete y en las riostras angulares.\n\n**Centre la unidad lavamanos-encimera** sobre el neceser, de tal forma que el borde saliente sea igual en ambos lados y el salpicadero de la encimera est\u00e9 a ras de la pared. Presione la encimera sobre la silicona uniformemente.\n\n**Gabinetes con riostras angulares:** fije la encimera en el gabinete con un tornillo de montaje en cada riostra y arriba en la encimera. _Nota: el m\u00e1rmol cultivado y otras encimeras duras requieren taladrado previo y un manguito pl\u00e1stico para tornillo._\n\n**Con una tuerca deslizante** una el brazo de desag\u00fce a la conexi\u00f3n en la pared. Usando tuercas deslizantes, conecte un extremo del sif\u00f3n en P en el brazo de desag\u00fce, y el otro en el ap\u00e9ndice del fregadero; luego una los tubos de suministro a los ap\u00e9ndices del grifo.\n\n**Selle el espacio entre el salpicadero y la pared** con silicona para ba\u00f1era y azulejos.\n\n###   **Fregaderos**\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de fregaderos de sobreponer de borde terminado son instalados f\u00e1cilmente.\n\nLos fregaderos de sobreponer son hechos de hierro colado cubierto con esmalte, acero inoxidable, acero esmaltado, acr\u00edlico, fibra de vidrio o compuestos de resinas. Debido a que los de hierro colado son pesados, quedan fijos y no requieren elementos de montaje; salvo por su peso al levantarlos, son f\u00e1ciles de instalar. Los de acero inoxidable y acero esmaltado pesan menos que los de hierro colado, y la mayor\u00eda requiere abrazaderas de montaje sobre el rev\u00e9s de la encimera. Algunos fregaderos acr\u00edlicos y de resinas necesitan silicona calafatea para ser fijados.\n\nSi va a reemplazar el fregadero, pero no la encimera, aseg\u00farese que el nuevo sea del mismo tama\u00f1o o m\u00e1s grande.\n\nTodo el residuo de silicona vieja debe ser removido con acetona o alcohol desnaturalizado, o si no la nueva silicona no pegar\u00e1.\n\n  **Consejos al comprar**\n\n\u2022 Al comprar un fregadero, tambi\u00e9n debe adquirir cuerpos y cestas de coladores, grapas y un sif\u00f3n.\n\n\u2022 Busque divisores de fregadero m\u00e1s bajos que el borde\u2014esto reduce el salpicado\u2014.\n\n\u2022 Los agujeros de desag\u00fce en la parte trasera o al lado dejan m\u00e1s espacio aprovechable bajo el fregadero.\n\n\u2022 Cuando escoja un fregadero, aseg\u00farese que las aberturas ya taladradas encajar\u00e1n con su grifo.\n\n**Los fregaderos de sobreponer,** tambi\u00e9n conocidos como de borde terminado, tienen un reborde ancho que se extiende m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de los bordes del corte del fregadero; tambi\u00e9n tienen un reborde trasero amplio en el cual se monta el grifo directamente.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un fregadero de borde terminado**\n\n**Voltee el fregadero y marque** los bordes como referencia para hacer las l\u00edneas de corte, que deben ser paralelas al contorno, pero 1\" adentro para crear un reborde de 1\". Use la plantilla de corte si su fregadero la tiene.\n\n**Haga un agujero** de inicio y luego la abertura del fregadero con una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n; corte derecho por la l\u00ednea. Debido a que el reborde del fregadero va sobre los bordes del corte, la abertura no necesita ser perfecta, pero siempre es bueno hacer un trabajo pulido.\n\n**Monte toda la plomer\u00eda** posible antes de poner el fregadero en la abertura. Tener acceso al rev\u00e9s del reborde es de gran ayuda para colocar el cuerpo del grifo, el rociador y el colador en particular.\n\n**Eche silicona calafatea** en los bordes de la abertura del fregadero; lo m\u00e1s probable es que el reborde del fregadero no sea llano, as\u00ed que aplique la silicona en el \u00e1rea que har\u00e1 contacto con el reborde.\n\n**Ponga el fregadero en la abertura.** Trate de centrarlo enseguida para que no necesite moverlo y no corra la silicona, lo cual puede romper el sello. Si va a instalar un fregadero pesado de hierro colado, es mejor dejar los coladores a un lado para agarrar el fregadero en las aberturas de desag\u00fce.\n\n**En fregaderos con abrazaderas** de montaje, hay que apretarlas desde abajo usando el destornillador o una llave inglesa (dependiendo del tipo de abrazadera que tenga su fregadero); debe haber al menos tres en cada lado. No las apriete m\u00e1s de la cuenta, porque el reborde podr\u00eda aplanarse o combarse.\n\n###   **Fregaderos empotrados**\n\nLos fregaderos empotrados se han puesto de moda en las cocinas contempor\u00e1neas por razones pr\u00e1cticas y est\u00e9ticas, pues lucen modernos y brillantes. Son m\u00e1s f\u00e1ciles de limpiar que los fregaderos bordeados porque se elimina el \u00e1rea alrededor del borde donde siempre se acumula mugre.\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de fabricantes hacen fregaderos dise\u00f1ados para empotrarlos, y si no tiene problema en pagar dinero extra, la mejor elecci\u00f3n es un aut\u00e9ntico fregadero empotrado. Pero si su decisi\u00f3n se inclina m\u00e1s por economizar dinero, puede instalar un fregadero de acero inoxidable bordeado (de sobreponer) con poca dificultad usando abrazaderas de montaje que se consiguen f\u00e1cilmente. (Tambi\u00e9n hay bordeados en un rango de estilos mucho m\u00e1s amplio). _Nota: puede instalar el fregadero que quiera, incluyendo modelos pesados de hierro colado, si lo apoya desde abajo en lugar de fijarlo con agarraderas._\n\nNo todas las encimeras son apropiadas para empotrar un fregadero. Los bordes creados al cortar el material de la encimera deben ser del mismo material de la superficie. Las superficies s\u00f3lidas, las de granito, bloque de carnicero y concreto son buenas opciones, pero no las encimeras postformadas, laminadas o azulejadas.\n\nAhora est\u00e1n surgiendo productos nuevos que dicen sellar los bordes alrededor de la abertura del fregadero, pero no han sido probados todav\u00eda y no son f\u00e1ciles de conseguir en el mercado.\n\n**Los fregaderos empotrados lucen lustrosos y facilitan la limpieza,** pero s\u00f3lo son ideales en encimeras que tengan construcci\u00f3n s\u00f3lida, tales como los de f\u00f3rmica, piedra, cuarzo y bloque de carnicero; las laminadas y azulejadas no son compatibles con ellos.\n  **Los aficionados y la superficie s\u00f3lida**\n\nEl material de encimera de superficie s\u00f3lida generalmente es instalado s\u00f3lo por instaladores certificados. Pero un trabajo sencillo como poner un fregadero empotrado de superficie no s\u00f3lida puede ser hecho por un aficionado h\u00e1bil si tiene adhesivo y una pistola aplicadora.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo hacer una plantilla del fregadero**\n\n**Si va a instalar un fregadero** bordeado, no use la plantilla prove\u00edda por el fabricante; haga su propia plantilla de fresado para usar con una broca gu\u00eda. La plantilla debe ser medida y creada de tal forma que el corte que haga con la broca gu\u00eda sea de la misma forma y 1\/8\" m\u00e1s grande que la abertura del fregadero en cada direcci\u00f3n. Puede trazar el corte directamente sobre el MDF, o hacer una plantilla preliminar de papel o cart\u00f3n y trazarla sobre el MDF.\n\n**Haga unos agujeros gu\u00eda** en el trazado de la plantilla para darle acceso a la hoja de la sierra de vaiv\u00e9n. Si el corte tiene radios definidos en las esquinas, busque una broca o cortador de agujeros del mismo radio y taladre con cuidado las esquinas.\n\n**Conecte los agujeros gu\u00eda cortando en la l\u00ednea** de corte con la sierra de vaiv\u00e9n. Si no conf\u00eda mucho en su habilidad para cortar en l\u00ednea recta, use una gu\u00eda con regla de borde recto para los segmentos derechos.\n\n**Use una lijadora de banda o coj\u00edn de lijadora** para alisar las l\u00edneas de corte y remover material hasta que el corte se empalme bien. Una lijadora de tambor montada en una taladradora el\u00e9ctrica es \u00fatil para alisar rincones redondeados.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo submontar un fregadero**\n\n**Remueva la encimera del gabinete** y p\u00e1sela al \u00e1rea de trabajo con buena luz y ventilaci\u00f3n. Ponga la secci\u00f3n de encimera sobre burros y luego sujete bien la plantilla con abrazaderas de tal forma que la abertura quede centrada exactamente sobre el \u00e1rea de corte planeada. Aseg\u00farese que la broca gu\u00eda no corte su \u00e1rea de trabajo.\n\n**Encaje una broca gu\u00eda de doble estr\u00eda** de 1\/8\" (preferiblemente con punta de carburo) con un v\u00e1stago de \u00bd\" en una fresadora con un motor m\u00ednimo de 2 HP. Retraiga la broca y posicione la fresadora de tal forma que la broca est\u00e9 a m\u00e1s o menos 1\" del borde de la plantilla; pr\u00e9ndala y d\u00e9jela funcionando a m\u00e1xima velocidad; luego meta la broca gu\u00eda en el material de la encimera hasta que se abra paso por completo.\n\n**Dirija la broca** hacia el borde de la plantilla hasta que el manguito haga contacto con \u00e9l, luego corte lentamente la encimera siguiendo la plantilla. La velocidad es importante aqu\u00ed: demasiado r\u00e1pido causa traqueteo, demasiado lento quema o funde. Corte tres lados continuos de la abertura, siguiendo el borde de la plantilla.\n\n**Despu\u00e9s de pasar por tres lados de la abertura,** pare y atornille una tabla de soporte en el material de desecho; los extremos de la tabla deben extenderse sobre a trav\u00e9s de la plantilla. Ubique el soporte cerca del centro, pero no en el camino de completar el cuarto lado; luego termine el corte. La tabla impedir\u00e1 que el material se rompa al final del corte.\n\n**Si la abertura** del fregadero tiene marcas de vibraci\u00f3n o el corte no est\u00e1 perfectamente liso, haga otra pasada con una broca recta antes de quitar la plantilla. Remu\u00e9vala y haga un corte redondeado de \u00bd\" arriba y abajo en la abertura del fregadero. Si sabe exactamente d\u00f3nde deben estar el agujero o los agujeros del grifo, h\u00e1galos con una sierra perforadora y redondee tambi\u00e9n sus bordes.\n\n**Es m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil montar el fregadero** sobre la encimera antes de reinstalarlo en el gabinete. Corte varios bloques de montaje de 1 \u00d7 1 del material de desecho de la superficie s\u00f3lida. Tambi\u00e9n compre adhesivo para pegar los bloques en el rev\u00e9s de la encimera. Despu\u00e9s de cortados, lije todos los bordes de los bloques con un lijadora estacionaria o sujetando una lijadora de banda con la banda hacia arriba y us\u00e1ndola como estacionaria (cortar o lijar los bordes reduce la posibilidad de que los bloques se quiebren).\n\n**Limpie los bloques y el rev\u00e9s** de la superficie s\u00f3lida alrededor de los cortes con alcohol desnaturalizado. Aplique adhesivo para superficie s\u00f3lida en los bloques y p\u00e9guelos en el rev\u00e9s de la encimera, a \u00be\" del corte. Ponga tres en los lados largos de la abertura y dos en los otros; suj\u00e9telos mientras el adhesivo se pega.\n\n**Haga orificios piloto de \u00bc\" de di\u00e1metro y 3\/8** \" de profundidad para las abrazaderas del fregadero en el centro de cada bloque de montaje. Golpee los insertos de lat\u00f3n de las abrazaderas en los agujeros de los bloques de montaje.\n\n**Limpie el borde del fregadero** y el rev\u00e9s de la encimera con alcohol desnaturalizado, y cuando \u00e9ste haya secado, aplique en el borde silicona calafatea 100%. Centre con cuidado el fregadero sobre la abertura y f\u00edjelo en su sitio. Apriete con la mano las tuercas de mariposa sobre las tuercas de montaje para fijar las abrazaderas que sujetan el seno del fregadero. Coloque la encimera y monte el grifo y el desag\u00fce. En las p\u00e1ginas 142 y  encontrar\u00e1 la informaci\u00f3n sobre la forma de instalar un grifo de cocina.\n\n###   **Desag\u00fces verticales**\n\nEn muchas casas, la manguera de desag\u00fce de la lavadora es colgada sobre el costado del fregadero de servicio, pero esto no es aprobado por los c\u00f3digos de construcci\u00f3n. M\u00e1s bien, se deber\u00eda instalar un desag\u00fce de tuber\u00eda vertical que le permita a la lavadora desaguar directamente en la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del fregadero. Los tubos verticales con sifones en P se consiguen en muchos lugares de construcci\u00f3n o almacenes especializados. Un tubo de 2\" es el requerido por la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos, y la parte superior del mismo debe estar por encima del nivel de agua m\u00e1s alto en la lavadora, pero no a menos de 34\". Los grifos para manguera son instalados en las l\u00edneas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda en el fregadero de servicio para llevar l\u00edquido a la lavadora.\n\n**Lavadora con desag\u00fce de tubo vertical:** manguera de desag\u00fce de la lavadora (A), desag\u00fce de tubo vertical de 2\" con sif\u00f3n (B), l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce (C), tubo de desag\u00fce del fregadero de servicio (D), l\u00edneas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda con grifos para manguera (E), mangueras de suministro de caucho para la lavadora (F), y fregadero de servicio (G).\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un tubo vertical para lavadora**\n\n**Mida y marque el tama\u00f1o** y la localizaci\u00f3n de una uni\u00f3n Y en la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce; remueva la secci\u00f3n marcada usando una sierra alternativa, haciendo cortes lo m\u00e1s derechos posible.\n\n**Use Una navaja para remover rebabas** en los extremos cortados del tubo. Ajuste en seco la uni\u00f3n Y en la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce para asegurarse de que encaja bien, y luego p\u00e9guela usando primer y cola solvente.\n\n**Ajuste en seco un codo de 90\u00b0** y un tubo vertical de 2\" con sif\u00f3n para la uni\u00f3n Y de desag\u00fce. Aseg\u00farese que el tubo quede m\u00e1s arriba que el nivel de agua m\u00e1s alto en la lavadora (un m\u00ednimo de 34\"). Pegue con cola solvente todos los tubos.\n\n**Ponga un sostenedor 2 \u00d7 4** detr\u00e1s de la parte superior del tubo vertical, usando tornillos para cubierta de 2\u00bd\" Sujete el tubo en el soporte de madera con un cuelgatubo y tornillos de \u00bd\". Introduzca en el tubo la manguera de desag\u00fce de la lavadora.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo hacer conexiones de suministro de agua**\n\n**Instale grifos para** manguera en las l\u00edneas de suministro del fregadero de servicio. Cierre la tuber\u00eda principal de agua y los tubos de desag\u00fce. Corte cada tubo de suministro a una distancia de 6\" a 12\" del grifo. Suelde las uniones T en cada l\u00ednea, protegiendo la madera de la llama de la antorcha con dos capas de metal laminado. Ponga cinta de tefl\u00f3n en las roscas de los grifos para manguera y enr\u00f3squelos en uniones T. Conecte una manguera de suministro de caucho desde cada grifo hasta el orificio de entrada indicado en la lavadora.\n\n**Hay cajas empotradas** en lavadoras para lavaderos acabados. Los tubos de suministro y el desag\u00fce vertical van a una localizaci\u00f3n central; los grifos para la manguera, las mangueras de suministro y la manguera de desag\u00fce de la lavadora deben quedar instalados para tener acceso f\u00e1cil.\n\n## **Instalaciones de plomer\u00eda**\n\nConectar nuevas l\u00edneas de suministro y desag\u00fce es un trabajo totalmente distinto a montar instalaciones fijas, y en muchos casos es m\u00e1s complicado. Debido a que se instalan tubos donde antes no exist\u00edan, es necesario conocer todos los c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda aplicables (a diferencia de hacer s\u00f3lo un cambio de instalaci\u00f3n pieza por pieza). Tambi\u00e9n se debe tener mucho cuidado al cortar nuevos tubos con la longitud correcta y asegurarse que todas las uniones queden herm\u00e9ticas y hechas con los accesorios o productos apropiados.\n\nEscoger los mejores materiales para tuber\u00eda es una parte importante del proyecto. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, lo mejor es usar el mismo material que ya est\u00e1 instalado; pero puede usar uno diferente siempre que utilice las uniones correctas. Por ejemplo, si va a poner una nueva l\u00ednea de suministro, escoja PEX en lugar de cobre porque es muy r\u00e1pido y f\u00e1cil de instalar, o emplee CPVC en vez de cobre por costos.\n\n###   **Fundamentos de instalaci\u00f3n**\n\nUn proyecto de plomer\u00eda importante es un trabajo complicado que a menudo requiere destreza en demolici\u00f3n y carpinter\u00eda. Es probable que la plomer\u00eda del ba\u00f1o y la cocina no se pueda usar durante varios d\u00edas mientras se completa toda la obra, as\u00ed que aseg\u00farese de tener un ba\u00f1o o espacio de cocina disponible para utilizar durante este tiempo.\n\nPara asegurar que el trabajo avance con mayor rapidez, compre siempre suficiente tuber\u00eda y uniones\u2014al menos 25% m\u00e1s de la que posiblemente necesitar\u00e1\u2014; hacer varios viajes adicionales al almac\u00e9n para comprar m\u00e1s material es una molestia y agrega horas a su proyecto. C\u00f3mprele siempre a un minorista de renombre que le permita devolver material sobrante para cr\u00e9dito.\n\nLos proyectos de las siguientes p\u00e1ginas muestran t\u00e9cnicas de plomer\u00eda est\u00e1ndar, pero no deben ser usadas como una copia literal para su trabajo. El tama\u00f1o de los tubos y las uniones, la disposici\u00f3n de la instalaci\u00f3n y la ruta de la tuber\u00eda siempre variar\u00e1n de acuerdo a las circunstancias individuales. Al planear su proyecto, lea con atenci\u00f3n toda la informaci\u00f3n en la secci\u00f3n de planificaci\u00f3n; antes de iniciar el trabajo, haga un proyecto de plomer\u00eda detallado para guiar su obra y obtener los permisos requeridos.\n\n**Use montantes 2 \u00d7 6** para armar \"paredes h\u00famedas\" cuando construya un nuevo cuarto de ba\u00f1o o cocina. Paredes m\u00e1s gruesas brindan m\u00e1s espacio para poner la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce y los tubos principales de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n, haciendo la instalaci\u00f3n mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil.\n\n####   **Instalaci\u00f3n de plomer\u00eda nueva**\n\n**Use cinta para marcar la localizaci\u00f3n de instalaciones y tubos** en las paredes y pisos. Lea las especificaciones de montaje que vienen con cada lavamanos, ba\u00f1era o retrete, y de acuerdo a esto marque las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce y suministro. Ubique las instalaciones sobre el piso y contorn\u00e9elas con cinta. Mida y ajuste hasta que la disposici\u00f3n le satisfaga y cumpla las especificaciones m\u00ednimas de espaciado. Si va a trabajar en un cuarto acabado, evite da\u00f1ar el papel pintado o la pintura usando se\u00f1ales autoadhesivas para marcar las paredes.\n\n**Considere la ubicaci\u00f3n de los gabinetes** cuando est\u00e9 esbozando las conexiones de suministro y desag\u00fce. Tal vez deba ubicar temporalmente los gabinetes en su localizaci\u00f3n final antes de completar las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce y suministro.\n\n**Instale v\u00e1lvulas de control en los puntos** donde sus nuevos ramales se conectan con los tubos de distribuci\u00f3n principales, y as\u00ed podr\u00e1 seguir suministrando agua al resto de la casa mientras trabaja en las derivaciones nuevas.\n  **Consejo**\n\nLa tabla de partes del armaz\u00f3n muestra los tama\u00f1os m\u00e1ximos para agujeros y muescas que pueden ser hechos en montantes y vigas al instalar tuber\u00eda. En lo posible, use muescas en lugar de agujeros, porque la instalaci\u00f3n de tubos es usualmente m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil. Al hacer agujeros, debe haber al menos 5\/8\" de madera entre el borde de un montante y el agujero, y al menos 2\" entre \u00e9ste y el borde de una viga. Las vigas s\u00f3lo pueden ser melladas en el tercio final de la extensi\u00f3n completa, nunca en el tercio medio de la viga. Cuando dos tubos son pasados a trav\u00e9s de un montante, deben ser puestos uno sobre el otro, nunca lado a lado.\n\n**Haga paneles de acceso** para que en el futuro pueda reparar uniones y v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n localizadas dentro de las paredes. Haga una abertura entre montantes y rev\u00edstala con molduras de madera; c\u00fabrala con un panel removible de madera laminada del mismo espesor de la superficie de la pared, y luego ac\u00e1bela emparej\u00e1ndola con las paredes circundantes.\n\n**Proteja la tuber\u00eda** de perforaciones si est\u00e1 a menos de 1-\u00bc\" de la cara frontal de los montantes o vigas poniendo placas met\u00e1licas en las partes del armaz\u00f3n.\n\n**Pruebe los materiales encajan antes de pegarlos** con cola solvente o soldar las uniones; de esta forma asegura que tiene las uniones apropiadas y suficiente tuber\u00eda para hacer el trabajo, y evita retrasos largos durante la instalaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Apoye la tuber\u00eda adecuadamente**. Las l\u00edneas horizontales y verticales de DWV y la tuber\u00eda de suministro de agua deben ser sujetadas en intervalos m\u00ednimos, que son especificados por los c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda locales. Hay diversos materiales met\u00e1licos y pl\u00e1sticos para apoyar tuber\u00eda (p\u00e1ginas 272 y ).\n\n**Use cojinetes pl\u00e1sticos** para fijar bien la tuber\u00eda a trav\u00e9s de placas de apoyo, montantes y vigas; ellos protegen los tubos, evitando el desgaste y reduciendo el traqueteo. Use siempre los recomendados por los fabricantes, con montantes met\u00e1licos (anexo).\n\n**Instale uniones T adicionales** en las nuevas l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n, de tal forma que pueda probar a presi\u00f3n el sistema cuando el inspector de construcci\u00f3n revise su instalaci\u00f3n. Una nueva l\u00ednea DWV debe tener estas uniones T adicionales cerca de los puntos donde los nuevos ramales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos se conectan con la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n###   **Rutas de plomer\u00eda**\n\nEl primer y tal vez m\u00e1s importante paso cuando se reemplaza plomer\u00eda vieja es decidir c\u00f3mo y d\u00f3nde poner la tuber\u00eda nueva. Debido a que las cavidades entre montantes y espacios entre las vigas a menudo son cubiertas con superficies de pared acabada, puede ser un reto hallar rutas para la tuber\u00eda nueva.\n\nCuando planee rutas de tuber\u00eda, en lo posible esc\u00f3jalas derechas y f\u00e1ciles; por ejemplo, en lugar de pasar la tuber\u00eda de agua por los rincones y a trav\u00e9s de montantes, es m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil pasarla directo por las cavidades de las paredes desde el s\u00f3tano. En lugar de pasar un desag\u00fce de ba\u00f1era a trav\u00e9s de las vigas del piso, p\u00e1selo directo al s\u00f3tano, donde el ramal de desag\u00fce es f\u00e1cilmente extendido debajo de las vigas hasta la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\nEn algunas situaciones, es m\u00e1s pr\u00e1ctico extender la nueva tuber\u00eda en cavidades de pared y piso que ya tienen plomer\u00eda, ya que estos espacios a menudo son construidos para l\u00edneas largas sin obstrucci\u00f3n. Un plano detallado de su sistema de plomer\u00eda es muy \u00fatil al planear rutas para tuber\u00eda nueva (p\u00e1ginas 158 a ).\n\nPara maximizar sus ganancias, los contratistas generalmente tratan de no abrir paredes o cambiar el armaz\u00f3n al instalar plomer\u00eda nueva. Pero el bricolajero no tiene estas limitaciones. Enfrentado a la dificultad de pasar tuber\u00eda a trav\u00e9s de espacios encerrados, podr\u00eda ser m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil quitar las superficies de paredes o crear un nuevo espacio para la tuber\u00eda nueva.\n\nEn estas p\u00e1ginas ver\u00e1 m\u00e9todos comunes para crear rutas a fin de reemplazar tuber\u00eda vieja.\n\n**Construya una pared falsa** para darle espacio a los tubos nuevos; es especialmente eficaz para instalar una nueva tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. En una casa de dos pisos, las paredes falsas son puestas una sobre la otra en cada piso para pasar la tuber\u00eda desde el s\u00f3tano hasta el desv\u00e1n. Una vez que se completa y examina la plomer\u00eda, la pared es cubierta con cart\u00f3n tabla y acabada para emparejarla con la habitaci\u00f3n.\n\n####   **Planificaci\u00f3n de rutas de tuber\u00eda**\n\n**Use paneles de acceso** existentes para desconectar instalaciones y remover tuber\u00eda vieja. Planifique la ubicaci\u00f3n de nuevas instalaciones y tuber\u00eda para aprovechar los paneles, minimizando el trabajo de demolici\u00f3n y reparaci\u00f3n que deber\u00e1 hacer.\n\n**Convierta un tobog\u00e1n** de lavander\u00eda en un canal para pasar tuber\u00eda nueva. La puerta del tobog\u00e1n puede ser usada para dar acceso a v\u00e1lvulas de control, o removida y cubierta con materiales de pared para luego ser acabada emparej\u00e1ndola con la pared circundante.\n\n**Pase tuber\u00eda dentro de un cl\u00f3set;** si es poco notoria, puede dejarse expuesta en el fondo del mismo; o puede construir una pared falsa para ocultarla despu\u00e9s de completar la instalaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva paneles de tejado** para pasar tuber\u00eda nueva en las cavidades entre vigas; o dirija la tuber\u00eda a trav\u00e9s de un techo de cart\u00f3n tabla o yeso est\u00e1ndar, y luego construya un techo falso para tapar la instalaci\u00f3n, con tal que haya una altura adecuada. La mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos de construcci\u00f3n requieren un m\u00ednimo de 7 pies desde el piso hasta el techo acabado.\n\n**Use una extensi\u00f3n para broca y broca** de pala o una sierra perforadora para taladrar en las placas de apoyo desde espacios de desv\u00e1n o s\u00f3tano sin acabar encima o debajo de la pared.\n\n**Busque \"paredes h\u00famedas\".** Las paredes que tienen tuber\u00eda vieja son una buena elecci\u00f3n para pasar nueva tuber\u00eda larga y vertical; estos espacios son usualmente abiertos, sin obst\u00e1culos tales como bloques antifuego y aislamiento.\n\n**Sondee las cavidades** de paredes y pisos con un tubo pl\u00e1stico largo a fin de asegurar que el camino est\u00e1 libre para pasar tuber\u00eda nueva (foto izquierda). Una vez que determine una ruta usando el tubo delgado, podr\u00e1 usarlo como gu\u00eda al pasar tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce m\u00e1s grande en la pared (foto a la derecha).\n\n**Remueva el piso cuando sea necesario.** Debido a que al reemplazar los desag\u00fces del retrete y la ba\u00f1era usualmente es necesario quitar secciones del piso, a menudo se hace un trabajo total de cambio de plomer\u00eda en conjunto con un proyecto de remodelaci\u00f3n del cuarto de ba\u00f1o.\n\n**Quite superficies de pared** cuando no sea posible el acceso desde arriba o debajo de la pared. Este trabajo de demolici\u00f3n var\u00eda entre cortar canales angostos en el yeso o cart\u00f3n tabla, hasta remover toda la superfi cie de la pared. Quite superficies en los centros de montantes colindantes; los montantes expuestos sirven para poner materiales de reparaci\u00f3n cuando se complete el proyecto de plomer\u00eda.\n\n**Haga un plano detallado** que muestre la ruta planificada para la tuber\u00eda nueva, el cual le ayudar\u00e1 a que su proyecto sea aprobado por el inspector, adem\u00e1s de hacer mucho m\u00e1s sencillo el trabajo. Si ya tiene trazado su sistema de plomer\u00eda actual (p\u00e1ginas 158 a ), el plano puede ser usado para planifi car nuevas rutas de tuber\u00eda.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1o principal**\n\nUn cuarto de ba\u00f1o grande tiene m\u00e1s instalaciones y consume m\u00e1s agua que cualquier otra habitaci\u00f3n de la casa. Por esta raz\u00f3n, el ba\u00f1o master tiene requerimientos de plomer\u00eda especiales.\n\nConstruya \"paredes h\u00famedas\" con montantes 2 \u00d7 6 que brinden suficiente espacio para tubos y uniones de 3\". Si el ba\u00f1o incluye una pesada ba\u00f1era whirlpool, es probable que deba reforzar el piso instalando vigas \"gemelas\" al lado de las vigas de piso existentes debajo de la ba\u00f1era. Revise los c\u00f3digos locales.\n\nPor conveniencia, nuestro proyecto se divide en las siguientes secuencias:\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para el retrete y el lavamanos (p\u00e1ginas 163 a )\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para la ba\u00f1era y la ducha (p\u00e1ginas 160 a )\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo conectar la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce en una tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n (p\u00e1gina 168)\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda de suministro de agua (p\u00e1g. 169)\n\n**Nuestro proyecto es en un ba\u00f1o principal** en un segundo piso. Vamos a instalar tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce vertical de 3\" para el retrete y el lavamanos, y tuber\u00eda vertical de 2\" para los desag\u00fces de ba\u00f1era y ducha. Los ramales de desag\u00fce para el lavamanos y la ba\u00f1era son tubos de 1-\u00bd\", y de 2\" para la ducha. Cada instalaci\u00f3n tiene su propio respiradero que sube hasta el desv\u00e1n, donde se unen y conectan a la tuber\u00eda principal.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para el retrete y el lavamanos**\n\n**Use cinta para contornear** la localizaci\u00f3n de las instalaciones y la tuber\u00eda en el sub-piso y las paredes. Marque la ubicaci\u00f3n para una tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce vertical de 3\" sobre la placa de base en la pared detr\u00e1s del retrete. Trace un c\u00edrculo de 4-\u00bd\" de di\u00e1metro para el desag\u00fce del retrete en el sub-piso.\n\n**Haga la abertura de desag\u00fce para el retrete,** usando una sierra perforadora. Marque y remueva una secci\u00f3n de piso alrededor del \u00e1rea del retrete, suficientemente grande a fin de dar acceso para instalar el desag\u00fce del retrete y pasar la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce del lavamanos. Use una sierra circular con hoja ajustada al grueso del piso para cortar el sub-piso.\n\n**Si una viga del piso estorba el desag\u00fce del retrete,** corte una secci\u00f3n peque\u00f1a de la viga y enmarque el \u00e1rea con brochales dobles. La abertura enmarcada debe ser lo sufi cientemente grande para instalar los desag\u00fces del retrete y el lavamanos.\n\n**A fin de crear un camino para la tuber\u00eda** de desag\u00fce vertical de 3\" haga una muesca de 4-\u00bd\" \u00d7 12\" en la placa de base de la pared detr\u00e1s del retrete. Haga un corte similar en la placa de refuerzo de la pared abajo en la cavidad de la viga. Desde el s\u00f3tano, localice el punto justo debajo del corte midiendo desde un punto de referencia, tal como la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Mida y corte un tubo de desag\u00fce de 3\"** que vaya desde la cavidad del piso del ba\u00f1o hasta un punto a ras de la parte inferior de las vigas del techo en el s\u00f3tano. Pegue con cola solvente una uni\u00f3n Y de 3\" \u00d7 3\" \u00d7 1-\u00bd\" en la parte superior del tubo, y un codo de 90\u00b0 con salida baja sobre la Y; el ramal de entrada en la Y debe mirar hacia la localizaci\u00f3n del lavamanos; la entrada frontal en el codo debe mirar hacia adelante. Baje con cuidado el tubo por la cavidad de la pared.\n\n**Baje el tubo** de tal forma que el extremo inferior se deslice a trav\u00e9s de la abertura en el techo del s\u00f3tano. Suj\u00e9telo con cuelgatubos de vinilo envuelto en el codo de salida baja y atornillado en el marco.\n\n**Use un tubo de 3\"** y un codo reductor 4 \u00d7 3 para extender el desag\u00fce hasta la ubicaci\u00f3n del retrete. Aseg\u00farese que el desag\u00fce se incline al menos \u00bc\" por pie hacia la pared, luego suj\u00e9telo con cuelgatubos fijado a las vigas. Introduzca un tubo corto en el codo de modo que se extienda al menos 2\" por encima del sub-piso. Despu\u00e9s que los nuevos desag\u00fces sean probados a presi\u00f3n, esta conexi\u00f3n ser\u00e1 cortada a ras del sub-piso y acoplada con una brida para retrete.\n\n**Melle la placa** de base y el sub-piso debajo de la localizaci\u00f3n del retrete. Corte un tubo de desag\u00fce pl\u00e1stico de 1-\u00bd\" luego pegue con cola solvente una T en la parte superior del tubo y un codo redondeado de 90\u00b0 en el extremo inferior. _Nota: la distancia del sub-piso al centro de la T debe ser de 14 a 18\". La derivaci\u00f3n de la T debe mirar hacia afuera, y la descarga del codo hacia la localizaci\u00f3n del retrete. Ajuste el tubo de tal forma que el borde superior del codo casi toque la parte inferior de la placa de base. F\u00edjelo con una placa de trasdosado de \u00be\" de grueso clavada entre los montantes._\n\n**Ajuste en seco tubos de desag\u00fce de 1\u00bd** y codos para extender el desag\u00fce del lavamanos hasta el tubo de 3\" detr\u00e1s del retrete. Use un taladro de \u00e1ngulo recto para hacer agujeros en las vigas si es necesario. Aseg\u00farese que el tubo de desag\u00fce horizontal se incline al menos \u00bc\" por pie hacia el desag\u00fce vertical. Cuando est\u00e9 satisfecho con la disposici\u00f3n, pegue las piezas con cola solvente y sujete la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce con cuelgatubos de vinilo fi jados a las vigas.\n\n**En las placas** superiores de las paredes detr\u00e1s del lavamanos y el retrete, haga orificios de \u00bd\" de di\u00e1metro en el desv\u00e1n. Introduzca l\u00e1pices o clavijas en ellos y p\u00e9guelos con cinta. Entre al desv\u00e1n y localice los l\u00e1pices, luego quite el aislamiento y haga aberturas de 2\" de di\u00e1metro para los respiraderos verticales. Corte e instale respiraderos de 1-\u00bd\" que avancen desde el desag\u00fce del retrete y el lavamanos al menos 1 pie en el desv\u00e1n.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para la ba\u00f1era y la ducha**\n\n**Sobre el sub-piso,** use cinta para marcar la localizaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha, sus desag\u00fces y la tuber\u00eda de agua de acuerdo a su plano de plomer\u00eda. Use la sierra de vaiv\u00e9n para hacer una abertura cuadrada de 12\" para cada desag\u00fce, y haga orifi cios de 1\" de di\u00e1metro en el sub-piso para cada tubo ascendente de suministro de agua.\n\n**Si va a instalar una ba\u00f1era whirpool grande,** abra el subpiso para exponer la longitud total de las vigas debajo de la ba\u00f1era, luego atornille una segunda viga, llamada gemela, sobre cada una. Aseg\u00farese que los dos extremos de cada viga sean apoyados por muros portantes.\n\n**En una pared contigua a la ba\u00f1era,** determine la ruta para una tuber\u00eda vertical de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n de 2\" que va del s\u00f3tano al desv\u00e1n, la cual no debe tener m\u00e1s de 3-\u00bd\" pies desde el sif\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era. Luego, marque una ruta para la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce horizontal que va desde el desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era hasta la localizaci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Haga agujeros de 3\" de di\u00e1metro en el centro de las vigas para el desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era.\n\n**Corte e instale un tubo de desag\u00fce vertical de 2\"** que vaya desde el s\u00f3tano hasta la cavidad de la viga contigua a la ubicaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era, usando la misma t\u00e9cnica para el desag\u00fce del retrete (pasos 4 a 6, p\u00e1ginas 171 a ). En el extremo superior del tubo, use uniones para crear tres entradas: ramales para los desag\u00fces de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha, y una entrada superior de 1-\u00bd\" para un respiradero que va al desv\u00e1n.\n\n**Ajuste en seco un tubo de desag\u00fce de 1\u00bd** que vaya desde el lugar del desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era hasta la tuber\u00eda vertical de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n en la pared. El tubo debe tener un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la pared. Pegue las piezas con cola solvente y sujete la tuber\u00eda con cuelgatubos de vinilo fi jados en las vigas. Si los c\u00f3digos requieren respiraderos para cada instalaci\u00f3n, adicione una T y respiradero.\n\n**Ajuste en seco** un tubo de 2\" desde el desag\u00fce de la ducha hasta la tuber\u00eda vertical de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n cerca de la ba\u00f1era. Pegue un sif\u00f3n con solvente en el sitio del desag\u00fce, haga un agujero en la base e introduzca una T de respiradero de 2\" \u00d7 2\" \u00d7 1-\u00bd\" dentro de 5 pies del sif\u00f3n. El desag\u00fce debe tener un declive de \u00bc\" por pie alej\u00e1ndose del desag\u00fce de la ducha. Pegue los tubos con solvente.\n\n**Corte e instale respiraderos verticales** para la ba\u00f1era y la ducha, extendi\u00e9ndose a trav\u00e9s de las placas de pared y al menos un pie en el desv\u00e1n. Aqu\u00ed, estos respiraderos ser\u00e1n conectados a la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. En nuestro proyecto, el respiradero de la ducha es un tubo de 2\" mientras que el de la ba\u00f1era es uno de 1-\u00bd\" Cuando haya puesto toda la tuber\u00eda DWV, cubra las aberturas grandes en soleras con tablas y ponga aislamiento de fibra de vidrio o use aislamiento de espuma resistente al fuego para protecci\u00f3n contra incendios.\n\n####   **Conectando tubos de desag\u00fce a los de desecho\/respiraci\u00f3n**\n\n**En el s\u00f3tano,** corte la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n e instale las uniones necesarias para conectar el desag\u00fce de 3\" del retrete-lavamanos y el de 2\" de la ba\u00f1era-ducha. En nuestro proyecto, hicimos un montaje compuesto por una T de desag\u00fce con una entrada lateral adicional y dos tubos cortos, luego lo introdujimos en la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n usando acoplamientos de cinta. Aseg\u00farese que las uniones T est\u00e9n puestas de tal forma que los tubos de desag\u00fce tengan el declive apropiado hacia la tuber\u00eda principal.\n\n**Ajuste en seco uniones Y con codos de 45\u00b0** en los tubos de desag\u00fce verticales de 3\" y 2\" Ponga los tubos de desag\u00fce horizontales sobre las uniones y m\u00e1rquelos para cortarlos. Cuando est\u00e9 satisfecho con la disposici\u00f3n, p\u00e9guelos con cola solvente, y luego suj\u00e9telos cada 4 pies con cuelgatubos de vinilo. Aseg\u00farese de mantener el declive de \u00bc\" por pie en todos lo tubos de desag\u00fce.\n\n####   **Conectando respiraderos en tuber\u00eda de desecho\/respiraci\u00f3n**\n\n**En el desv\u00e1n,** corte la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n e instale una T de respiradero usando acoplamientos de cinta. La salida lateral en la T debe mirar hacia el nuevo respiradero de 2\" que baja al cuarto de ba\u00f1o. Ponga una T de prueba en la T de respiradero. _Nota: si la tuber\u00eda principal es de hierro colado, aseg\u00farese de apoyarla adecuadamente antes de cortarla (p\u00e1ginas 300 a )._\n\n**Use codos, uniones T de respiradero,** reductores y los tubos necesarios para unir los nuevos respiraderos a la T de prueba en la tuber\u00eda principal. Los respiraderos pueden ser puestos de muchas formas, pero deber\u00eda asegurarse que los tubos tengan un ligero \u00e1ngulo descendente para evitar que se acumule humedad en ellos. Luego suj\u00e9telos cada 4 pies.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar la tuber\u00eda de suministro de agua**\n\n**Despu\u00e9s de cortar el agua** , seccione la tuber\u00eda e instale uniones T para nuevos ramales. Melle los montantes y ponga tuber\u00eda de cobre hasta la localizaci\u00f3n del retrete y el lavamanos. Use un codo y una uni\u00f3n de rosca hembra para formar la conexi\u00f3n del retrete. Cuando est\u00e9 satisfecho con la disposici\u00f3n, suelde la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Haga muescas de 1\" \u00d7 4\",** alrededor de la pared, y extienda la tuber\u00eda de suministro hasta la localizaci\u00f3n del lavamanos. Instale uniones T reductoras y uniones de rosca hembra para las conexiones del grifo, que deben estar a 18\" del piso y separadas por 8\" Ya satisfecho con la disposici\u00f3n, suelde las uniones, introduzca entramado de \u00be\" detr\u00e1s de las conexiones y suj\u00e9telas.\n\n**Extienda la tuber\u00eda** de agua hasta la ba\u00f1era y la ducha. En este proyecto, quitamos el sub-piso y mellamos las vigas para pasar tuber\u00eda de suministro de \u00be\" desde el lavamanos hasta la ba\u00f1era whirpool, luego hasta la ducha. En la ba\u00f1era, usamos uniones T reductoras y codos para crear tubos ascendentes de \u00bd\" para el grifo. Suelde tapones sobre los tubos ascendentes; despu\u00e9s de instalar el sub-piso, los tapones se remueven y reemplazan con v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n.\n\n**En la localizaci\u00f3n de la ducha,** use codos para crear tubos ascendentes donde ser\u00e1 construida la pared h\u00fameda de la ducha. Los tubos ascendentes deben extenderse por lo menos 6\" por encima del piso. Ap\u00f3yelos con una tabla de soporte de \u00be\" pegada entre vigas; suelde los tapones sobre ellos. Despu\u00e9s de construir el compartimento para la ducha, los tapones son removidos y reemplazados con v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1o del s\u00f3tano**\n\nAdicionar un ba\u00f1o a un s\u00f3tano no acabado brinda la oportunidad de finalizar el resto del espacio. Con un ba\u00f1o c\u00f3modo, justificar\u00e1 tener abajo una sala de recreo, teatro casero o alcobas adicionales. Muchas viviendas nuevas tienen conexiones disponibles para la plomer\u00eda en el momento que la casa es construida. Pero es m\u00e1s probable que necesite romper el piso de concreto para instalar tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce y suministro, un trabajo que es manejable con un martillo perforador y algo de ayuda.\n\nDebido a que la tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica horizontal no puede ser revestida en concreto, debe ser colocada en el relleno granular debajo del piso del s\u00f3tano. Por lo tanto, los posibles sitios para el ba\u00f1o son limitados y determinados dependiendo qu\u00e9 tan cerca est\u00e1 la tuber\u00eda de alcantarillado principal de la superficie del piso cuando se encuentre con la tuber\u00eda principal de desag\u00fce. Revise los c\u00f3digos locales para ver otras restricciones espec\u00edficas en su sector.\n\nPlanifique de antemano este proyecto. Una vez que corte la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, no puede haber desag\u00fce en la casa hasta que haya instalado completamente los nuevos ramales y sellado todas las uniones. Aseg\u00farese de tener siempre a la mano tubos y uniones extras.\n\nSerrar o perforar concreto (tendr\u00e1 que hacerlo para poner la nueva tuber\u00eda) produce grandes cantidades de polvo. Use lonas de pl\u00e1stico para tapar otras partes del s\u00f3tano, y mascaras para polvo.\n\n**El ba\u00f1o de muestra incluye una ducha,** retrete y lavamanos de pedestal dispuestos en l\u00ednea para simplificar zanjado. La tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce de 2\" recibe la nueva ducha y el lavamanos, y una de 3\" es para el retrete. La de desag\u00fce converge en una Y unida al desag\u00fce principal existente. El retrete y el lavamanos tienen respiraderos individuales que se unen dentro de la pared h\u00fameda antes de subir al desv\u00e1n, donde se conectan con la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un ba\u00f1o en el s\u00f3tano**\n\n**Marque con cinta la ubicaci\u00f3n propuesta del ba\u00f1o;** incluya las paredes, pared h\u00fameda y localizaci\u00f3n de instalaciones. La configuraci\u00f3n m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil es poner todas las instalaciones contra la pared h\u00fameda, que contendr\u00e1 el suministro de agua y los respiraderos. Las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce deben ir paralelas a ella en la ruta m\u00e1s directa hacia la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Marque la localizaci\u00f3n de la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce (generalmente a 6\" de la pared h\u00fameda).\n\n**Corte el \u00e1rea alrededor de la tuber\u00eda principal.** Use una sierra para concreto o una circular con cuchilla de mamposter\u00eda para hacer un corte cuadrado de 24\" \u00d7 24\" alrededor de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n; el corte debe tener al menos 1\" de profundidad.\n\n**Remueva el concreto y la tierra** alrededor de la tuber\u00eda principal. Con un cortafr\u00edo y un mazo, golpee a lo largo de la l\u00ednea de corte para quitar el concreto alrededor de la tuber\u00eda; si es necesario, r\u00f3mpalo dentro del cuadrado para que pueda ser removido. Tenga cuidado de no da\u00f1ar la tuber\u00eda. Excave dentro del cuadrado para determinar la profundidad de la l\u00ednea de alcantarillado donde se une con la tuber\u00eda principal. _Consejo: calcule la distancia que necesita para que avance el nuevo ramal de desag\u00fce y multiplique por \u00bc. Adicione el espesor del piso de concreto a este n\u00famero para hallar la profundidad m\u00ednima que debe tener la l\u00ednea de alcantarillado para que se acomode a su trazado. Si excava una o dos pulgadas m\u00e1s profundo, no hay necesidad de seguir._\n\n**Excave la zanja de la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce.** Encierre el \u00e1rea de trabajo con lonas de pl\u00e1stico para proteger el resto de la casa del polvo del concreto. Use un cordel entizado para trazar una zanja de 24\" de ancho centrada sobre la localizaci\u00f3n del nuevo ramal de desag\u00fce. Estr\u00ede las l\u00edneas con una sierra para concreto o una circular con cuchilla de mamposter\u00eda.\n\n**Use el martillo perforador** para romper el concreto en la zanja, teniendo cuidado de no da\u00f1ar la plomer\u00eda existente. Use guantes, protecci\u00f3n para ojos y o\u00eddos y una m\u00e1scara antipolvo. Remueva el concreto; luego la tierra (t\u00e9cnicamente llamada relleno granular) en la zanja, empezando en la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Haga una zanja** plana que se incline \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda principal. El suelo sostendr\u00e1 las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce, y es importante crear una superficie llana. Use un pis\u00f3n para asentar el suelo si ha sido removido. Pegue con cinta un separador de 1\" en el extremo del nivel de 4 pies a fin de crear una herramienta de medici\u00f3n pr\u00e1ctica para chequear el declive apropiado. Reserve la tierra para usar de relleno.\n\n**Corte la l\u00ednea** de desag\u00fce o tuber\u00eda principal (dependiendo de qu\u00e9 tan profunda est\u00e9 dicha l\u00ednea) usando una sierra alternativa (o un cortador por presi\u00f3n). Apoye la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n antes de cortar. Use un 2 \u00d7 4 y cinta adhesiva si es tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica, o abrazaderas si es de hierro colado. Si corta la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce horizontal, h\u00e1galo lo m\u00e1s cerca posible de esa tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Corte la tuber\u00eda** encima de la boca de limpieza y remueva el tubo y las uniones. Use guantes de caucho y tenga a la mano una bolsa pl\u00e1stica grande y trapos, ya que la tuber\u00eda y las uniones viejas pueden estar cubiertas de fango de aguas negras. Recuerde que en la casa no pueden fluir aguas residuales mientras los tubos est\u00e9n abiertos; corte el agua y descargue los retretes para evitar el uso accidental.\n\n**Corte y pruebe un montaje de una nueva boca** de limpieza y un combo TY con codo largo, ajust\u00e1ndolo en seco en el bajante y la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce horizontal que va a la calle. Haga los ajustes necesarios y luego pegue y forme un solo montaje con las uniones y tuber\u00eda nueva.\n\n**Limpie bien el exterior de la tuber\u00eda vieja y aplique** primer; aplique tambi\u00e9n cebador y cola solvente en los extremos hembra de las uniones en el montaje. Deslice el montaje sobre los extremos cebados del bajante y la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce al mismo tiempo; esto requiere un poco de movimiento en una o ambas tuber\u00edas para que pueda manipular el nuevo montaje. Si la tuber\u00eda existente no se mueve nada, debe usar un acoplamiento de cinta en la tuber\u00eda principal para cerrar el espacio.\n\n**Corte y ajuste** uno por uno los componentes de la nueva l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce, comenzando en la tuber\u00eda principal. Use cordeles o tablas para contornear la pared h\u00fameda, de tal forma que la ubicaci\u00f3n de los respiraderos sea correcta. Las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce subterr\u00e1neas deben ser de un m\u00ednimo de 2\". Use uniones Y reductoras de 3\" \u00d7 2\" para conectar la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce de la ducha y la del lavamanos en la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce del retrete. Instale tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n verticales lo suficientemente largos para que sobresalgan bien arriba del nivel del piso acabado.\n\n**Revise si hay fugas echando agua** en cada tuber\u00eda nueva de desag\u00fce. Si las uniones parecen estar bien, p\u00f3ngase en contacto con el departamento de construcci\u00f3n y programe la inspecci\u00f3n (debe hacerlo antes de cubrir la tuber\u00eda). Tape las aberturas con trapos para evitar que salga gas cloacal. _Nota: algunos municipios tambi\u00e9n piden una prueba de aire._\n\n**Rellene alrededor de las tuber\u00edas** con la tierra extra\u00edda de la zanja; mezcle y eche concreto nuevo para cubrir la zanja, y allane con la paleta. Deje que el concreto frag\u00fce durante 3 d\u00edas. Algunos municipios exigen que una membrana de aislamiento sea envuelta en los tubos verticales donde estar\u00e1n rodeados de concreto; investigue con el inspector local.\n\n**Construya la pared h\u00fameda con maderos 2 \u00d7 6.** La solera interior debe ser tratada a presi\u00f3n, pero las otras partes pueden ser SPF. Melle la solera para que los respiraderos la pasen f\u00e1cilmente. Use anclajes de alba\u00f1iler\u00eda o clavos para concreto y una clavadora el\u00e9ctrica para pegar la placa.\n\n**Pase respiraderos de 2\"** a trav\u00e9s de las muescas en los montantes; ensamble con uniones T de respiradero y de 90\u00b0. Los tubos de 2\" son m\u00e1s grandes que los requeridos, pero usar el mismo tama\u00f1o de las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce elimina la necesidad de uniones reductoras y genera menos gasto. Las uniones de 90\u00b0 generalmente son menos costosas que los codos de respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Dirija el respiradero** a un punto debajo de una cavidad de la pared que vaya del s\u00f3tano al desv\u00e1n; o, si hay otra l\u00ednea de respiraci\u00f3n m\u00e1s cercana para conectarlo (poco probable), no dude en hacerlo.\n\n**Pase el respiradero** a trav\u00e9s de los pisos arriba y directamente afuera por el techo o \u00fanalo a otro respiradero en el desv\u00e1n. Remueva las secciones de pared lo que sea necesario a fin de hacer agujeros para pasar el respiradero a trav\u00e9s de las placas de pared. Meta el respiradero en la cavidad de la pared desde el s\u00f3tano; enc\u00e1jelo mientras pega las uniones con cola solvente, y suj\u00e9telo en cada piso con cuelgatubos pl\u00e1sticos puestos horizontalmente. Ponga aislamiento de fibra de vidrio en los agujeros alrededor de la tuber\u00eda. No coloque los tapizados de pared hasta que haya hecho su revisi\u00f3n final.\n\n**Instale la plomer\u00eda de suministro de** agua, que parecer\u00e1 muy f\u00e1cil en comparaci\u00f3n de la plomer\u00eda de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n. Siga las instrucciones en la p\u00e1gina 169, pero modifique la disposici\u00f3n para que se ajuste a sus instalaciones.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1o medio**\n\nUn ba\u00f1o medio en el primer piso es f\u00e1cil de instalar cuando est\u00e1 localizado detr\u00e1s de la cocina o el cuarto de ba\u00f1o, porque se aprovechan las l\u00edneas accesibles de suministro y DWV. Es posible adicionarlo a un piso superior o en una ubicaci\u00f3n distante de la plomer\u00eda, pero la complejidad y el costo del proyecto aumentan considerablemente.\n\nAseg\u00farese que las nuevas instalaciones queden con respiraderos adecuados. Aqu\u00ed el lavamanos de pedestal tiene un tubo que avanza por la pared unos pies antes de voltear para unirse a la tuber\u00eda principal. Sin embargo, si hay instalaciones superiores que desaguan en esta tuber\u00eda, debe llevar el respiradero hasta un punto al menos 6\" arriba de la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s alta antes de empalmarlo en el bajante o en otro respiradero. Cuando el retrete est\u00e1 localizado a menos de 6 pies de la tuber\u00eda principal, como en nuestro dise\u00f1o, no requiere respiradero adicional.\n\nLas t\u00e9cnicas para instalar la plomer\u00eda de un ba\u00f1o medio son similares a las usadas para un ba\u00f1o principal; vea informaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s detallada en las p\u00e1ginas 162 a .\n\n**En este ba\u00f1o** medio, el retrete y el lavamanos est\u00e1n cerca de la tuber\u00eda principal para facilitar la instalaci\u00f3n, pero est\u00e1n separados lo suficiente para cumplir con las distancias m\u00ednimas permitidas entre instalaciones. Revise el c\u00f3digo local para ver qu\u00e9 restricciones hay en su \u00e1rea. Generalmente, debe haber al menos 15\" desde el centro del desag\u00fce del retrete hasta una pared lateral o instalaci\u00f3n, y un m\u00ednimo de 21\" de espacio entre el borde frontal del retrete y la pared.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar la plomer\u00eda para un ba\u00f1o medio**\n\n**Ubique la tuber\u00eda** principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n en la pared h\u00fameda, y quite la superficie de la pared detr\u00e1s del sitio del retrete y lavamanos. Haga un hueco de 4-\u00bd\" de di\u00e1metro para la brida del retrete (centrada a 12\" de la pared en la mayor\u00eda de retretes). Haga dos huecos de \u00be\" a trav\u00e9s de la placa de base para las l\u00edneas del lavamanos y uno para el retrete. Haga un hueco de 2\" para el desag\u00fce del lavamanos.\n\n**En el s\u00f3tano,** corte una secci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda principal e introduzca una T de desag\u00fce con una entrada lateral de 3\" para el desag\u00fce del retrete; debajo de eso, introduzca una Y reductora de 3\" \u00d7 1-\u00bd\" y 45, o un combo TY reductor de 3\" \u00d7 1-\u00bd\" para el lavamanos. Instale un codo y tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce de 3\" para el retrete, y ponga un tubo de desag\u00fce de 1-\u00bd\" con un codo redondeado para el lavamanos. Aseg\u00farese de mantener el declive de \u00bc\" por pie de la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Derive la tuber\u00eda** de distribuci\u00f3n de agua con uniones T reductoras de \u00be\" \u00bd\", luego pase tuber\u00eda de cobre de \u00bd\" a trav\u00e9s de los agujeros en la placa de base hasta el lavamanos y el retrete. Apoye toda la tuber\u00eda en intervalos de 4 pies con bandas de fleje unidas a las vigas.\n\n**Ponga codos con orejas en los extremos** de los tubos de suministro, y f\u00edjelos en el entramado entre los montantes. Sujete el tubo de desag\u00fce en el entramado, luego extienda un respiradero vertical desde la T de desag\u00fce por la pared hasta un punto al menos 6\" arriba de la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s alta en la tuber\u00eda principal. Despu\u00e9s dir\u00edjalo horizontalmente y \u00fanalo a la tuber\u00eda de respiraci\u00f3n con una T.\n\n###   **Cocina**\n\nInstalar la plomer\u00eda en una cocina remodelada es un trabajo relativamente f\u00e1cil si hay s\u00f3lo un fregadero. Sin embargo, si el proyecto incluye un fregadero isla, es m\u00e1s complicado.\n\nUn fregadero isla plantea problemas porque no hay pared para el respiradero; requiere una configuraci\u00f3n complicada conocida como bucle de respiraci\u00f3n o un mecanismo llamado (AAV), o v\u00e1lvula de admisi\u00f3n de aire, en la actualidad aprobada por la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos. Una AAV elimina la necesidad de un bucle en la mayor\u00eda de instalaciones de fregadero isla. Revise el proyecto con el inspector de plomer\u00eda local antes de dise\u00f1ar una instalaci\u00f3n con AAV o bucle.\n\nPara nuestra cocina de demostraci\u00f3n, dividimos el proyecto en tres fases:\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para un fregadero de pared (p\u00e1ginas 180 a )\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para un fregadero isla (p\u00e1ginas 183 a )\n\n\u2022 C\u00f3mo instalar nueva tuber\u00eda de suministro (p\u00e1ginas 190 a )\n\n**La cocina de demostraci\u00f3n** incluye un fregadero doble de pared y un fregadero isla. El desag\u00fce de 1\u00bd\" para el de pared se conecta a una tuber\u00eda galvanizada de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n de 2\" debido a que el sif\u00f3n est\u00e1 a menos de 3-\u00bd pies de la tuber\u00eda, no se requiere un respiradero. El desag\u00fce para el fregadero isla usa una configuraci\u00f3n de bucle conectada a una tuber\u00eda auxiliar de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n en el s\u00f3tano.\n  **Consejos para la plomer\u00eda en la cocina**\n\n**A\u00edsle las paredes** exteriores si vive en una regi\u00f3n con temperaturas de congelaci\u00f3n en invierno. En lo posible, pase la tuber\u00eda de agua a trav\u00e9s del piso o paredes divisorias interiores, en lugar de las paredes exteriores.\n\n**Use tuber\u00edas existentes** de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n para conectar la nueva l\u00ednea DWV. Adem\u00e1s de la principal, la mayor\u00eda de casas tienen en la cocina una o m\u00e1s tuber\u00edas auxiliares de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n para conectar nueva tuber\u00eda DWV.\n\n**Los bucles hacen posible ventilar un fregadero** cuando no hay una pared contigua para encajar el respiradero. El desag\u00fce es ventilado con un bucle de tuber\u00eda que se arquea contra la encimera antes de bajar a trav\u00e9s del piso. El respiradero puede ir horizontalmente hasta otro respiradero. En nuestro proyecto, hemos unido el respiradero isla a uno que asciende desde un fregadero de servicio en el s\u00f3tano. _Nota: los bucles est\u00e1n sujetos a restricciones locales; consulte siempre al inspector de construcci\u00f3n para revisar las pautas sobre ventilaci\u00f3n de un fregadero isla._\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para un fregadero de pared**\n\n**Determine la localizaci\u00f3n** del desag\u00fce del fregadero marcando la posici\u00f3n de \u00e9ste y el gabinete de base en el piso. Haga un punto indicando la ubicaci\u00f3n de la abertura de desag\u00fce, el cual servir\u00e1 como referencia para alinear la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce del fregadero.\n\n**Marque una ruta** para la nueva tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce a trav\u00e9s de los montantes detr\u00e1s del gabinete del fregadero de pared. Debe tener un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Con un taladro de \u00e1ngulo recto** y sierra perforadora haga agujeros para la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce. En montantes no portantes, tales como los tacos cortados debajo de una ventana, m\u00e9llelos con una sierra alternativa para simplificar la instalaci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce. Sin embargo, si los montantes son portantes, debe pasar la tuber\u00eda por los agujeros, usando uniones para conectar tubos cortos mientras extiende la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Mida, corte y ajuste en seco una tuber\u00eda** de desag\u00fce horizontal que vaya desde la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n hasta la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce del fregadero; haga esta conexi\u00f3n con un codo de 45\u00b0 y un tubo de 1\u00bd\" de 6\" de longitud. _Nota: si el sif\u00f3n del fregadero en su instalaci\u00f3n est\u00e1 a m\u00e1s de 3-\u00bd pies de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, tendr\u00e1 que poner una T de desag\u00fce y un respiradero en la pared, conect\u00e1ndolo a la tuber\u00eda de respiraci\u00f3n en un punto al menos 6\" arriba del borde del fregadero._\n\n**Remueva el manguito de neopreno** de un acoplamiento de cinta, luego enrolle el borde y mida el grosor del anillo separador.\n\n**Pegue dos tubos** de 2\" de al menos 4\" de largo, en las aberturas superior e inferior de una T de desag\u00fce de 2\" \u00d7 2\" \u00d7 1\u00bd\" Sostenga la uni\u00f3n al lado de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, luego marque para cortar, dejando espacio para los anillos separadores en los acoplamientos de cinta.\n\n**Use abrazaderas y entramado** de 2 \u00d7 4 para apoyar la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n a lo largo de las l\u00edneas marcadas, usando la sierra alternativa y una hoja de cortar metales.\n\n**Deslice acoplamientos de** cinta sobre los extremos cortados de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, y enrolle los bordes de los manguitos de neopreno. Posicione el montaje de la T de desag\u00fce, luego deslice los manguitos sobre la tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica.\n\n**Deslice las bandas** met\u00e1licas sobre los manguitos de neopreno, y apriete las abrazaderas con una llave de trinquete o un destornillador.\n\n**Pegue con cola solvente** la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce, empezando en la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Use un codo de 90\u00b0 y un tubo corto para crear una conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce que se extienda unas 4\" desde la pared.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar tuber\u00eda DWV para un fregadero isla**\n\n**Posicione el gabinete** de base para el fregadero isla de acuerdo a los planos de su cocina; marque la ubicaci\u00f3n del gabinete en el piso con cinta, luego d\u00e9jelo a un lado.\n\n**Forme el inicio del desag\u00fce** y el bucle probando un sif\u00f3n, una T, dos codos de 45\u00b0 y uno de 90\u00b0, uni\u00e9ndolos con tubos de 2\" Mida la anchura del bucle entre los puntos centrales de las uniones.\n\n**Trace una l\u00ednea** de referencia perpendicular a la pared para usarla como gu\u00eda al colocar la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce. Una plantilla de cart\u00f3n del fregadero ayuda a ubicar el bucle dentro del contorno del gabinete.\n\n**Ponga el montaje del bucle** sobre el piso y \u00faselo como gu\u00eda para marcar la localizaci\u00f3n de agujeros. Aseg\u00farese de colocarlo de tal forma que los agujeros no queden sobre vigas.\n\n**Use la sierra** perforadora con un di\u00e1metro ligeramente m\u00e1s grande que los respiraderos para hacer agujeros en el sub-piso en las localizaciones marcadas. Anote las posiciones de los agujeros midiendo bien desde los bordes del contorno encintado del gabinete; estas medidas har\u00e1n m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil emparejar agujeros en el piso del gabinete de base.\n\n**Reubique el gabinete de base y marque** en el piso de \u00e9ste la localizaci\u00f3n del desag\u00fce y el respiradero. (No olvide tener en cuenta el grosor de los lados del gabinete cuando mida). Utilice la sierra perforadora para hacer los agujeros en el piso del gabinete, justo sobre los del sub-piso.\n\n**Mida, corte y ensamble el montaje de desag\u00fce y bucle.** Sujete con cinta la curva del bucle contra una riostra colocada a trav\u00e9s de la parte superior del gabinete, luego extienda los tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n a trav\u00e9s de los agujeros en el piso del gabinete. La T de desag\u00fce debe estar a 18\" del piso, y los tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n deben extenderse 2 pies a trav\u00e9s del piso.\n\n**En el s\u00f3tano,** determine una ruta desde el respiradero de isla hasta otro respiradero. (En nuestro proyecto, usamos la tuber\u00eda auxiliar de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n cerca de un fregadero de servicio). Sostenga un tubo largo entre las tuber\u00edas, y marque la posici\u00f3n para las uniones T. Corte el respiradero pl\u00e1stico en la marca, y luego ajuste en seco una T de desag\u00fce en el extremo del tubo.\n\n**Sostenga una T de desag\u00fce sobre la tuber\u00eda de** respiraci\u00f3n, y marque el respiradero horizontal en la longitud correcta. Encaje el tubo horizontal en la T, luego fije el montaje con cinta sobre la tuber\u00eda de respiraci\u00f3n. El respiradero debe tener un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia el desag\u00fce.\n\n**Ponga un tubo de 3\"** en la abertura inferior de la T unida al respiradero, luego marque \u00e9ste y el tubo de desag\u00fce para poner codos de 45\u00b0. Corte los tubos en las marcas y luego ajuste en seco los codos en ellos.\n\n**Extienda el tubo de desag\u00fce** y el respiradero ajustando en seco tubos de 3\" y uniones Y en los codos. Usando un nivel, aseg\u00farese de que el tubo de desag\u00fce horizontal tendr\u00e1 un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Mida y corte un tubo corto para acoplar entre las uniones Y.\n\n**Corte un tubo de desag\u00fce horizontal** que vaya de la Y del respiradero hasta la tuber\u00eda auxiliar de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Ponga una T en el extremo del tubo de desag\u00fce, luego col\u00f3quelo sobre la tuber\u00eda, manteniendo un declive de \u00bc\" por pie. Marque la tuber\u00eda auxiliar para cortar arriba y debajo de las uniones.\n\n**Corte la tuber\u00eda** auxiliar en las marcas. Use las uniones T y tubos cortos para armar una pieza de encaje entre los extremos cortados de la tuber\u00eda; el montaje debe ser m\u00e1s o menos de \u00bd\" m\u00e1s corto que la secci\u00f3n removida.\n\n**Deslice los acoplamientos** de cinta en los extremos cortados de la tuber\u00eda auxiliar. A continuaci\u00f3n acople el montaje pl\u00e1stico y apriete las abrazaderas.\n\n**En el extremo abierto de la uni\u00f3n Y** del tubo de desag\u00fce, ponga una boca de limpieza.\n\n**Pegue con cola solvente todos los tubos y uniones en el s\u00f3tano,** empezando con el montaje insertado en la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, pero no pegue el tubo de desag\u00fce y el respiradero verticales que entran en el gabinete. Apriete los acoplamientos de cinta en la tuber\u00eda auxiliar. Apoye la tuber\u00eda horizontal cada 4 pies con bandas de fleje clavadas en las vigas, y luego separe los tubos verticales que van hasta el gabinete de la isla. La conexi\u00f3n final para el desag\u00fce y el bucle de respiraci\u00f3n ser\u00e1 completada cuando sean terminadas otras fases del proyecto de remodelaci\u00f3n de la cocina.\n\n**Despu\u00e9s de instalar** el piso y poner listones para el gabinete de base de la isla, corte la parte que cubre los agujeros para el tubo de desag\u00fce y el respiradero.\n\n**Instale el gabinete de base,** luego introduzca los tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n a trav\u00e9s de las aberturas en el piso del gabinete, y pegue las piezas con cola solvente.\n  **V\u00e1lvulas de admisi\u00f3n de aire (AAV)**\n\nEl bucle (p\u00e1gina 135) es aprobado en cualquier jurisdicci\u00f3n y es una forma segura de ventilar el fregadero isla. En muchas partes de los Estados Unidos, encontrar\u00e1 otra opci\u00f3n que es mucho m\u00e1s sencilla, o al menos probada: la v\u00e1lvula de admisi\u00f3n de aire. Inventadas en la d\u00e9cada de 1970, las AAV permiten que entre la cantidad de aire necesario a un sistema DWV cuando el agua est\u00e1 dren\u00e1ndose, pero se cierran cuando la l\u00ednea se ha vaciado para evitar escape de gases cloacales.\n\nLa ventaja de las AAV es que se pueden colocar en instalaciones individuales, reduciendo la cantidad de tuber\u00eda de respiraci\u00f3n necesaria, adem\u00e1s del n\u00famero de perforaciones en el techo. Tambi\u00e9n se ponen en ramales de respiraci\u00f3n para servir a m\u00e1s de una instalaci\u00f3n.\n\nVerifique con el departamento de construcci\u00f3n local antes de instalarlas; cualquier sistema de respiraci\u00f3n que contenga las AAV tambi\u00e9n debe tener al menos un respiradero est\u00e1ndar para el exterior de la edificaci\u00f3n.\n\nLas primeras AAV eran activadas por resorte, y todav\u00eda se consiguen a trav\u00e9s de distribuidores mayoristas de plomer\u00eda o en la Internet; las versiones posteriores son activadas por gravedad. En \u00e9stas, la v\u00e1lvula es abierta por presi\u00f3n negativa en la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce creada por descarga o drenaje; cuando se abre, la presi\u00f3n en la l\u00ednea se iguala.\n\nLas AAV pueden ser instaladas en sistemas de PVC como cualquier otra uni\u00f3n pegada con cola solvente; inst\u00e1lelas seg\u00fan las especificaciones del fabricante.\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de admisi\u00f3n** de aire est\u00e1n dise\u00f1adas para permitir el paso de aire al sistema de respiraci\u00f3n cuando es necesario, pero impidiendo que salga cuando el sistema est\u00e1 cerrado.\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de admisi\u00f3n** de aire originales ten\u00edan resorte (derecha), pero la tecnolog\u00eda moderna est\u00e1 reemplaz\u00e1ndolas con las AAV activadas por gravedad (izquierda).\n\n####   **Aplicaciones comunes de las AAV**\n\n**Instalando una AAV en una cocina con isla** , se suprime casi toda la complicada plomer\u00eda del bucle. Pero aseg\u00farese de verificar primero con el inspector local, pues las AAV son permitidas en los 50 estados del los Estados Unidos pero no en algunos municipios.\n\n**Una AAV conectada en el sif\u00f3n** de una instalaci\u00f3n individual elimina mucho trabajo de plomer\u00eda de ventilaci\u00f3n. Por ejemplo, en muchos estadios grandes, cada instalaci\u00f3n de ba\u00f1o es ventilada con una AAV para reducir el n\u00famero de respiraderos largos.\n\n**La AAV puede instalarse en un ramal de desag\u00fce** que sirva hasta seis instalaciones (revise el c\u00f3digo local), siempre que el sistema DWV tenga al menos una salida a trav\u00e9s del techo y fuera de la edificaci\u00f3n.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar nueva tuber\u00eda de suministro**\n\n**Haga dos agujeros de 1\" de di\u00e1metro,** separados 6\" en el piso del gabinete de base de la isla y el sub-piso; ub\u00edquelos de tal forma que no queden sobre vigas del piso. Haga aberturas similares en el piso del gabinete para el fregadero de pared.\n\n**Cierre el agua en la v\u00e1lvula principal y drene la tuber\u00eda.** Corte la tuber\u00eda de suministro vieja que obstruya las nuevas l\u00edneas, usando un cortador de tubos o una sierra para metales. En nuestro proyecto, removimos la tuber\u00eda vieja hasta un punto donde era conveniente iniciar los nuevos ramales.\n\n**Ajuste en seco uniones T en cada tubo** de suministro (aqu\u00ed usamos tes reductoras de \u00be\" \u00d7 \u00bd\" \u00d7 \u00bd\"). Use codos y tubos de cobre para iniciar los nuevos ramales que van al fregadero isla y el fregadero de pared. La tuber\u00eda paralela debe ser dirigida de tal forma que est\u00e9 separada entre 3\" y 6\".\n\n**Suelde los tubos y uniones,** empezando en las tes. Apoye la tuber\u00eda horizontal con cuelgatubos de cobre pegados a las vigas al menos cada 6 pies. (Revise en los c\u00f3digos locales los requerimientos espec\u00edficos de espaciado).\n\n**Extienda los ramales** hasta puntos directamente debajo de los agujeros que conducen a los gabinetes de base. Use codos y tuber\u00eda para formar tubos ascendentes que se prolonguen al menos 12\" en los gabinetes. Use un nivel peque\u00f1o para asegurar la verticalidad de los tubos, luego marque la tuber\u00eda horizontal para cortarla.\n\n**Una y suelde los tubos horizontales y los ascendentes.** Instale entramado entre las vigas, y sujete en \u00e9l los tubos ascendentes con cuelgatubos.\n\n**Suelde adaptadores machos** en el extremo superior de los tubos ascendentes, y enrosque la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n en las uniones.\n\n###   **Nuevas l\u00edneas de gas**\n\n\u00bfDesea disfrutar la eficiencia y el control de una estufa a gas, pero su cocina s\u00f3lo recibe un modelo el\u00e9ctrico? \u00bfO ha pensado mover la estufa para mejorar la distribuci\u00f3n del trabajo? \u00bfLe gustar\u00eda agregar un calentador de agua a gas suplementario m\u00e1s cerca de su ba\u00f1o principal? \u00bfEst\u00e1 considerando adicionar una fuente de calor permanente en el garaje? \u00bfO simplemente quiere ahorrar dinero pasando de electricidad a gas en algunos de los aparatos principales? Cualquiera de estos proyectos est\u00e1 a su alcance si su casa ya tiene servicio de gas natural; s\u00f3lo necesita instalar un nuevo ramal.\n\nInstalar una l\u00ednea de gas no es un trabajo dif\u00edcil, pero es peligroso y en muchas regiones simplemente no es permitido que lo haga usted mismo. Antes de tomar una decisi\u00f3n, lea en las p\u00e1ginas 314 a  lo referente a emprender o no un proyecto que involucre instalar gas; tambi\u00e9n vea los materiales b\u00e1sicos e informaci\u00f3n de manejo en el mismo sitio.\n\nSi de todos modos decide instalar la nueva l\u00ednea, comience proyectando en qu\u00e9 lugar ir\u00e1 y tambi\u00e9n calculando qu\u00e9 tubos y uniones necesitar\u00e1. Empiece en el tubo de suministro al que se conectar\u00e1 y siga adelante; tambi\u00e9n averig\u00fce en el departamento de construcci\u00f3n local qu\u00e9 tipos de tubos son permitidos y cu\u00e1les le recomiendan para su trabajo.\n\nEl n\u00famero de aparatos a gas que puede recibir un ramal es limitado por el di\u00e1metro del mismo y la longitud de los tubos, as\u00ed que debe saber exactamente qu\u00e9 otros aparatos utilizan la l\u00ednea a la que se va a conectar y qu\u00e9 tanto combustible consume (ver la tabla de la p\u00e1gina siguiente). Tambi\u00e9n debe conseguir un permiso y hacer revisar su proyecto. Por tal raz\u00f3n es recomendable involucrar por anticipado al departamento de inspecciones de su localidad.\n\n**Instalar tuber\u00eda nueva** le permite aprovechar los beneficios pr\u00e1cticos y econ\u00f3micos del gas natural en todas las \u00e1reas de su casa.\n  **Observaciones para instalar l\u00edneas de gas**\n\n\u2022 En la mayor\u00eda de regiones, una v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n (usualmente una de bola) debe ser accesible a menos de 3 pies del aparato en la misma habitaci\u00f3n.\n\n\u2022 Si va a reubicar una l\u00ednea y no puede quitar el ramal de suministro debido al acceso limitado, debe tapar las conexiones de gas.\n\n\u2022 Si vive en un \u00e1rea que permite conectores flexibles de cobre o acero inoxidable, tendr\u00e1 m\u00e1s margen de error en sus mediciones. Si debe conectarse usando s\u00f3lo tuber\u00eda negra r\u00edgida, tal vez necesite tener tubos cortados y roscados para el montaje.\n\n\u2022 La mayor\u00eda de \u00e1reas permiten tuber\u00eda de cobre tipo K y tipo \"L\" para instalaci\u00f3n en una l\u00ednea de gas natural o GLP. Pero verifique siempre en el departamento de construcci\u00f3n local.\n\n\u2022 Nunca use uniones de plomer\u00eda est\u00e1ndar en tuber\u00eda de gas. Utilice s\u00f3lo llaves de paso de aleaci\u00f3n de cobre para gas en tubos peque\u00f1os (menos de 3\" de di\u00e1metro), y v\u00e1lvulas de globo o de compuerta para tuber\u00eda m\u00e1s grande.\n  **Consumo de gas de aparatos dom\u00e9sticos**\n\n**Determine el caudal** para un ramal adicionando el consumo de gas por hora de cada aparato (use los datos anteriores s\u00f3lo si en la etiqueta del suyo no aparece informaci\u00f3n espec\u00edfica). Aunque los aparatos pueden no funcionar al mismo tiempo, es bueno escoger el tama\u00f1o del tubo basado en un caudal del 100%. Observe que la distancia recorrida tambi\u00e9n juegue un papel importante en la elecci\u00f3n del di\u00e1metro del tubo (\u00bd\", \u00be\", 1\", 1\u00bc\", o 1\u00bd\").\n\n**La tuber\u00eda horizontal debe quedar ligeramente en declive,** usando cu\u00f1as cada vez m\u00e1s gruesas entre la tuber\u00eda y la superficie de uni\u00f3n, haciendo cortes cada vez m\u00e1s profundos en el miembro de soporte, o haciendo agujeros de acceso que est\u00e9n progresivamente m\u00e1s bajos en las vigas.\n  **Consejos para instalar tuber\u00eda de gas**\n\n**La tuber\u00eda debe terminar en un niple** de goteo que recoja humedad e impurezas.\n\n**Haga derivaciones en el lado o la parte superior** de la tuber\u00eda a la que se est\u00e1 uniendo. Si necesita bajar o subir, ponga un ramal de al menos 6\" de largo desde el lado de la tuber\u00eda y luego baje o suba con una uni\u00f3n de 90\u00b0.\n\n**Proteja la tuber\u00eda** que va por cavidades de la pared cerrada usando placas de acero para detener los clavos o tornillos antes que toquen el tubo. La tuber\u00eda en paredes cerradas debe tener al menos \u00bd\" de di\u00e1metro.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar una derivaci\u00f3n de gas**\n\n**Inicie el trazado en el extremo de la tuber\u00eda.** Mueva el aparato de su nueva localizaci\u00f3n y marque el sitio m\u00e1s conveniente para que la nueva l\u00ednea de gas entre a la habitaci\u00f3n. La instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil es a trav\u00e9s del piso; haga un agujero ah\u00ed y meta un alambre en \u00e9l para marcar la ubicaci\u00f3n de la l\u00ednea de gas.\n\n**Desde el s\u00f3tano,** localice el alambre y determine si la ubicaci\u00f3n es factible. Si es necesario, modifique la localizaci\u00f3n para trabajar alrededor de vigas u otras l\u00edneas de suministro. Haga un agujero de 1\" a trav\u00e9s del piso.\n\n**Corte el gas en el contador usando una llave inglesa.** La v\u00e1lvula no tiene tope, as\u00ed que puede girar indefinidamente; el gas est\u00e1 cerrado cuando la barra est\u00e1 perpendicular al tubo.\n\n**Desconecte el aparato.** Si fue usado un conector flexible de acero inoxidable, b\u00f3telo, pues s\u00f3lo pueden ser instalados una vez. Remueva la conexi\u00f3n de gas o la tuber\u00eda de cobre flexible de la l\u00ednea de suministro.\n\n**Empiece acoplando la nueva tuber\u00eda.** Aplique compuesto para tubos o ponga cinta PTFE amarilla para gas en todas las roscas macho. Apriete con la mano cada uni\u00f3n, luego apriete cada tubo y uni\u00f3n al menos un giro con la llave antes de pasar a la siguiente secci\u00f3n; tal vez deba hacer m\u00e1s de un giro para lograr la alineaci\u00f3n adecuada. Limpie el exceso de compuesto de las roscas expuestas.\n\n**Fije la tuber\u00eda con cuelgatubos** apropiados para el material de su tuber\u00eda, y aseg\u00farese de que la l\u00ednea tenga un ligero declive desde la fuente hacia el aparato.\n\n**Instale una T en el punto donde la tuber\u00eda** sube para atravesar el piso. Conecte un niple corto y un tap\u00f3n en la barra transversal de la T que apunta hacia abajo; esto crea un niple de goteo que recoge humedad o impurezas en la l\u00ednea de gas.\n\n**Introduzca el tubo** de conexi\u00f3n ascendente en el agujero del piso. Para evitar contaminaci\u00f3n, cubra con cinta o pl\u00e1stico el extremo del niple ascendente.\n\n**Conecte una v\u00e1lvula de gas aprobada de \u00bc** de giro en la conexi\u00f3n ascendente. Aplique compuesto para tubos en las roscas macho. Use una llave inglesa, no una para tubos, al apretar la v\u00e1lvula en la conexi\u00f3n. Si lo desea, deslice una placa sobre el tubo ascendente antes de fijar la v\u00e1lvula (luego puede instalar una placa divisora). Con la v\u00e1lvula cerrada, abra el gas para la l\u00ednea en el contador y pruebe todas las uniones con soluci\u00f3n detectora de fugas (ver p\u00e1gina 315).\n\n**Conecte en la v\u00e1lvula un adaptador** de rosca macho para abocinado. Use dos llaves inglesas, una para sostener la v\u00e1lvula y la otra para apretar la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Una a la v\u00e1lvula el tubo conector del aparato.** Aseg\u00farese de comprar un conector con extremos que se acoplen a la v\u00e1lvula y el orificio del aparato. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, actualmente puede usar conectores flexibles de acero inoxidable en lugar del tubo de cobre blando que requiere abocinamiento. Pero el cobre sirve si tiene el equipo para hacer una uni\u00f3n abocinada (ver p\u00e1gina 317) y desea ahorrar algo de dinero.\n\n**Conecte el aparato** uniendo la otra tuerca abocinada en el orificio roscado de entrada de gas. Enchufe el cable de energ\u00eda del aparato. Abra el flujo de gas en el contador principal o en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n y pruebe si hay fugas en las uniones abocinadas. Cuando est\u00e9 seguro que todas las uniones est\u00e1n bien, ponga el aparato en su sitio con cuidado.\n\n## **Reparaciones de plomer\u00eda**\n\nHacer reparaciones de plomer\u00eda es ahora mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil que hace una generaci\u00f3n. En ese entonces, un grifo con fugas era reparado desarmando la v\u00e1lvula y reempaquet\u00e1ndola; hoy d\u00eda, s\u00f3lo se remueve el cartucho viejo y se pone uno nuevo. Anteriormente, si el retrete ten\u00eda fugas, se reemplazaba una arandela o empaquetadura de caucho; hoy d\u00eda, es m\u00e1s probable que simplemente se quite y reemplace el mecanismo de descarga completo, lo cual es mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil que arreglar una pieza del mismo. Pero la comodidad siempre tiene un precio; localizar los repuestos correctos puede ser complicado, y en lugar de una arandela barata o un poco de fibra de grafito, usualmente hay que pagar por el paquete completo de piezas de repuesto.\n\nLos grifos y desag\u00fces son las partes del sistema de plomer\u00eda que m\u00e1s necesitan reparaciones; los grifos gotean o tienen escapes, y los desag\u00fces se atascan. Si suma estas reparaciones a los arreglos de problemas en los retretes, tiene casi todo lo que probablemente enfrentar\u00e1. Este cap\u00edtulo incluye informaci\u00f3n minuciosa sobre estas reparaciones frecuentes, adem\u00e1s de varias que se presentar\u00e1n menos, pero si eso pasa, estar\u00e1 preparado.\n\n###   **Problemas frecuentes en retretes**\n\nEl atascamiento en el retrete es uno de los problemas m\u00e1s frecuentes que se presentan en los ba\u00f1os. Si el retrete se desborda o descarga lentamente, quite la obstrucci\u00f3n con un desatascador est\u00e1ndar o uno de barrena. Si el problema persiste, es posible que el bloqueo est\u00e9 sucediendo al interior de la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n (ver p\u00e1ginas 254 a ).\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de los otros problemas del retrete son arreglados f\u00e1cilmente con ajustes menores que no requieren desmonte o repuestos. Puede hacer estos arreglos en unos minutos, usando herramientas sencillas (p\u00e1ginas 268 a ).\n\nSi ajustes menores no arreglan el problema, se necesitar\u00e1n m\u00e1s reparaciones. Las partes de un retrete est\u00e1ndar no son dif\u00edciles de desmontar, y la mayor\u00eda de trabajos son terminados en menos de una hora.\n\nUn charco de agua recurrente en el piso alrededor del retrete puede ser causado por una grieta en la base o en el tanque. Si el retrete est\u00e1 da\u00f1ado debe ser reemplazado; instalar uno nuevo es un trabajo f\u00e1cil que se realiza en tres o cuatro horas.\n\nEl retrete est\u00e1ndar de dos piezas tiene un tanque que es acoplado a una base. Este tipo de retrete usa un sistema de descarga sencillo que funciona por gravedad y es reparado f\u00e1cilmente usando las instrucciones en las p\u00e1ginas siguientes. Algunos retretes de una sola pieza usan una complicada v\u00e1lvula de descarga de alta presi\u00f3n.\n\n**C\u00f3mo funciona un retrete:** cuando la manija (1) es movida, la cadena levanta un sello de caucho, llamado tap\u00f3n de descarga o bola del tanque (2). El agua del tanque baja con fuerza a trav\u00e9s de la v\u00e1lvula de descarga (3) en el fondo del tanque hacia la taza (4). El agua de desecho en la taza penetra por fuerza a trav\u00e9s del sif\u00f3n (5) hacia el desag\u00fce principal (6). Cuando el tanque queda vac\u00edo, el tap\u00f3n lo sella, y una v\u00e1lvula de suministro, llamada llave de flotador (7) lo llena de nuevo. La v\u00e1lvula es controlada por un flotador de bola (8) que flota sobre la superficie del agua. Cuando el tanque est\u00e1 lleno, el flotador cierra autom\u00e1ticamente la llave.\n  **Problemas y reparaciones**\n\n####   **Ajustes menores**\n\nMuchos problemas frecuentes en el retrete son arreglados haciendo ajustes menores en la manija y la cadena (o alambre elevador).\n\nSi la manija est\u00e1 pegada o es dif\u00edcil de mover, quite la tapa del tanque y limpie la tuerca de montaje de ella; aseg\u00farese que el alambre elevador est\u00e9 derecho.\n\nSi el retrete no descarga completamente a menos que la manija sea sostenida, tal vez deba remover el exceso de holgura en la cadena.\n\nSi el retrete no descarga en lo absoluto, quiz\u00e1s la cadena est\u00e9 rota o deba ser unida de nuevo a la palanca de la manija.\n\nCuando el retrete escurre continuamente (p\u00e1gina siguiente), puede ser debido al alambre elevador doblado, enroscaduras en la cadena o acumulaci\u00f3n de cal en la tuerca de montaje de la manija. Para arreglar el problema, limpie y ajuste la manija y la cadena o alambre elevador.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo ajustar la manija y la cadena (o alambre elevador)**\n\n**Limpie y ajuste** la tuerca de montaje para que la manija se mueva suavemente. Esta tuerca tiene rosca invertida; afl\u00f3jela en el sentido de las manecillas de reloj, y apri\u00e9tela al contrario. Remueva la acumulaci\u00f3n de cal con un cepillo empapado de vinagre.\n\n**Ajuste la cadena** de tal forma que cuelgue derecha en la palanca, con una holgura de \u00bd\". Quite el exceso de cadena colg\u00e1ndola en otro agujero de la palanca o removiendo eslabones con alicates planos. Si est\u00e1 rota, debe ser reemplazada.\n\n**Ajuste el alambre** elevador (encontrado en retretes sin cadena) de tal forma que quede derecho y funcione suavemente cuando la manija sea movida. La manija pegada a menudo es arreglada enderezando el alambre doblado.\n  **Arreglos r\u00e1pidos**\n\n**\u00bfEl asiento est\u00e1 flojo?** Los asientos casi siempre se aflojan porque hay tuercas flojas. Apri\u00e9telas con alicates; si las tuercas est\u00e1n corro\u00eddas o estropeadas, reemplace los tornillos y tuercas, o cambie el asiento completo.\n\n**\u00bfEl asiento est\u00e1 inc\u00f3modamente bajo?** En lugar de levantar el retrete o reemplazarlo con uno m\u00e1s alto, simplemente ponga un asiento m\u00e1s grueso y elevado.\n\n**\u00bfEl tanque se llena muy despacio?** Primero hay que revisar la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n donde est\u00e1 conectado el tubo de suministro para el retrete. Aseg\u00farese que est\u00e9 totalmente abierta; si es as\u00ed, tal vez deba reemplazar la v\u00e1lvula\u2014estos accesorios son de mala calidad y suelen no abrir por completo\u2014.\n\n**\u00bfEl retrete est\u00e1 escurriendo?** Esto usualmente ocurre por las v\u00e1lvulas de llenado defectuosas o mal ajustadas, pero a veces el retrete escurre debido a que se escapa agua del tanque a la taza. Para determinar si est\u00e1 ocurriendo eso, eche unas gotas de colorante alimenticio al tanque; si luego de un rato el agua en la taza adquiere color, entonces hay una fuga y es probable que deba reemplazar la empaquetadura de caucho en la base de la v\u00e1lvula de descarga.\n\n####   **Ajustar el nivel de agua**\n\n**El agua del tanque fluyendo al tubo** de rebose es el ruido que o\u00edmos cuando el retrete est\u00e1 escurriendo. Usualmente, es causado por un desajuste menor que hace que no se cierre el flujo cuando el tanque est\u00e1 lleno. El culpable es una flotador de bola o taza flotadora que se ajusta para fijar un nivel de agua m\u00e1s alto que el extremo del tubo de rebose, el cual sirve como desag\u00fce para el exceso de l\u00edquido. Las otras fotos en esta p\u00e1gina muestran c\u00f3mo arreglar el problema.\n\n**El flotador de bola es conectado** a un brazo que est\u00e1 unido a un \u00e9mbolo en el otro extremo. Cuando el tanque se llena, el flotador sube y levanta un extremo del brazo. En cierto punto, \u00e9ste aprieta el \u00e9mbolo y detiene el flujo de agua. S\u00f3lo con doblar el brazo un poco hacia abajo, apretar\u00e1 el \u00e9mbolo en un menor nivel de agua, resolviendo el problema.\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de llenado** usualmente es pl\u00e1stica y posee una tapa que contiene un diafragma de caucho. Gire el tornillo de ajuste en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj para bajar el nivel de agua, y al contrario para subirlo.\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de llenado** de una taza flotadora es pl\u00e1stica y f\u00e1cil de ajustar. Reduzca el nivel de agua apretando el cierre de resorte con los dedos o alicates, y bajando el cierre y la taza por la varilla de arrastre y el v\u00e1stago. Eleve el nivel de agua subiendo el cierre y la taza.\n  **\u00bfY si la descarga se detiene muy pronto?**\n\n**A veces hay mucha agua** en el tanque, pero no llega suficiente a la taza antes que la v\u00e1lvula de descarga cierre el flujo. Los retretes modernos est\u00e1n dise\u00f1ados para dejar agua en el tanque, ya que la primera cantidad que sale de \u00e9l lo hace con la mayor fuerza, siendo presionada por el volumen de encima. Para aumentar la duraci\u00f3n de la descarga, acorte la cadena entre el tap\u00f3n de descarga y el flotador (amarillo en el modelo mostrado).\n\n**La palanca de la manija debe parar en el tap\u00f3n;** si no lo hace, reubique el gancho de la cadena en la palanca. Cuando el tap\u00f3n est\u00e1 cubriendo la abertura, debe haber s\u00f3lo un poco de holgura en la cadena; si hay demasiada, ac\u00f3rtela y quite el exceso con los filos de los alicates.\n\n**Si el retrete no completa las descargas,** pero la palanca y la cadena para el tap\u00f3n de descarga o la bola del tanque est\u00e1n ajustados correctamente, tal vez el problema es que el mecanismo de la manija requiere limpieza o cambio. Remueva la cadena\/acoplamiento de la palanca. Con la llave inglesa quite la tuerca de la manija, que se desenrosca en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj (contrario a las tuercas est\u00e1ndar). Remueva la manija vieja.\n\n**A menos que las partes de la manija** est\u00e9n visiblemente rotas, l\u00edmpielas con un cepillo dental viejo empapado de vinagre blanco. Inst\u00e1lela de nuevo y pru\u00e9bela; si se pega o es dif\u00edcil de mover, reempl\u00e1cela. La mayor\u00eda de las manijas de repuesto vienen con instrucciones detalladas que le indicar\u00e1n c\u00f3mo instalarlas y ajustarlas.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar una v\u00e1lvula de llenado**\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de llenado se desgastan** con el tiempo y deben ser reemplazadas. Antes de quitar la vieja, corte el suministro de agua en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n de la instalaci\u00f3n localizada en el tubo que suministra agua al tanque. Descargue el retrete y quite con esponja el l\u00edquido remanente. Luego remueva el montaje de la vieja v\u00e1lvula de llenado aflojando y quitando la tuerca de montaje en la parte externa de la pared del tanque que fija la v\u00e1lvula.\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de llenado** deben ser coordinadas con la v\u00e1lvula de descarga de tal forma que el nivel de agua no sea mayor que el tubo de rebose, y que la v\u00e1lvula de llenado no sea tan baja y genere un riesgo de reflujo. Las nuevas v\u00e1lvulas de llenado tienen una marca de \"nivel cr\u00edtico\" (\"CL\") cerca del extremo superior.\n\n**La nueva v\u00e1lvula de llenado** debe ser instalada de tal forma que la marca del nivel cr\u00edtico (\"CL\") est\u00e9 al menos 1\" por encima del tubo de rebose. Deslice la arandela sobre el v\u00e1stago roscado de la nueva v\u00e1lvula y ponga \u00e9sta en el agujero de modo que la arandela haga contacto pleno sobre el fondo del tanque. Compare las localizaciones de la marca \"CL\" y el tubo de rebose.\n\n**Ajuste la altura del v\u00e1stago** de tal forma que la l\u00ednea \"CL\" y el tubo de rebose est\u00e9n relacionados correctamente. Diferentes productos son ajustados de manera distinta\u2014la v\u00e1lvula mostrada aqu\u00ed se ajusta cuando es girada\u2014.\n\n**Coloque la v\u00e1lvula en el tanque.** Presione el v\u00e1stago (no la parte superior) mientras aprieta con la mano la contratuerca en el extremo roscado (enrosque la tuerca de montaje en el lado externo del tanque). Apriete s\u00f3lo con la mano.\n\n**Conecte el agua** uniendo la tuerca de acoplamiento del tubo ascendente al v\u00e1stago roscado en el extremo inferior de la nueva v\u00e1lvula de llenado. Apriete s\u00f3lo con la mano.\n\n**Si el tubo de rebose tiene una tapa, qu\u00edtela.** Una un extremo del tubo de llenado de la nueva v\u00e1lvula al adaptador angular pl\u00e1stico, y el otro extremo a la boquilla cerca de la v\u00e1lvula. Conecte el adaptador angular en el tubo de rebose. Corte el exceso de tubo con tijeras para evitar enroscaduras. _Advertencia: no introduzca el tubo de llenado en el tubo de rebose; la salida del mismo debe estar por encima del tubo para que funcione bien._\n\n**Abra el agua completamente.** Apriete un poco cualquier uni\u00f3n que gotee; ajuste el nivel de agua en el tanque presionando el cierre de resorte de la taza flotadora con alicates planos y subiendo o bajando la taza en la varilla. Pruebe la descarga.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar una v\u00e1lvula de descarga**\n\n**Antes de quitar la v\u00e1lvula vieja,** corte el agua en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n localizada en el tubo que suministra l\u00edquido al tanque. Descargue el retrete y quite con esponja el agua remanente. Para hacer esta reparaci\u00f3n debe remover el tanque de la taza; empiece desenroscando la tuerca de acoplamiento de la base del tanque.\n\n**Desatornille los pernos** que fijan el tanque a la taza aflojando las tuercas desde abajo. Si tiene dificultad para aflojar los tornillos y tuercas del tanque porque est\u00e1n pegados por el moho o corrosi\u00f3n, eche aceite penetrante o lubricante en aerosol en las roscas, espere unos minutos e int\u00e9ntelo de nuevo. Si eso falla, deslice una sierra para metales ampliable (o la hoja de la sierra) entre el tanque y la taza, y corte el tornillo (foto anexa).\n\n**Desenganche la cadena de la palanca de la manija.** Remueva el tanque y volt\u00e9elo con cuidado sobre una toalla vieja. Quite la arandela y la tuerca spud de la base de la v\u00e1lvula de descarga usando una llave spud o alicates tipo canal grandes. Remueva la v\u00e1lvula vieja.\n\n**Ponga la nueva** v\u00e1lvula en el agujero indicado y vea si el extremo superior del tubo de rebose est\u00e1 al menos 1\" debajo de la l\u00ednea de nivel cr\u00edtico (ver p\u00e1gina 206) y la abertura del tanque donde est\u00e1 instalada la manija. Si el tubo es demasiado largo, c\u00f3rtelo con la sierra.\n\n**Ponga el tap\u00f3n** de la v\u00e1lvula de descarga debajo de la palanca de la manija, y f\u00edjela al tanque desde abajo con la tuerca spud. Con la llave spud o alicates tipo canal grandes, apriete la tuerca medio giro despu\u00e9s de apretar con la mano; si aprieta demasiado puede estropear el tanque. Ponga la nueva arandela spud sobre la tuerca, con el lado peque\u00f1o abajo.\n\n**Con el tanque volteado** , meta una arandela de caucho en cada tornillo e introd\u00fazcala en los agujeros dentro del tanque. Luego, ponga una arandela de lat\u00f3n y una tuerca hexagonal en los tornillos del tanque desde abajo y apri\u00e9telos un cuarto de giro despu\u00e9s de hacerlo con la mano. No se sobrepase al apretar.\n\n**Con las tuercas hexagonales apretadas** en la base del tanque, baje \u00e9ste con cuidado y col\u00f3quelo sobre la taza de tal forma que la arandela spud haga contacto pleno sobre la entrada de agua en la taza, y los tornillos penetren en los agujeros del reborde de la taza. Fije el tanque en la taza con una arandela de caucho, arandela de lat\u00f3n y tuerca (o tuerca de mariposa) en cada tornillo. Presione el tanque para nivelarlo mientras aprieta las tuercas con la mano. Conecte el suministro de agua en la entrada de la v\u00e1lvula de llenado.\n\n**Conecte el gancho** en la palanca de la manija y ajuste el n\u00famero de eslabones que dejen un poco de holgura en la cadena cuando el tap\u00f3n de descarga est\u00e9 cerrado. Deje un poco de cadena para ajuste y corte el resto. Una el tubo de llenado al extremo superior del tubo de rebose de la misma forma que estaba conectado el tubo de llenado anterior. Abra el suministro de agua en la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n y pruebe la descarga. (Algunos tapones son ajustables).\n\n###   **Retretes atascados**\n\nSi el retrete est\u00e1 atascado y el agua se ha rebosado, no se desespere y tenga paciencia; una segunda descarga de agua es tentadora pero tambi\u00e9n es innecesaria. Primero que todo investigue el da\u00f1o. Seque el agua si se ha derramado; luego examine la posibilidad de la obstrucci\u00f3n. \u00bfEs completamente \"natural\" o un objeto extra\u00f1o podr\u00eda estar contribuyendo a la congesti\u00f3n? Desplace un tap\u00f3n natural por el desag\u00fce utilizando un desatascador. Si es posible, el objeto que est\u00e1 obstruyendo debe ser removido por medio de un desatascador de barrena. Si introduce algo m\u00e1s grueso que el papel higi\u00e9nico en la taza y en la alcantarilla, puede crear una obstrucci\u00f3n m\u00e1s seria en todo el sistema de desag\u00fce y desecho.\n\nSi la ba\u00f1era, lavamanos y retrete presentan este problema a la vez, es probable que est\u00e9 bloqueado el ramal de desag\u00fce que sirve a todas las instalaciones del ba\u00f1o, y lo mejor es que llame al servicio de limpieza de desag\u00fces.\n\n**Una obstrucci\u00f3n en la taza del** retrete hace que el agua de descarga del tanque termine en el piso.\n\n**El sif\u00f3n es el lugar de atascamiento m\u00e1s frecuente.** Una vez que se forma la obstrucci\u00f3n, la descarga del retrete no genera suficiente fuerza para limpiar el sif\u00f3n, por eso el agua retrocede. Los sifones en retretes modernos de 1.6 galones han sido redise\u00f1ados para di\u00e1metros m\u00e1s grandes y son menos propensos a atascos que la primera generaci\u00f3n de 1.6 galones.\n\n**No todos los desatascadores fueron creados iguales.** El est\u00e1ndar (izquierda) es simplemente una taza de caucho invertida y se usa en lavamanos, ba\u00f1eras y duchas. El desatascador de copa larga est\u00e1 dise\u00f1ado para penetrar en el sif\u00f3n de un desag\u00fce de retrete; puede doblarse la prolongaci\u00f3n en la taza para ser usado como desatascador est\u00e1ndar.\n  **Desatascadores**\n\nEl mercado de reparaciones dom\u00e9sticas est\u00e1 lleno de aparatos y dispositivos ingeniosos, adem\u00e1s de productos consolidados, destinados a limpiar desag\u00fces de todo tipo. Algunos son qu\u00edmicos c\u00e1usticos o enzimas naturales, otros son mec\u00e1nicos; algunos ayudan, otros son in\u00fatiles e incluso pueden empeorar el problema. Sin embargo, si es proclive a los nuevos productos y las soluciones m\u00e1s recientes, puede probar nuevos desatascadores cuando est\u00e9n disponibles. Por ejemplo, en esta foto ver\u00e1 un producto relativamente nuevo que inyecta chorros de CO2 comprimido directamente en el desag\u00fce del retrete, lavamanos o ba\u00f1era para desplazar atascos; no introduce qu\u00edmicos a la corriente de desag\u00fce, y los fabricantes afirman que el chorro de CO2 es muy suave y no da\u00f1a la tuber\u00eda. Como pasa con cualquier producto nuevo, \u00faselo con precauci\u00f3n. Pero sin un desatascador est\u00e1ndar o uno met\u00e1lico no funciona, podr\u00eda ahorrarle el costo de una visita a domicilio.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo desatascar un retrete**\n\n**La succi\u00f3n es la manera m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil** de remover obstrucciones \"naturales\". Tome su tiempo para colocar toallas alrededor de la base del retrete y pasar otros objetos a un lugar seco y seguro, pues el trabajo puede terminar en salpicado. A menudo dejar que el retrete lleno se asiente por veinte o treinta minutos, permite que parte del agua fluya y quede un nivel menos precario.\n\n**Debe haber suficiente agua en la taza para cubrir** completamente el desatascador. Despliegue la falda del desatascador para formar un mejor sello con la abertura en la base de la taza. Mueva de arriba abajo el desatascador con fuerza unas seis veces, descanse y luego repita; haga esto de 10 a 15 ciclos.\n  **Consejo**\n\nUn desatascador de copa larga entra en la boquilla del sif\u00f3n y crea un sello herm\u00e9tico que permite generar suficiente presi\u00f3n frente al desatascador para desplazar la obstrucci\u00f3n.\n\n**Si desplaza agua de la taza** y no puede crear succi\u00f3n con el desatascador, deje pasar una cantidad controlada de l\u00edquido en ella levantando la v\u00e1lvula de descarga en el tanque. Reanude la succi\u00f3n. Cuando considere que el desag\u00fce est\u00e9 limpio, ensaye una descarga controlada, con la mano lista para cerrar la v\u00e1lvula de descarga si el agua amenaza con desbordarse de la taza. Una vez que limpie la obstrucci\u00f3n, eche un baldado de agua de cinco galones en el retrete para eliminar residuos.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo limpiar atascos con un desatascador de barrena**\n\n**Ponga el extremo del desatascador** firmemente en el fondo de la taza con la punta completamente retra\u00edda. Un manguito de caucho protege la porcelana en la parte inferior del desatascador. La punta se curva hacia arriba, la direcci\u00f3n que toma el sif\u00f3n.\n\n**Gire la manija sobre el cuerpo del** desatascador en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj mientras presiona la barra, avanzando la punta rotatoria en la parte trasera del sif\u00f3n. Puede mover el cable atr\u00e1s y adelante si es necesario, pero mantenga el manguito de caucho firme en la taza. Cuando sienta resistencia, que indica que ha encontrado el objeto, siga girando el desatascador en sentido contrario al de las manecillas del reloj mientras retrae el cable y el objeto.\n  **Consejo**\n\nEl desatascador de barrena es un cable semirr\u00edgido al interior de un tubo, que a su vez es curvado en el extremo para penetrar en un sif\u00f3n de retrete (sin rayarlo) y encontrar obstrucciones.\n\n**Retraiga completamente el** desatascador hasta que haya recuperado el objeto. Esto es frustrante en ocasiones, pero aun as\u00ed es un trabajo mucho m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil que la alternativa\u2014remover el retrete para sacar la obstrucci\u00f3n\u2014.\n\n###   **Bridas para retrete**\n\nSi el retrete se mueve, finalmente tendr\u00e1 fugas. El balanceo indica que los tornillos ya no lo est\u00e1n fijando en el piso. Si los ha apretado y sigue movi\u00e9ndose, es posible que un tornillo haya roto la brida y no la sostenga. El balanceo tambi\u00e9n puede ser debido a que una continua fuga ha debilitado el piso y ahora est\u00e1 desnivelado. Sea cual sea la raz\u00f3n, un retrete as\u00ed debe ser arreglado.\n\nSi la brida est\u00e1 conectada a tuber\u00eda de hierro colado, use una brida de reparaci\u00f3n, la cual tiene un anillo de compresi\u00f3n de caucho que la sella en el tubo.\n\n**Use un juego de reparaci\u00f3n** de brida para arreglar una brida rota. La nueva pieza simplemente es atornillada al piso despu\u00e9s que ha sido orientada correctamente sobre la brida da\u00f1ada.\n\n**Si el retrete se mueve,** a menudo es necesario s\u00f3lo apretarlas tuercas; pero si debe apretarlas regularmente, es muy probable que tenga un problema con la brida.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar una brida de PVC**\n\n**Empiece removiendo el retrete y el anillo de cera.** Corte el tubo justo debajo de la brida usando un cortador interno (recuadro, que se consigue en tiendas de material de plomer\u00eda). Quite la brida.\n\n**Si la brida est\u00e1 unida a un codo de retrete,** para hacer la reparaci\u00f3n debe abrir el piso alrededor del mismo a fin de llegar al tubo horizontal que conecta el codo con la tuber\u00eda principal. Si est\u00e1 unido a un tubo pl\u00e1stico vertical, use un manguito de reparaci\u00f3n y un tubo corto para subir la tuber\u00eda al nivel del piso. Primero pegue con cola el nuevo tubo en el manguito y d\u00e9jelo reposar; limpie bien el tubo viejo antes de pegarlo.\n\n**Corte el tubo de repuesto a ras de piso.** Ajuste en seco la nueva brida en el tubo, y g\u00edrela hasta que las ranuras rectas est\u00e9n paralelas a la pared. (No utilice las ranuras curvadas porque no son tan fuertes). Trace l\u00edneas para marcar la ubicaci\u00f3n de las ranuras en el piso.\n\n**Cebe y pegue con cola solvente el tubo y la brida,** introduciendo \u00e9sta y gir\u00e1ndola para la alineaci\u00f3n correcta. F\u00edjela al piso con tornillos de cabeza chata de acero inoxidable para madera #10.\n\n###   **L\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del retrete**\n\nReemplace la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce del retrete si est\u00e1 muy deteriorada. Tambi\u00e9n debe hacerlo si va a reubicar y reemplazar la tuber\u00eda principal de desag\u00fce, o si va a mover el retrete a otro sitio en el ba\u00f1o.\n\nReemplazar el desag\u00fce del retrete a veces es un trabajo molesto, principalmente porque el espacio limitado hace dif\u00edcil poner la tuber\u00eda de 3\" \u00f3 4\". Es probable que necesite remover piso alrededor del retrete o pared detr\u00e1s de \u00e9l.\n\nReemplazar un desag\u00fce de retrete tambi\u00e9n puede requerir hacer un trabajo en la armaz\u00f3n, si ve necesario cortar vigas para extender la nueva tuber\u00eda; en lo posible, planee su proyecto de tal forma que evite cambios en las partes del armaz\u00f3n.\n\n**Reemplazar un desag\u00fce** de retrete usualmente requiere que se remueva piso y pared para tener acceso a la tuber\u00eda.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar una l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce de retrete**\n\n**Remueva el retrete,** luego desatornille la brida del piso y qu\u00edtela del tubo de desag\u00fce. Tambi\u00e9n puede usar un cortatubos interno para seccionar tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica (ver p\u00e1gina anterior, arriba a la izquierda).\n\n**Corte el piso alrededor del desag\u00fce del retrete** a lo largo del centro de las vigas, usando una sierra circular con la hoja instalada a una profundidad 1\/8\" mayor que el grosor del sub-piso. La viga expuesta servir\u00e1 como superficie para la perforaci\u00f3n cuando el sub-piso sea colocado.\n\n**Corte el viejo** codo para retrete lo m\u00e1s cerca posible de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, usando la sierra alternativa con hoja de cortar metales, o un cortador de hierro colado.\n\n**Si una viga obstruye** la ruta de una nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, corte una secci\u00f3n de la viga del piso. Instale brochales dobles y estribos met\u00e1licos para apoyar los extremos de la viga cortada.\n\n**Forme un nuevo** desag\u00fce de retrete que vaya a la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, usando un codo y un tubo corto. Ub\u00edquelo de tal forma que haya al menos 15\" de espacio entre el centro de la taza y las paredes laterales cuando el retrete sea instalado. Aseg\u00farese que el desag\u00fce tenga un declive de al menos \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda principal, luego ap\u00f3yelo con cuelgatubos pl\u00e1stico sujetado a las partes del armaz\u00f3n. Introduzca un tubo de 6\" en la entrada superior del codo; una vez que la nueva tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce haya sido probada, este tubo ser\u00e1 cortado con un serrucho y encajado con una brida para retrete.\n\n**Corte madera** laminada de grado exterior para poner en el \u00e1rea cortada del piso, y use una sierra de vaiv\u00e9n para hacer una abertura donde ir\u00e1 la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce del retrete. Coloque la madera y f\u00edjela a las vigas y el entramado con tornillos de 2\".\n\n###   **Lavamanos**\n\nNo es sorprendente que los grifos de los lavamanos goteen y produzcan fugas; cualquier accesorio que contenga partes mec\u00e1nicas m\u00f3viles es propenso a fallar. Pero si a todo esto agregamos la fuerza constante de la presi\u00f3n del agua ejercida sobre esas las partes, lo asombroso es que los grifos no se da\u00f1en m\u00e1s r\u00e1pido o con m\u00e1s frecuencia. Ser\u00eda injusto afirmar que el mecanismo interno de un grifo es considerado desechable por los fabricantes, pero es seguro afirmar que estas partes se han convertido en piezas m\u00e1s f\u00e1ciles de remover o reemplazar.\n\nEl aspecto m\u00e1s importante de la reparaci\u00f3n de un grifo de lavamanos es identificar qu\u00e9 clase de grifo tenemos. En este cap\u00edtulo veremos todos los tipos comunes y las instrucciones para repararlos. En cada caso, el m\u00e9todo de reparaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil y seguro es comprar un juego de repuesto con partes internas nuevas para el modelo y la marca de grifo que se tiene.\n\n**Con el tiempo, casi todos los grifos gotean y tienen fugas.** Usualmente las reparaciones son hechas reemplazando las partes mec\u00e1nicas dentro del cuerpo del grifo (la clave es determinar qu\u00e9 tipo de partes tiene nuestro grifo).\n\n**Casi todas las fugas** son causadas por mecanismos de la v\u00e1lvula funcionando mal. Sin importar si el grifo es del tipo de cartucho monomando (izquierda), uno de compresi\u00f3n de dos manijas, o cualquier otro intermedio, la soluci\u00f3n para arreglar la fuga es limpiar o reemplazar las partes que sellan las entradas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda en el pico.\n  **Problemas frecuentes y reparaciones**\n\n####   **Tipos de grifo comunes**\n\nEl grifo con goteos es el problema de plomer\u00eda dom\u00e9stica que sucede con m\u00e1s frecuente. Las fugas se presentan cuando las arandelas, los sellos o anillos \"O\" dentro del grifo est\u00e1n gastados o sucios. Arreglar la fuga es f\u00e1cil, pero las t\u00e9cnicas para hacer las reparaciones var\u00edan dependiendo del dise\u00f1o del grifo. Antes de iniciar el trabajo de reparaci\u00f3n, debe identificar el dise\u00f1o del grifo y determinar cu\u00e1les son los repuestos que se necesitan.\n\nHay cuatro dise\u00f1os b\u00e1sicos: de bola, cartucho, disco y compresi\u00f3n. Muchos grifos son identificados f\u00e1cilmente por el aspecto externo, pero otros deben ser desarmados para reconocer el dise\u00f1o.\n\nEl dise\u00f1o de compresi\u00f3n es utilizado en muchos grifos de doble manija. Los grifos de compresi\u00f3n tienen arandelas o sellos que deben ser reemplazados de tiempo en tiempo; estas reparaciones son f\u00e1ciles de realizar, y los repuestos tambi\u00e9n son econ\u00f3micos.\n\nLos de bola, cartucho y disco son conocidos como grifos sin empaque. Muchos de ellos son controlados con una sola manija, aunque algunos modelos con cartucho tienen dos. Estos grifos est\u00e1n m\u00e1s libres de da\u00f1os que los de compresi\u00f3n, y son dise\u00f1ados para reparaci\u00f3n r\u00e1pida.\n\nAl instalar nuevas partes del grifo, aseg\u00farese que los repuestos concuerdan con las piezas originales. Los repuestos para grifos sin empaque son identificados por la marca y el modelo. Para asegurar una elecci\u00f3n correcta, tal vez deba llevar las partes gastadas a la tienda de materiales para la comparaci\u00f3n.\n\n**El grifo tipo bola tiene una sola manija** sobre un tap\u00f3n en forma de domo. Si el grifo monomando es fabricado por Delta\u00ae o Peerless\u00ae, probablemente es de bola. Vea en la p\u00e1gina 224 c\u00f3mo arreglar un grifo de bola.\n\n**Los grifos de cartucho** se consiguen en modelos monomando o de doble manija. Las marcas populares incluyen el Price P _f_ ister\u2122, el Moen, el Valley, y el Aqualine. Vea en la p\u00e1gina 223 c\u00f3mo arreglar un grifo de cartucho.\n\n**El grifo de compresi\u00f3n tiene dos manijas.** Al cerrarlo, usualmente sentimos que una arandela de caucho es apretada dentro de \u00e9l. Estos grifos son vendidos bajo muchas marcas. Vea en la p\u00e1gina 222 c\u00f3mo arreglarlos.\n\n**El grifo de disco** tiene una sola manija y un cuerpo s\u00f3lido de lat\u00f3n cromado. Si el suyo es fabricado por American Standard o Reliant, puede ser un grifo de disco. Vea en la p\u00e1gina 225 c\u00f3mo arreglarlo.\n\n####   **Juegos de reparaci\u00f3n de grifos**\n\n**El juego de reparaci\u00f3n** para un grifo de bola incluye asientos de v\u00e1lvulas de caucho, resortes, leva, arandela de leva y anillos \"O\". Tambi\u00e9n puede incluir una peque\u00f1a herramienta de llave Allen usada para remover la manija del grifo. Aseg\u00farese que el paquete sea para el modelo de su grifo. La bola de repuesto puede comprarse aparte, pero no es necesaria a menos que la vieja est\u00e9 claramente gastada.\n\n**Los cartuchos de repuesto** vienen en docenas de estilos; se consiguen para marcas de grifo populares, incluyendo (desde la izquierda) PriceP _f_ ister\u2122, Moen, y Kohler. Los juegos de anillos \"O\" pueden ser vendidos aparte.\n\n**El juego universal** de arandelas contiene partes requeridas para arreglar la mayor\u00eda de grifos de compresi\u00f3n. Escoja uno que tenga un surtido de arandelas de neopreno, anillos \"O\", arandelas de empaque o tornillos de lat\u00f3n del v\u00e1stago.\n\n**El cilindro de repuesto** para el grifo de disco s\u00f3lo es necesario si el grifo sigue con fugas despu\u00e9s de la limpieza; el escape continuo es causado por discos cer\u00e1micos rayados o agrietados. Los cilindros vienen con sellos de neopreno y tornillos de montaje.\n\n####   **Grifos de compresi\u00f3n**\n\n**El grifo de compresi\u00f3n** tiene un ensamble de v\u00e1stago que incluye tuerca de retenida, eje roscado, anillo \"O\", arandela y tornillo. El goteo en el pico ocurre cuando se gasta la arandela, y las fugas alrededor de la manija son causadas por un anillo \"O\" gastado.\n\n**Quite las manijas del grifo para que pueda agarrar** con alicates la tuerca de retenida; afloje la tuerca y remueva todo el montaje del v\u00e1stago.\n\n**Remueva el anillo \"O\" viejo** y reempl\u00e1celo con uno nuevo; tambi\u00e9n cambie la arandela del v\u00e1stago. Limpie todas las partes con vinagre blanco, fregando con un cepillo dental viejo si es necesario. Cubra la arandela y el anillo nuevos con grasa antit\u00e9rmica y vuelva a armar la v\u00e1lvula.\n\n####   **Grifos de cartucho**\n\n**Tanto los monomando como los de doble manija** se consiguen con cartuchos pl\u00e1sticos reemplazables dentro del cuerpo del grifo. Estos cartuchos (usados por PriceP _f_ ister\u2122, Sterling, Kohler, Moen, y otros) regulan el flujo de agua a trav\u00e9s del pico, y en grifos monomando tambi\u00e9n mezclan el agua caliente y fr\u00eda para modificar la temperatura fuera del pico. Para localizar el cartucho de repuesto correcto para esta clase de grifo, es de gran ayuda conocer el fabricante y el modelo.\n\n**Quite la manija** y saque el cartucho viejo; antes de removerlo, anote c\u00f3mo est\u00e1 orientado. Compre un cartucho de repuesto.\n\n**Instale el cartucho de repuesto.** Primero limpie el asiento de la v\u00e1lvula y cubra \u00e9ste y los anillos \"O\" con grasa antit\u00e9rmica. Aseg\u00farese que el nuevo cartucho est\u00e9 en la posici\u00f3n correcta, con sus leng\u00fcetas fijadas en el cuerpo ranurado del grifo. Vuelva a armar la v\u00e1lvula y las manijas.\n\n####   **Grifos de bola**\n\n**El grifo de bola es usado por Delta, Peerless y otros.** La bola encaja en el cuerpo del grifo y es construida con tres orificios (no visibles aqu\u00ed)\u2014una entrada de agua caliente, una de agua fr\u00eda, y la salida, que llena el cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula con l\u00edquido que luego fluye al pico o rociador\u2014. Dependiendo de la posici\u00f3n de la bola, cada orificio de entrada est\u00e1 abierto, cerrado o en un punto intermedio. Estos orificios son sellados en la bola con asientos de v\u00e1lvula, que se presionan contra la bola con resortes. Si el agua gotea en el pico, reemplace los asientos y resortes, o compre un juego de repuestos completo y reemplace todas o la mayor\u00eda de las partes.\n\n**Remueva la bola y la leva viejas** despu\u00e9s de quitar la manija del grifo y el tap\u00f3n. Algunos grifos requieren una herramienta de grifo de bola para remover la manija. Si no es as\u00ed, simplemente use alicates tipo canal para quitar el tap\u00f3n.\n\n**Quite los sellos de neopreno** y los resortes y reempl\u00e1celos con partes nuevas; tambi\u00e9n cambie los anillos \"O\" en el cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula. Es probable que adem\u00e1s deba reemplazar la bola y la leva, especialmente si est\u00e1 comprando un juego de reparaci\u00f3n. Cubra todas las partes de caucho con grasa antit\u00e9rmica, y vuelva a armar el grifo.\n\n####   **Grifos de disco**\n\n**El grifo de disco usado por American Standard,** entre otros, tiene un cartucho de disco ancho oculto debajo de la manija y el tap\u00f3n. Los tornillos de montaje sostienen el cartucho en el cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula. Dos discos cer\u00e1micos ajustados, con orificios, est\u00e1n ocultos dentro del cartucho. La manija desliza el disco superior de una parte hacia la otra sobre el disco inferior estacionario, lo cual alinea y desalinea los orificios en los discos, ajustando el flujo y la mezcla de agua caliente y fr\u00eda.\n\n**Desarme la manija del grifo y remueva el disco viejo.** Tendr\u00e1 que desatornillar los tres tornillos de montaje largos para sacar del grifo el cilindro que contiene los discos cer\u00e1micos.\n\n**Reemplace el cilindro con uno nuevo,** cubriendo las partes de caucho con grasa antit\u00e9rmica antes de instalarlo, y aseg\u00farese que los sellos de caucho encajen bien en las aberturas del cilindro. Arme la manija del grifo.\n\n###   **Rociadores y aireadores**\n\nSi la presi\u00f3n del agua de un rociador de fregadero parece baja, o si el agua se fuga en la manija, usualmente es porque sedimento y acumulaci\u00f3n de cal han obstruido los peque\u00f1os orificios dentro de la cabeza del rociador. Para arreglar el problema, primero separe la cabeza del rociador y limpie las partes. Si la limpieza no ayuda, el problema puede ser causado por una v\u00e1lvula desviadora defectuosa. La v\u00e1lvula dentro del cuerpo del grifo cambia el flujo de agua en el pico para el rociador cuando la manija de \u00e9ste es presionada. Limpiar o reemplazar la v\u00e1lvula puede arreglar los problemas de presi\u00f3n.\n\nCada vez que haga reparaciones a un rociador, vea si la manguera tiene enroscaduras o grietas; si est\u00e1 da\u00f1ada, debe ser reemplazada.\n\nSi la presi\u00f3n de agua en el pico parece baja, o si el flujo est\u00e1 parcialmente obstruido, desarme el aireador y limpie las partes. El aireador es un accesorio con tornillos que tiene una peque\u00f1a tela de alambre que mezcla burbujas de aire diminutas en el flujo de agua. Aseg\u00farese que esta tela no est\u00e9 atascada con sedimento y acumulaci\u00f3n de cal. Si la presi\u00f3n de agua es baja en toda la casa, tal vez se debe a que la tuber\u00eda de hierro galvanizado est\u00e1 corro\u00edda, y en tal caso debe ser reemplazada con cobre (p\u00e1ginas 274 a ).\n\n**Los rociadores de cocina son muy convenientes y,** en teor\u00eda, bastante simples. Sin embargo, se da\u00f1an con sorprendente regularidad, aunque es f\u00e1cil arreglarlos o reemplazarlos.\n\n**La manguera del rociador** es conectada a una entrerrosca en el extremo inferior de la v\u00e1lvula del grifo. Cuando la palanca del rociador es presionada, el agua fluye de una v\u00e1lvula desviadora en el cuerpo del grifo hacia el rociador. Si el chorro es d\u00e9bil o no funciona en lo absoluto, es muy probable que el problema est\u00e9 en la v\u00e1lvula desviadora.\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas desviadoras y los aireadores** var\u00edan de de acuerdo a cada grifo, as\u00ed que debe saber la marca y el modelo del suyo para comprar repuestos. Sin embargo, si lleva las partes viejas a la tienda de suministros de plomer\u00eda, es probable que encuentre los repuestos apropiados.\n\n**Las cabezas de rociador** usualmente son removidas de la manguera aflojando una tuerca de retenida. Puede resolver un problema de rociado d\u00e9bil quitando la cabeza, desarm\u00e1ndola todo lo que pueda y limpi\u00e1ndola.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar un rociador**\n\n**Corte el agua en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n** y remueva la manija del grifo para tener acceso a las partes del mismo. Desarme la manija y el cuerpo para exponer la v\u00e1lvula desviadora. Los grifos de bola, como el mostrado aqu\u00ed, requieren que tambi\u00e9n quite el pico para llegar al desviador.\n\n**Localice la v\u00e1lvula desviadora** , vista aqu\u00ed en la base del cuerpo del grifo. Debido a que diferentes tipos y marcas de grifos tienen desviadores configurados en forma distinta, investigue de antemano informaci\u00f3n sobre su grifo. El grifo mostrado aqu\u00ed es de bola.\n\n**Saque la v\u00e1lvula desviadora** del cuerpo del grifo con alicates planos. Use un cepillo dental empapado en vinagre blanco para limpiar la acumulaci\u00f3n de cal en la v\u00e1lvula. Si \u00e9sta se encuentra en mal estado, ll\u00e9vela a una ferreter\u00eda y compre un repuesto.\n\n**Cubra con grasa antit\u00e9rmica** la arandela o el anillo \"O\" en la v\u00e1lvula desviadora nueva o limpia. Introduzca la v\u00e1lvula en el cuerpo del grifo y rearme \u00e9ste. Abra el flujo de agua y pruebe el rociador; si todav\u00eda no funciona a su gusto, quite la boquilla del rociador y pru\u00e9belo sin el filtro y el aireador en caso de que hayan quedado detritos en la l\u00ednea del rociador durante las reparaciones.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reparar un rociador de cocina**\n\n**Para reemplazar la manguera del rociador,** empiece cortando el agua en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n. Limpie el gabinete bajo el fregadero y p\u00f3ngase protecci\u00f3n para los ojos. Desenrosque la tuerca de acoplamiento que une la manguera vieja a una entrerrosca o tubo debajo del pico del grifo. Use una llave lavaplatos si no agarra la tuerca con los alicates tipo canal.\n\n**Desenrosque la tuerca de montaje** desde abajo y remueva el cuerpo del rociador viejo. Limpie la cubierta del fregadero y luego eche masilla en la base del nuevo rociador. Introduzca el ap\u00e9ndice de \u00e9ste en la abertura de la cubierta.\n\n**Desde abajo, deslice la arandela** de fricci\u00f3n sobre el ap\u00e9ndice del rociador. Enrosque la tuerca de montaje en el ap\u00e9ndice y apriete con una llave lavaplatos o alicates tipo canal, pero sin sobrepasarse. Limpie el exceso de masilla.\n\n**Enrosque la uni\u00f3n para la manguera** del rociador en la entrerrosca bajo el cuerpo del grifo. Para lograr un buen sello, aplique primero compuesto para uniones en la rosca. Apriete la uni\u00f3n con una llave lavaplatos, abra el suministro de agua en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n, y pruebe el nuevo rociador.\n\n###   **Plomer\u00eda defectuosa**\n\nLos grifos de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha tienen los mismos dise\u00f1os b\u00e1sicos de los del lavamanos, y las t\u00e9cnicas para reparar fugas son las descritas en la secci\u00f3n de reparaci\u00f3n de grifos de este libro (p\u00e1ginas 218 a ). Para identificar el dise\u00f1o de su grifo, tal vez deba quitar la manija y desarmarlo.\n\nCuando la ba\u00f1era y la ducha est\u00e1n combinadas, el cabezal de la ducha y el pico de la ba\u00f1era comparten las manijas y l\u00edneas de suministro de agua caliente y fr\u00eda. Los grifos mixtos se consiguen como de tres manijas, dos manijas o monomando (p\u00e1gina siguiente). El n\u00famero de manijas da pistas en cuanto al dise\u00f1o de los grifos y los tipos de reparaciones que pueden requerirse.\n\nCon los grifos mixtos, se usa una v\u00e1lvula desviadora o v\u00e1lvula de compuerta para dirigir el flujo de agua al pico de la ba\u00f1era o al cabezal de la ducha. En los grifos de tres manijas, la del medio controla una v\u00e1lvula desviadora. Si el agua no cambia f\u00e1cilmente de la ba\u00f1era al cabezal de la ducha, o si el agua sigue saliendo por el pico cuando la ducha est\u00e1 abierta, es muy posible que la v\u00e1lvula desviadora necesita ser limpiada y reparada (p\u00e1ginas 230 y ).\n\nLos grifos de dos manijas y monomando usan una v\u00e1lvula de compuerta que es operada por una palanca o bot\u00f3n sobre el pico de la ba\u00f1era. Aunque los desviadores rara vez necesitan reparaci\u00f3n, la palanca de vez en cuando se quiebra, afloja o no permanece en su posici\u00f3n. Para reparar una v\u00e1lvula de compuerta en un pico de ba\u00f1era, reemplace todo el pico.\n\nLos grifos y v\u00e1lvulas desviadoras de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha pueden ser puestos dentro de las cavidades de la pared, y para removerlos suele requerirse una llave de trinquete colocada profundamente.\n\nSi el rociado del cabezal de la ducha es irregular, limpie los orificios; si el cabezal no permanece erguido, remu\u00e9valo y reemplace el anillo \"O\".\n\nPara adicionar la ducha a una ba\u00f1era, instale un adaptador de ducha flexible. Varios fabricantes hacen paquetes de conversi\u00f3n completos que permiten instalar una ducha en menos de una hora.\n\n**La plomer\u00eda de la ducha\/ba\u00f1era** es famosa por presentar goteos en el pico de la ba\u00f1era y el cabezal de la ducha. En la mayor\u00eda de casos, la fuga es hallada en las v\u00e1lvulas controladas por las manijas del grifo.\n\n####   **Grifos mixtos de ba\u00f1era y ducha**\n\n**El grifo de tres manijas** (p\u00e1gina 232) tiene v\u00e1lvulas de compresi\u00f3n o de cartucho.\n\n**El grifo de dos manijas** (p\u00e1gina 234) tiene v\u00e1lvulas que son de compresi\u00f3n o cartuchos dise\u00f1ados.\n\n**El grifo monomando** (p\u00e1ginas 236 y ) tiene v\u00e1lvulas de cartucho, bola o disco.\n\n####   **Reparaci\u00f3n de grifos de ba\u00f1era y ducha de tres manijas**\n\nEl grifo de tres manijas tiene dos para controlar el agua caliente y fr\u00eda, y una tercera manija para controlar la v\u00e1lvula desviadora y luego dirigir el l\u00edquido al pico de la ba\u00f1era o hacia el cabezal de la ducha. Las manijas separadas del agua caliente y fr\u00eda indican los dise\u00f1os de cartucho o compresi\u00f3n. Si necesita realizar una reparaci\u00f3n, dir\u00edjase a la p\u00e1gina 220.\n\nSi la v\u00e1lvula desviadora se pega, si el flujo es d\u00e9bil, o si el agua se desborda por el pico de la ba\u00f1era cuando el flujo est\u00e1 dirigido al cabezal de la ducha, esto indica que el desviador debe ser reparado o reemplazado.\n\nLa mayor\u00eda de v\u00e1lvulas desviadoras son similares a las v\u00e1lvulas de grifo de compresi\u00f3n o cartucho; las de compresi\u00f3n pueden ser reparadas, pero las de cartucho hay que reemplazarlas.\n\nRecuerde que debe cortar el agua antes de iniciar cualquier trabajo de reparaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Un grifo de ducha\/ba\u00f1era de tres manijas** tiene los controles individuales para el agua caliente y fr\u00eda, m\u00e1s una tercera manija para la v\u00e1lvula desviadora.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reparar una v\u00e1lvula desviadora de compresi\u00f3n**\n\n**Remueva la manija** de la v\u00e1lvula con un destornillador y luego desenrosque o arranque la placa.\n\n**Quite la tuerca ciega** con la llave inglesa o alicates tipo canal.\n\n**Desenrosque el ensamble** del v\u00e1stago usando una llave de trinquete colocada profundamente. Si es necesario, remueva la argamasa que rodea la tuerca.\n\n**Quite el tornillo** de lat\u00f3n del v\u00e1stago y reemplace la arandela con un duplicado exacto. Si el tornillo est\u00e1 gastado, c\u00e1mbielo.\n\n**Desenrosque el eje de la tuerca** de retenida.\n\n**Limpie en la tuerca** sedimento y acumulaci\u00f3n de cal, usando un peque\u00f1o cepillo de alambre empapado de vinagre. Cubra todas las partes con grasa antit\u00e9rmica y arme de nuevo la v\u00e1lvula desviadora.\n\n####   **Reparaci\u00f3n de grifos de ba\u00f1era y ducha de dos manijas**\n\nLos grifos de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha de dos manijas son de cartucho o compresi\u00f3n, y pueden ser reparados siguiendo las instrucciones presentadas en las p\u00e1ginas 222 y . Debido a que las v\u00e1lvulas de los grifos pueden ser instaladas dentro de la cavidad de la pared, posiblemente necesitar\u00e1 utilizar una llave de profundidad para remover el v\u00e1stago de la v\u00e1lvula.\n\nLos dise\u00f1os de estos grifos tienen una v\u00e1lvula de compuerta, un mecanismo simple localizado en el pico de la ba\u00f1era que cierra el suministro de agua ah\u00ed y dirige el flujo hacia el cabezal de la ducha. Las v\u00e1lvulas de compuerta rara vez necesitan reparaci\u00f3n; de vez en cuando, la palanca se rompe, afloja o no permanece erguida.\n\nSi el desviador no funciona bien, reemplace el pico de la ba\u00f1era; los picos son econ\u00f3micos y f\u00e1ciles de poner.\n\nRecuerde, siempre debe cortar el agua antes de iniciar cualquier trabajo de plomer\u00eda.\n\n**Un grifo de ducha\/ba\u00f1era** de dos manijas puede funcionar con v\u00e1lvulas de compresi\u00f3n, pero actualmente suelen contener cartuchos reemplazables. A diferencia del modelo de tres manijas, el desviador es una v\u00e1lvula de compuerta sencilla movida por una palanca.\n **Consejos al reemplazar un pico de ba\u00f1era**\n\n**Ubique la peque\u00f1a** ranura de acceso debajo del pico de la ba\u00f1era, la cual indica que el pico es fijado con un tornillo Allen. Remueva \u00e9ste usando una llave Allen; el pico se deslizar\u00e1.\n\n**Desatornille el pico** del grifo con una llave para tubos o introduciendo un destornillador o mango de martillo en la abertura del pico y gir\u00e1ndolo en sentido contrario al de las manecillas del reloj.\n\n**Eche compuesto para** uniones en la rosca antes de reemplazar el pico.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo remover una v\u00e1lvula de grifo puesta profundamente**\n\n**Quite la manija** y desenrosque la placa con alicates tipo canal. Ponga cinta en las quijadas de los alicates para evitar que la placa se raye.\n\n**Remueva la argamasa** que rodea la tuerca ciega usando un martillo de bola y un cortafr\u00edo peque\u00f1o.\n\n**Desenrosque la tuerca** ciega con una llave de trinquete puesta profundamente; remueva la tuerca y el v\u00e1stago del cuerpo del grifo.\n\n####   **Reparaci\u00f3n de grifos monomando de ba\u00f1era y ducha**\n\nEl grifo monomando de ba\u00f1era y ducha tiene una v\u00e1lvula que controla el flujo de agua y la temperatura, y puede ser de bola, cartucho o disco.\n\nSi una v\u00e1lvula de control monomando tiene fugas o no est\u00e1 funcionando correctamente, desarme el grifo, limpie la v\u00e1lvula y reemplace las partes que est\u00e1n desgastadas. Use las t\u00e9cnicas de reparaci\u00f3n descritas en la p\u00e1gina 224 para el grifo de bola, o la p\u00e1gina 225 para el de disco cer\u00e1mico; la reparaci\u00f3n del monomando de cartucho es mostrada en la p\u00e1gina siguiente.\n\nLa direcci\u00f3n del flujo de agua al pico de la ba\u00f1era o al cabezal de la ducha, es controlada por una v\u00e1lvula de compuerta. Las v\u00e1lvulas de compuerta rara vez necesitan reparaci\u00f3n; de vez en cuando, la palanca se quiebra, afloja o no permanece erguida. Si el desviador no funciona bien, reemplace el pico de la ba\u00f1era (p\u00e1gina 235).\n\n**El grifo monomando de ba\u00f1era y ducha** es el m\u00e1s sencillo de manejar y mantener; la manija controla la raz\u00f3n de mezclado de agua caliente y fr\u00eda, y el desviador es una simple v\u00e1lvula de compuerta.\n\n####   **Reparar un grifo monomando de cartucho de ba\u00f1era y ducha**\n\n**Use el destornillador** para remover la manija y la placa.\n\n**Corte el suministro** de agua en las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n incorporadas o en la v\u00e1lvula principal.\n\n**Con la llave inglesa** desenrosque y remueva el anillo retenedor o tuerca ciega.\n\n**Remueva el montaje del cartucho** agarrando el extremo de la v\u00e1lvula con alicates tipo canal y halando suavemente.\n\n**Remueva el sedimento** en el cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula con agua limpia. Reemplace los anillos \"O\" gastados. Reinstale el cartucho y pruebe la v\u00e1lvula; si el grifo no funciona bien, reemplace el cartucho.\n\n####   **Reparaci\u00f3n y cambio de cabezales de ducha**\n\nSi el rociado del cabezal de la ducha es irregular, limpie los orificios. Los orificios de salida o entrada del cabezal pueden atascarse con sedimentos minerales. El cabezal pivotea en diferentes direcciones; si no permanece en su posici\u00f3n o si tiene fugas, reemplace el anillo \"O\" que sella la bola giratoria.\n\nUna ba\u00f1era puede equiparse con ducha instalando un adaptador flexible; juegos completos se consiguen en ferreter\u00edas y centros del hogar.\n\n**Un cabezal de ducha** t\u00edpico es desarmado f\u00e1cilmente para limpieza y reparaci\u00f3n. Algunos incluyen una palanca de leva para ajuste de rociado usada para cambiar la fuerza del chorro.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo limpiar y reparar un cabezal de ducha**\n\n**Desenrosque la tuerca** de la bola giratoria con la llave inglesa o alicates tipo canal. Envuelva las quijadas de la herramienta con cinta para no estropear el acabado. Desenrosque la tuerca de collar\u00edn del cabezal.\n\n**Limpie los orificios** de salida y entrada del cabezal con un alambre delgado y adem\u00e1s con un chorro de agua limpia.\n\n**Reemplace el anillo \"O\" si es** necesario; lubr\u00edquelo con grasa antit\u00e9rmica antes de instalarlo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un adaptador de ducha flexible**\n\n**Remueva el pico** de ba\u00f1era viejo (p\u00e1gina 235), e instale el nuevo con una llave para tubos. El nuevo pico tendr\u00e1 una salida para manguera; envu\u00e9lvalo con un trapo para no estropear el acabado en cromo.\n\n**Una la manguera** flexible a la salida del adaptador y apriete con la llave inglesa o alicates tipo canal.\n\n**Determine la ubicaci\u00f3n** del brazo suspensor del cabezal. Use la manguera como gu\u00eda, y aseg\u00farese que el cabezal pueda ser levantado del brazo.\n\n**Marque la localizaci\u00f3n** de los agujeros. Use una broca de vidrio y azulejos para hacer los agujeros de los anclajes de alba\u00f1iler\u00eda en los azulejos cer\u00e1micos.\n\n**Introduzca los anclajes** en los agujeros, y f\u00edjelos con un mazo de madera o caucho.\n\n**Fije el soporte** del cabezal en la pared, y ponga el cabezal.\n\n###   **Ba\u00f1eras y duchas**\n\n\u00bfLa ba\u00f1era o ducha no est\u00e1 desaguando? Primero, aseg\u00farese que sea s\u00f3lo la ba\u00f1era o la ducha. Si el lavamanos tambi\u00e9n est\u00e1 tapado, tal vez es coincidencia o puede ser que hay un ramal com\u00fan tapado; una se\u00f1al segura de esto es cuando el agua drena del lavamanos a la ba\u00f1era, lo cual podr\u00eda requerir la ayuda de un servicio de limpieza de desag\u00fces, o un sif\u00f3n de tambor que sirva para la limpieza del lavamanos y la ba\u00f1era.\n\nSi el retrete tampoco descarga (o peor, el agua llega a la ba\u00f1era cuando se descarga), entonces est\u00e1 tapado el desag\u00fce de todas las instalaciones del ba\u00f1o; llame a un servicio de limpieza de desag\u00fces. Si sospecha que el problema es s\u00f3lo en la ba\u00f1era o ducha, entonces siga leyendo. Veremos c\u00f3mo limpiar l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce, adem\u00e1s de limpiar y ajustar dos mecanismos de tapones de ba\u00f1era. Ajustar el mecanismo tambi\u00e9n puede ayudar en el problema opuesto: la ba\u00f1era que se desagua cuando queremos tomar un ba\u00f1o.\n\n**As\u00ed como los lavamanos,** los tubos de desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era y la ducha pueden atascarse con jab\u00f3n y cabello. Los mecanismos de retenci\u00f3n del desag\u00fce tambi\u00e9n requieren limpieza y ajuste.\n  **Consejo de mantenimiento**\n\nAl igual que los lavamanos, las ba\u00f1eras y duchas enfrentan el continuo problema del jab\u00f3n y el cabello, que unidos son una fuente segura de atascos. La espuma del jab\u00f3n se coagula al pasar por el desag\u00fce y forma una masa de cabellos que crece con cada ducha o ba\u00f1o. Para evitar este problema, simplemente eche agua limpia hirviente en el desag\u00fce de tiempo en tiempo, a fin de disolver la masa jabonosa y evacuarla.\n\n  **Usar sondas manuales**\n\n**En los desag\u00fces de las duchas** , introduzca la cabeza de la sonda en la abertura del desag\u00fce despu\u00e9s de quitar el colador. Gire la manija de la sonda para extender el cable y la cabeza en el sif\u00f3n y, si el atasco est\u00e1 m\u00e1s all\u00e1, hasta el ramal de desag\u00fce. Al limpiar cualquier desag\u00fce, siempre es mejor recuperar el atasco que desplazarlo l\u00ednea abajo.\n\n**En duchas con ba\u00f1era,** generalmente es m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil introducir la sonda a trav\u00e9s de la abertura de rebose despu\u00e9s de quitar la placa y sacar el acoplamiento de desag\u00fce. Gire la manija para extender el cable y la cabeza de la sonda en el sif\u00f3n y, si el atasco est\u00e1 m\u00e1s adelante, hasta el ramal de desag\u00fce. Al limpiar cualquier desag\u00fce, siempre es mejor recuperar la obstrucci\u00f3n que desplazarla l\u00ednea abajo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo arreglar un desag\u00fce de \u00e9mbolo**\n\n**El desag\u00fce de ba\u00f1era de \u00e9mbolo** tiene una simple rejilla ubicada sobre la abertura de desag\u00fce y un pist\u00f3n. Quite los tornillos en la placa de rebose con un destornillador ranurado o Phillips. Luego hale la placa, el acoplamiento y \u00e9mbolo de la abertura de rebose.\n\n**Limpie cabello y jab\u00f3n del \u00e9mbolo** con un cepillo de fregar. La acumulaci\u00f3n de minerales se resuelve mejor con vinagre blanco y un cepillo dental o un cepillo de alambre peque\u00f1o.\n\n**Ajuste el \u00e9mbolo.** Si la ba\u00f1era no est\u00e1 reteniendo agua con el \u00e9mbolo abajo, es posible que est\u00e9 demasiado alto para bloquear totalmente el agua del desag\u00fce. Afloje la contratuerca con alicates planos, luego enrosque la barra 1\/8\" y apriete la contratuerca. Si la ba\u00f1era desagua mal, tal vez el \u00e9mbolo est\u00e1 puesto muy bajo. Afloje la contratuerca y enrosque la barra 1\/8\" antes de apretar la contratuerca.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo arreglar un desag\u00fce autom\u00e1tico**\n\n**Levante la palanca** de desenganche hasta la posici\u00f3n abierta. Tire del montaje del tap\u00f3n y el brazo de balanceo del desag\u00fce. Remueva jab\u00f3n y cabello con un cepillo lavaplatos en un taz\u00f3n de agua caliente. Limpie sedimentos minerales con un cepillo dental o un cepillo de alambre peque\u00f1o y vinagre blanco.\n\n**Quite los tornillos de la placa.** Tire de la palanca de desenganche y el acoplamiento en la abertura de rebose. Limpie jab\u00f3n y cabello con un cepillo en un taz\u00f3n de agua caliente. Remueva la acumulaci\u00f3n mineral con vinagre blanco y un cepillo de alambre. Lubrique las partes m\u00f3viles del acoplamiento y el brazo de balanceo con grasa antit\u00e9rmica.\n\n**Ajuste el mecanismo** del tap\u00f3n aflojando la contratuerca de la barra de alzar. Si el tap\u00f3n no cierra completamente, acorte el acoplamiento enroscando la barra 1\/8\" m\u00e1s en la abrazadera de ajuste; si no abre lo suficiente, extienda el acoplamiento desenroscando la barra 1\/8\". Apriete la contratuerca antes de colocar el mecanismo y probar el ajuste.\n\n###   **Desag\u00fces de lavamanos\/fregaderos**\n\nCada lavamanos tiene un sif\u00f3n y una l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce; los atascos usualmente son causados por la acumulaci\u00f3n excesiva de jab\u00f3n y cabello en esas partes. Remu\u00e9valos utilizando un desatascador, desconectando y limpiando el sif\u00f3n (ver p\u00e1gina 245), o empleando una sonda manual (ver p\u00e1gina 213).\n\nMuchos lavamanos retienen agua con un tap\u00f3n mec\u00e1nico; si el lavamanos no la retiene, o si el agua en el lavamanos drena muy lentamente, el tap\u00f3n autom\u00e1tico debe ser limpiado y ajustado (p\u00e1gina 243).\n\n**Los lavamanos atascados** pueden ser limpiados con un desatascador est\u00e1ndar (no confundirlo con uno de copa larga). Primero remueva el tap\u00f3n de desag\u00fce autom\u00e1tico y el colador, y tape la abertura de rebose con un trapo h\u00famedo, lo cual le permitir\u00e1 crear presi\u00f3n de aire con el desatascador.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo limpiar un sif\u00f3n de lavamanos**\n\n**Ponga el balde bajo el sif\u00f3n** para aparar agua y desecho. Afloje las tuercas deslizantes con alicates tipo canal; desenr\u00f3squelas con la mano y desl\u00edcelas fuera de las conexiones. Zafe el sif\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva el desecho** y limpie el sif\u00f3n con un cepillo de alambre. Vea si las arandelas de las tuercas est\u00e1n desgastadas y reempl\u00e1celas si es necesario. Reinstale el sif\u00f3n y apriete las tuercas deslizantes.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo limpiar un fregadero**\n\n**Succionar un fregadero no es dif\u00edcil,** pero debe crear una presi\u00f3n ininterrumpida entre el desatascador y la obstrucci\u00f3n. Si tiene lavaplatos, el tubo de desag\u00fce debe ser cerrado con abrazadera y sellado en el triturador o la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce. Los cojinetes de la abrazadera tienen que ser suficientemente grandes para aplanar el tubo en su di\u00e1metro completo (o puede cerrar los extremos del tubo entre tablas peque\u00f1as).\n\n**Si hay un segundo seno,** d\u00edgale a alguien que sostenga el tap\u00f3n del colador en su desag\u00fce o ponga sobre \u00e9l un balde o una olla grande llena de agua. Desdoble la falda dentro del desatascador y ponga \u00e9ste en el desag\u00fce del fregadero que est\u00e1 desatascando. Debe haber suficiente agua en el fregadero para cubrir la cabeza del desatascador. Succione r\u00edtmicamente por seis repeticiones cada vez m\u00e1s en\u00e9rgico, parando de golpe en la \u00faltima repetici\u00f3n. Repita esta secuencia hasta remover el atasco, y ev\u00e1cuelos con mucha agua caliente.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo usar una sonda manual en el brazo del sif\u00f3n**\n\n**Si la succi\u00f3n no funciona,** quite el sif\u00f3n y l\u00edmpielo (p\u00e1gina anterior). Vea si el agua fluye libremente en ambos fregaderos (si tiene dos). A veces los atascos se presentan en la T o en uno de los tubos de desag\u00fce que la alimentan. Estas obstrucciones pueden ser sacadas manualmente o limpiadas con una escobilla limpiabotellas o un alambre. Cuando arme de nuevo el sif\u00f3n, ponga cinta de tefl\u00f3n en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj en las roscas macho de las piezas de desag\u00fce met\u00e1licas. Apriete con alicates tipo canal. Las piezas pl\u00e1sticas no necesitan cinta y deben ser apretadas s\u00f3lo con la mano.\n\n**Si sospecha que el atasco est\u00e1 m\u00e1s adelante del sif\u00f3n,** remueva el brazo del mismo de la uni\u00f3n en la pared. Revise el desag\u00fce de la instalaci\u00f3n con una linterna; si ve agua, significa que el desag\u00fce est\u00e1 tapado. L\u00edmpielo con una sonda manual (ver p\u00e1gina 213).\n\n###   **Desag\u00fces principales y ramales**\n\nSi con un desatascador est\u00e1ndar o una sonda manual no limpia el atasco en una l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce de instalaci\u00f3n, significa que la obstrucci\u00f3n est\u00e1 en un ramal, la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n o el alcantarillado.\n\nPrimero, use un desatascador de barrena para limpiar el ramal de desag\u00fce m\u00e1s cercano a la instalaci\u00f3n obstruida. Los ramales son revisados a trav\u00e9s de uniones de limpieza localizadas en el extremo de la derivaci\u00f3n. Debido a que el agua residual puede estar retenida en las l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce, siempre abra la boca de limpieza con cautela; ponga un balde y trapos bajo la abertura para apararla. Nunca se ubique justo debajo de la abertura mientras desenrosca el tap\u00f3n o tapa.\n\nSi un desatascador de barrena en el ramal no resuelve el problema, el atasco puede estar localizado en la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Para limpiarla, meta el cable del desatascador por respiradero de techo. Aseg\u00farese que el cable sea lo suficientemente largo para extenderse en toda la longitud de la tuber\u00eda. Si no es as\u00ed, tal vez deba alquilar o pedir prestado otro desatascador. Tenga siempre mucho cuidado al trabajar en una escalera o en un tejado.\n\nSi no hay atasco alguno en la tuber\u00eda principal, el problema puede estar en la l\u00ednea de alcantarillado. Localice la boca de limpieza principal, usualmente una uni\u00f3n Y en el extremo inferior de la tuber\u00eda principal. Remueva el tap\u00f3n y meta el cable de una sonda manual en la abertura.\n\nAlgunas l\u00edneas de alcantarillado en las viviendas antiguas tienen un sif\u00f3n general con una uni\u00f3n en forma de U ubicada en el punto donde la tuber\u00eda del alcantarillado sale de la vivienda. La mayor parte de la uni\u00f3n se encuentra por debajo del piso, pero puede identificarse por sus dos aberturas. Utilice una sonda manual para limpiar este sif\u00f3n.\n\nSi el desatascador encuentra resistencia s\u00f3lida en la tuber\u00eda de alcantarillado, saque el cable y examine la barrena. Ra\u00edces finas en la barrena indican que la l\u00ednea est\u00e1 obstruida con ra\u00edces de \u00e1rbol; si hay tierra en ella es porque la l\u00ednea est\u00e1 colapsada.\n\nUse una barrena mec\u00e1nica para limpiar las l\u00edneas de alcantarillado que est\u00e9n tapadas con las ra\u00edces de \u00e1rbol. Las barrenas mec\u00e1nicas (ver p\u00e1ginas 248 y ) se consiguen en centros de alquiler; sin embargo, se trata de un equipo grande y pesado. Antes de alquilarla, compare el costo del alquiler y su capacidad como bricolajero, con el costo de un servicio profesional de limpieza de alcantarillado. Si decide alquilar una, pida las instrucciones completas sobre el manejo del equipo.\n\nConsulte siempre a un servicio profesional de limpieza de alcantarillado si sospecha que hay una l\u00ednea colapsada.\n\n**Limpie el ramal de desag\u00fce** localizando la uni\u00f3n de limpieza en el extremo de la l\u00ednea. Ponga un balde debajo de la abertura para aparar agua residual, luego desenrosque lentamente el tap\u00f3n con una llave inglesa. Limpie los atascos en el ramal de desag\u00fce con una sonda manual.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo limpiar un ramal de desag\u00fce**\n\n**Limpie la tuber\u00eda** principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n metiendo el cable de una sonda manual a trav\u00e9s del respiradero de techo. Tenga siempre mucho cuidado mientras trabaja en una escalera o tejado.\n\n**Limpie el sif\u00f3n** general en la l\u00ednea de alcantarillado usando la sonda manual. Remueva lentamente s\u00f3lo el tap\u00f3n del \"lado de la calle\" del sif\u00f3n. Si el agua escurre por la abertura al quitar el tap\u00f3n, el atasco est\u00e1 en el alcantarillado m\u00e1s all\u00e1 del sif\u00f3n; si no escurre agua, examine el sif\u00f3n. Si no hay obstrucci\u00f3n en el sif\u00f3n, ponga en su sitio el tap\u00f3n de la calle y remueva el de la casa. Use la sonda para limpiar atascos localizados entre el sif\u00f3n general y la tuber\u00eda principal.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo cambiar un tap\u00f3n de limpieza de desag\u00fce principal**\n\n**Remueva el tap\u00f3n de limpieza** con una llave inglesa grande. Si el tap\u00f3n no cede, aplique aceite penetrante alrededor del borde del mismo, espere 10 minutos e int\u00e9ntelo de nuevo. Ponga trapos y un balde debajo de la abertura para aparar el agua que est\u00e9 retenida en la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Remueva los tapones** dif\u00edciles poniendo el borde cortante de un cortafr\u00edo sobre el borde del tap\u00f3n. Golpee el cincel con un martillo de bola para mover el tap\u00f3n en sentido contrario a las manecillas del reloj. Si no cede, h\u00e1galo pedazos con el cortafr\u00edo y el martillo y remueva los trozos.\n\n**Reemplace el tap\u00f3n viejo con uno nuevo.** Aplique compuesto para uniones en la rosca del tap\u00f3n de repuesto y enr\u00f3squelo en la uni\u00f3n de limpieza.\n\n**Alternativa:** cambie el tap\u00f3n viejo por uno de caucho expandible. Una tuerca de mariposa aprieta el n\u00facleo de goma entre dos placas met\u00e1licas; el caucho se pandea un poco para crear un sello herm\u00e9tico.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo desatascar con barrena mec\u00e1nica un desag\u00fce de piso**\n\n  **Desatascar tuber\u00edas grandes**\n\nSi va a desatascar una tuber\u00eda m\u00e1s grande, quiz\u00e1s tenga que abrir una boca de limpieza con 10 \u00f3 20 pies verticales de agua residual detr\u00e1s de ella. Tenga cuidado; el tap\u00f3n podr\u00eda abrirse de manera violenta cuando est\u00e9 flojo, arrojando agua de desecho nociva sin control sobre cualquier cosa en su camino, incluy\u00e9ndolo a usted. Las siguientes son algunas recomendaciones:\n\nEn lo posible, remueva el sif\u00f3n o la abertura de limpieza cerca del tope del nivel de agua retenida. Meta el desatascador; aseg\u00farese que el aparato y sus conexiones el\u00e9ctricas no se mojen si sale agua residual con fuerza de la abertura de limpieza.\n\nPrimero use la herramienta de repuesto en el desatascador, para que el agua salga a por un agujero peque\u00f1o antes de ampliarlo con una herramienta de corte m\u00e1s grande. Si est\u00e1 frente a una boca de limpieza de 3 \u00f3 4\", use tres barrenas: el repuesto, un cortador peque\u00f1o y luego uno m\u00e1s grande para un mejor trabajo.\n\n**Quite la tapa del desag\u00fce de piso** con un destornillador Phillips o ranurado. En el desag\u00fce ver\u00e1 un tap\u00f3n de limpieza; remu\u00e9valo con sus alicates m\u00e1s grandes tipo canal. Esta abertura de limpieza le permite dejar de lado el sif\u00f3n. Si el tap\u00f3n est\u00e1 pegado, aplique aceite penetrante en la rosca y d\u00e9jelo asentar media hora antes de intentar quitarlo una vez m\u00e1s. Si la llave inglesa no lo suelta, consiga una llave para tubos grande en un almac\u00e9n especializado o una ferreter\u00eda. Tambi\u00e9n puede desatascar a trav\u00e9s del sif\u00f3n si tiene que hacerlo.\n\n**Alquile un desatascador** de tambor el\u00e9ctrico con al menos 50 pies de cable de \u00bd\". La empresa de alquiler debe proveer un cable de extensi\u00f3n a tierra del tama\u00f1o apropiado, guantes de cuero gruesos y protecci\u00f3n para los ojos. El desatascador debe venir con una herramienta de repuesto, una de corte y posiblemente una herramienta para resorte indicados para una tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce de 2\". Primero ponga la cabeza de la espiral (con la m\u00e1quina desconectada).\n\n**Use ropa ajustada y contenga el cabello largo.** Ponga la m\u00e1quina en un lugar seco a menos de tres pies de la abertura de desag\u00fce, y con\u00e9ctela en un circuito a tierra protegido GFI. Use guantes y protecci\u00f3n para los ojos. Ubique el interruptor de pie donde sea f\u00e1cil activarlo; aseg\u00farese que el interruptor FOR\/REV est\u00e9 en la posici\u00f3n de avance \"Forward\" (foto anexa). Introduzca con la mano la herramienta de limpieza y parte del cable en el desag\u00fce o la abertura de limpieza antes de encender la m\u00e1quina.\n\n**Las barrenas mec\u00e1nicas** estacionarios (a diferencia de las de mango tipo pistola) son controladas por un pedal llamado \"actuador\", de tal forma que se pueda prender y apagar sin usar las manos.\n\n**Teniendo amabas manos** enguantadas sobre el cable, presione el pedal para poner en marcha la m\u00e1quina. Empuje gradualmente el cable giratorio en la abertura del desag\u00fce. Si la rotaci\u00f3n disminuye o no puede introducir m\u00e1s el cable, h\u00e1lelo antes de empujarlo de nuevo; no lo fuerce. El cable debe girar cuando el motor est\u00e1 prendido, porque de lo contrario podr\u00eda enroscarse o doblarse. Si la herramienta de limpieza se tranca, retroc\u00e9dala atr\u00e1s de la obstrucci\u00f3n, y encienda de nuevo el interruptor.\n\n**Trabaje gradualmente en** la obstrucci\u00f3n tirando hacia atr\u00e1s el cable cada vez que la m\u00e1quina empiece a atascarse, y emp\u00fajela de nuevo cuando vuelva a avanzar. Nunca permita que el cable deje de girar cuando el motor est\u00e9 prendido. Cuando haya atravesado el atasco o encontrado un objeto, saque el cable de la tuber\u00eda; tire manualmente de \u00e9l mientras la m\u00e1quina sigue en posici\u00f3n de avance, \"Forward\". Cuando la herramienta de limpieza est\u00e9 cerca de la abertura del desag\u00fce, libere el pedal y deje que el cable se detenga antes de meter con la mano los \u00faltimos 2 \u00f3 3 pies de cable en el tambor.\n\n**Despu\u00e9s de limpiar la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce,** use el desatascador en el sif\u00f3n; finalice limpiando el aparato. Envuelva cinta de tefl\u00f3n en el sentido de las manecillas del reloj en la rosca del tap\u00f3n y col\u00f3quelo. Eche agua caliente con una manguera desde el lavadero o use un balde para evacuar residuos en el sif\u00f3n y la tuber\u00eda.\n\n###   **Ramales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos**\n\nEn nuestro proyecto de demostraci\u00f3n, reemplazaremos ramales de desag\u00fce para una ba\u00f1era y un lavamanos. El desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era bajar\u00e1 por el s\u00f3tano antes de conectarse con la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, mientras el del lavamanos avanzar\u00e1 horizontalmente para unirse directamente a dicha tuber\u00eda.\n\nEl respiradero para la ba\u00f1era entra al desv\u00e1n, donde se unir\u00e1 a la tuber\u00eda principal. El lavamanos no requiere respiradero secundario, pues su ubicaci\u00f3n est\u00e1 dentro de la distancia cr\u00edtica de la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva tuber\u00eda vieja** s\u00f3lo donde obstruya la ruta planeada para la nueva. Probablemente tendr\u00e1 que quitar tubos de desag\u00fce y suministro en cada instalaci\u00f3n, pero la tuber\u00eda restante usualmente puede dejarse ah\u00ed. Una sierra alternativa con hoja para cortar metales es ideal para este trabajo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar ramales de desag\u00fce**\n\n**Determine una ruta** para la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce vertical que bajar\u00e1 por las cavidades de la pared hasta el s\u00f3tano. Para nuestro proyecto, cortamos una secci\u00f3n de la placa de base a fin de pasar un tubo para desag\u00fce de ba\u00f1era de 1\u00bd\" desde el s\u00f3tano hasta el ba\u00f1o.\n\n**Desde el s\u00f3tano,** abra un agujero en la parte inferior de la pared, debajo de la abertura que hizo. Mida, corte e introduzca un tubo de desag\u00fce en la pared del ba\u00f1o. Un tubo flexible de CPVC es \u00fatil para guiar el tubo de desag\u00fce en la pared. Para tuber\u00eda muy larga, tal vez necesite unir dos o m\u00e1s tubos con juntas mientras la introduce.\n\n**Fije el tubo de desag\u00fce vertical** con una abrazadera apoyada en bloques 2 \u00d7 4 clavados entre las vigas. Tenga cuidado de no apretar demasiado las abrazaderas, porque podr\u00eda da\u00f1ar el tubo.\n\n**Instale un tubo** horizontal desde la T de desag\u00fce en la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, hasta el tubo de desag\u00fce vertical. Mantenga un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda principal, y use una uni\u00f3n Y con codo de 45\u00b0 para formar una boca de limpieza donde se encuentren el tubo horizontal y el vertical.\n\n**Pegue con cola solvente una T** de desag\u00fce en el tope del tubo vertical. Para un desag\u00fce de ba\u00f1era, como el mostrado aqu\u00ed, la T debe quedar bien debajo del nivel del piso para tener en cuenta el sif\u00f3n. Tal vez deba mellar o abrir un agujero en las vigas del piso para unir el sif\u00f3n a la T.\n\n**Desde el desv\u00e1n,** haga un agujero en la parte superior de la pared h\u00fameda del ba\u00f1o, directamente arriba del tubo de desag\u00fce de la ba\u00f1era. Baje un respiradero de 1\u00bd\" hasta la localizaci\u00f3n de la ba\u00f1era, y p\u00e9guelo con cola solvente en la T. Aseg\u00farese que el tubo se extienda al menos 1 pie en el desv\u00e1n.\n\n**Remueva partes de** pared cuando sea necesario para dar acceso a la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce horizontal desde las instalaciones hasta la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Aqu\u00ed, pusimos tuber\u00eda de 1\u00bd\" desde un lavamanos hasta la tuber\u00eda principal. Marque la ruta de desag\u00fce en los montantes expuestos con un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda principal. Use una sierra alternativa o de vaiv\u00e9n para mellar los montantes.\n\n**Asegure los tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n viejos** con abrazaderas apoyadas por entramado pegado entre los montantes.\n\n**Remueva los tubos** viejos de desag\u00fce y suministro, donde sea necesario, a fin de abrir espacio para pasar la nueva tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Usando un codo redondeado y un tubo recto,** arme una tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce que vaya desde la localizaci\u00f3n de la conexi\u00f3n de desag\u00fce hasta la T en la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. Utilice un codo de 90\u00b0 y un tubo corto para crear una conexi\u00f3n que sobresalga al menos 2\" de la pared; luego f\u00edjela en una tabla de soporte de \u00be\" pegada entre montantes.\n\n**Proteja la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce** poniendo placas met\u00e1licas sobre las muescas en los montantes. Las placas protectoras evitan que la tuber\u00eda sea perforada cuando las superficies de pared son colocadas.\n\n**En el desv\u00e1n,** use un codo de respiradero y tuber\u00eda recta para conectar el respiradero vertical de la ba\u00f1era en la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n.\n\n###   **Tuber\u00edas principales**\n\nAunque una tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n rara vez se oxida completamente, es casi imposible unir nuevos ramales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos a una vieja tuber\u00eda de hierro colado. Por esta raz\u00f3n, los contratistas de plomer\u00eda a veces recomiendan reemplazar la tuber\u00eda de hierro con una pl\u00e1stica durante el proyecto de renovaci\u00f3n.\n\nTenga presente que reemplazar la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n no es tarea f\u00e1cil; tendr\u00e1 que cortar secciones gruesas de hierro colado, por lo cual es esencial un ayudante. Antes de iniciar el trabajo, aseg\u00farese de tener un plan completo para su sistema de plomer\u00eda, y haber dise\u00f1ado una tuber\u00eda principal que incluya todas las uniones requeridas para conectar ramales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos. Mientras el trabajo est\u00e9 en marcha, ninguna de las instalaciones con plomer\u00eda ser\u00e1 utilizable. Para agilizar el proyecto y minimizar la incomodidad, haga todo el trabajo posible de demolici\u00f3n y construcci\u00f3n preliminar antes de iniciar con la tuber\u00eda principal.\n\nDebido a que las tuber\u00edas principales de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n tienen hasta 4\" de di\u00e1metro, poner una nueva a trav\u00e9s de las paredes puede ser dificultoso. Para resolver este problema, nuestro proyecto emplea una soluci\u00f3n com\u00fan: crear una pared falsa en el rinc\u00f3n de una habitaci\u00f3n a fin de dar el espacio necesario para extender la nueva tuber\u00eda principal desde el s\u00f3tano hasta el desv\u00e1n. Cuando la instalaci\u00f3n sea terminada, la pared ser\u00e1 acabada con cart\u00f3n tabla para que se empareje con la habitaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Una tuber\u00eda nueva** de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n es instalada mejor cerca de la ubicaci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda vieja; de esta forma, la nueva es conectada a la uni\u00f3n de limpieza en el piso del s\u00f3tano usada por el bajante antiguo de hierro colado.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo cambiar la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n**\n\n**Asegure la tuber\u00eda de hierro colado** cerca del techo del s\u00f3tano con una abrazadera instalada entre las vigas del piso. Para apoyar la abrazadera, use bloques de madera pegados en las vigas con tornillos para cart\u00f3n tabla de 3\". Tambi\u00e9n sujete con abrazadera la tuber\u00eda en el desv\u00e1n, en el punto donde pasa a la cavidad de la pared. _Advertencia: una tuber\u00eda de hierro del s\u00f3tano hasta el desv\u00e1n pesa cientos de libras, nunca la corte antes de asegurarla con abrazaderas sobre la l\u00ednea de corte._\n\n**Use cortador de** presi\u00f3n de hierro colado (p\u00e1gina 268) o una sierra alternativa para seccionar la tuber\u00eda cerca del piso del s\u00f3tano, 8\" arriba de la boca de limpieza, y cerca del techo, a ras del borde inferior de las vigas. Debe tener un ayudante que sostenga la tuber\u00eda mientras corta la secci\u00f3n. _Nota: despu\u00e9s de cortar la tuber\u00eda principal, tape el extremo abierto con un trapo para impedir que salgan gases cloacales._\n\n**Clave entramado sobre el canto inferior** de las vigas a trav\u00e9s de la tuber\u00eda cortada. Luego, abra un agujero de 6\" de di\u00e1metro en el techo del s\u00f3tano donde ir\u00e1 la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, usando una sierra alternativa. Suspenda una plomada en el punto central de la abertura como gu\u00eda para alinear la tuber\u00eda nueva.\n\n**Una un segmento de 5 pies de tubo pl\u00e1stico PVC,** del mismo di\u00e1metro que la tuber\u00eda vieja, al extremo expuesto de la uni\u00f3n de limpieza de hierro colado, usando un acoplamiento de cinta con manguito de neopreno.\n\n**Ajuste en seco codos de 45\u00b0 y tubos pl\u00e1sticos** rectos para crear la nueva tuber\u00eda, aline\u00e1ndola con la plomada centrada en la abertura del techo.\n\n**Ajuste en seco una T de desag\u00fce en la tuber\u00eda,** con las entradas necesarias para los ramales que ser\u00e1n conectados en el s\u00f3tano. Aseg\u00farese que la uni\u00f3n quede en una altura que permitir\u00e1 a los ramales tener el declive apropiado de \u00bc\" por pie hacia la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Determine la longitud** para la siguiente parte de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, midiendo desde la T del s\u00f3tano hasta la siguiente uni\u00f3n planeada en la tuber\u00eda vertical. En nuestro proyecto, instalamos una T entre las vigas del piso, donde fue conectado el desag\u00fce para retrete.\n\n**Corte un tubo pl\u00e1stico PVC de la longitud determinada,** m\u00e9talo en la abertura y ajuste en seco en la T. _Nota: para los tramos de tuber\u00eda muy largos, debe construir una secci\u00f3n vertical pegando con cola dos o m\u00e1s segmentos de tubo junto con uniones._\n\n**Revise la longitud de la tuber\u00eda principal,** luego pegue con cola solvente todas las uniones. Sujete la nueva tuber\u00eda con una abrazadera apoyada sobre dos bloques pegados entre vigas del techo del s\u00f3tano.\n\n**Ponga la siguiente T en la tuber\u00eda.** En nuestro proyecto de demostraci\u00f3n, la T yace entre vigas del piso y fue usada para conectar el desag\u00fce del retrete. Aseg\u00farese que la T est\u00e9 puesta en una altura que tenga en cuenta el declive apropiado de \u00bc\" por pie para el desag\u00fce del retrete.\n\n**Adicione tubos con tes instaladas** donde otras instalaciones desaguar\u00e1n en la tuber\u00eda. En nuestro ejemplo, colocamos una T con un buje inserto de 1\u00bd\" donde el desag\u00fce del lavamanos fue unido a la tuber\u00eda principal. Aseg\u00farese que las tes queden puestas de tal forma que permitan el declive correcto de los ramales de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Abra un agujero en el techo** donde se extender\u00e1 al desv\u00e1n la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, luego mida, corte y pegue el siguiente tramo de tuber\u00eda, que debe extenderse al menos 1 pie en el desv\u00e1n.\n\n**Remueva el vierteaguas** del tejado alrededor de la vieja tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n; para hacerlo, tal vez deba quitar tablillas o tejas. _Nota: siempre sea cauteloso al trabajar en el tejado; si no est\u00e1 seguro de su capacidad para este trabajo, contrate a un especialista en este tipo de reparaci\u00f3n para que quite el vierteaguas viejo e instale uno nuevo alrededor del nuevo respiradero._\n\n**En el desv\u00e1n,** remueva los respiraderos viejos, donde sea necesario, luego seccione la tuber\u00eda principal con un cortador de hierro colado, y b\u00e1jela desde la abertura del techo con un ayudante. Sujete la tuber\u00eda vieja con una abrazadera instalada entre vigas.\n\n**Pegue con cola solvente una T de respiradero,** con cojinete de 1\u00bd\" en la entrada lateral, en el extremo superior de la nueva tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n. La entrada lateral debe apuntar hacia el respiradero auxiliar m\u00e1s cercano que venga de abajo.\n\n**Finalice la instalaci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda de desecho y** respiraci\u00f3n usando codos de 45\u00b0 y tubos rectos para extenderla a trav\u00e9s de la abertura del techo. La nueva tuber\u00eda debe sobresalir al menos 1 pie del tejado, pero no m\u00e1s de 2 pies.\n\n####   **Proteger contra la lluvia la tuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n**\n\n**Afloje las tablillas o tejas** que est\u00e1n sobre la nueva tuber\u00eda, y remueva los clavos usando una palanca plana. Ya instalado, el vierteaguas met\u00e1lico har\u00e1 contacto pleno sobre las tejas que rodean el respiradero. Eche cemento para techado en el rev\u00e9s del vierteaguas.\n\n**Deslice el vierteaguas sobre el respiradero,** y con cuidado meta la base bajo las tejas. Presione el reborde firmemente contra el tejado para esparcir el cemento, luego f\u00edjelo con clavos para vierteaguas con empaques de caucho. Sujete de nuevo las tejas donde sea necesario.\n\n###   **Tuber\u00eda de suministro**\n\nAl reemplazar la tuber\u00eda vieja de suministro de agua, le recomendamos que use cobre r\u00edgido tipo M o PEX. Utilice tubos de \u00be\" para la tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n principal, y tubos de \u00bd\" para los ramales que van hacia todas las instalaciones individuales.\n\nPor conveniencia, extienda las tuber\u00edas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda paralelas y separadas entre 3\" y 6\". Use las rutas m\u00e1s directas posibles al planear el trazado, porque demasiados codos en la tuber\u00eda causan una resistencia significativa y reducen la presi\u00f3n del agua.\n\nEs buena idea remover la tuber\u00eda de suministro vieja expuesta, pero la que est\u00e1 oculta en paredes puede ser dejada ah\u00ed, a menos que estorbe en la instalaci\u00f3n de la nueva tuber\u00eda de suministro.\n\n**Sujete la tuber\u00eda** de suministro de cobre al menos cada 10 pies en los tramos verticales y 6 pies en los horizontales (revise los c\u00f3digos locales). Con cobre use siempre materiales de apoyo de pl\u00e1stico o cobre; nunca utilice acero, porque puede interactuar con el cobre y generar corrosi\u00f3n.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar tuber\u00eda de suministro de agua**\n\n**Corte el agua en el lado de la calle del contador,** y desconecte y remueva la tuber\u00eda vieja del lado de la casa. Suelde un adaptador macho de \u00be\" y una v\u00e1lvula de control de paso total, en un tubo corto de cobre de \u00be\", luego una este montaje al lado de la casa del contador. Extienda la tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n de agua fr\u00eda de \u00be\" hacia la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s cercana, que usualmente es el calentador de agua.\n\n**En el calentador de agua,** instale una T de \u00be\" en la tuber\u00eda de agua fr\u00eda. Use dos tubos de cobre de \u00be\" y una v\u00e1lvula de control de paso total para poner un ramal hasta el calentador de agua. Desde la abertura de salida en el calentador de agua, extienda un tubo de distribuci\u00f3n de agua caliente de \u00be\". Contin\u00fae las l\u00edneas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda en rutas paralelas hacia el siguiente grupo de instalaciones en su casa.\n\n**Determine rutas para** ramales de suministro abriendo agujeros en las cavidades de los montantes. Instale uniones T, luego inicie las derivaciones instalando v\u00e1lvulas de control de lat\u00f3n. Los ramales deben ser formados con tubos de \u00be\" si sirven a m\u00e1s de una instalaci\u00f3n, y de \u00bd\" si s\u00f3lo suplen a una instalaci\u00f3n.\n\n**Extienda las derivaciones hacia las instalaciones.** En nuestro proyecto, pusimos ramales verticales de \u00be\" a trav\u00e9s de la pared falsa hasta el ba\u00f1o. Dirija la tuber\u00eda alrededor de obst\u00e1culos, tales como una tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n, usando codos de 45\u00b0 y 90\u00b0 y tubos cortos.\n\n**Cuando los ramales deban pasar por montantes** o vigas de piso, abra agujeros o haga muescas en las partes del armaz\u00f3n, y luego introduzca los tubos. En el caso de tramos largos de tuber\u00eda, tal vez deba acoplar dos o m\u00e1s tubos cortos, usando uniones mientras crea la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Instale tes reductoras de \u00be\" a \u00bd\"** y codos para extender las derivaciones a instalaciones individuales. En este cuarto de ba\u00f1o, instalamos una conexi\u00f3n de agua caliente y fr\u00eda para la ba\u00f1era y el lavamanos, y una de agua fr\u00eda para el retrete. T\u00e1pelas hasta que su trabajo sea examinado y la pared haya sido terminada.\n\n###   **Tuber\u00eda reventada**\n\nSi un tubo se congela y se rompe, hay que repararlo como sea, lo m\u00e1s pronto posible. Hay muchos productos de arreglo temporal disponibles, algunos incluyen abrazaderas y manguitos, otros masillas ep\u00f3xicas y cinta de fibra de vidrio. Estas reparaciones usualmente solucionan el problema por un fin de semana. Tambi\u00e9n veremos c\u00f3mo poner acoples de reparaci\u00f3n deslizantes, un arreglo m\u00e1s duradero. Sin importar qu\u00e9 elija hacer, no vaya a la tienda de plomer\u00eda sin determinar el di\u00e1metro y el material del tubo.\n\n**La tuber\u00eda de suministro puede reventarse** por muchas razones, pero la causa m\u00e1s com\u00fan es agua que se congela y expande en el tubo. Primero corte el agua, luego haga el arreglo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo arreglar tuber\u00eda con abrazaderas de reparaci\u00f3n**\n\n**Seque el \u00e1rea da\u00f1ada del tubo** y lime los bordes \u00e1speros con una lima met\u00e1lica. Instale el manguito de caucho que viene con la abrazadera alrededor del \u00e1rea rota. La juntura debe quedar hacia el lado opuesto del da\u00f1o.\n\n**Ponga las dos** mitades de la abrazadera de tal forma que el manguito de caucho quede apretado entre ellas.\n\n**Introduzca los tornillos** en la abrazadera de reparaci\u00f3n y enrosque tuercas en los extremos. Apriete los tornillos hasta que la presi\u00f3n de la abrazadera selle el \u00e1rea da\u00f1ada. _Nota: esta es s\u00f3lo una reparaci\u00f3n temporal; reemplace el tubo roto lo m\u00e1s pronto posible._\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un acoplamiento de reparaci\u00f3n**\n\n**Para una reparaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s duradera (no permanente),** use un acoplamiento de compresi\u00f3n deslizante. Este acoplamiento viene con partes para hacer una uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n\u2014tambi\u00e9n puede comprar un acoplamiento deslizante que sea s\u00f3lo un tubo de cobre con un di\u00e1metro interno igual al di\u00e1metro externo del tubo da\u00f1ado, pero para esto se requiere soldadura\u2014. Corte el agua en la v\u00e1lvula de control m\u00e1s cercana, y marque los l\u00edmites de la secci\u00f3n del tubo que va a ser reemplazada.\n\n**Corte la secci\u00f3n de tubo da\u00f1ada** con un cortador de tubos; las dos ruedas de la herramienta deben hacer contacto uniforme sobre el tubo. Gire el cortador alrededor del tubo; la l\u00ednea que corta debe hacer un c\u00edrculo perfecto, no una espiral. Apri\u00e9telo un poco con cada rotaci\u00f3n hasta que el tubo se quiebre. Repita el procedimiento en la otra marca.\n\n**Desbarbe el interior de los tubos con la hoja triangular** del cortador.\n\n**Deslice las tuercas** y los anillos de compresi\u00f3n que vienen con el acoplamiento de reparaci\u00f3n sobre los extremos cortados del tubo, y luego deslice el acoplamiento sobre un extremo. Desl\u00edcelo m\u00e1s en el tubo y luego en sentido contrario para que encaje en la otra secci\u00f3n de tubo y el \u00e1rea de reparaci\u00f3n quede centrada en el acoplamiento. Apriete cada tuerca de compresi\u00f3n con alicates mientras estabiliza el acoplamiento con la llave inglesa.\n\n###   **Tuber\u00eda ruidosa**\n\nLa tuber\u00eda puede hacer un ruido estrepitoso cuando los grifos son cerrados o cuando se cierran abruptamente v\u00e1lvulas de lavadoras u otros aparatos autom\u00e1ticos. La parada repentina del flujo de agua atrapa aire y crea una onda de choque, llamada choque de agua, que mueve estrepitosamente el sistema de suministro. Algunos tubos chocan contra los montantes o las vigas, creando de esa forma un ruido adicional.\n\nEl choque de agua puede ser m\u00e1s que una simple molestia; la onda de choque podr\u00eda llegar a causar da\u00f1o en la tuber\u00eda y las uniones. Si una v\u00e1lvula de escape en el calentador de agua tiene fugas, tal vez no es porque est\u00e9 defectuosa, sino que hay un choque de presi\u00f3n en el sistema de suministro.\n\nSe puede eliminar el choque de agua instalando un mecanismo sencillo llamado supresor de choque de agua en la l\u00ednea de suministro. Hay supresores econ\u00f3micos lo suficientemente peque\u00f1os para ser instalados con facilidad cerca de la v\u00e1lvula o aparato ruidoso (entre m\u00e1s cerca, mejor). Pueden ser puestos horizontal o verticalmente, o en \u00e1ngulo, sin alterar su eficacia. A diferencia de las antiguas c\u00e1maras de aire, el agua no puede llenar un supresor, as\u00ed que deber\u00edan ser eficaces para la vida \u00fatil del sistema.\n\nLos tubos que golpean contra montantes y vigas son silenciados amortigu\u00e1ndolos con aislamiento de tuber\u00eda. Aseg\u00farese que los cuelgatubos est\u00e9n ajustados y la tuber\u00eda bien apoyada.\n\n**La tuber\u00eda ruidosa es una gran molestia,** pero tambi\u00e9n le indica un posible problema en el sistema de suministro.\n\n**La tuber\u00eda floja puede golpear o rozar** contra los estribos de las vigas creando ruido. Use aislamiento de caucho esponjoso para amortiguar los tubos.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un supresor de choque de agua**\n\n**Corte el suministro** de agua y desag\u00fce la tuber\u00eda; mida y corte una secci\u00f3n de tubo horizontal para una T.\n\n**Instale una T** lo m\u00e1s cerca posible de la v\u00e1lvula; use las t\u00e9cnicas ya descritas.\n\n**Instale un tubo** corto en el brazo de derivaci\u00f3n de la T; este tubo ser\u00e1 usado para poner una uni\u00f3n roscada.\n\n**Ponga una uni\u00f3n** roscada recomendada por el fabricante del supresor.\n\n**Envuelva la rosca del supresor con cinta de tefl\u00f3n.** Enr\u00f3squelo en la uni\u00f3n con la mano; apriete sosteniendo la uni\u00f3n con una llave inglesa y girando el supresor con la otra llave, pero sin sobrepasarse. Abra el suministro de agua y revise si hay fugas.\n\n## **Herramientas, materiales y destrezas en plomer\u00eda**\n\nLa plomer\u00eda dom\u00e9stica no requiere muchas herramientas especializadas o costosas; unos buenos alicates tipo canal se encargar\u00e1n de gran parte del trabajo. Pero habr\u00e1 ocasiones donde valdr\u00e1 la pena invertir en una llave spud o una llave lavaplatos. Herramientas m\u00e1s grandes y costosas, tales como un desatascador el\u00e9ctrico, pueden ser alquiladas. Como pasa con cualquier trabajo de mejoramiento de la vivienda, la plomer\u00eda simplemente requiere que se escoja la herramienta apropiada. Este cap\u00edtulo ayudar\u00e1 a hacer tales elecciones.\n\nEl tipo de material que se utilice tendr\u00e1 un gran efecto en el trabajo; los tubos pl\u00e1sticos son unidos con soldadura solvente, mientras el cobre soldado y las piezas de PEX son pegados con anillos de presi\u00f3n. Cada material est\u00e1 ligado a un peque\u00f1o grupo de uniones, de adaptadores y herramientas manuales. Aqu\u00ed veremos c\u00f3mo agrupar esas piezas correctamente.\n\nFinalmente, un buen trabajo tiene como base una t\u00e9cnica apropiada y paciencia. No podemos ense\u00f1arle paciencia, pero aqu\u00ed ver\u00e1 las t\u00e9cnicas que necesitar\u00e1 para convertirse en un buen plomero dom\u00e9stico.\n\n###   **Herramientas de plomer\u00eda**\n\nMuchos proyectos y reparaciones de plomer\u00eda son hechos con herramientas manuales b\u00e1sicas que quiz\u00e1s usted ya tiene. Adicionar otras herramientas sencillas lo dejar\u00e1 preparado para enfrentar todos los proyectos en este libro. Herramientas especializadas, tales como un cortador de presi\u00f3n o una carretilla, se consiguen en tiendas de alquiler. Cuando las compre, invierta en productos de calidad.\n\nCuide siempre las herramientas adecuadamente; l\u00edmpielas despu\u00e9s de usarlas, quit\u00e1ndoles tierra y polvo con un trapo suave. Evite la herrumbre en las herramientas met\u00e1licas limpi\u00e1ndolas con un trapo empapado de aceite dom\u00e9stico. Si una herramienta de metal se moja, s\u00e9quela en seguida, y luego l\u00edmpiela con un trapo aceitado. Mantenga organizados los gabinetes y las cajas de herramientas; aseg\u00farese que todas las piezas queden bien guardadas.\n\n**Las herramientas el\u00e9ctricas** manuales hacen cualquier trabajo m\u00e1s r\u00e1pido, f\u00e1cil y seguro. Las herramientas inal\u00e1mbricas brindan mayor comodidad. Use un taladro el\u00e9ctrico inal\u00e1mbrico de 3\/8\" para pr\u00e1cticamente cualquier trabajo de taladrado.\n\n**Las herramientas de alquiler** pueden necesitarse en trabajos especiales. La sierra de ingletar el\u00e9ctrica hace cortes r\u00e1pidos y precisos en muchos materiales, incluyendo tubos pl\u00e1sticos. El desatascador el\u00e9ctrico remueve ra\u00edces de \u00e1rboles en alcantarillas. La carretilla mueve objetos pesados como calentadores de agua. El cortador de presi\u00f3n corta tubos de hierro colado. El taladro de \u00e1ngulo recto abre agujeros en \u00e1reas dif\u00edciles de alcanzar.\n\n###   **Materiales de plomer\u00eda**\n\n  **Tipos de tubo comunes**\n\n###   **Cobre**\n\nEl cobre es el material ideal para la tuber\u00eda de suministro de agua; resiste la corrosi\u00f3n y tiene superficies lisas que facilitan el flujo del l\u00edquido. Los tubos de cobre se consiguen en diversos di\u00e1metros (p\u00e1gina 314), pero la mayor\u00eda de sistemas de agua dom\u00e9sticos usan tuber\u00eda de \u00bd\" \u00f3 \u00be\". El tubo de cobre es fabricado en forma r\u00edgida y flexible.\n\nEl cobre r\u00edgido, a veces llamado cobre duro, es aprobado por todos los c\u00f3digos locales para sistemas de suministro dom\u00e9sticos, y se encuentra en tres grados seg\u00fan el grosor de su pared: tipos M, L y K. El tipo M es el m\u00e1s delgado, el menos costoso, y una buena elecci\u00f3n para el trabajo en plomer\u00eda dom\u00e9stica.\n\nEl tipo r\u00edgido L usualmente es requerido por norma para sistemas de plomer\u00eda comerciales. Gracias a que es fuerte y suelda f\u00e1cilmente, es preferido por algunos plomeros profesionales y bricolajeros para uso dom\u00e9stico. El tipo K tiene una pared m\u00e1s gruesa y es usado con mayor frecuencia para l\u00edneas de servicio de agua subterr\u00e1nea.\n\nEl cobre flexible, llamado cobre blando, se consigue en dos grados de grosor: tipos L y K. Ambos son aprobados para la mayor\u00eda de sistemas de agua dom\u00e9sticos, aunque el tipo L se usa principalmente para l\u00edneas de gas. Gracias a que es flexible y resiste escarcha moderada, se instala como parte del sistema de suministro de agua en \u00e1reas no calentadas en la casa. El tipo K se usa para l\u00edneas de agua subterr\u00e1nea.\n\nUna tercera forma de cobre, llamada DWV, se usa para sistemas de desag\u00fce. Debido a que actualmente la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos permiten tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica de bajo costo en sistemas de desag\u00fce, el cobre DWV rara vez es empleado.\n\nLos tubos de cobre son conectados con uniones soldadas, de compresi\u00f3n o abocinadas (ver tabla abajo). Siga siempre el c\u00f3digo local para usar los tipos correctos de tubos y uniones permitidos en su \u00e1rea.\n\n**Las uniones soldadas** a menudo son usadas para pegar tubos de cobre. Las uniones bien soldadas (p\u00e1ginas 278 a ) son fuertes y libres de problemas. La tuber\u00eda de cobre tambi\u00e9n es conectada con uniones de compresi\u00f3n (p\u00e1ginas 312 y ) o uniones abocinadas (p\u00e1gina 317). Vea la tabla siguiente.\n  **Tabla de tubos y uniones de cobre**\n\n**La informaci\u00f3n estampada** incluye el di\u00e1metro del tubo, el grosor de la pared, y un sello de aprobaci\u00f3n de la ASTM (American Society for Testing and Materials). El tubo tipo M es identificado por letras rojas, y el tipo L por letras azules.\n\n**Doble el tubo** de cobre flexible con una dobladora de tubos para evitar retorcimientos. Escoja una dobladora que se ajuste al di\u00e1metro externo del tubo. Desl\u00edcela sobre el tubo con un movimiento de torsi\u00f3n; doble el tubo lentamente hasta que tenga el \u00e1ngulo correcto, pero no m\u00e1s de 90\u00b0.\n\n**Herramientas y materiales** para trabajar con cobre incluyen: herramientas de abocinamiento (A), tela de esmeril (B), dobladora de tubos con resorte espiral (C), compuesto para unir tuber\u00eda (D), pasta de soldar (fundente) (E), soldadura sin plomo (F), cepillo de alambre (G), cepillo para fundente (H), uni\u00f3n de compresi\u00f3n (I), uni\u00f3n abocinada (J).\n\n**Halle la longitud del tubo requerida midiendo** entre los extremos de los casquillos de cobre (uniones mostradas en corte). Marque la longitud en el tubo con un rotulador.\n\n####   **Cortar y soldar cobre**\n\nEl cortador de tubos es el ideal para seccionar tuber\u00eda de cobre r\u00edgida y flexible; hace un corte liso y derecho, un primer paso importante para obtener una uni\u00f3n herm\u00e9tica. Remueva las rebabas en los bordes cortados con una herramienta escariadora o una lima redonda.\n\nEl cobre puede ser cortado con una sierra para metales, que es \u00fatil en \u00e1reas estrechas donde un cortador de tubos no encaja. Tenga cuidado de hacer un corte liso y derecho al usar la sierra.\n\nLa juntura soldada es hecha calentando una uni\u00f3n de cobre o lat\u00f3n con una antorcha de propano hasta que est\u00e9 lo suficientemente caliente para fundir soldadura met\u00e1lica. El calor funde la soldadura en el espacio entre la uni\u00f3n y el tubo para formar un sello herm\u00e9tico. Una uni\u00f3n recalentada o calentada irregularmente no atrae soldadura. Los tubos y uniones de cobre deben estar limpios y secos para formar un sello herm\u00e9tico.\n\n**Proteja la madera del calor de la llama de la antorcha,** usando una capa doble (dos piezas de 18\" \u00d7 18\") de metal laminado calibre 26. Compre el metal laminado en ferreter\u00edas y tiendas de productos de construcci\u00f3n, y cons\u00e9rvelo para usar en todos los trabajos de soldadura.\n  **Consejos para soldar**\n\n**Tenga precauci\u00f3n al soldar cobre;** los tubos y uniones se calientan mucho y deben dejarse enfriar antes de cogerlos.\n\n**Evite accidentes cerrando** la antorcha de propano justo despu\u00e9s de usarla; aseg\u00farese que la v\u00e1lvula quede completamente cerrada.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo cortar tubo de cobre r\u00edgido y flexible**\n\n**Ponga el cortador sobre el tubo** y apriete la manija de tal forma que el tubo descanse sobre ambos rodillos, y la rueda cortante est\u00e9 en la l\u00ednea marcada.\n\n**Haga un giro en el cortador** para que la rueda cortante trace una l\u00ednea recta continua alrededor del tubo.\n\n**Gire el cortador en la direcci\u00f3n contraria,** apretando la manija ligeramente despu\u00e9s de cada dos rotaciones, hasta que el corte est\u00e9 completo.\n\n**Remueva las rebabas met\u00e1licas del borde interno** del tubo cortado, usando la punta de escariado del cortador, o tambi\u00e9n una lima redonda.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo soldar uniones y tubos de cobre**\n\n**Limpie el extremo** de cada tubo lijando con tela de esmeril. Los extremos deben estar libres de polvo y grasa para asegurar que la soldadura forme un buen sello.\n\n**Limpie el interior de cada uni\u00f3n** estregando con un cepillo de alambre o tela de esmeril.\n\n**Aplique una capa** delgada de pasta para soldar (fundente) en el extremo de cada tubo, usando un cepillo para fundente; la pasta debe cubrir 1\" del extremo del tubo.\n\n**Aplique una capa** delgada de fundente en el interior de la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Ensamble cada juntura** introduciendo el tubo en la uni\u00f3n de tal forma que quede bien ajustado contra los casquillos. Gire cada uni\u00f3n ligeramente para esparcir la pasta.\n\n**Use una tela seca limpia para** remover el exceso de fundente antes de soldar la uni\u00f3n ensamblada.\n\n**Prepare el alambre** de soldadura desenrollando de 8\" a 10\" de alambre del carrete; doble las primeras 2\" en un \u00e1ngulo de 90\u00b0.\n\n**Abra la v\u00e1lvula de gas** y oprima el encendedor de chispa para poder prender la antorcha de esa forma.\n\n**Ajuste la v\u00e1lvula de la antorcha** hasta que la porci\u00f3n interior de la llama tenga 1\" a 2\" de largo.\n\n**Mueva la llama de la antorcha** de un lado a otro y alrededor del tubo y la uni\u00f3n para calentar el \u00e1rea de manera uniforme.\n\n**Caliente el otro lado de la uni\u00f3n** de cobre para asegurar que el calor est\u00e9 distribuido uniformemente. Ponga soldadura en el tubo; ella se fundir\u00e1 cuando el tubo est\u00e9 en la temperatura correcta.\n\n**Cuando la soldadura se funda,** quite la antorcha y r\u00e1pidamente ponga \u00bd\" a \u00be\" de soldadura en cada empalme. La acci\u00f3n capilar llena la juntura con soldadura l\u00edquida. Una juntura bien soldada debe mostrar una capa delgada de soldadura en los bordes de la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Deje enfriar la juntura** , y luego limpie el exceso de soldadura con un trapo seco. _Advertencia: los tubos estar\u00e1n calientes. Si las junturas gotean despu\u00e9s de abrir el flujo de agua, desarme y vuelva a soldar._\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo soldar v\u00e1lvulas de lat\u00f3n**\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas deben** estar completamente abiertas durante todas las etapas de la soldadura.\n\n**Para evitar da\u00f1o en la v\u00e1lvula,** caliente r\u00e1pidamente el tubo y los extremos de la v\u00e1lvula, no el cuerpo de la misma. Despu\u00e9s de soldar, enfr\u00edela roci\u00e1ndole agua.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo desarmar junturas soldadas**\n\n**Corte el agua y drene los tubos abriendo** los grifos m\u00e1s altos y bajos de la casa. Prenda la antorcha; ponga la punta de la llama en la uni\u00f3n hasta que la soldadura se torne brillante y empiece a fundirse.\n\n**Use alicates tipo canal** para separar los tubos de la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Remueva la soldadura** vieja calentando los extremos del tubo con la antorcha. Use un trapo seco para limpiar r\u00e1pidamente soldadura fundida. _Advertencia: los tubos estar\u00e1n calientes._\n\n**Use tela de esmeril** para lijar los extremos del tubo. Nunca vuelva a usar las uniones.\n\n###   **Tubo pl\u00e1stico r\u00edgido**\n\nSeccione tubos pl\u00e1sticos ABS, PVC o CPVC con un cortador de tubos o con cualquier sierra; los cortes deben ser derechos para asegurar junturas herm\u00e9ticas.\n\nLos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos son pegados con uniones pl\u00e1sticas y cola solvente. Use cola hecha para el tipo de tubo pl\u00e1stico que est\u00e1 instalando; por ejemplo, no utilice solvente para ABS en tubos de PVC. Algunas colas, llamadas solventes \"multiuso\" o \"universales\", pueden emplearse en toda clase de tubo pl\u00e1stico.\n\nLa cola solvente se endurece en 30 segundos, as\u00ed que pruebe todos los tubos y uniones antes de pegar la primera juntura. Para lograr los mejores resultados, las superficies de los tubos y uniones deben ser deslustradas con tela de esmeril y cebador l\u00edquido (primer) antes de ser empalmadas.\n\nLas colas y cebadores l\u00edquidos son t\u00f3xicos e inflamables. Tenga ventilaci\u00f3n adecuada al unir pl\u00e1sticos, y guarde los productos lejos de cualquier fuente de calor.\n\nLas uniones de agarre son usadas para unir tubos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos y flexibles a tubos de plomer\u00eda de cobre (p\u00e1gina 274).\n\n**La soldadura solvente** es un proceso de uni\u00f3n qu\u00edmica usado para pegar permanentemente tubos y uniones de PVC.\n\n**El primer (cebador)** y la cola solvente son espec\u00edficos para el material de plomer\u00eda usado. No utilice productos multiuso o multiprop\u00f3sito. Las colas de grado medio son apropiadas para bricolajeros porque permiten el mayor tiempo de trabajo y son las m\u00e1s f\u00e1ciles de usar. Los productos funcionan mejor cuando est\u00e1n frescos, as\u00ed que compre recipientes peque\u00f1os y bote cualquier producto inutilizado despu\u00e9s de unos meses.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo cortar tubo pl\u00e1stico r\u00edgido**\n\n**Halle la longitud de tubo pl\u00e1stico necesitada** midiendo entre los extremos de los casquillos (las uniones mostradas en corte). Marque la longitud en el tubo con un rotulador.\n\n**Los cortadores de tubo pl\u00e1stico** hacen un corte r\u00e1pido y limpio. Probablemente deber\u00e1 ir a una tienda de suministros de plomer\u00eda profesional para encontrar uno; no son intercambiables con cortadores de tubo met\u00e1lico.\n\n**La mejor herramienta de corte** para tubo pl\u00e1stico es una sierra de ingletar el\u00e9ctrica con una hoja de ebanister\u00eda de diente fino o una hoja espec\u00edfica para cortar el pl\u00e1stico.\n\n**Un cortador de tubo pl\u00e1stico** de trinquete corta r\u00e1pidamente tubos de PVC y CPVC de menor di\u00e1metro. Deber\u00eda adquirir uno si va a trabajar en la plomer\u00eda de toda la casa. Tambi\u00e9n son vendidos s\u00f3lo en tiendas de suministros de plomer\u00eda.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo pegar tubo pl\u00e1stico con cola solvente**\n\n**Remueva las rebabas** en los extremos cortados del tubo pl\u00e1stico con un cortador de cajas.\n\n**Pruebe todos los tubos y uniones;** los tubos deben quedar bien ajustados en los casquillos de la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Marque la profundidad de los casquillos en los tubos.** Desarme los tubos y limpie los extremos de los mismos y los casquillos de la uni\u00f3n con tela de esmeril.\n\n**Aplique una capa delgada de primer** para tubo pl\u00e1stico en los extremos de los tubos y en el interior de los casquillos. El primer deslustra superficies lustrosas y asegura un buen sello.\n\n**Pegue cada juntura** aplicando una capa gruesa de cola solvente en el extremo del tubo y aplicando una capa delgada en la superficie interior del casquillo de la uni\u00f3n. Trabaje r\u00e1pidamente, pues la cola se endurece en 30 segundos.\n\n**Coloque r\u00e1pidamente el tubo** y la uni\u00f3n de tal forma que las marcas de alineaci\u00f3n est\u00e9n corridas cerca de 2\". Fuerce el tubo en la uni\u00f3n hasta que el extremo quede a ras del borde del casquillo.\n\n**Esparza el solvente** girando el tubo hasta que las marcas queden alineadas. Sostenga el tubo en su sitio unos 20 segundos para evitar que la juntura se deslice.\n\n**Limpie el exceso de cola solvente con un trapo,** y deje quieta la juntura por 30 minutos despu\u00e9s de pegarla.\n\n###   **Tubo pl\u00e1stico flexible externo**\n\nEl tubo flexible de PE (polietileno) es usado para l\u00edneas de agua fr\u00eda subterr\u00e1neas. El tubo PE es muy econ\u00f3mico y com\u00fanmente se utiliza en sistemas de rociado de c\u00e9sped autom\u00e1tico y para extender el suministro de agua fr\u00eda a fregaderos de servicio en garajes y cobertizos separados.\n\nA diferencia de otros pl\u00e1sticos, el PE no es pegado con cola solvente, sino usando uniones de PVC r\u00edgidas \"dentadas\" y abrazaderas de manguera de acero inoxidable. En climas fr\u00edos, las l\u00edneas de plomer\u00eda externas deben ser cerradas y desaguadas en invierno.\n\n**Conecte tubos PE** con una uni\u00f3n de PVC dentada; asegure la conexi\u00f3n con abrazaderas de manguera de acero inoxidable.\n\n**Conecte el tubo PE en una tuber\u00eda de agua** fr\u00eda empalmando una T en el tubo de cobre y poniendo una v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n con desag\u00fce y un adaptador hembra. Enrosque un adaptador macho de PVC dentado en la uni\u00f3n de cobre, luego conecte el tubo PE. La v\u00e1lvula de desag\u00fce le permite dejar la l\u00ednea PE sin agua al preparar el sistema para el invierno.\n\n###   **C\u00f3mo cortar y unir tubo pl\u00e1stico flexible externo**\n\n**Corte el tubo PE flexible** con un cortador de tubos pl\u00e1sticos, o use una caja de ingletes o un cuchillo afilado. Remueva las rebabas con un cortador de cajas.\n\n**Ponga abrazaderas de manguera** de acero inoxidable en los extremos de los tubos flexibles a unir.\n\n**Opci\u00f3n:** para asegurar un mayor ajuste, aplique ligeramente compuesto para uniones sobre los extremos dentados de la T para que sea m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil deslizar el tubo pl\u00e1stico. Ponga los extremos de tubo PE sobre las porciones dentadas de la uni\u00f3n y con\u00e9ctelos.\n\n**Deslice las abrazaderas** de banda sobre los extremos de la juntura, y apri\u00e9telas con un destornillador o llave inglesa.\n\n###   **Polietileno reticulado (PEX)**\n\nEl polietileno reticulado (PEX) est\u00e1 siendo cada vez m\u00e1s aceptado como tubo de suministro para plomer\u00eda residencial, y no es dif\u00edcil entender por qu\u00e9. Desarrollado en la d\u00e9cada de 1960, pero relativamente nuevo en los Estados Unidos, combina la facilidad de uso de la tuber\u00eda flexible, con la durabilidad del tubo r\u00edgido. Resiste un amplio rango de temperaturas (desde congelaci\u00f3n hasta 180\u00b0 F); es econ\u00f3mico y m\u00e1s silencioso que el tubo r\u00edgido.\n\nEl PEX es tubo pl\u00e1stico flexible (polietileno, o PE) reforzado por una reacci\u00f3n qu\u00edmica que crea fibras largas para aumentar la resistencia del material. Ha sido aprobado en Europa y el Sur de los Estados Unidos durante muchos a\u00f1os, pero s\u00f3lo recientemente recibi\u00f3 la aprobaci\u00f3n para uso residencial en la mayor\u00eda de c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda. Frecuentemente es usado en casas prefabricadas y veh\u00edculos de recreaci\u00f3n, adem\u00e1s de sistemas de calefacci\u00f3n radiante. Gracias a que es tan flexible, el PEX es doblado f\u00e1cilmente para encajar en rincones y hacer otros cambios de direcci\u00f3n. Desde la tuber\u00eda maestra y el calentador, es conectado a m\u00faltiples uniones que redistribuyen el agua en forma similar a un sistema de riego del c\u00e9sped.\n\nEn instalaciones residenciales est\u00e1ndar, el PEX es conectado con juntas y herramientas muy sencillas. Generalmente las uniones son hechas con una herramienta dobladora y un anillo de presi\u00f3n. Simplemente introduzca los extremos del tubo en el anillo, luego apriete el anillo con la dobladora. Tubos, herramientas y uniones PEX se consiguen en distribuidores mayoristas de plomer\u00eda y en muchos centros del hogar. Los rollos de PEX son vendidos en diversos di\u00e1metros que van de \u00bc\" a 1\". Los tubos y uniones PEX de diferentes fabricantes no son intercambiables; cualquier garant\u00eda ser\u00e1 anulada si los productos son mezclados.\n\n**El PEX es** un material para suministro de agua relativamente nuevo que cada vez se hace m\u00e1s popular, en parte porque puede ser instalado con conexiones mec\u00e1nicas sencillas.\n\n####   **Herramientas y materiales para PEX**\n\n**Herramientas especializadas** para instalar PEX se consiguen donde venden este material. El juego b\u00e1sico incluye una herramienta dobladora de c\u00edrculo completo (A), cortador de tubos (B) y calibrador pasa-no pasa (C) para probar las conexiones despu\u00e9s de ser dobladas.\n\n**El PEX es conectado a otros materiales** de suministro de agua con uniones de transici\u00f3n que incluyen CPVC a PEX (A), cobre a PEX (B), y hierro a PEX (C).\n\n**Generalmente deber\u00eda usar** el di\u00e1metro especificado para tuber\u00eda de suministro r\u00edgida, pero en algunas instalaciones \"home run\" (ver p\u00e1gina siguiente) puede usar PEX de 3\/8\" PEX donde normalmente se emplear\u00eda cobre r\u00edgido de \u00bd\".\n\n####   **Instalaci\u00f3n de PEX**\n\nVerifique con el inspector de plomer\u00eda local si el PEX es permitido en su municipio. El PEX ha sido aprobado por los principales c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda en Norteam\u00e9rica, pero es probable que su municipio todav\u00eda est\u00e9 usando c\u00f3digos m\u00e1s antiguos. Siga las pautas mostradas a continuaci\u00f3n cuando vaya a instalar PEX:\n\n\u2022 No instale PEX en aplicaciones exteriores sobre la superficie porque se degrada r\u00e1pidamente al ser expuesto a los rayos UV.\n\n\u2022 No use PEX en l\u00edneas de gas.\n\n\u2022 No use PEX con solventes pl\u00e1sticos o productos a base de petr\u00f3leo (pueden disolver el pl\u00e1stico).\n\n\u2022 Mantenga el PEX al menos a 12\" de instalaciones de luz empotradas y otras fuentes potenciales de mucho calor.\n\n\u2022 No conecte PEX directamente en un calentador de agua. Haga las conexiones en el calentador con tuber\u00eda met\u00e1lica (tubo conector flexible para calentador de agua, o cobre r\u00edgido) de por lo menos 18\" de largo; luego conecte a PEX con una uni\u00f3n de transici\u00f3n.\n\n\u2022 No instale PEX en \u00e1reas donde puede haber da\u00f1o mec\u00e1nico o perforaciones. Ponga siempre placas protectoras en los montantes que contienen PEX.\n\n\u2022 Siempre deje una holgura en las l\u00edneas PEX instaladas para la contracci\u00f3n y en caso que necesite cortar un segmento averiado.\n\n\u2022 Para PEX use las mismas dimensiones m\u00ednimas de ramales y tubos de distribuci\u00f3n que usar\u00eda para cobre o CPVC, de acuerdo a los c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda locales.\n\n**No conecte PEX directamente en el calentador de agua.** Use tubos conectores met\u00e1licos, sold\u00e1ndolos en el calentador antes de poner PEX. Nunca suelde tuber\u00eda met\u00e1lica que ya est\u00e9 conectada a l\u00edneas PEX.\n\n**Ate la tuber\u00eda PEX con amarres de pl\u00e1stico** al extenderla a trav\u00e9s de cavidades de la pared. El PEX se contrae ligeramente, as\u00ed que deje cierta holgura en las l\u00edneas.\n\n####   **Compra de PEX**\n\n**La codificaci\u00f3n** por colores ha sido adoptada por muchos fabricantes de PEX para hacer m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil la identificaci\u00f3n. Debido a que el material es id\u00e9ntico salvo por el color, puede comprar s\u00f3lo un color (el rojo es m\u00e1s com\u00fan) y usarlo para l\u00edneas de agua caliente y fr\u00eda.\n\n**El PEX combina** la flexibilidad del tubo pl\u00e1stico con la durabilidad del tubo r\u00edgido; es vendido en rollos de di\u00e1metros de tuber\u00eda de suministro comunes.\n  **Las ventajas del PEX**\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de suministro PEX brinda varias ventajas sobre el tubo r\u00edgido tradicional:\n\n\u2022 F\u00e1cil de instalar. No requiere juntas de acoplamiento para tramos largos o codos y curvas para cambios de direcci\u00f3n. Las conexiones mec\u00e1nicas no necesitan solventes ni soldadura.\n\n\u2022 F\u00e1cil de transportar. Los rollos grandes son livianos y f\u00e1ciles de mover de un lado a otro que tubos de 10 pies.\n\n\u2022 Buen aislamiento. El PEX tiene mejores propiedades t\u00e9rmicas que el cobre para menor p\u00e9rdida de calor.\n\n\u2022 Silencioso. El PEX no traquetea por aire atrapado o energ\u00eda cin\u00e9tica.\n\n\u2022 Bueno para trabajos adicionales. Es m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil meterlo a trav\u00e9s de las paredes que la tuber\u00eda r\u00edgida y es compatible con sistemas de cobre, PVC o hierro si se usan las uniones de transici\u00f3n apropiadas. Si los tubos de suministro met\u00e1licos son utilizados para conectar a tierra el sistema el\u00e9ctrico, debe poner un cable de conexi\u00f3n si el PEX es instalado a medio camino. Verifique con un plomero o electricista.\n\n\u2022 Resistencia a la congelaci\u00f3n. El PEX conserva flexibilidad en condiciones de muy baja temperatura y tiene menos probabilidad de da\u00f1o que la tuber\u00eda r\u00edgida, pero no es a prueba de congelamiento.\n  **C\u00f3digos generales para PEX**\n\nEl PEX ha sido aprobado para uso residencial por los c\u00f3digos de construcci\u00f3n, aunque algunos c\u00f3digos municipales pueden ser restrictivos. Los patrones de dise\u00f1o espec\u00edficos tambi\u00e9n var\u00edan, pero estas son algunas normas generales:\n\n\u2022 Para PEX, el m\u00e1ximo espaciamiento de apoyo horizontal es 32\" y el m\u00e1ximo vertical es 10 pies.\n\n\u2022 La m\u00e1xima longitud de l\u00edneas de distribuci\u00f3n individual es 60 pies.\n\n\u2022 El PEX est\u00e1 dise\u00f1ado para resistir agua a 210\u00b0 F hasta 48 horas; para uso continuo, la mayor\u00eda de PEX resiste agua a 180\u00b0 F hasta 100 libras por pulgada2 de presi\u00f3n.\n\n\u2022 Los cambios de direcci\u00f3n de m\u00e1s de 90 grados requieren una uni\u00f3n especializada (ver p\u00e1gina 307).\n\n####   **Dise\u00f1os de sistemas**\n\n**Los sistemas de troncal y ramales** son configurados de forma similar a los sistemas tradicionales de cobre r\u00edgido o PVC. Una l\u00ednea de suministro principal (l\u00ednea troncal) lleva agua a todas las salidas por medio de ramales m\u00e1s peque\u00f1os que se unen a la troncal y sirven a algunas salidas en una localizaci\u00f3n com\u00fan.\n\n**Los sistemas \"home run\"** dependen de uno o dos tubos m\u00faltiples centrales para distribuir eficientemente el agua caliente y fr\u00eda. Eliminar las uniones de ramales permite usar tubos m\u00e1s delgados en algunas situaciones.\n\n**Los sistemas de tubos m\u00faltiples** apartados son un h\u00edbrido entre los sistemas de troncal y ramales y home run. En lugar de depender s\u00f3lo de uno o dos tubos m\u00faltiples se emplean varios peque\u00f1os l\u00ednea abajo desde un m\u00faltiple m\u00e1s grande. Cada tubo peque\u00f1o sirve a un grupo de instalaciones, como en un ba\u00f1o o cocina.\n  **Elecci\u00f3n de un sistema PEX**\n\n\u2022 Para m\u00e1xima presi\u00f3n de agua en una instalaci\u00f3n: troncal y ramales.\n\n\u2022 Para econom\u00eda de materiales: troncal y ramales o tubos m\u00faltiples apartados.\n\n\u2022 Para m\u00ednimos tiempos de espera de agua caliente (instalaci\u00f3n individual): \"home run\".\n\n\u2022 Para m\u00ednimos tiempos de espera de agua caliente (m\u00faltiples instalaciones usadas al mismo tiempo): troncal y ramales o m\u00faltiples apartados.\n\n\u2022 Para facilidad de control de v\u00e1lvulas: \"home run\".\n\n\u2022 Para instalar el menor n\u00famero de uniones y junturas: \"home run\".\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo hacer conexiones PEX**\n\n**Corte el tubo,** asegur\u00e1ndose de dejar suficiente material adicional para que la l\u00ednea tenga una peque\u00f1a holgura una vez que las conexiones sean hechas. Un corte limpio y derecho es muy importante. Para mejores resultados, use un cortador de tubos.\n\n**Examine el extremo** cortado para asegurarse que est\u00e9 limpio y liso; si es necesario, desb\u00e1rbelo con una navaja. Deslice un anillo de presi\u00f3n sobre el tubo.\n\n**Introduzca el extremo** dentado de la uni\u00f3n en el tubo hasta ajustarlo contra el borde cortado. Coloque el anillo de presi\u00f3n dejando un espacio de 1\/8\" a \u00bc\" del extremo del tubo, abarcando el ap\u00e9ndice dentado de la uni\u00f3n. Presione la uni\u00f3n para acoplarla.\n\n**Alinee las quijadas** de una dobladora de c\u00edrculo completo sobre el anillo de presi\u00f3n y apriete las manijas para aplicar una presi\u00f3n firme y fuerte en el anillo.\n\n**Pruebe la conexi\u00f3n** para asegurarse que es mec\u00e1nicamente aceptable, usando un calibrador pasa-no pasa. Si el anillo no encaja bien en el calibrador, corte el tubo cerca de la conexi\u00f3n e int\u00e9ntelo de nuevo.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar un sistema de suministro de agua con PEX**\n\n**Instale tubos m\u00faltiples** de cobre (uno para agua caliente y otro para agua fr\u00eda) en un sitio accesible y central para las instalaciones. El m\u00faltiple debe tener una salida para cada l\u00ednea de suministro (las instalaciones que requieren agua caliente y fr\u00eda necesitan una salida aparte para cada una). Extienda las l\u00edneas de suministro desde el calentador de agua y la tuber\u00eda maestra hasta los m\u00faltiples de cobre. Conecte los tubos en los m\u00faltiples con conectores de presi\u00f3n.\n\n**El tubo m\u00faltiple puede instalarse** horizontal o verticalmente, pero debe ser sujetado con soportes del tama\u00f1o apropiado atornillados en el armaz\u00f3n.\n\n**Comenzando en cada instalaci\u00f3n (y dejando al menos** 12\" de tubo adicional expuesto), extienda PEX del tama\u00f1o apropiado a trav\u00e9s de agujeros en el armaz\u00f3n hasta los m\u00faltiples. Los tubos pueden ser unidos con amarres de pl\u00e1stico. Proteja la tuber\u00eda con una placa en cada montante, y aseg\u00farese de dejar una holgura en las l\u00edneas de suministro.\n\n**Sujete el tubo con un soporte pl\u00e1stico** cerca de cada piso o techo y a medio camino en las l\u00edneas verticales. Tambi\u00e9n use soportes para guiar la tuber\u00eda cerca del inicio y la terminaci\u00f3n de curvas y cerca de uniones. Utilice una gu\u00eda pl\u00e1stica para curvas pronunciadas (recuadro). No doble el PEX hasta el punto que se retuerza.\n\n**Corte cada ramal de suministro (deje tubo de m\u00e1s por si necesita).** Instale v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n para cada salida (la mayor\u00eda de m\u00faltiples vienen con v\u00e1lvulas incorporadas). Conecte los ramales de suministro PEX en las v\u00e1lvulas, y rotule cada l\u00ednea. Use un trozo corto de PEX y un tap\u00f3n para sellar salidas inutilizadas (anexo).\n\n###   **Hierro galvanizado**\n\nLa tuber\u00eda de hierro galvanizado suele encontrarse en casas antiguas, donde se usa para suministro de agua y peque\u00f1as l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce. Puede identificarse por la capa de zinc que le da un color plateado y por las uniones roscadas empleadas para conectar los tubos.\n\nLos tubos y uniones de hierro galvanizado se corroen con el tiempo y finalmente deben ser reemplazados. La presi\u00f3n baja del agua puede indicar que el interior de la tuber\u00eda tiene una acumulaci\u00f3n de herrumbre; la obstrucci\u00f3n suele presentarse en codos. Nunca intente limpiar el interior de los tubos de hierro galvanizado; m\u00e1s bien remu\u00e9valos y reempl\u00e1celos lo m\u00e1s pronto posible.\n\nLos tubos y uniones de hierro galvanizado se consiguen en ferreter\u00edas y centros del hogar. Especifique siempre el di\u00e1metro interno (I. D.) al comprarlos. Los tubos preroscados, llamados niples, se consiguen en longitudes de 1\" a 1 pie; si necesita uno m\u00e1s largo, pida en el lugar de compra que corten y adecuen el tubo requerido.\n\nEl hierro galvanizado viejo es dif\u00edcil de reparar. Las uniones a menudo se oxidan, y lo que parece un trabajo trivial se convierte en un proyecto grande. Por ejemplo, cortar una secci\u00f3n de tubo para reemplazar una uni\u00f3n defectuosa, puede revelar que los tubos adyacentes tambi\u00e9n necesitan repuesto. Si su trabajo toma un tiempo inesperado, puede tapar las l\u00edneas abiertas y restablecer el agua en el resto de la casa. Antes de empezar a reparar, tenga a la mano niples y tapas que encajen en los tubos.\n\nDesarmar un sistema de tubos y uniones de hierro galvanizado toma bastante tiempo. El trabajo debe comenzar en el extremo de una tuber\u00eda, y es necesario desenroscar cada pieza antes de remover la siguiente. Es un trabajo largo y tedioso llegar a la parte media de una tuber\u00eda para reemplazar una secci\u00f3n. M\u00e1s bien utilice un accesorio de tres piezas llamado acoplamiento, que hace posible remover una secci\u00f3n de tubo o una uni\u00f3n sin tener que desarmar todo el sistema.\n\n_Nota: el hierro galvanizado a veces es confundido con el \"hierro negro\". Ambos tipos tienen tama\u00f1os y uniones similares, pero el hierro negro es usado s\u00f3lo en l\u00edneas de gas._\n\n**El hierro galvanizado** era instalado en las casas para tubos de gas y agua hasta mediados del siglo pasado. Aunque actualmente no se usa para instalaciones nuevas, todav\u00eda es reparado f\u00e1cilmente con herramientas y t\u00e9cnicas sencillas.\n\n**Mida el tubo viejo.** Incluya \u00bd\" en cada extremo para la porci\u00f3n roscada del tubo dentro de la uni\u00f3n, y lleve la medida al lugar de compra cuando adquiera las partes de repuesto.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo remover y reemplazar tuber\u00eda de hierro galvanizado**\n\n**Corte el tubo de hierro galvanizado** con la sierra alternativa y una hoja para cortar metales, o con una sierra para metales.\n\n**Agarre la uni\u00f3n con una llave para tubos** y use otra llave para remover el tubo viejo; las quijadas de las llaves deben mirar en direcciones opuestas. Mueva siempre el mango de la llave hacia la abertura de la quijada.\n\n**Remueva las uniones corro\u00eddas** usando dos llaves para tubos. Con las quijadas mirando en direcciones opuestas, utilice una llave para girar la uni\u00f3n, y la otra para agarrar el tubo. Limpie la rosca del tubo con un cepillo de alambre.\n\n**Caliente las uniones** dif\u00edciles con una antorcha para que sea m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil removerlas; aplique la llama de 5 a 10 segundos. Proteja la madera y otros materiales inflamables con una capa doble de metal laminado.\n\n**Reemplace la secci\u00f3n de tubo de hierro galvanizado** con un acoplamiento y dos tubos roscados (niples). Ya armados, el acoplamiento y los niples deben igualar la longitud del tubo que est\u00e1 siendo reemplazado.\n\n**Aplique compuesto para uniones** en los extremos roscados de todos los tubos y niples; esp\u00e1rzalo uniformemente sobre las roscas con la yema del dedo.\n\n**Enrosque las nuevas uniones en los tubos;** apri\u00e9telas con dos llaves inglesas, dej\u00e1ndolas desalineadas 1\/8 de giro para permitir el ensamble del acoplamiento.\n\n**Enrosque el primer niple** en la uni\u00f3n y apriete con una llave para tubos.\n\n**Deslice una tuerca** arillo en el niple instalado, luego enrosque la tuerca acampanada y despu\u00e9s apriete con una llave para tubos.\n\n**Enrosque el segundo niple** en la otra uni\u00f3n, y apriete con la llave para tubos.\n\n**Enrosque la tuerca del acoplamiento** en el segundo niple, y apriete con la llave. Alinee los tubos de modo que el borde de la tuerca acampanada encaje dentro de la tuerca roscada.\n\n**Complete la conexi\u00f3n** enroscando la tuerca arillo en la tuerca del acoplamiento, y apret\u00e1ndola con dos llaves para tubos.\n\n###   **Hierro colado**\n\nEl tubo de hierro colado es a menudo encontrado en las viviendas antiguas, donde se usa para tuber\u00eda DWV grande, especialmente el bajante principal y las l\u00edneas de alcantarillado. El tubo es identificado por su color oscuro, superficie \u00e1spera y gran tama\u00f1o. Los tubos de hierro colado en desag\u00fces dom\u00e9sticos usualmente tienen un di\u00e1metro de 3\" o m\u00e1s.\n\nEsta tuber\u00eda se oxida o las uniones acampanadas (abajo) pueden tener fugas. Si su casa tiene m\u00e1s de 30 a\u00f1os, tal vez sea necesario reemplazar un tubo o juntura de hierro colado.\n\nEl hierro colado es pesado y dif\u00edcil de cortar y ajustar. Por eso, la tuber\u00eda defectuosa usualmente es reemplazada con PVC del mismo di\u00e1metro, que es unido f\u00e1cilmente al hierro colado usando acoplamiento de cinta (abajo).\n\nLos cortadores de presi\u00f3n son la herramienta tradicional para cortar hierro colado (ver p\u00e1gina 307), pero las modernas sierras alternativas de velocidad variable hacen el trabajo f\u00e1cilmente y con seguridad. Use una hoja de cortar metales larga y fije la sierra en velocidad baja. Al cortar hierro colado use protecci\u00f3n para ojos y o\u00eddos.\n\n**La tuber\u00eda de hierro colado** era usada casi siempre en sistemas de desag\u00fce hasta la introducci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda PVC extrafuerte. Es dif\u00edcil trabajar con ella y en la mayor\u00eda de casos es mejor reemplazarla.\n\n**Las uniones acampanadas** (izquierda) eran usadas para conectar tubos de hierro colado. El tubo acampanado tiene un extremo recto y el otro abocinado; el extremo recto encaja dentro de la campana del siguiente tubo. Antiguamente, las junturas eran selladas con material de empaque (estopa) y plomo. Repare juntas defectuosas cortando toda la uni\u00f3n acampanada y reempl\u00e1cela con tubo pl\u00e1stico.\n\n**Los acoplamientos de cinta** son usados para reemplazar hierro colado defectuoso con un tubo pl\u00e1stico PVC o ABS. El nuevo tubo es conectado al tubo de hierro colado restante con un acoplamiento de cinta, el cual tiene un manguito de neopreno que sella la juntura. Los tubos son asegurados con bandas de acero inoxidable y abrazaderas de tornillo.\n\n####   **Cortar tubo de hierro colado**\n\n**Antes de cortar una secci\u00f3n horizontal** de tubo de desag\u00fce de hierro colado, aseg\u00farese que est\u00e1 sostenido con cuelgatubos cada 5 pies y en cada juntura.\n\n**Antes de cortar una secci\u00f3n vertical** de tubo de hierro colado, aseg\u00farese que est\u00e9 apoyado con una abrazadera en cada piso. Nunca corte tuber\u00eda que no est\u00e9 sostenida.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo reemplazar una secci\u00f3n de tubo de hierro colado**\n\n**Use tiza para marcar l\u00edneas** de corte en el tubo. Si va a reemplazar una campana defectuosa, marque al menos 6\" en cada lado de la misma.\n\n**Sostenga la secci\u00f3n** inferior de la tuber\u00eda poniendo una abrazadera a ras de la placa inferior o el piso.\n\n**Sostenga la parte** superior de la tuber\u00eda con una abrazadera a 6\" de la secci\u00f3n de tubo que ser\u00e1 reemplazada. Pegue bloques de madera en los montantes con tornillos para cubierta de 2\u00bd\" de modo que la abrazadera se apoye sobre ellos.\n\n**Envuelva la cadena** del cortador de presi\u00f3n sobre el tubo. Las ruedas de corte deben quedar sobre la l\u00ednea hecha con tiza.\n\n**Apriete la cadena** y quiebre el tubo de acuerdo a las instrucciones del fabricante de la herramienta.\n\n**Repita el corte en la otra l\u00ednea,** y remueva la secci\u00f3n cortada del tubo.\n\n**Corte un tubo pl\u00e1stico PVC** \u00bd\" m\u00e1s corto que la secci\u00f3n cortada de hierro colado.\n\n**Deslice un acoplamiento** de banda y un manguito de neopreno en cada extremo del tubo de hierro colado.\n\n**Aseg\u00farese de que el tubo** quede ajustado contra el anillo separador de caucho en el interior del manguito.\n\n**Doble hacia atr\u00e1s el extremo** de cada manguito de neopreno, hasta que quede visible el anillo separador en el interior del manguito.\n\n**Coloque el nuevo tubo de pl\u00e1stico** de modo que quede alineado con los tubos de hierro colado.\n\n**Desdoble los extremos** de los manguitos de neopreno sobre los extremos del nuevo tubo de pl\u00e1stico.\n\n**Deslice bandas de acero inoxidable** y abrazaderas alrededor de los manguitos de neopreno.\n\n**Apriete las abrazaderas** de tornillo con una llave de trinquete o un destornillador.\n\n###   **Accesorios para tuber\u00eda**\n\nUse las fotos de estas p\u00e1ginas para identificar los accesorios de plomer\u00eda especificados en las instrucciones encontradas en este libro. Cada accesorio mostrado se consigue en diversos tama\u00f1os que se ajustan a necesidades particulares. Use siempre accesorios hechos del mismo material de la tuber\u00eda.\n\nExisten accesorios de una variedad de formas que sirven para las diferentes funciones en el sistema de plomer\u00eda. Los de DWV incluyen:\n\n**Respiraderos:** en general, los accesorios usados para conectar respiraderos tienen codos muy cerrados. Se incluyen la T de respiradero y el codo de 90\u00b0. Los accesorios de tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce est\u00e1ndar tambi\u00e9n son utilizados para unir respiraderos.\n\n**Desag\u00fces horizontales a verticales:** para cambiar la direcci\u00f3n en un tubo de desag\u00fce de horizontal a vertical, use uniones con una gran curvatura. Los accesorios est\u00e1ndar para esto incluyen uniones T y codos de 90\u00b0; tambi\u00e9n se usan uniones Y y codos de 45\u00b0 y 22\u00bd\u00b0.\n\n**Desag\u00fces verticales a horizontales:** para cambiar la direcci\u00f3n de vertical a horizontal, use uniones con curvatura muy pronunciada y gradual. Los accesorios comunes para este prop\u00f3sito incluyen la uni\u00f3n T-Y de gran radio y algunas uniones Y con codos de 45\u00b0.\n\n**Desplazamientos horizontales en desag\u00fces:** uniones Y, codos de 45\u00b0, codos de 22\u00bd\u00b0 y codos de gran curvatura de 90\u00b0 se utilizan al cambiar de direcci\u00f3n en tuber\u00eda horizontal. En lo posible, los tubos de desag\u00fce horizontales deben usar codos de curvatura gradual en lugar de curvas cerradas.\n\n**El \u00e1rbol DWV b\u00e1sico** muestra la orientaci\u00f3n correcta de los accesorios de desag\u00fce y respiraci\u00f3n en un sistema de plomer\u00eda. Los codos en los respiraderos pueden ser muy cerrados, pero los tubos de desag\u00fce deben usar uniones con una curva evidente. Las uniones para dirigir agua residual de un tubo vertical a uno horizontal, deben tener codos de m\u00e1s curvatura. El c\u00f3digo de plomer\u00eda local puede requerir que se instalen uniones de limpieza donde se encuentra la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce vertical con la tuber\u00eda horizontal.\n\n**Accesorios de tuber\u00eda de agua** se consiguen para cobre (arriba), pl\u00e1stico CPVC (centro) y PEX (abajo). Los de CPVC y cobre est\u00e1n disponibles en muchas formas, incluyendo: acoplamientos (A), reductores (B), codos de 90\u00b0 (C), codos reductores (D), codos de 45\u00b0 (E), uniones T (F), uniones T reductoras (G), codos con orejas (H), adaptadores roscados (I) y tapones (J). Los accesorios para PEX comunes (abajo) incluyen acoplamientos (K), acoplamientos PEX a cobre (L), codos de 90\u00b0 (M), uniones T (N), tapones (O), codos con orejas (P) y adaptadores roscados (Q).\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de suministro de agua** se consiguen en lat\u00f3n o pl\u00e1stico y en diversos estilos que incluyen: v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n con desag\u00fce (A), v\u00e1lvula de compuerta (B), v\u00e1lvulas de bola de paso total (C), v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n para la instalaci\u00f3n (D), rompevac\u00edo (E) y grifo para manguera (F).\n\n**Materiales de apoyo para la tuber\u00eda incluyen:** cuelgatubos pl\u00e1sticos (A), ganchos tipo-J de cobre (B), cables de suspensi\u00f3n de cobre (C), abrazadera de tubo vertical (D), cuelgatubos pl\u00e1sticos (E), cuelgatubos de cobre (F), cuelgatubos de cobre flexible, acero y pl\u00e1stico (G, H, I). No mezcle metales al sostener tubos met\u00e1licos; use materiales de apoyo de cobre para tuber\u00eda de cobre, y acero para tuber\u00eda de acero y hierro colado.\n\n**Los accesorios para tuber\u00eda DWV se consiguen en muchas configuraciones,** con aberturas que oscilan entre 1\u00bc\" y 4\" de di\u00e1metro. Al planificar su proyecto, compre suficientes accesorios de DWV y suministro de agua a un minorista de renombre con una buena pol\u00edtica de devoluci\u00f3n. Es mejor devolver materiales sobrantes despu\u00e9s de terminar el proyecto, que interrumpir el trabajo cada vez que necesite comprar un accesorio faltante.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo usar uniones de transici\u00f3n**\n\n**Conecte el pl\u00e1stico** al hierro colado con acoplamientos de cinta. Los manguitos de caucho cubren los extremos de los tubos y aseguran una juntura herm\u00e9tica.\n\n**Haga las transiciones** de tuber\u00eda DWV con acoplamientos de caucho. Los dos productos mostrados aqu\u00ed (uniones marca Mission, ver Recursos en la p\u00e1gina 330) se usan para conectar tubos de diferentes materiales, adem\u00e1s de los del mismo material que necesitan una transici\u00f3n.\n\n**Conecte el cobre a hierro galvanizado** con un acoplamiento diel\u00e9ctrico. \u00c9ste es enroscado en el tubo de hierro y soldado en el tubo de cobre; tiene un separador pl\u00e1stico que evita la corrosi\u00f3n causada por una reacci\u00f3n electroqu\u00edmica entre metales distintos.\n\n**Conecte el tubo** met\u00e1lico de agua caliente al pl\u00e1stico con una uni\u00f3n de transici\u00f3n para agua caliente que evite fugas causadas por diferentes grados de expansi\u00f3n de los materiales. La rosca del tubo met\u00e1lico se envuelve con cinta de tefl\u00f3n, y el tubo pl\u00e1stico es pegado a la uni\u00f3n con cola solvente.\n\n**Conecte la tuber\u00eda** de agua a cualquier tubo de suministro para instalaci\u00f3n, usando una v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n.\n\n**Conecte cualquier tubo del** suministro al ap\u00e9ndice de una instalaci\u00f3n por medio de una tuerca de acoplamiento. La tuerca comprime el extremo acampanado del tubo contra el ap\u00e9ndice.\n\n**Las uniones especializadas** se usan para suministrar agua a aparatos port\u00e1tiles como las m\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo y los dispensadores de agua caliente. La uni\u00f3n John-Guest Speed-Fit mostrada aqu\u00ed (ver Recursos, p\u00e1gina 330) est\u00e1 dise\u00f1ada para conectar a tuber\u00eda transparente o a la tuber\u00eda pl\u00e1stica patentada del fabricante.\n\n###   **V\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n**\n\nLas v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n o tubos de suministro muy gastados pueden causar fugas de agua debajo de un lavamanos u otra instalaci\u00f3n. Primero apriete las uniones con una llave inglesa; si esto no arregla la fuga, reemplace las v\u00e1lvulas y los tubos.\n\nLas v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n se consiguen en varios tipos de uniones. En tubos de cobre, las m\u00e1s f\u00e1ciles de instalar son las v\u00e1lvulas con uniones de compresi\u00f3n (p\u00e1ginas 212 y ). Para tubos pl\u00e1sticos use v\u00e1lvulas de sujeci\u00f3n y para hierro galvanizado emplee v\u00e1lvulas con rosca hembra.\n\nLos sistemas de plomer\u00eda antiguos sol\u00edan ser instalados sin v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n para las instalaciones. Al reparar o reemplazar instalaciones, deber\u00eda poner v\u00e1lvulas de control si no las hay.\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n** permiten cortar el agua en una instalaci\u00f3n individual de modo que pueda ser reparada. Son de lat\u00f3n cromado duradero o pl\u00e1stico liviano, y se consiguen en di\u00e1metros \u00bd\" \u00be\" de que encajan en los tubos de agua comunes.\n\n**Los tubos de suministro** se usan para conectar la tuber\u00eda de agua a grifos, retretes y otras instalaciones. Se consiguen en longitudes de 12\", 20\", y 30\". Los tubos de pl\u00e1stico PB y cobre cromado son econ\u00f3micos, y los de acero trenzado y malla de vinilo son f\u00e1ciles de instalar.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo instalar v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n y tubos de suministro**\n\n**Cierre el agua en la v\u00e1lvula** principal. Remueva los tubos de suministro viejos; si son de cobre soldado, c\u00f3rtelos debajo de la juntura soldada con una sierra de armero o un cortador de tubos. Los cortes deben ser derechos. Desenrosque las tuercas de acoplamiento y deseche los tubos viejos.\n\n**Deslice una tuerca** y un anillo de compresi\u00f3n sobre el tubo de cobre; la rosca de la tuerca debe apuntar hacia el extremo del tubo.\n\n**Aplique compuesto para** uniones en la rosca de la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n o la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n. Enrosque la tuerca en la v\u00e1lvula y apri\u00e9tela con la llave inglesa.\n\n**Doble el tubo de cobre cromado** para que se extienda desde el ap\u00e9ndice de la instalaci\u00f3n hasta la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n, utilizando una dobladora de tubos. Debe doblarlo poco a poco para evitar el retorcimiento del metal.\n\n**Coloque el tubo** de suministro entre el ap\u00e9ndice de la instalaci\u00f3n y la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n, y m\u00e1rquelo; luego c\u00f3rtelo con un cortador de tubos (p\u00e1gina 270).\n\n**Conecte el extremo** acampanado del tubo en el ap\u00e9ndice de la instalaci\u00f3n con una tuerca de acoplamiento, y luego una el extremo a la v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n con anillo y tuerca de compresi\u00f3n. Apriete todas las uniones con la llave inglesa.\n\n###   **V\u00e1lvulas y grifos para manguera**\n\nLas v\u00e1lvulas hacen posible cortar el agua en cualquier punto del sistema de suministro. Si un tubo se rompe o una instalaci\u00f3n empieza a gotear, hay que cortar el agua en el \u00e1rea da\u00f1ada para repararla. El grifo para manguera tiene el pico roscado y suele usarse para conectar accesorios de caucho o mangueras de aparatos.\n\nLas v\u00e1lvulas y grifos para manguera tienen fugas cuando las arandelas o sellos se desgastan. Las partes de repuesto se encuentran en los juegos universales de arandelas usados para reparar grifos de compresi\u00f3n. Cubra las arandelas de repuesto con grasa antit\u00e9rmica para mantenerlas blandas y evitar que se rompan.\n\nRecuerde, siempre debe cortar el agua antes de iniciar el trabajo.\n\n**Con la excepci\u00f3n** de las v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n cromadas que son puestas en instalaciones individuales (p\u00e1ginas anteriores), las v\u00e1lvulas y grifos para manguera son accesorios resistentes, usualmente de lat\u00f3n, que son instaladas en l\u00ednea para regular el flujo de agua. Las v\u00e1lvulas de compuerta y de globo son similares y usadas con una manija de rueda que gira. Las v\u00e1lvulas de bola tienen una manija muy parecida a la llave de paso de tuber\u00eda de gas, y son consideradas como las m\u00e1s seguras. Los grifos para manguera tienen un extremo roscado dise\u00f1ado para recibir el acoplamiento hembra de una manguera.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo arreglar un grifo defectuoso para manguera**\n\n**Quite el tornillo de la manija y remu\u00e9vala.** Desenrosque la tuerca de empaque con la llave inglesa.\n\n**Desenrosque el eje del cuerpo de la v\u00e1lvula.** Quite el tornillo del v\u00e1stago y reemplace la arandela del mismo; luego reemplace la arandela de empaque y arme la v\u00e1lvula.\n  **Tipos comunes de v\u00e1lvulas**\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de compuerta** tiene una \"compuerta\" de lat\u00f3n movible que se enrosca o desenrosca para controlar el flujo de agua. Estas v\u00e1lvulas pueden desarrollar fugas alrededor de la manija. Arregle el problema reemplazando la arandela o la fibra que se encuentra debajo de la tuerca de empaque.\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de** globo tiene una c\u00e1mara curvada. Repare las fugas alrededor de la manija reemplazando la arandela de empaque. Reemplace la arandela del v\u00e1stago si la v\u00e1lvula no detiene completamente el flujo de agua estando cerrada.\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n** controla el suministro de agua a una o m\u00e1s instalaciones. Tiene un eje pl\u00e1stico con una arandela de empaque y una arandela de presi\u00f3n en el v\u00e1stago. Repare las fugas alrededor de la manija reemplazando la arandela de empaque. Si la v\u00e1lvula cerrada no detiene completamente el flujo de agua, reemplace la arandela del v\u00e1stago. Se consiguen v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n con m\u00faltiples salidas para alimentar varias instalaciones desde un solo suministro.\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula de bola** tiene una esfera met\u00e1lica con una abertura (u orificio controlado) en el centro. La esfera es controlada por una manija; cuando \u00e9sta es girada, el orificio queda paralelo a la v\u00e1lvula (abierto) o perpendicular (cerrado).\n\n###   **Uniones de compresi\u00f3n**\n\nLas uniones de compresi\u00f3n son usadas para hacer conexiones que tal vez necesiten ser desarmadas. Son f\u00e1ciles de separar y se suelen emplear para instalar tubos de suministro y v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n en instalaciones. \u00daselas en lugares donde sea peligroso o dif\u00edcil soldar, tales como los espacios bajo piso.\n\nLas uniones de compresi\u00f3n se utilizan m\u00e1s a menudo con tuber\u00eda de cobre flexible, que es lo suficientemente blando para permitir que el anillo de compresi\u00f3n quede bien ajustado, creando un sello herm\u00e9tico. Tambi\u00e9n son usados para hacer conexiones con tubo de cobre r\u00edgido tipo M.\n\n**La uni\u00f3n de** compresi\u00f3n (en corte) muestra c\u00f3mo la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n roscada forma un sello forzando el anillo de compresi\u00f3n contra el tubo de cobre. El anillo de se cubre con compuesto para uniones antes del ensamble para tener un sello perfecto.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo conectar tubos de suministro en v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n con uniones de compresi\u00f3n**\n\n**Doble el tubo** de cobre y marque la longitud, incluyendo \u00bd\" para la porci\u00f3n que se ajustar\u00e1 dentro de la v\u00e1lvula. Corte el tubo.\n\n**Deslice la tuerca** de compresi\u00f3n y luego el anillo sobre el extremo del tubo; la rosca de la tuerca debe mirar hacia la v\u00e1lvula.\n\n**Aplique un poco** de compuesto para uniones en la rosca para lubricarla.\n\n**Introduzca el extremo** del tubo en la uni\u00f3n de modo que quede a ras del borde inferior del casquillo.\n\n**Deslice el anillo** y la tuerca de compresi\u00f3n sobre la rosca de la v\u00e1lvula, y apriete con la mano la tuerca.\n\n**Apriete la tuerca** de compresi\u00f3n con llaves inglesas, pero sin sobrepasarse. Abra el flujo de agua y revise si hay fugas. Si la uni\u00f3n gotea, apriete la tuerca suavemente.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo conectar dos tubos de cobre con un acoplamiento de compresi\u00f3n**\n\n**Deslice las tuercas** y anillos de compresi\u00f3n en los extremos de los tubos. Luego Instale un acoplamiento roscado entre los tubos.\n\n**Aplique una capa** de compuesto para uniones o ponga cinta de tefl\u00f3n en las roscas del acoplamiento, y luego enrosque las tuercas de compresi\u00f3n.\n\n**Agarre el centro** del acoplamiento con una llave inglesa, y use la otra llave para apretar cada tuerca de compresi\u00f3n un giro completo. Abra el flujo de agua. Si el acoplamiento gotea, apriete las tuercas suavemente un poco m\u00e1s.\n\n###   **Tubos y accesorios para gas**\n\nPocas combinaciones de palabras despiertan m\u00e1s temor en los abogados que cuando se trata de la \"responsabilidad\" de quienes hacen sus propias instalaciones y los trabajos con \"gas\". Hay una buena raz\u00f3n para esto, pues trabajar con tuber\u00eda de gas y hacer conexiones en ella genera un alto potencial de cat\u00e1strofe si se cometen errores. Por eso muchos municipios exigen que s\u00f3lo profesionales acreditados instalen o reparen l\u00edneas y aparatos de gas. Si su municipio es uno de ellos, acate la ley y mant\u00e9ngase al margen del trabajo con gas; simplemente no vale la pena el riesgo de hacerlo usted mismo.\n\nSi en su regi\u00f3n se permite que los due\u00f1os de casa trabajen en sus propios aparatos y l\u00edneas de gas, a\u00fan es aconsejable que piense bien si en realidad deber\u00eda llamar a un profesional. Si decide hacer el trabajo, siga las precauciones al pie de la letra y sea muy cuidadoso.\n\nT\u00e9cnicamente, trabajar con tuber\u00eda de gas no es tan diferente de trabajar con tuber\u00eda de agua o DWV. Para combustible dom\u00e9stico, el gas viene en dos formas: gas natural, que es distribuido por tuber\u00eda, y el gas licuado del petr\u00f3leo (GLP), que es contenido en un tanque o \"cilindro\" en la vivienda. Los aparatos no pueden usar estos gases de manera intercambiable, aunque se consiguen juegos de conversi\u00f3n. Aseg\u00farese que el aparato trabaje con el tipo de gas que tiene disponible.\n\n**El tubo de acero negro** (A) es el material tradicional para la l\u00ednea de gas y es admisible en todas partes. El tubo de acero inoxidable acanalado es revestido con PVC (B); gracias a que es flexible, se deben hacer menos conexiones y disminuye la posibilidad de fugas, pero algunas regiones no permiten esta tuber\u00eda. El tubo flexible (C) suele usarse para conectar aparatos a l\u00edneas de suministro. El cobre blando (D) puede ser usado para gas en algunas regiones, pero no es permitido en otras jurisdicciones.\n\n####   **Partes de un sistema de distribuci\u00f3n de gas**\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas y uniones** para gas son parecidas a las usadas para agua, pero se deben usar s\u00f3lo en instalaciones de gas. Las v\u00e1lvulas de un cuarto de giro se consiguen con conexiones roscadas abocinadas. Las uniones est\u00e1n disponibles en muchos tama\u00f1os medidos por el di\u00e1metro externo (O. D.); pueden ser roscadas o abocinadas y macho o hembra. El compuesto para rosca y la soluci\u00f3n detectora de fugas son partes importantes del juego de plomer\u00eda de gas.\n\n**El contador de gas natural tiene un regulador** de presi\u00f3n y una v\u00e1lvula de cierre, que es activada con una llave especial o una llave inglesa.\n\n**Los requerimientos de** tama\u00f1o de tubo para instalaciones de gas son determinados sumando los BTUs de entrada necesarios para cada aparato, m\u00e1s la distancia de la l\u00ednea de suministro al aparato. Los BTUs de entrada necesarios son listados en las placas de identificaci\u00f3n que deben tener todos los aparatos de gas.\n\n**Aplique soluci\u00f3n detectora** de fugas en cada juntura despu\u00e9s de restablecer el flujo de gas para asegurar que no hay escapes; la fuga de gas forma burbujas en la soluci\u00f3n. No use jab\u00f3n corriente, pues puede conducir a la corrosi\u00f3n de metal alrededor del sello.\n\n####   **Trabajar con tuber\u00eda negra**\n\nTrabajar con tuber\u00eda negra es pr\u00e1cticamente igual a trabajar con tubo galvanizado (ver p\u00e1ginas 296 a ). El tubo debe ser nuevo o haber sido usado antes s\u00f3lo en uniones de gas.\n\nLa rosca del tubo negro es cortada de una forma ahusada referida como National Pipe Taper (NPT). El di\u00e1metro del tubo macho es m\u00e1s peque\u00f1o en el extremo; por eso es m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil enroscar una uni\u00f3n inicialmente, pero se torna m\u00e1s dif\u00edcil con cada giro. MPT y FPT se refieren a roscas macho y hembra cortadas para este est\u00e1ndar.\n\nTodas las roscas deben tener compuesto para uniones aplicado antes de ser acopladas, y hay que probar todas las junturas con detector de fugas al terminar la instalaci\u00f3n. Los compuestos pueden ser pasta gris y gruesa o pasta blanca PTFE (tefl\u00f3n); tambi\u00e9n se usa cinta PTFE amarilla. La cinta PTFE blanca com\u00fanmente utilizada en tuber\u00eda y conexiones de agua, no es aceptable para l\u00edneas de gas.\n\nDespu\u00e9s de terminar una instalaci\u00f3n y abrir el flujo de gas, se debe revisar si hay escapes en cada conexi\u00f3n. Use soluci\u00f3n detectora de fugas rociada alrededor de cada juntura; si hay fuga de gas, la soluci\u00f3n burbujear\u00e1 y har\u00e1 espuma. No use detergente como detector de escapes, pues contiene qu\u00edmicos corrosivos que pueden degradar la conexi\u00f3n. Apretar la juntura defectuosa implicar\u00e1 que las uniones subsiguientes sean apretadas, no aflojadas, para acomodar la nueva alineaci\u00f3n; aflojar crear\u00e1 potencialmente m\u00e1s fugas.\n\nEl tubo negro se consigue en una amplia variedad de longitudes roscadas; los m\u00e1s cortos se conocen como niples. Si no puede hacer que las longitudes est\u00e1ndar sirvan para su aplicaci\u00f3n, la mayor\u00eda de minoristas de tuber\u00eda tienen m\u00e1quinas fresadoras y cortan y hacen las roscas del tubo requerido, usualmente por un valor adicional.\n\nLas uniones para tuber\u00eda negra incluyen tes, reductores, codos con dos extremos hembra, codos de calle con un extremo macho y uno hembra, acoplamientos y tapones.\n\n**Corte el gas** girando la manija de la llave de paso m\u00e1s cercana en la l\u00ednea, de modo que quede perpendicular al tubo.\n\n**Aplique en abundancia** un compuesto aprobado para tubo de gas en toda la superficie de la rosca.\n\n**Apriete con la mano las uniones en el tubo roscado** todo lo que pueda.\n\n**Despu\u00e9s de apretar con la mano,** gire la uni\u00f3n o el tubo al menos una vuelta completa para ajustar. A fin de lograr una alineaci\u00f3n apropiada, puede hacer hasta dos giros completos, pero sin apretar demasiado. Use una llave para tubos para estabilizar la uni\u00f3n o el tubo fijo, mientras usa la otra llave para apretar la uni\u00f3n o tubo movible.\n\n####   **C\u00f3mo hacer una uni\u00f3n abocinada**\n\nLas uniones abocinadas se utilizan para conectar tubos de gas de cobre blando en un niple roscado: en un aparato a gas u otra uni\u00f3n. La clave aqu\u00ed es hacer un extremo perfectamente abocinado en el tubo con una herramienta de abocinamiento que se consigue en la mayor\u00eda de ferreter\u00edas o almacenes especializados. Aseg\u00farese que la uni\u00f3n abocinada de lat\u00f3n que compre encaje con el di\u00e1metro del tubo de cobre blando que est\u00e1 usando. Maneje el cobre suavemente y evite apretar en exceso la herramienta porque podr\u00eda romper el tubo.\n\n**Corte la punta** del tubo de cobre blando con un cortador de tubos y desbarbe el borde. Meta la tuerca abocinada de lat\u00f3n en el extremo cortado, con el extremo de la rosca hembra mirando hacia afuera.\n\n**Escoja el di\u00e1metro** externo correcto en la base de la herramienta y luego introduzca el extremo del tubo en la abertura. Apriete bien fuerte la herramienta.\n\n**Oriente el cono** abocinador en el escariador sobre el extremo abierto del tubo, y apriete la herramienta de abocinamiento hasta que el cono quede asentado completamente en el extremo del tubo, haciendo que se ensanche.\n\n**Remueva la herramienta** y examine el extremo del tubo abocinado, asegur\u00e1ndose que no haya grietas y que la tuerca se ajuste bien en el extremo del tubo abocinado. Ponga la tuerca en el niple roscado y apriete para crear la juntura. Pruebe si hay fugas.\n\n##   **AP\u00c9NDICE: Planificaci\u00f3n del proyecto**\n\nComience la planificaci\u00f3n elaborando los planos. Crear planos del sistema de plomer\u00eda de la vivienda es una buena forma de familiarizarse con la disposici\u00f3n de las instalaciones y es de ayuda al planificar proyectos de renovaci\u00f3n. Con un buen plano, se visualizan los mejores sitios para nuevas instalaciones y las nuevas rutas de tuber\u00eda son planeadas m\u00e1s eficazmente. Tambi\u00e9n ayudan en emergencias, cuando es necesario localizar r\u00e1pidamente tubos con fugas o reventados.\n\nHaga un plano de plomer\u00eda para cada piso sobre papel calcante, de modo que pueda sobreponer pisos y seguir viendo la informaci\u00f3n debajo. Haga sus trazos a escala y marque todas las instalaciones. Plantillas y papel calcante se consiguen en tiendas de art\u00edculos para dibujo.\n\n**Examine el s\u00f3tano** para determinar la localizaci\u00f3n de las tuber\u00edas de suministro, desag\u00fce, respiraci\u00f3n y gas en las paredes.\n\n**Use s\u00edmbolos de plomer\u00eda est\u00e1ndar** en el plano para identificar los componentes de su sistema de plomer\u00eda. Estos s\u00edmbolos le ayudar\u00e1n a usted y al inspector de construcci\u00f3n a seguir las conexiones y transiciones con mayor facilidad.\n\n##   **C\u00f3mo hacer el plano del sistema de plomer\u00eda**\n\n**Haga un plano del s\u00f3tano,** a escala, legible y preciso. Luego indique los componentes de la plomer\u00eda usando los s\u00edmbolos de la p\u00e1gina anterior.\n\n**Dibuje el primer piso en papel de dibujo transparente,** usando la misma escala que us\u00f3 para el s\u00f3tano. Haga planos separados de los pisos adicionales.\n\n**Sobreponga los diagramas** de los pisos superiores sobre el plano del primer piso, y marque la localizaci\u00f3n de las tuber\u00edas\u2014generalmente se extienden arriba desde las habitaciones\u2014. Si las instalaciones del primer y segundo piso no est\u00e1n bien alineadas, la tuber\u00eda de suministro sigue una ruta corrida en las cavidades de la pared y el piso. Al sobreponer los planos, se ve la relaci\u00f3n y distancia entre instalaciones, y las rutas de tuber\u00eda son proyectadas con precisi\u00f3n.\n\n**Opci\u00f3n:** use planos de la casa para crear el plano de plomer\u00eda. Pase los trazados generales de cada piso a papel calcante. Las paredes pueden ser dibujadas m\u00e1s grandes que la escala para que se ajusten a todos los s\u00edmbolos de plomer\u00eda que har\u00e1, pero mantenga a escala las dimensiones totales de las habitaciones y las instalaciones. Aseg\u00farese de hacer tambi\u00e9n diagramas para los espacios del s\u00f3tano y el desv\u00e1n.\n\n###   **C\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda**\n\n**El inspector de plomer\u00eda es la m\u00e1xima autoridad** en lo referente a la evaluaci\u00f3n de su trabajo. Examinando visualmente y probando su nueva plomer\u00eda, \u00e9l se asegura que sus instalaciones sean seguras y funcionales.\nEl c\u00f3digo de plomer\u00eda es el juego de regulaciones que los oficiales e inspectores de construcci\u00f3n usan para evaluar los proyectos y la calidad del trabajo. Los c\u00f3digos var\u00edan de una regi\u00f3n a otra, pero la mayor\u00eda se basa en el National Uniform Plumbing Code, que usamos en el desarrollo de este libro.\n\nLos libros de c\u00f3digos se pueden conseguir para referencia en librer\u00edas y dependencias del gobierno. Sin embargo, son manuales muy t\u00e9cnicos y dif\u00edciles de entender. Son de m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil manejo para los bricolajeros los diversos manuales de c\u00f3digos disponibles en librer\u00edas y bibliotecas. Estos manuales se basan en el National Uniform Plumbing Code, pero son m\u00e1s f\u00e1ciles de entender e incluyen muchos diagramas y fotos.\n\nLos manuales de c\u00f3digos de plomer\u00eda a veces hablan de tres \"zonas\" diferentes para acomodar variaciones en las regulaciones de un estado a otro. Los siguientes son los estados incluidos en cada zona.\n\n**Zona 1:** Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, Nuevo M\u00e9xico, Indiana, partes de Texas.\n\n**Zona 2:** Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, North Carolina, Mississippi, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, partes de Texas, partes de Maryland, partes de Delaware, partes de Oklahoma, partes de West Virginia.\n\n**Zona 3:** Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri, Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, New Jersey, partes de Delaware, partes de West Virginia, partes de Maine, partes de Maryland, partes de Oklahoma.\n\nRecuerde que el c\u00f3digo local siempre est\u00e1 por encima del c\u00f3digo nacional, y tambi\u00e9n puede ser m\u00e1s restrictivo. El inspector de construcci\u00f3n local es una fuente valiosa de informaci\u00f3n y le dar\u00e1 una \u00fatil hoja de resumen de las regulaciones que se aplican a su proyecto.\n\n#### **OBTENCI\u00d3N DEL PERMISO**\n\nEn favor de la seguridad p\u00fablica, la comunidad requiere que obtenga un permiso para la mayor\u00eda de proyectos de plomer\u00eda, incluyendo la mayor parte de los mostrados en este libro.\n\nCuando vaya a la oficina de inspecci\u00f3n de construcci\u00f3n para solicitar el permiso, el funcionario necesitar\u00e1 revisar tres esquemas de su proyecto de plomer\u00eda: un plano del sitio, un diagrama del suministro de agua y un diagrama del DWV, los cuales son mostrados en esta p\u00e1gina. Si el funcionario queda satisfecho porque su proyecto cumple con los requisitos del c\u00f3digo, le dar\u00e1 un permiso de plomer\u00eda que le permite iniciar legalmente el trabajo. El oficial de construcci\u00f3n tambi\u00e9n precisar\u00e1 un plan de inspecci\u00f3n para su proyecto. Cuando el trabajo est\u00e9 por terminarse, le pedir\u00e1n que programe una visita del inspector a su casa mientras la tuber\u00eda est\u00e1 expuesta para revisar la instalaci\u00f3n y comprobar su seguridad.\n\nAunque los bricolajeros suelen terminar complejos proyectos de plomer\u00eda sin obtener el permiso o hacer que inspeccionen el trabajo, le recomendamos enf\u00e1ticamente que cumpla con los requisitos legales en su regi\u00f3n. Un sistema de plomer\u00eda defectuoso puede ser peligroso y amenazar potencialmente el valor de la vivienda.\n\n**El plano del sitio** muestra la localizaci\u00f3n de la tuber\u00eda maestra de agua y la tuber\u00eda de alcantarillado en relaci\u00f3n con el patio y la casa. Las distancias de la base a la tuber\u00eda maestra y la de alcantarillado deben ser indicadas en el plano.\n\n**El diagrama de suministro** muestra la longitud de la tuber\u00eda de agua caliente y fr\u00eda y la relaci\u00f3n de las instalaciones entre s\u00ed. El inspector usar\u00e1 este diagrama para determinar el tama\u00f1o apropiado para la nueva tuber\u00eda de agua en su sistema.\n\n**El diagrama DWV** muestra la ruta de la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce y los respiraderos en el sistema. Aseg\u00farese de indicar las longitudes de los tubos de desag\u00fce y las distancias entre instalaciones. El inspector usar\u00e1 este diagrama para determinar si tiene el tama\u00f1o adecuado en los sifones, desag\u00fce y respiraderos en su proyecto.\n\n###  Tama\u00f1os para La tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n de agua\n\n**La tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n de agua** es la tuber\u00eda principal que se extiende desde el contador por toda la casa, suministrando agua a los ramales que conducen a las instalaciones individuales. Para determinar el tama\u00f1o de los tubos de distribuci\u00f3n, hay que calcular la demanda total en \"unidades de instalaci\u00f3n\" (arriba, izquierda) y la longitud total de las l\u00edneas de suministro, desde la conexi\u00f3n en la calle hasta el contador y hasta la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s distante en la casa. Luego, se usa la segunda tabla (arriba, derecha) para calcular el tama\u00f1o m\u00ednimo de los tubos de distribuci\u00f3n. Observe que la capacidad por instalaci\u00f3n depende en parte del tama\u00f1o de la tuber\u00eda del lado de la calle que conduce el agua hasta el contador.\n\n###   **Tama\u00f1os para ramales y tubos de suministro**\n\n**Los ramales son las l\u00edneas de suministro** que se extienden desde la tuber\u00eda de distribuci\u00f3n hacia las instalaciones individuales. Los tubos de suministro son los tubos de vinilo, cobre cromado o trenzado que conducen agua de los ramales a las instalaciones. Use esta tabla como gu\u00eda para el tama\u00f1o de ramales y tubos de suministro.\n\n###   **Requisitos de la v\u00e1lvula**\n\n**Las v\u00e1lvulas de compuerta o de bola** de paso total son requeridas en los siguientes sitios: en el lado de la calle y el lado de la casa del contador; en los tubos de entrada para calentadores de agua y calderas del sistema de calefacci\u00f3n. Las instalaciones individuales deben tener v\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n accesibles, pero \u00e9stas no necesitan ser de paso total. Todos los grifos exteriores deben tener v\u00e1lvulas de control individuales localizadas dentro de la casa.\n\n###   **Modificar la presi\u00f3n de agua**\n\n**La v\u00e1lvula reductora** de presi\u00f3n (mostrada aqu\u00ed) se requiere si la presi\u00f3n de agua que llega a la casa es mayor de 80 libras por pulgada cuadrada (psi). La v\u00e1lvula debe ser instalada cerca del punto donde el servicio de agua entra a la edificaci\u00f3n. Se necesita una bomba reforzadora si la presi\u00f3n del agua en la casa es menor de 40 psi.\n\n###   **Prevenir choques de agua**\n\n**Los supresores de** choque de agua pueden ser requeridos por c\u00f3digo. El choque de agua es un problema que se presenta cuando las v\u00e1lvulas de acci\u00f3n r\u00e1pida de lavadoras y otros aparatos atrapan aire y hacen que la tuber\u00eda vibre contra las partes del armaz\u00f3n. El supresor funciona como un absorbedor del choque y tiene un diafragma herm\u00e9tico dentro; es montado en una T instalada cerca del aparato (ver p\u00e1gina 294).\n\n###   **Dispositivos antisif\u00f3n**\n\n**Los rompevac\u00edos deben** ser instalados en todos los grifos para manguera internos y externos y cualquier ramal exterior subterr\u00e1neo (ver p\u00e1gina 177, paso 7). Ellos impiden que agua contaminada entre a la tuber\u00eda de suministro en caso de una repentina ca\u00edda de presi\u00f3n en la tuber\u00eda maestra. Cuando la baja de presi\u00f3n produce un vac\u00edo parcial, el rompevac\u00edo impide el reflujo dejando entrar aire en la tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Las bocas de limpieza** hacen que sea m\u00e1s f\u00e1cil mantener el sistema DWV. En la mayor\u00eda de regiones, el c\u00f3digo de plomer\u00eda pide la colocaci\u00f3n de bocas de limpieza en el extremo de cada tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce horizontal. Donde no son accesibles las tuber\u00edas horizontales, los sifones funcionar\u00e1n como bocas de limpieza.\n\n**Los intervalos m\u00ednimos** para apoyar la tuber\u00eda son determinados por el tipo de tubo y su orientaci\u00f3n en el sistema. Vea en la p\u00e1gina 40 los materiales de soporte aceptables. Recuerde que las medidas mostradas aqu\u00ed son requisitos m\u00ednimos; el c\u00f3digo local puede exigir soportes en intervalos m\u00e1s cortos.\n\n###   **Unidades de instalaci\u00f3n y tama\u00f1o m\u00ednimo del sif\u00f3n**\n\n**El tama\u00f1o m\u00ednimo del sif\u00f3n** para instalaciones es determinado por las unidades de instalaci\u00f3n de desag\u00fce, una unidad de medida fijada por el c\u00f3digo de plomer\u00eda. _Nota: los fregaderos tienen 3 unidades si incluyen un triturador de alimentos, o de otra manera 2 unidades._\n\n###   **Tama\u00f1os para la tuber\u00eda de desag\u00fce horizontal\/vertical**\n\n**Los tama\u00f1os de los tubos** de desag\u00fce son definidos por la carga sobre los mismos, medida por las unidades de instalaci\u00f3n totales. Los tubos horizontales con un di\u00e1metro menor de 3\", deben tener un declive de \u00bc\" por pie hacia el desag\u00fce principal. Los tubos con un di\u00e1metro de 3\" o m\u00e1s deben tener un declive de 1\/8\" por pie. _Nota: los tubos de desag\u00fce horizontales o verticales para retrete deben tener 3\" o m\u00e1s._\n\n###   **Tama\u00f1os de respiraderos y distancias cr\u00edticas**\n\n**Los respiraderos usualmente** tienen menor tama\u00f1o que los tubos de desag\u00fce a los que se conectan. El c\u00f3digo requiere que la distancia entre el sif\u00f3n y el respiradero est\u00e9 dentro de una \"distancia cr\u00edtica\" m\u00e1xima, una medida que es determinada por el tama\u00f1o del desag\u00fce de la instalaci\u00f3n. Use esta tabla para hallar el tama\u00f1o m\u00ednimo del respiradero y la distancia cr\u00edtica m\u00e1xima.\n\n###   **Orientaci\u00f3n del respiradero en el tubo de desag\u00fce**\n\n**Los respiraderos deben** extenderse en direcci\u00f3n ascendente desde los desag\u00fces, a no menos de 45\u00ba de la horizontal. Esto asegura que el agua residual no entre al respiradero y lo bloquee. En el extremo opuesto, debe ser conectado un nuevo respiradero a un respiradero existente o a la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n en un punto al menos 6\" arriba de la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s alta que desagua en el sistema.\n\n###   **Ventilaci\u00f3n h\u00fameda**\n\n**Los respiraderos h\u00famedos** son tubos que sirven como respiradero para una instalaci\u00f3n y desag\u00fce para otra. Su tama\u00f1o est\u00e1 basado en las unidades de instalaci\u00f3n totales que apoya (p\u00e1gina anterior): uno de 3\" puede servir hasta 12 unidades de instalaci\u00f3n; uno de 2\" es para 4 unidades; y el de \u00bd\" para s\u00f3lo 1 unidad. _Nota: la distancia entre la instalaci\u00f3n con ventilaci\u00f3n h\u00fameda y el respiradero h\u00famedo no debe ser mayor que la distancia cr\u00edtica m\u00e1xima (tabla arriba)._\n\n###   **Ventilaci\u00f3n auxiliar**\n\n**Las instalaciones deben** tener una ventilaci\u00f3n auxiliar si la distancia a la tuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n excede la distancia cr\u00edtica (tabla arriba). Por ejemplo, un retrete debe tener un respiradero aparte si se localiza a m\u00e1s de 6 pies de la tuber\u00eda principal. Este respiradero secundario debe conectarse al bajante o a otro respiradero en un punto al menos 6\" arriba de la instalaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s alta en el sistema.\n\n###   **Probar una nueva tuber\u00eda**\n\nCuando el inspector de construcci\u00f3n llegue a revisar sunueva plomer\u00eda, es probable que requiera una prueba de presi\u00f3n en las l\u00edneas de suministro de agua y DWV. La inspecci\u00f3n y la prueba deben realizarse despu\u00e9s que el sistema sea terminado pero antes que la nueva tuber\u00eda sea cubierta con cart\u00f3n tabla. Para asegurar que la inspecci\u00f3n pase sin problemas, es buena idea que haga una prueba previa para localizar y reparar lo que sea necesario antes de la visita del inspector.\n\nEl sistema DWV es probado bloqueando los nuevos tubos de desag\u00fce y los respiraderos, y luego presurizando el sistema con aire para ver si tiene fugas. En las conexiones de las instalaciones, los tubos DWV son taponados con globos de prueba dise\u00f1ados para este prop\u00f3sito. La bomba de aire, el man\u00f3metro y los globos requeridos para la prueba del sistema DWV se consiguen en centros de alquiler de herramientas.\n\nPara probar las l\u00edneas de suministro s\u00f3lo se requiere abrir el flujo de agua y ver si hay fugas en las uniones. Si encuentra un escape, tendr\u00e1 que desaguar la tuber\u00eda y rehacer las junturas defectuosas.\n\n**El man\u00f3metro y la bomba de aire** se usan para probar las l\u00edneas DWV. Primero el sistema es bloqueado en cada instalaci\u00f3n y en puntos cercanos a donde los nuevos tubos de desag\u00fce y respiraderos se conectan a la tuber\u00eda principal. Luego se bombea aire en el sistema a una presi\u00f3n de 5 libras por pulgada cuadrada (psi). Para la inspecci\u00f3n, el sistema debe mantener esta presi\u00f3n durante 15 minutos.\n\n###   **C\u00f3mo probar la nueva tuber\u00eda DWV**\n\n**Introduzca el globo** en las tes de prueba en la parte superior e inferior de la nueva l\u00ednea DWV, bloqueando la tuber\u00eda por completo. _Nota: las tes corrientes instaladas cerca de la parte inferior de la l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce y cerca del tope de la l\u00ednea de respiraci\u00f3n, generalmente son usadas como uniones de prueba._\n\n**Tapone los desag\u00fces** del retrete con un globo de prueba dise\u00f1ado para un codo de retrete. Los globos grandes son inflados con una bomba de aire.\n\n**Tape los desag\u00fces** de instalaciones restantes pegando con cola solvente los tapones de prueba en las conexiones. Despu\u00e9s que el sistema es probado, los tapones se quitan f\u00e1cilmente con un martillo.\n\n**En una uni\u00f3n** con boca de limpieza, introduzca un \"weenie\"\u2014un globo de prueba especial con un man\u00f3metro de aire y una v\u00e1lvula de inflaci\u00f3n\u2014. Conecte una bomba de aire en la v\u00e1lvula del weenie y presurice la tuber\u00eda a 5 psi. Observe el man\u00f3metro durante 15 minutos para asegurar que el sistema no pierde presi\u00f3n.\n\n**Si el sistema DWV** pierde aire cuando es presurizado, revise si hay fugas en cada juntura frotando agua jabonosa sobre las uniones y buscando burbujas. Cuando identifique una juntura con problemas, corte la uni\u00f3n y pegue una nueva con cola solvente, usando acoplamientos y tubos cortos.\n\n**Despu\u00e9s que el sistema DWV haya sido examinado** y aprobado por un inspector de construcci\u00f3n, quite los globos de prueba y tape las tes pegando con cola tapones sobre las entradas abiertas.\n\n##   **Glosario**\n\n**Acoplamiento\u2014** Uni\u00f3n que conecta dos secciones de tubo pero puede ser removido sin cortar.\n\n**Acople\u2014** Accesorio que conecta dos piezas de tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Aparato\u2014** Dispositivo que usa agua, tal como un calentador, lavaplatos, lavadora, ba\u00f1era o descalcificador.\n\n**Bajante sanitario\u2014** L\u00ednea de desag\u00fce vertical principal, que lleva desecho de todos los ramales de desag\u00fce a una l\u00ednea de alcantarillado.\n\n**Boca de limpieza\u2014** Tapa de tubo de desag\u00fce o sif\u00f3n que da acceso para limpieza.\n\n**Boquilla de expansi\u00f3n** \u2014 Dispositivo expansible de caucho que se conecta a una manguera de jard\u00edn; usada para limpiar desag\u00fces de piso.\n\n**Brida para retrete\u2014** Anillo en la abertura del desag\u00fce del retrete, usado como la base del mismo.\n\n**Bucle de respiraci\u00f3n\u2014** Un tipo especial de configuraci\u00f3n de respiradero que se usa en instalaciones con fregadero isla.\n\n**Codo\u2014** Uni\u00f3n angulada que cambia la direcci\u00f3n de una tuber\u00eda.\n\n**Codo para retrete\u2014** Accesorio curvado que se conecta entre la brida y el desag\u00fce del retrete.\n\n**Desatascador\u2014** Herramienta flexible usada para limpiar obstrucciones en l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Desatascador de barrena\u2014** Cable flexible para limpiar obstrucciones en retretes.\n\n**Desatascador el\u00e9ctrico\u2014** Herramienta el\u00e9ctrica con cable flexible, usada para remover ra\u00edces de \u00e1rboles en l\u00edneas de alcantarillado.\n\n**DWV\u2014** Desag\u00fce, desecho y respiraci\u00f3n; sistema para evacuar agua de una casa.\n\n**Fundente (pasta para soldar)\u2014** Pasta aplicada a junturas met\u00e1licas antes de soldar para hacer m\u00e1s fuerte la uni\u00f3n.\n\n**Grifo exterior\u2014** Grifo de compresi\u00f3n usado en el exterior de una casa.\n\n**Grifo para manguera\u2014** Cualquier pico de grifo roscado que reciba mangueras.\n\n**I.D.\u2014** Di\u00e1metro interno; los tubos de plomer\u00eda son clasificados por I.D.\n\n**Instalaci\u00f3n\u2014** Dispositivo que usa agua, tal como un lavamanos, ba\u00f1era, ducha, grifo exterior o retrete.\n\n**Llave de flotador\u2014** V\u00e1lvula que controla el agua que entra al tanque de un retrete.\n\n**Masilla de plomero\u2014** Un material blando usado para sellar uniones entre instalaciones y partes de suministro o desag\u00fce.\n\n**Niple\u2014** Tubo con extremos roscados.\n\n**O.D.\u2014** Di\u00e1metro externo.\n\n**Panel de acceso\u2014** Abertura en una pared o techo que brinda acceso al sistema de plomer\u00eda.\n\n**Ramal\u2014** Tuber\u00eda que conecta l\u00edneas adicionales a un sistema de suministro de agua.\n\n**Ramal de desag\u00fce\u2014** Tuber\u00eda que conecta l\u00edneas adicionales a un sistema de desag\u00fce.\n\n**Reductor\u2014** Un accesorio que conecta tubos de diferentes tama\u00f1os.\n\n**Respiradero h\u00famedo\u2014** Tubo que sirve de desag\u00fce para una instalaci\u00f3n y de respiradero para otra.\n\n**Rompevac\u00edo\u2014** Accesorio para instalaciones externas y subterr\u00e1neas que impide que el agua residual entre a las l\u00edneas de suministro si cae la presi\u00f3n de agua.\n\n**Sif\u00f3n\u2014** Secci\u00f3n curvada del desag\u00fce, llena de agua, que impide que gases cloacales entren a la casa.\n\n**Soldadura\u2014** Aleaci\u00f3n met\u00e1lica usada para unir permanentemente tubos met\u00e1licos (por lo general de cobre).\n\n**Sonda manual (culebra)\u2014** Herramienta manual con cable flexible que se usa para limpiar atascos en l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce.\n\n**T\u2014** Uni\u00f3n en forma de T usada para crear o conectar ramales.\n\n**Tap\u00f3n de descarga (bola del tanque)\u2014** Sello de caucho que controla el flujo de agua de un tanque de retrete a la taza.\n\n**Tuber\u00eda\u2014** Ensamble de tubos que se extiende del suministro de agua a la instalaci\u00f3n, o del desag\u00fce al bajante principal.\n\n**Tuber\u00eda DWV\u2014** Conecta el sistema de desag\u00fce de la casa a una l\u00ednea de alcantarillado en la parte inferior, y desfoga aire afuera en la parte superior.\n\n**Tubo ascendente\u2014** Ensamble de uniones y tubos de suministro de agua que lleva agua hacia arriba.\n\n**Uni\u00f3n sanitaria\u2014** Accesorio que se une a la tuber\u00eda DWV. Permite el paso de material s\u00f3lido sin atascamientos.\n\n**V\u00e1lvula de admisi\u00f3n de aire\u2014** Una v\u00e1lvula que permite que entre aire en una l\u00ednea de desag\u00fce para facilitar el drenaje apropiado; a menudo se usa donde ser\u00eda dif\u00edcil instalar un respiradero tradicional.\n\n**V\u00e1lvula de asiento\u2014** Accesorio conectado a tuber\u00eda de suministro de cobre, con punta hueca que punza el tubo para desviar agua a otro aparato, por lo general un lavaplatos o una m\u00e1quina de hacer de hielo.\n\n**V\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n\u2014** V\u00e1lvula que controla el suministro de agua para una instalaci\u00f3n o aparato.\n\n**V\u00e1lvula de retenci\u00f3n principal\u2014** V\u00e1lvula que controla el suministro de agua en una casa; usualmente cerca del contador.\n\n**Y\u2014** Uni\u00f3n en forma de Y usada para crear o conectar ramales.\n\n##   **Tablas de conversiones**\n\n### **Dimensiones de los maderos**\n\n### **Conversiones m\u00e9tricas**\n\n### **Di\u00e1metros del agujero escariado, v\u00e1stago y agujero piloto**\n\n##   **Recursos**\n\nAmerican Standard  \n800 442 1902  \nwww.americanstandard-us.com\n\nGeneral Electric  \nwww.ge.com\n\nHakatai  \n888 667 2429  \nwww.hakatai.com  \nMostrado en las p\u00e1ginas 112, ,\n\nInternational Assoc. of Plumbing & Mechanical Officials  \n909 472 4100  \nwww.iapmo.org\n\nInternational Code Council  \n800 284 4406  \nwww.iccsafe.org\n\nJohn Guest Co.  \nSpeedfit push-in fittings  \nwww.johnguest.com\n\nKleer Drain  \nwww.kleerdrain.com\n\nKleve Inc.  \n952 941 4211  \nwww.kleveheating.com\n\nKohler  \n800 4 KOHLER  \nwww.kohlerco.com\n\nNational Kitchen & Bathroom Assoc. (NKBA)  \n800 843 6522  \nwww.nkba.com\n\nPlumbing and Drainage Institute  \n978 557 0720  \nwww.pdionline.org\n\nPrice Pfister  \n800 624 2120  \nWww.pricepfister.com\n\nSwanstone  \n800 325 7008  \nWww.swanstone.com\n\nToto  \n800 350 8686  \nwww.totousa.com\n\nWorld Plumbing Council  \n+44 17 08 47 27 91  \nemail: secretariat@worldplumbing.org  \nwww.worldplumbing.org\n\n### **Reconocimientos**\n\np. 13 foto de Terry J Alcorn \/ www.istock.com\n\np. 18 foto cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 19 fotos cortes\u00eda de Price Pfister\n\np. 29 foto cortes\u00eda de GE\n\np. 48 fotos cortes\u00eda de Price Pfister\n\np. 64 foto cortes\u00eda de Ceramic Tiles of Italy\n\np. 71 fotos cortes\u00eda de Ceramic Tiles of Italy\n\np. 72 foto cortes\u00eda de American Standard\n\np. 73 foto (arriba izquierda) cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 80 foto cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 96 bid\u00e9 cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 97 foto cortes\u00eda de Toto\n\np. 100 orinal cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 101 (arriba izquierda y derecha) fotos cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 101 (abajo izquierda) foto de Auke Holwerda \/ www.istock.com\n\np. 101 (abajo derecha) foto cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 115 foto de Jennifer Morgan \/ www.istock.com\n\np. 120 foto cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 122 foto cortes\u00eda de GE\n\np. 132 foto de Nicola Gavin \/ www.istock.com\n\np. 137 (abajo izquierda y derecha) fotos cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 137 (arriba derecha) foto cortes\u00eda de Ceramic Tiles of Italy\n\np. 140 (arriba) foto cortes\u00eda de Swanstone\n\np. 226 foto cortes\u00eda de Kohler\n\np. 315 foto de Norman Pogson \/ www.istock.com\n\n##   **\u00cdndice**\n\n**A**\n\nAgua\n\nde desecho,\n\nmodificar presi\u00f3n,\n\nuso, ,\n\nAgua suavizada, \u2013107\n\nAireadores, reparar, ,\n\nAlicates,\n\nAlicates planos,\n\nAlicates tipo canal,\n\nAntorchas de propano, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nAparatos\n\nconsumo de gas de,\n\ninstalar l\u00edneas de gas para, \u2013197\n\nl\u00edneas para, ,\n\n**B**\n\nBa\u00f1eras\n\nalcove\n\ngeneralidades de ,\n\ninstalar, \u201379\n\nremover vieja\n\ngrifos mixtos para duchas y\n\nreparar de dos manijas, \u2013235\n\nreparar de tres manijas, \u2013233\n\nreparar monomando, \u2013237\n\ntipos de, \u2013231\n\nhidromasaje\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201395\n\ninstalar DWV para, \u2013167\n\njuegos de desag\u00fce y rebose para,\n\npuertas de corredera\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201387\n\nrecintos de tres piezas\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201383\n\nreemplazar picos,\n\nreparar desag\u00fces, \u2013243\n\nBa\u00f1eras de hidromasaje\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201395\n\nBa\u00f1eras de hidromasaje\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201395\n\nBa\u00f1os\n\nba\u00f1eras\n\nalcove\n\ngeneralidades de, ,\n\ninstalar, \u201379\n\nremover vieja, \u201375\n\nde hidromasaje\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201395\n\ngrifos mixtos para duchas y\n\nreparar de dos manijas, ,\n\nreparar de monomando, \u2013237\n\nreparar de tres manijas, \u2013233\n\ntipos de, \u2013231\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para, \u2013167\n\njuegos de desag\u00fce y rebose para,\n\npuertas de corredera\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201387\n\nrecintos de tres piezas\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201383\n\nreemplazar picos,\n\nreparar desag\u00fces, \u2013243\n\nbid\u00e9s\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201397\n\ninstalar, \u201399\n\nduchas\n\nbases personalizadas\n\nconstruir embaldosadas, \u201370\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201365\n\nideas de dise\u00f1o,\n\ngrifos mixtos para ba\u00f1eras y\n\nreparar de dos manijas, ,\n\nreparar de tres manijas, \u2013233\n\nreparar monomando, \u2013237\n\ntipos de, \u2013231\n\ninstalar adaptadores flexibles,\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para, \u2013167\n\nrecintos\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar puertas con bisagra, \u201363\n\ninstalar recintos, \u201361\n\nreparar cabezales de duchas,\n\nreparar desag\u00fces, \u2013243\n\nlavamanos\n\nconexiones de desag\u00fce,\n\nde encimera, \u2013139\n\nevitar atascamiento,\n\ngrifos\n\nconexiones de desag\u00fce,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar de un solo cuerpo,\n\ninstalar extendido, \u201352\n\nreparaciones, \u2013219,\n\ninstalar neceseres de pared, ,\n\ninstalar pedestal, \u2013133\n\ninstalar tapas de la vanidad, \u2013141\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para, \u2013165\n\nlimpiar sifones,\n\nconectar tuber\u00eda DWV a bajante principal,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda de agua,\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para ba\u00f1eras y duchas, \u2013167\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para retrete y lavamanos, \u2013165\n\nmedio\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nplomer\u00eda,\n\nretretes\n\najustar el nivel de agua,\n\najustar manijas y cadena\/alambre,\n\narreglar balanceo, \u2013215\n\ndesatascar, \u2013213\n\nescoger nuevo, \u201313\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar nuevo, \u201317\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV para, \u2013165\n\nproblemas frecuentes y reparaciones, \u2013201,\n\nreemplazar l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce, \u2013217\n\nreemplazar v\u00e1lvulas de descarga, \u2013209\n\nreemplazar v\u00e1lvulas de llenado, \u2013207\n\nremover viejo,\n\nreparar si la descarga se detiene muy r\u00e1pido,\n\ns\u00f3tano\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nplomer\u00eda, \u2013175\n\norinales\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013101\n\ninstalar, \u2013105\n\nBa\u00f1os del s\u00f3tano\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nplomer\u00eda, \u2013175\n\nBa\u00f1o principal\n\nconectar tuber\u00eda DWV a bajante principal,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar DWV para ba\u00f1eras y duchas, \u2013167\n\ninstalar DWV para retrete y lavamanos, \u2013165\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda de agua,\n\nBa\u00f1os medios,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nplomer\u00eda,\n\nBid\u00e9s\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201397\n\ninstalar, \u201399\n\nBolitas (sal),\n\nBoquillas de expansi\u00f3n, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nBridas (retrete), \u2013215\n\nBridas para retrete, \u2013215\n\nBucles de respiraci\u00f3n, ,\n\n**C**\n\nCables del interruptor con tomacorriente,\n\nCalentadores a gas\n\ninstalar, , \u201347\n\npartes de,\n\nCalentadores de agua\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201342\n\ninstalar de gas, , \u201347\n\ninstalar el\u00e9ctricos,\n\nCalentadores de agua el\u00e9ctricos\n\ninstalar,\n\npartes de,\n\nCepillos de alambre,\n\nCintas m\u00e9tricas,\n\nCocinas\n\ndesag\u00fces y sifones\n\nconectar, \u201327\n\nescoger nuevos,\n\njuegos para,\n\npara lavaplatos y trituradores,\n\npartes de,\n\nfregaderos\n\ndesatascar,\n\nescoger nuevo, ,\n\ninstalar de borde terminado,\n\ninstalar empotrado, \u2013149\n\ngrifos\n\nescoger nuevo, \u201319\n\ninstalar nuevo, \u201323\n\nremover viejo,\n\nplomer\u00eda remodelada\n\nconsejos,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar DWV para fregaderos de pared, \u2013182\n\ninstalar DWV para fregaderos isla, \u2013187\n\nnstalar nueva tuber\u00eda de suministro, \u2013191\n\nv\u00e1lvulas de admisi\u00f3n de aire y, , ,\n\nreparaci\u00f3n de rociadores y aireadores, \u2013229\n\nC\u00f3digos y permisos, \u2013321\n\nColas solventes, , \u2013285\n\nConsumo de gas de aparatos,\n\nContadores de agua con fugas,\n\nContadores de agua,\n\nCortadores de cajas,\n\nCortadores de presi\u00f3n, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nCortadores de tubo pl\u00e1stico, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nCortadores de tubos, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nCortafr\u00edos,\n\nCristales (sal),\n\nCuchillos,\n\nCuchillos de enmasillar,\n\n**D**\n\nDesag\u00fces\n\nba\u00f1os\n\ninstalar, \u201355\n\nreemplazar l\u00edneas del retrete, \u2013217\n\nreparar ba\u00f1era y ducha, \u2013243\n\ncocina\n\nescoger nueva,\n\njuegos para,\n\nmontar, \u201327\n\npartes de,\n\nconexiones para grifos de ba\u00f1o,\n\ndesatascadores,\n\ninstalar tubo vertical, \u2013151\n\nlimpiar ramales,\n\npiso\n\nconexiones de fregadero,\n\nlimpiar, \u2013249\n\nreemplazar tap\u00f3n de limpieza,\n\nreemplazar ramales, \u2013253\n\nuniones para,\n\nDesag\u00fces autom\u00e1ticos\n\ninstalar, \u201355\n\nreparar,\n\nDesag\u00fces de \u00e9mbolo, reparar,\n\nDesag\u00fces de tubo vertical, instalar, \u2013151\n\nDesatascadores\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nusar para limpiar retretes,\n\nDesatascadores\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nusar, ,\n\nDesatascadores de barrena\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\npara limpiar retretes atascados,\n\nDesatascadores el\u00e9ctricos, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nDesatascadores el\u00e9ctricos, usar, \u2013249\n\nDescalcificadores\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013107\n\ninstalar, \u2013109\n\nDescalcificadores,\n\nDestornilladores, ,\n\nDispensadores de agua caliente\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u2013113\n\nDispensadores de agua caliente\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u2013113\n\nDispositivos antisif\u00f3n,\n\nDuchas\n\nbases personalizadas\n\nconstruir embaldosadas, \u201370\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201365\n\nideas de dise\u00f1o,\n\ngrifos mixtos para ba\u00f1eras y\n\nreparar de dos manijas, ,\n\nreparar de tres manijas, \u2013233\n\nreparar monomando, \u2013237\n\ntipos de, \u2013231\n\ninstalar adaptadores flexibles,\n\ninstalar DWV para, \u2013167\n\nrecintos\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar puertas con bisagra, \u201363\n\ninstalar recintos, \u201361\n\nreparar cabezales de ducha,\n\nreparar desag\u00fces, \u2013243\n\n**E**\n\nEliminadores de alimentos\n\ngeneralidades de, \u201335\n\ninstalar, \u201339\n\n**F**\n\nFiltro de agua para toda la casa, instalar,\n\nFiltros de agua\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013123\n\ninstalar \u00f3smosis inversa, \u2013126\n\ninstalar sistemas para toda la casa,\n\nlugar de uso,\n\nFiltros de agua por \u00f3smosis inversa\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013123\n\ninstalar, \u2013126\n\nFiltros en su lugar de uso,\n\nFlux\u00f3metro Kohler,\n\nFregaderos empotrados\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013145\n\ninstalar, \u2013149\n\nFregaderos isla, instalar DWV para, \u2013187\n\nFundamentos de plomer\u00eda\n\npreparaci\u00f3n y planificaci\u00f3n, \u2013157\n\nrutas de tuber\u00eda, \u2013161\n\nsistema domiciliario descrito, \u20139\n\n**G**\n\nGabinetes de tocador, instalar,\n\nGrifos\n\nde cartucho\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nreparar monomando de ba\u00f1era y ducha, \u2013237\n\nde bola\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nde compresi\u00f3n\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nfregadero\n\nescoger nuevo, \u201319\n\ninstalar nuevo, \u201323\n\nremover viejo,\n\nlavamanos\n\nconexiones de desag\u00fce,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar de un solo cuerpo,\n\ninstalar extendido, \u201352\n\nllenadores de olla, \u2013121\n\nproblemas frecuentes y reparaciones, \u2013219\n\nreparar mixtos\n\nde dos manijas, ,\n\nde tres manijas, \u2013233\n\nmonomando, \u2013237\n\ntipos de, \u2013231\n\nGrifos a prueba de congelamiento\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013129\n\nreemplazar grifos con, \u2013131\n\nGrifos a prueba de congelamiento\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013129\n\nreemplazar grifos para manguera con, \u2013131\n\nGrifos de bola\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nGrifos de cartucho\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nreparar ba\u00f1era\/ducha de una manija, \u2013237\n\nGrifos de compresi\u00f3n\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nGrifos de disco\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, ,\n\nreemplazar, ,\n\nGrifos de dos manijas\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nreparar, ,\n\nGrifos de tres manijas\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nreparar, \u2013233\n\nGrifos de un solo cuerpo, instalar,\n\nGrifos de una pieza con rociador, instalar,\n\nGrifos extendidos, instalar, \u201352\n\nGrifos monomando\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nreparar, \u2013237\n\nGrifos para manguera, fugas,\n\n**H**\n\nHerramientas, \u2013270,\n\nHerramientas alquiladas,\n\nHerramientas el\u00e9ctricas, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nHerramientas manuales, descripci\u00f3n, \u2013271\n\nHidromasaje,\n\n**I**\n\nInstalaciones, descripci\u00f3n, ,\n\n**J**\n\nJuegos de desag\u00fce, desecho y rebose (para ba\u00f1eras),\n\n**L**\n\nLavadoras, instalar desag\u00fce de tubo vertical para, \u2013151\n\nLavamanos\n\ncocina\n\nconectar desag\u00fces y sifones, \u201327\n\ndesatascar,\n\nescoger nueva, ,\n\ninstalar de borde terminado,\n\ninstalar empotrado, \u2013149\n\nde encimera\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013137\n\ninstalar, \u2013139\n\nen islas,\n\nevitar atascamiento,\n\ngrifos del ba\u00f1o\n\nconexiones de desag\u00fce,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar extendido, \u201352\n\ninstalar solo cuerpo,\n\ninstalar neceseres de pared, \u2013135\n\ninstalar tapas de la vanidad, \u2013141\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda DWV\n\npara ba\u00f1os, \u2013165\n\npara isla, \u2013187\n\npara pared, \u2013182\n\nlimpiar sif\u00f3n,\n\npedestal, instalar, \u2013133\n\nreparaciones de grifo\n\nfrecuentes, \u2013219\n\njuegos,\n\nLavamanos de encimera\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013137\n\ninstalar, \u2013139\n\nLavamanos de pedestal, instalar,\n\nLavaplatos\n\ncargar,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nreemplazar viejo, \u201333\n\ntes de desag\u00fce y,\n\nLimas,\n\nL\u00edneas de gas, instalar nuevas, \u2013197\n\nLinternas,\n\n**LL**\n\nLlaves de trinquete,\n\nLlaves inglesas,\n\nLlaves inglesas, descripci\u00f3n, , , ,\n\nLlaves lavaplatos,\n\nLlaves para tubos, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nLlaves spud, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nLlenadores de ollas, \u2013121\n\n**M**\n\nMangueras de descarga, alargar,\n\nMangueras, alargar descarga,\n\nM\u00e1quinas de hacer hielo\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013115\n\ninstalar, \u2013119\n\nMartillos de bola,\n\nMartillos,\n\nMateriales, \u2013273,\n\n**N**\n\nNeceseres\n\ninstalar de pared, \u2013135\n\ninstalar tapas de vanidad, \u2013141\n\nNeceseres de pared, instalar, \u2013135\n\nNiveles,\n\n**O**\n\nOrinales\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013101\n\ninstalar, \u2013105\n\nOrinales sin agua,\n\n**P**\n\nParedes h\u00famedas,\n\nPermisos,\n\nPistolas de calafateo,\n\nPlanificaci\u00f3n del proyecto\n\nc\u00f3digos y permisos, \u2013321\n\netapa de prueba, \u2013327\n\nplanos del sistema de plomer\u00eda,\n\npresi\u00f3n de agua y,\n\nrequisitos de tama\u00f1o del sif\u00f3n,\n\nrequisitos de tubo, suministro y v\u00e1lvula, , ,\n\ns\u00edmbolos de plomer\u00eda,\n\nPolietileno flexible (PE), \u2013287\n\nPolietileno reticulado (PEX)\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013289,\n\nhacer conexiones,\n\ninstalar, \u2013291\n\npara adici\u00f3n,\n\nsistema de suministro de agua con, \u2013295\n\nsistema dise\u00f1ado con,\n\nProbadores de circuito,\n\nPuertas\n\nde corredera para la ba\u00f1era\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar, \u201387\n\ninstalar con bisagra para ducha, \u201363\n\n**R**\n\nRamales de desag\u00fce, limpiar, \u2013147,\n\nReciclar agua de desecho,\n\nRequisitos de ventilaci\u00f3n,\n\nRespiraderos. Ver Sistemas DWV Respiraderos h\u00famedos,\n\nRetretes\n\najustar el nivel de agua en el tanque,\n\najustar manijas y cadena\/alambre,\n\narreglar balanceo, \u2013215\n\ndesatascar, \u2013213\n\nescoger nuevo, \u201313\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\ninstalar DWV para, \u2013165\n\ninstalar nuevo, \u201317\n\nproblemas frecuentes y reparaciones, \u2013201,\n\nreemplazar l\u00edneas de desag\u00fce, \u2013217\n\nreemplazar v\u00e1lvulas de descarga, \u2013209\n\nreemplazar v\u00e1lvulas de llenado, \u2013207\n\nremover viejo,\n\nreparar si descarga se detiene muy r\u00e1pido,\n\nRetretes de dos piezas,\n\nRetretes de una pieza,\n\nRetretes elevados,\n\nRetretes por gravedad,\n\nRetretes por presi\u00f3n,\n\nRociadores y aireadores, reparar, \u2013229\n\nRompevac\u00edos,\n\n**S**\n\nSal evaporada,\n\nSal gema,\n\nSal gruesa,\n\nSensores electr\u00f3nicos para orinales, ,\n\nSierras,\n\nSierras de armero,\n\nSifones\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\ndesag\u00fces de cocina y\n\nconectar, \u201327\n\nescoger nuevos,\n\njuegos para,\n\npara lavaplatos y trituradores,\n\npartes de,\n\nlimpiar en lavamanos,\n\nrequisitos de tama\u00f1o,\n\nretretes atascados y,\n\nusar sonda manual en brazo,\n\nSistema de plomer\u00eda domiciliario, descripci\u00f3n, \u20139\n\nSistemas de descarga doble (retretes),\n\nSistemas de suministro de agua\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nplomer\u00eda usando PEX, \u2013295\n\nSistemas DWV\n\ndescripci\u00f3n, , ,\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda para ba\u00f1eras y duchas, \u2013167\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda para fregaderos de pared, \u2013182\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda para fregaderos isla, \u2013187\n\ninstalar tuber\u00eda para retretes y lavamanos, \u2013165\n\nprobar nueva tuber\u00eda, \u2013327\n\nreemplazar ramales de desag\u00fce y respiraderos, \u2013253\n\nrespiraderos h\u00famedos,\n\ntuber\u00eda de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n\n\nconectar desag\u00fces y respiraderos a,\n\nlimpiar,\n\nreemplazar, \u2013259\n\nuniones de respiradero para, ,\n\nSondas manuales\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nusar, ,\n\nSupresores de choque de agua, ,\n\n**T**\n\nTabla de partes del armaz\u00f3n,\n\nTaladros de \u00e1ngulo recto, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nTaladros, descripci\u00f3n,\n\nTapones de limpieza del desag\u00fce principal, reemplazar,\n\nTazas de retrete alargadas,\n\nTes de desag\u00fce\n\nTuber\u00eda\n\ncobre\n\ncortar, ,\n\ndesarmar junturas soldadas,\n\nsoldar, , \u2013280\n\ntipos de, \u2013275\n\ntrabajar con gas, \u2013315,\n\nunir con acoplamiento de compresi\u00f3n,\n\nconectar desag\u00fce y respiradero a bajante principal,\n\nhierro colado\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nremover y reemplazar, \u2013303\n\nhierro galvanizado\n\nfugas,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nremover y reemplazar, \u2013299\n\ninstalar DWV para ba\u00f1eras y duchas, \u2013167\n\ninstalar DWV para fregaderos de pared, \u2013182\n\ninstalar DWV para fregaderos isla, \u2013187\n\ninstalar nuevo suministro, \u2013191\n\ninstalar suministro de agua,\n\nnuevas rutas de plomer\u00eda, \u2013161\n\npara l\u00edneas de gas\n\ninstalar, \u2013197\n\ntrabajar con, \u2013317\n\npl\u00e1stico flexible externo, \u2013287\n\npl\u00e1stico r\u00edgido\n\ncortar,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\npegar con cola, \u2013285\n\npolietileno reticulado (PEX)\n\ndise\u00f1o de sistema con,\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013289,\n\nhacer conexiones,\n\ninstalar, \u2013291\n\npara adici\u00f3n,\n\nplomer\u00eda sistema de suministro, usar, \u2013295\n\nprobar nueva, \u2013327\n\nrequisitos de tama\u00f1o, , ,\n\nreventada, reparar, \u2013263\n\nruidosa, arreglar, \u2013265\n\nsuministro\n\ndescripci\u00f3n,\n\nreemplazar, \u2013261\n\ntipos comunes de, \u2013273\n\nTuber\u00eda de cobre\n\ncortar, ,\n\ndesarmar junturas soldadas,\n\nsoldar, , \u2013280\n\ntipos de, \u2013275\n\ntrabajar con gas, \u2013315,\n\nunir con acoplamiento de compresi\u00f3n,\n\nTuber\u00eda de gas, trabajar con, \u2013317\n\nTuber\u00eda de hierro colado\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nremover y reemplazar, \u2013303\n\nTuber\u00eda de hierro galvanizado con fugas,\n\nTuber\u00eda de suministro\n\ninstalar nueva, \u2013191\n\nsistema descrito,\n\nTuber\u00eda negra, trabajar con,\n\nTuber\u00eda PEX\n\ndise\u00f1o de sistema con,\n\ngeneralidades de, \u2013289,\n\nhacer conexiones,\n\ninstalar, \u2013291\n\npara adici\u00f3n,\n\nsistema de suministro usando, \u2013295\n\nTuber\u00eda principal de desecho y respiraci\u00f3n\n\nconectar desag\u00fces y respiraderos a,\n\nlimpiar,\n\nreemplazar, \u2013259\n\nTubo pl\u00e1stico externo, trabajar con, \u2013287\n\nTubos de suministro\n\ninstalar,\n\nrequisitos de tama\u00f1o,\n\nTubos pl\u00e1sticos\n\nflexibles externos, trabajar con, \u2013287\n\nr\u00edgidos\n\ncortar,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\npegar con cola, \u2013285\n\nTubos pl\u00e1sticos ABS. Ver Tubos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos\n\nTubos pl\u00e1sticos CPVC. Ver Tubos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos\n\nTubos pl\u00e1sticos PVC. Ver Tubos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos\n\nTubos pl\u00e1sticos r\u00edgidos\n\ncortar,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\npegar con cola, \u2013285\n\nTubos y uniones de hierro galvanizado\n\nfugas,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\nremover y reemplazar, \u2013299\n\n**U**\n\nUniones\n\nde compresi\u00f3n, \u2013313\n\nhacer abocinadas,\n\npara tubos de cobre,\n\ntipos de, \u2013273, \u2013305\n\nuniones T, ,\n\nuniones Y,\n\nusar de transici\u00f3n,\n\nUniones abocinadas, hacer,\n\nUniones de compresi\u00f3n, ,\n\nUniones de respiraderos para DWV, ,\n\nUniones de transici\u00f3n, usar,\n\nUniones T, ,\n\nUniones Y,\n\n**V**\n\nV\u00e1lvulas\n\ninstalar con tubos de suministro,\n\nreemplazar,\n\nreemplazar descarga retrete, \u2013209\n\nreemplazar llenado retrete, \u2013207\n\nrequisitos de tama\u00f1o,\n\ntipos de, ,\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de admisi\u00f3n de aire (AAVs)\n\naplicaciones comunes,\n\ngeneralidades de,\n\npara fregaderos isla,\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de bola,\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de compuerta,\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de globo,\n\nV\u00e1lvulas de retenci\u00f3n\n\ngeneralidades de, ,\n\ninstalar con tubos de suministro,\n\nDerechos Reservados \u00a9 2009  \nCreative Publishing international, Inc.  \n400 First Avenue North, Suite 300  \nMinneapolis, Minnesota 55401  \n1-800-328-3895  \nwww.creativepub.com  \nTodos los derechos reservados\n\nImpreso por R.R. Donnelley\n\nDigital edition: 978-1-61673-398-8\n\nHardcover edition: 978-1-5892-3486-4\n\nLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: (on file)  \nBiblioteca del Congreso. Informaci\u00f3n de esta publicaci\u00f3n catalogada:  \n(en archivo)\n\n_Presidente y Director_ : Ken Fund  \nVicepresidente de Ventas y Mercadeo: Kevin Hamric\n\n**Home Improvement Group**\n\n_Editor_ : Bryan Trandem  \n _Editor Administrador_ : Tracy Stanley  \n _Editor Principal_ : Mark Johanson  \n _Editor_ : Jennifer Gehlhar\n\n_Director Creativo_ : Michele Lanci-Altomare  \n _Directores de Dise\u00f1o Principales_ : Jon Simpson, Brad Springer  \n _Administrador de Dise\u00f1o_ : James Kegley\n\n_Director de Fotograf\u00eda_ : Steve Galvin  \n _Coordinador de Fotograf\u00eda_ : Joanne Wawra  \n _Director de Escenograf\u00eda_ : Bryan McLain  \n _Asistente de Escenograf\u00eda_ : Cesar Fern\u00e1ndez Rodr\u00edguez  \n _T\u00e9cnico Asesor_ : Joe Robillard\n\n_Administradores de Producci\u00f3n_ : Laura Hokkanen, Linda Halls\n\n_Dise\u00f1ador Gr\u00e1fico Art\u00edstico_ : Laura Rades, Danielle Smith  \n _Editor_ : Ruth Strother  \n _Fot\u00f3grafos_ : Andrea Rugg, Joel Schnell  \n _Ayudante de Escenograf\u00eda_ : Scott Boyd, David Hartley\n\n_Traducci\u00f3n al idioma Espa\u00f1ol_ : H\u00e9ctor Ram\u00edrez, Edgar Rojas  \n _Editor en Espa\u00f1ol_ : Mar\u00eda Teresa Rojas, Edgar Rojas  \n _Diagramaci\u00f3n_ : Edgar Rojas\n\n_La Gu\u00eda Completa sobre Plomer\u00eda_  \n _Creado por_ : Los editores de Creative Publishing International, Inc., en colaboraci\u00f3n con Black & Decker  \nBlack & Decker\u00ae es una marca registrada de Black & Decker Corporation y es usado bajo licencia.\n**AVISO A LOS LECTORES**\n\nPara una mayor seguridad, sea cuidadoso, precavido y utilice el buen sentido com\u00fan cuando siga los procedimientos descritos en este libro. La editorial y Black & Decker no pueden asumir ninguna responsabilidad por da\u00f1os causados a la propiedad ni a las personas debido al mal uso de la informaci\u00f3n aqu\u00ed presentada.\n\nLas t\u00e9cnicas mostradas en la obra son de caracter\u00edstica general para varios tipos de aplicaciones. En algunos casos, ser\u00e1 necesario el uso de t\u00e9cnicas adicionales no presentadas en el libro. Siempre siga las instrucciones de los fabricantes incluidas en los productos ya que al apartarse de las instrucciones podr\u00eda cancelar las garant\u00edas. Los proyectos a lo largo de esta obra var\u00edan seg\u00fan los niveles de conocimiento requeridos: algunos quiz\u00e1s no son apropiados para el usuario promedio, y otros pueden requerir de asistencia profesional.\n\nConsulte al departamento de construcci\u00f3n de su localidad para la informaci\u00f3n de permisos de construcci\u00f3n, c\u00f3digos, y otras normas y reglas relacionadas con su proyecto.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \nNora Roberts\n\nHot Ice\n\nSacred Sins\n\nBrazen Virtue\n\nSweet Revenge\n\nPublic Secrets\n\nGenuine Lies\n\nCarnal Innocence\n\nDivine Evil\n\nHonest Illusions\n\nPrivate Scandals\n\nHidden Riches\n\nTrue Betrayals\n\nMontana Sky\n\nSanctuary\n\nHomeport\n\nThe Reef\n\nRiver's End\n\nCarolina Moon\n\nThe Villa\n\nMidnight Bayou\n\nThree Fates\n\nBirthright\n\nNorthern Lights\n\nBlue Smoke\n\nAngels Fall\n\nHigh Noon\n\nTribute\n\nBlack Hills\n\nThe Search\n\nChasing Fire\n\nThe Witness\n\nSeries\n\nIrish Born Trilogy\n\nBorn in Fire\n\nBorn in Ice\n\nBorn in Shame\n\nDream Trilogy\n\nDaring to Dream\n\nHolding the Dream\n\nFinding the Dream\n\nChesapeake Bay Saga\n\nSea Swept\n\nRising Tides\n\nInner Harbor\n\nChesapeake Blue\n\nGallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy\n\nJewels of the Sun\n\nTears of the Moon\n\nHeart of the Sea\n\nThree Sisters Island Trilogy\n\nDance Upon the Air\n\nHeaven and Earth\n\nFace the Fire\n\nKey Trilogy\n\nKey of Light\n\nKey of Knowledge\n\nKey of Valor\n\nIn the Garden Trilogy\n\nBlue Dahlia\n\nBlack Rose\n\nRed Lily\n\nCircle Trilogy\n\nMorrigan's Cross\n\nDance of the Gods\n\nValley of Silence\n\nSign of Seven Trilogy\n\nBlood Brothers\n\nThe Hollow\n\nThe Pagan Stone\n\nBride Quartet\n\nVision in White\n\nBed of Roses\n\nSavor the Moment\n\nHappy Ever After\n\nThe Inn BoonsBoro Trilogy\n\nThe Next Always\n\nThe Last Boyfriend\n\nThe Perfect Hope\n\neBooks\n\nThe O'Hurleys\n\nThe Last Honest Woman\n\nDance to the Piper\n\nSkin Deep\n\nWithout a Trace\n\nThe Donovan Legacy\n\nCaptivated\n\nEntranced\n\nCharmed\n\nEnchanted\n\nCordina's Royal Family\n\nAffaire Royale\n\nCommand Performance\n\nThe Playboy Prince\n\nCordina's Crown Jewel\n\nThe MacGregors\n\nPlaying the Odds\n\nTempting Fate\n\nAll the Possibilities\n\nOne Man's Art\n\nFor Now, Forever\n\nThe MacGregor Brides\n\nThe Winning Hand\n\nThe MacGregor Grooms\n\nThe Perfect Neighbor\n\nRebellion & In from the Cold\n\nNight Tales\n\nNight Shift\n\nNight Shadow\n\nNightshade\n\nNight Smoke\n\nNight Shield\n\nThe Calhouns\n\nCourting Catherine\n\nA Man for Amanda\n\nFor the Love of Lilah\n\nSuzanna's Surrender\n\nMegan's Mate\n\nIrish Legacy Trilogy\n\nIrish Thoroughbred\n\nIrish Rose\n\nIrish Rebel\n\nBest Laid Plans\n\nLoving Jack\n\nLawless\n\nSummer Love\n\nBoundary Lines\n\nDual Image\n\nFirst Impressions\n\nThe Law Is a Lady\n\nLocal Hero\n\nThis Magic Moment\n\nThe Name of the Game\n\nPartners\n\nTemptation\n\nThe Welcoming\n\nOpposites Attract\n\nTime Was\n\nTimes Change\n\nGabriel's Angel\n\nHoliday Wishes\n\nThe Heart's Victory\n\nThe Right Path\n\nRules of the Game\n\nSearch for Love\n\nBlithe Images\n\nFrom This Day\n\nSong of the West\n\nIsland of Flowers\n\nUntamed\n\nHer Mother's Keeper\n\nSullivan's Woman\n\nLess of a Stranger\n\nNora Roberts & J. D. Robb\n\nRemember When\n\nJ. D. Robb\n\nNaked in Death\n\nGlory in Death\n\nImmortal in Death\n\nRapture in Death\n\nCeremony in Death\n\nVengeance in Death\n\nHoliday in Death\n\nConspiracy in Death\n\nLoyalty in Death\n\nWitness in Death\n\nJudgment in Death\n\nBetrayal in Death\n\nSeduction in Death\n\nReunion in Death\n\nPurity in Death\n\nPortrait in Death\n\nImitation in Death\n\nDivided in Death\n\nVisions in Death\n\nSurvivor in Death\n\nOrigin in Death\n\nMemory in Death\n\nBorn in Death\n\nInnocent in Death\n\nCreation in Death\n\nStrangers in Death\n\nSalvation in Death\n\nPromises in Death\n\nKindred in Death\n\nFantasy in Death\n\nIndulgence in Death\n\nTreachery in Death\n\nNew York to Dallas\n\nCelebrity in Death\n\nDelusion in Death\n\nCalculated in Death\n\nAnthologies\n\nFrom the Heart\n\nA Little Magic\n\nA Little Fate\n\nMoon Shadows\n\n(with Jill Gregory, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Marianne Willman)\n\nThe Once Upon Series\n\n(with Jill Gregory, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Marianne Willman)\n\nOnce Upon a Castle\n\nOnce Upon a Rose\n\nOnce Upon a Star\n\nOnce Upon a Kiss\n\nOnce Upon a Dream\n\nOnce Upon a Midnight\n\nSilent Night\n\n(with Susan Plunkett, Dee Holmes, and Claire Cross)\n\nOut of This World\n\n(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Susan Krinard, and Maggie Shayne)\n\nBump in the Night\n\nDead of Night\n\nThree in Death\n\nSuite 606\n\nIn Death\n\nThe Lost\n\n(with Patricia Gaffney, Mary Blayney, and Ruth Ryan Langan)\n\nThe Other Side\n\n(with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)\n\nThe Unquiet\n\n(with Mary Blayney, Patricia Gaffney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)\n\n**Also** **available** . . .\n\nThe Official Nora Roberts Companion\n\n(edited by Denise Little and Laura Hayden)\n\n****\n\n**INTERMIX BOOKS**\n\n**Published by the Penguin Group**\n\n**Penguin Group (USA) Inc.**\n\n**375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA**\n\nUSA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China\n\nPenguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England\n\nFor more information about the Penguin Group visit penguin.com\n\nThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.\n\nUNTAMED\n\nAn InterMix Book \/ published by arrangement with the author\n\nPUBLISHING HISTORY\n\nHarlequin Books edition \/ May 2010\n\nInterMix eBook edition \/ April 2013\n\nCopyright \u00a9 1983 by Nora Roberts.\n\nExcerpt from _Whiskey Beach_ copyright \u00a9 2013 by Nora Roberts.\n\nAll rights reserved.\n\nNo part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.\n\nFor information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,\n\na division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,\n\n375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.\n\nISBN: 978-1-101-59981-5\n\nINTERMIX\n\nInterMix Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group\n\nand New American Library, divisions of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,\n\n375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.\n\nINTERMIX and the \"IM\" design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.\n\n# Contents\n\n_Also by Nora Roberts_\n\n_Title Page_\n\n_Copyright_\n\n_Dedication_\n\nChapter One\n\nChapter Two\n\nChapter Three\n\nChapter Four\n\nChapter Five\n\nChapter Six\n\nChapter Seven\n\nChapter Eight\n\nChapter Nine\n\nChapter Ten\n\nChapter Eleven\n\nChapter Twelve\n\n_Special Excerpt from Whiskey Beach_\n\n_About the Author_\nFor my sons,\n\nLife's a circus.\n\nGo for it! __\n**Chapter One**\n\nAt the crack of the whip, twelve lions stood on their haunches and pawed the air. On command, they began to leap from pedestal to pedestal in a quick, close-formation, figure-eight pattern. This required split-second timing. With voice and hand commands the trainer kept the tawny, springing bodies moving.\n\n\"Well done, Pandora.\"\n\nAt her name and the signal, the muscular lioness leaped to the ground and lay down on her side. One by one the others followed suit, until, snarling and baring their teeth, they stretched across the tanbark. A male was positioned beside each female; at a sharp reproof from the trainer, Merlin ceased nibbling on Ophelia's ear.\n\n\"Heads up!\" They obeyed as the trainer walked briskly in front of them. The whip was tossed aside with a flourish, then, with apparent nonchalance, the trainer reclined lengthwise across the warm bodies. The center cat, a full-maned African, let out a great, echoing bellow. As a reward for his response to the cue, his ear was given a good scratching. The trainer rose from the feline couch, clapped hands and brought the lions to their feet. Then, with a hand signal, each was called by name and sent through the chute and into their cages. One stayed behind, a huge, black-maned cat who, like an ordinary tabby, circled and rubbed up against his trainer's legs.\n\nDeftly, a rope was attached to a chain that was hidden under his mane. Then, with swift agility, the trainer mounted the lion's back. As the door of the big cage opened, lion and rider passed through for a tour of the practice ring. When they reached the back door of the ring barn, Merlin, the obliging lion, was transferred to a wheel cage.\n\n\"Well, Duffy.\" Jo turned after the cage was secured. \"Are we ready for the road?\"\n\nDuffy was a small, round man with a monk's fringe of chestnut hair and a face that exploded with ginger freckles. His open smile and Irish blue eyes gave him the look of an aging choirboy. His mind was sharp, shrewd and scrappy. He was the best manager Prescott's Circus Colossus could have had.\n\n\"Since we open in Ocala tomorrow,\" he replied in a raspy voice, \"you'd better be ready.\" He shifted his fat cigar stump from the right side of his mouth to the left.\n\nJo merely smiled, then stretched to loosen muscles grown taut during the thirty minutes in the cage. \"My cats are ready, Duffy. It's been a long winter. They need to get back on the road as much as the rest of us.\"\n\nDuffy frowned. As circumstances had it, he stood only inches higher than his animal trainer. Widely spaced, almond-shaped eyes stared back at him. They were as sharp and green as emeralds, surrounded by thick, inky lashes. At the moment they were fearless and amused, but Duffy had seen them frightened, vulnerable and lost. He shifted his cigar again and took two quick puffs as Jo gave a cage hand instructions.\n\nHe remembered Steve Wilder, Jo's father. He had been one of the best cat men in the business. Jo was as good with the cats as Wilder had been. In some ways, Duffy acknowledged, even better. But she had the traits of her mother: delicate build; dark, passionate looks. Jolivette Wilder was as slender as her aerialist mother had been, with bold green eyes and straight, raven black hair that fell to just below her waist. Her brows were delicately arched, her nose small and straight, her cheekbones high and elegant, while her mouth was full and soft. Her skin was tawny from the Florida sun; it added to her gypsy-like appearance. Confidence added spark to the beauty.\n\nFinishing her instructions, Jo tucked her arm through Duffy's. She had seen that frown before. \"Somebody quit?\" she asked as they began to walk toward Duffy's office.\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nHis monosyllabic reply caused Jo to lift a brow. It was not often Duffy answered any question briefly. Years of experience told her to hold her tongue as they moved across the compound.\n\nRehearsals were going on everywhere. Vito the wire walker informally sharpened his act on a cable stretched between two trees. The Mendalsons called out to each other as they tossed their juggling pins high in the air, while the equestrian act led their horses into the ring barn. She saw one of the Stevenson girls walking on stilts. She'd be six now, Jo mused, tossing the hair from her eyes as she watched the young girl's wavering progress. Jo remembered the year she had been born. It had been that same year that she had been allowed to work the big cage alone. She had been sixteen, and it had been another full year before she had been permitted to work an audience.\n\nFor Jo, there had never been any home but the circus. She had been born during the winter break, had been tucked into her parents' trailer the following spring to spend her first year and each subsequent one of her life thereafter on the road. She had inherited both her fascination and her flair with animals from her father, her style and grace of movement from her mother. Though she had lost both parents fifteen years before, they continued to influence her. Their legacy to her had been a world of restlessness, a world of fantasies. She had grown up playing with lion cubs, riding elephants, wearing spangles and traveling like a gypsy.\n\nJo glanced down at a cluster of daffodils growing by the side of Prescott's winter office and smiled. She remembered planting them when she had been thirteen and in love with a tumbler. She remembered, too, the man who had stooped beside her, offering advice on bulb planting and broken hearts. As Jo thought of Frank Prescott, her smile grew sad.\n\n\"I still can't believe he's gone,\" she murmured as she and Duffy moved inside.\n\nDuffy's office was sparsely furnished with a wooden desk, metal filing cabinets and two spindly chairs. A collage of posters adorned the walls. They promised the amazing, the astounding, the incredible: elephants that danced, men who flew through the air, beautiful girls who spun by their teeth, raging tigers that rode horseback. Tumblers, clowns, lions, strong men, fat ladies, boys who could balance on their forefingers; they brought the magic of the circus into the drab little room.\n\nAs Jo glanced over at a narrow pine door, Duffy followed her gaze. \"I keep expecting him to come busting through there with some crazy new idea,\" he mumbled as he began to fiddle with his prize possession, an automatic coffeemaker.\n\n\"Do you?\" With a sigh Jo straddled a chair, then rested her chin on its back. \"We all miss him. It's not going to seem the same without him this year.\" She looked up suddenly, and her eyes were angry. \"He wasn't an old man, Duffy. Heart attacks should be for old men.\" She brooded into space, touched again with the injustice of Frank Prescott's death.\n\nHe had been barely into his fifties and full of laughter and simple kindness. Jo had loved him and trusted him without reservation. At his death she had grieved for him more acutely than she had for her own parents. In her longest memory he had been the core of her life.\n\n\"It's been nearly six months,\" Duffy said gruffly as he studied her face. When Jo glanced up, he stuck out a mug of coffee.\n\n\"I know.\" She took the mug, letting it warm her hands in the chilly March morning. Resolutely, she shook off the mood. Frank would not have wanted to leave sadness behind. Jo studied the coffee, then sipped. It was predictably dreadful. \"Rumor has it we're following last year's route to the letter. Thirteen states.\" Jo smiled, watching Duffy wince over his coffee before he downed it. \"Not superstitious, are you?\" She grinned, knowing he kept a four-leaf clover in his billfold.\n\n_\"Pah!\"_ he said indignantly, coloring under his freckles. He set down his empty cup, then moved around his desk and sat behind it. When he folded his hands on the yellow blotter, Jo knew he was getting down to business. Through the open window she could hear the band rehearsing. \"We should be in Ocala by six tomorrow,\" he began. Dutifully, Jo nodded. \"Should have the tents up before nine.\"\n\n\"The parade should be over by ten, and the matinee will start at two,\" Jo finished with a smile. \"Duffy, you're not going to ask me to work the menagerie in the sideshow again, are you?\"\n\n\"Should be a good crowd,\" he replied, adroitly skirting her question. \"Bonzo predicts clear skies.\"\n\n\"Bonzo should stick with pratfalls and unicycles.\" She watched as Duffy chewed on the stub of a now dead cigar. \"Okay,\" she said firmly, \"let's have it.\"\n\n\"Someone's going to be joining us in Ocala, at least temporarily.\" He pursed his lips as his eyes met Jo's. His were blue, faded with age. \"I don't know if he'll finish out the season with us.\"\n\n\"Oh, Duffy, not some first of mayer we have to break in this late?\" Jo demanded, using the circus term for novice. \"What is he, some energetic writer who wants an epic on the vanishing tent circus? He'll spend a few weeks as a roustabout and swear he knows all there is to know about it.\"\n\n\"I don't think he'll be working as a roustabout,\" Duffy muttered. Striking a match, he coaxed the cigar back to life. Jo frowned, watching the smoke struggle toward the ceiling.\n\n\"It's a bit late to work in a new act now, isn't it?\"\n\n\"He's not a performer.\" Duffy swore lightly under his breath, then met Jo's eyes again. \"He owns us.\"\n\nFor a moment Jo said nothing. She sat unmoving, as Duffy had seen her from time to time when she trained a young cat. \"No!\" She rose suddenly, shaking her head. \"Not him. Not now. Why does he have to come? What does he want here?\"\n\n\"It's his circus,\" Duffy reminded her. His voice was both rough and sympathetic.\n\n\"It'll never be his circus,\" Jo retorted passionately. Her eyes lit and glowed with a temper she rarely let have sway. \"It's Frank's circus.\"\n\n\"Frank's dead,\" Duffy stated in a quiet, final tone. \"Now the circus belongs to his son.\"\n\n\"Son?\" Jo countered. She lifted her fingers to press them against her temple. Slowly, she moved to the window. Outside, the sun was pouring over the heads of troupers. She watched the members of the trapeze act, in thick robes worn over their tights, head toward the ring barn. The chatter of mixed languages was so familiar she failed to notice it. She placed her palms on the window sill and with a little sigh, steadied her temper. \"What sort of son is it who never bothers to visit his father? In thirty years he never came to see Frank. He never wrote. He didn't even come to the funeral.\" Jo swallowed the tears of anger that rose to her throat and thickened her voice. \"Why should he come now?\"\n\n\"You've got to learn that life's a two-sided coin, kiddo,\" Duffy said briskly. \"You weren't even alive thirty years ago. You don't know why Frank's wife up and left him or why the boy never visited.\"\n\n\"He's not a boy, Duffy, he's a man.\" Jo turned back, and he saw that she again had herself under control. \"He's thirty-one, thirty-two years old now, a very successful attorney with a fancy Chicago office. He's very wealthy, did you know?\" A small smile played on her lips but failed to reach her eyes. \"And not just from court cases and legal fees; there's quite a lot of money on his mother's side. Nice, quiet, old money. I can't understand what a rich city lawyer would want with a tent circus.\"\n\nDuffy shrugged his broad, round shoulders. \"Could be he wants a tax shelter. Could be he wants to ride an elephant. Could be anything. He might want to take inventory and sell us off, piece by piece.\"\n\n\"Oh, Duffy, no!\" Emotion flew back into Jo's face. \"He couldn't do that.\"\n\n\"The heck he couldn't,\" Duffy muttered as he stubbed out his cigar. \"He can do as he pleases. If he wants to liquidate, he liquidates.\"\n\n\"But we have contracts through October. . . .\"\n\n\"You're too smart for that, Jo.\" Duffy frowned, scratching his rim of hair. \"He can buy them off or let them play through. He's a lawyer. He can figure the way out of a contract if he wants to. He can wait till August when we start to negotiate again and let them all lapse.\" Seeing Jo's distress, he backpedaled. \"Listen, kiddo, I didn't say he was going to sell, I said he _could._ \"\n\nJo ran a hand through her hair. \"There must be something we can do.\"\n\n\"We can show a profit by the end of the season,\" Duffy said wryly. \"We can show the new owner what we have to offer. I think it's important that he sees we're not just a mud show but a profitable three-ring circus with class acts. He should see what Frank built, how he lived, what he wanted to do. I think,\" Duffy added, watching Jo's face, \"that you should be in charge of his education.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Jo was too incredulous to be angry. \"Why? You're better qualified in the public relations department than I am. I train lions, not lawyers.\" She could not keep the hint of scorn from her voice.\n\n\"You were closer to Frank than anyone. And there isn't anyone here who knows this circus better than you.\" Again he frowned. \"And you've got brains. Never thought much use would come of all those fancy books you read, but maybe I was wrong.\"\n\n\"Duffy.\" Her lips curved into a smile. \"Just because I like to read Shakespeare doesn't mean I can deal with Keane Prescott. Even thinking about him makes me furious. How will I act when I meet him face to face?\"\n\n\"Well.\" Duffy shrugged before he pursed his lips. \"If you don't think you can handle it . . .\"\n\n\"I didn't say I _couldn't_ handle it,\" Jo muttered.\n\n\"Of course, if you're afraid . . .\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid of anything, and I'm certainly not afraid of some Chicago lawyer who doesn't know sawdust from tanbark.\" Sticking her hands in her pockets, she paced the length of the small room. \"If Keane Prescott, attorney-at-law, wants to spend his summer with the circus, I'll do my best to make it a memorable one.\"\n\n\"Nicely,\" Duffy cautioned as Jo moved to the door.\n\n\"Duffy,\" she paused and gave him an innocent smile. \"You know what a gentle touch I have.\" To prove it, Jo slammed the door behind her.\n\n***\n\nDawn was hovering over the horizon as the circus caravan drew up in a large, grassy field. Colors were just a promise in a pale gray sky. In the distance was grove upon grove of orange trees. As Jo stepped from the cab of her truck, the fragrance met her. It's a perfect day, she decided, then took a long, greedy breath. To her, there was no more beautiful sight than dawn struggling to life.\n\nThe air was vaguely chilly. She zipped up her gray sweat jacket as she watched the rest of the circus troupe pouring out of their trucks and cars and trailers. The morning quiet was soon shattered by voices. Work began immediately. As the Big Top canvas was being unrolled out of the spool truck, Jo went to see how her lions had fared the fifty-mile journey.\n\nThree handlers unloaded the traveling cages. Buck had been with Jo the longest. He had worked for her father, and during the interim between his death and Jo's professional debut, he had worked up a small act with four male lions. His shyness had made his retirement from performing a relief. To Buck, two people were a crowd. He stood six-feet-four, and his build was powerful enough for him to pad the sideshow from time to time as Hercules the Strong Man. He had an impressive head of wild blond hair and a full, curling beard. His hands were wide, with thick, strong fingers, but Jo remembered their gentleness when the two of them had delivered a lioness of a pair of cubs.\n\nPete's small frame seemed puny beside Buck's. He was of indeterminable age. Jo guessed between forty and fifty, but she was never certain. He was a quiet man with skin like polished mahogany and a rich, low-pitched voice. He had come to Jo five years before, asking for a job. She had never asked where he had come from, and he had never told her. He wore a fielder's cap and was never seen without a wad of gum moving gently in his teeth. He read Jo's books and was the undisputed king of the poker table.\n\nGerry was nineteen and eager. He was nearly six feet and still carried the lankiness of his youth. His mother sewed, and his father was a souvenir salesman, or a candy butcher, as circus jargon had it. Working the big cage was Gerry's dream, and because it had been hers, Jo had finally agreed to tutor him.\n\n\"How are my babies?\" she demanded as she approached. At each cage she paused and soothed a nervous cat, calling each by name until they had settled. \"They've traveled well. Hamlet's still edgy, but it's his first year on the road.\"\n\n\"He's a mean one,\" Buck muttered, watching Jo move from cage to cage.\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" she replied absently. \"He's smart, too.\" She had twisted her hair into one thick braid and now tossed it to her back. \"Look, here come some towners.\" A few cars and a smattering of bikes drew into the field.\n\nThese were the people from the outlying towns who wanted to see a Big Top raised, who wanted to see the circus, if only for a moment, from the other side. Some would watch while others would lend a hand with tent poles, stretching canvas and rigging. They would earn a show pass and an unforgettable experience.\n\n\"Keep them clear of the cages,\" Jo ordered, nodding to Pete before she moved toward the still flaccid canvas. Buck lumbered beside her.\n\nThe field was alive with ropes and wire and people. Six elephants were harnessed but idle, with their handlers standing by the stake line. As workers pulled on guy ropes, the dusky brown canvas billowed up like a giant mushroom.\n\nThe poles were positioned\u2014side, quarter, center\u2014while the canvas muffled the sounds of scrambling workers. In the east the sun was rising fast, streaking the sky with pink. There were shouted instructions from the head canvas man, laughter from adventuresome boys and an occasional oath. As the quarter poles were driven into the sag of canvas, Jo signaled Maggie, the large African elephant. Obligingly, Maggie lowered her trunk. Jo stepped nimbly into the _u,_ then scrambled onto the wide, gray back.\n\nThe sun grew higher by the second, shooting the first streams of light onto the field. The scent of orange blossoms mingled with the odor of leather harnesses. Jo had watched the canvas rise under a lightening sky countless times. Each time it was special, and the first raising each season was the most special of all. Maggie lifted her head and trumpeted as if pleased to be around for another season. With a laugh Jo reached back and swatted her rough, wrinkled rump. She felt free and fresh and incredibly alive. If there were a moment, she thought suddenly, that I could capture and bottle, it would be this one. Then, when I'm very old, I could take it out and feel young again. Smiling, she glanced down at the people swarming below her.\n\nHer attention was caught by a man who stood by a coil of cable. Typically, she noted his build first. A well-proportioned body was essential to a performer. He was lean and stood straight. She noted he had good shoulders but doubted if there was much muscle in his arms. Though he was dressed casually in jeans, _city_ stood out all over him. His hair was a dark, rich blond, and the early breeze had disturbed it so that it teased his forehead. He was clean-shaven, with a narrow, firm-jawed face. It was an attractive face. It was not, Jo mused, smoothly handsome like Vito the wire walker's but more aware, more demanding. Jo liked the face, liked the shape of the long, unsmiling mouth, liked the hint of bone beneath his tawny skin. Most of all she liked the directness of the amber eyes that stared back at her. They're like Ari's, she observed, thinking of her favorite lion. She was certain that he had been watching her long before she had looked down. Knowing this, Jo was impressed with his unselfconsciousness. He continued to stare, making no effort to camouflage his interest. She laughed, unperturbed, and tossed her braid from her shoulder.\n\n\"Want a ride?\" she called out. Too many strangers had walked in and out of her world for her to be aloof. She watched his brow lift in acknowledgment of her offer. She would see if it was only his eyes that were like Ari's. \"Maggie won't hurt you. She's gentle as a lamb, just bigger.\" Instantly, she saw he had understood the challenge. He walked across the grass until he stood beside her. He moved well, she noted. Jo tapped Maggie's side with the bull hook she carried. Wearily, the elephant knelt down on her trunklike front legs. Jo held out her hand. With an agility that surprised her, the man mounted the elephant and slid into place behind her.\n\nFor a moment she said nothing, a bit stunned by the trembling that had coursed up her arm as her palm had met his. The contact had been brief. Jo decided she had imagined it. \"Up, Maggie,\" she said, giving her mount another tap. With an elephantine sigh, Maggie obeyed, rocking her passengers gently from side to side.\n\n\"Do you always pick up strange men?\" the voice behind her inquired. It was a smooth, well-keyed voice, a good pitchman's voice.\n\nJo grinned over her shoulder. \"Maggie's doing the picking up.\"\n\n\"So she is. Are you aware that she's remarkably uncomfortable?\"\n\nJo laughed with genuine enjoyment. \"You should try riding her a few miles in a street parade while keeping a smile on your face.\"\n\n\"I'll pass. Are you in charge of her?\"\n\n\"Maggie? No, but I know how to handle her. You have eyes like one of my cats,\" she told him. \"I like them. And since you seemed to be interested in Maggie and me, I asked you up.\"\n\nThis time it was he who laughed. Jo twisted her head, wanting to see his face. There was humor in his eyes now, and his teeth were white and straight. Liking his smile, she answered with one of her own. \"Fascinating. You asked me to take a ride on an elephant because I have eyes like your cat's. And no offense to the lady beneath me, but I was looking at you.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Jo pursed her lips in thought. \"Why?\"\n\nFor several seconds he studied her in silence. \"Strange, I believe you really don't know.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't ask if I did,\" she returned, shifting her weight slightly. \"It would be a waste of time to ask a question if I knew the answer.\" She shifted again and turned away from him. \"Hold on now. Maggie's got to earn her bale of hay.\"\n\nThe poles hung between the canvas and the ground at forty-five degree angles. Quickly the elephant's chains were hooked to the metal rings at the base of the quarter poles. Jo urged Maggie forward in unison with her coworkers. Poles skidded along the ground, then up into place, pushing the canvas with it. The Big Top billowed to life under the early morning sky.\n\nHer job done, Maggie moved through the flaps and into the light. \"Beautiful, isn't it?\" Jo murmured. \"It's born fresh every day.\"\n\nVito walked by, calling out to Jo in Italian. Sending him a wave, she called back in his own language, then signaled to Maggie to kneel again. Jo waited until her passenger had dismounted before she slid off. It surprised her, when they stood face to face, that he was so tall. Tilting back her head, she judged him to be only two inches shy of Buck.\n\n\"You looked shorter when I was up on Maggie,\" she told him with her usual candor.\n\n\"You looked taller.\"\n\nJo chuckled, patting Maggie behind the ear. \"Will you see the show?\" She knew that she wanted him to, knew as well that she wanted to see him again. She found this both strange and intriguing. Men had always taken second place to her cats, and towners had never interested her.\n\n\"Yes, I'm going to see the show.\" There was a slight smile on his face, but he was studying her thoughtfully. \"Do you perform?\"\n\n\"I have an act with my cats.\"\n\n\"I see. Somehow I pictured you in an aerial act, flying from the trapeze.\"\n\nShe sent him an easy smile. \"My mother was an aerialist.\" Someone called her name, and looking, Jo saw Maggie was needed for raising the sideshow tent. \"I have to go. I hope you like the show.\"\n\nHe took her hand before she could lead Maggie away. Jo stood still, again surprised by a trembling up her arm. \"I'd like to see you tonight.\"\n\nGlancing up, she met his eyes. They were direct and unselfconscious. \"Why?\" The question was sincere. Jo knew she wanted to see him as well but was unsure why.\n\nThis time he did not laugh. Gently, he ran a finger down the length of her braid. \"Because you're beautiful, and you intrigue me.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Jo considered. She had never thought of herself as beautiful. Striking, perhaps, in her costume, surrounded by her cats, but in jeans, without makeup, she doubted it. Still, it was an interesting thought. \"All right, if there's no trouble with the cats. Ari hasn't been well.\"\n\nA smile played at the corners of his mouth. \"I'm sorry to hear that.\"\n\nThere was another loud summons for Jo, and both looked toward it. \"I see you're needed,\" he said with a nod. \"Perhaps you could point out Bill Duffy for me before you go.\"\n\n\"Duffy?\" Jo repeated, surprised. \"You can't be looking for a job?\" There was incredulity in her voice, and he grinned.\"\n\n\"Why can't I?\"\n\n\"Because you don't fit any of the types.\"\n\n\"Are there types?\" he asked, both interested and amused. Jo shook her head in annoyance.\n\n\"Yes, of course, and you don't fit into any of them.\"\n\n\"Actually, I'm not looking for a job, so to speak,\" he told her, still smiling. \"But I am looking for Bill Duffy.\"\n\nIt was against Jo's nature to probe. Privacy was both guarded and respected in the circus. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Jo looked around until she spotted Duffy supervising the raising of the cookhouse tent. \"There,\" she said, pointing. \"Duffy's the one with the red checked jacket. He still dresses like an outside talker.\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"You'd call it a barker, I imagine.\" With easy grace she mounted the patient Maggie. \"That's a towner's term, not a circus one.\" She smiled at him, then urged Maggie into a walk. \"Tell Duffy Jo said to give you a pass,\" she called over her shoulder, then waved and turned away.\n\nDawn was over, and it was morning. __\n**Chapter Two**\n\nJo stood at the back door of the Big Top waiting for her cue. Beside her was Jamie Carter, alias Topo. He was a third generation clown and wore his bright face and orange wig naturally. He was young and limber and used these traits as well as his makeup to bring enthusiasm to his craft. To Jo, Jamie was more brother than friend. He was tall and thin, and under his greasepaint his face was mobile and pleasant. He and Jo had grown up together.\n\n\"Did she say anything?\" Jamie demanded for the third time. With a sigh, Jo tossed closed the flap of the tent. Inside, clowns were performing around the hippodrome track while hands set up the big cage.\n\n\"Carmen said nothing. I don't know why you waste your time.\" Her voice was sharp, and Jamie bristled.\n\n\"I don't expect you to understand,\" he said with great dignity. His thin shoulders drew straight under his red polka dot shirt. \"After all, Ari's the closest you've come to being involved with the opposite sex.\"\n\n\"That's very cute,\" Jo replied, unoffended by the jibe. Her annoyance stemmed from seeing Jamie make a fool of himself over Carmen Gribalti, the middle sister of the flying Gribaltis. She was darkly beautiful, graceful, talented, selfish and sublimely indifferent to Jamie. Looking into his happy, painted face and moody eyes, Jo's irritation dissipated. \"She probably hasn't had a chance to answer the note you sent her,\" she soothed. \"The first day of a new season's always wild.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Jamie muttered with a grudging shrug. \"I don't know what she sees in Vito.\"\n\nJo thought of the wire walker's dark, cocky looks and rippling muscles. Wisely, she refrained from mentioning them. \"Who can account for taste?\" She gave him a smacking kiss on his round, red nose. \"Personally, I get all wobbly when I see a man with thick, orange hair.\"\n\nJamie grinned. \"Proves you know what to look for in a man.\"\n\nTurning, Jo lifted the flap again, noting Jamie's cue was nearly upon them. \"Did you happen to notice a towner hanging around today?\"\n\n\"Only a couple dozen of them,\" Jamie answered dryly as he lifted the pail of confetti he used to finish the gag now being performed inside.\n\nJo shot him a half-hearted glare. \"Not the usual type. About thirty, I think,\" she continued. \"Wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was tall, six-one, six-two,\" she went on as laughter poured out of the open flap to drown out her words. \"He had dark blond straight hair.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I saw him.\" Jamie nudged her out of his way and prepared to make his entrance. \"He was going into the red wagon with Duffy.\" With a wild, high-pitched scream, Topo the clown bounded into the Big Top in size fifteen tennis shoes, brandishing his bucket of confetti.\n\nThoughtfully, Jo watched Jamie chase three other clowns around the track. It was odd, she thought, for Duffy to take a towner into the administration trailer. He had said he wasn't looking for a job. He wasn't a drifter; there was an unmistakable air of stability about him. He wasn't a circus hand from another show, either. His palm had been too smooth. And, her mind added as she vaulted onto Babette, a pure white mare, there had been an undeniable aura of urbanity about him. Success, as well, she thought. And authority. No, he had not been looking for a job.\n\nJo shrugged, annoyed that a stranger was crowding into her thoughts. It irritated her further that she had scanned the crowds for him during the parade and that even now she wondered if he sat somewhere in the circular arena. He hadn't been at the matinee. Jo patted the mare's neck absently, then straightened as she heard the ringmaster's whistle.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" he called in deep, musical tones. \"Presenting the most spectacular exhibition of animal subjugation under the Big Top. Jovilette, Queen of the Jungle Cats!\"\n\nJo nudged Babette with her heels and raced into the arena. The applause rose to meet her as the audience appreciated the dashing figure she cut. Swathed in a black cape, raven hair flying free under a glittering tiara, she galloped bareback on the snow white mare. In each hand she held a long, thin whip, which she cracked alternately overhead. At the entrance to the big cage she leaped from the still racing horse. While Babette galloped out of the back door and into the care of a handler, Jo shifted both whips into one hand, then removed the cape with a flourish. Her costume was a close-fitting, one-piece jumpsuit, dazzling in white and spangled with gold sequins. In dramatic contrast, her hair hung straight and severe down her back.\n\n_Make an entrance,_ Frank had always said. And Jovilette made an entrance.\n\nThe twelve cats were already in the cage, banding its inside edge as they perched on blue and white pedestals. Entering the main cage appeared routine to the audience, but Jo knew it was one of the most dangerous moments of the act. To enter, she had to pass directly between two cats as she moved from the safety cage to the main arena. She always stationed her best behaved cats there, but if one was irritated, or even playful, he could easily strike out with a powerful paw. Even with sharp claws retracted, the damage could be deadly.\n\nShe entered swiftly and was surrounded by cats on all sides. Her spangles and tiara caught the lights and played with them as she began to move around the cage, cracking the whip for showmanship while using her voice to command the cats to rise on their haunches. She moved them through their routine, adjusting the timing to compensate for any feline reluctance, letting one trick begin where the last ended.\n\nJo disliked overdone propping, preferring action and movement. The contrast of the big, tawny cats and the small white and gold woman were the best props available to her. She used them well. Hers was a _picture act,_ relying on style and flash, rather than a _fighting act,_ which emphasized the ferocity of the big cats by employing blank-bulleted guns and rehearsed charges, or _bounces._ Her confidence transmitted itself to the audience, making her handling of the cats appear effortless. In truth, her body was coiled for any danger, and her mind was focused so intently on her cats, there might have been no audience at all.\n\nShe stood between two high pedestals as the cats leaped over her head from both directions. They set up a light breeze, which stirred her hair. They roared when she cued them, setting up an echoing din. Now and then one reached out to paw at the stock of her whip, and she stopped him with a quick command. She sent her best leaper through a hoop of flame and coaxed her best balancer to walk on a glistening silver ball. She ended to waves of applause by trotting Merlin around the hippodrome track.\n\nAt the back door Merlin jumped into a wheel cage and was turned over to Pete. \"Nice show,\" he said as he handed her a long chenille robe. \"Smooth as silk.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" Cold, she bundled into the robe. The spring night was frigid in contrast to the hot lights and heat in the big cage. \"Listen, Pete, tell Gerry he can feed the cats tonight. They're behaving themselves.\"\n\nPete snapped his gum and chuckled. \"Won't he be riding high tonight.\" As he moved to the truck that would pull the cage to the cat area, Jo called after him.\n\n\"Pete.\" She bit her lip, then shrugged when he twisted his head. \"You'll keep an eye on him, won't you?\"\n\nPete grinned and climbed into the cab of the truck. \"Who you worried about, Jo? Those big cats or that skinny boy?\"\n\n\"Both,\" she answered. The rhinestones in her tiara sparkled as she tossed her head and laughed. Knowing she had nearly an hour before the finale parade, Jo walked away from the Big Top. She thought of wandering to the cookhouse for some coffee. Mentally, she began replaying every segment of her act. It had gone well, she thought, pleased with the timing and the flow. If Pete had said it had been smooth, Jo knew it had. She had heard his criticisms more than once over the past five years. True, Hamlet had tested her once or twice, but no one knew that but Jo and the cat. She doubted if anyone but Buck would have seen that he had given her trouble. Closing her eyes a moment, Jo rolled her shoulders, loosening tight, tensed muscles.\n\n\"That's quite an act you have.\"\n\nJo whirled around at the sound of the voice. She could feel her heart rate accelerate. Though she wondered at her interest in a man she barely knew, Jo was aware that she had been waiting for him. There was a quick surge of pleasure as she watched him approach, and she allowed it to show on her face.\n\n\"Hello.\" She saw that he smoked a cigar, but unlike Duffy's, his was long and slim. Again she admired the elegance of his hands. \"Did you like the show?\"\n\nHe stopped in front of her, then studied her face with a thoroughness that made her wonder if her makeup had smeared. Then he gave a small, surprised laugh and shook his head. \"Do you know,\" he began, \"when you told me this morning that you did an act with cats, I had Siamese in mind rather than African.\"\n\n\"Siamese?\" Jo repeated blankly, then laughed. \"House cats?\" He brushed her hair behind her back while Jo giggled at the thought of coaxing a Siamese to jump through a flaming hoop.\n\n\"From my point of view,\" he told her as he let a strand of her hair linger between his fingers, \"it made more sense than a little thing like you walking into a cage with a dozen lions.\"\n\n\"I'm not little,\" Jo corrected good-naturedly. \"Besides, size hardly matters to twelve lions.\"\n\n\"No, I suppose it doesn't.\" He lifted his eyes from her hair and met hers. Jo continued to smile, enjoying looking at him. \"Why do you do it?\" he asked suddenly.\n\nJo gave him a curious look. \"Why? Because it's my job.\"\n\nBy the way he studied her, Jo could see that he was not satisfied with the simplicity of her answer. \"Perhaps I should ask _how_ you became a lion tamer.\"\n\n\"Trainer,\" Jo corrected automatically. To her left, she could hear the audience's muffled applause. \"The Beirots are starting,\" she said with a glance toward the sound. \"You shouldn't miss their act. They're first-rate acrobats.\"\n\n\"Don't you want to tell me?\" His voice was soft.\n\nShe lifted a brow, seeing that he truly wanted to know. \"Why, it's not a secret. My father was a trainer, and I have a knack for working with cats. It just followed.\" Jo had never thought about her career past this point, and she shrugged it aside. \"You shouldn't waste your ticket standing out here. You can stand by the back door and watch the rest of the act.\" Jo turned to lead the way to the performer's entrance but stopped when his hand took hers.\n\nHe stepped forward until their bodies were nearly touching. Jo could feel the heat from his as she watched his face. Her heart was thudding in a quick, steady rhythm. She could hear it vibrate through her the same way it did when she approached a new cat for the first time. Here was something new, something untested. She tingled with the excitement of the unknown when he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. She did not move but let the warmth spread while she watched him carefully, gauging him. Her eyes were wide, curious and unafraid.\n\n\"Are you going to kiss me?\" she asked in a tone that expressed more interest than desire.\n\nHis eyes lit with humor and glittered in the dim light. \"I had given it some thought,\" he answered. \"Do you have any objections?\"\n\nJo considered a moment, dropping her eyes to his mouth. She liked its shape and wondered how it would feel against hers. He brought her no closer. One hand still held hers while the other slid around to cradle her neck. Jo shifted her gaze until their eyes met again. \"No,\" she decided. \"I haven't any objections.\"\n\nThe corners of his mouth twitched as he tightened his hold slightly on the base of her neck. Slowly, he lowered his head toward hers. Curious and a bit wary, Jo kept her eyes open, watching his. She knew from experience that you could tell more about people and about cats from the eyes. To her surprise, his remained open as well, even as their lips met.\n\nIt was a gentle kiss, without pressure, only a whisper of a touch. Amazed, Jo thought she felt the ground tremble under her feet. Dimly, she wondered if the elephants were being led by. But it can't be time, she thought in confusion. His lips moved lightly over hers, and his eyes remained steady. Jo's pulse drummed under her skin. They stood, barely touching, as the Big Top throbbed with noise behind them. Lazily, he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, teasing them open. Still there was no demand in the kiss, only testing. Unhurried, confident, he explored her mouth while Jo felt her breath accelerating. A soft moan escaped her as her lids fluttered down.\n\nFor an instant she surrendered utterly to him, to the new sensations swimming through her. She leaned against him, straining toward pleasure, sighing with it as the kiss lingered.\n\nHe drew her away, but their faces remained close. Dizzily, Jo realized that she had risen to her toes to compensate for their difference in height. His hand was still light on the back of her neck. His eyes were gold in the darkening night.\n\n\"What an incredible female you are, Jovilette,\" he murmured. \"One surprise after another.\"\n\nJo felt stunningly alive. Her skin seemed to tingle with new feelings. She smiled. \"I don't know your name.\"\n\nHe laughed, releasing her neck to take her other hand in his. Before he could speak, Duffy called out from the direction of the Big Top. Jo turned to watch as he moved toward them in his quick, rolling walk.\n\n\"Well, well, well,\" he said in his jolly, rough voice. \"I didn't know you two had met. Has Jo been showing you around already?\" Reaching them, he squeezed Jo's shoulder. \"Knew I could count on you, kiddo.\" Jo glanced at him in puzzlement, but he continued before she could form a question. \"Yes, sir, this little girl puts on quite a show, doesn't she? Always a grabber. And she knows this circus like the back of her hand. Born and raised to it,\" he continued. Jo relaxed. She recognized that Duffy was into one of his spiels, and there was no stopping him. \"Yessiree, any questions you got, you just ask our Jo, and she'll tell you. 'Course, I'm always at your disposal, too. Anything I can tell you about the books or accounts or contracts and the like, you just let me know.\" Duffy puffed twice on his cigar as Jo felt her first hint of unease.\n\nWhy was Duffy rambling about books and contracts? Jo glanced at the man who still held her hands in his. He was watching Duffy with an easy, amused smile.\n\n\"Are you a bookkeeper?\" Jo asked, perplexed. Duffy laughed and patted her head.\n\n\"You know Mr. Prescott's a lawyer, Jo. Don't miss your cue.\" He gave them both a friendly nod and toddled off.\n\nJo had stiffened almost imperceptibly at Duffy's offhand information, but Keane had felt it. His brows lowered as he studied her. \"Now you know my name.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" All warmth fled from Jo. Her voice was as cool as her blood. \"Would you let go of my hands, Mr. Prescott?\"\n\nAfter a brief hesitation Keane inclined his head and obliged. Jo stuffed her hands quickly into the pockets of her robe. \"Don't you think we've progressed to the first name stage of our relationship, Jo?\"\n\n\"I assure you, Mr. Prescott, if I had known who you were, we wouldn't have progressed at all.\" Jo's words were stiff with dignity. Inside, though she tried to ignore it, she felt betrayal, anger, humiliation. All pleasure had died from the evening. Now the kiss that had left her feeling clean and alive seemed cheap and shabby. No, she would not use his first name, she vowed. She would never use it. \"If you'll excuse me, I have some things to do before my cue.\"\n\n\"Why the turnaround?\" he asked, halting her with a hand on her arm. \"Don't you like lawyers?\"\n\nColdly, Jo studied him. She wondered how it was possible that she had completely misjudged the man she had met that morning. \"I don't categorize people, Mr. Prescott.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Keane's tone became detached, his eyes assessing. \"Then it would appear that you have an aversion to my name. Should I assume you hold a grudge against my father?\"\n\nJo's eyes glittered with quick fury. She jerked her arm from his hold. \"Frank Prescott was the most generous, the kindest, most unselfish man I've ever known. I don't even associate you with Frank, Mr. Prescott. You have no right to him.\" Though it was nearly impossible, Jo forced herself to speak in a normal tone of voice. She would not shout and draw anyone's attention. This would be kept strictly between Keane Prescott and herself. \"It would have been much better if you had told me who you were right away, then there would have been no mix-up.\"\n\n\"Is that what we've had?\" he countered mildly. \"A mix-up?\"\n\nHis cool tone was nearly Jo's undoing. He watched her with a dispassionate curiosity that tempted her to slap him. She fought to keep her fury from spilling over into her voice. \"You have no right to Frank's circus, Mr. Prescott,\" she managed quietly. \"Leaving it to you is the only thing I've ever faulted him for.\" Knowing her control was slipping, Jo whirled, running across the grass until she merged with the darkness. __\n**Chapter Three**\n\nThe morning was surprisingly warm. There were no trees to block the sun, and the smell of the earth was strong. The circus had moved north in the early hours. All the usual scents merged into the aroma of circus: canvas, leather, sweating horses, greasepaint and powder, coffee and oilcloth. The trailers and trucks sat in the accustomed spots, forming the \"back yard\" that would always take the same formation each time the circus made a stop along the thousands of miles it traveled. The flag over the cookhouse tent signaled that lunch was being served. The Big Top stood waiting for the matinee.\n\nRose hurried along the midway toward the animal cages. Her dark hair was pinned neatly in a bun at the back of her neck. Her big brown eyes darted about searchingly, while her mouth sat softly in a pout. She was wrapped in a terry cloth robe and wore tennis shoes over her tights. When she saw Jo standing in front of Ari's cage, she waved and broke into a half-run. Watching her, Jo shifted her attention from Ari. Rose was always a diversion, and Jo felt in need of one.\n\n\"Jo!\" She waved again as if Jo had not seen her the first time, then came to a breathless halt. \"Jo, I only have a few minutes. Hello, Ari,\" she added out of politeness. \"I was looking for Jamie.\"\n\n\"Yes, I gathered.\" Jo smiled, knowing Rose had set her heart on capturing Topo's alter ego. And if he had any sense, she thought, he'd let himself be caught instead of pining over Carmen. Silly, she decided, dismissing all affairs of the heart. Lions were easier to understand. \"I haven't seen him all morning, Rose. Maybe he's rehearsing.\"\n\n\"Drooling over Carmen, more likely,\" Rose muttered, sending a sulky glare in the direction of the Gribalti trailer. \"He makes a fool of himself.\"\n\n\"That's what he's paid for,\" Jo reminded her, but Rose did not respond to the humor. Jo sighed. She had a true affection for Rose. She was bright and fun and without pretensions. \"Rose,\" she said, keeping her voice both light and kind. \"Don't give up on him. He's a little slow, you know,\" she explained. \"He's just a bit dazzled by Carmen right now. It'll pass.\"\n\n\"I don't know why I bother,\" she grumbled, but Jo saw the dark mood was already passing. Rose was a creature of quick passions that flared and soon died. \"He's not so very handsome, you know.\"\n\n\"No,\" Jo agreed. \"But he has a cute nose.\"\n\n\"Lucky for him I like red,\" Rose returned and grinned. \"Ah, now we're speaking of handsome,\" she murmured as her eyes drifted from Jo. \"Who is this?\"\n\nAt the question, Jo glanced over her shoulder. The humor fled from her eyes. \"That's the owner,\" she said colorlessly.\n\n\"Keane Prescott? No one told me he was so handsome. Or so tall,\" she added, admiring him openly as he crossed the back yard. Jo noted that Rose always became more Mexican around men. \"Such shoulders. Lucky for Jamie I'm a one-man woman.\"\n\n\"Lucky for you your mama can't hear you,\" Jo muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs.\n\n\"But he comes here, _amiga,_ and he looks at you. La, la, my papa would have Jamie to the altar _pronto_ if he looked at me that way.\"\n\n\"You're an idiot,\" Jo snapped, annoyed.\n\n\"Ah, Jo,\" Rose said with mock despair. \"I am a romantic.\"\n\nJo was helpless against the smile that tugged at her lips. Her eyes were laughing when she glanced up and met Keane's. Hastily, she struggled to dampen their brilliance, turning her mouth into a sober line.\n\n\"Good morning, Jovilette.\" He spoke her name too easily, she thought, as if he had been saying it for years.\n\n\"Good morning, Mr. Prescott,\" she returned. Rose gave a loud, none-too-subtle cough. \"This is Rose Sanches.\"\n\n\"It's a pleasure, Mr. Prescott.\" Rose extended a hand, trying out a smile she had been saving for Jamie. \"I heard you were traveling with us.\"\n\nKeane accepted the hand and smiled in return. Jo noticed with annoyance that it was the same easy, disarming smile of the stranger she had met the morning before. \"Hello, Rose, it's nice to meet you.\"\n\nSeeing her friend's Mexican blood heat her cheeks, Jo intervened. She would not permit Keane Prescott to make a conquest here. \"Rose, you only have ten minutes to get back and into makeup.\"\n\n\"Holy cow!\" she said, forgetting her attempt at sophistication. \"I've got to run.\" She began to do so, then called over her shoulder, \"Don't tell Jamie I was looking for him, the pig!\" She ran a little further, then turned and ran backwards. \"I'll look for him later,\" she said with a laugh, then turned back and streaked toward the midway.\n\nKeane watched her dart across the compound while holding up the long skirts of her robe in one hand. \"Charming.\"\n\n\"She's only eighteen,\" Jo offered before she could stop herself.\n\nWhen Keane turned to her, his look was one of amusement. \"I see,\" he said. \"I'll take that information under advisement. And what does the eighteen-year-old Rose do?\" he asked, slipping his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. \"Wrestle alligators?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jo returned without batting an eye. \"Rose is Serpentina, your premier sideshow attraction. The snake charmer.\" She was pleased with the incredulous look that passed over his face. It was replaced quickly, however, with one of genuine humor.\n\n\"Perfect.\" He brushed Jo's hair from her cheek before she could protest by word or action. \"Cobras?\" he asked, ignoring the flash in her eyes.\n\n\"And boa constrictors,\" she returned sweetly. Jo brushed the dust from the knees of her faded jeans. \"Now, if you'll excuse me . . .\"\n\n\"No, I don't think so.\" Keane's voice was cool, but she recognized the underlying authority. She did her best not to struggle against it. He _was_ the owner, she reminded herself.\n\n\"Mr. Prescott,\" she began, banking down hard on the urge to mutiny. \"I'm very busy. I have to get ready for the afternoon show.\"\n\n\"You've got an hour and a half until you're on,\" he countered smoothly. \"I think you might spare me a portion of that time. You've been assigned to show me around. Why don't we start now?\" The tone of the question left room for only one answer. Jo's mind fidgeted in search of a way out.\n\nTilting her head back, she met his eyes. He won't be easy to beat, she concluded, studying his steady, measuring gaze. I'd better study his moves more carefully before I start a battle. \"Where would you like to begin?\" she asked aloud.\n\n\"With you.\"\n\nKeane's easy answer brought a deep frown to Jo's brows. \"I don't understand what you mean.\"\n\nFor a moment Keane watched her. There was no coyness or guile in her eyes as they looked into his. \"No, I can see you don't,\" he agreed with a nod. \"Let's start with your cats.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Jo's frown cleared instantly. \"All right.\" She watched as he pulled out a thin cigar, waiting until the flame of his lighter licked the tip before speaking. \"I have thirteen\u2014seven males, six females. They're all African lions between four-and-a-half and twenty-two years.\"\n\n\"I thought you worked with twelve,\" Keane commented as he dropped his lighter into his pocket.\n\n\"That's right, but Ari's retired.\" Turning, Jo indicated the large male lion dozing in a cage. \"He travels with me because he always has, but I don't work him anymore. He's twenty-two, the oldest. My father kept him, even though he was born in captivity, because he was born the same day I was.\" Jo sighed, and her voice became softer. \"He's the last of my father's stock. I couldn't sell him to a zoo. It seemed like shoving an old relative into a home and abandoning him. He's been with this circus every day of his life, just as I have. His name is Hebrew for _lion.\"_ Jo laughed, forgetting the man beside her as she sifted through memories. \"My father always gave his cats names that meant lion somehow or other. Leo, Leonard, Leonara. Ari was a first-class leaper in his prime. He could climb, too; some cats won't. I could teach Ari anything. Smart cat, aren't you, Ari?\" The altered tone of her voice caused the big cat to stir. Opening his eyes, he stared back at Jo. The sound he made was more grumble than roar before he dozed again. \"He's tired,\" Jo murmured, fighting a shaft of gloom. \"Twenty-two's old for a lion.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Keane demanded, touching her shoulder before she could turn away. Her eyes were drenched with sadness.\n\n\"He's dying,\" she said unsteadily. \"And I can't stop it.\" Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Jo moved away to the main group of cages. To steady herself, she took two deep breaths while waiting for Keane to join her. Regaining her composure, she began again. \"I work with these twelve,\" she told him, making a sweeping gesture. \"They're fed once a day, raw meat six days a week and eggs and milk on the seventh. They were all imported directly from Africa and were cage-broken when I got them.\"\n\nThe faint sound of a calliope reached them, signaling the opening of the midway. \"This is Merlin, the one I ride out on at the finish. He's ten, and the most even-tempered cat I've ever worked with. Heathcliff,\" she continued as she moved down the line of cages, \"he's six, my best leaper. And this is Faust, the baby at four and a half.\" The lions paced their cages as Jo walked Keane down the line. Unable to prevent herself, Jo gave Faust a signal by raising her hand. Obediently, he sent out a huge, deafening roar. To Jo's disappointment, Keane did not scramble for cover.\n\n\"Very impressive,\" he said mildly. \"You put him in the center when you lie down on them, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She frowned, then spoke her thoughts candidly. \"You're very observant\u2014and you've got steady nerves.\"\n\n\"My profession requires them, too, to an extent,\" he returned.\n\nJo considered this a moment, then turned back to the lions. \"Lazareth, he's twelve and a natural ham. Bolingbroke, he's ten, from the same lioness as Merlin. Hamlet,\" she said stopping again, \"he's five. I bought him to replace Ari in the act.\" Jo stared into the tawny eyes. \"He has potential, but he's arrogant. Patient, too. He's just waiting for me to make a mistake.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Keane glanced over at Jo. Her eyes were cool and steady on Hamlet's.\n\n\"So he can get a good clean swipe at me,\" she told him without altering her expression. \"It's his first season in the big cage. Pandora,\" Jo continued, pointing out the females. \"A very classy lady. She's six. Hester, at seven, my best all-around. And Portia; it's her first year, too. She's mostly a seat-warmer.\"\n\n\"Seat-warmer?\"\n\n\"Just what it sounds like,\" Jo explained. \"She hasn't mastered any complicated tricks yet. She evens out the act, does a few basics and warms the seat.\" Jo moved on. \"Dulcinea, the prettiest of the ladies. Ophelia, who had a litter last year; and Abra, eight, a bit bad-tempered but a good balancer.\"\n\nHearing her name, the cat rose, stretched her long, golden body, then began to rub it against the bars of the cage. A deep sound rumbled in her throat. Jo scowled and jammed her hands into her pockets. \"She likes you,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Oh?\" Lifting a brow, Keane studied the three-hundred-pound Abra more carefully. \"How do you know?\"\n\n\"When a lion likes you, it does exactly what a house cat does. It rubs against you. Abra's rubbing against the bars because she can't get any closer.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Humor touched his mouth. \"I must admit, I'm at a loss on how to return the compliment.\" He drew on his cigar, then regarded Jo through a haze of smoke. \"Your choice of names is fascinating.\"\n\n\"I like to read,\" she stated, leaving it at that. \"Is there anything else you'd like to know about the cats?\" Jo was determined to keep their conversation on a professional level. His smile had reminded her all too clearly of their encounter the night before.\n\n\"Do you drug them before a performance?\"\n\nFury sparked Jo's eyes. \"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"Was that an unreasonable question?\" Keane countered. He dropped his cigar to the ground, then crushed it out with his heel.\n\n\"Not for a first of mayer,\" Jo decided with a sigh. She tossed her hair carelessly behind her back. \"Drugging is not only cruel, it's stupid. A drugged animal won't perform.\"\n\n\"You don't touch the lions with that whip,\" Keane commented. He watched the light breeze tease a few strands of her hair. \"Why do you use it?\"\n\n\"To get their attention and to keep the audience awake.\" She smiled reluctantly.\n\nKeane took her arm. Instantly, Jo stiffened. \"Let's walk,\" he suggested. He began to lead her away from the cages. Spotting several people roaming the back yard, Jo refrained from pulling away. The last thing she wanted was the story spreading that she was having a tiff with the owner. \"How do you tame them?\" he asked her.\n\n\"I don't. They're not tame, they're trained.\" A tall blond woman walked by carrying a tiny white poodle. \"Merlin's hungry today,\" Jo called out with a grin.\n\nThe woman bundled the dog closer to her breast in mock alarm and began a rapid scolding in French. Jo laughed, telling her in the same language that Fifi was too tough a mouthful for Merlin.\n\n\"Fifi can do a double somersault on the back of a moving horse,\" Jo explained as they began to walk again. \"She's trained just as my cats are trained, but she's also domesticated. The cats are wild.\" Jo turned her face up to Keane's. The sun cast a sheen over her hair and threw gold flecks into her eyes. \"A wild thing can never be tamed, and anyone who tries is foolish. If you take something wild and turn it into a pet, you've stolen its character, blanked out its spark. And still, there's always an essence of the wild that can come back to life. When a dog turns on his master, it's ugly. When a lion turns, it's lethal.\" She was beginning to become accustomed to his hand on her arm, finding it easy to talk to him because he listened. \"A full-grown male stands three feet at the shoulder and weighs over five hundred pounds. One well-directed swipe can break a man's neck, not to mention what teeth and claws can do.\" Jo gave a smile and a shrug. \"Those aren't the virtues of a pet.\"\n\n\"Yet you go into a cage with twelve of them, armed with a whip?\"\n\n\"The whip's window dressing.\" Jo discounted it with a gesture of her hand. \"It would hardly be a defense against even one cat at full charge. A lion is a very tenacious enemy. A tiger is more bloodthirsty, but it normally strikes only once. If it misses, it takes it philosophically. A lion charges again and again. Do you know the line Byron wrote about a tiger's spring? 'Deadly, quick and crushing.'\" Jo had completely forgotten her animosity and began to enjoy her walk and conversation with this handsome stranger. \"It's a true description, but a lion is totally fearless when he charges, and stubborn. He's not the razzle-dazzle fighter the tiger is, just accurate. I'd bet on a lion against a tiger any day. And a man simply hasn't a prayer against one.\"\n\n\"Then how do you manage to stay in one piece?\"\n\nThe calliope music was just a hint in the air now. Jo turned, noting with surprise that they had walked a good distance from camp. She could see the trailers and tents, hear occasional shouts and laughter, but she felt oddly separated from it all. She sat down cross-legged on the grass and plucked a blade. \"I'm smarter than they are. At least I make them think so. And I dominate them, partly by a force of will. In training, you have to develop a rapport, a mutual respect, and if you're lucky, a certain affection. But you can't trust them to the point where you grow careless. And above all,\" she added, glancing over as he sat down beside her, \"you have to remember the basic rule of poker. Bluff.\" Jo grinned, leaning back on her elbows. \"Do you play poker?\"\n\n\"I've been known to.\" Her hair trailed out along the grass, and he lifted a strand. \"Do you?\"\n\n\"Sometimes. My assistant handler, Pete . . .\" Jo scanned the back yard, then smiled and pointed. \"There he is, by the second trailer, sitting with Mac Stevenson, the one with the fielder's cap. Pete organizes a game now and then.\"\n\n\"Who's the little girl on stilts?\"\n\n\"That's Mac's youngest, Katie. She wants to walk on them in the street parade. She's getting pretty good. There's Jamie,\" she said, then laughed as he did a pratfall and landed at Katie's wooden stilts.\n\n\"Rose's Jamie?\" Keane asked, watching the impromptu show in the back yard.\n\n\"If she has her way. He's currently dazzled by Carmen Gribalti. Carmen won't give Jamie the time of day. She bats her lashes at Vito, the wire walker. He bats his at everyone.\"\n\n\"A complicated state of affairs,\" Keane commented. He twisted Jo's hair around his fingers. \"Romance seems to be very popular in circus life.\"\n\n\"From what I read,\" she countered, \"it's popular everywhere.\"\n\n\"Who dazzles you, Jovilette?\" He gave her hair a tug to bring her face around to his.\n\nJo hadn't realized he was so close. She need do no more than sway for her mouth to touch his. Her eyes measured his while she waited for her pulse to calm. It was odd, she thought, that he had such an effect on her. With sudden clarity, she could smell the grass, a clean, sweet scent, and feel the sun. The sounds of the circus were muted in the background. She could hear birds call out with an occasional high-pitched trill. She remembered the taste of his mouth and wondered if it would be the same.\n\n\"I've been too busy to be dazzled,\" she replied. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were curious.\n\nFor the first time, Jo truly _wanted_ to be kissed by a man. She wanted to feel again what she had felt the night before. She wanted to be held, not lightly as he had held her before, but close, with his arms tight around her. She wanted to renew the feeling of weightlessness. She had never experienced a strong physical desire, and for a moment she explored the sensation. There was a quiver in her stomach which was both pleasant and disturbing. Throughout her silent contemplations Keane watched her, intrigued by the intensity of her eyes.\n\n\"What are you thinking of?\"\n\n\"I'm wondering why you make me feel so odd,\" she told him with simple frankness. He smiled, and she noticed that it grew in his eyes seconds before it grew on his mouth.\n\n\"Do I?\" He appeared to enjoy the information. \"Did you know your hair catches the sunlight?\" Keane took a handful, letting it spill from between his fingers. \"I've never seen another woman with hair like this. It's a temptation all in itself. In what way do I make you feel odd, Jovilette?\" he asked as his eyes trailed back up to hers.\n\n\"I'm not sure yet.\" Jo found her voice husky. Abruptly, she decided it would not do to go on feeling odd or to go on wanting to be kissed by Keane Prescott. She scrambled up and brushed off the seat of her pants.\n\n\"Running away?\" As Keane rose, Jo's head snapped up.\n\n\"I never run away from anything, Mr. Prescott.\" Ice sharpened her voice. She was annoyed that she had allowed herself to fall under his charm again. \"I certainly won't run from a city-bred lawyer.\" Her words were laced with scorn. \"Why don't you go back to Chicago and get someone thrown in jail?\"\n\n\"I'm a defense attorney,\" Keane countered easily. \"I get people out of jail.\"\n\n\"Fine. Go put a criminal back on the streets, then.\"\n\nKeane laughed, bringing Jo's temper even closer to the surface. \"That covers both sides of the issue, doesn't it? You dazzle me, Jovilette.\"\n\n\"Well, it's strictly unintentional.\" She took a step back from the amusement in his eyes. She would not tolerate him making fun of her. \"You don't belong here,\" she blurted out. \"You have no business here.\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" he disagreed in a cool, untroubled voice. \"I have every business here. I own this circus.\"\n\n\"Why?\" she demanded, throwing out her hands as if to push his words aside. \"Because it says so on a piece of paper? That's all lawyers understand, I imagine\u2014pieces of paper with strange little words. Why did you come? To look us over and calculate the profit and loss? What's the liquidation value of a dream, Mr. Prescott? What price do you put on the human spirit? Look at it!\" she demanded, swinging her arm to encompass the lot behind them. \"You only see tents and a huddle of trailers. You can't possibly understand what it all means. But Frank understood. He loved it.\"\n\n\"I'm aware of that.\" Keane's voice was still calm but had taken on a thin edge of steel. Jo saw that his eyes had grown dark and guarded. \"He also left it to me.\"\n\n\"I don't understand why.\" In frustration, Jo stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned away.\n\n\"Neither do I, I assure you, but the fact remains that he did.\"\n\n\"Not once in thirty years did you visit him.\" Jo whirled back around. Her hair followed in a passionate arch. \"Not once.\"\n\n\"Quite true,\" Keane agreed. He stood with his weight even on both legs and watched her. \"Of course, some might look at it differently. Not once in thirty years did he visit me.\"\n\n\"Your mother left him and took you to Chicago\u2014\"\n\n\"I won't discuss my mother,\" Keane interrupted in a tone of clipped finality.\n\nJo bit off a retort, spinning away from him again. Still she could not find the reins to her control. \"What are you going to do with it?\" she demanded.\n\n\"That's my business.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Jo spun back, then shut her eyes and muttered in a language he failed to understand. \"Can you be so arrogant? Can you be so dispassionate?\" Her lashes fluttered up, revealing eyes dark with anger. \"Do the lives of all those people mean nothing to you? Does Frank's dream mean nothing? Haven't you enough money already without hurting people to get more? Greed isn't something you inherited from Frank.\"\n\n\"I'll only be pushed so far,\" Keane warned.\n\n\"I'd push you all the way back to Chicago if I could manage it,\" she snapped.\n\n\"I wondered how much of a temper there was behind those sharp green eyes,\" Keane commented, watching her passion pour color into her cheeks. \"It appears it's a full-grown one.\" Jo started to retort, but Keane cut her off. \"Just hold on a minute,\" he ordered. \"With or without your approval, I own this circus. It might be easier for you if you adjusted to that. Be quiet,\" he added when her mouth opened again. \"Legally, I can do with my\u2014\" he hesitated a moment, then continued in a mordant tone \"\u2014inheritance as I choose. I have no obligation or intention of justifying my decision to you.\"\n\nJo dug her nails into her palms to help keep her voice from shaking. \"I never knew I could grow to dislike someone so quickly.\"\n\n\"Jovilette.\" Keane dipped his hands into his pockets, then rocked back on his heels. \"You disliked me before you ever saw me.\n\n\"That's true,\" she replied evenly. \"But I've learned to dislike you in person in less than twenty-four hours. I have a show to do,\" she said, turning back toward the lot. Though he did not follow, she felt his eyes on her until she reached her trailer and closed the door behind her.\n\n***\n\nThirty minutes later Jamie sprang through the back door of the Big Top. He was breathless after a lengthy routine and hooked one hand through his purple suspenders as he took in gulps of air. He spotted Jo standing beside the white mare. Her eyes were dark and stormy, her shoulders set and rigid. Jamie recognized the signs. Something or someone had put Jo in a temper, and she had barely ten minutes to work her way out of it before her cue.\n\nHe crossed to her and gave a tug on her hair. \"Hey.\"\n\n\"Hello, Jamie.\" Jo struggled to keep her voice pleasant, but he heard the traces of emotion.\n\n\"Hello, Jo,\" he replied in precisely the same tone.\n\n\"Cut it out,\" she ordered before taking a few steps away. The mare followed docilely. Jo had been trying for some time to put her emotions back into some semblance of order. She was not succeeding.\n\n\"What happened?\" Jamie asked from directly behind her.\n\n\"Nothing,\" Jo snapped, then hated herself for the short nastiness of the word.\n\nJamie persisted, knowing her too well to be offended. \"Nothing is one of my favorite topics of conversation.\" He put his hands on her shoulders, ignoring her quick, bad-tempered jerk. \"Let's talk about it.\"\n\n\"There's nothing to talk about.\"\n\n\"Exactly.\" He began massaging the tension in her shoulders with his white gloved hands.\n\n\"Oh, Jamie.\" His good-heartedness was irresistible. Sighing, she allowed herself to be soothed. \"You're an idiot.\"\n\n\"I'm not here to be flattered.\"\n\n\"I had an argument with the owner.\" Jo let out a long breath and shut her eyes.\n\n\"What're you doing having arguments with the owner?\"\n\n\"He infuriates me.\" Jo whirled around. Her cape whipped and snapped with the movement. \"He shouldn't be here. If he were back in Chicago . . .\"\n\n\"Hold it.\" With a slight shake of her shoulders, Jamie halted Jo's outburst. \"You know better than to get yourself worked up like this right before a show. You can't afford to have your mind on anything but what you're doing when you're in that cage.\"\n\n\"I'll be all right,\" she mumbled.\n\n\"Jo.\" There was censure in his voice mixed with affection and exasperation.\n\nReluctantly, Jo brought her gaze up to his. It was impossible to resist the grave eyes in the brightly painted face. With something between a sigh and a moan, she dropped her forehead to his chest. \"Jamie, he makes me so mad! He could ruin everything.\"\n\n\"Let's worry about it when the time comes,\" Jamie suggested, patting her hair.\n\n\"But he doesn't understand us. He doesn't understand anything.\"\n\n\"Well, then it's up to us to make him understand, isn't it?\"\n\nJo looked up and wrinkled her nose. \"You're so logical.\"\n\n\"Of course I am,\" he agreed and struck a pose. As he wiggled his orange eyebrows, Jo laughed. \"Okay?\" he asked, then picked up his prop bucket.\n\n\"Okay,\" she agreed and smiled.\n\n\"Good, 'cause there's my cue.\"\n\nWhen he disappeared behind the flap, Jo leaned her cheek against the mare and nuzzled a moment. \"I don't think I'm the one to make him understand, though.\"\n\nI wish he'd never come, she added silently as she vaulted onto the mare's back. I wish I'd never noticed how his eyes are like Ari's and how nice his mouth is when he smiles, she thought. Jo ran the tip of her tongue gingerly over her lips. I wish he'd never kissed me. _Liar._ Her conscience spoke softly in her ear: _Admit it, you're glad he kissed you. You've never felt anything like that before, and no matter what, you're glad he kissed you last night. You even wanted him to kiss you again today._\n\nShe forced her mind clear, taking deep, even breaths until she heard the ringmaster announce her. With a flick of her heels, she sent the mare sprinting into the tent.\n\nIt did not go well. The audience cheered her, oblivious to any problem, but Jo was aware that the routine was far from smooth. And the cats sensed her preoccupation. Again and again they tested her, and again and again Jo was forced to alter her timing to compensate. When the act was over, her head throbbed from the strain of concentration. Her hands were clammy as she turned Merlin over to Buck.\n\nThe big man came back to her after securing the cage. \"What's the matter with you?\" he demanded without preamble. By the underlying and very rare anger in his voice, Jo knew he had observed at least a portion of her act. Unlike the audience, Buck would note any deviation. \"You go in the cage like that again, one of those cats is going to find out what you taste like.\"\n\n\"My timing was a little off, that's all.\" Jo fought against the trembling in her stomach and tried to sound casual.\n\n\"A little?\" Buck glowered, looking formidable behind the mass of blond beard. \"Who do you think you're fooling? I've been around these ugly cats since before you were born. When you go in the cage, you've got to take your brain in with you.\"\n\nOnly too aware that he was right, Jo conceded. \"I know, Buck. You're right.\" With a weary hand she pushed back her hair. \"It won't happen again. I guess I was tired and a little off-balance.\" She sent him an apologetic smile.\n\nBuck frowned and shuffled. Never in his forty-five years had he managed to resist feminine smiles. \"All right,\" he muttered, then sniffed and made his voice firm. \"But you go take a nap right after the finale. No coffee. I don't want to see you around again until dinner time.\"\n\n\"Okay, Buck.\" Jo kept her voice humble, though she was tempted to grin. The weakness was going out of her legs, and the dull buzz of fear was fading from between her temples. Still she felt exhausted and agreeable to Buck's uncharacteristic tone of command. A nap, she decided as Buck drove Merlin away, was just what she needed, not to mention that it was as good a way as any to avoid Keane Prescott for the rest of the day. Shooing this thought aside, Jo decided to while away the time until the finale in casual conversation with Vito the wire walker. __\n**Chapter Four**\n\nIt rained for three days. It was a solid downpour, not heavy but insistent. As the circus wound its way north, the rain followed. Nevertheless, canvas men pitched the tents in soggy fields and muddy lots while straw was laid on the hippodrome track and performers scurried from trailers to tents under dripping umbrellas.\n\nThe lot near Waycross, Georgia, was scattered with puddles under a thick, gray sky. Jo could only be grateful that no evening show had been scheduled. By six, it was nearly dark, with a chill teasing the damp air. She hustled from the cookhouse after an early supper. She would check on the cats, she decided, then closet herself in her trailer, draw the curtains against the rain and curl up with a book. Shivering, she concluded that the idea was inspired.\n\nShe carried no umbrella but sought questionable shelter under a gray rolled-brimmed hat and thin windbreaker. Keeping her head lowered, she jogged across the mud, skimming around or hopping over puddles. She hummed lightly, anticipating the simple pleasures of an idle evening. Her humming ended in a muffled gasp as she ran into a solid object. Fingers wrapped around her upper arms. Even before she lifted her head, Jo knew it was Keane who held her. She recognized his touch. Through some clever maneuvering, she had managed to avoid being alone with him since they had walked together and looked back on the circus.\n\n\"Excuse me, Mr. Prescott. I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going.\"\n\n\"Perhaps the weather's dampened your radar, Jovilette.\" He made no move to release her. Annoyed, Jo was forced to hold her hat steady with one hand as she tilted her head to meet his eyes. Rain fell cool on her face.\n\n\"I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"Oh, I think you do,\" Keane countered. \"There's not another soul around. You've been careful to keep yourself in a crowd for days.\"\n\nJo blinked rain from her lashes. She admitted ruefully that it had been foolish to suppose he wouldn't notice her ploy. She saw he carried no umbrella either, nor did he bother with a hat. His hair was darkened with rain, much the same color that one of her cats would be if caught in an unexpected shower. It was difficult, in the murky light, to clearly make out his features, but the rain could not disguise his mockery.\n\n\"That's an interesting observation, Mr. Prescott,\" Jo said coolly. \"Now, if you don't mind, I'm getting wet.\" She was surprised when she remained in his hold after a strong attempt on her part to pull away. Frowning, she put both hands against his chest and pushed. She discovered that she had been wrong; under the lean frame was an amazing amount of strength. Infuriated that she had misjudged him and that she was outmatched, Jo raised her eyes again. \"Let me go,\" she demanded between clenched teeth.\n\n\"No,\" Keane returned mildly. \"I don't believe I will.\"\n\nJo glared at him. \"Mr. Prescott, I'm cold and wet and I'd like to go to my trailer. Now, what do you want?\"\n\n\"First, I want you to stop calling me Mr. Prescott.\" Jo pouted but she kept silent. \"Second, I'd like an hour of your time for going over a list of personnel.\" He paused. Through her wind-breaker Jo could feel his fingers unyielding on her arms.\n\n\"Is there anything else?\" she demanded, trying to sound bored.\n\nFor a moment there was only the sound of rain drumming on the ground and splashing into puddles. \"Yes,\" Keane said quietly. \"I think I'll just get this out of my system.\"\n\nJo's instincts were swift but they were standing too close for her to evade him. And he was quick. Her protest was muffled against his mouth. Her arms were pinioned to her sides as his locked around her. Jo had felt a man's body against her own before\u2014working out with the tumblers, practicing with the equestrians\u2014but never with such clarity as this. She was aware of Keane in every fiber of her being. His body was whipcord lean and hard, his arms holding the strength she had discounted the first time she had seen him. But more, it was his mouth that mystified her. Now it was not gentle or testing; it took and plundered and demanded more before she could withhold a response.\n\nJo forgot the rain, though it continued to fall against her face. She forgot the cold. The warmth spread from inside, where her blood flowed fast, as her body was molded to Keane's. She forgot herself, or the woman she had thought herself to be, and discovered another. When he lifted his mouth, Jo kept her eyes closed, savoring the lingering pleasures, inviting fresh ones.\n\n\"More?\" he murmured as his hand trailed up, then down her spine. Heat raced after it. \"Kissing can be a dangerous pastime, Jo.\" He lowered his mouth again, then nipped at her soft bottom lip. \"But you know all about danger, don't you?\" He kissed her hard, leaving her breathless. \"How courageous are you without your cats?\"\n\nSuddenly her heart raced to her throat. Her legs became rubbery, and a tingle sprinted up her spine. Jo recognized the feeling. It was the way she felt when she experienced a close call with the cats. Reaction would set in after the door of the safety cage locked behind her and the crisis had passed. It was then that fear found her. She studied Keane's bold, amber eyes, and her mouth went dry. She shuddered.\n\n\"You're cold.\" His voice was abruptly brisk. \"Small wonder. We'll go to my trailer and get you some coffee.\"\n\n\"No!\" Jo's protest was sharp and instantaneous. She knew she was vulnerable and she knew as well that she did not yet possess the experience to fight him. To be alone with him now was too great a risk.\n\nKeane drew her away, but his grip remained firm. She could not read his expression as he searched her face. \"What happened just now was personal,\" he told her. \"Strictly man to woman. I'm of the opinion that lovemaking should be personal. You're an appealing armful, Jovilette, and I'm accustomed to taking what I want, one way or another.\"\n\nHis words were like a shot of adrenaline. Jo's chin thrust forward, and her eyes flamed. \"No one _takes_ me, one way or another.\" She spoke with the deadly calm of fury. \"If I make love with anyone, it's only because I want to.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Keane agreed with an easy nod. \"We're both aware you'll be willing when the time comes. We could make love quite successfully tonight, but I think it best if we know each other better first.\"\n\nJo's mouth trembled open and closed twice before she could speak. \"Of all the arrogant, outrageous . . .\"\n\n\"Truthful,\" Keane supplied, tossing her into incoherency again. \"But for now, we have business, and while I don't mind kissing in the rain, I prefer to conduct business in a drier climate.\" He held up a hand as Jo started to protest. \"I told you, the kiss was between a man and a woman. The business we have now is between the owner of this circus and a performer under contract. Understood?\"\n\nJo took a long, deep breath to bring her voice to a normal level. \"Understood,\" she agreed. Without another word she let him lead her across the slippery lot.\n\nWhen they reached Keane's trailer, he hustled Jo inside without preliminaries. She blinked against the change in light when he hit the wall switch. \"Take off your coat,\" he said briskly, pulling down her zipper before she could perform the task for herself. Instinctively, her hand reached for it as she took a step backward. Keane merely lifted a brow, then stripped off his own jacket. \"I'll get the coffee.\" He moved down the length of the narrow trailer and disappeared around the corner where the tiny kitchen was set.\n\nSlowly, Jo pulled off her dripping hat, letting her hair tumble free from where it had been piled under its confinement. With automatic movements she hung both her hat and coat on the hooks by the trailer door. It had been almost six months since she had stood in Frank's trailer, and like a woman visiting an old friend, she searched for changes.\n\nThe same faded lampshade adorned the maple table lamp that Frank had used for reading. The shade sat straight now, however, not at its usual slightly askew angle. The pillow that Lillie from wardrobe had sewn for him on some long-ago Christmas still sat over the small burn hole in the seat cushion of the couch. Jo doubted that Keane knew of the hole's existence. Frank's pipe stand sat, as always, on the counter by the side window. Unable to resist, Jo crossed over to run her finger over the worn bowl of his favorite pipe.\n\n\"Never could pack it right,\" she murmured to his well-loved ghost. Abruptly, her senses quivered. She twisted her head to see Keane watching her. Jo dropped her hand. A rare blush mantled her cheeks as she found herself caught unguarded.\n\n\"How do you take your coffee, Jo?\"\n\nShe swallowed. \"Black,\" she told him, aware that he was granting her the privacy of her thoughts. \"Just black. Thank you.\"\n\nKeane nodded, then turned to pick up two steaming mugs. \"Come, sit down.\" He moved toward the Formica table that sat directly across from the kitchen. \"You'd better take off your shoes. They're wet.\"\n\nAfter squeaking her way down the length of the trailer, Jo sat down and pulled at the damp laces. Keane set both mugs on the table before disappearing into the back of the trailer. When he returned, Jo was already sipping at the coffee.\n\n\"Here.\" He offered her a pair of socks.\n\nSurprised, Jo shook her head. \"No, that's all right. I don't need . . .\"\n\nHer polite refusal trailed off as he knelt at her feet. \"Your feet are like ice,\" he commented after cupping them in his palms. Briskly, he rubbed them while Jo sat mute, oddly disarmed by the gesture. The warmth was spreading dangerously past her ankles. \"Since I'm responsible for keeping you out in the rain,\" he went on as he slipped a sock over her foot, \"I'd best see to it you don't cough and sneeze your way through tomorrow's show. Such small feet,\" he murmured, running his thumb over the curve of her ankle as she stared wordlessly at the top of his head.\n\nRaindrops still clung to and glistened in his hair. Jo found herself longing to brush them away and feel the texture of his hair beneath her fingers. She was sharply aware of him and wondered if it would always be this way when she was near him. Keane pulled on the second sock. His fingers lingered on her calf as he lifted his eyes. Hers were darkened with confusion as they met his. The body over which she had always held supreme control was journeying into frontiers her mind had not yet explored.\n\n\"Still cold?\" Keane asked softly.\n\nJo moistened her lips and shook her head. \"No. No, I'm fine.\"\n\nHe smiled a lazy, masculine smile that said as clearly as words that he was aware of his effect on her. His eyes told her he enjoyed it. Unsmiling, Jo watched him rise to his feet.\n\n\"It doesn't mean you'll win,\" she said aloud in response to their silent communication.\n\n\"No, it doesn't.\" Keane's smile remained as his gaze roamed possessively over her face. \"That only makes it more interesting. Open and shut cases are invariably boring, hardly worth the trouble of going on if you've won before you've finished your opening statement.\"\n\nJo lifted her coffee and sipped, taking a moment to settle her nerves. \"Are we here to discuss the law or circus business, counselor?\" she asked, letting her eyes drift to his again as she set the mug back on the table. \"If it's law, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you. I don't know much about it.\"\n\n\"What do you know about, Jovilette?\" Keane slid into the chair beside hers.\n\n\"Cats,\" she said. \"And Prescott's Circus Colossus. I'll be glad to let you know whatever I can about either.\"\n\n\"Tell me about you,\" he countered, and leaning back, pulled a cigar from his pocket.\n\n\"Mr. Prescott\u2014\" Jo began.\n\n\"Keane,\" he interrupted, flicking on his lighter. He glanced at the tip of his cigar, then back up at her through the thin haze of smoke.\n\n\"I was under the impression you wanted to be briefed on the personnel.\"\n\n\"You are a member of this circus, are you not?\" Casually, Keane blew smoke at the ceiling. \"I have every intention of being briefed on the entire troupe and see no reason why you shouldn't start with yourself.\" His eyes traveled back to hers. \"Humor me.\"\n\nJo decided to take the line of least resistance. \"It's a short enough story,\" she said with a shrug. \"I've been with the circus all my life. When I was old enough, I started work as a generally useful.\"\n\n\"A what?\" Keane paused in the action of reaching for the coffeepot.\n\n\"Generally useful,\" Jo repeated, letting him freshen her cup. \"It's a circus term that means exactly what it says. Rose's parents, for instance, are generally usefuls. We get a lot of drifters who work that way, too. It's also written into every performer's contract, after the specific terms, that they make themselves generally useful. There isn't room in most circuses, and certainly not in a tent circus, for performers with star complexes. You do what's necessary, what's needed. Buck, my handler, fills in during a slump at the sideshow, and he's one of the best canvas men around. Pete is the best mechanic in the troupe. Jamie knows as much about lighting as most shandies\u2014electricians,\" she supplied as Keane lifted a brow. \"He's also a better-than-average tumbler.\"\n\n\"What about you?\" Keane interrupted the flow of Jo's words. For a moment she faltered, and the hands that had been gesturing became still. \"Besides riding a galloping horse without reins or saddle, giving orders to elephants and facing lions?\" He lifted his cup, watching her as he sipped. A smile lurked in his eyes. Jo frowned, studying him.\n\n\"Are you making fun of me?\"\n\nHis smile sobered instantly. \"No, Jo, I'm not making fun of you.\n\nShe continued. \"In a pinch, I run the menagerie in the sideshow or I fill in the aerial act. Not the trap,\" she explained, relaxing again. \"They have to practice together constantly to keep the timing. But sometimes I fill in on the Spanish Web, the big costume number where the girls hang from ropes and do identical moves. They're using butterfly costumes this year.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know the one.\" Keane continued to watch her as he drew on his cigar.\n\n\"But mostly Duffy likes to use girls who are more curvy. They double as showgirls in the finale.\"\n\n\"I see.\" A smile tugged at the corners of Keane's mouth. \"Tell me, were your parents European?\"\n\n\"No.\" Diverted, Jo shook her head. \"Why do you ask?\"\n\n\"Your name. And the ease with which I've heard you speak both French and Italian.\"\n\n\"It's easy to pick up languages in the circus,\" Jo said.\n\n\"Your accent was perfect in both cases.\"\n\n\"What? Oh.\" She shrugged and absently shifted in her chair, bringing her feet up to sit cross-legged. \"We have a wide variety of nationalities here. Frank used to say that the world could take a lesson from the circus. We have French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Mexican, Americans from all parts of the country and more.\"\n\n\"I know. It's like a traveling United Nations.\" He tipped his cigar ash in a glass tray. \"So you picked up some French and Italian along the way. But if you've traveled with the circus all your life, what about the rest of your schooling?\"\n\nThe hint of censure in his voice brought up her chin. \"I went to school during the winter break and had a tutor on the road. I learned my ABCs, counselor, and a bit more, besides. I probably know more about geography and world history than you, and from more interesting sources than textbooks. I imagine I know more about animals than a third-year veterinary student and have more practical experience healing them. I can speak seven languages and\u2014\"\n\n\"Seven?\" Keane interrupted. \"Seven languages?\"\n\n\"Well, five fluently,\" she corrected grudgingly. \"I still have a bit of trouble with Greek and German, unless I can really take my time, and I can't read Greek yet at all.\"\n\n\"What else besides French, Italian and English?\"\n\n\"Spanish and Russian.\" Jo scowled into her coffee. \"The Russian's handy. I use it for swearing at the cats during the act. Not too many people understand Russian cursing, so it's safe.\"\n\nKeane's laughter brought Jo's attention from her coffee. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes gold with their mirth. Jo's scowl deepened. \"What's so funny?\"\n\n\"You are, Jovilette.\" Stung, she started to scramble up, but his hands on her shoulders stopped her. \"No, don't be offended. I can't help but find it amusing that you toss out so offhandedly an accomplishment that any language major would brag about.\" Carelessly, he ran a finger over her sulky mouth. \"You continually amaze me.\" He brushed a hand through her hair. \"You mumbled something at me the other day. Were you swearing at me in Russian?\"\n\n\"Probably.\"\n\nGrinning, Keane dropped his hand and settled into his chair again. \"When did you start working with the cats?\"\n\n\"In front of an audience? When I was seventeen. Frank wouldn't let me start any earlier. He was my legal guardian as well as the owner, so he had me both ways. I was ready when I was fifteen.\"\n\n\"How did you lose your parents?\"\n\nThe question caught her off guard. \"In a fire,\" she said levelly. \"When I was seven.\"\n\n\"Here?\"\n\nShe knew Keane was not referring to their locale but to the circus. Jo sipped her cooling coffee. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Didn't you have any other family?\"\n\n\"The circus is a family,\" she countered. \"I was never given the chance to be an orphan. And I always had Frank.\"\n\n\"Did you?\" Keane's smile was faintly sarcastic. \"How was he as a father figure?\"\n\nJo studied him for a moment. Was he bitter? she wondered. Or amused? Or simply curious? \"He never took my father's place,\" she replied quietly. \"He never tried to, because neither of us wanted it. We were friends, as close as I think it's possible for friends to be, but I'd already had a father, and he'd already had a child. We weren't looking for substitutes. You look nothing like him, you know.\"\n\n\"No,\" Keane replied with a shrug. \"I know.\"\n\n\"He had a comfortable face, all creases and folds.\" Jo smiled, thinking of it while she ran a finger absently around the rim of her mug. \"He was dark, too, just beginning to gray when . . .\" She trailed off, then brought herself back with a quick shake of her head. \"Your voice is rather like his, though; he had a truly beautiful voice. I'll ask you a question now.\"\n\nKeane's expression became attentive, then he gestured with the back of his hand. \"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Why are you here? I lost my temper when I asked you before, but I do want to know.\" It was against her nature to probe, and some of her discomfort found its way into her voice. \"It must have caused you some difficulty to leave your practice, even for a few weeks.\"\n\nKeane frowned at the end of his cigar before he slowly crushed it out. \"Let's say I wanted to see firsthand what had fascinated my father all these years.\"\n\n\"You never came when he was alive.\" Jo gripped her hands together under the table. \"You didn't even bother to come to his funeral.\"\n\n\"I would've been the worst kind of hypocrite to attend his funeral, don't you think?\"\n\n\"He was your father.\" Jo's eyes grew dark and her tone sharp in reproof.\n\n\"You're smarter than that, Jo,\" Keane countered calmly. \"It takes more than an accident of birth to make a father. Frank Prescott was a complete stranger to me.\"\n\n\"You resent him.\" Jo felt suddenly torn between loyalty for Frank and understanding for the man who sat beside her.\n\n\"No.\" Keane shook his head thoughtfully. \"No, I believe I actively resented him when I was growing up, but . . .\" He shrugged the thought aside. \"I grew rather ambivalent over the years.\"\n\n\"He was a good man,\" Jo stated, leaning forward as she willed him to understand. \"He only wanted to give people pleasure, to show them a little magic. Maybe he wasn't made to be a father\u2014some men aren't\u2014but he was kind and gentle. And he was proud of you.\"\n\n\"Of me?\" Keane seemed amused. \"How?\"\n\n\"Oh, you're hateful,\" Jo whispered, hurt by his careless attitude. She slipped from her chair, but before she could step away, Keane took her arm.\n\n\"No, tell me. I'm interested.\" His hold on her arm was light, but she knew it would tighten if she resisted.\n\n\"All right.\" Jo tossed her head to send her hair behind her back. \"He had the Chicago paper delivered to his Florida office. He always looked for any mention of you, any article on a court case you were involved in or a dinner party you attended. Anything. You have to understand that to us a write-up is very important. Frank wasn't a performer, but he was one of us. Sometimes he'd read me an article before he put it away. He kept a scrapbook.\"\n\nJo pulled her arm away and strode past Keane into the bedroom. The oversize wooden chest was where it had always been, at the foot of Frank's bed. Kneeling down, Jo tossed up the lid. \"This is where he kept all the things that mattered to him.\" Jo began to shift through papers and mementos quickly; she had not been able to bring herself to sort through the chest before. Keane stood in the doorway and watched her. \"He called it his memory box.\" She pushed at her hair with an annoyed hand, then continued to search. \"He said memories were the rewards for growing old. Here it is.\" Jo pulled out a dark green scrapbook, then sat back on her heels. Silently, she held it out to Keane. After a moment he crossed the room and took it from her. Jo could hear the rain hissing on the ground outside as their eyes held. His expression was unfathomable as he opened the book. The pages rustled to join the quiet sound of the rain.\n\n\"What an odd man he must have been,\" Keane murmured, \"to keep a scrapbook on a son he never knew.\" There was no rancor in his voice. \"What was he?\" he asked suddenly, shifting his eyes back to Jo.\n\n\"A dreamer,\" she answered. \"His watch was always five minutes slow. If he hung a picture on the wall, it was always crooked. He'd never straighten it because he'd never notice. He was always thinking about tomorrow. I guess that's why he kept yesterday in this box.\" Glancing down, she began to straighten the chaos she had caused while looking for the book. A snatch of red caught her eye. Reaching for it, her fingers found a familiar shape. Jo hesitated, then drew the old doll out of the chest.\n\nIt was a sad piece of plastic and faded silk with its face nearly washed away. One arm was broken off, leaving an empty sleeve. The golden hair was straggled but brave under its red cap. Ballet shoes were painted on the dainty feet. Tears backed up behind Jo's eyes as she made a soft sound of joy and despair.\n\n\"What is it?\" Keane demanded, glancing down to see her clutching the battered ballerina.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Her voice was unsteady as she scrambled quickly to her feet. \"I have to go.\" Though she tried, Jo could not bring herself to drop the doll back into the box. She swallowed. She did not wish to reveal her emotions before his intelligent, gold eyes. Perhaps he would be cynical, or worse, amused. \"May I have this, please?\" She was careful with the tone of the request.\n\nSlowly, Keane crossed the distance between them, then cradled her chin in his hand. \"It appears to be yours already.\"\n\n\"It was.\" Her fingers tightened on the doll's waist. \"I didn't know Frank had kept it. Please,\" she whispered. Her emotions were already dangerously heightened. She could feel a need to rest her head against his shoulder. The evening had been a roller coaster for her feelings, climaxing now with the discovery of her most prized childhood possession. She knew that if she did not escape, she would seek comfort in his arms. Her own weakness frightened her. \"Let me by.\"\n\nFor a moment, Jo read refusal in his eyes. Then he stepped aside. Jo let out a quiet, shaky breath. \"I'll walk you back to your trailer.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said quickly, too quickly. \"It isn't necessary,\" she amended, moving by him and into the kitchen. Sitting down, she pulled on her shoes, too distraught to remember she still wore his socks. \"There's no reason for us both to get wet again.\" She rambled on, knowing he was watching her hurried movement, but unable to stop. \"And I'm going to check on my cats before I go in, and . . .\"\n\nShe stopped short when he took her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. \"And you don't want to take the chance of being alone in your trailer with me in case I change my mind.\"\n\nA sharp denial trembled on her lips, but the knowledge in his eyes crushed it. \"All right,\" she admitted. \"That, too.\"\n\nKeane brushed her hair from her neck and shook his head. He kissed her nose and moved down to pluck her hat and coat from their hooks. Cautiously, Jo followed him. When he held out her coat, she turned and slipped her arms into the sleeves. Before she could murmur her thanks, he turned her back and pulled up the zipper. For a moment his fingers lingered at her neck, his eyes on hers. Taking her hair into his hand, he piled it atop her head, then dropped on her hat. The gestures were innocent, but Jo was rocked by a feeling of intimacy she had never experienced.\n\n\"I'll see you tomorrow,\" he said, pulling the brim of her hat down further over her eyes.\n\nJo nodded. Holding the doll against her side, she pushed open the door. The sound of rain was amplified through the trailer. \"Good night,\" she murmured, then moved quickly into the night. __\n**Chapter Five**\n\nThe morning scent was clean. In the new lot rainbows glistened in puddles. At last the sky was blue with only harmless white puffs of clouds floating over its surface. In the cookhouse a loud, crowded breakfast was being served. Finding herself without appetite, Jo skipped going to the cookhouse altogether. She was restless and tense. No matter how she disciplined her mind, her thoughts wandered back to Keane Prescott and to the evening they had spent together. Jo remembered it all, from the quick passion of the kiss in the rain to the calmness of his voice when he had said good-night. It was odd, she mused, that whenever she began to talk to him, she forgot he was the owner, forgot he was Frank's son. Always she was forced to remind herself of their positions.\n\nDeep in thought, Jo slipped into tights and a leotard. It was true, she admitted, that she had failed to keep their relationship from becoming personal. She found it difficult to corral her urge to laugh with him, to share a joke, to open for him the doorway to the magic of the circus. If he could feel it, she thought, he would understand. Though she could admit her interest in him privately, she could not find a clear reason for his apparent interest in her.\n\n_Why me?_ she wondered with a shake of her head. Turning, she opened her wardrobe closet and studied herself in the full-length glass on the back of the door. There she saw a woman of slightly less-than-average height with a body lacking the generous curves of Duffy's showgirls. The legs, she decided, were not bad. They were long and well-shaped with slim thighs. The hips were narrow, more, she thought with a pout, like a boy's than a woman's; and the bustline was sadly inadequate. She knew many women in the troupe with more appeal and a dozen with more experience.\n\nJo could see nothing in the mirror that would attract a sophisticated Chicago attorney. She did not note the honesty that shone from the exotically shaped green eyes or the strength in her chin or the full promise of her mouth. She saw the touch of gypsy in the tawny complexion and raven hair but remained unaware of the appeal that came from the hint of something wild and untamed just under the surface. The plain black leotard showed her firm, lithe body to perfection, but Jo thought nothing of the smooth satiny sheen of her skin. She was frowning as she pulled her hair back and began to braid it.\n\nHe must know dozens of women, she thought as her hands worked to confine her thick mane of hair. He probably takes a different one to dinner every night. They wear beautiful clothes and expensive perfume, she mused, torturing herself with the thought. They have names like Laura and Patricia, and they have low, sophisticated laughs. Jo lifted a brow at the reflection in the mirror and gave a light, low laugh. She wrinkled her brow at the hollowness of the sound. They discuss mutual friends, the Wallaces or the Jamesons, over candlelight and Beaujolais. And when he takes the most beautiful one home, they listen to Chopin and drink brandy in front of the fire. Then they make love. Jo felt an odd tightening in her stomach but pursued the fantasy to the finish. The lovely lady is experienced, passionate and worldly. Her skin is soft and white. When he leaves, she is not devastated but mature. She doesn't even care if he loves her or not.\n\nJo stared at the woman in the glass and saw her cheeks were wet. On a cry of frustration, she slammed the door shut. _What's wrong with me?_ she demanded, brushing all traces of tears from her face. I haven't been myself for days! I need to shake myself out of this\u2014this . . . whatever it is that I'm in. Slipping on gymnastic shoes and tossing a robe over her arm, Jo hustled from the trailer.\n\nShe moved carefully, avoiding puddles and any further speculation on Keane Prescott's romantic life. Before she was halfway across the lot, she saw Rose. From the expression on her face, Jo could see she was in a temper.\n\n\"Hello, Rose,\" she said, strategically stepping aside as the snake charmer splashed through a puddle.\n\n\"He's hopeless,\" Rose tossed back. \"I tell you,\" she continued, stopping and wagging a finger at Jo, \"I'm through this time. Why should I waste my time?\"\n\n\"You've certainly been patient,\" Jo agreed, deciding that sympathy was the wisest course. \"It's more than he deserves.\"\n\n\"Patient?\" Rose raised a dramatic hand to her breast. \"I have the patience of a saint. Yet even a saint has her limits!\" Rose tossed her hair behind her shoulders. She sighed heavily. _\"Adios._ I think I hear Mama calling me.\"\n\nJo continued her walk toward the Big Top. Jamie walked by, his hands in his pockets. \"She's crazy,\" he muttered. He stopped and spread his arms wide. His look was that of a man ill-used and innocent. Jo shrugged. Shaking his head, Jamie moved away. \"She's crazy,\" he said again.\n\nJo watched him until he was out of sight, then darted to the Big Top.\n\nInside, Carmen watched adoringly while Vito practiced a new routine on the incline wire. The tent echoed with the sounds of rehearsals: voices and thumps, the rattle of rigging, the yapping of clown dogs. In the first ring Jo spotted the Six Beirots, an acrobatic act that was just beginning its warm-ups. Pleased with her timing, Jo walked the length of the arena. A raucous whistle sounded over her head, and she glanced up to shake a friendly fist at Vito. He called from fifteen feet above her as he balanced on a slender wire set at a forty-five-degree angle.\n\n\"Hey, chickie, you have a nice rear view. You're almost as cute as me.\"\n\n\"No one's as cute as you, Vito,\" she called back.\n\n\"Ah, I know.\" With a weighty sigh, he executed a neat pivot. \"But I have learned to live with it.\" He sent down a lewd wink. \"When you going into town with me, chickie?\" he asked as he always did.\n\n\"When you teach my cats to walk the wire,\" Jo answered as she always did. Vito laughed and began a light-footed cha-cha. Carmen fired Jo a glare. She must have it bad, Jo decided, if she takes Vito's harmless flirting seriously. Stopping beside her, Jo leaned close and spoke in a conspirator's whisper. \"He'd fall off his wire if I said I'd go.\"\n\n\"I'd go,\" Carmen said with a lovely pout, \"if he'd just ask me.\"\n\nJo shook her head, wondering why romances were invariably complicated. She was lucky not to have the problem. Giving Carmen an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Jo set off toward the first ring.\n\n***\n\nThe Six Beirots were brothers. They were all small-statured, dark men who had immigrated from Belgium. Jo worked out with them often to keep herself limber and to keep her reflexes sharp. She liked them all, knew their wives and children, and understood their unique blending of French and English. Raoul was the oldest, and the stockiest of the six brothers. Because of his build and strength, he was the under-stander in their human pyramid. It was he who spotted Jo and first lifted a hand in greeting.\n\n_\"Halo.\"_ He grinned and ran his palm over his receding hairline. \"You gonna tumble?\"\n\nJo laughed and did a quick handspring into the ring. She stuck out her tongue when the unanimous critique was \"sloppy.\" \"I just need to warm up,\" she said, assuming an air of injured dignity. \"My muscles need tuning.\"\n\nFor the next thirty minutes Jo worked with them, doing muscle stretches and limbering exercises, rib stretches and lung expanders. Her muscles warmed and loosened, her heart pumped steadily. She was filled with energy. Her mind was clear. Because of her lightened mood, Jo was easily cajoled into a few impromptu acrobatics. Leaving the more complicated feats to the experts, she did simple back flips, handsprings or twists at Raoul's command. She did a brief, semi-successful thirty seconds atop the rolling globe and earned catcalls from her comrades at her dismount.\n\nShe stood back as they began the leaps. One after another they lined up to take turns running along a ramp, bounding upon a springboard and flying up to do flips or twists before landing on the mat. There was a constant stream of French as they called out to each other.\n\n\"Hokay, Jo.\" Raoul gestured with his hand. \"Your turn.\"\n\n\"Oh, no.\" She shook her head and reached for her robe. \"Uh-uh.\" There was a chorus of coaxing, teasing French. \"I've got to give my cats their vitamins,\" she told them, still shaking her head.\n\n\"Come on, Jo. It's fun.\" Raoul grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. \"Don't you like to fly?\" As she glanced at the ramp, Raoul knew she was tempted. \"You take a good spring,\" he told her. \"Do one forward somersault, then land on my shoulders.\" He patted them to show their ability to handle the job.\n\nJo smiled and nibbled pensively on her lower lip. It had been a long while since she had taken the time to go up on the trapeze and really fly. It did look like fun. She gave Raoul a stern look. \"You'll catch me?\"\n\n\"Raoul never misses,\" he said proudly, then turned to his brothers. _\"N'est-ce pas?\"_ His brothers shrugged and rolled their eyes to the ceiling with indistinguishable mutters. \"Ah.\" He waved them away with the back of his hand.\n\nKnowing Raoul was indeed a top flight under-stander, Jo approached the ramp. Still she gave him one last narrow-eyed look. \"You catch me,\" she ordered, shaking her finger at him.\n\n_\"Cherie.\"_ He took his position with a stylish movement of his hand. \"It's a piece of pie.\"\n\n\"Cake,\" Jo corrected, took a deep breath, held it and ran. When she came off the springboard, she tucked into the somersault and watched the Big Top turn upside down. She felt good. As the tent began to right itself, she straightened for her landing, keeping herself loose. Her feet connected with Raoul's powerful shoulders, and she tilted only briefly before he took her ankles in a firm grip. Straightening her poor posture, Jo styled elaborately with both arms while she received exaggerated applause and whistles. She leaped down nimbly as Raoul took her waist to give her landing bounce.\n\n\"When do you want to join the act?\" he asked her, giving her a friendly pat on the bottom. \"We'll put you up on the sway pole.\"\n\n\"That's okay.\" Grinning, Jo again reached for her robe. \"I'll stick with the cats.\" After a cheerful wave, she slipped one arm into a sleeve and started back down the hippodrome track. She pulled up short when she spotted Keane leaning up against the front seat rail.\n\n\"Amazing,\" he said, then straightened to move to her. \"But then, the circus is supposed to be amazing, isn't it?\" He lifted the forgotten sleeve to her robe, then slipped her other arm into it. \"Is there anything here you can't do?\"\n\n\"Hundreds of things,\" Jo answered, taking him seriously. \"I'm only really proficient with animals. The rest is just show and play.\"\n\n\"You looked amazingly proficient to me for the last half hour or so,\" he countered as he pulled out her braid from where it was trapped by her robe.\n\n\"Have you been here that long?\"\n\n\"I walked in as Vito was commenting on your rear view.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Jo laughed, glancing back to where Vito now stood flirting with Carmen. \"He's crazy.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Keane agreed, taking her arm. \"But his eyesight's good enough. Would you like some coffee?\"\n\nJo was reminded instantly of the evening before. Leery of being drawn to his charms again, she shook her head. \"I've got to change,\" she told him, belting her robe. \"We've got a show at two. I want to rehearse the cats.\"\n\n\"It's incredible how much time you people devote to your art. Rehearsals seem to run into the beginning of a show, and a show seems to run into more rehearsals.\"\n\nJo softened when he referred to circus skills as art. \"Performers always look for just a bit more in themselves. It's a constant struggle for perfection. Even when a performance goes beautifully and you know it, you start thinking about the next time. How can I do it better or bigger or higher or faster?\"\n\n\"Never satisfied?\" Keane asked as they stepped out into the sunlight.\n\n\"If we were, we wouldn't have much of a reason to come back and do it all over again.\"\n\nHe nodded, but there was something absent in the gesture, as if his mind was elsewhere. \"I have to leave this afternoon,\" he said almost to himself.\n\n\"Leave?\" Jo's heart skidded to a stop. Her distress was overwhelming and so unexpected that she was forced to take an extra moment to steady herself. \"Back to Chicago?\"\n\n_\"Hmm?\"_ Keane stopped, turning to face her. \"Oh, yes.\"\n\n\"And the circus?\" Jo asked, thoroughly ashamed that it had not been her first concern. She didn't want him to leave, she suddenly realized.\n\nKeane frowned a moment, then continued to walk. \"I see no purpose in disrupting this year's schedule.\" His voice was brisk now and businesslike.\n\n\"This year's?\" Jo repeated cautiously.\n\nKeane turned and looked at her. \"I haven't decided its ultimate fate, but I won't do anything until the end of the summer.\"\n\n\"I see.\" She let out a long breath. \"So we have a reprieve.\"\n\n\"In a manner of speaking,\" Keane agreed.\n\nJo was silent for a moment but could not prevent herself from asking, \"Then you won't\u2014I mean, you'll be staying in Chicago now; you won't be traveling with us?\"\n\nThey negotiated their way around a puddle before Keane answered. \"I don't feel I can make a judicious decision about the circus after so brief an exposure. There's a complication in one of my cases that needs my personal attention, but I should be back in a week or two.\"\n\nRelief flooded through her. He would be back, a voice shouted in her ear. It shouldn't matter to you, another whispered. \"We'll be in South Carolina in a couple of weeks,\" Jo said casually. They had reached her trailer, and she took the handle of her door before she turned to face him. _It's just that I want him to understand what this circus means,_ she told herself as she looked up into his eyes. _That's the only reason I want him to come back._ Knowing she was lying to herself made it difficult to keep her gaze steady.\n\nKeane smiled, letting his eyes travel over her face. \"Yes, Duffy's given me a route list. I'll find you. Aren't you going to ask me in?\"\n\n\"In?\" Jo repeated. \"Oh, no, I told you, I have to change, and . . .\" He stepped forward as she talked. Something in his eyes told her a firm stand was necessary. She had seen a similar look in a lion's eyes while he contemplated taking a dangerous liberty. \"I simply don't have time right now. If I don't see you before you go, have a good trip.\" She turned and opened the door. Aware of a movement, she turned back, but not before he had nudged her through the door and followed. As it closed at his back, Jo bristled with fury. She did not enjoy being out-maneuvered. \"Tell me, counselor, do you know anything about a law concerning breaking and entering?\"\n\n\"Doesn't apply,\" he returned smoothly. \"There was no lock involved.\" He glanced around at the attractive simplicity of Jo's trailer. The colors were restful earth tones without frills. The beige\u2013 and brown\u2013 flecked linoleum floor was spotlessly clean. It was the same basic floorplan as Frank's trailer, but here there were softer touches. There were curtains rather than shades at the windows; large, comfortable pillows tossed onto a forest green sofa; a spray of fresh wildflowers tucked into a thin, glass vase. Without comment Keane wandered to a black lacquer trunk that sat directly opposite the door. On it was a book that he picked up while Jo fumed. _\"The Count of Monte Cristo,\"_ he read aloud and flipped it open. \"In French,\" he stated, lifting a brow.\n\n\"It was written in French,\" Jo muttered, pulling it from his hand. \"So I read it in French.\" Annoyed, she lifted the lid on the trunk, preparing to drop the book inside and out of his reach.\n\n\"Good heavens, are those all yours?\" Keane stopped the lid on its downswing, then pushed books around with his other hand. \"Tolstoy, Cervantes, Voltaire, Steinbeck. When do you have time in this crazy, twenty-four-hour world you live in to read this stuff?\"\n\n\"I make time,\" Jo snapped as her eyes sparked. \"My _own_ time. Just because you're the owner doesn't mean you can barge in here and poke through my things and demand an account of my time. This is my trailer. I own everything in it.\"\n\n\"Hold on.\" Keane halted her rushing stream of words. \"I wasn't demanding an account of your time, I was simply astonished that you could find enough of it to do this type of reading. Since I can't claim to be an expert on your work, it would be remarkably foolish of me to criticize the amount of time you spend on it. Secondly,\" he said, taking a step toward her\u2014and though Jo stiffened in anticipation, he did not touch her, \"I apologize for 'poking through your things,' as you put it. I was interested for several reasons. One being I have quite an extensive library myself. It seems we have a common interest, whether we like it or not. As for barging into your trailer, I can only plead guilty. If you choose to prosecute, I can recommend a couple of lousy attorneys who overcharge.\"\n\nHis last comment forced a smile onto Jo's reluctant lips. \"I'll give it some thought.\" With more care than she had originally intended, Jo lowered the lid of the trunk. She was reminded that she had not been gracious. \"I'm sorry,\" she said as she turned back to him.\n\nHis eyes reflected curiosity. \"What for?\"\n\n\"For snapping at you.\" She lifted her shoulders, then let them fall. \"I thought you were criticizing me. I suppose I'm too sensitive.\"\n\nSeveral seconds passed before he spoke. \"Unnecessary apology accepted if you answer one question.\"\n\nMystified, Jo frowned at him. \"What question?\"\n\n\"Is the Tolstoy in Russian?\"\n\nJo laughed, pushing loose strands of hair from her face. \"Yes, it is.\"\n\nKeane smiled, enjoying the two tiny dimples that flickered in her cheeks when she laughed. \"Did you know that though you're lovely in any case, you grow even more so when you smile?\"\n\nJo's laughter stilled. She was unaccustomed to this sort of compliment and studied him without any idea of how to respond. It occurred to her that any of the sophisticated women she had imagined that morning would have known precisely what to say. She would have been able to smile or laugh as she tossed back the appropriate comment. That woman, Jo admitted, was not Jovilette Wilder. Gravely, she kept her eyes on his. \"I don't know how to flirt,\" she said simply.\n\nKeane tilted his head, and an expression came and went in his eyes before she could analyze it. He stepped toward her. \"I wasn't flirting with you, Jo, I was making an observation. Hasn't anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?\"\n\nHe was much too close now, but in the narrow confines of the trailer, Jo had little room to maneuver. She was forced to tilt back her head to keep her eyes level with his. \"Not precisely the way you did.\" Quickly, she put her hand to his chest to keep the slight but important distance between them. She knew she was trapped, but that did not mean she was defeated.\n\nGently, Keane lifted her protesting hand, turning it palm up as he brought it to his lips. An involuntary breath rushed in and out of Jo's lungs. \"Your hands are exquisite,\" he murmured, tracing the fine line of blue up the back. \"Narrow-boned, long-fingered. And the palms show hard work. That makes them more interesting.\" He lifted his eyes from her hand to her face. \"Like you.\"\n\nJo's voice had grown husky, but she could do nothing to alter it. \"I don't know what I'm supposed to say when you tell me things like that.\" Beneath her robe her breasts rose and fell with her quickening heart. \"I'd rather you didn't.\"\n\n\"Do you really?\" Keane ran the back of his hand along her jawline. \"That's a pity, because the more I look at you, the more I find to say. You're a bewitching creature, Jovilette.\"\n\n\"I have to change,\" she said in the firmest voice she could muster. \"You'll have to go.\"\n\n\"That's unfortunately true,\" he murmured, then cupped her chin. \"Come, then, kiss me goodbye.\"\n\nJo stiffened. \"I hardly think that's necessary. . . .\"\n\n\"You couldn't be more wrong,\" he told her as he lowered his mouth. \"It's extremely necessary.\" In a light, teasing whisper, his lips met hers. His arms encircled her, bringing her closer with only the slightest pressure. \"Kiss me back, Jo,\" he ordered softly. \"Put your arms around me and kiss me back.\"\n\nFor a moment longer she resisted, but the lure of his mouth nibbling at hers was too strong. Letting instinct rule her will, Jo lifted her arms and circled his neck. Her mouth grew mobile under his, parting and offering. Her surrender seemed to lick the flames of his passion. The kiss grew urgent. His arms locked, crushing her against him. Her quiet moan was not of protest but of wonder. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in its thickness as they urged him closer. She felt her robe loosen, then his hands trail up her rib cage. At his touch, she shivered, feeling her skin grow hot, then cold, then hot again in rapid succession.\n\nWhen his hand took her breast, she shied, drawing in her breath quickly. \"Steady,\" he murmured against her mouth. His hands stroked gently, coaxing her to relax again. He kissed the corners of her mouth, waiting until she quieted before he took her deep again. The thin leotard molded her body. It created no barrier against the warmth of his searching fingers. They moved slowly, lingering over the peak of her breast, exploring its softness, wandering to her waist, then tracing her hip and thigh.\n\nNo man had ever touched her so freely. Jo was helpless to stop him, helpless against her own growing need for him to touch her again. Was this the passion she had read of so often? The passion that drove men to war, to struggle against all reason, to risk everything? She felt she could understand it now. She clung to him as he taught her\u2014as she learned\u2014the demands of her own body. Her mouth grew hungrier for the taste of him. She was certain she remained in his arms while seasons flew by, while decades passed, while worlds were destroyed and built again.\n\nBut when he drew away, Jo saw the same sun spilling through her windows. Eternity had only been moments.\n\nUnable to speak, she merely stared up at him. Her eyes were dark and aware, her cheeks flushed with desire. But somehow, though it still tingled from his, her mouth maintained a youthful innocence. Keane's eyes dropped to it as his hands loitered at the small of her back.\n\n\"It's difficult to believe I'm the first man to touch you,\" he murmured. His eyes roamed to hers. \"And quite desperately arousing. Particularly when I find you've passion to match your looks. I think I'd like to make love with you in the daylight first so that I can watch that marvelous control of yours slip away layer by layer. We'll have to discuss it when I get back.\"\n\nJo forced strength back into her limbs, knowing she was on the brink of losing her will to him. \"Just because I let you kiss me and touch me doesn't mean I'll let you make love to me.\" She lifted her chin, feeling her confidence surging back. \"If I do, it'll be because it's what I want, not because you tell me to.\"\n\nThe expression in Keane's eyes altered. \"Fair enough,\" he agreed and nodded. \"It'll simply be my job to make it what you want.\" He took her chin in his hand and lowered his mouth to hers for a brief kiss. As she had the first time, Jo kept her eyes open and watched him. She felt him grin against her mouth before he raised his head. \"You are the most fascinating woman I've ever met.\" Turning, he crossed to the door. \"I'll be back,\" he said with a careless wave before it closed behind him. Dumbly, Jo stared into empty space.\n\n_Fascinating?_ she repeated, tracing her still warm lips with her fingertips. Quickly, she ran to the window, and kneeling on the sofa below it, watched Keane stride away.\n\nShe realized with a sudden jolt that she missed him already. __\n**Chapter Six**\n\nJo learned that weeks could drag like years. During the second week of Keane's absence she had searched each new lot for a sign of him. She had scanned the crowds of towners who came to watch the raising of the Big Top, and as the days stretched on and on, she balanced between anger and despair at his continued absence. Only in the cage did she manage to isolate her concentration, knowing she could not afford to do otherwise. But after each performance Jo found it more and more difficult to relax. Each morning she felt certain he would be back. Each night she lay restless, waiting for the sun to rise.\n\nSpring was in full bloom. The high grass lots smelled of it. Often there were wildflowers crushed underfoot, leaving their heavy fragrances in the air. Even as the circus caravan traveled north, the days grew warm, sunlight lingering further into evening. While other troupers enjoyed the balmy air and providentially sunny skies, Jo lived on nerves.\n\nIt occurred to her that after returning to his life in Chicago, Keane had decided against coming back. In Chicago he had comfort and wealth and elegant women. Why should he come back? Jo closed her mind against the ultimate fate of the circus, unwilling to face the possibility that Keane might close the show at the end of the season. She told herself the only reason she wanted him to come back was to convince him to keep the circus open. But the memory of being in his arms intruded too often into her thoughts. Gradually, she grew resigned, filling the strange void she felt with her work.\n\nSeveral times each week she found time to give the eager Gerry more training. At first she had only permitted him to work with the two menagerie cubs, allowing him, with the protection of leather gloves, to play with them and to feed them. She encouraged him to teach them simple tricks with the aid of small pieces of raw meat. Jo was as pleased as he when the cats responded to his patience and obeyed.\n\nJo saw potential in Gerry, in his genuine affection for animals and in his determination. Her primary concern was that he had not yet developed a healthy fear. He was still too casual, and with casualness, Jo knew, came carelessness. When she thought he had progressed far enough, Jo decided to take him to the next step of his training.\n\n***\n\nThere was no matinee that day, and the Big Top was scattered with rehearsing troupers. Jo was dressed in boots and khakis with a long-sleeved blouse tucked into the waist. She studied Gerry as she ran the stock of her whip through her hand. They stood together in the safety cage while she issued instructions.\n\n\"All right, Buck's going to let Merlin through the chute. He's the most tractable of the cats, except for Ari.\" She paused a moment while her eyes grew sad. \"Ari isn't up to even a short practice session.\" She pushed away the depression that threatened and continued. \"Merlin knows you, he's familiar with your voice and your scent.\" Gerry nodded and swallowed. \"When we go in, you're to be my shadow. You move when I move, and don't speak until I tell you. If you get frightened, don't run.\" Jo took his arm for emphasis. \"That's _important,_ understand? Don't run. Tell me if you want out, and I'll get you to the safety cage.\"\n\n\"I won't run, Jo,\" he promised and wiped hands, damp with excitement, on his jeans.\n\n\"Are you ready?\"\n\nGerry grinned and nodded. \"Yeah.\"\n\nJo opened the door leading to the big cage and let Gerry through behind her before securing it. She walked to the center of the arena in easy, confident strides. \"Let him in, Buck,\" she called and heard the immediate rattle of bars. Merlin entered without hurry, then leaped onto his pedestal. He yawned hugely before looking at Jo. \"A solo today, Merlin,\" she said as she advanced toward him. \"And you're the star. Stay with me,\" she ordered as Gerry merely stood still and stared at the big cat. Merlin gave Gerry a disinterested glance and waited.\n\nWith an upward move of her arm, she sent Merlin into a sit-up. \"You know,\" she told the boy behind her, \"that teaching a cat to take his seat is the first trick. The audience won't even consider it one. The sit-up,\" she continued while signaling Merlin to bring his front paws back down, \"is usually next and takes quite a bit of time. It's necessary to strengthen the cat's back muscles first.\" Again she signaled Merlin to sit up, then, with a quick command, she had him pawing the air and roaring. \"Marvelous old ham,\" she said with a grin and brought him back down. \"The primary move of each cue is always given from the same position with the same tone of voice. It takes patience and repetition. I'm going to bring him down off the pedestal now.\"\n\nJo flicked the whip against the tanbark, and Merlin leaped down. \"Now I maneuver him to the spot in the arena where I want him to lie down.\" As she moved, Jo made certain her student moved with her. \"The cage is a circle, forty feet in diameter. You have to know every inch of it inside your head. You have to know precisely how far you are from the bars at all times. If you back up into the bars, you've got no room to maneuver if there's trouble. It's one of the biggest mistakes a trainer can make.\" At her signal Merlin laid down, then shifted to his side. \"Over, Merlin,\" she said briskly, sending him into a series of rolls. \"Use their names often; it keeps them in tune with you. You have to know each cat and their individual tendencies.\"\n\nJo moved with Merlin, then signaled him to stop. When he roared, she rubbed the top of his head with the stock of her whip. \"They like to be petted just like house cats, but they are not tabbies. It's essential that you never give them your complete trust and that you remember always to maintain your dominance. You subjugate not by poking them or beating or shouting, which is not only cruel but makes for a mean, undependable cat, but with patience, respect and will. Never humiliate them; they have a right to their pride. You bluff them, Gerry,\" she said as she raised both arms and brought Merlin up on his hind legs. \"Man is the unknown factor. That's why we use jungle-bred rather than captivity-bred cats. Ari is the exception. A cat born and raised in captivity is too familiar with man, so you lose your edge.\" She moved forward, keeping her arms raised. Merlin followed, walking on his hind legs. He spread seven feet into the air and towered over his trainer. \"They might have a sense of affection for you, but there's no fear and little respect. Unfortunately, this often happens if a cat's been with a trainer a long time. They don't become more docile the longer they're in an act, but they become more dangerous. They test you constantly. The trick is to make them believe you're indestructible.\"\n\nShe brought Merlin down, and he gave another yawn before she sent him back to his seat. \"If one swipes at you, you have to stop it then and there, because they try again and again, getting closer each time. Usually, if a trainer's hurt in the cage, it's because he's made a mistake. The cats are quick to spot them; sometimes they let them pass, sometimes they don't. This one's given me a good smack on the shoulder now and again. He's kept his claws retracted, but there's always the possibility that one time he'll forget he's just playing. Any questions?\"\n\n\"Hundreds,\" Gerry answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. \"I just can't focus on one right now.\"\n\nJo chuckled and again scratched Merlin's head when he roared. \"They'll come to you later. It's hard to absorb anything the first time, but it'll come back to you when you're relaxed again. All right, you know the cue. Make him sit up.\"\n\n\"Me?\"\n\nJo stepped to the side, giving Merlin a clear view of her student. \"You can be as scared as you like,\" she said easily. \"Just don't let it show in your voice. Watch his eyes.\"\n\nGerry rubbed his palm on the thighs of his jeans, then lifted it as he had seen Jo do hundreds of times. \"Up,\" he told the cat in a passably firm voice.\n\nMerlin studied him a moment, then looked at Jo. This, his eyes told her clearly, was an amateur and beneath his notice. Carefully, Jo kept her face expressionless. \"He's testing you,\" she told Gerry. \"He's an old hand and a bit harder to bluff. Be firm and use his name this time.\"\n\nGerry took a deep breath and repeated the hand signal.\n\n\"Up, Merlin.\"\n\nMerlin glanced back at him, then stared with measuring, amber eyes. \"Again,\" Jo instructed and heard Gerry swallow audibly. \"Put some authority into your voice. He thinks you're a pushover.\"\n\n\"Up, Merlin!\" Gerry repeated, annoyed enough by Jo's description to put some dominance into his voice. Though his reluctance was obvious, Merlin obeyed. \"He did it,\" Gerry whispered on a long, shaky breath. \"He really did it.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" Jo said, pleased with both the lion and her student. \"Now bring him down.\" When this was accomplished, Jo had him bring Merlin from the seat. \"Here.\" She handed Gerry the whip. \"Use the stock to scratch his head. He likes it best just behind the ear.\" She felt the faint tremble in his hand as he took the whip, but he held it steady, even as Merlin closed his eyes and roared.\n\nBecause he had performed well, Jo afforded Merlin the liberty of rubbing against her legs before she called for Buck to let him out. The rattle of the bars was the cat's cue to exit, and like a trouper, he took it with his head held high. \"You did very well,\" she told Gerry when they were alone in the cage.\n\n\"It was great.\" He handed her back the whip, the stock damp from his sweaty palms. \"It was just great. When can I do it again?\"\n\nJo smiled and patted his shoulder. \"Soon,\" she promised. \"Just remember the things I've told you and come to me when you remember all those questions.\"\n\n\"Okay, thanks, Jo.\" He stepped through the safety cage. \"Thanks a lot. I want to go tell the guys.\"\n\n\"Go ahead.\" Jo watched him scramble away, leaping over the ring and darting through the back door. With a grin, she leaned against the bars. \"Was I like that?\" she asked Buck, who stood at the opposite end of the cage.\n\n\"The first time you got a cat to sit up on your own, we heard about it for a week. Twelve years old and you thought you were ready for the big show.\"\n\nJo laughed, and wiping the damp stock of her whip against her pants, turned. It was then she saw him standing behind her. \"Keane!\" She used the name she had sworn not to use as pleasure flooded through her. It shone on her face. Just as she had given up hope of seeing him again, he was there. She took two steps toward him before she could check herself. \"I didn't know you were back.\" Jo gripped the stock of the whip with both hands to prevent herself from reaching out to touch him.\n\n\"I believe you missed me.\" His voice was as she remembered, low and smooth.\n\nJo cursed herself for being so na\u00efve and transparent. \"Perhaps I did, a little,\" she admitted cautiously. \"I suppose I'd gotten used to you, and you were gone longer than you said you'd be.\" He looks the same, she thought rapidly, exactly the same. She reminded herself that it had only been a month. It had seemed like years.\n\n_\"Mmm,_ yes. I had more to see to than I had expected. You look a bit pale,\" he observed and touched her cheek with his fingertip.\n\n\"I suppose I haven't been getting much sun,\" she said with quick prevarication. \"How was Chicago?\" Jo needed to turn the conversation away from personal lines until she had an opportunity to gauge her emotions; seeing him suddenly had tossed them into confusion.\n\n\"Cool,\" he told her, making a long, thorough survey of her face. \"Have you ever been there?\"\n\n\"No. We play near there toward the end of the season, but I've never had time to go all the way into the city.\"\n\nNodding absently, Keane glanced into the empty cage behind her. \"I see you're training Gerry.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Relieved that they had lapsed into a professional discussion, Jo let the muscles of her shoulders ease. \"This was the first time with an adult cat and no bars between. He did very well.\"\n\nKeane looked back at her. His eyes were serious and probing. \"He was trembling. I could see it from where I stood watching you.\"\n\n\"It was his first time\u2014\" she began in Gerry's defense.\n\n\"I wasn't criticizing him,\" Keane interrupted with a tinge of impatience. \"It's just that he stood beside you, shaking from head to foot, and you were totally cool and in complete control.\"\n\n\"It's my job to be in control,\" Jo reminded him.\n\n\"That lion must have stood seven feet tall when he went up on his hind legs, and you walked under him without any protection, not even the traditional chair.\"\n\n\"I do a picture act,\" she explained, \"not a fighting act.\"\n\n\"Jo,\" he said so sharply she blinked. \"Aren't you ever frightened in there?\"\n\n\"Frightened?\" she repeated, lifting a brow. \"Of course I'm frightened. More frightened than Gerry was\u2014or than you would be.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Keane demanded. Jo noted with some curiosity that he was angry. \"I could see that boy sweat in there.\"\n\n\"That was mostly excitement,\" Jo told him patiently. \"He hasn't the experience to be truly frightened yet.\" She tossed back her hair and let out a long breath. Jo did not like to talk of her fears with anyone and found it especially difficult with Keane. Only because she felt it necessary that he understand this to understand the circus did she continue. \"Real fear comes from knowing them, working with them, understanding them. You can only speculate on what they can do to a man. I _know._ I know exactly what they're capable of. They have an incredible courage, but more, they have an incredible guile. I've seen what they can do.\" Her eyes were calm and clear as they looked into his. \"My father almost lost a leg once. I was about five, but I remember it perfectly. He made a mistake, and a five-hundred-pound Nubian sunk into his thigh and dragged him around the arena. Luckily, the cat was diverted by a female in season. Cats are unpredictable when they have sex on their minds, which is probably one of the reasons he attacked my father in the first place. They're fiercely jealous once they've set their minds on a mate. My father was able to get into the safety cage before any of the other cats took an interest in him. I can't remember how many stitches he had or how long it was before he could walk properly again, but I do remember the look in that cat's eyes. You learn quickly about fear when you're in the cage, but you control it, you channel it or you find another line of work.\"\n\n\"Then why?\" Keane demanded. He took her shoulders before she could turn away. \"Why do you do it? And don't tell me because it's your job. That's not good enough.\"\n\nIt puzzled Jo why he seemed angry. His eyes were darkened with temper, and his fingers dug into her shoulders. As if wanting to draw out her answer, he gave her one quick shake. \"All right,\" Jo said slowly, ignoring the ache in her flesh. \"That is part of it, but not all. It's all I've ever known, that's part of it, too. It's what I'm good at.\" While she spoke, she searched his face for a clue to his mood. She wondered if perhaps he had felt it wrong of her to take Gerry into the cage. \"Gerry's going to be good at it, too,\" she told him. \"I imagine everyone needs to be good\u2014really good\u2014at something. And I enjoy giving the people who come to see me the best show I can. But over all, I suppose it's because I love them. It's difficult for a layman to understand a trainer's feeling for his animals. I love their intelligence, their really awesome beauty, their strength, the unquenchable streak of wildness that separates them from well-trained horses. They're exciting, challenging and terrifying.\"\n\nKeane was silent for a moment. She saw that his eyes were still angry, but his fingers relaxed on her shoulders. Jo felt a light throbbing where bruises would certainly show in the morning. \"I suppose excitement becomes addicting\u2014difficult to live without once it's become a habit.\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Jo replied, grateful that his temper was apparently cooling. \"I've never thought about it.\"\n\n\"No, I suppose you'd have little reason to.\" With a nod, he turned to walk away.\n\nJo took a step after him. \"Keane.\" His name raced through her lips before she could prevent it. When he turned back to her, she realized she could not ask any of the dozens of questions that flew through her mind. There was only one she felt she had any right to ask. \"Have you thought any more about what you're going to do with us . . . with the circus?\"\n\nFor an instant she saw temper flare again into his eyes. \"No.\" The word was curt and final. As he turned his back on her again, she felt a spurt of anger and reached for his arm.\n\n\"How can you be so callous, so unfeeling?\" she demanded. \"How is it possible to be so casual when you hold the lives of over a hundred people in your hands?\"\n\nCarefully, he removed her hand from his arm. \"Don't push me, Jo.\" There was warning in his eyes and in his voice.\n\n\"I'm not trying to,\" she returned, then ran a frustrated hand through her hair. \"I'm only asking you to be fair, to be . . . kind,\" she finished lamely.\n\n\"Don't ask me anything,\" he ordered in a brisk, authoritative tone. Jo's chin rose in response. \"I'm here,\" he reminded her. \"You'll have to be satisfied with that for now.\"\n\nJo battled with her temper. She could not deny that in coming back he had proved himself true to his word. She had the rest of the season if nothing else. \"I don't suppose I have any choice,\" she said quietly.\n\n\"No,\" he agreed with a faint nod. \"You don't.\"\n\nFrowning, Jo watched him stride away in a smooth, fluid gait she was forced to admire. She noticed for the first time that her palms were as damp as Gerry's had been. Annoyed, she rubbed them over her hips.\n\n\"Want to talk about it?\"\n\nJo turned quickly to find Jamie behind her in full clown gear. She knew her preoccupation had been deep for her to be caught so completely unaware. \"Oh, Jamie, I didn't see you.\"\n\n\"You haven't seen anything but Prescott since you stepped out of the cage,\" Jamie pointed out.\n\n\"What are you doing in makeup?\" she asked, skirting his comment.\n\nHe gestured toward the dog at her feet. \"This mutt won't respond to me unless I'm in my face. Do you want to talk about it?\"\n\n\"Talk about what?\"\n\n\"About Prescott, about the way you feel about him.\"\n\nThe dog sat patiently at Jamie's heels and thumped his tail. Casually, Jo stopped and ruffled his gray fur.\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"Look, I'm not saying it can't work out, but I don't want to see you get hurt. I know how it is to be nuts about somebody.\"\n\n\"What in the world makes you think I'm nuts about Keane Prescott?\" Jo gave the dog her full attention.\n\n\"Hey, it's me, remember?\" Jamie took her arm and pulled her to her feet. \"Not everybody would've noticed, maybe, but not everybody knows you the way I do. You've been miserable since he went back to Chicago, looking for him in every car that drove on the lot. And just now, when you saw him, you lit up like the midway on Saturday night. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you being in love with him, but\u2014\"\n\n\"In love with him?\" Jo repeated, incredulous.\n\n\"Yeah.\" Jamie spoke patiently. \"In love with him.\"\n\nJo stared at Jamie as the realization slid over her. \"In love with him,\" she murmured, trying out the words. \"Oh, no.\" She sighed, closing her eyes. \"Oh, no.\"\n\n\"Didn't you have enough sense to figure it out for yourself?\" Jamie said gently. Seeing Jo's distress, he ran a hand gently up her arm.\n\n\"No, I guess I'm pretty stupid about this sort of thing.\" Jo opened her eyes and looked around, wondering if the world should look any different. \"What am I going to do?\"\n\n\"Heck, I don't know.\" Jamie kicked sawdust with an oversized shoe. \"I'm not exactly getting rave notices myself in that department.\" He gave Jo a reassuring pat. \"I just wanted you to know that you always have a sympathetic ear here.\" He grinned engagingly before he turned to walk away, leaving Jo distracted and confused.\n\n***\n\nJo spent the rest of the afternoon absorbed with the idea of being in love with Keane Prescott. For a short time she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation, the novel experience of loving someone not as a friend but as a lover. She could feel the light and the power spread through her, as if she had caught the sun in her hand. She daydreamed.\n\nKeane was in love with her. He'd told her hundreds of times as he'd held her under a moonlit sky. He wanted to marry her, he couldn't bear to live without her. She was suddenly sophisticated and worldly enough to deal with the country club set on their own ground. She could exchange droll stories with the wives of other attorneys. There would be children and a house in the country. How would it feel to wake up in the same town every morning? She would learn to cook and give dinner parties. There would be long, quiet evenings when they would be alone together. There would be candlelight and music. When they slept together, his arms would stay around her until morning.\n\nIdiot. Jo dragged herself back sternly. As she and Pete fed the cats, she tried to remember that fairy tales were for children. None of those things are ever going to happen, she reminded herself. I have to figure out how to handle this before I get in any deeper.\n\n\"Pete,\" she began, keeping her voice conversational as she put Abra's quota of raw meat on a long stick. \"Have you ever been in love?\"\n\nPete chewed his gum gently, watching Jo hoist the meat through the bars. \"Well, now, let's see.\" Thrusting out his lower lip, he considered. \"Only 'bout eight or ten times, I guess. Maybe twelve.\"\n\nJo laughed, moving down to the next cage. \"I'm serious,\" she told him. \"I mean _really_ in love.\"\n\n\"I fall in love easy,\" Pete confessed gravely. \"I'm a pushover for a pretty face. Matter of fact, I'm a pushover for an ugly face.\" He grinned. \"Yes sir, the only thing like being in love is drawing an ace-high flush when the pot's ripe.\"\n\nJo shook her head and continued down the line. \"Okay, since you're such an expert, tell me what you do when you're in love with a person and the person doesn't love you back and you don't want that person to know that you're in love because you don't want to make a fool of yourself.\"\n\n\"Just a minute.\" Pete squeezed his eyes tight. \"I got to think this one through first.\" For a moment he was silent as his lips moved with his thoughts. \"Okay, let's see if I've got this straight.\" Opening his eyes, he frowned in concentration. \"You're in love\u2014\"\n\n\"I didn't say _I_ was in love,\" Jo interrupted hastily.\n\nPete lifted his brows and pursed his lips. \"Let's just use _you_ in the general sense to avoid confusion,\" he suggested. Jo nodded, pretending to absorb herself with the feeding of the cats. \"So, you're in love, but the guy doesn't love you. First off, you've got to be sure he doesn't.\"\n\n\"He doesn't,\" Jo murmured, then added quickly, \"Let's say he doesn't.\"\n\nPete shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, then shifted his gum to the other side of his mouth. \"Okay, then the first thing you should do is change his mind.\"\n\n\"Change his mind?\" Jo repeated, frowning at him.\n\n\"Sure.\" Pete gestured with his hand to show the simplicity of the procedure. \"You fall in love with him, then he falls in love with you. You play hard to get, or you play easy to get. Or you play flutter and smile.\" He demonstrated by coyly batting his lashes and giving a winsome smile. Jo giggled and leaned on the feeding pole. Pete in fielder's cap, white T-shirt and faded jeans was the best show she'd seen all day. \"You make him jealous,\" he continued. \"Or you flatter his ego. Girl, there're so many ways to get a man, I can't count them, and I've been gotten by them all. Yes, sir, I'm a real pushover.\" He looked so pleased with his weakness, Jo smiled. How easy it would be, she thought, if I could take love so lightly.\n\n\"Suppose I don't want to do any of those things. Suppose I don't really know how and I don't want to humiliate myself by making a mess of it. Suppose the person isn't\u2014well, suppose nothing could ever work between us, anyway. What then?\"\n\n\"You got too many supposes,\" Pete concluded, then shook his finger at her. \"And I got one for you. Suppose you ain't too smart because you figure you can't win even before you play.\"\n\n\"Sometimes people get hurt when they play,\" Jo countered quietly. \"Especially if they aren't familiar with the game.\"\n\n\"Hurting's nothing,\" Pete stated with a sweep of his hand. \"Winning's the best, but playing's just fine. This whole big life, it's a game, Jo. You know that. And the rules keep changing all the time. You've got nerve,\" he continued, then laid his rough, brown hand on her shoulder. \"More raw nerve than most anybody I've ever known. You've got brains, too, hungry brains. You going to tell me that with all that, you're afraid to take a chance?\"\n\nMeeting his eyes, Jo knew hypothetical evasions would not do. \"I suppose I only take calculated risks, Pete. I know my turf; I know my moves. And I know exactly what'll happen if I make a mistake. I take a chance that my body might be clawed, not my emotions. I've never rehearsed for anything like this, and I think playing it cold would be suicide.\"\n\n\"I think you've got to believe in Jo Wilder a little more,\" Pete countered, then gave her cheek a quick pat.\n\n\"Hey, Jo.\" Looking over, Jo saw Rose approaching. She wore straight-leg jeans, a white peasant blouse and a six-foot boa constrictor over her shoulders.\n\n\"Hello, Rose.\" Jo handed Pete the feeding pole. \"Taking Baby out for a walk?\"\n\n\"He needed some air.\" Rose gave her charge a pat. \"I think he got a little carsick this morning. Does he look peaked to you?\"\n\nJo looked down at the shiny, multicolored skin, then studied the tiny black eyes as Rose held Baby's head up for inspection. \"I don't think so,\" she decided.\n\n\"Well, it's a warm day,\" Rose observed, releasing Baby's head. \"I'll give him a bath. That might perk him up.\"\n\nJo noticed Rose's eyes darting around the compound. \"Looking for Jamie?\"\n\n_\"Hmph.\"_ Rose tossed her black curls. \"I'm not wasting my time on that one.\" She stroked the latter half of Baby's anatomy. \"I'm indifferent.\"\n\n\"That's another way to do it,\" Pete put in, giving Jo a nudge. \"I forgot about that one. It's a zinger.\"\n\nRose frowned at Pete, then at Jo. \"What's he talking about?\"\n\nWith a laugh, Jo sat down on a water barrel. \"Catching a man,\" she told her, letting the warm sun play on her face. \"Pete's done a study on it from the male point of view.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Rose threw Pete her most disdainful look. \"You think I'm indifferent so he'll get interested?\"\n\n\"It's a zinger,\" Pete repeated, adjusting his cap. \"You get him confused so he starts thinking about you. You make him crazy wondering why you don't notice him.\"\n\nRose considered the idea. \"Does it usually work?\"\n\n\"It's got an eighty-seven percent success average,\" Pete assured her, then gave Baby a friendly pat. \"It even works with cats.\" He jerked his thumb behind him and winked at Jo. \"The pretty lady cat, she sits there and stares off into space like she's got important things occupying her mind. The boy in the next cage is doing everything but standing on his head to get her attention. She just gives herself a wash, pretending she doesn't even know he's there. Then, maybe after she's got him banging his head against the bars, she looks over, blinks her big yellow eyes and says, 'Oh, were you talking to me?'\" Pete laughed and stretched his back muscles. \"He's hooked then, brother, just like a fish on a line.\"\n\nRose smiled at the image of Jamie dangling from her own personal line. \"Maybe I won't put Baby in Carmen's trailer after all,\" she murmured. \"Oh, look, here comes Duffy and the owner.\" An inherent flirt, Rose instinctively fluffed her hair. \"Really, he is the most handsome man. Don't you think so, Jo?\"\n\nJo's eyes had already locked on Keane's. She seemed helpless to release herself from the gaze. Gripping the edge of the water barrel tightly, she reminded herself not to be a fool. \"Yes,\" she agreed with studied casualness. \"He's very attractive.\"\n\n\"Your knuckles are turning white, Jo,\" Pete muttered next to her ear.\n\nLetting out a frustrated breath, Jo relaxed her hands. Straightening her spine, she determined to show more restraint. Control, she reminded herself, was the basic tool of her trade. If she could train her emotions and outbluff a dozen lions, she could certainly outbluff one man.\n\n\"Hello, Duffy.\" Rose gave the portly man a quick smile, then turned her attention to Keane. \"Hello, Mr. Prescott. It's nice to have you back.\"\n\n\"Hello, Rose.\" He smiled into her upturned face, then lifted a brow as his eyes slid over the reptile around her neck and shoulders. \"Who's your friend?\"\n\n\"Oh, this is Baby.\" She patted one of the tan-colored saddle marks on Baby's back.\n\n\"Of course.\" Jo noticed how humor enhanced the gold of his eyes. \"Hello, Pete.\" He gave the handler an easy nod before his gaze shifted and then lingered on Jo.\n\nAs on the first day they had met, Keane did not bother to camouflage his stare. His look was cool and assessing. He was reaffirming ownership. It shot through Jo that yes, she was in love with him, but she was also afraid of him. She feared his power over her, feared his capacity to hurt her. Still, her face registered none of her thoughts. Fear, she reminded herself as her eyes remained equally cool on his, was something she understood. Love might cause impossible problems, but fear could be dealt with. She would not cower from him, and she would honor the foremost rule of the arena. She would not turn and run.\n\nSilently, they watched each other while the others looked on with varying degrees of curiosity. There was the barest touch of a smile on Keane's lips. The battle of wills continued until Duffy cleared his throat.\n\n\"Ah, Jo.\"\n\nCalmly, without hurry, she shifted her attention. \"Yes, Duffy?\"\n\n\"I just sent one of the web girls into town to see the local dentist. Seems she's got an abscess. I need you to fill in tonight.\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Just for the web and the opening spectacular,\" he continued. Unable to prevent himself, he cast a quick look at Keane to see if he was still staring at her. He was. Duffy shifted uncomfortably and wondered what the devil was going on. \"Take your usual place in the finale. We'll just be one girl shy in the chorus. Wardrobe'll fix you up.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Jo smiled at him, though she was very much aware of Keane's eyes on her. \"I guess I'd better go practice walking in those three-inch heels. What position do I take?\"\n\n\"Number four rope.\"\n\n\"Duffy,\" Rose chimed in and tugged on his sleeve. \"When are you going to let me do the web?\"\n\n\"Rose, how's a pint-sizer like you going to stand up with that heavy costume on?\" Duffy shook his head at her, keeping a respectable distance from Baby. After thirty-five years of working carnies, sideshows and circuses, he still was uneasy around snakes.\n\n\"I'm pretty strong,\" Rose claimed, stretching her spine in the hope of looking taller. \"And I've been practicing.\" Anxious to demonstrate her accomplishments, Rose deftly unwound Baby. \"Hold him a minute,\" she requested and dumped several feet of snake into Keane's arms.\n\n\"Ah . . .\" Keane shifted the weight in his arms and looked dubiously into Baby's bored eyes. \"I hope he's eaten recently.\"\n\n\"He had a nice breakfast,\" Rose assured him, going into a fluid backbend to show Duffy her flexibility.\n\n\"Baby won't eat owners,\" Jo told Keane. She did not bother to suppress her grin. It was the first time she had seen him disconcerted. \"Just a stray towner, occasionally. Rose keeps him on a strict diet.\"\n\n\"I assume,\" Keane began as Baby slithered into a more comfortable position, \"that he's aware I'm the owner.\"\n\nGrinning at Keane's uncomfortable expression, Jo turned to Pete. \"Gee, I don't know. Did anybody tell Baby about the new owner?\"\n\n\"Haven't had a chance, myself,\" Pete drawled, taking out a fresh stick of gum. \"Looks a lot like a towner, too. Baby might get confused.\"\n\n\"They're just teasing you, Mr. Prescott,\" Rose told him as she finished her impromptu audition with a full split. \"Baby doesn't eat people at all. He's docile as a lamb. Little kids come up and pet him during a demonstration.\" She rose and brushed off her jeans. \"Now, you take a cobra . . .\"\n\n\"No, thank you,\" Keane declined, unloading the six-foot Baby back into Rose's arms.\n\nRose slipped the boa back around her neck. \"Well, Duffy, I'm off. What do you say?\"\n\n\"Get one of the girls to teach you the routine,\" he said with a nod. \"Then we'll see.\" Smiling, he watched Rose saunter away.\n\n\"Hey, Duffy!\" It was Jamie. \"There's a couple of towners looking for you. I sent them over to the red wagon.\"\n\n\"Fine. I'll just go right on along with you.\" Duffy winked at Jo before turning to catch up with Jamie's long stride.\n\nKeane was standing very close to the barrels. Jo knew getting down from her perch was risky. She knew, too, however, that her pulse was beginning to behave erratically despite her efforts to control it. \"I've got to see about my costume.\" Nimbly, she came down, intending to skirt around him. Even as her boots touched the ground, his hands took her waist. Exercising every atom of willpower, she neither jerked nor struggled but lifted her eyes calmly to his.\n\nHis thumbs moved in a lazy arch. She could feel the warmth through the fabric of her blouse. With her entire being she wished he would not hold her. Then, perversely, she wished he would hold her closer. She struggled not to weaken as her lips grew warm under the kiss of his eyes. Her heart began to hammer in her ears.\n\nKeane ran a hand down the length of her long, thick braid. Slowly, his eyes drifted back to hers. Abruptly, he released her and backed up to let her pass. \"You'd best go have wardrobe take a few tucks in that costume.\"\n\nDeciding she was not meant to decipher his changing moods, Jo stepped by him and crossed the compound. If she spent enough time working, she could keep her thoughts from dwelling on Keane Prescott. Maybe. __\n**Chapter Seven**\n\nThe Big Top was packed for the evening show. Jo watched the anticipation in the range of faces as she took her temporary position in the opening spectacular. The band played jumpy, upbeat music, leaning heavily on brass as the theme parade marched around the hippodrome track. As the substitute Bo Peep, Jo wore a demure mobcap and a wide crinoline skirt and led a baby lamb on a leash. Because her act came so swiftly on the tail of the opening, she rarely participated in the spectacular. Now she enjoyed a close-up look at the audience. In the cage, she blocked them out almost completely.\n\nThey were, she decided, a well-mixed group: young babies, older children, parents, grandparents, teenagers. They gave the pageant enthusiastic applause. Jo smiled and waved as she performed the basic choreography with hardly a thought.\n\nAfter a quick costume change, she took her cue as Queen of the Jungle Cats. After that followed another costume change that transformed her into one of the Twelve Spinning Butterflies.\n\n\"Just heard,\" Jamie whispered in her ear as she took the customary pose by the rope. \"You got the job for the next week. Barbara won't be able to handle the teeth grip.\"\n\nJo shifted her shoulders to compensate for the weight of her enormous blue wings. \"Rose is going to learn the routine,\" she mumbled back, smiling in the flood of the sunlight. \"Duffy's giving her the job if she can stand up under this blasted costume.\" She made a quick, annoyed sound and smiled brightly. \"It weighs a ton.\"\n\nSlowly, to the beat of the waltz the band played, Jo climbed hand over hand up the rope. \"Ah, show biz,\" she heard Jamie sigh. She vowed to poke him in the ribs when she took her bow. Then, hooking her foot in the hoop, she began the routine, imitating the other eleven Spinning Butterflies.\n\nShe was able to share a cup of coffee with Rose's mother when she returned the butterfly costume to wardrobe and changed into her own white and gold jumpsuit. Her muscles complained a bit due to the unfamiliar weight of the wings, and she gave a passing thought to a long, luxurious bath. That was a dream for September, she reminded herself. Showers were the order of the day on the road.\n\nJo's last duty in the show was to stand on the head of Maggie, the key elephant in the finale's long mount. Sturdy and dependable, Maggie stood firm while four elephants on each side of her rose on their hind legs, resting their front legs on the back of the one in front. Atop Maggie's broad head, Jo stood glittering under the lights with both arms lifted in the air. It was here, more than any other part of the show, that the applause washed over her. It merged with the music, the ringmaster's whistle, the laughter of children. Where she had been weary, she was now filled with energy. She knew the fatigue would return, so she relished the power of the moment all the more. For those few seconds there was no work, no long hours, no predawn drives. There was only magic. Even when it was over and she slid from Maggie's back, she could still feel it.\n\nOutside the tent, troupers and roustabouts and shandies mingled. There were anecdotes to exchange, performances to dissect, observations to be made. Gradually, they drifted away alone, in pairs or in groups. Some would change and help strike the tents, some would sleep, some would worry over their performances. Too energized to sleep, Jo planned to assist in the striking of the Big Top.\n\nShe switched on a low light as she entered her trailer, then absently braided her hair as she moved to the tiny bath. With quick moves she creamed off her stage makeup. The exotic exaggeration of her eyes was whisked away, leaving the thick fringe of her lashes and the dark green of her irises unenhanced. The soft bloom of natural rose tinted her cheeks again, and her mouth, unpainted, appeared oddly vulnerable. Accustomed to the change, Jo did not see the sharp contrast between Jovilette the performer and the small, somewhat fragile woman in the glittering jumpsuit. With her face naked and the simple braid hanging down her back, the look of the wild, of the gypsy, was less apparent. It remained in her movements, but her face rinsed of all artifice and unframed, was both delicate and young, part ingenue, part flare. But Jo saw none of this as she reached for her front zipper. Before she could pull it down, a knock sounded on her door.\n\n\"Come in,\" she called out and flicked her braid behind her back as she started down the aisle. She stopped in her tracks as Keane stepped through the door.\n\n\"Didn't anyone ever tell you to ask who it is first?\" He shut the door behind him and locked it with a careless flick of his wrist. \"You might not have to lock your door against the circus people,\" he continued blandly as she remained still, \"but there are several dozen curious towners still hanging around.\"\n\n\"I can handle a curious towner,\" Jo replied. The offhand quality of his dominance was infuriating. \"I never lock my door.\"\n\nThere was stiffness and annoyance in her voice. Keane ignored them both. \"I brought you something from Chicago.\"\n\nThe casual statement succeeded in throwing Jo's temper off the mark. For the first time, she noticed the small package he carried. \"What is it?\" she asked.\n\nKeane smiled and crossed to her. \"It's nothing that bites,\" he assured her, then held it out.\n\nStill cautious, Jo lifted her eyes to his, then dropped her gaze back to the package. \"It's not my birthday,\" she murmured.\n\n\"It's not Christmas, either,\" Keane pointed out.\n\nThe easy patience in the tone caused Jo to lift her eyes again. She wondered how it was he understood her hesitation to accept presents. She kept her gazed locked on his. \"Thank you,\" she said solemnly as she took the gift.\n\n\"You're welcome,\" Keane returned in the same tone.\n\nThe amenities done, Jo recklessly ripped the paper. \"Oh! It's Dante,\" she exclaimed, tearing off the remaining paper and tossing it on the table. With reverence she ran her palm over the dark leather binding. The rich scent drifted to her. She knew her quota of books would have been limited to one a year had she bought a volume so handsomely bound. She opened it slowly, as if to prolong the pleasure. The pages were heavy and rich cream in color. The text was Italian, and even as she glanced over the first page, the words ran fluidly through her mind.\n\n\"It's beautiful,\" she murmured, overcome. Lifting her eyes to thank him again, Jo found Keane smiling down at her. Shyness enveloped her suddenly, all the more intense because she had so rarely experienced it. A lifetime in front of crowds had given her a natural confidence in almost any situation. Now color began to surge into her cheeks, and her mind was a jumble of words that would not come to order.\n\n\"I'm glad you like it.\" He ran a finger down her cheek. \"Do you always blush when someone gives you a present?\"\n\nBecause she was at a loss as to how to answer his question, Jo maneuvered around it. \"It was nice of you to think of me.\"\n\n\"It seems to come naturally,\" Keane replied, then watched Jo's lashes flutter down.\n\n\"I don't know what to say.\" She was able to meet his eyes again with her usual directness, but he had again touched her emotions. She felt inadequate to deal with her feelings or with his effect on her.\n\n\"You've already said it.\" He took the book from Jo's hand and paged through it. \"Of course, I can't read a word of it. I envy you that.\" Before Jo could ponder the idea of a man like Keane Prescott envying her anything, he looked back up and smiled. Her thoughts scattered like nervous ants. \"Got any coffee?\" he asked and set the book back down on the table.\n\n\"Coffee?\"\n\n\"Yes, you know, coffee. They grow it in quantity in Brazil.\"\n\nJo gave him a despairing look. \"I don't have any made. I'd fix you a cup, but I've got to change before I help strike the tents. The cookhouse will still be serving.\"\n\nKeane lifted a brow as he let his eyes wander over her face. \"Don't you think that between Bo Peep, lions and butterflies, you've done enough work tonight? By the way, you make a very appealing butterfly.\"\n\n\"Thank you, but\u2014\"\n\n\"Let's put it this way,\" Keane countered smoothly. He took the tip of her braid in his fingers. \"You've got the night off. I'll make the coffee myself if you show me where you keep it.\"\n\nThough she let out a windy sigh, Jo was more amused than annoyed. Coffee, she decided, was the least she could do after he had brought her such a lovely present. \"I'll make it,\" she told him, \"but you'll probably wish you'd gone to the cookhouse.\" With this dubious invitation, Jo turned and headed toward the kitchen. He made no sound, but she knew he followed her. For the first time, she felt the smallness of her kitchen.\n\nSetting an undersized copper kettle on one of the two burners, Jo flicked on the power. It was a simple matter to keep her back to him while she plucked cups from the cupboard. She was well aware that if she turned around in the compact kitchen, she would all but be in his arms.\n\n\"Did you watch the whole show?\" she asked conversationally as she pulled out a jar of instant coffee.\n\n\"Duffy had me working props,\" Keane answered. \"He seems to be making me generally useful.\"\n\nAmused, Jo twisted her head to grin at him. Instantly, she discovered her misstep in strategy. Keane's face was only inches from hers, and in his eyes she read his thoughts. He wanted her, and he intended to have her. Before she could shift her position, Keane took her shoulders and turned her completely around. Jo knew she had backed up against the bars.\n\nLeisurely, he began to loosen her hair, working his fingers through it until it pooled over her shoulders. \"I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you. It's hair to get lost in.\" His voice was soft as he took a generous handful. The gesture itself seemed to stake his claim. \"In the sun it shimmers with red lights, but in the dark it's like night itself.\" It came to her that each time she was close to him, she was less able to resist him. She became more lost in his eyes, more beguiled by his power. Already her mouth tingled with the memory of his kiss, with the longing for a new one. Behind them the kettle began a feverish whistle.\n\n\"The water,\" she managed and tried to move around him. With one hand in her hair, Keane kept her still as he turned off the burner. The whistle sputtered peevishly, then died. The sound echoed in Jo's head.\n\n\"Do you want coffee?\" he murmured as his fingers trailed to her throat.\n\nJo's eyes clung to his. Hers were enormous and direct, his quiet and searching. \"No,\" she whispered, knowing she wanted nothing more at that moment than to belong to him. He circled her throat with his hand and pressed his fingers against her pulse. It fluttered wildly.\n\n\"You're trembling.\" He could feel the light tremor of her body as he brought her closer. \"Is it fear?\" he demanded as his thumbs brushed over her lips. \"Or excitement?\"\n\n\"Both,\" she answered in a voice thickened with emotion. She made a tiny, confused sound as his palm covered her heart. Its desperate thudding increased. \"Are you . . .\" She stopped a moment because her voice was breathless and unsteady. \"Are you going to make love to me?\" Did his eyes really darken? she wondered dizzily. Or is it my imagination?\n\n\"Beautiful Jovilette,\" he murmured as his mouth lowered to hers. \"No pretensions, no evasions . . . irresistible.\" The quality of the kiss altered swiftly. His mouth was hungry on hers, and her response leaped past all caution. If loving him was madness, her heart reasoned, could making love take her further beyond sanity? Past wisdom and steeped in sensation, she let her heart rule her will. When her lips parted under his, it was not in surrender but in equal demand.\n\nKeane gentled the kiss. He kept her shimmering on the razor's edge of passion. His mouth teased, promised, then fed her growing need. He found the zipper at the base of her throat and pulled it downward slowly. Her skin was warm, and he sought it, giving a low sound of pleasure as her breast swelled under his hand. He explored without hurry, as if memorizing each curve and plane. Jo no longer trembled but became pliant as her body moved to the rhythm he set. Her sigh was spontaneous, filled with wonder and delight.\n\nWith a suddenness that took her breath away, Keane crushed her mouth beneath his in fiery urgency. Jo's instincts responded, thrusting her into a world she had only imagined. His hands grew rougher, more insistent. Jo realized he had relinquished control. They were both riding on the tossing waves of passion. This sea had no horizon and no depth. It was a drowning sea that pulled the unsuspecting under while promising limitless pleasure. Jo did not resist but dove deeper.\n\nAt first she thought the knocking was only the sound of her heart against her ribs. When Keane drew away, she murmured in protest and pulled him back. Instantly, his mouth was avid, but as the knocking continued, he swore and pulled back again.\n\n\"Someone's persistent,\" he muttered. Bewildered, Jo stared up at him. \"The door,\" he explained on a long breath.\n\n\"Oh.\" Flustered, Jo ran a hand through her hair and tried to collect her wits.\n\n\"You'd better answer it,\" Keane suggested as he pulled the zipper to her throat in one quick move. Jo broke the surface into reality abruptly. For a moment Keane watched her, taking in her flushed cheeks and tousled hair before he moved aside. Willing her legs to carry her, Jo walked to the front of the trailer. The door handle resisted, then she remembered that Keane had locked it, and she turned the latch.\n\n\"Yes, Buck?\" she said calmly enough when she opened the door to her handler.\n\n\"Jo.\" His face was in shadows, but she heard the distress in the single syllable. Her chest tightened. \"It's Ari.\"\n\nHe had barely finished the name before Jo was out of the trailer and running across the compound. She found both Pete and Gerry standing near Ari's cage.\n\n\"How bad?\" she demanded as Pete came to meet her.\n\nHe took her shoulders. \"Really bad this time, Jo.\"\n\nFor a moment she wanted to shake her head, to deny what she read in Pete's eyes. Instead, she nudged him aside and walked to Ari's cage. The old cat lay on his side as his chest lifted and fell with the effort of breathing. \"Open it,\" she ordered Pete in a voice that revealed nothing. There was the jingle of keys, but she did not turn.\n\n\"You're not going in there.\" Jo heard Keane's voice and felt a restraining grip on her shoulders. Her eyes were opaque as she looked up at him.\n\n\"Yes, I am. Ari isn't going to hurt me or anyone else. He's just going to die. Now leave me alone.\" Her voice was low and toneless. \"Open it,\" she ordered again, then pulled out of Keane's loosened hold. The bars rattled as he slid the door open. Hearing it, Jo turned, then hoisted herself into the cage.\n\nAri barely stirred. Jo saw, as she knelt beside him, that his eyes were open. They were glazed with weariness and pain. \"Ari,\" she sighed, seeing there would be no tomorrow for him. His only answer was a hollow wheezing. Putting a hand to his side, she felt the ragged pace of his breathing. He made an effort to respond to her touch, to his name, but managed only to shift his great head on the floor. The gesture tore at Jo's heart. She lowered her face to his mane, remembering him as he had once been: full of strength and a terrifying beauty. She lifted her face again and took one long, steadying breath. \"Buck.\" She heard him approach but kept her eyes on Ari. \"Get the medical kit. I want a hypo of pentobarbital.\" She could feel Buck's brief hesitation before he spoke.\n\n\"Okay, Jo.\"\n\nShe sat quietly, stroking Ari's head. In the distance were the sounds of the Big Top going down, the call of men, the rattle of rigging, the clang of wood against metal. An elephant trumpeted, and three cages down, Faust roared half-heartedly in response.\n\n\"Jo.\" She turned her head as Buck called her and pushed her hair from her eyes. \"Let me do it.\"\n\nJo merely shook her head and held out her hand.\n\n\"Jo.\" Keane stepped up to the bars. His voice was gentle, but his eyes were so like the cat's at her knees, Jo nearly sobbed aloud. \"You don't have to do this yourself.\"\n\n\"He's my cat,\" she responded dully. \"I said I'd do it when it was time. It's time.\" Her eyes shifted to Buck. \"Give me the hypo, Buck. Let's get it done.\" When the syringe was in her hand, Jo stared at it, then closed her fingers around it. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Ari. His eyes were on her face. After more than twenty years in captivity there was still something not quite tamed in the dying cat. But she saw trust in his eyes and wanted to weep. \"You were the best,\" she told him as she passed a hand through his mane. \"You were always the best.\" Jo felt a numbing cold settling over her and prayed it would last until she had finished. \"You're tired now. I'm going to help you sleep.\" She pulled the safety from the point of the hypodermic and waited until she was certain her hands were steady. \"This won't hurt, nothing is going to hurt you anymore.\"\n\nInvoluntarily, Jo rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth, then, moving quickly, she plunged the needle into Ari's shoulder. A quiet whimper escaped her as she emptied the syringe. Ari made no sound but continued to watch her face. Jo offered no words of comfort but sat with him, methodically stroking his fur as his eyes grew cloudy. Gradually, the effort of his breathing lessened, becoming quieter and quieter until it wasn't there at all. Jo felt him grow still, and her hand balled into a fist inside the mass of his mane. One quick, convulsive shudder escaped her. Steeling herself, she moved from the cage, closing the door behind her. Because her bones felt fragile, she kept them stiff, as though they might shatter. Even as she stepped back to the ground, Keane took her arm and began to lead her away.\n\n\"Take care of things,\" he said to Buck as they moved past.\n\n\"No.\" Jo protested, trying and failing to free her arm. \"I'll do it.\"\n\n\"No, you won't.\" Keane's tone held a quiet finality. \"Enough's enough.\"\n\n\"Don't tell me what to do,\" she said sharply, letting her grief take refuge in anger.\n\n\"I _am_ telling you,\" he pointed out. His hand was firm on her arm.\n\n\"You _can't_ tell me what to do,\" she insisted as tears rose treacherously in her throat. \"I want you to leave me alone.\"\n\nKeane stopped, then took her by the shoulders. His eyes caught the light of a waning moon. \"There's no way I'm going to leave you alone when you're so upset.\"\n\n\"My emotions have nothing to do with you.\" Even as she spoke, he took her arm again and pulled her toward her trailer. Jo wanted desperately to be alone to weep out her grief in private. The mourning belonged to her, and the tears were personal. As if her protests were nonexistent, he pulled her into the trailer and closed the door behind them. \"Will you get out of here?\" she demanded, frantically swallowing tears.\n\n\"Not until I know you're all right.\" Keane's answer was calm as he walked back to the kitchen.\n\n\"I'm perfectly all right.\" Her breath shuddered in and out quickly. \"Or I will be when you leave me alone. You have no right to poke your nose in my business.\"\n\n\"So you've told me before,\" Keane answered mildly from the back of the trailer.\n\n\"I just did what had to be done.\" She held her body rigid and fought against her own quick, uneven breathing. \"I put a sick animal out of his misery; it's as simple as that.\" Her voice broke, and she turned away, hugging her arms. \"For heaven's sake, Keane, go away!\"\n\nQuietly, he walked back to her carrying a glass of water. \"Drink this.\"\n\n\"No.\" She whirled back to him. Tears spilled out of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks despite her efforts to banish them. Hating herself, she pressed the heel of her hand between her brows and closed her eyes. \"I don't want you here.\" Keane set down the glass, then gathered her into his arms. \"No, don't. I don't want you to hold me.\"\n\n\"Too bad.\" He ran a hand gently up and down her back. \"You did a very brave thing, Jo. I know you loved Ari. I know how hard it was to let him go. You're hurting, and I'm not leaving you.\"\n\n\"I don't want to cry in front of you.\" Her fists were tight balls at his shoulders.\n\n\"Why not?\" The stroking continued up and down her back as he cradled her head in the curve of his shoulder.\n\n\"Why won't you let me be?\" she sobbed as her control slipped. Her fingers gripped his shirt convulsively. \"Why am I always losing what I love?\" She let the grief come. She let his arms soothe her. As desperately as she had protested against it, she clung to his offer of comfort.\n\nShe made no objection as he carried her to the couch and cradled her in his arms. He stroked her hair, as she had stroked Ari, to ease the pain of what couldn't be changed. Slowly, her sobbing quieted. Still she lay with her cheek against his chest, with her hair curtaining her face.\n\n\"Better?\" he asked as the silence grew calmer. Jo nodded, not yet trusting her voice. Keane shifted her as he reached for the glass of water. \"Drink this now.\"\n\nGratefully, Jo relieved her dry throat, then went without resistance back against his chest. She closed her eyes, thinking it had been a very long time since she had been held in anyone's lap and soothed. \"Keane,\" she murmured. She felt his lips brush over the top of her head.\n\n_\"Hmm?\"_\n\n\"Nothing.\" Her voice thickened as she drifted toward sleep. \"Just Keane.\" __\n**Chapter Eight**\n\nJo felt the sun on her closed lids. There was the summer morning sound of excited birds. Her mind, levitating slowly toward the surface, told her it must be Monday. Only on Monday would she sleep past sunrise. That was the en route day, the only day in seven the circus held no show. She thought lazily of getting up. She would set aside two hours for reading. Maybe I'll drive into town and see a movie. What town are we in? With a sleepy sigh she rolled onto her stomach.\n\nI'll give the cats a good going-over, maybe hose them down if it gets hot enough. Memory flooded back and snapped her awake. _Ari._ Opening her eyes, Jo rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Now she recalled vividly how the old cat had died with his eyes trusting on her face. She sighed again. The sadness was still there, but not the sharp, desperate grief of the night before. Acceptance was settling in. She realized that Keane's insistence on staying with her during the peak of her mourning had helped her. He had given her someone to rail at, then someone to hold on to. She remembered the incredible comfort of being cradled in his lap, the solid dependability of his chest against her cheek. She had fallen asleep with the sound of his heart in her ear.\n\nTurning her head, Jo looked out the window, then at the patch of white light the sun tossed on the floor. But it isn't Monday, she remembered suddenly. It's Thursday. Jo sat up, pushing at her hair, which seemed to tumble everywhere at once. What was she doing in bed on a Thursday when the sun was up? Without giving herself time to work out the answer, she scrambled out of bed and hurried from the room. She gave a soft gasp as she ran headlong into Keane.\n\nHis hand ran down the length of her hair before he took her shoulder. \"I heard you stirring,\" he said easily, looking down into her stunned face.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Making coffee,\" he answered as he gave her a critical study. \"Or I was a moment ago. How are you?\"\n\n\"I'm all right.\" Jo lifted her hand to her temple as if to gain her bearings. \"I'm a bit disoriented, I suppose. I overslept. It's never happened before.\"\n\n\"I gave you a sleeping pill,\" Keane told her matter-of-factly. He slipped an arm around her shoulder as he turned back to the kitchen.\n\n\"A pill?\" Jo's eyes flew to his. \"I don't remember taking a pill.\"\n\n\"It was in the water you drank.\" On the stove the kettle began its piercing whistle. Moving to it, Keane finished making the coffee. \"I had my doubts as to whether you'd take it voluntarily.\"\n\n\"No, I wouldn't have,\" Jo agreed with some annoyance. \"I've never taken a sleeping pill in my life.\"\n\n\"Well, you did last night.\" He held out a mug of coffee. \"I sent Gerry for it while you were in the cage with Ari.\" Again he gave her a quick, intense study. \"It didn't seem to do you any harm. You went out like a light. I carried you to bed, changed your clothes\u2014\"\n\n\"Changed my . . .\" All at once Jo became aware that she wore only a thin white nightshirt. Her hand reached instinctively for the top button that nestled just above her bosom. Thinking hard, she found she could recall nothing beyond falling asleep in his arms.\n\n\"I don't think you'd have spent a very comfortable night in your costume,\" Keane pointed out. Enjoying his coffee, he smiled at the nervous hand she held between her breasts. \"I've had a certain amount of experience undressing women in the dark.\" Jo dropped her hand. It was an unmistakable movement of pride. Keane's eyes softened. \"You needed a good night's sleep, Jo. You were worn out.\"\n\nWithout speaking, Jo lifted her coffee to her lips and turned away. Walking to the window, she could see that the back yard was deserted. Her sleep must indeed have been deep to have kept her unaware of camp breaking.\n\n\"Everyone's gone but a couple of roustabouts and a generator truck. They'll take off when you don't need power anymore.\"\n\nThe vulnerability Jo felt was overwhelming. Several times in the course of the evening before, she had lost control, which had always been an essential part of her. Each time, it had been Keane who had been there. She wanted to be angry with him for intruding on her privacy but found it impossible. She had needed him, and he had known it.\n\n\"You didn't have to stay behind,\" she said, watching a crow swoop low over the ground outside.\n\n\"I wasn't certain you'd be in any shape to drive fifty miles this morning. Pete's driving my trailer.\"\n\nHer shoulders lifted and fell before she turned around. Sunlight streamed through the window at her back and poured through the thin folds of her nightshirt. Her body was a slender shadow. When she spoke, her voice was low with regret. \"I was horribly rude to you last night.\"\n\nKeane shrugged and lifted his coffee. \"You were upset.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Her eyes were an open reflection of her sorrow. \"Ari was very important to me. I suppose he was an ongoing link with my father, with my childhood. I'd known for some time he wouldn't make it through the season, but I didn't want to face it.\" She looked down at the mug she held gripped in both hands. A faint wisp of steam rose from it and vanished. \"Last night was a relief for him. It was selfish of me to wish it otherwise. And I was wrong to strike out at you the way I did. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"I don't want your apology, Jo.\" Because he sounded annoyed, she looked up quickly.\n\n\"I'd feel better if you'd take it, Keane. You've been very kind.\"\n\nTo her astonishment, he swore under his breath and turned back to the stove. \"I don't care for your gratitude any more than your apology.\" He set down his mug and poured in more coffee. \"Neither of them is necessary.\"\n\n\"They are to me,\" Jo replied, then took a step toward him. \"Keane . . .\" She set down her coffee and touched his arm. When he turned, she let impulse guide her. She rested her head on his shoulder and slipped her arms around his waist. He stiffened, putting his hands to her shoulders as if to draw her away. Then she heard his breath come out in a long sigh as he relaxed. For an instant he brought her closer.\n\n\"I never know precisely what to expect from you,\" he murmured. He lifted her chin with his finger. In automatic response, Jo closed her eyes and offered her mouth. She felt his fingers tighten on her skin before his lips brushed hers lightly. \"You'd better go change.\" His manner was friendly but cool as he stepped away. \"We'll stop off in town, and I'll buy you some breakfast.\"\n\nPuzzled by his attitude but satisfied he was no longer annoyed, Jo nodded. \"All right.\"\n\n***\n\nSpring became summer as the circus wound its way north. The sun stayed longer, peeking into the Big Top until well after the evening show began. Heavy rain came infrequently, but there were quick summer storms with thunder and lightning. Through June, Prescott's Circus Colossus snaked through North Carolina and into western Tennessee.\n\nDuring the long weeks while spring tripped over into summer, Jo found Keane's attitude a paradox. His friendliness toward her was offhand. He laughed if she said something amusing, listened if she had a complaint and to her confusion, slipped a thin barrier between them. At times she wondered if the passion that had flared between them the night he had returned from Chicago had truly existed. Had the desire she had tasted on his lips been a fantasy? The closeness she had felt blooming between them had withered and blown away. They were only owner and trouper now.\n\nKeane flew back to Chicago twice more during this period, but he brought no surprise presents back with him. Not once during those long weeks did he come by her trailer. Initially, his altered manner confused her. He was not angry. His mood was neither heated nor icy with temper but fell into an odd middle ground she could not understand. Jo ached with love. As days passed into weeks, she was forced to admit that Keane did not seem to be interested in a close relationship.\n\n***\n\nOn the eve of the July Fourth show, Jo sat sleepless in her bed. In her hand she held the volume of Dante, but the book was only a reminder of the emptiness she felt. She closed it, then stared at the ceiling. It's time to snap out of it, she lectured herself. It's time to stop pretending he was ever really part of my life. Loving someone only makes him a part of your wishes. He never talked about love, he never promised anything, never offered anything but what he gave to me. He's done nothing to hurt me. Jo squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the book between her fingers. How I wish I could hate him for showing me what life could be like and then turning away, she thought.\n\nBut I can't. Jo let out a shaky breath and relaxed her grip on the book. Gently, she ran a finger down its smooth, leather binding. I can't hate him, but I can't love him openly, either. How do I stop? I should be grateful he stopped wanting me. I would have made love with him. Then I'd hurt a hundred times more. Could I hurt a hundred times more? For several moments she lay still, trying to quiet her thoughts.\n\nIt's best not to know, she told herself sternly. It's best to remember he was kind to me when I needed him and that I haven't a right to make demands. Summer doesn't last forever. I may never see him again when it's over. At least I can keep the time we have pleasant.\n\nThe words sounded hollow in her heart. __\n**Chapter Nine**\n\nThe Fourth of July was a full day with a run to a new lot, the tent raising, a street parade and two shows. But it was a holiday. Elephants wore red, white and blue plumes atop their massive head. The evening performance would be held an hour earlier to allow for the addition of a fireworks display. Traditionally, Prescott's circus arranged to spend the holiday in the same small town in Tennessee. The license and paperwork for the display were seen to in advance, and the fireworks were shipped ahead to be stored in a warehouse. The procedure had been precisely the same for years. It was one of the circus's most profitable nights. Concessions thrived.\n\nJo moved through the day with determined cheerfulness. She refused to permit the distance between her and Keane to spoil one of the highlights of the summer. Brooding, she decided, would not change things. The mood of the crowd helped to keep her spirits light.\n\nBetween shows came the inevitable lull. Some troupers sat outside their trailers exchanging small talk and enjoying the sun. Others got in a bit more practice or worked out a few kinks. Bull hands washed down the elephants, causing a minor flood in the pen area.\n\nJo watched the bathing process with amusement. She never ceased to enjoy this particular aspect of circus life, especially if there were one or two inexperienced bull hands involved. Invariably, Maggie or one of the other veteran bulls would spray a trunkful of water over the new hands to initiate them. Though Jo knew the other hands encouraged it, they always displayed remarkable innocence.\n\nSpotting Duffy, Jo moved away from the elephant area and wandered toward him. She could see he was deep in discussion with a towner. He was as short as Duffy but wider, with what she had once heard Frank call a successful frame. His stomach started high and barreled out to below his waist. He had a ruddy complexion and pale eyes that squinted hard against the sun. Jo had seen his type before. She wondered what he was selling and how much he wanted for it. Since Duffy was puffing with annoyance, Jo assumed it was quite a lot.\n\n\"I'm telling you, Carlson, we've already paid for storage. I've got a signed receipt. And we pay fifteen bucks delivery, not twenty.\"\n\nCarlson was smoking a small, unfiltered cigarette and dropped it to the ground. \"You paid Myers for storage, not me. I bought the place six weeks ago.\" He shrugged his wide shoulders. \"Not my problem you paid in advance.\"\n\nLooking over, Jo saw Keane approaching with Pete. Pete was talking rapidly, Keane nodding. As Jo watched, Keane glanced up and gave Carlson a quick study. She had seen that look before and knew the older man had been assessed. Keane caught her eye, smiled and began to move past her. \"Hello, Jo.\"\n\nUnashamedly curious, Jo fell into step beside him. \"What's going on?\"\n\n\"Why don't we find out?\" he suggested as they stopped in front of Duffy and Carlson. \"Gentlemen,\" Keane said in an easy tone. \"Is there a problem?\"\n\n\"This character,\" Duffy spouted, jerking a scornful thumb at Carlson's face, \"wants us to pay twice for storage on the fireworks. Then he wants twenty for delivery when we agreed on fifteen.\"\n\n\"Myers agreed on fifteen,\" Carlson pointed out. He smiled without humor. \"I didn't agree on anything. You want your fireworks, you gotta pay for them first\u2014cash,\" he added, then spared Keane a glance. \"Who's this guy?\"\n\nDuffy began to wheeze with indignation, but Keane laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. \"I'm Prescott,\" he told him in untroubled tones. \"Perhaps you'd like to fill me in.\"\n\n\"Prescott, huh?\" Carlson stroked both his chins as he studied Keane. Seeing youth and amiable eyes, he felt closer to success. \"Well, now we're getting somewhere,\" he said jovially and stuck out his hand. Keane accepted it without hesitation. \"Jim Carlson,\" he continued as he gave Keane's hand a brisk pump. \"Nice circus you got here, Prescott. Me and the missus see it every year. Well, now,\" he said again and hitched up his belt. \"Seeing as you're a businessman, too, I'm sure we can straighten all this out. Problem is, your fireworks've been stored in my warehouse. Now, I gotta make a living, they can't just sit there for free. I bought the place off Myers six weeks ago. I can't be held responsible for a deal you made with him, can I?\" Carlson gave a stretched-lip smile, pleased that Keane listened so politely. \"And as for delivery, well . . .\" He made a helpless gesture and patted Keane's shoulder. \"You know about gas prices these days, son. But we can work that out after we settle this other little problem.\"\n\nKeane nodded agreeably. \"That sounds reasonable.\" He ignored Duffy's huffing and puffing. \"You do seem to have a problem, Mr. Carlson.\"\n\n\"I don't have a problem,\" Carlson countered. His smile suffered a fractional slip. \"You've got the problem, unless you don't want the fireworks.\"\n\n\"Oh, we'll have the fireworks, Mr. Carlson,\" Keane corrected with a smile Jo thought more wolfish than friendly. \"According to paragraph three, section five, of the small business code, the lessor is legally bound by all contracts, agreements, liens and mortgages of the previous lessor until such time as all aforesaid contracts, agreements, liens and mortgages are expired or transferred.\"\n\n\"What the . . .\" Carlson began with no smile at all, but Keane continued blandly.\n\n\"Of course, we won't pursue the matter in court as long as we get our merchandise. But that doesn't solve your problem.\"\n\n\"My problem?\" Carlson sputtered while Jo looked on in frank admiration. \"I haven't got a problem. If you think . . .\"\n\n\"Oh, but you do, Mr. Carlson, though I'm sure there was no intent to break the law on your part.\"\n\n\"Break the law?\" Carlson wiped damp hands on his slacks.\n\n\"Storing explosives without a license,\" Keane pointed out. \"Unless, of course, you obtained one after your purchase of the warehouse.\"\n\n\"Well, no, I . . .\"\n\n\"I was afraid of that.\" Keane lifted his brow in pity. \"You see, in paragraph six of section five of the small business code it states that all licenses, permits and warrants shall be nontransferable. Authorization for new licenses, permits or warrants must be requested in writing by the current owner. Notarized, naturally.\" Keane waited a bit to allow Carlson to wrestle with the idea. \"If I'm not mistaken,\" he continued conversationally, \"the fine's pretty hefty in this state. Of course, sentencing depends on\u2014\"\n\n\"Sentencing?\" Carlson paled and mopped the back of his neck with a handkerchief.\n\n\"Look, tell you what.\" Keane gave Carlson a sympathetic smile. \"You get the fireworks over here and off your property. We don't have to bring the law in on something like this. Just an oversight, after all. We're both businessmen, aren't we?\"\n\nToo overwrought to detect sarcasm, Carlson nodded.\n\n\"That was fifteen on delivery, right?\"\n\nCarlson didn't hesitate but stuck the damp handkerchief back in his pocket and nodded again.\n\n\"Good enough. I'll have the cash for you on delivery. Glad to help you out.\"\n\nRelieved, Carlson turned and headed for his pickup. Jo managed to keep her features grave until he pulled off the lot. Simultaneously, Pete and Duffy began to hoot with laughter.\n\n\"Was it true?\" Jo demanded and took Keane's arm.\n\n\"Was what true?\" Keane countered, merely lifting a brow over the hysterics that surrounded him.\n\n\"'Paragraph three, section five, of the small business code,'\" Jo quoted.\n\n\"Never heard of it,\" Keane answered mildly, nearly sending Pete into orbit.\n\n\"You made it up,\" Jo said in wonder. \"You made it all up!\"\n\n\"Probably,\" Keane agreed.\n\n\"Smoothest con job I've seen in years,\" Duffy stated and gave Keane a parental slap on the back. \"Son, you could go into business.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Keane told him and grinned.\n\n\"I ever need a lawyer,\" Pete put in, pushing his cap further back on his head, \"I know where to go. You come on by the cookhouse tonight, Captain. We're having ourselves a poker game. Come on, Duffy, Buck's gotta hear about this.\"\n\nAs they moved off, Jo realized that Keane had been officially accepted. Before, he had been the legal owner but an outsider, a towner. Now he was one of them. Turning, she lifted her face to his. \"Welcome aboard.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" She saw he understood precisely what had been left unsaid.\n\n\"I'll see you at the game,\" she said before her smile became a grin. \"Don't forget your money.\"\n\nShe turned away, but Keane touched her arm, bringing her back to him. \"Jo,\" he began, puzzling her by the sudden seriousness of his eyes.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\nThere was a brief hesitation, then he shook his head. \"Nothing, never mind. I'll see you later.\" He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek, then walked away.\n\n***\n\nJo studied her hand impassively. On the deal, she had missed a heart flush by one card and now waited for someone to open. Casually, she moved her glance around the table. Duffy was puffing on a cigar, apparently unconcerned with the dwindling chips in front of him. Pete chewed his gum with equal nonchalance. Amy, the wife of the sword swallower, sat beside him, then Jamie, then Raoul. Directly beside Jo was Keane, who, like Pete, was winning consistently.\n\nThe pot grew. Chips clinked on the table. Jo discarded and was pleased to exchange a club for the fifth heart. She slipped it into her hand without blinking. Frank had taught her the game. Before the second round of betting, Jamie folded in disgust. \"Should never have taken Buck's seat,\" he muttered and frowned when Pete raised the bet.\n\n\"You got out cheap, kiddo,\" Duffy told him dolefully as he tossed in chips. \"I'm only staying in so I don't change my standard of living. Money'll do that to you,\" he mumbled obscurely.\n\n\"Three kings,\" Pete announced when called, then spread his cards. Amid a flutter of complaints cards were tossed down.\n\n\"Heart flush,\" Jo said mildly before Pete could rake in the pot. Duffy leaned back and gave a hoot of laughter.\n\n\"Attagirl, Jo. I hate to see him win all my money.\"\n\nDuring the next two hours the cookhouse tent grew hot and ripe with the scents of coffee and tobacco and beer. Jamie's luck proved so consistently poor that he called for Buck to relieve him.\n\nJo found herself with an indifferent pair of fives. Almost immediately the betting grew heavy as Keane raised Raoul's opening. Curiosity kept Jo in one round, but practicality had her folding after the draw. Divorced from the game, she watched it with interest. Leaning on her elbows, she studied each participant. Keane played a good game, she mused. His eyes gave nothing away. They never did. Casually, he nursed the beer beside him while Duffy, Buck and Amy folded. Studying him closely, Pete chewed his gum. Keane returned the look, keeping the stub of his cigar clamped between his teeth. Raoul muttered in French and scowled at his cards.\n\n\"Could be bluffing,\" Pete considered, seeing Keane's raise. \"Let's raise it five more and see what's cooking.\" Raoul swore in French, then again in English, before he tossed in his hand. Taking his time, Keane counted out the necessary chips and tossed them into the pot. It was a plastic mountain of red, white and blue. Then, he counted out more.\n\n\"I'll see your five,\" he said evenly, \"and raise it ten.\"\n\nThere was mumbling around the table. Pete looked into his hand and considered. Shifting his eyes, he took in the generous pile of chips in front of him. He could afford to risk another ten. Glancing up, he studied Keane's face while he fondled his chips. Abruptly, he broke into a grin.\n\n\"Nope,\" he said simply, turning his cards face down. \"This one's all yours.\"\n\nSetting down his cards, Keane raked in a very sweet pot. \"Gonna show 'em?\" Pete asked. His grin was affable.\n\nKeane pushed a stray chip into the pile and shrugged. With his free hand he turned over the cards. The reaction ranged from oaths to laughter.\n\n\"Trash,\" Pete mumbled with a shake of his head. \"Nothing but trash. You've got nerve, Captain.\" His grin grew wide as he turned over his own cards. \"Even I had a pair of sevens.\"\n\nRaoul gnashed his teeth and swore elegantly in two languages. Jo grinned at his imaginative choice of words. She rose on a laugh and snatched off the soft felt hat Jamie wore. Deftly, she scooped her chips into it. \"Cash me in later,\" she requested, then gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth. \"But don't play with them.\"\n\nDuffy scowled over at her. \"Aren't you cashing in early?\"\n\n\"You've always told me to leave 'em wanting more,\" she reminded him. With a grin and a wave, she swung through the door.\n\n\"That Jo,\" said Raoul, chuckling as he shuffled the cards. \"She's one smart cracker.\"\n\n\"Cookie,\" Pete corrected, opening a fresh stick of gum. He noticed that Keane's gaze had drifted to the door she had closed behind her. \"Some looker, too,\" he commented and watched Keane's eyes wander back to his. \"Don't you think, Captain?\"\n\nKeane slipped his cards into a pile as they were dealt to him. \"Jo's lovely.\"\n\n\"Like her mother,\" Buck put in, frowning at his cards. \"She was a beaut, huh, Duffy?\" Duffy grunted in agreement and wondered why Lady Luck refused to smile on him. \"Always thought it was a crime for her to die that way. Wilder, too,\" he added with a shake of his head.\n\n\"A fire, wasn't it?\" Keane asked as he picked up his cards and spread them.\n\n\"Electrical fire.\" Buck nodded and lifted his beer. \"A short in their trailer's wiring. What a waste. If they hadn't been in bed asleep, they'd probably still be alive. The trailer was halfway gone before anybody set up an alarm. Just plain couldn't get to the Wilders. Their side of the trailer was like a furnace. Jo's bedroom was on the other side, and we nearly lost her. Frank busted in the window and pulled her out. Poor little tyke. She was holding onto this old doll like it was the last thing she had left. Kept it with her for I don't know how long. Remember, Duffy?\" He glanced into his hand and opened for two. \"It only had one arm.\" Duffy grunted again and folded. \"Frank sure knew how to handle that little girl.\"\n\n\"She knew how to handle him, more likely,\" Duffy mumbled. Raoul bumped the pot five, and Keane folded.\n\n\"Deal me out the next hand,\" he said as he rose and moved to the door. One of the Gribalti brothers took the chair Jo had vacated, and Jamie slipped into Keane's. Curious, he lifted the tip of the cards. He saw a jack-high straight. With a thoughtful frown, he watched the door swing shut.\n\n***\n\nOutside, Jo moved through the warm night. With a glance at the sky, she thought of the fireworks. They had been wonderful, she mused, stirring up the stars with exploding color. Though it was over and a new day hovered, she felt some magic remained in the night. Far from sleepy, she wandered toward the Big Top.\n\n\"Hello, pretty lady.\"\n\nJo looked into the shadows and narrowed her eyes. She could just barely make out a form. \"Oh, you're Bob, aren't you?\" She stopped and gave him a friendly smile. \"You're new.\"\n\nHe stepped toward her. \"I've been on for nearly three weeks.\" He was young, Jo guessed about her own age, with a solid build and sharp-featured face. Just that afternoon she had watched Maggie give him a shower.\n\nJo pushed her hands into the pockets of her cut-offs and continued to smile. It appeared he thought his tenure made him a veteran. \"How do you like working with the elephants?\"\n\n\"It's okay. I like putting up the tent.\"\n\nJo understood his feeling. \"So do I. There's a game in the cookhouse,\" she told him with a gesture of her arm. \"You might like to sit in.\"\n\n\"I'd rather be with you.\" As he moved closer, Jo caught the faint whiff of beer. He's been celebrating, she thought and shook her head.\n\n\"It's a good thing tomorrow's Monday,\" she commented. \"No one's going to be in any shape to pitch a tent. You should go to bed,\" she suggested. \"Or get some coffee.\"\n\n\"Let's go to your trailer.\" Bob weaved a little, then took her arm.\n\n\"No.\" Firmly, Jo turned in the opposite direction. \"Let's go to the cookhouse.\" His advances did not trouble her. She was close enough to the cookhouse tent that if she called out, a dozen able-bodied men would come charging. But that was precisely what Jo wanted to avoid.\n\n\"I want to go with you,\" he said, stumbling over the words as he veered away from the cookhouse again. \"You look so pretty in that cage with those lions.\" He put both arms around her, but Jo felt it was as much for balance as romance. \"A fella needs a pretty lady once in a while.\"\n\n\"I'm going to feed you to my lions if you don't let me go,\" Jo warned.\n\n\"Bet you can be a real wildcat,\" he mumbled and made a fumbling dive for her mouth.\n\nThough her patience was wearing thin, Jo endured the kiss that landed slightly to the left of bull's-eye. His hands, however, had better aim and grabbed the firm roundness of her bottom. Losing her temper, Jo pushed away but found his hold had taken root. In a quick move, she brought up her fist and caught him square on the jaw. With only a faint sound of surprise, Bob sat down hard on the ground.\n\n\"Well, so much for rescuing you,\" Keane commented from behind her.\n\nTurning quickly, Jo pushed at her hair and gave an annoyed sigh. She would have preferred no witnesses. Even in the dim light, she could see he was furious. Instinctively, she stepped between him and the man who sat on the ground fingering his jaw and shaking the buzzing from his ears.\n\n\"He\u2014Bob just got a bit overenthusiastic,\" she said hastily and put a restraining hand on Keane's arm. \"He's been celebrating.\"\n\n\"I'm feeling a bit enthusiastic myself,\" Keane stated. As he made to brush her aside, Jo clung with more fervor.\n\n\"No, Keane, please.\"\n\nLooking down, he fired a glare. \"Jo, would you let go so that I can deal with this?\"\n\n\"Not until you listen.\" The faint hint of laughter in her eyes only enraged him further, and Jo fought to suppress it. \"Keane, please, don't be hard on him. He didn't hurt me.\"\n\n\"He was attacking you,\" Keane interrupted. He barely resisted the urge to shake her off and drag the still seated Bob by the scruff of the neck.\n\n\"No, he was really more just leaning on me. His balance is a trifle impaired. He only tried to kiss me,\" she pointed out, wisely deleting the wandering hands. \"And I hit him much harder than I should have. He's new, Keane, don't fire him.\"\n\nExasperated, he stared at her. \"Firing was the least of what I had in mind for him.\"\n\nJo smiled, unable to keep the gleam from her eyes. \"If you were going to avenge my honor, he really didn't do much more than breathe on it. I don't think you should run him through for that. Maybe you could just put him in the stocks for a couple of days.\"\n\nKeane swore under his breath, but a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. Seeing it, Jo loosened her hold. \"Miss Wilder wants to give you a break,\" he told the dazed Bob in a tough, no-nonsense voice that Jo decided he used for intimidating witnesses. \"She has a softer heart than I do. Therefore, I won't knock you down several more times or kick you off the lot, as I had entertained doing.\" He paused, allowing Bob time to consider this possibility. \"Instead, I'll let you sleep off your\u2014enthusiasm.\" In one quick jerk, he pulled Bob to his feet. \"But if I ever hear of you breathing uninvited on Miss Wilder or any other of my female employees, we'll go back to the first choice. And before I kick you out,\" he added with low menace, \"I'll let it be known that you were decked by one punch from a hundred-pound woman.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, Mr. Prescott,\" said Bob as clearly as possible.\n\n\"Go to bed,\" Jo said kindly, seeing him pale. \"You'll feel better in the morning.\"\n\n\"Obviously,\" Keane commented as Bob lurched away, \"you haven't done much drinking.\" He turned to Jo and grinned. \"The one thing he's not going to feel in the morning is better.\" Jo smiled, pleased to have Keane talk to her without the thin shield of politeness. \"And where,\" he asked and took her hand for examination, \"did you learn that right jab?\"\n\nJo laughed, allowing Keane's fingers to interlock with hers. \"It would hardly have knocked him down if he hadn't already been tilting in that direction.\" Her face turned up to his and sparkled with starlight. In his eyes an expression she couldn't comprehend came and went. \"Is something wrong?\"\n\nFor a moment he said nothing. In her breast her heart began to hammer as she waited to be kissed. \"No, nothing,\" he said. The moment was shattered. \"Come on, I'll walk you back to your trailer.\"\n\n\"I wasn't going there.\" Wanting to put him back into an easy mood, she linked her arm with his. \"If you come with me, I'll show you some magic.\" Her smile slanted invitingly. \"You like magic, don't you, Keane? Even a sober, dedicated lawyer must like magic.\"\n\n\"Is that how I strike you?\" Jo almost laughed at the trace of annoyance in his voice. \"As a sober, dedicated lawyer?\"\n\n\"Oh, not entirely, though that's part of you.\" She enjoyed feeling that for the moment she had him to herself. \"You've also got a streak of adventure and a rather nice sense of humor. And,\" she added with generous emphasis, \"there's your temper.\"\n\n\"You seem to have me all figured out.\"\n\n\"Oh, no.\" Jo stopped and turned to him. \"Not at all. I only know how you are here. I can only speculate on how you are in Chicago.\"\n\nHis brow lifted as she caught his attention. \"Would I be different there?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" Jo's forehead wrinkled in thought. \"Wouldn't you be? Circumstances would. You probably have a house or a big apartment, and there's a housekeeper who comes in once\u2014no, twice\u2014a week.\" Caught up in the picture, she gazed off into the distance and built it further. \"You have an office with a view of the city, a very efficient secretary and a brilliant law clerk. You go to business lunches at the club. In court you're deadly and very successful. You have your own tailor and work out at the gym three times a week. There's the theater on the weekends, along with something physical. Tennis maybe, not golf. No, handball.\"\n\nKeane shook his head. \"Is this the magic?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jo shrugged and began to walk again. \"Just guesswork. You don't have to have a great deal of money to know how people who do behave. And I know you take the law seriously. You wouldn't choose a career that wasn't very important to you.\"\n\nKeane walked in silence. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. \"I'm not certain I'm comfortable with your little outline of my life.\"\n\n\"It's very sketchy,\" Jo told him. \"I'd have to understand you better to fill in the gaps.\"\n\n\"Don't you?\"\n\n\"What?\" Jo asked, pausing. \"Understand you?\" She laughed, tickled at the absurdity of his question. \"No, I don't understand you. How could I? You live in a different world.\" With this, she tossed aside the flap of the Big Top and stepped into its darkness. When she hit the switch, two rows of overhead lights flashed on. Shadows haunted the corners and fell over the arena seats.\n\n\"It's wonderful, isn't it?\" Her clear voice ran the length of the tent and echoed back. \"It's not empty, you know. They're always here\u2014the troupers, the audience, the animals.\" She walked forward until she stood beside the third ring. \"Do you know what this is?\" she asked Keane, tossing out her arms and turning a full circle. \"It's an ageless wonder in a changing world. No matter what happens on the outside, this is here. We're the most fragile of circuses, at the mercy of the elephants, of emotions, of mechanics, of public whims. But six days a week for twenty-nine weeks we perform miracles. We build a world at dawn, then disappear into the dark. That's part of it\u2014the mystery.\" She waited until Keane moved forward to join her.\n\n\"Tents pop up on an empty lot, elephants and lions walk down Main Street. And we never grow old, because each new generation discovers us all over again.\" She stood slender and exquisite in a circle of light. \"Life here's crazy. And it's hard. Muddy lots, insane hours, sore muscles, but when you've finished your act and you get that feeling that tells you it was special, there's nothing else like it in the world.\"\n\n\"Is that why you do it?\" Keane asked.\n\nJo shook her head and moved out of the circle of light into the dark and into another ring. \"It's all part of the same thing. We all have our own reasons, I suppose. You've asked me that before; I'm not certain I can explain. Maybe it's that we all believe in miracles.\" She turned under the light, and it shimmered around her. \"I've been here all my life. I know every trick, every illusion. I know how Jamie's dad gets twenty clowns into a two-seater car. But each time I see it, I laugh and I believe it. It's not just the excitement, Keane, it's the anticipation of the excitement. It's knowing you're going to see the biggest or the smallest or the fastest or the highest.\" Jo ran to the center ring and threw up her arms.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen,\" she announced with a toss of her head. \"For your amazement and astonishment, for the first time in America, a superabundance of mountainous, mighty pachyderms led in a stupendous exhibition of choreography by the Great Serena.\" Jo laughed and shifted her hair to her back with a quick movement of her hand. \"Dancing elephants!\" she said to Keane, pleased that he was smiling. \"Or you listen to the talker in the sideshow when he starts his spiel. Step right up. Come a little closer.\" She curled her fingers in invitation. \"See the Amazing Serpentina and her monstrous, slithering vipers. Watch the beautiful young girl charm a deadly cobra. Watch her accept the reptilian embrace of the gargantuan boa. Don't miss the chance to see the enchantress of the evil serpent!\"\n\n\"I suppose Baby might sue for slander.\"\n\nJo laughed and stepped up on the ring. \"But when the crowds see little Rose with a boa constrictor wrapped around her shoulders, they've gotten their money's worth. We give them what they come for: color, fantasy, the unique. Thrills. You've seen the audience when Vito does his high wire act without a net.\"\n\n\"A net seems little enough protection when he's balancing on a wire at two hundred feet.\" Keane stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned. \"He risks his life every day.\"\n\n\"So does a police officer or a fire fighter.\" Jo spoke quietly and rested her hands on his shoulders. It seemed more necessary than ever that she make him understand his father's dream. \"I know what you're saying, Keane, but you have to understand us. The element of danger is essential to many of the acts. You can hear the whole audience suck in their breath when Vito does his back somersault on the wire. They'd be impressed if he used a net, but they wouldn't be terrified.\"\n\n\"Do they need to be?\"\n\nJo's sober expression lightened. \"Oh, yes! They need to be terrified and fascinated and mesmerized. It's all included in the price of a ticket. This is a world of superlatives. We test the limit of human daring, and every day it changes. Do you know how long it took before the first man accomplished the triple on the trapeze? Now it's nearly a standard.\" A light of anticipation flared in her eyes. \"One day someone will do a quadruple. If a man stands in this ring and juggles three torches today, tomorrow someone will juggle them on horseback and after that there'll be a team tossing them back and forth while swinging on a trap. It's our job to do the incredible, then, when it's done, to do the impossible. It's that simple.\"\n\n\"Simple,\" Keane murmured, then lifted a hand to caress her hair. \"I wonder if you'd think so if you could see it from the outside.\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as he buried his other hand in her hair. \"I never have.\"\n\nAs if his thoughts centered on it, Keane combed his fingers through her hair. Gradually, he pushed it back until only his hands framed her face. They stood in a pool of light that threw their shadows long behind them. \"You are so lovely,\" he murmured.\n\nJo neither spoke nor moved. There was something different this time in the way he touched her. There was a gentleness and a hesitation she had not felt before. Though they looked directly into hers, she could not read his eyes. Their faces were close, and his breath fluttered against her mouth. Jo slid her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.\n\nNot until that moment had she realized how empty she had felt, how desperately she had needed to hold him. Her lips were hungry for his. She clung while all gentleness fled from his touch. His hands were greedy. The weeks that he had not touched her were forgotten as her skin warmed and hummed with quickening blood. Passion stripped her of inhibitions, and her tongue sought his, taking the kiss into wilder and darker depths. Their lips parted, only to meet again with sharp new demands. She understood that all needs and all desires were ultimately only one\u2014Keane.\n\nHis mouth left hers, and for an instant he rested his cheek against her hair. For that moment Jo felt a contentment more complete than she had ever known. Abruptly, he drew away.\n\nPuzzled, she watched as he drew out a cigar. She lifted a hand to run it through the hair he had just disturbed. He flicked on his lighter. \"Keane?\" She looked at him, knowing her eyes offered everything.\n\n\"You've had a long day,\" he began in an oddly polite tone. Jo winced as if he had struck her. \"I'll walk you back to your trailer.\"\n\nShe stepped off the ring and away from him. Pain seared along her skin. \"Why are you doing this?\" To her humiliation, tears welled in her eyes and lodged in her throat. The tears acted as a prism, refracting the light and clouding her vision. She blinked them back. Keane's brows drew together at the gesture.\n\n\"I'll take you back,\" he said again. The detached tone of his voice accelerated all Jo's fury and grief.\n\n\"How dare you!\" she demanded. \"How dare you make me . . .\" The word _love_ nearly slipped through her lips, and she swallowed it. \"How dare you make me want you, then turn away! I was right about you from the beginning. I thought I'd been wrong. You're cold and unfeeling.\" Her breath came quickly and unevenly, but she refused to retreat until she had said it all. Her face was pale with the passion of her emotions. \"I don't know why I thought you'd ever understand what Frank had given you. You need a heart to see the intangible. I'll be glad when the season's over and you do whatever it is you're going to do. I'll be glad when I never have to see you again. I won't let you do this to me anymore!\" Her voice wavered, but she made no attempt to steady it. \"I don't want you to ever touch me again.\"\n\nKeane studied her for a long moment, then took a careful drag on his cigar. \"All right, Jo.\"\n\nThe very calmness of his answer tore a sob from her before she turned and ran from the Big Top. __\n**Chapter Ten**\n\nIn July the troupe circled through Virginia, touched the tip of West Virginia on their way into Kentucky, then moved into Ohio. Audiences fanned themselves as the temperatures in the Big Top rose, but they still came.\n\nSince the evening of the Fourth, Jo had avoided Keane. It was not as difficult as it might have been, as he spent half the month in Chicago dealing with his business. Jo functioned. She ate because eating was necessary in order to maintain her strength. She slept because rest was essential to remaining alert in the cage. She did not find any enjoyment in food nor was her sleep restful. Because so many in the troupe knew her well, Jo struggled to keep on a mask of normalcy. Above all, she needed to avoid any questions, any advice, any sympathy. It was necessary, because of her profession, to put her emotions on hold a great deal of the time. After some struggle and some failure, Jo achieved a reasonable success.\n\nHer training of Gerry continued, as did his progress. The additional duty of working with him helped fill her small snatches of spare time. On afternoons when no matinee was scheduled, Jo took him into the big cage. As he grew more proficient, she brought other cats in to join Merlin. By the first week in August they were working together with her full complement of lions.\n\nThe only others who were rehearsing in the Big Top were the equestrian act. They ran through the Thread the Needle routine in the first ring. Hooves echoed dully on tanbark. Jo supervised while Gerry sent the cats into a pyramid. At his urging, Lazarus climbed up the wide, arched ladder that topped the grouping. Twice he balked, and twice Gerry was forced to reissue the command.\n\n\"Good,\" Jo commented when the pyramid was complete.\n\n\"He wouldn't go.\" Gerry began to complain, but she cut him off.\n\n\"Don't be in too much of a hurry. Bring them down.\" Her tone was brisk and professional. \"Make certain they dismount and take their seats in the right order. It's important to stick to routine.\"\n\nHands resting on hips, Jo watched. In her opinion, Gerry had true potential. His nerves were good, he had a feeling for the animals, and he was slowly developing patience. Still she balked at the next step in his training: leaving him alone in the arena. Even with only Merlin, she felt it too risky. He was still too casual. Not yet did he possess enough respect for the lion's guile.\n\nJo moved around the arena, and the lions, used to her, were not disturbed. As the cats settled onto their pedestals, she once more moved to stand beside Gerry. \"Now we'll walk down the line. You make each do a sit-up before we send them out.\"\n\nOne by one the cats rose on their haunches and pawed the air. Jo and Gerry moved down their ranks. The heat was becoming oppressive, and Jo shifted her shoulders, longing for a cool shower and a change of clothes. When they came to Hamlet, he ignored the command with a rebellious snarl.\n\nBad-tempered brute, thought Jo absently as she waited for Gerry to reissue the command. He did so but moved forward as if to emphasize the words.\n\n\"No, not so close!\" Jo warned quickly. Even as she spoke, she saw the change in Hamlet's eyes.\n\nInstinctively, she stepped over, nudging Gerry back and shielding his body with hers. Hamlet struck out, claws extended. There was a moment of blind heat in her shoulder as the skin ripped. Swiftly, she was facing the cat, holding tightly onto Gerry's arm as they stood just out of range.\n\n\"Don't run,\" she ordered, feeling his jerk of panic. Her arm was on fire as the blood began to flow freely. Keeping her movements quick but smooth, she took the whip from Gerry's nerveless hand and cracked it hard, using her left arm. She knew that if Hamlet continued his defiance and attacked, it was hopeless. The other cats were certain to join in a melee. It would be over before anything could be done. Already, Abra shifted restlessly and bared her teeth.\n\n\"Open the chute,\" Jo called out. Her voice was cool as ice. \"Back toward the safety cage,\" she instructed Gerry as she gave the cats their signal to leave the arena. \"I've got to get them out one at a time. Move slow, and if I tell you to stop, you stop dead. Understand?\"\n\nShe heard him swallow as she watched the cats begin to leap off their pedestals and file into the chute. \"He got you. Is it bad?\" The words were barely a whisper and drenched in terror.\n\n\"I said go.\" Half the cats were gone, and still Hamlet's eyes were locked on hers. There was no time to waste. One part of her brain heard shouting outside the cage, but she blocked it out and focused all her concentration on the cat. \"Go now,\" she repeated to Gerry. \"Do as you're told.\"\n\nHe swallowed again and began to back away. Long seconds dragged until she heard the rattle of the safety cage door. When his turn came, Hamlet made no move to leave his seat. Jo was alone with him. She could smell the heat, the scent of the wild and the fragrance of her own blood. Her arm was alive with pain. Slowly, she tested him by backing up. The safety cage seemed hundreds of miles away. The cat tensed immediately, and she stopped. She knew he would not let her cross the arena. Outrunning him was impossible, as the distance between them could be covered in one spring. She had to outbluff him instead.\n\n\"Out,\" she ordered firmly. \"Out, Hamlet.\" As he continued to watch her, Jo felt a trickle of sweat slide down between her shoulder blades. Her skin was clammy with it in contrast to the warmth of the blood that ran down her arm. There was a sudden, vivid picture inside her head of her father being dragged around the cage. Fear tripped inside her throat. There was a lightness fluttering in the top of her head, and she knew that a moment's terror would cause her to faint. She stiffened her spine and pushed it away.\n\nSpeed was important. The longer she allowed the cat to remain in the arena after his cue, the more defiant he would become. And the more dangerous. As yet he was unaware that he held her at such a sharp disadvantage. \"Out, Hamlet.\" Jo repeated the command with a crack of the whip. He leaped from the pedestal. Jo's stomach trembled. She locked every muscle, and as the cat hesitated, she repeated the command. He was confused, and she knew this could work as an advantage or a curse. Confused, he might spring or retreat. Her fingers tightened on the stock of the whip and trembled. The cat paced nervously and watched her.\n\n\"Hamlet!\" She raised her voice and bit off each syllable. \"Go out.\" To the words she added the hand signal she had used before he was fully trained to voice command.\n\nAs if rebuffed, Hamlet relaxed his tail and padded into the chute. Before the door slid completely closed, Jo sank to her knees. Her body began to quake fiercely with the aftershock. No more than five minutes had passed since Hamlet had defied Gerry's command, but her muscles bore the strain of hours. For an instant her vision blurred. Even as she shook her head to clear it, Keane was on the ground beside her.\n\nShe heard him swear, ripping the tattered sleeve of her blouse from her arm. He fired questions at her, but she could do no more than shake her head and gulp in air. Focusing on him, she noticed his eyes were unusually dark against his face.\n\n\"What?\" She followed his voice but not the words. He swore again, sharply enough to penetrate the first layer of her shock. He pulled her to her feet, then continuing the motion smoothly, lifted her into his arms. \"Don't.\" Her mind struggled to break through the fog and function. \"I'm all right.\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" he said harshly as he carried her from the cage. \"Just shut up.\"\n\nBecause speaking cost her some effort, Jo obeyed. Closing her eyes, she let the mixture of excited voices whirl around her. Her arm screamed with pain, but the throbbing reassured her. Numbness would have terrified her. Still she kept her eyes shut, not yet having the courage to look at the damage. Being alive was enough.\n\nWhen she opened her eyes again, Keane was carrying her into the administration wagon. At the sound of the chaos that followed them, Duffy strode through from his office. \"What the . . .\" he began, then stopped and paled beneath his freckles. He moved quickly forward as Keane set Jo in a chair. \"How bad?\"\n\n\"I don't know yet,\" Keane muttered. \"Get a towel and the first-aid kit.\"\n\nBuck had come in behind them and, already having secured the items, handed them to Keane. Then he moved to a cabinet and located a bottle of brandy.\n\n\"It's not too bad,\" Jo managed. Because her voice was tolerably steady, she screwed up her courage and looked down. Keane had fastened a rough bandage from the remains of her sleeve. Though the flow of blood had slowed, there were streaks of it down her arm, and too much spreading from the wound to be certain how extensive the cuts were. Nausea rocked in her stomach.\n\n\"How do you know?\" Keane demanded between his teeth as he began to clean the wound. He wrung out the towel in the basin Buck set beside him.\n\n\"It's not bleeding that badly.\" Jo swallowed the queasiness. As her mind began to clear, she frowned at the tone of Keane's voice. Feeling her stare, he glanced up. In his eyes was such fury, she pulled away.\n\n\"Be still,\" he ordered roughly and gave his attention back to her arm.\n\nThe cat had delivered only a glancing blow, but even so, there were four long slices in her upper arm. Jo set her jaw as pain ripped through her. Keane's brusqueness brought more hurt, and she fought to show no reaction to either. The aftermath of fear was bubbling through her. She longed to be held, to be soothed by the hands that tended to her wound.\n\n\"She's going to need stitches,\" Keane said without looking at her.\n\n\"And an antitoxin shot,\" Buck added, handing Jo a generous glass of brandy. \"Drink this, honey. It'll help settle you.\"\n\nThe gentleness in his voice nearly undid her. He laid his big hand against her cheek, and for a moment she pressed against it.\n\n\"Drink now,\" Buck ordered again. Obediently, Jo lifted the glass and swallowed. The room whirled, then snapped into focus. She made a small sound and pressed the glass to her forehead. \"Tell me what happened in there.\" Buck crouched down beside her as Keane began to apply a temporary bandage.\n\nJo took a moment to draw air in and out of her lungs. She lowered the glass and spoke steadily. \"Hamlet didn't respond, and Gerry repeated a command, but he stepped forward. Too close. I saw Hamlet's eyes, and I knew. I should have moved faster. I should have been watching him more carefully. It was a stupid mistake.\" She stared into the brandy as she berated herself.\n\n\"She stepped between the boy and the cat.\" Keane bit off the words as he completed the bandaging. Rising, he moved to the brandy and poured. Not once did he turn to look at Jo. Hurt, she stared at his back before looking back at Buck.\n\n\"How's Gerry?\"\n\nBuck urged the glass back to her lips. A faint tint of pink was creeping into her cheeks. \"Pete's with him. Got his head between his knees. He'll be fine.\"\n\nJo nodded. \"I guess I'll have to go to town and have this seen to.\" She handed the glass to Buck and wondered if she dare attempt to rise yet. With another deep breath, she glanced at Duffy. \"Make sure he's ready to go in when I get back.\"\n\nKeane turned from the window. \"Go in where?\" His face was set in hard lines.\n\nIn response, Jo's voice was chilled. \"In the cage.\" She turned her eyes to Buck. \"We should be able to have a short run-through before the evening show.\"\n\n\"No.\" Jo's head snapped up as Keane spoke. For a long moment they stared at each other with odd, unreasonable antagonism. \"You're not going back in there today.\" His voice held curt authority.\n\n\"Of course I am,\" Jo countered, managing to keep the combination of pain and anger from her words. \"And if Gerry wants to be a cat man, he's going in, too.\"\n\n\"Jo's right,\" Buck put in, trying to soothe what he sensed was an explosive situation. \"It's like falling off a horse. You can't wait too long before you get back up, or you won't ride again.\"\n\nKeane never took his eyes from Jo. He continued as if Buck hadn't spoken. \"I won't permit it.\"\n\n\"You can't stop me.\" Indignation forced her to her feet. The brisk movement caused her arm to protest, and her struggle against it showed momentarily in her eyes.\n\n\"Yes, I can.\" Keane took a long swallow of brandy. \"I own this circus.\"\n\nJo's fists tightened at his tone, at his careless use of his authority. Not once since he had knelt beside her in the cage had he given her any sign of comfort or reassurance. She had needed it from him. To masquerade its trembling, she kept her voice low. \"But you don't own me, Mr. Prescott. And if you'll check your papers and the legalities, you'll see you don't own the lions or my equipment. I bought them, and I maintain them out of my salary. My contract doesn't give you the right to tell me when I can or can't rehearse my cats.\"\n\nKeane's face was granite hard. \"Neither does it give you the right to set up in the Big Top without my permission.\"\n\n\"Then I'll set up someplace else,\" she tossed back. \"But I _will_ set up. That cat will be worked again today. I won't take the risk of losing months of training.\"\n\n\"But you will risk being killed,\" Keane shot back and slammed down his glass.\n\n\"What do you care?\" Jo shouted. All control deserted her. The cuts were deep on her emotions as well as her flesh. She had passed through a terror more acute than she had known since the night of her parents' death. More than anything else, she wanted to feel Keane's arms around her. She wanted to know the security she had felt when he had let her weep out her grief for Ari in his arms. \"I'm nothing to you!\" Her head shook quickly, tossing her hair. There was a bubble of hysteria in her voice, and Buck reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder.\n\n\"Jo,\" he warned in his soft, rumbling voice.\n\n\"No!\" She shook her head and spoke rapidly. \"He hasn't the right. You haven't the right to interfere with my life.\" She flared at Keane again with eyes vivid with emotion. \"I know what I have to do. I know what I _will_ do. Why should it matter to you? You aren't legally responsible if I get mauled. No one's going to sue you.\"\n\n\"Hold on, Jo.\" This time Buck spoke firmly. As he took her uninjured arm, he felt the tremors shooting through her. \"She's too upset to know what she's saying,\" he told Keane.\n\nThere was a mask over Keane's face which concealed all emotion. \"Oh, I think she knows what she's saying,\" he disagreed quietly. For a moment there was only the sound of Jo shuddering and the splash of brandy being poured into a glass. \"You do what you have to do, Jo,\" he said after drinking again. \"You're perfectly correct that I haven't any rights where you're concerned. Take her into town,\" he told Buck, then turned back to the window.\n\n\"Come on, Jo.\" Buck urged her to the door, slipping a supportive arm around her waist. Even as they stepped outside, Rose came running from the direction of the midway.\n\n\"Jo!\" Her face was white with concern. \"Jo, I just heard.\" She glanced at the bandage with wide, terrified eyes. \"How bad is it?\"\n\n\"Just scratches, really,\" Jo assured her. She added the best smile she could muster. \"Buck's going to take me into town for a couple of stitches.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\" She looked up at the tall man for reassurance. \"Buck?\"\n\n\"Several stitches,\" he corrected but patted Rose's hand. \"But it's not too bad.\"\n\n\"Do you want me to come with you?\" She fell into step beside them as Buck began to lead Jo again.\n\n\"No. Thank you, Rose.\" Jo smiled with more feeling. \"I'll be fine.\"\n\nBecause of the smile, Rose was able to relax. \"I thought when I heard . . . well, I imagined all sorts of terrible things. I'm glad you're not badly hurt.\" They had reached Buck's truck, and Rose leaned over to kiss Jo's cheek. \"We all love you so.\"\n\n\"I know.\" Squeezing her hand, Jo let Buck help her into the cab of his truck. As he maneuvered from the lot, Jo rested her head against the back of the seat and shut her eyes. Never could she remember feeling more spent, more battered.\n\n\"Hurt bad?\" Buck asked as they switched to an asphalt road.\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered simply, thinking of her heart as much as her arm.\n\n\"You'll feel better when you're patched up.\"\n\nJo kept her eyes shut, knowing some wounds never heal. Or if they did, they left scars that ached at unexpected times.\n\n\"You shouldn't have gone off on him that way, Jo.\" There was light censure in Buck's voice.\n\n\"He shouldn't have interfered,\" Jo retorted. \"It's none of his business. _I'm_ none of his business.\"\n\n\"Jo, it's not like you to be so hard.\"\n\n\"Hard?\" She opened her eyes and turned to Buck. \"What about him? Couldn't he have been kinder, shown even the barest trace of compassion? Did he have to speak to me as if I were a criminal?\"\n\n\"Jo, the man was terrified. You're only looking at this from one side.\" He scratched his beard and gave a gusty sigh. \"You can't know what it's like to be outside that cage, helpless when someone you care about is facing down death. I had to all but knock him unconscious to keep him out of there until we got it through his head that he'd just get you killed for sure. He was scared, Jo. We were all scared.\"\n\nJo shook her head, certain Buck exaggerated because of his affection for her. Keane's voice had been hard, his eyes angry. \"He doesn't care,\" she corrected quietly. \"Not like the rest of you. You didn't swear at me. You weren't cold.\"\n\n\"Jo, people have different ways\u2014\" Buck began, but she interrupted.\n\n\"I know he wouldn't want to see me hurt, Buck. He's not heartless or cruel.\" She sighed as all the force of anger and fear washed out of her body and left her empty. \"Please, I don't want to talk about him.\"\n\nBuck heard the weariness in her voice and patted her hand. \"Okay, honey, just relax. We'll have you all fixed up in no time.\"\n\nNot all fixed up, Jo thought. Far from all fixed up. __\n**Chapter Eleven**\n\nAs the weeks passed, Jo's arm lost its stiffness. She healed cleanly. The only traces were thin scars that promised to fade but not disappear. She found, however, that some spark had gone out of her life. Constantly, she fought against a vague dissatisfaction. Nothing\u2014not her work, not her friends, not her books\u2014brought about the contentment she had grown up with. She had become a woman, and her needs had shifted. Jo knew the root of her problem was Keane, but the knowledge was not a solution. He had left the circus again on the very night of her accident. Nearly four weeks later he had not returned.\n\nThree times Jo had sat down to write him, needing to assuage her guilt for the harsh things she had said to him. Three times she had torn up the paper in frustration. No matter how she rearranged the words, they were wrong. Instead, she clung to the hope that he would come back one last time. If, she felt, they could part as friends, without bitterness or hard words, she could accept the separation. Willing this to happen, she was able to return to her routine with some tranquility. She rehearsed, performed, joined in the daily duties of circus life. She waited. The caravan moved closer to Chicago.\n\n***\n\nJo stood in the steaming Big Top on a late August afternoon. Dressed in a leotard, she worked on ground exercises with the Beirot Brothers. It was this daily regimentation that had aided in keeping her arm limber. She could now move into a back walk-over without feeling any protest in her injured arm.\n\n\"I feel good,\" Jo told Raoul as they worked out. \"I feel really good.\" She did a quick series of pirouettes.\n\n\"You don't keep your shoulder in shape by dancing on your feet,\" Raoul challenged.\n\n\"My shoulder's fine,\" she tossed back, then proved her point by bending into a handstand. Slowly, she lowered her legs to a forty-five-degree angle, bringing one foot to rest on the knee of the opposite leg. \"It's perfect.\" She executed a forward roll and sprang to her feet. \"I'm strong as an ox,\" she claimed and did a quick back handspring followed by a back flip.\n\nShe landed at Keane's feet.\n\nThe cascade of emotions that raced through her reflected briefly in her eyes before she regained her balance. \"I didn't\u2014I didn't know you were back.\" Instantly, she regretted the inanity of the words but could find no others. The longing was raw in her to hurl herself into his arms. She wondered that he could not feel her need through the pores of her skin.\n\n\"I just got in.\" His eyes continued to search her face after his hands dropped to his sides. \"This is my mother,\" he added. \"Rachael Loring, Jovilette Wilder.\"\n\nAt his words, Jo's gaze moved from his face. She saw the woman beside him. If she had seen Rachael Loring in a crowd of two thousand, she would have known her for Keane's mother. The bone structure was the same, though hers was more elegant. Her brows were golden wings, flaring out at the end, as Keane's did. Her hair was smooth, brushed up and away from her face with no gray to mar its tawny perfection. But it was the eyes that sent a jolt through Jo. She had not thought to see them in anyone's face but Keane's. The woman was dressed simply in an unpretentiously tailored suit that bespoke taste and wealth. There was, however, none of the cool, distant polish that Jo had always attributed to the woman who had taken her son and left Frank. There was a charm to the smile that curved in greeting.\n\n\"Jovilette, such a lovely name. Keane's told me of you.\" She extended her hand, and Jo accepted, intending a quick, impersonal shake. Rachael Loring, however, laid her other hand atop their joined ones and added warmth. \"Keane tells me you were very close to Frank. Perhaps we could talk.\"\n\nThe affection in her voice confused Jo into a stumbling reply. \"I\u2014Yes. I\u2014if you'd like.\"\n\n\"I should like very much.\" She squeezed Jo's hand again before releasing it. \"Perhaps you have time to show me around?\" She smiled with the question, and Jo found it increasingly difficult to remain aloof. \"I'm sure there've been some changes since I was here last. You must have some business to attend to,\" she said, looking up at Keane. \"I'm sure Jovilette will take good care of me. Won't you, dear?\" Without waiting for either to respond, Rachael tucked her arm through Jo's and began to walk. \"I knew your parents,\" she said as Keane watched them move away. \"Not terribly well, I'm afraid. They came here the same year I left. But I recall they were both thrilling performers. Keane tells me you've followed your father's profession.\"\n\n\"Yes, I . . .\" She hesitated, feeling oddly at a disadvantage. \"I did,\" she finished lamely.\n\n\"You're so young.\" Rachael gave her a gentle smile. \"How terribly brave you must be.\"\n\n\"No . . . no, not really. It's my job.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\" Rachael laughed at some private memory. \"I've heard that before.\"\n\nThey were outside now, and she paused to look thoughtfully around her. \"I think perhaps I was wrong. It hasn't really changed, not in thirty years. It's a wonderful place, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Why did you leave?\" As soon as the words were spoken, Jo regretted them. \"I'm sorry,\" she said quickly. \"I shouldn't have asked.\"\n\n\"Of course you should.\" Rachael sighed and patted Jo's hand. \"It's only natural. Duffy's still here, Keane tells me.\" At the change in subject, Jo imagined her question had been evaded.\n\n\"Yes, I suppose he always will be.\"\n\n\"Could we have some coffee, or some tea, perhaps?\" Rachael smiled again. \"It's such a long drive from town. Is your trailer nearby?\"\n\n\"It's just over in the back yard.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Rachael laughed and began to walk again. \"The neighborhood that never changes over thousands of miles. Do you know the story of the dog and the bones?\" she asked. Though Jo knew it well, she said nothing. \"One version is that a roustabout gave his dog a bone every night after dinner. The dog would bury the bone under the trailer, then the next day try to dig it back up. Of course, it was fifty miles behind in an empty lot. He never figured it out.\" Quietly, she laughed to herself.\n\nFeeling awkward, Jo opened the door to her trailer. How could this woman be the one she had resented all of her life? How could this be the cold, heartless woman who had left Frank? Oddly, Rachael seemed totally at ease in the narrow confines of the trailer.\n\n\"How efficient these are.\" She looked around with interest and approval. \"You must barely realize you're on wheels.\" Casually, she picked up the volume of Thoreau which lay on Jo's counter. \"Keane told me you have an avid interest in literature. In language, too,\" she added, glancing up from the book. Her eyes were golden and direct like her son's. Jo was tossed back suddenly to the first morning of the season when she had looked down and found Keane's eyes on her.\n\nIt made her uncomfortable to learn Keane had discussed her with his mother. \"I have some tea,\" Jo told her as she moved toward the kitchen. \"It's a better gamble than my coffee.\"\n\n\"That's fine,\" Rachael said agreeably and followed her. \"I'll just sit here while you fix it.\" She settled herself with apparent ease at the tiny table across from the kitchen.\n\n\"I'm afraid I haven't anything else to offer you.\" Jo kept her back turned as she routed through her cupboard.\n\n\"Tea and conversation,\" Rachael answered in mild tones, \"will be fine.\"\n\nJo sighed and turned. \"I'm sorry.\" She shook her head. \"I'm being rude. I just don't know what to say to you, Mrs. Loring. I've resented you for as long as I can remember. Now you're here and not at all as I imagined.\" She managed to smile, albeit ruefully. \"You're not cold and hateful, and you look so much like . . .\" She stopped, horrified that she had nearly blurted out Keane's name. For a moment her eyes were utterly naked.\n\nRachael smoothed over the awkwardness. \"I don't wonder you resented me if you were as close to Frank as Keane tells me. Jovilette,\" she said softly, \"did Frank resent me, too?\"\n\nHelpless, Jo responded to the hint of sadness. \"No. Not while I knew him. I don't think Frank was capable of resentments.\"\n\n\"You understood him well, didn't you?\" Rachael watched as Jo poured boiling water into mugs. \"I understood him, too,\" she continued as Jo brought the mugs to the table. \"He was a dreamer, a marvelous free spirit.\" Absently, she stirred her tea.\n\nConsumed with curiosity, Jo sat across from her and waited for the story she sensed was coming.\n\n\"I was eighteen when I met him. I had come to the circus with a cousin. The Colossus was a bit smaller in those days,\" she added with a reminiscent smile, \"but it was all the same. Oh, the magic!\" She shook her head and sighed. \"We tumbled into love so fast, married against all my family's objections and went on the road. It was exciting. I learned the web routine and helped out in wardrobe.\"\n\nJo's eyes widened. \"You performed?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Rachael's cheeks tinted a bit with pride. \"I was quite good. Then I became pregnant. We were both like children waiting for Christmas. I wasn't quite nineteen when I had Keane, and I'd been with the circus for nearly a year. Things became difficult over the next season. I was young and a bit frightened of Keane. I panicked if he sneezed and was constantly dragging Frank into town to see doctors. How patient he was.\"\n\nRachael leaned forward and took Jo's hand. \"Can you understand how hard this life is for one not meant for it? Can you see that through the magic of it, the excitement and wonder, there are hardships and fears and impossible demands? I was little more than a child myself, with an infant to care for, without the endurance or vocation of a trouper, without the experience or confidence of a mother. I lived on nerves for an entire season.\" She let out a little rush of breath. \"When it was over, I went home to Chicago.\"\n\nFor the first time, Jo imagined the flight from Rachael's point of view. She could see a girl, younger than herself, in a strange, demanding world with a baby to care for. Over the years Jo had seen scores of people try the life she'd led and last only weeks. Still she shook her head in confusion.\n\n\"I think I understand how difficult it must have been for you. But if you and Frank loved each other, couldn't you have worked it out somehow?\"\n\n\"How?\" Rachael countered. \"Should I have taken a house somewhere and lived with him half a year? I would have hated him. Should he have given up his life here and settled down with me and Keane? It would have destroyed everything I loved about him.\" Rachael shook her head, giving Jo a soft smile. \"We did love each other, Jovilette, but not enough. Compromise isn't always possible, and neither of us were capable of adjusting to the needs of the other. I tried, and Frank would have tried had I asked him. But it was lost before it had really begun. We did the wisest thing under the circumstances.\"\n\nLooking into Jo's eyes, she saw youth and confidence. \"It seems cold and hard to you, but it was no use dragging out a painful situation. He gave me Keane and two years I've always treasured. I gave him his freedom without bitterness. Ten years after Frank, I found happiness again.\" She smiled softly with the memory. \"I loved Frank, and that love remains as young and sweet as the day I met him.\"\n\nJo swallowed. She searched for some way to apologize for a grudge held for a lifetime. \"He\u2014Frank kept a scrapbook on Keane. He followed the Chicago papers.\"\n\n\"Did he?\" Rachael beamed, then leaned back in her chair and lifted her mug. \"How like him. Was he happy, Jovilette? Did he have what he wanted?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Jo answered without hesitation. \"Did you?\"\n\nRachael's eyes came back to Jo's. For a moment the look was speculative, then it grew warm. \"What a good heart you have, generous and understanding. Yes, I had what I wanted. And you, Jovilette, what do you want?\"\n\nAt ease now, Jo shook her head and smiled. \"More than I can have.\"\n\n\"You're too smart for that,\" Rachael observed, studying her. \"I think you're a fighter, not a dreamer. When the time comes to make your choice, you won't settle for anything less than all.\" She smiled at Jo's intent look, then rose. \"Will you show me your lions? I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to seeing you perform.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\" Jo stood, then hesitated. She held out her hand. \"I'm glad you came.\"\n\nRachael accepted the gesture. \"So am I.\"\n\n***\n\nThroughout the rest of the day Jo looked for Keane without success. After meeting and talking with his mother, it had become even more imperative that she speak with him. Her conscience would have no rest until she made amends. By show time she had not yet found him.\n\nEach act seemed to run on and on as she fretted for the finish. He would be with his mother in the audience, and undoubtedly she would find him after the show. She strained with impatience as the acts dragged.\n\nAfter the finale she stood at the back door, unsure whether to wait or to go to his trailer. She was struck with both relief and alarm when she saw him approaching.\n\n\"Jovilette.\" Rachael spoke first, taking Jo's hands in hers. \"How marvelous you were, and how stunning. I see why Keane said you had an untamed beauty.\"\n\nSurprised, Jo glanced up at Keane but met impassive amber eyes. \"I'm glad you enjoyed it.\"\n\n\"Oh, I can't tell you how much. The day has brought me some very precious memories. Our talk this afternoon meant a great deal to me.\" To Jo's surprise, Rachael leaned over and kissed her. \"I hope to see you again. I'm going to say goodbye to Duffy before you drive me back, Keane,\" she continued. \"I'll meet you in the car. Goodbye, Jovilette.\"\n\n\"Goodbye, Mrs. Loring.\" Jo watched her go before she turned to Keane. \"She's a wonderful person. She makes me ashamed.\"\n\n\"There's no need for that.\" He tucked his hands into his pockets and watched her. \"We both had our reasons for resentments, and we were both wrong. How's your arm?\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Jo's fingers traveled to the wound automatically. \"It's fine. There's barely any scarring.\"\n\n\"Good.\" The word was short and followed by silence. For a moment Jo felt her courage fail her.\n\n\"Keane,\" she began, then forced herself to meet his eyes directly. \"I want to apologize for the horrible way I behaved after the accident.\"\n\n\"I told you once before,\" he said coolly, \"I don't care for apologies.\"\n\n\"Please.\" Jo swallowed her pride and touched his arm. \"I've been saving this one for a very long time. I didn't mean those things I said,\" she added quickly. \"I hope you'll forgive me.\" It wasn't the eloquent apology she had planned, but it was all she could manage. His expression never altered.\n\n\"There's nothing to forgive.\"\n\n\"Keane, please.\" Jo grabbed his arm again as he turned to go. \"Don't leave me feeling as if you don't forgive me. I know I said dreadful things. You have every right to be furious, but couldn't you\u2014can't we be friends again?\"\n\nSomething flickered over his face. Lifting his hand, he touched the back of it to her cheek. \"You have a habit of disconcerting me, Jovilette.\" He dropped his hand, then thrust it into his pocket. \"I've left something for you with Duffy. Be happy.\" He walked away from her while she dealt with the finality of his tone. He was walking out of her life. She watched him until he disappeared.\n\nJo had thought she would feel something, but there was nothing; no pain, no tears, no desperation. She had not known a human being could be so empty and still live.\n\n\"Jo.\" Duffy lumbered up to her, then held out a thick envelope. \"Keane left this for you.\" Then he moved past her, anxious to see that all straggling towners were nudged on their way.\n\nJo felt all emotions had been stripped away. Absently, she glanced at the envelope as she walked to her trailer. Without enthusiasm, she stepped inside, then tore it open. She remained standing as she pulled out the contents. It took her several moments to decipher the legal jargon. She read the group of papers through twice before sitting down.\n\nHe's given it to me, she thought. Still she could not comprehend the magnitude of it. _He's given me the circus._ __\n**Chapter Twelve**\n\nO'Hare Airport was an army of people and a cacophony of sound. Nearly losing herself in the chaos of it, Jo struggled through the masses and competed for a cab. At first she had merely gawked at the snow like a towner seeing his first sword swallower. Then, though she shivered inside the corduroy coat she had bought for the trip, she began to enjoy it. It was beautiful as it lay over the city, and it helped to turn her mind from the purpose of her journey. Never had she been north so late in the year. Chicago in November was a sensational sight.\n\nShe had learned, after the initial shock had worn off, that Keane had not only given her the circus but a responsibility as well. Almost immediately there had been contracts to negotiate. She had been tossed into a sea of paperwork, forced to rely heavily on Duffy's experience as she tried to regain her balance. As the season had come to a close, Jo had attempted a dozen times to call Chicago. Each time, she had hung up before Keane's number could be dialed. It would be, she had decided, more appropriate to see him in person. Her trip had been postponed a few weeks due to Jamie and Rose's wedding.\n\nIt was there, as she had stood as maid of honor, that Jo had realized what she must do. There was only one thing she truly wanted, and that was to be with Keane. Watching Rose's face as their vows had been exchanged, Jo had recalled her unflagging determination to win the man she loved.\n\n_And will I stay here?_ Jo had demanded of herself thousands of miles away from him. No. Her heart had begun to thud as she had mapped out a plan. She would go to Chicago to see him. She would not be turned away. He had wanted her once; she would make him want her again. She would not live out her life without at least some small portion of it being part of his. He didn't have to love her. It was enough that she loved him.\n\nAnd so, shivering against the unfamiliar cold, Jo scrambled into a cab and headed across town. She brushed her hair free of snow with chilled fingers, thinking how idiotic she had been to forget to buy a hat and gloves. What if he isn't home? she thought suddenly. What if he's gone to Europe or Japan or California? Panic made her giddy, and she pushed it down. He has to be home. It's Sunday, and he's sitting at home reading or going over a brief\u2014or entertaining a woman, she thought, appalled. I should stop and call. I should tell the driver to take me back to the airport. Closing her eyes, Jo fought to regain her calm. She took long, deep breaths and stared at the buildings and sidewalks. Gradually, she felt the tiny gurgle of hysteria dissipate.\n\n_I won't be afraid,_ she told herself and tried to believe it. I won't be afraid. But Jovilette, the woman who reclined on a living rug of lions, was very much afraid. What if he rejected her? I won't let him reject me, she told herself with a confident lift of her chin. _I'll seduce him._ She pressed her fingers to her temples. _I wouldn't know how to begin._ I've got to tell the driver to turn around.\n\nBut before she could form the words, the cab pulled up to a curb. With the precision of a robot, Jo paid the fare, overtipping in her agitation, and climbed out.\n\nLong after the cab had pulled away, she stood staring up at the massive glass-girdled building. Snow waltzed around her, sprinkling her hair and shoulders. A jostle from a rushing pedestrian broke the spell. She picked up her suitcases and hurried through the front door of the apartment buildings.\n\nThe lobby was enormous, with smoked glass walls and a deep shag carpet. Not knowing she should give her name at the desk, Jo wandered toward the elevators, innocently avoiding detection by merging with a group of tenants. Once inside the car, Jo pushed the button for the penthouse with a nerveless forefinger. The chatter of those in the elevator with her registered only as a distant humming. She never noticed when the car stopped for their departure.\n\nWhen it stopped a second time and the doors slid open, she stared at the empty space for ten full seconds. Only as the automatic doors began to close did she snap out of her daze. Pushing them open again, she stepped through and into the hall. Her legs were wobbly, but she forced them to move forward in the direction of the penthouse. Panic sped up and down her spine until she set down her bags and leaned her brow against Keane's door. She urged air in and out of her lungs. She remembered that Rachael Loring had called her a fighter. Jo swallowed, lifted her chin and knocked. The wait was mercifully brief before Keane opened the door. She saw surprise light his eyes as he stared at her.\n\nHer hair was dusted with snow as it lay over the shoulders of her coat. Her face glowed with the cold, and her eyes were bright, nearly feverish with her struggle for calm. Only once did her mouth tremble before she spoke.\n\n\"Hello, Keane.\"\n\nHe only stared, his eyes running over her in disbelief. He was leaner, she thought as she studied his face. As she filled herself with the sight of him, she saw he wore a sweatshirt and jeans. His feet were bare. He hadn't shaved, and her hand itched to test the roughness of his beard.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" Jo felt a resurgence of panic. His tone was harsh, and he had not answered her smile. She strained for poise.\n\n\"May I come in?\" she asked, her smile cracking.\n\n\"What?\" He seemed distracted by the question. His brows lowered into a frown.\n\n\"May I come in?\" she repeated, barely defeating the urge to turn tail and run.\n\n\"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry.\" Running a hand through his hair, Keane stepped back and gestured her inside.\n\nInstantly, Jo's shoes sank into the luxurious pile of the buffcolored carpet. For a moment she allowed herself to gaze around the room, using the time for the additional purpose of regaining her composure. It was an open, sweeping room with sharp, contrasting colors. There was a deep brown sectional sofa with a chrome and glass coffee table. There were high-backed chairs in soft creams and vivid slashes of blue in chunky floor pillows. There were paintings, one she thought she recognized as a Picasso, and a sculpture she was certain was a Rodin.\n\nOn the far right of the room there was an elevation of two steps. Just beyond was a huge expanse of glass that featured a spreading view of Chicago. Jo moved toward it with undisguised curiosity. Now, inexplicably, fear had lessened. She found that once she had stepped over the threshold she had committed herself. She was no longer afraid.\n\n\"It's wonderful,\" she said, turning back to him. \"How marvelous to have a whole city at your feet every day. You must feel like a king.\"\n\n\"I've never thought of it that way.\" With half the room between them, he studied her. She looked small and fragile with the bustling city at her back.\n\n\"I would,\" she said, and now her smile came easily. \"I'd stand at the window and feel regal and pompous.\"\n\nAt last she saw his lips soften and curve. \"Jovilette,\" he said quietly. \"What are you doing in my world?\"\n\n\"I needed to talk to you,\" she answered simply. \"I had to come here to do it.\"\n\nHe moved to her then, but slowly, with his eyes on hers. \"It must be important.\"\n\n\"I thought so.\"\n\nHis brow lifted, then he shrugged. \"Well, then, we'll talk. But first, let's have your coat.\"\n\nJo's cold fingers fumbled with the buttons and caused Keane to frown again. \"Good heavens, you're frozen.\" He captured her hands between his and swore. \"Where are your gloves?\" he demanded like an irate parent. \"It must be all of twelve degrees outside.\"\n\n\"I forgot to buy any,\" Jo told him as she dealt with the heavenly feeling of his hands restoring warmth to hers.\n\n\"Idiot. Don't you know better than to come to Chicago in November without gloves?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jo responded to his anger with a cheerful smile. \"I've never been to Chicago in November before. It's wonderful.\"\n\nHis eyes lifted from her hands to her face. He watched her for a long moment, then she heard him sigh. \"I'd nearly convinced myself I could be cured.\"\n\nJo's eyes clouded with concern. \"Have you been ill?\"\n\nKeane laughed with a shake of his head, then he pushed away the question and became brisk again. \"Here, let's have your coat. I'll get you some coffee.\"\n\n\"You needn't bother,\" she began as he undid the buttons on the coat himself and drew it from her shoulders.\n\n\"I'd feel better if I was certain your circulation was restored.\" He paused and looked down at her as he laid her coat over his arm. She wore a green angora sweater with pearl buttons and a gray skirt in thin wool. The soft fabric draped softly at her breasts and over her hips and thighs. Her shoes were dainty and impractical sling-back heels.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\"\n\n\"I've never seen you wear anything but a costume or jeans.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Jo laughed and combed her fingers through her damp hair. \"I expect I look different.\"\n\n\"Yes, you do.\" His voice was low, and there was a frown in his eyes. \"Right now you look as if you've come from college for the holidays.\" He touched the ends of her hair, then turned away. \"Sit down. I'll get the coffee.\"\n\nA bit puzzled by his mercurial moods, Jo wandered about the room, finally ignoring a chair to kneel beside one of the pillows near the picture window. Though the carpet swallowed Keane's footsteps, she sensed his return.\n\n\"How wonderful to have a real winter, if just for the snow.\" She turned a radiant face his way. \"I've always wondered what Christmas is like with snow and icicles.\" Images of snowflakes danced in her eyes. Seeing he carried two mugs of coffee, she rose and took one. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Are you warm enough?\" he asked after a moment.\n\nJo nodded and sat in one of the two chairs opposite the sofa. The novelty of the city made her mission seem like a grand adventure. Keane sat beside her, and for a moment they drank in companionable silence.\n\n\"What did you want to talk to me about, Jo?\"\n\nJo swallowed, ignoring the faint trembling in her chest. \"A couple of things. The circus, for one.\" She shifted in her chair until she faced him. \"I didn't write because I felt it too important. I didn't phone for the same reason. Keane . . .\" All her carefully thought-out speeches deserted her. \"You can't just give something like that away. I can't take it from you.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" He shrugged and sipped his coffee. \"We both know it's always been yours. A piece of paper doesn't change that one way or the other.\"\n\n\"Keane, Frank left it to you.\"\n\n\"And I gave it to you.\"\n\nJo made a small sound of frustration. \"Perhaps if I could pay you for it . . .\"\n\n\"Someone asked me once what was the value of a dream or the price of a human spirit.\" Jo shifted her eyes to his helplessly. \"I didn't have an answer then. Do you have one now?\"\n\nShe sighed and shook her head. \"I don't know what to say to you. 'Thank you' is far from adequate.\"\n\n\"It's not necessary, either,\" Keane told her. \"I simply gave back what was yours in any case. What else was there, Jo? You said there were a couple of things.\"\n\nThis was it, Jo's brain told her. Carefully, she set down the coffee and rose. Waiting for her stomach to settle, she walked a few feet out into the room, then turned. She allowed herself a deep breath before she met Keane's eyes.\n\n\"I want to be your mistress,\" she said with absolute calm.\n\n_\"What?\"_ Both Keane's face and voice registered utter shock.\n\nJo swallowed and repeated. \"I want to be your mistress. That's still the right term, isn't it, or is it antiquated? Is _lover_ right? I've never done this before.\"\n\nSlowly, Keane set his mug beside hers and rose. He did not move toward her but watched her with probing eyes. \"Jo, you don't know what you're saying.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I do,\" she cut him off and nodded. \"I might not have the terminology exactly right, but I do know what I mean, and I'm sure you do, too. I want to be with you,\" she continued and took a step toward him. \"I want you to make love to me. I want to live with you if you'll let me, or at least close by.\"\n\n\"Jo, you're not talking sensibly.\" Sharply, Keane broke into her speech. Turning away, he thrust his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists. \"You don't know what you're asking.\"\n\n\"Don't I appeal to you anymore?\"\n\nKeane whirled, infuriated with the trace of curiosity in her voice. \"How can you ask me that?\" he demanded. \"Of course you appeal to me! I'm not dead or in the throes of senility!\"\n\nShe moved closer to him. \"Then if I want you, and you want me, why can't we be lovers?\"\n\nKeane swore violently and grabbed her shoulders. \"Do you think I could have you for a winter and then blithely let you go? Do you think I could untangle myself at the start of the season and watch you stroll out of my life? Haven't you the sense to see what you do to me?\" He shook her hard with the question, stealing any breath she might have used to answer him.\n\n\"You make me crazy!\" Abruptly, he dragged her against him. His mouth bruised hers, his fingers dug into her flesh. Jo's head spun with confusion and pain and ecstasy. It seemed centuries since she had tasted his mouth on hers. She heard him groan as he tore himself away. He turned, leaving her to find her own balance as the room swayed. \"What do I have to do to be rid of you?\" His words came in furious undertones.\n\nJo blew out a breath. \"I don't think kissing me like that is a very good start.\"\n\n\"I'm aware of that,\" he murmured. She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders. \"I've been trying to avoid doing it since I opened the door.\"\n\nQuietly, Jo walked to him and put a hand on his arm. \"You're tense,\" she discovered and automatically sought to soothe the muscles. \"I'm sorry if I'm going about this the wrong way. I thought telling you outright would be better than trying to seduce you. I don't think I'd be very good at that.\"\n\nKeane made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan. \"Jovilette,\" he murmured before he turned and gathered her into his arms. \"How do I resist you? How many times must I pull away before I'm free of you? Even the thought of you drives me mad.\"\n\n\"Keane.\" She sighed and shut her eyes. \"I've wanted you to hold me for so long. I want to belong to you, even for just a little while.\"\n\n\"No.\" He pulled away, then forced her chin up with his thumb and forefinger. \"Don't you see that once would be too much and a lifetime wouldn't be enough? I love you too much to let you go and enough to know I have to.\" Shock robbed her of speech. She only stared as he continued. \"It was different when I didn't know, when I thought I was\u2014how did you put it? 'Dazzled.'\" He smiled briefly at the word. \"I was certain if I could make love to you, I could get you out of my system. Then, the night Ari died, I held you while you slept. I realized I was in love with you, had been in love with you right from the beginning.\"\n\n\"But you . . .\" Jo shook her head as if to clear it. \"You never told me, and you seemed so cold, so distant.\"\n\n\"I couldn't touch you without wanting more.\" He pulled her close again and for a moment buried his face in her hair. \"But I couldn't stay away. I knew if I wanted to have you, to really have you, one of us had to give up what we did, what we were. I wondered if I could give up the law; it was really all I ever wanted to do. I discovered I wanted you more.\"\n\n\"Oh, Keane.\" She shook her head, but he put her from him suddenly.\n\n\"Then I found out that wouldn't work, either.\" Keane turned, paced to the window and stared out. The snow was falling heavily. \"Every time you walked into that cage, I walked into hell. I thought perhaps I'd get used to it, but it only got worse. I tried leaving, coming back here, but I could never shake you loose. I kept coming back. The day you were hurt . . .\" Keane paused. Jo heard him draw in his breath, and when he continued, his voice was deeper. \"I watched you step in front of that boy and take the blow. I can't tell you what I felt at that moment; there aren't words for it. All I could think of was getting to you. I wonder if Pete ever told you that I decked him before Buck got to me. He took it very well, considering. Then I had to\u2014to just stand there and watch while that cat stalked you. I've never known that kind of fear before. The kind that empties you out, body and soul.\"\n\nHe lapsed into silence. \"Then it was over,\" he continued, \"and I got to you. You were so white, and you were bleeding in my arms.\" He muttered an oath, then was silent again. He shook his head. \"I wanted to burn the place down, get you away, strangle the cats with my bare hands. Anything. I wanted to hold you, but I couldn't get past the fear and the unreasonable anger at having been helpless. Before my hands stopped shaking, you were making plans to go back into that damnable cage. I wanted to kill you myself then and be done with it.\"\n\nSlowly, Keane turned and walked back to her. \"I saw it happen again every time I closed my eyes for weeks afterward. I can show you exactly where the scars are.\" He lifted a finger and traced four lines on her upper arm precisely where the claws had ripped her skin. He dropped his hand and shook his head. \"I can't watch you go in the cage, Jo.\" He lifted his hand again and let it linger over her hair. \"If I let you stay with me now, I wouldn't be able to let you go back to your own life. And I can't ask you to give it up.\"\n\n\"I wish you would.\" Solemn-eyed, Jo watched him. \"I very much wish you would.\"\n\n\"Jo.\" Shaking his head, he turned away. \"I know what it means to you.\"\n\n\"No more than the law means to you, I imagine,\" she said briskly. \"But you said you were willing to give that up.\"\n\n\"Yes, but . . .\"\n\n\"Oh, very well.\" She pushed back her hair. \"If you won't ask me, I'll have to ask you. Will you marry me?\"\n\nKeane turned back, giving her his lowered brow frown. \"Jo, you can't . . .\"\n\n\"Of course I can. This is the twentieth century. If I want to ask you to marry me, then I will. I did,\" she pointed out.\n\n\"Jo, I don't . . .\"\n\n\"Yes or no, please, counselor. This isn't an easy question.\" She stepped forward until they stood toe to toe. \"I'm in love with you, and I want to marry you and have several babies. Is that agreeable?\"\n\nKeane's mouth opened and closed. He gave her an odd smile and lifted his hands to her shoulders. \"This is rather sudden.\"\n\nJo felt a wild surge of joy. \"Perhaps it is,\" she admitted. \"I'll give you a minute to think about it. But I might as well tell you, I won't take no for an answer.\"\n\nKeane's fingers traced the curve of her neck. \"It seems I have little choice.\"\n\n\"None at all,\" she corrected. Boldly, she locked her arms around him and pulled his mouth down to hers. The kiss was instantly urgent, instantly searching. Joined, they lowered to the rug and clung. For a long, long moment, their lips were united in a language too complex for words. Then, as if to reassure himself she was real, Keane searched the familiar curves of her body, tasted the longed-for flavor of her skin.\n\n\"Why did I think I could live without you?\" he whispered. His mouth came desperately back to hers. \"Be sure, Jo, be sure.\" Roughened with emotion, his voice was low while the words were spoken against her lips. \"I'll never be able to let you go. I'm asking you for everything.\"\n\n\"No. No, it's not like that. Hold me tighter. Kiss me again,\" she demanded as his lips roamed her face. \"Kiss me.\" She wondered if the sound of pleasure she heard was his or her own. She had not known a kiss could be so intimate, so terrifyingly exciting. No, she thought as she soared with the knowledge that he loved her. He wasn't asking everything, he was giving it.\n\n\"I'm leaving something behind,\" she told him when their lips parted, \"and replacing it with something infinitely more important.\" She buried her face in the curve of his neck. \"When you realize how much I love you, you'll understand.\"\n\nKeane drew away and stared down at her. At last he spoke, but it was only her name. It was a soft sigh of a sound. She smiled at it and lifted a hand to his cheek. \"If there's a way to compromise . . .\"\n\n\"No.\" She shook her head, remembering his mother's words. \"Sometimes there can't be a compromise. We love each other enough not to need one. Please, don't think I'm making a sacrifice; I'm not.\" She smiled a little and rubbed her palm experimentally over the stubble of his neglected beard. \"I don't regret one minute of my life in the circus, and I don't regret changing it. You've given me the circus, so I'll always be a part of it.\" Her smile faded, and her eyes grew serious. \"Will you belong to me, Keane?\"\n\nHe took her hand from his cheek and pressed it to his lips. \"I already do. I love you, Jovilette. I'll spend a lifetime loving you.\"\n\n\"That's not long enough,\" she said as their lips met again. \"I want more. I want forever.\"\n\nWith slow, building passion, his hands moved over her. Taking his time, he loosened the buttons on her sweater. \"So beautiful,\" he murmured as his lips trailed down her throat and found the gentle swell. Jo's breath caught at the new intimacy. \"You're trembling. I love knowing I can make your skin tremble under my hands.\" His lips roamed back to hers before he cradled her in his arms. \"I've wanted to be with you, to hold you, just hold you, for so long. I can't remember not wanting it.\"\n\nWith a sigh washed with contentment, Jo snuggled against him. \"Keane,\" she murmured.\n\n_\"Hmm?\"_\n\n\"You never answered me.\"\n\n\"About what?\" He kissed her closed lids, then tangled his fingers in her hair.\n\nJo opened her eyes. Her brows arched over them. \"Are you going to marry me or not?\"\n\nKeane laughed, rolled her onto her back and planted a long, lingering kiss on her mouth. \"Is tomorrow soon enough?\"\nKeep reading for a special excerpt from the newest novel by Nora Roberts\n\nWHISKEY BEACH\n\nAvailable now in hardcover from G.P. Putnam's Sons\nThrough the chilly curtain of sleet, in the intermittent wash of the great light on the jutting cliff to the south, the massive silhouette of Bluff House loomed over Whiskey Beach. It faced the cold, turbulent Atlantic like a challenge.\n\nI will last as long as you.\n\nStanding three sturdy and indulgent stories above the rough and rugged coast, it watched the roll and slap of waves through the dark eyes of windows as it had\u2014in one incarnation or another\u2014for more than three centuries.\n\nThe little stone cottage now housing tools and garden supplies spoke to its humble beginnings, to those who'd braved the fierce and fickle Atlantic to forge a life on the stony ground of a new world. Dwarfing those beginnings, the spread and rise of golden sand walls and curving gables, the generous terraces of weathered local stone sang to its heyday.\n\nIt survived storm, neglect, careless indulgence, dubious taste, the booms and the busts, scandal and righteousness.\n\nWithin its walls, generations of Landons had lived and died, celebrated and mourned, schemed, thrived, triumphed and languished.\n\nIt had shone as bright as the great light that swept the water off Massachusetts' rocky and glorious north shore. And it had huddled, shuttered in the dark.\n\nIt had stood long, so long, now it simply was Bluff House, reigning above the sea, the sand, the village of Whiskey Beach.\n\nFor Eli Landon it was the only place left to go. Not a refuge as much as an escape from everything his life had become over the past eleven horrible months.\n\nHe barely recognized himself.\n\nThe two-and-a-half-hour drive up from Boston over slick roads left him exhausted. But then, he admitted, fatigue cozied up to him like a lover most days. So he sat outside the house, in the dark, sleet splatting off his windshield, his roof, while he debated the choices of gathering enough energy to go inside or just staying put, maybe sliding into sleep in the car.\n\nStupid, he thought. Of course he wouldn't just sit there and sleep in the car when the house, with perfectly good beds to choose from, stood only a few feet away.\n\nBut neither could he drum up the enthusiasm for hauling his suitcases out of the trunk. Instead he grabbed the two small bags on the seat beside him, ones holding his laptop and a few essentials.\n\nSleet slapped at him when he climbed out of the car, but the cold, that whistling Atlantic wind, cut through the outer layers of lethargy. Waves boomed against the rock, slapped against the sand, combining into a constant hissing roar. Eli dragged the house keys out of his jacket pocket, stepped onto the shelter of the wide stone portico to the massive double entrance doors hewn more than a century before from teak imported from Burma.\n\nTwo years, he thought\u2014closer to three\u2014since he'd been here. Too busy with his life, with work, with the disaster of his marriage to drive up for a weekend, a short vacation, a holiday visit with his grandmother.\n\nHe'd spent time with her, of course, the indomitable Hester Hawkin Landon, whenever she'd come to Boston. He'd called her regularly, e-mailed, Facebooked and Skyped. Hester might have been cruising toward eighty but she'd always embraced technology and innovation with curiosity and enthusiasm.\n\nHe'd taken her to dinner, to drinks, remembered flowers and cards, gifts, gathered with her and his family for Christmas, important birthdays.\n\nAnd that, he thought as he unlocked the door, was all just rationalization for not taking the time, making the time, to come to Whiskey Beach, to the place she loved most, and giving her real time, real attention.\n\nHe found the right key, unlocked the door. Stepping inside, he flicked on the lights.\n\nShe'd changed some things, he noted, but Gran embraced change even as she managed to embrace traditions\u2014that suited her.\n\nSome new art\u2014seascapes, gardenscapes\u2014splashing soft color against rich brown walls. He dumped his bags just inside the door, took a moment to just look around the glossy spill of the entrance hall.\n\nHe scanned the stairs\u2014the grinning gargoyle newel posts some whimsical Landon had commissioned\u2014and up where they curved gracefully right and left for the north and south wings.\n\nPlenty of bedrooms, he thought. He just had to climb the stairs and pick one.\n\nBut not yet.\n\nInstead he walked through to what they called the main parlor with its high, arching windows facing the front garden\u2014or what would be once winter opened its claws.\n\nHis grandmother hadn't been home for over two months, but he didn't see a speck of dust. Logs lay in the hearth framed by the gleam of lapis and ready to light. Fresh flowers stood on the Hepplewhite table she prized. Pillows sat fluffed and welcoming on the three sofas ranged around the room, and the wide planked chestnut floor gleamed like a mirror.\n\nShe'd had someone come in, he decided, then rubbed his forehead where a headache threatened to bloom.\n\nShe'd told him, hadn't she? Told him she had someone looking out for the place. A neighbor, someone who did the heavy cleaning for her. He hadn't forgotten she'd told him, he'd just lost the information for a moment in the fog that too often crawled in to blur his mind.\n\nNow looking out for Bluff House was his job. To tend to it, to, as his grandmother had asked, keep life in it. And maybe, she'd said, it would pump some life back into him.\n\nHe picked up his bags, looked at the stairs. Then just stood.\n\nShe'd been found there, there at the base of the steps. By a neighbor\u2014the same neighbor? Wasn't it the same neighbor who cleaned for her? Someone, thank God, had come by to check on her, and found her lying there unconscious, bruised, bleeding, with a shattered elbow, a broken hip, cracked ribs, a concussion.\n\nShe might've died, he thought. The doctors expressed amazement that she'd stubbornly refused to. None of the family routinely checked on her daily, no one thought to call, and no one, including himself, would have worried if she hadn't answered for a day or two.\n\nHester Landon, independent, invincible, indestructible.\n\nWho might have died after a terrible fall, if not for a neighbor\u2014 and her own indefatigable will.\n\nNow she reigned in a suite of rooms in his parents' home while she recovered from her injuries. There she'd stay until deemed strong enough to come back to Bluff House\u2014or if his parents had their way, there she would stay, period.\n\nHe wanted to think of her back here, in the house she loved, sitting out on the terrace with her evening martini, looking out at the ocean. Or puttering in her garden, maybe setting up her easel to paint.\n\nHe wanted to think of her vital and tough, not helpless and broken on the floor while he'd been pouring a second cup of morning coffee.\n\nSo he'd do his best until she came home. He'd keep life in her house, such as his was.\n\nEli picked up his bags, started upstairs. He'd take the room he'd always used on visits\u2014or had before those visits stretched out fewer and farther between. Lindsay had hated Whiskey Beach, Bluff House, and had made trips there into a cold war with his grandmother rigidly polite on one side, his wife deliberately snide on the other. And he'd been squeezed in the middle.\n\nSo he'd taken the easy way, he thought now. He could be sorry about that, sorry he'd stopped coming, sorry he'd made excuses and had limited his time with his grandmother to her trips to Boston. But he couldn't turn back the clock.\n\nHe stepped into the bedroom. Flowers here, too, he noted, and the same soft green walls, two of his grandmother's watercolors he'd always particularly liked.\n\nHe put his bags on the bench at the foot of the sleigh bed, stripped off his coat.\n\nHere, things had stayed the same. The little desk under the window, the wide atrium doors leading to the terrace, the wingback chair and the little footstool with the cover his grandmother's mother had needle-pointed long ago.\n\nIt occurred to him that for the first time in a very long time he felt\u2014almost\u2014at home. Opening his bag, he dug out his toiletry kit, then found fresh towels, fancy seashell soaps. The scent of lemons in the bath.\n\nHe stripped down without glancing at the mirror. He'd lost weight, too much weight, over the last year. He didn't need to remind himself of it. He turned on the shower, stepped in, hoping to burn some of the fatigue away. He knew from experience if he went to bed exhausted and stressed, he'd sleep fitfully, wake with that dragging hangover.\n\nWhen he stepped out he grabbed one of the towels from the stack, again caught the whiff of lemon as he scrubbed it over his hair. Damp, it curled past the nape of his neck, a mop of dark blond longer than it had been since his early twenties. But then he hadn't seen his usual barber, Enrique, for nearly a year. He hardly had the need for a hundred and fifty-dollar haircut, or the collection of Italian suits and shoes packed in storage.\n\nHe was no longer a sharply dressed criminal attorney with a corner office and the fast track to full partner. That man had died along with Lindsay. He just hadn't known it.\n\nHe tossed back the duvet, as fluffy and white as the towel, slid in, switched off the light.\n\nIn the dark he could hear the sea, a steady growl, and the sizzle of sleet against the windows. He closed his eyes, wished as he did every night for a few hours of oblivion.\n\nA few was all he got.\n\n***\n\nGod damn, he was pissed. Nobody, absolutely nobody, he thought as he drove through the hard, freezing rain, could trip his switch like Lindsay.\n\nThe bitch.\n\nHer mind, and apparently her morals, worked like no one else's he knew. She'd managed to convince herself, and he was sure any number of her friends, her mother, her sister, and Christ knew, that it was _his_ fault their marriage had deteriorated, _his_ they'd gone from couples counseling to a trial separation to a legal battle in preparation for divorce.\n\nAnd _his_ fucking fault she'd been cheating on him for well over eight months\u2014five more than the \"trial\" separation she'd campaigned for. And somehow it was on him that he'd found out about her lying, cheating, conniving ass before signing on the dotted line so she could walk away with a fat settlement.\n\nSo they were both pissed, he decided\u2014he that he'd been an idiot, and she that he'd finally clued in.\n\nNo doubt it would be his fault they'd had a bitter, vicious and public fight about her adultery that afternoon in the art gallery where she worked part-time. Bad timing, bad form on his part, he admitted, but right now? He didn't give a shit.\n\nShe wanted to blame him because she'd gotten sloppy, so sloppy his own sister had seen his estranged wife and another man all over each other in a hotel lobby in Cambridge\u2014before they'd gotten on the elevator together.\n\nMaybe Tricia had waited a couple days to tell him, but he couldn't blame her. It was a lot to tell. And he'd taken another couple to absorb it before he'd manned up, hired an investigator.\n\nEight months, he thought again. She'd been sleeping with someone else in hotel beds, in B-and-Bs, God knew where else\u2014though she'd been too smart to use the house. What would the neighbors think?\n\nMaybe he shouldn't have gone, armed with the investigator's report and his own fury, to the gallery to confront her. Maybe the two of them should've had more sense than to start a shouting match that carried through the place and out to the street.\n\nBut they'd both have to weather the embarrassment.\n\nOne thing he knew: the settlement wouldn't be so sweet for her now. All concept of clean and fair, and no need to stick hard to the prenup? Done. She'd find that out when she got home from her charity auction and found he'd taken the painting he bought in Florence, the Deco diamond that had been his great-grandmother's and had come to him, and the silver coffee set he had no interest in but was another family heirloom he'd be _damned_ if she'd throw into the community property pot.\n\nShe was going to find herself batting in a new ball game.\n\nMaybe it was petty, maybe it was stupid\u2014or maybe it was right and just. He couldn't see through the anger and betrayal, and simply didn't care. Riding on that anger, he pulled up in the driveway of the house in Boston's Back Bay. A house he'd believed would serve as a solid foundation for a marriage that had begun to show some cracks. One he'd hoped would one day house children, and one that, for a short time, had plastered over those cracks as he and Lindsay had outfitted it, chosen furnishings, debated, argued, agreed\u2014all of which he considered normal\u2014over little details.\n\nNow they'd have to sell it, and both likely walk away with half of little to nothing. And instead of renting a condo for what he'd hoped would be the short term, he'd end up buying one.\n\nFor himself, he thought as he climbed out of the car and into the rain. No debates, arguments or agreements necessary.\n\nAnd, he realized as he jogged to the front door, that came as a kind of relief. No more holding time, no more maybes, no more pretense his marriage could or should be saved.\n\nMaybe in her lying, deceitful, cheating way, she'd done him a favor.\n\nHe could walk away now without guilt or regret.\n\nBut he'd damn well walk away with what was his.\n\nHe unlocked the door, stepped into the wide, gracious foyer. Turning to the alarm pad, he keyed in the code. If she'd changed it, he had his ID, listing his name and this address. He'd already worked out how to handle any police or security questions.\n\nHe'd simply say his wife had changed the code\u2014true enough\u2014and he'd forgotten it.\n\nBut she hadn't. The fact that she hadn't was both relief and insult.\n\nShe thought she knew him so well, was so sure he'd never enter the house that was half his without her permission. He'd agreed to move out, to give them both some space, so he'd never intrude, never push too hard.\n\nShe assumed he'd be fucking civilized.\n\nShe was soon to discover she didn't know him at all.\n\nHe stood a moment, absorbing the quiet of the house, the _feel_ of it. All those neutral tones serving as a backdrop of splashes and flashes of color, the mix of old, new, cleverly quirky adding style.\n\nShe was good at it, he could admit that. She knew how to present herself, her home, knew how to arrange successful parties. There had been some good times here, spikes of happiness, stretches of contentment, moments of easy compatibility, some good sex, some lazy Sunday mornings.\n\nHow did it all go so wrong?\n\n\"Screw it,\" he muttered.\n\nGet in, get out, he told himself. Being in the house just depressed him. He went upstairs, directly to the sitting room off the master bedroom\u2014noted she had an overnight bag on the luggage rack, half packed.\n\nShe could go wherever the hell she wanted to go, he thought, with or without her lover.\n\nEli focused in on what he'd come for. Inside the closet, he keyed in the combination for the safe. He ignored the stack of cash, the documents, the jewelry cases holding pieces he'd given her over the years, or she'd bought for herself.\n\nJust the ring, he told himself. The Landon ring. He checked the box, watched it wink and flash in the light, then shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Once the safe was secured again and he started back down, it occurred to him he should've brought bubble wrap or some protection for the painting.\n\nHe'd grab some towels, he decided, something to shield it from the rain. He took a couple of bath sheets from the linen closet, kept going.\n\nIn and out, he told himself again. He hadn't known how much he wanted out of that house, away from the memories\u2014good and bad.\n\nIn the living room he took the painting off the wall. He'd bought it on their honeymoon because Lindsay had been so taken with it, with the sun-washed colors, the charm and simplicity of a field of sunflowers backed by olive groves.\n\nThey'd bought other art since, he thought as he wrapped the towels around it. Paintings, sculptures, pottery certainly of greater value. They could all go in the communal pile, all be part of the mechanism of negotiation. But not this.\n\nHe laid the padded painting on the sofa, moved through the living area with the storm slashing overhead. He wondered if she was driving in it, on her way home to finish packing for the overnight trip with lover.\n\n\"Enjoy it while it lasts,\" he murmured. Because first thing in the morning, he was calling his divorce attorney and letting him off the leash.\n\nFrom now on, he intended to go for the throat.\n\nHe turned into the room they'd fashioned into a library and, as he started to hit the light switch, saw her in a shuddering burst of icy lightning.\n\nFrom that moment to the answering bellow of thunder, his mind went blank.\n\n\"Lindsay?\"\n\nHe slapped at the switch as he lurched forward. Inside him waged a war between what he saw and what he could accept.\n\nShe lay on her side in front of the hearth. Blood, so much blood on the white marble, the dark floor.\n\nHer eyes, that rich chocolate that had so captivated him once, were filmed glass.\n\n\"Lindsay.\"\n\nHe dropped down beside her, took the hand stretched out on the floor as if reaching. And found her cold.\n\n***\n\nIn Bluff House, Eli woke, dragging himself out of the blood and shock of the recurring dream and into sunlight.\n\nFor a moment he just sat as he'd reared up, disoriented, hazy. He stared around the room, remembering as his thumping heart leveled again.\n\nBluff House. He'd come to Bluff House.\n\nLindsay had been dead nearly a year. The house in the Back Bay was finally on the market. The nightmare was behind him. Even if he still felt its breath on the back of his neck.\n\nHe shoved at his hair, wished he could delude himself so he could just go back to sleep, but he knew if he closed his eyes again, he'd be right back in the little library, right back beside the body of his murdered wife.\n\nAnd yet he couldn't think of a single good reason to get out of bed.\n\nHe thought he heard music\u2014dim, distant. What the hell was that music?\n\nHe'd gotten so used to noises\u2014voices, music, TV mumbling\u2014 during the last few months in his parents' house he hadn't registered there shouldn't be music, or anything but the sound of the sea or the wind.\n\nHad he turned on a radio, a television, something, and forgotten? It wouldn't be the first time since his long downward spiral.\n\nSo, a reason to get up, he decided.\n\nAs he hadn't brought in the rest of his bags, he yanked on the jeans he'd worn the day before, grabbed the shirt and shrugged into it as he started out of the bedroom.\n\nIt didn't sound like a radio, he realized as he approached the stairs. Or not just a radio. He recognized Adele easily enough as he moved through the main floor, but clearly heard a second female voice forming a kind of passionate\u2014and loud\u2014duet.\n\nHe followed the sound, winding through the house toward the kitchen.\n\nAdele's singing partner reached into one of the three cloth market bags on the counter, drew out a small bunch of bananas and added them to a bamboo bowl of apples and pears.\n\nHe couldn't quite get his mind around it, any of it.\n\nShe sang full out, and well\u2014not with Adele's magic, but well. And looked like a fairy, of the long and willowy variety.\n\nA mass of long curls the color of walnut tumbled around her shoulders, spilled down the back of a dark blue sweater. Her face was . . . _unusual_ , was all he could think. Long, almond-shaped eyes, the sharp nose and cheekbones, the top-heavy mouth down to the mole at its left corner struck him as just a little otherworldly.\n\nOr maybe it was just his fogged brain and the circumstances.\n\nRings glinted on her fingers. Dangles swung from her ears. A crescent moon hung around her neck, and a watch with a face as round and white as a baseball rode her left wrist.\n\nStill belting it out, she lifted a quart of milk, a pound of butter from the bag, started to turn toward the refrigerator. And saw him.\n\nShe didn't scream, but did take a stumbling step back, and nearly bobbled the milk.\n\n\"Eli?\" She set down the milk, laid a beringed hand on her heart. \"God! You scared me.\" With a throaty, breathless laugh, she shook back all that curling hair. \"You aren't due until this afternoon. I didn't see your car. But I came in the back,\" she continued, gesturing toward the door leading out to the main terrace. \"I guess you came in the front. Why wouldn't you? Did you drive up last night? Less traffic, I guess, but crappy roads with the sleet.\n\n\"Anyway, here you are. Would you like some coffee?\"\n\nShe looked like a long-legged fairy, he thought again, and had a laugh like a sea goddess.\n\nAnd she'd brought bananas.\n\nHe just stared at her. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Oh, sorry. I thought Hester told you. I'm Abra. Abra Walsh. Hester asked me to get the house ready for you. I'm just stocking the kitchen. How's Hester? I haven't spoken to her for a couple of days\u2014just quick e-mails and texts.\"\n\n\"Abra Walsh,\" he repeated. \"You found her.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She dug a bag of coffee beans out of a sack and began to fill a machine much like one he'd used daily at his law offices. \"Horrible day. She didn't come to yoga class\u2014she never misses. I called, but she didn't answer, so I came over to check. I have a key. I clean for her.\"\n\nWhile the machine hummed, she put an oversize mug under the spout, then continued putting away the groceries. \"I came in the back\u2014 habit. I called for her, but . . . Then I started to worry maybe she wasn't feeling well, so I walked through to go upstairs. And she was lying there. I thought . . . but she had a pulse, and she came around for a minute when I said her name. I called for an ambulance, and I got the throw off the sofa because I was afraid to move her. They were quick, but at the time, it seemed like hours.\"\n\nShe got a carton of cream out of the refrigerator, added it to the mug. \"Counter or breakfast nook?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Counter.\" She set the coffee down on the island. \"That way you can sit and talk to me.\" When he just stared at the coffee, she smiled. \"That's right, isn't it? Hester said a dollop of cream, no sugar.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Yes, thanks.\" Like a man sleepwalking, he moved to the island, sat on the stool.\n\n\"She's so strong, so smart, so herself. She's my hero, your grandmother. When I moved here a couple of years ago, she was the first person I really connected with.\"\n\nShe just kept talking. It didn't matter if he listened, she thought. Sometimes the sound of someone's voice could be comfort, and he looked as if he needed comfort.\n\nShe thought of the photos Hester had shown her of him, from a few years back. The easy smile, the light in his Landon blue eyes\u2014crystal blue with a dark, dark rim around the iris. Now he looked tired, sad and too thin.\n\nShe'd do what she could to fix that.\n\nSo thinking, she took eggs, cheese, ham out of the refrigerator.\n\n\"She's grateful you agreed to stay here. I know it upset her thinking of Bluff House empty. She said you're writing a novel?\"\n\n\"I . . . mmmm.\"\n\n\"I've read a couple of your short stories. I liked them.\" She put an omelet pan on the stove to heat. While it did, she poured a glass of orange juice, put some berries in a little colander to wash, bread in the toaster. \"I wrote bad romantic poetry when I was a teenager. It was even worse when I tried to set it to music. I love to read. I admire anyone who can put words together to tell a story. She's so proud of you. Hester.\"\n\nHe looked up then, met her eyes. Green, he realized, like a sea in thin fog, and as otherworldly as the rest of her.\n\nMaybe she wasn't here at all.\n\nThen her hand lay over his, just for a moment, warm and real. \"Your coffee's going to get cold.\"\n\n\"Right.\" He lifted the mug, drank. And felt marginally better.\n\n\"You haven't been here for a while,\" she continued, and poured the egg mixture into the omelet pan. \"There's a nice little restaurant down in the village\u2014and the pizza parlor's still there. I think you're pretty well stocked now, but the market's still there, too. If you need anything and don't want to go into the village, just let me know. I'm in Laughing Gull Cottage if you're out and want to stop in. Do you know it?\"\n\n\"I . . . yes. You . . . work for my grandmother?\"\n\n\"I clean for her once or twice a week, as she needed it. I clean for a few people\u2014as they need it. I teach yoga five times a week, in the church basement, and an evening a week in my cottage. Once I convinced Hester to try yoga, she was hooked. I do massages\"\u2014she gave him a quick grin over her shoulder\u2014\"therapeutic. I'm certified. I do a lot of things, because a lot of things interest me.\"\n\nShe plated the omelet with the fresh berries and toast. Set the plate in front of him, added a red linen napkin and flatware. \"I have to go, I'm running a little late.\"\n\nShe folded the market bags into an enormous red tote, slipped on a dark purple coat, wound a scarf of striped jewel tones around her neck, yanked on a purple wool cap.\n\n\"I'll see you the day after tomorrow, about nine.\"\n\n\"The day after tomorrow?\"\n\n\"To clean. If you need anything in the meantime, my number\u2014cell and home\u2014are on the board right there. Or if you're out for a walk and I'm home, stop by. So . . . welcome back, Eli.\"\n\nShe walked to the patio door, turned, smiled. \"Eat your breakfast,\" she ordered, and was gone.\n\nHe sat, staring at the door, then looked down at his plate. Because he couldn't think of anything else to do, he picked up his fork and ate.\nNora Roberts is the #1 _New York Times_ bestselling author of more than 200 novels. She is also the author of the bestselling futuristic suspense series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than 400 million copies of her books in print. Visit her online at www.noraroberts.com and facebook.com\/noraroberts.\n\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \n##\n\n# Expedition Beyond\n\nThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.\n\nThe Fiction Studio\n\nP.O. Box 4613\n\nStamford, CT 06907\n\nCopyright \u00a9 2011 by Roger Bagg\n\nJacket design by Barbara Aronica Buck\n\nCover art \u00a9 by Paul Youll\n\nPrint ISBN-13: 978-1-936558-22-3\n\nE-book ISB N-13: 978-1-936558-23-0\n\nVisit our website at www.fictionstudiobooks.com\n\nAll rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by U.S. Copyright Law.\n\nFor information, address The Fiction Studio.\n\nFirst Fiction Studio Printing: December 2011\n\nPrinted in The United States of America\n\nAs I write these words fireside at my Rocky Mountain log cabin retreat surrounded by dogs, and after practicing veterinary medicine for more than twenty years, it would be factitious of me to not include them. Therefore, within these pages, ye shall find dogs. \n\n##\n\n# Acknowledgment\n\nI thank God for making all things possible. \n\n##\n\n# Prologue\n\nMACDONNELL RANGES\n\nWEST OF ALICE SPRINGS, AUSTRALIA\n\nLATITUDE: 23\u00b0 42' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 133\u00b0 51' EAST\n\n_Day 10_\n\n3:30 PM LTD\n\nFlies landed on his face and crawled. His muscles twitched. They had walked across the Gibson Desert for thirteen days from Lake Mackay. Now, they were finally approaching Alice Springs. George Barrington squatted next to the path, resting his backpack against a rock. He removed his wide-brimmed hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his bandanna. The sound of flying insects filled the air.\n\nSed, his guide, observed, \"You look tired, Boss. Maybe we stop and rest. Maybe we have a snack.\"\n\nGeorge contemplated the aches of his body while Sed peeled an orange. He peered down at the blisters on his fingers and knew the soles of his feet would look even worse.\n\n\"Here, Boss.\" Sed tossed him half of the orange.\n\nThe lanky black man who accompanied him appeared astonishingly refreshed as he hummed under his breath, not drenched in sweat like George was.\n\nGeorge separated a section of orange and sucked it into his parched mouth.\n\nIt hadn't been the small, dingy office of Aboriginal Expeditions in Perth that had almost dissuaded George from continuing his Australian adventure, his first on the continent, but rather the discovery of the peculiar one-man operation he had engaged. In spite of the company's name, the man in charge turned out to be not an Aborigine, but rather from George's hometown. The tattoo on the light chocolate skin below Sed's rolled-up t-shirt sleeve read \"New York Native.\"\n\nThat first day, Sed had quickly leapt into action, rolling down his sleeves and grinning at his new client. His short-cropped hair lay in tight curls against his head; he wore khaki shorts and sandals. He was younger than George's forty-two years, but only barely.\n\n\"You must be George Barrington! I be Sed. I be your guide. I show you many wonderful things, George. I be happy to meet you!\" He clasped George's hand and shook it fervently.\n\nThere had been something odd in the way he'd said George's name then, like it had been some kind of private joke. Sed had long since settled on calling him \"Boss\" to avoid his inevitable little snicker at the end of \"George.\" George thought that Sed might be named George too\u2014he could easily picture him growing up in the New York projects. If so, he'd probably chosen the name Sed. Sed later confessed that he was an American from New York City, though he usually pretended to be an Aborigine\u2014in fact, Sed himself seemed to believe it most of the time.\n\nThey had bonded. George enjoyed Sed's dry humor. Not everyone could completely shed their past and their heritage, but Sed had. George gave him credit for that.\n\n\"You want more orange, Boss?\" Sed was peeling a second one, apparently warming up to tell another of his tall tales about Australia. \"Boss, when we get to Alice Springs, we just gonna dive in with all our clothes on. That springs water so clear, so cool, no white man ever seen it before. Cute little waterfalls, Boss. Little fish to tickle your toes.\"\n\n\"Sed, Alice Springs is a town.\"\n\nSed's eyes widened as if he were being told Santa Claus didn't exist. \"Boss, you got to be kiddin' me. You make a joke, right? I never been this far in the Outback before, but springs is springs. Right, Boss?\"\n\nGeorge burst out laughing. \"Sed, can you answer just one question truthfully?\"\n\n\"Sure, Boss.\"\n\nReferring to the claim in Sed's brochure that had brought him to Australia, George asked, \"Can you tell me what I've seen that no other man has seen before?\"\n\nSed thought for a minute. Insects buzzed.\n\n\"Boss, no man has ever seen these flies. These flies only three, maybe four days old. These great flies, British flies. Australian flies too easy to swat. Not these flies\u2014they too fast. Run fast, too. Best flies in the world, Boss, U.K. flies. We bring 'em here so you get that total Outback experience. Nothing but the best for you.\"\n\nGeorge felt the earth tremble slightly and his grin faded.\n\n\"You feel that, Sed?\"\n\n\"What, Boss? You mean remorse for telling fly lies? No Boss, no remorse.\"\n\nThe earth shook again\u2014this time more violently.\n\n\"Okay, Boss, I felt it, too. But we don't get earthquakes in Australia. No, sir, so that's the camels. It's mating season for the camels. A lot of stompin' the ground, that sort of thing. Probably a whole flock of them just up ahead, stompin', you know, Boss.\"\n\n\"You mean there really are wild camels here?\" George was half-tempted to get his camera out of his backpack, just in case camels actually did turn up around the next bend.\n\nThe earth shook again.\n\n\"Boss, we best be going, in case that flock of camels comes charging down this path. Come on, Boss, let's go now!\" Sed tossed his orange into his pack and stood up quickly.\n\nThe earth shook violently, then it heaved\u2014and, with a whoosh, subsided.\n\nWhen the movement stopped, the spot where two New Yorkers had been peacefully munching orange in the Outback had become a cavernous, black crater.\n\nA hare wallaby darted to the edge of the abyss, then scrambled to change direction in the shifting sand, but too late; it, too, disappeared into the darkness. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 1\n\n\"THE BUS STOP\"\n\nBOULDER, COLORADO\n\nLATITUDE: 40\u00b0 1' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 105\u00b0 16' WEST\n\nThe stripper removed her G-string and continued to dance naked, her body undulated to the earthy, rock beat.\n\nDes noticed movement next to him and turned his head. Mitch had a ten-dollar bill folded lengthwise clenched between his teeth; he was flipping it up and down.\n\nThe dancer squatted on the runway, knees wide, smiled and took the cash with her lips.\n\n\"Did you see that?\" Mitch said with a shit-faced grin.\n\n\"Her name is April,\" Des said.\n\n\"How the fuck would you know?\"\n\nMitch drained his schooner, then refilled his glass from the beer pitcher.\n\n\"Trust me, I know.\"\n\n\"So it's her fucking stage name,\" Mitch conceded.\n\nDes smiled. \"Nope. April Adams\u2014she has an apartment on Pearl Street.\"\n\nThe music stopped and bright lights glared simultaneously. April vanished behind a curtain.\n\n\"Fifteen minutes till closing,\" the topless waitress said, making her rounds.\n\nApril Adams reappeared in a blue chiffon robe. She marched directly to Des with two men\u2014the night manager and a bouncer\u2014close on her heels.\n\nDes pushed back his chair and stood.\n\n\"I knew it was you,\" April said, then she slapped Des' face hard. \"Don't you ever come in here again!\"\n\nDes said, \"I'm sorry how it all turned out. I didn't bolt; I had questions.\"\n\n\"Question this!\"\n\nThe manager wrestled April's hand from delivering another slap while the bouncer began herding Des toward the door.\n\nThe manager said, \"You can't treat the customers\u2014\"\n\n\"He's no customer. He's a fucking louse!\" April interrupted.\n\nOutside, Des dodged a speeding motorcycle in the parking lot.\n\n\"What did you do to her?\" Mitch asked.\n\n\"Left her standing alone at a Vegas wedding chapel altar.\" Des shrugged and grinned.\n\n\"You want to take those fuckers on?\" Mitch offered.\n\nDes laughed. \"She's not worth it. April's a sexual jackrabbit\u2014no finesse or style.\"\n\n\"Whatever you say, Captain.\"\n\nMitch's cellphone rang and he answered it while Des unlocked the doors of his BMW. Mitch ended his call quickly, then jumped into the passenger seat.\n\nHe told Des cheerily, \"It's a go. All clear!\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow.\"\n\n\"It's already tomorrow,\" Des said, starting his engine.\n\nELLESMERE ISLAND, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE: 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\n_Day 28_\n\n6:00 AM Local Time of Day\n\nNear the end of Boster Denton Expedition \"Ice-Pick\"\n\nDes Cox felt totally, utterly, inexorably tired and ill, decades older than his thirty-two years. He opened his eyes, then focused on the Timex alarm clock six inches from his face. He had not slept well. He stretched his aching legs in his sleeping bag and waited. The clock's alarm would ring at 6:15; he would simply watch it until then.\n\nHe knew he had failed, and that was what bothered him most. After climbing the corporate ladder for the past eight years to become the Vice-President of Metallurgy, he had also become what he despised. He remembered the expressions of abject despair on the faces of employees upon whose termination notices he'd written simply \"nonperformance.\" He was haunted by the images.\n\nNow the expedition he led had found nothing for twenty-seven days; they had only three days left before the long trip back home. His stomach began to churn. While Des had always known it was a long shot, he hadn't told his superiors at Boster Denton. Using satellite photographs and maps in the boardroom, he had convinced them the rift would be easy to find.\n\nA deep crevice had opened in the ice at the edge of the Arctic Ocean near the magnetic North Pole; the shadow appeared on recent photographs, but had not been there three years earlier. Des had explained to the board that this was an exceptional opportunity not to be missed. He'd emphasized the possibility of finding rare minerals and his wit and charm had swayed their judgment. Why else would the board spend three hundred grand to fund an exploratory adventure?\n\nDes wished he hadn't brazenly insisted on leading the team; upon reflection, their acceptance of his proposal seemed too easy. Des had never before been on assignment outside his office, yet they expected him to succeed just like he had in-house. Now that he had failed, he would certainly lose the job he loved.\n\nThe alarm clock rang. Des closed his eyes.\n\nHis tent flap zipped open and in bounded what might have been a bear. _Great, let him eat me,_ Des thought briefly. _Serve me right._\n\nHowever, he knew it was not a bear.\n\nThe other expeditionary geologist, dressed in fur, kicked Des softly in the butt. Mitch was allergic to Tevlar, the best personal insulation available. He had insisted on a genuine Alaskan brown-bear fur coat, rather than the orange plastic ones everyone else wore. The hood was pulled tightly over his head; locks of curly blond hair silhouetted his face.\n\nDes feigned to be asleep, but Mitch kicked him again.\n\n\"You son-of-a-bitch! Get your ass out of bed! Are you going to sleep 'til fucking noon or what? You've got the rest of us out freezing our fucking asses off for nothing! You ought to be shot at fucking daybreak\u2014if there ever is a fucking daybreak around this hellhole.\"\n\nMitch seemed murderously gleeful, even for Mitch, especially considering the early hour. _Maybe he's drunk,_ Des thought. Hell, maybe he's always drunk; nobody could tell with Mitch.\n\nMitch kicked Des a little harder. \"Get up, you lazy asshole. Those fetching baby blue eyes of yours might attract girls, but they're useless for anything else. Twenty-seven days and you find shit, you fucking asshole.\"\n\nDes opened one eye.\n\n\"What the hell are you trying to tell me, Mitch?\"\n\nMitch wandered about the tent, then looked back at Des and grinned.\n\n\" _We found it!_ You couldn't, but _we fucking found it.\"_ Mitch held his gloved hands against the sides of his hood. \"Des, it's beautiful! It's everything we could have imagined\u2014but it's east ten miles, not west. It's even bigger than we thought: fifty meters by fucking fifty meters. Deeper, too\u2014we've spent all night trying to find the fucking bottom. Hell, maybe there isn't a bottom. But we have only three fucking days left, so there's no time to sleep. Get your ass out of bed!\"\n\nWhen Mitch kicked at him again, Des grabbed his friend's foot and twisted him to the Gore-Tex floor. They rolled around, wrestling and laughing like kids. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 2\n\n14,000' OVER NORTHERN CANADA\n\nLATITUDE: 73\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 99\u00b0 30' WEST\n\n_Day 1_\n\n1600 Coordinated Universal Time, 10:00 AM LTD\n\nThe beginning of Boster Denton Expedition \"Ice-Pick\"\n\nThe loudspeaker in the bay of the ancient C140 cargo plane crackled as the pilot announced that they were two hours to target.\n\nDes was confident that this 85-year-old airplane was the best one for the job. It had been meticulously maintained and, for all practical purposes, was just like new. The bonus was the cargo-hold door, which opened downward, because it was from there that they would jump. He checked his watch: sixteen hundred hours, Coordinated Universal Time. The jump was scheduled for eighteen hundred hours UTC\u2014twelve PM, local time.\n\nDes' watch was a Timex or he would not be wearing it. He had three Timexes with him: his wristwatch, the pocket watch in his pack and a replica of an antique, wind-up clock ( _hands_ instead of glowing numerals) with a clacker-bell alarm.\n\nTelevision commercials had sold Des on Timex. The first Timex commercial he had ever seen had shown several people with naked wrists failing at sports and work. Then an obviously wealthy man, finishing an Eggs Benedict brunch at the Ritz, looked lovingly at his Timex and said, \"Check, please.\" The slogan appeared: _Timex is there, only if you care._\n\nDes cared. He bought his first Timex\u2014a pocket watch\u2014when he was fifteen.\n\nFive years had passed before another commercial rekindled his love for Timex: A Timex wristwatch had been pitted against the atomic clock in Boulder, Colorado\u2014one of only three worldwide entrusted with tracking global time\u2014for ten years. Each time the Boulder Fountain Clock had been started\u2014so named because of the way it spewed cesium atoms upward\u2014the Timex watch matched the time. Des had assumed the watch had been secretly connected to an external battery\u2014how else could it keep time accurately for so long? It had been his first exposure to solid-state power supply. SSPS now ran virtually everything, but back then, those tiny plastic self-renewing polymers ran only a Timex. The ad slogan had barely mentioned the secret energy source: _Our Celestial Series timepieces, empowered by the stars, will run for a lifetime without interruption. Unlike other timepieces, this series is not based on atomic time. Our pledge to you: They will display the correct astronomical time. Timex...cares._\n\nIt had been a cheap shot. Competitors quickly pointed out the actual difference between atomic and astronomical time was one second in thirty million years. It was simply easier to use cesium atoms to tell time than heavenly bodies.\n\nStill, Des had been impressed. He'd bought another Timex.\n\nHe purchased his clock after another Timex commercial: _When's the best time to buy a Timex? Now. Introducing our one-hundredth anniversary, limited edition, collector clocks\u2014with hands, with wind-up, with a bell._\n\nDes looked across the cargo bay at Mitch, who was dry-heaving into the bag between his legs for the umpteenth time. The hood of his fur coat didn't hide the pale green of his face. Des tried to reassure Mitch with a thumbs-up but received only a blank stare in response. Mitch sat next to the bay door; to his left sat the portly Dr. Stephen Summers, who occasionally patted Mitch on the leg or said some words of encouragement. Mitch kept getting paler. Des was afraid his old friend was about to die.\n\nDes had known Mitch Jones for fourteen years; they had roomed together as freshmen at Colorado School of Mines. Mitch said \"fuck\" all the time; he couldn't help it. You either accepted his foul language or you avoided Mitch.\n\nThey had been seated together at graduation when the name \"Alicia Mitchell Jones\" had been called to receive a diploma.\n\nTo Des' surprise, Mitch had stood up, whispering to him, \"You shut the fuck up.\"\n\nDes was aware that Mitch had never known his father and assumed that his mother had given him a girl's name deliberately. If she'd done it to strengthen his resolve and his ability to stand alone against adversity, she had certainly succeeded.\n\nMitch was physically the strongest member of the team; at thirty-two, he still looked like an overgrown adolescent. He could pump iron at the gym for hours, or practice Judo with Des in martial arts class, then go down to the pub and chug beers. But he was a wimp when it came to flying, the only team member who was not an accomplished parachutist, even though he'd trained at ground school. The outside of his chute pack had a hook that would be attached inside the plane so his chute would open automatically when he jumped.\n\nWhen Mitch heaved into his bag again, Dr. Summers patted his leg.\n\nDes had joined Boster Denton after graduation as a technical assistant metallurgist to foster advanced weapons construction. After he'd steered the company into the lucrative business of recreational equipment, he was awarded with a promotion to Vice-President of Metallurgy. Now he was commanding his own expedition.\n\nMeanwhile, Mitch had served a brief stint as an instructor at Mines, but the college's Board of Regents hadn't approved of him teaching his students how to use \"fuck\" as a noun, pronoun, adjective, verb and adverb. The first time the Regents admonished him, Mitch had promised to omit the word from his lectures, but the fifth time, he unleashed an ill-advised tirade of \"fucks\" on the Regents, who were totally unappreciative of his verbal artistry and fired him on the spot.\n\nMitch had immediately called Des. \"Those fucking bastards! Fuck them. Who the fuck do they think they are? Fuckers, all of them!\"\n\n\"Calm down, Mitch. How would you like to work with me? Come over and we'll talk about it.\"\n\nBoster Denton didn't have the same qualms as academia, so Des had promptly hired Mitch.\n\nDes unzipped a pocket on his chest-pack and removed his pocket watch\u2014one hour until the drop.\n\nJack Squires was the team's computer expert and a worrywort. Seated just ahead of Des, he pulled on his coat sleeve to get his attention, then yelled to be heard over the whine of the engines.\n\n\"Shouldn't we have put the snow Gliders in crates? What if one of the jets gets damaged when it lands? What if one ends up on a slope and tips over? Would the jet fuel leak? I think wooden crates would have made the drop safer.\" Des nodded toward Bearters, the Inuit guide, seated in front of Jack. \"It's his country, and he said no trash, nothing left behind\u2014and that includes wooden crates.\"\n\nDes had handpicked all of the team members except for Jack and Bearters. Bearters had been assigned to the group by the Inuit government. He'd barely spoken since he'd joined them. His large frame was relaxed, his attitude sullen or perhaps merely bored. Des had met him only when the plane had departed from Pelly Bay, and he'd wondered how much English the Inuit actually understood. While Des had explained the mission to him in detail, Bearters had only nodded occasionally.\n\nWhen he'd finished, Bearters had said, \"You will leave my country as you found it.\"\n\n\"We could have burned them,\" Jack said about the crates.\n\n\"They'll be just fine.\"\n\nJack appeared about nineteen years old and fidgeted constantly. His face was pockmarked with the scars of teenage acne; combined with his short stature, it belied his true age, which Des knew to be twenty-six. Des never would have picked Jack to be on the team; Boster Denton's president had chosen him for reasons never explained to Des.\n\nIn addition to the seven team members, the plane's hold had six snow Gliders and six sleds packed with enough supplies for almost two months, as a precautionary measure. Their mission was simple: Find the crevasse, explore it, collect samples or specimens, then leave.\n\nThe snow Glider was a Boster Denton success story. Each of their lightweight bodies covered four jet engines that lifted the Glider from two to eight inches above the snow. Speed was adjusted by ground clearance; the lower the level, the faster the speed. A Glider was designed to propel a sled connected to its front. With a snow sled and the Glider set to hover at eight inches, they'd manage barely fifteen miles per hour. On a flat surface, like a frozen lake, a snow Glider set at two inches and, utilizing winged stabilizers, could clock out at 160 miles per hour. On each side of the Glider, below the Boster Denton insignia, large red letters read: \"Stay Back Ten Feet,\" because the porous ceramic exhaust plates that dissipated engine heat sideways and upwards could singe anyone nearby.\n\nThe pilot announced thirty minutes till drop.\n\nDes looked at Kathy Summers, the doctor's wife. She was still pretty at 47; her willowy figure contrasted with her husband's rotundity. Her shoulder-length brunette hair was carefully styled. Originally, Des had been opposed to her coming along, but Stephen, the Cox family practitioner, had insisted he would not go without her, and Des couldn't come up with any valid reasons why she should not go. He needed Stephen, who was always calm and reassuring, to help anchor Mitch, as well as for any medical emergencies or problems which might arise.\n\nDes had told Kathy, \"You can come, but you'll have to do all the cooking for us, and the cleanup, and you're to stay in camp at all times.\" He'd half-expected her to call him a chauvinist, but she'd merely said that would be fine with her.\n\nHans Brinker rounded out his team. An excellent climber, the tall, thin Norwegian practiced on ropes whenever possible. Even standing in the cargo bay, he pulled himself up to the ceiling with one of the ropes, then rappelled back down. He had been an instructor at the climbing academy Mitch and Des had attended.\n\n\"Fifteen minutes to drop,\" the loudspeaker announced with a crackle.\n\nDes stood and motioned to everyone to put on their helmets. They all complied, except for Mitch, who reluctantly allowed Stephen to help him.\n\nDes adjusted the small microphone closer to his mouth. \"This is an intercom test. Please answer 'check' when your name is called.\"\n\nMitch coughed into his microphone.\n\n\"Stephen.\"\n\n\"Check.\"\n\n\"Kathy.\"\n\n\"Check.\"\n\n\"Hans.\"\n\n\"Check.\"\n\n\"Jack.\"\n\n\"Check.\"\n\n\"Bearters.\"\n\n\"Check.\"\n\n\"Mitch.\"\n\nThere was silence.\n\n\"Mitch, come on! Can you hear me? Mitch, check in!\"\n\nStephen broke in. \"Des, he'll be all right. I'll get him hooked on the line when it's his turn to jump.\"\n\n\"Roger,\" Des answered. \"Okay, I think everyone knows this, but listen up one more time: First out will be Glider One. Hans will push that out, then he'll push out Sled One, and then Hans will jump.\"\n\nThe pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker: \"Five minutes to drop zone. ETA, five minutes.\"\n\nDes continued: \"Okay, then Glider Two and Sled Two\u2014Bearters pushes them both out, then follows. Glider Three, Sled Three, and Jack. Glider Four, Sled Four, and Kathy. The Doc will shove out Glider Five, Sled Five. Then he and I will hook up Mitch on the cable and send him down.\"\n\nMitch closed his pale eyes.\n\n\"I will push out Glider Six and Sled Six. After they're away, Stephen will jump, then me. Any questions?\" Silence. \"All right, then let's have a good jump. Nobody gets hurt.\"\n\nMinutes later, the pilot said over the loudspeaker, \"Approaching drop zone. Opening hatch. I will count you down. ETA, two minutes.\"\n\nDes reminded his team, \"Locate and collect your Glider and sled. Leave your beacon on and stay put. I will find you. Please don't drive around.\"\n\nThe hatch door whined open slowly and sky filled the belly of the plane.\n\nThe pilot announced, \"Beginning countdown to drop zone: On my mark, begin drop. Countdown commencing: Ten\u2014\"\n\n\"Visors down,\" Des said.\n\nStephen pulled down Mitch's visor, then his own.\n\nDes said a silent prayer.\n\nMitch stood up swiftly, grabbed the metal link on the front of snow Glider One and shoved it backwards out of the hatch. Still hanging on to it, he disappeared into the gray sky.\n\nDes saw the hook on the back of Mitch's parachute flapping wildly in the wind and felt a moment of panic; he knew Mitch couldn't open his chute by himself.\n\n\"\u2014seven, six\u2014\" counted the loudspeaker voice.\n\n\"Jesus Fucking Chrr...ist!\" a disembodied voice said over his headset.\n\n\"\u2014three, two\u2014\"\n\n\"It's a go! It's a go!\" Des shouted into his mike.\n\n\"\u2014one. Mark.\"\n\nHans pushed out Sled One, then jumped. The rest followed in turn. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 3\n\nELLESMERE ISLAND, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE: 81\u00b0 45' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 76\u00b0 5' WEST\n\nDay 1; 1820 UTC, 12:20 PM LTD\n\nAs Des descended into the grayness, he checked his altimeter: 500 feet. At 200 feet, he would touch ground he could not see. He looked toward his chute, but saw only gray fog. He prepared for impact, then hit the ground hard, bending his knees. Due to the rough terrain, they had been instructed not to roll, and to immediately pull in their chutes.\n\nDes gathered in his chute, stumbling twice and falling once.\n\nHe was reminded of when he and Mitch had gone skiing at Vail. Des had skied only once before; to him, Mitch had looked like a madman on the slopes. Later, Des had made progress and actually begun schussing.\n\n\"Be careful, with this fucking cloud cover, the light will be flat,\" Mitch had warned as they'd gotten off the ski lift.\n\nWhat was flat light? Des carefully maneuvered past other skiers while Mitch took off fast\u2014and with a yodel. As Des picked up speed, he began to understand. He couldn't see the bumps on the slope; it all looked gray. There would be no snow beneath his skis and he would descend suddenly, only to find an invisible mound forcing his skis upward. He was picking up speed, but couldn't tell sky from snow. Two quick bumps laid him out, his body spinning wildly. The ski bindings gave way; he rolled over twice and stopped. When he'd regained his equilibrium, he strapped on his skis and finished the run.\n\nIf that light in Vail had been flat, the light here was super flat. As was poor Mitch now, undoubtedly. Des couldn't fathom why Mitch had bailed out as he had. He finished packing his chute, then stood, surrounded by silence. No wind. And no sign of Mitch. If Bearters didn't even want burned crates here, what would he think about dead Americans littering the ground? Des removed his helmet to stare into the gray gloom and immediately felt his eyebrows and mustache freeze. He studied the gray sky, the gray snow, the gray ice and the gray fog as he thought about Mitch free-falling to the ground.\n\nHe would locate Mitch's body, then find the emergency radio and call in a helicopter. The mission was over before it had begun. The snow Gliders and sleds would have to be left behind, if he could convince Bearters that they would return to retrieve them. The Inuit wouldn't like that, but it was better than leaving Mitch's body.\n\nDes decided he would be the best person to inform Mitch's mother of her son's death. That he shared her grief would console her. He'd not only lost his best friend, but he had failed miserably in his most important responsibility: the safety of the members of his expeditionary team. Because of that, Mitch was dead.\n\nHe put his helmet on and removed his front-pack, which like Mitch's had no spare chute. Mitch couldn't have opened his chute on his own because there was no ripcord. Thirty feet of wire had been coiled inside, attached to the hook on Mitch's back and to the automatic opening device with its air canisters to ensure full deployment; it was a fail-safe system\u2014unless you had to open it in midair. There was no way to reach the hook.\n\nIn the quiet, gray stillness that surrounded him, Des felt somehow detached, but he said a prayer for Mitch.\n\nDes' Tevlar gloves were warm and thin enough for his fingers to work efficiently. He pulled out his trusty GPS, a gift from his parents, traced a finger along the crack on its face, then turned it on. Within three seconds, it displayed the latitude and longitude. While it looked right to Des, he made a mental note to check his GPS against Jack's before he radioed for help. That crack had been there for three years without a problem, but it'd be wise to make sure before he endangered his team further.\n\nHe stowed his GPS in its pocket, then took out his faceplate. He took off his helmet again, snapped it to his belt and put on the faceplate, pulling the hood of his coat tightly around it. He unzipped another pocket, pulled out his Finder, and turned it on.\n\nThe Finder looked like an oval handheld mirror. At the top was a 15 cm LCD screen with four touch buttons\u2014one on the right, three on the left\u2014and at the bottom was a stem handle. A black dot in the center of the screen blinked four times, turned solid red, then the Finder buzzed. The number \"7\" was displayed at the bottom left of the screen, \"zero meters\" at the bottom right\u2014the Finder had automatically defaulted to finding itself. Des pushed the third button on the left until \"5\" was displayed. Holding the Finder out in front of him, he slowly turned around in a full circle. No blinking black dot appeared; the screen remained blank, indicating that Mitch hadn't turned on his transmitter.\n\nDes searched for \"6\" and a blinking black dot immediately flashed on the right side of the screen. He turned until the dot was in the middle and read the distance: two hundred meters. He picked up his bundled chute and front-pack and walked toward Stephen, carefully following the reading on the Finder.\n\nThe fog seemed to be packed more densely around the doctor\u2014he looked like an apparition in the flat light. He wore his faceplate and hood and his hands were clasped behind his back.\n\n\"I'm sorry about Mitch. I know he was a good friend of yours,\" Stephen said as Des neared.\n\nDes nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing.\n\nAll Finders were beacons, but not all beacons were Finders. Stephen had already retrieved the sled and Glider, both with a large \"6\" on each side, by following their non-Finder beacons. Each team member had been assigned a numbered sled and Glider; Des was assigned to Six, Kathy and Stephen shared Four. Mitch had pushed out Glider One, the one assigned to Hans. While Des knew the numbers of the units assigned to the team members, only they had memorized the beacon code for their own Glider and sled, so Des would have to wait until he found Hans to know if the beacon on Glider One was working.\n\nDes and Stephen stowed their chutes and had hooked the sled to the front of the Glider, before Des realized the difficulty of locating snow Glider Five and Sled Five, because only Mitch had known their Finder codes.\n\n\"Doc, what's packed on Sled Five?\"\n\n\"I don't know. It's either food or equipment, but hopefully not the food sled, or we'll be up a creek if we can't find it. Jack has the contents of each sled on his computer. Maybe Bearters can find them without the beacons,\" he added.\n\nDes punched in \"4\" on his Finder and the flashing black dot appeared on the right-hand side of the screen. He set it in a holder on the front of his Glider; they climbed on and Des fired up the engines. When the snow Glider rose a foot off the ground, Des pushed a control lever forward and the small jet engines rotated back. With a lurch, they were off to find Kathy.\n\nKathy was seated on the ice, posing with her legs crossed and one hand behind her head. She didn't move until Des had turned off the Glider and both men had dismounted.\n\n\"What took you guys so long?\" she said. \"At this rate, it's going to be dark by the time we make camp.\" It was a joke\u2014the sun wouldn't set for another two months.\n\nSince Kathy had collected Glider and Sled Four, she and Stephen mounted that one, while Des climbed back on Six.\n\nThey traveled southwest, opposite where they would have headed to make base camp. This had been the subject of a lively discussion on deployment before they left, but Des had final say and he didn't think they would lose too much time backtracking.\n\nWhen they reached Jack, Des pulled him aside.\n\n\"When you get a chance, look up the contents of Sled Five.\"\n\nJack replied, \"I already know: sustenance, Des. It's the food wagon.\"\n\nShit.\n\nBy the time they reached Bearters, Des had three urgent things for him to find: Mitch, Sled Five, and Snow Glider Five.\n\nDes pulled Jack away from the others again. \"I want you to wait here with Kathy while Stephen, Bearters, and I go pick up Hans and look for Mitch.\"\n\nJack nodded.\n\nStephen unhitched his sled from his Glider. Bearters climbed on Glider Two, Stephen and Des shared Four. According to the Finder, Hans was two thousand meters due west.\n\nWhen they arrived, Hans was seated on top of the roped-on canvas covering Sled One.\n\n\"We need to find Mitch,\" Des told him without preamble.\n\n\"Ja, I know.\"\n\n\"Is Glider One's beacon on?\"\n\n\"Ja, it's on.\"\n\n\"How far?\"\n\n\"Thirty-four hundred meters. I thought I should wait for you.\"\n\n\"You did right. Let's get going.\"\n\nHans climbed on behind Bearters.\n\nAfter a few minutes Bearters suddenly stopped his Glider, got off and walked back into the gray fog. He reemerged with a brown pack, then turned it towards them to show the hook.\n\nIt was Mitch's parachute, still fully packed.\n\nWhen they reached Glider One, Des inspected it. Though the craft seemed undamaged, something was missing.\n\n_The Glider's parachute was gone!_ Des focused on the carabiner where it had been attached. Before he could say anything, he heard grunts from the fog.\n\nEveryone heard it; they all froze, except for Bearters, who released the leather thong from the trigger of his holstered Colt .45.\n\nMore grunts, louder and closer. Whatever it was sounded menacingly big and threateningly active. Bearters eased out his pistol and cocked it.\n\nOut of the fog came the shriek of a wounded animal, followed by _\"Fuck!\"_\n\nMitch strode rapidly toward them, apparently agitated. His fur coat was wide open; he wore no hat, no faceplate, no gloves\u2014his face was crimson and he was holding his cellphone to his ear. He thrust it towards the others.\n\n\"Look at this fucker. What the fuck is no-fucking-service? How am I going to call my mother if there is no fucking service?\"\n\n\"Careful, they're probably charging you twenty bucks a minute to display 'no service,'\" Stephen said calmly.\n\n\"Really?\" Mitch turned off his phone and shoved it into his coat pocket.\n\n\"What did you think you were doing?\" Des demanded, ecstatic to see his best friend was still alive.\n\n\"I was taking a leak. Surely our little Eskimo friend won't mind me leaving _that_ behind.\" He pointed at Bearters with a glower.\n\nWhen Des saw Bearters tense, he stepped between the two men. Mitch could probably beat Bearters in a fistfight, but there was that .45 in the Inuit's hand.\n\nDes told Mitch, \"I meant what were you doing by _jumping...\"_\n\nStill not answering Des' question, Mitch announced, \"It seems I've lost the snow Glider's chute, somewhere over there.\" He waved an arm and gloveless hand. \"Perhaps _we_ could go and find it. That is part of _our_ job, isn't it?\"\n\nDes knew that Mitch meant Bearters. Des shrugged at Bearters, who slowly holstered his pistol, then walked into the fog.\n\n\"Wait for me, I help,\" Hans called, and disappeared after him.\n\nDes chided Mitch, \"Bearters is part of the team. He's here to help.\"\n\nMitch would have none of it. \"He's a fucking Indian. He's here to watch us, to make sure we follow their rules. I don't like rules.\"\n\nMitch zipped and buttoned his fur coat, then pulled his fur hood tight around his face, snapping it shut with a grin. Des was still amazed that he was alive.\n\n\"I rode the son-of-a-bitch down,\" Mitch finally explained, triumphantly.\n\n\"You did what?\" Stephen inquired.\n\n\"The snow Glider. I rode the fucker down. I climbed over its skin and seat-belted myself in.\"\n\n\"That's impossible,\" Des said.\n\nMitch ignored him. \"At fifty meters over the ground, I fired the sucker up and turned those jets on full. When we touched surface, I was moving forward, so I unsnapped the chute and backed off the throttle 'til I was sitting pretty. Yup, I rode the fucker down.\"\n\nBearters and Hans returned twenty minutes later. They had found not only the Glider's chute, but also Mitch's front-pack.\n\n\"You've got caribou kisses on your nose and cheeks,\" Bearters said to Mitch, whose crimson face was marked with white spots; Des knew that Bearters was referring to frostbite. \"Put your faceplate on.\"\n\n\"Fuck you,\" Mitch said, running a gloved hand across his nose.\n\n\"Do it. He's right,\" Des told Mitch.\n\nMitch took his faceplate out of his pack. \"Hey, Bearters, you have a way with finding left-behinds. Now get right behind me.\" Mitch turned his back to the Inuit and farted loudly.\n\nBearters' hand went for his revolver.\n\n\"Both of you\u2014stop acting like children,\" Des sighed. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 4\n\nELLESMERE ISLAND, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE: 81\u00b0 45' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 76\u00b0 6' WEST\n\nDay 1; 1910 UTC, 2:10 PM LTD\n\nKathy and Jack stood up as the others returned. Kathy gave Mitch an enthusiastic hug, which Mitch accepted graciously.\n\n\"I think it's time we eat!\" Des told the team. \"Mitch, you have the keys to the kitchen.\"\n\nMitch looked puzzled. \"I do? Oh, well yes, I do, don't I?\"\n\nHe turned on his Finder and punched in 2-3-5. The black dot of Sled Five appeared onscreen.\n\nWhen they retrieved the food sled, Kathy heated soup over a white gas burner. After they ate, Mitch and Hans left to find the last Glider.\n\nDes approached Jack, who was working on his computer. Jack closed his laptop so Des couldn't see the monitor, which Des thought odd.\n\n\"You have a GPS with you, don't you?\" Des asked.\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\nDes put Jack's GPS alongside his own and turned them on; to his relief, they displayed the same coordinates.\n\nDes mounted his GPS on his snow Glider, completely unaware that when he had fastened his GPS, a tiny magnetized iron filing from the corporate offices of Boster Denton finished working its way through the cover to fall near the unit's receiver. The digital numbers on the face began to change, slowly at first, then building in speed until they were digital blurs. The computer shut down, then restarted after a three-second delay, rebuilding its memory and approximating their location with near accuracy.\n\n\"Jack, one more thing...\" Why did Jack keep hiding his monitor? \"When we make camp, I want you in charge of the radio. It's old, it's not SSPS, and the batteries will last only a week or two, so test it to make sure it's working okay, then hide it. I don't want Mitch calling his mom or striking up a relationship with some Icelandic beauty and running down the batteries. It's our only connection to the rest of the world.\"\n\n\"Sure, Des. Not a problem.\"\n\nDes consulted his compass and maps to plot a course. Since they were headed toward the magnetic North Pole, all he really had to do was follow the compass needle north. If it began to spin wildly, he would know they had gone too far. He guessed they were about one hundred kilometers away from the target and figured that would take about six hours on the Gliders.\n\nAfter Mitch and Hans returned on separate Gliders, Des assigned everyone places for their journey. When Bearters announced he would bring up the rear, Mitch sniped that he just wanted to pick up any candy wrappers the others threw away.\n\nDes wished his old friend would develop laryngitis.\n\nThe going was tougher than Des had expected; the fog seemed even denser than before and he could see only fifteen meters ahead as he led his team across the ice. He steered around or followed along snow banks and ice barriers for two hours until he got back on course.\n\nThe engines of Des' vehicle sputtered to a stop, then his Glider fell hard onto the ice. The rest quickly turned off their engines and waited as Des dismounted and stared at his Glider, feeling betrayed. He pushed the starter button twice. Nothing happened.\n\nMitch wandered over. \"What's holding up the wagon train?\"\n\nDes shrugged.\n\nMitch got on Des' Glider, tried the starter button, then examined the Glider's function list.\n\nHe said, \"Fuel line,\" slid off the Glider, and disappeared back into the fog.\n\nHe returned with an acetylene torch, lit it, and adjusted the gas to a blue flame, which he directed onto the fuel line.\n\nDes grabbed his arm and pulled the torch away. \"The fuel inside will expand and explode!\"\n\nMitch said, \"Look, you've got ice in your fucking line, probably the filter. It's tough to change out\u2014four hours, easy. Fucking tough to get to, and I'd have to find the tools and a new filter. I'll just warm up the line a bit, that's all.\"\n\n\"But, it could explode before the ice melts! Aren't you a little worried about that?\"\n\nMitch grinned. \"I'll never know it. You'd best get back a ways.\"\n\nAs Des did, he saw Mitch remove a fur glove to hold the line near where he was directing the torch, using his bare hand to check for heat.\n\n\"The next time we do this,\" Mitch's voice rose in volume so Bearters could hear him, \"the next time we do this, we should bring along a mechanic and not a fucking Indian.\"\n\nA closer male voice to Des, Bearters, said, \"There will be no next time for you.\"\n\nMitch whipped the torch wildly at arm's length without seeing who'd spoken.\n\nHe told Des, \"I ought to stick this up his fat Eskimo ass. Then we'd see how funny he is.\"\n\nMitch hit the start button and the engines roared to life.\n\n\"Wagons, ho!\" he announced happily, turning the Glider back over to Des.\n\nAfter the Glider rose so he could see over the sled, Des checked his compass and GPS.\n\nThree hours more passed in slow travel, putting them two hours behind Des' schedule. The fog was less dense than it had been, so they traveled a bit faster, but it would still take another four hours to get to base camp\u2014nearly midnight local time, 0600 by his watch. The entire team would be tired, but they would still have to make camp. Des realized belatedly that he should have made allowances for problems or equipment failures\u2014examined contingencies to ensure success. A real general could control thousands of soldiers with fewer problems than he had with only six. He needed to squash the growing rivalry between Bearters and Mitch. He made plans to rally his troops when they reached their target.\n\nAt 0400 hours, Des stopped and called out, \"Mitch, please help Kathy break out some dinner. We'll eat here, then go on to make camp.\"\n\nKathy and Mitch handed out MREs\u2014Meals Ready to Eat\u2014not gourmet fare by a long shot, but welcome nonetheless.\n\nJack stopped pecking away at his computer keyboard only briefly to take bites of his meal. Bearters squatted on the ground near Jack, as far from Mitch as possible.\n\nDes told the group, \"When we get to base camp in about two hours, everyone has an assigned job. If you have any questions, come to me, because this mission and you are my responsibility. I am solely in charge.\"\n\nHe heard Bearters whisper to Jack, \"Who made him Captain Kangaroo?\"\n\nDes told Bearters, \"Let's get one thing straight: This is your country, but my command. Do you understand?\"\n\nBearters nodded slowly.\n\nDes continued, \"After we eat, we'll rest for a few minutes, then move out.\"\n\nAfter another two hours of travel, Des stopped and consulted his compass and GPS.\n\n\"There.\" He made a sweeping gesture, then pointed to the snow in front of him. \"Circle the Gliders and position them around that depression. Base camp will be in the center.\"\n\nJack pulled his Glider to the middle of the field; the rest made a haphazard ring around him.\n\nDes drove his Glider close to Jack's and stomped over to him. \"Come on, Jack, you can't park your Glider here!\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Jack retorted, looking at everything but Des. \"I don't see a 'no parking' sign.\"\n\n\"Because of the pop tents. When I sound the 'all clear,' you'll be right in the middle of the pop tents. Do you want a stake through your Glider?\"\n\nJack swung one leg over, but remained seated, rubbing his chin with his hand.\n\n\"Well now, that could be a problem. Let me think...oh yes, I see your point, the pop tents...hmmm.\" He jumped off his Glider. \"You're right, Des: I should move my Glider. But first, don't you think we should _unload_ the tents, since they are on my sled? That way, we don't have to drag them over here.\"\n\n\"Oh, well yes, you're right. Let's unload them first.\" Des wondered if he was more tired and stressed than the rest.\n\nOne couldn't see a pop tent \"pop\" except in slow motion. Powerful compressed gas cylinders neatly unfolded the tent and pushed the roof upwards. Then secondary gas canisters fired and snakes of rope with attached tent stakes would flail out. The stakes would thud mercilessly into the ground or ice...or into a dog...or a child\u2014which is why they were no longer sold to recreational campers. A safety measure had been added\u2014spaced along the ropes, sparklers would ignite to indicate their trajectory before ground contact. The main tent had half-meter stakes; the smaller ones, quarter-meter.\n\nStephen, Hans, Jack and Des pulled out the tents and positioned them; the main tent took all four men to move. They placed the six smaller tents in a semi-circle around the main tent. Mitch pulled out Baby Pop and put it near the rim of the depression as Jack drove his Glider to join the others in the outer ring.\n\n\"All clear!\" Des shouted. He set the radio transmitter for all three classes of tents and pushed the \"Go\" button.\n\nIt would take three minutes for the transmitter to send the exact series of waves to activate each of the tents. The entire team waited from their Gliders.\n\n\"I love to watch pop tents unfold,\" Mitch said. \"Like fireworks in the snow.\"\n\n\"Yeah, they are kind of neat,\" Des agreed.\n\nAccompanied by the sound of a fuse fizzling, the main tent folded out in several sections on the snow, then an earsplitting boom popped it into mid-air for what seemed to be a whole second; sparklers glowed brightly and streaked away in arcs. They heard the thudding of half-meter stakes smashing into the ice. The smaller tents began to pop and sparkle. Lastly, there was a _pluff_ and one small tent crackled to the ground.\n\nMitch retrieved the biological fermenting toilet from Des' sled, walked over to the Baby Pop, unzipped the flap and placed it inside. He got a twelve-pack of biodegradable toilet paper and a sign that read \"Lady\" on one side and \"Gentlemen\" on the other, returned to the tent, hung the sign with \"Gentlemen\" showing, disappeared inside and zipped closed the flap.\n\nEach of the smaller tents had a team member's first name printed in large, cursive letters, except for the one that read \"Doc and the Missus.\" The team scattered to stow their personal gear in their tents.\n\nAs they lugged equipment into the main tent, they found Jack already seated at a desk, typing busily; against the wall behind him was a tarp-covered box. Everyone but Jack helped to assemble the stove, brought in the tables, the chairs, a sofa, bottles of propane, food and the rest of the main tent's supplies; Kathy carefully laid out cooking utensils on a large kitchen table. When they were finished, everyone but Jack left the main tent to set up their own quarters. Jack had never even gotten up from his computer.\n\nJack uncovered and removed the radio from behind his desk and placed it next to his computer on the table. He toggled the \"on\" switch; a red light glowed brightly. He plugged in the microphone and fidgeted with the dials.\n\n\"This is Jack Squires of Alpha One, do you read me? This is Jack Squires calling Base. Do you read me?\"\n\nA voice cackled through the box. \"Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. I read you loud and clear.\"\n\n\"This is a test. Testing one, two, three.\" Jack moved a knob on the radio slightly. \"Two, two, three.\" He moved it further. \"Testing three, two, three, over.\"\n\n\"Jack, the second test is the best, over.\"\n\nJack pushed in the knob, locking it into place, turned off the radio, waited a few seconds, then turned it back on. The red light glowed, the needles moved\u2014all looked in good condition.\n\n\"This is Jack Squires of Alpha One. Test two. Test two, over.\"\n\nA voice cackled back. \"Test two loud and clear. Over.\"\n\n\"Thank you for your time and consideration. Out,\" Jack said.\n\nHe toggled the radio off-and-on a third time\u2014red light, needles centered, all in order. He turned off the toggle switch, then put the radio back behind his desk and pushed the tarp tightly around it.\n\nHe heard a loud crash and the sounds of an all-out brawl. He hurried outside to see what was going on.\n\nBehind the desk, under the tarp, a red light glowed because Jack had inadvertently flipped the toggle switch while tucking the tarp around the radio. The red light would glow brightly for fourteen days, then dimly for four more. On the nineteenth day, it would flicker and fade out.\n\nDes was ready to intercede in the melee if needed, but he thought both men needed to get this out of their systems.\n\nBearters rode Mitch's back with one arm around his neck. Mitch crashed sideways into anything he could find in an attempt to knock Bearters off, while yelling a string of expletives. He pitched Bearters against the tent of Doc and the Missus, then fell to the ground and rolled over until Bearters came loose.\n\nBoth men quickly jumped to their feet. Mitch grabbed the Inuit by the front of his coat with both hands and head-butted him hard in the face. Blood spurted in a shower from Bearters' nose. Dazed for only a moment, Bearters returned the punch with one of his own. Still holding onto Bearters' jacket with one hand, Mitch slugged him in the face as hard as he could. Bearters responded with an equally bruising blow, then delivered a brutal kick to Mitch's face, which sent him reeling to the ground.\n\n\"Had enough?\" Bearters circled Mitch, lying on the snow-covered ice. His nose bled on Mitch.\n\nMitch rolled backwards, pushed off the ice into a handstand and flipped up his legs, catching Bearters around his neck. Using the scissors hold, he pulled Bearters down and, once again, they exchanged blows.\n\nEventually their energy was spent, and they sat gasping for air, staring at each other. Both men were covered in blood.\n\n\"Had...enough?\" Mitch managed between breaths.\n\nBearters swung his right fist and hit Mitch squarely on the chin with all the force he could summon. Then his hands dropped to the ground, leaving his face a perfect open target.\n\nMitch started to laugh. It began as a giggle, but quickly rose to a hearty guffaw. Bearters soon joined in; their laughter filled the camp. Both men had been awake for more than thirty hours, and that stupid feeling of everything being funny was setting in. Bearters slapped Mitch on the shoulder and the two men rollicked with laughter as if that were the funniest thing on Earth. Mitch made a face at Bearters, who fell over backwards, laughing with tears.\n\nDes finally walked over to the two men.\n\n\"Show's over,\" he said. \"Everyone, go to bed.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 5\n\nELLESMERE ISLAND, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nDay 2; 1215 UTC, 6:15 AM LTD\n\nDes' alarm clock rang at 6:15; by 6:30, he was dressed and outside. He carried some audio equipment to the center of the individual tents and affixed a small microphone to the hood of his coat. He removed a CD from a velvet pouch and checked its handwritten label:\n\nThe Washington Post\n\nJohn Phillip Sousa\n\nCircus March\n\nHe turned on the player and rotated the volume knob to high. Holding a soundstick in each hand, he blew across the microphone; the soundsticks hummed.\n\n\"Kathy, Kathy Summers,\" his voice boomed, \"please come to a black paging telephone or the main expeditionary tent.\"\n\nHe started the CD, holding the soundsticks above his head, like a cheerleader finishing a cheer, and the legendary Marine Corps march began.\n\nAfter the cymbals clashed, Mitch stumbled out of his tent wearing only his long underwear\u2014no shoes, no hat. He had his hands pressed tightly to the sides of his face.\n\n_\"What the fuck...!\"_\n\nCymbals clashed again as flutes took the bridge.\n\n\"Please, Des, PLEASE.\"\n\nDes turned off the player. \"What's the matter, not up to Reveille? My, you look like you could use some more sleep. Well, no time for that. Breakfast in fifteen minutes.\"\n\nMitch couldn't stay to argue; his feet were turning white around the edges. He hurried back into his tent, still holding his head.\n\nKathy rushed past Des to the main tent, gripping her coat closed with one gloved hand.\n\n\"Coffee?\" she offered hoarsely when Des entered the main tent.\n\n\"Please.\"\n\nHe sat at the kitchen table while Kathy cooked bacon and mixed pancake batter. The others trickled in. Hans tried to pick a piece of bacon out of the pan but Kathy swatted his fingers with her spatula.\n\n\"Coffee or juice?\" she asked him.\n\n\"Juice, please.\"\n\nHans had a large book tucked under his arm. He sat on the couch and opened it; the book had one long, serious-looking Norwegian word at the top and a boat at the bottom.\n\nStephen poured his own juice and sat on the sofa opposite Hans' couch. The men had already staked out territories.\n\n\"So what's your book about?\" Stephen asked.\n\n\"It takes place a long time ago, when the Norwegians were excellent whalers. Whaling is a tough job, very tough job.\"\n\n\"So the book is about the whalers?\"\n\n\"Ja, the men, the boats, their equipment, the whole schmeer.\"\n\nBearters arrived looking none-the-worse for the beating. Des guessed it must be an Inuit tradition to hide wounds and not let their enemies know the damage they had sustained.\n\nHalfway through breakfast, Mitch scuffled stiffly into the tent. Kathy thrust a cup of coffee into his outstretched hand, then served him breakfast.\n\nDes was ready for action. \"Nice to see everyone up and alert.\" Bearters sat next to Mitch and whispered, \"We must get rid of that stereo.\" Mitch nodded.\n\nDes scowled, then unrolled a large geographic map onto the table.\n\n\"Now, we know the crevasse is west of here. We'll use the sextants to divide this area,\" he pointed to the map, \"into twenty-five separate pie-shaped pieces. Jack will feed the information into the onboard computers on Gliders One, Two, and Three. But, before we search the first area, we'll take the Gliders out on a general sweep, just because I'm feeling lucky today!\"\n\nIt was a golden opportunity for Mitch to make a quip, but he just ate his bacon.\n\nDes continued, \"Also, I have tent locks.\"\n\nEach tent had an attached floor, so it would be difficult to enter one without unzipping the front door flap. A tent lock wasn't foolproof, but would keep out the merely curious.\n\nMitch said to Bearters, \"I bet he's already got one on his tent.\"\n\nDes said, \"My tent lock is already in place.\"\n\nJack and Bearters each took one. Mitch looked at the key in Bearters' hand, and then at Bearters, who half-grinned and winked at him. Nobody else seemed to think locks would be necessary.\n\nThat evening, they gathered again in the main tent. Bearters and Mitch stretched out on the floor, their heads propped up by pillows. Jack typed, Kathy busied herself with after-dinner chores, and Hans read.\n\nDes concentrated on his charts and maps spread across the kitchen table, reflecting on what hadn't been accomplished. The day's activities had netted them only new dissatisfactions. Stephen's Glider had failed and had to be left on the ice. Bearters had complained that they were defacing a national treasure. Mitch had told Des that it seemed he was leading a joyride instead of initiating a search. Jack withdrew from the group even more than he had been. Through it all, Des managed to maintain a positive attitude, sure his outlook had built team morale.\n\nStephen kept reshuffling a deck of cards and the rhythmic sound drew Des' attention. Stephen was slapping the deck against the table and back-shuffling with a catchy beat. It reminded Des of when he'd played drums for the Colorado Symphony Orchestra; he'd always enjoyed percussion.\n\nLooking only at the backs of the cards, Stephen winged four aces out of the pack face up. He collected the cards and resumed the shuffling cadence, then four kings appeared.\n\n\"Poker?\" he asked Des.\n\n\"I doubt I'd be able to compete with you.\" Des grinned.\n\nStephen continued, \"Did you know that in Poker, four deuces wins over a full house\u2014aces high? It's just as good as four kings.\"\n\n\"I didn't know that,\" Des said.\n\n\"It does.\" Stephen reshuffled, then cut the cards. \"I'll wager you twenty bucks the next card is an ace.\"\n\nDes smiled. \"No bet. I believe you.\"\n\nStephen turned over the card\u2014it was the three of diamonds. \"You should've taken the bet.\"\n\nBearters opened a bottle of Russian vodka, swigged and passed it over to Mitch. Mitch drank, then handed back the bottle.\n\nHe said, \"So, Bearters, tell me something. Your name is unusual\u2014how did your folks come up with it?\"\n\nBearters drank again, then passed the bottle back to Mitch. \"They were caught up in the Canadian debate on French and English. My real name is Bear Trois\u2014Bear in English, Trois in French. Three Bears.\"\n\nDes delivered a preemptive glare at Mitch, anticipating that he would say something to incite Bearters, like \"Oh, I had your sister, Goldilocks. She was hot.\"\n\nBut what Mitch actually said was: \"Three Bears, now that's a nice name. I like that name. I wish my mom had been so thoughtful.\"\n\nDes was relieved. Perhaps their fight had resulted in peace between the two men.\n\nDes saw Bearters hold out something shiny to Mitch. It was a tent key with filed-down sides; only the tip was whole. Des could see that the key had been filed. When the two men laughed, he knew Mitch would abscond with his soundsticks if he had the chance. Des would need to hide his sound-system elsewhere.\n\nThe cavernous rent in the snow was ten miles to the east of their base camp. The ovoid lip of the fissure was elevated; mounded above the surrounding landscape was a circular, cylinder of densely packed ice two meters high. Its smooth surface glistened in the fog. Inside the chasm, past the surface snow, the vertical walls were coated with ice two meters thick. The ice grew gradually thicker further down; at three thousand meters from the surface, the walls were four meters thick. It was there that the ice stopped abruptly; steep, sheer walls of granite continued into a black abyss. Steam belched from somewhere below and as it ascended the tube, it crystallized on the walls, forming more ice. The steam came in waves, rhythmically, as if caused by the breathing of some gigantic creature. From deep within, slithering sounds also emanated upward.\n\nSince they were searching west of base camp, the team would not find the vent for twenty-four more days.\n\nOn the third morning of their expedition, at precisely 6:30 am, Des pushed the CD into the player and thrust the soundsticks high over his head. When the music boomed out, Kathy hurried past Des and Mitch muttered obscenities loudly from inside his tent. A new day had begun.\n\n\"Today we are going to begin our search in earnest,\" Des announced when the team had assembled for breakfast in the main tent.\n\n\"Who the hell is Ernest?\" Mitch said to Bearters.\n\nDes ignored him. \"We've finished dividing the search area. I've written a number from one to twenty-five on each of these folded pieces of paper. Let's draw to see which area to search first.\"\n\nHe placed the papers into a baseball cap and held it up.\n\nBearters finished eating and slapped Mitch on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow. They dropped off their plates in the sink and left before a number was drawn.\n\nDes didn't seem to notice. \"Kathy, give it a try. Pick a good one.\"\n\nKathy pulled out a slip and handed it to him.\n\n\"Twenty-seven,\" he announced, then laughed. \"Of _course_ , it's not _twenty-seven._ There are only twenty-five. Seven, I meant seven.\"\n\nThere was a sudden bang from nearby outside; it sounded like a gunshot.\n\n\"Who's outside?\" Des asked with dread.\n\n\"Mitch and Bearters left a few minutes ago,\" Kathy said shakily.\n\nThey heard two more gunshots in rapid succession. All the remaining men bolted for the tent door and piled out.\n\nMitch's voice drifted out of the fog: \"You son-of-a-bitch! You couldn't hit the side of a fucking barn door!\"\n\nAgain, a shot rang out and everyone started running towards the sound. There was one more shot as they approached, followed by the tinkling of glass.\n\n\"That's how you fuckin' shoot,\" Mitch said. He was holding a pistol pointed toward an empty, broken vodka bottle twenty meters away.\n\n\"Mitch!\" Des yelled. It was illegal for foreigners to fire weapons in Nunavut territory without a permit, and Mitch didn't have one.\n\nMitch quickly shoved the gun into Bearters' hand and smirked. \"Oh, hi, guys. Just settling a bet. Hope we didn't disturb anyone.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 6\n\nNEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK\n\nLATITUDE 40\u00b0 43' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 74\u00b0 1' WEST\n\nDay 15; 1245 UTC, 8:45 AM LTD\n\nJohn Severin carefully arranged the confidential sets of building plans on the elongated table, peering beyond the glass wall into the hallway where architects gathered. He pushed back his red hair as he rechecked each set to ensure all were complete. When finished, he looked from the forty-seventh floor window of the Empire State Building at the traffic gridlocked below. It was going to be a long day. Barrington Industries couldn't begin the memorial tower construction phase until the architects agreed\u2014and, so far, they had not. He'd been mandated to break the impasse.\n\nA telephone rang; a red light glowed on the phone in the corner\u2014fifteen minutes too early.\n\n\"John? Is that you, John?\" Henry Barrington's voice sounded disturbed.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"John, my son...is missing.\"\n\nJohn knew that Henry meant abducted, but Henry's son was forty-two years old and single; he could afford to be anywhere. \"Are you sure? Have you received a note or any demands?\"\n\n\"No, but John, he's alive. I _sense_ he is alive.\" The voice gained strength. \"I want you to find him. Take Amy with you; she'll know what to do. Keep the local law enforcement out of it. I want this whole operation kept secret; I don't want it to be traced back to me. Go undercover, take ransom money...pay them.\"\n\n\"I won't need Amy,\" John interrupted.\n\nHe'd work with Amy, but not travel with her. He wouldn't tolerate her at such close quarters again. Amy was attractive and John had thought about her often\u2014until Barrington Industries' gala summer party.\n\nHe had walked fourteen blocks from the Waldorf-Astoria to Central Park enjoying a smoke. In the fading sunlight, he'd wandered through luxurious gardens into an area of dense foliage. He hadn't recognized Amy's diminutive and shapely figure until he was close enough to see her hand-in-hand with another woman.\n\nThen while John had watched, Amy kissed the other woman passionately.\n\nHe'd been appalled. He had never witnessed lesbians kissing.\n\nAs they'd finished, Amy's dark eyes had locked onto his. Instead of being embarrassed, she'd held the other woman's waist tightly and said to John, \"Envious? Or don't you enjoy candy kisses?\"\n\nHe could still hear their laughter as he hurried away.\n\nThat had just been the first time. Amy was openly gay, and John's dislike for her had grown due to her perverted promiscuity. Over the next year, he had seen her kiss several different women; he felt Amy was goading him, seeking him out to show off each new conquest. He'd eventually called her on it and she had slugged him. By then, he loathed the sight of her.\n\n\"Dammit, John. Are you listening to me?\" Henry said through the phone.\n\n\"I'm here. I'll find George. I won't need Amy,\" he repeated with defiance.\n\n\"Look, if there's any violence, I know I can trust you to get my son through it; that's why I chose you to be in charge of company security.\" Henry's gravelly voice was insistent. \"But Amy is organized and competent. Forget about her sexual preferences! She's the best for coordinating a search if necessary. Get the job done together for me\u2014and, John, top priority\u2014do it now. Bring my son back.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, I understand. Please fax me the particulars.\" This wasn't something to risk to company e-mail.\n\n\"Sending now.\"\n\n\"I'll get back to you in fifteen minutes,\" John said.\n\nHe looked through the interior glass at the growing crowd of arrivals while the fax machine purred. Henry was usually right when he sensed something\u2014no, Henry was always correct. That's why he'd been so successful. What if the senator's son _had_ actually been kidnapped? If he were in the wrong hands, those holding him could demand plenty\u2014or worse, not ask at all.\n\nJohn saw Amy arrive from her office. She was a smartly dressed woman with short-cropped auburn hair, holding a clipboard in one arm while directing with the other. The thought of going anywhere with her was revolting, but John would do as Henry had asked. He called her in.\n\n\"We have a problem,\" he said, closing the door behind her.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"George Barrington is missing. The old man thinks he's been snatched. We need to get on this right away.\"\n\nAmy pivoted back through the door, then John heard her announce, \"This meeting has been canceled. You will be paid for your time. As soon as I have a new schedule, I'll let you know.\"\n\nShe reentered and shut the door tightly.\n\n\"Where and when was George last seen?\" she asked John.\n\n\"Henry didn't say, but it'll be in the fax. He wants this kept under wraps. If it's an abduction, he's willing to pay.\" John read the fax. \"His last verifiable location was at Lake Mackay. He was dropped off there with an outfitter for an Outback excursion. Their destination was Alice Springs, but they're five days overdue.\"\n\n\"Where is Lake Mackay?\" Amy asked.\n\nJohn sighed, underwhelmed by the prospect of going there with Amy. \"Australia.\"\n\nALICE SPRINGS, AUSTRALIA\n\nLATITUDE 23\u00b0 42' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE 133\u00b0 53' EAST\n\nDay 17; 0915 UTC, 6:45 PM LTD\n\nAfter a sixteen-hour flight and their subsequent procurement of three Land Rovers, Amy pulled the lead Rover to a stop in front of The Territory Inn.\n\nShe and John entered the hotel, followed by Amy's search team.\n\n\"Luggage,\" Amy said curtly to a bellboy, handing him the Rover's keys.\n\nShe didn't wait for the man working at the front desk's computer monitor to acknowledge her, but rang the small bell twice.\n\n\"Do you have a reservation for George Barrington?\" John asked when the clerk looked up.\n\n\"Let me see,\" the clerk said, returning his gaze to his monitor. \"Nothing for today...here it is. You're late; I'm afraid that the Barrington reservation has been canceled.\"\n\n\"Who canceled it?\" Amy asked.\n\n\"The hotel. We have a very generous forty-eight-hour grace period; after that, you're considered a no-show and lose your deposit and reservation,\" the clerk explained.\n\nJohn handed over his American passport. \"I am not George Barrington. I believe we do have a current reservation. I'm John Smith and this is my sister, Amy.\"\n\nAt that moment, sister Amy was looking at a young brunette seated in the foyer; the woman blushed, but stared back. Next to her, a teenage girl was chatting on her cellphone. The teenager brushed back her long, blond hair, then closed her phone.\n\n\"Brother John,\" Amy nudged him playfully until his eyes followed hers. \"I think I've found us a double-date.\"\n\n\"Oh, gawd,\" he said.\n\nJust before dawn, two men climbed out through a window of the hotel's top floor and onto the roof, where they attached a thin, silvery antenna.\n\nJohn tuned on the shortwave radio in his room while Amy sat rigidly on the bed. He checked his watch; it was on the hour.\n\n\"This is Base calling Ranger One. Ranger One, do you copy?\"\n\nThere was a short pause, then: \"This is Ranger One to Base. I copy loud and clear. Over.\"\n\n\"What's your situation?\"\n\n\"The helicopter dropped us off near Lake Mackay four hours ago. We have three guides, Aborigines; they located a camp where two men stayed overnight maybe three weeks ago. They picked up the track, and we're on it. From what they say, we're nine days away from you\u2014maybe eight, if we push it. Over.\"\n\n\"Then push it. Out.\"\n\n\"We need to keep the contents of this briefcase safe. Can we count on you?\" Amy said to the bank manager, Aaron Cummings.\n\nJohn placed the case on the fat man's desk, opened the locks, then turned it around to reveal the stacks of gold Kruggerands and the photographs which lay on top of them.\n\n\"Of course I can. This is a bank.\" Cummings extracted one of the coins with pudgy fingers and peered at it through his spectacles.\n\n\"Good,\" Amy said, handing one of the pictures to him. \"We are looking for this man. He is overdue from an Outback excursion. There is a substantial reward for his safe return.\"\n\nThe manager leaned back in his chair, his necktie and silk shirt undulating over rolls of skin hiding his waist. His eyes shifted from the coin to the photo and back to the stacks of Kruggerands.\n\n\"Did he have a guide?\" Cummings asked her.\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied, \"a man named Sed, who operates out of Perth under the name Aboriginal Expeditions. They were dropped at Lake Mackay three weeks ago. Their destination was Alice Springs.\"\n\nCummings nodded. \"I know Sed. He comes to The Alice about fifteen times a year as a guide for the rich and famous. He has a shack out in the desert where he stays while his customers are wined and dined here in town. He's done the trek you're talking about dozens of times, and he's consistent in his route, just in case there is a problem. It's odd...three weeks, you say?\"\n\nHe retrieved a large topographical map and unrolled it on the desktop. \"Here is Lake Mackay. Here is Alice Springs.\" His fat finger traced a line between them. \"In two weeks, they should have been here.\" He tapped the map. \"Here, in the Ranges. Three weeks...that is strange.\"\n\nAmy leaned over and studied the map, which indicated a sharp drop in elevation where the manager pointed.\n\n\"Where is the shack?\" she asked.\n\n\"What shack? Oh, you mean Sed's.\"\n\nAn hour later, John pried the crowbar into the mortise around the front door of Sed's cabin and the door swung open with a crack.\n\nAmy peered inside, then entered, followed by John.\n\nIt was a fairly comfortable-looking abode\u2014four propane lanterns hung from rafters in the two rooms; the walls were plastered with posters of past and present movie stars. An antique, four-post log bed filled the smaller room. A kitchen counter split the remaining five hundred square feet and was lined with milk jugs containing water. A rickety wooden table and chairs were on the other side of the counter. Amy opened the refrigerator, then removed two beers, opened one and tossed the other to John when he returned from the adjoining bedroom.\n\n\"Nobody's been home for quite awhile,\" she observed, running her finger through the accumulated dust on the table.\n\n\"Dead end,\" John muttered.\n\n\"Not necessarily.\" Amy sipped her beer. \"Tell the others we are now looking for two men, George and his guide, a black man named Sed, and they are probably still in the Outback.\"\n\nMACDONNELL RANGES\n\nWEST OF ALICE SPRINGS, AUSTRALIA\n\nLATITUDE: 23\u00b0 42' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE: 133\u00b0 51' EAST\n\nDay 26; 0160 UTC, 11:10 AM LTD\n\n\"Washout ahead,\" Joe told John as he stuck his head through the open passenger window of Amy's stopped Land Rover. The search team leader had a broad Australian accent.\n\nHis team had canvassed the rough terrain for over a week, crisscrossing the trails that George and Sed might have taken. They'd begun their search on foot, but as the area had expanded, they now used the Rovers.\n\nAmy shrugged and turned off the ignition. \"Shall we go look?\" she asked John.\n\nJoe stepped back and lit a cigarette as John and Amy got out to assess the road.\n\nThe narrowed gravel roadway ahead seemed only half-a-Rover wide. The washed-out section was only fifteen meters long, but had a sheer drop of several hundred meters on the right side; on the left side, a steep wall climbed thirty meters. Past the washout, the road once again became wide enough for the Rovers.\n\nJohn unfolded his map. \"The trail is ahead of us and below.\" He whistled softly. \"It's a long way around. Best we try again tomorrow from a different direction.\"\n\n\"No,\" Amy said. \"The trackers from Lake Mackay should arrive today.\"\n\nWithout waiting for a response, she climbed back into the lead Rover and gunned the engine. The seatbelt alarm buzzed until she snapped the belt closed beneath her.\n\nWhen John motioned for her to roll down her window, she tossed him the rental agreement from the Rover's glove box.\n\n\"You're not thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking, are you?\" he asked.\n\n\"Worth a try,\" she said with a faint smile.\n\n\"Joe,\" John shouted, \"get out of the way! Amy's going across.\"\n\nJoe hurried towards them. \"She's what?\"\n\nAmy steered the right-hand drive Rover to her left and crawled forward, deliberately grinding into the cliff wall. Carefully, she inched the Rover along; there was a pop as the left rear-view mirror disintegrated, then a sickening sound as the rock wall ripped at the car's metal body. She kept steering to the left; on the driver's side, the tires hung precariously over the edge with only the inner tread in contact with the road. The crumpled metal began to twist and curl; the grating sound grew louder.\n\nHalfway across the washout, the tires on the right lost their grip entirely and the Rover slipped sideways, hanging precariously by the inner edges of the left tires on the brink, its undercarriage bottomed out.\n\n\"That method doesn't look like an option,\" Joe observed dryly to John. \"At least we can still back the other one out of here.\"\n\nAmy calmly opened the passenger-side door, carefully climbed out of what was now a hatch and walked back to the men.\n\nJohn told her, \"You might be right. This could work.\"\n\n\"What could work?\" Joe asked. Then he paled. \"Oh no, no-no-no. Do you know how far it is to walk out of here? Hey, come on...no.\"\n\nAmy ignored him and got into the second Rover with John. She started it, then gunned the engine.\n\nJoe waved frantically at them as Amy floored the accelerator and released the clutch. The rear wheels spun, the Rover roared forward over the left side of the first Rover which functioned as additional road width. Amy bumped across to the other side, then hit the brakes hard.\n\nJostled from its perch, the first Rover plunged down the cliff, rolling and crashing as it tumbled to the bottom, landing on its roof.\n\nAmy walked back to Joe, who was clearly disturbed.\n\n\"You can't do that!\" he sputtered. \"You can't roll Rovers off the sides of mountains and leave them. It's not done...it's simply not done!\"\n\nAmy looked at him passively. \"Do you want to come with us...or would you prefer to walk back to town?\"\n\nAmy lurched her Rover down the mountain road for the next two hours. When she stopped, John radioed the trackers while Amy scouted for the trail, pushing back brambles, then hoisting herself up a scramble.\n\nThe trackers weren't far away. They'd found no sign of George, but they were still on the trail. John said they would wait for them and signed off.\n\nAmy called to him from the bush, \"I think you better have a look at this.\"\n\nHe climbed up next to her as she peered into a deep, black fissure.\n\n\"There are footprints on the other side,\" she said. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 7\n\nELLESMERE ISLAND, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\n_Day 28_\n\n1220 UTC, 6:20 AM LTD\n\nNear the end of Boster Denton Expedition \"Ice-Pick\"\n\nMitch and Jack had found the abyss; everyone was relieved they were finally moving toward their goal.\n\nKathy was packing sandwiches, cans of soda and potato chips into front-packs.\n\nShe told Des, \"Something special for a special day. Jack and Hans already ate breakfast and left; they were pretty excited. They're setting up the equipment right now.\"\n\nStephen said, \"Jack's GPS differed from yours, so the base camp is twenty-five kilometers from where it should be. If you had been using Jack's GPS, it would've been a simple matter to find it.\"\n\nDes nodded.\n\nMitch said, \"Yup, when Jack said we were searching in the wrong direction, we took the Gliders east and fucking near drove into the thing. Hans said we should bring parachutes because the chasm's at least a kilometer straight down.\"\n\n\"Why wasn't I informed earlier?\" Des asked him.\n\n\"No need.\"\n\n\"Yes, there was a need. I want you to take out a Glider and bring the others back. We'll plan out the exploration here.\" Des felt his tenuous grip on leadership slipping even further. He knew he needed to assert himself before it got any worse.\n\n\"You've got to be kidding!\" Mitch's jaw dropped.\n\n\"No, I'm not kidding. Look, we're dealing with unknown factors, so we need to work through contingencies. I'm responsible for everyone's safety and I'm not going to let excitement interfere with proper planning. Bring them back.\"\n\nStephen said softly, \"Des, you are absolutely correct: You should have been told as soon as the discovery had been made. No one wishes to undermine your authority, but there's a time factor to consider. Now that Hans and Jack are out there, what harm would be done if we glide on over and take a peek? You could survey the surface and maybe a short descent into the interior to give you a better idea of what we're dealing with and what contingencies need to be discussed. A little look-see today and an all-out exploration tomorrow would leave us with one day to pack for our ride home.\"\n\nDes contemplated so long that Mitch sighed in resignation. \"Fine. I'll go get them.\"\n\nDes said, \"Wait! I'll go with you. Stephen's right.\"\n\nIt was the first time they had let the Gliders run full-bore in the fog. Mitch checked his speedometer\u2014fifty miles-per-hour. He thought Des was driving a little carelessly, but gunned his engine to catch up with him. It took them twelve minutes to reach the abyss.\n\nJack was working on his computer and carrying out soundings. For the latter, he'd pull a tab on a small globe to start it chirping, then toss it into the chasm and track the globe on his computer, recording course and depth. Steam rolled over the glassy lip behind him to briefly envelope the monitor.\n\n\"Look at this.\" Jack indicated the numbers to Mitch and Des. \"I can track the bird sixteen kilometers before I lose it\u2014sixteen kilometers straight down! That's almost twice as deep as Everest is tall!\"\n\nHans climbed out of the far side of the chasm near a fully assembled Climber's Buddy. The Buddy had four legs and was attached to the ice with stakes and four steel cables. Above the legs was a 55-gallon steel drum. Cable snaked from the drum, past the motor, brakes and computer, up to an arm almost a meter in length that could be pushed out over the edge. A climber could hang in a suspended harness or walk up a vertical wall while the Buddy's arm kept the cable taut above him. Directly opposite was a second Buddy, next to Jack, hanging over the lip of the crevasse; it was also fastened to the ice with cables and stakes.\n\nHans made a thumbs-up\u2014the Buddies were good to go.\n\n\"Did you remember the chutes?\" he called as he walked over to them. Grinning, Mitch held up one in each hand.\n\nHans asked him, \"Do you know what a ripcord is?\"\n\nMitch nodded.\n\n\"Do you know how to open it?\" Des asked Mitch.\n\nMitch put on one of the parachutes and started to pull the ring, but Des stopped him.\n\nDes decreed that Hans would stay topside to supervise the descent because he was the only one capable of operating the Buddies, but Hans would need to train Mitch before the all-out exploration tomorrow when Des and Hans would descend. Jack could track their location via their beacons.\n\nHans said, \"OK, Des, put on the other chute. Both of you wear front-packs with food and water. If you need to use the chutes, we want to find you alive. Crampons on too\u2014it's sheer ice, at least to start. Flashlights, specimen bags...\" He continued through his checklist.\n\nWhen they had on their helmets, Hans made sure the communications functioned. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\nMitch and Des replied \"Yes\" in unison.\n\nHans corrected them. \"No, Des is in charge in the cave, so he responds first; then you, Mitch. Try it again. Do you hear me?\"\n\nDes said, \"Yes.\"\n\nMitch followed with, \"Roger.\"\n\n\"Switch on your headlamps.\" Both complied, both lamps lit. \"OK, turn off your lights and remove your helmets. The Buddies are ready. Mitch, you go down here; Des, you're on the far side. I'll help each of you start. Keep an eye on each other and descend together. I've been down a thousand meters and it's all good ice\u2014strong walls, no chatter, nothing loose. Good luck, and God be with you.\"\n\nJack threw in a chirping globe and typed vigorously, while Hans checked the climbers' nylon harnesses. \"OK, Mitch, rope-up here, while I take Des over to the far side. Don't start until I get back.\"\n\nMitch watched as Des and Hans walked around the rim. At the other Buddy, Hans fastened Des to the rope and the rope to the cable. He set the computer to feed out the cable slowly to one thousand meters. His headlamp lit, Des swung out over the lip. Hans belayed him down until the rope played out, then pushed the start button. Des began to descend slowly.\n\nHis Buddy suspended Mitch over the abyss; his feet were planted on the rim. It wasn't as scary as parachuting because he was anchored, but he was still nervous. He turned on his headlamp, and nodded to Hans.\n\nHans set the computer, checked Mitch's connections, then hit the start button and Mitch followed Des downward.\n\n\"Hey, Des, nothing but ice,\" Mitch said into his helmet mike.\n\n\"Roger\" came through the speakers.\n\nMitch shone his flashlight down into the void and caught a glimpse of Des' headlamp through billowing steam.\n\n\"What the fuck's up with all this steam?\" he asked.\n\n\"It means it's not all ice. There's something warmer below.\"\n\nWhen they had reached a thousand meters, Mitch heard Des ask Hans to set his Buddy for two thousand meters.\n\nHans told them, \"Remember, if you want to get a better look at something, you can command your Buddy to stop with the remote switch. It's the red button on the right side of your harness.\"\n\nWatching Des descending across from him, Mitch said, \"Well, before I can stop, I gotta start.\"\n\n\"I'm trying,\" Hans replied, his breathing through Mitch's headset sounding labored.\n\nMitch finally started downward again.\n\nDes said, \"Hans, are Stephen and Bearters with you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Where are they?\"\n\nNo reply.\n\nMitch began to sing, \"Mary had a little lamb...\" but stopped abruptly. \"Hey, this is fucking spooky.\" He kicked the ice wall, then turned on his flashlight. \"Des, where are you?\"\n\n\"Down here. I'll shine my light at you.\"\n\nMitch looked down and saw flickering light through spasms of steam.\n\nWhen they were at two thousand meters, Hans said, \"Gentlemen, I think we should call it a day, at least until the others arrive.\"\n\n\"Fuck no, Hans, three thousand. Then we can call it a day,\" Mitch replied.\n\n\"Des?\"\n\n\"Roger. Three thousand.\"\n\n\"OK, I'm starting Mitch first.\"\n\nWhen both men were moving, Hans said, \"Snow Gliders are coming\u2014when they arrive, I'll get Stephen to help with one of the Buddies. I'm tired of running back and forth.\"\n\n\"Roger that,\" Des said.\n\nMitch faced Des on a shelf of ice at three thousand meters below ground level. The shelf extended two and a half meters away from the wall and encircled the entire cave. It wasn't level; the shelf sloped down at a 45\u00b0 angle towards the central abyss.\n\nMitch saw Des lean out over the edge and point his light down, then he heard a sudden rushing sound. Steam rolled up the chasm. There was a whoosh as another of Jack's chirping sensors passed them as it whizzed into the darkness; the sound faded out of range.\n\nDes said, \"Tell Jack not to throw any more birds while we're down here!\"\n\n\"Sure thing, Des.\"\n\nDes aimed his lights under the ice ledge, then announced, \"There's bare rock underneath that looks like granite. On Mitch's side, there's also a kind of greenish rock that glows a little. Mitch, I'm going down. You can wait here if you like.\"\n\nHans cut in. \"Stay together and stay put. I need to talk with Stephen, so I'm going to be taking my helmet off.\"\n\n\"Roger,\" Des said. \"How long will communications be broken?\"\n\n\"Not long. Stephen is standing next to me. I'll walk him over to Mitch's Buddy and teach him how to use the computer, then I'll run just yours. Stay put.\"\n\n\"That's no fucking fun,\" Mitch replied. He kicked, testing the wall with his crampons.\n\nA few minutes later, Hans said, \"Everything OK?\"\n\n\"Bored to tears,\" Mitch responded.\n\nDes said, \"Can you play out about twenty or thirty meters, just enough to get me over this ice rim and down to the rock?\"\n\nAfter a short delay, Hans replied, \"OK, but I'll have to start you first, then give me a few seconds, and I'll start Mitch.\"\n\n\"I thought Stephen was helping,\" Des said.\n\n\"He is. He doesn't know that command.\"\n\nDes started to descend, and Mitch was soon following on his side. When his cable stopped, Mitch was hanging one and a half meters away from the granite wall. He started swinging until he could grab onto the rock with his hands and feet. The wall was rough so he held on firmly.\n\n\"Now what?\" he asked.\n\nDes' light flashed past Mitch, then settled just to his right. \"There. Do you see that...next to you...that bluish-green rock?\"\n\nMitch looked at an elongated finger of green rock encased in the granite. He'd never seen anything like it before. Unsnapping his rock hammer from his belt, he used the claw to cut into the green rock twice, levering out a piece about fifteen centimeters long. He studied it briefly; it glowed brighter, and Mitch had a brief sensation that it wiggled while he was putting it into a specimen bag. He tucked the bag in a zippered pocket of his pack.\n\n\"Something is very strange about that rock. I chopped off a good sample, so when we get topside, we'll need to analyze it closely. What's next?\"\n\nHe looked back at the spot where he'd cleaved green rock, but the rest of it was no longer there. Startled, he searched the wall around him with his lights. \"Where the fuck...\"\n\nDes' lights arced past him.\n\n\"There's something...alive down here!\" Des gasped.\n\nMitch played his lights feverishly up and down the rock wall, then he heard a loud pop through his helmet's speaker.\n\n\"Hans? What the fuck are you doing?\"\n\n\"That wasn't me. Des, did you hear that?\"\n\nWhen he didn't reply, Mitch said, \"Des? Put your little ears on.\"\n\nHe turned the beam of his flashlight to Des and saw his friend swinging away from the wall with his head twisted down and to one side, his headlamp and flashlight carving slow arcs in the dark void below him.\n\n\"Ah, shit, Des, come on, stop fucking around.\" Mitch suppressed the thought that this kind of practical joke was totally unlike Des.\n\nThen he saw something unwrap from around Des' body: a rope-like form raced toward the granite wall. Mitch followed it with the beam of his light and saw a huge green mass with octopus-like tentacles and two beady eyes lying against the rock wall not twenty meters away from him, steam issuing from its head. A tentacle began to move.\n\nWith a rush of adrenaline, Mitch quickly turned off both his lights and climbed upward and to his left and immediately heard a thud on the wall to his right. He nearly lost control of his bladder, and he did lose his grip on the rock hammer. As the hammer clanged off the walls below, he edged further to his left then looked over his shoulder.\n\nDes' lights were swinging below him on the far side. The end of a long tentacle was wrapping and unwrapping around Des' limbs and waist.\n\n\"Turn off your lights, Des! It can't see in the dark,\" Mitch said quickly.\n\nHe thought Des lifted his head momentarily, but he didn't otherwise move.\n\n\"Hans, we have a problem,\" Mitch said removing an ice axe from his belt. \"When I say go, I want you to lift me as fast as you can. Do you copy?\"\n\n\"What's the problem?\" Hans replied.\n\n\"No time for details. I have to get Des past the ice outcropping without ramming his head into it. He's unconscious.\"\n\n\"Unconscious? What do you mean?\"\n\nMitch took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, although he felt like screaming. \"Just pull me up fifty meters when I say go.\"\n\n\"Stephen, get ready to pull Mitch up fast. Fifty meters,\" he heard Hans yell.\n\nMitch quickly flashed his light to his right, then pulled another ice axe from his belt. With an axe in each hand and the lit flashlight held between his teeth, he jumped off the wall, trying to hold the beam of his flashlight on the creature.\n\n_\"Go, go, go!\"_\n\nMitch started to descend at breakneck speed. He pounded at the red stop switch on his harness and shouted, \"I'm going _down!\"_\n\nHans yelled, \"Stephen, stop!\"\n\nWhen Mitch was stopped, he saw a tentacle coming right at him. There was nothing he could do, so he dropped his flashlight and prepared to defend himself with both axes.\n\nSuddenly, he started moving up fast. He switched on his headlamp just in time to see the approaching ice ledge. He swung his axes and caught the rim, pushing himself away as he passed it.\n\nBut the creature was faster.\n\nMitch was thirty meters above the ledge when a razor-sharp claw sliced cleanly through his rope five meters above his head. As he fell past the ledge, he swung out with his ice axes and caught the rim. He turned off his light, then grabbed for the embedded axe again and hung by his hands, his feet dangling over the void.\n\nHe managed to pull himself up using the axes, and climbed onto the ledge where his crampons could find a perch. Mitch knew the severed end of the rope was hanging somewhere above his head, but it would be useless without a carabiner on its end.\n\nAs soon as he could summon up enough spit to speak again, he said, \"Hans, reel in my cable. I need a new rope.\"\n\n\"I don't know if we have one. I'll go look,\" Hans replied.\n\n\"You better fucking hurry. There's something down here and it's pulling Des apart!\"\n\nHans shrieked, \"Get the stake gun!\" His voice wavered like he was running. \"Mitch, Des' Buddy is shaking. We need to anchor it more firmly. What's going on?\"\n\n\"The thing is pulling.\" Mitch seriously needed this to be a hallucination.\n\nHans shouted, \"Bearters, not here\u2014over there! Fire two stakes at forty meters and two more at sixty meters, and spread them out.\"\n\nMitch heard four sharp cracks of the gun through his headset. There was a commotion up above, but he had enough to deal with where he was. He started picking his way around to Des' side of the chasm using ice axes and crampons.\n\nHe told Hans, \"I need that fucking rope!\"\n\n\"Ja, I know!\"\n\nThere was more yelling from above, but Mitch couldn't make out specific words. There was a loud crackle in his helmet, followed by a louder boom.\n\nHans screamed, \"Oh, God! Look out!\"\n\nMitch looked toward Des, but saw only two lights falling away from him.\n\n\"Des,\" he screamed, \"open the fucking 'chute!\"\n\nThere was a white puff, then Des was gone.\n\n_At least he opened his 'chute; I saw it, I know it._ Mitch focused on that, repeating it in his head like a mantra.\n\nHe heard clanging against the ice walls above him\u2014clanging and whizzing. He turned on his headlamp and looked up.\n\nDes' Climbing Buddy and eight razor-sharp stakes were heading straight towards him.\n\nMitch flattened himself against the ice and covered his helmeted head with his arm as the falling Buddy slammed into the wall just above him, then careened towards the opposite side, followed by the first five stakes.\n\nThe sixth stake hit him.\n\nIf Mitch had been wearing Tevlar, the stake would have plunged deeply into his back, but the thick hide of his fur coat proved harder to penetrate. Although the stake ripped his coat almost in half, he was only scratched. However, the seventh stake sank deeply into his calf, tearing away flesh as it was yanked out by the weight of the Buddy. Mitch howled from the pain.\n\nHand over hand, crampon over crampon, he began to pull himself up as the eighth stake whizzed past him. He turned off his headlamp and saw only a small gray ellipse above. He heard Hans frantically yelling through his headset, but didn't know what he was saying. As he felt the cold seep into his back, his mind went as numb as his injured leg. He knew only that he must climb. His hands grew stiffer with each thrust upward.\n\nWhen he finally emerged over the lip, gasping, he was pulled out and onto the ice. He groaned with sheer exhaustion.\n\n\"What happened?\" Hans demanded. It was he who had pulled Mitch up.\n\nStephen hurried over with his doctor's bag and checked Mitch's wounded leg, disinfecting and wrapping it snugly with gauze bandages.\n\n\"You'll need stitches when we get back to camp.\"\n\nMitch ignored him and limped over to Jack, who was tracking Des' Finder via computer.\n\n\"Where's Des?\"\n\n\"He's still in free-fall, for all I know. I lost his beacon at fifty kilometers, traveling at terminal velocity.\"\n\n\"But I saw his fucking 'chute open!\" Mitch grabbed Jack's arm and his laptop clattered to the ice.\n\n\"Don't you touch me!\"\n\nJack picked up his computer, carried it to his Glider and left.\n\n\"Des brought a two-way radio on the mission,\" Stephen told Mitch.\n\n\"And where would that be?\"\n\n\"In the main tent somewhere. Jack knows where it is.\"\n\nMitch limped to his Glider and took off after Jack.\n\nJack already had the radio out on his computer desk when Mitch stormed into the main tent.\n\n\"Give me that!\"\n\nJack handed Mitch the microphone.\n\nHe flipped the switch. \"We have a fucking Mayday! We have a fucking Mayday!\"\n\nThere was no reply. Mitch fidgeted at random with the dials.\n\nJack said, \"You've got the switch the wrong way; the radio's still off. Flip it to 'On.'\"\n\nMitch toggled the switch, then repeated his call for help.\n\nHe roared, \"Who checked the fucking radio?\"\n\nBearters and Stephen rushed in.\n\nStephen said, \"It must be dead. Are there any other batteries?\"\n\n\"You don't need fucking batteries for a fucking radio! They're all fucking SSPS.\"\n\nJack said, \"Well, this radio _does_ , but no, there are no spares.\"\n\n\"Fuck!\" Mitch slammed the microphone into the edge of the table, shattering it into bits. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 8\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 11' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 78\u00b0 0' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 69%\n\nDay 30; 2130 UTC, 3:30 PM LTD\n\nDes had been unconscious for nearly two days when the swelling in his brain began to subside. He thought he tasted orange marmalade in his dry mouth and felt the sensation of wind around his body, but he still could not see. What had Mitch said? It was \"fuck\" something, \"open the fucking\u2014\" what? Eyes? Parachute? Mind? What was he supposed to do?\n\nThe gale surrounding him settled and was replaced with the feeling of being suspended mid-air. He was blown sideways by a gust and fell very slowly topsy-turvy, then landed hard on stone.\n\nThe wind stopped.\n\nHe was bombarded by a constellation of aches and pains. He knew he was badly injured and wondered what bones might be broken. His shoulders ached, his legs were numb, and his chest felt bruised and bloated. He struggled to breathe evenly and thought he was going to die.\n\nHe moved his fingers, then wiggled his toes. His mind was detached, but his body was still connected. His head pounding, he lay motionless, trying to regain some equilibrium. Which way was up? Forget the pain. Think! He had been talking with Mitch\u2014climbing with Mitch. He must have fallen. Why would he fall? Something else in the cave. He heard a slithering sound nearby.\n\n_The lights\u2014turn off the lights._\n\nDes felt the end of his flashlight and his headlamp\u2014they were both warm. He fumbled with the switch on his headlamp and flicked it off. He groped down the flashlight's cord until he found its switch and pulled that back as well. He observed no change to the darkness; he had no idea if he could even see. He no longer heard the slithering sound, but he didn't move until his nausea and pain lessened enough that thirst and hunger began to replace them.\n\nPainfully, Des removed his climbing harness and parachute. Inside his pack, he fingered the two cans of soda Kathy had packed for him. When he opened one, the sound of the pop-top echoed. Des stood carefully; his head was still swimming. No broken bones, he surmised. He pushed up his visor and drained the can. When he brought his face level again, he could make out a faint light in the distance. Well, at least he wasn't blind. He dropped the empty can without thinking, swung his pack over his back and stumbled through a cave towards the light.\n\nHe reached the end of the cave and after walking unsteadily for sixty meters discovered a steep climb leading to a small hole with light coming through it, about one hundred meters up.\n\nDes removed his crampons and started to climb. With thirty meters left, he stopped to rest a moment, his back against rock and his bruised legs swinging below him.\n\nAlmost immediately, something grabbed each of his legs and began to pull him down.\n\n_The lights._ Des' mind raced to reclaim lost thoughts. As tentacles tugged him downward, Des ripped off his helmet, and turned on the headlamp flinging it away from him. It clattered on the rocks as it bounced down into the cave, its light flashing. The tentacles' grip loosened as the creature chased after the helmet.\n\nDes clawed upwards as fast as he could. He grabbed for the opening, pulled himself through it, then rolled down a gentle slope into mist.\n\nWhen he stopped, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was in a beautiful, colorful rainforest with huge, gnarled trees reaching skyward. Flowers abounded; he saw a bush bursting with huge purple flowers. The slope he had rolled down was dark green and grassy. There was a cacophony of birdcalls. A fawn bounced away from him. He could hear the chatter of monkeys high in the trees. He was astonished by the beauty and gentleness surrounding him; the air was warm, moist and clean-smelling. He carefully removed his pack and Tevlar coat, then sat and marveled.\n\nNothing made any sense to him. His head and limbs throbbed as he tried to piece together the disjointed information in his mind. An expedition to the North Pole had somehow brought him to a tropical garden. An icy abyss had disappeared. He suddenly remembered Mitch calling to him. _Des, open your fucking 'chute!_ Now Des realized he must have been falling, although he didn't remember pulling his ripcord.\n\nThen he remembered removing his parachute in the cave. It had still been packed! So if he hadn't opened it, he was either hallucinating or dead; there could be no other answer. The pain in his body was proof that he was still alive, so he must be delusional.\n\nMaybe he hadn't fallen at all. He closed his eyes to aid his concentration. There had been something else in the chasm...something alive. He had just slipped away from a similar creature\u2014or the same one? The tentacles he had seen with Mitch could have stuffed him into a granite crevice where he now lay; this forest could be an illusion.\n\nHe opened his eyes.\n\nIf this were an illusion, it was a sensational one. The colors were most striking. He had been in a gray world for almost a month, but now he saw color in every direction. He listened to the cacophony and smelled the sweet scent of the flowers, which were everywhere. Some sprouted from the ground, others were on low bushes; even the trees were covered with lavish flowers.\n\nHe remembered that Hans had said to stay put, so Des would do just that until they found him. He opened his pack and retrieved a ham sandwich and washed down the food with water from his canteen.\n\n\"Now, this is a place I could call home,\" he said aloud.\n\nHis pain subsided somewhat. Des stood and stretched, now convinced this was a hallucination. He noticed his Timex wristwatch and checked the time and date, shocked to discover that two days had passed since he had been lowered into the chasm.\n\nHe suddenly realized that the team must leave today\u2014they had no choice. There would be no rescue! Wherever Des was, he was stuck here!\n\nDes heard a whoosh and a wooden club smashed onto his wristwatch, cracking his wrist. He yowled in pain before something hard connected with the back of his head. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 9\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 1; 1530 UTC, 9:30 AM LTD\n\nDes jerked awake in a darkened room. He could see the outline of a startled nurse taking his pulse.\n\n_I'm in a hospital. I've been rescued!_\n\nHe touched his face\u2014his nose was taped, and it ached; in fact, his whole head was bursting with pain. His throbbing wrist was wrapped in some kind of leaves.\n\n\"Where am I?\" he asked.\n\nThe nurse smiled at him with brilliant white teeth, but said nothing.\n\nAs his eyes adjusted, Des studied her in the pale light. She was very tall, with a shapely figure, and her long yellow hair had magnificent curls. She was apparently wearing makeup, which made her face sparkle. He looked around the room while she took his pulse.\n\nThere were bamboo curtains covering an open window. He heard birds chirping outside. There was a strangeness to the window\u2014either his vision or the glass-less opening was distorted. The top and bottom looked parallel, but the sides bulged past the curtains, giving the window opening an ovoid shape. The wall was painted white and patterned with raised, broad strokes of stucco. There were two bamboo chairs at the foot of his bed. The floor was stone, but clean. The doorway leading into an interior corridor was taller than normal and formed oddly, like the window.\n\nDes saw no recognizable medical equipment: no shining stainless steel, no intravenous fluids flowing through a catheter in his arm, no monitors beeping in his ears. Wherever he was, it was primitive. Maybe the best this nurse could provide was tape for his nose and a check of his pulse.\n\nHe spied a small anteroom with a stone commode and suddenly had need of it.\n\n\"Bathroom,\" he said, gesturing frantically at the fixture.\n\nThe nurse nodded and left the room. A few moments later, she returned with two other women, both also tall with long, curly hair. These orderlies, if that's what they were, helped him out of bed; with one on either side, he began to walk carefully across the room. His head was swimming; he hoped he wouldn't pass out. They held him up by his armpits and waited patiently for him to make each step. After what seemed like hours to Des, he reached the anteroom. They continued to hold him by his arms as he urinated. He heard water gurgling from somewhere far below the oddly shaped toilet.\n\n\"Thank you. I didn't think I'd make it,\" Des said absently as he urinated, his head pulsing.\n\nHe peered at one orderly and noticed her face was a sparkling, golden green; her arms were green, too. Des turned sideways to get a better look and started peeing on the floor. She pointed down at him; he corrected his aim.\n\n_Des, ol' buddy, what have you gotten yourself into this time?_ A primitive hospital, and green people to boot. His head hurt worse.\n\nThey carefully escorted him back to bed.\n\nDes lay down and fought the swirling sensation in his brain. His eyesight was affected or the dim light was playing tricks on him because _green, sparkly people don't exist._ In fact, maybe this was all a hallucination or dream.\n\nThe first nurse handed him a wooden tray with a wooden bowl filled with a soupy mush. Des didn't recognize the contents, but he tried it. It tasted a bit like squash. He ate ravenously.\n\nLeft alone and sleepy after eating, Des tried to piece together his fragmented memory.\n\nNorth Pole. Climbing down. Falling.\n\nMonsters. Rainforest. Shattered wristwatch with the date and time.\n\nThe pattern of events seemed surrealistic, yet he felt conscious. He was unaware of how much time had elapsed since he'd looked at his watch, but suspected it had been hours. His team would have broken camp by now, packed the sleds and headed across the Arctic Ocean. They may have already boarded the giant Russian icebreaker bound for Murmansk, their only way out.\n\nThey would have had only one day to search for him. He must have fallen further than they had been capable of recovering him, and so they'd concluded he was dead.\n\nBut where had he fallen to? Unless his past visions were just his imagination, he must be somewhere subterranean. The light he'd seen above could've been artificial. Maybe another culture with space-travel technology had left behind the ancestors of these odd-looking people.\n\nHe drifted into an uneasy sleep.\n\nSometime later, the nurse brought him the same mushy food and Des ate all of it, noticing that his head and wrist felt better. He decided there was something in the food that made him drowsy. He fell into an uncomfortable sleep crowded with strange faces, murmurings and chanting.\n\nThe same nurse brought the same tray with the same bowl, but there was something new next to it, the first food Des had recognized in days. At least he wasn't on some foreign planet. There it was, unpeeled and looking exactly like it should.\n\nDes poked at it with a finger and chuckled groggily, \"A banana!\"\n\nThe nurse looked confused. She pointed at it and enunciated, \"E-yah-ho.\"\n\nDes burst into laughter, pleased to have made contact. \"E-yah-ho, e-yah-ho, e-yah-ho!\" he said, and hugged her. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 10\n\nMURMANSK, RUSSIA\n\nLATITUDE 68\u00b0 59' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 32\u00b0 59' EAST\n\nMonth 2, Day 8; 1230 UTC, 3:30 PM LTD\n\nStephen Summers stood with his arm around his wife on the deck of the icebreaker as they watched the ice pack breaking.\n\nKathy rested her head against his chest, then looked up at him, and said, \"Please help Mitch.\"\n\n\"I will, honey.\"\n\nHe knew this challenge would be similar to a chess match or cards. He was good enough at Poker, so whenever he was evenly matched, he usually won. This time, however, he wouldn't be playing for money, but for Mitch's freedom.\n\nThough Jack had insisted that Des had fallen far beyond their ability to retrieve him, Mitch and Hans had tried their best. With Mitch at the controls of the remaining Buddy, Hans had descended over 12,000 meters into the abyss, aided by night-vision goggles instead of lights. He found that the granite walls continued ever downward, becoming slightly wider, but he saw no sign of Des\u2014or the tentacled thing.\n\nMitch had convinced Bearters that they would be returning to find Des, so against Inuit tradition, Bearters finally agreed that they could leave most of the equipment behind. The tents stayed where they were, the sleds parked next to them. The Buddy was left at the rim of the abyss. They took only the Gliders and the essentials needed for their trip home. Unburdened by the sleds, they had been able to triple their speed through the gray fog across the frozen Arctic Ocean.\n\nWhen the Russian nuclear icebreaker _Sibir_ loomed before them, it had provided the only bright colors on the drab icescape. They saw civilians standing on the ice. The Russian government had needed to refurbish their fleet, and replacement of the spent nuclear fuel and modernization of the five ships had led to a financial crisis. As a result, the _Sibir_ had been reallocated for tourist expeditions, carrying the wealthy to the geographic North Pole. It was this ship that Des had commissioned for their return voyage.\n\nMitch had driven his Glider up to a crewmember standing among the tourists on the ice, nearly running over him.\n\n\"I need to use your fucking ship's radio!\" Mitch demanded.\n\nThe shaken crewmember said in broken English, \"Talk to Captain.\"\n\nThat proved difficult after they'd boarded, so Mitch bullied other Russians about the radio.\n\n\"You've got to treat these people with more respect,\" Stephen said to him.\n\n\"Fuck them,\" Mitch had said.\n\nIn the dining galley, Mitch had knocked over a busboy with a full tray. The resulting crash brought Mitch to the attention of everyone present, including Petrovich Soyuz, Sibir's Chief of Security.\n\n\"I understand that you have a request.\" Two burly Russians, both larger than Mitch, flanked Soyuz. His tone was threatening.\n\nEven with Stephen trying to restrain him, Mitch had replied, \"If you don't let me use your fucking radio now, I'm going to kick the shit out of you.\"\n\nThe skirmish had ended quickly with Mitch on the receiving end of a high-voltage jolt from a stun gun. The Russians had carried him out and jailed him in the ship's brig. That had been seven days ago.\n\nStephen and Kathy watched as the ice thinned, then disappeared altogether. Through the fog, Stephen could vaguely see the port city of Murmansk.\n\nHe heard the whine of a small engine, then a Zodiac boat zipped out of the fog toward the icebreaker. Onboard were three Russian military men. The Zodiac pulled up alongside the icebreaker and tied on. Fifteen minutes later, it left towards shore with an additional passenger: Mitch, handcuffed.\n\nStephen was directed to Customs through a series of rope barriers and armed guards. Officials confiscated the identification cards and passports of the expeditionary members before a guard escorted each of them away; Kathy smiled bravely at him as she was led off. Stephen knew they would be questioned separately to find holes in their stories.\n\nThe guard who took Stephen led him to a small, concrete block room with peeling white paint on the walls and two uncomfortable wooden chairs. There were no windows; a single bright light bulb hung dangling by a wire from the ceiling.\n\n\"Sit,\" the guard ordered in English.\n\nStephen did as he was told. He knew this game had started without him, but he would finish it. He hoped the others would remember the lines he had written for them, but not verbatim; he had told them to ad lib. He wanted whoever was in charge of this investigation to get similar stories from each of them, but not so much that they'd seem contrived.\n\nThe guard returned after ninety minutes.\n\n\"You\u2014with me come,\" the Russian said.\n\nThey went up a flight of steps to a larger room with another guard. Seated behind a small wooden table was a uniformed Russian lieutenant rocking in a Windsor chair that squeaked. He was young with a handlebar mustache that gave him an arrogant appearance.\n\n\"Sit down.\"\n\nThe officer shuffled papers in front of him without looking up at Stephen.\n\nStephen saw Mitch sitting in one chair with a wide grin on his face; he sat in the other chair.\n\nThe lieutenant continued to creak his chair and rustle papers, then he sighed, _\"Ohto vse svidetel'skie pokazaniia?\"_ still without looking up.\n\nStephen was pretty sure he wasn't talking to him, but couldn't have replied, even if he had been.\n\nOne of the guards standing at the closed door replied, _\"Tak tochno.\"_\n\nThe lieutenant stopped rocking and stared at the wall next to Mitch. He removed his horn-rimmed glasses. His gaze settled on Stephen, where it burned like two red-hot pieces of coal.\n\n_\"Zdes' tol'ko 6. No vmeste s evo pokazaniiami budet 7?\"_\n\nThe same guard answered, _\"Tak tochno.\"_\n\nStephen saw that Mitch was still wearing his fur coat, open in front; his clothes underneath looked as though he'd been camping in them for a month. Stephen had no doubt that he looked just as disreputable. The uniformed guards and the lieutenant were dressed impeccably.\n\nStephen hardened his face because the lieutenant was still staring at him. If this had been Poker, Stephen would have already lost; the officer had guessed he would bluff. They could travel nowhere without their passports and identity cards, and this man held them all. He began to feel real fear.\n\n\"You are Mister Summers,\" the officer said. His English diction was perfect; if he'd claimed that he hailed from Kansas or Wyoming, Stephen would have had no reason to doubt him.\n\n_\"Doctor_ Summers,\" Stephen corrected.\n\n\"Is that so?\" The lieutenant's eyes didn't waver. \"Well, _Doctor_ Summers, tell me: Where would I find a saddle thrombus?\"\n\nMitch was still grinning, and Stephen wondered what in hell he found so amusing.\n\nHe told the Russian, \"You would find it in the terminal aorta and in the femoral arteries. It's a blood clot.\"\n\n\"You don't sound certain.\"\n\n\"Would you like to consult another physician?\"\n\n\"I'll ask the questions!\"\n\nStephen returned the lieutenant's fixed stare and pushed aside his fear.\n\n\"And what is the purpose of your sojourn?\" the lieutenant asked.\n\n\"The purpose of the expedition\u2014\" Stephen stopped. He was reciting his lines verbatim\u2014exactly what he had cautioned the others against.\n\n\"You hesitate.\"\n\nStephen knew that if he had a chance in this game, he needed to start playing better. \"Our mission is none of your business.\"\n\nThe lieutenant stopped rocking and blinked.\n\nStephen felt the cards turn.\n\n\"I spoke with the ship's captain, and your group booked passage for seven,\" the lieutenant said. \"Where is the seventh person?\"\n\n\"If you look at the manifest, we booked passage for six snow Gliders and six sleds, along with seven passengers. Desmond stayed behind with the sleds because our mission isn't yet finished.\"\n\nThe lieutenant began rocking and squeaking his chair again. \"And how do I know if this is true?\"\n\nStephen said coldly, \"Ask Bearters. It's Inuit territory, so nothing can be left behind. I think you know that.\"\n\n\"Who are you, really? And what is the true purpose behind your mission? What have you found or left behind? Why did this man immediately demand to use the captain's radio?\"\n\n\"He wanted to call his mother. He always wants to call his mother.\"\n\nMitch grinned.\n\nThe lieutenant rocked.\n\n\"I think I will hold all of you for a while,\" he announced, carefully watching Stephen's face for a reaction.\n\nStephen knew it was time to play his trump card. He pulled Mitch's cellphone from his pocket, stood and placed it in front of the seated officer.\n\n\"This satellite phone is a direct link to my superior,\" Stephen said. \"If I don't talk with him within two hours, he will take action in Moscow. We have diplomatic immunity\u2014we are on the same side as you. If you delay our mission, or interfere with our directive, then you'll have to explain why\u2014and then _you_ will answer questions.\"\n\nStunned, the lieutenant said, \"H\u00f3y.\"\n\n\"Da,\" Stephen said, with a slow nod.\n\nThe officer's chair legs hit the floor with a thud.\n\n\"I can check this story of yours to see if it is true,\" the lieutenant warned.\n\n\"Go ahead, check,\" Stephen said confidently. \"Two hours.\"\n\nThe lieutenant handed Stephen the cellphone, then resumed rocking. \"Please, sit down.\"\n\nStephen sauntered back to his chair and waited.\n\nThe lieutenant stopped rocking. \"I propose a solution: Since you have not passed Customs, you are not officially on Russian soil. Therefore, you are not my responsibility. You could be escorted to the airport to leave as soon as possible.\" He glanced at Mitch. \"All of you.\"\n\n\"Solution accepted,\" Stephen said, easily concealing his sense of relief.\n\nThe lieutenant pushed back his chair and stood, then strode across the room and left. He had folded his cards.\n\nStephen patted Mitch's back and felt something twitch. It was the tentacle finger of the creature Mitch had named a mantible. Bearters had carefully sewn it into a secret pocket of Mitch's fur coat with stitches only an Inuit could hide.\n\nWhen it moved, Mitch stopped grinning.\n\nThe expedition members were waiting together in a small room at the airport, guarded by uniformed Russians. They sat without speaking in a no-man's land between countries.\n\nA young woman entered the room and called out Jack's name. He'd told them he had business in France, so he'd booked an Aeroflot flight to Paris. He stood, his computer in one hand and coat and tickets in the other.\n\nAs he left, he said, \"See you guys around.\"\n\nBut none of them would ever see Jack again.\n\nHans and Bearters were called for their flight an hour later. There was a flurry of hugs and farewells before the door closed behind them.\n\nStephen sat next to Mitch and gave his leg a reassuring pat.\n\n\"When we land at JFK,\" Stephen whispered to Mitch, \"we can get the ball rolling. We'll be back in no time. Don't give up hope\u2014we'll recover him.\"\n\nMitch didn't answer. His face was pale and Stephen knew he was thinking about flying. He picked up his pack and fished around in it, then he held out a cupped hand to Mitch.\n\n\"I have a present for you. Sleep like a baby.\"\n\nMitch took the two pills from him and popped them into his mouth. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 11\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 3; 2215 UTC, 4:15 PM LTD\n\nDes was convinced that his nurse's skin was verdant. She'd responded to his questions with obvious reticence. He no longer felt light-headed; the effects of whatever drug they'd been feeding him had faded with his pain.\n\nHe'd pondered a lot about his present location. If he were under Earth's surface, he certainly couldn't be very deep. He'd studied plate tectonics in college, so he knew that the planet's crust wasn't more than one hundred kilometers thick, and lay over semi-solid rock, the mantle. Pressure and heat began to build within the mantle. Some 3000 kilometers from the surface, a spinning, liquid outer core created the Earth's magnetic field; the solid core was at 5000 kilometers. He also remembered that the continents had separated from a single landmass, pulled by the gliding plates, and ground against each other, resulting in earthquakes and oceanic trenches. He concluded that one plate could have slipped beneath another, leaving a subterranean bubble that had been discovered long ago by someone. This cavern was large enough so the light seemed distant. Maybe it was the source of artificial light that had altered the inhabitants' skin color? He'd carefully examined the few objects in his room, but nothing explained where he was.\n\nDes wanted to explore the hallway again, though the orderlies would just usher him back. He listened carefully for sounds, then unhooked the latch on the window's bamboo curtains and pushed them outward. The large philodendron leaves still obscured his view, but when he stretched to part them, he saw only more leaves with sunlight filtering through.\n\nHe took the spoon off his bedside tray; it was pointed on one edge like a tine of a fork\u2014Des thought of it as a \"spive.\" He used the spive's point to poke through the leaves until he was stretched as far as he could reach.\n\nHe thought he saw a wall through the leaves, then he realized it was a mountainside. Igneous rock.\n\nHe heard voices in the corridor. He quickly closed and latched the curtains and dove into bed, tossing the spive into the porridge bowl. He pretended to be asleep.\n\nHe peeked through one half-closed eye when he heard someone enter. It was the tallest woman he had ever seen\u2014she stood at least three meters and was muscular. She held upright a staff that had been sharpened at the bottom and had a ball-like stone attached with reeds on the top. The tall woman stuck the point of her staff on the stone floor and held it vertical at the foot of his bed.\n\nDes opened his eyes wide, guessing this was the type of weapon that had struck him, and raised his forearms protectively over his head. But if someone had swung that rock at the back of his head, it certainly would have killed him; perhaps he'd been hit with only the shaft. He concluded that these people were too gentle to kill and began to relax.\n\nHe heard sticks tapping against stone in the corridor outside, interspersed with human gasps. As the clatter approached, the wheezing also grew louder. When those noises stopped, Des heard murmuring voices.\n\nThe woman in front of him didn't react. Des assumed she was a warrior because of her stoic demeanor, and the weapon she held. What was she planning?\n\nThere was a wheeze at the door and sticks clattering against stone.\n\nMoving so slowly as to be almost imperceptible, an ancient-looking man entered the room. He was the first male Des had seen since he'd arrived. The old man was dressed in white linen and held a cane in each hand. Stooped over, he put out one cane and took a step, then gasped for another breath. If he had been standing upright, he would have been almost Des' height of 6' 2\", but next to the three-meter-tall woman warrior, he appeared extremely short. The old man turned his back toward a bamboo chair and ever so slowly began to sit. When gravity took over, he released his canes to plop down. He struggled for breath as he stared at the floor.\n\nAnother three-meter-tall woman entered with a war club. She glanced warily at Des, then took the old man's canes and stood at attention by his side. The man rested his arms on his lap as he continued to struggle for breath, flanked by the two Amazons.\n\nHis face was gaunt, and a few sprigs of gray hair sprouted from his otherwise bald and wrinkled head. His skin looked paper-thin, pale white with tiny rectangular patches of dull green. Des thought that if this ancient man were a plant, the green spots would be chlorophyll. He wondered if the man's round belly was due to fat or fluid accumulation from illness; he was fairly certain it wasn't because of malnutrition.\n\nWhen the old man had sufficient air in his lungs, he plopped a tented woolen hat on his head and fixed his pink eyes on Des.\n\n\"Ba-nik a-satta?\"\n\nIt was obviously a question, but concerning what? Des shrugged.\n\n\"Habla Espa\u00f1ol?\" the old man asked.\n\nDes was startled. It was his second encounter with the familiar in this strange land\u2014the first had been the banana. Des had taken one year of high school Spanish before switching to French, now he regretted not having learned more Spanish.\n\n\"No hablo Espa\u00f1ol,\" Des told the old man. \"Do you speak English?\"\n\n\"Parlez-vous Fran\u00e7ais?\" the man tried.\n\nDes was wary. That this man knew two familiar languages was as inexplicable as everything else here.\n\n\"Un petit peu,\" Des said.\n\n\"Un petit peu, aussi.\"\n\nDes smiled. Progress. Hopefully they'd be able to communicate enough in French for him to ask pertinent questions. Maybe he was closer to getting home than he'd imagined. Certainly his parents would've been notified of his disappearance by now. And his younger sister, Kaitlin, whom he adored...He pushed aside his homesickness.\n\nThe old man said with a slight bow of his head, \"Je m'appelle Itar.\"\n\n\"Je m'appelle Desmond Alexander Cox, but mes amis call me Des,\" Des said, then continued in English, \"I consider you to be my friend, so you can call me Des, too.\"\n\nItar snorted and the warriors exchanged glances. Unaware he'd forgotten to speak French, Des thought he must have said something wrong\u2014maybe his name meant something awful in their language?\n\nItar bowed his head. \"Des...too,\" he mimicked.\n\n\"No. Des, just Des.\"\n\nItar repeated, \"'No Des, just Des'.\"\n\nDes was frustrated; this was going to be a very short conversation if he couldn't even convey his own name. He held his hands out flat in front of him and motioned up and down.\n\n\"Des. Je m'appelle Des.\"\n\nThe old man nodded with half-closed eyes and said, \"Des.\" Then he spoke to the guard on his left in his own language.\n\nShe listened to him, walked to the window, flipped the latch and opened the bamboo curtain. Sunlight and birdsong filtered into the room.\n\nDes could see more clearly. The staff she held didn't have a rock on the end, but an iron sphere. Itar appeared even paler than in the dimmer light. His sandals were tied onto his gnarled feet with reeds. The skin of the muscular guards twinkled in the light, so they appeared to have a thin layer of glitter.\n\nDes wondered if Itar was their ruler. But, he reflected, if he were a king, then Des would have been brought to him, even if he'd had to be carried. No, this old man may be important, but he was still a worker bee.\n\nDes sat on the foot of the bed facing Itar as he tried to remember the words to express what he wanted for dinner. No more mush. He wanted carne and pommes de terre.\n\n\"Con...quista...dor?\" Itar asked.\n\nDes knew the old man was cutting to the chase. The guards visibly tensed.\n\n\"No conquistador, no conquistador!\" Des waved his hands vigorously. \"Conquistador morte!\"\n\n\"Usted dijo que usted no supo c\u00f3mo hablar Espa\u00f1ol!\"\n\n\"Un petit peu!\"\n\nIt had been a rapid-fire exchange. Des was trying to communicate in two languages he barely knew and things were already getting out of hand. He knew only one word in their language, and in frustration, that's what he said:\n\n\"E-yah-ho.\"\n\nItar appeared surprised. \"E-yah-ho?\"\n\n\"S\u00ed, e-yah-ho.\"\n\n\"E-yah-ho,\" Itar mused, then speaking to his guard, \"A-ga nagwa owa e-yah-ho? Pistro managua?\"\n\nShe sniggered.\n\n\"E-yah-ho,\" Itar insisted, his face determined.\n\nThe guard left and returned with a banana on a wooden tray.\n\nDes accepted the tray, then retrieved the spive from his lunch bowl. Itar still seemed somewhat unfriendly. _This had better be good or they might make mincemeat of me._ Des held the banana by its stem and peeled it carefully. He folded out the fruit and put the edible part aside. He laid the peel on the tray with the pulp showing. Two segments splayed out like wings; the stem was still attached to a long, thin sliver of peel.\n\nHis audience was watching him intensely. Itar motioned with the back of his hand for Des to continue.\n\nUsing the spive, Des carved out a rough approximation of North and South America on the inner husk on the larger wing. He turned it around and added outlines of Europe, Asia and Africa. Using the stem for support, he folded both halves around the stem to form a roughly oblong sphere with his drawings on the outside. He moistened the carved areas with spittle, so as he rotated his handmade globe, the continents darkened.\n\nItar said, \"Ahh!\"\n\nDes pointed the spive at a rough approximation of the location of Ellesmere Island.\n\nThey all seemed fascinated; Itar nodded his head in acknowledgement.\n\nDes pushed the point of the spive through the banana peel, then dropped both the spive and peel. Spinning around, he thrust his legs out flat onto his bed. The tray clattered to the floor as he began wildly flailing his arms and legs and acting like he was falling. \"Ahh...ahh...ahh!\" he said loudly.\n\nTwo orderlies and a nurse burst into the room. The surprised guards crossed their war clubs in front of the equally surprised Itar.\n\nDes stopped ahhing, sat on his bed and crossed his legs.\n\nItar's expression changed to delight. He grinned, revealing that he had three teeth, and clapped his hands. He pushed the war clubs aside and bowed at Des.\n\nDes bowed back.\n\n\"E-yah-ho,\" Itar demanded.\n\nDes picked up the banana peel and reshaped the Earth. Sitting on the foot of his bed with his bare feet on the stone floor, he handed the makeshift globe to Itar.\n\nItar snorted and turned it slowly. He pointed at the spive, so Des handed that over, as well.\n\nItar held the spive to the globe and pointed at the southwestern United States. He drew a small x there, then moved the point to Mexico, where he made another small x.\n\nItar said with pride, \"Anasazi-Aztec.\" He bowed his head again, this time much lower. \"Ahh...ahh...ahh.\" Itar flailed his arms and legs the best he could while everyone else in the room smirked, then he held out his hand to Des palm up and nodded. In his other hand, he still held the banana peel and spive.\n\nDes' heart pounded. History was a more familiar subject to him than foreign languages. He'd even been to Mesa Verde, pueblo ruins where the Anasazi Indians had prospered for more than seven centuries. He tried to remember what he'd learned there last summer. The Anasazi had flourished for most of the thirteenth century, but disappeared entirely by 1300 after a 27-year drought. Historians thought they'd moved south.\n\nThe barbaric Mexica had entered the Valley of Mexico about 1200 and the resulting Aztec Empire had lasted until Hernando Cort\u00e9s. The Spaniard hadn't come to conquer, but to chronicle. Des remembered that Cort\u00e9s had rescued a shipwrecked Frenchman in Yucatan who spoke both Spanish and Mayan; he had become his translator.\n\nBut Cort\u00e9s couldn't stomach the Aztec high priests' steadfast refusal to change their religious rituals. Their daily practice of human sacrifice was meant to appease the gods and ward off disease, famine, locust hordes and enemies. Failing to convince them to stop, the Spaniard had marched on Tenochtitlan and laid it to ruin in 1519.\n\nItar pointed the spive at the globe and started rotating it slowly, making sure Des could see inside. He put the point of the spive through the split in the banana and, under North America, he held the tip halfway to the center of the orb. Then he bowed his head.\n\nIf Des correctly understood Itar's meaning, they were deeper inside Earth then he had imagined.\n\nItar spoke to one of his guards, who left the room. When she returned, she held Des' front-pack. She handed it to Itar, who ceremoniously handed it to Des. Itar motioned that he wanted Des to show them what was inside. Itar, his two guards, the two orderlies and the nurse were all attentive.\n\nDes hoped he wouldn't disappoint them. He unzipped his pack, grabbed the first object he touched and pulled it out.\n\nIt was a squishy, rancid ham sandwich, covered with green mold. He quickly dropped the rank sandwich on his lunch tray.\n\n\"Yuck,\" he said, screwing up his face at Itar, who responded with an equally disgusted expression.\n\nOne of the orderlies quickly removed the tray from the room, then returned.\n\nDes looked into his pack before exhibiting the next item. He pulled out the soundsticks.\n\n\"Tah-dah!\" he announced, waving them around.\n\nThere were \"oohs\" and \"ahhs\" and a smattering of applause, but Des finally realized his appreciative audience had no idea what the soundsticks were, so he placed them on the bed, along with the CD, the CD player and small microphone. Although the equipment was all there and should be in working order, he didn't think these people were ready yet.\n\nDes next showed around his Timex pocket watch, and they seemed impressed. With gift-giving motions, Des handed the watch to Itar. Itar shook his head and tried to return it, but Des firmly folded the old man's fingers around the watch. Itar listened to the watch tick, then dangled it by its chain in front of his face, appearing happy and grateful.\n\n\"Gracias, muy gracias,\" he said several times.\n\nOnce he had everyone's attention again, Des pulled out a bright red can with Coca-Cola emblazoned on each side. He flipped the pop-top and the can hissed, generating some applause and apprehension. Des sipped the Coke, then passed it to Itar, the perfect peace pipe.\n\nItar sipped, then hummed with appreciation. He handed it to one of his guards and so it went around the room.\n\nDes' pack was empty; he turned the bag upside down and shook it.\n\n\"That's all. Show's over.\"\n\nThe nurse and orderlies left the room, leaving Des, Itar and his two statuesque warrior-guards.\n\nItar studied his new watch, then spoke to one of his guards, who replied. They seemed to be arguing. Finally, Itar boomed a command; the guard bowed, then left the room.\n\nDuring the half-hour before she returned, Itar sipped the last of the Coke and played with his new gift. Des tried to remember enough Spanish to ask some of his many questions: Where was he? What did they expect of him? Was he a prisoner? How could he get home? But he managed to ask none of them before the guard returned. She bowed her head, then stood next to Itar.\n\nDes could hear a woman giggle outside the room. Itar motioned to her to come in; she was apparently reluctant. Itar stomped his foot.\n\nShe entered gracefully, wearing a white blouse and long gossamer skirt with variegated pinks, blues, lavender, and peach colors. Instantly smitten, Des felt that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her radiance filled the room; her golden-green complexion sparkled brilliantly.\n\nItar turned her around to face Des.\n\n\"Anastasia, Des,\" Itar introduced them.\n\nAnastasia smiled with perfect white teeth framed by full lips and held out her hand to Des.\n\nDes took her warm, soft hand and didn't want to let go. He wondered what Anastasia must think of his nearly colorless skin and taped nose; he must look hideous to her. He let go of her hand.\n\nItar was talking, but Des couldn't understand a word. Finally, the old man shrugged and motioned Anastasia to the doorway.\n\n\"Boose, boost!\" He repeated to Des, \"Boose, boost!\"\n\nDes pointed at himself. \"Me? Go with her?\"\n\nItar nodded his head.\n\nAnastasia held out her hand to him and giggled from the doorway.\n\nDes nearly tripped over his own feet to get there, then remembered his pack. After collecting and stowing his sound gear, he slung the pack over one shoulder and returned to Anastasia.\n\nAs Des followed her out, Itar said, \"Des.\"\n\nDes turned. The guards were holding up shirt and shorts. Itar pointed at Des' naked butt protruding from his backless tunic.\n\nDes turned his nude rear away from the guards, only to show it to Anastasia.\n\n\"Excuse me.\"\n\nPivoting back and forth as he crossed the room, Des grabbed the clothes and dashed into the bathroom.\n\n\"Anastasia, I'll be with you in a minute,\" he called out before thinking what an idiotic statement that was. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 12\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 4; 0120 UTC;\n\nMonth 2, Day 3; 7:20 PM LTD\n\nAnastasia took Des' hand and led him outside.\n\nDes felt fortunate to have escaped the potentially volatile interrogation with Itar. Wispy clouds covered an amber glow above; he felt an occasional raindrop. He recognized most of the flora: wild roses and lilacs, mums, a Tree of Heaven, eucalyptus and a tree loaded with oranges. He could see now that the hospital had been built into the side of a mountain covered with rich green foliage and flowers. He heard birdcalls and a child's high-pitched voice. He released Anastasia's hand to part the greenery. The hospital wall was mud stucco.\n\nHe smiled at Anastasia, nodding his approval. As she led him down a rock path, Des suspected they were being followed, but whenever he glanced back, he saw no one there. He picked up a pebble\u2014chalcopyrite; he pocketed the commonplace mineral.\n\nHe began to see that they were in a village with individual abodes that stair-stepped along ledges on a mountainside; sheer cliffs plunged into the forest below. There were paths laid out with steppingstones and chiseled rock with dense foliage at their edges. The stone and stucco walls of abodes were draped with leafy vines and had ovoid doorways. Two children came running down the path, passed Des and Anastasia on the cliff side, then continued running. Des marveled at their surefootedness. As he walked, he collected samples of chalcocite, graphite, granite, and molybdenite\u2014he saw nothing rare or unidentifiable.\n\nHe heard a constant roaring that grew louder as Anastasia led him across the face of the mountain. The path tunneled through a jungle of trees with limbs cross-hatched overhead. Des was delighted to observe monkeys chattering and leaping through the branches.\n\nThey emerged onto a gentler slope. Anastasia climbed a short distance ahead onto a flat rock and called, \"Des.\"\n\nHe ran up the path onto the flat rock and nearly hurtled off the cliff on the far side, but Anastasia grabbed his arm and steadied him. The rock surface was only one meter square, so they stood close. Anastasia took his hand again; Des thought it was mostly to keep him from falling. He feasted his eyes on her, then on the view, the magic and beauty of both overwhelming his senses.\n\nThere was a canyon far below; in its depths he saw a tumultuous river of deep blue water with white, foamy spray. A large tree rose from beneath where they stood to branch out overhead with small green leaves that glistened in the filtering sunlight. Des saw two waterfalls cascading down the far side of the canyon behind the tree; two large boulders punctuated one waterfall, scattering water droplets in a dazzling display. It was the waterfalls that filled the air with sound.\n\nAnastasia tugged on Des' hand to direct his attention across the gorge, where he saw as many as twenty waterfalls cascading to small pools before continuing in another drop of sublime blue and white to destinations unseen; the valley's floor was hidden in white mist. Among the falls he saw a velvety green carpet of trees and foliage. Downriver, Des spied a cluster of adobe buildings on the forest's edge, then a white sand beach and a sea.\n\n\"Beautiful!\" Des shouted over the roar. \"Simply beautiful!\"\n\n\"Bu-tiff-all, abba,\" Anastasia shouted back.\n\nDes replied, \"Abba, yes!\"\n\nAnastasia continued to hold his hand; Des thought he was in heaven.\n\n\"Sight rock!\" Des exclaimed, pointing downward, feeling the excitement of discovery.\n\n\"Sia-ruk!\" Anastasia hollered back, smiling.\n\nDes said, more to himself than to her, \"I've got it now. You're supposed to figure out my language and how to communicate with me.\"\n\nAnastasia talked continuously as they walked back down the path and up some stone stairs. Des guessed she was speaking Anasazi only because he recognized none of it. He noticed that she repeated the same guttural intonations and clicks. When she would stop to identify an object, Des would mimic her, and she seemed pleased with his attempts.\n\nThey arrived at a foliage-covered oval doorway in the mountainside. Anastasia pulled Des inside.\n\nHe saw a cramped hallway devoid of furnishings; the stucco walls were curved and contiguous with the high ceiling. He could see a large room ahead with an opening in the center of the ceiling that admitted sunlight; beneath it was a large clay pool filled with water. On the wall were two macram\u00e9 hangings framed with branches. If there were any meaning to their design, Des couldn't decipher it.\n\nAnastasia tugged Des into a smaller room ten meters past the entrance archway and to its right. This room also had an opening in the ceiling with a smaller pool underneath. It was furnished with a hand-woven reed bed with a woolen blanket supported by cut saplings.\n\nShe giggled and told Des, \"Yes.\"\n\nThis was apparently to be his room, so Des dropped his pack on the bed. Anastasia left him to inspect his surroundings. He sat on the bed, which was comfortable with fluffed feather pillows.\n\nIn a few minutes, Anastasia returned with a tray brimming with fruits and nuts. He was very pleased to see it wasn't hospital gruel. They ate together.\n\nAnastasia unwrapped the leaves from his wrist and examined his wound. When she picked up the tray and prepared to leave, Des stood, gently took the tray from her and put it on the bed. He faced her and held both of her hands.\n\n\"Anastasia.\"\n\nHer gaze locked onto his.\n\n\"Yes, Des.\"\n\nHe wanted to thank her for the sights he'd seen. But there was more. Not since he'd fallen in love with April Adams had he felt the odd sensation of elation coupled with confusion. He felt frustrated by his inability to communicate.\n\n\"Annie.\"\n\n\"Yes, Des,\" she said, more emphatically.\n\nI must make her understand me. She might walk away and never return.\n\n\"Anastasia?\"\n\n\"Yes, Des!\" This time she sounded defiant and tired.\n\nHe gently brushed back her hair and whispered, \"E-yah-ho.\"\n\nMonth 2, Day 4; 1430 UTC, 8:30 AM LTD\n\nDes was awakened by the sound of dripping water, then thunder boomed above the darkened room.\n\nThe reed and rope bed with the wool blanket had been surprisingly comfortable; he'd slept well. He guessed it was near daybreak.\n\nRain fell through the ceiling opening into the clay-lined pool, whose wide, fluted brim was level with the stone floor. Des rolled out of bed to inspect it more closely. Three meters in circumference, it was almost half a meter deep; although it was filled with rainwater, the floor around it was dry. Near its edge were a few clay pots with lids. Des opened one. It contained liquid that smelled of flowers. He thought the pool had been designed specifically to collect rainwater, but the slate floor wouldn't remain dry if it continued to rain. He felt for a drain. The bottom of the pool was smooth and continuous\u2014no way to release the water.\n\n\"Anastasia,\" he called, walking out of his room.\n\nThe rain outside was coming down in sheets. Through the outer doorway, Des saw two drenched warriors sitting cross-legged.\n\nThis dwelling was larger than he'd thought the night before, with narrow hallways leading to several small rooms. The kitchen had stone counters and open cupboards, the dining room had a low table like those used by the Japanese, a bathroom had the now-familiar commode, two storage areas were stocked with dry food and animal fodder and there were four other bedrooms. The deeper into the structure he ventured, the darker it became. The ceiling changed from adobe to thatch supported by rough-hewn timbers; Des suspected that these windowless rooms were built inside a cave.\n\nReturning to the kitchen, he discovered the cupboards were filled with mangos, oranges, papayas, squash and carrots. Clay pots with colorful designs painted on the earthenware contained beans, sugar, maize paste and salt.\n\n\"Anastasia!\" His voice seemed muffled by walls that were suffocatingly close.\n\nHer distant voice replied, \"Yes, Des?\"\n\nSo she was still here. Why hadn't she responded when he'd called to her earlier? He tracked her voice down a previously unexplored corridor to a misty room.\n\n\"Anastasia, I have a problem. Could you please help me?\" _Oh, jeez,_ he thought, _she won't understand me._ \"Ana, come!\"\n\nSteam rolled through the opening in the adobe roof as raindrops fell into a pool below.\n\n\"Yes, Des?\"\n\nAnastasia's face appeared over the pool's edge, and then more of her. She was wearing only a smile. Suds flowed over the lip of her bath and across the slightly inclined stone floor to disappear through slits carved into the adobe wall's base. Des averted his eyes to the wall. Well, that answered the drain question.\n\n\"Yes, Des?\" she repeated.\n\n\"I thought I had a question, but I guess I really don't, so...jeez, I think I better go.\"\n\nWhile it rained for hours, Des began teaching English to Anastasia. She proved to be an avid learner, but he stumbled badly with her language. She picked up eighteen words to his two, and pronounced them with perfection.\n\nDes pantomimed an action, then said, \"Follow me.\"\n\nAnastasia followed him around the room, then laughed and said, \"No, Des\u2014follow me.\" She pushed him behind her.\n\nHe told her the English word for each object he could find. She had marvelous retention.\n\n\"What's this?\" he prompted.\n\n\"Bed,\" she replied without hesitation.\n\n\"And this?\"\n\n\"Bathtub.\"\n\n\"This?\"\n\n\"Front-pack.\"\n\n\"And this?\"\n\n\"Doorway.\"\n\n\"What's making a chirping noise?\"\n\n\"Cricket.\"\n\n\"Higher chirping?\"\n\n\"Bird.\"\n\n\"What's this fuzzy beast?\" Des pointed to the creature inching across the floor.\n\n\"Beast?\" she asked. \"What is 'beast'?\"\n\nDes said, \"Poor choice of word. Beasts are big and ugly, not small and silky. What's this little animal?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Begins with 'cat',\" he prompted her.\n\n\"Oh, I know. Caterpillar.\"\n\nAfter the rainstorm, Anastasia smiled and told him, \"Follow me.\" She led him outside and down the rain-drenched path.\n\nTwo children approached, laughing and tossing a small pouch back and forth. Des tried to get them to stop by stretching out his arms, but they passed by, ignoring him. Anastasia spoke gruffly to them, and they stopped.\n\nDes indicated one and said, \"Boy,\" then the other and said, \"Girl.\"\n\nAnastasia repeated, \"Boil, gerl.\"\n\n\"No, Annie. Boy, girl,\" he corrected.\n\nShe pronounced the words as he had, then dismissed the children.\n\nPointing at himself, Des said to her, \"Man.\" Then he touched her shoulders and said, \"Woman.\"\n\n\"Oh, Des, I know that!\" Anastasia said playfully.\n\nDes wondered what she actually did know when it came to sex.\n\nThey'd walked for half a kilometer when Anastasia turned onto a path that led down the mountain. The foliage was dense, so Des couldn't see far ahead. He heard a cacophony of voices chanting and calling: Children playing and adult voices talking.\n\nThey pushed through the leafy undergrowth into a clearing. Des stopped short as a camel bayed directly into his face. All he saw was teeth and a quivering lip. The haltered head moved away and eyed him, then, coming closer, the camel bayed again, lips chomping. As Des' heart thumped erratically, Anastasia jerked him sideways. The camel had a mound of hay strapped to its back, held fast by a woven mesh of reed rope. A middle-aged woman strained as she tugged on the reluctant camel's hemp leash. She was dressed in karakul, her pleated dark hair hanging in braids from under her white woolen cap. When she clicked her tongue and shouted, her camel followed her submissively.\n\nDes marveled at the gaiety and bedlam that was revealed once the camel had shifted. People were dressed in bright colors: purples, reds, greens and yellows, and the clothing adorned with Indian animal motifs and nature patterns. Laughing children played a game of tag. Hawkers shouted from in front of adobe shops. Colorfully patterned woolen tarpaulins held up by posts sheltered produce and products piled high on flat stones and wooden planks. A flock of untended sheep moved through the crowded lanes flicking their tails.\n\nMesmerized, Des wandered through the open-air bazaar, past vegetable stands, potters, rope-makers and fishmongers. He saw an older man selling war clubs. The sun had darkened the man's leathery face; his arms were lean and muscular. He seemed so sullen and aloof, Des figured he wouldn't want a stranger touching his wares. A woman at a produce stand sliced a kiwi fruit and held out a section towards Des, babbling unintelligibly.\n\nDes took the piece of fruit and bit into it.\n\n\"It's good,\" he told her, smiling.\n\nShe held out a fruit-filled basket to him.\n\nDes now realized that something was truly odd. He glanced from group to group. There were at least three hundred people there, but, except for the man selling war equipment and the children, they were all women.\n\nWas he not supposed to be here? Why had Anastasia brought him to a place where only women shopped? Where had she gone? Suddenly uncomfortable, Des hurried about searching for her. Everywhere he went, women spoke to him in a strange language and shoved food, clay pots, or baskets at him. Des wasn't afraid but his uneasiness wouldn't subside.\n\n\"Anastasia!\" he shouted as he jogged through the bazaar. \"Anastasia!\"\n\nPerhaps he should retrace their route back to her abode and wait for her.\n\nHe stopped to collect himself, leaning on a woolen tarp, but a flap opened and he fell inside, crashing into a squat table. Sandals spilled onto the grass. With one arm draped over the table's edge, he heaved himself up to a sitting position and looked at the shocked shopkeeper.\n\nNext to the shopkeeper was Anastasia, her hands on her hips. She appeared to be exasperated.\n\n\"Oh, there you are. I, well, I...\" Des smiled sheepishly. \"Sorry.\"\n\nAfter they picked up the mess, Anastasia told him to sit on a wooden bench.\n\nThe shopgirl brought over several pair of sandals and sat on a stool facing him. The girl was about sixteen, dressed in a mandarin orange blouse and white shorts with a blue flower stuck in her brown hair tied back with hemp. She dangled one shoe in front of his face. Des felt the same way he had when he was a child, and his mother had forced him to shop for clothes. He didn't need any sandals. Bare feet hadn't been a problem for him on the stone and soft soil. He shook his head. She showed him another sandal.\n\nDes responded with another headshake.\n\nShe held up another and raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Na, na,\" Des said. He straightened his back and jutted out his chin, feeling in control of this situation. Anastasia scowled.\n\nThe shopgirl retrieved more sandals and knelt in front of Des. \"Abba?\" she inquired.\n\nDes just stared past her.\n\nUndaunted, she smiled sweetly and dropped the shoe. \"Abba?\"\n\n\"Na, na.\"\n\n\"Abba?\"\n\n\"Na, na.\"\n\nDes knew the girl had tired as she headed back to the table for more; he was about to win.\n\n\"Abba?\" She presented this sandal on cupped hands.\n\nAnastasia interjected angrily, \"Des, you are not following me\u2014\" Her disapproving expression and tense body spoke volumes.\n\n\"Abba,\" Des conceded.\n\nThe young woman sighed as Des tied the thongs.\n\n\"Asa bui \u00e1 natra,\" Anastasia said.\n\nThe shopkeeper produced a parchment that Anastasia marked with a quill while Des tried walking in his new footgear. She must have charged the purchase because there hadn't been any exchange of money before they left the shop.\n\nAfter they strolled the main street together, Anastasia led Des past the grassy clearing and through dense jungle growth. Des was belatedly glad she had gotten sandals for him.\n\nThe jungle grew sparser, and Des saw a beach beyond its fringe with an aquamarine ocean lapping gently at the sand.\n\nAnastasia trotted into the water fully clothed with Des following her.\n\nThe water was warm, with ripples of waves. Des tasted it; it was salty. He felt a spray of droplets on his back. Anastasia's blue eyes danced as she kicked water at him again. He flicked some back at her, and she squealed in delight. Then he scooped up a lot of water and drenched her.\n\n\"You!\" Anastasia said accusingly as the curls in her hair released. \"You...\" Brushing off her blouse ineffectively, she scowled, her eyes narrowed. She didn't look happy.\n\nDes backed away. \"I'm truly sorry, Annie. I didn't mean to\u2014\"\n\nShe plowed through the water to tackle him. Water and Anastasia swirled above him. He surfaced, sputtered for breath, then laughed along with her.\n\nThey lay on the beach to dry in the warm breeze while clouds coasted by. Des looked forward to exploring more of this odd land before he left it. As he gazed around, he saw a large wooden structure in the distance, halfway between the sea and the forest.\n\n\"What's that?\" he asked.\n\nAnastasia sat up and looked in the direction he was pointing.\n\n\"Follow me,\" she said and ran down the beach.\n\nAs they got closer, Des could see that what had caught his eye was a huge octagonal log structure, with a thatched roof and two entrances on the side facing him. He guessed it to be nearly fifty meters tall.\n\nWhen they entered, he saw that it was some kind of a stadium. There was a sand floor surrounded by wooden plank seats in rows that rose nearly to the top, interspersed with flights of stairs. There was seating for thousands. The roof had the usual opening to admit light and rain. High above the sand, across from each other, two elaborate plank platforms extended out from the seating, toward the center, suspended by ropes and held by trestles.\n\n\"What's this?\" Des asked Anastasia, his voice echoing.\n\n\"E-shandra,\" Anastasia replied.\n\nIt was all the explanation he could get from her.\n\nDes flopped onto his bed, not bothering to remove his new sandals, and closed his eyes in utter exhaustion.\n\n\"Des?\"\n\nAnastasia stood in his doorway, holding a wood tray laden with fruits.\n\nHe waved weakly at her. \"No thanks, I'm too tired to eat.\"\n\nShe put the tray down, removed his sandals and said softly, \"Good night.\"\n\n\"Good night.\" he replied.\n\nIt had been quite a day. He had seen camels, some with howdahs on their backs. Sheep. _The bazaar was bizarre._ He chuckled. And the beautiful ocean...Anastasia...E-shandra. He drifted.\n\n\"Des?\" Anastasia's voice entered his dream.\n\nHe opened his eyes to see if she were actually there. She was standing in his doorway\u2014her blouse and skirt were marquisette.\n\n\"Des?\"\n\n\"Yes, Anastasia?\"\n\n\"I give you...\" She held a large bunch of bananas, which she hung near his bed.\n\nThe next morning the sun peeked out from under a layer of clouds to shine brightly on the glistening, moist jungle of flowers and foliage.\n\nBut the smell of death wafted on the wind. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 13\n\nWEST OF COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO\n\nNORAD HEADQUARTERS;\n\nLOCATION UNDISCLOSED\n\nMonth 2, Day 11; 1600 UTC, 10:00 AM LTD\n\nMitch flipped the tip of his tie up and down, feeling ill at ease and goofy in a suit. It wasn't in his nature to sit quietly, either.\n\n\"He's a full-bird colonel,\" Stephen whispered from his chair across the room.\n\nMitch surveyed the ceiling. \"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"This could be our last chance.\"\n\n\"I know. I know.\"\n\nStephen raised his voice. \"Then watch your mouth!\"\n\nMitch began pacing. His suit was one size too small for him, and it pulled as he moved.\n\n\"I know, Stephen, and I will. I'll do it for Des. 'Yes sir, no sir, and I need help, sir.' That's all I'm going to say. You do the rest.\" He stopped pacing and looked at Stephen. \"I will be good, I promise you.\"\n\nThe doctor looked skeptical. \"Do you even know when you're cursing?\" As Mitch frowned at him, two MPs entered the room, introduced themselves and announced that they would escort them to Colonel Wingert's office.\n\nThe corridor was teeming with people, some in plainclothes, others in uniforms, representing every branch of the services.\n\n\"What do all of these people do here?\" Mitch asked their escorts.\n\n\"Keep the peace,\" one replied with a smile.\n\nThey walked along the corridor for a full twenty minutes. Mitch had the feeling that it was curving into the mountain, and then out.\n\nFinally, their escorts left them in a small room with two doors\u2014the one through which they had entered and another with an opaque window bearing the inscription: Colonel Stacy Wingert, U.S. Army\n\nAgain, they waited.\n\n\"Mitch,\" Stephen whispered.\n\n\"I will be good. I will be good,\" Mitch chanted quietly.\n\nA small, middle-aged woman with her light brown hair pinned-back came through Wingert's door.\n\n\"Hello, my name is Margaret Spillman. I am Colonel Wingert's administrative assistant. The colonel will see you now.\"\n\nWhen Mitch and Stephen entered, Wingert was standing behind his desk, backlit by the window behind him. Mitch realized that he had been right about the corridor\u2014it did curve out of the mountain. Wingert's thick, grey hair had been cut very short and was combed upward. His suntanned face was deeply furrowed with wrinkles\u2014Mitch guessed he was close to retirement. His starched, olive uniform was impressively decorated with achievement bars.\n\n\"Dr. Stephen Summers? I'm Colonel Wingert.\" His hand was outstretched. \"And Mitchell Jones? A pleasure to meet you both.\"\n\n\"Please call me Mitch, sir. Thank you so much for seeing us today. Stephen and I sincerely appreciate it.\"\n\nMitch felt Stephen lightly kick the back of his shoe, but he ignored him.\n\n\"Gentlemen, sit down, sit down.\" Wingert motioned to chairs in front of his desk.\n\nMargaret sat next to the colonel, taking notes or perhaps even transcribing their entire meeting.\n\n\"My good friend, Thomas Backhouse\u2014who, I believe, is your boss,\" he motioned towards Mitch, \"\u2014has told me you need my help. How may I serve you?\"\n\nStephen opened his mouth to speak, but Mitch beat him to it.\n\n\"Well, sir, we have a situation that needs immediate attention.\" Servicemen liked \"situations,\" so Mitch was sure he had piqued the colonel's interest.\n\n\"Really? And what is this situation?\" Colonel Wingert asked.\n\nStephen said, \"Perhaps we should start at the beginning.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Mitch said. \"We need your help, sir. We have a man caught in a crevasse, and we can't rescue him without assistance.\"\n\n\"Is he alive?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. The crevasse is incredibly deep, but he had a parachute, and I personally saw him open his chute before communications were lost.\"\n\n\"How long ago did this happen?\"\n\n\"Two weeks, sir. But he had provisions\u2014food and water, and also lights; it's just too deep for him to climb out.\"\n\nStephen said, \"Boster Denton had organized a mission to\u2014\"\n\n\"Excuse me for interrupting,\" Wingert said apologetically. \"I am familiar with this particular situation from other sources and I'm afraid your friend Desmond is most likely dead.\"\n\n\"Des is not dead!\" Mitch felt his ears flush and knew he was starting to lose control. \"Sir.\"\n\nStephen said, \"If I may also interrupt, please. The question if Des is alive or dead is just that\u2014a question. What we need is an answer founded on solid evidence. Finding Des would accomplish that goal, and that is why we're here today. Finding Des is the solution...how to find him is the question. For that, we need your help.\"\n\nWingert reached into a drawer and withdrew a hardcover volume of at least four hundred pages. He plopped it onto his desk, then pushed it towards Mitch.\n\nMitch frowned at him. What was the point here?\n\n\"Go ahead, the appropriate pages are marked,\" the colonel said.\n\nThe cover of the book had _Top Secret_ stamped in red ink above a title: Operation Refrigerator. There were two bookmarks in it.\n\nMitch opened the book at the first marker about 200 pages in, and read:\n\nJones may inform you that Cox had a parachute that he opened during his descent, but this is utterly false. Appended are topographical computerized images (TCI) that demonstrate Cox was in free-fall for more than thirty kilometers, so one can safely surmise that the fall was fatal.\n\nMitch looked up at the colonel with shock. For once in his life, he had nothing to say. Stephen moved quietly behind him, as Mitch turned to the second bookmark, unaware that Stephen was reading over his shoulder. The page was headed \"Alicia Mitchell Jones\":\n\nI have never met a more vulgar man than Alicia Mitchell Jones. (His friends call him Mitch.)\n\nJones is extremely profane. I was ashamed to be around him, especially with a woman present, which didn't seem to slow down the irreverent language he spewed. I must apologize for not following him steadfastly as I found him so abusive.\n\nI would place his emotional maturity at something near that of a deranged five-year-old. He insanely jumped out of turn from an airplane and never opened his parachute, surviving only due to luck. On several occasions, I witnessed Jones deliberately attempt to cause harm to the rest of the team. He began to ignite a snow Glider's fuel line with a torch, only to be stopped by Des Cox. He stole a pistol from Bearters, the Inuit, and fired several shots before it could be wrestled away. He even throttled me to prevent me from telling him the truth. He is very large and has a savage temper; he only understands violence. I do feel a psychiatric examination would be in order. He's a bully and a\u2014\n\nStephen slammed the book shut. Mitch's ears were crimson; his body was tensed with rage.\n\n\"Who wrote that shit?\" Mitch demanded.\n\nStephen kicked Mitch's foot, but Mitch ignored him.\n\n\"Jack Squires. He works for me,\" Wingert said, his tanned face furrowing.\n\n\"Well... _fu-u-uck_ him!\"\n\n\"Sir, there is a lady in the room,\" Wingert said quietly.\n\nMitch turned toward Margaret; she flinched.\n\n\"Well, _fu-uck_ her!\"\n\n\"Mitch! Stop, please!\" Stephen cried.\n\nWingert stood up so fast, his legs hit the edge of his desktop with a resounding crack, and the desk shook. He grimaced in pain; all the color drained from his face.\n\nMitch didn't wait for him to recover. He turned and walked out of the room, through the reception area into the corridor to keep from saying anything else. There, he stopped, put his back against the wall and slid to the floor, with his feet outstretched, a scarecrow in a stuffed suit.\n\nStephen came out and squatted next to him.\n\nMitch said, \"We're fucked. Des is fucked. The whole thing is fucked, and it's all my fucking fault.\"\n\n\"No, Mitch, it's not your fault. If anyone had said those awful things about me, I would have round-housed the guy right then and there. You didn't overreact. We've just got to find another way to save Des.\"\n\nColonel Wingert came out of his office and strode over to them.\n\n\"Gentlemen, we have a problem to solve. Please, come with me.\"\n\nStephen helped Mitch to his feet.\n\nWingert led them outside to a grassy nook surrounded by a six-foot tall rock barrier. The few other people in the pocket park quickly disappeared. There was a picnic table near the middle, and Wingert sat on one bench, put his legs out and sighed.\n\n\"Garbage. All garbage,\" he said. \"I really ought to find better mole.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Mitch agreed. \"Jack's a pathological liar.\"\n\n\"I paid him good American taxpayers' money for that report,\" Wingert sighed.\n\n\"The cold probably affected his mind,\" Stephen observed.\n\nAll three men laughed.\n\n\"Please, sit down,\" Wingert said, shifting his legs under the bench to face them. \"There is an American astrophysicist currently making some waves in academia. His name is Anderson\u2014apparently, he didn't like having a given name, so he had it legally removed and now goes solely by his surname. Anyway, he's startled his peers with a newfangled theory. Have either of you heard of him?\"\n\n\"I have,\" Mitch answered. \"Anderson's a fucking nut.\"\n\nThe colonel smiled. \"Well, you may think he's a fucking nut, but some believe he's the greatest living astrophysicist.\"\n\n\"What's this all about?\" Stephen asked.\n\nWingert said, \"I think you'd need to be an astrophysicist to understand Anderson's theory completely, but for the rest of us there's a simpler explanation. For decades it's been known, at least in scientific circles, that the universe contains matter and antimatter in equal proportions. However, the known matter always outweighed the known antimatter, so there's been a great search for the hidden antimatter\u2014black holes that neutralize matter. Are you with me so far?\"\n\nMitch nodded slowly, unable to fathom a connection between this and finding Des.\n\nWingert continued. \"Then along comes Anderson, who's hypothesized that there wasn't any hidden antimatter; in fact\u2014and this is where he diverges from all others\u2014there is far less matter in the universe than previously believed, so the known matter _is_ equivalent to the known antimatter.\"\n\nAfter a pause to let that sink in, Wingert explained, \"Anderson theorizes that all the planets are hollow.\"\n\n\"I told you the guy was a fucking nut!\" Mitch said.\n\n\"That may be,\" the colonel said, \"but we also think he might be right. Anderson has developed a six-hundred-page thesis that starts with an explanation of the origin of matter and antimatter, of how the stars and planets were formed, and continues through computer simulations of the resulting hollow celestial bodies. Mind you, he doesn't use the word 'hollow' anywhere in his thesis, but the planets and stars formed around something which left gasses inside all of them. The mass around the gaseous center exerts a gravitational field that, along with centrifugal forces, would push any object away from the center and act similar to\u2014if not exactly like\u2014the gravitational force on the surface.\"\n\n\"So, where did you get your interplanetary experience?\" Mitch asked the colonel.\n\nWingert laughed. \"No, I haven't read Anderson's theory. The Army has read it and interpreted it to me. If you want a copy and\/or the interpretation, I'd be happy to provide them to you.\"\n\nStephen said, \"Where does Des enter into this picture?\"\n\n\"We think he's fallen into an abyss that leads to the interior. Anderson believes that systems in nature are interdependent, so gasses in the center of\u2014let's take Earth\u2014would slowly build pressure that would need to be released. After several hundred years, cracks open between the surface and the center to exchange gasses and equalize pressures. It seems that there are always two vents, on opposite sides of the planet to each other.\n\n\"When the Earth was younger, these sudden openings were huge ravines, as much as fifty kilometers long. As the Earth aged, the vents have gotten smaller. Anderson thinks your North Pole crevasse and another that has opened near Alice Springs in Australia are the current vents. Anderson is in Australia now, investigating. The Australians have teams three hundred kilometers down inside the Earth. They're building a platform every one hundred kilometers. The tentacled creatures Jack discussed in his report have killed three construction workers, but now they've learned how to avoid them\u2014bright light attracts them, but not infrared. Apparently, the buggers are pretty hard to kill.\n\n\"The President and Congress have given us a green light. I'm in charge of getting a team down your North Pole vent as soon as possible, but two problems have persisted.\"\n\n\"Only two?\" Mitch said. Perhaps they were closer to rescuing Des than he'd thought just a few minutes ago.\n\nWingert smiled. \"Anderson believes that as you descend into the Earth, the gravitational force reverses\u2014so, if you were standing on the inside, you would be upside-down to us. Past that, if you continued towards the center for another four thousand kilometers, the atmosphere would be virtually the same as ours at the surface. At the center is the core where antimatter and matter collide\u2014it supposedly glows like the sun. The Aussies believe Anderson and they are set to prove his theory, but we want to win this race.\"\n\n\"The two problems you mentioned?\" Stephen asked.\n\n\"One problem got solved today. The other, we almost had answered weeks ago, and then along came your expedition. The Inuits had promised surface rights to you first, so we had to wait. I managed to insert Jack with your team to gather as much information as possible, but now that the Inuits know they have something of value, they want more chips. So under the ruse of 'no guns'\u2014and we do need to take weapons with us\u2014they are foot-dragging. Negotiations are continuing, but could take months. We haven't got months. They want more land and money\u2014big money.\"\n\n\"Damned straight we don't have months! We need to find Des now!\" Mitch exploded.\n\n\"I agree,\" Wingert said. \"We need to move on this. The Aussies don't yet understand the time problem. Anderson has apparently miscalculated and we believe they'll never make it.\"\n\n\"What is this time problem?\" Stephen asked.\n\nWingert said grimly, \"The vents are closing. The one near Alice Springs is already half a meter smaller, and Jack's data indicates that yours is, too. They'll soon close up like nothing happened, just like they've probably always done.\"\n\nMitch said, \"Sir, you said a problem got solved today. What was that one?\"\n\n\"Why, it was you, Mitch.\"\n\n\"Me, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes. The Inuit, Bearters, is close to their government council, and he has demanded that you lead any further American expedition to Ellesmere Island. I had to make sure you weren't a loose cannon, as Jack had reported. Your profanity doesn't concern me, but I needed to know if you could be depended on to keep a cool head. That's why I showed you what Jack had written. You did as well under the circumstances as I would have. Do you think you can apologize to Margaret?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Mitch said, standing. \"But before I do...\"\n\nHe removed a cloth from his pocket, placed it on the table and carefully unfolded it. There was a soft green glow as the contents stretched and recoiled.\n\n\"I call them mantibles\u2014not this part, I mean the whole creature,\" Mitch explained. \"I got this little finger before it got Des and me.\"\n\n\"You've got part of one!\" Wingert exclaimed excitedly.\n\n\"Yup. Cleaved it off with my little rock hammer.\"\n\nWingert nudged the specimen with his pen and it stretched again. \"Do you think the Army could borrow this for analysis?\"\n\n\"The Army can keep it. I've already done a little geological analysis.\"\n\n\"What do you make of it?\" Wingert asked.\n\n\"I don't think it's alive,\" Mitch said with a smile.\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Can something be considered alive if it's never born and never dies? What we have here is a crystalline obelisk.\"\n\nWingert looked confused. \"Doctor, what in the hell is he talking about?\"\n\n\"I think Mitch is telling you that this is a rock.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 14\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 12; 1400 UTC, 8:00 AM LTD\n\nDes walked alone through the forest; the cool mist seeped into his clothes until they clung to his skin. The chattering of monkeys above was less frequent and the undergrowth now sparse. Gnarled trees rose majestically into the haze from the green carpet of grass and flowers.\n\nDes felt as if he were being watched, like animals were lurking on both sides. He pushed aside his fears and focused on the intensive course in English he had been presenting to Anastasia. He was elated at how fast she learned; she was already putting together complete sentences, most of which made total sense, and was able to recall words he hadn't used for days. He, on the other hand, still struggled ineptly to learn her language.\n\nThe village was boxed on three sides by ocean, mountain and river; Des moved inland on the fourth side. He judged he was going north, then reflected on how preposterous that was\u2014all directions from the North Pole would be south. As he pushed through ground foliage, he kept his back towards the ocean to avoid getting lost. He still felt unseen eyes following him.\n\nHe stopped to listen and heard human voices ahead.\n\nHe moved cautiously to what he thought was a clearing. Two warrior women stood by the edge, then they approached him, bowing slightly.\n\nIt wasn't a clearing, after all. A black abyss was meters away. The mouth of the cave where Des had scrambled from the monster was gone. Now there was only a crevasse, reminiscence of the icy one he'd fallen into. The gentlest of breezes lapped inward over its edge.\n\n\"Des.\"\n\nHe turned, and saw Anastasia was standing among five other warriors twenty meters behind him. She looked even more radiant in the forest than in the village.\n\n\"Itar wants us,\" she told him.\n\nAnastasia had been vague about the local governance, even in response to his direct questions, though she had mentioned a queen or royalty of some sort, so Des assumed it to be a monarchical hierarchy. Itar obviously held a position of some importance\u2014he was certainly an elder and maybe a sage.\n\nGovernment wasn't the only subject that Anastasia had skirted.\n\n\"Where are the men?\" Des had asked.\n\n\"Working,\" she'd replied tersely.\n\nWorking at what? Des had pantomimed hunting and fishing, but either Anastasia's reticence or her ability to convey her thoughts meant he got no details.\n\nShe led him to a path up the mountain where the other warriors left them. She didn't hold his hand on their walks anymore and ignored his attempts to hold hers, which saddened Des. They climbed two thousand meters to a gently sloping meadow hugging the mountainside.\n\nAn enormous stucco building was underneath a ledge, partially hidden in dense green foliage. The roof was flat with protruding log ends. A guard with a war club stood at the doorway.\n\n\"A door!\" Des exclaimed in surprise.\n\nHe hadn't seen one before in this land, especially like this one. The thick, heavy iron door appeared to be centuries old. There was some rust and decay, but mostly it seemed quite well preserved. Grommets held filigreed copper carvings of helmeted Spaniards and large sailing ships on its surface. Des pushed against it, and the door swung open freely a few inches on oiled, metal hinges. He guessed that it weighed four hundred pounds. The inner surface had heavy cross-latching mechanisms that could keep it closed. Des was impressed.\n\nThe guard spoke briskly to Anastasia.\n\n\"Please don't touch,\" Anastasia told Des, adding pointedly, \"anything.\"\n\nA stooped, elderly woman appeared from somewhere inside. Her sallow face was wrinkled and warty, her mannerisms abrupt. She motioned for them to follow her.\n\n\"Who is she?\" Des whispered.\n\n\"She watches...\" Anastasia replied.\n\n\"Caretaker? Keeper?\" Des asked.\n\n\"Yes, caretaker.\"\n\nThe old woman brought them to a large room, with light filtering through long, thin slits in the stucco plastered and wood-beamed ceiling above them. There were a variety of exhibits that made Des think this was some kind of museum, so the old woman must be the curator, but when he turned, she had gone.\n\nTwenty war clubs stood in a row, upright on wooden stands, spaced about a meter apart. The first one looked mostly like the branch of a tree. Next to it was a tree branch with one end sharpened. Underneath each club was a plaque with a pictograph. The war club he'd become familiar with was at the far end.\n\nDes wandered over to a diorama that depicted iron making. There was a wooden, ten-inch-high handmade forge and several wooden molds. Some molds were set in earthen bowls filled with water; Des knew that was done to cool the molten iron after the mold had been filled. At the end was the resultant ball for a war club attached to a small stick with twine. Des wondered if they had tried different forms, or used iron for other products.\n\nAnastasia led him slowly past displays on basket weaving, pottery wheels and farming\u2014the harvested crops were corn, beans and squash. Next to the food were waist-high clay vases brimming with water.\n\n\"Educational,\" Des said.\n\nAnastasia's eyes flirted with his. \"Abba. Sussaquintaconica.\"\n\nLost in her sea-blue bedroom eyes, Des wondered what she'd said.\n\nHe took one last look at the displays as she pulled him into a dark stone corridor, where she lit a torch with flint and striker.\n\nAs they walked, the surrounding walls changed abruptly from granite to chiseled, black volcanic rock that arched one meter above them. Des could hear the dripping of water from the rock walls.\n\n\"Where are we going?\"\n\nAnastasia didn't respond.\n\nAfter seventy meters, the passageway ended at an oval opening, through which Des saw a chamber where dark figures moved about in shadowy torchlight.\n\nAs Anastasia stooped to enter the room, Des said, \"Wait.\"\n\nHe directed her torch towards the black wall, where he'd seen a flat, cylindrical stone that could be rolled to fit over the chamber's oval opening.\n\n\"Des,\" Anastasia said impatiently, \"Itar waits.\"\n\nDes went inside with her and saw Itar sitting in a litter flanked by his two guards. The litter had carry poles at each end.\n\nThe old man stood slowly, then greeted them graciously, talking and laughing with Anastasia.\n\nUsing his canes, Itar moved laboriously over to an upright, polished log; it was two meters tall and too wide to be a war club; the ball on its top had been covered with a white linen cloth. Lit torches surrounded the log, their handles stuck into holes in the stone floor.\n\n\"Tah-dah!\" Itar announced, removing the linen with a flourish, revealing an enormous gemstone.\n\nGreen velvet cradled a pure, colorless quartz crystal that had been fashioned into a detailed human skull. Des had never seen such exquisite craftsmanship. Artisans must have worked for decades\u2014if not centuries\u2014to carve and polish the flawless gem without the aid of lasers or diamond-cutting tools. When Des inspected the smooth surface of the skull closely, Itar thumbed open the articulated jaw.\n\nDes said, \"Beautiful, Itar. Magnifico!\" He turned to Anastasia. \"This...is a crystal skull. I've heard the fourteen original artifacts that have been found were from the lost continent of Atlantis! I've never seen one before, except for photos in archeological magazines.\" He was so excited he forgot he was using words and concepts he'd not yet taught her.\n\n\"You know this...crystal skull?\" Anastasia asked. \"You know how it works?\"\n\nHow it works?\n\nItar sprinkled powder from a pouch onto the cranium. When he lit the particles, Des knew from the brilliant white flame that it must have been magnesium. The skull's interior glowed, then Des heard a low-pitched resonating sound. The eye sockets pulsated red, and the sound changed to a squelch as bright beams of light emanated from the eyes to pierce the room's shadows. Somehow the prismatic crystal had concentrated radiant energy from the burning magnesium and turned it into vibrant lasers.\n\n\"Hermoso!\" Des exclaimed, clapping. \"Beatifico!\"\n\nThe lights extinguished as rapidly as they'd begun. But the brighter light had illuminated the flat rock wall. Des went over to examine the multicolored circles that had been drawn on it.\n\n\"Des,\" Itar said from behind him.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Show not over,\" Itar grunted.\n\nWaves of static electricity branched and faded inside the skull.\n\n\"Itar only start...begin...\" Anastasia explained.\n\nDes motioned for Itar to continue.\n\nItar bowed, then opened the skull's jaw and filled the crown of one molar with powder. Blinding white light flashed as the magnesium ignited. The skull's eye sockets glowed again.\n\nA huge photograph projected from the eyes to hang in midair. Des estimated it was twelve meters wide and four meters tall; the three-dimensional effect reminded him of looking through his grandfather's Viewmaster as a child. Des recognized not only the photograph's setting, but also its subject matter. Balcony House was the name given to the alcove of the cliff dwellers of Mesa Verde; it was that which appeared before him now in vibrant colors. The cubiform arrangement of the sandstone brick walls in their cave made Balcony House so easily identifiable. To the left of the central dividing wall were two kivas\u2014sunken, cylindrical ceremonial rooms, each with a flat roof and a central opening. To the right, the open north plaza stretched to the mouth of the cave, leading to most of the thirty-eight rooms in the rear.\n\nPictured here, too, were the Anasazi\u2014the ancient ones, the ancient enemy, the ancestral Puebloans. A loinclothed young man stood on wooden pegs driven through the dividing wall, halfway hanging over the cliff's edge. Below him, on the valley floor, were sharpened stakes pointing skyward. Two masked men in robes were prodding the young man off the wall with poles while others stood by. The meaning was clear\u2014this depicted a ceremonial human sacrifice.\n\nThe image flickered and sputtered in the torchlight as it faded.\n\n\"Do that again,\" Des gasped to Itar.\n\n\"Uno momento,\" Itar said.\n\nHe filled the occlusal surface of another tooth. Bright light flashed and another picture unfolded.\n\nHeaped corpses were burning\u2014the bodies of women and children. Bedraggled bronzed men were dragging meager belongings past the fires on travois, surrounded by parched and burnt land. Des saw incredible suffering in their faces. As the image faded, a star shone briefly yet brightly in the dark sky. Des concluded the star indicated the direction traveled by these forlorn and bereaved people. It was the North Star; the natives were moving south.\n\nDes was almost unable to speak, \"Are these images... pictures real? Did this happen?\"\n\n\"They are from before,\" Anastasia replied.\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know. But, how? You would need equipment to record these images...how did they get into the skull?\"\n\n\"We follow... Oh, Des, is it important?\"\n\nDes was completely bewildered. \"Yes, it's important! There're billions of prisms inside the skull. Itar first demonstrated inclusion, then deformation. The light was scattered to form an image. That picture somehow needed to be burned into the crystal.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Anastasia said, shrugging helplessly.\n\nDes was frustrated. \"Who...saw...this?\"\n\n\"The one who leads,\" Anastasia answered, pointing at her temple. \"They come from inside.\"\n\nDes thought she meant that mental imagery projected from a leader was displayed through the crystal skull, so what he'd seen was apparently this leader's inner thoughts. Some kind of telepathy?\n\n\"Who leads now?\" Des demanded.\n\nAnastasia locked eyes with Itar, who snorted, then opened the crystal jaw.\n\nAgain, bright light flashed. Des saw the image of a helmeted Spaniard dressed in armor, his face contorted in a grimace as bronze men, their hair slicked back with blood, held human hearts skyward. Mutilated bodies lay at their feet in ankle-deep curdled blood. Des knew the Aztec high priests were offering the oblation to their gods.\n\n\"Cort\u00e9z,\" Itar said coldly, motioning to the Spaniard.\n\n\"Incredible!\" Des whispered.\n\nThe image faded and white light flared as another image replaced it.\n\nSpaniards mounted on horseback were battling natives along a precipice. The Indians were being herded towards a ledge; many were falling off.\n\nAfter this image faded, Itar said, \"Show over.\" He sprinkled magnesium on the cranium. When it ignited, the skull turned glassine.\n\nDes' mind whirred from the horror of what he'd seen, even while wondering how the pictures had been synthesized.\n\n\"Good show?\" Itar asked.\n\n\"Awesome,\" Des managed.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Itar said, handing Des a torch.\n\nThe wall furthest from the room's entrance was covered with a mosaic of brightly colored sand paintings, the pictographs similar to Navajo artwork Des had seen. Pulverized rock and dried plant matter had been covered with a clear glaze. The simple, colorful, two-meter circle depicted standing people facing outward. Within a concentric circle, other people faced inward. Both circles were green; the people on the outer circle alternated white and brown, and those in the inner circle were brown and green. A red line connected the inner and outer circles and extended beyond them both. In the center was a sun, spindle-star-shaped and bright white.\n\nCircles of life and death, Des thought.\n\nThe next painting was more intricate. Two three-meter interlocking circles were unmistakably Earth with its continents shaded in blue. Once again, a thin red line bisected the painting and continued beyond it.\n\n\"Itar, what is this?\" Des asked.\n\nTracing the red line, Itar said, \"Sipapu.\"\n\nDes recognized the ancient Pueblo word. The cave dwellers always dug a small hole in each kiva floor to represent the bond between man and Earth and named it sipapu. Through it, they believed, man's spirit had emerged onto the surface of Earth.\n\nThe red line on this painting was broken twice\u2014once over Mexico, and again over southern Africa. Des assumed it indicated some kind of connection between the two continents. He wanted to ask Itar about it, but the language barrier stood in his way.\n\nHe tried to imagine this painting as a globe. The line wouldn't have passed through the center of the sphere\u2014inside, the line would extend only halfway toward the middle. If the forefathers of these people had fallen here from the Valley of Mexico where the Aztec civilization had been centered, then this painting suggested there had been another portal in Africa.\n\nHe traced his finger along a route parallel to but above the red line. \"Ellesmere Island,\" he muttered crossing Africa to stop in oceanic pink. The continent was missing where a second portal should've been. The artist who created this painting was probably unaware that the Europeans had discovered the landmass.\n\n\"Sipapu,\" he repeated quietly, then tapped the painting. \"Australia.\"\n\nIt had happened before: a crevasse had opened on the surface that had led to...\n\nThe immensity was almost beyond Des' imagination\u2014he was far below the Earth's crust, past the asthenosphere, and probably deep within the mantle. If that were so, scientific knowledge of inner Earth was seriously faulty. For the first time, he wondered if he would ever be able to retrace his steps homeward.\n\nNear the corner, there was a pictograph of a single white figure surrounded by scattered brown and green men that appeared to be dead. Des thought that meant the white man had killed them. One green man was kneeling and the white figure seemed to be holding a spear.\n\n\"Allay, allay ep-sey\u2014\" Itar's voice droned, interrupted only by his struggle for breath. He pinched Des' skin, then his own.\n\nDes thought Itar was saying something profound, but he certainly didn't understand it. He searched the pictograph carefully for clues\u2014it wasn't a spear the white man held; it was a cup with a long shaft planted on the ground. Maybe there was something in the cup to heal, not to kill.\n\n\"Abba?\" Itar asked.\n\nDes shrugged.\n\nWhile studying other sand paintings with more pastoral settings, Des waved his torch along the bottom of the wall. There, he saw a host of men bound to each other by rope. Hideous creatures\u2014some of which walked on two legs, some on four\u2014were whipping the bound men.\n\n\"Des,\" Anastasia said softly, \"I need to speak with Itar alone. Please wait outside.\" She motioned towards the museum.\n\nDes studied the broken bow on green velvet. It had the splintered shaft of an arrow overlying it; the arrowhead was stone.\n\nHe moved over to a display of darts and long, reed blowguns. He'd seen film footage of Africans shooting poisoned darts through similar weapons to bring down large game. He picked up one of the feathered darts.\n\n\"Na, na, na, na, na, na!\" The old curator swooped down on him.\n\n\"Sorry.\" He placed the dart carefully back into the display.\n\nNear the right corner of the main room, Des attempted to peer through a thick, opaque window with glass so old, it flowed in downward ripples. He stepped back and looked around the edge of the wall and saw a heavy iron door sealed with three large padlocks. The door led to an anteroom, but the only way to see into it was through the window. Des tried looking again. He couldn't see anything except by moving his head from side to side and concentrating on the objects inside. They looked like casks or kegs piled on top of each other in the center of the room\u2014there were maybe twenty in all.\n\nHe studied the pictographs below the window and the Spanish words on the locked door before peering through the window a third time. The Spanish word for \"dangerous\" was stamped above smaller script, and Des thought he could see as many as three X's on one of the kegs. He chortled to himself. It was grog. Five-hundred-year-old rum locked up in a museum, a world away from where it had been fermented.\n\n\u00a1Peligroso!\n\nDangerous rum, indeed.\n\nItar studied Anastasia's face in the torchlight. He had watched her blossom from a gangly teenager into a beautiful young woman. Now, she was troubled; she turned away her face when he addressed her.\n\n\"You must listen to me!\" he insisted.\n\n\"I know what you're going to say.\"\n\nItar snorted. \"We cannot continue to prepare\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes, we can!\"\n\n\"The council has not approved\u2014\"\n\n\"Approval isn't necessary,\" she said defiantly.\n\n\"Stop interrupting! When my parents gave birth to an albino baby nearly two hundred years ago, the council thought I was the chosen one. They were wrong.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she answered.\n\n\"Des is not the one, either. The legends do not lie.\" He watched her face in the sputtering light.\n\n\"The legends,\" she said, \"are twisted.\"\n\n\"No, they are explicit.\" As Anastasia trembled, he continued. \"A savior will fall from the heavens. He will be fair-haired, light-skinned, and strong. He will have the gift we have lost; when he arrives, deliverance will be near. Des is a handsome, strong man, but\u2014\"\n\n\"He _is_ the one,\" she replied firmly.\n\n\"And how do you explain his dark hair?\" Itar asked. \"You are grasping at straws. I am old. For me, there will be no other chance. You are twenty-four with a long life ahead. You will wait for another.\"\n\n\"No,\" Anastasia said, her chin lifted in defiance. \"Give Des a chance.\"\n\nItar snorted. \"Teach me more of his language.\"\n\nHe listened intently as Anastasia pronounced once each English word and phrase she knew, translated, then went on to the next. Itar kept nodding as she talked, comparing each word with the languages he already knew. He began to place the words into quickly formulated sentence structures. Each word was safely tucked away in the vast libraries of his mind. He stopped her only once.\n\n\"Green tree, not tree green?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"How odd, please continue.\"\n\nWhen she finished, Itar warned, \"Do not get too close to this stranger.\"\n\n\"I fear it is too late,\" she replied. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 15\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 24; 0330 UTC, 9:30 AM LTD\n\nDes felt a change in Anastasia's attitude towards him after their visit to the museum. She had taken him to the hospital to have the reed bandage on his nose removed. And though she had continued with the English lessons, it was less and less frequently. She seemed distant; she didn't smile at him anymore. She spent more time with others and less with him. The effervescence of their friendship had vanished.\n\nHe thought it was time for him to leave. It wasn't just Anastasia, he longed to return home. Maybe he could use the crevasse he'd found in the forest. At the very least, he should try to forget Anastasia. But that was easier thought than done. In this strange world, she had become everything to him, and now he felt like he'd lost his only connection. If she'd grown tired of him, he'd be doing her a favor by leaving\u2014maybe that's exactly what she hoped he'd do.\n\nHe looked around at his meager possessions: a pack, some clothes she had gotten for him, the rocks he'd collected. All he had to do was put his stuff in his pack, throw it over his shoulder and walk out. He stuffed in his clothing, putting the rocks into pockets, and Des slung the pack over his shoulder.\n\nDes walked outside into the morning mist, determined to continue on without her. He plodded aimlessly down a path. After a few minutes, he focused on his surroundings.\n\nThat's when he realized that the birds weren't singing.\n\nAnd he heard cries of a different kind from far below. Human voices...human cries...human screaming!\n\nDes ran towards the sounds, clawing through dense jungle until he reached a vantage point. He brushed the leaves from his face.\n\nIn the open-air shops of the bazaar far below him, forty meters separated two groups, each comprised of fifty women who waved war clubs and screamed at the opposition. A woman wildly bolted from one group to run at the other, swinging her club. She felled an opponent with a sickening thud, then returned to her team, whooping. The warriors surged closer to each other.\n\nBetween the two small armies, unarmed and apparently facing an impending death, stood Des' beloved Anastasia.\n\nDes tore through his pack and grabbed his soundsticks. He hoisted one into a tree, ran one hundred meters and secured the other. He fished out the mike and the compact sound system, turned the audio to maximum and switched on the microphone. There was a second of blaring feedback before it was ready.\n\n\"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na!\" Des shouted. The sound filled the valley below and echoed off the mountainside. He inhaled quickly. \"Na, na, na, na, na, na!\"\n\nHe switched off the sound system and listened.\n\nDead silence.\n\nHe stowed the equipment in his pack, leaving clothes strewn in the jungle. He heard voices; the warriors were coming for him.\n\nDes ran until he was too tired to go further, but he still heard them following. He also heard waterfalls ahead, so he followed the path to the sight rock. He crawled up, gasping.\n\nA woman with a war club ran towards him, then stopped and pointed at him. Suddenly, there were several more.\n\nHe backed up and slipped off the wet stone. He scrambled feverishly to keep from plunging into the river. He was out of options. He knelt and prayed. When he looked up again, he saw dozens of warriors crowding the path. The closest one had frizzed, red hair around her grim face. She twirled her club skillfully, then seemed to fight to control it, as if the club had a mind of its own. She examined it closely, then refocused on Des.\n\nDes hoped she'd kill him quickly so he wouldn't suffer. He stood, blood dripping from his gouged knees, his head whirling. He readied himself for her attack.\n\nBut the red-haired warrior didn't hit him. She stuck the pointed shaft into the path, fell to one knee and bowed her head.\n\nThe other warriors followed suit.\n\nDes was completely mystified\u2014a state he should be used to by now, he thought wryly.\n\nAnastasia arrived at that moment\u2014not only alive, but waving, smiling and bouncing past the kneeling warriors.\n\n\"Des!\" she screamed, tears streaming down her face.\n\nShe offered him her hand.\n\nHe took her hand and stepped off the rock.\n\n\"What the hell is going on?\" Des paced angrily across his room, his pack slung over his shoulder. \"Why won't you tell me?\"\n\n\"It is not my place...\" Anastasia replied stoically.\n\n\"It's not my place either!\" Des dropped his pack with a thud. \"Why can't you tell me?\"\n\nShe sighed. \"You will learn.\"\n\n\"Learn what?\" He shifted from anger to impatience. \"I don't understand where I am, or why I'm here, or who you really are. I don't mean just you, I mean everybody...Anastasia, I love you,\" he blurted, to his own surprise.\n\n\"Love?\"\n\n\"Oh, this is impossible. Whatever we had together is obviously gone. I'm going home.\"\n\nAnastasia leapt, knocking him flat on the bed. She straddled him.\n\n\"No, Des, no! This is home.\"\n\n\"I thought, well, by the way you've been avoiding me...\"\n\nShe unfastened her blouse and bared her breasts. \"Is this\u2014\"\n\n\"No, Anastasia, not that way.\"\n\nShe rolled off him and sat on the edge of the bed looking confused.\n\nDes sat next to her.\n\n\"I mean...Jeez, what do I mean? I mean, first, we must see if we have a compatible kiss.\"\n\n\"What is compatiblekiss?\" she asked.\n\nHe touched her lips with his own.\n\n\"Oh, Des, I know compatiblekiss!\" she threw her arms around him and pushed him back onto the bed.\n\nDes opened his eyes to see Anastasia standing in his doorway.\n\n\"Good morning, Des. Itar wants us. Please hurry\u2014it's important.\"\n\nAfter he'd dressed, she pulled him down the path.\n\n\"Where are we going?\" he asked.\n\n\"Say-ance.\"\n\nThe adobe building had curls of smoke rising in the air above the dome-shaped roof; it looked like an igloo to Des.\n\nThey entered through a squat passageway that led to a large hemispherical room whose air was heavy, slightly smoky, and smelled of herbs; the outer walls sloped away from the roof's central opening fifteen meters above the floor. The room was crowded\u2014Itar and six warrior women sat cross-legged around an open log fire. The ring of warriors was broken by an empty space across from Itar. The women in the inner circle were wearing white tunics. Des estimated that there were fifty other women standing around them. Anastasia faded into a group near the outer wall.\n\n\"Des, sit,\" Itar beckoned to him, pointing at the empty place.\n\nItar spoke in his own language for a long time, addressing only those in the inner circle. Sometimes, a warrior would answer, then Itar continued. Those in the outer circle wandered about, sometimes paying attention to those in the inner circle and sometimes conversing with each other.\n\nDes couldn't fathom the premise of the meeting, nor why he was there. He recognized the redhead next to Itar from his encounter at sight rock. Her long, frizzy hair was held back from her forehead by a beaded headband. Next to her was a straight-backed woman with short, black hair. She kept glancing at Des, her Romanesque face unfriendly. The rest were young, all strangers to him.\n\nItar tossed some powder on the fire and chanted as blue smoke billowed into the room.\n\nDes coughed as the firelight flickered strobe-like. He looked for Anastasia among the figures moving faster along the wall, then yawned; he grew sleepy with the smell of incense or herbs in thickening smoke and fought to keep his eyes open.\n\n\"Des, walk over fire.\"\n\nDes snapped awake. Itar had spoken to him in English. The old man was motioning. \"Walk over the fire,\" he repeated.\n\nEveryone was staring at Des. Drums started beating.\n\nDes stood, then stumbled. _There's something intoxicating in the smoke,_ he thought, feeling light-headed. He brushed a hand across his face, which felt numb. He whipped his head around towards the drumming\u2014too fast; the room was spinning. There were four or five drummers beating a slow, methodical rhythm. They began to chant.\n\nDes turned his head slowly towards Itar and saw the redheaded woman stand and move away from the ring.\n\nWhat could Itar possibly mean? Walk around the fire and sit next to me? Watch over the fire? Certainly not literally walk across the fire!\n\n\"Des?\"\n\nHe thought he saw Anastasia in the shadows waving him on. _I'd walk across fire for her_. But this fire had flames as high as the bottom edge of his shorts. Des judged it would take eight steps\u2014maybe five if he ran\u2014to cross to Itar. He'd never make it.\n\nItar huffed. The outer circle women chanted. Anastasia waved. The drums kept beating.\n\nNow or never. Des picked up his sandaled foot, then placed it onto the embers, which hissed at the contact. Blue light flared around his foot, giving him some hope he'd somehow survive. He hurried into the flame, careful not to fall. The heat was intense but not unbearable. When he'd reached the midway point, he actually felt a cooling sensation around his legs. The fire drafted downward and almost extinguished. Then it rose higher around him. The bottom edge of his shorts ignited, and he beat the flames with his hand as he moved toward Itar, trying to ignore the sensation of searing pain. He stepped out of the fire, stunned that he had succeeded in passing through it.\n\nWhile he was eyeing his singed fingers, Itar bade him sit.\n\nSomeone called, \"Ay, yi, yi, yi!\"\n\nThere was an answering call from behind him, then more voices took up the cry. The chanting and drumming continued. Des recognized it as acceptance, and he felt pleased.\n\nItar bowed towards Des. \"Now, you are one with us.\"\n\nThe room erupted with, \"Yi, yi, yi, yi,\" a cascade of chatter.\n\nItar quieted them. The redhead squatted where Des had been sitting. The circle was no longer broken.\n\nItar's expression was extremely serious, almost painful, and his eyes were heavy upon Des.\n\n\"We do not...know time,\" Itar said.\n\nHere, they couldn't watch the sun rise and set, nor the planets move through space, nor stars light up the night. Whenever their sun peeked out from under clouds, it was always directly overhead\u2014it never seemed to move. Apparently there weren't any seasons to their years, nor would they even know what a year was, so how could they possibly know time?\n\n\"I gave you the watch,\" Des replied.\n\nItar opened and proudly displayed the pocket watch.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi,\" the outer circle started to chatter, and the drums and chanters continued.\n\n\"With the watch, you know time,\" Des explained to Itar.\n\nItar closed the cover. \"Des, we do not...know time,\" he said hesitantly.\n\n\"With that watch, I can teach you time.\"\n\nThis circuitous conversation made Des tired, and now he also felt somewhat nauseated.\n\n\"Des, we know time.\"\n\nFirst, Itar didn't know, and now he does?\n\n\"How do you know time?\"\n\nItar folded his arms and rocked. \"The time-keeper.\"\n\nDes folded his arms as well, and the two men sat silently, unable to communicate. He doesn't know time, but he does know time. He has a timekeeper. Itar looked discouraged, which was how Des felt, too.\n\nThen it dawned on Des: Not 'know,' but 'no'\u2014We do not have any time.\n\nHe touched Itar on the shoulder. \"No time?\"\n\nItar said, \"No time, yes.\"\n\n\"Why, no time?\"\n\nItar sighed.\n\n\"The beasts return.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 16\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 25; 0630 UTC, 12:30 PM LTD\n\n\"Beasts?\"\n\nNow wide-awake, Des' interest was piqued by the gravity of Itar's announcement. Anastasia had apparently taught English to the elder; Itar's grasp of the language had improved immensely. _The beasts return._ Des recalled the beasts he'd seen in the sand painting. They'd walked on two legs...and sometimes on four. The fire popped and crackled. The pounding in Des' ears wasn't the drummers but his quickening pulse as he waited for Itar to respond.\n\nDes prompted warily, \"Return?\"\n\n\"They return to bring the men,\" Itar said.\n\nThe warriors in the inner circle looked fearful. If this were a planned event of which Itar had prior knowledge, certainly they would be joyous at being reunited with their men, wouldn't they? Des carefully constructed a question he thought Itar would understand.\n\n\"Do they leave the men here?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Itar said. After a pause, he continued, \"When they return, we will kill the beasts.\"\n\nThe chatter and drumming grew louder and Des' heartbeat raced. If his interpretation of the sand painting's depiction was correct, and the beasts somehow dominated the locals, Itar's statement could have only one meaning: war. Des began to surmise that they were here to devise a battle plan and wanted his help.\n\n\"How do we kill them?\"\n\nItar responded by motioning to the war clubs in the laps of the seated warriors.\n\n\"Why kill the beasts?\" Des asked.\n\nItar's face contorted with concentration. \"They take the men. They work them very hard; they bring them back...weak, starved. We feed them; we make them strong. They take the men again.\"\n\n_Slaves,_ Des realized. \"How long have the beasts done this?\"\n\n\"Forever. They were here long before us.\"\n\nDes didn't know how many generations of Anasazi-Aztec had been subjugated to slavery, but certainly, someone would've thought to kill the beasts before now.\n\n\"How many beasts?\"\n\n\"Two hundred,\" Itar responded quickly.\n\n\"You've got to be out of your minds!\" A few hundred women killing two hundred beasts seemed optimistic to Des. \"And what losses do you intend to sustain?\" Oh, jeez, Des thought, Itar would never understand that. He rephrased. \"How many you\u2014us\u2014killed?\"\n\n\"Two or three\u2014\"\n\nWell, at least they had a plan, Des thought.\n\n\"\u2014for each beast.\"\n\nNearly five hundred locals would die if they followed Itar's plan! Des thought back to the fight at the bazaar. They must have known what was about to unfold and had chosen sides, for or against; Anastasia had tried to untangle the confrontation single-handedly by standing in the middle.\n\n\"No, Itar, no!\" Des cried in horror. The cost was too great.\n\nItar wasn't swayed. \"You do not know the beasts. They kill our sheep and cattle...\" He stopped.\n\nDes felt there was something more, something worse to come. He waited for Itar to continue.\n\nThe old man said ominously, \"They _eat_ them.\"\n\nDes had considered that the natives were vegetarians. He hadn't seen or smelled meat cooking since he'd arrived. His yearning for a steak dinner needed to be kept a secret, so he summoned up some indignation.\n\n\"No, Itar, certainly not!\"\n\nItar seemed pleased with the reaction. \"I have seen this. They roast pieces of them over open fires, and they _eat_ them.\"\n\nDes' mouth watered at the thought of a rare steak on the grill, a roast leg of lamb.\n\n\"Can't we live with that?\"\n\n\"No, Des, there is more. They come in boats over the sea. Before they let the men go, many beasts come on land.\" Itar leaned towards Des, reverting to Spanish. \"Los bestias violan las mujeres.\"\n\n_Mujeres._ Women\u2014the beasts do something to the women. _They rape the women!_\n\nDes was overwhelmed by memories of his younger sister, Kaitlin. She was thirteen when she had been badly beaten and raped. It was a miracle that she'd managed to climb out of the twenty-foot-deep culvert into which she had been thrown. Her broken bones had healed, but the emotional scars had lessened only after many years of counseling. She rarely dated, and had never married. Des had been scarred by her rape, as well, and had suffered alongside her. While Kaitlin had never shifted the blame for the tragedy to him, he still felt guilty because he'd forgotten to pick her up after school that day.\n\nAnd now his old wounds were opening\u2014and not just because of his sister, but also because of Anastasia. He'd purposely avoided meaningful relationships, not wanting to chance additional emotional trauma\u2014until now. He scanned the inner and outer circles, past the fire that was churning with flame and embers, until he saw Anastasia. Those sons-of-bitches wouldn't get her!\n\n\"Any births, any children from these rapes?\" he asked Itar.\n\n\"No. They are animals.\"\n\n\"Show me what a beast looks like. Draw me a beast. Asa bui \u00e1 natra,\" Des continued.\n\nItar said something. A woman from the outer circle brought him quill and parchment.\n\nDes watched him sketch a beast with long, gangly, hairy arms, a large, strong body, and a monkeylike face.\n\n\"I know this beast,\" he told Itar.\n\nThe parchment slid from Itar's lap as he gave Des an astonished look.\n\nDes said, \"We've already killed all of them on Earth's surface, where your people were before.\"\n\n\"Will you help us to kill them here?\"\n\n\"I will help, but only if I lead. If I lead, none of us must die.\" Des felt as confident as he sounded.\n\nItar spoke to the others in his own tongue. They erupted in loud chatter. One woman from the outer circle grabbed Des' wrist, squeezed, then slid her hand across his; Des' hand now looked normal where he thought it had been charred only minutes earlier.\n\nThe woman smiled. \"Yi, yi, yi,\" she cried.\n\nDes guessed this gesture was indicative of agreement or subservience.\n\nThe other warriors piled towards him, chattering and whooping, their hands extended. Des was smiling, grabbing their wrists. He not only felt elated, he felt powerful. He knew the deal was done; he had been selected as their leader.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi!\" Des screamed.\n\nHis voice was lost in a multitude of voices.\n\nMost everyone had left. Anastasia was standing in the doorway with Itar's guards.\n\n\"Good trick,\" Des said to Itar.\n\nItar seemed tired. \"What trick?\"\n\n\"Walk on fire.\"\n\n\"Give me your sandals.\"\n\nDes unlaced his sandals and handed them to Itar.\n\nItar turned the blackened soles toward Des. The firelight showed through in two places.\n\n\"Is no trick,\" Itar said.\n\nHow could his feet have survived unscathed in those sandals? Des wondered what was in the powder Itar had sprinkled on the fire.\n\nHe looked at the drawing on the parchment again. This beast was in all world history textbooks. The gangly, hairy arms and the monkeylike facial features were significant, but it was the long, sloping forehead that was the dead giveaway.\n\n_Neanderthal man,_ _the bastard child of evolution._ The others had no idea how difficult it would be to bash the thick skull hard enough to cause death.\n\nWhen Itar handed back the sandals, Des pitched them into the fire.\n\n\"How much time\u2014how long before the beasts return?\" he asked Itar.\n\nItar removed the pocket watch, opened it and pointed at the small hand. He traced his finger around the face of the watch.\n\n\"Trienta,\" Itar said, nodding off. \"No, not sure,\" he added with a yawn, shutting his eyes.\n\nDes thought: Two weeks on the short side, a month on the long. If Itar meant two weeks, we all might die. But with four weeks, we just might have a chance.\n\n\"We should tell the others,\" Anastasia said when they'd left.\n\nThreatening clouds blocked the sun; there was lightning in the distance and thunder rumbling. They climbed past the museum to another ascending path. Anastasia pulled Des over large boulders. A half-hour passed before she stopped.\n\nDes scanned the towering skies. The emerald ocean was highlighted in shafts of sunlight by colorful corals; at the horizon, the sea seemed to curl up to meet the sky. No boats, thank God.\n\n\"Ye-E-E-E-E-E,\" Anastasia called.\n\nThe face of a young man appeared above them, answering the call.\n\nWhen they reached the rocky ledge, Anastasia introduced the young man. \"A-dey-yo, Des.\"\n\nAdeyo couldn't have been more than seventeen years-old, but he was the first man of breeding age Des had seen since he'd arrived here. His blond hair was short and curly, his blue eyes attentive; he had no facial hair. He was thin and slightly shorter than Des.\n\nDes saw a grass shack across a small clearing. A young woman was partially hidden in its darkened doorway.\n\nWhile Anastasia talked with Adeyo, Des roamed. On their climb to the ledge, Des had noticed elongated, vertical clefts in the rock to his left\u2014a natural formation through which no light had shone. Now inspecting them from above, Des could see why. Wooden cylinders of varying sizes rose waist-high above the fluted rock. The largest cylinder was five meters in diameter; the rest fanned out in a semi-circle. Across the top of each was stretched canvas.\n\nAdeyo held batons in his hand.\n\n\"Nice,\" Des complimented as he stepped back.\n\nAdeyo bowed, then struck the largest drum three times slowly.\n\nWah-boom! Wah-boom! Wah-boom! The thunder over the ocean was no match. Even Des' soundsticks could not have duplicated the low bass that reverberated out to sea. Adeyo held both hands flat on the canvas to stop the resonance.\n\nFrom far down the coast came three answering booms, equally spaced, metered just like Adeyo's.\n\nSo, there were more villages with more people\u2014which meant more help. That's why Des hadn't recognized everyone in the inner circle at Say-ance: They must have been leaders from other villages. Maybe the whole upper echelon had been there. The queen could have been the one seated next to Itar. Everyone had bowed a little when she'd stood to make way for Des to walk across the fire. (Or had they been bowing to him, because he was about to perform an impossible feat?) Nonetheless, she could've been the queen.\n\nAdeyo beat out methodical, slow, unmusical notes for ten minutes, using all six skins. Then he repeated the three deep bass notes he'd started with, and the three notes returned from the distance. Des wondered what message had been sent.\n\nThunder rolled closer and raindrops began as Adeyo bowed deeply to Anastasia.\n\n\"I know drums,\" Des told her.\n\n\"Drums?\" Anastasia asked, then smiled. She spoke with Adeyo.\n\nAdeyo held out the batons to Des, who accepted them graciously. He hit the large bass squarely in the center three times, the same beat as Adeyo. Were they still listening?\n\nThe three answering beats returned.\n\nDes hesitated as jagged lightning flashed and thunder boomed, then he began a low roll on the bass that rose slowly to a crescendo. He'd played drums his entire life. He started interspersing low beats on the bass with the other skins, intertwining them into a subtle, long melody. He rolled around all of the drums and back to the resonating bass. Then he escalated to double time. He started hopping up and down to the beat and was all over those drums. If they had been talking before, now they sang. He had them all vibrating at once and ended with a swing at an invisible cymbal, imagining the clang and sizzle. He held the batons high up in the air.\n\nAnastasia and Adeyo erupted in gleeful laughter and applause.\n\nDes bowed deeply and hit the bass drum three times.\n\nA single note returned.\n\nDes bowed again. \"Thank you, thank you very much.\" He returned the batons to Adeyo. \"I hope I passed the audition.\"\n\nLightning struck; this time, the thunder sounded simultaneously. The heavens opened and the rain poured.\n\nAnastasia and Des slid down the boulders; Adeyo rushed back to his shack.\n\nAnastasia led Des through the drenching rain to the museum. He wanted to enter, but the heavy door was bolted shut. Anastasia tugged his hand. They ran on.\n\nHe stumbled at Anastasia's doorway, and she helped him up. They were both soaked, and he could see her body under her clinging, wet clothes. He kissed her long and hard, then watched her semi-naked figure disappear up the hallway as she smiled at him over her shoulder. _I think she loves me,_ _I really do._ He looked down at himself; he was showing through his wet clothes as well, erect and ready.\n\nAnastasia returned wearing only a cotton towel wrapped around her hair. She slipped her hand inside his wet shorts and wrapped her fingers around him.\n\n\"Yes,\" she purred.\n\n\"Abba,\" Des replied. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 17\n\nCOLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO\n\nLATITUDE 38\u00b0 50' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 104\u00b0 49' WEST\n\nMonth 2, Day 25; 1900 UTC, 1:00 PM LTD\n\nMitch tried to fish the key out of his pocket while balancing two paper bags full of groceries. The telephone inside his condo began to ring. He quickly pulled out his key ring, pinned the grocery bags tightly against the door and unlocked it; it flew inward from his weight. As he juggled the bags, three oranges escaped to roll across the floor. He left the door wide open as he dashed to put the bags in the kitchen. The counter was littered with dirty dishes. The small table was covered with a computer, stacks of paper and books.\n\n\"Fuck!\"\n\nHe dropped the bags on the floor; items spilled and rolled. Mitch grabbed the phone's receiver.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Oh! I was about to give up. Colonel Wingert here. That you, Mitch?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner. I've been working on this project overtime\u2014and there's still some confusion downtown\u2014but I'm moving you out. Tomorrow at 0700, you leave for Canada. I'll send a staff car to collect you at 0630. Be ready; there won't be any spare time to dawdle.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I'll be ready.\"\n\nCanada meant Ellesmere Island. Mitch's excitement at finally doing something made him tingle.\n\nWingert added, \"Don't forget a warm coat, but bring only one backpack.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nMitch hung up. Though Wingert had sounded tired, Mitch had sensed encouragement and even contentment in his tone.\n\n\"Des, old buddy, I'm coming for you!\"\n\nMitch looked at his spilled groceries. What a waste of a week's worth of supplies; he had only two meals left before he shipped out. After clearing room on the counter for the three oranges, a large sub sandwich and a quart of milk, he bagged the rest and took them next door.\n\nWhen Mitch knocked, his elderly neighbor, her hair dyed silver-blue, cracked open her door and peeked out.\n\n\"Mrs. Waverly, it's me, Mitch.\"\n\n\"I'm not dressed.\"\n\nMitch could tell she was wearing a robe. \"It's just me.\"\n\n\"Pasha. Give me a minute.\" She closed the door.\n\nMitch waited nearly ten minutes before she opened the door.\n\n\"Come in, Mitch. So nice to see you.\"\n\nMrs. Waverly was now dressed in a pink chiffon blouse and loose white silk pants; on her feet were pink slippers. Her hair had been brushed back from her pale face; she wore fresh pink lipstick.\n\nHer apartment was small but tidy. She lived alone on a fixed income\u2014not poor, but close enough. She still wore a diamond ring given to her by a man who had died fifteen years ago.\n\nShe asked, \"Have you called your mother recently?\" as she usually did. She eyed the grocery bags he held.\n\n\"Of course. She said to tell you hello.\"\n\nShe led him into the kitchen, where she sat down.\n\n\"I wish my son would\u2014\"\n\n\"I have a gift for you,\" Mitch interrupted to distract her. Her adult son Harvey called only when he wanted something from her\u2014usually money.\n\n\"Sit down, Mitch. Screw the gifts\u2014talk to me.\"\n\nThey talked often in the last eight days since he'd been back. Mitch had always enjoyed Martha Waverly's company and grandmotherly insight. He placed the bags of groceries on her clean kitchen table.\n\n\"It looks like I'll be leaving in the morning\u2014a top secret mission, you know.\" He smiled.\n\n\"Clean house before you go.\" She patted his hand with her bony fingers. \"I've seen your pigsty. We don't want to attract vermin.\"\n\n\"Men in uniform will come to pick me up. Men who will salute me.\"\n\n\"Where do you come up with these tall stories? First you tell me about some trip to the North Pole where you lost your best friend in a chasm. Then it's about some rock that wiggles and glows. And now this?\"\n\n\"Yup. Top secret, so I can't tell you much. I'll just say that it's an international race, and I'm in charge of the American team.\"\n\n\"Pasha. Nobody in this neighborhood is in any race. Most of us are just sitting around watching television, waiting to die.\" Her eighty-something-year-old-eyes were still as clear as a child's.\n\n\"Mrs. Waverly, please, you know I hate it when you talk like that.\"\n\n\"Well, it's true.\"\n\nMitch knew if he didn't change the subject she would ramble on about death.\n\n\"Anyway, the Army is going to feed me, so I won't need these groceries I just bought, after all. They're yours.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mitch. I know you're doing this out of charity for an old woman. I certainly don't believe that other crap you've been spoon-feeding me.\"\n\nMitch let it pass. \"So, I mean, if I can, I'll come back; but if I don't make it, if I don't see you again, thanks for the times we did have together.\" He kissed her.\n\n\"You're a very nice young man and welcome in my home anytime.\"\n\nMitch sat in his rumpled suit on the end of his bed, his pack on the floor. Four-thirty. Why was time passing so slowly? He peeled and ate his last orange. His apartment hadn't been this clean since he'd arrived; now it looked as though he hadn't been there at all.\n\nAt precisely six-thirty, he was awakened by a knock on the door.\n\nTwo uniformed men stood outside.\n\n\"Come in while I get my things,\" Mitch told them. \"I have one request.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir?\" one escort said politely.\n\n\"When we leave, you'll see an elderly lady peeking through her slightly open door in the next unit. When you're sure she can see you, will you please salute me?\"\n\n\"Sure, captain.\"\n\nWhen Mrs. Waverly's door-chain rattled, both escorts snapped to attention and saluted Mitch.\n\nThree vehicles were waiting with their engines running: Revolving red and blue lights shone above two police cars flanking a green Army sedan. A few bystanders were watching the early morning spectacle.\n\nMitch felt very important. Then his spirits plunged. What if the watchers thought he was being arrested? He waved cheerily to the onlookers and saw Mrs. Waverly waving to him from her window. Mitch saluted her.\n\nA hand firmly guided him into the back seat of the sedan; his two escorts piled in after him. There was a bustle of activity as doors slammed and engines gunned.\n\nFuck, Mitch thought as they drove off with flashing lights, but no sirens. Well, they'd have to do.\n\nThey passed the Air Force Academy as daylight broke, then the sedan slogged off onto gravel, traveling north. The paved road turned to dried mud, where Mitch could see imprints of large rectangles; he tried to imagine what vehicle had made them and decided they had to be tank tracks.\n\nHe saw Army helicopters in the distance grouped together on the ground\u2014four large Chinooks and one huge sky crane. The sky crane was a helicopter designed to carry a box-like container and had a small cabin in front of its payload.\n\nThey roared to a stop near a Chinook; immediately, its large, top rotor began to whine and turn.\n\nA man in an olive uniform with lieutenant stripes hurried over when Mitch got out of the car. He was as large as Mitch and about the same age. He had long scraggly, sandy hair, a silver earring, a full beard and protruding belly. Distinctly unmilitary, the lieutenant looked like he'd be more comfortable on the back of a chopped Harley\u2014or watching football and drinking beer\u2014than commanding troops.\n\n\"Mr. Jones, so glad to meet you! I'm Lieutenant Mallory. I guess we're on the same flight.\" He shook Mitch's hand enthusiastically. Apparently sensing disapproval, he added, \"Appearances can be deceiving. We're Special Forces\u2014we go where others fear to tread.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Are we going directly to the North Pole?\"\n\n\"The colonel didn't tell you? We haven't gotten clearance to go the whole way yet, so we're flying to Edmonton. The Canadians want in on this, and we've acquiesced. We'll bivouac in Edmonton until we receive orders to move on.\"\n\nMitch tried to suppress his disappointment. \"Okay.\"\n\n\"It shouldn't be long. We just need to recon with the Canucks and work through details. There's a bit of rough weather along the way. Do you have any problems with flying\u2014airsickness?\"\n\nMitch felt his stomach turn and the queasiness spread to his legs. He pulled out a vial of Dr. Stephen's pills and popped two of them.\n\n\"Not if I sleep,\" he replied.\n\nMallory said, \"We have an Air Force escort, so if you hear thunder while we're airborne, it's nothing to worry about.\"\n\nMitch strapped himself into a seat and fell into a light sleep to the whine of engines and the slapping of blades. The droning sounds were peaceful.\n\nWhen he awakened and looked around, he saw nobody onboard. He unfastened his harness and stood. The helicopter was on the ground.\n\n\"Back with the living, I see,\" Lieutenant Mallory said as he came from the cockpit.\n\nMitch felt woozy and noticed that Mallory was peering closely at him.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" Mitch told him. \"Flying makes me dreadfully ill, and I'm a little hung-over from the sleeping pills I took.\"\n\n\"Well, now, you're going to have to get over that if you're going to drive a dog.\"\n\n\"We're not joining the Iditarod, are we?\"\n\n\"Not hardly\u2014you'll see. Well, we made it to Edmonton in spite of your snoring shaking the fusilage. How does the missus put up with it?\"\n\n\"There is no missus.\"\n\nMallory smiled. \"And now I know why.\"\n\nMitch decided he liked Mallory's amiability and confidence.\n\n\"So what do we do now, sir?\"\n\n\"The bigwigs with the Canadian RAF are calling the shots. But from what I can tell, this mission is on standby\u2014stalled, you might say\u2014so we'll be here until they unravel the threads, which could take awhile.\" Mallory wrinkled his brow. \"It's kind of strange. We left with complete orders in place, but now they're on hold. Somebody's balked. I hope we're not here just for show, with nothing really to do.\"\n\n\"Maybe I can come up with an idea that would be helpful,\" Mitch said.\n\nMallory smiled. \"You do that.\"\n\n\"Do you know how to play Poker?\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 18\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 26: 1500 UTC, 9:00 AM LTD\n\nLecherous beasts with piercing eyes had filled Des' sleep. Though now awake, his uneasiness hadn't subsided as he surveyed the hundred women in front of him as their commander. He'd assembled them in the coliseum at E-shandra to begin training. But milling about, war clubs in hand, in their white tunics, they appeared more ready for a picnic than for combat.\n\nAnastasia called to him from the closest portal. Next to her was the redhead who'd sat next to Itar at Say-ance.\n\nWhen they approached, Anastasia said, \"Des, Al\u00e9e. She follows you. The others follow her.\"\n\nSo, Al\u00e9e was the only one present who had officer status. The other inner circle warriors were now among the rank and file.\n\n\"Ladies, please remove your sandals,\" Des said loudly. His own feet were bare and the cool sand felt good between his toes.\n\nThe women ignored him. Des realized belatedly that communication and organization would be extremely difficult without Anastasia translating.\n\nHe said to Anastasia, \"Please tell Al\u00e9e my plan.\"\n\nHe wanted to assess the warriors' defensive capability, their strength and agility, testing them to find the best. He needed to build an army quickly.\n\nBut he also needed to be able to communicate with them.\n\nAnastasia spoke to Al\u00e9e.\n\nDes said, \"Al\u00e9e, have the warriors remove their sandals.\"\n\nAnastasia translated, Al\u00e9e issued the order, and the women kicked off their footwear.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, Anastasia, have them line up in rows facing me, feet on X.\"\n\nHe drew an X with his big toe in the sand, and then more in a line\u2014ten to a row, equally spaced. \"Feet on X.\" As he began a second row, he wished he had a stick; he was making his toe raw.\n\n\"Abba, Des,\" Al\u00e9e replied. She rattled off instructions to the others.\n\nEach warrior took a place and stuck the point of her club in the sand.\n\nDes inspected his troops. They all stood more or less at attention, and were silent. The last line had only nine warriors. Unless Des had misunderstood, he'd been told there would be precisely one hundred.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, who's missing?\"\n\nWhen Anastasia had translated, Al\u00e9e appeared perturbed. She went up and down the ranks, scanning faces.\n\n\"B\u00b4ahta!\" Al\u00e9e's voice echoed around the stadium seats. \"B\u00b4ahta! Yea ah tow, B\u00b4ahta?\"\n\n\"Abba, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi,\" came a shrill answer.\n\nThe shortest adult Des had seen in this land\u2014if she were actually an adult\u2014came through one of the portals, dragging the ball of her war club behind her. The woman, rubbing her plump belly with her free hand and babbling excitedly, was less than one-and-a-half meters tall. Her round face was framed by shoulder-length black hair with bangs to her dark eyes.\n\nAl\u00e9e was shaking her head. Des motioned a question at her. Al\u00e9e made a quick, short squat in reply\u2014bathroom call, he guessed. Well, he couldn't hold that against B\u00b4ahta\u2014or that she was so short.\n\n\"Girl?\" Des asked Anastasia.\n\n\"Woman.\"\n\nB\u00b4ahta took her place, turned her war club around and stuck the point into the sand. When Al\u00e9e clucked at her, she looked around her, took off her sandals, then straightened her back.\n\n\"Drop your weapons!\" Des commanded to his troops.\n\nNo one moved. Anastasia shrugged her shoulders.\n\nDes wrestled the war club away from the closest woman and said, \"Weapon. War club.\" When he let it go, he said, \"Drop.\"\n\n\"Drop war club!\" Des commanded everyone.\n\nClubs thudded to the sand.\n\nThere was a screech from the last row. The woman next to B\u00b4ahta was hopping on one foot. B\u00b4ahta appeared unapologetic as the woman screamed at her.\n\nWhen the back row had quieted, Des got pen and parchment. He asked each warrior her name and wrote it down phonetically. Next to each name, he wrote identifying physical characteristics, glad no one else could read what he'd written, some of which had sexual connotations. When he reached B\u00b4ahta, he just wrote \"short\" next to her name. He asked Anastasia to hold the list.\n\n\"Okay, troops, opening calisthenics!\"\n\nAnastasia's jaw dropped. Al\u00e9e was waiting for her to translate.\n\n\"Des\u2014\" Anastasia began.\n\n\"I'll handle this,\" he said, sure he now knew how to gain the warriors' trust.\n\nHe paced back and forth in front of the troops. \"I know this is going to be difficult for everyone to understand, but we have a real threat out there. If we are going to do anything about that threat, we need to get our communications straight. Okay, how do we do that? If I am going to _lead_ you to victory, then you must _obey_ me. There will be no one second-guessing. If I say 'take that hill', then you do it. Understood? Of course you don't understand, because you don't know what I'm saying. So, let's start with the basic commands.\"\n\nHe took the list back from Anastasia and picked a name from the first row. \"Ray-na.\"\n\nHer dark eyes met his, but she said nothing. Des remembered her from the inner circle at Say-ance. Beneath her short-cropped black hair, her Romanesque face was still unfriendly.\n\n\"Anastasia, please translate. Tell Ray-na that she is to call me 'sir'. It means I'm the leader, and when fighting the beasts, she'll do anything I ask of her. When I call her name, she is to say, 'Yes, sir', and be ready to follow without question.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia translated, Ray-na stared at him.\n\n\"Ray-na,\" Des said.\n\nHer eyes burned.\n\nDes' eyes never left hers. \"Ray-na, give me your war club. You've just been cut from the team.\"\n\nAs Anastasia translated, Ray-na became visibly agitated.\n\n\"Ray-na!\" Des demanded, giving her a second chance.\n\nShe said hesitantly, \"Yes, sir?\"\n\n\"Better. Now say it with conviction and you can stay. Ray-na.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" she said more forcefully.\n\nDes looked at his list. \"Dee-ah-do.\"\n\nDeahdo responded quickly, \"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"May-lee.\"\n\nMay-lee blurted nervously, \"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"B\u00b4ahta,\" Des commanded.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" her shrill voice replied from the back.\n\n\"Now, it doesn't matter what I say, when I do this,\" Des held his hands up high and wiggled his fingers, \"everyone say, 'Yes, sir!'\" He emphasized the last two words.\n\n\"Mary had a little lamb.\" He threw his arms up and wiggled his fingers. \"Yes, sir,\" said a few.\n\n_\"Oh, come on!\"_ He raised his voice. \"Let's try that again. Mary had a little lamb.\" He threw his arms up.\n\nMany more got it that time. \"Yes, sir.\"\n\nDes clapped his hands. \"Better, better. Get the beat, get the beat.\" As he chanted, he threw his hip out to one side and then the other. \"Mary had a little lamb.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" all shouted in unison.\n\n\"Ally, ally, oxen free.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\n\"Jack jumped over the candlestick.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" The sound echoed around the arena and floated outside.\n\nHe sang alternating high and low notes.\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\n\"OK, troops. Opening calisthenics.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\nTheir voices thundered as one, and Des could tell they were proud of it. He clapped his hands and laughed.\n\n\"Excellent, excellent. Give yourselves a hand. That was excellent.\"\n\nHe encouraged them into a few whoops. He had loosened up their minds, now for their bodies.\n\n\"Okay, back in line, back on your spots. That's it. Ready? Jumping Jacks. It's easy\u2014watch me. One.\" He jumped, spreading his legs apart and slapping his hands together high over his head. \"Two.\" He jumped again, putting his feet together and his arms by his side. \"Now, get the beat. One. Two. One. Two. Come on, everybody. Ready?\"\n\nEveryone stood at attention.\n\n\"One!\" Des shouted and jumped.\n\nOnly a few hands clapped, but all of the warriors held them over their heads.\n\n\"Come on, come on, you've got to get the beat. One, two...One, two.\" Des did ten, metered like a song. On the last two jacks, Des sang, \"Ally, ally, ally, oxen free. When you go home, then you will see. We'll kill the beasts, and they will learn. That we're supreme, now it's our turn.\" When they all got it, Des laughed and said, \"Yes!\"\n\nThere was a spontaneous outburst of applause and whooping.\n\n\"Anastasia, have them form a big circle like at Say-ance, and bring their war clubs.\"\n\nWhen everyone had been seated cross-legged, war clubs in their laps, the circle spanned fully half of the arena floor with Des in the center. He checked his list of names.\n\n\"May-lee.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Come here.\" He motioned.\n\nShe stood, holding her war club.\n\n\"Puma.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Puma's curly, long blond hair enveloped an angelic face a paler green than the others'.\n\n\"Come here.\"\n\nDes took each of the two women by a forearm and said, \"Fight.\"\n\n\"Des,\" said Anastasia.\n\n\"It's okay; I think they understand.\"\n\n\"They understand,\" Anastasia confirmed, as the warriors' eyes narrowed.\n\n\"When I say 'stop,' they are to fight no more,\" Des told Anastasia.\n\nAnastasia spoke to them, looking apprehensive.\n\nDes released their arms and backed to the edge of the circle. \"Go.\"\n\nDes planned to pair the women and thus find the best fighters. He'd rate them on his parchment\u20141 for good, 2 for better, 3 for best. The real warriors would be his vanguard.\n\nIn ten seconds, he knew he'd made a mistake.\n\nThe two women bowed briefly to each other. May-lee flipped up her club and rapidly whizzed it past Puma's head, narrowly missing her jaw. Puma took the advantage and jabbed the ball end of her club forcefully into May-lee's stomach. May-lee moaned and fell back, but Puma didn't stop her assault; she bashed May-lee's shoulder with her club. May-lee clawed and bit at Puma; there was blood.\n\nDes threw down the parchment and ran to them. \"Stop! Stop!\"\n\nAs Puma readied her club for a final, deadly blow, Des shouted again and struggled to separate the women.\n\nBlood trickled from May-lee's shoulder; Puma had bite wounds on her chest.\n\n\"What just happened?\" Des shouted to Anastasia.\n\nAnastasia looked at him with surprise. \"We always fight to the death.\"\n\n_Well, thanks for not telling me that first,_ Des thought, as he pushed the two women back into place in the circle.\n\nThe woman next to May-lee ripped off part of her tunic and pressed it against May-lee's bleeding shoulder.\n\nDes studied the grim faces around him. _I'm with heathens. These people are so bloodthirsty, they are willing to kill even each other._ He decided that he would let Al\u00e9e decide who was the best suited.\n\n\"Anastasia, please translate: This is an example of what we must not do. When we fight each other, we have no fight left for the beasts. From this day forward, we fight each other no more. We must behave as if we are all one.\"\n\nAnastasia spoke, then called May-lee and Puma to stand near Des. May-lee still held the cloth to her shoulder, yet she also brandished her war club.\n\n\"Anastasia, tell them not to finish this fight. I...didn't know the rules.\"\n\nThe two warriors threw down their clubs and hugged each other warmly.\n\n\"Anastasia, tell Al\u00e9e that she is a captain who may train her own troops. Ask her how many other captains there are who have this many warriors.\"\n\nAnastasia translated and listened to the response.\n\n\"Five others,\" Anastasia told him.\n\n\"Good, that improves the odds. We'll have six hundred warriors to fight against two hundred beasts. Ask her if all of the captains can meet tomorrow, at Say-ance.\"\n\n\"Yes, they can. When would be a good time?\"\n\n\"I will leave that up to Al\u00e9e. When does she think we should?\"\n\n\"After eating a second meal.\"\n\n\"Lunch time,\" Des said.\n\nAnastasia and Des walked in the gentle surf. He thought her lacy tunic was very inviting and he had to force himself to pay attention to what she was saying.\n\n\"His name is Oom. He is...\" She shook her head in disgust.\n\n\"You don't like him,\" Des guessed.\n\n\"No, I don't. Why do you want to meet him?\"\n\nDes had asked if he could meet the man who made war clubs. How would he explain that like the ironmonger, he, too, was a metallurgist?\n\n\"He does what I do. His job is my job.\"\n\nAnastasia stopped and looked at him with surprise. \"You make war clubs?\"\n\nDes had designed war clubs that could fire seven rounds a second and hit targets thousands of meters away with deadly accuracy, and others which could have easily incinerated her entire village with one _floosh._\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I didn't know that.\" She seemed to be reevaluating him unfavorably in light of this new information.\n\n\"I don't make war clubs anymore Annie; that was a long time ago.\" He squeezed her waist. \"Now I command armies.\"\n\nShe laughed.\n\nThey passed four fishing boats reminiscent of Indian dugout canoes with a reed skin covered wooden ribs and gunwales; a single rope stretched between bow and stern to display the morning's catch. Women standing nearby exchanged greetings with Anastasia.\n\nDes said, \"Fishermen.\"\n\n\"Fishermen?\"\n\n\"They catch the fish we eat, so they are fishermen.\"\n\n\"Fisherwomen,\" Anastasia corrected.\n\n\"Fisherpersons,\" Des compromised.\n\nThe beach was narrowed by sharp cliffs five hundred meters tall which plunged directly into the sea. There were clusters of red rocks jutting out of the water. Near the shoreline was an adobe shack with a thatched roof; smoke curled up beside it.\n\nThe man outside ignored them as he stoked the fire in his kiln. Des remembered Oom from the bazaar where he'd been selling his war clubs. His aged arms were still muscular. He wore a soiled cloth headband close to his brow; white hair stuck up over it. His shirt and face were oily, his hands covered with grease and soot.\n\nAnastasia spoke to Oom, who then motioned for Des to follow, but Anastasia held him back.\n\n\"It's okay,\" Des told her. \"You can go for a walk on the beach while I talk with Oom.\"\n\nShe looked concerned, so he added, \"I won't need you to translate. Brethren in the trade can always find a way to communicate.\"\n\nAnastasia shrugged, then walked toward the surf.\n\nOom worked the bellows on his kiln while Des inspected the rock-lined ditch that carried water from a nearby stream past Oom's granite worktable. Now he understood at least one reason why Anastasia disliked Oom\u2014his body odor was rank. The five-by-four-meter kiln was made of granite bricks; smoke rose from its two-meter-high chimney.\n\nDes picked up a rock, pointed at the kiln, then dropped it into the ditch. \"Water for quenching,\" he said.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi,\" Oom responded.\n\nDes could see inside the kiln through a round opening; charcoal glowed around iron ore as bamboo pipes delivered air from the bellows. He was sure this kiln would withstand the higher temperatures needed to smelt stronger metals.\n\nOom pulled the sponge iron from the forge using wrought-iron tongs, and beat it on his table with a rock hammer. Slag sputtered away from the iron. When he'd finished, he replaced the sponge back inside the furnace and billowed the fire with his foot.\n\nDes remembered from Metalworks 101 that you could put iron ore into a campfire, and it wouldn't melt because the fire wasn't hot enough, though the ore might oxidize from the air and could carbonize from the burning wood\u2014add charcoal, and it would definitely carbonize. Campfires burned at 1100\u00b0 to 1300\u00b0 Fahrenheit. Could Oom's furnace achieve 2400\u00b0 to melt the iron ore? If it couldn't, there'd be no need for quenching.\n\nBut how to change iron into steel? Ancient civilizations must have known how to smelt steel without knowledge of the Bessemer Process, or utilizing coking coal in blast furnaces. As Des watched heat waves rising in the air over the kiln, he remembered that the professor in his beginning metallurgy class had lectured about ancient smelting, but Des and Mitch had gone skiing that day and so had missed the lesson on early civilizations' steel-making.\n\n\"Asa bui \u00e1 natra.\" Des asked Oom for pen and parchment, then drew a picture of a sword.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi,\" Oom said.\n\nHe brought to his table a sword he'd smelted. Short, fat and tapering, it was made of wrought iron, with a pitted, dull edge that had apparently been polished by stone. Judging from the many scrapes along the blade, he knew that Oom had worked hard on the piece.\n\n\"Good try, Oom, good try,\" Des said, nodding, though he knew it would shatter if struck violently and could never have a sharp, cutting edge.\n\nOom brought a coconut to his worktable and showed Des how he peeled the fibers from the nut with a crooked wrought-iron knife. He demonstrated how to cut the nut in half with a fish-tooth saw. He held up the half bowl of one he'd previously polished on the inside after removing the meat, then showed Des another with the two halves laced together with vine; there was a hole in the eye for pouring in molten iron ore. Des realized this was the mold for the war club ball. Once quenched, it would have a durable outer surface.\n\nOom motioned for Des to follow him into his small home.\n\n\"Voil\u00e1!\" Oom said.\n\nFrench?\n\nWhen Des' eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see rock samples arranged in rows on slats of wood. He picked up one laden with gold. He put it back carefully, then looked at the others. He thought he might pick them up in order of descending value. But, what would Oom consider valuable? Perhaps he should have picked up the iron ore first. Nevertheless, he chose silver next.\n\nThere was also bauxite, iron ore and pyrite; and rose, opaque and translucent quartz. Des picked up the pyrite with a smile, and Oom smiled back.\n\nIn all, there were forty-three samples, including copper and tin, feldspar, and granite. Des picked up each one; it was truly a magnificent collection.\n\nHe patted Oom's shoulder. \"Splendid, Oom, simply splendid. Now, what we need to do is to figure out how to forge steel.\"\n\nDes looked through the doorway and saw Anastasia ankle-deep in ocean water, examining something she held in her hand. He drew a small circle on the parchment, then a smaller circle inside the first. When he had Oom's attention, he pretended to pick up the drawn ring and force it onto his finger.\n\nOom rubbed his chin and peered out the doorway. \"A-ka-a, Anastasia?\" he asked.\n\n\"Abba. A-ka-a Anastasia.\"\n\nOom continued rubbing his chin while looking at Anastasia, so Des thought he didn't understand. In fact, he hadn't seen a single piece of ornamental jewelry on any of the women in the village.\n\n\"Ah!\" Oom exclaimed. He hurried to the rear of his hut and returned with a small wooden box. \"Yi, yi,\" he said and bowed, handing it to Des.\n\nDes removed the top; inside the box was a silver band. Even in the poor light, he could see the Spanish inscription and many small facets that covered the rim of the ring. He knew it was Old World in origin, but he didn't know that the finest artisans had handcrafted this ring, and only Spain's grandees had been meant to wear it. Des wondered how Oom had come to have such a treasure. He tried to return the box to him, unsure of how he could pay for it.\n\n\"I-ta-ka,\" Oom said, gesturing.\n\nDes gave his sincerest thanks and put the box in his pocket.\n\n\"Ready to go now?\" Anastasia asked from outside.\n\n\"Not quite yet,\" Des told her. He and Oom returned to the kiln, where Oom stomped on the bellows. Near him was a pile of short bamboo stalks to feed the furnace.\n\nDes picked up one. \"Please ask Oom if I can have this.\"\n\nOom replied in the affirmative.\n\n\"Tell him many, many thanks.\"\n\nWhen she did, Oom smiled.\n\n\"Please ask Oom to try putting another bellows on the far side of his furnace with more of these.\" He stuck the bamboo end against the oven.\n\nShe translated, but Oom looked puzzled.\n\n\"When he's finished with that,\" Des pointed to the sponge in the furnace, \"ask him to almost melt his sword, fire it, and pound it into pieces.\"\n\nAnastasia told Oom, who rubbed his chin.\n\nDes continued: \"Tell him to place the pieces with powdered charcoal in clay pots and cook them in the kiln, with heat not high enough to cause them to melt.\"\n\n\"What is powdered charcoal?\"\n\nDes showed her.\n\n\"Oom wants to know how long.\"\n\n\"Three, four days,\" Des guessed. \"After four days, make the fire as hot as possible with both bellows. When the metal melts, collect it and pound it while it cools. Do not put it in water, but let it cool slowly. Pound it flat.\"\n\nAnastasia relayed all of this to Oom, who continued to rub his chin.\n\n\"He wants to know why,\" she told Des.\n\n\"Tell him he can melt it again and make one of these,\" Des held the iron sword by the hilt, \"with an edge sharp enough to split a hair, and so strong, it will not break.\"\n\nAfter they'd left, Oom pumped the fire hotter.\n\nThe stranger had known rocks. He'd picked up the two most valuable first. Anastasia had told him Des made war clubs; he professed to know how to make sharper and stronger swords. Eyeing his kiln, Oom tried to envision an additional bellows. With more air, the fire could be made to burn even hotter. He looked at his experimental sword. Cut it into pieces and bake it with charcoal, Des had said, so a stronger and sharper sword could be forged.\n\nAnd why would this man want to give Anastasia such a gift as the silver ring? Oom was sure Des didn't know he'd made most of the jewelry for the women in the village because they certainly wouldn't be wearing it now, but he hadn't made that ring\u2014it was from the locker. Oom knew a fine piece of jewelry when he saw one. In fact, the piece he'd given Des was probably his best. Des truly admired the ring and had thanked him even before Anastasia translated. If the stranger knew rocks and jewelry, then he might be right about the kiln.\n\nOom moved a small wooden box to cover the tiny space left empty in the seafarer's chest in his hut. Three thousand individually boxed rings were left. He closed the wood chest's iron-hinged lid.\n\nAs they walked up the path from the shore, Des asked Anastasia, \"Do you know what jewelry is?\"\n\n\"I don't know that word.\"\n\n\"Jewelry is...uh...bright metal decorations to wear on your ears or around your neck, wrist, or finger.\"\n\nAnastasia stopped. \"So, Oom told you.\"\n\n\"Told me what?\"\n\n\"He makes...jewelry.\"\n\n\"War clubs and jewelry?\"\n\n\"Abba.\"\n\n\"So you do have it. Then why does no one wear any jewelry?\"\n\n\"Because it is forbidden until the men return; it would be too...too...\"\n\n\"Too vain,\" Des supplied.\n\n\"Abba, too main.\"\n\nWhen they arrived at the museum to meet Itar, the heavy iron door was open and the old woman was waiting for them.\n\nItar arrived soon after with his small entourage. His guards brought the elder into the museum on his litter and put it down near the war club display.\n\nDes thought Itar appeared frailer and paler than when he'd last seen him. \"Itar! How are you?\"\n\n\"I am old. Good days and bad.\"\n\nDes remembered there had been something potentially useful in the museum, but what it was had slipped from his mind. He surveyed the exhibits. Pottery. War clubs. Basket-weaving. Foods farmed from the earth. Filled water vases. The inner locked door. He paused in front of the broken bow and arrow on green velvet.\n\nDes picked up one of the reed blowguns, to the dismay of the curator, and brought it over to Itar. He laid it down in front of him.\n\n\"Itar, do you have any bad frogs here? Do dangerous frogs live here?\"\n\n\"'Dangerous frogs'?\" Itar repeated, confused.\n\n\"Frogs\u2014little green animals who say ribet, ribet.\" Des hopped around the floor in his best frog imitation.\n\nItar found this amusing, but not apparently elucidating. \"El animal peligroso?\"\n\n\"Si, el animal peligroso,\" Des replied.\n\n\"No, no animal peligroso,\" Itar said. After a pause, he added suddenly, \"El animal t\u00f3xico! La rana?\"\n\nDes belatedly remembered that was the Spanish word for frog. He was ecstatic: Itar knew of poisonous frogs.\n\n\"Yes, Itar, abba!\"\n\nItar spoke gruffly to the curator, who responded with equal gruffness. They squabbled for a bit, then she left. She returned with a large crucible and set it on the floor next to Des.\n\nHe opened the lid. Inside were frog skins in a clear liquid.\n\nDes grinned. He retrieved a dart from the blowgun display, then mimed dipping the tip in the liquid. He loaded the dart inside the gun, then blew forcefully. The dart stuck into the table bearing the foods from the earth.\n\n\"The beast,\" Des said, as he pulled the dart from the wood.\n\nItar's face lit up. \"Ahhh!\"\n\n\"Ahhh!\" Des repeated.\n\nItar said, \"No work. Fish, yes; beast, no.\"\n\nDes was certain that Itar was referring to dosage\u2014dipping the dart could only paralyze small animals. But Africans brought down large game with this weapon. He examined the dart more closely and saw a pinhole in the tip's end. He twisted until the corkscrew halves came apart. The wooden plunger inside had seized.\n\n\"Itar, the dart is too dry. Soak it in water, and this moves. Fill it with poison, and the beast will die.\"\n\nItar grinned toothlessly.\n\n\"Itar, we need all of these blowguns at E-shandra tomorrow, with the darts. The warriors must practice.\"\n\nWhen Itar nodded, Des said, \"Please follow me.\"\n\nHe led Itar's guards over to the padlocked door where they set down his litter.\n\n\"Itar, what does this say? What do these words mean in my tongue?\"\n\nItar concentrated. \"It says...it says, 'Dangerous.'\" He smiled at Des.\n\n\"Yes, I know that part.\" Des smiled back. Give Itar half a chance, and he would become fluent in English.\n\nItar ran his finger along the Spanish words. \"'Inside this room lies Diablo himself. He who opens this door will kill everyone. Death.'\"\n\n_Obviously written by crusading teetotalers,_ Des thought. Mitch would never survive here with no meat and no booze. It was the second time Des had thought about his best friend that day. Des hoped he had escaped the tentacled thing in the abyss, but he would probably never know. That world was most likely lost to him forever.\n\n\"Maybe we should open the door,\" Des said to Itar, thinking that they should to dispel the mystery and search for useful tools.\n\nThe old man shivered. \"Maybe we should not.\"\n\n\"Well, maybe someday,\" Des sighed.\n\n\"No,\" Itar said firmly. \"Never.\"\n\nAnastasia served salmon with almonds and rice for dinner.\n\nDes moved his pen and parchment to one side. \"How would you say 'war is hell'?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because it is.\" Des buttered some freshly baked bread and took a bite of fish. \"It's good.\"\n\n\"Thank you. What is 'war'?\"\n\n\"Big-time fighting. Us against the beasts.\"\n\n\"And what is 'hell'?\"\n\n\"A bad place. A place worse than bad. Somewhere that is evil, ugly, empty.\"\n\n\"E-cock-a-ou-e sa unna ti.\"\n\nDes wrote it down on the parchment, spelling it phonetically.\n\n\"How about: 'We have nothing to fear but fear itself.'\" He could use all the best quotes from history and label them as his own without anyone realizing he'd plagiarized.\n\n\"Des, what are you doing?\"\n\n\"Well, when the time is right, I'll need to address the troops, to speak to them, to get them prepared to fight and eager to win. I want to do this with a speech in their language, so I need your help. I can write down how your words sound to me and repeat them later. Will you help?\n\n\"Of course. Sometimes you...you surprise me.\"\n\nLater that night, Des was awakened by Anastasia's restlessness.\n\n\"What's the matter, love?\"\n\n\"Des, what if this is the end of everything? What if the beasts win and kill us all?\"\n\n\"I won't let that happen.\"\n\n\"But what if you can't stop them?\"\n\n\"Then I shall be with you always.\"\n\nTears welled in Anastasia's eyes. \"I don't think that is possible.\"\n\n\"Anything is possible,\" Des said, hugging her tightly. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 19\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 2, Day 27: 1515 UTC, 9:15 AM LTD\n\nDes held a meter-long branch that forked like a divining rod. He used one pointed end to draw a large circle in the sand, then a concentric circle. \"Gravitational effect,\" he said to himself, adding an arrow above the outer circle, pointing downward. He drew another arrow inside the inner circle directly opposite the first, so the two arrows pointed at each other.\n\nHe thought of Al\u00e9e's amazed expression when she'd struggled with her war club when Des had stood on Sight Rock, before she'd fallen to her knee and bowed. Then he remembered how the fire at Say-ance had almost extinguished when he'd walked over the logs, but had burned brightly when he'd thought about his sister. Could he have been the catalyst? In this upside-down world, might he be able to _control_ gravity, or even reverse it? Or was gravity already reversed for him? The warriors were eager to follow him, but he didn't know why.\n\nHe planted the shaft of the branch firmly into the sand and backed away, glancing around warily to make sure no one was watching him.\n\n\"Stick, come to me,\" he commanded.\n\nThe stick didn't move.\n\nDes motioned to it. \"Stick, now!\"\n\nNot a twitch.\n\n\"Fine!\" Des grumbled, turning and walking away, feeling foolish. So he didn't have power of levitation. Still, there was something inexplicable.\n\nHe felt a soft rap on his back. When he turned, the branch lay in the sand directly behind him.\n\nGoosebumps prickled his skin. _Attitude,_ Des surmised\u2014it has to do with a state of mind. When something had moved before, he'd always been angry.\n\nDes righted the branch. \"Stick, move over there! Do it now!\"\n\nTwo passing warriors shot worried glances at Des.\n\nGreat, Des thought. Now they'll all think I'm nuts!\n\nThe captains sat around the fire at Say-ance; Itar had powdered the flames and they ignited in sparkling brilliance. The old man's guards stood behind him, and Anastasia was nearby. In addition to Al\u00e9e the warriors present were Saya, Elan, Mio, Ena and Trebliskis.\n\nSaya was tall and slender. Her slanted, dark brown eyes contrasted with her anemic complexion and bland expressions; she wore her jet-black hair spiked in a Mohawk. The high collar of her white silk tunic emphasized her long neck.\n\nElan was a dark-skinned bull of a woman dressed in red who reminded Des of a Sumo wrestler, almost as wide as tall. Her military-tight haircut exaggerated the prominent eyes and full lips of her fierce face.\n\nBeautiful Mio had curly, red hair and wore a frilly, white tunic over large breasts and a small waist. Her light green skin twinkled when she moved.\n\nEna and Trebliskis were twins who dressed alike in sky-blue light woolen tunics. Tawny and muscular, they moved so gracefully Des could imagine them easily crossing the forest unseen.\n\n\"What happens when the beasts return?\" Des asked Anastasia.\n\n\"A fishing boat with two or three beasts rows to shore first. One beast stays on the boat while the other\u2014or others...\"\n\n\"Checks things out on shore, comes onto the land,\" Des finished for her. \"They make sure everything is normal? A decoy, in case something is wrong?\"\n\n\"Yes, and they hurt the young women,\" Anastasia added.\n\n\"Then what happens?\"\n\n\"Then the big boats with the men come\u2014usually there are three. They come close to the shore and many beasts wade to land to use the women. The rest bring the men ashore, but they must wait in line to be released. The beasts set up a table and write each man's name and have him sign the book.\"\n\n\"Is everyone here allowed to stand around on the beach while the men are released?\"\n\n\"Yes, but no one can go past the table or toward the boats.\"\n\n\"Can you carry war clubs?\"\n\n\"No. Weapons are forbidden.\"\n\n\"After they release the men, the beasts leave?\"\n\n\"They will take food, then leave...until the next time,\" Anastasia said sadly.\n\n\"There will be no next time. We will slay the beasts before they return to their boats.\" Des had been formulating a plan to divide and conquer. \"Mio, we need women who can lure beasts inside houses. Ena, we need warriors already there who will club the beasts to death.\"\n\nAnastasia translated; they nodded.\n\nDes said, \"Al\u00e9e's team will silently board the boats so that the beasts on land will not become alarmed.\"\n\nHe demonstrated how they could breathe underwater using the bamboo stick he'd gotten from Oom. He tied a small fishing net holding rocks to his waist as a weight belt, then showed them how they could climb over the gunwales using grapnel and rope.\n\nAl\u00e9e nodded with understanding.\n\n\"Since the beasts will take sheep and maybe the cattle, we need flock tenders and more warriors hidden around the flock, Elan.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia had translated, Elan nodded.\n\nDes continued: \"The beasts will be on guard for anything that looks unusual. We need plenty of greeters on the beach. Saya, your team will take the men away as soon as they have been released. I understand that they'll be too weak to be helpful, so get them to safety and guard them. Trebliskis, your team will also be on the beach. You will be in charge of a frontal assault, if necessary, and mopping up.\"\n\nDes then explained how they would hide war clubs under upturned, beached fishing boats.\n\nAnastasia interrupted her translation to ask, \"Des, what is a frontal assault?\"\n\n\"They flip over the canoes, grab their war clubs, and rush the boats.\"\n\n\"And 'mopping up'?\"\n\n\"They kill any beasts that return from the houses, whether to attack or to escape.\"\n\nItar pondered the plan. \"Is good.\"\n\n\"It better be good because we get only one chance. All of the teams must work together to be successful. There has to be a rhythm because if anyone is out of step with the plan, it's over.\"\n\nThe warriors' faces showed excitement, not fear, and Des felt that to be a good sign.\n\n\"Things will go wrong,\" he warned them through Anastasia. \"No plan is a good one unless it can change to fit the situation. We must study the possibilities to be able to flow with any of them. That is the key to success, that is the way we'll destroy the beasts.\"\n\nThe captains were told to bring their warriors to this village in four days, along with sufficient food and supplies. The local villagers would need to make room in their houses, so everything would appear as normal as possible, in case the beasts sent spies.\n\n\"In seven days, we will hold a rally at E-shandra.\"\n\n\"What is 'rally'?\" Itar asked.\n\n\"Everyone, from everywhere, comes together to prepare for war. We unite to become as one. I hope the queen will attend.\"\n\nItar closed his eyes and appeared to choose his words carefully before he opened them and spoke.\n\n\"I do not think the queen can...afford to not come.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 20\n\nANDERSON VENT ONE, AUSTRALIA\n\nORMISTON GORGE, WEST OF ALICE SPRINGS\n\nLATITUDE 23\u00b0 43' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE 133\u00b0 55' EAST\n\nLAPTITUDE 17%\n\nMonth 2, Day 28; 0100 UTC, 10:30 AM LTD\n\nJohn Severin looked past Amy's hardhat, through the chain-link of the cage he was in, and watched the infrared lights hung on the abyss wall as they whizzed by. The two-meter by two-meter enclosure had enough seating for six passengers.\n\n\"I hope this thing has brakes,\" Amy said. Her blue overalls were zipped shut against the cold.\n\n\"It has to move fast. Otherwise, it would take days to get down here,\" John replied, noticing that Amy's eyes looked tired and her usual perky attitude had mellowed.\n\n\"Yeah, but this thing is plunging!\" Amy said.\n\nA larger elevator passed them racing upward; red lights glowed eerily on its empty floor.\n\n\"Shouldn't be long now,\" John said, glancing at his watch.\n\nTheir speed decreased. John saw a huge florescent \"Level 10\" in orange block letters on the rock wall, and they bumped softly to a stop against the platform floor.\n\nA man in a hardhat and safety goggles unlocked the cage and the scissor door opened.\n\n\"Welcome to Level Ten,\" Bill Evans greeted them as he helped them out onto the wooden platform.\n\nThe foreman was wearing blue dungarees over stocky legs. A pack of Pall Mall cigarettes protruded from one rolled-up sleeve circling a massive bicep.\n\n\"What's the problem?\" John demanded.\n\n\"Problem?\"\n\n\"Why did you call us down here? What's holding up progress?\"\n\n\"Nothing, I hope. We should be able to build three platforms a week, if cable isn't in short supply.\"\n\nWhile John was talking with his employee, Amy was wandering around the sparsely furnished platform. Near the center was a table with two computers, a telephone and a glass dome covering an unlit blue light bulb. Two chairs were tucked under the table. Nearby was a drafting board covered with architectural drawings; a small white light illuminated the top draft. The rest of the platform held inventory: piles of coiled cable, pallets of boards and steel I-beams. A waist-high railing surrounded the square elevator shaft. A San-O-Let portable toilet stood past the far railing. She leaned out over the balustrade, peering into the darkness below.\n\n\"I wouldn't do that, unless you want your head removed by the next supply tram that goes by. They tend to zoom through here,\" Bill warned her.\n\nAmy straightened. \"So when will we get there and how long will it take?\"\n\n\"Number one, we don't know where 'there' is,\" Bill answered. \"You're standing eleven hundred kilometers below Earth's surface. This is the tenth platform we've built; we're working on eleven and twelve. I've tracked electronic birds down another thousand kilometers, so on the basis of that, we've got at least another ten platforms to go. Number two, let me show you a drawing.\"\n\nHe flipped through draft sheets, rolling them over the top of the board until he found the one he was looking for.\n\n\"Here it is. If Mr. Anderson is correct, somewhere along this line, gravity reverses.\"\n\nThe chart depicted Earth. He ran a finger down the radius.\n\n\"It's about 6330 kilometers to here.\" He pointed to the center of the circle. \"And we are here.\" Bill indicated a line that had \"17\" written next to it.\n\n\"Since we're on the tenth platform,\" John asked, \"what does this number seventeen mean?\"\n\n\"Good question,\" Bill said. \"Mr. Anderson calls it 'laptitude.' It means we are seventeen percent of the way to the core. Anderson hypothesized that gravity inverts along the radius at laptitude thirty-four. We now have the first concrete evidence that he's correct.\"\n\nJohn felt a tingle of excitement. \"How so?\"\n\n\"Perhaps a demonstration would be in order.\"\n\nBill rummaged through a duffel bag for a bird. He set one of the computers to tracking, turned on the bird and flung it over the railing. It sang as it disappeared into the darkness. Gathered around the computer, they watched as the digitized numbers rolled by, indicating depth and time, and logistic graphs flashed on the monitor. Two minutes, displayed in milliseconds, had ticked by on the screen before Amy sighed.\n\n\"How long is _this_ going to take?\" she asked, sounding bored.\n\n\"Got a hot date?\" Bill asked.\n\n\"Let's not go there!\" John snapped.\n\n\"I certainly wouldn't consider you hot,\" Amy told Bill, with a sneer.\n\n\"Enough!\" John said. \"Bill, get to the point.\"\n\n\"Okie-dokey. I'll show you what happened with an earlier bird while we're recording this one.\"\n\nHe started up the other computer and soon had both displaying the same graphs, though the bird being tracked on playback was nearing one thousand kilometers and a warning flashed across the monitor in red: _Reaching Maximum Tracking Distance._ Then the numbers stopped abruptly at one thousand and the screen read: _Lost Bird._\n\n\"And the point is?\" Amy asked.\n\n\"Yeah, that didn't seem peculiar to me, either, so I went and poured a cup of coffee. Then this happened.\"\n\nThe computer beeped and the text on the screen changed to: _Found Bird_. The digitized tracking numbers rolled backwards from 1000 to 999, 998, and 997. Then the numbers reversed and headed back up to 1000 kilometers. _Lost Bird_ was displayed again.\n\n\"This little bird is Bungee jumping with no rope attached. Back and forth, several times,\" Bill said.\n\nEven Amy seemed interested now. \"What finally happened to it?\"\n\n\"It stopped at 1000, hung there for a few minutes, and disappeared.\"\n\nThe computer beeped and _Found Bird_ flashed.\n\nJohn was awed by the implication. \"So, what you are saying, what this demonstration is proving, is that about 1000 kilometers below us\u2014\"\n\n\"Gravity reverses,\" Bill finished for him. \"But that's not all. The bird eventually stops and drifts away.\"\n\n\"Which means?\" Amy asked.\n\n\"No gravity,\" Bill said.\n\n\"Say again?\" John asked, mystified.\n\n\"At the interface, there's zero gravity.\"\n\nJohn mulled that over. \"What does Anderson make of it?\"\n\n\"He was particularly excited.\" Bill's face beamed around his goggles. \"And there's even more evidence.\"\n\nHe scrounged under the table and produced a digitized weight scale.\n\n\"This scale has been up and down the shaft several times, calibrated and recalibrated\u2014I thought the damn thing was going loco. We use it to weigh nuts and bolts to make sure they're the proper grade because we've been getting supplies from all over the world\u2014including China, Russia, and Indonesia\u2014and some of the stuff is poor quality. Do you know how much you weigh?\" he asked John.\n\n\"Two-ten. I've been two-ten for years.\"\n\n\"Is that in a suit, or just skives?\"\n\n\"Shorts only.\"\n\nBill placed the scale in front of John. \"Well, let's see how much you weigh here in a suit.\"\n\nWhen John stepped on, the digitized number rolled up to 165.4, then stopped.\n\n\"That diet seems to be working,\" Bill quipped. He removed his goggles, uncovering an uncontrollable eye tic. \"Three weeks, maybe four, and we'll be at zero gravity, if your boss keeps my bank account filled.\"\n\n\"Maybe we should ask him.\"\n\nJohn tried to meet Bill's stare, but the convulsive twitching was flicking Bill's left eye to the side and it was hard to watch. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Amy sat on the other chair.\n\nBill dialed the phone, then handed it to John.\n\n\"I've gotten you an outside line.\"\n\nJohn punched through a long string of international and personal security numbers. When the connection completed he said, \"John here, sir.\"\n\n\"Have you found my son?\"\n\n\"No, sir. I'm on Level Ten with Amy. We're talking with the foreman, who seems to know what he's doing. He says it's a minimum of ten more platforms, but I think it'll be at least twenty, maybe even more.\"\n\n\"Does he _seem_ to know what he's doing, or does he _know_ what he's doing?\"\n\nJohn glanced at Bill's eye spasms. \"Well, sir, he's the best we have.\"\n\n\"Dammit, John, get the job done! Find my son!\" Henry was shouting, forcing John to hold the receiver away from his ear. \"I don't care how much it costs. Get...the job...done!\"\n\n\"Five million should keep the ball rolling,\" John said calmly.\n\n\"You'll have it in five hours.\"\n\nJohn returned the receiver to Bill, telling him, \"Two weeks. Be at zero gravity in two weeks. Tell me what you need.\"\n\nHe heard a loud crackle of grinding rock, which caused Amy to leap up.\n\n\"What the hell was that?\" she gasped.\n\nBill appeared unconcerned. He sat in the unused seat. \"The vent is closing. Movement was pretty rapid at first, but now it's only a few centimeters a day. That reminds me: We need to reinforce the edges of platforms one and two, which were designed before we knew. The rest are on rollers.\"\n\nHe wrote out a list of supplies and handed it to John. The last two items were: Realign foundation of platforms one and two. Reestablish wall boundaries to fit existing void.\n\nBill said to Amy, \"I heard it's a circus up there, with sightseers and reporters camped out all over the desert.\"\n\n\"Calling it a circus is an understatement. What's that?\" She motioned at the dome-covered blue light bulb.\n\n\"That's the warning light. It's on every platform. If that baby comes on, it's time to clear out quickly. Don't even stop to ask why.\" His twitching eye was adding a note of absurdity.\n\nWhen Amy and John were escalating toward the surface, she asked, \"How can that man see?\"\n\nJohn said, \"His left eye is blind.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 21\n\nEDMONTON, ALBERTA, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE 53\u00b0 33' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 113\u00b0 31' WEST\n\nMonth 2, Day 29; 1500 UTC, 9:00 AM LTD\n\nMitch answered the telephone eagerly. \"Hello!\"\n\n\"Mallory here.\"\n\n\"Are we on our way, sir? Is it time to ship out?\"\"\n\n\"Sorry, Mitch, but no. If anything, the crap is getting deeper. If there isn't any break in negotiations, word is we'll be recalled in a week. It's a Mexican standoff; nobody's willing to move. Anyway, that's not why I called. I want to show you my dog. A car can pick you up in an hour.\"\n\n\"Fucking great\u2014not your dog, the stalemate,\" Mitch added quickly. \"That's fine by me, sir. I'll see you then.\"\n\nMitch exercised, showered, shaved and dressed in t-shirt and slacks, then sat on the end of his bed and waited to see a dog. He was just glad to have something to do.\n\nThe sedan drove him to an airport teeming with Canadian fighter jets, and continued to a back-lot hangar guarded by two Americans in Army uniforms toting machine guns.\n\nMitch's eyes adjusted slowly from the bright sunshine to the dull glow of the interior's fluorescent lighting, so he heard Mallory before he saw him.\n\n\"Hello, Mitch. How are you getting along living with the civilians?\"\n\n\"Just fine, sir.\"\n\nThe lieutenant's hair had been tied back in a French braid, and he wore a flower-printed shirt that hung loosely over his ample belly; between the multicolored petals was a map of the Hawaiian Islands, each identified by name. He had socks and sandals on his wide feet.\n\n\"I'm off duty,\" Mallory explained. \"Come see my dog.\"\n\nMitch couldn't see any dog in the mostly empty hangar\u2014only three uniformed men and a four-meter-long capsule. The shimmering, black fuselage of the capsule sported two-meter stubby wings that tapered into meter-long slim torpedoes running lengthwise. The clear Plexiglas hatch was open. At the aft end was a jet turbine. The bull-nosed stern had recessed headlamps. Inside was a leather seat and joystick. The control panel was loaded with gauges and had rows of LCD screens. Mitch realized this craft was Mallory's \"dog.\"\n\n\"Go on, hop in. See how she feels,\" Mallory said.\n\nMitch climbed over the short wing and settled into the cockpit seat, strapped on the harness, snapped and tightened the buckles. His legroom was limited by the array of electronics, but he was comfortable.\n\n\"She feels fucking good, sir!\" Mitch moved the stick around and \"vroomed\" to himself.\n\nMallory smiled. \"Try starting her up.\"\n\n\"How do I do that?\" Mitch fidgeted with toggle switches.\n\n\"With the key.\"\n\nMitch found and turned the key; the instrument panel gleamed, then darkened. He heard the turbine whining behind him. Each gauge flashed green in a progressive pulsing across the dash, then the entire panel glowed blue. LCD screens lightened, some displayed numerical functions.\n\nMitch grinned. \"All automatic?\"\n\n\"You bet.\"\n\nMitch switched off the key; the dash darkened and the turbine wound down.\n\n\"She's a real beauty,\" he said, climbing out of the cockpit.\n\nMallory closed the hatch, which hissed as it hermetically sealed.\n\n\"They were developed for deep sea exploration\u2014code-named F.I.S.H., an acronym for Fully Interdependent Submersible Hetaera,\" Mallory explained as they circled the dog. \"The main turbine and steering jets are powered by SSPS. At two hundred fathoms and swimming in formation, they are easily detected by sonar on the surface. The individual capsules can disperse, so from above, they seem to disappear\u2014ingenious for military use. Unoccupied capsules can be armed for detonation and one pilot can direct an entire school.\n\n\"The Army modified them so they could fly. I've test-piloted them for years, both at sea and in the air. They're best underwater; they're said to 'fly like a dog'\u2014hence the misnomer. But we're not going to be doing any aerial acrobatics when we get to that abyss. Just straight down and back again.\"\n\n\"How fast can it fly?\" Mitch asked, enthused.\n\n\"Mach four is as fast as I've pushed it.\"\n\n\"Sir, if I had a idea\u2014a way to get us going with Inuit approval, would you help me, you know, implement the plan?\"\n\n\"Have you been holding out on me?\" Mallory asked. \"If you've got an idea the combined United States and Canadian governments couldn't think of, I certainly wouldn't shut you down.\"\n\nMitch blushed. \"Well, sir\u2014yes, I have!\" He led Mallory away from the other men. \"I'd rather not explain everything right now, until I know if it has a chance. First, I have two favors to ask.\"\n\n\"Fire away.\"\n\n\"I need to contact Bearters; he'll know if my plan has a chance from his angle. Also, I need a copy of the report Jack Squires wrote while he was working for Colonel Wingert, about our last trip to Ellesmere Island.\"\n\n\"Are you planning something illegal?\" Mallory asked.\n\nMitch shifted his eyes. \"Well, sir, maybe a little. It involves Poker and sleight-of-hand.\"\n\nMallory hesitated for only a moment. \"If you can get us there, then you'll have my full cooperation. I'll get that report for you, and you can talk with Bearters now.\"\n\n\"Sir, how can I go on the mission if I can't drive a dog?\"\n\nMallory laughed. \"This is my dog, and except for Sergeant Crow, no one else here can operate one. If we go, we'll take eight: one each for Sergeant Crow, four infantry, you and me; the eighth one will be a cargo capsule for guns, ammunition, and supplies\u2014if we find Des, we'll jettison the cargo and use that dog to bring him back. But I'll control all eight. None of the other capsules will have any navigation equipment, so you and the others will simply follow me. Formation flying is automatic.\"\n\n\"You mean, we'll all follow you like a\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't say dog! Some fanatical animal rights group might take offense!\"\n\nThey both laughed.\n\nMallory led Mitch to an enclosed cubicle at the rear of the hangar. The stark furnishings included a wooden table with papers strewn on it and one chair. Mallory made a call.\n\n\"Bearters? Lieutenant Mallory here. I received the dossiers you sent on the Inuit Tribal Counsel. It's good work, but I'm afraid not much to go on.\" He listened, then responded, \"Well, maybe I can work that angle. There's someone here who would like to talk with you.\"\n\nHe handed the receiver to Mitch, who asked him, \"Is this line being monitored or recorded?\"\n\nMallory retrieved the phone. \"Seth, hang up. This is a Top Secret call. Code one-four-nine.\"\n\nWhen Mallory handed back the receiver, Mitch heard a voice say, \"Yes, sir,\" and a series of clicks.\n\n\"Sir, can I be alone?\"\n\nMallory nodded and closed the door as he left.\n\n\"Beaters?\"\n\n\"Mitch? How are you?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, but I'm worried about Des. I know he's alive, but we need to find him soon. Lieutenant Mallory is snagged down here in Edmonton. I've got an idea\u2014tell me what you think of this.\"\n\nAfter Mitch had outlined his plan, Bearters grunted.\n\n\"You'll be the one to catch the flack,\" Mitch finished.\n\nBearters laughed. \"You be my brother.\"\n\nMitch thought this meant he approved.\n\n\"Bearters, I am your brother.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 22\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3, Day 1; 0200 UTC, 8:00 AM LTD\n\nDes clasped his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling above Anastasia's bed.\n\n\"We need to test the poison,\" he said.\n\n\"Oh, Des. Not yet. The others arrive today.\"\n\nWhen she wrapped her naked body around his, her full implication hit him.\n\n\"I won't be sleeping with you?\" he asked.\n\n\"No. Too many guests.\"\n\nDes sighed. \"Are you sure it's today? I never met that timekeeper of yours.\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm sure, and I can take you to the timekeeper.\"\n\nDes added that to his mental checklist: See the timekeeper. Test the poison. Find room for all the guests. Survey the troops. Test the soundsticks. Stop sleeping with Anastasia. And, if he had time: check on Itar, work on his speech, visit Oom and maybe eat. It was shaping up to be a very busy day.\n\nSomeone called Anastasia from outside. She dressed quickly and left.\n\nDes turned on his side and pulled the wool comforter over his head, but soon heard Anastasia calling him.\n\n\"Coming,\" he replied.\n\nCount to ten and explode into the new day, Des decided. He counted, threw back the covers, bolted upright and put one foot on the stone floor.\n\nThe bed linens had barely missed two startled children standing next to the bed.\n\nDes stared at them, and then past them to a wide-bodied woman who quickly covered the children's eyes with her palms. Anastasia stood next to her. \"Des, this is my sister, Bethenna, and her children, Em and Niko.\"\n\nAnastasia hadn't mentioned family arriving, yet here was a sister. Her face drooped disapprovingly above her extra-large, sunburst-patterned toga. Des thought that if she were smiling, she might resemble Anastasia...a little. Bethenna's fingers were nearly suffocating her daughter and son, who Des guessed to be five and seven. He decided to make the best of it.\n\n\"Pleased to meet you,\" he said, standing up and extending a hand to Bethenna, completely forgetting that he was naked.\n\nNeither of her hands moved, but her eyes did. She looked appraisingly at his crotch, then gazed pointedly at the ceiling while Anastasia suppressed a smile.\n\n\"We'll wait outside while you get dressed,\" Anastasia said, ushering out her family members.\n\n_Jeez,_ Des thought, _what a great way to meet my intended bride's family._ He dressed quickly and got his sound system, which would be needed for the rally at E-shandra.\n\nAnastasia was alone in the kitchen\u2014Bethenna had apparently seen enough of him.\n\n\"I think she liked you,\" Anastasia said with a grin.\n\n\"Yeah, I always make a great first impression,\" Des replied.\n\nThey left and walked down the mountain. Des noticed that the village bustled with new people. He tried to concentrate on war preparation, but Anastasia couldn't stop talking.\n\n\"Smell the flowers, Des. Don't they smell sweet?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"Look at the ocean. Isn't it beautiful?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"Can Adeyo bring drums to the rally?\"\n\n\"Yes. Lots of drums.\"\n\n\"The queen will attend,\" said Anastasia.\n\nDes stopped. \"What?\"\n\nAnastasia smiled. \"The queen will attend the rally.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes, I am sure.\"\n\nThings were falling into place. \"I really need to work on that speech.\"\n\nE-shandra was packed; there were hundreds of warriors on the sand floor. Some captains had their groups practicing moves with war clubs; others were blowing darts into targets of papyrus on baled straw from forty meters away.\n\nDes climbed the steps to one of the 5-by-18-meter wooden platforms, which swayed from his weight\u2014there was no railing. The bench seats were five meters below and behind him\u2014close to, but not touching, the platform's supporting beams. The platform extended towards the center so the far edge was twenty meters above the wooden benches; it was suspended from the domed ceiling by thick hemp rope attached at its corners. A causeway and six steps led from the platform to an oval doorway and a room fifteen meters square. Through the room was another doorway with a wooden staircase descending to the beach. Across the stadium was an identical rostrum with a doorway that led to another small room, seventy meters away from Des.\n\nHe hung a soundstick on each rope as high as he dared to reach. Holding the microphone in one hand and the sound pack in the other, he turned it on.\n\n\"Testing.\"\n\nThe soundsticks squealed with feedback. A few warriors looked up from the stadium floor, worried.\n\nDes turned off the sound pack, removed the speakers and retreated towards the causeway. He swung to the planks below, and hung speakers in the rafters on each side, so they were eighty meters apart, as warriors watched him from below.\n\nBack on the platform, he clipped the microphone onto his shirt and placed the sound pack in the pocket of his shorts. He flipped on the switch and rolled the volume to maximum.\n\n\"Your attention, please.\" His voice reverberated around the arena. Everyone on the floor stood motionless and gawked. A war club or two dropped to the sand.\n\n\"The owner of snow Glider Three, snow Glider Three: Your lights are on. Ladies and gentlemen, today's program is brought to you by me; I am Des.\" He raised his hand.\n\nThere was a chorus of \"Yes, sir!\" from below.\n\nDes sang and moved around the platform as if it were a stage. \"When I was a little bitty baby, my mama would rock me in the cradle.\" He threw out a fist towards the roof.\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" Even the new ones were shouting now.\n\n\"In those cotton fields back home.\" Up went his fist.\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" reverberated around the stadium.\n\n\"That's the end of today's show.\" Des turned his back to them.\n\nSuddenly, he jumped around to face them, crouching low with his feet wide apart; whipping his arms, he shouted, \"Yi, yi, yi, yi!\"\n\nThey exploded back with \"Yi, yi, yi!\"\n\nDes went to the floor, going from group to group, pumping up their emotions. He slapped hands, touched the arms of unfamiliar warriors and patted the backs of those he recognized.\n\nOne group was bashing fruit propped up on logs with their war clubs. Des stopped to watch.\n\n\"Na, na, na!\" he scolded.\n\nHe commandeered a war club. First, he pointed at his temple, then at the side of an orange. In slow motion, he swung the club towards the fruit, then over the top and past it.\n\n\"Stand back, stand back.\" He motioned to them. \"Come on, it's like baseball\u2014hit 'em hard and follow through. Hey, batter-batter, swing!\" Des hit the orange with force; it flew through the air and landed thirty meters away. \"Make it fly!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" the warrior said as Des returned her war club.\n\nAl\u00e9e's warriors were working with dart guns.\n\n\"You can do it, B`ahta! Come on, blow! Anastasia, tell her to blow harder.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia translated, Al\u00e9e clucked mercilessly at B`ahta.\n\nB`ahta made a sour face, then puffed into the gun. The dart plopped out directly in front of her.\n\nDes picked up the dart and glared at B`ahta. \"You're...not trying!\" He reloaded her gun. \"Anastasia, tell her that she has to blow harder. Puffing is okay, but she should puff with more force.\"\n\nHe handed the gun to B`ahta while Anastasia translated.\n\nB`ahta puffed; again, the dart fell to the sand.\n\nAnastasia rolled her eyes and Des grimaced. He shrugged in resignation.\n\n\"Anastasia, tell B`ahta I have a more important job for her. I need a lookout on the beach, near the water, someone who can be inconspicuous.\"\n\n\"What is inconspicuous?\" Anastasia asked.\n\n\"Blend in and not arouse suspicion. This person would watch for the beasts and alert us when they are coming. It's a very important task; everything relies on it. Ask her if she feels up to such a significant job.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia translated, B`ahta straightened her back, raised her chin and smiled.\n\n\"Yi.\"\n\n\"Anastasia, tell her to stay on the beach and figure out how best to be inconspicuous. She should also think of a signal to relay that the beasts are coming.\"\n\nB`ahta's short, round form left E-Shandra. Des was amazed she could actually lift and carry her war club.\n\n\"Des, I thought Adeyo was the watcher for the beasts?\" Anastasia asked.\n\n\"Well, yes, but in the war business, it's always good to have back-up. Besides, it will give B`ahta a job to do that she can be proud of.\"\n\n\"What is back-up?\"\n\n\"An extra person doing the same thing. Now we have eyes both on the mountain and on the beach to watch for beasts. Let's get to work. How do you say, 'I want to touch you'?\"\n\n\"Oh, Des,\" Anastasia said.\n\n\"No, really, I want to know.\"\n\nDes drank from a stream, his only sustenance that day. They'd left the village and walked along the coast in the opposite direction from Oom's hut.\n\n\"How much farther is the timekeeper?\"\n\n\"Not far,\" Anastasia called back to him.\n\nThey soon came to a river too deep and too swift to ford. Anastasia led him on a climb three hundred meters up from the beach. She stopped by a mountain cleft partially covered by foliage.\n\n\"Is there food inside?\" Des asked.\n\n\"Who could be hungry with all that is happening?\" she asked, puzzled.\n\nDes raised his hand, but she had already disappeared inside the cleft.\n\nDes called into the opening, \"Are there any peligroso animals in there? Anastasia? Yoo-hoo?\"\n\nThe opening led to a downward-sloping tunnel lit by torches. Des felt soft soil underfoot.\n\n\"Who keeps the torches lit?\" he asked when he caught up with Anastasia.\n\n\"The timekeeper expects us.\"\n\nApparently you don't meet the timekeeper unannounced.\n\nThe passageway was two hundred meters long. It opened into a limestone cave one hundred fifty meters in diameter pillared with stalactites and stalagmites which rose a meter from the sandy ground. Des moved among them to the center of the cavern, where he saw a circle of rectangular upright slabs of granite fifteen meters tall. These were joined at their tops by granite beams four meters thick and twenty meters long; above them was darkness. Des heard only the sputtering of torches and a gentle swooshing sound.\n\n\"This is where the timekeeper lives?\" His voice echoed, muffled.\n\nWhen it faded, there was again only the sputtering of dozens of torches and a distinct whoosh. Something\u2014or someone\u2014was slipping ghost-like around the stone formations, flowing past them, then appearing elsewhere.\n\nAnastasia began, \"He is\u2014\"\n\n\"Shy,\" Des said. \"Tell him I won't harm him.\"\n\nA specter approached, his thin four-meter-high form enhanced by an ankle-length feather robe fluttering behind him. He had waist-length, flowing white hair, and his complexion was paler than Des' and furrowed by deep wrinkles.\n\n\"Des, this is the timekeeper,\" Anastasia said.\n\nThe timekeeper stood silently for only a second, then disappeared.\n\nAnastasia led Des over to the granite columns whose lintel stones formed a circle eighty meters in diameter; the columns were fifteen meters apart. The inside surfaces of both columns and lintels were laminated with magnetite, and the slightly concave sand floor was etched with parallel lines.\n\nDes guessed each lintel weighed two hundred and fifty tons; he wondered how they had been lifted.\n\nA meter-wide spiculate lodestone, suspended by rope anchored somewhere far above the lit portion of the cavern walls, whooshed across the sand, just missing a pillar before receding towards the other side. The pendulum had drawn a parallel line in the sand adjacent to the others.\n\n\"Des?\"\n\n\"Hold on. Let me think.\"\n\nThis archaic clock fascinated him. The pendulum had traced a scalloped edge\u2014Des thought each arc was one degree of the circle's circumference. Pointing to the last-completed scallop, he said, \"This is yesterday.\"\n\n\"Abba.\"\n\n\"High noon, lunchtime.\" He rested his finger outside the arc's apogee.\n\nAnastasia smiled.\n\n_One degree, one day,_ Des thought excitedly. He swooped his hand around the entire circle. \"This is one year. One year, to return to here.\"\n\n\"Abba,\" Anastasia said.\n\nThere were 360 degrees in a circle, and 365 days in a year. That was pretty damn close. And maybe the Earth's rotation around the sun added a fudge-factor that would make this clock as accurate as his Timex. The timekeeper was measuring time through magnetism. Des remembered that he was directly beneath the magnetic North Pole, so he was on the \"bar\" of the magnet of Earth. Was that important to the lodestone pendulum, or was it simply being pulled around the circle by the magnetite on the columns and lintels?\n\n\"Beautiful, magnificent.\" Des noticed the tall figure had appeared again, behind Anastasia, so he directed his comments to the native. \"Excellent. Simply amazing. I am impressed!\"\n\nThe timekeeper folded his arms and bowed.\n\n\"And the years...do you keep a record of the number of years?\" Des asked.\n\nAnastasia showed Des two marble tablets held at chest height by a marble column. He examined the unfamiliar marking system.\n\n\"What is ten years?\" he asked.\n\nAnastasia indicated a down slash followed by a horizontal stroke gouged into the marble surface.\n\n\"One hundred years?\"\n\nShe pointed to a down slash followed by two horizontal strokes.\n\nDes guessed it was a binomial system. One tablet was devoted to counting single years, and the other had grouped years. He added the recorded time: One hundred, two hundred, five hundred, one thousand, fifteen hundred. He kept counting. When he'd finished, he was convinced the tablets represented over six thousand years!\n\nBut Anastasia's ancestors had fallen from the Earth's surface only five hundred years ago, during Spanish exploration. Whose ancestors began tracking time here?\n\n\"Can we come here again? I have questions I'd like to ask, once I think about what I've seen today,\" he asked her.\n\n\"Anytime.\"\n\n\"Please thank the timekeeper for showing me his clock.\"\n\nAs they were leaving, Des reflected that this machine was somehow familiar, something that was deeply imbedded in his memory. Standing sarsens, holding up lintels, curved in a circle.\n\nThen he stopped in amazement, recalling the glossy photographs in an archeological magazine. What was different here? The pendulum rope and supporting wooden structure would have been burned or rotted away by time, the magnetite and lodestone stripped for other uses. Add centuries of decay to the encircling stones, erosion and earthquakes. This had to be the same. The photographs had been the ancient, mysterious stone circles in Britain. Des now knew they were constructed to chart more than mid-summer and mid-winter by the stars. No matter what else had happened there, or was buried there, the elemental purpose was to measure time.\n\nStonehenge was a clock. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 23\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3, Day 1; 1310 UTC, 7:10 PM LTD\n\nDes knew it was well past dinnertime when they reached the village; he was ravenous.\n\nAnastasia's sister blocked the doorway, her tapping foot an ominous sign. Bethenna allowed Anastasia to pass, but stepped in front of Des with a frown. She retrieved his pack from just inside the door and thrust it into his chest, then she went inside.\n\nFine measure of a woman, Des thought, throwing me out of my own home. He was incensed, and his hunger rose pitilessly; the sum total of his day's meals had been water from a stream. He was also tired and sweaty and wanted to soak in a bath.\n\nDes went to the side of the house. Using his pack as a pillow, he lay down on the stone bench and closed his eyes, then he heard someone approaching. He opened his eyes. Bethenna's children each held a banana, which they offered to him.\n\n\"Ah, e-yah-ho,\" Des said, accepting the fruit, which he devoured as they watched. \"E-yah-ho, good.\"\n\nSome great general he was\u2014no place to live and reduced to taking food from children.\n\nHe was still ravenous. He stared at the peels, then ate them, too.\n\nThe kids were aghast: eyes wide, mouths open.\n\n_So, they think I'm an oddity._ Des scratched his beard, his chest, and then his sides. \"Woo, woo, woo, woo, woo!\" He made noises like a monkey.\n\nInstead of being amused, the children screamed and ran.\n\nHe lay back on the bench, thinking about how he could ask Bethenna for Anastasia's hand, particularly after having made such a great first impression. If Anastasia's sister wouldn't approve of him, he'd just have to get used to outlaw in-laws.\n\nHe drifted into sleep.\n\nSometime later, someone touched his face and he bolted upright. It was Anastasia.\n\n\"They have left. You can bathe now.\"\n\nDes focused groggily. \"Left? Where?\"\n\n\"Gone for awhile.\"\n\nDes stood and hobbled wearily through the door. Anastasia left him alone. He undressed and stepped into the tub; the water was warm and soothing. Anastasia brought in a tray with fruit and nuts and papaya juice. He consumed all of it.\n\nHe dunked his head underwater\u2014life was getting better. When he resurfaced, Anastasia was there, naked and wet, kissing him. She rubbed flower essence on his back, chest and stomach.\n\n\"Can't we just kick your sister out?\" Des moaned, lathering up her breasts with suds.\n\n\"No, Des,\" she cooed.\n\n\"Maybe I could take her out to dinner and, you know, butter her up,\" he suggested.\n\nAnastasia looked shocked. \"You would eat my sister?\"\n\nDes howled with laughter. \"That might be a good idea, but no, I won't eat your sister. But maybe I'll nibble on you!\"\n\nHe kissed her hungrily. When he entered her, she sighed deeply.\n\nThe floor got soaked.\n\nDes walked with five warriors, Al\u00e9e and Anastasia to a small, grassy clearing outside the village where an old cow was tethered to a post. He could see the open sores on her legs from sixty meters away.\n\n\"Hit her here,\" Des said, slapping his rump.\n\nAl\u00e9e nodded.\n\nDes motioned for the others to squat down.\n\nAl\u00e9e put the loaded dart gun to her mouth. She blew, there was a thunk; the cow bellowed and swished her tail.\n\nDes could see the poisoned projectile sticking out of the cow's hindquarters as she continued eating. He waited a long three minutes. The cow just chewed her cud.\n\n\"Well, now we know. We better start working on plan 'B'.\"\n\nDes turned to leave, motioning for the others to follow.\n\n\"Des,\" Anastasia called from behind him.\n\nThe ground shook; he turned.\n\nThe cow was down, all four legs rigidly extended, dead.\n\nDes bowed his head. \"We had to know,\" he told Anastasia.\n\nAl\u00e9e's troops covered the cow with sticks and branches. Soon, the carcass was engulfed in flames. As the fire spiraled skyward, Des was grim. He knew the dead, dumb animal was symbolic of what was to come. Some of his warriors would certainly die in the upcoming battle.\n\nHis warriors. He sat cross-legged, a blade of grass between his teeth.\n\nAl\u00e9e squatted close to Des as Anastasia and the others piled more branches on the smoking carcass. She patted Des' knee. Her beautiful, dark eyes were filled with determination as she nodded.\n\n'Asa ni-ca saya!\" Anastasia said, hurrying back to Des, her complexion reddened.\n\nAl\u00e9e rose, but Des was deep in thought and hardly noticed.\n\n\"Anastasia, tell Al\u00e9e I want her warriors in the water today. They need to test their weight belts and learn how to breathe through the bamboo.\"\n\nAnastasia translated; Al\u00e9e nodded.\n\nDes continued, \"Tell her we need rope to climb into the boats. Also, grappling hooks, something to grab onto the boats and keep the ropes taut. And pouches to keep the darts and poison dry.\"\n\nAnastasia spoke. Both women tensed.\n\nDes looked from one to the other, slightly confused. \"Does she understand?\"\n\n_\"She understands,\"_ Anastasia said through clenched teeth, her face flushed.\n\n\"Tell her we need teams of two\u2014only the best. I need the best at climbing, the best at swimming underwater, and the best at shooting dart guns. Teams of two will stay together to protect each other. Two teams will climb onto each boat, one from either side. After they're on and secure, six more teams follow them. Sixteen warriors on a boat, forty-eight in all.\"\n\nAnastasia spoke and Al\u00e9e glared.\n\n\"When all the warriors have boarded, they move forward, find the most important beasts, the captains, and shoot them. Then they must quickly swim away. We'll need fishing boats stationed out at sea for them to swim to. Can the beasts swim?\"\n\n\"Abba,\" Anastasia snapped.\n\nDes wondered why she seemed so angry. \"The rest of Al\u00e9e's warriors will attack with war clubs any beasts that follow.\"\n\nThe cow sizzled and the smell of cooking beef began to make Des' mouth water. He tried to ignore stray fantasies of barbecue.\n\nAl\u00e9e said something to Anastasia that sounded like a retort.\n\nAnastasia eyes narrowed. \"Des, she wants to know if she can speak at the rally.\"\n\n\"Absolutely! Of course she can.\"\n\n\"She wants to know if she can speak with the thunder sticks.\"\n\nDes smiled. \"Anyone who speaks can use the soundsticks. Oh, by the way, have you seen Itar?\"\n\n\"Yes, he is feeling better.\"\n\n\"Ask Itar if he would speak at the rally; that would be great. Also, ask Al\u00e9e to bring all the captains to Say-ance today at noon. She should leave two warriors here to finish up, and the rest should go down to the water. Also, tell her that, when they are on the beast boats, to light fires to create chaos.\"\n\n\"Chaos?\"\n\n\"Yeah. They should do it silently, completely quiet, like a silent breeze. Does she know silence?\"\n\nAnastasia clicked her tongue and shook her head. \"Of course we know silence.\" If anyone needed lessons in silence, it would be Des.\n\n\"Sorry, love, you don't have to translate the silence thing. I know she knows.\"\n\nAnastasia and Des walked down to the beach. She still seemed troubled, but his mind was miles away, trying to put together a proper defense against the beasts\u2014contingencies and plans.\n\n\"Des, you know Al\u00e9e is my best friend,\" Anastasia began, her voice unsteady.\n\n\"Well, then she is my best friend, too,\" Des replied somewhat absently.\n\n\"Best friends don't...\"\n\nFinally noticing that she was befuddled, Des withdrew from his mental engagement with the enemy.\n\n\"What are you trying to say?\"\n\n\"I know we cannot stay together\u2014\" she said.\n\n\"It's only temporary.\"\n\n\"No. You don't understand.\"\n\n\"Understand what?\"\n\nHer face contorted with frustration. \"Al\u00e9e is a good choice.\"\n\n\"I understand you are concerned about Al\u00e9e, but I'll watch over her, keep her out of harm's way as much as possible, but remember that she is a warrior, a leader. I like her a lot, she has many admirable...characteristics.\" When this didn't appear to calm Anastasia, he added, \"By the way, I'm making arrangements for a place to stay. I can't sleep on that stone bench, and I realize that you can't kick your sister out. Besides, it's only temporary; it won't be so bad.\" He patted her ass.\n\n\"Not so bad for you,\" she whispered.\n\nDes stopped at a large rock outcropping that projected into the sea and sat on a flat stone. He pulled out parchment and pen from his backpack.\n\n\"Now, how do you say\u2014\"\n\nAnastasia squatted. \"This again? I'm tired of your speech. Do you want to play?\" She rubbed his feet.\n\nDes barely noticed. \"How do you say, 'If the enemy advances, we retreat. If the enemy camps, we harass. If the enemy tires, we attack. If the enemy retreats, we pursue.'\"\n\n\"Oh, Des, this is so hard,\" she complained.\n\nAs she worked through the translation, Des transcribed, with the Anasazi phonetics above, and the English translation underneath. He hoped he would do justice to Mao's philosophy of war.\n\n\"How about, 'Wars are, of course, as a rule to be avoided, but they are far better than certain kinds of peace.'\" He thought Teddy would be proud to be quoted in this speech.\n\nDes continued to press Anastasia with historical war quotes he'd learned from his militant high school history teacher, and she stumbled through the translations.\n\nHe ended with, \"'United, we stand; divided, we fall.'\"\n\n\"You are finished?\" Anastasia asked.\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"Read it to me,\" she said.\n\n\"No, not yet. I have to practice and get the lines right, then I'll read it to you. Besides, it's time for the captains' meeting at Say-ance.\"\n\nThe meeting lasted for four hours as they discussed plans and contingencies. Each captain spoke, and Anastasia translated.\n\nDes walked Anastasia home. Al\u00e9e followed behind them.\n\nBethenna was planted firmly on the porch.\n\nDes clasped Anastasia's hand. \"Good night, my dear.\"\n\n\"Good night.\" Anastasia hesitated, then went inside.\n\nDes continued walking toward the village with Al\u00e9e, when he heard Anastasia scream his name.\n\nShe burst past her sister, nearly knocking her over, and ran into Des, pushing him backward. She kissed him hard, with both arms and one leg wrapped tightly around him. When she finished the kiss, she continued to hold him, glowering at Al\u00e9e.\n\nDes was flabbergasted by her weird behavior. \"I'll be back tomorrow morning. It's not like I'm going far.\"\n\nTears filled Anastasia's eyes. She let him go and ran back, past her sister.\n\nDes stayed in Oom's hut that night. He delivered his speech to Oom, and Oom had seemed quite enthusiastic. Des knew it was a killer speech.\n\nHe didn't know Oom would be the only person who would ever hear it. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 24\n\nEDMONTON, ALBERTA, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE 53\u00b0 33' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 113\u00b0 30' WEST\n\nMonth 3, Day 3; 0330 UTC, 9:30 AM LTD\n\nMitch pressed the phone receiver hard against his ear, straining to hear; the line sounded hollow. He had explained his plan three times to Colonel Wingert because Wingert kept saying, \"Tell me again.\"\n\n\"Sir?\" Mitch finally prompted.\n\n\"Yes, I'm here. I'm thinking. Can we trust Bearters with this? Jack said he was loyal to the Inuits.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I have that report here, but I'm convinced that we _can_ trust Bearters. He's in this up to his fucking eyeballs. I'd trust him with my life.\"\n\nMallory beamed a smile at Mitch from across the room.\n\nMitch added to Wingert, \"I've come up with the name 'Operation Scorpion' for it.\"\n\n\"Because of the sting?\" the colonel asked.\n\n\"Yes sir, because of the sting.\"\n\nThe phone was quiet for several seconds before Mitch heard Wingert sigh and say, \"Let me see if I have this straight: You want me to withdraw the negotiating team from Nunavut and tell the Inuits it's over, that we decided not to pursue this mission because the Australians are too far ahead.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"And, without the USA standing next to them, the Canadians will also withdraw?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Bearters confirmed that they would\u2014they need our money.\"\n\n\"So, we're to give you two checks for one million dollars each, and we're just going to trust that you do right by us?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I'll return the money if the plan doesn't work.\"\n\nWingert grunted. \"And you want the helicopters recalled?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, all but one. Lieutenant Mallory can handpick a special-forces team for that one. And don't forget the paint.\"\n\n\"You know, the Australians are about to reach zero gravity,\" Wingert said.\n\n\"Yes, sir. The lieutenant told me. You have nothing to lose but two weeks, I'll swear to it. The vents have closed only a few centimeters this past week, so things seem pretty stable for now; maybe Anderson was right about that. And the original expedition members are vested in finding Des.\"\n\n\"Vent stability could change.\"\n\n\"Yes sir, it could.\"\n\nThere was more dead air over the phone line, then Wingert said, \"Let me think this over. There are some others I need to contact.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nAfter Mitch hung up, Mallory asked, \"Well?\"\n\n\"He's thinking...maybe yes, maybe no. What do we do now?\"\n\n\"If you sit on a plan, it won't happen. We move all the needed equipment to B-37, then I'll reassign flight crews. Once I get the new team on B-37, I'll brief them. After that, we retrofit the false doors. What we do now, Mitch, is prepare.\"\n\nMitch and Mallory were sharing drinks with two Canadians at the officers' club that evening when there was a sharp rap on the door. Sergeant Crow entered with an envelope in his hand. Mitch tensed; he knew a decision had been made.\n\n\"Sir, orders,\" the sergeant said, snapping to attention.\n\nMallory opened the envelope, read the orders, then showed them to Sergeant Crow, who saluted and left.\n\n\"What was that all about?\" one of the Canadians asked.\n\nMallory pulled on his beer, then banged the empty glass against the table. He pushed his chair back noisily. All eyes were on him.\n\n\"Damn. Mitch, take a look at this.\"\n\nMitch suppressed a smile as he read the terse note: \"Lieutenant Mallory, operation abandoned. All personnel are to immediately return to base.\" And, just before Colonel Wingert's signature: \"Operation Scorpion, get cracking.\"\n\n\"What does it say?\" the Canadian pressed.\n\nMallory replied, \"We've been recalled\u2014it's over. The USA is not going to be pushed around by the Inuits anymore.\"\n\nWithin thirty minutes, the flight crews had boarded the helicopters. The sky crane lifted and headed south and the Chinooks followed\u2014all except one. B-37's engines whined, but its rotors did not turn.\n\n\"Lieutenant, we have a red light up front,\" Sergeant Crow said.\n\n\"Inform our hosts that the damn engines now have trouble,\" Mallory told Crow.\n\nWhen the sergeant had moved forward, Mitch said to Mallory, \"Their trouble is with us.\"\n\nThey both laughed.\n\nIt took four days for Mitch to obtain permission to reenter Inuit territory. He took a commercial flight to Denver, where he met with Thomas Backhouse, the president of his company. Mitch handed Backhouse a U.S. Treasury check for one million dollars, which Backhouse exchanged for a certified check for one million dollars drawn on the corporate account of Boster Denton, Inc., payable to the Inuit Nation Council.\n\nBy the time Mitch had returned to Edmonton, Mallory had secured another top-secret hangar, where painters were busy spraying the masked fuselage of the Chinook with Polar Bear White. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 25\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3; Day 4, 0230 UTC, 8:30 AM LTD\n\nOom shook Des' shoulder gently.\n\nDes had spent two nights on the cot at Oom's. He missed Anastasia's featherbed, but not nearly as much as he missed Anastasia.\n\nHis stomach growled. Breakfast at Oom's could be summed up in one word: meager. Des was not looking forward to another meal that left him hungrier than before he'd eaten. How could he starve and still lead troops? How could Oom survive on what he ate?\n\nDes swung his feet to the floor and noticed that Oom seemed to be excited. What could he be up to?\n\nIn the main room, Des saw a huge watermelon on the table. It might not be very filling, but at least there was a lot of it\u2014and, apparently, Oom was proud of his find. He posed behind the table with his back straight and his jaw tilted up. He held the pose for a few more seconds, then smiled. He raised the gleaming blade of his sword, and slid it through the melon without any pressure.\n\n_\"Holy smokes,_ you did it!\" Des gasped.\n\nOom handed the steel sword to Des. The blade was cast without pits or notches.\n\nDes held it over his head. \"Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi!\"\n\nThunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. Like a practiced chef at a Japanese restaurant, Des sliced the watermelon, then skewered a piece and offered it to Oom.\n\nThey laughed.\n\n\"Come outside,\" Des said.\n\nThere, Des placed his feet wide apart and circled the tip of the sword in front of him, feeling like a samurai.\n\n\"A-ye-ee!\" He swooshed the sword back and forth, up and down. \"Aye-yah!\"\n\nWhen he spun around, he saw Al\u00e9e standing there.\n\n\"Follow me,\" she said in English.\n\n\"No, Al\u00e9e, not now. Come back for me at noon.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e motioned for him to follow, but when Des again refused, she left in resignation.\n\n\"Come on, Oom, show me how.\"\n\nThey worked and ate watermelon for the next three hours. Oom pounded the iron pellets on his table while Des pulverized the charcoal. Then they charged and fired the furnace with each of them working a bellows. Des got hot, sweaty and covered in soot, but he was content.\n\n\"Oom, today's the big day. There's a rally at E-shandra. Big speech. I need to get cleaned up.\" He made motions of scrubbing himself.\n\nOom nodded and retrieved a bar of soap and a sea sponge from his hut, then pointed at the sea.\n\nDes bathed, then lay naked on a flat rock to dry. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.\n\n\"Des.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e stood behind him.\n\n\"Oh my God, I must be late.\"\n\nHe dressed and ran his fingers through his long hair, conscious of Al\u00e9e's eyes on him.\n\nAs they walked towards E-shandra, Des removed the small wooden ring box from his pocket and opened it.\n\n\"Hey, Al\u00e9e, take a look at this.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e smiled. \"Anastasia?\"\n\n\"Abba,\" Des said. He pocketed the ring.\n\nWhen they were almost at E-shandra, Des was startled to see tables and chairs on the beach. Thousands of women were feasting, drums were beating, and dancers dressed in silk and sequined tunics snaked past crowded tables piled with mountains of food.\n\nDes made a beeline for the food while keeping an eye out for Anastasia. He found her holding an earthenware pitcher in each hand. When their eyes met, she hoisted one of the pitchers into the air. Whoops emanated from tables filled with laughing women.\n\nDes saw Bethenna at the head of one long table, rapping the knuckles of her children with her spive when they tried to eat with their hands. She seemed to be in good spirits, but her children appeared subdued.\n\nDes tried not to eat too ravenously, but he was so famished, he bolted his food. Gymnasts did cartwheels past his table. A smiling dancer leaned backward towards Des while moving to the beat of the drums; her swaying breasts mesmerized him.\n\nHis trance was broken by a cold sensation on his shorts.\n\nAnastasia was standing over him; she had poured coconut juice in his lap.\n\n\"Oh, I am sorry,\" she said, slamming a mug onto the table. \"I seem to have missed.\"\n\nThe nearest warriors whooped with laughter.\n\n\"Women,\" Des scoffed.\n\nThe drums grew louder, then they all stopped on some unseen cue. One drum began a somber beat that quickened in time. The drums were rolling now, from lows to highs. Eight drummers played, with Adeyo and his woman standing in the middle. Adeyo really had those skins popping. When they finished, Des joined everyone whooping loudly in appreciation.\n\nThe drumming and dancing continued as people drifted into E-shandra. Des climbed the outside stairs and went through the small room onto the platform inside. The microphone had been affixed to a wooden stand. He switched it on.\n\n\"Testing, one, two, testing.\"\n\nThe sound boomed around the arena. Des turned off the mike and looked across the coliseum. The other platform held an ornate chair fit for a queen. Everything was in place and he was ready, except...\n\nHe had forgotten to bring his speech! It was still at Oom's. He wheeled around and found Anastasia seated in the small room, looking angry.\n\n\"Have you kissed her?\" she asked.\n\n\"Who?\" Des asked, confused.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e!\"\n\nOnly two nights away from him, and she had already conjectured the worst. \"Anastasia, who helps and watches over Itar?\"\n\n\"His guards.\"\n\nDes guessed that she thought he was merely changing the subject. He continued to explain. \"There are a lot of new faces in the village, and I don't know them\u2014you might, but I don't. If I'm supposed to lead in this war, Itar thought rightly, that I should have some protection.\"\n\n\"Al\u00e9e is your guard?\"\n\nDes fingered the wooden box in his pocket, but this was not the right time or place, so he just replied, \"Abba.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nDes wrapped his arms around her. \"You know I love only you, but I must go find my speech; I left it with Oom. Al\u00e9e will follow, but it's only to guard me.\"\n\nHe walked Anastasia outside onto the top of the stairway and indicated Bethenna, who was still eating. Ray-na was standing behind her, war club in hand. May-lee sat at the bottom of the steps.\n\n\"Look. You are being guarded, too. It's only until I'm sure that everyone is safe.\"\n\nDes kissed Anastasia, then trotted down the steps. Bethenna playfully spived him in the butt as he passed.\n\nAl\u00e9e followed Des back to Oom's hut.\n\nOom wasn't there and Des searched for his speech until he thought it was nearly time for the event to begin. He concluded he would have to wing it\u2014too bad, the speech would have been a killer. He motioned to Al\u00e9e that he was leaving.\n\nJust then, Oom appeared, holding Des' pack.\n\n\"Thank you, thank you so much!\" Des buried his head against Oom's chest. When he pulled away, he had jagged streaks of charcoal on each side of his face, but nobody told him.\n\nDrums were beating inside E-shandra, accompanied by chanting, war whoops and whistles.\n\nDes found Itar sitting between his guards in the anteroom.\n\n\"We are a little late. I thought I might have to do this alone,\" Itar said.\n\nAn old woman was standing on the platform inside, speaking through the microphone in a staccato voice. From what Des could understand, she seemed opposed to war. She was shouting to be heard over the din of drumbeats and warrior cries. It was a hard crowd to please if you didn't want to kill beasts. The old woman finished and stared coldly at Des and Itar as she left.\n\nThe sound level rose further with the beating of war clubs against wooden seats, louder drumming and chanting.\n\nAl\u00e9e bowed to Itar and Des, then walked out onto the platform, holding her war club high over her head. The noise from below became even more frantic. She spoke a few words into the microphone, which Des didn't understand, but by the time she'd finished, the drums were pounding mercilessly and the sound of voices was fever-pitched.\n\nDes hugged Al\u00e9e when she returned, her face filled with pride.\n\n\"Tough act to follow,\" he said.\n\nItar said, \"Oh, well. I try.\"\n\nItar's guards helped him to stand and handed him his canes. He hobbled out towards the platform. A thunderous roar from the crowd greeted his appearance. Itar stopped to rest, then dropped his canes! He inched forward to the microphone, held both hands high over his head and waved. The response was deafening.\n\nItar quieted them and spoke. Though his speech was brief, Des could see his legs were shaking with the effort of standing.\n\nDes ordered the old man's guards, \"Go and get him now.\"\n\nThey reached Itar just as his legs gave way, and supported him at the mike while he finished. Itar waved again to the responsive crowd as his guards escorted him off stage.\n\nItar was gasping when he said to Des, \"I...was...just...getting started. Why you...take me off?\"\n\nDes grinned. \"If I'd let you continue, you would have stolen the show.\"\n\nItar panted, \"Yes, I would have.\"\n\nDes was prepared. He moved onto the platform, waved to the enthusiastic crowd and to the bejeweled queen across from him on the other platform. She was wearing a flowing red dress and a tall, spiked crown inlaid with large diamonds; around her neck were many gold necklaces with sapphires and rubies.\n\nTorches waved; the room was alive with motion. There were acrobats above and gymnasts on the floor. But the noise and action wasn't what surprised Des the most.\n\nEveryone wore war paint on her face. Most faces were completely covered by paint, so it was impossible to identify anyone. One-half of the queen's face was painted with gold lightning bolts on blue; the other half had silver bolts on red.\n\nDes was reminded for some odd reason of a tour he'd taken at the Cave of the Winds. At one point, the guide had asked everyone to hold their hand in front of their face, then turned off the lights. There had been darkness so complete that Des couldn't even see his own hand.\n\nNow, in E-shandra, Des experienced total blackness of sound. Ten minutes had passed since he'd stepped onto the platform, and he'd said nothing yet. He raised his hands to silence the crowd and turned on the mike.\n\n\"E-cock-a-ou-e\u2014\"\n\nNo one heard the last syllable, \"sa.\" The whole place erupted as the sound went black again and stayed there for another five minutes.\n\nDes waved them to gray and shouted in their own language, \"We have nothing to fear but fear itself!\"\n\nWhen the blackness of sound regained control, Des switched off the mike, realizing this wasn't going to work, much as he wanted it to. He held the pages of his speech over his head and ripped them in half. Then he ripped them in half again, throwing pieces on the floor and stomping on them. He picked up the pieces, ripped them some more and threw the confetti into the crowd. Action, that's what they want.\n\nDes switched on the microphone and shouted in their own tongue one last passage Anastasia had taught him: \"If I had the power, I would touch each and every one of you.\" He paused. _\"I have the power!\"_\n\nHe jumped into the seats below and slapped the hands of the woman closest to him. She seemed dazed, but the women next to her reached out to Des, grabbing his hands. Des worked his way up and down the aisles, slapping or grabbing hands that were reaching out to him joyously.\n\nDes saved the aisle to the queen until he'd finished most of the others. He was rejuvenated, even ecstatic. He worked his way towards the queen, making sure he touched every extended hand, being touched by everyone who wanted his.\n\nThe queen stood as he approached her, towering over all, her hands on her hips.\n\nDes knelt on one knee, bowed his head and extended both arms towards her, palms up.\n\nThe queen surveyed the crowd and raised her hands above her head; her face remained calm but stern. She windmilled her arms forward three times; the last time, she struck Des' outstretched palms firmly with her fists.\n\nPandemonium broke out as Des stood next to the queen\u2014she took his hand and held it high.\n\nItar's guards charged across the floor of the arena, holding between them something wrapped in a large cloth. When they reached Des and the queen, they pulled off the cloth, revealing an oversized war club. The two guards held the ball end high, then offered the war club to Des. When he took it, the ball dropped swiftly; it was far too heavy for him. The guards eased it to the floor.\n\nThey grabbed Des' legs and lifted him up onto their shoulders. Other warriors plunked the huge war club across Des' thighs before Itar's guards took off at a gallop, jogging down the steps. It took all of Des' strength to keep the ball from rolling off his lap; it jostled about and the stick swung wildly above him. When they reached the sand floor, Des grabbed the stick with one hand to steady it and heard roars of laughter. They jogged in an oval around the floor; people parted as they saw them coming. Every time Des grabbed the stick, there was more laughter; everyone was smiling. Itar, too, was laughing, as he sat on his litter on the far side.\n\nDes knew it was all in good fun. And he didn't need to be a geologist to know what was on his lap. By its weight, he could tell that the war club's ball was close to one hundred kilos of solid gold.\n\nDes took the sound equipment back to Oom's, where the blacksmith was busy with his furnace. Des carefully packed the equipment in his pack, then returned to Al\u00e9e, who was waiting outside.\n\n\"Now,\" he said.\n\nAl\u00e9e nodded her approval. She followed him to Anastasia's house and stood by the doorway while Des went inside.\n\nAnastasia was sitting alone on her bed, looking drained.\n\nDes stopped in front of her, pulled the small wooden box from his pocket and opened it. He dropped to one knee.\n\n\"Anastasia, will you marry me?\"\n\nShe didn't need to understand the key word to realize what he was asking, but her response wasn't what he'd expected: She began to cry.\n\n\"It means that we can be together always,\" Des explained, confused by her tears.\n\nShe sobbed, \"I cannot...marry you.\" She cried uncontrollably for two minutes; whenever she looked at the ring, she cried some more. \"I have tricked you,\" she said between sobs.\n\nDes felt a freeze halo his heart; the chill spread to envelop his mind.\n\n\"It's okay, Annie. Tell me.\"\n\n\"I am already...marry.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 26\n\nPELLY BAY, NUNAVUT, CANADA\n\nLATITUDE 68\u00b0 42' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 89\u00b0 41' WEST\n\nMonth 3, Day 7; 2200 UTC, 4:00 PM LTD\n\n\"Sir, we've landed.\" The flight attendant tapped the shoulder of Mitch's fur coat gently.\n\nMitch's face was plastered against the plastic window. He opened his eyes and rolled away from the window with a groan.\n\n\"Sir!\" She tapped him harder and more urgently. \"Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?\"\n\nHe staggered to his feet and into the aisle.\n\n\"Perhaps you should sit back down,\" the flight attendant suggested.\n\n\"No, ma'am, it's just the medicine. I'll be fine when I'm off this airplane.\"\n\n\"Are these yours?\" She held up the duffel bag and briefcase from the overhead compartment.\n\nMitch forced himself to focus. \"Yes, they are. Do you happen to know where the Inuit National Council holds their meetings?\"\n\nThe two husky Inuit courthouse guards frisked Mitch and his freshly pressed suit and had him open his briefcase.\n\nThe courtroom had a small podium, behind which were sixty folding chairs with twenty occupants, all Inuits. Bearters was seated in the first row of folding chairs. He was dressed in jeans, a red-and-white checkerboard shirt, and a scowl. Mitch didn't try to catch his friend's eye as he took a seat in the back. The chairs and podium faced a long table with three executive chairs on the far side and gold nameplates with black lettering reading: Nighthorse, Tenbears and Fishand.\n\n\"All rise,\" a voice demanded, accompanied by a thumping on the wooden floor behind Mitch. An Inuit dressed in native costume had struck the floor with a thin, four-meter-tall pole.\n\nThree men in black robes entered and sat behind their name plaques.\n\n\"This council meeting is now in order,\" the man now identified as Tenbears announced. About fifty, he had a round, friendly face, black-framed glasses and dark hair streaked with grey. \"We've got several items on the agenda tonight, so please be patient. Your turn will come.\"\n\nMitch studied the other two council members. Nighthorse was close to seventy. He peered through the lower half of his wire-rim glasses as though he were constantly inspecting his own nose. His long face and butch haircut gave him an almost comical appearance. Fishand was thin; his face was devoid of fat with the skin taut over his angular features. His hair was shiny black. Mitch thought he was probably in his mid-thirties. All three were obviously of Inuit ancestry.\n\n\"Let's get started,\" Tenbears said. \"Mitchell Jones.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Mitch said. This was it. The set-up and the council's response were crucial to his plan.\n\n\"Mitchell Jones,\" Tenbears repeated.\n\n\"I'm right here,\" Mitch waved.\n\n\"I think Tenbears is asking if you would please approach and tell us why you are here,\" Fishand said, speaking with a lisp.\n\n\"Why, sure,\" Mitch said. He walked to the podium, placed his briefcase on it, grinned...\n\nFishand's eyes rolled. \"Sir, we are busy men. If you have something to say, then say it!\"\n\nMitch continued to grin as Bearters visibly gnashed his teeth.\n\n\"First of all,\" Mitch began, \"I'd like to thank you for allowing me to come here tonight and for listening to me. My name is Mitch Jones. I'm a representative of Boster Denton, a Colorado corporation.\"\n\nWhile Mitch spoke, Fishand leaned back in his chair and cupped a hand over his mouth as he whispered to Tenbears. Tenbears waved him off, but moments later cupped his own hand and whispered back. Fishand looked at Bearters, who wore a sour expression and eyes that could kill.\n\nMitch ignored the Inuit theatrics and continued. \"\u2014and so I was sent to see if you would let us retrieve the items we left behind. If you allow us to return to our base camp, I have a company check in my briefcase for restitution.\"\n\n\"This is about the Vent, isn't it?\" Nighthorse said, eyeing his nose.\n\n\"No, sir. It's not about the Vent. What we left behind is valuable only to my company and we now have no interest in the Vent.\"\n\n\"Bearters told me that it was your decision to leave that equipment behind, against Inuit tradition and law,\" Tenbears said.\n\n\"No, sir. The man is a liar. He wouldn't allow us to take what was ours.\"\n\nBearters coughed. All council eyes moved to him in unison. He raised his lip in a snarl.\n\nMitch continued: \"My company would fly a helicopter to Pelly Bay for your inspection, then return here with everything from our base camp for you to reinspect. You will receive this compensation check with only one stipulation.\"\n\nHe unbuckled his briefcase and produced the oversized check, making sure they saw all the zeros.\n\nNighthorse no longer surveyed his nose. Fishand rubbed his palm. Tenbears had been sipping water and sputtered some back. All eyes were now glued on the million-dollar check.\n\nMitch was gratified by their reactions.\n\n\"What's the condition?\" Tenbears asked when he had regained some composure.\n\n\"You may send a guide with us to make sure we do exactly what I have told you, but the guide cannot be Bearters.\"\n\nThe board's eyes swung again to Bearters, who appeared to have premeditated murder on his mind.\n\nMitch noticed a half-empty bag of Fireball Gumdrops behind Bearters' chair while he waited for the inevitable question.\n\nFishand was the one who asked, \"Why not Bearters?\"\n\n\"Because I would be in charge of the clean-up, and Bearters is my mortal enemy. I can prove it. May I show you?\" Mitch removed a hardcover book from his briefcase.\n\n\"Just a moment,\" Fishand said. He turned to the guards and raised an eyebrow.\n\nThe guards surrounded Mitch.\n\nFishand said, \"You mean to tell the council that your company would retrieve all items left behind, without entering or nearing Anderson Vent Two, and that if we allow you to do this with one condition, that check is ours for restitution?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Mitch answered.\n\n\"And the condition is that we can send a guide as long as it's anyone except Mr. Bearters, who is sitting here today. Your company specifically and emphatically told you that Mr. Bearters was not to be involved?\"\n\nMitch stared at his own feet. \"Yes, sir.\"\n\nTenbears said, \"Let's see what you have there. You may approach.\"\n\nThe book was bound and on the cover was embossed:\n\nOfficial United States Army Case Report\n\nOperation Snowman\n\nBy Jack Squires\n\nReleased By Colonel Stacy Wingert\n\n\"Where did you get this?\" Tenbears asked.\n\n\"From Stephen Summers, who was the doctor on the expedition. Jack Squires sent this copy to him, and he forwarded it to me.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Fishand asked.\n\nMitch sighed and shrugged. \"Stephen sent me this copy because he thought Jack was, well, soiling my reputation. He\u2014that is, Dr. Summers\u2014wanted me to consult with a lawyer, which I did.\"\n\nNighthorse seemed mildly interested. \"So, what happened?\"\n\n\"The attorney said I cannot win a lawsuit if what Squires wrote was true.\"\n\n\"What do you want us to look at here?\" Nighthorse asked.\n\n\"The page is marked, sir.\"\n\nTenbears opened the book, then read aloud: \"'Bearters is an exceptionally fine individual who always conducted himself with total poise and dignity. His loyalty to the Inuit nation, their laws and customs, was unswerving. At all times, and under all conditions, national pride and preservation were on his mind.\n\n\"'All of the expedition members revered Bearters, except Mitch. Whenever Mitch was around Bearters, Mitch behaved disgustingly towards him. The two men are now mortal enemies.\n\n\"'On every occasion of conflict, Bearters conducted himself with exemplary discipline. They were in a fistfight that Mitch started and Bearters finished. As I have written before, Mitchell stole Bearters' pistol and fired two shots before Bearters bravely retrieved it. Even after that action, Bearters remained cool.\n\n\"'I believe that Mitch is a racist. At one point, holding a lit propane torch in his hand, he said, \"I'd like to shove this torch up his fat, Eskimo ass and then see how funny he is.\" After that, Bearters made no more jokes.'\"\n\nTenbears asked Bearters, \"Did this man say that to you?\"\n\n\"On my mother's grave, he did,\" Bearters answered.\n\nTenbears glanced at Fishand and then at Nighthorse. He said, \"We'll adjourn for a short recess.\"\n\nAgain, there was a knocking on the floor, and the council members disappeared, taking the book with them.\n\nThirty minutes passed before Mitch heard the thumping on the floor.\n\n\"All rise.\"\n\nMitch stood, smiling.\n\n\"Be seated.\"\n\n\"Mitchell Jones,\" Tenbears said.\n\n\"Yes, sir?\" Mitch said, moving to the podium.\n\nTenbears continued, \"The board accepts your offer, and you may reclaim the equipment left behind by your expedition, if you adhere to the following provisions: That restitution is paid in advance, so we have adequate time to verify that the check is valid.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"I'm not finished. That you don't approach what is now known as 'Anderson Vent Two,' but remain at least ten kilometers away from the Vent at all times. We are in negotiations with several international companies for a look at that piece of ground. Your company's helicopter carries a single flight crew, and only enough individuals to quickly dismantle your camp. We will give you only two days to retrieve your equipment.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"No weapons are allowed, and no climbing equipment of any kind\u2014no ropes, no cable. There will be no construction equipment, no building materials or tools. The helicopter will fly here first for inspection, and you will remain in Pelly Bay until it arrives. After dismantling the camp, you're to return here for inspection, as well. Is that understood?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nFishand said, \"May I please see the check?\"\n\nMitch hesitated. The check was fully negotiable, so if Fishand kept it, he would have given up his leverage.\n\n\"You may inspect this check if I can have a receipt signed by the board members.\"\n\n\"All right, bring it to me,\" Fishand said. He scribbled on official Inuit stationery, reading aloud as he wrote: \"The board members of the Inuit Nation Council hereby acknowledge receipt of a certified check from Boster Denton, Inc., in the amount of one million dollars. The purpose of this check is to repay the Inuit Nation for damages incurred by that company, and to allow said company to proceed with clean-up efforts. The board has placed restrictions on these efforts, as recorded in the minutes of this meeting. Company spokesperson Mitchell Jones has agreed to these restrictions. If they are not followed, or if clean-up efforts are not concluded, the proceeds will be forfeited to the Inuit people.\"\n\nHe signed at the bottom and passed it to Tenbears with a smile. Tenbears signed and passed it to Nighthorse. Nighthorse's nose read it, then he put down the paper unsigned.\n\n\"I think we need more time to study this matter completely.\"\n\nMitch pulled the check from Fishand's fingers and retreated to the podium. He knew Fishand would not give up so much money easily.\n\nBoth Fishand and Tenbears stared at Nighthorse.\n\n\"Can I see that check again?\" Nighthorse asked.\n\nMitch said, \"The check in exchange for the receipt.\"\n\nWhen Nighthorse signed the receipt, Fishand sighed in relief.\n\n\"It seems we have a deal,\" Fishand said. \"And as to the matter of a guide...\"\n\nThe two guards flanked Mitch.\n\nFishand smiled. \"We have selected a man of impeccable qualities, someone who can make sure the job is done correctly. After careful deliberations, we have chosen Mr. Bearters.\"\n\nMitch felt a hand on each shoulder. \"No, no!\" he screamed, \"Not that son-of-a\u2014\"\n\nMitch lunged towards Bearters, but was restrained by the guards.\n\n\"Now, Mr. Jones,\" Fishand said, \"because of this demand of yours, I will personally contact your company to make sure Mr. Bearters is acceptable to them\u2014only if they question his qualifications will the board choose someone else.\"\n\n\"No! Oh God, please don't do this!\"\n\nThere was a knocking on the floor and the robes disappeared with the check. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 27\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3; Day 6, 1230 UTC, 6:30 PM LTD\n\n\"Itar, I love her!\"\n\nItar sat across the fire from Des at Say-ance, his guards by his side. Al\u00e9e was next to Des.\n\n\"You must do something,\" Des pleaded.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" Itar asked calmly.\n\n\"I know Anastasia loves me! But she told me she's already married\u2014taken. Who is he?\"\n\n\"Ah, now I understand,\" Itar said.\n\n\"Well, it's about time somebody did! I'm sleeping with Anastasia while her husband is apparently off doing God-knows-what for the beasts, and the whole damn village knew about this except me. You can bet that makes me feel pretty stupid. You knew what was happening too, Itar, and you chose to ignore it.\"\n\n\"Mining coal,\" Itar said.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"He is mining coal.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you tell me?\"\n\n\"Anastasia is not married,\" Itar said.\n\n_\"What?\"_\n\n\"She is promised. Sit, let the anger go.\" Itar waited for Des to settle, then continued, \"We are Anasazi.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" Des said, trying hard to curb his frustration.\n\n\"Others are Aztec,\" said Itar.\n\n\"So what?\"\n\n\"Still, there are others\u2014the ancient ones.\"\n\n_Where the hell was Itar headed?_ \"Do the ancient ones still walk the Earth?\"\n\n\"I have not seen this,\" Itar replied.\n\n\"The beasts, they are descendants of the ancient ones?\"\n\n\"No. It is written in the legends that the ancient ones hated the beasts.\" Itar grunted. \"You cannot marry Anastasia. That would be\u2014\"\n\n_\"Yes I can!\"_ Des shouted. \"And I will.\"\n\nEmbers churned into the room as the logs burned brightly.\n\nItar said, \"Listen to me! Long ago, there was war between the Aztec and the Anasazi, but the beasts conquered all. To bring intertribal peace, the council forced union. The council has already decided whom Anastasia will marry, even though the marriage has not yet taken place. It cannot be changed; it is how it is. When he returns, they will be joined.\"\n\nAnastasia was Anasazi, so she must marry an Aztec to intermingle the bloodlines to avoid warfare; they had become Anasazi-Aztec.\n\nBut Des determined not to give her up. \"I will fight for her. No one dared to take on the beasts until now. This can change, too.\"\n\nItar was also adamant. \"No, Des. It is the only way. The Aztecs are a powerful people and we are small in number. They would have killed all of us if the beasts had not stopped them.\"\n\nDes leapt to his feet. \"Fire, down!\" he commanded.\n\nThe fire abated and extinguished. Des strode across the instantly cold embers to Itar.\n\n\"Fire, up!\"\n\nImmediately, the fire sprang to new life.\n\n\"Itar, I don't care if the whole bloody Aztec nation rises up against us; I won't give up Anastasia. Besides, this time, you've got me on your side.\"\n\n\"He will kill you and offer your heart to the gods,\" Itar said patiently.\n\n\"Let him try!\"\n\nThe others seemed mystified because Des had scarcely given notice to walking across the fire.\n\nItar said finally, \"You are fighting the legends.\"\n\n\"Then let it be so,\" Des said.\n\n\"Fighting the man could be much worse,\" Itar mused. \"Al\u00e9e, asa bui Anastasia.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e bowed and left. When she returned, Anastasia was by her side.\n\nItar spoke to Anastasia in his own tongue for several minutes. Des understood some of the words, but had difficulty catching the entire drift.\n\n\"Abba,\" Anastasia said smiling. \"Abba!\"\n\nItar said to Des, \"I cannot marry Anastasia to you\u2014\"\n\n\"Itar, you can,\" Des interjected, realizing Anastasia had agreed to marriage.\n\n\"\u2014until the men return. To marry you now would be\u2014\"\n\n\"Underhanded and cowardly,\" Des finished for him. \"You are a man above all other men.\"\n\n\"I am not dead yet,\" Itar replied, \"but with this pact, we are in much trouble.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 28\n\nLATITUDE 23\u00b0 43' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE 133\u00b0 55' EAST\n\nLAPTITUDE 32%\n\nMonth 3 Day 8; 0700 UTC, 4:30 PM LTD\n\nBill Evans tossed up another potato chip and watched it float. Nine more platforms finished in ten days, he thought\u2014not bad. The loss of gravity had been troubling, but hadn't held up construction. He grabbed the chip and ate it.\n\nTwo men in pressurized spacesuits were suspended nearly one hundred kilometers below him, tethered from his platform at Level Nineteen. The somewhat bulky red-colored suits had steel and gasket joints at the wrists, shoulders, legs and ankles. The airtight helmets were gold. A rectangular backpack containing oxygen and ventilation equipment had a short, vertical antenna. Two corrugated tubes wound around each side to the chest-mounted oxygen flowmeter. From this box, a smaller tube branched at throat-level to enter each side of the helmet. A rock hammer and flashlight were attached to the right legging, below the waist.\n\nBill didn't need his spacesuit; the air was near normal, though the manometer had read four atmospheres\u2014sixty pounds of pressure per square inch.\n\nThe radio crackled and Josh's voice came from below. \"Bill? Can you hear me? Over.\"\n\nBill switched on the microphone. \"Loud and clear.\"\n\n\"I'm going to put one more stake in the wall, then you can lower me.\"\n\n\"Copy that.\"\n\nBill was able to watch on the monitor as Josh positioned the stake-gun's barrel against the cavern wall, because Josh's eighteen-year-old partner, Sam, had an infrared headlamp and camera focused on him. Josh fired; the recoil pushed him out of view. Sam's camera found him across the Vent, his body slammed against the granite wall.\n\n\"You okay, Josh?\" Sam asked.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess so. Some force to this gun.\"\n\n\"Especially when you're near zero gravity. Push back over and I'll check your suit for air leaks.\"\n\nJosh floated back towards the camera.\n\nBill saw a gloved hand testing the stake for firmness, then tying on a yellow flag. Now, eight stakes had been placed at ten-kilometer intervals. After one more, Josh and Sam would be at zero gravity.\n\nBill turned on the microphone again. \"Josh, I don't think we'll finish today, but you're close to zero gravity. Do you want me to pull you up now? Over.\"\n\n\"Just let me down about a kilometer\u2014leave Sam here with the stake\u2014then we'll call it a day. Over.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nBill started the Climber's Buddy and allowed the cable to feed out as Josh descended out of the range of Sam's light and camera. Josh's headlamp flashed periodically on the monitor before it disappeared completely.\n\nTen minutes passed before the speaker crackled and Josh said, \"Hey, what the\u2014? Bill, stop!\"\n\n\"What's happening?\" Bill demanded, braking the cable.\n\n\"Ah, shit!\" Josh said.\n\n\"Talk to me! Over.\"\n\n\"The damn cable\u2014don't pull me up! Ah, shit! Where the hell are you?\"\n\n\"I read you loud and clear, Josh!\"\n\n\"It's not that! Oh, crap, give me a minute.\"\n\n\"Talk to me now! Do you need Sam?\"\n\n\"Don't send him down here! We'll both get lost.\" Josh sounded confused. Bill said, \"You can't get lost. I'll pull you up.\"\n\n\"No! The cable is around my neck and I can't stop spinning. It's tightening!\"\n\n\"Can you get to the wall?\"\n\n\"There is no wall.\"\n\nNo wall? \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"There's nothing here! Absolutely nothing at all! It's a void. I can't even tell which way is up.\" Josh's voice was strained.\n\n\"I'm pulling you in,\" Bill said. He restarted Josh's Buddy. \"Sam? Let me know when you can see him.\"\n\nTen minutes passed before Sam said quietly, \"Josh is dead. Over.\"\n\nBill stared at his monitor and watched as Sam's light passed over dangling feet, then a limp torso, and finally Josh's helmeted head, nearly decapitated by the cable cutting through his neck.\n\nBill picked up the telephone.\n\n\"Get me John Smith, right now!\"\n\nThe man leaning over charts and graphs spread across the hotel conference table had shockingly long, wavy, dark hair and wore a pink t-shirt proclaiming \"Real Men Do It On Mars,\" GAP jeans and Adidas running shoes. His pallid face was smooth without a hint of a beard; his long-lashed eyes were greenish-brown and entrancingly baleful. When he spoke, his voice was deep, darkly magnetic, and dispelled any thoughts of androgyny. John wondered if Anderson had difficulty commanding respect from his students at Yale University, given his attire and feminine facial features. Still, the students he'd interviewed hadn't labeled him eccentric, although they had called him omnipotent, aloof and egocentric. It was his mind that they all cherished.\n\nWhen Bill's call came in, John said, \"I'll send down a medical team. Upload the final minutes to my computer.\"\n\nAs Amy stared at him, John disconnected, then said, \"There's been another death.\"\n\n\"Is that so? How did it happen?\" Anderson asked, absently.\n\n\"Josh was exploring in the interface and apparently got tangled in his own tether cable. Before he died, he reported that nothing was there.\"\n\nAnderson polished his rectangular reading glasses with his handkerchief. \"And where, exactly, is 'there'?\"\n\nAmy pounded her fist on the table. \"Wake up! People are dying! You suck as a guide for what lies ahead,\" she snarled at Anderson.\n\n\"Amy!\" John shouted.\n\nShe ignored him. \"Anderson, what is your problem? We've been over this many times, yet you still don't know what's happening? Are you not paying attention?\"\n\nAnderson said apologetically, \"I haven't gotten much sleep these past few days, with all the reporters interviewing me; being in front of cameras so much is a little tiring.\"\n\nJohn sighed. Damned prima donna. \"Bill is on Level Nineteen, and he tethered two men down to what should be Level Twenty, near zero gravity. That's approximately 34% laptitude. One of the men he sent down is dead, but before he died, he had ventured into the interface and said that there weren't even rock walls\u2014a void, he called it.\"\n\nAnderson repeated with a yawn, \"A void.\"\n\n\"Yes. We can't build a platform at Level Twenty because there's nothing to attach it to.\"\n\nJohn played back Josh's final words: \"There's nothing here! Absolutely nothing at all! It's a void. I can't tell which way is up.\"\n\nAnderson said, \"You don't expect me to give you an answer now, do you?\"\n\n\"I expect you to try,\" John answered, holding his anger in check.\n\nAnderson concentrated on the charts in front of him. Several minutes passed. Then he sighed and flipped through pages. More time passed as he stared at the ceiling.\n\nFinally, he said, \"I need more information. I need another man down near Level Twenty, someone I can talk to while he's there.\" He stood and pointed his glasses at John. \"This time, anticipate zero gravity. Give him some way to move and a way to orient himself. I don't need another confused individual. I need somebody who can tell me exactly where he is.\" He turned to leave. \"I'm going to get some sleep.\"\n\nJohn telephoned Bill. \"What's going on right now?\"\n\n\"I'm still bringing up Sam with Josh's body. No change in the situation.\"\n\n\"When they get to you, keep Sam there. I need him to go back tomorrow. Anderson wants to talk with him while he's near the interface.\"\n\n\"Roger. I'll ask him.\"\n\n\"I'm sending down a jetpack so he can maneuver near the void. Have him wear both the spacesuit and the jetpack because we just don't know. I'm also sending down a couple of white lights. He can hang infrareds on most of the stakes, but I want white lights on the last two they set. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"I understand, but what about the mantibles?\" Bill asked.\n\n\"I don't think the mantibles hang out in zero gravity and Sam needs to be able to see clearly to know which way is up.\"\n\n\"Got you. Did Anderson figure all this out?\"\n\n\"Of course. Who else would have such intelligence?\"\n\nThe following morning, John and Amy were in the hotel conference room. John was talking with Bill via telephone.\n\n\"Where's Sam now?\"\n\nBill answered, \"He's at the eighth stake. He's putting a light on it and turning it on.\"\n\nAnderson entered and Amy filled him in. John thought he still looked tired, but maybe he always looked tired.\n\n\"Anderson is here. He wants to talk to you.\" John passed over the phone.\n\n\"Your man is at the eighth stake?\" Anderson asked Bill. He listened, then asked John, \"What's the white light for?\"\n\n\"It's a beacon to indicate which way is up.\"\n\n\"Good idea. Bill, Sam needs to work his way to the bottom of the vent wall.\" John scribbled \"jetpack on his back\" and showed the note to Anderson, who nodded approval, then continued to Bill, \"If he needs to, have him use the jetpack to get down, but don't get tangled in the cable.\"\n\nFifteen minutes passed.\n\nAnderson told Bill, \"All right. Have your man work his way through the cone, but make sure to always keep the white light in sight.\"\n\nJohn switched his monitor's view to Sam's headlamp camera and turned up the volume to listen to the conversation between Sam and Bill. The cavern wall became illuminated as the lamp moved horizontally, then the white light above Sam came into view.\n\n\"Spinning,\" Sam said.\n\nBill said, \"Fire your jetpack to stop the rotation.\"\n\nThe light on the wall stopped moving.\n\nBill said, \"Anderson wants you to go beyond the cone at the mouth of the Vent, but keep the light in sight.\"\n\n\"Roger.\"\n\nCable floated and curled across the screen. John hoped this wouldn't become a reenactment of the previous day's tragedy.\n\n\"Gliding out of the cone and into the interface,\" Sam announced.\n\nThe light attached to the stake appeared.\n\n\"What do you see?\" Bill asked.\n\n\"I see rock\u2014a horizontal rock wall. It's probably granite with some small crystals, most likely quartz. The top of the void is lined with rock and crystals, but below, there's nothing. I'm turning on my flashlight.\" Both lights shone back into the Vent. The cavern light had disappeared completely.\n\n\"That's all?\" Bill asked.\n\n\"Just a minute.\" The staked white light reappeared. \"Whew! Got lost there for a moment.\"\n\nBill said, \"Anderson wants to know if there's any dust or soil mixed with the rock and crystals.\"\n\nSam reached between two larger rocks and grabbed some dirt. It twinkled in his flashlight beam.\n\n\"Yes, there's dust.\"\n\n\"What happens when you let go of it?\"\n\nWhen he released it, the dust burst out in a sphere, then sank towards the horizontal wall.\n\n\"Uh, it clings back to the rock.\"\n\n\"Can you go to the center of the cone and move into the void?\"\n\n\"I think so,\" Sam said. \"Give me more cable.\"\n\nHis jetpack hissed as he traveled back until he was directly below the white light; cable curled up beside him. His feet appeared next to the cavern wall.\n\n\"Moving into the void. More cable, quickly!\"\n\nHis lights pierced only blackness.\n\nTwo seconds later, Sam shouted, \"Stop! I've got suction here; we have suction. Bill, bring me up, quick! I'm spinning again!\"\n\nBill said, \"Hold on, Sam\u2014the Buddy can't overcome the weight. I'll need to lower the gear ratio.\"\n\nSam screamed, \"Get me out of here!\"\n\n\"Fire your jetpack downward!\" Bill ordered.\n\n\"There is no down!\"\n\nThe white light appeared on the monitor and was getting closer.\n\n\"Sam, you all right?\" Bill asked.\n\nIt was a very long few seconds before he answered.\n\n\"Yeah, but I feel like I've been yanked in half.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 29\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3, Day 9; 1500 UTC, 9:00 AM LTD\n\nIt had rained all night and had stopped only just recently, so the air was laden with mist as Des and Anastasia strolled down the path.\n\n\"She hates me,\" Des said suddenly with a laugh.\n\n\"Who hates you?\"\n\n\"Your sister.\"\n\n\"Oh, Des, Bethenna does not hate you!\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, she does!\" He shoved his hip against Anastasia's, knocking her down.\n\n\"Oh, no, she doesn't!\" She jumped up, brushed herself off, then gave Des a hip-shove of her own, knocking him sprawling off the path on the cliff side.\n\nHe saw nothing but wet leaves. There was mud underneath him and he felt himself sliding down the slope. He scrambled for traction, but found only more mud. He grabbed for a branch with one hand, then wiped the goop from his face with the other; some dripped into his eyes, so he shut them tightly. Anastasia was tugging on his legs to keep him from slipping further. He finally managed to turn his feet downhill and gained purchase for them on a root.\n\nAfter Anastasia helped pull him back up, he sat on the edge of the path and wiped his face with his muddy hands, then opened his eyes and tried to focus.\n\nHe briefly caught sight of B`ahta through the mist, building sand castles on the beach far below him. Then the fog obscured. Moments later, she reappeared, waving toward the sea.\n\nDes gasped, \"Anastasia, the beasts are back! B`ahta is signaling!\"\n\nWhy was Adeyo not sounding the alarm on his drums? The beast boats were not expected for another five days, but still he should be watching. No one was ready; no one was in position.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e!\" Des called.\n\nShe came quickly.\n\n\"Find Ray-na and May-lee and bring them here. The beasts have returned.\"\n\nShe nodded and left.\n\nDes told Anastasia, \"Adeyo probably can't see the boats because of the mist. You have to get him to sound the alarm now.\"\n\n\"Abba,\" she said, running.\n\nAl\u00e9e returned with Ray-na and May-lee.\n\nDes told them, \"Tell the other captains the beasts are here, then push off in your canoes. Hurry! We may already be too late.\"\n\nHe ran to Anastasia's house, plunged headfirst into her tub and washed off the mud. When he resurfaced, he saw Bethenna and her children standing there.\n\n\"The boats, the men, the beasts are here,\" he told her.\n\nShe nodded calmly and ushered her children away.\n\nDes dressed in a white tunic and headband. As he left the house, he noticed that Bethenna had changed her clothes, as well\u2014she was now in red, with a beaded necklace.\n\nHe couldn't see the beach through the mist and still heard no drumming. Come on, Anastasia, come on.\n\nThe mist cleared for a moment, revealing B`ahta still sitting on the beach, still waving at the sea.\n\nDes hurried toward Oom's hut, past which were the warriors' reed canoes\u2014but no one was in them.\n\nCome on, Al\u00e9e\u2014where was she? What's taking them so long?\n\nThe warriors finally appeared. They pushed their canoes into deeper water, glided near the shore, then headed out to sea, their paddles below the water's surface. The warriors were lying flat so the small boats appeared empty.\n\nThey know silence. They know war.\n\nHe heard the drums far above him.\n\nWhen Des caught sight of B`ahta again, she was no longer waving. Directly in front of her was a small, boxlike boat with three odd figures clad in leather vests and leggings. One held a rope as he waddled towards her.\n\n\"B`ahta,\" Des whispered to himself, _\"get off the beach!\"_\n\nShe sat near her sand castle, unmoving.\n\nThe other two figures leaped out of the boat. The fickle mist was beginning to enshroud them again, so Des wasn't entirely sure he saw what he thought he saw, or if he just didn't want to acknowledge it. While one beast was tying up the boat with a rope, the other two appeared to place their knuckles on the ground, swivel their shoulders forward and lope on all fours towards the village in a gait as fast as most men could run.\n\nWhy hadn't anyone told him this about the beasts?\n\nAnastasia came running.\n\n\"We must get B`ahta off the beach!\" Des told her.\n\n\"It is too late. No one can get to her now. She is past the line.\"\n\n\"What will they do?\"\n\n\"They will kill her if she doesn't move,\" she answered grimly.\n\n\"We must get closer.\"\n\nDes ran towards the sea with Anastasia close behind him. But he wouldn't get so close that the beasts could see him and jeopardize his battle plan. He and Anastasia knelt in bushes that bordered the sand. Des listened intently and watched B`ahta, who still hadn't moved.\n\nAn old beast with a paunch stood over her.\n\n\"Ah-coo-lety?\" B`ahta cooed.\n\n\"Shoo!\" the beast commanded her.\n\nB`ahta cocked her head questioningly.\n\nThe beast turned and went back to his boat. He removed an animal horn and blew into it, sounding a smooth, low tone.\n\nDes heard the sounds of machinery and gentle splashing from the foggy sea.\n\nThree seventy-meter boats slowly emerged to settle near the shore, their bows in waist-deep water. The paddle cage at each stern stopped rotating; smoke and cinders billowed from cone-shaped flues. The ships' bows were square and hinged near the waterline; they opened with a rattle of chains and splashed into the sea to become ramps.\n\nDozens of village women were walking towards the beach, wearing brightly colored tunics and jewelry; among them, the warriors were dressed in white. One dressed in red\u2014Bethenna, Des realized\u2014plodded down to B`ahta and stopped. An elderly woman, using a blowgun as her staff, moved haltingly towards the water, assisted by a few women in white tunics.\n\nA tall, ugly beast emerged from the central boat to stand at the top of the ramp. He was dressed in a leather vest with overlying flat straps that wound over his hairy shoulders from his belted waist, leather pants and black leather boots. He held a birch switch\u2014his long fingers ended in claws held flat against his wrist. He revealed far too many shark-like teeth.\n\n\"Shrive,\" Anastasia whispered to Des, indicating the ugly beast. \"He is their leader.\"\n\nThese beasts didn't need manufactured weapons, Des realized, because they could run fast enough to catch any prey, grab it with teeth and talons, kill it and butcher it quickly. Why hadn't he been told?\n\nShrive surveyed the beach, from one upturned fishing boat to the other.\n\n\"Jilese,\" he called.\n\nA grotesquely fat beast waded to shore with a small table, a chair and a book on his back. He set the table upright on the dry sand next to Bethenna, who had been speaking with B`ahta, now behind the table.\n\nJilese flopped into his chair.\n\nShrive threw back his head and howled a bloodcurdling screech, which he repeated.\n\nA team of twenty-five beasts emerged from each boat, waded to shore and loped off towards the village. Another fifteen beasts moved towards the livestock and ten sentries began patrolling the beach.\n\nShrive strode down the ramp and waded to shore. He ignored B`ahta, but confronted Bethenna by tapping the switch against her leg.\n\n\"You see,\" Shrive said in Anasazi, \"I am not as bad as you think. The girl lives, even though she is across the line, and I will not kill her as long as all goes well.\"\n\nDes didn't need Anastasia's translation\u2014he understood precisely what Shrive had said.\n\nBethenna spat on the ground. \"Why should all not go well?\"\n\nShrive laughed and brushed Bethenna's neck with his fingernails.\n\nDes whispered, \"If that son-of-a-bitch touches her again, I'll kill him with my bare hands and to hell with the others.\"\n\nThe men held captive inside the boats began to chant. Their chanting obviously irritated Shrive.\n\n\"Stop them,\" he shouted, slapping his crop on the book. \"Jilese, get the men off my ships.\"\n\nJilese whistled, and a single file of men started down each boat ramp. The chanting stopped. The old sentry waddled from his rowboat to Jilese, placed the animal horn on the table and returned, crawling over the gunwales to sit, his eyes closed. The troopers guarding the men cracked their whips in the air as the men waded to shore to line up next to Jilese.\n\nB`ahta continued digging in the sand, appearing oblivious.\n\nOne of the men looked robust and even muscular among his emaciated countrymen. A trooper whipped him, but the man pushed the whip off his back and sneered at his attacker.\n\n\"Who is that man?\" Des asked.\n\nAnastasia sighed, but said nothing.\n\nJilese opened his logbook. The first man in line signed, then stumbled up the beach. Women in white tunics picked him up and carried him off.\n\nMore men signed the book.\n\nShrive relieved himself.\n\nPuma pulled herself soundlessly over the paddles of the central boat, her blowgun strapped to her back, and slipped over the railing to squat on the deck. Where was May-lee? Des had said they were to fight only in pairs, so she would have to wait.\n\nAs she watched warriors climb into the other boats and disappear, she realized it would be easy for any passing beast to spot her. There was a wooden wall surrounding a stairwell into the bowels of the boat just twenty meters in front of her. Puma crawled into the shadows of the wall and hid behind some barrels, her blowgun at the ready.\n\nStill no sign of May-lee.\n\nA beast came up the stairs, facing away from her. She untied the bladder on her belt, set it down near her foot, pulled out a dart and loaded the gun.\n\nThe beast flapped his arms and turned, looking past her. Could he see her? Puma wasn't sure. Could he be looking at May-lee climbing over the railing? Puma didn't look. She brought the blowgun to her mouth and fired, but her foot slid on the bladder, and the other darts spilled out and rolled across the deck.\n\nThe dart hit the beast in the neck. He whisked it away with the back of his hand while he focused on the rolling darts.\n\nThen he saw Puma.\n\nThe beast growled something in his own language; she didn't understand him. She slid her blowgun behind a barrel and stood, her hands flat against the stairway wall.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" the beast asked in her language.\n\nHe was twice her width and almost as tall. He swung his gaze up and down her body, then sliced open her tunic with his fingernails and cupped her breast.\n\n\"Now I will take you downstairs,\" he told her.\n\nPuma closed her eyes. He lifted her by grabbing her tunic below the waist and pinned her against him with one massive arm. Puma pounded his shoulders with her fists, but she otherwise kept quiet to avoid alerting the other beasts. She thought of her friends who would have done the same for her.\n\nThe poison from the dart kicked in. The beast stumbled and swayed, then he toppled over\u2014on top of Puma. Air gushed from her lungs; she struggled for breath as she pushed to get his weight off her. Even in her struggle, she remembered to keep silent. She heaved on his shoulders with all her might. Planting one foot on his neck, she pushed until she was free.\n\nShe turned towards the bow and saw three beasts were watching her from not thirty meters away.\n\nAs she grabbed her blowgun, her bamboo breathing tube slipped out of her pocket and rolled. The beasts rushed towards her; one slipped when he stepped on the tube. As the other two helped him up, Puma grabbed a dart, packed it in the gun, aimed at the middle beast and blew.\n\nThe dart hit the left beast in the knee, but another beast sliced open her wrist with a claw. As blood spurted from her limp hand, the beast slapped her hard.\n\nShe tried to remain conscious while her head swam. Don't scream, she told herself. Don't scream.\n\nOne beast threw her blowgun and darts overboard, as the other two picked her up and flung her down the stairwell.\n\nAl\u00e9e snuck down the boat's staircase, her war club ready. Behind her, Ray-na had her back, with her dart gun aimed up the stairs. When Al\u00e9e reached the bottom, she glanced quickly into the room below, then pulled back and studied the picture in her mind: One beast was eating, the furnace was glowing brightly...nothing more. She rounded the bottom of the steps and crept along the wall's shadows while Ray-na remained on the steps.\n\nThe beast didn't see Al\u00e9e until she was right behind him. He turned with a mouthful of bread and started to stand, but Al\u00e9e whacked him in the head with her club. His body crumpled lifeless against the furnace's hot metal.\n\nAl\u00e9e opened the furnace door and shoveled blazing coal fire onto the dead beast and the wooden floor. She and Ray-na ascended as the room caught fire. With breathing tubes in their mouths, they slipped off the boat and disappeared from sight. The boat would soon be engulfed in flames.\n\nThey had killed five beasts in fifteen minutes. Not bad.\n\nDes saw Shrive sniff the air.\n\nWomen in white tunics surrounded the elderly woman, whose blowgun was now pointed at Shrive. Other warriors were rushing the men who had signed-out off the beach.\n\nShrive sniffed again. \"Jilese, process the rest. My troops, back to the boats!\"\n\n\"He smells blood,\" Des whispered.\n\nBeasts began moving into the water and up the ramps.\n\nShrive stood by the table as he scanned the beach. One of his troops was trotting towards him, carrying a lamb that was bleating incessantly.\n\n\"Jilese, hurry up!\"\n\n\"I am hurrying.\"\n\nA dart hit Jilese on the chest, where it dangled like a medal. Shrive eyed it curiously.\n\n\"Jilese, blow the horn. Get my troops back. It's time to go.\"\n\nThe trooper with the lamb had slowed to a walk. The sheep was kicking and bleating. The old sentry in the rowboat awakened and watched sleepily.\n\nJilese said, \"I'm almost finished. Men, stay in line and sign out.\"\n\nThe beast with the lamb stopped in front of Shrive.\n\n\"Don't bring it to me, you idiot! Put it on the ship!\" Shrive pointed toward the sea without looking, so he didn't see the smoke billowing from the deck of the farthest boat.\n\nThe beast with the lamb fell forward onto his face. The sheep wiggled out, twitched her tail and trotted away. Blood streamed from the fallen beast's head; bone and brain matter exuded from the head wound and his hairy back was matted with blood.\n\nDes' warriors were now running to the fishing boats, heaving them upright and pulling out war clubs. Des strode toward Shrive, brandishing Oom's sword. Anastasia was by his side.\n\nShrive saw them. \"The _she-wolf?\"_ he asked, aghast.\n\nDes raised his sword.\n\nShrive shouted at Jilese in unintelligible dialect, then shoved his aide, who toppled over the book and over the table; his bulk fell to the sand. When Shrive stooped over him, a dart whizzed above his head. He grabbed the horn and wheeled around to run as Des charged.\n\n\"Ahhh, yi!\" B`ahta swung her war club hard against Shrive's knee.\n\nShrive squealed in pain as he buckled.\n\n\"You bitch! I'll kill you for that!\" he hissed. Another dart whizzed over him.\n\nB`ahta was flipping her war club around for another blow, but Shrive wasn't going to wait to receive it. He limped quickly into the water and up the ramp to his ship, blowing the horn. The boat nearby was ablaze. He blew the horn again, more urgently.\n\nDes heard splashing from the stern. Beasts were running down the ramp of the burning vessel and wading over to Shrive's ship.\n\nShrive lined them up at the top of his ramp.\n\nBeast troopers loped from the village, dodging women wielding war clubs and Des' swinging sword. Two were felled and beaten by the women.\n\nB`ahta approached the sentry, still seated in his rowboat.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" the sentry asked. \"Don't you know Shrive will kill you for this?\"\n\nShe lifted her war club above her head.\n\n\"You...die...first!\" she said, and smacked him hard; his body fell over the boat railing.\n\nDes hacked off the old beast's head.\n\nHe heard the rattling of chains as the ramps closed on the two still-functioning boats. Their paddles started churning, and they began to move.\n\nThe women were lined up on the beach, swinging their clubs, chanting and shouting at the ships.\n\nShrive appeared on the bow-deck of his boat. He blew his horn again. He shouted at the warriors and pointed at Des. He screamed as the boats disappeared in the fog until he couldn't be heard.\n\n\"What was the beast saying?\" Des asked Anastasia.\n\nShe appeared glum, in spite of their rout.\n\n\"Nothing important.\"\n\nA frail, malnourished young man meandered through the warriors, his eyes bulging.\n\nHe asked Anastasia a question. When she answered, he spat upon the sand.\n\n\"What does he want to know?\" Des asked.\n\nShe sighed. \"He asked if you were the one that led us into war with the beasts, the one who leads.\"\n\n\"Abba,\" Des said.\n\nThe man spoke angrily, then turned to leave.\n\nDes grabbed his arm. \"Just a minute.\" He turned to Anastasia. \"What did he say?\"\n\n\"He said the beasts will return.\"\n\n\"So what? If the beasts return, then we'll kill them, like we just did. They would be stupid to come back after what's happened today.\"\n\n\"Des, it is not quite that simple. Shrive said he would return and kill all of us to serve as an example for the other tribes. We are not the only ones who work for the beasts.\"\n\nThe pale young man's message alerted Des to a possibility he hadn't thought about.\n\n\"How many other tribes work for the beasts?\"\n\n\"Perhaps twenty,\" Anastasia said.\n\nOne group battling the beasts while nineteen others worked submissively for them? Des could have used this information earlier. If the beasts decided to leave them alone, then word got out to the other slaves, the beasts would risk losing total control of their workforce, so it would make sense to kill this group rather than write them off.\n\n\"Shrive will let the other slaves live if the warriors surrender\u2014that includes you and me,\" Anastasia told him.\n\nDes had seen at least eight hundred men released today, maybe a thousand, so the beasts could have as many as twenty thousand slaves.\n\n\"How many beasts are there?\" Des asked wearily, only now becoming aware of the sheer magnitude of the problem.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Anastasia replied.\n\n\"More beasts than men?\"\n\n\"Abba.\"\n\n\"If the beasts return, how many beasts would come?\" Des asked.\n\n\"Ten or twenty times as many beasts as today. As many as\u2014\"\n\n\"\u2014would be necessary to kill all of us,\" Des finished her thought.\n\nThere would be thousands of beasts\u2014maybe tens of thousands\u2014storming the beach, murdering everyone in sight. And they would be regular soldiers, not slave watchers, soldiers who could run faster than the warriors could swing, maybe even quicker than darts could find them.\n\nDes asked, \"How long before the beasts return?\"\n\n\"Shrive said we have fourteen days to surrender. I must go to see what has happened in the village.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia left, the young man followed her. Des realized too late that this had been a shallow victory, perhaps even the beginning of the end.\n\nThe warriors piled wood and dead beasts together. As they stacked them, Des counted forty-two beasts. They would need a forest to burn thousands if they were lucky enough to prevail.\n\nAnastasia screamed. Des ran towards her voice.\n\nThe muscular man Des had seen being whipped by beasts had Anastasia by the wrist. The man jerked and started dragging her; nobody even tried to stop him.\n\n\"Let go of her!\" Des stood in his path, his sword drawn.\n\nThe man looked puzzled, then he laughed. He began to go around Des, but Des moved to stay in his way.\n\n\"Let go of her now!\"\n\nThe man laughed again. Dropping Anastasia's wrist and shoving her to the ground, he motioned for Des to fight.\n\nDes said, \"And leave her alone!\"\n\nThe man doubled over with laughter, but when he straightened, he sobered.\n\nAl\u00e9e stood next to Des, her war club ready, and Ray-na was pointing a blowgun at him.\n\nThe man spread his legs wide apart and scooped sand through them. He laughed heartily, then sneered and left, with several young men following him.\n\nDes helped Anastasia to her feet.\n\nShe said, \"His name is Rawool. I must go check the other teams.\"\n\nShe ran off.\n\nDes was pretty sure that most everyone was against him now.\n\nThe flames of the beast bonfires had grown. Des' hatred for the beasts also rose, and he resolved to not flee; he'd stand and fight to the death whomever they sent.\n\nAnastasia returned with news: \"There have been some deaths.\"\n\n\"How many?\" he asked.\n\n\"Four. And one is missing.\"\n\nFour warriors and forty-two beasts were dead. Even at that rate, four thousand beasts could easily wipe us out. And the next time, the beasts would be prepared. It would be another Alamo. Des realized that he needed to devise a much better battle plan.\n\n\"Des.\"\n\n\"Yes?\" He studied Anastasia's face. God, she was beautiful.\n\n\"May-lee had water inside her. She never made it to the beast boat. We found her in the sea.\"\n\nDrowned, Des surmised.\n\n\"And Puma is missing.\"\n\n\"Puma is tough, she'll be all right,\" Des replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. He didn't know the other three dead warriors, but he knew what they had been doing: killing beasts, like all the others.\n\n\"We must go to them,\" Anastasia said.\n\nThe procession of men, women, warriors and children passed the museum. Almost the entire village was walking up the mountain path; some were carrying torches, many were chanting. Des realized that nobody was crying\u2014he saw not a single tear. Up ahead, he saw the litters bearing the dead women; four warriors carried each fallen comrade up the mountain while Adeyo beat a slow, low rhythm on his drums.\n\nIn a clearing near the top, wood had been stacked in four biers equally spaced across the meadow. The warriors placed a litter on each one, and white woolen cloths were laid to cover each body. Women with torches surrounded the biers.\n\nItar sat in front of the biers. The chanting rose as everyone clustered around him. When he raised his hand, the chanting and drums stopped.\n\nItar spoke to the silent multitude. Des didn't know all the language, but he understood what Itar was saying. Itar spoke about the lives of the dead. He called them brave. He said they gave their lives so others could be free. Funerals were all the same. Des felt an urge to hug the body of each warrior before they were burned. They had died following him.\n\nItar finished and bowed his head. The warriors with torches lit the biers, and the fires flared quickly and burned brightly.\n\nDes sat cross-legged near Oom's furnace that evening, with Al\u00e9e next to him.\n\nDes said to her in Anasazi, \"Itar knew that if we did this, the beasts would return in greater numbers. Nobody told me how the beasts could run, or slash with their claws\u2014but then again, I didn't ask.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e nodded.\n\nDes drew a pictograph in the dirt; under it he added a down slash, followed by two horizontal lines.\n\n\"We need this many of these. Can you make them?\"\n\n\"Abba,\" Al\u00e9e said.\n\n\"Make them quickly, and make them strong. Take as many warriors as you need.\"\n\n\"Abba.\"\n\nOom emerged from his hut. He laid an intricately woven reed sheath with an exposed handle in Des' lap and bowed deeply.\n\n\"For me?\" Des asked, surprised.\n\nOom bowed again.\n\nStrapped to each side of the tapering sheath was a round iron bar. Des pulled the hilt and the blade ground against iron. The steel sword was a machete sharpened on both edges. Des pulled it out halfway, inspecting the blade, then pushed it back into the sheath. It had been inscribed in English\u2014\"Oom\" on one surface, \"Des\" on the other.\n\nDes hugged Oom.\n\n\"Thank you very much\u2014what a treasure.\" He attached the heavy weapon to his belt.\n\nOom danced in front of him, pretending he was sword-fighting, but Des was deep in thought.\n\nDeadly thoughts. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 30\n\nLATITUDE 23\u00b0 43' SOUTH\n\nLONGITUDE 133\u00b0 55' EAST\n\nMonth 3, Day 10; 0100 UTC, 9:30 AM LTD\n\n\"I said colored chalk\u2014lots of colors! This is not what I ordered,\" Anderson thundered, spilling the box of white chalk onto the grey marbleized floor.\n\nAcross the conference room, John smiled only because Anderson was more animated today. His attitude had been getting oppressive.\n\nThe scientist continued to rant. \"And this blackboard! You call this oversized? I say it's insufficient.\"\n\nThe blackboard appeared pretty standard to John, but he nodded at some staffers, who left.\n\n\"I've got Bill on the phone. You want to talk to him?\" he asked Anderson.\n\n\"Not now.\"\n\nAnderson flipped through books on the table, carefully arranging open pages. He had written most of them. The titles were esoteric: \"Applied Philosophical Astronomy\" and \"Astronomical Kinetics: A Teleological Approach.\"\n\nJohn told Bill, \"Just hold right where you are.\"\n\nAfter staffers set up a second blackboard and laid colored chalk in neat rows on the table, Anderson picked up two pieces of chalk and wrote furiously on the larger of the blackboards, beginning with Einstein's \"E=MC2.\" He covered the rest of the board with formulas, each in a different color. Then he drew two half-meter circles adjacent to each other on the other board\u2014one in blue, one in red.\n\n\"Perfect circles,\" Amy observed, raising an eyebrow at John.\n\nAnderson turned to his captive audience. \"You see, there really is nothing. Nothing at all.\" He smiled.\n\nJohn raised an eyebrow back at Amy.\n\nAnderson continued: \"Nothing but displacement. The initialization of the universe was a moment of inflation. I said 'moment', but it took no time at all, because time didn't exist. For every particle of matter, antimatter effused, and the two will eventually meet again and self-destruct. In the end, there will be coalescence and dissolution.\"\n\n\"I think I liked you better when you were tired,\" John said.\n\nAnderson ignored the comment, if he even heard it. \"It's the forth dimension, time, that allows the perception of existence. The universe is still expanding, but in a trillion, trillion, trillion years it will contract into zero mass and infinite density, and time\u2014not relative time, but time itself\u2014will cease to exist. Time cannot stand alone.\"\n\nJohn said evenly, \"Anderson, I know there's a lot of debate in your field, but we're here to find a man, not to discuss theory.\"\n\nThe scientist countered, \"You can't find the needle if you don't understand the structure of the haystack.\"\n\nAmy drummed her fingers on the table. \"We don't need to understand your haystack as long as you do. Where the hell is George Barrington?\"\n\n\"Down there,\" Anderson said, gesturing vaguely.\n\nJohn said to Bill on the phone, \"We've got a fucking madman on the loose up here. Is there anybody sane down there?\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" Bill replied jovially. \"You can't find anybody sane that would do this job!\"\n\n\"Where's the probe?\" Anderson asked.\n\nJohn asked Bill, who replied, \"She's out a hundred kilos, at the mouth of the interface, floating like a bird.\"\n\nJohn relayed the information to Anderson: \"It's in position\u2014and don't give me any crap about how there are no positions. It's at the end of the Vent.\"\n\nAnderson appeared injured. \"If you would allow me to explain\u2014\"\n\nAmy's eyes rolled.\n\n\"Ah, Bill, our man's off into theory again. Just hold where you are.\" John turned to Anderson. \"All right, if you have something useful to explain, I'm listening.\"\n\n\"You need a little background to understand,\" Anderson began.\n\n\"Ten minutes, tops.\"\n\nAmy looked at her watch.\n\n\"Here is the Earth.\" Anderson pointed to the blue circle, then labeled it with yellow and green chalk: Surface, crust, mantle, outer core and inner core. \"That's how some see it, but I do not. This picture is impossible. Think about that for a minute. At the center is an atom being crushed by all the others. It would literally explode! A nuclear reaction would obliterate the planet. That's not science, that's stupidity. The core is not a ball of iron or molten lava or hypertonic plasma. Lava is formed in the mantle. The Earth's tectonic plates collide and invert, changing land mass through heat and pressure into lava. The lava spews upward, thus renewing the surface. The core is the air we breathe, and the Vents are proof.\"\n\n\"Hold on, you lost me there. Why do the Vents prove it?\" John asked.\n\n\"Because, in nature, there are no closed systems.\"\n\n\"Five minutes,\" Amy announced.\n\nAnderson said, \"I'm not trying to confuse you. A biological or ecological system needs dissemination and rejuvenation to exist. Remember several years ago, when some scientists locked some men in an artificial environment, not allowing anything in or out? They had plants they grew for food and oxygen. They exhaled carbon dioxide that was utilized by the plants. Do you remember?\"\n\nJohn did remember hearing about the experiment. \"It was to see if we could send a man into space and have him be self-sustaining.\"\n\n\"Exactly! And how long did the men last under glass, so to speak?\"\n\nJohn shrugged. \"Months? Years?\"\n\n\"It was six days before the so-called scientists cheated. Of course, no one knew it at the time; only years later did one confess. Seven times in the first month, while observers were not watching, they pumped in oxygen. The experiment lasted sixty-four days before the subjects ran out of food and were officially released.\n\n\"My only point is that the core, being air, cannot be forever sealed from the surface. It has to be circulated and intermixed or it would become stale. The Vents are portals, and I believe this one is sucking in air, while the other is expelling it. If air is being sucked in, where is it going?\"\n\nJohn thought about that, then spoke into the receiver. \"Hey, Bill, do you feel a breeze down there?\"\n\n\"A breeze? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"You know, wind going by. We haven't needed extra ventilation while building the platforms.\"\n\n\"No breeze, no wind.\"\n\n\"Bill says 'no breeze',\" John told Anderson.\n\nAnderson sat next to John. \"Your platforms are in the way.\"\n\nJohn thought about that, and said to Bill, \"Do me a favor\u2014walk over to the elevator shaft and see if there's a breeze.\"\n\n\"In the way of what?\" Amy asked Anderson.\n\n\"Circulation,\" he replied.\n\n\"John, you still there?\" Bill asked.\n\n\"Yes, I'm here.\"\n\n\"Strangest thing: I put my head out into the elevator shaft and there is a breeze, along with a kind of whistling. Are you guys up to something I should know about?\"\n\n\"No, we're just talking. Which way is the breeze blowing?\"\n\n\"Down. What should I do with the probe?\"\n\n\"Leave it right where it is. I'll call you back soon.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nJohn cradled the receiver. \"Dr. Anderson, you have my undivided attention for as long as you desire.\"\n\n\"What's going on?\" Amy asked.\n\n\"Good. Then let's begin, at the beginning. There really is nothing.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on!\" Amy said.\n\nJohn said to Amy, \"Why don't you go and get us some cold sodas and sandwiches. And don't hurry.\"\n\n\"What the hell?\" Amy said as she left, slamming the door behind her.\n\n\"A moody lass,\" Anderson observed.\n\nJohn asked, \"When will the platforms collapse?\"\n\n\"That's not at the beginning.\"\n\n\"I'm a fast learner.\"\n\nAnderson sighed. \"I didn't say it was all going to collapse, and I didn't write these formulas up here for nothing. If you want to understand, you should listen.\"\n\nJohn acquiesced with a wave.\n\nAnderson continued. \"What I was going to say is that energy is everything. Without energy, there is nothing.\" He checked off the first equation. \"Let's discuss acceleration. Acceleration is energy in motion.\" Anderson crossed out the blue Earth with red chalk. With yellow chalk in hand, he pointed at the red circle and said, \"This...is reality.\"\n\nHe drew a concentric yellow circle inside the red one, with slightly less than half the radius of the first circle. Above the yellow circle he wrote \"64%\" in blue chalk and \"36%\" below it. With green chalk, he drew a line that bisected the red circle into halves, and another line tangentially. He then drew two thin circular lines between the yellow and red circles with purple chalk. He wrote \"32%\" above these lines and another \"32%\" below them.\n\nHe wrote \"the core\" in the red circle's center. Between the two purple lines, he wrote \"the interface.\" As he was drawing, Anderson said, \"There are two points of zero gravity.\"\n\nWhen he finished, he asked, \"What were we discussing?\"\n\n\"Acceleration,\" John answered.\n\n\"Ah, yes. So, you were paying attention. Good. Acceleration.\" He checked off two more formulas. \"Acceleration can be strange. Did you know that a feather accelerates at the same rate in a vacuum as a rubber ball? There are a lot of good experiments to demonstrate acceleration.\"\n\nJohn remembered one from the leaning tower in Pisa.\n\n\"If you had thought about acceleration, you would have realized you don't need any platforms.\"\n\n\"And when did you think about it?\" John asked, perturbed. They'd spent millions on these platforms\u2014for nothing?\n\n\"That's a moot point now, isn't it? You would merely have to fall to get inside my Earth.\"\n\nImpressive ego, John thought: \"my Earth.\"\n\n\"Let's say a man with a parachute was slowly drifting downward through a Vent. Where would he end up?\"\n\n\"I give up. Where?\"\n\n\"Why, here,\" Anderson said, pointing at the interface. \"Not good.\"\n\n\"Because he'd be floating around in nothing, forever,\" John said.\n\n\"Precisely\u2014but falling is good. It's acceleration and deceleration that gets you there. Your man is here.\"\n\nWhen he glossed over the red circle with chalk turned sideways, John saw the three-dimensional effect of a globe. On the tangential line outside of the red circle, Anderson wrote \"Alice Springs\" and under that, he wrote \"Anderson Vent One.\" Overhead, on the bisecting line, he wrote \"Anderson Vent Two.\" Again, he changed chalk and followed the tangential line to the yellow circle, where he drew a small red \"x.\"\n\nHe said, \"I think your man is fine because he has air and water, and he has light\u2014and where there is light, there is life.\"\n\n\"Why?\" John asked.\n\n\"Why, what?\" Anderson was marveling at his creation. The picture appeared to float above the board.\n\n\"Why is there light?\"\n\n\"Thought you would never ask.\" Anderson made an oblong circle around the rest of the equations. \"This is the answer.\"\n\nJohn looked dumbly at the circled formulas and equations.\n\n\"A magnificent presentation, Anderson; you ought to think about art as a profession. Look, you've baffled me with science, but you still haven't answered my question: Are the platforms doomed?\"\n\nAnderson reached into the globe and circled \"the core\" in yellow and drew squiggly lines from it in a 3-D effect. He moved one end of the blackboard, and his Earth turned. \"Welcome to my world,\" he announced.\n\nJohn tried to get his bearings. \"Wait a minute. That's not right.\"\n\n\"What's not right?\"\n\n\"What you said about falling. You said we didn't need any platforms because a man could simply fall from the surface to the inside, to your yellow circle. Bill threw a bird down, and it returned to the interface.\"\n\nAnderson finally turned from admiring his own illustration and asked, \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"When we were on Level Ten, Bill threw a bird down the shaft, and we watched it return on his computer monitor, at least partway.\"\n\n\"Let's see...Level Ten. That would be about here.\" Anderson drew a three-dimensional platform. \"How far did the bird fall?\"\n\n\"It went off the screen at one thousand kilometers, but then it came back. It kept bouncing back and forth around one thousand, and then it disappeared.\"\n\nAnderson followed the tangential line and drew a small, ball-like bird in the interface.\n\n\"Could that bird have ended up here, between both zero gravities, lost in the void? If it had started its descent from the surface, the bird would have ended in the interior. Now, you want to know if the platforms will be sucked into the vortex they have created? As the vortex moves upward and pressure increases, yes, I think they will\u2014beginning with the one Bill's on. An hourglass effect has been created that increases pressure until the obstruction is removed. When the first platform fails, it functions like a vacuum piston, pulling the others with it, like dominoes.\"\n\n\"When?\" John asked, hoping for enough warning to evacuate people.\n\nAnderson smiled. \"That's what the probe will tell us.\"\n\nJohn had thought the probe was to find out what was past the suction, but apparently Anderson already knew what was next.\n\nOf course, Anderson could be wrong.\n\nJohn reconnected with Bill. Anderson linked his laptop computer to the phone. Numbers immediately began streaming across the monitor, so the probe seemed to be working perfectly. For over an hour, Anderson directed Bill to move the probe slowly up and down through the vortex while he recorded the findings on paper.\n\nFinally, Anderson announced that he had enough information and hung up the phone. He erased the equations from the board and wrote new equations, using numbers from his computer. Point of maximum intensity equals force...total force to move five thousand kilos...total change in force between readings...extrapolate to future force.\n\n\"You're good for three weeks, possibly four, unless acceleration in force changes, but I don't think it will. By then you better have all your men out,\" Anderson said when he finished.\n\nHe wiped clean both boards, folded up his computer and started clearing books off the table.\n\n\"So what should we do?\" John asked.\n\nAnderson said, \"I don't know about you, but I'm leaving to meet with astrophysicists at Harvard who want me to explain my world.\"\n\nJohn asked, \"So what is in the core?\"\n\n\"Why, don't you see? Dark matter colliding with matter and converting into radiant energy. Otherwise, there wouldn't be a need for the Vents.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 31\n\nLATITUDE 68\u00b0 42' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 89\u00b041' WEST\n\nMonth 3, Day 11; 1600 UTC, 10:00 AM LTD\n\nMitch finished his morning exercises, showered, then sat on the foot of his bed in his t-shirt and shorts, thoroughly bored. He had already seen everything within walking distance in Pelly Bay. He'd stayed out of touch with the rest of the world in case his telephone calls were being monitored.\n\nHe could make his daily trip to the store for groceries. Donuts and milk were in low supply. He put on his fur coat and left the motel room.\n\nThe walk was the same as it had always been, except this time he saw two Inuit children sitting on the boardwalk near the entrance of the grocery store. Next to them were a large Malamute and a Brawny paper towel box. On the box was written: \"Free to good home.\" From the kids' patched clothing, Mitch guessed money was an issue at home.\n\n\"What do we have here?\"\n\nMitch sat on the boardwalk step and scooped up one of the five husky puppies. The mother dog put her paws in Mitch's lap. He patted her head, her tongue lolled while she panted.\n\n\"You need a good puppy?\" the boy asked.\n\n\"I'm headed somewhere that dogs aren't allowed. How old are you?\"\n\n\"Thirteen. My sister's only eight.\"\n\nHis sister scowled.\n\n\"My name's Mitch, but don't tell me your name\u2014you should never tell that to a stranger. I saw working dogs at Denali with legs as big as a man's arm.\"\n\n\"Neat.\" The boy was apparently the pair's self-appointed spokesperson.\n\n\"Yup. One dog could pull a sled with two riders.\"\n\nMitch played with the puppies and entertained the children with stories for more than two hours.\n\nHe finally bade the children farewell, went into the store and picked through aisles laden primarily with canned goods. As he left, he noticed a man standing next to the children, so he didn't stop.\n\nBack in his room, he'd scarcely had time to pour a glass of milk when the telephone rang.\n\nWhen he answered, Fishand said, \"I do hope you are enjoying our lovely country and our fine hospitality. Your check has not cleared yet.\" When Mitch didn't reply, he continued, \"But I do have a bit of news for you. I called your company headquarters and talked to...let's see, Sally. Do you happen to know Sally?\"\n\nAgain Mitch didn't respond, though he was grinning with secret glee.\n\n\"Well, we had a nice conversation and do you know what Sally told me? She said that your company doesn't care who we send with you as your guide. I even mentioned Bearters, and she said that would be fine with them. Now, what do you think about that?\"\n\n\"Not Bearters,\" Mitch said tightly.\n\n\"Well, it means you were telling a little white lie, weren't you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nIgnoring him, Fishand said, \"So, the council has met again, and we concluded Bearters is the one. Please, do try to get along. Bearters is not a bad fellow, and he is loyal to me, so don't try anything out of line.\"\n\n\"The deal's off,\" Mitch said, keeping the smile from his face so it wouldn't show in his voice.\n\n\"You don't want to be hasty because, regardless, we are keeping the proceeds. One more thing: The bank has validated that funds are available for this check to clear, so while we are waiting, I would like your company to fly up this helicopter you've talked about so that I can personally inspect it. One wrong thing, and I call off\u2014the deal and in such a case, I have the right to keep the money. Understood?\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Mitch growled.\n\n\"Have a nice day.\" Fishand hung up.\n\nMitch was delighted that his plan was working. He dialed a telephone number and code.\n\n\"Boster Denton, how may I help you?\"\n\n\"Sally Searsport, please.\"\n\n\"One moment.\"\n\n\"Hi Sally, it's Mitch.\"\n\n\"Where have you been? A man called and asked about you yesterday.\"\n\n\"Sally, open the bottom drawer of your desk. In the back, you'll find an envelope.\"\n\n\"Just a minute. Got it.'\"\n\n\"Please open it and follow the instructions inside. This is really important.\"\n\nWithout waiting for a reply, he hung up, then dialed another number.\n\n\"Hi, Mom. How are you? I'm on a business trip up north to collect the stuff we left behind.\"\n\n\"You be careful!\"\n\n\"Oh, I will. What have you been up to?\"\n\n\"I found a new friend.\"\n\n\"Really! What's he like?\"\n\n\"His name's Harold. I met him at church. He's _wonderful!_ Tall, handsome; he plays golf. He takes me out to dinner at least twice a week\u2014fancy restaurants, not greasy spoons. I want you to meet him; this could be _serious!_ \"\n\n\"When I get back, it's a date.\"\n\n\"Any girls in your life?\"\n\n\"No, Mom.\"\n\nMitch's last girlfriend had been five years ago, but his mother never gave up hope, even if Mitch had.\n\n\"You're not getting any younger.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"You have to work on relationships.\"\n\nThey talked for over half an hour before Mitch said goodbye, now with melancholy overlaying his boredom and loneliness. He knew he would never talk to his mother again.\n\nHe wadded up a hundred-dollar bill, draped his fur coat over his shoulders and walked back to the store.\n\nThe kids and the puppies were still there.\n\n\"This is Sally Searsport calling from Boster Denton. I have an important message for Colonel Wingert.\"\n\n\"This is he.\"\n\n\"How can I be sure?\"\n\n\"Mitch told you to call me, so he must trust you.\"\n\nThe man knew who had written the message. \"I'm supposed to read this to you word for word.\"\n\n\"Go on.\"\n\n\"It says: 'Hook, line, and sinker. Sir, with all due respect, please tell Lieutenant Mallory to get the fuck up here. Operation Scorpion is underway.'\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" the colonel asked.\n\n\"Yes, that's it.\"\n\n\"Shred it.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Shred the note, the envelope, and anything else that was with it. Mitch's life depends on it.\"\n\nAs she cradled the receiver, she heard the colonel say to someone, \"The clock starts now.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 32\n\nLATITUDE 82\u00b0 10' NORTH\n\nLONGITUDE 73\u00b0 42' WEST\n\nLAPTITUDE 68%\n\nMonth 3, Day 12, 2200 UTC\n\nCountdown: T-minus twelve days: five hours: thirty minutes: five seconds\n\nDes knew that, except for him, only those with Anasazi blood had been invited.\n\nThey gathered around the bonfire. Itar sat in his litter flanked by his guards. Anastasia, standing across from Itar, wore a simple yellow tunic and feathered headband. The flame illuminated half her face.\n\nDes lowered his head to the chopping block; Al\u00e9e raised her hatchet above his neck. The nearly one hundred people in attendance fell silent.\n\nAl\u00e9e screamed and her hatchet thudded into the wood.\n\nAdeyo and his woman began drumming wildly as both warriors and men danced. People brought earthenware pitchers and trays piled with food to tables; the guests began feasting.\n\nDes picked up the locks of his hair that Al\u00e9e had severed and presented them to the girl who had sold him sandals. She braided his hair with locks previously cut from Anastasia. Des waited patiently as the girl worked. When she finished, she adorned the braid with two small feathers\u2014the Anasazi symbol for wings.\n\nDes offered the braided hair to Anastasia, but she shook her head in silent refusal. She hadn't moved since the ceremony began. He returned to the chopping block and placed the ring next to the braid. He noticed the others behaved as though he and Anastasia didn't exist.\n\nAdeyo whooped.\n\nDes felt charged with excitement. He knew he would have to dance for her to accept him.\n\nThe drums stopped, then Adeyo began anew with a somber beat that quickened.\n\nDes began dancing near Anastasia, first in a classic solo Tango, practiced and timed with Adeyo's drums, but then Des' dance degenerated into male stripper moves that April Adams had once taught him.\n\nThe warriors were now watching him. Des was perspiring, so he removed his shirt. The warriors appeared enthralled as he continued to bump and grind.\n\nAnastasia cupped her hands over her eyes and mouth, laughing.\n\nDes lifted a full pottery vase from the table; it had two handles and two spouts. Anastasia drank from one spout, then he drank from the other. Des turned the vase and repeated the ceremonial toast. Finally, they drank together, not spilling a drop.\n\nThe bubbles raced over his tongue and down his throat, bringing a familiar flavor.\n\n\"What is this?\" Des asked her.\n\n\"It is elandra. The men make it.\"\n\nDes realized it was beer\u2014and pretty good beer at that. So, they weren't teetotalers after all.\n\nDes was handed a tarpaulin; he offered an edge to each of the women as he moved around the bonfire. Many accepted. They stretched the cloth among them, then laid it flat on the ground.\n\nAnastasia stepped onto the center with a wide smile. The women hoisted her up as they chanted; then they flung her skyward in time to the beat\u2014higher and higher.\n\nWhen Adeyo stopped drumming, the warriors released the tarpaulin. Des caught Anastasia as she fell. He thought a frenzied outburst would erupt, but everyone was silent, their faces grim. As he helped Anastasia to her feet, Des saw why.\n\nRawool stood with his foot on the chopping block, his moccasin covering the braided hair, while his followers milled in the shadows. He flexed his biceps.\n\nDes said to Rawool, \"Let's get this over with.\" Then in Anasazi, \"You want to fight for her?\"\n\n\"Abba,\" said Rawool. He walked to Des, spit on the ground, then pulled on Anastasia's arm.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi!\" Des screamed. He leaped at Rawool and jerked his hand off her. \"Don't you ever touch her, do you hear me?\"\n\nRawool twisted Des' arm and flipped him down.\n\nDes groaned as his back connected with the dirt, but he was quick to recover his footing.\n\nThe two men squared off and circled. Rawool kicked towards Des' head, but Des dodged the blow.\n\nDes turned his back, hearing murmurs from those around the cracking fire. Rawool grabbed Des' wrist, but Des spun around and kicked his rival in the solar plexus, followed quickly by a Judo chop to the carotid artery and pressure on both of Rawool's temples. Des knew from martial arts class that this combination would overload his opponent's autonomic nervous system and send his blood pressure crashing downward.\n\nRawool wobbled and fell. He quickly regained somatic muscular control, then rolled up and crouched, displaying a knife. He smiled and puckered his lips in intimidation, then flexed again.\n\n\"Not here,\" Des said.\n\nHe walked into the fire. As the flames rose above his head, Des concentrated on maintaining a surrounding coolness, but he still felt his legs begin to burn. Through the fire he saw Rawool sweating, so Des reemerged to confront him.\n\n\"We fight in the fire,\" Des said, pulling Rawool forward with one hot hand.\n\nRawool dropped his knife and backed away in amazement. Where Des had held him, his skin began to blister.\n\nRawool looked at Anastasia with a pained expression, then he turned and left without speaking.\n\nDes' legs began to throb. \"Anybody else?\"\n\nRawool's following faded away.\n\nAnastasia walked to the chop-block and picked up the braided hair. She had accepted him as her husband.\n\nAdeyo's drums began to thunder, and warriors and men started shouting chants.\n\nDes slipped the ring on Anastasia's finger.\n\nAnastasia slipped one arm from under her tunic. Then Itar unsheathed Des' sword and carefully slit the skin over both Des' and Anastasia's shoulders.\n\nDes clasped Anastasia's hand tightly; they held the two wounds firmly together shoulder to shoulder as their blood mixed and dripped into the bonfire.\n\nDes' scorched legs were still throbbing when they got home two hours later, so he felt simultaneously ecstatic and brutalized. He tried to ignore the pain, but was unable to sequester the sensation enough to hide his discomfort.\n\n\"You need to clean wounds,\" Anastasia said, inspecting his legs.\n\n\"I know,\" Des answered.\n\nHe got undressed and sat in the bathtub, where the cool water eased the burns.\n\n\"Share?\" he said to Anastasia.\n\n\"What is\u2014\" Anastasia smiled faintly. \"I know share.\"\n\nSoon she was wearing nothing but her ring, and was rubbing soothing emollients over his body. Des winced and groaned, but the pain from the blisters diminished. Eventually, Des pulled himself out of the tub and dressed in a fresh tunic.\n\nAnastasia pulled her tunic over her head and eyed him sympathetically. \"I need to get medicine.\"\n\n\"I'll come with you.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, and left.\n\nHe waited for her outside, where the air was cool and the breeze felt pleasant on his legs. There was only a hint of rain. He was thinking how marvelous it would be to spend his life with Anastasia when he saw her coming towards him with large leaves folded over her arm. He felt overwhelmed by her beauty.\n\nBack inside, Anastasia chopped the leaves, then wrapped them around Des' legs while he lay on her bed. He closed his eyes, the wedding echoing through his mind like a series of unattached visions.\n\nSeized with excitement, Des bolted upright.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" Anastasia asked him, concerned.\n\nDes remembered the Spanish words in the museum, on the door of the locked room and realized what the piled kegs inside contained.\n\n_It's not grog in those kegs. If it were rum, it would be gone._\n\nDes leaped off the bed, the leaves scattering to the floor. \"Ask Itar to meet me at the museum.\"\n\n\"When?\" Anastasia asked.\n\n\"Now. Yesterday\u2014two days ago. Tell him there is no time.\"\n\nHe slipped past Bethenna, who had appeared in the doorway.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e!\" Des shouted outside.\n\nShe came immediately, her war club ready.\n\n\"Follow me. We are going to kick ass.\"\n\n\"What is 'kick ass?'\"\n\n\"Brutalize the beasts, chew them up.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e hurried beside him. \"We eat beasts?\" she asked with an expression of distaste.\n\nDes followed the path to the museum's massive door and stopped. It was wide open and there was no guard outside.\n\nInside, the blowgun display was empty, the museum completely silent. The three locks still secured the inner room's door, so Des would need to break them if there were no keys. Opposite the padlocks were heavy metal hinges with pins splayed and sealed. It would be nearly impossible to remove the pins to open the door and keep the locks intact.\n\nDes pulled on the door, then pushed. The locks rattled and black dust billowed from around the wooden doorframe. He examined the middle lock, then yanked on it; there was no movement.\n\n\"Na, na, na, na, na!\"\n\nThe museum curator swooped in from nowhere to stand in front of the door, as though protecting a helpless child.\n\n\"Move!\" Des ordered her in Anasazi. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and partly withdrew the blade.\n\n\"Ah?\" The curator swallowed hard, her eyes fearful.\n\nDes wouldn't attempt to break the locks before Itar arrived, so he sheathed his sword. He peered through the opaque glass window and saw that the kegs were still inside.\n\nHe wanted to reexamine the hieroglyphics drawn on the inner sanctuary walls. He removed a lit torch from its wall sconce and headed towards the hidden room, followed by both Al\u00e9e and the curator.\n\nThe torchlight dimmed in the rock passageway. Des heard dripping water. The ovoid stone hadn't been reset to cover the entrance.\n\nHe inspected the wall, as well as the covered crystal skull. He had glanced at one mural; before now, he wanted to reexamine it. He saw the Earths and moved past them. He waved the torch low and illuminated the men chained together, looking gaunt; they were being beaten by beasts. There were stick figures and a white man holding a cup. Des waved the torch higher, then froze.\n\nThe pastoral setting he saw was unmistakably this new land. The sand painting depicted three horses grazing in a grassy meadow. A woman sat on the back of a fourth horse and watched.\n\n\"Des?\" Anastasia called from the darkened corridor.\n\nDes hurried past the curator with Al\u00e9e close behind him.\n\nItar's guards had set down his palanquin, the sides of which were draped in ecru cloth. Des placed the torch in its wall sconce as Itar's bare feet emerged. Itar pushed back the cloth, breathing heavily. His face was thin, his belly bulbous. Des was surprised by Itar's ill appearance; his condition had apparently worsened.\n\n\"I know what's in the locked room. It can kill beasts,\" Des said without preamble.\n\n\"It can kill everyone,\" Itar replied.\n\n\"Yes, I understand, but I can control it. Please, help me open that door.\"\n\nItar said softly to the museum curator, \"Asa bui \u00e1 tupo.\"\n\n\"Na, na, na, na, na!\" She was infuriated.\n\nDes put his hand on his sword. \"Abba, asa bui \u00e1 tupo. Boose, boost!\"\n\nShe turned and walked away, babbling incessantly. Des wasn't sure if she would return.\n\nThree minutes passed before she did from the rear of the museum, still mumbling to herself as she handed a key ring to Itar. The ring had more than twenty keys attached. They appeared to be brass and without rust or decay.\n\n\"I hope you know what you're doing,\" Itar said, handing the keys to Des.\n\n\"I hope so, too,\" Des replied.\n\nHe worked his way through them and unlocked two of the padlocks, but none of the keys fit the lowest lock\u2014its tumblers had rusted. With the flat of his sword, Des struck the padlock twice sharply. It sprung open.\n\nAs Des laid the key ring on the floor with the locks next to them, the curator wrinkled her mole-covered nose at him.\n\nItar said, \"You are sure...\"\n\nDes said, \"Absolutely. I wouldn't endanger all of us.\"\n\nWhen he heaved the door slightly ajar, black dust billowed around him. He looked at Itar, who motioned for Des to continue. The old woman did likewise\u2014in double time.\n\nDes knuckled onto the door where the locks had been and pulled. Al\u00e9e was now heaving, too. He heard a gentle hiss as air escaped, then the door swung wide open.\n\nThe chamber was dark, so Des waited just inside for his eyes to adjust.\n\nAl\u00e9e walked to the burning torch and lifted it from its sconce. She stood by the wall as Des moved deeper into the antechamber.\n\nThe elongated room was larger than Des had imagined. Literally hundreds of kegs filled its interior.\n\nDes pierced the side of one with his sword. When the contents streamed out, he let it run through his fingers. The black powder was dry. Coils of fuses were tied to the walls with hemp twine; in the rear of the darkened room were more fuses piled on squat tables.\n\nThe room lightened. Des whipped around to see Al\u00e9e standing in the doorway with a torch in her hand. The bone-dry timbers above her head were impregnated with centuries of gunpowder dust; they began to sizzle and pop.\n\n\"Noooo!\" Des screamed, running at her. He tackled her midriff, and they both fell to the museum floor outside the room. The torch skidded away from her hand as the doorway burst into flame.\n\nDes scrambled to his feet. The curator picked up the torch, her face aghast.\n\n\"Water!\" Des screamed. \"Itar, aqua, quickly!\"\n\nThe doorjambs were now in flames, and the fire was jetting towards the black powder spilled on the chamber's floor.\n\n\"Itar, aqua, or we're all dead!\" Des shouted.\n\nItar spoke tersely. His guards hurried to the Foods of the Earth display for the filled water vases.\n\nDes saw Anastasia running away. The lit torch had disappeared with the curator. The guards were heaving the vases towards the burning doorframe.\n\nDes went back inside through the flames. The room was filled with smoke, choking him. He tore off his tunic and held it over his face. With watering eyes, he separated the burning powder from that still untouched. Suddenly, a water vase appeared in the doorway. Des soaked his tunic in it and wrapped a torn piece around his hand. Through the doorway flames, he could see Anastasia with blankets in her arms. He dropped to his hands and knees and started wetting the floor. When his tunic dried, he plunged it into the water.\n\nThen everything went dark. For an instant, Des thought he had passed out, but he could still see flames in some areas of the floor, so he continued to extinguish them. When only darkness surrounded him, he burst out through the wet-blanketed doorway and lay wheezing and coughing on the floor.\n\nWhen his convulsive breathing had subsided, he looked up at Itar.\n\nDes coughed, \"If this baby had blown, it would have taken out the whole side of the mountain and the whole village would have been destroyed by mudslides.\"\n\nItar said in a fatherly tone, \"Is that not what is written on the door?\"\n\nDes patted down the doorway for the third time to make sure the wood was cool. The others had already swept up the remaining gunpowder and sealed it in urns. Des inspected the room until he was satisfied. He closed the door, locked it with the two remaining padlocks and tied the keys to his belt.\n\nHe found Itar reclining in his palanquin.\n\n\"Itar, what about horses?\"\n\n\"Horses?\"\n\nWhen Des whinnied like a horse, Itar smiled at the onomatopoeia.\n\n\"I want to know if anyone has horses, how many they have, and who can ride them.\"\n\nItar grinned. \"Horses,\" he said with finality. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 33\n\nT-minus (10:05:22:58)\n\nMallory sat at a small desk in the Chinook's Edmonton hangar. He caught Crow's eye and crossed his fingers.\n\nMitch watched the stocky, black sergeant return the gesture. The rest of the crew was already onboard.\n\nMallory turned on the phone's intercom. A woman finally answered. It had taken more than a minute for anyone to pick up.\n\n\"Lieutenant Mallory calling for Lieutenant McNally,\" Mallory said, his tone businesslike.\n\nMitch knew his plan hinged on the next few moments. He heard the woman say, \"Mike. Mike, telephone.\"\n\nA sleepy voice responded, \"Who would be calling me in the middle of the night? It's 0331.\"\n\n\"Lieutenant Mallory,\" the woman told him.\n\n\"What? Ah, oh.\" Then he said into the phone, \"Hello.\"\n\n\"Hey, Mike, we fixed the engine.\"\n\n\"Mallory, can't this wait until morning?\"\n\n\"No, it can't. I have my orders.\"\n\nMike's voice became more alert. \"You have orders for what?\"\n\n\"To leave as soon as the engine is fixed. It's fixed, so I just need you to call the tower and give us clearance to fly.\"\n\n\"You have orders to leave at 0332?\"\n\nMitch knew that this lieutenant of the Royal Canadian Air Force could get them off the ground at any hour.\n\nMallory said, \"That's why they call it the service, sir.\"\n\n\"Gee, won't you wait until I can see you off?\"\n\n\"I'd rather not, sorry. This has been a strain, with the mission being scrubbed, and the men are anxious to go home.\"\n\nThere was a pause before McNally replied. \"I can't get anybody over there to help you.\"\n\nMallory crossed fingers on both hands, holding the receiver against his ear with his shoulder.\n\n\"Not a problem, Mike. We've got a tractor here and a man who can run it. He can put our bird onto the square, then stow the tractor in the hangar. Thanks, anyway.\"\n\n\"If you're sure.\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm sure. It's been a pleasure.\"\n\n\"Yes, it has. Hold on.\" McNally spoke to someone else. \"Lieutenant McNally here. The American Chinook has my permission to leave asap.\" After a pause, he continued, \"Hey, they're Americans,\" then said to Mallory, \"Good luck.\"\n\nAfter hanging up, Mallory told Crow, \"Get on the tractor, we're out of here.\"\n\nThe hangar doors whirred open. Mitch and Mallory latched the helicopter and Crow tugged it outside slowly.\n\n\"I'm dousing the lights,\" Mallory called over the whine of the tractor.\n\nCrow pulled the helicopter to a white circle on the tarmac where Mallory unhitched it. The sergeant returned the vehicle to the hangar, then hopped aboard the chopper as the rotors began to turn.\n\nMitch, Mallory, Crow and three other crewmembers were crowded into the cockpit behind the seated pilot and copilot.\n\n\"Control tower to CH47E, military aircraft.\"\n\n\"This is CH47E. I read you loud and clear,\" the pilot replied.\n\nThe loudspeaker crackled. \"Control tower to CH47E. I have you cleared for takeoff in ten\u2014that's one, zero minutes\u2014and begin heading nine, zero...\" As the voice continued, everyone cheered and Mallory sighed with relief.\n\n\"One moment, CH47E. I have a hold. Do you copy? I have a hold.\" Mallory looked up at the loudspeaker. \"What the...?\"\n\n\"I copy,\" the pilot said calmly.\n\nEveryone else tensed as minutes passed.\n\nThe speaker crackled. \"CH47E, we have a power failure in your area. No lights, no lift.\"\n\n\"CH47E to tower. We carry our own power,\" the pilot said.\n\nThe copilot switched on all of the exterior helicopter lights.\n\n\"One moment, please. I still have a hold,\" the tower voice said.\n\nMallory hit the back of the pilot's chair. \"What now?\"\n\nThe pilot told the controller, \"I copy that, but we have a defined timetable. This is a military flight.\"\n\n\"I copy.\" Again, silence. \"I'm sorry, CH47E, I do not have your flight plan.\"\n\nThe pilot removed his headset earpiece and turned towards Mallory with a shrug.\n\nMallory said, \"Tell him that Lieutenant McNally has the flight plan and if he'll call him at home, he can fax it over.\"\n\nThe pilot replied, \"No way is he going to call an officer at this hour.\"\n\nMallory smiled. \"That's his problem, not ours. By the time they've reconnoitered, we'll be gone.\"\n\nFive minutes passed, then the controller radioed, \"CH47E, you are cleared for takeoff in three minutes.\"\n\nThe Chinook rose to altitude, circled and headed due south.\n\nMallory instructed his pilot to arc eastward, then head north.\n\nMitch watched Mallory greet Fishand on the aft ramp of the Chinook that had landed in Pelly Bay, and was surprised at the completeness of the helicopter's transformation. On the white fuselage in red, block letters was \"Boster Denton, Inc.\" Below in quotes, was _\"Save the Whales, Save the Earth.\"_\n\nMallory was chewing gum and wearing a baseball cap, Hawaiian shirt, shorts, white socks and sandals. Next to Mallory stood Crow with his baseball cap on backwards, wearing a muscle shirt and baggy pants. Mitch was at the top of the helicopter ramp.\n\n\"How-dee,\" Mallory said, chewing furiously, his hand extended.\n\nFishand focused on the helicopter's logo as he shook Mallory's hand.\n\n\"My name is Fishand. Are you in charge?\"\n\n\"Yup, I'm your man. Mallory's the name.\"\n\nTwo large Inuits followed Fishand up the ramp. Mitch recognized them as the guards he had encountered at the courthouse.\n\nMallory grinned and motioned towards Crow. \"And this is Ser...Crow.\"\n\nCrow nodded, no handshake. Fishand didn't volunteer the names of his guards.\n\n\"I'm here to inspect the ship,\" Fishand announced, lisping.\n\n\"Sure thing, buddy,\" Mallory said. He put his arm around Fishand's shoulder and led him forward.\n\nFishand's men stood inside idly while Fishand paced.\n\n\"First, some ground rules,\" he said.\n\n\"You betcha,\" Mallory replied affably.\n\n\"Your crew cannot leave the aircraft while it's here. Nothing new is to be brought onboard except Bearters, and Mitch will remain at his motel until you depart. You will be watched twenty-four hours a day. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Gotcha.\"\n\n\"No weapons of any kind are allowed.\"\n\nMallory had a .45 under his armpit; in fact, they were all armed. \"Firearms are against company policy,\" he agreed.\n\n\"If I find anything suspicious,\" Fishand lisped, \"then your clean-up mission will be scrapped, you go home, and I keep the check. However, you are to wait until the funds are deposited in an Inuit bank account, no matter how long that may take. Understood?\"\n\n\"Ten-four, buddy.\"\n\n\"Now, I inspect,\" Fishand said.\n\nMallory nodded. \"Follow me.\"\n\nSergeant Crow stayed close to Fishand, while Mitch moved behind the following Inuit guards. If Operation Scorpion soured at this juncture, the Inuits would be overtaken\u2014by force, if necessary\u2014and rolled to the tarmac below. The helicopter would become airborne within seconds, and Mallory would not send the encrypted code to transfer the million-dollar fund to the Inuit account.\n\n\"I see on your aircraft that you are opposed to whaling,\" Fishand said conversationally.\n\nMitch had discovered that Fishand not only knew a lot about whaling, but was the focus of an international investigation concerning illegal hunting, so this information had been integrated into his plan.\n\nMallory said, \"We catch 'em.\"\n\n\"Whales?\" Fishand asked, surprised.\n\n\"Hell, no. We catch anyone who is whaling illegally.\"\n\n\"How do you do that?\" Fishand seemed genuinely interested.\n\n\"I'll show you,\" Mallory said. \"This little operation is a sideline. Our real mission is to catch whale hunters.\"\n\n\"Is that so? Tell me, what do you do with the whale hunters you catch?\"\n\n\"String 'em up on the spot,\" Mallory deadpanned. When Fishand winced, he added, \"Ah, come on, buddy, just kidding.\"\n\nThe first cargo bay had empty floor space, and closed cabinets along the wall.\n\n\"Unlock the doors,\" Fishand commanded.\n\n\"They ain't locked.\" Mallory motioned to Crow.\n\nCrow flipped open all the cabinet doors to reveal empty shelves.\n\nFishand used a penknife to rap on the rear panels. Some sounded hollow.\n\n\"What's behind here?\" he asked.\n\n\"Why, you are a clever fellow,\" Mallory said. \"I've been around the world with those secret compartments, and no one else has ever found them.\"\n\nMitch didn't know where the ammunition boxes and guns were hidden, but he saw Crow surreptitiously unbuckle the leather thong securing his hidden Bowie knife.\n\n\"Go ahead, Crow. Show him the evidence,\" Mallory said.\n\nCrow pressed against the wall. Machinery whirred as ten of the cabinets moved into the room, then rotated sideways, revealing an open area three meters tall by eight meters long. Cold air gushed from the cavity, which held only a stack of large plastic space blankets lying on the floor.\n\n\"We usually pile boxes next to the wall so nobody will hit the switch by accident,\" Mallory said.\n\n\"What is this for?\" Fishand asked.\n\n\"We collect evidence on the hunters, usually whale parts that we retrieve from the sea, and put it in cold storage in the wall, so it's hidden from unfriendly eyes when we refuel. When we get home, we have the pictures we took from above and the evidence we collected from below. Neat, huh? We've sent lots of criminals to trial in international courts, and some get locked up for a very long time. Heavy fines, too.\"\n\nInside information like this could be lucrative if sold to the right people, so Mitch knew they were providing Fishand with a valuable commodity.\n\n\"Proceed,\" Fishand said.\n\nThe second cargo bay was empty and without cabinets.\n\nThe \"dogs\" sat in the third cargo bay.\n\n\"What do we have here?\" Fishand asked.\n\nMallory said, \"We call 'em 'fish.' When we spot whale hunters, we drop these and they swim underwater behind the whaling boat, scooping up the whale entrails they throw overboard.\"\n\nFishand walked around the vehicles; one had a gray space blanket inside the cockpit.\n\n\"Open this one.\"\n\nMitch hoped it wasn't filled with guns.\n\nWhen the hatch hissed open, Fishand jerked off the blanket, revealing only the control panel and stick.\n\n\"This fish controls the rest. The panels are heat- and light-sensitive\u2014got to keep 'em covered,\" Mallory said.\n\n\"You're an expert on whaling?\" Fishand asked him.\n\n\"Not a clue. I just fly where he tells me to.\"\n\n\"You have someone who can find these illicit hunters?\"\n\n\"You betcha.\"\n\nAs if on cue, a lanky man shuffled in.\n\nMallory said, \"There you are, Hans. I want you to meet somebody. Hans, Fishand.\"\n\nHans nodded.\n\n\"You are the one that knows about whaling?\" Fishand asked.\n\n\"Ja, I do.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 34\n\nT-minus (10:05:22:59)\n\n\"Bored yet?\" John asked when Bill answered the phone.\n\n\"Hell, no. If you keep paying me for just sitting here, that's what I'll do. Just send down the essentials, and a few more books,\" Bill replied.\n\n\"Listen, I have a couple of developments to tell you about. I'm bringing in a team to inspect the lower levels and try to spearhead across the void. Time is limited. We want to complete this operation in the next three weeks.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because Anderson said that's all the time we may have left. We're cutting holes in the upper platforms to perforate the floors and help with airflow and working our way down. Anderson thinks air is being sucked into this vent, and I don't want the platforms to be pulled down. We've finished drilling One and Two and are working on Three and Four.\"\n\nBill said, \"Did you ever fix the floor edges on One and Two?\"\n\n\"Fix what?\" John asked.\n\n\"One and Two are not on rollers. If the vent closes any more, they could buckle. If you've cut holes in them, you may have destabilized them even more.\"\n\nJohn said, \"Honestly, I don't know. But I'll check into it personally.\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Now.\" John cradled the receiver, then said to Amy, \"If Henry calls, I don't want to talk to him. Not now, maybe never.\"\n\n\"What's up?\" she asked.\n\n\"Trouble at both ends of the vent.\"\n\nApproaching Anderson Vent One, John and Amy passed a \"closed to the public\" sign, then John slowed at a makeshift RV park filled with press cars and television transmission vans with satellite dishes trained in seemingly haphazard directions. John stopped at the guard gate to display his pass. A throng of reporters gathered behind the chain-link fence on both sides of the roadway and shouted questions.\n\n\"Are we there yet?\"\n\n\"What's it like at the center of the Earth?\"\n\n\"What's happening now?\"\n\nJohn ignored them. The gates were opened, and he drove through.\n\n\"I wish we hadn't built it directly over the vent,\" John muttered.\n\nThe three-and-a-half-story, forest-green metal structure he referred to had been constructed on steel girders spanning the vent. John drove down the wood plank ramp to the interior and parked.\n\nThe ground foreman appeared, his hardhat and sunglasses covering his face. He was dressed in a dusty florescent orange shirt and baggy orange pants.\n\n\"Jimmy, we're going down,\" John told him.\n\n\"How far?\" Jimmy asked.\n\n\"Levels One and Two.\"\n\n\"Okay. I'll get the cage ready.\"\n\nJohn strode across the checkerboard of holes drilled through Level One's flooring and dropped to his knees.\n\n\"What are you looking for?\" Amy called from the elevator.\n\n\"This.\"\n\nHe inspected the buckled board along the edge. Underneath, the I-beam was twisted and ruptured where it had been set into the granite.\n\n\"Remove two or three of the floorboards around the edge and make sure the foundation struts are well-anchored. Do the same on Level Two,\" he told Jimmy.\n\n\"Will do,\" the foreman replied.\n\nJohn stood, brushing off his hands. \"That should fix it.\"\n\nJohn was enjoying his first chance to relax in days when Bill phoned his hotel room to report, \"Level Eighteen looks normal. Level Nineteen, where we are now, has a slight dish to the floor.\"\n\nJohn asked, \"How slight a dish?\"\n\n\"About three centimeters downward in the center.\"\n\n\"Is that significant?\" The blind leading the blind, John thought.\n\n\"Well, probably not. Our main problem is that we can't shoot across the void from here. We need another platform, closer.\"\n\n\"We don't have time to build another platform. What's wrong with shooting across?\"\n\n\"The cable's not long enough. We have one hundred kilometers of cable, and the void is almost one hundred kilometers away, so we can shoot to it, but not across it,\" Bill explained.\n\n\"Can you splice cables together?\" John asked.\n\n\"Yeah, but I don't know if the splices would hold.\"\n\nJohn said, \"Maybe not normally, but where you are\u2014and, especially, where the void is\u2014you could run a freight train across it; it wouldn't weigh even a pound.\"\n\n\"You're right,\" Bill agreed, \"OK, we'll give it a go. The air's fine\u2014no carbon monoxide. There's two percent higher oxygen content, and five atmospheres of pressure. Otherwise, it's about the same as what you're breathing, maybe a little cleaner. We're taking off our suits.\"\n\n\"If you send Sam through the void, I want him in a suit. Understood?\"\n\n\"Understood.\"\n\n\"Let me speak with Jack.\"\n\n\"Hold on.\"\n\nJack Squires answered. John asked him, \"Are your rocket birds ready?\"\n\n\"We haven't unpacked.\"\n\n\"Well, get them ready. I want a complete tomography of what's below you as soon as possible. Skip the void and send me what's on the other side because I'm not risking another man without knowing. Are you as good as you said you were?\"\n\n\"Better. I'll get right on it,\" Jack replied.\n\nNinety minutes passed before he telephoned John.\n\n\"You gotta see this! Check your computer. I've already uploaded,\" Jack said happily.\n\nJohn watched his monitor as the corkscrew image drawn by the rocket's electronics became a spiraling three-dimensional column. He typed commands to rotate the image turning it lengthwise, allowing him to simulate traveling downward through the void, then bisected the column from points outside. The digitized tomography program was working beautifully.\n\nThe bird became lost in the void and couldn't be retrieved, but John now had a map of the vent, including the cone-shaped entrance to the void.\n\nA second rocket bird was launched with an altered program. It swooshed down the center of the column displayed on John's monitor. Numbers rolled by on the lower right hand side: 150 km...200 km...300 km. At 500 km, a spiral line was drawn that transformed into another column, and the numbers decreased as the bird returned. At 360 km, the spiral flared inward into a cone; at 350 km, the bird was lost.\n\nJohn brought up the entire image on his monitor, rotated it, cruised through the fuzzy void and sliced through the columns. He was impressed by what had been produced. He now knew the void was 100 km away from Jack, and 250 km across.\n\nOn the far side were a mirror image cone and a tunnel to the core.\n\nThere was a light knock on John's hotel room door, then Amy let herself in without waiting for a reply. She was wearing a short black skirt, white blouse and three-inch heels; makeup coated a reddened blemish on her neck.\n\n\"I was detained,\" she said.\n\n\"So I see,\" John said, adjusting the laptop's volume. \"We can hear them, but I need to use the phone for them to hear us.\"\n\nHe dialed Level Nineteen, then panned the remote camera across the platform by keyboard. Jack was typing at the table, but didn't answer John's call. There were three other men: Lyle Emery, the mustached foreman of the group; Sam Hilderman, the cocky teenager who had already traveled into the void; and James Westmore, a forty-two-year-old aerospace engineer.\n\nWhen Emery picked up the receiver, John asked, \"Are you ready now?\"\n\n\"Let me check,\" then he asked Jack, \"Have you figured out the trajectories yet?\"\n\nJohn told Amy, \"Jack figured out the trajectories yesterday with Westmore, so I wonder what he's working on now.\"\n\nJack said, \"Yes. Tell John we're ready.\"\n\n\"Ready,\" Emery relayed to John.\n\n\"Go for it.\"\n\nA tubular structure at the far edge of the platform housed a three-meter-long rocket pointed down through a two-meter-diameter hole cut into the floor. Coils of cable were attached to its side and four drums were lined up nearby; over four hundred kilometers of cable had been spliced together. Emery unbuckled the straps securing the rocket to the frame.\n\n\"Let it ease out slowly. I'll take over at fifty meters,\" Jack said as he began typing on his laptop.\n\n\"All clear!\" Emery announced. He hit the remote launch, and the rocket flashed slightly before it disappeared. \"Power bird away!\"\n\nTen seconds passed before Emery said, \"Fifty meters.\"\n\n\"I got her,\" Jack said.\n\nCable snaked off the floor, then continued to play out from the first drum.\n\nJohn focused the remote camera onto Jack's monitor and enlarged the image; he saw numbers flash across the bottom.\n\nJack announced, \"Twenty kilometers per hour...forty...eighty, one-twenty...two hundred...two-fifty.\"\n\nA cone-shaped image appeared in three-dimensional graphics and a bright white dot raced toward the bottom of the cone. The image rotated as Jack sliced through the tubular wall and tailed the flashing beacon.\n\n\"Three-fifty KPH. Four hundred. Interface,\" Jack said.\n\n\"The first drum's empty. We're on to the second,\" Emery told John.\n\nJack said, \"Five hundred.\"\n\nThe scrolling numbers slowed.\n\n\"Trajectory?\" Westmore asked.\n\nJack said, \"It's in the eye of the needle.\"\n\nEmery announced when the second drum emptied, and the third. John followed the flashing dot on Jack's monitor. Thirty minutes passed.\n\nJack said, \"Past interface. Gentlemen, the rocket is climbing.\" And when a new set of numbers appeared: \"Impact in t-minus eight minutes.\"\n\n\"How does he know when it will impact?\" Amy asked John.\n\n\"Radar. The time is extrapolated from the speed.\"\n\n\"T-minus seven minutes, forty-three seconds.\"\n\nAs the distance increased, the timeline moved rhythmically to zero.\n\n\"Impact,\" Jack announced.\n\nClaws snapped forward from the base of the rocket and planted it firmly in the rock wall past the interface.\n\nJohn watched Jack swirl the image to hone in on the white dot; numbers flashed, calculating the bird's position. John panned the remote camera around the platform. Motors on the fourth drum roared, tightening the cable. Emery fired a stake gun to affix the taut cable to the floor. Sam was getting into a spacesuit.\n\nThe men carried the Boster Denton Luge Glider to the floor opening. Emery snapped electromagnets on its underbelly around the cable and the men positioned its lightweight body with handgrips downward.\n\n\"Ready?\" Emery asked.\n\nSam nodded and put on his helmet. The spacesuit had been deemed unnecessary. Emery helped him into the luge harness that held him prone against the machine.\n\nEmery then turned on the power and the encircling magnets sprang off the cable.\n\n\"Neat, huh? No friction,\" he called over to Jack.\n\nJack was fully absorbed with his computer and didn't acknowledge him.\n\n\"Jack! What are you doing?\" Emery asked.\n\nJack answered, \"His beacon is on; I've got him. You better check his microphone.\"\n\nJohn enlarged his view of Jack's monitor just in time to see the program he had been working in change to another one, displaying Sam's beacon and the vent.\n\nAmy was watching over John's shoulder. \"I'll run a more thorough background check on him,\" she said.\n\nWestmore sat next to Jack and looked at his monitor. \"Slide him away easy. Ignition at one kilometer.\"\n\nJack pulled his headset microphone close to his mouth and said to Sam, \"Ease out slow, then fire-up at one K.\"\n\nSSPS jets fired momentarily and Sam dropped through the floor.\n\nFour minutes later, Jack announced, \"One kilometer. Extend wings for rotation control. Ignition.\"\n\nThe flashing light on the monitor moved downward. Jack rotated the view so the display followed the dot.\n\nHe told Westmore, \"He should be in the void in less than an hour.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 35\n\nT-minus (08:12:59:59)\n\n\"All clear!\" Des called.\n\nNone of the fifteen warriors moved.\n\n\"Des, what does 'all clear' mean?\" Anastasia asked.\n\nThe keg of explosives was half-buried in the sand; the thinly covered fuse snaked away from it and down the beach.\n\n\"That's going to explode. Ka-boom!\"\n\n\"Ah-ee-comralla-ralla. Ka-boom!\" Anastasia called.\n\nThe warriors scattered.\n\n\"That's better,\" Des said. He rolled out another fifty meters of fuse. \"Al\u00e9e, torch please.\"\n\nShe handed him the lit torch.\n\n\"Ready? All clear? Here we go.\"\n\nHe touched the torch to the fuse and backed up another thirty paces.\n\nThe fuse burned until it was twenty meters from the keg...then it fizzled out.\n\n\"Stay back! It still might blow!\" Des said, reinforcing his words with pantomime before inching along the blackened fuse towards the keg.\n\n\"What the\u2014?\"\n\nHe removed the charred, wet body of a crayfish from the fuse, then heard a pop, crackle and fizz. He started running, then leaped just as the gunpowder ignited; the explosion carried him fifteen meters through the air. He landed uninjured and the keg staves pummeled the sand around him.\n\n\"It worked! God Almighty, it's a success!\"\n\nEveryone clapped hands and whooped.\n\nDes stood, brushing sand from his tunic. \"We need to load the next one with flak.\"\n\n\"What is 'flak?'\"\n\n\"Shards of metal to maim and kill beasts.\"\n\nDes jogged on the beach with Al\u00e9e, her warriors and some of the stronger men.\n\n\"Pick it up, pick it up,\" Des chanted.\n\nAl\u00e9e stopped ahead of the group and surveyed the horizon. She pointed past Oom's hut.\n\nDes looked, but saw nothing. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Elantros,\" Al\u00e9e said.\n\n\"Where?\" Des inquired.\n\nThe sand shifted slightly as the ground thundered.\n\n\"There!\" Al\u00e9e said as her troops whispered in anticipation.\n\nAs the thundering sound grew louder, Des saw children running towards the beach from the village.\n\nAnastasia said excitedly, \"Many have never seen elantros!\"\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, have your troops hold the children back. If they have never seen elantros, they won't understand their power. Don't spook them.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e lined her troops along the beach to stop the approaching villagers.\n\nNow, Des saw dozens of galloping horses. Elan rode a chestnut thoroughbred with a braided mane and tail that glistened in the sun. Following her, each warrior held a war club crosswise above a well-groomed steed: a bay quarterhorse, paints, pintos, Arabians and Appaloosas. Most of the riders were women, but there were a few men. All the horses had braided manes and tails, war paint and gaily colored woolen blankets, but no saddles. Two hemp ropes encircled each throatlatch and withers; the horses' heads were free of bridles or halters.\n\nNow the entire village was turning out to see them. Al\u00e9e's warriors faced the gathering crowd.\n\nThe horses slowed to a trot, then stopped.\n\nDes guessed Anastasia had seen elantros before, because she had gone down the beach with some of the warriors to place husk-covered coconuts in rows on the sand.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi,\" Elan shouted. Her horse was pawing and neighing. She held her hand high in the air towards Des and bowed her head.\n\nAll the riders saluted him in the same way.\n\nDes returned the gesture, then walked in front of the line of standing horses to review them. He counted forty-two, all in excellent condition.\n\nAnastasia had returned, breathless. \"Des, we rally now.\"\n\nThe rider next to Elan war-whooped, kicked her horse and was off at a dead run down the beach. The crowd screamed and ran after her. Al\u00e9e's warriors were moving to stay between the villagers and the galloping horse.\n\n\"What's happening?\" Des cried to Anastasia, as she ran after the others.\n\nThere was a crack. A coconut flew high in the air and hung for a moment before dropping to the ground. The horsewoman had whacked it with her war club.\n\nThe crowd stopped to cheer with delight.\n\nSometimes the horses ran in pairs, with the riders relaying a coconut back and forth between them. Horses charged at each other, almost colliding, and the coconuts would sail.\n\n\"Look, Des,\" Anastasia said as she pointed up the beach.\n\nDes saw a woman standing on the back of her loping horse. A man was riding towards her. He popped up a coconut, and she swatted it back.\n\nThe crowd went wild. Now Des was jumping with enthusiasm, too.\n\nFour riders came abreast. The first one batted a coconut into the air. The second rider kept it midair, as did the third, and also the forth.\n\nThe show lasted for more than an hour.\n\nThe seated camel bawled when Des threw a sixth sack of corn on her back, but at least the villagers wouldn't starve.\n\n\"Are you sure the place they're going is safe?\" Des asked Anastasia.\n\nShe shrugged. \"They want warriors to go with them to protect them.\"\n\n\"No can do. We need all the warriors here, ready to fight.\"\n\n\"What if they are attacked?\"\n\nDes motioned for the driver to move on. When she clicked her tongue, the camel stood up.\n\nDes replied, \"They won't be attacked. The beasts will come here first.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Anastasia asked.\n\n\"Because they want me. They see me as the instigator, the one who started this fight, so they will track me down.\"\n\n\"Take care of Anastasia,\" Bethenna told Des, hugging him hard.\n\nDes was truly surprised. Not only was Bethenna hugging him, but also she had spoken in English.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi,\" Des replied.\n\nThe caravan started moving. Camels carrying supplies, children, the sick and the elderly were followed by most of the village's sheep and cattle.\n\n\"Tell Bethenna we'll send word when we have defeated the beasts,\" Des said.\n\nAnastasia relayed the message to her sister, who smiled faintly before joining the departing line.\n\n\"Itar is too weak to travel,\" Anastasia said.\n\nItar! Des hadn't seen him for almost a week. He had been too busy preparing the troops.\n\n\"Of course he can stay\u2014in fact, I need him. But he must leave his house before the beasts arrive. The lower village should be empty; he can stay in the museum. The door there can be locked and the roof slats are too narrow for the beasts to slide through.\"\n\nNearly fifteen hundred souls left the village that day, bound for havens down the coast and inland. As the warriors brushed away their families' footprints, Des inventoried who was left, besides himself and Anastasia:\n\n496 women warriors\n\n62 men\n\n42 horses\n\nItar and his two guards\n\nSix young girls who were the fastest runners he could find.\n\nAnd, hopefully, God was on their side, too.\n\nThe captains encircled the fire at Say-ance, watching as Des wrapped a dry banana leaf around a pile of gunpowder and tied the roll with vine.\n\n\"Make sure it's tight so the powder stays inside.\"\n\nAnastasia translated.\n\nDes cradled the packed leaf in a forked branch. Al\u00e9e lit the leaf with her torch, then Des hurled the firebomb. It exploded, showering sparks and burning leaf.\n\n\"That should get their attention,\" Des said with satisfaction.\n\nThe lower village would remain empty in case the beasts mounted a surprise attack. The horses would be moved to a higher location to prevent the livestock paddocks from being raided\u2014Des suggested Adeyo's flat space on the mountain, and the captains concurred.\n\n\"They may or may not send a sentinel boat this time, but we have to bury the powder kegs in the sand just before the beasts arrive to keep the powder and fuses dry, so we need an early warning system. Using Adeyo's drums failed last time, so we should devise a better system.\"\n\nAfter Anastasia translated, Al\u00e9e suggested round-the-clock canoes out at sea.\n\nDes nodded. \"Good suggestion. Al\u00e9e, have canoes in the water at all times, beginning tomorrow. Station them just offshore at Oom's, so when you see the beast boats, you can alert Oom first. Adeyo should watch, too, so if he sees something, he can use his drums.\" He turned to Anastasia. \"Where is Itar?\"\n\n\"He is at home, not feeling well.\"\n\nDes made a mental note to visit him.\n\n\"I want everyone to practice burying the powder kegs and fuses on the beach one more time, then we'll store them in E-shandra.\"\n\nHe explained how he wanted linear strips cleared through the forest and up the mountainside, then loaded with dry timbers and grass, referring to the cleared areas where beasts could be trapped as \"shooting galleries.\"\n\nElan proposed that her cavalry fight from the beach to push the beasts towards the warriors on the mountain, describing thundering horses plowing into the enemy and causing major havoc. Al\u00e9e countered with the argument that their forces would then be split. Des agreed and announced that the cavalry would begin behind the foot-warriors. Horsewomen left on the beach might be overtaken and lost early in the battle.\n\nIf only he'd realized that not all the beasts would come by sea. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 36\n\nT-minus (06:02:32:16)\n\nJohn panned the camera to the hole in the platform floor and saw the nose of the luge appear.\n\n\"Help me pull him up,\" Emery told Westmore.\n\nThe two men grabbed grips on each side and slid the machine back onto the platform. Emery thumped Sam's helmet while Westmore unclipped his harness.\n\n\"You okay?\"\n\nSam nodded. Emery turned off the magnets, then the men hauled Sam to his feet. He was furiously unzipping the front of his suit.\n\n\"So, what's it like on the other side?\" Westmore asked.\n\n\"I need to pee,\" Sam said as he hurried towards the Port-o-potty.\n\nJack said, \"He's an exceptional explorer, that one. Being on the other side seems to focus your attention away from mandatory bodily functions.\"\n\nEmery shouted to Sam through the closed door, \"Hey, what's out there past the interface?\"\n\n\"I want to talk to Sam as soon as possible,\" John said as soon as Emery picked up the phone.\n\nEmery said proudly, \"We've put a man past the void, past the interface, past zero gravity, and into the vent to the core. Even more importantly, we have successfully brought him back.\"\n\n\"So, what did he say? What's it like?\" John asked.\n\n\"He said it's a lot like the vent here, only the gravitational field is reversed.\"\n\nMore than halfway, John thought, with a little over two weeks left before it might not be safe to continue. \"Thank you. You have done well.\"\n\nThe platform elevator approached, then slowed; the elevator normally changed cables before reaching Level Nine. Bill heard gears grinding on spindles, then the abrupt clank of the locking device setting teeth in the new cable. After engagement, the lift whisked past his level with four men on the elevator; one waved to Bill as they ascended.\n\nBill leaned his back against the table and returned to the engrossing novel he was reading. As he reached for his coffee cup, the warning \"all clear\" light flickered purple then turned blue. The signal didn't register with Bill until he'd read another five sentences, then he stared at the dome in disbelief, his book sliding to the floor, forgotten.\n\nThe walls crunched and Bill heard the floor roll in and out as if the walls were breathing. He grabbed for the phone, then dropped the receiver. He knew the rules: If the light came on, get out immediately.\n\nThe elevator shaft was empty\u2014both the platform carrier and cage were elsewhere. He pounded on the call button for the cage.\n\n\"Come on,\" he muttered.\n\nThe walls breathed again, but they had moved before without any problems, so maybe there had just been a light malfunction. He had seen the platform elevator pass by. That elevator was faster than the cage, and the four men on it hadn't seemed troubled, so what could possibly be wrong? John said they had fixed One and Two. He checked the elevator directory; the cage was at Level Four, changing cables.\n\nBill thought that someone was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he got topside.\n\nAlarms were sounding as John and Amy rushed into the control room over Anderson Vent One.\n\n\"Turn that shit off!\" John had to holler to be heard.\n\nThere were five control operators in the room. One hit a switch, and the alarms quieted.\n\n\"What's the problem?\" John asked Timothy Land, the operations manager. Land was seated before an eight-meter by four-meter wall-screen displaying the fuzzy image of the back of a man in a hardhat with a pack of cigarettes in his rolled-up sleeve.\n\n\"We've had destabilization of platforms One and Two due to structural damage at the granite wall seams,\" he replied.\n\n\"English, man, English,\" John pleaded.\n\n\"Platform one is cracking up and in danger of failing.\"\n\n\"What do you mean 'cracking up?'\" John asked in disbelief.\n\n\"How many men are down there?\" Amy asked.\n\n\"Five. I've turned on the warning lights. The four men who had been on Level Nineteen are almost out. The one on Level Nine hasn't moved, but I've sent the cage down to get him. Wait a minute. There he goes.\"\n\nJohn looked towards the mountains of construction materials in the adjacent warehouse.\n\n\"Are we in any danger here?\" he asked.\n\nLand said, \"I don't think so. I've ordered all of the doors to be left open just in case we do experience any suction.\"\n\n\"What can we do to re-stabilize One?\" John asked.\n\n\"Nothing until we get the elevator back. The elevator is totally separate from the platforms, not integrated like the cage is. I'll assemble a team to inspect One as soon as it arrives.\"\n\n\"Destabilization of Platform One almost complete,\" an operator announced from across the control room.\n\nJohn didn't have to ask what that meant. He knew it was bad, very bad.\n\nLand now had Platform One displayed on the wall monitor. They watched it buckle centrally, then fall.\n\n\"Power loss in the cage cable,\" someone called from across the control room.\n\n\"The four men are safe,\" another operator said.\n\n\"Where the hell is Bill?\" John asked.\n\nLand said, \"He's on or near Three, as far as I can tell. The phones went out a few minutes ago, but I've got them back up now and I really need to talk to him.\"\n\n\"Then dial him up!\" John said angrily.\n\n\"I tried. I can't.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"The line's busy...He needs to get below Level Five.\"\n\n\"Why?\" John asked.\n\nLand said, \"We haven't got time to bring him up now, even if we had power and pulled up the cage at maximum speed. Plus, there's got to be a lot of debris falling in the vent. Level Five is reinforced; the floor is anchored with perpendicular struts because every fifth platform was built to withstand additional force. It will hold, but Bill needs to get below it now.\"\n\nBill's cage stopped just short of Platform Three.\n\n\"Now, what the hell?\" he muttered.\n\nHe forced open the cage door, climbed up to the platform and went over to the desk where he picked up the telephone receiver. It was dead. He dropped the receiver and was removing the elevator switch cover when the telephone beeped through the earpiece, then repeated.\n\nDebris from Level One crashed onto Level Two and the platform Bill was on shuddered. The cage suddenly activated and ascended to the floor, nearly slicing into Bill's hand.\n\n\"Well, it's about time,\" he said, climbing onboard and closing the gate. He pressed the up button but nothing happened\u2014the gears above him hadn't changed cables.\n\nThe telephone beeped again. Bill heard a rumbling noise approaching from above. He looked up the elevator shaft, but couldn't see anything. The warning light flickered.\n\nHe left the cage as the rumbling got louder and flicked the button on the telephone several times.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\nA voice spoke rapidly, but Bill couldn't make out the words.\n\n\"I can't hear you. There's a lot of noise here.\"\n\nThe voice shrieked, \"The platforms are falling. Get below Five!\"\n\nBill knew exactly what that meant because he had designed the system where every fifth platform was reinforced.\n\nHe'd made it halfway back to the cage before there was a crunching in his skull.\n\nLevel Three swayed, buckled, then fell towards Four. Bill was already dead.\n\n\"Where the hell is Bill?\" John watched the monitor with horror.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Land said. \"I warned him and started the cage down before the impact, but I don't know if he's on it.\"\n\nThe cage icon stopped at Level Four to change cables, then was obliterated.\n\n\"Well, now we know,\" John said grimly.\n\nThe debris from all four upper levels fell towards Five.\n\n\"It will stop at Five,\" Land said confidently.\n\nJohn said, \"A lot of fucking good that's going to do Bill\u2014or us.\"\n\nWhen an air horn blasted, John beat it with his fist until it fell off the wall.\n\n\"Suction!\" Land yelled.\n\nJohn looked at Amy and shrugged.\n\nA sharp wind whisked through the room; everything moved that was not bolted down. Papers flew madly. Amy shrieked as she was pulled towards the door. John grabbed her arm and held onto the jamb. In the warehouse, cyclone-force wind scattered the construction materials.\n\nThe suction lasted five minutes, then everything settled to the floor.\n\n\"Impact on Five, coming up.\" Land hadn't moved from his computer.\n\nJohn turned towards the screen, stunned by all that was happening.\n\nLand said, \"Impact.\"\n\nDebris slammed into Platform Five. It shuddered, then held.\n\n\"That looks like the end of it,\" Land said.\n\nJohn told Land, \"We've still got the platform elevator. Get a team down to Level One as soon as possible to see what's left. Build pseudo-platforms from there, if you have to, to get cables running down to Five. Anderson said we have at least two weeks left before the platforms below Five could be in danger, but I'm giving you only twenty-four hours to get to Five. Move your teams\u2014we are fucking out of time.\"\n\nThe floor on Level Nineteen emitted a high-pitched sound, and began to vibrate; the warning light slid across the table and crashed to the floor. The vibration tone lowered an octave. The platform shook, as everything not bolted down moved towards the center. A coffee mug smashed to the floor, then another. The cable extending downward from the frame went limp as the telephone jangled off the table.\n\nThen the entire platform was sucked into the void. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 37\n\nT-minus (04:16:03:15)\n\nDes had gotten his warriors ready for evening calisthenics on the beach when Anastasia ran up to him, breathless and very pale.\n\n\"Itar is ill,\" she gasped.\n\nItar! Des had forgotten to visit him. He felt faint as he wheeled around to the warriors, his eyes blurred with sudden tears.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, quickly!\" he called, as he began running towards the museum. Al\u00e9e, Anastasia and Ray-na followed him, but more slowly.\n\n\"No, it can't be,\" Des repeated under his breath as he ran.\n\nItar's guards stood outside the open door. Not a good sign, Des thought as he hurried past them.\n\nInside, Des allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light as he caught his breath. The curator stood stone-faced.\n\n\"Where is Itar?\" Des demanded of the old woman.\n\nShe didn't move.\n\nAfter surveying the main room, Des bolted down the torch-lined corridor that led to the inner sanctum. He slipped inside.\n\nItar's palanquin was next to the uncovered quartz skull; the curtains were drawn. Torches encircled both.\n\n\"Itar, it's me, Des.\"\n\nDes drew back the cloth. Itar's chest heaved no more. His eyes stared upward.\n\n\"Dammit! No! Breathe!\"\n\nDes pressed vigorously on Itar's heart and pumped. He put his mouth against cold lips and blew. He tried again in vain, but Itar wasn't ill\u2014he was dead.\n\nDes said, his voice quivering, \"Oh my God, I abandoned you when you needed me most. How can I ever be forgiven?\"\n\n\"Des?\" Anastasia was next to him, tears streaming down her face.\n\n\"It's no good. I can't do anything.\" He wanted to say more, to console her, to comfort her, but was grief-stricken himself. He hugged her tightly.\n\nAl\u00e9e entered the room. He said to her, \"Tell the others; we have a funeral to attend.\"\n\nThe procession moved silently up the mountain. Itar's guards insisted on carrying his body, which they did with poles over their shoulders. Itar lay on a woven reed stretcher between them.\n\nDes climbed behind the guards, Anastasia by his side. He thought about how he had met the old man when Des had been injured and laying on a hospital bed in an unknown and primitive land. He thought of Itar's quick wit, and once the communication barrier had been breached, of how he had grown to appreciate Itar's council and love the man himself. He remembered how Itar had shown him the treasure in the museum with its hidden secret\u2014the crystal skull, how Itar's eyes had twinkled when he asked Des, \"Good show?\" Now he was gone. Those same eyes would never see again. No longer could Des depend on Itar's sound advice; he excoriated himself for the missed opportunities in recent days.\n\nWhen they reached the grassy meadow, a three-meter-tall bier had already been built. The surrounding ground was charred in four places.\n\nDes helped the warriors lift Itar's body onto the bier and cover him with a silken white cloth. Four warriors remained close, holding torches.\n\nOom arrived, covered with soot, and stood in the shadows of the trees.\n\nDes hugged him.\n\nAdeyo drummed with bowed head.\n\nRayna placed the broken bow and arrow from the museum display on Itar's chest.\n\nDes noted that no one stood where Itar had sat to deliver the last eulogy. He waited until everyone was present. Itar's guards flanked Des; Anastasia was by his side, and Ray-na and Al\u00e9e stood next to the guards. All faced the warriors. Nobody spoke, no one cried. Des knew this was the way of the people.\n\n\"Itar is a god,\" Des said loudly in the Anasazi language. \"Ah-tak-oon\u00e9 sana, \u00e1 oo\u00e9 sana nana say!\"\n\nThere were murmurings among the warriors.\n\nDes continued in Anasazi: \"Itar has taken his rightful place among the gods and watches over us. He protects us from evil, and delivers us from servitude.\"\n\nDes nodded to the torchbearers.\n\nThey lit the bier. It erupted with towering flames.\n\nAnastasia spoke briefly to the timekeeper. His shadowy figure flittered away from the clock.\n\nDes watched the lodestone carve a new line in the sand.\n\n\"The timeline is too long,\" Des said.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Anastasia asked him.\n\n\"Who built this timepiece?\"\n\n\"The ancient ones. It is recorded in the runes.\"\n\n\"What runes?\"\n\nAnastasia led Des to an antechamber. Inside, he waved his torch from side-to-side. The room was an eight-meter cube, with a flat, granite ceiling above a parallel granite floor. It was like a vault without a door. The walls were smooth and covered in hieroglyphics. Des understood none of it, until he found pictographs.\n\n\"Oh, my God!\" Des exclaimed.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Look!\"\n\nAnastasia said, \"It is a bird.\"\n\nIt wasn't a bird. It was an airplane.\n\n\"The beasts must not find this,\" Des said, wondering what other secrets were hidden in the runes.\n\nOutside the cave entrance, warriors carried baskets laden with fruits and nuts. They placed them alongside urns filled with water within the cavern's entrance.\n\nWarriors brought up coils of hemp rope ten centimeters in diameter.\n\nDes now realized the beasts would slaughter all of them if he didn't win this battle, just like they had done to the ancient ones. Technology hadn't saved the more advanced society; the beasts must have overtaken the ancients by brute force. Thousands of beasts\u2014or maybe tens of thousands\u2014had overrun and annihilated another culture. And they would try to do the same here.\n\nA hundred warriors threw hemp ropes around a large boulder that jutted upward near the mouth of the cave. They pulled the apex of the cone-shaped rock until it fell, covering the opening. Des heard a few \"yi, yi, yi's\" as they removed the ropes.\n\n\"We must not fail,\" Des told Anastasia.\n\n\"Abba,\" she replied.\n\n\"We must have contingency plans for the others to use if I'm captured, a chain of command.\"\n\n\"Abba.\"\n\n\"What will happen to the timekeeper, if we don't remove the stone?\"\n\n\"Before death, he will brush the sand clean, record the time, and make sure the clock is running smoothly. It is his job.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 38\n\nT-minus (02:22:30:00)\n\n\"Have you got Five cleared up yet?\" John asked as he and Amy walked into the control room.\n\n\"We've lost platforms Eighteen and Nineteen,\" Land replied from his console.\n\nJohn felt his face flush and knew that anger would overwhelm him if he weren't careful.\n\nLand continued: \"They've simply disappeared. I've sent down plenty of probes, but they're gone, John; I don't know how. We cleaned up Five, and I've got electricity all the way down to Seventeen. I've got two men ready on Eight. But Eighteen and Nineteen are just no longer there.\"\n\nJohn said nothing as he tried to control his anger at Anderson for not having more foresight.\n\nThe red telephone in the corner rang. everyone looked at it, but nobody moved.\n\n\"I'm not picking that up,\" Land said as it rang again. He turned back to his monitor.\n\nJohn picked it up. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"John, is that you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"What's taking so long?\"\n\n\"We've had some problems that are delaying progress.\"\n\n\"I don't give a flying fig! Dammit, haven't I given you everything? Get down in that hole and find my son! Do you understand? I want him back, now!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, but\u2014\"\n\n\"No excuses!\"\n\nJohn cradled the receiver and turned to Amy and the five controllers.\n\n\"Lock down,\" he told Amy.\n\nAfter Amy shut and locked the door, John continued. \"I want everything turned off. Turn it all off.\"\n\n\"What about the two men on Eight? If we shut down, they'll be on their own,\" Land said.\n\nJohn said, \"So give them notice. I want it all off\u2014the gauges, the monitors, the computers, anything that's electric, anything that hums\u2014while we have a meeting.\"\n\nLand spoke briefly to the men on Eight, then shut down his computer as the other controllers did the same.\n\nJohn heard only the buzz from the overhead fluorescent lights. \"From now on, until this project is completed, everyone in this room will be paid at the rate of one thousand dollars per day.\"\n\nTwo of the controllers gasped.\n\n\"I know some of you are only technicians, just here to read and record the data or whatever; that doesn't matter\u2014you're all going to be paid the same. I'm not doing this out of generosity. You've all been here since the beginning and everyone knows where it's gotten us. Now, collectively, we're going to figure out what we are doing wrong, how we are going to correct it, and how we are going to reach our goal. I'm paying you a thousand dollars a day, and I expect you to be worth your pay. Now, let's brainstorm.\"\n\nThe materials woman raised her hand, then said, \"I think we need Anderson back. That man knows a lot. Before he left, things were going well.\"\n\n\"Did you hear that, Amy? Get Anderson back. Offer him money. If that doesn't work, offer him more. As soon as this meeting is over, I want you to get on it.\"\n\n\"Understood,\" Amy responded.\n\nJohn said, \"What ever happened to that guy Jack Squires?\"\n\n\"I don't know; I haven't seen him. His background check arrived yesterday, but I haven't read it yet,\" Amy said.\n\n\"Well, find him and bring him back, too. Timothy, if I got you Jack's computer, do you think you could break into his files and see what the hell's in there?\"\n\nLand answered, \"Absolutely. For a thousand dollars a day, I could break into Fort Knox.\"\n\n\"What else?\" John asked.\n\n\"We don't need platforms,\" the personnel clerk blurted, trembling a little.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Well, sir,\" she said nervously, \"I think we only need stations. Every hundred kilometers we could just have a staging area on one side of the vent for cable junctions and just use the platform elevator to get the men in, get the men out.\"\n\nJohn rubbed his chin while trying to ascertain if her suggestion would work with what was now in place.\n\nHe said, \"It'd be like mountain climbing, carrying everything you need on your back and making camps at night, or...you take hardly nothing at all and you quickly get your ass up to the top and get your ass down. Our pack is too heavy. Lady, you just earned an extra thousand dollars. Okay, who's next?\"\n\nThe blackout lasted ninety minutes, and when activities resumed, John had a portfolio of new ideas.\n\nJohn surveyed the rows of employees in folding chairs on the factory warehouse floor. The rumor mill had been working overtime, and he knew many of them thought they were about to lose their jobs.\n\n\"Can I have your attention, please,\" John began. \"We've had some major setbacks, as you know. The first four platforms have collapsed into Five. We've inspected and removed all debris from Five, but we've also lost platforms Seventeen, Eighteen and Nineteen.\"\n\nThere were some murmurs; the loss of Seventeen was new. John waited until they quieted before he continued.\n\n\"One man has died. His body has been recovered and his family notified. They will receive a generous stipend for his courageous work. This looks like a lost cause, ending our mission...\"\n\nAudible disappointment.\n\nJohn said emphatically, \"Well, _it's not lost, not ended!_ Mr. Anderson has returned to help us continue.\"\n\nThe workers responded with enthusiastic applause.\n\n\"We've caught a spy and turned him over to the Australian authorities. We don't know the complete story, but it appears he was selling information illicitly and attempting to sabotage our mission for some reason not yet determined. We've been going at this all wrong, but now we're going to do it all right. We're going to move to the interface within a week, and inside the core within two. Dr. Anderson assures us we have at least that long. Instead of building platforms, we're building stations out of materials that are already down there. We're going to get men down fast. Are you with me?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" reverberated from the crowd.\n\nThe center of Platform Sixteen began to vibrate and hum. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 39\n\nT-minus (02:21:00:00)\n\nBearters and Mitch arrived in separate cars.\n\nMitch arrived first and climbed onboard the Chinook helicopter, wearing his fur coat and carrying one soft-sided suitcase. The crew greeted him warmly. Mallory shook his hand and asked him to buckle in so they could take off as soon as possible.\n\nMitch grinned when he saw Hans.\n\n\"Why, you old whale-hunter-hunter!\" he said, giving Hans a bear hug that lifted him off the floor. \"So, you did come!\"\n\n\"Ja.\" When Mitch put him down, Hans pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. \"Stephen wanted to come, too.\"\n\nThe envelope read: \"To my dearest friend, Mitch.\"\n\nMitch carefully laid his fur coat on the floor in front of a window seat and buckled himself in. He stared at the envelope in his lap, afraid to open it because Stephen undoubtedly had a very compelling reason for not coming.\n\nAs Bearters climbed onboard, the crew greeted him as coolly as they had greeted Mitch warmly.\n\nHans merely said \"Hello\" without emotion.\n\nBearters sat in the same row as Mitch, leaving an empty seat between them. Mitch glanced at him once, then went back to turning the envelope over and over in his lap.\n\nTwo Inuit guards walked the length of the helicopter, checking each compartment, while Fishand followed behind them.\n\nMitch finally opened the envelope, removed the one-page letter and unfolded it.\n\nDear Mitch,\n\nI would like nothing better than to be sitting and talking to you instead of writing this note. Yes, they did ask me to go\u2014in fact, they almost begged. Colonel Wingert arrived at my office last week and, let me tell you, my patients were quite surprised! He certainly has the power of persuasion\u2014the whole team together on an expedition to rescue one of our own, etc. But I'm sorry, Mitch, I had to decline.\n\nMitch looked at Bearters, who sat stoically, his face pitted with displeasure, then he returned to the letter.\n\nI'm afraid my days of adventure are over. I fondly remember the time our team spent together; every day, something reminds me of the adventure of a lifetime. You, Des, Bearters, Hans, and even Jack, made it so. I thank all of you for that.\n\nMuch as I would like to join you all again, I am needed more at home. I am sorry to tell you that Kathy has been diagnosed with breast cancer. We are doing everything possible to fight this monster.\n\nMitch's eyes filled with tears. Oh my God, poor Kathy! Poor Stephen.\n\nFishand smirked as he approached Bearters and Mitch. He patted Mitch on the shoulder as he passed.\n\n\"Have a nice trip.\"\n\nWhistling gaily, he descended the ramp to the tarmac beyond; his guards followed.\n\nBearters pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and laid it on the empty seat between them. Mitch picked it up, wiped his eyes, then blew his nose into it. He handed Bearters the wadded-up cloth, then finished Stephen's letter.\n\n_Kathy and I both wish you all the best of luck on this adventure. GO GET DES!_\n\n_Forever your friend, Stephen._\n\nAs the 'copter gently lifted off the ground, Mitch handed the letter to Bearters, who began reading it with a scowl.\n\nMitch's fur coat moved slightly on the floor. Bearters glanced at it, then finished reading the letter.\n\nHe sighed deeply. \"Bad break.\"\n\nThe fur coat moved again as Bearters handed the letter back to Mitch. The sleeve had a lump, which was moving towards the cuff. A small pink nose poked out.\n\n\"Ah, Mitch?\" Bearters said quietly.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"There's something in your coat.\"\n\nMitch looked down, feeling the effects of his sleeping pill kicking in.\n\n\"Oh, I almost forgot. I wasn't sure of the proper dose to give them, so they're still awake.\"\n\n\"Who's awake?\" Bearters asked.\n\n\"Samson and Delilah. Don't worry, they're housebroken.\"\n\nThe two puppies emerged from the sleeves and wagged their tails.\n\n\"I think it's potty time,\" Bearters observed.\n\nAs soon as the chopper reached altitude, Mitch put on his fur coat, stashed the pups inside, and headed for the bathroom, where he closed and locked the door.\n\n\"Okay, pee, come on, pee,\" Mitch encouraged. \"Come on, you can do it, pee. That's a good boy. Good pee.\"\n\nWhen they had finished, Mitch opened the door and found Hans right outside.\n\nHans said, \"Prostate? It's nothing to be ashamed about, but talking to your wiener will not solve the problem. See a doctor!\"\n\nMitch went back to his seat and carefully laid his fur coat on the floor in front of him. He got two small semi-moist treats laced with a small amount of Dr. Stephen's pills and gave one to each puppy.\n\n\"There, that should quiet them down for awhile,\" Mitch told Bearters, then snapped his fingers. He reached inside his fur for an envelope and handed it to Bearters. \"Your ass is grass when Fishand finds out what you've done.\"\n\nBearters opened the envelope and removed a check that had his name on it; it was for one million dollars.\n\n\"I have a plan,\" he said with a smile.\n\n\"It'll take a week to ten days to clear, but I guarantee it's as solid as Sears.\" Mitch was becoming giddy from the medication. Everything started to look and sound stupid; he laughed.\n\nBearters chuckled along with him as he folded the check and put it in his wallet.\n\nMitch tried to contain himself, but giggled and laughed.\n\nBearters joined in until both men were close to tears. He held up his hand to get Mitch to stop, and Mitch slapped it.\n\n\"We did it, you ol' crotch weasel,\" Mitch said, and they burst out laughing again.\n\nMallory came down the aisle and stopped with a smile while Mitch and Bearters regained control.\n\n\"Four days,\" Bearters managed to say between giggles.\n\nMallory looked confused. \"No, Fishand told Mitch two days.\"\n\nBearters chuckled. \"He changed his mind.\"\n\nMitch squeezed out, \"Why?\"\n\nBearters paused to stifle a laugh, then told Mallory, \"I told him I needed more time, so that I could...push Mitch back down the path towards the drop zone with his nose on the ground and have him pick up with his teeth,\" he paused again, fighting laughter, \"every gum wrapper and beer can he dropped along the way! And-he-thought-that-was-a-good-idea!\"\n\nThey all laughed heartily.\n\nOnce they had settled down, Mallory said, \"That changes things. With four days, we could clean up the camp, so we'll fly there first, put the equipment onboard, then go to the Vent. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 40\n\nT-minus (02:12:32:06)\n\nDes knew he had to face Rawool again; time was running short, and he would need Rawool's help if they were to defeat the beasts. He asked Al\u00e9e to go with him to translate. Des was beginning to master the Anasazi language, but someone fluent would be valuable\u2014and he didn't want to bring Anastasia.\n\nRawool was sitting cross-legged at his campfire when Des, Al\u00e9e and Itar's guards approached. He stood to confront them, then he spat into the fire and sat. His men closed in behind him.\n\nDes said, \"We need to talk.\"\n\nAfter Al\u00e9e translated, Rawool spat into the fire again.\n\n\"Rawool, I need your help.\"\n\nAgain, Al\u00e9e translated.\n\nRawool laughed. He stood. \"My help? You need my help?\"\n\nAl\u00e9e began to translate, but stopped when Des touched her arm and shook his head. Rawool was becoming more agitated.\n\nDes said in Anasazi, \"We should defeat the beasts together, then work through our differences.\"\n\nRawool spoke at length. Des was pleased he was opening up; he understood most of what Rawool said, and it made sense. Rawool was a proud warrior, unafraid to fight, and would be a valuable asset.\n\n\"Abba,\" Des said.\n\nAl\u00e9e stared daggers at Des. She apparently didn't approve of him agreeing with what Rawool had said. \"Rawool say you trick him.\"\n\nDes had already figured that out. \"Na, na, na, na. E see-na ala-ala n\u00e9.\" No, I have the power to control fire.\n\nRawool replied in his own dialect, \"We hate the beasts as much as you. We want to kill them, just like you.\" He sliced his finger across his neck.\n\nDes began to speak, but Al\u00e9e whispered, \"He not done.\"\n\nRawool stuck his knife in the dirt. He spoke rapidly and assertively saying he would join forces with Des and even allow Des to lead. But issues concerning the queen's position of power and Anastasia must be resolved. Rawool was challenging the queen's right to rule and he demanded that she abdicate the throne. When the council arrived, they could decide. He rambled beyond Des' ability to understand.\n\nDes turned to Al\u00e9e, who was glaring viciously at Rawool.\n\n\"Abba,\" Des said. Rawool had agreed to what was most important\u2014they would fight the beasts together.\n\nHe withdrew Rawool's knife from the dirt and used the blade's tip to outline his battle plan.\n\nRawool watched with his men as Des drew and Al\u00e9e explained.\n\n\"You and your men here,\" Des said. \"Flank attack.\"\n\nWhen Al\u00e9e translated, Rawool nodded.\n\n\"He says it is a good plan,\" Al\u00e9e told Des.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi,\" Des agreed.\n\nWhen they were walking back to the village, Des said, \"That went pretty well, all things considered.\"\n\nAl\u00e9e didn't reply. Des had just placed his fate and Anastasia's completely in the hands of others, and he was unaware he might have bargained away his wife in the process. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 41\n\nT-minus (02:02:21:15)\n\nMitch saw the base camp from the air and awakened Bearters, who also looked out to see white ground with shades of gray around the tents. Mitch put on his fur coat and made another woozy trek to the bathroom.\n\nOnce the helicopter landed, Mallory walked down the aisle.\n\n\"Okay, everybody out. Get the stake pullers. Mitch, you can empty and bundle up the commode tent. Bearters, you help with the main tent and get a clipboard from the pilots with some paper and a pen to itemize everything we take. You can check it off from the original camp manifest, so we can prove we cleaned up properly. Stow it all in the first and second cargo bays, so we can get the dogs out. We'll repack later to cover up any evidence the dogs had moved.\"\n\nMitch looked at the dogs in the third cargo bay on his way out. They were lined up neatly in the center of the bay, but one had changed. It was now filled to the gills with ammunition boxes, automatic rifles and machine guns.\n\nAfter they'd all cleaned up the camp, and eaten and rested well, the chopper headed for the vent a few kilometers away.\n\n\"Will you look at that,\" Mitch said as the Chinook circled.\n\nSteam roared from the vent and spouted four hundred meters high.\n\nHans said from behind him, \"She looks like the blowhole of an enormous whale.\"\n\n\"I think we've found Old Faithful's mom,\" Mitch said.\n\nThe chopper circled closer, and Mitch could see the glistening sides of the cone-shaped vent, with water dripping into the abyss.\n\n\"No way can we go in there. No way.\"\n\nThe helicopter set down in the snow.\n\nMallory came down the aisle dressed in Army fatigues, a red beret, heavy boots and a camouflage woolen coat with \"Mallory\" and achievement bars over a pocket.\n\n\"I guess we've all seen the problem. We're going to let the dogs out here, do a little reconnoiter, then I'll see if I can get down that hole. We'll hook my dog to the Chinook, fly overhead, and see what happens.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" Mitch put on his coat, \"can I wear an outfit like yours?\"\n\nMallory grinned.\n\nWhen Mitch returned from the bathroom, all the seats were empty. He unzipped his bag and removed his fur hat and mittens. Patting his pockets to make sure the pups were quiet, he walked outside.\n\nBearters and Hans were standing near the vent in their orange Tevlar coats; men in military camouflage were unloading the dogs. Their coats and facemasks were coated with ice. Mitch heard an eerie blowing sound coming from the opening.\n\n\"What do you think?\" he hollered over the noise.\n\nBearters yelled back, \"We think Mallory would be nuts to try to go down.\"\n\nCrow hurried over to them. \"We're taking the chopper up!\"\n\nThey all hustled back to the Chinook.\n\nMallory closed his dog's hatch and latched it. The plastic dome overhead immediately began to fog. He toggled switches; green lights flashed on the dash and then glowed. He turned the ignition and the turbine began to whine; he toggled on the heaters. Someone outside rapped on the cowling. Mallory turned on the defrosters and the plastic shield began to clear.\n\nCrow was cupping his hands around his mouth. \"You're all hooked up!\"\n\nMallory nodded. He removed his gloves and beret, pulled on his helmet, then spoke into the microphone's mouthpiece.\n\n\"This is Lead Dog to Mama Bird. Lead Dog to Mama Bird, do you read me?\"\n\n\"I read you loud and clear, Lead Dog. I've got my rotors turning. You're on the hook.\"\n\nMallory flipped switches and moved the joystick. The dog moved from side to side and up a little. The board displayed all green lights.\n\nMallory said, \"I have a go. Repeat: go. Just put me over that hole and let's see what happens.\"\n\n\"Roger that. You have one hundred and fifty meters of cable. That's one-five-zero. Let me know if you want me to shorten the leash.\"\n\n\"Ten-four,\" Mallory replied.\n\n\"Lift off.\"\n\nMallory buckled his harness and tightened the straps.\n\n\"Take me over the turbulence first. Then lower me on my mark. Over.\"\n\n\"Understood. Over.\"\n\nThe dog lifted gently into the night sky.\n\n\"I've got a little swing. Shorten the leash,\" Mallory said.\n\n\"I copy that. We'll winch you in to one hundred. That's one-zero-zero.\" The small capsule swung wildly. Mallory fought the stick with one hand, then with both. The onboard computers chattered. Two of the green panel lights changed to yellow.\n\n\"Approaching target,\" Mallory said, straining to keep his craft directly underneath the Chinook. He turned on the turbo. Another yellow light flashed on his instrument panel. The dog was in danger of spinning.\n\n\"Lieutenant, we have turbulence,\" the pilot said.\n\n\"Yes, I know. More down here.\" Mallory continued to fight for control.\n\n\"Abort, sir?\"\n\nMallory looked at the rush of air from the vent. There had to be an eye where there was less turbulence. He calmed the sway with his thrusters and aimed the nose down.\n\n\"No. Lower me.\"\n\n\"Sir, I can't take this bird any lower. I've got two yellow lights. If you want to go, we'll have to use more leash. Over.\"\n\nBuffeted, Mallory turned to the radar screen and scoped the sides of the vent below. He entered numbers on the computer to keep the dog at least ten meters away from the vent walls. The monitor flashed:\n\nABORT\n\n\"Let the leash out to one hundred fifty. That's one-five-zero,\" Mallory said.\n\n\"Are you sure, sir? Over.\"\n\n\"Dammit, go!\"\n\nHis arm was tiring from fighting the joystick. The dog lowered as alarms clanged, the instrument panel blinked on, then off, and red lights appeared. He fought to keep the nose down.\n\n\"Your angle needs adjustment,\" the pilot said.\n\nMallory concentrated on the monitor where a blinking white dot swayed through the bulls-eye several times, then stopped in the center. The light glowed green.\n\n\"Fifty more. Give me five-zero more!\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"Now! Over!\"\n\nThe edge of the vent wall surrounded him and a siren began to wail.\n\n\"You're cracking up. Over,\" the pilot said.\n\nMallory said, \"Cut me loose. Disengage the hook.\"\n\nThe claw above him opened, uncoupling the dog from the Chinook. Mallory hit the afterburner, and the dog screamed down one hundred meters. Mallory eased off and turned sideways, one wing lowered.\n\n\"All clear, do you copy? Over,\" Mallory said.\n\n\"Roger,\" the pilot said. \"I copy, all clear.\"\n\nThe helicopter banked right and swooped out of sight.\n\nMallory nosed downward again and hit the afterburners. The siren went silent. The dog rolled twice, then regained attitude as Mallory monitored his radar. He was in the bulls-eye, traveling downward at two hundred fifty kilometers per hour. His instrument panel was again green lights only. Nothing was ahead for hundreds of kilometers. He turned on outside lights as the rush of oncoming wind diminished and his speed increased.\n\nMallory was forty-nine kilometers from the surface when he pulled back on the throttle, and the dog hung at fifty. He rotated the nose skyward, pushed forward on the throttle and began accelerating upwards with the afterburners on. Traveling with the wind was much smoother. He pulled back on the throttle until the engine idled, centered his craft and prepared to break out at the surface.\n\nThe dog popped out of the vent like a cork from a champagne bottle. The parachute unfurled at the apex of its flight, and Mallory's capsule floated gently to the snow.\n\n\"It's a bit of a rough ride to start, but it smoothes out quickly,\" Mallory told his team, who were gathered in the passenger cabin of the Chinook. \"This mission is for volunteers only. We have eight dogs. I'm in one, and another is filled with supplies. Mitch?\"\n\n\"I'm in,\" Mitch said, determined to get Des.\n\n\"Okay. That leaves five.\"\n\nCrow jumped to attention. \"Sir!\"\n\n\"Yes, Sergeant Crow, of course. Pick four more volunteers to accompany us.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\nEveryone volunteered.\n\nCrow picked four with the most combat experience, leaving behind Hans, Bearters, two enlisted men and the pilots\u2014enough men to fly the Chinook home if no one returned from the vent.\n\nMallory announced, \"Everything's all set. After I get settled inside the vent, I'll call for Mitch to follow. Mitch, I have complete control of your dog, but the rest of you can work the ancillary equipment: the heaters, the defrosters, the lights, and the like. The next dog after Mitch will be the one with the armaments. I'll stack the dogs as close to the surface as possible, but far enough down where the wind will not be a problem. Sergeant Crow brings up the rear. If we abort, don't open your chute until you're in the sky. Once all the dogs are in the vent, I'll let you know when I'm ready to move down. Remember to bring snack kits, water, and a jug. I'll try to fly as fast as possible, but this is going to take some time, so sleep, if you want. We have to be ready for whatever we encounter. Any questions?\"\n\nMitch asked, \"Sir, what's a jug for?\"\n\nIn his dog, Mitch heard the chopper's blades cut through the air as two men strapped his harness over him. There was just enough room behind his head for his duffel bag, and comfortable legroom in front. The men helped him into his helmet; Mitch gave them a thumb's-up. They snapped shut the hatch and locked it with outside levers. Mitch heard them attach the hook, then the dog's engine fired up.\n\n\"Mitch, can you hear me?\" Mallory's voice came over the headset.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"I'm in the vent now. It's not as bad as yesterday. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Let me know if you have any problems.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe dog elevated off the ground. Mitch pulled duct tape out of a side pocket of his bag, removed the puppies from his coat pockets and carefully taped one to the top of each of his thighs, giving them each a medicated treat, then swallowed a pill himself. He looked at the empty jug on the floor between his legs and hoped it was large enough for all three of them. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 42\n\nT-minus (00:12:32:23)\n\nAs Anastasia slid between their sheets, Des wrapped himself around her, kissed her long and hard, then whispered, \"Good night, my dear.\"\n\nHe would be asleep in moments he was so tired. Rain began to pound on the roof and drip into the central tub, a soothing sound to Des.\n\n\"No matter what happens, I'll always love you,\" he murmured to her.\n\n\"Don't talk like that. It makes me nervous. Don't think that something bad could happen to you.\"\n\n\"Or to you, my love.\" He kissed her shoulder.\n\nHer breathing became deep and regular.\n\nAnastasia prepared an elaborate breakfast with poached eggs, cornbread and butter, fruits and potatoes fried with onions. They ate heartily, bathed together, dressed and walked hand-in-hand to the beach through air heavy with fog. It was a cool, beautiful morning. Birds sang in the trees; the flowers and foliage were laden with dew.\n\nThey arrived before the time for morning calisthenics, but most of the warriors were already milling around. Des and Anastasia walked down the beach, enjoying the moist sand underfoot; Al\u00e9e and Ray-na followed. Des felt relaxed. Anastasia kicked sand at him. He grabbed her by the waist, kissed her lightly on the lips, then released her.\n\nHe turned towards the sea and breathed in deeply, but as he exhaled, he stopped short and felt the blood drain from his face.\n\n\"They're here,\" he said, just loudly enough for Al\u00e9e to hear.\n\nAl\u00e9e whistled like a bird to the others.\n\nThe fog lifted slightly. Des saw a canoe come to shore at Oom's, and Ray-na was sprinting toward him. His people were carrying kegs from E-shandra and laying fuses in the sand.\n\nDes formed up warriors with blowguns in groups of three along the path that led to Sight Rock. Each group placed twenty poison darts on a reed mat in front of them, loaded their weapons, then knelt on one knee. Des patted backs and Al\u00e9e whispered encouragement.\n\nTwenty meters above them was a freshly constructed path parallel to the old one. Anastasia and Ray-na readied kneeling warriors on the new trail, then Anastasia stood near a flowering tree above Des.\n\nThe six young girls sat below Des.\n\nDes slipped the only CD he had into the player, turned on the power and set the volume to maximum. The soundsticks were hanging in trees halfway to the shore. When he touched the play button, music would reverberate across the mountain.\n\nNear the south soundstick, Rawool was moving his men into position, camouflaged with leaves.\n\nAdeyo waved from his clearing, far above Des.\n\nDes drew his sword from its sheath, squatted, thrust the blade into the moist earth by his side and waited.\n\nThe village lay below them. To the north, beyond it, was the river. Des didn't think the beasts could ford it, so he had positioned Rawool and his men to the south, with Oom's hut below them. Rawool needed to protect only one flank, which provided Des with more troops for a frontal assault.\n\nThe only person still standing was Anastasia.\n\nDes heard oars splashing. He glimpsed the beasts' sentinel rowboat through the fog. One beast rowed from the stern while two others scanned the village, the mountain and Oom's from the bow. They were dressed in black leather, with rope encircling their foreheads and tying back their hair. They passed Oom's hut and rowed out to sea.\n\nTwenty minutes later, Des heard the thundering horde before he saw them. Fiery lights leaked through the foggy, dark canopy of trees beyond the village and he now saw hundreds of beasts with torches in their mouths as they raced into the village, stopping only when they found something to burn.\n\nWhen they reached E-shandra, dozens of beasts swarmed inside, then reemerged without their torches. The small coliseum poured black smoke into the sky before it burst into flames.\n\nDes heard another rumble to the south.\n\nMost of the beasts ran past Oom's burning hut, but a few stopped to use their hatchets, reducing the stone furnace to rubble. The others raced on to join the north horde directly below Des, some still carrying torches in their mouths.\n\nThey had taken the beach; now they were eyeing the mountain.\n\nDes guessed there were a thousand or more beasts on the sand. They were issuing a cacophony of shrieks and screams, which were rising and falling eerily.\n\n\"They're just trying to scare us,\" Des said in Anasazi to his troops.\n\nE-shandra's flames crackled, as did the hundreds of fires in the village. The canoes were burning; the walls of Oom's hut toppled. Des' anger was replaced by resentment as the village burned, and his hatred for the beasts rose.\n\n\"Kill them,\" he urged his troops. \"Kill them all!\"\n\nA ship emerged from the fog, seventy-meters long, its paddlewheel churning until the boat was beached. The beasts' shriek-screams grew louder as the bow hatch opened.\n\nTwo columns of beasts emerged, parting the masses already on the sand. The columns turned to face each other as the horde closed ranks around them.\n\nA lone, tall beast emerged. He was wearing a gold-studded white leather vest, leather leggings and a white headband. Not far behind him was a short, plump beast dressed all in silver; a silver cone jutted up from his headband.\n\nThe assembled beasts stopped their shriek-screams.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Des asked Al\u00e9e.\n\n\"Shrive...and Natas,\" she replied.\n\n\"Who is Natas?\"\n\nAnastasia said, \"He is the leader of the beasts.\"\n\n\"Then he's a primary target,\" Des said.\n\nBeasts from inside surrounded Natas, who stayed on the ship's ramp. Shrive walked onto the sand, removed an animal horn from his belt and blew into it.\n\nThe beast horde loped into rectangular formations along the water's edge. Some, holding torches, stood and watched. Des guessed these torchbearers were captains. Des counted the edges of one rectangle: nineteen beasts by thirteen. There were ten blocks in all\u2014two thousand five hundred beasts.\n\nThe beasts were quiet as Shrive walked back onto his ship.\n\nHe returned with a pole and what looked like a burlap bag. He planted the pole firmly into the sand in front of the beast formations. He removed a ball from the bag and thrust it with force onto the pole, then backed away, smiling.\n\nPuma's curls dropped; her unseeing eyes had withered in their sockets.\n\n\"The bastards!\" Des gasped, infuriated.\n\nThe warrior beside him vomited.\n\nHe grabbed her hand. \"Kill them,\" he said, and she nodded.\n\nShrive emitted a shriek that seemed to last for minutes.\n\nDes pulled his sword from the earth and ran down his line of warriors to a rock where Shrive could see him plainly.\n\n\"Hey!\" Des called as loud as he could. \"Hey, asshole!\"\n\nShrive moved his head around jerkily, like a bird, keeping his eyes focused centrally while searching for the source of the sound.\n\n\"Hey, asshole! Up here!\"\n\nShrive locked his eyes with Des, then growled loudly enough for Des to hear. He blew his horn four times.\n\nFour of the beast formations broke into lines. Des hurried back to his CD player.\n\nA thousand beasts were about ready to charge. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 43\n\n(00:00:00:00)\n\n\"E com \u00e1 ralla ralla. Boose, boost!\" Des commanded.\n\nThe six young girls jumped to their feet, picked up lit torches from a fire-pit, fanned out, then ran down the cleared shooting galleries toward the beach.\n\nDes counted six long seconds. Halfway was a firebreak where they lit the gunpowder-laced dried vegetation stuffed under split logs. The fires spread quickly towards the beasts as the girls returned to Des.\n\nThe beasts had only two ways to charge Des' warriors: through the fire or climbing through dense forest.\n\n\"Archers ready!\" Des shouted.\n\nOne hundred warriors stood on the path above and loaded their bows.\n\nThe girls ran beneath drawn arrows, lighting them.\n\n\"Aim...Fire!\"\n\nAlthough most arrows fell short of their marks, a few were right on target; beasts screamed in agony as their wounds burned.\n\n\"Archers ready!\" Des called. \"Aim...Fire! Al\u00e9e!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\n\"Take command of the archers.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nDes raised his sword high over his head, where rays of sunlight caught the blade and made it glitter.\n\nRay-na's team lit fuses.\n\nDes thumbed the play button on his CD player, and the Colorado Symphonic Orchestra began John Phillip Sousa's _The Washington Post_ march fortissimo.\n\nThe beast torchbearers didn't wait for another volley of flaming arrows. They signaled with their torches and beasts surged forward as cymbals crashed.\n\nThen the beach erupted with booming fireballs that blew through the middle of their charging ranks as the fuses reached the concealed gunpowder.\n\nFour hundred beasts had already passed before the explosions. Apparently oblivious to the sounds behind them, they ran up the mountain, staying at the edges of the shooting galleries to avoid the fire and using the cleared land for momentum.\n\nDes saw three beasts climb the tree from which the north soundstick hung. One beast broke the speaker in half and dropped it to the ground, where others chopped it with hatchets.\n\nAnother three beasts climbed the soundstick tree to the south while others watched. A small bush rose up to attack one of the onlookers, hitting it on the back of the head with an iron hatchet. Another leafy growth rose from the ground to slit a beast throat with his knife. Suddenly aware of their danger, beasts started frantically pounding the foliage around them with their hatchets. A warrior's arm extended spasmodically from the dense leaves as the beasts hacked at the bloody ground. Finally, one beast in the tree found the soundstick and bit into it.\n\nRawool stood and smashed together the skulls of two beasts. As they fell, Rawool held aloft his fist holding a hatchet.\n\nDes saw Rawool exult as his men made mincemeat of the enemy surrounding them. The three beasts in the tree didn't even attempt to climb down.\n\n\"Guns ready!\" Des said to his line of warriors as the charging beasts came into range.\n\n\"Yes, sir!\" they replied in unison.\n\n\"Number one, ready.\"\n\nIn each group of three, one warrior stood and put her blowgun to her mouth. Two warriors at the far end knelt; Des knew they didn't have a clear target and were following his instructions not to waste ammunition. The beast horde was closing in on them, so Des could wait no longer; there were plenty of clear targets for the rest.\n\n\"Fire!\"\n\nA volley of poison-tipped darts found their marks.\n\n\"Two, ready. Fire!\"\n\nAs the first warrior in each group reloaded, the second fired.\n\n\"Three, fire!\"\n\nIt took seven seconds to reload; every three seconds, a fresh volley of darts were unleashed on the beasts.\n\n\"One, ready, fire!\"\n\nBeasts stopped, screaming; others ran helter-skelter, disrupting the rest. The horde's progress had been impeded.\n\n\"Hold fire.\"\n\nThe standing warriors knelt.\n\nThe beasts regrouped for a fresh assault, out of range of the darts.\n\n\"Light the upper galleries!\" Des ordered.\n\nThe teenagers lit the kindling in front of the blowgun warriors. As the fires spread, the beasts disappeared into dense forest.\n\nDes moved his archers to the first line of defense, and the dart-gun warriors to the second\u2014next to their war clubs.\n\nWhen the beasts reappeared through the fire in a dense grouping, Des shouted to his blowgun warriors.\n\n\"Two, ready. Fire!\"\n\nThe darts hit the leading beasts. Des checked the ammo supply on his warriors' mats. Only one dart remained in front of each team, and the beasts were only forty meters away, preparing for a final assault.\n\n\"E-yah-ho!\" Des screamed.\n\nThe archers laid flat on their bellies. The dart-gun warriors set aside their weapons, and picked up forked branches with gunpowder-filled banana leaves. As each was lit, it was hurled at the advancing beasts.\n\nThe beasts turned, but retreated slowly. The teenagers dropped their torches in the fire-pit and ran up the slope.\n\nDes raised his sword. \"Fire down!\" As his arm fell, the shooting galleries' fires abated.\n\nWarriors with war clubs sounded battle cries as they chased after the remaining beasts. The beasts turned once to confront them, then ran with the warriors close after them.\n\nDes saw injured beasts on the beach being murdered by their own kind and stacked in piles. Two more formations on the sand broke apart, as five hundred beasts readied to storm the mountain. Torches flashed a signal and the beasts began running, as another thousand waited in four formations by the sea.\n\nDes signaled Adeyo, who disappeared. A drumbeat started to roll.\n\nThe pursuing warriors retreated, parting to each side below Des as the fresh beast troops thundered up the mountain.\n\n\"Roll!\" Des shouted to his archers.\n\nThey rolled into piles of three and held their arms over their heads.\n\nThe sound of racing horse-hooves was deafening. Each of the warriors on horseback carried a war club or a sword. The newest contingent of beasts was halfway to where Des stood when the horses ran full-bore into them. Meanwhile, the warriors just below Des fought back towards the beach as Rawool and his men closed in from the south; the archers sent volleys of arrows into the swarm.\n\nThe beasts were retreating!\n\nBut Des' elation was short-lived. He looked past the melee on the mountain below him and saw two more beast formations readied to charge, leaving another five hundred still in reserve. The horses were stopped as they engaged in battle.\n\nDes signaled Adeyo, who changed his drumbeat. His troops were now the ones retreating, guarded by the archers above and the horsewomen below.\n\nWhen the last warrior had reached the path, and the horses were above Des, the beasts were in hot pursuit only fifty meters away.\n\n\"Fire, up!\" Des yelled.\n\nBeasts screamed as the flames rekindled.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, have the archers shoot across the fire\u2014the beasts are on the other side.\"\n\nDes ran towards Sight Rock, seeing that some archers were shooting in that direction. When he reached the vantage point, he realized what had happened.\n\nBeasts had forded the river; hundreds were massing on the path eighty meters from his closest warrior. He had been outflanked and outnumbered. The flames would soon weaken, and they would be overrun.\n\n\"Allay, allay ipsay, Adeyo! Go!\" he shouted.\n\nThe warriors retreated.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, regroup at Adeyo's. I'll stall them.\"\n\nDes flashed his sword at the beasts. They flashed back with teeth.\n\nHe ran back down the path to where Anastasia was standing by a tree.\n\n\"The beasts are coming from the river,\" he said. \"They want me. Go with the others. They will follow me.\"\n\n\"They want me, too,\" she said, grabbing his hand. \"Quickly, the museum!\"\n\nBeasts lumbered towards them as they climbed.\n\nThe door to the museum was open. As they ran across the grassy clearing, Des heard scratching and scraping. A beast appeared at the doorway, pulling the door closed.\n\n\"No you don't!\" Des whacked off the beast's arm with his sword.\n\nAs the beast screamed, Des and Anastasia slipped inside, pushing the door shut and crushing the skull of a beast who had begun to enter. Des drove the interior bolts home as the door shook violently.\n\nHe whipped around to survey the museum's interior, aware that beasts might already be inside.\n\nTorches in wall sconces flicked and sputtered in the surreal silence. Sword at the ready, Des searched the display aisles. He motioned for Anastasia to stand still in case he needed to wield his sword.\n\nThere were no beasts in the museum.\n\n\"Des,\" Anastasia whispered, then pointed upward.\n\nStrands of straw flittered from the slits in the roof.\n\nDes drew the ring of keys from his belt, unlocked the door to the powder room and went inside. There were enough kegs left to power an explosion that would send mudslides to the beach, smashing any beasts remaining there.\n\nAnastasia screamed a warning.\n\nDes saw a burning torch spreading fire on the floor. He extinguished it in an urn, then pushed over the urn, which shattered, pouring water across the remaining flames.\n\nIt sounded like thousands of insects were chewing on the roof. The slots were too narrow for beasts to penetrate, but Des knew what they were planning. He removed a torch from the wall and waved it overhead as he walked around looking through the roof-slots. The roof was covered with beasts using claws, hatchets and even teeth to widen the slots. One beast poked his head through the ceiling near the rear wall, then pulled back. Another beast dropped into the museum with a third right behind him.\n\nDes waved his torch at them and readied his sword, unaware that a beast dangled over Anastasia, his hand extended.\n\nThe beast grabbed Anastasia's shoulder, sinking his razor-sharp nails into her flesh and pulling her towards the roof.\n\nWhen she screamed, Des wheeled around, flashing his sword through the beast's wrist.\n\nThe beast's severed hand, still impaling Anastasia, fell to the floor. Des laid his torch on the spilled water and dropped his sword. He pulled the claws out of Anastasia's shoulder as blood streamed down her arm.\n\nHer eyes were wide. Des followed her gaze.\n\nAt the far end of the museum, a dozen beasts stood with whips and drawn hatchets. Their sharp teeth gleamed.\n\nThey charged.\n\nDes yanked Anastasia to her feet as he grabbed up his sword.\n\n\"The powder room,\" he said.\n\nThey dashed down the hallway, but the beasts were gaining ground quickly. Des barely managed to swing the door shut and run his sword through the iron rings into the casing before the door shook fiercely.\n\nThe sword held, and the door remained closed. Des ripped off the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around Anastasia's blood-soaked shoulder. Half naked and weaponless, he looked through the opaque glass window to see the shadows of faces looking back at him. If the beasts had understood what glass was, they would have shattered it into a million shards with their hatchets. But they obviously didn't know, so they began scraping and clawing around its edges. The rotten mortar was coming out easily, so it wouldn't take them long.\n\n\"Anastasia, do you have fire with you?\"\n\nShe pulled flint and strike rod from her pocket and handed them to Des. He went to the remaining kegs of black powder, and used one to hit against the edge of another. It split open. Des carried the split keg back to Anastasia, leaving a powder trail behind him. When he reached the door, he threw the keg back onto the others, where the staves cracked into dust.\n\nHe kissed Anastasia lightly.\n\n\"They won't take us alive,\" he said.\n\nThe bottom of the window opened a crack; the scraping sounds grew louder.\n\n\"I love you,\" Anastasia said, apparently accepting their fate.\n\nThe window flapped open and a beast stuck his face into the room, smiling wickedly and showing all his teeth.\n\nDes lit the fuse. \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 44\n\nThe beast disappeared.\n\nDes heard the outer museum door screech open over the crackle of the burning fuse, then a flurry of running feet. The opaque window flapped back and forth, then crashed to the floor and shattered.\n\nDes quickly broke the powder chain with his foot and the fuse fizzled out.\n\nAnastasia said excitedly, \"Listen! The horn. The masters are calling the beasts back!\"\n\nDes heard the horn blowing in the distance. He pulled his sword from the door and guided Anastasia outside by her good arm.\n\nA beast ran past them and down the mountain before Des could raise his sword, but the beast hadn't even noticed them.\n\nSoon the horn stopped sounding, then Des heard another noise, one he knew well, a loud budda-budda-budda.\n\n\"What is that?\" Anastasia asked.\n\nOf course she didn't know, but Des' company had made the machinery behind the sound.\n\n\"That, my dear, is the sound of giant war clubs. No, it's actually the sound of deliverance from evil! Come on, let's go see!\"\n\nIt sounded to Des as if the whole United States Army was rattling off rounds below them. He and Anastasia passed many dead beasts and some dead warriors.\n\nAs they neared the beach, the shooting stopped.\n\nDes saw the back of a man in fatigues, standing alone with bullet chains crisscrossing his torso. Shrive lay dead near his feet. Des dropped both his sword and Anastasia's arm and started running towards him as tears streamed across his face.\n\nIt had to be Mitch.\n\n\"\u2014and fucking don't come back!\" the unmistakable voice boomed. Mitch held his fist high in the air.\n\nThe ramp to the beasts' boat rattled closed, and the paddles began churning.\n\nMitch turned as Des approached.\n\n\"Oh, hi, Des,\" he said as casually as if they were passing on a Sunday afternoon walk. \"We could tell who the good guys were right away...Hey, slow down!\"\n\nDes plowed into Mitch and they tumbled to the sand.\n\n\"You...\" was all Des could manage to say.\n\n\"Calm down,\" Mitch said, running his fingers through Des' hair.\n\n\"What the hell took you so long?\"\n\nMitch looked surprised. \"Didn't you hear?\"\n\n\"Hear what?\"\n\nMitch shook his head. \"They closed the fucking ferry.\"\n\nDes burst out laughing, and Mitch laughed, too.\n\nAnastasia collapsed onto the sand.\n\nAs Des ran to her, Mitch boomed, \"Medic!\"\n\nDes cradled her head. An Army medic skidded to his knees while opening his bag and checked her pulse.\n\n\"She just passed out,\" he told Des as he cracked open smelling salts and waved it under her nose.\n\nShe came to, startled.\n\n\"It's okay, my love,\" Des told her.\n\n\"Any news you want to share?\" Mitch asked.\n\n\"This is my wife, Anastasia. Anastasia, this is my best friend, Mitch.\"\n\nMitch grasped her hand. \"Pleased to meet you, ma'am.\"\n\nThe medic unwrapped the cloth from her shoulder.\n\n\"Some pretty nasty wounds you got here.\" He opened a small package and pulled out iodine-soaked sponges. \"This may sting.\"\n\nAs he started prepping the wounds, Al\u00e9e trotted over, concerned.\n\n\"She's fine, Al\u00e9e, just a little weak,\" Des said.\n\n\"Where the fuck did you find such beauties?\" Mitch said, eyeing Al\u00e9e with a smile.\n\n\"Be careful, Mitch\u2014Anastasia understands everything, and Al\u00e9e can figure out most of what you say.\"\n\nMitch kept his eyes on Al\u00e9e, who smiled.\n\nDes said, \"Mitch, this is Alicia, who everyone calls Al\u00e9e. Al\u00e9e, this is Mitch.\"\n\nMitch held her hand with both of his and didn't let go, but Al\u00e9e didn't seem to mind.\n\n\"Al\u00e9e, will you stroll down the beach with me?\" Mitch asked.\n\nAl\u00e9e giggled and said, \"Abba.\"\n\n\"I'll take that to mean yes,\" Mitch said.\n\nThey walked off hand-in-hand, looking at each other intently. Des saw two small puppies, their tails wagging, followed closely behind them.\n\nA lieutenant strode over as the medic finished bandaging Anastasia's shoulder; he was holding an automatic rifle.\n\n\"Looks like those bloody bastards were trying to burn these people out.\"\n\n\"Actually, more than that,\" Des replied.\n\n\"What the hell do you call those things?\" the lieutenant asked.\n\n\"We call them the enemy.\" Des held out his hand. \"I'm Desmond Cox.\" \"Lieutenant Jake Mallory. Your picture doesn't do you justice.\"\n\nDes smiled. He was wearing a torn tunic, he was filthy, and his hair and beard were frazzled.\n\n\"Well, I've been...busy. Thanks for your help.\"\n\n\"Kicked their ass out of here, didn't we?\" Mallory smiled.\n\nDes nodded. \"If you hadn't come along, we would have done the same, but I'm not going to turn down a helping hand.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on. They had you outnumbered twenty to one! When we landed a few hours ago, it sounded like the whole place was blowing up!\"\n\nDes rubbed his beard. \"Just fireworks, Lieutenant Mallory. We like to entertain the enemy before we kill 'em.\"\n\nDes helped Anastasia to her feet and noticed Mallory's eyes focus on her ring finger.\n\n\"This is my wife, Anastasia,\" Des said.\n\n\"Nice to meet you.\" Mallory bowed his head a little.\n\nAnastasia did likewise. \"Thank you for all that you have done to save our people. Des, we must go,\" she said abruptly.\n\nDes hadn't heard her speak so coldly before. He said, \"Lieutenant Mallory, forgive us, but we must attend to our dead warriors. We can meet and talk later.\"\n\n\"What can my men do to help?\" Mallory asked.\n\n\"You have done enough. You may leave,\" Anastasia said, and she turned to walk away.\n\nDes realized she feared that this man was here to take him away. \"Lieutenant, please understand, this is a very emotional time.\"\n\nMallory nodded.\n\nDes studied Mallory's tired face. The threat was gone; the adrenaline was no longer pumping. Mallory was vigorously rubbing his right arm with his left hand; his weapon dangled from his neck.\n\n\"Lieutenant, please come with us. I'll show you where you and your men can rest,\" Des said.\n\nMallory called out to Sergeant Crow, and the two men followed Anastasia and Des past the fire line to their home.\n\nAnastasia remained stoic and silent.\n\nCrow studied the doorway as they stepped inside. \"No door.\"\n\nDes said, \"Yup, no doors, no windows, anywhere. There isn't any need for them because nobody would dare try to steal anything here.\"\n\n\"Oh, really?\" Crow seemed interested.\n\n\"Absolutely,\" Des said. \"If you're caught stealing...well, they call it the curse of a thousand deaths. The pain is excruciating and can last for days before the torture ends. It's quite difficult even to watch.\"\n\nWhen Anastasia looked at Des with surprise, he winked at her. She rolled her eyes and revealed a hint of a smile.\n\nDes showed the soldiers their home. \"That's the central tub. There's shampoo and soap in the urns if you'd like to bathe. This is the guest room. Go ahead and sleep here if you're tired. You'll find food and fruit juices in the kitchen. Help yourself to anything you want.\"\n\nDes excused himself and dressed in shorts and shirt. Anastasia was already outside.\n\nAs he left, Des said to Mallory, \"If your men still want to help, please have them pile up the beasts on the beach. We'll burn them later.\"\n\n\"Won't the other beasts return for their dead?\" Mallory asked.\n\n\"I hope not, but we'll keep watch. You're both invited to stay for dinner\u2014say, around seven tonight?\"\n\nMallory instinctively looked at his wristwatch, then at Des' bare wrist.\n\n\"We would be delighted. Seven is perfect.\" He added, \"We are on a tight schedule.\"\n\nMitch and Al\u00e9e were carrying a stretcher holding a dead warrior. Anastasia and Des fell into line. There was silence as they climbed; the birds did not sing. The flowers on the bushes and trees were colorless, and the usual vibrant green foliage was pale.\n\nDes knew he would soon have to choose between staying with Anastasia and going with Mitch\u2014was this simply an adventure, or was this now his home, his destiny? As quickly as that, Des decided.\n\nThere were too many bodies and not enough litters. Warriors descended past them with empty ones to be refilled.\n\nDes reached the clearing and saw mounds of sticks with dead warriors placed side-by-side, ten to a bier. Even the white linens had to be shared, so the bodies were not completely covered. The living waited grim-faced and silent. Des, too, stood quietly, his arm around Anastasia's waist. He thought about the warriors' lives; what now lay on the biers had been merely vehicles for life; the essence had flown.\n\nMitch held Al\u00e9e's hand as the sixth bier filled, and three bodies were laid on a seventh. Sixty-three lives had been lost.\n\nBearers stood near the biers as the torches were lit. The other warriors massed to one side, and began chanting.\n\n\"A-i ye, yi!\" Des shouted.\n\nEveryone quieted. Itar's guards flanked Des and Anastasia.\n\n\"E-cock-a-ou-e sa,\" Des said loudly, now thinking in Anasazi as he spoke to the warriors.\n\nHe told them how brave they had been in fighting the beasts and how proud he was of each and every one of them. He said Rawool and his men had been exceptionally valiant in attacking the beasts first\u2014and, through them, they had all gained strength. However, the cost of Rawool's courage had been high\u2014twelve of his men had perished in intense combat.\n\nDes continued, telling them that freedom was always costly, and the price now lay before them. He called out names of the dead, saying thank you after each one. He announced that Itar would awaken the dead warriors. Itar deserved such an army in his own kingdom.\n\nDes drew his sword from its sheath and turned towards the biers. He raised the sword above his head, then swiftly dropped the tip to the ground.\n\nThe fires burned for days.\n\n\"So,\" Mitch finished, chuckling, \"I bought two puppies!\" Samson and Delilah were curled up asleep behind him.\n\nThey were sitting cross-legged at the low table. Besides Des and Mitch, there were Lieutenant Mallory, Al\u00e9e and Sergeant Crow. Mallory and Crow were wearing army fatigues. Mitch was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Al\u00e9e wore a low-cut tunic, and as Mitch rambled on, she leaned towards him, revealing what was under that tunic to Mitch.\n\nDes filled the earthen mugs from a large urn and held up a mug.\n\n\"May I propose a toast? Here's to the successful end to war.\" He touched mugs with the others, who tipped them back.\n\nWhen Mitch finished, he had a foamy mustache. \"Des, this is\u2014\"\n\n\"Yes, I know.\"\n\n\"Now, if Anastasia has in that kitchen a flame-broiled, thick, juicy\u2014\"\n\n\"Mitch!\" Des shrieked.\n\n\"Eh, what?\"\n\n\"There are some things we need to talk about in private,\" Des said. Anastasia called Des to help carry the food.\n\nThey brought out baked salmon with almonds, asparagus, boiled baby potatoes, bread and butter, a tossed salad, bananas mixed with shredded coconut and sliced papaya.\n\nAnastasia sat next to Des while he filled plates with food and handed them out, along with spives.\n\nOver dinner, Mitch continued to ramble on as Al\u00e9e beamed.\n\nWhen most of the food was gone, Mallory poured everyone another beer, then said, \"You know why we're here.\"\n\nDes saw gooseflesh rise on Anastasia's arm as she stabbed her spive into her last bite of fish.\n\n\"I'm not going back,\" Des said softly.\n\nMitch plunged his spive into the table. \"Hear, hear! If Des stays, I stay.\" Al\u00e9e grinned.\n\nMallory said, \"All right, all right, nobody's required to be rescued. However, we are on somewhat of a tight schedule. We must leave tomorrow afternoon at the latest. So, if you gentlemen change your minds, you had better do so in a hurry. We won't be able to return for you.\"\n\nRay-na jogged in, breathless, and spoke quickly to Al\u00e9e and Anastasia, too fast for Des to understand. When she finished, she stood still, her chest heaving. Al\u00e9e stood. Anastasia blanched.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Des asked.\n\nTwo wolves entered, their tongues lolling, and headed straight for Anastasia.\n\nCrow suddenly held a Bowie knife. Mitch scooped up his puppies as Mallory began to withdraw an automatic weapon.\n\n\"Stop! All of you!\" Des demanded.\n\nThe wolves leaped on Anastasia. She cried out in pain.\n\n\"Down!\" Des said in Anasazi, then explained to the others in English, \"They don't know she's injured.\"\n\nThe wolves sat obediently, then sniffed at Anastasia's shoulder and whimpered. She patted their heads.\n\n\"They're fucking pets!\" Mitch said. \"Oops.\"\n\nDes replied, \"They're more than pets; they're working dogs\u2014and, from what Anastasia told me, they've been on assignment. Ray-na, we need to send runners to tell the villagers they can return home.\"\n\nAnastasia said sullenly, \"They already know. They are moving...coming back. Almost here.\"\n\n\"And\u2014?\" Des asked, wondering about her sudden change of mood.\n\n\"The supreme intertribal council is with them. My wolves were guarding them. They changed directions and will be here tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Des asked, thinking that Anastasia seemed awfully distracted.\n\n\"To decide my fate.\"\n\nDes hit the table with his fist, which jostled his beer mug. The law was coming. That son-of-a-bitch Rawool had reached out to them\u2014he must still be after Des' wife. That bastard!\n\nDes spoke to Ray-na in her language. \"Let me know when the council is nearby.\"\n\nAfter Ray-na left, Des said to Mallory, \"Lieutenant, your men are welcome to stay here tonight.\"\n\nMallory observed that it was a good idea to keep the Americans together, so he accepted Des' offer. The house was soon filled with men in fatigues eating rations.\n\nDes tucked Anastasia into bed with the wolves curled up by her feet. The pain relievers the medic had given her knocked her out quickly.\n\nOutside, sunlight filtered through threatening clouds. Des found Mitch sitting on the stone bench, Al\u00e9e at one hand and a beer in the other. He looked like he was on vacation in some tropical paradise in his Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals. Des thought Al\u00e9e would keep him in line: she was a warrior with her feet on the ground\u2014but she looked strangely different, too.\n\n\"Mitch?\"\n\n\"Yes, Des.\"\n\n\"I think it's time for a short man-to-man talk.\"\n\n\"Not a problem. Here, honey, hold this.\" Mitch handed his beer mug to Al\u00e9e. \"Now, stay right here. I'll be back.\"\n\nShe nodded, smiled and folded her legs up under her. Mitch patted her on the knee, then followed Des.\n\nMitch said, \"Hey, have you noticed how the sun stays straight overhead and never moves? I don't get that.\"\n\nDes watched the last rays of sunshine disappear behind black clouds. \"Yeah, I don't understand it either, but you get used to it.\"\n\nWhen Al\u00e9e was out of earshot, Des said, \"The villagers here are descendents of two great nations of people from the surface of Earth; they arrived the same way I did. They've bonded together to withstand a common enemy. Anastasia is from one tribe, Rawool the other. The council could annul our marriage and force her to marry Rawool.\"\n\n\"So this guy Rawool wants your wife, and the council may think it's a good idea to end up with a common heritage.\"\n\n\"Exactly. I think it's one of their newer policies because the two tribes haven't always seen eye to eye. They do agree on one item\u2014both cultures are devout vegetarians.\"\n\nMitch seemed deep in thought, so Des continued: \"All life is revered and respected. I've grown to love the people and this land, most of their customs and beliefs, and I'm not leaving. If I have to, I'll fight to keep Anastasia\u2014and here, they fight to the death.\"\n\n\"I hope that's not necessary,\" Mitch said.\n\nDes sighed. \"I hope so, too.\"\n\nMitch said, \"Yeah, Al\u00e9e and I would miss you.\"\n\nDes smiled and cuffed Mitch on the shoulder. \"Hey, I'm not that easy to beat.\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" Mitch said. \"Vegetarians, eh? I'd say giving up meat's a small price to pay for paradise.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 45\n\nIt rained all night and the fog never lifted the next day.\n\nDes helped Anastasia down the mountain. There was a cacophony from the beach. Camels bayed. Men shouted. Children screamed at play. Beast cremation fires continued to roar and spark as warriors tended the flames. A woman shrieked when she discovered her house had been burned.\n\nBethenna found them. She carefully hugged Anastasia, then took both of Des' hands and kissed him on the cheek. Des was astonished. Bethenna pointed into the fog, then the three of them moved through the managed chaos.\n\nDes remembered other meetings he had attended here, and he eventually understood that if you didn't know the players, you couldn't tell who held the power. Maybe it was a protection device\u2014if the enemy was unaware of whom the chiefs were, then the chain of command wouldn't be broken. Three men sat cross-legged on mats and another two meandered behind them, listening to Rawool speak as he walked around the inner circle. Des fingered the hilt of his sword, aware that the real power behind the council remained hidden.\n\nRawool began shouting, his voice clear as he pounded a fist against his open hand.\n\nDes saw a man in the outer circle and instantly realized that it was he who was the chief of all chiefs. He appeared about the same age as Des. It wasn't his plain tunic or shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair that betrayed him\u2014it was his face. Although he looked strangely familiar, Des was sure he hadn't seen him before.\n\n\"Who is he?\" Des asked Anastasia, indicating the warrior.\n\nShe said, \"Atar. He is Itar's son's son's son's son. He is head of council.\"\n\nDes said, \"Pure Anasazi blood. How did he gain the power?\"\n\n\"He is my brother,\" Anastasia replied, as if this explained everything.\n\n\"Can he overturn the council's vote if they side with Rawool?\" Des was truly surprised. Not only did he not know that Anastasia and Bethenna had a brother, but she'd never told him that she was related to Itar. He wondered what other revelations might be forthcoming.\n\n\"Abba,\" she replied, \"but it would certainly lead to war. Atar knows this.\"\n\nWhile Rawool spoke, Atar and Des were studying each other. Atar nodded slightly; Des bowed.\n\nAnastasia told Des, \"Atar heard what you said about Itar when he died, that you called Itar a god and released the dead warriors to be in his army.\"\n\nRawool finally finished, then walked away from the seated warriors and sat on the sand.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi,\" Bethenna shouted, right behind Des' ear.\n\nShe stomped in front of the council and spat upon the ground. Her speech was loud and fast, but Des picked up most of it. She spat again, then walked sternly over to stand with Anastasia and Des after she finished.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi, yi!\" Des yelled.\n\nHe panned the council with one hand on his sword, then said in their language: \"Where I come from, we don't treat wives like cattle. Anastasia is not for sale or trade, at any price.\"\n\nHe walked back to Anastasia just as Mitch arrived with an M-60 strapped to his chest. Al\u00e9e stood between him and Des, holding her war club.\n\nAnastasia said, \"If the council votes in favor of Rawool, I must go with him. Otherwise, the Aztec will kill you and anyone who tries to defend you. Their word binds us all. It is our way.\"\n\nMitch said, \"We can't take that chance. We need to act before the council votes. Mallory thinks we can give these folks a run for their money.\"\n\nDes was appalled. \"I'm not going to let you shoot my people!\"\n\nThe council members were talking amongst themselves\u2014Atar included.\n\n\"Then _do_ something, Des,\" Mitch pleaded.\n\n\"All right, follow me.\"\n\nDes approached the council with Anastasia by his side, Mitch and Al\u00e9e behind them. Mitch noisily loaded a round into the M-60's chamber. The outer circle parted and hushed. Atar looked at Des and frowned.\n\nDes knew that no one was supposed to address the council while they were making a decision, but he spoke anyway.\n\n\"Anastasia and I are going to leave and no longer be a part of this. We will begin a new tribe somewhere else. Any persons who wish to come with us would be welcome.\"\n\nA camel bayed; the only other sound was the crackling of the beast fires.\n\n\"Yi, yi, yi!\" A high-pitched voice rose from behind the council.\n\nB`ahta stepped in behind Al\u00e9e, dragging her war club behind her.\n\nA bloodcurdling war-whoop heralded Ray-na's arrival to stand behind Mitch.\n\nItar's guards moved to flank Des and Anastasia.\n\nSoon, masses of warriors were on the move to stand with Des' group.\n\n\"Stop!\" Atar shouted in the Aztec tongue.\n\nThe warriors ceased their movement and turned to him.\n\nAtar continued: \"You underestimate the wisdom of this council. We accept Des as our king, and reinstate Anastasia as our queen. The council has spoken.\"\n\n\"We need to leave soon,\" Mallory said to Des and Mitch on the beach.\n\nDes nodded in agreement.\n\nMallory continued: \"You're sure that...Okay, I'm on a rescue mission, but not only do you not want to be rescued, but Mitch wants to stay here, too?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Mitch responded quickly.\n\n\"Well, guys, I would be the laughingstock of any unit. This just won't work. You'll have to go with us,\" Mallory said with a smile. He called to Sergeant Crow, who trotted over with his rifle slung across his back. \"I need two pens and some paper,\" he told Crow.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nMallory turned back to Des and Mitch. \"Okay, let's assume you're dead\u2014because I can't rescue dead men, can I?\"\n\n\"You've got a point,\" Des said.\n\n\"I want each of you to write a letter to your family, which I will personally deliver to them, answering any of their questions. But no one else will know about this, understood?\"\n\nBoth Des and Mitch nodded. They took pen and paper from Crow and walked over to a rock outcropping on the sand, where they sat.\n\nDes wrote:\n\n> _To the best parents ever and my wonderful sister Kaitlin,_\n> \n> _I am sitting on the most beautiful beach, with crystalline, turquoise water and gentle lapping waves. The land I have found is paradise, with abundant food and foliage. Mitch is here with me. Lieutenant Mallory wanted us to go back with him; it was our choice to stay._\n> \n> _I have met and married the woman of my dreams. Anastasia is a queen, a real queen, a ruler of fantastic people, and the likes of whom I have never met before! They have chosen me to be their king._\n> \n> _My only regret is not being able to see you again and be a part of your lives. But you will always be close in my heart, as I know I will be in yours._\n> \n> _All my love,_\n> \n> _Des_\n\n\"Switch letters?\" Mitch asked when Des finished.\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nMitch's letter read:\n\n> _Dear Mom,_\n> \n> _Miss you lots. I can't call\u2014no service._\n> \n> _Hey, got some news: I found a girl. She's just like what you said I needed. She's neat. I'm staying with her, okay? Stay cool._\n> \n> _Your son,_\n> \n> _Mitch_\n\nDes laughed. \"You're supposed to write something more personal.\"\n\nMitch grabbed back his letter and added:\n\n> _P.S. You know I was never fucking good at writing. Good luck with the new man. I will think about you often._\n> \n> _All my love, Alicia._\n\n\"That's better,\" Des said.\n\nWhen Mallory heard them laughing, he called, \"Finished?\"\n\n\"I guess so,\" Des said.\n\nMallory sealed their letters in envelopes and zipped them into his breast pocket.\n\nDes heard someone running toward them from the village. Anastasia appeared out of the fog with Al\u00e9e close behind her.\n\n\"Des,\" Anastasia panted, \"the beasts return.\"\n\nMallory began to deploy his troops.\n\nDes told Anastasia, \"Quickly, move the council members to Adeyo's hut. Lock the children and elders in the museum. Get the horses out of the paddocks and the cavalry ready. Watch the river; they know it's a weak spot now. Form three lines of defense, one halfway up the mountain to Sight Rock trail, one on the trail and one above that. War clubs and swords only; we don't have enough darts left. We will hold them on the beach as long as possible, then we'll fall back to the first line of defense. From there, we'll feign a controlled retreat. When I signal you, have the second line charge down into them. The warriors will need to hit them hard, then the third line, too. Save the horses unless we are totally overrun. Understood?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. She was gone.\n\nAl\u00e9e hugged Mitch.\n\n\"Go on,\" Mitch said, patting her rump.\n\nShe ran after Anastasia, looking back only once. Mitch watched her until she disappeared into the fog.\n\nA uniformed soldier ran past them and lay prone on the sand, then chambered the first round in his weapon.\n\nDes unsheathed his sword.\n\n\"You're unarmed,\" he whispered to Mitch.\n\nMitch cracked his knuckles. \"That's what you think.\"\n\nThey waited behind a large rock. Des peeked over into the fog; the sea was still. He strained for any sound, imagining thousands of beasts rising out of the calm sea, an indestructible machine that would destroy them all.\n\nA splash. Then another. The splashing oars were a death-knell.\n\nDes ducked down quickly.\n\nThe sound of the sentinel beast boat was getting closer.\n\nDes tightened his grip on his sword. They must stop them here on the beach, no matter what the cost. Fight until death.\n\nDes shook Mitch's hand. \"No retreat.\"\n\n\"Fuck no.\" \n\n##\n\n# Chapter 46\n\n\"I smell barbeque, don't you, George?\"\n\n\"For once, you might be right.\"\n\nSed laughed. \"At least we won't have to rely on your fishin' anymore.\"\n\n\"What's wrong with my fishing?\"\n\n\"Your fishin' stinks!\" Sed howled with laughter, lifted his oar from the water, then smacked it down briskly.\n\n\"Hey, you're getting me wet!\"\n\nGeorge removed his wide-brimmed hat and shook it.\n\n\"And your sailin'\u2014where'd you learn how to sail? You've got the main sheet goin' the wrong way.\"\n\n\"Look, I've sailed with the best of them.\"\n\n\"Ri-ight!\" Sed giggled, popping the cork from a bottle and swigging. He passed it to George, who downed it all.\n\n\"George?\" Sed asked.\n\n\"What, George?\"\n\n\"We're coming to land.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, how'd you know my name was George? Nobody's called me 'George' for years. And here you come along and la-de-dah, 'Hi George.' I nearly had a heart palpitation!\"\n\nGeorge looked at his dark companion at the bow of the dinghy and smiled. Sed had been good company over the past few months, and sometimes even riotous fun.\n\n\"It was just a guess, okay?\" He hefted a paddle of water towards Sed.\n\n\"Hey, if you're going to get me wet, take this!\"\n\nThe boat bumped softly ashore. Sed splashed into the water and giggled when he almost fell.\n\n\"Looky here,\" Sed said. \"Houses. Where there are houses, there are people, and this time, I get to be the god. You always get to be the god.\"\n\n\"Okay, you're a god.\"\n\nGeorge climbed out and somehow managed to stay relatively dry. Rope in hand, he searched for a place to tie-up.\n\n\"And don't forget to bow down low when I tell you to.\"\n\n\"I won't.\"\n\nGeorge found a large rock and looped the rope around it. When he turned, he saw a red dot appear on Sed's chest.\n\nSed brushed at it, then wiped his brow. Another bright red dot appeared on Sed's forehead and several more on his chest.\n\nSed raised both hands high over his head. \"Don't shoot.\"\n\nA man in Army fatigues, holding an automatic weapon, stepped out from behind a rock.\n\n\"Don't shoot. Please don't shoot,\" Sed begged.\n\nGeorge saw more soldiers coming around from large rocks; another was lying prone on the beach. One man was walking towards them; he was lowering his rifle. Now George could clearly see the insignias on their jackets and the flags on their helmets.\n\nChecking a photograph he'd removed from his pocket, the approaching soldier asked, \"Are you George Barrington?\"\n\nGeorge hesitated slightly, knowing things were about to change dramatically. He didn't want it to, but accepted his fate. He thought that the past few weeks had been the best adventure anyone could have had.\n\n\"Yes...I am.\"\n\n\"I'm Lieutenant Mallory, U.S. Army Special Forces. We've come to take you home.\" \n\n# Expedition Beyond\n\n### Roger Bagg\n\n###### Author\n\nRoger Bagg\n\n###### Publisher\n\nFiction Studio Books\n\n###### Copyright\n\n(c) 2011 by Roger Bagg\n\n###### ISBN\n\n9781936558230\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \nAn Archive of Hope\nThe publisher gratefully acknowledges the generous\n\nsupport of the General Endowment Fund of the\n\nUniversity of California Press Foundation.\nAn Archive of Hope\n\nHarvey Milk's Speeches and Writings\n\nHarvey Milk\n\nEdited by Jason Edward Black and\n\nCharles E. Morris III\n\nUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS\n\nBerkeley\u00b7Los Angeles\u00b7London\nUniversity of California Press, one of the most distinguished university presses in the United States, enriches lives around the world by advancing scholarship in the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. Its activities are supported by the UC Press Foundation and by philanthropic contributions from individuals and institutions. For more information, visit www.ucpress.edu.\n\nUniversity of California Press\n\nBerkeley and Los Angeles, California\n\nUniversity of California Press, Ltd.\n\nLondon, England\n\n\u00a9 2013 by The Regents of the University of California\n\n\u00a9 Foreword 2012 by Frank M. Robinson\n\nLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data\n\nMilk, Harvey.\n\nAn archive of hope : Harvey Milk's speeches and writings \/ Harvey Milk; edited by Jason Edward Black and Charles E. Morris III.\n\npages cm\n\nIncludes bibliographical references.\n\nISBN 978-0-520-27548-5 (cloth : alk. paper)\n\nISBN 978-0-520-27549-2 (pbk. : alk. paper)\n\neISBN: 9780520955028\n\n1. San Francisco (Calif.)\u2014Politics and government\u201420th century\u2014Sources. 2. San Francisco (Calif.). Board of Supervisors\u2014History\u201420th century\u2014Sources. 3. Gay liberation movement\u2014California\u2014San Francisco\u2014History\u201420th century\u2014Sources. 4. Gay men\u2014Political activity\u2014California\u2014San Francisco\u2014History\u201420th century\u2014Sources. 5. Milk, Harvey\u2014Archives. 6. Politicians\u2014California\u2014San Francisco\u2014Archives. 7. Gay men\u2014California\u2014San Francisco\u2014Archives.\n\nI. Black, Jason Edward. II. Morris, Charles E., 1969- III. Title.\n\nF869.S357M55 2013\n\n979.4'61053092-dc232012039811\n\nManufactured in the United States of America\n\n22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13\n\n10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1\n\nIn keeping with a commitment to support environmentally responsible and sustainable printing practices, UC Press has printed this book on Rolland Enviro100, a 100% post-consumer fiber paper that is FSC certified, deinked, processed chlorine-free, and manufactured with renewable biogas energy. It is acid-free and EcoLogo certified.\nContents\n\nPreface\n\nForeword: \"Harvey\"\n\nFrank M. Robinson\n\nIntroduction: Harvey Milk's Political Archive and Archival Politics\n\nPART ONE. MILK AND THE CULTURE OF POPULISM\n\n 1.\"Interview with Harvey Milk\"\n\nKalendar, August 17, 1973\n\n 2.\"Address to the San Francisco Chapter of the National Women's Political Caucus\"\n\nSpeech, September 5, 1973\n\n 3.\"Address to the Joint International Longshoremen & Warehousemen's Union of San Francisco and to the Lafayette Club\"\n\nSpeech, September 30, 1973\n\n 4.\"An Open Letter to the Mayor of San Francisco\"\n\nPublic letter, September 22, 1973\n\n 5.\"MUNI\/Parking Garage\"\n\nPress release, September 27, 1973\n\n 6.\"Alfred Seniora\"\n\nPress release, September 28, 1973\n\n 7.\"Who Really Represents You\"\n\nCampaign flyer, September 1973\n\n 8.\"Milk Note\"\n\nColumn, Vector, February 1, 1974\n\n 9.\"Anyone Can Be a Movie Critic: How Not to Find Leadership\"\n\nEditorial, San Francisco Crusader, February 1974\n\n10.\"Letter to the City of San Francisco Hall of Justice on Police Brutality\"\n\nPublic letter, February 14, 1974\n\n11.\"Where I Stand\"\n\nArticle draft, Sentinel, March 28, 1974\n\n12.\"Where There Is No Victim, There Is No Crime\"\n\nPress release, April 1, 1974\n\n13.\"Political Power\"\n\nArticle draft, Sentinel, May 23, 1974\n\n14.\"Letter to the San Francisco Chronicle about Anti-Gay Editorials\"\n\nLetter draft, July 1, 1974\n\n15.\"Library or Performing Arts Center\"\n\nPress release, December 4, 1974\n\nPART TWO. THE GRASSROOTS ACTIVIST BECOMES \"THE MAYOR OF CASTRO STREET\"\n\n16.\"Au Contraire . . . PCR Needed\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, February 9, 1975\n\n17.\"Harvey Milk for Supervisor\"\n\nCampaign letter, February 26, 1975\n\n18.\"Statement of Harvey Milk, Candidate for the 16th Assembly District\"\n\nCampaign material, March 9, 1976\n\n19.\"Reactionary Beer\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, March 18, 1976\n\n20.\"Nixon's Revenge\u2014The Republicans and Their Supreme Court\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, 15 April 1976\n\n21.\"My Concept as a Legislator\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, May 27, 1976\n\n22.\"Uncertainty of Carter or the Certainty of Ford\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, September 2, 1976\n\n23.\"A Nation Finally Talks About ... It\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, June 9, 1977\n\n24.\"Gay Economic Power\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, September 15, 1977\n\n25.\"You've Got to Have Hope\"\n\nSpeech, June 24, 1977\n\nPART THREE. SUPERVISOR MILK SPEAKS\n\n26.\"Harvey Speaks Out\"\n\nInterview, Bay Area Reporter, December 8, 1977\n\n27.\"A City of Neighborhoods: First Major Address I and II\"\n\nReprinted speech, Bay Area Reporter, January 10, 1978 and February 2, 1978\n\n28.\"The Word is Out\"\n\nPublic letter, February 1, 1978\n\n29.\"Letter to 'Abe' on Domestic Politics\"\n\nPrivate letter, February 7, 1978\n\n30.\"Letter to Council Members re Judging People by Myths\"\n\nPublic letter, March 13, 1978\n\n31.\"Resolution Requiring State Department to Close the South African Consulate\" and \"Closing the Consulate\"\n\nPress releases, March 22, 1978\n\n32.\"Letter to President Jimmy Carter\"\n\nPrivate letter, April 12, 1978\n\n33.\"Untitled (on Gay Caucus and Gay Power)\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter,\" April 27, 1978\n\n34.\"California Gay Caucus\"\n\nArticle draft, Alternate, May 12, 1978\n\nPART FOUR. MILK AND THE POLITICS OF GAY RIGHTS\n\n35.\"Keynote Speech at Gay Conference 5\"\n\nTape cassette transcription of speech, June 10, 1978\n\n36.\"Gay Rights\"\n\nArticle draft, Coast to Coast, June 16, 1978\n\n37.\"Gay Freedom Day Speech\"\n\nReprinted speech, Bay Area Reporter, June 25, 1978\n\n38.\"To Beat Briggs\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, August 3, 1978\n\n39.\"I Have High Hopes Address\"\n\nStump speech, 1978\n\n40.\"Harvey Milk vs. John Briggs\"\n\nTelevised debate transcription, August 6, 1978\n\n41.\"The Positive or the Negative\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, August 31, 1978\n\n42.\"Statement on Briggs\/Bigotry\"\n\nPublic letter, September 22, 1978\n\n43.\"Overall Needs of the City\"\n\nSpeech, September 25, 1978\n\n44.\"Ballot Argument Against Proposition 6\"\n\nPublic letter (with Frank Robinson), November 7, 1978\n\nPART FIVE. HARVEY'S LAST WORDS\n\n45.\"Political Will\"\n\nTape cassette transcription, November 18, 1977\n\nDocument List\n\nEditor Biographies\nPreface\n\nAn Archive of Hope is about Harvey Milk and gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer (GLBTQ) memory and history. We believe that GLBTQ pasts, such as the multifaceted configurations of Milk, are invaluable and underutilized as the inventional resources for GLBTQ well-being, relationships, communities, culture, politics, and movement in the present and future.\n\nThis is easier espoused than enacted. Historically and presently, numerous constraints and disincentives have made inhabiting and mobilizing GLBTQ pasts very difficult, and in some instances, impossible. One ongoing challenge concerns the where of GLBTQ history and memory, where it can be found and how it is marked or unmarked; the term archive in this context should signify anything but ample, obvious, accessible, sanctioned. And we say this as people in awe of the gains made by GLBTQ collectors, archivists, librarians, historical societies, and museums in the United States. In an important sense, the more vexing challenge is what we might call the please of GLBTQ history and memory, that is, the will and desire for the past. The challenges come from a systemic problem (rarely if ever are GLBTQ history and memory encountered in schools), a communal problem (indifference to GLBTQ history and memory is acculturated), and a rhetorical problem (inducements to GLBTQ history and memory require much more attention to appeal and audience).\n\nWe don't remember when we first encountered Harvey Milk. Paradoxically, he seems to have been long a presence and also in short supply. Chuck had been screening Rob Epstein's powerful, Academy Award-winning documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk (1984), in his social protest seminars since the late 1990s; Jason for years had been teaching the \"Hope Speech\" and had worked with the Harvey Milk City Hall Memorial Committee to select quotations to appear on the Milk bust unveiled in San Francisco in 2008. Yet when we began talking about this project in 2006, we both had a strong sense that despite our belief in Milk's significant place in GLBTQ history and memory, he did not seem substantially recollected anymore, except perhaps in San Francisco itself (and that was a hunch). Only a handful of Milk's speeches and writings circulated publicly at the time, as now: four in an appendix in Shilts's Mayor of Castro Street and a token representative, \"You Gotta Give 'Em Hope,\" in a small number of anthologies. How could this be? Harvey Milk matters\u2014our mantra\u2014so we decided to figure out what else there might be.\n\nHaving successfully persuaded The University of Alabama and Boston College to provide us grant monies for a project on Harvey Milk (rhetorical challenges to GLBTQ memory and history are multiple and varied), we first flew to San Francisco in 2007 to explore the Milk collection at the San Francisco Public Library (SFPL), which we knew had recently opened to the public in 2003. We were not sure what we would find, even though the Harvey Milk Archives\u2014Scott Smith Collection index (GLC 35), available online, had us wide-eyed with imagined possibilities. To our amazement, we discovered at the SFPL a remarkable trove of Milk's words in various forms: speeches, editorials, columns, press releases, event fliers, campaign materials, correspondences, and interviews. Astonishingly, it became apparent from our conversations with the SFPL archivists and librarians that few others were availing themselves of the Milk archive, despite the rare opportunity here of a well-organized and available, institutionally supported and authorized collection of a GLBTQ historical figure better known and appreciated than most. (Interest seems to have increased significantly as our project has come to its completion, owing perhaps to the visibility generated by the film Milk; see \"Condensed Milk: A [Somewhat] Shortlist of Harvey Milk Resources,\" <http:\/\/sfhcbasc.blogspot.com\/2012\/05\/condensed-milk-somewhat-short-list-of.html>.)\n\nWalking past Harvey Milk Plaza into the historic neighborhood of many GLBTQ dreams on that day in 2007, we toasted with a celebratory beer at Harvey's, the gay bar at Castro and 18th named in his memory and adorned with his images, all smiles over Milk's legacy being alive and well and available to be mobilized. A block away, at 575 Castro Street, marveling like pilgrims in front of what had been Milk's camera shop and political headquarters, beneath the second-story mural of Harvey wearing a t-shirt with his mantra, \"You Gotta Give 'Em Hope,\" we committed ourselves as archival queers to doing what we could to help circulate and promulgate this invaluable archive. We went back to the SFPL in 2009, and the five years of this project have been consumed with the challenges of disposition, which is to say the culling, organizing, contextualizing, and rhetorically configuring this selected volume of Milk's speeches and writings. An Archive of Hope represents our best effort to do so (any shortcomings are squarely our own), an assemblage of artifacts from Milk's rhetorical and political corpus, most not seen publicly since they were originally published or delivered in the 1970s. Our hope is that Milk's voice, and ours, will in this book help to constitute one archival queer exhibition that contributes to the where and please of GLBTQ pasts.\n\nOur fortune in this project has been an embarrassment of riches, and these brief lines of gratitude won't suffice but will have to do, at least in print. We simply can't believe that the fabulous Danny Nicoletta\u2014so well-known and admired, so busy with his many significant projects\u2014gave so much to our project, generously, copiously, whenever we asked. Danny is a GLBTQ treasure in his own right, and his proximity to Harvey Milk and Milk's memory, to GLBTQ San Francisco's past and present, for us made him our muse, our mentor, our Sherpa\u2014electric and talismanic. We knew that An Archive of Hope had promise during our first meeting with Danny over dinner at Catch on Market Street, the very site where the Names Project transformed the world stitch by stitch into the AIDS Quilt. His encouragement has made all the difference.\n\nThe other guiding light of this project is Frank Robinson. Frank, too, is a great gift to GLBTQ history, and someone, we hope, will write his biography. Brilliant, gruff, witty, big-hearted, and a real \"character,\" Frank both challenged and fostered our work. He made plain in no uncertain terms that he would not talk about Harvey Milk in a restaurant over lunch. So instead he welcomed us into his home, opened to us his files in the upstairs den, let us spread out materials in his kitchen, and sat for a long interview in his living room. Memory, of course, is both pleasure and pain, and we know Frank's conjuring of Harvey Milk was not always easy, more evidence of Frank's generosity of spirit. And what a storyteller Frank is: how lucky we were to be the beneficiaries. Then, when the day's research was done, Frank looked at us, smiled, and said, \"Now you may take me to dinner.\" And dine we did, once at the historic Hotel Whitcomb's Market Street Caf\u00e9, one of his favorite spots.\n\nNumerous others, in plentiful ways, materially and affectively, made our research and writing of this book possible, easier, pleasurable, better. The University of Alabama and Boston College offered financial support of our San Francisco trips through multiple grants.\n\nAt the James C. Hormel Gay and Lesbian Center in the San Francisco Public Library, Tim Wilson and Susan Goldstein warmly and enthusiastically endorsed and supported us and this project, and provided all the resources and expertise we needed and could have hoped for. Our many wonderful encounters with Tim in the reading room of the San Francisco History Center of the SFPL made us feel at home among friends, and when we returned in 2009, two years after our initial trip, the three of us fell right back into step.\n\nFor research and copyright assistance, we offer our thanks to Heather Cassell and Karen Sundheim at Hormel, Rebekah Kim and Daniel Bao at the GLBT Historical Society, Cynthia Laird at the Bay Area Reporter, Walter Caplan, David Lamble, Tom Spitz at KPIX\/KBCW, Alex Cherian at the San Francisco Bay Area TV Archive, Ken Liss at O'Neill Library at Boston College, and Patrick Shannon at the Bancroft Library of UC Berkeley. Our research assistants, Benjamin Kimmerle and Gyromas Newman, handled many of our transcription assignments with good humor and good work.\n\nSan Francisco visits came with the warmest of welcomes and hospitality from friends and colleagues Gust Yep, John Elia, Ralph Smith and Russel Windes, Dan Saffer, Rink Foto, Jeff Sens, Jack Keatings and Tom Booth at Hotel Frank\/Maxwell, and the staff at Harvey's.\n\nAt University of California Press, Kim Robinson's patience, counsel, and encouragement guided us through project vision and revision en route to a remarkably better book than the manuscript we submitted, for which we are so thankful. And we thank, too, Stacy Eisenstark for all her help during the production process.\n\nJason: This project, one borne from a mutual admiration of Harvey's story, has resulted in much more than the glorious fruits of an archival journey. For me, An Archive of Hope has also fostered a lifelong friendship\u2014a story unto itself. Throughout the past seven years\u2014from San Francisco visits and Castro meanderings to writing sessions on a Boston rooftop and planning sessions on a Tuscaloosa riverboat\u2014I have found a brother in Chuck Morris. I want to wholeheartedly thank Chuck for enlivening our work, for teaching me the nuances of queer worldmaking, and for supporting me when I needed it the most. An Archive of Hope would never have been realized and completed without his care and determination. I am genuinely honored and fortunate to consider Chuck a part of my family.\n\nI would also like to express appreciation to my friends at The University of Alabama for all of their encouragement on this project. I am particularly indebted to Adam Sharples and Meredith Bagley for sharing their knowledge about LGBTQ memory and their mutual love for Harvey; to Beth S. Bennett, my good friend and mentor, for supporting An Archive of Hope every step of the way; to students in my undergraduate and graduate seminars for the many productive conversations about Harvey and the \"hope trope\"; and to my colleagues in the College of Communication & Information Sciences for their willingness to entertain my musings about and ardor for Harvey's story.\n\nFinally, I am grateful to have a moment to thank my partner Jennifer Black and daughters Anabelle and Amelia for all of their love. I am blessed (and awed) by their understanding and patience\u2014both related to this project and always. This anthology has been a part of our lives for the better part of a decade. My wish is that Harvey's name and words will remain constantly with us as a reminder of the possibilities of love and the resonance of hope.\n\nChuck: I beamed late one evening in 2006 when I read an email from Jason Black inviting me to consider collaborating with him on a Harvey Milk project. The idea excited me at that moment, but it would be our unfolding friendship that most enriched and sustained me as that idea transformed into this book. I now feel as if I've known Jason my whole life, and he's become indigenous to my world, for which I am enormously grateful and deeply happy.\n\nDuring this project I lost two of my sweetest inspirations, Alex and Augustine, whose love and curiosity meant so much to me, and whose spirits still fill me.\n\nAmong the living, my friends make daily work and life richly rewarding, and for their laughter and comfort and wisdom I thank Dale, Dan, Rob, Tom, Andrew, David, Mary Kate, Chuck and Ginny, Jackie, Shea, Katie, Andrew, Austin, Vanessa, Karma and Sara, Jeff and Isaac, Kendall, Erin, Lance, Bob, Pam, Bonnie, John, Keith and Bob, the Boston Rhetoric Reading Group, and all my field and Facebook pals.\n\nFinally, I dedicate my effort here to my partner Scott Rose, my Gatto, for giving the deepest meaning and feeling to living and loving and intervening in the GLBTQ world, and to our boys, Jackson and Cooper, with all my heart.\nFOREWORD\n\nHarvey\n\nFRANK M. ROBINSON\n\nHarvey Milk was one of the most significant of the American political figures of the twentieth century. He started as a Goldwater Republican and ended his life as the last of the store-front politicians\u2014those who ran for public office with no money, their stores their campaign headquarters, and their following largely those who stopped in to buy something and stayed to talk politics with the owner.\n\nAn \"openly gay man,\" as the newspapers of the time referred to Harvey, his constituency was the largely closeted gay population of San Francisco. Harvey was anything but\u2014he was openly gay not only in the gay enclave of the Castro, but to the world at large.\n\nHe was to become the first gay man to win a major political office in the United States\u2014despite the fact that gays were the last important group in the country who were subject to nationally approved prejudice. Tolerance was the most that a gay man could expect\u2014acceptance was seldom granted.\n\nIn the city of San Francisco, the gay community was represented by politicians who were the \"friends of gays\" but never gay themselves.\n\nIt was Harvey's unique idea that gays should be represented by one of their own. The black community was represented by black politicians\u2014they could hardly change the color of their skin. But gays had the option of hiding, and that was the course that most of them took. You could vote anonymously at the ballot box, but to acknowledge your homosexuality to the world at large could be extremely risky when it came to family, friends, or employment. It might be okay for Harvey to be openly gay, but it wasn't okay for most gays, and sometimes it could be physically dangerous.\n\nHarvey was out to change all that. He turned his shop into a place for voter registration and urged all gays to \"come out\"\u2014saying that people would never change their viewpoint on homosexuality unless they had actually met some homosexuals. Families might view their \"single\" aunts and uncles with suspicion, but as long as gay people \"hid,\" they were tolerated.\n\nBy the time Harvey was elected to office as a San Francisco supervisor, those who suffered from the \"love that dare not speak its name\" had learned to shout.\n\nHarvey was martyred after less than a year in office. His funeral procession led from 17th and Castro to City Hall and numbered 40,000. He was honored with a play produced locally; a biography, The Mayor of Castro Street by Randy Shilts, who wrote it for an advance of ten grand, peanuts in the publishing business; a successful television documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk (currently available on DVD); an opera that played in Houston, New York, and San Francisco; and a movie starring Sean Penn (he won an Oscar for it) with a screenplay by Dustin Lance Black (who also won an Oscar and gave an acceptance speech that earned him a standing ovation). After that, the small plaza at the corner of Castro and 17th, the staging area for so many of the rallies and marches Harvey led, was named after him.\n\nAnd oh yes, you could buy a coffee mug with Harvey's picture on it from one of the souvenir shops on Castro.\n\nBut ask most young gay men about Harvey Milk and you'll get a blank stare and \"Harvey who?\"\n\nA simple answer would be, \"He's the man who changed your world.\" But memories are usually passed from one generation to another\u2014from the third (grandfathers) to the second to the current one. For the gay community, except for a few, there is no second generation. It was largely wiped out by the AIDS epidemic.\n\nThis collection of speeches and writings is aimed not only at professors and researchers but also at a younger generation who might be assigned by their teachers to read it or who pick it up on their own.\n\nHarvey.\n\nIn print.\n\nA collection of his speeches and writings that resonated through the gay community and made it into a major political force in the country today.\n\nHarvey was a tall, thin man in his early forties, with the improbable name of \"Harvey Milk,\" who ran a camera shop on Castro Street. I lived in \"Pneumonia Heights,\" a hill above the Castro, and used to walk down every morning for breakfast. One day he was out in front of his shop playing with Kid, the store's dog, and we started to talk. I told him I wrote books for a living, and he said he ran the store and once he'd run for supervisor.\n\nHe said he got 15,000 votes his first time out, and I was properly impressed. In Chicago the biggest political event we'd ever held was a \"kiss-in\" in front of City Hall\u2014all one hundred of us.\n\nHe told me he was going to run for Supervisor again and asked whether I wanted to write speeches for him. \"It'll be a hoot,\" he said. \"We'll stir some shit.\"\n\nDespite Harvey's 15,000 votes, I never for a moment thought he would win anything.\n\nAs a speechwriter, I soon discovered that I was just another cog in Harvey's embryo political machine. Scott Smith, his lover, ran the day-to-day management of the store as well as Harvey's campaigns (he and Harvey split after the first two. John Ryckman ran the third, and Anne Kronenberg, the fourth, as well as moved to City Hall with him when he won).\n\nJim Rivaldo and Dick Pabich wrote most of his campaign flyers. Some of the speeches Harvey gave nobody wrote for him. There were no teleprompters back then, and one of his speeches (Keynote Address, Gay Conference 5, Dallas, Texas) ran to seventeen typewritten pages. I'm pretty sure he spoke from a handful of notes, filling in as he went along. Mayor Feinstein\u2014who had no love for Harvey because he frequently disagreed with her and wouldn't follow the party line\u2014complained that Harvey talked too long and too often.\n\nI wrote a number of Harvey's shorter speeches, as well as an occasional article for the Bay Area Reporter's \"Forum.\" Harvey was far from illiterate\u2014he could have written most of his speeches himself. But he couldn't do both and campaign as well. To a large extent, I was the pencil in Harvey's hand. We were both populists and agreed on practically all of his political positions. He was for the neighborhoods against downtown, and he championed the elderly, the unions, and the ethnic groups that made up the patchwork quilt of the city's population. He was insistent that those who drew a salary from the city should also live in the city. He never forgot the policeman who lived out of town and told him, \"You couldn't pay me to live there\"\u2014meaning San Francisco. He was tight with the unions, who were among his first supporters, and said a kind word about them whenever he could.\n\nHe was insistent about three things: The gay community should be represented by a gay man. The \"friends of gays\" who usually represented the community until Harvey came to town could change their positions depending on which way the political winds were blowing. An African American couldn't change the color of his skin and voted for one of his own. And an \"openly gay man\" would never be able to disavow his sexual orientation.\n\nThe latter was put to the test when gays had been granted civil rights in a few states, which upset Anita Bryant, a spokeswoman for the Florida orange juice growers. She started a campaign against gays that rolled across the country, gathering support as it went. In California, State Senator John Briggs picked up on it and introduced a bill to ban all homosexual teachers in the public school system. The bill was winning in the polls, and suddenly the \"friends of gays\" faded into the background.\n\nIt was Harvey who debated Briggs up and down the state (including the conservative stronghold of Orange County). Nobody wrote for him when he was on the road\u2014he shot from the hip. (\"How do you teach homosexuality? Like you'd teach French.\")\n\nThe proposition lost.\n\nHigh on Harvey's list of things to talk about was voting. He was well aware that power came from the ballot box, but many gays didn't bother to vote. He urged everybody in his audiences to \"come out\" and publicly acknowledge that they were gay. \"How can people change their minds about us if they don't know who we are?\"\n\nVoting was easy. \"Coming out\" was another story. You could lose your family, your friends, and your job. Harvey was admired for being openly gay, but it wasn't a decision that many others were willing to make. It was easy to be \"out\" in the Castro\u2014you could live there for weeks without meeting a straight man.\n\nBut being \"out\" in the world at large was a vastly different cup of tea.\n\nMost of Harvey's positions were easy to write about\u2014I'd been active in gay politics in Chicago and Harvey and I were two peas from the same pod.\n\nThe speech he gave most often was a barnburner, but I couldn't tell you who wrote it. It was Harvey's \"hope\" speech, and like Topsy it just grew. Harvey was fond of talking about \"hope\" in many guises and how it was important that younger gays, confused about their orientation, should be given \"hope.\"\n\n\"You gotta give 'em hope.\"\n\nThe punch ending was that this kid in Altoona, Pennsylvania, had heard one of his speeches and called him. His parents would never understand him. Harvey was flattered by the call and told the boy that when he was of age, he should grab a bus and come out to California. There was silence for a moment and then the boy said quietly, \"I can't. I'm crippled.\" (This was a highly emotional scene in the movie.)\n\nHarvey polished the speech and used it often, though the rest of us kidded him because some days the boy lived in Altoona, other times in San Antonio or Buffalo. The boy really got around, we thought.\n\nHarvey didn't have a battery of professional speechwriters who could make him sound like a latter-day John F. Kennedy. The strength of his speeches lay in his visceral connection with his audience.\n\nIt would take time for \"gay power\" to emerge, and it would bring hardships, but it would also bring freedom. Anybody who belonged to a minority group in the audience would nod and agree with that.\n\nWe expect our leaders to be exactly like us, and then we're disappointed when they turn out to be mere mortals\u2014exactly like us. The attempt to impeach President Clinton failed because his audience instinctively understood that.\n\nThe police in Nazi Germany were brutal when it came to the Jews, because the Jews were undesirable anyway. Police brutality against homosexuals in the United States was tolerated because homosexuals were also undesirable. Right? That attitude spread like a cancer, and soon most of the country accepted it.\n\nWhen it comes to taxes, you pay your fair share\u2014but the insurance companies, the banks, the big corporations \"pay little or nothing.\" You pay yours, but you're also paying theirs. Harvey wrote that thirty-five years ago, but it sounds very familiar today.\n\nWhen it comes to our leaders, most of us instinctively recognize that \"no person is born to greatness, but many people rise to it.\" Who knows what that scruffy kid down the block playing touch football will become? Harvey's audience recognized that and gave the kid the benefit of the doubt. Someday they might be voting for him.\n\n\"Nixon's appointments to the Supreme Court will affect our lives to a greater degree than anything he can do as president.\"\n\nThat's true of any president, and Harvey's audience knew it. The struggle for one political group or another to control the court is still going on today\u2014the country swings left or right depending on the decisions of that court.\n\nHarvey was prescient. His audience realized that the problems he pointed out in his lifetime would also be the problems of the future. Two steps forward, one step back: the history of our country.\n\nHarvey was more than just a politician, more than a man running for political office.\n\nHe was an oracle and his audience identified with it. He spoke not only for today but also for tomorrow.\n\nSpeeches are important not only for the information they convey but for the insight they give into the people who delivered them. Hitler was brutal and sadistic, and it showed in his speeches. John F. Kennedy was altruistic; it came out in the man like sweat. Theodore Roosevelt\u2014the first Roosevelt\u2014was probably responsible for the expression \"the bully pulpit.\" America had a manifest destiny\u2014let's go get it!\n\nThe second Roosevelt, Franklin, was a healer. The country was bleeding when he took it, bound up its wounds, and bit by bit taught it to believe in itself again.\n\nAnd Harvey?\n\nRead his speeches and writings. He taught the gay community to respect itself; he taught it to believe in the power that it had and how to use it. A few of Harvey's campaigns and the local politicians knew that no anti-gay ordinance would ever be accepted by the city. The gays held veto power and they voted as a bloc.\n\nHarvey wore a coat of many colors. He laughed a lot; he could be very funny; he could deliver a speech like an African American preacher, using the repetition of words and phrases until the crowd was roaring.\n\nHe started the first Castro Street Fair and showed the rest of the town how to throw a party. When the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey circus came to town, he dressed as a clown and rode the cable cars to the delight of the tourists.\n\nHe never forgot those who had been less fortunate in life, and most of all, he showed his constituents how much he loved them. Some of us thought he loved campaigning more then he liked legislating.\n\nHe campaigned as a businessman, but in reality he was a terrible one. He wore hand-me-down suits, ground the beans for his coffee, and was an ace at a good spaghetti sauce. He was a man of the people\u2014especially poor people (being a supervisor paid $9,000 a year; he had a very vivid idea of what being poor was like).\n\nWhy did he do it? Is there a lesson to be learned from reading what Harvey had to say? Can you see the man behind the curtain? You should; he never made any attempt to hide himself.\n\nHarvey Milk was born into a world that didn't want him and left behind a world that discovered it would be difficult to do without him. Through his speeches and his courage he changed the lives of millions.\n\nAs teenagers, most gays used to haunt the library searching for mention of a gay man they could be proud of who in turn would make them proud of themselves. We desperately wanted to find a gay hero.\n\nI never realized I had found mine until the day that Harvey died.\nINTRODUCTION\n\nHarvey Milk's Political Archive and Archival Politics\n\nCHARLES E. MORRIS III AND JASON EDWARD BLACK\n\nIn the Images of America memory book San Francisco's Castro, there appears a photograph depicting three volunteers anchoring the Harvey Milk Archives (HMA) booth at the 1982 Castro Street Fair. Fittingly, the photograph was taken by Danny Nicoletta, Harvey Milk's prot\u00e9g\u00e9 and photographer, who, for four decades now, has provided invaluable views of GLBTQ (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer) life in San Francisco. For those who personally remember, or for those who, against the odds, have somehow learned some GLBTQ history, the photograph may be haunting, temporally and tragically poised as it is between the immediate past of Milk's 1978 assassination and the unfolding present and future of HIV\/AIDS in Ronald Reagan's New Right America. Even so, Milk's signature hope appears richly embodied in the photo's details\u2014his huge smile beaming from a displayed portrait; the \"Supervisor Harvey Milk\" posters; the stack of Randy Shilts's newly published biography, The Mayor of Castro Street; and volunteer Tommy Buxton's laugh, implying a joyous carnivalesque occasion, communion, reprieve\u2014suggesting that public memory powerfully affords comfort, community, and politics.\n\nLike those HMA volunteers on Castro Street, we hope in this book to deepen and circulate the public memory of Harvey Milk. During the 1970s, Milk passionately lived as an activist and visionary, community builder, and stalwart and savvy campaigner, one of the first openly gay political officials in the United States. And Harvey Milk died with his boots on, a martyr\u2014if not at the moment of his death, as some will quibble, then surely at the pronouncement of the unjust, undoubtedly homophobic verdict in his assassin's trial. Public memory is fraught, mutable, forceful, and consequential, and we believe it can be transformative in the lives of GLBTQ people\u2014and everyone. What Harvey Milk bequeaths in the pages that follow is An Archive of Hope.\n\nREMEMBERING HARVEY MILK\n\nIf you knew and loved Harvey, as so many in San Francisco still did, especially in those first years after his death, you likely took heart and pride in those enthusiastic efforts to kindle his legacy. Perhaps you donated money to the HMA that day in 1982 on Castro Street. Or perhaps you participated in one of the many Milk memorial events that occurred in San Francisco and elsewhere in recent years: traveling aboard the \"Gay Freedom Train\" en route to \"Avenge Harvey Milk!\" at the first National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights in October 1979; attending exhibits at the Gay Community Center and Castro Street Fair in 1979; watching photographer Crawford Barton's slide show at the Harvey Milk Gay Democratic Club (HMGDC) annual Milk dinner in May 1980; browsing archival materials that accompanied the newly rededicated Harvey Milk\/Eureka Valley Library in May 1981; reminiscing at the HMGDC Milk slide show and cocktail party in City Hall that same month; joining devoted throngs in the annual Milk\/Moscone Memorial March; standing in line at Randy Shilts's book signings in 1982; or celebrating at Harvey's annual birthday party on Castro Street\u2014a bounty of Milk memory!\n\nSo much commemoration in those early years of Milk's afterlives, in fact, that you might have thought Frank Robinson, Milk's speechwriter and campaign advisor (named as one of only four potential successors in Milk's political will), was unnecessarily concerned when he fretted in the inaugural 1983 issue of The Harvey Milk Archives Newsletter: \"I do not know what Harvey's fate would have been if the Harvey Milk Archives had not been established. I am not sure what historians would have done, how they might have edited his speeches, how they might have subtly reshaped the past, how they might have interpreted the man who was the man who might have been.\"\n\nRobinson's insightful words should not be misunderstood as sentimental hero worship or hagiography. Archival materials and their consignation matter, always and profoundly, for histories and memories to survive and thrive, especially for those histories and memories that malignant individuals and institutions would readily consign to oblivion, and for those people who struggle for many reasons against manifold constraints to preserve and promulgate the past. Certainly this is true for GLBTQ histories and memories. Heather Love has written,\n\n> The queer past has long served a crucial role in the making of queer community. . . . The desires that queers have invested in the past have transformed it. There are, as a result, many queer pasts: Some versions glitter with the collective fantasies of greatness; others have been rubbed smooth by constant handling; some are obscure, having been forgotten or put away; other versions of the past have been rendered ghostly through the weight of accreted longing; and some are covered by shadows, forgotten traces of ways of life that many would rather leave behind.\n\nThere are, we believe, many queer pasts in Harvey Milk, as varied and valuable, as vulnerable, as those pasts Love describes and Robinson cherishes. The Milk archive, in whatever forms it exists and may eventually take, should never be taken for granted.\n\nThe extensive, largely behind-the-scenes efforts during the 1980s and 1990s to amass and preserve Harvey Milk's words, images, and ephemera deserve greater visibility. Scott Smith, heir and executor of Milk's estate, who, during their years as lovers, business partners, campaigners, and confidants, had done more than perhaps any other to influence Milk's transformation into the activist he became, devoted himself to cultivating and protecting Milk's legacy. He had help, too, from longtime friends and loyal supporters such as Frank Robinson, Danny Nicoletta, Anne Kronenberg, Jim Gordon, Linda Alband, Terry Henderling, Jim Rivaldo, Dick Pabich, Harry Britt, Denton Smith, Wayne Friday, Walter Caplan, John Wahl, John Ryckman, Alan Baird, Rich Nichols, Tom Randol, and Bob Ross, among others. After Scott Smith died in February 1995, some of those friends and associates contributed, culled, sorted, and inventoried materials in preparation for donation by Elva Smith, Scott's mother, to the San Francisco Public Library (SFPL). Correspondence suggests that negotiations among Elva Smith; co-executor Frank Robinson and the Ad Hoc Milk Archives Committee; and Jim Van Buskirk, Director of the James C. Hormel Gay and Lesbian Center at the SFPL, did not always proceed smoothly. Robinson's Letter to the Editor of the San Francisco Bay Guardian in July 1995 offers a sense of these archival politics: \"Political regimes change, so do library personnel, and the intent of the ad hoc group is to make sure that the Archives will be protected for the use and benefit of future generations.\" Nevertheless, The Harvey Milk Archives-Scott Smith Collection was officially donated to the SFPL in 1995 and transferred to the library in 1997. It opened to the public in 2003.\n\nAlthough for us this volume has been an enriching venture in GLBTQ memory work, which we hope readers will share, we should emphasize from the beginning that what we exhibit and narrate here\u2014a substantial sample of transcribed documentary holdings representing Milk's typed, handwritten, recorded, and\/or published words\u2014constitutes but a fraction of Milk's public discourse. Many of Milk's speeches and writings have been lost because they were originally performed extemporaneously or published in outlets now remote; some of that corpus remains extant if as yet fully extracted in other archives and libraries, such as in microfilm series holdings of GLBTQ periodicals, objects, and documents housed at the GLBT Historical Society in San Francisco or the ONE Institute in Los Angeles, or materials in private collections. Despite Milk's presentiments of early death and his poignant foresight to tape-record a political will, he evidently was not much concerned with preserving or organizing his own archive for posterity; the state of his effects and affairs might fairly be described as chronically disheveled, a casualty of a devotedly engaged public life. We have decided to predominantly feature, with just a handful of exceptions, documentary texts of Milk's public political rhetoric derived from the Harvey Milk Archives-Scott Smith Collection at SFPL because of the concentration and diversity, history, and symbolism of this archival cache. However, we have been keenly aware from the start of this project, and cumulatively so throughout its production, that the Milk materials at the SFPL, invaluable for what they do contribute to Milk and GLBTQ history and memory, are nevertheless incomplete and should and undoubtedly will be beneficially complemented and supplemented in the future.\n\nIt is also the case, as these selected documents evidence, that the traces of Harvey Milk's actual public discourse\u2014scribbled or typed, scratched out, stump recycled, always in motion\u2014bear the marks of having been lived rather than packaged. Milk's words are sometimes fragmentary, typically unpolished, and occasionally banal. At the same time, they always crackle with his energetic engagement. We might usefully think of these addresses, columns, statements, press releases, fliers, and open letters as quotidian translations from a single emergently public life; a locally situated if nationally aspirant gay street activist, consummate politician, and municipal official; a gay, white, Jewish, able-bodied, financially strapped but middle-class man. These words are embedded in complex, multitudinous, and intersectional contexts that enabled or thwarted Harvey Milk's presence, resonance, meaning, and influence in the 1970s, in the United States, in California, in San Francisco, in District 5, and in the Castro. We view such incomplete, tantalizing traces and echoes of distant times and larger stories, both inspirational and workaday texts, as rich enactments of Milk memory. As importantly, they constitute invitations to conversation, debate, reflection, teaching, learning, collaboration, community building, inter-generational relationships, and coalitional and oppositional politics\u2014\"how publics are formed in and through cultural archives\"\u2014that inspire performative repertoires of GLBTQ pasts that will be queerly reconfigured as the future unpredictably unfolds.\n\nWe also have usefully come to realize that some fairly will ask, \"Why Harvey Milk?\" Not everyone, then or now, considers Milk a pioneer, an icon, as he himself did, remarking to the Associated Press about his election in November, 1977: \"I can really appreciate what Jackie Robinson was up against. . . . Every black youth in the country was looking up to him. . . . He was a symbol to all of them. In the same way, I am a symbol of hope to gays and all minorities.\" Immodesty aside, Milk's claim on the GLBTQ pantheon might be rebuffed, or at least cause some bristling, despite his progressive populism and multi-issue advocacy, electoral success, visibility, assassination. As some have argued, Milk was, after all, a local politician who served less than a year in municipal office, and we will never know what he might have accomplished politically had he lived. Many in San Francisco thought him an arriviste. Drummer editor Jack Fritscher remembered that Milk was not well liked by many because he was \"a political carpetbagger, because he was Manhattanizing laid-back San Francisco. He wasn't particularly cool. He was a New Yorker telling 'The City That Knows How' what to do in his 'Milk Forum' column in the Bay Area Reporter.\" Many inside and outside of San Francisco, such as Minnesota activist Stephen Endean, who would go on to direct the Gay Rights National Lobby and founded the Human Rights Campaign Fund, despised \"Milk's manner\u2014his ego, his abrasiveness, his insistence on doing things his way\u2014[which] ground on Endean's Midwestern sensibilities, and also probably on his insecurities.\"\n\nThere are also perspectives that help us account for Milk's legacy in relation to broader cultural and political contexts. Fritscher offers gay immigration, single-issue voting, and assassination as crucial factors: \"He was elected because he was gay, not because he was 'Harvey Milk.' . . . Beyond even Harvey's control, he was swept up in a symbolic role in ritual politics. The convergence of his times, not his life, propelled him. His latter-day sainthood came through a martyrdom that could have happened to anyone playing the role of gay supervisor. It was his bad fortune that 'Tonight the role of gay supervisor will be played by Harvey Milk.'\" Historian Jonathan Bell more generally links historical visibility with place and contingent circumstance, observing that San Francisco's attention is chiefly attributable to \"the flamboyance and media-consciousness of its politicians and its importance as a microcosm of the social movements that have come to form the bedrock of the rights revolution of recent times.\" From these vantages, Milk's posthumous renown should be understood as a complex production of his accomplishments, the where and when of his public life, the volume of his persona, and his dramatic demise.\n\nThese challenges and contextualizations are important and should shape any engagement with Milk's memory. We believe that they usefully complicate, but do not disqualify, a claim of Harvey Milk's significance, the value of his assembled words. Arguably, what materially matters most in GLBTQ worldmaking, then and now, occurs locally, whatever broader sweep and circulation a figure or place or event might foment or by happenstance occasion in the aftermath of activism. Most courageous GLBTQ activists since the first stirrings of political consciousness, during the arduous history of transformative acts and soundings, made a difference in particular spaces and sites, communities and forums, even as news of what they did\u2014or they themselves\u2014may have traveled. Milk remarked in 1978, \"History is made by events . . . sometimes by large events with the world watching, but mostly by small events which plant the seeds of change. A reading of the Declaration of Independence on the steps of a building is widely covered. The events that started the American Revolution were the meetings in homes, pubs, on street corners.\" Milk's successor on the Board of Supervisors, Harry Britt, came to a similar conclusion about his political fecundity:\n\n> History will betray his own sense of who he was if we only remember him as a charismatic genius, a tragic figure wearing the face of a clown, a bigger-than-life model for gay pride. He was all that, of course, but the specialness of Harvey Milk was to be understood in terms of the specialness of San Francisco in the '70s and of the people whose hopes and dreams he was to take upon himself. . . . He could not have been what he was in an earlier period, or in another place. Most specifically, Harvey was a leader whose destiny was the destiny of Castro's Street People, a motley gang of alienated refugees from the struggle to assimilate to the homophobic mainstream of American life.\n\nThus a world of difference might be found in those local queer details called Milk, sine qua non inestimable.\n\nHarvey Milk's words, too, teach us that successful activists speak locally, that the art of activist eloquence should be measured by the singularity of each ordinary persuasive opportunity, quotidian audience, or fleeting performance. Milk's purple passages and stump clich\u00e9s teach us that hope's discourse, at close hearing by real people, is by turns and toil both sublime and hackneyed in situ. And with each of those hit-or-miss moments of rhetorical invention and embodiment, with each handshake, with each overbearing exchange, shameless self-promotion, flirtation, corny joke, and lump-in-the-throat moment when he was on a roll, Milk brought the GLBTQ folk of San Francisco that much closer to sexual justice and freedom, to gay rights. Milk campaign staffer Jim Rivaldo remembered, \"I accompanied Harvey around the city and saw how readily people from all walks of life responded to an openly gay man with good ideas and an extraordinary gift for communicating them.\"\n\nOf course Britt's reminiscence\u2014and he is not alone in this\u2014elevates Milk onto a larger stage. Such hyperbole should not surprise or trouble us, as it is the currency and glue of public memory and social movements, both always replete with the propulsive lore of gods and devils. Additionally, close associates of those inscribed into history and memory are often prone to flattering exaggeration. While wanting to avoid the distancing and distortion that comes with hagiography, we nevertheless believe Milk earned his inscription and our attention in GLBTQ history and memory by his contributions to gay rights writ large. Like GLBTQ activism itself during the 1970s, Milk was increasingly emerging on a national stage, with expanding influence. During the spectacular historic fluctuations of GLBTQ fortunes during 1977, Milk proved himself a movement leader and subject of national press coverage. Rodger Streitmatter, in spirit if not letter, conveys Milk's growing reputation and influence: \"If San Francisco was the capital of Gay America, Harvey Milk was president.\"\n\nIn a 1978 interview, Boze Hadleigh asked Milk, \"As the most visible gay politician, aren't you going to be in demand as a national spokesperson?\" His response: \"That's starting already. A few groups have asked . . . but I'm so busy as it is, there's no time.\" Nevertheless, during those few last months alive and working, Milk, along with tireless and talented activists Sally Miller Gearhart, Gwen Craig, Bill Kraus and so many others, led the successful statewide campaign to defeat Prop 6, called the \"Briggs Amendment\" after its sponsor, state assemblyman John Briggs, which would ban gay teachers from the California school system. Clendinen and Nagourney explain, \"The decisive defeat of the Briggs initiative on November 7 [1978] was the greatest electoral victory the gay rights movement in the United States had known. It conferred a particular aura of historical celebrity on Harvey Milk, and at the victory party in San Francisco that night, he called for a gay march on Washington in 1979.\" Assassinated 20 days later, Milk's place in the 1979 March for Lesbian and Gay Rights would be memorial, and thereafter sorting out and celebrating the historical contributions of the sanctified leader would be inevitably enhanced and muddled by the tropes of remembered martyrdom. The Chicago Tribune reported on November 30, 1978: \"Milk, the leading avowed homosexual politician in California and perhaps the nation, will be especially missed. . . . 'Harvey Milk's assassination is a terrible blow to the gay-rights movement in this country,' said Robert McQueen, editor of The Advocate, San Francisco's leading gay newspaper. . . . [S]aid Harry Britt, one of Milk's closest friends and aides, 'Harvey Milk was the Martin Luther King of this nation's gay-liberation movement.'\"\n\nPerhaps Ed Jackson was most insightful in capturing Milk's hold on the historical imagination when, in his 1984 review of Rob Epstein's documentary, he wrote, \"The Times of Harvey Milk works powerfully on the viewer because of the Camelot-like resonances it sets off. On one level the story of one man's political career, it is also a morality tale about the dream of justice and the American faith in electoral politics. It traces the evolution of a populist hero who came to embody the hopes of an entire community, a hero tragically cut down in the prime of his political life.\" Whatever the measure, on the street or on the pedestal, we believe Harvey Milk is historically significant, worthy of archiving and anthologizing, deserving of memory, and most importantly, accessible and relevant for cultural and political purposes in which he can prove invigorating and troubling still, and perhaps lifesaving.\n\nHARVEY MILK: A BRIEF POLITICAL GENEALOGY\n\nGiven that Harvey Milk's public life did not begin until he was in his forties, and once begun lasted less than a decade\u2014only ten months, eighteen days in office\u2014it is a wonder that we should be bequeathed this archive. Indeed, it is a wonder such a public life began at all. Milk was not what most would consider destined for activism and politics. For most of his adult life Milk lived a quietly privileged domestic existence, passionately and monogamously devoted to his \"marriages,\" his home, the opera, and other arts in New York. Though in retrospect some might consider him closeted, which is not quite the case, it is fair to say that Milk's private life was compartmentalized. His professional choices\u2014in the Navy, as a schoolteacher, and for years in the financial world\u2014reflected and no doubt solidified this conservatism. To the extent that he was political at all, as chroniclers like to recall, Milk had proven himself to be a Goldwater Republican. One can imagine those who knew Milk during most of life, those unaware of his sexuality but also his former lover Joe Campbell, doing a double take as he began making headlines in, of all places, San Francisco.\n\nMilk had made one other dramatic transformation prior to emerging as the \"Mayor of Castro Street,\" and this may make it difficult to fathom Milk as the formidable politician he would become. Owing to the times, a young lover named Jack McKinley, and an experimental theater visionary named Tom O'Horgan (Hair, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Lenny), Milk had become a hippie. As Randy Shilts described it, \"Milk found himself surrounded by some of the most outrageous flower children on the continent. Harvey started assimilating the new countercultural values, which spurned materialism, eschewed conformity, and mocked orthodoxy. With each month, Milk's hair became a little longer. With each political argument, his views became more flexible. With each new apartment, he discarded more of the tasteful furniture, stylish d\u00e9cor, and middle-class comforts he had cherished.\" While briefly living in San Francisco in 1970, this Wall Street suit memorably burned his BankAmericard in response to the U.S. invasion of Cambodia. Two years later, with a new boyfriend named Scott Smith, Milk returned to California, flowers in his hair, roaming the state until finally settling for good in 1973 into a transitional neighborhood known by locals as Most Holy Redeemer Parish\u2014what would become known as Castro Village and then, as now, the Castro.\n\nSomething queer was happening in San Francisco; indeed, it had been going on for quite some time. Always a haven for outsiders, San Francisco since World War II had become home to a sizeable population of GLBTQ people. Though more familiar for its 1970s blossoming, and overshadowed by mythic Stonewall, San Francisco should be remembered well for its much longer history of GLBTQ lives, cultures, and politics. In the 1950s Hal Call formed a chapter of the Mattachine Society, and Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon founded the Daughters of Bilitis, making the city a stronghold of homophile outreach. Jose Sarria, a drag institution at The Black Cat, who had tirelessly and resiliently stood up for his harassed, arrested, and beaten brothers, ran for Board of Supervisors in 1961, amassing 7,000 votes more than a decade before Milk's audacious first political campaign. Sarria's voice sounded the clarion call of a developing movement comprised of the organizations formed during that decade, including the League for Civil Education, Tavern Guild, Society for Individual Rights, and the Council on Religion and the Homosexual (CRH). The protest press conference held by the CRH in response to shameful police disruption of the New Year's Day Ball in 1965, as well as the trans people and other queers who resisted police brutality at Compton's Cafeteria in August 1966, stand alongside Stonewall as transformative events in the burgeoning national movement for GLBTQ liberation, rights, and pride. California establishment politicians were already responding to these grassroots activists in the nascent politics for sexual justice before the New York \"birth\" of liberation on Christopher Street in 1969.\n\nWhat GLBTQ San Francisco had been through the 1960s, though significant, would not have necessarily led one to predict the massive influx of immigrants and the expansion of cultures and politics in the subsequent decade. John D'Emilio observes, \"By the mid-1970s San Francisco had become, compared to the rest of the country, a liberated zone for lesbians and gay men.\" Such growth was enabled by changing economic and demographic landscape of the city. San Francisco's transformation from a manufacturing center into a metropolis of corporate headquarters, tourism, and conventions, depleted the population's blue-collar, straight families in the many ethnic neighborhoods; consequently, it also enticed young professionals who found inexpensive housing in places like the Castro. Development politics were fraught, and tensions flared throughout the 1970s and beyond, inside and outside GLBTQ communities. With San Francisco's development, however, accompanied by a growing reputation for sexual freedom, a GLBTQ homeland blossomed. D'Emilio explains that communities rapidly grew in a number of neighborhoods\u2014Castro, Polk Street, Tenderloin, South of Market, Folsom Street, Upper Mission and Bernal Heights\u2014constituting a \"new social phenomenon, residential areas that were visibly gay in composition.\"\n\nWith such visibility came more immigrants, social and sexual networks and spaces, communications, businesses, civic groups, political organizations, movement mobilization and action, public festivals, and celebrations. Reporting on the \"economic boom\" and \"political clout\" of GLBTQ San Francisco during the 1970s, the Washington Post concluded that it was the \"most open of any [homosexual community] in the nation.\" Frances FitzGerald described the Castro as the \"imminent realization\" of gay liberation, \"the first gay settlement, the first true gay 'community,' and as such it was a laboratory for the movement. It served as a refuge for gay men, and a place where they could remake their lives; now it was to become a model for the new society\u2014'a gay Israel,' as someone once put it.\" Danny Nicoletta's recollection is equally effusive: \"Into the Seventies, people arrived in San Francisco from all over the world with hopes of creating a life characterized by the consciousness attributed to the Sixties communal, holistic, non-violent, mystical, theatrical, and avant-garde. A facet of this idealism for myself and many others was that we were people who were gay searching for a place to be open and honest about this part of our lives\u2014a place without fear of the hatred and persecution which had kept us in closets for so long.\"\n\nWith such concentration, circulation, capital, and confidence, GLBTQ people also developed politically. The San Francisco Chronicle reported on its front page in 1971, \"San Francisco's populous homosexual community, historically nonpolitical and inward looking, is in the midst of assembling a potentially powerful political machine.\" With the first gay rights marches, creation of the Alice B. Toklas Memorial Democratic Club, Jim Foster's path-breaking speech at the Democratic National Convention in 1972, and thriving lesbian-feminist communities, one might readily have believed the Chronicle's hyperbole, which became all the more manifest as the decade unfolded. Jonathan Bell's incisive analysis demonstrates that a broader confluence of contextual elements in California politics dating back more than a decade enabled such queer auspiciousness. From Bell's perspective, left liberalism guided a generation of influential and ascending politicians who fused economic and civil rights in a progressive vision of inclusion; politicians who were influenced by and collaborated with grassroots activists and who helped create the conditions under which such disenfranchised groups could make gains through electoral politics. This is not to say that Willie Brown, George Moscone, Phil Burton, Dianne Feinstein, Richard Hongisto, and other key political players of the era were unfettered champions of or exclusively responsible for gay rights, as Harvey Milk's critiques of superficial campaign courtship and battles with \"the Machine\" would later demonstrate. However, this analysis does help explain the conditions of possibility, \"the distinctive contours of political life in San Francisco in the 1970s,\" within and through which Milk could emerge, mature, and ultimately succeed as a gay rights and community activist with a populist vision articulated through the discourses of economic justice, individual rights, political power, solidarity, and coalition.\n\nBut of course it was not only because San Francisco existed as the \"political base\" and \"spiritual home of California liberalism\" that GLBTQ people flourished. The intensifying, intensely satisfying, and interanimating dimensions of cultures and politics forged identification and identity, cultivated emotional bonds, deepened communities, fomented movement, and resulted in the sexual embodiment of freedom. Especially for gay men, such freedom was made all the more available and fluid by proliferating and booming bars, bathhouses, and clubs. With such growth came inevitable tensions, and there have been critiques, for example, of the gay male sexual culture. However, sociologist Elizabeth Armstrong argues persuasively that those committed to gay rights (interest group politics and legal protections), gay pride (cultural identity and visibility), and sexual pleasure (its enactment and commercialization) created a synergistic movement of \"unity through diversity.\" Armstrong observes, \"The political logic of identity made it possible to reconcile pride, rights, and sexual expression,\" despite differences among and the uniqueness of individuals, that solidified in economic power, political influence, and a sense of the collective instantiated through pleasure.\n\nSignificant, too, is the still broader context of national culture and politics, as well as the larger gay rights movement. Bruce Schulman writes in The Seventies, \"[T]he emphasis on diversity, on cultural autonomy and difference, echoed throughout 1970s America. White ethnics picked it up, as did feminists and gay rights advocates and even the elderly. A new conception of the public arena emerged.\" Contrary to narratives about cultural reversals and moribund activism, Dominic Sandbrook argues, \"For all the efforts of the religious right and for all the talk of backlash against the legacy of the sixties, the fact remains that in moral and cultural terms, American society became steadily more permissive. More marriages broke up, more pregnancies were terminated, more children were born out of wedlock, and more gays and lesbians came out. In this respect at least, liberalism not only survived the 1970s but emerged triumphant.\" Moreover, GLBTQ activism in particular should be understood as not only a legacy of the \"long sixties\" but as a distinctive influence on U.S. culture. Schulman goes so far as to conclude, \"The gay rights movement transformed Americans' understanding of homosexuality, and of masculinity in general\" elsewhere he wrote, \"Looking back . . . it is clear that the grassroots struggles for racial justice and sexual equality have exerted a more thoroughgoing impact than the liberal political economy of the Great Society.\"\n\nSuch superlative assessments are warranted by hard-earned achievements of GLBTQ people and organizations, and the widening visibility that came with them. The often-cited Time cover story, \"Gays on the March,\" from September 1975, remarked on the transformation:\n\n> There are now more than 800 gay groups in the U.S., most of them pressing for state or local reforms. The Advocate, a largely political biweekly tabloid for gays, has a nationwide circulation of 60,000, and the National Gay Task Force has a membership of 2,200. . . . Since homosexuals began to organize for political action six years ago, they have achieved a substantial number of victories. Eleven state legislatures have followed Illinois in repealing their anti-sodomy laws. The American Psychiatric Association has stopped listing homosexuality as a psychiatric disorder, and AT&T, several other big corporations and the Civil Service Commission have announced their willingness to hire openly avowed gays.\n\nLittle wonder, then, that even as the movement shifted from the brief revolution of gay liberation to the mainstay of gay rights reform (growing in numbers while contracting its agenda to single-issue politics), a heady mood of historic transformation pervaded. Like other GLBTQ people, John D'Emilio, himself both chronicler and activist, rode high on the collective effervescence: \"The goals of activists had narrowed, yet activists in the mid-1970s almost uniformly displayed an \u00e9lan that made them feel as if they were mounting the barricades. Activists increasingly engaged in routinized and mundane organizational tasks, yet they believed they were remaking the world.\"\n\nHarvey Milk emerged from within these layered political and cultural contexts, reflecting them but also, improbably, harnessing their energies and promises into a unique activist vision that would help define the rest of decade, locally and nationally, as an epoch in GLBTQ history. Of course, Milk did not commence his political career as the leader he would become. He began it quite sparsely and unremarkably in the spring of 1973 in his newly opened Castro Camera at 575 Castro Street. The always threadbare business, which kept Milk in the financial straits to which he had not been accustomed during his earlier life, seems destined to the storied political front and headquarters it became. The real work of Castro Camera and its regulars focused not on rolls of film but on people, their freedoms, struggles, and neighborhoods in San Francisco.\n\nAlthough Milk's deeper political inclinations may be attributable, by his own accounting, to the 1943 Jewish uprising in the Warsaw ghetto and his 1947 arrest as a teenager in Central Park for \"indecent exposure,\" Milk often identified three moral shocks in 1973 as effecting his awakening and sparking his first campaign for Board of Supervisors, the eleven-member body representing San Francisco's consolidated city-county government. First, shortly after Castro Camera opened, Milk had a heated altercation with a local bureaucrat who demanded a $100 deposit against sales tax in order for the business to operate, which seemed to him an outrageous violation of free enterprise and symptom of class inequity. Second, Milk blanched at the disparity between haves and have-nots in this \"developing\" city, disparity which appeared proximately in the form of a young teacher from a resource-strapped school asking if she could borrow a slide projector to teach her lessons. Finally, Milk had a visceral response to Attorney General John Mitchell's mendacious and evasive testimony during the Watergate Hearings, which he watched animatedly on a portable TV in the shop. Shortly thereafter, standing on a crate inscribed with the word \"soap,\" Milk launched his first candidacy.\n\nA more auspicious political debut, short of winning, is hard to imagine. Perhaps especially so given the long odds Harvey Milk faced as an unknown newcomer, both to the city and to politics, with the wrong look and surprisingly fierce opposition. For starters, there was that ponytail few could ignore, the signature symbol of his troubling hippie persona. Milk was also openly and unabashedly gay, which, needless to say, for an at-large candidate in a citywide election battling five incumbents, made for a political liability. We should recall and underscore how few GLBTQ candidates preceded Milk on any ballot in the United States, so few in fact, and with decidedly less candor and bravado, that it is not surprising (mythmaking notwithstanding) that he is often mistakenly celebrated as the first.\n\nWhat may come as a surprise, however, is that Milk's gay problem mostly concerned GLBTQ people themselves, or as Brett Callis observes, \"His candidacy was itself a major issue for gays in 1973.\" There was much passionate dispute in the GLBTQ press, social spaces, and political meetings, about how GLBTQ politics should proceed into or against the mainstream. Should the approach be accommodationist or radical? Should GLBTQ people enter politics to gain power or rely on the stewardship and largesse of straight allies? Should candidates make sexuality their defining marker, or should their ideology and platform take primacy over the fact that they happen to be gay? What might public engagement mean in relation to a politics of respectability? Should candidates be single-issue focused on gay rights or be committed to a broad set of issues?\n\nFrom the beginning of his campaign, Milk was adversely targeted by the gay political establishment\u2014the Society for Individual Rights (SIR) and the Toklas Club\u2014whose key players and gatekeepers, by and large, had their own scars and believed in an accommodationist and gradualist approach to gay rights, gained through loyal support of elected straight liberal allies, what Milk derisively would later call the \"gay groupie syndrome.\" Michael Wong, a young, heterosexual, Chinese American who, in launching his own political career, courted counsel and support of prominent members of the Toklas Club, captured well in his diary this attempted fratricide by powerful members of the gay establishment:\n\n> Gary Miller told me that Harvey Milk was \"dangerous and uncontrollable.\" Duke Smith said that Harvey Milk was \"high on something.\" Rick Stokes told me that Milk \"had no support in [the] Gay Community . . . he's running all on his own.\" Jo Daly told me, \"Maybe if we just ignore him, he'll go away.\" Jim Foster said that \"it would be disastrous for the gay community if Harvey Milk ever received credibility.\" I couldn't have agreed with them more.\n\nHeeding such advice, Wong helped to block endorsements for Milk with San Francisco Young Democrats and San Francisco Tomorrow. Foster in particular, perhaps the most visible and influential gay establishment politician in San Francisco, openly opposed Milk until the bitter end, even after Milk had won over the Bay Area Reporter, SIR leader and Vector editor William Beardemphl, other publications, and a critical mass of GLBTQ voters.\n\nThe intensity of the vitriol by Milk's political enemies within the GLBTQ community suggests that they saw in him something more than an upstart of questionable motives and dubious emotional stability. Wong wrote privately what insiders would not admit: \"No candidate came close to his dynamic delivery. . . . He stole the show. . . . [Everywhere he spoke, people were drawn to him. He was not slick and people related to him. He was causing the Toklas Club great concerns.\" Moreover, Shilts astutely observed, \"The disparity between Milk's image and his reality stemmed from the essential act with which he defined himself\u2014rebellion. The campaign biography that emerged from his early media interviews reads like the blueprint for a maverick.\"\n\nAnd a queer, barnstorming, populist maverick he was. Milk's broad platform focused on a wide range of issues that prioritized San Francisco residents over the city's corporate and Chamber of Commerce interests. As the selected documents from 1973 reveal, Milk envisioned San Francisco as a city that would take its place among other great metropolises not for its bankbook or universities but for its populace, \"a city that breathes, one that is alive and where the people are more important than the highways.\" Instead of downtown development and growth of the tourism industry, for Milk San Francisco's future depended on reducing wasteful and unfair governmental spending and taxation, promoting childcare centers and dental care for the elderly, eliminating poverty and addressing the unemployment rate by teaching skills and providing economic opportunities. Instead of fringe benefits for MUNI (San Francisco Municipal Railway) drivers, Milk advocated better service for MUNI riders, which would be achieved in part by mandating that city officials ride MUNI to work, and preventing congestion by reducing downtown parking garages. Instead of police harassment and arrests for marijuana possession, prostitution, and gay public sex, what he called \"legislating morality\" against \"victimless crimes,\" Milk demanded improved police protection against rape, murder, and mugging, which would be achieved if policemen actually lived in the city they patrolled, and patrolled in greater numbers. As he argued in his September 1973 address to the Joint International Longshoremen & Warehousemen's Union and Lafayette Club, \"It takes no compromising to give the people their rights . . . it takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no political deal to give people freedom. It takes no survey to remove repression.\" From promoting street arts and community art centers, to advocating for beer drivers' Local 888, to the district elections (Proposition K) he championed, Milk imagined the end of disenfranchisement and discrimination, better quality of life, and resurgence of democracy for all.\n\nThat Milk had indeed made a statement during the campaign is evidenced by the nearly 17,000 votes he garnered, finishing tenth in a field of thirty-two candidates. More heartening still, Milk realized that had there been district elections, voters in San Francisco's GLBTQ neighborhoods, despite the Toklas Club's opposition, would have delivered him to City Hall. SIR official and Vector editor William Beardemphl presciently observed in his Bay Area Reporter \"Comments\" column that, \"Above and beyond his race for Supervisor, Harvey Milk IS opening the door to government a little wider so that all homosexuals of ability can enter politics without a destructive homosexual stigmata imposed on them.\" Milk appears to have been emboldened by the experience and results, for he almost immediately cast his sights on the 1975 campaign and during the interim would become an even more dedicated and visible community and gay rights activist. During this period, Milk's political vision solidified and public voice amplified more prominently as he launched biweekly columns for the Sentinel (\"Waves from the Left,\" February to September 1974) and Bay Area Reporter (\"Milk Forum,\" May 1974 until the week of his death, November 1978) and regularly took to the streets in protest against homophobic discrimination, harassment, and violence, or in celebration of and communion with his GLBTQ neighbors, friends, and allies.\n\nDuring 1974 and 1975, Milk continued his broad-based populism, but he also unmistakably sought to mobilize his own community toward seizing and consolidating its power through strength in numbers, solidarity, votes, and economic influence. In his effort at consciousness raising, Milk implored GLBTQ people that \"the only important issue for homosexuals is Freedom. All else is meaningless. . . . Many people think that they are FREE because they have a lot of money and live in 'good' neighborhoods. But the homosexual is not free until there are NO laws on ANY books suppressing him and not until he, if he so wishes, can join the police force or any government agency as an open homosexual. It is as simple as that.\" In his Vector editorial, among the selected documents, Milk invoked Martin Luther King, Jr., and memories of the Montgomery bus boycott to punctuate his call for \"full citizenship\" and struggle against homophobia: \"the homosexual community is the last minority group that has received no civil rights. . . . In order for homosexuals to win our right to self-respect and equality, we must first assert our full existence and then its strength.\"\n\nOnce awakened, according to Milk's political calculus, GLBTQ people must act collectively to concentrate and strategically wield their power, which he theorized in economic, political, and communal terms. Milk's \"Waves from the Left\" column in the Sentinel on \"Political Power,\" included in this volume, emphasized that change only comes through the exercise of material influence. That power begins with registering to vote, which is why Milk appropriated diverse occasions for that purpose and enlisted as many volunteers as he could muster (always recruiting) to help with drives (2,000 new voters for the 1974 gubernatorial election and many more for his own campaign in 1975). For those registered, Milk urged that political power works best in withholding votes until a sense of urgency among \"friendly\" candidates leverages sturdier pledges rather than automatically or prematurely offering votes for the price of a trivial campaign courting appearance. Milk lashed out at his gay establishment nemeses for being what he called, in the selected editorial of the same name, \"Aunt Marys,\" the equivalent of Uncle Toms, who sold out by toadying to straight liberal politicians who forgot their GLBTQ constituents once elected. Then GLBTQ voters should cast their ballots as a bloc, the sheer size of which would likely determine the outcomes of elections, making the community's presence unmistakable and influence palpable and in turn, quid pro quo, desirable capital. During 1974, Milk also began his practice of publishing endorsements, and disqualifications, with detailed political analysis specific to communal interests. Milk declared, \"Every person in this state owes it not only to himself, but for all gay people who will follow us years from now[,] to vote for freedom.\"\n\nSecond, Milk insisted, \"Economic power is stronger than any other form of power. . . . There is tremendous amount of economic power and strength in the San Francisco gay community. It has never been effectively brought together. It looks as if it will now happen.\" Milk's optimism stemmed from those existing and emerging associations\u2014Gay Chamber of Commerce, Gay Community Guild, Tavern Guild, and Golden Gate Business Association\u2014he supported, and the Castro Village Association he founded, which welcomed 5,000 for its first Castro Street Fair in August 1974 (25,000 in 1975, 100,000 in 1976).\n\nThird, Milk advocated the power of solidarity and coalition. He argued that GLBTQ people and politicians must eradicate endemic jealously and infighting; otherwise, such divisions amounted to complicity in their own oppression. In the Bay Area Reporter, Milk averred, \"The day we can pick up a gay paper and not find any attacks on other gays, the movement will start to unite. It can never have full power as long as one person, for whatever reasons, attacks others in the movement . . . to go after another gay person for their doing their trip in the movement, is to attack the entire movement.\" He convened a task force to explore paths to unification. Milk also urged the support of the Teamsters in the Coors Boycott as well as other unions, reasoning, \"If we in the gay community want others to help us in our fight to end discrimination, we must help others in their fights.\" About the neighborhood baseball challenge between the \"gay all stars\" and \"champs of the local Twilight League,\" Milk effused, \"Just the playing of the game did more to bring relations between the community than any other event, act, speech, law. . . . That game was a victory for better relationships between the straight youths and the gays.\"\n\nBeyond this communal power vision, Milk also became bolder in his confrontation with individuals and institutions harming GLBTQ people and other San Franciscans. Milk lambasted the city government for giving taxpaying members of the Gay Freedom Day Committee the \"run-a-round\" regarding permits and parade routes (but not other similar groups), and in his Open Letter included in the volume, chided the San Francisco Chronicle for sensationalizing gay pride without sensitivity to the plight of GLBTQ people. He openly opposed political candidates like John Foran and Dianne Feinstein for their absent or phony solidarity, and ridiculed the Board of Supervisors for its failures, hypocrisy, and fawning compliance with downtown interests. \"The time has come,\" he insisted, \"Either the Board and the city agencies give to the gay community what any other group can get or don't come around courting our votes.\" He unremittingly indicted police brutality and harassment, which he likened to Nazi oppression of the Jews, exemplified in his published and street protests of the Labor Day beatings at Toad Hall bar and subsequent jailing of the \"Castro 14.\" In the face of such homophobic discrimination and violence, and bringing together all the elements of his platform, Milk called for economic and political mobilization.\n\nDuring the first campaign in 1973, Milk began telling reporters that some were calling him the \"unofficial mayor of Castro Street,\" a clever moniker. His words and actions during 1974\u20131975 suggest that he may have perceived himself, and perhaps was beginning to be perceived by friends and enemies alike, as the unofficial, emergent leader of a (new) GLBTQ power movement. Milk reflected in a New York Times interview, \"I'm a left-winger, a street person. . . . Most gays are politically conservative, you know, banks, insurance, bureaucrats. So their checkbooks are out of the closet, but they're not. So you try to get something going, and all the gay money is still supporting Republicans except on this gayness thing, so I say, 'Gay for Gay.' That's my issue. That's it. That's the big one.\" It is worth noting that Milk's candidacy operated within a state and local political culture that connected economic justice, rights discourse, and identity politics. Bell explains, \"From the perspective of liberal politicians experimenting with a reconfiguration of the relationship between the individual and society it was inevitable that discussions of social marginalization in the 1950s and beyond would allow a widening of the left-of-center political lexicon that could be responsive to homophile activism. One of Harvey Milk's early successes as a leading gay activist in the Castro in 1973 was to help the Teamsters extend a boycott of Coors beer into the gay bars, linking gay rights to economic issues.\"\n\nHowever, Milk suggests in his Sentinel column \"Where I Stand,\" among the selected documents, that any exclusive political categorization is a foolhardy venture, doomed to being inaccurate or incomplete. Note, for instance, pollster Mervin Field's analysis in Time, in which he commented on the two tides of the 1975 election: \"One is the ebbing tide of traditional liberal, labor and cultural concepts\u2014the idea that government can do it for you. Against this is the rising tide of the 'new conservatism'\u2014which is related to fear about crime, the inability to get services from government, and fiscal responsibility.\" The Harvey Milk of his second campaign, perhaps paradoxically, passionately espoused positions consonant with both tides Field identified. The ponytail shorn, replaced by a second-hand, two-piece suit, Milk's hippie persona yielded to a clean-shaven one no less down to earth and outspoken but with broader visual and thus political appeal. Shilts reported that, \"Milk's appearance and demeanor became so devastatingly average that he sometimes had to fend off allegations that he was actually heterosexual. 'If I were . . . there sure would be a lot of surprised men walking around San Francisco.'\"\n\nAlthough Milk's second campaign has received comparatively scant attention, its significance should be understood in relation to the political traction he was gaining, the progressive muckraking he was advocating, and the gay rights agenda his visibility was advancing. The Bay Area Reporter's preview of Milk's campaign reveals the extent to which his vision had retained a balance and connectedness between GLBTQ concerns and those of all San Franciscans: \"Milk's four-point program calls for a 'Fair Share' tax for those who work in The City but don't live here, for taxis and buses to be equipped so they can report crimes-in-progress directly to Police headquarters, for the Fire Department to be supplied with the most modern equipment available, and for 'the Board's present sense of priorities to be reoriented to the people and not to downtown interests.'\" Indeed, his \"Milk Forum\" columns throughout 1975 not only reiterated the GLBTQ power blueprint he had been articulating but addressed a broad range of local issues, including national and city economic conditions, MUNI deficiencies, Yerba Buena development, property tax assessments and housing, bail bondsmen, the Coors boycott (again), and the police strike.\n\nOf course, his gay rights advocacy continued apace during the 1975 campaign. In his \"Milk Forum\" columns, he railed against City Hall for not providing funds for the Gay Freedom Day Committee while doing so for others, and decried the lack of media coverage of an event with more than 80,000 participants and spectators; he reminded his readers of the value of holding their vote pledges so as to get the most from their political \"friends\" he urged a continuation of the GLBTQ Coors boycott even after the national Teamsters eliminated the local chapter's effort; he called for lobbying in support of AB489 and AB633, the consenting sex and fair employment legislation pending in the California Assembly.\n\nSignificant, too, about the 1975 election is that candidates, especially for the mayoralty, courted votes and endorsements from the GLBTQ community as never before. Perhaps because of Milk's trenchant critiques of the \"gay groupie syndrome\" and his passionate call for GLBTQ political power through decisive voting blocs, campaign hopefuls became increasingly attentive. How remarkable it must have been to read in the Los Angeles Times Supervisor John L. Molinari proclaiming, \"The gay vote is a key element for any elected official in San Francisco.\" Or to see mayoral candidate Dianne Feinstein chanting for the gay men's softball team against rival police department at their fourth annual game; or to hear that Feinstein had hosted and presided over the lesbian wedding of Human Rights Committee liaison Jo Daly and her partner. Or to finally witness the passage of the state law legalizing sex between consenting adults, thus defeating sodomy's long criminalization, thanks largely to State Senate Majority Leader and mayoral candidate George Moscone and his ally Willie Brown. Moscone's conservative opponent in the runoff that December learned the hard way that you ignored or maligned \"you people,\" a term he used in a well-publicized meeting, at your political peril. Moscone publicly thanked Harvey Milk in his acceptance speech.\n\nThough Milk was not victorious, he finished seventh behind six incumbents out of a twenty-nine candidate field, despite renewed opposition from gay establishment politicos, with 52,649 votes, strongly supported from the Castro (where he garnered 60\u201370 percent) to Haight-Ashbury and Pacific Heights. Jim Rivaldo, who along with Frank Robinson and Danny Nicoletta had joined Milk that year, proclaimed in light of the prescient color-coded map at Castro Camera, \"We got the hippie, McGovern, and fruit voters.\" Milk described the GLBTQ presence in this campaign season as having achieved \"unprecedented political influence.\" Despite the defeat, Milk had arrived. As Clendinen and Nagourney observe, \"No one considered him a fluke anymore. He was part of a phenomenon, the sheer accumulation of gay influence in the city. . . . The boldest, most visible new element of that voting population was in the Castro, and by the end of 1975, Harvey Milk was clearly its voice\u2014and the most public gay figure in the city.\"\n\nWere further proof needed of Milk's new political capital, it came in Mayor Moscone's appointment of him to the significant Board of Permit Appeals. (It had not hurt, of course, that Milk had publicly offered his unsolicited support to candidate Moscone in the run-off mayoral election against Supervisor John Barbagelata). Openly gay Commissioner Milk: a first in U.S. politics. As his friends and allies remembered, it certainly had a ring to it. Moscone called Milk \"a pioneer.\" Even better, he said Milk wouldn't be a pioneer for long\u2014the Bay Area Reporter headline read: \"Moscone: Milk Appointment Is Just the Beginning.\" The GLBTQ promise of the Moscone Administration was deepened by the appointment of Charles Gain as the first chief of police to publicly avow support for out cops on the force (for which Milk had been clamoring), as well as the election of District Attorney Joe Freitas, who pledged to end prosecutions for victimless crimes. In \"Milk Forum\" he gushed, \"[T]he gay community now has a mayor\u2014for the first time ever!\u2014who is not only understanding of our particular problems, but who wants to correct the inequalities.\"\n\nEver the maverick, however, Milk served the shortest recorded term on the Permit Appeals Board; the Moscone dreams quickly soured. Milk had gotten wind of a purported deal among a number of state and national politicians, including Moscone, California Assembly Speaker Leo McCarthy, Congressmen Phil Burton and his brother John, and Assemblymen John Foran and Willie Brown. It was a multi-move, multilevel political orchestration that would mend rifts and solidify the new Democratic regime in California, with implications for the U.S. Congress. The last person in this political pact: Art Agnos, a McCarthy aide, who would be the heir apparent of the 16th Assembly District\u2014Milk's District. Board of Supervisors President Quentin Kopp memorably called this political arrangement an \"Unholy Alliance.\" That Mayor Moscone had dismissed Milk from the Board of Permit Appeals on the grounds that one could not hold such a position while campaigning\u2014when he himself had done so a number of times\u2014heightened the stench for some. In the Bay Guardian article entitled \"Ganging Up on Harvey Milk,\" Bruce Brugmann and Jerry Roberts railed against what they described as \"a naked, unabashed power play. . . . The hypocrisies abound.\"\n\nTrue to political character, Milk was outraged by the machinations. As he said in his declaration of candidacy, among the selected 1976 documents: \"I think representatives should be elected by the people\u2014not appointed. I think a representative should earn his or her seat\u2014I don't think the seat should be awarded on the basis of service to the machine.\" Given the math\u2014what that impressive map indicated about voting patterns in Milk's campaigns, the 1974 vote total in the 16th District for John Foran, and the fact that Art Agnos was a political unknown\u2014Milk's prospects for success appeared strong. \"Milk vs. The Machine\" became the slogan derived from media that fanned Milk's audacious challenge. This crusade seemed very much in keeping the vision Milk had championed since 1973. He wrote on his 1976 \"Declaration of Candidacy\" application: \"My candidacy gives you a choice. Machine politics or an independent voice? . . . A Machine doesn't serve people, it rewards only people who slave it. I will fight to prevent San Francisco from becoming a Chicago politically.\"\n\nPerhaps it is too obvious to call Milk's Assembly campaign a transitional moment, given the requisite performance on the larger stage and greater complexities of California state politics. The transition we have in mind here, however, is toward a national political arena, one that made possible his deft leadership in engaging and exploiting the more familiar homophobic national spectacle of 1977. Although Milk had always commented on issues of national concern, in 1976 his commentaries on the impact of the Coors boycott, the Supreme Court's homophobia, Nixon's legacy, the presidential primary election, California's Nuclear Initiative, Angola, the failed revolutionary legacy of 1776, Bob Dole, and of course on GLBTQ lives and the gay rights movement all seem to suggest an ever-expanding political vision. After his own race had ended in June, Milk focused much attention on the presidential race. A picture of Milk shaking hands with Jimmy Carter appeared in the Bay Area Reporter, and his endorsement of Carter, announced in the selected document, \"'Uncertainty' of Carter or the 'Certainty' of Ford,\" was enthusiastic despite Carter's discomfort and ambivalence regarding the GLBTQ community. (Milk would later challenge President Carter to address the human rights of GLBTQ people and encouraged a writing campaign to lobby the White House.) Milk counseled his readers and supporters to learn lessons from the African American community by exercising their voting power in the election, by voting as a bloc for Carter and other candidates sympathetic to gay rights.\n\nAt the same time, that broader vista only held meaning in relation to the communities in which one lived, the people for whom one strived and struggled politically. Milk's hero, as he wrote in the column included in this volume, \"My Concept of a Legislator,\" was Harry Truman, who\n\n> never developed contempt for the common man, perhaps because he had personally waited on so many of them in his Kansas City clothing store. Once in public office, he never patronized his constituents, perhaps because he never forgot the time when he had to file bankruptcy. The people who supported Truman were those who had to sweat for their daily bread, many who may not have been as articulate as others with their tongues, but were loving in their hearts, those who instinctively recognized that no person is born to greatness, but many people rise to it.\n\nHis political vision and platform clearly had not changed, and he approached the campaign against the Machine as he had the others, by tirelessly attending every meeting possible, shaking hands and conversing, and by building bridges among those who shared stakes in the Sixteenth District. Frank Robinson remembered, \"Everything could be going against him, but he would come back to the headquarters jubilant because he has persuaded one old lady to vote for him. . . . It was as if every person he won over represented an important victory. . . . Those moments meant more to him than anything in the world.\"\n\nThroughout the campaign, and even into the first hours of the election returns, there was cause for hope. Hope, the theme and trope that would come to define Milk's legacy, had emerged during the 1976 campaign in part because Art Agnos told him, after one of their countless tandem events, that his stump speech was too dour. Perhaps this time Milk underestimated his opponent, who was backed by every prominent politician at the state and local level (including, at the eleventh hour, Gov. Jerry Brown, who had sworn neutrality) and endorsed by the very press (such as the Bay Guardian) that had encouraged Milk and castigated the Machine. The gay establishment, of course, actively supported Agnos; that low moment when they imported openly lesbian Massachusetts state representative Elaine Noble to endorse Agnos (to throw her weight against Milk, whom she had never met) must have stung deeply. Some openly accused Milk himself of being involved in a political deal with the Machine, which he bitterly denounced as a smear campaign. Moreover, Milk may have strategically overestimated his support among Castro voters, spending more time emphasizing non-gay rights issues while Art Agnos highlighted his solidarity with the GLBTQ community. The full-page Agnos campaign ad in the Bay Area Reporter a week before the election packed a punch, however inaccurate: \"'Who is really upfront for Gay rights no matter who the audience is?' . . . If Harvey Milk won't speak out for gay rights at the Labor Council in S.F., what will he do in Sacramento?\" It has been suggested that the 35 percent of the votes Agnos received in the high turnout Castro (Milk garnered 62 percent), compared to the lower turn-out minority neighborhoods where Milk fared worse than he had planned and concentrated, arguably made the difference in the election. The toll was also personal, including the disintegration of his relationship with Scott Smith, and the death threats that resonated with his long-standing foreboding about an early demise.\n\nAgainst those long odds, Milk only lost by 3,630 votes of 32,000 cast, though the triumphalism of his enemies writing his political obituary must have only deepened the exhaustion of his third campaign\u2014two in two years\u2014and third defeat. Had he squandered his chance for election to the Board of Supervisors in 1977, as he had his appointment to the Board of Permit Appeals, because of his political willfulness? Were those pundits correct who suggested the margin of Milk's loss meant that the gay establishment could no longer deliver the vote, thus paving the way for a run in 1977? Was the most significant, and dramatic, act of Milk's operatic political career yet to come?\n\nOne can imagine Milk losing faith in Hope. In addition to the precariousness of his political future, Milk now sought change amid shifting, worsening political contexts in California and nationally, with obvious impact at home. Cultural anxieties in California were running high despite new Governor Jerry Brown's \"big thinking\": \"Beneath the glamour of California life, the undercurrent of anxiety had rarely run harder and faster than in the mid-1970s. With the economy in recession, jobless rates stood at almost 10 percent, and the state was coming under growing pressure to raise taxes and slash services. Factories and employers were heading south, their tanks and theaters were closing, and people were increasingly moving out of the big cities.\" Was there glumness in Milk's interview with the San Francisco State University student paper, Zenger's? \"I'm deeply in debt, my store's deeply in debt. It's a struggle to get out. . . . I just took my stand and lost, unlike other politicians who get involved just to fill their egos and their pockets. But I knew the consequences of running, but it's vital that someone raises the questions. Such as, why is there crime? Not how to stop it by using more police. Why is there unemployment and why has industry been driven out of town?\"\n\nMore ominously, evangelical and social conservatives, alarmed by what they perceived as widespread moral deterioration in a climate of tolerance and permissiveness precipitating a crisis in the American family, began in earnest to mobilize a movement that would hit full stride after Ronald Reagan's election in 1980. Paul Boyer explained, \"In this decade, the nation's evangelical subculture emerged from self-imposed isolation to become a powerful force in mainstream culture and politics. . . . When Newsweek magazine proclaimed 1976 as 'The Year of the Evangelical,' the editors underscored a phenomenon that was well under way.\" As Bruce Schulman put it, \"Thunder was gathering on the right.\" Worse yet, its lightening, prayers being answered, should smite GLBTQ people. \"In the rhetoric of the New Right, feminists were second only to homosexuals in the list of villains threatening the American family,\" according to Dominic Sandbrook. \"If there was one threat that particularly disturbed preachers, it was homosexuality.\" Texas televangelist James Robison's battle cry of 1980 could be found forming in the throats of the devout half a decade earlier: \"I'm sick and tired of hearing about all of the radicals, and the perverts, and the liberals, and the leftists, and the communists coming out of the closet. It's time for God's people to come out of the closet, out of our churches, and change America.\" And so they did.\n\nThe year 1977 proved to be one of the most important in GLBTQ history to date, the best and worst of times, though its memory has been overshadowed by Stonewall and by the tragic events of 1978. The year began with such promise. The long-sought district elections had finally been won the previous November, changing the landscape of municipal politics and quite likely the political fortunes of Harvey Milk, as that color-coded map had long predicted. In his first \"Milk Forum\" column for the new year, he touted Carter's presidency and district elections as \"changes of influence . . . changes in priorities\" that meant good news for GLBTQ people. A gay rights ordinance protecting against homophobic discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations had just passed in Dade County, Florida, a noteworthy civil rights victory in what would become a series of such advancements over the course of the year, in unlikely bastions such as St. Paul, Wichita, Iowa City, Champaign-Urbana, Aspen, and Eugene. A number of states were considering similar legislation. Wyoming became the 19th state to legalize sex between consenting adults of either gender. Shilts described the \"year of the gay\": \"The year, it seemed, surely would show that the gay movement had reached the juggernaut status; nothing could stop this idea whose time had come.\"\n\nIronically, the year would be consequential for the movement because an evangelical pop singer and sunny endorser of Florida orange juice named Anita Bryant thwarted the gay rights juggernaut in a Manichean showdown. Bryant's wholesome persona, Donna Reed looks, mellifluous voice, conservative values, and devout faith\u2014embodiments of what we now know familiarly as family values rhetoric\u2014made her a powerful spokesperson for a homophobic campaign to repeal the Dade County gay rights ordinance that in its own right threatened to become a national juggernaut and a harbinger of the New Right. Calling itself \"Save Our Children,\" the repeal effort trafficked in the invidious and intoxicating fear appeals regarding homosexual \"recruitment.\" As Bryant, in a characteristic harangue, charged, \"What these people really want, hidden behind obscure legal phrases, is the legal right to propose to our children that there is an acceptable alternate way of life. . . . No one has a human right to corrupt our children. Prostitutes, pimps, and drug pushers, like homosexuals, have civil rights, too, but they do not have the right to influence our children to choose their way of life.\" Bigotry never sounded so sweet. It took no time at all to gather the required signatures (plus 50,000 more in addition) to secure a special election in June of 1977 that would become known as \"Orange Tuesday.\" Gay rights operatives from both coasts took their stand on the battleground of Miami. But their rational arguments proved to be no match for commercials featuring provocative images from the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day parade, and the refrain of children in peril, accompanied occasionally by Bryant's rousing version of \"Battle Hymn of the Republic\" (and her labeling of gay people as \"human garbage\").\n\nHarvey Milk brilliantly rose to the challenges of this shameful episode in U.S history (though children are not taught this blight in today's classrooms). For months prior to the vote in Dade County, Milk used \"Milk Forum\" as a bully pulpit to mobilize against Anita Bryant, calling for a boycott of Florida orange juice, her firing, and an indictment against her for \"inciting violence against Gay people.\" He chided those who did not take her seriously, who were apathetic about participating in the boycott, and he excoriated the National Gay Task Force (NGTF), which defended her right to free speech. In response, he exclaimed, \"Well, what about the rights of all those people who are fire-bombed because they are Gay? What about the rights of all who are, and will be, discriminated against because they are Gay? What about the rights of all who become victims of Anita Bryant's preaching? What about the rights of Ovidio Ramos? Where is our great NGTF when it comes to Gay people who are beaten and lose their jobs?\" Milk linked Bryant's hate speech to recent public discourse by Supervisor Feinstein and Assistant District Attorney Douglas Munson in San Francisco that homophobically associated the \"crime wave\" with public sex spaces in their effort to relocate such businesses to a dilapidated section of the city.\n\nOn June 7, the repeal passed with nearly 70 percent of the vote. Milk had not been enlisted by the gay establishment for the fight on the ground in Florida, but unlike more \"respectable\" representatives he became the de facto leader of the throngs of GLBTQ and allied people in the Bay Area who reacted to the repeal. Arguably, Milk was now a national leader of the gay rights movement. As in cities around the country, thousands took to the streets of San Francisco on Orange Tuesday and every night for the better part of a week thereafter, during which Milk's presence towered. That first night is best remembered because Milk transformed the massive demonstration that threatened to turn violent (\"Out of the Bars and into the Streets!\") into a five-mile peaceable march throughout the city, culminating in a rally of 5,000 at the steps of City Hall; the front-page Chronicle photograph of Milk with his familiar bullhorn captured well the spirit and achievement of the massive demonstration and its leadership. Clendinen and Nagourney observed:\n\n> [T]he midnight march was wholly a product of the city's new gay population, one angry and aroused, with its own neighborhood, its own distinct cultural values, its own community organizations and leaders, and its own way of reacting to events. Anita Bryant's victory had helped bring them into focus. As a large red banner emblazoned with the words \"Gay Revolution\" was run up the flagpole on Union Square that night, there was a new reality in San Francisco, and it was emerging in the middle of a crucial political campaign.\n\nMilk quelled violence even as he wasted no time in escalating his bellicose rhetoric so as to frame Dade's outrage as a catalyst for intensified activism. \"Without the President and the national leaders taking a stand, this will be a struggle like the black civil rights or the anti-Vietnam movements. . . . There will be violence and bitterness and the nation will be seared, but if we have to do battle in the streets we are ready to.\"\n\nAs the selected 1977 documents vividly convey, Milk believed Orange Tuesday to be a watershed event, \"a victory deeper than the actual vote,\" a swiftly rising tide of visibility, consciousness, and mobilization. \"This was our Watts, our Selma, Alabama.\" In a powerful turn of affect and logic, Milk thanked Anita Bryant, for \"she herself pushed the Gay Movement ahead and the subject can never be pushed back into the darkness. . . . [S]he has, in fact, started what so many of us have talked about\u2014a true national Gay Movement.\" And Milk did shape his public discourse on Orange Tuesday with an eye toward the coming election. In his candidacy announcement later that month, during the Gay Freedom Day celebrations, Milk asked where the city's elected officials had been during those days of protest, where had been the \"appointed gay officials,\" such as his replacement on the Board of Permit Appeals and soon-to-be campaign rival, Rick Stokes. \"Like every other group,\" Milk averred, \"we should be judged by our leaders.\"\n\nAnd GLBTQ leadership was needed more than ever. Anita Bryant's homophobic discourse surely had something central to do with the rise of anti-GLBTQ violence in San Francisco as elsewhere. Although city gardener Robert Hillsborough was murdered by a young man deeply conflicted about his own sexuality, John Cordova's chanting of \"faggot\" while repeatedly stabbing his victim marked it as a crime constituted if not directly caused by the same hate speech that Milk found politically galvanizing. Hillsborough's mother said of Anita Bryant, \"My son's blood is on her hands.\" This very same fund of hate speech provided gubernatorial hopeful and California state senator John Briggs with an expedient platform, announcing just days after Orange Tuesday his campaign to remove from the public schools \"gay teachers\" or anyone affirming homosexuality in the classroom. Local politicians took the opportunity to attempt repeal of the recently won district elections and to recall GLBTQ-friendly officials such as Moscone, Hongisto, and Freitas, a nail biter not resolved favorably until the mid-summer special election. Across the nation, concerted efforts began to roll back gay rights, repeal campaigns that by 1978 would prove successful in St. Paul, Wichita, and Eugene. Assemblyman Art Agnos decided not to pursue promised gay rights legislation within the current climate created by Bryant and the Dade repeal.\n\nWithin this broad combustible and propulsive political context, Milk stayed true to the vision he had forged through three previous campaigns. He never wavered from his position that GLBTQ people needed an \"avowed gay leader\" in office, one who was not beholden to those straight liberal \"allies\" who retreated from their pledged support whenever the political temperature on homosexuality rose precipitously. During this campaign, Milk first called for a statewide \"gay caucus\" and convention that would mobilize community across political, social, and other lines to create a unified front and influential bloc designed to test the commitment of any aspirant politician\u2014local, state, or national\u2014on gay rights issues. In the 1977 selected documents and elsewhere, Milk again was writing about what he called \"gay economic power\" and the representational power of a visible \"lifestyle.\" In his speech to the San Francisco Gay Democratic Club, he claimed that his motivation for running (running and running and running) was that \"I remember what it was like to be 14 and gay.\" Inspiring that kid from Altoona, or Des Moines, or wherever the closet needed to be opened in the now familiar refrain of the evolving Hope speech, was Milk's sine qua non.\n\nYet, even with a heightened emphasis on gay rights, Milk's campaign vision and platform still embodied the populist, neighborhood activist fighting for all people in District 5 and across San Francisco, voicing issues that mattered to African Americans, Latinos, women, the elderly, and heterosexuals. In \"Milk Forum,\" he openly called for a coalition with other minorities. As he declared in his 1973 Address to the San Francisco Joint International Longshoremen & Warehousemen's Union and Lafayette Club, \"People are more important than buildings and neighborhoods, more important than freeways.\" This was still Milk's mantra, one that made his call to GLBTQ people that \"we must learn from history that the time for riding in the back of the bus is over\" broadly resonant, even in this virulently homophobic period.\n\nMilk's campaign, despite more favorable circumstances than in any of his previous attempts, nevertheless required a fight. He was once again openly opposed by prominent members of the gay establishment, including his accommodationist challenger, wealthy attorney and bathhouse entrepreneur Rick Stokes, who outspent him nearly three to one. Moreover, the threat loomed that a split gay vote in District 5 could lead to a victory for the formidable straight liberal candidate, Terence Hallinan. However, Milk had momentum in this electoral season that nearly perfectly reversed his showing in 1976. He won the endorsements of the GLBTQ press, including longtime antagonist Sentinel, as well as most of the GLBTQ Democratic clubs, and unexpectedly gained the straight press support of the liberal Bay Guardian and relatively conservative San Francisco Chronicle. With such visible and influential backing, and the help of campaign manager Anne Kronenberg as well as Dick Pabich, Jim Rivaldo, Cleve Jones, Frank Robinson, and Danny Nicoletta, Milk finally won, taking 30 percent of the vote in a field of seventeen, finishing first in sixty out of ninety-eight precincts and second in another thirty-three. Harry Britt, who would succeed Milk as city supervisor in little more than a year, remembered:\n\n> Election night, 1977, was a night when we looked at each other in the clutter of Harvey's camera store headquarters in a new way. I don't think many of us had looked beyond that night\u2014now we allowed ourselves to envision new possibilities, to sense that the magic Harvey had seen in us and built power around could spread and create a different future in which power and acceptance of diversity might come together. The people of District 5\u2014GLBTQ and straight\u2014had understood Harvey's call to that future. Seemingly, he would now be able to lead us to his Promised Land.\n\nMilk's triumphal message consummated the vision he had forged since 1973. \"This is not my victory, it's yours and yours and yours. . . . If a gay can win, it means that there is hope that the system can work for all minorities if we fight. We've given them hope.\"\n\nHarvey Milk's forty-two and a half weeks as the first openly gay elected city official in the United States is captured metaphorically by the iconic photograph depicting his walk from the Castro to City Hall on Inauguration Day, January 9, 1978. The joyous occasion appears in the smiles on the faces of Milk and his constituents, including his troubled and troublesome boyfriend Jack Lira, around whose shoulder Harvey's arm is intimately draped (openly sharing the day with his lover meant so much, personally and symbolically). In glancing at the photograph, it could be a depiction from a Gay Freedom Day parade; indeed, in an important sense, it was. But it might also have been a demonstration, not unlike those that followed the same path after Robert Hillsborough's murder and Orange Tuesday, marching again for GLBTQ justice and equality. Although Milk now operated officially as a gay rights leader on the inside\u2014as he had always insisted was necessary\u2014rather than struggling against discriminatory power from Castro Street, he never stopped the street theater, the marching, the neighborhood activism, the campaigning. As he had stated in his 1977 Victory Statement, \"I understand the significance of electing the first Gay person to public office and what his responsibility is not only to the people of San Francisco but to Gay people all over. It's a responsibility that I do not take lightly. Whoever shoulders that responsibility must be willing to fight. It won't be an easy task.\" Where Milk was concerned, and as the photograph speaks, all political work, even the bureaucratic sort, constituted a mode of activism.\n\nElecting to be sworn in on the steps of City Hall, where more might see and the spectacle might flash more brilliantly despite the falling rain, Milk's inaugural words foretold the spirit of his leadership to come: \"Anita Bryant said gay people brought drought to California. Looks to me like it's finally started raining. . . . This is not my swearing-in, this is your swearing-in. You can stand around and throw bricks at Silly Hall or you can take it over. Well, here we are.\" Milk's first official act as supervisor introduced an anti-discrimination ordinance assuring gay rights in all employment, housing, and public accommodations in San Francisco. In his first major address, included among the 1978 selected documents, Milk told his audience, \"I understand that my election was not alone a question of my gayness but a question of what I represent. In a very real sense, Harvey Milk represents the spirit of the neighborhoods of San Francisco. For the past few years, my fight to make the voice of the neighborhoods of this city be heard was not unlike the fight to make the voice of the cities themselves be heard. The American Dream starts with the neighborhoods.\" A month later, Milk emphasized that his domestic policy chiefly concerned an \"emotional commitment\" or \"patriotism\" regarding the city and its \"new demographics\": \"The city is no longer primarily white, established, middle class, or even primarily married with children. It's yellow, brown, black, with a steady influx into the middle economic class of people who were formerly lower economic class. It's also increasingly young marrieds with no children, or young couples who aren't married, or extended families, or gays, or singles, and most certainly seniors.\" Ever the populist, progressive bridge builder, Milk would pave the way for a city he believed one day in the near future would be most heavily populated and influenced by Chinese and GLBTQ Americans.\n\nMilk quickly discovered that laboring in City Hall on behalf of San Francisco and its neighborhoods differed substantially from the grassroots efforts that championed it. Anne Kronenberg, now one of Milk's administrative aides, explained:\n\n> Any glamorous illusions I had about coming to City Hall were quickly dispersed. I learned that the job was difficult, often thankless and always frustrating. Everybody thought we could solve their problems whether it was cars parked on sidewalks, dog poop in the park or street signs that needed repair. We were district representatives and Harvey was elected to handle these problems, to be the voice of District 5 in City Hall. Each morning Harvey would empty his pockets stuffed with scribbled napkins filled with names, numbers and constituent problems. . . . Life in City Hall was not as Harvey envisioned it either. It was one thing running a campaign, it was quite another working within a bureaucracy to accomplish your goals.\n\nMilk was often on the losing end of 6\u20135 votes on the Board. He often clashed with his fellow supervisors, perhaps especially, as the months passed, with District 8 supervisor Dan White. Although White's campaign discourse in his conservative, Irish Catholic district had been unmistakably homophobic, Milk told his skeptical friends and colleagues that White was \"educable\" and promising. White's early solidarity corroborated Milk's intuition: persuading Board president Dianne Feinstein to appoint Milk chairman of the coveted Streets and Transportation Committee, voting with Milk to save the Pride Center and to honor the twenty-fifth anniversary of a lesbian couple, and endorsement in committee of Milk's gay rights ordinance. Milk aide Dick Pabich observed, \"He's supported us on every position, and he goes out of his way to find out what gay people think about things.\" Their relationship soured, however, after Milk reversed his position on the psychiatric treatment facility White sought to keep out of his neighborhood, casting the deciding vote. White's thin-skinned and grudging character forged Milk's perceived betrayal into an abiding animus and internecine rivalry. White would cast the only negative vote against the ultimately successful gay rights ordinance. As we know, White's vindictiveness could and would go beyond the pale\u2014tragically so.\n\nYet despite the bureaucratic drudgery required to solve the practical problems of his constituents, evidenced by quotidian correspondence found in his archives, and the frictions and frustrations of routine political wrangling on a Board with an opposition majority, Milk thrived. After memorably informing Mayor Moscone that Milk was \"number one queen now,\" the two, once politically at odds, became allies. Moreover, as Mike Wong observed,\n\n> Harvey was probably the most popular elected official in San Francisco today. . . . The women . . . who once labeled Harvey as anti-woman were now his supporters. Gay people found a committed defender of gay rights. The Toklas members had come to respect their once enemy. Liberals who once shunned him found him to be most receptive and enjoyable to work with. Neighborhood groups knew that they had a powerful ally on the Board. Harvey's re-election list [by supervisorial lottery as part of the Board restructuring post-district elections, Milk was among those supervisors who would have to run for reelection in 2. rather than 4 years] now included endorsements from most of his former opponents and people who never gave him the time of day.\n\nMilk's leadership also began to become more visible and influential on the state and national political scenes. He successfully helped organize the California Gay Caucus, creating a politically united front that would achieve coalitional solidarity and thus create pressure on political candidates of every stripe to support gay rights. The caucus enacted Milk's vision long sought in his voter registration efforts and calls for GLBTQ power and indigenous leadership, embodying his belief that \"Gay political clout must move forward in the face of the recent defeats in St. Paul and Wichita.\"\n\nDominating Milk's attention during most of what remained of that first year in office, and solidifying his reputation as a local activist stalwart with an expanding national reputation, was state senator John Briggs's crassly opportunistic and virulently homophobic campaign to rid the California schools of GLBTQ teachers\u2014what became certified as Proposition 6 in May and otherwise known as the Briggs Initiative. Given Briggs's disrepute, even within his own party, he undoubtedly surprised most by taking the mantle of Anita Bryant and making the entire state of California the battleground staked elsewhere that year only in municipalities like Wichita and Eugene. Few would have expected this fight to culminate in Milk's crowning achievement\u2014and swan song.\n\nWithin that broader post-Dade County context, there was little reason to be optimistic about stemming the national wave of homophobia that Briggs had managed to ride into temporary political prominence and menace. Much as in the case of Bryant's campaign, the Briggs Initiative inflamed the electorate because it concerned children, discourse rife with bogeys of sodomy, molestation and murder of innocents, and the classroom as a breeding ground of homosexual indoctrination. As Briggs argued in an apocalyptic editorial entitled, \"Deviants Threaten the American Family\": \"Children in this country spend more than 1,200 hours a year in classrooms. A teacher who is a known homosexual will automatically represent that way of life to young, impressionable students at a time when they are constantly exposed to such homosexual role models, they may well be inclined to experiment with a life-style that could lead to disaster for themselves and ultimately, for society as a whole.\" Elsewhere Briggs warned, \"If you let one homosexual teacher stay, soon there'll be two, then four, then 8, then 25\u2014and before long, the entire school will be taught by homosexuals.\"\n\nFor potential victims of Prop 6, the scope and implications of its broad language\u2014\"advocating, soliciting, imposing, encouraging, or promoting private or public sexual acts . . . between persons of the same sex in a manner likely to come to the attention of other employees or students\"\u2014struck deeply rooted personal and communal fears of (state-sponsored) exposure and ruination, and the greater ease and likelihood of being ensnared. Sol Madfes, executive director of the United Administrators of the San Francisco school district, explained, \"The Briggs Initiative would leave teachers in the position of being accused\u2014and then having to prove their innocence. . . . The board or superintendant will listen when a parent starts yelling. The attitude is\u2014where there's smoke, there's fire. Under Briggs, the opportunity would be there to crucify somebody by accusation.\" The first poll in September indicated 61 percent to 31 percent in favor of Prop 6. GLBTQ press and activists urged calm and solidarity in the face of certain defeat.\n\nMilk's response, as we might expect, was to fight. According to his battle plan, articulated and reiterated throughout the documents in this section, one must ceaselessly talk, speaking out to explode the homophobic myths and hysteria that the Religious Right and opportunists such as John Briggs exploited to their ideological and political advantage. Milk implored:\n\n> I believe that we can win in November . . . but only if we mount a full-fledged campaign. One that covers all bases, both positive and defensive. Yes, defensive, too. For not to answer the false charges is, to some, an admission that the charges are not false. Otherwise, we would repudiate them. There is no time like the present to start to repudiate them. For the sooner we start, the sooner we can lay them to rest. So, we need to have every gay person talk to as many non-gay people as possible about the issues\u2014both real and false. It will be a monumental effort and, because many gays will remain in their closet, it makes it that much more important for those of us who are out.\n\nAnd talk he did, refuting the lies and distortions that asserted that homosexuality is a choice, that homosexuals are the primary perpetrators of child molestation and abuse, that homosexuals recruit by becoming \"role models\" for the \"lifestyle,\" and simultaneously promoting the idea that homosexuality is natural, given, omnipresent, good, and undeserving of discrimination, harassment, and violence. In mobilizing GLBTQ people to rise up against Briggs, Milk employed patriotic collective memory, quoting Patrick Henry, the Declaration of Independence, the Statue of Liberty's credo, and \"The Star-Spangled Banner.\" In characterizing the viciousness of the Briggs Initiative, and as a means of rousing resistance by shattering apathy, Milk favored the Holocaust trope, likening Briggs to Hitler and GLBTQ people to Jews oppressed by the genocidal Nazi regime: \"We are not going to allow our rights to be taken away and then march with bowed heads to the gas chambers. On this anniversary of Stonewall, I ask my Gay sisters and brothers to make their commitment to fight. For themselves, for their freedom, for their country.\" What had become his signature opening line, full of humor and bite, said it all: \"I'm Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you.\"\n\nRandy Shilts characterized the public debates Milk and Briggs staged across the state through the fall of 1978 as \"fast food politics,\" owing to the by now boilerplate responses to questions repeated over and over again, and perhaps in part because these political gladiators fighting for the lives of their constituents had become friendly on the road and in the wings of their public verbal battles. But even if the message had become prepackaged and efficient, such mantra-like repetition and simplicity, and the familiarity of the performance, offered Milk's best hope of eroding the bulwark of Briggs's homophobic invective. We believe it made the difference in defeating Prop 6. Others have offered different and compelling reasons for the shift away from Briggs: heterosexuals' eventual realization that Prop 6 would create a slippery slope endangering their free speech and privacy; high-powered bipartisan appeals against the initiative by Ronald Reagan, Jerry Brown, Jimmy Carter, and nearly every other state politician (even if some, namely, the good straight liberal allies Milk had long said could not be trusted, were quieter in their solidarity than the rest); concerted effort by sophisticated GLBTQ politicos and their allies in Los Angeles and elsewhere; and Briggs himself, with his support eroding as election day neared, becoming even more hyperbolic. Nevertheless, these other influences absent Milk's tireless voice would have been necessary but insufficient to defeat Briggs. Harvey Milk held sway. On November 7, Prop 6 was defeated by more than a million votes, 3.9 million to 2.8 million, 58 percent to 42 percent.\n\nIn his victory speech, Milk cast his gaze on the future: \"This is only the first step. The next step, the more important step, is for all those gays who did not come out, for whatever reasons, to do so now. To come out to all your family, to come out to all your relatives, to come out to all your friends\u2014the coming out of a nation will smash the myths once and for all.\" Milk, who often invoked the civil rights movement and especially Martin Luther King, Jr., as analogy, had delivered his mountaintop speech\u2014quite literally, given the events that unfolded in the immediate wake of Briggs's defeat.\n\nMuch has been said by others about those final weeks between the euphoria of Prop 6's demise and the assassinations of Harvey Milk and George Moscone on November 27, 1978: the emotional unraveling of Dan White; his resignation from the Board of Supervisors; his strong-armed rescinding of that resignation and appeal for reinstatement; the political jockeying and lobbying that ensued during the interim; his learning from a reporter that Moscone would not reappoint him; his armed entry of City Hall through a basement window; his execution of George Moscone; his execution of Harvey Milk; Dianne Feinstein's devastating revelation to City Hall employees and reporters, \"Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot . . . and killed. Police have a suspect. Supervisor Dan White.\" Much too has been said about Milk's eerie fatalism, his longstanding prediction that he would die early, and his preoccupation with the possibility of assassination\u2014existential trembling no doubt exacerbated by proliferating death threats, the deep exhaustion of the anti-Briggs campaign, the Jonestown massacre in Guyana, and the suicide of boyfriend Jack Lira. Because he recorded it a year before his death, we include in this volume a portion of his political will. Milk's myth is burnished by such hauntings, our retrospective understanding that he knew somehow that he would never get to the promised land with his gay brothers and sisters. But we leave that myth and thirty years' worth of Milk memory\u2014the candlelight march on the night of the assassination, White's sham trial, his Twinkie defense and reduced sentence, the White Night riots, the annual commemorations, the archive, The Mayor of Castro Street, The Times of Harvey Milk, Harvey Milk: An Opera in Three Acts, Harvey Milk Plaza, Harvey Milk High School, his bust in City Hall, Milk, Harvey Milk Day, and much more\u2014for another volume.\n\nRather, we think it fitting simply to note the profound silence on November 27, 1978. In response, we let Harvey, again and again in the pages that follow, speak for himself.\n\nWHY MILK MEMORY MATTERS\n\nIn an important sense, the timing of this collection could not be better. Our project promises to be illuminated by the still lingering afterglow of the Focus Features film Milk, directed by Gus Van Sant, written by Dustin Lance Black (for which he received an Academy Award), and starring Sean Penn as Harvey Milk (he, too, earned the Oscar). This acclaimed biopic rediscovered and, for both GLBTQ and straight audiences, introduced the name and political life of Harvey Milk. We cannot emphasize this enough: We would venture to estimate that a large percentage of an entire GLBTQ generation, and most of multiple generations of straight people, would not have recognized the name Harvey Milk before 2008. Milk retrieved, if within the limits of Hollywood history, the Castro's first decade as a GLBTQ homeland, Mecca, or Oz, the time before HIV\/AIDS when sex, sociality, solidarity, and struggle created affective bonds and visibility never before experienced to such an extent by GLBTQ peoples in the United States. Christopher Castiglia and Christopher Reed view Milk\u2014and Milk's appropriation of Rob Epstein's 1984 documentary The Times of Harvey Milk\u2014as part of the reparative and transformational counter-memory that undoes \"de-generational unremembering\" and deploys the past for social and political GLBTQ benefits in the present. Mathias Danbolt suggests that the film also productively juxtaposes heady memorialization with \"archives of homophobic violence\"\u2014black and white images of state repression of gay men, the viscera of shame, and Milk's brutal end\u2014so that we \"remember that the fight for a society livable for all continues in the present\"\u2014that is, as a mode of activist mobilization.\n\nThe stakes of the film deepened and widened because of the timing of its release in late fall of 2008, on the eve of the historic Obama election and amid the clamor of battle over Proposition 8 (\"California Marriage Protection Act\"), the ballot initiative and constitutional amendment that would by definition exclude same-sex marriage in California. Numerous articles marked parallels between the Prop 8 fight and Harvey Milk's successful campaign against Proposition 6. Proposition 6 failed, perhaps Milk's greatest political achievement; Proposition 8 passed, for many a devastating reversal of short-lived marriage equality. Despite the wrenching disappointment, many believed that Milk re-politicized GLBTQ peoples, reignited the movement. \"We need Harvey Milk now,\" someone told USA Today, \"This movie reminds us what it's like to fight for our rights, something I think many of us have forgotten how to do.\" Echoing the Advocate, which dramatically announced \"the Resurrection of Harvey Milk,\" people wondered aloud, \"What would Harvey do?\" and \"What if Milk had lived?\" Such questions and the discourses that inspired them revealed a robust public memory of Milk.\n\nIn the few years since the film, Milk's legacy has remained amplified, as an inspiration for the 2009 Equality March on Washington; in panels sponsored by the San Francisco GLBT Historical Society and featured in its new museum space; in the public performances of Cleve Jones and Dustin Lance Black; in Danny Nicoletta's photographic exhibitions; in the philanthropic efforts of nephew Stuart Milk and his Harvey Milk Foundation; in the 2009 posthumous awarding of the Presidential Medal of Freedom; in California's 2010 passage and subsequent annual celebrations of Harvey Milk Day; in public debate about how the space at 575 Castro should be embodied and utilized; in the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force petition to the United States Postal Service to create a Harvey Milk postage stamp; in Congressman Bob Filner's 2012 proposal that a naval ship be named the USS Harvey Milk in recognition of Milk's service and the end of \"Don't Ask, Don't Tell.\" Our hope with this volume and beyond it is that Harvey Milk will resonate for generations of GLBTQ people fighting for their rights and protections and an end to homophobia and heterosupremacy, and for those engaged in queer world making.\n\nAt the same time that we believe An Archive of Hope reflects and extends this resurgence of Milk memory, we also feel strongly that it would be wise to consider this moment fleeting, to fret over the prospects of losing Milk once more. We note that Milk memory faded in the decades between his assassination and Milk, despite the critical acclaim for The Times of Harvey Milk (the Advocate review in February 1985: \"Harvey Milk' Dilemma: Critical Raves, But Apathetic Audiences\"), despite his being named one of the 100 most influential figures of the twentieth century by Time in 1999, despite the opening in New York City of the Harvey Milk School in 2003. Writing on the 20th anniversary of Milk's assassination in 1998, John Cloud's lament accounts for memory's faltering:\n\n> [M] any gays don't know who he is. \"The memory in this community doesn't last more than a few years,\" [gay historian John] D'Emilio says. Elaine Herscher, a San Francisco Chronicle reporter who has covered gay politics off and on for two decades, agrees: \"The people under 45, even in the Castro, really don't know him.\" San Francisco officials have done their best to change this; every few years they rename a building or two for Milk (including, most recently, an elementary school that became the Harvey Milk Civil Rights Academy). When two men trying to build a Milk memorial in Washington, D.C., held a ceremony there to honor him last year, fewer than a dozen people turned out. It's too bad Harvey Milk is being forgotten.\n\nWe have been haunted throughout our research by an editorial Milk prot\u00e9g\u00e9 and AIDS Quilt founder Cleve Jones published in the Bay Area Reporter in November 2005 in support of the Harvey Milk Memorial Committee. Jones recounted that he and a friend, while having a drink at Edge in the Castro, struck up a conversation with a young gay man who responded to their reminiscing with the question, \"Who was Harvey Milk?\" More alarming, once having been told Milk's story, a story that had helped make possible three gay men having such a conversation in a gay neighborhood in the United States, this twenty-something could not grasp the legacy, comparing without irony Milk's impact to that of pop singing star Avril Lavigne. Twenty years earlier, Frances FitzGerald, surveying a decade's worth of Milk commemoration, concluded:\n\n> The Castro mourned Harvey Milk, and yet it could not seem to make him into a living legend\u2014that is, into a legend that would nourish and sustain it. The Castro saw him as a martyr but understood his martyrdom as an end rather than a beginning. He had died, and with him a great deal of the Castro's optimism, idealism, and ambition seemed to die as well. The Castro could find no one to take his place in its affections, and possibly it wanted no one.\n\nJones would likely take issue with FitzGerald, as he did with his new acquaintance in the Castro. His point, which we emphasize, is that GLBTQ history and memory are fragile, rarely taught, and subject to trivialization even by those within GLBTQ communities. We believe the antidote to such presentism and erasure is to engage in an ongoing effort to circulate queer pasts and conjure their presence wherever possible, in classrooms and community meetings, at pride celebrations and fundraising events, and, yes, even in those gay social spaces where \"history lessons\" might be, well, out of the ordinary. What George Chauncey observed in the context of gay male subculture in the early twentieth century remains vital and necessary for diverse GLBTQ communities today: \"[W]e need to invent\u2014and constantly reinvent\u2014a tradition on the basis of innumerable individual and idiosyncratic readings of [queer] texts. . . . embed its transmission in the day-to-day social organization of [our] world. . . . passed on in bars and at cocktail parties, from friend to friend, from lover to lover, from older . . . serving as mentors to younger . . . just beginning to identify themselves as gay.\" The stories we tell about GLBTQ pasts provide resources, inspiration, and challenge in present struggles\u2014from historic battles over gay marriage and preventing suicides by bullied queer youth, to endemic racism, sexism, classism, ableism, and ageism\u2014and shape the queer futures we imagine and chart.\n\nToward that end, in December 2010, California state senator Mark Leno introduced SB48, the Fair, Accurate, Inclusive, and Respectful (FAIR) Education Act, legislation that would revise the existing Education Code so as to include GLBTQ people among those other racially and culturally diverse groups already protected against \"adverse portrayals\" in the state curriculum; moreover, it would require adoption of educational materials that would accurately portray the role and contribution of GLBTQ people in society. On April 4, 2011, more than seventy GLBTQ and ally high school students rallied on the Capitol steps in Sacramento and lobbied on behalf of FAIR as part of the annual Queer Youth Advocacy Day; a day later, on April 5, the Senate Judiciary Committee passed SB48 by a 3\u20132 vote. On April 14, it passed the State Senate, 23\u201314; and it passed the Assembly, 49\u201325 on July 5. Governor Brown signed FAIR into law on July 14, 2011; tellingly, the jubilant announcement of FAIR becoming law on the popular GLBTQ blog towleroad.com was accompanied by the well-known photograph of Harvey Milk in the Gay Freedom Day parade, 1978. With this legislation signed into law, California's position as the largest purchaser of textbooks in the United States could greatly influence what the nation's students are taught, a potentially powerful counter to the social science curriculum as it will be shaped by the second largest textbook purchaser, namely Texas. However, as of this writing, multiple anti-gay grassroots efforts have been underway to seek repeal of FAIR. Further hindering the enactment of FAIR, although the law went into effect in January 2012, most school districts may find a loophole created by state budget cuts. Textbook revisions have been deferred until at least 2015.\n\nLeno justified the bill in part by arguing that a GLBTQ affirmative curriculum may function to reduce homophobic vernacular, bullying, and bashing. Arguably, this vision has been legitimated by the case of Stoke Newington School in north London, which claimed in 2010 to have all but eradicated bullying by introducing in its classrooms Alan Turing, Oscar Wilde, James Baldwin, Andy Warhol, and other prominent GLBTQ figures. Put differently, had California Governor Schwarzenegger not vetoed legislation in 2006 prohibiting negative characterizations of homosexuality in textbooks, he would have had less cause to sign legislation in 2007 seeking to protect vulnerable GLBTQ youth from homophobic violence, such as fifteen-year-old Lawrence King, who was shot in the back of the head in early 2008, by a classmate, for being gay and gender nonconforming. Dustin Lance Black captured this promise in his 2009 Academy Award acceptance speech:\n\n> When I was 13 years old . . . I heard the story of Harvey Milk. And it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life, it gave me the hope to one day live my life openly as who I am and that maybe even I could fall in love and one day get married. . . . If Harvey had not been taken from us 30 years ago, I think he'd want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who have been told that they are less than by their churches or by the government or by their families that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value and that no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you and that very soon, I promise you, you will have equal rights, federally, across this great nation of ours.\n\nAs a heartening case in Milk memory's imagined application writ large, the private all-boys Town School in San Francisco took its second grade seven- and eight-year-old students on a field trip to the Castro in the spring of 2011 as part of its annual Day of Service, designed \"to give our boys perspective on how they can make a small yet meaningful impact on their community.\" This \"neighborhood study,\" as it was called, \"focused on history, social and civil rights, the importance of diversity, and Harvey Milk,\" including a tour and lessons by a local historical guide at sites such as Pink Triangle Memorial Park, the Hope for the World Cure Mural, the Human Rights Campaign Action Center, Harvey Milk's camera shop, and \"the Harvey Milk Elementary School, which is adorned with wonderful murals depicting Harvey Milk's commitment to diversity. While at the school, the guide shared Harvey Milk's analogy, likening a better world to a sandbox where all children play together harmoniously.\" In response to a surprisingly few protests by parents and others, headmaster Brewster Ely, who called the endeavor \"a wonderful success,\" wrote in a public letter:\n\n> At Town we have long taught that it is important to be open minded about difference, and we are pleased that we have boys at school who have gay parents. A few families who felt uncomfortable with the Castro trip chose to keep their sons home, and we recognize their decision to do so. One anonymous parent felt compelled to contact the local CBS News desk and register her unhappiness about the trip through the media. On Friday, CBS ran a story in which I was quoted as saying, \"The school and the administration see the Castro as a respected community in San Francisco, and we want our students to develop an appreciation for whoever lives in our community.\" In an unexpected way, this coverage provided the school and its leadership with a public forum to share the value we see in diversity and in fostering in our boys a respect for and understanding of difference.\n\nThe embodied and mediated engagements of this field trip and its subsequent public discourse\u2014experience, provocation, education, critique, activism, at an early age and cross-generationally\u2014comprise the promises of Milk or any other GLBTQ memories.\n\nThe benefits of Milk and other memory work taught, exhibited, and performed in U.S. classrooms, in the immediate present and near future, come from enacting Stuart Biegel's advice: \"Even just mentioning LGBTs and acknowledging their existence, currently and throughout history, is an important step. Even if nothing else is done, such an act will be a significant contribution.\" Such appears to be the case with The Milk Effect (2012), fifteen-year-old Max Geschwind's ten-minute film in which he interviewed West Hollywood's five City Council members, as well as the four candidates in the state's 50th Assembly District race, on the impact of Milk's legacy. The Milk Effect concludes by having \"his fellow Fairfax High students recite one of Milk's most famous speeches, creating a poignant reminder of how future generations are affected by the past.\" Prior to seeing Milk, Geschwind had never heard of Harvey Milk, but inspired by the film and his work on West Hollywood's planning committee for Harvey Milk Day, he decided to make his own commemoration. In turn, Geschwind inspired his own classmates, who did not know what Milk had achieved.\n\nLonger term, as Kevin Kumashiro has theorized it, such \"disruptive knowledge\" functions more broadly as a queer world-making initiative called \"antioppressive education.\" Perhaps in the span of time it takes these Town School boys and their generation to grow into adulthood, more systemic transformation can be imagined, as expressed in the headmaster's closing words: \"It is my hope that these events ultimately engender an even greater appreciation for diversity and a respect for all people. I close with a statement from our Town School philosophy: Town values being a diverse community that nurtures integrity, sensitivity and respect in its boys, and prepares them to become productive and contributing members of an ever-changing world.\"\n\nFor all of these reasons, we emphasize that when Harvey talked, he was hard to forget, and his memory matters more now than ever. As ongoing instigation and inspiration, we recall sociologist Stephen O. Murray's refutation of the theory he had read in the influential volume Habits of the Heart, which argued that GLBTQ people, collectively speaking, should not be understood as a community. A \"real community,\" according to Bellah and his colleagues, \"does not forget its past.\" Rather it circulates \"stories of collective history and exemplary individuals,\" as well as \"painful stories of shared suffering.\" They concluded, \"Where history and hope are forgotten and community means only the gathering of the similar, community degenerates into lifestyle enclaves.\" Murray admirably invoked history courses and bookstores, the AIDS Quilt, oral history projects, and the San Francisco Gay and Lesbian Historical Society (Milk, too, appears in his apologia) to demonstrate GLBTQ \"community-generated public remembrance.\" In this age of neoliberalism, in which the private rewards of marriage and adoption may take us as GLBTQ people deeper into our homonormative domiciles rather than more expansively into community and coalition building, we believe the gains of public remembrance must be constantly fostered and reestablished, and that we might usefully allow Bellah and his colleagues' ungenerous characterization to haunt us. An Archive of Hope, like Harvey Milk, must always be restless, reaching, establishing grounds of presently unknown possibilities of queerness yet to be.\n\nBy way of closing, we are also reminded of what Horacio Ram\u00edrez described, in recounting legendary San Francisco performer Teresita la Campesina and queer Latino communal memory, as the vexing but vital work of \"talking history\" or developing the \"talking archive\": \"the process of narrating the lives of those who passed on and the meanings the archives communicate back to those committed to listening.\" For the sake of the future of GLBTQ pasts, which is to say the future of us all, we aim to keep Harvey talking, and we hope generations will earnestly engage in the work of queer listening.\n\nNOTES\n\n1. Strange de Jim, San Francisco's Castro (San Francisco: Arcadia Books, 2003), 73.\n\n2. Although the terms gay and lesbian would be historically more accurate in keeping with the vernacular of Milk's era, we risk the anachronism \"GLBTQ\" throughout this essay because, although it, too, has many limitations (gender and sexually non-normative people have always exceeded the language that describes, constitutes, enables, and constrains them), we believe it meaningfully gestures toward the great diversity among individuals, enclaves, and communities existing at that time in San Francisco. That said, in certain instances we use the word gay specifically, such as in the case of \"gay establishment,\" because of its historical accuracy in depicting gay male dominance in a particular social or political sphere or mode, or the phrase \"gay rights,\" which functions as exclusionary synechdoche but also circulated as an nearly universal designation of the movement during the 1970s. Any slippage in nomenclature, which we have found vexingly easy to commit, is our own error, and we are comfortable with the frictions inherent in our effort to queerly cross time through available language. Coincidentally, a 1977 three-part series in the Bay Area Reporter explored the genealogy of the term gay, revealing its emergence as an idiom and its sexual politics. The articles did not discuss gay as an exclusive term representing a diverse population of gender and sexual non-normativity. Jack Warner, \"'Gay'\u2014Our Word, Their Word? Why Call Them Gay?\" Parts I, II, and III, Bay Area Reporter, March 3, 1977, 7; March 31, 1977, 30; and April 4, 1977, 12.\n\n3. Dudley Clendinen and Adam Nagourney, Out for Good: The Struggle to Build a Gay Rights Movement in America (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1999), 407.\n\n4. Frank M. Robinson, \"Harvey's History\u2014And Ours,\" The Harvey Milk Archives Newsletter 1 (January 1983), 4, Harvey Milk Archives\u2014Scott Smith Collection (GLC 35), San Francisco Public Library.\n\n5. Heather Love, \"The Art of Losing,\" in Lost and Found: Queerying the Archive, eds. Mathias Danbolt, Jane Rowley, and Louise Wolthers (Copenhagen: Nikolaj, Copenhagen Contemporary Art Center, 2009), 69.\n\n6. Frank M. Robinson, Letter to the Editor, San Francisco Bay Guardian, July 20, 1995, personal papers of Frank M. Robinson.\n\n7. Some items from the estate, especially ephemera, were donated to the GLBT Historical Society and the ONE Institute. The GLBT Historical Society, for example, now houses Milk's famous barber chair from Castro Camera, in which we both have had the thrill of sitting.\n\n8. Vince Emery's valuable volume The Harvey Milk Interviews is an excellent case in point. We had the happy coincidence of meeting Mr. Emery in the reading room at the San Francisco Public Library and have been bolstered by knowing during our project that he, too, was anthologizing Milk's archival materials. As we can all attest, there is much more to be done. Vince Emery, The Harvey Milk Interviews (San Francisco: Vince Emery Productions, 2012).\n\n9. Ann Cvetkovich, An Archive of Feelings: Trauma, Sexuality, and Lesbian Public Cultures (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2003), 9.\n\n10. In Diana Taylor's influential theory, the documentary (archive) and performative (repertoire) manifestations, preservations, and deployments of memory are distinct but interrelated and should be cultivated together. Taylor, The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2003).\n\n11. \"Homosexual on Board Cites Role as Pioneer,\" New York Times, November 10, 1977, 24.\n\n12. That is, for those who would welcome individuals functioning, synecdochally and otherwise, as the vehicles of history and memory; many are wary of such (identity) politics of historical representation.\n\n13. This counternarrative to the \"great man\" hagiography is deftly crafted in Brett Callis's work, which has not been given the attention it deserves. Brett Cole Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall: Harvey Milk and Gay Politics in San Francisco, 1973\u20131977 (Master's thesis, University of Hawaii, 1991; UMI 1346930).\n\n14. Jack Fritscher, Gay San Francisco: Eyewitness Drummer (San Francisco: Palm Drive Publishing, 2008), 117. Fritscher's claim that \"homomasculine\" culture has been ignored and erased by those chronicling GLBTQ history is compelling, and his \"eyewitness\" to GLBTQ culture in San Francisco over the past 35 years has been insightful and invaluable. By way of contextualizing his observations about Milk, it is also worth noting a politics of remembrance perhaps shaped by long-standing intercommunity tensions. Castells and Murphy observe, \"[M]any gays . . . started another 'colonization' in the much harsher area South of Market. . . . Their marginality from the gay community was not only spatial. Socially, they tended to reject the politicization and positive counterculture of the new liberation movement. They emphasized the sexual aspects of the gay condition. The more the gay community appeared in the process of legitimation, the more a strongly individualised minority, generally poorer and less educated [Fritscher has a Ph.D.], headed toward self-affirmation of a new sexual 'deviance,' many of them joining the sado-masochistic networks: South-of-Market became the quarters of 'leather culture.'\" Manuel Castells and Karen Murphy, \"Cultural Identity and Urban Culture: The Spatial Organization of San Francisco's Gay Culture,\" in Urban Policy Under Capitalism, eds. Nathan I. Fainstein and Susan S. Fainstein (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1982), 254\u2013255. For a more laudatory perspective on the gay community South of Market, see Gayle S. Rubin, \"The Miracle Mile: South of Market and Gay Male Leather, 1962\u20131997),\" in Reclaiming San Francisco: History, Politics, Culture, eds. James Brook, Chris Carlsson, and Nancy J. Peters (San Francisco: City Lights Books, 1998): 247\u2013272.\n\n15. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 405.\n\n16. Fritscher, Gay San Francisco, 117.\n\n17. Jonathan Bell, California Crucible: The Forging of Modern American Liberalism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012), 259.\n\n18. Harvey Milk, \"On the Milk Stool,\" Coast to Coast (Los Angeles), 1978, Harvey Milk Archives\u2013Scott Smith Collection (GLC35), Box 26 (1973\u20131978), Clippings.\n\n19. Harry Britt, \"Harvey Milk as I Knew Him,\" in Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism, ed. Winston Leyland (San Francisco: Leyland Publications, 2002), 78.\n\n20. Jim Rivaldo, \"Remembering How Harvey Milk Helped Pave the Way,\" Bay Area Reporter, June 21, 2001, 40.\n\n21. James M. Jasper, The Art of Moral Protest: Culture, Biography, and Creativity in Social Movements (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 201.\n\n22. Streitmatter argues that the significance of such activism in San Francisco, and Milk's role in it, was amplified because of an expanding gay press: \"Seeing that the major events were being covered by the establishment media, lesbian and gay journalists adopted a new tack: they transformed local events into national ones. By the conventional definition of news, the vote on a city gay rights ordinance was of local interest only; by the revised gay press definition, such a vote was the fodder for the front page of gay newspapers everywhere. In short, the newspapers \"nationalized\" gay news. Streitmatter, Unspeakable: The Rise of the Gay and Lesbian Press in America (New York: Faber and Faber, 1995), 220.\n\n23. Boze Hadleigh, \"Harvey Milk: Ten Years After,\" Christopher Street, September 1988, 16.\n\n24. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 403.\n\n25. Ronald Yates and Michael Coakley, \"Milk's Murder Stuns San Francisco Gays,\" Chicago Tribune, November 30, 1978, 7.\n\n26. Ed Jackson, \"Gay Liberation 101\u2014Plus,\" The Body Politic, November 1984, 30.\n\n27. For biographical material regarding Harvey Milk's life before politics, see Harvey Milk Archives\u2014Scott Smith Collection (GLC 35); Harvey Milk\u2014Susan Alch Correspondence (GLC 19); Harvey Milk\u2014Joseph Campbell Correspondence; Randy Shilts Papers, Mayor of Castro Street series, James C. Hormel Gay and Lesbian Center, San Francisco Public Library; and Randy Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk (New York: St. Martin's Press), 1982\n\n28. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 38.\n\n29. For pre-Castro GLBTQ San Francisco history, see John D'Emlio, \"Gay Politics and Community in San Francisco since World War II,\" in Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Fast, eds. Martin Bauml Duberman, Martha Vicinus, and George Chauncey, Jr. (New York: New American Library): 456\u2013476; Allan B\u00e9rub\u00e9, Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War Two (New York: Free Press, 1990); Susan Stryker and Jim Van Buskirk, Gay by the Bay: A History of Queer Culture in the San Francisco Bay Area (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1996); Nan Alamilla Boyd, Wide Open Town: A History of Queer San Francisco to 1965 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003); Horacio N. Rocque Ram\u00edrez, \"A Living Archive of Desire: Teresita la Campesina and the Embodiment of Queer Latino Community Histories,\" Archive Stories: Facts, Fictions, and the Writing of History, ed. Antoinette Burton (Durham: Duke University Press, 2005); Marcia M. Gallo, Different Daughters: A History of the Daughters of Bilitis and the Rise of the Lesbian Rights Movement (San Francisco: Seal Press, 2007); Susan Stryker, Transgender History (San Francisco: Seal Press, 2008); J. Todd Ormsbee, The Meaning of Gay: Interaction, Publicity, and Community among Homosexual Men in 1960s San Francisco (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2010); Allan B\u00e9rub\u00e9, My Desire for History: Essays in Gay, Community, and Labor History, eds. John D'Emilio and Estelle B. Freedman (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2011), Chapters 1\u20134; John D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940\u20131970, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), Chapter 12; and Bell, California Crucible, Chapter 10.\n\n30. For detailed explanations of the complex changes in San Francisco that made possible the significant growth of GLBTQ culture and politics, and the development of the Castro as we have come to know it, see Fritscher, Gay San Francisco; Timothy Stewart-Winter, \"The Castro: Origins to the Age of Milk,\" The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide 16 (January-February 2009), 12\u201315; Josh Sides, Erotic City: Sexual Revolutions and the Making of Modern San Francisco (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009); Martin Meeker, Contacts Desired: Gay and Lesbian Communications and Community, 1940s\u20131970s (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006); Screaming Queens: The Riot at Compton's Cafeteria, dir. Victor Silverman and Susan Stryker (Los Angeles: Frameline, 2005); Joshua Gamson, The Fabulous Sylvester: The Legend, the Music, the Seventies in San Francisco (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2005); Winston Leyland, ed., Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism (San Francisco: Leyland Publications, 2002); The Castro, dir. Peter L. Stein (San Francisco: KQED, 1998); Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, Chapter 10; Benjamin Heim Shepard, White Nights and Ascending Shadows: An Oral History of the San Francisco AIDS Epidemic (London: Cassell, 1997); Streitmatter, Unspeakable; Richard Edward DeLeon, Left Coast City: Progressive Politics in San Francisco, 1975\u20131991 (Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas Press, 1992), Chapter 3; John D'Emilio, \"Gay Politics, Gay Community: San Francisco's Experience,\" in Making Trouble: Essays on Gay History, Politics, and the University, ed. John D'Emilio (New York: Routledge, 1992): 74\u201395; Frances Fitzgerald, Cities on a Hill: A Journey through Contemporary American Cultures (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986); John D'Emilio, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940\u20131970 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983), Chapter 10; Manuel Castells, The City and the Grassroots: A Cross-Cultural Theory of Urban Social Movements (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1983), Chapter 14; Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street; and Edmund White, States of Desire: Travels in Gay America (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1980): 30\u201369.\n\n31. D'Emilio, \"Gay Politics and Community in San Francisco since World War II,\" 468.\n\n32. Chester Hartman, The Transformation of San Francisco (Totowa, New Jersey: Rowman and Allanheld, 1984; and Stew art-Winter, \"The Castro.\"\n\n33. D'Emilio, \"Gay Politics and Community in San Francisco since World War II,\" 468.\n\n34. Larry Kramer, \"Gay Boom Seen in Bay Area,\" Washington Post, April 7, 1978, F2; Fitzgerald, Cities on a Hill, 48; and Daniel Nicoletta, \"So Long at the Fair,\" The Harvey Milk Archives Newsletter 1 (July 1983), 1. See also Danny Nicoletta, \"Harvey Milk and the Castro of the 70s,\" East Village Boys (January 21, 2009), <http:\/\/www.eastvillageboys.com\/2009\/01\/21\/dan-nicoletta-harvey-milk-and-the-castro-of-the-70s\/>; and Daniel Curzon, \"Why We Came to Sodom,\" The North American Review 268 (December 1983): 21\u201323.\n\n35. Quoted in Stewart-Winter, \"The Castro,\" 14. See Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, Chapter 10.\n\n36. Bell, California Crucible, Chapter 10, 261.\n\n37. Bell, California Crucible, 263, 265.\n\n38. D'Emilio observes, \"The explosive growth of the gay community and its political activism also made internal differences visible. For some gay men liberation meant freedom from harassment; for radicalesbians it meant overthrowing the patriarchy. Bay Area Gay Liberation participated in anti-imperialist coalitions while members of the Alice B. Toklas Democratic Club sought to climb within the Democratic Party. The interests of gay entrepreneurs clashed with those of their gay employees. Gay male real-estate speculators displayed little concern for 'brothers' who could not pay the skyrocketing rents. Gay men and women of color found themselves displaced by more privileged members of the community as gentrification spread to more and more neighborhoods. Sexual orientation created a kind of unity, but other aspects of identity brought to the surface conflicting needs and interests.\" D'Emilio, \"Gay Politics and Community in San Francisco since World War II,\" 468. On the critique of gay male sex culture, see Sides, Erotic City, Chapter 3.\n\n39. Elizabeth Armstrong, Forging Gay Identities: Organizing Sexuality in San Francisco, 1950\u20131994 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), esp. Chapters 5 and 6.\n\n40. Armstrong, Forging Gay Identities, 104.\n\n41. Bruce J. Schulman, The Seventies: The Great Shift in American Culture, Society, and Politics (New York: The Free Press, 2001), 72.\n\n42. Dominic Sandbrook, Mad as Hell: The Crisis of the 1970s and the Rise of the Populist Right (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2011), 364.\n\n43. Schulman, The Seventies, 180; and Bruce J. Schulman, \"Comment: The Empire Strikes Back\u2014Conservative Responses to Progressive Social Movements in the 1970s,\" Journal of Contemporary History 43 (2008), 697. See also Simon Hall, \"Protest Movements in the 1970s: The Long 1960s,\" Journal of Contemporary History 43 (2008): 655\u2013672.\n\n44. \"Gays on the March,\" Time, September 8, 1975, 32.\n\n45. John D'Emilio, \"After Stonewall,\" in Making Trouble: Essays on Gay History, Politics, and the University (New York: Routledge, 1992), 248.\n\n46. Moral shock, as conceptualized by sociologists James Jasper and later Deborah Gould, is constituted by a singular happening or multiple events, sudden or cumulative, which creates sufficient cognitive, affective, and ethical or moral disruption such that one is compelled toward political action; it might be understood as contextual inducements that awaken or propel, or motivate in a material sense, an activist (or collectively, movement) into being. In rhetorical studies, Bonnie Dow draws on Kenneth Burke to theorize how such \"existential disruptions\" can be\u2014arguably, must be\u2014rhetorically produced or framed to function effectively. See Jasper, The Art of Moral Protest, 106; Deborah Gould, Moving Politics: Emotion and ACT UP's Fight Against AIDS (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 134\u2013143; and Bonnie J. Dow, \"AIDS, Perspective by Incongruity, and Gay Identity in Larry Kramer's '1,112 and Counting,'\" in Readings on the Rhetoric of Social Protest, 2nd ed., eds. Charles E. Morris III and Stephen Howard Browne (State College, PA: Strata, 2006): 320\u2013334.\n\n47. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 10, 71\u201372.\n\n48. In his thesis, Callis argues, as did some of Milk's critics, that during his political ascendancy, and specifically in his first three campaigns, Milk downplayed his sexuality, such as omitting his sexuality or gay rights issues from his official candidate statement, in his alliance with unions, or in his appeals to non-GLBTQ voters, a politically opportunistic calculus intended to strengthen the viability of his candidacies. His opponent in the 1976 Assembly campaign, Art Agnos, declared, \"Milk is running a closet campaign in front of straight audiences and an upfront one in the gay community.\" This perspective deepens our engagement with the closet politics inevitably imbricated in a gay candidacy at the time\u2014or in our own time, as the documentary Outrage demonstrates. That said, we are not convinced that Milk's tactics at any time during his political career constituted a variation of what Kenji Yoshino has conceptualized as \"covering.\" Regardless of tactical foregrounding and de-emphasis, the broader context of Milk's public persona and framing, and his bedrock personal and political commitment to gay rights, even granting sometimes lamentable variations among outlets and audiences, rendered him functionally and unmistakably \"out.\" Callis is correct in observing that Milk was never a single-issue, that is exclusively gay rights, candidate. Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, 31, 51, 70, 97\u201398. See also Outrage: Do Ask, Do Tell, dir. Kirby Dick (New York: Magnolia Pictures, 2009); and Kenji Yoshino, Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights (New York: Random House, 2006).\n\n49. Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, 24, Chapter 2.\n\n50. Deeper understanding of the gay political establishment in San Francisco can be found in the pages of the two leading gay papers, Bay Area Reporter and the Sentinel, as well as in SIR's newsletter, Vector.\n\n51. Michael Wong, \"Harvey,\" Harvey Milk Archives\u2014Scott Smith Collection, Series 4, Box 13, 2; and Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Gay Groupie Syndrome,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 20, 1975, 10\u201311.\n\n52. Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, 29\u201330, 37\u201338.\n\n53. Wong, \"Harvey,\" 1\u20132. Note, too, Daniel Curzon's memory of first encountering Milk: \"Harvey wasn't St. Harvey then; in fact, he hadn't even been elected to the Board of Supervisors in San Francisco, but he was extremely articulate and charismatic as he spoke from his seat at the conference. I was turned on by him, to be honest.\" Daniel Curzon, Dropping Names: The Delicious Memoirs of Daniel Curzon (San Francisco: IGNA Books, 2004), 30.\n\n54. Randy Shilts, \"The Life and Death of Harvey Milk,\" Christopher Street (March 1979), 30.\n\n55. William E. Beardemphl, \"Comments,\" Bay Area Reporter, October 3, 1973, 6.\n\n56. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, February 14, 1974, 5.\n\n57. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, June 20, 1974; and Harvey Milk, \"Gay Groupie Syndrome,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 20, 1975, 10\u201311. See also Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, Chapter 3.\n\n58. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, May 9, 1974, 3, 5; Harvey Milk, \"Clear Choice for Voters,\" Bay Area Reporter, May 15, 1974, 1\u20132; and Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, June 20, 1974, 3.\n\n59. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, February 28, 1974.\n\n60. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, July 3, 1974, 5; and Harvey Milk, \"Castro Street Fair,\" Bay Area Reporter, 8.\n\n61. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Gay Unity: Fact or Fiction,\" Bay Area Reporter, December 23, 1974, 8.\n\n62. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Teamsters Seek Gay Help,\" Bay Area Reporter, November 27, 1974, 2.\n\n63. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, July 18, 1974, 5.\n\n64. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, April 11, 1974, 5.\n\n65. Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, April 11, 1974, 5; and Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, August 29, 1974, 5.\n\n66. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Castro Busts,\" Bay Area Reporter, September 4, 1974; and Harvey Milk, \"Waves from the Left,\" Sentinel, September 12, 1974, 5.\n\n67. Historically, indeed by definition, movement leaders do not seek elective office. Milk, however, defied categorization. He was a pastiche, philosophically, politically, and rhetorically, one moment speaking in the tones and absolutes of gay liberation (though he claimed not to be a revolutionary and rebuked the extremes of left and right), then sounding like a gay rights reformist (though he rejected gradualism and assimilationism); little wonder he clashed with both the radicals of Bay Area Gay Liberation (BAGL) and the moderates of the Alice B. Toklas Memorial Democratic Club. As part of this explanation, note that Milk emerged during the period of transition between the movements known as Gay Liberation and Gay Rights\/Gay Identity. For discussions of changes in the GLBTQ movement in the 1970s, see Barry D. Adam, The Rise of the Gay and Lesbian Movement, rev. ed. (Boston: Twayne, 1995); Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good; Craig A. Rimmerman, From Identity to Politics: The Lesbian and Gay Movements in the United States (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2001); Armstrong, Forging Gay Identities; and David Eisenbach, Gay Power: An American Revolution (New York: Carroll and Graf, 2006).\n\n68. In Herbert Gold, \"A Walk on San Francisco's Gay Side,\" New York Times, November 6, 1977, SM 17.\n\n69. Bell, California Crucible, 265.\n\n70. \"Elections: San Francisco Squeaker,\" Time, December 22, 1975, <http:\/\/www.time.com\/time\/magazine\/article\/0,9171,879568,00.html#ixzz1AHre4cvD>.\n\n71. GLBT Studies scholar Wayne Dynes observed, \"Later mythology has portrayed Harvey Milk as a radical leftist, but more careful scrutiny shows that he retained elements of his conservative background to the very end. At bottom, he held an almost Jeffersonian concept of the autonomy of small neighborhoods, prospering through small businesses and local attention to community problems. . . . Milk anticipated the later strategy of the 'rainbow coalition,' but because of his personal gifts, and the time and place in which he lived, he was able to make it work more effectively for gay and lesbian politics than any other single individual has done before or since.\" Quoted in Paul Russell, The Gay 100: A Ranking of the Most Influential Gay Men and Lesbians, Past and Present (New York: Kensington Publishing, 1995), 97.\n\n72. Shilts, \"The Life and Death of Harvey Milk,\" 31.\n\n73. \"Harvey Milk to Run for Supervisor,\" Bay Area Reporter, March 20, 1975, 3.\n\n74. Quoted in Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 344; see also Philip Hagar, \"Gay Power Emerging at Ballot Box,\" Los Angeles Times, September 30, 1975, Al.\n\n75. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 343-345; and Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 105-106.\n\n76. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 343-344; Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, 79-80; and Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 7.\n\n77. Shilts, \"The Life and Death of Harvey Milk,\" 32.\n\n78. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Untitled,\" Bay Area Reporter, December 11, 1975, 8.\n\n79. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 340.\n\n80. George Mendehall, \"Finding the Answers: Moscone: Milk Appointment Is Just the Beginning,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 5, 1976, 7.\n\n81. Wong, \"Harvey,\" 6; Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 107, 120-121. It should be noted that pioneer lesbian activist Phyllis Lyon was appointed by Moscone to the Human Rights Commission the same year. Del Martin, \"Phyllis Lyon,\" in Before Stonewall: Activists for Gay and Lesbian Rights in Historical Context, ed. Vern L. Bullough (Binghamton, NY: Harrington Park Press, 2002): 169-178.\n\n82. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Musical Chairs,\" Bay Area Reporter, January 8, 1976, 4.\n\n83. Jerry Burns, \"Kopp Accuses Phil Burton and McCarthy of 'Unholy Alliance,'\" San Francisco Chronicle, February 10, 1976, 4.\n\n84. Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, Chapter 4, 93, 89; Bruce Brugmann and Jerry Roberts, \"Ganging Up on Harvey Milk,\" San Francisco Bay Guardian, February 13, 1976; and \"Milk Will Run\u2014Loses Permit Board Seat,\" San Francisco Chronicle, March 10, 1976, 6.\n\n85. Harvey Milk, \"Declaration of Candidacy,\" n.d., Harvey Milk Archives-Scott Smith Collection (GLC35), Box 3, Series 2a, Harvey Milk Candidacy for Assembly 1976, Official Forms; George Mendenhall, \"Finding the Answers: Harvey Milk vs. The Machine,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 19, 1976; George Mendenhall, \"Finding the Answers: Of Harvey's Running,\" Bay Area Reporter, March 18, 1976; and Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 9.\n\n86. Milk's editorial concerned the 1976 Supreme Court affirmation by a 6-3 vote, without oral argument or written opinion, of the lower court ruling upholding the Virginia sodomy statute in Doe v. Commonwealth's Attorney for the City of Richmond (E.D.Va., 403 F.Supp. 1199, affirmed, --- U.S. ----, 96 S.Ct. 1489, 47 L.Ed.2d 751 [1976]). See Robert D. McFadden, \"Homosexuals and A.C.L.U. Dismayed by Court's Ruling,\" New York Times, March 30, 1976, 17. Milk's animus toward what he called the Nixon Court was well founded. GLBTQ legal scholar William Eskridge observes, \"The Burger Court not only denied rights in almost every decided case involving gay litigants or materials but narrowed Warren Court decisions that potentially empowered gay people against homophobes. . . . By treating sex as dirty conduct rather than expression and 'homosexuals' as presumptive sodomites rather than citizens, the Burger Court did what it could to preserve the remnants of the closet. Don't ask, don't tell sums up the Burger Court philosophy, itself derived from the approach still in rural and small-town America: gay people should be unseen but not heard.\" William N. Eskridge, Gaylaw: Challenging the Apartheid of the Closet (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 146.\n\n87. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: A Lesson from the Convention,\" Bay Area Reporter, July 22, 1978.\n\n88. Quoted in Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 138.\n\n89. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Our Uncle Toms Learn from Nixon,\" Bay Area Reporter, May 13, 1976, 17; Bay Area Reporter, May 27, 1976, 19; Wong, \"Harvey,\" 6-16; Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 9; Shilts, \"The Life and Death of Harvey Milk,\" 33-34; Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, 95-103; and Ron Moscowitz, \"Harvey Milk Blames 2 Factors for Defeat,\" San Francisco Chronicle, June 10, 1976, 7.\n\n90. Sandbrook, Mad as Hell, 276.\n\n91. Mark Vaz, \"Zenger's Interview: Harvey Milk: The Candid Political Activist of San Francisco's Gay Community Speaks, Zenger's, November 3, 1976, found in James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78.\n\n92. Paul Boyer, \"The Evangelical Resurgence in 1970s American Protestantism, in Rigbtward Bound: Making America Conservative in the 1970s, eds. Bruce J. Schulman and Julian E. Zelizer (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008), 29. See also Perry Deane Young, God's Bullies: Native Reflections on Preachers and Politics (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1982).\n\n93. Sandbrook, Mad as Hell, 267, 348.\n\n94. Matthew D. Lassiter, \"Inventing Family Values,\" in Rightward Bound, 14.\n\n95. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Changes of Influence in '77,\" Bay Area Reporter, January 6, 1977, 8-9.\n\n96. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 155. See also Gold, \"A Walk on San Francisco's Gay Side.\"\n\n97. For details of the Dade County repeal fight and its aftermath in 1977, see Tom Mathews, \"Battle over Gay Rights,\" Newsweek (June 6, 1977), 16-26; Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, Chapters 22-26, Bryant quoted 292; Young, God's Bullies, Chapter 3; Cleve Jones, Stitching a Revolution: The Making of an Activist (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 2000), Chapter 5; Eisenbach, Gay Power, Chapter 10; and Fred Fejes, Gay Rights and Moral Panic: The Origins of America's Debate on Homosexuality (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), Chapters 3-5.\n\n98. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Where Does the Political Left Stand on Anita Bryant?\" Bay Area Reporter, April 14, 1977, 9. See also Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Leave Anita Alone?\" Bay Area Reporter, March 17, 1977, 4; and Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Pools within Pools,\" Bay Area Reporter, March 31, 1977, 8. Cuban gay activist Ovidio \"Herb\" Ramos was a spokesperson for the Latin Committee for the Human Rights of Gays, working in Miami, where Bryant's hate speech in the Catholic Cuban community had been fanned by Catholic and Protestant leaders. He participated in a debate on March 14 with representatives of Save Our Children on a Spanish-language radio station. The vitriol of the comments spewed by those listeners who called in\u2014advocating deportation, concentration camps, and execution\u2014was so devastating that two days later Ramos committed suicide. Fejes, Gay Rights and Moral Panic, 128-129; and Young, God's Bullies, 53-54.\n\n99. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Porno Bill to Close Polk\/Castro Bookstores and Flicks?\" Bay Area Reporter, January 20, 1977, 4; Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: The Damage Has Been Done\u2014Again,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 3, 1977, 10; Milk, \"Leave Anita Alone?\"; and Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Finding a Home for Porno Houses,\" Bay Area Reporter, June 9, 1977, 10.\n\n100. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 336-337.\n\n101. Grant Winthrop, \"Florida Vote Upsets San Francisco Homosexuals,\" Boston Globe, Tune 20, 1977.\n\n102. See Tina Fetner, \"Working Anita Bryant: The Impact of Christian Anti-Gay Activism on Lesbian and Gay Movement Claims,\" Social Problems 48 (August 2001): 411-428.\n\n103. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 164. In a January 1979 editorial, Eric Rofes drew explicit linkages among Bryant's crusade, Hillsborough's murder, and Dan White's assassination of Harvey Milk within a broader context of escalating homophobic attacks. \"To deny there is a connection [among these events] . . . is to deny there is a connection between the rational hatred of homosexuality and the irrational violence directed against gay people.\" Eric Rofes, \"Milk Death, Homophobia Link Hard to Deny,\" Boston Globe, January 8, 1979, 11.\n\n104. See Fejes, Gay Rights and Moral Panic, Chapters 6 and 7.\n\n105. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 160.\n\n106. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: 40,000 Throng Castro St. Fair,\" Bay Area Reporter, August 18, 1977, 11; and Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: A Lifestyle Emerges,\" Bay Area Reporter, September 1, 1977, 11.\n\n107. For analysis of the Hope Speech, and Milk's discourse generally, see Karen A. Foss, \"Harvey Milk: 'You Have to Give Them Hope,'\" Journal of the West 27 (April 1988): 75-81; Karen A. Foss, \"The Logic of Folly in the Political Campaigns of Harvey Milk,\" in Queer Words\/Queer Images: Communication and the Construction of Homosexuality, ed. R. Jeffrey Ringer (New York: NYU Press, 1994): 7-29; Karen A. Foss, \"Harvey Milk and the Queer Rhetorical Situation,\" in Queering Public Address: Sexualities and American Historical Discourse, ed. Charles E. Morris III (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 2007): 74-92; and Jason Edward Black & Charles E. Morris III, \"Harvey Milk, 'You've Got to Have Hope' (24 June 1977),\" Voices of Democracy journal (National Endowment for the Humanities) 6 (2011): 63-82.\n\n108. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: You Draw the Conclusion,\" Bay Area Reporter, August 4, 1977, 8.\n\n109. For discussion of the 1977 campaign, see George Mendenhall, \"Finding the Answers: Milk vs. Stokes in the Castro,\" Bay Area Reporter, December 9, 1976, 13-14; Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Haight Street: A New Direction or Back Behind the Iron Gates?\" Bay Area Reporter, October 13, 1977, 14; Wayne Friday, \"Milk for Supervisor District 5, Bay Area Reporter, October 27, 1977, 16-17; Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Running against a Moralist,\" Bay Area Reporter, October 27, 1977, 20; Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 11; Callis, From Castro Street to City Hall, Chapter 5; Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, Chapter 24; Anne Kronenberg, \"Everybody Needed Milk,\" in Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism, ed. Winston Leyland (San Francisco: Leyland Publications, 2002): 37-43; Shilts, \"The Life and Death of Harvey Milk,\" 36-39; Wong, \"Harvey,\" 19-25; Bill Sievert, \"Divided They Stand\u2014The Milk-Stokes Split,\" The Advocate, July 13, 1977, 13; and Jerry Burns, \"17 Wage Wide-Open Battle for District 5 Supervisor,\" San Francisco Chronicle, November 4, 1977, 4.\n\n110. Harry Britt, \"Harvey Milk as I Knew Him,\" 80.\n\n111. Quoted in Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 183.\n\n112. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Victory Statement,\" Bay Area Reporter, November 10, 1977, 77.\n\n113. Quoted in Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 190. For discussion of Milk's inauguration and opening acts and speeches as supervisor, see Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 12; and Randy Alfred, \"Milk Sworn In: SF Gay Goes to City Hall,\" GAYVOTE (San Francisco Gay Democratic Club newsletter) 1 (January 1978): 1, 4, found in James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 4, Series 2a. G.\n\n114. In his \"Milk Forum,\" he declared, \"The coalition of minorities\u2014including the feminist and Gay movements\u2014are starting to join on all issues that affect anyone in the coalition.\" Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: The Jarvis-Gann Initiative,\" Bay Area Reporter, March 30, 1978, 14.\n\n115. Kronenberg, \"Everybody Needed Milk,\" 41. For an account of Milk's work in City Hall during 1978, see Emery, \"Appendix: Milk's Supervisorial Activities,\" The Harvey Milk Interviews, 317-339; Bruce Pettit, \"Anne Kronenberg & Dick Pabich: Harvey Milk's Dynamic Aides Speak Out,\" Bay Area Reporter, March 2, 1978, 8-9; and Bruce Pettit, \"Milk's Last Three Months,\" Bay Area Reporter, July 20, 1978, 7.\n\n116. See Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapter 12.\n\n117. Pettit, \"Anne Kronenberg and Dick Pabich\"; and John Geluardi, \"Dan White's Motive More about Betrayal than Homophobia,\" San Francisco Weekly (January 30, 2008), <http:\/\/www.sfweekly.com\/2008-01-30\/news\/white-in-milk>. See also Mike Weiss, Double Play: The Hidden Passions Behind the Double Assassination of George Moscone and Harvey Milk (1984; San Francisco: Vince Emery Productions, 2010).\n\n118. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 193.\n\n119. Wong, \"Harvey,\" 29, 30.\n\n120. Briggs' campaign against gay teachers was particularly appalling because ideology, such as Bryant's evangelicalism, did not motivate him. Reporter Robert Shrum wrote, \"Briggs recalled that, 'Reagan was going down the tubes in 1976 until he came up with Panama as an issue.' So Briggs came up with his own issue, 'the homosexual issue,' rating it 'the hottest social issue since Reconstruction.'\" Although Briggs claimed \"it was when he flew to Miami to volunteer for Bryant's crusade that the Lord inspired him with the Briggs Initiative,\" his inspiration, as Shilts argued, likely came rather from his will to power: \"it seemed highly doubtful from the start that John Briggs ever really had anything personal against gays. He was just running for governor. 'It's just politics . . . just politics.'\" After the gubernatorial prospects faded, Briggs pressed on with Prop 6 because it likely represented his last best hope for the political limelight. Shrum, \"Gay-Baiting in California: Sexual Politics in the Classroom,\" New Times, September 4, 1978, 23-24; and Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 157-58, 241.\n\n121. Quoted in Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 381.\n\n122. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 239.\n\n123. Quoted in Shrum, \"Gay-Baiting in the Classroom,\" 22.\n\n124. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 242.\n\n125. For a discussion of Holocaust rhetoric in the history of the struggle for gay rights, see Arlene Stein, \"Whose Memories? Whose Victimhood? Contests for the Holocaust Frame in Recent Social Movement Discourse,\" Sociological Perspectives 41 (1998): 519-540. Throughout his career, Milk used Hitler, the Nazis, and Jewish traitors as analogies and rhetorical frames in denouncing his political enemies. In addition to Document 10 on police brutality, note these examples: \"As [Anita Bryant] gains support (and she is) she takes stronger and stronger anti-gay stands. Reminds me of how Hitler rose to power by using the Jews as bait. I don't see Bryant becoming another Hitler, but the tactic is similar. Hitler even had many Jews on his side at first, defending his 'rights'\"; \"Letting [Anita Bryant] get away with her bigotry and hatred is not too far from letting the Nixons and the Hitlers get away with their sicknesses\"; \"Hitler lives on in Briggs.\" Milk, \"Leave Anita Alone?\"; Milk, \"Pools within Pools\"; and Harvey Milk, \"Milk Forum: Jarvis-Gann,\" Bay Area Reporter, June 22, 1978, 12.\n\n126. Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 229. For description of a typical debate, see for example Jean Dickinson, \"Briggs-Milk Debate: Scoring Points in WC [Walnut Creek],\" Contra Costa Times, September 17, 1978, 1, found in James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78 Clippings. For discussion of the October 11, 1978, televised debate hosted by KQED in San Francisco, in which Milk was partnered with San Francisco State University Speech Professor and lesbian-feminist activist Sally Miller Gearhart, see Raul Ramirez, \"Verbal, Physical Scuffling Mark Debate on Prop. 6,\" San Francisco Examiner, October 12, 1978, 10; and Jones, Stitching a Revolution, 49-51.\n\n127. Clendinen and Nagourney, Out for Good, 381-390; and Shrum, \"Gay-Baiting in the Classroom,\" 24-27.\n\n128. Quoted in Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, 250.\n\n129. Warren Hinckle, \"Dan White's Final Solution,\" Inquiry Magazine, October 29, 1979: 8-20; See Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street, Chapters 15-18; Weiss, Double Play; The Times of Harvey Milk, dir. Rob Epstein (New York: New York Films, 1984); Warren Hinckle, Gayslayer! The Story of How Dan White Killed Harvey Milk and George Moscone and Got Away with Murder (San Francisco: Silver Dollar Books, 1985); Stryker and Van Buskirk, Gay by the Bay; Jones, Stitching a Revolution; Leyland, Out in the Castro; de Jim, San Francisco's Castro; William Lipsky, Gay and Lesbian San Francisco (San Francisco: Arcadia Publishing, 2006); and Milk: A Pictorial History of Harvey Milk (New York: Newmarket Press, 2009).\n\n130. As a friendly amendment to Castiglia and Reed's insightful reading of the \"metamemory\" in Milk, by which they mean intertextual layers of the past operative in the film, including Epstein's The Times of Harvey Milk, we would emphasize that the invaluable countermemory initiatives they prescribe entail multiple and complex rhetorical challenges, including the inventional work of creating inducements to memory in the first place (gay film qua gay film cannot be presumed sufficient, however sexy the trailer) and providing the requisite contextual scaffolding (too often disparagingly understood as \"history lessons\") that would enable cross-generational engagement through memory literacies. We are not convinced, for instance, that the intertextual materials Castiglia and Reed rightly identify would be legible as such for many audience members. We continue to puzzle over the vexing question of how scholar activists, what we term archival queers, without seeming patronizing or pedantic while being collaborative, would enhance interest in a memory text and offer enough backstory or \"annotation\" to make the text meaningful beyond basic narrative conventions or facile hero\/martyr tales\u2014not that Milk is guilty of either. Christopher Castiglia and Christopher Reed, If Memory Serves: Gay Men, AIDS, and the Promise of the Queer Past (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012), Introduction and Chapter 1, 66-69. See also Charles E. Morris III, \"Archival Queer,\" Rhetoric and Public Affairs 9.1 (2006): 145-151; and K. J. Rawson and Charles E. Morris III, \"Queer Archives\/Archival Queers,\" in Re\/Theorizing Writing Histories of Rhetoric, ed. Michelle Baliff (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, forthcoming 2013).\n\n131. Mathias Danbolt, \"Touching History: Archival Relations in Queer Art and Theory,\" in Lost and Pound: Queerying the Archive, eds. Mathias Danbolt, Jane Rowley, and Louise Wolthers (Copenhagen: Nikolaj, Copenhagen Contemporary Art Center, 2009), 27, 28.\n\n132. Marco R. della Cava, \"Timing Is Finally Right for 'Milk' Amid Uproar over Gay Marriage,\" USA Today, November 24, 2008, 2D. See also Jesse McKinley, \"Back to the Ramparts in California,\" New York Times, November 2, 2008, 5; Michael Cieply, \"Activists Seek to Tie 'Milk' to a Campaign for Gay Rights,\" New York Times, November 22, 2008, C1; Matt Budd, \"'Milk': We Need Him Now More Than Ever,\" The Huffington Post, November 26, 2008, <http:\/\/www.alternet.org\/story\/108847\/>; and Michael Martin, \"The Resurrection of Harvey Milk,\" The Advocate, November 18, 2008, 33-44.\n\n133. Edward Guthmann, \"Harvey Milk' Dilemma: Critical Raves, But Apathetic Audiences,\" Advocate, February 5, 1985, 34; and John Cloud, \"Harvey Milk: The Pioneer,\" Time, June 14, 1999, 183.\n\n134. John Cloud, \"Why Milk Is Still Fresh,\" Advocate, November 10, 1998, 33.\n\n135. Cleve Jones, \"Support Milk Memorial Project,\" Bay Area Reporter, November 24, 2005. For an interesting corollary, see Josh Getlin's lament about the dimming memory of George Moscone on the 30th anniversary of the assassinations, and on the eve of Milk's premiere. \"Remembering George Moscone,\" Los Angeles Times, November 23, 2008, <http:\/\/www.latimes.com\/news\/opinion\/la-oe-getlin23-2008nov23,0,1670616.story>.\n\n136. FitzGerald, \"The Castro,\" 80.\n\n137. George Chauncey, Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890-1940 (New York: Basic Books, 1994), 283. See also Greg Vogel, \"Gay Historians: Remembrance of Rich Heritage,\" Advocate West, July 23, 1986, 8.\n\n138. Mark Leno, \"Senate Bill No. 48,\" December 13, 2010, <http:\/\/info.sen.ca.gov\/pub\/11-12\/bill\/sen\/sb_0001-0050\/sb_48_bill_20101213_introduced.pdf>; Gerry Shih, \"Clashes Pit Parents vs. Gay-Friendly Curriculums in Schools,\" New York Times March 4, 2011; and Susan Ferriss, \"New Bill Requires Gay History in Textbooks to Fight Bullying, The Sacramento Bee, December 13, 2010, <http:\/\/blogs.sacbee.com\/capitolalertlatest\/2010\/12\/sen-leno-hopes-gay-history-bil.html>.\n\n139. Karen O'Camb, \"FAIR Education Act and Gender Nondiscri-mination Act Pass Key California Legislative Committees,\" LGBT\/POV, April 6, 2011, <http:\/\/lgbtpov.frontiersla.com\/2011\/04\/06\/fair-education-act-and-gender-nondiscrimination-act-pass-key-california-legislative-committees\/>; Jennifer Medina, \"California May Require Teaching of Gay History,\" New York Times, April 15, 2011, http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2011\/04\/16\/us\/16schools.html?_r=2&scp=3&sq=gay&st=cse; MatthewS. Bajko, \"California Schools Already Teaching Gay History,\" Bay Area Reporter, April 21, 2011, http:\/\/www.ebar.com\/news\/article.php?sec=news&article=5645; Stacy Teicher Kha-daroo, \"Could California Lead Nation in Teaching of Gay History in Schools?\" Christian Science Monitor, July 7, 2011, http:\/\/www.csmonitor.com\/USA\/ Education\/2011\/0707\/Could-California-lead-nation-in-teaching-of-gay-history-in-schools; and \"California Governor Signs Fair Education Act, Requiring Schools to Add LGBT History to Curriculum,\" towleroad.com, July 14, 2011, <http:\/\/www.towleroad.com\/2011\/07\/breaking-california-governor-signs-fair-education-act-requiring-schools-to-add-lgbt-history-to-curri.html>.\n\n140. Huma Kahn, \"Politics of Education: New Texas Social Sciences Curriculum Standards Fraught with Ideology, Critics Say,\" ABC News, May 21, 2010, <http:\/\/abcnews.go.com\/Politics\/Media\/education-texas-social-sciences-curriculum-standards-stirs-nationwide\/story?id=10700720>.\n\n141. Lyanne Melendez, \"Opponents Working to Repeal 'Fair Education Act,'\" KGO-TV San Francisco, March 7, 2012, http:\/\/abclocal.go.com\/kgo\/story?section=news\/education&id=8572972; and Seth Hemmelgarn, \"Repeal Effort of California's FAIR Education Act Cleared for Signatures,\" Bay Area Reporter, February 24, 2012, <http:\/\/www.lgbtqnation.com\/2012\/02\/repeal-effort-of-californias-fair-education-act-cleared-for-signatures\/>.\n\n142. Miranda Bryant, \"Anti-Gay Bullies Are Taught a Lesson or Two,\" The Evening Standard (London), October 26, 2010, <http:\/\/www.thisislondon.co.uk\/standard\/article-23891416-anti-gay-bullies-are-taught-a-lesson-or-two.do>. On bullying, see C. J. Pascoe, Dude You're a Pag: Masculinity and Sexuality in High School (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2007); Robin Kowalski, Susan Limber, and Patricia Agatston, Cyber Bullying: Bullying in the Digital Age (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008); Michelle Birkett, Dorothy Espelage, and Brian Koenig, \"LGB and Questioning Students in Schools: The Moderating Effects of Homophobic Bullying and School Climate on Negative Outcomes,\" Journal of Youth and Adolescence 38 (2009): 989-1000; Stuart Biegel, The Right to Be Out: Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity in America's Public Schools (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), Chapter 5; Rebecca Haskell and Brian Burtch, Get That Freak: Homophobia and Transphobia in High Schools (Black Point, Nova Scotia: Fernwod Publishing, 2010); Bullied, dir. Bill Brummel, 2010; Bully, dir. Lee Hirsch, 2012; and The Queering Education Research Institute, accessed June 1, 2012, <http:\/\/www.queeringeducation.org\/>.\n\n143. Rebecca Cathcart, \"Boy's Killing, Labeled a Hate Crime, Stuns a Town,\" New York Times, February 23, 2008, <http:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2008\/02\/23\/us\/23oxnard.html>.\n\n144. Dustin Lance Black, \"Academy Award Acceptance Speech,\" February 22, 2009, <http:\/\/www.glaad.org\/2009\/02\/22\/dustin-lance-blacks-moving-acceptance-speech\/>.\n\n145. Amy Graff, \"The Mommy Files: Is San Francisco's Castro Neighborhood Appropriate for Young Kids?\" SFGATE (San Francisco Chronicle), June 5, 2011, <http:\/\/www.sfgate.com\/cgi-bin\/blogs\/sfmoms\/detail?entry_id=86303>; For similar efforts, see Bajko, \"California Schools Already Teaching Gay History.\"\n\n146. Brewster Ely, \"Dear Town School Parents and Community,\" April 5, 2011, in Graff, \"The Mommy Files\" SFGATE (San Francisco Chronicle), <http:\/\/www.sfgate.com\/cgi-bin\/blogs\/sfmoms\/detail?entry_id=86303>.\n\n147. Biegel, The Right to Be Out, 146. See also Stuart Biegel, \"Teachable Moments,\" The Advocate (April 2011): 20-21; Therese Quinn and Erica R. Meiners, Flaunt It! Queers Organizing for Public Education and Justice (New York: Peter Lang, 2009); Nelson M. Rodriguez and William F. Pinar, eds., Queering Straight Teachers: Discourse and Identity in Education (New York: Peter Lang, 2007); Eric Rofes, A Radical Rethinking of Sexuality and Schooling: Status Quo or Status Queer (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2005); and William F. Pinar, ed., Queer Theory in Education (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1998). For the lesson plans in GLBTQ history provided by GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network), see http:\/\/www.glsen.org\/cgi-bin\/iowa\/all\/library\/record\/2461.html?state=tools&type=educator (accessed June 1, 2012).\n\n148. James F. Mills, \"Got Milk? Filmmaker Creates a Harvey Milk Documentary,\" West Hollywood Patch, June 13, 2012, <http:\/\/westhollywood.patch.com\/articles\/got-milk-young-filmmaker-creates-a-harvey-milk-documentary>.\n\n149. Kevin K. Kumashiro, Troubling Education: Queer Activism and Antioppressive Pedagogy (New York: Routledge Falmer, 2002); and Kevin K. Kumashiro, Against Common Sense: Teaching and Learning Toward Social justice (New York: RoutledgeFalmer, 2004).\n\n150. Ely, \"Dear Town School Parents and Community.\"\n\n151. Stephen O. Murray, \"Components of Gay Community in San Francisco,\" in Gay Culture in America: Essays from the Field, ed. Gilbert Herdt (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992), 115-116. See also Robert N. Bellah, Richard Madsen, William M. Sullivan, Ann Swidler, and Steven T. Tipton, Habits of the Heart (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 153-154.\n\n152. See Jose Esteban Mu\u00f1oz, Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity (New York: New York University Press, 2009).\n\n153. Ramirez, \"A Living Archive of Desire,\" 130.\nPART ONE\n\nMilk and the Culture of Populism\n1\n\n\"Interview with Harvey Milk\"\n\nKalendar, August 17, 1973\n\nHarvey Milk's political career began in the summer of 1973 in a campaign for San Francisco Board of Supervisors, launched in a principled yet soon-to-become signature emotional outburst against systemic class bias and its material harms, increasing corporate power at the expense of hard-working ordinary people, and the abuses of Watergate. Milk was an unknown, unlikely candidate, a hippie Castro Street merchant without political connections or experience, whose passion and populist vision had to overcome knee-jerk negative reactions to his ponytail, his being openly gay, and his candor and outspokenness. But as everyone\u2014friends and foes alike\u2014would soon discover, Milk was a \"natural\" political performer and activist.\n\nThis interview fittingly was published in the San Francisco free gay paper, Kalendar, given shortly after declaring on Castro Street his candidacy for Board of Supervisors, while standing upon that wooden box inscribed \"soap.\" Milk's motives and mission as a \"gay candidate\" seeking a diverse constituency and wide-reaching transformative vision are here first articulated, a political platform that remained remarkably cohesive throughout his career. Milk's preoccupations included homophobic discrimination; gay rights and the means to achieve them; bureaucratic privilege, abuse, and obligation; the economy; victimless crime; answering the needs of ordinary citizens; and nurturing neighborhoods. We also get a glimpse of what would become Milk's unmistakable political demeanor. Here we experience Milk's strong and long-lasting first impression.\n\n. . .\n\n\"Freedom of speech and action is only tokenism in this country. Where there is repression there is violence that makes a mess of the world. It's force and repression,\" he said.\n\nIt was Saturday morning. I sat in a hill-top Castro apartment looking past a lavender-leaved Wandering Jew at the lazy skyline of San Francisco.\n\nAssignment: Harvey Milk, outspoken gay candidate for Board of Supervisors. The Place: His apartment. I had met him a few minutes earlier in the camera shop he runs with his lover Scott. The shop was large with the air of an art studio in the beginning days. (The shop is, in fact only three months old).\n\nHarvey was at the front desk grinning broadly at me as I came through the door.\n\nFirst impression? A rush of invigorating air. Gemini. It figured.\n\nHe showed me photography displays on the walls, telling me he encouraged people to hang their best prints there as a kind of unofficial show of the week. The project obviously excited him.\n\nI made quick physical appraisal of him as we talked and looked at the photographs. Long brown hair pulled back in a pony tail that hung half way down his back. Hazel eyes. Trim body . . . moving with a virile forcefulness.\n\nAfter a few minutes, we left Scott in charge and walked up to the apartment.\n\nHe put some coffee to grind and we sat at the kitchen table talking.\n\n\"I'm forty-three,\" he said, \"and I can do one of two things. I can concentrate on a lot of money while I enjoy perhaps another ten years of active gay life. Then after fifty-three I can just coast. Call the whole thing good. After all, I've had a lot of fun, fantastic experiences.\"\n\n\"Or I can get involved and do something about all the things I think are wrong in our society.\"\n\n\"I remember that not too long ago in New York in Central Park, gay people couldn't bathe out in the sun on the weekend with their shirts off without being busted by police.\"\n\n\"I'm forty-three, so I'm past that but Scott, my lover, is twenty-three and there's another generation coming up and somewhere someday somebody's got to say 'I'm going to fight, not only for myself, but to make it easier for the next group.'\"\n\n\"I've got to fight. Not just for me but for my lover and his lover eventually, whoever it is. I've got to fight for them too.\"\n\n\"Homosexuals are still criminals; until that changes, we are not free. When Herb Caen in his famous comment about my running said, 'What do these people want?' it reminded me of a southern colonel in the war who asked a similar question concerning blacks.\"\n\n\"I want freedom for gay people. I don't want . . . laws or citations instead of jail terms. I don't want more bars or baths or newspapers. I want legal freedom to be who I am.\"\n\n\"If we take the criminal element off of us, the next generation can't be told we are criminals. They can accept us.\"\n\n\"Right now the parent says to the child, \"homosexuals are good and bad, nothing to be upset about.\"\n\n\"The kid says, 'Then why do you call them criminals?'\"\n\n\"The parent says, 'well . . .'\"\n\n\"The kid is left unanswered and we're still against the law.\"\n\nIt was clear to me that Harvey Milk was not afraid to speak his mind. \"For years, like everybody else, I've been bitching,\" he says. \"But what really pisses me off, really got me moving, was Watergate.\"\n\n\"Every day I'd end up screaming at the TV set: 'You lying mother fuckers.'\"\n\n\"Also everyone is out to get the gay vote. Politicians are concerned. They want us. They want our votes. But it's just lip service so long as we remain criminals and nothing is done to change it.\"\n\n\"The Board of Supervisors says they can't do anything about it because it's state law, but they can cut the balls off the police department by cutting the budget. But they pass the police budget like Washington passes the Pentagon's. Without questioning.\"\n\n\"So I'm running. It's going to be a campaign. If other gay people think I'm wrong, let them run, too.\"\n\n\"I'm not representative politically of the whole gay community. There's no such thing as being representative of the gay community in that way. There's some gays who are John Birchers. Others are communist.\"\n\n\"But when the election's over, I'm not just another politician who promised to support gay freedom. I'm still gay and I have a lover I am sexual with.\"\n\n\"If there comes an oppression as there did in Germany for the Jews, it won't matter where we were different in our economic thinking.\"\n\n\"Hitler didn't care if the Jew was an ultra liberal or a conservative. He was Jewish and he went into a concentration camp.\"\n\n\"We're in bed together . . . by the fact that we're all homosexuals. If we don't understand that, we're in trouble.\"\n\n\"The ex-chief of police is running for the Board of Supervisors. If he gets elected, it's going to get more conservative. It's going to crack down more. They've already closed Broadway. Next month it may be the porno shops. After that. . .\"\n\nFor the next hour we talked about a variety of controversial subjects including election of the Board of Supervisors by district, full time supervisors, lower taxes, the economy, religion, the theater and drugs.\n\nHis ideas came racing out at me as I sipped my coffee. I could feel the excitement in him, the intensity, the idealism he had to build a better world.\n\nSupervisor, he feels, is something that should require a man's full time.\n\n\"If $9,000 a year is not enough for Ron Pelosi, I say, let him step down.\"\n\n\"All tax income should be invested,\" he declares, \"so the interest coming in on it will lower our taxes.\"\n\nThe fact that the people who handled Watergate are building our economy is frightening to him. His experience as a security analyst in New York, Dallas and San Francisco he uses to evaluate the present situation.\n\n\"I know, for instance, oil companies can tell you to the gallon how many gallons of gasoline they are going to produce, refine and sell for the next three years. And all of the sudden the oil company says there is not enough oil. That's bullshit. It's because they wanted the Canadian\/Alaskan pipeline built. They said if we don't have this built there's going to be a shortage of gasoline. So the legislation passed and now there's not going to be a shortage for the rest of the year. The public is spoon fed and the press doesn't do anything about it.\"\n\nHis religion is music, Mahler, Bruckner, Wagner and Strauss. He likes the Rolling Stones, too.\n\n\"I think Mahler and Bruckner are more religious than the pope,\" he says. During his early days on the stock market in New York City he became acquainted with Tom O'Horgan who was later famous as the director of HAIR on Broadway.\n\nIn those days O'Horgan was putting plays on in his loft. Harvey helped him produce an all male cast of MAZE there.\n\nThe friendship eventually resulted in Harvey leaving San Francisco and the stock market to help Tom O'Horgan in producing LENNY and JESUS CHRIST SUPER STAR.\n\nBut Harvey's heart was in San Francisco and he left the theater to return. He is appearing, however, in a bit part of a film version of Ionesco's RHINOCEROS to be released in January.\n\nI dreaded my next question, being tired of it and all the answers I thought he might give, but feeling it was too important not to ask.\n\n\"What is your stance on drugs?\" I asked.\n\nHe's never smoked marijuana, he says, even though he's lived with people off and on for over twenty years who have. He drinks a little wine now and then, but that's about it. And coffee.\n\nWhat other people do, he feels, is their affair so long as they don't harm someone else with it.\n\n\"I'd like to know a little more about your past\u2014who you've been,\" I said, relieved to change the subject.\n\nHe smiled and I knew he liked to talk about that, could see he felt good about what had happened to him.\n\n\"I was born on May 22, 1930,\" he said, \"about 20 miles outside New York City on Long Island in a little fishing village.\"\n\n\"When I was twelve I found out that religion was phony or hypocritical. At fourteen I found out I was a homosexual.\"\n\n\"That almost brought me back into religion because I went to a rabbi and I told him.\"\n\n\"The rabbi said something to me that really stuck. He said you shouldn't be concerned about what people said to you about how you lived your life as long as you felt you were living it right. He said that people spend more time legislating about morality and telling people how to spend their lives than about how to make life more enjoyable. Most legislators want to be god. Since they can't be, they try to legislate other people. They only think they are god-like. That's wrong. But instead of being angry and upset about them, you should have rachmones for them\u2014a Jewish word that means: 'Have sorrow and pity with love and compassion.'\"\n\n\"That almost brought me back into religion, but I found out he was a rare bird.\"\n\n\"I left home at seventeen and never went back except for special occasions and therefore grew to love and respect my parents.\"\n\n\"Went to teacher's college upstate New York.\"\n\n\"Campaigned actively for Harry Truman even though I wasn't old enough to vote.\"\n\n\"The Korean War was going on at that time and it was then patriotic to fight for you country, so after college I joined the Navy.\"\n\n\"When I got out, I realized I couldn't be a teacher because if it was discovered that I was a homosexual it would be the end of that, even though I wanted to be a teacher.\"\n\n\"I knocked around the country four or five years\u2014yo-yoed between California and Florida and New York. Worked in gay bars. Finally got to New York and settled down somewhat. Had a lover for five years.\"\n\n\"Got involved in the stock market. Spent eight years working as a research analyst for the stock market.\"\n\n\"During that time I had another love affair that lasted eight years.\"\n\n\"Then I met Tom O'Horgan . . .\"\n\nAnd the story goes on.\n\nAbout the present situation and his campaign he said: \"Maybe one day people will do it legally. Maybe they'll just accept us.\"\n\n\"Meanwhile I'm going out for the straight vote as well as the gay.\"\n\nHarvey gave a wry smile.\n\n\"Some of my best friends are straight,\" he said.\n\nThe things that keep him going are the fact that he has a lover he loves, the music of Mahler and Bruckner, and the words of his rabbi to have rachmones for people, have sorrow and pity for them and love.\n2\n\n\"Address to the San Francisco Chapter of the National Women's Political Caucus\"\n\nSeptember 5, 1973\n\nHarvey Milk's first campaign derived its energy and vision from a populism that embraced those effectively disenfranchised people without a representative voice in mainstream politics, those who suffered and struggled in a city of decaying neighborhoods and a system of inequity and injustice. Milk opposed the corporate, or \"downtown,\" interests and their backers in the Chamber of Commerce and on the Board of Supervisors, challenging the very meanings and entailments of \"development.\" In this city increasingly symbolized by high rises, Milk emerged as a grassroots Democratic politician mobilizing as his chief constituents the have-nots as electoral agents of change against this \"mentality\" of the privileged, what elsewhere he characterized as the \"Marie Antoinette Syndrome,\" and advocating instead for a different configuration of urban infrastructure, dwelling, and community.\n\nMilk's populist vision surely must have resonated with members of the San Francisco chapter of the National Women's Political Caucus who comprised his audience for this address. NWPC formed in 1971 with the purpose of recruiting and training feminist candidates for political office to achieve equal representation for women and to resist sexism, racism, poverty and their material consequences. Although many rightly have critiqued the gay rights movement of this era for its lack of inclusiveness of all GLBTQ people (for being gay-white-male-centric), and to a lesser degree Milk's own insensitivities to women generally and lesbians specifically during his career, this early document attests to the expansive reach of Milk's originary platform.\n\n. . .\n\nThe reason that the economy is fouled up . . . The reason that there is so little meat in the supermarkets and that there is a gasoline shortage is that the same people . . . the same mentality, that handled all aspects of Watergate also handles all aspects of our economy. The reason that the City of San Francisco is becoming fouled-up is that the same people . . . the same mentality that is for spending money to tear down ugly freeways while there is a need for more child care centers; the same mentality that is for building convention halls instead of developing the poverty areas\u2014this mentality is setting the priorities and tax rates for our City. This mentality votes against nudity; votes for the death penalty; votes to maintain a police budget, over 50 percent of which is wasted in attempting to contain victimless crimes while rape, burglary, and\/or theft continue to increase. . . . This is the mentality that succumbed so readily to the political pressure applied by MUNI drivers and their union, in spite of warnings from top MUNI officials that service would decrease if the suggested fringe benefits were increased . . . Supervisors don't ride trolleys. . . so they went ahead and approved the fringe benefits.\n\nA city . . . any city takes one of two basic approaches. It either looks at the immediate present and tries to get through (and through the next election); or it looks at the future and tries to set up a system that will take the city through that future. . . . The Founding Fathers did this with the Constitution. . . . There were things wrong with the original document . . . that is what the amendments have tried to correct. But (with a few great exceptions and I don't have to tell this particular audience what they are) it works. For it is long range in its thinking. A city can concern itself about the clogged sewers of today and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow and tomorrow's problems come; or it can prepare itself for tomorrow. . . . This city and its present leadership is too concerned with today, with too little thought of tomorrow . . . that mentality must stop. . . . We must not only do something about today's problems, but we must also put effort, energy, and money into tomorrow's city. For we all will die someday and there will be another generation to take our places, and we do not have the right to lay our mistakes at their feet.\n3\n\n\"Address to the Joint International Longshoremen & Warehousemen's Union of San Francisco and to the Lafayette Club\"\n\nSeptember 30, 1973\n\nIf the best-remembered Hope Speech, or more precisely its peroration, has become Harvey Milk's rhetorical signature, his mantra, then this address should be rightfully recalled as his manifesto. This passionate critique of the status quo and blueprint for economic justice, civil rights, public health\u2014in a word, community\u2014underwrote every argument, every position, every campaign that would comprise Milk's political career and corpus. The inter dependency, mutuality, and equality of Milk's city on a hill\u2014indeed, this speech constitutes a remarkable queering of that familiar trope, marking a predominantly conservative rhetorical legacy from John Winthrop through Ronald Reagan to the present day in the United States\u2014provided the foundation on which hope for GLBTQ people, for women, for people of color, for seniors, for poverty-stricken children, for all, was built. Its fundamental premise, its most eloquent articulation\u2014\"It takes no compromising to give the people their rights. It takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no political deal to give people freedom. It takes no survey to remove repression\"\u2014should reside in the pantheon of oratorical landmark refrains in U.S. history.\n\nIn thinking about the audiences for this address, and its thrust, other aphorisms also come to mind, such as Oscar Wilde's quip \"Morality is simply the attitude we adopt toward people whom we personally dislike.\" Milk believed such attitudes might be changed, perhaps especially if you could look a voter in the eye, shake hands, or address a crowd. Although Milk's coalition politics with Teamsters in the Coors Boycott of 1974 and after has been emphasized by historians and filmmakers, he sought to forge solidarity with the working class and labor activists from the very beginning. Likewise he appealed to other constituencies perhaps thought politically unreachable, such as members of ethnic gentlemen's clubs. An openly gay candidate might reasonably bypass such seemingly incommensurate if not hostile audiences, especially when delivering a rally cry against legislating morality (and its underlying bigotry). However, Milk was as fearless as he was unabashed\u2014and he was a true believer in the promise of that beacon called San Francisco.\n\n. . .\n\nA city, any city can take one of several approaches to the future; whichever approach it takes not only affects the citizens of today but also greatly affects the children of tomorrow\u2014the citizens of tomorrow.\n\nSan Francisco, like any other major city, has that choice, and before we get too far down any route we must be sure that it is the route we really want to travel. The present leadership seems to have taken the money route: bigness and wealth. They would like to be remembered as making San Francisco a major money center: a big bank book. The trouble with this approach is that there is no way whatsoever that this city can ever gain anywhere near the wealth that the New Yorks, the Chicagos have. No matter how much we try we will always be somewhere down on the list. If someone ever wants to add up the bank accounts of our cities New York is always going to come out on top.\n\nOr, our city could take the route of becoming the seat of learning. But, there is no way it will be able to surpass the Bostons . . . there are just too many great universities throughout the land. We can never become the seat of learning.\n\nThen there is the route that for some reason or other no major city has ever tried. That is the route that has little room for political payoffs, deals . . . that is the route that leaves little in the way of power politics . . . that is the route of making a city and exciting place for all to live: not just an exciting place for a few to live! A place for the individual and individual rights. There is no political gain in this non-moneyed route, and thus you do not find people with high political ambitions leading this way. There are no statistics to quote . . . no miles of highway built to brag about, no statistics of giant buildings built under your administration. What you have instead is a city that breathes, one that is alive and where the people are more important than highways.\n\nHow does this route stand with our present leadership? They are more impressed with statistics than with life. I want a city that is not trying to become a great bankbook.\n\nSan Francisco can start right now to become number one. We can set examples so that others will follow. We can start overnight. We don't have to wait for budgets to be passed, surveys to be made, political wheelings and dealings . . . for it takes no money . . . It takes no compromising to give the people their rights. It takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no political deal to give people freedom. It takes no survey to remove repression.\n\nWe can start immediately by rereading the Constitution of the United States. We can start immediately by no longer trying to legislate morality. The Constitution calls for the separation of church and the state . . . and, yet we find that our legislatures end up spending millions of dollars and years of their lives trying legislating morality . . . that money, that time, that energy should be spent in making the city a place for all people. When our Supervisors are more concerned about tearing down a freeway than dental care for the elderly or child care centers; when our Supervisors are more concerned about MUNI drivers' benefits and not the least bit concerned about improving service for the riders; when our Supervisors are more concerned about building a multi-million dollar tourist and convention center instead of putting that money into an \"Operation Bootstrap\" to teach the unemployed of San Francisco skills so that there will not be the need to rely on the tourist for jobs; when our Supervisors realize that the best way to attract visitors is not through convention centers but through giving the people of San Francisco real job opportunity so that we can beat poverty; when such a consciousness takes place, when such a human sense of priorities gains hold, it will indeed be number one.\n\nWe can start immediately by giving the people of San Francisco and not the people who live in Marin first priorities. . . . we can start immediately be giving the people who live here and not the tourists first priorities. When we hire someone from outside the city to work for the city that person takes our tax money and spends it in Marin . . . he cannot be loyal towards the city for he does not live here. The rent he pays, the food he buys, the products for his home . . . all that is purchased with San Francisco tax money from business outside the city. He does not understand the problems of the city . . . how could he? . . . he does not live here at nighttime. To make the city a better place . . . to lower the city's unemployment rate, all city employees must be residents of the city. The policeman who works in the city during the day is not involved in the city's nighttime problems. Right now San Francisco has seen an increase in police force, an increase in police budget, an increase in stolen cars, an increase in burglary and a decrease in our population! Why? Two reasons: 1. many police do not live in the city . . . I never want to hear what I heard last week . . . a police officer in the downtown sector made this comment to me: \"I wouldn't live in this city if you paid me!\". . . We do pay him! The second reason is that half of the police budget and effort is wasted on trying to enforce victimless crime laws . . . that is trying to bring back Prohibition! All prohibition did was to create the greatest crime waves and syndicates the country has ever had. . . and it created a lot of murder. AND ALL IN THE NAME OF MORALITY!! Can't we learn? It was the moralist of the '20s that created Crime Inc., and now the same moralistic types are once again, in their blindness to force their morality on others, creating organized crime . . . can they not learn? Do they ever read history? Because of the failure of their family, of their church they are attempting to make the police force into ministers while crimes against victims increases . . . this false morality is against the Constitution. If they do not like the Constitution let them amend it. Let them scrap the Declaration of Independence and in the meantime let them go back to God with their morality and become ministers . . . true ministers. Instead of spending time trying to get the death penalty passed let them reread the Ten Commandments. Let them teach the Commandment: Thou Shall Not Kill. I know of no Commandment that says: Thou Shall Not Smoke Marijuana. I know of no Commandment that says: Thou Shall Not Read Dirty Books. I know of no Commandment that says: Thou Shall Not Walk Around Naked. Why are they such moralists when it comes to man-made Commandments and such anti-moralists when it comes to God's Commandments?\n\nLet me have my tax money go for my protection and not for my prosecution. Let my tax money go for the protection of me. Protect my home, protect my streets, protect my car, protect my life, protect my property. Let my minister worry about me playing bar dice. Let my minister and not some policeman worry about my moral life. Worry about gun control and not marijuana control . . . worry about dental care for the elderly and not about hookers . . . worry about child care centers and not what books I want to read . . . worry about becoming a human being and not about how you can prevent others from enjoying their lives because of your own inabilities to adjust to life.\n4\n\n\"An Open Letter to the Mayor of San Francisco\"\n\nPublic letter, September 22, 1973\n\nWere the power of public discourse alone sufficient to win elections, then Harvey Milk would have triumphed in his first bid for Board of Supervisors. However, most San Franciscans, including a large number within his own GLBTQ community, ignored or wrote off or deliberately opposed Milk's candidacy. Thus it was Milk's challenge not only to argue for his populist vision, but to argue for a platform itself, to use rhetorical artistry in order to attract audiences, to register and circulate in the minds of voters. Getting heard, Milk instinctively knew and better understood in 1973, was more complicated than slapping \"soap\" on the side of a box in the Castro and delivering a speech.\n\nBut Milk's political talent made him a quick study in the arts of publicity: putting Mayor Joseph Alioto on the spot, for instance, rather melodramatically, regarding fundamental democratic principles and electioneering. The irony of beseeching Mayor Alioto surely was not lost on Milk. Alioto, a socially conservative Italian-Catholic Democrat, had, during his mayoralty, vetoed legislation that would have legalized private sexual activity between consenting adults. He also had been responsible for the homophobic police crackdown on public sex in recent years that had resulted in arrests of thousands of gay men, causing the ruination and death of many. When Milk decried government's moral intrusions, Alioto might well have been his poster boy; he thought of him in the most derogatory terms, namely Nixonian. Alioto was a \"machine\" political official, a great champion of downtown corporate and tourist industry development, which Milk diametrically opposed. Just days before, in bitter denunciation of the proposed Yerba Buena Center, Milk called for a \"DECLARARTION OF WAR to rid the city of pockets of poverty and crime and to give the people a real chance to learn skills and trades that would make them self-sufficient, which in turn would reduce the unemployment rate, lower the crime rate, and thus bring about a lowering of the cost of government. This, indeed, would be a very real reason to bring tourists to our city.\" A year later Milk, in his \"Waves from the Left\" column in the Sentinel, would impugn the mayor, who had hired a \"Director of Information\" at a salary of $25,000 while \"unemployment rolls remain high,\" of harboring \"CONTEPMT for San Franciscans.\" During the police strike of 1975, Milk filed an unsuccessful class-action lawsuit in U.S. District Court against Alioto and SFPD officials for endangering the lives of the city's citizens by not providing for their protection.\n\n. . .\n\nDear Mr. Mayor,\n\nThe San Francisco Council of Democratic Clubs suspended democracy at their convention on September 2 1st. Their blatant disrespect for their own stated policy on speaking order was just rudeness . . . what makes me angry is their democratic system of voting. They \"conveniently\" encouraged their delegates to cast their votes early in the evening; before any of their \"unfavorite\" candidates were allowed to speak. At any convention I have ever attended, the delegates may have already made up their minds before they arrive, but they always listen to all speakers before they cast their ballots. Not so with these people. They invite you to speak . . . give you five minutes to declare your positions, presumably in order to make some kind of judgment. (The incumbents have had four years to make their comments.) Yet, they have this blatant disrespect for democracy by asking people to vote before any of the challengers are allowed to speak.\n\nContrary to the very principles of Democracy upon which these organizations are formed to support, the vote was being called for. Evidently, they care about democracy as much as John Mitchell cares about Justice! Why is it even necessary to have candidates come to speak before them, if they are going to treat candidates with this mockery they call \"democracy\"? And, I, as a life-long Democrat, had to wonder as I watched democracy grinding to a halt.\n\nThe San Francisco Black leadership Forum, The Chinese-American Citizens Alliance, and San Francisco Tomorrow are all out of the same mold . . . a few people controlling the representation of the many for their own power plays. They embarrass me. They make me ashamed to call myself a Democrat. They turn the very word, democracy, into a sham, a hoax, a lie.\n\nMr. Mayor, at a time when this nation so desperately needs honesty, it is sad to see the people of our city languishing in a sea of unfairness, especially from the hands of those who themselves call out for equal treatment. You seek to lead . . . (it is said you want to be Governor) . . . I ask you, in all seriousness: Will you walk with these clubs, clubs which are a mirror of back-room political prostitutes, clubs which use the name of democracy for their own corruption, or will you walk with the people?\n5\n\n\"MUNI\/Parking Garage\"\n\nPress release, September 27, 1973\n\nThe San Francisco Municipal Railway, known as MUNI, was, during Milk's residency in the city, the agency in charge of multimodal transit services. The \"Transit-First Policy,\" passed by the City Planning Commission and Board of Supervisors in this same year of Milk's first campaign, aimed to prioritize investment in public transportation as part of the city's development. Such a policy would have fit well with Milk's drive to achieve paramount quality of life for all San Franciscans. However, word and deed are not always aligned, as apparently had been the case with this policy for decades. Milk fought to ensure that the experience, and thus loyalty of MUNI passengers, would be valued, and their justified complaints addressed. If those bureaucrats and politicians were to make decisions that affected the lives of city residents to live among them rather than in the suburbs, and commute with them on MUNI rather than grid locking the city by driving to work and parking in those multiplying downtown garages, then all their lives might improve. Here MUNI constitutes another component in Milk's grassroots configuration of the stakes for San Francisco's future. In addition to this press release, Milk publicized the MUNI issue by collaboratively staging one of many public rallies, street performance that would become a staple of his rhetorical repertoire.\n\nMilk himself walked the walk, or rode the rails as it were, of this policy position, most notably during his commute to City Hall in 1978. On October 28, 2008, according to the Web site of the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency (SFMTA), streetcar No. 1051 was dedicated to \"the memory of human rights pioneer and transit advocate Supervisor Harvey Milk. Supervisor Milk was the first San Francisco Supervisor to regularly use a Fast Pass.\"\n\n. . .\n\nHARVEY MILK, Candidate for Supervisor, will continue to take his campaign to the people, holding the first of many planned street rallies Friday at 5:30, at CASTRO & 18\u2122 STREETS.\n\nCandidate MILK will attack the present MUNI service and will call for a CHAPTER AMENDMENT requiring the mayor, all MUNI inspectors, and especially all 11 Supervisors to ride MUNI every day to and from City Hall. At rally time, petitions will be initiated seeking the enactment of such an amendment. MILK feels that this seems to be the only way that the people of San Francisco will ever get better service from the present supervisors.\n\nCandidate MILK will further state that the recent voting record of the present Supervisors has been for the creation of even more garages in the downtown area. MILK contends that this will increase the number of cars entering the core area thus competing with MUNI for space on the already congested streets. This leaves little doubt in this candidate's mind as to where the present Supervisors have placed their loyalty: The garage owners once again triumph over the MUNI rider.\n\nHarvey Milk for Supervisor Headquarters: 575 Castro Street\/ 864-1390\n6\n\n\"Alfred Seniora\"\n\nPress release, September 28, 1973\n\nHarvey Milk likely concurred with William Shakespeare and Charles Dudley Warner's familiar notion that \"misery and politics make for strange bedfellows.\" Angered by the common practice in some San Francisco political clubs of voting for endorsements before all the candidates, especially minor candidates, had had their opportunity to speak, Milk sought to outfox his enemies; score a little retribution; and, most of all, get his platform heard by aligning, if only for purposes of the press spectacle, with a similarly \"silenced\" Republican counterpart, Alfred Seniora. As Milk dramatized in this and another press release, ideological differences can be put aside momentarily for the sake of fairness and justice in democratic process. Mr. Seniora proved to be not only an ironic juxtaposition and useful \"straight man\" in Milk's political theater, but something of a brief political boon when he \"borrowed\" and publicly espoused and circulated the \"gay candidate's\" campaign materials, and positions, as his own. Amid muddy criticism throughout the campaign that he wasn't serious, or was too gay, or was not gay enough, Milk must have felt somewhat vindicated by Mr. Seniora's rhetorical theft. Either way, his clever expose evidenced the resonance of his candidacy, even for a neophyte with liabilities canvassing uphill in blustery political winds.\n\n. . .\n\nOne of the great compliments of the current Supervisorial campaign was paid this week to HARVEY MILK by another candidate. ALFRED SENIORA printed, in the Wednesday issue of the SAN FRANCISCO PROGRESS, a 2\/3 page advertisement using as copy, almost verbatim, a letter that MILK sent to the Mayor on Monday and then signed his (SENIORA's) name to that letter . . . He further paid the additional and more important compliment to MILK by also printing in the ad most of MILK's platform positions in the form of a \"box score\" flyer which MILK created and has been using for almost two weeks.\n\nThe fact that MILK, a Jewish Democrat, now has his platform being used, almost intact, by a Republican, buries the issue of MILK's homosexuality. For if this conservative Republican is willing to put his name on almost the same letter that MILK mailed to the Mayor and also put his name on MILK's platform, then the Republican must feel that the issues are indeed far more important and that the need for a new direction in our leadership is far more important than MILK's homosexuality.\n\nMILK feels that, even as a non-monied candidate, if he has already made this kind of bridge in ideologies, that he does in fact, offer the people of San Francisco a strong leadership that will bring together people of different backgrounds and life styles.\n\nHARVEY MILK FOR SUPERVISOR HEADQUARTERS: 575 CASTRO ST. \/ 864-1390\n7\n\n\"Who Really Represents You\"\n\nCampaign flyer, September 1973\n\nMilk's impressive if unsuccessful performance in his first campaign for supervisor, garnering 16,900 votes and finishing tenth in a citywide field of thirty-two candidates (had Milk's desired implementation of district elections occurred, he would have emerged victorious; Proposition K failed by a two to one margin) must be attributable in some significant sense to his tireless canvassing of the city. Well beyond the more familiar environs of his Castro neighborhood, on sidewalks and buses, in shopping centers and throughout the financial district, Milk sought out the electorate in an embodied way, to look a voter in the eye, to have a conversation, to debate an issue, to make an impression that might belie homophobic abstraction and perform his populism. Such hand shaking, stumping, and photo opportunism are, of course, the standard currency of political exchange in a campaign season. However, insofar as Milk's person and platform veered from such straight and narrow paths, by temperament and necessity, his polling of voters appeared to take a different cast; his interest in \"your view,\" solicited directly and in campaign fliers such as this one, was meant to be constitutive of voter agency and his own voice as a legislator. Milk castigated incumbent Supervisors, all victorious, for election-year lip service to peoples' concerns, only to baldly contradict them in subsequent votes, as their records evidenced. He saw himself enacting, as he told the Advocate, \"Jeffersonian democracy as stated by Lincoln: Of the people, by the people, for the people, and not a Nixonian philosophy that stands for a government of the few, by the few, and for the few.\"\n\n. . .\n\nCHECK WHERE YOU STAND . . . WHICH ISSUES ARE MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU? WHO COMES CLOSER TO YOUR OVERALL STAND?\n\nWho really represents YOU?\n\n8\n\n\"Milk Note\"\n\nColumn, Vector, February 1, 1974\n\nA month before his defeat in the fall of 1973, Milk reasserted in the pages of the Advocate his vision of a gay candidacy and its significance. \"To see and hear a gay legislator argue for people and individual rights changes the images overnight and brings respect to all Gays.\" From his perspective, those gay establishment politicos in the Alice B. Toklas Memorial Democratic Club and elsewhere who aggressively worked to thwart his campaign\u2014those who in this editorial for SIR, of which Milk was a member and served on its publicity committee, he would memorably dub \"Aunt Marys,\" that is, sell-outs or traitors in toadying complicity with oppressive power\u2014errantly believed that patient and loyal electoral support of heterosexual liberals would better the lives of GLBTQ people. After all, candidates and the media during the campaign recognized the influential presence of the \"Gay Vote,\" and a number of politicians courted it by attending events hosted by Toklas, touring gay bars, and commenting on gay issues.\n\nIn this case, according to this political logic, Dianne Feinstein, whose vote total returned her to the Board presidency and who acknowledged GLBTQ contributors as her largest, would be relied upon as an ally to appoint liberals to key Board committees with the power to advance gay rights in material ways. By contrast, Milk saw in straight politicians only empty pledges, forgotten promises and half measures, mere \"crumbs\" for the price of votes, donations, and dignity. Echoing the Civil Rights Movement, as he often did, Milk rejected gradualism for the immediatism of freedom, achievable if only his community would empower itself by coming out and coming together to elect their own, to use its voting bloc and economic might as political influence, and to forge deeper solidarity with each other and in coalitions with other groups. In response to San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen's sardonic question, \"What do these people WANT?\" Milk exclaimed, \"I want freedom for gay people. . . . I reach out to my gay brothers and sisters. I reach out so we can grab each other's hand and fight for what God and the Constitution has given us and man has taken away from us.\"\n\nThat Milk's vision would remain consistent into 1974, through the postmortem of his first campaign (he was already planning his run in 1975), indeed throughout the remainder of his political career and life, tells us much about his fortitude and optimism, his determination and drive, his unshakeable belief in GLBTQ freedom that would yet come.\n\n. . .\n\nJanuary 9 marks the anniversary of the birth of Richard Nixon. January 15 marks the anniversary of the birth of Martin Luther King, Jr. One man has divided a nation\u2014he lives. One man united a people\u2014he was killed for that! The irony.\n\nDr. King was much criticized for \"moving too fast.\" His answer to that was total dissatisfaction with the \"halting and inadequate attempts of (this) society to catch up with the basic rights of membership in the human family . . . (that black people were) no longer tolerant of or interested in compromise.\"\n\nHe saw that the only way the blacks were to gain\/win their rights as citizens was to seek not mere survival but full success . . . full citizenship. The implication was broad . . . with the incorporation of blacks into national life, not only were blacks free to offer their full creative contribution to society, but the whites were challenged to reconsider the roles by which they lived. He was uniting the blacks to wield the strength of their numbers in evident blocs of consumers, audiences and votes!\n\nThe longest and most deeply suppressed of all groups refuses to learn from history. In order for homosexuals to win our right to self respect and equality, we must first assert our full existence and then its strength. One of the major differences between homosexuals and other suppressed groups is identification . . . the blacks cannot hide. . . . the homosexual can melt into society. Open avowal of homosexuality is necessary for gays in every walk of life, most significantly of homosexuals in respected and necessary positions. Most homosexuals live in constant fear of discovery . . . the only way to combat this form of oppression is to seek success . . . to join with all other homosexuals and to identify oneself as oppressed . . . the open homosexual opts for full citizenship!\n\nThe black was never to gain freedom while he was lead by \"Uncle Toms.\" The homosexual will never gain freedom while he is lead by \"Aunt Marys.\" These are the people who, for whatever personal reasons, tell us that \"we never had it so good\" and brag about the \"crumbs\" thrown to homosexuals. They talk about these \"crumbs\" as if they were the Bill of Rights. They disregard the fact that oppression, real oppression, remains rampant and we remain \"criminals\" under the law. They brag about the \"crumbs\" given to homosexuals when the issue is FREEDOM. As soon as the gay community gets rid of the Aunt Marys and puts together their strength in blocs of consumers and votes, as Martin Luther King was doing with the blacks, we will remain oppressed and used.\n\nBut the gay community remains ineffective because of the Aunt Marys and those who remain hidden in their closet and opt to win their rights as citizens by living in constant fear of discovery. The blacks because of their color had no choice . . . remain oppressed or band together so that they ALL could win respectability. The gay community remains oppressed! The Aunt Marys and \"those who never had it so good\" keep it that way. The answer is for those who really want to win respectability, not only for themselves but for all homosexuals, to fight much harder. To use their influence to combat not only straight oppression but the sell-out by so many gay \"leaders.\" Someday, somewhere a gay consciousness will take hold and true \"gay power\" will emerge . . . it will take time, it will bring inconveniences, it will bring bitterness, it will bring hardships, it will bring FREEDOM.\n9\n\n\"Anyone Can Be a Movie Critic: How Not to Find Leadership\"\n\nEditorial, San Francisco Crusader, February 1974\n\nHarvey Milk was far from a political dove toting an olive branch in the wake of a deluge of gay establishment animus that surely cost him votes in 1973. After all, the title of a commentary by radical gay rights activist and publisher Ray Broshears, in the previous issue of the San Francisco Gay Crusader, suggests reason enough for retributive motive: \"Why Milk Lost: Our 'Milk' Wasn't Delivered on Election Day . . . Some Gay Blades Cut the Cartons Open!\" Milk and Toklas leader Jim Foster would remain political enemies throughout his career; in his tape-recorded political will, played after his assassination, Milk delivered a posthumous come-uppance by smiting Foster as a potential successor with the damning judgment, \"The Jim Fosters never understood the movement.\" Harvey, like any politician, certainly knew how to get even.\n\nHowever, because Milk did understand the movement, he managed time and again to accommodate political ill will and opposition, especially among his own people, keeping his eye on the prize. As he recounted in an interview the same month that this editorial in the Gay Crusader appeared, \"About a month ago a respectable middle-aged man told me, 'I voted for you but I hate your guts.' He is a businessman who conceals his homosexuality. I made him think about that. He wants to help me if I run again. . . . when some young kid comes up to me and says, 'Thank You,' that is the most important thing.\" For Milk, who had already begun to look forward to the next campaign the following year, leadership required that one overcome the slights  and carping and get on with the business of political transformation. As this editorial argues\u2014and similar appeals appeared prominently in his Sentinel and Bay Area Reporter columns during 1974\u2014debilitating jealousy, bitterness, and hate, focusing on others' shortcomings, and undermining the efforts within the GLBTQ community, would only enable those homophobic forces that oppressed them. Turning toward rather than turning on each other, achieved through able leadership, was the key to this or any movement: \"If all that negative energy was united and turned into a positive force there would indeed be heard a cry that would lead to freedom.\"\n\nSurely this idea of opposing the \"real enemy,\" to use his phrase, and not one another, must have been on Milk's mind as he picketed the film Laughing Policeman, starring Walter Matthau, for its homophobic representation of gay male villainy, a protest action organized by the Gay Activists Alliance\u2014the impetus for this editorial.\n\n. . .\n\nOne hundred people seeing the same movie can come out with one hundred different views. If those one hundred people are negative people there will be one hundred negative comments on that film. If they are positive people there will be one hundred positive comments on that film. For every film ever made has good points and bad points. The negative mind will search out and find the faults. The positive mind will search out and find the good points. That makes the film neither good nor bad. It only makes the film good or bad to each viewer based upon his or her own reference towards life in general. Those who search for the bad point, the fault, the error, the mistake, will never let anything sway them from emphasizing what is wrong. The opposite is also true. People are generally either positive or negative and when we hear their comments we usually take that into consideration and automatically discount some of their comment.\n\nYet, when a person talks about a \"leader\" we somehow do not discount the frame of mind of the \"viewer.\" And a person\/leader is a lot more apt to make mistakes than any movie . . . for no one has the chance to edit over and over his actions and speeches the way a film is edited before it is released. We somehow expect a human being to be more perfect than a film. We allow a play to have weeks of out-of-town showings before it moves to the big city, yet we hang on every word and action of our leaders and allow them no margin for human error, for correction. When a person comments upon a leader, we never say to ourselves, \"That person is a negative force and will naturally find the mistakes of the leader and harp on it.\" Nor do we say that the person is a positive person and will look only at the good a leader does and overlook all faults. One reason why so many people in this nation today accept Nixon as a good president is that they are people who will only search for the good that he has done and overlook all his faults.\n\nWhat must be done is to look at both the good and the wrong a person does and weigh it out. For them, there are no \"perfect\" leaders . . . no Christs . . . no Gods leading us today. We must find for ourselves what we want and who represents us \"best\" and not try to find out who represents us \"totally.\" For in the end, the only person who fully and completely represents us is ourselves. If we expect to find one other person who is exactly like ourselves, we are in for trouble. We are in for 1984!\n\nWhen we find this and that wrong with anyone who could lead us where we want to go, the final result is that we end up in the wrong place, for we drive away many potential leaders by asking them to become all things to all people. How can one person represent all views at the same time? And yet we chastise the leader for not being exactly like us. In a small community there can be a true \"town hall meeting,\" but in a city, a state, a nation it is impossible . . . and we seek the impossible. Maybe the church is to blame for telling us that only GOD can lead us and then putting mortals in positions of leadership.\n\nFor whatever the reasons may be, there always seems to be more infighting, bitching and rottenness among gay brothers and sisters than among our straight neighbors. Maybe the rejection of homosexuals by the straight world causes homosexuals to try to be superior to other suppressed people . . . and thus comes the rejection of homosexuals by homosexuals. The snobbery, the attitudes, the comments made by gays about other gays is not to be found in any other suppressed group. The jealousy, the enviousness that gays have for other gays is incredible. It is all negative force. It is the tearing down rather than the building up. This gay \"leader\" is jealous of what that gay \"leader\" is doing, and he in turn is bitchy toward others. Rather than for all to lead and encourage others to lead so that we all can win what we want, we spend more time and effort in fighting each other than in fighting the forces of oppression. If all that negative energy was united and turned into a positive force there would indeed be heard a cry that would lead to freedom.\n\nThe first step towards this must be at the very least a cessation of bitterness towards leaders and groups that have differences from each other. Picture every straight club, church, society and organization spending most of their time fighting and bitching [at] each other. There is indeed always room for different views . . . different thoughts . . . different opinions. No one person, no one group, is wrong. The idea is for all to be able to express their own views . . . to do what they feel must be done . . . for there is only one way to go, and that is to gain freedom. Any energy spent looking for the negative in another person or group is energy wasted from gaining freedom for all homosexuals. It is easy to hate. It is easy to bitch. It is easy to find fault. It is hard to find the strength to love.\n\nLeadership is needed. Joint leadership is needed. Many leaders are needed. Bitching is not needed. Jealousy is not needed. Hate is not needed. We are still a long way from freedom. Until we get freedom there is no room for self-destruction. The goal is freedom. Anyone who fights for that is needed; no matter how he fights, just as long as he fights the suppression! If he is so busy fighting other homosexuals, then HE is keeping us from attaining freedom just as much as the straight oppressor is.\n\nA new era must take place. If joining of arms unfortunately cannot yet be achieved, then at least the stopping of self-destruction must take place. The greatest weapon, the greatest tool that our straight oppressor has to keep us oppressed is the incredible energy spent by homosexuals tearing each other apart. Some one leader, some one group must start by turning the other cheek and finding the strength of love rather than the need of hate.\n10\n\n\"Letter to the City of San Francisco Hall of Justice on Police Brutality\"\n\nPublic letter, February 14, 1974\n\nHomophobic discrimination and violence by the police department, often fostered by malignant political aspirations, are as old as the history of GLBTQ San Francisco itself, recurrent and predictable as the ebb and flow of tides. It is also the case that such state-sanctioned bullying and bashing in the city spurred some of the earliest developments in GLBTQ activism and movement anywhere in the United States, from the political nascence of Jose Sarria to the founding of the League for Civil Education, Society for Individual Rights, Council on Religion and the Homosexual, and the National Transsexual Counseling Unit.\n\nRecent years had been noticeably turbulent, owing to GLBTQ migration into Most Holy Redeemer Parish, as well as Mayor Alioto's self-aggrandizement by means of catering to the homophobic bigotry of the Catholic Church. The year 1974 was particularly bad, with its rash of raids and trumped-up charges for public sex and drunkenness, drug possession, blocking sidewalks, and then, after the beatings, resisting arrest. The harassment crested with a bloody clash between a crowd of gay men and police (with their badges deliberately and cravenly obscured) outside Toad Hall bar during Labor Day weekend. Those who would be dubbed the \"Castro 14\" defied their indictments, and Milk's public efforts at raising a defense fund and organizing outraged community response, through his Sentinel and Bay Area Reporter columns and personal conversations, forged more deeply his commitment and status as a gay and neighborhood activist. His rally cry, \"I pay taxes for police to protect me, not persecute me,\" amplified his now frequent call for GLBTQ Political Power. In this open letter from earlier in the year, Milk deployed the Holocaust trope\u2014used by the previous generation of GLBTQ activists and which would become one of his own favored rhetorical frames in future fights with Anita Bryant and John Briggs\u2014to dramatize homophobic police brutality and seek solidarity with those heterosexuals who might also become victims of licensed governmental assault.\n\n. . .\n\nThere are those in our community who claim that police brutality does not exist . . . that police harassment of gays does not exist . . . and I ask why? Why in the face of facts do they maintain that posture? The answer is that they do not want to know that it exists because once they accept its existence they then have to condone or commend police brutality! And, since they want neither to come out in favor of it nor to attack the establishment, they have to become the ostrich and stick their heads into the dirt\u2014and see no evil. That is exactly what happened in Nazi Germany in the '30s. The German people did not see what was happening to the Jews, for, if they admitted that it was happening, then they would have had to take sides. So, the Germans did not know for they did not want to know. Unfortunately, after Hitler eliminated the Jews, he then eliminated the gypsies, then the Catholics, and then one group after another until he had turned the entire nation into a police state where the children were turning their parents in for just talking about the establishment. It had gotten out of hand, those people who would not acknowledge police brutality against the Jews found that they themselves ended up on the list because once the cancer festered, it spread. There were not privileged people or classes. The same can happen in this nation. If police brutality against homosexuals is allowed to take place it will spread to other groups until a police state exists . . . no one will be spared. In Nazi Germany many people said that police brutality was just against the Jews who were undesirable anyway . . . in San Francisco many people say that the police brutality is only against the homosexuals who are undesirables anyway. In Germany after the Jews were beaten brutality became unchecked and group after group fell victim to its force. Once we allow the police force to release hostility against homosexuals by violence then it will soon spread to other people . . . the police state will be evolving . . . the Nixonian philosophy as expressed by the corrupt former Attorney General Mitchell will take hold. We must learn from history . . . the Germans who hated Jews and allowed the Jews to be beaten should have fought for Jewish freedom. For in fighting for the Jews they would have in reality been fighting for their own freedom! When they did not, they gave up their own freedom! The people of San Francisco who hate homosexuals must fight with the homosexual against police brutality. If they do not they are allowing their own freedom to be encroached upon and they will in turn one day find that they too are becoming victims of the police state. But, it will be too late, for there will be no one to help them. As long as we are able to fight now, we must all band together to fight for common freedom before the police silences us one group at a time. It is not a case of police brutality against homosexuals\u2014it is a case of police brutality! It was not just a case of Hitler against the Jews\u2014it was a case of Hitler against humanity. There is no way that the straight can say there is no police brutality just because they do not want to become involved. They must read history books on Nazi Germany. It is a fight against the festering disease that encompasses all people, whether they wish to be involved or not.\n11\n\n\"Where I Stand\"\n\nArticle draft, Sentinel, March 28, 1974\n\nTo be a maverick is, in political terms, to be ungovernable, demonstrably independent in perspective and platform, beholden only to one's own principles, and rhetorically unfettered. Although with eventual success four years on (some have argued throughout his campaigns), Milk, like all elected politicians, would become constrained by the very system he hoped to transform, during his political ascendancy, always a struggle, Milk unabashedly and unapologetically embodied the maverick. Of course this had earned him the political ambivalence if not enmity of groups as diverse as the moderate Alice B. Toklas Memorial Gay Democratic Club and the radical Leftist organization, Bay Area Gay Liberation, not to mention the rest of the Democratic Party, prefiguring the larger-scale showdown in his 1976 bid for the California Assembly, which he advertised as \"Milk vs. The Machine.\" Such a political and rhetorical modality, as Milk articulates in this editorial, allows for seeming contradictions, standing on the Right and the Left, depending on the issue, guided not by party lines but rather abiding the line by line of trusted political philosophy and founding documents. One might, for instance, cite a papal denunciation such as Defensor Pacis while endorsing for State Assembly an activist Catholic priest who had welcomed the Black Panthers into Sacred Heart church in the Mission District and marched with Martin Luther King, Jr., and Cesar Chavez, while also publicly criticizing the Catholic Chavez for his homophobia. Milk's sensitivity here to the freedom of speech, to the limits of representation and the pitfalls of ideological certitude, bespeaks the virtues of independence that makes a maverick at once so alluring and appalling, political boon and bane.\n\n. . .\n\nAn explanation is needed . . . \"Waves from the Left\" . . . \"On the Right Side.\" What do they mean? Far Right? Far Left? Left of Center? etc., etc. To the dictator, American conservatism is from the Left, and, likewise, to the pure Communist, American socialism is from the Right! The people who feel that only they can represent the Left or the Right are the same types who are for freedom of speech as long as it is speech that they agree with. Witness what took place at a recent Board of Supervisors meeting . . . when one supervisor, who is well known for his \"views from the Right\" verbally pinned a \"liberal\" spokesman up against the wall for a letter written and signed several years ago, the \"liberals\" in the back of the chambers hooted and yelled and exercised a lesson in childish or revolutionary behavior. All regards for equality in freedom of speech went out the window. After all, they lost some points in the argument and thus, rather than resort to intelligent answers, took up the \"drown 'em out\" philosophy . . . Yet these same liberals who would not allow freedom of speech are the first to complain about unrepresentative government. To this group, anyone who does not see eye to eye with them is from the Right. They probably would rather not win than to give in and work through the government. They sometimes appear to want to be on the losing side, so they can be martyrs. Thus, if winning seems possible, they will even come up with the expression . . . \"we are not ready for victory. What happens if we win?\" Unbelievable as that may be, that was not the stand taken. There are some people who would rather be for a losing cause, for winning does not satisfy their needs. I do not belong to that school of thought. That's why to many of those people I am not from the \"Left.\" Extreme Left I am not, I am from the Left as was Truman and Stevenson. I believe in many of the same things that those on the extreme Left believe in. Our methods of gaining them differ. I believe in many things those on the Right believe in. Our methods of gaining them differ.\n\nThose who claim to speak from the true Left or the true Right are usually people who are not committed to wanting to win. For the only way any extreme group has ever won is by revolution and I'm not ready for that yet . . . try as hard as Nixon does to make me lean that way. There have been very few revolutions that were successful and most of them were in an age long gone. For those who represent the extreme Left and Right, I suggest that they read MARSILIUS OF PADDUA\u2014The Defender of Peace. He lived in the early 14th Century.\n\nI cannot regard myself as from the extreme Left. I stand with the conservative in this nation who is for freedom of individual! The true conservative\u2014politically, not morally\u2014is for the end of victimless crime laws. I stand in agreement with that. Where does the extreme Left stand on that principle?\n\nThe \"liberal\" that I run into so often wants the government to do everything. I disagree. I think that the government does too much. The government started a war in Viet Nam. The government spends millions of dollars in the war against dope. The government spends millions of dollars to put homosexuals in jail for sex crimes. The government runs computer checks on its citizens. I have had enough governmental control in many areas. If that makes me not so far from the Left, well, so be it. Let those on the Left stand up for big daddy doing it all. When you allow the government to get too powerful there are always encroachments. I think that the government should spend more time caring about hospitals, schools and homes and less time caring about the books we read, the movies we go to, the things we put into our own bodies and the acts of sex we may commit. I think the government has long lost its way from being what a government should be . . . I think that everyone in government from those on the Left to those on the Right, and especially those in elite office should reread the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Then read the papers that went into the arguments on the Constitution. Next they should skip to today and see what they believe in. If that happened, then we would not find \"liberals\" shouting down Supervisors and, more importantly, we would not find Supervisors being in the position of causing themselves to be shouted down. I think our government is deficient . . . I think that almost all our \"leaders\" are deficient. I think that we need people in our government and not politicians, and certainly, we don't need people in office who so quickly resort to name calling and who are only willing to accept their own personal views allowing no others. How can any one person \"represent\" all people? Looking for that, we arrive at 1984. There are people from the Left and people from the Right living in each and every city and state. There is no way that only one person could represent both views on all issues. To demand only your view is wrong. To remember what government is about is primary. To lead is needed. We will never be able to achieve what we indeed can achieve if we insist on only \"our way.\"\n\nSo where do I stand? I stand about as far Left or as far Right as you see me, depending upon where you are standing. I stand with Stevenson and Truman on many issues. I stand with the spirit of revolution that took place about two hundred years ago. I stand disgusted with most of our political \"leaders\" . . . the Nixons, the Reagans, the Aliotos, the Forans. That is why I turn to people like Father Boyle. I stand for a government which regards the human being as more important than a highway, which regards a hospital as more important than a bomb. Maybe I'm on the Left. Maybe I'm on the Right. Read Marsilius. Read the Constitution. But no matter where you think I stand . . . I stand for winning and that is an important difference between an extremist and myself. The blacks won the right to ride anywhere on the buses in Birmingham for the wrong reasons . . . but they won!\n12\n\n\"Where There Is No Victim, There Is No Crime\"\n\nPress release, April 1, 1974\n\nOne of the noteworthy aspects of Harvey Milk's political career was the consistency with which he held, developed, and stumped on behalf of issues he believed mattered and the larger vision that encompassed them. Milk's outrage about the corrupted priorities of elected officials was no mere provocation for a solitary campaign season. Milk repeats here in part verbatim and extends his arguments about the true victims of miscreant morality merged with politics, and those officials divorced from the lived experience of the city who regulate it with their wasteful and costly policing and prosecution. Milk had a rhetorical talent for damning juxtaposition, creating perspective by incongruity through figures such as cowardly officer O'shaughnessy and those \"deviant\" prostitutes, pot smokers, and queers he harassed, all the while on vacant police beats throughout the city it was open season for burglars, rapists, and murderers. Such framings challenged a cheap and vicious moral economy heavily bankrolled by tax dollars and governed by compromised bureaucrats, and they reconfigured the conditions and enactments of justice.\n\nMilk would never abandon his fight against the criminalization of homosexuality (or other victimless \"offenses\"). Surely his advocacy, richly exhibited in this press release, contributed to the momentum that resulted in the 1975 passage of Assemblyman Willie Brown's hard-won California AB489, Consenting Adult Sex Law, which repealed the state sodomy law. He also influenced State Senator George Moscone, who ensured AB489's success, and who would institutionalize the curtailment of prosecutions for victimless crimes when he became mayor in 1976.\n\n. . .\n\nWe have heard a lot this afternoon about the high costs to all taxpayers, especially the homeowner and renter, of police enforcement of victimless crime laws. There is another high cost that cannot be \"statistically\" computed. Not too long ago, several members of our famed vice squad rented rooms in the Hilton and called up prostitutes from East Bay. They made a great deal of busting these women. We can compute the cost in policemen hours, hotel rooms, and so forth that went into this great act of police heroism. What we cannot add up in dollars and cents is the cost to a young woman who, at the very same time, was raped on Castro and 20th street because there was no police on patrol. While viceman O'shaughnessy was \"protecting\" our city from crime by drinking in the Hilton and calling up East Bay prostitutes, one of the citizens that he was supposed to be protecting was raped in our city streets.\n\nHow many homes are burglarized while our vice squad hunts prostitutes in hotel rooms? How many cars are stolen while our vice squad spends hours lurking in men's toilets? How many elderly are mugged while our brave police are beating up homosexuals? What is the cost in stolen property? Stolen cars? What is the cost in increased insurance rates? What is the cost in increased burglary alarm equipment? What is the cost in added private security policemen? And, all because we allow our police force to spend hours after hours pursuing crimes where there is no victim. How many men do we have tracking down homicides? All of 17! How many do we have in the Hilton and men's toilets tracking down homosexuals! Our great defenders of peace and law and order. Ask the wife of a murder victim if this is a proper use of our police!\n\nWhat is the cost in the new fears of mugged victims? What is the cost to the women who have been raped? All because [people] like O'shaughnessy feel \"safer\" busting gays than going after real criminals who might, in turn, show him that he is nothing but a coward.\n\nAnd why does all this happen?\n\nOne: the police apparently don't want to, or can't catch real criminals for they are basically afraid to walk the beats at night in crime areas. Afraid that they may have to come face to face with a criminal in carrying out their duty to protect the city and its people. Thus, in order to get their statistics of arrests high enough and to \"prove\" to themselves how brave they are, they resort to the manly and dangerous acts of busting prostitutes and entrapment of gays.\n\nThe second reason is because of our leaders. Our political, ministerial, educational, and parental leaders all have failed in their efforts to teach morality and make themselves moral examples. Because some \"influential\" people have families that are unstable, because their own church has failed its mission to install decency, because their chosen politicians have failed to prove themselves worthy of emulation, these modern day moralists are attempting to make the police guardians and ministers of morality while serious crimes against victims continue unabated. Our modern moralists are like their cousins of the '20s, revitalizing crime: organized crime! For out of the moralists who forced prohibition on us was created the greatest crime waves and crime syndicate this nation has ever known. In the name of morality the prohibitionist created Murder Inc. Today we have the same thing happening. And this false morality violates the freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution\u2014the separation of church and state!\n\nIf these moralists do not like the Constitution, let them amend it in a legal manner. Let them scrap the Bill of Rights and, in turn, let them go back to God with their morality and become ministers\u2014true ministers. Instead of spending time trying to get the death penalty passed, let them remember the Ten Commandments. Let them teach the Commandment: Thou shalt not kill. Where is the commandment that says: Thou shalt not smoke marijuana? Where is the commandment that says: Thou shalt not read dirty books? Where is the commandment that says: Thou shalt not be naked? Why are these moralists so zealous in the application of man-made Commandments and so strangely apathetic when it comes to the Commandments of God?\n\nLet my tax money go for my protection and not my prosecution. Protect my home, my streets, protect my property, protect my life. Let my minister and not some policeman worry about my morality. Let our mayor worry about gun control and not about marijuana control. Let our mayor worry about dental care for the elderly and not about what books others may want to read. Let our mayor worry about becoming a human being and not about how to prevent others from enjoying their lives. Where there is no victim there is no crime! The gays who are entrapped have to pay the costs of Alioto's false morality. Where there is no victim there is no crime! Our leaders' sense of priorities is out of order. Alioto, Scott, O'shaughnessy and all the others should become ministers if they are so worried about morality. Let us have a real mayor, real police who want to stop crime against victims. Where there is no victim there is no crime!\n13\n\n\"Political Power\"\n\nArticle draft, Sentinel, May 23, 1974\n\nAlthough Milk himself was not running for office in 1974, that season's races provided an opportunity to expand upon his political vision for the GLBTQ community. As he had argued during his supervisorial campaign the previous year, if only GLBTQ people would overcome their differences and infighting to align in solidarity against those who prevent their full equality, to vote as a bloc to influence elections and thereby make a statement, to elect their own, to use their economic capital, then they would see the expansive rewards of political power. Milk repeatedly pointed out that heterosexual politicians, exemplified by Supervisor Dianne Feinstein, courted the \"gay vote\" at campaign events but once in office predictably failed to live up to their progressive lip service. The impending vote in the 16th Assembly District heightened Milk's agitation in this regard, and he challenged the sincerity of candidate John Foran's sudden interest in gay rights after having not supported Assemblyman Willie Brown's Consensual Sex Act, which would repeal the century-old statute criminalizing sodomy. In order to deliver a bloc vote, and pointed message, against ballot-weather political \"friends,\" the GLBTQ community needed first to mobilize. Thus Milk's call for political power included a battle plan for volunteerism, voter registration, and consolidated endorsements and votes that would not only make a difference in this election but in future elections, gesturing toward his own campaign in 1975. Three such editorials appeared during this week, here in the Sentinel as well as in the Bay Area Reporter and in The Voice of the Gay Students Coalition at San Francisco State University, for whom he entitled his article, \"One Hour a Week, For a Year, To Win Our Rights.\"\n\n. . .\n\nOn Tuesday, May 7th, Officer Fernandez of the Mission Street Police Station came into my shop and told me that if the gays have any complaints about anything, the only way that such complaints will be heard is if we use POLITICAL POWER.\n\nOn Wednesday, May 8th, at a meeting of concerned citizens in the Eureka Valley area which centered around the issue of \"straights\" vs. \"gays,\" one of the most vocal leaders of the parents' groups called for getting rid of the \"gay problem\" by forces, or, if need be, by use of their POLITICAL POWER and that they, the straights, had the muscle to use such POLITICAL POWER.\n\nWe are told that if we want anything, we need POLITICAL POWER. We are threatened that if we don't mend our ways, POLITICAL POWER will be used against us.\n\nThe time has come for the gay community to answer. In the past, we have helped elect people to public office, and, once elected, they have not come to our aid one bit. We have been wooed with pretty words and gotten only pretty smiles in return. The time has come to take the advice of the straight community and show our POLITICAL POWER.\n\nPOLITICAL POWER can be shown only in a real vote\u2014a joint vote of all gays\u2014upfront, closet, liberal, conservative, Republican, Democratic . . . all gays once! If we show our total vote strength once, we never have to do it again. We can then return to our many splinter positions. But for once we must drop all our differences and join together and show the actual power we can muster if need be.\n\nBased upon surveys, only about 40%\u201355% of the gay community is registered to vote. We must register the remaining percentage. We must do it now.\n\nIf we do that, we then can use that huge bloc of votes, added to those who are already registered, as leverage. We will then have what we are told we need, POLITICAL POWER.\n\nHow can we do this? We need a small army of registrars\u2014approximately 100 gay persons\u2014who are willing to devote all of one hour per week for the next year, to go out and register our gay brothers and sisters. What a price to pay: about 50 hours of work spread over one year. What a small price to pay for so large a gain! And, for the most part, we will even be paid for doing that registration!\n\nThus I call upon all in the gay community who want to help achieve a voice that indeed will be not only be heard, but listened to, to meet at 7pm on Wednesday, June 5th, at my shop\u2014575 Castro Street. That is the day after the primary election. What a perfect time to start.\n\nWe are told time and time again by the straight community that we have to achieve POLITICAL POWER if we want anything. I'm for so doing. I ask you to help form a working task force. If you are willing to help in any way . . . if you are committed to Gay Civil Rights . . . if you believe . . . then the time has come . . . it is long overdue.\n\nWe can help somewhat in the coming primary on June 6th by voting for those who are running and have taken outspoken stands on Gay Civil Rights . . . the race for governor leaves only one person among the leaders who has taken such a stand: Bob Moretti. The race for the 16th Assembly leaves only one man: Gene Boyle. Also, consider I ask you to stand by Ed Cragen for Superior Court Judge.\n14\n\n\"Letter to the San Francisco Chronicle about Anti-Gay Editorials\"\n\nDraft, July 1, 1974\n\nThe post-Stonewall annual ritual of marking \"gay pride\" and the gay rights movement began in San Francisco on June 28, 1970, with a small march by transsexuals down Polk Street, followed that afternoon by the Christopher Street Liberation Day (after its namesake in New York) \"gay-in\" by hundreds in Golden Gate Park. The theme that year was \"Gay Freedom Revolution,\" and after a year's hiatus the Gay Freedom Day festival and parade returned for good in 1972. The theme for the festival in 1974 was \"Gay Freedom by '76,\" attended by an estimated 60,000, with a parade wending through Grant, O'Farrell, and Polk Streets, culminating in a celebration at the Civic Center. Best known is Milk's appearance and speech during the 1978 Gay Freedom Day, as well as that iconic image of Milk on the parade route, holding a sign saying, \"I'm from Woodmere, N.Y.\"\u2014a sign he encouraged everyone to bring that year, as he put it in his \"Milk Forum\" column in the Bay Area Reporter, so as to \"come out to your hometown\" and prove that GLBTQ people are from everywhere in the United States. But Milk had long enjoyed the festival and understood its political importance. He also knew well the value of the media and proved from the beginning of his political career to be savvy and skilled in the art of enticing, provoking, and manipulating the San Francisco press. Milk was unafraid to throw down the gauntlet with the San Francisco Chronicle, a challenge amplified here by his personification of the paper, indictment of the offending reporter, and patriotic framing of both the event and its homophobic rendering. Milk also knew that such a clash would make good copy.\n\n. . .\n\nDear Editor,\n\nThe fourth of July celebrates an event that, to many people, not only in this country, but throughout the world, stood for the shedding of oppression. The homosexual community is the last minority group in this country that has received no Civil Rights. Last Sunday, we marched not only on the streets of San Francisco, but in many cities in this nation from New York to Anchorage. We marched for several reasons: to show other homosexuals that the time is now for them to come out and to show our straight oppressors that the time is now for them to no longer deny our civil rights.\n\nThe news article written by your person on the parade here in San Francisco was not a news article but an editorial. How can that writer know what the parade means unless he is homosexual? How can that writer understand oppression unless he is homosexual? How do you allow news articles to become editorials? Does that article mean that the Chronicle's editorial position stands for a continued put down of homosexuals? Does that article mean that the Chronicle still regards every homosexual as a criminal? Does the Chronicle stand for continued repression and oppression of homosexuals?\n\nThe time is now for the Chronicle, the political leaders if this city, the \"moral\" leaders of this city, the business leaders of this city, and the people of this city to either end their discrimination of homosexuals or have the \"manly\" guts to come out and say that they remain bigots.\n\nThere may have been fun in the parade, no more or no less than in the Shriners Parades . . . there may have been too much fun for some people . . . but I'll opt for that anytime given the choice between that way of life and the way of life that the Chronicle has so strongly endorsed . . . the election of Richard Nixon.\n\nIf the Chronicle wished to know what the parade meant, it shouldn't have sent some uptight bigot to editorialize it . . . just ask the many who carried American flags in the parade. The bearing of the American flags and the demand for Gay Civil Rights was apparently too much for your reporter's narrow mind.\n\nI repeat: does the Chronicle stand for Civil Rights for all Citizens or does the Chronicle stand for the continued prejudice of homosexuals?\n15\n\n\"Library or Performing Arts Center\"\n\nPress release, December 4, 1974\n\nThis press release advocating on behalf of the public library was printed on Castro Village Association letterhead, signed by CVA President Harvey Milk. Although this was not a campaign year for Milk, it was politically significant for his successful effort at mobilizing the GLBTQ community under his self-crafted banners of \"Buy gay\" and \"Vote gay,\" or \"Gay power.\" Snubbed by the Eureka Valley Merchants Association, a dozen GLBTQ merchants led by Milk formed the Castro Village Association in 1974, in the back of a pizza parlor, as Randy Shilts tells the story in The Mayor of Castro Street, an organization designed to protect and amass and consolidate economic might and therefore increase its political influence. That August, CVA sponsored its first Castro Street Fair, drawing an estimated 5,000 people. By year's end CVA had more than 50 members, including 20 straight merchants and the initially resistant Bank of America and Hibernia Bank, with aspiring politicians in attendance at its meetings.\n\nIn a column for the Bay Area Reporter the same month, Milk noted that some fractious GLBTQ people had criticized the CVA as a means to achieve gay rights. Milk, however, believed it not only to be a means of developing community and resources, a site of gay rights and a platform for his passionate voter registration drive, but as a means of \"forming a bridge between the communities.\" As Milk had clearly articulated during his first campaign, his populist vision of a city of interdependent neighborhoods sought to make life better for all San Franciscans, even as he was emerging as the champion of GLBTQ San Franciscans. Fighting for the public library exemplified Milk's call for interconnectedness. That he himself was an aficionado of high culture, especially the opera (Harvey Milk, An Opera In Three Acts, was staged in his memory in Houston, New York, and San Francisco in 1995\u20131996), made his juxtaposition of the public library and the proposed performing arts center all the more poignant and powerful. In a passage that should be repeated in our own time, Milk averred, \"More than any of our other cultural assets, it is the library that currently suffers from neglect. It gets neither publicity nor applause, even though it serves in silence the needs of all and asks no price for services rendered. It provides fantasies for the young, solace for the old, and information for all who seek it.\"\n\n. . .\n\nSan Francisco is justly famed for its cultural heritage\u2014a symphony hall orchestra, a ballet, and an opera that are not only well known and well beloved by its inhabitants but are world-renowned as well. Newspaper and television coverage of their troubles and their triumphs is extensive. Their patrons number not only San Francisco's own \"four hundred\" but students from universities both in the City and across the Bay. All of these cultural activities run deficits that are made up for by the generosity of the wealthy\u2014as well as by the prices charged for both box seats and those in the balcony. There is no question but that the symphony and the opera and the ballet cater to the affluent and the culturally inclined: there are no free performances.\n\nAs a frequent patron of all of these cultural events, I am quite fond of them. But not too far from the center of these activities, in a building that should have been renovated and enlarged years ago, a different sort of performance is held daily from nine in the morning until nine at night. There are no stars and there is no music. The attendees are not the affluent\u2014though they're not excluded, nor necessarily those with a taste for culture\u2014though culture is high on the agenda. The patrons include both the poor and the rich, the students and the entertainment-starved, the blue collar and the executive, the very young and the very old. The performances are held in silence and the performers are tiny black figures on white pages. There is no charge: it is free to all.\n\nI do not know the total attendance at the opera and the ballet and the symphony. Whatever the figures are, they're dwarfed by the number of people who daily use our library.\n\nA Performing Arts Center represents the ego of a great city, the public library represents its heart. More than any of our other cultural assets, it is the library that currently suffers from neglect. It gets neither publicity nor applause, even though is serves in silence the needs of all and asks no price for services rendered. It provides fantasies for the young, solace for the old, and information for all who seek it.\n\nWe can live, though perhaps not so richly, without a Performing Arts Center. Without an expanded, functioning library that serves the need of everyone\u2014the masses as well as the elite, the poor as well as the wealthy\u2014we suffer an impoverishment of the spirit and the City dies a little.\nPART TWO\n\nThe Grassroots Activist Becomes \"The Mayor of Castro Street\"\n16\n\n\"Au Contraire . . . PCR Needed\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, February 9, 1975\n\nGiven Milk's outspoken moral outrage regarding homophobic police harassment and violence, especially in the wake of the Castro 14 confrontation the previous September, the conciliatory position he here takes in his Bay Area Reporter \"Milk Forum\" column, encouraging a positive attitude and public friendliness toward police and endorsing the Police Community Relations (PCR) Department and its seminars, may come as a surprise. Just months before, he had railed against what he called \"police sickness,\" asking publicly why \"police officers were allowed to make wanton assaults against citizens\" why crowded sidewalks outside bars in the Castro were targeted, but not those in front of the city's elite theaters; and why there were no openly gay members on the force. At the time he had been criticized for his attacks on the Police Department by Thomas Edwards, gay rights activist and District Chairman of the PCR, which Milk argued was merely another symptom of errant accommodationism and tokenism by so-called \"gay leaders.\" Thus Milk's desire and capacity to seek workable solutions to the city's problems, regardless of deep differences and animosities, is noteworthy.\n\nIt is also worth noting that soon after this column was published, Milk announced his candidacy for supervisor. During the 1975 campaign, Milk's political presence and public record criticizing local government and downtown interests forged stronger bonds with some unlikely constituencies, namely the unions. Milk gained the endorsements of the Building Construction Trade Council, Beer Truck Drivers local, and the Fire Fighters local. He didn't get the support of the police union, despite the fact that he was one of only two candidates to oppose the incumbent Board of Supervisors in support of the August police strike pursuing a wage increase (though he also filed a class action law suit in District Court against Mayor Alioto and SFPD officials for failing to protect citizens during the strike), and in the strike's wake to fight against Board-sponsored retaliatory initiatives on the ballot. In an exchange politico Michael Wong recounted, he wanted to support the ballot propositions to get even with the Police Officers Association, but Milk objected: \"The Supervisors fucked the union and refused to meet with them . . . they had no choice but to strike. You cannot hurt labor . . . we need them. . . . the rank and file are decent working people like you and me.\" Decent working people like GLBTQ residents, whom Milk urged here to set aside deep hurt and legitimate rancor for the sake of protection and progress in the city's neighborhoods, for themselves and for everyone.\n\n. . .\n\nSome people argue that there should be no need for an organization such as the Police Community Relations. They say that the fact that it exists means that something is amiss. They say that there should be no need for a group to improve relations between the police and the community. They are right. But if they were to continue their logic one step, they would also have to say that there should be no need for police. The very fact that there is a police force means that something is amiss. They are right.\n\nBut things are not as they should be. People do steal, rob, mug, kill, rape, etc., etc. Thus, there is a need for the police. And because of some police, there is a need for improving attitudes between the police and the community. Because of the nature of man, we need police. Because of the nature of man, we also have come to need Police Community Relations . . . but a meaningful PCR and not tokenism. Things must change. Man must stop his robbing, his killing. The police must stop their misuse of power, i.e. their attack on last week's anti-Viet Nam demonstrators and the press, the Castro Street Sweep, their harassment of gays. It adds up that on both sides, there is a percentage of people who abuse the rights of others. The question is what can be done to help change the thinking of the percentage of the people?\n\nThere always will be some who will not play by the rules. There always will be someone who will take advantage of others. There will always be some who, for many reasons, will create an unsafe atmosphere. There are deep rooted reasons for this . . . lack of education, lack of of job opportunities, frustrations, etc. These are paramount problems that will only be solved when our elected leaders get the guts to attack the problems instead of the crises. No PCR unit can hope to solve these deep rooted problems. What a PCR unit can solve is the attitudes on the surface and the attitudes that exist for lack of understanding on both sides. The PCR can bring their various communities together and work on improving attitudes. It is no easy task. There will be no fast solution. The Eureka Valley PCR is correct in trying to solve some of the local problems before trying to solve the citywide problems. If you can not improve your own area, how can you have the ability to solve things on a larger scale? A great opportunity to improve relations has been formed\u2014the local seminar. It will offer the police the chance to explain in detail the problems that they face\u2014and they do have problems. If the gay community is able to get a fuller understanding of the police, maybe some of the confrontations will lessen. The burden will then be transferred to the police to understand the life style and the frustrations of the gay community. If that happens, we might see less and less police harassment and less and less instances of police beating up gays.\n\nThe end result is what we are after. We wish to live and work in harmony. In order to do that, many of us will have to improve our attitudes towards the police. Few among us, including myself, have never yelled, \"pig.\" That must change. Instead of making faces at the police, we must start to smile and be friendly. We must welcome them. That may sound strange coming from this pen, but I look to the end result. If the gay community welcomes the police and makes friends with them, we can then expect the police to respect us and our rights. It has to be a two-way meeting and I have no hesitation to take the first step. I will take that step, but, I in turn want to see the police take the next step!\n\nLast Saturday night in front of the Regency theatre there were about 500 people waiting to get into the movie. The sidewalks were blocked. Even though you could not pass, there were no arrests for \"obstructing the sidewalks.\" Last week at the Hilton, there was a Photo Show. In all the ads there was mention of a holographic exhibit. The center of that exhibit was a hologram of two naked women kissing and licking each other's breasts. Even though there were no warnings and even though children were watching, there were no arrests for \"obscenities.\" The \"double\" standards against the gay community must stop. Gays must not be arrested on made up charges. Gays must not be arrested for doing the same things straights are doing. Gays must not be beat up by the police . . . (we have on file incidents of that happening).\n\nOnce there are steps taken, then the next step can be taken. That is where the entire community, gay and straight, can help the police. Last year in this city, 40,000 serious crimes were reported. Over 100 per day! Add to that [the] number of serious crimes not reported. Something has to be done to lower that rate rapidly. While police are busting gays for obstructing the sidewalks and while gays are yelling \"pig,\" people are being mugged, robbed, and murdered. All that negative police energy, not to mention the tax payer's money, being spent in harassment of the gays must be turned into a positive force against serious crime. Instead of looking for a gay to beat up, the police should be looking for criminals. The gay community can be of help. The upcoming Eureka Valley PCR seminar can open the door for the gays who have been victims of the police and for those police who hate us. But it is a step that must be taken. The end result will be not only an ending of harassment, but also a lowering of serious crime . . . all benefit.\n\nWith the end result in mind, I ask the gay community to continue to take a very active role in all local PCR units. To attend the Eureka Valley PCR seminar with a positive approach rather than a disruptive approach. The problems will not be solved overnight. Hatred has taken years to build. It will take time to overcome. But if the gay community takes that first step and makes it positive, friendly, and warm, then maybe those police who have abused their authority will take the next step. We have questions about some of the police leadership. We may even have hate. We have to bury that, not only for our own sake, but for those gays who will follow us in the years to come. We have the opportunity to show not only this city, but the nation, how to bridge the communities. It would be a shame if we don't make the most of it.\n17\n\n\"Harvey Milk for Supervisor\"\n\nCampaign letter, February 26, 1975\n\nPolitico Michael Wong observed in his diary that \"Harvey did not change his platform very much\" after the 1973 campaign. \"He was a better speaker and his statements were more refined.\" Indeed, Milk's populism again underwrote and punctuated his platform, as his campaign brochure made plain with this series of questions: \"What have you got in return for past increased taxes? Better police protection? Better Muni service? A more efficient purchasing department to save taxpayer's money? Why didn't the present Board of Supervisors ever give you a chance to vote, either way, on the Yerba Buena Project? Why did the Supervisors allow $100,000 to be spent on an 'I Love Muni' campaign when a lack of money for spare parts idled up to 100 vehicles at a time? Do the Supervisors ride Muni themselves? What have the Supervisors actually accepted for our ever increasing police budget? Police who arrest senior citizens for playing poker? In the recent police and firefighters strike, why did the Supervisors start negotiations so late? And why did they admit they were 'powerless to do anything' before the strike\u2014but can now find a dozen ways to 'punish' police? AND WHAT ABOUT TAXES?\" Milk's now-familiar \"us vs. them\" trope found its surest configuration in this race against the incumbent supervisors he hoped to unseat\u2014or at least one (\"I ask for just 1 of your 6 votes for Supervisor.\"). \"I accuse the present Board of Supervisors of creating an atmosphere that has led to municipal strikes, poor city services, an out of hand city budget, and a City Hall that yawns at the plight of the neighborhoods.\" Although once again Jim Foster and most other powerful members of the gay establishment opposed Milk's candidacy, his support among GLBTQ voters flourished, and he garnered a remarkably diverse array of endorsements, including the San Francisco Black Political Caucus, The Democratic League, San Francisco Tomorrow, Homeowners of Western Addition Association, Citizens for Justice, Harry S. Truman Democratic Club, Associated Democratic Club, Citizens for Representative Government, Frank R. Havenner Democratic Club, National Women's Political Caucus, People's Democratic Club, San Francisco Building and Construction Trade Council, Seniors Union for Social Justice, and the Union Labor Party.\n\nNevertheless, Milk lost for a second time in the 1975 election, finishing seventh behind six incumbents, with 53,000 votes\u2014once again proving that had there been district elections, he would have been victorious. Milk's optimism for deepening and expanding GLBTQ power never faltered; he always urged his supporters to discover their political and economic agency in the interest of redressing material grievances by exercising their votes, opening their wallets, and finding their voices, which he exemplified. His passionate voter registration drive had made a difference, if not in bringing him to the Board, then in bringing GLBTQ people into fresh and consequential focus for those coming into power, including George Moscone, whose mayoralty would mean change for minorities throughout the city.\n\n. . .\n\nDear Friends,\n\nIt probably comes as no surprise to most of you, but I am going to run for Supervisor again this year. One of the more important reasons for venturing into the political arena once again is to let the 17,000 people who voted for me last time know that my attempt at political office wasn't a one-shot affair. To have won the first time out, with limited funds and limited experience, would be to have expected a miracle. This time, it's a whole new ball game.\n\nWinning an election requires both financial support and lots and lots of hard work, along with the cooperation of others. That is why we've turned Castro Camera into a voter-registration headquarters for our neighborhood\u2014Senator Moscone perked noticeably when he discovered that we registered more than 2,500 people for the Governor's race last November. We have just begun to get this year's drive rolling again.\n\nBut that's only part of the overall picture. To expect to carry an election on the Gay vote alone is wishful thinking. The Gay vote is powerful, the Gay vote can make a difference. But it is the tremendous straight vote which makes the real decisions. With this fact in mind, I've gone into the straight community\u2014at many functions I've been the \"token\" Gay. I've tried to build a bridge between \"us\" and \"them\" because I believe that contact with the straight community is a two-way street and it is only by it that we can gain what we all want: equality and acceptance. This is exactly what we have attempted to do with the merchant's group in the Castro neighborhood. The Castro Village Association started with twelve Gay\u2014and one straight\u2014merchants about a year ago. Through hard work and sustained effort, we now number more than 55 members, many of them are straights, including the banks. We're trying to make our neighborhood a place where the two diverse communities can live and work together. We want it to become a model of economic strength within the City. We have moved in the right direction.\n\n. . . In this campaign, I am not going to be a \"one issue\" candidate. There are too many problems which desperately need solving to indulge in a simple one-issue campaign. I intend to fight for a better sense of spending priorities in city government, calling upon my own financial background. As a small businessman, I intend to fight for the needs of small businesses rather than solely for the interests of \"Downtown.\" I will call upon my work with the police department, and my experience with top police officials, to recommend more successful ways of fighting serious crime. And, finally, I will draw on my daily contact with our community to fight for the needs of all people in The City. This campaign will be conducted on several levels but perhaps it can best be summarized by saying it will be a \"populist\" campaign.\n\nWith all this in mind, I fully realize that I am going to need a hell of a lot of positive help and criticism. Thus, I am inviting you to an open meeting to help set some guidelines and get a more rounded and united viewpoint from our community [in order] to put our campaign together. Win or not, the fact that we're willing to wage a hard, uphill fight for what we feel is right will provide help and courage to others. While on my various speaking engagements, both here and away from The City, I've found that young Gays, especially, as well as those just emerging, derive encouragement and strength from our battle for equality and acceptance.\n\nI regret that this is a form letter and not the individual one I would like it to be. But there are so many different people and so many varying viewpoints and I want to hear from them all. I hear a great deal from the people I meet on the street, in the shops, in the bars, and at the many meetings which I attend. Now I want to hear from you!\n\nPlease join me on Sunday, March 9th, at 2 P.M. at Castro Camera, 575 Castro.\n\nIf you are unable to attend but would like to join us in this important campaign, please give me a call at 864-1390 or stop by the store at your convenience.\n\nAgain, my thanks for taking the time to read this.\n\nAll my best,\n\nHarvey Milk\n18\n\n\"Statement of Harvey Milk, Candidate for the 16th Assembly District\"\n\nCampaign material, March 9, 1976\n\nGeorge Moscone's election as mayor would seem to have portended a new era for GLBTQ people. Moscone had played a key role in overturning the state sodomy statute and appointed Milk, along with many other minorities, to posts in his new administration. Milk's position as commissioner on the influential Board of Permit Appeals consummated his long-standing call for GLBTQ people themselves to serve in office rather than relying on the good will and patronage of those liberal heterosexual allies, who always disappointed, as he had long argued. Why, then, did Milk's tenure in city government last only from January to March 1976? Hubris? No, Milk contended, he was simply responding to the recently exposed deal struck in 1974 among a number of prominent California politicians\u2014then State Senate Majority Leader Moscone, Assembly Speaker Leo McCarthy, Congressmen Phil and John Burton, Assemblymen John Foran and Willie Brown\u2014to fill the recently vacated 16th Assembly District (AD) seat with McCarthy aide Art Agnos. On the day Agnos announced his candidacy, Milk leaked his potential interest in a run, and Mayor Moscone made public his intention to fire Milk if he did so, only exacerbating the media frenzy over alleged bossism. That was precisely what occurred shortly after this announcement address, and with it emerged the memorable campaign slogan, \"Harvey Milk vs. The Machine.\" According to that now-familiar coded map hanging at campaign headquarters, otherwise known as Castro Camera, Milk surmised that his vote count in 1975 exceeded the number of votes John Foran had garnered in winning the 16th AD seat in the last election. That analysis would prove to be inaccurate three months later, but for reasons that only substantiated Milk's accusations regarding machine politics in California, in a losing campaign that would transform Milk into a national politician.\n\n. . .\n\nI would like to announce that I am a candidate for the office of Assembly from the Sixteenth Assembly District. I would consider it a great honor to be allowed to represent the people of this district.\n\nI know the people of this district; I know their problems. I live in the Sixteenth Assembly District. I'm a store owner in this district. I serve on many neighborhood boards within this district, most of which have worked for years to improve the living and working conditions of the district.\n\nFew people are more aware of the painful problems of the district than myself. Our rate of unemployment is obviously higher here than in any other district in our city. That unemployment has been fed by the closing of the Hunters Point Shipyard, by the failure of Yerba Buena. You can see the results of that unemployment in the beaten faces on Third Street, on the streets of Chinatown and among the Senior Citizens of the Tenderloin. Conditions are bad.\n\nThe political figures and their patronage system that worked in the past have failed in the present. It is a different ball game, and we need a different team. The old catch phrases, the old faces, the old loyalties, are not putting bread on the table, are not producing gainful employment. The vision that our political figures may have had at one time has vanished. We need people who understand, who understand money, who understand the value of a dollar, who realize that bread costs over fifty cents a loaf and milk forty cents a quart, and if you don't have that forty or fifty cents, your kids don't eat. We need people who understand that jobs mean more than welfare, that a job means pride, and, that for many people, handouts mean humiliation.\n\nThis district doesn't need politicians who are skilled in the practice of pay-offs, log-rolling, and political trade-offs. We need people with a concern and awareness of the problems of the people of this district: the poor people, the little people, the people who pay the taxes and who contribute to the quality of life that is so prized in this district. In every race that I've run, every board that I've ever worked on, my aim has been to help these people.\n\nRecently, politicians and candidates for political office have apparently decided that the way to serve the people of this district is through the creation of a political machine. Political machines do not serve the people\u2014they reward the people who serve them. Everybody is agreed that San Francisco must not become a New York financially.\n\nI think we are also agreed that San Francisco must not become a Chicago politically.\n\nDoes a machine exist? Dick Nolan, of the Examiner, articles in the Sacramento Bee, the Bay Guardian and the Sunset Journal have all referred to a power play taking place by San Francisco's newest political machine. The President of the Board of Supervisors has even termed this machine an \"Unholy Alliance.\"\n\nBefore making up my mind to run for the Assembly, I walked the streets of the Sixteenth Assembly District and asked hundreds of people who lived here if they thought I should challenge this machine before it took control of our district. The vast majority said yes and urged me to run.\n\nWith the support of the people, and knowing all too well the limited funds available to us versus the immense financial support the \"Unholy Alliance\" will give to their machine candidate, I am entering the race. I think representatives should be elected by the people\u2014not appointed. I think a representative should earn his or her seat\u2014I don't think the seat should be awarded on the basis of service to the machine.\n\nThe overriding issue is simply: do the people of the neighborhoods that make up the Sixteenth Assembly District have the right of political self-determination\u2014or, can the machine take that right away? Machines operate on oil and grease; they're dirty, dehumanizing, and too often unresponsive to any needs but those of the operators.\n\nIt's therefore my intention to challenge the machine and the legacy of neglect that it has bequeathed to the voters of my district.\n19\n\n\"Reactionary Beer\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, March 18, 1976\n\nHarvey Milk himself was not a drinker, but beer played an important role in his political career. Although not typically featured in the standard narrative of the Coors Boycott, often dated to the nationwide effort begun by the AFL-CIO in 1977, its roots are traceable to Teamster and California Coors Boycott Director Allan Baird, who sought out Harvey Milk and Howard Wallace in 1974\u20131975 to gain GLBTQ support, along with Arab and Chinese grocers, of the beer drivers' strike against six distributors. Memorably, Milk in return had asked for union jobs for his own people, not Baird's endorsement for his supervisorial campaign. And with the exception of holdout Coors, they succeeded, leading to an expanded boycott of Coors. Baird was impressed by Milk's \"no-bullshit\" approach, organizing acumen, and broader vision that included, for instance, equal outrage concerning Coors' discrimination against the Latino community. Milk, in turn, relished \"the symbolism of tying gays to the conservative Teamsters union.\" It is noteworthy that Baird resiliently endured homophobic slurs on the job and in the neighborhood for his work with Milk and the GLBTQ community. We should also better remember gay Teamster organizer Howard Wallace, who formed Bay Area Gay Liberation (BAGL) in 1975 as a response to the coalition boycott against Coors and did much to make gay rights a union issue writ large. That same year, when the national Teamsters' organization muscled local leaders out of the boycott, which Milk thought smelled of a payoff, he called on GLBTQ people for courage and a show of political maturity and strength by carrying on the boycott themselves. Milk, Wallace, and Baird exemplify the bridging, the coalition building to end discrimination and achieve equal rights, championed in this \"Milk Forum\" column. Moreover, the boycott of Coors substantiated Milk's theory of GLBTQ economic power. In 1977, when gay bars and their patrons renewed the boycott, responding to Joseph Coors' support of Anita Bryant's insidious homophobic campaign, Coors instantly lost its stronghold as California's best-selling beer.\n\n. . .\n\nThis past week there was a fundraising event for aid to some Native Americans. Attending was a cross section of San Francisco. Some of our local unions are working with neighborhood associations, some local unions lobbied for gay rights last year in Sacramento, the list goes on and inter-winds. In issue after issue, we see different groups coming to the aid of others. The bridges between the many communities and people of the city are being built. Maybe out of necessity, but the exciting thing is that they are being built. The combined effort can put an end to the insensitivity of government.\n\nSeveral years ago the Gay community took a step in working for others in their fight (in reality, our fight too) by participating in a boycott against Coors Beer. In many areas of the state and in the nation, the boycott continues. It has not been as active locally, lately, even though it still remains effective. Last week a woman came into my store, who had just driven across the nation. Like many others, she stopped off at the home plant in Golden, Colorado. She stopped there, for, like many people from the East, Coors has some sort of mystique. She was excited about taking the tour. Then she drifted off the tour and her eyes were opened. She is now a vocal part of the boycott.\n\nThe reason for the boycott comes from two basic points. One, a company that has an attitude towards its employees that can not only be called discriminating but also downright humiliating. (The discrimination of gay people in the work field is well known to all of us. It could be a major step in the gay movement if we started to join tighter forces with other groups to fight any and all discrimination by any and all companies.) In this case, the company has been brought before the Federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and the Colorado Human Rights commission more than once. A second reason for the boycott comes out of the paternalistic attitude of Coors towards its workers and a very poor labor relations history.\n\nWHAT ABOUT JOE COORS?\n\nYet there is still another side to the overall picture and that is Joe Coors himself. The number of articles written about him fills a book. Not just the local Denver papers or our San Francisco press. It reaches even to the Sunday New York Times. The ideological views of Joe Coors are right there with the John Birch Society\u2014he is a good contributor to that group. His attempt to manipulate the media, his involvement with the philosophies of Reagan, his dislikes of the \"pleasure-loving parasites,\" and well, we have all heard it all too often, all too many times.\n\nJoe Coors was a regent at the University of Colorado. Another regent at that time, the highly respected Republican, Harry Carlson, said that Coors was a \"super patriot who believed in interpreting the First Amendment to suit himself.\" Coors fought against \"permissiveness\" and \"strongly attacked the practice of giving birth control advice to female students.\" Joe Coors has a long record of more of the same. It is thus easy to see where his company's policy of discrimination comes from.\n\nMonths ago, I talked with one of the distributors of Coors in the Bay Area. He was going to set up a meeting with other Coors distributors so we could discuss the problems. He never did. I offered to go with several of their company officials to Colorado and tour the plants, just to see who was working there and at what types of jobs. The offer was turned down even though I offered to pick up the entire cost of the trip for all of us.\n\nHere is a way that the gay community could show its economic power. It is not too hard to switch brands of beer. (After the second one, not too many people can really tell the difference between brands, and blindfolded, very few people can even tell the difference on the first beer.) The point: if the gay community continues, even leads, the boycott, then the Spanish and labor groups fighting Coors will understand who their friends are and what it means to join together in fighting for a common goal, ending discrimination. The point: we will also be building bridges with others who in turn will aid us in our fight for equal rights. The combined effort could then trigger other groups and communities to joining in the struggle. The time is here when all who are discriminated against in any way should join forces\u2014it's a common battle, Coors beer might have a good taste, to some people, but the company's policies have a very bitter taste.\n20\n\n\"Nixon's Revenge\u2014The Republicans and Their Supreme Court\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, April 15, 1976\n\nOn March 29, 1976, the U.S. Supreme Court in a 6\u20133 vote summarily affirmed a lower-court ruling upholding a Virginia sodomy statute that made private, sexual activity between consenting adult members of the same sex\u2014\"homosexual acts\"\u2014punishable by up to five years in jail and a $1,000 fine. The anonymous plaintiffs in Doe v. Commonwealth's Attorney for City of Richmond, (E.D. Va., 403 F.Supp. 1199, affirmed, \u2014 U.S. \u2014, 96 S.Ct. 1489, 47 L.Ed.2d 751 [1976]) did not enjoy the privilege of having their case heard by the Supreme Court prior to its decision; the Court rendered its affirmation without oral argument or written opinion. Both the National Gay Task Force and the American Civil Liberties Union denounced the ruling on the grounds that it, like such state laws themselves, constituted an \"aura of criminality\" surrounding homosexuality that facilitated homophobic discrimination in employment, housing, licensing, and security clearances. Milk's hyperbolic predictions in this \"Milk Forum\" column about the endurance of Nixon's \"evil\" embodied in the Supreme Court proved prescient insofar as homosexuality was concerned. The Burger Court upheld a Georgia sodomy statute in its infamous 1986 ruling, Bowers v. Hardwick. Although Doe is not cited in Bowers, Nixon appointee Chief Justice Burger may have remembered it when, in his Concurring Opinion, he wrote, quoting Blackwell, that homosexuality is \"the infamous crime against nature,\" an offense of \"deeper malignity\" than rape, a heinous act \"the very mention of which is a disgrace to human nature,\" and \"a crime not fit to be named.\"\n\nMilk's enmity for Nixon and his Administration was, to say the least, formative. He cited Watergate as a chief cause of his entry into politics, and he often turned to the Nixon Administration as rhetorical fodder when in need of perspective by incongruity, as when he memorably remarked of Democratic Clubs in San Francisco, \"Evidently, they care about democracy as much as John Mitchell cares about Justice!\" As reliable as Nixon's negative touchstone, Milk's rally cry that GLBTQ power, exercised politically and economically, must rebut homophobia resounded in this campaign season editorial and throughout his career.\n\n. . .\n\nThe recent ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court on Homosexuality brought home something I wrote about a long time ago. \"The evil that Nixon brought on this nation will last long after he is gone from public office. His appointments to the Supreme Court will affect our lives to a greater degree than anything else he can do as president. We will have to live with that court and their rulings for too long.\"\n\nThe Nixon court has struck out against all gay people\u2014be they liberals or conservatives. The day-to-day blunders that Nixon gave to this nation can and will be corrected. The decisions made by his court will be on our necks for a long time. Even if you may have liked his foreign and\/or domestic policies, as a gay person, you have to regret this decision handed down by his court and we will be stuck with his court for some time.\n\nThe Republican Party\u2014on a national level\u2014has long told us that they know how to handle the economy. That they are best with fiscal policies. They have to be given some sort of credit for they have done what most economists thought was almost impossible\u2014given us high unemployment and run-away inflation at the same time. They have once again mismanaged our economy. After seven years in the White House, they have given us long lines at the unemployment offices. They have proven that they cannot handle our economy. All by themselves, they have shattered the myth that they themselves created\u2014that the Republican Party understands money and is fiscally responsive.\n\nWith the inability to handle the economy by the Republican Party, and this ruling by their court which will affect the gay movement and the lives of too many thousands of gay people, I can see no reason whatsoever why any gay person could vote for a Republican on the national level. If you care for an end to discrimination and are for the rights of gay people, look at what our great Republican Party has brought down on our backs.\n\nI would like to hear just one solid reason why any gay person should support the national Republican Party\u2014unless you are the type that likes to be discriminated against.\n\nTHE DANGER OF SCOOP JACKSON\n\nWith that as the record, I feel it is important for gay people to register as Democrats. If you are currently not so registered, then you can not vote in this June's primary. The importance of that is that we have some of the Nixonian thought process creeping into the Democrat Party, and it must be stopped. Scoop Jackson is running for president. His stands, over and over, are just plain anti-gay. If you want to let a person like Jackson into the White House, all you have to do is sit back and do nothing. If, however, you want to prevent Jackson from attaining the position, you must register as a Democrat to vote against him in the June primary. If he wins the nomination then there is no choice for gay people in the November election. It will be Jackson vs. a continuation of the anti-gay Republican mentality.\n\nThere are only a few weeks left to change your registration. The last day is May 3. If you are registered as an Independent, \"declined to state,\" etc., you can not vote in the Democratic primary. You may register\u2014if you have not voted in California before\u2014if you live here right now! You must re-register if you moved since the last election. You must re-register if you did not vote in the last two years. The day after election day is too late to complain.\n21\n\n\"My Concept as a Legislator\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, May 27, 1976\n\nIn an interview with the San Francisco State University student paper Zenger's in November 1976, Harvey Milk was asked if he had any reservations about his campaigns in an era of public suspicion regarding his ilk. \"Jefferson, Lincoln, and Truman were politicians. There's nothing wrong with being a politician. But as I got involved in politics I realized that . . . politicians are hypocrites. . . . I just took my stand and lost, unlike other politicians who get involved just to fill their egos and pockets. But I knew the consequence of running . . . it's vital that someone raise the questions.\" The aura of the stand, principled and last, is prominent in this \"Milk Forum\" column just a week prior to election day on June 8, the underdog gay neighborhood activist and small business owner against the Machine politician, the bureaucratic \"troubleshooter,\" flush with campaign funds, endorsements, and chits. As the Harvey Milk for Assembly Committee had written in its campaign brochure, \"The people of our district have been frozen out of jobs. They've been frozen out of decent schools\u2014out of decent housing\u2014out of decent medical care\u2014out of decent care for the elderly\u2014out of decent care for children. Harvey Milk understands that! After all, they tried to freeze him out of running against their hand-picked candidate. They tried to deny him the right\u2014everyone's right\u2014to run for public office. Harvey Milk is not running as somebody else's errand-boy, or riding on anybody's coat-tails. As a legislator, he'll owe nothing to the power brokers and the big money that keeps them in power. Harvey Milk has already established that he is not afraid to stand up for what is right. Harvey Milk will be able to raise the questions on the floor of the Assembly that our 'experienced' politicians overlook\u2014or are afraid to raise.\"\n\nThe closing weeks of the campaign had been filled with disappointments as the Machine Milk vilified proved every bit as influential as he depicted it. The press that egged him on did not endorse him, and kindred spirits such as Fr. Eugene Boyle ultimately endorsed his opponent Art Agnos. And then there was that overwhelming direct mail strategy the Agnos campaign launched at the end. The contrast between Milk and the Machine remains stark here, even if perhaps a bit less vibrant than it had been while the prospects on the campaign trail seemed brighter. Yet there is still a twinkle in Milk's description of his political hero Harry Truman, commemorative and comparative, conveying a sense that the fight is worthwhile because the people he hoped to represent mattered so much. Milk garnered 13,400 votes, fewer than he had received in 1975, fewer than he had predicted when plotting the maverick challenge to the Machine, and 3,600 shy of Agnos' total. And yet the numbers as depicted on his map at Castro Camera offered promise despite his third loss in as many campaigns. As the Zenger's article appeared that November, voters finally approved district elections for 1977. Harvey might be discouraged and in debt, but politically speaking, he was back in business.\n\n. . .\n\nThere is a basic difference in my concept of what a member of the State Assembly should be, versus that which my opponent holds. In my opponent's campaign material, he stresses that he will be a \"troubleshooter\" for the people, basing this concept on his experience as a wellpaid aide to a member of the Assembly from another district.\n\nMy concept is different. I think a legislator should be involved in the root causes of the problems that plague us. He should be involved with enacting legislation to correct these problems, thus doing away with the need for \"troubleshooters\" in the first place.\n\nIf we need \"troubleshooters,\" at the present, it's because so many of our legislators seem to have no idea or plans for solving our problems. In fact, they seem to have given up trying to solve the problems themselves and have merely attended to the symptoms substituting temporary \"programs\" for real solutions. They avoid the hard, politically unpopular, long-term decisions and rely more and more on the short-term answers provided by their \"troubleshooters.\" It's like putting Band-Aids on a cancer when the logical, though difficult, solution might be surgery.\n\nAnd so our unsolved problems breed more and greater problems, which in turn breed the need for more \"troubleshooters.\" The bureaucracy continues to do what it does best\u2014create more and more bureaucrats\u2014and we end up with government by \"troubleshooting.\" My opponent even lists as his greatest qualification those of a \"troubleshooter\"!\n\nI think my opponent lowers the position and importance of a legislator when he conceives of the post as being that of a glorified \"trouble-shooter.\" There is a good reason for this. He has spent the last ten years of his life working for the government\u2014meaning you\u2014at an excellent salary. He has been sheltered in the arms of the System. While he is undoubtedly aware (at least in the abstract sense) of poverty, the disruption caused by the loss of a job, and the crippling financial blows that steadily mounting taxes can cause a homeowner, for him it's been something of a spectator sport. He's been an observer, not a participant and has never really experienced the daily fight for survival that most of us have to face. I'm not being accusatory here\u2014in some respects, I may be envious. I'm a small businessman and I'm well aware of the uncertainties of the economy, exactly what the \"inflationary spiral\" means when I'm forced to raise prices to my customers, and how taxes can eat into your earnings.\n\nHARRY S. TRUMAN\n\nLike every politician, I have my own model. My personal hero in government\u2014it's no secret!\u2014is Harry Truman. He was a great President, and I think that one of the reasons why is that he operated a small business prior to going into politics.\n\nUnlike many Presidents, he wasn't born into great wealth. He had to scratch for every dime he made. He never developed contempt for the common man, perhaps because he had personally waited on so many of them in his Kansas City clothing store. Once in public office, he never patronized his constituents, perhaps because he never forgot the time when he had to file bankruptcy.\n\nThe people who supported Truman were those who had to sweat for their daily bread, many who may not have been as articulate as others with their tongues, but were loving in their hearts, those who instinctively recognized that no person is born to greatness, but many people rise to it.\n\nTruman was beloved by the people because he was one of them\u2014and they knew it. He was not a devious President and disconcerted many of his fellow politicians by saying what he thought, not by parroting what he knew would be popular. When he retired, he spent his days in Independence giving personal tours of the Truman Library and lecturing to school kids on representative government.\n\nIn his final days, Harry Truman always considered himself a representative of the people.\n\nI think that's important. The government doesn't belong to the lawyers. It doesn't belong to the professional politicians, and it doesn't belong to the bureaucrats who, understandably enough, have become wedded to the patterns of thinking that prevail within bureaucracy itself.\n\nThe government belongs to the people. And new ideas, as they usually do in business itself, will have to come from the outside\u2014from the people. That's why we have elections as often as we do: to get new ideas and new input from the people.\n\nI can understand my opponent's approach to government and sympathize with it. He wants to solve the day-to-day crisis\u2014it's the only approach he knows. He's a bureaucrat and to be honest, we need some bureaucrats. But we aren't going to solve our problems by electing to public office the aides of those who have already wrestled with those same problems for the past two decades\u2014and lost two falls out of three. We need new input, we need new ideas.\n\nUnfortunately, it hardly seems reasonable to assume that a man who has worked within the bureaucracy for the last ten years is going to have any.\n22\n\n\"Uncertainty of Carter or the Certainty of Ford\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, September 2, 1976\n\nThis was not what you would call an ideal slate of presidential candidates for the GLBTQ community\u2014a conservative Republican or a Democrat who identified as a born-again Southern Baptist. Jimmy Carter, however, had surprised and confounded many on the campaign trail with his unexpected statements on sexuality. Best remembered is the eye-popping Playboy interview in which Carter admitted that he had \"committed adultery in my heart many times.\" Perhaps not recalled by many is that Carter on several occasions also publicly expressed his opposition to homophobic discrimination. In the San Francisco press conference to which Milk refers in this \"Milk Forum\" column, Carter pledged to support New York Congresswoman Bella Abzug's bill that would add \"affectional or sexual preference\" to the 1964 Civil Rights Act, stating that \"I will certainly sign it, because I don't think it's right to single out homosexuals for special abuse or special harassment.\" However, his perspective on gay rights was ambivalent to say the least, and despite Milk's clever rhetorical turn here on the notion of \"uncertainty,\" it would have been foolhardy to trust Carter's commitment. After all, in that same Playboy interview, Carter conceded, \"The issue of homosexuality always makes me nervous. It's obviously one of the major issues in San Francisco. I don't have any, you know, personal knowledge about homosexuality and I guess being a Baptist, that would contribute to my sense of being uneasy. . . . It's political, it's moral, and it's strange territory for me . . . to inject it into a public discussion on politics and how it conflicts with morality is a new experience for me. I've thought about it a lot, but I don't see how to handle it differently from the way I look on other sexual acts outside marriage.\" Carter's ambivalence would continue into his presidency, with those campaign pledges unconsummated.\n\nNevertheless, Milk's comparative analysis had much to be said for it. President Ford's official position was that he had no position on the issue of gay rights. And his actions spoke even more loudly than his silence. On September 22, in San Francisco, Ford narrowly escaped Sara Jane Moore's assassination attempt because of bystander Oliver \"Bill\" Sipple's selfless effort. Sipple had saved the president's life. Sipple was also gay. That fact should not have mattered to the president, but it did. The fact that Sipple was closeted should have mattered to Milk, but politics mattered more. Milk leaked Sipple's sexuality to the press, and the story of the gay veteran who thwarted Ford's murder made national headlines, and traumatized Sipple and his family. No doubt that trauma was exacerbated by the president's homophobic ingratitude, which, as Milk dramatized, was more egregious by contrast to his magnanimity for those less deserving of his public gesture. Ford's note of thanks that ultimately arrived only after browbeating from the press must have seemed quite hollow to the shaken Sipple. Unaware that Milk had outed him, Sipple gave a copy to the man he had worked to elect in 1975, signed \"To Harvey, a good friend.\"\n\nMost important in this column is Milk's enacted vision of gay power by interpellating and empowering GLBTQ people as agents of change, as a powerful political collective of bloc voters, who could and should cast votes based on the very particular measure of a candidate's commitment to gay rights. The promise of gay power resides in its capacity to mediate and transform the political difference between certainty and uncertainty.\n\n. . .\n\nFacing the reality of it all, either Carter or Ford will be our next president. Some people, especially those who are content with the \"way things are,\" will opt for Ford because they know where he is and can \"live\" with him. They argue that they don't know where Carter is, and that uncertainty bothers them. Thus, while they are not happy with Ford, they\u2014like many people\u2014will stay with the status quo. Think about Columbus, Marco Polo, George Washington, etc., staying with the \"certain\" things of life!\n\nGiven the fact that this is a problem with many people, let us look at the certainty of Ford and the uncertainty of Carter on one important issue: Gay people's rights. Where do these two people stand in regard to the rights of 5%\u201310% of the nation's population? Yours and mine.\n\nFirst let's look at the \"uncertainty\" of Jimmy Carter. He has stated\u2014not in front of gay audiences to gay press, but right in front of the national press\u2014more than once that he regards as an equal sin\u2014and lumps them together\u2014fornication and adultery! He does not regard a person's being gay any more or less of a sin as\u2014well, I guess, what 90% of the people of the nation do. He then further states that he believes that the government has absolutely no business whatsoever interfering with a person's right to work or live, no matter what their sexual orientation is. He continues with the statement that he would sign Abzug's bill for gay equal rights. In other words, he stands for gay rights laws being passed even though he regards homosexuality as a sin alongside of fornication and adultery. That is more than the California State Assembly or State Senate feels. They never got a gay rights bill out of committee.\n\nCan you \"live with\" a president that regards you as a sinner but feels that the government has no business interfering with your personal life and will sign into law that point?\n\nOn the other hand, we have the \"certainty\" of President Ford. Let's look at where he stands on that same issue.\n\nDuring his term as President, Ford was close to being killed twice. Once he was driving in New England and his car was hit by another car driven by a young person. The next day the president called the young driver and personally talked to him to tell him that while that car came close to killing him (Ford), he (the driver) should not worry, etc. Great! Humanitarian at the least. Concerned about another human even though it was one who almost killed him! What a great leader! However, not too long before that incident, Ford was almost killed by a woman here in San Francisco. The police and Secret Service all agree that the only thing that saved the President's life was the action of a person who grabbed the gun and forced the bullet to miss its target. In other words, that person, according to all our experts, by his action saved the life of the President.\n\nAnd what did our President do about that? After all, if he will call and talk person-to-person to a young man who almost killed him in an accident, you would think that he might even invite the person who saved his life to the White House. Did that person get an invitation to the White House? No. Did that person get a phone call from the President? No. Did that person get a personal letter immediately thanking him? No. Oh, about a week or two later and with much hullabaloo from the press, he did get a letter from the President\u2014similar to letters sent to some of the police who later assisted the hero. Short and almost form letters.\n\nWe hear a lot about words vs. actions. I think that the actions that Ford took in these two cases say a lot about the man. Why would he talk personally to someone who almost killed him and almost ignore someone who saved his life? One was gay; one was not. Can you guess which one was the gay person?\n\nYes, the \"certainty\" of Ford is that he couldn't even get the (whatever the word is) up to thank a person who saved his life\u2014a person who was gay. Ford might stand for the rights of people\u2014but somehow I'm not \"certain\" that that does not include gay people.\n\nThe point? Well, the worst thing that Nixon did to gay people was his appointments to the Supreme Court. For a long time I have been saying that the most important decisions that governors and presidents make, excepting war, are who they put on the courts. These judges affect our day-to-day life more than anything else that they do; and because the appointees stay on long after the executives leave, the effect lasts and lasts. Look at what Nixon's Supreme Court did in regard to gay rights. They would not even hear the case that was brought up this year! And Ford is more conservative than Nixon.\n\nFord wanted to impeach Earl Warren! Ford started the fight and led the fight to impeach the best friend we had on the court! What kind of people do you think Ford will appoint to the court? Friends of gay rights? Ford, who pardoned Nixon and lets Connally be his mouthpiece, is no friend of gay rights. (Interestingly, Ford loved Connally's approach to the campaign this past week. Connally is the person who was acquitted in his case of being accused of taking illegal money; but the person who was accused of giving the money was convicted for it! You figure that one out!) Yes, Ford loves Connally. Yes, Ford pardoned Nixon. Yes, Ford wanted to impeach Earl Warren. Yes, Ford would not call the homosexual who saved his life but called the heterosexual who almost took his life. That's the \"certainty\" of Ford.\n\nFor me, I'll take the \"uncertainty\" of the man who will sign Abzug's gay rights bill. For me, I'll take the \"uncertainty\" of the man who regards homosexuality as much of a sin as fornication and adultery. For me, I'll take the \"uncertainty\" of the man who believes that the government has no business in a person's bedroom.\n\nThe other issues? We can go into them at another time\u2014however, what good is a great economy of a great nation at a great peace if you are in jail or can't get a job because you are gay?\n23\n\n\"A Nation Finally Talks About . . . It\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, June 9, 1977\n\nThere is a concept in social movement theory called \"moral shock,\" an affective, cognitive, and moral surge of adrenaline born of a particularly jolting catalytic event or over-the-threshold moment, the tumult occasioned by the proverbial last straw of accumulated or projected injustice\u2014and the framings and performances that rhetorically configure it. Moral shock, despite being an existential disruption, can culminate in a kind of clarity of vision, vibrantly altered perspective, awakening of agency (what some still call empowerment), and propulsion toward activist modalities. To appropriate the words of an evangelical such as Anita Bryant, moral shock might be called a queer awakening or conversion experience. This exuberant \"Milk Forum\" column is the voicing of moral shock and its after trembling, the stampede footfalls of movement in the wake of a remarkable catalytic moment.\n\nThe extraordinary highs and lows of 1977 surely qualify it as among the most consequential years in GLBTQ history to date, one that began with the wide-eyed vista of a promised land of gay rights geography, mapped by anti-discrimination ordinances in Florida, Minnesota, Kansas, Illinois, Colorado, and Oregon, and those 19 states now free of criminalized sexuality. Then came Anita Bryant, nescient siren thoroughly embraced as the bigot's darling and mouthpiece, fomenting homophobic discourse, legislation, and violence. How easily one might have despaired as that reversal came to pass with the repeal vote on Orange Tuesday, with the impossible vindication of that devastating canard, \"Save Our Children.\" But Harvey Milk didn't despair or retreat; he saw in Orange Tuesday a moral shock that might just galvanize a national GLBTQ movement in proportion unachieved by the heroic efforts of earlier activists. And, significantly, Milk also knew that circumstance alone was not enough, that he had to frame these vicious happenings, the visceral grief and outrage that he had witnessed in those mass marches through San Francisco, and Anita Bryant herself, as a boon that might be transformative if mobilized for GLBTQ justice and equality.\n\n. . .\n\nNo matter which way the vote went in Florida last Tuesday, Gay people won; there was a victory deeper than the actual vote. And it is only the beginning. Too many people look only at the vote count; they do not understand what the vote means.\n\nWithout Anita Bryant there would not have been: a cover story in \"Newsweek\" which dispelled many of the myths about homosexuality; headlines, day after day, in major city after major city, talking about Gay rights and homosexuality; national television nightly covering Gay rights. In short, the entire nation finally opened up and talked about Gay people. Dialogue that had never before taken place became a daily occurrence. The drawing of lines put many of our enemies out in the open where they can be counted and seen. It also brought to the side of Gay people groups like the Dade County Democratic Party (where were the Republicans on this one?). Once people took the stand on the side of the Gay people, they became deeply committed.\n\nAN AWAKENING\u2014AND WHAT IS NEW?\n\nHomosexuality is no longer a taboo subject in the media and in the homes and schools of a nation. The crack in the dam has taken place. While there has been much said and printed against Gay people during the campaign, that is nothing new. The laws have been there for centuries. The hatred has always been there. What was new are the words that were pro-Gay. Never before has so much positive been said and printed. Anita Bryant got in print what so many Gay people for so long have tried to do in vain. She herself pushed the Gay movement ahead, and the subject can never be pushed back into the darkness.\n\nTHE TRUE NATIONAL GAY MOVEMENT\n\nThe second victory out of Florida was from the statement made by Bryant that she would not take their campaign to San Francisco because \"the Gays are too organized there.\" What that statement said to Gay people all over the nation is: \"Let's find out just what they did in SF and how they did it. Then, let's do it here.\" Anita Bryant told the Gay communities of every city in the nation: GET ORGANIZED LIKE THEY DID IN SAN FRANCISCO! She has, in fact, started what so many of us have talked about\u2014a true national Gay movement.\n\nCALIFORNIA GAY CONFUSION\n\nThe result: We in the Gay community should copy the other movements. We must organize beyond our local areas and personal beliefs. We should start with a California state-wide convention next spring of Gay people from all over the state from ALL political philosophies. And we should invite every candidate who is running in all the primaries for all the state offices to talk on one subject only: where they stand on Gay rights and just what they are going to do for Gay people. They should be instructed that at this particular convention there is only ONE issue that we want to hear about. There will be no endorsing. No partisan play. No games. But that their stands and comments will be made public, and that their absence will also be made public.\n\nThe Blacks do this on a national level. There is no reason why, in the future, there is not a national Gay convention of Gay people from all political factions asking the candidates for President where they stand and just what they will be doing for Gay people if elected. Then when we look at the candidates on the other issues, we will at least have their Gay rights views up front and not clouded by other issues.\n\nNo longer should we allow any candidate (even our \"friends\") to evade the issue because it will \"hurt\" them with other voters. If none appear, then none should get our votes. Our votes should go to one of the minor party candidates if any of them show up.\n\nThis political action has worked, to a large degree, in SF. It should be now used on a state-wide level and then expanded on to the national level.\n\nAnita Bryant has told us to organize all over the nation as we have done in SF. Thank you for that one, Anita!\n24\n\n\"Gay Economic Power\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, September 15, 1977\n\nAs noted earlier, the idea of economic power\u2014and the independence it wrought and community it inspired\u2014had long been a part of Harvey Milk's politics. The struggles of disenfranchised and marginalized communities had always been situated centrally within Milk's ideological views and his public commitments. Even as early as his 1973 campaign for Supervisor, a San Francisco Examiner article quoted him as saying, \"I stand for all those who feel that the government no longer understands the individual and no longer respects the individual.\" And, at the same time, he waged multiple campaigns against moneyed downtown redevelopment interests and their political allies.\n\nIn the summer of 1974, just a scant few months after opening Castro Camera Shop, Milk helped organize the boycott of Coors beer throughout the string of gay bars in and near the Castro [see Document 19]. This was done as a showing of both GLBTQ solidarity and blue-collar sensibilities. During his early political campaigns, Milk had also offered unwavering support to San Francisco's unions, while other candidates and elected officials simultaneously balked at strikes planned by teamsters and firefighter unions.\n\nHis populist aims of supporting local economies translated, too, into his joining the Eureka Valley Merchants Association, the local guild that protected area business from what Milk called San Francisco's \"giants.\" However, as discussed previously [see Document 15], when this group refused to allow openly GLBTQ businesses to associate with the other Castro burghers, Milk formed the Castro Village Association expressly to promote GLBTQ businesses. This was 1974, a time when Milk used for the first time publicly the expression, \"Buy Gay.\" A brochure, shopper's guide, and Village map that he created in 1973 invited patrons to \"Shop and Play\" in the Castro. His contention in those early days was that businesses did not just generate dollars, but rather constituted communities and uplifted neighborhoods. Indeed, he would center much of his political campaigning in the coming years on supporting the GLBTQ community; as he noted later, \"Gay for Gay. That's my issue. That's it. That's the big one.\"\n\nThe editorial included here is a later representation of Milk's GLBTQ-centered politics, as expressed in economic terms. Following from the tradition of Black nationalism (and immigrant enclave pride), Milk's May 6, 1977, forum piece entitled \"Gay Economic Power\" served as a call to all GLBTQ merchants to do their part in bolstering their communities. Milk's focus on the \"responsibility of the gay merchant\" indicated that he viewed GLBTQ economic power transactionally. That is, he first thought that GLBTQ business owners should compete responsibly and equally with \"straight merchants\" and, moreover, contribute to GLBTQ community causes. In turn, Milk insisted that community members themselves enter into the relationship symbiotically so as to support the GLBTQ businesses. As he said in a June 1977 letter to business owners, urging them to join his Community Guild, \"There is more to being a gay business than immediate personal gains. . . . Please reach out and help build your community. It will cost you a lot . . . a little energy, a little time, and a deep concern for your community.\" Though he conceded that sustaining a GLBTQ economic nationalism would be difficult, what would ease this inconvenience was \"Gay Pride.\" To that end, this document comprises Milk's views on the importance, power, and possibilities of a GLBTQ-centered economy. Importantly, this editorial demonstrates that Milk kept the issue of economics always at the forefront of his political thought. As he prepared himself for his 1977 Supervisor campaign during this month (May 1977), Milk reiterated the need to \"Buy Gay\"\u2014this would have been a savvy political maneuver, as San Francisco had moved to district elections; District 5, as noted earlier, comprised the Castro and much of the city's GLBTQ-centered and GLBTQ-friendly communities.\n\n. . .\n\nIn the last issue I talked about the concept of \"Buy Gay.\" I talked about the fact that we go out of our way to drink at gay bars across town rather then drink at convenient neighborhood bars and the importance of carrying that concept through to other gay business. Why not go out of our way to shop at a gay store rather than a convenient neighborhood store? However, there is another important side to the concept. A side that must never be overlooked. And that is the responsibility of the gay merchant.\n\nIf \"Buy Gay\" spreads and the gay community starts to bring this concept to a high level then there is indeed the responsibility of the gay merchant not to become the rip off. He must offer the product at prices competitive to straight merchants. He must offer competitive service. If his business increases due to BUY GAY then he must not take advantage of the situation. His responsibility goes deeper then giving fair prices and good service . . . he must bend more towards the gay customer. If a person is going to go out of their way to support gay economic power then the merchants must show their appreciation by returning that support. This can be done in one of several ways. Better than favorable prices and service or returning some of the financial gains to the gay community.\n\nThere are many gay businesspersons who contribute heavily to the support of gay activities and organizations. There are many gay organizations that need help and as long as they are offering the gay community needed services and do not \"demand\" help they should be supported. The gay businesspersons who do so must be congratulated for their aid. They are needed and will be for some time.\n\nThen there are the gay business[es] that offer better than competitive prices even though they do not have to. Some of the gay restaurants offer meals that not only are good but are at prices that are below straight competitors. What is sad is the restaurant that makes it on the gay business and then because it becomes an \"in\" place forgets how they got started and who their supporters were in their time of growth.\n\nLet me also explain what I have done with my camera shop in appreciation of buying gay. There are very few neighborhood camera shops that cut prices on film and supplies. The large camera giants offer discounts to students and professionals. These range up to 20%. But they do not offer discounts to the general public unless they buy in volume. At first I could not match the 20% for my costs. I was only able to give 15%\u2014but I gave that to all. Then I got together with another gay owned camera shop\u2014Eye Food. Together we are able to buy in larger amounts and our costs dropped. Thus I cut my prices on film and supplies across the board to 20% off of list. That makes a price that both of our stores offer to all customers equal to the best that the camera giants offer only to their special customers. Through joint buying we are able to sell to everyone at a price that is equal to but wider-spread than any of the giant camera shops. We do that because we believe that we owe it to the community that supports us.\n\nThis type of responsibility . . . passing financial gains on to gay causes and competitive prices is the other side of the picture if BUY GAY is ever to be a reality. It can not be only on the side of the purchaser. In order to make it work in my case I joined my purchasing power with that of another gay shop. More of this can take place. One of the interesting things that is happening is the formation of new gay business associations. The Community Guild is only one of these. Their members may find ways to achieve joint buying and to pass the lower prices on to their customers. That association is also committed to helping the San Francisco Gay Community Building and the Guild Foundation. It is that kind of attitude that benefits the entire gay community.\n\nMore merchants must join in the BUY GAY movement by understanding their responsibility. Their profit margins may be lowered but their volume will increase and they will be helping make a stronger total gay community. It is a step towards gay civil rights.\n\nWe have to pay our taxes and we are denied our civil rights. One way to help to bring about a change in this is through keeping as much of our money circulating within the gay community. It may be inconvenient to \"Buy Gay.\" It may be inconvenient to get to your favorite gay bar at night . . . but you get there . . . you can also find a way to get to your gay shops. What eases the inconvenience is something called Gay Pride.\n25\n\n\"You've Got to Have Hope\"\n\nSpeech, June 24, 1977\n\nAs Milk's political career moved into the 1977 race for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, he stayed true to the vision he had forged through his three previous campaigns. A campaign advertisement from the summer of 1977 noted this vision succinctly: \"You know Harvey Milk means it when he says that he will: Fight to save the Gay Community Center from demolition, Introduce an anti-discrimination ordinance covering all businesses in San Francisco, Work for gay affirmative action . . . Sue, if necessary . . . Make sure that the gay community gets its fair share of City services.\" As one would expect, Milk never wavered from his position that GLBTQ communities needed an avowed GLBTQ leader in office, and one who was not beholden to those straight liberal \"allies\" who retreated from their GLBTQ supporters when times got tough. During this campaign, Milk first called for a statewide gay caucus that would mobilize and gather community across political, social, and other lines to create a unified front and influential block designed to test the commitment of any aspirant politician on gay issues. He inspired kids from small towns everywhere where the closet needed to be opened to hold onto \"hope\"\u2014this became Milk's mantra.\n\nMilk's vision still bore the marks of the populist, neighborhood activist fighting for \"the people\" in District 5 and across San Francisco, reaching out throughout the campaign to African Americans, Latinos and Latinas, women, the elderly, and heterosexuals. This was still Milk's signature theme, one that made his call to his GLBTQ family broadly resonant, even in moments of oppression. Recall that 1977 was the year of Anita Bryant's \"Save the Children\" campaign, a dovetailed effort to smear publicly and occlude legally GLBTQ communities. Bryant and her campaign in Dade County, Florida, succeeded in repealing the City of Miami's gay rights ordnance. Though Milk was not officially enlisted as a leader in what would be called the Orange Tuesday debacle, he became an interpreter of the event for GLBTQ folks in San Francisco. In its June 9, 1977, issue on \"The Battle over Gay Rights,\" Newsweek mentioned that \"Bryant is proving to be a catalyst for the gay-rights movement . . . drawing attention to the issue and mobilizing homosexuals to organize politically and raise funds.\" Part of the backlash of her \"Save the Children\" campaign was that leaders of GLBTQ communities stepped-up into the breach to lead their respective communities against bigotry and homophobia. Milk was a part of this invigoration of gay rights, and as he mobilized GLBTQ communities in San Francisco, his star began to rise, thereby giving way to his decision to run for the Board of Supervisors in 1977.\n\nThe need for a leader like Milk intensified as California State Senator John Briggs announced days after Orange Tuesday that he would campaign to remove GLBTQ teachers from the public schools of California. His smear and bait effort prompted some municipal politicians in California to shut down district elections (which allowed actual neighborhoods to select their leaders through a citywide vote). Importantly, the campaign helped homophobic forces remove GLBTQ-friendly officials from seats of power. If a GLBTQ person was allowed into the political fold at all, she or he was typically conservative\u2014and silenced. As Milk once wrote of gay conservative forces, \"The homosexual will never be given [freedom] as long as he is led by what blacks label 'Uncle Toms' . . . maybe we can call them 'Aunt Marys' . . . these are people who, for whatever personal reasons, tell us that we 'never had it so good' and brag about the crumbs thrown to homosexuals . . . [until] the gay community gets rid of the Aunt Marys and puts together their strength . . . we will remain oppressed and used.\"\n\nOnce again opposed by said conservative gay leaders, once again helped by talented young, inexperienced volunteers, and once again outspent (according to the Bay Area Reporter in November 10, 1977, gay frontrunner for Supervisor, Rick Stokes, spent $50,000 to Milk's $8,000), Milk had finally won in November 1977. And in the process, he crafted his most vital campaign speech\u2014one spotlighted in Randy Shilts' book The Mayor of Castro Street and immortalized in Gus Van Sant's feature film Milk.\n\nWhat came to be called \"The Hope Speech\" was initially conceived as a stump address, wherein Milk attempted to embolden a strong GLBTQ nationalism within the Castro, while also appealing for an alliance with other disenfranchised groups and straight folks. The speech was delivered at the San Francisco Gay Community Center on June 24, 1977, where Milk announced his third bid for candidacy for City Supervisor. The topos of \"hope\" was a central theme\u2014a transcendent \"hope\" that \"all will be alright.\" According to his speechwriter Frank Robinson, the \"hope trope\" was used because Harvey saw his campaign and success as a synecdoche of possibilities for all. He scripted the promise of GLBTQ, subaltern, and allied communities across his campaign. His election would become the manifest reality, the material embodiment, of that promise by moving the ideal of progress into the literal offices of City Hall, thereby illuminating the way for GLBTQ communities across the nation. Or, as he later said in his victory statement: \"I understand the significance of electing the first Gay person to public office and what his responsibility is not only to the people of San Francisco, but to Gay people all over. It's a responsibility that I do not take lightly.\"\n\nThe present version of this speech has been chosen as it represents the first time Milk's campaign address (\"You've Got to Have Hope\") was delivered. The following version was later revised and used as a motivational speech by Milk following his election to the District 5 City Supervisor seat. Between his swearing in on January 10, 1978, to the time of his assassination on November 27, 1978, Milk delivered slightly altered versions of what is now known in Milk memory and mythos as \"The Hope Speech.\"\n\n. . .\n\nI'm a person of few surprises so it will come as no surprise to you that what I'm about to say constitutes an announcement of my candidacy for Supervisor of District 5. For all I know, I may be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back for I'm sure by now that the list of candidates is close to equaling the list of eligible voters. The true test of Democracy is when anybody can run for anything and in this case, almost everybody is. Well, they say Democracy is a participatory process so you can't say we weren't warned. . .\n\nI've been running for so many things for so long in this city that I wear a pair of sneakers to work . . . after all, you can never tell when another opportunity will present itself.\n\nWhat I'm going to say from now on, I should warn you, isn't very humorous. Some of my friends have asked why I keep running, why I keep opening myself up for a bloody nose, why I keep running into debt and, frankly, jeopardizing the financial state of my own business for we all know that it costs a great deal of money to run. Presumably I could retire to the position of gadfly\u2014which costs nothing at all\u2014and let them run the city.\n\nLet's go back to the beginning. I am announcing my candidacy for Supervisor of a great City. Think about that for a moment. A city isn't a collection of buildings\u2014it isn't downtown with the B of A and Trans-America Tower, it isn't the parking lots or the freeways or the theatres or the massage parlors. A city is people. In this case, some 675,000. Some 60,000 of them live in District 5. They're Latins and Blacks, whites and Chinese, young and old, straight\u2014and gay.\n\nEach of those people has his or her own hopes and aspirations, his or her own viewpoints and problems. Each of them contributes something unique to the life of the city. What they contribute, we call the \"quality of life.\" Friends talking across fences, the baseball players in the playground on Sunday, old ladies tottering down the street hand-in-hand, the smile from a passing stranger.\n\nBuildings have very little to do with the quality of life. They usually go dark at six o'clock at night, concrete hives for the warehousing of workers, monuments to peoples' greeds and needs. They remain desolate and empty until the people return in the morning to flick the lights back on and fill the corridors with bustle and activity.\n\nThere are exceptions, of course, and we happen to be gathered in one of them tonight. It's one of those few buildings that contribute in a very unique way to the hopes and aspirations of a particular group of people. It's not as architecturally beautiful as the B of A or even the TransAmerica. But unlike those buildings, it has a \"heart and soul.\"\n\nNow would you believe this? The city wants to tear it down. For a parking garage. This building\u2014330 Grove\u2014is our Gay Community Center. Our Gay Community Center. Because it has meaning to the Gay people of this city, because for us it has both \"heart and soul\" we've chosen to pass up the larger hotels, those palaces of marble and ice, and have our dinner here.\n\nConsider this Center. Without it, a few nights ago where would those thousand gays who gather in the aftermath of Dade County gone? Where would they have gathered? Where would the people go who attend the multitude of Gay community meetings here? Where would the people congregate who want to take part in the fight to Save Our Human Rights, in Gay Action, in Lesbians United, in the dozens of other groups who meet here?\n\nIn the urban wars, this building has already earned its purple heart. It's played a major part in bringing together a divided people. Without 330 Grove, we would never have been able to get it together, as the saying goes . . . And why is it in the shape it is in?\n\nBecause our Supervisors want to tear this building down. For a parking garage.\n\nFor months this building has served as a focal point for the Gay Community. It's where we meet. It's our own little section of the City's turf. Responsible Gay people have tried for God knows how long to establish a center to which young Gay people can go when they arrive here from the rest of an oppressive America. A place where they can find counseling, friends and most of all, hope. Oh, without this Center, there would still be places they could go. The Tenderloin. Market Street. The St. Francis. They'll find counseling, all right. And they'll find friends. At so much per friend. But they won't find much hope.\n\nDo you blame me if I accuse the present Board of Supervisors of being unresponsive to the needs of the Gay community? Would you deny it if I said the situation is not unique, that the Board is unresponsive to the needs of other groups, both ethnic and social, as well? What about the desire of the Board to move the pornography \"Combat Zone\" into the lap of Hunter's Point? Were the people of Hunter's Point consulted? When the Black community objected, they were told \"it wasn't planned that way, it just happened!\"\n\nA few years ago, they closed the Sears store in the Mission district. The store was originally the doorway to the Mission and our city's Latin community. It provided employment, it drew people from other neighborhoods into the Mission so that the economic outlook of the entire area benefitted.\n\nToday, paradoxically enough, it's being turned into an unemployment office. I don't need to tell you what kind of depressing trade-off that is.\n\nAnd those are only a few examples.\n\nA long time ago, there was an ancient Christian sect called the Manicheans. Unlike the majority of Christians of the period, they claimed that the sins of omission were greater than the sins of commission. For their beliefs they were, as you might have guessed, exterminated. But they left us a legacy. The opposite of love is not hate.\n\nIt's indifference.\n\nThere is probably no minority in this city that hasn't been ignored\u2014on the human level\u2014by the present Board of Supervisors. It's no longer the Seniors, the unemployed, the Asian community, the Gay, the Blacks, the Latins and so forth. They're all US. It's US against THEM. If you add up all the USes, you'll find we outnumber the THEMS. And yet the THEMS control.\n\nIt's the THEMS who benefit when the Gays and the Blacks and the Latins fight amongst themselves. It's the THEMS who want to tear down the homes and community centers of the USes for their special pet projects. It's the THEMS who divide\u2014and conquer. It's the THEMS who are the real outside agitators in our communities. And they've been here for years.\n\nWho are the THEMS? They're the ones who pay the taxes and run the corporations and have large investments in the city.\n\nBut who buys the soap, the food, the towels, the shoes, the cigarettes, the beer and the cars that make the profits for the corporations? Who buys the insurance which provides the profits for the THEMS? Who puts their money into the banks so the THEMS can invest in their pet projects? Who convinced us all that somehow people removal was the same as urban renewal?\n\nOne of the biggest myths spread by the THEMS is that since it's \"their\" money to begin with, they should say how the taxes are spent. But it's your money. Oh, there's a crumb here and there that's tossed to the different communities. They fund a program, anoint a few \"leaders\" to run it who then go into the community and shout: \"Look what they've done for us!\"\n\nThe THEMS get most of the pie, the anointed leaders get a few crumbs\u2014and therefore sing the praises of their masters and the community gets a few invisible specks. The anointed leaders are the Uncle Toms\u2014and yes, the Gay community has its fair share. Look at who sings the praises of the government in power and you'll see for the most part people who have been granted position or power or income.\n\nNow let's get personal. Okay, Harvey, you say, enough of the rhetoric\u2014what are you going to do? As a supervisor, I will raise questions in public and demand answers. On how the money is raised. And how the money is spent. I will force the other supervisors to stand up and be counted when it comes to the spending priorities of the city. One immediate example: Why money for every other parade and none for the Gay Day parade, the second largest in the City? Maybe the largest. And I will question the lack of priority for other groups and communities. It's true that I've run . . . and run . . . and run. I didn't win, but I sure acquired a long list of questions that need answering. That demand to be answered.\n\nWhat kind of supervisor will I be? Well, the first thing to consider is that while a supervisor represents his district, he also represents the city at large. So let's for the moment ignore where you live. Also, ignore where you stand on any one issue\u2014there's no way I can be in agreement with every one of you on every issue. Frankly, there's no way I would want to\u2014nor do I think you would want me to.\n\nFirst, the District. Currently, there are 16 candidates running for Supervisor of District 5. Of those 16, only one spoke out in public on the problems of Upper Market Street. Should it be a six-lane artery, or should it be a narrower street with the neighborhood in mind\u2014a people-way instead of a highway. A limited number of lanes, some bicycle paths, trees and benches? When it came to public testimony, only one of the 16 candidates got up in public and stated the case.\n\nHis name was Harvey Milk.\n\nI lobbied the Mayor on this issue, I walked the street with the Mayor and when I found out that the opposition planned on walking with Supervisor Kopp, I walked with them, too. Interestingly enough, several of the other candidates were at the first public hearing and when they heard the testimony of Market Street merchants, they got up quietly and walked out.\n\nAnother important district issue was the zoning problem on 24th Street. The neighborhood wanted to restrict second-floor shops, to prevent the street from becoming another Union Street. Aside from one other candidate who owns a 24th Street shop, I was the only other one who spoke out on that issue.\n\nThree years ago I spoke out against the Franklin Hospital expansion. Institutional expansion into neighborhoods. This past year, I've spoken out again at all 4 public hearings. Only one other candidate spoke out, and that was in defense of the particular small street on which he lives.\n\nWhere were the other candidates on these and other District issues? Forget the words that they'll now rush into print. Where were they, when their words were needed and counted?\n\nOn a larger scale, where were the candidates when the problem of airport expansion came up? Again, I was the only candidate to appear before the airport commission. And the question of parking garages, and again, the city's attempts to tear down this community center.\n\nWhere were the other candidates?\n\nWhere were the self proclaimed fighters, anxious to represent their communities?\n\nWhere were our would-be leaders? On issue after issue why were they silent?\n\nThere's the touchy subject of the Porno hearings. I attended three different hearings, not arguing the case for or against pornography but pointing out that the resolution was badly worded, that it didn't consider not only what community standards are today but what they might be tomorrow, arguing against the imposing of a pornography \"combat zone\" on the black community by fiat. What I and other protesters had to say must have been right: the ordinance has always been sent back revision after the hearings.\n\nAnd so goes the life of a serious candidate. I've been there. From arguing the police budget to protesting high cab fares.\n\nActions speak louder than campaign literature.\n\nWhere were the others? Do we need a supervisor who plays it \"safe?\"\n\nIs my message clear? Do you understand what I'm saying?\n\nAnd now, for this particular group, the nitty-gritty. The issue that must not be ducked. One of the reasons why I have fought so hard for public office\u2014and run and run and run. As says the Harvey Milk doll: You wind him up and he runs for public office.\n\nWhy?\n\nBecause I think there is a tremendous and vital difference between a \"friend of the Gay community\" and an avowed Gay in public office. Gays have now been slandered nationwide. We have been tarred with the brush of pornography, we have been libelously accused in the Dade County Affair. It is enough to have a \"friend\" represent us, no matter how good a \"friend\" he or she may be. The Black community made up its mind to that long ago when they realized that the myths about Blacks could only be dispelled by electing black leaders, so that the Black community could be judged by those leaders and not by black criminals and myths.\n\nThe Spanish community should not be judged by Latin criminals and myths.\n\nThe Asian community should not be judged by Asian criminals and myths.\n\nThe Italian community should not be judged by the Mafia myths.\n\nNeither should the Gay community be judged by its minutely few Gay criminals and myths. Like every other group, we should be judged by our leaders. By those who are themselves Gay. By those who are visible. For invisible, we remain in limbo. A shadowy myth, a person who has no parents, no brothers, no sisters, no friends who are straight, no important positions of employment. A tenth of the nation composed solely of stereotypes and would-be seducers of small children\u2014and no offense intended to the stereotypes.\n\nWell, the Black community is not judged by its \"friends\" but by its black legislators and leaders. We must give people outside our community the chance to judge us by our Gay legislators and leaders. A gay person in office can set a tone, can command respect not only from that larger community but from young people in our own community who need both examples and . . . hope.\n\nThe first Gay person we elect must be strong, a fighter, one who is not content to sit in the back of the bus. He must be above wheeling and dealing. If I had been a wheeler and dealers, I would be on the Board of Permit Appeals today. If I had been content with the back of bus, I wouldn't have broken party ranks. The first Gay person to be elected must for the good of all of us, be truly independent. Unbossed and unbought!\n\nAnd now we come to the past two weeks.\n\nWhere have the other District 5 candidates been? Feelings were running high, there was the potential danger of riots. Where were the other District 5 candidates, particularly the Gay ones from this district? We had our street marches, and they were nationwide. Six thousand here, six thousand in Chicago, nine thousand in Houston, thousands more in L.A. and who knows how many in New York and elsewhere. A nation of Gay people knew that this was our Watts, our Selma, Alabama.\n\nThey were angry. Frustrated. They wanted the world to know it. So they took to the streets. I was there every night. And I was proud to be there. I felt it was important to be there to understand and to know the tone of the people in the street. I felt that I might be of some help.\n\nFrom that first Friday night, it almost did get out of hand. It got ugly. I and a few others talked to the crowd and said what had to be said. But where were our elected leaders? Where were the other candidates? Where were our Gay candidates and gay public officials? A public official has the aura of public office. God knows it would have been easier for a public official than it was for the few others and myself.\n\nI think, perhaps, that too many of our elected and appointed leaders forget that their first duty is to lead. And the only way to lead is by example. I disapprove of almost everything that Joe Alioto stood for but I would never deny that he was a leader, that he understood the power of a public office and how to use it to lead.\n\nGeorge Moscone has been a great legislator and understood the power of that position. But that is leadership among legislators, it is not leadership among the people. Your mayor and your supervisors, the people elected or appointed to local public office, are the ones who front the barricades. And for whatever reason, Moscone has failed to use or understand his present power of office.\n\nAnd, so hid our appointed Gay leaders. They did not lead . . . It took a group of concerned Gay people to put out a statement warning of outsiders starting trouble in the Gay community. It was a heavy statement\u2014but if you were there you know it was a necessary one. No other Gay candidate signed it. I took a strong position about the tone of the parade this coming Sunday. I made enemies. But I felt it had to be said and since our gay appointed leaders said nothing, I did. And without the power and office behind me like others have.\n\nLeadership was called for and where were the other candidates?\n\nWell, no announcement for candidacy for public office can avoid overuse of the word \"I\" and I'm as guilty as anyone. And now it's time to tell you why I've run so persistently for public office.\n\nI'll never forget what it was like coming out.\n\nI'll never forget the looks on the faces of those who have lost hope whether it be young Gays or seniors or Blacks looking for that almost-impossible-to-find job or Latins trying to explain their problems and aspirations in a tongue that's foreign to them.\n\nI'll never forget that people are more important than buildings and neighborhoods more important than freeways.\n\nI've deliberately schedule this announcement for Gay Pride Week. I've watched a million people close their closet doors behind them and I know they cannot go back.\n\nI use the word \"I\" because I'm proud of myself.\n\nI stand here before you tonight because I'm proud of you.\n\nI've planned for some time to walk in the march on Sunday because I'm proud of my sisters and brothers.\n\nAnd I'm running for public office because I think it's time we've had a legislator who was gay and proud of that fact and one who will not walk away from the responsibilities that face such a legislator. I walked among the angry and frustrated after Dade county . . . I walked among the angry and sad gay sisters and brothers last night at City Hall and late last night as they lit candles and stood in silence on Castro Street reaching out for some symbolic thing that would give them hope.\n\nThese were strong people . . . people whose faces I knew from the shops, the streets, the meetings, and people whom I never saw before, but who I knew. They were strong and even they needed hope . . . and those young gays in Des Moines who are \"coming out\" and hear the Anita Bryant story\u2014to them the only thing that they have to look forward to is hope. And YOU have to give them hope.\n\nHope for a better world.\n\nHope for a better tomorrow.\n\nHope for a place to go to if the pressures at home are too great.\n\nHope that all will be alright.\n\nWithout hope not only the gays but the blacks, the seniors, the poor, the handicapped, the US's give up . . . if you help me get elected, that election. No, it is not my election, it is yours\u2014will mean that a green light is lit. A green light that says to all who feel lost and disenfranchised that you now can go forward\u2014it means hope and we\u2014no you and you and you and, yes, you got to give them hope.\nPART THREE\n\nSupervisor Milk Speaks\n26\n\n\"Harvey Speaks Out\"\n\nInterview, Bay Area Reporter, December 8, 1977\n\nFollowing his election in November 1977, Milk agreed to speak with journalist George Mendenhall of the politically important Bay Area Reporter newspaper. Ostensibly, the narrative extracted from the Mendenhall interview became Milk's first fulsome statement of goals, philosophy, ideology, and literal steps to be taken for reform during his time as City Supervisor. What follows is Milk's vision for change and unity as the City of San Francisco moved into 1978 with a new Board of Supervisors, which would be comprised of a Chinese American, an African American woman, a Jewish woman, and, of course, Milk, the city's first GLBTQ official. This new Board was, in Milk's estimation, the quintessence of San Francisco's \"city of neighborhoods\"\u2014a palpable demonstration of its diversity.\n\nMilk reminded Mendenhall of his motivation to run for office in the first place\u2014the notion that \"hope\" was vital to inspire in all people. Of course, \"hope\" was specifically centered on gay rights first and foremost for Milk. In another Bay Area Reporter piece a few weeks later, Milk wrote about this very inspiration: \"We can look to 1978 with the sparks of hope as we see the potential leap of Gay power taking place. Gay political power will move forward on many levels . . . the impact will be felt.\" In the Mendenhall interview, Milk discussed how he remembered what it was like to be a teenager discovering his sexuality. Milk's election, he averred, could potentially sound a clarion call to those in doubt and in hiding that there were possibilities for political power but, perhaps most vitally, for personal safety, empowerment, and happiness. He reiterated this memory and its connection to \"kids\" earlier that month when writing about his legacy, noting \"I think I've already achieved something. I think that it's been worth it. I got that phone call from Altoona, Pennsylvania [from a gay teenager who expressed to Milk that his election helped him come out], and there's at least one person out there who has hope . . . and after all, that's what it's all about.\" Milk's role in the process of voice and liberation was to prove to others that change could and will happen.\n\nMilk understood his role as the central GLBTQ leader in San Francisco and, perhaps, his stature as one of the most famous GLBTQ leaders in the nation. As with the \"You've Got to Have Hope\" speech, he wove his own ethos and personal experiences into a narrative with which others could connect. In a heteronormative society\u2014then in Milk's time, as is the case now\u2014where marginalization and (worse) invisibility are the central travails of GLBTQ peoples, Milk seemed to come to grips with his place in the movement. Oftentimes aligning himself with Martin Luther King, Jr., and analogizing the GLBTQ cause to the mainstream civil rights movement, he charged ahead with both credibility as the movement's primary leader and the stresses that came with the assumption of that very role.\n\nThe text below describes Milk's plans for improvement as he would take office the following month (January 1978). Those plans included the need for a gay caucus to suggest modes and policies for change, the importance of educating the GLBTQ community on issues of rights and privileges, the demand for motivating the GLBTQ community to exercise its duties in the enfranchisement process and in organizing in unified ways, and the need to work with officials like Mayor George Moscone to enact negotiated tactics in the service of social change.\n\n. . .\n\nB.A.R. is pleased to present excerpts from a taped speech by Supervisor-elect Harvey Milk. He spoke before the November meeting of the San Francisco Gay Democratic Club. . . .\n\nVICTORY\n\nI will never forget it. I cannot. I know where it comes from. I don't have any power or influence yet. It really doesn't take place until January 9.\n\nI am just a figurehead, the one who happened to step out of the back room. I am the one who happens to have done it. It is your victory, and I do not mean just the ones who worked and voted for me . . .\n\nThe opponents threw everything against us\u2014innuendos, phony endorsements, and all\u2014and we still won.\n\nWALKING FROM THE CASTRO\n\nThe swearing in will be at noon on Monday, Jan. 9. We will be walking from Castro Street.\n\nI was elected to represent the City of San Francisco and the 5th District. I also have a responsibility of being a Gay leader. I hope the walk will include everyone.\n\nIn the 98 precincts in the district, we were first in 60 and second in 33. We worked all over the district and our victory was broad-based. I knew that it would be.\n\nWHAT THIS VICTORY MEANS\n\nI ran three times before succeeding. Traditionally it is three strikes and you're \"out,\" but I play by different rules.\n\nWhen the mayor asked me a year ago what my motivation was, I told him that I remember what it was like to be 14 and Gay. I know that somewhere today there is a 14 year old child who discovers that he or she is Gay and learns that the family may throw that child out of the house. The police will harass that child. The state will say that the child is a criminal and that the intelligence of the Anita Bryants will be screaming at that child. Maybe that child read in the newspaper, \"Homosexual Elected in San Francisco,\" and that child has two options: move to San Francisco or stay in San Antonio or Des Moines and fight. The child has hope.\n\nTHE OBLIGATION OF GAY PEOPLE\n\nPicture a country of hundreds of Gay clubs and organizations. National conventions with 8,000 people who are electing to national office friends of the Gay community. Maybe we never had it so good, compared with what went before, but the future can be greater.\n\nWe are now split: Republicans, Democrats, Socialists, Independents. Many people say, \"I cannot get involved in politics and why should I? Who is going to bother us here?\"\n\nWe must begin now to be involved so statespersons will go out and change the laws. It can still happen here as it did in Germany. The Briggs' are the Hitlers. If the Briggs' win, they will not stop. They will taste victory . . .\n\nIt is vital that people join Gay groups even if they cannot attend the meetings. We must have members. The politicians want to know how many people are involved. Our protection is strength.\n\nIf we don't have the money, we must have numbers. We must register people to vote. Gay people have registered 5,000 voters in front of my camera store on Castro. . . . When I first started the Castro Street Fair the city would not close the street for me. The next year I took them photos of the crowds that had been there and they closed the street.\n\nLEARNING & BUILDING GAY POWER\n\nThere were an incredible number of speeches made at the Democratic National Convention about rights, rights, rights\u2014but we could not get a Gay plank into the platform. This is so even though we make up 5\u20137% in a voting bloc. They walked away from us. My answer to that is that we shall never again go back. We must start to build toward the national convention so that we cannot be ignored. . . . The Jewish vote is estimated at a 4% bloc vote. The Democratic convention was geared to get that Jewish vote.\n\nWe have to start to learn what to do and what not to do. We must educate ourselves as the Black movement and the Jewish movements have done. Why have they been so successful and why have we been such a failure? We may not find the answers immediately, but we will learn and we will make our presence felt.\n\nWhen \"push comes to shove,\" there are more of them than there are of us. We are going to need their support, and we had better start playing their games now. We must get into battles such as the International Hotel or whatever. We should work openly as Gay people so they know who is supporting them; so they will be there when we need their support.\n\nGet involved in someone's campaign for the June primary elections. Let them know that you are Gay. If they don't want you, we will be finding out who is who.\n\nA STRATEGY FOR GAY POWER\n\nWe must have a statewide caucus of Gay people, not just Gay Democrats, but also Gay Republicans, Socialists, Communists, Fascists and Independents. Then we must invite all of the candidates for state office to speak to us\u2014not about the aerospace industry, but about their positions on Gay rights.\n\nThe time has come to embarrass our friends. We must ask ourselves some questions now that will have to be asked sooner or later. We can sit in the back of the bus where we may get shoved out when it is unpopular to have us around. We might as well find out now who our real friends are. If it embarrasses certain candidates, so be it. I am embarrassed by some of them.\n\nNATIONAL STRENGTH\n\nWe must begin now to put together a statewide movement and learn from our mistakes in doing that. Maybe in three years we can have our own nationwide convention and invite the national candidates to find out where they are. If neither presidential candidate shows up, there may be a third candidate. There is no reason why we should vote Democratic or Republican just because we are ourselves Republican or Democratic.\n\nWhat good is a nation which is economically healthy, that is beautifully run, if you are in jail because you are Gay. We must learn from history that the time for riding in the back of the bus is over; that we must ride up front or ride by ourselves. We must make that decision\u2014not just for ourselves but for that young person in Altoona, Pennsylvania . . .\n\nTHE BOARD PRESIDENCY\n\nFive of the ten on the coming Board want to be President, and they are very nice to me. Eventually, I will vote for one of them. Then I will have the other four to worry about.\n\nThe freshmen on the new Board may get together and share their thoughts. I have had two meetings with Supervisor-elect Dan White, who is thought of as all for Mother, God, and Apple Pie. He seemed comfortable at the Oyster House on Castro [where the two met and dined].\n\nThere are many issues: speculation, rent control, etc. I believe that we will have the votes on the new Board on Upper Market Street. I would like to see the new Gay ordinance (expanding Gay employment rights citywide) considered by the new Board so we can see how they vote. . . .\n\nRELATIONSHIP WITH THE MAYOR\n\nI went in to see the mayor when I was elected this time. I told him, \"When I criticize you, you will hear it first in this office. It is only if there is no satisfaction that they will start to hear it outside. There are certain things that the Gay community wants and needs. I will be lobbying and watching. . . . As soon as I decide who I personally think should be the next mayor, I will come and tell you. You will be the first to hear it.\"\n\nTHE MAYOR'S RACE\n\nIf Mayor Moscone, who made promises to us a couple weeks ago (in a published transcript in B.A.R.), does not live up to them, look for the next candidate. He knows that he made some promises and we can no longer just sit back and let promises be enough. We must have our share\u2014no more, but no less. He has two years.\n\nWe must get involved in the mayor's race. If the mayor does not live up to his promises, then we will be involved in finding another candidate. He knows that. You are going to make the difference. Not me.\n\nLast time I said early, \"With five major candidates for mayor and two possible in the run-off, we can wait until close to the election and then say, 'We offer you enough votes to put you in the run-off and this is what we want. . . .'\" Many \"leaders\" in the Gay community who were desirous to retain their token positions let this slip out of our hands. They stopped the Gay community from making a major move at that point. Let us never let that happen again.\n\nWORKING TOGETHER\n\nWe must stop fighting among ourselves because someone is not liberal enough or someone is not conservative enough or someone doesn't have the right personality. We must stop fighting and work together. Even if we can't stand each other, we have to work together. . . . There are also lots of people still \"coming out\" and you know what they are going through. Some are petrified about their careers. They need us to help them in their coming out.\n\nFOCUS ON THE GAY ISSUE\n\nIt is not that the Gay issue is more important or that the other issues do not count, but we must focus on the Gay issue. There is no reason why other groups cannot discuss Gay issues. We cannot allow them off the hook.\n\nI understand the problems of Women, Blacks, Chicanos and others, but I don't want to give them a way out. We are the only group discriminated against by the law. I would like to see support for us on this one issue.\n\nI don't think that we should fall into the trap of trying to accomplish too much and allow others to say, \"We are for human rights and thank you very much.\" I have heard that too often. . . . I don't see other movements speaking out against Briggs.\n\nI want to say to the governor, \"We know where you stand on employing women. We read it in the papers. How many Gay people do you employ?\" I don't see Governor Brown dumping some orange juice and announcing, \"Enough of Anita Bryant.\"\n\nMY COMMITMENT\n\nI have already scheduled meetings in the Haight area. There are about 15 District 5 neighborhood and association meetings a month. Either one of my two aides or myself will be at those meetings. I will also be available and accessible to the broader community and the Gay community.\n\nWe have to keep pushing. The mayor was right when he said, \"The supervisors would have closed Polk Street for Halloween if there had been 70,000 head of cattle down there.\" How far do we push?\n\nWe must be strong and be heard. We must push as hard as they push and then push a little stronger.\n\nSince I speak as a Gay person, I am very much aware of the responsibility that I have. I will make mistakes, and when I do, my aides will remind me of them. I hope that the mistakes will not be too serious.\n27\n\n\"A City of Neighborhoods: First Major Address I and II\"\n\nReprinted speech, Bay Area Reporter, January 10, 1978, and February 2, 1978\n\nThe day following his inauguration, Milk attended a fundraising dinner for the California State Democratic Committee. Though Lieutenant Governor Mervyn Dymally, who was running for re-election, was the official keynote speaker, all anecdotal accounts (most notably journalist Randy Shilts's impressions in his book The Mayor of Castro Street) indicate that Milk stole the show. Speaking of Dymally, Milk noted in a letter to his movement that the politician was \"more than a good 'friend'\" because he had taken a stand alongside the gay liberation movement. In fact, part of the fundraising dinner was dedicated to helping Dymally win the election, as he had \"been singled out by the conservative Republicans for defeat\" due, in part, to this very support. This message carried over to Milk's \"City of Neighborhoods\" address presented here. Seen in this public limelight was his charming and theatrical delivery that had so attracted people in San Francisco to his causes, leadership, and personality. During this first \"official\" speech as Supervisor, Milk relished the media attention he received and set the lively tone for his future public addresses as one of the city's most popular politicians. In the speech that follows, as one might expect from a populist, his message spotlighted the importance of San Francisco's diversity and the class idea that people matter more than \"big business.\" To remedy the influence of those big businesses purporting to \"transform the city,\" Milk's discourse here took as its core issue the importance of people in San Francisco lifting themselves out the problems befalling the city\u2014crime, overpopulation, gentrification, and discrimination against Latina\/os, African Americans, and the GLBTQ community. He was always concerned about those people living outside the city who commuted in to work. These folks, Milk was fond of noting, did not care much for San Francisco's neighborhoods. They only felt \"condemned to live in them\"; these were heteronormative white-flighters who could barely wait to move away from the city's centers.\n\nIn the end, Milk's message in this document is another example of his populist rhetoric. San Francisco was about people, about communities blending together in powerful ways to improve communal and public life. His victory was for all in the city; as he wrote in the Noe Valley Voice a month after the speech that follows, \"[The election] must be taken as a victory for the entire districts and not any one part. I accept this widely-based, broad support with warmth.\" To Milk, only \"the people\" could save San Francisco, a municipal mecca that could potentially be the city of the future. San Francisco, according to Milk, could mean \"new directions, new alliances, new solutions for ancient problems.\"\n\n. . .\n\nIn 1977, a large seaport city on the East Coast voted to take away the rights of some people. Later that year, a large seaport town on the West Coast voted into office one of those same people. That same West Coast city once had a frightening nightmare of the future\u2014and the next morning promptly voted against Richard Nixon. That same city voted to decriminalize marijuana and now sees states like Mississippi follow its lead.\n\nThat city, our city\u2014San Francisco\u2014has now broken the last major dam of prejudice in this country and in so doing has done what no other city has done before.\n\nHow does one thank a city? I hope, with all my heart, that I can do the job that I have been charged to do and do it so well that the questions raised by my election will be buried once and forever\u2014and that other cities once again will follow San Francisco's lead.\n\nI understand very well that my election was not alone a question of my gayness but a question of what I represent. In a very real sense, Harvey Milk represents the spirit of the neighborhoods of San Francisco. For the past few years, my fight to make the voices of the neighborhoods of this city be heard was not unlike the fight to make the voice of the cities themselves be heard.\n\nLet's make no mistake about this: The American Dream stands with the neighborhoods. If we wish to rebuild our cities, we must first rebuild our neighborhoods. And to do that, we must understand that the quality of life is more important than the standard of living. To sit on the front steps\u2014whether it's a veranda in a small town or a concrete stoop in a big city\u2014and talk to our neighbors is infinitely more important than to huddle on the living room lounger and watch a make-believe world in not-quite living color.\n\nProgress is not America's only business\u2014and certainly not its most important. Isn't it strange that as technology advances, the quality of life so frequently declines? Oh, washing the dishes is easier. Dinner itself is easier\u2014just heat and serve, though it might be more nourishing if we ate the ads and threw the food away. And we no longer fear spots on our glassware when guests come over. But then, of course, our friends are too afraid to come to our house and [we] to go to theirs.\n\nAnd I hardly need to tell you that in that 19- or 24-inch view of the world, cleanliness has long since eclipsed godliness. Soon we'll all smell, look and actually be laboratory clean, as sterile on the inside as on the out. The perfect consumer, surrounded by the latest appliances. The perfect audience, with a ringside seat to almost any event in the world, without smell, taste, and feel\u2014alone and unhappy in the vast wasteland of our living rooms.\n\nI think that what we actually need, of course, is a little more dirt on the seat of our pants as we sit on the front stoop and talk to our neighbors once again, enjoying the type of summer day where the smell of garlic travels slightly faster than the speed of sound.\n\nThere's something missing in the sanitized life we lead. Something that our leaders in Washington can never supply by simple edict, something that the commercials on television never advertise because nobody's yet found a way to bottle it or box it or can it. What's missing is the touch, the warmth, the meaning of life. A four-color spread in Time is no substitute for it. Neither is a 30-second commercial or a reassuring Washington press conference.\n\nI spent many years on both Wall Street and Montgomery Street and I fully understand the debt and responsibility that major corporations owe their shareholders. I also fully understand the urban battlefields of New York and Cleveland and Detroit. I see the faces of the unemployed\u2014and the unemployable\u2014of this city. I've seen the faces in Chinatown, Hunters Point, the Mission and the Tenderloin and I don't like what I see.\n\nOddly, I'm also reminded of the most successful slogan a business ever coined: the customer is always right.\n\nWhat's been forgotten is that those people of the Tenderloin and Hunters Point, those people in the streets are the customers, certainly potential ones, and they must be treated as such. Government cannot ignore them. Businesses ignore them. What sense is there in making products if the would-be customer can't afford to buy them? It's not alone a question of price, it's a question of ability to pay. For a man with no money, 99????? reduced from $1.29 is still a fortune.\n\nAmerican business must realize that while the shareholders always come first, the care and feeding of their customer is a close second. They have a debt and a responsibility to that customer and the city in which he or she lives, the cities in which they the businesses themselves live or in which it grew up in. To throw away a senior citizen after they've nursed you through childhood is wrong. To treat a city as disposable once your business has prospered is equally wrong and even more short-sighted.\n\nUnfortunately for those who would like to flee them, the problems of the cities don't stop at the city limits. There are no moats around our cities that keep the problems in. What happens in New York or San Francisco will eventually happen in San Jose. It's just a matter of time. And like the flu, it usually gets worse the further it travels.\n\nOur cities MUST NOT be abandoned. They're worth fighting for not just by those who live in them but by industry, commerce, unions, everyone. Not alone because they represent the past, but because they also represent the future. Your children will live there and hopefully so will your grandchildren. For all practical purposes, the eastern corridor from Boston to Newark will be one vast strip city. So will the areas from Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Gary, Indiana. In California, it will be that fertile crescent of asphalt and neon that stretches from Santa Barbara to San Diego. Will urban blight travel to the arteries of the freeways? Of course it will\u2014unless we stop it.\n\nSo the challenge of the '80's will be to awaken the consciousness of industry and commerce to the part they must play in saving the cities which nourished them. Every company realizes it must constantly invest in its own physical plant to remain healthy and grow. Well, the cities are a part of that plant and the people who live in them are part of the cities. They're all connected; what effects one affects the others.\n\nIn short, the cheapest place to manufacture a product may not be the cheapest place at all, if it results in throwing your customers out of work. There's no sense in making television sets in Japan if the customers in the United States haven't the money to buy them. Industry must actively seek to employ those without work, to train those who have no skills. \"Labor intensive\" is not a dirty word, not every job is done better by machine. It has become the job of industry not only to create the product, but also to create the customer.\n\nCostly? I don't think so. It's far less expensive than the problem of fully loaded docks and no customers. And there are additional returns: lower rates of crime, smaller welfare loads. And in having your friends and neighbors sitting on that well-polished front stoop.\n\nIndustry and business has made our country the greatest military and economic power in the world. Now I think it's time to look at our future with a realistic eye. I don't think the American Dream necessarily includes two cars in every garage and a dispose-all in every kitchen. What it does need is an educational system with incentives. To spend 12 years at school\u2014almost a fifth of your life\u2014without a job at the other end is meaningless. Every ghetto child has the right to ask: Education for what?\n\nIt's time for our system to mature, to face the problem it's created, to take responsibility for the problems it's ignored. Criminals aren't born, they're made\u2014made by a socio\/economic system that has turned crime into a production line phenomena. \"In 1977 there were so many burglaries per second, so many murders per hour . . .\"\n\nIt sounds simplistic to constantly say that jobs are part of the answer. But there are things to consider. As huge as they are, corporations and companies frequently have more flexibility than the people who work for them. A headquarters company can leave town, a factory can literally pull up stakes and move someplace else. But the workers they leave behind frequently can't. The scare that's left isn't just the empty office building or the now vacant lot; it's the worker who can no longer provide for his family, the teenager who suddenly awakens from the American Dream to find that all the jobs have gone south for the duration.\n\nIt was an expensive move the company made. You see the empty buildings but you don't see the hopelessness, the loss of pride, the anger. You've done a lot more than just lost a customer. And when I say losing a customer, I don't mean just your customer. There are other businesses and when they move or shift, the people they leave behind are also your customers, just like you are theirs.\n\nI think, perhaps, many companies feel that \"city\" is a form of charity. I think it more accurate to consider it a part of the cost of doing business, that it should be entered on the books as amortizing the future. I would like to see business and industry consider it as such because I think there's more creativity, more competence perhaps, in business than there is in government. I think that business could turn the South of Market area not only into an industrial park but a neighborhood as well. To coin a pun, too many of our cities have a complex, in fact, too many complexes. We don't need another concrete jungle that dies the moment you turn off the lights in the evening. What we need is a neighborhood where people can walk to work, raise their kids, enjoy life.\n\nIt's that simple.\n\nAnd now, I suspect, some of the businesspeople in this room are figuring\u2014perhaps rightly\u2014that they've heard all this before. Why is it always business that's supposed to save the city? Why us? Why isn't somebody else doing something? How about you, for a change, Harvey? What the hell are the rest of the people in this room doing?\n\nAnd you've got a point. But I merely suggested that business must help, that we must open up a dialog that involves all of us. Business decisions aren't his or hers alone for the simple reason that they effect far more people than just him or her. And we have to consider those other people. These are the ghosts that sit on your boards of directors and they must be respected.\n\nAnd now I think it's time that everybody faced reality. Real reality. So for the next few minutes, it's going to be slightly down and dirty.\n\nA small item in the newspaper the other day indicated what the future might be like. Mayor Koch of New York turned his back on the elegance of Gracie Mansion and opted for the comforts of his three-room apartment\u2014and I'll refrain from any comparison to our good Governor.\n\nMr. Koch chose his three-room apartment because he likes it. Nothing more complicated than that. He likes it.\n\nAnd believe it or not, that's the wave of the future. The cities will be saved. The cities will be governed. But they won't be run from three thousand miles away in Washington, they won't be run from the state-house, and most of all they won't be run by the carpetbaggers who have fled to the suburbs. You can't run a city by people who don't live there, any more than you can have an effective police force made up of people who don't live there. In either case, what you've got is an occupying army.\n\nThe cities will be saved. The cities will be run. They'll be saved and they'll be run by the people who live in them, by the people who like to live in them. You can see it in parts of Manhattan . . . on the far north side of Chicago, and you can certainly see it in San Francisco.\n\nWho's done the most for housing in our city? The Federal Government? The State? Who's actually renovating this city, who's buying the houses and using their own sweat and funds to restore them and make them liveable? And just how many homes do you think that includes by now? How many thousands? The people who are doing this are doing it out of love for the city. They're renovating not only the physical plant, they're renovating the spirit of the city as well.\n\nThe cities will not be saved by the people who feel condemned to live in them, who can hardly wait to move to Marin or San Jose\u2014or Evanston or Westchester. The cities will be saved by the people who like it here. The people who prefer the neighborhood stores to the shopping mall, who go to the plays and eat in the restaurants and go to the discos and worry about the education the kids are getting even if they have no kids of their own. . . .\n\nThat's not just the city of the future, it's the city of today. It means new directions, new alliances, new solutions for ancient problems. The typical American family with two cars in the garage and 2.2 kids doesn't live here any more. It hasn't for years. The demographics are different now and we all know it. The city is a city of singles and young marrieds, a city of the retired and the poor, a city of many colors who speak in many tongues.\n\nThat city will run itself, it will create its own solutions. District elections was not the end, it was just the beginning. We'll solve our problems\u2014with your help if we can, without it if we must. We need your help\u2014I don't deny that\u2014but you also need us. We're your customers. We're your future.\n\nI'm riding into that future and frankly I don't know if I'm wearing the fabled helm of Mambrino on my head or if I'm wearing a barber's basin. I guess we wear what we want to wear, we fight what we want to fight. Maybe I see dragons where there are windmills. But, something tells me the dragons are for real and if I shatter a lance or two on a whirling blade, maybe I'll catch a dragon in the bargain.\n\nSo I'm asking you to take a chance and ride with me against the windmills\u2014and against the dragons, too. To make the quality of life in San Francisco what it should be, to help our city set the example, to set the style, to show the rest of the country what a city can really be. To prove that Miami's vote was a step backwards and that San Francisco's was too forward.\n\nYesterday, my esteemed colleague on the Board said that we cannot live on hope alone. The important thing is not that we cannot live on hope alone, but that life is not worth living without it. If the story of Don Quixote means anything, it means that the spirit of life is just as important as the substance.\n\nWhat others may see as a barber's basin, you and I know is that glittering, legendary helmet.\n28\n\n\"The Word Is Out\"\n\nPublic letter, February 1, 1978\n\nOn occasion, Milk used his new political office to take nonlegislative stands on issues related to gay rights. In October 1977, the Canadian province of Quebec passed a law banning discrimination against GLBTQ communities in the public franchise, workplace, and schools. The larger English-speaking Canadian nation refused to do so, and, in fact, key political leaders spoke out against protecting GLBTQ folks. Actually, some Canadian officials went so far as to suggest that GLBTQ individuals not receive workplace rights, in particular, at all. Milk called this discrimination \"economic sanctions.\" Just as he had done with the Coors beer episode, Milk specifically insisted on a boycott as a tangible tactic. In a different memo a few days later than the document presented below, he wrote, \"I strongly support a boycott of tourism in the English-speaking Canadian provinces in order to get those governments to recognize the rights of their gay citizens.\" He felt the need to issue a remonstration against the Canadian government; the press release below represents his larger protest. Note that Milk's discussion hints at a pan-GLBTQ community\u2014the insistence that there was a GLBTQ diaspora that could come together in order to countermand Canada's willingness to support public homophobia. Moreover, it is clear that Milk worked through coalition building in connecting other minority groups to the GLBTQ community's causes. Essentially, the press release spoke to Milk's promise to use his office not just for gradualist strategies of negotiation when dealing with policy decisions but also for clear and ideologically potent immediatism regarding issues of gay rights. The release also demonstrated Milk's commitment to global causes in addition to those situated in the local San Francisco scene.\n\n. . .\n\nThe word is out . . . The word is out that we are out . . . That just as the black community tossed aside the establishment's wanting blacks to \"stay in their place\" so too does the gay community toss aside the establishment's concept that we will \"stay in our closets.\" . . .\n\nThe word is out that we will no longer go forth with hat in hand and be thankful for a crumb. . . . The word is out that we want our fair share . . . Not more, no less . . . And that we will demand our fair share.\n\nThe word is out that if the Canadian government wants to apply economic sanctions against the gay community, that the gay community of the United States will apply economic sanctions against the English speaking Canadian provinces whenever possible.\n\nThe word is out that discrimination against blacks or women or Spanish or gays or French-speaking peoples is discrimination against all people. The word is out that to attack one minority is to attack all minorities.\n\nThe word is out, and let the Canadian government and all bigots hear it loud and clear. Gay people are coming out, speaking out and we have no more intention of going back into our closets than black people have of going back into chains and slavery.\n29\n\n\"Letter to 'Abe' on Domestic Politics\"\n\nPrivate letter, February 7, 1978\n\nMilk wrote a number of personal letters involving political matters. In the one that follows, he addressed Abe Forten, a local businessperson and Chamber of Commerce leader, about the difficulties of people outside the city making their living in San Francisco. His words here echo his \"City of Neighborhoods\" speech, wherein he said, \"the cities will not be saved by the people who feel condemned to live in them, who can hardly wait to move to Marin or San Jose\u2014or Evanston or Westchester. The cities will be saved by the people who like it here. The people who prefer the neighborhood stores to the shopping mall, who go to the plays and eat in the restaurants and go to the discos and worry about the education the kids are getting even if they have no kids of their own.\" Milk was particularly upset about businesses setting up shop in town only to force their ideas for city planning while actual residents had to sit by idly as their neighborhoods changed around them. The letter below indicates a change of tenor for the city, at least as Milk perceived it. To him, San Francisco's old guard, business-centric ideologies were gone; instead, a people-oriented city had replaced big business. Milk argued that the city's big change was its dynamic and diverse people. \"The old minorities have become the new majorities,\" he wrote. No longer primarily white and middle class, San Francisco was witnessing a change in ethnic makeup and class composition. The city was becoming a bastion of working class folks of myriad races, nationalities, and heritages. A November 1977 Bay Area Reporter article discussed these shifts as they related to the 1977 citywide elections, where \"the white Richmond District elected an Asian, Gordon Lau, while the area that includes Chinatown elected an Italian, John Molinari.\" This mix of people sought to control their own destinies, and Milk stood as an advocate for his city's many diverse neighborhoods. Not much is known about Abe Forten, but he stands as a synecdochal business leader\u2014one of the people whom Milk approached about adjusting to the city's economic changes and populace shifts.\n\n. . .\n\nAbe:\n\nYou have my \"foreign policy\" . . . here are some thoughts on one of my \"domestic policies.\"\n\nPeople who make their money in San Francisco, but don't live in San Francisco have at best an intellectual\/financial commitment to the City. But they don't have an emotional commitment. They're not emotionally involved with the problems of the Police Department, the Fire Department, the conditions of the streets, the Muni, housing, etc. And it's that emotional commitment that makes all the difference.\n\nAs a Supervisor and as a resident, I think that I can truthfully be described as \"patriotic\" when it comes to San Francisco. The most I'm doing when I attack people who make their money here but don't live here is accusing them of a lack of local patriotism. Good God, the local boosters want the baseball team to stay in San Francisco, or the local football team, or whatever. What's wrong in asking the business leaders of the city to stay in the city as well? It's the same sort of boosterism.\n\nHow can the business leaders ask new industry and commerce to move to the city if they themselves don't? How can the business leaders ask people\u2014families\u2014to move back to the city if they themselves don't? The business leaders have a great opportunity to lead . . . to stop the exodus. To turn the tide. To start to move back to the city that they say they love.\n\nNobody has any intention of forcing people to live in San Francisco. In one sense, that would be denying them their right to live wherever they want. But then, aren't those who have to live here\u2014the poor, the retired\u2014also being denied their rights if these outsiders run the city?\n\nThis is going to be an unpopular statement, but I think it might be a true one. Those of us who are left behind, or who desire to stay in the cities, are compelled to deal with the city's problems. We have to. It's only natural that we resent those who copped out, those who fled to the sanctuaries of suburbia but who still make their money from the city and want to run it their way.\n\nIn considering the problems of the cities, one factor becomes of extreme importance: the old minorities have become the new majorities. The city is no longer primarily white, established, middle class, or even primarily married with children. It's yellow, brown, black, with a steady influx into the middle economic class of people who were formerly lower economic class. It's also increasingly young marrieds with no children, or young couples who aren't married, or extended families, or gays, or singles, and most certainly seniors. Some of the answers they see for the problems of the cities may differ drastically from some of the answers desired by those who used to live in the city but no longer do so. Above all else, we must consider the new demographics of the new city.\n\nIt should also be obvious, in considering the cities, that America is no longer in the position of tearing down and building anew. We no longer have those kind of resources. We no longer have that kind of wealth. And, increasingly we no longer have that desire. America is becoming Europeanized. In many cases, it's cheaper to renovate than to rebuild. And it may be more aesthetically pleasing. The new generation doesn't live in the future alone; it also lives in the past. We have an ancestry; we have roots. It's nice to be able to look at that ancestry as we walk down the street. With the past still part of the present, we won't suffer so much from future shock.\n30\n\n\"Letter to Council Members re Judging People by Myths\"\n\nPublic letter, March 13, 1978\n\nOne of the issues Milk was most passionate about that related to gay rights involved the popular and public misrepresentation of GLBTQ communities. He was specifically concerned about stereotypes and how a homophobic America accepted the \"myths\" passed around by a larger hegemonic system of oppression that painted GLBTQ folks into a corner of deviance. As he wrote in this letter to his fellow City Supervisors, his election as the city's first GLBTQ political leader held the promise to shake up these myths. Of course, such stereotypes often translated into public policy, as it did for California State Senator John Briggs and his campaign, later in 1978, to ban GLBTQ individuals from working in public education. The specter of such myths were raised during Anita Bryant's 1977 \"Save Our Children\" campaign that become the template for Briggs' initiative. Calling GLBTQ people \"human garbage\" and aligning them discursively with prostitutes, pimps, and drug dealers, Bryant\u2014followed by Briggs\u2014fashioned a popular rhetorical career by misrepresenting GLBTQ communities. Just under a year following \"Orange Tuesday,\" Milk was back to stemming the tide of homophobic ideologies as he moved to curb yet another anti-GLBTQ campaign. This initiative, Proposition 6 (the Briggs Initiative), was ripe with stereotypes issued by Briggs. He often talked about GLBTQ teachers recruiting their students and in one pro-Proposition 6 pamphlet he reproduced pictures of men in drag with the caption, \"Take a good look at this man in this photo wearing an earring and fingernail polish. Ask yourself this question, 'Is this the kind of man I want teaching my children?'\" Obviously playing to performative stereotypes, the underlying messages of Briggs' rhetoric was one of bigotry through essentialization. Also, a New Times article reports that Briggs' television spots often included \"still photographs of young boys killed by homosexual Dean Allen Corll of Houston and of the victims of the trash bag murders in California, followed by film of their bodies being dug up or lifted out of garbage cans.\" In this example, Briggs equated every GLBTQ individual with one particular criminal\u2014who just happened to be gay. By extension, Briggs attempted to convince Californians that GLBTQ folks were dangerous\u2014in the classroom and elsewhere. As he was fond of saying, \"What scares me is people going into the booth and voting for that last great taboo.\"\n\nMilk's present letter likely came as a precursor to his internal Board campaign to urge for a gay rights ordnance for the City of San Francisco. The law would protect GLBTQ communities against discrimination in the workplace and in education. Moreover, safeguards against police brutality and economic discrimination (i.e., banking, loans) would later be considered as a part of the reform Milk urged. Milk was successful in getting committee support, and ultimately he persuaded the Board to vote in the affirmative. But he never had a chance to see the citywide law come to fruition, as he would be assassinated some eight months later by fellow Board Supervisor Dan White. Coincidentally and tellingly, White was the only Board Supervisor to vote against Milk's gay rights ordnance.\n\n. . .\n\nDear Council Members:\n\nAs the only openly gay elected official in California, I would like to share with you a few comments on what my election to the San Francisco board of Supervisors means.\n\nFor too many years, gay people have generally not taken any active part in the government. For many years, many gay people, feeling disenfranchised, have given up hope for a better tomorrow. Hope that all will be right. Hope that the system does in fact work.\n\nWith that kind of background, many gay people and their energies are not put into use in the democratic society that we have.\n\nWe have learned from the past that once any group of people who are excluded from the system are brought into it, they not only dispel the fears and myths about them, but also add greatly to the general welfare of the society. So it was in the earlier days of this nation when the Irish were regarded as second class citizens, so it was with the Asians who worked on the railroads, so it was with the Blacks, the Jews, the Spanish-speaking persons. We no longer judge any of these people by their myths about them. We judge them by their elected officials and their leaders.\n\nNow we have come to the test of our tolerance. We are judging gay people by the very few gay criminals and the myths about gay people. As more and more gay people move into positions of leadership, we are seeing all the myths being shattered. We are finding out as one of our presidents once stated, that \"We have nothing to fear but fear itself.\"\n\nI have found out since my election that gay people and other minorities across the nation see in my election a symbol of hope. That if I can achieve my position that [means that] the system is now open to all people, be they Black, Brown, Asians, the handicapped, seniors or gays. My election was a green light that the nation says we can all indeed move forward.\n\nThe future will follow the paths of prior history. Sooner or later, gay people will follow the roads of the Irish, Jews, Asians, Blacks, and Latins we have all accepted. And as that happens, more people will be given hope. While one cannot live on hope alone, I feel strongly that without hope, life is not worth living. Thus, the move toward acceptance of all people and their rights follows in the great tradition of this nation.\n\nGay Pride Week means just that. In San Francisco, we now not only recognize the importance of that Week, we now fund the Gay Pride Parade. We understand the need to give a nation of people hope. Nothing more, nothing less. Giving hope is, indeed, the greatest thing that any elected official can give.\n\nWarmly,\n\nHarvey Milk\n31\n\n\"Resolution Requiring State Department to Close the South African Consulate\" and \"Closing the Consulate\"\n\nPress releases, March 22, 1978\n\nA champion of human rights, Milk often took stands on international issues, for as he reasoned oppression knew no region, color, gender, religion, or sexuality. As a populist, he was committed to coalition building in San Francisco, to be sure. But he also viewed the joint oppression of people across geographical boundaries as vital to those in his own community. Milk was quoted in a 1978 Desert Sun article issuing a charge to President Jimmy Carter: \"I'm tired of all the silence from the White House. Jimmy Carter, you talk about human rights\u2014in fact, you want to be the world's leader for human rights. Well, damn it, lead!\" His suggested resolutions to close the South African Consulate and to withdraw investments in South Africa in the midst of the segregationist policy of apartheid spoke to his emphasis on human rights. His commitment in this milieu was similar to his challenge to the Canadian government to withdraw its proposed homophobic initiatives. As Milk told his supporters in two letters (also included) asking them to attend the Board of Supervisors meeting where the resolution would be debated, \"I think this would be an emphatic statement that San Franciscans support human rights for all people and are outraged at the South African government's continuing policies of racial hatred.\" In the end, the resolutions garnered support from the Board of Supervisors but did not move beyond the governmental channels from there. Regardless, the four documents below exhibit just how passionate Milk was about joint oppression. Even in the crucible of San Francisco's and California's own struggles in 1978\u2014not too mention the travails of Milk's own GLBTQ community\u2014he took the time and energy to include a much larger public than his \"city of neighborhoods\" in his reform goals.\n\n. . .\n\nDear Friend,\n\nI appreciate your interest in supporting the human rights of blacks in South Africa. As you may know, there are currently two resolutions in the Board of Supervisors which would be strong statements of San Francisco's outrage at the South African government's continuing policies of racial hatred.\n\nI have introduced a resolution requesting the State Department to close the South African consulate here. And a resolution was introduced recently by Supervisors Hutch, Silver, Feinstein and myself urging withdrawal of investments from South Africa.\n\nBoth resolutions will be up for a public hearing in the State and National Affairs Committee on Friday, April 7 at 2:00 PM in Room 228, City Hall.\n\nI urge you to attend the meeting to express your concerns. Hopefully, the Board will take these strong actions and your support would be very helpful.\n\nWarmly,\n\nHarvey Milk\n\nDear Friends:\n\nOn January 30th, I introduced a resolution in the Board of Supervisors requesting the State Department to close the South African consulate in San Francisco.\n\nI think this would be an emphatic statement that San Franciscans support human rights for all people and are outraged at the South African government's continuing policies of racial hatred.\n\nThe matter will most likely come before the Board's State and National Affairs Committee on Friday, March 3 at 2:00 PM. The Committee is composed of Supervisors Gonzales, Pelosi and Silver.\n\nI would be deeply grateful for your support of this resolution, both in testimony before the Committee in letters to the Committee members. If you are willing to testify, please call Dick Pabich at my office, so that we can organize the testimony. And please send me a copy of any correspondence you have with the Committee members.\n\nThank you for your interest.\n\nWarmly,\n\nHarvey Milk\n\nTHE STATE DEPARTMENT TO CLOSE THE SOUTH AFRICAN CONSULATE IN SAN FRANCISCO\n\nWHEREAS, The City and County of San Francisco has long upheld equal rights and opportunities for anyone regardless of race; and\n\nWHEREAS, The racial policies of the Republic of South Africa are a violation of the rights of many of its citizens; now therefore be it\n\nRESOLVED, That the Board of Supervisors requests the State Department to close the South African consulate in San Francisco.\n\nRESOLUTION URGING THE WITHDRAWAL OF INVESTMENT FROM AND DISAPPROVAL OF FUTURE INVESTMENT IN CORPORATIONS AND BANKS DOING BUSINESS IN OR WITH SOUTH AFRICA\n\nWHEREAS, In many countries in South Africa, the racist apartheid government of four million whites totally dominates the lives of fifteen million Blacks and three million \"Coloreds\" (those of mixed blood and Asians); and\n\nWHEREAS, Apartheid, the complete subjugation of Blacks and \"Coloreds\" to white supremacist rule, is the law of the land, denying the most elemental civil liberties\u2014the right to move about freely, the right to a job with fair wages and working conditions, the right to live where one wants to live, and more\u2014are officially denied to Black people; and\n\nWHEREAS, The anti-apartheid freedom movement has been ruthlessly outlawed and subjected to fascist terror, its leaders have been imprisoned with maximum sentences, brutalized and slain, driven into exile; and\n\nWHEREAS, United States corporations and banks which invest in and do business in these countries in South Africa perpetuate these undemocratic, political and economic practices against the majority of its citizens; and\n\nWHEREAS, The City and County of San Francisco has substantial investments in corporations and banks which do business in countries like South Africa practicing apartheid; and WHEREAS, The City and Country of San Francisco, on behalf of all its citizens, could make an impact on corporations and banks involved in such South African countries by withdrawing its investments in such corporations and banks; be it\n\nRESOLVED, That the Board of Supervisors of the City and County of San Francisco urges the immediate withdrawal of all City funds invested in corporations and banks which do business in South African countries practicing apartheid; and be it\n\nFURTHER RESOLVED, That the Board of Supervisors communicates directly to corporations and banks informing them of its action; and be it\n\nFURTHER RESOLVED, That copies of this resolution be forwarded to the Mayor, the Retirement System Board and the City Treasurer.\n32\n\n\"Letter to President Jimmy Carter\"\n\nPrivate letter, April 12, 1978\n\nAs 1978 moved ahead, Milk's leadership efforts garnered intensively more visibility and authority on local, state and national political scenes. He was interested in the establishment of party politics and the importance of organizing GLBTQ individuals within those political circles. One of the projects that Milk completed was successfully organizing the California Gay Caucus, a gathering across party, ideological, and social divides to create a politically united front that political candidates would (hopefully) have to address in both official rhetoric and in person at public events. This would be so if those mainstream politicians hoped to receive increasingly vocal and consequential GLBTQ votes. The caucus enacted Milk's political vision long sought in his voter registration efforts and calls for GLBTQ economic and political power and GLBTQ-centered leadership, embodying his belief that \"Gay political clout must move forward in the face of the recent defeats in St. Paul and Wichita\"\u2014what he presciently called \"the rise of the Right.\"\n\nOn April 12, 1978, Milk invited President Jimmy Carter to deliver the keynote address at the annual dinner of the San Francisco Gay Democratic Club. Though Carter declined the invitation, Milk nonetheless took the opportunity in his invitation to exhort the President about the importance of GLBTQ citizens and, of course, GLBTQ voters. In his letter, Milk wrote of a distant future in the Democratic Party where not only traditional minorities and labor unionists would be a party majority, but also GLBTQ groups. His immediate point seemed clear. That was, dominant politicians ought to consider expediency in listening to, and supporting, GLBTQ communities. As the minority caucus would grow, so went the argument, so too would its influences. Perhaps not rendered as a political threat, Milk's letter to Carter nevertheless resounded with the oncoming inevitability of GLBTQ power and the potential mistakes of ignoring its breadth on the local, state, and national landscapes.\n\nInterestingly, Milk's letters to Carter did not stop with the rejected invitation to the San Francisco Gay Democratic Club. Rather, Milk pushed the President throughout the Briggs Initiative battle. In one June 1978 letter, Milk wrote with the niceties and pleasantries befitting a presidential appeal: \"I called upon you to take a leadership role in defending the rights of gay people. As the President of a nation which includes 15\u20132.0 million lesbians and gay men, your leadership is vital and necessary.\" In a Desert Sun article titled \"Gays Hit Carter on Human Rights\" that same month, though, Milk issued a bit more vehemence in his approach: \"If Briggs wins he will not stop. They never do. There will be no safe closet for any gay person!\" Whether he worked through normative tactics or firmer exhortations, Milk was unrelenting in getting Carter involved in the gay rights fight.\n\nAgain, Milk wanted Carter to understand the impact of gay voters on the Democratic Party's success and on the President's re-election bid down the road. And over time, Milk intended to \"make these gay people aware of their responsibility to vote as a major block in all elections, especially in those that can affect them greatly.\" The message was unequivocal in this letter to Carter.\n\n. . .\n\nDear President Carter:\n\nLike most people in this country, I am very concerned about human rights abroad and supportive of your efforts. I have worked in San Francisco towards affecting change in the South African government's racial policies and on other human rights concerns.\n\nBut I am also deeply concerned about the millions of fellow gay women and men in this nation who have been under attack from those who believe only in myths and fears about gay people and who lack an understanding of just who we are and why we are.\n\nWe are doing a strong educational campaign to dispel those myths and fears. We hope that soon the people of this nation and the world will judge gay people by our leaders and our elected officials rather than by our stereotypes, just as they do with Blacks, Asians, Italians, and other groups.\n\nIn San Francisco, we have a relatively strong political involvement. We\u2014and particularly, myself\u2014are putting together a strong political base within our own community and state and are forming alliances with the traditional minorities, feminists and union members. It is the goal of Lt. Governor Dymally that by 1990, the Democratic Minority Coalition, with the active support of gay people, will be the backbone of the Democratic Party in this state.\n\nMore to the point, the most active and politically aware group in San Francisco's large gay community is the San Francisco Gay Democratic Club. We will be holding our annual dinner this year on June 23 rd. We have the long range goal to make that the most important political gathering in the gay community in the nation. Inviting guest speakers from all over to make their views known, we intend to let the millions of gay people who are looking for national leadership know where to look. We intend to make these gay people aware of their responsibility to vote as a major block in all elections, especially in those that can affect them greatly.\n\nWith this in mind, we would like to have you be the honored guest at this year's event. We are fully aware of your certainly crowded schedule and the political risks you might be taking by making such an appearance. But the other side of the coin is the role of leadership that you would be playing. Sooner or later, the massive gay population will indeed win their rights as other groups have already done. Sooner or later, the strife and anger and hatred and violence against gay people will be put aside. What we seek now is to leap over the many years and great turmoil that will take place by having the person who represents these many people speak out now. We seek a strong leadership role from someone and no one is better suited for that than a president who has taken a strong position on human rights across the world.\n\nNaturally, we would appreciate a reply as early as possible. Or, if you see fit to discuss this with Vice President Mondale and decide that he might be the one to reach out to these millions of people, we would also be honored.\n\nThank you in advance for your consideration.\n\nWarmly,\n\nHarvey Milk\n33\n\n\"Untitled (on Gay Caucus and Gay Power)\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter,\" April 27, 1978\n\nPart of Milk's successful City Supervisor campaign involved a robust call for a statewide gay caucus that would mobilize and gather community across political, social, and coalition-building lines. The goal in this effort was to establish a united front and to foster an influential voting block rendered to put political and electoral pressure on mainstream politicians to keep GLBTQ reform issues on their radar (see Document 32 and Document 34). And of course, politicians were invited to come; it's not that they were required, but Milk put some pressure on them. In a press release, for instance, he noted, \"The caucus will . . . publicize who does and doesn't attend and the remarks of those who do attend.\" The threat to those wishing to skip the caucus meeting was clear enough\u2014the GLBTQ community and larger public would be able to monitor which candidates thought little or nothing of gay rights.\n\nIn an April 25, 1978, public memorandum, Milk celebrated the promise of what a gay caucus could do. He wrote, \"In no other state, and certainly not in California, has such an undertaking taken place. It marks another forward step for the gay movement. Maybe all the candidates will show up. Maybe none will. But now, for the first time, those who want the gay vote are being given the chance to seek it openly.\" Of course, there was a clear, utile motivation behind establishing the gay caucus\u2014political power and a check and balance of mainstream politicians. However, Milk's insistence on a united front also emboldened the constitutive efforts of the GLBTQ community to gather strength from the caucus internally. The caucus, that is, could be a rallying point and a node of pride\u2014pride that voice could be enacted and that a \"good life\" together was possible. As Milk reminded his readers in the editorial that follows, \"We will see gay women and men from all over the state do what must be done and set the groundwork for the next four years and beyond. It is exciting.\" Milk's excitement punctuated this text; moreover, it translated into the eventual success of the California Gay Caucus. The caucus's success helped enact his political vision long sought in his voter registration efforts and calls for GLBTQ economic and political power. Moreover, the caucus would ultimately help the GLBTQ community challenge what Milk called \"the rise of the Right.\" Part of this \"Right\" would eventually help launch the Briggs Initiative.\n\n. . .\n\nThe Mayor tossed out the opening pitch for the beginning of the Community Softball League Season this weekend. The D.A. was there. The Fire Chief was there. To many of us in San Francisco, there is little new in that scene. Gay power, including power at the ballot box, has been growing to a point where no one running for a city office can ignore it. Even those who run by district, be they Supervisors or Assembly people, pay more and more attention to the gay vote.\n\nThe same thing is happening in Los Angeles, and Long Beach and San Diego are moving in that direction. And, now the full state? Why not?\n\nThe next logical extension of gay political power is to influence statewide elections. As soon as more gay people all over California come to the realization that voting for their pocketbook is not as important as voting for our rights, then the gay vote will become solid and powerful. It could certainly become as important as any other minority vote bloc in the state. If Jerry Brown faces Ken Maddy in the general election this year, the gay vote might make the difference as to which becomes Governor. If not this year, most certainly in four years, the gay vote will be powerful enough to tip the primary race or even the general election.\n\nThe task for the gay community, statewide, is to start the organizing of a true non-partisan California Gay Caucus which will put all candidates for statewide office in the same position as those who run for office in San Francisco. Votes, money, workers\u2014they are available. The candidates must seek them and earn them.\n\nThis year will be the start of the state Gay Caucus. The first attempt to bring the candidates and the gay community together is being tried in Los Angeles on Saturday, May 6th. Some have questioned the wisdom of doing it this year when there is no race within the Democratic Party for Governor or Lt. Governor to provide interest. But I look at it as a training ground for putting together such a state caucus. The very fact that it is taking place makes it a success.\n\nIn no other state, and certainly not in California, has such an undertaking taken place. It marks another forward step for the gay movement. We will see gay women and men from all over the state do what must be done and set the groundwork for the next four years and beyond. It is exciting.\n\nEvery candidate for every statewide office was invited. Democrats and Republicans. It will be interesting to see who attends and what is said by those who do. The Gay Caucus will publish the results throughout the state. We will not endorse, but we will say who felt it was important enough to attend and what they said.\n\nMaybe they will all show up. Maybe none will. But now, for the first time, those who want the gay vote are being given the chance to seek the gay vote. Up front. Not private meetings with a handful of gay people.\n\nMay 6th at the Bonaventure Hotel in Los Angeles. It will tell us a lot. Lt. Governor Dymally, Senator Cranston, Mayor Moscone and Los Angeles Mayor Bradley have all joined our side. Senator Briggs and Ex-Police Chief Davis are on the other side. On May 6th, we may see some more move to one side or the other. It must happen sometime.\n\nFor those who can make it, please join us in LA on May 6th.\n34\n\n\"California Gay Caucus\"\n\nArticle draft, Alternate, May 12, 1978\n\nMilk's desire to establish a California Gay Caucus came to fruition as the first statewide convention took place in Los Angeles in mid-May of 1978. As noted previously (see Document 32 and Document 33), Milk had both promised to support such a caucus in his City Supervisor campaign and to take a firm leadership role in its efforts for social change related to GLBTQ communities. His excitement and pride came across clearly in an editorial published in The Alternative newspaper in San Francisco. Therein, he informed readers, \"The first statewide political caucus of this type happened and another step towards full gay power and gay rights was taken. It was a small bit of history and a training ground for all other states and for California to improve on. That it took place as a success in itself. That 'they' came was interesting. That 'they' spoke out and joined our fight was exciting.\" By \"they\" Milk referred to mainstream political leaders like Lieutenant Governor Mervyn Dymally, who was a speaker at the caucus's meeting. Dymally's presence was an outward sign that the \"checks and balances\" inherent in the motivation to organize a gay caucus were working.\n\nThe California Gay Caucus meeting in Los Angeles came in the midst of two noteworthy strands of political and social context. First, several U.S. cities had suffered anti-GLBTQ legislation limiting where GLBTQ individuals could work and live\u2014cities like Miami, Florida, where Anita Bryant's campaign was successful. Milk used these examples of homophobic policy making as flag events to push his community forward. Second and related, California State Senator John Briggs was in the process of stumping across the state for Proposition 6, his referendum project for putting similar blockades in front of gay rights efforts. The bottom line for Milk was that what happened in places like St. Paul and Wichita could potentially happen in California. In fact, as Briggs gained popularity, the so-called possibility was quickly becoming a legitimate reality. And at one point midway through Briggs' campaign, the possibility turned into a palpable reality for a great many Californians. This difficulty forced Milk to work even harder to organize a caucus and to use it as a launching point for his anti-Proposition 6 campaign during his first and only year in office.\n\nThe California Gay Caucus meeting could not have come at a better time. For one, the GLBTQ community needed to refocus its political efforts and concretize its commitment to each other. Also, though, Dymally's presence in particular spoke volumes to the general California public. When Milk mentioned that \"they\" came out to listen to GLBTQ leaders, he also meant that Dymally railed\u2014of his own accord\u2014against Briggs. Or as Milk put it, \"Dymally shifted to a bitter, blistering attack on Senator Briggs and his anti-gay initiative. His emotion and anger against what Briggs is trying to do came out in statement after statement.\" Milk now had mainstream political support and the internal caucus that he needed to move forward against the eventual Briggs Initiative and for increased gay rights. As he had written in an earlier Bay Area Reporter reporter issue, \"The battle against Briggs will be hard and dirty on his part. We must reach out to every possible group of people everywhere in the state. I urge every Gay person to get involved in their local races . . . we need as much help as we can get, and there is no better way of getting help than to start to help others now.\" In the end, the caucus would serve as a catalyst for \"help\" both with Milk's in-groups and his external political audiences.\n\n. . .\n\nIt was another milestone in gay political history on Saturday, May 6th in Los Angeles. The first statewide gay political caucus took place at the new Bonaventure Hotel.\n\nGay people from all over the state and all political parties were invited. They came. Candidates from all parties running for state offices were invited. They came. The potentially powerful statewide gay vote finally emerged. No longer will candidates running for state office be able to avoid facing gay people. If they want our votes, they will have to seek them, out front and out of the closet.\n\nThe highlight of the day-long caucus was the remarks by Lt. Governor Merv Dymally. I use the word \"remarks\" because the Lt. Governor started his comments with a low-key statement, \"I'm not going to give a speech, but I would like to talk about myself.\" He gave a little of his experience as a black person and talked about the oppression that he has faced and the attempts by the ultra-right wing to seek a candidate to run against him. Then Dymally shifted to a bitter, blistering attack on Senator Briggs and his anti-gay initiative. His emotion and anger against what Briggs is trying to do came out in statement after statement: \"Briggs is trying to constitutionalize bigotry,\" \"every ounce of tolerance is going to be attacked; every bit of bigotry will surface,\" \"Incompetent teachers threaten the lives of our children more than any gay teacher could,\" \"American politics survives on scapegoats,\" \"If blacks want their equality, if women want their equality, then they must fight for the equality of gay people.\" Finally, the Lt. Governor made the pledge to make the anti-Briggs campaign part of his campaign and to take that message into the minority communities and throughout the state.\n\nIt was a powerful speech. Every gay person in the state would have joined those many gays in attendance with the rousing standing ovation that was given the Lt. Governor. He set the standards against which all other candidates seeking the gay vote should judged. It will be impossible to surpass that standard.\n\nThe first statewide political caucus of this type happened and another step towards full gay power and gay rights was taken. It was a small bit of history and a training ground for all other states and for California to improve on. That it took place is a success in itself. That \"they\" came was interesting. That \"they\" spoke out and joined our fight was exciting.\n\nGay political clout must move forward especially in the face of the recent defeats in St. Paul and Wichita. The counter balance must be the grassroots organization of the gay community. No longer can we vote one way for economic reasons or any other reasons. We must reach out to support only those who reach out and ask for our support . . . in public.\n\nThis was an experiment and it worked. Hats off to those in Los Angeles for putting it together, especially Don Amador, the gay liaison for LA Mayor Tom Bradley. . . And my thanks to all of \"them\" and \"us\" who came.\nPART FOUR\n\nMilk and the Politics of Gay Rights\n35\n\n\"Keynote Speech at Gay Conference 5\"\n\nTape cassette transcription of speech, June 10, 1978\n\nMoving beyond San Francisco and California politics, Milk gained more and more popularity on the national scene during his year in office as the District 5 City Supervisor. By the summer of 1978, he was entrenched in his epic battle with California State Senator John Briggs over Proposition 6. And this campaign had the national \"eye\" focused on the state and \"ear\" tuned into its larger implications for GLBTQ communities across the United States. But Milk's story\u2014in and of itself\u2014also became fodder for political pundits and extra motivation for GLBTQ communities facing similar oppressions and concomitantly celebrating small in-roads.\n\nMilk was invited to Dallas, Texas, on June 10, 1978, to address a regional meeting, called the Gay Conference 5, which included GLBTQ leaders and caucuses from states in the western area of the United States. Undoubtedly, Milk entertained the same themes he had attended to in his 1977 campaign addresses and his 1978 stump speeches in favor of anti-Proposition 6 efforts. Overall, the summer of 1978 was a busy time for Milk, especially as he and his political ally and anti-Briggs debate partner, Sally Gearhart, inaugurated their Fund to Defeat the Briggs Initiative on June 6. Their press release from that day notes, \"To defeat Briggs, campaigns have to be waged on many levels. Because different voters are motivated by different things and different people have misconceptions about gays, many approaches will be needed.\" Certainly, the fund was one way of defeating Briggs. So, too, though, was bringing the anti-Briggs message to the Gay Conference 5. Much of what follows involves Milk's larger, nationwide appeals to support Californians in their fight against Proposition 6.\n\nHowever, another spotlight of what has been deemed the \"Dallas Speech\" was Milk's insistence that regardless of the gay communities' coalition-building goals and his own populism, his sexuality was still core to his identity and public life. He told the Dallas audience, \"I was always gay, and then something happened\u2014I got elected and I was still gay.\" This self-identification was important because it exhibited a balance between Milk's mainstream political life and his sexuality\u2014not to mention his sexual politics. At the same time, however, his sentiments below solidified that Milk centered his overall identity on being gay, an interesting move for a leader who had billed himself as a populist. Such a move, though perhaps unexpected (certainly during his walk to the inauguration wherein he held hands with Jack Lira, his boyfriend at the time), communicated both a pride and fearlessness. And if Milk was all about inspiring \"hope,\" what better way then by showing how one could traipse the line between private and public, while ensuring that the private remained the focal point of one's subject position?\n\n. . .\n\nThank you for being here. The you-s, wherever you are, make it possible for the us-es, in this case, to do our trip. Without you, without your support, the gay sisters and brothers all over the country some of us would never be able to do it. So, thank you for being here today.\n\nIn the six or seven years that I've been quite active, I've only given two written speeches\u2014you know, wrote it out. I usually kind of like put some notes down and then don't even follow them. I gave one speech that night when the Lieutenant Governor was the guest, and I was told it was a very excellent speech, so I have one copy in case anyone wants to read it. [Laughter]\n\nI was expecting the traditional Texas welcome when I got off the plane last night. I'd never been to that airport. And there was nobody there. [Laughter] And I said, Texas? And then it dawned on me. Very clever, you know, very smart. There's always that threat or fear that something's going to happen, that the extreme right wing, the paranoid people are going to get afraid and try to disrupt and maybe wait for me to come in and, you know, take me away someplace. And I figured if they didn't know what I looked like but they knew what Steve did, so they were watching him and waiting for him to go to the airport to get me. But he was smart. He stayed here, and figured I'd have to take the bus and nobody would interfere. So I got on a bus and it made about ten stops before it got out of the airport and thought I was in Disneyland. [Laughter] And had this magnificent ride from the airport to here, and I cruised the bus driver. [Laughter] And somebody with an aloha shirt kept saying, \"My, it's cold tonight.\" You know, cause I'm dressed like this from San Francisco. And it was very clever. And I got here and there was no incident and I was safe and everything else. But very cheap. I had to pay the 4 dollars. [Laughter] Very tacky! [Laughter, applause] You know a New York Jew when you see one. [Laughter, applause]\n\nBefore I forget this, I was given one note by my administrative aide before I left. A gay woman by the name of Anne. And she wanted me to remind everybody that when you see the movie tonight, Gay USA, there's gonna be one scene where there's this lesbian in leather. And usually the audience responds pretty good, that's her lover Joyce. [Laughter] And you should see what City Hall is like . . . you know, Anne is probably one of the most together people I know, but when Joyce comes down to City Hall in leather. Picture that one. [Laughter]\n\nAnyhow, I'm Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you. [Laughter, applause] I was reading the Playboy interview of that person from Florida [laughter], who wants to put all gay people in jail, and just stop and think about it, 20 million gay people in jail. [Laughter] We would have our own community center . . . hahaha, and instead of running for Supervisor, I'm going to run for Sheriff . . . haha. [Laughter]\n\nAnita Bryant, last year, blamed the drought we had in San Francisco on the gay people in California. And, honest to God\u2014this is true\u2014honest to God, the day I got elected it started to rain. [Laughter, applause] And we had\u2014we had a series of rainy days on and off. The day we were sworn in, some of us walked to City Hall from the Castro and\u2014maybe I'll talk about that later\u2014but we walked to City Hall, it was kind of clear, it was getting cloudy and\u2014it's recorded, but I had my hand up and as I was getting [laughter] the\u2014we do everything backwards. [Laughter] As I was getting ready to say \"I do,\" it started to rain again! And then subsequent to that it started to rain and rain and rain! They want to recall me [Harvey laughing], to stop the rain! But it stopped and things are going pretty well.\n\nI can't resist because you people are very political, I have one political joke. A real story joke. I only [get] to tell this about every six months or so and I told this in Chicago and they never heard it, but I couldn't believe that. So I'm going to tell it here and I don't know how many people know about Chicago politics. So this is an \"in\" joke if you don't know about it. It seems there was an ocean liner going across and it sank, and there was only one little, tiny piece of wood floating and 3 people were swimming towards it, but it could only hold 1. And the 3 people were the Pope, the President of the United States, and Mayor Daley. [Laughter] So, they had a discussion while treading water to see who should hold on to it and be saved. The Pope pontificated about being the spiritual leader of the world, and it was a good argument. The President, who was able to chew gum and swim [laughter, applause], said that he was the leader of the most powerful nation in the world, and he went on in his brilliant way, and there was a good argument. And Mayor Daley said that he recognized both positions but that Chicago was the hub of America, what took place in Chicago affected America. And the archdiocese of Chicago was the largest in the world, and you know it was a good argument. They all realized they all had real good arguments, so they did it the democratic way and voted . . . and Daley won 7-2. [Laughter, applause]\n\nI've attended some of the workshops and\u2014I look here, you know\u2014I say that, you know, three, four, five years ago to think that this number of people would be gathered on a Saturday night in a major hotel that's used to conventions, and if anybody at that time would have said it was gay people, I would have said no. And it's so exciting to see it breaking out all over the country. That, the movement, the gay liberation movement is ready to explode. And you are part of it and you are helping it. And it's very exciting, and I watched the reactions in those seminars, workshops, and it was exciting to see the intensity. Ah, it's happening all over the country, and you realize where we've come and where we've got to go.\n\nAnd my last whimsical part would be to remind you of Winston Churchill's famous statement, where he went to give a speech and the reception was the head of the temperance movement, and she said, \"Sir Churchill, we've measured how much scotch you have drank in your life and in a room this size it would fill up this high.\" And he looked around, looked at her hand, looked at the ceiling, \"So much to do, so little time left.\" [Laughter, applause]\n\nAnd so much to do, and your being here is making that commitment. I jokingly said I'm here to recruit you, I don't have to because your being here is that commitment. And the message that anybody has to say is that without a commitment, you're just occupying space. We had better make that commitment, because we cannot afford not to. That the movement that we hear about, the Anita Bryants and the John Briggs in California and their counterparts throughout the country are trying to legalize bigotry. And we better be prepared for it, and we better make that commitment. And for those who don't understand, you better read the gay history, and I think Don Amador will let you know about that tomorrow. For those of you who have forgotten, read those history books because you've got to make that commitment, it is very dangerous. Based on what we've seen so far every ounce of tolerance is going to be attacked and every bit of bigotry will surface.\n\nWe just had a primary in California, and think about this, in San Francisco, we very seldom have races for judgeships\u2014they usually are kind of fait accomplis. And when we do have a race it is probably the most dull race you can imagine, each telling which law school they went to. And this year we had a race, there were three people, and so in order to avoid a run-off you must get 50% of the vote. It just so happened that one of the people was a woman in which the gay community banded behind. She also was supported by other financial interests downtown, and it was probably the first time we've ever agreed on a candidate. And every wealthy name in the city was supporting her and so were every single gay person I knew, there were exceptions. And the weekend before, in liberal San Francisco, in a dull judge's race, a piece of literature went out\u201445,000 pieces went to homes in the most conservative area of San Francisco. And on the back it said who was supporting whom. And to this other judge, it mentioned the police officers group, this distinguished conservative, that distinguished conservative. And it said who was supporting [inaudible]. And it said \"as she quoted herself in one of the gay publications she regards herself as an honorary homosexual and is supported by Harvey Milk and Carol Silver.\" And there was the fag hag smear. In liberal San Francisco, in a judge race. And I found out the names of the people who put that out and they were part of the progressive wing of the Democratic party. And you can be sure the bigots are smiling.\n\nAnd so we better, better be prepared 'cause it's not going to be easy. 'Cause we've heard quite often today and yesterday and in the papers about this movement from the Right. I use a bad pun, I refer to it as the \"third Right.\" And we know what they are doing, but what we don't there are two other aspects. And one is who is talking about it the most and you will find out it is the media that is controlled by the Right. Telling us about it over and again so that we are starting to believe that it is the package on the shelf that everybody's buying. And so that the legislators believe that indeed there's a movement to the Right and so the legislators are moving to the Right, and the media from the Right are saying the nation is moving to the Right to convince us it is happening, and we are buying it. We ourselves are buying it. We look at the defeats, but stop and think of what's really happening in the nation . . . in 1977, in Dade county, was an election that took away the rights of gay people, which in 1975 did not exist. And in the two weeks before and after Dade County, more was written about homosexuality than in the entire history of mankind. But in every household they talked about it; they may have said \"you fucking queens,\" but they talked about it. And that was the opening of dialogue. And in every city of this country and in every town, the issue, the love that dare not speak its name, spoke its name. And dialogue is the beginning of understanding.\n\nIn 1977 a gay person was elected to public office in California. In 1977 the state of Mississippi lowered the penalties on marijuana. Mississippi! And in 1977 was the convention of conventions in Houston. And I say, yes, there's a movement to the Right, but there's a goddamn good movement to the Left too. [Applause]\n\nAnd I'm not, and I'm not gonna buy, I'm not gonna buy their package here today. I'm concerned, I'm aware, I know what they are doing. I know the money they are putting together, I know the way they are chipping us away one by one. I know the way\u2014their tactics. But I know ours. And I'll be on my defense but I'm gonna be on my offense too. I'm gonna put them on the defense, I'm gonna put then on real soon, real fast. And it is up to you to do the same thing. Let us fight, put them where they belong and let's turn the tide around. I think it's like 5 steps forward and a half a step back. And so they may win some victories, but it's easy to win victories. I told the editor of the San Francisco Examiner, the publisher, that if I were to put on the ballot in Atlanta, Georgia, should whites be allowed to teach, what would be the result. He said it would go down in defeat. It's easy! Those are easy victories, and based on those we think the world is caving in. Sure, ERA is getting beaten back, but 10 years ago it didn't exist.\n\nAnd they are telling us the movement to the Right, it's their last ditch effort, and I think we are going to prevail based on history. And it's up to you to make sure.\n\nSo let me tell you a little of what's taking place in California, so you can relay it to Texas and maybe take the best of what we have learned from that. And take our mistakes and failures and learn from that so you can put together something that is even greater. So I would like to take a few moments to tell you about a few things that's taking place in California, to let you know that the Left is not remaining silent. You heard earlier about Lt. Governor Dymally who made some statements. You must understand that Lt. Governor Dymally is black, and as leader of the black community is speaking out for gay rights. And Lt. Governor Dymally is putting together the Democratic Minority Coalition. Forget for a moment whether you're Democrats or Republicans, just forget for a moment . . . if that's possible [Harvey laughs], but he's putting together the Democratic Minority Coalition, which is the traditional minorities, the feminist movement and the gay movement. And by 1990, by 1990 if we register the movement we will have control of the state. And so our goal is to register, not just our gay sisters and brothers, but the entire minority community in the state of California. And in the city of San Francisco we'll have a race for mayor next year, now I don't know who it's gonna be and I'm not that concerned at this moment. But I am concerned that in five years it is a member of a minority and that includes the gay and feminist movement as well. And that's our goal in California\u2014to take over so that the Right is buried once and for all. [Applause]\n\nAnd we are learning how to do it, because we are learning, and we're gonna make a lot of mistakes before it's over. But you can only make mistakes if you try. If you go back into the closet and hide you can't make any mistakes\u2014you suffocate. And so we are gonna make mistakes.\n\nBut let me tell you what we've done as examples of where we're coming from. Governor Brown was up for re-election, Governor Brown was unchallenged in the primary, oh there were some minor characters running, people like Harvey Milk. But there was no competition. And the big, liberal meeting was the CDC convention\u2014the California Democratic Club convention in San Diego, where the progressive wing of the Democratic party meets. And the gay caucus represented almost 15% of that membership. And we submitted to the Governor some questions, quite a few questions. And he didn't quite answer them and we didn't endorse him. And my statement was \"the Governor almost answered our questions and we almost endorsed him.\" Subsequent to that, all of the sudden now he's meeting with the gay community. We tried to arrange meetings prior to that; we couldn't. But now he does because he's in a tough race for governor in the run-off and he needs us, and many of us will not go easy or cheap. We have questions and we want answers. Both candidates in the Democratic party for attorney general fought bitterly for the gay vote\u2014bitterly and openly for it. And the mayor of San Francisco would not be mayor if it were not for the gay vote.\n\nWe've made the vote the end result. The ballot box, because that's where their answer is. You can have all the demonstrations you want, you can have all the rallies you want and all the meetings you want. But unless you go out there and push that button or punch the peg hole or whatever it may be, unless you cast a vote, it's meaningless. And the right understands that. And that's where their strength comes from.\n\nAnd it's up to us to form our natural allies, whether we like them or not, whether they like us or not. But to form those allies, to once and for all, to get our way, to get our share\u2014no more, no less.\n\nAnd so we are using the vote as a way to get the rights. We are not ignoring the other tactics, everything's needed. But the end result is in that box. And if you can't get your gay sisters and brothers to understand that, then read them the pages of history. And those who say what difference does my one vote make? Let me give you an example, one district in our city, a candidate won, forgetting whether that candidate is good or bad, he won by twenty-one votes. Which meant that if one more person in every fourth precinct went out and voted against that person, he would have lost. One more vote in every fourth precinct. And so those people who say my vote doesn't count\u2014you're crazy. It's vital, 'cause it's those one votes that make the difference.\n\nAnd so we are learning, because of that we have many things happening. In Los Angeles the mayor appointed a gay as his advisor. In San Francisco, I don't think I could sit down and figure out how many gays are on important commissions. And because of my position I was able to appoint somebody to a state commission, the coastal commission. And we are putting gays in every spot we can. But not just gays, 'cause we are fighting with our natural allies.\n\nEarlier this morning you heard a great speech that talked about the problems of the east. Where women were not being put in the right positions, they were being put into the traditional, stereotypical positions of health and so forth. San Francisco's a little different, we have five fire commissioners, three are women. We have five police commissioners, two are women. They are on the Board of Permit Appeals, the planning commission. And that goes for the Blacks, and the Asians, and the Latinos. We are making sure that we support each other, because that's the only way. We needed each other and we must stick together\u2014whether we like each other or not or they hate us or not. The point is we have a common enemy. And so we are joining together our votes and I urge you people to do the same thing in Texas, and every other state.\n\nYou see, to me, I call us the us-es. If you look who's fighting against gays, if you look who's fighting against ERA, if you look who's for the Bakke decision, if you look who's holding back the Hispanic community, if you look who's trying to cut off funds for abortion, if you look who doesn't want childcare centers, if you look who doesn't want to put money into senior citizens\u2014you come to the same person\u2014the people who have control now.\n\nAnd for us to vote our pocket book on an issue and not realize you are giving support to the same people who want to put us in jail\u2014maybe not today\u2014but tomorrow, you're crazy.\n\nAnd all these groups are the us-es. Of course the thems say they have the right to control the destiny because it is their money. They have the big corporations and pay the huge taxes. But how do they get the money for the taxes? It's the bars of soap that you buy, it's the records you buy, it's the hamburgers you buy, it's the TV sets you buy, it's the automobiles you buy. The thems wouldn't have the money if it wasn't for the us-es. It's our money but they won't return it . . . while they throw a crumb and let us fight among it. And so that has to end. We must realize that there is a battle between the us-es and the thems. And when you forget that you're just giving more strength to the thems.\n\nOf course right now there's someone in the audience who's one of them who's whispering into his lapel\u2014did you ever see the secret service. I wonder what they talk about? [Laughter]. But they might as well know that some of us, and I'm sure there's somebody here, there always is, that if you're gonna take one of us, there will be ten more following up, because there are many of us. And we'll stick together.\n\nSo what is the advantage of getting involved? The advantage is many ways besides just getting your piece of the pie.\n\nIt seems very interesting, as an elected official, I'm an insider now. For those who don't know San Francisco is unique in many ways, it's both a city and a county\u2014the only one in California. So the Board of Supervisors is both a city council and a county board of supervisors. And there are eleven of us, the city has a population of 675,000. During the day there's about a million people there with the commuters. And in the Bay Area there are some three million people that watch that city. [Question from someone]. I had to explain this 'cause a lot of people don't know. There are about a million people there whose lives are governed, and the budget is spent by 11 people. And one of them happens to be gay. And like it or not, the Chamber of Commerce, the Downtown Association, the unions, the environmentalists, the neighborhood people, the poor people\u2014everybody has to deal with the Board of Supervisors. And in San Francisco, we are a very, very strong Board. We delineate the executive and the legislative [inaudible]. And so they must deal with me like it or not. And it's very interesting in how they do that.\n\nThe Chamber of Commerce assigns two members to each Board of Supervisors as their lobbyists, to have lunch with you. And guess who they picked to have lunch with me? Their president. Because I have been probably their greatest foe on the issues of San Francisco, forget about whether they're right or wrong because that's our little problem. But the chamber in trying to influence me, has picked their top person. Think of the education, when in the middle of lunch I talk about my lover. [Laughter, applause] Think of the education when I . . . we get, you know, tons of invitations to this dinner or that dinner, this opening, this council . . . well one came addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Milk. [Laughter]. And I call up and say \"in case you didn't know . . . A., I'm gay and B., I don't think my lover would like to attend.\" And they get an education. And we send them a letter to follow up to explain that there are a lot of single people in the city who are not married, who are not gay, and their letters are an insult not just to gay people, but to single people. And think of the education they're all getting. Including the unions and so forth.\n\nIt's very interesting being an insider, in helping to educate people on the one-on-one. But how does it help the whole city? We kind of have a theme song, I was expecting it to be played when we came in, but I failed. It's Doris Day singing \"what a difference a gay makes.\" [Laughter, applause]. You see I've been on the Board of Supervisors for all of five months, five months, it seems like an eternity, but five months. And a few things have happened, surprisingly, since my election, that for some reason or another would have happened eventually, but they have happened. I brought one along, it's a little document. And I say, \"amending part 2, chapter 8, San Francisco municipal code, police code, by adding article 33 there to prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation in employment, housing, public accommodations and providing remedies therefore.\" And that's it. [Applause]\n\nAnd they have to take me with them if they try to take this one away and I don't go easy. I go kicking and screaming and fighting. And I think San Francisco will back me up on that one.\n\nIt's gonna be a tough fight but this is it! [Applause]\n\nAnd little things have happened, since I've been elected. For example, every year our city funds all the major parades, the Chinese parade, the Saint Patrick's Day parade. For some reason they would never fund the Gay Day parade. And the budget for this year was already locked up and there was no way to reopen the budget. But somehow or another it got reopened and somehow or another we got the money for a Gay Day parade. And it wasn't the money I was after . . . as soon as they gave us the money, some of them realized it was official sanction of the major gay event of the year. [Applause] And somehow or another we have a lot of gay people being appointed to positions. And somehow or another we are getting money for CEDA [California Enterprise Development Authority] jobs. And somehow or another we are getting money for a community center. And somehow or another . . . the list goes on and on, gay mental health workers. And somehow or another all these things are happening. And somehow or another, the police . . . there's less harassment, there's still some, but less and less. Somehow or another it does make a difference just being there.\n\nAnd that's the nuts and bolts of the day to day problems that we can solve and help. So it does make a difference, and it's a very vital difference. But, it's very interesting, in the debate that went on in the gay rights, one of the more conservative supervisors, when the vote was obvious and she couldn't stop it, she got up and she said that, the gay people must set standards. And I arose, oh and then she talked about the S&M scene in the gay community. And I arose, and I said, \"Supervisor Feinstein, of course you know the Marquis de Sade was heterosexual. And that the standards you want us to set are the standards of Richard Nixon and the people who made the Atom bomb and dropped it. The standards you want us to set, are the people who 50% of husbands beat their wives? The standards you want us to set are they the standards of the parents who abuse their children? The standards that you want us to set are the people who bring heroin into this nation and put people on drugs? What standards do you want us to set? Or do you want to set the standards in today's paper?\" . . . 'cause I anticipated her question and I have written down, I've saved these, these were the headlines in one day's paper. \"Trade deficit rose 20th month in a row,\" \"U.S. rebukes Soviets,\" \"U.S. said to weigh move against Chile,\" \"capital punishment responds to crime,\" this is in New Jersey. \"Nine Pennsylvania legislators are being investigated.\" There's articles: Vietnam, Panama, South Africa, the middle east, Ireland. I said \"Those are the standards? Because I don't think you'll find any gay people involved in any of those issues. So tell me about the standards you want us to set.\" [Applause]\n\nAnd so, and so, it's vital that there's gay people down there to raise the dialogue that would go silent without it. And very interesting in San Francisco, it's a gay person who has done a few things on the Board that are non-gay. It was a gay person who introduced a resolution, that asked the State Department to close the South African embassy in San Francisco. The reason why, in case you don't know, South Africa has quite a nice policy to non-whites. It's the only nation I know, if you are born there and you are not white you are considered a foreigner and must have a passport. And I could go on and spell out the horrors. Well, half of San Francisco is non-white. And if half of San Francisco went to South Africa they would be treated as third class citizens, and that's an insult to me and to them.\n\nAnd it's very interesting I'm the one who's fighting for the drug rehabilitation centers for the Latino community in San Francisco. That I'm the one fighting for the Asian community, in fact I've tried to get an Asian elected president of the Board of Supervisors. And that it was a gay person who, when Jimmy Carter announced that he wanted to close down the Presidio, the army base there, which is a country club, I said I don't sleep better at night knowing the Presidio is there. Close it down. Turn it open to senior citizens, the handicapped, and to the childcare centers. Let's make it a place that once trained people to kill, to a place to train people to heal. And it was a gay person who introduced that and fought for that. And the list is very long of the dialogue that the sensitivities that gay people bring to issues that are non-gay, that surprises them, then they have to deal with it. And the whole city is listening and watching and that can happen wherever we go, and it's important that we do.\n\nThen there's another aspect, that's very important, because for years we were regarded as gay people but, see, Harvey Milk is known as a gay person from San Francisco, and I was supported by teamsters and firefighters, and construction trade workers and environmentalists and senior citizens and the Chicano community. But I was always gay, and then something happened\u2014I got elected and I was still gay. The day we got sworn in, I mentioned we walked, and there was a reason why we walked. And for those people who were in the media conference, think about this, the eleven supervisors were gonna be sworn in the same day. And I thought it was vital that we were on the front page\u2014so how do you pick one out of eleven? So we walked, everybody else rode. So naturally the media said \"hey that's interesting, we'll catch them walking.\" But what they didn't know until we got there was that I was walking arm and arm with my lover. And the front page of the Examiner was the photograph of Supervisor Milk walking to City Hall with his lover.\n\nAnd for the first time, sex entered into it. I was not just gay\u2014he's doing it to him! [Laughter, applause] Or maybe he's doing it to him! Well, they're both right. [Laughter] And when we were sworn in, we have a custom that each supervisor gets up and introduces their family [laughter] and so I said that\u2014you know the cameras are there\u2014and I said, \"Of course you know I'm gay, and in this state it's illegal for two gay people to be married. But there's no law on earth that says that two people cannot love each other and I'd like to introduce my lover.\"\n\nAnd I was amazed at the reaction of some of my progressive friends. Because sex had entered the picture. We were no longer just gay people, and they had to think about that humanistic part of us, for the first time. And an education was happening and it was great. And it's still going on and it's not gonna stop. And I get involved in these fights, everything from the budget on down. And sometimes we win the votes, and when I say win, I mean the progressive forces, and sometimes we lose. But the dialogue exists.\n\nAnd on a few occasions, on the one vote, on environmental issues sometimes, on fiscal issues where I think they're irresponsive or they're just doing because of the power of the downtown association. And I don't know for sure whether I'm wearing a wash basin or that famed helmet of [Don Quixote] and tilting windmills, I don't know, and fighting dragons. And I may be fighting windmills or so, but, I think I may catch a dragon or two in the works. And if the story of Don Quixote means anything at all to me, it means that the spirit of life is more important than the substance. That the quality of life is more important than the standard of living. And I think I've brought that to the Board. And so the others may think I'm wearing just that wash basin, but I know I'm wearing that famed helmet.\n\nAnd I bring another message, and that is about another gay movie that you're not going to see tonight, but that you might have seen or will see someday. It's called The Word is Out and I recommend it. 'Cause I think that we must put the word out. Let's put the word out\u2014to come out. We must destroy the myths, the stereotypes and no offense to the stereotypes, we must let them know who we are. In San Francisco on Gay Day, some of us are showing up with one sign only. And that is the sign of the town and state that you were born in, to let them know, we are your children. That we are not all products of Hollywood, and San Francisco and New York; that we come from all over. We must come out so that they know we are doctors, lawyers, ditch diggers, cashiers. In fact I'm working with a group of some 90 some odd doctors and psychiatrists in the Bay Area to come out as a group\u2014and if 90 psychiatrists and doctors come out as a group straight America would have a nervous breakdown. [Laughter, applause] We must let them know that we are not child molesters, that they are. [Applause] 95% of molesters are [heterosexuals; inaudible; lost in applause]. We must let them know if teachers affect the future of a child there would be a lot of nuns running around the streets. [Laughter, applause] We must dispel the myths of gay people who choose to be that . . . stop and think how ludicrous that is. And a child of heterosexual parents in the most fiercely heterosexual society, the child who wants to be equal with their peers, in which homosexuality is something to be sat on and spit on and killed, that child chooses homosexuality. Think how ludicrous that is. We must talk about that, we must talk about those issues on a one-on-one basis. And it's very important we do that. It's very important we come out. Not to stand on a street corner and say \"hey, I'm gay.\" But to tell our parents. And people say \"I can't tell my parents, it's going to hurt them.\" Think about what the hurt is gonna be when your parents go into a voting booth and vote against you without knowing. Who gets hurt? Not just you but that 13 year old who is coming out.\n\nAnd so it's important that you come out to everybody that you know\u2014to your relatives, to your friends, to your next door neighbor, to the person you work with, to the people in the restaurants you eat in, and to the people in the store where you shop. So that they know it's not the rights of some gay people, but it's your personal rights that they're discussing.\n\nAnd I was very pleased in the time that I've been here, to know that there are some gay people contemplating running for political office in this state. We heard of some people running in New York, we know of some other cases. And I think it's important that I address the need for some of you to do that. And not just Dallas and Houston. It serves two purposes, one\u2014it gives you a platform, so you don't win. It took me four times, you all thought that three strikes and you're out\u2014in gay softball it's four strikes. [Laughter, applause] I think there is a tremendous and vital difference between a friend of the gay community and an avowed gay in public office.\n36\n\n\"Gay Rights\"\n\nArticle draft, Coast to Coast, June 16, 1978\n\nMilk's editorial in the June 16, 1978, Coast to Coast newspaper was a strong statement about his position on the Briggs Initiative, also known as Proposition 6. With the November referendum looming, Milk was intent on stymieing the anti-GLBTQ measure.\n\nMilk's attention during the summer of 1978 (and leading into the fall, just prior to his assassination) was turned toward the fight with John Briggs. The debate over gay rights between Milk and Briggs catapulted Milk into the media spotlight. At the same time, it punctuated his ethos as a local activist with a burgeoning national reputation. In the process, Briggs was cast as a brashly opportunistic and adamantly homophobic demagogue. Briggs's effort to rid the California schools of GLBTQ teachers became certified as Proposition 6 in May. Given Briggs' disrepute, even within his own party, he undoubtedly surprised most by taking up the moral inheritance of Anita Bryant's \"Save the Children\" campaign, which had the previous year led to \"Orange Tuesday\"\u2014the day when Dade County, Florida residents voted to retract their gay rights ordnance.\n\nThough other places like St. Paul, Minnesota; Wichita, Kansas; and Eugene, Oregon, were facing similar measures, Briggs ensured that California would be the ultimate battleground for homophobia. That California was the focus helped draw Milk into the debate, thereby ensuring his participation and, in the end, his reputation. By the time November 1978 rolled around, the Proposition 6 battle would be Milk's crowning achievement. Ironically, even as Milk won the battle over Proposition 6, he would lose the war against homophobia\u2014as he predicted, by the bullet of an assassin.\n\nThe editorial below preceded Milk's debates with Briggs. In this document, Milk outlined the first step of battling Proposition 6: dispelling the myths of the GLBTQ community espoused by Briggs and other Proposition 6 supporters who pitched the senator's bigotry to the public. Milk argued, \"Thus, I feel that now\u2014before they start in\u2014we must talk about the false issues. They will be raised by Briggs, and if they wait to near the end, there will not be enough to time to speak out and explode the myths.\" Expediency was Milk's watchword. Always the strategist, he was looking ahead to what he assumed would be the core of Briggs' contentions. That is, Milk guessed correctly that Briggs, like Bryant before him, would angle toward so-called GLBTQ abuses of children and the deviancy of \"choosing\" to be salaciously GLBTQ. Here, Milk wrote about these myths, but he also established the baseline issue of \"choice\" in the context of sexuality.\n\nHe also challenged Briggs' reliance on the Bible as an argument from authority. In a Bay Area Reporter retrospective decades later, Milk is quoted as saying, \"I'm tired of listening to Anita Bryant and John Briggs twist the language and meaning of the Bible to fit their own distorted outlook. But I'm even more tired of [people] who know that they are playing fast and loose with the true meaning of the Bible. I'm tired of their silence more than their biblical gymnastics!\" In that same article, Milk took Briggs to task for looking past society's larger, starker problems and focusing instead on so-called homosexual \"ills\" as described through stereotypes. He wrote, \"What standards do you want us to clean up? Clean up your own act! Clean up your violence before you criticize Lesbians and Gay men because of their sexuality.\" In essence, Milk turned the mirror around on Briggs and his zealotry.\n\nPaired with the documents that follow, Milk's words below represent well his sentiments concerning the Briggs Initiative.\n\n. . .\n\nPeople are tired of talking about taxes and Jarvis-Gann. People will also get tired of talking about Briggs and gay rights. To these people, I say that the day we stop talking about gay rights is the day we no longer have them.\n\nBut the fact is that many people will get tired of the gay rights talks. Each day more and more people will make up their minds about the issue. WE and I stress the WE, must talk about some of the issues now while people are still listening and before they get fixed on a position that might be against us.\n\nMany campaigns have already started. We have no control over the campaign against us\u2014the Briggs side. Based on what took place from Dade County to Eugene, we know what to expect, especially at the end of the campaign. We must undermine their emotional campaign, geared to fears based on myths, now\u2014before they start them up. And, they will.\n\nThe bigots waged campaigns of lies and hysteria in every city and there is no reason to believe that they won't here in California. To hope for something else is to be like Jews in Nazi Germany as they were being loaded into the box cars and hoping that they will be treated nicely and not put into the ovens.\n\nI believe that we can win in November . . . but only if we mount a full-fledged campaign. One that covers all bases, both positive and defensive. Yes, defensive, too. For not to answer the false charges is, to some, an admission that the charges are not false. Otherwise, we would repudiate them.\n\nThere is no time like the present to start to repudiate them. For the sooner we start, the sooner we can lay them to rest. So, we need to have every gay person talk to as many non-gay people as possible about the issues\u2014both real and false. It will be a monumental effort and, because many gays will remain in their closet, it makes it that much more important for those of us who are out.\n\nThus, I feel that now\u2014before they start in\u2014we must talk about the false issues. They will be raised by Briggs and, if they wait to near the end, there will not be enough to time to speak out and explode the myths.\n\nWe must talk about child molestation.\n\nWe must talk about role models.\n\nWe must talk about the Bible.\n\nWe must talk about \"Chosen\" lifestyles.\n\nI would like to explode one of those myths right now. To me, the most pernicious is that gay people have deliberately \"chosen\" their homosexuality. I've known many more gay people than Anita Bryant and John Briggs have, and I have to tell you that they, and the churches that support them, deliberately lie.\n\nImagine a young girl or boy brought up by heterosexual parents in a fiercely heterosexual society, a society in which all \"the role models\" are strongly heterosexual, a society which considers a homosexual the lowest form of life, suitable fodder for queer-baiting, rape, murder. Now try to imagine this impressionable adolescent, who wants nothing more than to be a part of her or his own peer group, somehow deciding that homosexuality is the best of all possible worlds. As Anita Bryant would have us believe, on their 18th birthday, they suddenly say, \"Gee, ma! I wanna be gay!\" It's all a matter of \"choice.\"\n\nThere is a perversity in that accusation of \"choice\" that chills my blood. It reeks of madness.\n\nWhere choice does play a part, of course, is in coming out. The choice is whether you should lead a secret life, subject to great personal agony, the threat of blackmail and the corrosion of self-respect or whether you choose pride. Pride in what you are, in the life you lead, in the emotions you feel.\n\nA famous American coined the phrase that covers it all, \"Give me liberty or give me death.\" Patrick Henry was talking about political liberty. But there is a more personal type, a more important type. If you are not personally free to be yourself in that most important of all human activities\u2014the expression of love\u2014than life itself loses its meaning.\n\nTo come out for a gay person requires a degree of courage that is rarely asked of a straight person. It involves the possible loss of one's job, the possible breaking of ties to one's families, the possible loss of one's friends and the realization that in the minds of most people you meet, you will not be seen as a stereotype.\n\nAnd, once you've come out, there is no going back. Your gayness is now public, as much a part of you as the color of skin is to a black person. That's the only \"choice\" we have.\n\nOur non-gay neighbors must be told that and they must understand that. The myths must be exploded. You as an individual can do that. And you must start to do it now. The last week of October will be too late.\n37\n\n\"Gay Freedom Day Speech\"\n\nReprinted speech, Bay Area Reporter, June 25, 1978\n\nOne of the highlights of Castro life was the annual Gay Freedom Day celebration that included parades, performances, and community activities. Milk used the 1978 event as an opportunity to speak out on the Briggs Initiative.\n\nAs the summer of 1978 commenced, it was clear that the national wave of homophobia Briggs was both generating and floating atop was cresting. This was problematic as the November referendum deadline approached. As with Bryant's campaign, Proposition 6 inflamed the electorate because it concerned children, the specters of molestation and murder of the innocents, and the classroom as a recruitment space of so-called GLBTQ propaganda. These concerns seemed to resonate briefly with dominant California communities. In fact, the first poll in September 1978 indicated that 61 percent of the voters favored Proposition 6. The witch hunts, which would continue as teachers and public employees were \"exposed,\" were too much to bear for GLBTQ activists. Even so, GLBTQ journalists and leaders like Milk asked for calm and tried to keep solidarity at the fore as the GLBTQ community faced a certain defeat in November.\n\nMilk's response, as we might expect, was to fight. By his battle plan, one must ceaselessly talk, speaking out to explode the homophobic myths and hysteria that the Religious Right and opportunists such as John Briggs exploited to their ideological and political advantage. And talk he did, refuting the lies and distortions that asserted that homosexuality is a choice, that GLBTQ individuals are the primary perpetrators of child molestation and abuse, that GLBTQ people recruit by becoming \"role models\" for the \"lifestyle,\" and simultaneously promoting the idea that homosexuality is natural, given, omnipresent, good, and undeserving of discrimination, harassment, and violence.\n\nIn mobilizing the GLBTQ community to rise up against Briggs, Milk employed a patriotic collective memory, quoting Patrick Henry, the Declaration of Independence, the Statue of Liberty's pedestal welcome, and \"The Star Spangled Banner.\" In the address that follows, one gets a sense for the flavor of Milk's use of such memory. The analogies employed speak to Milk's insistence on linking gay rights with American liberation. Harkening back to a distinctly American past, in this vein, allowed Milk to connect GLBTQ communities to other oppressed groups who had both faced and fought the \"long train of abuses\" first articulated by the nation's forebears\u2014from African Americans and Native Americans to women, laborers, and religious minorities.\n\nMoreover, Milk began characterizing Briggs and his supporters as fascists and Nazis. This would become a common trope employed to expose the viciousness of Proposition 6. Raised in a Jewish home, it might not be a surprise that Milk favored the Holocaust trope, likening Briggs to Hitler and GLBTQ folks to Jews oppressed by the genocidal Nazi regime. This invective pivoted the debate in terms of good and evil. And such a Judeo-Christian theme of innocents and sinners was a necessary tactic, as Milk and his allies faced fighting what he continually called the Religious Right. Dismantling the proverbial master's house with the master's tools would eventually prove effective for Milk. And of course, the analogizing of anyone or anything considered \"evil\" with the ultimate enemy in Western history underscored Milk's savvy as a rhetor. Simultaneously, Milk made it clear that he was not afraid of these homophobic \"Nazis.\" In a later Bay Area Reporter article, Milk wrote, \"Do you think gay people are going with their heads bowed to the gas chambers? I mean, I'll go kicking and screaming before I go with my head bowed. Three hundred thousand gays went into the gas chambers in Germany [sic] and then six million Jews. I don't think the Jews are going to go quietly next time, so why should gay people?\" The fight against Briggs oftentimes boiled down to self-empowerment for Milk.\n\nOne other noteworthy element of Milk's 1978 Gay Freedom Day Speech is what became his signature opening line during the months of the Briggs debate: \"I'm Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you.\" This announcement was a play on Briggs' insistence that GLBTQ teachers \"recruited\" their students into an elusive and mysterious \"gayness.\" Milk's humor often set his discourse apart from other activists as lively, comfortable, and witty.\n\nUltimately, 1978's version of San Francisco's Gay Freedom Day parade became incredibly political. As the San Diego Union noted in the parade's wake, \"The focus of the event [this year] was a voter initiative on the November ballot that has been widely labeled anti-gay.\" The Las Vegas Review Journal described the event for its readers in this way: \"Singing slightly altered songs like, 'When the Dykes Go Marching In,' an estimated 240,000 gays and their supporters marched through downtown streets Sunday. . . . A group of gay teachers marched along chanting, 'Two, four, six, eight\u2014our Miss Brooks wasn't straight.'\" All in all, the typical street theater bacchanalia became a fun and festive, yet politically centered, event to both raise awareness about the Briggs Initiative and to raise money to defeat it.\n\n. . .\n\nMy name is Harvey Milk\u2014and I want to recruit you for the fight to preserve your democracy from the John Briggs' and the Anita Bryants who are trying to constitutionalize bigotry. We are not going to allow that to happen. We are not going to sit back in silence as 300,000 of our Gay sisters and brothers did in Nazi Germany. We are not going to allow our rights to be taken away and then march with bowed heads to the gas chambers. On this anniversary of Stonewall, I ask my Gay sisters and brothers to make their commitment to fight. For themselves, for their freedom, for their country.\n\nHere in San Francisco we recently held an election for a judgeship. An anti-Gay smear campaign was waged against a presiding judge because she was supported by Lesbians and Gay men. Here, in so-called liberal San Francisco, an anti-Gay smear campaign was waged by so-called liberals. And here in so-called liberal San Francisco, we have a columnist for the San Francisco Examiner, Kevin Starr, who has printed a number of columns containing distortions and lies about Gays. He's getting away with it.\n\nThese anti-Gay smear campaigns, these anti-Gay columns, are laying the groundwork for the Briggs Initiative. We had better be prepared for it.\n\nIn the Examiner, Kevin Starr defames and libels Gays. In the Chronicle, Charles McCabe warns us to be quiet, that talking about Gay rights is counter-productive. To Mr. McCabe, I say that the day he stops talking about freedom of the press is the day he no longer has it. The Blacks did not win their rights by sitting quietly in the back of the bus! They got off! We will not win our rights by staying quietly in our closets. . . We are coming out! We are coming out to fight the lies, the myths, the distortions! We are coming out to tell the truth about Gays! For I am tired of the conspiracy of silence.\n\nI'm tired of listening to the Anita Bryants twist the language and the meaning of the Bible to fit their own distorted outlook. But I'm even more tired of the silence from the religious leaders of this nation who know that she is playing fast and loose with the true meaning of the Bible. I'm tired of their silence more than of her biblical gymnastics!\n\nAnd I'm tired of John Briggs talking about false role models. He's lying through his teeth and he knows it. But I'm even more tired of the silence from educators and psychologists who know that Briggs is lying and yet say nothing. I'm tired of their silence more than of Briggs' lies.\n\nGay people are painted as child molesters. I want to talk about that. I want to talk about the myth of child molestations by Gays. I want to talk about the fact that in this state some 95% of child molestations are heterosexual and usually committed by a parent. That all child abandonments are heterosexual. That all abuse of children is by their heterosexual parents. That some 98% of the six million rapes committed annually in this country are heterosexual. That one out of every three women who will be murdered in this state this year will be murdered by their husbands. That some 30% of all heterosexual marriages contain domestic violence.\n\nAnd finally, I want to tell the John Briggs' and the Anita Bryants that they talk about the myths of Gays, but today I'm talking about the facts of heterosexual violence and what the hell are you going to do about that?\n\nClean up your own house before you start telling lies about Gays. Don't distort the Bible to hide your own sins; don't change facts to lies; don't look for cheap political advantage in playing upon people's fears. Judging by the polls, even the youth of this state can tell you're lying Anita Bryant, John Briggs\u2014your deliberate lies and distortions, your unwillingness to face the truth, chills my blood\u2014it reeks of madness!\n\nAnd like the rest of you, I'm tired of our so-called \"friends\" who tell us that we must set standards. What standards? The standards of the rapists? The wife beaters? The child abusers? The people who ordered the bomb to be built? The people who ordered it to be dropped? The people who pulled the trigger? The people who gave us Vietnam? The people who built the concentration camps\u2014right here in California\u2014and then herded all the Japanese Americans into them during World War II . . . The Jew baiters? The nigger knockers? The corporate thieves? The Nixons? The Hitlers?\n\nWhat standards do you want us to set? Clean up your own act. Clean up your violence before you criticize Lesbians and Gay men because of their sexuality. . . . It is madness to glorify killing and violence on one hand and to be ashamed of the sexual act that conceived you on the other hand. There is a difference between morality and murder. The fact is that more people have been slaughtered in the name of religion than for any other single reason. That, my friends, is the true perversion!\n\nGay brothers and sisters, what are you going to do about it? You must come out. Come out to your parents, your relatives. I know that it is hard and that it will hurt them, but think of how they will hurt you in the voting booth! Come out to your friends, if indeed they are your friends. Come out to your neighbors, to your co-workers, to the people who work where you eat and shop. Come out only to the people you know and who know you. Not to anyone else. But once and for all, break down the myths; destroy the lies and distortions for your own sake, for their sake, for the sake of the youngsters who are being terrified by the votes coming from Dade County to Eugene. If Briggs wins he will not stop. They never do. Like all mad people, they are forced to go on, to prove they were right. There will be no safe closet for any Gay person. So break out of yours today; tear the damn thing down once and for all!\n\nAnd finally, most of all, I'm tired of the silence from the White House. Jimmy Carter, you talk about human rights a lot; in fact, you want to be the world's leader for human rights. Well, damn it, lead! There are some 15-20 million Lesbians and Gay men in this nation listening very carefully. Jimmy Carter, when are you going to talk about THEIR rights? You talk a lot about the Bible, but when are you going to talk about the most important part: \"Love Thy Neighbor\"? After all, she may be Gay.\n\nJimmy Carter, you have the choice. How many more years? How much more violence? How much more damage? How many more lives? History says that, like all groups seeking their rights, sooner or later we will win. The question is: When?\n\nJimmy Carter, you have to make the choice. Either years of violence, or you can help turn the pages of history that much faster. And now, before it becomes too late, come to California and speak out against Briggs.\n\nIf you don't\u2014then we will come to you! If you do not speak out, if you remain silent, if you do not lift your voice against Briggs, then I call upon Lesbians and Gay men from all over the nation, your nation, to gather in Washington one year from now on that national day of freedom, the Fourth of July. To gather on the same spot where over a decade ago Dr. Martin Luther King spoke to a nation of his dreams . . . dreams that are fast fading, dreams that to many millions in this country have become nightmares. I call upon all minorities and especially the millions of Lesbians and Gay men to wake up from their dreams . . . to gather in Washington and tell Jimmy carter and their nation: \"Wake up . . . Wake up, America. No more racism; no more sexism; no more ageism; no more hatred. No more!\"\n\nJimmy Carter, listen to us today. Or you will have to listen to all of us from all over the nation as we gather in Washington next year. For we WILL gather there and we will tell you about America and what it really stands for.\n\n. . . And to the bigots . . . To the John Briggs' . . . To the Anita Bryants . . . To the Kevin Starrs and all their ilk: Let me remind you what America is. Listen carefully. On the Statue of Liberty it says, \"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free. . . .\" In the Declaration of Independence it is written, \"All men are created equal and they are endowed with certain inalienable rights. . . .\" And in our national anthem it says: \"Oh say does that star spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free. . .\"\n\nFor Mr. Briggs and Mrs. Green and Mr. Starr and all the bigots out there: That's what America is. No matter how hard you try, you cannot erase those words from the Declaration of Independence. No matter how hard you try, you cannot chip those words off the base of the Statue of Liberty. And no matter how hard you try, you cannot sing the STAR SPANGLED BANNER without those words. THAT's what America is, LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT!\n38\n\n\"To Beat Briggs\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, August 3, 1978\n\nAs the \"Summer of Briggs\" continued, Milk's frustration with middle-of-the-road GLBTQ community members reluctant to join the fight increased. Ostensibly, complacency and apathy incensed his spirit of vigilant reform. His August 3, 1978, forum editorial in the Bay Area Reporter presented his frustrations. In effect, he directly charged his readers with getting involved\u2014monetarily as well as in spirit. Milk articulated this claim laden with guilt alongside a sense of fear. The latter pathos appeal spoke to the importance of self-safety (physical and public). Milk wrote, \"Unless the Gay community, in total, starts to act now, it will be too late.\" Here, Milk reminded GLBTQ readers that Briggs's focus on exposing and occluding teachers was just the beginning of what such a homophobic law could propagate in terms of other, farther stretching anti-GLBTQ legislation. Just as Bryant's campaign had given way to Briggs's proposal, so to was the worry that the successful passage of Proposition 6 would give rise to other homophobic demagogues determined to restrict further the public liberties and personal freedoms of GLBTQ communities. Milk was recorded in a later retrospective as writing, \"If Briggs wins, he will not stop. They never do. Like all mad people, they are forced to go on, to prove they are right; there will be no safe closet for any gay person. So break out of yours today; tear the damn thing down once and for all!\" Again, this sentiment evinced the palpable fear that Milk held close; the essay below seethes with his anger for apathetic community members and teems with his insistence that they support the anti-Briggs campaign.\n\n. . .\n\nIn just about 90 days there will be an election in this state over the Briggs Initiative, Prop. 6. That could turn the mood of the nation more to the Right or more to the Left. It is more than just the rights of Gay teachers. Every Gay professional person\u2014every Gay person who has any kind of license\u2014has to realize that they may be next. The list will not end. Every effort by every Gay person must be made to defeat this initiative.\n\n\"I don't have to worry . . . it can never happen here in San Francisco!\" That is a comment that I have heard too often these past few weeks. Sounds like some of the unaware Jews talking during the early days of Hitler. That attitude itself could very well bring about disaster. Letting others do the work . . . do the financing . . . etc., because it does not affect you personally\u2014right now\u2014is exactly why the Briggs Initiative could pass. No one is going to win the battle for Gay rights if the Gay community does not put its full effort into the battle. Yet, a vast number of Gays seem to think that by talking about how bad Briggs is will in itself do the battle. By the time the anti-Gay ads hit the media and mails it will be too late. The battle must be fought now, before the hate campaign starts. And sitting home, or in your friendly bar, won't help one bit. It will also take money.\n\nNO MORE BAR MITZVAHS\n\nGays don't spend a lot of money on their children's education or birthdays. On their children's bar mitzvahs, weddings, confirmations. Gays don't put funds aside in large insurance policies or trusts for their mates and family. Thus the potential is there for Gays to contribute more towards a political campaign to protect themselves than non-Gays can. If every Gay person gave a small amount, there would be enough funds to mount a strong fight against Briggs. And if every Gay person contributed an amount equal to what they would have put into a child's education, clothing, food, gifts, etc., if they had one, then there would be enough money to mount a winning campaign. Yet, for some reason, Gay people don't seem to understand the need to fund this battle. For some reason Gay people feel someone else will put up the funds and volunteer their time.\n\nTHE HATE CAMPAIGN\n\nUnless there is a rapid change in attitudes, unless there is a fast awakening of consciousness, there will be a rude awakening come November. I have a copy of the first volley against Gays put out by the Concerned Christians. It is not just against Gays teaching. It includes the ministry, police and fire fighters. It, in effect, links Gays and pornography as one and the same thing. And that is just the beginning.\n\nUnless the Gay community, in total, starts to act now, it will be too late. It will not be a campaign that will be won on the last days as many \"candidate\" campaigns are. This will take a long time to win . . . people have to be talked to, on a one-to-one basis. And more than once. It cannot be done after the hate starts to pour out.\n\nAlready here in San Francisco the signs are for a rotten campaign to be waged against us. It ain't pleasant. Please get involved. Please give of your time and funds. Both are badly needed.\n\nSNOW WHITE & SAFETY\n\nSnow White made famous the concept of \"Whistle While You Work.\" For the past several years, the Richard Harkness Butterfly Brigade has been making famous the concept of \"Carry A Whistle For Your Protection.\" Several thousand are out there. More are needed. The concept has spread to Chicago and other cities. The \"carry a whistle\" works!\n\nWith the long hot summer still here and the Briggs hate campaign starting, there could well be an increase to the violence against Gays that already exists. The best protection is to carry a police whistle. Use it only when either under attack or when you see another person under attack. When you hear one being blown you, and you, and you, and you, respond. With yours and on the run. A lot of violence has already been abated by the use of whistles. A lot of violence may well have been abated by the simple knowledge that the whistle force exists. The cost: $1.00! It could very well make the difference between a safe neighborhood\u2014no matter where you live\u2014and a violent one. Many stores in the Castro Village area carry them. A good investment!\n39\n\n\"I Have High Hopes Address\"\n\nStump speech, 1978\n\nEven in the midst of the Briggs fight, Milk never left his populist roots. Lest history look back at the final months of Milk's life as dedicated solely to the anti-Proposition 6 campaign, the stump address he delivered around San Francisco in the summer of 1978 concerning \"the people\" proved otherwise. As with his early discourse from 1978 (see Document 27), Milk kept his attention focused on his notion of a \"city of neighborhoods.\" Below, he reminded his constituencies that \"Perhaps the most valuable resource of any city\u2014and the one that's ignored the most\u2014is the people who live in it.\"\n\nOne of Milk's favorite citizen groups was the senior population. He was a constant advocate for senior rights, and had he lived longer, he indeed would have initiated plans for employing seniors and ensuring that their golden years were both fulfilling and comfortable. As fond as Milk was of children (one of his hobbies was dressing as a clown for community events), he also had a genuine affinity for seniors. As he saw it, both groups represented the bookends of life in San Francisco. Milk even considered putting the two groups together in his populist vision for the \"city of neighborhoods\": \"And we might consider employing some of our seniors as PSAs\u2014'Practical Student Aides'\u2014to help out as tutors. We could even include them in the school's hot-lunch program.\" As always, Milk elevated people above business.\n\n. . .\n\nI have high hopes for the future of our cities. I have high hopes for the future of San Francisco. Granted its present problems, I have high hopes that the city of the future\u2014our City of the future\u2014will be one that will enrich the lives of all the people who live in it.\n\nMost plans for the city of the future involve money\u2014lots of it, more than any city could afford. But there are improvements that can be made in the city that don't necessarily involve lots of money. That require, instead, generous amounts of imagination\u2014and heart.\n\nPerhaps the most valuable resource of any city\u2014and the one that's ignored the most\u2014is the people who live in it, particularly the elderly. At present, we treat our senior citizens like so many beer cans, to be discarded after use. But the seniors are the very same people who made this city. They're you and I, twenty or thirty or forty years from now.\n\nSenior citizens don't suddenly lose their expertise, their knowledge of what makes things work, and how, at the magic age of 65. Instead of scrapping them, why not use them? Why limit their contributions to civic life to service on the Commission for Aging, or related agencies? Why not appoint them to other boards and commissions? Their feeling for the human dimensions of a city would make them invaluable.\n\nAnd there are other ways in which we could use our \"Senior Power.\" I would like to see a complex that we might call a \"people-center\"\u2014a complex that contains schools, hospitals, child-care centers and senior centers. It might even have a center for minor criminal offenders.\n\nIn such a center, our Seniors could be employed in the hospital section to read to patients or as aides to the staff. They might help staff our childcare center. Those who commit minor crimes might also be employed to work in various portions of the center. Perhaps the senior citizen would meet the \"inmate\" and discover that he's good at math. \"Then why aren't you an accountant?\" \"Because I never went to school.\" And the next day the \"inmate\" might enroll in the center school, with the senior citizen as a tutor.\n\nSomeday, the \"inmate\" would leave the center for a decent job. And the senior citizen\u2014and society\u2014will have discovered that his own talents are still worthwhile, that he qualifies for something more than \"no deposit, no return.\"\n\nAnd perhaps the child enrolled in the people-center school will learn more than the Three R's. He will have discovered that prisoners, too, have hopes and aspirations, that being old need not be a period of uselessness, and that life is really about people helping people.\n\nThe great thing about imagination is that a little of it can go a long way. With not too much effort, we could turn small areas of our older hotels, or empty store fronts, into much-needed child-care centers. We might even pay some of our senior citizens to help staff them.\n\nAnd we might consider employing some of our seniors as PSA's\u2014\"Practical Student Aides\"\u2014to help out as tutors. We could even include them in the school's hot-lunch program.\n\nThere are other problems that might yield to imagination. Why must an industrial \"complex\" be an area of brick buildings, railroad tracks and shanties that dies every evening at five when the workers go home? Why not intermix home and factory, make factories light and airy so people would enjoy working in them\u2014and then ban the automobile!\n40\n\n\"Harvey Milk vs. John Briggs\"\n\nTelevised debate transcription, August 6, 1978\n\nAs the referendum vote on Proposition 6 inched closer and closer, Milk and Briggs engaged in numerous public debates. Many were not recorded; of those that were many are nearly inaudible and, at their best, difficult to translate. One of the extant (and clear) exchanges between the two adversaries was aired on August 6, 1978, on San Francisco's KPIX-TV. The heated chat was later rebroadcast around California. In this televised \"discussion\"\u2014over a restaurant table with an unnamed moderator\u2014the talk was anything but cordial. In the transcript that follows, Briggs attempted to reframe Proposition 6 as attending solely to GLBTQ teachers rather than denying \"anybody the right to a job.\" Milk, of course, refuted this idea, suggesting that the Briggs Initiative would be the first of many dominoes to fall should GLBTQ teachers be banned in the state of California (see Document 38, Document 40, and Document 42). Interestingly, the discussion turned to the issue of \"choice\" as it related to sexualities\u2014still a hotly contested and robust issue to this day. Milk chided Briggs for assuming that people simply stake out their sexualities \"like you would choose your candidates.\" In the process, Milk addressed the myths that Briggs and his supporters espoused.\n\nThroughout the series of debates over the summer (and into early fall) of 1978, Milk was calm and methodical in his approach. Working alongside debate partner and San Francisco State University professor Sally Gearhart, he stuck to verifiable statistics when talking about exploding homosexual myths (i.e., \"90 to 95 percent of all known child molesters are heterosexual men\") and reasoned narrative evidence when it came to the topic of choice (i.e., \"I was born of heterosexual parents. I was taught by heterosexual teachers. In a society that's so fiercely heterosexual, who was there to tell me, 'Gee, Harvey, you ought to be homosexual!'\").\n\nOn the other hand, Briggs remained true to form, demonstrating his constant and blatant heterosexism during the discussions. Oftentimes snapping and issuing non sequiturs, he once told a moderator who mentioned how Governor Ronald Reagan disagreed with the Briggs Initiative, \"I really don't care what Gov. Reagan says. [He] comes from the same Hollywood crowd [that financed a great deal of the anti-Prop 6 campaign]. About 90 percent of the films that come out of Hollywood that are pornographic are homosexual films.\" Other times, Briggs became visibly and physically hostile. A San Francisco Examiner article from October 1978 reported that KSFO radio reporter Tony Russomanno was attacked by Briggs after one debate. Russomanno stopped Briggs to ask how the senator thought the debate went. Briggs called him \"a first class liar . . . then seized Russomanno's microphone, pushed it against his chest and neck and shoved him out of the way.\" To many, Briggs's feigned statistics, outlandish comments, and\u2014eventually\u2014his physical responses smacked of desperation.\n\nIndeed, as the documents preceding and following the present debate transcript indicate, Briggs's motivations were severely in question. Perhaps voters brought those very doubts to the polls with them in November of 1978.\n\n. . .\n\nBriggs: I'll tell you what [Proposition] 6 does not do. It does not deny you the right to be a supervisor. It does not deny anybody in this room a right to have a job.\n\nMilk: Yes, it does, it denies people the right to teach.\n\nBriggs: But there are no teachers in this room.\n\nMilk: But we don't know; there are some other people in this room.\n\nBriggs: It does not deny anybody the right to a job. It does not deny anybody the right to rent or buy a house. All it does is say that parents\u2014parents have the ultimate right as to who is going to teach their children.\n\nMilk: Wait, wait, wait. Based on that\u2014on that \"ultimate right,\" at one time parents didn't want blacks to teach. At one time they didn't want women to teach. You know, the old Bible says women shouldn't be teachers, in the Old Testament. At one time. Because parents are locked in\u2014they're afraid of something different. They're afraid of change. Because of fears and myths put into their heads. . . . One of those myths in this new ordnance is that you choose your sexuality. You don't choose your homosexuality. Like you don't choose blue eyes. Like you would choose your candidates . . .\n\nBriggs: I care about this country. And I care about the family. And I really, sincerely, honestly, and truly believe from the bottom of my heart that homosexuality is a real threat to the survival of this country, if we continue to tolerate it and approve it and let it be raised to an equal level and standard of heterosexuality. That's what I truly believe.\n\nMilk: That's the oldest game in the world! That's why I keep saying to you, study! I would be surprised what your next step is! . . . [Homosexuality] is not ever done because of an experience. It is determined before school age. And as every scientific study done says, it is not a choice. It is not a choice. That's the most fundamental mistake conservatives like Briggs bring up.\n\nBriggs: But children learn by example. Children emulate. People need heroes. I said at the opening of the show that the reason you wanted to be elected to high office is so you can recruit and convert every young, adolescent homosexual. Those were your own words!\n\nMilk: No, no, no. I said that one of the reasons of being elected is I'm a role model to young gay people. To young gay people. You see? You mis\u2014turn things around like you turn everything else around.\n\nBriggs: What about a teacher who's a role model?\n\nMilk: A teacher to a [particular] sexual orientation? You see, Senator, you're turning things around. My statement was, I'm a role model to the young gay people. To people who have already established themselves as gay. Period. I didn't say\u2014you're the one who keeps bringing up this phony recruitment. You know you're lying. You know you're changing the statements around. And you're doing that all the way around, just like you shifted the money around in your campaigns. And you talk about morality! And I question, what is your real motive behind it? What is your real ambition behind this? What are you really using this for? And stop this phony issue!\n41\n\n\"The Positive or the Negative\"\n\nColumn, Bay Area Reporter, August 31, 1978\n\nToward the summer's end, Milk continued to worry about the divisions of ideological and spiritual commitments within the GLBTQ community regarding the Briggs Initiative fight. The editorial below outlined the three categories of community members that Milk saw implicated in the struggle to defeat the Briggs Initiative. He asked his readers to \"Take your choice!\" and, of course, recommended that they fall into the category of \"The Positive Beat\"\u2014\"those who feel that we can win against Briggs.\" As the campaign amped up and reached its climax, Milk's movement had lesbians and gay men pass around the following palm card as a means of educating heterosexual voters, but also firming-up the movement's members: \"The purpose of this card is to make you aware of the fact that you ride with, talk to, eat with, and see gay people every day. I hope that the time you sent with me has helped you to realize that we are people just like you. Please think carefully about the Briggs Initiative before you vote in November, because it directly affects human rights, particularly mine as a gay person.\" The movement also inspired rallies in the days leading up to that fateful November election day, such as those in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego, not to mention solidarity parades in New York, Houston, and New Orleans. Milk even published an editorial during the summer, telling people, \"If each person puts into the fight 2 hours per week, that is about 30 hours. A little more than one day in your life to win freedom\u2014not just for Gays, but for all. It is a small amount of time . . . less than the amount of time each person would spend in a bar one night a week or at a movie one day a week.\" He and his allies were pulling out all the stops leading into the election.\n\nIn effect, Milk called to his community one last time\u2014with just over two months until the Proposition 6 referendum\u2014for a last push. This Milk Forum piece showed the pressure that was mounting, and that Milk was experiencing, as the battle over the Briggs Initiative hit its crescendo. In a sense, Milk's editorial struck fear in his audience; it appeared to him that there was no safe haven or quarter for anyone out of the closet. His last push for others' involvement in the anti-Proposition 6 campaign was serious business\u2014expediency, worry, and frustration framed Milk's tone in the following editorial.\n\n. . .\n\nTake your choice. Strong positive or strong negative. That seems to be what's happening in the Gay community with the Briggs\/Bryant forces coming down on us. From input that I'm getting, Gays are falling into one or the other category. Take your choice!\n\nTHE NEGATIVE BEAT\n\nThere are those in the Gay community who have given up the battle against Briggs even before it gets under full steam. They take the position that no matter what we, do we cannot win. So they start to crawl back into their closets and try to shut out all light . . . all hope. They want to have every Gay \"be nice.\" They want Gay to become invisible. They are willing to allow all the young people who are \"coming out\" to go through the hell that so many people have gone through in the past\u2014feeling alone and frightened with no help, no hope. They have even taken the position that since they are not teachers, the Briggs initiative doesn't affect them. They won't register to vote! \"What difference does it make?\" is their line.\n\nTHE POSITIVE BEAT\n\nThen there is the positive beat. Those who feel that we can win against Briggs and will do everything possible to see that it can happen. And that spirit runs across the lines out of the field of politics and into all aspects. That spirit can be summed up by calling attention to the Gay physicians and psychiatrists who in the face of a possible witch hunt have broken down their closet doors and \"come out,\" destroying myths in doing so . . . giving hope in doing so. That spirit can be summed up by the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Marching Band and Twirling Corps and the powerful sense of excitement they bring at each of their performances. That spirit can be summed up by the Gay-Police charity softball game which, once again, on many levels, showed what coexistence means. The Bryants\/Briggs would never be able to understand the spirit of that game and the long-range ramifications. Bigots don't understand. Finally, that spirit can be summed up by those who are taking an active part in the anti-Briggs campaign. The task set out to them is huge, and they are tackling it\u2014now.\n\nTHE SIDELINERS\n\nThe rest of the Gay community, those who are on the sidelines, are those who are watching it all take place and just talk about it without getting up and joining one side or the other. If that multitude sitting on the sidelines were to get up and join the positive side en masse then Briggs\/Bryant would be stopped. If they continue to sit on the sideline and just talk, then we are in serious trouble. And, if they get up and move to the negative side, then repression will become a reality. The sad thing is that right now that multitude is just sitting there and not making its positive move. It is a sad fact that when it does understand it has to move, it may be too late. The positive work takes longer and more effort than the negative approach. Maybe that is why such a relative few have made that positive move. They are not willing to fight for their rights. The hate campaign has yet to begin in full force. Once it does, it might be too late to beat it back. The fight has to begin right now . . . yesterday. It must be fired up now. Volunteers and funds are the only way to beat Briggs . . . good vibrations won't do it!\n\nThis is as deep and as urgent an appeal as I can make. Please! If everyone in the Gay community would just commit a few hours and\/ or a few dollars per week, we can win. If everyone waits for the other person to move first, we lose. If you feel that your effort won't make the difference, you are wrong! If you think that tomorrow will do, you are wrong! The army needs to start its movement now. San Franciscans Against Briggs, BACABI [the Bay Area Committee Against the Briggs Initiative], No on 6, and A United Fund to Defeat the Briggs Initiative are making their moves, but they need you . . . badly! For they are you. Without you they really don't exist. If Briggs wins, he will continue his Gay-hunt. He must be stopped now, and only YOU can do it.\n42\n\n\"Statement on Briggs\/Bigotry\"\n\nPublic letter, September 22, 1978\n\nIn September 1978, Milk and other leaders of the movement to defeat Proposition 6 organized a legal symposium at the Hastings College of Law regarding gay rights under the current law and what the contours of these rights\u2014and other minorities' rights\u2014would be reduced to in the event of a Briggs Initiative victory. The document below is an invitation to GLBTQ community members to attend this symposium. In the process of bringing people together to explore legal ramifications of Proposition 6, Milk laid bare some of the overt\u2014and not so overt\u2014\"facts\" about the current climate in California concerning gay rights and the larger issue of human rights. Namely, as he noted in a June campaign letter related to this topic, \"We are a group of citizens who understands the Briggs Initiative to be an alarming and increasingly strong reactionary attitude in the U.S., and we further understand that gay people are linked with women, ethnic minorities, old people, disabled people and the bulk of the nation's labor force as immediate or eventual targets of the witch hunts that would be the result of any victory for this reactionary mindset.\" As always, Milk linked the GLBTQ community with other disenfranchised groups in the service of accomplishing larger goals.\n\nInterestingly, his message in this invitation at once provoked terror while also indicating some collective strength. There is a sense of dread as the November election day drew near and Briggs seemed to be gaining momentum. At the same time, however, the power to stymie this oppressive initiative was in the peoples' hands. As with his earlier appeals for community involvement (see Document 39), Milk argued that defeating Proposition 6 could only be done if more GLBTQ folks, in particular, contributed their energies to the cause.\n\n. . .\n\nRecently, I faced Republican State Senator John Briggs in a two-hour debate. Every \"argument\" that Briggs used was based upon myths, fears, lies, innuendos and ignorance. He obviously knows little about the subject he is discussing and cares little for the truth.\n\nI feel the Senator is using the gay community as scapegoats, much as Hitler used the Jews as scapegoats and Nixon used the communists in his drive for power.\n\nSenator Briggs is trying to constitutionalize bigotry. He will not be successful. His stands fly in the face of why America was formed, why the Constitution was written and why it has been amended since to guarantee the rights of Blacks, women and others.\n\nBut the horrors of the Briggs Initiative are not the only problems faced by lesbians and gay men in this state and in this country.\n\nOne would like to think that most Americans are opposed to discrimination. But history tells us that is not so. For over 100 years, we were content to treat Blacks as property. For over 100 years we were content to deprive women of the simple right to vote.\n\nAnd, of course, for well over 200 years, this country has been content to treat homosexuals as something less than human. The fact is that in 1978 it is perfectly acceptable to fire a gay person from his or her job, not for any reason related to the job, but simply because that person is gay.\n\nThe fact is that in 1978, it is perfectly acceptable for police in almost any city in this country to harass a gay person, not because that person has broken a law, but simply because he or she is gay.\n\nThe fact is that in 1978 it's perfectly acceptable to watch a gay person in jail be sexually assaulted because our sadistic morality tells us that he or she deserves it, simply because he or she is gay.\n\nAnd in 1978 it's perfectly acceptable for courts to take a child from a gay parent and place that child in a foster home because people won't believe that a gay parent can love and take care of a child as well as any non-gay parent.\n\nThe concept of gay rights frightens people. And maybe it should. Not because it threatens their children; it does not.\n\nGay rights frightens people because it shatters the myths that have been perpetrated by this society ever since the days when homosexuals were set afire at the stakes in Salem with bundles of stacks called \"faggots.\"\n\nWhat is even more regretful is that many gay people have also been brainwashed with these myths and are struggling to find peace with themselves. They are not aware of what rights they do have, what rights they should have and what rights they can have.\n\nTomorrow and Sunday, Hasting College of the Law will host a Gay Rights Under the Law Symposium.\n\nWe have brought together leading attorneys and activists from across the United States to discuss the status and future of gay rights. The conference will provide the first opportunity for an exchange of litigation and lobbying strategies in the area of gay rights.\n\nRepresentatives of the United Farmworkers and the NAACP will discuss how they have confronted the similar problems their groups have faced.\n\nHopefully someday soon, conferences like this will not be necessary and society will accept its gay citizens with the same respect and tolerance it affords everyone else.\n43\n\n\"Overall Needs of the City\"\n\nSpeech, September 25, 1978\n\nOnly six months into their terms, the newly elected San Francisco City Supervisors were accused of self-serving politics by powerful community leaders wishing to go back to citywide elections. Recall that district elections allowed individual neighborhoods to vote for their respective representatives. The overt concern of these critics was that San Francisco's overall needs would be pushed aside in the maelstrom of the Supervisors fighting for their particular districts' well-being. Covertly, there was speculation that these more oppressive forces did not like that one neighborhood could elect a Chinese American, one could elect an African American woman, and\u2014of course\u2014that one could elect an openly (and proudly) GLBTQ individual. Such a plurality of voices and diversity of backgrounds potentially threatened traditional power bases and monied interests in San Francisco.\n\nThere were a number of issues that raised doubts about the genuine care of these critics and the veracity of their claims. First, the Supervisors had barely begun their terms before a Grand Jury was called to review evidence provided by the anti-district election proponents. Clearly, there was not enough time to be able to ascertain a fair conclusion about the alleged corruption of district-elected Supervisors. Second, the critics failed to understand that any elected official represents, first and foremost, her or his district. Even in the case of citywide elections, localized neighborhoods were to be centered as key constituencies. Third, the Grand Jury focused\u2014at least in terms of Milk\u2014on his support of the gay rights ordnance as evidence that he only cared about District 5 (as if there were no GLBTQ individuals living in other districts). As a populist, stretching back to his foray into San Francisco politics in 1973, Milk had always been interested in overall reform. And indeed, in the press release that follows he reminded his constituents that he worked hard for every facet of the city's people and their myriad problems. For instance, his campaign materials from the 1977 election note that his platform involved building housing developments, reducing public transportation costs for citizens, cleaning up public green spaces, fundraising for community centers, and working with police to ensure more safety in the districts. Yes, of course, he also sought a gay rights ordinance and labored to fight Proposition 6. But in the end, Milk's populist sensibilities never gave way, even when a majority of his time and energy was focused on the Briggs Initiative.\n\nThe entire issue of the Grand Jury investigation exposed some of the fear of the power interests in San Francisco who were worried about what near-true representation of the city's people (i.e., through district elections) would do for monied interests. If power brokers could not control cross-city elections, as they had in the past, then seemingly people in the \"city of neighborhoods\" would have more say. As for Milk, he questioned what antagonists thought were San Francisco's true needs. Milk, often backed by supervisory assistant Anne Kronenberg, was fond of sending press releases from his desk in City Hall. He viewed this as a part of his daily responsibilities as a populist leader. Sometimes offering advice or a summary of doings in his office and other times seeking public support or making a scathing argument against monied interests, Milk's press releases pepper the archive. Most of the documents are mundane, but some stand out\u2014examples of Milk's fiery political stances and forth-rightness. Even the mundane releases are worth examining, to get a sense for Milk's daily work as a city and GLBTQ leader. The press release that follows, however, is not to be classified under the \"mundane\" category.\n\n. . .\n\nThe Civil Grand Jury, in its report last week, chastised the current Board of Supervisors, the first one elected by district. It charged the Supervisors with being more concerned with their personal constituencies than with the \"overall needs of the City.\" And it attempted to link this with its major concern, that of middle class flight from San Francisco. . . .\n\nThe new Board has been in office less than a year and hadn't been more than 6 months by the time the report was completed. This was hardly enough time for the Grand Jury to study the long-range, permanent effects of district elections.\n\nI also question what the Grand Jury considers the City's \"overall needs.\"\n\nMany, many people have commented to me about how much more responsive the current Supervisors are to public opinion and participation. That's an important \"need\" for city residents.\n\nI know that the dirty streets of District 5 receive much more attention now than they did before\u2014as do the dirty streets of every District where the Supervisor cares. The same is true of the many small issues that concern people. That, too, is an important \"need.\"\n\nTrue, I spend much of my time dealing with issues of particular concern to neighborhoods and people of District 5. But I also work hard on the many city-wide issues like budgets, dog litter, Yerba Buena, housing costs, sewers and zoning and I also work on state issues, like Proposition 13 and now, Proposition 6. The same is true of the other members of the Board. This is a \"need\" that is being met.\n\nBut most puzzling about the Grand Jury report is how it tried to tie district elections to \"middle class flight\" from San Francisco. There has been no census since district elections went into effect and the current Board has been in office. I don't know on what basis the Grand Jury could have measured \"middle class flight\" in the last few months.\n\nThe problem of families leaving San Francisco has been in existence for over ten years, hardly the result of something we have done only recently. It is an important problem, to be sure, but it is not one that will be solved by spending millions of tax dollars from other San Franciscans, as the report suggests.\n\nThe plight of seniors and minorities in our City is also a major problem, though the Grand Jury overlooked them. The current Board has certainly paid a great deal more attention to these people than did the old, at-large Board.\n\nMaybe the Grand Jury should have talked to the District Supervisors before they wrote their report. I know of at least one who they didn't bother to talk to.\n\nMaybe that was because its members figured they knew what I'd say, just like they \"knew\" what the long-range effects of district elections were and they \"knew\" why the middle class was leaving San Francisco.\n44\n\n\"Ballot Argument Against Proposition 6\"\n\nPublic letter (with Frank Robinson), November 7, 1978\n\nBy the time the Briggs Initiative referendum came and went, Milk and Briggs had engaged in countless debates across the state of California. In effect, the public debates involved mostly boilerplate arguments\u2014those that were recycled time and time again. Both Milk and Briggs could anticipate each other's questions and answers. In strange ways, the two political gladiators fighting for the lives of their constituents had become friendly on the road and in the wings of their public verbal battles. Regardless of the repetition involved in the debates, Milk always shined. And the familiarity of Briggs' performance, in particular, allowed Milk to continually push Briggs into a corner as a vociferous homophobe. Briggs' energy seemed to wane and he became hyperbolic in his exhaustion. Meanwhile, a life on the road emboldened Milk, spurring on his biting critiques of myth making on the part of Proposition 6 supporters. Milk also began to link the Briggs Initiative to a slippery slope that would eventually harm free expression and free speech of everyone in San Francisco\u2014regardless of their sexualities. When the votes were in, Milk had held sway. On November 7, Proposition 6 was defeated by more than a million votes, 3.9 to 2.8 million, 58-42 percent.\n\nThere is a sense in this document of the domino effect that Milk often talked about regarding the initiative. On one of the many \"debate cards\" that he carried to public meetings with Briggs, he wrote, \"If this [Prop 6] is allowed to pass it could become part of an epidemic which will spread\u2014as it did in Nazi Germany\u2014to other individuals who are minorities by virtue of their race, religion, sex, political beliefs or national origins.\" Indeed, the Bay Area Reporter and other California news outlets speculated that Briggs's witch hunts could potentially carry on if the voters moved in the direction of limiting individual freedoms.\n\nThe press release below was crafted by Milk and his speechwriter and friend, Frank Robinson. The release rearticulated the anti-Briggs arguments one last time on the morning of the referendum. This would be Milk's last public, discursive push for the defeat of Proposition 6.\n\n. . .\n\nThe initiative plays upon fears that homosexual teachers will automatically molest their students or will serve as \"Role Models\" with the result that their students will somehow become homosexual.\n\nThese assumptions are false.\n\nStatistics available from the California Highway Patrol, the Los Angeles Police Department and the San Francisco Police Department show that more than 90 percent of child molestations are committed by heterosexuals, often members of the child's family.\n\nThe belief that homosexual teachers by their mere existence will serve as \"Role Models\" and thus alter the sexual orientation of their students is also unjustified. According to psychologists, a child's sexual orientation is determined during its pre-school years and the significant \"Role Models\" are the mother and father.\n\nEvery child is born of heterosexual parents and raised in a strongly heterosexual environment. The natural inclination of children to become heterosexual is further supported by their peer group. Nevertheless, 7-10% of children become homosexual, strong heterosexual \"Role Models\" having no effect. Likewise, the occasional exposure of a heterosexual child to a homosexual teacher will have no effect.\n\nThe initiative ignores the fact that California and its various municipalities already have laws concerning the molesting of children and these laws are rigidly enforced. The initiative also ignores the fact that classroom behavior which violates good taste and judgment is subject to censure by school authorities.\n\nBesides the above, the initiative is pernicious and dangerous for the following reasons:\n\n\u2014It attempts to regulate a profession on moral grounds which have nothing to do with the profession itself. If passed, it would establish a dangerous precedent.\n\n\u2014It denies the rights of free speech to a substantial number of the State's citizens, forbidding them the right to even discuss homosexuality outside the classroom as well as in.\n\n\u2014It subjects every teacher in the state, heterosexual as well as homosexual, to blackmail. An accusation by a student that he or she overheard a teacher discussing homosexuality could lead to an automatic 30-day suspension.\n\n\u2014It raises the specter of a McCarthy-style witch-hunt in determining who may or may not be a homosexual.\n\n\u2014It allows further government intrusion into people's private lives and will cost every taxpayer money in administrative costs.\n\nThe initiative is politically inspired, designed to correct a situation that doesn't exist. It libels the entire teaching profession and limits the rights of free speech for teachers, effectively making third-class citizens of those members of a highly respected profession. For these and other reasons, the initiative has been opposed by both Governor Brown and Attorney General Younger, both Lt. Governor Dymally and Mike Curb, major newspapers such as the Los Angeles Times, the Sacramento Bee and the San Francisco Examiner, most public officials and school officials and labor leaders from all over the state.\n\nThey found this initiative repressive and against the basic principles of our democracy.\n\nWe urge you to vote NO on this initiative and reject the concept of legislation-by-myth with the intent of depriving any minority of the same rights enjoyed by the majority.\nPART FIVE\n\nHarvey's Last Words\n45\n\n\"Political Will\"\n\nTape Cassette Transcription, 18 November 1977\n\nThe final weeks between the defeat of Proposition 6 and the assassinations of Milk and Mayor George Moscone were exhilarating\u2014there was, after all, so much promise in the wake of the Briggs Initiative going down in flames and in the sweet strains of Milk's swan song that folks could be heard singing across the Castro neighborhood. Liberation seemed possible. The \"hope\" that Milk talked about so very much had at long last come to bear. However, a number of events also occurred that put a damper, and a near cessation, on the GLBTQ community's elation. For instance: the emotional unraveling of Board Supervisor Dan White; his resignation from the Board of Supervisors; his strong-armed rescinding of that resignation and appeal for reinstatement; the political jockeying and lobbying that ensued during the interim; his learning from a reporter that Moscone would not reappoint him; his armed entry of City Hall through a basement window; his execution of George Moscone; his execution of Harvey Milk; Board President Dianne Feinstein's devastating revelation to City Hall employees and reporters, \"Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk have been shot . . . and killed. Police have a suspect. Supervisor Dan White.\" Much too has been said about Milk's farsighted fatalism, his longstanding prediction that he'd die early, his preoccupation with the possibility of his assassination, and existential trembling no doubt exacerbated by proliferating death threats. Milk was, in fact, obsessed with his assassination. So much so that he wrote a political will one year before the prophecy of his demise proved true.\n\nThe document below is a partial excerpt from his political will, recorded the year before his assassination. Readers will note a prophetic rhetoric and a palpable soberness as Milk realized he would never make it to the \"promised land\" with his GLBTQ brothers and sisters despite the successes that he would achieve. Ultimately, he wanted his legacy to live on not in political success, but in the spirit of hope: \"And that's all I ask. That's all. I ask for the movement to continue.\"\n\nMilk's political will was recorded on tape in the law offices of his attorney, Walter Caplan. The opening scene in Gus Van Sant's feature film Milk depicts Milk recording the will at his kitchenette\u2014a Hollywood embellishment.\n\n. . .\n\nThis is Harvey Milk speaking on Friday, November 18. This is tape two. This is to be played only in the event of my death by assassination. I've given long and considerable thought to this, not just since the election. I've been thinking about this for some time prior to election and certainly over the years. I fully realize that a person who stands for what I stand for\u2014a gay activist\u2014becomes the target of potential target for a person who is insecure, terrified, afraid, or very disturbed themselves. Knowing that I could be assassinated at any moment or any time, I feel it's important that some people should understand my thoughts. So the following are my thoughts, my wishes, my desires, whatever. I'd like to pass them on and played for the appropriate people. The first and most obvious concern is that if I was to be shot and killed, the mayor has the power, George Moscone's, of appointing my successor to the Board of Supervisors. I know there will be great pressures on him from various factions, so I'd like to let him know what my thoughts are.\n\nI stood for more than just a candidate. I think there was a strong differential between somebody like Rick Stokes and myself. I have never considered myself a candidate. I have always considered myself part of a movement, part of a candidacy. I've considered the movement the candidate. I think there's a delineation between those who use the movement and those who are part of the movement. I think I was always part of the movement. And I think that. I wish I had time to explain almost everything I did. Almost everything that was done with an eye on the gay movement.\n\nI would suggest and urge and hope that the mayor would understand that distinction and that he would appoint somebody to my position who also came from the movement rather than used the movement or never understood the movement. I think those people who actively opposed me\u2014the Jim Fosters, Rick Stokeses, Jo Dalys, Doug de Youngs\u2014those people never understood the movement. I'm not saying they're against it. They just never understood it. They used it. Maybe willingly, maybe unwillingly, but they never understood what it was about. I think those who remained in silence\u2014the Frank Fitches, not wishing to play sides\u2014never understood the movement. That silence is sometimes worse than speaking out. I would hope that the mayor would understand that appointing somebody who actively opposed me or subtly opposed me or kept quiet, stuck their head in the sand, would be an insult to everything I stood for, would be an affront to the campaigns and the people who worked.\n\nI would hope he would give consideration, strong consideration, only to people who came from the movement. I've talked to several people and they know my thoughts, so I put them on tape so there's no doubt in anybody's mind about my thoughts. There are some people I definitely have in mind who I would like the mayor to consider.\n\nThe first person I would have is a gentleman by the name of Frank Robinson, who is quite an author in his own right. Frank even more so knows my thought processes. Not only has he read everything I've written and helped rewrite major pieces, but Frank is the one who almost daily we had conversations on various points of thinking and philosophies. So he knows my thoughts as well. He understands how I arrived at the decisions and he played devil's advocate time and time again. So if there's anyone who knows me from the depth of the intellect and emotions, it's Frank Robinson. And I think being who he is, he has that incredible ability to express himself clearly and concisely and if there were any problems, he would be able to carry on the philosophy and idea of what I stood for.\n\nIf there's some reason Frank is not the choice, the next consideration I would hope the mayor would give would be to Bob Ross. Bob has read everything I've written in the past four years and also has carried on extensive dealings with me and also has the ability to get along with a lot more people than I can, which is also going to be needed. And Bob is a strong person that will not bend and that's vital. You cannot have a weak person\u2014the Rick Stokes types, the professional lawyers. The first few gay people must be strong. That doesn't mean obstinate or uncompromising, but they must be strong.\n\nThe third choice would be Harry Britt, who most people don't know. But I've watched Harry and Harry's been involved with three campaigns. He knows where I am. I've watched Harry grow and grow and grow and become more articulate. Some people may find him wrong because he is somewhat emotional, but by God, what fabulous emotions! And he's a very, very dedicated and strong person and will not be pushed around. One that understands what the movement is and where it must go. Some day it will be there anyhow.\n\nA fourth possibility is a person who is younger, newer, and learning every day. It's the woman who put my campaign together. Anne Kronenberg, who is strong. Who understands and learns fast and thinks fast. And would add a spirit, being a gay woman, that the others cannot add. And I think that would be an outstanding choice.\n\nAnd I hope the mayor would understand that in cases like this, the tradition has been to replace a person who has been assassinated with someone who is close to the candidate in thought, rather than somebody who actively or quietly opposed the candidate. And it's important that it happens. I cannot urge the mayor strongly enough to hear what I'm saying. I think that if he did that, he would be gaining a tremendous amount of support.\n\nThe other aspect of the tapes is the obvious of what would happen should there be an assassination. I cannot prevent some people from feeling angry and frustrated and mad, but I hope they will take that frustration and that madness instead of demonstrating or anything of that type, I would hope that they would take the power and I would hope that five, ten, one hundred, a thousand would rise. I would like to see every gay lawyer, every gay architect come out, stand up and let the world know. That would do more to end prejudice overnight than anybody could imagine. I urge them to do that, urge them to come out. Only that way will we start to achieve our rights.\n\nI hope there are no religious services. I would hope there are no services of any type, but I know some people are into that and you can't prevent it from happening, but, God, nothing religious. Until the churches speak out against the Anita Bryants who have been playing gymnastics with the Bible, the churches which remain so quiet have the guts to speak out in the name of Judaism or Christianity or whatever they profess to be for in words but not actions and deeds. God\u2014and that's the irony. God\u2014churches don't even know what it's about. I would turn over in my grave if there was any kind of religious ceremony. And it's not a disbelief in God\u2014it's a disbelief and disgust of what most churches are about. How many leaders got up in their pulpits and went to Miami and said, \"Anita, you're playing gymnastics with the Bible\u2014you're desecrating the Bible.\" How many of them said it? How many of them hid and walked away? Ducked their heads in the name of Christianity and talked about love and brotherhood.\n\nNo services whatsoever. If anything, play that tape of Briggs and I, which is somewhere in the cabinet in the back\u2014the file cabinet. Just play that tape of Briggs and I over and over again so people can know what an evil man he is. So people know what our Hitler is like. So people know that where the ideas of hate come from. So they know what the future will bring if they're not careful.\n\nAnd that's all I ask. That's all. I ask for the movement to continue, for the movement to grow because last week, I got a phone call from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and my election gave somebody else, one more person, hope. And after all it's what this is all about. It's not about personal gain, not about ego, not about power\u2014it's about giving those young people out there in the Altoona, Pennsylvania's hope. You gotta give them hope.\nDocument List\n\nAs editors, our goal has been to reproduce Harvey Milk's words in their \"original\" form, transcribed directly from his typed, hand-written papers, or published speeches, letters, editorials, columns, and interviews. We have erred on the side of leaving Milk's inscriptions largely alone when it came to our copyediting, which means that in some instances the reader will encounter his idiosyncratic sentence constructions and typographical peculiarities. In doing so, we believe we faithfully have preserved his rhetorical signature and style, which of course had so much to do with his politics. Any \"translation\" errors are our own.\n\n  1. \"Interview with Harvey Milk,\" interview, Davidlee Rinker, Kalendar (San Francisco), August 17, 1973, pp. 1, 19, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 3, Series 2a.\n\n  2. Harvey Milk, \"Address to the San Francisco Chapter of the National Women's Political Caucus,\" speech, September 5, 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  3. Harvey Milk, \"Address to the Joint International Longshoremen & Warehousemen's Union of San Francisco and to the Lafayette Club,\" speech, September 30, 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  4. Harvey Milk, \"An Open Letter to the Mayor of San Francisco,\" public letter, September 22, 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  5. Harvey Milk, \"MUNI\/Parking Garage,\" press release, September 27, 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  6. Harvey Milk, \"Alfred Seniora,\" press release, September 28, 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  7. Harvey Milk, \"Who Really Represents You,\" campaign flyer, September 1973, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  8. Harvey Milk, \"Milk Note,\" column, 1 February 1974, \"Insider\" (section), Vector (Newsletter of Society for Individual Rights, San Francisco), reprinted in San Francisco Crusader, December 5, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  9. Harvey Milk, \"Anyone Can Be a Movie Critic: How Not to Find Leadership,\" editorial, San Francisco Crusader, February 1974, reprinted in San Francisco Crusader, December 5, 1978.\n\n  10. Harvey Milk, \"Open Letter to the City of San Francisco Hall of Justice on Police Brutality,\" public letter, February 14, 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  11. Harvey Milk, \"Where I Stand,\" article draft, \"Waves from the Left\" (section), Sentinel (San Francisco) March 28, 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d. Published in the Sentinel, March 28, 1974, p. 5.\n\n  12. Harvey Milk, \"Where There is No Victim, There is No Crime,\" press release, April 1, 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  13. Harvey Milk, \"Political Power\" article draft, \"Waves from the Left\" (section), Sentinel (San Francisco), May 23, 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d. Published in the Sentinel, May 23, 1974, p. 5.\n\n  14. Harvey Milk, \"Letter to the San Francisco Chronicle Concerning Anti-Gay Editorials,\" letter draft, July 1, 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  15. Harvey Milk, \"Library or Performing Arts Center?\" press release, 4 December 1974, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  16. Harvey Milk, \"Au Contraire . . . PCR Needed,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, February 6, 1975, pp. 11-12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 3, Series 2a.\n\n  17. Harvey Milk, \"Harvey Milk for Supervisor,\" campaign letter, February 26, 1975, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 3, Series 2a.\n\n  18. Harvey Milk, \"Statement of Harvey Milk, Candidate for the 16th Assembly District,\" campaign material, March 9, 1976, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 3, Series 2a.\n\n  19. Harvey Milk, \"Reactionary Beer,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, March 18, 1976, p. 12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  20. Harvey Milk, \"Nixon's Revenge\u2014The Republicans and Their Supreme Court,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, April 15, 1976, p. 12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 4, Series 2a.\n\n  21. Harvey Milk, \"My Concept as a Legislator,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, May 27, 1976, p. 22, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC43, Randy Shilts Papers, Mayor of Castro Street, Box 1.\n\n  22. Harvey Milk, \"'Uncertainty' of Carter or the 'Certainty' of Ford,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), September 2, 1976, p. 8, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78 Clippings.\n\n  23. Harvey Milk, \"A Nation Finally Talks About . . . 'It,'\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, June 9, 1977, p. 17, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  24. Harvey Milk, \"Gay Economic Power,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, September 15, 1977, p. 12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  25. Harvey Milk, \"You've Got to Have Hope,\" speech, June 24, 1977, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  26. \"Harvey Speaks Out,\" interview, George Mendenhall, Bay Area Reporter, December 8, 1977, pp. 2, 4, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  27. Harvey Milk, \"A City of Neighborhoods: First Major Address\", Parts I and II, reprinted speech, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, January 10, 1978, pp. 13-14 and February 2, 1978, p. 9, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  28. Harvey Milk, \"The Word is Out,\" public letter, February 1, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  29. Harvey Milk, \"Letter to 'Abe' on Domestic Politics,\" private letter, February 7, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  30. Harvey Milk, \"Letter to Council Members concerning Judging People by Myths,\" public letter, March 13, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  31. Harvey Milk, \"Resolution Requiring State Department to Close the South African Consulate\" and \"Closing the Consulate,\" press releases, March 22, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2a.\n\n  32. Harvey Milk, \"Letter to President Jimmy Carter,\" private letter, April 12, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 7, Series 2c.\n\n  33. Harvey Milk, Untitled (on Gay Caucus and Gay Power), column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, April 27, 1978, p. 16, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  34. Harvey Milk, \"California Gay Caucus,\" article draft, Alternate, May 12, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  35. Harvey Milk, \"Keynote Speech at Gay Conference 5,\" tape cassette transcription of speech, June 10, 1978, San Francisco Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society, Harvey Milk, Box 13. Courtesy of David Lamble.\n\n  36. Harvey Milk, \"Gay Rights,\" article draft, Coast to Coast (San Francisco), June 16, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  37. Harvey Milk, \"Gay Freedom Day Speech,\" reprinted speech, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, June 25, 1978, pp. 11-12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  38. Harvey Milk, \"To Beat Briggs,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, August 3, 1978, p. 12, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  39. Harvey Milk, \"I Have High Hopes,\" stump speech, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  40. \"Harvey Milk vs. John Briggs,\" televised debate transcription, August 6, 1978, Bay Area Television Archive at San Francisco State University, used with permission from Tom Spitz (KPIX\/KBCW)\n\n  41. Harvey Milk, \"The Positive or the Negative,\" column, \"Milk Forum\" (section), Bay Area Reporter, August 31, 1978, p. 14, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 26, 73-78, clippings.\n\n  42. Harvey Milk, \"Statement on Briggs\/Bigotry,\" public letter, September 22, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  43. Harvey Milk, \"Overall Needs of the City,\" speech, September 25, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  44. Harvey Milk and Frank Robinson, \"Ballot Argument Against Proposition 6,\" public letter, November 7, 1978, James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35, Milk-Smith Collection, Box 9, Series 2d.\n\n  45. Harvey Milk, \"Political Will,\" November 18, 1977, tape cassette transcription, San Francisco Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Historical Society, Harvey Milk, Box 13. Courtesy of Walter Caplan.\n\nEditor Biographies\n\nJASON EDWARD BLACK is Associate Professor of Rhetorical Studies and an affiliate professor in Gender & Race Studies at The University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. His research program is located at the juncture of rhetoric and social change, with an emphasis on American Indian resistance, GLBTQ community discourses, and Black liberation. His work in these areas has appeared in the Quarterly Journal of Speech, Rhetoric & Public Affairs, Southern Communication Journal, American Indian Quarterly, American Indian Culture and Research Journal, Communication Quarterly, and elsewhere. Professor Black is the coeditor of Arguments about Animal Ethics (Lexington Books, 2010). He has received the Wrage-Baskerville Award from the National Communication Association and the Rushing Early Career Award and the Owen Peterson Award in Rhetoric and Public Address from the Southern States Communication Association.\n\nCHARLES E. MORRIS III is Professor of Communication & Rhetorical Studies and LGBT Studies at Syracuse University. He is the cofounding editor of QED: A Journal in GLBTQ Worldmaking (Michigan State University Press). His books include Remembering the AIDS Quilt (Michigan State University Press, 2011), Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American Historical Discourse (University of South Carolina Press, 2007), and Readings on the Rhetoric of Social Protest (Strata Publishing, 2001, 2006, 2013), and his essays have appeared in the Quarterly Journal of Speech, Communication and Critical\/Cultural Studies, Rhetoric & Public Affairs, and elsewhere. For his work as an archival queer, Professor Morris has received two Golden Monograph Awards, the Karl Wallace Memorial Award, and the Randy Majors Memorial Award from the National Communication Association.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}