point. The treadmarks are bizarre and unlike anything I've ever seen."
I peered over his shoulder at the footprint. There was no doubt that it was large; I could have put both of my feet in it. The treadmarks looked ordinary, but I was hardly an expert in that field. "Dr. Sageman," I said, "I'm Arly Hanks, the -- "
"Brian, is the plaster beginning to set? There are rain clouds approaching, and it is vital to preserve the evidence for further study. Cynthia, do you have an adequate number of photographs of all pertinent manifestations?"
"The chief of police, Dr. Sageman," I continued with only the faintest exasperation in my voice. "The town council promised that all the evidence discovered within the city limits belongs to me. Most of the time it's dog poop or broken glass, but it's still mine and mine alone. Furthermore -- "
He glanced up, clearly annoyed at my persistence. "Yes, but you have no experience in what well may become classified as a close encounter of the second kind. That's defined as detailed observation without actual contact. You're not equipped to deal with an extraterrestrial biological entity, are you?"
I wanted to tell him that all the years spent with the Buchanon clan had equipped me to deal with the whole gamut of biological entities, but the crowd was straining against the tape, and the television camera was aimed in our direction. Grumbling, I stepped aside and waited until Brian made a plaster cast of the footprint. "Okay, Dr, Sageman," I said, trying once again to be civil, "the evidence is preserved. If you don't mind, I'd like to -- "
He stood up and spoke to the whirring camera. "I believe that we have categorical proof of alien interaction in this location. The list of witnesses to last night's encounter continues to grow as we conduct individual interviews. Within a matter of hours I shall be in a position to make a statement as to the validity of the incident."
"We'll have an update at six and again at ten," said the reporter. "And cut. Can we count on you to come to the studio tomorrow afternoon, Dr. Sageman? I'd like to do indepth interviews with you and Dr. McMasterson, say, three minutes each, and then allow the two of you to exchange opinions regarding the possibility that an alien was at this spot last night."
Sageman pointed a trembling finger at McMasterson. "Under no circumstances will I participate in an exchange with this euhemeristic pseudo-intellectual who relies on psychosociological gibberish to discredit those of us -- "
McMasterson bristled to the tip of his ponytail. "No more than I would deign to appear on any show with this pontificating, underhanded, dishonorable -- "
"How dare you!" roared Sageman as he flung himself across the gravel bar and began to choke the living daylights out of McMasterson. The victim responded with kidney punches and a string of expletives unfamiliar to most of his audience. They careened around the gravel bar in a grotesque dance, annihilating the footprint as well as any reservations I had concerning their sanity.
It took awhile, but eventually Brian, the cameraman, and I pulled the combatants apart.
I stepped between them. "Listen up, I don't care if you two decide to meet at dawn with pistols, but you are not going to pull this shit while you're on my turf. You don't have to kiss and make up or even shake hands. However, I can run you into the county jail for disorderly conduct, and you'll find yourselves in a lot less cultivated company until the judge shows up Monday morning. Do we all understand?"
Sageman and McMasterson stalked away in opposite directions. The reporter and cameraman left, as did the majority of the crowd. Once I'd decided the two men were under control for the time being, I went over to Jules Channel, who was sitting on a log with his notebook on his knee and a distinctly amused expression on his face. If I hadn't been such a trusting soul, I might have wondered if he'd enjoyed the fracas.
I sat down beside