Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it....

The phrase crept through the back thoughts of Charles Stonewall Delacroix, Gambler, as he watched the modern merrymaking folkies swarm to the groaning board laid out for them.

He thought back on how time had unfolded itself to this delightful confluence. A time long ago stirred within him, and a century raced into view in his mind's eye. He let the memories of the past unfold -- his early days on the river, followed lightly in the stream of mental images by recollections of his disappearance, his amazing encounters across time and space, and how it happened that folk music was saved from tyranny in that long ago place and time.

He watched the fruit of his labors, as a young woman wearing a hand-made mandolin struck up a fine duet with a shaggy lad playing a Taylor with some skill, and harmonizing sweetly to Lorena.

It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in the eternal past;
Our hearts will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future, oh, thank God!
Of life this is so small a part---
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod.
But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.

His eyes moistened, and he drew himself together, remembering the new risks which made it necessary for him to be here, watching, seeing everything.

Innocence, he thought. They have no idea of the risks they take and the dangers into which they are standing even as they sing.

Through the trees, he again caught sight of the form of Robert E. Leej strolling toward one of the distant amusement rides, and thought again of the mysterious parchment, with its fine red and black lines, that Leej had shown the tavern mistress. He hastened crosslots in back of some shrubs and disappeared behind the banyans in hasty pursuit.