The stranger was rustling up breakfast on his hill-top site as the sun rose. Bannock was highly interested, because the frying pan smelled like bacon. Argent whipped up some eggs in a cup and scrambled them in. When they reached the right texture, he dished them out onto two paper plates. He picked up one of the bacons trips drying on paper towels and sprinkled it in crumbs over one of the plates and slid it over to the dog. Bannock ate in an ecstatic trance, while the stranger sipped black coffee from a huge tin mug and ate his portion, a bit more neatly. He had just leaned back in satisfaction, his plate scraped clean, and lit a small cheroot, when his morning sunlight was interrupted by a shadow. He opened his eyes and squinted up at the towering figure of Man-Mountain Dundee, garbed in tattered blue coveralls and looking quite unkempt. His chinhairs sprouted wildly in all directions. His head aire, only slightly less abundant, did also. His armpits sought in vain to match the abandon of his chin and head.

"Mister Dundee, I presume," Argent said in a cautiously friendly tone. "To what do I owe the honor.".

"I found something I think might be important." Dundee replied simply. "SOmehow I get the idea youse should have it."

A giant paw came swinging toward Argent like an Airbus. It held a small rectangular slab of stone. About four inches wide and two thick, maybe six inches long, Argent thought, as he reached out to accept the offer.

"What is it?", Argent asked.

"I dunno. I get...you know... impressions, like. Like voices, only in pictures. I get 'em whether I want 'em or not. When I found this thing in a cave over there it felt, I dunno...important like. And I got the impression you'd know what to do wid it. 'S all I know, okay?"

"OK. Thanks for thinking of me." The man-mountain turned and lumbered down toward the edge of the woods, ignoring him.

He looked at the slab. It weighed about two pounds, he thought. The back was a greenish dark glaze, or polished by wear, with a quiet glistening backlilght to it. Jade? He couldn't quite place it.

He turned it over, and nearly dropped it. He leaned over and traced the hieroglyphic figures with his finger. Three hours later, he was still there, his brow wrinkled in thought, the coffee mug empty, lightly tracing the intricate inscriptions.