The carriage pulled up to the house, but the men inside made no move to exit. The rain on the roof sounded like the rapid gunfire of a pitched battle.

"The assassination went as planned. I don't understand what you're so uptight about, Clint."

"The transport device should have returned by now," Clint replied. He sat staring into the rainy night for a moment and then continued, "Glen, do you think there's something we've left undone?"

"Could be," Glen responded. "But it beats me what it is. Lincoln's dead, everyone's blaming that Booth fellow, and no one could possibly suspect us. That's the worst thing about this job. Once we're in the time and on location, everything else is left up to our own devices."

"The orders said remove Lincoln from power and guarantee the destabilization of the United States government," said Clint. "Perhaps something further is required to destabilize the government."

"I don't think so. With that buffoon Johnson in office, everything should start downhill pretty fast," said Glen.

"Yes, but what if Johnson isn't in office long enough to mess up everything. If someone takes a shot and kills him too, or they impeach him, then what does that mean to us? The transport vehicle might never come. We've got to be proactive!" Clint said. After a moment, he continued, "Also, there's a lot of talk about General Grant running for president."

"He could have a reassuring and calming influence on the citizens, but surely you don't think . . ." Glen paused.

"That has to be it!" Clint exclaimed. "Johnson will serve out Lincoln's term, and begin the destabilization. We must make sure that there is no hero waiting to step in and bring everything back together."

"That's quite a leap of logic. How do we even know that Ulysses S. Grant would be elected, and if he were elected, that he would become a unifying figure? The southerners have an understandable and definite dislike for him."

"True, but with Reconstruction going strong, the south will be kept well in hand for a while, I think. Besides, his mere presence should bring the people together for a while."

Glen pondered for a few minutes. "I say we do it. Obviously, we're intended to do something further, and it can't hurt anything, can it?"

"I agree," said Clint. "We should start making plans immediately."

The rain had slacked a bit and so they both got out of the carriage and trotted to the door of the house.

The house was the property of Clint's cousin Samuel. Clint and Glen were staying there while Samuel was away on business in New York. At least that was the story that Clint and Glen had told locally. The truth was that Samuel lay in a shallow grave about two hundred yards behind the house. With no relatives living close by, Samuel had been the perfect victim.

"Do you think the Leaders ever get tired of playing around in the affairs of other creatures?" Clint asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems kind of pointless to try and topple an alien government just to see if you can."

"Yea, but that's why they are the Leaders and we're just the Hands. I think it just gives them a sense of power. It's sort of like playing God. They tinker around with one inferior race for a while, they get bored with that, and they move on to another. That's my opinion, anyway."

"I guess you're right. It keeps us employed."

Two weeks later, they had determined the location of Ulysses Grant. For several days, they observed his movements and his habits.

"He's just going for a ride through the countryside, Clint. This is a perfect opportunity. If he's like most people, he'll return by the same route that he left. We'll wait and ambush him."

They found a good hiding spot, with an excellent view of the path they expected to see Grant follow, and waited.

Over an hour later, they heard singing.

"What's that?" asked Glen.

"It sounds like he's singing," replied Clint. "The General's drunk! This'll be easier than we thought."

"His singing is getting louder. He must be very close now. Let's get ready."

The two aliens drew their weapons and awaited the appearance of General Grant. Shortly, they heard a grunt and the singing stopped.

"What happened?" Cliff asked.

"I think he must've fallen off his horse," responded Glen. "Let's move in and get him now!"

The two aliens stood up and started down the path where they expected to find Grant. After taking only a couple of steps, they heard a voice behind them.

"What're you boys doing hiding here in the brush?" General Ulysses S. Grant asked.

The aliens turned and saw the General with his weapon drawn.

"You boys have been slinking around for days now. Did you think you were going to pull a quick one on me?"

The aliens did not say anything. Instead, they dove to the ground in opposite directions.

Grant had obviously expected something like that and he kept his focus on the one called Glen. Glen had raised his weapon as he dove, but the General shot him before he could fire.

Immediately, General Grant ducked behind a small boulder and turned his weapon on the alien called Clint.

Clint's dive had not been as graceful. He was just now lifting his weapon and trying to locate General Grant. He never had the chance.

Clint and Glen had appeared very human and natural in life, but death revealed their true nature. They looked grotesque and bird-like to Grant.

He knew that he was very drunk. He must be so drunk that he was hallucinating. Ulysses S. Grant got back on his horse, rode home and never told anyone about killing two giant birds that had tried to shoot him from ambush.