The knots in Luke's stomach, so recently loosened, tightened again on his uncle's arrival. He did not understand why Uncle Owen was angry, and he did not like it, though he was sure Aunt Beru would soon straighten everything out. Meantime, he did not want the wizard to leave.

He pounded up the stairs as fast as his short legs would carry him and stood, panting in the night air, at the entrance to the house. The robed figure stood still perhaps ten paces away. He'd probably heard Luke coming.

"Mister Kenobi," called Luke.

The wizard turned slowly and looked Luke in the eye.

"Don't go," Luke pleaded.

Mister Kenobi knelt in the sand before him. "You heard your uncle, Luke," he said. "It's best I go home."

"He said you couldn't come in the house," Luke replied stubbornly. "You're not in the house. Please stay?"

He thought he saw a small smile slip across the wizard's face before he answered.

"All right," he said, glancing at the doorway behind Luke as if to make sure that Uncle Owen was not following him, "for a little while, if you will sit with me. One last time."

The sentence ended in a whisper. Luke was not sure what the wizard meant by it, but he was satisfied. They took up cross-legged positions side by side and stared at the stars. Luke pointed out constellation after constellation to Mister Kenobi, who seemed impressed. Luke did not see why. To him, the constellations were intimate friends. At last, though, he gathered the courage to say what he'd been meaning to say all along.

"I'm glad you moved to the Jundland Wastes."

The wizard looked surprised. "Who told you I moved?" he asked.

"Uncle Owen," said Luke with confidence. "He says you used to live in Anchorhead."

"So I did, for a time," said the wizard softly. "I thought it would be – convenient – to live in town."

"Then why did you move?" asked Luke.

"The townspeople did not find it so convenient," said the wizard wryly.

"Why not?" Luke persisted.

"Ah, Luke," he said, and was silent for several minutes, staring into the folds of his robe as though trying to pick out the individual grains of sand caught in them. When he looked up again, he reminded Luke of Uncle Owen about to tell a story.

"A long time ago," said the wizard, "just after you were born, I was renting an apartment in Anchorhead. It happened one day that a party of sand people came to attack the outskirts of the town. I was with the men who gathered to resist them, and I frightened them away before anyone could be hurt."

"How?" Luke asked in astonishment.

"I can do a fair imitation of a krayt dragon," said the wizard. "They ran away soon as they heard it, and we thought all was well. But they were soon back, and in greater numbers. They would not be frightened away the second time. We were no match for them. They fought until they had all the goods they wanted. Many men died that day."

The wizard paused, and looked into the sky as though it were less painful that way.

"The townspeople that survived were very frightened and upset," he said. "They wanted someone to blame. Eventually one of them said that if I had not frightened the Tuskens off to begin with, the damage would not have been so great. Others agreed with him. They made it clear that I was no longer welcome there."

The wizard looked down at Luke again.

"Your uncle was there that day, helping to defend the town," he said. "He was angry and frightened, as all the people were, and has a special dislike for Tuskens. He thinks I bring trouble with me. That's why he doesn't want me in your home. And perhaps he is right."

"But it isn't true," cried Luke, unable to contain himself. "You didn't bring trouble. You're a good wizard. You frighten off sand people, and get rid of robbers, and heal sick people. You do things that ordinary people can't do."

After his outburst, Luke saw that the wizard was giving him one of his odd looks, seeing past Luke's eyes right inside of him.

"I could teach you, Luke," he said slowly. "You could learn to do things like that."

Luke's heart leaped up in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"No, he won't," said Uncle Owen, crossing the sand to where they sat. "And you won't be putting any more ideas of that kind into his head, Kenobi."

"But Uncle Owen—" protested Luke.

"No buts." Owen knelt until he could look Luke in the eye and rested a firm hand on his shoulder. "The things Mister Kenobi wants you to learn are dangerous, Luke. I'll tell you what you can do, though. You can come with me to buy another speeder, so you and your aunt never get stranded again. And I'll teach you to pilot it."

Luke had been set to be stubborn and sullen, but he felt his eyes grow wide at the mention of flying. "Really?" he whispered.

"Really." Uncle Owen pulled Luke to his feet and gave his shoulder a pat. "Run inside now. It's late, and your aunt is asking for you. I'm going to have a talk with Mister Kenobi."

Luke turned back to see the wizard rising from the ground.

Go on, he thought he heard the wizard say, though his lips did not move.

Luke turned to the house and ran into the welcoming light.