Day of Truce Clifford D. Simak 1 THE evening was quiet. There was no sign of the Punks. Silence lay heavily across the barren and eroded acres of the subdivision and there was nothing moving - not even one of the roving and always troublesome dog packs. It was too quiet Max Hale decided. There should have been some motion and some noise. It was as if everyone had taken cover against some known and coming violence - another raid perhaps. Although there was only one place against which a raid could possibly be aimed. Why should others care Max wondered why should they cower indoors when they had long since surrendered Max stood upon the flat lookout-rooftop of the Crawford stronghold and watched the streets to north and west. It was by one of these that Mr. Crawford would be coming home. No one could guess which one for he seldom used the same road. It was the only way one could cut down the likelihood of ambush or of barricade. Although ambush was less frequent now. There were fewer fences fewer trees and shrubs there was almost nothing behind which one could hide. In this barren area it called for real ingenuity to effect an ambuscade. But Max reminded himself no one had ever charged the Punks with lack of ingenuity. Mr. Crawford had phoned that he would be late and Max was getting nervous. In another quarter hour darkness would be closing in. It was bad business to be abroad in Oak Manor after dark had fallen. Or for that matter in any of the subdivisions