their while to start doing something to stop it!"

* * * * *

The trip out through the conduit was not so difficult, even with the
encumbrance of the unconscious Chester Pelton, but Prestonby was
convinced that, except for the giant strength of Doug Yetsko, it would
have been nearly impossible. Ray Pelton, recovered from his
after-battle nausea and steeled by responsibility, went first. Cardon
crawled after him, followed by a couple of the boys. Then came Yetsko,
dragging the sleeping bag in which Chester Pelton was packed like a
mummy. Prestonby himself followed, pushing on his future
father-in-law's feet, and Claire crawled behind, with the rest of
Ray's schoolmates for a rearguard.

They got past the battle which was still going on at the entrance to
the store basement, letting Pelton down with a rope and carrying him
onto the outward-bound belt. They left it in time to assemble under
the ladder leading to the alley through which Ray said they had
entered, and hauled Pelton up after them. Then, when they were all out
in the open again, Ray ran up the alley and mounted a fire escape,
and, in a few minutes, a big 'copter truck which had been parked on
the roof let down to them. Into this, Cardon ordered the unconscious
senatorial candidate loaded, and the boys who had come with Ray.

"I'll take him home, and then run the boys to the school," he told
Prestonby. "You and Ray and Claire get in this other 'copter and go
straight to Literates' Hall." He pointed up to the passenger vehicle
which was hovering above, waiting for the truck to leave. "Go in the
church way, and go straight to Lancedale's office. And here." He
scribbled an address and a phone number and a couple of names. "These
men have my 'copter at this address. Call them as soon as you get to
Literates' Hall and have them take it at once to Pelton's home, on
Long Island."

Prestonby nodded and watched Cardon climb into the truck. The
Literates' guard who was driving lifted it up and began windmilling
away toward the east. The passenger 'copter, driven by another guard
from the school, settled down. Putting Ray and Claire into it, he
climbed in after them.

"Ray," he said, "how would you like to be a real white-smock
Literate?"

Ray's eyes opened. "You think I'm good enough?"

"Good enough to be a novice, to start with. And I don't think you'll
stay a novice long."

Claire looked at him inquiringly, saying nothing.