and let the caboose catch up
with him. But--he could detour across the circle and land farther back
on the train! And that, my dear Dave, is what you and I and Major have
done--almost."

"Almost?" Miller said hoarsely.

Erickson pursed his lips. "We are somewhere partway across the space
between present and past. We are living in an instant that can move
neither forward nor back. You and I, Dave, and Major--and the Lord knows
how many others the world over--have been thrust by my time impulsor
onto a timeless beach of eternity. We have been caught in time's
backwash. Castaways, you might say."

An objection clamored for attention in Miller's mind.

"But if this is so, where are the rest of them? Where is my wife?"

"They are right here," Erickson explained. "No doubt you could see your
wife if you could find her. But we see them as statues, because, for us,
time no longer exists. But there was something I did not count on. I did
not know that it would be possible to live in one small instant of time,
as we are doing. And I did not know that only those who are hovering
between life and death can deviate from the normal process of time!"

"You mean--we're dead!" Miller's voice was a bitter monotone.

"Obviously not. We're talking and moving, aren't we? But--we are on the
fence. When I gave my impulsor the jolt of high power, it went wrong and
I think something must have happened to me. At the same instant, you had
shot yourself.

"Perhaps, Dave, you are dying. The only way for us to find out is to try
to get the machine working and topple ourselves one way or the other. If
we fall back, we will all live. If we fall into the present--we may
die."

"Either way, it's better than this!" Miller said fervently.

"I came to the library here, hoping to find out the things I must know.
My own books are locked in my study. And these--they might be cemented
in their places, for all their use to me. I suppose we might as well go
back to the lab."

Miller nodded, murmuring: "Maybe you'll get an idea when you look at the
machine again."

"Let's hope so," said Erickson grimly. "God knows I've failed so far!"

CHAPTER III

_Splendid Sacrifice_

It was a solid hour's walk out to West Wilshire, where the laboratory
was. The immense bronze and glass doors of Wanamaker Institute were
closed, and so barred to the two men. But Erickson led the way down the
side.

"We can get in a service door. Then we climb throug