straps that had bound the bobcat's
feet, and the ax, now splotched with blood and tawny cat-hairs, into
the dome. Then he closed the secret room, and took a long drink from
the bottle on his hip.

The job was done. He would take a hot bath, and sleep in the farmhouse
till noon, and then he would return to the First Level. Maybe Tortha
Karf would want him to come back here for a while. The situation on this
time-line was far from satisfactory, even if the crisis threatened by
Gavran Sarn's renegade pet had been averted. The presence of a chief's
assistant might be desirable.

At least, he had a right to expect a short vacation. He thought of the
little redhead at the Hagraban Synthetics Works. What was her name?
Something Kara--Morvan Kara; that was it. She'd be coming off shift
about the time he'd make First Level, tomorrow afternoon.

The claw-wounds were still smarting vexatiously. A hot bath, and a
night's sleep--He took another drink, lit his pipe, picked up his rifle
and started across the yard to the house.

* * * * *

Private Zinkowski cradled the telephone and got up from the desk,
stretching. He left the orderly-room and walked across the hall to
the recreation room, where the rest of the boys were loafing.
Sergeant Haines, in a languid gin-rummy game with Corporal Conner,
a sheriff's deputy, and a mechanic from the service station down
the road, looked up.

"Well, Sarge, I think we can write off those stock-killings," the
private said.

"Yeah?" The sergeant's interest quickened.

"Yeah. I think the whatzit's had it. I just got a buzz from the
railroad cops at Logansport. It seems a track-walker found a dead
bobcat on the Logan River branch, about a mile or so below MMY signal
tower. Looks like it tangled with that night freight up-river, and
came off second best. It was near chopped to hamburger."

"MMY signal tower; that's right below Yoder's Crossing," the sergeant
considered. "The Strawmyer farm night-before-last, the Amrine farm
last night--Yeah, that would be about right."

"That'll suit Steve Parker; bobcats aren't protected, so it's not his
trouble. And they're not a violation of state law, so it's none of our
worry," Conner said. "Your deal, isn't it, Sarge?"

"Yeah. Wait a minute." The sergeant got to his feet. "I promised Sam
Kane, the AP man at Logansport, that I'd let him in on anything new."
He got up and started for the phone. "Phantom Killer!" He blew