hat belief had been
washed away in the river along with most of the will power which had
kept him going these past days. Before, there had always been some goal,
no matter how remote. Now, he had nothing. Even if he managed to reach
the mouth of the river, he had no idea of where or how to summon the sub
from the overseas post. All three of the time travelers might already
have been written off the rolls, since they had not reported in.

Ross pulled the rag free from the sapling and wreathed it in a tight
bracelet about his grimed wrist for some unexplainable reason. Worn and
tired, he tried to think ahead. There was no chance of again contacting
Ulffa's tribe. Along with all the other woodland hunters they must have
fled before the advance of the horsemen. No, there was no reason to go
back, and why make the effort to advance?

The sun was hot. This was one of those spring days which foretell the
ripeness of summer. Insects buzzed in the reed banks where a green sheen
showed. Birds wheeled and circled in the sky, some flock disturbed,
their cries reaching Ross in hoarse calls of warning.

He was still plastered with patches of dried mud and slime, the reek of
it thick in his nostrils. Now Ross brushed at a splotch on his knee,
picking loose flakes to expose the alien cloth of his suit underneath,
seemingly unbefouled. All at once it became necessary to be clean again
at least.

Ross waded into the stream, stooping to splash the brown water over his
body and then rubbing away the resulting mud. In the sunlight the fabric
had a brilliant glow, as if it not only drew the light but reflected it.
Wading farther out into the water, he began to swim, not with any goal
in view, but because it was easier than crawling back to land once more.

Using the downstream current to supplement his skill, he watched both
banks. He could not really hope to see either the raft or indications
that its passengers had won to shore, but somewhere deep inside him he
had not yet accepted the probable.

The effort of swimming broke through that fog of inertia which had held
him since he had awakened that morning. It was with a somewhat healthier
interest in life that Ross came ashore again on an arm of what was a bay
or inlet angling back into the land. Here the banks of the river were
well above his head, and believing that he was well sheltered, he
stripped, hanging his suit in the sunlight and letting the unusual heat
of the day soothe h