the only way they could have trailed me
down the river." He was finding it difficult to talk, and the protesting
medic kept waving a needle in his direction, but somehow in bursts of
half-finished sentences Ross got out his story--Foscar's death, his own
escape from the chief's funeral pyre, and the weird duel of wills back
on the beach. Even as he poured it out he thought how unlikely most of
it must sound. Yet Kelgarries appeared to accept every word, and there
was no expression of disbelief on Ashe's face.

"So that's how you got those burns," said the major slowly when Ross had
finished his story. "Deliberately searing your hand in the fire to break
their hold--" He crashed his fist against the wall of the tiny cabin and
then, when Ross winced at the jar, he hurriedly uncurled those fingers
to press Ross's shoulder with a surprisingly warm and gentle touch. "Put
him to sleep," he ordered the medic. "He deserves about a month of it,
I should judge. I think he has brought us a bigger slice of the future
than we had hoped for...."

Ross felt the prick of the needle and then nothing more. Even when he
was carried ashore at the post and later when he was transported into
his proper time, he did not awaken. He only approached a strange dreamy
state in which he ate and drowsed, not caring for the world beyond his
own bunk.

But there came a day when he did care, sitting up to demand food with a
great deal of his old self-assertion. The doctor looked him over,
permitting him to get out of bed and try out his legs. They were
exceedingly uncooperative at first, and Ross was glad he had tried to
move only from his bunk to a waiting chair.

"Visitors welcome?"

Ross looked up eagerly and then smiled, somewhat hesitatingly, at Ashe.
The older man wore his arm in a sling but otherwise seemed his usual
imperturbable self.

"Ashe, tell me what happened. Are we back at the main base? What about
the Reds? We weren't traced by the ship people, were we?"

Ashe laughed. "Did Doc just wind you up to let you spin, Ross? Yes, this
is home, sweet home. As for the rest--well, it is a long story, and we
are still picking up pieces of it here and there."

Ross pointed to the bunk in invitation. "Can you tell me what is known?"
He was still somewhat at a loss, his old secret awe of Ashe tempering
his outward show of eagerness. Ross still feared one of those snubs the
other so well knew how to deliver to the bumptious. But Ashe did com