d it gum
side up, and cautiously pressed the little man against it feet first.
With the thought, "That ought to hold him," I dashed upstairs to answer
the call._

_But it didn't hold him. There was quite a bit of strength in that tiny
body._

"Miserable fate! I flounder in a horrid marsh," the upset thought-waves
came to the men of Mortia. "The viscous mire seeks to entrap me, but I
think I can escape it. Then I will make for the Temple. The Gods may
recognize and protect me there."

* * * * *

I missed the call--I had delayed too long--but the momentary diversion
had cleared my mind and allowed new thoughts to enter. I now knew what
my first step would be in presenting the little man to the world.

I'd write a newspaper account myself--exclusive! Give the scoop to Earl.
Would that be a sensation for _his_ paper! Then I'd be made. A friend of
the family, this prominent publisher had often promised he would give me
a break when I was ready. Well, I _was_ ready!

Excited, dashing downstairs, I half-formulated the idea. The
headlines--the little man under a microscope--a world afire to see him.
Fame ... pictures ... speeches ... movies ... money.... But here I was
at my desk, and I grabbed for a piece of typing paper. They'd put that
in a museum, too!

The stamp and the little man lay just at the edge of the sheet, and he
clutched at a "great orange mountain" covered by a "vast slab of
curving, opaque glass" like the "Temples of Aerat." It was my thumb, but
I did not see him there.

_I thrust the paper into the typewriter and twirled it through._

"I have fallen from the mountain, and hang perpendicularly, perilously,
on a limitless white plain. I tremble, on the verge of falling, but the
slime from the marsh holds me fast."

_I struck the first key._

"A metal meteor is roaring down upon me. Or is it something I have never
before witnessed? It has a tail that streams off beyond sight. It comes
at terrific speed.

"I know. The Gods are angry with me for leaving Mortia land. Yes! 'Tis
only They who kill by iron. Their hands clutch the rod in mighty tower
Baviat, and thrust it here to stamp me out."

And a shaking little figure cried: "Baviat tertia!... Mortia mea...." as
the Gods struck wrathfully at a small one daring to explore their
domain. For little man Jeko had contrived to see Infinity--and Infinity
was only for the eyes of the Immortals, and those of the Experience who