ll get
this instantly on their recordographs and location finders. They'll
blast the whole valley and the country for miles beyond. Come, Tony.
There's no time for the gang to rally. See the signals. We've got to
jump. Oh, I'm so proud of you!"

Over the ridge we went, in long leaps toward the east, the country of
the Delawares.

From time to time signal rockets puffed in the sky. Most of them were
the "red warnings," the "scatter" signals. But from certain of the
others, which Wilma identified as Wyoming rockets, she gathered that
whoever was in command (we did not know whether the Boss was alive or
not) was ordering an ultimate rally toward the south, and so we changed
our course.

It was a great pity, I thought, that the clan had not been equipped
throughout its membership with ultrophones, but Wilma explained to me,
that not enough of these had been built for distribution as yet,
although general distribution had been contemplated within a couple of
months.

We traveled far before nightfall overtook us, trying only to put as much
distance as possible between ourselves and the valley.

When gathering dusk made jumping too dangerous, we sought a comfortable
spot beneath the trees, and consumed part of our emergency rations. It
was the first time I had tasted the stuff--a highly nutritive synthetic
substance called "concentro," which was, however, a bit bitter and
unpalatable. But as only a mouthful or so was needed, it did not matter.

Neither of us had a cloak, but we were both thoroughly tired and happy,
so we curled up together for warmth. I remember Wilma making some sleepy
remark about our mating, as she cuddled up, as though the matter were
all settled, and my surprise at my own instant acceptance of the idea,
for I had not consciously thought of her that way before. But we both
fell asleep at once.

In the morning we found little time for love making. The practical
problem facing us was too great. Wilma felt that the Wyoming plan must
be to rally in the Susquanna territory, but she had her doubts about the
wisdom of this plan. In my elation at my success in bringing down the
Han ship, and my newly found interest in my charming companion, who was,
from my viewpoint of another century, at once more highly civilized and
yet more primitive than myself, I had forgotten the ominous fact that
the Han ship I had destroyed must have known the exact location of the
Wyoming Works.

This meant, to Wilma's logica