ame purpose. And it was self-powered, too; it was
independent of outside power-supply.

"I'd like to talk to your people about this," said Soames grimly. "I do
think things can be transposed in space, and this should work that way
as well as in time. But starting at one end has me stymied."

He abandoned the pup-tent and equipment.

"Either we won't need them," he said, "or we won't be able to use them."

The battered, ancient motorcycle took them into the night. Soames had
studied road-maps and he and Fran had discussed in detail the route to
Navajo Dam--using stilts to cross electrified fences--from the hidden
missile base. Soames was sure that with Fran's help he could find the
pseudo-village where Gail and the children remained. It would call for a
helicopter. But before that there was a highly necessary operation which
would also go best with a helicopter to help. So when they left that
pup-tent camp they headed toward a very minor, local airfield where
Soames had once landed. It had hangars for half a dozen cheap private
planes and for two helicopters used mostly for crop-dusting.

* * * * *

At the airfield Soames laid the motorcycle beside the edge of the clear
area, and left Fran with it, to wait. He moved quietly through the
darkness toward close-up buildings with no lights anywhere except in
one room reserved for a watchman.

Fran waited, breathing fast. He heard night-insects and nothing else. It
seemed a horribly long time--before he heard the grinding noise of a
motor being cranked. It caught immediately. There was a terrific roaring
tumult inside a building. The large door of a hangar tilted and went
upward, and a door opened from the watchman's lighted room and he came
shouting outside.

The roaring of motors changed. The door of the hangar was quite open. A
bellowing thing came moving out, whirling huge black vanes against the
sky. It boomed more loudly still, and lifted, and then drifted with
seeming clumsiness across the level airfield while the night watchman
shouted after it.

* * * * *

Fran turned on the motorcycle headlight as he'd been told, and picked up
the apparatus Soames had made to use strobe-light packs in. The 'copter
swept toward him, six feet above-ground. It came down and Fran swarmed
up into its cabin. Then the motors really thundered and the 'copter
climbed for the sky.

Soames drove without lights and headed