rbee felt it impossible to go off without some other emergency
equipment.

After an hour, Sam said, "He's close. Just around the next bend. That's
where his car went off."

Baker loomed suddenly in the lights of the car. He was standing at the
edge of the road. He waved an arm wearily.

Fenwick would not have recognized him. And for some seconds after the
car had come to a halt, and Baker stood weaving uncertainly in the beam
of the lights, Fenwick was not sure it was Baker at all.

He looked like something out of an old Frankenstein movie. His clothes
were ripped almost completely away. Those remaining were stained with
blood and red clay, and soaked with rain. Baker's face was laced with a
network of scars as if he had been slashed with a shower of glass not
too long ago and the wounds were freshly healed. Blood was caked and
cracked on his face and was matted in his hair.

[Illustration]

He smiled grotesquely as he staggered toward the car door. "About time
you got here," he said. "A man could catch his death of cold standing
out here in this weather."

* * * * *

Dr. William Baker was quite sure he had no need of hospitalization, but
he let them settle him in a hospital bed anyway. He had some thinking to
do, and he didn't know of a better place to get it done.

There was a good deal of medical speculation about the vast network of
very fresh scars on his body, the bones which X rays showed to have been
only very recently knit, and the violent internal injuries which gave
some evidence of their recent healing. Baker allowed the speculation to
go on without offering explanations. He let them tap and measure and
apply electrical gadgets to their heart's content. It didn't bother the
thinking he had to get done.

Fenwick and Ellerbee came back the next day to see him. The two
approached the bed so warily that Baker burst out laughing. "Pull up
chairs!" he exclaimed. "Just because you saw me looking a shade less
than dead doesn't mean I'm a ghost now. Sit down. And where's Sam? Not
that I don't appreciate seeing your ugly faces, but Sam and I have got
some things to talk about."

Ellerbee and Fenwick looked at each other as if each expected the other
to speak.

"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Baker. "Nothing's happened to Sam, I
hope!"

Fenwick spoke finally. "We don't know where Sam is. We don't think we'll
be seeing him again."

"Why not?" Baker demanded. But in t