as afraid as they were. He knew that. But he wasn't fighting the
thought that perhaps they had really traveled out of their own time.
He wondered what it was that made him different from the other old
ones, the ones like Carhill who refused even to face the possibility,
who insisted on clinging to their illusions in the face of the
photographic evidence.

* * * * *

He didn't think that he was a pessimist. And yet, after only three
years of their trip, after only fifty Earthlike but lifeless worlds,
he had been the first to consider the possibility that life was unique
to Earth and that their old theories concerning its spontaneous
emergence from a favorable environment might be wrong.

Only Nora had agreed with him then. Only Nora could face this
possibility with him now. The two of them were very much alike in
their outlooks. They were both pragmatists.

But this time there would be no long years during which the others
could slowly shift their opinions, slowly relinquish their old beliefs
and turn to new ones. The yellow sun was too large and urgent in the
screen.

"Hugh!"

He turned to the door and saw Amos Carhill standing there, bracing
himself against the corridor wall. There was no color at all in
Carhill's face.

"Come on up to the control room with me, Hugh. We're going to start
decelerating any minute now."

Hugh frowned. He would prefer to stay and watch their approach on the
screen, with Nora at his side. He had no duties in the control room.
He was too old to have any part in the actual handling of the ship.
Amos was old, too. But they would be there, all the old ones, looking
through the high powered screens for the first clear glimpse of the
third planet from the sun.

"All right, Amos." Hugh got up and started for the door.

"I'll wait here for you, Hugh," Nora said.

He smiled at her and then followed Carhill out into the crowded
corridor. No one spoke to them. Most of the people they passed were
neither talking, nor paying any attention to anything except the
corridor screens, which they could no longer ignore. The few who were
talking spoke about Earth and how wonderful it would be to get home
again.

"You're wrong, Hugh," Amos said suddenly.

"I hope I am."

The crowd thinned out as they passed into the forward bulkheads. The
only men they saw now were the few young ones on duty. Except for
their set, anxious faces they might have been handling any