closer to her for they did not want to frighten her. Never had Aaron Carruthers been so stirred emotionally by any earth being as he was by this exquisite creature from outer space. His eyes were grave as he searched her face for some sign that she was the one he had known in the dim, ageless past. He smiled reassuringly, but he could not recall when and where he had known her.
Fear had vanished from her eyes. She had glanced only casually at the bearded chemist. Her attention was centered wholly on the other earth being. Long and searchingly she watched him. noting his shoulders, his chin, his deep-set eyes, and the high, intelligent forehead.
Suddenly her chin quivered. She raised both hands to her mouth. For a moment she seemed undecided as to what to do. Some poignant memory was shining in her eyes. She took a slow, uncertain step forward, then broke into a run, both arms outstretched.
Carruthers was conscious of but one thing as her arms encircled him and he felt the warmth of her body pressed close to his own. This girl was no figment of his imagination. He had known and loved her in the post. She was his—she would always be his. She was real. She was as real as the sun's afterglow glinting on her hair, and the quickening beat of his heart that matched the beat of her own.
She raised her face to his and he kissed her tenderly. But her face was troubled. She pointed upward and spoke in a tongue that was strange to his ears.
He ahook his head. He didn't know how to explain to her what had happened to the rest of the cylinders that had been ejected from the Mass. He pointed toward the spot where the sun had vanished. "Sun," he explained. He indicated the wide sweep of heavens. "Sky." Downward he pointed. "Earth." Then, pointing at himself: "Aaron."
"Ar—ron," she repeated. Her eyes brightened responsively. "Ishtar," she added in a musical voice.
His eyes were bewildered.
She pointed at herself as she had seen him do and seemed afraid that he would not understand. But his smile reassured her. She backed from his arms, her eyes once more straying aloft into the sky as if searching for something in the red sunset. After a moment they clouded with disappointment and tears.
Carruthers again held out his arms. She came into them sobbing and trembling in her grief. And he held her tightly, possessively.
"Bah!" rumbled the bearded chemist.
And the sound seemed to set the mountain tumbling and crashing about the young scientist's ears in a splitting orgy of sound and confusions. Violet lightnings stabbed his brain, numbing it with soothing anaesthesia.
He could feel himself falling—falling—falling!
The white walls of the laboratory reappeared before his eyes. Against this background he could see the Time Projector whose potent power had carried him ten years into the future. He removed the metal helmet from his head. Vignot and Danzig had likewise recovered and were following his example.
Carruthers, himself, broke the first silence. "Do either of you remember all that happened?"
"Only the last three days," said Danzig. "I was working alone in a strange power-station which had been abandoned. That's all I seem to remember."
"And you, Vignot?"
"My memory is cloudy. I recall seeing a calendar dated 2017. Also I had an interest in seismographic disturbances. I also recall that I was hungry, that I could obtain only food capsules, and that I was
