"This month," said Tina, setting a switch. "Would not you say so? And this day." "But the hour, Tina? The minute?" The vast intricate corridors of Time! "It would be in the night. Hasten, Harl, or we will pass! Try the night--around midnight. Even Migul has the mechanical intelligence to fear a daylight pausing." The controls were set for the stop. Larry heard Tina murmuring, "Oh, I pray we may have judged with correctness!" The vehicle was rapidly coming to a stop. Larry gripped the table, struggling to hold firm to his reeling senses. This soundless, grinding halt! His swaying gaze strayed from the mirror. Outside the glowing bars he could now discern the luminous greyness separating. Swift, soundless claps of light and dark, alternating. Daylight and darkness. They had been blended, but now they were separating. The passing, retrograding days--a dozen to the second of Larry's consciousness. Then fewer. Vivid daylight. Black night. Daylight again. "Not too slowly, Harl; we will be seen!... Oh, it is gone!" Larry saw the mirror go blank. The image on it had flared to great distinctness, faded, and was gone. Darkness was around Larry. Then daylight. Then darkness again. "Gone!" echoed Harl's disappointed voice. "But it stopped here!... Shall we stop, Tina?" "Yes! Leave the control settings as they are. Larry--be careful, now." A dragging second of grey daylight. A plunge into night. It seemed to Larry that all the universe was soundlessly reeling. Out of the chaos, Tina was saying: "We have stopped. Are you all right, Larry?" "Yes," he stammered. * * * * * He stood up. The cage room, with its faint lights, benches and settles, instrument tables and banks of controls, was flooded with moonlight from outside the bars. Night, and the moon and stars out there. Harl slid the door open. "Come, let us look." The reeling chaos had fallen swiftly from Larry. With Tina's small black and white figure beside him, he stood at the threshold of the cage. A warm gentle night breeze fanned his face. A moonlit landscape lay somnolent around the cage. Trees were nearby. The cage stood in a corner of a field by a low picket fence. Behind the trees, a ribbon of road stretched away toward a distant shining river. Down the road some five hundred feet, the white columns of a large square brick house gleamed in the moonlight. And behind the house was a garden and a group of barns and stables. The three in the cage doorway stood whispering, planning. Then two of them stepped to the ground. They were Larry and Tina; Harl remained to guard the cage. The two figures on the ground paused a moment and then moved cautiously along the inside line of the fence toward the home of Major Atwood. Strange anachronisms, these two prowling figures! A girl from the year 2930; a man from 1935!