They stumbled down the steps and out the back door. There was a pump in the yard and, a hundred yards or so from the house, a large weathered barn. They advanced cautiously toward it. A cow had died in one of the stalls, starved to death. There was also a large truck and a sedan. A cat, wild as any rabbit, shot suddenly across their path and scooted under one of the stalls. Matt ignored it as he went to the car. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "The fuel gauge registers three-quarters full. We can cover a lot of ground in the car." "Do you suppose it's in running order?" Captain Bascom asked. Matt shrugged. "We can see. It's an old-type internal combustion engine." He glanced down at the wheels. "Those are foam rubber tires. They're O.K. The motor shouldn't have rusted, protected like this." He slid behind the wheel. The key was in the ignition; he switched it on and pressed the starter button. The motor ground and then burst into noisy sputtering life. "Get in," he said. They all bundled into the sedan. Matt backed out of the barn, turned around and drove cautiously along the rutted drive. They passed the house and reached a dirt road in front. "Which way?" asked Matt. Captain Bascom said, "Left. Away from the hills." Matt nodded and turned into the dirt road. He had to drive slowly, because in places there were wash-outs, and the road was grown up with weeds. A narrow game trail ran down the center, but that was the only evidence that the road had been used. They passed other silent, deserted farm houses. Once Lynn gave a low cry and pointed to the crest of a rise where a magnificent stallion with his band of mares was outlined against the bright blue May sky. "Horses," said Matt. "They've run wild." The dirt road wound on and on, coming at length to a black asphalt highway. A sign across the highway read: LOUISVILLE 14 MILES "Louisville?" said Nesbit. "That's a fair-sized city. Million and a half population." Lynn frowned. "It's in Kentucky, isn't it?" "Yes. On the Ohio, about a hundred and fifty miles downriver from Cincinnati." "What time is it?" Matt asked Captain Bascom. The captain glanced at his watch. "Twenty-three after ten. We've got time." "Mark this road," Matt warned them. "We want to be able to find our way back." "I've been making a map in my notebook," Lynn informed him. "Good girl." He turned into the highway and speeded up. There were no cars anywhere, except one in the ditch with a grinning skeleton in the front seat. The houses were closer and after a few miles they passed through a small town. The sign at the edge of town read: OKALONA POP. 766 SPEED LIMIT 20 MILES PER HOUR