Ruskin didn't like archeologists; they were always digging up problems from the past. Like the day Bigelow walked in and announced-- Earth's Gone To The Dogs! By William J. McClellan [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy October 1954 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ruskin leaned back and yawned--the porch chair creaked comfortably. It was a comfortable day. Fifty yards away the barnyard was alive with Spring noises. Clean crisp smells floated to him through the bright morning air. Daisy walked slowly up and watched him with big affectionate eyes. Ruskin smiled down at her. She was a pretty one, pretty soft hair, deep blue eyes, lithe rounded lines. "Nice doggie." He patted her head gently. "Nice doggie," he repeated. Holidays in the country came too seldom. The quiet was wonderful. Tom, the wrinkled little farmhand, opened the porch door. "Mr. Ruskin?" "Yes, Tom." "Man here to see you." "Who?" "That digger fellow." Ruskin frowned and swore quietly. Even his holidays were shattered by people who couldn't forget he was Commissioner of Internal Security. And these people were always little unimportant ones, like this archeologist Bigelow, whose little fears suddenly became giant threats to national security. "Send him out here, Tom." Tom turned back into the house. Ruskin could hear his gruff voice inside, and a few moments later Bigelow, stooped and bespectacled, emerged from the house. Ruskin smiled weakly. "Hello, Bigelow." "Good morning, Commissioner." Bigelow stood, clutching his briefcase, shaking with excitement. Then suddenly his eyes fell on Daisy and something like fear passed over his face. "Sit down, Bigelow." Bigelow balanced himself delicately on the edge of a porch chair, his briefcase resting on his long bony knees. But his eyes remained fixed on the dog. "Is this social or business, Bigelow?" "Sort of both, Commissioner," he answered slowly. Then added quickly, "But I wouldn't disturb your holiday if it wasn't important." Ruskin nodded dully. Then several moments of silence during which Bigelow continued to watch Daisy carefully. Finally, since his visitor did not seem inclined to speak, Ruskin asked simply, "Well?" "First tell the dog to go away." "Daisy?" "Yes." "Why?" "I won't say a word with _IT_ here." Ruskin shrugged. "As you wish," he said. "Daisy ... go ... go on, like a good girl." Daisy's big eyes seemed hurt but, reluctantly, she walked away. * * * * * Bigelow watched suspiciously after her until she was well out of hearing. "Now," he began, "a week ago we started digging around the crater on the East Coast where some great pre-Atomic cities once stood...."