As he came closer Hugh saw that he was holding a forked stick in his hands, the foot of the Y pointing straight ahead, preceding the lad no matter where he went. On the boy's head was a conical blue cap lettered with astrological and alchemical symbols, which had sagged so as to completely cover one eye, but he seemed loathe to let go of the stick to adjust it. In a moment the boy had staggered to a stop directly before Hugh, while the rigid and quivering end of the stick went down to Hugh's shoes and began slowly to ascend. He was conscious of a regular sniffing sound. "Better tend to that cold, son," he suggested. "That isn't me, it's the rod," the boy said desperately. "Please, sir, have you seen a brown puppy--" At this point the stick finished its olfactory inspection of Hugh and jerked sidewise, yanking the boy after it. As the urchin disappeared, still calling "Here, Fleet!" Hugh felt a faint shiver. Here was the first evidence of a working magic before his eyes, and his sober astronomer's soul recoiled from it. A window squealed open over his head, and he jumped just in time to avoid a gush of garbage which was flung casually down toward the gutter. Thereafter he clung as close to the wall as he could, and kept beneath the overhanging second stories. Walking thus, with his eyes on the sole-punishing cobbles, deep in puzzlement, his progress was presently arrested by collision with a mountain. When his eyes finally reached the top of it, it turned out to be a man, a great muscular thug clad in expensive blue velvet small-clothes and a scarlet cape like an eighteenth century exquisite. Was there no stopping this kaleidoscope of anachronism? "Weah's ya mannas?" the apparition roared. "Move out!" "What for?" Hugh replied in his most austere classroom tone. "I don't care to be used as a sewage pail any more than you do." "Ah," said the giant. "Wise guy, eh? Dunno ya bettas, eh?" There was a whistling sound as he drew a thin sword which might have served to dispatch whales. Hugh's Royal Society reserve evaporated and he clawed frantically for his automatic, but before the double murder was committed the giant lowered his weapon and bent to stare more closely at the diminutive doctor. "Ah," he repeated. "Ya a transportee, eh?" "I guess so," Tracy said, remembering that Martin had used the word. "Weah ya from?" "Brooklyn," Hugh said hopefully. The giant shook his head. "Weah you guys think up these here names is a wonda. Well, ya dunno the customs, that's easy t' see." He stepped aside to let Hugh pass. "Thank you," said Hugh with a relieved sigh. "Can you tell me where I can find an astrologer?" He still could not pronounce the word without choking. "Ummmm--most of 'em are around the squaah. Ony, juss between you an' me, buddy, I'd keep away from there till the p'rade's ova. Yero's got an orda out fa arrestin' transportees." The giant nodded pleasantly. "Watch ya step." He stalked on down the street.