"This's 1927, June the third." Horgan tugged absent-mindedly at his long brown locks. "Our boss now is Tyad Roosfald. His third year as Boss." "Teddy Roosevelt." Orth studied his knuckles thoughtfully. "And I suppose General Eisenhower is invading Germany to win our independence!" "Not Germany," corrected the frontiersman, "but Great Britain. We have accepted Churchill's challenge to land there and fight. Of course the war with Germany and Japan are going on too." Orth groaned. "What about this other thing--Lee and Washington down South? Don't tell me it's Civil War revival week too. What kind of a gag are you trying to pull on me, Horgan?" Horgan rubbed a rasping palm thoughtfully along his jaw. "There is war between the States," he said at last. "Everywhere there is war. The broadcast drums warn us that soon we must fight Cuba." Smoke puffed from his nostrils. "Helping Spain." One of Orth's hands covered his eyes and he felt his face growing hot with a mingling of anger and bewilderment. He stuttered as he tried to talk. He swallowed smoke and coughed, choking. "Good afternoon," called a fresh young voice, a feminine voice, from the cabin's rude door. * * * * * Their heads twisted smartly toward the opening. Horgan's bared sword was in his fist even before he was on his feet. Together they stood facing the tall round-bodied woman who had walked in upon them. Despite her stature she was remarkably beautiful. She was pale of skin and her great mass of intricately braided hair was of a softly radiant silver hue. The simple garment of golden-hued cloth covered her adequately--but no more than that. Even her sandals were simple, accessories of comfort and utility rather than fashion. "I am Ayna of Globe 64BA," she told them briskly. "I wish one or both of you to escort me to Ivath's headquarters." She was eyeing Orth's zippered shirt and glassid trousers curiously. "Ivath must be slipping," she said. "You are definitely out of the wrong century. More likely the Twenty-first. I cannot be mistaken for I have majored in Ancient American Mythology." "I was born in 1960!" Orth snapped, "and I definitely must be in the wrong century. Or I'm out of my head! That's more like it. All this pother about the Civil War and the World Wars going on at the same time. Maybe just the names are the same. Or--what?" "There must be a short circuiting of your memory cells," said Ayna soothingly, "but Ivath and his helpers will soon set that right. Take me to him and I will help you." She looked at Horgan. Horgan was shaking his head. "Sorry," he said, "but until the Civil War is ended--here I stay." The girl frowned. She turned to Orth. "How about you?" she demanded. "Are you part of the local scenery too, or can you travel?" "I have no idea what this is all about," Orth told her, "but I go where I please. Maybe you can set me right on a few things, Ayna. Then I'll go along with you." "Fine!" Her teeth flashed.