Across the street in the center of the little park, as though divining that it must be their destination, was Staghorn's great-grandson and three of his men. Their position enabled them to watch all four approaches to the square at the same time. Staghorn tugged out his watch again. Two minutes. They had to be in focus! A second late and they'd be locked forever. He watched the second hand creep around the dial. "We have to chance it," he said. "When I start running, run with me!" The second hand crept on. A minute left. Staghorn judged the distance from their hiding place to the grassy plot where the bearded man was standing. About seventy-five yards. Could he do seventy-five yards in ten seconds? Could Peccary? Thirty seconds left ... twenty-five ... twenty. He'd never gone through such a painful count-down ... fifteen seconds. "Ready, Dr. Peccary. It's now or never." Thirteen ... twelve ... eleven ... "Go!" Staghorn burst from his hiding place with Peccary at his heels. They dashed for the square. They were over the curb and into the street before the men in the park saw their approach and let out cries of triumph. "Dip and weave, Dr. Peccary! Dip and weave!" They dipped and wove, while bullets ripped at their clothing. They were running right into the fire, making better targets at every stride. Staghorn ran with his watch in his hand, and never had time and distance diminished so slowly. Seven seconds, six, five, and they were still alive and across the street. Four seconds, three, two. They were over the park and onto the grass. A bullet crashed into Staghorn's leg and he fell, diving forward. "Got him!" cried his great-grandson. "Now get Peccary!" * * * * * Three shots rang out as one. But at some point in the bullets' flight toward Peccary and Staghorn, the square and everything in it vanished. Staghorn found himself sitting in Humanac's transmitter unit. The time clock had functioned. He was disengaged. He lifted the helmet from his head and stumbled from the cell, drawing a trouser leg up to examine his leg. It seemed that he could detect a scar. Then he turned and helped Dr. Peccary from the other transmitter. Both men stepped toward the console to look at Humanac's screen. It was still focused on the little park. The bearded man and his companions were now exchanging glances of consternation. After a moment the bearded man wet his lips. "Maybe he was right," he said in awed tones. "No one but my great-grandfather could ever do a trick like that. And maybe what he said is true. It's all illusion. We're nothing but mathematical probabilities!" At this point Staghorn hauled down the master switch. The screen went dead as Humanac's power was shut off.