I gave up trying. My brain was in a muddle, anyway. I said, "All right, Hank. You win. Now get down to straight facts. Who _is_ he, _where_ did he come from, _why_ does he want you, _how_ do you know he does, and _what_ is this all about?" Hank shifted uncomfortably. "Well, now, Jim, that's a powerful lot of questions at one lump. Dunno's I can answer 'em all--yet. Hafta talk to him first, o' course, but as near as I can figger, here's the set-up. "That guy ain't from our time. He's from some time which ain't come yet. The future, so to speak. I don't know his name, 'cause he didn't speak very clear, but I know who he wants 'cause he said me." Helen said dazedly, "He _said_--" "'Where's Cleaver?'" explained Hank. "Oh, it wasn't very clear. He was all excited. But that's what he meant, I reckon." I swallowed hard and wished the goose pimples would get off my hide. "You mean," I said, "he's coming back out of future time to talk to you?" "Seems as if. More like, he'll want to take me with him," Hank said calmly. "What! But, Hank, that would be awful! You mustn't allow anything like that--" Hank said bluntly, "You want I should find out where Helen's old man is, don't you? And them two puffessors? Way I figger, Jim, there must be somethin' awful drastic goin' on there in the future. Somethin' so bad, it's got 'em all upset an' they're back-draggin' the past for me. By accident, they musta got Hallowell an' Tomkins an' Helen's pop. I've got to get over there an' find out what's the trouble--Here it is!" * * * * * For an instant there had flickered again that ray of light. Hank warned hastily, "You two stand back out o' the way! Keep calm an' don't worry. I'll be back directly." He stepped into the middle of the room as the bright, golden light suddenly flamed anew. He lifted his voice. "Point oh-oh-oh-five, friend. Or thereabout--" And the light changed. Slid swiftly down the wavelengths again to that hue most favorable. The figure appeared, this time firm, unwavering. It was the face and figure of a man remarkably like Hank Cleaver himself; a young man, serious-eyed, hopeful of voice. "Cleaver?" he cried. "You Cleaver?" Hank nodded. "Mmm-hmm. I'm him." "Come!" said the young man. "Come, Hank Cleaver." He held out his hand. And Hank stepped forward into the blaze of pallid, green-blue light. Which was just one too many for Helen MacDowell. A tiny groan escaped her lips. She tottered, pitched forward to Hank's shoulder. Hank turned worried eyes to me. "Grab her, Jim! Get her back before--" And I, too, leaped forward. I got my hands on Helen, started to pull her from that color-field. I was aware of the distant throbbing of some unknown machine, then of a swift, sudden shock. Great forces wrenched at my body. I felt as if I were being racked in a titanic tug-o'-war. There was an instant of frightful cold, another of giddy nausea, a sensation of wild, hurtling motion.