The man aloft wriggled. I was holding him by the back of the belt. I gave him a warning shake. "Lie quiet, little man," I said, "or I'll chuck you into the ooze." The three moved forward uncertainly. "Wait," he said to them, his voice calm. Then he chuckled. I admired his nerve. "Big fellow," he said to me, "how long since you ranged the fens and slew the upstart Man?" I set him on his feet. "I was right," I said. "The call wasn't in my mind alone." He grinned at his friends. "Here is another who has the memory," said he. * * * * * I stared at him. He was short, stocky, with a great shock of yellow hair sleeked down with oil. His eyes were living gray jewels in a tan face. His friends were nondescript, yet they held an odd resemblance to one another: all were broad of chest and vital-looking, and--I liked them. "You're a rugged one," said the leader. "How long since you came awake?" "About thirty-two hours." They exchanged doubting glances. "I mean the first token you had that you were--different." "Thirty-two hours." "And you remember the fens? Are you sure?" "I remember that I was a Pict. I was called a vampire and likely a werewolf. And I've had intimations that I go back even farther than those fens." "My God," said yellow-hair half-aloud. "Thirty-two hours! Did you get a swat on the skull, or was it natural?" "I think I just woke out of a sleep with it. It took a while to percolate." "Kill anybody?" he asked casually. "Five men." "The primal anger, yes. Five! Then you're Bill Cuff, of course. We've been hearing about you on the radio. Thought you might be one of the Old Companions." "So that's what I am," I said. "A name, only a name. We like the useless trappings of fraternity as well as Homo sapiens does." "How far back do we go?" "You'll know some day. Soon, if your progress thus far is a criterion. Better to remember by yourself." He shook his head. "You're a phenomenon. Do you know how long it took me to develop the memory? Seventeen years. And I am second leader here." "Who's leader?" "You'll meet him." I clenched my hands, looked him up and down, and said. "Pict, wolf-man, or whatever, I tell you this. I take orders badly and I acknowledge no authority higher than myself." Anything less like the old Bill Cuff would have been hard to imagine, and yet I knew these things about myself and I spoke only the truth. "Ah," he said, his jewel-gray eyes lighting, "you're a Tartar, all right. Goes with the swift progress, I suppose. We may have to tame you a little." "Little man," I said gently, "you are welcome to try." He jerked a thumb at my Gladstone. "Got anything worthwhile in there?" "Just clothes and junk."