Rog shoved his nose against the glass, studying the dignified figure. He wished, suddenly, that the old man were not dead, for he could undoubtedly explain all these things to him that had him puzzling so hopelessly. At last his gaze wandered to the maze of machines at the head of the couch. There was nothing there that he could begin to understand. Just a battery of glass and metal and tubes. Two red wires led from the machinery to a board on which were a number of dials and things that Rog scarcely gave a second glance. Then, all at once, he stiffened. His eyes fastened on a shining red circle of metal, exactly the same as the symbol on the door. And there was a section out of it, lying there asking him to put it back in! * * * * * Now he went to it and lifted the heavy little bit of red stuff. It had prongs that fitted into corresponding holes in the rest of the circle which was firmly fixed to the board. Rog knew he was supposed to shove the sector into place. His fingers were trembling as he hesitated. Suddenly he bent forward and pushed the prongs home! [Illustration: _Suddenly Rog bent forward and shoved the prongs home._] There was an instant of utter silence. His primitive mind told him that this was a moment of moments, though he knew not why. Gradually a low humming told him his action had taken results. The machinery glowed and wheels began to turn slowly, then faster and faster, until they were spinning discs of silver. Rog's eyes fastened on the ancient's face. Why, he did not know. Perhaps he was asking him to answer.... He scowled. Were his eyes deceiving him, or had the placid white face become flushed? "Agh!" A hoarse bark of terror burst from Rog's throat. The old man's eyes were open and he was looking straight at him! The young aborigine had seen enough. He turned and fled, caring for nothing but his own life now. * * * * * For a week he was afraid even to think of what he had seen. His mind was outraged by the thought of the dead returning to life. He worked so hard with the tribe now that they were amazed at the change in him. It was growing on towards winter, and stores of roots, edible weeds, and dried meat were crowded into the smoky, dark caves in which they lived. The winters had been growing so heavy that the Old Man had even mentioned moving farther south, where they had observed birds and certain animals went in cold weather. This winter they were taking no chance of starving. Great supplies of food were being put in long ahead of time. But in spite of Rog's industry, Luk-no found time to run him down, secretly, to Sarak. The two of them would mumble between themselves, Luk-no furtive and prattling, the Old Man smoldering with righteous indignation. And presently the Old Man, who was actually only about fifteen years older than Rog, would take it upon himself to chastise him. His great, bulging muscles would strain as he cudgelled him.