On the eve of the last of the terrible, cataclysmic wars that burned mankind from earth like a searing flame from outer space, Johann Adam entered the globe and the others went back, to die. Their supposition had been correct. The last great invention of the war gods, a corrosive gas, had got out of control. Within a space of years men were wiped from the face of earth. What happened then Adam could not say. Perhaps man had struggled up from the bottom of evolution's ladder again; perhaps a tribe of high-type apes had been left after the catastrophe, and were now Rog's people, developed by a few thousand years. At any rate, the world was again stumbling through the dark shadows of the Stone Age. And from that murky period civilization was slowly crawling back to its former golden age. And Rog knew who would take the lead in the advance. He himself, under the guidance of Johann Adam, would be the Old Man of all Old Men! He would be instrumental in leading his people away from the paths that would deter their progress. All this he would do, with Lo at his side! He took the drawing-stick himself, then, and made what crude signs he could to tell of the strained conditions at the caves. Adam frowned and nodded slowly. Clearly he was worried. The death of this man, whom he knew was hundreds of years ahead of his time, might nullify all his chances of aiding the world. Then a gleam of hope lighted his eyes. By pictures he showed Rog what to do. He was to bring Lo with him and stay here in the globe until he had learned enough to be able to convince the tribe of his superiority. Until the day when he must be recognized as the leader of them all! He was reluctant to leave Adam, and yet eager to carry out his instructions. Trembling with anticipation, he took his clumsy club over his shoulder and ran back through the trees towards the river.... He came back to the caves to find an angry group awaiting him. Sarak stood at the entrance to the cave, leaning on his club. He was an imposing figure in his anger. His sloping shoulders bulged massively under a mat of black hair, and his short body was tight with muscles drawn hard by hatred. "Sluggard!" he spat at Rog. "You run off and hide, do you, while others work? Already black clouds gather, but you let old men and women, as well as the younger ones, find food to keep the fat on your bones during the long winter." Rog stiffened with anxiety. He saw Lo watching him wide-eyed and white of face, and realized Luk-no was grinning at his predicament. He decided on a bold lie. "I was stalking a deer," he said. "I followed it far into the hills, but could not get close enough to kill it. Had I succeeded, it would have fed more mouths than what roots I could have gathered." The Old Man snorted. "You do not even lie well," he snarled. "You carry only a club. Did you think to get close enough to kill it with that?" His close-set, red-rimmed eyes blazed. "Where is your spear?" "I--I lost it," Rog faltered.