be altered. If, say, a
time traveler returned to a period of twenty-five years ago and shot
Hitler, then all subsequent history would be changed. In that case, the
time traveler himself might never be born. They have to tread mighty
carefully."

Mr. Oyster was pleased. "I didn't expect you to be so well informed on
the subject, young man."

Simon shrugged and fumbled again with the aspirin bottle.

* * * * *

Mr. Oyster went on. "I've been considering the matter for some time
and--"

Simon held up a hand. "There's no use prolonging this. As I understand
it, you're an elderly gentleman with a considerable fortune and you
realize that thus far nobody has succeeded in taking it with him."

Mr. Oyster returned his glasses to their perch, bug-eyed Simon, but then
nodded.

Simon said, "You want to hire me to find a time traveler and in some
manner or other--any manner will do--exhort from him the secret of
eternal life and youth, which you figure the future will have
discovered. You're willing to pony up a part of this fortune of yours,
if I can deliver a bona fide time traveler."

"Right!"

Betty had been looking from one to the other. Now she said, plaintively,
"But where are you going to find one of these characters--especially if
they're interested in keeping hid?"

The old boy was the center again. "I told you I'd been considering it
for some time. The _Oktoberfest_, that's where they'd be!" He seemed
elated.

Betty and Simon waited.

"The _Oktoberfest_," he repeated. "The greatest festival the world has
ever seen, the carnival, _feria_, _fiesta_ to beat them all. Every year
it's held in Munich. Makes the New Orleans Mardi gras look like a
quilting party." He began to swing into the spirit of his description.
"It originally started in celebration of the wedding of some local
prince a century and a half ago and the Bavarians had such a bang-up
time they've been holding it every year since. The Munich breweries do
up a special beer, _Marzenbraeu_ they call it, and each brewery opens a
tremendous tent on the fair grounds which will hold five thousand
customers apiece. Millions of liters of beer are put away, hundreds of
thousands of barbecued chickens, a small herd of oxen are roasted whole
over spits, millions of pair of _weisswurst_, a very special sausage,
millions upon millions of pretzels--"

"All right," Simon said. "We'll accept it. The _Oktoberfest_ is one
whale of a