ngers painstakingly placed the nails, one by
one, in the line. The distance left to cover was less than six inches!

He lined up the last few nails. Then both men were sinking back on their
heels, as they saw there was a gap of three inches to cover!

"Beaten!" Erickson ground out. "By three inches! Three inches from the
present ... and yet it might as well be a million miles!"

Miller's body felt as though it were in a vise. His muscles ached with
strain. So taut were his nerves that he leaped as though stung when
Major nuzzled a cool nose into his hand again. Automatically, he began
to stroke the dog's neck.

"Well, that licks us," he muttered. "There isn't another piece of
movable metal in the world."

Major kept whimpering and pushing against him. Annoyed, the druggist
shoved him away.

"Go 'way," he muttered. "I don't feel like--"

Suddenly then his eyes widened, as his touch encountered warm metal. He
whirled.

"There it is!" he yelled. "The last link. _The nameplate on Major's
collar!_"

In a flash, he had torn the little rectangular brass plate from the dog
collar. Erickson took it from his grasp. Sweat stood shiny on his skin.
He held the bit of metal over the gap between wire and pole.

"This is it!" he smiled brittlely. "We're on our way, Dave. Where, I
don't know. To death, or back to life. But--we're going!"

The metal clinked into place. Live, writhing power leaped through the
wire, snarling across partial breaks. The transformers began to hum. The
humming grew louder. Singing softly, the bronze globe over their heads
glowed green. Dave Miller felt a curious lightness. There was a snap in
his brain, and Erickson, Major and the laboratory faded from his senses.

Then came an interval when the only sound was the soft sobbing he had
been hearing as if in a dream. That, and blackness that enfolded him
like soft velvet. Then Miller was opening his eyes, to see the familiar
walls of his own kitchen around him!

Someone cried out.

"Dave! Oh, Dave, dear!"

It was Helen's voice, and it was Helen who cradled his head in her lap
and bent her face close to his.

"Oh, thank God that you're alive--!"

"Helen!" Miller murmured. "What--are--you--doing here?"

"I couldn't go through with it. I--I just couldn't leave you. I came
back and--and I heard the shot and ran in. The doctor should be here. I
called him five minutes ago."

"_Five minutes_ ... How long has it been since I shot myself?"

"Oh,