wo dozing horses.
"What's that? What are those two animals? _Horses?_" The man rubbed
his jaw, studying Cole intently. "That's strange," he said.

"Strange?" Cole murmured uneasily. "Why?"

"There haven't been any horses for over a century. All the horses were
wiped out during the Fifth Atomic War. That's why it's strange."

Cole tensed, suddenly alert. There was something in the man's eyes, a
hardness, a piercing look. Cole moved back off the porch, onto the
path. He had to be careful. Something was wrong.

"I'll be going," he murmured.

"There haven't been any horses for over a hundred years." The man came
toward Cole. "Who are you? Why are you dressed up like that? Where did
you get that vehicle and pair of horses?"

"I'll be going," Cole repeated, moving away.

The man whipped something from his belt, a thin metal tube. He stuck
it toward Cole.

It was a rolled-up paper, a thin sheet of metal in the form of a tube.
Words, some kind of script. He could not make any of them out. The
man's picture, rows of numbers, figures--

"I'm Director Winslow," the man said. "Federal Stockpile Conservation.
You better talk fast, or there'll be a Security car here in five
minutes."

Cole moved--fast. He raced, head down, back along the path to the
cart, toward the street.

Something hit him. A wall of force, throwing him down on his face. He
sprawled in a heap, numb and dazed. His body ached, vibrating wildly,
out of control. Waves of shock rolled over him, gradually diminishing.

He got shakily to his feet. His head spun. He was weak, shattered,
trembling violently. The man was coming down the walk after him. Cole
pulled himself onto the cart, gasping and retching. The horses jumped
into life. Cole rolled over against the seat, sick with the motion of
the swaying cart.

He caught hold of the reins and managed to drag himself up in a
sitting position. The cart gained speed, turning a corner. Houses flew
past. Cole urged the team weakly, drawing great shuddering breaths.
Houses and streets, a blur of motion, as the cart flew faster and
faster along.

Then he was leaving the town, leaving the neat little houses behind.
He was on some sort of highway. Big buildings, factories, on both
sides of the highway. Figures, men watching in astonishment.

After awhile the factories fell behind. Cole slowed the team down.
What had the man meant? Fifth Atomic War. Horses destroyed. It didn't
make sense. And they had things he