he square, black-enamelled
case, where all of those copper ribbons came together.

* * * * *

It was sealed, and apparently self-contained. Nothing could have damaged
it very much, in the frigid stillness of millions of years. Its secrets
were hidden within it. But they could not be too unfamiliar. And its
presence was logical. A small, compact power unit. Nervously, he turned
a little wheel. A faint vibration was transmitted to his gloved hand.
And the globe in the ceiling began to glow.

He shut the thing off again. But how long did it take him to run back to
his sagging creation of clear plastic, while the kids howled gleefully
around him, and return with the end of a long cable, and pliers? How
long did it take him to disconnect all of the glazed copper ribbons, and
substitute the wires of the cable--attaching them to queer
terminal-posts? No--not long.

The power was not as great as that which his own large atomic battery
would have supplied. But it proved sufficient. And the current was
direct--as it was supposed to be. The electrolysis apparatus bubbled
vigorously. Slowly the tentlike roof began to rise, under the beginnings
of a tiny gas-pressure.

"That does it, Pops!" Bubs shrilled.

"Yeah--maybe so," John Endlich agreed almost optimistically. He felt
really tender toward his kids, just then. They'd really helped him, for
once.

Yes--almost he was hopeful. Until he glanced at the rapidly declining
sun. An all-night vigil. No. Probably worse. Oh Lord--how long could he
last like this? Even if he managed to keep Neely and Company at bay?
Night after night.... All that he had accomplished seemed useless. He
just had so much more that could be wrecked--pushed over with a harsh
laugh, as if it really was something funny.

John Endlich's flesh crawled. And in his thinking, now, he went a little
against his own determinations. Probably because, in the present state
of his disgust, he needed a drink--bad.

"Nuts!" he growled lugubriously. "If I'd only been a little more
sociable.... That was where the trouble started. I might have got broke,
but I would've made friends. They think I'm snooty."

Rose's jaw hardened, as if she took his regrets as an accusation that
she had led him along the straight and narrow path, which--by an
exasperating shift in philosophical principle--now seemed the shortest
route to destruction. But he felt very sorry for her, too; and he didn't
believ