t the vaguest idea just how he
was to go about it, especially since his strength was failing him, but do
it he would. First, though, he would have to wait until sometime before
dawn when everybody--even Thougor--was sure to be asleep.

The hours dragged heavily between then and his chosen time. Many were the
times when he longed for something to read, although he supposed that by
this time he'd forgotten how. Like wisps of smoke, memories of his youth
in the concrete jungle drifted through his mind. How long ago that all
seemed now. Sometimes he wondered if any of it had been real. But here he
was, as his parents had wished him to be, trying to help what was left of
humanity back up the trail. To what, he wondered? To destruction
again--this time, probably complete and final?

He shook his old head and ran a trembling hand through his white shaggy
hair. He'd gotten this far; somehow he would get the rest of the way.

Builder got up and crossed over to his sleeping pile. After tying several
skins together, he folded them under his arm and walked out into the
pre-dawn night. His bones felt the crackling cold of early spring as they
had never felt it before. Slowly he made his way around the village to
where Thor was housed under a huge slanting roof of bark and scraped
skins. He'd never seen Thor, and now wished he'd paid at least one visit
to the god.

Like a shadow he glided carefully through the blackness in back of the
temple until he was just inside the rear opening. He could see clear
across the chamber, out into the pale twinkling stars. Then he detected a
dark mass in the center of the temple silhouetted against the stars; that
must be Thor.

Swiftly Builder advanced towards it until his foot struck something soft,
causing him to stumble and fall. As he did so, he heard a grunt sounding
like someone being kicked in the stomach--

Then something was on top of him, pounding his head and shoulders with a
heavy stick of some kind. Old Builder knew he didn't have the strength to
wrestle; he managed to get his pile of skins unfolded and, with his last
ounce of strength, throw them over the head of his attacker. Somehow he
managed to wiggle out from underneath and climb to his feet. His assailant
began to scream for help, but the heavy skins muffled his shouts.

Quickly Builder looked around for something to hit him with. The only
thing his eye spotted was the idol. He hobbled over and, using both arms,
dragged it