emed to me a
surprisingly easy fashion, when Wilma explained, that from here on we
would have to keep to the ground. We were nearing the camps, she said,
and there was always the possibility that some small Han scoutship,
invisible high in the sky, might catch sight of us through a
projectoscope and thus find the general location of the camps.

Wilma took me to the Scout office, which proved to be a small building
of irregular shape, conforming to the trees around it, and substantially
constructed of green sheet-like material.

I was received by the assistant Scout Boss, who reported my arrival at
once to the historical office, and to officials he called the Psycho
Boss and the History Boss, who came in a few minutes later. The attitude
of all three men was at first polite but skeptical, and Wilma's ardent
advocacy seemed to amuse them secretly.

For the next two hours I talked, explained and answered questions. I had
to explain, in detail, the manner of my life in the 20th Century and my
understanding of customs, habits, business, science and the history of
that period, and about developments in the centuries that had elapsed.
Had I been in a classroom, I would have come through the examination
with a very poor mark, for I was unable to give any answer to fully half
of their questions. But before long I realized that the majority of
these questions were designed as traps. Objects, of whose purpose I knew
nothing, were casually handed to me, and I was watched keenly as I
handled them.

In the end I could see both amazement and belief begin to show in the
faces of my inquisitors, and at last the Historical and Psycho Bosses
agreed openly that they could find no flaw in my story or reactions, and
that unbelievable as it seemed, my story must be accepted as genuine.

They took me at once to Big Boss Hart. He was a portly man with a "poker
face." He would probably have been the successful politician even in the
20th Century.

They gave him a brief outline of my story and a report of their
examination of me. He made no comment other than to nod his acceptance
of it. Then he turned to me.

"How does it feel?" he asked. "Do we look funny to you?"

"A bit strange," I admitted. "But I'm beginning to lose that dazed
feeling, though I can see I have an awful lot to learn."

"Maybe we can learn some things from you, too," he said. "So you fought
in the First World War. Do you know, we have very little left in the way
of