in again. His body had been
able to take the punishment the first time because the force had built
up gradually. Going back would be something else again.

Still he planned his next actions methodically--only in that way could
he retain his sanity. He would go forward for one hour, he decided--he
checked his wrist watch and discovered it had run down--and, if he
found nothing, he would return and take his chances on getting through
the curtain.

At the end of ten minutes he sighted land ahead of him. When he
stepped off the Strip, he stopped in amazement!

Somehow the Strip had doubled back on itself, and he had returned to
his starting place!

To his right was the rough wooden viewing platform, with its green
umbrella gone. The stands were empty, and not a person--tourist or
concessionaire--was in sight.

As Johnson stood, perplexed, he became aware of numbness spreading
over his body. He brought up his hands and watched them slowly turn
blue with cold. He realized then, in a burst of wonder, that winter
had come to Marlock. Yet it had been spring when he had gone out on
the Strip!

* * * * *

"Good God, man!" the clerk exclaimed. "Have you been out in that cold
without a coat and hat? It must be thirty below."

Johnson was unable to answer. He had run from the Strip--luckily he
remembered its location in relation to the town--but it must have been
over a mile to the hotel. Now, as he stamped his feet and beat at his
sides with numbed hands, he breathed heavily, gasping great gulps of
air into his tortured lungs.

"Come and warm yourself," the clerk said, leading him over to a hot
water radiator.

Johnson made no protest. He let the heat penetrate until it scorched
the skin on his back. Only after the coldness left his body and was
replaced by a drowsy inertia did his attention return to the clerk.

"Did you ever see me before?" Johnson asked.

The clerk shook his head. "Not that I know of."

Any further investigation would have to wait until the next day,
Johnson decided. He was dead tired, and he had to have some sleep.
"Sign me up for a room, will you?" he asked.

Once up in his room, Johnson counted his money. One hundred and
fifty-four credits. Enough to buy winter clothing and pay his room and
board for a week. Maybe two. What would he do if he could learn
nothing about himself before then?

The next day Johnson left the hotel to buy warm clothes. The town's
onl