ough these ancient
glades. Remember to tell your friends about your friendly national park.
The full facilities of this park are waiting for all lovers of the great
outdoors."

A panel in the tree opened. Out slid a bedroll, a Thermos bottle, and a
box supper.

"I wish you a pleasant evening," said Oaky, "amid the wild splendor of
nature's wonderland. And now the National Symphony Orchestra under the
direction of Otter Krug brings you 'The Upland Glades,' by Ernesto
Nestrichala, recorded by the National North American Broadcasting
Company. This is your friendly oak tree signing off."

Music emanated from several hidden speakers. Barrent scratched his head;
then, deciding to take matters as they came, he ate the food, drank
coffee from the Thermos, unrolled the bedroll, and lay down.

Sleepily he contemplated the notion of a forest wired for sound,
equipped with food and drink, and none of it more than ten minutes from
public transportation. Earth certainly did a lot for her citizens.
Presumably they liked this sort of thing. Or did they? Could this be
some huge and subtle trap which the authorities had set for him?

He tossed and turned for a while, trying to get used to the music. After
a while it blended into the background of windblown leaves and creaking
branches. Barrent went to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Five

In the morning, the friendly oak tree dispensed breakfast and shaving
equipment. Barrent ate, washed and shaved, and set out for the nearest
town. He had his objectives firmly in mind. He had to establish some
sort of foolproof disguise, and he had to make contact with Earth's
underground. When this was accomplished, he had to find out as much as
he could about Earth's secret police, military dispositions, and the
like.

Group Two had worked out a procedure for accomplishing these objectives.
As Barrent came to the outskirts of a town, he hoped that the Group's
methods would work. So far, the Earth he was on had very little
resemblance to the Earth which the Group had reconstructed.

He walked down interminable streets lined with small white cottages. At
first, he thought every house looked the same. Then he realized that
each had one or two small architectural differences. But instead of
distinguishing the houses, these niggling differences simply served to
point up the monotonous similarities. There were hundreds of these
cottages, stretching as far as he could see, each of them set upon a