George, frightened half out of his wits, scooted into the
mousehole and ran and ran without stopping, through the mouseways as
fast as he could, until he reached the train. But, of course, the
train was no longer moving. All the telepathic mice had cut every
cable, telephone line, power line and telegraph line, had also cut the
wires on every plane, tank, vehicle, train and ship. They also had
destroyed every file in the world.

So George had no alternative but to walk back to the plant, which had
been preserved as a memorial to great-great-grandfather Michael.

* * * * *

It took him three weary weeks to make it, and the first thing he
noticed when he got there was the trap in front of the door.
Naturally, there was no bait in it and the spring wasn't set, but the
trap was still there.

"George," Clara said to him the moment after she kissed him, "you must
speak to the janitor about the trap."

So George went outside right away, since he could hear the janitor
swish-swashing the dust around.

"_Hello!_" he shouted.

"Hello yourself," the janitor said. "So you're home again."

"My wife wants the trap moved," George said. "She's afraid the
children might get hurt."

"Sorry," the janitor replied. "My orders were to put a mousetrap by
each mousehole."

"How come you didn't go away with all the other people?" George
shouted up at him.

"Stop shouting," the janitor said. Then, "I'm too old to change," he
added. "Besides, I have a farm down the road."

"But haven't they stopped paying you?" George demanded.

"What's the difference," the janitor countered, "money can't buy
anything any more."

"Well, what will I tell my wife about the trap?" George asked.

The janitor scratched his head. "You might tell her that I'll take it
up with the supervisor, if he ever comes back."

So George went inside and told Clara.

"George," she said, stamping her foot, "I can't go on with that trap
out there! You know that supervisor won't come back, so you've got to
go out and find him."

George, who knew that there weren't many people around anywhere any
more, walked over to his favorite easy chair and sat down. "Clara," he
said, as he picked up a book, "you can leave or stay as you wish, but
there is nothing more that I can do. I've wasted a full month over
that trap without accomplishing a single thing, and I'm not going to
start that business all over again."