is not hard
to get."

He nodded vigorously as the pilot looked up again. And then he watched
as a lively, tiny sketch grew on the black slab, showing half a dozen
men, garbed almost as Tommy was, using weapons which could only be
sub-machine guns and automatic pistols. They were obviously Jacaro's
gangsters. The pilot handed over the plate and watched absorbedly as
Tommy fumbled with the stylus. He drew, not well but well enough, an
outline of the towers of New York. The difference in architecture was
striking. There followed tiny figures of himself and Evelyn--with a
drily murmured, "This isn't a flattering portrait of you,
Evelyn!"--and a circle enclosing them with the towers of New York.

The pilot nodded in his turn. And then Tommy encircled the previously
drawn figures of the gangsters with New York, just as the Ragged Men
had been linked with the other city. And a second circle linked
gangsters and Ragged Men together.

* * * * *

"I'm saying," observed Tommy, "that Jacaro and his mob are the Ragged
Men of our world, which may not be wrong, at that."

There was no question but that the pilot took his meaning. He grinned
in a friendly fashion, and winced as his wounded arm hurt him.
Ruefully, he looked down at his bandage. Then he pressed a tiny stud
at the top of the black-metal pad and all the white lines vanished
instantly. He drew a new circle, with tree-ferns scattered about its
upper third--a tiny sketch of a city's towers. He pointed to that and
to the city visible through the mist--a second city, and a third, in
other places. He waved his hand vaguely about, then impatiently
scribbled over the middle third of the circle and handed it back to
Tommy.

Tommy grinned ruefully.

"A map," he said amusedly. "He's pointed out his own city and a couple
of others, and he wants us to tell him where we come from.
Evelyn--er--how are we going to explain a trip through five dimensions
in a sketch?"

Evelyn shook her head. But a shadow passed over their heads. The pilot
leaped to his feet and shouted. There were three planes soaring above
them, and the pilot in the first was in the act of releasing a smoking
object over the side. At the grounded pilot's shout, he flung his ship
into a frantic dive, while behind him the smoking thing billowed out a
thicker and thicker cloud. His plane was nearly hidden by the vapor
when he released it. It fell two hundred yards and more away, and