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beside them, having flown down on the power suit. “Caught your thoughts⁠—rather Zezdon Afthen did.” He handed Arcot a ray pistol. The rest of the Greeks were near now, crying in amazement, and running more slowly. They didn’t seem so anxious to attack. Arcot turned the ray pistol to one side.

“Wait!” called Morey. A face peered from around the rock toward which Arcot had aimed his pistol. It was that of a girl, about fifteen years old in appearance, but hard work had probably aged her face. Morey bent over, heaved on a small boulder, about two hundred pounds of rock, and rolled it free of the depression it rested in, then caught it on a molecular ray, hurled it up. Arcot turned his heat ray on it for an instant, and it was white hot. Then the molecular ray threw it over toward the great rock, and crushed it against it. Three children shrieked and ran out from the rock, scurrying down the hillside.

The soldiers had stopped. They looked at Morey. Then they looked at the great rock, three hundred yards from him. They looked at the rock fragments.

“They think you threw it,” grinned Arcot.

“What else⁠—they saw me pick it up, saw me roll it, and it flew. What else could they think?”

Arcot’s heat ray hissed out, and the rocks sputtered and cracked, then glowed white. There was a dull explosion, and chips of rock flew up. Water, imprisoned, had been turned into steam. In a moment the whistle and crackle of combined heat and molecular rays stabbing out from Arcot’s hands had built a barrier of fused rocks.

Leisurely Arcot and Morey carried their now revived prisoner back to the ship, while Wade flew ahead to open the locks.

Half an hour later the prisoner was discharged, much to his surprise, and the ship rose. They had been able to learn nothing from him. Even the Greek Gods, Zeus, Hermes, Apollo, all the later Greek gods, were unknown, or so greatly changed that Arcot could not recognize them.

“Well,” he said at length, “it seems all we know is that they came before any historical Greeks we know of. That puts them back quite a bit, but I don’t know how far. Shall we go see the Egyptians?”

They tried Egypt, a few moments across the Mediterranean, landing close to the mouth of the Nile. The people of a village near by immediately set out after them. Better prepared this time, Arcot flew out to meet them with Zezdon Afthen and Stel Felso Theu. Surely, he felt, the sight of the strange men would be no more terrifying than the ship or the men flying. And that did not seem to deter their attack. Apparently the proverb that “Discretion is the better part of valor,” had not been invented.

Arcot landed near the head of the column, and cut off two or three men from the rest with the aid of his ray pistol. Zezdon Afthen quickly searched his mind, and with Arcot’s aid they determined he did not know any of the Gods that Arcot suggested.

Finally they had to return to the ship, disappointed. They had had the slight satisfaction of finding that the Sun God was Ralz, the later Egyptian Ra might well have been an evolved form of that name.

They restocked the ship, fresh game and fruits again appearing on the menu, then once again they launched forth into space to wait for their own time.

“It seems to me that we must have produced some effect by our visit,” said Arcot, shaking his head solemnly.

“We did, Arcot,” replied Morey softly. “We left an impress in history, an impress that still is, and an impress that affected countless thousands.

“Meet the Egyptian Gods with their heads strange to terrestrians, the Gods who fly through the air without wings, come from a shining house that flies, whose look, whose pointed finger melts the desert sands, and the moist soil!” he continued softly, nodding toward the Ortolian and the Talsonian.

“Their ‘impossible’ Gods existed, and visited them. Indubitably some genius saw that here was a chance for fame and fortune and sold ‘charms’ against the ‘Gods.’ Result: we are carrying with us some of the oldest deities. Again, we did leave our imprint in history.”

“And,” cried Wade excitedly, “meet the great Hercules, who threw men about. I always knew that Morey was a brainless brute, but I never realized the marvelous divining powers of those Greeks so perfectly⁠—now, the Incarnation of Dumb Power!” Dramatically Wade pointed to Morey, unable even now to refrain from some unnecessary comments.

“All right, Mercury, the messenger of the Gods speaks. The little flaps on Wade’s flying shoes must indeed have looked like the winged shoes of legend. Wade was Mercury, too brainless for anything but carrying the words of wisdom uttered by others.

“And Arcot,” continued Morey, releasing Wade from his condescending stare, “is Jove, hurling the rockfusing, destroying thunderbolts!”

“The Gods that my friends have been talking of,” explained Arcot to the curious Ortolians, “are legendary deities of Earth. I can see now that we did leave an imprint on history in the only way we could⁠—as Gods, for surely no other explanation could have occurred to those men.”

The days passed swiftly in the ship, as their work approached completion. Finally, when the last of the equation of Time, artificial matter, and the most awful of their weapons, the unlimited Cosmic Power, had been calculated, they fell to the last stage of the work. The actual appliances were designed. Then the completed apparatus that the Ortolian and the Talsonian had been working on, was carefully investigated by the terrestrial physicists, and its mechanism studied. Arcot had great plans for this, and now it was incorporated in their control apparatus.

The one remaining problem was their exact location in time. Already their progress had brought them well up to the nineteenth century, but, as Morey sadly remarked, they couldn’t tell what date, for they were sadly lacking in history. Had they known the

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