"Stuff and nonsense. Argue about it in the morning. I'm plumb tuckered out; this day started before daybreak. Used to be I'd wind the reins around the whip and nap until the mare got us home. But these things are stupid."

After a breakfast of fried eggs, fried ham, fried potatoes, pancakes with sorghum and country butter, watermelon preserves, strawberry preserves, cream that would barely pour, and endless coffee saucered and blowed-the doctor's housekeeper, his old-maid sister, had kept plying Lazarus, insisting that he wasn't eating enough to keep a bird alive-he set out again, a dollar richer, much cleaner, and looking less like a hayseed, for spit and Shinola and elbow grease had improved the appearance of his shoes, and Miss Nettie had insisted on giving him some old clothes-"Might as well be you, Roderick, as the Salvation Army. Here, take this tie, too; Doc doesn't wear it anymore. Look neat when you look for work, I always say-I do declare I won't hardly open the screen door to give a man a handout if he don't wear a necktie."

He accepted it all, aware that she was right, aware also that Dr. Chaddock would have spent a bad night trying to sleep in his automobile while his sister worried had not Lazarus come along-accounts balanced. Miss Nettie made a neat bundle of his own clothes; he thanked her and promised to send them a postcard from Kansas City-then he abandoned the bundle in the first bushes he came to, feeling mild regret as those clothes would wear indefinitely despite the worn look built into them. But they were slightly anachronistic in cut and he had never expected to wear them longer than he had to-and a man on the road could not afford to look like a bindle stiff, which Miss Nettie probably didn't know.

He found the railroad but avoided the depot. He posted himself at the north edge of town and waited. A passenger train and a freight headed south went by; then about ten o'clock a freight showed up headed north and still slowly gathering speed; Lazarus swung aboard. He made no effort not to be seen and let the brakeman shake him down for a dollar-a replica dollar; his authentic dollars were now under a bandage on the inside of his left thigh.

The brakeman warned him that there might be a railroad dick at the next stop-don't give him more than a dollar-and there were Pinkertons in the K.C. yards if he was going that far...so don't: those beauties would take his dollar and work him over anyhow. Lazarus thanked him and thought about asking what line this was-the Missouri Pacific?-but decided that it did not matter; it was headed north, and the brakeman's advice let him know that it was going far enough to suit him.

After a long hot day, half of it in a gondola, half in an empty boxcar that was small improvement; Lazarus dropped off as the train passed through Swope Park. He was such a weary, dirty mess that he almost regretted not having bought a ticket. But he put it out of his thoughts, knowing that arriving in a city with no money could wind up as "thirty dollars or thirty days" instead of the milder tariff of a small town. As it was, he had almost six dollars, most of it "real" money.

He noted with delight that Swope Park looked familiar, despite the centuries. He hurried on through and found the end of the Swope Park streetcar line. While he waited for the infrequent weekday service, he paid a jitney for a triple-dip ice-cream cone and ate it with relish, peace in his soul. Another five cents and a long trolley ride with one transfer took him into downtown Kansas City. Lazarus enjoyed every minute and wished it were longer. How peaceful and clean and tree-shaded the city was! How gently bucolic!

He recalled another time he had visited his old hometown-what century?-sometime early in the Diaspora, he thought-when a citizen venturing out into its filthy canyon Streets wore a steel helmet simulating a wig, a bulletproof vest and codpiece, spectacles that were armor, gloves that covered brass knucks, and other concealed and illegal weapons-but rarely went out into the streets; it was more discreet to stick to transportation pods and go outdoors only in the guarded suburbs-especially after dark.

But here and now guns were legal-and no one wore them. He got off the streetcar at McGee, found the Y.M.C.A. by asking a policeman. There, for half a dollar, he was given a key to a small cubicle, a towel, and a small bar of soap.

After wallowing in a shower, Lazarus returned to the lobby, having noted both Bell and Home telephones at the desk, with a notice "Local Calls 5 cents-pay the Desk Clerk." He asked to use the telephone books, found it in the Bell System book:

"Chapman, Bowles, & Finnegan, attys at law"-R. A. Long Building, yes, that made sense. He searched again, found "Chapman Arthur J. atty," with a Paseo address.

Wait till tomorrow? No harm in seeing if Justin had the correct answers. He slid a nickel to the -desk clerk, asked for the Bell telephone.

"Number, please!"

"Central, please give me Atwater one-two-two-four."

"Hello? Is this the home of Mr. Arthur J. Chapman, the attorney?"

"This is he."

"Mr. Ira Howard told me to call you, Counselor."

"Interesting. Who are you?"

"'Life is short.'"

"'But the years are long,'" the lawyer answered.

"'Not "While the Evil Days come not."'"

"Very well. What can I do for you, sir? Trouble?"

"No, sir. Will you accept an envelope to be delivered to the secretary of the Foundation?"

"Yes. Can you bring it to my office?"

"Tomorrow morning, sir?"

"Say about nine thirty. I must be in court by ten."

"Thank you, sir; I'll be there. Good night."

"You are welcome. Good night to you, sir."

There was a writing desk in the lobby, with another notice to see the desk clerk, along with a homily: "Have you Written to Your Mother This Week?" Lazarus asked for a sheet of paper and an envelope, saying (truthfully) that he wanted to write home, The clerk gave them to him. "That's what we like to hear, Mr. Jenkins. Sure one sheet is enough?"

"If not, I'll ask for another. Thanks."

After breakfast (coffee and a doughnut, five cents) Lazarus located a stationery shop on Grand Avenue and invested fifteen cents in five envelopes that would nest in series, went back to the Y and prepared them, then delivered them by hand to Mr. Chapman-despite pursed-lip disapproval of Mr. Chapman's secretary.

The outer envelope read: Secretary of the Ira Howard Foundation.

The next one read: To the Secretary of the Howard Families' Association as of the year 2100 A.D.

The next one read: Please hold in the Families' Archives for One Thousand Years. Inert atmosphere recommended.

The fourth read: To be opened by the Chief Archivist in Office in Gregorian year 4291.

The fifth envelope read: Please deliver on request to Lazarus Long or to any member of his Tertius Colony family.

Inside this envelope was the envelope from the Y.M.C.A. enclosing the note Lazarus had written the night before; the -envelope had on it all the names of his Boondock family, with Lapis Lazuli and Lorelei Lee heading the list:

"4 August 1916 Greg,

"Darlings,

"I goofed. I arrived two days ago-three years early! But I still want you to pick me up exactly ten T-years after you dropped me, at the impact crater, i.e. 2 August 1926 Gregorian.

"Please assure Dora that this is not her fault. It is either mine, or Andy's-or perhaps the instruments we had available then were not sufficiently accurate. If Dora wants to recalibrate (not necessary, as exactly ten T-years from drop remains the rendezvous), tell her to get eclipses of Sol by Luna for this ten years from Athene- I haven't had time to look them up as I have just reached Kansas City.