by Various
"What do we do?"
"Take it easy," advised George. "Don't look scared and don't look belligerent. Look friendly and hope some of the modern Indian dialects we know can make connection with them."
* * * * *
The two scientists began, at a gradual pace, to make their way toward the old man, the young man, and the girl. As they approached, the girl drew back slightly. The young man reached over his shoulder and from the furred quiver slung on his back drew an atlatl lance and fitted it to his throwing stick, holding it ready. The other warriors, all about, followed suit.
The medicine man alone stepped forward. He held up a short colored stick to which bright feathers were attached and shook it at the two white men. They stopped.
"That's his aspergill," observed Sidney. "I'd like to have that one."
The medicine man spoke. At first the scientists were puzzled, then George told Sidney, "That's Pima, or pretty close to it, just pronounced differently. It probably shows we were right in thinking the Pimas descended from these people. He wants to know who we are."
George gave their names. The medicine man replied, "The man who has white skin instead of red speaks our language in a strange way. I am Huk." He turned to the young man at his side and said, "This is Good Fox, our young chief." He indicated the girl. "That is Moon Water, his wife."
George explained what he and the other white man with him were doing here. Huk, along with all the other Indians, including Good Fox and Moon Water, listened intently; they seemed greatly excited and disturbed.
When George was finished Good Fox turned to Huk and said, "You have succeeded, wise one, in bringing us forward, far in the future to the time of these men with white skins."
"This is the truth," said the wrinkled Huk; he did not boast but rather seemed awed.
Moon Water spoke in a frightened tone. She looked about at the partially excavated ruins and asked, "But what has happened to our village?" She faltered, "Is this the way it will look in the future?"
"It is the way," Good Fox informed her sorrowfully.
"I weep for our people," she said. "I do not want to see it." She hung her pretty face over her bare body, then, in a moment, raised it resolutely.
Good Fox shook the long scraggly black hair away from his eyes and told the white men, "We did not mean to harm you. We did not know what else to do upon finding you here and our village buried."
Ignoring that in his excited interest, Sidney asked, "What year are you?"
"Year?" asked Good Fox. "What is this word?"
Both Sidney and George tried to get over to him what year meant in regard to a date in history, but Good Fox, Huk, and Moon Water, and none of the others could understand.
"We do not know what you mean," Huk said. "We know only that we live here in this village--not as you see it now--but one well built and alive with our people. As the medicine man I am known to have extra power and magic in visions. Often I have wondered what life would be like in the far future. With this group I conjured up a vision of it, carrying them and myself to what is now here before us."
George and Sidney glanced at each other. George's lips twitched and those of Sidney trembled. George said softly to the Indians, "Let us be friends." He explained to them what they were doing here. "We are trying to find out what you were--are--like. Especially what made you desert people leave your villages."
They looked blank. Huk said, "But we have not left--except in this vision."
In an aside to George, Sidney said, "That means we've caught them before they went south or wherever they went." He turned back to Huk. "Have the cliff people yet deserted their dwellings?"
Huk nodded solemnly. "They have gone. Some of them have joined us here, and more have gone to other villages."
"We have read that into the remains of your people, especially at Casa Grande," Sidney told him. With rising excitement in his voice he asked, "Can you tell us why they left?"
Huk nodded. "This I can do."
Now the glance of Sidney and George at each other was quick, their eyes lighting.
"I'll take it down on the typewriter," Sidney said. "Think of it! Now we'll know."
He led Huk to the table set in front of the tent, where he brought out a portable typewriter and opened and set it up. He sat on one chair, and Huk, gingerly holding his aspergill before him as though to protect himself, sat on the other.
Good Fox, Moon Water and the other Indians crowded about, curious to see the machine that came alive under Sidney's fingers as Huk began to relate his story. Soon their interest wandered in favor of other things about the two men with white skin. They wanted to know about the machine with four legs.
George opened up the hood of the station wagon and showed them the engine. He sat in the car and started the motor. At the noise the Indians jumped back, alarmed, and reaching for their atlatls. Moon Water approached the rear end of the car. Her pretty nose wrinkled at the fumes coming from it and she choked, drawing back in disgust. "It is trying to kill me," she said.
Clearly, she did not approve of an automobile.
George cut off its engine.
Over Good Fox's shoulder hung a small clay water jug hung in a plaited yucca net. George asked for a drink from it and when he tasted it and found it fresh it was wondrous to him that its water was hundreds of years old. He brought out a thermos, showing the Indians the modern version of carrying water. They tasted of its contents and exclaimed at its coolness. Good Fox held the thermos, admiring it.
"Would you like to have it?" asked George.
"You would give it to me?" the handsome young Indian asked.
"It's yours."
"Then I give you mine." He gave George his clay water jug and could not know how much more valuable it was than the thermos.
George then took them to the portable television set and turned it on. When faces, music, and words appeared the Indians jerked back, then jabbered and gathered closer to watch. A girl singer, clad in a gown that came up to her neck, caused Moon Water to inquire, "Why does she hide herself? Is she ashamed?"
The standards of modesty, George reflected as he glanced at the lovely nude form of the prehistoric Indian girl, change with the ages.
Of the people and noises on the TV screen Good Fox wanted to know quite solemnly, "Are these crazy people? Is it the way you treat your people who go crazy?"
George laughed. "You might say it's something like that."
A shout came from Sidney at the card table near the tent where he was taking down Huk's story. "George! He's just told me why the cliff people left! And why the desert people will have to leave in time. It's a reason we never thought of! It's because--"
Just then a big multi-engined plane came over, drowning out his words. The Indians stared skyward, now in great alarm. They looked about for a place to run and hide, but there was none. They held their hands over their ears and glanced fearfully at the TV which now spluttered, its picture and sound thrown off by the plane. Awesomely, they waited until the plane went over.
"We fly now in machines with wings," George explained.
"To make such a noise in the air," Moon Water said, "is wicked, destroying all peace."
"I'll agree with you there," said George.
"You have this," Good Fox observed, indicating the TV, which was now back to normal, "and you send the other through the sky to make it crazier than before." He shook his head, not comprehending.
George shut off the TV. He took up a camera of the kind that automatically finishes a picture in a minute's time. Grouping Good Fox, Moon Water and the other warriors, he took their picture, waited, then pulled it out and showed it to them.
They cried out, one man shouting in fear, "It is great magic!"
George took a number of photographs, including several of Huk as he sat talking with Sidney. No matter what happened he would have this record as Sidney would have that he was taking down on the typewriter.
Next he showed them a pair of binoculars, teac
hing them how to look through them. They exclaimed and Good Fox said, "With this we could see our enemies before they see us."
"You have enemies?" George asked.
"The Apache," Good Fox said fiercely.
George handed him the binoculars. "It is yours to use against the Apache."
Solemnly the young chief answered, "The man with white skin is thanked. The red man gives in return his atlatl and lances." He held out his throwing stick and unslung his quiver of lances. George accepted them with thanks; they would be museum pieces.
Finally George showed them a rifle. He looked about for game and after some searching saw a rabbit sitting on a mound in the excavations. As he took aim Good Fox asked, "You would hunt it with your stick?"
George nodded.
"This cannot be done from here," stated one warrior.
George squeezed the trigger. Instantaneously with the explosion of the shell the rabbit jumped high and then came down, limp and dead. The Indians yelled with fright and ran off in all directions. Huk jumped up from the table. Then all stopped and cautiously returned. One went to the rabbit and picked it up, bringing it back. All, including Huk who left the table, stared with fright at it and at the rifle.
Moon Water expressed their opinion of it. "The thunder of the killing stick is evil."
"Moon Water speaks the truth," said Huk.
"It would make hunting easy," said Good Fox, "but we do not want it even if given to us."
He drew back from the rifle, and the others edged away from it.
George put it down.
Sidney held up a sheaf of papers. "I've got it all, George," he said exultantly in English, "right here! I asked Huk if they can stay with us in our time, at least for a while. We can study them more, maybe even take them back to show the world."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't have a chance to reply when you shot the rifle."
George put it formally to the Indians, addressing Huk, Good Fox, Moon Water and the rest. "You have seen something of the modern world. We would like you to stay in it if it is your wish. I don't know how long you could stay in Huk's vision, but if you can remain here permanently and not go back to your time and--well, not being alive there any more--we hope you will consider this."
Huk replied, "It is possible that we could stay in your time, at least as long as my vision lasts, which might be for as long as I lived." He glanced at Good Fox.
The young chief in turn looked at Moon Water. Her gaze went to the station wagon, to the TV, then up at the sky where the plane had appeared, at the rifle, the camera, the thermos, and all else of the white man. She seemed to weigh their values and disadvantages, looking dubious and doubtful.
Good Fox announced, "We will hold a council about it. As is our custom, all have words to say about such a thing."
Abruptly he led his people away, into the excavations and over a slight rise of ground, behind which they disappeared.
Sidney murmured, "I don't like that so much."
"They must do as they want." George led the way to the card table and they sat there. On it rested Huk's aspergill.
"He gave it to me," Sidney explained.
George placed Good Fox's netted clay water jug and his atlatl and furred quiver of lances on the table, together with the pictures he had taken of the ancient Indians. They waited.
Sidney, glancing at the low hill behind which the Indians had gone, said, "What they're doing is choosing between living in modern civilization and remaining dead. What do you think they'll do?"
"I don't know," said George. "They didn't think so much of us."
"But they couldn't choose death and complete oblivion!"
"We'll see."
They waited some more.
"At least," said Sidney, indicating the articles on the table, "we'll have these for evidence." He held up the sheaf of papers containing Huk's story. "And this, giving the real reason the cliff dwellers left. I haven't told you what it was, George. It's so simple that--"
He didn't complete his sentence, for just then Huk, Good Fox, Moon Water, and the other warriors made their choice. It was announced dramatically.
The water jug, the aspergill, and the atlatl and quiver of lances disappeared from the table. In their places, suddenly, there were the thermos and the binoculars.
Sidney stared stupidly at them.
George said quietly, "They've gone back."
"But they can't do this!" George protested.
"They have."
Sidney's hand shook as he picked up the sheaf of papers holding Huk's story. Indicating it and the photographs, he said, "Well, they haven't taken these away."
"Haven't they?" asked George. He picked up some of the pictures. "Look."
Sidney looked and saw that the pictures were now blank. His glance went quickly to the typewritten sheets of paper in his hands. He cried out and then shuffled them frantically.
They, too, were blank.
Sidney jumped up. "I don't care!" he exclaimed. "He told me and I've got it here!" He pointed to his head. "I can remember it, anyway."
"Can you?" asked George.
"Why, certainly I can," Sidney asserted confidently. "The reason the cliff dwellers left, George, was that they ..." Sidney stopped.
"What's the matter, Sid?"
"Well, I--it--I guess it just slipped my mind for a second." His brow puckered. He looked acutely upset and mystified. "Huk told me," he faltered. "Just a minute ago I was thinking of it when I started to tell you. Now ... I can't remember."
"That's gone, too."
"I'll get it!" Sidney declared. "I've just forgotten it for a minute. I'll remember!"
"No," said George, "you won't."
Sidney looked around. "There must be something left." He thought. "The atlatl lances they shot at us!" He looked at the U-Haul-It. The lances no longer stuck in its side. Nor were those that had fallen to the ground to be seen.
Sidney sat down again, heavily. "We had it all," he moaned. "Everything we'd been working for. And now ..."
"Now we'll have to dig for it again," said George. "Do it the hard way. We'll start tomorrow when the workmen come."
Sidney looked up. "There's one thing!" he cried. "The dent in the car made by the lance! It's still there, George! However everything else worked, that was forgotten. It's still there!"
George glanced at the dent in the side panel of the station wagon. "It's still there," he agreed. "But only to tell us this wasn't a dream. No one else would believe it wasn't caused by a rock."
George groaned. He stared at the rise of ground behind which the Indians had disappeared. "Huk," he pleaded. "Good Fox. Moon Water. The others. Come back, come back ..."
No one appeared over the rise of ground as the cool desert night began to close in.
* * *
Contents
MR. CHIPFELLOW'S JACKPOT
by Dick Purcell
"I'm getting old," Sam Chipfellow said, "and old men die."
His words were an indirect answer to a question from Carter Hagen, his attorney. The two men were standing in an open glade, some distance from Sam Chipfellow's mansion at Chipfellow's Folly, this being the name Sam himself had attached to his huge estate.
Sam lived there quite alone except for visits from relatives and those who claimed to be relatives. He needed no servants nor help of any kind because the mansion was completely automatic. Sam did not live alone from choice, but he was highly perceptive and it made him uncomfortable to have relatives around with but one thought in their minds: When are you going to die and leave me some money?
Of course, the relatives could hardly be blamed for entertaining this thought. It came as naturally as breathing because Sam Chipfellow was one of those rare individuals--a scientist who had made money; all kinds of money; more money than almost anybody. And after all, his relatives were no different than those of any other rich man. They felt they had rights.
Sam was known as The Genius of the Space Age, an a
pt title because there might not have been any space without him. He had been extremely versatile during his long career, having been responsible for the so-called eternal metals--metal against which no temperature, corrosive, or combinations of corrosives would prevail. He was also the pioneer of telepower, the science of control over things mechanical through the electronic emanations of thought waves. Because of his investigations into this power, men were able to direct great ships by merely "thinking" them on their proper courses.
These were only two of his contributions to progress, there being many others. And now, Sam was facing the mystery neither he nor any other scientist had ever been able to solve.
Mortality.
There was a great deal of activity near the point at which the men stood. Drills and rock cutters had formed three sides of an enclosure in a ridge of solid rock, and now a giant crane was lowering thick slabs of metal to form the walls. Nearby, waiting to be placed, lay the slab which would obviously become the door to whatever Sam was building. Its surface was entirely smooth, but it bore great hinges and some sort of a locking device was built in along one edge.
Carter Hagen watched the activity and considered Sam's reply to his question. "Then this is to be a mausoleum?"
Sam chuckled. "Only in a sense. Not a place to house my dead bones if that's what you mean."
Carter Hagen, understanding this lonely old man as he did, knew further questions would be useless. Sam was like that. If he wanted you to know something, he told you.
So Carter held his peace and they returned to the mansion where Sam gave him a drink after they concluded the business he had come on.
Sam also gave Carter something else--an envelope. "Put that in your safe, Carter. You're comparatively young. I'm taking it for granted you will survive me."
"And this is--?"
"My will. All old men should leave wills and I'm no exception to the rule. When I'm dead, open it and read what's inside."