Horn's broad thick body quivered as he loosed a volcanic chuckle.
"I know," he said. "And the oceans, big though they are, are probably very shallow. A thousand feet at the most. Water will be growing precious."
"But," puzzled Orth, "why are there no cities and why have the continents changed so little? Surely three million years...."
"I'd say the inhabitants of those small globes near the sun," suggested Horn, "are descendants of Earthmen. They have used their superb command of science to make of Earth a beautiful park or preserve as it was in our own primitive age.
"Surely, if they have such knowledge, they can give us the secret of atomic control that will overcome the sterility threatening mankind. We cannot return now to the limited culture afforded by the lesser power-sources of coal or gas without great damage to civilization—perhaps its utter downfall."
"They have it all right," said Orth, scowling down at the open parklike meadow toward which Horn was blasting, "but I'm worried about getting back. So far this time travel is simply negation—outside the Time Bubble three million years pass and to us it seems less than two hours."
Horn thrummed the landing jets smoothly and laughed his deep booming bellow. The grassy glade came up to meet them.
"A minor detail," he said as he cut the jets and the ship jolted abruptly to an uneven grounding. The deck was slightly tilted and from below there sounded a muffled explosion.
"You all right, Neilson?" shouted Orth into the intercom.
The third member of their crew sounded breathless as he answered from the power compartment.