Doc Champ and I looked dumbly at each other. And then we stared at Rog Tanlu. Grinning like a magician who has just pulled a fancy trick, he held that ray-gun out for us to look at.
"What did you mean when you said you had called us?" asked Doc Champ, in that quiet way of his.
"I had to get in communication with someone in this Age—someone who could understand," said Rog Tanlu. "I chose you" (he was, of course, speaking to Doc Champ) "because of your training and comprehension of the Past. So I called you with the psycho-coil on the audio-visiscope, by which means mental suggestions may be conveyed."
Doc Champ swallowed hard. "What country are you from?"
"Iralnard," said Rog Tanlu. "A nation which does not exist on earth today, but which was contemporary with the beginning of the last Ice Age. At that time my people occupied this very land. I am, as you might say, a refugee from the Ice Age—the first to come through. But I believe that others will follow. A number of my people. This possible migration cannot help but result in discord with the present holders of the land, unless some friendly agreement can be established. So I called you."
By this time I was up to my ears. I grabbed Doc Champ's arm.
"Doc," I groaned, "are we awake? Is this guy joking? Or what's the answer?"
Doc pushed me away.
"I shall make everything clear," said Rog Tanlu.
"Let's get this straight," insisted Doc Champ. "You say you are a refugee from the Ice Age? But that was some five hundred thousand years ago. And you are in possession of at least two instruments of advanced science. It doesn't match up."