Hank said, "Now, ca'm down, Jim. It ain't like you to act thisaway. They ain't no cause for alarm."
"That's what they told Mrs. O'Leary when she bought a cow," I moaned, "only look what happened!" Then suddenly I remembered our conversation of a few nights ago, and I choked on my own incredulous words. "Hank—that's not it? Tell me it's not a—a time-machine?"
Horsesense Hank grinned and tugged at a straggling wisp of hair.
"Wa-a-all, I reckon I could tell you that, Jim, but it wouldn't be whut you mought call the truth. 'Cause that's jest whut it is. The machine that's gonna carry us back into the past to prove my theories!"
I said, "It's a time-machine," weakly. "A—a time-machine," I said—and then the double-take struck me. "Us!" I howled. "Us! Into the past? Oh, no! Gangway, pal—"
Hank grabbed me and held on tight. He's about four inches taller than I am, and dawn-to-dusk workouts behind the plow built him muscles like tension springs. My legs churned air, and I got nowhere. Hank said aggrievedly, "Now, Jim—I never thought you'd let me down like this—"
"Talking about letting down," I bleated, "how about me? Who's holding who? Leggo, Hank! I just remembered, I'm supposed to meet a guy about four thousand miles from here!"
"Now, durn it, you got to come with me!" said Hank. "It wouldn't do me no good to go gallivantin' off to the past by myself. I got to have witnesses. I'll have this machine all finished by tomorrow—"
Then it wasn't completed yet! That was a horse of a different collar. I stopped struggling. I said, "Will you be kind enough to take your greasy paws off me, you dope! My goodness, you act as if I were afraid of something!" I moved over to the machine, studied it with pacified interest. "How does it work?" I asked.