"Of course."
"Then where is this machine?"
"Back there in the forest—the forest! The fire! It may have reached it—" Kahl plucked at Schwinzog's coatsleeve. "You must save my invention—"
The other shook him off. "When I see it I will save it."
"Come, then! Quick!"
The fire had rolled farther into the forest; everywhere the evergreens were burning like torches. Sparks rained down from overhead as they approached the time traveler's resting place, and directly ahead the thicket was a sheet of flame. From Kahl came a wounded cry; he broke from the guards and dashed forward. Then he stopped as if he had run into a stone wall.
The soldiers closed up, weapons thrusting.
"But this is the place!" Kahl was muttering feverishly. "It was right there—" He pointed at the bare, smoldering grass.
The ten-foot metal cube of the time traveler had burned to feathery ash and drifted away on the breeze—or it had in some no less unbelievable fashion vanished utterly.