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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 1963, renewed 1991 by Jay Williams & Raymond Abrashkin.
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Published by Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidepress.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book is for John Atwood, Jr., a real scientist, who is at least partly responsible for the Chronocycle.
CHAPTER ONE
The Locked Door
Mrs. Dunn, like all mothers, had a magical ear. She could hear her son Danny grumbling on the other side of a solid wall; she could hear him not getting up in the morning; once in a while she could even hear him thinking.
On this particular sunny April afternoon, as she did her ironing in the kitchen, she heard a series of noises which would have puzzled or startled a stranger but which she understood at once. First there was a CRASH which shook the house. Then a scuffling sound. Then a series of thuds. Then a low growling which grew louder and which finally became Danny himself, in the kitchen doorway.
He ran a hand through his coppery red hair, and said glumly, “H’lo, Mom.”
Mrs. Dunn eyed her son’s freckled face. Usually, it was rosy and cheerful, but today his lips drooped and his blue eyes were clouded.
She said, “There are some fresh butterscotch-nut cookies in the pantry. They’ll cheer you up. I’m sure you’ll pass the history test without any trouble. After all, this is Friday; you’ve got the whole weekend for studying.”
Danny stared at his mother with admiration. “Gosh, Mom, you’re fantastic,” he said. “How do you do it? How’d you know I have a history test on Monday?”
“It’s very simple,” his mother replied, deftly ironing a shirt collar. “But I’m not sure I ought to give away motherly secrets. First, you slammed the front door behind you. I knew at once that something was bothering you. You dragged your feet over to the hall table and dumped your schoolbooks on it one at a time. Then I knew it had something to do with school, because you only bring home lots of books when you have weekend homework to do. Next, I heard you mumble, ‘Rats! First Continental Congress. Second Continental Congress. Rats, rats, rats!’ That told me the rest of the tale.”
Danny laughed. “Pretty smooth,” he said. Then his face grew gloomy once more. “Darn old history anyway,” he said. “I hate that subject. Why do they have to teach it?”
“Better hurry up and get yourself a couple of cookies,” his mother advised. “You sound to me as though your brain is giving way. How could you be educated without knowing something about the history of the human race?”
Danny dug into the crock in the pantry and brought out two large, soft, still-warm cookies. He poured himself a glass of milk and sat down at the kitchen table.
“Mmm,” he said, dreamily. “I love the smell of fresh cookies and the smell of fresh ironing. I guess you’re right. We do have to learn some history. But it’s so dull—all those names and dates.”
“Funny,” said Mrs. Dunn, sprinkling a little water over another shirt. “When I was a girl I used to think the same thing about mathematics. All those numbers!”
“But that’s different,” Danny protested. “Math is fun. It’s almost as much fun as physics, or electronics.”
Mrs. Dunn chuckled, pressing the hot iron into the shirt sleeves. “It’s all a matter of taste,” she said.
Danny shook his head. “No,” he replied, “science is real. And all that history stuff is dead and gone. That’s why it’s not interesting.”
“You talk it over with Professor Bullfinch,” said Mrs. Dunn, with a smile. “I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way.”
Danny’s father had died when Dan was only a baby, and Mrs. Dunn, to support herself, had taken the job of housekeeper to the famous scientist Euclid Bullfinch. Although Professor Bullfinch devoted part of his time to teaching at Midston University, he was able to do a considerable amount of private research and had his own well-equipped laboratory built onto the back of his house. He had grown very fond of Danny and had taught him a great deal about science. Between the boy and the kindly, thoughtful man a deep affection, almost like that of father and son, had grown up over the years.
Danny rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Is the Professor still locked in his laboratory?” he asked, in a low voice.
Mrs. Dunn nodded. “He came out for a few minutes this morning and had some coffee, but I haven’t seen him all the rest of the day. I brought him some lunch and he told me to leave it outside the door. He never touched it.”
“It isn’t like him to be so secretive,” Danny mused. “He usually tells us what he’s working on.”
“I don’t think he’s being secretive,” said Mrs. Dunn, folding up the last of her ironing. “It’s just that he’s working so hard on this new project, I think he’s forgotten everything else.”
She put her hand gently on her son’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll tell you about it when he’s ready,” she said. “Meanwhile, you’d better start preparing for that test.”
“Yes, yes, that’s what I’m doing,” said the Professor’s voice. He had wandered into the room and stood beaming rather vacantly at them.
“I was looking for a cup of coffee,” he said. “You left some lunch for me outside the lab door, but the coffee was cold. Really, Mrs. Dunn, I’m surprised at you. Ice-cold coffee—?”
She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “Euclid Bullfinch,” she said, sternly, “that tray was left outside your door over four hours ago.”
“It was? Dear me. I thought it was only a few minutes since you knocked.”
He turned to go. Mrs. Dunn said, “Don’t you want that coffee?”
Professor Bullfinch passed a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m rather scatterbrained today.”
Generally, the Professor was anything but absent-minded. A jolly, plump man with a round, mild face, he usually had a bright, alert look. But now it was clear something was absorbing all his concentration.
He took the coffee Mrs. Dunn handed him and began to stir it, although he had not yet put any sugar or cream into it. Still stirring, he said, “I didn’t realize you knew I was nearly ready to test my apparatus.”
“It was Danny’s test we were talking about,” said Mrs. Dunn.
“Oh, really? What are you testing, Dan?”
“I’m not testing anything, Professor,” Danny replied. “I’m going to be tested.”
“Heavens! Are you part of an experiment?”
Danny burst out laughing. “It’s a history test. In school.”
“Yes, and he’s complaining that history is dull,” said Mrs. Dunn. “He thinks because something happened a few hundred years ago, it isn’t
