"But one of him is dead!"

"Well," said Oop, "as far as we were concerned, there was never more than one of him. And maybe this is better. Imagine the embarrassing situations that could develop if there were two of him."

Carol turned to Maxwell. "And you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "In a day or two, I'll take some serious thought of it. Right now, I guess, I'm putting off thinking about it. To tell you the truth, when I do think about it, I get a little numb. But tonight a pretty girl and two old friends and a great big pussy cat and a bottle of liquor to get rid of and later on some food."

He grinned at her. She shrugged.

"I never saw such a crazy bunch," she said. "I believe I like it."

"I like it, too," said Oop. "Say whatever you will of it, this civilization of yours is a vast improvement over the days of yore: It was the luckiest day of my life when a Time team snatched me hence just at the point when some of my loving brother tribesmen were about to make a meal of me. Not that I blame them particularly, you understand. It had been a long, hard winter and the snow was deep and the game had been very scarce. And there were certain members of the tribe who felt they had a score or two to settle with me-and I'll not kid you; they may have had a score. I was about to be knocked upon the head and, so to speak, dumped into the pot."

"Cannibalism!" Carol said, horrified.

"Why, naturally," he told her. "In those rough and ready days, it was quite acceptable. But, of course, you wouldn't understand. You've never been really hungry, I take it. Gut hungry. So shriveled up with hunger-"

He halted his talk and looked around.

"The thing that is most comforting about this culture " he declared, "is the abundance of the food. Back in the old days we had our ups and downs. We'd bag a mastodon and we'd eat until we vomited and then we'd eat some more and-"