“I dislike arguing with you,” Masterson said, spreading his palm wide. “You don’t know what the deuce you’re talking about!”
Arthur got to his feet and a wild light danced in his eyes. “Masterson…” he started, and then Pete yelled.
“A cave man!”
For a second Chuck thought Pete had taken Masterson’s side and was throwing a slur at Arthur. One look at the cook, though, told him he had been mistaken. Pete was standing on his feet, his eyes wide with shock, his face pale against his splotchy freckles. One arm was outstretched, and the pointing finger trembled as it stabbed the air, indicating a fringe-covered outcropping of high rocks.
“A cave man,” he repeated, his voice excited. “I saw one. I saw one. Over there. On the rocks.” He unslung his rifle and pulled back the bolt.
Chuck leaped to his feet instantly, putting his hand on Pete’s arm. He could feel the man still trembling.
“Take it easy,” he said. “You’re letting all this talk get you. There are no cave men in Jurassic times.”
“I saw one,” Pete insisted. “A shaggy man with a beard, and… and hairy legs. Right on top of those rocks.”
“That’s impossible,” Chuck said mildly.
“Maybe it ain’t so impossible,” Gardel put in. “Maybe the scientists are all wet. Maybe there are cave men in these times.”
“Come on,” Chuck shouted to Pete. He began running toward the rocks, the cook close behind him.
“Be careful!” Arthur shouted.
Chuck nodded, and he felt his heart start its infernal thumping against his ribs again.
Deliberately, he slid the .45 from its holster at his waist and gripped the walnut stock tightly.
He did not for an instant believe that Pete had seen a cave man. Chuck had too much respect for science to believe that its theories could have been so grossly inaccurate. He did not doubt, however, that Pete had seen a man. Pete’s eyes were certainly as good as anyone’s, and he could tell a man from a dinosaur the same way anyone else could in broad daylight. He was not too happy about Pete’s discovery, though.
“He went this way,” Pete said, breathing hard alongside Chuck. “See his tracks?”
Chuck nodded, making his way through the foliage, his palm sweating against the gun butt.
Tempomaniac.
The word popped into Chuck’s mind, and he could not dislodge it. Tempomaniacs were dangerous people. They were the borderline schizophrenics of his own time. Instead of leaping all the way into the nontrespassable reaches of insanity, they chose escape in another form. When the demands of society became too great, they left society, seeking refuge and asylum in the uncluttered past. Tempomania was a serious criminal offense. The offender could not plead complete insanity because there were tests that would immediately establish his normality. And the government
A tempomaniac confronted with capture, therefore, was almost like a cornered wild animal. If this man Pete had seen turned out to be a tempo… Chuck shuddered at the thought.
“There he goes!” Pete shouted.
Chuck looked up instantly, and this time he saw the man, too. He was built heavily, with shaggy brown hair and a flowing brown beard. He turned for a moment, and his eyes glared fiercely in his frightened, pale face.
“Stop!” Chuck shouted.
The man turned and fled, scrambling over the rocks like a frightened creature of the woods. His fingers scrabbled wildly, and he pushed himself upward, almost on all fours. The face of the outcropping was dotted with small, tunnel-like caves. The man climbed the sheer, angled rock with practiced skill, darting into one of the deep holes in its face.
“He went into one of the caves,” Pete said. He was holding the rifle tightly in his hands, and his mouth was drawn across his face in a tight line.
“I think he’s a tempo,” Chuck said tersely.
Pete sounded disappointed. “Not a cave man?”
“No. There’s no such thing in Jurassic times, Pete.”
“A tempo, huh? That’s not so good.”
“No. In fact, it’s bad.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’ll have to try to take him.”
“Why?”
Chuck turned to Pete in surprise. “What do you mean,
“Why not leave him here? I’m not anxious to meet my Maker, Chuck.”
“He’s a criminal,” Chuck said firmly. “If we left him here, we’d be helping him.”
Pete seemed to consider this for a moment. “I hadn’t looked at it that way,” he said.
“Are you with me then?”
“I’m with you. What’s our next move?”
“Let’s get closer to the cave.”
Together, almost like reptiles themselves, they crawled on their bellies until they were only several feet away from the mouth of the cave. There they lay flat on the angular rock.
“What now?” Pete whispered.
For answer, Chuck lifted his .45 and fired a shot into the air. The echoes of the shot bounded over the steep rock surface, spread over the land and then died away.
“We know you’re in there,” Chuck called.