to their necks. There's a beaver the size of a bear.'
'Fakes,' said Amberly, disgusted. 'Clever gadgets. Camera angles.'
'That's what we thought first, but there are no gadgets, no camera angles. This is the real McCoy.'
'I'm on my way,' the paleontologist said, hanging up.
II
President Wesley Adams and Secretary of State John Cooper sat glumly under a tree in the capital of Mastodonia and waited for the ambassador extraordinary to return.
'I tell you, Wes,' said Cooper, who, under various pseudonyms, was also the secretaries of commerce, treasury and war, 'this is a crazy thing we did. What if Chuck can't get back? They might throw him in jail or something might happen to the time unit or the helicopter. We should have gone along.'
'We had to stay,' Adams said. 'You know what would happen to this camp and our supplies if we weren't around here to guard them.'
'The only thing that's given us any trouble is that old mastodon. If he comes around again, I'm going to take a skillet and bang him in the brisket.'
'That isn't the only reason, either,' said President Adams, 'and you know it. We can't go deserting this nation now that we've created it. We have to keep possession. Just planting a flag and saying it's ours wouldn't be enough. We might be called upon for proof that we've established residence. Something like the old homestead laws, you know.'
'We'll establish residence sure enough,' growled Secretary Cooper, 'if something happens to that time unit or the helicopter.'
'You think they'll do it, Johnny?'
'Who do what?'
'The United States. Do you think they'll recognize us?'
'Not if they know who we are.'
'That's what I'm afraid of.'
'Chuck will talk them into it. He can talk the skin right off a cat.'
'Sometimes I think we're going at this wrong. Sure, Chuck's got the long-range view and I suppose it's best. But maybe what we ought to do is grab a good, fast profit and get out of here. We could take in hunting parties at ten thousand a head or maybe we could lease it to a movie company.'
'We can do all that and do it legally and with full protection,' Cooper told him, 'if we can get ourselves recognized as a sovereign nation. If we negotiate a mutual defense pact, no one would dare get hostile because we could squawk to Uncle Sam.'
'All you say is true,' Adams agreed, 'but there are going to be questions. It isn't just a matter of walking into Washington and getting recognition. They'll want to know about us, such as our population. What if Chuck has to tell them it's a total of three persons?'
Cooper shook his head. 'He wouldn't answer that way, Wes. He'd duck the question or give them some diplomatic double-talk. After all, how can we be
'You know well enough, Johnny, there are no other humans back here in North America. The farthest back any scientist will place the migrations from Asia is 30,000 years. They haven't got here yet.'
'Maybe we should have done it differently,' mused Cooper. 'Maybe we should have included the whole world in our proclamation, not just the continent. That way, we could claim quite a population.'
'It wouldn't have held water. Even as it is, we went a little further than precedent allows. The old explorers usually laid claim to certain watersheds. They'd find a river and lay claim to all the territory drained by the river. They didn't go grabbing off whole continents.'
'That's because they were never sure of exactly what they had,' said Cooper. 'We are. We have what you might call the advantage of hindsight.'
He leaned back against the tree and stared across the land. It was a pretty place, he thought—the rolling ridges covered by vast grazing areas and small groves, the forest-covered, ten-mile river valley. And everywhere one looked, the grazing herds of mastodon, giant bison and wild horses, with the less gregarious fauna scattered hit and miss.
Old Buster, the troublesome mastodon, a lone bull which had been probably run out of a herd by a younger rival, stood at the edge of a grove a quarter-mile away. He had his head down and was curling and uncurling his trunk in an aimless sort of way while he teetered slowly in a lazy-crazy fashion by lifting first one foot and then another.
The old cuss was lonely, Cooper told himself. That was why he hung around like a homeless dog—except that he was too big and awkward to have much pet-appeal and, more than likely, his temper was unstable.
The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm and the air, it seemed to Cooper, was the freshest he had ever smelled. It was, altogether, a very pleasant place, an Indian-summer sort of land, ideal for a Sunday picnic or a camping trip.
The breeze was just enough to float out from its flagstaff before the tent the national banner of Mastodonia —a red rampant mastodon upon a field of green.
'You know, Johnny,' said Adams, 'there's one thing that worries me a lot. If we're going to base our claim on precedent, we may be way off base. The old explorers always claimed their discoveries for their nations or their king, never for themselves.'
'The principle was entirely different,' Cooper told him. 'Nobody ever did anything for himself in those days. Everyone was always under someone else's protection. The explorers either were financed by their governments or were sponsored by them or operated under a royal charter or a patent. With us, it's different. Ours is a private enterprise. You dreamed up the time unit and built it. The three of us chipped in to buy the helicopter. We've paid all of our expenses out of our own pockets. We never got a dime from anyone. What we found is ours.'
'I hope you're right,' said Adams uneasily.
Old Buster had moved out from the grove and was shuffling warily toward the camp. Adams picked up the rifle that lay across his knees.
'Wait,' said Cooper sharply. 'Maybe he's just bluffing. It would be a shame to plaster him; he's such a nice old guy.'
Adams half raised the rifle.
'I'll give him three steps more,' he announced. 'I've had enough of him.'
Suddenly a roar burst out of the air just above their heads. The two leaped to their feet.
'It's Chuck!' Cooper yelled. 'He's back!'
The helicopter made a half-turn of the camp and came rapidly to Earth.
Trumpeting with terror, Old Buster was a dwindling dot far down the grassy ridge.
III
They built the nightly fires circling the camp to keep out the animals.
'It'll be the death of me yet,' said Adams wearily, 'cutting all this wood.'
'We have to get to work on that stockade,' Cooper said. 'We've fooled around too long. Some night, fire or no fire, a herd of mastodon will come busting in here and if they ever hit the helicopter, we'll be dead ducks. It wouldn't take more than just five seconds to turn us into Robinson Crusoes of the Pleistocene.'
