ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS
Crusoe could remember only one thing—that
somewhere near some deadly danger
threatened him! He had no way of knowing
what it was, or why he was in the swamp.
Then he found he could work miracles!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Science Fiction Adventures Magazine, February 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He had a feeling that there was something he had to remember, somethingurgent, something that had to do with danger. But it was hard to thinkof it, it was hard to think at all. There was a dullness in his headas if he had been too long asleep. And now that he had awakened atlast, he did not know for the moment where he was. He would realize, ofcourse, once he shook himself and straightened out his mind. But so farhe did not know. Nothing was familiar.
It was dark, and in the background he saw the silhouettes of bushes, abridge, trees. Closer at hand there was a fire over which a large potwas boiling. Around the fire were four men in ragged clothes. As thefirelight flickered over their faces, casting weird lights upon thebattered features, he studied them carefully. He knew none of them.
One was a big subtly mis-shapen bull of a man with a three days' beard.There was power in the set of his shoulders, in his easy slouch as,with narrowed eyes, he stirred the contents of the pot. Another wassmall, with a pointed beard and a shining bald head. The first one,he gathered from their conversation, was called Angel, the second,Professor. The other two were of more moderate size. He saw that theirfaces assumed strange colors in the light of the leaping flames. Hecould not, no matter how hard he tried, gather what their names were.But he knew that names didn't matter. The thing that mattered was thedanger that somehow threatened and that he couldn't remember.
Angel lifted something out of the pot with a long spoon, said curtly,"Stuff's ready," and began to ladle out the steaming mixture. The menmoved toward him with their large tin cups, and then moved back to eat.The largest portion of all Angel kept for himself. The next largest hebrought to the sitting man, stumbling as he did so over a root thattangled his shoe. But he caught himself before he had spilled thecontents of the cup and said, "Here y'are, Crusoe."
Crusoe. A strange name. Not his at all. But he said automatically,"Thank you."
Angel had lifted a spoonful of the stew to his own mouth. Now he gulpedit down hastily and said, "Hey fellows, he sounds like he came out ofit."
The other men gathered around him. Professor, staring with sharp eyes,asked, "Do you recall your real name now?"
He shook his head. "I don't remember a thing. How did I get here?"
"You don't remember that?"
He said with irritation, "I have just told you so."
"Don't get huffy, chum," said Angel. "I been feedin' you and takin'care of you and your pal for two weeks. And you don't know a thingabout it, huh?"
"I recall nothing. Except that there is danger."
"The railroad bulls who chased us," said one of the other men. "Heremembers them."
"Bulls? No, it is something more than that."
"What about it, Professor?" asked Angel. "Think he'll snap out of it sohe really remembers?"
"I certainly hope so," returned the little bald man. "When I firstfound him, wandering around near the swamp, he seemed to be in acomplete coma. Then, after a few days of rest, he seemed to realizedimly what was going on around him. But from day to day he rememberednothing. Perhaps