Since the obsession to become strong had possessed him he had frequently found it necessary to resort to soporifics to ensure sleep

Dr Rambeau had returned and was looking for him. Rambeau - crazy and filled with hate. Rambeau, blaming his troubles on Waldo. He was not safe, even in Freehold, as the crazy physicist had found out how to pass from one space to another. There he was now! Just his head, poked through from the Other World. ‘I'm going to get you, Waldo!' He was gone - no, there he was behind him! Reaching, reaching out with hands that were writhing antennae. ‘You, Waldo!' But Waldo's own hands were the giant waldoes; he snatched at Rambeau

The big waldoes went limp

Rambeau was at him, was on him; he had him around the throat

Gramps Schneider said in his ear, in a voice that was calm and strong, ‘Reach out for the power, my son. Feel it in your fingers.' Waldo grabbed at the throttling fingers, strained, tried

They were coming loose. He was winning. He would stuff Rambeau back into the Other World and keep him there. There! He had one hand free. Baldur was barking frantically; he tried to tell him to shut up, to bite Rambeau, to help- The dog continued to bark

He was in his own home, in his own great room. Baldur let out one more yipe. ‘Quiet!' He looked himself over

When he had gone to sleep he had been held in place by four light guys, opposed like the axes of a tetrahedron. Two of them were still fastened to his belt; he swung loosely against the control ring. Of the other two, one had snapped off at his belt; its end floated a few feet away. The fourth had been broken in two places, near his belt and again several feet out; the severed piece was looped loosely around his neck

He looked the situation over. Study as he might, he could conceive no way in which the guys could have been broken save by his own struggles in the nightmare. The dog could not have done it; he had no way to get a purchase. He had done it himself. The lines were light, being intended merely as stays. Still- It took him a few minutes to rig a testing apparatus which would test pull instead of grip; the yoke had to be reversed. When it was done, he cut in a medium waldo pair, fastened the severed piece of line to the tester, and, using the waldo, pulled

The line parted at two hundred and twelve pounds

Hastily, but losing time because of nervous clumsiness, he re-rigged the tester for grip. He paused, whispered softly, ‘Now is the time, Gramps!' and bore down on the grip

Twenty pounds - twenty-one. Twenty-five! Up past thirty. He was not even sweating! Thirty-five -forty, -one, -two, -three. Forty-five! And -six! And a half. Forty-seven pounds! With a great sigh he let his hand relax. He was strong. Strong

When he had somewhat regained his composure, he con­sidered what to do next. His first impulse was to call Grimes, but he suppressed it. Soon enough when he was sure of him­self

He went back to the tester and tried his left hand. Not as strong as his right, but almost - nearly forty-five pounds. Funny thing, he didn't feel any different. Just normal, healthy. No sensation

He wanted to try all of his muscles. It would take too long to rig testers for kick, and shove, and back lift, and, oh, a dozen others. He needed a field, that was it, a one-g field. Well, there was the reception room; it could be centrifuged

But its controls were in the ring and it was long corridors away. There was a nearer one, the centrifuge for the cuckoo clock. He had rigged the wheel with a speed control as an easy way to regulate the clock. He moved back to the control ring and stopped the turning of the big wheel; the clockwork was disturbed by the sudden change; the little red bird popped out, said, ‘TIz-wu th-woo' once, hopefully, and subsided

Carrying in his hand a small control panel radio hooked to the motor which inipelled the centrifuge wheel, he propelled himself to the wheel and placed himself inside, planting his feet on the inner surface of the rim and grasping one of the spokes, so that he would be in a standing position with respect to the centrifugal force, once it was impressed. He started the wheel slowly

Its first motion surprised him and he almost fell off. But he recovered himself and gave it a littlc more power. All right so far. He speeded it up gradually, triumph spreading through him as he felt the pull of the pseudo gravitational field, felt his legs grow heavy, but still strong! He let it out, one full g. He could take it. He could, indeed! To be sure, the force did not affect the upper part of his body so strongly as the lower, as his head was only a foot or so from the point of rotation. He could fix that; he squatted down slowly, hanging on tight to the spoke. It was all right

But the wheel swayed and the motor complained. His un­balanced weight, that far out from the centre of rotation, was putting too much of a strain on a framework intended to sup­port a cuckoo clock and its counterweight only. He straightened up with equal caution, feeling the fine shove of his thigh muscles and calves. He stopped the wheel

Baldur had been much perturbed by the whole business. He had almost twisted his neck off trying to follow the motions of Waldo

He still postponed calling Grimes. He wanted to arrange for some selective local controls on the centrifuging of the reception room, in order to have a proper place in which to practice standing up. Then he had to get the hang of this walk­ing business; it looked easy, but he didn't know. Might be quite a trick to learn it

Thereafter he planned to teach Baldur to walk. He tried to get Baldur into the cuckoo-clock wheel, but the dog objected. He wiggled free and retreated to the farthest part of the room. No matter - when he had the beast in the reception room he would damn well have to learn to walk. Should have seen to it long ago. A big brute like that, and couldn't walk! He visualized a framework into which the dog could be placed which would force him to stand erect. It was roughly equivalent to a baby's toddler, but Waldo did not know that. He had never seen a baby's toddler

‘Uncle Gus-

‘Oh, hello, Waldo. How you been?

‘Fine. Look, Uncle Gus, could you come up to Freehold -right away?

Grimes shook his head. ‘Sorry. My bus is in the shop.

‘Your bus is too slow anyhow. Take a taxi, or get somebody to drive you.

‘And have you insult ‘em when we get there? Huh-uh.

‘I'll be sweet as sugar.

‘Well, Jimmie Stevens said something yesterday about want­ing to see you.

Waldo grinned. ‘Get him. I'd like to see him.

‘I'll try.

‘Call me back. Make it soon.

Waldo met them in the reception room, which he had left uncentrifuged. As soon as they came in he started his act. ‘My, I'm glad you're here. Dr Stevens - could you fly me down to Earth rightaway? Something's comeup.

‘Why - I suppose so.

‘Let's go.

‘Wait a minute, Waldo. Jimmie's not prepared to handle you the way you have to be handled.

‘I'll have to chance it, Uncle Gus. This is urgent.

‘But-

‘No "buts". Let's leave at once.

They bustled Baldur into the ship and tied him down. Grimes saw to it that Waldo's chair was tilted back in the best approxi­mation of a deceleration rig. Waldo settled himself into it and closed his eyes to discourage questions. He sneaked a look and found Grimes grimly silent. Stevens made very nearly a record trip, but set them down quite gently on the parking flat ovcr Grimes's home. Grimes touched Waldo's arm. ‘How do you feel? I'll get someone and we'll get you inside. I want to get you to bed.

‘Can't do that, Uncle Gus. Things to do. Give me your arm, will you?

‘Huh?' But Waldo reached for the support requested and drew himself up