“It’s just not getting through!” he told himself, as he finished his wine. “If it were getting through, someone somewhere would have picked it up,” and he wondered if presently the Antigeosians would agree to their building an even more powerful transmitter. . . .
Prue flung her inconsiderable weight against the controlling lever, and the rail-car rolled forward. “I began it!” she screamed, almost beside herself with excitement. “You didn’t help, did you?”
“No,” Timothy assured her. “But you didn’t begin it — you started it.”
“Yes, I started it! Didn’t I?”
Sunlight fell across their faces as the car came out into the open, and the pointsman in his little kiosk glanced at Timothy inquiringly. Timothy pointed across the valley and the man nodded and threw a switch. The car rattled over t
