“I’d like to stay on till Gettysburg,” you say.

“Well, that’s fine,” the President replies. “Why don’t you sit across from me? I have to write out a little talk I’m giving there, and, while I’m doing that, you think about what you’re going to make of your life, because you can’t spend all your time riding on trains, after all.”

You nod in agreement and sit quietly watching the President scribbling some lines on an envelope. After awhile he looks up from his writing and you look each other in the eyes.

“You have a great future,” he says abruptly. “How can you tell,” you ask.

“By looking at your face.” “Just by that?”

“Just so.”

As you are talking, you notice two elaborately dressed men approaching from the end of the car. They whisper a few words to the President. He excuses himself, shakes hands with you, and tells one of his soldiers to see that you are provided for in Gettysburg.

When you arrive at Gettysburg, one of the soldiers takes you to a family who welcomes you warmly and agrees to put you up for awhile, if you will help them out with their farm.

You find it amazing to be living in a time with no cars, radios, television, record players, or even telephones. It’s peaceful, at least when there is not a war going on but you feel homesick. You feel the great future the President predicted for you lies in your own time, and you resolve to find your way back to the Cave of Time.