Time's Last Gift by Philip José Farmer Page A

very accurate. And he could already throw a spear about twenty yards beyond the best cast of Angrogrim, the champion of the Wota’shaimg.
    This accomplishment did not lessen his attractions for Rachel.
    I always thought that the Cro-Magnons, having much sturdier bones for muscle attachments, would be stronger than modern men,’ she said.
    ‘These aren’t the very early Cro-Magnons,’ von Billmann said. ‘But even so, they are large, and their constant use of their muscles in hunting and labor should make them very strong. In fact, they are stronger than Drummond or me. Even their smallest, Dubhab, is stronger. But the duke seems to be an exception. Indeed, if I thought such a thing possible, I’d say he is an atavism, a throwback. But he just happens to be exceptionally powerful.’
    Von Billmann sometimes referred to the Englishman as the duke, or His Grace. The reference was not altogether sarcastic. Von Billmann had a high regard for Gribardsun which was not, however, unmixed with envy.
    The four were by the riverbank at the bottom of the valley below the village site. The German was sitting in a folding chair and transcribing notes from the playback of his recorder. Drummond was breaking open some geodes with his hammer. Rachel had been collecting pollen samples, but she had stopped to watch the spear-atlatl practice.
    ‘John said he meant to take part in the first big hunt,’ she said. ‘He wants to carry only native weapons.’
    ‘Admirable, this desire to get into the subjects’ skin,’ Drummond said, looking up from an egg-shaped rock. ‘But I think he’s carrying it too far. What if he gets killed? What benefit will that be to science?’
    ‘I would think you’d like -‘ Rachel said and then closed her mouth.
    ‘Like him to be killed?’ Drummond said in a low but fierce voice. ‘Do you really believe I’m jealous of him? Should I be? Have you given me any reason?’
    ‘Don’t be a fool!’ Rachel said. Her face was red. She turned and walked away a few feet but stopped by von Billmann’s chair.
    ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with him!’ she said, half to herself, half to von Billmann. ‘He was acting a little peculiar a few weeks before we launched. But since then he’s gotten terrible. Do you think that there’s something about this world, or about being cut off from his own time, that…?’
    ‘Has Drummond checked the excess or lack of certain ions in the atmosphere?’
    ‘He has, but I don’t remember the results,’ she said. ‘It should have been the first thing I thought of. But I haven’t noticed any change in my behavior. Or yours. Or John’s.’
    ‘I don’t know about John,’ von Billmann said. ‘I’ve always detected a certain je-ne-sais-quoi about John, a certain repressed - uh - what the nineteenth-century writers called animal magnetism. Do you know what I mean?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said, looking at Gribardsun as he straightened up after a throw. The hand that held the long notched atlatl turned, and the muscles leaped out along his arm.
    ‘There’s something strange about him,’ von Billmann said. ‘I’ve known him, off and on, for twenty years. There’s something of the wild beast about him. I don’t mean that he’s bestial, or degraded. He’s one of nature’s gentlemen, to use another archaic phrase. But there’s definitely something scary deep down under that handsome hide.’
    ‘The spear went dead center in the bull’s eye,’ she said. ‘I don’t see how anybody using that stick can get any accuracy.’
    That evening the four sat around a hearth with Dubhab’s family and watched pieces of deer sizzle on the ends of sticks they held. They were visiting Dubhab today; tomorrow, Waz-wim’s family would be their hosts. To avoid any show of favoritism, the four visited each family by turn. This rotation also enabled them to become more familiar with each family. And, since each had his own pet interests, the visitors could get a broader view