“But Grandpaw!” I hollered, only inside my head this time. “Let’s talk this over. Lemme get Maw in on it anyhow. Paw’s right smart when he’s sober. Why not wait till he wakes up? I think we oughta get the Baby in on it too. I don’t think sending ’em back through time’s a good idea at all, Grandpaw.”
“The Baby’s asleep,” Grandpaw said. “You leave him be. He read himself to sleep over his Einstein, bless his little soul.”
I think the thing that worried me most was the way Grandpaw was talking plain English. He never does when he’s feeling normal. I thought maybe his old age had all caught up with him at one bank, and knocked all the sense outa his—so to speak—haid.
“Grandpaw,” I said, trying to keep calm. “Don’t you see? If we send ’em back through time and give ’em what we promised it’ll make everything a million times worse than before. You gonna strand ’em back there in the year one and break your promise to ’em?”
“Saunk!” Grandpaw said.
“I know. If we promised we’d make sure the Pugh line won’t die Out, then we gotta make sure. But if we send ’em back to the year one that’ll mean all the time between then and now they’ll spend spreading out and spreading out. More Pughs every generation.
“Grandpaw, five seconds after they hit the year one, I’m liable to feel my two eyes rush together in my haid and my face go all fat and pasty like Junior. Grandpaw, everybody in the world may be Pughs if we give ’em that much time to spread out in!”
“Cease thy chirming, thou chilce dolt,” Grandpaw hollered. “Do my bidding, young fool!”
That made me feel a little better but not much. I went and dragged out the sled. Mister Pugh put up quite a argument about that.
“I ain’t rid on a sled since I was so high,” he said. “Why should I git on one now? This is some trick.
I won’t do it.”
Junior tried to bite me.
“Now Mister Pugh,” I said, “you gotta cooperate or we won’t get nowheres. I know what I’m doing.
Just step up here and set down. Junior, there’s room for you in front. That’s fine.”
If he hadn’t seen how worried I was I don’t think he’d a-done it. But I couldn’t hide how I was feeling.
“Where’s your Grandpaw?” he asked, uneasy. “You’re not going to do this whole trick by yourself, are you? Young ignorant feller like you? I don’t like it. Suppose you made a mistake?”
“We give our word,” I reminded him. “Now just kindly shut up and let me concentrate. Or maybe you don’t want the Pugh line to last forever?”
“That was the promise,” he says, settling himself down. “You gotta do it. Lenune know when you commence.”
“All right, Saunk,” Grandpaw says from the attic, right brisk. “Now you watch. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two. Look sharp. Focus your eyes down and pick out a gene. Any gene.”
Bad as I felt about the whole thing I couldn’t help being interested. When Grandpaw does a thing he does it up brown. Genes are mighty slippery little critters, spindle-shaped and awful teensy. They’re partners with some skinny guys called chromosomes, and the two of ’em show up everywhere you look, once you’ve got your eyes focused just right.
“A good dose of ultraviolet ought to do the trick,” Grandpaw muttered. “Saunk, you’re closer.”
I said, “All right, Grandpaw,” and sort of twiddled the light as it sifted down through the pines above the Pughs. Ultraviolet’s the color at the other end of the line, where the colors stop having names for most people.
Grandpaw said, “Thanks, son. Hold it for a minute.”
The genes began to twiddle right in time with the light waves. Junior said, “Paw, something’s tickling me.”
Ed Pugh said, “Shut up.”
Grandpaw was muttering to himself. I’m pretty sure he stole the words from that perfesser we keep in the bottle, but you can’t tell, with Grandpaw. Maybe he was the first person to make ’em up in the beginning.
“The euchromatin,” he kept muttering. “That ought to. fix it. Ultraviolet gives us hereditary mutation and the euchromatin contains the genes that transmit heredity. Now that other stuff’s heterochromatin and that produces evolutionary change of the cataclysmic variety.
“Very good, very good. We can always use a new species. Hum-m-m. About six bursts of heterochromatinic activity ought to do it.” He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Ich am eldre and ek magti! Okay, Saunk, take it away.”
I let the ultraviolet go back where it came from.
“The year one, Grandpaw?” I asked, very doubtful.
“That’s close enough,” he said. “Wite thou the way?”
“Oh yes, Grandpaw,” I said. And I bent over and give them the necessary push.
The last thing I heard was Mister Pugh’s howl.
“What’s that you’re doin’?” he hollered at me. “What’s the idea? Look out, there, young Hogben or — what’s this? Where we goin’? Young Saunk, I warn you, if this is some trick I’ll set Junior on you! I’ll send you such a hex as even you-u…
Then the howl got real thin and small and far away until it wasn’t no more than the noise a mosquito makes. After that it was mighty quiet in the dooryard.
I stood there all braced, ready to stop myself from turning into a Pugh if I could. Them little genes is tricky fellers.
I knowed Grandpaw had made a turrible mistake.
The minute them Pughs hit the year one and started to bounce back through time toward now I knowed what would happen.
I ain’t sure how long ago the year one was, but there was plenty of time for the Pughs to populate the whole planet. I put two fingers against my nose to keep my eyes from banging each other when they started to rush together in the middle like all us Pughs’ eyes do— “You ain’t a Pugh yet, son,” Grandpaw said, chuckling. “Kin ye see ’em?”
“No,” I said. “What’s happening?”
“The sled’s starting to slow down,” he said. “Now it’s stopped. Yep, it’s the year one, all right. Look at all them men and women flockin’ outa the caves to greet their new company! My, my, what great big shoulders the men have got. Bigger even than Paw Pugh’s.
“An’ ugh — just look at the women! I declare, little Junior’s positively handsome alongside them folks!
He won’t have no trouble finding a wife when the time comes.”
“But Grandpaw, that’s turrible!” I said.
“Don’t sass your elders, Saunk,” Grandpaw chuckled. “Looka there now. Junior’s just pulled a hex.
Another little child fell over flat on his ugly face. Now the little child’s mother is knocking Junior endwise. Now his pappy’s sailing into Paw Pugh. Look at that fight! Just look at it! Oh, I guess the Pugh family’s well took care of, Saunk.”
“But what about our family?” I said, almost wailing.
“Don’t you worry,” Grandpaw said. “Time’ll take care of that. Wait a minute, let me watch. Hm-m. A generation don’t take long when you know how to look. My, my, what ugly little critters the ten baby Pughs was! They was just like their pappy and their grandpappy.
“I wish Lily Lou Mutz could see her grandbabies. I shorely do. Well, now, ain’t that cute? Every one of them babies growed up in a flash, seems like, and each of ’em has got ten babies of their own. I like to see my promises working out, Saunk. I said I’d do this, and I done it.”
I just moaned.
“All right,” Grandpaw said. “Let’s jump ahead a couple of centuries. Yep, still there and spreading like crazy. Family likeness is still strong, too. Hum-rn. Another thousand years and-well, I declare! If it ain’t Ancient Greece! Hasn’t changed a bit, neither. What do you know, Saunk!” He cackled right Out, tickled pink.