The passageway turned. Again Proteus wondered where the dog was. Insects dashed out of the dimness into the circle of light cast by his camping shoes. Proteus recoiled, but they scurried away. Here and there large stones littered the steps, holes in the rocky wall showing where they had fallen; and often the walls were slimy with moisture.

Finally the steps ended after another turn. There, silently, sat the dog, tail wagging, eyes friendly. Was it mute? Proteus wondered. To the right was a door. It opened easily. Proteus found himself in a large room without windows, dimly lighted from the ceiling. The entire area was filled with long tables loaded with tools, stone busts, and piles of debris.

It was an archeological site, then. Proteus hadn’t realized that such work was carried on this far underground. Maybe they’d let him stay and learn while he worked? But then another idea came to him. The dog had crossed the floor and was waiting for him at another door at the far end of the room. It was all too pat, Proteus thought. Suppose there was a reward out for him, and the archeologists were going to turn him over to his parents or a search party?

He couldn’t even imagine seeing his mother, but the thought of seeing his father surprised him. He felt a pang of loneliness, an unexpected rush of tenderness that he instantly tried to hide from himself. He adapted a jaunty stance and opened the door. The dog ran into the small room on the other side, and he followed. A creaky funny old elevator! Instantly the door closed, the tiny room moved downward, with bumps and squeaks as if it hadn’t been used for centuries. It stopped. The dog began to bark impatiently, as if it had just been given voice. The door opened and the dog ran straight out into the arms of a man who stood not three feet away.

“Good job, Winter,” the man said, picking the dog up. The man had brown hair, thick brown brows, a humped nose, and wore loose flowing overalls and a long-sleeved shirt or blouse. But it was his manner that caught Proteus’ attention at once. He’d never met a man with such presence, with such an easy yet assured air of friendly command.

“My name is Window,” the man said. “And you’re Proteus. You’ve caused us quite a bit of concern, though you didn’t know it, of course. You could have ruined everything.”