*****
You've hiked through Snake Canyon once before while visiting your Uncle Howard at Red Creek Ranch, but you never noticed any cave entrance.  It looks as though a recent rock slide has uncovered it.

Though the late afternoon sun is striking the opening of the cave, the interior remains in total darkness.  You step inside a few feet, trying to get an idea of how big it is.  As your eyes become used to the dark, you see what looks like a tunnel ahead, dimly lit by some kind of phosphorescent material on its walls.  The tunnel walls are smooth, as if they were shaped by running water.  After twenty feet or so, the tunnel curves.  You wonder where it leads.  You venture in a bit further, but you feel nervous being alone in such a strange place.  You turn and hurry out.

A thunderstorm may be coming, judging by how dark it looks outside.  Suddenly you realize the sun has long since set, and the landscape is lit only by the pale light of the full moon.  You must have fallen asleep and woken up hours later.  But then you remember something even more strange.  Just last evening, the moon was only a slim crescent in the sky.

You wonder how long you've been in the cave.  You are not hungry.  You don't feel you have been sleeping.  you wonder whether to try to walk back home by moonlight or whether to wait for dawn, rather than risk losing your footing on the steep and rocky trail.

[If you decide to start back home, turn to page 4.]

As you start walking back toward the ranch, you notice the trail seems very different than you remember it, though of course moonlight can play tricks on your eyes.  But you suddenly realize you are not walking on the trail at all, but on what seems to be a dried-up river bed.  You hurry back to the cave entrance.  You look around you and realize the whole landscape has changed.  While you were in the cave, torrents of water have washed out the trail; yet there is not so much as a puddle left.  You shiver.  It is cold, much colder than it should be at this time of year.  You take a jacket out of your backpack and put it on, but you are still freezing.

At least the world about you seems brighter.  It's getting light in the east.  The sun will soon be up.  You look at your watch.  It has run down, though you wound it only a few hours ago.  Nothing seems to make sense anymore.

You know you should get back to the ranch as quickly as possible, yet somehow you feel the only way to change things back to the way there were is to re-enter the cave.

[If you go back into the cave, turn to page 10.]

You walk into the interior of the strange cavern, then wait while your eyes become accustomed to the dim, amber light.  Gradually you can make out the two tunnels.  One curves downward to the right; the other leads upward to the left.

It occurs to you that the one leading down may go to the past and the one leading up may go to the future.

[If you walk outside the cave again, turn to page 21.]

You turn and walk back out of the cave.  It should be dawn by now, but, as you grope your way toward the entrance, you can't see any light coming into the cave.  You press against the walls, feeling for an opening.  Your hands pass across something cold, wet, and hard.  Ice!  The entrance is sealed by it.  Blocks of ice protrude into the cave.

You step back, feeling confused and helpless.  You wish it were just a dream.  You retrace your steps a way, trying to think clearly.  You know that your only chance to get out of the cave is to follow one of the two branches before you.

[If you follow the left branch, turn to page 35.]

You walk along the left-hand passageway, passing tunnels from time to time, none of which looks like a particularly appealing route.  You decide to see if you can reach the end of the passageway.

You walk on and on, hour after hour.  Then, in the distance, you see a figure approaching -- a girl wearing blue jeans and a red sweater and carrying a backpack.  She tells you that her name is Louisa and that she was exploring a cave and got lost.  She does not know she is in the Cave of Time.

[If you try to help Louisa find the way back to where she entered the cave, turn to page 76.]

After hearing of the forbidding world you've witnessed at your end of the Cave of Time, Louisa is agreeable to your helping her try to find the way back to her entrance.

"Tell me about the world outside your entrance to the Cave of Time. Is it in America? What year is it there?" you ask, as the two of you walk along.

"The year 2022, of course," she replies.

"You mean people are still wearing blue jeans then?" you ask.

"They've come back into style lately," she laughs.

"You must have some new inventions that we did not have in my time. Tell me about your most modern things."

"I think the best things are the bicycle trails. Since 1997 they've allowed no new roads to be built -- only bike trails -- and now there are as many miles of bike trails as there are roads for cars.

"So you really can bike all over the country?" you ask.

"Sure -- and not alongside buses and trucks and crazy drivers, but through forests and across plains and deserts and along rivers and streams. I sometimes feel like biking forever that way, and there are hostels for bikers where you can sleep in comfort for almost nothing. Most of the cost is paid for by taxes on gasoline."

Suddenly you feel the ground giving way beneath your feet. You and Louisa are falling. The two of you land at the base of a steep bluff, shaken but unharmed, alongside a rod. You wonder what year you have arrive in. Then, nearby, you see a billboard that says, "CADILLAC -- the Car of the Year, every Year!"

"What's a Cadillac?" Louisa asks.

The End