*****
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 wait, turn to page 5.]

You wait until morning, but, as the rosy wisps of dawn begin to light the eastern sky, a chill and forbidding wind begins to blow.

[If you seek shelter, turn to page 6.]

You step into a niche in the rocks to escape the merciless blast of wind and lean back against the rock wall.  Suddenly it crumbles under your weight, causing you to fall backward down a muddy slope and into a pond.

The sun shines brightly down on you as you pick yourself up, dripping wet, and wade to the grassy shore.  You look back at the rock, rising out of the pond, but you can't see where you fell through.

While you are collecting your senses, a horse comes prancing up, its rider dressed in tin armor -- a knight out of the history books -- enough to make you laugh.  The horseman lifts off his helmet and laughs himself.

"What a place for a bath!" he calls out.  "Well, it was worth it -- you're cleaner than a pig!"  He almost falls off his horse, he is laughing so hard.  "But climb on and I'll take you back to the castle," he says.  "We'll see if we can't make a human out of you yet."

[If you decline the invitation and try to find your way back into the Cave of Time, turn to page 114.]

There is a certain tone in the knight's laughter that does not inspire your trust, so you thank him graciously and tell him you have other business to attend to.

"Then go to it," the knight replies. "Take care to keep your business drier than yourself!"

He gallops off in a rush. You are glad to be rid of him.

Eager to find the entrance to the Cave of Time, you climb up behind the rock wall that slopes into the pond. After searching for an hour, you find a tunnel leading underground.

[Turn to page 61.]

You follow the tunnel downward a short distance, suddenly you are sliding. Your head strikes something and your are knocked unconscious.

When you wake up, you find yourself by a small lake, bordered by woods. A boy about twelve years old is fishing nearby, but there is no one else in sight. You go up and introduce yourself, hoping you can find out what year it is without sounding crazy.

Fortunately, the boy is friendly and good-natured. He tells you his name is Nick Tyler and that he lives on Birch Street. He works in his father's business making candles and soap -- the best in the Colonies, he says.

[If you tell him you come from a future time, turn to page 104.]

When you tell him you come from the Twentieth Century through the Cave of Time, Nick smiles. Then you tell him a little about life in your own time -- about cars and planes, telephones and television. He listens intently, with a big grin on his face, as if you are telling the funniest story ever told.

"I'm so glad to meet you," Nick says. "I've always wanted to know about life in the Twentieth Century." He tries to look serious, but begins to laugh, thinking it's all a joke.

"Seriously," you say, (since you know he will never believe you) "I have no home. Do you know of a place where I can stay?"

"I'm sure you can stay at our house," he says warmly. "We have such a big family, one more won't matter, but you must be willing to work in the shop with the rest of us."

Since you feel you hardly have any other choice, you accept his offer and feel grateful when his parents give you a good dinner and a comfortable bed. Nick tells you, with much seriousness, that you are living in the year 1718 in Boston, the principal town in the British colony of Massachusetts.

You soon become one of the family. They are good people and treat you well. But each day you have to work long hours boiling soap and pouring it into molds, waiting on customers and doing errands for Nick's father, whom you have come to know as Uncle Ted.

Your neighbor, Mr. Nelson, is a printer. He recently returned from England with a printing press and letter type he bought there. The business interests you, and you consider working as his apprentice, but to do so you would have to sign papers indenturing yourself to work faithfully for him for six full years.

[If you decide to be indentured to be an apprentice in Mr. Nelson's printing business, turn to page 109.]

You go to work in Mr. Nelson's shop and soon become proficient in the art of printing. But after awhile, you become increasingly unhappy. Mr. Nelson refuses to raise your wages or give you a chance to own part of the business. There are no jobs available for you in Boston, so you decide to move to Philadelphia, where you have heard there is a greater demand for printing.

Happily, Mr. Nelson agrees to release you from your indenture, and by selling almost all your possessions, you are able to raise enough money to engage passage on a coastal schooner. After a long and stormy voyage down the coast, your ship docks early on a Sunday morning at the Market Street wharf in Philadelphia.

You are tired and hungry and you use some of your last money to buy a loaf of bread. Out of curiosity, you follow some well-dressed people into the Quaker meeting house. The people seat themselves, but, following custom, no one speaks. It is so peaceful you fall sound asleep. When you awaken, the Quakers welcome you. One family gives you lodging and, fortunately, you are able to get a job with one of the two printers in the town.

You work hard to improve your skills as a printer. Within a few years, with the help of some friends, you are able to raise enough money to go into business on your own.

Your printing business thrives, and after awhile you start your own newspaper. It begins to look as if the Eighteenth Century is a pretty good time for you to be alive.

The End