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Title: A Martian Odyssey

Author: Stanley G. Weinbaum

Release date: December 4, 2007 [eBook #23731]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23731

Credits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Joel Schlosberg and the Online
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MARTIAN
ODYSSEY ***

Transcriber's Note:

This eBook was produced from the 1949 book A
Martian Odyssey and Others by Stanley G.

Weinbaum, pp. 1-27. Extensive research did not
uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on
this publication was renewed.

p. 1

A MARTIAN ODYSSEY

Jarvis stretched himself as luxuriously as he could in the cramped general
quarters of the Ares.

"Air you can breathe!" he exulted. "It feels as thick as soup after the thin
stuff out there!" He nodded at the Martian landscape stretching flat and
desolate in the light of the nearer moon, beyond the glass of the port.

The other three stared at him sympathetically—Putz, the engineer, Leroy,
the biologist, and Harrison, the astronomer and captain of the expedition.
Dick Jarvis was chemist of the famous crew, the Ares expedition, first
human beings to set foot on the mysterious neighbor of the earth, the planet
Mars. This, of course, was in the old days, less than twenty years after the
mad American Doheny perfected the atomic blast at the cost of his life, and
only a decade after the equally mad Cardoza rode on it to the moon. They
were true pioneers, these four of the Ares. Except for a half-dozen moon
expeditions and the ill-fated de Lancey flight aimed at the seductive orb of
Venus, they were the first men to feel other gravity than earth's, and
certainly the first successful crew to leave the earth-moon system. And they
deserved that success when one considers the difficulties and discomforts—
the months spent in acclimatization chambers back on earth, learning to
breathe the air as tenuous as that of Mars, the challenging of the void in the
tiny rocket driven by the cranky reaction motors of the twenty-first century,
and mostly the facing of an absolutely unknown world.

Jarvis stretched and fingered the raw and peeling tip of his frost-bitten nose.
He sighed again contentedly.

p. 2

"Well," exploded Harrison abruptly, "are we going to hear what happened?
You set out all shipshape in an auxiliary rocket, we don't get a peep for ten

days, and finally Putz here picks you out of a lunatic ant-heap with a freak
ostrich as your pal! Spill it, man!"

"Speel?" queried Leroy perplexedly. "Speel what?"

"He means 'spiel'," explained Putz soberly. "It iss to tell."

Jarvis met Harrison's amused glance without the shadow of a smile. "That's
right, Karl," he said in grave agreement with Putz. "Ich spiel es!" He
grunted comfortably and began.

"According to orders," he said, "I watched Karl here take off toward the
North, and then I got into my flying sweat-box and headed South. You'll
remember, Cap—we had orders not to land, but just scout about for points
of interest. I set the two cameras clicking and buzzed along, riding pretty
high—about two thousand feet—for a couple of reasons. First, it gave the
cameras a greater field, and second, the under-jets travel so far in this half-
vacuum they call air here that they stir up dust if you move low."

"We know all that from Putz," grunted Harrison. "I wish you'd saved the
films, though. They'd have paid the cost of this junket; remember how the
public mobbed the first moon pictures?"

"The films are safe," retorted Jarvis. "Well," he resumed, "as I said, I
buzzed along at a pretty good clip; just as we figured, the wings haven't
much lift in this air at less than a hundred miles per hour, and even then I
had to use the under-jets.

"So, with the speed and the altitude and the blurring caused by the under-
jets, the seeing wasn't any too good. I could see enough, though, to
distinguish that what I sailed over was just more of this grey plain that we'd
been examining the whole week since our landing—same blobby growths
and the same eternal carpet of crawling little plant-animals, or biopods, as
Leroy calls them. So I sailed along, calling back my position every hour as
instructed, and not knowing whether you heard me."

"I did!" snapped Harrison.

"A hundred and fifty miles south," continued Jarvis imperturbably, "the
surface changed to a sort of low plateau, nothing but desert and orange-
tinted sand. I figured that we were right p. 3 in our guess, then, and this grey
plain we dropped on was really the Mare Cimmerium which would make
my orange desert the region called Xanthus. If I were right, I ought to hit
another grey plain, the Mare Chronium in another couple of hundred miles,
and then another orange desert, Thyle I or II. And so I did."

"Putz verified our position a week and a half ago!" grumbled the captain.
"Let's get to the point."

"Coming!" remarked Jarvis. "Twenty miles into Thyle—believe it or not—I
crossed a canal!"

"Putz photographed a hundred! Let's hear something new!"

"And did he also see a city?"

"Twenty of 'em, if you call those heaps of mud cities!"

"Well," observed Jarvis, "from here on I'll be telling a few things Putz didn't
see!" He rubbed his tingling nose, and continued. "I knew that I had sixteen
hours of daylight at this season, so eight hours—eight hundred miles—from
here, I decided to turn back. I was still over Thyle, whether I or II I'm not
sure, not more than twenty-five miles into it. And right there, Putz's pet
motor quit!"

"Quit? How?" Putz was solicitous.

"The atomic blast got weak. I started losing altitude right away, and
suddenly there I was with a thump right in the middle of Thyle! Smashed
my nose on the window, too!" He rubbed the injured member ruefully.

"Did you maybe try vashing der combustion chamber mit acid sulphuric?"
inquired Putz. "Sometimes der lead giffs a secondary radiation—"

"Naw!" said Jarvis disgustedly. "I wouldn't try that, of course—not more
than ten times! Besides, the bump flattened the landing gear and busted off

the under-jets. Suppose I got the thing working—what then? Ten miles with
the blast coming right out of the bottom and I'd have melted the floor from
under me!" He rubbed his nose again. "Lucky for me a pound only weighs
seven ounces here, or I'd have been mashed flat!"

"I could have fixed!" ejaculated the engineer. "I bet it vas not serious."

"Probably not," agreed Jarvis sarcastically. "Only it wouldn't fly. Nothing
serious, but I had my choice of waiting to be picked p. 4 up or trying to walk
back—eight hundred miles, and perhaps twenty days before we had to
leave! Forty miles a day! Well," he concluded, "I chose to walk. Just as
much chance of being picked up, and it kept me busy."

"We'd have found you," said Harrison.

"No doubt. Anyway, I rigged up a harness from some seat straps, and put
the water tank on my back, took a cartridge belt and revolver, and some iron
rations, and started out."

"Water tank!" exclaimed the little biologist, Leroy. "She weigh one-quarter
ton!"

"Wasn't full. Weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds earth-weight,
which is eighty-five here. Then, besides, my own personal two hundred and
ten pounds is only seventy on Mars, so, tank and all, I grossed a hundred
and fifty-five, or fifty-five pounds less than my everyday earth-weight. I
figured on that when I undertook the forty-mile daily stroll. Oh—of course I
took a thermo-skin sleeping bag for these wintry Martian nights.

"Off I went, bouncing along pretty quickly. Eight hours of daylight meant
twenty miles or more. It got tiresome, of course—plugging along over a
soft sand desert with nothing to see, not even Leroy's crawling biopods. But
an hour or so brought me to the canal—just a dry ditch about four hundred
feet wide, and straight as a railroad on its own company map.

"There'd been water in it sometime, though. The ditch was covered with
what looked like a nice green lawn. Only, as I approached, the lawn moved
out of my way!"

"Eh?" said Leroy.

"Yeah, it was a relative of your biopods. I caught one—a little grass-like
blade about as long as my finger, with two thin, stemmy legs."

"He is where?" Leroy was eager.

"He is let go! I had to move, so I plowed along with the walking grass
opening in front and closing behind. And then I was out on the orange
desert of Thyle again.

"I plugged steadily along, cussing the sand that made going so tiresome,
and, incidentally, cussing that cranky motor of yours, Karl. It was just
before twilight that I reached the edge of Thyle, and looked down over the
gray Mare Chronium. And I knew there was seventy-five miles of that to be
walked over, and then a p. 5 couple of hundred miles of that Xanthus desert,
and about as much more Mare Cimmerium. Was I pleased? I started cussing
you fellows for not picking me up!"

"We were trying, you sap!" said Harrison.

"That didn't help. Well, I figured I might as well use what was left of
daylight in getting down the cliff that bounded Thyle. I found an easy place,
and down I went. Mare Chronium was just the same sort of place as this—
crazy leafless plants and a bunch of crawlers; I gave it a glance and hauled
out my sleeping bag. Up to that time, you know, I hadn't seen anything
worth worrying about on this half-dead world—nothing dangerous, that is."

"Did you?" queried Harrison.

"Did I! You'll hear about it when I come to it. Well, I was just about to turn
in when suddenly I heard the wildest sort of shenanigans!"

"Vot iss shenanigans?" inquired Putz.

"He says, 'Je ne sais quoi,'" explained Leroy. "It is to say, 'I don't know
what.'"

"That's right," agreed Jarvis. "I didn't know what, so I sneaked over to find
out. There was a racket like a flock of crows eating a bunch of canaries—
whistles, cackles, caws, trills, and what have you. I rounded a clump of
stumps, and there was Tweel!"

"Tweel?" said Harrison, and "Tveel?" said Leroy and Putz.

"That freak ostrich," explained the narrator. "At least, Tweel is as near as I
can pronounce it without sputtering. He called it something like
'Trrrweerrlll.'"

"What was he doing?" asked the Captain.

"He was being eaten! And squealing, of course, as any one would."

"Eaten! By what?"

"I found out later. All I could see then was a bunch of black ropy arms
tangled around what looked like, as Putz described it to you, an ostrich. I
wasn't going to interfere, naturally; if both creatures were dangerous, I'd
have one less to worry about.

"But the bird-like thing was putting up a good battle, dealing vicious blows
with an eighteen-inch beak, between screeches. And besides, I caught a
glimpse or two of what was on the end of those arms!" Jarvis shuddered.
"But the clincher was when I p. 6 noticed a little black bag or case hung
about the neck of the bird-thing! It was intelligent! That or tame, I assumed.
Anyway, it clinched my decision. I pulled out my automatic and fired into
what I could see of its antagonist.

"There was a flurry of tentacles and a spurt of black corruption, and then
the thing, with a disgusting sucking noise, pulled itself and its arms into a
hole in the ground. The other let out a series of clacks, staggered around on
legs about as thick as golf sticks, and turned suddenly to face me. I held my
weapon ready, and the two of us stared at each other.

"The Martian wasn't a bird, really. It wasn't even bird-like, except just at
first glance. It had a beak all right, and a few feathery appendages, but the

beak wasn't really a beak. It was somewhat flexible; I could see the tip bend
slowly from side to side; it was almost like a cross between a beak and a
trunk. It had four-toed feet, and four fingered things—hands, you'd have to
call them, and a little roundish body, and a long neck ending in a tiny head
—and that beak. It stood an inch or so taller than I, and—well, Putz saw it!"

The engineer nodded. "Ja! I saw!"

Jarvis continued. "So—we stared at each other. Finally the creature went
into a series of clackings and twitterings and held out its hands toward me,
empty. I took that as a gesture of friendship."

"Perhaps," suggested Harrison, "it looked at that nose of yours and thought
you were its brother!"

"Huh! You can be funny without talking! Anyway, I put up my gun and said
'Aw, don't mention it,' or something of the sort, and the thing came over and
we were pals.

"By that time, the sun was pretty low and I knew that I'd better build a fire
or get into my thermo-skin. I decided on the fire. I picked a spot at the base
of the Thyle cliff, where the rock could reflect a little heat on my back. I
started breaking off chunks of this desiccated Martian vegetation, and my
companion caught the idea and brought in an armful. I reached for a match,
but the Martian fished into his pouch and brought out something that looked
like a glowing coal; one touch of it, and the fire was blazing—and you all
know what a job we have starting a fire in this atmosphere!

p. 7

"And that bag of his!" continued the narrator. "That was a manufactured
article, my friends; press an end and she popped open—press the middle
and she sealed so perfectly you couldn't see the line. Better than zippers.

"Well, we stared at the fire a while and I decided to attempt some sort of
communication with the Martian. I pointed at myself and said 'Dick'; he
caught the drift immediately, stretched a bony claw at me and repeated
'Tick.' Then I pointed at him, and he gave that whistle I called Tweel; I can't

imitate his accent. Things were going smoothly; to emphasize the names, I
repeated 'Dick,' and then, pointing at him, 'Tweel.'

"There we stuck! He gave some clacks that sounded negative, and said
something like 'P-p-p-proot.' And that was just the beginning; I was always
'Tick,' but as for him—part of the time he was 'Tweel,' and part of the time
he was 'P-p-p-proot,' and part of the time he was sixteen other noises!

"We just couldn't connect. I tried 'rock,' and I tried 'star,' and 'tree,' and 'fire,'
and Lord knows what else, and try as I would, I couldn't get a single word!
Nothing was the same for two successive minutes, and if that's a language,
I'm an alchemist! Finally I gave it up and called him Tweel, and that seemed
to do.

"But Tweel hung on to some of my words. He remembered a couple of
them, which I suppose is a great achievement if you're used to a language
you have to make up as you go along. But I couldn't get the hang of his talk;
either I missed some subtle point or we just didn't think alike—and I rather
believe the latter view.

"I've other reasons for believing that. After a while I gave up the language
business, and tried mathematics. I scratched two plus two equals four on the
ground, and demonstrated it with pebbles. Again Tweel caught the idea, and
informed me that three plus three equals six. Once more we seemed to be
getting somewhere.

"So, knowing that Tweel had at least a grammar school education, I drew a
circle for the sun, pointing first at it, and then at the last glow of the sun.
Then I sketched in Mercury, and Venus, and Mother Earth, and Mars, and
finally, pointing to Mars, I swept my hand around in a sort of inclusive
gesture to indicate that Mars was our current environment. I was working
up to putting over the idea that my home was on the earth.

p. 8

"Tweel understood my diagram all right. He poked his beak at it, and with a
great deal of trilling and clucking, he added Deimos and Phobos to Mars,
and then sketched in the earth's moon!

"Do you see what that proves? It proves that Tweel's race uses telescopes—
that they're civilized!"

"Does not!" snapped Harrison. "The moon is visible from here as a fifth
magnitude star. They could see its revolution with the naked eye."

"The moon, yes!" said Jarvis. "You've missed my point. Mercury isn't
visible! And Tweel knew of Mercury because he placed the Moon at the
third planet, not the second. If he didn't know Mercury, he'd put the earth
second, and Mars third, instead of fourth! See?"

"Humph!" said Harrison.

"Anyway," proceeded Jarvis, "I went on with my lesson. Things were going
smoothly, and it looked as if I could put the idea over. I pointed at the earth
on my diagram, and then at myself, and then, to clinch it, I pointed to
myself and then to the earth itself shining bright green almost at the zenith.

"Tweel set up such an excited clacking that I was certain he understood. He
jumped up and down, and suddenly he pointed at himself and then at the
sky, and then at himself and at the sky again. He pointed at his middle and
then at Arcturus, at his head and then at Spica, at his feet and then at half a
dozen stars, while I just gaped at him. Then, all of a sudden, he gave a
tremendous leap. Man, what a hop! He shot straight up into the starlight,
seventy-five feet if an inch! I saw him silhouetted against the sky, saw him
turn and come down at me head first, and land smack on his beak like a
javelin! There he stuck square in the center of my sun-circle in the sand—a
bull's eye!"

"Nuts!" observed the captain. "Plain nuts!"

"That's what I thought, too! I just stared at him open-mouthed while he
pulled his head out of the sand and stood up. Then I figured he'd missed my
point, and I went through the whole blamed rigamarole again, and it ended
the same way, with Tweel on his nose in the middle of my picture!"

"Maybe it's a religious rite," suggested Harrison.

"Maybe," said Jarvis dubiously. "Well, there we were. We p. 9 could
exchange ideas up to a certain point, and then—blooey! Something in us
was different, unrelated; I don't doubt that Tweel thought me just as screwy
as I thought him. Our minds simply looked at the world from different
viewpoints, and perhaps his viewpoint is as true as ours. But—we couldn't
get together, that's all. Yet, in spite of all difficulties, I liked Tweel, and I
have a queer certainty that he liked me."

"Nuts!" repeated the captain. "Just daffy!"

"Yeah? Wait and see. A couple of times I've thought that perhaps we—" He
paused, and then resumed his narrative. "Anyway, I finally gave it up, and
got into my thermo-skin to sleep. The fire hadn't kept me any too warm, but
that damned sleeping bag did. Got stuffy five minutes after I closed myself
in. I opened it a little and bingo! Some eighty-below-zero air hit my nose,
and that's when I got this pleasant little frostbite to add to the bump I
acquired during the crash of my rocket.

"I don't know what Tweel made of my sleeping. He sat around, but when I
woke up, he was gone. I'd just crawled out of my bag, though, when I heard
some twittering, and there he came, sailing down from that three-story
Thyle cliff to alight on his beak beside me. I pointed to myself and toward
the north, and he pointed at himself and toward the south, but when I loaded
up and started away, he came along.

"Man, how he traveled! A hundred and fifty feet at a jump, sailing through
the air stretched out like a spear, and landing on his beak. He seemed
surprised at my plodding, but after a few moments he fell in beside me,
only every few minutes he'd go into one of his leaps, and stick his nose into
the sand a block ahead of me. Then he'd come shooting back at me; it made
me nervous at first to see that beak of his coming at me like a spear, but he
always ended in the sand at my side.

"So the two of us plugged along across the Mare Chronium. Same sort of
place as this—same crazy plants and same little green biopods growing in
the sand, or crawling out of your way. We talked—not that we understood
each other, you know, but just for company. I sang songs, and I suspect

Tweel did too; at least, some of his trillings and twitterings had a subtle sort
of rhythm.

"Then, for variety, Tweel would display his smattering of English words.
He'd point to an outcropping and say 'rock,' and p. 10 point to a pebble and
say it again; or he'd touch my arm and say 'Tick,' and then repeat it. He
seemed terrifically amused that the same word meant the same thing twice
in succession, or that the same word could apply to two different objects. It
set me wondering if perhaps his language wasn't like the primitive speech
of some earth people—you know, Captain, like the Negritoes, for instance,
who haven't any generic words. No word for food or water or man—words
for good food and bad food, or rain water and sea water, or strong man and
weak man—but no names for general classes. They're too primitive to
understand that rain water and sea water are just different aspects of the
same thing. But that wasn't the case with Tweel; it was just that we were
somehow mysteriously different—our minds were alien to each other. And
yet—we liked each other!"

"Looney, that's all," remarked Harrison. "That's why you two were so fond
of each other."

"Well, I like you!" countered Jarvis wickedly. "Anyway," he resumed, "don't
get the idea that there was anything screwy about Tweel. In fact, I'm not so
sure but that he couldn't teach our highly praised human intelligence a trick
or two. Oh, he wasn't an intellectual superman, I guess; but don't overlook
the point that he managed to understand a little of my mental workings, and
I never even got a glimmering of his."

"Because he didn't have any!" suggested the captain, while Putz and Leroy
blinked attentively.

"You can judge of that when I'm through," said Jarvis. "Well, we plugged
along across the Mare Chronium all that day, and all the next. Mare
Chronium—Sea of Time! Say, I was willing to agree with Schiaparelli's
name by the end of that march! Just that grey, endless plain of weird plants,
and never a sign of any other life. It was so monotonous that I was even
glad to see the desert of Xanthus toward the evening of the second day.

"I was fair worn out, but Tweel seemed as fresh as ever, for all I never saw
him drink or eat. I think he could have crossed the Mare Chronium in a
couple of hours with those block-long nose dives of his, but he stuck along
with me. I offered him some water once or twice; he took the cup from me
and sucked the liquid into his beak, and then carefully squirted it all back
into the cup and gravely returned it.

p. 11

"Just as we sighted Xanthus, or the cliffs that bounded it, one of those nasty
sand clouds blew along, not as bad as the one we had here, but mean to
travel against. I pulled the transparent flap of my thermo-skin bag across
my face and managed pretty well, and I noticed that Tweel used some
feathery appendages growing like a mustache at the base of his beak to
cover his nostrils, and some similar fuzz to shield his eyes."

"He is a desert creature!" ejaculated the little biologist, Leroy.

"Huh? Why?"

"He drink no water—he is adapt' for sand storm—"

"Proves nothing! There's not enough water to waste any where on this
desiccated pill called Mars. We'd call all of it desert on earth, you know."
He paused. "Anyway, after the sand storm blew over, a little wind kept
blowing in our faces, not strong enough to stir the sand. But suddenly things
came drifting along from the Xanthus cliffs—small, transparent spheres, for
all the world like glass tennis balls! But light—they were almost light
enough to float even in this thin air—empty, too; at least, I cracked open a
couple and nothing came out but a bad smell. I asked Tweel about them, but
all he said was 'No, no, no,' which I took to mean that he knew nothing
about them. So they went bouncing by like tumbleweeds, or like soap
bubbles, and we plugged on toward Xanthus. Tweel pointed at one of the
crystal balls once and said 'rock,' but I was too tired to argue with him.
Later I discovered what he meant.

"We came to the bottom of the Xanthus cliffs finally, when there wasn't
much daylight left. I decided to sleep on the plateau if possible; anything

dangerous, I reasoned, would be more likely to prowl through the
vegetation of the Mare Chronium than the sand of Xanthus. Not that I'd
seen a single sign of menace, except the rope-armed black thing that had
trapped Tweel, and apparently that didn't prowl at all, but lured its victims
within reach. It couldn't lure me while I slept, especially as Tweel didn't
seem to sleep at all, but simply sat patiently around all night. I wondered
how the creature had managed to trap Tweel, but there wasn't any way of
asking him. I found that out too, later; it's devilish!

"However, we were ambling around the base of the Xanthus barrier looking
for an easy spot to climb. At least, I was. Tweel p. 12 could have leaped it
easily, for the cliffs were lower than Thyle—perhaps sixty feet. I found a
place and started up, swearing at the water tank strapped to my back—it
didn't bother me except when climbing—and suddenly I heard a sound that
I thought I recognized!

"You know how deceptive sounds are in this thin air. A shot sounds like the
pop of a cork. But this sound was the drone of a rocket, and sure enough,
there went our second auxiliary about ten miles to westward, between me
and the sunset!"

"Vas me!" said Putz. "I hunt for you."

"Yeah; I knew that, but what good did it do me? I hung on to the cliff and
yelled and waved with one hand. Tweel saw it too, and set up a trilling and
twittering, leaping to the top of the barrier and then high into the air. And
while I watched, the machine droned on into the shadows to the south.

"I scrambled to the top of the cliff. Tweel was still pointing and trilling
excitedly, shooting up toward the sky and coming down head-on to stick
upside down on his beak in the sand. I pointed toward the south and at
myself, and he said, 'Yes—Yes—Yes'; but somehow I gathered that he
thought the flying thing was a relative of mine, probably a parent. Perhaps I
did his intellect an injustice; I think now that I did.

"I was bitterly disappointed by the failure to attract attention. I pulled out
my thermo-skin bag and crawled into it, as the night chill was already
apparent. Tweel stuck his beak into the sand and drew up his legs and arms

and looked for all the world like one of those leafless shrubs out there. I
think he stayed that way all night."

"Protective mimicry!" ejaculated Leroy. "See? He is desert creature!"

"In the morning," resumed Jarvis, "we started off again. We hadn't gone a
hundred yards into Xanthus when I saw something queer! This is one thing
Putz didn't photograph, I'll wager!

"There was a line of little pyramids—tiny ones, not more than six inches
high, stretching across Xanthus as far as I could see! Little buildings made
of pygmy bricks, they were, hollow inside and truncated, or at least broken
at the top and empty. I pointed at them and said 'What?' to Tweel, but he
gave some negative twitters to indicate, I suppose, that he didn't know. So
p. 13 off we went, following the row of pyramids because they ran north, and
I was going north.

"Man, we trailed that line for hours! After a while, I noticed another queer
thing: they were getting larger. Same number of bricks in each one, but the
bricks were larger.

"By noon they were shoulder high. I looked into a couple—all just the
same, broken at the top and empty. I examined a brick or two as well; they
were silica, and old as creation itself!"

"How you know?" asked Leroy.

"They were weathered—edges rounded. Silica doesn't weather easily even
on earth, and in this climate—!"

"How old you think?"

"Fifty thousand—a hundred thousand years. How can I tell? The little ones
we saw in the morning were older—perhaps ten times as old. Crumbling.
How old would that make them? Half a million years? Who knows?" Jarvis
paused a moment. "Well," he resumed, "we followed the line. Tweel pointed
at them and said 'rock' once or twice, but he'd done that many times before.
Besides, he was more or less right about these.

"I tried questioning him. I pointed at a pyramid and asked 'People?' and
indicated the two of us. He set up a negative sort of clucking and said, 'No,
no, no. No one-one-two. No two-two-four,' meanwhile rubbing his stomach.
I just stared at him and he went through the business again. 'No one-one-
two. No two-two-four.' I just gaped at him."

"That proves it!" exclaimed Harrison. "Nuts!"

"You think so?" queried Jarvis sardonically. "Well, I figured it out different!
'No one-one-two!' You don't get it, of course, do you?"

"Nope—nor do you!"

"I think I do! Tweel was using the few English words he knew to put over a
very complex idea. What, let me ask, does mathematics make you think
of?"

"Why—of astronomy. Or—or logic!"

"That's it! 'No one-one-two!' Tweel was telling me that the builders of the
pyramids weren't people—or that they weren't intelligent, that they weren't
reasoning creatures! Get it?"

"Huh! I'll be damned!"

"You probably will."

p. 14

"Why," put in Leroy, "he rub his belly?"

"Why? Because, my dear biologist, that's where his brains are! Not in his
tiny head—in his middle!"

"C'est impossible!"

"Not on Mars, it isn't! This flora and fauna aren't earthly; your biopods
prove that!" Jarvis grinned and took up his narrative. "Anyway, we plugged

along across Xanthus and in about the middle of the afternoon, something
else queer happened. The pyramids ended."

"Ended!"

"Yeah; the queer part was that the last one—and now they were ten-footers
—was capped! See? Whatever built it was still inside; we'd trailed 'em from
their half-million-year-old origin to the present.

"Tweel and I noticed it about the same time. I yanked out my automatic (I
had a clip of Boland explosive bullets in it) and Tweel, quick as a sleight-
of-hand trick, snapped a queer little glass revolver out of his bag. It was
much like our weapons, except that the grip was larger to accommodate his
four-taloned hand. And we held our weapons ready while we sneaked up
along the lines of empty pyramids.

"Tweel saw the movement first. The top tiers of bricks were heaving,
shaking, and suddenly slid down the sides with a thin crash. And then—
something—something was coming out!

"A long, silvery-grey arm appeared, dragging after it an armored body.
Armored, I mean, with scales, silver-grey and dull-shining. The arm heaved
the body out of the hole; the beast crashed to the sand.

"It was a nondescript creature—body like a big grey cask, arm and a sort of
mouth-hole at one end; stiff, pointed tail at the other—and that's all. No
other limbs, no eyes, ears, nose—nothing! The thing dragged itself a few
yards, inserted its pointed tail in the sand, pushed itself upright, and just sat.

"Tweel and I watched it for ten minutes before it moved. Then, with a
creaking and rustling like—oh, like crumpling stiff paper—its arm moved
to the mouth-hole and out came a brick! The arm placed the brick carefully
on the ground, and the thing was still again.

"Another ten minutes—another brick. Just one of Nature's p. 15 bricklayers. I
was about to slip away and move on when Tweel pointed at the thing and
said 'rock'! I went 'huh?' and he said it again. Then, to the accompaniment

of some of his trilling, he said, 'No—no—,' and gave two or three whistling
breaths.

"Well, I got his meaning, for a wonder! I said, 'No breath?' and
demonstrated the word. Tweel was ecstatic; he said, 'Yes, yes, yes! No, no,
no breet!' Then he gave a leap and sailed out to land on his nose about one
pace from the monster!

"I was startled, you can imagine! The arm was going up for a brick, and I
expected to see Tweel caught and mangled, but—nothing happened! Tweel
pounded on the creature, and the arm took the brick and placed it neatly
beside the first. Tweel rapped on its body again, and said 'rock,' and I got up
nerve enough to take a look myself.

"Tweel was right again. The creature was rock, and it didn't breathe!"

"How you know?" snapped Leroy, his black eyes blazing interest.

"Because I'm a chemist. The beast was made of silica! There must have
been pure silicon in the sand, and it lived on that. Get it? We, and Tweel,
and those plants out there, and even the biopods are carbon life; this thing
lived by a different set of chemical reactions. It was silicon life!"

"La vie silicieuse!" shouted Leroy. "I have suspect, and now it is proof! I
must go see! Il faut que je—"

"All right! All right!" said Jarvis. "You can go see. Anyhow, there the thing
was, alive and yet not alive, moving every ten minutes, and then only to
remove a brick. Those bricks were its waste matter. See, Frenchy? We're
carbon, and our waste is carbon dioxide, and this thing is silicon, and its
waste is silicon dioxide—silica. But silica is a solid, hence the bricks. And
it builds itself in, and when it is covered, it moves over to a fresh place to
start over. No wonder it creaked! A living creature half a million years old!"

"How you know how old?" Leroy was frantic.

"We trailed its pyramids from the beginning, didn't we? If this weren't the
original pyramid builder, the series would have ended somewhere before we

found him, wouldn't it?—ended and started over with the small ones. That's
simple enough, isn't it?

p. 16

"But he reproduces, or tries to. Before the third brick came out, there was a
little rustle and out popped a whole stream of those little crystal balls.
They're his spores, or eggs, or seeds—call 'em what you want. They went
bouncing by across Xanthus just as they'd bounced by us back in the Mare
Chronium. I've a hunch how they work, too—this is for your information,
Leroy. I think the crystal shell of silica is no more than a protective
covering, like an eggshell, and that the active principle is the smell inside.
It's some sort of gas that attacks silicon, and if the shell is broken near a
supply of that element, some reaction starts that ultimately develops into a
beast like that one."

"You should try!" exclaimed the little Frenchman. "We must break one to
see!"

"Yeah? Well, I did. I smashed a couple against the sand. Would you like to
come back in about ten thousand years to see if I planted some pyramid
monsters? You'd most likely be able to tell by that time!" Jarvis paused and
drew a deep breath. "Lord! That queer creature! Do you picture it? Blind,
deaf, nerveless, brainless—just a mechanism, and yet—immortal! Bound to
go on making bricks, building pyramids, as long as silicon and oxygen
exist, and even afterwards it'll just stop. It won't be dead. If the accidents of
a million years bring it its food again, there it'll be, ready to run again, while
brains and civilizations are part of the past. A queer beast—yet I met a
stranger one!"

"If you did, it must have been in your dreams!" growled Harrison.

"You're right!" said Jarvis soberly. "In a way, you're right. The dream-beast!
That's the best name for it—and it's the most fiendish, terrifying creation
one could imagine! More dangerous than a lion, more insidious than a
snake!"

"Tell me!" begged Leroy. "I must go see!"

"Not this devil!" He paused again. "Well," he resumed, "Tweel and I left the
pyramid creature and plowed along through Xanthus. I was tired and a little
disheartened by Putz's failure to pick me up, and Tweel's trilling got on my
nerves, as did his flying nosedives. So I just strode along without a word,
hour after hour across that monotonous desert.

"Toward mid-afternoon we came in sight of a low dark line on the horizon.
I knew what it was. It was a canal; I'd crossed p. 17 it in the rocket and it
meant that we were just one-third of the way across Xanthus. Pleasant
thought, wasn't it? And still, I was keeping up to schedule.

"We approached the canal slowly; I remembered that this one was bordered
by a wide fringe of vegetation and that Mud-heap City was on it.

"I was tired, as I said. I kept thinking of a good hot meal, and then from that
I jumped to reflections of how nice and home-like even Borneo would seem
after this crazy planet, and from that, to thoughts of little old New York, and
then to thinking about a girl I know there—Fancy Long. Know her?"

"Vision entertainer," said Harrison. "I've tuned her in. Nice blonde—dances
and sings on the Yerba Mate hour."

"That's her," said Jarvis ungrammatically. "I know her pretty well—just
friends, get me?—though she came down to see us off in the Ares. Well, I
was thinking about her, feeling pretty lonesome, and all the time we were
approaching that line of rubbery plants.

"And then—I said, 'What 'n Hell!' and stared. And there she was—Fancy
Long, standing plain as day under one of those crack-brained trees, and
smiling and waving just the way I remembered her when we left!"

"Now you're nuts, too!" observed the captain.

"Boy, I almost agreed with you! I stared and pinched myself and closed my
eyes and then stared again—and every time, there was Fancy Long smiling
and waving! Tweel saw something, too; he was trilling and clucking away,
but I scarcely heard him. I was bounding toward her over the sand, too
amazed even to ask myself questions.

"I wasn't twenty feet from her when Tweel caught me with one of his flying
leaps. He grabbed my arm, yelling, 'No—no—no!' in his squeaky voice. I
tried to shake him off—he was as light as if he were built of bamboo—but
he dug his claws in and yelled. And finally some sort of sanity returned to
me and I stopped less than ten feet from her. There she stood, looking as
solid as Putz's head!"

"Vot?" said the engineer.

"She smiled and waved, and waved and smiled, and I stood p. 18 there dumb
as Leroy, while Tweel squeaked and chattered. I knew it couldn't be real, yet
—there she was!

"Finally I said, 'Fancy! Fancy Long!' She just kept on smiling and waving,
but looking as real as if I hadn't left her thirty-seven million miles away.

"Tweel had his glass pistol out, pointing it at her. I grabbed his arm, but he
tried to push me away. He pointed at her and said, 'No breet! No breet!' and
I understood that he meant that the Fancy Long thing wasn't alive. Man, my
head was whirling!

"Still, it gave me the jitters to see him pointing his weapon at her. I don't
know why I stood there watching him take careful aim, but I did. Then he
squeezed the handle of his weapon; there was a little puff of steam, and
Fancy Long was gone! And in her place was one of those writhing, black,
rope-armed horrors like the one I'd saved Tweel from!

"The dream-beast! I stood there dizzy, watching it die while Tweel trilled
and whistled. Finally he touched my arm, pointed at the twisting thing, and
said, 'You one-one-two, he one-one-two.' After he'd repeated it eight or ten
times, I got it. Do any of you?"

"Oui!" shrilled Leroy. "Moi—je le comprends! He mean you think of
something, the beast he know, and you see it! Un chien—a hungry dog, he
would see the big bone with meat! Or smell it—not?"

"Right!" said Jarvis. "The dream-beast uses its victim's longings and desires
to trap its prey. The bird at nesting season would see its mate, the fox,

prowling for its own prey, would see a helpless rabbit!"

"How he do?" queried Leroy.

"How do I know? How does a snake back on earth charm a bird into its
very jaws? And aren't there deep-sea fish that lure their victims into their
mouths? Lord!" Jarvis shuddered. "Do you see how insidious the monster
is? We're warned now—but henceforth we can't trust even our eyes. You
might see me—I might see one of you—and back of it may be nothing but
another of those black horrors!"

"How'd your friend know?" asked the captain abruptly.

"Tweel? I wonder! Perhaps he was thinking of something that couldn't
possibly have interested me, and when I started to p. 19 run, he realized that I
saw something different and was warned. Or perhaps the dream-beast can
only project a single vision, and Tweel saw what I saw—or nothing. I
couldn't ask him. But it's just another proof that his intelligence is equal to
ours or greater."

"He's daffy, I tell you!" said Harrison. "What makes you think his intellect
ranks with the human?"

"Plenty of things! First, the pyramid-beast. He hadn't seen one before; he
said as much. Yet he recognized it as a dead-alive automaton of silicon."

"He could have heard of it," objected Harrison. "He lives around here, you
know."

"Well how about the language? I couldn't pick up a single idea of his and he
learned six or seven words of mine. And do you realize what complex ideas
he put over with no more than those six or seven words? The pyramid-
monster—the dream-beast! In a single phrase he told me that one was a
harmless automaton and the other a deadly hypnotist. What about that?"

"Huh!" said the captain.

"Huh if you wish! Could you have done it knowing only six words of
English? Could you go even further, as Tweel did, and tell me that another
creature was of a sort of intelligence so different from ours that
understanding was impossible—even more impossible than that between
Tweel and me?"

"Eh? What was that?"

"Later. The point I'm making is that Tweel and his race are worthy of our
friendship. Somewhere on Mars—and you'll find I'm right—is a civilization
and culture equal to ours, and maybe more than equal. And communication
is possible between them and us; Tweel proves that. It may take years of
patient trial, for their minds are alien, but less alien than the next minds we
encountered—if they are minds."

"The next ones? What next ones?"

"The people of the mud cities along the canals." Jarvis frowned, then
resumed his narrative. "I thought the dream-beast and the silicon-monster
were the strangest beings conceivable, but I was wrong. These creatures are
still more alien, less understandable than either and far less comprehensible
than Tweel, with p. 20 whom friendship is possible, and even, by patience
and concentration, the exchange of ideas.

"Well," he continued, "we left the dream-beast dying, dragging itself back
into its hole, and we moved toward the canal. There was a carpet of that
queer walking-grass scampering out of our way, and when we reached the
bank, there was a yellow trickle of water flowing. The mound city I'd
noticed from the rocket was a mile or so to the right and I was curious
enough to want to take a look at it.

"It had seemed deserted from my previous glimpse of it, and if any
creatures were lurking in it—well, Tweel and I were both armed. And by
the way, that crystal weapon of Tweel's was an interesting device; I took a
look at it after the dream-beast episode. It fired a little glass splinter,
poisoned, I suppose, and I guess it held at least a hundred of 'em to a load.
The propellent was steam—just plain steam!"

"Shteam!" echoed Putz. "From vot come, shteam?"

"From water, of course! You could see the water through the transparent
handle and about a gill of another liquid, thick and yellowish. When Tweel
squeezed the handle—there was no trigger—a drop of water and a drop of
the yellow stuff squirted into the firing chamber, and the water vaporized—
pop!—like that. It's not so difficult; I think we could develop the same
principle. Concentrated sulphuric acid will heat water almost to boiling, and
so will quicklime, and there's potassium and sodium—

"Of course, his weapon hadn't the range of mine, but it wasn't so bad in this
thin air, and it did hold as many shots as a cowboy's gun in a Western
movie. It was effective, too, at least against Martian life; I tried it out,
aiming at one of the crazy plants, and darned if the plant didn't wither up
and fall apart! That's why I think the glass splinters were poisoned.

"Anyway, we trudged along toward the mud-heap city and I began to
wonder whether the city builders dug the canals. I pointed to the city and
then at the canal, and Tweel said 'No—no—no!' and gestured toward the
south. I took it to mean that some other race had created the canal system,
perhaps Tweel's people. I don't know; maybe there's still another intelligent
race on the planet, or a dozen others. Mars is a queer little world.

p. 21

"A hundred yards from the city we crossed a sort of road—just a hard-
packed mud trail, and then, all of a sudden, along came one of the mound
builders!

"Man, talk about fantastic beings! It looked rather like a barrel trotting
along on four legs with four other arms or tentacles. It had no head, just
body and members and a row of eyes completely around it. The top end of
the barrel-body was a diaphragm stretched as tight as a drum head, and that
was all. It was pushing a little coppery cart and tore right past us like the
proverbial bat out of Hell. It didn't even notice us, although I thought the
eyes on my side shifted a little as it passed.

"A moment later another came along, pushing another empty cart. Same
thing—it just scooted past us. Well, I wasn't going to be ignored by a bunch
of barrels playing train, so when the third one approached, I planted myself
in the way—ready to jump, of course, if the thing didn't stop.

"But it did. It stopped and set up a sort of drumming from the diaphragm on
top. And I held out both hands and said, 'We are friends!' And what do you
suppose the thing did?"

"Said, 'Pleased to meet you,' I'll bet!" suggested Harrison.

"I couldn't have been more surprised if it had! It drummed on its diaphragm,
and then suddenly boomed out, 'We are v-r-r-riends!' and gave its pushcart a
vicious poke at me! I jumped aside, and away it went while I stared dumbly
after it.

"A minute later another one came hurrying along. This one didn't pause, but
simply drummed out, 'We are v-r-r-riends!' and scurried by. How did it learn
the phrase? Were all of the creatures in some sort of communication with
each other? Were they all parts of some central organism? I don't know,
though I think Tweel does.

"Anyway, the creatures went sailing past us, every one greeting us with the
same statement. It got to be funny; I never thought to find so many friends
on this God-forsaken ball! Finally I made a puzzled gesture to Tweel; I
guess he understood, for he said, 'One-one-two—yes!—two-two-four—no!'
Get it?"

"Sure," said Harrison, "It's a Martian nursery rhyme."

"Yeah! Well, I was getting used to Tweel's symbolism, and I figured it out
this way. 'One-one-two—yes!' The creatures were intelligent. 'Two-two-four
—no!' Their intelligence was not of p. 22 our order, but something different
and beyond the logic of two and two is four. Maybe I missed his meaning.
Perhaps he meant that their minds were of low degree, able to figure out the
simple things—'One-one-two—yes!'—but not more difficult things—'Two-
two-four—no!' But I think from what we saw later that he meant the other.

"After a few moments, the creatures came rushing back—first one, then
another. Their pushcarts were full of stones, sand, chunks of rubbery plants,
and such rubbish as that. They droned out their friendly greeting, which
didn't really sound so friendly, and dashed on. The third one I assumed to be
my first acquaintance and I decided to have another chat with him. I
stepped into his path again and waited.

"Up he came, booming out his 'We are v-r-r-riends' and stopped. I looked at
him; four or five of his eyes looked at me. He tried his password again and
gave a shove on his cart, but I stood firm. And then the—the dashed
creature reached out one of his arms, and two finger-like nippers tweaked
my nose!"

"Haw!" roared Harrison. "Maybe the things have a sense of beauty!"

"Laugh!" grumbled Jarvis. "I'd already had a nasty bump and a mean
frostbite on that nose. Anyway, I yelled 'Ouch!' and jumped aside and the
creature dashed away; but from then on, their greeting was 'We are v-r-r-
riends! Ouch!' Queer beasts!

"Tweel and I followed the road squarely up to the nearest mound. The
creatures were coming and going, paying us not the slightest attention,
fetching their loads of rubbish. The road simply dived into an opening, and
slanted down like an old mine, and in and out darted the barrel-people,
greeting us with their eternal phrase.

"I looked in; there was a light somewhere below, and I was curious to see it.
It didn't look like a flame or torch, you understand, but more like a civilized
light, and I thought that I might get some clue as to the creatures'
development. So in I went and Tweel tagged along, not without a few trills
and twitters, however.

"The light was curious; it sputtered and flared like an old arc light, but came
from a single black rod set in the wall of the p. 23 corridor. It was electric,
beyond doubt. The creatures were fairly civilized, apparently.

"Then I saw another light shining on something that glittered and I went on
to look at that, but it was only a heap of shiny sand. I turned toward the

entrance to leave, and the Devil take me if it wasn't gone!

"I suppose the corridor had curved, or I'd stepped into a side passage.
Anyway, I walked back in that direction I thought we'd come, and all I saw
was more dimlit corridor. The place was a labyrinth! There was nothing but
twisting passages running every way, lit by occasional lights, and now and
then a creature running by, sometimes with a pushcart, sometimes without.

"Well, I wasn't much worried at first. Tweel and I had only come a few
steps from the entrance. But every move we made after that seemed to get
us in deeper. Finally I tried following one of the creatures with an empty
cart, thinking that he'd be going out for his rubbish, but he ran around
aimlessly, into one passage and out another. When he started dashing
around a pillar like one of these Japanese waltzing mice, I gave up, dumped
my water tank on the floor, and sat down.

"Tweel was as lost as I. I pointed up and he said 'No—no—no!' in a sort of
helpless trill. And we couldn't get any help from the natives. They paid no
attention at all, except to assure us they were friends—ouch!

"Lord! I don't know how many hours or days we wandered around there! I
slept twice from sheer exhaustion; Tweel never seemed to need sleep. We
tried following only the upward corridors, but they'd run uphill a ways and
then curve downwards. The temperature in that damned ant hill was
constant; you couldn't tell night from day and after my first sleep I didn't
know whether I'd slept one hour or thirteen, so I couldn't tell from my
watch whether it was midnight or noon.

"We saw plenty of strange things. There were machines running in some of
the corridors, but they didn't seem to be doing anything—just wheels
turning. And several times I saw two barrel-beasts with a little one growing
between them, joined to both."

"Parthenogenesis!" exulted Leroy. "Parthenogenesis by budding like les
tulipes!"

p. 24

"If you say so, Frenchy," agreed Jarvis. "The things never noticed us at all,
except, as I say, to greet us with 'We are v-r-r-riends! Ouch!' They seemed
to have no home-life of any sort, but just scurried around with their
pushcarts, bringing in rubbish. And finally I discovered what they did with
it.

"We'd had a little luck with a corridor, one that slanted upwards for a great
distance. I was feeling that we ought to be close to the surface when
suddenly the passage debouched into a domed chamber, the only one we'd
seen. And man!—I felt like dancing when I saw what looked like daylight
through a crevice in the roof.

"There was a—a sort of machine in the chamber, just an enormous wheel
that turned slowly, and one of the creatures was in the act of dumping his
rubbish below it. The wheel ground it with a crunch—sand, stones, plants,
all into powder that sifted away somewhere. While we watched, others filed
in, repeating the process, and that seemed to be all. No rhyme nor reason to
the whole thing—but that's characteristic of this crazy planet. And there was
another fact that's almost too bizarre to believe.

"One of the creatures, having dumped his load, pushed his cart aside with a
crash and calmly shoved himself under the wheel! I watched him being
crushed, too stupefied to make a sound, and a moment later, another
followed him! They were perfectly methodical about it, too; one of the
cartless creatures took the abandoned pushcart.

"Tweel didn't seem surprised; I pointed out the next suicide to him, and he
just gave the most human-like shrug imaginable, as much as to say, 'What
can I do about it?' He must have known more or less about these creatures.

"Then I saw something else. There was something beyond the wheel,
something shining on a sort of low pedestal. I walked over; there was a little
crystal about the size of an egg, fluorescing to beat Tophet. The light from it
stung my hands and face, almost like a static discharge, and then I noticed
another funny thing. Remember that wart I had on my left thumb? Look!"
Jarvis extended his hand. "It dried up and fell off—just like that! And my
abused nose—say, the pain went out of it like magic! The thing had the

property of hard x-rays or gamma radiations, only more so; it destroyed
diseased tissue and left healthy tissue unharmed!

p. 25

"I was thinking what a present that'd be to take back to Mother Earth when
a lot of racket interrupted. We dashed back to the other side of the wheel in
time to see one of the pushcarts ground up. Some suicide had been careless,
it seems.

"Then suddenly the creatures were booming and drumming all around us
and their noise was decidedly menacing. A crowd of them advanced toward
us; we backed out of what I thought was the passage we'd entered by, and
they came rumbling after us, some pushing carts and some not. Crazy
brutes! There was a whole chorus of 'We are v-r-r-riends! Ouch!' I didn't
like the 'ouch'; it was rather suggestive.

"Tweel had his glass gun out and I dumped my water tank for greater
freedom and got mine. We backed up the corridor with the barrel-beasts
following—about twenty of them. Queer thing—the ones coming in with
loaded carts moved past us inches away without a sign.

"Tweel must have noticed that. Suddenly, he snatched out that glowing coal
cigar-lighter of his and touched a cart-load of plant limbs. Puff! The whole
load was burning—and the crazy beast pushing it went right along without
a change of pace! It created some disturbance among our 'V-r-r-riends,'
however—and then I noticed the smoke eddying and swirling past us, and
sure enough, there was the entrance!

"I grabbed Tweel and out we dashed and after us our twenty pursuers. The
daylight felt like Heaven, though I saw at first glance that the sun was all
but set, and that was bad, since I couldn't live outside my thermo-skin bag
in a Martian night—at least, without a fire.

"And things got worse in a hurry. They cornered us in an angle between two
mounds, and there we stood. I hadn't fired nor had Tweel; there wasn't any
use in irritating the brutes. They stopped a little distance away and began
their booming about friendship and ouches.

"Then things got still worse! A barrel-brute came out with a pushcart and
they all grabbed into it and came out with handfuls of foot-long copper
darts—sharp-looking ones—and all of a sudden one sailed past my ear—
zing! And it was shoot or die then.

"We were doing pretty well for a while. We picked off the ones next to the
pushcart and managed to keep the darts at a p. 26 minimum, but suddenly
there was a thunderous booming of 'v-r-r-riends' and 'ouches,' and a whole
army of 'em came out of their hole.

"Man! We were through and I knew it! Then I realized that Tweel wasn't.
He could have leaped the mound behind us as easily as not. He was staying
for me!

"Say, I could have cried if there'd been time! I'd liked Tweel from the first,
but whether I'd have had gratitude to do what he was doing—suppose I had
saved him from the first dream-beast—he'd done as much for me, hadn't
he? I grabbed his arm, and said 'Tweel,' and pointed up, and he understood.
He said, 'No—no—no, Tick!' and popped away with his glass pistol.

"What could I do? I'd be a goner anyway when the sun set, but I couldn't
explain that to him. I said, 'Thanks, Tweel. You're a man!' and felt that I
wasn't paying him any compliment at all. A man! There are mighty few men
who'd do that.

"So I went 'bang' with my gun and Tweel went 'puff' with his, and the
barrels were throwing darts and getting ready to rush us, and booming about
being friends. I had given up hope. Then suddenly an angel dropped right
down from Heaven in the shape of Putz, with his under-jets blasting the
barrels into very small pieces!

"Wow! I let out a yell and dashed for the rocket; Putz opened the door and
in I went, laughing and crying and shouting! It was a moment or so before I
remembered Tweel; I looked around in time to see him rising in one of his
nosedives over the mound and away.

"I had a devil of a job arguing Putz into following! By the time we got the
rocket aloft, darkness was down; you know how it comes here—like

turning off a light. We sailed out over the desert and put down once or
twice. I yelled 'Tweel!' and yelled it a hundred times, I guess. We couldn't
find him; he could travel like the wind and all I got—or else I imagined it—
was a faint trilling and twittering drifting out of the south. He'd gone, and
damn it! I wish—I wish he hadn't!"

The four men of the Ares were silent—even the sardonic Harrison. At last
little Leroy broke the stillness.

"I should like to see," he murmured.

"Yeah," said Harrison. "And the wart-cure. Too bad you p. 27 missed that; it
might be the cancer cure they've been hunting for a century and a half."

"Oh, that!" muttered Jarvis gloomily. "That's what started the fight!" He
drew a glistening object from his pocket.

"Here it is."

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