ey
may not be planting anything in an orderly fashion. But they _are_
cultivating. And it all adds up to the same thing. They are increasing
an edible crop by eliminating--well, weeds. And if they can do that,
they should have a corresponding cultural development.

"Another thing bothers me," Gallifa complained. "If these stupids are a
natural prey for animals, as unprotected as they are, I should think
they would live in some kind of thick brambles. That at least would give
them some measure of safety. I think the bio team is going to have more
than their share of headaches."

"Let's work on it tomorrow," MacFarland suggested tiredly. "I want to
get back to camp."

Hawkins returned them to the truck, and Gallifa and MacFarland jolted
off into the gathering dusk. It was fully dark by the time they reached
the camp.

Gallifa checked his team, then gathered their various findings together
and sent them over to the Administration Building for further
evaluation. Samuels didn't check in with the rest. Gallifa assumed that
he was busy with the gnomes. He wanted to discuss the queer creatures
with him, and wandered over to the specimen shack. Samuels wasn't there.
Neither were any of the natives.

Gallifa returned to the team shack and left a note on Samuel's bunk
telling him where he could be found. Then he went over to the
Administration Building to work with MacFarland. The next few hours he
and MacFarland were so busy sorting material and feeding it to the
analyzers that he forgot his aide.

Finally Gallifa finished verifying the last of a huge stack of
photographs, and stuffed the important ones into a plastic envelope. He
added the date seal, initialed it, and handed it to one of the men to
take to the laboratory for micro-filming. Then he produced a battered
pipe and filled it with tobacco, slowly tamping the bowl with his
fingers.

He had just about finished his smoke when the messenger returned to the
Administration Building. "--Gallifa," he began.

Gallifa knew that something was wrong by the way the man hesitated. He
sprang up. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Some of the boys ran into Samuels over on the edge of camp," the
messenger said miserably. "He was clear out of his head. He fought like
a tiger, and they had to tie him hand and foot to get him over to the
sick bay. The doctor wants you to come right over."

Gallifa turned a white face to MacFarland. "What the devil," he said
woodenly. "Is my w