" said Adam. "It might just look as
if we were fighting. None of their toys show a sign of war being ever
waged by this race, like our own kids' toys do."

"The toys of any people reflect their civilization in an unreliable and
distorted way," said Cal Full rather stuffily. "A visitor from Mars in
one of our playrooms would conclude that we already have spaceships and
ray guns, and that our usual clothing is chaps, sombreros, and
spacesuits."

"They'll get the idea," Watkins said impatiently. The giant children
outside were bawling the word that meant "Come!" He was in a hurry.
These fools were always arguing. "Let's go," he said. "The four of you
line up over there, catch the kids' eyes, and High-pockets can boost me
up to the beam. Then he'll join you."

* * * * *

Watkins grinned tightly, slapped Adam on the shoulder, poked Villa in
the belly, and dived behind the nearest many-colored pile of gear the
moment he saw the children weren't watching him. As he went toward the
door, he heard Villa saying, "My fourth cousin Pancho was a great man
for war, so I will be general. Spread out in the thin line and be ready
to march when I command."

Summersby followed Watkins, and they came to the door. Watkins managed
to get up on the big man's shoulders, and waved a hand above his head.
Nothing happened.

"Stand on them," said Summersby.

He struggled to do so. "_Un_, _dos_, _tres_," roared the Mexican down
the hall. "Begin!"

This time Watkins found the beam. The door glided aside. He dropped off
Summersby's shoulders, jumped into the next room. A quick look showed
him it was empty. As the door closed he heard Villa shouting hoarsely.

"Make bang noises for the guns. Fall dead, spring to life. We are
mountain fighters of great skill. Climb on machines, drop off with
bullets in your head, play you are--"

The door cut him off. Watkins chuckled. "What a ham," he said. He
started for the opposite door.

X

It was ten minutes to twelve. Summersby was panting like a spent hound.
He had not exercised in months, not since the doctors had told him his
heart was just about gone, and he was surprised that he hadn't keeled
over before now. Dashing around playing guerrilla like some
six-year-old! It had been a damn good idea, though. The giant
children--there were two of them today--were still enthralled, lying on
their bellies with their furry watermelon heads propped in fantastic
two-t