the trader's shack passed without mishap and Dillon
went to sleep quite pleased.

* * * * *

Ten days passed. They were days of intensified effort for Dillon, as he
went about the task of setting up the rest of the post. The warehouse
came first, and the living quarters. The office that had been serving
double-duty reverted to its primary function.

Occasionally a few natives would drop around to gaze at the
work-in-progress, but they would soon grow bored, and drift away to
other amusements. He had twice been back to the village to look at the
boy, but so far nothing else had come up to require his meagre medical
knowledge. He was beginning to think that he might last out until the
priest returned. He had been rereading the regulations covering contact,
and the penalties were much too harsh for his liking. He began to worry
about hiding traces of his one experiment.

The noonday sun was on the wane when he finished wrestling the last of a
group of bins into the warehouse. He pulled out his kerchief, and wiped
the accumulated sweat from his eyes. The summer season was full on the
land, and the heat was as bad as any he had seen on Earth.

He brought his lunch out to the office porch, and sank down in the
rocker that he had brought from his last post. There was a slight breeze
blowing diagonally across the clearing in front of the building, and he
shifted around to receive its full benefit.

The first bite was scarcely in his mouth when Bila came into sight
around the bend of the path. He cursed silently, and put down his
sandwich. He stood up to welcome the alien.

"Tarsa, Bila," he said. "What brings you here today?"

"Sadness again wearies our people, and we know not what to do. The Gods
are indeed angered with us, and our priest is still away."

"Just what is it this time?"

"It is Kylano. He is at death's door, and the messengers of the Gods can
be heard waiting to take him beyond." Two tears broke loose and rolled
down his leathery gray cheeks.

"The boy's father?" said Dillon. The alien nodded.

"But what is wrong with him?"

"Alas, we do not know. He was swimming in the lake, when a demon
possessed one of the fishes, and bit him on the leg. When he came out of
the water, a fever lay heavily over him, and he has become unconscious."

"And you want me to save him." It was a statement, rather than a
question, and the native recognized it as such.

"If it be within you