lk of what I
should have done. At any rate...."

* * * * *

"Where is the boy, Bila?" asked Dillon as he came up to the alien again.

"At my village, starman. Come." He slipped down the path and was soon
swallowed by the darkness. The Earthman hurried after, afraid of being
lost in the almost impenetrable night.

He had forgotten the flashlight again, and he cursed as he stumbled over
an unseen obstruction.

"Bila!" he called.

"Yes, starman?" The alien appeared as if from nowhere.

"I'm afraid that I'm not as gifted as you when it comes to traveling at
night without light. You had better let me hold onto your shoulder."

"Of course, starman. I am most sorry for causing you trouble."

"It's my own fault. I should have remembered the light. Let's get going
again." He placed his hand on the alien's shoulder, and they started off
again.

Despite his guide, he twice stumbled over obstructions, and would have
fallen but for his grip on the other's shoulder. Bila waited while he
steadied himself, and then started off again, keeping up a fast pace.

The village lay three miles from the post, and during the day, Dillon
considered it nothing more than a brisk walk. But the blindness that
came with the dark wiped out all realization of time and space, and he
soon began to think that they must have passed it by, when the alien
spoke.

"We are here, starman."

They rounded a bend, and a cluster of huts came into view, lit by the
dim light of a few scattered lamps. The alien threaded his way through
the narrow lanes between the huts, and stopped outside one of the
largest in the group. He held the hangings aside, and Dillon stooped to
enter.

The hut was already crowded with natives. The smoke from half a dozen of
the sputtering lamps hung like a shroud over the interior, and the
Earthman's eyes were soon smarting. He wondered how the natives, with
their much larger eyes, could stand it.

The injured boy lay on a pallet in the center of the hut. An animal skin
had been thrown over him, with the broken arm exposed. Dillon knelt by
him, and felt it over carefully.

"A clean break, thank God," he said, more to himself than his audience.

The boy whimpered, and he reached for the bag, and rummaged around.
Finally he pulled out an already prepared hypo, loaded with a sedative.
He swabbed the boy's good arm, and pressed the needle home.

The natives moved forward when they saw the need