n, it was
to these loyal and amiable beings that ITA's engineers turned for
workers who could endure the stifling heat of the underground
workings.

The tent-flap was thrust aside, and a hawk-nosed Scot came sleepily
in, to be enthusiastically greeted by Jim.

"Hello, you old Caledonian. 'Bout time you showed up."

* * * * *

The newcomer fixed the speaker with a dour gaze. "An' why should I
commence my tour o' dooty befair the time?"

"Because your chief, Mr. Darl Thomas, decided that he's a filliloo
bird or somethin', flew to his little nest up top, an' forgot to come
down again."

"Is this ain o' your jests, James Holcomb? I eenquire mairly that I
may ken when to laugh."

"It's no joke, Mac. Last I see o' him he's skippin' around the roof
like he has a buzzin' propeller stuck to his shoulder blades. He
lights on th' air-lock platform, pops inside, an' goes dead for all I
know."

From his bony legs to his scrawny neck the Scotchman's angular body,
as nearly nude as that of the others, radiated the doubt that was
expressed in every seam and wrinkle of his hatchet face.

"That's straight, Angus, may I kiss a pink-eared _vanta_ if it ain't.
Here's what happened." The bantering grin disappeared from Jim's
countenance as he detailed the events that had preceded Darl's
vanishing. "That was two hours ago," he concluded, "and I've been
getting pretty uneasy about him."

"Why did na ye call me, so that ain o' us micht eenvestigate?"

"Hell. Darl wasn't born yesterday, he can take care of himself.
Besides, your last shift was pretty strenuous, an' I thought I'd let
you sleep. No tellin' what might happen next; this forsaken place has
been givin' me the jim-jams lately."

"Your conseederation is touching, but--" A scratching at the door,
accompanied by a high squeak, interrupted him.

* * * * *

To Jim's shouted "Come in," there entered a Venusian, whose red
rosette fastened to the green scales of his skin marked him an
overseer. In the thread-like fingers of his hand he held a time-sheet,
but the nervous pulsing of his gill-membranes caused Holcomb to
exclaim anxiously: "What's wrong, Ran-los? No accident, I hope?"

The shrill combination of squeaks and twitterings that came from the
man-reptile's toothless mouth meant nothing to the Scot, but Jim's
last service had been on Venus and he had gained a working knowledge
of the language. Finally the