kinds of plants in there at special low temperatures. You might have let
in hot air and ruined something."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Roger. "I didn't know."

"Forget it," replied the planter. "Well, let's get back to the house.
We're having an early dinner. You boys have to get started at four
o'clock in the morning."

"Four o'clock!" exclaimed Roger.

"Why?" asked Tom.

"We have to go deep into the thicket," Astro explained, using the local
term for the jungle, "so that at high noon we can make camp and take a
break. You can't move out there at noon. It gets so hot you'd fall on
your face after fifteen minutes of fighting the creepers."

"Everything stops at noon," added Sinclair. "Even the tyrannosaurus. You
have to do your traveling in the cool of the day, early and late. Six
hours or so will take you far enough away from the plantation to find
tracks, if there are any."

"Tell me, Mr. Sinclair," asked Roger suddenly, "is this the whole
plantation?" He spread his hands in a wide arc, taking in the clearing
to the edge of the jungle.

Sinclair grinned. "Roger, it'd take a man two weeks to go from one
corner of my property to another. This is just where I live. Three years
ago I had five hundred square miles under cultivation."

Back in the house, they found George setting the table on the porch and
his wife busy in the kitchen. Mrs. Hill was a stout woman, with a
pleasant face and a ready smile. With very little ceremony, the cadets,
Sinclair, George, and his wife sat down to eat. The food was simple
fare, but the sure touch of Mrs. Hill's cooking and the free use of
delicate Venusian jungle spices added exotic flavor, new but immensely
satisfying to the three hungry boys, a satisfaction they demonstrated by
cleaning their plates quickly and coming back for second helpings.
Astro, of course, was not happy until he had polished off his fourth
round. Mrs. Hill beamed with pleasure at their unspoken compliment to
her cooking.

After the meal, Mrs. Hill stacked the dishes and put them into a small
carrier concealed in the wall. Pressing a button, near the opening, she
explained, "That dingus takes them to the sink, washes them, dries them,
and puts everything in its right place. That's the kind of modern living
I like!"

As the sun dropped behind the wall of the jungle and the sky darkened,
they all relaxed. Sinclair and George smoked contentedly, Mrs. Hill
brought out some needle point, and the three cadets