Maybe I'll start running around
mindlessly and get shot down by some patrol robot who thinks I'm a
snith._

Maybe he should have investigated first and then called, when he was
sure, one way or another. Maybe he should have told Baythim he was
certain it was a hoax, instead of hedging his bets. Maybe a lot of
things, but it was too--

"Hello? Yes, sir. None, eh? Yes, sir. Yes, sir; I'll give you a call
as soon as I've checked. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Dodeth felt like an absolute fool. Individually and collectively, he
consigned to the frying pan Baythim, Wygor, Yerdeth, the new beast--if
it existed--and finally, himself.

By the time he had finished his all-encompassing curse, his two dozen
pistoning legs had nearly brought him to the equipment room, where
Ardan and Wygor were waiting.

* * * * *

Four hours and more of steady traveling did very little to sweeten
Dodeth Pell's temper. The armored car was uncomfortable, and the
silence within it was even more uncomfortable. He did not at all feel
like making small talk with Wygor, and he had nothing as yet to say to
Ardan or the patrol robots who were rolling along with the armored
car.

One thing he had to admit: Wygor certainly didn't act like a man who
was being carried to his own doom--which he certainly was if this was
hoax. Wygor would lose all position and be reduced to living off his
civil insurance. He would be pitied by all and respected by none.

But he didn't look as though that worried him at all.

Dodeth contented himself with looking at the scenery. The car was not
yet into the forest country; this was all rolling grassland. Off to
one side, a small herd of grazing grancos lifted their graceful heads
to watch the passage of the expedition, then lowered them again to
feed. A fanged zitibanth, disturbed in the act of stalking the
grancos, stiffened all his legs and froze for a moment, looking
balefully at the car and the robots, then went on about his business.

When they came to the forest, the going became somewhat harder.
Centuries ago, those who had tried to build cities on the surface had
also built paved strips to make travel by car easier and smoother, and
Dodeth almost wished there were one leading to the target area.

Fry it, he _hated_ traveling! Especially in a lurching armored car. He
wished he were bored enough or tired enough to go to sleep.

At last--at _long_ last--Wygor ordered the car to sto