so. Why? Why!"

"I dared not."

"Danger? From a small boy?"

"Deadly danger--danger of infection that might threaten every
intelligent race in the galaxy and even spread across the great gulfs of
space beyond--"

"All this from poor little Timmy?"

"From what he might thereby become."

"I'm licked." Phil threw out his hands angrily. "I try to get a straight
answer and all I get is implications. You tell me an outrageous story,
and I believe you. You tell me you've neatly arranged to break the
hearts of two of my best friends, and I respect your good intentions in
doing so. Why? I love you like a brother, but I'm ready to take a rock
and crush your skull in for a monster. I mean it! I could kill Homer
with a single kick! I could--"

"I know, and I'm afraid of that hysterical impulse. I know the nature of
the struggle going on in your mind better than you do, but only you can
fight for control. I must wait for the outcome. When you have control of
yourself--"

"You're so bloody sane and smug you with your secondhand suit and
hand-me-down knowledge!" He jumped up in a fury and turned his back on
Timmy, addressing himself directly to Homer whose patient, pain-filled
eyes held undeniable understanding. "Look at you! The telepathic genius
with personal immortality--at a price only you could stomach! Too bad
you got caught short and had to live in a cur! Tough, isn't it, having
to wait for a mere moron to get control of himself! _You_ know all the
answers--why don't _you_ control the situation?"

"Because the hand-me-down knowledge is no longer backed by the mental
capacity of a Challon."

Phil stiffened as Tim's answering voice sounded behind him, quiet and
friendly. Against his will, he turned back to the boy and seated himself
again on the log. The boy's eyes caught and held his.

"The morality and outlook of the Challon are my morality and outlook,
whether I wish it so or not." Tim might have been making a pleasantly
inconsequential remark about the weather for all the importance he
seemed to attach to his statement, yet his eyes held the strained,
tight-lipped face. "The insight and understanding bequeathed by the
Challon are sufficient to keep Homer's mind sane under long stress,
and of course--"

His soothing voice went on and on, and presently his lungs expelled
a soft breath of relief as Phil relaxed a trifle, still breathing
raggedly. Alert eyes watched him mop his damp forehead but the quiet
words