it was absolutely imperative that he get back to
Simonides at the earliest possible moment, and that the way to be sure
of this was to so impress Philander that he would feel duty-bound to
give Hanlon his vacation at end of the minimum time.

So Hanlon devoted many hours of serious thought to this problem, and
finally figured out several courses of action. The next day, as soon as
his shift was over, Hanlon walked across the compound and knocked on the
door of the headquarters office. When bade to enter he did so, hat in
hand.

"Have you got a half hour or so to talk, Mr. Philander, sir?" he asked.
"I've got a couple of ideas I'd like to gab with you about, that I think
might speed up production even more."

The man looked up in surprise, and his eyes bored deeply, suspiciously
into Hanlon's. "You think you can tell me how to run my job?" he rasped.

"Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean about the engineering or supervision. It's
about handling the natives, and getting more out of them. You've said I
was getting out more ore than the others, and I think perhaps I've got a
few ideas--a sort of hunch about making the Greenies themselves more
productive."

"Well, come in, come in then. What is it?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Greenies, sir. You remember
I thought they were vegetable matter, and the way they feed themselves
they'd need ground that either has lots of natural chemicals in it, or
that has been well-fertilized, to keep 'em well and strong. That being
the case, the dirt that forms the floors of their huts and stockades
would very quickly become exhausted of those vital chemicals, and the
natives would begin suffering from malnutrition, it seems to me. My gang
has been slowing down recently, although they still seem to be trying as
hard as ever."

"Why ... why, yes," the superintendent's eyes had widened in surprise as
Hanlon talked. "That makes sense. Imagine none of us thinking of that!
But then, we've always thought of them merely as dumb beasts."

"So I've been wondering if it wouldn't be a good idea either to move the
stockades every month or so, or else let the natives 'feed' out in the
open jungle every day--the sunlight would probably help them, too, being
vegetable. They could be tied together and guarded, of course, so they
couldn't escape."

Philander slumped down into his chair in deep thought, and Hanlon glowed
inwardly with the hope that something would come of this plan. It would