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A TENDERFOOT IN SPACE
When this book was in process, Dr. Kondo asked me whether there were any stories of RobertÆs which had not been reprinted. On looking over the list of stories, I found that ôA Tenderfoot in Spaceö had never been printed in anything except when it originally appeared in BoysÆ Life. All copies in our possession had been sent to the UCSC Archives, so! asked them to Xerox those and send them to me. And found this introduction by Robert, which he had added to the carbon in the library before he sent it down there. I was completely surprised, and asked Dr. Kondo whether he would like to use it? Here it is.
ùVirginia Heinlein
This was written a year before Sputnik and is laid on the Venus earthbound astronomers inferred before space probes. Two hours of rewritingùa word here, a word thereùcould change it to a planet around some other star. But to. what purpose? Would The Tempset be improved if Bohemia had a sea coast? If! ever publish that
collection of Boy Scout stories, this story will appear unchanged.
Nixie is (of course) my own dog. But in 1919, when I was 12 and a Scout, he had to leave meùa streetcar hit him.
If this universe has any reasonable teleology whatever (a point on which I am unsure), then there is some provision for the Nixies in it.
I
ôHeel, Nixie,ö the boy said softly, ôand keep quiet.ö
The little mongrel took position left and rear of his boy, waited. He could feel that Charlie was upset and he wanted to know whyùbut an order from Charlie could not be questioned.
The boy tried to see whether or not the policeman was. noticing them. He felt light-headedùneither he nor his dog had eaten that day. They had stopped in front of this supermarket, not to buy for the boy had no money left, but because of a ôBOY WANTEDö sign in the window.
It was then that he had noticed the reflection of the policeman in the glass.
The boy hesitated, trying to collect his cloudy thoughts. Should he go inside and ask for the job? Or should he saunter past the policeman? Pretend to be just out for a walk?
The boy decided to go on, get out of sight. He signalled the dog to stay close and turned away from the window. Nixie came along, tail high. He did not care where they went as long as he was with Charlie. Charlie had belonged to him as far back as he could remember; he could imagine no other condition. In fact Nixie would not have lived past his tenth day had not Charlie fallen in love with him; Nixie had been the least attractive of an unfortunate litter; his mother was Champion Lady Diana of Ojaiùhis father was unknown.
But Nixie was not aware that a neighbor boy had begged his life from his first owners. His philosophy was simple: enough to eat, enough sleep, and the rest of his time spent playing with Charlie. This present outing had been CharlieÆs idea, but any outing was welcome. The shortage of food was a nuisance but Nixie automatically forgave Charlie such errorsùafter all, boys will be boys and a wise dog accepted the fact. The only thing that troubled him was that Charlie did not have the happy heart which was a proper part of all hikes.
As they moved past the man in the blue uniform, Nixie felt the manÆs interest in them, sniffed his odor, but could find no real unfriendliness in it. But Charlie was nervous, alert, so Nixie kept his own attention high.
The man in uniform said, ôJust a moment, sonùö
Charlie stopped, Nixie stopped. ôYou speaking to me, officer?ö
ôYes. WhatÆs your dogÆs name?ö
Nixie felt CharlieÆs sudden terror, got ready to attack. He had never yet had to bite anyone for his boyùbut he was instantly ready. The hair between his shoulder blades stood up.
Charlie answered, ôUh. . . his name is æSpot.ö
ôSo?ö The stranger said sharply, ôNixie!ö
Nixie had been keeping his eyes elsewhere, in order not to distract his ears, his nose, and the inner sense with which he touched peopleÆs feelings. But he was so startled at hearing this stranger call him by name that he turned his head and looked at him.
ôHis name is æSpot,Æ is it?ö the policeman said quietly. ôAnd mine is Santa Claus. But youÆre Charlie Vaughn and youÆre going home.ö He spoke into his helmet phone: ôNelson, reporting a pickup on that Vaughn missing-persons flier. Send a car. IÆm in front of the new supermarket.ö
Nixie had trouble sorting out CharlieÆs feelings; they were both sad and glad. The strangerÆs feelings were slightly happy but mostly nothing; Nixie decided to wait
and see. He enjoyed the ride in the police car, as he always enjoyed rides, but Charlie did not, which spoiled it a little.
They were taken to the local Justice of the Peace. ôYouÆre Charles Vaughn?ö
NixieÆs boy felt unhappy and said nothing.
ôSpeak up, son,ö insisted the old man. ôIf you arenÆt, then you must have stolen that dog.ö He read from a paper ôùaccompanied by a small brown mongrel, male, well trained, responds to the name æNixie.Æ Well?ö
NixieÆs boy answered faintly, ôIÆm Charlie Vaughn.ö
ôThatÆs better. YouÆll stay here until your parents pick you up.ö The judge frowned. ôI canÆt understand your running away. Your folks are emigrating to Venus, arenÆt they?ö
ôYes, sir.ö
ôYouÆre the first boy I ever met who didnÆt want to make the Big Jump.ö He pointed to a pin on the boyÆs lapel. ôAnd I thought Scouts were trustworthy. Not to mention obedient. What got into you, son? Are you scared of the Big Jump? æA Scout is Brave.Æ That doesnÆt mean you donÆt have to be scaredùeverybody is at times. æBraveÆ simply means you donÆt run even if you are scared.ö
ôIÆm not scared,ö Charlie said stubbornly. ôI want to go to Venus.ö
ôThen why run away when your family is about to leave?ö
Nixie felt such a burst of warm happy-sadness from Charlie that he licked his hand. ôBecause Nixie canÆt go!ö
ôOh.ö The judge looked at boy and dog. ôIÆm sorry, son. That problem is beyond my jurisdiction.ö He drummed his desk top. ôCharlie. . . will you promise, ScoutÆs honor, not to run away again until your parents show up?ö
ôUh . . . yes, sir.ö
ôOkay. Joe, take them to my place. Tell my wife she had better see how recently theyÆve had anything to eat.ö
The trip home was long. Nixie enjoyed it, even though CharlieÆs father was happy-angry and his mother was happy-sad and Charlie himself was happy-sad-worried. When Nixie was home he checked quickly through each room, making sure that all was in order and that there were no new smells. Then he returned to Charlie.
The feelings had changed. Mr. Vaughn was angry, Mrs. Vaughn was sad, Charlie himself gave out such bitter stubbornness that Nixie went to him, jumped onto his lap, and tried to lick his face. Charlie settled Nixie beside him, started digging fingers into the loose skin back of NixieÆs neck. Nixie quieted at once, satisfied that he and his boy could face together whatever it wasùbut it distressed him that the other two were not happy. Charlie belonged to him; they belonged to Charlie; things were better when they were happy, too.
Mr. Vaughn said, ôGo to bed, young man, and sleep on it. IÆll speak with you again tomorrow.ö
ôYes, sir. Good night, sir.ö
ôKiss your mother goodnight. One thing moreùDo I need to lock doors to be sure you will be here in the morning?ö
ôNo, sir.ö
Nixie got on the foot of the bed as usual, tromped out a space, laid his tail over his nose, and started to go to sleep. But his boy was not sleeping; his sadness was taking the distressing form of heaves and sobs. So Nixie got up, went to the other end of the bed and licked away tearsùthen let himself be pulled into CharlieÆs arms and tears applied directly to his neck. It was not comfortable and too hot, besides being taboo. But it was worth enduring as Charlie started to quiet down, presently went to sleep.
Nixie waited, gave him a lick on the face to check his sleeping, then moved to his end of the bed.
Mrs. Vaughn said to Mr. Vaughn, ôCharles, isnÆt there anything we can do for the boy?ö
ôConfound it, Nora. WeÆre getting to Venus with too little money as it is. If anything goes wrong, weÆll be dependent on charity.ö
ôBut we do have a little spare cash.ö
ôToo little. Do you think I havenÆt considered it? Why, the fare for that worthless dog would be almost as much as it is for Charlie himself! Out of the question! So why nag me? Do you think I enjoy this decision?ö
ôNo, dear.ö Mrs. Vaughn pondered. ôHow much does Nixie weigh? I. . . well, I think I could reduce ten more pounds if I really tried.ö
ôWhat? Do you want to arrive on Venus a living skeleton? YouÆve reduced all the doctor advises, and so have I.ö
ôWell.. . I thought that if somehow, among us, we could squeeze out NixieÆs weightùitÆs not as if he were a St. Bernard! ùwe could swap it against what we weighed for our tickets.ö
Mr. Vaughn shook his head unhappily. ôThey donÆt do it that way.ö
ôYou told me yourself that weight was everything. You even got rid of your chess set.ö
ôWe could afford thirty pounds of chess sets, or china, or cheese, where we canÆt afford thirty pounds of dog.ö
ôI donÆt see why not.ö
ôLet me explain. Surely, itÆs weight; itÆs always weight in a space ship. But it isnÆt just my hundred and sixty pounds, or your hundred and twenty, not CharlieÆs hundred and ten. WeÆre not dead weight; we have to eat and drink and breathe air and have room to moveùthat last takes more weight because it takes more ship weight to hold a live person than it does for an equal weight in the cargo hold. For a human being there is a complicated formulaùhull weight equal to twice the passengerÆs weight, plus the number of days in space times four pounds. It takes a hundred and forty-six days to get to Venusùso it means that the calculated weight for each
of us amounts to six hundred and sixteen pounds before they even figure in our actual weights. But for a dog the rate is even higherùfive pounds per day instead of four.ö
ôThat seems unfair. Surely a little dog canÆt eat as much as a man? Why, NixieÆs food costs hardly anything.ö
Her husband snorted. ôNixie eats his own rations and half of what goes on CharlieÆs plate. However, itÆs not only the fact that a dog does eat more for his weight, but also they donÆt reprocess waste with a dog, not even for hydroponics.ö
ôWhy not? Oh, I know what you mean. But it seems silly.ö
ôThe passengers wouldnÆt like it. Never mind; the rule is: five pounds per day for dogs. Do you know what that makes NixieÆs fare? Over three thousand dollars!ö
ôMy goodness!ö
ôMy ticket comes to thirty-eight hundred dollars and some, you get by for thirty-four hundred, and CharlieÆs fare is thirty-three hundredùyet that confounded mongrel dog, which we couldnÆt sell for his veterinary bills, would cost three thousand dollars. If we had that to spareùwhich we havenÆtùthe humane thing would be to adopt some orphan, spend the money on him, and thereby give him a chance on an uncrowded planet... not waste it on a dog. Confound it!ùa year from now Charlie will have forgotten this dog.ö
ôI wonder.ö
ôHe will. When I was a kid, Ihad to give up dogsù more than once they died, or something. I got over it. Charlie has to make up his mind whether to give Nixie away. . . or have him put to sleep.ö He chewed his lip. ôWeÆll get him a pup on Venus.ö
ôIt wonÆt be Nixie.ö
ôHe can name it Nixie. HeÆll love it as much.ö
ôButùCharles, how is it there are dogs on Venus if itÆs so dreadfully expensive to get them there?ö
ôEh? I think the first exploring parties used them to scout. In any case theyÆre always shipping animals to Venus; our own ship is taking a load of milch cows.ö
ôThat must be terribly expensive.ö
ôYes and no. They ship them in sleep-freeze of course, and a lot of them never revive. But they cut their losses by butchering the dead ones and selling the meat at fancy prices to the colonists. Then the ones that live have calves and eventually it pays off.ö He stood up. ôNora, letÆs go to bed. ItÆs sadùbut our boy is going to have to make a manÆs decision. Give the mutt away, or have him put to sleep.ö
ôYes, dear.ö She sighed. ôIÆm coming.ö
Nixie was in his usual place at breakfastùlying beside CharlieÆs chair, accepting tidbits without calling attention to himself. He had learned long ago the rules of the dining room: no barking, no whining, no begging for food, no paws on laps, else the pets of his pet would make difficulties. Nixie was satisfied. He had learned as a puppy to take the world as it was, cheerful over its good points, patient with its minor shortcomings. Shoes were not to be chewed, people were not to be jumped on, most strangers must be allowed to approach the hOuse (subject, of course, to strict scrutiny and constant alertness)ùa few simple rules and everyone was happy. Live and let live.
He was aware that his boy was not happy even this beautiful morning. But he had explored this feeling carefully, touching his boyÆs mind with gentle care by means of his canine sense for feelings, and had decided, from his superior maturity, that the mood would wear off. Boys were sometimes sad and a wise dog was
resigned to it.
Mr. Vaughn finished his coffee, put his napkin aside. ôWell, young man?ö
Charlie did not answer. Nixie felt the sadness in Charlie change suddenly to a feeling more aggressive and
much stronger but no better. He pricked up his ears and waited.
ôChuck,ö his father said, ôlast night I gave you a choice. Have you made up your mind?ö
ôYes, Dad.ö CharlieÆs voice was very low.
ôEh? Then tell me.ö
Charlie looked at the tablecloth. ôYou and Mother go to Venus. Nixie and I are staying here.ö
Nixie could feel anger welling up in the man.. . felt him control it. ôYouÆre figuring on running away again?ö
ôNo, sir,ö Charlie answered stubbornly. ôYou can sign me over to the state school.ö
ôCharlie!ö It was CharlieÆs mother who spoke. Nixie tried to sort out the rush of emotions impinging on him.
ôYes,ö his father said at last, ôI could use your passage money to pay the state for your first three years or so, and agree to pay your support until you are eighteen. But I shanÆt.ö
ôHuh? Why not, Dad?ö
ôBecause, old-fashioned as it sounds, I am head of this family. I am responsible for itùand not just food, shelter, and clothing, but its total welfare. Until you are old enough to take care of yourself I mean to keep an eye on you. One of the prerogatives which go with my responsibility is deciding where the family shall live. I have a better job offered me on Venus than I could ever hope for here, so IÆm going to Venusùand my family goes with me.ö He drummed on the table, hesitated. ôI think your chances are better on a pioneer planet, tooùbut, when you are of age, if you think otherwise, IÆll pay your fare back to Earth. But you go with us. Understand?ö
Charlie nodded, his face glum.
ôVery well. IÆm amazed that you apparently care more for that dog than you do for your motherùand myself. Butùö
ôIt isnÆt that, Dad. Nixie needsùö
ôQuiet. I donÆt suppose you realize it, but I tried to
figure this outùIÆm not taking your dog away from you out of meanness. If I could afford it, IÆd buy the hound a ticket. But something your mother said last night brought up a third possibility.ö
Charlie looked up suddenly, and so did Nixie; wondering why the surge of hope in his boy.
ôI canÆt buy Nixie a ticket.. . but itÆs possible to ship him as freight.ö
ôHuh? Why, sure, Dad! Oh, I know heÆd have to be caged upùbut IÆd go down and feed him every day and pet him and tell him it was all right andùö
ôSlow down! I donÆt mean that. All I can afford is to have him shipped the way animals are always shipped in space ships. . . in sleep-freeze.ö
CharlieÆs mouth hung open. He managed to say, ôBut thatÆsùö
ôThatÆs dangerous. As near as I remember, itÆs about fifty-fifty whether he wakes up at the other end. But if you want to risk itùwell, perhaps itÆs better than giving him away to strangers, and IÆm sure you would prefer it to taking him down to the vetÆs and having him put to sleep.ö
Charlie did not answer. Nixie felt such a storm of conflicting emotions in Charlie that the dog violated dining room rules; he raised up and licked the boyÆs hand.
Charlie grabbed the dogÆs ear. ôAll right, Dad,ö he said gruffly. ôWeÆll risk itùif thatÆs the only way Nixie and I can still be partners.ö
Nixie did not enjoy the last few days before lτaving; they held too many changes. Any proper dog likes excitement, but home is for peace and quiet. Things should be orderly thereùfood and water always in the same place, newspapers to fetch at certain hours, milkmen to supervise at regular times, furniture all in its proper place. But during that week all was changeùnothing on time, nothing in order. Strange men came into the house
(always a matter for suspicion), and he, Nixie, was not even allowedto protest, much less give them the what-for they had coming.
He was assured by Charlie and Mrs. Vaughn that it was ôall rightö and he had to accept it, even though it obviously was not all right. His knowledge of English was accurate for a few dozen words but there was no way to explain to him that almost everything owned by the Vaughn family was being sold, or thrown away. . . nor would it have reassured him. Some things in life were permanent; he had never doubted that the Vaughn home was first among these certainties
By the night before they left, the rooms were bare except for beds. Nixie trotted around the house, sniffing places where familiar objects had been, asking his nose to tell him that his eyes deceived him, whining at the results. Even more upsetting than physical change was emotional change, a heady and not entirely happy excitement which he could feel in all three of his people.
There was a better time that evening, as Nixie was allowed to go to Scout meeting. Nixie always went on hikes and had formerly attended all meetings. But he now attended only outdoor meetings since an incident the previous winterùNixie felt that too much fuss had been made about it. . . just some spilled cocoa and a few broken cups and anyhow it had been that catÆs fault.
But this meeting he was allowed to attend because it was CharlieÆs last Scout meeting on Earth. Nixie was not aware of that but he greatly enjoyed the privilege, especially as the meeting was followed by a party at which Nixie became comfortably stuffed with hot dogs and pop. Scoutmaster McIntosh presented Charlie with a letter of withdrawal, certifying his status and merit badges and asking his admission into any troop on Venus. Nixie joined happily in the applause, trying to outbark the clapping.
Then the Scoutmaster said, æOkay, Rip.ö
Rip was senior patrol leader. He got up and said, ôQuiet, fellows. Hold it, you crazy savages! Charlie, I donÆt have to tell òyou that weÆre all sorry to see you go. . . but we hope you have a swell time on Venus and now and then send a postcard to Troop Twenty-Eight and tell us about itùweÆll post æem on the bulletin board. Anyhow, we wanted to get you a going-away present. But Mr. McIntosh pointed out that you were on a very strict weight allowance and practically anything would either cost you more to take with you than we had paid for it, or maybe you couldnÆt take it at all, which wouldnÆt be much of a present.
ôBut it finally occurred to us that we could do one thing. Nixieùö
NixieÆs ears pricked. Charlie said softly, ôSteady, boy.ö
ôNixie has been with us almost as long as you have. HeÆs been around, poking his cold nose into things, longer than any of the tenderfeet, and longer even than some of the second class. So we decided he ought to have his own letter of withdrawal, so that the troop you join on Venus will know that Nixie is a Scout in good standing. Give it to him, Kenny.ö
The scribe passed over the letter. It was phrased like CharlieÆs letter, save that it named ôNixie Vaughn, Tenderfoot Scoutö and diplomatically omitted the subject of merit badges. It was signed by the scribe, the scoutmaster, and the patrol leaders and countersigned by every member of the troop. Charlie showed it to Nixie, who sniffed it. Everybody applauded, so Nixie joined happily in applauding himself.
ôOne more thing,ö added Rip. ôNow that Nixie is officially a Scout, he has to have his badge. So send him front and center.ö
Charlie did so. They had worked their way through the Dog Care merit badge together while Nixie was a pup, all feet and floppy ears; it had made Nixie a much more acceptable member of the Vaughn family. But the rudimentary dog training required for the merit badge had
stirred CharlieÆs interest; they had gone on to Dog Obedience School together and Nixie had progressed from easy spoken commands to more difficult silent hand signals.
Charlie used them now. At his signal Nixie trotted forward, sat stiffly at attention, front paws neatly drooped in front of his chest, while Rip fastened the tenderfoot badge to his collar, then Nixie raised his right paw in salute and gave one short bark, all to hand signals.
The applause was loud and Nixie trembled with eagerness to join it. But Charlie signalled ôhold & quiet,ö so Ni-xie remained silently poised in salute until the clapping died away. He returned to heel just as silently, though quivering with excitement. The purpose of the ceremony may not have been clear to himùif so, he was not the first tenderfoot Scout to be a little confused. But it was perfectly clear that he was the center of attention and was being approved of by his friends; it was a high point in his life.
But all in all there had been too much excitement for a dog in one week; the trip to White Sands, shut up in a travel case and away from Charlie, was the last straw. When Charlie came to claim him at the baggage room of White Sands Airport, his relief was so great that he had a puppyish accident, and was bitterly ashamed.
He quieted down on the drive from airport to spaceport, then was disquieted again when he was taken into a room which reminded him of his unpleasant trips to the veterinaryùthe smells, the white-coated figure, the bare table where a dog had to hold still and be hurt. He stopped dead.
ôCome, Nixie!ö Charlie said firmly. ôNone of that, boy. Up!ö
Nixie gave a little sigh, advanced and jumped onto the examination table, stood docile but trembling.
ôHave him lie down,ö the man in the white smock said. ôIÆve got to get the needle into the large vein in his foreleg.ö
Nixie did so on CharlieÆs command, then lay tremblingly quiet while his left foreleg was shaved in a patch and sterilized. Charlie put a hand on NixieÆs shoulder blades and soothed him while the veterinary surgeon probed for the vein. Nixie bared his teeth once but did not growl, even though the fear in the boyÆs mind was beating on him, making him just as afraid.
Suddenly the drug reached his brain and he slumped limp.
CharlieÆs fear surged to a peak but Nixie did not feel it. NixieÆs tough little spirit had gone somewhere else, out of touch with his friend, out of space and timeù wherever it is that the ôIö within a man or a dog goes when the body wrapping it is unconscious.
Charlie said shrilly, ôIs he all right?ö
ôEh? Of course.ö
ôUh. . . I thought he had died.ö
ôWant to listen to his heart beat?ö
ôUh, noùif you say heÆs all right. Then heÆs going to be okay? HeÆll live through it?ö
The doctor glanced at CharlieÆs father, back at the boy, let his eyes rest on CharlieÆs lapel. ôStar Scout, eh?ö
ôUh, yes, sir.ö
ôGoing on to Eagle?ö
ôWell . . . IÆm going to try, sir.ö
ôGood. Look, son. If I put your dog over on that shelf, in a couple of hours heÆll be sleeping normally and by tomorrow he wonÆt even know he was out. But if I take him back to the chill room and start him on the cycleùö He shrugged. ôWell, IÆve put eighty head of cattle under today. If forty percent are revived, itÆs a good shipment. I do my best.ö
Charlie looked grey. The surgeon looked at Mr. Vaughn, back at the boy. ôSon, I know a man whoÆs looking for a dog for his kids. Say the word and you wonÆt have to worry about whether this poochÆs system will recover from a shock it was never intended to take.ö
Mr. Vaughn said, ôWell, son?ö
Charlie stood mute, in an agony of indecision. At last Mr. Vaughn said-sharply, ôChuck, weÆve got just twenty minutes before we must check in with Emigration. Well? WhatÆs your answer?ö
Charlie did not seem to hear. Timidly. he put out one hand, barely touched the still form with the staring, unseeing eyes. Then he snatched his hand back and squeaked, ôNo! WeÆre going to Venusùboth of us!öù turned and ran out of the room.
The veterinary spread his hands helplessly. ôI tried.ö
ôI know you - did, Doctor,ö Mr. Vaughn answered gravely. ôThank you.ö
The Vaughns took the usual emigrant routing: winged shuttle rocket to the inner satellite station, ugly wingless ferry rocket to the outer station, transshipment there to the great globular cargo liner Hesperus. The jumps and changes took two days; they stayed in the deepspace ship for twenty-one tedious weeks, falling in half-elliptical orbit from Earth down to Venus. The time was fixed, an inescapable consequence of the law of gravity and the sizes and shapes of the two planetary orbits.
At first Charlie was terribly excited. The terrific highgravity boost to break away from EarthÆs mighty grasp was as much of a shocker as he had hoped; six gravities is shocking, even to those used to it. When the shuttle rocket went into free fall a few minutes later, utter weightlessness was as distressing, confusingùand excitingùas he had hoped. It was so upsetting that he would have lost his lunch had he not been injected with anti-nausea drug.
Earth, seen from space, looked as it had looked in color-stereo pictures, but he found that the real thing is as vastly more satisfying as a hamburger.is better than a picture of one. In the outer satellite station, someone pointed out to him the famous Captain Nordhoff, just back from Pluto. Charlie recognized those stern, lined
features, familiar from TV and news pictures, and realized with odd surprise that the hero was a man, like everyone else. He decided to be a spaceman and famous explorer himself.
S. S. Hesperus was a disappointment. It ôblastedö away from the outer station with a gentle shove, onetenth gravity, instead of the soul-satisfying, bonegrinding, ear-shattering blast with which the shuttle had left Earth. Also, despite its enormous size, it was terribly crowded. After the Captain had his ship in orbit to intercept Venus five months later, he- placed spin on his ship to give his passengers artificial weightùwhich took from Charlie the pleasant neW feeling of weightlessness which he had come to enjoy.
He was bored silly in five daysùand there were five months of it ahead. He shared a cramped room with his father and mother and slept in a hammock swung ônightlyö (the ship used Greenwich time) between their bunks. Hammock in place, there was no room in the cubicle; even with it stowed, only one person could dress at a time. The only recreation space was the messrooms and they were always crowded. There was one view port in his part of the ship. At first it was popular, but after a few days even the kids didnÆt bother, for the view was always the same: stars, and more stars.
By order of the Captain, passengers could sign up Tor a ôsightseeing tour.ö CharlieÆs chance came when they were two weeks outùa climb through accessible parts of the ship, a quick look into the power room, a longer look at the hydroponics gardens which provided fresh air and part of their food, and a ten-second glimpse through the door of the Holy of Holies, the control room, all accompΓnied by a lecture from a bored junior officer. It was over in two hours and Charlie was again limited to his own, very crowded part of the ship.
Up forward there were privileged passengers, who had staterooms as roomy as those of the officers and who
enjoyed the luxury of the officersÆ lounge~ Charlie did not find out that they were aboard for almost a month, but when he did, he was righteously indignant.
His father set him straight. ôThey paid for it.ö
ôHuh? But we paid, too. Why should they getùö
ôThey paid for luxury. Those first-class passengers each paid~ about three times what your ticket cost, or mine. We got the emigrant rateùtransportation and food and a place to sleep.ö -
ôI donÆt think itÆs fair.ö
Mr. Vaughn shrugged. ôWhy should we have something we havenÆt paid forÆ~ö
ôUh, . . . well, Dad, why should they be able to pay for luxuries we canÆt afford?ö
ôA good question. Philosophers ever since Aristotle have struggled with that one. Maybe youÆll tell me, someday.ö
ôHuh? What do you mean, Dad?ö
ôDonÆt say æHuh.Æ Chuck, IÆm taking you to a brandnew planet. If you try, you can probably get rich. Then maybe you can tell me why a man with money can command luxuries that poor people canÆt.ö
ôBut we arenÆt poor!ö
ôNo, we are not. But we arenÆt rich either. Maybe youÆve got the drive to get rich. One thing is sure: on Venus the opportunities are all around you. Never mindùhow about a game before dinner?ö
Charlie still resented being shut out of the nicest parts of the shipùhe had -never felt like a second-class anything (citizen, or passenger) before in his life; the feeling was not pleasant. He decided to get rich on Venus. He would make the biggest uranium strike in history; then he would ride first class between Venus and Earth whenever he felt like itùthat would teach those stuck-up snobs!
He then remembered he had already decided to be a famous spaceman. Well, he would do both. Someday he would own a
space line.. . and one of the ships would be his private yacht. But by the time the Hesperus reached the halfway point he no longer thought about it.
The emigrants saw little of the shipÆs crew, but Charlie got acquainted with Slim, the emigrantsÆ cook. Slim was called so for the reason that cooks usually are; he sampled his own wares all day long and was pear shaped.
Like all space ships, the Hesperus was undermanned except for astrogators and engineersùwhy hire a cookÆs helper when the space can be sold to a passenger? It was cheaper to pay high wages to a cook who could perform production-line miracles without a helper. And Slim could.
But he could use a helper. CharlieÆs merit badge in cooking plus a willingness to do as he was told made him SlimÆs favorite volunteer assistant. Charlie got from it something to do with his time, sandwiches and snacks whenever he wanted them, and lots of knowledgeable conversation. Slim had not been to college but his curiosity had never dried up; he had read everything worth reading in several shipÆs libraries and had kept his eyes open dirtside on every inhabited planet in the Solar System.
ôSlim, whatÆs it like on Venus?ö
ôMmm. . . pretty much like the books say. Rainy. Hot. Not too bad at Borealis, where youÆll land.ö
ôYesùbut whatÆs it like?ö
ôWhy not wait and see? Give that stew a stir. . . and switch on the shortwaver. Did you know that they used to figure that Venus couldnÆt be lived on?ö
ôHuh? No, I didnÆt.ö
ôstruth. Back in the days when we didnÆt have space flight, scientists were certain that Venus didnÆt have either oxygen nor water. They figured it was a desert, with sand storms and no air you could breathe. Proved it, all by scientific logic.ö
ôBut how could they make such a mistake? I mean, obviously, with clouds all over it andùö
ôThe clouds didnÆt show water vapor, not through a spectroscope they didnÆt. Showed lots of carbon dioxide, though, and by the science of the last century they figured they had proved that Venus couldnÆt support life.ö
ôFunny sort of science! I guess they were pretty ignorant in those days.ö
ôDonÆt go running down our~grandfathers. If it werenÆt for them, you and I would be squatting in a cave, scratching fleas. No, Bub, they were pretty sharp; they just didnÆt have all the facts. WeÆve got more facts, but that doesnÆt make us smarter. Put them biscuits over here. The way I see it, it just goes to show that the only way to tell whatÆs in a stew is to eat it. . . and even then you arenÆt always sure. Venus turned out to be a very nice place. For ducks. If there were any ducks there. Which there ainÆt.ö
ôDo you like Venus?ö
ôI like any place I donÆt have to stay in too long. Okay, letÆs feed the hungry mob.ö
The food in the Hesperus was as good as the living accommodations were bad. This was partly SlimÆs genius, but was also the fact that food in a space ship costs by its weight; what it had cost Earthside matters little compared with the expense of lifting it off Earth. The choicest steaks cost the spaceline owners little more than the same weight of riceùand any steaks left over could be sold at high prices to colQnists weary .for a taste of Earth food. So the emigrants ate as well as the first class passengers, even though not with fine service and fancy surroundings. When Slim was ready he opened a shutter in the galley partition and Charlie dealt out the wonderful viands like chow in a Scout camp to passengers queued up with plates. Charlie enjoyed this chore. It made him feel like a member of the crew, a spaceman himself.
Charlie almost managed not to worry about Nixie, having told himself that there was nothing to worry
about. They were a month past midpoint, with Venus only six weeks away before he discussed it with Slim. ôLook, Slim, you know a lot about such things. NixieÆll make it all right. . . wonÆt he?ö
ôHand me that paddle; Mmm. . . donÆt know as I ever ran across a dog in space before. Cats now. . . cats belong in space. TheyÆre clean and neat and help to keep down mice and rats.ö -
ôI donÆt like cats.ö
ôEver lived with a cat? No, I see you havenÆt. How can you have the gall not to like something you donÆt know anything about? Wait till youÆve lived with a cat, then tell me what you think. Until then. . . well, who told you were entitled to an opinion?ö
ôHuh? Why, everybody is entitled to his own opinion!ö
ôNonsense, Bub. Nobody is entitled to an opinion about something he is ignorant of. If the Captain told me how to bake a cake, I would politely suggest that he not stick his nose into my trade . . . contrariwise, I never tell him how to plot an orbit to Mars.ö
ôSlim, youÆre changing the subject. How about Nixie? HeÆs going to be all right . . . isnÆt he?ö
ôAs I was saying, I donÆt have opinions about things I donÆt know. Happens I donÆt know dogs. Never had one as a kid; I was raised in a big city. Since then IÆve been in
space. No dogs.ö
ôDarn it, Slim!ùyouÆre being evasive: You know about sleep-freeze. I know you do.ö
Slim sighed. ôKid, youÆre going to die someday and so am I. And so is your pup. ItÆs the one thing we canÆt avoid. Why, the shipÆs reactor could blow up and nOne of us would know what hit us till they started fitting us with haloes. So why fret about whether your dog comes out of sleep-freeze? Either he does and youÆve worried unnecessarily. . . or he doesnÆt and thereÆs nothing you can do about it.ö
ôSo you donÆt think he will?ö
ôI didnÆt say that. I said it was foolish to worry.ö
But Charlie did worry; the talk with Slim brought it to the top of his mind, worried him more and more as the day got closer. The last month seemed longer to him than the four dreary months that had preceded it. -
As for Nixie, time meant nothing to him. Suspended between life and death, he was not truly in the Hesperus at all; bu1~ somewhere el-se, outside of time. It was merely his shaggy little carcass that lay, stored like a ham, in the frozen hold of the ship.
Eventually the Captain slowed his ship, matched her with Venus and set her in a - parking orbit alongside VenusÆs single satellite station. After transshipment and maddening delay the Vaughns were taken down in the winged shuttle Cupid into the clouds of Venus and landed at the north pole colony, Borealis.
For Charlie there was a still more maddening delay: cargo (which included Nixie) was unloaded after passengers and took many days because the mighty Hesperus held so much more than the little Cupid. He could not even go over to the freight sheds to inquire about Nixie as immigrants were held at the reception center for quarantine. Each one had received many shots during the five-month trip to innoculate them against the hazards of Venus; now they found that they must wait not only on most careful physical examination and observation to make sure that they were not bringing Earth diseases in with them but also to receive more shots not available aboard ship. Charlie spent the days with sore arms and gnawing anxiety.
So far he had had one glimpse outdoorsùa permanently cloudy sky which never got dark and was never very bright. Borealis is at VenusÆs north pole and the axis of the planet is nearly erect; the unseen Sun circled the horizon, never rising nor setting by more than a few degrees. The colony lived in eternal twilight.
The lessened gravity, nine-tenths that of Earth, Charlie did not notice even though he knew he should. It had
been five months since he had felt Earth gravity and the Hesperus had maintained only one-third gravity in that outer part, where spin was most felt. Consequently Charlie felt heavier than seemed right, rather than lighterùhis feet had forgotten full weight.
Nor did he notice the heavy concentration (about 2%) of carbon dioxide in the air, on which VenusÆs mighty jungles depended. It had once been believed that so much carbon dioxide, breathed regularly, would kill a man, but long before space flight, around 1950, experiments had shown that even a higher concentration had no bad effects. Charlie simply didnÆt notice it.
All in all, he might have been waiting in a dreary, barracks-like building in some tropical port on Earth. He did not see much of his father, who was busy by telephone and by germproof conference cage, conferring with his new employers and arranging for quarters, nor did he see much of his mother; Mrs. Vaughn had found the long trip difficult and was spending most of her time lying down.
Nine days after their arrival Charlie was sitting in the recreation room of the reception center, disconsolately reading a book he had already read on Earth. His father came in. ôCome along.ö
ôHuh? WhatÆs up?ö
ôTheyÆre going to try to revive your dog. You want to be there, donÆt you? Or maybe youÆd rather not? I can go. . . and come back and tell you what happened.ö
Charlie gulped. ôI want to be there. LetÆs go.ö
The room was like the one back at White Sands where Nixie had been put to sleep, except that in place of the table there was a cage-like contraption with glass sides. A man was making adjustments on a complex apparatus which stood next to the glass box and was connected to it. He looked up. ôYes? WeÆre busy.ö
ôMy name is Vaughn and this is my son Charlie. HeÆs the owner of the dog.ö
The man frowned. ôDidnÆt you get my message? IÆm Doctor Zecker, by the way. YouÆre too soon; weÆre just bringing the dog up to temperature.ö
Mr. Vaughn said, ôWait here, Charlie,ö crossed the room and spoke in a low voice to Zecker.
Zecker shook his head. ôBetter wait outside.ö
Mr. Vaughn again spoke quietly; Dr~ Zecker answered, ôYou donÆt understand. I donÆt even have proper equipmentùIÆve had to adapt the force breather we use for hospital monkeys. It was never meant for a dog.ö
They argued in whispers for a few moments. They were interrupted by an amplified voice from outside the room ôReady with ninety-seven-X, DoctorùthatÆs the dog.ö
Zecker called back, ôBring it in!öùthen went on to Mr. Vaughn, ôAll rightùkeep him out of the way. Though I still say he would be better off outside.ö He turned, paid them no further attention.
Two men, came in, carrying a large tray. Something quiet and not very large was heaped on it, covered by dull blue cloth. Charlie whispered, ôIs that Nixie?ö
ôI think so,ö his father-answered in a low voice. ôKeep quiet and watch.ö
ôCanÆt I see him?ö
ôStay where you are and donÆt say a wordùelse the doctOr will make you leave.ö
Once inside, the team moved quickly and without speaking, as if this were something rehearsed again and again, something that must be done with great speed and perfect precision. One of them Opened the glass box; the other placed the tray inside, uncovered its burden. It was Nixie, limp and apparently dead. Charlie caught his breath.
One assistant moved the little body forward, fitted a collar around its neck, closed down a partition like a guillotine, jerked his hands out of the way as the other assistant slammed the glass door through which they had put the dog in, quickly sealed it. Now Nixie was shut tight in a -glass coffin, his head lying outside the end partition, his body inside. ôCycle!ö
Even as he said it, the first assistant slapped a switch and fixed his eyes on the instrument board and Doctor Zecker thrust both arms into long rubber gloves passing through the glass, which allowed his hands to be inside with NixieÆs body. With rapid, sure motions he picked up a hypodermic needle, already waiting inside, shoved it deep jnto the dogÆs side.
ôForce breathing established.öÆ
ôNo heart action, Doctor!ö
The reports came one on top of the other, Zecker looked up at the dials, looked back at the dog and cursed. He grabbed another needle. This one he entered gently, depressed the plunger most carefully, with his eyes on the dials. ôFibrillation.ö
ôI can see!ö he answered snappishly, put down the hypo and began to massage the dog in time with the ebb and surge of the ôiron lung.ö
And Nixie lifted his head and cried.
It was more than an hour before Dr. Zecker let Charlie take the dog away. During most of this time the cage was open and Nixie was breathing on his own, but with the apparatus still in place, ready to start again if his heart or lungs should falter in their newly relearned trick of keeping him alive. But during this waiting time Charlie was allowed- to stand beside him, touch him, sooth and pet him to keep him quiet.
At last the doctor picked up Nixie and put him in CharlieÆs arms. ôOkay, take him. But keep him quiet; I donÆt want him running around for the next ten hours. But not too quiet, donÆt let him sleep.ö
ôWhy not, Doctor?ö asked Mr. Vaughn.
ôBecause sometimes, when you think theyÆve made it, they just lie down and quitùas if they had had a taste of
death and fOund they liked it. This pooch has had aÆ near squeakùwe have only seven minutes to restore blood supply to the brain. Any longer than that. . . well, the brain is permanently damaged and you might as well put it out of its misery.ö
ôYou think you made it in time?ö
ôDo you think,ö Zecker answered angrily, ôthat I would let you take the dog if I hadnÆt?ö
ôSorry.ö
ôJust keep him quiet, but not too quiet. Keep him awake.ö
Charlie answered solemnly, ôI will, Doctor NixieÆs going to be all rightùI know he is.ö
Charlie stayed awake all night long, talking to Nixie, petting him, keeping him quiet but not -asleep. Neither one of his parents tried to get him to go to bed.
II
Nixie liked Venus. It was filled with a thousand new smells, all worth investigating, countless new sounds, each of which had to be catalogued. As official guardian of the Vaughn family and of Charlie in particular, it was his duty and pleasure to examine each new phenomenon, decide whether or not it was safe for his people; he set about it happily. -
It is doubtful that he realized that he had traveled other than -that first lap in- the traveling case to White Sands. He took up his new routine without noticing the five months clipped out of his life; he took charge of the apartment assigned to the Vaughn family, inspected it
- thoroughly, then nightly checked it to be sure that all was in order and safe before he tromped out his place on the foot of CharlieÆs bed and tucked his tail over his nose.
He was aware that this was a new place, but he was not homesick. The other home had been satisfactory and he had never dreamed of leaving it, but this new home was still better. Not only did it have Charlieùwithout whom
no place could be homeùnot only did it have wonderfu] odors, but also he found the people more agreeable. Iii the past, many humans had been quite stuffy aboul flower beds and such trivia, but here he was almost nevei scolded or chased away; on the contrary people were anxious to speak to him, pet him, feed him. His popular. ity was based on arithmetic: Borealis had fifty-five thou. sand people but only eleven dogs; many colonists were homesick for manÆs traditional best friend. Nixie did nol know this, but he had great capacity for enjoying the good things in life without worrying about why.
Mr. Vaughn found Venus satisfactory. His work foi Synthetics of Venus, Ltd. was the sort of work he had done on Earth, save that he was now paid more and given more responsibility. The living quarters provided by the company were as comfortable as the house he had left back on Earth and he was unworried about the future of his family for the first time in years.
Mrs. Vaughn found Venus bearable but she was homesick much of the time.
Charlie, once he was over first the worry and then the delight of waking Nixie, found Venus interesting, less strange than he had expected, and from time to time he was homesick. But before long he was no longer homesick; Venus was home. He knew now what he wanted to be: a pioneer. When he was grown he would head south, deep into the unmapped jungle, carve out a plantation.
The jungle was the greatest single fact about Venus. The colony lived on the bountiful produce of the jungle. The land on which Borealis sat, buildings and spaceport, had been torn away from the hungry jungle only by flaming it dead, stabilizing the muck with gel-forming chemicals, and poisoning the land thus claimedùthen flaming, cutting, or poisoning any hardy survivor that pushed its green nose up through the captured soil.
The Vaughn family lived in a large apartment building which sat on land newly captured. Facing their front door, a mere hundred feet away across scorched and
poisoned soil, a great shaggy dark-green wall loomed higher than the buffer space between. But the mindless jungle never gave up. The vines, attracted by lightùtheir lives were spent competing for light energyùfelt their way into the open space, tred to fill it. They grew with incredible speed. One day after breakfast Mr. Vaughn tried to go out his own front door, found his way hampered. While they had slept a vine had grown across the hundred-foot belt, supporting itself by tendrils. against the dead soil, and had started up the front of the building. -
The police patrol of the city were armed with flame guns and spent most of their time cutting back such hardy intruders. While they had power to enforce the law, they rarely made an arrest. Borealis was a city almost free of crime; the humans were too busy fighting nature in the raw to require much attention from policemen.
But the jungle was friend as well as enemy. Its lusty life offered food for millions and billions of humans in place of the few thousands already on Venus. Under the jungle lay beds of peat, still farther down were thick coal seams representing millions of years of lush jungle growth, and pools of oil waiting to be tapped. Aerial survey by jet-copter in the volcanic regions promised uranium and thorium when man could cut his way through and get at
it. The planet offered unlimited wealth. But it did not offer it to sissies.
Charlie quickly bumped his nose into one respect in which Venus was not for sissies. His father placed him in school, he was assigned to a grade taught by Mr. deSoto. The school room was not attractiveùögrimö was the word Charlie used, but he was not surprised, as most buildings in Borealis were unattractive, being constructed either of spongy logs or of lignin panels made from jungle growth.
But the school itself was ôgrim.ö Charlie had been humiliated by being placed one grade lower than he had expected; now he found that the lessons were stiff and that Mr. deSoto did not have the talent, or perhaps the wish to make them fun. Resentfully, Charlie loafed.
After three weeks Mr. deSoto kept him in after school. ôCharlie, whatÆs wrong?ö -
ôHuh? I mean, æSir?ö
ôYou know what I mean. YouÆve been in my class nearly a month. You havenÆt learned anything. DonÆt you want to?ö
ôWhat? Why, sure I do.ö
ôSurelyÆ in that usage, not æsure.Æ Very well, so you want tO learn; why havenÆt you?ö
Charlie stood silent. He wanted to tell Mr. deSoto what a swell place Horace Mann Junior High School had been, with its teams and its band and its student plays and its student council (this crazy school didnÆt even have a student council!), and its study projects picked by the kids themselves, and the Spring Outburst and Sneak Day. . . andùoh, shucks!
But Mr. deSoto was speaking. ôWhere did you last go to school, Charlie?ö
Charlie stared. DidnÆt the teacher even bother to read his transcript? But he told him and added, ôI was a year farther along there. I guess IÆm bored, having to repeat.ö
ôI think you are, too, but I donÆt agree that you are repeating. They had an eighteen-year Jaw there, didnÆt they?ö -
ôSir?ö
ôYou were required to attend school until you were eighteen Earth-years old?ö
ôOh, that! Sure. I mean æsurely.Æ Everybody goes to school until heÆs eighteen. ThatÆs to ædiscourage juvenile delinquency,ö he quoted.
ôI wonder. Nobody ever flunked, I suppose.ö
ôSir?ö
ôFailed. Nobody ever got tossed out of school or left back for failing his studies?ö -
ôOf course not, Mr. deSoto. You have to keep age groups together, or they donÆt develop socially as they should.ö
ôWho told you that?ö
ôWhy, everybody knows that. IÆve been hearing that ever since I was in kindergarten. ThatÆs what education is forùsocial development.ö
Mr. deSoto leaned back, rubbed his nose. Presently he said slowly; ôCharlie, this isnÆt that kind of a school at all.ö
Charlie waited. He was annoyed at not being invited to sit down and was wondering what would happen if he sat down anyway.
ôIn the first place we donÆt have the eighteen-year rule. You can quit school today. You know how to read. Your handwriting is sloppy but it will do. You are quick in arithmetic. You canÆt spell worth a hoot, but thatÆs your misfortune; the city fathers donÆt care whether you learn to spell or not. YouÆve got all the education the City of Borealis feels obliged to give you. If you want to take a flame gun and start carving out your chunk of the jungle, nobody is standing in your way. I can write a note to the Board of Education, telling them that Charles Vaughn, Jr. has gone as far as he ever will. You neednÆt come back tomorrow.ö
Charlie gulped. He had never heard of anyone being dropped from school for anything less than a knife fight. It was unthinkableùwhat would his folks say?
ôOn the other hand,ö Mr. deSoto went on, ôVenus needs educated citizens. WeÆll keep anybody as long as they keep learning. The city will even send you back to Earth for advanced training if you are worth it, because we need scientists and engineers. . . and more teachers. But this is a struggling new community and it doesnÆt have a penny to waste on kids who wonÆt study. We do flunk them in this school. If you donÆt study, weÆll lop you off so fast youÆll think youÆve been trimmed with a flame gun. WeÆre not running the sort of overgrown kindergarten you were in. ItÆs up to you. Buckle down and learn. . . or get out. So go home and talk it over with your folks.ö
Charlie was stunned. ôUh.. . Mr. deSoto? Are you going to talk to my father?ö
ôWhat? Heavens, no! You are their responsibility, not mine. I donÆt care what you do. ThatÆs all. Go home.ö
Charlie went home, slowly. He did not talk it over with his parents. Instead he went back to school and studied. In a few weeks he discovered that even algebra could be interesting.. . and that old Frozen Face was an interesting teacher when Charlie had studied hard enough to know what the man was talking about.
Mr. deSoto never mentioned the matter again.
Getting back in the Scouts was more fun but even Scouting held surprises. Mr. QuÆan, Scoutmaster of Troop Four, welcomed him heartily. ôGlad to have-you, Chuck. It makes me feel good when a Scout among the new citizens comes forward and says be wants to pick up the Scouting trail again.ö He looked over the letter Charlie had brought with him. ôA good recordùStar Scout at your age. Keep at it and youÆll be a Double Star.. . both Earth and Venus.ö
ôYou mean,ö Charlie said slowly, ôthat IÆm not a Star Scout here?ö
ôEh? Not at all.ö Mr. QuÆan touched the badge on CharlieÆs jacket. ôYou won that fairly and a Court of Honor has certified you. YouÆll always be a Star Scout, just as a pilot is entitled to wear his comet after heÆs too old to herd a space ship. But letÆs be practical. Ever been out in the jungle?ö
ôNot yet, sir. But I always was good at woodcraft~ö
ôMmm. . . Ever camped in the Florida Everglades?ö
ôWell . . . no~ sir.ö
ôNo matter. I simply wanted to point out that while the Everglades are jungle, they are an open desert compared with the jungle here. And the coral snakes and water moccasins in the Everglades are harmless little pets alongside some of the things here. Have you seen our dragonflies yet?ö
ôWell, a dead one, at school.ö
ôThatÆs the best way to see them. When you see a live one, better see it first, . . . if itÆs a female and ready to lay eggs.ö
ôUh, I know about them. If you fight them off, they wonÆt sting.ö
ôWhich is why you had better see them first.ö
ôMr. QuÆan? Are they really that big?ö
ôI've seen thirty-six-inch wing spreads. What IÆm trying to say, Chuck, is that a lot of men have died learning the tricks of this jungle. If you are as smart as a Star Scout is supposed to be, you wonÆt assume that you know what these poor fellows didnÆt. YouÆll wear that badge. . . but youÆll class yourself in your mind as a tenderfoot ,all over again, and you wonÆt be in a hurry about promoting yourself.ö
Charlie swallowed it. ôYes, sir. IÆll try.ö
ôGood. We use the buddy systemùyou take care of your buddy and he takes care of you. IÆll team you with Hans Kuppenheimer. Hans is only a Second Class Scout, but donÆt let that fool you. He was born here and he lives in the bush, on his fatherÆs plantation. HeÆs the best jungle rat in the troop.ö
Charlie said nothing, but resolved to become a real jungle rat himself, fast. Being under the wing of a Scout who was merely second class did not appeal to him.
But Hans turned out to be easy to get along with. He was quiet, shorter but stockier than Charlie, neither unfriendly nor chummy; he simply accepted the assignment to look after Charlie. But he startled Charlie by answering, when asked, that he was twenty-three years old.
It left Charlie speechless long enough for him to realize that Hans, born here, meant Venus years, each only two
hundred twenty-five Earth days. Charlie decided thai Hans was about his own age, which seemed reasonable. Time had been a subject which had confused Charlie ever since his arrival. The Venus day was only seven minutes different from that of Earthùhe had merely had to have his wristwatch adjusted. But the day itself had not meant what it used to mean, because day and night at the north pole of Venus looked alike, a soft twilight.
There were only eight months in the year, exactly four weeks in each month, and an occasional odd æ~.Year Dayö to even things off. Worse still, the time of year didnÆt mean anything; there were no seasons, just one endless hot, damp summer. It was always the same time of-day, always the same time of year; only clock and calendar kept it from being the land that time forgot. Charlie never quite got used to it.
If Nixie found the timelessness of Venus strange he never mentioned it. On Earth he had slept at night simply because Charlie did so, and, as for seasons, he had never cared much for winter anyhow. He enjoyed getting back into the Scouts even more than Charlie had, because he was welcome at every meeting. Some of the Scouts born on Earth had once had dogs; now none of them hadùand Nixie was at once mascot of the troop. He was petted almost to exhaustion the first time Charlie brought him to a meeting, until Mr. QuÆan pointed out that the dog had to have some peace. . . then squatted down and petted Nixie himself. ôNixie,ö he said musingly, ôa nixie is a water sprite, isnÆt it?ö -
ôUh, I believe it does mean that,ö Charlie admitted, ôbut that isnÆt -how he got his name.ö
ôSo?ö
ôWell, I was going to name him æChamp,Æ but when he was a puppy I had to say æNixÆ to so many things he did that he got to thinking it was his nameùand then it was.ö
ôMmm.. . more logical than most names. And even the classical meaning is appropriate in a wet place like this. WhatÆs this on his collar? I see.. . youÆve decorated him with your old tenderfoot badge.ö
ôNo, sir,ö Charlie corrected. ôThatÆs his badge.ö
ôEh?ö
ôNixie is a Scout, too. The fellows in my troop back Earthside voted him into the troop. They gave him that. So Nixie is a Scout.ö
Mr. QuÆan raised his eyebrows and smiled. One of the boys said, ôThatÆs about the craziest yet. A dog canÆt be a Scout.ö
Charlie had doubts himself; nevertheless he was about to answer indignantly when the Scoutmaster cut smoothly in front of him. ôWhat leads you to say that, Al!?ö
ôHuh? Well, gosh! ItÆs not according to Scout regulations.ö
ôIt isn~t? I admit it is a new idea, but I canÆt recall what rule it breaks. Who brought a Handbook tonight?ö The Scribe supplied one; Mr. QuÆan passed it over to Alf Rheinhardt. ôDig in, AIf. Find the rule.ö
Charlie diffidently produced NixieÆs letter of transfer. He had brought it, but had not given it to the Scribe. Mr. QuÆan read it, nodded and said, ôLooks okay.ö He passed the letter along to others and said, ôWell, Al!?ö
ôIn the first place, it says here that you have to be twelve years old to joinùEarth years, that is, æcause thatÆs where the Handbook was printed. Is that dog that old? I doubt it.ö
Mr. QuÆan shook his head. ôIf I were sitting on a Court of Honor, IÆd rule that the regulation did not apply. A dog grows up faster than a boy.ö
ôWell, if you insist on jokingùand Scouting is no joke to meùthatÆs the point: a dog canÆt be a Scout, because heÆs a dog.ö
ôScouting is no joke to me either, Alfùthough I donÆt see any reason not to have fun as we go. But I wasnÆt joking. A candidate comes along with a letter of transfer,
all regular and proper. Seems to me you should gc mighty slow before you refuse to respect an official act o~ another troop. All youÆve said is that Nixie is a dog. Well, didnÆt I see somewhereùlast monthÆs BoysÆ L4fe~ I thinkùthat the Boy Scouts of Mars had asked one of the Martian chiefs to serve on their planetary Grand Council?ö
ôBut thatÆs not the same thing!ö
ôNothing ever is. But if a Martianùwho is certainly not a human beingùcan hold the highest office in Scouting, I canÆt see how Nixie is disqualified simply because heÆs a dog. Seems to me youÆll have to show that he canÆt or wonÆt do the things that a Tenderfoot Scout should do.ö
ôUh. . .ô Alf grinned knowingly. ôLetÆs hear him explain the Scout Oath.ö
Mr. QuÆan turned to Charlie. ôCan Nixie speak English?ö
ôWhat? Why, no, sirùbut he understands it pretty well.ö
The Scoutmaster turned back to Aif. ôThen the æhandicappedÆ rule applies, - Alfùwe never insist that a Scout do something he canÆt do. If you were crippled or blind, we would change the rules to fit you. Nixie canÆt talk words. . . so if you want to quiz him about the Scout Oath, youÆll have to bark. ThatÆs fair, isnÆt it, boys?ö
The shouts of approval didnÆt sit well with Alf. He answered sullenly, ôWell, at least he has to follow the Scout Lawùevery Scout has to do that.ö
ôYes,ö agreed the Scoutmaster soberly. ôThe Scout Law is the essence of Scouting. If you donÆt obey it, you arenÆt a Scout, no matter how many merit badges you wear. Well, Charlie? Shall we examine Nixie in Scout Law?ö
Charlie bit his lip. He was sorry that he hadnÆt taken that badge off NixieÆs collar. It was mighty nice that the fellows back home had voted Nixie into the troop...
but with this smart Aleck trying to make something of itùWhy did there always have to be one in every troop who tried to take the fun Out of life?
He answered reluctantly, ôAll right.ö
ôGive me the Handbook. Is Nixie trustworthy?ö
ôSure he is!ö
ôHow?ö
ôWell. . . he doesnÆt get on furniture even if youÆre not watching him. . . and he wonÆt touch food unless heÆs told to, and uh. . .ô
ôI think thatÆs enough. Is he loyal?ö
ôHeÆs loyal to me.ö
ôMmm. . . good enough. Helpful?ö
ôUh, there isnÆt a whole lot he can do, I guess. He used to fetch newspapers inùbut he canÆt do that here. HeÆll fetch anything you ask him to, if he understands what it is.,,
ôFriendlyÆùwell, obviously. æCourteousÆùweÆll pass him on that, seeing what he has put up with tonight. Kind?ö - -
ôHeÆll let a baby try to pull his tail off, or step on his face, and never snap or growl. Uh, he did used to be kind of rough on cats, but I taught him better.ö
ôObedient?ö
ôWant to see?ö Charlie put him through hand signal orders, ending with standing at attention and saluting. The applause made Nixie tremble but he held it until Charlie signalled ôAt ease.ö
ôTake note of that, Alf,ö Mr. QuÆan said drily, ônext time I have to speak to you twice. æCheerfulÆùwe can skip that; IÆm sure his grin isnÆt faked. æThriftyÆùwell, we can hardly expect him to have a savings account.ö
ôHe buries bones.ö
ôMmm, I suppose thatÆs the canine equivalent. Brave?ö
ôI think he is. IÆve seen him tackle a dog three times his sizeùand chase it out of our yard, too, back homeù back Earthside.ö
ôClean?ö
ôSmell him. He had a bath just yesterday. And heÆs perfectly housebroken.ö
ôAll that is left is æReverentÆùand I donÆt intend to tr to discuss that with him. I rule that Nixie is at least a reverent as the rapscallions IÆve heard cussing aroun4 here when they didnÆt think I was listening. How abou it, boys? Does he pass?ö
Nixie was voted into Troop Four in his tenderfoo status unanimously. . . Alfred Rheinhardt, Tenderfool abstaining.
After the meeting the troop treasurer buttOnhole Charlie. ôYou want to pay your dues now, Chuck?ö
ôHuh? Oh, yeah, sureùI brought some money.ö
ôGood.ö The other Scout accepted payment. ôHereÆ~ your receipt.ö
ôJust mark it down in your book.ö -
ôTake it. No tickee, no washee. IÆm nasty about itùthatÆs why they made me treasurer. Now about NixiùYou pay? Or do I speak to him?ö
The other boy was not smiling and Charlie could noi decide whether or not he was joking. He decided to pla) it just as soberly. ôI settle for Nixie. You see, he doesnÆt have pockets.ö He dug down in his diminishing resources, managed to piece out enough to pay the small amount for Nixie. ôHere.ö
ôThanks.ö The treasurer handed back a shilling. ôTenderfeet get by cheaper, under Troop by-laws. But every little bit helps. You know, when I took this job, the troop was in the hole. Now we got money in the bank.ö
ôI believe it!ö Charlie agreed. He was secretly delighted at the transaction. Nixie was no longer an honorary Scout,ö he was a Scoutùhe kept the Law and his dues were paid.
NixieÆs eligibility to take part in all troop doings wa~ fbi questioned until the first hike thereafter. Mr. QuÆar looked troubled when Charlie showed up with him. ôYou had better take Nixie home. WeÆll wait for you.ö
Charlie was upset. ôBut, Mr. QuÆan, I thoughtùWell, Nixie always goes on hikes.ö
ôNo doubt, back Earthside. Charlie, IÆm not being
arbitrary. I donÆt want your dog to get hurt.ö
ôHe wonÆt get hurt!- HeÆs real smart.ö
The Scoutmaster frowned. Hans Kuppenheimer spoke up. ôI think Nixie could come along, Mr. QuÆan.ö
ôEh?ö - The Scoutmaster looked at Hans thoughtfully.
ôYouÆll have your hands full with Chuck, since itÆs his first time out.ö
Hans had a habit of saying nothing when he had nothing to say;- he did so now. Mr. QuÆan persisted, ôYouÆd have to look out for them both, you know.ö
Hans still kept quiet. ôWell,ö Mr. QuÆan said doubtfully, ôNixie is a member of the troop. If you can take care of himùand Charlie, tooùIÆll let him come.ö
ôYes, sir.ö
The- Scoutmaster turned away. Charlie whispered, ôThanks, Hans. That was swell.ö Hans said nothing.
Hans had surprised Charlie by his first reaction to Nixie the night Nixie had been taken into the troop. While other boys were clustering around making much of Nixie, Hans had stayed a wary distance away. Charlie had felt offended. Since he was assigned with Hans as a buddy team, Charlie decided to do something about it.
After the meeting he sought out Hans. ôDonÆt be in a hurry, Hans. I want you to get acquainted with Nixie.ö
The country boy still avoided the dog. ôDoes it bite?ö
ôHuh? Nixie? Of course not. Well, he would if you took a poke at me. -Not otherwise.ö
ôI thought so. And suppose I gave you a friendly slap on- the back. He could kill a man, huh?ö
Nixie had listened, tense and watchful. He could feel the fear in HansÆ mind; he understood, without understanding why, that his boy was arguing with this other boy. Charlie did not seem in immediate danger, but Nixie stayed at yellow alert.
It showed. The savage carnivores who were NixieÆs remote ancestors showed in his stance and his watchful eyes. The Venus-born jungle rat, drilled since babyhoo~ to keep his eyes open for just such unknown dangers could see the carnivoreùand failed to see the gentle household pet. He watched the dog carefully.
Charlie said, ôWhy, thatÆs nonsense, Hans. Pat him Rough him up a bit. Shake hands with him. Let hin learn your smell.ö When Hans still did not move Charlie asked incredulously, ôDonÆt you like dogs?ö
ôI donÆt know. IÆve never seen one before, up close.ö CharlieÆs jaw dropped. But Hans had spoken thc
simple truth. Some town boys in the troop, immigrant~ like Charlie, had once owned dogs Earthside. Others had friends among the handful of dogs in Borealis. But Hans alone, born on Venus and living outside town, knew so little of dogs that they were as strange to him as a tiger shark would have been.
When Charlie finally got this incredible fact firmjyin his mind he persisted even more strongly inJiis-~fibrt to get his team buddy acquainted witJi-his~ther partner. Before Hans went home that nght he had touched the dog, patted him, even picked hith up and held him. Nixie could feel the fear go away, to be replaced by a sudden warm feeling. So Nixie snuffled Hans and licked his chin.
Hans showed up the next day at CharlieÆs home. He wanted to see Nixie.
In the two weeks that followed before the hike, Nixie adopted Hans as another member of CharlieÆs family. Subject always to his first loyalty, he accepted the other boy, took orders from him, even worked to hand signals, which he had never done with anyone but Charlie. At first he did it to please Charlie, but in time he was doing so because it was right and proper in his doggy mind, as long as it was all right with Charlie.
The troop set out on the hike. Before they reacbed~ the jungle at the edge of town Hans said to Charlie, ôBetter have him heel.ö
ôWhy? He likes to run around and poke his nose into things. But he always stays in earshot. HeÆll come if heÆs called.ö
Hans scowled. ôSuppose he canÆt? Maybe he goes into bush and doesnÆt come out. You want to lose him?ö
This was a long speech for Hans. Charlie looked surprised, then called, ôNixie! Heel!ö
The dog had been supervising the van; he turned and came at once to CharlieÆs left and rear. Hans relaxed, said, ôBetter,ö and placed himself so that the dog trotted between them.
When the jungle loomed up over them, pierced here by a road, Mr. QuÆan held up his arm and called out, ôHalt! Check watches.ö He held up his wrist and waited; everybody else did the same.
Jock Quentin, an Explorer Scout equipped with twoway radio, spoke into his microphone, then said, ôStand by. . . oh nine eleven.ö
ôAnybody fail to check?ö continued Mr. QuÆan. ôAll you with polarizers, establish base line.ö
Hans took out an odd-looking pair of spectacles with double lenses which rotated and a sighting device which snapped out. ôTry it.ö
ôOkay.ö Charlie accepted them gingerly. He did not yet own a light-polarizing sighter. ôWhy are we going to establish base line if weÆre going to stay on marked roads?ö
Hans did not answer and Charlie felt foolish, realizing that the time to lea~rn how not to get lost was before you got lost. He put on the polarizers and tried to establish base line.
ôBase lineö was the prime meridian of Venus, the direction from Borealis of the Sun at noon. To find that direction it was necessary first to find the Sun itself (in a grey, thickly overcast sky), then, using a watch, figure where the Sun would be at noon.
That direction would be southùbut all directions from Borealis were south; the city lay on the north pole of the planet. The mapmakers used Borealis as a zero point and the direction of the Sun at noon as a base line With the aid of transceivers, radar beacons, and radi compass, they were gradually establishing a grid o reference points for the few hundred square mile around Borealis. A similar project was going on at Souti Pole City. But the millions of square miles between pole were unknown country, more mysterious and incredibl3 vaster than any jungle on Earth. There- was a sayin~ among the Scouts that streams at the equator were ôhol enough to boil eggs,ö but nobody knew. As yet, no ship had landed near the equator and managed to come back.
The difficulty of telling directions on Venus is very great. The stars are always invisible. Neither magnetic compasses nor gyro compasses were of any use at the poles. Nor is there moss on the north sides of trees, nor any shadows to readùVenus is not only the land that time forgot; it is also the place of no directions.
So the colonists were forced to establish new directions. From Borealis toward the Sun at noon was prime meridian, called ôbase line,ö and any direction parallel to that was ôbase.ö- Back the other way was ôreverseö; the two intermediate directions were ôLeft demiö and ôright demi.ö By counting clockwise from ôbase,ö any other direction could be named.
It was not a perfect system since it used square coordinates for a spherical surface. But it was better than nothing in a place where the old directions had turned slipperyùwhere all directions away from the city were ôsouthö and where east and west, instead of being straight lines, were circular.
At first, Charlie could not see why, if they were going to use four directions, they didnÆt call them ônorth,ö ôsouth,ö ôeastö and ôwest,ö instead of ringing in these silly names, ôbase,ö ôreverse,ö ôright demi,ö and ôleft demi.ö It was not until he saw in school a map of the colony, with the old familiar directions, north, south, east, west, on it and a ôbase lineö grid drawn on top of it that he realized that the problem was not that simple. To
go east on that map you went counterclockwise on one of those little circlesùbut how could you tell what direction ôeastö was unless you knew where you were? And how could you tell how much to curve left in order to keep going east? When compasses were no good and the Sun might be in any direction, north, south, east, or west, depending on which side of the city you were on?
So he buckled down and learned the new system.
Charlie put on HansÆ polarizing spectacles and looked around. He could see nothing. Light leaked around the guards of the spectacles and the glass in front of his eyes seemed opaque. He knew that he should be able to pick out the Sun, for he knew that the light from the sky, dispersed by the clouds of Venus, was polarized, made to wiggle up-and-down or sideways, instead of in all directions. He knew that these spectacles were supposed to blank out polarized light, let him see the Sun itself. But he could not see anything.
He turned slowly, blind behind the spectacles.
Hey, it was getting brighter! He swung his head back and forth, made sure he was not mistaken. ôI got it!ö
ôFalse sun,ö Hans announced dispassionately.
ôHuh?ö
ôYouÆre a hundred and eighty degrees out of phase,ö Mr. QuÆanÆs voice announced. ôYouÆre looking at the reflection of the Sun. Never mind, other people have made that mistake. But itÆs not a mistake you can afford to make even once out in the bush.. . so keep tryingòö
Charlie kept on turningùdarn it, these specs fit so tight that he couldnÆt even see his feet! There it was again! Was it false sun? Or the Sun itself? How far had he turned?
He turned until he was dizzy, seeing brightness, then darkness, several timesùand realized that one brightness was brighter than that which it alternated. Finally he stopped. ôIÆm looking at the Sun,ö he announced firmly.
ôOkay,ö Hans admitted. ôJigger with it. Fine it down.ö
Charlie found that he could fiddle with screw settings on the sides of the spectacles and thereby kill the brightness almost completely. He did so, while swinging his head back and forth like a radar, trying to spot the smallest gleam that he could. ôThatÆs the best I can do.ö
ôHold still,ö Hans ordered. ôUncover your right eye. Mark me.ö
Charlie did as ordered, found himself staring with one eye down the sighter in front of the spectacles. Hans was thirty feet away, holding his Scout staff upright. ôDonÆt move!ö Hans cautioned. ôCoach me on.ö
ôUh. . . come right a couple of feet.ö
ôHere?ö
ôI think so. Let me check.ö He covered his right eye again, but found that his eye, dazzled by brighter light, could no longer pick up- the faint gleam he had marked. ôThatÆs the best I can do.ö
Hans stretched a string along the marked direction. ôMy turn. Note your time.ö He took the spectacles, quickly gave Charlie a direction, coached him into place. The twO lines differed by about ten degrees.
ôFigure your hour angle,ö Hans said and looked at his watch.
The time was nine-thirty .. and the Sun moved fifteen degrees each hour. . . two and a half hours to noon; thatÆs thirty-seven and a half degrees and each minute on the face of his watch was six degrees, soù Charlie was getting confused. He looked up, saw that Hans had placed his watch on the ground and was laying out base line. HansÆ watch had a twenty-four hour face; he simply pointed the hour hand at the Sun and the XII spot then pointed along base line.
No mental arithmetic, no monkeying aroundù ôGosh, I wish I had a watch like that!ö
ôDonÆt need it,ö Hans answered without looking up.
ôBut it makes it so simple. You justùö
ôYour watch is okay. Make yourself a twenty-fourhour dial out of cardboard.ö -
ôThat would work? Yeah, it would! I wish I had one now.,Æ
Hans fumbled in his duffel bag. ôUh, I made you one.ö He handed it over without looking upùa cardboard clock face, laid out for twenty-four hours.
Charlie was almost speechless. ôGee! Nixie, look at that! Say, flans, I donÆt know how to thank you.ö
~*Don~t want you and Nixie getting lost,ö Hans answered gruffly.
Charlie took it, aimed nine-thirty along his line, marked - noon and restretched the string to match. Base line, according to his sighting, differed by ten degrees from that of Hans. In the meantime, two patrol leaders had stretched a line at right angles to base line, along where the troop was spread out. One of them moved down the line, checking angles with a protractor. Mr. QuÆan followed, checked CharlieÆs layout himself. ôAbout nine degrees off,ö he told Charlie. ôNot bad for a first try.ö
Charlie felt crestfallen. He knew that he and Hans could not both be right but he had had a small hope that his answer was nearer the correct one. ôUh. . . which way am I wrong?ö -
ôLeft-demi. Look at HansÆùheÆs dead on . . . as usual.ö The Scoutmaster raised his voice. ôAll right, gang! Bush formation, route march. Flamers out, right and left. Rusty on point, Bill on dragùshake it up!ö
ôHeel, Nixie.ö
The road cut straight through the jungle. The clearing had been flamed back wider than the road so that the jungle did not arch over it. The column kept -to the middle where the ground was packed by vehicles running to and from outlying plantations. The flamers on the flanks, both of them Explorer Scouts, walked close to the walls of green and occasionally used their flame guns
to cut back some new encroachment of vine or tree or grass. Each time they did so, they kept moving and a scavenger gang moved out, tossed the debris back into the living forest, and quickly rejoined the column. It was everybodyÆs business to keep the roads open; the colony depended on roads more than Ancient Rome had depended on theirs.
Presently it began to rain. No one paid attention; rain was as normal as ice in Greenland. Rain was welcome; it washed off ever-present sweat and gave an illusion of
coolness. -
Presently Point (Rusty Dunlop) stopped, sighted back at Drag, and shouted, ôRight demi fifteen degrees!ö
Drag answered, ôCheck!ö Point continued around the slight bend in the road. They had left Borealis heading ôsouthö of course, since no other direction was possible, but that particular south was base thirty-two degrees right demi, to which was now added fifteen degrees
clockwise.
It was PointÆs duty to set trail, keep lookout ahead, and announce his estimate of every change in direction. It was DragÆs business to have eyes in the back of his head (since even here the jungle was - not without power to strike), keep count of his paces, and keep written record of all course changes and the number of paces between eachùdead reckoning navigation marked down in a waterproof notebook strapped to his wrist. He was picked for his reliability and the evenness of his strides.
A dozen other boys were doing the same things, imitating both Point and Drag, and recording everything, paces, times, and course changes, in preparation for Pathfinder merit badges. Each time the troop stopped, each would again establish base direction and record it. Later, after the hike, they would attempt to map where they-had been, using only their notes.
It was just practice, since the road was surveyed and mapped, but practice that could determine later whether they lived, or died miserably in the jungle. Mr. QuÆan
had no intention of taking the troop, including tenderfoot town boys not yet twenty Venus years old, into unexplored jungle. But older boys, seasoned explorer Scouts did go into trackless bush; some were already marking out land they would claim and try to conquer. On their ability to proceed by dead reckoning through bush and swamp and return to where they had started depended both their lives and their future livelihoods.
Mr. QuÆan dropped back, fell in beside Charlie. ôCounting paces?ö
ôYes, sir.ö
ôWhereÆs your notebook?ö
ôUh, it was getting soggy in the rain, so I put it away. IÆm keeping track in my head.ö
ôThatÆs a fine way to wind up at South Pole. Next time, bring a waterproof one.ö
Charlie didnÆt answer. He had wanted one, as he had wanted a polarizing sighter and many other things. But the Vaughn family was still scratching for a toehold; luxuries had to wait.
Mr. QuÆan looked at Charlie. ôIf convenient, that is,ö he went on gently. ôRight now I donÆt want you to count paces anyhow.ö
ôSir?ö
ôYou canÆt learn everything at once, and today you canÆt get lost. I want you to soak up junglecraft. Hans. you two move to the flank. Give Charlie a chance to see what weÆre passing through. Lecture him about it.
and for goodnessÆ sake try to say more than two words at a time!ö
ôYes, sir.ö
ôAndùö The Scoutmaster got no further; he was hailed by the boss of the scavenger gang. ôMr. QuÆan! SquintÆs got a screwbug!ö
The man said something bitter under his breath, started to run. The two boys followed. The scavengers had been moving a large branch, freshly flamed down. Now they were clustered around one boy, who wa~
gripping his forearm. Mr. QuÆ an burst into the group, grabbed the kid by that arm without saying a word, and examined it.
- He shifted his grip so that the skin was drawn tight at one spot, reached for his belt and drew a knifeù-dug the point into skin, and, as if he were cutting a bad spot out of an apple, excised a small chunk of flesh. Squint screwed up his face and tears came into his eyes, but he did not cry out.
The scavenger boss had his first-aid kit open. As the Scoutmaster handed his knife to a boy near him, the gang boss placed a shaker bottle in Mr. QuÆariÆs hand. The Scoutmaster squirted powder into the wound, accepted a pressure patch and plastered it over the cut.
Then he turned sternly to the gang boss. ôPete, why didnÆt you do it?ö
- ôSquint wanted you.ö
ôSo? Squint, you know better. Next time, let the boy closest to you get itùor cut it out yourself. It could have gone in another half inch while I was getting to you. And next time be more careful where you put your hands!ö
The column had halted.- Point. looking back, saw Mr. QuÆanÆs wave, lifted his own arm and brought it down smartly. They moved on. Charlie said to Hans, ôWhatÆs a screwbug?ö
ôBurrow in. Abscess. DonÆt get æem out, maybe lose an arm.ö
ôOh.ö Charlie added, ôCould they get on Nixie?ö
ôDoubt it. æCept maybe his nose. Ought to check him over every chance we get. Other things, too.ö
They were on higher and drier ground now; the bush around them did not go up so high. was not quite as dense. Charlie peered into it, trying to sort out details, while Hans kept up what he probably felt was a lively discourseùusually one word at a time, such as: ôPoison,ö ôPhysic,ö or ôEat those.ö
ôEat what?ö Charlie asked, when Hans had made the last comment. He looked where Hans pointed, saw nothing looking like fruit, berries or nuts.
ôThat stuff. Sugar stick.ö Hans thrust cautiously into the brush with his staff, pushed aside a Venus nettle, and broke off a foot of brown twig. ôNixie! Get out of there! Heel!ö
-Charlie accepted half of it, bit cautiously when he saw Hans do so.
It chewed easily. Yes, it did have a sweetish taste, about like corn syrup. Not bad!
Hans spat out pulp. ôDonÆt swallow the cudùgive you trouble.ö
ôI wouldnÆtÆve guessed you could eat this.ö
ôNever go hungry in the bush.ö
ôHans? What do you do for water? If you havenÆt got any?ö
ôHuh? Water all around you.ö
ôYeah, but good water.ö
All water is good water ... . if you clean it.ö HansÆ eyes darted around. ôFind a filter ball. Chop off top and bottom. Run water through. IÆll spot one, show you.ö
Hans found one shortly, a gross and poisonouslooking fungus. But it was some distance off the clearing and when Hans started after it, he was told gruffly by the flamer on that flank to get back from the edge and stay there. Hans shrugged. ôLater.ö
The procession stopped in the road clearing, lunched from duffel bags. Nixie was allowed to run free, with strict instructions to stay away from the trees. Nixie didnÆt mind. He sampled every lunch. After a rest they went on. Occasionally they all gaye way to let some plantation- family, mounted on high trucks with great, low-pressure bolster wheels, roll past on the way to a Saturday night in town. The main road led past narrow tunnels cut into the bush, side roads to plantations. Late in the afternoon they passed one such; Hans hooked a thumb at it. ôHome.ö
ôYours?ö
ôHalf a mile in.ö
A couple of miles farther the troop left the road and started across country. But this was high land, fairly dry and semi-open, no more difficult than most forest back Earthside. Hans merely saw to it that Nixie stayed close at heel and cautioned Charlie, ôMind where you step... and if anything drops on you, brush it off quick.ö
They broke out shortly into a clearing, made camp, and started supper. The clearing was man-made, having been flamed down, although a green carpet had formed underfoot. The first step in making camp was to establish four corners of a rectangle, using Scout staffs; then Jock Quentin, the troopÆs radioman, clamped mirrors to them. After much fiddling he had a system rigged by which a powerful flashlight beam bounced around the rectangle and back into a long tube which housed a photocell; the camp was now surrounded by an invisible fence. Whenever the beam was broken an alarm would sound. - -
While this was going on other Scouts were lashing staffs together, three to a unit, into long poles. Rags were sopped with a sickly-sweet fluid, fastened to the ends and the poles were erected, one at each corner of the rectangle. Charlie sniffed and made a face, ôWhatÆs that stuffÆ?ö
ôFor dragonflies. They hate it.ö
ôI donÆt blame æem!ö-
ôHavenÆt seen one lately. But if they were swarming, youÆd rub it on your hide and be glad of the stink.ö
ôHans? Is it true that a dragonfly sting can paralyze a man?ö
"No."
ôHuh? But they sayùö
ôTakes three or four stings. One sting will just do for an arm or a legùunless it gets you in the spine.ö
ôOh.ö Charlie couldnÆt see much improvement.
ôI was stung once,ö Hans added.
ôYou were? But youÆre still alive.ö
ôMy paw fought it off and killed it. CouldnÆt use my left leg for a while.ö
ôBoy! You must be lucky.ö
ôUnlucky, IÆd say. But not unlucky as it was. We ate it.ö
ôYou ate it?ö
ôSure. Mighty tasty, they are.ö
Charlie felt queasy. ôYou eat insects?.ö
Hans thought about it. ôYou ever eat a lobster?ö
ôSure. But thatÆs different.ö
ôIt sure is. Seen pictures of lobsters. Disgusting.ö
This gourmetsÆ discussion was broken up by the Scoutmaster. ôHans! How about scaring up some oil weed?ö
ôOkay.ö Hans headed far the bush. Charlie followed and Nixie trotted after. Hans stopped. ôMake him stay. behind. We canÆt gather weed and watch him, too.ö
ôAll right.ö
Nixie protested, since it was his duty to guard Charlie. But once he understood that Charlie meant it and would not be swayed, he trotted back, tail in air, and supervised campmaking.
The boys went on. Charlie asked, ôThis clearing. . . is it the regular Scout camp?ö
Hans looked surprised. ôI guess so. Paw and I arenÆt going to set a crop till we flame it a few more times.ö
ôYou mean itÆs yours? Why didnÆt you say so?ö
ôYou never asked.ö Presently he added, ôSome planters, they donÆt like Scouts tromping around, maybe hurting a crop.ö
Oil weed was a low plant, resembling bracken. They gathered it in silence, except once when Hans brushed something off CharlieÆs arm. ôWant to watch that.ö
While they were loading with weed Hans made quite a long speech: ôThese dragonflies, they arenÆt much. You hear them coming. You can fight æem off, even with your hands, because they canÆt sting till they light. They wonÆt sting anyway, except when theyÆre swarmingùthen itÆs just females, ready to lay eggs.ö He added thoughtfully, ôTheyÆre stupid, they donÆt know the eggs wonÆt hatch in a man.ö
ôThey wonÆt?ö
ôNo. Not that it does the man much good; he dies anyway. But they think theyÆre stinging a big amphibian, thing called kteela.ö
ôIÆve seen pictures of kteela.ö
ôSo? Wait till you see one. But donÆt let it scare you. Kteela canÆt hurt you and theyÆre more scared than you areùthey just look fearsome.ö He brushed at his arm. ôItÆs little things you got to watch.ö
Oil weed burned with a clear steady flame; the boys had a hot dinner and hot tea. No precautions were taken against fire; of the many hazards on Venus, fire was not one. The problem was to get anything to burn, not to avoid forest lire. - -
After they had eaten, one boy was examined by Mr. QuÆan in first-aid and artificial respiration. Listening, Charlie found that there was much that he must 1-earn and unlearn; conditions were different. Then Rusty Dunlop broke out a mouth organ and they sang.
Finally Mr. QuÆan yawned and said, ôSack in, Scouts. Hard day tomorrow. Pedro, first watchùthen rotate down the list.ö
Charlie thought he would never get to sleep. The ground underneath his waterproof was not hard, but he was not used to sleeping with lighted sky- in his eyes. Besides that, he was acutely aware of strange noises in the bush around them.
He was awakened by a shout. ôDragons! Heads up, gang! Watch yourselfÆ!ö
Without stopping to think, Charlie reached down, grabbed Nixie to his chest, then looked around. Several boys were pointing. Charlie looked and thought at first that he was seeing a helicopter.
Suddenly it came intO perspective and he realized that it was an enormous insect. . . unbelievably huge, larger than had been seen on Earth since the Carboniferous period, a quarter of a billion years ago.
It was coming toward camp. Something about itùits wings?ùmade a whining buzz. -
It approached the tall poles with the smelly rags, hesitated, turned away. Mr. QuÆan looked thoughtfully after it, glanced at Hans.
ôTheyÆre not swarming,ö Hans stated positively. ôAnyhow, that was a male.ö
ôMmm .... No doubt youÆre right. Stillùdouble guard the rest of the night, down the roster. Tenderfeet makee-learnee only.ö He lay down.
The troop started back the next morningùöMorningö by clock; Charlie, awakening stiff and sleepy to the same dull-bright, changeless sky, felt as if he had napped too long but not well during an afternoon. They headed back the way they had come. Once on the cleared road, Hans left Charlie and looked up the Scoutmaster. He was back shortly, grinning. ôStay over night with me? You and Nixie?ö
ôGee! Is it okay? Your folks wonÆt mind?ö
ôThey like company. You can ride in with Paw in the morning.ö
ôIt æould be swell, Hans. . . but how about my folks? Uh, do you suppose Jock could raise æem on the portable?ö
ôEverythingÆs okay. Mr. QuÆan will phone æem when the troop gets in. . . and you can call them soon as we get to my place. If they holler, I can still catch you up with the troop.ö
So it was settled. When they got to the little side road for the Kuppenheimer plantation Mr. QuÆan ordered them to head for the house and no monkey business. They solemnly agreed and left the troop.
The side road was a dark tunnel; Hans hurried them through it. A few hundred yards farther on they came out into cultivated fields and Hans slowed down. ôThatÆs the only bad stretch. You okay?ö
ôSure.ö
ôLetÆs check Nixie.ö
If anything had attached itself to Nixie, they could not find ir and his wagging tail gave no sign of distress; they went on. Charlie looked around with interest. ôWhat are you cropping?ö
ôJungle bread on the right. Once itÆs. established you donÆt. have to worry about it, smothers anything else,
mostly. Other side is mutated -bananas. They take more care.ö
Shortly they came to the house, on a rise and with no growth around itùa typical Venus settlerÆs house, long and low and built nf spongy logs and native bamboo. HansÆ mother greeted Charlie as if he were a neighbor boy, seen daily, and she petted Nixie. ôHe minds me of a hund I had in Hamburg.ö Then she set out banana cake and mugs of coffee that were mostly milk. Nixie had his cake on the floor.
There were several kids around, younger than Hans and looking like him. Charlie did not get them straight, as they talked even less than Hans did and hung back from Nixieùunlike their mother, they found him utterly strange. But presently, seeing how the. monster behaved with Hans and with their mother, they timidly patted him. After that, Nixie was the center of attention while they continued shyly to ignore Charlie.
Hans bolted his cake, hurried out. He was back a few minutes later. ôMaw, whereÆs the flamer?ö
ôPaw is using it.ö
Hans looked blank. ôWell.. . we donÆt have to have it. Come on, Chuck.ö He carried two hefty machetes, a blade in each hand; he handed one to Charlie.
ôOkay.ö Charlie stood up. ôThanks, Mrs. Kuppenheimerùthanks a lot.ö
ôCall me æMaw.ö
ôHurry up, Charlie."
ôRight. Sayùhow about that call to my folks?ö
ôI forgot! Maw, would you phone Mrs. Vaughn? Tell her Chuck is staying all night?ö
ôYes, surely. WhatÆs your frequency, Charlie?ö
ôUb, you have to call city exchange and ask them to relay.ö
ôJawohl. You boys run along.ö
They headed off through the fields. Nixie was allowed to run, which be did with glee, returning every thirty seconds or so to see that his charges had not fainted nor been kidnapped in his absence.
ôWhere are we going, Hans?ö
HansÆ eyes brightened. ôTo see the prettiest plantation land on Venus!ö
ôItÆs mighty pretty, no doubt about it.ö
-ôNot PawÆs land. I mean my plantation.ö
ôYours?ö
ôWill be mine. Paw posted an option bond. When IÆm old enough, IÆll prove it.ö He hurried on.
Shortly Charlie realized that he was lost even though they were in a cultivated grove. ôHold it, Hans! Can I borrow your polarizer?ö
ôWhat for?ö
ôI want to establish base, thatÆs what. IÆm all mixed up.Æ,
ôBase is that direction,ö Hans answered, pointing with his machete. ôMy polarizer is at the house. We donÆt need it.ö
ôI just thought I ought to keep straight.ö
ôLook, Chuck, I canÆt get lost around here; I was born on this piece.ö
ôBut I wasnÆt.ö
ôKeep your eyes open; youÆll learn the landmarks. WeÆre heading that wayùö Hans pointed again. ôùfor that big tree.ö Charlie looked, saw several big trees. ôWe cut over a ridge. Pretty soon we come to my land. Okay?ö
ôI guess so.ö
ôI wonÆt let you get lost. Look, IÆll show you the bush way to establish baseùpolarizers are for townies.ö He looked around, his quick eyes picking up and discard,ing details. ôThereÆs one.ö -
ôOne what?ö
ôCompass bug. Right there. DonÆt scare him. Back, Nixie!ö
Charlie looked, discovered a small, beetle-like creature with striped wing casings. Hans went on, ôWhen they fly, they take right off toward the Sun. Every time, -Then they level off and head homeùthey live in nests.ö Hans slapped the ground beside the little creature; it took 0ff as if jet propelled. ôSo the Sun is that way. What time is it?ö
ôTen thirty, about.ö
ôSo where is base?ö
Charlie thought about it. ôMust be about there.ö
ôIsnÆt that the way I pointed? Now find another compass bug. Always one around, if you look.ö
Charlie found oneùfrightened it, watched it take off in the same direction as the first. ôYou. know, Hans,ö he said slowly, ôbees do something like thatùfly by polarized light, I mean. ThatÆs the way they get back to their hives o~ cloudy days. I read about it.ö
ôBees? Those Earth bugs that make sugar?ö
ôYes. But they arenÆt bugs.ö
ôOkay,ö Hans answered indifferently. ôIÆll never see one. LetÆs get moving.ö
Presently they left cultivation, started into bush. Hans required Nixie to heel. Even though they were going uphill, the bush got thicker, became dense jungle. Hans led the way, occasionally chopping an obstacle.
He stopped. ôTrash!ö he said bitterly.
ôTrouble?ö
ôThis is why I wanted the flamer. This bit grows pretty solid.ö
ôCanÆt we chop it?ö
ôTake all day with a bush knife; need heat on it. Going to have to poison this whole stretch æfore I get a road through from PawÆs place to mine.ö
ôWhat do we do?ö
ôGo around, what else?ö He headed left. Charlie could not see that Hans was following any track, decided he
must know his way by the contour of the ground. About half an hour later Hans paused and whispered, ôKeep quiet. Make Nixie keep quiet.ö -
ôWhat for?ö Charlie whispered back.
ôGood chance youÆll see kteela, if we donÆt scare them.ö He went noiselessly ahead, with the other boy and the dog on his heels. He stopped. ôThere.ö
Charlie oozed forward, looked over HansÆ shoulderù found that he was looking down at a stream. He heard a splash on his right, turned his head just in time to see spreading ripples. ôDid you see him?ö asked Hans in a normal voice.
ôShucks, he was right there. A big one. Their houses are just downstream. They often fish along here. Have to keep your eyes open, Chuck.ö Hans looked thoughtful. ôKteela are people.ö
ôHuh?ö
ôTheyÆre people. Paw thinks so. If we could just get acquainted with them, we could prove it. But theyÆre timid. Come onùwe cross here.ö Hans d~scended the bank, sat down on muddy sand by running water and started taking his shoes off. ôMind where you sit.ö
Charlie did the same. Bare-footed and bare-legged, Hans picked up Nixie. ôIÆll lead. This stretch is shallow
ùkeep moving and donÆt stumble.ö
The water was warm and the bottom felt mucky; Charlie was glad when they reached the far side. ôGet the leeches off,ö Hans commanded as he put Nixie down. Charlie looked down at his legs, was amazed to find half a dozen purple blobs, large as hensÆ eggs, clinging to him. Hans cleaned his own legs, helped Charlie make sure that he was free of the parasites. ôRun your fingers between your toes. Try to get the sand fleas off as you put on your boots, tooùthough they donÆt really matter.ö
ôAnything else in that water?ö Charlie asked, much subdued.
ôOh, glass fish can bite a chunk out - of you. . . but they arenÆt poisonous. Kteela keep this stream cleaned up. LetÆs go.ö
They went up the far side, reached a stretch that was higher and fairly dry. Charlie thought that they were probably-going upstream, he could not be sure.
Hans stopped suddenly. ôDragonfly. Hear it?ö
Charlie listened, heard the high, motor-like hum he had heard the night before. ôThere it is,ö Hans said quickly. ôHang onto Nixie and be ready to beat it off. IÆm going to attract its attention.ö
Charlie felt that attracting its attention was in a class with teasing a rattlesnake, but it was too late to object; Hans was waving his arms.
The fly hesitated, veered, headed straight for him. Charlie felt a moment of dreadful anticipationùthen saw Hans take one swipe with his machete. The humming stopped; the thing flOttered to the ground.
Hans was grinning. The dragonfly jerked in reflex, but it was dead, the head neatly chopped off. ôDidnÆt waste a bit,ö Hans said proudly.
ôHuh?ö
ôThatÆs lunch. Cut some of that oil weed behind you.ö Hans squatted down. In three quick slices he cut off the stinger and the wings; what was left was the size of a medium lobster. Using the chrome-sharp machete as delicately as a surgeonÆs knife, he split the underside of the exoskeleton, gently and neatly stripped out the gut. He started to throw it away, then paused and stared at it thoughtfully. -
Charlie had been watching in queasy fascination. ôTrouble?ö
ôEgg sac is full. TheyÆre going to-swarm.ö
ôThatÆs bad, isnÆt it?ö
ôSome. They swarm every three, four years.ö HansÆ hesitated. ôWeÆd better skip seeing my land. Got to tell Paw, so theyÆll keep the kids in.ö
ôOkay, letÆs get started.ö
ôWeÆll eat lunch first. Ten minutes wonÆt matterùthey arenÆt really swarming yet, or this one wouldnÆt have been alone.ö -
Charlie started to say that he wasnÆt interested in lunchùnot this lunchùbut Hans was already starting a fire. -
What was left in the exoskeleton was clean milkywhite meat, lean flying muscle. Hans cut out chunks, toasted them over the fire, salted them from a pocket shaker. ôHave some.ö
ôUh, IÆm not hungry.ö
ôYouÆre crazy in the head, too. Here, Nixie.ö Nixie had been waiting politely but with his nose quivering. He snapped the tidbit out of the air, gulped it down, waited still more eagerly while Hans ate the next piece.
It did smell good. . . and it looked good, when he kept his mind off the source. CharlieÆs mouth began to water. Hans looked up. ôChange your mind?ö
ôUh. . . let me tastc just a bite.ö
It reminded Charlie of crab meat. A few minutes later the exoskeleton was stripped too clean to interest even Nixie. Charlie stood up, burped gently, and said, ôReady?ö
ôYeah. Uh, Chuck, one thing I do want to show you. . . and thereÆs a way back above it maybe quicker than the way we came.ö
ôWhat is it?ö
ôYouÆll see.ö Hans headed off in a new direction. Charlie wondered how Hans had picked it without the aid of a compass bug.
In a- few minutes they were going downhill. Hans stopped. ôHear it?ö
Charlie listened, seemed to pick out a soft roar under the ever-present multiple voice of the jungle. ôItÆs not a dragonfly?ö
ôOf course not. YouÆve got ears.ö
ôWhat is it?ö Hans did not reply, led on. Presently they broke into a clearing, or rather a room, for the
jungle closed in overhead. It enclosed a delightful, surprising waterfall; the muted roar was its song.
ôIsnÆt that swell?ö -
ôIt sure is,ö Charlie agreed. ôI havenÆt seen anything so pretty in years.ö
ôSure, itÆs pretty. But thatÆs not the point. My land is just above. IÆll put a water wheel here and have my own power.ö Hans led his two friends down near it, began to talk excitedly about his plans. The noise of falling water was so great that he had to shout.
So neither one of them heard it. Charlie heard Nixie bark, turned his head and saw it at the last moment. ôHans! Dragon!ö
Too lateùthe thing nailed Hans between his shoulder blades. It laid no eggs; Charlie killed it, crushed it with his hands. But Hans had already been stung.
Charlie wiped his trembling hands. on his pants and looked down at his chum. Hans had collapsed even as Charlie had killed the thing; he lay crumpled on the ground. Charlie bent over him. ôHans! Hans, answer me!ö
HansÆ -eyelids fluttered. ôGet Paw.ö
ôHans. . . can you stand up?ö
ôSorry. . . Cbucköùthen very feebly, ôMy fault.ö His eyes stayed open, but Charlie could get no more out of him. -
Even in his distress CharlieÆs training stayed with him. He could not find HansÆ pulse, so he listened for his heart.. . was rewarded and greatly relieved by a steady, strong flub-a-dub!.. . flub-a-dub! Hans looked ghastlyù but apparently it was true that they just paralyzed; they didnÆt kill.
But what to do?
Hans had said to get his father. Sureùbut how? Could he find his way to the house? Even if he could, could he lead them back here? No, he wouldnÆt have toùsurely Mr. Kuppenheimer would know where the waterfall was that Hans meant to harness. So what he had to do was simply get back. Now letÆs see; they had come down the bank thereùand after they had crossed the streamùit must be this same stream; they hadnÆt gone over any watershed. Or had they?
Well, it had better be the same stream, else he was lost beyond hope. Back through the bush, then and across the streamù How was he going to-cut back in and hit the stream at the place where it could be forded? The bush all looked pretty much alike.
Maybe he had better go downstream along the bank until he hit it. Then cross, and if he could find a compass bug, he could strike off in the general direction of the Kuppenheimers until he came to civilization. He remembered which way base was when they had first started out; that would orient him.
Or would it? They had gone first to that place that couldnÆt be passed without a flamerùbut where had they gone then? How many turns? Which way were they heading when they reached the place where he had not quite seen a kteela?
Well, he would just have to try. At least he could get onto the same side of the stream as the plantation.
Nixie had been sniffing at HansÆ still body. Now he began to whine steadily. ôShut up, you!ö Charlie snapped. ôI donÆt want any trouble out of you, too.ö
Nixie shut up.
Charlie decided that he couldnÆt leave Hans; he would have to take him with him. He kneeled down and started wrestling HansÆ limp body into a firemanÆs carry, while wondering miserably whether or not Hans had told his mother where they were going? Or if it would do any good if he had, since they were not where Hans had originally intended to take them.
ôHeel, Nixie.ö
An indefinitely long time later Charlie put Hans down on the ground in a fairly open place. It had taken only a
few minutes of struggle to convince him that he could not carry Hans along the bank of the stream. A man might have been able to carve his way through with a macheteùbut while Charlie had two machetes he could not swing them and carry Hans as well. After giving that route up, he abandoned one machete by the waterfall, thinking that Hans could find it there some other day. He was tempted to abandon both, for the one on his belt was heavy and got in his way, but he decided that he might have to have it; they had done plenty of chopping in getting here.
So he set out again, this time trying to retrace their steps through the bush, hoping to spot the places they had chopped to help him find his way.
He never- spotted such- a sign; the living green maze swallowed all such puny marks.
After a long time he decided to go back to the familiar waterfallùhe would stay there, nurse Hans, filter water for them all, and wait. Surely Mr. Kuppenheimer would eventually think of the waterfall!
So he turned back.. . and could not find the waterfall. Not even the stream.
He walked through something. He couldnÆt see- it, there were branches in his face. Whatever it was it clung to his legs like red-hot wires; he stumbled and almost dropped Hans getting free of it. Then his leg did not stop paining him. The fiery burning dropped off a little but a numbness crept up his right leg.
He was glad indeed to put Hans on the ground at the first fairly open place he came to. He sat down and rubbed his leg, then checked Hansùstill breathing, heart still beating. . . but out like a light.
Nixie sniffed Hans again, then looked up and whined inquiringly. ôI canÆt help it,ö Charlie said to him. ôHeÆs a mess. IÆm a mess. YouÆre a mess, too.ö
Nixie barked.
ôI will, I will.. . just as soon as I can move. DonÆt hurry me. How would you like to carry him for a while?ö
Charlie continued to rub his leg. The pain was going away but the numbness was worse. At last he said to Nixie, ôI guess we ought to try it, pal. Wait a second while I look for a compass bugùthe way I f~gure it, we came mostly base, so I guess we ought to try to head reverse.ö He glanced at his wrist to see what time it was.
His watch had stopped.
But jt couldnÆt stopùit was self-winding.
Nevertheless it had. Perhaps he had banged it in the bush, perhaps. . . no matter, it had stopped. He looked. for HansÆ watch, thinking that its twenty-four-hour face was easier to use as a compass dial anyhow.
But Hans was not wearing his watch, nor was it in any of his pockets. Whether he had left it at the house, along with his polarizer and duffel bag, or whether it had dropped off while Charlie was carrying him, did not matter. They had no watch between them and Charlie did not know what time it was, not even approximately. It seemed to him that he had been carrying Hans, fighting this dreary bush, for a week.
So a compass bug couldnÆt tell him anything.
He almost felt defeated at that moment. But he rallied, telling himself that if he went downhill he was bound to find that stream. . . then he would either find the ford or the waterfall, one or the other. He hauled himself around into position to lift Hans, favoring his right leg.
He need not have bothered; his right leg was not working.
The ôpins and needlesö in it were almost unbearable, as if he had sat much too long in a cramped position. But they would not go away as they always had in the past; nothing he could do would make that leg obey his orders.
- He lowered his head against Hans and bawled.
He became aware that Nixie was licking his face and whining. He stopped his useless blubbering and raised his head. ôItÆs all right, fellow. DonÆt you worry.ö
But it wasnÆt all right. While Charlie was no jungle rat,
he did know that search parties could comb the area f weeks- and not - find them, could pass within feet of tl~ spot and never see them. Possibly no human being h~ ever been where they were now; possibly no hum~ would reach this spot in many years to come.
If he didnÆt use his head now, they would never get oi~ Nixie sat patiently, watching him, trusting him. ôNixie, this is up to you now, boy. You understar me?ö
Nixie whined. ôGo back to the house. Fetch! Fetch Maw. Fet anybody. Right now! Go back to the house.ö
Nixie barked.
ôDonÆt argue with me. YouÆve got to do it. Gohom Go back and fetch somebody!ö
Nixie looked -dubious, trotted a few steps in the direction in which they had come, stopped and booke around inquiringly. ôThatÆs right! Keep going! Go bac to the house! Fetch somebody! Go!ö
Nixie looked sharply at him, then trotted away in businesslike fashion.
Sometime later Charlie raised his head and shook i Gosh! he must have gone to sleep. . . couldnÆt do th~
What if another dragonfly came along.. . have I stay awake. Was Hans all right? Have to pick him up an get out of here. . . where was Nixie? ôNixie!ö
No answer. That was the last straw. But heÆd have I get moving anyhowù His leg wouldnÆt work. . . felt funny. ôNixie! Nixie!
Mrs. Kuppenheimer heard the scratching and whining at the door, wiped her hands on her apron and went to open it. When she saw what was there she threw her hands up. ôLieber Gott! What happened to you?ö She knelt swiftly, picked up the little dog and put him on her clean table, bent over him, talking to him and picking leeches from him, wiping away blood. ôSchrecklich!ö
ôWhat happened to him, Mama?ö
ôI donÆt know.ö She went on working. But Nixie jumped Out of her arms, charged straight for the closed door, tried to crash his way outùunsuccessful, he leaped and clawed at it and howled. -
Mrs. Kuppenheimer gathered him up and held his struggling body against her breast. ôGerta! Get Paw!ö
ôWhatÆs the matter with him, Mama?ö
ôSomething dreadful has happened. Run!ö
The Borealis council hall was filled with Scouts and older people. Hans and Charlie were seated in the front row, with Nixie on a chair between them. Hans had crutches across one knee; Charlie had a cane. Mr. QuÆan came down the aisle, saw them, and sat down as Charlie moved Nixie over to share his seat. The Scoutmaster said to Hans, ôI thought you were off those things?ö His glance touched the crutches.
ôI amùbut Maw made me bring them.ö
ôIùö Mr. QuÆan stopped. An older man had just taken his place at a table in the front of the hall at which were seated half a dozen others.
ôQuiet, please.ö The man waited a moment. ôThis Court of Honor is met in special session for awards. It is our first duty tonightùand proud pleasureùto award a life-saving medal. Will Tenderfoot Scout Nixie Vaughn please come forward?ö
ôNow, Nixie!ö Charlie whispered.
Nixie jumped off the chair, trotted forward, sat at attention and saluted, trembling.
