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standing inside the cave mouths, but they made no response to the light. They were either asleep, in more or less human fashion, or had succumbed to the usual night-torpor of Tenebra's animal life.
    No sign of anything above a stone-age culture level could be seen anywhere about, and after a few minutes of examination the robot cut off most of its lights and headed back toward the hill and the crater. It moved steadily and purposefully. Once at the hilltop, several openings appeared in its sides, and from some of these armlike structures were extended. Ten of the ellipsoids were picked carefully from one end of the line - leaving no betraying gaps - and stowed in the robot's hull. Then the machine went back down the hill and began a deliberate search for booby traps. From these it removed the stone blades, and such of these as seemed in good condition - many were badly corroded, and some even crumbled when handled - disappeared into other openings in the lump of plastic. Each of these holes was then covered by a lid of the same incredibly stable polymer which formed the body of the machine, so that no one could have told from outside that the storage places were there.
    With this task completed, the robot headed away, at the highest speed it could maintain. By the time Altair rose and began turning the lower atmosphere back into gas, the machine, the stolen weapons, and the "kidnapped" eggs were far from the crater and still farther from the cave village.

    I. EXPLORATION; EXPECTATION; ALTERCATION

    NICK pushed through the tall plants into the open, stopped, and used several words of the sort Fagin had always refused to translate. He was neither surprised nor bothered to find water ahead of him - it was still early in the morning - it was annoying, however, to find it on each side as well. Sheer bad luck, apparently, had led him straight out along a peninsula, and this was no time for anyone to retrace his steps.
    To be really precise, he didn't know that he was being followed, of course; but it simply hadn't occurred to him to doubt that he was. He had spent two days, since his escape, in making as confused and misleading a trail as possible, swinging far to the west before turning back toward home, and he was no more willing than a human being would have been to admit that it might have been wasted effort. True, he had seen not the slightest sign of pursuers. He had been delayed by the usual encounters with impassable ground and wild animals, and none of his captors had caught up; the floating animals and plants which it was never safe to ignore completely had shown no sign of interest in anything behind him; his captors during the time he was with them had shown themselves to be hunters and trackers of superlative skill. Taking all these facts into account, he might have been excused for supposing that the fact of his continued freedom meant they weren't following. He was tempted, but couldn't bring himself to believe it. They had wanted so badly to make him lead them to Fagin!
    He came to himself with a start, and brought his mind back to the present. Theorizing was useless just now; he must decide whether to retrace his steps along the peninsula, and risk running into his ex-captors, or wait until the lake dried up and chance their catching him. It was hard to decide which was the smaller risk, but there was one check he could make.
    He walked to the water's edge, looked at the liquid carefully, then slapped it vigorously. The slow ripples which spread up the edge of the lake and out over its more or less level surface did not interest him; the drops which detached themselves did. He watched as they drifted toward him, settling slowly, and noted with satisfaction that even the largest of them faded out without getting back to the surface. Evidently the lake did not have long to go; he settled down to wait.
    The breeze was picking up slowly as the plants awoke to the new day. He could smell it. He watched eagerly for its