"What? Says you."

"Says me. Now shut up and let me sleep. Better put out that light." Frank settled his head again on his knees.

Jim shut up but did not turn out the light. It comforted him. Besides, the inner leaves which had shown an annoying tendency to close in on the tops of their heads now had retreated and flattened themselves firmly against the dense wall formed by the outer layers of leaves. Under the mindless reflex which controlled the movements of the plant they were doing thenbest to present maximum surface to the rays from the flashlight.

Jim did not analyse the matter; his knowledge of photosynthesis and of heliotropism was sketchy. He was simply aware that the place seemed roomier in the light and that he was having less trouble with the clinging leaves. He settled the torch against Willis, who had not stirred, and tried to relax.

It actually seemed less stuffy with the light on. He had the impression that the pressure was up a little. He considered trying to take off his mask but decided against it. Presently, without knowing it, he drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed and then dreamt that he was dreaming. Hiding in the desert cabbage had been only a fantastic, impossible dream; school and Headmaster Howe had merely been nightmares; he was home, asleep in his bed, with Willis cuddled against him. Tomorrow Frank and he would start for Syrtis Minor to enter school.

It had simply been a nightmare, caused by the suggestion that Willis be taken away from him. They were planning to take Willis away from him! They couldn't do that; he wouldn't let them!

Again his dream shifted; again he defied Headmaster Howe; again he rescued Willis and fled-and again they were locked away in the heart of a desert plant.

He knew with bitter certainty that it would always end like this. This was the reality, to be trapped and smothering in the core of a hibernating giant weed-to die there.

He choked and muttered, tried to wake up, then slipped into a less intolerable dream.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pursued

TINY PHOBOS, INNER moon of Mars, came out of eclipse and, at breakneck speed, flew west to east into the face of the rising Sun. The leisurely spin of its ruddy primary, twenty-four and a half hours for each rotation, presently brought the rays of that Sun to east Strymon, then across the bank of desert between the twin canals and to the banks of west Strymon. The rays struck a great ball perched near the eastern bank of that canal, a desert cabbage closed against the cold.

The plant stirred and unfolded. The sunward half of the plant opened flat to the ground; the other half fanned itself open like a spread peacock's tail to catch the almost horizontal rays. In so doing it spilled something out of its heart and onto the flat portion-two human bodies, twisted and stiff, clad garishly in elastic suits and grotesque helmets.

A tiny ball spilled out with them, rolled a few yards over the thick green leaves, and stopped. It extended eye stalks and little bumps of legs and waddled back to the sprawled bodies. It nuzzled up against one.

It hesitated, nuzzled again, then settled back and let out a thin wailing in which was compounded inconsolable grief and an utter sense of loss.

Jim opened one bloodshot eye. "Cut out that infernal racket," he said crossly.

Willis shrieked, "Jim boy!" and jumped upon his stomach, where he continued to bounce up and down in an ecstasy of greeting.

Jim brushed him off, then gathered him up in one arm. "Calm down. Behave yourself. Ouch!"

"What's the matter, Jim boy?"

"My arm's stiff. Ooo-ouch!" Further efforts had shown Jim that his legs were stiff as well. Also his back. And his neck.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Frank.

"Stiff as board. I'd do better to skate on my hands today. Say-"

"Say what?"

"Maybe we don't skate. I wonder if the spring floods have started?"

"Huh? What are you gibbering about?" Frank sat up, slowly and carefully.

"Why, the spring floods, of course. Somehow we lasted through the winter, though I don't know how. Now we-"

"Don't be any sillier than you have to be. Look where the Sun is rising."

Jim looked. Martian colonials are more acutely aware of (he apparent movements of the Sun than any Earthbound men, except, possibly, the Eskimos. All he said was, "Oh..." then added, "I guess it was a dream."

"Either that or you are even nuttier than usual. Let's get going." Frank struggled to his feet with a groan.

"How do you feel?"

"Like my own grandfather."

"I mean, how's your throat?" Jim persisted.

"Oh, it's all right." Frank promptly contradicted himself by a fit of coughing. By great effort he controlled it shortly; coughing while wearing a respirator is a bad idea. Sneezing is worse.

"Want some breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry now," Frank answered. "Let's find a shelter first, so we can eat in comfort."

"Okay." Jim stuffed Willis back into the bag, discovered by experiment that he could stand and walk. Noticing the flashlight, he tucked it in with Willis and followed Frank toward the bank. The canal vegetation was beginning to show; even as they walked the footing grew more tangled. The green plants, still stiff with night cold, could not draw away quickly as they brushed through them.

They reached the bank. "The ramp must be about a hundred yards off to the right," Frank decided. "Yep-I see it. Come on."

Jim grabbed his arm and drew him back. " 'Smatter?" demanded Frank.

"Look on up the canal, north."

"Hub? Oh!" A scooter was proceeding toward them. Instead of the two hundred fifty miles per hour or more that such craft usually make, this one was throttled down to a minimum. Two men were seated on top of it, out in the open.

Frank drew back hastily. "Good boy, Jim," he approved. "I was just about to walk right into them. I guess we had better let them get well ahead."

"Willis good boy, too," Willis put in smugly.

"Let them get ahead, my foot!" Jim answered. "Can't you see what they're doing?"

"Huh?"

"They're/allowing our tracks!"

Frank looked startled but did not answer. He peered cautiously out. "Look out!" Jim snapped. "He's got binoculars." Frank ducked back. But he had seen enough; the scooter had stopped at approximately the spot where they had stopped the night before. One of the men on top was gesturing through the observation dome at the driver and pointing to the ramp.

Canal ice was, of course, never cleaned of skate marks; the surface was renewed from time to time by midday thaws until me dead freeze of winter set in. However, it was unlikely that anyone but the two boys had skated over this stretch of ice, so far from any settlement, any time in months. The ice held scooter tracks, to be sure, but, like all skaters, Jim and Frank had avoided them in favor of untouched ice.

Now their unmistakable spoor lay for any to read from Cynia station to the ramp near them.

"If we head back into the bushes," Jim whispered. "We can hide until they go away. They'll never find us in this stuff."

"Suppose they don't go away. Do you want to spend another night in the cabbage?"

"They're bound to go away eventually."

"Sure but not soon enough. They know we went up the ramp; they'll stay and they'll search, longer than we can hold out. They can afford to; they've got a base."

"Well, what do we do?"

"We head south along the bank, on foot, at least as far as the next ramp."

"Let's get going, then. They'll be up the ramp in no time."

With Frank in the lead they dog-trotted to the south. The plants along the bank were high enough now to permit them to go under; Frank held a course about thirty feet in from the bank. The gloom under the spreading leaves and the stems of the plants themselves protected them from any distant observation.