Dutifully, Eric rearranged the bundle of armament that was his responsibility. He turned to his uncle again, now examining the knapsacks and canteens that would be carried on expedition. “Suppose there had been another woman. My father could have had two, three, even four litters by different women. Extra-large litters too. If we could prove something like that, I wouldn’t be a singleton any more. I wouldn’t be Eric the Only.”

The Trap-Smasher sighed and thought for a moment. Then he pulled the spear from his back sling and took Eric’s arm. He drew the youth along the burrow until they stood in the very center of it. He looked carefully at the exits at either end, making certain that they were completely alone before giving his reply in an unusually low, guarded voice.

“We’d never be able to prove anything like that. If you don’t want to be Eric the Only, if you want to be Eric the something else, well then, it’s up to you. You have to make a good Theft. That’s what you should be thinking about all the time now—your Theft. Eric, which category are you going to announce?”

He hadn’t thought about it very much. “The usual one I guess. The one that’s picked for most initiations. First, category.”

The older man brought his lips together, looking dissatisfied. “First category. Food. Well…”

Eric felt he understood. “You mean, for someone like me an Only, who’s really got to make a name for himself—I ought to announce like a real warrior? I should say I’m going to steal in the second category—Articles Useful to Mankind. Is that what my father would have done?”