"Are you baiting me?" she finally asked.

I heard her laugh then, and turned, knowing it had been intentional.

"What, me?"

"I could push you off from here, very easily."

"I'd make it back."

"Would you push me off, then--some dark night, perhaps?"

"They're all dark, Miss Luharich. No, I'd rather make you a gift of mycarving."

She seated herself beside me then, and I couldn't help but notice thedimples in her knees. She wore white shorts and a halter and still had anoffworld tan to her which was awfully appealing. I almost felt a twinge ofguilt at having planned the whole scene, but my right hand still blocked herview of the wooden animal.

"Okay, I'll bite. What have you got for me?"

"Just a second. It's almost finished."

Solemnly, I passed her the little wooden jackass I had been carving. Ifelt a little sorry and slightly jackass-ish myself, but I had to followthrough. I always do. The mouth was split into a braying grin. The ears wereupright.

She didn't smile and she didn't frown. She just studied it.

"It's very good," she finally said, "like most things you do--andappropriate, perhaps."

"Give it to me." I extended a palm.

She handed it back and I tossed it out over the water. It missed thewhite water and bobbed for awhile like a pigmy seahorse.

"Why did you do that?"

"It was a poor joke. I'm sorry."

"Maybe you are right, though. Perhaps this time I've bitten off alittle too much."

I snorted.

"Then why not do something safer, like another race?"

She shook her end of the rainbow.

"No. It has to be an Ikky."

"Why?"

"Why did you want one so badly that you threw away a fortune?"

"Many reasons," I said. "An unfrocked analyst who held black therapysessions in his basement once told me, 'Mister Davits, you need to reinforce