The air of Deadland, while sultry, could now be breathed for shortperiods of time, though a headache invariably followed such experiments. Theheat was still oppressive. The rock, once like an old Normform waving, hadlost its distinctive outline. The winds were no longer so severe.

On the fourth day, they found some animal tracks which seemed to belongto one of the larger predators. This cheered Sanza, but another, lateroccurrence produced only puzzlement.

One morning they went forth to walk in Deadland.

Less than a hundred paces from the installation, they came upon threeof the giant caterpillars, dead. They were stiff, as though dried out ratherthan frozen, and they were surrounded by rows of markings within the snow.The footprints which led to the scene and away from it were rough ofoutline, obscure.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I think we had better photograph this," said Jarry.

They did. When Jarry spoke to Station Eleven that afternoon, he learnedthat similar occurrences had occasionally been noted by attendants of otherinstallations. These were not too frequent, however.

"I don't understand," said Sanza.

"I don't want to," said Jarry.

It did not happen again during their tour of duty. Jarry entered itinto the log and wrote a report. Then they abandoned themselves tolovemaking, monitoring, and occasionally nights of drunkenness. Two hundredyears previously, a biochemist had devoted his tour of duty to experimentingwith compounds which would produce the same reactions in Catforms as thelegendary whiskey did in Normforms. He had been successful, had spent fourweeks on a colossal binge, neglected his duty and been relieved of it, wasthen retired to his coldbunk for the balance of the Wait. His basically