"The pith is one of our staple vegetables," said father. "Those pods grow there because they are planted. Grafted, so to speak. The seedlings are raised in the ground soil, then grafted into vine fiber. The vines are used as a soil. The agriculture is here in the air, as well as on the ground. There are several vegetables grown in the vine soil." Men and women were working in the field he indicated. And insects were there. I could see them crawling up from beneath, carrying pods; men and women were picking the pods also--and a line of insects, dwarfed by distance to look like ants, were carrying the pods along a street. We presently descended from the platform and walked, with our insects again beside us, along the causeway streets toward the government house. The people crowded around us. Once, the press of them added to our own weight, caused the street and half a dozen of the neighboring houses to sag alarmingly. No one seemed to mind but ourselves; but when Zetta shouted to disperse them they went willingly enough--dropping down into the foliage, or leaping nimbly away with their uncanny movements. My self-satisfied sense of power was somewhat marred by the realization of how we must have appeared to them. Chained by our weight to a slow, dragging walk, fearful every moment that we might fall. As we went along, father explained the city activities. All normal enough for a primitive, peasant civilization. He told us, too, how most of the workers sold their products to the government, exchanging their credits by buying from the government other things they needed. One of our ancient Indian civilizations of earth had a somewhat similar system. And these super-modern people of Xenephrene had chosen it as best of all! Strange commentary! We saw the government storehouses. A huge building set in an excavation of the forest, with its foundations on the ground; we passed through to its top floor. Food of every sort was stored here; merchandise of every kind involved in this primitive life was here on display. "The manufactured stuff comes mostly from the Brauns," said father. It was obvious to me why these Garlands did not want to champion the earth against Graff and his Brauns. Here on Xenephrene--however much the Garlands might differ from the Brauns in ideals and ways of living--the two races had their interests closely interwoven. We of earth were the real aliens. What did they care for us? I could even imagine that the Braun conflict with earth might serve to draw the Garlands to them, rather than estrange. Families of our earth people often quarrel, reuniting only when an outside enemy comes in conflict with one of their factions.