"It doesn't make any difference," said another gloomily. "It's always on watch. Nobody's gotten away with any iron for three or four seasons." "Well," said Alyar, after the magicians had straggled off down the river, "now we've seen it. It certainly put a powerful spell on that floating dish, but it didn't hurt the magicians. Maybe if we're careful it won't bother us." They followed the twisting canyon and eventually began to hear a roaring noise ahead. It turned out to be the water falling over a cliff, and to go any farther they had to climb out of the canyon again. When they were on top they could see, ahead of them, what was undoubtedly Iron Mountain. Parts of it were broken or rusted, but most of it was the non-rusting kind. Its shape was a surprise. It didn't look like a mountain, but something made by giants, broken off and stuck into the ground. It was wonderful to stand here, beholding the mightiest magic in the entire world. Still, Alyar wasn't satisfied. He felt he must go closer, even--possibly--touch it. "You'd better stay here. Bru, if anything happens to me, take the girls and run. You can get back to the beasts by going down the river." Bru was dismayed. "Don't go any closer! You saw what happened to the magicians' dish!" "They were trying to steal iron." He unloaded the metal he was carrying, smiled at them, and went on. * * * * * He'd only covered a hundred man-lengths or so when he heard the distorted voice, coming from over his head. He looked up, then stood rooted as the Iron Fley came spiraling down toward him. He tried to think the purest, most serene thoughts he could, though the fervent wish to be somewhere else kept intruding. The thing paused a few lengths away. "Advance and be recognized," it said. He took a faltering hop forward. "Halt or I'll shoot," it said, and he stopped. "Advance." He did. "Halt." He did. Finally he was very close to it, and he waited for a spell to hit him. "Name, rank, and serial number," it demanded. Then, as he was silent "Speak or I'll shoot." "I--I'm Alyarsmit! I don't think I'm rank, and I don't know what a serial number is." "Friend or foe?" "F-friend. I haven't stolen anything. Just some girls." The thing made a buzzing sound. "You speak, and you have the requisite number of limbs, and one head. Are you human?" "Y-yes, I'm human." "Name?" "Alyarsmit." "Smith? Smith?" It buzzed some more. "There was a Colonel John Smith on the roster. Are you his descendant?" "Yes," Alyar hazarded. "Mr. Smith, sir, Robojeep twenty-seven four nine reporting. All other jeeps inactivated, sir. No ship's personnel or other passengers accounted for in the last three hundred and seventy-four planetary cycles. Damage to ship unrepairable without human direction. Sporadic raids by savages, possibly degenerate humans, repelled successfully. Will you assume manual control, sir?" Alyar stuck with "Yes."