Abruptly Simms tensed. Across the room Gately's head nodded in sleep. The Venusian Service man slid to his feet, stole noiselessly across to the three ports and closed them. From his pocket he took a small paralysis-fume pellet, lit it and tossed it under the table. Back in his own bunk, he pulled on his dehydration mask and waited tensely. In sixty seconds a grey fog of vapor was swirling through the room. In sixty seconds more Gately's body had become rigid, his right arm suspended in space over the table. Simms made sure his message-tube was in its place in his belt holster. Then he crossed unchallenged to the door. An instant later he was outside, advancing along the catwalk. He leaped into his _jagua_ and began to paddle madly, intent only on putting distance between himself and the jetty. He had two alternatives: to continue on to GHQ at BeTaba, or to head into forbidden mold country and warn Xenthar village. Either way his own future was doomed. But without hesitation he chose the latter. * * * * * Mile after mile Simms fought his way along hidden channels, each of which resembled its predecessor. At first he had no idea where Xenthar village lay. Then, in his mind's eye, he saw again that relief-map of the Blue Country which all Venusian Service men must commit to memory. Xenthar lay to the east in an unexplored district. Huge blue priest trees bowed before him and sang their aeolian litanies as he passed. Living serpent-kelp clutched at his dugout and tried to prevent his passage. He moved by his watch. Overhead, at exact thirty minute intervals, successive hordes of Poleidons--_Ithiosyoria_--roared past in great blue clouds. As each migration came he ceased paddling and sat motionless. The slightest movement would have sent those flying lizard birds down to attack him. Even his dehydration mask failed to keep out the odor of mold. Mold balls, two feet across, floated through the air like great puffs of bluish cotton. Simms kept a wary eye trained to see that none fell on the _jagua_. Had one done so, the sacrophytic spores would have taken root and over-run the boat in a matter of seconds. On and on he went through the incessant rain. Once a huge waterskipper came, leaped over the surface of the water, its huge center eye open, its mouth a slavering slit of orange. He dug his paddle deep and pushed into the blue rip grass until the monster had passed. And finally he saw it--a rectangular floating platform, constructed of mud and thatch, anchored by a network of vine cables. He made a landing at a small wharf and began to stride along a matting path. Twenty feet forward, and he came face to face with a Kamali. The little man stopped short on his webbed feet, and his huge ears flapped ludicrously. With a low cry he turned and ran. "I'm in for it now," Simms muttered. "That devil will warn the whole village."