Even at the time, I was gratified by the sudden thoughtful narrowing of his eyes. * * * * * I wasn't surprised the next day when Bronoski reported that Charlie Baxter had taken a bacpac--food, soap, blankets and so forth--and left the _Hilliard_. He was determined to prove that he wasn't merely Accident Prone and could get things done on his own. "Charterson and Von Elderman are following him?" I asked. Bronoski nodded his bullet-shaped head. "Like a hawk." "The Bird can follow him like a hawk. I want them to follow him like men." "They are as good at the job as I am," Bronoski reassured me. "I think," I said quickly, "that I had better go down to Communications and follow Baxter myself." The Bird was an electronic device. It looked like a local life-form that was actually a flying mammal. Inside the thing was was a sensitive video camera and a self-propulsion unit. The Bird homed in on Baxter's electroencephalograph waves. The view on the screen in front of the lounging chairs was clear but monotonous. Charlie made his way across the landscape, woods on this side of the continent, not jungle, without incident. He did fall down like a wet laundry bag every so often, but that, as you'd figure, amounted to traveling across country without incident. He'd have done the same on a smooth pavement. I had a cigarette in my mouth, futilely pounding my pockets for the lighter I didn't have, when Charlie met the alien. There was only one native this time, the same thin form, but more lightly clothed here. I shifted uneasily and hoped the two guards were close. There was only one this time, but it was useless to suppose Charlie could handle him himself. "Greetings," Charlie said. "I am Big Brother of a new Family." There was no sound equipment in the Bird, but the translator circuits in the control board read Baxter's lips and produced their sound patterns for us. They would also translate the native's language, but just then he wasn't saying anything. He walked around the Prone leisurely, as if considering buying him. Charlie shifted the straps of his pack. He hadn't been convinced of his own abilities enough to take along a gun or any other kind of weapon. He would be almost sure to kill himself with it. Or would he? I suddenly wondered if Charlie doubted himself enough to commit outright suicide. He had had plenty of close calls, yet he had always survived. If his goal was self-destruction, he surely would have reached it after this many opportunities. I watched the screen intently. Charlie thought he was alone there with a possibly hostile native. All he had to do was make one small slip and he would be dead. Yet, so far, he had followed the pattern we had used at the other colony exactly. Instantly I realized that it _must_ be a mistake to follow the other pattern with this second group of aliens, if Charlie Baxter did it. * * * * *